be found; the artist must create it by synthetic work.

You have a fine voice, but be certain it has its defects. Your
articulation is vicious, and the gestures upon which you pride yourself,
are, in most cases, unnatural. Do not rely upon the fire of momentary
inspiration. Nothing is more deceptive. The great Garrick said: "I do
not depend upon that inspiration which idle mediocrity awaits." Talma
declared that he absolutely calculated all effects, leaving nothing to
chance. While he recited the scene between Augustus and Cinna, he was
also performing an arithmetical operation. When he said:

"Take a chair, Cinna, and in everything
Closely observe the law I bid you heed"--

he made his audience shudder.

The orator should not even think of what he is doing. The thing should
have been so much studied, that all would seem to flow of itself from
the fountain.

But where find this square, this intellectual compass, that traces for
us with mathematical precision, that line of gestures beyond which the
orator must not pass? I have sought it for a long time, but in vain.
Here and there one meets with advice, sometimes good but very often
bad. For example, you are told that the greater the emotion, the
stronger should be the voice. Nothing is more false. In violent emotion
the heart seems to fill the larynx and the voice is stifled. In all such
counsels it behooves us to search out their foundation, the reason that
is in them, to ask if there is a type in nature which serves as their
measure.