the sound principle that the cultivation of the “inner spirit," the systematic and prolonged education of the mind and heart, the achievement of a strong character, -should precede and accompany the study of the "outer signs." Many followed Æschines in practising written composition assiduously and in studying general literature and philosophy, as essential elements in the education of a speaker. Demosthenes, the greatest of Greek orators, illustrated the value of unremitting and purposeful labor. In order to overcome defects of voice, articulation, breathing, and physical manner, he imposed upon himself arduous exercises through a series of years; he watched the ways of the actors and of other professional speakers, and imitated them in those points which seemed appropriate to his own personality and temperament. He gave seven years of his life to practising written composition and to studies in history, law, and statesmanship. Believing that he could win no lasting success without worthy thinking, he endeavored in all of his studies to find out what was fundamentally right and not merely what was expedient, in order that, throughout his life, he might habitually and unconsciously apply the highest test to every question that he might be called upon to discuss. In thus devoting himself primarily to gaining sound knowledge and to developing moral earnestness, while steadily learning, through practice and a study of models, the approved modes of speech that were suitable to himself as an individual, he set for all time the example of a sound method of training for effective self-communication on any subject of discussion; a method involving first, adequate knowledge of the facts to be discussed; secondly, the ability and the disposition to apply principles of right and wrong to the facts as

ascertained; thirdly, attention to the best way of presenting the matter. The Greek and Latin writers on public speaking devoted a great deal of discussion to the first and second of these points. Later writers have said less about these, devoting their attention almost exclusively to the art of presentation; but always assuming the preeminent importance of knowledge and sincerity.

THE PARTS OF A DISCOURSE.

The usual division of any discourse is into (1) introduction (see pp. 10-14), (2) discussion (pp. 14-30), and (3) conclusion (pp. 30-31). These terms suggest little more than beginning, middle, end. The ancient writers enumerated the following as parts of an address: introduction, the narration or exposition, the proposition, the confirmation, the refutation, the conclusion; and some added the excursus or digression. This minuter division is still useful as indicating certain elements that enter or may enter into the make-up of a speech, certain functions to be performed, or, for good reason, to be consciously left unperformed. In most argumentative discourses, for example, a formal narration or exposition of facts as a separate part, preliminary to the proposition and the confirmation or proof, is unnecessary: yet the element of narration or exposition will appear at any stage of the discourse as needed. Likewise proof and refutation may or may not constitute the main body of a discourse: in a discourse that is essentially narrative or expository, argument may be absent altogether, while in others there is nothing but argument. The proposition, or, if there be no proposition, the subject, can hardly be considered a part of discourse, yet its enumeration with the parts points clearly to the need

of some unifying element in every discourse; and indeed the excursus, or the digression, an element now almost universally condemned as lacking all excuse for being, was originally offered in answer to the human need of relief from too strict an adherence to the logic of the subject and as an opportunity for the speaker to unburden his mind on any matter that logic would exclude from his discourse. We shall adopt as parts of discourse the introduction, the discussion, and the conclusion; and, in the treatment of each, we shall ask what elements may properly enter into its make-up.

1. The Introduction. The work of the introduction is to provide all that is needed by way of preliminary information and in order to secure a favorable disposition towards the ideas that are to follow in the discussion. Ancient writers, however, restricted the introduction to the work of gaining the active good will of the audience. They assigned to another part of the discourse the work of giving preliminary information. The chief function of the introduction, they thought, is to overcome hostility in the mind of the audience, should hostility exist; to win attention, and to create an interest in the subject, leaving no hearer in a state of indifference. One of the best recommendations of Aristotle may be stated thus: the way to gain good will is to show good will. This is precisely what we find in the complimentary reference of Henry's opening lines (p. 33), in Franklin's second sentence (p. 39), and in Grady's second paragraph (p. 242). In all of these instances, too, the speaker feels that he is encountering those who think differently from himself about the matter under discussion, and he establishes favorable relations by expressing the respect and good will that he feels. But in general, good will is made apparent in modern speeches more

often in the tone and spirit of the opening than in any direct statement.

A second method of gaining good will is the appeal, direct or indirect, to community of interest, or to class or party spirit. The tacit assumption in this appeal is that because speaker and audience are of the same nationality, church, political party, school, club, social class, trade, profession, or other occupation, enjoy the same intellectual pursuits, or even the same sports, they will be inclined to agree in all matters. Evidences of this kind of appeal appear in Franklin's identification of himself with his colleagues (p. 37). He does not divide the convention into two parties, the one wishing for prayers, the other never thinking of such a thing; he does not assume a greater piety than his colleagues possess; all have been alike forgetful. He classifies himself with his audience. Webster, eulogizing Washington, naturally touches the chord of patriotism; and at the outset of the Monument Address (p. 87) he voices the common feeling as he conceives it. His second paragraph (p. 87) is devoted exclusively to the patriotic note. Phillips, also, (p. 209) emphasizes class spirit when he attributes a distinctive characteristic to American scholarship. Cockran's first sentence (p. 255) imputes to all of his hearers a common admiration for the work of the Constitution-builders.

While showing good will, however, while seeking to identify himself with his audience, the speaker must not surrender any of his convictions or any of his selfrespect. As Aristotle long ago pointed out, a speaker commends himself chiefly by his good judgment and reasonableness, by his reliance on his own worth and the worth of his message. But modern taste forbids him to assert his good qualities. A speaker's reasonableness,

his worth, his virtue, or strength, declare themselves in his treatment of his theme. The personal introduction in political or other controversy, however, is still common, and, indeed, is unavoidable when the speaker has been made the object of criticism and thus has himself become part of the matter at issue. It occurs frequently in the Lincoln-Douglas debates, and in the campaign speeches of rival candidates for office it is always to be expected. It is used with a fine reticence in Washington's Farewell Address (p. 48) and with solemn effectiveness in Lincoln's Independence Hall address (p. 174). But, excepting instances of obvious necessity, like those just named, the personal introduction will not often suggest itself in these days as an easy or appropriate method of beginning.

Closely related to the personal introduction, and often employed in connection with it, is the introduction based upon the importance of the subject. This is illustrated in the first paragraph on page 33; but it is to be noted that Henry used it, ostensibly, as the excuse or reason for his abrupt and plain manner of speech. As a general rule in modern addresses the importance of the subject is a thing to be assumed rather than directly asserted. The importance of the subject is either selfevident at the outset or is to be made evident by the whole discourse. It should be recognized by the audience as a result of the speech, rather than declared by the speaker at the beginning.

Probably the easiest and most economical introductions are those which are based on some pertinent remark that has been made by another. An introduction of this kind seems to continue a discussion already begun in people's minds, and offers a point of departure either in harmony with the quoted sentiment or in