INTRODUCTION.

1. — NECESSITY AND IMPORTANCE OF ELOCUTIONARY

TRAINING.

ALTHOUGH the subject of elocution is slowly assuming a place of importance in the country, there is still a great deal of misapprehension among people, otherwise intelligent, as to the nature and utility of the study.

The objections urged are usually brief and stereotyped. I hope an answer to them may be found in the following discussion.

(1.) The first argument for the study is found in the fact that the use of language and speech is acquired. However the race may have come by the power of language, certainly each one must acquire its use. The simplest forms of speech are learned in infancy. The person born deaf, not being impressible by the usual methods, remains destitute of the faculty of speech until unusual means are employed; then even the deaf learn language, and the dumb are made to speak.* The models we imitate are not always perfect ones; therefore faulty pronunciations, inflections, even bad qualities of voice, and other imperfections are acquired. Leaving these beginnings, man is conscious of thought, emotions, and affections, which he would express to others to whom he is related. The more refined the thought and delicate the emotion, the more difficult the expression, and he finds at last that language is poverty-stricken, in fact, sometimes a hinderance, to convey the burden of thought and heart.

* See Bell's "Visible Speech," for deaf-mutes.

A masterly use of written language requires special study and constant painstaking. Comparatively few attain to perfection in the art; fewer still become skilful in speech, for the artist must not only be thoroughly proficient in the literal forms, but in addition must possess a body so disciplined and a nervous system so attuned, that the organs of speech may become the ready vehicles to express that which has appeared in the consciousness.

Those indifferent to the study frequently indulge in the trite saying, "The orator is born." Fine musical genius is a gift of birth, but the musician does not fail to practise on his instrument. The speaker's voice is infinitely more complex and wonderful than any instrument made by man. Some men are happily endowed by nature for the exercise of oratory, so are others for surgery, but the student of the latter does not neglect anatomy or the skilful use of his instru

ments.

Many who would discourage technical study and practice in the art, are yet very liberal in prescribing their cure-all, "Be natural!" To follow intelligently this advice would be quite difficult, if not impossible, without particular application. We would be first led to inquire what is meant by "natural." It is natural for some men to talk through the nose, for others to froth and pound, for others to indulge in a tone of sepulchral monotony, reminding us of the phonograph. I hold it to be poor advice to recommend such to be “natural." If "natural" means normal, then the instruction, be normal, has a meaning. Normal expression would say, "Do not speak through the nose; for physiologists have agreed, and vocal teachers have insisted, that the nose is not an organ of speech, but was made to smell with." Normal expression would recommend the speaker to open his mouth; in short, to avoid all injurious and also all ineffective habits.

As the skilful use of language is not a matter of intuition but must be acquired, why not correct the faults hitherto

learned, and then systematically study to develop and discipline the organs and faculties of speech, instead of blindly using this wonderful power?

(2.) The second argument for the value of the study is that of practical necessity. Some have looked upon the practice of oratory as a luxury and not as a necessity; and upon its excellences as adornments and not as indispensables. The art does not contemplate the effort to pass off nothing for something, but to pass off something for just what it is worth. It aims at an easy and effective delivery, permitting nothing unnecessary.

The action of many speakers, viewed from the standpoint of utility, is simply ridiculous. The thoughtful student sits and asks, "Now what is the use of that senseless monotony ? What is the use of whining and using that cant tone?” Some speakers are as lifeless as skeletons and as cold as statues. They must be aroused. Others are as extravagant as clowns. They must be taught self-control. Very frequently we have heard the expression, "It tires me to hear Mr. he labors so hard." I know of a case where an official member of a church, in full sympathy with his pastor, was compelled to attend service elsewhere, because the painful use of the preacher's voice so affected him. To correct all extravagances, all mannerisms of action, all vicious habits of voice, is the first thing elocution sets itself about.

The advantage of those who have qualified themselves as speakers over those who have not is a practical proof of the utility of the art. Some speakers, perhaps without special attention to the subject, speak well and have eminent success; but certainly those who have not such natural abilities must not compare their chances for success with such unusual types. I once overheard an intelligent and aged layman discussing the subject with a young theological student. He took the ministers of the city, of all denominations, one by one; in every instance those who had the best delivery

secured the largest audiences and did more effective work, though no better scholars than the others. Said he, "The question is often raised, 'How shall we get people into the churches?'" In my opinion one answer is, "Have better

speakers in the pulpit."

When any one distinguishes himself in any particular, we naturally seek to know by what means he achieved his advantage, and esteem the practice of such lives valuable in relation to their success. We find that those who have distinguished themselves as orators have been long, patient, and in some instances painful toilers at their art. Public address reached its highest perfection in Greece. Demosthenes is looked upon as the prince of orators. Plutarch says of him, "When he first addressed himself to the people, he met with great discouragements and was derided for his strange and uncouth manner. Besides, he had a weakness in his voice, a perplexed and indistinct utterance, and a shortness of breath, which, by breaking and disjointing his sentences, much obscured the sense and meaning of what he spoke. In one of his efforts, at length disheartened, he forsook the assembly. Eunomous, an old man, upbraided him for his lack of courage against the popular outcry, and for not fitting his body for action, but allowing it to languish through mere sloth and negligence."

Another time, when the assembly refused to hear him, going home, Satyrus, the actor, being his familiar friend, followed him. Demosthenes complained that drunkards and mariners and illiterate fellows were heard in the hustings, while he was dispraised.

"You say true, Demosthenes; repeat to me some passage out of Euripides or Sophocles." Satyrus, taking it after him, gave the passage with such new form that to Demosthenes it seemed like quite another thing.

"Hereupon he built himself a place for study underground, and shaved one side of his head that he might not go abroad."