CHAPTER XI

EMOTION

Teaching children to read with feeling is one of the most difficult tasks falling to the lot of the teacher, and yet it is one that has, if successfully accomplished, far-reaching results. For, apart from the legitimate development of emotion, it enlarges their sympathy and lays the foundation for a genuine love of literature.

We must confess that emotional expression is rarely found in our public schools. It would avail little to discuss the causes of this condition in detail. In this chapter we shall try to discover a remedy. Emotion in reading comes largely through the imagination. Unless the mind conceives the thought, how can the nerves thrill and tingle? It is for this that we need teachers who are themselves lovers of the beautiful, sublime, tender, in order that they may impart their appreciation and feeling to their classes. Emotion is catching, and so is the absence of it! Time, time, time, is here the great need. It takes time to think; time for the picture to come forth in its fulness out of subconsciousness. Is not imagination the basis of literary interpretation, of historical study, yes, even of mathematics and science? The time spent on the development of imagination and emotion in the reading lesson will show its results in every other study.

If, then, the teacher would get the right emotion, he must see to it that the child has the proper and adequate stimulus. Appeal to his everyday experience and make that serve as an introduction to the new experience of the poem.

Let us suppose we are speaking to the children:

If your class were to have a contest with another class, let us say in spelling, and your class were to come out victorious, you would, no doubt, feel very joyful over the result. Now, let us suppose that after the victory one of the members of the class should get up on his seat and wave his hand above his head, crying: “Three cheers for our class!” Would there be any difference between the way in which he spoke those words and the way in which he would read the same words if they came in a sentence like this: “If we win I shall give three cheers for our class”?

Of course, you will see at once that there would be a great deal of difference. In the first place, he would be very joyful, and perhaps excited, and this joy and excitement would get into his voice, and he would call out, “Three cheers for our class,” with a great deal of feeling, or emotion; and everybody would see at once just how exultant he was. Now, what is it that causes that feeling, or emotion? I do not think that there will be much difficulty in answering this question. He was very much excited before the spelling contest came off, and now that it has been decided in your favor there is a feeling of great joy that comes over the whole body, and it is almost impossible to keep back the expression of that joy. In other words, he has been strongly moved.

I want to impress now upon you that as you go on with your study of reading, you will find that there is a great deal of emotion in many of the passages you will be called upon to read, and the only way to discover what the emotion is, must be by getting a very clear picture. But remember that the picture itself is not very likely to move you unless you enter into the spirit of the picture just as you entered into the spirit of the spelling contest. Do you see my meaning? One might say the words, “Three cheers for our class,” and not express very much emotion. One might even have a very clear picture of the whole spelling match, and yet not be very much moved. But if you will close your eyes and let the picture get hold of you, I think there will be no trouble about the emotion. Let me see whether I can make clear to you what I mean by letting the picture get hold of you.

Suppose we take this line from a well-known speech, “Wolsey on His Fall:”--“Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness!” Who speaks those words? is the first question. The answer is: An old man who has been for many years one of the leading men in the court of Henry VIII. He has used every effort to gain great power, and has forgotten his God, and now at last the king has cast him off. Just after Wolsey has been informed of his loss of power, he utters the words quoted above. Just think how much these words mean to this poor man. Think how much he must suffer, and then try to feel as much as you can what it would mean to you if everything you had hoped for and struggled for were to be taken away from you. Of course, I know that you have not been so ambitious as Wolsey, but yet I think you will have no trouble in imagining just how you would feel if everything you cared for were to be taken away from you. Well, this is all that you need feel in order to read with emotion the lines of Wolsey. Just think this over for a few minutes, and then see how much regret you can feel as you utter these words. Be sure that you get the meaning of the words; be sure you get hold of the picture; try to imagine just how you would feel if you were very deeply disappointed, and then utter the words of Wolsey.

This, then, is what I mean by telling you to let the picture get hold of you. When you were exultant over the result of the spelling contest, joy possessed you. When Wolsey learned of his fall, sorrow and remorse possessed him. So with all emotions. You must think over the whole story; you must think over all the events connected with it until you really feel somewhat as the speaker felt whose words you are reading. Then there will be no trouble about the expression.

The teacher will observe that the two illustrations are chosen from two distinct fields: one near to the child’s experience, the other far removed from it. It is further observed that both are direct discourse rather than description.

It seems the best plan to begin the definite study of emotional expression by using extracts in which the pupil uses direct rather than indirect discourse. The reason for this is that it is far more difficult to read, with expression, a passage of description in which the pupil would be expected to put emotion, than a piece of direct quotation. For instance, is it not easier for a child to enter into the spirit of the first of the following stanzas than into that of the second, granting even that it is difficult to conceive the anguish of the father?

The father came on deck. He gasped, “O God! thy will be done!” Then suddenly a rifle grasped, And aimed it at his son: “Jump--far-out, boy, into the wave! Jump, or I fire!” he said; “That only chance your life can save! Jump! jump! boy!” He obeyed.

He sank--he rose--he lived--he moved, And for the ship struck out: On board we hailed the lad beloved, With many a manly shout. His father drew, in silent joy, Those wet arms round his neck, And folded to his heart his boy-- Then fainted on the deck.

In the second place, the reason for choosing selections in which the emotion is akin to those of the child’s own experience must be clear. How many pupils ten or eleven years old can be expected to enter into the spirit of Whittier’s _The Barefoot Boy_?

Blessings on thee, little man-- Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still, Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy! I was once a barefoot boy!

It is only to discourage him, to ask him to feel like an adult who looks back upon the joys of boyhood. One hears this selection read in an affected voice and manner, where it is clear that the child is simply trying to imitate his teacher. But such experiences simply go to prove the contention that children should not be called upon to represent emotions far removed from their own experience.

But how shall we get our pupils to express emotions beyond their experience? The answer is: the teacher should strive to find those experiences in the child’s life that are similar to those of the selection to be read. We have shown how this might be done in the line from Wolsey’s speech. The child has experienced regret; let us make use of this experience to get him to feel something of Wolsey’s feeling. Again (and this applies largely to advanced classes), it is by no means necessary that the pupil should ever have come into contact with the picture that stirs the writer, in order to represent the latter’s feelings. It is the joy that the lover of nature feels that finds expression in these lines:

How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole’s nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow, Where the freshest berries grow, Where the ground-nut trails its vine; Where the wood-grape’s clusters shine; Of the black wasp’s cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay.

--_The Barefoot Boy._ WHITTIER.

But how can we get the true expression from one who knows nothing of the joy we take in contemplating the pictures of this stanza? By reminding him that our joy is not far different from his when rejoicing in a beautiful book, a lucky hit at baseball, or a pretty Christmas gift. Let us remember that it is not enough that he shall get the pictures: he must get the joy. And if he cannot get the joy from the pictures of the poet, he must get it from the memory of his own past joy, no matter under what circumstances. It is simply a question of transferring his own past emotion to the present moment.

Summarized, our points are:

First, choose emotions near to the child’s experience.

Second, transfer his past experiences and emotions to the particular poem or stanza to be read.

Third, use direct discourse, in drill work, as far as possible.

Perhaps it would not be advisable to use selections in our reading lessons that call for an extremely difficult exercise of imagination on the part of the child, but since these selections are found in our reading books it is well to know how to do the best possible under the circumstances.

The most important point of all is that children must be brought into contact with nature. We cannot expect them to delight in a description of a sunset, or a robin’s nest, or a bunch of pansies, when they have never delighted in sunsets, or robins’ nests or pansies. When their early training is wise they will not need to transfer their emotions from another realm to read with true expression.

We are now to enter the more complex realm of expression, in which the emotion is more intense, and instead of being a single emotion is a blending of many. Take, for example, the trial scene from _The Merchant of Venice_. There are many speeches of Shylock that might illustrate our point, and we shall take the first that presents itself. The Duke of Venice has been urging Shylock to abandon his suit, whereupon the latter replies:

I have possessed your grace of what I purpose; And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn, To have the due and forfeit of my bond.

What emotions does Shylock portray? There is the emotion of hatred of Antonio and the feeling of obstinacy; and there is, further, the sense of wrong that has been heaped upon his race in general, and himself in particular. It would be useless to discuss how far each of these elements is an emotion. It is sufficient for our purpose to have shown that these three mental conditions are present virtually at one time in the brain of the speaker. Now, if any one of these elements (to say nothing of others that might be mentioned) is omitted, the characterization will lack truthfulness.

There is another element in complexity of expression that needs a moment’s attention. The emotion itself may be a simple one, but the character we aim to represent may be so far removed from our own that one must assume or take on many attributes. For instance, if one were portraying old Adam in _As You Like It_, he would be compelled to manifest the weakness of old age in body and voice. Now, when the old man says, “Dear master, I can go no further; O, I die for food,” it is not sufficient for the reader to portray simply the pathos of the line, but his expression becomes more complex in so far as it must manifest both the pathos and the weakness.

In preparing to present the emotions in the following extracts it is well for the student to study carefully the nature of the thought, the emotion, and the character separately, and conceive each of the simpler emotional elements by itself. If he is representing, let us say, pathos and dignity, let him hold dignity before his mind until the whole being responds; then let him conceive pathos by itself; and, finally, let him conceive pathos _and_ dignity, and endeavor to present them. This process will not be necessary in all cases; for there are those who can conceive these more complex conditions with one effort, as it were. But unless the student has this ability, the preceding process should be followed. And even when a student has the necessary ability to conceive the complete expression at once, he is very likely to lose some of what might be called the ingredients of a composite emotion. For instance, in representing the strong language of one who might be said never to lose his anger, the student who is particularly choleric by nature is very likely to forget the dignity of the character. He may be reminded of his error by recalling dignity to his mind, and at once the natural temperament of the speaker will be modified by the new stimulus.

It might also be well to consider here another reason for the practice of these illustrations. Many students are temperamentally restricted and shy, and others have become so through training and environment. Before these can hope to become effective readers there must be a certain amount of genuine abandon. Hence, even if a student may never have any use for the ability to impersonate, the practice here recommended will prove to be one of the best, surest, and quickest methods of bringing him out of himself. The abandon thus gained will stand him in good stead in any effort he may be called upon to make as a public speaker.

Let it be remembered that niceties of form are not to be expected for a long time. If the student’s abandon is developed, that is all that should be expected.

In the following speech the student must never forget that Othello is a warrior, one accustomed to command, and of large heart. His dignity, therefore, must be manifest throughout the address:

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv’d good masters,-- That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace; For, since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnished tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg’d withal,) I won his daughter with. Her father lov’d me; oft invited me; Still question’d me the story of my life, From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have passed. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it: Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth ’scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach; Of being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, And portance in my travel’s history.--

--_Othello_, Act i., Sc. 3.

Another excellent extract for practice is the following speech of Cassius from the first act of _Julius Caesar_. Note the dignity, the sarcasm, the ridicule, the contempt, and the sense of triumph:

I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be, as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born as free as Caesar; so were you: We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter’s cold as well as he: For once upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, “Darest thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?” Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plungèd in, And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roared, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, “Help me, Cassius, or I sink!” I, as Æneas, our great ancestor, Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tirèd Caesar. And this man Is now become a god, and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him.

--_Julius Caesar_, Act i., Sc. 2.

These speeches of Cassio in _Othello_ show remorse, self-contempt, with anger and regret:

CASSIO. Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh! I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

IAGO. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice; even so as one would beat his offenseless dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he’s yours.

CASSIO. I will rather sue to be despised, than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear, and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

IAGO. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

CASSIO. I know not.

IAGO. Is’t possible?

CASSIO. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

IAGO. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?

CASSIO. It has pleased the devil drunkenness, to give place to the devil wrath: one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.

IAGO. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

CASSIO. I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me, I am a drunkard. Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by-and-by a fool, and presently a beast! O, strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil.--_Othello_, Act ii., Sc. 3.

In conclusion, begin with simple emotions. Do not ask the younger pupils to represent intense pathos, great solemnity, and the like. Reserve these for the upper grades of the high school. Again, avoid the baser emotions, such as anger, hate, jealousy. Time does not permit us to enlarge on this, but the whole trend of the best psychology is in favor of this admonition. Select extracts in which the characters manifest simple, noble, inspiring, and uplifting feeling. Patriotism, self-sacrifice, love of nature, these are the themes with which the imagination of the pupils should come into contact.

The teacher is heartily advised to gather a dozen or more extracts and speeches (from this book and elsewhere) under three or four significant heads, such as patriotism, love of nature, etc., and to keep the class at each phase until definite results are attained. There is no hesitation in deprecating the method that compels teachers to teach any lesson simply because it follows, numerically, the preceding lesson. The proper method is hinted at elsewhere. A few words are now added to justify that method. In many readers there may be two patriotic selections; one at the beginning, one at the end. Probably a year will intervene between these two. Is it not good pedagogy to take up these lessons in succession? To keep the pupils in a patriotic mood for five consecutive days must be certainly productive of better results than can be obtained by the other method of Lesson I, Lesson II, Lesson III. So also with other emotions. When a certain emotion is present in only one or two paragraphs of a selection, only those paragraphs need, of course, to be prepared.