CHAPTER IX

THE COMPOSITION OF AN ORATION

'HE term "composition" as here used applies equally

THE

well whether the oration is written in full or whether it is pronounced without being written. In either case the style of the oration differs in many particulars from that of the essay, which is written for leisurely reading rather than for hearing once for all.

First

The reasons for these differences are twofold. come such differences as naturally belong to spoken as distinguished from written discourse. Second, the causes of these differences are found mainly in the all-important fact that oratory aims at the accomplishment of an object rather than the discussion of a subject and must attain that object in a single utterance, without opportunity, on the part of an audience, of a second reading, of careful analysis, of leisurely consideration, and of nice discrimination and appreciation of the fine distinctions.

Since the oration must accomplish its purpose in a single impression, the orator has laid upon him a peculiarly heavy burden. His speech must be convincing, but not stiff and cold; it must be vivid, but never gaudy; fervid, but never tearful; sincere, but without cant; straightforward, but courteous; imaginative, but never bombastic.

It must be impressive and weighty, but not heavy; vigorous and virile without being brutal-in a word it must be in all ways artistic, but must never be or seem to be artificial. The orator must marshal all his forces and march them, as Webster truly says, "onward, right onward to his object." In a brief speech he has laid upon him, perhaps, the responsibility of changing and directing into new channels the whole current of his hearers' thoughts and lives. Surely, no task heavier than his, no' victory more glorious!

But if special difficulties beset the orator, so, likewise, peculiar advantages are his. He meets his hearers face to face, rather than through the cold, pitiless medium of the printed page. He meets them, also, together, rather than as segregated, separate, unsympathetic individuals. He has the advantage of the flashing eye, the expressive countenance, the thrilling voice, the animated gesture,— all of those advantages arising from what, to conceal our ignorance, we term "personal magnetism."

Until human nature shall change, there need be no fear that oratory will lose its power. The public school and the daily paper cannot destroy or even materially limit its proper field. Books cannot steal its charms. The preacher, the lawyer, the legislator who must advocate measures before parliamentary bodies, the agitator, the reformer, and others whose business it is to set the world to rights, need not be anxious lest increased diffusion of knowledge shall deprive them of their kingdom, or tremble lest they shall be dethroned and left to mourn because,

like Othello," their occupation's gone." So long as men need to change their actions, or, at least, so long as men are not of one opinion as to what action should be in every case, so long will there be opportunity for the exercise of persuasive speech.

A common opinion, it is to be feared, among students and others who have ambition for public speaking, is that orators are born not made. Now this theory sounds well and, within certain limits, it has an element of truth. No one can become a Demosthenes unless he has the gifts of Demosthenes. But there is also in the notion a large factor of error. Those that hold this opinion argue

that one who has the true oratorical spirit, the "divine afflatus," will, when occasion arises, speak effectively and eloquently, whether he have studied the maxims of the rhetoricians or not; while he who has not this heavenborn spirit can never become an orator, though he know the rules of the books from title page to "finis."

This idea is based upon a radical misconception of the nature and purposes of oratorical precepts. These precepts are not arbitrary inventions in which the rhetoricians insist that the would-be speaker shall wrap himself until he is only a mummy of his real self before they will allow him to be called an orator. On the contrary, they are statements of principles which the masters of assemblies of all ages throughout the world have, consciously or unconsciously, exemplified in their speeches. The statements of the principles have been formulated, in other words, because they have been found actually ap

plied and illustrated in the great oratory of the world. These principles must be observed likewise by all who would attain success in this noblest of all arts, and they that do not learn such principles from others must struggle up to them through the great tribulation of personal experience and probably of humiliating failures.

As a matter of fact, orators are both born and made. Call the roll of the immortals among them and you will find that, with hardly an exception, they have been not only men of native genius but equally men of developed power. The story of the long continued study of Demosthenes that he might perfect himself in his art is proverbial. Likewise Aeschines and the other masters of Athenian eloquence gave years of assiduous study in preparation for their art. So with Cicero, the greatest name in the palmy days of Roman eloquence. Among the moderns may be mentioned Burke, Fox, Sheridan, Lord Chatham, Pitt, Bolingbroke, Grattan, Curran; and in America, Clay, Calhoun, Webster, Phillips, Sumner, Seward, Everett, among parliamentary orators; while among preachers shine such names as Beecher, Spurgeon, Alexander Maclaren, Phillips Brooks, Bishop Simpson, and a host of others almost as great. These all " obtained a good report" through a combination of native genius and assiduous toil. They did not despise, they did not consider it wise to ignore, the principles of oratory as set forth in the books. All of them studied, some of them for years, the precepts of effective speech, and everything else that would help to success in making speeches them