THE ART OF EXTEMPORE SPEAKING M. BAUTAIN M Cornell University B Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026418990 PN 4168.B35"l9i6""'' '""'"'^ \mlm?mmmSS?r.S speaking 3 1924 026 418 990 THE ART OF EXTEMPORE SPEAKING THE ART OF EXTEMPORE SPEAKING BY M. BAUTAIN VICAR-GENERAL AND PROFESSOR AT THE SORBONNE New Edition WITH FOREWORD BY ANDREW D. WHITE NEW YORK McDEVITT-WILSON'S INC. ,. 1916 £.V. Copyright, 1916 By McDEVITT-WILSON'S, Ikc. PUBLISHEE'S NOTE It was our privilege to sit at the feet of Dr. Andrew D. "White, former president of Cornell University, min- ister to Russia and Germany and President of the first International Peace Conference at the Hague, and lis- ten to an effective address delivered to students on the subject of extemporaneous speaking. Dr. White earnestly urged all who were preparing for American life to study Abbe Bautain's "Art of Extempore Speak- ing." Students lost no time in jotting down the name of the book. In an attempt to obtain the work we found it was out of print. It occurred to us that if so eminent a man as Dr. White, who had made public speaking a study, and who never lost an opportunity when in France of lis- tening to the eloquent Abbes, whose order required them to speak without notes, recommended so strongly Abbe Bautain's book, a republication of the work would be good news to thousands of preachers, teachers, laymen and attorneys throughout the English speaking world. Upon making known our intention to Dr. White we received a communication from him which appears as the Foreword to this edition. FOREWORD Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. OctoUr 12, 1915. McDevitt-Wilson's, Inc., Publishers, etc., New York City. Gentlemen : — I am glad that yofi are to publish a new edition of the Abbe Bautain's The Art of Extempore Speaking, for the reason that it is the best bt)ok on the subject that I have ever read, and that it is not a catch-penny publication, but a thoughtful work based on important experience by an eminent scholar who was one of the most eminent extemporaneous preachers of modern times in France. I have for years recommended it to the students at the State University of Michigan, at this and other uni- versities, and have regretted to find of late that it had disappeared from the market. I remain, Yery truly yours, PEEPACE The following work, by the eloquent M. Bautain, has no counterpart or rival in the English language, so prolific of treatises upon Rhetoric, and the separate portions of the arts of composition and delivery. All those parts of oratory, however necessary to public speaking, or conducive to success in its performance, yet leave comparatively aside the precise business of off- hand extemporizing. If we mistake not, the subject will be found to be handled with masterly ability by the au- thor of this volume, who, keeping his end ever in view, and exemplifying in the treatment of his matter that clarte — so distinctively French, and which Quintilian says is the first quality of style — subordiaates every- thing to the one grand purpose of extemporization. The treatise not only supplies a desideratum in the literature of the language, but it ministers to a need pe- culiarly existing under our representative system of popular government. It is true, and felt to be so — that remark of an acute observer of American institu- tions and manners, that "In no country whatever is a genius for writing or speaking a more useful or com- manding endowment than in this." To render the work more aptly suited to the precise requirements among ourselves, three chapters are added by the Amer- ican Editor, which it is hoped will serve to smooth the way for the unpracticed, or unassisted student of de- livery. Cicero says in his treatise De Oratore, "There is requisite to the orator the acuteness of the logician, X PREFACE the subtilty of the philosopher, the skillful harmony, almost, of the poet, the memory of a jurieonsult, the tragedian's voice, and the gesture of the most finished actors." But he speaks of the highest, for he adds im- mediately that "nothing is more rare among men than a perfect orator." The gradations, as in all arts, are infinite, but a certain degree, is within the reach of most men, and many in their efforts to advance, will become indebted, consciously or unconsciously, to this admir- able little work of M. Bautain. CONTENTS PART I CHAPTER I PAGE Exposition of the Subject — Definition of an Extem- poKANEOus Speech 1 CHAPTER II The Qualifications Necessaby fob Public Speaking . . 7 CHAPTER III Mental Aptitudes for Public Speaking, Capable of Being AcQuiEED, OR Formed by Study 28' CHAPTER IV Physical Qualities of the Okatoe, Natubal and Acquired 55 PART II CHAPTER V Division of the Subject 71 CHAPTER VI Preparation of the Plan . 74 CHAPTER VII Political and Forensic Speaking . 81 CHAPTER VIII Speaking from the Christian Pulpit, and in Teaching . 90 CONTENTS PAGE CHAPTER IX Determination op the Subject and Conception of the Idea or the Discotxbse 95 CHAPTER X Conception op the Subject — Direct Method 101 CHAPTER XI Conception op the Subject — Indieect Method . . . .106 CHAPTER XII The Foemation and the Abeangement op Ideas . . . .115 CHAPTER XIII Abeangement of the Plan 123 CHAPTER XIV Chabactee op the Plan 130 CHAPTER XV Final Pbepaeation Before Speaking 135 CHAPTER XVI Final Intellectual Peepaeation 137 CHAPTER XVII Final Mobal Preparation 144 CHAPTER XVIII Bodily Peepaeation 151 CHAPTER XIX The Discotjese I57 CHAPTER XX The Beginning oe Exoedium ..mi... 153 CONTENTS PAGE CHAPTER XXI Enteance into the Subject 163 CHAPTER XXII The Development 168 CHAPTER XXIII The Ceisis of the Discoitrse 174 CHAPTER XXIV The CiiOSE or the Discourse, ok Peroration 185 CHAPTER XXV After the Discourse 189 CHAPTER XXVI The Logic of the Orator 196 CHAPTER XXVII The Voice in Public Speaking 217 THE ART OF EXTEMPORE SPEAKING PAET I CHAPTER I EXPOSITION OF THE SUBJECT DEFINITION OF AN EXTEM- PORANEOUS SPEECH Let us in the first place exactly determine the subject to which we are to devote our attention, in order that nothing may be expected beyond that which it is our wish and our power to commit to these pages. We have no intention of composing a treatise on elo- quence. The world has had enough on this subject since the time of Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian, Fenelon, and many others. Treatises on rhetoric abound, and it ap- pears scarcely necessary to produce a new one. It is not proposed to treat of the art of writing, nor, consequently, of reciting or properly delivering a dis- course elaborated at leisure, and learnt by heart. A man may certainly become a great orator by writing speeches and reciting them well. Witness Bossuet, Bour - daloue, MasgUon, and many others. It is possible in this manner to instruct, to touch the feelings, and to persuade the hearer; which is the object of the art of oratory. 2 STATEMENT OF THE SUBJECT Our subject is confined within narrower limits, viz. to the art of speaking well and suitably in a given situa- tion, whether in the Christian pulpit or in the professorial chair, at the bar or in deliberative assemblies. We shall therefore confine our attention solely to a discourse, neither written nor learnt by heart, but improvised; necessarily composed by the orator on the very moment of delivery, without any preparation or previous combina- tion of phrases. Let us then determine, in the first place, what is an improvised (or extempore) speech, and the manner in which a speech is extemporized. Extemporization consists of speaking on the first im- pulse; that is to say, without a preliminary arrange- ment of phrases. It is the instantaneous manifestation, the expression, of an actual thought, or the sudden ex- plosion of a feeling or mental movement. It is very evident that extemporization can act only on the form of words, the form of a discourse; for, in orderjto^ speak, it is necessary to have something to say, and that something must already be existiag in the mind, or still more deeply in the intimate feeling of the orator. Nevertheless, the thought or feeliag may be ia a con- cealed state, and the possessor may not have clearly ap- preciated or distinctly perceived it at the moment of opening his lips under the impression of some circum- stance or some unforeseen cause of excitement. Ideas and conditions of the mind cannot be extempo- rized; and the more perfectly they are possessed or felt the greater is the probability of their lively explosion or of their being developed with force and clearness. We will not speak of those exceptional cases where a passion, involuntarily excited or aroused, bursts forth of a sudden in some sublime words, or with an eloquent harangue. ' ' Facit indignatio versum, ' ' says Juvenal. STATEMENT OP THE SUBJECT 3 Every feeling unexpectedly aroused in an excited mind may, like a volcano, scatter around burning lava, or like a cloud, charged with storms and bursting suddenly from electric commotion, produce thunder and lightning, a terrible and devastating hail or a salutary and fertilizing shower. No advice can be given for such a situation, for nature alone furnishes the means, in proportion to indi- vidual constitution and development. There lies the source of all poetry, of all eloquence, and of all artistic power. Improvisation such as this recognizes no rules, and rejects teaching. The coarsest, the most ignorant man may thus occasionally be eloquent, if he feel vividly and express himself energetically, in words and gesture. We will devote our attention only to prepared ex- tempore speaking, that is to say, to those addresses which have to be delivered in public before a specified auditory, on a particular day, on a given subject, and with the view of achieving a certain result. It is true that in such cases the discourse, if written beforehand, can be recited or read. There are some per- sons who are masters of recitation or of reading, and can thus produce a great effect. In this manner, doubtless, both thoughts and words can be better weighed, and the speaker can deliver what he has to say with greater pre- cision. But there is this drawback, that the discourse is colder, less apposite, and approximates too nearly to dis- sertation. Nay, should any unforeseen circumstance occur, such as an objection, a rejoinder, or a discussion of any kind, the speaker not expecting, may find him- self stopped short or at fault, to the great detriment of his cause or his subject. Moreover, a preacher, a pro- fessor, or a senator, who is liable to be called upon to speak at any moment, has not always the time to com- pose a discourse, still less to learn it by rote. In speak- 4 STATEMENT OF THE SUBJECT ing from his fullness, therefore, as the saying is, he can speak oftener, and produce a greater effect, if he speak well. His speaking will also be more lively and brilliant — more real, and more apposite. Originating with the oc- casion, and at the very moment, it will bear more closely on the subject, and strike with greater force and pre- cision. His words will be warmer from their freshness, and they will in this manner communicate increased fervor to the audience. They will have all the energy of an instantaneous effort, and of a sudden burst. The vitality of thought is singularly stimulated by this necessity of instantaneous production, by this actual necessity of self-expression, and of communication to other minds. It is a kind of child-bearing in public, of which the speaker feels all the effort and all the pain, and in this he is assisted and supported by the sympathy of his hearers, who witness with lively interest this labor of mental ,life, and who receive with pleasure this bantling of thought; that is to say, an idea weU con- ceived and brought to light ; well formed, with a fine ex- pression, or with a body of graceful and well-constructed phraseology. But it is not our object to compare these two methods of public speaking, nor to place in the balance their ad- vantages and defects. It is possible to excel in both ways, and every one must endeavor to discover the man- ner which best suits him, and the method by which, ac- cording to his nature, his qualities, and his position, his words can achieve the greater amount of good, instruct more clearly and more fully, and touch the heart more effectually. What suits one does not suit another. God distributes his gifts as seems best to Him ; and every tree bears fruit according to its kind. It is important for STATEMENT OP THE SUBJECT 5 man to discover the gift he has received, to make use of it with usury, and to discharge faithfully his high voca- tion. "Fiunt oratores, nascuntur poetse," has said Quintilian; meaning, doubtless, that poetic genius is a gift from heaven, and that oratorical talent can be ac- quired. This is only half true; for if teaching and labor can contribute to the formation of an orator, neither one nor the other will give him the germ and the power of eloquence. They can excite and nourish, but they can never ignite the sacred fire. But amongst those who have received this divine gift of words some have only been enabled to exercise it with the pen, and occasionally even the most eloquent writers are incapable of delivering in public that which they know so well to compose in private. They are troubled and embarrassed before even the least imposing audience. J. J. Rousseau could never speak in public; and the Abbe de Lamennais, whose style is so vigorous, never ventured to enter the pulpit, and was unable to address even a meeting of children. Others, on the contrary, possess the faculty of easily ex- pressing in public their feelings and their thoughts. The presence of hearers stimulates them, and augments the elasticity of their mind and the vivacity of their tongue. It is these only that we shall address, for we have spoken in this manner through life and have never been able to do otherwise. Many a time, however, have we made the at- tempt, by preparing an exordium, a tirade, or a perora- tion, with the- intention of speaking better or in a more striking manner. But we have never succeeded in re- citing what we had prepared, and in the manner in which we had constructed it. Our labored composi- tions have always missed their object, and have made us embarrassed or obscure. Thus, it appears, we were 6 STATEMENT OP THE SUBJECT made, and we have been forced to follow our nature. In such matters the lesson to be learnt is in turning to ac- count the demands of nature which must be satisfied. As extemporizing a speech regards the form only, as has been before stated, it follows that, before attempting to speak in this manner, two things are necessary. 1. The foundation of the discourse, or the thought and succession of thoughts to be expressed. 2. The means of expression, or the language in which they are to be spoken, so as to avoid the necessity of seeking the words at the same moment as the ideas, and the risk of stopping short of or being embarrassed in the composition of the phraseology. In other terms, the speaker must know what he wishes to say and how to say it. Improvisation, therefore, supposes the special quali- fications on which we are about to speak, not precisely with the view of teaching the means of aequirin^jbbem, as for the most part they are g fts_of^nature ; but to in- duce those to cultivate and develop them who have the, good fortune to possess them; and, above all, to point out the signs by which any one may discover whether he be capable of speaking in public, and how, in so doing, to succeed. CHAPTER II THE QUALIFICATIONS NECESSARY FOB PUBLIC SPEAKING At the root of every real talent, whatever it may be, there lies a natu ral aptness , conferring on the person en- dowed with it a particular power; and this aptness de- pends alike on the i ntellectual temperament and the physjcal__o^amzation ; for man being es sentia lly com- posed of mind and^bpdy, all that he does in reason, or in his quality as a reasonable being, comes from these two portions of his being and from their mutual rela- tions. The mind commands, it is true, and the body must obey like an instrument; but the instrument has also its influence, especially over the talent of the artist, by the manner in which it responds to his wishes, to his feelings, to the motions which he communicates to it, to the vigor which he seeks to display. Thus speaking, is an art and the finest of arts ; it should express the mind by form, ideas by words, feelings by sounds, all that the mind feels, thinks, and wishes by signs and external action. To obtain skill in this art, therefore, there are- some qualifications which regard the mind, "and others which depend on the body. The dispositions of the mind are natural or acquired. The former, which we are about to set forth in this chap- ter, are — 1. A lively sensibility. 2. A penetrating intelligence. 7 8 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 3. A sound reason, or, as it is commonly called, good sense. 4. A prompt imagination. 5. A firm and decisive will. 6. A natural necessity of expansion, or of communi- cating to others ideas and feelings. 7. Finally, a certain instinct wiiicli urges a man to speak, as a bird to sing. 1— A LIVELY SENSIBILITY Art has its root in sensibility, and although it de- pends much on the body, and especially on the nerves which are its physical medium, sensibility is neverthe- less one of the principal powers of the mind, not to say a faculty, as the word faculty denotes a manner of acting, and as sensibility is a manner of suffering or of sustain- ing an action. Thus the mind which lives only by its affinities, and which for action always requires an impression, acts only in proportion to the incitements it receives, and the manner in which it receives them. It is, therefore, in this peculiar manner of receiving and appropriatiag im- pressions of things that consists the vivacity of sensibility, necessary to speaking, as to every artistic expression. Every man feels according to his sensitiveness ; birLaU do not feel in the same manner, and thus are neither able to express what they feel in the same manner, nor dis- posed to the same kind of expression. Hence vocation to the different arts, or the natural inclination of the mind to express one particular thing which it feels the more, and with the greater pleasure. In this, also, lies the origin of taste in art, and for a particular art, whether in the exercise of such art or in the appreciation of its works. Some have more taste and facility in the NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 9 plastic arts ; others in the acoustic arts ; and even in the exercise of the same art there are different dispositions to a certain mode of expression which produce different styles. Thus in poetry there are poets who compose odes, epic poetry, tragedy, comedy, satyr, idyls and eclogues, etc., etc., which are all poetic expressions of the human mind ; and so far they resemble each other ; but they dif- fer in the object which they reproduce, in the manner of representing it, and a poet in one style rarely succeeds in another. He can sing in one strain and not otherwise, as the song of a lark is not that of a nightingale. It is thus in the art of speaking, in eloquence as re- gards the object to be expressed. One speaker is more suited to set forth ideas, their connection, and their grada- tions. He discerns perfectly the congruity, the differ- ence, the contrast of thoughts, and thus he will deliver them suddenly with much facility, delicacy, and subtilty. He has perception, a taste for idea; he conceives it dis- tinctly, and will therefore enunciate it gracefully and clearly. Such a one is made to teach and instruct. Another has a greater enjoyment of everything re- lating to the feelings, the affections, to soft or strong emotions. He will therefore employ with greater pleas- ure and greater success all that can touch, move, and hurry away: he will, above all, cause the fibers of the heart to vibrate. Such a one will be an orator rather than a professor, and will be better able to persuade by emotion thaji to convince by reason. A third delights in images and pictures. He feels more vividly everything that he can grasp and repro- duce in his imagination; he therefore takes pleasure in these reproductions. Such a one will therefore be specially a descriptive speaker, and will rise almost to poetry in his prose. He will speak to the imagination 10 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY of his hearers rather than to their heart or mind : he wiU affect but little, and instruct stillless; but he will be able to amuse and interest, he will attract by originality, by the variety of his pictures, and by the viva^jity and bril- liancy of his coloring. In these different instances we see that sensibility is viyidly excited either by ideas, by feelings, or by images; and it is evident that he who would extemporize a dis- course in one of these three methods must begin by feel- ing vividly the subject of which he has to speak, and that his expression will always be proportionate to the impression of it he will have received and retained. But if sensibility must be strong, it must nevertheless not be excited to excess; for it then renders expression impossible from the agitation of the mind and the over- excitement of the nervous system, which paralyzes the organs. Thus, the precept of Horace, "Si vis me flere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi," is true only for those who write in their closet, and does not apply to the ora- tor. Before the public, he must not weep, nor even be moved to such a point that his voice will fail him, or be stifled by sobs ; he must weep with his voice, and not with his eyes ; he should have tears in his voice, but so as to be master of them. At times, doubtless, a great effect may be produced by the very inability to speak, caused by the enthusiasm of feeling or the violence of grief ; but then the discourse is finished, or, rather, it is no longer needed, and little matter, if the object be attained. But, for the art of oratory, sensibility must be restrained sufficiently at least for words to run their proper course. The feelings must not explode at once, but escape little by little, so as gradually to animate the whole body of the discourse. It is thus that art idealizes nature in rejectiag all that NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 11 from instinct or passion may be too rough or impetuous. The character of Christian art, that which renders it sublime, is, that in all its works there is a predomin ance of mind over m atter, of the soul over the body, of man over_^ature. Christian feelin^"*l5~never intemperate, never disorderly. It is always restrained within a cer- tain point by the power of that will which, assisted by the higher strength supporting it, governs events, or rather, does not yield to them ; and when it appears over- come it bends beneath the storm of adversity, but is righted by resignation, and does not break. It is more than the thinking reed of Pascal ; it is a reed that wills. For this reason the types of Christian art will never be surpassed. Never beneath the sun will there be seen images more sublime or more beautiful than the figures of Jesus Christ and the Virgin. In this point of view the Christian orator, inasmuch as he is a Christian, is very superior to the Pagan orator : he conceives, he feels very differently, both earthly and heavenly things, and his manner of feeling is more spiritual, pure, and worthy of man, for being less material, it gives to his expression something noble, elevated and superhuman, approaching the language of heaven. The same may be said for the statement of ideas. It is doubtless necessary that they should be felt strongly with all that they embrace, so that they may be analyzed and developed; that the developed may be re-embodied, again concentrated, and reduced to unity. In this oper- ation there is an infinity of gradations which must be delicately perceived and appreciated. But if this feel- ing become too strong, or take too completely possession of the mind, analysis or exposition becomes impossible; the speaker is absorbed by the contemplation only of the general idea, is unable to enter upon its development, 12 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY and from that moment he is incapahle of speaking. This is the case with men of genius, but of an exaggerated mental sensibility, who feel the necessity of writing to display their thoughts, because they require time to re- flect and recover themselves from the fullness of the idea which overcomes them at first, or when they are required to speak of a sudden. Such was probably the case with Rousseau, who was endowed with remarkable sensibility of mind. It may even happen that a too vehement and over exclusive perception of an idea may convert it into a fixed idea, and may lead to madness. Everything is so weU. balanced in our existence, everything must be done in such measure and proportion, that, no sooner do we exceed, however little, that mean point where lies the relative perception of humanity — ^than we fall into exag- geration, which destroys and renders powerless as much as deficiency itself. — In medio virtus. For description, sensibility, and even exquisite sensi- bility, is required, but here also not too much, otherwise we wander to impressions of detail, and we end by pro- ducing a species of poem or monograph of each flower or object which pleases us. It is what is called in painting tableaux de genre, which may for an instant attract and amuse, but which do not represent one deep idea or one worthy of art. It is in literature that kind of poetry or romance which the Germans, and especially the English, delight in, and which consists in painting in the greatest detail the com- monest things of life. Impressions are then taken from the domestic hearth, from the life of a family, or of a country, as sesthetie sentiments, as effects of art, falling into a paltry realism, which lowers art in making it de- scend to the commonplace and absurdities of reality. Finally, it is the defect of those preachers who delight in NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 13 continual descriptions, whether of physical or of moral nature, whose sermons, subject to their taste for imagery, are only galleries of pictures which may amuse those who think to recognize in them the portraits of others, but which can never instruct nor touch any one. He whcTj would speak well, therefore, must feel what he has to say with sufficient strength to express it with warmth and vivacity; but his feeling must not attain that vehe- mence which prevents the mind from acting, and paralyzes the expression from the very fullness of the feeling. This would be a sort of intellectual apoplexy, taking away the gift of speech, and rendering it power-, less by excess of life. -'' 2— KEEN INTELMGENCB In speaking, the feeling or that which is felt, must be resolved into ideas, thoughts, images, and thence into words, phrases, language, as a cloud or condensed vapor is transformed and distilled into rain. "Eloquium Domini sicut imbres," says the Psalmist. The faculty which effects this transformation, by the operation of the mind accounting inwardly and reflectively for all that is passing through it, is intelligence, or the faculty of read- ing in ourselves. It is for this reason that animals pos- sessing sensibility, and at times senses even more subtle, than those of man, are incapable of speaking, in a strict sense, although, like all other beings on earth, and espe- cially living beings, they have a spontaneous language, by which is naturally manifested all that takes place in them. They__hav£_na_intelligence,. and thus they have neither consciousness nor reflection, though there exists in them a principle of life, gifted with sensibility and in- stinct, which gives them the semblance of human intelli- gence, but it cannot be maintained that they are reason- 14 NATURAL QUALITIES NBCBSSAEY able, which would imply liberty and moral responsibility for their acts. For reason to exist, it is necessary that the mind, capable of feeling and seeing, should have the power of self-possession by means of reflection, and to consider and analyze by thought all that it has perceived i and seen. Thus is formed in us an intellectual world peopled by our conceptions, that is to say, with ideas, with notions and images, which we can compare, com- bine, and divide in a thousand maimers, according to their approximation or their difference; and which are finally expressed in speech — the successive development of which is always the analysis of thought. Thus every extemporized discourse presupposes a pre- liminary operation of thought. The thought must have been well conceived, held, and grasped in a single idea which contains the whole substance. Then, for the ex- position of this idea, it must have been divided into its principal parts, or into other subordinate ideas as mem- bers of it, and then again into others stUl more minutely, untU the subject is exhausted. This multitude of thoughts must be well arranged, so that at the very mo- ment each may arrive in the place marked out for it, and appear in its turn in the discourse to play its part and fulfill its function, the value of which consists in the an- tecedents which prepare and the consequences which de- velop it, as figures in an arithmetical operation have value in themselves and also by their position. Much intelligence is therefore required for this prepar- atory labor, so useful in extemporization; or, in other words, for the elaboration of a plan, without which it would be risk to hazard on ground so dangerous and so slippery. The first _eoiiditioiL_of_speaking— is-J:Q_faiow wimtJaJntOTdedjtoJbe_said, and the greaier-ihe intelli- gence_employed i n the prgparatianrf the speech, and the NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 15 morg _clearly is it conceiv gdj^ thB^reater Jie-prohaMity of present ins f it well to nthfirs nr nf ^paking wbII. That which is well conceived is clearly enunciated. Nevertheless, this first labor is not sufficient; it is easy enough in the silence of the closet, pen in hand, to elaborate a plan to be committed to paper, and polished at leisure. But this plan must pass from the paper to the head, and be there established in divisions and subdivisions, according to the order of thoughts both as a whole and ia detail ; which cannot be well done, and in a sure and lasting manner, unless the mind keeps the ideas linked by their intimate, and not by their super- ficial relations — by accidental or purely external associa- tions, such as are formed by the imagination and the senses. In a word, there must reign between all the parts of the plan an order of filiation or generation ; which is called the logical connection. Thus, the logical connection is the product of the intelligence which in- tuitively perceives the connection of ideas, even the most removed and the most profound ; and of the reason which ; completes the view of the intelligence, by showing on the I one hand connection by a chain of intermediary ideas, i and on the other the order of this connection, by means of reflection, and unites them in a thought to be pre-^ sented, or an end to be attained. ' Then comes a third step, which exacts even a greater subtilty and greater promptitude of mind. This plan which has been committed to paper, which is now care- fully kept in the head, must be realized in words, and endowed with flesh and life in the discourse. It is like dry bones which, by the breath of the orator, are of a sudden to reassume their muscles, nerves and skin, and to rise, each in its place, to form a living body, beautiful to behold. The speaker must successively pass before 16 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSAEY his hearers all that he carries in his mind — all his ideas, in suddenly giving to each, in its place, body, covering, color, and life. He should, how ever^_while^speaking, Janus-like, see doubl e; within, a t his pla n ■ with out, at the thread of his discourse ; so as to keep within the lin e of his thought, without disturbing his arrangement, or diverging. He must, finally, be able, j s_^^_day jof battle, suddenly to modify what he^as beforehand pre- paied^ following whateYer_ may present itse lf^an d thi s without relinquishing his pinTipipgl ijpa which sustains all, and without which he would become the plaything of chance. He requires still many things, which will be pointed out later, when we shall have to speak of the dis- course itself; and all of which, like tiiose which we have just mentioned, presumes the exercise of an intense, rapid, and most penetrating intelligence. 3— RIGHT REASON OR GOOD SEXSE A great deal of talent may exist without common sense, and this is often the case with clever persons, and espe- cially those who wish to appear clever. By endeavoring to study objects under new phases, to say new things, or things apparently new, they end by never considering them in a right light ; and the habit of regardrug them in aU manner of aspects, takes away the faculty of seeing them in full and directly, iu their true meanings and natural bearings. Now, nothing is so fatal to extemporization as this wretched facility of the mind for losing itself in details, and neglecting the main point. "Without at this mo- ment speaking of the construction of the plan, wherein simplicity and clearness, to which good sense is singularly conducive, ought, above all things, to prevail, it is evi- NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 17 dent that this quality, so useful in conduct and in busi- ness, is more than ever so in the instantaneous formation of a discourse, and in the dangerous task of extempo- rizing, whether as regards matter or manner. Good sense is the instinctive action of right reason, discriminating with a rapidity of feeling, and by a sort | of taste, what is or is not suitable in any given situation. Therefore, it is a sudden appreciation of a thousand bearings depending on circumstances, as when, amidst the fervor of delivery and from the general effect of the address — things not to be estimated by the plan alone, but declaring themselves on the instant — an idea on which stress should be laid — ^what part of it should be neglected — ^what should be compressed — ^what should be enlarged upon — must all be promptly seized. Then a new thought which suggests itself and must be intro- duced — an explanation which might run to too great a length and which must be abridged — an emotion or ef- fect to be excited as you pass on without losing sight of the main effect — a digression into which you may enter without breaking the guiding thread of this labyrinth and while at need recovering it — all have to be judged of, decided upon, and executed at the very moment it- self, and during the unsuspended progress of the dis- course. The same applies to the form or style of the speech. How many mental and literary proprieties to be ob- served ! A doubtful phrase coming into the mouth and to be discarded — an ambitious, pretentious expression to be avoided — a trite or commonplace term which occurs and to be excluded — a sentence which is opened with a certain boldness and the close of which is not yet clear — even while you are finishing the development of one period, your view thrown forward to the next thought. 18 NATURAL QUALITIES NB CESSARY and to the link which is to connect it with that which you are ending ! Truly there is enough to produce gid- diness when one reflects on the matter ; nevertheless, the discernment of such a multiplicity of points must be instantaneous, and indeed it is performed with a kind of cettainty, and as it were of its own accord, if the sub- ject have been fitly prepared, if you be thoroughly in possession of it, and if you be well inclined at the mo- jnent. But in order to walk with this direct and firm step through a discourse, which arises, as it were, before the orator in proportion as he advances, like an enchanted forest, all teeming with sorceries and apparitions, in which so many different paths cross each other — ^in order to accept none of these brilliant phantoms save those which can be serviceable to the subject, dispelling like vain shadows all the rest — ^in order to choose exactly the road which best leads to your destination, and, above all, to keep constantly in that which you have marked out for yourself beforehand, shunning all the other byways, however alluring they may appear, and not allowing yourself to be carried away or to swerve from your line, either in gait or deportment — ^you most assuredly re- quire that clear, decisive, and certain sight which good sense gives, and that kind of instinct or taste for truth which it alone produces. 4— EEADINESS OF IMAGINATION Imagination is like a double-faced mirror, in part turned towards the outer world, and reflecting its ob- jects, in part towards the light of ideas, tinging it with its hues, forming it into representations, and disposing it in pictures, while decomposing it as the prism the solar ray. It is thus that speech renders metaphysical NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 19 objects more approachable and comprehensible; it gives them a body, or a raiment, which makes them visible and almost palpable. Imagination is one of the most necessary of the ora- tor's faculties, and especially to him who extemporizes, first, in order that he may be able to fix his plan well in his mind — for it is chiefly by means of the imagina- tion that it is there fixed, or painted; in the second place, in order that it may be preserved there in full life, well connected, and well arranged, until the mo- ment for realizing it or putting it forth by means of the discourse. Imagination is also very useful to him in order to represent suddenly to himself what he wishes to express to others when a new thought arises, and when an image, germinating, as it were, in the heat of oratorical action, like a flower opening forthwith under the sun's rays, is presented unexpectedly to the mind. Then the instant he has a glimpse of it, after having rapidly decided whether it suits the subject and befits its place, he, while yet speaking, seizes it eagerly, passes it warm beneath the active machinery of the imagina- tion, extends, refines, develops, makes it ductile and glit- tering, and marks it at once with some of the types or molds which imagination possesses. Or else, if we may be allowed another comparison, the thought passes through the presses of the imagination, like those sheets of paper which revolve between the cylinders of mechan- ical presses, and issue forth all covered with characters and images. Now this most complicated and subtle labor must be performed with the quickness of lightning, amidst the onward current of the discourse, which cannot be ar- rested or slackened without becoming languid. The imagination ought then to be endowed with great quick- 20 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY ness in tlie formation and variation of its pictures; but it requires also great clearness, in order to produce at the first effort, a well-marked image, the lines and out- lines defined with exactitude, and the tints bright — so that language has only to reproduce it tmhesitatingly, and unconfusedly, as an object is faithfully represented in a spotless glass. For you must not grope for your words while speaking, under penalty of braying like a donkey, which is the death of a discourse. The expres- sion of the thought must be effected at the first stroke, and decidedly — a condition which hinders many men, and even men of talent, from speaking in public. Their imagination is not sufficiently supple, ready, or clear; it works too slowly, and is left behind by the lightning of the thought, which at first dazzles it, a result due either to a natural deficiency, or to want of practice ; or else — and this is the most general case with men of talent, it arises from allowing the mind to be too much excited and agitated in the presence of the public and in the hurry of the moment; whence a certain incapacity for speaking, not unlike inability to walk produced by gid- diness. 5— FIRMNESS AND DECISION OF WILL Unquestionably courage is necessary to venture upon speaking in public. To rise before an assembly, often numerous and imposing, without books or notes, carry- ing everything in the head, and to undertake a discourse in the midst of general silence, with all eyes fixed on you, under the obligation of keeping that audience at- tentive and interested for three quarters of an hour, an hour, and sometimes longer, is assuredly an arduous task and a weighty burden. All who accept this bur- den, or have it imposed upon them, know how heavy it NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 21 is, and what physical and mental sufferiag is experienced until it is discharged. Timidity or hesitation will make a person incapable of the duty; and such will always re- coil from the dangers of the situation. When, indeed, it is remembered, how little is required to disconcert and even paralyze the orator — ^his own con- dition, bodily and moral, which is not always favorable at a given moment — that of the hearers so unstable and prone to vary never known — the distractions which may assail and divert him from his subject — the failure per- haps of memory, so that a part of the plan, and occa- sionally its main division, may be lost on the instant — the inertness of the imagination, which may play him false, and bring feebly and confusedly to the mind what it represents — the escape of an unlucky expression — the not finding the proper term — a sentence badly begun, out of which he no longer knows his way — and finally, all the influences to which he is sub- jected, and which converge upon him from a thou- sand eyes — ^when all these things are borne in mind, it is truly enough to make a person lose head or heart, and the only wonder is that men can be found who will face such dangers, and fling themselves into the midst of them. Nor, indeed, ought they to be courted save when duty urges, when your mission enjoins it, or in order to fulfill some obligation of conscience or of position. Any other motive — such as ambition, vainglory, or interest — exposes you to cruel miscalculations and well-merited downfalls. The strength of will needful to face such a situation is of course aided and sustained by a suitable prepara- tion; and, of all preparations the best is to know well what you would say, and to have a clear conception of it. But yet, besides the possession of the idea and the 22 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY chain of the thoughts on which you have a good hold, there is still the hazard of uttering appropriate or inap- propriate words. Who is assured beforehand, that, on such a day, expressions will not prove rebellious to him, that the right phrase will come in the place appointed, and that language (like a sword) will not turn its edge ? It is in the details of diction at the moment, or the in- stantaneous composition of the discourse and of sen- tences, that great decision is required to select words as they fly past, to control them immediately, and, amidst many unsuitable, to allow none but what are suitable to drop from the lips. Moreover, a certain boldness is required — and who knows whether it will always be a successful boldness? — to begin the development of any sudden idea, without knowing whither it will lead you — to obey some oratorical inspiration which may carry you far away from the subject, and finally, to enter, and to jump, as it were, with both feet together, into a sen- tence, the issue of which you cannot foresee, particularly in French, which has only one possible class of termina- tions to its periods. Nevertheless, when once you have begun, you must rigidly beware of retreating by any break in the thought or in the sentence. You must go on daringly to the end, even though you take refuge in some unauthorized turn of expression or some incorrect- ness of language. Timid minds are frightened from adopting these extreme resources; for which reason we affirm that to expose oneself to this hazard — and who- ever extemporizes does so — decision and even a little rashness of will are necessary, beforehand and during the process, in order to sustain it, to undergo all with- out fainting, and to reach the destination without a serious wound, or, at all events, without a fall. NATURAL QUALITIES NBCEjSSARY 23 6— EXPAKSIVENESS OP CHARACTER There are two sorts of expansiveness, that of the mind and that of the heart. The mind seeks after truth, which is its natural ob- ject. Now truth is like light, or rather, it is the light of the intelligence; and this is why it is diffusive by its very nature, and spontaneously enters wherever an ave- nue is opened to it. When, therefore, we perceive or think that we perceive a truth, the mind rejoices in and feeds upon it, because it is its natural aliment ; in assimi- lating and appropriating it, the mind partakes of its ex- pansive force, and experiences the desire of announcing to others what it knows itself, and of making them see what it sees. It is its happiness to become a torch of this light, and to help in diffusing it. It sometimes even glories in the joy it feels ; the pride also of enlightening our fellows, and so of ruling them to a certain extent, and of seeming above them, is part of the feeling. A keen and intelligent mind, which seeks truth, seizes it quickly and conceives it clearly, is more eager than an- other to communicate what it knows; and if, along with this, such a mind loves glory — and who loves it not, at least in youth? — ^it will be impelled the more towards public speaking, and more capable of exercising the power of eloquence. But there is, besides, a certain disposition of char- acter and heart which contributes much to the same re- sult, as is seen in women and children, who speak will- ingly and with great ease, on account of their more im- pressionable sensibility, the delicacy of their organs, and their extreme mobility. Something of this is required in the extemporizer. A self -centered person, who re- 24 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY fleets a great deal and meditates long before he can per- ceive a truth, or seize an analogy, and who either can- not or will not manifest what he feels or thinks until he has exactly shaped the expression of it, is not fitted for extemporaneous speaking. A melancholy, morose, mis- anthropic person, who shuns society, dreads the inter- course of men, and delights in solitary musing, will have a difficulty in speaking in public; he has not the taste for it, and his nature is against it. What is needed for this art, with a quick mind, is an open, confiding, and cheerful character, which loves men and takes pleasure in joining itself to others. Mistrust shuts the heart, the mind, and the mouth. This expansiveness of character, which is favorable to extemporaneous speaking, has certainly its disadvan- tages also. It sometimes gives to the mind an unsettled levity and too much recklessness, and something venture- some or superficial to the style. But these disadvantages may be lessened or neutralized by a serious prepara- tion, by a weU-considered and well-defined plan, which will sustain and direct the exuberance of language, and remove by previous reflection the chances of digressive- ness and in consequence. 7— INSTINCTIVE OR NATURAL GIFT OF SPEAKING Art may develop, and perfect the talent of a speaker, but cannot produce it. The exercises of grammar and of rhetoric will teach a person how to speak correctly and elegantly ; but nothing can teach him to be eloquent, or give that eloquence which comes from the heart and goes to the heart. All the precepts and artifices on earth can but form the appearances or semblance of it. Now this true and natural eloquence which moves, per- NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 25 suades, and transports, consists of a soul and a body, like man, whose image, glory, and word it is. The soul of eloquence is the center of the human soul itself, which, enlightened by the rays of an idea, or warmed and stirred by an impression, flashes or bursts forth to manifest, by some sign or other, what it feels or sees. This it is which gives movement and life to a discourse ; it is like a kindled torch, or a shuddering and vibrating nerve. The body of eloquence is the language which it re- quires in order to speak, and which must harmoniously clothe what it thinks or feels, as a fine shape harmonizes with the spirit which it contains. The material part of language is learnt instinctively, and practice makes us feel and seize its delicacies and shades. The understand- ing then, which sees rightly and conceives clearly, and the heart which feels keenly, find naturally, and without effort, the words and the arrangement of words most analogous to what is to be expressed. Hence the innate talent of eloquence, which results alike from certain in- tellectual and moral aptitudes, and from the physical constitution, especially from that of the senses and of the organs of the voice. There are men organized to speak well as there are birds organized to sing well, bees to make honey, and beavers to build. Doubtless, all men are capable of speaking, since they are rational beings, and the exercise of reason is im- possible without speech; beyond all doubt, moreover, any man may become momentarily eloquent, being sud- denly illuminated by an idea, by some passing inspira- tion, or the vehement impulse of a feeling, or a desire ; bursts also and cries of passion are often of a high kind 26 NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY of eloquence. But it is the effect of an instant, which passes away with the unusual circumstances which have produced it; during the rest of their lives these same persons may speak very ill, and be incapable of pro- nouncing a sentence in public. They have not the gift of words, and those alone who are endowed with it by nature, can derive advantage from the advice we offer, in order to turn this precious talent to account in the service of truth and justice. It is with eloquence as with all art; to succeed in it you must be made for it, or called to it incessantly, and in a manner almost unconquerable, by a mysterious tendency or inexplicable attraction, which influences the whole being, which ultimately turns to its object, as the magnetic needle to the north. At the root of all arts, so various in their expression, there is something in com- mon to them all — namely, the life of the soul, the life of the mind, which feels the want of diffusing, manifesting, and multiplying itself; each individual also has some- thing peculiar and original, by which he is impelled, on account of his special organization, or constitution of mind and body, to reproduce his mental life in such or such a way, by such or such means, or in such or such a material form. Hence the boundless diversity of the arts and of their productions. Speech is certainly the noblest and most powerful of the arts: first, because by its nature, it is nearest to the intelligence whose ideas it alone perfectly expresses; secondly, in consequence of the higher purity, the more exquisite delicacy of its means of expression, being the least gross of any, hold- ing on to earth by nothing save a light breath; lastly, on account of its great directness of action, so powerful over the mind, making it conceive things, comprehend thought, and grasp the truth. NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY 27 In order, then, to exercise with success the art of speaking — or to speak eloquently — it is necessary to have a natural talent, which is a gift of Heaven, and which all science with its precepts, and all earth's teach- ing with its exercises, are unable to supply. CHAPTER III MENTAL APTITUDES FOR PUBLIC SPEAKING, CAPABLE OP BEING ACQUIRED, OR FORMED BY STUDY The dispositions which can be acquired, or formed by study, come next after the natural aptitudes of the raind, and these will be the subject of this chapter. We give the name of acquired dispositions to certain aptitudes of mind, the germ of which is no doubt sup- plied by nature, but which may be called forth and de- veloped in a remarkable manner by instruction, practice, and habit, whereas purely natural talent, although it also may be perfected by art, resembles, nevertheless, to a certain extent, that instinct which attains its object at the first effort. It may even happen that a remarkable acquired ability, such, for instance, as the art of speak- ing rhetorically, has but slight natural root, that is, but little real talent, producing nothing except by dint of art, practice, and toil ; but if the natural root be absent, however beautiful the products may at first appear, peo- ple soon feel their artificial character and want of life. The acquired mental aptitudes are, the art or method of thinking and the art or method of saying. But be- fore considering them, we will say a few words about the orator's fund or store of acquirements, which must not be confounded with acquired qualities. 1— ACQUISITIONS OE FUND NEEDFUL TO THE ORATOR The orator's capital is that sum of science or knowl- edge which is necessary to him in order to speak per- 28 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 29 tinently upon any subject whatever; and science or knowledge are not extemporized. Although knowledge does not give the talent for speaking, still he who knows well what he has to say, has many chances of saying it well, especially if he has a clear and distinct concep- tion of it. "What you conceive aright you express clearly; And the words to say it in, come easily." It is an excellent preparation, then, for the art of speaking to study perseveringly — not merely the mat- ter about which you have to discourse — a thing always done before speaking in public, unless a person be pre- sumptuous and demented — but generally all those sub- jects which form part of a liberal education, and which constitute the usual instruction of men intended for in- tellectual and moral professions. These were what were formerly termed classical studies, and they included grammar, rhetoric, logic, a certain portion of litera- ture, history, mathematical and physical science, and re- ligious knowledge. These "classical studies" were per- fected and completed by the superior courses of the uni- versities. To have gone through a good educational career, or been distinguished at school, as it is commonly ex- pressed, is an immense advantage ; for it is in childhood and youth that the greatest number of things are learnt, and learnt best, in the sense, that knowledge acquired at that age is the most durable. It is more than this, it is ineffaceable, and constitutes an indestructible fund, a sort of mental ground-work upon which is raised all other instruction and education; and this fund, accord- ing to the manner in which it is placed in the mind determines the solidity and dimensions of each person's intellectual and moral existence. 30 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND It is impossible to estimate accurately the influence of the first instruction which a man receives: that influ- ence depends upon the virtue of the words which in- struct, and on the way they are received. It is a sort of fertilization, the fruits of which are sometimes slow in ripening, and come forth late. As the life-giving action of instruction cannot be exercised except by words and the signs of language, the form often overlies the spirit, and many retain scarcely more than the letter or the words, which they reproduce from memory with great facility. The larger part of infantiae successes and collegiate glories consist of this. Others, on the con- trary, deeply smitten with the spirit of what is said, early conceive ideas of a fertile kind destined to be- come the parent ideas of all their future thoughts. The more impressed and absorbed their mind is interiorly, the less vivid, the less brilliant it appears exteriorly. It carries within it confusedly ideas which are too great for what contains them, and of which it cannot yet render to itself an account; and it is only afterwards, when it has capacity and time for reflection, that it knows how to recognize, turn to advantage, and bring forth to the light, the treasures buried within. Hence two kinds of fund or of intellectual wealth, the fruit of instruction, and derived from the manner in which it has been given and received. 1. A collection of words, expressions, images, facts, superflcial thoughts, common places — ^things commonly received and already discussed; whatever, in a word, strikes the senses, excites the imagination, and easily impresses itself upon the memory. It is not to be denied that this intellectual baggage, however light, ac- cumulated during many years, and arranged with a cer- tain degree of order, may be of some service towards ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND 31 speaking with facility on some occasions, but then like a rhetorician; that is, composing on the instant a sort of discourse or harangue more or less elegant, wherein there may he certain happy expressions but few ideas, and which may yet afford a transient pleasure to the listener, without moving or instructing him. In many circumstances, discourses of this class are in keeping; they at least sufiSce. It is a part played in a given situation, a portion of the program performed, and it is assuredly an advantage not to be despised to acquit oneself of it with honor, or even without discredit. 2. But the real fund is in ideas, not in phrases, in the succession or connection of the thoughts, and not in a series of facts or images. He who has laid in a store in this manner is not so ready at a speech, because there is within him a veritable thought with which his spirit strives in order to master, possess, and manifest it, so soon as he shall have thoroughly entered into it; such a man speaks not merely from memory or imagination, only and always with a labor of the understanding, and then what he produces is something with life in it and capable of inspiring life — and this is just what distinguishes the orator from the rhetorician. The latter may charm by his language, but he im- parts no life ; and thus nothing is produced in the mind of the hearer. It is pleasant music which delights the ear for a moment, and leaves nothing behind it. Vox et prceterea nihil. The fonner raises up a new set of objects in the hearer's mind, producing therein feelings, affections, emotions, ideas; he renews it, transforms it, and turns it into a likeness of himself; and as the Almighty created all things by His word, so the true orator animates those who understand him by his, and makes them live 32 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND with his own intellectual life. But in this, as in all things, it is only by a Divine virtue that life is trans- mitted. The sacred fire which warms the bosom of the orator is inspiration from on high : pectus est quod diser- tum facit. "Without this life-giving fire, the finest phrases that can be put together are but sounding brass and tinkling cymbals. The fund to be amassed, therefore, by those who in- tend to speak in public, is a treasury of ideas, thoughts, and principles of knowledge, strongly conceived, firmly linked together, carefully wrought out, in such a way that, throughout all this diversity of study, the mind, so far as may be, shall admit nothing save what it thor- oughly comprehends, or at least has made its own to a certain extent, by meditation. Thus, knowledge be- comes strangely melted down, not cumbersome to the un- derstanding; and not overburdening the memory. It is the essence of things reduced to their simplest ex- pression, and comprising all their concentrated virtue. It is the drop of oil extracted from thousands of roses, and fraught with their accumulated odors; the healing power of a hundred-weight of bark in a few grains of quinine. In a word, it is the idea in its intellectuality, and metaphysical purity, compared to the multiplicity of facts and images from which it has been extracted, and of which it is the law. This point is not well enough understood in our day, when material things are made paramount, and the spirit is postponed to the letter — ^to such a degree indeed that even in instruction, and in spiritual or mental things, no less than in all else, quantity is considered more than quality. Under the specious pretext of preparing men betimes for their future profession in society, and of making them what are called special men, their attention is di- ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 33 rected from the tenderest age to phenomena, which occupy the senses and the imagination without exciting thought; and above all, without recalling the mind home to itself, in order to teach it self-knowledge, self- direction, and self-possession — worth, assuredly, the knowledge or possession of everything else. Instruction is materialized to the utmost; and in the same degree education is sensualized. It is driven headlong into that path which is the acknowledged reproach of con- temporary art — ^not nature and truth, but naturalism and realism. People care no longer for any but posi- tive, or, as it is styled, professional instruction — that is, such as may directly serve to earn the bread of this world. Men are trained for the one end of turning this earth to account, and securing in it a comfortable position. It is forgotten that the true man, like thought, is an idea even more than a body or a letter, and that the body and the letter have no value except from the idea which animates him, and which he should ex- press. The ideal is dreaded now-a-days, or rather it is not understood, it is no longer appreciated, because our views are absorbed by the real, and the pleasures of the body are more sought after than those of the mind. For this reason the natural and physical sciences, which make matter their study, with mathematics as their handmaidens, because they measure the iinite, are so much honored in our day. In these pursuits every- thit^ is positive — matter, form, letter, number, weight, and measure; and as the end of these studies is the amelioration, or at least the embellishment of earthly life, the multitude rushes readily in this direction, and the mind becomes the servant, or rather the slave of the body. Every science, at present, which is not directly or in- 34 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND directly subservient to some material want or enjoy- ment — that is, to something positive, as the saying is — falls into contempt and opprobrium, or is at least aban- doned. Philosophy furnishes a melancholy example. True, it has well deserved this fate by its excess and ex- travagance in recent times ; and the same will invariably befall it, whenever it effects independence, and refuses fealty to Divine authority. It is the same with litera- ture, the fine arts, and whatever promotes the civiliza- tion of men and the triumph of the Divine principle made after the image of God, over the brute formed after the image of the world. All these noble objects are abandoned as useless, or of little importance to the wants and happiness of actual society. Religion has alone survived, thanks to her unchangeable teaching and her Divine origin, which place her above human in- stitutions and the vicissitudes of earth. But for the Rock of the Divine "Word, but for the Divine founda- tion-stone, on which she is built, she also, under pretense of rendering her more useful or more positive, more suited to the wants and lights of the age, would have been lowered and materialized, then the last link which binds humanity to heaven would have been broken, and the spiritual man would have been whoUy interred in the slough of this world, buried in sensuality. Let but one glance be given at what has been the fate of Re- ligion and its Divine authority, in some instances and a notion will be gained of the degradation from which Re- ligion still preserves the human race. She is the last refuge of freedom and dignity of the mind against ma- terial force. Everywhere else, religious instruction, without faith and without fixed rule, is at the mercy of human science, and therefore of the world's power. ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 35 which makes that science the instrument of its own pre- dominance. I crave forgiveness for this digression which has es- caped from a heart deeply saddened at the lowering of our system of studies and the decline of our education, which will lead to a new species of barbarism in this age of ours. I return to my subject, that is, to the fund which he who wishes to speak in public should form within him- self; and I say to the young who may read me — if, in- deed, they will read me at all — I say, at least to those who may feel themselves impelled to the noble exercise of eloquence: "My young friends, before speaking, endeavor to know what you have to say, and for this, study — study well. Obtain by perseverance an acr quaintance first with all that relates to classical learn- ing; and then let each labor ardently in the depart- ment to which his vocation urges him. Whatever you study, do so solidly and conscientiously. Bend your whole mind to the object you seek to know, and let it not go till you have entered into, mastered, and grasped it, so as to comprehend it, to conceive it within your- selves, to possess the full idea of it, and to be able to give an account of it to yourselves and others. There is but one time for acquirement, the time of youth. Bees gather in the flower season only; they afterwards live upon their wax and honey. In youth all the facul- ties are wondrously adapted to receive and retain, and the mind eagerly welcomes what comes from without. It is now that supplies should be laid in, the harvest gathered, and stored in the garner. Later comes the threshing of the sheaves, and the severing of the grain from the straw — ^the grinding, the formation of pure 36 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND flour, the kneading of it, and the making of bread. But there would be neither bread, nor flour, nor grain, if there had been no reaping — and what can be reaped if the seed has not been cast, nor the ground opened and prepared? Sow, then, the field of your mind as much as possible, till it, and moisten it with your sweat, that the good seed may bear fruit, and use the sickle courageously in the heat of the day, in order to fill the storehouse of your understanding. Then when you shall have to feed a famishing people with the bread of eloquence, you will have in hand rich ears to beat, and generous grain yielding pure substance; from this sub- stance, kneaded in your mind with a little leaven from on high, imparting to it a divine fermentation, you may form Intellectual bread full of flavor and solidity, which wiU. give your audience the nourishment of mind and soul, even as bread gives aliment to the body." 2— TO KNOW HOW TO SPEAK, YOU MUST FIEST KNOW HOW TO THINK We now come to the acquired qualities properly so called, that is, to the art of thinking, and the method of expressing what is thought which may be learnt by study and formed by well-directed practice. Although we think by nature, yet is there an art of thinking which teaches us to do with greater ease and certainty what our nature, as rational beings, leads us to do spontaneously. In all that man voluntarily does, liberty has its own share; and liberty, which no- where exists without intelligence, is ever the source of progress and perfection. Man learns how to think as he learns how to speak, read, write, and sing, to move his body gracefully, and to use aU the powers of mind and body. ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 37 Logic teaches the art of thinking. The orator there- fore must be a good logician; not alone theoretically, but practically. It is not his business to know how to declaim about the origin and formation of ideas, nor about the four operations of thought. It is not the method of teaching, but the use of logic which he re- quires — and a prompt and dexterous familiarity with it he will not acquire except by long and repeated exer- cises, under the guidance of an experienced thinker, an artist of thought, who will teach him how to do with ease what he knows how to do already of himself im- perfectly. We, in this point of view, somewhat regret the disuse of the old syllogistic method of the schools; for we are convinced that, properly applied and seriously directed, it gives quickness, subtilty, clearness, and something sure and firm to the mind, rarely found in the thinkers of the present day. The fault formerly, perhaps, was in the excessiveness of the dialectical turn, and frequently the style became spoilt by dryness, heaviness, and an appearance of pedantry. Still, men knew how to state a question, and how to treat it : they knew at which end to begin it in order to develop and solve it ; and the line of the argument, distinctly marked out, led straight to the object and to a conclusion. The fault now-a-days is in an absence or deficiency of method. People re- main a long time before their subject without knowing how to begin it, even though they rightly understand its very terms. This superinduces interminable prepa- rations, desultory introductions, a confused exposition, a disorderly development, and finally no conclusion, or at least nothing decisive. There are really few men in our day who know how to think, that is, how to lay down and develop a subject in such a way as to instruct 38 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND and interest those who read them or listen to them. A horror is everywhere felt for rules or for what imposes constraint, and, as nearly all the barriers have been re- moved which supported and protected human activity by obliging it to exert itself within fixed lines, liberty has become disorder, men swerve from the track in order to walk at their ease ; and, far from gaining by it, they lose great part of their time and their strength in seek- ing a path which would have been shown them from the outset had they chosen to accept of discipline, and to allow themselves to be guided. In order to think iu their own fashion, or be original, they think at random, just as ideas happen to come, if any come; and the up- shot, for the most part, is vagueness, oddity, and con- fusion. This is the era of the vague and the almost. Everybody wants to speak of everything, as everybody wants to interfere in everything; and the result is that amidst this flood of thoughts, this overflow of divergent or irreconcilable words and actions, the minds of men, tossed to and fro, float uncertain, without a notion where they are going, just as the wind blows or the current drives. I would have, then, persons who are intended for public speaking, follow a course of logic, rather prac- tical than theoretic, in which the mind should be vigor- ously trained to the division and combination of ideas upon interesting and instructive topics. These exer- cises should be written or oral. Sometimes it should be a dissertation on a point of literature, morals, or history; and a habit should be acquired of composing with order and method, by pointing out, in proportion as the student proceeded, the several parts of the dis- course, the steps of the development, and means of proof — in a word, whatever serves to treat a subject suitably. ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 39 Sometimes it should be a discussion between several de- baters, with the whole apparatus and strict rules of a dialectic argument, under the master's direction; the disputants should not be allowed to proceed or conclude without reducing their thoughts to the forms of syl- logistic reasoning — a process which entails some length- iness, and even heaviness upon the discourse, but it gives greater clearness, order, and certainty. At other times, the debate might be extemporaneous, and then, in the un- foreseen character of the discussion and in all the sparks of intelligence which it strikes forth, will be seen the minds which are distinguished, the minds that know how to take possession of an idea at once, enter into it, divide, and expound it. There should, for every position or thesis, be the counter-position or antithesis, and some one to maintain it ; for in every subject there are reasons for and against. Thus would the student learn to look at things in various lights, and not to allow himself to be absorbed by one point of view, or by a preconceived opin- ion. But these gymnastics of thinking ought to be led by an intelligent master, who suffers not himself to be swayed by forms or enslaved by routine. Real thinking must be effected under all these forms of disputation and argument, but the letter must not kill the spirit, as fre- quently was the case in the schools of antiquity. For then it would no longer be anything but an affair of memory, and the life of intelligence would die away. I am convinced — and I have made the experiment for a length of years in the Faculty of Strasbourg, where I had established those exercises, which proved exceedingly useful — I am convinced that young men, who thus occu- pied themselves during a year or two in turning over and handling a variety of questions, in stirring up a multiplicity of ideas, and who should, with a view to 40 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND this, write and speak a great deal, always with order, with method, and under good guidance, would become able thinkers; and, if endowed with high intelligence, would become men mighty in word or in deed, or in both together, accordiag to their capacity, character and na- ture. 3— THAT GOOD SPEAKING MAY BE LEARNED, AND HOW However, it is not enough to think methodically, ia order to speak well, although, this be a great step to- wards it ; to express or say what is thought is also neces- sary; in other words, form must be added to the sub- stance. "We must learn then how to speak as weU as how to think well. Here, again, practice surpasses theory, and daily exer- cise is worth more than precepts. Rhetoric teaches the art of language; that is, of speaking or writing ele- gantly, while grammar shows how to do so with correct- ness. It is clear that before anything else, the rules of language must be known and observed; but correctness gives neither elegance nor grace, which are the most requisite qualities of the orator. How are they then to be acquired ? In the first place there is what cannot be acquired — a natural fund, which nature alone can give. Women are remarkable for it. The gracefulness with which nature has endowed them, diffuses itself generally into their language; and some speak, and even write, admirably, without any study; under the sole inspiration of feeling or passion. Credit, indeed, must be given to the medium in which they are placed, and the society in which they live, constituting a moral atmosphere in which their very impressionable and open minds — unless willfully ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND 41 closed — absorb all influences with avidity, and receive a kind of spontaneous culture and education. As plants, which bear in their germs the hidden treasures of the most brilliant and odoriferous flowers, inhale from the ground where they are fixed, and the air which encom- passes them, the coarsest juices and the subtilest fluids, which they marvelously transform by assimilation; so these delicate souls absorb into themselves all they come in contact with, all that impresses or nourishes them; which they manifest by a soft radiation, by a graceful efflorescence in their m.ovements, actions, words, and whatever emanates from their persons. "Women naturally speak better than men. They ex- press themselves more easily, more vividly; with more arch simplicity, because they feel more rapidly and more delicately. Hence the loquacity with which they are re- proached, and which is an effect of their constitution and temperament. Hence there are so many women who write in an admirable and remarkable manner, although they have studied neither rhetoric nor logic, and even without knowing grammar or orthography. They write as they speak; they speak pretty much as the birds sing — and their language has the same charm. Add to this the sweetness of their organ, the flexibility of their voice, the variety of their intonations, according to the feeling which animates them ; the mobility of their physiognomy, which greatly increases the effect of words, the pic- turesqueness of their gestures, and in short the grace- fulness of their whole exterior: thus, although not des- tined for orators by their sex or social position, they have all the power of the orator, and all his success, in their sphere, and in the circle of their activity. For none bet- ter know how to touch, persuade, and influence, which, I think, is the end and the perfection of eloquence. 42 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND Men, then, who wish to acquire the art of speaking, must learn by study what most women do naturally ; and in this respect those whose temperament most approaches the feminine, in greater sensibility, and livelier impres- sionableness, will have less difficulty than others, and will succeed better. However, as the man who speaks in public has to ex- press loftier ideas, general notions, and deeper or more extensive combinations, which imply depth — ^penetration of mind, and reflective power — qualities very scarce among women — ^he will never be able to expound these subjects, the result of abstraction and meditation, with grace of feeling and easiness of language spontaneously, and by nature. Here art must supply what nature re- fuses; by diligent labor, by exercises multiplied without end, the diction must be rendered pliable, the speech disciplined, and broken in, that it may become an amen- able instrument which, obedient to the least touch of the will, and lightest challenge of thought, will furnish in- stantly a copious style, seeming to flow spontaneously, the result nevertheless of the subtilest art ; like fountains which, with great cost and magnificence, carry the waters of our rivers into our squares, yet appear to pour forth naturally. Thus the words of the orator, by dint of toil and of art, and this even on the most abstract subjects, ought to attain a limpid and an easy flow, with which he hardly troubles himself, but to which his attention is all the time directed, in order to bring to light the ideas in his mind, the images in his fancy, and the emotions of his heart. Such is the talent to be acquired! Fit fdbricando faber, says the adage; and it is the same with the jour- neyman of words, and forger of eloquence. The iron must be often beaten, especially while it is hot, to give it ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 43 shape; so must we continually hammer language to be- come masters of it, and to fashion it, if we would be- come capable of speaking in public. It is not enough to learn the rules of style, the tropes and figures of rhetoric ; the use and proper application of them must be known ; and this cannot be learned except by much speaking and much writing under the direction of an able master, who knows how to write and speak himself; for in this both precept and example are necessary, and example is better than precept. He who has a capacity for public speaking will learn it best by listening to those who know how to speak well, and he wiU make more progress by striving to imitate them than by all their instructions : as the young birds, on their first attempts to quit the parent nest, try at first their unskillful flight in the track of their parents, guided and sustained by their wings, and venture not except with eyes fixed on them, so a youth, who is learning how to become a writer, follows his master with confidence while imitating him, and in his first essays cleaves timidly at his heels, daring in the beginning to go only where he is led, but every day tries to proceed a little farther, drawn on, and, as it were, carried by his guide. It is a great blessing to have an able man for a master. It is worth more than all books; for it is a living book, imparting life at the same moment as instruction. It is one torch kindling another. Then an inestimable advan- tage is gained, for, to the authority of the master, which youth is always more or less prone to dispute, is added the authority of talent which invariably prevails. He gladly receives the advice and guidance of the man whose superiority he recognizes. This much is needed to quell the pride of youth, and cast down, or at least abate, its presumption and self-confidence. It willingly M ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND listens to the master it admires, and feels happy in his society. I had this happiness, and I have always been deeply grateful to the Almighty who procured it for me, and to the illustrious man who was the instrument of His beneficence. For nearly four years, at the Lyceum of Charlemagne and the Ecole Normale, I profited daily by the lessons and example of Monsieur Villemain, then almost as young as his pupils; and, if I know any- thing of the art of speaking and writing, I say it before the world, to him, after God, I owe it. 4— THAT TO SPEAK WELL IN PUBLIC, ONE MUST FIRST KNOW HOW TO WHITE You will never be capable of speaking properly in public, unless you acquire such mastery of your own thought as to be able to decompose it into its parts, to analyze it into its elements, and then at need, to recom- pose, regather, and concentrate it again by a synthetical process. Now this analysis of the idea, which displays it, as it were, before the eyes of the mind, is well exe- cuted only by writing. The pen is the scalpel which dis- sects the thoughts, and never, except when you write down what you behold internally, can you succeed in clearly discerning all that is contained in a conception, or in obtaining its well-marked scope. You then under- stand yourself, and make others understand you. You should therefore begin by learning to write, in order to give yourself a right account of your own thoughts, before you venture yourself to speak. They who have not learned this first, speak in general badly and with difficulty; unless, indeed, they have that fatal facility, a thousand times worse than hesitation or than silence, which drowns thought in floods of words, or in a ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND 45 torrent of copiousness, sweeping away good earth, and leaving behind sand and stones alone. Heaven keep us from those interminable talkers, such as are often to be found in southern countries, who deluge you, rela- tively to anything and to nothing, with a shower of dis- sertation and a downpouring of their eloquence! Dur- ing nine-tenths of the time there is not one rational thought in the whole of this twaddle, carrying along in its course every kind of rubbish and platitude. The class of persons who produce a speech so easily, and who are ready at the shortest moment to extemporize a speech, a dissertation, or a homily, know not how to compose a tolerable sentence; and I repeat that, with such ex- ceptions as defy all rule, he who has not learnt how to write will never know how to speak. To learn to write, one must write a great deal in imi- tation of those who know how, and under their guidance, just as one learns to draw or paint from good models, and by means of wise instruction. It is a school process, or a workshop process, if the phrase be preferred, and to a great extent mechanical and literal, but indispen- sable to the student of letters. Thus the musician must tutor his fingers to pliancy, in order to execute easily and instantaneously all the movements necessary for the quick production of sounds, depending on the structure of his instrument. Thus, likewise, the singer must be- come master of all the movements of his throat, and must long and unremittingly practice vocal exercises, until the will experiences no difficulty in determining those contractions and expansions of the windpipe which modify and inflect the voice in every degree and frac- tion of its scale. In the same manner, the future orator must, by long study and repeated compositions of a finished kind, 46 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND handle and turn all expressions of language, various con- structions of sentences, and endless combinatione o(f words, until they have become supple and well-traLued instruments of the mind, giving him no longer any- trouble while actually speaking, and accommodating themselves unresistingly to the slightest guidance of his thought. With inverted languages, in which the sentence may assume several arrangements, this is more easy, for you have more than one way to express the same thought; and thus there are more chances of expressing yourself, if not better, at least more conveniently. But in our language,^ whose principal merit is clearness, and whose path is always the straightest, that is, the most logical possible — a quality which constitutes its value, for, after all, speech is made to convey our thoughts — ^it is more difficult to speak well, and especially to extemporize, be- cause there is but one manner of constructing the sen- tence, and if you have the misfortune of missing, at the outset, this direct and single way, you are involved in a by-path without any outlets, and can emerge from it only by breaking through the enclosures or escaping across country. You are then astray, or lost in a quick- sand — a painful result for all concerned, both for him who speaks, and for those who listen. It is therefore indispensable to acquire the perfect mastery of your instrument, if you wish so to play upon it in public as to give pleasure to others, and avoid bring- ing confusion upon yourself. As the violinist commands with the touch every part of the string, and his fingers alight on the exact point in order to produce the re- 1 The English language holds, in this respect, a middle place between the French and the two great all-capable tongues of classic antiquity. ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 47 quired sound, so the mind of the orator ought to alight precisely on the right word, corresponding to each part of the thought, and to seize on the most suitable ar- rangement of words, in order to exhibit the development of its parts with due regard to each sentence as well as to the whole discourse. An admirable and prodigious task in the quickness and certitude of the discernment is exe- cuted at the moment of extemporizing, and in the taste and the tact which it implies. And here especially are manifested the truth and use of our old literary studies and of the method which, up to our own day, has been constantly employed, but now apparently despised, or neglected, to the great injury of logic and eloquence. The end of that method is to stimulate and bring out the intelligence of youth by the incessant decomposi- tion and recomposition of speech — ^in other words, by the continual exercise of both analysis and synthesis; and that the exercise in question may be the more closely reasoned and more profitable, it is based simultaneously on two languages studied together, the one ancient and dead, and not therefore to be learnt by rote, the other living and as an analogous as possible to the first. The student is then made to account to himself for all the words of both, and for their bearings in particular sen- tences, in order to establish the closest parallel between them, the most exact equiponderanee, and so to repro- duce with all attainable fidelity the idea of one language in the other. Hence what are termed themes and ver- sions — ^the despair of idle school-boys, indeed, but very serviceable in forming and perfecting the natural logic of the mind, which, if carefully pursued for several years is the best way of teaching the unpracticed and tender reason of youth all the operations of thought — a faculty which, after all, keeps pace with words, and can work 48 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND and manifest itself only by means of the signs of lan- guage. The superficial or positive philosopher imagines that the object of this protracted trial, -which occupies the finest years of youth, is to learn Latin or Greek, and then exclaims that the result is not worth either the trouble or the time which it costs, and that, comparing one language with another, it would be more profitable to teach children modern and spoken tongues which might hereafter be of use to them in life. Such persons would be quite right if this were the only end in view ; for doubtless, French or German would be more service- able for travel, trade, or anything of that nature. But there is another object which these persons do not see, although it is the main object: which is to teach thinking to individuals who are destined to work in social life by their thought — ^to fashion laborers of the mind to the functions of intelligence, as an apprentice or handicraftsman is fashioned to material functions and bodily toil. As these last are taught to use their tools, and therefore to know them thoroughly and handle them skillfully, in like manner the former must also learn per- fectly the implements of their calling, and tools of their craft, in order to use them ably on all possible occasions. Now the necessary instrument — ^thought's indispensable tool — is language; and therefore, although people speak naturally and almost without any teaching, merely through living together, yet if a person wish to become an able workman of speech, and consequently of thought, as if he sought to be an able locksmith or a skillful mason, he must get instruction in the processes of art, and be initiated in the rules and methods which make it easier and more efficient. This is obtained by the study of languages which is ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND 49 the object of classical pursuits. Prom the elementary class to the "humanities," it is one course of logic by- means of comparative grammar — and it is the only logic of which youth is capable. It is the easiest training of thought by and through words, its material signs. A youth is thus taught for several years to learn the con- nections of ideas by the relations of words, which he is continually fashioning and re-fashioning; and while learning to form sentences, ever with a thought in view, the details of which he must explain and convey, he be- comes used to analysis and combination, and executes, in the humble functions of grammar, a prelude to the high- est operations of science, which, after all, are but the de- composition and marshaling of ideas. "Who does not at once see what facility the mind ac- quires by this perpetual comparison of the terms and idioms of two languages, which must be made to fit each other, and to what a degree thought becomes refined and subtile, in the presence of some idea which has to be ex- pressed? The phrases of two languages are measured and weighed incessantly; they are compared, each with each, and each with the idea, to ascertain which will ren- der it best. The efforts are not useless which are made by these youthful minds who thus, day after day, wrestle with the thoughts of the most illustrious writers of antiquity, in order to understand and translate them. How great a privilege to commune daily with the exalted reason, the noble ideas, and the splendid diction of those great and noble minds! How great the advantage derived from such an intercourse, and how great the intellectual gain in such a company, and daily familiarity ! Then what a pleasure to have found an equivalent term, and to have transferred into one's own language, with the same 50 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND vigor or the same delicacy, wliat some famous author has said in his! What profit in this concussion of idioms, from which the spark of ideas is so often stricken forth — ^this strife, unequal indeed, yet replete with a noble emulation, between a youth, trying the nascent strength of his thoughts, and some master mind whose works enlighten and guide humanity ! And finally, what more particularly concerns our subject, what facility of expression, what aptitude for extemporaneous speaking, must not accrue from this habit, contracted from child- hood, of handling and turning a sentence in every direc- tion, until the most perfect form be found, of combia- ing its terms in all ways, in order to arrive at the ar- rangement best fitted for the manifestation of the thought, of polishing each member of it by effacing as- perities and smoothing crevices, of balancing one sen- tence against another, in order to give the whole oneness, measure, harmony, and a sort of music, rendering it as a^eeable to the ear when spoken as it is luminous to the mind by which it is meditated. No; in no other way can the artist of words be ever formed; and if a different method be attempted, as is somewhat signified at present, you will have, not artists, but handicraftsmen. Means should always be propor- tioned to ends. If you want orators, you must teach them how to speak, and you will not teach them other- wise than they have been taught heretofore. All our (French) great orators of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries have been formed in this manner, and I am not aware that there have ever been greater writers in the world, or that the glory of France in this particular has been excelled. Let this splendor of civilization, this blooming forth of the mind in poetry, literature, and elo- quence, which have always been the brightest crown and ACQUIRED QUALITIES OP MIND 51 most beautiful garland of humanity on earth, be once abandoned, in favor of conquest, and of the riches pro- duced by industry and commerce — ^which are much to be admired, no doubt, but, after all, minister more to body than to soul — be it so; we shall perhaps become more learned in material things, and certainly more wealthy; we shall have more ways of winning money and of losing it, more ways of enjoying earthly life, and there- fore of wearing out, and perchance of degrading it : but shall we be the happier 1 This is not certain. Shall we be the better? — ^less certain still; but what is certain is, that the life of human society or civilization, however gilt, will be less beautiful, less noble, and less glorious. There is another practice which strikingly conduces to- wards facilitating expression and towards perfecting its form; we mean the learning by heart of the finest passages in great writers, and especially in the most musical poets, so as to be able to recite them at a single effort, at moments of leisure, during a solitary walk for instance, when the mind so readily wanders. This prac- tice, adopted in all schools, is particularly advantageous in rhetoric, and during the bright years of youth. At that age it is easy and agreeable, and he who aspires to the art of speaking ought never to neglect it. Besides furnishing the mind with all manner of fine thoughts, well expressed and well linked together, and thus nour- ishing, developing, and enriching it, it has the additional advantage of filling the understanding with graceful images, of forming the ear to the rhythm and number of the period, and of obtaining a sense of the harmony of speech, which is not without its own kind of music ; for ideas, and even such as are the most abstract, enter the mind more readily, and sink into it more deeply, when presented in a pleasing fashion. By dint of reading the 52 ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND beautiful lines of Corneille and Racine, Bossuet's ma- jestic and pregnant sentences, the harmonious and cadenced compositions of Fenelon and Massillon, one gradually and without effort acquires a language ap- proaching theirs, and imitates them instinctively through the natural attraction of the beautiful, and the pro- pensity to reproduce whatever pleases; and at last, by repeating this exercise daily for years, one attains a re- fined taste of the delicacies of language and the shades of style, just as a palate accustomed to the flavor of the most exquisite viands can no longer endure the coarser. But what is only a disadvantage in bodily taste, at least under certain circumstances, is always beneficial to the literary taste, which should seek its nutriment, like the bee, in the most aromatic portions of the flower, in order to combine them into delicious and perfumed honey. By this process is prepared, moreover, in the imagin- ative part of the understanding, a sort of capacity for the oratorical form, for the shaping of sentences, which I cannot liken to anything better than to a mold care- fully prepared, and traced with delicate lines and varied patterns, into which the stream of thought, flowing full of life and ardor from a glowing mind in the fire of declamation or composition, becomes fixed even while it is being cast, as metal in a state of fusion becomes in- stantaneously a beautiful statue. Thus the oratorical diction should be cast, all of one piece, by a single throw in order to exhibit a beautiful and a living unity. But for this a beautiful mold is indispensable, and the young orator, who must have further received from nature the artistic power, cannot form within him that mold save with the assistance of the great masters and by imitating them. Genius alone is an exception to this rule, and genius is rare. ACQUIRED QUALITIES OF MIND 53 The best rhetorical professors, those who are veritably artists of speech, and seek to fashion others to their own likeness, recommend and adopt this exercise largely; it is irksome to the indolent, but it amply indemnifies the toil which it exacts by the fruits which it brings. There is, besides, a way of alleviating the trouble of it, and that is, to read and learn select pages of our great authors, while strolling under the shades of a garden or through some rich country, when nature is in all her brilliancy. You may then recite them aloud in such beautiful scenery, the impressions of which deliciously blend with those of eloquence and song. Every young man of any talent or literary taste has made the experiment. Dur- ing the spring time of life, there is a singular charm for us in the spring time of nature ; and the redundance of fresh life in a youthful soul trying its own powers in thought, in painting, or in poesy, is marvelously and in- stinctively wooed into sympathy with that glorious life of the world around, whose fertilizing virtue evokes his genius, while it enchants his senses by the subtilest emo- tions, and enriches his imagination with varied pictures and brilliant hues. Moreover — and this is a privilege of youth, which has its advantages as well as its inconveniences — poetry and eloquence are never better relished, that is, never with greater delight and love, than at this age, in the dawn of the soul's life, amidst the first fruits of the imagina- tion and the heart's innocence, in the opening splendors of the ideal, which seems to the understanding as a rising sun, tinging and illumining all things with its radiant fires. The beauty that is understood and that which is merely sensible wondrously harmonize; they give each other enchantment and relief; or, to speak more truly, material beauty is appreciated only through the reflected 54 ACQUIEED QUALITIES OF MIND light of mental beauty, and as the rays emitted by an idea illuminate and transfigure nature's forms and na- ture's life — so nature, on the other hand, while it lov- ingly receives the luster of some heavenly thought, re- fracts it gloriously in its prisms, and multiplies, while re- fleeting its beams. All this the youthful orator, or he who has the power to become one, will feel and experience, each person according to his nature and his character, as he awakens the echoes of some beautiful scene with the finest accents of human eloquence or poetry. While impressiag these more deeply in his memory, by help of the spots wherein he learns them, which will add to and thereafter facili- tate his recollections, he will imbibe unconsciously a two- fold life, the purest and sublimest life of humanity, and that great life of nature which is the thought of the Al- mighty diifused throughout creation. These two great lives, that of man and that of nature, which spring from the same source, and thither return, blended without being confounded within him, animating and nourishing his own life, the life of his mind and of his soul, wiU yet draw forth from his bosom, from his poet's or orator's heart, a stream of eloquence or of song which will run an imperishable course. CHAPTER IV PHYSICAL QUALITIES OF THE ORATOR, NATURAL AND ACQUIRED It is not enough for the orator to have ideas and to know how to express them, impartiag the most graceful turn to his diction, and pouring forth copious words into the form of a musical and sonorous period ; he must fur- ther know how to articulate his speech, how to pronounce and deliver his discourse. He must have propriety of voice and gesture, or the oratorical action — a thing of im- mense importance to the success of eloquence, iu which nature, as in everything, has a considerable share, but art may play a great part. Here, then, also is to be de- veloped a natural predisposition, and a certain skill is to be acquired. 1— THE VOICE The voice, including all the organs which serve to pro- duce or modify it, is the speaker 's chief instrument ; and its quality essentially depends, in the first instance, upon the formation of the chest, the throat, and mouth. Art can do little to ameliorate this formation, but it can do much to facilitate and strengthen the organic movements in all that regards breathing, the emission of sound, and pronunciation. These matters ought to be the object of a special duty. It is very important, in speaking as in singing, to know how to send forth and how to husband the breath, 65 56 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES so as to spin lengthened sounds and deliver a complete period, without being blown, and without breaking a sentence already begun, or a rush of declamation by a gasp — needful, indeed, for lungs that have failed, but making a sort of disagreeable gap or stoppage. Care should also be taken not to speak too fast, too loud, or with too much animation at the outset; for if you force your voice in the beginning you are presently out of breath, or your voice is cracked or hoarse, and then you can no longer proceed without repeated efforts which fatigue the hearers and exhaust the speaker. AU these precautions, which appear trivial, but which are really of high importance, are learned by labor, prac- tice, and personal experience. Still it is a very good thing to be warned and guided by the experience of others, and this may be ensured advantageously by fre- quent recitations aloud under the direction of some master of elocution. Enough stress is not laid on these things, if, indeed, they are attended to at all, in the schools of rhetoric, in literary establishments, and in seminaries — wherein ora- tors, nevertheless, are expected to be formed. Scarce any but actors now-a-days trouble themselves about them, and that is the reason we have so few men in the liberal professions who know how to speak, or even to read or recite a discourse rightly. On this point the ancients had a great advantage over us; they attached far more importance than we do to oratorical action, as we see in the treatises of Cicero and Quintilian. It was with them one half of eloquence at the least ; and it is said that Demosthenes made it the orator's chief quality. They, perhaps, went too far in this respect; and it came, doubtless, of their having to speak before the multitude, whose senses must be struck. PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 57 whose passions must be excited, and on whom power and brilliancy of voice have immense effect. As for us, we fall into the contrary extreme, and frequently our or- ators, even those most distinguished in point of style, do not know how to speak their speeches. "We are so unused to beauty of form and nobility of air, that we are amazed when we meet them. There is a certain orator of our day who owes his success and reputation merely to these advantages. On the other hand, these alone are too lit- tle; we miss much when a fine elocution and an elegant or splendid delivery carry off commonplace thoughts and expressions, more full of sound than of sense. This is quickly perceived in the perusal of those harangues which produced so great an effect when de- livered, and in which scarcely any of the emotions expe- rienced in listening to them is recovered after they have once been fixed warm, as it were, on paper by the re- porter's art. The spell of the oratorical action is gone from them. The modulation of the voice proceeds principally from the larynx, which produces and modifies it, almost with- out limit, by expansion and contraction. First, then, we have the formation of the larynx, with its muscles, cartilages, membranes, and tracery, which are to the emission of vocal sound what the involutions of the brain probably are, instrumentally, in the operations of thought. But, in the one case as in the other, the con- nection of the organs with the effects produced entirely escapes us ; and although we are continually availing our- selves of the instrument, we do not perceive in any man- ner the how of its ministrations. It is only by use, and experiments often repeated, that we learn to employ them with greater ease and power, and our skill in this respect is wholly empirical. The researches of the subtilest 58 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES anatomy have given us no discovery in the matter. All that we have ascertained is, that every voice has its nat- ural bell-tone, which makes it a bass voice, a tenor, or a soprano, each with intermediate gradations. The middle voice, or tenor, is the most favorable for speaking; it is that which maintains itself the best, and which reaches the farthest when well articulated. It is also the most pleasing, the most endearing, and has the largest re- sources for inflection, because, being in the middle of the scale, it rises or sinks with greater ease, and leans itself better to either hand. It therefore commands a greater variety of intonations, which hinders monotony of elocu- tion, and reawakens the attention of the hearer, so prone to doze. The upper voice, exceedingly clear at first, is continu- ally tending towards a scream. It harshens as it pro- ceeds, and at last becomes falsetto and nasal. It re- quires great talent, great liveliness of thought, language, and elocution to compensate or redeem this blemish. One of the most distinguished orators of our time is an example in point. He used to succeed in obtaining a hearing for several hours together, in spite of his lank and creaking voice — a real victory of mind over matter. A bass voice is with difficulty pitched high, and con- tinually tends back. Grave and majestic at the outset, it soon grows heavy and monotonous ; it has magnificent chords, but, if long listened to, produces frequently the effect of a drone, and soon tires and lulls to sleep by the medley of commingling sounds. "What, then, if it be coarse, violent, uttered with bursts? Why, it crushes the ear, if it thunders in too confined an apartment ; and if it breaks forth amidst some vast nave, where echoes al- most always exist, the biUows of sound reverberating from every side blend together, should the orator be PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 59 speaking fast, and the result is a deafening confusion, and a sort of acoustic chaos. It is an advantage, then, to a speaker to have a middle voice, since he has the greater play for expression in its more numerous inflections. It is easy to understand how, by constant practice, by frequent and intelligent recitations under able guidance, a person may become master of these inflections, may produce them at will, and raise and lower his voice in speaking as in singing, either gradually or abruptly, from tone to tone, up to the very highest, according to the feeling, the thought, or the emotions of the mind. Between the acts of the mental life and those of the organs which are subservient to them there is a natural correspondence and an inborn analogy, by virtue of the human constitution, which con- sists of a soul in union with a body ; and, for this reason, all the impressions, agitations, shudderings, and throb- bings of the heart, when it is stirred by the affections and the passions, no less than the subtilest acts, the nimblest operations of the intelligence — ^in a word, all the modi- fications of the moral life should find a tone, an accent in the voice, as well as a sign in language, an accord, a parallel, in the physical life, and in its means of expres- sion. In all cases, whatever be the tone of the voice, bass, tenor, or soprano — ^what most wins upon the hearers, what best seizes and most easily retains their attention, is what may be called a sympathetic voice. It is difficult enough to say in what it consists ; but what very clearly characterizes it is the gift of causing itself to be attended to. It is a certain power of attraction which draws to it the hearer's mind, and on its accents hangs his attention. It is a secret virtue which is in speech, and which pene- trates at once, or little by little, through the ear to the 60 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES mind or into the heart of those who listen, charms them, and holds them beneath the charm to such a degree that they are disposed, not only to listen, but even to admit what is said, and to receive it with confidence. It is a voice which inspires an affection for him who speaks, and puts you instinctively on his side, so that his words find an echo in the mind, repeating there what he says, and reproducing it easily in the understanding and the heart. A sympathetic voice singularly helps the effect of the discourse, and is, besides, the best, the most insinuating of exordiums (introductions). I know an orator who has, among other qualities, this in his favor, and who, every time he mounts the pulpit, produces invariably a profound sensation by his apostolic countenance, and by the very first sounds of his voice. Whence comes, above all others, this quality which can hardly be acquired by art? First, certainly from the natural constitution of the vocal organ, as ia singing; but, next to this, the soul may contribute much towards it by the feelings and thoughts which actuate it, and by the efforts which it makes to express what is felt, and to convey it to others. There is something sympathetic in the lively and sincere manifestation of any affection ; and when the hearer sees that the speaker is really moved, the motion gains him by a sort of contagion, and he be- gins to feel with him and like him, as two chords vi- brating in unison. Or, again, if a truth be unfolded to him with clearness, in good order, and fervently, and if the speaker shows that he understands or feels what he says, the hearer, all at once enlightened and sharing in the same light, acquiesces willingly, and receives the words addressed to him with pleasure. In such cases the power of conviction animates, enlivens, and transfig- PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 61 ures the voice, rendering it agreeable and effective by- virtue of the expression, just as a lofty soul or a great mind exalts and embellishes an ordinary and even an ugly countenance. The best -way in which an orator can impart to his voice the sympathetic power, even when he may happen not to have it naturally, is to express vividly whatever he says, and consequently to feel it well himself, in order to make others feel it. Above all, the way is, to have great benevolence, great charity in the heart, and to love to put them in practice, for nothing gives more of sympathy to the voice than real goodness. Here the precepts of art are useless. "We cannot teach emotion, nor quick feelings, nor the habit of throwing ardor and transport into word and action; it is the pectus (heart) which accomplishes all this, and it is the pectus also which makes the orator — Pectus est quod disertum facit. For which reason, while we admit the great efScacy of art and precept in rendering the voice supple, in disciplining it, in making it obedient, ready, capable of traversing all the degrees of inflection, and producing each tone ; and while we recommend those who desire to speak in public to devote themselves to this pre- liminary study for the formation of their instrument, like some skillful singer or practiced actor, we must still remind them that the best prepared instrument remains powerless and dead unless there be a soul to animate it ; and that even without any culture, without preparation, without this gymnastic process, or this training of the vocal organs, whoever is impelled to speak by feeling, by passion, or by conviction, will find spontaneously the tone, the inflections, and all the modifications of voice which can best correspond with what he wishes to express. Art is useful chiefly to reciters, speakers from 62 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES memory, and actors, and thus, it is not to be denied, much effect may also be produced by the illusion of the natural. Still, it is after all an illusion only, a semblance of nature, and thus a thing of artifice ; and nature itself will always be superior to it. For the same reason an extemporized address, if it be such as it ought to be, is more effective, and more im- pressive, than a recited discourse. It smacks less of art, and the voice vibrating and responsive to what the speaker feels at the moment, finds naturally the tone most proper, the true inflections, and genuine expression. 2— UTTERANCE Utterance is a very important condition of being audi- ble, and consequently of being attended to. It deter- mines the voice, or the vowel, by the modification which this last receives from the consonant; it produces syl- lables, and by joining them together, gives the words, the series of which forms what is termed articulate language. Man being organized for speech speaks nat- urally the language he hears, and as he hears it. His instinctive and original pronunciation depends on the formation of the vocal organs and the manner in which those around him pronounce. Therefore, nature discharges here the chief function, but art may also exert a certain power either to correct or abate organic defects or vicious habits, or to develop and perfect favorable aptitudes. Demosthenes, the great- est orator of antiquity, whose very name continues to be the symbol of eloquence, is a remarkable case in point. Everybody is aware that by nature he had a difficulty of utterance almost amounting to a stammer, which he suc- ceeded in overcoming by frequently declaiming on the PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 63 sea-shore with pebbles in his mouth. The pebbles obliged him to redouble his exertions to subdue the rebellious organ, and the noise of the surge, obliging him to speak more loudly and more distinctly in order to hear his own words, accustomed him to the still more deafening up- roar of the people's mighty voice in the market-place. Professors of elocution lay great stress on the manner of utterance, and they are right. To form and "break" the organs to a distinct and agreeable utterance, much practice is requisite, under able tuition, and such as af- fords an example of what it inculcates. First, there is the emission of the voice — ^which the practitioner should know how to raise and lower through every degree within its range — and in each degree to in- crease or diminish, heighten or soften its power accord- ing to circumstances, but always so as to produce no sound that is false or disagreeable to the ear. Then comes articulation, which should be neat, clear, sharply cut — ^yet unexaggerated, or else it will become ) heavy, harsh, and hammer-like, rending the ear. Next to this the prosody of the language must be ob- served, giving its longs and its shorts ; as in singing, the minims, semibreves, quavers, and crotchets. This im- parts to the sentence variety, movement, and measure. A written or spoken sentence admits, indeed, strictly of notation as well as a bar of music ; and when this nota- tion is followed by the voice of the speaker, naturally or artificially, the discourse gains in expression and pleas- antness. Moreover there is accentuation, or emphasis, which marks the paramount tone of each sentence, and even in each word, the syllable on which the chief stress should be' laid. Art may here effect somewhat, especially in the 64 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES enunciation of words ; but as regards the emphasis of the sentence, it is impressed principally by the palpitation of the soul, thrilling with desire, feeling, or conviction. Finally, there is the declamatory movement, which, like the measure in music, should adapt itself to what is to be conveyed, now grave and solemn, now light, rapid, with a guiding reia, slackening or urging the pace, be- coming nervous or gentle, according to the occasion; bursting forth at times with the vehemence of a torrent, and at times flowing gently with the clearness of a stream, or even trickling, drop by drop, like water noise- lessly filtered ; which, at last, fills the vessel that receives it, or wears out the stone on which it falls. In vocal speech, as in vocal music, there are an in-. finitude of gradations; and the orator should have the feeling, the instinct, or the acquired habit of all these effects; and this implies in him a special taste and tact which it may develop, but can never implant. And. thus there is need of caution here, as in many other cases, not to spoil nature by science, while endeavoring to per- fect her. School precepts may teach a manner, a certain mechanical skill in elocution, but can never impart the sacred fire which makes speech live, nor those animated, delicate, just feelings of an excited or impassioned soul, and of a mind convinced, which grasps on the instant the peculiarity of expression and of voice which are most appropriate. In general the masters of elocution and enunciation somewhat resemble M. Jourdain's professor of philos- ophy, who shows him how to do with difficulty, and badly, what he used to do naturally and well. We all speak prose, and not the worst prose, from the outset. It is pretty nearly the same with the enunciation of a dis- course ; and with the utterance, the accentuation, and the PHYSICAL ACQUIEED QUALITIES 65 management of speech. The best guides in these mat- ters, the implied predispositions, are nature and the in- spiration of the moment; while example is the most profitable Mnd of teaching. He who has a turn for elo- quence will learn how to speak by hearing good speak- ing. It is orators who principally form orators. 3— ORATORICAL ACTION Under this title are particularly comprised the move- ments of the countenance, the carriage and postures of the body, and above all gesticulation — three things which naturally accompany speech, and in an extraordinary de- gree augment its expressiveness. Here, again, nature achieves a great deal; but art also assists, especially in the management of the body, and ia gesticulation. An idea may be derived of what the countenance of the speaker adds to his address from the instinctive want we experience of beholding him, even when he is already suf- ficiently audible. Not only all ears, but all eyes likewise are bent upon the speaker. The fact is that man's face, and, above all, his eye, is the mirror of his soul ; also, in the lightning of the glance, there is a flush of luster which illumines what is said; and on this account it was un- speakably to be regretted that Bourdaloue should have spoken with his eyes closed. One of the disadvantages of a recited speech is to quench, or at least to enfeeble and- dim the brilliancy of the discourse. Besides which the rapid contractions and dilatations of the facial muscles — ^whieh are each moment changing and renewing the physiognomy, by forming upon the visage a sort of picture, analogous to the speaker's feel- ing, or to his thought — ^these signs of dismay or joy, of fear or hope, of affliction of heart or of calmness, of storm or serenity, all these causes which successively 66 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES plow and agitate the countenance, like a sea shaken by> the winds, and which impart so much movement and life to the physiognomy that it becomes like a second dis- course which doubles the force of the first — ought to be employed by the orator as so many means of effect, mighty with the crowd whom they strike and carry away. But it is under nature's dictate that he will best employ them; and the best, the only method which it behooves him to foUow in this respect is to grasp powerfully, and to conceive thoroughly, what he has to unfold or to de- scribe; and then to say it with all the sincerity and all the fervor of conviction or emotion. The face will play its own part spontaneously; for, as the various move- ments of the countenance are produced of their own ac- cord in the ratio of the feeling experienced, whenever you are really moved and under the influence of passion, the face naturally adapts the emotion of the words, as these that of the miad; and art can be of little avail under these circumstances. Let us, in truth, not forget that the orator is not an actor, who plays a fictitious character by putting himself in another's position. He must, by dint of art, enter into the situation which he represents, and thus he has no means of becoming impressed or moved except by the study of his model, and the meditation of his part. He must, accordingly, compose his voice as well as his countenance, and it requires great cleverness and long habit to imitate by the inflections of the voice, and the play of the physiognomy, the true and spontaneous feel- ing of nature. The actor, in a word, is obliged to grim- ace morally as well as physically; and on this account, even when most successful, when most seeming to feel what he impersonates, as he in general feels it not, some- PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 67 thing of this is perceptible; and it is the most consum- mate actor's life, that, through a certain illusion of the imagination, his acting is never more than a grimace. Hence the vice, and hence the disfavor of that profession, notwithstanding all the talent and study which it re- quires ; there is always something disingenuous in saying what you do not think, in manifesting sentiments which are not your own. The orator, on the contrary, unless he chooses to be- come the advocate of falsehood, is always with the truth. He mvist feel and think whatever he says, and conse- quently he may allow his face and his eyes to speak for themselves. As soon as his soul is moved, and becomes fervid, it will find immediate expression in his counte- nance and in his whole person, and the more natural and spontaneous is the play of his physiognomy, the more ef- fect it will produce. It is not the same, or not to the same degree, with regard to the movements of the body and to gesticulation. The body, indeed, and limbs of the speaker, animated by a soul expressing itself fervidly, will represent naturally to a certain degree, by their outward movements the inward movements of the mind. But the machinery, if I may so, is more complicated, heavier, arid more cumbersome, because matter p^re- dominates here ; it is not easy to move without awkward- ness and elegantly the whole bulk of the body, and par- ticularly the arms, which are the most mobile organs, and those most in sight. How many have a tolerably good notion of speaking, and cannot move their arms and hands properly, or have postures of head and attitudes which are at once ungraceful and at variance with their words. It is in this department of action that speakers most betray their inexperience and embarrassment ; and, 68 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES at the same time, the clumsiness or inappropriateness of the gestures ; the puerility or affectation of the attitudes used are enough to spoil the best speech's effect. Efforts are worth making, then, to acquire beforehand good habits in this respect, in order that the body, trained with deliberation to impulse of the words, and to adapt itself to their inspiration, may execute of its own accord, and gracefully, the most expressive movements, may it- self take the most appropriate attitudes, and not have its limbs working ineffectually or untowardly, with the arms motionless and tied down to the figure, or the hands nailed to the pulpit or the platform balustrade. An abrupt or jerky gesticulation is specially to be avoided, such as a regular swing up and down, down and up again, of the speaker's arms, which gives the appearance of two hatchets incessantly at work. Generally speak- ing, moderation is better than superfluity of gesticula- tion. Nothing is more wearisome to the audience than a violent delivery without respite ; and next to a monotony of voice, nothing more readily puts it to sleep than a ges- ture, forever repeated, which marks with exactness each part of the period, as a pendulum keeps time. This portion of oratorical delivery, more important than is supposed, greatly attended to by the ancients, and too much neglected by the modems, may be acquired by all the exercises which form the body, by giving it carriage and ease, grace of countenance and motion ; and still more by well-directed studies in elocution in what concerns gesture under a clever master. To this should be added the often-repeated study of the example of those speakers who are most distinguished for the quality in question — which is only too rare at the present day. But what perhaps conduces more than all this to form the faculty mentioned is the frequenting good company PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 69 — that is, of the society, most distinguished for elegance of language and fine manners. Nothing can supply the place in this regard of a primary education in the midst of the most refined class. In this medium the youth fashions himself, as it were, of his own accord, by the impressions he is every moment receiving, and the Instinctive imitation of what he sees and hears. It is the privilege of high society, and of what used to he called men of the court. There one learns to speak with cor- rectness and grace, almost without study, by the mere force of habit; and if persons of quality combined with this facility of elocution that science, which is to be ac- quired only by study, and the power of reflection, which is formed chiefly in solitude — and this is not very com- patible with the life of the great world — ^they would achieve oratorical successes more easily than other peo- ple. But they are, for the most part, deficient in acquire- ments — ^whereas learned and thinking men generally err in the manner. To sum up : over and above the store of science and of knowledge indispensable to the orator — ^who, beyond everything, should be acquainted vnth his subject — ^the predispositions most needful in the art of speaking, and susceptible of acquisition, are — 1. The habit of taking thought to pieces, and putting it together — or analysis and synthesis. 2. A knowledge of how to write correctly, clearly, and elegantly. 3. A capacity for the handling of language at will and without effort, and for the sudden construction of sentences, without stoppages or faults. 4. A power of ready and intelligent declamation. 5. A neat, distinct, and emphatic utterance. 70 PHYSICAL ACQUIRED QUALITIES 6. A good carriage of body. 7. An easy, expressive, and graceful gesticulation. 8. And, above all this, manners and an air of distinc- tion, natural or acquired. PAET II CHAPTEE V DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT We have stated all the dispositions, natural or acquired, which are necessary, or, at all events, most useful to the orator. We proceed now to set him to work, and we shall consider him in all the steps of his task, and the succes- sive processes which he has to employ, to carry it pros- perously to completion. It is perfectly understood that we make no pretense to the laying down of rules ; our object is not to promulgate a theory nor a didactic treatise. We are giving a few recommendations derived from our own experience — and each person will take advantage of them as he best may, adopting or leaving according to his convenience what he chooses, and following his own bent or requirements. Each mind, inasmuch as it is a personality, has its individual character, its own life, which can never be an- other's, although it resembles all of its kind. If in the physical world there are no two things quite alike, still less are there among intelligent and free creatures. Here, a still more wondrous variety prevails in conse- quence of a certain liberty which exists, and which acts in these different manners, though limited to certain general conditions of development and subject to the same laws. To this is due the originality of minds, which 71 72 DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT is, in the intellectual order, what responsibility is in the moral. But while fully granting this variety of action, spring- ing from the nature, dispositions, and circumstances of each person, still, after all, as we are of the same species and the same race, and as our mental and physical or- ganization is at the root the same, we must all, when in similar situations, act in a manner fundamentally analo- gous, although difiEerent as to form ; and for this reason, indications of a general nature, the result of a long and laborious experience, may, •within a eertaiu measure, prove useful to aU., or at least to many. This it is which encourages us to unfold the results of ours, giving them for what they are, without imposing them on anybody, in the deeply sincere desire of doing a service to the young generation which comes after us, and sparing them the rocks and mishaps of a difficult navigation often accomplished by us. To speak in public is to address several persons at once, an assemblage incidentally or intentionally col- lected, for some purpose or other. Now this may be done under the most diverse circumstances, and for various objects — and accordingly the discourse must be adapted both in matter and in form to these varying conditions. Yet are there requisites common to them all, which must be everywhere fulfilled, if the speaker would speak per- tinently, and with any chance of success. In fact, the end of public speaking is to win the assent of the hearers, to imbue them with your own convic- tions, or at least to incline them to feel, to thiuk, and to will according to your purpose, with reference to a given object. Hence, whenever you speak, and whatever the audience, there is something to be said which is indi- DIVISION OF THE SUBJECT 73 cated by the circumstances ; there is the way in saying it, or the method and plan according to which you will un- fold your thought ; and finally there is the realization of this plan by the actual discourse, composed and uttered on the instant before those whom you would persuade. Thus in an extemporaneous discourse there are three things to be considered : — 1. The subject being supplied by the circumstances, there is the preparation of the plan or the organization of the discourse, by means of which you take possession of your subject. 2. The transcript of impression of this plan (originally fixed on paper by the pen) in the head of the speaker, wherein it should be written in a living fashion. 3. The discourse itself, or the successive and, as far as possible, complete spoken realization of the plan pre- pared. Sometimes the two first operations blend into one — as, for example, you have to speak suddenly without having time to write your plan or to consider it. But when time is allowed, they should be separate, and each requires its own moment. "We proceed to examine these three matters in suc- cession. CHAPTER VI PEEPAEATION OF THE PLAN The preparation of the plan of a discourse implies, be- fore anything else, a knowledge of the things about which you have to speak ; but a general knowledge is not enough ; you may have a great quantity of materials, of docu- ments, and of information in your memory, and not be aware how to bring them to bear. It sometimes even happens that those who know most, or have most matter in their heads, are incapable of rightly conveying it. The over abundance of acquisition and words crashes the mind, and stifles it, just as the head is paralyzed by a too great determination of blood, or a lamp is ex- tinguished by an excess of oil. You must begin, therefore, by methodizing what you know about the subject you wish to treat, and thus, in each discourse, you must adopt as your center, or chief idea, the point to be explained, but subordinate to this idea all the rest, in such a way as to constitute a sort of organisim, having its head, its organs, its main limbs, and all the means of connection and of circulation by which the light of the paramount idea, emanating from the focus, may be communicated to the furthest parts, even to the last thought, and last word ; as in the human body the blood emerges from the heart, and is spread through- out all the tissues, animating and coloring the surface of the skin. Thus only will there be life in the discourse, because a 74 PREPARATION OF THE PLAN 75 true unity will reign in it — ^that is, a natural unity re- sulting from an interior development, an unfolding from ■within, and not from an artificial gathering of hetero- geneous members and their arbitrary juxtaposition. This constitutes the difference between words that live and words that are dead. These last may often also have a certain brilliancy from the gorgeousness of the style or the elegance of the sentence, but after having for a moment charmed the ear, they leave the mind cold and the heart empty. The speaker not being master of his subject, which he has not gone into, nor made his own by meditation, reflects or reverberates other people's ideas, without adding to them a particle of his heat or of his life. It is a pale and borrowed light which, like that of the moon, enables you to see vaguely and indistinctly, but neither warms nor fertilizes ; possessing only a frigid and deadened luster. Speakers of this kind, even when they extemporize, speak rather from memory than the understanding or feelings. They reproduce more or less easily shreds of what they have read or heard — and they have exactly enough mind to effect this reproduction with a certain facility, which tends to fluency or to twaddle. They do not thoroughly know what they are speaking about ; they do not themselves understand all they say, still less make others understand. They have not entered into their subject; they have filled their apprehension with a mass of things relating to it, which trickle out gradually as from a reservoir or through a tap which they open and shut at pleasure. Eloquence of this description is but so much plain water, or rather it is so much troubled water, bearing nothing along its passage but words and the specters of thoughts, and pouring into the hearer's mind disgust, wearisomeness, and nausea. Silence, 76 PREPARATION OF THE PLAN which would at least leave the desire of listening, were a hundredfold preferable ; but these spinners of talk, who give us phrases instead of thoughts, and exclamations in- stead of feelings, take away all wish to hear and inspire a disgust for speaking itself. There is no way of avoiding this disadvantage except by means of a well-eoneeived, deeply-considered, and seriously-elaborated plan. He who knows not how to form such plan will never speak in a living or an ef- fective manner. He may become a rhetorician; but he will never be an orator. Let us, then, see by what process this foundation of the orator's task must be laid; for it is to a discourse what the architect's design is to a building. The plan of a discourse is the order of the things which have to ie unfolded. You must therefore begin by gathering these together, whether facts or ideas, and ex- amining each separately, in their relation to the subject or purport of the discourse, and in their mutual bear- ings with respect to it. Next, after having selected those which befit the subject, and rejecting those which do not, you must marshal them around the main idea, in such a way as to arrange them according to their rank and im- portance, with respect to the result which you have in view. But, what is worth still more than even this com- position or synthesis, you should try, when possible, to draw forth, by analysis or deduction, the complete de- velopment of one single idea, which becomes not merely the center, but the very principle of the rest. This is the best manner of explaining or developing, because ex- istences are thus produced in nature, and a discourse, to have its full value, and full efficiency, should imitate her in her vital process, and perfect it by idealizing that process. PKEPARATION OP THE PLAN 77 In fact, reason, when thinking and expressing its thought, performs a natural function, like the plant which germinates, flowers, and bears fruit. It operates, indeed, according to a more exalted power, but it follows in the operation the same laws as all beings endued with life ; and the methods of analysis and synthesis, of deduction and induction, essential to it have their types and symbols in the vital acts of organic beings, which all proceed likewise by the way of expansion and con- traction, unfolding and enfolding, diffusion and col- lection. The most perfect plan is, therefore, the plan which organizes a discourse in the manner nature constitutes any being fraught with life. It is the sole means of giving to speaking a real and natural unity, and, conse- quently, real strength and beauty, which consist in the unity of life. This is doubtless the best method; but you can often but make an approach towards it, depending on the na- ture of the subject and the circumstances in which you have to speak. Hence a few differences, which must be mentioned, in the elaboration of the plan. In the first place, we give warning that we do not mean to concern ourselves with that popular eloquence which sometimes fulminates like a thunderbolt amidst the anarchy of states in riots, insurrections, and revolu- tions. Eloquence of that sort has no time to arrange a plan ; it speaks according to the circumstances and, as it were, at the dictate of the winds by which it is borne along; it partakes of that disorder which has called it forth, and this is what, for the most part, constitutes its power, which is mighty to destroy. It acts after the fashion of a hurricane, which upsets everything in its course by the blind fuiy of the passions which it arouses, 78 PREPARATION OF THE PLAN of the unreasoning wills wMch it carries with it, and yields no ray from the light of thought, nor a charm from the beauty of style. This instinctive and not very intelligent kind of eloquence is to that of which we are treating as the force of nature, when let loose in the earthquake or in great floods, is to the ordinary and regular laws of Providence, which produces, develops, and preserves whatever exists ; it is the force of the steam which bursts the boiler, and spreads disaster and death wherever it reaches; whereas, when powerfully com- pressed within its proper limits, and directed with intelli- gence, it works regularly under the control of a skillful hand, and toils orderly and in peace for the welfare of men. We have no recommendations, then, to offer to the ora- tors of cabal rooms and riots, nor even to those who may be called on to resist or quell them. It is hard to make any suitable preparation in such emergencies, and, be- sides, they are fraught with so much of the unforeseen, that, in nine cases out of ten, all preparation would be disconcerted. What can be done is what must be done, according to the moment ; and, in general, it is the most passionate, the most violent, and he who shouts the loudest who carries the day. Moreover, there is nearly always a species of fatality which prevails in these situa- tions : the force of things crushes the force of men. It is a rock loosened from the mountain-side, and falling headlong — a torrent swelling as it rushes onward, or the lava of a volcano overflowing: to endeavor to stay them is madness. All one can do is to protect oneself; the evil will be exhausted by its own course, and order will return after the storm. But in the normal state of society — and it is for that state we write — ^by the very fact of social organization. PREPAEATION OF THE PLAN 79 and springing out of its forms, there are constantly cases in which you may be called to speak in public, on ac- count of the position which you fill or the duties which you discharge. Thus, committees will continually exist, in which are discussed state or municipal interests, and deliberative or boardroom resolutions are passed by a majority of votes, whatever may be the constitution or the power of such assemblies — considerations with which we have no concern here. There will always be a council of state, general and borough councils, legislative as- semblies, parliaments, and committees of a hundred sorts. In the second place, there will always be tribunals where justice is dispensed, and where the interests of individuals, in collision with those of the public or with one another, have to be contended for before judges whom you must seek to convince or persuade. There will always be a system of public teaching to en- lighten and train the people, whether by the addresses of scientific men, who have to instruct the inhabitants in various degrees, and to inform them what is needed for the good guidance of public and of private life in temporal matters, or by the addresses of the ministers of religion, who, teaching in the name of the Almighty, must unremittingly remind men of their last end, and of the best means with which to meet it, making their earthly and transitory interest subordinate to their celestial and everlasting happiness. Here, then, we have four great fields in which men are daily called on to speak in public, in order there to discuss the gravest interests of society, of family, and of individuals, or else to unfold truths more or less lofty, often hard to comprehend or to admit, and the knowl- edge or conviction of which is of the highest moment to 80 PREPARATION OF THE PLAN the welfare of society and persons. It is anything but immaterial, then, that men belonging to such callings, destined from day to day to debate public or private con- cerns, or to demonstrate the fundamental truths of science and religion, should know how to do so with method, clearness, power, and gracefulness — in one word, with all the means of persuasion — that they may not fail in their mission, and especially that they may dissemi- nate and render triumphant in the minds of men, to- gether with good sense and right reason, that justice, that truth, and those principles, in the absence of which nothing can be stable or durable among nations. This alone would show what importance for good or for evil the orator may acquire in society, siace to his lot it falls to prepare, train, and control almost all the resolutions of communities or of individuals, that can modify their present or decide their future condition. Our remarks then will apply to four classes of speakers — the political orator ; the forensic orator, whether magis- trate or advocate; the orator of education, or the pro- fessor: and the orator of the Christian pulpit, or the preacher. In these four arenas, the political assembly, the sanctuary of justice, the academy, and the Church, extemporaneous speaking is daily practiced, and is capable of the most salutary influence, when fraught with ability, life, and power, or, in other words, when performed with eloquence. CHAPTER VII POLITICAL. AND FORENSIC SPEAKING I WILL say but little of political and forensic speaking, because I have not been used to either, and my wish is to be exponent of my own experience. I leave profes- sional adepts to give their colleagues the best of all ad- vice, that derived from actual practice. This would re- quire details with which nothing but the exercise of public duties, or of the bench and bar themselves, could make us acquainted. I will therefore confine myself to a few general remarks derived from the theory of the oratorical art, as applied to the duties of the politician and advocate. The political orator may have two sorts of questions to treat — questions of principle, and questions of fact. In the latter, which is the more ordinary case, at least among well constituted communities, whose legislation and government rest upon remote precedents and are fixed by experience, the plan of a discourse is easy to construct. "With principles acknowledged by all parties, the only point is to state the matter with the circum- stances which qualify it and the reasons which urge the determination demanded from the voice of the assembly. The law or custom to which appeal is made, constitutes the major premiss (as it is termed in Logic) ; the actual case, brought by the circumstances, within that law or those precedents, constitutes the minor premiss; and the conclusion follows of its own accord. In order to 81 82 POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING carry away the assent of the majority, you describe the advantages of the proposed measure, and the inex- pediency of the opposite course, or of any other line. To treat such subjects properly, there needs no more than good sense, a certain business habit, and a clear con- ception of what you would say and what you demand. You must thoroughly know what you want, and how to express it. In my mind, this is the best political elo- quence, that is, business speaking, expounding the busi- ness clearly, succinctly with a knowledge of the matter, saying only what is necessary, with tact and temperately, and omitting all parade of words and big expressions, even those which embody sentiments, save now and then in the exordium and peroration, according to the ease. It is in this way that they generally speak in the British Parliament; and these speeches are of some use; they come to something, and carry business forward, or end it. Happy the nation which has no other sort of political eloquence ! Unfortunately for us, another sort has prevailed in our own parliamentary assemblies. Among us, from the day that representative govern- ment was established, political discourses have almost in- variably turned upon questions of principle; no well es- tablished and universally respected constitution — ^no set- tled course of legislation confirmed by custom — ^no recog- nized and admitted precedents — ^things all of which strengthen the orator's position, because he has already decisions on which to rest, and examples to give him their support. Time has been almost always employed, or rather wasted in laying down principles, or in trying to enforce what were advanced as principles. The consti- tution itself and, consequently, the organization of so- ciety and government have always been subjects of dis- pute; and all our assemblies — ^whatever the name with POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING 83 which they have been adorned — have been directly or in- directly in the state of a constituent (or primary) body. Now, this is the worst of situations for the orator, for the assemblies themselves, and for the country; and ex- perience has proved it, in spite of some good speeches, and the reputation of several orators of whom France is proud. In these eases, in fact, the speaker is greatly at a loss how to treat new and unexampled questions, except by foreign instances which are never exactly applicable to another country. His ideas, not being enlightened or supported by experience, remain vague and float in a kind of chaos ; and yet, as demonstration requires a basis of some sort, he is obliged to have recourse to philosophic theories, to abstract ideas which may always be disputed, which are often obscure and unintelligible to the ma- jority of the hearers, and are impugned by the votaries of hostile systems. Once launched into /the ideas of philosophers the debate knows neither limits nor law. The most "irreconcilable opinions meet and clash, and it is not always light which springs from their collision. On the contrary the longer the deliberation continues, the thicker the darkness becomes; Parliament degener- ates into an academy of philosophers, an arena of sophists and rhetoricians ; and, as something must be con- cluded, either because of the pressure of necessity, or in consequence of the wearisomeness of the speeches and the satiety of debate, the discussion is closed without the question having been settled, and the votes, at least those of the majority, are given, not in accordance with any convictions newly acquired, but with the signal of each voter's party. It is said that such a course is necessary in an assembly, if business is to be transacted; and I believe it, since 84 POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING there would otherwise be no end of the deliberation. But it must be conceded to me withal, that to vote from confidence in party leaders, and because these have marked out the path to be pursued, is not a very enlight- ened way of serving one's country and discharging the trust reposed by a constituency. Unfortunately, decisions thus formed lead to nothing permanent, and that is the fatal thing both for the as- semblies and for the nation. They found nothing, be- cause they are not held in serious regard by a com- munity, divided like their Parliaments into majorities and minorities, which obtain the mastery in turn over each other. It comes to pass that what one government does the next cancels; and as the battle is perpetually re- newed, and parties competing for power attaia it in more or less rapid succession, every form of contradic- tion, within a brief space, appears and vanishes, each having sufficiently prevailed in rotation to destroy its rival. Hence a profound discredit in public opinion for laws continually passed and continually needing to be passed again, and thus incapable of takiag root either in the minds of the citizens or in their reverence. Legis- lation becomes a species of chaos in which nothing can be solidly fixed, because it abounds with elements of re- volt which combat and disorganize whatever is produced there. Moreover — and this too is a calamity for the country — as parties are, for the most part, not unevenly matched, and as the majority depends on a few votes, in order to come to a decision so habitually uncertain, it is necessary, on important occasions, to make a fusion or coalition of parties in one way or another by the lures of private interest, which can be effected only through POLITICAL AND FOEBNSIC SPEAKING 85 mutual concessions; and then, when unanimity appears to have been procured in the mass of stipulations, each person, desirous of obtaining his own guarantees, re- quires that some special provision, on his account, be introduced in some particular to the subversion of the general design. Now, let but three or four parties exist in a national assembly (and it is a blessing if there be no more), and it is easy to see what sort of law it wiU be which is thus made; a species of compound, mixed of the most irreconcilable opinions; a monstrous being, the violently united parts of which wage an intense war, and which, therefore, after all the pain which its produc- tion has cost, is incapable of life. Nor can such laws be applied ; and after a disastrous trial, if they are not pres- ently abolished by the party which next obtains the mastery in its turn, they fall into disuse, or operate only by dint of exceptions and makeshifts, remaining as a cumber and a clog in the wheels of the political machine, which they continually threaten with dislocation or an upset. "Whatever may have been said or done in our own day, there is nothing more deplorable for a people than a con- stitution-making assembly; for it is a collection, of philosophers or of men who fancy they are such, who do not quite understajid themselves, and assuredly do not understand each other. Then are the destinies of a na- tion, its form of government, its administration, its con- dition and its fortune, its welfare and its misery, its glory and its shame, consigned to the hazards and the contradictions of systems and theories. Now, only name me a single philosopher who has ut- tered the truth, and the whole truth, about the prin- ciples, metaphysical, moral, and political, which should serve as the basis of the social structure. Have they not 86 POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING in this most serious concern, to even a greater degree than in other matters, justified that remark of Cicero, that there is not an absurdity which has not found some philosopher to maintain it? If you set several of them together, then, to work out a constitution, how can you hope they will agree? They cannot agree except in one way — that which we just now described — ^by mutual con- cessions extorted from interest, not from conviction ; and the force of things will oblige them to produce a ridicu- lous and impracticable result, repugnant to the good sense and conscience of the nation. But how then, it will be said, make a nation's consti- tution? To this I answer, a nation's constitution is not made, it grows of itself; or rather it is Divine Provi- dence, who assumes the office of making it by the process of centuries, and writes it with His finger in a people's history. It was thus the English constitution was formed, and that is why it lasts. Or if, unhappily, after a revolution which has de- stroyed all a countx'y's precedents, which has shaken and uprooted everything in the land, it becomes necessary to constitute it anew, we must then do as the ancients did, who had more sense than we have in this respect; we must entrust the business to one man endowed with an intelligence and an authority adequate to this great feat, and impersonating, for the moment, the entire nation; we must commit it to a Lycurgus, a Solon, or a Pytha- goras; for nothing needs more wisdom, reason, or cour- age than such an enterprise, and men of genius are not always equal to it, if circumstances do not assist them. At all events, to this we must come after revolu- tions, and their various experiments of parliamentary constitution. The seven or eight constitutions of the first republic ended in that of the empire which sprang full POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING 87 armed from the head of the new Jupiter; and the Con- stituent Assembly of 1848, with its new birth so laboriously produced, but no more capable of life than the others, vanished in a single day before the constitu- tion of the new empire, which is nothing at the root but that of the old. By this road we have come — if not to that liberty of which they have said so much, but which they never allowed us to behold — to good sense and order, and to the peace of social life. In one word, then, I will say, to close what relates to political eloquence : if you have to speak on a matter in which there are admitted principles and authorized prece- dents, study it well in its connection with both, that you may have a foundation and examples. Then examine it in all its actual elements, all its ramifications and conse- quences. You will then easily construct your plan, which must be determined by the nature of things, and when you have well conceived and pondered it, you will speak easily, simply, and effectively. But if you must discuss the origin of society, the rights of men and nations, natural rights and social rights, and other questions of that kind, I have but one advice to give you: begin by reading on these questions all the systems of the philosophers and jurists, and after doing so, you will be so much in the dark, and will find such difficulty in arriving at a rational conviction, that if you are sincere and honest, that is, unwilling to assert or maintain anything except what you know or believe, you will decline speaking, and adopt the plan of keeping si- lence, in order not to add to darkness or increase the confusion. As to the bar, with the exception of the adjustments of com prices^ and the harangues at the opening of the 1 In France and some other countries, as in England formerly, 88 POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING courts, which are didactic or political, and therefore, be- long to another class of speaking,'- the addresses or plead- ings whether by advocates, or from the floor of the court, are always business speeches; and accordingly the plan of them is easy, because it is pointed out by the facts, and by the development of the matter in litigation. Be- sides, the speaker, in this description of discourse, has his papers in his hand ; and a man must be truly a block- head, or else have a very bad cause to sustain, if he do not with ease keep to the line of his subject, to which everything conspires to recall and guide him. It is the easiest sort of speaking, because it demands the least in- vention, and because by comparing, however superficially, the facts of the ease with the articles of the law, the reasons for and against occur of themselves, according to the side you wish to espouse, and the only thing in general to be done is to enumerate them with an ex- planation of each. And yet, in this, as in everything, good speeches are rare, because talent is rare in all things; it is surely easier to be decently successful in a description of speak- ing which comprises a number of details, proceeds en- tirely upon facts, and is constantly supported by notes and corroborative documents. The preparation of the plan in addresses of this na- ture costs, therefore, little trouble. The character of the subject bears nearly all the burden, and not much re- mains for the invention or imagination. "We should add that, having never pleaded, we cannot speak in any way from experience, and theory is hardly of any use in such matters, government interferes to settle the market conditions of certain staples, such as corn, flour, and bread. 1 [Not applicable to the United States.] POLITICAL AND FORENSIC SPEAKING 89 The great difficulty for the forensic orator is not to develop his matter, or to discover what to say, but, on the contrary, to restrict it, to concentrate it, and to say nothing but vrhat is necessary. Advocates are generally prolix and diffuse, and it must be said in their excuse, they are led into this by the nature of their subject, and by the way in which they are compelled to treat it. Having constantly facts to state, documents to interpret, contradictory arguments to discuss, they easily become lost in details to which they are obliged to attach great importance ; and indeed more or less subtile discussion on the articles of the law, of facts, and of objections oc- cupies a very large space. It requires an exceedingly clear mind and no ordinary talent, to avoid being car- ried along by the current of this too easy eloquence, which degenerates so readily into mere fluency. Here, more than elsewhere, moderation and sobriety deserve praise, and the aim should be, not to say a great deal, and to avoid saying too much. CHAPTER VIII SPEAKING PBOM THE CHRISTIAN PULPIT, AND IN TEACHING "We unite in our inquiry, so far as the preparing of a plan is concerned, both pulpit and professional speaking. Although there is a striking difference between these two modes of speaking, on account of the situation of the orators, and of the subjects which they handle — a, differ- ence which we will indicate in passing — ^yet a great analogy subsists between them, especially in what re- gards the plan; for they both aim at instructing the hearers as their ultimate end — ^that is, they aim at mak- ing the hearers understand and admit a truth, at impress- ing it on their conviction or persuasion, and at showing them the best means of applying it or putting it in prac- tice. This resemblance, which may seem paradoxical at first sight, is nevertheless founded in nature, if these several kinds of discourses be thoroughly appreciated and con- sidered, as to the end which they have in view, and not merely as to the oratorical form or words. What, in fact, is the preacher's grand aim? Whither must he tend with all his might? What do the nature and the gravity of his ministry make incumbent upon him? Clearly, the religious and moral instruction of those who listen to him, in order to induce them by a knowledge and conviction of the Divine Word, to observe it in their conduct, and to apply to their actions its pre- 90 ON PREACHING AND TEACHING 91 cepts, counsels, and inspirations. Wherefore, whether he expound a dogma, or morals, or what relates to worship and to discipline, he always takes as his starting point and basis some truth, doctrinal or practical, which he has to explain, analyze, unfold, maintain, and elucidate. He must shed light by means of and around that truth, that it may enter the hearer's mind, and produce therein a clear view, a conviction, and that it may arouse or in- crease his faith; and this faith, this conviction, this en- lightenment must induce him to attach himself to it, to seize it through his volition, and to realize it in his life. However great may be, after that, the ornament and pomp of the style, the brilliancy and variety of imagery, the movement and pathos of the phrases, the accent and the action: whether he excite powerfully the imagina- tion, or move the sensibility, awake the passions, or cause the heartstrings to vibrate, all that is well and good, but only as accessory, and because all these means help the end, which is always the transmission of the truth. All these things lose, without the principal one, their real efficacy ; or, if they produce any effect, it will neither be deep nor lasting, from there being no basis to the speech ; and from the orator having labored much on the outside, and adorned what appears on the exterior, will have placed and left nothing inside. In one word, there is no idea in those words; only phrases, images and move- ments. I know well that one can carry away men with these, and inflame them for the moment ; but it is a blind- ing influence, that often leads to evil, or at least to an exaggeration that cannot be kept up. It is a passing warmth that soon cools in the midst of obstacles, and fades easily in the confusion it has caused through im- prudence and precipitation. An idea, or the absence of an idea, teaching earnestly, 92 ON PREACHING AND TEACHING or speaking only to the imagination, convincing the mind and persuading volition, or carrying away the heart by the excitation of sensibility — these distinguish sacred orators as well as others. But to instruct and convince the listener, one must be instructed and convinced. To make truth pass into other minds, one must possess it in one's own ; and this can only be done both for oneself and for others, independently of supernatural faith, which is the gift of God, by an earnest meditation of the holy Word, and the energetic and persevering labor of thought applied to the truth one wishes to expound, and the point of doctrine one has to teach. The same exists in all kinds of scientific or literary teaching. It is evident in philosophy. He who teaches has al- ways a doctrine to expound. Let him treat of faculties of the soul; of the operation of thought and its method; of duties and rights; of justice; of what is good; and even of what is beautiful ; of the Supreme Being ; of be- ings and their laws ; of the finite and the infinite ; of con- tingent and necessary matter; of the relative and the absolute : he has always before him an idea to expose, to develop and illustrate; and the acquaintance with this idea that he tries to form in his disciples must help to make them better as well as more enlightened, or else philosophy is no more worthy of her name. She would neither be the lover of wisdom nor its pursuit. If in the teaching of national sciences the professor limits himself to practical experiences, to describe facts and phenomena, he will, no doubt, be able to amuse and interest his listeners, youth particularly; but then he is only a painter, an experimenter, or an empiric. His is natural philosophy in sport, and his lectures are a kind of show, or recreative sittings. To be really a professor he must teach, and he can only teach through ideas ; that ON PEEACHING AND TEACHING 93 is, by explaining the laws that rule facts, and by connect- ing them as much as possible with the whole of the admi- rable system of the creation. He must lead his disciples up to the heights that command facts; down in the depths from whence spring phenomena; and there will only be science in his teaching if he limits it to some heads of doctrine, the connection of which constitutes precisely the science of which he is the master. He will then be able to follow them in their conse- quences, and to confirm their theory by applications to mechanical and industrial arts, or to any other use for humanity. The teaching of letters and of arts is in the same con- dition: it always must be directed by the exposition of principles, rules, and methods. It is not sufficient to ad- mire ecstatically great models, and become enthusiastic for master works. It is something without doubt, when the enthusiasm is sincere and the admiration is truly felt ; but the teaching must be didactic ; he must himself learn while he teaches the secret of the work; he must indicate the process, and direct the work. He must teach the pupils to acknowledge, to have a taste for what is beautiful, and to reproduce it; and for that we must be able to say in what the beautiful consists in each art, and how we come to discern it in nature, to preserve or imagine it in our minds while idealizing it, and to trans- fer the ideal into reality by the resources of art. Although here facts and examples have more influence, because feeling and imagination play the chief part in the work, yet ideas are also necessary, and especially in literature, poetry, and the arts of language. That which chiefly distinguishes artists and schools from each other is the predominance of the idea, or the predominance of the form. The most beautiful forms in the world, with- 94 ON PREACHING AND TEACHING out idea, remain superficial, cold, and dead. The idea alone gives life to any human production, as the Divine ideas vivify the productions of nature. For in all things the spirit quickeneth ; but the letter, when alone, killeth. Therefore, he who teaches literature or art ought to have a method, a certain science of his art, the principles of which he should expound, by rules and processes, apply- ing them practically, and supporting them with ex- amples. "Were we to pass in review all kinds of instruction one after another, we should find the same end and the same conditions as in pulpit discourse or in religious teaching; namely: the clear exposition of same truth for the in- struction of the hearer, with a view to convince him and induce him to act according to his conviction. Let us see, then, at present in a general way, how we should set about preparing the plan of a discourse, and doing what we have just said, whether as a preacher or as a professor. We shall here speak from experience, a circumstance which gives us some confidence, because we are about to expound with simplicity what we have been accustomed to do for nearly forty years in teaching philosophy, and what we still do, and desire to do while any strength and energy remain, in the pulpit. CHAPTER IX DETERMINATION OF THE SUBJECT AND CONCEPTION OP THE IDEA OP THE DISCOURSE He who wishes to speak in public must, above all, see clearly on what he has to speak, and rightly conceive what he has to say. The precise determination of the subject, and the idea of the discourse — ^these are the two first stages of the preparation. It is not so easy as it seems to know upon what one is to speak: many orators, at least, seem to be ignorant of it, or to forget it, in the course of their address; for it is sometimes their ease to speak of all things except those which would best relate to the occasion. This exact de- termination of the subject is still more needful in ex- temporization; for there many more chances of dis- cursiveness exist. The address not being sustained by the memory or by notes, the mind is more exposed to the influences of the moment; and nothing is required but the failure or inexactitude of a word, the suggestion of a new thought, a little inattention, to lure it from the sub- ject, and throw it into some crossroad, which takes it far away. Add the necessity of continuing, when once a speech is begun, because to stop is embarrassing ; to with- draw, a disgrace. Therefore, in order to lead and sustain the progress of a discourse, one must clearly know whence one starts, and whither one goes, and never lose sight of either the point of departure or the destination. But, to effect this, 95 96 THE SUBJECT AND ITS POINT the road must be measured beforehand, and the principal distance marks must have been placed. There is a risk else of losing one's way, and then, either one arrives at no end, even after much fatigue, productive of inter- minable discourses leading to nothing — or if one at last reaches the destination, it is after an infinity of turns and circuits, which have wearied the hearer as well as the speaker, without profit or pleasure for anybody. The determination of the subject ought not to fix merely the point upon which one has to speak, but fur- ther the radiation of this point and the circumference which it will embrace. The circle clearly may be more or less extensive, for all things are connected in the world of ideas, even more than in that of bodies, and as, in fine, all is in each, you may speak of everything in connection with anything, and this is what too often befalls those who extemporize. Then the discourse leads the mind, not the mind the discourse. It is a ship which falls away for want of a helm, and he who is within, unable to control her, aban- dons himself to the current of the stream, at the risk of wrecking himself upon the first breaker, and not knowing where he shall touch the shore. It is but wise, then, not to begin a speech without hav- ing at least by a rapid general view, if there be no time to prepare a plan, decided the main line of the discourse, and sketched in the mind an outline of its most promi- nent features. In this precepts are not of great use; good sense, tact, and a clear and lively intelligence are requisite to seize exactly the point in question and to hold to it; and for this end nothing is better than to formularize it at once by some expression, some proposi- tion, which may serve to reduce the subject to its simplest shape, and to determine its proportions. THE SUBJECT AND ITS POINT 97 A question well stated is half solved. In like manner a subject well fixed admits of easier treatment, and singularly facilitates the discourse. As to the rest, the occasion, the circumstances, and the nature of the subject, do much in the same direction. There are cases in which the subject determines itself by the necessity of the situa- tion and the force of things. The case is more em- barrassing when the speaker is master of circumstances, as in teaching, where he may distribute his materials at his pleasure, and design each lesson's part. In any case, and howsoever he sets to work, each discourse must have its own unity, and constitute a whole, in order that the hearer may embrace in his understanding what has been said to him, may conceive it in his own fashion, and be able to reproduce it at need. But the general view of the subject, and the formula which gives it precision, are not enough ; the idea of it, the living idea, the parent idea, which is the source of the life in a discourse, and without which the words will be but a dead letter, must be obtained. What is this parent idea, and how do we obtain it ? In the physical world, whatever has life comes from a germ, and this germ, previously contained in another living existence, there takes life itself, and on its own account, by the process of fecundation. Fecundated, it quits its focus ; punctum saliens, it radiates and tends to develop itself by reason of the primordial life which it bears within it, and of the nurture it receives; then by gradual evolution, it acquires organic form, consti- tuted existence, individuality, and body. It is the same in the intellectual world, and in all the productions of our mind, and by our mind outside of it- self, through language and discourse. There are in our understanding germs of mental existences, and when they 98 THE SUBJECT AND ITS POINT are evoked by a mind which is of their own nature, they take life, become developed and organized, first in the depth of the understanding which is their brooding re- ceptacle, and finally passing into the outer world by that speech which gives them a body, they become incarnate there, so to speak, and form living productions, instinct with more or less of life by reason of their fecundated germ, of the understanding which begets them, and of the mind which vivifies them. In every discourse, if it have life, there is a parent idea or fertile germ, and all the parts of the discourse are like the principal organs and the members of an ani- mated body. The propositions, expressions, and words resemble those secondary organs which connect the prin- cipal as the nerves, muscles, vessels, tissues, attaching them to one another and rendering them co-partners in life and death. Then amid this animate and organic mass there is the spirit of life, which is in the blood, and is everywhere diffused with the blood from the heart, life's center, to the epidermis. So in eloquence, there is the spirit of the words, the soul of the orator, inspired by the subject, his intelligence illumined with mental light, which circulates through the whole body of the dis- course, and pours therein brightness, heat, and life. A discourse without a parent idea is a stream without a fountain, a plant without a root, a body without a soul; empty phrases, sounds which beat the air, or a tinkling cymbal. Nevertheless, let us not be misapprehended ; if we say that a discourse requires a parent idea, we do not mean that this idea must be a new one, never before conceived or developed by any one. Were this so, no more orators would be possible, since already, from Solomon's day, there has been nothing new under the sun, and the cycle THE SUBJECT AND ITS POINT 99 of ages continually brings back the same things tinder different forms. It is not likely, then, that in our day there should be more new ideas than in that of the King of Israel ; but ideas, like all the existences of this world, are renewed in each age, and for each generation. They are repro- duced under varied forms and with modifications of cir- cumstances: "Non nova sed nove," said Vincent of Lerins. The same things are differently manifested; and thus they adapt themselves to the wants of men, which change with time and place. For this reason the orator may, and should say, an- cient things, in substance; but he will say them in an- other manner, corresponding with the dispositions of the men of his epoch, and he will add the originality of his individual conception and expression. For this purpose, in all the rigor of the word he should conceive his subject, in order to have the idea of it ; this idea must be bom in him, and grow, and be organized in a living manner; and as there is no conception without fecundation, this mental fecundation must come to him from without, either spontaneously, or, at least, in an in- visible manner, as in the inspirations and illuminations of genius — or, what oftener happens, by means of the at- tentive consideration of the subject and meditation upon the thoughts of others. In any case, whatever be the fashion of the under- standing's fecundation, and from whatever quarter light comes to it — and light is the life of the mind — he must absolutely conceive the idea of what he shall say, if he is to say anything fraught with life, and now new but original — ^that is, engendered, bom in his mind, and bear- ing the character of it. His thoughts will then be proper to him (his own) by virtue of their production, and de- 100 THE SUBJECT AND ITS POINT spite their resemblance to others — as children belong to their mother, notwithstanding their likeness to all the members of the human race. But they all and each possess something new for the family and generation in which they are to live. It is all we would say when we require of him who has to speak in public, that he should have, at least, an idea to expound, sprung mentally, if we may so say, from his loins, and produced alive in the in- tellectual world by his words, as in the physical order a child by its mother. This simply means, in the lan- guage of common sense, that the orator should have a clear conception of what he would say. CHAPTER X CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT DIRECT METHOD How ensure a good conception of your subject? There are two ways or methods ; the one direct, which is always the best when you can take it ; the other indirect, longer and less certain, but more accessible to beginners, more within reach of ordinary minds, and serving to form them. You may indeed use both ways; either coming back the second way, when you have gone out by the first, or beginning with the easiest, in order to arrive at the most arduous. The main way, or that which by preeminence deserves the designation, consists in placing yourself immediately in relation with the object about which you have to speak, so as to consider it face to face, looking clean through it with the mind's eye, while you are yourself irradiated with the light which the object gives forth. In this crossing of rays, and by means of their inter- penetration, a conception, representing that object which begets it, is produced in the understanding, and partakes of the nature of that in which it is formed, and which contains it. In this case a fecundation of the mind, or subject, is affected by the object, and the result is the idea of the object, begotten and brought into a living state in the understanding by its own force. This idea is always in the ratio of the two factors or causes which combine 101 102 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT to call it forth, of their relation to each other, and of the success with which the union is effected. If the mind be simple, unwarped, pure, greedy of knowledge, and eager after truth — ^when it places itself before the object fully, considers it generally, at the same time that it opens itself unreservedly to its light with a wish to be penetrated by it, and to penetrate it, to become united to it with all its strength and capacity ; and if, further, it have the energy and persistency to maintain itself in this attitude of attention without dis- traction, and collecting all its faculties, concentrating all its lights, it makes them converge upon this single point, and becomes wholly absorbed in the union which thus ensures intellectual fecundity, the conception then takes place after a normal and a plenary fashion. The 'Very life of the object, or thing contemplated, passes with its light into the subject or mind contemplating, and from the life-endowed mental germ springs the IDEA, at first weak and darkling, like whatever is newly- begotten, but growing afterwards by the labor of the mind and by nutrition. It will become gradually or- ganized, full-grown, and complete; as soon as its con- stitution is strong enough to emerge from the under- standing, it will seek the birth of words, in order to un- fold to the world the treasures of truth and life which it contains within it. But if it be only examined obliquely, under an inci- dental or restricted aspect, the result will be a conception analogous to the connection which produces it, and con- sequently an idea of the object, possessing perhaps some truth and some life, but representing the object only in one phase, only in part, and thus leading to a narrow and inadequate knowledge. It is clear that as it is in the physical, so in the moral CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT 103 world. Knowledge is formed by the same laws as ex- istence, the knowledge of metaphysical like that of sen- sible things, although these differ essentially in their na- ture and in their limits. The laws by which life is transmitted are those by which thought is transmitted, which is, after its own fashion, conceived and generated ; a fact arising from the application to the production of all living beings of the eternal law of the Divine gen- eration, by which the Being of beings, the Principle of life. Who is life itself, engenders in Himself His image or His Word, by the knowledge which he has eternally of Himself, and by the love of His own perfection which he contemplates. Thus with the human mind, which is made in the image of God, and which reproduces a likeness of it in all its operations ; the knowledge of a human mind is also a sort of generation.' It has no knowledge of sen- sible things, except through the images which they pro- duce in the understanding, and that such images should arise, it is requisite that the understanding be pene- trated by the impressions of objects, through the senses and their organs. Hence appearances, images, ideas, or to speak more philosophically, conceptions of exterior things, which are not only the raw material of knowl- edge, but the principles more or less pregnant of the sciences of nature, according as they may have been formed in the mind. This accounts in part for the power of first impressions, the virtue of the first aspect, or of the primary meeting of the "subject" and object. Now we have intelligible and spiritual, as well as ma- terial and sensible, existences around us. We live by our mind and by its intercourse with that of our fellow creatures in a moral world, which is realized and per- petuated by speech and in language, as physical exist- 104 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT enees are fixed in the soil, and from the soil developed. The language spoken by a human community, and con- stituting the depository, the magazine of the thoughts, ideas, £ind knowledge of that community, forms a true world of minds, a sphere of intellectual existences, hav- ing its own life, light, and laws. Now it is with these subtile and, as it were, ethereal existences, which are condensed in words, like vapor in clouds — ^it is with these metaphysical realities that our mind must come into contact, in order by them to be fecundated, without other medium than the signs which express them, and in order to conceive the ideas which science has to develop by analysis, and which the speaker will unfold in his discourse, so as to bring home their truth to those who are ignorant of it. Anybody must feel how dif&eult it is to hold communion by the sight of the mind with things so delicate, so evanescent, things which cannot be seized except by their nebulous and ever shifting dress of language ; and how much more difficult it is to persist long in this contemplation, and how soon the intelligence gets fatigued of pursuing ob- jects so scarcely tangible, objects escaping its grasp on all sides. In truth it is only a very rare and choice class of minds which know how to look directly, fixedly, and perseveringly at objects of pure intelligibility. For the same reason these have greater fecundity, because enter- ing into a close union with the objects of their thought, and becoming thoroughly penetrated by them, they take in the very nature and vitality of things, with the light which they emit. These are the minds, moreover, that conceive ideas and think for the rest of mankind whose torches and guides they are in the intellectual world; and as their words, the vehicle of their conceptions and thoughts, are em- CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT 105 ployed during instruction in reproducing, that is, in engendering within the minds of their fellow-creatures the ideas which the light of the things themselves has produced in their own, they are called men of gerdus, that is, generators hy intelligence, or transmitters by means of language, of the light and life of the mind. This consideration brings us to the second way or method by which feebler intellects, or such as have talent without having genius, may also succeed in conceiving the idea of the subject upon which they are about to speak. CHAPTER XI CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT — ^INDIKECT METHOD Those who have to treat a subject which has not been treated before are obliged to draw from a consideration of the subject, and from their own resources, all they have to say. Then, according to their genius and their penetration, and in proportion to the manner in which they put themselves in presence of the things, will their discourse evince more or less truth, exactitude, and depth. They are sure to be original, since they are the first comers — and, in general, the first view, which is not influenced by any prejudice or bias, but which arises from the natural impression of the object upon the soul, produces clear and profound ideas, which remain in the kingdom of science or of art as common property, and a sort of patrimony for those who come later. Afterwards, when the way is opened, and many have trodden it, leaving their traces behind them, when a subject has been discussed at various times and among several circles, it is hard to be original, in the strict sense, upon that topic ; that is, to have new thoughts — thoughts not expressed be- fore. But it is both possible and incumbent to have that other species of originality, which consists in putting forth no ideas except such as one has made one's own by a conception of one's own, and are thus quickened with the life of one's own miud. This is called taking pos- session in the finder's name; and Moliere, when he imi- tated Plautus and Terence ; La Fontaine, when he bor- 106 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT 107 rowed from ^sop and PhEedms, were not ashamed of the practice. This condition is indispensable, if life is to he imparted to the discourse ; and it is this which dis- tinguishes the orator, who draws on his own interior re- sources even when he borrows, from the actor who imper- sonates, or the reader who recites the productions of another. In such a case the problem stands therefore: — "When you have to speak on a subject already treated by several authors, you must carefully cull their justest and most striking thoughts, analyze and sift these with critical dis- cernment and penetration, then fuse them in your own alembic by a powerful synthetic operation, which, re- jecting whatever is heterogeneous, collects and kneads whatever is homogeneous or amalgamable, and fashions forth a complex idea that shall assume consistency, unity, and color in the understanding by the very heat of the miad's labor. If we may compare things spiritual with things ma- terial — and we always may, since they are governed by the same laws, and hence their analogy — we would say that, in the formation of an idea by this method, some- thing occurs similar to what is observed in the produc- tion of the ceramic or modeler's art, composed of various elements, earths, salts, metals, alkalies, acids, and the rest, which, when suitably separated, sifted, purified, are first united into one compound, then kneaded, shaped, molded, or turned, and finally subjected to the action of the fire which combines them in unity, and gives to the whole solidity and splendor. Thus, the orator who speaks after many others, and must treat the same topic, ought first to endeavor to make himself acquainted with all that has been written on the subject, in order to extract from the mass the 108 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT thoughts which best serve his end ; he ought then to col- lect and fuse within his own thought the lights emitted by other minds, gather and converge upon a single point the rays of those various luminaries. He cannot shirk this labor, if he would treat his sub- ject with fullness and profundity; in a word, if he is in earnest with his business, which is to seek truth, and to make it known. Like every true artist, he has an in- tuition of the ideal, and to that ideal he is impelled by the divine instinct of his intelligence to lift his con- ceptions and his thoughts, in order to produce, first in himself and then upon others, by speaking or by what- ever is his vehicle of expression, something which shall forever tend towards it, without ever attaining it. For ideas, properly so called, being the very conceptions of the Supreme Mind, the eternal archetypes after which all created things have been modeled with all their powers, the human mind, made after the image of the Creator, yet always finite, whatever its force or its light, can catch but glimpses of them here below, and will always be incapable of conceiving and of reproducing them in their immensity and infinitude. However, care must be taken here not to allow oneself to be carried away by too soaring a train of considera- tions, or into too vast a field ; all is linked with all, and ia things of a higher world this is more especially the case, for there you are in the realm of sovereign unity, and universality. A, philosopher, meditating and writing, may give wings to his contemplation, and his flight will never be too lofty nor too vigorous, provided his intelli- gence be illumined with the true light, and guided in the right path; but the speaker generally stands before an audience who are not on his own level, and whom he must take at theirs. Again, he speaks in a given state CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT 109 of things, with a view to some immediate effect, some definite end. His topic is restricted by these conditions, and his manner of treating it must be subordinated to them, his discourse adapted to them. It is no business of his to say all that might be said, but merely what is necessary or useful in the actual ease, in order to en- lighten his hearers, and to persuade them. He must, therefore, circumscribe his matter withiu the limits of his purpose; and his discourse must have just that ex- tent, that elevation, and discretion which the special cir- cumstances demand. It is with this aim that the orator ought to prepare his materials, and lay in, as it were, the provisions for his discourse. First, as we have said, he must collect the ingredients of his compost. Then he will do what the bee does, which rifles the flowers — exactly what the bee does ; for, by an admirable instinct which never misleads it, it ex- tracts from the cup of the flowers only what serves to form the wax and the honey, the aromatic and the oleaginous particles. But, be it well observed, the bee first nourishes itself with these extracts, digests them, transmutes them, and turns them into wax and honey solely by an operation of absorption and assimilation. Just so should the speaker do. Before him lie the fields of science and of literature, rich in each description of flower and fruit — every hue, every flavor. In these fields he will seek his booty, but with discernment; and choosing only what suits his work, he will extract from it, by thoughtful reading and by the process of mental tasting (his thoughts all absorbed in his topic, and dart- ing at once upon whatever relates to it), everything which can minister nutriment to his intelligence, or fill it, or even perfume it ; in a word, the substantial or aro- 110 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT matic elements of his honey, or idea, but ever so as to take in and to digest, like the bee, in order that there may be a real transformation and appropriation, and consequently a production fraught with life, and to live. The way in which he should set to work, or at least the way in which we have ourselves proceeded under similar circumstances, and with good results, is this. [We hope we shall be forgiven for these details of the interior, these private managements of an orator: we think them more useful to show how to contrive than the didactics of teaching would be ; they are the contrivances of the craft, secrets of the workshop. Besides, we are not writing for adepts, but for novices; and these will be better helped by practical advice, and by the results of positive experience, than by general rules or by specu- lations.] Above all, then, you must decide with the utmost clearness what it is you are going to speak upon. Many orators are too vague in this; and it is an original vice which makes itself felt in their whole labor, and, later, in their audience. Nothing is worse than vagueness in a discourse; it produces obscurity, diffuseness, rigmarole, and wearisomeness. The hearer does not cling to a speaker who talks without knowing what he would say, and who, undertaking to guide him, seems to be ignorant whither he is going. The topic once well settled, the point to be treated once well defined, you know where to go for help. You ask for the most approved writers on that point; you get together their works, and begin to read them with attention, pausing, above all, upon the chapters and passages which specially concern the matter in question. Always read pen or pencil in hand. Mark the parts which most strike you, those in which you perceive the CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT 111 germ of an idea or of anything new to you ; then, when you have finished your reading, make a note, let it be a substantial note, not a mere transcription or extract — a note embodying the very thought which you have appre- hended, and which you have already made your own by digestion and assimilation. Above all, let these notes be short and lucid ; put them down one under the other, so that you may afterwards be able to run over them at a single view. Mistrust long readings from which you carry nothing away. Our mind is naturally so lazy, the labor of thought is so irksome to it, that it gladly yields to the pleasure of reading other people's thoughts, in order to avoid the trouble of forming any itself; and then time passes in endless readings, the pretext of which is some hunt after materials, and which comes to nothing. The mind ruins its own sap, and gets burdened with trash: it is as though overladen with undigested food, which gives it neither force nor light. Quit not a book until you have wrested from it what- ever relates the most closely to your subject. Not till then go on to another, and get the cream off, if I may so express myself, in the same manner. Repeat this labor with several, until you find that the same things are beginning to return, or nearly so, and that there is nothing to gain in the plunder ; or suppose that you feel your understanding to be sufficiently fur- nished, and that your mind now requires to digest the nutriment which it has taken. Eest awhile, in order to let the intellectual digestion operate. Then, when these various aliments begin to be transformed, interpenetrated, comes the labor of the desk, which will extract from the mass of nourishment its very juices, distribute them everywhere, and will con- 112 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT tribute to form, from diversity of products, unity of life. It is with the mind as with the body; after nourish- ment and repose, it requires to act and to transmit. When it has repaired its strength, it must exert it ; when it has receiyed it, it must give ; after having concentrated itself, it needs dilation; it must yield back what it has absorbed ; fullness unrelieved is as painful to it as inani- tion. These are the two vital movements — attraction and expansion. The moment this fullness is felt, the moment of acting or thinking for yourself has arrived. You take up your notes and you carefully re-read them face to face with the topic to be treated. You blot out such as diverge from it too much, or are not suf- ficiently substantial, and by this elimination you gradu- ally concentrate and compress the thoughts which have the greatest reciprocal bearing. You work these a longer or a shorter time in your understanding, as in a crucible, by the inner fire of reflection, and, in nine cases out of ten, they end by amalgamating and fusing into one an- other, until they form a homogeneous mass, which is re- duced, like the metallic particles in incandescence, by the persistent hammering of thought into a dense and solid oneness. As soon as you become conscious of this unity, you obtain a glimpse of the essential idea of the composition, and in that essential idea, the leading ideas which will distribute your topic, and which already appear like the first organic lineaments of the discourse. In the ease supposed, the idea forms itself syntheti- cally, or by a sort of intellectual coagulation, which is fraught with life, because there is really a crossing or interpenetration of various thoughts in one single mind, CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT 113 which has assimilated them to one another only by first assimilating them to itself. They take life in its life which unifies them, and although the idea be thus com- pounded of a multiplicity of elements, nevertheless as these elements have been transformed into that one mind's own thought, they become harmonized therein, and constitute a new production endowed by the under- standing in which it is called forth, with something in- dividualizing and original. However, a different result sometimes occurs, and this happens particularly in the most stirring and fertile in- tellects. The perusal of other men's thoughts, and the meditation thus excited, becomes for them not the ef- ficient cause, but the occasion, of the requisite idea, which springs into birth by a sudden illumination, in the midst of their mental labor over other people's ideas, as the spark darts from the flint when stricken by steel. It is a mixed method between the direct, which is that of nature, and the indirect which we have been describ- ing. It partakes of the former, because there is in it a kind of generation of the idea which is instantaneously effected; but it is a generation less instinct with life, and, as it were, at second hand ; for it is not formed in the mind by the action of the thing itself, but by its image or reflection in a human expression. It partakes of the second method, because the birth of the idea is brought about by reading and meditation. The idea which is its offspring, though inferior to that engendered by the object itself, is more natural, and, therefore, more living than that produced by synthesis; simpler, more one, more original ; it is more racy of the mind, which has conceived it at one effort, and from which it springs full of life, as Minerva in the fable sprang full-armed from the head of Jupiter cleft by Vul- 114 CONCEPTION OF THE SUBJECT can's hatchet. Thus it is with the orator's understand- ing, which is suddenly opened by a thought that strikes it, and from which arises completely organized the idea of his topic to become the Minerva or wisdom of his discourse. In this case the plan of his composition arranges itself spontaneously. The parent idea takes the place of sovereignty at once, by right of birth, and all the others group themselves around her, and to her subordinate themselves naturally, in order to cooperate ia better displaying her and doing her honor, as bees around the queen bee to work under her direction at the common task, or as, in revolutions and the emergencies which end them, nations instinctively rally about the man of Providence, raised up by the Almighty to reestab- lish order, equity, and peace. CHAPTER XII THE FORMATION AISTD THE ABEANGEMENT OP IDEAS The idea is formed either through the fecundation of the understanding by the object which there engenders its image and deposits its life, or by the bringing to- gether of various elements transformed and made one by the absorbing and reflecting operations of the mind; or else by a mixed process which partakes of both these, and which we just now described. In aR three cases, however, at the first moment of con- ception, there is as yet only a shapeless and vague product which floats, so to say, upon the waters of the understanding, and over which broods the spirit of life which has indeed animated it, but which has still to de- velop and to organize it, to establish it in a definite state of existence, and to give it an individuality^ by means of words and in the discourse. It is the germ fecundated in the parent soil, but which cannot yet spring forth without danger, for want of the necessary organization to live and take its place in the world to which it is destined to belong. Therefore, a period of incubation and organogenesis is indispensable to it under pain of its abortion, and the loss of its life. This is precisely the speaker's case; he has conceived I "A local habitation and a name." There is throughout the whole of these passages a striking analogy between the thoughts of Shakespeare, as th^ are hinted in his brief picture of the poet, and those which M. Bautain, applying them to the orator, more philosophically analyzes and more fully develops. 115 116 FORMATION OF IDEAS Ms idea, and he bears it within the entrails of his under- standing. He must not commit it to the day until it is able to appear with the conditions of vitality, that is to say, before it is organized in all its parts, in order that it may properly perform its functions in the world which it is to enter — ^neglect this, and you will have an abortive discourse, words without life. Sometimes the idea thus conceived is developed and formed rapidly, and then the plan of the discourse ar- ranges itself on a sudden, and you throw it upon paper warm with the fervor of the conception which has just taken place, as the metal in a state of fusion is poured into the mold, and fills at a single turn all its lineaments. It is the case most favorable to eloquence — ^that is, if the idea has been well conceived, and if it be fraught with light. But in general, one must not be in a hurry to form one's plan. In nature, life always needs a definite time for self-organization — and it is only ephemeral beings which are quickly formed, for they quickly pass away. Everything destined to be durable is of slow growth, and both the solidity and the strength of existing things bear a direct ratio to the length of their increase and the ma- tureness of their production. When, therefore, you have conceived an idea, unless it be perfectly clear to you at the first glance, be in no haste to throw it into shape. Carry it for a time in your mind, as the mother carries her offspring, and during this period of gestation (or bearing), by the very fact that the germ lives in your understanding, and lives with its life, it will of itself tend towards development and completion. By means of the spiritual, the mental incubation of meditation, it will pass from the egg to the embryo, and when sufficiently mature to be trusted to the FORMATION OP IDEAS 117 light of day, it will spontaneously strive to break from confinement, and to issue forth to view — then comes the moment for writing. The organic generation of ideas is as impossible to ex- plain fully as that of bodies. Nature's work is mys- terious in the one respect as in the other ; only there be- ing a part for freewill and conscience to play in the in- tellectual sphere, we see a little more clearly in this than in the other, and cooperate a little more directly. The understanding, in fact, is a spiritual soil which has feeling, consciousness, and up to a certain point, a knowledge of whatever is taking place in it. "We cannot conceive an idea without being conscious of it; for the very property of a mental conception is the formation within us of a new knowledge ; and thus we are not left, in this respect, as in the physical order, to the operation of the blind force of nature. The mother of the Macca- bees said to her children — "I know not how you were formed . . . nor how the life you have received was created;" now, the understanding, which is the mother of the ideas engendered by it and living in it, has the privilege not only of feeling but of seeing their forma- tion; otherwise it would not be understanding. It as- sists at the development of its ideas, and cooperates therein, actively and intelligently, by the functions of thought and reflection, by meditation and mental toil. Such is the difference between physical and moral nature, between the life of the body and that of the mind, be- tween the action of animate matter and that of intelli- gence. The thoughts apply themselves to a frequent considera- tion of the idea conceived ; they turn it and re-turn it in every direction, look at it in all its aspects, place it in all manner of relations ; then they penetrate it with their 118 FOEMATION OF IDEAS light, scrutinize its foundation, and examine its prin- cipal parts in succession; these begin to come out, to separate themselves from each other, to assume sharp outlines, just as in the bud the first rudimentary traces of the flower are discernible; then the other organic lines, appearing one after the other, instinct with life, or like the confused, first animate form, which, lit- tle by little, declares itself in all the finish of its pro- portions. In like manner, the idea, in the successive stages of its formation, shows itself each day in fuller development to the mind which bears it, and which ac- quires assurance of its progress by persevering medita- tion. There are frequently good ideas which perish in a man's understanding, abortively, whether for want of nourishment, or from the debility of the mind which, through levity, indolence, or giddiness, fails to devote a sufficient amount of reflection to what it has conceived. It is even observable that those who conceive with the greatest quickness and facility bring forth, generally, both in thoughts and in language, the weakest and the least durable productions; whether it be that they do not take time enough to mature what they have con- ceived — ^hurried into precocious display by the vivacity of their feelings and imagination — or on account of the impressionability and activity of their minds, which, ever yielding to fresh emotions, exhausting themselves in too rapid an alternation of revulsions, have not the strength for patient meditations, and allow the half- formed idea or the crude thought, born without life, to escape from the understanding. Much, then, is in our own power towards the ripening and perfecting of our ideas. Nevertheless, we must acknowledge and with humility FORMATION OF IDEAS 119 confess — even while conceding their full share in the result to reason and our own voluntary efforts — a share as undeniable in this case, and perhaps more undeniable, than in any other — that there is a great deal which is not within our power in the whole of this operation, and that a man's own proper part, or merit, in the matter is of very slight account, compared to the immense and gratuitous gifts on which he must rely. Who can give to genius, or even to talent, that marvelous understand- ing by which things are promptly and lucidly conceived — ^that fertile and sensitive mirror of ideas which re- sponds to the slightest objective impression, and so as- tonishingly reproduces all its types? Who can give them that powerful intelligence, whose piercing glance seizes every relation, discerns every shade, traverses the whole extent of ideas? That glow- ing imagination which invests each conception with bril- liant coloring — ^that unfailing and tenacious memory which preserves unimpaired all the features of it, and reproduces them at will, either separately or together, to assist the labor of thought and meditation ? Who can give them that vigorous attention, that strong grasp of the mind, which seizes with energy and holds with perseverance before the eye of the intelligence, the object to be considered and sounded; who gives them that patience of observation, which is itself a species of genius, especially in the study of Nature? All these rich endowments may, indeed, be developed by exercise and perfected by art; but neither exercise nor art can acquire them. And since in the order of in- telligence, and of science, as in the physical world, we see nothing without the light which illumines objects, whence do these select minds get that intellectual and immaterial light, which shines upon them more abun- 120 FORMATION OF IDEAS dantly than on others and enables them to discern in things and in the ideas of things what others see not? So that, according to the magnificent expression of the Royal Prophet they see the light in the light. Whence the lofty inspirations, the sudden flashings of genius, producing in it great and new ideas, so deeply and so mightily conceived, that they become by their radiation so many centers of light, so many torches of the human race? How is it that, in the presence of nature or of society, they experience such emotions and such impres- sions, that they see and understand what to others is all darkness and void ? We might as well ask why one soil is more fruitful than another, why the sun in a given climate is brighter, and his light more pure. The Almighty dispenses His treasures and His favors as He deems best, and this in the moral, no less than in the physical world. In this dispensation to nations or to individuals. He always has in view the manifestation of His truth. His power, and His mercy ; and wherever he kindles a larger share than usual of light and fire, wherever the magnitude of His gifts is specially remarkable, there has he chosen organs of His will, witnesses of His truth, heralds of His science, representatives of His glory, and benefactors of man- kind. In this is the true secret of those wonders of power, of virtue, and of genius who appear from time to time on earth. It is the Almighty who would make Himself known by His envoys, or would act by His instruments ; and the real glory and happiness of both the last, where they are intelligent and free beings, are to cooperate with their whole strength and their whole will towards the great coming of God's kingdom upon earth, and to- FORMATION OF IDEAS 121 wards the fullest possible realization of His eternal ideas. In this respect, the same thing is true of the works of man's mind in science, which is true of the acts of his wiU in the practice of beneficence. He cannot do a good action without wishing it, and he cannot wish it without the exercise of his liberty ; but the inspiration of good, which induces him to choose it, and gives him the strength to accomplish it, comes not from himself. It is a gratuitous gift from the sole Giver of all that is good. It is for this reason we are told that, of ourselves, we cannot form a good resolution, nor think a good thought, nor certainly perform a good action; and, nevertheless, we will, we choose, we act freely — for we are responsible. In like manner, we can effect nothing of ourselves in the conception and expression of our ideas. "We stand in need of the life of our understanding being perpetually renewed; of the life or the impression of objects, pene- trating it more or less deeply; of the light, which fertilizes, engenders, fosters; in fine, of the life which surrounds minds and spirits, as well as bodies — ^that moral atmosphere which calls forth, feeds, and develops whatever has motion therein. And amid all this, and along with it, is required the energetic cooperation of the spirit or mind itself, which feels, conceives, thinks, and without which nothing human can be accomplished. Thus, then, in the order of speculation and for our mental productions, as in the moral order, and for the accomplishment of our actions, while maintainiug our freewill, while exercising to the full the activity of our intelligences, which have their own rights, lot, and part, let us lean above all upon Him who has in Him life it- self, who enlightens minds and fertilizes or enriches 122 FORMATION OF IDEAS them, just as he impresses and guides hearts, and Whose virtue, in imparting itself to men, becomes the source of perfect gifts, of luminous conceptions, of great ideas, as well as of good inspirations, holy resolves, and virtuous actions. CHAPTER XIII ARRANGEMENT OF THE PLAN Everything in nature comes in its own time and at the predetermined instant. The fruit drops its seed when it is ripe and fit for reproduction, and the child is bom when the hour has arrived, and when the new being is sufSciently organized to live. It is thus with the mental production which the orator bears in his understanding. There is a moment when the idea tends to issue forth from its obscure retreat, in order to alight in the world of day, appear in the face of the sun, and there unfold itself. Only this much difference there is, that the latter pro- duction, being intellectual, depends to a certain degree upon the freedom of the mind; that, consequently, the moment of birth is not, in it, predestinary or necessary, as in the physical order, and thus the will of the author may hasten or delay it often to the injury of the produc- tion and of its development. Premature expression (that is, when you seek to reduce to plan an idea which is not ripe, and the organization of which is still vague) may lead to a failure, or at least to a disappointing off- shoot, incapable of life, or capable of only a sickly life — a fate which often befalls youthful authors too eager to produce. But, on the other side, too much delay in the composi- tion of the plan, when the idea is ready and demands ex- pression, is equally prejudicial to the work, which may 123 124 ARRANGEMENT OP PLAN wither, perish, and be even stifled in the understanding, for want of that air and light which have become indis- pensable to its life, and which it can derive only from being set in the open day. There are men who experience the greatest difficulty imaginable in bringing forth their thoughts, either from a deficiency of the needful vigor to put them forward and invest them with a suitable form, or from a natural indolence which is incapable of continued efforts; like those plants which will never pierce the soil by their own unaided energy, and for which the spade must be used at the risk of destroying their tender shoots. This sluggishness, or rather incapability of producing when the time is come, is a sign of mental feebleness, of a species of impotency. It invariably betokens some signal defect in the intellectual constitution, and those who are afflicted with it will write little, will write that little with difficulty, and will never be able to speak extempo- raneously in public; they will never be orators. ^Nevertheless, even in him who is capable of becoming one, there is sometimes a certain inertness and laziness. We have naturally a horror of labor, and of all kinds the labor of thought is the hardest and the most trouble- some; so that frequently, for no other reason than to avoid the pain which must be undergone, a person long keeps in his own head an idea, already perfectly ripe and requiring only to be put forth. He cannot bring him- self to take up the pen and put his plan into shape ; he procrastinates, day after day, under the futile pretext of not having read enough, not having reflected enough, and that the moment is not yet come, and that the work will gain by more prolonged studies. Then, by this un- seasonable delay, the fruit languishes in the understand- ing from want of nourishment; falls by degrees into ARRANGEMENT OF PLAN 125 atrophy, loses its vital force, and dies before it is yet born. Many an excellent idea thus perishes in the germ, or is stifled in its development by the laziness or the de- bility of the minds which have conceived them, and which have been impotent to give them forth. The Almighty's gift is lost through man's fault. This happens to men otherwise distinguished and gifted with rare qualities, but who dread the responsibilities of duty and the pressure of the circumstances in which they may become involved. Under pretext of preserving their freedom, but really in order to indulge their indolence, they shun the necessity of labor, with its demands and its fatigues, and thus deprive themselves of the most active stimulus of intellectual life. Given up to them- selves, and fearing every external influence as a bondage, they pass their lives in conceiving without ever pro- ducing — in reading without contributing anything of their own — ^in reflecting, or rather in ruminating, with- out ever either writing or speaking publicly. It would have been happy for such men to have been obliged to work for a living; for, in the spur of want their mind would have found a spring which it has missed, and the necessity of subsisting by labor, or positive hunger, would have effected in them what the love of truth or of glory was not able to accomplish. The very best thing for him who has received the gift of eloquence, and who could make an orator, is, there- fore, that he should be compelled to become one. The labor of eloquence, and the labor of thinking which it presupposes, cost so much trouble and are so difficult, that save some choice characters, impelled by their genius or by ambition, nothing short of some downright necessity physical or moral, is requisite to drive men to undertake them. 126 ARRANGEMENT OP PLAN But if a man is a professor, and must deliver his lec- ture or instructions on some fixed day, and at an ap- pointed hour — or a clergyman, and is obliged to mount the pulpit at such or such a moment ; or a barrister, who has to address the court at the time fixed by the judges ; or member of some council or deliberative assembly, un- der an engagement to speak in a certain business, then, indeed, a man must be ready, on pain of failing in his duty, or of compromising his position, his reputation. On such occasions, an effort is made, laziness is shaken off, and a man strives in earnest either to fathom the question (and this is never done so well as when it is necessary to write or to speak thereon), or else to form a clearer notion of it, or, in short, to prepare the best exposition of it, with, a view to producing conviction and persuasion. In this respect, we may say in the words of the Gospel, "Blessed are the poor." Penury or want is the keenest spur of the mind and of the will. You are forced to bestir yourself and to draw on your inventive resources, and in youth especially, which is the most favorable time for securing instruction and acquire- ments, it is a great happiness to be plucked away by necessity from the enticement of pleasure, the dissipa- tions of the world, the inactivity of supineness. There needs nothing short of this kind of compulsion, and of the fear which it inspires, to recall to refiection, medita- tion, and the persevering exercise of thought, a soul drawn outward by all the senses, athirst for enjoyment, and carried away by the superabundance of life (which at that age is overflowing) into the external world, there to seek for that nourishment and happiness which it wiU not there find. Our own entire youth was passed in that violent state, that unceasing conflict between the instinct of nature and the duty of toil. For this we know what ARRANGEMENT OF PLAN 127 it costs to achieve the triumph, and what most tends to ensure it. How ought your plan to be arranged ? In order to produce or arrange it well, you must take your pen in hand. Writing is a whetstone, or flattening engine, which wonderfully stretches ideas, and brings out all their malleableness and ductility. On some unforeseen occasion you may, without doubt, after a few moments of reflection, array suddenly the plan of your discourse, and speak appropriately and elo- quently. This presupposes, in other respects, that you are well versed in your subject, and that you have in your understanding chains of thought formed by pre- vious meditations ; for it is impossible to extemporize the thoughts, at least during the whole of a discourse. But if you have time for preparation, never under- take to speak without having put on paper the frame of what you have to say, the links of your ideas; and this for two reasons: — the first and weightiest is, that you thus possess your subject better, and accordingly you speak more closely and with less risk of digressions. The second is, that when you write down a thought you analyze it. The division of the subject becomes clear, becomes determinate, and a crowd of things which were not before perceived present themselves under the pen. Speaking is thinking aloud, but it is more ; it is thiak- ing with method and more distinctly, so that in uttering your idea you not only make others understand it, but you understand it better yourself while spreading it out before your own eyes and unfolding it by words. "Writing adds more still to speech, giving it more precision, more fixity, more strictness, and by being forced more closely to examine what you wish to write down you extract hidden relations, you reach greater 128 ARRANGEMENT OF PLAN depths, wherein may be disclosed rich veins or abundant lodes. "We are able to declare that one is never fully con- scious of all that is in one's own thought, except after having written it out. So long as it remains shut up in the inside of the mind, it preserves a certain haziness; one does not see it completely unfolded ; and one cannot consider it on all sides, in each of its facets, in each of its bearings. Again, while it merely flies through the air in words, it retains something vague, mobile, and indefinite. Its out- lines are loosely drawn, its shape is uncertain, the ex- pression of it is more or less precarious, and there is al- ways something to be added or withdrawn. It is never more than a sketch. Style only gives to thought its just expression, its finished form, and perfect manifesta- tion. Nevertheless, beware of introducing style into the ar- rangement of your plan; it ought to be like an artist's draught, the sketch, which, by a few lines unintelligible to everybody save him who has traced them, decides what is to enter into the composition of the picture, and each object's place. Light and shadow, coloring and expres- sion, will come later.. Or, to take another image, the plan is a skeleton, the dry bone-frame of the body, re- pulsive to all except the adept in anatomy, but full of interest, of meaning, and of significance for him who has studied it and who has practiced dissection; for there is not a cartilage, a protuberance, or a hollow, which does not mark what that structure ought to sustain — and therefore you have here the whole body in epitome, the entire organization in miniature. Hence, the moment you feel that your idea is mature, and that you are master of it in its center and ia its ARRANGEMENT OF PLAN 129 radiations, its main or trunk lines, take the pen and throw upon paper what you see, what you conceive in your mind. If you are young or a novice, allow the pen to have its way and the current of thought to flow on. There is always life in this first rush, and care should be taken not to cheek its impetus or cool its ardor. Let the volcanic lava run ; it will become fixed and crystalline of itself. Make your plan at the first heat, if you be impelled to do so, and follow your inspiration to the end; after which let things alone for a few days, or at least for sev- eral hours. Then re-read attentively what you have written, and give a new form to your plan; that is, re- write it from one end to the other, leaving only what is necessary, what is essential. Eliminate inexorably what- ever is accessory or superfluous, and trace, engrave with care the leading characteristics which determine the con- figuration of the discourse, and contain within their de- marcations the parts which are to compass it. Only take pains to have the principal features well marked, vividly brought out, and strongly connected together, in order that the division of the discourse may be clear and the links firmly welded. CHAPTER XIV CHAEACTEB OF THE PLAN The essential properties of the plan are derivable from its very nature. As it is the design of the oratorical building, it ought to be drawn with neatness, distributed suitably into its compartments, in right proportions, so that at one glance the architect, or any sensible person versed in this Mnd of work, should perceive the aim of the construction or the idea to be realized, as weU as the means for attaining it. The plan is a failure if it does not suggest to the understanding observer these things. First. — The drawing depends on the mind, which con- ceives and thinks, and on the hand, which wields the pen- cil. A design will always bear a sure ratio to the manner of feeling, conceiving, and reproducing what is seen in nature or what is imagined, and whatever may be the dexterity of the hand, if the soul animate it not, if the understanding guide it not, it will compose nothing but images without life, and copies, exact possibly, yet void of expression. By the simplest touch, by one stroke of the brush, the whole soul may be revealed ; witness that great painter who recognized his equal from a single line traced by him. Now what advice can we give on this head ? AU the precepts in the world will never teach feeling or concep- tion. We have said pretty nearly all that can be said, when speaking of the conception and formation of ideas. But what may indeed be recommended to the inexpe- 130 CHARACTER OF THE PLAN 131 rieneed orator is to confine himself in constructing his plan to the salient features of his subject, to lay down boldly the trunk lines of the discourse, omitting all filling up ; to draw broadly, with hatchet-strokes, so to say, and not to set about punctuating, not to get lost in minutiae, when the business is to mark out the main ways. Another advice which may be given is, to leave nothing obscure, doubtful, or vague in these outlines, and to ad- mit no feature into his sketch which does not indicate something of importance. By practice and the direc- tions of a skillful master, he will learn to deal in those potent pencilings which express so much in so small a space ; and this it is which makes extemporization so easy and so copious, because each point of the plan becomes instinct with life, and by pressing upon it as you pass along your discourse makes it a spring gushing with luminous ideas and inexhaustible expressions. The first etchings of the great masters are sometimes more precious in the artist's eye than their finished pic- tures, because they disclose the author's thoughts more unveiled, and the means he has adopted for conveying them. And in like manner the young writer will profit- ably study the plans of great speakers, in order to learn how to model as they did ; and what will be still more im- proving, he will construct those plans himself from their discourses, and by a deep meditation of their master- pieces and the intellectual labor which the construc- tion just hinted demands, he will get further into their innermost thoughts, and will better appreciate the rela- tion between those thoughts and the magnificent embodi- ment of them. Second. — The right distribution of your plan de- pends also on your manner of conceiving your subject and the end you have in view in your discourse; nor 132 CHARACTER OF THE PLAN have general rules much practical range even here. What is required are, good sense, sagacity and tact; good sense to see things as they are, in their true light, or in their most favorable aspect, so as not to say what will not befit the occasion; sagacity, to turn the subject over, penetrate it through, analyze it, anatomize it, and exhibit it, first on paper, then in speaking ; tact, to speak appropriately, leave in the shade whatever cannot ap- pear without disadvantage, and bring out into strong light whatever is most in your favor; to put everything in its own place, and to do all this quickly, with neatness, clearness, simplicity, so that in the very knot of the state- ment of the case may be discerned all the folds and coils of the main idea about to be untied and laid forth by the discourse. An ill-conceived, an ill-divided plan, which does not at once land the hearer right in the middle of the subject and in full possession of the matter, is rather an en- cumbrance than a help. It is a rickety scaffolding which will bear nothing. It but loads and disfigures the build- ing instead of serving to raise it. Third. — Proportion and harmony in its parts con- tribute to the beauty of a discourse. In all things beauty is the result of variety in unity and of unity in variety. It is the necessity of oneness which assigns to each part its rank, place, and dimensions. Frequently the exordium is too long, and the perora- tion interminable. There is little or nothing left for the middle; and you get a monster with an enormous head, a measureless tail, and a diminutive body. At other times it is some limb of the discourse which is lengthened until the body of the work is out of sight, the result being a shocking deformity, as when a man has long arms or legs with a dwarf's body. The main idea ought CHARACTER OP THE PLAN 133 to come out in each part ; the hearer ought to be always led back to it by the development of the accessory thoughts, however numerous, these having no regular vitality save by the sustained circulation through them of the former. Should they grow and dilate too much, it can only be at the cost of the parent-idea ; and they must produce deformity and a sort of disease iu the discourse, like those monstrous excrescences which devour the ani- mal as when there is any irregular or excessive growth of one organ, through the abnormal congestion of the blood, thus withdrawn from the rest of the organization. It is chiefly when you have to extemporize that you must take the most care of your division, and of the nice allotment of all the parts of your plan ; one of the disad- vantages of extemporization, and perhaps the greatest disadvantage being, diffuseness, slowness, and digressive- ness, when you trust to the inspiration of the moment, excitement of speaking — for you cannot always com- mand the result amidst the mass of words and the dis- tractions of the imagination. You will obviate this danger, as far as may be, by strongly determining beforehand the proportion of the various parts; and this so clearly and so strikingly as never to lose sight of it while speaking, and thus to be constantly recalled to it, and to recall the hearer athwart the digressions, episodes, or sudden developments which may present themselves, and which are not always to be excluded; nay, sometimes amidst the emotions of sensi- bility or the transports of passion, into which by the torrent of extemporization the orator may be hurried. Let the plan of the speech, then, be traced with a firm hand, distributed with exactitude, and rightly propor- tioned in all its members, and then it will be an immense help to the speaker whom the suddenness and adventu- 134 CHARACTER OP THE PLAN rousness of extemporization invariably agitates more or less. He will then abandon himself with greater confi- dence to his inspirations and to the tide of words, when he feels a solid ground well known to him beneath his feet; and is aware of all its advantages and incon- veniences, if he remain always mindful of the end he has in view and of the way which leads to it. CHAPTER XV FINAL PEEPAEATION BEPOEE SPEAKING The plan of a discourse, however well put together, is still but a barren letter, or, as we have said, a species of skeleton to which flesh and vitality must be given by words. It is the discourse potentially, and has to become such actually. Now before passing from the power of acting to action, and with a view to effecting this pas- sage, which at the very moment of executing it is al- ways difiScult, there is a last preparation not without its importance and calculated to conduce largely towards success. Thus the soldier gets ready his weapons and his resolution before the fight; thus the general makes his concluding arrangements after having fixed on his order of battle, and in order to carry it well into effect. So it is with the speaker at that supreme instant. After having fixed his ideas upon paper in a clearly defined sketch which is to him a plan of the campaign, he ought, a little while before entering the lists or battle field, to recollect himself once more in order to gather up all his energies, call forth all the powers of his soul, mind, and body for the work which he has undertaken, and hold them in the spring and direction whither they have to rush. This is the culminating point of the preparation, a critical moment which is very agitating and very pain- ful to whoever is about to speak. We shall proceed to depict it, and to show what may then be done towards the success of a discourse, by the use of the speaker's en- 135 136 PEEPARATION tire means, that is, of all his intellectual, moral, and physical faculties. For the true orator speaks with his entire personality, with all the powers of his being, and for that reason, at the moment just preceding his ad- dress, he should summon, and marshal, and concentrate aU his instruments. CHAPTER XVI FINAL INTELLECTUAL PKEPAEATION The plan is written down, but it is outside the mind, it is on paper; and although it has issued from the mind, still the linking of ideas is a thing so subtile that it easily escapes, and especially in the midst of the turmoil in which the speaker must take his stand, and which is liable to present a thousand distracting contingencies. An hour, therefore, or half an hour, or a quarter of an hour before speaking, he ought at the last moment to go over his plan again silently, review all its parts with their connection, settle, in the most definite manner the main ideas and the order in which they occur ; in a word, deeply inscribe or engrave in his imagination what is written on the paper, so as to be able to read within himself, in his own understanding, and this with cer- tainty and without effort, the signs of what he has to say. Thi» is, as it were, the internal proof -copy of the external manuscript, in order that, without the help of notes, he may find the whole array of his ideas upon the Living tablets of his imagination. For this purpose, he sums up that array once again, and epitomizes it in a few words which perform the office at once of colors and of sign-posts- — colors around which are mustered fragmentary or incidental thoughts, like soldiers around their officer, and sign-posts indicating the road to be fol- lowed in order to reach the destination without fail. 137 138 FINAL PEEPARATION Finally, by one supreme exertion of thought, he connects all these signs together in order to take in them all at a single glance in their respective places and their mutual bearings, with a view to the end which the discourse is intended to attain; just as a general acts who, as the fight begins, looks from some height upon the ordering of his army and sees each division and regiment where he had appointed them to be. Then, after having pos- sessed himself of the whole by means of this glance, he holds it as it were in his grasp and can hurl it into action according to the plan which he has conceived. It is easy to understand that in order to be able to do this, the plan must not only have been well conceived and well ordered, but clearly written out on paper, so that, at a moment of such pressure, a single glance may suf- fice to review both as a whole and in its parts. In general, the shortest are the best plans, if they be well filled and loaded with ideas; and whenever it is practicable to reduce all the ideas to one, the various eon- sequences of which are thus derivatively commanded, nothing can be so convenient or so sure. This accounts for the fact that one may sometimes speak wonderfully well without so much preparation, and produce a very great effect. All that is required is one idea, of which the speaker is deeply convinced and the consequences and applications of which he clearly discerns, or else some lively and heart-stirring sentiment; and then the light of the idea or the emotion of the feel- ing bursts forth into words like the pent-up torrent of a reservoir through a fissure in the dam ; but the water-shed must have been full, and the plenteousness of the inunda- tion supposes protracted toil for the previous collection. It is thus with the most prompt and copious extemporiza- tions ; they are invariably the reservoir of ideas and feel- FINAL PEEPARATION 139 ings, prepared and accumulated with time, and rushing forth in a discourse. In all eases, what is of the first importance is to see all the ideas in a single idea, in order to keep up the unity of the subject, amidst variety of exposition and the multiplicity of representations; for in this consists the fine ordering of a speech. Once sure of the leading idea, the divisions and sub-divisions must be rapidly in- spected. You must proceed from one to the other re- flectively in order to test what they will be worth at the decisive instant, and to penetrate them by a last glance of the mind — a glance which is never more vigorous or more piercing than at that important moment. You must act like the general who passes among the ranks be- fore the signal is given, and who assures himself by the mien of his troops that they will behave well, while he excites their courage by words of fire, and pours fresh spirit and boldness into their hearts. He too has his picked troops on whom he relies more than on the rest, and these picked troops are to act at the crisis of the fight. He keeps them in reserve to decide the victory, and he is aware beforehand of all the power with which they furnish him. So, among the various thoughts which make up a dis- course; and in their array, there are some better cal- culated than the others to strike the imagination and to move the soul : some stirring picture, some unusually in- teresting narrative, some convincing proof, some motive which will carry away the hearer's decision; and the like. The orator, during his final preparation, distinguishes and places in reserve these resources. He arranges them appropriately so as to bring them in at such a part of his discourse ; and without fully fathoming them before it is time, he keeps them under his eye, well knowing that 140 FINAL PREPARATION here are wells of living water which shall gush forth when he desires it, at a touch of the sounding rod. Upon such means the success of a speech generally turns, as the winning of a battle upon a charge opportunely made. Only care must be taken not to confound these re- serves of idea, these well husbanded resources, with what are called hits of eloquence or effective phrases. These last devices which sometimes fling a brilliant radiance over a speech by a semblance of originality, by eccentric perceptions, by far-fetched approximations, and above all by strangeness of expression, run the risk almost invari- ably of sacrificing sense to sound, substance to form, and of superseding depth of thought and warmth of feeling by sound of words and an exaggerated oratorical de- livery. You get to aim at effect, that is, at astonishing your hearers and making them admire you; you there- fore use every means of dazzling and confounding them, which is nearly always done at the expense of your sub- ject's truthfulness and of your own dignity. Besides, as you cannot extemporize these effective phrases, be- cause the effect depends on a certain combiuation of words very difficult to arrange and spoilt if a single word be amiss, you have to compose these phrases before- hand, learn them by heart and know them literally ; and even then you have still to get them into your discourse and to prepare their admission, in order that they may make a brilliant appearance and produce the wished-for effect. The consequence is that you convey them from a greater or a smaller distance with more or less artifice and disguise, so that a part of the exposition is devoted to clearing the way for them, and to marshaling their entry on the boards — a process which necessarily en- tails fiUings-up, gaps, and lengthiness of various pas- FINAL PREPARATION 141 sages respectively. And, indeed, these brilliant hits which discharge a great amount of sparks, and a small amount of either light or heat, are for the most part pur- chased at the price of the truthfulness as well as the in- terest of the discourse. It is a fire-work display which dazzles and charms for a moment, only to plunge you in thick darkness again. This is not a genuine nor moving eloquence ; it is the parody of eloquence and a mere parade of words; if I may dare to say so, a sort of oratorical charlatanry. Woe to the speaker who makes use of such means! He will speedily exhaust himself by the mental efforts to find out new effects, and his addresses, aiming at the sublime and the extraordinary, will become often ludicrous, al- ways impotent. Nor must you rely on the notes which you may carry in your hand to help you in the exposition and save you from breaking down. Doubtless, they may have their utility, especially in business speaking, as at the bar, at the council board, or in a deliberative assembly. Sometimes they are even necessary to remember facts or to state figures. They are the material part, the bag- gage of the orator, and he should lighten them and disen- cumber himself of their burden, to the utmost of his power. In truth, on the very occasions when it should seem you would have most need of them, they are totally worthless. In the most fervid moments of extempo- raneous speaking, when light teems, and the sacred fire burns, when the mind is hurried along upon the tide of thoughts, and the tongue, obedient to its impulse, ac- commodates itself in a wonderful manner to its opera- tions and lavishes the treasures of expression, everything should proceed from within. The mind's glance is bent inwards, absorbed by the subject and its ideas; you dis- 142 PINAL PREPARATION tinguish. none of tHe external objects, and you can no longer even read your notes on the paper. You see the lines without understanding them, and they become an embarrassment instead of a help. Nothing so thoroughly freezes the oratorical flow as to consult those wretched notes. Nothing is so inimical to the prestige of elo- quence; it forthwith brings down to the common earth both the speaker and his audience. Try then, when you have to speak, to carry all things in yourself, like Bias the philosopher, and after having, to the best of your ability, conscientiously prepared, al- low yourself, filled with your subject, to be borne along by the current of your ideas and the tide of words, and above all by the Spirit from on High who enlightens and inspires. He who cannot speak except with notes, knows not how to speak, and knows not even what speaking is; just as the man of lore who is so only with his books around him, is not so truly, and knows not even what learning is. In fine, you must distrust all methods of nmemonics or artificial memory, intended to localize and to fagot together in your imagination the different parts of your address. Cicero and Quintilian recommend them, I think, in moderation ; be it so, but let it be in the strictest possible moderation. For it is putting the mechanism of form in the stead of the organization of thoughts — substi- tuting arbitrary and conventional links for the natural association of ideas; at the very least, it is introduciag into the head an apparatus of signs, forms, or images which are to serve as a support to the discourse, and which must needs burden, obscure, and hamper the march of it. If your address be the expression of an idea fraught with life, it will develop itself naturally, as plants FINAL PEBPARATION 143 germinate, as animals grow, through the sustained action of a vital force, by an incessant organic operation, by the effusion of a living principle. It ought to issue from the depths of the soul, as the stream from its spring — ex dbundantia cordis os loquitur, "out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh." But a heart there must be; and in that heart a full- ness of feeling, manifesting itself by a plenitude of ideas, which will give in its turn plenitude of expression. The mouth speaks with ease when the heart is full ; but if it is empty, the head takes its ofSce, and it is the head which has recourse to these artificial means, for want of the in- spiration which fails it. It is the resource of rhetori- cians. CHAPTER XVII FINAL MORAL PKEPAEATION When you at last are in possession of your plan, and have engraved it upon your understanding, in the man- ner we have just said, you must try to remain calm and collected. This is not always so easy, on account of the place where you have to speak, at the bar, for instance, or in a public scene, or a deliberative assembly. You are not in such cases free to choose your ovm moment, and you have to be ready for the occasion. You may have to wait long for your turn, and till then there occur unavoidable distractions, from which you must keep yourself safe. If the will reject them, the mind remains self-possessed, and may even preserve its collectedness amidst the most varied scenes, which indeed may touch the senses, without disturbing the mind. But if you have it in your power to remain in soli- tude until the moment for speaking, as generally hap- pens to the preacher and the lecturer, it is well to avoid all external excitement which might change the current of the thoughts, and drive your attention into another channel. You should then take refuge within the depth of yourself, as in a sanctuary where the Almighty has de- signed to manifest Himself since your object in speaMng is but to announce the truth, and the Almighty is Truth itself. I do not speak here of those men who discourse solely in the interests of passion or of party, and whose object 144 FINAL PREPARATION 145 is not the triumph of what is true, but merely the gain of some success, some advantage, conducive to their am- bition, their pride, or their avarice. These men will never be orators in the proper sense of the word — vir ionus dicendi peritios; for language ought not to be used except in the interests of truth — to employ it for any other end is to make of it a comLmodity or a traffic. If in the stage which we are depicting, the soul of him who is about to speak be liable to feel variously affected, according to the variety of character, predisposition, and momentary state, sometimes, after the final preparation is over, it perceives that it possesses its subject, that it is master of it, so far as this may be, and it then expe- riences a certain sense of security which is not without sweetness. A mind in this state need think no more of anything, but may remain passive and repose itself ere proceeding to action. It has sometimes happened to my- self to fall asleep while awaiting the summons to the pul- pit, to lose consciousness, at least, and to awake re- freshed. At other times, and indeed more frequently, a man is restless and agitated. The chest is weighted with a heavy burden which checks the breathing, makes the limbs sore, and oppresses all the faculties of mind and body. This is an extremely painful state, especially if a man has to speak on a grave occasion, on a solemn day, and in the Christian pulpit. One is conscious then that there is a divine duty to be discharged, and there is a fear of proving unfaithful or unequal to it; one feels the full weight of responsibility before God. It is a truly agonizing sensation, in which several feelings are blended, and which it may not be useless to analyze, in order to distinguish what it comprises that is legit- imate, that is advantageous to an orator, and, on the 146 FINAL PREPARATION contrary, what is amiss in it and liable to do him harm. In the first place, it is to be noted that this fright, experienced by him who is on the point of speaking, is salutary, at least to a certain extent. It is evident that if it goes to the length of paralyzing the orator, or of impairing the use of his means, it is inconvenient and fatal. But those whom it is able thus to crush will never be capable of speaking in public, as we have already observed in the case of two celebrated writers, admirable for their style and powerless in harangue. "Woe to him who experiences no fear before speaking in public! It shows him to be unconscious of the im- portance of the function which he is about to discharge — that he does not understand what truth is, whose apostle he himself should be, or that he little cares, and that he is not animated by that sacred fire which comes down from heaven to burn in the soul. I except alto- gether the Prophets, the Apostles of Jesus Christ, all who speak under supernatural inspiration, and who have been told that they must not prepare what they shall say when they shall stand before the powerful and the arbiters of the world, for that all they should say shall be given to them at the time itself. It is not for men like these that we write.' The Al- mighty, whose instruments they are, and who fills them with His Spirit, makes them act and speak as He pleases, and to them the resources of human experience are entirely unnecessary. They never are afraid, be- cause He who is truth and light is with them, and speaks by them. But others are not afraid because their en- lightenment is small and their self-assurance great. They are unconscious of the saeredness of their task and of their ministry, and they go forward like children who, knowing not what they do, play with some terrible FINAL PEBPARATION 147 weapon, and with danger itself. The most valiant troops always feel some emotion at the first cannon shot, and I have heard it stated that one of the most celebrated generals of the empire — ^who was even called "the brav- est of the brave," was always obliged to dismount from his horse at that solemn moment ; after which he rushed like a lion into the battle. Braggarts, on the contrary, are full of assurance before the engagement, and give way during the action. So is it with those fine talkers, who think themselves competent to undertake any subject and to face any audience, and who, in the excellent opinion which they entertain of themselves, do not even think of making any serious preparation. After a few phrases uttered with confidence, they hesitate, they break down, or if they have sufficient audacity to push forward amidst the confusion of their thoughts and the incoherency of their discourse, they twaddle without understanding their own words, and drench their audience with their inex- haustible volubility. It is well then to feel somewhat afraid ere speaking, first in order that you may not lightly expose yourself to the trial, and that you may be spared the mortifica- tion; and, in the second place, still more particularly, if you are obliged to speak, in order that you may ma- turely consider what you should say, seriously study your subject, penetrate it, become master of it, and thus be able to speak usefully to a public audience. The fear in question is also useful in making the speaker feel his want of help from above, such as shall give him the adequate light, strength, and vividness of life. All men who have experience in public speaking, and who have ever themselves been eloquent, know how much they have owed to the inspiration of the moment. 148 PINAL PREPARATION and to that mysterious power which gives it. It is pre- cisely because a man may have sometimes received this efficacy from above, rendering him superior to himself, that he dreads being reduced to his own strength in that critical situation, and so to prove beneath the task which he has to accomplish. This fear which agitates the soul of a person about to speak has also another and a less noble cause, which unfortunately prevails in the majority of instances ; that is, self-love — ^vanity, which dreads falling below oneself and below the expectations of men — a desire of success and of applause. Public speaking is a singularly con- spicuous sort of thing, exposing a person to all manner of observations. Doubtless there is no harm in seeking the esteem of one's fellows, and the love of a good repu- tation is an honorable motive of action, capable of pro- ducing excellent effects. But carried too far, it becomes a love of glory, a passion to make a dazzling appearance, and to cause oneself to become the theme of talk — and then, like all other passions, it is ready to sacrifice truth, justice, and good to its own gratification or success. Nothing can be better than that the orator should en- deavor to please and satisfy his audience; that desire will impel him to noble exertions and the exercise of all his means; but that, while actually speaking, such an end should engross him above everything else, and that the care of his own glory should agitate him more than any love of the truths which he has to announce, or of the souls of the hearers whom he should enlighten and edify — this, I say, is a gross abuse, a perversion of the talent and of the ministry intrusted to him by Provi- dence, and sooner or later will bring him to grief. This inordinate attention to himself and his success agitates, disturbs, and makes him unhappy — too often inciting FINAL PREPAEATION 149 him to exaggerations for the sake of effect. In taking from him simplicity it takes his right sense, his tact, his good taste, and he becomes displeasing by dint of striv- ing to please. Yet far from us be the idea of condemning a love of glory in the orator, and especially in the lay orator. While still young a man needs this spur, which some- times produces prodigies of talent and of labor; and it may safely be afSrmed that a very great progress must have been made in wisdom and perfection to dispense with it altogether. Even where it ought to have the least influence, it still too often has sway, and the min- ister of the holy "Word, who ought to be inspired by the Spirit from on High, and to refer exclusively to God all that he may do, has much difficulty in preserv- ing himself indifferent to the praises of men, seeking these praises only too often, and thus making self, al- most unconsciously, the end of his speaking and of his success. In such a case the movements of nature and of grace get mingled in his heart, and it is hard to dis- tinguish and separate them. This is the reason why so many deceive themselves, and why piety itself has its illusions. If it is good to entertain some fear before speaking, it would nevertheless be prejudicial to entertain too much: first, because a great fear disturbs the power of expression; and secondly, because if it does not proceed from timidity of character, it often springs from ex- cessive self-love, from too violent an attachment to praise, or from the passion of glory, which overcomes the love of truth. Here is that which one should try to combat and to abate in oneself. The real orator should have but what is true in view; he should blot himself out in presence of the truth and make it alone appear — 150 FINAL PEEPARATION as happens naturally, spontaneously, whenever he is pro- foundly impressed by it, and identifies himself with it, heart and mind. Then he grows like it, great, mighty, and dazzling. It is no longer he who lives, it is the truth which in him lives and acts ; his language is truly inspired; the man vanishes in the virtue of the Almighty who manifests himself by His organ — and this is the speaker's noblest, his true glory. Then are wrought the miracles of eloquence which turn men's wills and change their souls. Such is the end at which the Chris- tian orator should aim. He should try to dwarf him- self, to annihilate himself, as it were, in his discourse, in order to allow Him whose minister he is to speak and to work — a result oftenest attained when the speaker thinks he has done nothing on account of his too fervent and too natural desire to do a great deal. Oh, you who have taken the Lord for your inheritance, and who prefer the light and service of Heaven to all the honors and all the works of earth — ^you, particu- larly, who are called to the Apostleship, and who glow with the desire to announce to men the word of God! remember that here, more than anywhere else, virtue consists in disinterestedness, and power in abnegation of self. Endeavor to see in the triumphs of eloquence, if they be granted you one thing only — ^the glory of God. If you have the gift of touching the souls of others, seek one thing only — to bring them, or bring them back, to God. For this end repress, stifle within your heart, the natural movements of pride, which, since the days of sin, would attribute all things to itself, even the most manifest and the most precious gifts ; and each time that you have to convey to the people the Word of Heaven, ask urgently of God the grace to forget your- self, and to think of Him and of Him only. CHAPTER XVIII BODILT PEEPARATION The body also requires to be prepared in a certain man- ner before a harangue. It should be subjected to a sort of magnetism, as the phrase runs in these days; and the orator who knows the difficulties and the re- sources of his art will take very good care not to under- take a speech, unless he is compelled by circumstances to do so, without making his arrangements in this re- spect too. Let it not be forgotten that the body plays its part in all that we do, even in the most abstract thoughts and the most exquisite feelings. We are not angels, and the human soul can not act here below without the coopera- tion of the organization to which it is united, and which forms an essential part of its personality. The Ego, in truth, is applicable to the functions of the body no less than to those of the mind. A man says: "I walk, I eat, I digest," as he says, "I think, I wish, I love"; and although the organs have an inferior office in human actions, yet that office is sufficiently considerable for the organs to promote or to impede those actions in a signal manner. The body then should be well disposed in order that the intellectual and moral functions may be properly performed, and that they may not experi- ence a hindrance where they ought to find an assistance. In the first place, the general state of the health ought to be good, or at least tolerable, in order that the think- 151 152 BODILY PREPARATION ing power may enjoy instruments ready to receive its impulses, and the will be able easily to set them in mo- tion. A man speaks with difficulty when suffering. Life is then cheeked, and, so to say, absorbed by the organs, which diverts it from intellectual action, or at least weakens its activity in that respect. One may, doubt- less, by an effort of the will, excited by circumstances, do violence to the rebellion or inertness of the body, and hurl it into action — ^but never without great fatigue, an exhaustion of one's strength, and, later, its indisposition and its decay entail a painful reaction after this unrea- sonable soaring, so that the higher the previous eleva- tion, the deeper the subsequent fall. Now the orator ought to spare a servant so necessary to him, just as an accomplished rider treats the generous steed whom he might ruin on a single occasion by over urging him. The orator should have a strong constitution; he should have a sound head, a good digestion, and, above all, a robust chest, for nothing is so fatiguing or so ex- hausting as declamation when long continued. I speak of oratorical declamation, which brings simultaneously into action the whole person, moral and physical — ^the head, all the economy of which is strained to the utter- most by extemporization; the lungs, which inhale and respire with violence, frequently with a shock and a gulp, according to the discourse ; the larynx which is ex- panded and contracted precipitately; the nervous sys- tem which is wound up to the highest degree of sensi- bility; the muscular system which is keenly agitated by the oratorical stage-play from the sole of the foot to the tips of the fingers; and, finally, the blood which warms, boils, makes heart and arteries beat with quick strokes, and shoots fire through the whole organization, till the BODILY PKEPARATION 153 humors of the body evaporate and stream in drops of perspiration along the surface of the skin. Judge from this whether, in order to bear such fatigue, health and vigor be required. Nevertheless, there is an illusion against which you must be on your guard; it is that of thinking yourself ill when you have to speak in public, and to mistake for inability the often very sensible indisposition which you experience when called upon for a discourse, either through the indolence which is deterred by labor and fatigue, or on account of the extreme emotion which is felt at the thought of appearing in public, an emotion which produces on the body, and on the bowels espe- cially, an effect reacting all over you. Your arms and legs hang dead, you can hardly drag yourself along, or even stand upright. There is an oppression of the respiration, a weight on the chest, and a man experi- ences, m a fashion sometimes very burdensome, what was felt by the bravest of the brave at the first cannon- shot. Many a time do I remember having found my- self in this state at the moment for mounting the pulpit and while waiting for my summons. Could I have only fled away without shame, most assuredly I should have made off, and I envied the lot of those poor creatures who think of nothing or of no great matter, and who know not these agonies and lacerations. They who have not the strength to overcome these temptations and discouragements will never know how to speak. They will not even have the courage to ex- pose themselves to such trials, I may as well say it, they amount occasionally to such a torture that a man in- voluntarily compares himself to a convict dragged to the gallows. Those who have known this state and tri- umphed over it are aware that I do not exaggerate. 154 BODILY PREPARATION Strange! It proves the contradictions which exist in man as he is, whose original constitution has heen over- thrown by sin which has set in opposition to each other, in one and the same person, the various elements which ought to harmonize in the unity of a single life. You wish and you do not wish simultaneously; body is at war with the mind, and their laws come iuto collision and into conflict. The soul, enlightened by divine truth, touched by charity, transported by the Spirit of God, or by the love of glory, desires to proclaim what it sees, knows, believes, feels, even in the teeth of contradiction, and at the cost of the greatest fatigue, nay, sometimes of the sharpest sufferings; but the body, like some un- broken beast, refuses to the utmost of its power, and you cannot get it along save with a bloody spur. It resists with all its might, takes every opportunity of evasion, every opportunity to shake off the reins which rule it and control its movements. A man of spirit would afterwards be inconsolable that he should have shrunk at the moment of appearing in public, if duty obliges him like a soldier, for having wavered at the beginning of the action; and yet, in the former case, I can bear witness, and perhaps in the latter — I know it not — a man would, a hundred times over, surrender his task ere undertaking it — if he dared. I know but one effectual remedy for this fear — ^the remedy I have already indicated; it is never to mount platform or pulpit, save on the call of conscience alone — ^to fulfill a duty, and to put aside whatever is merely personal — glory, reputation, public opinion — ^whatever relates to self. A man then goes forward as a victim of duty, resigned to the sacrifice, and seeking only the glory of Him to whom the sacrifice is offered. You never succeed better than under these conditions, and BODILY PRBPAEATION 155 everybody is a gainer; the speaker, in calmness, dignity, and simplicity — ^the audience, in a loftier and more pene- trating address, because it is untainted by selfishness and almost above what is merely human. Some persons calculate upon giving themselves cour- age by stimulating drinks or by a generous nourishment. A strange sort of courage that ! In war, where physical force predominates, I can conceive such a thing — and it is a resource not to be disdained before a battle ; but as our business is a battle of eloquence, that is of the subtilest, most intelligent, and most mental element that can be imagined, there is need of another spirit rather than the spirit of alcohol or of wine to stimulate the faculties and warm the heart. Orators who have re- course to such means in order to become capable of mov- ing their hearers, will never get beyond the sphere of the imagination and of the senses, and if they ever have any eloquence, it will be that of the clubs, the taproom, and the crossroads — an eloquence which has a power of its own, but in the interest of evil passions. Finally, in a physical respect, there are precautions to be taken, relatively to such and such an organ which, from its habitual weakness, or its irritated state may need repose or strengthening. In this, each person must manage according to his temperament, constitution, and habits. Some are unable to speak fasting, and no won- der; for it is indispensable to be well supported against a fatigue so great. The voice is weakened, broken by inanition or an empty stomach. Others, again, can not speak after a meal, and this too is intelligible; because the labor of thinking draws the blood to the head, and defrauds the stomach of it, thus stopping digestion — so that the blood throbs vio- lently in the head and produces giddiness. As in all 156 BODILY PREPARATION other earthly eases, the right course here is the middle course. You should have had nourishment, but in mod- eration; and you should not speat, except before diges- tion has begun its labor, or else after it has so far pro- ceeded as not to be any longer liable to be arrested. Every one must settle his own regimen of health in this matter, and nobody can know what will agree with him so well as the speaker himself. He will therefore do as did the athletes of old, who underwent a most rig- orous discipline in order that they might be masters of their whole strength at the moment of conflict; and if they had this resolution who contend in mere bodily strifes, and for perishable garlands, what ought not the wrestlers of eloquence to undergo, whom the Almighty calls to the battles of intelligence, to the proclamation and the defense of truth, of justice, of excellence, of the noblest of things of both heaven and earth, and to a share in their deathless glory ! CHAPTER XIX THE DISCOURSE We have said how the orator should prepare in miad, heart, and even body, for the great work of addressing others; let us now follow him to his j&eld of action at the moment when he is about to establish truth, or com- bat error with the sword of eloquence. This is the sol- emn moment of battle. For the sake of greater clearness we will divide this consideration into six points, and arrange under that number of heads all that we have to say that may be the most useful. We do not aim in this laying down any inviolable order, but merely at having a frame to unite and connect our remarks, our reflections, and the results of our experience; for we must here repeat that we have had no intention of writing a treatise on the oratorical art; our object being merely to give an ac- count to others of what we have done ourselves, and of how we have done it. We shall speak serially : first, of the beginning of the discourse, or exordium; secondly, of the entry upon the subject, or start; thirdly, of the realization of the plan, or the exposition and the progression of the ideas; fourthly, of the supreme (all decisive) moment of the discourse; fifthly, of the peroration; sixthly, of ora- torical action. 157 CHAPTER XX THE BEGINNING OK EXORDIUM I TERM the beginning everything which the orator utters from, the moment he opens his mouth to the moment when he not merely shows the object of his discourse, but enters into and develops his subject. "What I know best is my opening," says the confidant in the comedy of the Plaideurs. This is true of him who re- cites a written discourse; it is not true of him who ex- temporizes. His opening is that which he knows worst, because he is not yet under way and he has to get so. I am well aware that it is in one's power to write one's exordium and learn it by heart. It is a useful practice in certain cases, and for persons who have the habit of blending written with extemporary passages, and of stepping alternately from what they have learnt by heart to what they unfold that very instant from their minds. There are speakers who go through this process remarkably well, and who contrive to produce an effect chiefly by declamation prepared beforehand. I do not blame them for it. The art of speaking is so difficult that you must do in each position what you can, and all is well that ends well. Besides, as in every applied theory, the art must be made to fit the talents of each practitioner. Minds are so various, that what suits one does not suit another — so that here no abso- lute laws exist. Nevertheless I believe I may assert that the true ora- 1S8 THE COMMENCEMENT 159 tor — that is, he who does not recite, but who speaks — is not inclined to employ this process, and hardly finds it answer when he has recourse to it. The very most he can do is to prepare his first sentence, and if he tries to learn a whole exordium he generally entangles him- self, gets confused, and fares worse than if he had spoken. Even in his exordium he needs the freedom of his paces — the one thing indispensable is to keep well before his mind the exact enunciation of his subject, and as rigor- ous and simple a formula as possible of the idea which he has to exhibit. Here should be no vagueness nor obscurity, but a clear intuition and an unhesitating ex- pression. It is in this that the majority of would-be extemporizers fail, because, for want of reflection and meditation, they know clearly neither the object of their discourse nor the way to treat it. They perceive it in the gross or approximately, and thereupon they utter common-places, empty generalities, and turn continu- ally around and about their subject, without ever once going into it. Those who speak are in quite a different position at starting from that of persons who recite. They are gen- erally weak and rather obscure in the opening, whereas the others appear strong and brilliant. But it is the same with whatever has life in nature. Life always opens by an obscure point, hardly perceptible, and pro- ceeds from darkness to light. According to Genesis, all things were created from night to morning. But life grows and assumes organization little by little, and finally it blooms into all its magnificence. So with the spoken address, which is a something endued with life, it is bom, it grows, it assumes organization in the hear- er 's presence. For this reason, the speaker ought to begin softly. 160 THE COMMENCEMENT modestly, and without any pompous announcement of what is to follow. The grain of mustard-seed, which is the smallest of seeds, produces a great tree in which the birds of heaven come and take shelter. The exordium of an extemporaneous discourse ought to be the simplest thing in the world. Its principal use is in laying the subject well down and in giving a glimpse of the idea which has to be developed. Unquestionably, if circumstances require it, you may also introduce certain oratorical precautions — insinua- tions,, commendations, and a delicate and supple mind always finds a way to insert these things. But, gen- erally they clog that mind, because they are outside of its idea and may divert it from the idea; and as the expressions are not ready made, the mind runs a risk of being carried away from its subject at the first start, and of missing its plan. For the same reason, the speaker's voice will be mod- erate, nay a little weak at first, and it may happen, at least in a vast audience, that his first expressions are not heard, or are heard ill. This is of course an incon- venience, but it cannot be helped, and it is not without its advantages. It can not be helped, or can scarcely be so, because as he who extemporizes carries all his ideas in his brain, and is never quite sure of his language, he always gets into the pulpit or upon the platform in a state of deep emotion. Now it is out of the question to bawl when in that state, and it is the most one can do to find voice at all ; the mouth is dry, the tongue cleaves to the palate — "vox fwiicibus hceret" — and one can hardly articulate. Besides, should the orator force his voice in the be- ginning, it will be presently rendered hoarse, broken, exhausted, and it will fail him before a quarter of an THE COMMENCEMENT 161 hour. You must speak neither too loudly nor too fast at first; or else the violent and rapid expansions and contractions of the larynx force it and falsify it. You must husband your voice at starting in order that it may last and maintain itself to the end. When you gradu- ally strengthen and animate it, it does not give way — it remains clear, strong, and pleasing to the close of your harangue. Now this is a very important particular for speaker and for hearers; for the former, because he keeps sound and powerful the instrument without which he can do nothing ; for the latter, because nothing tires them more than hoarse, obstreperous, and ill-articulated sounds. The inconvenience in question has the further advan- tage of establishing silence among the audience, espe- cially if it is considerable and diffused over a vast space, as in churches. At the beginning of a sermon, there is always noise; people taking their places, chairs or benches turning, coughs, pocket handkerchiefs, mur- murs, a hubbub more or less protracted, which is un- avoidable in a large assembly of persons settling them- selves. But if you speak low, softly, and the audience sees you speak, without hearing you, it wiU make haste to be still that it may listen, and all ears will be directed more eagerly towards the pulpit. In general, men es- teem only what they have not, or what they dread los- ing, and the words which they fear they shall not be able to catch, become more valuable. For the same reason, again, the bearing of the ex- temporaneous speaker is modest and even somewhat abashed, as he presents himself in the pulpit, or on the platform ; for he almost invariably mounts thither as to the place of torture, so full is he of anguish, so heavy feels the burden of speaking. Nevertheless, he must be- 162 THE COMMENCEMENT ware of allowing his agitation to be too apparent, and above all of affecting the victim. For the rest, if he be a true orator, his countenance, as well as interior feel- ings, will soon change. He will hardly have pronounced a few sentences ere all his confusion will vanish, the mind will assert its superiority and sway the body. Once face to face, and at grappling point with his idea, he will forget everything else. He will no longer see anything save the thought which he has to manifest, the feeling of his heart which he has to communicate. His voice, which just now was so tremulous and broken, wiU acquire assurance, authority, brilliancy; if he is rightly inspired that day, if light from on high beams in his intelligence and warms his soul, his eyes will shoot light- ning, and his voice the thunderbolt ; his countenance will shine like the sun, and the weakness of humanity will undergo its transfiguration. He will stand on the Mount Tabor of eloquence. CHAPTER XXI ENTRANCE INTO THE SUBJECT After the exordium, which, should clearly and briefly lay down the theme of the discourse, as well as its divi- sion, if there is occasion, the business must be entered upon and the development begun. This is perhaps the hardest part of extemporaneous speaking, and that in which it offers most disadvantages. The point is to get out of harm, and there is but a nar- row passage which it is easy to miss. A favorable wind is necessary to waft you into the open sea. Many are wrecked in this passage, and know not how to get out into the open sea of their subject. In writing you have time for reflection, and can ar- range at leisure the sequence of your ideas. Neverthe- less, everybody knows what trouble this arrangement often costs, and how great the perplexity is in catching the exact thread of unravelment, and in distinguishing amidst several ideas that which commands the rest and will open a way for them, as a principle has its conse- quences and a cause its effects. Sometimes whole hours are consumed in seeking the end of the chain, so as to unroll it suitably, and too often, as when trying to dis- entangle a skein of thread, you proceed awkwardly and you complicate, instead of unraveling. This is one of the chief annoyances of those who want to write, espe- cially in the period of impatient, fancy-ridden youth, when one readily mistakes whatever glitters or produces 163 164 ENTRANCE INTO SUBJECT effect for the main point and the thing essential. A rare sagacity, or else much reflection and matureness are requisite to catch, at the first glance, the true serial connection of ideas, and to put everything in its right place, without groping and without unsuccessful trials. "What then, if you must decide on the spot, without hesitation, without being able "to try," before an audi- ence, which has its eyes riveted upon you, its ears in- tent, and its expectation eagerly awaiting the words that are to fall from your lips? The slightest delay is out of the question, and you must rush into the arena, often but half accoutered or ill armed. The moment is come, you must begin to speak, even though you do not exactly know what you are going to say, nor whether what you shall say wiU lead precisely to the passage which leads into the open sea. There is here a critical instant for the orator, an instant which wiU decide the fate of his discourse. No doubt he has prepared the sequence of his thoughts, and he is in possession of his plan. But this plan comprises only the leading ideas stationed widely apart, and in order to reach the first station from the starting point, there is a rush to make and an aim to take, and therein lies the difficulty. The best way is to go with resolution straight to the heart of your subject, the main idea, and to disembowel it, so to speak, in order to get forth its entrails and lay them out. But a man has not always the courage and the strength; besides which, he is afraid of being deficient in materials if he makes short work with his exposition, and thus of break- ing down after a while, without having filled up the time assigned or run his due course. This is a common illusion among beginners. They are always in dread of wanting sufficient materials, and either in their plan, or ENTRANCE INTO SUBJECT 165 in their discourse, they heap up all manner of things, and end by being lengthy, diffuse, and confused. A man is never short of materials, when he is in the true line of his development. But he must strike the rock with the rod of Moses, and above all he must strike it as God has commanded in order that the waters may gush from it in an inexhaustible stream. When the miuer has touched the right lode, wealth abounds. Unfortunately, things do not always happen thus. Too often one takes the first path that offers to reach the main idea, and that path is not always the straightest nor the clearest. Once in the way, with eyes bent towards the point of destination, a man plies, not indeed the oars, but words, in order to attain the idea, and he attains it only by circuitous and tortuous efforts. The hearer who is following you does not very well see whither you are leading him, and if this position con- tinues for a little longer, the discomfort of the speaker gains upon the listeners, and a coldness is diffused with the uneasiness among the assembly. Have you at times contemplated from the shore a white sail striving to leave the roadstead, and by the wind's help to gain the offing? It tacks in all direc- tions, to gaiu its object, and when balked, it flutters inwards and oscillates without advancing, until at last the favorable breeze distends it, and then it passes swiftly over the waters, enters upon the open sea, and speedily vanishes below the horizon. Thus it is with the orator who misses his right course in the first in- stance. Eager to set out, because it would be discredit- able to stand still, he hoists his sail to the first wind that blows, and presently back it sinks with the deceitful breeze. He tries another course with as poor success, and runs the risk of either not advancing or of taking 166 ENTRANCE INTO SUBJECT a wrong line. He then makes for the first image that presents itself, and it beguiles him far from his subject. He would fain return, but no longer knows his way. He sees his goal afar, eluding him, as Ithaca escaped Ulysses, and like Ulysses he may complete a very long Odyssey ere reaching it. Perhaps he will never get thither, and that is sadder still. There are persons who speak for a whole hour, within sight of their subject, and yet can not manage to enter it. Sometimes, again, they get at it when they ought to be taking leave of it — that is when their time is ex- hausted. Hence interminable orations which tire the hearer without either instructing or moving him; the orator wears himself out in utter futility, and his toil is fruitless. He has plunged into a quagmire ; the more he struggles, the deeper he sinks ; he flounders right and left to find his road and recover solid ground, and if he gains it, it is covered all over with the mud through which he has waded. Horace says — "qui iene coepit, facti dimidium habet," "he who has begun well, has half done his work." This is perfectly applicable to the orator, who has weU got into his matter, and who, after having clearly laid down his subject, attacks it full front, and takes up under- standingly the thread of his ideas. He has then noth- ing to do but to suffer his skiff to float along; the very current will carry it on to the destination, and the strokes of his oars, and the breeze in his sails, will be so many accessorial means of propulsion. But if he is out of the current, and still more, if he is against the current, should the breeze fail him or prove adverse, the more he rows the less he advances. He will lose time and trouble, and fill with uneasiness or with pity those who watch him from the shore. ENTRANCE INTO SUBJECT 167 But how begin well? How find this thread of the deep water, this favorable current, or, to speak with- out metaphor, the leading idea by which a man should open, and which will bring after it the others? Can a precept be given, a method prescribed for this end? No precept, no method, avails anything, except in so far as one knows how to apply them; and in order to under- stand them rightly, and above all, in order to make use of' them successfully, what we need is good sense, in- telligence, and an unwarped, piercing mind. A man should be able to discern rapidly what is to be done in the case which we have just described — ^he must know how to take advantage of the rising breeze which can help him, and how to extricate himself from the em- barrassment in which he is involved. There is need, in short, for the orator, as for any other person who has to face a danger or escape from a disadvantage, of both mind and presence of mind — ^things not to be taught. CHAPTER XXII THE DEVELOPMENT The speaker should have his plan well fixed, not only on paper, but in his head, so as to keep ever present before his mind the chain of the thoughts, and so as to proceed successively from one to the other in the pre- scribed order of the exposition. The discourse, then, is mounted, as it were, in a frame from which it ought not to slip, under pain of digressing and diverting, by its deviations, the attention of the hearers from the subject, as a river which overflows its bed sweeps away what- ever it meets, and spreads dearth and ruin where it ought to have diffused refreshment and fertility. Or to speak more properly, the discourse which thus overflows carries nothing at aU with it except those wordy waves which beat upon the ears without leaving behind them a single idea or moving a single feeling. Many of those who are anxious to speak extemporane- ously, and who do not understand it, for want of talent or of preparation, are lost in this manner. The current of their discourse, which is not kept within its banks, gets every moment divided and loses itself in emptiness, like those rivers with a multiplicity of mouths, which are absorbed by the sands. It is a highly important matter, then, to know how to confine oneself to one's plan — although one must not be such a slave to it, as to leave no room for the new thoughts which may occur at the moment. That would les THE DEVELOPMENT 169 be to deprive oneself of one of the chief advantages of extemporization — the inspiration of the moment and the life it gives to the discourse. A man who is accustomed to speak in public even foresees to a certain extent — or rather he has a presenti- ment in the matter not indeed of the instant at which he will have this inspiration, but of the ideas which may offer themselves in certain stages of the development; he catches sight of what is involved in an idea which he has yet only indicated. It is like a plunge of the sound- lag rod, dropped beforehand into a spring, and he care- fully recloses it until he shall require to uncover it and make it gush forth. He would weaken, and perhaps ex- haust it, were he to pierce it during the preparatory portion; he reserves it for the favorable moment, sure to find there a plentiful well when he pleases. But every advantage has its drawback. In the warmth of exposition a man is not always master of his own words, and when new thoughts arise, they may lead a long way from the subject, to which there is sometimes a difficulty in returning. Hence digressions, prolixities, appendages, which cause the main object to be lost to view, and wear out or render languid the at- tention of the audience. All who extemporize have had this misfortune some time or other. If you do not accustom yourself to hold with a firm hand the thread of your thoughts, so that you can always, amidst the labyrinth of the discourse and the many mazes into which you may be drawn, re- cover your way, you will never come to speak in an endurable manner; and even though you should have fine passages, the hearer will grow weary of your devi- ous style, and when all is said he will be neither in- structed nor impressed. You may dazzle him by the 170 THE DEVELOPMENT pomp of language, surprise him by ideas more or less ingenious, nay amuse him, for a moment, by the wit and sparMe of your expressions; but you wiU not sug- gest one idea to his mind nor instill a single feeling into his ear, because there will be neither order nor unity, and therefore no life in your discourse. It is further essential to beware of the distractions which may break the thread of the exposition, and abruptly send the mind into a totally different and an unprepared channel. This is another of the dangers at- tending extemporization, which imperatively demands that you should give yourself wholly to your subject, and thus exclude from your mind every extraneous image and thought — no easy task, when a man stands face to face with a numerous assembly, whose eyes from all directions are centered upon him, tempting him to look at people, were it only because people are aU look- ing at him. On this account it is necessary that the orator before speaking should be collected — ^he should be wholly ab- sorbed in his ideas, and proof against the iaterruptions and impressions which surround him. The slightest dis- traction to which he yields may break the chain of his thoughts, mar his plan, and even sponge out of his mind the very remembrance of his subject itself. This ap- pears incredible, and I would not believe it myself had I not experienced it. One day, I had to preach in one of the principal churches of Paris. It was a solemn festival, and there was an immense audience, including part of the Court then reigning. As I was ascending the pulpit I per- ceived a person whom I had supposed absent, and my mind was carried away suddenly by a train of recollec- tions. I reached the pulpit-landing, knelt down as usual. THE DEVELOPMENT 171 and when I should have risen to speak, I had forgotten not only my text, but even the subject of my sermon. I literally knew no longer what I had come to speak upon, and, despite of all my efforts to remember it, I could see nothing but one complete blank. My em- barrassment and anguish may be conceived. I re- mained on my knees a little longer than was customary, not knowing what to do. Nevertheless, not losing head or heart, I looked full at my danger without being seared by it, yet without seeing how I was to get out of it either. At last, unable to recover anything by my own proper strength — ^neither subject nor text — I had recourse to God, and I said to Him, from the very bottom of my heart and 'with all the fervor of my anxiety — "Lord if it be Thy will that I preach, give me back my plan;" and at that instant, my text came back into my mind, and with my text the subject. I think that nevep in my life have I experienced anything more astonishing, nor a more lively emotion of gratitude. At other times, and this often happens, you lose while speaking the thread of your discourse, especially when some new idea crosses, or if you allow yourself to begin looking about among the audience. You generally be- come aware of it ere the sentence you are uttering is finished; for when you extemporize, you always see the next idea before you have done with its predecessor, and in order to advance with certainty you must look some- what forward, in order to discern where you are going to plant your foot presently. Suddenly, you can see nothing before you, and you are come to the closing member of your period. If you then become agitated, you are lost; for anxiety, far from enabling you to re- cover your ideas, confuses them still more, and the more disturbed you get, the less capable are you of retrieving 172 THE DEVELOPMENT your plan and reeiteiiiig Hx: mad. In tiiese eases, ytn must eatmly, imder anotliar fum, with odier phraseSc resome the same titoog^ joa have just expressed, and nearly ahrajs it RcaDs that wMdi was loBt; it gesifly exdtes the rem em hramee of it, h^ Tirtne of the associa- tion of ideas and of the preTioi^ dab