The art of extempore speaking

Front matter

Glass.

Book__

THE ART

Chapter I. Exposition Of The Subject. — Definition Of An Extemporaneous Speech

Let us in the first place determine accurately the subject we propose to treat, in order that nothing may be expected from us beyond that which it is our wish and in our power to illustrate.

We have no intention of composing a treatise on eloquence. The world has had enougl^- on this subject since the time of Aristotle Cicero, Quintilian, Fenelon, and many others

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Works on rhetoric abound, and it appears scarcely necessary to produce a new one.

It is not our intention to treat of the art of writing, or of reciting a discourse elaborated at leisure, and committed to memory.

It is true, men may become great orators by writing speeches and reciting them well. Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Massillon, and many others, are examples of this fact, and it is possible in this manner to instruct the mind, to touch the feelings, and to persuade the hearer; thus realising the aim of all oratory.

Our subject is confined within narrower limits to the art of speaking well, whether in the 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 combination 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 extemporised.

Extemporisation implies speaking on the first impulse, on any subject presented to the mind, without a preliminary arrangement of phrases. It is the instantaneous manifestation of a thought ; the ready exposition of a mental impression.

It is evident that the art of extemporising has reference only to the form of words, or the form of a discourse ; for, in order to speak, it is necessary to have something to say, and that something must already be existing in the mind, or still more deeply in the intimate feeling of the orator. Nevertheless, the thought or feeling may be in a concealed state, and the possessor may not have clearly appreciated or distinctly perceived it at the moment of opening his lips under the impression of some circumstance or some unforeseen cause of excitement.

Ideas and conditions of the mind cannot be elaborated at will ; and the more perfectly they are possessed or felt, the greater is the probability of their lively expression, 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 sub-

B 2 lime words, or with an eloquent harangue " Facit indignatio versum," says Juvenal.

Every feeling unexpectedly aroused in an excited mind may, like a volcano, scatter around burning lava, or, like a cloud charged with storms, produce thunder and lightning, with terrible and devastating hail. No advice can be given for such a situation, for nature alone furnishes the means referable to individual constitution and development. There lies the source af all poetry, of all eloquence, and of all artistic power. Improvisation such as this recognises 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 extempore speaking, that is to say, to those addresses which have to be delivered in public before a specified auditory, on a particular 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 persons who are masters of recitation or reading, and can thus produce a great effect. In this manner, doubtless, both thoughts and words can be bettter weighed, and the speaker can deliver what he has to say with greater precision. But there is this disadvantage, that the discourse is colder, less apposite, and approximates too nearly to dissertation. Nay, should any unforeseen circumstance occur, such as an objection, a rejoinder, or a discussion of any kind, the speaker not expecting it, may find himself at a loss, to the great detriment of his cause or his subject. Moreover, a preacher, a professor, or a senator, who is liable to be called upon to speak at any moment, has not always the time to compose a discourse, still less to learn it by rote. Therefore, in speaking from his fulness, as the saying is, he can speak oftener, and, if he speak well, may produce a great effect.

His language will also be more forcible and brilliant, — more real and more apposite. Originating with the occasion, and at the very moment, it will bear more closely on the subject, and strike with greater force and precision. His words will be warmer from their freshness; they will in this manner communicate increased fervour to the audience, and will have all the energy of an instantaeous effort.

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 an effort which engages the sympathy of hearers, who witness with lively interest this labour of mental life, by which an idea well conceived is brought to light, and presented in a 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 advantages and defects. It is possible to excel in both ways, and every one must endeavour to discover the manner which best suits him, and the method by which, according 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 man to discover the gift he has received, to make use of it with usury, and to discharge faithfully his high vocation. " Fiunt oratores, nascuntur poetae," as said Quintilian; meaning, doubtless, that poetic genius is a gift from heaven, and that oratorical talent can be acquired. This is only half true ; for if teaching and labour can contribute to the formation of an orator, neither the 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 are so well able to compose in private. They are troubled and embarrassed before the least imposing audience. Rousseau could never speak in public ; and the Abbe de Lamenais, whose style is so vigorous, never ventured to enter the pulpit, and w r as unable to address even a meeting of children.

Others, on the contrary, possess the faculty of easily expressing 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 attempt, by preparing an exordium, a tirade, or a peroration, with the intention of speaking better or in a more striking manner. But we have never succeeded in reciting what we had prepared, and in the manner in which we had constructed it. Our laboured compositions have always missed their object, and have made us embarrassed or obscure. Thus, it appears, we were made, and we have been forced to follow our nature. In such matters the lesson to be learnt is in turning to account the demands of nature which must be satisfied.

As extemporising 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. L 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 our thoughts are to be conveyed, so as to avoid the

STATEMENT OF THE SUBJECT. B

necessity of seeking the words at the moment the idea is conceived, 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 qualifications on which we are about to speak, not precisely with the view of teaching the means of acquiring them, as for the most part they are gifts of nature ; but to induce those to cultivate and develope 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 IT.

THE QUALIFICATIONS NECESSARY FOR PUBLIC SPEAKING.

At the root of every real talent, whatever it may be, there lies a natural aptitude, conferring on the person endowed with it a particular power ; and this aptitude depends alike on the intellectual temperament and the physical organisation ; for man being essentially composed of mind and body, all that he does in reason, or in his quality as a reasonable thing, comes from these two portions of his being and from their mutual relations. 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 vigour 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 chapter, are —

1. A lively sensibility.

2. A penetrating intelligence.

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

communicating to others ideas and feelings.

7. Finally, a certain instinct which urges a

man to speak, as a bird to sing.

§ 1. — A lively Sensibility.

Art has its root in sensibility, and although the latter depends much on the body, and especially on the nerves which are its physical medium, sensibility is nevertheless one of the principal powers of the mind, not to say a faculty, since the word faculty denotes a manner of acting, and sensibility is a manner of suffering or of sustaining an action.

Thus the mind w T hich 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 appropriating impressions that the vivacity of sensibility necessary to artistic expression consists. Every man feels according to his sensitiveness ; but all do not feel in the same manner, and thus are neither able to express what they feel in the same manner, nor are disposed 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 most strongly, and with the greatest pleasure. In this, also, lies the origin of taste in art, and in a particular art, the inclination either towards the exercise of such art or for the appreciation of its works. Some have more taste and facility in the 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, satire, idyls and eclogues, &c, &c, which are all poetic expressions of the human mind : and so far they resemble each other ; but they differ 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 the lark is not that of the nightingale.

It is thus in the art of speaking ; one speaker has more power to set forth ideas, their connexion, and their gradations. He discerns perfectly the congruity, the difference, the contrast of thoughts, and thus he will deliver them impromptu with facility, delicacy, and subtil ty. He has perception and ideality ; he conceives distinctly, and will therefore enunciate gracefully and clearly. Such an one is made to teach and to instruct.

Another has a greater enjoyment of everything relating to the feelings and affections, to soft or strong emotions. He will therefore employ with greater pleasure and greater success all that can touch, move, and hurryaway his auditors ; he will cause the fibres of the heart to vibrate. Such an one will be an orator rather than a professor, and will be better able to persuade by emotion than to convince by reason.

A third delights in images and pictures. He feels more vividly everything that he can grasp and reproduce in his imagination ; he therefore takes pleasure in these reproductions. Such an one will be a descriptive speaker, and will rise almost to poetry in his prose. He will speak to the imagination of his hearers rather than to their heart or mind : he will affect but little, and instruct still less ; but he will be able to amuse and interest, he will attract by originality, by the variety of his pictures, and by the vivacity and brilliancy of his colouring.

In these different instances we see that sensibility is vividly excited either by ideas, by feelings, or by images ; and it is evident that he who would extemporise a discourse in one of these three methods, must feel vividly the subject upon which he has to speak, and employ language proportionate to the impression he has received and retained.

But if sensibility must be strong, it must nevertheless be kept within certain limits; otherwise it renders expression impossible from the agitation of the mind, and the over-excitement of the nervous system. 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 orator. Before the public he must not weep, nor even be moved to such a point that his voice shall 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 retain the mastery of them.

At times, doubtless, a great effect may be produced by the very inability to speak, 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 be declared at once, but escape little by little, so as gradually to animate the whole body of the discourse. It is thus that art idealises nature in rejecting all that 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 predominance of mind over matter, of the soul over the body, of man over nature. Christian feeling is never intemperate, never disorderly. It is always restrained within a certain 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 overcome 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 analysed and developed ; that, having been developed, they may be re-embodied, again concentrated, and reduced to unity. In this operation there is an infinity of gradations which must be delicately perceived and appreciated. But if this feeling 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, and from that moment he is incapable 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 reflect and recover themselves from the fulness 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, w r ho was endowed w T ith remarkable

c 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 well 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 perfection of humanity, — than we fall into exaggeration, which destroys and renders powerless as much as deficiency itself. — In medio virtus.

For description sensibility is required, but here also it must not run riot, or we wander to impressions of detail, and end by producing a species of poem or a monograph of each flower or object w T hich pleases us.

This in painting is called tableaux de genre ; it may for an instant attract and amuse, but does not represent one idea worthy of art. It is in literature that kind of poetry or romance in which the Germans and English delight, and which consists in painting in the greatest detail the commonest things of life. Impressions are then borrowed from the domestic hearth, the life of a family, or of a country, as aesthetic sentiments, as effects of art, falling into a paltry realism, which lowers art in making it descend to the commonplace realities of life. Finally, it is the defect of those preachers who delight in continual descriptions, whether of a physical or of a moral nature, to render their sermons subject to their taste for imagery, and thus they become mere galleries of pictures, which amuse those who recognise in them the portraits of others, but fail to receive instruction to themselves. He who 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 to that vehemence which prevents the mind from acting, and paralyses the expression from the very fulness of the feeling. This would be a sort of intellectual apoplexy, taking away the gift of speech, and rendering it powerless by excess of life.

§ 2. — Keen Intelligence.

In oratory the feelings must be resolved into ideas, thoughts, images, and thence into words, phrases, language, as a cloud or condensed vapour is transformed and distilled into rain,

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" 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. It is for this reason that animals possessing sensibility, at times more subtle than that of man, are incapable of speaking, although, like all other beings on earth, they may have a spontaneous language, by which a kindred nature manifests all that takes place among them. They have no intelligence, and thus they have neither consciousness nor reflection, though there exists in them a principle of life, gifted with. sensibility and instinct, which gives them the semblance of human intelligence, but it cannot be maintained that they are reasonable; this 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 analyse by thought all that it has perceived 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, combine, and divide in a thousand manners, 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 extemporised discourse presupposes a preliminary operation of thought. The thought must have been w T ell conceived, held, and grasped in a single idea which contains the v^hole substance. Then, for the exposition of this idea, it must have been divided into its principal parts, or into other subordinate ideas as members of it, and then again into others still more minutely, until the subject is exhausted. This multitude of thoughts must be w r ell arranged, so that at the very moment each may arrive in the place marked out for it, and appear in its turn in the discourse to play its part and fulfil its function, the value of which consists in the antecedents which prepare and the consequences which develope it, as figures in an arithmetical operation have value in themselves and also by their position.

Much intelligence is therefore required for this preparatory labour, so useful in extemporisation ; or, in other words, for the elaboration of a plan, without which it would be hazardous to venture on ground so dangerous and so slippery. The first condition of speaking is to know what is intended to be said, and the greater the intelligence employed in the preparation of the speech, and the more clearly it is conceived, the greater is the probability of presenting it forcibly to others.

That which is well conceived is clearly enunciated.

Nevertheless, this first labour 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 in 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 superficial relations; — by accidental or purely external associations, as are often 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 intuitively 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 one hand connection by a chain of intermediary ideas, and on the other the order of this connection, by means pf reflection, and uniting them in a thought to be presented, or an end to be attained.

Then comes a third step, which exacts even a greater subtlety and greater promptitude of mind. This plan which has been committed to paper, which is now carefully kept in the head, must be realised in words, and endowed with vitality. 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 his hearers all that he carries in his mind — all his ideas, giving to each, in its place, body, covering, colouring, and life. He should, however, while speaking, Janus-like, see double ; within, at his plan ; without, at the thread of his discourse ; so as to keep within the line of his thought, without disturbing his arrangement, or diverging. He must, finally, be able, as on a day of battle, suddenly to modify what he has beforehand prepared ; following whatever may present itself, and this without relinquishing his principal idea, 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 speak of the discourse itself; and all of which, like those we have just mentioned, presumes the exercise of an intense, rapid, and most penetrating intelligence.

§ 3.— Bight Reason or Gfood Sense.

A great deal of talent may exist without common sense, and this anomaly is often met with in clever persons, and those who wish to appear clever. By endeavouring 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 regarding them in their varied aspects, takes

NATURAL QUALITIES NECESSARY. 2o

away the faculty of seeing them in their true meanings and natural bearings.

Now, nothing is so fatal to extemporisation as this wretched tendency of the mind to lose itself in details, and to neglect the main point. Without at this moment speaking of the construction of the plan, wherein simplicity and clearness are needed, good sense is singularly conducive, and ought, above all things, to prevail ; it is evident that this quality, so useful in business, is more than ever so in the instantaneous formation of a discourse, and in the dangerous task of extemporising, whether as regards matter or manner.

Good sense is the instinctive action of right reason, discriminating with a rapidity of feeling, and by an intuitive perception, what is or is not suitable to any circumstance. Therefore, it is a sudden appreciation of a thousand bearings presented to the mind, as when, amidst the fervour 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 introduced, — an explanation which might run to too great a length and which must be abridged, — an emotion or effect 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 itself, and during the unsuspended progress of the discourse.

The same applies to the form or style of the speech. How many mental and literary proprieties to be observed ! 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 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, and to the link which is to connect it with that which you are ending ! Truly there is enough to produce giddiness 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 certainty, and as it were of its own accord, if the subject have been fitly prepared, if you be thoroughly in possession of it, and if you be well inclined at the moment.

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 leads most directly to your destination, and to keep constantly in that which you have marked out for yourself beforehand, shunning all other byways, however alluring they may appear, — you most assuredly require that clear, decisive, and certain sight which good sense gives, and that kind of instinct of taste for truth which it alone produces.