BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME FROM THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND ^ THE GIFT OF Z891 .J^V/^^/^S:S.. ^..4//fM.3. Cornell University Library arV14442 The elements of elocution, with special 3 1924 031 386 604 olin.anx B Cornell University fj Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924031386604 THE Elements of Elocution, WITH SPECIAL REPEBENCE TO THE LITERARY BASIS OF DELIVERY, SELECTIONS IN POETRY AND PROSE FOR READING AND RECITATION. Jl (Ela00-^0ok iax §,choals atti ^ribitte ,Sttti)«ttt9. BY CHARLES E. OLEGG, Lecinrer on Elocuiion at Yorkshire Untied College, Bradford, and Lancashire College, Manchester, and Lecljtrer on English Literature and Elocution at the Liverpool Young Men's Christian Association. LONDON : GEORGE PHILIP 'fe SON, 32 FLEET STREET, E.G. LIVERPOOL : 46 TO 61 SOUTH CASTLE STREET. 1890. All Rights Hesened. PREFACE. The time has gone by for emphasizing the necessity of Elocu- tion : its utility is self-evident in every walk of life, particularly in public life. What teachers have now to do is to make their instruction of practical service to every learner. We can best accomplish this by setting forth the true basis of Elocution, showing that its roots are in human nature no less than in Art. There is no attempt in these few pages to compass the whole subject of Elocution ; I simply define the elements and their relationships, and at the same time raise into due importance the literary aspect of Elocution. In my opinion too much attention has been given to the trivialities of display, while the fundamental principles binding together thought and speech have been proportionately neglected. A better state of things cannot prevail till there is more universal reverence and affection for literature as the artistic embodiment of human life and character. I beg to acknowledge with thanks the courtesy of the following Authors and Publishers in granting permission to reprint copyright pieces. — Mr. Lewis Carroll ; Mr Eric Mackay ; Messrs. James Nisbet & Co.; Messrs. Kegan, Paul, Trubner & Co., publishers of the " Lotos '' edition of the poems of Mr. Eric Mackay; Mr. George Allen, publisher of Mr. Ruskin's works. Should any copyright piece have been inserted without permission, I most heartily apologize to the holders, assuring them that every care has been taken to avoid such trespass. C. E. C. Mount Pleasabt, LlVERPOOIi, Sept. Wth, 1890. CONTENTS. Preface THE ELEMENTS OP ELOCUTION. Elocution ; Introduction „ Part I. — The Matter „ Part II. — The Mechanism ,, Part III. — The Manner „ „ Gesture ,, Vocal Exercises 1 2 17 23 31 32 Part IV.— SELECTIONS— POETRY. (A) Dramatic. The Merchant of Venice — Act I., sc. III. Shakspere 1 Othello— Act I., sc. III. , 34 The Merchant of Venice- -ActlV, sc. L 38 Julius Cfesar — Act IL, sc. II. 47 )) Act III., sc. II. 50 J) ActIV.,sc.in. 57 Macbeth — ActllL, sc. I. 61 Henry the Fourth — ActIL,sc. IV. 65 Henry the Eighth — Actin.,sc. n. 68 As You TiiVe It — Act IIL, sell. 75 Hamlet — Act III., sc. I. 78 }) Act II., sc. II. 79 Richard the Third- Act IV., sc. II. 82 King John — Act IV., sc. I. 85 VI. Contents. Soliloquies and Speeches. Queen Mab Gloster's Soliloquy Henry the Fifth before Agincourt Miscellaneous Dialogues, The Honeymoon (Scene from) The School for Scandal ,, . . She Stoops to Conquer ,, The Rivals ,, . . Essex and Spenser (from " Imaginary Conversations") (B) Lyric. The Bridge of Sighs The Children The Children's Hour . The Arsenal The Day is Done Beethoven at the Piano The Waking of the Lark To a Mouse Honest Poverty Hymn to the Sunrise Annabel Lee. The Passions (C) Narrative. An Old Dominie's Story The Singing Leaves Hiawatha and the Pearl Feather Barbara Fritchie Maud Miiller Ginevra I>AGK )) 89 51 90 " 92 Tobin 93 SJieridan 97 Goldsmith 101 Sheridan 105 Landor 109 Hood 113 Attributed to Dickens 114 Longfellow 116 Longfellow 117 Longfellow 118 Uric Mackay 120 . Eric Mackay 13 Burns 122 Burns 123 Coleridge 124 Poe 126 Collins 25 Robert Buchanan 127 J. E. Lowell 130 Longfellow 133 Whittier 131 Whittier 142 Sogers 8 Contents. (D) Descriptive. PAGE The Bishop and the Caterpillar Anon. U4 The BeUs Poe 150 Guild's Signal Bret Harte 153 Human Xature Anon. 154 The Field of Waterloo Byron 155 The Legend Beautiful Longfellow 157 The Ropewalk Longfelloiv 160 The Opening of the Piano 0. ir. Holmes 162 Queen Mab (a Fairy Tale) Hood 163 The Dream of the ReveUer C. ilachay 164 The WeU of St. Keyne Southey 166 A Landscape Sketch Keats 167 The Noi-man Barou Longfellow 15 {E) Reflective. Autobiography On Re-ATsiting the Banks of the "Wye London, September, 1802 London, 1802 . . Lines written in Early Spring F. R. Havergal 170 Wordsicorth 174 Wordsivorth 176 . Wo7-dsworth 177 Wordsivortli 16 MiSCELLAN-EOUS SELECTIONS. The Parting of the T\'ays . J. R. Lowell 177 The Heritage .... J. R. Loicell 180 The Walrus and the Carpenter Lewis Carroll 182 Abou Ben Ad hem and the Angel Leigh Hunt 185 Tubal Cain .... C. JIackay 186 Contest between the Nose and the Eyes Cotvper 186 The Bachelor's Dream Hood 187 A Parental Ode Hood 28 Contents. SELECTIONS— PROSE. Eloquence. On the Outbreak of Hostilities with China On War .... Knowledge and the Aspiration of Youth, Parliamentary Reform Naeeative. The Three Cherry-Stones An Attic Philosopher in Paris Descriptive. Copperfield's Housekeeping A City by Night . Coverley Hall .... Coverley Sabbath . . . . Skating Experiences The Death of Little Dombey . A Shipwreck at Yarmouth A Rainy Sunday in an Inn The Sky An M.P.'s Secretary PAGE Gladstone 189 Bright 193 Disraeli 195 Macaulay 197 Anon. 199 Souvestre 202 Dickens 206 Carlyle 210 Addison 212 Addison 215 Dickens 217 Dickens 222 Dickens 225 W. Irving 229 Ruskin 232 Dickens 234 Index to Authors 238 ELOCUTION. line 16, r KRATA. e 12, sad bondman's for bondsman 17, >, 29, ,, depend „ depends. ■27 „ 16, , clash ,, clasp. 47, „ 22, , have „ hath. 00, >, 15, humour „ honour. 165, ., 31, , sound ,, sounds. 378. „ 13, , fragrance ,, fragnance 179, „ 17, , woman „ women. 233, M 1, , sometimes ,, sometime. vey similar impressions T;o~aEIier mmas. iSEin zo tne poei; s art of interpreting nature and life first-hand, is the art that seeks to articulate the sights and feelings of the poet : the art of representing in human tones the lights and shades, the heights and depths of passion and imagination. In these pages we shall consider elocution as connected inseparably, though not exclusively, with passion and conception : as that scheme of exposition by which mind appreciates mind through the medium of the voice and its accompaniments. And he who would truly read Uke "he who would truly write a great poem, ought himself to be a true poem.'' II. We may give a more practical definition of elocution. It is the art of expressing all communicable thought, written 2 The Elements of Elocution. and impromptu, with clearness and propriety. Clearness relating to the mechanical utterance of words; propriety con- cerning itself with the apprehension of the subject-matter, and everything affectiag the reflection of the author's mind as it appears in paragraph or verse. For convenience and simplicity we shall divide our subject into three parts : — (1) The Matter, or that which is to be expressed ; (2) The Mechanism, or vehicle of expression ; and (3) The Manner, or symboHsm of expression. This threefold view of elocution gives room for a brief ex- amination of the nature of literature, of the vocal organs, and of expression. (A.) POETRY. (B.) PROSE. III. (A.) Poetry. — Before we can successfully re-create the work of an author vocally, we must in a manner appropriate his mind. With such as Goldsmith, Longfellow, and Dickens, the task will be comparatively easy. Shakspere, Milton, Browning, Carlyle, and the like, will exact much more from us ; here we shall find a heavy call upon our imagination, sympathy, and experience, such, indeed, that we can never hope to fully meet. It matters not, however, whether the subject be trifling or profound, we must obey the principle of adopting with all possible nearness the author's attitude toward his subject. Our first act must be to immerse ourselves in the spirit of the composition we wish to read : leaving the consideration of voice and gesture until we have caught every point of the author's meaning. When the intellect becomes mature, a The Elements of Elocution. 3 suitable form of delivery will appear in umon with the aim of the writer : this is one reason why a skilled elocutionist can interpret literature so much more readily than others. If you give critical attention to public readers or reciters who have had no systematic training, or who lack the " literary faculty,'' you will find them confuse the literary elements of a composition. That is, they will probably narrate where they should describe, and describe where they should narrate, or declaim where they need merely to explain. The richest voice and most elegant gesture, though they may do much, cannot compensate for habitual misapprehension of this kind. In order, then, to gain a clearer notion of the elements represent- able in speech, the student must know something of the lead- ing constituents of literature as an embodiment of mind- Some such scheme as we here give, though incomplete and unsatisfactory in many ways, may help to greater facility of apprehension, and show the propriety of consonance between mind and voice. IV. Take Poetry first. Everyone will see reason in our distinguishing between the material of Gowper's "John Gilpin'' and Shelley's " Skylark " : one a humorous story, and the other jin outburst of emotional admiration. Again, the play of " The Merchant of Venice " is different in substance and structure from the " Paradise Lost " or the "Light of Asia." Further, Pope's " Essay on Man," with its connected chains of reason, is altogether unlike Goldsmith's description of the " Country Clergyman," or Byron's exciting picture of "Water- loo." From this we gather that there are certain large elements, more or less distinct, which, existing in separate or in mixed 4 The Elements of Elocution. form, may be said to constitute the great mass of literature. The poem will of course take its definition from the prevailing element. Generally speaking, poetry is resolvable into the following five classes : — 1. Narrative = Story-teUing. Examples: "John Gilpin," "Horatius," "Herve Kiel." 2. Dramatic = Dialogue. Examples : "Julius Osesar," " Othello," etc. 3. Lyric = Emotional. Examples: "The Skylark," "Hymn to the Sunrise," " The Day is done." 4. Descriptive = Pictorial. Examples : "The Field of Waterloo," "HohenUnden," "The Cottar's Saturday Night." 5. Reflective = Didactic, Argumentative. Examples: "Thfe Task," " Essay on Man." It will at once be seen that while each class of poem represents a given state of mind, the whole five states of mind enter into some poems ; many will contain three, and others only two, and some few have but one element. V. We are now face to face with the real question : shall we deliver a poem that combines within itself, say, three elements, in the spirit of the leading element, and ignore the other two ? No. We must at all times, as a fixed principle, accommodate our mood to that of the poem, however it may change. In this way we make the Manner accord perfectly with the Matter, and so accompKsh our purpose. Were it necessary for the exponent of poetry to possess the creative genius of the poet, and at the same time the poet to have the art of the reader, there is a possibility that we should have few of either. Fortunately this is not so : but it con- cerns us to know that what fills the mind of the author The Elements of Elocution. 5 ought, in some degree, to occupy the mind of the reader, while he reads aloud, as well as during his study of the poet. Or it may be put thus : "We are the workmen ; speech, look and gesture are our materials, and the poem is the design to be implicitly followed : consequently an irreproachable copy depends on the truth of our conception and the knowledge we have of our materials. From all this we may argue that any person bringing to the work of an author a fixed habit or mannerism, prevents the direct reflection of the author's mind, and so violates the first principle of vocal and mental union. Let us learn to approach literature, as the wiser scientists approached nature, with simplicity and openness of mind, and literature, like nature, wiU withhold no secrets. VI. In Preparing a Selection for Recitation we might adopt this fashion of inquiry : — 1. What are its elements ? 2. What the real gist of the poem, and where its climax ? 3. What parts come next in importance to the climax ? 4. Where will gesture help the matter, or, appropriately, supplement the delivery ? There are poems, beautiful and effective, that seem to have no conspicuous climax or crisis, the temperature being uniform throughout. " The Village Blacksmith " and " Maud Miiller " in many respects are of this class, while the " Bridge of Sighs," " Charge of the Light Brigade," and " Horatius " are remark- able for climax. Apply this our analytical test to "The Charge of the Light Brigade." 1. We find four elements present: Descriptive, narrative, dramatic, and lyric. The body of the poem is descrip- 6 The Elements of Elocution. tive ; the opening reveals a trace of the dramatic, and the close a trace of the lyric, while a thin narrative- thread binds the whole. 2. The gist or substance of this martial ballad is heroic obedience to duty in the face of death : the most active climax is reached when the horsemen plunge in the battery-smoke, mingle in terrible conflict with the Russians, and finally spike the guns. 3. The depiction of their return is slightly inferior as a rhetorical cUmax, but eloquently pathetic. The last few lines, that have the breadth and depth of national acclamation, are bold and full of enthusiasm. 4. Many carefully studied gestures are wanted to make this poem live. " Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them," etc., should have illustrative action from the right arm ; imitative sword-cuts at the climax are ad- missible ; a gesture in keeping with the acclaim of the last Une gives the poem finish. To re-emphasize this principle of the poem dictating its own style of interpretation, let us add : A If arrative piece must be uttered in a tale-telling way ; a Lyric with a suitable temperature of feeling; a Descriptive Scene with a just amount of vividness and colouring ; a Dialogue, or Drama, with suffi- cient individuaHsation of the characters ; and a Reflective, or Didactic, work with its right proportion of argumentativeness or counsel. One fact, however, keep always in mind, and that is that there are degrees of quality, from the simple, to the sublime, in each class of Hterature. For example, a tragedy usually reveals more extraordinary life than a comedy, and yet both are correctly called Dramatic literature : " Paradise Lost " and "Hiawatha,'' both Narrative in kind, difier widely in degree: The Elements of Elomtion. 7 so with the other classes. The degree of temper or spirit applied to various poems must exactly agree with the quality of the matter. "VII. The Eeading op Scriptuee. — The double rule we have laid down, respecting kind and degree, touches the Bible with the same certainty that it does other books. The "Psalms," lyrical in essence, are totally difierent from the book of " Revelation." Again, the Bible swarms with dramatic chap- ters, such as "Acts" xxiv. and xxvi., essentially dissimilar from, say, the pastoral scenes in the book of "Ruth." In all its departments the Bible stands foremost, while much of it is transcendantly loftier than anything else we know ; accord- ingly, a treatment more uniformly dignified is required for Scripture, modulated in degree to the grandeur or simplicity of its chapters. VIII. (B.) Prose. — ^What has been said with reference to the interpretation of Poetry and the Bible must, in the main, be repeated with respect to Prose. Our classification of poetry — the Lyric excepted — serves for prose. The term Lyric, never- theless, has its prose equivalent in " Eloquence " : so that by substituting "Eloquence" for "Lyric," the one order is pre- served for poetry and prose, with, practically, the same method of exposition. We do not state that prose and poetry are synonymous, requiring a common treatment — they are palpably distinct — but that the excitement created by a given spirit is the same whether the composition be a metrical or prose medium. IX. HtJMOUE, in spite of Tom Hood, reads best in prose. Students of Shakspere will have noticed that his naturally comic characters drop into prose when they speak at length. 8 The Elements of Elocution. Swift's humour is dry and demure : Addison's humour is light and sportive for the most part : the humour of Dickens is in- variably broad and merry : Holmes and Twain have an odd vein each, all to themselves. We mention humour because, as no nature is complete without a degree of it, so no reader would be an all-round representative of human experience who had not a quick perception of wit and humour. The reader needs to distinguish between these several classes of humour, or he will mistake demure absurdity for fact. The "Coverley Papers," by Addison, afford the amateur room for capital practice, and many of the funnier papers would be most wel- come to a select audience, either public or private. The mass of Englishmen love fun not less than excitement. We cannot conclude this stage of our study without urging upon the aspirant the necessity for careful and patient pre- paration of his recitals ; remembering that the hsteners have only the time the deUvery occupies in which to grasp the poem. As an interpreter he is bound to make his hearers see and feel what the author intends : this will often entail long and critical study, but it is, even on the meanest ground, preferable to the perilous course of superficial study. No reader should allow himself to speak words the meaning of which he does not fuUy comprehend. On our way, then, to establish a sound and consistent connection between litera- ture and DELIVERY, what have we found ? 1. That as Literature interprets Life and Nature, so Elocu- tion interprets Literature. 2. That literature is divisible into certain classes, each of which requires specific treatment. 3. That the rules laid down for reading and reciting stand good for extemporaneous or prepared speech of our own con- trivance. The Elements of Elocution. g X. Specimens of Naeeative, Deamatic, Lyeic, Desceiptivb, AND Reflective Poetey. The reader will note that the following elements prepon- derate in, but do not monopolize, the examples as they are classified. Three degrees of value, i.e. important, more im- portant, most important, are represented in italics, small capitals, and large capitals respectively. ISTaeeative, . . "Ginevra." Rogers. There is nothing complex ahout this poem, it is a plainly -told story in three parts. First, the appearance of a beautiful, laughing young bride ; second, her alarming disappearance ; and third, the revelation of her tragic death. The poem should be opened and continued brisltly and cheerfully till the gloom of her absence sets in upon the wedding festival. The strain of anxiety on the part of her father and guests must be realistically exhibited. Begin from " Full fifty years," etc., in an off-hand fashion, but when the secret of the chest is divulged, let the word skeleton have the most marked effect. The pathetic reference to the pearls and seal—" her mother's legacy "—should be finely treated in slow and tender tones. Pitch of Voice— Middle. She was an only child— her name Ginevra, the joy, the pride of an m- dulgent sire ; and in her iifteenth year became a bride, marrying an only son, Francesco Doria, her playmate hom her birth, and her first love. She was all gentleness, aU gaiety, her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the hour ; now, frowning, smiling, for the hundi-edtn time, the nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum ; and Ginevra, in the histre of her youth, gave her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco. Great was the joy; but, at the nuptial feast, when ah sat down, the bride was wanting there, nor was she to be found ! Her father cried, " 'Tis hut to make a trial of our love ! " and filled his glass to all ; but his hand shook, and soon from guest to guest the panic spread. 'Twas but that instant she had left Francesco, laugh- ing, and lookhig back, and flying still— her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger. But now, alas ! she was not to be found ; nor from that hour could any thing be guessed, but that she was not! Weary of his Ufe, Francesco flew to Venice, and forthwith flung it away in battle with the Turk. Oisini lived ; and long mightst thou have seen an old man wandering as in quest of something, something he could not find— ha knew not what. When he was gone, the house remained awhile Ment and tenantless — then went to strangers. V^ fifty years were past, and all forgot ; when on an idle day,— a day of search 'mid the old lumber in the gaUery,— Bassanio. Than any that draws breath in Italy." ) Shylock. "A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch ) Uncapable of pity, void and empty [• The Duke. From any dram of mercy." ) Use the following order -of vocal pitch ; — Shylock— Low. Antonio — Middle. Bassanio- Two tones higher than Antonio. Shy. Three thousand ducats, — well. Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. Sht. For three months, — well. Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound- Sht. Antonio shall become bound,— weM. Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer? Sht. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonio bound. Bass. Your answer to that. Sht. Antonio is a good man ? Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? Sht. Ho, no, no, no, no ;— my meaning, in saying he is a good man, IS to have you understand me, that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy boimd to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; 1 understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a thh-d at Mexico, a fourth for England; and other ventm-es he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land-rats, and water- rats, land-thieves, and water-thieves,— I mean, pirates; and then, there IS the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient ;—thTee thousand ducats :— I think I may take his bond The Elements of Elocution, 1 1 Bass. Be assured you may. Shy. I will be assm-ed 1 may ; and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? Bass. If it please you to dine with us. Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following ; but I will not eat with you, rfrin/c with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto ?— Who is he comes here ? £'n«er Antonio. Bass. This is simior Antonio. Shy. [Aside.] How Uke a, fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, Se lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I 'will feed fat the ancient grudge I Dear him. He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate. On me, my bargains, and my well-won thri/t, Which he calls interest. Curskl be my tribe, If I forgive him ! Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? Shy. I am debating of my present store ; And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe. Will furnish me. But soft ! How many months Do you desire ? Rest you/atV, good signior ; [To Antonio. Your worship was the last man in our mouths. Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow. By taking, nor by giving of excess. Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I'll break a custom.— 1& he yet possess'd. How much you would ? Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. Ant. And for three months. Shy. I had forgot, — three months, you told me so. Well then, your bond; and, let me see, but hear you ; Methought, you said, you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage. Ant. I do never use it. Shy. Three thousand ducats,— 'tis a good round sum. Three mouths from twelve, — then, let me see, the rate — Ant. Wellj Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ? Shy. Sigmor Antonio, many a time and oft. In the Rialto, you have rated me 1 2 The Elements of Elocution. Atout my moneys, and my usances : Still have I borne it with a, patient shrug; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe ; You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog. And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears, you need my help ; Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, Shy lock, ws would have moneys. You say so ; Yoti, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Ovr your threshold; moneys is your suit. What should I say to you 1 Should I not say, Rath a dog money ? Is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? Or Shall I bend low, and in a hond.sman's key, With bated breath, and whispering humbleness, Say this, Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spumed me such a day ; another tiine You calld me— dog ; and for these courtesies ril lend you thus much nwneys. Amt. I am as like to call thee so agaui. To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends; (for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend 1) But lend it rather to thine enemy ; Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face Exact the penalty. Shy. Why, look you, how you storm ! I would be friends with you, and have your love, Forget the shames that you have stain d me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me : This is kind I offer. Ant. This were kindness. Sht. This kindness will I show. Go with me to a notary, seal me there Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport. If you repay me not on such a day. In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit Be nominated for an eqtial pound Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your body pleaseth me. Ant. Content, in faith ; I'll seal to such a bond, And say there is much kindness in the Jew. Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : I'll rather dwell in my necessity. The Elements of Elocution. 13 Ant. Why, fear not, man : I will not forfeit it : Within these two months, that's a month before This bond expires, I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond. Shi. father Abraham, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others .'—Pray you tell me this ; If he should break his day, what should / gain By the exaction of the forfeiture ? A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man. Is not so estimable, profitable neither, As flesh of muttohs, beefs, or goats- I say. To buy his favour, I extend ihis friendship : If he wiU take it, so ; if not, adieu ; And, for my love, I pray you, wi'ong me not. Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; Give him direction for this merry bond ; And I wiU go and purse the ducats straight, See to my House, (left in the fearful guard Of an unthrifty knave,) and presently I will be with you. {Exit Shylock. Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. This Hebrew will turn Christian : he groivs kind- Bass. I Kke not fair terms, and a villain's mind. Ant. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt. Lyeic, "The Waking of the Lark," Eric Uachay. A rapturous apostrophe, as melodious and unflagging as the carol of the " priest in grey apparel," that " dainty thing on wonder's wmg, by life and love elated." In reading or reciting this Objective Lyric, the ol^int of the poet's inspiration should be addressed up to and including verse V. : verses VI. and VII. are spoken to the audience ; while the last verse is directed to the bird. Ktoh of Voice— Above the middle, but not high. bonnie bird, that in the brake, exultant, dost prepare thee — As poets do whose thoughts are true,— for wings that will upbear thee ; Oh ! tell me, tell me, bonnie bird, Canst thou not pipe of hope deferred ? Or canst thou sing of naught but Spring among the golden meadows ? 14 The Elements of Elocution. Methinks a bard (and thou art one) should suit his song to soifow. And tell of pain, as well as gain, that waits us on the morrow ; But thou art not a prophet, tliou, If naught but joy can touch thee now ; If, in thy heai-t, thou hast no vow that speaks of Nature's anguish. III. Oh 1 I have held my sorrows dear, and felt, though poor and slighted, The songs we love are those we hear when love is unrequited. But thou art still the slave of dawn. And canst not smg till night be gone, Till o'er the pathway of the fawn the sunbeams shine and quiver. Thou art the minion of the sun that rises iu his splendour, And caust not spare for Dian fair the songs that should attend her. The moon, so sad and silver-pale. Is mistress of the nightingale ; And thou wilt sing on hill and dale no ditties in the darkness. For Queen and King thou wUt not spare one note of thine outpouring ; And tiioii'rt as free as breezes be on Nature's velvet flooring. The daisy, with its hood undone. The grass, the sunlight, and the sun — These ai'e the joys, thou holy one ! that pay thee for thy singing. Oh, hush ! Oh, hush ! how wild a gush of rapture in the distance, — A roll of rhymes, a toll of chimes, a cry for love's assistance ; A sound that wells from happy throats, A flood of song where beauty floats, And where our thoughts, like golden boats, do seem to cross a river. Vll. This is the advent of the lark — the priest in grey apparel — Who doth prepare to trill in air his sinless Summer carol ; This is the prehide to the lay The birds did sing in Osesar s day. And will again, for aye and aye, in praise of God s creation. VIII. dainty thing, on wonder's wing, by life and love elated. Oh ! sing aloud from cloud to cloud, till day be consecrated; Till from the gateways of the morn. The sun, with all its light unshorn, His robes of darkness round Mm torn, doth scale the lofty heavens 1 The Elements of Elocution. 1 5 Desceiptive, "The Norman Baron," Longfellow. Here is represented the death-bed of a Baron who covers his name with honour by liberating with his last breath the slaves and vassals in his service. The influ- ences at work are the prayers of the monk, the songs of freedom sung by Saxon minstrels, and the lightning of the heavens. The progress of repentance and noble resolution must be carefully brought out amid the vivid scenic effects. The good deed, at the elevenMi hour, snatches his name from obscurity, and elevates truth and justice high over the show and fashion of the world. Give the last two verses all the breadth and dignity you can command, especially emphasising the antithesis. Pitch of Voice— Middle. In his chamber, weak and dying. Was the Norman Baron lying ; Loud, without, the tempest thundered, And the castle-tm:ret shook. In this fight was Death the gainer, Spite of vassal and retainer. And the lands his sires had plundered, Written in the Doomsday Book. By his bed a monk was seated, Who in humble voice repeated Many a prayer and pater-noster. Prom the missal on his knee ; And, amid the tempest pealing, Sounds of bells came faintly stealino-, Bells, that from the neighbouring cloister, Rang for the Nativity. In the hall, the serf and vassal Held, that night, thek Christmas wassail ; Many a carol, old and saintly, Sang the minstrels and the waits. And so loud these Saxon gleemen Sang to slaves the songs ot freemen. That the storm was heard but faintly. Knocking at the castle gates. Till at length the lays they chaunted Reached the chamber terror-haunted, Where the monk with accents holy, Whispered in the baron's ear. Tears upon his eyelids gUstened, As he paused awhile and listened. And the dying baron slowly Turned his weary head to hear "Wassail for the kingly stranger. Born and cradled in a manger ! King, like David, priest, like Aaron, Christ is born to set \iafree I " 1 6 The Elements of Elocution. And the lightning showed the sainted Figures on the casement painted, And exclaimed the shuddering baron, ^^ Miserere, Domine!" In that horn' of deep contrition, He beheld, with clearer vision, Thi'ough all outward show axA fashion, J^tstice, the Avenger, rise. All the^omp of eartJi had vanished. Falsehood and deceit were banished, Reason spake more loud than passion. And the truth wore no disguise. Every vassal of his banner. Every serf borne to his manor, All those wronged and wretched creatures By his hand were freed again. And as on the sacred missal He recorded their dismissal, Death relaxed his iron features. And the monk rephed, " Amen ! " Many centuries have been numbered Since in death t/ie baron slumbei-ed By the convenfs sculptured portal, Mingling with the common dust : But the QOOD DEED through the ages Living in historic pages Brighter grows and gleams immortal, Unconsumed by moth or rust. Reflective, " Lines Written in Early Spring." Wordsworth. The pre-ordained harmony between Nature and Man that Wordsworth contended for and preached of so eloquently is uppermost in these lines : " To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran." He shows that man lives out his best self under the refining and ennobling influences of Nature. Man divorced from nature is a failure ; " much it grieved my heart to think what man has made of man." The interpreter must dintU the thought and teaching of this poem, or he will fail to give his hearers a true impression of Wordsworth's mind. Give prominence to the doctrine of Nature having an indweliing spirit ; " 'Tis ray faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes." A calm, simple but reverent manner is the most appropriate for this poem. Ktoh of Voice— Middle, The Elements of Eloaition. 17 I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when^^easawf thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of -man. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, '^\i^ periwinkle trailed its wreathes ; And 'tis vij faith that evexy flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played. Their thoughts I cannot measure — But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill oi pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air ; And I must think, do all I can. That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lamejit What MAJS has made of man ? PART II. XI. The Medianism.. — We now come to consider in a very general way the structure and function of the instrument by which all vocal effects are produced. By way of preface to this part of our study, it wiU not be out of place to remark that the truth, vigour, and beauty of interpretation depends much upon the strength, resonance, and compass of the voice. We can do as little justice to a grand poem or a noble chapter of prose with a defective voice as a musician with an exhausted organ or tuneless piano can do to the composition of a great master. Hence, two thiags are accepted, first, that we must, if possible, secure what is called a "good voice," and secondly, B • 1 8 The Elements of Elomtion. having acquired an ample and manageable voice, learn to pre- serve it by regular and careful exercise. The exercises arranged in this book, if strictly and systematically followed, are calcu- lated not only to keep a good voice in order, but to estab- lish any voice that is capable of being trained ; and it is not too much to assert that unless some such exercises are methodically practised, no voice will maintain its tone and power. Roughly speaking, the speech-mechanism embraces the follow- ing parts, varying, of course, in their degree of importance, but all demanding the attention of the student. (1) The Lungs, (2) The Vocal Chords, (3) The Tongue, the Teeth, and the Lips. In the act of speech, the vocal chords, otherwise apart and at rest, are brought together at due tension, and as the air from the lungs strives to escape through the narrow chink, the edges of the chords vibrate and produce sound, which, modified by the upper portion of the throat and the mouth, may be articulated into words by the tongue, teeth, and lips. This, though a bald description of the process of speech- formation, will give the beginner all he needs to know at the outset. XII. (1.) The Lungs. — There is a common fallacy abroad that the normal capacity of these organs is sufficient in all cases to meet the extraordinary strain put upon them by public speak- ing and reading. For the ordinary purposes of life they may well perform their function without care on our part, but when we wish to speak long and frequently in large buildings, their power must be economised. The voice is so dependent upon the lungs that any excessive or mis-use of the latter quickly shows itself in a deterioration of tone and power. The following precepts, along with the The Elements of Elocution. 19 breathing-exercises, will help the speaker to gaia complete control over the lungs, and give ease, steadiness, and endurance to the voice. 1. Take in the breath steadily through the nostrils, and always inflate the loioer part of the chest. 2. Avoid, as a system of breathing, throwing out the upper part of the chest and drawing in the lower part. 3. Take as many deep inhalations as you conveniently can at the outstart of your recital or speech. 4. Commence to speak the instant your lungs are filled : delay causes exhaustion and confusion. 5. Remember that you control the emission of breath by the lower chest-muscles. 6. Stoop as little as possible while you speak, and refrain from gestures that unnecessarily cramp the chest. XIII. (2.) The Vocal Chords, extremely simple in struc- ture, are governed by an indescribably complicated set of muscles, the action of which can be best understood by the examination of a bullock's or human larynx. Though few details of tliis branch of our subject come within the scope of so general a view as the present, something more than a pass- ing reference may naturally be expected. Let it be remem- bered, then, that during silent respiration the vocal chords lie apart, but when we will to utter a sound they approximate. Now this coming-together of the chords is a form of attack, which it is highly important to perfect by exercise. The exercise best suited to the strengthening of these attack- muscles is the one that secures the dilatation and contraction of the vocal chords for every vowel sound (see exercise), and the value of moderate daily practice in this way cannot be overstated. On the other hand, violent or long-sustained use 20 The Elements of Elocution. of the voice during the early years of training might result in some very obstinate form of laryngitis, or " Clergyman's sore throat." Another point is, the position of the vocal chords in the throat, relative to pitch. It is not at all uncommon to hear of singing masters requiring their pupils to keep the vocal chords at one fixed elevation during the production of low, middle, and high tones : this, in the face of nature, seems almost incredible. If you look in the mirror at that prominence in the throat commonly called " Adam's Apple " (properly speaking, the thyroid cartilage, containing the vocal chords), as you sing up and down the scale, you will notice its upward and downward movement corresponds with the rise and fall in the scale. The lid (or epiglottis) follows the same course. Jfature's argument then is, that the nearer the voice-pro- ducing apparatus is to the chest, the longer must be the tunnel-Uke cavity or resonator of the throat above it, and hence the deeper tones ; whilst the nearer this organ is to the top of the throat, the shallower must be the cavity or reson- ator, and so the higher and thinner tones. This is not the whole, but it is an important part of the cause of pitch-variation, considered independently of the speaker's ivill. To the public reader — especially the reader of dramatic literature — a knowledge of this agreement between the posi- tion of the larynx and the pitch of voice is most, helpful in enabling him to assume more quickly and decidedly the various needful " changes of voice," as we say. It should be mentioned that the nasal channels and the mouth form parts of the varied cavity or resonator to which reference has just been made ; and should there be any struc- tural defect of the nose or mouth, the purity of the voice is The Elements of Elocution. 2 1 sure to be affected. A deficient supply of teeth, or an impeded nostril, will often mar the tone and articulation of a speaker. XIV. (3.) The Mouth (Tongue, Teeth, and Lips). A lazy jaw is not less to be condemned than one too active. They are alike unlovely. How frequently are we aggravated by the unintelligible mumblings of people who will not open their mouths ; they keep the lower jaw tightly wedged under the upper jaw, and force their words through the nose and teeth in a manner disagreeable to the sensitive listener, and, at the same time, detrimental to their own vocal organs. If we would articulate audibly and easily, we must open the mouth : that is, move the lower jaw adequately. And again, let us remember that we are not to speak in the throat, but well to the front of the mouth, so that the voice in its free forward-passage may catch some character from the roof of the mouth, and from what may be called the metallic Iceys — the teeth. The teeth give an indispensable sibilant quality to the letter s in certain positions, while the lips make the p's and h's, and secondarily, the m's, impressive. No speaker can hope to faithfully utter the subtleties of poetic expression — where sense and sound-symbols are perfectly wedded — without a nice control over these two auxiliaries ; and it is possible so to master them as to give extraordinary significance to a single word : for example, the words "serpent" and "bond," used as they are in the " Merchant of Venice,'' carry an immense amount of meaning when correctly spoken (see exercises). This consideration of the function of the mouth brings us into the domain of what may be styled the " Technique " of our art. XV. Midway, however, between the " Mechanism " and the " Technique " are two seemingly independent subjects — Enun- 22 The Elements of Elociition. ciation and Pronunciation. These two elements form the bridge between the voice and the principles of voice-use. Enunciation refers to actual word/or)» niton. Correct enun- ciation consists in an ample and an infallibly dear utterance of letters, syllables, and words. Few are gifted with perfect enunciation, owing to the careless habits of speech formed during the period of youth: stiU, faults the most stubborn can, as a rule, be removed by watchfulness and constant con- tact with good models. In addition to the set exercises, the pupil should remember to — 1. Keep the lungs well suppUed. 2. Raise the tongue to the roof of the mouth before begin- ning to speak. 3. Open the mouth well. 4. Speak forward. 5. Form each syllable fully and firmly, and liberate all articulations promptly, but not abruptly. Pronunciation means something different from enunciation, though they are frequently confounded. In elocutionary phraseology pronunciation has to do with exactness of accentu- ation, and purity of the vowel and consonant. Some persons have a naturally good pronunciation, but most are in some degree faulty. Patient, incessant correction will reform even obstinate provincialisms. The vowels o and u are usually the most sinned against, and should be practised with the other exercises here given. 1. NG : singing, running, jumping, shouting — not singin', etc 2. TS : gTiests, acts, tracts, facts, gusts, sects — not tracs, etc. 3. IBIjE : horribte, terrible, possible, edible, indestructible — not horraile, etc 4. ENT : dependent, resplendent, consistent — not consistant, etc. 5. ITY : charity, purity, serenity, liberality— not charaty, etc. The Elements of Elocution. 23 6. U : pvll, lull, full, put, pttss, push — not pass and pat, etc. Would, could, should, pulpit, butcher, cushion, sugar, woman — not palpit, latcher, etc. 7. : originate, stone, vigorous, provision, mctory. 8. R [rough) : rough, right, razor, romp. 9. R (smooth) : eur,fv/r, share, wear, prepare. PART III. XVI. The Manner. — We shall now study very briefly 'some of the more technical elements of elocution. Assuming that all " Art is Nature better understood," we must be compliant, and satisfy ourselves as to the ways of nature in her best types, and establish out of these a standard or iderd Git. Has he, masters ? 1 fear there will a worse come in his place. ^ih Git. Mark'd ye his words ? He would not take the crown ; Therefore, 'tis certain he was not ambitious. \st Git. If it be found so, some will dear abide it. 2nd Git. Poor soul ! his eyes are red as fire with weeping. Srd Git. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. ith Git. Now mark him, he begins again to speak. Ant. But yesterday, the word of Csesar might Have stood against the world : now lies he there. And none so poor to do him reverence. masters ! if I were dispos'd to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men : I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Csesar, I found it in his closet ; 'tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) And they would go and kiss dead Osesar's wounds. And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; ^ 54 The Elements of Elocution. Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue. 4rd Cit. Away then, come, seek the conspirators. Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen ; yet hear me speak. Cit. Peace, ho ! Hear Antony, most noble Antony. Ant. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what : Wherein hath Csesar thus deserved your loves ? Alas ! you know not ; — I must tell you then : — You have forgot the will I told you of. Cit. Most true ; the will : — let's stay and hear the wiU. Ant. Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas, 2nd Cit. Most noble Csesar ! — we'll revenge his death. 3rd Cit. O royal Csesar ! Ant. Hear me with patience. Cit. Peace, ho ! Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours, and new-planted orchards On this side Tiber ; he hath left them you. And to your heirs for ever ; common pleasures, To walk abroad and recreate yourselves. Here was a Csesar : When comes such another ? 1st Cit. Never, never : — Come ; away, away ; We'U burn his body in the holy place, The Elements of Elocution. S7 And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. Take up the body. 2nd Cit. Go, fetch fire. Zrd Git. Pluck down benches. 4hearted, And many pleasures to my vision started ; So I straightway began to pluck a posy Of luxuries bright, milky, soft and rosy. A bush of May-flowers with the bees about them ; Ah, sure no tasteful nook could be without them ! And let a lush laburnum oversweep them, And let long grass grow round the roots, to keep them Moist, cool, and green ; and shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets. A filbert-hedge with wild-briar overtwined. And clumps of woodbine taking the soft wind Upon their summer thrones ; there too should be The frequent chequer of a youngling tree, That with a score of light green brethren shoots From the quaint mossiness of aged roots : Round which is heard a spring-head of clear waters, Babbling so wildly of its lovely daughters, The Elements of Eloctttion. 169 The spreading blue-bells : it may haply mourn That such fair clusters should be rudely torn Prom their fresh beds, and scatter'd thoughtlessly By infant hands, left on the path to die. Open afresh your round of starry folds. Ye ardent marigolds ! Dry up the moisture from your golden lids. For great Apollo bids That in these days your praises should be sung On many harps, which he has lately strung ; And when again your dewiness he kisses, Tell him, I have you in my world of blisses : So haply when I rove in some far vale, His mighty voice may come upon the gale. Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight : With ^vings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things. To bind them all about with tiny rings. Linger awhile upon some bending planks, Then lean against a streamlet's rushy banks. And watch intently Nature's gentle doings : They will be found softer than ringdoves' cooings : How silent comes the water round that bend ! Not the minutest whisper does it send To the o'erhanging sallows : blades of grass Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass. Why, you might read two sonnets, ere they reach To where the hurrying freshnesses aye preach A natural sermon o'er their pebbly beds ; Where swarms of minnows show their little heads, Staying their wavy bodies 'gainst the streams, To taste the luxury of s unn y beams Temper'd with coolness. How they ever wrestle With their own sweet delight, and ever nestle Their silver bellies on the pebbly sand ! If you but scantily hold out the hand. That very instant not one will remain j But turn your eye, and they are there again. lyo The Elements of Elocution. The ripples seem right glad to reach those cresses ; And cool themselves among the emerald tresses ; The while they cool themselves, they freshness give, And moisture, that the bowery green may live : So keeping up an interchange of favours. Like good men in the truth of their behaviours. Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop Prom low-hung branches : little space they stop ; But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek ; Then off at once, as in a wanton freak : Or perhaps, to show their black and golden wings. Pausing upon their yellow flutterings. Were I in such a place, I sure should pray That nought less sweet might call my thoughts away, Than the soft rustle of a maiden's gown Fanning away the dandelion's down ; Than the light music of her nimble toes Patting against the sorrel as she goes. How she would start, and blush, thus to be caught Playing in all her innocence of thought ! O let me lead her gently o'er the brook. Watch her half-smiHng lips and downward look • O let me for one moment touch her wrist ; Let me one moment to her breathing list ; And as she leaves me, may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks auburn (E) REFLECTIVE, Autobiography. Autobiography ! So you say. So do I not believe ! For no men or women that live to-day, Be they as good or as bad as they may, Ever would dare to leave In faintest pencil or boldest ink All they truly and really think. The Elements of Elocution. 171 What they have said and what they have done, What they have lived and what they have felt, Under the stars or under the sun. At the touch of a pen the dewdrops melt. And the jewels are lost in the grass, Though you count the blades as you pass. At the touch of a pen the lightning is fixed, An innocent streak on a broken cloud ; And the thunder that pealed so fierce and loud, With musical echo is softly mixed. Autobiography ? No ! It never was written yet, I trow. Grant that they try ! Still they must fail ! Words are too pale For the fervour and glow of the lava-flow. Can they paint the flash of an eye ? How much less the flash of a heart, Or its delicate ripple and glitter and gleam, Swift and sparkling, suddenly darkling. Crimson and gold tints, exquisite soul-tints, Changing like dawn-flush touching a dream ! Where is the art That shall give the play of blending lights Prom the porphyry rock on the pool below ? Or the bird-shadow traced on the sunlit heights Of golden rose and snow ? You say 'tis a fact that the books exist. Printed and published in Mudie's list. Some in two volumes, and some in one — Autobiographies plenty. But look ! I will tell you what is done By the writers, confidentially ! They cut little pieces out of their lives And join them together. Making them up as a readable book, And call it an autobiography, Though little enough of the life survives. 172 The Elements of Elocution. What if we went in the sweet May weather To a wood that I know which hangs on a hill, And reaches down to a tinkling brook, That sings the flowers to sleep at night. And calls them again with the earliest light. Under the delicate flush of green, Hardly shading the bank below, Pale anemones peep between The mossy stumps where the violets grow ; Wide clouds of bluebells stretch away. And primrose constellations rise, — Turn where we may, Some new loveliness meets our eyes. The first white butterflies flit around. Bees are murmuring close to the ground. The cuckoo's happy shout is heard. Hark again ! Was it echo, or was it bird ? All the air is full of song, A carolling chorus around and above ; From the wood-pigeon's call so soft and long, To merriest twitter and marvellous trill. Everyone sings at his own sweet will. True to the key-note of joyous love. Well, it is lovely ! is it not ? But we must not stay on the fairy spot. So we gather a nosegay with care : A primrose here and a bluebell there. And something that we have never seen. Probably therefore a specimen rare ; Stitchwort, with stem of transparent green. The white-veined woodsorrel, and a spray Of tender -leaved and budding May. We carry home the fragrant load, In a close, warm hand, by a dusty road ; The sun grows hotter every hour ; Already the woodsorrel pines for the shade ; We watch it fade. The Eleme?its of Elocution. 173 And throw away the fair little flower ; We forgot that it could not last an hour Away from the cool moss where it grows. Then the stitchworts droop and close ; There is nothing to show but a tangle of green, For the white-rayed stars will no more be seen. Then the anemones, can they survive ? Even now they are hardly alive. Ha ! where is it, our unknown spray % Dropped on the way ! Perhaps we shall never find one again. At last we come in with the few that are left, Of freshness and fragnance bereft ; A sorry display. Now, do we say, ' Here is the wood where we rambled to-day ? See, we have brought it to you ; Believe us, indeed it is true. This is the wood ! ' do we say ? So much for the bright and pleasant side. There is another. We did not bring All that was hidden under the wing Of the radiant-plumaged Spring. We never tried To spy, or watch, or away to bear, Much that was just as truly there. What have we seen ? Hush, ah, hush ! Curled and withered fern between. And dead leaves under the living green, Thick and damp. A clammy feather. All that remains of a singing thrush Killed by a weasel long ago. In the hungry winter weather. Kettles in unfriendly row. And last year's brambles, sharp and brown, Grimly guarding a hawthorn crown. A pale leaf trying to reach the light By a long weak stem, but smothered down, 174 The Elements of Elocution. Dying in darkness, with none to see. The rotting trunk of a willow tree, Leafless, ready to fall from the bank ; A poisonous fungus, cold and white. And a hemlock growing strong and rank. A tuft of fur and a ruddy stain, Where a wounded hare has escaped the snare. Only perhaps to be caught again. No specimens we bring of these. Lest they should disturb our ease. And spoil the story of the May, And make you think our holiday Was far less pleasant than we say. Ah no ! We write our lives indeed, But in a cipher none can read. Except the author. He may pore The life-accumulating lore For evermore. And find the records strange and true. Bring wisdom old and new. But though he break the seal. No power has he to give the key. No licence to reveal. We wait the all-declaring day. When love shall know as it is known. Till then, the secrets of our lives are ours and God's alone. On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye. Five years have passed ; five summers, with the length of five long winters ; and again I hear these waters, rolling from their mountain-springs with a sweet inland murmur. Once again do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, which, on a wUd secluded scene, impress thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect the landscape with the quiet of the sky. Though absent long, these forms of beauty have not been to me, as is a landscape to a blind man's eye ; but oft, in lonely The Elements of EloaUion. 1 7 5 rooms, and 'mid the din of towns and cities, I have owed to them, in hours of weariness, sensations sweet ; felt in the blood, and felt along the heart, and passing even into my purer mind, with tranquil restoration : — feelings, too, of unremembered pleasure : such, perhaps, as may have had no trivial influence on that best portion of a good man's life — his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, to them I may have owed another gift of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood, in which the burthen of the mystery, in which the heavy and the weary weight of all this unintelligible world, is lightened ; — that serene and blessed mood, in which the affections gently lead us on, untU the breath of this corpo- real frame, and even the motion of our human blood, almost suspended, we are laid asleep in body, and become a living soul ; while, with an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things. If this be but a vain behef — yet, oh ! how oft, in darkness, and amid the many shapes of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir unprofitable, and the fever of the world, have hung upon the beatings of my heart, how oft in spirit have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye ? — thou wanderer through the woods ; how often has my spirit turned to thee ! And now, with gleams of half -extinguished thought, with many recognitions dim and faint, and somewhat of a sad perplexity, the picture of the mind revives again : whUe here I stand, not only with the sense of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts that, in this moment, there is life and food for future years. And so I dare to hope, though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills ; when, like a roe, I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides of the deep rivers and the lonely streams — ^wherever Nature led; more like a man flying from something that he dreads, than one who sought the thing he loved. For N'ature then (the coarser pleasures of my boyish days, and their glad animal movements all gone by) to me was all in aU. I cannot paint what then I was. The sounding cataract haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, the mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, their colours, and their forms, were then to me an appetite ; a feeling and a love, that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, or any interest unborrowed from the eye. That time is past, I "]& The Elements of Elocution. and all its aching joys are now no more, and all its dizzy raptures. Not for this faint I, nor mourn, nor mui-mur ; other gifts have followed ; — for such loss, I would believe, abundant re- compense. For, I have learned to look on Nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes the still sad music of Humanity,- — nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power to chasten and subdue. And I have felt a Presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man ; a motion and a spirit that impels all thinking things, all objects of aU thought, and roUs through all things. Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows, and the woods, and mountains, and of all that we behold from this green earth ; of all the mighty world of eye and ear, both what they half create, and what perceive ; well pleased to recognise, in Nature, and the language of the sense, the anchor of my purest thoughts ; — the nurse, the guide, the guardian of my heart, — and soul of all my moral being. London, September 1802. O Friend ! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest. To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean handiwork of craftsman, cook, Or groom ! — We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest ; The wealthiest man amongst us is the best. No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry ; and these we adore : Plain living and high thinking are no more ; The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone ; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws. The Elements of Elomtion. I'j'j London, 1802. Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour ; England hath need of thee ; she is a fen Of stagnant waters ; altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart ; Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea ; Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free. So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay. (F) MISCELLANEOXTS. The Parting of the Ways. Who hath not been a poet ? Who hath not, With life's new quiver full of wingfed years. Shot at a venture, and then, following on, Stood doubtful at the Parting of the Ways ? There once I stood in dream, and as I paused. Looking this way and that, came forth to me The figure of a woman veiled, that said, " My name is Duty, turn and follow me.'' Something there was that chilled me in her voice ; I felt Youth's hand grow slack and cold in mine, As if to be withdrawn, and I replied : " Oh, leave the hot wild heart within my breast ! Duty comes soon enough, too soon comes Death ; This slippery globe of life whirls of itself. Hasting our youth away into the dark ; These senses, quiveriag with electric heats, M 1 78 The Elements of Elocution. Too soon will show, like nests on wintry boughs Obtrusive emptiness, too palpable wreck. Which whistling north-winds line with downy snow Sometimes, or fringe with foliaged rime, in vain. Thither the singing birds no more return." Then glowed to me a maiden from the left. With bosom half disclosed, and naked arms More white and undulant than necks of swans ; And all before her steps an influence ran Warm as the whispering South that opens buds And swells the laggard sails of Northern May. "I am called Pleasure, come with me !" she said. Then laughed, and shook out sunshine from her hair, Not only that, but, so it seemed, shook out All memory too, and all the moon-lit past, Old loves, old aspirations, and old dreams. More beautiful for being old and gone. So we two went together ; downward sloped The path through yeUow meads, or so I dreamed, Yellow with sunshine and young green, but I Saw naught nor heard, shut up in one close joy ; I only felt the hand within my own. Transmuting all my blood to golden fire. Dissolving all my brain in throbbing mist. Suddenly shrank the hand ; suddenly burst A cry that split the torpor of my brain, And as the first sharp thrust of lightning loosens From the heaped cloud its rain, loosened my sense : " Save me !" it thrilled ; " Oh, hide me ! there is Death ! Death the divider, the unmerciful. That digs his pitfalls under Love and Youth, And covers Beauty up in the cold ground ; Horrible Death ! bringer of endless dark ; Let him not see me ! hide me in thy breast ! " Thereat I strove to clasp her, but my arms Met only what slipped crumbling down, and fell, A handful of gray ashes, at my feet. The Elements of Elocution. ^79 I would have fled, I would have followed back That pleasant path we came, but all was changed ; Rocky the way, abrupt, and hard to find ; Yet I toiled on, and, toiUng on, I thought, "That way lies Youth, and Wisdom, and all Good ; 'For only by unlearning Wisdom comes. And climbing backward to diviner Youth ; What the world teaches profits to the world. What the soul teaches profits to the soul, Which then first stands erect with Godward face. When she lets faU her pack of withered facts, The gleanings of the outward eye and ear. And looks and listens with her finer sense ; Nor Truth nor Knowledge cometh from without.'' After long weary days I stood again And waited at the Parting of the Ways ; Again the figure of a women veiled Stood forth and beckoned, and I followed now : Down to no bower of roses led the path. But through the streets of towns where chattering Cold Hewed wood for fires whose glow was owned and fenced. Where nakedness wove garments of warm wool Not for itself ; — or through the fields it led Where Hunger reaped the unattainable grain, While Idleness enforced saw idle lands. Leagues of unpeopled soil, the common earth, WaUed round with paper against God and Man. "I cannot look," I groaned, "at only these; The heart grows hardened with perpetual wont, And palters with a feigned necessity. Bargaining with itself to be content ; Let me behold thy face." The Form replied : " Men follow Duty, never overtake : Duty nor lifts her veil nor Jpoks behind." But, as she spake, a loosened lock of hair Slipped from beneath her hood, and I, who looked To see it gray and thin, saw amplest gold ; Not that dull metal dug from sordid earth. i8o The Elements of Elocution. But such as the retiring sunset flood Leaves heaped on bays and capes of island cloud. "O Guide divine," I prayed, "Although not yet I may repair the virtue which I feel Grone out at touch of untuned things and foul "With draughts of Beauty, yet declare how soon !" "Faithless and faint of heart," the voice returned, " Thou see'st no beauty save thou make it first ; Man, Woman, Nature, each is but a glass Where the soul sees the image of herself, Visible echoes, offsprings of herself. But, since thou need'st assurance of how soon, Wait till that angel comes who opens all, The reconciler, he who lifts the veil. The reuniter, the rest bringer. Death." I waited, and methought he came ; but how, Or in what shape, I doubted, for no sign. By touch or mark, he gave me as he passed : Only I knew a lily that I held Snapt short below the head and shrivelled up ; Then turned my Guide and looked at me unveiled, And I beheld no face of matron stern, But that enchantment I had followed erst. Only more' fair, more clear to eye and brain, Heightened and chastened by a household charm ; She smiled, and " Which is fairer," said her eyes, " The hag's unreal Florimel or mine % " The Heritage. The rich man's son inherits lands, And piles of brick, and stone, and gold ; And he inherits soft, white hands. And tender flesh that fears the cold. Nor dares to wear a garment old ; A heritage, it seems to me. One scarce would wish to hold in fee. The Elements of Elocution. i8i The rich man's son inherits cares : The bank may break, the factory burn, A breath may burst his bubble shares, And soft white hands could hardly earn A living that ■would serve his turn ; A heritage, it seems to me, One would not wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit ? Stout muscles, and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art ; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit ? Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things, A rank adjudged by toil-won merit. Content that from employment springs, A heart that in his labour sings ; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. What doth the poor man's son inherit ! A patience learned by being poor ; Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it ; A fellow-feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door ; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. O rich man's son ! there is a toil. That with all other level stands ; Large charity doth never soil. But only whiten soft white hands— This is the best crop from thy lands ; A heritage, it seems to me. Worth being rich to hold in fee. O poor man's son ! scorn not thy state ; There is worse weariness than thine, In merely being rich and great : 1 82 The Elements of Elocution. Toil only gives the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign ; A heritage, it seems to me. Worth being poor to hold in fee. Both heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last ; Both children of the same dear God, Prove title to your heirship vast By record of a well-filled past ; A heritage, it seems to me, Well worth a Ufe to hold in fee. The Walrus and the Carpenter. The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might : He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright — And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done— "It's very rude of him," she said, " To come and spoU the fun ! " The sea was wet as wet could be. The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky : No birds were flying over-head — There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand ; They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand : The Elements of Elocution. 183 "If this were only cleared away,'' They said, " It would be grand ! " " If seven maids, with seven mops Swept it for half a year. Do you suppose," the Walrus said, " That they could get it clear ? " " I doubt it," said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. " O Oysters, come and walk with us ! " The Walrus did beseech ; " A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk. Along the briny beach : We cannot do with more than four. To give a hand to each." The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said : The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head — Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. But four young Oysters hurried up. All eager for the treat : Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat — - And this was odd, because, you know. They hadn't any feet. Four other Oysters followed them. And yet another four ; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more — All hopping through the frothy waves. And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so. And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low : 1 84 The Elements of Elocution. And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. " The time has come," the Walrus said, " To talk of many things : Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax- Of cabbages — and kings — And why the sea is boiling hot — And whether pigs have wings." " But wait a bit," the Oysters cried, " Before we have our chat ; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat ! " " No hurry ! " said the Carpenter : They thanked him much for that. " A loaf of bread," the Walrus said, " Is what we chiefly need : Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed — Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear. We can begin to feed." " But not on us," the Oystera cried, Turning a little blue. " After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do ! " " The night is fine," the Walrus said, "Do you admire the view? " It was so kind of you to come ! And you are very nice ! " The Carpenter said nothing but " Cut us another slice : I wish you were not quite so deaf — I've had to ask you twice ! " "It seems a shame," the Walrus said, "To play them such a trick. After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick ! " The Elements of Eloaition. i8c The Carpenter said nothing but " The butter's spread too thick ! " " I weep for you," the "Walrus said, "I deeply sympathize." With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. "0, Oysters," said the Carpenter, "You've had a pleasant run ! Shall we be trotting home again ? " But answer came there none — And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one. Abou Ben Adhem and the Angel. Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace. And saw, within the moonlight in his room. Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom. An angel, writing in a book of gold : — Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ? " — The vision raised its head. And, with a look made of all sweet accord. Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one ? " said Abou. " N^ay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low. But cheerily still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light. And showed the names whom love of God had blessed. And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 1 86 The Elements of Elocution. Tubal Cain. Old Tubal Cain was a man of might in the days when earth was young ; by the fierce red light of his furnace bright the strokes of his hammer rung ; and he lifted high his brawny hand on the iron glowing clear, tUl the sparks rush'd out in scarlet showers, as he fashion'd the sword and the spear. To Tubal Cain came many a one, as he wrought by his roaring fire, and each one pray'd for a strong steel blade as the crown of his desire ; and he made them weapons sharp and strong, till they shouted loud for glee, and gave him gifts of pearls and gold, and spoils of the forest free. But a sudden change came o'er his heart ere the setting of the sun, and Tubal Cain was fiU'd with pain for the evil he had done ; he saw that men, with rage and hate, made war upon their kind, that the land was red with the blood they shed in their lust of carnage, bUnd. And he said — " Alas ! that ever I made, or that skUl of mine should plan, the spear and the sword, for men whose joy is to slay their fellow-man ! " And for many a day old Tubal Cain sat brooding o'er his woe ; and his hand forbore to smite the ore, and his furnace smoulder'd low. But he rose at last with a cheerful face, and a bright courageous eye, and bared his strong right arm for work, while the quick flames mounted high. And he sang — " Hurrah for my handiwork ! " and the red sparks lit the air ; " not alone for the blade was the bright steel made ; " and he fashion'd the first ploughshare. And men, taught wisdom from the Past, in friendship join'd their hands, hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, and plough'd the willing lands, and sang — " Hurrah for Tubal Cain ! our stanch good friend is he ; and for the ploughshare and the plough, to him our praise shall be. But while Oppres- sion lifts its head, or a tyrant would be lord, though we thank him chiefly for the Plough, we'll not forget the Sword ! " Contest between the Nose and the Eyes. Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose, the spec- tacles set them unhappily wrong ; the point in dispute was, as all the world knows, to which the said spectacles ought to The Elements of Elocution. 187 belong. So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause with a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning ; while Chief -baron Ear sat to balance the laws, so famed for his talent in nicely discerning. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, and your lordship," he said, " will undoubtedly find, that the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, which amounts to possession, time out of mind." Then holding the spectacles up to the court — " Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle, as wide as the ridge of the nose is ; in short, de- signed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. Again, would your lordship a moment suppose ('tis a case that has happened, and may be again,) that the visage or countenance had not a Nose, pray, who would, or who could, wear spectacles then ? On the whole, it appears, and my argument shows, with a reasoning the court will never condemn, that the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, and the Nose was as plainly intended for them." Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how, he pleaded again in behalf of the Byes ; but what were his arguments few people know, for the Court did not think they were equally wise. So his lordship decreed, in a grave solemn tone, decisive and clear, without one if or hut, that — " Whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, by daylight or candle-light — Eyes should be shut." The Bachelor's Dream. My pipe is lit, my grog is mix'd, my curtains drawn, and all is snug ; old Puss is in her elbow-chair, and Tray is sitting on the rug. Last night I had a curious dream ! — Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? She look'd so fair, she sang so well, I could but woo, and she was won ! myself ia blue, the bride in white, the ring was placed, the deed was done ! Away we went in chaise and four, as fast as grinning boys could flog — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? What loving tete-a-tetes to come ! But tete-a-tetes must stUl defer ! when Susan came to live with me, her Mother came to 1 88 The Elements of Elocution. live with her ! With Sister Belle she couldn't part, but all -nnj ties had leave to jog — what d'ye think of that, my cat? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? The Mother brought a pretty poll — a monkey, too — what work he made! the Sister introduced a Beau — my Susan brought a favourite Maid. She had a tabby of her own, a snappish mongrel, • christen'd Gog — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? The monkey bit — the parrot scream'd — aU day the Sister strumm'd and sung ; the petted Maid was such a scold ! my Susan learned to use her tongue ! No longer " Deary ! " " Duck ! " and " Love ! " I soon came down to simple " Mogg ! " — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? Her Mother had such wretched health, my comforts one by one must go : the very servants crossed my wish — I found my Susan schooled them so ! The poker hardly seem'd my own, I might as well have been a log — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? My clothes they were the queerest shape ; such coats and hats she never met ! My ways they were the oddest ways ; my friends were such " a vulgar set ! " Poor Tomkinson was snubb'd and huflf'd — she could not bear that Mister Blogg — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog? At times we had a spar, and then Mamma must mingle in the song — the Sister took a sister's part — the Maid declared her master wrong — ^the parrot learn'd to call me " fool ! " my life was like a London fog — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? My Susan's taste was superfine, as proved by bills that had no end — / never had a decent coat—/ never had a coin to spend ! She forced me to resign my club, lay down my pipe, retrench my grog — what d'ye think of that, my cat? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? Now, was not that an awful dream, for one who single is, and snug, — with pussy in the elbow-chair, and Tray reposing on the rug ? If I must totter down the hill, 'tis safest done without a clog — what d'ye think of that, my cat ? what d'ye think of that, my dog ? 77^1? Elements of Eloaition. 189 PROSE. EliO aUENCE. Speech on the Outbreak of Hostilities with China; dehvered in the House of Commons, 1857. W. E. Gladstone. There is not war with ChLna. No, Sir, there is not war with China, but what is there ? There is hostility. There is bloodshed. There is a trampling down of the weak by the strong. There is the terrible and abominable retaliation of the weak upon the strong. You are occupied in this House by revolting and harrowing details about a Chinese baker, who poisoned bread, — by proclamations for the capture of British heads, — and the waylaying of a postal steamer. And these things you think strengthen your case. Why, they deepen your guilt. War taken at the best is a frightful scourge to the human race; but because it is so, the wisdom of ages has surrounded it with strict laws and usages, and has required formalities to be observed, which shall act as a curb upon the wild passions of man, to prevent that scourge from being let loose, unless under circumstances of fuU deliberation and from absolute necessity. You have dispensed with all these precautions. You have turned a consul into a diplomatist, and that meta- morphosed consul is, forsooth, to be at liberty to direct the whole might of England against the head of a .defenceless people. While war is a scourge and a curse to man, it is yet attended with certain compensations. It is attended with acts of heroic self-sacrifice and of unbounded daring. It is ennobled by a consciousness that you are meeting equals in the field, and that while you challenge the issue of life or death, you at least enter into a fair encounter. But you go to China and make war upon those who stand before you as women or children. And what do these people, who are as mere women and children, when you make war upon them ? They resort to those miserable and detestable contrivances I90 The Elements of Elocution. which their weakness teaches them. It is not the first time in the history of the world. Have you never read of those rebellions of the slaves, which have risen to the dignity of being called wars, and which stand recorded in history as the servile wars ? And is it not notorious that among aU the wars upon record these have been the most terrible, ferocious, and destructive ? And why ? Because those who have been trampled upon, adopt in their turn the practices of their op- pressors. An.d that is the character of the war which we are prosecuting in China. Every account that we shall read in the journals or hear recited in this House, will teU of calamity heaped upon calamity, and of cruelty heaped upon cruelty. But I find an appeal has been made to this House which appears to me to be a false and illegitimate appeal. It is an appeal to fear, which is seldom a rightful and noble senti- ment ; and it is to that fear which is the basis of the worst kind of fear — the fear of being thought afraid. The Govern- ment are afraid of the mischievous impression that will be produced upon the Chinese, if the acts of our officials are dis- avowed. Sir, let us consider fairly, impartially, and at large, the moral impressions that must be produced. Let us weigh the evil upon one side and the other, and I have no fear for the result. , Hereafter we shall be told by the noble lord, of the wise caution that we ought to display, of the solemn pre- dicament in which we are placed, of the political mischief which may ensue. Shadowy pictures will be drawn of the dangers, the confusion, the weakness, and paralysis of British power in the East. But what is the foundation of British power in the East — what is the foundation of the promise to be permanent and useful of that British power ! It is not now a question as if the Chinese are alone concerned, for the debate has been prolonged night after night, and your words have gone throughout the whole earth. The confessions and avowals of the supporters of the Government have been, it appears to me, perfectly fatal either to the continuance of that policy, or else to the character and fame of England. You talk of the consequences, and talk of injustice, and then say that we must go on with that injustice. When you speak of the necessity of applying the law of force to the Chinese, and that it is by force that your influence must spread, I am bound to admit, The Elements of Elocution. 191 and I do admit, that you have not power to prevent the language of this debate from being read. The opponents of the resolution of my hon. friend, have not generally ascended to the height of boldness. Few have justified the proceedings that have taken place. Many of those who intend to support the Government have openly condemned the proceedings that have taken place. Members more than I could name have condemned the proceedings. I will ask what the effect will be throughout the world, if it goes forth that in the debates held in the two Houses of Parliament, the majority of speakers condemned the proceedings, and that even among those who sustained the Government with their vote, there was a large number who condemned these proceedings. Why, sir, the opinion will be that England is a power which, while it is higher and more daring in its pretensions to Christianity than any other Power on the face of the globe, yet that in a case where her own interests were concerned, and where she was acting in the remote and distant East, when fairly put to it and asked whether she would do right or wrong, she was ready to adopt, for fear of poKtical inconvenience, the principle — " I wiU make the law of wrong the law of my Eastern policy, and will lay the foundation of that empire which is my proudest boast, in nothing more nor less than gross injustice." Sir, this is not my opinion. I will not believe that England will lay the foundations of its Eastern empire on such miserable ground as this. I believe, on the contrary, that if you have the courage to assert your prerogative as the British House of Commons, you will pursue a course which is more consistent with sound policy as well as the eternal principles of justice. Sir, how stands the case at present? I have just now supposed that the House are going to affirm that resolution which will be the seal of our disgrace. But let me reverse the picture and suppose that the House will adopt the other resolution, and then what will the House do, and what will be the history of this case ? Its history will read weU for England, and for the 19th century. Its history wUl, then, be this : — The sub- ordinate officers of England, in a remote quarter of the globe, misconstrued the intentions of their country ; they acted in violation of the principle of right ; the Executive Government failed to check them. The appeal was next made to the House 192 The Elevienls of Elocution. of Lords, and made as such an appeal ought to be made, for the House was worthy of the eloquence, and the eloquence was worthy of the cause. It was made to nobles and it was made to bishops, and it failed. But it does not rest with sub- ordinate functionai'ies abroad, it does not rest with the Execu- tive Government, it does not rest with the House of Lords, finally, and in the last resort, to say what shall be the policy of Engla,nd, and to what purpose her power shall be directed. Sir, that function lies within these walls. Every member of the House of Commons is proudly conscious that he belongs to an assembly, which in its collective capacity is the para- mount power of the State. But if it is the paramount power of the State, it can never separate from that paramount power a similar and paramount responsibility. The vote of the House of Lords will not acquit us ; the sentence of the Govern- ment will not acquit us. It is with us that it lies to deter- mine, whether this wrong shall remain unchecked and uncor- rected j and in a time when sentiments are so much divided, every man, I trust, will give his vote with the recollection and the consciousness, that it may depend upon his single vote whether the miseries, the crimes, the atrocities that I fear are now proceeding in China, are to be discountenanced or not. We have now come to the crisis of the case. England is not yet committed. But if an adverse division reject the motion of my hon. friend to-morrow morning, England will have been committed. With every one of us it rests to show that this House, which is the first, the most ancient, and the noblest temple of freedom in the world, is also the temple of that everlasting justice, without which freedom itself would be only a name, or only a curse to mankind. And, Sir, I cherish the trust and belief, that when you rise in your place to-night, to declare the numbers of the division from the chair which you adorn, the words which you speak will go forth from the walls of the House of Commons, as a message of mercy and peace, but also as a message of prudence and true wisdom, to the farthest corners of the world. The Elements of Elocution. 193 Speech after the Declaration of War with Russia. Delivered in the House of Commons, March, 1854. John Bright. But I come now to another point. How are the interests of England involved in this question ? This is, after all, the great matter which we, the representatives of the people of England, have to consider. It is not a question of sympathy with any other state. I have sympathy with Turkey ; I have sympathy with the serfs of Russia ; I have sympathy with the people of Hungary, whose envoy the noble lord the mem- ber for Tiverton refused to see, and the overthrow of whose struggle for freedom by the armies of Russia he needlessly justified in this House ; I have sympathy with the Italians, subjects of Austria, ISTaples, and the Pope ; I have sympathy with the three millions of slaves in the United States ; but it is not on a question of sympathy that I dare involve this country, or any country, in a war which must cost an incalcul- able amount of treasure and of blood. It is not our duty to make this country the knight-errant of the human race, and to take upon ourselves the protection of the thousand millions of human beings who have been permitted by the Creator of all things to people this planet. The hon. member for Aylesbury spoke of our triumphant position — the position in which the Government has placed us by pledging this country to support the Turks. I see nothing like a triumph in the fact, that in addition to our many duties to our own country, we have accepted the defence of twenty milUons or more of the people of Turkey, on whose behalf, but, I believe, not for their benefit, we are about to sacrifice the blood and treasure of England. But there are other*^enalties and other considerations. With regard to trade, I can speak with some authority as to the state of things in Lancashire. The Russian trade is not only at an end, but it is made an offence against the law to deal with any of our customers in Russia. The German trade is most injuriously affected by the uncertainty which prevails on the Continent 194 The Elements of Elocution. of Europe. The Levant trade, a very important branch, is almost extinguished in the present state of affairs in Greece, Turkey-in-Europe, and Syria. All property in trade is dim- inishing in value, whilst its burdens are increasing. I do not pretend to ask thehon. member for Aylesbury (Mr. Layard) to put these losses, these great destructions of property, against the satisfaction he feels at the " triumphant position " at which we have arrived. He may content himself with the dream that we are supporting the "integrity and independence" of Turkey, though I doubt whether bringing three foreign armies on her soil, raising insurrections in her provinces, and hopelessly exhausting her finances, is a rational mode of main- taining her as an independent power. But we are sending out 30,000 troops to Turkey, and in that number are not included the men serving on board the fleets. Here are 30,000 Hves ! There is a thrill of horror sometimes when a single life is lost, and we sigh at the loss of a friend, — or of a casual acquaint- ance ! But here we are in danger of losing, and I give the opinions of military men, and not my own merely — 10,000 or it may be 20,000 lives, that may be sacrificed in this struggle. I have never pretended to any sympathy for the military pro- fession, but I have sympathy for my fellow-men and fellow- countrymen, wherever they may be. I have heard very melancholy accounts of the scenes which have been witnessed in the separations from families occasioned by this expedition to the East. But, it will be said, and probably the noble lord the member for Tiverton will say, that it is a just war, a glorious war, and that I am full of morbid sentimentahty, and that I have introduced topics not worthy to be mentioned in Parliament. But these are matters affecting the happiness of the homes of England ; and we, who are the representatives and guardians of those homes, when the grand question of war is before us, should know at least that we have a case — that success is probable — and that an object is attainable commen- surate with the cost of war. I am told indeed that the war is popular, and that it is foolish and eccentric to oppose it. I do not trouble myself whether my conduct in Parliament is popular or not. I care only that it shall be wise and just as regards the permanent interests of my country ; and I despise from the bottom of my The Elements of Elocution. 195 heart the man who speaks a word in favour of this war, or of any war which he believes might have been avoided, merely because the press and a portion of the people urge the Govern- ment to carry it on. I believe if this country, seventy years ago, had adopted the principle of non-intervention in every case where her interests were not directly and obviously assailed, she would have been saved from much of the pauperism and Isrutal crimes by which our government and people have alike been disgraced. This country might have been a garden, every dwelling might have been gf marble, and every person who treads its soil might have been sufficiently educated. We should indeed have had less of military glory. We might have had neither Trafalgar nor Waterloo ; but we should have set a high example of a Christian nation, free in its institutions, courteous and just in its conduct towards all foreign states, and resting its policy on the unchangeable foundation of Christian morality. Knowledge and the Aspiration of Youth. Benjamin Diseaeli. As civilization has gradually progressed, it has equalized the physical qualities of man. Instead of the strong arm, it is the strong head that is now the moving principle of society. You have disenthroned force, and placed on her high seat intelligence ; and the necessary consequence of this great revo- lution is, that it has become the duty and delight equally of every citizen to cultivate his faculties. The prince of all philosophy has told you, in immortal apophthegm, so familiar to you all Ijiat it is now written in your halls and chambers]] " Knowledge is power." If the memorable passage had been pursued by the student who first announced the discovery of that great man to society ; he would have found an oracle not less striking, and in my mind certainly not less true ; for Lord Bacon has not only said that "Knowledge is power," but living one century after the discovery of the printing- press, he has also announced to the world that " Knowledge is pleasure." 196 The Elements of Elocution. Why, when the great body of mankind had become familiar ■with this great discovery — when they learned that a new source was opened to them of influence and enjoyment, is it wonderful that from that hour the heart of nations has palpitated with the desire of becoming acquainted with all that has happened, and with speculating on what may occur ? It has indeed pro- duced upon the popular intellect an influence as great — I might say analogous to — the great change which was produced upon the old commercial world by the discovery of the Americas. A new standard of value was introduced, and, after this, to be distinguished, man must be intellectual. Nor, indeed, am I surprised that this feeling has so powerfully in- fluenced our race ; for the idea that human happiness is de- pendent on the cultivation of the mind, and on the discovery of truth, is, next to the conviction of our immortality, the idea the most full of consolation to man ; for the cultivation of the mind has no limits, and truth is the only thing that is eternal. Indeed, when you consider what a man is who knows only what is passing under his own eyes, and what the con- dition of the same man must be who belongs to an Institution Uke the one which has assembled us together to-night, is it — ought it to be — a matter of surprise that, from that moment to the present, you have had a general feeling throughout the civilized world in favour of a diffusion of knowledge ? A man who knows nothing but the history of the passing hour, who knows nothing of the history of the past,(put that a certain person whose brain was as vacant as his own occupied the same house as himself who in a moment of despondency or of gloom has no hope in the morrow because he has read nothing that has taught him that the morrow has any changes — that man, compared with him who has read the most ordinary abridgement of history, or the most common philosophical speculation, is as distinct and different an animal as if he had fallen from some other planet, was influenced by a different organization, working for a different end, and hoping for a different result. It is knowledge that equalizes the social condition of man — that gives to all, however different their political position, passions which are in common, and enjoy- ments which are universal. Knowledge is like the mystic ladder in the patriarch's dream. Its base rests on the prime- The Elements of Elocution, 197 val earth — its crest is lost in the shadowy splendour or empy- rean ; while the great authors who for traditionary ages have held the chain of science and philosophy, of poesy and erudi- tion, are the angels ascending and descending the sacred scale, and maintaining, as it were, the communication between man and heaven. Speech on Parliamentary Reform, delivered in the House of Commons, 1831. T. B. Macaulay. The question of Parliamentary Reform is still behind. But signs, of which it is impossible to misconceive the import, do most clearly indicate, that unless that question also be speedily settled, property and order, and all the institutions of tliis great monarchy, will be exposed to fearful peril. Is it possible that gentlemen, long versed in high political affairs, cannot read these signs ? Is it possible that they can really believe that the representative system of England, such as it is now, will last tUl the year 1860 ? If not, for what would they have us wait % "Would they have us wait merely that we may show to all the world how little we have profited by our own recent experience ! Would they have us wait that we may once again hit the exact point where we can neither refuse with authority nor concede with grace ? Would they have us wait that the numbers of the discontented party may become larger, its demands higher, its feelings more acrimonious, its organisa- tion more complete ! Would they have us wait tUl the whole tragi-comedy of 1827 has been acted over again, ^till they have been brought into office by a cry of "No Reform ! " to be reformers, as they were once before brought into office by a cry of " No Popery ! " to be emancipators ! Have they oblit- erated from their minds — gladly perhaps would some among them obliterate from their minds — the transactions of that year ? And have they forgotten all the transactions of the succeeding year? Have they forgotton how the spirit of liberty in Ireland, debarred from its natural outlet, found a vent by forbidden passages ? Have they forgotten how we ipS The Elements of Elocution. were forced to indulge them in all the license of rebels, merely because we chose to withhold from them the liberties of sub- jects ? Do they wait for associations more formidable than that of the Corn Exchange — for contributions larger than the rent — for agitators more violent than those who, three years ago, divided with the King and the Parliament the sove- reignty of Ireland. Do they wait for the last and most dreadful paroxysm of popular rage — for that last and most cruel test of military fidelity ? Let them wait, if their past experience shall induce them to think that any high honour or any exquisite pleasure is to be obtained by a policy like this. Let them wait, if this strange and fearful infatuation be indeed upon them, — that they should not see with their eyes, or hear with their ears, or understand with their heart. But let us know our interest and our duty better ; turn where we may, — within, around, — the voice of great events is proclaiming to us reform, that we may preserve. Now, therefore, while everything at home and abroad forebodes ruin to those who persist in a hopeless struggle against the spirit of the age, — now while the crash of the proudest thrones of the continent is still resounding in our ears, — now, while the roof of a British palace affords an ignominious shelter to the exiled heir of forty kings, — now, while we see on every side ancient institutions subverted and great societies dissolved, — now, while the heart of England is still sound, — now, while the old feelings and the old associations retain a power and a charm which may too soon pass away, — now, in this, your accepted time, — now, in this, your day of salvation, take counsel, not of prejudice, not of party spirit, not of the ignominious pride of a fatal consistency, but of history, of reason, of the ages which are past, of the signs of this most portentous time. Pronounce in a manner worthy of the expectation with which this great debate has been anticipated, and of the long remembrance which it will leave behind. Renew the youth of the state. Save property di- vided against itself. Save the multitude, endangered by their own ungovernable passions. Save the aristocracy, endangered by its own unpopular power. Save the greatest, the finest, and most highly civilized community that ever existed, from calamities which may in a few days sweep away all the rich The Elements of Elomtion. 199 heritage of so many ages of wisdom and glory. The danger is terrible. The time is short. If this bill should be rejected, I pray to God that none of those who concur in rejecting it may ever remember their votes with unavailing regret, amidst the wreck of laws, the confusion of ranks, the spoliation of property, and the dissolution of social order. NARRATIVE. The Three Cherry-Stones. When I was a schoolboy, more than fifty years ago, I re- membered to have read a story, which may have been a fiction, but which was very naturally told, and made a deep impression upon me then. I will endeavour to draw it forth from the looker of my memory, and relate it as nearly as I can recollect. Three young gentlemen, who had finished the most sub- stantial part of their repast, were lingering over their fruit and wine at a tavern in London, when a man of middle age and middle stature entered the public room where they were sitting, seated himself at one end of a small unoccupied table, and calling the waiter, ordered a simple mutton chop and a glass of ale. His appearance, at first view, was not likely to arrest the attention of any one. His hair was beginning to be thin and grey ; the expression of his countenance was sedate, with a slight touch, perhaps, of melancholy; and he wore a grey surtout with a standing collar, which manifestly had seen service, if the wearer had not — just such a thing as an officer would bestow upon his serving-man. He might be taken, plausibly enough, for a country magistrate, or an attorney of limited practice, or a schoolmaster. He continued to masticate his chop and sip his ale in silence, without lifting his eyes from the table, until a cherry-stone, sportively snapped from the thumb and finger of one of the gentlemen at the opposite table, struck him upon his right "ear. His eye was instantly upon the aggressor, and his ready intelli- gence gathered from the ill-suppressed merriment of the party that this petty impertinence was intentional. 200 The EletHents of Elocution. The stranger stooped and picked up the cherry-stone, and a scarcely perceptible smile passed over his features as he care- fully wrapped it up in a piece of paper, and placed it in his pocket. This singular procedure, with their preconceived im- pressions of their customer, somewhat elevated as the young gentlemen were by the wine they had partaken of, capsized their gravity entirely, and a burst of irresistible laughter pro- ceeded from the group. Unmoved by this rudeness, the stranger continued to finish his frugal repast in quiet, until another cherry-stone, from the same hand, struck him upon the right elbow. This also, to the infinite amusement of the other party, he picked from the floor and carefully deposited with the first. Amidst shouts of laughter, a third cherry-stone was soon after discharged, which hit him upon the left breast. This also he very deliberately took from the floor, and deposited with the other two. As he rose, and was engaged in paying for his repast, the gaiety of these sporting gentlemen became slightly subdued. It was not easy to account for this. Lavater would not have been able to detect the slightest evidence of irritation or re- sentment upon the features of the stranger. He seemed a little taller, to be sure, and the carriage of his head might have appeared to them rather more erect. He walked to the table at which they were sitting, and with that air of dignified calmness which is a thousand times more terrible than wrath, drew a card from his pocket, and presented it with perfect civility to the offender, who could do no less than ofier his own in return. While the stranger unclosed his surtout, to take the card from his pocket, they had a glance at the undress coat of a military man. The card disclosed his rank, and a brief enquiry at the bar was sufiicient for the rest. He was a captain whom ill-health and long service had entitled to half-pay. In earlier life he had been engaged in several affairs of honour, and, in the dialect of the fancy, was a dead shot. The next morning a note arrived at the aggressor's residence, containing a challenge in form, and one of the cherry-stones. The truth then flashed before the challenged party — it was the challenger's intention to make three bites at this cherry three separate afiairs out of this unwarrantable frolic ! The Elements of Elocution. 201 The challenge was accepted, and the challenged party, in deference to the challenger's reputed skill with the pistol, had half decided upon the small sword ; but his friends, who were on the alert, soon discovered that the captain, who had risen by his merit, had, in the earlier days of his necessity, gained his bread as an accomplished instructor in the use of that weapon. They met, and fired alternately, by lot — the young man had selected this mode, thinking he might win the first fire — he did — ^fired, and missed his opponent. The captain levelled his pistol and fired — the baU passed through the flap of the right ear, and grazed the bone ; and, as the wounded man involun- tarily put his hand to the place, he remembered that it was on the right ear of his antagonist that the cherry-stone had fallen. Here ended the first lesson. A month had passed. His friends cherished the hope that he would hear notlung more from the captain, when another note — a challenge, of course — and another of those ominous cherry-stones arrived, with the cap- tain's apology, on the score of iU-health, for not sending it before. A^ain they met — fired simultaneously, and the captain, who was unhurt, shattered the right elbow of his antagonist — the very point on which he had been struck by the cherry-stone ; and here ended the second lesson. There was something aw- fully impressive in the modus operandi and exquisite skill of his antagonist. The third cherry-stone was still in his posses- sion, and the aggressor had not forgotten that it had struck the 'unojffending gentleman upon the left breast. A month had passed — another— and another, of terrible suspense ; but nothing was heard from the captain. Intelligence had been received that he was confined to his lodging by illness. At lenf^th, the gentleman who had been his second m the former duels' once more presented himself, and tendered another note which, as the recipient perceived on taking it, contained the last of the cherry-stones. The note was superscribed m the captain's weU-known hand, but it was the writing evi- dently of one who wrote feebly. There was an unusual solem- nity also in the manner of him who deHvered it The seal was broken, and there was the cherry-stone in a blank enve- lope. 202 The Elements of Eloaiiion. ' And what, sir, am I to understand by this ? " inquired the ressor. 'Youi is dead." aggressor. " You will understand, sir, that my friend forgives you — he An Attic Philosopher in Paris. LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER. I had reached one of the remote streets, in which those who would live ia comfort and without ostentation, and who love serious reflection, delight to find a home. There were no shops along the dimly Ht pavement ; one heard no sounds but of the distant carriages, and of the steps of some of the inhabitants returning quietly home. I instantly recognised the street, though I had only been there once before. That was two years ago. I was walking at the time by the side of the Seine, to which the lights on the quays and bridges gave the aspect of a lake surrounded by a garland of stars ; and I had reached the Louvre, when I was stopped by a crowd collected near the parapet : they had gathered round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the cause of his tears. " It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuilleries," said a mason, who was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand ; " the servant who took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to wait for him while he went to get a drink ; but I suppose the drink made him more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find his way home." " Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives % " " They have been doing it for the last hour ; but all he can say is, that he is called Charles, and that his father is M. Duval — there are twelve hundred Duvals in Paris." " Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives ? " " I should think not, indeed ! Don't you see that he is a gentleman's child ? He has never gone out except in a carriage, or with a servant ; he does not know what to do by himself." Tlie Elevients of Elocution. 203 Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the others. " We cannot leave him in the street," said some. '• The child-stealers would carry him ott," continued others. " We must take him to the overseer." " Or to the police-office." " That's the thing — come, little one ! " But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the names of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back towards the parapet. In vain they tried to per- suade him ; his fears made him resist the more, and the most e:iger began to get weary, when the voice of a little boy was heard through the confusion. '' I know him well — I do," said he, looking at the lost child ; " he belongs to our part of the town." " What part is it ? " " Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards : Rue des jifagasius." . " And you have seen him before ? " " Yes, yes ! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where there is an iron gate with gilt points." ^ The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying. The little boy answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details as left no room for doubt. The other child understood him, for he went up to him as if to put himself under his protection. " Then you can take him to his parents 1 " asked the mason, who had listened with real interest to the little boy's account. " I don't care if I do," replied he ; "it's the way I'm going." " Then you will take charge of him ? " " He has only to come with me." And, taking up the basket he had put down on the pave- ment, he set off towards the postern gate of the Louvre. The lost child followed him. " I hope he will take hmi right," said I, when I saw them so away. , ,. ,, • ., ^ "Never fear,' rephed the mason; "the httle one m the blouse is the same age as the other ; but, as the saynig is, ' he knows black from white;' poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress ! " 204 The Elements of Elocution. The crowd dispersed; for my part, I went towards the Louvre : the thought came into my head to follow the two children, so as to guard against any mistake. I was not long in overtaking them ; they were walking side by side, talking, and already quite familiar with one another. The contrast in their dress then struck me. Little Duval wore one of those fanciful children's dresses which are expensive as well as in good taste ; his coat was skUfuUy fitted to his figure, his trousers came down in plaits from the waist to his boots of polished leather with mother-of-pearl buttons, and his ringlets were half hid by a velvet cap. The appearance of his guide, on the contrary, was that of the class who dwell on the extreme borders of poverty, but who there maintain their ground with no surrender. His old blouse, patched with pieces of different shades, indicated the perseverance of an industrious mother struggling against the wear and tear of time ; his trousers were become too short, and showed his stockings darned over and over again ; and it was evident that his shoes were not made for him. The countenances of the two children were not less different than their dresses. That of the first was delicate and refined ; his clear blue eye, his fair skin, and his smiling mouth, gave him a charming look of innocence and happiness : the features of the other, on the contrary, had something rough in them ; his eye was quick and lively, his complexion dark, his smile less merry than shrewd ; all showed a mind sharpened by too early experience : he boldy walked through the middle of the streets thronged by carriages, and followed their countless turnings without hesitation. I found, on asking him, that every day he carried dinner to his father, who was then working on the left bank of the Seine ; and this responsible duty had made him careful and prudent. He had learned those hard but forcible lessons of necessity which nothing can equal, or supply the place of. Unfortu- nately the wants of his poor family had kept him from school, and he seemed to feel the loss ; for he often stopped before the print-shops, and asked his companion to read him the names of the engravings. In this way we reached the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, which the little wanderer seemed to know again : notwithstanding his fatigue, he hurried on ; he was agitated by The Elements of Elocution. 205 mixed feelings ; at the sight of his house he uttered a cry, and ran towards the iron gate with the gilt points ; a lady who was standing at the entrance received him in her arms, and from the exclamations of joy, and the sound of kisses, I soon per- ceived she was his mother. Not seeing either the servant or child return, she had sent in search of them in every direction, and was waiting for them in intense anxiety. I explained to her in a few words what had happened ; she thanked me warmly, and looked round for the Kttle boy who had recognised and brought back her son, but while we were talking, he had disappeared. It was for the first time since then, that I had come into this part of Paris. Did the mother continue grateful ? Had the children met again, and had the happy chance of their first meeting lowered between them that barrier which may mark the difi'erent ranks of men, but should not divide them ? While putting these questions to myself, I slackened my pace, and fixed my eyes on the great gate which I just perceived. All at once I saw it open, and two children appeared at the entrance. Although much grown, I recognised them at first sight ; they were the chUd who was found near the parapet of the Louvre, and his young guide. But the dress of the latter was greatly changed : his blouse of grey cloth was neat, and even spruce, and was fastened round the waist by a polished leather belt ; he wore strong shoes, but made to his feet, and had on a new cloth cap. Just at the moment I saw him, he held in his two hands an enormous bunch of lilacs, to which his companion was trying to add narcissuses and primroses ; the two children laughed, and parted with a friendly good-bye. M. Duval's son did not go in till he had seen the other turn the corner of the street. Then I accosted the latter, and reminded him of our former meeting ; he looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to recollect me. " Forgive me if I do not make you a bow," said he merrily ; " but I want both my hands for the nosegay Mr. Charles has given me." " You are, then, become great friends ? " said I. " Oh ! I should think so," said the child : " and now my father is rich, too ! " 2o6 The Elements of Elocution. " How's that ? " ■ " M. Duval lent liiTn a little money ; he has taken a shop, where he works on his own account : and, as for me, I go to school." " Yes," repHed I, remarking for the first time the cross which decorated his Kttle coat ; " and I see that you are head-boy ! " " Mr. Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in the class." " Are you now going to your lessons ? " " Yes, and he has given me some lilacs ; for he has a garden where we play together, and where my mother can always have flowers." " Then it is the same as if it were partly your own.'' " So it is ! Ah ! they are good neighbours, indeed ! But here I am ; good-bye, sir." He nodded to me with a smile, and disappeared. I went on with my walk, stiU pensive, but with a feeling of relief. If I had elsewhere witnessed the painful contrast be- tween affluence and want, here I had found the true union of riches and poverty. Hearty good-will had smothered down the more rugged inequalities on both sides, and had opened a road of true neighbourhood and fellowship between the humble workshop and the stately mansion. Instead of hearkening to the voice of interest, they had both listened to that of self- sacrifice, and there was no place left for contempt or envy. Thus, instead of the beggar in rags, that I had seen at the other door cursing the rich man, I had found here the happy child of the labourer loaded with flowers, and blessing him ! The problem, so difficult and so dangerous to examine into with no regard but for the rights of it, I had just seen solved by love. DESCRIPTIVE. Oopperfield's Houskeeping. I doubt whether two young birds could have known less about keeping house, than I and my pretty Dora did. We had a servant, of course. She kept house for us. The Elements of Elocution. 207 Her name was Paragon. Her nature was represented to us, when we engaged her, as being feebly expressed in her name, bhe had a written character, as large as a proclamation ; and according to this document, could do everything of a domestic nature that ever I heard of, and a great many things that I never did hear of. She was a woman in the prime of life ; of a severe countenance; and subject (particularly in the arms) to a sort of perpetual measles or fiery rash. She had a cousin in the Life Guards, with such long legs that he looked Hke the afternoon shadow of somebody else. His shell-jacket was as much too little for him as he was too big for the premises. He made the cottage smaller than it need have been, by being so very much out of proportion to it. Besides which, the walls were not thick, and whenever he passed the evening at our house, we always knew of it by hearing one continued growl in the kitchen. Our treasure was warranted sober and honest. I am there- fore willing to believe that she was in a fit when we found her under the boiler ; and that the deficient teaspoons were attributable to the dustman. But she preyed upon our minds dreadfully. We felt our inexperience, and were unable to help ourselves. We should have been at her mercy, if she had any; but she was a remorseless woman, and had none. The. next domestic trial we went through, was the Ordeal of Servants. Mary Anne's cousin deserted into our coal-hole, and was brought out, to our great amazement, by a piquet of his companions in arms, who took him away handcuifed in a procession that covered our front-garden with ignominy. This nerved me to get rid of Mary Anne, who went so mildly, on receipt of wages, that I was surprised, until I found out about the teaspoons, and also about the little sums she had borrowed in my name of the tradespeople without authority. After an interval of Mrs. Kidgerbury — the oldest inhabitant of Kentish Town, I believe, who went out charing, but was too feeble to execute her conceptions of that art — we found another treasure, who was one of the most amiable of women, but who generally made a point of falling either up or down the kitchen 2o8 The Elements of Elocution. stairs with the tray, and almost plunged into the parlour, as into a bath, with the tea-things. The ravages committed by this unfortunate, rendering her dismissal necessary, she was succeeded (with intervals of Mrs. Kidgerbury) by a long line of Incapables; terminating in a young person of genteel appearance, who went to Greenwich Fair in Dora's bonnet. After whom I remember nothing but an average equality of failure. Everybody we had anything to do with seemed to cheat us. Our appearance in a shop was a signal for the damaged goods to be brought out immediately. If we bought a lobster, it was full of water. All our meat turned out to be tough, and there was hardly any crust to our loaves. In search of the principle on which joints ought to be roasted, to be roasted enough, and not too much, I myself referred to the Cookery Book, and found it there established as the allowance of a quarter of an hour to every pound, and say a quarter over. But the principle always failed us by some curious fatality, and we never could hit any medium between redness and cinders. ***** One of our first feats in the housekeeping way was a little dinner to Traddles. I met him in town, and asked him to walk out with me that afternoon. He readily consenting, I wrote to Dora, saying I would bring him home. It was pleasant weather, and on the road we made my domestic happiness the theme of conversation. Traddles was very full of it ; and said that, picturing himself with such a home, and Sophy waiting and preparing for him, he could think of nothing wanting to complete his bliss. I could not have wished for a prettier little wife at the opposite end of the table, but I certainly could have wished, when we sate down, for a little more room. I did not know how it was, but though there were only two of us, we were at once always cramped for room, and yet had always room enough to lose everything in. I suspect it may have been because nothing had a place of its own, except Jip's pagoda, which invariably blocked up the main thoroughfare. On the present occasion, Traddles was so hemmed in by the pagoda and the guitar-case, and Dora's flower-painting, and my writing-table, that I had serious doubts of the possibility of his The Elements of Elomtion. 209 using his knife and fork ; but he protested, with his own good- humour, " Oceans of room, Copperfield ! I assure you. Oceans!" There was another thing I could have wished, namely, that Jip had never been encouraged to walk about the table-cloth during dinner. I began to think there was something dis- orderly in his being there at all, even if he had not been in the habit of putting his foot in the salt or the melted-butter. On this occasion he seemed to think he was introduced expressly to keep Traddles at bay ; and he barked at my old friend, and made short runs at his plate, with such undaunted pertinacity, that he may be said to have engrossed the conversation. However, as I knew how tender-hearted my dear Dora wa?!, and how sensitive she would be to any slight upon her favourite, I hinted no objection. For similar reasons I made no allusion to the skirmishing plates upon the floor ; or to the disreputable appearance of the castors, which were all at sixes and sevens, and looked drunk ; or to the further blockade of Traddles by wandering vegetable dishes and jugs. I could not help won- dering in my own mind, as I contemplated the boiled leg of mutton before me, previous to carving it, how it came to pass that our joints of meat were of such extraordinary shapes — and whether our butcher contracted for all the deformed sheep that came into the world ; but I kept my reflections to myself. "My love," said I to Dora, "what have you got in that dish?" I could not imagine why Dora had been making tempting little faces at me, as if she wanted to kiss me. " Oysters, dear," said Dora, timidly. " Was that your thought ? " said I, delighted. " Ye-yes, Doady," said Dora. " There never was a happier one ! " I exclaimed, laying down the carving-knife and fork. " There is nothing Traddles likes so much ! " "Ye-yes, Doady," said Dora, " and so I bought a beautiful little barrel of them, and the man said they were very good. But I— I am afraid there 's something the matter with them. They don't seem right." Here Dora shook her head, and diamonds twinkled in her eyes. "They are only opened in both shells," said T. " lake the top one off, my love." o 2IO The Elements of Eloattion. "But it won't come off," said Dora, trying very hard, and looking very much distressed. " Do you know, Copperfield," said Traddles, cheerfully ex- amining the dish, "I think it is in consequence — they are capital oysters, but I think it is in consequence — of their never having been opened." They never had been opened ; and we had no oyster-knives and couldn't have used them if we had ; so we looked at the oysters and ate the mutton. At least we ate as much of it as was done, and made up with capers. If I had permitted him, I am satisfied that Traddles would have made a perfect savage of himself, and eaten a plateful of raw meat, to express enjoy- ment of the repast ; but I would hear of no such immolation on the altar of friendship ; and we had a course of bacon instead ; there happening, by good fortune, to be cold bacon in the larder. My poor little wife was in such aflBiction when she thought I should be annoyed, and in such a state of joy when she found I was not, that the discomfiture I had subdued very soon vanished, and we passed a happy evening ; Dora sitting with her arm on my chair while Traddles and I discussed a glass of wine, and taking every opportunity of whispering in my ear that it was so good of me not to be a cruel, cross old boy. By and bye she made tea for us ; which it was so pretty to see her do, as if she was busying herself with a set of doll's tea-things, that I was not particular about the quality of the beverage. Then Traddles and I played a game or two at cribbage ; and Dora singing to the guitar the whUe, it seemed to me as if our courtship and marriage were a tender dream of mine, and the night when I first listened to her voice were not yet over. A City by Night. It is a true sublimity to dwell here. These fringes of lamp- hght, struggling up through smoke and thousandfold exhala- tion, some fathoms into the ancient reign of Night, what thinks Bootes of them, as he leads his Huntiag-Dogs over the Zenith in their leash of sidereal fire ? That stifled hum of Midnight, when Traffic has lain down to rest ; and the chariot- wheels of The Elements of Elocution. 2 1 1 Vanity, still roUiag here and there through distant streets, are bearing her to Halls roofed-in, and lighted to the due pitch for her ; and only Vice and Misery, to prowl or to moan like nightbirds, are abroad : that hum, I say, like the stertorous, unquiet slumber of sick life, is heard in Heaven ! Oh, under that hideous coverlet of vapours, and putrefactions, and un- imaginable gases, what a Fermenting-vat lies simmering and hid ! The joyful and the sorrowful are there ; men are dying there, men are being born ; men are praying, — on the other side of a brick partition, men are cursing ; and around them all is the vast, void Night. The proud Grandee still lingers in his perfumed saloons, or reposes within damask curtains ; Wretchedness cowers under truckle-beds, or shivers hunger- stricken into its lair of straw : in obscure cellars, Rouge-el Noir languidly emits its voice-of-destiny to haggard hungry VUlains ; while councillors of State sit plotting, and playing their high chess-game, whereof the pawns are Men. The Lover whispers his mistress that the coach is ready ; and she, full of hope and fear, glides down, to fly with him over the borders : the Thief, still more silently, sets-to his picklocks and crowbars, or lurks in wait tUl the watchmen first snore in their boxes. Gay mansions, with supper-rooms and dancing- rooms, are full of light and music and high-swelling hearts ; but, in the Condemned Cells, the pulse of life beats tremulous and faint, and bloodshot eyes look out through the darkness, which is around and within, for the light of a stern last morn- ino-. Six men are to be hanged on the morrow : comes no hammering from the Eabenstein? — their gallows must even now be o' building. Upwards of five-hundred-thousand two- legged animals without feathers Ke round us, in horizontal positions; their heads all in nightcaps, and full of the fool- ishest dreams. Riot cries aloud, and staggers and swaggers in his, rank dens of shame; and the Mother, with streaming hair, kneels over her pallid dying infant, whose cracked lips only her tears now moisten. — AR these heaped and huddled together, with nothing but a little carpentry and masonry between them ; — crammed in, like salted fish in their barrel ; — or weltering, shall I say, like an Egyptian pitcher of tamed vipers, each struggling to get its head above the others : such work goes on under that smoke counterpane !— But I sit above it all ; I am alone with the Stars. 212 The Elements of Eloaition. Ooverley Hall. Having often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverley to pass away a month with him in. the country, I last week accompanied him thither, and am settled with him for some time at his country house, where I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humour, lets me rise and go to bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my chamber as I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of the country come to see him, he only shows me at a distance : as I have been walking in his fields I have observed them stealing a sight of me over an hedge, and have heard the Knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at. I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, because it consists of sober and staid persons ; for, as the Knight is the best master in the world, he seldom changes his servants ; and as he is beloved by all about him, his servants never care for leaving him ; by this means his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their master. You would take his valet de chambre for his brother, his butler is gray-headed, his groom is one of the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coachman has the looks of a privy counsellor. You see the goodness of the master even in the old house-dog, and in a gray pad that is kept in the stable with great care and tenderness, out of regard to his past services, though he has been useless for several years. I could not but observe with a great deal of pleasure, the joy that appeared in the countenances of these ancient domestics upon my friend's arrival at his country seat. Some of them could not refrain from tears at the sight of their old master ; every one of them pressed forward to do something for him, and seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At the same time the good old Knight, with the mixture of the father and the master of the family, tempei-ed the inquiries after his own afiairs with several kind questions relatincr to themselves. This humanity and good-nature engages every body to him, so that when he is pleasant upon any of them The Elements of Elocution. 213 all his family aie in good humour, and none so much as the person whom he diverts himself with : on the contrary, if he coughs, or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of all his servants. My worthy friend has put me under the particular care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully desirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard their master talk of me as of his particular friend. My chief companion, when Sir Roger is diverting himself in the woods or the fields, is a very venerable man who is ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his house in the nature of a chaplain above thirty years. This gentleman is a person of good sense and some learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversation : he heartily loves Sir Roger, and knows that he is very much ia the old Knight's esteem, so that he Uves in the family rather as a relation than a dependent. I have observed in several of my papers that my friend Sir Roger, amidst all his good qualities, is something of an humourist ; and that his virtues as well as imperfections, are, as it were, tinged by a certaia extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and distinguishes them from those of other men. This cast of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it renders his conversation highly agreeable, and more delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue would appear in their common and ordinary colours. As I was walking with him last night, he asked me how I liked the good man whom I have just now mentioned, and without staying for my answer told me that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and Greek at his own table, for which reason he desired a particular friend of his at the University, to find him out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learnino-, of a good aspect, a clear voice, and sociable temper, and if possible, a man that understood a httle of back-gammon. My 'friend, says Sir Roger, found me out this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does not show it : I have given hun the parsonage of the parish; and, because I know his value, have settled upon him a good annuity for hfe. If he outhves 214 "^^^ Elements of Elocution. me, he shall find that he was higher in my esteem than perhaps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty years, and, though he does not know I have taken notice of it, has never in all that time asked anything of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting me for something in behalf of one or other of my tenants his parishioners. There has not been a lawsuit in the parish since he has lived among them : if any dispute arises they apply themselves to him for the decision ; if they do not acquiesce in his judgment (which I think never happened above once or twice at most) they appeal to me. At his first settling with me I made him a present of all the good sermons which have been printed in English, and only begged of him that every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in the pulpit. Accordingly he has digested them into such a series, that they follow one another naturally, and make a continued system of practical divinity. As Sir Roger was going on in his story, the gentleman we were talking of came up to us ; and upon the Knight's asking him who preached to-morrow (for it was Saturday night) told us the Bishop of St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in the afternoon. He then showed us his list of preachers for the whole year, where I saw with a great deal of pleasure Archbishop Tillotson, Bishop Saunderson, Dr. Barrow, Dr. Calamy, with several living authors who have published dis- courses of practical divinity. I no sooner saw this venerable man in the pulpit, but I very much approved of my friend's insisting upon the qualifications of a good aspect and a clear voice ; for I was so charmed with the gracefulness of his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time more to my satisfaction. A sermon repeated after this manner is like the composition of a poet in the mouth of a graceful actor. I could heartily wish that more of our country clergy would follow this example ; and, instead of wasting their spirits in laborious compositions of their own, would endeavour after a handsome elocution, and all those other talents that are proper to enforce what has been penned by greater masters. This would not only be more easy to themselves, but more edifyin" to the people. The Elements of Elocution. 215 The Coverley Sabbath. ^^T-fZ^'^^- ^^77^1} Ple^^ed with a country Sunday, and thuik, if keeping holy the seventh day were only a " human " institution, it would be the best method that could have been thought of for the pohshing and civilizing of mankind It is certain the country people would soon degenerate into a kind ot savages and barbarians, were there not such frequent re- turns ot a stated time, in which the whole village meet too-ether with their best faces, and in their cleanliest habits, to converse with one another upon indifferent subjects, hear their duties explained to them, and join together in adoration of the Supreme Being. Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 'Change, the whole parish politics being generally discussed in that place, either after sermon or before the bell rings. My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside of his church with several texts of his own choosing ; he has likewise given a handsome pulpit cloth, and railed in the communion table at his own expense. He has often told me that, at his coming to his estate, he found his parishioners very irregular ; and that, in order to make them kneel and join in the responses, he gave every 6ne of them a hassock and a Common Prayer Book : and at the same time employed an itinerant singing master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the Psalms ; upon which they now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I have ever heard. As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself ; for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and, if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself, or sends his servant to them. Several other of the old Knight's particularities break out 2i6 The Elements of Elomtton. upon these occasions ; sometimes lie will be lengthening out .1 verse in the siuging Psalms half a minute after the rest of the concreo-ation have done with it ; sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces " Amen " three or four times to the same prayer ; and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to count the congre- gation, or see if any of his tenants are missing. I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews, it seems, is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This authority of the Knight (though exerted in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life), has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behaviour ; besides that the general good sense and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these Httle singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good qualities. As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir tiU Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The Knight walks down from his seat in the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to him on each side, and every now and then inquires how such an one's wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church, — which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. The chaplain has often told me, that upon a catechising day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given him next day for his encouragement, and sometimes accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place ; and that he may encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church service, has promised, upon the death of the present incum- bent, who is very old, to bestow it according to merit. The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more re- markable, because the very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that rise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state of war. The parson The Elements of Elocution. 217 is always preaching at the squire, and the squire, to be revenged on the parson, never comes to church. The squire has made dl his tenants atheists and tithe-stealers ; while the parson instructs them every Sunday in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to them in almost every sermon that he is a better man than his patron. In short, matters are come to such an extremity, that the squire has not said his prayers either in public or private this half year ; and that the parson threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray for him in the face of the whole congregation. Peuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very fatal to the ordinary people ; who are so used to be dazzled with riches, that they pay as much deference to the understanding of a man on an estate as of a man of learning ; and are very hardly brought to regard any truth, how im- portant soever it may be, that is preached to them, when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not believe it. Skating Experiences. " Now,'' said Wardle, " what say you to an hour on the ice ? We shall have plenty of time." " Capital ! " said Mr. Benjamin Allen. " Prime ! " ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. "You skate, of course. Winkle?" said Wardle. "Ye-yes; oh, yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I — I — am. rather out of practice." " Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. " I like to see it so much." " Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady. A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth ex- pressed her opinion that it was "swan-Uke." "I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening ; "but I have no skates." This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a couple of pairs, and the fat boy announced that there were half-a- dozen more down stairs ; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed ex- quisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncomfortable. 2i8 The Elements of Eloaition. Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice ; Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dexterity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies ; which reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic evolutions, which they called a reel. All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his skates on, with the points behind, and getting the straps into a very complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr. Waller, the unfortunate skates weie firmly screwed and buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet. " Now, then, sir," said Sam, in an encouraging tone ; " off with you, and show 'm how to do it." " Stop, Sam, stop ! " said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp of a drowning man. " How slippery it is, Sam ! " "Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Hold up, sir ! " This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore referonce to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his feet in the air, and dash the back of his head on the ice. " These — these — are very awkward skates ; ain't they, Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering. " I'm afeerd there's a orkard gen'l'm'n in 'em, sir," replied Sam. "Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious that there was anything the matter. "Come; the ladies are all anxiety." "Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. " I'm coming." "Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavouring to dis- engage himself. " Now, sir, start off ! " " Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging most The Elements of Elocution. 219 affectionately to Mr. Weller. « I find I've got a couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You may have them, Sam " "Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winlde, hastily. "You needn't take your hand away to do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it you this afternoon, Sam." " You're very good, sir," replied Mr. Weller. " Just hold me at first, Sam ; will you ? " said Mr. Winkle. " There — that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam ; not too fast." Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite bank : " Sam ! " "Sir?" " Here. I want you." "Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear Mr. Pickwick calling? Let go, sir." With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of the agonised Pickwickian, and, in so doing, ad- ministered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the centre of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind, in skates. He was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile ; but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance. Mr. Pickwick beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, " Take his skates off." "No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle. " Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick, firmly. The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle allowed Sam to obey it in silence. 220 The Elements of Elocution. " Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise. Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders; and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words : — "You're an imposter, sir." " A what ? " said Mr. Winkle, starting. " I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An imposter, sir." With those words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his heel, and rejoiaed his fiiends. "Shdiag looks a nice warm exercise, doesn't it?" he in- quired of Wardle, when that gentleman was thoroughly out of breath, by reason of the indefatigable manner in which he had converted his legs into a pair of compasses, and drawn complicated problems on the ice. "Ah, it does, indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?" "I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a boy," replied Mr. Pickwick. "Try it now," said Wardle. " Oh do, please, Mr. Pickwick ! " cried all the ladies. " I should be very happy to afford you any amusement," replied Mr. Pickwick, " but I haven't done such a thing these thirty years." " Pooh ! pooh ! Nonsense ! " said Wardle, dragging off his skates with the impetuosity which characterised aU his pro- ceedings. " Here ; I'll keep you company ; come along ! " And away went the good tempered old fellow down the slide, with a rapidity which came very close upon Mr. Weller, and beat the fat boy all to nothing. Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves, and put them in his hat ; took two or three short runs, baulked himseK as often, and at last took another run, and went slowly and gravely down the sHde, with his feet about a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts of all the spectators. The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest, the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp smart crack was heard. There was a quick rush towards the bank, a wild scream from the ladies, and a shout from Mr. Tupman. A The Elements of Elocution. 221 large mass of ice disappeared ; the water bubbled up over it ; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkercliief were floating on the surface ; and this was all of Mr. Pickwick that anybody could see. Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance, the males turned pale, and the female's fainted. Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by the hand, and gazed at the spot where their leader had gone down, with frenzied eagerness ; while Mr. Tupman, by way of rendering the promptest assistance, and at the same time conveying to any persons who might be within hearing the clearest possible notion of the catastrophe, ran off across the country at his utmost speed, screaming " Fire ! " with all his might. It was at this moment that a face, head, and shoulders emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed the features and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick. " Keep yourself up for an instant — ^for only one instant ! " bawled Mr. Snodgrass. "Yes, do; let me implore you — for my sake!" roared Mr. Winkle, deeply affected. The abjuration was rather unnecessary ; the probability being, that if Mr. Pickwick had declined to keep himself up for anybody else's sake, it would have occurred to him that he might as well do so for his own. " Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow ? " said Wardle. "Yes, certainly," rephed Mr. Pickwick, wringing the water from his head and face, and gasping for breath. " I fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first." The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet visible bore testimony to the accuracy of this statement ; and as the fears of the spectators were still further reheved by the fat boy's suddenly recoUecting that the water was nowhere more than five feet deep, prodigies of valour were performed to get him out. After a vast quantity of splashmg, and cracking, and strugghng, Mr. Pickwick was at length fairly extricated from his unpleasant position, and once more stood on dry land. . 1 t-. -i " Oh he'll catch his death of cold," said Emily. "Dear old thing!" said Arabella. "Let me wrap this shawl round you, Mr. Pickwick." . , w ji << ^ « Ah, that's the best thing you can do," said Wardle; "and 222 The Elements of Elocution. when you've got it on, run home as fast as your legs can carry you, and jump into bed directly." A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three or four of the thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and started off, under the guidance of Mr. Weller; presenting the singular phenomenon of an elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and without a hat, with his arms bound down to his sides, skimming over the ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the rate of six good English miles an hour, pausing not an instant until lie was snug in bed. The Death of Little Dombey. Paul had never risen from his little bed. He lay there, listening to the noises in the street, quite tranquilly ; not carin" much how the time went, but watching it, and watching every- thing about him, with observing eyes. When the sunbeams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, and quivered on the opposite wall like golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, and that the sky was red and beautiful. As the reflection died away, and a gloom went creeping up the wall, he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen into night. Then he thought how the long streets were dotted with lamps, and how the peaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great city ; and now he thought how black It was, and how deep it would look, reflecting the hosts of stars— and more than all, how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea. His only trouble was, the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try to stop it— to stem it with his childish hands— or choke its way with sand ; and when he saw it coming on resistless, he cried out ! But a word from his sister Ploi^ ence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself- and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Ploy of his' dream, and smiled. The people round him changed unaccountably— except Plor ence ; Plorence never changed— and what had been the doctors was now his father, sitting with his head upon his hand And The Elements of Elocution. 223 Paul was quite content to shut his eyes again, and see what happened next without emotion. But this figure, with its head upon its hand, returned so often, and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder lan- guidly if it were real ; and, in the night-time, saw it sitting there, with fear. "Floy," he said, "what is that!" "Where, dearest?" " There ! at the bottom of the bed." " There's nothing there, except papa ! " The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and coming to the bedside, said — " My own boy, don't you know me ? " Paul looked it in the face, and thought, Was this his father ? But the face, so altered to his thinking, thrilled while he gazed, as if it were in pain ; and, before he could reach out both his hands to take it between them, and draw it towards him, the figure turned away quickly irom the little bed, and went out at the door. How many times the golden water danced upon the wall ; how many nights the dark, dark river rolled towards the sea in spite of him ; Paul never sought to know. If their kindness, or his sense of it, could have increased, they were more kind, and he more grateful every day ; but whether they were many days, or few, appeared of little moment now to the gentle boy. One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing-room downstairs. The train of thought sug- gested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother ; for he could not remember whether they had told him yes or no — the river running very fast, and confusing his mind. " Ploy, did I ever see mamma?" "No, darling; why?" "Did I never see any kind face, Hke a mamma's, looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?" he asked, incredulously, as if he had some vision of a face before him. " Oh yes, dear ! " " Whose, Floy?" "Your old nurse's ; often." "And where is my old nurse ? " said Paul. " Is she dead too ? Floy, are we all dead, except you ? " There was a hurry in the room, for an instant — longer, perhaps ; but it seemed no more — then all was still again ; and Florence, with her face quite colourless, but smiling, held his head upon her arm. Her arm trembled very much. " Show 224 The Elements of Elocution. me that old nurse, Floy, if you please ! " " She is not here, darling. She shall come to-morro-n^." — " Thank you, Floy ! " Little Dombey closed his eyes, and fell asleep. But he soon awoke — woke mind and body, and sat upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There was no grey mist before them, as there had been sometimes in the night. He knew them every one, and called them by their names. " And who is this ? Is this my old nurse ? " said the child, regarding with a radiant smile a figure coining in. Yes, yes ! No other stranger would have shed those tears at sight of him, and called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity. "Floy, this is a kind good face," said Paul. " I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse ! Stay here ! " "Now lay me down," he said; "and, Floy, come close to me, and let me see you ! " Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked together. " How fast the river runs, between its green banks and the rushes, Floy ! But it's very near the sea. I hear the waves ! They always said so." Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. How green the banks were now, how bright the flowers growing on them, and how tall the rushes ! Now the boat was out at sea, but gliding smoothly on ; and now there was a shore before them. Who stood on the bank ? He put his hands together, as he had been used to do at his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it ; but they saw him fold them so behind her neck. " Mamma is like you, Floy ; I know her by the face ! But tell them that the print upon the stairs is not divine enough. The light about the head is shining on me as I go ! " The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. . . . The old, old fashion ! The fashion that came in with our first parents, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion— The Elements of Elocution. 225 Death ! Oh, thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, of Immortality ! And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean ! A Shipwreck at Yarmouth. 1. There was a dark gloom in my solitary chamber, when I at length returned to it ; but I was tired now, and, getting into bed again, fell — oft" a tower and down a precipice — into the depths of sleep. I have an impression that for a long time, though I dreamed of being elsewhere and in a variety of scenes, it was always blowing in my dream. At length, I lost that feeble hold upon reality, and was engaged with two dear friends, but who they were I don't know, at the siege of some town in a roar of cannonading. 2. The thunder of the cannon was so loud and incessant that I could not hear something I much desired to hear, until I made a great exertion and awoke. It was broad day — eight or nine o'clock ; the storm raging, in lieu of the batteries, and someone knocking and calling at my door. " What is the matter 1 " 1 cried. " A wreck ! close by ! " I sprang out of bed, and asked, " What wreck ? " " A schooner, from Spain or Portugal, laden with fruit and wine. Make haste, sir, if you want to see her ! It's thought, down on the beach, she'll go to pieces every moment." The excited voice went clamouring along the staircase, and I wrapped myself in my clothes as quickly as I could, and ran into the street. 3. Numbers of people were there before me, all running in one direction to the beach. I ran the same way, outstripping a good many, and soon came facing the wild sea. The wind might by this time have lulled a little, though not more sensibly than if the cannonading I had dreamed of had been diminished by the sUencing of half-a-dozen, guns out of hundrieds. But the sea having upon it the additional agitation of the whole night, was infinitely more terrific than when I had seen it last. Every appearance it had then presented bore p 226 The Elements of Elocution. the expression of being swelled; and the height to which the breakers rose, and, looking over one another, bore one another down, and rolled in in interminable hosts, was most appalling. 4r. In the difficulty of hearing anything but wind and waves, and in the crowd, and the unspeakable confusion, and my first breathless efforts to stand against the weather, I was so con- fused that I looked out to sea for the wreck, and saw nothing but the foaming heads of the great waves. A half-dressed boatman, standing next to me, pointed with his bare arm (a tattooed arrow on it, pointing in the same direction) to the left. Then, O great Heaven, I saw it close in upon us ! 5. One mast was broken short off, six or eight feet from the deck, and lay over the side, entangled in a maze of sail and rigging ; and all that ruin, as the ship rolled and beat — which she did without a moment's pause, and with a violence quite inconceivable — beat the side as if it would stave it in. Some efforts were even then being made to cut this portion of the wreck away ; for as the ship, which was broadside on, turned towards us in her rolUng, I plainly descried her people at work with axes, especially one active figure with long curling hair, conspicuous among the rest. But a great cry, which was audible even above the wind and water, rose from the shore at this moment ; the sea, sweeping over the rolling wreck, made a clean breach, and carried men, spars, casks, planks, bulwarks, heaps of such toys, into the boiling surge. 6. The second mast was. yet standing, with the rags of a rent sail and a wild confusion of broken cordage flapping to and fro. The ship had struck once, the same boatman hoarsely said in my ear, and then lifted in and struck again. I under- stood him to add that she was parting amidships ; and I could readily suppose so, for the rolling and beating were too tremendous for any human work to suffer long. As he spoke, there was another great cry of pity from the beach ; four men arose with the wreck out of the deep, clinging to the rigging of the remaining mast ; uppermost, the active figure with the curling hair, 7. There was a bell on board ; and as the ship rolled and dashed, like a desperate creature driven mad, now showing us the whole sweep of her deck, as she turned on her beam-ends The Elements of Eloattton. 227 towards the shore, now nothing but her keel as she sprung wildly over and turned towards the sea, the bell rang, and its sound, the knell of those unhappy men, was borne towards us on the wind. Again we lost her, and again she rose. Two men were gone. The agony on shore increased. Men groaned and clasped their hands ; women shrieked and turned away their faces. Some ran wildly up and down along the beach, crying for help where no help could be. I found myself one of these, frantically imploring a knot of sailors whom I knew, not to let those two lost creatures perish before our eyes. 8. They were making out to me in an agitated way — I don't know how, for the little I could hear I was scarcely composed enough to understand — that the life-boat had been bravely manned an hour ago, and could do nothing ; and that as no man would be so desperate as to attempt to wade off with a rope, and establish a communication with the shore, there was nothing left to try ; when I noticed that some new sensation moved the people on the beach, and saw them part, and Ham come breaking through them to the front. 9. I ran to him — as well as I know, to repeat my appeal for help. But, distracted though I was, by a sight so new to me and terrible, the determination in his face and his look out to sea — exactly the same look as I remembered in connection with the morning after Emily's flight — awoke me to a know- ledge of his danger. I held him back with both arms, and implored the men with whom I had been speaking not to listen to him, not to do murder, not to let him stir from off that sand. 10. Another cry arose on shore ; and looking to the wreck, we saw the cruel sail, with blow on blow, beat off the lower of the two men, and fly up in triumph round the active figure left alone upon the mast. Against such a sight, and against such determmation as that of the calmly-desperate man who was already accustomed to lead half the people present, I might as hopefully have entreated the wind. " Mas'r Davy," he said, cheerily grasping me by both hands, "if my time is come, 'tis come. If't amt, I'll bide it. Lord above bless you and bless all ! Mates, make me ready. I'm a-going off." 11. I was swept away, but not unkindly, to some distance, 228 The Elements of Elocution. ■where the people around me made me stay ; urging, as I con- fusedly perceived, that he was bent on going, with help or without, and that I should endanger the precautions for his safety by troubling those with whom they rested. I don't know what I answered or what they rejoined; but I saw hurry on the beach, and men running with ropes from a cap- stan that was there, and penetrating into a circle of figures that hid him from me. Then I saw him standing alone, in a seaman's frock and trowsers ; a rope in his hand or slung to his wrist ; another round his body; and several of the best men holding, at a little distance, to the latter, which he laid out himself, slack upon the shore, at his feet. 12. The wreck, even to my unpractised eye, was breaking up. I saw that she was parting in the middle, and that the life of the solitary man upon the mast hung by a thread. Still he clung to it. He had a singular red cap on — not unlike a sailor's cap, but of a finer colour ; and as the few yielding planks between him and destruction rolled and bulged, and his anticipative death-knell rung, he was seen by all of us to wave it. I saw him do it now, and thought I was going dis- tracted, when his action brought an old remembrance to my mind of a once dear friend. 13. Ham watched the sea, standing alone, with the silence of suspended breath behind him, and the storm before, until there was a great retiring wave, when, with backward glance at those who held the rope which was made fast round his body, he dashed in after it, and in a moment was bufieting with the water — rising with the hills, falling with the valleys, lost beneath the foam, then drawn again to land. They hauled in hastily. He was hurt. I saw blood on his face, from where I stood ; but he took no thought of that. He seemed hurriedly to give them some directions for leaving him more free — or so I judged from the motion of his arm — and was gone as before. 14. And now he made for the wreck, rising with the hills, falling with the valleys, lost beneath the rugged foam, borne in toward the shore, borne on toward the ship, striving hard and valiantly. The distance was nothing, but the power of the sea and wind made the strife deadly. At length he neared the wreck. He was so near, that with one more of his vigor- TJie Elements of Elocution. 220 ous strokes he would be clinging to it, when, a high, green, vast hill-side of water, moving on shoreward, from beyond the ship, he seemed to leap up into it with a mighty bound, and the ship was gone ! 15. Some eddying fragments I saw in the sea, as if a mere cask had been broken, in running to the spot where they were hauling in. Consternation was in every face. They drew him to my very feet — insensible — dead ! He was carried to the nearest house ; and, no one preventing me now, I remained near him, busy, while every means of restoration were tried. But he had been beaten to death by the great wave, and his generous heart was stilled for ever. 16. As I sat beside the bed, when hope was abandoned and all was done, a fisherman, who had known me when Emily and I were children and ever since, whispered my name at the door. " Sir," said he, with tears starting to his weather-beaten face, which, with his trembling lips, was ashy pale, " will you come over yonder ? " The old remembrance that had been recalled to me was in his look. I asked him, terror-stricken, leaning on the arm he held out to support me, — " Has a body come ashore % " He said, "Yes." " Do I know it?" I asked then. He answered nothing. 17. But he led me to the shore. And on that part of it where she and I had looked for shells, two children — on that part of it where some lighter fragments of the old boat, blown down last night, had been scattered by the wind, among the ruins of the home he had wronged — I saw him lying with his head upon his arm, as I had often seen him lie at school : Steerforth. A Rainy Sunday in an Inn. From " Bracebridge Hall," Washington Irving's English novel. 1. It was a rainy Sunday in the gloomy month of Novem- ber. I had been detained in the course of a journey by a slight ijidisposition, from which I was recovering ; but I was 230 The Elements of Elocution. still feverisli, and was obliged to keep within doors all day, in an inn of the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in a coimtry inn ! whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation. The rain pattered against the casements, the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound. 2. I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye, but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of my bed-room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full view of the stable- yard. I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable-yard on a rainy day. 3. The place was littered with wet straw, that had been kicked about by travellers and stable-boys. In one corner was a stagnant pool of water surrounding an island of muck ; there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under a cart, among which was a miserable crest-fallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirit, his drooping tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back ; near the cart was a half-dozing cow chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking hide ; a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves ; an un- happy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by, uttered something every now and then between a bark and a yelp ; a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in pattens, looking as sulky as the weather itself. Every- thing, in short, was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hard-drinking ducks, assembled, like boon-companions, round a puddle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor. 4. I sauntered to the window, and stood gazing at the people picking their way to church, with petticoats hoisted mid-leg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bells ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I then amused myself with watching the daughters of a tradesman opposite, who, being confined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday finery, played off their charms at the front windows, to fascinate the chance ten- ants of the inn. They at length were summoned away by a The Elements of Elocution. 231 vigilant vinegar-faced mother, and I had nothing further from without to amuse me. 5. The day continued lowering and gloomy : the slovenly, ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along : there was no variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, monoton- ous patter, patter, patter, excepting that now and then I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from the rattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. It was quite refreshing — if I may be allowed a hackneyed phrase of the day — when in the course of the morning a horn blew, and a stage-coach whirled through the street, with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and reeking with the steam of wet box-coats and upper ben- jamins. 6. The sound brought out from their lurking-places a crew of vagabond boys and vagabond dogs, and the carroty-headed hostler and that nondescript animal yclept Boots, and all the other vagabond race that infest the purlieus of an inn. But the bustle was transient : the coach again whirled on its way ; and boy and dog, and hostler and Boots, all slunk back again to their holes ; the street again became silent, and the rain continued to rain on. 7. The evening gradually wore away. The travellers read the papers two or three times over. Some drew round the fire and told long stories about their horses, about their adventures, their overturns, and breakings-down. They discussed the credits of different merchants and different inns, and the two wags told several choice anecdotes. All this passed as they were quietly taking what they called their nightcaps — that is to say, strong glasses of brandy and water and sugar, or some other mixture of the kind ; after which they one after another rang for Boots and the chamber-maid, and walked off to bed in old shoes cut down into marvellously uncomfortable slippers. 8. There was only one man left— a short-legged, long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with a very large, sandy head. He sat by himself with a glass of port-wine negus and a spoon, sipping and stirring, and meditating and sipping, until nothing was left but the spoon. He gradually fell asleep bolt upright in his chair, with the empty glass standing before him ; and the candle seemed to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long and black, and 232 The Elements of Elocution. cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little light that remained in the chamber. The gloom that now prevailed was contagious. Around hung the shapeless and almost spectral box-coats of departed travellers, long since buried in deep sleep. I only heard the ticking of the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings of the sleeping toper, and the drippings of the rain- — drop, drop, drop — from the eaves of the house. The Sky. 1. It is a strange thing how little, in general, people know about the sky. It is the part of creation in which Nature has done more for the sake of pleasing man, more for the sole and evident purpose of talking to him and teaching him, than in any other of her works ; and it is just the part in which we least attend to her. 2. There are not many of her other works in which some more material or essential pui-pose than the mere pleasing of man is not answered by every part of their organization ; but every essential purpose of the sky might, so far as we know, be answered if, once in three days or thereabouts, a great, ugly, black rain-cloud were brought up over the blue, and everything well watered, and so all left blue again till next time, with perhaps a film of morning and evening mist for dew. And, instead of this, there is not a moment of any day of our lives when Nature is not producing, scene after scene, picture after picture, glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and con- stant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite certain that it is all done for us, and intended for our perpetual pleas- ure. And every man, wherever placed, however far from other sources of interest or of beauty, has this doing for him constantly. 3. The noblest scenes of the earth can be seen and known but by a few ; it is not intended that man should live always in the midst of them ; he injures them by his presence ; he ceases to feel them if he be always with them. But the sky is for all; bright as it is, it is not "too bright nor good for human nature's daily food ; " it is fitted, in all its functions, for the perpetual comfort and exalting of the heart ; for the soothing it, and purifying it from its dross and The Elements of Elocution. 233 dust. Sometimes gentle, sometime capricious, sometimes awful ; never the same for two moments together ; almost human in its passions, almost spiritual in its tenderness, al- most Divine in its infinity, its appeal to what is immortal in us is as distinct as its ministry of chastisement or of blessing to what is mortal is essential. 4. And yet we never attend to it ; we never make it a sub- ject of thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations ; we look upon all by wliich it speaks to us more clearly than to brutes, upon all which bears witness to the intention of the Supreme, that we are to receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew which we share with the weed and the worm, only as a succession of meaningless and monotonous accidents, too common and too vain to be worthy of a moment of watchfulness or a glance of admiration. 5. If, in our moments of utter idleness and insipidity, we turn to the sky as a last resource, which of its phenomena do we speak of ? One says it has been wet, and another it has been windy, and another it has been warm. Who, among the whole chattering crowd, can tell me of the forms and precipices of the chain of tall white mountains that gilded the horizon at noon yesterday ? "Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came out of the south, and smote upon their summits, until they melted and mouldered away in a dust of blue rain % Who saw the dance of the dead clouds, when the sunlight left them last night, and the west wind blew them before it, like withered leaves % 6. All has passed unregretted or unseen ; or, if the apathy be ever shaken off, even for an instant, it is only by what is gross or what is extraordinary ; and yet it is not in the broad and fierce manifestations of the elemental energies, not in the clash of the hail, nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the highest characters of the sublime are developed. God is not , in the earthquake nor in the fire, but in the still small voice. They are but the blunt and the low faculties of our nature, which can only be addressed through lampblack and lightning. 7. It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive majesty, the deep, and the calm, and the perpetual; that which must be sought ere it is seen, and loved ere it is understood ; things which the angels work out for us daUy, and yet vary 234 The Elements of Elocution. eternally, which are never wanting, and never repeated ; which are to be found always, yet each found but once; — it is through these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught, and the blessing of beauty given. An M.P.'s Private Secretary. " I brought this card from the General Agency Office, sir," said Nicholas, "wishing to ofier myself as your Secretary." "That's all you have come for, is it?" said Mr. Gregsbury. "You have no connection with any of those rascally news- papers, have you ? You didn't get into the room to hear what was going forward, and put it in print, eh ? " " I have no connection, I am sorry to say, with anything at present," rejoined Nicholas, — politely enough, but quite at his ease. " Oh ! " said Mr. Gregsbury. " Sit down. — You want to be my Secretary, do you ? " " I wish to be employed in that capacity, sir." " Well, now, what can you do ? " " I suppose," replied Nicholas, smUing, " that I can do what falls usually to the lot of other secretaries." "What's that?" " A secretary's duties are rather difficult to define, perhaps. They include, I presume, correspondence ? " " Good," interposed Mr. Gregsbury. " The arrangement of papers and documents. Occasionally, perhaps, the writing from your dictation ; and possibly, sir," said Nicholas with a half-smile, " the copying of yotir speech for some public journal, when you have made one of more than usual importance." " Certainly, certainly ! What else ? " " Really, I am not able, at this instant, to recapitulate any other duty of a Secretary, beyond the general one of making himself as agreeable and useful to his employer as he can, con- sistently with his own respectability ; without overstepping that line of duties which he undertakes to perform, and which the designation of his office is usually understood to imply." " This is all very well, Mr. What is your name ? " The Elements of Elocution. 235 " Nickleby." " This is all very well, Mr. Mckleby ; and very proper so far as it goes — so far as it goes, — but it doesn't go far enough. There are other duties, Mr. Nickleby, which a Secretary to a Parliamentary Gentleman must never lose sight of. I should require to be crammed, sir." " May I beg your pardon, if I inquire what you mean, sir ? " " My meaning, sir, is perfectly plain. My Secretary would have to make himself master of the Foreign Policy of the world as it is mirrored in the newspapers ; to run his eye over all accounts of public meetings — all leading articles — and accounts of the proceedings of public bodies ; and to make notes of any- thing which it appeared to him might be made a poiat of, in any little speech upon the question of some petition lying on the table, or anything of that kind. Do you understand ? " " I think I do, sir." " Then, it would be necessary for him to make himself acquainted, from day to day, with newspaper paragraphs on passing events ; such as, ' Mysterious Disappearance and Sup- posed Suicide of a Potboy, '-^or anything of that sort, upon which I might found a question to the Secretary of State for the Home Department. Then, he would have to copy the question, and as much as I remembered of the answer (includ- ing a little compliment about independence and good sense) ; and to send the manuscript to the local paper, with perhaps half-a-dozen lines of leader, to the effect that I was always to be found in my place in Parliament, and never shrunk from the responsible and arduous duties, and so forth. You see ? " — Nicholas bowed. — " Besides which, I should expect him, now " and then, to go through a few figures in the Printed Tables, and to pick out a few results, so that I might come out pretty well on Timber-duty questions, and Finance questions, and so on ; and I should like him to get up a few little arguments about the disastrous effects of a Keturn to Cash Payments and a Metallic Currency, with a touch now and then about the Exportation of Bullion, and the Emperor of Kussia,^ — and bank notes, — and all that kind of thing ; which it's only necessary to talk fluently about, because nobody understands it. Do you take me ? " " I think I understand." 236 The Elements of Elocution. " "With regard to such questions as are not political, and which one can't be expected to care about, beyond the natural care of not allowing inferior people to be as v,'ell off as ourselves — else where are our privileges ? — I should wish my Secretary to get together a few little flourishing speeches of a patriotic cast. For instance, if any preposterous Bill were brought forward for giving poor grubbing authors a right to their own property, I should like to say that I, for one, would never consent to opposing an insurmountable bar to the diffusion of literature among tlie 'people, — you understand ? — that the crea- tions of the pocket, being man's, might belong to one man, or one family ; but that the creations of the brain, being God's, ought, as a matter of course, to belong to the people at large — and, if I was pleasantly disposed, I should like to make a joke about posterity, and say that those who wrote for posterity should be content to be rewarded by the approbation of pos- terity ; it might take with the House, and could never do me any harm, because posterity can't be expected to know any- thing about me, or my jokes either — do you see % " " I see that, sir," replied Nicholas. " You must always bear in mind, in such cases as this, where our interests are not affected, to put it very strong about the People, because it comes out very well at election-time ; and you could be as funny as you liked about the Authors ; because I believe the greater part of them live in lodgings, and are not voters. This is a hasty outline of the chief things you'd have to do, — except waiting in the Lobby every night, in case I forgot anything, and should want fresh cramming ; and, now and then, during great debates, sitting in the front row of the gallery, and saying to the people about — ' You see that gentle- man, with his hand to his face, and his arm twisted round the pillar — that's Mr. Gregsbury — the celebrated Mr. Gregsbury,' — with any other little eulogium that might strike you at the moment. And for salary, I don't mind saying at once in round numbers, to prevent any dissatisfaction — though it's more than I've been accustomed to give — fifteen shillings a week, and find yourself. There ! " With this handsome offer, Mr. Gregsbury once more threw himself back in his chair, and looked like a man who had been most profligately liberal, but is determined not to repent of it notwithstanding. The Elements of Elocution. 237 " Fifteen shillings a week is not much," said Nicholas mildly. " Not much ! Fifteen shillings a week not much, young man ! Fifteen shillings a " " Pray do not suppose that I quarrel with the sum, sir, for I am not ashamed to confess that, whatever it may be in itself, to me it is a great deal. But the duties and responsibilities make the recompense small, and they are so very heavy that I fear to undertake them." " Do you decline to undertake them, sir % " inquired Mr. Gregsbury, with his hand on the bell-rope. " I fear they are too great for my powers, however good my wUl may be, sir." " That is as much as to say that you had rather not accept the place, and that you consider fifteen shillings a week too little. Do you decUne it, sir ? " " I have no alternative but to do so." " Door, Matthews ! " said Mr. Gregsbury, as his servant appeared. " I am sorry I have troubled you unnecessarily, sir." " I am sorry you have," rejoined Mr. Gregsbury, turning his back. " Door, Matthews ! " " Good morning, sir." " Door, Matthews ! " The boy beckoned Nicholas, and, tumbling lazily downstairs before him, opened the door, and ushered him into the street. INDEX TO AUTHORS. Addison, Joseph. The Coveiley Hall, 212 „ „ Sabbath, 215 Anonymous. The Bishop and the Caterpillar, 144 Human Nature, 154 The Three Cherry-stones, 199 Bright, John. On War, 193 Buchanan, Robert. An Old Dominie's Story, 127 Burns, Robert. Honest Poverty, 123 To a Mouse, 122 Btron, Lord. The Field of Waterloo, 155 Carroll, Lewis. The Wahus and the Carpenter, 182 Carlyle, Thomas. A City by Night, 210 Coleridge, S. T. Hymn to Sunrise, 124 Collins, William. The Passions, 25 CowPER, William. Contest between Nose and Eyes, 186 DioKENS, Charles. The Children, 114 An M.P.'s Secretary, 234 The Death of Paul Dombey, 222 Skating Experiences, 2 1 7 Copperfield's Housekeeping, 206 A Shipwreck at Yarmouth, 225 Disraeli, B. Knowledge and the Aspirations of Youth, 195 Goldsmith, 0. She Stoops to Conquer (Scene from), loi Gladstone, W. B. Hostilities with China, 189 Hartb, Bret. Guild's Signal, 153 Haverqal, Frances. Autobiography, 170 Holmes, 0. W. The Opening of the Piano, 162 Hood, T. The Bridge of Sighs, 113 A Parental Ode, 28 A Bachelor's Dream, 187 Queen Mab, 163 Hunt, Leigh. Abou Ben Adheni, 185 Irving, Washington. A Rainy Sunday, 229 Index to Authors. 239 Keats, A Landscape Sketch, 167 TOBIN, J. The Honeymoon (Scene), 93 Landor, W. S. Essex and Spenser, 109 Longfellow, H. W. The Arsenal at Springfield, 117 The Day is Done, 1 18 The Ropewalk, 160 The Legend Beautiful, 157 Hiawatha (Chapter IX.), 133 The Norman Baron, 17 The ChUdren's Hour, 116 Lowell, J. B, The Singing Leaves, 130 The Parting of the Ways, 177 The Heritage, 180 Maoaulay, Lord. ParMamentary Reform, 197 Maokay, Charles. The Dream of the Reveller, 164 Tubal Cain, 186 Maokay, Eric. Beethoven at the Piano, 120 The Waking of the Lark, 13 PoB, B. A. The Bells, 150 Annabel Lee, 126 RoQERS, Samuel. Ginevra, 9 RtrsKiN, John. The Sky, 232 Sheridan, R. B. The School for Scandal (Scene from), 97 The Rivals (Scene from), 105 Shakspere, Wm. As You Like It (Scene from), 75 Hamlet „ 78, 79 Henry IV. „ 65 Henry VIIL „ 68 Julius Caesar ,, 47, 50, 57 King John „ 85 Macbeth „ 61 Merchant of Venice „ 10, 38 Othello „ 34 Richard IIL „ 82 Soliloquies, &o. — Gloster's Soliloquy, 90 Queen Mab, 89 Henry V. at Agincourt, 92 SouTHBY, Robert. The Well of St. Keyne, 166 SorrvESTRE, E. The Attic Philosopher (Selection from), 202 Whittiee, J. G. Barbara Pritchie, 141 Maud MiiUer, 142 Wordsworth, Wm. On Revisiting the Wye, 174 London, September, 1802, 176 London (Milton Sonnet), 177 Lines Written in Early Spring, 16 GEORGE PHILIP AND SON, PRINTERS, LONDON AND LIVERPOOL. A SELECTED LIST OF George Philip & Son's Publications. PHILIPS' IMPERIAL ATLAS OF THE WORLD. A Series of Eighty Maps, illustrating every aspect of geographical science. Each Map, with the exception of the Physical and Orographical Maps, accompanied by a Complete Index, in which the latitude and longitude of every place on it is given. Imperial Folio, half-bound russia or morocco, gilt edges, price ;^8 ; or fiill-bound russia or morocco, price Ten Guineas. • . ■ This Great Work, the production of which has occupied several years, is a Complete Atlas for all Purposes, and embodies an amount of information unequalled by any other Atlas, English or Foreign. 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