One can easily see how ill adapted to oral delivery these sentences are. Phelps throws the same leading thoughts and succession of thoughts into a form adapted for public speaking:
“Why did God create the universe? Creation is incomprehensible to man. What is creation? How was it possible? How did it ever come to be? I cannot answer. Can you? Every man of common sense confesses his ignorance here. But if we are ignorant of what creation is, and how it is, can we imagine that we understand why it is? Shall we think to unveil the mind of God in the stupendous act? That moment when God said ‘Let there be light’ was a moment of which we can know nothing but that ‘there was light.’ Shall we think to see all that God saw? Can we look through the past without beginning, and the future without end, and fathom all His purposes and all His motives? Can we, by searching, find out God? If we must repel assertion anywhere, we must do so here. Whatever we may think, it is but little more than guess-work. At the best it can be but knowing in part. The most we can know must be on the surface. It cannot penetrate to the heart of the matter.”[42]
Two kinds of style.
The plan of writing down a line of discussion helps to clarify the thought. Casting aside the manuscript as soon as the sequence of ideas is fixed in the mind emancipates the speaker from the written page. Several years of practice develop two kinds of style, one adapted for writing, the other for speaking. After this stage of development is reached, it may be no longer necessary to formulate on paper every line of argument. Nevertheless, the pen cannot be laid aside entirely without detriment to the quality of the thought and the effectiveness of oral discourse.
Dictating.
Everything calculated to interfere with the stream of thought should, so far as possible, be eliminated from the act of composing. Some men find the pen an irksome drain upon their energy and vitality. Their thought moves faster than they can write. The employment of a stenographer aids them in the work of composing. The danger against which they must guard is a growing dislike to the use of the pen, and a deterioration of their style resulting in the obliteration of the difference which distinguishes effective speaking from successful writing.
Lectures and orations.
There is a radical difference between a lecture and an oration. Public speaking which partakes of the nature of the lecture, aiming primarily at instruction or the communication of knowledge, may be assisted by experiments, by maps, charts, and pictures upon the screen, by specimens and models designed to throw light upon the theme under discussion. Public speaking which partakes of the nature of oratory, its aim being to move the will to action, is generally limited in the appliances it can utilize, and in the way it must appeal to the hearer. It must not exhaust the attention of the hearer by consuming his time in the establishment of principles, and in showing, by lengthy details, how results are obtained. Far better is it to cite authorities, to quote their language if necessary, and to make the application to the case in hand. In referring to recognized standards, like a dictionary, a treatise on law, or the Sacred Scriptures, it is always best to quote the exact words. This is also more appropriate on the written page than a reproduction of the thought in inferior forms of statement. In public speaking, however, the original statement may be too involved, and a breaking up into shorter, simpler sentences may aid the forward movement of the stream of thought. The first aim of the speaker is to be understood. If he fails to reach the understanding, he can neither persuade nor convince, nor spur the will to action.
Starting in too high a key.
There is another limitation to the kind of public speaking which partakes of the nature of oratory. The idea which the speaker seeks to have realized in the vote, or verdict, or conduct of others, must be carried back to the necessary ideas of the hearer. The full discussion of this peculiarity in the stream of thought belongs to treatises on rhetoric. Such a discussion can be found in Theremin’s Rhetoric, translated by Shedd. Suffice it to say that the recognition of this principle makes the speaker a more thoughtful man. It causes him to rely for the effect he seeks to produce upon solid and sterling qualities rather than showy rhetoric. It tends to make the stream of thought flow deeper, fuller, yet clearer and with more power. Any interference with the stream of thought while the speaker is before the audience may be disastrous. The crying of a child, or an outburst of feeling in the audience, or some other mishap may disconcert his mind. Legouvé tells how the world-renowned advocate, Berryer, lost a very good cause by unconsciously starting his speech in too high a key. “His temples soon felt the unusual fatigue of the larynx; from the temples it passed to the brain; the strain being too great, the brain gave way; the thought became confused, and the language disarranged and indistinct.” He broke down in open court because he never thought of descending from the lofty perch on which his voice started at the beginning of his plea. Legouvé claims, and the experience of many speakers confirms the claim, that the abuse of the high notes has not infrequently affected injuriously the orator’s very flow of thought.