DEPARTMENT OF DRAMATIC ART

CHAPTER I

THE SPOKEN WORD

Argument of the Chapter.-Speech is man's surest means of communication, the method whereby he most clearly shows his meanings and intentions. Inasmuch as meaning is revealed by language, voice, and bodily activity, the process of learning and of relearning speech begins with an analysis of thought, language, voice, and action into their component parts.

I. A DIGEST

THE spoken word is perennially vital. Writers abound and wield great influence; the educated world, indulging in much reading and in some writing, gives to reading and writing high rank in the scale of educational attainment. Yet both of these are learned through the spoken word: in all cases speech must precede. Speech also is crucial. When men seek light in a crisis, when the issues of life are sharp, they resort to speech. Writing may well be a distinct mark of schooling, and the ability to read wisely should be a valuable test of the educated man; but men speak twenty times to once that they write. Numbers who speak much and often scarcely write at all, while they read but little. Besides, most of what is read is either accepted inertly or, if questioned for authenticity, affords no easy measures for resolving doubt. When man listens to speaking, however, he has a definite guide; he can look the speaker in the eye, study his face, watch his actions and bearing, analyze his voice, penetrate into the man himself, ascertain his motives, and then know whether or not to accept him as worthy of credence.

This is the reason why, when men really care, when an issue is deeply at stake and a crisis impends, they resort not so much to the writer as to the speaker. The page is

impersonal, but the speaker is a living personality. Words without sound of the voice and sight of the man who utters them can easily be words and nothing more. A literary juggler can manipulate verbiage on paper so cleverly that he who reads, lacking the image of the man who writes or the perception of his emotional temper at the time of writing, will lose completely the intimate evidence that would tell him whether or not such a one is to be trusted. Only the most skilled writers can reveal themselves; while most speakers reveal their true selves the moment they are seen. A speech, a talk, a conversation, is always and must be much more than words; the sight alone of the man speaking reveals much. More yet is disclosed by the quality and the energy of his voice. The very man himself is laid bare by speech, not his words alone.

So whenever men are greatly in earnest, whenever they desire the truth and the truth fairly, they gather in groups to talk, listen, and observe. By no possible intensifying of writing and reading can man ever satisfy or supplant his desire to forgather with his kind, look his fellow in the eye, speak and listen, personality to personality, heart to heart, soul to soul. The spoken word is as much more vital and valuable than the written word as a telephone conversation is more satisfactory than a telegram, or a conversation than a letter and for the very same reasons.

But not everybody who speaks speaks well. It is even safe to say that the great majority of speakers-of conversers, talkers, and public speakers-speak poorly. The delightful conversationalist, the inspiring and instructive talker, the effective public speaker, are truly rare. When we find one we mark him and take him to our hearts. And so it happens that for the very reason that speech cannot by any possibility be a matter of indifference either to our commonplace affairs or to our crucial moments, we have come into the way of decrying all poor speaking by an attendant exaltation of writing. Speech is so vital a thing that when it fails the loss is great enough to cause distress. Consequently, in the presence of the mumbler, the droner, and

the mouther of words, men are disappointed and pained. Bankruptcy in speech is a solemn affliction because speech is the crowning achievement of human mind and the very cementing principle of civilization.

II. THE FOUR PHASES OF SPEECH

A man speaking is four things, all of them needed in revealing his mind to others. First, he is a will, an intention, a meaning which he wishes others to have: a thought. Second, he is a user of language, molding thought and feeling into words. Third, he is a thing to be heard, carrying his purpose and words to others through voice. Last, he is a thing to be seen, shown to the sight, a being of action to be noted and read through the eye.

If all desires and meanings were bare and openly revealed, there could be no need for language; if language were always clear and frank, there could be little import to voice; and if voice were always true and strong, there could be little value to the outward show. But outward show often belies voice, voice hides words, and words often becloud meaning. Rare is the man who can stand before his fellows and look, speak, say, and be a single bearer of the truth-which is himself. At some point on the line from meaning to action there will be breaks and faults. So it is that most men have need of training in speech: a fourfold need, because the nature of speaking is in turn fourfold.

In value these four rank in the order shown. The best is to represent sincere meaning, next is to master words, third is to control voice, and last is to govern the outer manner. Seldom is any of these perfect: manner can be deceitful, voice can tell what is not so, words can hide thought, while meaning can be devious and base. Yet meaning is the inner reality.

As revealed to men, meaning can thus be withheld from the listener by three bars, and these bars are met in the reverse order from their value. A man speaking is first seen, then heard, then understood, then known for what he is. If he looks what he is not, a bar stands in the way of voice, words, and meaning; if, while looking what he is, he

still is not what his voice speaks, a bar is yet in the way of language and meaning; finally, even if he looks and speaks aright he may yet use words at fault, and still a bar will lie across the path to meaning. First men see, then hear, then understand.

In this same sequence also the child learns to speak. He first reveals his wishes to others best by outward signs, then by the sound of his voice, and last by his use of words. In the same order also he learns to understand the will of others: first from what he sees, then from what he hears, and last from what he knows of words.

The grown man who must study speaking has to relearn; in order to relearn well he must follow nature's steps: first to master his action, then his voice, next his words, and last his inner meaning. Body can ruin voice, voice can violate language, and language can hide meaning; for body controls voice-not voice, body; voice enriches language-not language, voice; language illuminates meaning-not meaning, language. Meaning, if it could be conceived alone, would be mute, inarticulate. Therefore, if you would mend speaking so as to reveal meaning, first master the body and thus open the way to voice; next master voice and thus open the way to language; last master language and thus open the way to meaning.

In fine, meaning wears three coats; to cause it to stand revealed they must be removed in order from the outside inward. Hence the steps in speech training, especially in relearning, are: (1) study of action; (2) study of voice and oral expression; (3) study of language and composition, and (4) study of impulses, desires, and wishesmeanings.

III. CONSCIOUS ANALYSIS

This is not solely a book for those who must learn, but for those who must also relearn. To learn speech at the first one operates for the most part subconsciously, as do children learning; to relearn, one is driven to analyze and criticize, to dissect and scrutinize, to study with full consciousness and for a long period of time.