II. METHOD, OR LOGICAL RELATIONS. XIII ACCENTUATION. 109 THE sun is warm, the sky is clear, "Near Naples." IF Like many a voice of one delight The winds', the birds', the ocean-floods' The City's voice itself is soft, like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple sea-weeds strown; Like light dissolved in star-showers thrown; I sit upon the sands alone; The lightning of the noon-tide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion? Shelley. F we read these lines, really conceiving and admiring the images in their order, we not only find the facts we have already observed, — namely, successive ideas and vivid conceptions, each dominating the feeling and its vocal expression, causing changes of pitch, pauses between the conceptions, and the grouping of the words about each successive image,—but, if we read naturally, we also find in each successive group of words or phrases, a central attack or accent. The characteristics we have already found are more or less external to the phrases and words; but this attack we find to be within the phrase, and even within the central word. In reading this extract, the mind first focuses itself upon the idea of ‘sun,' — that is, the sun is the centre of the impression; of this, the mind asserts or recognizes 'warm.' In like manner, of the 'sky' is predicated 'clear.' In the next line, the attention is centred upon waves' and their characteristics, with climax upon 'bright.' In the same way the mind centres upon 'isle,' 'mountain,' and asserts a characteristic centreing in 'noon.' Now, if we observe conversation again, and note carefully its form and the action of the mind, we find not only that the mind is concentrated upon each of these successive ideas, but also that these successive concentrations of the mind cause definite touches, or attacks, upon the central words in the phrase. That is, the word most directly related to the central idea in `thought receives a peculiar vocal action, which manifests the action of the mind. When the speaker is simple, natural, unaffected, and spontaneous, and his voice is flexible and free, his groups of words are spoken in melodic forms in correspondence with the process of thought. We find, also, that as such concentrations of the mind are essential to thinking, so are such definite attacks of the voice the most fundamental characteristic of conversation or natural speech, and are essential to awaken thought in other minds. A mere stream of ideas, or a mere stream of words, is equally empty and foreign to thinking. Thought requires successive concentration of the mind, or definite attention upon specific ideas; and expression demands that the stream of words must be so dominated by this successive mental action, that each central word is spontaneously or deliberatively given in correspondence with the mental concentration and progression of ideas. This relation of words to ideas may be compared to the conventional accentuation of syllables in pronunciation. The accentuation of a syllable in a word is more mechanical; it rarely changes. No adequate theory has ever been given why one syllable is accentuated rather than another. The most reasonable one is that it is the syllable containing the root idea; but we find many words whose accent is not found upon the root syllable. Pronouncia tion seems to be governed chiefly by custom, but the centralization of words in conversation is the effect of the act of thinking: it changes with every phrase, and more or less with every speaker; it is the direct revelation, through the voice, of the successive points of concentration in the attention of the mind; it is a rhythmic expression in words of the rhythm of thought, a recognition by the voice of the law of association of ideas, which governs all thinking. In sing-song speech of any kind, or where words are given merely for the sake of words, as in reading proof, we find no such accentuation. The reason for this is that the attention of the mind is primarily upon the form, or upon the words as words; but the thinking of the thought of each phrase, before giving the words that express it, causes the word corresponding to the central idea to be made salient by the voice. The presence of such accentuations, their degree and variation, are in direct proportion to the genuineness and directness of the thinking, and the earnestness in communicating the ideas. In natural conversation, the act of thinking each idea in turn immediately precedes each successive act of expression. When the mind deals in broad generalization, or grasps primarily the general purpose, these accentuations are slighted, and the successive steps of the thought are not realized. The thinking must be a living, present act, in rhythmic alternation with the vocal and physical acts of expression. Many faults in Vocal Expression are the direct result of the violation of this element of naturalness. One of the most common of such faults is declamation. This is caused by speaking words from memory, or from using verbal memory rather than philosophic memory. A misconception of the nature of public speaking often causes a lack of accentuation. An endeavor to make words large, or to speak loud so as to appear to be in earnest, is still another cause of declamatory tones. Another fault, closely akin to this, is rant. Rant is earnestness of feeling without earnestness of thought. There is an endeavor to impress a geneal truth on men without specifically impressing upon them each successive idea, or conception of that truth. Rant results from an endeavor to awaken feeling without awakening ideas as the cause of that feeling. The first effect of a lack of definite rhythmic thinking, which determines the expression of each phrase, shows itself in the absence of accentuation. All the faults associated with melodies of speech, such as "staginess," and "ministerial tones,” are caused by a failure to dominate the modulations of the voice by the successive acts of thinking. Laying aside, for the present, the rising and the falling of the voice upon these central words, the inflectional accentuation showing the progression, the interrogative or the assertive attitude of mind, the seeking and the finding, the attitude of wonder or acceptation, or of presentation, which are all clearly revealed by the voice in its mode of accentuating the central words, leaving all this to instinct, for the present, let us note simply the central touches or attacks, and their importance in expression, and as far as possible give a definite touch to the word in each phrase which corresponds to the centre of the attention of the mind. It is good practice, in order to awaken the proper instinctive actions of the mind, to take some extract in which we are interested, and try to give the successive ideas slowly and effectively, so as to awaken the same ideas in another mind. Whenever each idea is given vaguely and not pointedly, teachers should interrupt a student with questions,-"What? Who? Are you sure?" This awakens the instinct to relate an idea to another mind, or reveals to the student the vagueness of his own conception. Every one in conversation adapts his words to his auditor, and also the modulations of the voice, the attacks, the inflections, and subordinations. The one great requisite for effective vocal expression is the power to grapple with ideas, to awaken definitely and simply in another mind a process of thought analogous to our own. Rhythmic accentuation is a fundamental instinct; it is as universal as mind, and must simply be awakened. Problem XVIII. Manifest by the voice, as simply and definitely as possible, the successive steps of the process of thinking; accentuate the concentration of the mind upon the successive ideas, and manifest this so as to dominate the attention of another. 110 By the rude bridge that arched the flood, And fired the shot heard round the world. 111. FROM "ULYSSES." THERE lies the port: the vessel puffs her sails: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Emerson. Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me, The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads, you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honor and his toil; Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: |