The Art of Public Speaking
11. Describe some particularly appropriate gesture that you have
observed. Why was it appropriate?
12. Cite at least three movements in nature that might well be imitated
in gesture.
13. What would you gather from the expressions: _descriptive_ gesture,
_suggestive_ gesture, and _typical_ gesture?
14. Select any elemental emotion, such as fear, and try, by picturing in
your mind at least five different situations that might call forth this
emotion, to express its several phases by gesture--including posture,
movement, and facial expression.
15. Do the same thing for such other emotions as you may select.
16. Select three passages from any source, only being sure that they are
suitable for public delivery, memorize each, and then devise gestures
suitable for each. Say why.
17. Criticise the gestures in any speech you have heard recently.
18. Practise flexible movement of the hand. What exercises did you find
useful?
19. Carefully observe some animal; then devise several typical gestures.
20. Write a brief dialogue between any two animals; read it aloud and
invent expressive gestures.
21. Deliver, with appropriate gestures, the quotation that heads this
chapter.
22. Read aloud the following incident, using dramatic gestures:
When Voltaire was preparing a young actress to appear in one of
his tragedies, he tied her hands to her sides with pack thread
in order to check her tendency toward exuberant gesticulation.
Under this condition of compulsory immobility she commenced to
rehearse, and for some time she bore herself calmly enough; but
at last, completely carried away by her feelings, she burst her
bonds and flung up her arms. Alarmed at her supposed neglect of
his instructions, she began to apologize to the poet; he
smilingly reassured her, however; the gesture was _then_
admirable, because it was irrepressible.
--REDWAY, _The Actor's Art_.
23. Render the following with suitable gestures:
One day, while preaching, Whitefield "suddenly assumed a
nautical air and manner that were irresistible with him," and
broke forth in these words: "Well, my boys, we have a clear sky,
and are making fine headway over a smooth sea before a light
breeze, and we shall soon lose sight of land. But what means
this sudden lowering of the heavens, and that dark cloud arising
from beneath the western horizon? Hark! Don't you hear distant
thunder? Don't you see those flashes of lightning? There is a
storm gathering! Every man to his duty! The air is dark!--the
tempest rages!--our masts are gone!--the ship is on her beam
ends! What next?" At this a number of sailors in the
congregation, utterly swept away by the dramatic description,
leaped to their feet and cried: "The longboat!--take to the
longboat!"
--NATHAN SHEPPARD, _Before an Audience_.
CHAPTER XVI
METHODS OF DELIVERY
The crown, the consummation, of the discourse is its delivery.
Toward it all preparation looks, for it the audience waits, by
it the speaker is judged.... All the forces of the orator's life
converge in his oratory. The logical acuteness with which he
marshals the facts around his theme, the rhetorical facility
with which he orders his language, the control to which he has
attained in the use of his body as a single organ of expression,
whatever richness of acquisition and experience are his--these
all are now incidents; _the fact_ is the sending of his message
home to his hearers.... The hour of delivery is the "supreme,
inevitable hour" for the orator. It is this fact that makes lack
of adequate preparation such an impertinence. And it is this
that sends such thrills of indescribable joy through the
orator's whole being when he has achieved a success--it is like
the mother forgetting her pangs for the joy of bringing a son
into the world.
--J.B.E., _How to Attract and Hold an Audience_.
There are four fundamental methods of delivering an address; all others
are modifications of one or more of these: reading from manuscript,
committing the written speech and speaking from memory, speaking from
notes, and extemporaneous speech. It is impossible to say which form of
delivery is best for all speakers in all circumstances--in deciding for
yourself you should consider the occasion, the nature of the audience,
the character of your subject, and your own limitations of time and
ability. However, it is worth while warning you not to be lenient in
self-exaction. Say to yourself courageously: What others can do, I can
attempt. A bold spirit conquers where others flinch, and a trying task
challenges pluck.
_Reading from Manuscript_
This method really deserves short shrift in a book on public speaking,
for, delude yourself as you may, public reading is not public speaking.
Yet there are so many who grasp this broken reed for support that we
must here discuss the "read speech"--apologetic misnomer as it is.
Certainly there are occasions--among them, the opening of Congress, the
presentation of a sore question before a deliberative body, or a
historical commemoration--when it may seem not alone to the "orator" but
to all those interested that the chief thing is to express certain
thoughts in precise language--in language that _must_ not be either
misunderstood or misquoted. At such times oratory is unhappily elbowed
to a back bench, the manuscript is solemnly withdrawn from the capacious
inner pocket of the new frock coat, and everyone settles himself
resignedly, with only a feeble flicker of hope that the so-called speech
may not be as long as it is thick. The words may be golden, but the
hearers' (?) eyes are prone to be leaden, and in about one instance out
of a hundred does the perpetrator really deliver an impressive address.
His excuse is his apology--he is not to be blamed, as a rule, for some
one decreed that it would be dangerous to cut loose from manuscript
moorings and take his audience with him on a really delightful sail.
One great trouble on such "great occasions" is that the essayist--for
such he is--has been chosen not because of his speaking ability but
because his grandfather fought in a certain battle, or his constituents
sent him to Congress, or his gifts in some line of endeavor other than
speaking have distinguished him.
As well choose a surgeon from his ability to play golf. To be sure, it
always interests an audience to see a great man; because of his eminence
they are likely to listen to his words with respect, perhaps with
interest, even when droned from a manuscript. But how much more
effective such a deliverance would be if the papers were cast aside!
Nowhere is the read-address so common as in the pulpit--the pulpit, that
in these days least of all can afford to invite a handicap. Doubtless
many clergymen prefer finish to fervor--let them choose: they are rarely
men who sway the masses to acceptance of their message. What they gain
in precision and elegance of language they lose in force.
There are just four motives that can move a man to read his address or
sermon:
1. Laziness is the commonest. Enough said. Even Heaven cannot make a
lazy man efficient.
2. A memory so defective that he really cannot speak without reading.
Alas, he is not speaking when he is reading, so his dilemma is
painful--and not to himself alone. But no man has a right to assume that
his memory is utterly bad until he has buckled down to memory
culture--and failed. A weak memory is oftener an excuse than a reason.
3. A genuine lack of time to do more than write the speech. There are
such instances--but they do not occur every week! The disposition of
your time allows more flexibility than you realize. Motive 3 too often
harnesses up with Motive 1.
4. A conviction that the speech is too important to risk forsaking the
manuscript. But, if it is vital that every word should be so precise,
the style so polished, and the thoughts so logical, that the preacher
must write the sermon entire, is not the message important enough to
warrant extra effort in perfecting its delivery? It is an insult to a
congregation and disrespectful to Almighty God to put the phrasing of a
message above the message itself. To reach the hearts of the hearers the
sermon must be delivered--it is only half delivered when the speaker
cannot utter it with original fire and force, when he merely repeats
words that were conceived hours or weeks before and hence are like
champagne that has lost its fizz. The reading preacher's eyes are tied
down to his manuscript; he cannot give the audience the benefit of his
expression. How long would a play fill a theater if the actors held
their cue-books in hand and read their parts? Imagine Patrick Henry
reading his famous speech; Peter-the-Hermit, manuscript in hand,
exhorting the crusaders; Napoleon, constantly looking at his papers,
addressing the army at the Pyramids; or Jesus reading the Sermon on the
Mount! These speakers were so full of their subjects, their general
preparation had been so richly adequate, that there was no necessity for
a manuscript, either to refer to or to serve as "an outward and visible
sign" of their preparedness. No event was ever so dignified that it
required an _artificial_ attempt at speech making. Call an essay by its
right name, but never call it a speech. Perhaps the most dignified of
events is a supplication to the Creator. If you ever listened to the
reading of an original prayer you must have felt its superficiality.
Regardless of what the theories may be about manuscript delivery, the
fact remains that it does not work out with efficiency. _Avoid it
whenever at all possible._
_Committing the Written Speech and Speaking from Memory_
This method has certain points in its favor. If you have time and
leisure, it is possible to polish and rewrite your ideas until they are
expressed in clear, concise terms. Pope sometimes spent a whole day in
perfecting one couplet. Gibbon consumed twenty years gathering material
for and rewriting the "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire." Although
you cannot devote such painstaking preparation to a speech, you should
take time to eliminate useless words, crowd whole paragraphs into a
sentence and choose proper illustrations. Good speeches, like plays, are
not written; they are rewritten. The National Cash Register Company
follows this plan with their most efficient selling organization: they
require their salesmen to memorize verbatim a selling talk. They
maintain that there is one best way of putting their selling arguments,
and they insist that each salesman use this ideal way rather than employ
any haphazard phrases that may come into his mind at the moment.
The method of writing and committing has been adopted by many noted
speakers; Julius Caesar, Robert Ingersoll, and, on some occasions,
Wendell Phillips, were distinguished examples. The wonderful effects
achieved by famous actors were, of course, accomplished through the
delivery of memorized lines.
The inexperienced speaker must be warned before attempting this method
of delivery that it is difficult and trying. It requires much skill to
make it efficient. The memorized lines of the young speaker will usually
_sound_ like memorized words, and repel.
If you want to hear an example, listen to a department store
demonstrator repeat her memorized lingo about the newest furniture
polish or breakfast food. It requires training to make a memorized
speech sound fresh and spontaneous, and, unless you have a fine native
memory, in each instance the finished product necessitates much labor.
Should you forget a part of your speech or miss a few words, you are