VIII. PAUSING. 61 SUCH a starved bank of moss till, that May morn, IF Browning. F we take this little poem, and allow mind and voice to drift, then read it a second time, really thinking each idea, and associating it with the next, what will be the difference between the two modes of reading? One difference will be few pauses in the first, and a great many pauses in the second. Further study of the characteristics of conversation reveals not only changes of pitch, but pauses. The variation of the voice in conversation is due as much to intervals of time as to intervals of pitch. Pause is among the fundamental characteristics of naturalness. Whenever anyone speaks in a continuous stream of words, no matter how brilliant his ideas, or how beautiful his phrases, he is tedious and tiresome in the extreme. For, paradoxical as it may seem, continuity of words destroys continuity of thought; continuity of thought necessitates pauses in words. "Silence is the father of speech;" thought must have "its silent undergrowth," before it can utter itself in words. Intervals of silence thus show the genuineness of thinking. A pause preceding a word, or phrase, shows it to be the effect or sign of mental action. As the mind thinks by pulsation, by rhythmic leaps, by action and re-action, so speech must have the same characteristics. The length and frequency of pauses shows the intensity of thinking. As the mind, in superficial thinking, drifts, and is not focussed intensely and for a long time upon successive ideas, so the expression of such thinking reveals no staying of the mind by cessations and interruptions of the stream of words, nor any change of pitch. On the contrary, where the thinking is intense, where the mind wrestles to comprehend the greatness of an idea, the fact of such mental struggle is revealed by a pause. Pause and change of pitch are closely related to each other. The pause justifies or causes the change of pitch. As pause shows the mind creating its conception, so the change of pitch reveals the result. In proportion as the mind has created a new conception, or gained a new outlook, will the voice indicate spontaneously the mental change by change of pitch. A pause is not a mechanical thing. Neither the place where it is to be made, nor its length, can be measured by artificial rules. A pause is not a mere interval of time. There is, in fact, great difference between a hesitation and a pause: hesitation is mechanical, it is the result of a lapse of memory, or of not understanding a word or a thought; a pause, on the contrary, is due to the endeavor of the mind to conceive more truly, to realize more adequately the weight or relations of the idea. A hesitation is never agreeable, because it shows a gap in the thought, while a proper use of pauses is most pleasing because it shows a deeper continuity, a broader realization of truth. Hesitation rarely causes change of pitch, while a true pause is always associated with a change in pitch. This fact is very important. Whatever test causes a realization of the difference between a pause and a hesitation, is of great importance in training. A genuine pause is the result of thinking along the line of the subject, thinking which is more or less common between the speaker and the hearer. It shows that the speaker weighs and considers the idea: hence, pause accompanies all other forms of emphasis. "Speech is silvern, silence is golden;" but silence to be golden in expression must be shown to be due to the domination of an idea. Even a hesitation for a word may be made a means of uniting the mental action of the speaker and his hearers, and thus be made an element of power. A speaker may even, as old Falstaff said, "turn his diseases into a commodity." It is said that Daniel Webster, in Faneuil Hall, once gave a certain word for an idea, but it did not satisfy him: he hesitated, and gave another, — hesitated again, and gave still another; — and when, after four or five trials, he found the adequate word, the audience broke forth into applause. The fact is, he thus showed himself to be a great orator. He united the action of the minds of his auditors to his own; both labored together for a grander and more adequate conception of the idea, as well as for its highest expression. In conversation, the words are few, and the pauses many. The art of reading aloud is the art of turning cold, monotonous print into the living movement of conversation. In conversation, the speaker constantly pauses, and the hearer shares the effort of the thinker. The hearer does not feel that he is called upon to accept something that has already been thought out and stated; he is brought into sympathy with a creative act of the mind, and realizes the joy of discovering ideas. The grandest ideas cannot be adequately expressed in words. True vocal expression must suggest the transcendency of an idea, or thought, over words. Hence, the truest vocal expression reveals rather the effort of the mind to receive than its action in giving. This is the peculiar function of the pause in Vocal Expression. It shows that the mind receives the idea before giving it, that "impression precedes expression ;" while the change of pitch, and other vocal modulations, show that the impression determines the expression. There is a partial proof of this in the fact that in simple prose the discussion of abstract and general ideas requires few pauses, while dramatic poetry or composition of any kind, where there are more complex conceptions back of the words requires more and longer pauses in expression. Again, it is shown by the fact that writers like Carlyle and Browning, whose ideas and conceptions transcend their words, require more pauses than writers who have a smooth flow of words, with less depth of thought and grandeur of conception. All authors who are suggestive, who appeal to the imaginative insight, who, in short, suggest a great deal beyond the words, require many pauses in expression. Still another point regarding pauses, is that when a man reads that with which he is not familiar, he makes fewer pauses than when he reads that which is perfectly familiar to him. The reason for this curious fact is that in the first place he merely calls the words, and gets the ideas after he has pronounced them, while in the other case he reproduces and re-creates the successive ideas. The attitude of the mind in the first instance does not change with the thought, -the eye simply takes, and the voice pronounces the words, the mind following after; but in true expressive reading, the mind takes an idea before it gives it, and this necessitates pause. Pauses are always present when a man is natural, or when he conceives each idea at the instant before he conveys it. When a student is asked to read or to speak, he is afraid to make pauses; the reason for this is a fear of being tedious. Tediousness is the one thing of which all are afraid. All feel that hesitation is a primary source of tediousness; forgetting that an empty flow of words also causes tediousness. The true remedy for tediousness is genuine thinking, and the power to use silence in such a way as to unite the thinking of other minds with that of our own. The importance of pauses, therefore, is due to the fact that they show the creative action of the mind; that they show the rhythmic progression of thinking; that they are the revelation of subjective attention, or the successive focussing of the mind upon central ideas, and the domination of other minds to think in the same sequence; that they show the cause and effect in conversation, and thus are characteristic of spontaneity and naturalness; that they make words more suggestive, by revealing ideas as transcendent over signs or words; and, lastly, that they reveal depth of feeling and passion. One of the first steps, therefore, in Expression, is to become conscious of the significance of the pause; to become willing to allow silence to mingle with our speech; to recognize that if "speech is a jewel, silence must form its setting." The highest art of expression is to reveal the receptive activity of the mind, and without the pause this cannot be done. While Expression may seem to be the giving of thought, yet it must be remembered that ideas and emotions cannot be given as objective things. They can only be evoked and drawn out. Hence, the energy of the mind in taking an idea must be shown much more than its action in giving. Possession of life implies manifestation; and since pauses reveal the life of the mind in receiving impressions, all Vocal Expression will centre in their use. Each idea must be discovered. It must spring up spontaneously before speaking the words, and this takes place during a pause. Take this simple extract, and note the effect of really thinking each idea. After each phrase, we find ourselves pausing, and, if we wish to make the extract emphatic, almost mentally asking questions: 62 EVERY clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers. Lowell. "Every clod" (what about it? answer:) "feels a stir of might," (nay, even more,) "an instinct within it," (what of it?) "that reaches and towers, and" (something else more beautiful) "groping blindly above it for light," (and something still more wonderful) "climbs to a soul in grass and flowers." Of course, it is impossible to interpret in words the process of thought, and even if it were possible, no one analysis would be universal, as every mind acts in a different way. |