attended to, the sounds follow as their immediate signs, and the voice assumes a natural tone. The exercise of oral reading in a foreign language directs the attention to pronunciation exclusively; that of narration embraces pronunciation, intonation, and the whole art of speaking: the first is merely mechanical, the second highly intellectual. The story-telling exercise presents this additional advantage in a class,—it keeps alive the attention of all; especially if the subjects of the narratives are interesting and if the narrators pronounce correctly: while one practises speaking the rest of the class practise the more useful art of hearing. In large academical establishments, emulation will be excited among the advanced learners of a foreign language by means of weekly conferences held for the purpose of conversing in it. Each person, being obliged to relate an anecdote or story, will acquire command of the language, and, at the same time, contribute to make these conferences interesting. Narrations, the length and difficulty of which may be increased proportionably to the proficiency of learners, are particularly well adapted to public instruction, in which it would be difficult, not to say impossible, to induce every member of a large class to join in conversation. Some would always be found, who, possessing either more confidence or more knowledge than the others, would engross the attention of the teacher, to the great prejudice of the rest, who could feel no interest in a conversation in which they have no share. Should they all wish to speak, the few words each would have time to exchange with the teacher would not permit them to make much progress. As to general conversation, young persons are not likely to take a part in it, when they are as yet but very imperfectly acquainted with the language. Hence, in the absence of suitable exercises for practising the arts of hearing and speaking, arises this singular anomaly, the living languages, although learned for the sake of their usefulness as mediums of international communication, are, in public schools and colleges, altogether taught as if they were dead languages. The suggestions we have made on the introduction of speaking exercises in public instruction present no difficulty in practice, when a class is well disciplined, or composed entirely of students anxious to improve, as is especially the case with adults. However, when want of time or the deficiency of the learners does not permit them to be much exercised in speaking, a remedy will be found in the general adoption of the method prescribed for acquiring the power of understanding foreign languages when spoken; for, if this part of the study be carefully attended to in every country of the civilised world, those who master it possess, as already noticed, the means of international communion. SECT. IV. OF CONVERSING IN A FOREIGN LANGUAGE.-EFFECT OF PRACTICE. After a year's steady practice in the exercises of phrasemaking, narration, and grammatical illustration, or even in much less time, if the learner is an adult and has been diligent, conversation will present no difficulty. The learner must, even at the risk of committing frequent mistakes, make a beginning as soon as he has gained familiarity with the pronunciation. He who defers beginning to speak a language until he knows it, commits a blunder like him who, desiring to go into the water, puts off doing so until he knows how to swim. He who has not the courage to speak badly will never speak well. Errors pave the way to perfection. To advance in the art of speaking, the learner should not only lay aside bashfulness which trembles at the idea of a mistake, but he must also divest himself of pride, which dreads being laughed at. These two feelings, by keeping the mind in constant awe, impede its free action. Even persons possessed of the greatest powers of language become, under their influence, incapable of delivering their sentiments with order and precision. The mere art of speaking does not demand high development of the intellectual faculties, or much information; extensive practice, with ordinary powers of memory, imitation, and analogy, suffices; and these powers seldom fail in youth. This remark does not apply to oratory,—it is confined to the familiar expression of thought; and it is in this sense that Descartes said, "Very little judgment is wanted to know how to speak.' is commonly observed that the ignorant speak more than the learned, and fools considerably more than sensible people. The talkativeness of servants and young children is proverbial. # 66 It He who has been more engaged in serious reflections and in enriching his mind with knowledge, than in frivolous talk, will sometimes labour under the disadvantage arising from want of *Discours de la Méthode. practice; although his mind is supplied with copious materials of discourse, he may hesitate in the choice of the ideas which he ought to convey, or of the words by which they can be most appropriately expressed; for he frequently discerns shades of difference which are not perceptible to the unthinking and the ignorant. "Blacksmiths and teamsters," says Emerson, "do not trip in their speech; it is a shower of bullets. It is Cambridge men who correct themselves and begin again at every half sentence." ""* The uneducated, intellectually circumstanced like a barbarian tribe, have occasion to speak only of familiar, sensible, and material objects; they possess none of those complex, relative, metaphysical, general ideas which result from extensive reading and close reflection; the perspicuity of their language proceeds from the shallowness of their thoughts. With the scanty provision of ideas and words gleaned without the aid of books, and with much practice in dealing out these few materials, they cannot feel embarrassment; they see only the surface of things; they know only the general import of terms; nothing hinders them from bringing out, on all occasions, their little stock in trade. Hence it is that those who know little often talk much. Practice gives readiness and facility-qualities within the reach of even the most illiterate; but copiousness and choice of language are the exclusive privilege of the well-informed. It requires but few materials to begin to speak in a language. A young child commences with the first syllables he is able to lisp. When first he wishes for anything, he eagerly stretches his little hands towards it; the tender and provident mother, in giving it to him, seldom fails to pronounce its name; this name often repeated becomes, for the child, the sign of that object, and, under the influence of imitation, he instinctively substitutes it for his action, as a more certain and more expeditious means of making himself understood. In the course of time, as he adds to his stock of words, analogy guides him in the formation of sentences, which daily increase in length and in number. His application of these in making known his wants is not, at first, always very correct; he is apt to generalise terms and forms of expression, or to neglect the words which determine and specify the idea; but hearing the language from the lips of those who surround him, and afterwards reading well written works, easily remove these first errors; and the child, at last, can express himself with purity and even with elegance, although, as yet, he * Essay on Montaigne. knows not the reason, nor is acquainted with the rules of composition. If these had been imparted to him when he first attempted to convey his infantine ideas, it is most probable that he would not have advanced so rapidly in the art of speaking. A child six or seven years old, taken to a foreign country and placed among children of that country, will, in less than twelve months, speak their language like themselves; at least, he will express himself in it with far greater fluency than the most learned scholar of the present day is able to do in Latin or Greek, after toiling for many years through grammars and dictionaries. He learns thus rapidly to speak from mere practice in hearing, without inquiring into the grammatical principles which govern the expressions he hears, or into the orthography of the words he has occasion to repeat. Another remarkable proof of the importance of practice and of the power of imitation may be sometimes found in a gentleman and his servant, abroad; the servant, solely depending on his inquisitive, perceptive, and imitative powers, not unfrequently speaks the foreign language sooner than his master; for, in the servants' hall, or in the kitchen, being constantly in the company of other servants as talkative as himself, and free, as people of that class mostly are, from the dread of making blunders, he seizes every trifling circumstance to extend his vocabulary of familiar expressions, while his master may probably be hard at work, studying grammars and traveller's guides, lest he should commit himself when he occasionally goes into the society of the natives. This fact is stated only to show the superiority of practice over theory for acquiring fluency of speech. We do not mean to give our unqualified approbation to the mode pursued by the servant; for, if he soon speaks, he commonly does it with a very incorrect pronunciation; because, in his thoughtless anxiety to talk, he uses the foreign words before he has heard them frequently enough to know how they should be pronounced. We provided against this evil in the foregoing Book. A learner, who has had much practice in hearing his instructor and in forming phraseological variations on the most useful verbs, can commit but few mistakes. Let him not be deterred by any feeling of timidity or supposed incapacity. Self-confidence is the basis of success in this as in every other pursuit. Practice will soon give him command of words, especially if, concurrently with it, he read popular works, and frequently make them topics of conversation. He will form for himself a good conversational style, if he diligently compare the spoken with the written language, with a view to modify the one by the other; for he will then easily detect the errors and vulgarisms of the colloquial phraseology which he may hear, and thus know what words and phrases to adopt or reject. From the moment that the learner uses the foreign language with any degree of expertness, his further improvement will be carried on by the adoption of a course similar to that which is followed in acquiring powers of oratory in the native tongue. That course he will know from the biography of eminent speakers, and by studying the national or foreign authors who have given precepts on the oratorical art. But, although fluency for familiar intercourse may be easily gained, it is not to be expected that, in ordinary circumstances, the learner will be able to acquire at home, complete knowledge of all the idioms and delicacies of the foreign language, or command of expression adequate for the elaborate discussion of serious subjects. Great powers of oratory are rare in the native tongue; and more rare still in a foreign idiom. However, we will remark that acquaintance with human nature, a well-cultivated mind, and study of the great models, are the chief sources from which the talent of speaking derives the power of pleasing, convincing, and exciting emotions. To please, the speaker must join to a flexible vocal organ a correct pronunciation; his ideas must be lucid and consistent with reason, his style conformable to the subject, his tones, looks, and actions suitable to the sentiments which he expresses. If he wishes to bring conviction to the minds of his hearers, he must advance none but sound logical arguments, expressed with clearness and precision; he must, especially, evince thorough knowledge of the matter on which he discourses: the surest way to convince others is to speak from conviction. Finally, to move those whom he addresses, he must himself be capable of feeling every variety of emotion: "If you wish me to weep, weep first," says Horace.* 'Eloquence,” observes D'Aguesseau, "is not only a production of the mind; it is a work of the heart."+ The noble enthusiasm of truth which kindles the soul of a virtuous character, is the parent of real eloquence: the words he utters have an authority which virtue alone can give. Hence the idea formed by the ancients of what constitutes an orator. * De Arte Poetica. 66 ↑ Discours sur la Décadence de l'Eloquence. |