Part 9

Garrick used to say that he would give one hundred guineas if he could say "Oh" as Whitefield would say it.

"But," you declare, "nature has not given us voices like the voices of those celebrated men, and we must be content with what we have."

While nature may not have bestowed upon us their melodious voices, we can do much to improve our own. A study of biography will inform us that many of the most successful speakers, whether actors or orators, have been men and women possessing some native defect of speech or figure which they resolutely mastered by patient, persevering application. We all know of Demosthenes' impediment of speech, and are familiar with the story of his months of struggle and his final success.

Savonarola, when he first spoke in the cathedral at Florence, was considered a failure, on account of his wretched voice and awkward manner. Phillips Brooks, one of the greatest preachers America has produced, was told by his college president that the ministry was out of the question for him because of his nervousness and the defects of his speech.

It would be easy to multiply instances to show that the most awkward body and the roughest voice may be brought under control. In fact, where the voice is imperfect and the man is obliged to make a determined effort to master it, he attains by this means, a mental vigor and an emotional strength and a flexibility of voice and mind, as well as a command over the body, which render his delivery in the highest degree effective.

Again, it is not sufficient that we have naturally a melodious voice; we must know how, or else learn how, to use it. There must be feeling and expression in one's tones. If we wish to express cordiality, words are futile unless the voice sounds the feeling we wish to express. We need to learn how to modulate the voice so as to make it a true reflex of the mind and mood. Unless it tells of sincerity, apologies fail to convince of a contrite spirit. Unless it conveys confidence, protestations are in vain; yet the very tone of one's voice may allay bitterness, though one may stumble over the words of an apology. If, then, one recognizes the fact that his voice is colorless and devoid of feeling, though his heart be warm, let him at once apply himself to remedying the defect.

Listen to your own voice when speaking, and note the harsh, strident tones, and the imperfect inflection, and correct them. Many girls speak in a nervous, jerky, rapid way, beginning a sentence and repeating a portion of it two or three times before completing it. Some speak in high, shrill tones which are not only displeasing but positively irritating because discordant. Some speak too fast, while others, going to the opposite extreme, simply drawl. These are defects which can be corrected, and, by correcting them we add measurably to our power to charm.

If you do not understand the imperfections of your tone productions, or the faults in your manner of speaking, or if you have trouble in correcting them, go to one who does know, and who is as sensitive to the speaking voice as he is to the singing voice. It may cost you something to do this, but it will be money judiciously expended. You take music lessons, both vocal and instrumental, and you do not consider the money expended for such lessons as wasted even though you have no intention of going upon the stage in opera or of becoming a professional pianist. You study music as an accomplishment. Why then should you not give some time, and if need be, a little money for the purpose of perfecting your speaking voice, if by so doing you can make yourself more agreeable to others. You may not be called upon very often to sing or play for other people, but you will talk every day and many times each day, and the voice is "the agent of the soul's expression."

"The art of singing," says The Boston Herald, "strange to say, does not include the art of speaking, for some very fine singers have harsh and unmusical voices in conversation. But with all the training now given to the rising generation, voice education should be considered. Take the rasp and the hardness out of your sons' and daughters' speech, and give them another grace with which to conquer society."

The importance of what we say and how we say it, has never been more clearly or pointedly expressed than in this quotation from an American writer: "A man may look like a monkey and yet turn out to be a philosopher; a man may dress like a vagabond, and yet have the intuitions of a scholar and a gentleman. The face, the expression of the eye, the dress, the manner even, may all be deceptive, but the voice and speech of men and women classify them infallibly."

GOOD MANNERS.

Life is not so short but that there is always time for courtesy. EMERSON.

"Politeness is real kindness kindly expressed. This is the sum and substance of all true politeness. Put it in practice and all will be charmed with your manner."

Young men generally would doubtless be thoroughly astonished if they could comprehend at a single glance how greatly their personal happiness, popularity, prosperity, and usefulness depend on their manners. J. G. HOLLAND.

In attracting others to us the value of a pleasing manner cannot be estimated. It is like sunshine. We feel it at once, and we are attracted to the person who possesses it.

"Give a boy address and accomplishments," said Emerson, "and you give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes wherever he goes; he has not the trouble of earning or owning them: they solicit him to enter and possess."

Much has been written upon this subject. Indeed, so much has been said, and said so well, that there will be little attempt to do anything else in this chapter than to bring together some of the best thoughts of the best authors.

The men and women who have accomplished great things in the world have, as a rule, understood the value of politeness, and have acted in accordance with that knowledge. You can, possibly, recall a very few exceptions, but these were persons great in spite of their lack of courtesy, and they would have been even greater had they practiced the art of gentle manners.

The Duke of Marlborough, whose general education was in some respects sadly neglected, had so irresistible a charm of manner that he swayed the destinies of nations. Mirabeau, who was unattractive in person, won by his politeness the good will of all with whom he came in contact. There has been no time in the history of the world when good manners counted for more than they do at the present time. In fact, to-day more than ever before a man is dependent for success upon his personality. Good manners often bring to one many things that wealth cannot procure, and "politeness has won more victories than powder."

"No one," says an American writer, "who has any appreciation of grace and beauty in nature or in art can fail to recognize the charm of fine manners in an individual. We rejoice in them as we do in a lovely sunset view, or a beautiful piece of architecture, or a fascinating poem, for their own sake and for what they express; but even beyond this they have another attraction in the magnetic power they exert upon all beholders in setting them at ease, in sweeping away shyness, awkwardness and restraint, and in stimulating them to the expression of whatever is best worth cherishing within them."

It is undoubtedly true that the presence of fine manners, whether it be in the home or the social circle, in the workshop or the counting-room, in the visit of charity or the halls of legislation, has an immediate effect in reproducing itself, in diffusing happiness, in developing the faculties, and in eliciting the best that is in everybody.

Surely there is no quality that a girl or a woman can possess which recommends her more favorably to the good opinion of others than that of uniform courtesy and good manners.

William Wirt's letter to his daughter on the "small, sweet courtesies of life," contains a passage from which a deal of happiness may be learned. "I want to tell you a secret. The way to make yourself pleasant to others is to show them attention. The whole world is like the miller at Mansfield, who cared for nobody--no not he, because nobody cared for him. And the whole world would serve you so, if you gave them the same cause. Let everyone, therefore, see that you do care for them by showing them the small courtesies in which there is no parade, whose voice is still to please; and which manifest themselves by tender and affectionate looks, and little acts of attention, giving others the preference in every little enjoyment at the table, walking, sitting, or standing."

Young men who wish to make their way in the world cannot afford to forget that there is not in all the world a talisman of such potent magic as the irresistible spell of a charming manner. While in some cases it seems innate, it can, in a great measure, be acquired. Yet a careful observer of the young men of the present generation cannot fail to notice a tendency, on the part of some at least, to disregard the small courtesies of life--the intangible, yet very perceptible little things which make the man a gentleman. Some people even contend that outward manner is a secondary consideration if the head is well stored with knowledge, and that if a young man has the faculty to get on in the world, it is a matter of very little importance if he have not the manners of a Chesterfield. That this idea is prevalent is accounted for by the great number of well-educated men--men of ability and power--who, clever and with no lack of brains, are painfully deficient in good breeding. With no intentional lapses they are awkward, presuming, and even vulgar.

"In most countries," says the Toronto Week, "an educated man and a gentleman are almost synonymous terms. On this side of the Atlantic they by no means always apply to the same man. Educational advantages are within the reach of all classes of people--even persons who have missed the benefit of home training for their manners, or who have not numbered cultured persons among their acquaintances. Such persons by native ability and hard work often attain to high positions of honor and trust in the various professions, and win for themselves the title of 'self-made.'

"Yet because a man by his brains, energy, and pluck carves out his own fortune, putting himself in a prominent position, is it not very desirable that he should also cultivate the courtesies of life so that the talent be not hidden by roughness and uncultivated bearing."

We frequently meet college students--especially from the smaller colleges--good, honest, earnest, ambitious fellows, who are working hard to make their way in the world. They are poor, and have come from homes where the stern realities of gaining a livelihood have left, apparently, no time for culture; where the table manners are but little better than those of the logging camp, and where the graces of refined speech and manners have never even taken root. They may take never so high a rank in their college studies, may pursue the work preparatory to a profession with never so much diligence, yet they will always be handicapped by their ignorance of those embellishments so necessary to social, and even business, success. They find themselves continually placed at a disadvantage, and their lack of social training is responsible for failures which might have been avoided.

Because a man is a successful lawyer he is not justified in saying that he can be his own tailor, or that ill-fitting clothes, if belonging to him and of his own make, are as suitable as those of a good cut. So it is with the intellectual giant who takes no heed of his manners. He may learn much from less talented persons, who are, nevertheless, his superiors in many respects. Desirable as it may be for a young man to shun the extravagance of the æsthete, and to despise the shams of society, he cannot afford to neglect the courtesies of life; and he does well who, while devoting his energies to mathematics and the classics, pays attention to the improvement of his manners. It is while young that manners are formed; the most strenuous efforts will not wholly eradicate in after life the awkward habits formed in youth.