CHAPTER XIV

CLIMAXES

In Genung’s _Practical Rhetoric_ we find the following definition of Climax: “This figure, which depends upon the law that a thought must have _progress_, is the ordering of thought and expression so that there shall be uniform and evident increase in significance, or interest, or intensity.”

An excellent illustration of increase in Significance is found in the following speech from Regulus:

The artisan had forsaken his shop, the judge his tribunal, the priest the sanctuary, and even the stern stoic had come forth from his retirement.

Here the author desires to show that the return of Regulus had thrown all Carthage into a state of intense excitement. The artisan, who could ill afford to lose his day’s labor, had left his shop to join the throng that was taking its way to the great square of the city. The judge, whose duty it was to administer justice, could not refrain from joining the crowd. The priest, whose sacred office was to tend the altars of the gods, he too, for once, was neglecting his duty. And even the stern stoic, whose philosophy taught him to remain unmoved under any and all conditions of life, even he, perforce, must mix with the multitude thronging the Carthaginian streets. Each succeeding clause presents to us a more unusual disturbance of the normal condition of Carthaginian affairs; and the climax is reached when even the man whose whole philosophy teaches him never to be moved, is impelled to do violence to his life-long convictions.

In the following lines from Lord Chatham’s speech we have an illustration of the climax of Intensity:

If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms! Never! Never! Never!

The verbal expression does not progress; and yet the emotion increasing in force, as the mind dwells upon the thought, finds vent in increasing intensity of vocal expression. It may be well to note that by increasing the intensity is not necessarily meant greater loudness or higher pitch; but greater intensity of feeling, which may result in greater loudness or higher pitch, or, on the other hand, in deeper, more controlled, or more dignified expression.

We have thus far been considering simple and palpable forms of climaxes. Let us turn now to the examination of the more difficult and complex. The following speech is uttered by Marullus, one of the tribunes, in the first scene of the first act of _Julius Caesar_. We recall the fact that Marullus appears to be greatly surprised that the citizens of Rome should dress themselves in holiday garb and make holiday to celebrate the return of the victorious Caesar. He inquires of them what is their purpose in thus celebrating; and, after considerable bantering, one of the crowd remarks that they make holiday to see Caesar, and to rejoice in his triumph, whereupon Marullus speaks:

Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb’d up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome: And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.

The first three ideas are arranged in order of climax. It may be termed a climax of Significance. But we must not lose sight of the fact that, throughout the speech, as the emotion of Marullus increases, we shall have a climax in Intensity. In line 4, we have another climax, reaching its height on the word “worse.” Then, with “many a time and oft,” begins another climax, which, with occasional diminutions, continues to “shores.” In the next four lines we have a climax which is intensified by contrast. The word “now” is full of reproof and condemnation; and by the time the speaker utters the words “over Pompey’s blood” he is so overcome with the enormity of the crime that, with the utmost fervor, he urges the mob to run to their houses and pray to the gods to refrain from visiting upon their heads the rightful punishment of their ingratitude.

This cursory analysis of the speech has shown us that while there is a steady increase in intensity from the first word to the last, there are, besides, many smaller climaxes in Significance. We find these in lines 1 to 3, line 4, lines 6 to 16, lines 17 to 20, lines 22 to 24. It may be said in passing, that the climax in lines 17 to 20 forms a very interesting study. “Best attire,” “holiday,” “strew flowers in his way,” are plainly arranged in order of climax, while the three “now’s” are evidently an anti-climax. The first “now” is most significant, while the last is of very little importance. On the other hand, the fact of strewing flowers in Caesar’s way is clearly a very much more striking mark of their ingratitude than that of merely putting on their best attire.

Just as in the long paragraph that we have analyzed we find a climax, so in a drama or in a poem we find this steady progression. That scene which is the climax of the action is gradually led up to by successive steps, each one more significant and intense than the preceding. The artist is careful not to destroy his effect by anti-climax, for to do so would be to lessen the interest of the audience, and consequently defeat the very purpose of the drama or story. The play of _The Merchant of Venice_ illustrates this. Each scene manifestly increases the intensity which finally culminates in the trial scene, after which the play, being a comedy, descends to a restful close at the end of the fifth act.

In recitation the ordinary climax of Significance presents no great difficulty for the reader. As soon as he appreciates the fact of the growth in significance, he will manifest that increase in greater loudness or intensity, or increase of passion. It may be well to repeat that the increase need not be in loudness, nor is it necessary that the pitch of the voice be raised; but there will unquestionably be some form of climax in the expression. The difficulty begins when the climax is made up of smaller climaxes, as in the example from _Julius Caesar_, or when a climax is, so to speak, one of considerable length. In the latter case, the utmost care must be used to husband one’s resources, that when the moment of intensest feeling is reached, there shall be sufficient power to produce the required result. One of the most striking defects in oratory, recitation, and acting, is the inability to present climaxes artistically. Either from a failure to perceive their literary value, or from lack of control, or other limitations of technique, the effect is often spoiled, with most disastrous results. The student, then, is advised to determine carefully that point of a passage or story where the strongest effect is to be made, and then to be careful to subordinate all else to this.

GRADATION

This feature of literary art may appropriately be considered in connection with Climax. The law of gradation demands that the progress from the smaller to the greater be gradual and regular. In the musical and elocutionary arts this is by no means an easy task, and great care must be taken to reserve the strongest effects for the culmination of the climax. This is not difficult when the climax is short, but in the longer examples one requires all the art at his command.

To assist in rendering a climax artistically, let the reader bear in mind the end from the beginning. Then the temptation to overdo the less important details will be reduced.

ANTONY. O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever livèd in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-- Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue,-- A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife, Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quartered with the hands of war, All pity choked with custom of fell deeds; And Caesar’s spirit, ranging for revenge, With Até by his side, come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men groaning for burial.

--_Julius Caesar_, Act iii., Sc. 1.

CASSIUS. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, As well as I do know your outward favor. Well, honor is the subject of my story.-- 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 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. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake: ’tis true, this god did shake: His coward lips did from their color fly; And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, Did lose his luster. I did hear him groan; Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas it cried, “Give me some drink, Titinius,” As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone. [_Shout. Flourish._

BRUTUS. Another general shout! I do believe that these applauses are For some new honors that are heaped on Caesar. CASSIUS. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonorable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus, and Caesar: what should be in that Caesar? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy;--conjure with ’em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! When went there by an age, since the great flood, But it was famed with more than with one man? When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, That her wide walls encompassed but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough, When there is in it but one only man. O, you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brooked The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king.

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

In the preceding illustration it must be remembered that the description of the rescue of Caesar from the Tiber is only the beginning of Cassius’ plan; and that his object is to cite the illustrations of Caesar’s weakness, and finally to lead up to that subtle flattery with which the “Instigation” speech closes.

It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him is an atrocious crime; to put him to death is almost parricide; but to crucify him--what shall I call it?

I know it, I concede it, I confess it, I proclaim it.

When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan.

If there be one among you who can say that ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions did belie my tongue, let him stand forth and say it. If there be three in all your company dare face me on the bloody sands, let them come on.

O comrades, warriors, Thracians,--if we must fight, let us fight for _ourselves_! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our _oppressors_! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by the bright water, in noble, honorable battle!

Next morning, waking with the day’s first beam, He said within himself, “It was a dream!” But the straw rustled as he turned his head, There were the cap and bells beside his bed; Around him rose the bare, discolored walls, Close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls, And in the corner, a revolting shape, Shivering and chattering, sat the wretched ape. It was no dream; the world he loved so much Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch!

Have I not, since first my youthful arms could wield a spear, conquered your armies, fired your towns, and dragged your generals at my chariot wheels?

Remember that Greece had her Alexander, Rome her Caesar, England her Cromwell, France her Bonaparte, and that, if we would escape on the rock on which they split, we must avoid their errors.

“But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America.” Oh, inestimable right! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right! the assertion of which has cost this country thirteen provinces, six islands, one hundred thousand lives, and seventy millions of money.

This last example is a peculiar one. Under ordinary circumstances thirteen provinces would be more valuable than six islands, and surely one hundred thousand lives are more valuable than seventy millions of money. On the other hand, the figures in the last three phrases certainly rise to a climax. On the whole, I think it better to regard this as an oratorical climax, understanding Burke not to have had in mind anything more than to present the losses of England, as each occurred to him, while his emotion and indignation rise with each enumeration.

The climax is a very important feature in reading. It stimulates the imagination and feelings, and, through them, the voice. It should be remembered that no definite method of expressing a climax vocally can be laid down. In one case the pitch may rise; in another it may fall. Sometimes the force increases; at other times it diminishes. Hence, the admonition so often given must be repeated: Do not tell the pupil to raise his voice, or to speak louder. Work at his imagination. If there be a climax there, it will come out in his expression.

Frequent drills in climax will do much to give flexibility, power, and range to the voice. And that, too, in a far more rational way than through any mechanical exercises in pitch and force.

The following plan of presenting climaxes to classes has been found extremely helpful:

Read the following sentence carefully to yourself. Notice each clause, and try to discover if there is not something here that we have not had before. I want to ask you not to read more than that sentence until you have studied over it for some time. “It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen; to scourge him is an atrocious crime; to put him to death is almost parricide; but to crucify him--what shall I call it?”

We have here another method used by writers and speakers for making an idea more striking. In this case, the speaker is condemning one who has caused the crucifixion of a Roman. The orator desires to impress upon the judges the seriousness of the offense. How does he do it? Instead of speaking at once about the crucifying of the victim, he begins by showing that a far less serious punishment was a grave offense against the Roman law. He says, “It is an outrage to bind a Roman citizen.” Then he goes another step, saying: “To scourge him is an atrocious crime.” Worse still: “To put him to death” (by any means) “is almost parricide.” And now, having shown that less extreme methods of punishment were great crimes, the orator is ready for his final statement: “But to crucify him--what shall I call it?” In other words, the speaker seems to have exhausted his vocabulary in giving names to lower crimes; when he comes to a name with which to describe the crime of crucifying a Roman, he finds his vocabulary does not have one strong enough. Do you not see how powerful an effect such an arrangement of clauses must have? It is much stronger than if the speaker had said merely, “I know no word to describe the crime of crucifying a Roman citizen.”

Analyze the following sentence, and explain how the thought is made more striking by this kind of arrangement. “I know it, I concede it, I confess it, I proclaim it.”

This method of increasing the effect is called climax. Whenever, for any reason, a speaker or writer keeps on adding thought to thought, making each succeeding idea stronger than the preceding, we have a climax. Although you may never have called it by this name you have used it many times. If you were determined to do a certain thing you might say, “I can do it, I will do it, I must do it.” Well, that is a climax. Or you might say, “You can’t have it for ten dollars, for fifty dollars, for a hundred dollars.” That is another climax.

Note this example: “If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms! never! never! never!” This, too, is a climax, each of the last three “never’s” being stronger than the preceding. If you will put yourself in the position of the speaker, you will soon feel that each “never” after the first is the result of stronger, more intense feeling. If you will think of it in this way you will notice the effect in your expression.

We shall close this lesson with two illustrations. Your teacher will tell you the story from which these extracts are taken, and then you will prepare them very carefully, taking particular pains to note the climax in each.

When a wind from the lands they had ruin’d awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like a wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter’d navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags, To be lost evermore in the main.

--_The Revenge._ TENNYSON.

And thro’ the centuries let a people’s voice In full acclaim, A people’s voice, The proof and echo of all human fame, A people’s voice, when they rejoice At civic revel and pomp and game, Attest their great commander’s claim With honor, honor, honor, honor to him, Eternal honor to his name.

--_Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington._ TENNYSON.