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Previous sectionImprovement Era, March 1926Next sectionOur Constitution and Government

Oratory, Poesy and Prophecy

Improvement Era, vol. 29, no. 5, March 1926, pp. 401 to 404

Orson F. Whitney

Improvement Era Vol. XXIX MARCH, 1926 No. 5 ORATORY, POESY AND PROPHECY By Orson F. Whitney I. In selecting for my present purpose the triple theme of oratory, poesy and prophecy, I am not unmindful of the fact that any one of these subjects is capable of almost infinite elaboration, and would of itself suffice for a long and interesting treatise. I combine them because I believe them to be related — -three God-given graces which, like charity, hope and faith, have a perfect right to go hand in hand. To point out this relationship, rather than to deal with any theme exhaustively, constitutes my present purpose. That the gift of oratory is poetic, and the gift of poesy prophetic, I need not inform anyone who has given the matter more than super- ficial consideration. Moreover, not only poets, but orators are some- times prophets; and prophets are or may be both poets and orators. Oratory is the offspring of poesy, bearing the same relation to it as the child does to the parent, as sound does to silence, as speech to thought, as expression to imagination. Poesy is creation; oratory, manifestation. Consequently, oratory is less than poesy, as the thing created must always be less than the power that creates it. Poesy is the creater of oratory. "We are born poets, we make ourselves orators," says Cicero. This being true — and it was one of the greatest orators who said it, — there can be no question as to which is the greater, that which is "born," God-created, or that which man has "made." This is not to say that some orators are not greater than some poets. It is between the gifts of poesy and oratory that the parallel is being drawn. An orator of the first class may be superior to a poet of the second class, but speaking in the abstract and without reference to individual cases, the sphere of the poet is above the sphere of the orator. Entered at the Post Office, Salt Lake City, Utah, as second class matter. Acceptance for mailing at special rate of postage provided for in Section 1 103, Act of October 3, 1917, authorized "on July 2, 1918, $2 per annum. Address Room 406, Church Office Building, Salt Lake City, Utah.

402 IMPROVEMENT ERA As a matter of course, one must first understand what poesy means, and what oratory means, in order to appreciate this distinction. Not to those who judge after the seeing of the eye and the hearing of the ear, is it given to comprehend such a question. Worshipers) of sound and show, who know naught of "that within which passeth show;" who recognize God in the earthquake and the whirlwind, rather than in "the still small voice" — not to such is oratory less than poesy. "The applause of listening senates to command," to be praised and appreciated in the present, is so much greater to the ordinary mind than to endure lifelong poverty and obscurity, neglected and depreciated while living, extolled and honored only when dead — the frequent fate of poets and prophets in the past — that it seems im- possible to such that poesy or even prophecy can be equal, let alone superior, to oratory. Poesy, I say, is the creator of oratory, a fact shown in part by the meaning of the two terms. Poesy springs from a Greek word meaning "to make;" oratory, from a Latin word signifying "to speak." Hence, as Dryden observes, "a poet is a maker * * * and he who cannot make, that is, invent, hath his name for nothing." But the orator "makes speeches," some will say. Is he not therefore a maker? and must he not be "born" just as much as the poet? and must not the poet be "made" quite as1 much as the orator? These questions bring us face to face with the whole problem whose solution I am attempting. I will endeavor to answer. But bear in mind what I have already sought to emphasize, that it is of powers and functions that I am speaking, independently of persons who may possess and exercise any or all of them. To begin then: Is the orator in the strictest sense of the term a speech-maker? I answer, No. The orator does1 not make the speech — it is the poet or thinker within him that does that. The orator speaks the speech after the poet has made it. The orator "makes a speech" as the traveler "makes a journey," over a road already constructed, or as the actor "makes a part," creates a role, which has been written for him by another. True, the traveler may make a journey over a road constructed by himself; and the actor, if a playwright, may give the original portrayal of a character which his own pen, his own mind has created. The case is just the same with the orator; he and the poet may be the same person, one individual possessing two powers and exercising two functions. It is the poetic part of him that thinks, invents or "makes," for that is the meaning of poesy; it is the oratorical part that "speaks," gives oral utterance to the thought inwardly created, for that is the meaning of oratory. All men who think are, therefore, poetic to some extent. They may use either pen or tongue to express their thoughts; but whether those thoughts are set forth in a poem or in a speech, it is the poet or thinker, not the writer or speaker, who is the author of them.

ORATORY, POESY AND PROPHECY 403 "We are all poets," says Carlyle, "when we read a poem well. The imagination that shudders at the hell of Dante, is not that the same faculty, weaker in degree, as Dante's own?" Still, imagination must be wedded to expression, in order that thought may be born. As it requires the art of the printer and illustrator to properly present or render attractive the ideas embodied in a poem, so it requires! the powers and graces of elocution, of facial expession and gesture, to fully interpret to and impress upon the mind the ideas embodied in an oration. Elocution is another name for oratory; for elocution means the power of expressing thought by speech and gesture, and that is- virtually the meaning of oratory. Some might say that one point of difference between them is, that oratory presupposes originality, the orator voicing his own thought, while the elocutionist or actor expresses the thoughts of others. It is true that the actor or elocutionist, in the exercise of his pro- fession, generally utilizes the thoughts of others; but it is also true that some orators and some writers do precisely the same thing. The reader has heard, perhaps, of Richard Brinsley Sheridan's famous reply to an opponent in Parliament: "The gentleman has said much that is good, and much that is original; but that which was original was not good, and that which was good was not original." There is no greatness without originality. "He is great," says Emerson, "who is what he is from nature, and who never reminds us of others." That is, by servile imitation. Nevertheless there have been great orators who were not altogether original. "The secret of oratory," says George Eliot, "lies not in saying new things, but in saying things with a certain power that moves the hearer." But noise is not power, nor is emphasis the shouting out of every other word in tones "to split the ears of the groundlings." — "None emphatic can that speaker call, Who lays an equal emphasis on all." No, loudness is not logic, and though necessary at times in order to drive home an argument, it is no substitute for argument, and can easily be overdone. A word of counsel to those who would become orators: Beware of affectation. Do not put on what you cannot honestly wear. Don't try to be eloquent. No man was ever truly eloquent when he tried to be. No speaker ever convinced his hearers by a display of emotion that was not genuine. Express what you feel, but don't allow your feelings too much latitude. Don't pound the pulpit. It adds nothing to your force of delivery. Shake off mannerisms, but above all be natural — be yourself. Don't copy the errors of those whom you have taken as models. Their mistakes are not worth perpetuating. If they were great, it is not because of such things, but in spite of them. Their admirers have something to forgive. Lord Chatham was a great orator, but his oratory had faults.

404 IMPROVEMENT ERA It was more or less theatrical. Carried into Parliament on a litter, and supporting himself with crutches while speaking, as he warmed to his theme he seemingly forgot that he was lame, and flung his crutches aside, creating a tremendous sensation. But no man could do that now. He would be laughed at, deservedly. Another great orator, also an Englishman, made himself ridiculous by punctuating an impassioned period with a dagger, thrown upon the floor of the House of Commons; an anachronism that might have passed muster in the days of Demosthenes, but which even the sham- loving Eighteenth Century could not tolerate. Speaking of things theatrical, note how the style of acting has changed in the past fifty or sixty years. How stilted and unnatural it was, both in act and in utterance. Now all is changed. The Spirit of Truth, pouring into the world at the opening of this Gospel dispensation, has reasserted itself, has made or is making "all things new." Today is recognized, perhaps as never before, the truth of the saying: "The perfection of art" — especially dramatic art — '"is the highest imitation of nature." While oratory is not acting — is not imitation, yet the orator can profit by the experience and by some of the methods of the actor. A minister inquired of one: "Why is it that words spoken from the stage are so much more impressive than those uttered from the pulpit? What is the secret of your success?" The actor replied: "We dare to pause." There's a great deal in that. Pausing is as necessary in speaking, as punctuation is in writing. If you doubt it, mark the difference between the speaker who, upon arising, waits a moment with his eye fixed on the audience before beginning, and the one who starts to speak immediately upon taking the stand. The one invites attention; the other indifference. The use of cadences — the rise and fall of the voice — and the avoidance of monotonous droning, is another point worth considering. The truly great orator is a man of burning earnestness, intent upon his matter more than his manner, which, cultivated, will take care of itself. He does not fish for applause, nor pose for dramatic effect. He is a despiser of vain show and cheap heroics, which appeal to the shallow, but never to the profound. How much buncombe and bombast was there in the divine Author of that divinest of all orations. The Sermon on the Mount? The world, with all its thundering declamation, its pompous posing and theatrical ostentation, has never reached, and by such means never will reach, as high a standard of oratory as was raised by that simple, unaffected, earnest soul, Jesus the Nazarene. Who comes nearest to him in spirit, in speech, and in manner of delivery, will be the greatest orator of the future.