4. THE REFLEX

In the Reflex principle the palm is directed toward some part of the body (see Figs. 11 and 12). The hand touches or strikes the head in deep thought, bewilderment, or distraction; e.g. Hamlet in driving himself to devise means to

"catch the conscience" of the King, exclaims, "About, my brain!" The hand is directed toward the torso in referring to soul, affection, heart, self, as in the words, "Hold, hold, my heart; and you, my sinews, grow not instant old, but bear me stiffly up." The hand clutches some part of the vital organs in physical pain, as in the words of King John, "O, I am poisoned."

The Reflex, then, is used in concentration, reflection, arrogance, self-abnegation, self-menace, convulsion. Such expression fully warrants that this principle be classed as Emotive in nature. Sentences illustrating the Reflex:

Shakespeare.

(1) Do I look like a cudgel? (2) I am the Emperor and the incomparable archer of Rome.

(3) And for that name that is no part of thee take all myself.

-Shakespeare.

5. THE CLASPED

In hands Clasped the palms are brought together and the fingers and thumbs are clasped or interlocked (see Figs. 13 and 14). This principle is seen when the hands are wrung in grief, anguish, and remorse; and when they are extended upward in

FIG. 13. HANDS CLASPED

FIG. 14. HANDS CLASPED

supplication, which is emphasized when the hands are drawn nearer to the body and the elbows raised and extended at a sharper angle. It is also recognized in the eager grasp of the hand and the hearty hand shake of friendship, in which the palms are pressed together in cordiality and sympathy. In expression, then, the Clasped hands respond to the Emotive nature, and are used in prayer, entreaty, supplication, adoration, deep sorrow, anguish, and remorse.

Sentences illustrating the Clasped:

(1) Dead! both my boys! When you sit at the feast, and are wanting a great song for Italy free, let none look at me. - Mrs. Browning.

(2) What wilt thou do? Thou wilt not murder me? Help, help, ho!-Shakespeare.

(3) Thou shalt judge. Thine, Jehovah, is the vengeance. Thou alone canst send it. - Daly.

6. THE AVERSE

In the Averse principle the hand is turned away at a positive angle with the forearm (see Figs. 15 and 16). It is closely related to the Prone, though the exact angle at which the Prone ends and the Averse begins is not to be marked by hard-and-fast lines. It is necessary to distinguish between these two principles

FIG. 15. HAND AVERSE

FIG. 16. HANDS AVERSE

because of their wide divergency in expression. Benediction and aversion, so different in character, require different principles of gesture. This difference is shown at the wrist. At an obtuse angle the Averse expresses admonition, reproof, or repression; at a sharper angle, aversion, repulsion, and fear; at a still sharper angle, with the fingers spread apart, extreme fear, terror, horror, and loathing. Because a part of these sentiments belong to the Emotive and a part to the Vital nature the Averse principle is classified as pivotal between the two.

Sentences illustrating the Averse:

(1) Away, slight man.

Shakespeare.

(2) O most cursed fiend! . . . Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. Shakespeare.

(3) Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!

66

Shakespeare.

(4) Imperial?" Away with it. I do not like the sound of it.

-Jefferson.

7. THE CLENCHED

In the Clenched principle of gesture the fingers are bound together by the thumb into a solid mass (see Figs. 17 and 18). Its significance is universally understood. All grades of civilization know that the Clenched fist signifies preparation for physical conflict, the enforcement of strong passion, determi

FIG. 17. HAND CLENCHED

FIG. 18. HANDS CLENCHED

nation, or force of will. It is man's weapon of attack, and therefore responds most fully to the Vital nature. It is used in sentiments dominated by great physical energy, such as courage, defiance, hate, anger, and revenge. It is much used by the orator when he desires to enforce a thought with great vigor.

Sentences illustrating the Clenched :

(1) If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. Shakespeare.

(2) I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit.—Shakespeare. (3) Whether he be a privy councilor or a parasite my answer would be a blow. - Grattan.

(4) Now let it work. Mischief, thou art a foot, take thou what course thou wilt. Shakespeare.

All the above principles are used in dramatic action, but the orator in public address seldom uses more than four of them, the Supine, the Prone, the Index, and the Clenched.

Selection illustrating the Principles of Gesture.

NOTE. The student should analyze the following selection, determine from the foregoing discussion the principles of gesture to be employed, and apply them to delivery.

CAUGHT IN THE QUICKSAND

VICTOR HUGO

It sometimes happens that a man, traveler or fisherman, walking on the beach at low tide, far from the bank, suddenly notices that for several minutes he has been walking with some difficulty. The strand beneath his feet is like pitch; his soles stick in it; it is sand no longer; it is glue.

The beach is perfectly dry, but at every step he takes, as soon as he lifts his foot, the print which it leaves fills with water. The eye, however, has noticed no change; the immense strand is smooth and tranquil; all the sand has the same appearance; nothing distinguishes the surface which is solid from that which is no longer so; the joyous little crowd of sand flies continue to leap tumultuously over the wayfarer's feet. The man pursues his way, goes forward, inclines to the land, endeavors to get nearer the upland.

He is not anxious. Anxious about what? Only he feels, somehow, as if the weight of his feet increases with every step he takes. Suddenly he sinks in.

He sinks in two or three inches. Decidedly he is not on the right road; he stops to take his bearings; now he looks at his feet. They have disappeared. The sand covers them. He draws them out of the sand; he will retrace his steps. He turns back, he sinks in deeper. The sand comes up to his ankles; he pulls himself out and throws himself to the left. the sand half-leg deep. He throws himself to the right; the sand comes up to his knees. Then he recognizes with unspeakable terror that he is caught in the quicksand, and that he has beneath him the terrible medium in which man can no more walk than the fish can swim. He throws off his load if he has one, lightens himself as a ship in distress; it is already too late. He calls, he waves his hat or his