Delsarte System of Oratory

Chapter I.
Origin and Organic Apparatus of Language.

Man reveals his life through more than four millions of inflections ere he can speak or gesticulate. When he begins to reason, to make abstractions, the vocal apparatus and gesture are insufficient; he must speak, he must give his thought an outside form so that it may be appreciated and transmitted through the senses. There are things which can be expressed neither by sound nor gesture. For instance, how shall we say at the same time of a plant: "It is beautiful, but it has no smell." Thought must then be revealed by conventional signs, which are articulation. Therefore, God has endowed man with the rich gift of speech.

Speech is the sense of the intelligence; sound the sense of the life, and gesture that of the heart.

Soul communicates with soul only through the senses. The senses are the condition of man as a pilgrim on this earth. Man is obliged to materialize all: the sensations through the voice, the sentiments through gesture, the ideas through speech. The means of transmission are always material. This is why the church has sacraments, an exterior worship, chants, ceremonies. All its institutions arise from a principle eminently philosophical.

Speech is formed by three agents: the lips, the tongue and the soft-palate.

It is delightful to study the special rôle of these agents, the reason of their movements.

They have a series of gestures that may be perfectly understood. Thus language resembles the hand, having also its gesture.

Chapter II.
Elements of Articulate Language.

Every language is composed of consonants and vowels. These consonants and vowels are gestures. The value of the consonant is the gesture of the thing expressed. But as gesture is always the expression of a moral fact, each consonant has the intrinsic character of a movement of the heart. It is easy to prove that the consonant is a gesture. For example, in articulating it, the tongue rises to the palate and makes the same movement as the arm when it would repel something.

The elements of all languages have the same meaning. The vowels correspond directly to the moral state.

There is diversity of language because the things we wish to express vary from difference in usage and difference of manner and climate. What we call a shoe, bears among northern people a name indicating that it protects the feet from the cold; among southern people it protects the feet from the heat. Elsewhere the shoe protects the feet against the roughness of the soil; and in yet other places, it exists only as a defensive object--a weapon.

These diverse interpretations require diverse signs. This does not prove the diversity of language, but the diversity of the senses affected by the same object.

Things are perceived only after the fashion of the perceiver, and this is why the syllables vary among different peoples.

Nevertheless, there is but one language. We find everywhere these words: I an active personality, me a passive personality, and mine an awarding personality. In every language we find the subject, the verb and the adjective.

Every articulate language is composed of substantive, adjective and copulative ideas.

All arts are found in articulation. Sound is the articulation of the vocal apparatus; gesture the articulation of the dynamic apparatus; language the articulation of the buccal apparatus. Therefore, music, the plastic arts and speech have their origin and their perfection in articulation.

It is, then, of the utmost importance to understand thoroughly the elements of speech, which is at the same time a vocalization and a dynamic. Without this knowledge no oratorical art is possible.

Let us now hasten to take possession of the riches of speech.

Chapter III.
The Oratorical Value of Speech.

The privilege of speech may be considered under a double aspect, in itself and in its relations to the art of oratory.

1. In Itself.--Speech is the most wonderful gift of the Creator. Through speech man occupies the first rank in the scale of being. It is the language of the reason, and reason lifts man above every creature. Man through speech incarnates his mind to unite himself with his fellow-men, as the Son of God was incarnated to unite with human nature; like the Son of God who nourishes humanity with his body in the eucharist, so man makes his speech understood by multitudes who receive it entire, without division or diminution.

Eternal thanks to God for this ineffable gift, so great in itself, of such value in the art of oratory!

2. What is the oratorical value of speech? In oratorical art, speech plays a subordinate but indispensable rôle.

Let us examine separately the two members of this proposition.

A.--In the hierarchy of oratorical powers, speech comes only in the third order. In fact, the child begins to utter cries and to gesticulate before he speaks.

The text is only a label. The sense lies not in speech, but in inflection and gesture. Nature institutes a movement, speech names the movement. Writing is a dead letter.

Speech is only the title of that which gesture has announced; speech comes only to confirm what is already understood by the auditors.

We are moved in reading, not so much by what is said, as by the manner of reading. It is not what we hear that affects us, but that which we ourselves imagine.

An author cannot fully express his ideas in writing; hence the interpretation of the hearer is often false, because he does not know the writer.

It is remarkable, the way in which we refer everything to ourselves. We must needs create a semblance of it. We are affected by a discourse because we place the personage in a situation our fancy has created. Hence it happens that we may be wrong in our interpretation, and that the author might say: "This is not my meaning."

In hearing a symphony we at once imagine a scene, we give it an aspect; this is why it affects us.

A written discourse requires many illustrative epithets; in a spoken discourse, the adjectives may be replaced by gesture and inflection.

Imitation is the melody of the eye, inflection is the melody of the ear. All that strikes the eye has a sound; this is why the sight of the stars produces an enchanting melody in our souls.

Hence in a discourse, speech is the letter, and it is inflection and gesture which give it life. Nevertheless:--

B.--The rôle of speech, although subordinate, is not only important, but necessary. In fact, human language, as we have said, is composed of inflection, gesture and speech.

Language would not be complete without speech. Speech has nothing to do with sentiment, it is true, but a discourse is not all sentiment; there is a place for reason, for demonstration, and upon this ground gesture has nothing to do; the entire work here falls back upon speech.

Speech is the crown of oratorical action; it is this which gives the final elucidation, which justifies gesture. Gesture has depicted the object, the Being, and speech responds: God.

Chapter IV.
The Value of Words in Phrases.

Expression is very difficult. One may possess great knowledge and lack power to express it. Eloquence does not always accompany intellect. As a rule, poets do not know how to read what they have written. Hence we may estimate the importance of understanding the value of the different portions of a discourse. Let us now examine intellectual language in relation to intensity of ideas.

There are nine species of words, or nine species of ideas. The article need not be counted, since it is lacking in several languages. It is the accord of nine which composes the language, and which corresponds to the numbers. Every word has a determinate, mathematical value.

As many unities must be reckoned on the initial consonant as there are values in the word.

Thus the subject has less value than the attribute.

The attribute has a value of six degrees and represents six times the intensity of the subject. Why? Because God has willed that we should formulate our idea with mathematical intensities.

The value rests only upon the initial consonant of the word. Words have only one expressive portion, that is, the initial consonant. It receives the whole value, and is the invariable part of the word. It is the root. Words are transformed in passing from language to language, and nevertheless retain their radical.

How shall we say that a flower is charming?

Do not demand of intensity of sound a value it does not possess. It suffices to await the articulation of the consonant.

The most normal phenomena remain true to mechanical laws. The mere articulation of the word expresses more than all the vocal and imitative effects that can be introduced.

Most speakers dwell upon the final word; this habit is absolutely opposed to the nature of heart movements. This school habit is hard to correct, and if Rachel became a great artiste, it was because she did not have this precedent.

The subject represents one degree; it is the weakest expression.

The verb represents two degrees; the attribute six. Let us illustrate the manner of passing from one to six as follows:

A rustic comes to visit you upon some sort of business. This man has a purpose. As you are a musician he is surprised by his first sight of a piano. He says to himself: "What is this? It is a singular object."

It is neither a table nor a cupboard. He now perceives the ivory keys and other keys of ebony. What can this mean? He stands confounded before an instrument entirely new to him. If it were given to him, he would not know what to do with it; he might burn it. The piano interests him so much that he forgets the object of his visit.

He sees you arrive. You occupy for him the place of the verb in relation to the object which interests him. He passes from this object to you. Although you are not the object which engrosses him, there is a progression in the interest, because he knows that through you he will learn what this piece of furniture is. "Tell me what this is!" he cries.

You strike the piano; it gives forth an accord. O heavens, how beautiful! He is greatly moved, he utters many expressions of delight, and now he would not burn the instrument.

Here is a progression. At first the piece of furniture interests him; then its owner still more; at last the attributes of the piano give it its entire value.

But why six degrees upon the last term? The value of a fact comes from its limitation; the knowledge of an idea also proceeds from its limitation. A fact in its general and vague expression, awakens but little interest. But as it descends from the genus to the species, from the species to the individual, it grows more interesting. It comes more within our capacity. We do not embrace the vast circle of a generic fact.

Let us take another proposition: "A flower is pleasing."

The word flower alone says nothing to the imagination. Is it a rose or a lily of the valley? The expression is too vague. When the idea of genus is modified by that of species, we are better satisfied.

Let us say: "The flower of the forest." This word forest conveys an idea to the mind. We can make our bouquet. We think of the lily of the valley, of the violet, the anemone, the periwinkle. This restriction gives value to the subject. Forest is more important than the verb which does not complete the idea, and less important than pleasing. Therefore we place 3 upon forest, and shall rank pleasing from 3 to 4, since it closes the assertion.

If we individualize by the word this, we augment the value by giving actuality to the word flower. This has more value than the forest, because it designates the subject. Hence this has four degrees.

As pleasing forms the very essence of our proposition, we are obliged to give it five degrees.

The idea is still somewhat vague. If I specify it still further by saying this little flower, little has a higher value than all the other words.

What value shall we give this adjective? We have reached five, but have not yet fully expressed the idea which impresses us. Little must therefore have six degrees.

This is the sole law for all the languages of the world. There are no two ways of articulating the words of a discourse. When we learn a discourse by heart in order to deliver it, and take no account of the value of the terms, the divine law is reversed.

Now, if we could introduce an expression here, which would at once enhance the value of the word pleasing, it would evidently be stronger than all the others. In fact, if the way in which a thing is pleasing can be expressed, it is evident that this manner of being pleasing will rise above the word itself.

We do not know the proportion in which the flower is pleasing. We will say that it is very pleasing. This adverb gives the word pleasing a new value. It is in turn modified. If we should say immensely, or use any other adverb of quantity, the value would remain the same. It would still be a modification. Thus, when we say of God that he is good, immense, infinite, there is always a limitation attached to the idea of God,--a limitation necessary to our nature. For God is not good in the way we understand goodness or greatness; but our finite minds need some expression for our idea.

We see the word pleasing modified in turn, and the term which modifies it, is higher than itself. Very pleasing,--what value shall we give it? We can give it no more than seven here.

A single word may obliterate the effect produced by all these expressions. A simple conjunction may be introduced which will entirely modify all we have taken pains to say. It is a but. But is an entire discourse. We no longer believe what has been said hitherto, but what follows this word. This conjunction has a value of eight degrees, a value possible to all conjunctions without exception. It sums up the changes indicated by subsequent expressions, and embraces them synthetically. It has, then, a very great oratorical value.

The Conjunction.

1. We refer here only to conjunctions in the elliptical sense. The conjunction is an ellipse, because it is the middle term between two members of the sentence which are the extremes; it recalls what has just been said, and indicates what is to come. Considered in itself, the word and, when elliptical, embraces what has just been said, and what is about to be said. All this is founded upon the principle that the means are equal to the extremes.

2. The copulative or enumerative conjunctions, have only two degrees. We see that a conjunction is not elliptical when, instead of uniting propositions, it unites only ideas of the same character.

3. Determinative conjunctions have only three degrees. For example: "It is necessary that I should work." That has only three degrees.

4. The values indicated can be changed only by additional values justified by gesture. Thus in the phrase: "This medley of glory and honor,"--the value of the word medley can and must be changed; but a gesture is necessary, for speech is only a feeble echo of gesture. Only gesture can justify a value other than that indicated in this demonstration. This value is purely grammatical, but the gesture may give it a superlative idea, which we call additional value. The value of consonants may vary in the pronunciation according to their valuation by the speakers.

More or less value is given to the degrees noted and to be noted, as there is more or less emotion in the speaker. This explains why a gesture, which expresses an emotion of the soul, justifies changing the grammatical value in the pronunciation of consonants.

5. Even aside from additional values, the gesture must always precede the articulation of the initial consonant. Otherwise to observe the degree would be supremely ridiculous. The speaker would resemble a skeleton, a statue. The law of values becomes vital only through gesture and inflection. Stripped of the poetry of gesture and inflection, the application of the law is monstrous.

To place six degrees upon pleasing without gesture, is abominable.

We now understand the spirit of gesture, which is given to man to justify values. It is for him to decide whether the proposition is true or not. If we deprive our discourse of gestures, no way is left to prove the truth of values. Thus gesture is prescribed by certain figures, and we shall now see from a proposition, how many gestures are needed, and to what word the gesture should be given.

The Conjunction Continued--Various Examples.

The degree of value given to the conjunction, may be represented by the figure 8.

Let us justify this valuation by citing these two lines of Racine:

"The wave comes on, it breaks, and vomits
'neath our eyes,
Amid the floods of foam, a monster
grim and dire."

The ordinary reader would allow the conjunction and to pass unperceived, because the word is not sonorous, and we accord oratorical effects only to sonorous words. But the man who sees the meaning fully, and who adds and, has said the whole. The other words are important, but everything is implied in this conjunction.

Racine has not placed and here to disjoin, but to unite.

We give another example of the conjunction:

Augustus says to Cinna:

"Take a chair Cinna, and in all things heed
Strictly the law that I lay down for thee."

Let us suppress the isolation and silence of the conjunction, and there is no more color.

Augustus adds:

"Hold thy tongue captive, and if silence deep
To thy emotion do some violence"--

Suppress the silence and isolation of the conjunction and, and how poor is the expression!

In the fable of "The Wolf and the Dog:"

"Sire wolf would gladly have attacked and slain
him, but it would have been necessary to give battle, and it was now almost morning."

The entire significance lies in the silence which follows the conjunctions.

We speak of a sympathetic conjunction, and also of one denoting surprise or admiration; but this conjunction differs from the interjection, only in this respect: it rests upon the propositions and unites its terms. Like the interjection, it is of a synthetic and elliptic nature; it groups all the expressions it unites as interjectives. It is, then, from this point of view, exclamative.

In the fable of "The Wolf and the Lamb," the wolf says:

"This must be some one of your own race, for
you would not think of sparing me, you shepherds and you dogs."

Here is an interjective conjunction. Suppress the complaint after for, and there is no more effect. The conjunction is the soul of the discourse.

In the exclamation in "Joseph Sold by his Brethren," we again find an interjective conjunction.

"Alas.......... and
The ingrates who would sell me!"

Here the conjunction and yields little to the interjection alas. It has fully as much value.

The Interjection in Relation to its Degree of Value.

The interjection has 9 degrees; this is admirably suited to the interjection, an elliptical term which comprises the three terms of a proposition. In summing up the value of a simple proposition, we have (a noteworthy thing) the figure 9. This gives the accord of 9. The subject 1, the verb 2, and 6 upon the attribute, equal 9. Thus the equation is perfect.

Gesture is the rendering of the ellipse. Gesture is the elliptical language given to man to express what speech is powerless to say.

We have spoken of additional figures. Each of these figures supposes a gesture. There is a gesture, an imitative expression wherever there is an additional figure. An ellipse in a word, such as is met with in the conjunction and the interjection, demands a gesture.

9 is a neutral term which must be sustained by gesture and inflection. Gesture would be the inflection of the deaf, inflection the gesture of the blind. The orator should, in fact, address himself to the deaf as well as to the blind. Gesture and inflection should supplement physical and mental infirmities, and God in truth has given man this double means of expression. There is also a triple expression, which is double in view of this same modification of speech. Let us suppose this proposition:

"How much pain I suffer in hearing!"

According to the rules laid down, we have 3 upon pain, 6 upon suffer, and 6 again upon hearing.

It is said that Talma brought out the intensity of his suffering by resting on the word pain. This was wrong. We should always seek the expression equivalent to that employed, to attain a certain value.

If, instead of the determinate conjunction that, we should have how much (combien), this would evidently be the important word. This word has an elliptical form. It evidently belongs to a preceding proposition. It means: "I could not express all that I suffer." Then 6 must be placed upon how much and not upon pain.

But the figure 6 here is a thermometer which indicates a degree of vitality; it does not express the degree of vitality; that is reserved for gesture. We need not ask what degree this can give; its office is to express--and this is a good deal--a value mechanical and material, but very significant. A reversion of values may constitute a falsehood. Stage actors are sometimes indefinably comic in this way.

A Resumé of the Degrees of Value.

To crown this unprecedented study upon language, we give in a table, a resumé of the different degrees of value in the various parts of a discourse, relative to the initial consonant.

The pronoun is either subject or complement, and therefore included in the rest. As for the article, it is not essential to a language; there is no article in Latin.

Thus the value of our ideas is expressed by figures. We have only to reckon on our fingers. We might beat time for the pronunciation of the consonants as for the notes of music. Let the pupil exercise his fingers, and attain that skill which allows the articulation of a radical consonant only after he has marked with his finger the time corresponding to its figure. If difficulties present themselves at first, so much the better; he will only the more accurately distinguish the value of the words.

Chapter V.
French and Latin Prosody.

French Prosody.

Prosody is the rhythmic pronunciation of syllables according to accent, respiration, and, above all, quantity.

In the Italian there are no two equal sounds; the quantity is never uniform. Italian is, therefore, the most musical of languages. Where we place one accent upon a vowel, the Italians place ten.

There is a euphonic law for every language; all idioms must have an accent. In every language there are intense sounds and subdued sounds; the Italians hold to this variety of alternate short and long sounds. Continuous beauty should be avoided. A beautiful tone must be introduced to relieve the others. Monotony in sounds as well as in pronunciation, must be guarded against. Harmony lies in opposition.

There is but one rule of quantity in French pronunciation. Here is the text of this law:

There are and can be only long initial or final vowels--whence we conclude:

1. Every final is long and every penultimate is final, since e mute is not pronounced.

2. The length of initial vowels depends upon the value of the initial consonants which they precede.

A word cannot contain two long vowels unless it begins with a vowel. In this case, the vowel of the preceding word is long, and prepares for the enunciation of the consonant according to its degree.

Every first consonant in a word is strong, as it constitutes the radical or invariable part of the word.

The force of this consonant is subordinate to the ruling degree of the idea it is called to decide. But every vowel which precedes this first consonant is long, since it serves as a preparation for it. But to what degree of length may this initial vowel be carried? The representative figure of the consonant will indicate it.

Usually, the first consonant of every word is radical. Still there might be other radical consonants in the same word. But the first would rise above the others.

The radical designates the substance of being, and the last consonant the manner.

The whole secret of expression lies in the time we delay the articulation of the initial consonant. This space arrests the attention and prevents our catching the sound at a disadvantage.

Latin Prosody.

1. The final of a word of several syllables is usually short.

2. In words of two syllables, the first is long. In Latin words of two syllables, the first almost always contains the radical.

3. In words of three and more syllables, there is one long syllable: sometimes the first, sometimes another. We rest only upon this, all the others being counted more or less short.

In compound words no account need be made of prefixes; There are many compound words; and, consequently, it is often the last or next to the last consonant which is the radical.

The last consonant represents always, in variable words, quality, person, mode or time. The radical, on the contrary, represents the sum and substance.

4. Monosyllables are long, but they have, especially when they follow each other, particular rules, which result from the sense of the phrases, and from the mutual dependence of words.

Chapter VI.
Method.

Dictation Exercises.

A subject and text being given, notes may be written under the nine following heads:

1. Oratorical value of ideas.
2. The ellipse.
3. Vocal inflections.
4. Inflective affinities, or relation to the preceding inflections.
5. Gestures.
6. Imitative affinities.
7. The special rule for each gesture.
8. The law whence this rule proceeds.
9. Reflections upon the portrayal of personal character.

Chapter VII.
A Series of Gestures for Exercises.

Preliminary Reflections.

We know the words of Garrick:

"I do not confide in myself, not I, in that inspiration for which idle mediocrity waits."

Art, then, presents a solid basis to the artist, upon which he can rest and reproduce at will the history of the human heart as revealed by gesture.

This is true, and it is as an application of this truth that we are about to consider the series, which is an exposition of the passions that agitate man, an initiation into imitative language. It is a poem, and at the same time it lays down rules through whose aid the self-possessed artist can regain the gesture which arises from sudden perturbation of the heart. It is a grammar which must be studied incessantly, in order to understand the origin and value of imitative expressions.

The development of the series is based upon the static, the semeiotic and the dynamic.

The static is the life of gesture; it is the science of the equipoise of levers, it teaches the weight of the limbs and the extent of their development, in order to maintain the equilibrium of the body. Its criterion should be a sort of balance.

The semeiotic is the spirit and rationale of gesture. It is the science of signs.

The dynamic is the action of equiponderant forces through the static; it regulates the proportion of movements the soul would impress upon the body. The foundation and criterion of the dynamic, is the law of the pendulum.

The series proceeds, resting upon these three powers. The semeiotic has given the signs, it becomes æsthetic in applying them. The semeiotic says: "Such a gesture reveals such a passion;" and gesture replies: "To such a passion I will apply such a sign." And without awaiting the aid of an inspiration often hazardous, deceitful and uncertain, it moulds the body to its will, and forces it to reproduce the passion the soul has conceived. The semeiotic is a science, the æsthetic an act of genius.

The series divides its movements into periods of time, in accordance with the principle that the more time a movement has, the more its vitality and power; and so every articulation becomes the object of a time.

The articulations unfold successively and harmoniously. Every articulation which has no action, must remain absolutely pendent, or become stiff. Grace is closely united to gesture; the manifold play of the articulations which constitutes strength, also constitutes grace. Grace subdues only because sustained by strength, and because strength naturally subdues. Grace without strength is affectation.

Every vehement movement must affect the vertical position, because obliquity deprives the movement of force, by taking from it the possibility of showing the play of the articulations.

The demonstration of movement is in the head. The head is the primary agent of movement; the body is the medium agent, the arm the final agent.

Three agents in gesture are especially affected in characterizing the life, mind and soul. The thumb is the index-sign of life; the shoulder is the sign of passion and sentiment; the elbow is the sign of humility, pride, power, intelligence and sacrifice.

The first gesture of the series is the interpellation, the entrance upon the scene. The soul is scarce moved as yet, and still this is the most difficult of gestures, because the most complex. It must indicate the nature of the interpellation, its degree and the situation of the giver and receiver of the summons in regard to each other.

A study of the signs which distinguish these different shades will teach us the analysis of gesture.

Aside from simple interpellation, the series passes successively from gratitude, devotion, etc., to anger, menace and conflict, leaving the soul at the point where it is subdued and asks forgiveness.

The passional or fugitive type forms the constant subject of the study of this series.

The Series of Gestures Applied to the Sentiments Oftenest Expressed by the Orator.

First Gesture.
Interpellation.

Interpellation embraces five steps:

The first consists in elevating the shoulder in token of affection. If the right shoulder, as in figure 2 with the right leg weak.

The second step consists in a rotary movement of the arm, its object being to present the epicondyle (elbow-joint) to the interlocutor. For this reason the epicondyle is called the eye of the arm.

The third stage consists in substituting the articulation of the wrist for the epicondyle. In making the forward movement of the body, the epicondyle must resume its natural place.

The fourth step consists in extending the hand toward the speaker in such a way as to present to him the extremities of the fingers.

The fifth step is formed by a rapid rotation of the hand.

Second Gesture.
Thanks--Affectionate and Ceremonious.

This gesture consists of six steps:

1. Consists in lifting the hand and lowering the head.

2. Consists in raising the hand to the hip.

3. The head inclines to one side, and the elbow at the same time rises to aid the hand in reaching the lips.

4. In this, the head resumes its normal position, while the elbow is lowered to bring back the hand to the same position.

5. In this, the hand passes from the horizontal to the vertical position, rounding toward the arm.

6. In this, the arm is developed, and then the hand.

Third Gesture.
Attraction.

In this gesture there are three steps:

1. The hand turns toward the interlocutor with an appealing aspect.

2. The hand opens like a fan with the little finger tending toward the chest.

3. The elbow is turned outward, and the hand passes toward the breast.

Fourth Gesture.
Surprise and Assurance.

1. This consists in elevating the shoulders, opening the eyes and mouth and raising the eyebrow; the whole in token of surprise.

2. Raise the passive hand above the chin, making it turn around the wrist.

3. The hand still passive, is directed toward the person addressed, the elbow being pressed against the body.

4. The arm is gradually extended toward the person addressed, while the hand is given an opposite direction; that is, the palm of the hand is toward him.

Fifth Gesture.
Devotion.

This gesture embraces seven movements:

1. This consists in raising the passive hand to the level of the other hand, but in an inverse direction.

2. This consists in turning back the hand toward one's self.

3. This consists in drawing the elbows to the body, and placing the hands on the chest.

4. This is produced by taking a step backward, and turning a third to one side; during the execution of this step, the elbows are raised, and the head is lowered.

5. This consists in drawing the elbows near the body, and placing the hands above the shoulders.

6. This consists in developing the arms.

7. This consists in developing the hands.

Sixth Gesture.
Interrogative Surprise.

This surprise is expressed in two movements:

1. This is wholly facial.

2. This is made by advancing the hand and drawing the head backward.

Seventh Gesture.
Reiterated Interrogation.

This gesture signifies: I do not understand, I cannot explain your conduct to me. It embraces five steps:

1. This consists in placing both hands beneath the chin, and violently elevating the shoulders.

2. This consists in bringing the hands to the level of the chest, as if in search of something there.

3. This consists in extending both hands toward the interlocutor, as if to show him that they contain nothing.

4. This consists in extending one hand in the opposite direction, and letting the head and body follow the hand.

5. This consists in turning the head vehemently toward the interlocutor, and suddenly lowering the shoulders.

Eighth Gesture.
Anger.

This gesture is made in three movements:

1. This consists in raising the arm.

2. This consists in catching hold of the sleeve.

3. This consists in carrying the clenched hand to the breast, and drawing back the other arm.

Ninth Gesture.
Menace.

This gesture consists of a preparatory movement, which is made by lowering the hand while the arm is outstretched toward the interlocutor, then the finger is extended, and the hand is outstretched in menace.

The eye follows the finger as it would follow a pistol; this occasions a reversal of the head proportional to that of the hand.

Tenth Gesture.
An Order for Leaving.

This is executed:

1. By turning around on the free limb.

2. By carrying the body with it.

3. By executing a one-fifth sideward movement--the right leg very weak. All these movements are made by retaining the gesture of the preceding menace. Then only the menacing hand is turned inward at the height of the eye, at the moment when it is about to pass the line occupied by the head; the elbow is raised to allow the hand a downward movement, which ends in an indication of departure. In this indication the hand is absolutely reversed, that is, it is in pronation. Then only does the head, which has hitherto been lowered, rise through the opposition of the extended arm.

Eleventh Gesture.
Reiteration.

1. The whole body tends toward the hand which is posed above the head. The right leg passes from weak to strong.

2. The head is turned backward toward the interlocutor.

3. It rises.

4. The arm extends.

5. The hand in supination gives intimation of the order.

Twelfth Gesture.
Fright.

The right hand pendent. The left hand rises. Tremor.

The first movement is executed in one-third; the body gently passes into the fourth, and as the fifth is being accomplished, the arm is thrust forward as if to repel the new object of terror.

At this moment a metamorphose seems to take place, and the object which had occasioned the fright, seems to be transfigured and to become the subject of an affectionate impulse. The hands extend toward this object not to repel it, but to implore it to remain; it seems to become more and more ennobled, and to assume in the astonished eyes of the actor, a celestial form--it is an angel. Therefore the body recoils anew one-fourth; the hands fall back in token of acquiescence; then, while drawing near the body, they extend anew toward the angel (here a third in token of affection and veneration). Then a prayer is addressed to it, and again the arms extend toward it in entreaty. (Here the orator falls upon his knees.)

The series can be executed beginning with the right arm or the left, being careful to observe the initial and principal movement, with the arms at the side where the scene opened. This gives the same play of organs only in an inverse sense.

Important Remarks.

Should any student despair of becoming familiar with our method, we give him three pieces of advice, all easy of application:

1. Never speak without having first expressed what you would say by gesture. Gesture must always precede speech.

2. Avoid parallelism of gesture. The opposition of the agents is necessary to equilibrium, to harmony.

3. Retain the same gesture for the same sentiment. In saying the same thing the gesture should not be changed.

Should the student limit himself to the application of these three rules, he will not regret this study of the

Practice of the Art of Oratory.

Appendix.
The Symbolism of Colors Applied to the Art of Oratory.

We close this book with an appendix which will serve for ornament. Before delivering up a suite of rooms, we are wont to embellish them with rich decorations. Architects usually color their plans. We also wish to give color to our criterion, by explaining the symbolism of colors.

In the literary world, color gives forms of speech consecrated by frequent usage. Thus we very often say: a florid style, a brilliant orator. This figurative language signifies that in order to shine, the orator must be adorned with the lustre of flowers. And as one flower excels others and pleases us by the beauty of its colors, so the orator must excel, and please by the brilliant shades of his diction. It is as impossible to give renown to a monotonous and colorless orator as to a faded, discolored flower. Would you give to the phenomena of your organism this beautiful corolla of the flower of your garden, throw your glance upon nature.

Nature speaks to the eye through an enchanting variety of colors, and these colors in turn teach man how he may himself speak to the eyes. The whole man might recognize himself under the smiling emblem of colors. Imagine him in whatever state you will, a color will give you the secret of his aspirations. And so it has been easy for us to show you the orator imaged in this colored chart, and we shall have no trouble in justifying our choice of colors.

Since man, as to his soul, presents himself in three states: the sensitive, intellectual and moral; and in his organism in the eccentric, concentric and normal states; a priori, you may conclude that nature has three colors to symbolize the three states, and experience will not contradict you.

In fact, red, yellow and blue are the primitive colors. All others are derived from these three rudimentary colors.

Why have we painted the column that corresponds to the life red? Because red is the color of blood, and the life is in the blood. But life is the fountain of strength and power. Hence red is the proper symbol of strength and power in God, in man and in the demon.

Why blue in the column of the concentric state, the mind? Because blue, from its transparency, is most soothing to our eyes.

Why yellow in the column of the soul? Because yellow has the color of flame; it is the true symbol of a soul set on fire by love. Yellow is, then, the emblem of pure love and of impure flames.

Why not use white in our chart? Because white is incandescence in the highest degree. We say of iron that it is at a red or a white heat. But in this world it is rare to see a heart at a white heat. Earthly thermometers do not mark this degree of heat.

It cannot be denied that red, yellow and blue are the three elementary colors, whose union gives birth to all the varieties that delight our eyes. We have proof of this in one of nature's most beautiful phenomena--the rainbow.

The rainbow is composed of seven colors. Here we distinguish the red, yellow and blue in all their purity; then from the fusion of these three primary colors, we have violet, orange, green and indigo.

This is the order in which the seven colors of the rainbow appear to us:

Violet (red}, orange (yellow), green (blue), indigo. Orange is composed of yellow and red. Yellow mixed with blue, produces green. Blue when saturated, becomes indigo. Upon closer investigation, we may easily find the nine shades which correspond perfectly to the nine operations of our faculties, and to the nine functions of angelic minds.

By complicating and blending the mixture of these colors, we shall have all the tints that make nature so delightful a paradise.

The seven notes of music sound in accord with the seven colors of the rainbow. There is a brotherhood between the seven notes and the seven colors.

The voice-apparatus, with that of speech and gesture, is for the orator a pallet like that upon which the painter prepares and blends those colors which, under the brush of a Raphael, would at once glow forth in a masterpiece.

Delsarte's criterion is true; still more, it is beautiful, especially so with its brilliant adornment of the colors of the rainbow.

We verify our judgment by an explanation of the colored chart.

As may be seen, this chart is an exact reproduction of the criterion explained at the beginning of this book, only we have adorned it with colors analogous to the different states of the soul that art is called upon to reproduce.

Beginning with the three transverse columns corresponding to the genus, we have painted the lower column red, the middle column yellow, and the upper one blue. These are the three colors that symbolize the life, soul and mind, as well as the genera.

Passing to the vertical columns which correspond to species, we have painted the first column red, the second yellow, and the third blue, passing from left to right. The blending of these colors produces the variety of shades we might have in this representation.

Blue added to blue gives indigo; blue with yellow gives a deep green; with red, violet. Yellow passed over to the middle column, gives bright green upon blue; pure yellow, when passed upon yellow, and orange upon red.

Thus pure red will be the expression of the sensitive state or the life. Orange will render soul from life, and violet will be the symbol of mind from life.

Applying this process of examination to the two other columns, we shall know by one symbolic color, what the soul wishes at the present hour, and these same colors will, besides, serve to regulate the attitude of our organs.

Honor and thanks to the genius which gives us this criterion, where is reflected the harmony of all worlds!

Epilogue.

In this rational grammar of the art of oratory, I have given the rules of all the fine arts. All arts have the same principle, the same means and the same end. They are akin, they interpenetrate, they mutually aid and complete each other. They have a common scope and aim. Thus, music needs speech and gesture. Painting and sculpture derive their merit from the beauty of attitudes. There is no masterpiece outside the rules here laid down.

It is not enough to know the rules of the art of oratory. He who would become an orator, must make them his own. Even this is not enough for the free movement of the agents which reveal the mind, the soul and the life. The method must be so familiar as to seem a second nature. Woe to the orator if calculation and artifice be divined in his speech! How shun this quicksand? By labor and exercise. The instruments and the manner of using them are in your hands, student of oratory. Set about your work. Practice gymnastics, but let them be gymnastics in the service of the soul, in the service of noble thoughts and generous sentiments--divine gymnastics for the service of God.

Renew your nature. Lay aside the swaddling-bands of your imperfections, conform your lives to the highest ideals of uprightness and truth. Exercise your voice, your articulation and your gestures. If need be, like Demosthenes, place pebbles in your mouth; repair like that great orator to the sea-shore, brave the fury of the billows, accustom yourself to the tumult and roar of assemblies. Do not fear the fracture or dislocation of your limbs as you seek to render them supple, to fashion them after the model, the type you have before your eyes. Labor omnia vincit.

In any event, be persevering. Novitiate and apprenticeship in any profession, are difficult. In every state the bitterness of trial is to be expected. To arrive at initiation has its joys, to arrive at perfection is a joy supreme. Beneath the rind of this mechanism, this play of organs, dwells a vivifying spirit. Beneath these tangible forms of art, the Divine lies hidden, and will be revealed. And the soul that has once known the Divine, feels pain no longer, but is overwhelmed with joy.

Art is the richest gift of heaven to earth. The true artist does not grow old; he is never too old to feel the charm of divine beauty. The more a soul has been deceived, the more it has been chastened by suffering, the more susceptible it is to the benefits of art. This is why music soothes our sorrows and doubles our joys. Song is the treasure of the poor.

Return, then, with renewed enthusiasm to your work! The end is worth the pains. The human organism is a marvelous instrument which God has given for our use. It is a harmonious lyre, with nine chords, each rendering various sounds. These three chords for the voice, and three for both gesture and speech, have their thousand resonances at the service of the life, the soul and the mind. As these chords vibrate beneath your fingers, they will give voice to the emotions of the life, to the jubilations of the heart and the raptures of the mind. This delightful concert will lend enchantment to your passing years, throwing around them all the attractions of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful.

We may well salute the three Graces and the nine Muses as gracious emblems, but it is far better to discern in art, the reflected image of the triple celestial hierarchy with its nine angel choruses.

Honor, then, to the fine arts! Glory to eloquence! Praise to the good man who knows how to speak well! Blessed be the great orator! Like our tutelary angel, he will show us the path that conducts or leads back to God.