M4 t li^ Glass. Book. A SYSTEM ELOCUTION, WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO GESTURE TO THE TREATMENT OF S& STAMMERING, DEFECTIVE ARTICULATION COMPRISING- NUMEROUS DIAGRAMS, AND ENGRAVED FIG U RES, ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE SUBJECT. BY ANDREW COMSTOCK, M.D. PRINCIPAL OE THE VOCAL AND POLYGLOTT GYMNASIUM. Can Elocution be taught 1 This question has heretofore been asked through ignorance : it shall hereafter be asked, only through folly.— Rush's Philosophy of the Human Voice. EIGHTH EDITION, ENLARGED. — PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY E. H. BUTLER & CO. 1846. IT Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by ANDREW COM STOCK, M. D., in the office of the clerk of the district court of the United States in and for the eastern district of Pennsylvania. 3 J STEREOTYPED BY J. FAGAN PRINTED BY C SHERMAN. \C0®?1 THIS work is a system of Theoretical and Practical Elocution. It is de- signed for the use of Schools and Colleges, SK as well as for the instruction of private ^individuals who desire to improve them- selves in the art of reading and speaking. The arrangement of the several parts of the work is strictly systematic: each is discussed in its natural order, and with as much brevity as consists with perspicuity* The analysis of the vocal elements of the English language, and the minute de- scription which is given of their organic formation, will be found important, not only to the American who is desirous of accurate knowledge upon this subject, but also to the foreigner who is learning to speak our vernacular tongue. And the engravings, indicating the most favourable postures of the mouth in the energetic utterance of the elements, will be found a valuable auxiliary in the acquisition of this knowledge. (3) IV PREFACE. In ordinary works on Elocution, the inflections of the voice are given, but not the changes of pitch, which constitute melody. In this work, however, not only are the inflections and the melody given, but also those tran- sitions in pitch, called modulation, or a change of key My method of representing the melody and modula tions of the speaking voice, is original ; and, I feel con- fident, it will prove of singular advantage to the Stu- dent in Elocution. The part on gesture is extracted, principally, from Austin's Chironomia, a work which is extremely rare, and one whose great size and expense are insuperable obstacles to its general introduction. All, however, that is particularly valuable, which the Chironomia con- tains on the subject of gesture, is here presented to the reader in the compass of a few pages. Austin's system of notation of gesture is of great practical utility. This will appear evident to the reader when he shall have learned that, by its application, all the gestures which an orator makes, in the delivery of a discourse, may be accurately recorded for his own practice and improvement, as well as for the benefit of posterity. In the practical part of this work, are Exercises in Articulation, Pitch, Force, Time, and Gesture. These are important, not only to the Student in Elocution, but also to the Stammerer. In training the muscles of speech, as well as those of gesticulation, I begin with exercises of the most energetic kind; because these only will produce the desired effect: by diligently prac- tising energetic exercises, the Student soon acquires a strength and compass of voice, a distinctness of utter- ance, and a freedom and gracefulness of action, which PREFACE. V he could not attain by practising those of an opposite character. The Exercises in Reading and Declamation have been taken from some of the best ancient and modern authors ; and they are well adapted to the purposes of the Student in Elocution. They are divided into para- graphs, and subdivided into sections. The latter divi- sion is marked by vertical bars. In concert reading, as soon as a section is pronounced by the teacher, the members of the class should repeat it together, in the proper pitch and time, and with the requisite degree of force. When a paragraph shall have been pronounced in this way, it should be read singly by each member of the class. Sometimes it will be found advantageous to let each pupil, in turn, give out a piece, and the other members of the class repeat it after him ; the teacher, meanwhile, making the necessary corrections. In fine, the exercise of reading should be practised in a variety of ways according to circumstances. When a piece is given out with gesticulation, the members of the class should rise simultaneously, immediately after the first section is pronounced, and repeat the words and ges- ture. As the organs of speech require much training to enable them to perform their functions properly, the pupil should repeat the same exercise till he can articu- late every element, and give to each syllable the pitch, force, and time which the sentiment demands. The art of reading and speaking is not inferior in importance to any branch of learning ; yet there is none more generally neglected. While many of the merely ornamental branches are cultivated with zealous assi- duity, Elocution is allowed, at best, but a feeble sup- VI PREFACE. port. Among the numerous colleges with which our country abounds, there is not, perhaps, a single one endowed with a professorship of Elocution ! And among our numerous public speakers, how small a num- ber can deliver a discourse without having half the body concealed by a desk or table ! The orators of classic Greece never ensconced themselves behind elevated desks, nor " stood upon all fours," as some of our public speakers do :* they were masters of their art. Hence they needed no screen to conceal uncouth attitudes and awkward gestures from the scrutinizing eye of criti- cism; nor had occasion to present the crown of the head, instead of the face, to the audience, to hide the blush of ignorance : they exposed the whole person to the audience ; they stood erect, in all the dignity of con- scious worth; their attitudes were fit models for the statuary; their gestures were replete with grace and expression ; their elocution defied criticism. Let us endeavour to restore Elocution to its former place in the department of useful instruction. Nothing is wanted but a correct medium, laudable ambition, and common industry, to enable our American youth to rival those ancient orators whose eloquence, it is said, " shook distant thrones, and made the extremities of the earth tremble." ANDREW COMSTOCK. Philadelphia, November 20, 1841. * See Figure 1, page 70. Note. — The Figures which illustrate the subject of this work, were drawn and engraved by Croome and Minot ; the Diagrams were engraved by Mumford. CONTENTS ELOCUTION. Page Introduction 11 Preliminary Observations 14 Elocution 15 PART I. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. Vocal Gymnastics 15 Articulation 16 Elements of the English Language 18 Classification of the Elements 19 The Vowels 21 The Sub-vowels 23 The Aspirates 25 The Postures of the Mouth 27 Defective Articulation 30 Lisping 32 Stammering 33 Pitch 38 Keys of the Speaking Voice 46 Inflections 47 Melody 52 Modulation 53 Force 59 Time 63 PART II. GESTURE. Gesture 69 Postures of the Body .... 69 Postures unfavourable to Vocal Delivery 70 (7) Vlll CONTENTS. Postures favourable to Vocal Delivery 71 Demonstrating on the Black-board 71 Manner of Holding the Book 72 Notation of Gesture 73 Positions of the Feet and Lower Limbs 76 Positions, Motions, and Elevations of the Arms 84 Postures and Motions of the Hands 93 The Head, the Eyes, the Shoulders, and the Body 104 The Stroke and Time of Gesture 105 The Classification of Gesture 108 The Preparation, Transition, and Accompaniment of Gesture. 113 The Frequency, Moderation, and Intermission of Gesture. . . . 123 The Qualities of Gesture, and the Gesture suited to different modes of Public Speaking 125 Significant Gestures 129 Grace 131 Synoptical Arrangement of the Notation Letters 134 Application of the Notation Letters 136 Questions to be answered by the Pupil 159 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. PART I. EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION, PITCH, FORCE, TIME, AND GESTURE. Exercises in Articulation, Pitch, Force, Time, and Gesture . . 167 Table of the Elements of the English Language 167 Emphasis Melodies 172 Interrogative Sentences 174 Force 176 Modulation 176 Tremour 177 Time and Gesture .- 178 Method of Beating Time with the Dumb-Bells 178 Syllable Rhythm 179 Poetry Rhythm 179 First Period of Gesture 182 Second Period of Gesture 183 Pronunciation 184 Declamation 184 Method of Teaching Declamation 185 Speech of Satan to his Legions, with Gestures 185 The Miser and Plutus, with Gestures 192 CONTENTS. IX PART II. EXERCISES IN READING AND DECLAMATION. Account Current Anonymous 358 Adams and Jefferson Wirt 353 An Address to a Young Student Knox 356 Antony's Oration over~Csesar's Body Shakspeare 252 Apostrophe to Light Milton 228 Apostrophe to the Queen of France Burke 209 Battle of Hohenlinden Campbell 204 Battle of Warsaw Campbell 210 Battle of Waterloo Byron 211 Brutus's Oration on the Death of Ceesar Shakspeare 250 Casabianca Mrs. Hemans 338 Cato's Senate Addison 235 Cato's Soliloquy Addison 248 Character of Pitt Robertson 286 Childe Harold's Address to the Ocean Byron 206 Clarence's Dream Shakspeare 287 Darkness Byron 232 Declaration of Independence Jefferson 306 Douglas's Account of Himself Home 304 Edward and Warwick 221 Elegy written in a Country Churchyard Gray 300 Extract from a supposed Speech of John Adams, in support of American Independence Webster 363 Genius Akenside 321 God Derzhavin 267 Greatness Akenside 322 Hamlet's Soliloquy Shakspeare 249 Happy Freedom of the Man whom Grace makes Free. Cowper 279 Hyder Ali Burke 230 Hymn to the Deity Thomson 262 Industry necessary to the Attainment of Eloquence Ware 333 Knowledge De Witt Clinton 364 Lines supposed to have been written by Alexander Selkirk, dur- ing his solitary abode on the Island of Juan Fernandez Cowper 179 Lochiel's Warning Campbell 217 Lochinvar Scott 336 Marco Bozzaris Halleck 213 Mariner's Hymn Mrs. Southey 298 Meeting of Satan, Sin, and Death Milton 339 Moses Smiting the Rock Van Vranken 326 Motives to the Practice of Gentleness Blair 329 Night Thoughts Young 315 X CONTENTS. Ode on the Passions Collins 256 Ossian's Address to the Sun 203 Paper Franklin 325 Perpetual Adoration Moore 294 Pitt's Reply to Walpole 319 Reception of Columbus on his return to Spain W, Irving 349 Scene from Pizarro Kotzebue 295 Schemes of Life often Illusory Dr. Johnson 359 Sincerity Tillotson 343 Speech of Cicero against Verres 244 Speech of Lord Chatham 225 Speech of Patrick Henry 259 Speech of Rolla R. B. Sheridan 205 Speech of Satan to his Leg-ions Milton 201 Speech of Satan, with Gestures 185 Toll's Address to the Mountains Knowles 203 Thanatopsis Bryant 241 The American Flag Drake <$■ Hallcck 328 The Burial of Sir John Moore Wolfe 281 The Chameleon Merrick 275 The Exile of Erin Campbell 280 The Destruction of Senacherib Byron 335 The Grave of Franklin Miss C. H. Waterman 305 The Heavens and the Earth show the Glory and Wisdom of their Creator Goldsmith 282 The Hermit Beattie 220 The Importance of Order in the Distribution of our Time Blair 331 The Invocation Mrs. Hemans 278 The Journey of a Day Dr. Johnson 311 The Land that we Live in C. W. Thomson 31G The Mariner's Dream Dimond 265 The Miser and Plutus Gay 138 The Miser and Plutus, with Gestures 192 The Rose Cowper 181 The Three Warnings Mrs. Thrale 272 The Union of the States Webster 345 Time Van Yranken 327 To the Ursa Major Ware 200 Without God in 'the World Rev. Robert Hall 270 Wolsey's Farewell to Cromwell Shakspeare 318 Wolsey's Soliloquy Shakspeare 317 Woman R. II. Townsend 255 Woman Campbell 342 INTRODUCTION. A N is designed for action. Na- ture has so constituted him, that both body and mind require daily exercise to develope their powers, and maintain them in a vigorous and healthy condition. _3 The truth of this remark is manifest from constant observation and experience — those who lead active, bustling lives, conjoined with temperance and prudence, commonly possess robust frames, and healthy constitutions; while the sedentary and the indolent are enervated and sickly. We find the same results from the exercise of the mental faculties. He whose mind is constantly employed in the acquisition of knowledge, usually retains his mental facul- ties unimpaired to the last. But not so with the man of ease and indolence. After the meridian of life, the powers of his mind, with those of the body, become weaker, and weaker, and he finally leaves the world as he entered it — a child. The health and strength of the body, therefore, mainly depend on the number of muscles that are frequently called into action, and the degree of rational exercise through which they pass. Now there are few, if any, whose daily avocations are so varied as to bring into requisition all the muscles of the body : hence the necessity of gymnastic exer- cises. The term, gymnastics, in its widest sense, signifies all bodily exercises ; in a more limited sense, " exercises syste- matically adapted to develope the physical powers, and pre- serve them in perfection, which constitutes the art of gym- nastics properly so called." til) 12 INTRODUCTION. These exercises, when commenced in youth, develope the muscles, give agility to the limbs, and promote the various functions of the animal system: in this way they impart strength and consistency to the body, and lay the founda- tion of lasting health : and even when commenced in man- hood, they invigorate the frame, and brace it against the infirmities of age. By the frequent and energetic exercise of the muscles, they are brought completely under the control of volition, which is a powerful auxiliary to every variety of action. Hence Gymnastics are not only useful because they exert a healthful influence upon the body ; but because they lay a good foundation for the easy acquisition of every mechanic art. From what has been said of Gymnastics in general, it may readily be conceived that very important advantages may be derived from vocal gymnastics. By the term, Vocal Gymnastics, may be understood the principles of the human voice as employed in speech and song, as well as the training of the organs by which this voice is produced. The principles are the science of the voice — the training, the exercise of the organs, necessary to develope their powers, and enable them to act with rapid- ity, precision, and effect. Vocal Gymnastics give the pupil complete command of the muscles of articulation, extend the compass of the voice, and render it smooth, powerful, and melodious. They not only call forth all the energies of the vocal organs, correct stammering, lisping, &c. ; but they invigorate the lungs, and, consequently, fortify them against the invasion of disease. All the blood, in the course of its circulation, passes through the lungs, where it undergoes a change, not only essential to health, but also to life. Whenever their function, there- fore, is interrupted by debility, or disease, the blood is dete- riorated, and the whole system suffers; in fact, the very citadel of life is sapped, and nothing but a restoration of these organs to their natural condition, will effect a return of genera] health. Indeed, the lungs are of so much impor- INTRODUCTION. 13 tance in the animal economy, that the complete suspension of their office is followed by speedy dissolution. Hence such healthful measures should be adopted as are calculated to invigorate the pulmonary apparatus, and ena- ble it to maintain its integrity. One of the most hopeful expedients for this purpose, is a well-regulated and perse- vering course of vocal gymnastics. Were we to exercise our voices a few minutes, every day, according to just principles, the number of deaths from pul- monary affections, especially consumption, I have no doubt, would be greatly diminished. While Vocal Gymnastics give a keenness to appetite, they are a powerful means of promoting digestion. A young clergyman entered my Vocal Gymnasium, for the purpose of improving his elocution as well as his health. He laboured under dyspepsia which was attended with loss of appetite, general debility, languor, and dejection of spirits. But in twelve days after he commenced the exercises, there was a radical change in his mental and physical condition : he had become very cheerful ; and, to use his own words, his appe- tite was ravenous. Nor is this a solitary case — numerous others might be cited with the like happy result. My pupils have frequently told me that they always feel invigorated by the exercises. A gentleman who was for- merly a pupil of mine, and who had been in the practice of resorting to a common gymnasium for the benefit of his health, assured me that he derived more advantage from his vocal, than from his athletic exercises. Let the individuals, therefore, who visit those gymnasia, designed only for the exercise of the limbs, not neglect the equally important gymnastics of the pulmonary organs. 2 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. As Elocution is intimately connected with the voice, and as every reader may not be prepared to enter upon a minute development of its various principles, the following Prelimi- nary Observations may be of some advantage. Voice is sound, produced by the agitation of air when forcibly expelled from the lungs. The attributes of the voice, are general and special. The general attributes are 'pitch and force, and are common to all voices. The special attributes are those peculiarities which render one voice more agreeable, or disagreeable, than another, as sweetness, harshness, &c. The acuteness and gravity of the voice depend on the contractions and dilatations of the vocal tube. The degree of loudness of the voice, is in proportion to the expulsive effort, and to the resistance which the air meets on its passage through the glottis. When air is forcibly expelled from the lungs, and not suf- ficient resistance given to its egress to produce what is gene- rally understood by the term voice, an aspirated, or whis- pered sound is the result. From voice articulated by the motions of the lips, tongue, and other parts of the mouth, is produced oral language. Hence oral language is not inaptly termed articulated voice. There are two varieties of oral language — song, and speech. In several respects they resemble each other. Thus the notes, both of song, and speech, vaiy in pitch, force, and time. The most striking difference between them, is this: a note of song is maintained in one range of pitch from its commencement to its termination ; but a note of speech is varied in pitch during its prolongation. If you prolong the letter a, in one range of pitch, thus: a you will have an example of a note of song. If you utter it interrogatively, and affirmatively, thus : a"! a. you will have two varieties of the note of speech : the voice in the interrogation, moving from a grave pitch to one more acute ; in the affirmation, from acute to grave. Perhaps enough has been said by way of preliminaries. The principles here mentioned, together with the various others, are methodically presented, fully discussed, and dia- gramically illustrated, in the course of the work. (14) ELOCUTION. LOCUTION is vocal delivery. It may be said to comprise both a science, and an art. The science embraces the principles which con- stitute the basis of reading and speaking; the art, the practical ap- plication of these principles. Elocution is naturally divided into two parts ; namely, Vocal Gymnastics, and Gesture. Vocal Gymnastics is the philosophy of the human voice, as well as the art of training the vocal organs in speech and song. Gesture is the various postures, and motions, em- ployed in vocal delivery. PART I. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. OCAL GYMNASTICSisthe philosophy of the human voice, as well as the art of training the vocal organs, in speech and song. Vocal Gymnastics is subdi- vided as follows : 1. Articulation, 3. Force, 2. Pitch, 4. Ti Articulation is the act of forming, with the organs of speech, the elements of vocal language. Pitch is the degree of the elevation of sounds. (15) 16 ELOCUTION. Force is the degree of the loudness of sounds. Time is the measure of sounds in regard to their duration. SECTION I. ARTICULATION. RTICULATIONistheactof forming,with the organs of speech, the elements of vocal language. These elements may be formed separately, as in the utterance of the letters of the alphabet, as well as conjunctively, as in the pronunciation of words. By the utterance of the letters of the alphabet is not meant the pronunciation of the mere names of the letters, but the formation of the various sounds which the letters represent. A good articulation is the perfect utterance of the elements of vocal language. The first step towards becoming a good elocutionist, is a correct articulation. " A public speaker, possessed of only a moderate voice, if he articulates correctly, will be better understood, and heard with greater pleasure, than one who vociferates without judgment. The voice of the latter may indeed extend to a conside- rable distance, but the sound is dissipated in confusion. Of the former voice not the smallest vibration is wast- ed, every stroke is perceived at the utmost distance to which it reaches ; and hence it has often the appear- ance of penetrating even farther than one which is loud, but badly articulated. " In just articulation, the words are not to be hurried over, nor precipitated syllable over syllable ; nor, as it were, melted together into a mass of confusion : they ARTICULATION. 17 should not be trailed, or drawled, nor permitted to slip out carelessly, so as to drop unfinished. They should be delivered from the lips as beautiful coins newly issued from the mint, deeply and accurately impressed, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, in due succession, and of due weight."* Without good articulation, it is impossible to be & correct reader, or speaker. Those who have been ac customed to pronounce their words in a careless or slo- venly manner, will find it difficult, even with their best efforts, to utter them distinctly. The organs of articulation, for the want of proper exercise, become, as it were, paralyzed. The pupil, therefore, at the very commencement of his studies, should be conduct- ed through a series of exercises, calculated to strengthen the muscles of articulation, and render them obedient to the will. The best method for effecting these pur- poses, is to exercise the voice on the elements of speech ; first, on each element separately ; f secondly, on va- rious combinations. Under the head, Practical Elocution, will be found a variety of Exercises on the Elements of the English language, which are calculated to develope the voice, increase its compass, and give flexibility to the muscles of articulation. In that part of this work which consists of Exercises in Reading and Declamation, most of the sounds liable to be omitted or imperfectly articulated, are re- presented by italic letters. Hence the reader, if he pay proper attention to the subject, will have no difficulty in correcting all ordinary defects in his utterance. The value of vocal gymnastics cannot be duly appreciated by those who have not experienced, or witnessed, their beneficial re- suits. But, I feel confident, the time is not far distant when these exercises will be considered, by all intelligent persons, an essential part of primary instruction. * Austin's Chironomia, p. 37, 38. f " When the elements are pronounced singly, they may re- ceive a concentration of the organic effort, which gives them a clearness of sound and a definite outline, if I may so speak, at their extremes, that make a fine preparative for a distinct and forcible pronunciation in the compounds of speech." — Rush's Philosophy of the Human Voice. 18 ELOCUTION. CHAPTER I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. The Elements of vocal language are the Sounds of which words are composed. These sounds are repre- sented by graphic characters, called letters. The number of letters in the English language, is twenty-six ; but the number of elements is thirty-eight. Hence, as the number of elements exceeds the number of their literal signs, the same letter is employed, in different situations, to represent different sounds. Thus a represents four different sounds ; e, two ; i, two ; o, three ; u, three ; z, two ; and there are six sounds, each of which is represented by two letters — ou, ng, sh, wh, th in then, and th in thin. (See p. 19 and 20.) If we had a perfect alphabet, every elementary sound would be represented by its appropriate character.* * That men have accomplished much by furnishing the world with literature, art, and science, will be conceded by all. Nor will it be denied by any that there remains much to be done to carry all human institutions to their acme of excellence. Among- the nu- merous proofs that our institutions have not attained their highest possible degree of perfection, is the fact that the world is now fur- nished with as much genius for contrivance, wisdom for invention, and judgment for application, as at any former period. He, there- fore, who advocates the doctrine of present perfection in human productions, suggests, at least, the possibility that that amount of mind which is unnecessary to the successful application of the pre- sent principles, means, and inventions to their respective purposes, is rendered a redundancy by the want, of appropriate subjects upon which to operate. The English language, though by no means far advanced in years, has already been the subject of much concur- rent, and individual action; yet there is hardly one part of it which is not marred with defect, or deficiency. Even the English alpha- bet suffers from both these imperfections. To attain perfection in any thing, is, perhaps, beyond the power of man, especially in the medium of communicating his ideas. But although perfection in lan- guage can hardly be expected, yet, there is a degree of excellence which is not so difficult of attainment as to render all exertion una- ARTICULATION. 19 The elements, as well as the letters by which they are represented, are usually divided into two classes, Vowels and Consonants. A more philosophical divi- sion, however, is into three classes, Vowels, Subvowels, and Aspirates. The vowels are pure vocal sounds ; their number is fifteen. The subvowels have a vocality, but inferior to that of the vowels ; their number is fourteen. The aspirates are made with the whispering breath, and, consequently, have no vocality ; they are nine in number. Classification of the Elements, VOWELS. English. French. a as heard in ale, day, fate, and in ete. a arm, farm, arme, gaz, gaze. a all, law, for, & an, man, idea, aller. b eve, see, deed, tie. £ end, met, err, elle. i He, %, pine, 1 in, pin, i\. 6 old, no, more, eau. 6 lose, too, move, vowte. 6 on, lock, not, ecole. vl tabe, few, pwpil, ti up, her, hart, JGarope. u full, pull, wolf, ou. ou owr, now, flowr, vailing. There are thirty-eight elements in the English alphabet, and, to represent these elements by appropriate characters, we should have thirty-eight letters. There is, then, a deficiency in our alphabet of twelve letters — and he who shall supply this imperfection, will be one of the greatest benefactors of the human race. This work must be done before our orthography can be rendered consistent, our pronunciation natural &nd uniform, and our language easy of acquisition. Until this is accomplished, words must be spelled one way, and pronounced another — indeed, two languages must be learned, instead of one. Should the English language, as some confidently expect, become the language of the world, the advan- tages in which a complete alphabet would result, can be conceived by those only who have duly reflected upon the subject. 20 ELOCUTION. SUBVOWELS. English. French. b as heard in bow, orb, barb, and in bon. d day, bid, did, Dieu. S gay, %. g'*gi gai. 1 light, all, lull, Zoup m mind, storm, maim, mon. n no, on, nine, non. ng song, think, ag-neau (nearly). r roll, war, rare, roue. th THen, wiTH, v rile, liue, value, vi\. w wo, went, world, oui (nearly). y yoke, yonder, yacht. i zone, his, prism, zone. 2 azure, enclosure ,/ardin. ASPIRATES. f fame, if, drift, /emrae. h hut, hence, k kite, wrecA;, kick, cor. p pit, up, papa. s sin, nice, crisp, sceur. sh s&ade, oush, flushed, cAaise. t tin, it, tart, four. th thin, truth, months, wh what, when, which, The reader may ask why C, J, Q, and X, have not been classed with the elements. These letters have no sounds which are not represented, in the above scheme, by other letters. C has three sounds — the sound of k, as in cat; that of s, as in cedar, and that of sh, as in ocean. J expresses the combined sounds of d and z in azure. Q has the sound of k. X, as in exercise, expresses the combined sounds of A; and s ; in example, the combined sounds of g and z in zone ; in anxious, the combined sounds of k and sh. In Xenophon, x has the sound of z in 2one.* *Xin Xenophon was pronounced by the ancient Greeks as we pronounce x in exercise, thus — Ksenophon; and I am informed by Mr. Castanis, a native of the island of Scio, that the modern Greeks so pronounce it. ARTICULATION. 21 CHAPTER II. THE VOWELS. The vowels are divided into Monothongs, Diph- thongs, and Triphthongs. The Monothongs consist of one kind of sound through- out their concrete movement, and consequently are simple elements ; they are represented by the italics in the following words : crm, all, an, eve, end, in, on, wp, full. The Diphthongs consist of two vowel sounds, which coalesce so intimately that they appear like one uni- form sound ; they are represented by the italics in the following words : ale, tie, lose, tube. The diphthong a, as well as i, has a characteristic sound for its radical, and the monothong, 1, for its van- ish. These diphthongs, under certain circumstances (for instance, when they are carried through a wide range of pitch, as in interrogation with surprise), are converted into triphthongs, the third constituent being the monothong, e. The diphthong 6, as well as u, has a characteristic sound for its radical, and the subvowel w, for its vanish. The Triphthongs consist of three vowel sounds which coalesce so intimately that they appear like one uni- form sound ; they are represented by the italics, in the following words : old, owr. The first constituent of 6, as well as that of ou, is a sound characteristic of this element ; and the diph- thong 6 constitutes the second and the third constitu- ent of these triphthongs. The following scheme is an analysis of the diph- thongs and triphthongs. The reader will observe that 22 ELOCUTION the letters which are employed to represent the diph- thongs and triphthongs, are used under the head, Con- stituents, to represent their radicals only. Diphthongs. Constituents, k k — 1 1 1— 1 6 6 — w u u — w Triphthongs. Constituents. a* k —1— 6 1* 1 —I_ h 6 6 — 6 — w ou ou — 6 — w There is one diphthong, and three triphthongs, be- sides those already noticed; they are represented by the italics, in the following words : oil, ay, boy, buoy. But, as all their constituents are to be found among the fifteen vowels before enumerated, they do not in- crease the number of the elements. This may be seen by the following analysis : Diphthong. Constituents, oi k — i Triphthongs. Constituents, ay k — i — e. oy k — i — h uoy 6 — I — h During the utterance of a monothong, the aperture of the mouth remains stationary ; but during that of a diphthong, or triphthong, the aperture is gradually di- minished till the commencement of the last constituent; it then remains stationary till the sound is ended. This is illustrated by the following diagrams : Diagram 1. Diag. 2. Diag. 3. The opening of the tube (Diag. 1,) represents the aperture of the mouth in the utterance of the mono- * I have said that a and 1 are sometimes diphthongs, and some- times triphthongs ; hence, above, they appear under both heads. ARTICULATION. 23 thong a, and the length of the tube represents the du- ration of the sound. The large end of Diag. 2 represents the aperture of the mouth in commencing the utterance of the diph- thong 6 — the portion of the figure between 6 and iv, shows the gradual diminution of the aperture of the mouth during the utterance of the first constituent, and the remaining portion shows the stationary position of the aperture of the mouth during the utterance of the second constituent. The large end of Diag. 3, represents the aperture of the mouth in commencing the utterance of the triph- thong 6 — the portion of the figure between 6 and 6, shows the gradual diminution of the aperture of the mouth during the utterance of the first constituent — the portion between 6 and w, shows the gradual dimi- nution of the aperture of the mouth during the utter- ance of the second constituent ; and the remaining por- tion of the figure, the stationary position of the aperture of the mouth during the utterance of the third constitu- ent. CHAPTER III. THE SUBVOWELS. B consists of a vocal sound and an aspirate. The first constituent is formed with the lips closed ; the second, by aspirating the vowel ii, at the moment of their separation.* When B is doubled, as in rabbit, the second constituent of the first B is omitted. When B is whispered, the second constituent only is heard. When words in which B is doubled are whispered, the first B is mute. D consists of a vocal sound and an aspirate. The first constituent is formed with the tip of the tongue * Care should be taken not to make the second constituent vocal. 24 ELOCUTION. pressed against the gums of the upper incisory teeth ; the second, by aspirating the vowel u at the moment of its removal.* When D is doubled, as in addition, the second constituent of the first D is omitted. When D is whispered, the second constituent only is heard. When words in which D is doubled are whispered, the first D is mute. G consists of a vocal sound and an aspirate. The first constituent is formed with the root of the tongue pressed against the curtain, or vail of the palate ; f the second, by aspirating the vowel u at the moment of its removal.* When G is doubled, as in haggard, the second constituent of the first G is omitted. When G is whispered, the second constitu- ent only is heard. When words in which G is doubled are whis- pered, the first G is mute. L is a vocal sound, made with the tip of the tongue pressed against the gums of the upper incisory teeth. M is a nasal sound, made with the lips closed. N is a nasal sound, formed with the tip of the tongue pressed against the gums of the upper incisory teeth. NG, as in song, is a nasal sound, formed with the root of the tongue pressed gently against the curtain of the palate. R is a vocal sound, of which there are two varieties. The first is called the trilled R, and is made by caus- ing the tongue to vibrate against the gums of the upper incisor teeth, while the breath is propelled through the mouth ; the second is called the smooth R, and is made with the tip of the tongue elevated towards the centre of the roof of the mouth. R should be trilled when it precedes a vowel, as in roll, crush, &c,; but when it follows a vowel, as in air, orb, &c, it should be made smooth. I have met with a number of individuals who could not trill the R, and others who did it with difficulty. Those who cannot trill it * Care should be taken not to make the second constituent vocal. f In the language of anatomy, velum pendulum palali. ARTICULATION. 25 in a graceful manner, had better not attempt it in public ; let such, however, not despair — their vocal organs may be rendered flexible by frequent and energetic exercise. TH, as in then, is a compound of vocality and aspi- ration, formed with the tip of the tongue resting against the inner surface of the upper incisory teeth. V is a compound of vocality and aspiration. It is formed with the under lip pressed against the edge of the upper incisory teeth. W is a vocal sound, formed with the lips contracted as in the act of whistling. Y is a vocal sound, formed with the lips and teeth a little separated. Z, as in zone, is a buzzing sound, a compound of vo- cality and aspiration. It is formed by pressing the tip of the tongue gently against the gums of the upper incisors, and forcing out the breath. Z, as in azure, is a compound of vocality and aspi- ration. It is formed with the tip of the tongue nearly in the same position as is z in zone, though drawn a little further back, and somewhat widened, so as to enlarge the aperture formed by its upper surface and the roof of the mouth, through which the breath is forced. CHAPTER IV. THE ASPIRATES. F, like V, is formed with the under lip pressed against the upper incisory teeth. H is the inceptive part of a vowel sound, aspirated in a particular way. H may be uttered in as many varieties of ways as there are vowels in the language ; each requiring the same posture of the mouth, which the vowel itself requires. K is formed bv pressing the root of the tongue against 3 26 ELOCUTION. the curtain of the palate, and then aspirating the vowel u. When this element is doubled, as in fickle (pronounced flkkl) the first k is mute. IP is formed by closing the lips, and then aspirating the vowel u. When this element is doubled, as in happy, the first P is mute. S is a hissing sound, and, like z in zone, is formed with the tip of the tongue pressed gently against the gums of the upper incisory teeth. It is nearly the same as z in zone aspirated. SH is formed with the tongue in the same position as is z in azure. SH is nearly the same sound as z in azure, aspirated. T is formed by pressing the tip of the tongue against the gums of the upper incisory teeth, and then aspirat- ing the vowel u.* When T is doubled, as in attempt, the first T is mute. TH, as in thin, like th in then, is formed with the tip of the tongue pressed against the upper incisory teeth. It is nearly the same sound as the subvowel TH aspirated. WH is the inceptive part of the vowel u aspirated in a particular way. The sound which is produced, in the formation of this element, is nearly the same as hu, whispered. WH requires the same posture of the mouth that the vowel u requires. That hu and wh are not identical, may be proved by pronounc- ing, alternately, the words hoom and whoom, and observing the contrast between them. * Although of no practical importance, it may not be uninterest- ing to the philosophic reader to know that the second constituent of the subvowels B, D, G, and of the aspirates, K, P, T, is formed by aspirating the vowel u only when these elements are uttered singly, when they are final, and when they are followed by a con- sonant. When they are followed by a vowel, their second consti- tuent is formed by aspirating that vowel. This may be rendered obvious by pronouncing forcibly, and deliberately, the words, Bay, Day, Gay, and Kay, Pay, Tay, or any other words, in which B, D, G, and K, P, T are followed by vowels. ARTICULATION. 27 CHAPTER V. THE POSTURES OF THE MOUTH. An accurate knowledge of the positions which the organs of articulation should assume in the formation of the several elements of vocal language, is very im- portant to those who would speak with ease and ele- gance. To aid the reader still further in the acquisi- tion of this knowledge, he is furnished with the various postures of the mouth, required in uttering the elements energetically, and singly. The elements are grouped according to the posture in which the mouth should be when they are formed. It will be seen that the Diphthongs and Triphthongs have each two postures of the mouth — one at the commencement, the other at the termination of the sound. These postures are, of course, more or less modified, when the elements are uttered in their various combi- nations, and with different degrees of force. The pupil should exercise his organs of speech, in the most forcible manner, three times a week, and, if pos- sible, even every day, on all the elements. The vow- els should be exploded from the throat, both interroga- tively and affirmatively, in every range of pitch within the compass of the voice, and with every possible de- gree of force. The vowels are exploded in the following manner: make a full inspiration, close the glottis, and contract the muscles of expiration so as to condense the air in the lungs, then utter the element with a sudden and forcible emission of the breath. The sounds thus pro- duced may be denominated vocal thunder; the effect upon an audience is electrical. This exercise strengthens the vocal organs, and ena- bles the speaker to be heard at a great distance, with very little effort, or expenditure of breath. It is also beneficial to health. 28 E L O C U T I O N ARTICULATION. 29 6ow mind pit ale He old our 30 ELOCUTION. CHAPTER VI. DEFECTIVE ARTICULATION. Articulation is defective when one or more ele- ments of a word are omitted, or imperfectly formed ; or when one element is substituted for another. Defective articulation is exceedingly common : per- haps there is not one individual in ten thousand whose articulation is perfect. This arises from the neglect of a proper gymnastic training of the organs of speech in childhood. As soon as children are capable of imitating sounds, they should be taught the elements of vocal language ; and, to facilitate their acquisition of this knowledge, they should be made to exercise before a mirror, so as to compare the movements of their own lips with those of the lips of their instructor. By pur- suing this course, a good foundation will be laid for a perfect and graceful articulation. In that part of this work which consists of Exercises in Reading and Declamation, all, or nearly all, the letters representing sounds liable to be omitted, or im- perfectly articulated, are italicised. Hence it is not necessary to furnish examples, and treat of the subject minutely, in this place. There are, however, some in- stances of defective articulation, which are not pointed out by the italic letters — these are so important that they deserve special notice. I allude to those cases in which one element is substituted for another. The remainder of this chapter will be devoted to their con- sideration. Children are apt to substitute the sound of d for that of g in gay ; and the sound of t for that of k, or c in cat. Thus, for gay, they say day ; for cake, tate, &c To enable the pupil to correct these faults, I explain to him the manner in which the sounds of g and k are ARTICULATION. 31 produced — they are formed by pressing the root of the tongue against the soft palate, and not, like d and t, by pressing its tip against the gums of the upper incisors. I then direct him to pronounce, after me, the elements, d, g, and t, k, and the syllables da, ga, and ta, ka, thus : d, g; d,g; d, g; d, g; d, g; d, g; d, g ; d, g; d, g. da, ga ; da, ga. ; da, ga ; da, ga ; de, ge ; de, ge ; &c. ta, ka ; ta, ka ; ta, ka ; ta, ka ; te, ke ; te, ke ; &c. The object of this exercise is to contrast the substituted sound with the correct one. When this plan does not prove successful, I open my mouth as widely as possible, so that the tip of the tongue cannot touch the gums of the upper teeth, and request the pupil to open his in like manner. I then direct him to pronounce, after me, the following sylla- bles : ga, ga, ga, ga ; ge, ge ; gl, gl ; go, go, g6 ; gu, gu, gu ; gou. ka, ka, ka, ka ; ke, ke ; kl, ki ; k6, k6, k6 ; ku, ku, ku ; kou. %» &g> l g> ^g> ug, oug; ak, ek, Ik, 6k, uk, ouk. When neither of these schemes proves successful, I request the pupil to press his tongue downwards, and backwards, with his index finger, while I do the same, and pronounce, after me, the syllables in the preceding exercise. This I have never known to fail. Some children omit the element z, when it follows d, and the element sh when it follows t ; for instance, they pronounce John, don, and Charles, tarles, &c* My method of correcting, these defects is to contrast the false pronunciation with the true one, as in the follow- ing exercise : da, d£a ; da, dSa; da, d2a; da, d2a; de, d2e; &c. ta, tsha; ta, tsha; ta, tsha; ta, tsha ; te, tshe ; «fec. * J is a compound of d and z in azure ; and ch is equivalent to tsh. 32 ELOCUTION. The v and w are confounded by some perons ; for instance, when they would say vine, they say wine, and vice versa. An attention to the proper postures of the mouth, in the production of these elements will soon enable the pupil to correct this fault.* (See pos- tures of the mouth, page 28.) The following exercise, founded on the principle of contrast, should be fre- quently practised by the pupil, in the most energetic manner. va, wa ; va, wa ; va, wa ; va, wa ; ve, we ; ve, we ; &c. wa, va; wa, va ; wa, va ; wa, va ; we, ve ; we, ve ; &c. In correcting faults in articulation, I often find it advantageous to exercise the pupil before a mirror, that he may observe the contrast between the movements of his own mouth, and those of mine. LISPING. Lisping is the substitution of the sound of th for that of some other letter, generally for that of s in sin. Thus the words, sale, send, sight, song, &c, are pro- nounced thale, thend, thight, thong, &c. The lisper should be told, that, in forming the sound of th, the tip of the tongue is pressed gently against the inner surface of the upper incisor teeth ; whereas, in forming that of s, it is placed, in like manner, against the gums of the upper incisor teeth. Hence, to avoid making th for s, the tongue should be drawn back a little, and its point turned upward against the gums of the upper teeth. In the correction of lisping, the fol- lowing exercise may be practised with advantage : tha, sa ; tha, sa ; tha, sa ; tha, sa; the, si; the, the; &c. * A young' gentleman recently entered my institution who had many faults in his utterance. Among- others was the singular one of pronouncing vw for v: for vine, he said vwine; for vale, vwale, &c. This, as well as the other numerous faults with which his pronunciation was mnrred, arose from the want of proper instruc- tion upon the use of the organs of speech. ARTICULATION. 33 The defects of articulation, in which one element is substituted for another, are numerous ; but, as the method of treatment is similar in all, it is presumed enough has been said to enable the teacher to manage them successfully, particularly as appropriate exer- cises, for most of them, will be found in the practical part of this work. CHAPTER VII. STAMMERING. Stammering is a functional derangement of the or- gans of speech, which renders them incapable, under certain circumstances, of promptly obeying the com- mands of the will. In a majority of cases, the cause of this affection operates through the medium of the mind. Stammering is cured by a regular course of hygienic elocution. But, as the disease exists under a variety of forms, it requires a variety of treatment. And, as the treatment is medico-elocutional, he who would apply it successfully, must unite the skill of the elocu- tionist with that of the physician. The idea that non- medical men are capable of discharging the duties of applying the remedies to complicated complaints of the human body, is a sui generis in logic, and a bane in the practice of the healing art. As a. full consideration of the subject of stammering is not compatible with the design of this work ; and, as I am preparing for publication another which will treat exclusively of impediments of speech, I shall con- clude the present chapter with the following Remarks on Stammering, from a, Lecture on Elocution, delivered before the American Lyceum, May 6, 1837, by Andrew Comstock, M.D. For the last ten years the author of these remarks has been engaged in an investigation of the philosophy of the 34 ELOCUTION. human voice, with a view to the formation of a system of just Elocution, and to the discovery of the true means for removing impediments of speech in stammerers. How far he has succeeded in his attempt, is not for him to say. His system is the result of his own reflection and experience ; and, as it is founded in philosophy, it is the only true system. The following pages contain the mere outlines of the system. The work itself will be presented to the public as soon as the author's other labours will permit. Stammering or stuttering is a hesitation or interruption of speech, and is usually attended with more or less distortion of feature. This affection presents itself under a variety of forms ; but my limits will not allow me to give a particular description of them. I will notice only the most striking. In some cases, the stammerer makes an effort to speak, and all his breath is expelled without producing vocality ; in others, the lips are spasmodically closed : — these two forms often occur in the same case. Sometimes the stammerer, while speaking or reading, loses all power over the vocal organs, and remains some moments with his mouth open, before he can recover sufficient energy to proceed. In many cases, the stammerer repeats the word imme- diately preceding the one he is attempting to pronounce, or he re- peats, in a rapid manner, the first element, or the first syllable, of the difficult word. Causes. — The predisposing causes are nervous irritability and delicacy of constitution. The most usual exciting causes are diffidence, embarrassment, a fear of not being successful when about to make an effort to speak, an attempt to speak faster than the vocal organs can assume the proper positions for utterance. Two or more of these causes often occur in the same case. Sometimes the habit of stammering is acquired by imitation. The proximate cause of stammering is a spasmodic action of the muscles of speech. Prognosis. — The probability of a cure depends upon the follow- ing circumstances : If the stammerer has a cheerful disposition, is distinguished for energy of mind and decision of character, can ap- preciate the variations of pitch in speech and song, or, in other words, has an ear for music and a taste for elocution, the prognosis is favourable. But if he is of a nervous temperament, subject to melancholy, irresolute of purpose, incapable of imitation in speaking and singing, the prognosis is unfavourable. Treatment. — The stammerer should be impressed with the importance, nay, necessity, of giving exclusive attention to the sub- ject ; and he should not be allowed to converse with any one till ARTICULATION. 35 he can speak without stammering. These rules cannot be too strongly enforced. I am fully persuaded of this from my own ex- perience. Several stammerers, who have placed themselves under my care, taking but two or three lessons a week, and attending to their usual avocations, have left me disappointed ; while those who have given undivided attention to the subject, have been entirely relieved. True, many are more or less benefited even by occasion ally taking a lesson ; but it is very difficult, by any irregular course, to effect a radical cure. The habit of stammering should be ar- rested at once; for, while it is continued, how is it possible that the habit of speaking correctly can be established? Great pains should be taken to inspire the stammerer with confi- dence. He should be convinced that his success depends mainly upon his own exertions: that he must pursue the various exercises assigned him with indefatigable zeal, with untiring industry; that he has the same organs of speech as other people, and nothing is necessary to enable him to use them as well, but a conviction in his ability to do so. To think that one can do, gives almost the ability to accomplish — but to think that one cannot do, virtually takes away the ability to do, even where it is ample. Stammering is often continued by the subordinate estimation which the stammerer puts upon himself. He is too apt to consider those around him giants, and himself a dwarf. As this estimation of himself serves to perpetuate his disease, it is clear that its reme- dy must be found in making himself equal to any: if this mental classification into giants and dwarfs must take place, let the stam- merers make themselves the giants, and those around them the dwarfs. The teacher should study the disposition of his pupil: he should persuade him to banish from his mind all melancholy thoughts — in short, he should do every thing in his power to render his pupil cheerful and happy. Various athletic exercises should be resorted to daily, to invigo- rate all the muscles of voluntary motion, and diminish nervous irri- tability. In some cases it may be necessary to have recourse to tonics, anti-spasmodics, bathing in salt water, frictions over the whole surface of the body, &c, &c. Electricity may be used with advantage as a tonic, and also as a means of interrupting the spasm of the vocal organs. The vocal treatment is deduced from the following circum- stances : 1. An ability to sing. 2. An ability to speak when alone: 3. And if the stammerer must speak before an audience, the smaller the audience and the farther he is removed from it, the better. 36 ELOCUTION. 4. An ability to speak amidst a noise that is sufficient to render the human voice nearly or quite inaudible. 5. An ability to speak better in the dark than in the light. 6. An ability to speak in a measured manner. 7. An ability to speak in a drawling manner. 8. An ability to speak with the mouth more or less distorted. 9. An ability to speak in any key, either higher or lower than that in which the stammerer usually converses. 10. An ability to speak with a halloo. 11. An ability to speak when the attention is divided or arrested by some object or circumstance more or less irrelevant to the sub- ject. 12. An ability to speak in concert or simultaneously. Every one who has learned to sing, knows how much easier it is to sing in concert than alone. All the exercises, therefore, for the cure of stammering, should, at first, be conducted in concert. Stammering may be considered a fault in elocution, the result of defective education, and is confirmed by habit. If children were properly instructed in speaking and reading, this affection of the vocal organs would, probably, seldom or never occur. Hence, no mode of treatment that is not founded in just elocution or the cor- rect exercise of the organs of speech for the purposes of vocal ex- pression, can be relied on. This must appear obvious to every in- telligent and reflecting mind. The stammerer must be taught how to give language the pitch, time, and force which the sense requires. To effect this, his muscles of speech, which have long been refrac- tory, must be trained till they are brought under the control of volition, and like a well-marshalled troop of soldiers, made to act in harmonious concert. Oral language may be resolved into certain sounds which are its elements. Now there are certain positions of the organs of speech more favourable than others for the production of the elements. The stammerer should be made thoroughly acquainted with these positions, and, in connexion with them, should be required to exer- cise his voice in the most energetic manner upon all the elements singly, till he can utter them without hesitation. He should also utter them in various combinations, not only according to the laws of syllabication, but in every irregular way. The vowels should be exploded from the throat with great force; and they should be sung, as well as pronounced with the rising and falling inflection, through every interval of pitch within the compass of the voice. The pupil should be drilled in various exercises whose highest peculiarity is time and force. Time may be measured by means of the Metronome, by beating with the hand, and by marching.* * Also by beating with the dumb-bells. ARTICULATION. 37 Pitch, time, and force, are the elements of expression, and a proper combination of them in reading and speaking, constitutes good elo- cution. When, therefore, the stammerer becomes master of these elements, as well as the elements of the language, he may com- mence speaking and reading. In his first attempts at conversation, both teacher and pupil should speak in a deliberate manner, with a full, firm tone of voice, and in a very low pitch. The stammerer should now commit to memory a short piece which requires to be spoken with explosive force; for example, " Satan's speech to his legions." The members of the class should stand at a sufficient distance from each other to prevent their hands coming in contact when their arms are extended. They should then pronounce the speech in concert, after the teacher, and accom- pany it with appropriate gesticulation. It should be repeated again and again, till each pupil can give it proper expression, both a& regards voice and gesture. Each pupil should then, in turn, take the place of the teacher and give out the speech to the class. To prevent the pupil's stammering, while he is performing the teach- er's part, the teacher himself should play an accompaniment on the violoncello, violin, organ, drum, or some other instrument. At first the notes should be made very loud ; but if the effort of the pupil, standing out of the class, is likely to be successful, they should gra- dually be made softer and softer, and, finally, the accompaniment omitted altogether. This piece should be pronounced alternately with one which requires to be spoken with long quantity and in a low pitch, as " Ossian's Address to the Sun." When the pupil has mastered these two kinds of reading, he may take up dignified dialogue, and, lastly, conversational pieces. He should drawl out difficult words, which are generally those having short vowels preceded by labials, dentals, and gutturals. In very bad cases of stammering, the pupil should first sing the words, then drawl them, then pronounce them with very long quan- tity, and thus gradually approximate to common speaking. As soon as the pupils can speak without stammering, they should recite singly in a very large room, or in the open air, at a distance from the audience, which, at first, should consist of the members of the class only. A few visiters should be occasionally introduced, and the number should be gradually increased. In this way the stammerer will soon acquire sufficient confidence to speak before a large assembly. In some cases it may be expedient for the stam- merer to recite before an audience in a dark room ; but as he ac- quires confidence, light should be gradually admitted. Stammerers, instead of speaking immediately after inspiration, as they should do, often attempt to speak immediately after expiration, when, of course, they have no power to speak. The lungs, like a bellows, perform their part in the process of speaking, best, when plentifully supplied with air. This is an important fact, and should 4 38 ELOCUTION. be remembered, not only by stammerers, but also by those who have occasion to read or speak in public. Loud speaking, long-continued, with the lungs but partially distended, is very injurious to these organs : it is apt to occasion a spitting of blood, v. hich is not unfre- quently a precursor of pulmonary consumption. But loud speaking, with proper management of the breath, is a healthful exercise : be- sides strengthening the muscles which it calls into action, it pro motes the decarbonization of the blood, and, consequently, exerts a salutary influence on the system generally. [See additional re- marks, in Appendix at the end of the volume, where will be found an account of the new surgical operation for the radical cure of stammering, which has been performed, with more or less success, both in Europe and in this country.] SECTION II. PITCH. ITCH is the degree of the eleva- tion of sounds. As pitch regards the elevation of sounds, it respects their acuteness and gravity. I use the term pitch in its widest significa- tion. — In the science of music, it is used not only in the sense in which I employ it, , but it also has a special application : in the latter, it is applied to the medium note, the regulating note to which instruments are brought by the act of tuning. When ap- plied in this sense, it is termed concert-pitch. The note which has been adopted, by common consent, as the pitch-note, is A, the open note of the second string of the violin: it is written in the second space of the treble staff. A lax division of pitch is into high and low ; in other words, into acute and grave ; (those notes being called high, or acute, which are above the natural pitch of the voice ; and those low, or grave, which are below it). Strictly speaking, the application of high and low, to pitch, is without philosophic foundation: it has originated, not from any PITCH. 39 principles in the acuteness and gravity of sound, but from the rela- tive position of the notes in the graphic scale. This is obvious from the fact that the degrees of the scale may be exemplified in a horizontal line, by varying the forms of the graphic notes, as was done by the Greeks. An exact division of pitch, as demonstrated by the diatonic scale, is into tones and semitones.* The word tone, as here employed, signifies a certain degree of difference in pitch between two notes, as that between the first and second note of the scale. But in some cases we use the word tone, as synonymous with note ; for instance, in some persons the tones of the voice are more musical than in others — that is, the notes of the voice. The diatonic scale consists of seven sounds, moving discretely from grave to acute, or from acute to grave, by different degrees of pitch, of which the semitone may be the common measure, or divisor, without a fraction. The scale, however, is not complete without the octave, which is a repetition of the first note in the eighth degree. The notes do not ascend by equal degrees of pitch, but by tones and semitones ; the semitones occurring between the third and fourth, and seventh and eighth. The order of the scale, therefore, is as follows : two tones and a semitone, three tones and a semitone. And should it be desirable to extend the series of sounds, the eighth note of the first octave will become the first note of the second octave ; the eighth note of the second oc- tave, the first note of the third, and so on. In teaching the pupil to " raise and fall the eight notes," as it is called, the monosyllables, Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Si,f may be employed. Diag. 4 is a graphic representation of the scale. The heavy, horizontal, parallel lines, represent the notes ; and the spaces between them, the consecutive intervals of the scale. * Diatonic [Greek, 6ux, by or through, and novo*;, sound]. Ascending or descending by sounds whose proximate intervals are not more than a tone, nor less than a semitone. | Pronounced D6, Ra, Me, Fa, S61, La, S£. 40 ELOCUTION The Diatonic Scale. (Diog. 4.) -8- -7- -Do- -Si- -6- -La- -5- -Sol- -4- -3- -Fa- -Mi- -2- -Re- -1- -Do~ -es An interval is a difference in pitch. Intervals are either discrete, or concrete. A discrete interval is the difference in pitch between any two notes which vary from each other in acuteness and gravity. A concrete interval is that portion of the scale through which the voice slides on a concrete of speech. The difference in pitch between the first and second note of the scale, is called the interval of a tone, or second ; between the second and third, a tone ; between the third and fourth, a semitone ; between the fourth and fifth, a tone ; between the fifth and sixth, a tone ; be- tween the sixth and seventh, a tone ; between the se- venth and eighth, a semitone. The difference in pitch between the first and third note of the scale, is called the interval of a third ; be- tween the first and fourth, the interval of a fourth ; be- tween the first and fifth, the interval of a fifth ; between the first and sixth, the interval of a sixth ; between the first and seventh, the interval of a seventh; between the first and eighth, the interval of an octave. The intervals between the first and third, fourth and sixth, and fifth and seventh, are called major thirds ; because they contain two tones, or four semitones ; but as the intervals between the second and fourth, third PITCH 41 and fifth, and sixth and eighth, con- tain but three semitones, they are de- nominated minor thirds. In the expression of our thoughts by oral language, we employ three sorts of voice — the natural voice, the falsetto voice, and the whispering voice, which I shall now attempt to describe. The medium compass of the voice, in those whose voices have been pro- perly cultivated, is three octaves.* There is, however, a point of pitch at which the voice, in ascending the scale, is said to break. This point, in a majority of persons, is about two octaves above the lowest note of the voice. The natural voice embraces all the notes below this point ; the falsetto, all the notes above it. (See Diag. 5.) The Italians call the natural voice voce di petto, and the falsetto voice voce di testa ; f because they suppose the former to come from the chest, and the latter from the head. This error has arisen from a want of anato- mical and physiological knowledge of the vocal organs. Voice is never formed in the chest, or in the head ; it is always formed in the upper part of the larynx, at the aperture of the glottis. It is, however, formed higher, or lower in the throat, according to its de- gree of acuteness, or gravity. At the command of the will, the larynx may be elevated, or depressed, and the aperture of the glot- tis enlarged, or diminished. The larynx is the most depressed, and the aperture of the glottis the most dilated, when the gravest sound is formed ; and the larynx is the most elevated, and the aperture Diag 5. 8 ,-Do- 7 -Si- . 6 -La- # o 'o > 5 -Sol- _6 o 4 -Fa- J2 £-1 DQ 'a 3 -Mi- s 6 2 -Re- 'o > 1 -Do- 7 ~Si- £ D 6 -La- hU O -S 5 -Sol- t— a o 4 -Fa- £ CO 3 -Mi- S a 6 o 'o 2 -Re- s 3 > "3 1 -Do- 1 S-H 7 -Si- s 6 -La- 5 -Sol- OD 3 4 -Fa- PQ 3 -Mi- 2 -Re- 1 -Do- * It is said that the ear is capable of perceiving nine octaves, f Voce di petto (Ital.), voice from the breast. Voce di testa, voice from the head. 4* 42 ELOCUTION. of the glottis the most contracted, when the acutest sound is formed. Hence grave sounds appear to come from the chest, and acute ones from the head, or roof of the mouth. From this circumstance, no doubt, has arisen the error of calling the natural voice voce di petto, and the falsetto voice voce di testa. The whispering voice does not, like the natural voice, and the falsetto, owe its peculiarity to pitch, but to the absence of what is generally understood by the term vocality. The compass of the whispering voice is about an octave. My own extends, through ten degrees of the scale.* The natural pitch of the female voice is an octave above that of the male voice. The pitch of the female voice corresponds to that of the violin ; the pitch of the male voice, to that of the violoncello. The voices of boys are of the same pitch as the female voice — one octave above a man's voice. When boys are about the age of fourteen, their voices undergo a change of pitch. The notes of the falsetto voice are called treble ; the upper notes of the natural voice, tenor; and the lower notes of the natural voice, bass.-f (See Diag. 5.) The divisions of the voice, as given by Italian au- thors, and adopted by many musicians of other coun- tries, are as follows : " There are three departments in the human voice, viz., the high, the middle, and the low. These depart- ments are in the female, as well as in the male voice. Soprano, mezzo soprano, and contralto, are female voices. Tenore, baritono, and basso, are male voices. "J The reader will observe that the falsetto voice is not included in the above division. To a bass, a baritone, and a contralto voice, natu- * Notes analogous to those of the whispering voice may be made on the German flute, and some other wind instruments, through the compass of an octave. f When I speak of the voice, I speak of the adult male voice, unless otherwise stated. | Introduction to the Art and Science of Music, by Phil. Tra- jetta. PITCH. 43 rally good, or made so by cultivation, Dr. Rush applies the term orotund. The notes of music are named after the first seven letters of the alphabet, and are represented by graphic notes, which are written on five horizontal, parallel lines, and in the intermediate spaces. These lines and spaces are called the staff. (See Diag. 6.) The lines and spaces of the staff are counted upward, that is, the lowest THE STx\FF. .SPACES. line of the staff is called the first line, the one above it the second line, and so on ; the lowest space is called the first space, the next the second space, and so on. (See Diag. 6.) Each line, and each space, is called a degree. Hence, as there are five lines, and four spaces, the staff includes nine degrees. (See Diag. 6.) When it is desirable to extend the notes above or below the staff, short lines, called ledger lines, are employed. (See Diag. 7.) THE STAFF WITH LEDGER LINES. (Diag. 7.) :g=? -9 -~ As the great scale of sounds, which includes all the notes that can be made by instrumental means, is very extensive, it has been found convenient to divide it into two parts, and allot a staff to each part. The notes in the upper division of the great scale are writ- ten on what is called the treble staff; those in the lower division, upon what is denominated the bass staff. To distinguish between the two staffs,* and to determine the names of the graphic notes, and the sounds which they represent, characters called cleffs are placed at the beginning of each staff. The treble cleff is called G, because a particular Treble Cleff. G note is written upon that line of the staff on which -- q 1 the main part of this character is placed. This note, ~/L ■-■- ■ called the G cleff note, occupies that point of pitch G ~ vn) — = \ 5 Rests. Semibreve Rest , Minim Rest. . . . Crotchet Rest r Quaver Rest .... Semiquaver Rest. 1 Demi-Semiquaver Rest, g = 4 = 2 = 1 i — a Hence, a semibreve is equal to two minims ; equal to four crotchets ; equal to eight quavers, *° a minim and a crotchet (Pf*), or to three crotchets (*ff) ; and so on. There are two general modes of time — common and triple. In common time each measure is divisible by 2; in triple time each measure is divisible by 3. There are several varieties of each of these modes of time. When a piece is in common time, and each measure contains two quavers, or their equivalent, the TIME. 65 figures f are prefixed to the words, or the music ; when each measure contains two crotchets, the figures J are prefixed ; and when each measure contains four crotch- ets, a capital C, or the figures % are prefixed. When a piece is in triple time, and each measure contains three quavers, the figures | are prefixed to the words, or the music ; when each measure contains three crotch- ets, the figures \ are prefixed; and when each mea- sure contains six quavers, the figures § are prefixed to the words, or the music. The upper figure, in each of these cases, shows how many notes of a certain descrip- tion there are in each measure ; and the lower figure, how many of these notes are equal in value to a semi- breve. EXAMPLES. Common Time ; two Quavers in a Measure. 2NNNINSIN felfe £ m m \ m * I • 1 • I • *i Oft has it been my lot to mark A proud, con - ceited, talking spark Common Time ; two Crotchets in a Measure. \X IJ J IJI-ln J I l j" IJ J IJ. The curfew tolls — the knell of parting day. Triple time ; three Quavers in a Measure. it 1 x . ft r\ jr \x 1 / ^. s 1 xfi The rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower. MOVEMENT. Movement is the velocity with which a sentence is read or sung, or a strain of instrumental music is played. The rate of movement should be such as the senti- 6* 66 ELOCUTION. merit demands. Solemn discourse requires a slow movement ; simple narrative, a medium rate of utter- ance ; animated description, as well as all language expressive of any sudden passion, as joy, anger, &c, a movement more or less rapid, according to the inten- sity of emotion. In the science of music, various terms have been employed to denote the rate of movement, the principal of which are the following : Adagio, very slow ; the slowest time. Largo, slow time. Larghetto, . . . slow, but not so slow as largo. Andante, medium time. Andantino, . . a little quicker than andante. Allegretto,. . . rather quick, but not so quick as allegro. Allegro, .... quick time. Presto, very quick. Prestissimo., as quick as possible. Adagio, andante and allegro, are the three chief di- visions of time ; the other terms mark the intermediate degrees. In addition to the foregoing terms, which mark the movement, there are others, which indicate the style of performance. Some of these are as follows : Affetuoso, . . affectionate — a soft and delicate style of performance. Brilldnte,. . shining, sparkling — a gay, showy style. Furioso,. . . fierce, mad — a vehement style. Spiritoso,. . spirited — a spirited style. Sometimes these terms are used in connexion with those which express the rate of movement, thus : — Allegro con spirito, quick with spirit — in a quick and spirited manner. The rate of movement is not definitely marked by the terms Adagio, Largo, Larghetto, &c. ; it may, how- ever, be designated with precision by means of the METRONOME OF MAELZEL. This instrument has a graduated pendulum, to which is attached a sliding weight. The higher this weight TIME. 67 is moved upon the pendulum, the Diag. 17. slower are its vibrations ; and the contrary. When the weight cor- responds to the number 50, the vi- brations of the pendulum are the slowest; when it corresponds to 160, they are the quickest. All the numbers on the instrument have reference to a minute of time. Thus, when the weight is placed at 50, fifty beats, or ticks, occur in a minte ; when at 60, sixty beats in a minute ; when at 100, one hundred beats in a minute, &c. The engraving in the margin represents the instrument in action. In reading, as a general rule, the time should be marked on the metronome by whole measures — in other words, each measure should correspond to one tick of the instrument. In music, it is most convenient to mark the time on the metronome in adagios, by quavers ; in andantes, by crotchets ; in allegros, by minims ; and in prestos, by whole measures. EXAMPLES OF THE SEVERAL MOVEMENTS. In the following Examples, the words which indi- cate the movement and the corresponding numbers on the metronome, are both employed. Adagio. Metronome 60 — two beats in a measure. J. 3 I 4 O. | *>. 9> O when shall day J.i XX] liXX\ J. dawn on the night of the grave ! O Largo. Metronome 56 — one beat in a measure. I have J. X ! XXXX I J pass'd a mis-er-a-ble night. 63 ELOCUTION. Larghetto. Metronome 66 — one beat in a measure. ir\ j /■ i sr. j*i j 1 1 j j= j= i thou that rollest a - bove, round as the j J* J* I -T-T shield of my fathers! Andante. Metronome 76 — one beat in a measure. t-TjajaiJ-iJ^IJJ I J.3AI J 1 had a dream which was not all a dream. Andantino. Metronome 100 — one beat in a measure. The tree of deepest root is found 3jr i J" j* i jr *i jr .ft I ir Least willing still to quit the ground. Allegretto. Metronome 112 — one beat in a measure. i rrr i r r , ; j* j* i jr ^ Shivering in thy playful spray. * Note. — The figure 3 over the three quavers which compose the first measure, signifies that they are to be pronounced in the time of two. Allegro con spirito. Metronome 104 — one beat in a measure. And darkness and doubt are now flying a - way. Animato. Metronome 100 — one beat in a measure. I j .ft .ft I J J- 1 jr j: i j i Sylph of the blue and beaming eye ! .ft i r.r. i jtj: i j r i j i The muses' fondest wreaths are thine. PART II GESTURE. ESTURE is the various pos- tures and motions employed in vocal delivery : as the postures and motions of the head, face, shoul- ders, trunk, arms, hands, fingers, lower limbs, and the feet. Graceful and appropriate ges- ture renders vocal delivery far more pleasing and effec- tive. Hence its cultivation is of primary importance to those who are ambitious of accomplishment in Elo- cution. CHAPTER I. POSTURES OF THE BODY. The postures of the body, with respect to vocal delivery, may be divided into favourable and unfavour- able ; and, the better to suit my purpose in giving their illustration, I shall first treat of the unfavourable. The most unfavourable posture is the horizontal. If a reader or a speaker should lie prone, or supine, he would not be likely to deliver a discourse with energy and effect. I have never known an orator to deliver a discourse in the horizontal posture ; but I have known individuals to speak in public in postures almost as in- appropriate. As impressions communicated through the medium of the eye, are the most lasting, two series of figures are (69) 70 ELOCUTION here introduced, the former of which are unfavourable, and the latter favourable, to vocal delivery. POSTURES UNFAVOURABLE TO VOCAL DELIVERY. GESTURE, 71 POSTURES FAVOURABLE TO VOCAL DELIVERY. DEMONSTRATING ON THE BLACK-BOARD. Absurd as are the unfavourable postures on page 70, I have known readers to adopt not only all these, but others equally inappropriate and ridiculous. This is too much the case, particularly in seminaries for young 72 ELOCUTION. gentlemen, in a number of which it has fallen to my lot to give instruction in Elocution. The human mind is so constituted, that, in its edu- cation, order becomes almost indispensable. Hence, any thing that interrupts methodical instruction, is a serious obstacle to the growth of intellect. Nor is order more necessary than perseverance ; consequently all postures of the body which are calculated for re- pose, should be avoided by the student in elocution. And as grace and dignity are of primary importance in vocal delivery, all postures which are inconsistent with these attributes should also be avoided. The erect posture of the body is the best for vocal delivery ; the trunk and limbs should be braced in pro- portion to the degree of energy required by the senti- ments to be delivered. The right foot should be from two to four inches in advance of the left, and the toes turned a little outwards ; meanwhile the body should be principally sustained by the left foot. The next best is the erect sitting posture, in which the shoulders do not rest against the back of the seat, and in which the body is retained in its proper posi- tion by muscular action. (See Ornamental Letter, page 11 and 16.) The next best is the erect sitting posture in which the shoulders rest against the back of the seat. These are the only postures which are at all favour- able to vocal delivery. MANNER OP HOLDING THE BOOK. The book should be held in the left hand, from six to eight inches from the body, and as high as the centre of the breast, so as to bring the face nearly perpendi- cular. It should not, however, be held so high as to prevent the audience from having a view of the reader's mouth, as his voice would thereby be more or less ob- structed. The fingers of the right hand may take hold of the margin of the book lightly (see Fig. 10, and Orna- GESTURE. 73 mental Letter, page 16), so as to be ready to turn over the leaves, as occasion may require ; or they may be placed upon the page, just below the line the reader is pronounc- ing, to aid him in keeping his place ; or, particularly if the reader is pronouncing an original composition, the right hand may be employed to illustrate and en- force the sentiments by appropriate gesticulation. (See Fig. 11.) If the reader be a lady, the right hand may support the left arm. (See Fig. 12.) I do not, how- ever, advise ladies to adopt this posture exclusively, but deem it not ungraceful for them. The eyes should occasionally be directed from the words of the discourse to the audience. (See Fig. 11.) In demonstrating on the black-board, the face, and not the back, should be turned to the audience. (See Fig. 13 and 14.) CHAPTER II. NOTATION OF GESTURE. The want of a language for expressing the different modifications of gesture with brevity and perspicuity, is the principal cause of the general neglect with which the cultivation of this art has hitherto been treated. For this desideratum the world is indebted to the Rev. Gilbert Austin, of London. In 1806, this distinguished elocutionist published a quarto volume of six hundred pages ; and from that work I have taken the system of notation of which the following is a specimen : When the right arm is elevated backwards, and the left extended forwards, in a horizontal direction, he calls the posture of the former elevated backwards, and notes it eb ; and the posture of the latter, horizontal forwards, and notes it hf Now the abbreviations eb ^ and hf are placed over any word which requires these postures of the arms, thus : — 7 74 ELOCUTION. eb — hf Jehovah's arm Snatch'd from the waves, and brings to me my son !* Douglas, Act III For an illustration of these gestures, the reader is referred to the ornamental letter on page 69. The original idea of this system of notation, says Mr. Austin, was suggested by the labour of teaching decla- mation in the usual manner. During this labour, which for many years constituted a part of his duty in his grammar-school, the author having often found that he forgot, on a following day, his own mode of instructing on a former, wished to be able to invent some perma- nent marks, in order to establish more uniformity in his instructions, for the ease both of himself and of his pupils. The mode of instruction is not so liable to change, with respect to the expression of the voice, and countenance, for this is always pointed out by the sen- timent. But the great difficulty lies in ascertaining and marking the suitable gesture ; and for these ob- vious reasons ; because a language of gesture was want- ing, and because gesture may be infinitely varied, and yet, perhaps, be equally just. To leave the pupil to choose for himself would but distract him, and, instead of giving him freedom and grace, would deprive him of both. On his commencement as a public speaker (which cannot be too early), it is necessary to teach him every thing, and to regulate, by rules, every pos- sible circumstance in his delivery ; his articulation, accent, emphasis, pauses, &c, and along with all, his gesture. After sufficient instruction and practice, he will regulate his own manner, according to the sugges- tions of his judgment and taste. Among the higher objects of this system of notation, may be reckoned its uses as a record, whence the his- * Although an explanation of the gestures on Jehovah's arm, in the above sentence, is sufficient to answer my present purpose, it may not be improper to inform the reader that another gesture is required on the word son. GESTURE. 75 torical painter may derive the materials of truth, and whence the orator and the elocutionist may not only obtain the instructions of the great men who have pre- ceded them in the same career, but by which also they may secure, unalterably, their own improvements for the advancement of their art, and for the benefit of posterity. A scene of Shakspeare, or a passage of Mil- ton, so noted, after the manner of a great master of recitation, or an oration so noted as delivered by an admired speaker, would prove an enduring study of truth and nature combined with imagination. And the aspiring orator would not be obliged, as at present, to invent for himself an entire system of action. He might derive light from the burning lamps of the dead, and proceed at once, by their guidance, towards the highest honours of his profession. Had the ancients possessed the art of notating their delivery, such was the unwearied diligence of their great orators, Demosthenes and Cicero, that we should, most probably, at this day, be in possession of their manner of delivery, as well as the matter of their ora- tions ; and not be limited to conjecture relative to a single sentence of these eminent speakers, on the great occasions which called forth their powers. 76 ELOCUTION. CHAPTER III. POSITION OF THE FEET AND LOWER LIMBS. The parts of the human figure which are brought into action, in gesture, cannot, in truth, be considered separate ; for every muscle, over which men can exer- cise voluntary action, contributes, in some measure, to the perfection of gesture. For, convenience, however, we may enumerate and class the most distinguished parts of the body, which effect the principal gestures. These are : 1 . The Head. 5. The Hands and Fingers. 2. The Shoulders. 6. The Lower Limbs and 3. The Trunk. Knees. 4. The Arms. 7. The Feet. I shall begin, as it were, with the foundation of the building, and shall first consider the positions and motions of the feet and lower limbs ; since without the stability and ease of these, neither grace nor dignity can consist in the standing figure. As the object of the orator is to persuade, and as prejudice against his person or manners may greatly impede him, he must recommend himself by every at- tention to his external deportment which may be deemed correct and proper ; and guard against every species of inelegance that may prove disadvantageous. He must, therefore, even in his posture as he stands, prefer manly dignity and grace to awkward rusticity and rude strength. Rude strength may suit him who wishes to terrify, or to insult ; but this is rarely the purpose of a public speaker. Grace and decorum win favour; and this is the general object. Rude strength stands indeed with stability, but without grace. The gracefulness of motion in the human form, or perhaps in any other, consists in the facility and secu- GESTURE. 77 rity with which it is executed. And the grace of any postures (except such as are manifestly designed for repose), consists in the apparent facility with which they can be varied. Hence, in the standing figure, the posture is graceful when the weight of the body is principally supported by one limb, whilst the other is so placed as to be ready to relieve it promptly, and without effort. And as the limbs are formed for a mutual share of labour and of honour, so their alterna- tion in posture, and in motion, is agreeable and grace- ful. The body must then be supported, if grace be con- sulted, on either limb, like Apollo, Antinous, and other beautiful and well-executed statues. The positions of the feet are expressed by the nota- tion annexed, which is to be written under the word where the speaker is to assume such position. They are the following : First Position of the Right Foot, noted R. 1. (See Fig. 15). The upper part of the figure represents the eleva- tion of the position ; the lower, the plan. In this position the right foot (advanced before the left about the breadth of the foot), forms, with the left, an angle of about seventy-five degrees, as may be seen in the plan. The lines which form this angle, passing through the length of each foot, meet its vertex under the heel of the left. The principal weight of the body is sustained by the left foot ; the right rests lightly, but in its whole length, upon the floor. This fact is shown in the plan by deeply shading the left foot, and lightly shading the right. 7* 78 ELOCUTION. Second Position of the Right Foot, noted R. 2. (See Fig. 1 6.) In this position, the right foot sliding forward about half its length, receives the principal weight of the body, the left being raised, and turning as far inwards towards the right ; the ball of the left great toe only lightly touching the floor, to keep the body from tot- tering. In the plan, the right foot, by which the weight of the body is principally sustained, is all shaded, while that part only of the left is 16 shaded which rests upon the floor. The angle formed by lines drawn through the length of the feet, in this position, is about ninety degrees. In this position, when the feet are near together, the entire sole of the left foot may lightly touch the floor ; but when the feet are separated about their own length, or more, the left should touch only near the great toe ; the knee should be bent, and the heel turned inward, as in Fig. 24 and 26. First Position of the Left Foot, noted L. 1. (See Fig. 17). This position of the left foot is, in all respects, analogous to the first fc position of the right. The left foot is advanced, and the body is princi- pally supported by the right. The shading of the plan is similar to that in the first position of the right, and for the same purposes. The first position of the right foot is the proper reading position, when no gesture is employed ; but it should be occasionally alternated with the first position of the left, for the relief of the supporting muscles. GESTURE 79 Second Position of the Left Foot, noted L. 2. (See Fig. 18). This position of the left foot is, in all respects, analogous to the second / / / / position of the right; and, in the y / figure, it is represented in the same manner, only reversed. Figure 19 is a better plan of the feet than that annexed to the eleva- tions. In both positions the right foot advances about half its own length, as may be seen by comparing it with the equidistant parallel lines. In the first posi- tion of the right foot, the lines ff, ff passing through the centre of the feet, s make an angle of j- about seventy-five de- grees ; and in the se- cond position, the lines SS make an an- gle of about ninety degrees. These an- gles are nearly bi- sected by the line H \l|fif\"Y\t - "'*'"' EE, which goes to \ ^^k \ \ \ L the eye of the person addressed. In the first position, the lines ~ c,f q, x, b<* annexed 19 to the dotted prints of both the feet, mark the manner in which they are shifted, without altering their own angle, according as the gesture is directed. In the plan the gesture is supposed to be directed forwards. This figure may be supposed to be reversed for the first and the second position of the left foot. The first position of either foot, but particularly that * These are notation letters, which will be explained in their place. 80 ELOCUTION. of the right (because the more graceful), is the proper reading position. It is also the proper rising position of the orator. But should he stretch forth his arms towards the audience, when he begins to speak, he should take the second position. Besides the four positions above mentioned, there are two others, which may be called positions in front. The heels are placed nearly together, and the body is supported, alternately, on the right and left foot, whilst the toes of the other lightly touch the floor. The angle formed by the feet, in these positions, is somewhat greater than a right angle. In other respects they are similar to the ordinary positions. The right po- sition in front, noted R. F., is when the body is sup- ported on the left foot. The left position in front, noted L. F., is when the body is supported on the right foot. The position in front is used when persons are addressed alternately, on either side, whilst the audi- tors are in front, as on the stage. It is not graceful, and should not often be used ; it is too stiff and formal, like the military figure, and presents the body with too much uniformity and flatness.* * This appears to be the petition condemned by Quintilian : The swing of those who balance their body to the right side and left, upon the alternate feet, is very ungraceful." GESTURE. 81 Connected with these positions which express the moderate state of the feet, are marked the same posi- tions in the extended state. (Fig. 20.) These differ from the moderate, principally, in the greater separa- tion of the feet. The second position extended, en- larges the angle a few degrees by drawing up the heel of the retired foot. (See Fig. 46 and 89.) The first extended position is made when a person retires in any degree of alarm; and the second, when he advances with boldness. (See Fig. 106 and 108.) An x is added to the notation to express the extended position, thus ; R. 1. x; R. 2. x; &c. The contracted position may be easily understood by supposing the heels to be brought close together. A c is added to the notation, to express the contracted position, thus : R. 1. c. The attitude of the orator should not be like that of the affected dancing-master, which is adapted to spring- ing agility and conceited display. The orator should adopt such attitudes and positions only as consist with manly simplicity and grace. The toes should be turned, not inwards, like those of the awkward rustic, but moderately outwards ; and the limbs should be so dis- posed as to support the body with ease, and to change with facility. The sustaining foot should be planted firmly; the leg braced, but not contracted; and the knee straightened (contraction suits the spring neces- sary for the dancer, and bent knees belong to feeble- ness, or timidity) ; the other foot and limb should press lightly, and be held relaxed, so as to be ready for im- mediate change and action, except in very energetic delivery, where both limbs should be braced. The trunk of the body should be well balanced, and sus- tained erect upon the supporting limb, except in such instances as particularly require its inclination, as veneration, supplication, &c. The orator should face his audience. Whatever his position may be, he should present himself, as Quintilian expresses, cequo pcctore (Fig. 13), and never in the fencer's attitude. 82 ELOCUTION. In changing the positions of the feet, the motions should be made with the utmost simplicity, and free from the parade and sweep of dancing. All changes, except where particular energy requires the speaker to stamp, start back, or advance with marked decision, should be made almost imperceptibly. The changes should not be too frequent : frequent change gives the idea of anxiety and instability, which are unfavourable to an orator. The several acts resulting from the changes in the positions of the feet, are, advancing (noted a) ; re- tiring (r) ; travelling (tr.) ; starting (s. or st.) ; stamp- ing (sp.),&LC. If more steps than one are to be expressed (as in the business of the theatre) the number may be introduced in a parenthesis, after the letter marking the step, and then the position follows which finishes the movement ; thus, a (2) R. 2, means, advance two steps to the se- cond position of the right foot. In private declama- tions, or recitations on a platform, or rostrum, these figures are not necessary, as a single step, in advancing or retiring, is sufficient.* Changes of position, or steps, are considered to be made only by the foot on which the body is not sup- ported, for that alone is free. Should it be required to move the foot which supports the body (suppose the left, in the first position of the right, Fig. 15), two mo- w ■ — * I have frequently seen college students take three steps to the right, then three to the left, then three again to the right, and so on, till they had changed their position fifteen times during the de livery of a discourse which did not occupy them more than ten minutes. And I have known a clergyman to traverse the whole length of his pulpit twenty-three times during the delivery of a ser- mon. Such erratic movements in a public speaker are undigni- fied : they betray a want of judgment, and are exceedingly annoy- ing to an audience. An orator should "keep in his place:" he should perform all the movements of his feet within the limits of thirty-six inches square, and not be continually running about the room as if labouring under the effects of nitrous oxide. GESTURE. 83 c.TU rX.i tions are necessary ; in the first the position must be changed to R. 2. (Fig. 16), so as to throw the weight of the body on the nght foot, then the left may be moved as required. According to this principle, it will be found that from each original a.R.2 position four steps ^ / may be made. (See V<^ Fig. 21 and 22.) The plan of the steps, in the origi- nal position, is in ^\f the centre, and drawn larger ; the plan of the steps, made from that ori- ginal position, is re- presented smaller. The line of motions of the feet, is repre- 21 sented by a line of dots, nearly of the same form which each foot should trace ; the line of the free, or first- moving foot, is marked with a star. In the figures, it will be observed, that from each position four steps may be made — the speaker may advance, retire, tra- verse, and cross. In advancing and tra- versing, each step finishes on the second position of the ad- vancing foot ; and, in retiring from the first position, the step finishes on the first position of the con- trary foot ; but, in retiring from the se- cond position, it fin- x.k.i ishes on the first 22 Ir.R.i ■ R.z C Jl.1 64 ELOCUTION position of the same foot. In crossing from the first position, the free foot passes before the other, and finishes on the second position ; but, in crossing from the second position, it passes behind the planted foot, and finishes on the first position. The steps from the two positions of the left foot are similar to those of the right, and do not require to be explained by another figure. CHAPTER IV. THE POSITIONS, MOTIONS, AND ELEVATIONS OF THE ARMS. Fig. 23 represents a person standing with his arms hanging unconstrained. Now, if from this position the arm be raised as high as it can be, as in Fig. 24, the extremity of the fingers will describe, in the vertical direction, a semicircle, which, in the figure, is marked at five points, R, d y h, e, Z, at intervals of for- ty-five degrees. If, in the trans- verse direction, the arm be ex- tended across the body, as far as convenience will permit, and then swept hori- zontally round, and outwards, the extremity of the fingers will describe a semi- circle, which, in Fig. 25, is also marked at five points, c, /, q, x, b, at intervals of forty- GESTURE P5 five degrees.* Upon these principles is built the present sys tem of gesture, which is exemplified in the following diagram : Fig. 26 is a sphere, consisting of the pri- mary circle, Z e h d R d h e Z, the right circle, Z/R (crossing the primary at right angles), the two ob- ■^^ \ \c\ ---A-fi / i I i 1 t 1 j I j / / / / f \ \ \ \ h LM tM 4_ f \ , i J V i f \ - \ / / ^V^ \ V" y' j >s ^iss 26 E * The eye of the spectator is supposed to be above this figure. 8 86 ELOCUTION. lique circ]es,Z&R * The letters, nef bn, signify, natural elevated forwards bending shf st, supine horizontal forwards striking. j- The letters, vhfrt, signify, vertical horizontal forward retract Lag.; vhfrj, vertical horizontal forwards rejecting. vhfrt — vhfrj — I hate the drum's discordant sound. f- 116 ELOCUTION. ohc i rj Who's here so base that would be a bondman?* — Shaks. Another example of a previous contracted gesture : Bvhfrt To hear the roar she sends through all her gates. — Cowp. In the passage from Cowper, the suspending, or previous gesture, Bvhfrj, contains all the letters belonging to the subsequent em- phatic gesture, except the last (p). This new letter, only, is ex- pressed, and is joined by a long dash, or mark of connexion, with the notation letters of the preceding gesture : another line of con- nexion, joining this letter to x, signifies that both hands continuing in the same position, viz. vertical, the arms are to be extended. The gestures, marked at large on this line, would be as follows : Bvhfrt BvJifp Bvhx To hear the roar she sends through all her gates.-j- But the former method is preferable, as it abridges the trouble ol notation, and is equally intelligible. The connexion of gesture is, therefore, the relation which one gesture bears to another ; and it is shown by the notation of the circumstances in which they agree, and of those in which they differ. Thus, the gestures noted in the foregoing line agree, first, in being common to both hands (B), and then in the posi- tion of each hand, v (vertical), and also in the elevation of both arms, h (horizontal). So that it is unnecessary to repeat those circumstances in which they agree, as the connecting-dash expresses them with sufficient clearness, and with greater brevity. The connexion of gesture in the vertical direction, when the hand, without altering its posture, merely ascends by short intervals, in order to mark a succes- sion of discriminating gestures, is noted by the usual connecting-dash, and an a over the word where the hand ascends. * The letters, ohc, signify, the hand outwards, the arm hori- zontal across ; x rj, extended rejecting. f Bvhfrt, both hands vertical, both arms horizontal forwards re- tracting ; Bvhfp, both hands vertical, both arms horizontal forwards pushing ; Bvhx, both hands vertical, both arms horizontal extended. GESTURE. 117 I mourn the pride -nef — shfst — And avarice that make man a wolf to man. — Cowper. But this passage would perhaps answer better with the auxiliary gesture, thus : Bphf a vef — I mourn the pride — vef _ Bnef bn — Bshf st R And avarice that make man a wolf to man.* The transition of gesture relates to the manner of arriving at a gesture, and to the changes of gesture ; and signifies either the particular changes of the posi- tion of the hand and arm, or the general change of the principal gesture from one hand to the other. A gesture may have a very different character and effect, according to the manner in which the hand ar- rives at its destined point. It may ascend, descend, move towards the right, or towards the left, and may also make the stroke with various degrees of energy, and in various ways ; and these motions constitute, in each, an absolutely different gesture, though, after the moment of the stroke, which a painter might choose to represent, the hand and arm of each should be in the same precise position. (Fig. 85, p. 100.) As, however, the emphatic gestures are liable to ambiguity, on ac- count of the various transitions which might be sup- posed to bring them to their stroke, painters more fre- quently choose to represent the suspending gestures, which give an idea of action, and greater interest to their principal figures. But the transition of gesture particularly relates to the change of the principal gesture from one hand to * Bphf a, both hands prone horizontal forwards ascending 1 ; vef (followed by a dash), right hand vertical elevated forwards ; vef (preceded by a dash), left hand vertical elevated forwards; Brief bn, both hands natural elevated forwards bending; Bshfst, both hands supine horizontal forwards striking. 118 ELOCUTION. the other ; which may be regulated, in some measure, according to the following principles. So long as there subsists a strict connexion between the sentiments, un- interrupted by any considerable pause, or change of persons, no transition can take place in this last sense: the same hand which began, continues to perform the principal gesture. And the variety which it is always desirable to produce, must not be attempted by the change of the principal gesture : it must arise alone from the graceful and well-regulated action of the ad- vanced hand, supported by the combined assistance or accompaniment of the other. If the passage to be pro- nounced be of considerable length, the right hand should perform the principal gesture throughout the whole of it. For the left, though allowed to take its place oc- casionally, according to certain rules, by no means arrives at an eo x uality of honour. The right hand always continues the better hand, both from long pre- scription, and the ability arising from use. In the narrative parts of an oration, where different persons or things are to be described as variously dis- posed, or in the recitation of descriptive poetry, when a picture, as it were, is to be represented by the speaker, consisting of many natural objects in different parts of a landscape, of which Gray's Elegy in a Country Church-yard will afford many examples, the right hand having first pointed out those persons or objects sup- posed to lie adjacent to itself, may yield to the left the arrangement and ordering of those other parts, which may be imagined to be at its own side. This inter- change, judiciously regulated, produces a pleasing va- riety in the gesture ; and if the speaker possess the imagination of a painter, his disposition and colouring will produce the most distinct and vivid picture. Variety, which is a most important object to be kept in view by a public speaker, allows, with advantage, an interchange of the principal gesture, even when the subject may be of a more abstruse and demonstrative GESTURE. 119 nature. When there is any opposition, or antithesis, among the ideas, or even in the structure of sentences, or where a new argument is introduced, after the dis- cussion of a former is ended, as at. a new division, or a new paragraph, there may be a change of the principal gesture. But it will be a point of judgment and taste in the speaker not to carry this balancing, or alterna- tion of gesture, to an affected extreme, and not, even in allowable cases, to indulge in it overmuch ; nor will he prolong too far the principal action permitted to the left hand, which he will always remember is the weaker, and admitted into the foremost place rather by courtesy than of right ; and which he will, therefore, restrict with discretion in the exercise of this occasional dis- tinction. In the changes made from one hand to the other, the transition should be managed with ease and simplicity. As soon as the advanced hand has made the stroke of its last emphatic gesture, it should fall quietly to rest, whilst, at the same time, the hand which is, in its turn, to assume the principal action, commences its prepara- tion for the ensuing gesture. It will be observed that a commencing, or discriminating gesture, should be gentle, as a modest beginning suits its first entrance into authority. An emphatic gesture immediately after one from the other hand, would be violent and out- rageous ; something like the gesticulations of those little wooden figures set up to frighten birds from corn, or fruit, which have the arms fixed on an axis in such a manner that they are alternately raised and depressed with equal vehemence, according as they are blown about by the wind. When the orator finds it necessary to change the position of the feet, so as to advance that which was before retired, the general rule is that he should effect it imperceptibly, and not commence the change till after the hand has begun its change of action. Some- times, however, in vehement passages, the orator is 120 ELOCUTION. allowed, by the highest authority, to advance suddenly, and even to stamp. The subordinate gesture, already mentioned, as performed by the retired hand, will be found to bear a close analogy to accompani- ment in music. A little observation will suffice for acquiring a general knowledge of the accompaniment of gesture; and after attentively practising for some time, the inferior hand will as easily fall into a suitable accompaniment of the principal gesture, as the left hand of a performer on a keyed instrument, will strike correctly the fundamental bass. The general rule for accompaniment of gesture, in calm and moderate speaking, when both hands do not perform the same gesture, is that the retired arm should be about one interval less raised than the advanced arm, and that in the transverse position it should be distant from it about two intervals, or a right angle. Hence, if the right hand should perform the principal gesture, and this gesture should be supine elevated for- wards, the accompaniment would be expressed in the second set of letters, for the left hand, thus : -J-. — - — , prin. ac. (Fig. 38); and again, vh f~ P dx , (Fig. 33). When the prin. ac. force of the expression is strong, the accompanying hand is equally elevated with the principal. In this degree of force, the gestures are thus : vhf — vhx. These circumstances afford convenient opportunities for abridging the notation. When both hands perform the same, or nearly the same gesture, a capital B pre- ceding one set of letters suffices for both hands, as Bvhf And when the accompanying gesture follows the gene- ral rule, and has nothing remarkable distinguishing it, the gesture of the principal hand only need be noted; the accompaniment is easily understood, and will fol- low of course to the well-practised speaker. But besides the motions of the subordinate gesture, other very important accompaniments are to be at- tended to; as those of the lower limbs, of the body, and of the head : otherwise the performance will be G E S T U R E 121 rigid and absurd, like that of a puppet. Indeed, not only those more prominent and distinguished parts must accompany the voice and principal action of the speaker, but every muscle of the body, and every ex- pression of the countenance, must join in harmony with those gestures, in order to impress upon them the cha- racter of nature and truth. There is no gesture, or change of gesture, which is not meant to enforce or to illustrate some new circumstance, w T hich either calls into action muscles before at rest, or into a change of action those already in exertion. And this impression and influence extend not only to those muscles which are most strong and distinguished, but even to the most delicate fibres of the human frame, such as those which adjust the expression of the mouth, of the nostrils, of the brows, and of that wonderful organ the eye. An example may here be given of some of the stronger changes of the head, body, and lower limbs, which ac- company certain principal gestures. If the right hand be forcibly withdrawn, and presented vhfc (vertical horizontal forwards contracted), the left vdqc (vertical downwards oblique contracted), the feet will naturally retire, and be rRlx (retire to the first position extended of the right foot). The body, at the same time, will be thrown backwards, whilst the whole countenance will express aversion, or horror. (Fig. 95). The gesture of the right, phf ad, will be accompanied and noted thus : F — - — s — t—H which signifies that aR2 ° the head, and consequently the body, leans forwards, and that the eyes are turned earnestly in the same direction. This evident desire of inspect- ing the object more nearly, is also accompanied by an advanced step of the right foot, the principal gesture 11 122 ELOCUTION being performed by the right hand. As the gesture of the left hand could hardly be avoided, under the circumstances mentioned, the notation of it might have been omitted. It will be observed, that if the hand, in its gestures, at any time approach the head, the head bends to- wards the hand ; and if the hand presents its palm, and pushes, as it were, an ob- ject away in disgust, the head accompanies the action, not only by retiring back, but by averting the face. And the motions ex- pressing this aversion are ; first, the eye, directed to- wards the object ; the approaching of the back of the hand towards the face, and the head bending towards the hand, and then the pushing forwards of the palm of the hand, and the throwing back of the head, and averting the face at the same time. The notation will stand thus : F vh f c ~~ , (Fig. 96), and then, A ^ P ~ aR2 7-Rlx (Fig. 97). After the stroke of the emphatic gesture, if the speaker has completely closed his remarks on a par- ticular part of his subject, or if he has finished his ora- tion, both hands should fall to rest, in a manner suiting the last expressions which he has delivered. This falling of the hand to rest is named the close and ter- mination of gesture. It is contrary to the correct sim- plicity of gesture to mark a single word or idea with GESTURE. 123 more than one emphatic stroke ; any appendix of ges- ture, after this, would only weaken its force, or render it ridiculous. The termination of gesture, or rather, the emphatic gesture which terminates, should not be made across. It is generally made about the horizontal elevation, but sometimes it is made downwards, or elevated, according to the sentiment. The horizontal termination suits decision and instruction ; the downward, disapproba- tion and condemnation ; the elevated, pride, high pas- sion and devotion. CHAPTER X. THE FREQUENCY, MODERATION, AND INTERMISSION OP GESTURE. As gesture is used for the illustration or enforce- ment of language, it should be limited, in its applica- tion, to such words and passages only as admit, or rather require, such illustration or enforcement. That is, gesture should not be used by a public speaker on every word where it is possible to apply it without manifest impropriety ; but it should rather be reserved for such passages as require to be rendered more pro- minent than the others, and to be more highly coloured. A judicious speaker will therefore reserve his gesture, at least the force and ornament of it, for those parts of his discourse for which he also reserves the brilliancy of language and thought. Sometimes, the absolute intermission of gesture is advantageous, as in the com- mencement or opening of arguments. When an argu- ment is nearly concluded, moderate gesture will give it more force, and relieve the monotony of a mere dry demonstration, should the spirit of the composition admit such addition. In all discourses, the frequency of gesture will be 124 ELOCUTION. determined, in genera], by the number, the novelty, and the discrimination of ideas. In every well-constructed sentence, some new idea is advanced, which may be marked by a suitable gesture; and possibly the various limitations and modifications of it will also admit of a similar distinction. Thus each separate clause, or member of a sentence, may admit a distinct gesture on the principal word ; and as each epithet is a distinct quality, added to the principal name, and as each ad- verb has the same effect on the principal action ex- pressed by the verb, a new gesture may be made on each. But for this purpose, unless the word is empha- tic, a turn of the hand, a small motion in the trans- verse or vertical direction, or a slight inclination of the head, is sufficient. In a sentence where every word is emphatic, each may be marked with a gesture. Sentences of this kind generally condense, in a small compass, valuable infor- mation, and should therefore be strongly enforced and marked with precision. They should, however, be delivered distinctly and deliberately, or the gestures will confuse the sentiment, and even cast a degree of ridicule upon it, as may be found by pronouncing the following serious observation with different degrees of rapidity. shf— nef— shfst — Man is born to trouble. com. susp. emph. <$• ter. Neither the emphatic gesture, nor the force of the voice, always falls on those words which are the prin- cipal, in a grammatical sense — the nouns and verbs. The gesture sometimes falls on the word which modi- fies each — on the adjective., which expresses the quality of the noun, or on the adverb, which has a similar effect upon the action or assertion of the verb. The same notation, applied to a vehement passage, requires the arm to be raised higher lhan when it is applied to one of the contrary character. A judicious GESTURE. 125 speaker will often omit his gesture altogether, and use it only when absolutely necessary to illustrate, or to enforce his sentiments. Gesture may be said to hold the place of high seasoning; it must, therefore, be managed with discretion, lest it should defeat its own purposes, and create disgust. If a speaker proves truly eloquent, he is sure of the most liberal and solid approbation. But he should not hazard too much ; he should be guarded in the commencement of his dis- course, and should restrain his gesture in the calm and reasoning passages, reserving its force and brilliancy for the appropriate expression of his most earnest feel- ings and boldest thoughts. His transitions from the narrative parts to those which are most highly wrought, and which require his utmost exertions, should be gra- dual and just, and free from extravagance. CHAPTER XI. THE QUALITIES OF GESTURE, AND THE GESTURE SUITED TO DIFFERENT MODES OF PUBLIC SPEAKING. The different qualities which constitute the perfec- tion of gesture, and their opposite imperfections, are as follows : 1. Magnificence. 2. Boldness. 5. 6. Simplicity. Grace. 3. Energy. 4. Variety. 7. 8. Propriety. Precision. 1. Magnificence of gesture. This is effected by de- taching the elbow completely from the body, and unfolding the whole oratorical weapon. In magnifi- cent gesture, the action is flowing and unconstrained ; the preparations are made in graceful curves ; the transitions are easy, and the accompaniments, in all respects, illustrative of the principal action. The mo- ll* 126 ELOCUTION. tions of the head are free, and the inflections of the body manly and dignified. The action of the lower limbs is decisive, and a considerable space is traversed with firmness and with force. The opposite imperfections are short and constrained gestures, rigidity of the joints, and stiffness of the body, with short steps, and doubtful or timid movements. 2. Boldness of gesture. This arises from that ele- vated courage and self-confidence which ventures to hazard any action, however unusual, which is produc- tive of a grand or striking effect. In this sort of ges- ture, unexpected positions, elevations and transitions, surprise at once by their novelty and grace, and thus illustrate or enforce the ideas of the speaker with irre- sistible effect. The opposite imperfection is tameness. 3. Energy of gesture. This consists in the firmness and decision of the whole action ; and in the precision of the stroke of the gesture, which aids the emphasis of the voice. The opposite imperfections are feebleness and inde- cision. 4. Variety of gesture. This consists in the applica- tion of different, but appropriate gestures, to the same, or analogous sentiments, so as to avoid recurring too frequently to one favourite gesture, or set of gestures. The opposite imperfection is monotony of gesture, analogous to that of the voice. 5. Simplicity of gesture. This is such a character of gesture as appears the natural result of the situation and sentiments ; which is neither carried beyond the just extent of the feeling, through affectation of variety, nor falls short of it through want of confidence. The opposite imperfection is affectation. 6. Grace of gesture. This is the result of all other perfections, arising from a dignified self-possession of mind, and the power of personal exertion, practised into facility after the best models, and according to GESTURE. 127 true taste. To the more particular investigation of this quality a Chapter is devoted. The opposite imperfection is awkwardness. 7. Propriety of gesture, called also truth of gesture, or natural gesture. This consists in the judicious use of gestures best suited to illustrate or to express the sentiment. Propriety of gesture is generally founded on some natural connexion between the sentiment and the action. Significant gestures are strictly connected with the sentiment. The opposite imperfections are false, contradictory, or unsuitable gestures. 8. Precision, or correctness of gesture. This arises from the just preparation, the due force, and the cor- rect timing of the action : when the preparation is nei- ther too much abridged, nor too pompously displayed ; when the stroke of the gesture is made with such a degree of force as suits the character of the sentiment ; and when it is correctly marked on the precise syllable to be enforced. Precision of gesture gives the same effect to action, as neatness of articulation gives to speech. The opposite imperfections are the indecision, un- certainty, and incorrectness arising from vague and sawing gestures, which, far from illustrating, render doubtful the sense of the sentiments which they accom- pany, and distract the spectator. There are three general modes of public speaking, each of which requires a different style of gesture ; namely, 1. The Epic. 3, The Colloquial. 2. The Rhetorical. 1. Epic gesture demands every natural and acquired power, on the part of the speaker : to it belong Magni- ficence, Boldness, Energy, Variety, Simplicity, Grace, Propriety, and Precision. The compositions which require epic gesture, in delivery, are tragedy, epic poetry, lyric odes, and sublime description. 128 ELOCUTION. 2. Rhetorical gesture requires, principally, Energy, Variety, Simplicity, and Precision. Grace is desirable ; Magnificence is rarely wanting, but may sometimes have place. Propriety, in a limited sense, should be observed. Boldness is inadmissible ; because the ora- tor is not, like the player, subjected to any unexpected circumstances. He is not, therefore, at liberty to ex- press surprise, or any other passion, by bold gestures or attitudes. 3. Colloquial gesture, when concerned in the higher scenes of polite life, requires, principally, Simplicity and Grace ; Precision will follow of course ; it may oc- casionally demand something of Energy and Variety ; Magnificence and Boldness are inadmissible. The gesture of the public speaker must vary con- siderably with the different circumstances of his situa- tion, of his sentiments, and of his audience. If the mere information or instruction of his audience be his sole object, as when the evidences of religion and the grounds of Christian duties are to be explained from the pulpit, or when the details of calculation and finance are to be laid before Congress, or when facts are weighed and laws are argued in the courts of justice, his gestures should be of that class which is called dis- criminating gestures. These he should exercise with simplicity and precision. He should strip them of all the parade of preparation, and of the graces of transi- tion, and give them only that degree of variety which shall guard them against disgusting sameness. This is far removed from theatrical gesture ; it rather ap- proaches the colloquial style. Nothing could be more incongruous than for a public speaker, in either of the foregoing situations, to introduce the parade and mag- nificence of theatrical gesture. The charge which is sometimes made against public speakers, of being thea- trical in their gesture, probably arises more from some unsuitableness in their manner to the matter, than from any thing of uncommon majesty, boldness, or grace in their action. GESTURE. 129 When the public speaker aims at persuasion, as in discourses from the pulpit for public charities, or on extraordinary occasions in Congress, or at the bar, when the advocate desires to influence the opinions of a jury, he will naturally use more graceful, more flow- ing, and more varied gesture. But he should not fall into the action of the theatre. He may be graceful, but he should be simple ; he may be energetic, but he should not affect gestures too strongly significant, much less attempt surprise by attitudes. All his gestures should be regulated by manly decorum, suitable to his situation, to the character of his hearers, and to the just expression of his sentiments. CHAPTER XII. SIGNIFICANT GESTURES. The most important of the significant gestures are the following : The Head and Face. The hanging down of the head denotes shame, or grief. The holding of it up, pride or courage. To nod forwards implies assent. To toss the head back, dissent. The inclination of the head implies diffidence or lan- guor. The head is averted, in dislike or horror. It leans forward, in attention. The Eyes. The eyes are raised, in prayer. They weep, in sorrow. They burn, in anger. They are downcast or averted, in shame or grief, 130 ELOCUTION. They are cast on vacancy, in thought. They are cast in various directions, in doubt and anxiety. The Arms. The placing of the hand on the head, indicates pain or distress. On the eyes, shame or sorrow. On the lips, an injunction of silence. On the breast, an appeal to conscience. The hand is waved, or flourished, in joy or contempt. Both hands are held supine, or they are applied, or clasped, in prayer. Both are held prone, in blessing. They are clasped, or wrung, in affliction. They are held forward, and received, in friendship. The Body. The body, held erect, indicates steadiness and courage. Thrown back, pride. Stooping forward, condescension or compassion. Bending, reverence or respect. Prostration, the utmost humility or abasement. The Lower Limbs. The firm position of the lower limbs signifies courage, or obstinacy. Bended knees indicate timidity, or weakness. The lower limbs advance, in desire or courage. They retire, in aversion or fear. Start, in terror. Stamp, in authority or anger. Kneel, in submission and prayer. These are a few of the simple gestures which may be termed significant. GESTURE. 131 CHAPTER XIII. GRACE. " Grace," says lord Kames, " may be defined, that agreeable appearance which arises from elegance of motion, and from a countenance expressive of dignity. Expressions of other mental qualities are not essential to that appearance, but they heighten it greatly." The gracefulness of rhetorical action depends partly on the person, and partly on the mind. Some are so happily formed that all their motions are graceful ;* and some minds are so noble, that they impart genu- ine grace to the most uncouth forms : both these cases, however, are comparatively rare. Grace, like the ideal beauty of the painter, and of the sculptor, is not commonly to be found in the indi- vidual living model, but to be collected from the various excellencies of the many. Neither true grace, nor consummate eloquence, can be acquired by those who are totally deficient in natu- ral qualifications ; yet they to whom nature has not denied some portion or talents, may improve in both, precisely in proportion to the degree of their application. The grace of oratorical action consists, chiefly, in the facility, the freedom, the variety, and the simplicity of those gestures which illustrate the discourse. Action, to be graceful, should be performed with facility ; because the appearance of great effort is in- compatible with ease, which is a constituent of grace. It should also be performed with freedom : no gestures can be graceful which are either confined by external circumstances, or restrained by the mind. If an orator should address an assembly from a narrow window, it * Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, In every action, dignity and love. — Milton. 132 ELOCUTION. would be in vain for him to attempt graceful gesture. Confinement, in any less degree, is proportionably in- jurious to grace. Thus, the crowded courts, which impede the motions of the advocate, and the enclosed pulpit, which not unfrequently conceals more than half the preacher's figure, are equally injurious to graceful action. Greece, the native soil of manly eloquence and true taste, ivas not the originator of the pulpit. The restraint arising from diffidence is also prejudi- cial to grace. It has, however, this advantage — it may be effectually corrected by perseverance. For the maintenance of grace, in rhetorical action, variety is indispensable. The iteration of the same gesture, or set of gestures, however graceful in them- selves, betrays a poverty of resource which is altoge- ther prejudicial to the speaker. Simplicity and truth of manner, if they do not con- stitute grace in themselves, are inseparable from it. Gestures which are manifestly contrived for the mere display of the person, or for the exhibition of some fop- pery, as, for instance, a fine ring, instantly offend. To simplicity of gesture is opposed affectation, which destroys every pretension to genuine grace. The more showy the gestures are, unless they are adapted to the subject, and to the character of the speaker, the more do they offend the judicious by their manifest affectation. When the profligate speaks of piety, the miser of gene- rosity, the coward of valour, and the corrupt of integ- rity, they are only the more despised by those who know them. The faults of manner are analogous to those of cha- racter, and almost equally disgusting : such as the assumption of dignity where there is none in the senti- ment ; pathos, where there is nothing interesting ; vehe- mence in trifles, and solemnity upon common-place subjects. It is an observation founded in fact, that the action of young children is never deficient in grace ; for which GESTURE. 133 two reasons may be assigned ; first, because they are under no restraint from diffidence, or from any other cause, and therefore use their gestures, with all sin- cerity of heart, only to aid the expression of their thoughts ; and, secondly, because they have few ideas of imitation, and consequently are not deprived of natural grace by affectation, nor perverted by bad models. The grace of action, according to Hogarth, consists in moving the body and limbs in that curve which he calls the line of beauty.* When action is considered independent of language and sentiment, this definition will, perhaps, be found generally correct. Rhetorical action, however, derives its grace, not only from the actual motions of the speaker, but also from the con- gruity of his motions with his own character and situa- tion, as well as with the sentiments which he delivers. The dignity which is a becoming grace in a judge, would be quaint affectation in a young advocate ; and the colloquial, but graceful familiarity of action, even of the most polished society, would be highly indeco- rous in the pulpit. Hence, it must be admitted, ac- cording to the just maxim of Cicero and Quintilian, that decorum constitutes true oratorical grace ; and that this decorum admits of great variety of action, under different circumstances. Vehement action is sometimes both decorous and graceful ; so also are abrupt and short gestures, if they bear the impress of truth and suitableness. Such are the gestures of an old man, when he is irritated. But the most flowing and beau- tiful motions, the grandest preparations, and the finest transitions of gesture, ill applied, and out of time, lose their natural character of grace, and become indeco- rous, ridiculous, or offensive. * See Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty. 12 134 ELOCUTION. CHAPTER XIV. SYNOPTICAL ARRANGEMENT OF THE NOTATION LETTERS. Letters written above the Line, relating to the Fingers, the Hands, and the Arms. First small Letter, Noting the disposition of the Fingers. n, natural. h, holding. c, clinched. w, hollow. x, extended. m, thumb. i, index. g, grasping. /, collected. Noting the Manner of presenting the Palm. p, prone. v, vertical. s, supine. f, forwards. n, inwards. b, backwards, o, outwards. Second small Letter, and two Capitals, Noting the Elevation of the Arms. d, downwards. Z, zenith. h, horizontal. R, rest. e, elevated. Third small Letter, Noting the Posture of the Arms in the Transverse Direction. c, across. x, extended. f, forwards. b, backwards. q, oblique. Fourth and Fifth small Letter, Noting the Force of Motion of the Hands and Arms. x, extreme. c, contracted. m, moderate. Noting the Direction of Motion. a, ascending. r, right. d, descending-. I, left. GESTURE. 135 f, forwards. i, inwards. b, backwards. o, outwards. v, revolving 1 . Noting the Manner of Motion, n, noting-. pr, pressing. p, projecting, or pushing. rt, retracting. w, waving. rj, rejecting 1 . fl, flourish. bn, bending-. sw, sweep. re, recoiling. bk, beckoning. sh, shaking. rp, repressing. th, throwing-. ad, advancing. cl, clinching. sp % springing. II, collecting. st, striking. Capitals, Noting the Posture of the Head, and Direction of the Eyes. I, inclined. F, forwards. E, erect. A, averted. As, assenting. D, downwards. Dn, denying. U, upwards. Sh, shaking. R, around. Ts, tossing. V, vacancy. S, aside. Letters written below the Line, relating to the Feet. Capital Letters and Numerals, Noting the Positions of the Feet. Rl, right foot, 1st position. RF, right front position. R2, right foot, 2d position. LF, left front position. I A, left foot, 1st position. K, kneeling. L2, left foot, 2d position. 8, aside. Small Letters and one Capital, Noting the degree of Extension of the Feet. x, extended. xx, extended extreme. mx, moderately extended. C, contracted. Letters noting Steps, a, advance. s, start. r, retire. sp, stamp. tr, traverse. sk, shock. c, cross. 136 ELOCUTION. Letters relating to Parts on which the Hand may be placed. E, eyes. F, forehead. N, nose. C, chin. L, lips. br, breast. The Manner of combining the Fingers of both Hands is noted by two Small Letters, ap, applied. in, inclosed. Ip, clasped. wr, wringing. cr, crossed. tc, touching. Id, folded. nu, enumerating. The Combinations of both Arms. en, encumbered. km, kimbo, pd, reposed. (either one or both). A capital B, preceding, and joined to a set of small let- ters, signifies that both Hands, or both Arms, perform the same Gesture. B, both hands, or both arms. Significant Gestures and Expressions of Countenance, may be noted in the margin, after the manner of Mr. Sheridan. Ap, At, appealing, attention. Av, aversion, Cm, commanding. Vn, veneration. Ad, admiration. Ls, Lm, listening, lamentation. Hr, horror. Gr, grief. Dp, Pr, Sh, deprecation. pride. shame. Fr, fear. En, encouraging ; and many others at pleasure. CHAPTER XV. APPLICATION OF THE NOTATION LETTERS. The most complicated gestures are those which relate to the combined postures and motions of the hands and arms; yet these are expressed with suffi- cient accuracy by four, or fewer, notation letters for GESTURE. 137 each movement. For this purpose they are divided into four classes ; the notation letters of each always preserve their own place, as to priority, or succession, and derive their signification from it. The first four, or the first three letters, taken together, are called a set of letters. In a set, as phfd, or seq n, The first letter relates to the posture of the hand. The second, to the elevation of the arm. The third, to the transverse situation of the arm. The fourth, to the motion, or force of the gesture.* Thus, phfd is to be read, prone horizontal forward descending. Prone, is the posture of the hand ; hori- zontal, is the elevation of the arm ; forward, is the pos- ture of the arm in the transverse direction ; and de- scending, means that the arm descends from a higher elevation. The set, seq n, is read supine elevated oblique noting. Supine, the posture of the hand ; elevated, the arm, as to elevation ; oblique, the arm in the transverse direction ; noting, the action of the hand and arm. As both hands and both arms are equally capable of executing any gesture, the letters, and sets of letters, relate to both indifferently. But they are thus distin- guished : when there are two sets of small letters, the first set denotes the gesture of the right hand and arm ; the second, those of the left. The two sets are sepa- rated by a short dash, thus : phq — pdb, prone horizon- tal oblique, the right hand ; and prone downwards back- wards, the left. When only a single set of three, four, or five small letters is marked, the gesture of one hand only is ex- pressed ; that of the other is presumed to be easily supplied, according to the rules of accompaniment. A short dash always accompanies a single set of small letters — when the dash follows the letters, they denote the gesture of the right hand ; when the dash precedes the letters, they denote the gesture of the left hand. * This last letter is often omitted. 12* 138 ELOCUTION. When a set of small letters is preceded by a capital B, the gesture which they represent is to be performed by both hands. When a long dash follows the small letters, connect- ing them with other small letters, or with a single one, farther on, a change of gesture is marked, which is to take place on the word over which such letter or let- ters are placed ; and the commencement and termina- tion of the dash mark the commencement and termina- tion of the gesture. When a set of small letters, having a dash, is con- nected by a line of dots with another set of small letters, having a contrary dash, the gesture made by the first hand is to be followed and supported by another ges- ture made by the other hand, which is to take place where the second set of letters is marked. This is called alternate gesture, and noted al. In order to prevent, confusion, the postures of the head, and the direction of the eyes, are indicated by capital letters near the beginning of the sentence, or at some distance from the letters relating to the hands and arms. The letters which mark the positions of the feet, and the steps, are placed below the line, and under the word where they should take place. THE MISER AND PLUTUS. (GAY.) R BvJifr q peg n—pdq 1.2. The wind was high — | the window shakes ; | aR2 veq c — vhx c 3. With sudden start the miser wakes ! | sRlx F pdc ad phq — 4. Along the silent room he stalks ; I aR2 B vhx — vhqc Bohftr 5. 6. Looks back, I and trembles as he walks ! | sRU GESTURE. 139 v hq — — rkx 7. Each lock, and ev'ry bolt he tries, I shq o — — she i 8. In ev'ry creek, and corner, pries ; | aR2 Bpdq 9. Then opes his chest with treasure stor'd, [ D Bseq 10. And stands in rapture o'er his hoard : I R2, Bvhfc 11. But now with sudden qualms, possest, | Idhf ; a . Idbr 12. He wrings his hands ; he beats his breast — | g br — — veq 13. By conscience stung he wildly stares; | Bshf sh 14. And thus his guilty soul declares : Bsdf d n 15. Had the deep earth her stores confin'd, | br—R 16. This heart had known sweet peace of mind; | vhf—vhz U Bscfsp- 17.18. But virtue's sold! | Good gods! what price | am F—R 9. Can recompense the pangs of vice ? | D Bsdf d n 20. O bane of good ! seducing cheat ! rRi Bvhf vef slif st — sdq 21.22. Can man, weak man, [ thy power defeat? | seb sic — sdq 23. Gold banish'd honour from the mind, | rLl br- R 24. And only left the name behind; I Bphc 25. Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill ; 140 ELOCUTION. ccb sh — cdq 26. Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill : | Liz shf sh — sdq 27. 'T was gold instructed coward hearts | aB2x Bvhfrj 28. In treach'ry's more pernicious arts. | rRl seq — sdq 29. Who can recount the mischiefs o'er? | Bpdf d 30. Virtue resides on earth no more ! | TF *JP Vl- Vp Tt" tP Remarks on the Notation of the Miser and Plutus. For the convenience of reference, the piece is divided into sec- tions, by vertical bars, and the number of each section is printed in the margin. (1.) The direction of motion, expressed by the 4th small letter, r, means that from the position in which both hands are presented, vhf they should move towards the right, and stop at the position, oblique, as noted by q, connected by a dash to the position mentioned. (2.) The 4th small letter, n, signifies noting. (12.) The posture of the hands is, at first, folded horizontal for- wards, as expressed in the notation, Id hf At the a, connected by a dash, which signifies ascending, the hands are raised up, and at the next notation, Id br, they are forcibly withdrawn back on the breast. (21.) This posture begins horizontal, as first noted, Bvhf, and ends elevated, B vef; but the B is omitted over the word, weak, being understood by the connecting dash. (25.) The 3d small letter, relating to the transverse direction of the arm, is often placed alone, but connected by a dash with a pre- ceding set of letters, as already observed. (1.) In such case it is to be understood that the posture of the hands remains as before, and that the transverse direction of the arm only is changed. Here each arm passes through the whole semicircle, from the position across to extended: The fourth, and the fifth small letter, which relates to the direc- tion and manner of motion, are also often separated, in this manner, from the position to which they belong, in order that the place of the motion, or action, may be the more distinctly marked. (See 9, GESTURE. 141 15 and 20, in which n is thus separated, to point out the particular syllable on which the action of noting falls ) The action of the hands and arms, at No. 15 and 20, is the same, but the general effect is different, in consequence of the difference in the positions of the feet. In the preparation for these gestures, the palms of both hands are raised so as almost to touch the fore- head ; then they descend gradually, and when the arms are a little below the horizontal elevation, the wrists make that particular motion called noting, on the respective words, stores and cheat. (26.) Left foot first position extended. To make this position extended, the left foot is advanced, the body at the same time is thrown back, and sinks a little, bending the right knee. (28.) This gesture, Bvhf rj, both vertical horizontal forwards rejecting, is thus made : both hands are drawn backwards, nearly to the mouth, in the vertical position ; the eyes, at this time, are directed forwards, the hands are then pushed forwards, while the face is averted, and the feet retire, to a greater or less extent, in proportion to the degree of disgust or abhorrence to be expressed. AN ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH- YARD. (gray.) I. Ls veq — vhx a ■ Bpef d The curfew tolls — the knell of parting day ! aR2 F phf— ... q x The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ; rR\ Vhf- The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, V Bnef d BR And leaves the world to darkness, and to me. ii. Bphc Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, Bvef And all the air a solemn stillness holds iec q Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, vefrt pfyfp— R And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: am 142 ELOCUTION. in. — icq n Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower 81 — veq U — scb The moping owl does to the moon complain rJA - shq Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign. IV. shf n — .... — shf n Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade, Bbdf a vhf Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, Bncf sp Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, F Bphf d BR The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. v. shf — veq to — The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, rR\ icq The swallow, twitt'ring from the straw-built shed, idq — veq to — The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, a B n ef sp B sdfd No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. VI. shf - For them no more the blazing hearth shall bun, rRl vhf - Or busy housewife ply her evening care, Bsl>fp Nor children run to lisp their sire's return, aR2 Bvcfa D F B shf n Or climb his knees, the envied kiss to share. rRl GESTURE. 143 VII. phc Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield; sdfst — Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; sec sw ; phq sp How jocund did they drive their team afield ! ceb bn chf st How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! VIII. ief ihf n — Let not ambition mock their useful toil, rIA pef pdf d — Their homely joys, and destiny obscure : Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, rRl vef- The short, and simple annals of the poor. IX. vef sp — ief ft — The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, aR2 Bshf p q And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, B vhq sh Await, alike, the inevitable hour — rRl vef a d sdq n R The paths of glory lead but to the grave. aR2 X. Bphc q a shfn — Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, rIA veq w If mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise, L2 vhfp — sec q Where, thro' the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault, a — B nef a d BR The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 144 ELOCUTION. XI. ihf — — vhq n Can storied urn, or animated bust, BL tc Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? — veq d sdf — R Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, aR2 Bshfsh a vef vdfp Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death? XII idf Perhaps in this neglected spot, is laid rR\ br — R veq w — Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; B nef B shfst Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, pec sw veq sw Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre. XIII. skfd- But knowledge to their eyes her ample page, phc Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Bvhf rt ■ Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, B vhq c B nhfp B br And froze the genial current of the soul. XIV. ihf- Full many a gem of purest ray serene, Bpdfd- The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ; aR2 shq p Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen, phc And waste its sweetness on the desert air. GESTURE. 145 XV. vcf— ( br—R Some village Hampden that, with dauntless breast ihf — veq w The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; a B vef d B sdf Some mute, inglorious Milton, here may rest ; aB2 B vhf rt p A B vhc x Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. rRl XVI. Bshfp The applause of listening senates to command, l>hfp a a vef — rj The threats of pain and ruin to despise, Bphc q — Bvhx sp To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, B she g x And read their history in a nation's eyes, XVII. pkf st — R phc Their lot forbade — nor circumscrib'd alone B vhf rt Their growing virtues ; but, their crimes confin'd, B bdfad vhf- Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, B vhfp a d BR And shut the gates of mercy on mankind. Remarks on the Notation of Gray's Elegy. (Stanza I.) First Line. Ls, listening. (See complex signifi- cant gestures.) The small a, over knell, is connected with the set of letters, B pef, over parting ; and the small d, over day, is also connected with the same set. Each is considered a fourth small letter, separated from its set ; a denotes the preparation, and d, the termination of the motion of the gesture. Second line. The set of letters, phd, relates to the right hand, which finishes its action at x, and falls slowly to rest. Third line. Here the left han4 13 146 ELOCUTION. takes up the principal gesture. This is called alternate gesture. Both hands unite their action on weary. Fourth Line. V, the eyes bent on vacancy. (Stanza II.) The several gestures which are connected toge- ther by long dashes, are to be considered as the flowing variation of continued motion, till either one, or both hands fall to rest. Ges- tures, thus connected, maybe called continuous; they are gene- rally of that kind which are styled discriminating gestures. First line. The posture, Bphc, on fades, is the preparation for sweep- ing round the horizon. Whilst the hands are proceeding to the position, Bphc, the head and eyes should turn towards either ex- treme ; and whilst the arms are moving from this to the different positions, q and x, the head and eyes should move to the other ex- treme. In cases where the right hand performs the principal ac- tion, the head should follow its motion ; in other words, it should turn from left to right, and vice versa. Third line. The left hand drops here, and the index-finger of the right hand is prepared to point across. The eye should follow the object at which the finger seems to point, as at a flying beetle. (Stanza III.) In order to vary the gestures, and the Setter to distribute the objects in the picture, the tower is supposed to be placed on the left side, and the left hand assumes the principal ges- ture ; this is indicated, in the notation, by the short dash which precedes the set of letters. Fourth line. " Ancient, solitary." Nouns, or, substantives, may be considered as the outlines, or im- ages of things; adjectives, as the colouring, or circumstances added to those images, or limitations deducting something from them. In poetical language they are called epithets. Gray has indulged in the use of them, perhaps to a fault. But however that may be, whenever they occur, they almost constantly rob the principal image, or substantive, of its emphatic distinction, and claim it for themselves ; perhaps, because the circumstances alone give individuality to the image, which, in itself, is a general term. For these reasons, the action, or gesture, falls rather on the epithet; and, if two, or more epithets are added to the same image, each should be distinctly marked, both by emphasis and action : if so pronounced, they serve to illustrate the idea; but if they are hurried over, they cause only confusion. Therefore, the words ancient solitary reign, require two gestures, one on each epithet. But, to avoid affectation, the transition should be the easiest possible; and this will be when the gesture on the preceding word is made the preparation for that on the subsequent. When two epithets are applied to a name, the latter should be the stronger; and in this view, also, it is proper to reserve the emphatic gesture for it, as the principal. (Stanza IV.) First line. On elms, the right hand again re- sumes the principal gesture. It is here alternate, or auxiliary, as appears from the dotted line of connexion. Second line. On heaves GESTURE. 147 the backs of the hands are presented forwards, the hands hanging down, and in the action they ascend gradually towards vertical eleva- ted, on the word mouldering. Third line. " Each in his narrow cell for ever laid ;" the arms gradually ascend to the highest point, on the word ever, and then, in the same manner, descend, to rest on the word sleep, making, in their progress, a momentary arrest on the word forefathers. It seems to be an incongruity to raise the arms, in speaking of the grave, which is below ; but this is removed by the downward inclination of the head, and look of the eyes, as noted ; and it is not uncommon to elevate the arms in looking into any thing dreadful below. This is also the preparation for the following gesture, which requires the arms to fall to rest. From the third line to the end of the stanza the gestures are continuous. (Stanza V.) First line. On breathing the graceful wave is marked. The wave may be considered of three kinds, the graceful, the wave of triumph (which, in a less degree, is also the wave of joy), and the wave of scorn, or contempt. The subject will always sufficiently determine the character to be adopted, though the no- tation is the same for all. Second line. On swallow, the index is raised, to point out the object; on twittering it ascends to the high- est point in the range of gesture, or is retracted, so as almost to touch the head, and then on the word straw-built it makes the ac- tion of noting. Third line. The joyful wave, approaching to tri- umph, should be made on echoing ; the voice should here mark the crescendo, which will be contrasted with the gravity of the follow- ing line. Fourth line. In order to perform the action of springing, indicated by sp, the arms begin to ascend from more, and having arrived at the word rouse, the wrists make on it the stroke of the gesture by springing suddenly into the elevated position. (Stanza VI.) Fourth line. The gesture on climb is a suspend- ing gesture, preparatory to that on kiss. The eyes look downwards on climb, and forwards on kiss. The ends of the fingers approach the mouth a little on kiss, after which the hands are advanced su- pine noting. (Stanza VII.) Second line. The preparation for the gesture on stubborn is neq rt, and would fall on oft, but is here omitted as taking place, of course, when the gesture marked on stubborn is executed. It will be observed that several emphatic gestures im- ply a proper suspending, or preparatory gesture, and reciprocally, the latter the former. Thus, when a stroke is required to be made, the arm must, of course, be raised; therefore, shf st must necessa- rily imply nefbn, inwards elevated forwards bending ; veq w im- plies, bhfa, backwards horizontal forwards ascending ; end vhxrj, implies, vhx rt, vertical horizontal extended retracting. In the notation, the preparatory gestures are often omitted, when they are not required to make a preceding less emphatic word ; in which case they are prepared with less decision, and their stroke is soft- 148 ELOCUTION. ened. When the suspending 1 , or preparatory gesture is used as the principal, as in terror, where the arms are retracted violently, and in surprise, where they are elevated forcibly, the subsequent ges- ture is also softened ; and the emphasis of its stroke is remitted. Fourth line. Should woods not be pronounced with a strong em- phasis, the notation over this word might be omitted. (Stanza VIII.) The first gesture in each of the first three lines of this stanza, is a preparatory gesture, of the decisive kind, and the last, in each, emphatic. As all the words which are noted are important, each requires the enforcement of gesture; and the connexion of suspending, or preparatory and emphatic gestures, renders the transitions easy and unaffected. Second line. The noun, destiny, being here placed before its adjective, or epithet, may obtain both the emphasis and action ; they might, also, be re- served for the epithet obscure. Fourth line. " Short and simple ;" the first epithet is distinguished by a slight discriminating gesture, produced by a small change in the elevation of the arm and hand, marked a. This is made the commencement of the gesture vef, which is completed by a suspending gesture on simple, and which descends to rest on the word poor, with an emphatic and terminat- ing gesture. (Stanza IX.) First line. The flourish is marked on power. The flourish, as expressed in Fig. 88, is performed principally by the wrist. In order to perform this action, the hand, with the in- dex-finger, is dropped down a little above the head, nearly at right angles with the fore-arm, and is then thrown forcibly upwards, and sweeps round as marked by the line of dots in the figure. To ad- vance boldly, indicates confidence, pride, &c. ; to advance slowly, implies solemnity, grief, resignation, &c. The notation is the same, in each case, as the sentiments sufficiently show in what manner the speaker should advance. Of the former (bold advance), an in- stance is observed on the word power, in this line; of the latter (slow advance), an instance is seen on the word grave, in the last line. Third line. The shake, sh, is marked on inevitable. It should not comprise many tremulous motions, lest it appear ridicu- lous ; it is sufficient that the hand move twice suddenly backwards and forwards. Fourthline. The gestures in this line are continu- ous. The first, on paths, is a discriminating gesture, leading to the suspending gesture, on glory. The gesture on lead, is the pre- paration for that which descends to the word grave, on which falls the emphatic and terminating gesture. The advance, noted in this line, aR2, for the step, combines with the descending arms, and aids in looking down with resignation. But it might be rRl, or rL\, which would express terror, or alarm. / prefer aR2. (Stanza XL) Second line. From back, both hands (the palms inwards), move inwards, so that at mansion they nearly touch the GESTURE. 149 lips, as noted ; they then move outwards to the position oblique, on the word fleeting. (Stanza Xll.) Third line. There is a suspending gesture on hands, which is the preparation for the subsequent gesture. It might have been omitted, as it is obviously implied, were it not thought proper to mark the word hands with some force ; and, in this way, it obtains the distinction of gesture without extravagance or unnecessary waste of gesture. Were this preparatory gesture not marked, the hands would ascend, by a uniform motion, to rod, then make the stroke on empire, which would be feeble, and, if noted at large, would be thus : a B shfst Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd. Fourth line. The double sweep is here performed — first inwards, on ecstasy, and then outwards, on lyre. (Stanza XIII.) The gesture on penury is a suspending one ; its fourth and its fifth letter, rp, which express the manner of mo- tion, being separated, in order to place them over their proper syl- lable. The notation, at large, would be as follows : Bvhfrt Bvhfrp Chill penury repressed, &c. The first retracting, the last repressing ; this, however, is under- stood from the nature of the emphatic gesture. Fourth line. The fourth small letter, c, over froze, signifies contracted. The gesture on current serves as a preparation for placing the hands on the breast. This gesture, Bnhfp, begins on genial, and the arms are stretched out, with some force, on current. (Stanza XIV.) Third line. On the word flower, shfrt might be placed, as the preparation for the gesture on blush; but as the word does not require a strong emphasis, the notation is omitted; however, the gesture is implied. (See remarks on Stanza VII.) (Stanza XV.) Fourth line. When from the transverse posi- tion, c, the arms move directly to x, without noting the interme- diate position, q, as here, on country's blood, the motion is under- stood to be rapid, and decisive, expressing vehemence or horror. (Stanza XVI.) Second line. The gestures necessary to be marked, on this line, are four, of which the second, on pain, and the third, on ruin, are made by the momentary arrest of the hand, in its ascent to vef, on the first syllable of despise ; rj, rejecting, on the last syllable, finishes the whole with the emphatic stroke. Thus sufficient discrimination is made, without falling into quaint- ness of gesture, or affectation. These small discriminating ges- tures, produced by a slight arrest of motion, and often by merely changing the posture of the hand, are more frequent, and more im- portant to the orator, than the more showy gestures, and should be particularly attended to. 13* 150 ELOCUTION. (Stanza XVII.) The last two lines have each a series of con- tinuous gestures. From the preceding analysis and notation, it will be observed that the discriminating gestures are principally requisite for the recit- ing of this poem. The suspending and the emphatic are frequent ; but the last seldom require to be strongly marked, as the general character of the sentiments is calm and tender. Of significant gestures there are very few. The first, marked Ls, listening, over curfew, is of this class, and perhaps a few others may also be reckoned to belong to it, as when the hand is laid on the breast ; but there are not many more. As these gestures may be varied, it may be said, infinitely, so there can be no fixed standard, as to the manner of delivering this, or any other poem, or oration, which should be considered exclusively appropriate. The sentiments require, indeed, to be delivered with suitable tones of voice, and expression of countenance ; but great variety of gesture may be consistent with propriety, provided gene- ral rules are not violated : as, that decorum and simplicity be ob- served ; that the transitions, connexions, the time of the gesture, and precision in the stroke, be attended to, and other obvious precau- tions, of general import, already sufficiently detailed. The notation will accommodate itself to every variety in the speaker's manner ; and this must prove a recommendation to its use. THE SPEECH OF BRUTUS ON THE DEATH OF CAESAR. (SHAKSPEARE.) B shfp q vex sp B nef Romans, countrymen, and lovers ! hear me for aR2 rRl B shfst pef — phx phfst — R my cause ; and be silent that you may hear. B shfp br — R br pr — veqsp Believe me for mine honour; and have respect unto aR2 B shf n D B pef mine honour that you may believe. Censure me B nhx Bvefsp in your wisdom ; and awake your senses that you rRl B shf n B she x may the better judge. If thero be any in this aR2 sdf d vefsp — assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I GESTURE. 151 br- R say that Brutus' love to Caesar, was no less than rRl shf st ief - his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose B shfp ■ against Caesar, this is my answer: not that I loved nef — shfst — B veq w Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had shfp — peg sp — phfst — you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, rLl B shf st Bnhx than that Caesar were dead, and live all freemen? aR2 sef — jE — R veqw — As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was for- rlA br — veq — vhq B sdf d tunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honour cef — chf st — D him ; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There L2 aR2 Btief shf d Ubr—R veqw— D Bpef are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour rRl B veq sp — ceb — chf sh — BR shf for his valour, and death for his ambition. Who's rLl x rj pef- here so base that would be a bondman? If any, aR2 pdfst— ihfrc R — speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so rRl phc x shf n rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; vefsp — B vhfp for him have I offended. Who 's here so vile that rLl B veq w B shfn Jl will not love his country ? If any, speak ; for 152 ELOCUTION. Bohfsh ^ BR vcq w — him have I offended. I pause for a reply. None ! she sio Then none have I offended. I have done no more aR2 shfn— vef — br — R to Caesar, than you should do to Brutus. The ihf n — a ieb n question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; phfd his glory not extenuated wherein he was worthy ; ihf — vef sp nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered phfst— B —ihh she— F shc—shb death. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark rRl n shf—R Antony, who, though he had no hand in his death, nef — shf n — shall receive the benefit of his dying, — a place in B she q z the commonwealth ; as which of you shall not ? aR2 B vef BR eef — With this, I depart : that, as I slew my best rRl rL\ Bshfn ehfsh — lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger br st— R a B pef for myself, when it shall please my country to — d B R st need my death. rRl Remarks on the Nutation of the Speech of JBrutus. I have introduced this speech, and noted it, for the purpose of showing- that the gestures necessary for delivering it in the true spirit, are principally the suspending and the emphatic. These are suited to the vehemence of the speaker's manner, which seeks no ornament, but hastens to produce the main impression on his hearers, by the most direct method. An inspection of the notation will make this evident; for, even though the reader may wish to alter many GESTURE. 153 particular gestures which are here noted, he must change them for others of the same nature, if he would preserve the character of the speech. The suspending and the emphatic gestures must still abound, and he will find little opportunity for introducing the other descriptions, which are, in general, too tame for the abrupt and ve- hement style of this speech. " Be silent that you may hear.'''' On these words I have marked the gesture for the left hand, as well as that for the ri^ht, and also on the words, "have respect unto mine honour.'''' This last is an auxiliary gesture, but of the vehement kind. The exordium of this singular oration ends at " better judge ;" after which, the arms should fall to rest, and there should be a considerable pause. An- other division, which may be called the proposition, takes place at " live all freemen " another, the narration, at " death for his am- bition " and that which may be called the pathetic, or appeal to the passions, finishes at " I pause for a reply." The argument, or reasoning, ends at " suffered death ;" and the peroration follows. " I weep for him." This is noted E — R, the right hand on the eyes, the left at rest. " Him have I offended " noted on " him," ihf re, recoiling. In this action the finger is pointed suddenly, and scornfully ; then im- mediately withdrawn. Frequent changes in the positions of the feet indicate anxiety ; they are, therefore, noted, in this speech. "His body, mourned;" auxiliary gesture. When the right hand is brought up on " mourned," both hands become supine ; and, on the next words, " by Mark Antony," they make the action of noting. At "Here comes," noted B, the speaker looks back; at "Mark Antony," noted jP, he looks forward to those whom he ad- dresses. It would be tedious to point out all the suspending ges- tures, succeeded immediately by the emphatic, for they abound. In all the antitheses, which are numerous, the suspending will be found over the first member, and the emphatic over the last. EXTRACT FROM YOUNGS NIGHT THOUGHTS. U vefn F Bnef The bell strikes one. We take no note of time aK2 rRl Bshfst U icf— But from its loss : to give it then a tongue shf n— V B yhq Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, U br — R ihf — I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright 154 ELOCUTION ief idq R at It is the knell of my departed hours. R B vhc q rt B vhfp Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. V ieq — phfst — It is the signal that demands despatch: B phfx B vhq How much is to be done ! My hopes, and fears Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge aR2 B phfst Brief sp Look down — on what? A fathomless abyss, rRl B vefp a B R at A dread eternity ! how surely mine vef — br. . And can eternity belong to me, — vef ^ Bnef— BR Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour ? U nef c — F skf st — A ohc — vhfc F Bveqw How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, B vhc x How complicate, how wonderful is man ! U a B vefsp d BR How passing wonder he who made him such! B tc br B nkx sp Who center'd in our make such strange extremes ! B vhc q From different natures, marvellously mix'd, B nef rt pefp ■ Connexion exquisite of distant worlds ! shfp a nefsp Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain ! idfn iZ — Midway from nothing to the Deity ! U shf- _ vhf vef A beam ether ial, sullied, and absorpt ! d phfst a vefsp — vhx Though sullied, and dishonour'd, still divine ! GESTURE. 155 vhfc — U veqw — Dim miniature of greatness absolute! B ncf d Bsdfn An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! FBphf U Bveqsp D idf — Uveqw — Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! idfn— U vefsp B shf sh A worm ! a God ! I tremble at myself, V Bbr vef — br And in myself am lost. At home, a stranger, U Fst — R V vefsp— — vhxsp Thought wanders up and down, surpris'd, aghast, Bvhfsh And wond'ring at her own. How reason reels ! vef c — phfn — br — R O what a miracle to man is man, Bvefw BR vefsp— vhfsh-- Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy ! what dread ! B shf p B vhf rt Alternately transported, and alarm'd ! rR\ B br B vhc x What can preserve my life? or what destroy? nefsp — d pdfn An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave , B veq w B nef B sdfst Legions of angels can't confine me there. Remarks on the Extract from Young's Night-Thoughts. The peculiarities of Young's style, especially in his Night- Thoughts, render his poetry particularly difficult for recitation. His use of epithets is faulty to excess. He heaps them profusely, and in every manner, on the principal idea. Man is here his sub- ject, which he colours with every variety of tint, exhibits in every light, and touches and re-touches almost to disgust. And yet he has here produced many sublime images; and his very faults, his labour, his antitheses and his catachreses,* are the source of his beauties. This passage is particularly difficult to recite. The dif- * Catachresis, a figure of speech by which one word is abusively put for another. 156 ELOCUTION. ficulty arises chiefly from the multiplicity of the images, and the brevity of the expression ; consequently, if the speaker is not care- ful to pronounce every line with due deliberation, his gesture makes confusion only, and gives an air of mummery to his recitation. This condensation of images occurs in almost every line ; but the twenty-sixth line, which consists of only four words, is remarkable. " Helpless immortal ! insect infinite !" To give force and variety, and, at the same time, simplicity and gracefulness to gestures so heaped on each other, is attended with no inconsiderable difficulty. But even should the speaker's manner, in the recitation of these lines, prove unexceptionable in this re- spect, the difficulty is but half conquered. They do not, indeed, require any considerable variety of voice; but the eye and the coun- tenance of the speaker must be full of expression and intelligence: he must appear to be rapt in meditation, which rises into sublimity as it proceeds, and inflames, as it catches the rapid succession of thought. On these accounts, this passage is seldom recited suc- cessfully. After what has been said in the analysis of the other pieces, a few observations will suffice for this. Line 4, "aright," continuous gesture to the end of the 5th line, where the hand falls to rest with some degree of force, noted R st, rest, striking. The hand, generally, in falling to rest, drops quietly and imperceptibly by its own gravity, and it is then noted with a simple R; but sometimes the hand is struck down forcibly, and then it is noted, as above, R st. Line 8. " How much ;" the x, in the fourth place, means that the arms are to be extended forwards eagerly. Line 14, 15, 16, six epithets, antithesis, and a climax: the voice and gesture must increase in energy, and on "fte," in the 16th line, complete the climax. The first, in each pair of gestures, is pre- paratory to the subsequent, in the antithesis. Line 23 to 25. Antitheses and catachreses heaped on each other, each requiring a separate gesture, strongly contrasted with that to which it is opposed. Line 29. F st, the hand striking the forehead. GENERAL REMARKS. In order to render every circumstance perfectly intelligible, I have marked with the notation letters the gestures in the preceding ex- amples more minutely than is necessary for general use. For gene- ral use, it is sufficient to note the most important circumstances, leaving the filling up to the judgment of the speaker. GESTURE. 157 In the recitation of descriptions of any kind, the speaker must, in imagination, have the picture before his eyes, and each object must be disposed in the same order as if actually painted. If this imagi- nary picture be faulty in the composition, confused, or ill-grouped, the gesture will perplex, rather than enlighten ; but, if well con- ceived, and well disposed in its parts, the speaker will seem to give it the interest of life by his skilful gesture and recitation ; and the auditor will almost imagine that he actually contemplates all that the speaker describes. Impassioned compositions, delivered with proper feeling and ex- pression, open, in like manner, to the view of the hearer, the inter- nal operations of the speaker's mind, — a contemplation still more interesting than any scenes of external nature which can be pre- sented in description. As, in writing, even an appropriate term must not be used too frequently, so in this art, the same gesture, however expressive, must not be too often repeated. Variety is graceful, and requires that similar gestures, as well as similar words, should be separated by those which are diverse. In oratorical action, it is a general rule that each new idea requires a new gesture. But important ideas, only, require distinguished gesture. For these last, therefore, should be reserved the species of gestures named emphatic ; for the former (which are the most nu- merous), the discriminating will be sufficient. As to frequency, the propriety of gesture will be found to depend on the deliberation and expression of the speaker. If the feelings are not alive, and if the lines are not pronounced with due deliberation, the gestures will appear to be too numerous. In the preceding examples they may seem to have this fault, from the circumstance that it is my object to exhibit at large the greater part of their minute connexions and transitions. A little attention, however, will show, that much, still, has been left to be supplied by the judgment of the reader. The notation, and the analytical observations on the foregoing pieces, will, it is conceived, afford sufficient information to such as may desire to assist their rhetorical studies by this system. I would not recommend that the young speaker, in using this notation, should mark every possible passage in his discourse, in the manner of these examples; for such minuteness would lead to embarrassment, un- less preceded by much labour. The utmost advisable notation should not exceed a few marks on particular passages, and those separated from each other; the filling up of which should be trusted to the feelings of the moment. But the best method, in all re- spects, for acquiring a finished rhetorical delivery, is the private practice of declamation, which is supported on the authority of the great masters and models of oratory, Demosthenes and Cicero. The aspiring rhetorical student should select one or more celebrated orations, couched in the style that he wishes to adopt; these he 14 158 ELOCUTION. should carefully subject to all the rules of notation ; he should study them, and commit them to memory ; he will exercise on them all the powers of his voice, his countenance and gesture ; and, like De- mosthenes, consult his mirror, and obtain the opinion of a judicious friend on his performances. The knowledge and facility, which, by repeated exercises of this kind, he will acquire in rhetorical delivery, may be transferred, with advantage, to his own composi- tions which are to be delivered in public; and, without hazarding the inconveniences of particular notation, he will find himself pos- sessed of such a store of various, forcible, and expressive action, that, whatever his feelings shall suggest at the moment, he will be able to execute in a satisfactory manner. GESTURE. 159 QUESTIONS TO BE ANSWERED BY THE PUPIL. ELOCUTION. Page 15. What is Elocution ? What does Elocution comprise ? What does the science of Elocution embrace] What does the art of Elocution embrace ? How is Elocution divided I What is Vo- cal Gymnastics ? What is Gesture ? How is Vocal Gymnastics subdivided ? ARTICULATION. Page 16. What is Articulation? What is Pitch? What is Force ? What is Time 1 Can the elements of vocal language be formed separately ? What is good articulation ? What advantage results from good articulation? Page 17. Can one be a good reader, or speaker, whose articu- lation is imperfect? What is the condition of the organs of articu- lation in those who have never been in the practice of pronounc- ing their words distinctly ? What is the best method for rendering the muscles of articulation obedient to the commands of the will? Page 18. What are the elements of vocal language? What is the number of letters in the English language? What is the number of elements in the English language? Page 19. How are the elements divided ? Describe the vow- els — the subvowels — the aspirates. Pronounce the vowels — the subvowels — the aspirates. Page 20. Why are not C, J, Q, and X, classed with the ele- ments? Page 21. How are the vowels divided ? What is a monothong ? By what letters are the monothongs represented? What is a diph- thong? By what letters are the diphthongs represented? What are the constituents of the diphthongs? What is a triphthong? By what letters are the triphthongs represented ? What are the constituents of the triphthongs? Page 22. Are there any other diphthongs and triphthongs? By what letters are they represented ? Do they increase the num- ber of the elements? Give an analysis of them. What is the condition of the aperture of the mouth, during the utterance of a monothong ? — a diphthong ? — a triphthong ? 160 ELOCUTION. Page 23. Of what does B consist, and how is it formed ? Of what does D consist, and how is it formed ? Page, 24. Describe G. What is L? What is Ml What is N? What is NG? What is R, and how many varieties are there of this element] When should R be trilled, and when made smooth ? Page 25. What is TH, in then, and how is it formed ? What is V, and how is it formed ? Describe W. Describe Y. What kind of a sound is Z, in zone, and how is it formed ? What is Z, in azure, and how is it formed! How is F formed 1 What is H? In how many ways may H be uttered 1 How is K formed ? Page 26. How is P formed? Describe S. Describe SH. How is T formed 1 Describe TH, in thin. What is WH, and what posture of the mouth does it require ? Page 27. Are there any elements that require more than one posture of the mouth? How is a vowel exploded? What advan- tage results from exploding the elements? Page 30. What is defective articulation? Is it common? From what does it arise? Children are apt to say day for gay ; late for cake, &c. — how may these faults be corrected ? Page 31. Some children pronounce John, don ; Charles, tarles, &c. — how may these faults be corrected ? Page 32. Some persons confound V and W — what exercises will be found beneficial in correcting these faults? In correcting errors in articulation, why is it advantageous to practise the exer- cises before a mirror 1 What is lisping ? What is the remedy for lisping ? Page 33. What is stammering? How does the cause operate ? How is stammering cured ? Does every case require the same treatment ? Can any one treat stammering successfully 1 Page 38. What is pitch? There are two divisions of pitch — what are they ? Page 39. What is the Diatonic Scale? What is the order of the scale? What is the octave? Page 40. What is an interval ? What is a discrete interval ? What is a concrete interval? Name the principal intervals. What is the difference between a major third and a minor third ? Page 41. How many sorts of voice do we employ in the ex- pression of our thoughts ? Describe them. What do the Italians mean by the terms voce di petto and voce di testa ? Page 42. Describe the whispering voice. In what respect does the female voice differ from that of the male? Describe the voices of boys. How is the voice divided? What is the orotund voice ? Page 46. To what range of pitch is the speaking voice mostly QUESTIONS. 161 confined, in good elocution 1 There is a very common fault, in re- gard to pitching the voice — what is it? Page 47. What. are inflections 1 How many different inflec- tions are described by writers on Elocution 1 In what respect does a rising inflection differ from a falling inflection ? Page 49. What is the extent of the concrete intervals of the notes of speech ? Do falling inflections traverse the same range of pitch as their corresponding rising inflections'? Page 50. In what other respect do these inflections differ 1 ? Give some account of the circumflexes. Page 51. Why should not a falling inflection be used for the sake of mere variety 1 What should determine the direction of inflections 1 Page 52. What is melody 1 ? How is melody distinguished from harmony"? What is notation'? W 7 hat is intonation? On what is melody founded 1 Page 53. In what respect does the melody of speech differ from that of song 1 Is it necessary, for practical purposes, to present every syllable in speech under its proper note, as is done in song 1 ? Page 54. What is an emphasis melody? Describe the staff of speech. Give an example of emphasis melody. What is the pilch- note of speech? Page 55. On which line of the staff is the pitch-note written ? What is the effect of reading altogether in the pitch-note 1 How is the voice properly varied in pitch'? Is the melody of speech con- fined to four degrees of pitch, whose intervals are as determinate as those of the Diatonic Scale 1 Does the melody of speech consist solely of emphasis melodies'? Mention some points in which the graphic notes of song, and those of an emphasis melody, differ. What care is necessary to be taken in reading emphasis melodies 1 Page 56. What is modulation 1 How is modulation effected, and with what is it generally accompanied 1 What is the province of modulation 1 Describe the staff of modulation. Page 57. Give an example of modulation. FORCE. Page 59. What is force 1 How is force divided ? How are the terms high and low, and loud and soft, applied to force 1 By what are the nine degrees of force expressed 1 Page 60. In what way should force be varied 1 What is stress"? What is radical stress 1 ? What is median stress"? Page 61. What is final stress 1 ? What is explosive stress? W T hat is tremour 1 How may tremour be illustrated ] Why is it necessary to pay attention to the subject of force 1 TIME. Page 63. What is time "? How is time, in music, divided ? How does the time of speech differ from that of song 1 14* 162 ELOCUTION. Page 64. What is quantity ? By what characters is quantity represented ? What is their relative value ? W T hat is the effect of a dot, when affixed to a note, or rest ? How many general modes of time are there? How are they distinguished ? Name some of the varieties of the two general modes of time. Page 65. What is movement'? How should the rate of move- ment be regulated ? Page 66. What terms are employed to denote the rate of move- ment] W T hat are the three chief divisions of time ? Name some of the terms which indicate the style of performance. Are not these terms sometimes used in connexion with those which express the movement ? Give an example. Is the rate of movement de- finitely marked by the terms, Adagio, Largo, &c. ? How may it be designated with precision ? Describe the Metronome. Page 67. How should the time be marked on the Metronome, in reading ? How should it be marked in music 1 GESTURE. Page 69. What is gesture? How may the postures of the body, with respect to vocal delivery, be divided ? Describe some of the unfavourable postures. Page 72. What postures are favourable to vocal delivery ? In what manner should the book be held, in reading? Page 73. In demonstrating on the black-board, should the face, or back, be turned towards the audience ? What is the cause of the general neglect with which the cultivation of the art of gesture has hitherto been treated ? To whom is the world indebted for a system of notation of gesture ? Give an example of the notation. Page 74. W r hat suggested the idea of this system of notation ? What may be reckoned among the higher objects of this system of notation ? Page 76. What parts of the body are brought into action, in gesture ? What should be the external deportment of the orator ? In what does the gracefulness of motion, in the human form, consist? Page 77. How should the orator stand, to be graceful ? How are the positions of the feet expressed ? Describe the first position of the right foot. PagelS. Describe the second position of the right foot. What is the first position of the left foot ? Page 79. Describe the second position of the left foot. Which is the proper reading position ? Page 80. Which is the proper rising position of the orator ? Describe the positions in front. Page 81. Describe the positions of the feet in the extended state. Describe the contracted position. What attitudes and po- sitions should the orator adopt ? Page 82. In changing the positions of the feet, how should the QUESTIONS. 163 motions be made ] Why should an orator not change his position frequently] What are the several acts resulting- from the changes in the positions of the feet, and how are they noted ] How are two or more steps expressed 1 How are changes of position, or steps, to be made ] Page 83. How many steps may be made from each original position 1 Describe them. Page 84, 85. By what sort of a diagram is the present system of gesture exemplified ] Page 86. To what are postures and motions of the arm referred, and how are they noted ] Page 87. How many primary postures of the arm are there 1 ? How are the fifteen primary postures of the arm more particularly noted ] Page 89. In referring gestures to certain points in a sphere, is mathematical precision necessary ] What is there peculiar in the colloquial elevations of the arm 1 Page 91. How does the degree of energy, proceeding from the sentiment of desire, or aversion, influence the character of gesture ] How is the notation varied, to mark the different degrees of exten- sion of the arm ] Page 91. Enumerate some of the postures of the arm which are named from the manner of holding the arm, or resting it upon the body. Page 93. By what circumstances are the postures of the hand determined ] Describe some of the postures belonging to the first class. Page 96. Describe the postures of the second class, which de- pend on the manner of presenting the palm. Page 97. Describe the postures of the third class, arising from the combined disposition of the hands. Page 98. Describe the fourth class. Page 100. Why may any posture of the arm, or hand, sustain different significant characters ] How are the motions of the hands and arms considered, and how are they noted ] Page 101. What is noting ] What is projecting, or pushing ] How is waving performed, and how is it noted ] How is the flourish performed, and how is it noted 1 What is the sweep, and how is it noted 1 Page 102. What is beckoning ] What is repressing ? W T hat is striking, and how is it noted ] What is recoiling ] Page 103. How is advancing performed 1 What is springing ] What is throwing 1 ? What is clinching] How is collecting per- formed ] What is shaking ] What is pressing ] What is re- tracting ] What is rejecting ] What is bending ] Page 104. Why should an orator hold his head erect ] To what should the movements of the head be adapted 1 Name the 164 ELOCUTION. principal postures and motions of the head, and direction of the eyes, with their notation letters. Page 105. In what manner should the motions of the body ac- company those of the hands and arms'? What forms the grand instrument of gesture 1 Where is the centre of motion of this com- pound instrument] Do these parts move together in the manner of an inflexible line] In gesticulating, does this complex instru- ment continue long in one direct line, or in any particular flexure] Page 106. What is the stroke of the gesture] Should the stroke of the gesture always be made with the same degree of force ] To what is the stroke of the gesture analogous ? Are there any other points of analogy between the voice and gesture ? Page 107. Is it important that the stroke of the gesture should fall precisely on the accented syllable of the emphatic word ] What kind of gesture is that which is called sawing the air ? With what effect are all unmeaning motions of public speakers attended ! Page 108. What is meant by the terms principal gesture, and subordinate gesture ? W 7 hat are significant gestures ] Page 109. Are the majority of gestures significant? What do gestures, in general, denote ? Into how many classes are these various gestures divided 1 What are commencing gestures ? What are discriminating gestures'] Page 110. What are auxiliary gestures] W T hat are suspend- ing gestures'? What are emphatic gestures'? Page 111. Give illustrations of these several gestures. Page 112. May these five classes of gestures be used in any part of discourse] Do modern orators ever perform the principal gesture with the left hand] Is not this practice at variance with the rules of Quintilian ? How do you account for this difference between the customs of the ancient and modern orators'? On what occasions may the left hand perform the principal gesture 1 ? Do the moderns violate another precept of Quintilian ? Page 113. Under what circumstances do the corresponding hand and foot naturally advance together? When may the con- trary hand and foot advance together? In the transitions of ges- ture, should the hand and arm always be precipitated to the intended position by the shortest course] Describe some of these curves. Page 114. For what purpose is this indirect line used ? By what is the extent of the return, or depth of the sweep, deter- mined ? Does the preparation made by these curves suit every species of gesture? What kind of preparation is generally made for emphatic gestures? Page 115. Illustrate it by examples. Page 116. What is the connexion of gesture, and how is it shown? How is the connexion of gesture, in the vertical direction, noted ? Page 117. Illustrate the connexion of gesture in the vertical QUESTIONS. 165 direction by an example] To what does the transition of gesture relate, and what does it signify ] May a gesture have a very different character and effect, according to the manner in which the hand arrives at its destined point] Why do painters generally choose to represent the suspending gestures'? To what does the transition of gesture particularly relate 1 ? Page 118. If the passage to be pronounced be of considerable length, why should trie right hand perform the principal gesture throughout the whole of it? Under what circumstances may the right hand yield to the left the performance of the principal gesture 1 Page 119. May not this balancing, or alternation of gesture, be carried to an affected extreme 1 How should the transition of ges- ture, from one hand to the other, be managed ? What is the gene- ral rule, in regard to changing the position of the feet"? Page 120. What is the general rule for accompaniment of ges- ture, in calm and moderate speaking, when both hands do not per- form the same gesture? What important accompaniments are to be attended to besides the motions of the subordinate gesture 1 Page 121. Give an example of some of the stronger changes of the head, body, and lower limbs, which accompany certain principal gestures. Page 122. Describe, in their natural order, the several motions which maybe employed in expressing aversion. What is the close and termination of gesture, and in what manner should it be ef- fected ? Should a single word, or idea, be marked with more than one emphatic stroke? Page 123. Is there any particular point of elevation at which emphatic gestures should terminate ? Should gesture be limited, in its application, to any particular words and passages 1 For what parts of the oration will a judicious speaker reserve the force and ornament of gesture 1 By what should the frequency of gesture be determined "? Page 124. In what kind of sentences may a gesture be made on each word ] Why should a sentence be slowly delivered, in which a gesture is made on almost every word ] Does the em- phatic gesture always fall on those words which are the principal, in a grammatical sense — the nouns and verbs 1 Under what cir- cumstances should gestures, which are noted alike, be varied ? Page 125. Should there beany cessation of gesture during the delivery of a discourse "? What is gesture said to hold the place of? How, then, should it be managed ? W 7 hat are the principal quali- ties which constitute the perfection of gesture ! How is magnifi- cence of gesture effected 1 Page 126. What are the opposite imperfections 1 From what does boldness of gesture arise 1 What is the opposite imperfection ] Of what does energy of gesture consist ] What are the opposite imperfections'? Of what does variety of gesture consist ? What 166 ELOCUTION. is the opposite imperfection'? What is simplicity of gesture? What is the opposite imperfection ? What is grace of gesture? Page 127. What is the opposite imperfection? W hat is pro- priety of gesture ? What are the opposite imperfections ? From what does precision of gesture arise? What are the opposite im- perfections? What are the three general modes of public speak- ing ? Does each require a different style of gesture ? What does epic gesture demand ? Page 128. What does rhetorical gesture require ? What does colloquial gesture require ? Under what circumstances should the gestures of the public speaker be principally of that class which is called discriminating gestures ? How should he perforin them ? From what does the charge, which is sometimes made against pub- lic speakers, of being theatrical in their gesture, probably arise ? Page 129. On what occasions should the public speaker use more graceful, more flowing, and more varied gesture ? What should he guard against, and how should all his gestures be regu- lated ? What are the most important significant gestures of the head and face ? What are the most important significant gestures of the eyes ? Page 130. What are the most important significant gestures of the arms? Name some of the most important significant ges- tures of the body. What are some of the most important signifi- cant gestures of the lower limbs ? Page 131. What is Lord Karnes's definition of grace? On what does the gracefulness of rhetorical action depend ? Where is grace to be found ? Can true grace and consummate eloquence be acquired by every one ? In what does the grace of oratorical ac- tion consist ? Why should action, to be graceful, be performed with facility? Why should it be performed with freedom? Page 132. What are some of the situations in which it would be impossible for an orator to be truly graceful ? Is the restraint arising from diffidence prejudicial to grace ? How may it be cor- rected ? What is indispensable for the maintenance of grace in rhetorical action ? Do simplicity and truth of manner constitute grace ? What effect have gestures, which are contrived for the mere display of the person, or for the exhibition of some foppery, as, for instance, a fine ring? What effect has affectation upon ora- torical grace ? What are some of the faults of manner? Page 133. Why is the action of young children never deficient in grace? In what does the grace of action consist, according to Hogarth? Is his definition correct ? From what does rhetorical action derive its "race? PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Having treated of the principles of Reading and Speaking, it is now necessary, in order to render this Work an entire System of Elocution, to furnish the pupil with appropriate Exercises for the practical application of these principles. The Exercises are divided into two Parts. Part I. consists of Exercises in Articulation, Pitch, Force, Time, and Gesture. Part II. consists of Exercises in Reading and Declamation. PART I. EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION, PITCH, FORCE, TIME, AND GESTURE. FIRST EXERCISE. Table of the Elements of the English Language. VOWELS. SUBVOWELS. ASPIRATES. ALE BOW FAME ARM DAY HUT ALL GAY KITE AN LIGHT PIT EVE MIND SIN END NO TIN ILE SONG SHADE IN ROLL THIN OLD ORB WHAT LOSE THEN ON VILE VOWEL COMPOUNDS. TUBE WO OIL UP YOKE AY FULL ZONE BOY OUR AZURE BUOY This Exercise should be practised as follows : 1. Utter each ele- ment with the falling inflection, the vowels with explosive force, (167) i68 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 2. Utter each vowel and subvowel, alternately, with the rising- and falling inflection. 3. Utter the vowels with the falling inflection, alternately, in a high and low pitch. 4. Utter each vowel in the medium pitch of the natural voice, then in the falsetto, and lastly, in the lowest note of the natural voice. 5. Pronounce every word under the head Subvowels, as well as under the head Aspirates, in the following manner: make a full inspiration, and dwell for two or three seconds on the initial element ; then utter the remainder of the word with a sudden and forcible expulsion of the breath.* SECOND EXERCISE. In this Exercise, every vowel is preceded by every subvowel, and by every aspirate. a a a a J e e | 1 1 | 6 6 6 | u u u | ou. ba ba ba ba | be be | bl bl | b6 b6 b6 | bu bu bu | bou. da da da da | de de | dl dl | d6 d6 d6 | du da du | dou. ga ga. ga ga | ge ge | gl g\ \ go go go | gu gu gu |gou. la la la la | 16 le | li 11 | 16 16 16 | lu lu lu | lou. ma ma ma ma | me me | ml mi | m6 m6 m6 | mu. mu mu | mou. na na na na | ne ne | nl nl | no n6 n6 j nu nu nu | nou. ra ra ra ra. j re r6 J rl rl | ro r6 r6 | ru ru rti | rou. THk Tiia Tiia THa. | thc THe | th! th! I tho th6 tho | THU THVL THU | THOU. va va va va. | ve ve | vi vl | v6 v6 v6 | vu vu, vu J vou. wa wa wa wa | we we | wi wl | wo w6 w6 | wu wu wti | wou. ya ya ya ya | ye ye | yi yl | yo y6 y6 | yu y& yu | you. ik i\ ik ik \ih ib\ ii >A \ bo id i6 \ in ik in \ iou. Sa ik ik ik \ ib ib \ i\ i\ \ ib ib 26 | lu ik in \ 2ou. fa fa fa fa | fe fe | fl fi | f6 f6 f6 | fa fa fu | fou. ha ha ha ha | hi h6 | hi hi | ho h6 h6 | hu hu hu | hou. ka ka ka ka | ke k6 | kl ki | ko k6 k6 | ku kk ku | kou. pa pa pa pa. | pe pe | pi pi | p6 p6 p6 | pi pu pu | pou. sa sa sa sa | se se | si si | so s6 s6 | su su su | sou. * As song and orb do not begin with a subvowel, they should be omitted in this exercise. And as it is impossible to dwell on the aspirate, h, the word hut may also be omitted. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 169 shk sha sha sha | she she | shi shl j sh6 sh6 sh6 | shu. shu shu | shou. tk tk ta ta | te te j tl tl | t6 td td | tu tu tu | toil. thk thk thk thk \ thh thh | th\ th\ \ thb thb thb \ thii th\x thu. j thou. wha wha wha wha | whe whe | whl whl J wh6 wh6 wh6 | whu whu whu | vvhou. THIRD EXERCISE. The object of this Exercise is to bring into proper play the muscles of the lips, and enable the pupil to pronounce with facility, v, w, and wh, in certain situations, and to distinguish between them. wa - va va - wa 6v - wa wa - wha wa - va va - wa 6v - wa wa - wha wa - va va - wa 6v - wa wa - wha wa - va va - wa 6v - wa wa - wha we - ve ve - we 6v - we we - whe we - ve ve - we 6v - we we - whe wl - vi vl - wi 6v - wi wl - whi wl - vl vl - wl 6v - wl wi - whl w6 - v6 v6 - w6 6v - wo w6 - wh6 w6 - vd v6 - w6 6v - w6 w6 - wh6 w6 - v6 v6 - w6 6v - w6 w6 - wh6 wu - vu vu - wu 6v - wu wu - whu wu - vft vu - wu 6v - wu wu - whu wu - vu vu - wu 6v - wu wu - whu wou-vou vou - wou 6v - wou wou -whou FOURTH EXERCISE ,* da - ga ta - ka THa - ik f£a - sa da - ga ta - ka THa - 4a thk - sa da - ga ta - ka THa - ik thk - sa da - ga ta - ka THa - £a thk - sa de - ge te - ke THe - 4e thh. - se de - ge te - ke THe - ik thh - se dl -gi tl - kl thI - i\ th\ - sl dl - gl tl - kl th! - a th\ - si do - go tu - ko THO - 46 thb - s6 d6 - g6 td - k6 th6 - 46 thb - s6 d6 - g6 t6 - k6 th6 - 46 thb - s6 du - gu tu — ku THU - 4u thti - su di\ - gu tu - ku THU - 4u thb - su du - gu tu - ku THU - 4u thh - su dou - gou tou- kou THOU - 4ou thou - sou The design of this exercise is to bring into proper action the 15 170 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION FIFTH EXERCISE. The object of this Exercise is to enable the pupil to utter per- fectly the subvowels and aspirates, when they are the final elements of words. ab eb ib ob ub ad ed id od ud ag eg ig og ug al el il ol ul am em im om um an en in on un ang eng ing ong ung ar er ir or ur aTH eTH iTH OTH UTH av ev iv ov uv ab eb ib ob ub ab eb ib ob ub af ef if of uf ak ek ik ok uk ap ep ip op up ash esh ish osh ush at et it ot ut ath eth \th oth uth N, and NG, contrasted. an, ang; en, eng; in, ing; on, ong; un, ung. SIXTH EXERCISE. This Exercise exhibits the analysis of words in which there are easy combinations of elements. In the first column the words are presented as they are usually spelled ; in the second, their elements are separated by hyphens. The pupil should spell the words, ut- tering, separately, each element, and not the name of the letter, as is generally done in the schools. ale day Jane .... .... a-1 d-a d'b-k-n arm baa cart all a-r-m b-a k-a-r-t a-1 law orb .... 1-a a-r-b awe a morn .... .... m-a-r-n end . . says . . said . . isle . . rhyme ink . . , oak . . beau . . John few . £-n-d s-e-i s-e-d i-1 r-i-m i-ng-k 6-k b-6 \-6-b d-S-6-n f-u muscles which move the tip, and root of the tongue, and to contrast the elements, d and g, and t and /c, which, by children, are some- times confounded. The want of entire cofimand of the muscles of the tongue and lips, is the reason why some persons speak thick, as it is called. A part of this Exercise is adapted to the case of lispers, those who substitute the subvowel th for b ; and the aspirate th, for s. add ... PRACTICAL a-d ELOCUTION view 1- .... v-u 1-a-m e-v suit . . . . s-u-t eve . . . feud her sir wolf now .... f-u-d pea.... key . . . field . . people . P-e k-e f-e-l-d P-&-P-1 h-u-r . . . . s-u-r .... w-u-l-f .... n-ou SEVENTH EXERCISE. This Exercise exhibits the analysis of words in which there are difficult combinations of elements. months m-u-n-th-s worlds w-u-r-1-d-i rhythm r-l-th-m tracts t-r-a-k-t-s twists t-w-1-s-t-s friendship f-r-e-n-d-sh-i-p breadths h-r-h-d-th-s attempts a-t-t-e-m-p-t-s tasks t-a-s-k-s exhausts e-g-2-h-a-s-t-s acts a-k-t-s precepts p-r-e-s-e-p-t-s shrinks sh-r-i-ng-k-s themselves TH-e-m-s-e-1-v-z hands h-a-n-d-S suspects s-u-s-p-e-k-t-s mists m-1-s-t-s resolves r-e-2-6-l-v-& truths t-r-U'th-s exists e-g-2-l-s-t-s baths b-a-TH-i thousands th-ou-i-k-n-d-i paths p-a-TH-i thousandth th-ou-$-a.-ri-d-th sixths s-1-k-s-th-s objects d-b-d-2-e-k-t-s EIGHTH EXERCISE. This is an Exercise in Pitch. The first four notes, counting from below, belong to the natural voice ; the fifth, to the falsetto. The pupil should pronounce the letters, a, e, i, «, in the ascending and descending order of the scale, and with the rising and falling inflection, as represented by the notes. He should then, in like manner, pronounce each vowel element — ascending and descend- ing, as before. Diag. 2. c m cd En ffi o H 01 a H > Oh - m 2 « 2 — — — A— f>— -A-9- -a-a- -e-e- -l-i- -6-6- -u-u- -a-a- -e-e- -i-i- -6-6- -u-u- -a-a- -e-e- -i-i- -6-6- -u-u- -a-a- -e-e- -i-i- -6-6- -u-u- -a-a- -e-e- -i-i- -6-6- -u-u- Mr. President, Mr. President, Mr. President, Mr. President, 172 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. NINTH EXERCISE. The pupil should pronounce all the vowels, which admit of long quantity, alternately with the rising and falling inflection, througl various intervals of pitch, as shown by the Diagram. Diag. 22. i 1 1 1 i 1 * j I a 1 A 44 1 a 1 1 i I 8L A w A 9 i 9 1 ? ■ ? 1 ▼ 1 T kl a. kl a. kl a. kl a. kl a. kl k. kl a. kl k. kl a. kl a. kl a. kl a. kl a. kl a. a? a. kl a. al a. a? a. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. Hi. 1 1 i. Hi. 11 i. 11 i. ill. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 5. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. 61 6. oulou. oul ou. oulou. oulou. oul ou. oul ou. TENTH EXERCISE. EMPHASIS MELODIES. Diag. 23. Diag. 24. '" 1 * ▼ f ▼ V field, house, temple. thunder, battle, heaven, A storm of universal fire v blasted every fielcb, con- sumed every house', and destroyed every tem v ple. Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n, Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flash'd the red artiMery. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Diag. 25. Diag. 26. 173 -— 9 o *" ▼ 9 — f — *— — *- tower, shine, glad, terrible, man, woman, child, beast. Ye are the things that tower, that shines, whose smile makes glad', whose frown is ter rible. They did not see one man\, not one woman, not one child , not one four-footed beast', of any description whatever. Diag. 27. Diag. 28. f -*— V T 9 1 V — t— 1 exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, disturbed, delighted, raised, refined. Exulting, trembling, ra ging, fainting, Possess'd beyond the Muse's painting. By turns they felt the glowing mind, Disturbs, delight ed, rais'd x , refin'd^. Diag. 29. I f * 1 $ f— f I f seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless, death, clay. The populous and the powerful was a lump. Sea x sonless, herbJess, treeless, manless, lifeJess A lump of deatlr — a chaos of hard clay^. Diag. 30. poor, 15* rich, abject, august, complicate, wonderful. 174 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. How poor, how riclr, how abject, how august, How complicate, how won derful is man ! Diag. SI, 9 f f $ time, wrong, contumely, love, delay, office, spurns, For who would bear the whips and scorns of time v , The oppressor's wrongs the proud man's contumely, The pang of despised lovev, the law's delays The insolence of office, and the spurns/ That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodvkin 1 INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. There is nothing peculiar in the melody of interrogative sentences, when they are pronounced with the falling inflection ; but, when they are pronounced with the rising inflection, they are character- ized as follows: When a question is asked simply for information, and there is but one emphatic syllable in it, this syllable rises concretely from the pitch-note line, through the interval of a third, or fifth (or there- abouts), according to the degree of energy with which the sentence is pronounced. And the syllables which follow the interrogative note (if I may so call it), are pronounced in the pitch of the upper extreme of this note, thus : — Diag. 32. i With you, and quit my Su - san's side 1 When a question is asked with surprise, the interrogative note begins a degree below the pitch-note, and rises, concretely, about a fifth, or an octave, thus : — PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. H5 Diag. 33. I With you ! and quit my Su - san's side. Should Susan's also be pronounced with emphatic force, but with less energy than you, the melody would be as follows : — Diag. 34. | ' » * j With you! and quit my Su - san's side! Susan's, be Diag. 35. Should side, instead of Susan's, be made emphatic, the melody would be thus : — 1 6 A & 6 6 — A- With you ! and quit my Su - san's side ! And should you, Susan's, and side, be all pronounced with empha- tic force, the melody wonld be as follows : — Diag. 36. m ^3 With you ! and quit my Su - san's side ! The following- sentence is apt to be read to the melody of dia- gram 33 ; it should, however, be read to that of Diagram 37. Diag. 37. 4- With you ! the hap - less hus - band cried, 176 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. The phrase, " the hapless husband cried,''' is not a part of the interrogation, but is parenthetical, and should be read one degree lower than the pitch-note. ELEVENTH EXERCISE. FORCE. The pupil should utter all the vowel sounds with the rising and falling inflection, in each of the nine degrees of force. He should then read, or recite, some passage in each of these degrees, begin- ning as soft as possible, thus : — Diag. 38. a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a to CO CO CO co CO cc CO CO o CD CD CD CD o CD CD CD *-> +J .£ .£ .2 .2 .2 .2 .2 .HI .2 "o '3 'o 'o "3 'o "o "o '3 o o O o o o o o o CO CO CO CO CO CO CO CO CO CO CO CO 03 CO CO CO CO CO m cti cs ni cd Cd cd cd 03 cd CD CD 0) CD CD CD 0) CD > > > > > > > > > nJ a cd cd CB a Cd cd cd *- u. *- Ih <-. S-. s- ui 43 43 43 42 43 43 43 42 43 >> >> >* >> >-. t^ >-, >> >, § S S a ^ e? s 3 3 TWELFTH EXERCISE. MODULATION. There are many persons who do not vary the pitch and force of their voices according to the varying demands of sentiment. They read every thing alike ; and they do not appear capable of imitating a correct manner of speaking. In such cases, I have found it ne- cessary, in order to break up established habits, and direct the voice, as it were, into a new channel, to institute exercises in which the pitch and force of the voice are varied in the wildest and most ex- travagant manner. For instance, I select some piece, and divide it into sections. The first of these sections I pronounce in the falsetto voice, and request the pupil, or, what is better, the whole class, to pronounce it in like manner; the second section I pronounce in the lowest note of the natural voice, and it is immediately repeated by the class; the third, in the highest note of the natural voice; the fourth in a whisper; the fifth, in the medium pitch of the natural voice; and so on. After exercising awhile in this manner, the PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 177 pupil is able to appreciate smaller intervals of pitch ; and the voices of the whole class are ultimately brought into the same key, as is done in singing. The following is an exercise of the kind to which I allude. Falsetto. Lowest note of the natural voice. My brave associates, | partners of my toil, | Highest note of n. v. Whispering voice. Medium note of natural voice my feelings, | and my fame ! | can Holla's words | Highest note n. v. Lowest note of the natural voice. Falsetto. add vigour | to the virtuous energies | which inspire Lowest note. your hearts ? | No ! THIRTEENTH EXERCISE. TREMOUR. The pupil should pronounce all the vowels which admit of long quantity, with a tremulous movement of the voice, as shown by the following diagram : — Diag. 39. o k k k k k The vowels, k, k, £, i, 6, 6, u, and ou, should be pronounced in the same manner. The accented syllable of the words printed in italics, in the fol- lowing passages, may be pronounced with the tremour. That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow. Greece nurtured in her glory's time. And the complaining brooks, that make the meadows green. The tremour heightens the expression, even of opponent passions, as joy and sorrow. It may be occasionally introduced with great effect, both in song and speech, as well as in instrumental music. 178 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. FOURTEENTH EXERCISE. TIME AND GESTURE. A rhythmical ear is essential to the public speaker who would gesticulate with gracefulness, precision and effect. The subject of time, therefore, should claim his particular attention. Those who have not a rhythmical ear, may acquire one, by practising faithfully the following progressive Exercises : 1. Raise the arms, with the hands clinched, to the position ele- vated forwards (Beef), and then bring them down, with great force, to the position downwards forwards {Bcdf), on the energetic utter- ance of each of the elements of speech. 2. Clinch the hands, then retract one arm, and project the other, alternately, horizontal forwards, on each of the elements. 3. Clinch the hands, and make a beat, horizontal forwards, on the first element ; strike the palms of the hands together on the second ; with the hands clinched, make a beat horizontal forwards on the third ; strike the palms of the hands together on the fourth ; and so on. 4. Beat time on the elements with the dumb-bells. Make the first beat by bringing the bells in contact, horizontal forwards ; the second, by bringing them in contact elevated forwards ; the third, by bringing them in contact downwards forwards ; the fourth, by bringing them in contact downwards backwards, thus : — Diag. 40. METHOD OF BEATING TIME WITH THE DUMB-BELLS.* a &c. * Dumb-bells are commonly made of lead. Those used in the author's Vocal Gymnasium are turned out of lignum vitae. They are one foot long, and four inches in diameter. (See the cuts in the margin.) PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 179 5. Mark the time by marching. The class should march, in file, on a line, in the form of the figure eight (8), and pronounce, after the teacher, an element at every step. Should the class be large, two columns may be formed, which should march in opposite direc- tions. Meanwhile, two, or more pupils, standing out from the class, may keep time with the dumb-bells. SYLLABLE RHYTHM. 6. When the pupil cannot mark the rhythm of poetry, he should first beat time on every syllable, in either, or in all, of the ways which have been described. \ | I f | am r» | mon- r- | arch p- | of r- | all r* 1 1 r» I sur- r* | vey r» | my r» | right p* | there r- | is r» | none r* | to p- | dis- p* | pute r- | from p* | the r* | cen- p» | tre p- | all p- | round p- | to p- | the r* | sea p» ] I r* | am r- I lord p. | of p- | the r- | fowl p* | and p» | the cm I brute r* I &c. POETRY RHYTHM. 7. The rhythm of poetry should be marked by a beat on the ac- cented part of the measure, which, in the following examples, is the first syllable after each vertical bar. Lines supposed to have been written by Alexander Sel- kirk, during his solitary abode on the Island of Juan Fernandez. (COWPER.) I am | monarch of | all I sur- | vey 1 , My | right there is | none to dis- | pute* ; From the | centre all | round to the | sea', I am | lord of the | fowl and the | brute . | solitude ! | where are the | charms That | sages have | seen in thy | face x ? Better | dwell in the | midst of a- | larms\ Than | reign in this | horrible | place v . 1 am | out of hu- | inanity's | reach^ ; I must | finish my | journey a- | lone\? Never | hear the sweet | music of | speech', I start at the | sound of my | own v . 180 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. The | beasts that roam | over the | plain', My | form with in- | difference | see x : They are | so unac- | quainted with | man', Their | tameness is | shocking to | me v . So- | ciety, | friendship, and | love v , Di- | vnrely be- | stow'd upon | man\, O | had I the | wings of a | dove', How | soon would I | taste you a- | gainv ! My | sorrows I | then might as- | suage In the | ways of re- | ligion and | trutlr ; Might | learn from the | wisdom of | age', And be | cheer'd by the | sallies of | youth v Re- | lrgion! what | treasure un- | told', Re- | sides in that | heavenly | wordv ! More | precious than | silver or | gold', Or | all that this | earth can af- | ford^. But the | sound of the | church-going | bell', These | valleys and | rocks, never | heards Ne'er | sigh'd at the | sound of a | knell', Or | smil'd when a | sabbath ap- | pear'd v . Ye | winds that have | made me your | sport', Con- | vey to this | desolate | shore,, Some | cordial en- | dearing re- | port', Of a | land I shall | visit no | more v . My | friends x — do they | now and then | send A | wish or a | thought after | me' ? O | tell me I | yet have* a | friend, Though a | friend I am | never to | see v . How | fleet is a | glance of the | mind v ! Com | par'd with the | speed of its | flight', The | tempest it- | self lags be- | hind', And the | swift-winged | arrows of | lights When I | think of my | own native | land', In a | moment I | seem to be | there v ; But, a- | las ! recol- | lection at | hand', Soon | hurries me | back to de- | spair . PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 181 But the I sea-fowl is | gone to her | nest x ; The | beast is laid J down in his | lain ; Even | here is a | season of | rest', And | I to my | cabin re- | pair . There's | mercy, in | ev v ery | place; And | mercy en- | couraging | thought 1 ! Gives | even af- | fliction a | grace', And | reconciles | man to his | lot v . THE ROSE. (COWPER.) The | rose had been | washes just | wash'd in a | showier, Which | Mary to I Anna con- | vey'd' ; The | plentiful I moisture en- | cumber'^ the | flow'er, And | weight down | its beautiful | hea^ v . The | cup was all I fill'df, anc? the | leaves were all | wet ; And it | seem'd, to a | fanciful | view, To | weep for the | buds it had | left with re- 1 gret, On the | flourishing | bush where it | grew. I | hastily | seiz'd' it, un- 1 fi7 as it | was, For a | nosegay, so | dripping, said j drown'^v, Anc? | swinging it I rudely, too | rudely, a- 1 las ! 1 1 snapp'd^ it — it i fell to the | grounrZ . And | such, I ex- 1 claim'^, is the | pitiless | part', Some, | acZ by the I delicate | mind", Re- i gardless of | wringing, an^ | breaking a | hearZ\ Al- 1 ready to I sorrow re- 1 sign'd . This I elegant I rose, had 1 1 shaken it | less, MighZ have | bloom'6? with its | ow v ner a- | while ; And the | tear, that is | wip'c? with a | little ad- 1 dress', May be I follow'd v per- 1 haps ( by a | smile v . 8. Accompany the pronunciation of the elements with gesture. In the following series of figures, there are two periods of gesture. The first gesture should be made during the pronunciation of the four sounds of a ; the second, during the pronunciation of the two sounds of e; and so on. The whole of the Second Exercise (p. 168), should be practised in this way. The stroke of the gesture should be made on the last element in each group. 1C 182 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION 100 shq — sdq veq—phx br — R a, a, a, a ; M; 1,1; am m Bshq Bveq Bsdq 6,6,6; u, u, u; OU. m m * These two periods of gesture are intended as examples; othera may be supplied by the teacher, as occasion shall require. Every variety of action should be practised, in connexion with the ele- mentary exercises of the voice; and the pupil should be careful to PRACTICAL ELOCUTION SECOND PERIOD. 183 ihq — phx bi, ba, ba, ba; -R2 Bveqe be, te; m Bveqx bl, bl ; tIAz cl ceq — cdx cd/— cdb b6, b6, b6 ; bu, bu, bu ; bou. m C.R2 mark the stroke of the gesture with precision. These uxercises are introductory to declamation. They should be practised in the most energetic manner, and be persevered in till the muscles of the trunk and limbs act harmoniously with those of the voice. 184 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. FIFTEENTH EXERCISE. PRONUNCIATION. The article a should have the sound of a in an, thus — He was 3. man; not a man. When, however, this article is emphatic (which is seldom the case), it should have the sound of a in ale, thus — Did you say a man, or the man? When the article the precedes a word beginning- with a vowel, it should be pronounced the ; when it precedes a word beginning with a consonant, it should be pronounced the, thus — The arts and the sciences. But, when the precedes a word beginning with a conso- nant, and is emphatic, it should be pronounced the, thus — Did you say a man or the man 1 The pronoun my, when emphatic, is pronounced ml ; when not emphatic, it is generally pronounced me. Sometimes the perspi- cuity of a sentence requires my to be pronounced ml, when this pronoun is not emphatic, as in the following example : " And the pale stars shall be at night, The only eyes that watch my rite? Should my, in the above example, be pronounced me, by a public speaker, the auditors might suppose the meaning of the passage to be as follows : And the pale stars shall be at night, The only eyes that watch me right. Euphony sometimes requires my, when not emphatic, to be pro- nounced ml. The following passages are examples : " My brave associates." " Hear me for my cause." " When it shall please my country to need my death." Mine should always be pronounced mine, not mean ; by should always be pronounced bl, not bee; to should be pronounced td, not t& ; of should be pronounced 6v, not tiv ; and from should be pro- nounced fr6m, not frum. The pronunciation of many other words, liable to be pronounced wrong, is given in the foot-notes under the Exercises in Reading and Declamation. SIXTEENTH EXERCISE. DECLAMATION. Before the student attempts to declaim, he should learn to stand erect; to hold his book in a proper manner, and to read correctly. He should then select some short piece, and learn a set of gestures for its illustration by practising them in pantomime, after the teacher. Lastly, he should learn to combine the words and ges- tures, by repeating them together, after the teacher. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 185 METHOD OF TEACHING DECLAMATION. (Didg. 41.) SPEECH OF SATAN TO HIS LEGIONS. veq — phx Princes, 16* Bveq potentates, 186 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION Bsdq warriors, Bveq — the flower of heaven, once yours, | vdq — vdc now lost, if such astonishment B sdq as this | m PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 187 shf — sdx eternal spirits: Bsdf or have ye chosen this place, after the toil of battle, I Bphf to repose your weary q virtue, ! for the ease you find to slumber here, I 189 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION \ seq — shx vdc — vdq as in the vales of heaven? | Or in this abject posture Rl rIA have vou sworn to adore who now beholds cherub the Conqueror? | and seraph | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 189 B phx scattered arms and en- signs, | till anon, his swift pursuers, | Bseq from heaven gates, m 190 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION Bveq discern the advantage, m and descending, | B sdq tread us down, thus drooping, | ceq — cdx or, with linked thunder- bolts, I cdf— edit transfix us to the bot- tom of this gulf, j PRACTICAL ELOCUTION 191 veq — phx Awake, Bsdq or be for ever 192 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION THE MISER AND PLUTUS. R Bvhfr q The wind was high aR2 peg n — pdq the window shakes ; veq c — vhx c with sudden start the Rlx miser wakes ! I pdcad- Along the silent room phq — he stalks ; | all? PRACTICAL ELOCUTION 193 B vhx — vhq c Looks back, I Bvhftr and trembles as sRlx he walks ! I vhq- Each lock, | and ev'ry shq o— . . In ev'ry creek. — vkx bolt he tries, alS, 17 — slic i and corner, pries ; aB2 194 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION B pdq — Then opes his chest, with treasure stor'd, D B seq And stands in rapture us, o'er his hoard : I Idhf- But now with sudden He wrings his hands ; | Bvhfc qualms possest, Idbr he beats his breast — | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 195 gbr — < By conscience stung, B shfsh And thus his guilty- he wildly stares ; soul declares : Bsdfd- Had the deep earth aR2 br — R This heart had known Rl her stores confin'd, sweet peace of mind ; 196 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 153 ohf — vhx U Bsefsp- But virtue's sold ! | Good gods ! | what price am 154 Bsdfd- Can recompense the O bane of good ! F— R pangs of vice ? seducing cheat ! PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 197 156 B vhf vef shf st — sdq Can man, | weak man, | thy power defeat ? 158 159 scb sw — sdq Gold banish'd honour And onlv left the from the mind, 17* br — R name behind ; 198 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION 160 Gold sow'd the Bphc world with ev'ry ill ; | Gold taught the eebsh — cdq murd'rer's sword to kill : j 'T was gold instructed In treach'ry's more shfsh — sdq coward hearts | ali2z Bvhfrj pernicious arts. mi PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 199 Who can recount R2 Virtue resides on seq — sdq the mischiefs o'er ? Bpdfd earth no more ! EXPLANATION OF THE CHARACTERS USED IN THE EXERCISES IN READING AND DECLAMATION. ( | ) A vertical bar, employed to divide each paragraph into sec- tions of a convenient length for concert reading. [See the Pre- face.] ( i ) A separation mark. It signifies that the words between which it is placed, should not coalesce. (h) A rest. Where this character is employed there should be a slight suspension of the voice. (-) Ahold. The vowels over which this character is placed, should have an unusual prolongation. (o) A pause, called also a suspending pause. When placed over a rest, it signifies that this rest should have two or three times its usual length. It is called a suspending pause, because it keeps the mind of the hearer in suspense. [See an example on page 221, seventh line from the bottom.] (, x i\ /x ) Acute and grave accents. They are employed to represent the rising and falling inflections, and also the emphasis melodies. [See page 48 and 54.] (a) Acuto-grave accent, or acuto-grave circumflex. [See p. 48.] ( w ) Gravo-acute accent, or gravo-acute circumflex. [See p. 48.] (ir) Irony. The passage to which these letters are prefixed, is ironical. (rp) Reproach. When these letters are prefixed to a passage, it contains the language of reproach. (wh) Whisper. The passage to which these letters are prefixed, should be whispered. (1, 2, 3, 4) These numbers represent the degrees of modulation. [See p. 57.] The italic letters represent sounds which are liable to be omitted, or imperfectly articulated. When all the letters in a word are italic, the word is emphatic. The emphatic words, however, are seldom, in this work, marked by italic letters. In designating the pronunciation of words, in the foot-notes, I have used the letters which, on page 19, and 20, represent the ele- ments of the English language. No superfluous letters are em- ployed, as is done by lexicographers. The pronunciation of each word is determined by the letters which represent the sounds of which it is composed, and by the situation of the accent. (eoo) PART II. EXERCISES IN READING AND DECLA MATION. SPEECH OF SATAN TO HIS LEGIONS. (MILTON.) Narrative, He scarce had ceas'd, I when the superior fiend I Was moving tow'rd the shorn ; | his pond'rous shield, J Etherial temper, mas'sy, large', and round', I Behind Aim cas^ ; I the broad circumference a | Hung on his shoulders like the moon' | whose orb Through optic glass | the Tuscan artist views At evening | from the top of Fes o-le, | Or in Valdarno, c | to descry new lands', | Riv'ers, or mount N ains, d lin her spotty globe^. I His spear' I (to equal which | the tallest pine, | Hewn on Norwegian hills, | to be the mas£ Of some greaZ amiral, e |were but a wand') | He walk'd^ with, | to support uneasy steps | Over the burning marl, I (not like those steps On heaven's a'zure ! f ) I and the torrid clime | Smote on Aim sore besides*, ! vaulted with fire : | Nathless ? he so endur'd, | till on the beach Of thai inflamed sea he stood, I and call'd His le^gions, | angel-forms | who lay entranc'd | a Ser-ktWfe-rens. b Gallileo. He was born at Florence, the capital of Tuscany, in Italy. c Valdarno, Vdlle'di Arno (Italian), the vale of the Arno, a delightful valley in Tuscany. d Moun'tlnz. 8 Am'i-ral (French), admiral. f A'2ur. s Nath'ISs. (201) 202 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. ThicA; as autumnal 1 leaves | thaZ strow the brooks In Vallombro , sa b \ where the Etrurian shades, | High over-arch'd, imbow 9 r\ ; i or scatter'*/ sedge, Afloat, | when with fierce winds, I Orion, c arm'd, | Hath vex'd the Red-Sea coas£ | whose waves o'erthrew Busiris, d |and Ais Memphian e chiv'alry/ 1 While with perfidious- hatred | they pursu'd The sojourners 11 of Go' shen, I who beheld From the safe shore, I their floating carcasses, I And broken charioZ wheels : | so thicA; bestrown, | Abject, and lost, | lay thesex, | covering the flood, | Under amazement 1 of their hideous j change v . | He call'd so loud, I that all the hollow deep Of hell resouiKied / I Speech. ff Prinzes, | potentates, | Warriors, k i the flow'r of heaven, | onceyours x , |nowlos^ r I If such astonishment as this' | can seize | Eternal" 1 spirits : \ ir or have ye chosen this place, | After the toil of battle, | to repose Your wearied virtue, | for the ease you find To slunrber here, | as in the vales of heaven 1 \ r; Or, in this abject posture, | have ye sworn To adore the Conq v 'ror 1 | who now beholds" Cherufr, and seraph, | rolling in the flood | With scatter'd arms, and eirsigns ; I till anon | His swift pursuers, | from heav'n-gates | discern The advantage, | and descending, I tread us down, | Thus droop jng ; | or, with linked thumderbolts, ) Transfix' us | to the bottom of this gulf. | /y/ AwaA;e v ! I arise' ! | or be for ev.er fallen, ! | a A-tum'na.1. b Vallombrosa (vdlle, a vale; ombroso, shady), a shady valley in the Apennines, fifteen miles east of Florence. c Ori'on, a constellation, in the southern hemisphere. d Busi'ris, Pharaoh. e Memphian, from Memphis, ancient capital of Egrypt f Tshlv'al-re. e Per-fid'yus. h So'd^um-ftr*. * A-mai'ment. J Hld'- e-us. tWar'yuri. > As-t6n'lsh-m£nt. ™E-ter'nal. ° Be-h61d2, not burholds. ° DIz-z&rn'. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 203 ossian's address to the sun. O thou tha^ rolles£ above, I round as the shield of my fathers ! | Whence are thy beams', O sun', | thy ever- lasting ligttfv ? | Thou comes£ forth in thy awful beauty; | the stars hide themselves in the sky*; I the moon, cold, and pale', | sinks in the western wave. | Bu£ thou thy- self moves£ alone* : | who can be a companion of thy course^? | The oaks of the mountains a fall 1 ; I the mountains themsel?;es' , decay with years* ; | the ocean shrinks, and grows^ again ; | the moon herself b is lost in heav*n ; | but thou ar£ for ever the same*, I rejoicing in the bright- ness of thy course*. I 1 When the world is dar& with tempests', | 2 when thunder rolls, and lightning flies', 1 3 thou lookesZ in thy beauty from the clouds', | 4 and laugh'es£ at the storm v . I 2 But, to Ossian, thou lookes^ in vaiir ; | for he beholds thy beams c no more*, d | whether thy yellow hairs | flow on the eastern clouds', i or thou trembles^ at the gates of the wes^. | But thou art perhaps Me me' — I for a sea v son : | thy years will have an end*. I Thou shak sleep in the clouds', i careless of the voice of the morn ing. | 4 Ex- u\t\ then, O sun', I in the strength of thy youtlr ! l 1 Age 1 is darA:, and unlovely: I 2 it is like the glimmering ligh* of the moon', I when , it shines through broken clouds'; | and the mist is on the hillss I the blast of the north is on the plain', | the traveller shrinks in the midsZ of his jour ney. I tell's address to the mountains. (knowles.) ff Ye crags, and peaks', 8 | I'm with you once agaim ; f | I hold to you the hands you firs*' beheld,, | a Moun'tinz. b Moon herself, not moo'-ner-self. c He , beholds thy beams; not He'be holds thy beams. d Ossian was blind. e Crags and peaks ; not cragz'n peaks, nor crags Ann Peaks. f Agfen'. 204 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. To show they still are a free v . | Rethinks I b hear A spirit in your echoes, answer me, I 2 And bid your tenant welcome to Ais homes Againv ! c | O sabred forms, | how proud* x you loo& d ! | How high you lift your heads into the sky' ! | How hugev , you e are ! | how mighty, | and how free^ ! | Ye are the things thaUow'r— |tha£ shine* — I whose smile Makes glad' — | whose frown is ter rible — I whose forms, Robed, or un robed, I do all the impress wear I Of awe divine v . | Ye guards of liberty, | I 'm with you once agaim ! c — j fff l call to you | With all my voice' ! — | I hole? my hands to you I To show they still are free* — | I rush to you I As though I could embrace* you f ! | BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN. (CAMPBELL.) On Linden/ when the sun was low, | All bloodless lay the untrodd'n snowx, | And dark as win ter, was the flow' I Of Iser h rolling rapidly. I But Linden* saw anotlrer sigh*, I When the drum beat a* dead of nigh**, 1 Commanding fires of death* , to ligh*' | The darkness of her see nery\ I By torch, and trumpet fast array ? d', | Each horseman k drew his bat v tle blade ; | And furious every charger neigh'd', | To join the dreadful rev elry. | a Still , are ; not stillar. b Methinks ,1; not me-think' si. o Agen. «i Proud , you look ; not prow'jew-look. e Huge , you are ; not hew'jew-are. f Embrace you ; not embra'shew. e Lin'- den ; not Lindun. h E'sur. * Stin'&r-e; not ste'nury. iTrump'ft. k Hars'man : not hnsmun. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 205 Then shooft the hills with thunder riv'n ; | Then rush'd the steed to battle driven ; | And louder than the boks of heaven, | Far flash'd the red artiMery a . I And redder yet those fires shall glow I On Linden's 13 hills of blood-stain'd snow* ; J And darker yet, shall be the flow | Of Iser rolling rapidly. I 'Tis morn v , — I hut scarce yon lurid sun' t I Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun*, I Where furious FranA, and fiery Hun' I Shoui in their sulph'rous canopy. I The combat deepens — ! -^On , ye brave% l Who rush to glory, or the grave* ! I /f-TWave, Munich/ | all thy banners , wave' ! I And charge with all thy chiv x alry e ! I mp Few, few shall part where many mee^ ! J The snow shall be their windang-sheef, | And every turf beneath f their feeZ', | Shall be n a soldier's sepulchre. | SPEECH OF ROLLA TO THE PERUVIAN ARMY. [From Kotzebue's Pizarro.] (R. B. SHERIDA.N.) My brave associates ! I partners of my toil', | my feelings, | and my fame* ! I Can RollaV words add vigour | to the virtuous h energies 1 1 which inspire your hearts' 1 I No, ! I you have judged as T have, | the foulness of the crafty plea' I by which these bold in- vaders would delude* you. I Your generous spirit | has compared as rnine^ has, | the motives | which, in a war , \\ke this', | can animate their minds, and ours v . j | a Artil'lur-re. b Lin'den ; not Lindun. c Rdm'bat. a Mu'nik. e Tshlv'al-rfe. f Be-neTH'. e R61'laz ; not Rolluz. h Vertshu- tis. • En'er-dze&. i And ours ; not Ann Dowers. 18 206 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. They, by a strange frenzy driven, | fight for powder, | for plun'der, | and extended rule* — | We, for our couiv- try, | our aftars, | and our homes^. | They follow an adventurer | whom they fear*, I and obey a power | which they hate*. I We serve a monarc/t 1 ' [ whom we love* — | a God | whom we adore, ! , Whene'er they move in an'ger, b | desolation tracAs their progress ; | where'er they pause in am'ity, c | af- fliction mourns their friendship. | They boast — | they come but to improve our state*, | enlarge our thoughts', | and free us from the yo/ce of er.ror ! | Yes* d — I they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, | who are themselves' | the slaves of passion, | av arice, | and pricfe . | They offer us their protection. I Yes* d — | such pro- tection | as vultures give to lambs', — | covering, and devouring them ! | They call on us | to barter all of good ] we have inherited, and proved^, | for the despe- rate chance of something better | which they prom - ise. | Be our plain answer this* : | The throne we honour | is the peo pie's choice — I the laws we revercnce f | are our brave fathers' Jeg x acy — | the faith we follow j teaches us | to live in bonds of charity with all man- kind*, | and die with hopes of bliss | beyond the grave^. j Tell your invaders this' ; | and tell them too', | we seeA* no v change ; | and leasZ of all', | such change | as they* would bring us. | ciiilde harold's address to tiie ocean. (byron.) O thai the desert were my dwelling-place, | With one fair spirit for my minister, | Thai I mighi all forgei the human race', | And, hating no one, | love but only her ! | a Mdn'nark; not monnuck. b Move in anger; not mo-vin-nan<:' g-or. c Pause in amity ; not paw-zin-namfity. ll Vis. e Plain an- swer ; not plain-nan'swcr. f Rev'er-ens; not revurunce. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 207 Ye elements ! — | in whose ennobling stir | I feel myself exalterZ — | can ye not | Accord me such a being? | Do I err | In deeming such inhabit ma*ny a spotl | Though with them to converse, I can rarely be our lo^. ; There is a pleasure* in the pathless woods, | There is a rap'ture on the lonely shore*, | There is society, where none intrudes | By the deep sea v , | and music in its roar. [ I love not man the less, | hut nature mores I From these, our interviews, j in which I steal | From all I may be, | or have been before,, | To mingle with the universe, | ane? feel | Wha£ I can ne'er express*, | yet cannot all conceah | Roll on', a j thou deep, and dar/t-blue ocean — | roll? ! I Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain* ; | Man marks the earth' with ruin — | his control | Stops with the shorex ; — | upon the watery plain | The wrecks are all thy* deed, | nor doth remain j A shadow of man's ravage, | save Ais own\, | When, for a moment, |li&e a drop of rain', | He sinks into thy dep^s with bubbling groan*, | Without a grave*, | unknell'd*,| uncof fin'c?,| and unknown .| His steps are not upon thy paths*, — | thy fields 1 Are not a spoil for Aim 1 , — j thou dost b arise, ] And sha/ie him from' thee ; (the vile strength he wields | For earth's destruction, | thou dost all despise*, | Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies', | And send'sZ him, | Shivering in thy playful spray, | And howling to his gods', | 2 where haply lies ] His petty hope*, | in some near port, or bay*, c | Then dashes^ him again d to earth' : — | there let him lay v .| a Roll on; not roll-Ion'. b Dtist. c Port, or bay; not Porter Bay. d Ag£n'. 208 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. The armaments which thunderstri&e the walls | Of roc&-buil£ cit'ies, | bidding nations qua&e, | And monarchs a tremble in their capitals, | The oaA; leviathans | whose huge ribs mak | Their clay-creator the vain title take \ Of lore? of thee', j and arbiter of war ; | These are thy toys*, | and, as the snowy flaAe', | They melt into thy yest h of waves*, | which mar, j Alike, the Armada's pride, | or spoils of Trafalgar . d | Thy shores are em pires, | chang'd in all save thee* — | Assyi\ia,l Greecesj Rome',) Carthage,|whaZ are they v ?| Thy waters wasted them while they were free', | And many a tyrant since x ; | their shores obey | The stranger, slave', or sav^age ; | their decay j Has dri'd up realms to desserts : — | not so thou', | Unchangeable, j save to thy wild waves' play 4 — | Time .writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow x — | Such as creation's dawn' beheld, | thou rolles^ no\v. | Thou glorious mirror, | ^here the Almighty's form | Glasses itself in tenrpesZs ; | 2 in all' time, | Calm, or convuls'd* — | in breeze 7 , or gale', or storm*, | Icing the pole', | or in the torrid clime, | Dar/c-heavang; | boundless, |end'less, |and sublime* — | The image of eternity — | Uhe throne | Of the Invisible; | 2 e'en from out thy slime' | The monsters of the deep are made v ; J each zone | Obeys* thee ; Ithou goesZ forth,ldread*,| fathomless, lalone v .! 5p And I #ave lov'd' thee, ocean ! | and my joy | Of youthful sports, | was on thy breast to be | Borne, like thy bubbles, omward ; | from a boy' | I wanton'd with thy breakers : | they to me, | Were a delight ; | and, if the freshening sea | Made them a terror — | 't was a plea sing fear, | For I was as it were a child' of thee, | And trusted to thy billows, far, and near, | And laid my hand upon thy mane' — | as I do here^. | a M6n'narks; notmon'nucks. b Y6st. c Ar-ma'-daz. u Traf-fal-gar'. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 209 APOSTROPHE TO THE QUEEN OF FRANCE. (burke.) It is now sixteen, or seventeen years', | since I saw the queen of France, | then the daiiphiness, | ai Ver- sailles v ; | and surely, never lighted on this orb, | (which she hardly seemed to touch) | a more delightful visaon. | I saw her jusi above the horizon, | decorating, and cheering the elevated sphere | she jusi began to move* in — | glittering like the morning star' — | full of life', | and splen'dour, | and joy v . | x Oh whai a revolution ! | and what a heart must I have, | to contemplate without emotion, | thai elevation, | and thai fallj | 2 Little did I dreams | when she added titles of vene- ration | to those of enthusiastic, distant, respectful love, | that she should ever be obliged | to carry the sharp an- tidote againsi disgrace', | concealed in thai bo^som — | little did I dream | that I should have lived | to see such disasters fallen upon her | in a nation of gallant meir, — | in a nation of men of hon our, | and of cavaliers^. | I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards | to avenge even a loo& v [ thai threatened her with insula. | But the age of chivalry is gone^. | That of soplristers, | economists, | and calculators, | has succeedved; | and the glory of Europe , J is extinguished for ev er. | Never, never more, | shall we behold thai generous loyalty to rank and sex\, — | thai proud submission, — | thai dignified obedience, — j thai subordination of the heari' | which kept alive, | even in servitude itself \ | the spirii of an exalted freedom. | The unboughi grace of lifex, j the cheap defence of nations, | the nurse of manly sentimeni, | and heroic enterprise, | is gone\ ! | It is gone, — | thai sensibility of principle, — j thai chastity of hon our, | which feli a stain Me a wounds — | which inspired courage | whilsi ii mitigated fero city, — j which enno'bled whatever ii touched ; | and under which, | vice itself | losi half its evil, | by losing all its grossaiess. | 18* 210 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. BATTLE OF WARSAW. (CAMPBELL.) O sacred Truth ! | thy triumph ceas'd' awhile, | And Hope, thy sister, ceas'd with thee to smile*, | When leagued Oppression pour'd to northern wars, | Her whisker'd pandours, a and her fierce hussars\ b | Wav'd her dread standard to the breeze of morn, f Peal'd her loud drum, | and twang'd her trumpet-hom;] Tumultuous horror brooded o'er Aer van' 1 Presaging wrath to Poland, and to man ! | Warsaw's las* champion, from /*er height, survey'd, j Wide o'er the fields, | a waste of ru m laid — | O Heav'n ! he cried,lmy bleeding country, save* ! | Is there no hand on high to shield the brave' ? | Wha* though destruction , sweep* these lovely plains — j Rise', fellow-men ! | our country ye* remains* ! | By tha* dread name, 1 we wave the sword on high, | And swear for her to live — | with her to die, ! | He said — | and on the rampart-heights, array'd | His trusty war riors, | few, but undismay'd ; | Firm-paced, and slow, | a horrid front' they form ; | Still as the breezes | bu* dreadful as the storm v ; | Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, | Revenge', or death, | the watchword, and reply v ; | Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm*, | And the loud tocsm told their las* alarrn . j In vain, alas ! | in vain, ye gallant few ! | From ranft to ran/c, your volley'd thun'der flew : | O bloodies* picture in the book of Time* ! | Sarma*tia fell, | unwept, | withou* a crime x ; | Found no* a generous friend*, | a pitying foe*, | Strength in her arms, j nor mercy in her wo x ! a Pandour (French), Hungarian soldier. l 'Htiz-zar, one of the Hungarian horsemen, so called from the shout they generally make, at the first onset. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 21] Dropp'd from Aer nerveless gras/?, the shatter'd spear, Clos'd Aer bright eye, j and curb'd her high career : j Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, — | And Freedom shriek'd, as Koscius'ko feh\ ! | The sun went down* ; j nor ceas'd the carnage there x , ) Tumultuous murder shooA the midnight air, : | On Prague's proud arch a | the fires of ru in glow, | His blood-dy'd waters murmuring far below v : | The storm prevails', | the rampart yields away 1 , | Bursas the wile? cry of horror, and dismay » ! | Har/t' ! I as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, ) A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call ! | Earth shoo&\ ] red meteors flash'd along the sky, | And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry v ! | Departed spirits of the mighty dead' ! | Ye thai at Marathon, and Leuc v tra bled / j Friends of the world'! | restore your swords to man', j Fight in Ais sacred cause, land lead the van, ! I Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood', atones | And ma/ie Aer arm puissant as your own*, j O ! once again to Freedom's cause returns | Thou patriot Tell 1 — | thou Bruce of Ban nockburn ! | battle of waterloo. (byron.) There was a sound of revxelry by nigh^ ; | And Belgium's capital | had gather'd then | Her beauty, and Aer chivalry; | and bright | The lamps shone o ? er fair women, and brave men A thousand hearts beat hap pily ; j and, when | Music arose, w T ith its voluptuous swell, | Soft eyes'' look'd love x [ to eyes which spa&e agaiir ; And all wen£ merry as a mar riage-bell — | But hushv !jharA^!ja deep sound strikes like a rising knell' "Proud arch ; not prow-darch'. ! Soft eyes ; not sof-ties'. 212 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Did ye not hear it? — | No ;| 'twas but the wind*, | Or the car rattling o'er the stony street — | On with the dance 1 ! | let joy be unconfin'd* ; | No sleep till morn v , | when Youth, and Pleasure mee£ | To chase the glowing hours, with flying fee^ — | BuZ har/c' / — | that heavy sound breaks in once more*, | As if the clouds its echo would repeal; | And nearer, j clearer, | deadlier than before ! | Arnr ! | ann ! | it is. — | it is* the cannon's opening roar, ! | Within a window'd niche of tha* high hall, | Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; | he did hear [ Thai sound the firsi*, amidst the festival, | And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; ] And, when they smil'd,| because he deem'd it near, | His heart more truly knew thai peal too well*, | Which stretch'd h is father on a bloody bier, | And rous'd the vengeance, blood alone could quell : | He rush'd into the field 1 , | and foremost fighting, fell v . j Ah! then, and there was hurrying to, and fro, | And gathering tears, | and tremblings of distress*. | And cheeks all pale*, | which hut an hour ago, j Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness. | And there were sudden partings, | such as press | The life from out young hearts*. | and choking sighs* | Which ne'er mighi be repeated ; ] who could guess | If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, | Since upon nighi so sweet | such awful morn could rise 1 I And there was mounting in hot haste*: | the steed, | The mustering squadron, |and the clattering car, | Weni pouring forward with impetuous speed*, j And swiftly forming in the ranks of wai\ ; | And the deep thunder peal on peal afar' ! | And near | the beat of the alarming drum* J Rous'd up the soldier ere the morning star' ; | While throng'd the citizens with terror dumbv, | Or whispering, with white lips, — I' 7 ' "The foe! | They come*! I they come' !" ' PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 213 l And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose*! j 2 The war-note of Lochief, j which Albyn's hills | Have hear<£i,| ant/ heard too, have her Saxon foes* : — j How in the noon of nightf thai pibroch thrills, | Savage, and shrill ! | But with the breath which fills j Their mountain-pipe, | so fill the mountaineers^ | With the fierce native daring | which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years^ ; | And Even's, |Don aid's fame, | rings in each clansman's ears^ ! | And Ardennes waves above them Aer green leaves', | Dewy with nature's tear-drops, | as they pass v , | Grieving, if aughi inanimate e'er grieves, | O'er the unreturning brave v , — | alas ! | Ere evening to be trodden Me the grass* l | Which now beneath' them, | but above shall grow, | In its nexp verdure, | when this fiery mass J Of living valour, | rolling on the foe, | And burning with high hope, | shall moulder cold, ano?low v .| LasZ noon beheld them full of lusty life' ; | LasZ eve, in Beauty's circle proudly gay* ; j The midnight brought the signal sounds of strife* ; | The morn,|the marshalling in arms', — | the day, | Battle's magnificently-stern arrayv ! j The thunder-clouds close o'er* it, | which when rent, \ The earth is cover'd thic& with otl^er clay Which her own clay shall cover, | heap'd and pen^, | Rider, and horse*, — J friend, | foe v , — | in one red burial blenZ v ! | MARCO BOZZARIS. a (halleck.) At midnight, in his guarded tent, \ The TurA; was dreaming of the hour | When Greece, | her knee in suppliance bent, \ Should tremble at his pow^er : | * Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of modern Greece. He fell in a night attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site of the 214 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. In dreams, through camp, and court, he bore j The trophies of a conqueror ; | In dreams Ms song of trrumph heard ; a | Then , wore his monarch's 15 sig^e£-ring ; | Then , press'd tha£ monarch's throne*, — | a king ; | As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, J As Eden's gar*den c -bird. | l At midnight, in the forest-shades*, | 2 Bozzaris rang'd his Suliote bandx — | True as the steel of their tried blades', | Heroes in heart, and hand. | There had the Persian's thousands stood; | There had the glad earth drun/*; their blood*, | On old Platae'a's day — | And now , there breath'd that haunted air, | The sons of sires who con quer'd there, | With arm to stride, | and soul to dare*, | As quicA;, as far' as they. | *An hour pass'd on\ d — | 2 the Turk awo&e* — | Tha£ bright dream was his las^ ; | He wofte to hear his sentries shriek* — | ffii To arms' ! |they come* !|theGreeA'! the fff GreeJi !"| He woke to diev midst flame, and smo/ce*, | And shout, and groan, and sa'bre-stro/re, | And death-shots falling thick, and fas£, | As lightnings from the moun'tain-cloud ; j And heard, with voice as trum*pe£-loud, | Bozzaris cheer his band> : | fff " Stri/te till the last arm'd foe expiresx ; | Stri/ce for your al'tars, and your fires* ; | Stri/ce for the green graves of your siresv — j God', and your native land' !" | ancient Plataea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were — "To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain." a Triumph heard ; not tri-um'furd. b M6n'narks. c Gar 'dn. d Pass'd on ; not puss-ton'. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 215 They fought Me brave^ men — | long, and well* ; | They pil'd tha£ ground with Moslem slakiv; j They conquer'd — j hut Bozzaris fell, | Bleeding at every vein. | His few surviving comrades* , saw , | His smile when rang their proud hurrah v , | And the red field was worn ; | Then saw in death Ms eyelids close , | Calmly, as to a night's repose^ | LiA-e flowers at set of sun . | 'Come to the bridal J chanrber, Death ! | Come to the mother's, | when she feels | For the firs2 time, | her firs^-born's breath — J Come when the blessed seals 1 That close the pestilence, are broA'e, | And crowded cities wail its stroAe v — | Come in consumption's ghastly form, | The earthquake shocA;', | the ocean-stornr — | 2 Come when the heart beats high, and warm, j With banquet-song, ] and dance', | and wine v — | *And thou art ter rible — | the tear', | The groan/, | the knell', | the pall', | the bier* ; | And all we know, j or dream', ) or fear | Of agony, | are thine. | A But to the hero, | 3 when his sword ] Has won the battle for the free, | 4 Thy voice sounds like a proph et's word ; | 2 And in its hollow tones, are heard | 4 The thanks of mill' ions yet to be v . | 3 Come when 7?is task of fame' is wrought — | Come with her lau x rel-leaf, | blood^bougto — | Come in her crowmmg hour — | and then j 2 Thy sunken eye's unearthly light \ To him is welcome as the sight \ Of sky, and stars to prison'd men v : ] K&m'rkdi , saw; not cum'rades-saw, b Brl'dal; not brl'dle. 216 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 3 Thy grasp is welcome as the hand | Of brother in a foreign land* ; | Thy summons, welcome as the cry | That told the Indian Isles' were nigh [ To the world-seeking Gemoese, | When the land-wind, ] from woods of palm, | And orange-groves, ] and fields of balm, | Blew o'er the Haytian seas v . | 4 Bozzaris ! | with the stori'd brave, j Greece nurtur'd in her glory's time, | Rest' thee — | 2 there is no prouder grave, j Even in her own proud clinre. | She wore no funeral weeds for thee*, | Nor bade the dar& hearse wave its plume | Li/te torn branch from death's leafless tree., | In sorrow's pomp, and pageantry, | The heartless luxury of the tomb . | Bu£ she remembers thee as one | Long lov'd x , | and for a season gone* ; | For thee Aer poet's lyre is wreath'dv ; | Her marble wrought, | her music breath'd, ; | For thee she rings the birtlr-day bellsv ; | Of thee her babes' firs* lisping tells : | For thine her evening prayer is said | At palace-couch, and cottage-bed; | Her soldier, closing with the foe, | Gives, for thy sake, a deadlier blow v ; | His plighted maiden, when she fears | For him, the joy of her young years, | Thinks of thy* fate, j and checks her tears* — I And she, the mother of thy boys*, | Though in her eye, and faded cheeA: | Is read the grief she will not spea/t ( , | The mem'ry of her buried joysv, | And even she who gave thee births I Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 217 TalA; of thy doom without a sigh* : | "^For thou ari Freedom's now, | and FameV; | One of the few, | the immortal names, | Thai were not born to die v . | (CAMPBELL.) Wizard and Lochieh Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day' | When the Lowlands shall meei thee in battle array* ! | For a field of the dead rushes red on my sigh*', | And the clans of Culloden are scatter'd in fighix : | They rally, ] they bleed', | for their kingdom and crowns { Wo, wo to the riders thai trample them down^ ! | Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slaim, j And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain . | Bui harA;* / | through the fasi-flashing lightning of war, | Whai steed to the deseri flies frantic and far' ? | 'T is thine v , Oh Glenullin ! | whose bride shall awaii', | "Like a love-lighted watch v -fire, all nighi at the gaie*. | A steed comes at morming — | no ri'der is there ; j Bui its bridle is red with the sign of despair^. | Weep', Albin ! | to death, and captivity led/ | O weep" ! j bui thy tears cannoi number the dead* ; | For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave', | Culloden thai reeks with the blood of the brave x . | LOCHIEL. Go, preach to the cow ard, | thou deatlr-telling seer ! | Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear, | Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sighi, | This man tie, | to cover the phantoms of frighi v . j WIZARD. Ha v ! | laugh'si thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn' ? | Proud bird of the mountain, I thy plume shall be torn! I 19 21S PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Say x , | rush'd the bold eagle, exultingly forth', j From Ais home in the dark-rolling clouds of the north'? J Lo! the death-sho* of foemen out-speeding, he rode | Compan ioniess, | bearing destruction abroad ; | Bu* down let Aim stoop from Ais havoc on high v ! j Ah ! home' le* Mm speed, j for the spoiler is nigh. | Why flames the far sunrmi* ? j Why shoo/ to the bias* ; Those embers, | like stars from the firmamen*, cast? | 'T is the fire-shower of ruin, | all dreadfully driven | From Ais eyTy, | thai beacons the darkness of heav n. | O crested Lochiel ! \ the peerless in might, \ Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, | Heaven's fire is around thee to bias* and to burnv ; | Return to thy dwelling : | all lonely retu?*n ! ] For the blackness of astres shall mark where it stood, 1 And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing broody / j False Wizard, avaun*7 | I have marshall'd my clan* : | Their swords are a thousand; | their bosoms areonev: | They are true to the las* of their blood, and their breath 1 , | And like reap ers, descend to the harves* of death . | Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shocA7 | Let Aim dash his proud foam liAe a wave on the rock! | But wo to his kindred, | and wo to Ais cause', | When Afbin Aer claymore indignantly draws ; | When Aer bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, | Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud; | All plaided, and plum'd in their tartan array | Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day K ! | For, darA, and despairing, my sigh* I may seal, I Ye* man canno* cover wha* God would reveal : | 'T is the sunse* of life gives me mystical lore, | And coming events cas* their shadows before. | I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring | With the bloodhounds tha* barA for thy fugitive king\ PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 219 Lo ! anointed by heaven with the vials of wrath, | Behold where he flies on his desolate path; ! | Now in darkness, and billows, he sweeps from my sigh^ ; | Rise>! Rise'! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight / — j ? Tis fin ish'd.— | Their thunders arehush'donthe moors v ;j Culloden a is los/% | and my country deplores^. | But where is the iron-bound pris oner ? j Where x ? | For the red eye of battle is shut in despair . | Says mounts he the ocean-wave, | banish'd, forlorn', | Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding, and torn' 1 \ Ah ! no- ; | for a dark er departure is near ; | The war-drum is muffled, | and blac& is the bier v ; J His death-bell is toll ing ; | Oh ! mercy, dispel | Yon sigh£, that it freezes my spirit to tell* ! | Life flutters, convuls'd in his quivering limbs, j And Ais blood-streaming nostril in ag*ony swims. | Accurs'd be the fagots that blaze at his feet, \ Where his heart 1 shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat, | With the smofte of its ashes to poison the gale | LOCHIEL. Down', soothless b insult N er ! | I trus£ not the tata ; | For never shall Albin , a destiny meet I So black with dishonour — | so foul with retread. ] Tho' his perishing ranks should be strow'd in their gore, Li/ce o cean-weeds , heap'd on the surf-beaten shore*, | Lochiel, untainted by flight, or by chains', | While the kindling of life in Ms bosom remains, | Shall victor exu.lt, | or in death be laid low, J With his back to the field, J and his feet to the foe* ! | And, leaving in battle no blot on his name, | LooA; proudly to heaven | from the death-bed of fame. * Cftl-16'd£n ; not CM-16'dn. b Sbth'l&s. 220 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. THE HERMIT. (beattie.) At the closo of the day, when the hamlet is still, | And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove ; | When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, ) And noughi but the nightingale's song^ in the grovex : | It was thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, | While his harp rung symphonious, | a her mii began ; | No more with Aimself, or with nature ai war, | He thought as a sage x , a | though he felt as a man b . | Ah ! why all abandon'd to darkness, and wo s 'I \ Why, lone Philomela, thai languishing fall ? | For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, | And sorrow , no longer thy bosom inthrah | Bui, if pity inspire thee, | renew' the sad lay ; | Mourn, sweetesicomplainer,|man^ calls thee to mourn ;| O soothe him whose pleasures like thine' , pass away; | Full quickly they pass — | hut M they never return. | Now ( gliding remote on the verge of the sky, | The moon half-extinguish'd, her cres^ceni displays ; | But lately I mark'd , | when majestic on high\ | She shone*, | and the planets were lost in her blaze. | Roll , on', thou fair , orb, | and with gladness pursue | The path thai conduces thee to splendour again^ : | Bui manV faded glory | whai change shall renew v 1 | Ah fooF ! to exuli v in a glory so vain ! I 'T is nighi N — I and the landscape is lovely no mora : | I mourn ; 1 bui, ye woodlands, I mourn noi for you v ; | For morn is approaching, your charms to restore*, | Perfum'd with fresh fragrance,andglittering with dew.J Nor yei for the ravage of winder I mourn ; | Kind Nature, the embryo blossom will save* : I Bui when shall spring , visii the mouldering urn* ! I O when shall day , dawn , on the nighi of the gravej ! * Thought as a sage; not thaw'taz-zer sage. b Felt as a man; not fel'taz-zer man. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 221 'T was thus ( by the glare of false science betray'd, | That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind; | My thoughts w r ont to roam from shade onward to shade, | Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. | O pity, grea* Father of Ligh*, | then , I cried, | Thy creature who fain would no* wander from theex ! j Lo, humbled in dus*, I relinquish my pride N : | From doub*, and from darkness,! thou only, cans* free v .[ And darkness, and doub* are now flying away x ; | No longer , I roam in conjecture forlorn* : | So breaks on the trav eller, j fain* and astray, j The brigh*, and the balmy effulgence of morn v . | See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in tri umph descending, | And Nature all glowing in Eden's firs* bloonr ! | On the cold cheeA; of Death, | smiles and ro v ses are blending,| And Beauty, immor tal, j awakes from the tomb x . | DIALOGUE BETWEEN KING EDWARD, AND THE EARL OF WARWICK. [Translated from the French, by Dr. Thomas Franklin.] Edw. Le* me have no intruders ; | above all, Keep Warwick from my sigh* — ] [Enter Warwtck.] War. Behold /?im here v — ] No welcome gues*, it seems, | unless I asA: My lord of Suffolk's leave — | there was a time | When Warwick wanted no* his aid | to gain Admission here. | Ed. There was a time, perhaps, | When Warwick more desired', ] and more f deserved v i*.| War. Nev er ; | I 've been a foolish, faithful slave v ; j All my bes* yearss j the morning of my life 1 , | Have been devoted to your service : | wha* Are now the fruits' ? j Disgrace^, and infamy — | My spotless name, | which never ye* the breath Of calumny had tainted, | made the mock 19* KB PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. For foreign fools to carp aZ ; j but 'tis fit, ] Who trus* in princes, | should be thus rewarded. | Ed. I though/, my lord, | I had full well repaid Your services | with hon ours, | wealth', I and power Unlimited: | thy all-directing hand \ Guided in se ere/ | every latent wheel Of government, | and mov'rf the whole machine^ : | Warwic/c was all in x all, | and powerless Edward | Stood like a ci 'pher in the great account War. Who gave that cipher worths! and seated thee On England's throne' ? | Thy undistinguish'd name | Had rotted in the dus£ from whence it sprang', I And moulder'd in oblivuon, j had not Warwick | Dug from its sordid mine | the useless ore', | And stamp'd it with a dradem. | Thou knowes/ This wretched country, | doom'd, perhaps, ]\ke Rome', | To fall by its own self-destroying hand, | Tos£ for so many years ] in the rough sea Of civil discord', | but for me had per'ish'd. j In tha£ distressful hour, | I seiz'd the helm', | Bade the rough waves subside in peaces | and steer'd Your shatter'd vessel safe into the harbour. You may despise, perhaps, | tha£ useless aid Which you no longer \vanZ x ; ) but know, proud youth, | He who forgets a friend, | deserves a foe\ j Ed. Know 7 , too, | reproach for benefits receiv'd, '. Pays every deb/ x , j and cancels obligation. j War. Why, thai indeed is fru v gal honesty, | A thrifty, saving knowledge : | when the debt Grows burdensome, | and cannot be discharg'd, | A sponge will wipe out alh, | and cost you nothing. | Ed. When you have counted o'er the numerous train Of mighty gifts \ your bounty lavish'd on me, | You may remember next | the injuries Which I have idone you ; ] \et me know them all*, ] And I will make you ample satisfaction. | War. Thou onus/* not : |thou has/ robb'd me of a jewel I It is not in thy power to restore : | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 223 I was the firsi, | shall future annals say, | Thai broke the sacred bond of public trusi | And mutual confidence; | ambassadors, In after times, | mere instruments, perhaps, i Of venal statesmen, | shall recall my name | To witness thai they wani not an exarn pie, | And plead my guilt | to sanctify their own. | Amidsi the herd of mercenary slaves Thai hauni your couri, | could none be found bui War- wick, | To be the shameless herald of a lie' ? | Ed. And wouldsi thou turn the vile reproach on me' ? J If I have broke my faith, j and stain'd the name Of England, j than& thy own pernicious counsels | That urged^ me to it, j and extorted from me | A cold conseni to whai my heari abhorr'd . War. I 've been abus'd v , | insufted, | and be tray 'dv ; [ My injured honour cries aloud for vemgeance, | Her wounds will never close. ! [ Ed. These gusis of passion I Will but inflame^ them ; | If I have been righi Inform'd, my lord, | besides these dangerous scars Of bleeding honour, j you have other wounds As deep*, | though noi so fa^tal : | such, perhaps, i As none bui fair Elizabeth can cure, j War. Eli'zabeth! | Ed. Nay, start' noi — | I have cause To wonder mosi^ : | I little thoughi, indeed, | When Warwick told me, I mighi learn to love, j He was himself so able to instruct me: | Bui I 've discover'd alb — | War. And so have V — | Too well I know thy breach of friendship theres | Thy fruitless, base endeavours to supplant me. | Ed. I scorn ii, Sir — | Elizabeth hath charmss | And I have equal righi with you' to admire^ them ; j Nor see I aughi so godli/ce in the forms | So all-commanding in the name of Warwick, I 224 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Tha£ he alone should revel in the charms Of beauty, | and monopolize perfection. | I knew not of your love. War. 'Tis false! | You knew it alh, | and meanly took occasion, | Whilst I was busied in the noble office, | Your Grace thought fit to honour me withal, | To tamper with a wea&, unguarded wo man, j And basely steal a treasure | Which your king dom could not purchase. | Ed. How know you tha^ ? \ but be it as it may x , ' I had a righ^, | nor will I tamely yield My claim to hap piness, | the privilege To choose the partner of my throne* : J It is a branch of my prerogvative. ] War. Prerogative ! | what 's tha^ ? | the boasi of ty - rants, | A borrow'd jew el, | glittering in the crown With spe cious lustre, | lent but to betray^ | You had it, Sir, | and hold v it, | from the people. Ed. And therefore do I prize* it : \I would guard Their liberties, | and they shall strengthen mine* : | But when proud faction, and her rebel crew | Insuk their sovereign, | trample on his laws', | And bid defiance to his power, | the people, In justice to themselves*, | will then defend His cause', | and vin dicate the rights they gave. | War. Go to your darling people, then ; | for soon, If I mistake not, | 't will be needful ; | try Their boasted zeal*, | and see if one v of them | Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause, | If I forbid* him. | Ed. Is it so, my lord' ? \ Then maii my words v : | I 've been your slave too long\ | And you have ruled me with a rod of iron ; | But hencefortli know, proud peer, 1 1 am thy mas'ter, | And will**be so : J the king who delegates PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 225 His power to others' hands, | but ill deserves The crowir he wears. | War. Loo& well then to your own 1 : | It sits but loosely on your headx ; | for, knows | The man who injur'd Warwick, ] never pass ? d Unpunish'd yet. | Ed. Nor he who threaten'd Ed v ward — | You may repent it, Sir — | my guards' there — | seize This trartor, | and convey him to the Tow er — | There let him learn obedience. | SPEECH ON THE SUBJECT OF EMPLOYING THE INDIANS TO FIGHT AGAINST THE AMERICANS. NOV. 18, 1777.* (LORD CHATHAM.) I cannot, my lords, 1 1 wilF not | join in congratula- tion I on misfortune and disgrace^ | This, my lords, | is a perilous, and tremendous moment : | it is not a time for adulation : | the smoothness of flattery cannot save us I in this rugged and aw x ful crisis. | It is now neces- sary I to instruct the throne in the language of truths | We must, if possible, | dispel the delusion, and darkness which envehope it ; | and display in its full danger, and genuine colours, | the ruin which is brought to our doors\. j Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatua'tion ? | Can parliament be so dead to its dig- nity, and duty, I as to give its support to measures thus obtruded, and forced' upon it? | measures, my lords, | which have reduced this late flourishing empire | to scorn, and contempt . \ But yesterday, | and England might have stood against the world'; | now, none so poor as to do her revxerence ! | * Mr. Pitt delivered this speech in opposition to Lord Suffolk, who proposed in Parliament to employ the Indians against the Americans; and who had said, in the course of the debate, that they had a right to use all the means, that God and Nature had put into their hands, to conquer America. 226 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. The people whom we at firs£ despised as rebels, | but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, | are abetted against us, | supplied with every military store', | their interest consulted, | and their ambassadors entertained j by our inveterate ememy ; | and ministers do not j and dare' no* | interpose with dignity, or effect | The desperate state of our army abroad, | is, in part, known. | No man more highly esteems, and hon ours the English troops than L do : | I know their virtues, and their valour ; 1 1 know they can achieve any thing but impossibilities ; | and I know that the conquest of English America, | is x an impossibility : | you cannot, my lords, | you cannot, conquer America. | What is your present situation there ? | We do not know the worst ; | but we know j that in three cam- paigns | we have done nothing, and suffered much\. | You may swell every expenses | accumulate every as- sistance, | and extend your traffic to the shambles of every German des x pot | yet your attempts will be for ever vain and im potent ; | doubly so indeed | from this mercenary aid on which you rely v ; | for it irritates, to an incurable resentment | the minds of your adversa- ries, | to overrun them with the mercenary sons of ra- pine, and plunder, devoting them, and their possessions, , to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. | If I were an American, | as I am an Englishman, | while a foreign troop was landed in my country, | I nevxer would lay down my arms — | Nev v er ! | Nev er ! | Nev er ! | But my lords, | who is the man | that, in addition to the disgraces, and mischiefs of the war, | has dared to authorize, and associate to our arms | the tomahawk, and scalping-knife of the savage — | to call into civil- ized alliance, ] the wild, and inhuman inhabitant of the woods' — | to delegate to the merciless Imdian | the defence of disputed rights v , | and to wage the horrors of his" barbarous war | against our brethren? | My lords, | these enormities | cry aloud for redress, and punishment | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 227 Bui, my lords, | this barbarous measure has been de- fended, | noi only on the principles of policy, and neces- sity, | bui also on those of moral ity ; | " for it is per- fectly allowable," | says Lord Suffolk, | " to use all the means j thai God, and nature have put into our hands." | I am astonashed, | I am shocked', | to hear such princi- ples confessed^ ; | to hear them avowed in this house', | or in this country ! J My lords, | I did not intend to encroach so much on your attention ; | but I cannot repress my indignation : | I feel myself impelled' to spea&. | My lords, | we are called upon as members of this houses | as men', | as Christians, | to protest against such horrible barbar- ity — I " Thai God, and nature have put into our hands^ !" | Whai ideas of God, and nature | thai noble lord may entertain, | I know N noi ; | bui I know | thai such detestable principles | are equally abhorreni to religion, and humanity. | Whai* / | to attribuie the sacred sanction of God, and nature, j to the massacres of the Indian seal 'ping-knife! | to the cannibal savage, | torturing, | murdering, | and devouring his unhappy victims ! | Such notions shock every precepi of morality, | every feeling of humanity, | every sentimeni of honour. | These abominable prin- ciples, | and this more abominable avowal of them, | demand the mosi decisive indignation. | I call upon thai righi reverend, | and this mosi learn'- ed bench, | to vindicaie the religion of their God*, | to suppori the justice of their country. | I call upon the bishops j to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawns | upon the judges | to interpose the purity of their ermine, | to save us from this pollution. | I call upon the honour of your lordships | to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, | and to maintain your owir. | I call upon the spirii, and humanity of my coun'try, | to vin- dicaie the national character : | I invoke the genius of the British Constitution. | To send forth the merciless Indian, | thirsting for 228 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. blood v / | against whom' ? | your protestanZ brethren ! | To lay waste their country, | to desolate their dweh- lings, | and extirpate their race, and name', | by the aid, and instrumentality | of these ungovernable savages. | Spain can no longer boas* pre-em inence in barbarity. | She armed Aerself with bloods-hounds | to extirpate the wretched natives of Mexico ; | we, more ruthless, | loose these^ dogs of war | against our countrymen in Amer'- ica, | endeared to us | by every tie tha£ can sanctify humanity. | I solemnly call upon your lordships, | and upon every order of men in the state', | to stamp upon this infa- mous procedure, 1 the indelible stigma of the public ab- horrence. | More particularly, | I call upon the vene- rable prelates of our relrgion, | to do away this iniquity;] let them perform a lustration | to purify the country | from this deep, and deadjy sin. | APOSTROPHE TO LIGHT. (MILTON.) Hail ! holy Ligh^, j offspring of Heaven, firs* born', | Or of the Eternal co-eternal beam*, | May I express thee unblam'd' ? | since God* , is ligh*', And never but in unapproaclred lights | Dwek from eternity, ] dwek then in thee*, | Bright effluence of bright essence in^create ; | Or hear's* thou rather, | pure ethereal stream', | "Whose fountain who shall tell ? I Before the sun x , | Before the heav''ns, thou wer£, | and a* the voice Of God, | as with a man'tle, | dids* invest The rising world of wafers, | dar/t, and deep,, \ Won from the void, and formless infinite. I Thee I revisit now with bolder wing x , I Escap'd the Stygian pool, I though long detain'd In tha£ obscure sojourn, ! while in my flight, | Through utter, and through middle darkness borne, | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 229 With other notes than to the Orphean lyre, [ I sung of chaos, and eternal nighft ; | Taught by the heavenly muse J to venture down The dark descend, | and up to re-ascend, | Though hard, and rare* : I thee I revisit safes I And feel thy sovereign, vital lamp* ; | but thou Revisits not these eyes* | that roll in vain, | To find thy piercing ray, I and find no dawn* ; | So thic/<; a drop serene* I hath quench'd their orbss | Or dim suffusion veil'd . | Yet not the more | Cease , I , to wander where the muses haunZ, J Clear springs | or shady grove', | or sunny hills I Sm'it with the love of sacred song* ; | hut chief Thee, Sion, I and the flow'ry brooks beneath, | That wash thy hallow'd feet, and ''warbling flow, I Nightly I vis At : j nor sometimes forged Those other two, j equall'd with me , in fate', | ( x So were I equall'd with them in renown^) I 2 Blind Thanryris, | and blind Maeon ides, I .Aid Tyre'sias, and Phin'eas, | prophets old* : | Then feed on thoughts | that voluntary move Harmonious^ numbers ; | as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, ! and in shadiest covert hid, I Tunes her nocturnal notes. ] Thus with the year, Seasons return ; I hut not to me returns Days I or the sweeZ approach of e'ens or mom — | Or sigh* of vernal bloom', I or summer's roses Or flocks', ! or herdss ! or human face divine* ; | *hut cloud instead, I and ever-during dar& x Surrounds* me, I 2 from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, I and for the book of knowledge fair, | Presented with a universal blan& Of nature's works*, | to me expung'd and raz'ds 1 a Drop serene, gutta serena, a disease of the eye, attended with loss of vision, the organ retaining its natural transparency. 20 230 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. And wisdom, at one entrance, quite shut out . | So much the rather thou, celestial Lighi, | Shine imward, I and the mind through all Aer powers Irradiate : ! there 1 plant eyes?, | all mist from thence | Purge, and disperse^, \ that I may see, and tell | Of things invisible to mortal sigh^. j HYDER ALL [Extract from Mr. Burke's Speech on the Nabob of Arcot*s Debts.] Among the victims to this magnificent plan of uni- versal plunder, | pursued by the company in India, | so w r orthy of the heroic avarice of the projectors, | you /jave all heard | (and he has made himself to be well remembered) | of an Indian Chief, called Hyder Ali Khan. | This man possessed the western, | as the com- pany under the Nabo6 of Arcoi, | does the eastern division of the Carnatic* I It was among the leading measures in the design of this cabal | (according to their own emphatic language) | to extir pate this Hyder Ali. | They declared the Nabob of Arcot to be his sove v reign, | and himself to be a rebel, | and publicly invested their instrument | with the sovereignty of the kingdom of Mysore. | Bui their victim was not of the passive kind: | they were soon obliged I to conclude a treaty of peace, and close alliance w r ith this rebel, j at the gates of Madras. | Both before, and since v that treaty, | every principle of policy I pointed out this power as a natural allrance; | and, on his pari, | it was courted by every sort of ami- * "The Carnatic is that portion of southern India which runs along the coast of Coromandel. Its length is 500 miles, and its breadth from 50 to 100, and it belongs to the East India Company. Hyder Ali and the Nabob of Arcot were neighbouring princes, — but the Nabob held his power from the Company. The Company lent themselves to the Nabob's schemes of ambition, the object of which was (as usual), to enlarge his own dominion at the expense of that of Hyder Ali." a Plant eyes; not plantize. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 231 cable office. I But the cabinet council of English cred- itors | would not suffer their Nabob of Arcoi to sign' the treaty, | nor even to give to a prince 1 , | at least his equal, I the ordinary titles of respect, and courtesy. | From that time forward, I a continued plot' was car- ried on within the divan, | black, and white 1 , I of the Nabob of ArcoZ', I for the destruction of this Hyder Ali. | As to the outward members of the double, | or rather treble government of Madras, | which had signed the treaty, | they were always prevented by some over- ruling influence I (which they do not describe, | but which cannot be misunderstood) I from performing wha* justice, and interest | combined so evidently to enforce. | When at length Hyder Ali | found that he had to do with men | who either would sign no convention, | or whom no treaty, and no signature could binds I and who were the determined enemies of human intercourse itself, | he decreed to make the country I possessed by these incorrigible, and predestinated criminals, | a me- morable example to mankind. | He resolved, | in the gloomy recesses of a mind, capacious of such things, ] to leave the whole Carnatic | an everlasting monument of vengeance, | and to put perpetual desolation, | as a barrier between him, and those | against whom, | the faith which holds the moral elements of the world to- gether, | was no protection. | He became at length I so confident of his force, | and so collected in his mighi, I thai he made no secret what- ever | of his dreadful resolution. | Having terminated his disputes with every enemy, and every rival, I who buried their mutual animosities | in their common in- terest against the creditors of the Nabob of Arcoi, | he drew from every quarter, I whatever a savage ferocity | could add' to his new rudiments in the art of destruc- tion ; ] and, compounding all the materials of fu'ry, j hav'oc, and desola'tion, I into one blacA; cloud, 1 he hung for a while on the declivities of the mountains. | Whilst the authors of all these evils, | were idly, and stupidly 232 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. gazing on this menacing meteor | (which blackened all the horizon) | it suddenly burs^, j and poured down the whole of its contents I upon the plains of the Carnatic. | Then ensued a scene of wo 4 ; I the like of which no eye had seen, | nor heart conceived, I and which no tongue can adequately tell. | All the horrors of w T ar, before known, or heard x of, | were mer cy to thai new havoc. | A storm of universal fire v , I blasted every fields I consumed every house/ | and destroyed every teixhple. | The miserable inhabitants, I flying from their flaming villages, I in part, were slaughtered ; ! others, | without regard to sex', to age', to rank', or sacredness of function — | fathers torn from their cmTdren, | hus- bands, from wives*, I enveloped in a whirlwind of cav'- alry, | and amidst the goading spears of dri'vers, | and the trampling of pursuing horses, I were swept into captivity I in an unknown, and hostile land. I Those who were able to evade this tempest, | fled to the walled cities ; I but escaping from fire', sword', and exile, I they fell into the jaws of famine. | For eighteen months', I without intermission, | this destruction raged from the gates of Madras I to the gates of.Tanjom; | and so completely did these mas- ters in their art, | Hyder Ali, and his more ferocious son, | absolve themselves of their impious vow, I tha£, when the British armies traversed, as they did, | the Carnatic for hundreds of miles in all directions, I through the whole line of their march, | they did not see one manx, I not one womaiv, | not one child, I not one four- footed beast' I of any description whatever. | One dead, uniform silence M | reigned over the whole region. | DARKNESS. (BYRON.) I had a dream I which was not alf a dream — | The bright sun was extinguish'd ; I and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 233 Rayless, and pathless ; | and the icy earth j Swung blind and blaek'ning in the moonless air . | Morn came, and wenP, I and came, and brought no day* ;| And men forgot their pas'sions | in the dread Of this their desolation ; | and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for ligh£*. | And they did live by watch'-fires ; | and the thrones, | The palaces of crowned kings* — I the huts', \ The habitations of all things which dwell*, | Were burn'd for beacons. | Cities were consum'd* ; | And men were gather'd round their blazing homes | To looA; once more into each other's face^ | Happy were they | who dwelt within the eye Of the volca noes, | and their mountain-torch. | A fearful hope | was all the world contain'd ; | Forests were set on fire x ; | and hour by hour They fell and fa*ded — | and the crackling trunks | Extinguish'd with a crash*, — I and all was blac&. ) The brows of men, | by the despairing lighz, | Wore an unearthly as pec£, | as by fits The flashes fell upon them. | Some lay down, | And hid their eyes, I and wepZ* ; | and some did rest Their chins j upon their clinched hands, I and smiPd^ ; j And others hurried to and fro, I and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, I and look'd up With mad disquietude I on the dull sky*, | The pall of a past world ; | and then again With curses, | cas£ them down upon the d\ist\ j And gnash'd their teeth*, I and howl'd . | The wild birds shriek'd, 1 And, terrified, I did flutter on the ground, | And flap their useless wingS\ ; | the wildest brutes' | Came tame, and trenrulous ; I and vipers crawl'd, | And twin'd themselves among the multitude, I Hissing, but stingjess. I They were slain for food^ ; | And war | which, for a moment, was no more, I 20 * 234 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Did glut' /timself again : | a meal was bough* With blood* ; I and each sa* sullenly apart, I Gorging himself in gloom s . | No love' was left ; | All earth was bu* one thought ; | and tha* was death, • Immediate, and inglo rious ; I and the pang Of famine I fed upon all emtrails. I Men Died, | and their bones were tombless as their fleslr ; | The meager by the meager were devour'dv. I E'en dogs' assail'd their masters ; I all, save one, | And he was faithful to. a corse, | and kepi The birds, and beasts, I and famish'd men at bay', | Till hunger clung them, | or the dropping dead | Lured their lanA; jaws^. I Himself sough* ou* no* food, j Bu* with a piteous, and perpetual moan, | And a quic&, desolate cry, | licking the hand Which answer'd no* with a caress, | he died . | The crowd was famish'd by degrees^ ; | bu* two 1 Of an enormous city, I did survive^ ; | And they were ememies. I They me* beside The dying embers of an altar-place, | Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things | For an unholy usage : I they rak'd up, | And, shivering, scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands, | The feeble aslres, ! and their feeble breath | Blew for a little life, I and made a flame | Which was a mockery. | Then they lifted up Their eyes as i* grew lighter', [ and beheld Each other's as pec*s — | saw,| and shriek'd', | and died, ; | E'en of their mutual hideousness they died, | Unknowing who he was | upon whose brow | Famine had written fiend . j The world was void* ; | The populous, and the powerful was* a lump, | * Some, being anxious to correct what is already right, have substituted were for was. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 235 Sea x sonless, I herbJess, | treeless, | man less, | life Jess — | A \ump of death x — I a chaos of hare? clay;. | The rivers, lakes', and ocean, I all stood still ; | And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths^. | Ships, sai'lorless, | lay rotting on the sea x ; | And their mas^s fell down pieces-meal ; 1 as they dropp'd,| They slep£ on the abyss, without a surge . — j The waves were dead x ; I the tides were in their grave^ — | The moon, their mistress, | had expired before v ; | The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air ; | And the clouds perish'd. — I Darkness had no need Of aid from theiiL — | she n was the u x niverse. | (ADDISON.) Lucius, Sempronius, and Senators. Semp. Rome still survives in this assembl'd senate ! ] Let us remember we are Ca to's friends, | And acf like men who claim tha£ glorious title, j Luc. Cato will soon be here*, i and open to us The occasion of our meeting. I Har^ ! I he comes v ! | [Flourish of Trumpets. May all the guardian gods of Rome direct him! | \Enter Cato.] Cato. Fathers, we once again are met in council — J Caesar's approach has summon'd us together ; | And Rome attends Aer fate from our resolves^. | How T shall we trea£ this bold aspiring mair ? | Success still follows him, \ and backs his crimes^ : | Pharsalia gave him Rome' ; ! E x gyp£ has since Receiv'd his yoke: ! and the whole Nile' is Caesar's. | Why should I mention Juba's overthrow, | And Scipio's deaths 1 1 Numidia's burning sands Still smo&e with bloods ! 'T is time we should decree Wha£ course to take. ! Our foe ad van ces on us, | And envies us e'en Libva's sultry des erts. 230 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Fathers, I pronounce your thoughts 1 — | are they still fix/| To hold it out, | and figh* it to the last' ? | Or are your hearts subdu'd at length, | and wrought By time, and ill success, I to a submission? | Sempronius, spea&. | Semp. My voice is still for war. | Can a Roman senate long debate | Which of the two to choose — | slav'ry, or death' ? I No s — | let us rise at onces | gird on our swords', | And, at the head of our remaining troops, | Attac/e the foe v , I breaA; through the thicA; array | Of his throng'd legions, I and charge home* upon him: | Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, | May reach his hear^, I and free the world from bondage. I Rises fathers, I rise* ! | 'T is Rome v demands your help; | Rise, and revenge her slaughter'd citizens, | Or share their fate* ! I The corpse of half 7^er senate, | Manure the fields of Thessaly, | while we Sit here | deliberating in cold debates, | Whether to sacrifice our lives to honour, | Or wear them out in servitude, and chains*. | Rouse up x , for shame' ! | our brothers of Pharsalia i Voint at their wounds*, I and cry aloud — I to bat tie ! | Great Pompey's shade | complains that we are slow n ; | And Scipio's ghos£ | walks unreveng'd' amongst us ! | Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal | Transport thee thus beyond the bounds of reason: ) True fortitude | is seen in great exploits | That justice warrants, I and that wisdom guides^ — | All else is tow'ring frenzy and distraction. | Are not the lives of those I w T ho draw the sword In Rome's defence, I intrusted to our care ? | Should we thus lead them to a field of slaughter, | Might not the impartial world, I with reason, say, | We lavish'd at our deaths | the blood of thousands, | To grace our fall, | and make our ruin glorious 1 \ Lucius, | we next would know what's your' opinion. \ Luc. My thoughts, I must confess, |are turn'd on peace.) PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 237 Already have our quarrels I fill'd the world With widows, and with orphans : | Scythia mourns Our guilty wars, ] and earth's remotest regions | Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome, — | 'T is time to sheathe^ the sword, I and spare mankind, j It is no* Csesar, | hut the gods', my fathers, | The gods declare against^ us, ! and repel Our vain attempts. I To urge the foe to battle, I Prompted by blind revenge, and wild despair, | Were to refuse the awards of prov'idence, a j And not to res* in heaven's determination. | Already have we shown our love to Rome, — | Now , let us show submission to the gods. | We took up arms, | no* to revenge' ourselves, | But free the common wealth : i when this end fails, | Arms have no further use. I Our country's cause, | Tha* drew our swords, jnow wrests themfrom our hands,| And bids us no* delight in Roman blood, | Unprofitably shed. | Wha* men could do, | Is done already : | heaven, and earth will witness, | If Rome mus* fall, | tha* we are innocent | Semp. This smooth discourse, and mild behaviour, I oft Conceal a traitor — | something whispers me All is no* righ& — I Cato, beware of Lucius. I [Aside to Cato. Cato. Let us be neither rash nor diffident — | Immod'rate valour swells into a faul* x ; I And fear, admitted into public councils, | Betrays like treason. | Let us shun them both. | Fathers, | I canno* see that our affairs Are grown thus desp'ra*e — I we have bul x warks b round us : | Within our walls, | are troops, inured to toil In Afric's hea*, I and season'd to the sum — | Numidia's spacious kingdom lies behind' us, | Ready to rise at its young prince's call, j a Pr&v'6-d£ns ; not prov'ur-dunce. b Bul'wftrks, 238 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. While there is hope, I do not distrust the gods* ; | But wa.it. at leas£, till Caesar's near approach j Force' us to yield. | 'T will never be too late | To sue for chains, | and own a conqueror. | Why should Rome fall a moment ere her time* ? | No*, | let us draw her term of freedom out | In its full length, 1 ant/ spin it to the las^ — | So shall we gain still one* day's liberty : | And let me perish, I but in Cato's judgment, j A day*, | an hour', I of virtuous liberty, I Is worth a whole eternity in bondage. I [Enter Marcus.] Marc. Fathers, this moment, as I watch'd the gate, | Lodg'd on my oost, I a her aid is arriv'd From Caesar's camp* ; I and with Mm, comes ok/ De cius,| The Roman knight — I he carries in Ais looks Impatience, I ant/ demands to speaft with Ca*to. | Cato. By your permission, fathers — | bid Aim enter. I [Exit Marcus. Decius was once my friend* ; I but other prospects Have loos'd those ties, I and bound Aim fas* to C83*sar. | His message may determine our resolves. | [Enter Decius.] Dec. Caesar sends health to Ca'to. j Cato. Could he send it To Cato's slaughter's? friends, I it would be welcome. | Are not your orders to address the senate 1 \ Dec. My business is with Ca'to. | Caesar sees The straits to which you 're driven ; | and, as he knows Cato's high worth, I is anxious for your life. | Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome'. | Would he save Cato, I bid h\n\ spare 7ns country. | Tell your dictator this* — I and tell //im too, I Cato Disdains' a life | which he has power to offer, j Dec. Rome, and her senators submit to Caesar ; | Her generals, and her consuls are no more, | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 239 Who checks his conquests, | and denied his triumphs. | Why will not Ca'to be this Csesar's friend? | Cato. Those very reasons thou hasZ urg'd v , forbid it. | Dec. Cato, I have orders to expostulate, | And reason with you, | as from friend to friend ; | ThinA: on the storm tha£ gathers o'er your head, | And threatens ev'ry hour to burs^ upon it ; \ Still may you stand high in your country's hon ours, — | Do but comply, | and make your peace with Caesar, I Rome will rejoice', I and casZ its eyes on Cato, | As on the sec v ond of mankind. | Cato. No more^ — | I must not thin&' of life on such conditions. | Dec. Csesar is well acquainted with your vir'tues, | And therefore sets this value on your life. | Let Mm bu£ know the price 1 of Cato's friendship, | And name your terms. | Cato. Bid Aim disband his le^gions, | Restore the commonwealth to lib erty, | Submit his actions to the public cemsure, | And stand the judgment of a Roman senate, j Let him do this 1 , | and Cato is his friend. | Dec. Cato, the world talks loud x ly of your wis'dom — | Cato. Nay, more' — | though Cato's voice | was ne'er employ 'd To clear the guilty, | and to varnish crimes, | Myself will mount the rostrum in his faVour, | And strive to gain his pardon from the people. | Dec. A style like this becomes a con queror. | Cato. Decius, a style like this, becomes a Ro man. | Dec. What is a Roman , that is Caesar's foe x ? Cato. Greater than Caesar : | he's a friend to virtue. | Dec. Consider, Cato, you 're in TXtica, | And at the head of your own little seirate ; | You don'Z now thunder in the Capitol, | With all the mouths of Rome to second you. | Cato. LeZ him consider tha£, I who drives us hither. | 'T is Caesar's sword' has made Rome's senate little, I 240 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. And thinn'd its ranks. | Alas ! thy dazzled eye ; Beholds this man in a false glaring light, | Which conquest, and success' have thrown upon him : | Didsi thou bui view Aim righi, | thou 'dsi see him blacft With murder, | treason, I sac x rilege, | and crimes', | Thai stri/te my soul with horror but to name N them, j I know thou look'si on me, | as on a wretch | Besei with ills, | and cover'd with misfortunes ; | Bui M millions of worlds' | Should never buy me I to be liAe thai Caesar. | Dec. Does Cato send this answer bac/c to Caesar, j For all Ais generous cares, and proffer'd friendship ? | Cato. His cares for me, are insolent, and vain'. | Presumptuous man ! I the gods' take care of Cato. j Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul, I Lei him employ his care for these my friends'; | And make good use of his ill-gotten power, | By shelt'ring men much better than Aimself. | Dec. Your high unconquer'd heari | makes you forgei You are a man. I You rush on your destruction. | But I have done. I When I relate hereafter | The tale of this unhappy embassy, I All Rome , will be in tears. I [Exit. Semp. Cato, we than&' thee. | The mighty genius of immortal Rome', I Speaks in thy voice : | thy soul breathes lib erty. | Caesar will shrink to hear the words thou utter'si, | And shudder in the midsi of all his conquests. | Luc. The senate owes its gratitude to Cato | Who, with so greai a soul, I consults its safety, j And guards our' lives, I while he neglects his own. | Semp. Sempronius gives no thanks on this v accouni. I Lucius seems fond of life'; J bui whai is* life? | 'T is noi to stal/r aboui, | and draw fresh air From time to time, I or gaze upon the sun : | 'T is to be free'. I When liberty is gone, | Life grows insipid, | and has losi its relish. | O could my dying hand I but lodge a sword PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 241 In Caesar's bosom, j and revenge my country, [ I could enjoy the pangs of deatlr, j And smile in agony ! | Luc. Others, perhaps, | May serve their country with as warm a zeal, [ Though 't is not kindled into so much rage. | Semp. This sober conduct | is a mighty virtue In luke-warm patriots ! j Cato. Come N — no more', Sempronius, | All here are friends to Rome, I and to each other — ( Let us not weaken still the weaker side j By our divisions. | Semp. Cato, my resentments Are sacrificed to Rome v — | I stand reprov'd. | Cato. Fathers, 't is time you come to a resolve. | Luc. Cato, we all go into your' opinion — j Caesar's behaviour has convinc'd the senate j We ought to hold it ouZ till terms arrive, j Semp. We ought to hold it out till death' — I bu£, Cato,| My private voice is drown'd amidsi the senate's. ] Cato. Then let us rises niy friends', | and strive to fill This little interval, I this pause of life, I While yet our liberty, and fates are doubtful, ! With resolution, | friendship, | Roman bra Very, | And all the virtues we can crowd in to it, | ThaZ heaven may say it ought to be prolong'd. | Fathers, farewell. — j The young Numidian prince x Comes forward, I and expects to know our counsels. | THANATOPSIS.* (W. C. BRYANT.) To him who, in the love of Nature, | holds Communion with Aer visible forms, I she speaks A various language : I for his gayer hours, | She has a voice of glad'ness, | and a smile, * Thanatopsis (Greek), from thanatos, death, and opsis, sight • a view of death. 21 242 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. And eloquence of beairty ; | and she glides Into his darker musings I with a mild And gentle sym pathy I that steals away Their sharpness, | ere he is aware. | When thoughts Of the las* bitter hour, I come li£e a blight Over thy spirit ; ] and sad images a Of the stern , agony , b | and shroud', | and pall', | And breathless dark,ness, | and the narrow house', | Make thee to shudder, J and grow sick at heart, | Go forth under the open sky', | and list To Nature's teachings, | while from all around — | Earth', and her wa'ters, | and the depths of air' — | Comes a still voice* — ! Yet a few days, | and thee The all-beholding sun | shall see no more' | In all his course* ; J nor yet in the cold ground*, | Where thy pale form | was laid with many tears*, Nor in the embrace of o cean, | shall exis* Thy image. I Earth thai nourish'd thee, j shall claim Thy growth | to be resolv'd to earth again* ; | And, lost each human trace, | surrendering up Thine individual being, | shalt thou go | To mix for ever with the elements, — | To be a brother to the insensible rocA x , | And to the sluggish clod* | which the rude swain | Turns with /?is share, | and treads upon. | The oak Shall send his roots abroad, j and pierce thy mould. I Yet not to thy eternal resting-place, | Shak thou retire alonex — | nor couldsi thou wish v | Couch more magnificent. | Thou shali lie down | With patriarchs of the infant world — j with kings', The powerful of the earth — | the wises | the good 1 , | Fair forms*, | and hoary seers' of ages past', \ All in one mighty sepulchre. | a Sad images ; not sad-dim'a-ges. b Stern agony ; not stern-nag'- go-ny. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 248 The hills, | Rock-ribb'd, and ancient as the sun ; | the vales*, | Stretching in pensive quietness between* ; | The venerable woods* ; | rivers thai move In majesty, | and the ""complaining brooks* | Thai make the meadows green* ; | and, pour'd round all' j Olc? ocean's grey, and melancholy waste', | Are but the solemn decorations all', 1 Of the greai tomb of man. | The golden sun*, | The plamets, | all the infinite host of heav'n, | Are shining on the sac? t abodes a of death, J Through the still lapse of ages, j All that tread The glofre , | are but , a hand*ful b | to the tribes Thai slumber in its bosom. | Take the wings Of morn'ing, | and the Barcan des*eri , pierce*, j Or lose thyself in the continuous woods* | Where rolls the Oregon, | and hears no sound, j Save fas own dash*ings — | yei the dead are there ; ' And mill'ions in those solitudes, | since firsi The flighi of years began, | have laid them down In their lasi sleep^ — | the dead reigm there, alone v . | So shalt thou' resi — | and whai if thou shali fall, | Unnoticed by the liv*ing ; | and no friend Take note* of thy departure ? | All thai breathe Will share thy destiny. | The gay will laugh When thou ari gone ; | the solemn brood of care Plod om, | and each one, as before, | will chase His favourite phan*tom — | yei all these | shall leave Their mirth, and their employments, | and shall come, And make their bed with thee, j As the long train Of ages glides away, | the sons of men', | The youth in life's green spring*, I and he who goes In the full strength of years', | ma'tron and maid*, | a Sad abodes ; not sad'der-bodes. h But a handful ; not butter handful. 244 p u A G T IC AL ELOCUTIO N . The bow'd with age*, ; the infant | in the smiles And beauty of its innocent age cut ofT, a | Shall one by one | be gather'^ to thy side, I By those who, in their turn, | shall follow them. ) So live, | thai when thy summons comes ( I to join The innumerable caravan j thai moves To the pale realms of shacZe, | where each shall ta&e His chamber in the silent halls of death, I Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at nigh*', j Scourg'd to Ais dumgeon, | but, sustain'^, and sooth'd By an unfaltering trusi, I approach thy grave, j LiAe one who wraps the drapery of Ais couch Aboui him, b j and lies down to pleasant dreams. | SPEECH OF CICERO AGAINST VERRES. The time is come, fathers, I when that which has long been wished for, | towards allaying the envy your order has been subject to, | and removing the imputa- tions against trials, | is effectually put into your power. | An opinion has long prevailed, I not only here at home, | but likewise in foreign countries, I both dangerous to you, | and pernicious to the states — ) that, in prosecu- tions, | men of wealth are always safe v , | however clearly convicted, i There is now to be brought upon his trial, before you, | to the confusion, I hope, | of the propagators of this slanderous imputation, I one whose life, and ac- tions | condemn him in the opinion of all impartial per- sons ; | but who, according to his own reckoning, I and declared dependence upon his riches, | is already ac- quitted : I I mean Caius Verres. | I demand justice of you, Fathers, I upon the robber of the public treasury, I the oppressor of Asia Minor, and PamphyHa, I the invader of the rights, and privi- leges of Romans, | the scourge, and curse of Sicily. | a Cut off; nut cut-toff'. b About him; not abow'tim. c F6r / rln. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 245 If that sentence is passed upon him, | which his crimes deserve, I your authority, Fathers, | will be venerable, and sabered in the eyes of the public ; | but, if his great riches should bias you in his favour, | I shall still gain one x point, — I to make it apparent to all the world, | that what was wanting in this case, | was not a crimi- nal, I nor a prosecutor; | but justice, and adequate punishment. ] To pass over the shameful irregularities of his youth, | what does his quses'torship, | the first public employ- ment he held, | what does it exhibit, I but one continued scene of viManies? I Cneius Carbo, I plundered of the public money by his own treasurer, I a consul stripped, and betrayed, | an army, deserted, and reduced to want, | a province, robbed', | the civil, and religious rights of a people vrolated. | The employment he held in Asia Minor, and Pam- phyPia, — I what, did it produce but the ririn of those countries, | in which houses, cities, and temples were robbed* by him 1 | What was his conduct in his prar- torship here at home 1 I Let the plundered temples, and public works neglected, j that he might embezzle the money intended for carrying them on', | bear wit- ness. | How did he discharge the office of a judges ? | Let those who suffered by his injustice, answer. | But his praetorship in Srcily, | crowns alf his works of wickedness, j and finishes a lasting monument to his infamy. | The mischiefs, done by him in that unhappy country, I during the three years of his iniquitous ad- ministration, j are such, that many years*, I under the wisest, and best' of praetors, I will not be sufficient to restore things I to the condition in which he found v them; | for it is notorious, 1 that, during the time of his tyranny, | the Sicilians neither enjoyed the protection of their own original laws ; | of the regulations made for their benefit by the Roman senate, I upon their coming under the protection of the commonwealth ; j nor of the natural, and unalienable rights of men. | 21* 246 p R A C T I C A L ELOCUTION. His nod* ! has decided all causes in Sicily | for these three years. | And his decisions I have broken all laws | all precedent, 1 all right*, j The sums he has, by arbi- trary taxes, jane? unheard-of impositions, | extorted from the industrious poor, ! are not to be computed. | The most faithful allies of the commonwealth, '■ have been treated as enemies. | Roman citizens, like slaves', | have been put to death with tortures. ' The most atrocious criminals I have been exempted, for money, | from deserved punishments ; j and men, of the most unexceptionable characters, | condemned, and banished, unheard. | The harbours, though sufficiently fortified, | and the gates of strong towns', I have been opened to pirates, and ravagers. | The soldiery, and sailors, | belonging to a province under the protection of the commonwealth,! have been starved to death ; | whole fleets*, j to the great detriment of the prov'ince, | suffered to perish, j The ancient monuments I of either Sicilian, or Ro man greatness, | the statues of heroes, and princes, \ have been carried off 1 ; | and the temples stripped of the images. | Having, by his iniquitous sentences, | filled the prisons with the most industrious, and deserving of the people, | he then proceeded to order numbers of Roman citizens | to be strangled in the jails* ; so that the excla- mation, | " I am a citizen of Rome v !" i whic'.i has often, in the most distant regions, | and among the most bar- barous people, ] been a protection, ! was of no service to them ; | but, on the contrary, | brought a speedier, ancZ more severe punishment upon them. | I ask now, Verres, | what thou hast to advance against this charge? I Wilt thou pretend to deny' it? ; Wilt thou pretend that any thing false 1 , | that even any thing aggravated. I has been urged against thee? ! Had any princes I or any state', I committed the same out- rage against the privilege of Roman citizens, ! should we not think we had sufficient ground for demanding satisfaction I ! PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 247 What punishment ought, then, to be inflicted | upon a tyrannical, and wicked prse tor, I who dared, at no greater distance than Srcily, 1 within sight of the Italian coast', | to put to the infamous death of crucifixion, | that unfortunate, and innocent citizen, I Publius Gavius Cosa nus, I only for his having asserted his privilege of citizenship, I and declared his intention of appealing to the justice of his country, j against the cruel oppressor j who had unjustly confined him in prison at Syracuse, j whence he had just made his escape? | The unhappy man, | arrested as he was going to em- bark for his native country, | is brought before the wicked prsetor. | With eyes darting fury, I and a coun- tenance distorted with cruelty, I he orders the helpless victim of his rage to be stripped*, | and rods' to be brought — j accusing him, j but without the least sha- dow of evidence, I or even of suspicion, j of having come to Sicily as a spy. I It was in vain that the unhappy man cried out, | " I am' a Roman citizen — | I have served under Lucius Pre'tius I who is now at Panor- mus, | and will attest my innocence." The blood-thirsty prretor, I deaf to all he could urge in his own defence, I ordered the infamous punishment to be inflicted. I Thus, Fathers, I was an innocent Ro- man citizen I publicly mangled with scourging; | while the only words he uttered, | amidst his cruel sufferings, were, I " I am a Roman citizen !" I With these , he hoped to defend himself I from violence, and infamy. | But of so little service was this privilege to him, | that, while he was thus asserting his citizenship, I the order was given for his execution, — | for his execution upon the crossv ! | O lib erty ! — I O sound once delightful to every Ro- man ear ! | O sacred privilege of Roman citizen- ship ! — | once' sacred ! — I now tranrpled upon ! — | But what then* ! I Is it come to this'? I Shall an infe- rior magistrate, I a governor, | who holds his whole power of the Roman people, ! in a Roman province, j 248 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. within sight of Italy, | bind, scourge, torture with fire, and red hot plates of iron, I ana at last put to the infa- mous death of the cross, | a Roman citizen ? I Shall neither the cries of innocence expiring in ag^ony, | nor the tears of pitying spectators, I nor the majesty of the Roman commonwealth, ! nor the fear of the justice of his country, | restrain the licentious, ana 7 wanton cruelty of a monster , I who, in confidence of his riches, | strikes at the root of liberty, I and sets mankind at defiance? I conclude with expressing my hopes, I that your wisdom, ana" justice, Fathers, | will not, by suffering the atrocious, and unexampled insolence of Caius Verres | to escape due punishment, I leave room to apprehend the danger of a total subversion of authority, I ana 7 the introduction of general anarchy, and confusion. | CATO'S SOLILOQUY. (ADDISON.) Scene — Cato sitting in a thoughtful posture, with Plato 's book on the Immortality of the Soul in his hand ; and a drawn sword on the table by him. It must" be so — I Plato, thou reasonesi well ! — | Else whence this pleasing hopes I this fond desire', | This longing after immortality 1 | Or whence this secret dread, | and inward horror, | Of falling into nought? I why shrinks the soul | Bac/c on herself, | and star'tles at destruction 1 \ 'T is the divinity thai stirs within us; | 'T is heaven itself | thai points out an hereafter, I And intimates eteraiity to man. I Eternity ! I thou pleas'ing, dreadvful though* ! I Through whai variety of untried beting, | Through whai new scenes, and changes must we pass v ! { The wide', the unbounded prospect lies before me; | Eui shadows, clouds', and dark v ncss res& upon it. | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 249 Here will I hold . ] If there 's a power above us, | And thai there is ! all nature cries aloud Through all Aer works, | he must delight in virtue ; | And thai which he delights in, I must be happy. | Bui when* ! | or where 1 ! — I this world was made for Caesar, j I 'm weary of conjectures — | this must end* them. | [Laying his hand on his sword. Thus am I doub v ly arm'd; I my death, and life*, | My bane', and airtidofe | are both before me : | This in a moment brings me to an end* ; | But this informs me I shall never die*. ! The soul, secured in her existence, j smiles At the drawn dagger, | and defies its point. | The stars shall fade away*, | the sun Znmself Grow dim with age v , I and nature sink in years^ ; j Bui thou shali flourish in immortal youth', ] Unhuri amidsi the war of el'ements, | The wreck of mat'ter, | and the crush of worlds, j hamlet's soliloquy. (SHAKSPEARE.) To be, — or nof to be — | thai' is the question : | Whether 't is nobler in the mind | to suffer The slings, and arrows of outrageous fortune ; ] Or to take arms againsi a sea of troubles, | And, by opposing, end- them 1 \ To die' — to sleeps — No more* — | and, by a sleep, | to say we end The heart-ache, | and the thousand natural shocks J Thai flesh is heir to : \ 't is a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. j To die' — to sleep* — | To sleep'/ I perchance to dream 1 — | ay, there 's the rub ; For, in thai sleep of death, | w hai dreams may come, j When w 7 e have shuffled off this mortal coil, a s Stir, bustle. ^50 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION Musi give us pause . | There 's the respect | Thai makes calamity of so long life* : | For who would bear the whips, and scorns of time*, | The oppressor's wrong*, | the proud man's con v tumely, b The pangs of despised love*, | the law's delays | The insolence of of fice, | and the spurns, Thai patieni merii of the unworthy takes, | When he Aimself mighi his quietus make \ With a bare bod*kin ? c | Who would far*dels d bear, | To groan, and sweai under a weary life, | But that the dread of something after death | ( l Thai undiscover'd country | from whose bourn 6 No traveller returns*), 2 puzzles the will ; | And makes us rather bear those ills we haves | Than fly to others thai we know noi of ? | Thus conscience does make cowards of us all* ; | And thus the native hue of resolution, | Is sicklied o'er with the pale casi of thought ; | And enterprises of greai pith, and momeni, | With this regard, I their currents turn awrys I And lose the name of action. I BRUTUS ORATION ON THE DEATH OF CESAR. (SHAKSPEARE.) Romans, coun'trymen, and lov*ers ! | hear me for my cause* ; I and be sileni I thai you may* hear. I Be- lieve me for mine hon*our r ; I and have respect unto mine honour | thai you may* believe. | Censure me in your wisdom ; I and awaAe your sen ses | thai you may the better judge. | » Consideration. b K6n'tu-me-l&, rudeness. c The ancient term for a small dagger. d Packs, burdens. e B6rn, boundary, limit. i Mine honour ; not mine-non'nur. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 251 If there be any in this assembly, | any dear friend of Caesar's, | to him I say | thai Brutus' love to Caesar, | was no less than his. | If, then, thai friend demand j why Brutus rose againsi^ Csesar, i this is my answer : | Noi that I loved Caesar , less,' 1 j but that I loved Rome , more. | Had you rather Caesar were living, | and die all slaves', I than thai Caesar were dead, I and live all freemen ? | As Caesar loved me, | I weep, for him ; j as he was fortunate, I I rejoice' at ii ; | as he was valiani, | I hon- our him ; I bui, as he was ambitious, I I slew* him. \ There are tears' for his love*, I joy' for Ais for tune, | hon'our for Ms vahour, I and death* for his ambi tion. | Who is here so base | thai [he] ' would be a bond- man ? j If any, j speaA\ ; i for him have I offended. [ Who is here so rude I thai [he] would noi be a Ro v man? j If any, j speaA* ; \ for hinr have I offended. I Who is here so vile | thai [he] w r ill noi love Ais country ? | If any, | spea^ ; j for him' have I offended, i I pause for a reply, j None' ! I Then none N have I offended. | I have done no more to Caesar, | than you should do to Brutus. | The question of his death ! is enrolled in the Capitol ; | his glory noi extenuated, | wherein he was worthy ; | nor his offences enforced', | for which he suffered death, j Here comes Ms body, I mourned by MarA Antony | who, though he had no hand in his death, I shall re- ceive the ben efii of 7ns dying, — ] a place in the conr- monwealth ; I as which of you' shall not? I With this, I depart : | Thai, as I slew my besi lover for the good of Rome, I I have the same dagger for myself*, ! when it shall please my country I to need* my death. | a Ccesarless; not Cse'sar-less. b The words in brackets are not in the original ; they are introduced to make the language good English. 252 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Antony's oration over c^esar's body. (SHAKSPEARE.) Friends', Romans, countrymen ! 1 lend me your ears. | I come to bu ry Caesar, I no* to praise^ him. | The evil tha* men do, | lives after them ; | The good | is oft interred with their bonesx : j So let i* be with Caesar. I The noble Brutus Hath told you, | Caesar was ambitious. | If it were so, I it was a grievous faul** ; | And grievously hath Caesar ansswer'd it. | Here, under leave of Brutus, and the res*, I (For Brutus is an honourable man; | So are they all, | all honourable men) | Come I | to speaA; in Caesar's funeral. | He was my friend*, ) faithful, and jus* x to me. | Bu* Brutus , says, he was ambrtious ; | And Brutus is an honourable man. | He hath brought many captives home to Rome, | Whose ransoms did the gemeral coffers fill : | Did this in Caesar seem ambi'tious? | When that the poor have cried, I Caesar hath wep*. | AmbTtion should be made of sterner stuff. | Ye* Brutus says, he was* ambitious ; | And Brutus is an honourable man. | You all did see I tha*, on the Lupercal, a ] I thrice presented him a kingly crown v , | Which he did thrice refuse. I Was this* ambition ? | Ye* Brutus says, he was ambitious ; | And Brutus is an honourable man. | I speak no* to disprove wha* Brutus spo/ce ; | Bu* here I am to speaA: wha* I do know. | You all did love him once, | no* without cause», | Wha* cause withholds you then to mourn* for Aim ? I O judgmen* / | thou ar* fled to brutish beas*s v ; | » Lupercalia, solemn sacrifices, and plays, dedicated to Pan, kept the 15th of February. — Cicero. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 253 And men have lost their rea*son ! | Bear* with me ; j My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar ; | And I mus£ pause till it come bac/r to me. | But yesterday, | the word of Caesar , mighz Have stood against the world' : I now lies he there* ; | And none so poor a to do him rev\erence. | masters I I if I were disposed I to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, ] 1 should do Brutus wrong*. | and Cas'sius wrong, | Who, you all know, I are honourable men. \ I will not do them* wrong ; | I rather choose To wrong the dead', | to wrong myself, and you', j Than I will wrong such honourable men. | Hut here's a parch men^ | with the seal of Caesar. | I found it in his closoZ ; | 't is 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 Caesar's wounds*, | And dip their napkins in his sacred blood* ; | Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, | And, dying, mention it within their wills v , | Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue. I If you have tears, | prepare to shed them now. | You all do know this mangle : 1 1 remember The firsZ time ever Caesar put it on* ; | 'T was on a summer's eve ning, | in his ten^ ; | Tha£ day he overcame the Ner Vii b — | LooZH | in this place, ran Cassius' dag,ger through: | See whatf a rent the envious Casoa , made : | Through this, | the well-beloved Bru'tus , stabb'd* ; | And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, | MarA; how the blood of Caesar follow'd it ! \ This was the mosZ unkindesZ cut of all ; | For when the noble Caesar saw him stafr, | tt The meanest man is now too high to do reverence to Cessar. — Johnson. b Ner've-1. 22 254 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Ingratitude, 1 more strong than traitor's arms, | Quite van'quish'd him. | Then bursi his mighty heart. ;| And, in his mantle muffling up his face, | E'en at the base of Pompey's statue, | (Which all the while ran blood/) greai Caesar fell. | O whai a fall was there*, my countrymen ! | Then h, | and you\ | and alh of us, fell down., | Whilst bloody treason flourish'd 1 over us. | now you weep ; | and I perceive you feel The dini of pity. 1 These are gracious drops. | Kind, souls ! | wha^ / | weep you when you but behold Our Csesar's ves'ture wounded ? | Loo/e you here' ! | Here is //imself \ I marr'd, as you see, by traitors. | Good* friends, | swee^ friends ! I \et me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny — | They that have done' this deed, | are honourable ! | Whai private griefs they have, I alas ! I know not, | Thai made' them do it — | they are wise and hon ourable: I And will, no doubi, with reasons answer you ! | 1 come noi, friends, to steal away your hearts : | I am no orator, as Brutus is ; | Bui, as you know me all, I a plain, bluni man, I Thai love my friend' ; I and thai they know full welT, | Thai gave me public leave to speak of him. | For I have neither wii', nor words', nor worth', \ Ac'tion, nor utterance, I nor power of speech', | To stir men's blood. : I I only spea& right on'. ] I tell you thai which you yourselves' do know. ; J Show you sweet Caesar's wounds*, I poor, poor, dumb' mouths*, | And bid them speaA; for me. I But, were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, | there were an Antony | Would ruffle up your spirits, I and put a tongue In every wound of Caisar, I thai should move The stones' of Rome j to rise in mutiny. | 'That is, flourished the sword. — Stkevens. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 255 WOMAN. (r. h. townsend.) Sylph of the blue, and beaming eye ! | The Muses' fondest wreaths are thine^ — J The youthful heart beats warm, and high, | And joys to own thy power divine^ ! j Thou shines^ o'er the flowery path | Of youth ; I and all is pleasure there ! I Thou soothes^ man, I whene'er he hath | An eye of gloonr — | a brow of care v . | To youth, thou art the early morm, | With " light, and melody, and songv," | To gild his path' ; | each scene adorn', | And swiftly speed his time along v . | To man, thou art the gift of HeaVn, | A boon from regions bright above* ; | His lot, how dar&s | had ne'er been giv'n | To him the ligh£ of woman's love ( ! ! When o'er his dark'ning brow, | the storm | Is gath'ring in its power, and mighZ', I The radiant beam of woman's form', | Shines through the cloud', and all is ligh£ v ! | When dire disease prepares her wrath | To pour in terror from above', | How gleams upon his gloomy path', I The glowing light of woman's lovev ! j When all around is clear, and bright, | And pleasure lends her fairest charmv ; ] And man, enraptur'd with delight, ] Feels, as he views, his bosom warm', | Why glows Ms breast with joy profuse', | And all his deeds, Ais rap'ture prove^ ? j It is, because the scene he views' j Through the bright rays of woman's love v ! | 256 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. O woman ! | thine is still the power, | Denied to all but on ly thee, | To chase away the clouds tha* lower ( | To harass life's eventful sea v . | Thou ligh* of manx ! | his on ly joy , | Beneath a wide, and boundless sky*, | Long shall thy praise his tongue , employ. Sylph of the blue, and beaming eye 4 ! I ODE ON THE PASSIONS. (COLLINS.) When Music, heavenly maid, was young, | Ere ye* in early Greece v she sung, | The Passions oft, to hear her shell, | Throng'd around Aer magic cell, | Exulting, | trembling, | ra ging, | faintjng, | Possess'd beyond the Muse's paint jng. | By turns they feft the glowing mind | Disturb'^, I delight ed, | rais'd s , I refin'dx / j Till once, 't is said, when all x were fired, | Fill'd with fu ry, | ra.pt", | inspir'dv, | From the supporting myrtles round', I They snatch'd Aer instruments of soundv ; | And, as they oft had heard, aparZ, | Swee£ lessons of Aer forceful art, | Each (for Madness rul'd the hour) | Would prove his own expressive power. | FirsZ, Fear, I Ais hand, its skill to try, | Amid the chords, bewikder'd, laid, | And back recoil 'd, I he knew no* why*, | E'en at the sound himselr had made. | Nex£, Anger rush'd v ; | his eyes on fire, | In lightnings own'd Ais secret stingSv ; | In one rude clash, Ae struck the lyre', | And swepZ, with hurried hand, the strings v PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 257 With wo ful measures, wan Despair, | Low sullen sounds his grief beguil'dv ; | A solemn', strange', and mirrgl'd air : ] 'T was sac/ by fits ; I by starts, 't was wilt/, j Bui thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair, | Wha£ was thy x delighted measure ? J Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, | And bade the lovely scenes at distance haiL ! j Still would her touch the strain prolongs ; | And, from the rocks', ] the woods', | the vales | She call'd on echo still, through all the songv : j And, where Aer sweetest theme she chose, | A soft, responsive voice was heard at every close v ; j And Hope, enchanted, | smil'd, and wav'dAer golden hair. | And Ion ger had she sung ; I but, with a frown, j Revenge^, impatient, rosev : | He threw Ais blood-stain'd sword in thunder down — | And with a withering look, | The war-denouncing trum 'pet took, \ And blew a blast so loud, and dread, | Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of wo*; And ever, and anon, he beat \ The doubling drum with furious hea^ ; | And, though, sometimes, each dreary pause between, | Dejected Pity, at Ais side, j Her soul-subduing voice, applied; | Yet still he kept his wild, unalter'd mien, | While each strain'd ball of sigh*, I seem'd bursting from his head. | Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought, were fix'd — | Sad proof of thy distressful state ! j Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd* ; ] And now it courted Love N ; | now, raving, call'd on Hate^. | With eyes, uprais'd, as one inspir'd, | Pale Melancholv sat retir'd* ; } 22* 258 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. And, from her wild, sequester'*/ seaZ, | In notes by distance made more sweetf, | Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul* ; And, dashing soft from rocks around, | Bubbling runnels join'd the soundx ; | Through glades, and glooms, the mingl'd measure stole,| Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, | Round a holy calm diffusing, | Love of peace, and lonely musing, j In hollow murmurs, died away. | But, O ! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone, | When Cheerfulness, | a nymph of healthiest hue, | Her bow across Aer shoulder flung, | Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, | Blew an inspiring air, | that dale and thicket rung v ,| The hunter's calF, | to fawn and dryad known. I The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd queen,| Satyrs, and sylvan boys' were seen, | Peeping from forth their alleys greeih — | Brown Exercise rejoic'd* to hear ; | And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. | Las£ came Joy's x ecstatic trial — | He, with viny crown advancing, | FirsJ to the lively pipe\ his hand address'd; I But soon he saw the brisA;, awakening vrol I Whose sweet, entrancing voice he lov'd the bes^v. I They would /?ave thought, who heard the strain, | They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids, | Amidst the festal-sounding shades | To some unwearied minstrel dancing, j While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, | Love fram'd with Mirth, a gay, fantastic round* ; | Loose were Aer tresses seen, I her zone, unboundv ; ] And he, amidst the frolic play, I As if he would the charming air repay, | Shoo/c thousand odours from his dewy wings v . PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 259 SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY, Mr. Pres^ideni — | It is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. I We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, | and listen to the song of thai syren I till she transforms us into beasts. I Is this the part of wise men, ! engaged in a greai, and arduous struggle for liberty ? I Are we disposed to be of the number of those | who, having eyes, see noi, I and having ears, hear not I the things which so nearly concern their temporal salva'tion? | For my part, I whatever an- guish of spirit it may cosi, I I am willing to know the whole* truth — | to know the worsi\ | and to provide* for it. | I have bui one lamp by which my* feet are guided ; j and that is the lamp of experience. I I know of no way of judging of the future, ! bui by the pasi* : | and, judg- ing by the pas?, I I wish to know | whai there has been in the conduct of the British ministry I for the last ten years' | to justify those hopes | with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves, and the house*? | Is it thai insidious smile I with which our petition has been lately received' ? | Trust it noi*, sir — | it will prove a snare to your fee^ ; | suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. | Ask yourselves | how this gracious reception of our petition, | comports with those warlike preparations | which cover our waters, | and darken our land. | Are fleets, and armies | necessary to a wor/c of love, and reconcilia'tion ? | Have we shown ourselves so unwil- ling to be reconciled, 1 that force must be called in I to win hack our love' ? | Lei us not deceive* ourselves, sir : | these are the implements of war, I and sUbjuga'- tion — | the last arguments I to which kings resort. | I ask gentlemen, sir, | what means* this martial ar- ray | if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? | Can gentlemen assign any other pos sible motive for \t? | 260 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Has Great Br i tarn 11 any enemy in this quarter of the world | to call for all this accumulation of navies, and armies ? | No v , sir, j she has none'. | They are mean* for us v : | they can be meant for no other. | They are sent over to bind, and rivet upon us | those chains which the British ministry have been so long for ging. | And what have we to oppose' to them ? I Shall we try argument ? \ Sir, | we have' been trying that I for the las* ten years*. I Have we any thing new to offer upon the subject I Nothing. I We have held the subjec* up | in every ligh* of which it is capable ; | bu* it has been all in vain. | Shall we resor* to entreaty, and humble supplica- tion? | Wha* terms shall we fine?, which have no* been already exhausted ? h | Le* us no*, I beseech you, sir, | deceive ourselves longer. | Sir, | we have done every thing tha* could' be done 1 to aver* the storm which is now coming on. | We have petitionee? ; | we have remon strated ; | we have supplicated ; | we have prostrated ourselves before the throne 1 , I and have im- plored its interposition I to arres* the tyrannical hands of the ministry, and parliament | Our petitions have been sligh'ted; | our remonstrances I have produced additional violence, and in'sul* ; | our supplications have been disregarded; | and we have been spurned with contemp*, I from the foo* of the throne. I In vain, after these things, I may we indulge the fond hope of peace, and reconciliation. — I There is no longer any room^for hope. I If we wish to be free, ! if we mean to preserve inviola*e | those inestimable privi- leges | for which we have been so long contending, | if we mean no* basely to abairdon the noble struggle | in which we have been so long engaged, I 'and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon I until the glorious objec* of our contes* shall be obtained', 1 2 we mus* figh* / i I repeat it, sir, I we mus* figh* / | An appeal to arms, | 'and to the God of Hos*s, 1 2 is all that is left us. | "BrU'in; not Brif'n. b Egi-h&st'fed ; not kgi-khtfli. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 261 They tell us, sir, I that we are wea&% — | unable to cope' with so formidable an adversary. | But when shall we be stronger? I Will it be the next weeb — ) or the next year' 1 | Will i* be when we are totally disarmed ; I and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house. ? ! Shall we gather strength by irreso- lution, and inaction ? I Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance I by lying supinely on our backs, | and hugging the delusive phantom of hope I until our enemies shall have bound us hand, and foot 1 ? | Sir, | we are no£ v wea/c I if we ma&e a proper use of those means | which the God of nature hath placed in our power. | 4 Three millions of people, 1 3 armed in the holy cause of liberty, | 2 and in such a country as tha£ which we possess, | 4 are invincible | under any force which our enemy can send against us. I 2 Besides, sir, I we shall not figh* our battles alone* : | 'there is a jus£ God. | who presides over the destinies of nations ; 1 2 and who will raise up friends' | to fightf our battles for us. I The bat- tle, sir, | is not to the strong alone. ; I it is to the vig*i- lan£, | the ac'tive, | the brave v . | Besides, sir, | we have no election. | If we were base enough to desire* \t, | it is now too late to retire from the contest | There is no retread | bnt in submission, and slavery, j Our chains are forged — | their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. I The war is inevitable ; ! and let it come ! | I repeat it, sir — | let \t come ! ! | It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. | Gentle- men may cry peace ! peace ! | but there is. no peace. | The war is actually begun* ! | The nexZ gale thaZ sweeps from the north, | will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms^ ! I Our brethren are already in the field. ! | Why stand we here i.dle ? | Wha£ is it tha£ gentlemen wish* 1 | Wha£ would they have. 1 | Is life so dear, I or peace so sweeZ, I as to be purchased at the price of chains, and slavery ? ^ | I know not whaZ course otlrers may f afte ; | bu£, as for me, I give me lib erty, | or give me deaths ! | 2G:i PRACTICAL ELOCUTION HYMN TO THE DEITY ON A REVIEW OF THE SEASONS. (THOMSON.) These, as they change, | Almighty Father, | these Are but the varied God. | The rolling year Is fulb of thee. I Forth in the pleasing Spring | Thy beauty walks, I thy tenderness and love. | Wide flush the fields' ; | the soft'ning air is balnh ; | Echo the mountains round 1 ; | the forest smiles* ; | And ev'ry sense', | and ev'ry hear^ is joy. | Then comes thy glory I in the Sunrmer months, | With light, and hea£ refulgent | Then thy sun | Shoots full perfection through the swelling yean ; | And oft thy voice in dreadful thuirder, speaks ; | And oft Rt dawm', | deep noon', I or falling eve', | By brooks, and groves, | in hollow-whisp'ring gales. | Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'ds | And spreads a common feas£ for all tha£ live*. | In Winter, aw N ful thou ! I with clouds, and storms Around^ thee thrown, | tempest o'er tempest roll'd*, | Majestic darkness ! | on the whirlwind's wing, j Riding sublime, I thou bidsZ the world adore' ; j And humblest Nature with thy northern blas£ x . | Mysterious round / | whai skills j wha£ force divine 1 , j Deep Mt\ | in these, appear* ! I a simple train, | Yet so delightful mix'd, I with such kind art, a | Such beauty, and beneficence combin'd* : | Shade, unperceiv'd, so soft'ning into shade', | And all so forming an harmonious whole', | That, as they stiil succeed, | they rav'ish still. | Bu£, wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze, I Man marks not thee v , I marks not the mighty hand, j That, ever busy, | wheels the silent spheres,, | Kind art ; not kine dart. b Sl'lfent ; not silunt. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 263 Works in the secret deep', | shoots, steaming, thence, I The fair profusion thai o'erspreads the spring*, | Flings from the sun direct* the flaming days | Feeds ev'ry crea'ture, I hurls the tenrpesi forth ; | And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, ] With transport, touches all the springs of life. | Nature, attend / | join ev'ry living soul, | Beneath the spacious temple of the sky', | In adoration, join, | and ardent raise One general song ! | To him, ye vocal gales, | Breathe softv |\vhose spirit in your fresh*ness breathes :j O talk of Aim in solitary glooms^ ! | Where, o'er the roc/r, | the scarcely waving pine j Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. c | And ye whose bolder note is hears? afar', | Who shake the astonish'd worlds, | lift high to heaven The impetuous song x , | and say from whom you rage. | His praise, ye brooks^, attune, d I ye trembling rills*, | And let me catch it as I muse along. I Ye headlong tor rents, | rapid, and profound* ; | Ye softer floods , thai lead the humid maze Along the vale, i and thou, majestic main 1 , | A secret world of wonders in thyself, | Sound Ms stupendous praise, | whose greater voice, j Or bids you roar', I or bids your roarings falK | Soft roll your irrcense,|herbs/,and fruits', and flow'rs v , | In mingled clouds to him | whose sun exalts' ; | Whose breath perfumes^ you ; I and whose pencil paints^. | Ye foresis, bend* ; | ye harvests, wave x to Mm ; | Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart', | As home he goes beneath the joyous moon*. | a De-r&ct'. b Ar'dent ; not ardunt. c Religious awe ; not reli- gious-saw. d Brooks attune ; not brooks'sur-tune. 264 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Ye that keep watch in heav'n', | as earth asleep Uncon scious lies, | effuse your mildest beams*, | Ye constellations* | while your angels stride, | Amid the spangled sky, i the silver lyre. I Grea£ source of day' ! | besZ image here below, Of thy Creator, | ever pouring wide, From world to world, | the vital ocean round*, | On Nature write with ev'ry beanr, Ais praise. | Ye thunders, roll 1 ; I be hush'd the prostrate world*, | While cloud to cloud returns^ the solemn hymn. | Bleai out afresh, ye hills' ; I ye mossy rocks, Retaim the sound ; | the broad responsive low, Ye vafleys, raise — | for the Grea£ Shepherd reigns* ; | And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come v . | Ye woodlands, 1 all, awafte' ! | a boundless song Burs£ from the groves* ; I and, when the restless day, Expiring, I lays the w T arbling world asleep, ] Sw r eetes£ of birdss | sw r ee£ Philomela, | charm The listening shadess I and teach the nigh^' his praise. | Ye chief, | for whom the whole creation smiles*, | At once the heads the heart', the tongue x of all, | Crown' the grea£ hymn. | In swarming cities vas£, | Assembled men, I to the deep organ, b | join The long-resounding voices I oft breaking clear, At solemn pauses, | through the swelling bass* ; | And, as each mingling flame increases each, | In one united ardour, rise to heaven. | Or, if you rather choose the rural shade, | And find a fane in ev'ry sacred grove, | There let the shepherd's flutes I the virgin's lay,, ! The prompting ser'aph, | and the poet's lyres | Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll. | For me, when I forged the darling theme, | Whether the blossom blows*, i the summer ray Russets the plain', | inspiring autumn gleamss | VYud'iAnrii ; not wood'luns. h Doep ororin : not dee-por'gan. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 265 l Or winter rises in the black'ning eas^, j 2 Be my tongue mute 1 , \ my fancy painZ no mores, | And, dead to joy, | forged my heart to bea^ / | Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth', a | to distant barb'rous climes* j Rivers unknown to song,, | where firsZ the sun Gilds Indian mountains, | or his setting beam Flames' on the Atlantic isles*, j 'tis nought to me, ! Since God is ever pres.enZ, j ever felt, j In the void waste \ as in the city full ; j And where he vital breathes, i there must be joy. j When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come, J And wing my mystic flight to future worlds-, | I cheerful will obeys ; | there, with new pow'rs j Will rising wonders sing : I I cannot go | Where Universal Love smiles not around, j Sustaining all yon orbs, b | and all their suns* ; | From seeming evil still educing good\ ] And better thence again , | and better still 1 , I In infinite progression. I ~But I lose Myself in Him", in Lighz inef Table ! | Come then, expressive Si lence, I muse His praise, j THE MARKERS DREAM. (DIMOM).) In slumbers of mid\nighz, the sai lor-boy lay ; | His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind*; ] But, watch- worn, and weary, his cares flew away ; j And visions of happiness danc'd o'er Ais mind . j He dream'd of his home^, of his dear native bowsers, | And pleasures thaZ waited on life's' merry morn. ; | While Memory stood sidewise, half cover'd with flowers, | And restor'd ev'ry rose 7 , | but secreted its thorn . | • Green earth ; not gree-nearth'. b Yon orbs ; not von-norbs. 23 26G PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Then Faircy, her magical pinions spread wide*, | And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise* — | Now far, far behind Aim, the green waters glide' ; | And the coi of Ais forefathers, blesses Ais eyes v . | The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch* ; | And the swallow sings sweeifrom Aernest in the wall*;j All trembling with transport, he raises the latch' ; | And the voices of lov'd* ones reply to Ais call. | A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; j His cheeA is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear* ; And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss, unite' | With the lips of the maid whom Ais bosom holds dear v . The heart of the sleeper beats high in Ais breast ; | Joy quickens Ais pulse* — | all hardships seem o'er* ; And a murmur of happiness steals through Ais resi* — Kind Fate, thou hasi bless'd* me — 1 1 asft for no more v . Ah! | whai is thai flame which now bursas on Ais eye*? Ah ! | whai is thai sound which now larums Ais ear ? 'T ib the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky v ! 'T is the crashing of thun ders,|the groan of the sphere, He springs from Ais hanrmock — | he flies to the deck' — Amazement confronts Aim with images dire* — | Wild winds, and mad waves drive the vessel a wrecA* — The masis fly in splinters — | the shrouds are on fire ! 'Like mountains the billows tremendously swell — | In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save* ; | Unseen hands of spirits, are ringing Ais knell* ; | And the death-angel flaps Ai« broad wing o'er the wave v ! | O sailor-boy ! wo to thy dream of delight / | In darkness dissolves the gay frost- worA of bliss 1 . | Where now is the picture thai Fancy touch'd bright, ; Thy parents' fond pressure, | and love's honied kiss* ? j PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 267 O sai'lor-boy ! sailor- boy ! | never again', | Shall home', love', or kimdred, thy wishes repays | Unbless'd, and unhomour'd, I down deep in the main', Full many a score fath om, | thy frame shall decay v . No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee x , | Or redeem form', or frame' from the merciless surge* ; But the white foam of waves, shall thy winding-shee* be', And winds, in the midnight of wimter, thy dirge v ! | On beds of green sea x -flowers, thy limbs shall be laid ; Around thy white bones, the red coral shall grow ; Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made ; | And ev'ry part suit to thy mansion below^ j Days,, months', years', and ages shall circle away; | And still the vas£ waters above x thee shall roll — | Earth loses thy pattern for ever, and aye* : — | O sai/lor-boy ! sailor-boy ! peace to thy soul ! | GOD. [From the Russian Anthology.] (derzhavin.) O Thou eter nal One ! I whose presence bright j All space doth occupy, | all motion guide* ; | Unchang'd through time's all-devastating flight ; | Thou only God / | There is no God beside^ ! | Being above alF beings ! | Miglrty One ! | Whom none can comprehend, | and none explore^ ; | Who fill's* existence with thyself alone* : | Embracing alh — | supporting — | ruling o'er — | Being whom we call God* — | and know no more v ! j In its sublime research, I philosophy May measure out the o cean-deep — | may coun* The sands^, | or the sun's rays' — | but, God/ | for thee There is no weigh*, nor meas*ure : | none can mouni Up to thy mysteries. I Reason's brightest spar&, j 268 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Though kindled by thy ligh*, I in vain would try To trace thy counsels, I infinite, and darft, ; | And though* is los*' | ere though* can soar so high*, | E'en liAe pas* moments in eteroiity. | Thou from primeval nothingness, | dids* call' | Firs* cha*os, | then existence — | Lord, on thee Eternity had its foundation : — | all Sprung forth from theex : — | of ligh**, I joy', | harmony, | Sole or agin : I all life', | all beauty , thine, j Thy word created alb, | and doth' crea*e ; j Thy splendour fills all space with rays divine. | Thou ar*', I and wer* 1 , I and shal** be! I Glorious! j Grea**! | Life'-giving, I life-sustain*ing Potenta*e* ! | Thy chains the unmeasur'd universe surround ; | Upheld' by thee, I by thee inspir'd with breath* : | Thou the beginning with the end* has* bound, | And beautifully mingled life, and death ! I As sparks moun* upwards from the fiery blaze% | So suns' are born ; | so worlds* spring forth from thee* : j And, as the spangles in the sunny rays | Shine round the silver snow*, | the pageantry b Of heaven's brigh* army, | glitters in thy praise. c | A million torches, lighted by thy hand, | Wander unwearied through the blue abyss* : | They own thy pow*er, I accomplish thy command', I All gay with life*, I all eloquen* with bliss v . | * P6't6n-tate ; not p6'tn-tate. b Pad'd2an-tr£. c "The force of this simile," says Bow-ring, in his Specimens of the Russian Poets, " can hardly be imagined by those who have never witnessed the sun shining", with unclouded splendour, in a cold of twenty or thirty degrees of Reaumur. A thousand, and ten thousand sparkling- stars of ice, brighter than the brightest diamond, play on the surface of the frozen snow ; and the slightest breeze sets myriads of icy atoms in motion, whose glancing light, and beauti- ful rainbow hues, dazzle and weary the eye." PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 269 Wha£ shall we calh them 1 \ Piles of crystal ligh*', | A glorious company of golden streams*, | Lamps of celestial ether, I burning bright — | Suns', lighting systems with their joyous beams. ? | Bu£ thou to these art as the noon to nigh^. | Yes 4 , as a drop of water in the sea, | All this magnificence in thee is los£ v ! | Wha£ are ten thousand worlds' compar'd to thee* ? | And whaZ am T then ? I Heaven's unnumber'd host, j Though multiplied by myr iads, | and array 'd In all the glory of sublimes^ thought, | Is but an at om a in the balance, I weight Against thy greatness — ] is a cypher brought Against infinity ! | WhaZ am T then 1 | Nough^ / | Nought / | Bu£ the effluence of thy lighi divine, | Pervading worlds, I hath reach'd my bo*som too ; | Yes* ! in my spirit doth thy spirit shine, | As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. I Nought / | but I live, and on hope's pinions fly | Eager towards thy presence ; \ for in thee I Jive', I and breathe', | and dwell* ; I aspiring high 1 , | E'en to the throne of thy divinity. ] I am, O God/ | and surely thou musZ be ! I Thou art* / ! directing, guiding all, | thou art' / | Direct my understanding, then, to thee. ; I Control my spirit, ) guide my wandering heart ; j Though but an at*om a midst immensity, j Still I am something fashion'd by thy hand / | I hold a middle ran& 'twixt heaven, and earth*, j On the lasZ verge of mortal being stand', j Close to the realms where airgels have their birth, | Just on the boundaries of the spirdt-land / The chain of being is complete* in me, — j In me is matter's las£ gradation los^ ; | a But an atom ; not but-ter-nat'tom. 23* ~?0 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. And the next step is spirit — | Deaty ! | I can command the lightning, j and am dus£v / | A monarch, \ and a slave x ; | a worm', | a God / 1 Whence came v I here ? I and how so marvellously Constructed, and conceiv'dv ? I unknown. | This clod Lives surely through some higher energy ; | For, from itself alone, | it could no* be ! I Creator, yes^ ! I thy wisdom, and thy word v Created me ! Thou source of life, and good* / | Thou spirit of my spirit, | and my Lord v / | Thy ligh^, ] thy love, I in their bright plenitude, | FhTd me with an immortal soul I to spring O'er the abyss of death, | and bade it wear The garments of eternal day, | and wing Its heavenly flight | beyond this little sphere, | E'en to its source* — I to thee N — ! its Author there. | O thoughts ineffable ! | O visions bles£ x / j Though worthless, our conceptions all of thee' ; | Yet shall thy shadow'd image fill our breast, | And waft its homage to thy Deity. | God, thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar* ; j Thus seek thy presence, | Being wise, and good / I Mids£ thy vasZ works admire', I obey', | adore v ; I And, when the tongue is eloquent no more, | The soul shall speaA: in tears of gratitude. | WITHOUT GOD EN THE WORLD. (REV. ROBERT HALL.) The exclusion of a Supreme Being, ' and of a super- intending providence, 4 | tends directly to the destruc- tion of moral taste. I It robs the universe of all finished, and consummate ex cellence, I even in idea. I The ad- miration of perfect wisdom, and goodness 1 for which we are formed, I and which kindles such unspeakable 'Prdve-d&ns; not provurduuce. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 271 rapture in the soul, I finding in the regions of scepti- cism | nothing to which k corresponds, I droops, and languishes. I In a world which presents a fair spec- tacle 51 of order, and beauty, I of a vas* family, nourished, and supported by an Almighty Parent — I in a world which leads the devout mind, step by step, I to the con- templation of the first fair, and the firs* good, I the scep- tic is encompassed with nothing but obscurity, mean- ness, and disorder. | When we reflect on the manner in which the idea of Deity is formed, | we must be convinced J tha* such an idea intimately present to the mind, | must have a mos* powerful effec* I in refining the moral taste. | Com- posed of the riches* elements, b |it embraces in the char- acter of a beneficent Parent, I and AI mighty Ruler, ] whatever is venerable in wis^dom, | whatever is awful in author ity, | whatever is touching in goodness. | Human excellence is blended with many imperfec- tions, | and seen under many limitations. | It is beheld only in detached, and separate portions, I nor ever ap- pears in any one character, whole, and entire. | So tha*, when, in imitation of the Stoics, | we wish to form ou* of these fragments, i the notion of a perfectly wise, and good man, | we know it is a mere fiction of the mind', I without any real being in whom it is embodied, and realized. I In the belief of a Deity, | these concep- tions are reduced to reality — | the scattered rays of an ideal excellence, are concentrated, I and become the real attributes of tha* Being | with whom we stand in the nearest relation — I who sits supreme at the head of the universe, | is armed with infinite pow'er, | and pervades all nature with his presence. | The efficacy of these sentiments, | in producing, and augmenting a virtuous taste, | will indeed be propor- tioned to the vividness with which they are formed^, | and the frequency with which they recun ; | ye* some 8 Spfek'tl-kl. h El'fe-mfcnts ; not elurmunts. c P&'rfcnt. 272 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. benefit will not fail to result from them | even in their low x esi degree. | The idea of the Supreme Being, | has this' peculiar property — | thai, as it admits of no substitute, I so, from the first momeni it is impressed, | it is capable of continual growth, and enlargement I God Ztimself is immu table ; I but our conception of his character, | is continually receiving fresh accessions, — | is continu- ally growing more extended and refulgent, | by having transferred upon it | new perceptions of beauty, and goodness ; I by attracting to itself, as a centre, | what- ever bears the impress of dig'nity, order, or happiness. | It borrows splendour from all that is fain, | subordi- nates to itself all that is greai\ | and sits enthroned on the riches of the universe. | THE THREE WARNINGS. (MRS. THRALE.) The tree of deepest rooi, is found | Leasi willing still to quit the groundx ; | 'T was therefore said by ancieni sages, | Thai love of life increas'd with years | So much, i thai, in our latter stages, | When pains grow shar/?, and sickness rages, | The greatest love of life appears. | This greai affection to believe, | Which ail confess, I but few perceive, I If old assertions can'i prevail, j Be pleas'd to hear a modern tale v . | When sports went round, and all were gay, | On neighbour Dodson's wedding-day, | Death call'd aside the jocund groom | With him, into another roonr ; | And looking grave — I " You musi," says he, | "Quii your swcci bride', | and come with me ." PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 273 " With you' ! I and quit my Susan's side' ! | With you'!" | 'the hapless husband cried/;] 2 " Young as I am, 't is monstrous hard* / j Beside, in truth, I 'm not prepar'd^ : j My thoughts on otlrer matters go ; | This is my wedding-day, you know." j WhaZ more he urg'd, I have not heards j His reasons could not well be stronger; J So Death the poor delinquent spar'd*, | And left to live a little longer. | Yet, calling up a serious look — j ( l His hour-glass trembled while he spoked) | 2 " Neighbour," he said, | "farewell. | No more j Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour, ; | And farther, I to avoid all blame J Of cruelty upon my name, | To give you time for preparation, j And fit you for your future station, | Three several war nings you shall have, | Before you 're summon'd to the grave x . j Willing for once, I '11 quit my prey', | And gran* a kind reprieve*, ] In hopes you '11 have no more to say v ; j But, when I call agaim this way, | Well pleas'd the world will leave." I To these conditions both consented, | And parted perfectly contended, j Wha£ next the hero of our tale befell, | How long he liv'd v , | how wise', I how well, | How roundly he pursued Ms course, | And smok'd Ms pipe', ! and strok'd Ais horse', | The willing muse shall tell : ! He chaf fer'd then, | he bought, | he sold*, | Nor once perceiv'd^ h is growing old', I Nor thought of Death as near v ; ] His friends not false', I his wife no shrew, j Many Ms gains', I his children few,, j 274 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. He pass'd his hours in peace,. | Bui, while he view'd his wealth increase, j While thus along Life's dusty road, | The beaten tracer conteni he trod, | Old Time, | whose haste no mortal spares, I Uncall'd', | unheeded, | unawares^, | Brought on his eightieth year . | And now, one nighi, | in musing mood, | As all alone he sate, I The unwelcome messenger of Fate, | Once more before Aim stood. | Half kill'd with anger, and surprise, | "So soon return'd'!" | 'old Dodson cries,, | 2 "So soon, d'ye call it?" I 'Death replies,: | a " Surely, my friend, I you 're bui m jesi7 a | Since I was here before j 'T is six-and-thirty years' , ai leasi, b | And you are now fourscore." | " So much the worses" I 'the clown rejoin'dv, | 2 " To spare the aged would be kind x ; | However, see your search be le'gfll ; | And your authority — | is 'i re'gal ? I Else you are come on a fool's' errand, | With bui a secretary's warrant | Beside^ you promis'd me Three War'nings | Which I have look'd for nights, and monrings! Bui, for thai loss of time, and ease, | I can recover dam ages." | " I know," cries Death, | " thai, at the besi\ | I seldom am a wel v come guesi; | Bui don'i be captious, friend, at leasi*: | I little thoughi you'd still be able | To stum/? aboui your farm', and stable ; | Your years have run to a greai length* ; | I wish you joy, though, of your strength !" | a But in jest ; not button je6t. b Years at least ; not years'at-least. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 275 " Hold' ," says the farmer, 1 " not so fast* / | I have been lame these four years past." | " And no great won*der," I Death replies/: | " However, you still keep your eyes' ; | And sure, to see one's loves, and friends, | For legs, and arms, would make amends." j " Perhaps," says Dodson, " so it might*, | But latterly, I 've lost my sight,." | " This is a shocking tale, 't is true, | But still there 's comfort left' for you : | Each strives your sadness to amuse — | I warrant you hear all the news." | " There 's none'," cries he ; I " and, if there were, | I 'm grown so deaf, I could not hear." I "Nay*, then," | the spectre stern rejoin'dv, | " These are unjustifiable yearnings ; ] If you are Lame', and Deaf, and Blind', | You 've had' your Three sufficient Warnings. | So, come along , | no more* we '11 part ;" | He said, | and touch'd him with his dart. | And now, old Dodson turning pale, | Yields to Ais fatev — j so ends my tale . | THE CHAMELEON ; OR, PERTINACITY EXPOSED. (MERRICK.) Oft has it been my lot to mar& | A proud, conceited, talking sparA\, | With eyes that hardly serv'd at most*, | To guard their master 'gainst a post ( ; | Yet round the world the blade has been, | To see whatever could be seen^ : | Returning from his finish'd tour, | Grown ten times perter than befores ; | Whatever word you chance to drop, | The travell'd fool your mouth will stops ; | 276 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. " Sir, if my judgment you '11 allow — | I 've seen — | and sure I oughz to know." | So, begs you 'd pay a due submission, | And acquiesce in his decisaon. | Two travellers of such a cas£, ] As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd, | And on their way, in friendly cha£, | Now talk'd of this', and then of thai', | Discours'd a while, 'mongsi other matter, | Of the Chameleon's form, | and nature, j " A stranger animal," cries one, | " Sure never liv'd beneath the sun* ! | A lizard's bod 4 y, | lean, and long*, | A fish's head 4 , I a serpent's tongue*, | Its foo£ with triple claw 4 disjoin'd — | And whai a length of tail' behind 4 / | How slow , its pace* ! | and then , its hue y — Who ever saw so fine a blue ?" | "Hold 4 there," I the other quic& replies*, | "'Tis green — | I saw it with these eyes 4 , As late with open mouth, \t lay, | And warm'd it in the sunny ray* ; | Stretch'd at its ease 4 , the beast I view'd', | And saw it ea,t the air for food." I " I 've seen i£, friend, as well as you 4 , | And must again affirm it blue*. | At leisure, I the beast survey'd', ] Extended in the cooling shade/' | " 'T is green', 't is green, I can assure 4 ye." " Green' !" I 'cries the other in a fury, — | 2 " Why 4 , do you thmk I 've \ost my eyes' V j " 'T were no grea£ 4 loss," the friend replies/, " For, if they always serve you thus', j You'll find them but of little use." I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 277 So high at las* the contest rose', | From words they almost came to blows v : | When luckily came by, a third* — | To him the question they referr'^; | And begg'd he 'd tell them, if Ae knew, | Whether the thing was green, or blue^ | " Sirs," cries the umpire, | " cease your pother; | The creature 's neither one nor t' other. | I caught the animal last nighZ, | And view'd it o'er by camdle-ligh* ; | I mark'd it well — | 't was blacfc as je£v — | You stare — | but I have got i* ye^, | And can produce' it." | " Pray then do x ; | For I am sure the thing is blue*." | " And I 'IP engage I that when you 've seen j The reptile, | you '11 pronounce Aim green." j " Well then, | at once to end the doubz," | Replies the man, | " I '11 turn Aim out, : \ And, when before your eyes I 've set Aim, | If you don't find Aim blacA, I I '11 ea^ Aim." I He sai^ ; I then full before their sigh*, | Product the beas^, | and lo ! — 't was white x ! | Both stared : | the man look'd wondrous wise — J "My children," | 'the chameleon cries, j (Then first the creature found a tongue) | 2 " You all are righz, I and all are wrong* : | When next you tal& of what you view, j Thin/i others see as well as you* : | Nor wonder if you find thaZ none/ , | Prefers your eye-sigh^ to Ais own v ." | 24 278 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. THE INVOCATION. [Written after the death of a sister-in-law.J (MRS. HEMANS.) Answer me, burning stars of night'! \ Where hath the spirit gone, | Tha*, pas* the reach of human sigh*, | E'en as a breeze, hath flown*? | And the stars answer'd me, — | "We roll In ligh*, and power on higlr ; j Bu*, of the never-dying soul', | Ask things that cannot die v !" | O many-toned, and chainless wind' I \ Thou ar* a wanderer free', | Tell me if thou its place cans* fine?', | Far over moun*, and sea v ? I And the wind murmur'd in reply, — | " The blue deep I have cross 'd', \ And met its barks, and billows higlv, | Bu* no* wha* thou has* los* v /" \ Ye clouds tha* gorgeously repose | Around the setting sun% | An swer ! | have ye a home for those | Whose earthly race is run'? | The brigh* clouds answer 'd, — | " We depar* x , We van'ish from the sky*; | Ask wha* is deathless in thy hear* x , | For tha* which canno* die^ !" I SpeaA-, then, thou voice of God within ! I Thou of the deep low tone^ ! | An swer me ! I through life's restless din', | Where hath the spiri* flown? | And the voice answer'd, — | "Be thou still*! Enough to know is giv M 'n; | Clouds, winds, and stars their tas/t fulfil, — j Thine is to trus* in Heav/n !" I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 279 HAPPY FREEDOM OF THE MAN WHOM GRACE MAKES FREE. (COWPER.) He is the freeman, whom the trutlr makes free ; | And all are slaves beside. I There 's not a chain | Thai hellish foes, confederate for his harm, | Can wind around Aim, I bui he caste it off j With as much ease as Samson his green withes. | He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, | and, though poor, perhaps, J compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, \ Calls the delightful scenery all his own. | His are the moun tains ; | and the vaHeys his ; j And the resplendent riv ers : | his to enjoy I With a propriety thai none can feel, | Bui who, with filial confidence inspired, I Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, | And, smiling, say, — | " My Father made them all !" | Are they noi his by a peculiar righ^, | And by an emphasis of in teresi his, | Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy v , | Whose heari with praise', | and whose exalted mind j With worthy thoughts of thai unwearied love | Thai plann'd, and buili, | and still upholds a world J So clothed with beauty, for rebellious man* ? I Yes v — | ye may fill your ganners, | ye thai reap The loaded soils I and ye may waste much good In senseless rioi ; I bui ye will not find In feasi', I or in the chase x , I in song', or dance', | A liberty Me his, I who, unimpeach'd Of usurpation, I and to no man's wrong, | Appropriates nature as his Father's work, | And has a richer use of yours than you. | He is indeed^ a freeman : I free by birtlv Of no mean city, I plann'd or ere the hills v 280 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Were buili, | the fountains o v pen'd, | or the sea i With all Ms roaring multitude of waves. 1 His freedom is the same in ev'ry state ; | And no condition of this changeful life, | So manifold in cares, | whose ev'ry day Brings its own evil with ii, I makes it less* ; | For he has wings ] thai neither sickness', pain', Nor pemury I can cripple, or confine* : | No nook so narrow | bui he spreads them there With eases I and is at large* : | the oppressor holds His body bound, | but knows not whai a range His spirit ta&es, | unconscious of a chain* ; j And thai to bind him, | is a vain attempt, | Whom God delights in, | and in whom he dwells . | THE EXILE OF ERIN. (CAMPBELL.) There came to the beach, a poor exile of E^rin ; | The dew on his thin robe, was heavy, and chill* ; | For Ms country he sigh'd when at twilighi repairing, | To wander alone by the wind-beaten hiU . | Bui the day-star attracted Ms eye's sad devotion ; | For it rose on Ms own native isle of the ocean, | Where once, in the fervour of youth's warm emotion, | He sung the bold anthem of Erin go bragh. | Sad is my faie ! (said the heari-broken stranger) , The wild-deer, and wolf to a coveri can flee ; | Bui I have no refuge from famine, and dan*ger : j A home, and a country remain noi to me v — | Never again in the green sunny bowers, | Where my forefathers liv'd, I shall I spend the sweei hours*, | Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, | And stride to the numbers of Erin go bragh ! | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 281 Erin, my country ! | though sac?, and forsaken, | In dreams v I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ; | Bui, alas ! in a far foreign land, I awaken, | And sigh for the friends thai can meet me no more,. | O cruel fate ! | wilt thou never replace me j In a mansion of peace | where no perils can chase' me? j Never again shall my brothers embrace^ me, — | They died to defend me, | or live to deplore^ ! | Where is my cab m-door, | fast by the w T ildx wood ? \ Sisters, and sire, did ye weep for its fall' ? I Where is the mother thai look'd on my childhood ? | And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all ? | O my sad soul ! long abandon'd by pleasure, | Why did it dote on a fasi-fading treasure ! j Tears, like the rain'-drops, may fall without measure; | But rapture, and beauty they cannoi recalK j Yet all its fond recollections suppressing, j One dying wish my lone bosom shall drawv : [ Erin ! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing ! j Land of my forefathers ! I Erin go bragth ! | Buried, and cold, when my heart stills Aer motion, j Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the o cean ! j And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion — j Erin ma vournin ! — | Erin go bragh !* I THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE, WHO FELL AT THE BATTLE OF CORUNNA. (WOLFE.) Noi a drum was heard, nor a funeral note", | As his corse to the rampart we hunried ; I Not a soldier discharg'd h is farewell shot" | O'er the grave where our hero we buried. | * Ireland my darling ! — Ireland for ever 24* 282 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. We buried Aim darkly at dead of nigh^, I The sods with our bayonets turning, I By the struggling moonbeam's misty ligh*, | And the lantern dimly burning. | No useless coffin enclos'd Ais breast, j Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, we bound* Aim ; | But he lay like a warrior taking Ais rest, | With Ais martial cloaA; around Aim. | Few, and short were the prayers we said; | And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; | But we steadfastly gaz'd on the face of the dead; | And we bitterly thought of the morrow. | We thought, as we hallow'd Ais narrow bed, | And smooth'd down Ais lonely pillow, | ThaZ the foe, and the stranger would tread o'er Ais head ; | And we far away on the billow. | Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone, | And o'er Ais cold ashes upbraid Aim ; | But nothing he '11 reck, if they let Aim sleep on | In the grave where a Briton has laid Aim. | But half of our heavy tasA was done, | When the clocA told the hour for retiring; | And we knew by the distant, and random gun, | Thai the foe was sullenly firing. | Slowly, and sadly we laid Aim down | From the field of Ais fame, fresh, and gory : | We carv'd not a linex, — | we rais'd not a stones I Bui left Aim alone in Ais glory. | THE HEAVENS AND THB EARTH SHOW THE GLORY AND THE WISDOM OF THEIR CREATOR. THE EARTH HAP- pily adapted to the nature of man. (goldsmith.) The universe may be considered I as the palace in which the Deity resides; | and the earth, as one of its PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 283 apartments. I In this, all the meaner races of animated nature I mechanically obey N /am ; I and stand ready to execute fas commands without hesitation. | Man alone is found refractory : j he is the only being, | endued with a power of contradicting these mandates. | The Deity was pleased to exert superior power i in creating him a superior beting ; | a being endued with a choice of good, and e x vil ; I and capable, in some measure, | of co-operating with fas own intentions. | Man, there- fore, | may be considered as a limited creature, | en- dued with powers, I imitative of those residing in the Deity. I He is thrown into a world t\mt stands in need of fas help N ; I and he has been granted a power | of pro- ducing harmony from partial confusion, i If, therefore, we consider the earth | as allotted for our habitation, | we shall find, tha£ much has been given us to enjoy, I and much to anient ; ! thaZ we have ample reasons for our gratitude, | and many for our in- dustry. | In those grea£ outlines of nature, I to which art cannot reach, I and where our greatest efforts mus* have been ineffectual, | God himself has finished every thing | with amazing grandeur, and beauty. I Our beneficent Father j has considered these parts of nature as peculiarly fas own\ ; I as parts which no creature | could have skill, or strength to amend x ; | and he has, therefore, made them incapable of alteration, I or of more perfect regularity. I The heavens, and the firma- ment | show the wisdom, and the glory of the Work- man. | Astronomers, who are best skilled in the sym- metry of systems, I can find nothing there that they can alter for the better. | God made these perfect, I be- cause no subordinate being j could correct their defects. ] When, therefore, | we survey nature on this side, | nothing can be more splendid, more correct, or amaz- ing. | We there behold a Deity | residing in the mids£ of a universe, I infinitely extended everyway, i animat- ing all, I and cheering the vacuity with fas presence. | We behold an immense, and shapeless mass of matter, j 284 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. formed into worlds by his power, I and dispersed a^ in- tervals, | to which even the imagination cannot travel. I In this greaZ theatre of Ais glory, I a thousand suns, lifte our own, I animate their respective systems, | ap- pearing, and vanishing a£ Divine command. | We be- hold our own bright luminary, I fixed in the centre of its system, I wheeling its planets in times proportioned to their distances, | and a£ once dispensing light, heat, and action. | The earth also is seen with its twofold motion ; I producing by the one, the change of seasons ; j and, by the other, the grateful vicissitudes of day, and nighz. I With wha£ silent magnificence is all this per- formedv / | with wha£ seeming ease* ! I The works of art are exerted with interrupted force ; I and their noisy progress discovers the obstructions they receive* ; j hut the earth, with a silent, steady rotation, | succes- sively presents every part of its bosom to the sun- ; | at once imbibing nourishment, and light | from that parent of vegetation, and fertility. | But not only provisions of heat, and ligh^ are thus suppliedx ; I the whole surface of the earth is covered with a transparent atmosphere I that turns with its motion, | and guards it from external injury. I The rays of the sun are thus broken into a genial warmth ; | and, while the surface is assisted, | a gentle heat is pro- duced in the bowels of the earth, | which contributes to cover it with verdure. I Waters also are supplied in healthful abundance, I to support life, and assist vegeta- tion, j Mountains rise to diversify the prospect, I and give a current to the stream. | Seas extend from one continent to the other, | replenished with animals tha£ may be turned to human support* ; I and also serving to enrich the earth with a sufficiency of vapour. I Breezes fly along the surface of the fields, I to promote health, and vegetation. I The coolness of the evening invites to rest' ; | and the freshness of the morning renews for labour. | Such are the delights of the habitation I that has been PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 285 assignee? to man v : j without any one of these, | he musi have been wretchred ; | and none of these | could his own industry have supplied. I Bui while, on the one hand, | many of /?is wants are thus kindly furnished, | there are, on the other, I numberless inconveniences to excite his industry. I This habitation, ) though provided with all the conveniences of air, pasturage, and water, | is bui a desert place, without human cultivation. I The lowest an imal finds more conveniences in the wilds of nature, I than he who boasts himself their lord. | The whirlwind, the inundation, and all the asperities of the air, | are peculiarly terrible to man, I who knows their consequences, | and, at a distance, dreads their ap- proach. | The earth itself, ] where human ari has noi pervaded, | puts on a frightful, gloomy appearance. | The forests are dar&, and tangled ; | the meadows are overgrown with ranA; weeds^ ; | and the brooks stray without a determined channel. I Nature, thai has been kind to every lower order of beings, | seems to have been neglectful with regard to him* : | to the savage uncontriving man, | the earth is an abode of desolation, ) where Ais shelter is insufficient, | and his food preca- rious. ] A world, thus furnished with advantages on one side, ) and inconveniences on the other, I is the proper abode of reason, | and the fittest to exercise the industry | of a free, and a thinking creature. | These evils, which art can remedy, | and prescience a guard against, | are a proper call for the exertion of Ms faculties ; I and they tend still more | to assimilate him to his Creator. | God beholds, with pleasure, I thai being which he has made, | converting the wretchedness of Ais natural situa- tion | into a theatre of triumph ; | bringing all the head- long tribes of nature I into subjection to his wilk ; I and producing thai order, and uniformity upon earth, | of which his own heavenly fabric is so brighi an ex- ample. | a Pr£'sh6-£ns, 286 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. CHARACTER OF PITT. ( ROBERTSON.) The secretary stood alone* : ! modern degeneracy had not reached Aim. | Original, and unaccommodating, | the features of Ais character, had the hardihood of an- tiquity. | His august mind over-awed majesty ; J and one of Ais sovereigns' 1 i thought royalty so impaired in Ais presence, I that Ae conspired to remove Aim I in order to be relieved from Ais superiority. | No state chica- nery, 5 | no narrow system of vicious politics, I no idle contest for ministerial victories, I sunk Aim to the vul- gar level of the grea^ ; | but over-bearing, persuasive, and impracticable, 1 his object was England, I his am- bition was fame*. | Without dividing, he destroyed* party ; I without cor- rupting, he made a venal age unanimous. | France sunk beneath Aim. I With one hand Ae smote the house of Bourbon, | and wielded in the other, the democracy of England, j The sight of Ais mind w r as infinite ; I and Ais schemes were to affect, | not England, I not the pre- sent age only, | but Europe, and posterity. | Wonder- ful were the means by which these schemes were ac- complished — | always seasonable, I always adequate, | the suggestions of an understanding | animated by ar- dour, | and enlightened by prophecy. | The ordinary feelings which ma/ce life amiable, and indolent, | were unknown* to Aim. I No domestic diffi- culties, I no domestic weakness reached* Aim; I but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, | and unsul- lied by its intercourse, | he came occasionally into our system, | to counsel, and to decide. | A character so exalted, | so strenuous, I so various, | so authoritative, I astonished a corrupt age — I and the treasury trembled at the name of Vitt I through all Aer classes of venality. I Corruption imagined, indeed, | 3 S&v'er-ini. b She-kcYnftr-re. c Untractable. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 287 that she had found defects' in this statesman, | and talked much of the inconsistency of fas glory, | and much of the ruin of his victories ; | hut the history of Ais country, | and the calamities of the enemy, | an- swered, and refuted her. \ Nor were his political abilities his only talents : | his eloquence was an era in the senate, I peculiar, and sponta neous, | familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments,| and instinctive wisvdom ; | not like the torrent of De- mosthenes, | or the splendid conflagration of TuHy ; | it resembled sometimes the thunder, I and sometimes the music of the spheres. | Li&e Murray, I he did not con- duct the understanding I through the painful subtlety of argumentation ; | nor was he, like Townshend, | for ever on the racA; of exertion ; I hut rather lightened upon the subject, | and reached the point by the flash- ings of the mind', | which, like those of his eye, | were felt, hut could not be followed, j Upon the whole, | there was in this man | something that would create', | subvert', I or refornr ; | an under- standing, | a spirit, I and an eloquence, I to summon mankind to society, | or to hreak the bonds of slavery asun v der, — I something to rule the wilderness of free minds I with unbounded authority; | something that could establish, | or overwhelm^ empire, I and stride a blow in the world, I that should resound through the universe. | clarence's dream. (shakspeare.) Scene — A Room in the Tower of London. [Enter Clarence and Brackenbury.] Brack. Why looks your grace so heav'ily to-day ? | Clar. O I have pass'd a miserable nigh&, | So full of fearful dreams, | of ugly sights, | That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I 288 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. I would no* spent? another such a nigh*, | Though 't were to buy a world of happy days* : | So full of dismal terror was the time . | Brack. Wha* was x your dream, my lord'? | I pray you, telh me. | Clar. Methough* that I had broken from the tow'er, | And had embark'd to cross to Bur.gundy; j And, in my company, my brother Glos^ter, j Who from my cabin, I tempted me to walA: Upon the hatches ; | thence we look'd toward England, | And cited up a thousand heavy times, | During the wars of York, and Lancaster, | Tha* had befallen us. 1 As we pac'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, | Methough* that Gloster stunrbled, I and, in falling, Struck me | tha* though* to stay Aim, I over-board | Into the tumbling billows of the main. | O methough* wha* pain it was to drownv ! | Wha* dreadful noise of water in mine ears' ! a I Wha* sights of ugly death within mine eyes* ! b I Methough* I saw a thousand fearful wrecks', | A thousand men 1 that fishes gnaw'd* upon, | Wedges of gold v , | grea* airchors, | heaps of pearl', i Inestimable stones^ I unvalued jew v els, | All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea v . | 'Some lay in dead men's skulls* ; | 2 and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabi*, | there were crep*, (As 't were in scorn of eyes) I reflecting gems x | Tha* woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, | And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. | Brack. Had you such leisure in the time of death, | To gaze upon these secrets of the deep'? I Clar. Methough* I had* ; | and often did I strive To yield the ghos^; | bu* still the envious flood Kep* in my soul, | and would not let it forth I To seek the empty, vas*, and wand'ring air*, | Bu* smother'd i* within my panting bu\k, \ Which almost burs* to belch it in the sea. I ■ Mine ears; not mine-nenrs. l Mine eyes; not mine-nize. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 2fi<> Brack. Awak'd you not with this sore ag'ony ? | Clar. O iw, | my dream was lengthen'd after life t ; | then began the tempest to my soul* : | 1 pass'd, methoughz, the melancholy flood | With that grim ferryman which poets write of, | Unto the kingdom of perpetual nigm\ | The first that there did greet my stranger soul, ] Was my great father-in-law, i renowned Warwick, | Who cried aloud, — I " WhaZ scourge for perjury | Can this dark monarchy I afford false Clarence V f | And so * he vanish'd. j Then came wand'ring by | A shadow like an an gel, ! w T ith bright hair Dabbled in blood* ; I and he shriek'd out aloud, — | " Clar ence is come, — | falser fleeting, perjur'd Clarence| That stabb'd me in the field by Tewks bury ; — | Seize on Aim, furies, | take him to your torments !" | With that, methough* a legion of foul fiends Envi ron'd me, | and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, \that, with the very noise', | I trembling wak'd v , | and, for a season after, | Could not believe but that I was in helk, — | Such terrible impression made my dream v . | Brack. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you — | I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. | Clar. O Brackenbury, I have done these things | That now give evidence against my soul, | For Ed K ward's sake ; I and, see how he requites me ! — { I pray thee, gentle keeper, I stay by N me — I My soul is heavxy, | and I fain would sleep v . ! Brack. I will, my lord. | [clarence reposes himself on a chair - Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, | Makes the night morning, | and the noon-tide nighZ v | Princes have but their titles for their gloTies — | An outward honour for an inward toil ; | And, for unfek imaginations, | They often feel a world of restless cares* : | So that, between their titles, I and low name, | There 's nothing differs I but the outward fame . | 25 290 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. TO THE URSA MAJOR. (h. ware, jun.) With wha/ a stately, and majestic step \ That glorious constellation of the north j Treads its eternal circle ! | going forth Its princely way amongst the stars | in slow, And silent brightness. | Mighty one, all-hail ! | I joy to see thee, on thy glowing path, | WalA; like some stou£, and girded grant — J stern, Unwearied, resolute, | whose toiling fooZ Disdains to loiter on its destined way. | The other tribes forsake their midnight tracA, | And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave v ; | But thou dost never close thy burning eye, | Nor stay thy steadfast step. I Hut on*, | still on v , | While systems change, | and suns retire, I and worlds Slumber, and wake, | thy ceaseless march proceeds. | The near horizon tempos to res* in vain. | Thou, faithful sentinel, | dost never qui* Thy long-appointed watch ; | but, sleepless still, j Dost guard the nVd \ight of the universe, | And bid the north for ever know its place. | Ages have witness'd thy devoted trus£, | Unchang'd, unchanging. | When the sons of God | Sen* forth that shou* of joy, | which rang thro' heaven, | And echoed from the outer spheres | tha* bound The illimitable universe, | thy voice Join'd the high choTus ; | from thy radiant orbs | The glad cry sounded, I swelling to his praise, I Who thus had cas* another sparkling gem, | Little, bu* beautiful, | amid the crowd Of splendours | tha* enrich his firmament. | As thou art now | so was* thou their, the same. | Ages have roll'd their course; | and time grown grey*; J The seas have chang'd their beds 1 ; | the eternal hills PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 291 Have stoop'd with age i ; I the solid continents Have left their banks 1 ; | and man's imperial works — I The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, I which had flung Their haughty honours in the face of heaven, | As if immortal — j have been swep* away 1 — | Shatter'd, and mould'ring, | buried, and forgo*. | Bu* time has shed no dimness on thy front, | Nor touch'd the firmness of thy tread*: ] youth, strength, And beauty still are thine — | as clear, as bright, | As when the Almighty Former sen* thee forth, | Beautiful offspring of Ais curious skill, | To watch earth's northern beacon, | and proclaim The eternal chorus of Eternal Love. I I wonder as I gaze. I Tha* stream of ligh*, ] Undimm'd, unquench'd', — I just as I see thee now,— | Has issued from those dazzling points, ; thro' years Tha* go bacft far into eternity. | Exhausfless a flood / | for ever spen*, I renew'd 1 For ever ! | Yea, and those refulgent drops, j Which now descend upon my lifted eye, | Left their far fountain twice three years ago. | While those wing'd particles | whose speed outstrips The flight of though*, | were on their way, I the earth Compass'd its tedious circui* round, and round, | And in the extremes of annual change, I beheld Six autumns fade, i six springs renew their bloom* : j So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve 1 ! | So vas* the void through which their beams descend / 1 Yea, glorious lamps of God, I he may have quench'd* Your ancien* flames, I and bid eternal nigh* 1 Res* on your spheres* ; I and ye* no tidings reach This distan* planet. | Messengers still come, | Laden with your far fire, I and we may seem To see your lights still burning ; ' while their blaze 1 Bu* hides the blac& wreck of extinguish'd realms 1 , | Where anarchy, and darkness long have reign'd. | a Eg£-hast'l£s ; not egi-zkst'lbs. b Re-ftil'dient ; not re-fal'dSant. 292 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Ye* wha* is this | which to the astonish'd mind Seems measureless, | and which the baffled though* Confoundsv ? | A spans I a poin*', I in those domains Which the keen eye can traverse. \ Seven stars Dwell in tha* brilliant cluster; I and the sigh* Embraces all a* once>; | ye* each from each | Recedes as far as each of them from earth* — | And ev'ry star from ev'ry other burns No less remote^. | From the profound of heaven, | Untravell'd e'en in thought | keen, piercing rays Dart through the void, | revealing to the sense | Systems, and worlds unnumber'd. | TaAe the glass, And search the skies. | The opening skies pour down Upon your gaze, | thicA: showers of sparkling fire* — | Stars, crowded, | throng'd', | in regions so remote, | Thai their swift beams — | the swiftest things tha* be N — | Have travell'd centuries on their flight to earth. | Earth, sun, and nearer constellations, I wha* Are ye v , | amid this infinite extend, I And multitude of God's mos* infinite works ! | And these are suns, ! — I vas*, central, living firess — | Lords of dependent systems, — | kings of worlds' I Thai wai* as satellites upon their power, I And flourish in their smile v . | AwaAe my soul, | And meditate the wonder! I Countless suns Blaze round thee, I leading forth their countless worlds* ! 1 Worlds in whose bosoms living things rejoice, | And drinA the bliss of being | from the fount Of all-pervading Love. — | Wha* mind can know, | Wha* tongue can utter, all their multitudes ! I Thus numberless in numberless abodes ! | Known but to thee, bless'd Father ! I Thine they are, | Thy children, and thy care^ ; I and none o'erlook'd 1 Of thee ! — I no, not the humbles* soul I tha* dwells Upon the humbles* globe ! which wheels its course PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 293 Amid the giant glories of the sky, | hike the mean mote that dances in the beam ) Amongst the mirror'd lamps ! which fling Their wasteful splendour from the palace wall. | None, none escape the kindness of thy care.; | All compass'd underneath thy spacious wings — | Each fed, and guided by thy powerful hand . | Tell me, ye splendid orbs, a — | as from your throne, | Ye mark the rolling provinces that own Your sway, — | what beings fill those bright abodes.? | How form'd^ — \ how gift ed — | what their pow.ers — j their stated — | Their happiness — | their wis.dom ? j Do they bear The stamp of human na'ture ? I Or has God Peopled those purer realms | with lovelier forms, | And more celestial minds. ? I Does Innocence Still wear her native, and untainted bloom' ? | Or has Sin breath'd Ais deadly blight abroad, | And sow'd corruption in those fairy bow.ers 1 1 Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire' ; j And Slavery forg'd Ais chains' ; I and Wrath, and Hate, \ And sordid Selfishness, | and cruel Lus£, | Leagued their base bands I to tread out light, and truth, J And scatter'd wo where Heaven had planted joy' ? J Or are they yet all Par adise, | unfallen, And uncorrup^ ? ! existence 6 one long joy, | Without disease upon the frame, I or sin Upon the heart, ! or weariness of life. — | Hope never quench'ds | and age unknown', j And death unfear'd^ ; | while fresh, and fadeless youth j Glows in the light from God's near throne of love J j Open your lips', ye wonderful, and fair ! | SpeaA x , | speak'! I the mysteries of those living worlds Unfold*/ ! Nolan'guage? I Everlasting ligfo, a Splendid orbs ; not splendid dorbs. b Eg-Mst'ens ; not eg-iist'- tins. 25* 294 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION.. And everlasting silence ? I Yet the eye May read, and understand. I The hand of God \ Has written legibly wha* man may know, | The glory of the Maker. I There it shines, Ineffable, I unchangeable ; I and man, I Bound to the surface of this pigmy glo&e, | May know, and as/c no more. | In other days, | When death shall give the encumber'd spirit wings, Its range shall be extended ; | it shall roam, Perchance, I amongst those vas£, mysterious spheres,- Shall pass from or6 to orb, I and dwell in eaclv, | Familiar with its children, — ! learn their laws, | And share their states I and study, and adore | The infinite varieties of bliss, And beauty, | by the hand of Power Divine, I Lavish'd on all its works. | Eternity Shall thus roll on | with ever fresh delight; | No pause of pleasure, or improvement ; | world On world ) still opening to the instructed mind | An unexAausted a u niverse, I and time But adding to its glories ; I while the soul, I Advancing ever to the Source of Wght, And all perfection, | lives', adores', and reigns*, | In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss. | PERPETUAL ADORATION. (MOORE.) The turf shall be my fragrant shrines; | My temple, Lord, thaZ arch' of thine ; | My censer's breath, the mountain airs v , | And silent thoughts, my only prayers. | My choir shall be the moonlight waves, j When murmuring homeward to their caves*; "Un-egi-hast'&d; not un-fegi-zast'cd. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 295 Or when the stillness of the sea', | E'en more v than music breathes of thee,. | I '11 seek, by day, some glade unknowns ] All lighi, and silence, Yike thy thronev;| And the pale stars shall be, at nigh*', | The only eyes thai watch my riie v . | Thy heaven, on which 't is bliss to look', \ Shall be my pure, and shining boo&>, | Where I shall read, in words of flames | The glories of thy wondrous name . | I '11 read thy anger in the racA;' | Thai clouds awhile the day -beam's tracAv ; j Thy mercy, in the azure hue' | Of sunny brightness, breaking through . j There 's nothing bright, above', below*, | From flowers thai bloom', to stars thai glows | Bui in its lighi my soul can see | Some feature of thy Deity ! | There 's nothing dar&, below, above v , | Bui in its gloom I trace thy love* ; | And meekly waii thai momeni, when | Thy touch shall turn all brighi' again. | SCENE FROM TIZARRO. (kotzebue.) Pizarro and Davilla in conversation. [Enter Gomez.] Piz. How now, Gomez ! | whai bring est thou ? I Gom. On yonder hill, among the palm-trees, I we have surprised an old cacique^ : | escape by flight he could x not, | and we seized him, and his attendant un- Kas-sik', a prince, or nobleman, among the Indians. 296 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. resisting ; | yet his lips breathed nought but bitterness, and scorn. | Piz. Drag him before us. I [Gomez leaves the tent, and returns, conducting Oro- zembo, and attendants, in chains, guarded.] What art thou, stranger? | Oro. First tell me which among you, | is the cap'tain of this band of robbers. | Piz. Ha ! I Dav. Madman ! I tear out his tongue,* or else | Oro. Thou 'k hear some truth. | Dav. (showing ins poignard.) Shall I noi plunge this into his heart' ? I Oro. (to Pizarro.) Does your army boasi many such heroes as this' ? | Piz. Audacious ! | This insolence has sealed thy doom. : | die thou shak 1 , grey-headed ruffian. | Bui firsi confess what thou knowesi. | Oro. I know thai which thou hasi just assured me of— | thai I shall die. | Piz. Less audacity, perhaps, | mighi have preserved thy life. | Oro. My life is as a withered tree* : I it is not worth* preserving. | Piz. Hear me, ok? man. | Even now', we march againsi the Peruvian army. I We know there is a secret path I thai leads to your strong-hold among the rocks* : | guide us to thai*. | and name thy reward. | If wealth be thy wish | Oro. Ha! ha! ha! | Piz. Dost thou despise my offer ? | Oro. Thee, and thy offer. I Wealth. ! I I have the wealth of two dear gallani sons'; I I have stored in heaven, the riches which repay good actions here'; | and still my chicfesi treasure do I bear aboui* me. | Piz. What is that 1 I Inform* me. I Oro. I will* ; | for it never can be thine* — I the trea- sure of a pure, unsullied conscience. | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 297 Piz. I believe there is no other Peruvian who dares speak as thou* dosi. | Oro. Would I could believe there is no other Span- iard who dares act as thou* dost. I Gom. Obdurate Pagan ! | How numerous is your army 1 j Oro. Couni the leaves of yonder fores*. 1 Dav. Which is the weakest pari of your camp ? \ Oro. It has* no weak pari ; I on every side 't is forti- fied by justice. | Piz. Where have you concealed your wives, and children ? | Oro. In the hearts of their husbands, and their fa- thers. | Piz. Knowesi thou Alonzo ? I Oro. Know Aim ? I Alonzo ? I Know Aim ? | Our nation's benefactor ! I The guardian angel of Peruv ! | Piz. By whai has Ae merited that title ? | Oro. By not resembling thee. | Dav. Who is this RoHa, joined with Alonzo in com- mandv ? \ Oro. I will answer thai ; I for I love to hear, and to repeai the hero's name. I Rolla, the kinsman of the king, | is the idol of our army; I in war, a tiger, | chafed by the hunter's spear ; I in peace, | more gentle than the unweaned lamb. | Cora was once betrothed* to Aim ; I but finding that she preferred Alonzo, | he re- signed Ais claim*, | and, I fear, Ais peace*, | to friendship, and to Cora's happiness ; I yet still Ae loves Aer with a pure, and holy fire. | Piz. Roman*tic savage ! I I shall meei* this Rolla soon'. | Oro. Thou hadsi better noi. — I The terrors of Ais noble eye would strike thee dead. I Dav. Silence ! or tremble ! | Oro. Beardless robber ! I I never yei have trembled before man' : I why should I tremble before thee*, | thou less* than man ! | 298 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Dav Another wor d, audacious heathen, and I striAe. j Oro. Stride', Christian ! I Then boas* among thy fellows — | I too have murdered a Peruvian ! | Dav. Ven geance seize* thee ! [stabs him. Piz. Hold* / | Dav. Goulds* thou longer have endured his insults? | Piz. And therefore should he die untortured ? \ Oro. True* ! I Observe, young man', | your unthink- ing rashness | has saved me from the rac&* ; \ and you yourself have los* the opportunity of a useful lesson : | you migh* have seen with wha* cruelty | vengeance would have inflicted torments — I and with wha* pa- tience | virtue would have borne them. | [Okozembo is borne off, dying. Piz. Away* ! — | Davilla, if thus rash a second time | Dav. Forgive the hasty indignation which | Piz. No more v . I Unbind that trembling wretch : | let him. depart ; | 't is well he should report the mercy | which we show to insolen* defiance. I Hark*! ! Our guard, and guides approach. | [Soldiers march through the tents. Follow me, friends ! | Each shall have his post as- signed* ; | and ere Peruvia's god shall sink beneath the main, | the Spanish banners, bathed in blood, | shall floa* above the walls of vanquished Quito. a | (MRS. SOUTHEY.) Launch thy bar&\ Mariner! | Christian, God speed* thee ! | Le£ loose the rud'der-bands — | Good angels lead* thee ! | Se£ thy sails waVily, | Tem*pes*s will come* ; I Steer thy course steadily, I Christian, steer home* ! I 'Ke'uS. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 299 Loo/c to the weath er-bow, I Breakers are round thee ; | Let fall the plummet now, I Shallows may ground thee. ] Reef in the fore'-sail, them ! | Hoi of the helnv fas**/ I So* — | let the vessel ware x — J There swep* the blas^. ) WhaZ of the nigh^, watch'man ? J Wha£ of the nigh^ ? \ 'Cloudy — i all quiet — | No land' ye* — | all 's right;/ j Be wakeful, I be vig'ilan* — | Danger may be At an hour when all seemeth J Secures* to thee. | How* ! | gains the leaA; so fas*' ? J Clean ou* the hole 7 * — | Hois* up thy merchandise, | Heave ou* thy gold" ; — I There* — I le* the ingots go^ — | Now the ship rights*; | Hurrah* ! | the harbour 's near* — | Lo, the red lights* ! | Slacken not sail ye* x j At inlet or is] and ; \ Straight for the bea con a steer, | Straight for the highland; | Crowe? all thy cairvass on*, | Cut through the foanr — I Christian ! cast an chor now* — I Heaven is thy home^ ! | a Be'kn. 300 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. (gray.) The curfew tolls* — | the knell of parting day t ! | The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea* ; | The ploughman homeward plods his weary way', | And leaves the world to darkness, and to me. | Now fades the glimm'ring landscape* on the sighi*, | And all the air a solemn stillness holds', | Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight', | And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds, : | Save, thai from yonder ivy-mantled tower, | The moping owl does to the moon complain j Of such as, wand'ring near her secret bower, | Molest her ancient, solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms'; I thai yew-tree's shade*, I Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap 1 , | Each in his narrow cell for ever laic?', | The rude forefathers of the hamlei sleep v . | The breezy call of incense-breathing morn*, | The swallow, twitt'ring from the straw-buili shed,, | The cock's shrill claVion, or the echoing honr, | No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed . | For them no more the blazing hearth* shall burn, | Or busy housewife b ply her evening care, ; | Nor children run to lisp their sire's return*, | Or climb Ins knees', the envied kiss* to share. | Oft did the harvest to their sick*le yield,; | Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe* has bro/ce,; | How jocund did they drive their team afield M | How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy strode ! j a L&nd'sk&p ; not lind'sklp. h H&ft'wlf PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 301 Let not ambition moc& x their useful toil, | Their homely joys, and destiny obscure* ; | Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile', | The short, and simple annals of the poor . | The boasZ of heraldry, | the pomp of pow'er, | And all thai beauty, I all that wealth' , e'er gave*, j Awak, alike, the inevitable hour* — | The paths of glory M lead but to the grave v . | Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fauli/, | If mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise', } Where, through the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault', | The pealing anthem swells the note of praise^, j Can storied urn, or animated bust', \ BacA; to its mansion call the fleeting breathv ? | Can honour's voice provo/ce the silent dusis j Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death v ? | Perhaps in this neglected soot, is laid' | Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire x ; | Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'di, J Or wa&'d to ecstasy the living lyre^. | But knowledge to their eyes Aer ample page', | Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unrolL ; | Chili penury repress'd* their noble rage', | And froze the genial current of the soul x . | Full many a gem of purest ray serene', | The dar&, unfathom'd caves of o cean , bean ; j Full many a flower , is born to blush unseen*, | And waste its sweetness on the desert air v . a | Some village Hampden thai, with dauntless breast, [ The little tyrani of his fields^ withstood* ; | Some mute, inglorious Milton, here may rest' ; \ Some Cromwell, guiltless of Ais country's blood . j a Desert air ; not dez-zer-tair. 26 302 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. The applause of list'ning senates to command', | The threats of pain, and ruin to despise*, | To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land', And read their hist'ry in a nation's eyes', | Their lot forbade, — I nor circumscrib'd alone' | Their growing virtues ; | but, their crimes' confin'd', ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a thrones ! And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, ; ] The struggling pangs of conscious truth 1 to hide,, | To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame x , | Or heap the shrine of luxury, and pride', | With incense kindled at the muse's flame . I Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife', I ('Their sober wishes never learn'd* to stray 7 ,) 2 Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life', | They kept the noiseless tenor of their way v . | Yet e'en these bones, from insuU to protect, | Some frail memorial still', erected nigh', | With uncouth rhymes, and shapeless sculpture deck'd', | Implores the passing tribute of a sigh . | Their names', their years', spell'd by the unletter'd muse',| The place of fame, and elegy, supply, ; | And many a holy text around she strews', | That teach the rustic moralist to die v . | For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey', | This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd', | Left the warm precinc/s of the cheerful day', | Nor cast one longing, ling'ring loo/c behind ? ) On some fond breast the parting soul relies v ; | Some pious drops the closing eye requires, ; | E'en from the tomb N , the voice of nature cries', | E'en in our ash cs live their wonted fires . | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 303 For thee who, mindful of the unhonour'd dead', i Dost in these lines their artless tale relate', ] If, chance, by lonely contemplation led', \ Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate', | Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, | " Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn', | Brushing, with hasty step, the dews away, | To meet the sun upon the upland lawn . | There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech' | Thai wreathes its old fantastic roots so high', | His listless length at noontide would he stretch', | And pore upon the brook that bubbles by x . | Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn', | Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove* ; | Now droop'ing, wo'ful, wan., I like one forlorn', I Or craz'd with cares | or cross'd in hopeless love . One morn I miss'd* Aim on the accustom'd hilh, | Along the heath', | and near his fav'rite treex ; | Another came ; | nor yet beside the rill', j Nor up the lawn', | nor at the wood* was he x . | The next, with dirges due, in sad array, | Slow through the church-yard patfr, we saw him bornex — | Approach, and read' ('for thou cansZ read') 2 the lays | 'Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn ." THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth', | A youth to Fortune, and to Fame, unknown ; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth', | And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. | 304 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Large was his bounty, and his soul, sincere x — | Heaven did a recompense as largely send^ — | He gave to Mis'ry all he had', a tear ; | He gain'd from Heav'n | ("twas all he wish'd*) friend v . | No farther seek fas merits to disclose', | Or draw his frailties from their dread abodes | ( l There they alike in trembling hope repose ) | 2 The bosom of his Father, and Ais God . | DOUGLAS S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. (home.) My name is Norval ; ] on the Grampian hills | My father feeds Ais flocksv ; j a frugal swain I Whose constant cares | were to increase his store', | And keep his only son, myself, at home^ : | For I had heard of battles, | and I long'd To follow to the field some warlike lord* ; | And heaven soon granted wha£ my sire denied / I This moon, which rose las£ nighz, round as my shield, | Had not yet fill'd her horns, | when by her ligh£, | A band of fierce barbarians from the hills, I Rush'd like a torrent down upon the vales I Sweeping our flocks, and herds, j The shepherds fled For safety, and for succour. | I, alone*, | With bended bow, and quiver full of arrows, | Hover'd abou* the enemy, I and mark'd The road he took, : | then hasted to my friends 1 | Whom, with a troop of fifty chosen men, | I met advancing. I The pursuit T led, | Till we o'ertoo^ the spoil-encumber'd foe v . j We fought, and conquer'd. | Ere a sword was drawn, | An arrow from my bow had pierc'd their chief | Who wore, tha£ day, the arms which now I* wear . | Returning home in triumph, I I disdain'd* The shepherd's slothful life*; I and, having heard | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 305 That our good king had summon 72 his bold peers | To lead their warriors to the Carron side, I left my father's house.. | and took with me j A chosen servant I to conduct my steps, — | *Yon trembling cow ard who forsoo/c his master. I Mourneying with this intend, j I pass'd these towers, j And, heaven-directed, came this day to do | The happy deed that gilds my humble name. | THE GRAVE OF FRANKLIN. (>HSS C. H. WATERMAN.) No chisell'cf urn is rear'd to thee* ; | No sculpturd scroll enrolls its page | To tell the children of the free', | Where rests the patriot and the sage v . | Far in the city of the dead', | A corner holds thy sacred clay* ; | And pilgrim fee?, by reverence led', | Have worn a path that marks the way. | There, round thy lone, and simple grave', j Encroaching on its marble gray, j Wild plantain weeds, and tall grass wave, J And sunbeams pour their shadeless ray v . | Level with earth, thy letter'd stone' — j And hidden oft by winter's snow* — | Its modes? record tells alone' ; Whose dust it is that sleeps below v .* | That name 's enough — that honour d name' | No aid from eu logy requires, : J 'T is blended with thy country's fame', I And flashes round her lightning spires^, j * The body of Franklin lies in Christ-Church burying-ground, corner of Mulberry and Fifth street, Philadelphia. The inscription upon his tomb-stone is as follows : BENJAMIN 1 Ann > FRANKLIN Oft# DEBORAH S 300 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION State-Hohse, Philadelphia.* DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. (Jefferson.) When, in the course of human events, | \t becomes necessary for one people | to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, I and to as- sume among the powers of the earth I the separate and equal station I to which the laws of nature and of na- ture's God entitle them, I a decent respect to the opin- ions of mankind I requires that they should declare the causes I which impel N them to the separation. I We hold these truths a to be self-ev^ideni : I thai all men are created e^qual ; | thai they are endowed by their Creator | with certain inalienable 13 rights' ; | thai among these | are life', liberty, and the pursuit of happiness ; ] thai to secure these rights, | governments are insti- * The Declaration of Independence was publicly read from the steps of the State-House, July 4th, 1776. * Trii^s; not truTHi. 'In-aryen-a-bl. c (jiuv'urn-ments. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 307 tuted among meiL, I deriving their jusi powers | from the consent of the gov*erned ; I thai whenever any form of government \ becomes destruc tive of these ends, | it is the right of the people I to alter or abohish it, | and to instituie new v government, | laying its foundation on such principles, ! and organizing its powers in such form, | as to them shall seem most likely I to effect their safety and hapNpiness. I Prudence, indeed, will dic- tate j thai governments long established | should not be changed for lighi and transient causes ; | and accord- ingly all experience hath shown | thai mankind are more disposed to suffer I while evils are sufferable, | than to righi themselves I by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. | Bui when a long train of abuses and usurpations 11 I pursuing invariably the same objeci, I evinces a design to reduce them under abso- luie despotism, | it is their righis | it is their du ty \ to throw off* such governmeni, I and to provide new guards for their future security. I Such has been the patieni sufferance of these colonies ; d | and such is now the necessity | which constrains them to alter their former systems of governmeni. ) The history of the preseni king of Greai Britain I is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, 6 I all having in direci objeci | the esta- blishmeni of an absoluie tyranny over these states, j To prove this, j lei facis be submitted to a candid world. | He has refused his asseni to laws | the mosi whole- some and necessary for the public good. | He has forbidden his governors to pass laws | of im- mediaie and pressing importance, I unless suspended in their operation I till his asseni' should be obtained ; | and, when so suspended, | he has utterly neglected to attend* to them. | He has refused to pass other laws I for the accommo- dation of large districts of people, | unless those people j a Tran'£nt. h Yu-zur-pa'shuni. c De-sin'. d K61'6-n&2. 308 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. would relinquish the righz of representation in the legislature," i a righi inestimable to them, | and formi- dable to tyrants only. | He has called together legislative bodies i at places unirsual, I uncomfortable, | and distant from the deposi- tory 11 of their public records, | for the sole purpose | of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures, j He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly | for opposing with manly firmness I his invasions on the rights of the people. | He has refused for a long time after such dissolu- tions | to cause others to be elected, 1 whereby the legis- lative powers, | incapable of annihilation, I have re- turned to the people aZ large for their exercise, I the state remaining, in the mean time, I exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without | and convulsions within. | He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these states ; I for thai purpose I obstructing the laws for naturalization" 1 of for eigners, I refusing to pass others | to encourage their migrations hitlrer, | and raising the conditions I of new appropriations of lands. | He has obstructed the administration of justice I by refusing his assent to laws | for establishing judiciary 6 powers. | He has made judges dependent on his will alone* | for the tenure' of their of fices, | and the amount, and payment of their salaries. | He has erected a multitude of new offices, I and sent hither swarms of new officers I to harass" our people and eai out their substance. | He has kepi among us in times of peace' I standing armies | without the consent of our legislatures. \ He has affected to render the military j independent of, | and superior to the civ il power, j He has combined with others | to subject us to a ^LldJ'ls-li-tshir. b D£-p6i'£-tftr-£. • An-nl-hfc-li'sh&n. <> Mt- tshd-r&l-e-ik'sh&n. c D2u-dish'a-re. f Tc'nur. e Harris. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 309 jurisdiction | foreign 11 to our constitu tions | and unac- knowledged by our laws 1 , I giving his assent | to their ac£s of pretended legislation I for quartering large bo- dies of armed troops v among us ; | for protecting them by a mock tri'al I from punishment I for any murders which they should commit I on the inhabitants of these statesv ; | for cutting off our trade 1 with all parts of the worlofx ; I for imposing tax es on us without our consent ; I for depriving us in many cases I of the benefits of trial by jury ; | for transporting us beyond seas v I to be tried for pretended offences ; | for abolishing the free system of English laws I in a neighbouring province, I establish- ing therein I an arbitrary government, | and enlarging its boundaries, I so as to render it at once an example | and fit instrument 1 for introducing the same absolute rule into these colonies ; i for taking away our char ters,| abolishing our mos* valuable laws 1 , | and altering fun- damentally | the forms of our governments ; | for sus- pending our own legislatures, I and declaring them- selves 1 invested with power to legislate for us | in all cases whatsoever. | He has abdicated government here I by declaring us out of his protection I and waging war against us. j He has plundered our seas 1 , | ravaged our coasts', | burn* our towns 1 , | and destroyed the lives of our peoxple. | He is at this time 1 | transporting large armies of fo- reign mer cenaries | to complete the works of death', | desola'tion, and tyranny I already begun 1 | with circum- stances of cruelty and perfidy | scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages | and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation. | He has constrained our fellow-citizens | taken captive on the high seas I to bear arms against their country, | to become the executioners of their friends and breth- ren, | or to fall themselves by their hands. | He has excited domestic insurrec tions among us, I a F6r'r3n. 310 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. and has endeavoured to bring 1 on the inhabitants of our frontiers | the merciless Indian sav v ages, I whose known rule of warfare | is an undistinguished destruc- tion | of all a'ges, sexes, and conditions. | In every stage of these oppressions I we have peti- tioned for redress in the most humble terms. : I our re- peated petitions | have been answerer/ only by repeated injuries. | A prince whose character is thus marked | by every ac£ which may define a tyrant I is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. | Nor have we been wanting in attentions to our Brit- ish brethren. I We have warned them from time to time | of attempts by their legislature I to extend an un- warrantable jurisdiction over us. I We have reminded them of the circumstances | of our emigration and set- tlement here: | we have appealed to their native jus- tice and magnanimity, I and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred, I to disavow' 3 these usurpations | which would inevitably interrupt our connexion and correspondence. I They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. | We must therefore acquiesce in the necessity I which de- nounces our separation ! I and hold them as we hold the rest' of mankind, 1 enemies in war, | in peace friends. | We therefore I the representatives of the United States of America | in General Congress assembled, | 'appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world I for the rectitude of our intentions, | 2 do in the name, | and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, | so- lemnly publish and declares | tha£ these united colonies are, | and of right ough/ to be, I free and independent states* ; I tha/ they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crowns I and that all political connexion | between them and the state of Grea£ Britain i is, and ough^ to be, | totally dissolved. ; I and tha£ as free and Dls-^-vou. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 311 independent states, | they have full power to levy war', | conclude peace', | contract allrances, | establish com s - merce, I and to do all other acZs and things | which independent states may of righ^ do. | And for the support of this declaration, | 'with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, 1 2 we mutually pledge to each other | our lives', | our for- tunes, | and our sacred hon our. | THE JOURNEY OF A DAY, A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE. (DR. JOHNSON.) Obidah, the son of Abensina, I left the caravansera early in the morn'ing, | and pursued his journey through the plains of Indos.tan. | He was fresh, and vigorous with res^ ; | he was animated with hope' ; | he was in- cited by desire v ; I he walked swiftly forward over the va'lleys, | and saw the hills gradually rising before, him. | As he passed along, I his ears were delighted with the morning song of the bird of par.adise; | he was fanned by the last flutters of the sinking breeze^, | and sprinkled with dew from groves of spices. | He some- times contemplated the towering height of the oafa, | monarcA of the hills. ; | and sometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the prinrrose, | eldest daughter of the spring. : I all his senses were grat'ified, | and all care was banished from Ais hearf v . j Thus he went on, I till the sun approached his me- ridian, | and the increased heat preyed upon his strength. ; | he then looked round shout him I for some more commodious path. | He saw, on his right hand, a grove x I that seemed to wave its shades as a sign of invitation ; | he entered it, I and found the coolness, and verdure irresistibly pleasant | He did not, however, | forged whither he was travel- ling^ | but found a narrow way, bordered with flowers, j Tr&v'il-llng. 312 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. which appeared to have the same direction with the main road ; | and was pleased, I thai by this happy- experiment, | he had found means to unite pleasure with bu v siness, a | and to gain the rewards of diligence I with- out suffering its fatigues. | He, therefore, still continued to walk for a time, | without the leasi remission of his ardour, | except thai he was sometimes tempted to sto£> I by the music of the birds I which the heai had assembled in the shade* ; | and sometimes amused Aimself | with plucking the flowers | thai covered the banks on either side, | or the fruii that hung upon the branches. | At lasi, the green path began to decline from its firsi tendency, I and to wind among hills, and thickets, j cooled with fountains, and murmuring with waterfalls. | Here Obidah paused* for a time,, I and began to con- sider | whether it were longer safe | to forsake the known, and common trackv ; | but remembering thai the heai was now in its greatest violence, I and that the plain was dusty, and uneven, | he resolved to pursue the new* path | which he supposed only to make a few meanders, | in compliance with the varieties of the ground, | and to end at lasi in the common road. | Having thus calmed his solicitude, I he renewed Ais pace v , | though he suspected thai he was noi gaining ground. I This uneasiness of his mind, | inclined him to lay hold on every new objeci, I and give way to every sensation I thai mighi soothe, or diveri him. | He listened to every eclro; I he mounted every hill for a fresh pros peci ; | he turned aside to every cascade* ; | and pleased Aimself | with tracing the course of a gentle river | thai rolled among the trees, I and watered a large region I with innumerable circumvolutions. | In these amusements, I the hours passed away unac- counted; I his deviations had perplexed his mcnvory, | and he knew noi towards whai poini to trav el. | He Bli'nfes. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 313 stood pensive, and confused, I afraid to go forward, | lest he should go wrongs I ye£ conscious that the time of loitering was now pas^. I While he was thus tor- tured with uncertainty, | the sky was overspread with clouds* ; | the day vanished from before 1 him ; I and a sudden tempest gathered round his head . j He was now roused by Ais danger, j to a quick, and painful remembrance of Ms folly; 1 he now saw how happiness is lost, | when ease N is consulted ; j he lament- ed the unmanly impatience | tha£ prompted 7/im to seeA; shelter in the grove^ ; I and despised the petty curiosity | that led him on from trifle to trifle. I While he was thus reflecting, I the air grew blacker, | and a clap of thunder I broke his meditation, j He now resolved to do what yet remained in his powder, | to tread hack the ground which he had passed, | and try to find some issue I where the wood might open into the plain. | He prostrated Aimself on the ground, j and recommended Ais life to the Lord of Na- ture. | He rose with confidence, and tranquillity, | and pressed on with resolution. | The beasts of the desert were in motion, I and on every hand I were heard the mingled howls of rage', and fear', — | and ravage, and expiravtion. I All the horrors of darkness, and solitude, surrounded him : | the winds roared in the woods, | and the torrents tumbled from the hills, j Thus forlorn, and distressed, | he wandered through the wild, I without knowing whither he was goring, | or whether he was every moment | drawing nearer to safety, or to destruction. | At length, not fear, i but labour , began to overcome* him ; I his breath grew short, and his knees treirubled ; | and he was on the point of lying down in resignation to his fate\ \ when he beheld, through the brambles, I the glimmer of a taper. | He advanced towards the ligh£ x ; | and finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, I he called humbly at the door, | and obtained admission. I The 27 314 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. old man set before h\m I such provisions as he had col- lected for /iimself , | on which Obidah fed with eager- ness, and gratitude. | When the repast was over, | " Tell me," said the hermk, | " by what chance thou has* been brought hither? j I have been now twenty years^ | an inhabit- ant of the wilderness, | in which I never saw a man before." | Obidah then related the occurrences of his journey, I without any concealment, or palliation. | " Son," said the hermit, | " \et the errors, and follies, | the dangers, and escape of this day, | s'mh deep into thy heart. 1 Remember, my son, I thai human life' is the journey of a day. | We rise in the morning of youth, | full of vigour, and full of expectation; | we set forward with spirit, and hope^, I with gaiety, and with diHgence,| and travel on awhile I in the direct road of piety, | to- wards the mansions of rest J " In a short time, we remit our fervour, | and endea- vour to find some mitigation of our du^ty, | and some more easy means of obtaining the same end. I We then relax our vig our, I and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance ; I but rely upon our own constancy, | and venture to approach | what we resolve never to touch. | We thus enter the bowers of ease, | and repose in the shades of security. | "Here the heart softens, | and vigilance subsides^ | we are then willing to inquire I whether anoth er advance cannoZ be made, I and whether we may not, at least, \ turn our eyes N upon the gardens of pleasure. | We approach them with scruple, and hesitation ; I we enter them, I but enter timorous, and trembling ; ! and always hope to pass through them I without losing the road of virtue, | which, for a while, we keep in our sigh^, | and to which we purpose to return. | But temptation suc- ceeds* temptation, | and one compliance, prepares us for anotlver; | we in time lose the happiness of inno- cence, | and solace our disquiet with sensual gratifica- tions. I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 315 " By degrees, | we lei fall the remembrance of our original intension, I and qui? the only adequate objeci of rational desire. I We entangle ourselves in busi- ness/ | immerge ourselves in luxury, I and rove through the labyrinths 1 ' of inconstancy; | till the darkness of old age\ begins to invade^ us, | and disease, and anxiety obstruct our way. | We then look back upon our lives with horror, I with sorrow, I with repentance ; I said wish, | but too often vain ly wish, | thai we had not for- saken the ways of virtue. I " Happy are they, my son, I who shall learn from thy example, I not to despair. ; c I but shall remember, | thai, though the day is past, I and their strength is wasted, | there yet remains one v effort to be made : | thai reformation is never hopeless, I nor sincere endea- vours ever unassisted ; | thai the wanderer may at length return, | after all his errors ; I and thai he who implores strength, and courage from above, | shall find danger, and difficulty give way before. Aim. I Go now, my son, to thy repose. ; I commii thyself to the care of Omnipotence ; I and when the morning calls again to toil, | begin anew thy journey, and thy life.'* | NIGHT THOUGHTS. (young.) The bell strikes one^. I We take no noie of time | Bui from its loss. : ! to give ii then a tongue | Is wise x in man. | As if t an amgel d spo&e, j I feel the solemn sound . j If heard arighi, | It is the knell of my departed hours. | Where are v they 1 I With the years beyond the flood. It is the signal thai demands despatch^ : I How much is to be done^ ! I My hopes, and fears Stari up alarm'd*, | and o'er life's narrow verge a Bl£'nes. b L&b-bbr-rinth. c D£-spar'. d As if an angel; not az-zif-fan-an'gel. 316 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. hook down' — | on wha£> ? | A fathomless abyss*, | A dread eter»nity ! I how surely mine t ! | And can eternity belong to me', | Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour' ? I How pooi\, | how riclv, | how abject, | how august; | How com plicate, ! how won derful is man ! | How passing wonder he I w 7 ho made* Aim such ! I Who center'd in our mafre such strange extremes^ ! | From diff'renZ natures, marvellously 11 mix'd, | Connexion exquisite of distant worlds* ! j Distinguished lin^; in being's endless chain* ! ' Midway from nothing to the De x ity ! | A beam etherial, sullied, and absorpZ* / 1 Though sullied, and dishonour'^, | still divine* ! ! Dim miniature' 1 of greatness absolute ! | An heir of glo ry ! I a frail child of dus^ / | Helpless immortal ! | insect infinite ! I A worm* ! | a God* ! — 1 1 tremble at myself, | And in myself am lost. | At home, a stranger, I Thought wanders up, and down, c | surpris'd', | aghast | And wond'ring at Aer own. | How reason reels' ! | O what a miracle to man is man*, | Triumphantly distress'^ / J what joy' ! ) what dread* / | Alternately transported, and alarm'd* / | WhaZ can preserve* my life 1 I or what destroy* ? | An an gel's arm can7 snatch me from the grave* ; | Legions of angels can'Z confine* me there. I THE LAND THAT WE LIVE IN. (C. W. THOMSON.) The land thai we live* in — I the land thai we live' in, | O ! where is the heart does not thin/t it more fair', | Than the brightest of scenes to which nature has given | Her clearest of sun and her purest of air v ? | a Mar'v$l-lus-l£. b Mln'6-tur. c Up and down ; not up-pan-down. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 317 Italia may boasi of her evergreen bowsers, | Her sky without clouds and her rose-scented breeze,, I And Persia may vauni of her gardens and flow*ers, | Bui there is one spoi which is better than these^, — | 'Tis the land thai we live* in — I the land thai we live' in, | O ! where is the heart does not think it more fair', I Than the brightest of scenes to which nature has given I Her clearest of sun and her purest of air . I Romantic and wild are proud Scotia's mountains, j And fair are the plains of imperial France* — | And Grana'da may tell of her groves and Aer foun tains,l And mingle the mirth of the song and the dancex — | The climes of the Easi may exhibit their treasures, | Their palm-trees may bloom and their waters may fair— | And music may waAe to enliven their pleas ures, I But there is one spot which is dearer than all, — | 'T is the land thai we live* in — I the land thai we live' in, I O ! where is the heari does noi thinA ii more fair', | Than the brightesi of scenes to which nature has given Her clearesi of sun and her puresi of air, ? I WOLSEYS SOLILOQUY. (SHAKSPEARE.) Farewell, ] a long farewell, I to all my great ness ! | This is the staie of man» : I to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope* ; I to-morrow, blos'soms, | And bears Ais blushing honours thicA* upon Aimv : I The third day, comes a frosi*, | a kiPling frosi* ; | And, — w 7 hen Ae thinks, i good, easy man, | full surely His greatness is a ripening, — | nips Ais rooi*, | And then Ae falls, | as I* do. I I have ventur'd, | LiAe little wanton boys thai swim on bladders, i This* many summers, | in a sea of glo*ry ; | * Thus it stands in Shakspeare. 27* 318 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Bui far beyond my depth : I my high-blown pride \ At length broke un v der me ; I and now has left me, | Weary, and old with service, | to the mercy Of a rude stream, I thai must for ever hide» me. I Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I I haie v ye ; | I feel my hear* new open'd : | O how wretched Is thai poor man ) thai hangs on prin ces' favours ! | There is,* betwixi thai smile he would aspire to, | Thai sweei aspeci of princes, | and their ruin, | More pangs, and fears I than wars, or women havev ; And when he falls, | he falls like Lucifer, | Never to hope again . | (SHAKSPEARE.) Cromwell, I did noi thin& to shed a tear I In all my miseries ; | but thou hasi forc'd me, | Oui of thy honesi truth, | to play the woman. | Let's dry v our eyes v ; I and thus far hear me,Crom»welI: I And, — 'when I am forgotten, as I shall be, I And sleep in dull, cold marble, j where no mention Of me more musi be heard of, — 1 2 say, L taughi thee, | Say, WoVsey, — I thai once trod the ways of glory, I And sounded all the depths, and shoals of honour, — | Found thee a way, j out of ^is wreck, ! to rise x in, ; | A sure, and safe v one, I though thy master miss'd it. | MarA; bui my fall, I and thai thai ru m'd me. I Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; I By thai sin fell the an gels, I how can man then, I The image of /?is Maker, I hope to wiir by 'L ? \ Love thyself lasiv- I cherish those hearts thai hate" thee; | Corruption wins noi more than honesty. | Still in thy righi hand carry gentle peace, | To silence envious tongues. I * Thii6 it stands in Shakspeare. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 319 Be jus^, an d fear no^ : j Le£ all the ends, thou aim'sZ at, j be thy country's, | Thy God's', and truths ; I then if thou fall's^, oh Crom- well, | Thou fall's^ a blessed martyr. I O Cromwell, I Had I serv'd my God | with half the zeal I serv'd my king, | he would not in mine age I Have left me naked to mine enemies. I REPLY TO WALPOLE. (PITT.*) The atrocious crime of being a young man, | which the honourable gentleman has, I with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, | I shall neither attempt to palliate, nor deny^ ; | but contend myself with wishing | that I may be one of those | whose follies cease with their youtlr, I and not of that number 1 who are igno- rant in spite of experience. I Whether youth can be imputed to a^ny man as a reproach, | I will not assume the province of determin- ing: | hut surely age may become justly contemptible, | if the opportunities which it brings I have passed away without improvement, j and vice appears to prevail | when the passions have subsided, j * This illustrious father of English Oratory, having expressed himself, in the House of Commons, with his accustomed energy, in opposition to one of the measures then in agitation, his speech pro- duced an answer from Mr. Walpole, who, in the course of it, said, " Formidable sounds, and furious declamation, confident assertions, and lofty periods, may affect the young and inexperienced ; and, perhaps, the honourable gentleman may have contracted his habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own age, than with such as have had more opportunities of acquiring knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating their sentiments." And he made use of some expressions, such as vehemence of gesture, theatrical emotion, &c, applying them to Mr. Pitt's manner of speaking. As soon as Mr. Walpole sat down, Mr. Pitt got up and replied as above. 320 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, | continues still to blunder, | and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, 1 is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempts i and deserves not that his grey head' | should secure him from insult. | Much more is he to be abhorred, | who, as he has advanced in age | has receded from virtue, I and be- comes more wicked with less temptation : | who prosti- tutes himself for money which he cannot enjoys I and spends the remains of his life | in the ruin of Ais coun- try. | But youth is noi my only crime. I I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. I A theatrical part | may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, | or a dissimulation of my real sentiments, I and an adop- tion of the opinions and language of another man. | In the first sense, | the charge is too trifling to be confuted, [ and deserves only to be mentioned | to be despised. | I am at liberty, | like every othrer man, I to use my own Ian guage ; I and though I may, perhaps, have some ambition ; | yet to please this gentleman, j I shall not lay myself under any restraint, | or very solicitously I copy his diction, or his mienv, | however matured by age, I or modelled by experience. | If any man shall, I by charging me with theatrical behaviour, I imply thai I utter any sentiments but my own, | I shall treat him as a calumniator I and a vil- lain : | nor shall any protection I shelter him. from the treatment which he deserves. | I shall, on such an occasion, I without scru v ple, i trample upon all those forms | with which wealth and dignity entrench them- selves : | nor shall any thing but age I restrain my re- sen^meni : I age which always brings one privilege : | thai of being insolent and supercilious I without punish- ment | But with regard to those whom I have offended, I I am of opinion | thai if I had acted a borrowed pari, | I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 321 should have avoided their censure. I The heat that offended them I is the ardour of conviction, I and that zeal for the service of my country | which neither hope nor fear | shall influence me to suppress. I I will not sit unconcerned I while my liberty is inva N ded, | nor looA; in silence upon public robbery. | I will exert my endeavours, at whatever hazard, | to repel the aggressor, I and drag the thief to justice, | what power soever may protect the villany, ] and who- ever may partafte of the plunder. | GENIUS. (akenside.) From heaven my strains begin ; I from heaven descends The flame of genius to the human breast, I And love, and beauty, and poetic joy, And inspiration. J Ere the radiant sun Sprang from the east, | or 'mid the vaulZ of night | The moon suspended her serener lamp ; I Ere mountains, woods, or streams adorn'd the glo&e, j Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore ; | Then lived the Almighty One ; I then, deep retired, In his unfathom'd essence, I view'd the forms, | The forms eternal of created things ; | The radiant sun, ! the moon's nocturnal lamp, | The mountains, woods, and streams, | the rolling glo&e, I And Wisdom's mien celestial. I From the firsZ Of days, | on them his love divine he fix'd, | His admiration : I till, in time complete, | What he admired and loved, | his vital smile Unfolded into being. | Hence the breath Of life informing each organic frame, j Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves : | Hence Yight and shade alternate ; | warmth and cold, } And clear autumnal skies, and vernal showers, | And all the fair variety of things. | 322 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Bui not alike to every mortal eye I Is this greai scene unveil'd. | For, since the claims Of social life, | to different labours urge The active powers of man, I with wise intend | The hand of Nature on peculiar minds | Imprints a different bias, I and to each Decrees its province in the common toil. | To some she taught the fabric of the sphere, | The changeful moon, I the circuit of the stars, | The golden zones of heaven : I to some she gave To weigh the moment of eternal things, | Of time, and space, and Fate's unbroken chain, | And will's quick impulse ; | others by the hand I She led o'er vales and mountains, I to explore Whai healing virtue | swells the tender veins Of herbs and flowers ; | or whai the beams of morn Draw forth, | distilling from the clifted rind In balmy tears. | Bui some to higher hopes Were destin'd ; | some within a finer mould She wrought, I and temper'd with a purer flame : | To these the Sire Omnipotent I unfolds The world's harmonious volume, I there to read The transcript of himself. I On every pari I They trace the brighi impressions of his hand ; | In earth or air, I the meadow's purple stores, | The moon's mild radiance, I or the virgin's form, | Blooming with rosy smiles, I they see pourtray'd Thai uncreated beauty | which delights The Mind Supreme. | They also feel her charms, Enamour'd ; I they partaAe the eternal joy. I GREATNESS. (akenside.) Say, why was man so eminently raised | Amid the vasi creation 1 I why ordain'd Thro' life and death I to dari his piercing eye, I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 323 With thought beyond the limii of Ais frame, I Bui thai the Omnipotent mighi send Aim forth, | In sighi of mortal and immortal powers, I As on a boundless theatre, I to run The greai career of justice : to exali His generous aim to all diviner deeds; I To chase each partial purpose from Ais breasi ; I And thro' the misis of passion and of sense, | And thro' the tossing tide of chance and pain, | To hold Ais course unfaltering, I while the voice Of Truth and Virtue, | up the steep ascend Of Nature, I calls Aim to Ais high reward, | The applauding smile of Heaven? I Else wherefore burns In mortal bosom this unquenched hope, I Thai breathes from day to day sublimer things, | And mocks possession ? I Wherefore darts the mind, | With such resistless ardour I to embrace Majestic forms, | impatient to be free ; | Spurning the gross control of wilful mighi ; | Proud of the strong contention of Aer toils ; | Proud to be daring ? I Who bui rather turns To Heaven's broad fire Ais unconstrained view, I Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame ? I Who thai, from Alpine heights, | Ais labouring eye Shoots round the wide horizon, I to survey Nil us or Ganges rolling Ais brighi wave I Thro' mountains, plains,| thro' empires blacA with shade,! And continents of sand, I will turn Ais gaze J To mark the windings of a scanty rill I Thai murmurs ai Ais feei ? \ The high-born soul | Disdains to resi Aer heaven aspiring wing | Beneath its native quarry. | Tired of earth And this diurnal scene, | she springs alofi Thro' fields of air ; I pursues the flying storm ; | Rides on the volley'd lightning thro' the heavens ; | Or, voked with whirlwinds and the northern blasi, | 324 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Sweeps the long tracZ of day. | Then high she soars The blue profound, I and hovering round the sun, I Beholds him pouring the redundant stream Of light ; | beholds Ais unrelenting sway | Bend the reluctant planets to absolve The fated rounds of time. | Thence far effused | She darts her swiftness up the long career Of devious comets : | thro' its burning signs Exulting | measures the perennial wheel Of Nature, I and looks bac/c on all the stars, | Whose blended lighi, | as with a milky zone, | Invests the orient. I Now amazed she views The empyreal waste, I where happy spirits hold, I Beyond this concave heaven, | their calm abode ; I And fields of radiance, | whose unfading lighz | Has travell'd the profound six thousand years, | Nor yet arrives in sigh* of mortal things. | E'en on the barriers of the world untired | She meditates the eternal depth below, I Till, half recoiling, | down the headlong steep She plunges ; I soon o'erwhelm'd and swallowed up I In thai immense of being. I There her hopes ResZ aZ the fatal goal : | for, from the birth Of mortal man, I the sovereign Maker said, j Thai not in humble nor in brief delight, I NoZ in the fading echoes of renown, | Power's purple robes, I nor Pleasure's flowery lap, | The soul should find enjoyment ; I but, from these Turning disdainful to an equal good, I Thro' all the ascend of things enlarge her view, | Till every bound at length should disappear, | And infinite perfection close the scene. | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 325 PAPER. [a conversational pleasantry.] (franklin.) Some wit of old — 1 such wits of old there were, I Whose hints show'd meaning, I whose allusions care, By one brave stroAe, | to mark all human kind, | Call'd clear blan& paper ev'ry infant mine? ; | Where, still, as opening sense ^er dictates wrote, I Fair Virtue put a seal, | or Vice, a blot, j The thought was happy, pertinent, and true ; | Methinks a genius mighi the plan pursue. | I (can you pardon my presumption ?), | I, No wit, no genius, | yet, for once, will try. j Various the paper, various wanZs produce ; | The wanZs of fashion I elegance, I and use. I Men are as various ; j and if righ* I scan, I Each sort of paper j represents some man. | Pray note the fop, I half powder and half lace ; j Nice, as a band-box were fas dwelling place ; | He 's the gik-paper, | which apart you store, I And lock from vulgar hands in the scrutoire. a Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, | Are copy-paper, | of inferior worth ; | Less priz'd, I more useful, I for your des/c decreed ; | Free to all pens, | and prompt at ev'ry need. I The wretch, whom avarice bids to pinch and spare, Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, i Is coarse brown paper, I such as pedlars choose J To wrap up wares, | which better men will use. I Take next the miser's contrast, \ who destroys I Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys ; | a Scrutoire, a case of drawers for writings. 28 326 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Will any paper match Aim ? I Yes, throughout ; | He 's a true sinking paper, | pasi all doubi. | The retail politician's anxious thought I Deems this side always righi, | and thai star& nought ; ' He foams with censure ; I with applause he raves ; | A dupe to rumours, I and a tool of knaves ; | He '11 wani no type his weakness to proclaim, I While such a thing as foolscap has a name. I The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, | Who picks a quarrel if you step awry, | Who can'i a jesi, a hint, or look, endure ; I Whai is he ? | Whai ? | Touch-paper to be sure. | Wha^ are our poets, | ta/te them as they fall, ] Good, | bad, I rich, I poor, | much read, I not read at all 1 \ Them and their works in the same class you '11 find ; | They are the mere waste-paper of mankind. | Observe the maiden, I innocently sweei ; I She 's fair white paper, 1 an unsullied sheei; } On which the happy man whom fate ordains, | May write his name, I and take her for his pains. | One instance more, I and only one, I '11 bring : | 'T is the greai man who scorns a little thing ; | Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are //is own, | Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone : | True, genuine, royal -paper is his breast; | Of all the kinds most precious, | purest, I best. | MOSES SMITING THE ROCK. (W. A. VAN VRANKEN.) On the parch'd plains | the tribes of Israel lay, | Fatigued' and sad, I to raging thirst a prey : | In thai lone region, I in thai deseri drear, | No streamlet's murmur stole upon the ear; I No broo& pellucid glanc'd its tight along, | To cheer the vision of thai fainting throng. | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 327 Nought me* the eye | save Horeb's vock thai frown'd, J In gloomy grandeur, on the scene around, j At its broad base, I behold the patriarch stand, | And with his rod, ai the Divine command, | Smite its dar& froni ; | o'erawed by Power Supreme, I Its riven breast expelPd a copious stream ; | The new-born waters pour'd their torrents wide, | And foam'd, and thunder'd, down its craggy side. | At the glad sound each Hebrew mother there | Her infani clasp'd, | and looked to Heaven a prayer : | Joy thrill'd all hearts ; J for lo ! the sunbeams play, | In radiant glory, on the flashing spray | Thai dash'd its crystals o'er the rocky pile, 1 A beauteous emblem of Jehovah's smile. | TIME. (W. A. VAN VRANKEN.) My sileni and mysterious flight | Reveals each morn the glorious lighi I Thai gilds the passing year ; | I never stop to resi my wing : | Triumphant on the blasi I spring — | My plumage, dar& and sere. I Onward I speed my flighi sublime ; | Before me withers manhood's prime, | While pillar, dome, and tower, | And massy piles, and temples grand, I Lie crush'd beneath my iron hand — | Resistless is my power. | Remorseless boaster, hold / | thy wings | May sweep aside earth's mightiest things, | Mere creatures of an hour : I Thou cansi noi reach the Heavenly bloom, | Celestial tinis, and rich perfume, I Of virtue's lovely flower. | 328 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. TO THE AMERICAN FLAG. (drake and halleck.) When freedom from her mountain heigh* | Unfurl'd her standard to the air, | She tore the azure robe of nigh*, | And set the stars of glory there ! | She mingled with its gorgeous dyes | The milky baldric of the skies, I And striped its pure celestial white, | With streakings from the morning ligh* / | Then, from his mansion in the sun, | She called her eagle-bearer down, I And gave into Ais mighty hand | The symbol of her chosen land / | Majestic monarch of the cloud / | Who rear's* alof* thy regal form, | To hear the tempes* trumping loud, | And see the lightning lances driven, | When strides the warrior of the storm, | And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven ! I Child of the sun ! | to thee 't is given | To guard the banner of the free — j To hover in the sulphur smoke, | To ward away the battle-strode, | And bid its blendings shine afar, | hike rainbows on the cloud of war, I The harbinger of victory ! I Flag of the brave ! I thy folds shall fly, | The sign of hope and triumph high ! I When speaks the signal-trumpe*'s tone, I And the long line comes gleaming on : | Ere ye* the life-blood, warm and we*, | Has dimm'd the glistening bayone* — J Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn, | To where thy meteor glories burn, I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 329 And as Ms springing steps advance, I Catch war and vengeance from the glance ! | And when the cannon's mouthings loud, | Heave in wile? wreaths the battle-shroud, 1 And gory sabres rise and fall, | Like shoots of flame on midnight pall ! I There shall thy victor glances glow, | And cowering foes shall fall beneath | Each gallant arm that, strikes below | That lovely messenger of death ! | Flag* of the seas !| on ocean's wave, | Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave. I When death, careering on the gale, | Sweeps darkly round the swelling sail, I And frighted waves rush wildly back | Before the broadside's reeling rack ; | The dying wanderer of the sea | Shall look at once to heaven and thee, I And smile to see thy splendours fly, | In triumph o'er the closing eye. j Flag of the free heart's only home, I By angel hands to valour given ! I Thy stars have lit the welkin dome | And all thy hues were born in heaven ; | For ever float that standard sheet ! | Where breathes the foe but falls before us, | With freedom's soil beneath our feet, I And freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! I MOTIVES TO THE PRACTICE OF GENTLENESS. (BLAIR.) To promote the virtue of gentleness, | we ought to view our character with an impartial eye; I and to learn, from our own failings, | to give thaZ indulgence which in our turn we claim. | It is pride which fills the world with so much harshness and severitv. I In 28* 330 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. the fulness of self-estimation, I we forge* wha* we are. I We claim attentions to which we are not entitled. I We are rigorous to offences, I as if we had never offend- ed; | unfeeling to distress, | as if we knew no* what it was to suffer. I From those airy regions of pride and folly, | let us descend to our proper level. I Let us survey the natural equality | on which Providence has placed man with man, | and reflect on the infirmities common to all. | If the reflection on natural equality and mutual offences, I be insufficient to promp* hu- manity, | let us at leas* remember wha* we are in the sigh* of our Creator. I Have we none of tha* forbear- ance to give one another, | which we all so earnestly entrea* from heaven 1 | Can we look for clemency or gentleness from our Judge, | when we are so backward to show i* to our own brethren ? | Let us also accustom ourselves | to reflec* on the small momen* of those things I which are the usual in- centives to violence and contention. I In the ruffled and angry hour, I we view every appearance through a false medium. | The mos* inconsiderable poin* of interes* or honour, | swells into a momentous objec* ; | and the slightes* attach seems to threaten immediate ruin. I Bu* after passion or pride has subsided, | we \ook around in vain for the mighty mischiefs we dread- ed. I The fabric which our disturbed imagination had reared, I totally disappears. I Bu* though the cause of contention has dwindled away, I its consequences re- main. I We have alienated a friend; | we have em- bittered an enemy ; I we have sown the seeds of future suspicion, malevolence, or disgust. — I Let us suspend our violence for a momen*, I when causes of discord occur. I Let us anticipa*e tha* period of coolness, ' which, of itself, will soon arrive. I Let us reflec* how little we have any prospec* of gaining by fierce con- tention ; I bu* how muc'.i of the true happiness of life ) we are certain of throwing away. I Easily, and from the smalles* chin/c, I the bitter waters of strife are le* PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 331 forth ; | bui their course cannot be foreseen ; J and he seldom fails of suffering most from their poisonous effect, | who firsi allows them to flow. I ON THE IMPORTANCE OF ORDER IN THE DISTRIBUTION OF OUR TIME. (BLAIR.) Time we oughi to consider | as a sacred trusi com- mitted to us by God ; | of which we are now the de- positaries, I and are to render an account at the lasi. | Thai portion of \t which he has allotted to us, | is in- tended partly for the concerns of this world, | partly for those of the nexi. | Let each of these occupy, | in the distribution of our time, I thai space which pro- perly belongs to it. 1 Lei not the hours of hospitality and pleasure, I interfere with the discharge of our neces- sary affairs ; I and let not whai we call necessary affairs, | encroach upon the time which is due to devotion. | To every thing there is a season, | and a time for every purpose under heaven. I If we delay till to-morrow, whai ought to be done to-day, I we overcharge the morrow with a burden which belongs not to it. | We load the wheels of time, I and prevent them from carry- ing us along smoothly. I He who every morning plans the transactions of the day, | and follows out thai plan, | carries on a thread | which will guide Aim through the labyrinth of the most busy life. | The orderly arrange- ment of Ms time is like a ray of lighi, | which darts itself through all his affairs. I Bui, where no plan is laid, | where the disposal of time I is surrendered mere- ly to the chance of incidents, I all things lie huddled together in one chaos, | which admits neither of distri- bution nor review. | The firsi requisiie for introducing order into the managemeni of time, I is, to be impressed w T ith a jusi sense of its value. I Let us consider well how much depends upon ii, | and how fasi it flies away. I The 332 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. bulk of men are in nothing more capricious ant? incon- sistent, I than in their appreciation of time. | When they think of it as the measure of their continuance on earth, I they highly prize it, I and with the greatest anxiety seek to lengthen it out. I But when they view i* in separate parcels, | they appear to hold it in con- tempt, | and squander it with inconsiderate profusion. | While they complain that life is short, I they are often wishing its different periods at an end. | Covetous of every other possession, | of time only they are prodi- gal. | They allow every idle man to be master of this property, I and make every frivolous occupation wel- come | that can help them to consume it. | Among those who are so careless of time, | it is not to be expected | that order should be observed in its distribu- tion. I But, by this fatal neglect, I how many materi- als of severe and lasting regret I are they laying up in store for themselves ! I The time which they suffer to pass away in the midst of confusion, I bitter repentance seeks afterwards in vain to recall. I What was omit- ted to be done at its proper moment ! arises to be the torment of some future season. I Manhood is dis- graced by the consequences of neglected youth. I Old age, | oppressed by cares that belonged to a former period, | labours under a burden not its own. I At the close of life, I the dying man beholds with anguish thai his days are finishing, I when Ms preparation for eternity is hardly commenced. I Such are the effects of a disorderly waste of time, I through not attending to its value. I Every thing in the life of such persons is misplaced. I Nothing is performed aright, ! from not being performed in due season. I But he who is orderly in the distribution of //is time, | takes the proper method of escaping those manifold evils. ! He is justly said to redeem the time. | By proper management, he prolongs it. I He lives much in little space ; I more in a few years, than others do in many. I He can live to God and //is own soul, I and, PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 333 at the same time, j attend to all the lawful interests of the present work/. I He looks bac/c on the pas*, | and provides for the future. | He catches and arres*s the hours as they fly. | They are marked down for useful purposes, I and their memory remains. | Whereas those hours iieet by the man of confusion like a shadow. | His days and years are either blanks, | of which he has no remembrance, I or they are filled up with so confused and irregular a succession of unfinished trans- actions, | tha* though he remembers he has been busy, j yet he can give no account of the business which has employed Aim. 1 INDUSTRY NECESSARY TO THE ATTAINMENT OF ELOQUENCE. (ware.) The history of the world is full of testimony | to prove how much depends upon industry ; I no* an emi- nent orator has lived bu* is an example of i*. I Ye*, in contradiction to all this, | the almos* universal feel- ing appears to be, I tha* industry can effec* nothing, j tha* eminence is the resul* of accident, I and tha* every one mus* be contend I to remain jus* wha* he may hap- pen to be. | Thus multitudes, who come forward as teachers and guides, I suffer themselves to be satisfied with the mos* indifferen* attainments, | and a miserable mediocrity, I withou* so much as inquiring how they may rise higher, I much less making any at temp* to rise. | For any other ar* they would have served an ap- prenticeship, | and would be ashamed to practise i* in public before they had learned it. I If any one would sing, | he attends a master, J and is drilled in the very elementary principles ; ) and only after the mos* labori- ous process, I dares to exercise his voice in public, j This ^e does, | though he has scarce any thing to learn bu* the mechanical execution I of wha* lies in sensible 334 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. forms before the eye. | Bui the extempore speaker, | who is to invent as well as to utter, I to carry on an operation of the mind \ as well as to produce sound, | enters upon the wor/c without preparatory discipline, | and then wonders thai he fails ! | If he were learning to play on the flute for public exhibition, I whai hours and days would he spend in giving facility to fas fingers, I and attaining the power of the sweetest and most expressive execution ! I If he were devoting himself to the organ, I whai months and years would he labour, I thai he mighi know its com- pass, | and be master of its keys, I and be able to draw oui, at will, | all its various combinations of harmoni- ous sound, | and its full richness and delicacy of expres- sion ! | And yei he will fancy thai the grandest, | the most various and most expressive of all instruments, | which the infinite Creator has fashioned I by the union of an intellectual soul with the powers of speech, | may be played upon without study or practice ; I he comes to it a mere uninstructed tyro, I and thinks to manage all its stops, | and command the whole compass of its varied and comprehensive power ! I He finds famself a bungler in the attempt I is mortified at fas failure, | and settles it in fas mind for ever, thai the attempt is vain. | Success in every art, I whatever may be the natural taleni, I is always the reward of industry and pains. | Bui the instances are many, I of men of the finesi natural genius, | whose beginning has promised much, j but who have degenerated wretchedly as they ad- vanced, | because they trusted to their gifts, I and made no efforts to improve. | Thai there have never been other men I of equal endowments with Demosthenes and Cicero, | none would venture to suppose ; I bui who have so devoted themselves to their ari, | or become equal in excellence? I If those greai men had been conteni, like others, | to continue as they began, I and had never made their persevering efforts for improve- PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 335 men/, | what would their countries have benefited from their genius, I or the world have known of their fame ? I They would have been lost in the undistinguished crowd I thai sunk to oblivion around them. I THE DESTRUCTION OF SENACHERIB. (byron.) The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, | And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; | And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, ] When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. | LiAe the leaves of the forest when summer is green, | That host with their banners at sunset were seen : | "Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, | That host on the morrow i lay wither'd and strown. | For the angel of death I spread his wings on the blast, | And breath'd in the face of the foe as he pass'd ; I And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, | And their hearts but once heav'd, | and for ever were still! | And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, | But through them there roll'd not the breath of his pride ; | And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, | And cold as the spray on the rocA>beating surf. 1 And there lay the rider, | distorted and pale, 1 With the dew on Ais brow | and the rust on his mail ; | And the tents were all silent, I the banners alone, i The lances unlifted, | the trumpet unblown. | And the widows of Ashur | are loud in their wail, | And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; I And the might of the Gentile, | unsmote by the sword, j Hath melted like snow I in the glance of the Lord / | 336 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. LOCHINVAR.* (SCOTT.) O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, | Through all the wide border his steed was the best ; 1 And save his good broadsword, I he weapon had none, | He rode all unarm'd, I and he rode all alone. I So faithful in love, I and so dauntless in war, | There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. I He staid not for brake, I and he stopped not for stone, | He swam the Eske river | where ford there was none ; | But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, I The bride had consented, | the gal'lant came late : | For a laggard in love, I and a dastard in war, | Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. I So, boldly he entered the Netherby hall, | Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: | Then spoke the bride's father, I his hand on his sword, I (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) | " O come ye in peace here, | or come ye in war, | Or to dance at our bridal, | young lord Lochinvar?" | " I long woo'd your daughter, 1 my suit you denied ; | Love swells like the Sol way, I but ebbs like its tide ; f I And now am I come, I with this lost love of mine, I To lead but one measure, I drink one cup of wine. I There are maidens in Scotland, I more lovely by far, I That would gladly be bride I to the young Lochinvar." | * The ballad of Lochinvar is in a very slight degree founded on a ballad called "Katharine Janfarie," which may be found in the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border." t See the novel of Redgauntlet, for a detailed picture of some of the extraordinary phenomena of the spring-tides in the Sol way Frith. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 33? The bride kiss'd the goblet ; i the knight took it up, | He quaff'd off the wine, I and he threw down the cup. | She look'd down to blush, I and she look'd up to sigh, | With a smile on her lips, | and a tear in her eye. | He took her soft hand, | ere her mother could bar, — | " Now tread we a measure !" | said young Lochinvar. | So stately his form, I and so lovely her face, I That never a hall such a galliard a did grace: j While her mother did fret, | and her father did fume, | And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume ; | And the bride-maidens whisper'd, I " 'T were better by far] To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochin- var." | One touch to her hand, | and one word in her ear, | When they reach'd the hall-door, ! and the charger stood near ; I So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, | So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! I " She is won ! I we are gone, I over bank, bush and scaur ; b | They '11 have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar. | There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; | Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, | they rode and they ran : I There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, ) But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. j So daring in love, I and so dauntless in war, ) Have ye e'er heard of gal'lant, like young Lochinvar ! I k Gal'yard. b Skar, a craggy, stony hill ; a cliff, cleft, or divi- sion, or separation in a bank, hill, or any thing else. 29 338 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. CASABIANCA.* (MRS. HEMANS.) The boy stood on the burning decft, | Whence all hut him had fled ; | The flame thai lit the battle's wreck, I Shone round him o'er the dead. | Yet beautiful and bright he stood, | As born to rule the storm ; I A creature of heroic blood, | A proud, though child-li&e form. | The flames roll'd on — i he would no* go, | Without his father's word ; | Thai father, fain* in death below, { His voice no longer heard. | He call'd aloud — I " Say, father, say | If yet my task is done V I He knew not that the chieftain lay | Unconscious of 7iis son. | " Spea&, father !" | once again he cried, I " If I may ye* be gone !" | And hut the booming shots replied, I And fasi the flames roll'd on. I Upon his brow he feli their breath, I And in his waving hair ; I And look'd from thai lone post of death, | In still, yet brave despair. I * Young 1 Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of the Orient, remained at his post (in the battle of the Nile,) after the ship had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned ; and perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 3< And shouted bu* once more , aloud, j u My father ! mus* I stay V \ While o'er Aim fas*, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. | They wrap* the ship in splendor wild, | They caught the flag on high, | And stream'd above the gallant child, j LiAe banners in the sky. | There came a burs* of thunder sound — | The boy — I oh ! where was he ? | Ask of the winds thai far around | With fragments strew'd the sea ! | With mas*, and helm, and pennon fair, | Tha* well had borne their par* — I Bu* the nobles* thing tha* perish'd there, I Was tha* young faithful hear*. | MEETING OF SATAN, SIN, AND DEATH. (MILTON.) Meanwhile the adversary of God and man, | Satan, | with thoughts inflam'd of highes* design, | Puts on swift wings, ! and towards the gates of Hell Explores his solitary fligh* ; j sometimes He scours the righ* hand coast, | sometimes the left ; Now shaves with level wing the deep, | then soars Tip to the fiery concave I towering high. | As when far off a* sea a flee* descried | Hangs in the clouds, I by equinoctial winds | Close sailing from Bengala, I or the isles Of Terna*e and Tidore, | whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs ; I they, on the trading flood, \ Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, I Ply, | stemming nightly toward the pole : | so seem'd Far off the flying fiend. | 340 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. A* las* appear Hell bounds, I high, reaching to the horrid roof, | And thrice three fold the gates : I three folds were brass, | Three iron, I three of adamantine rock Impenetrable, I impaled with circling fire, | Ye* unconsum'd. I Before the gates I there sa*, On either side, | a formidable shape ; I The one seem'd woman to the wais*, and fair ; | Bu* ended foul in many a scaly fold | Voluminous and vas*, I a serpen*, arm'd With mortal sting ; I about Aer middle round I A cry of hell-hounds, never ceasing, bark'd | With wide Cerberean mouths I full loud, and rung A hideous peal ! I Far less abhorr'd than these | Vex'd Scylla, a I bathing in the sea i tha* parts Calabria b I from the hoarse Trinacrian c shore ; I Nor uglier follow the nigh* hag, I when, call'd In secre*, I riding through the air, she comes, I Lured with the smell of infan* blood, | to dance With Lapland witches, I while the labouring moon I Eclipses at their charms. | The other shape, | If shape it migh* be call'd I tha* shape had none | Distinguishable in member, join*, or limb; ) Or substance migh* be call'd 1 that shadow seem'd ; I For each seem'd either ; I blacA; it stood as nigh*, | Fierce as ten furies, I terrible as Hell, | And shooA; a dreadful dar* ; I wha* seem'd his head | The likeness of a kingly crown had on. | a Scylla, a fabled monster, of whom mention is made in the Odyssey. She is said to have twelve feet and six long necks, with a terrific head, and three rows of close-set teeth, on each. b Calabria, the part of Italy occupied by the ancient Oalabri. c TrinacrTa, one of the ancient names of Sicily. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 341 Satan was now at hand ; I and from Ms seat I The monster, moving, I onward came as fasi, | With horrid strides ; I Hell trembled as he strode. I The undaunted fiend I whai this mighi be admired, | Admired, I noi fear'd : I God and fas Son excepi I Created thing I naught valued he, I nor shunn'd ; | And with disdainful looA; I thus first began : | " Whence and whai ari thou, | execrable shape ! I Thai dar'si, | though grim and terrible, | advance Thy miscreated froni | athwart my way To yonder gates ? | through them I mean to pass, | Thai be assured, I without leave ask'd of thee, j Retire, I or taste thy folly ; j and learn by proof, | Hell-born ! | not to contend with spirits of Heaven !" I To whom the goblin, full of wrath, replied, | " Art thou thai traitor angel, I art thou he Who firsi broke peace in heaven, I and faith, | till then Unbroken, | and in proud rebellious arms | Drew after him the third pari of Heaven's sons, I Conjured againsi the Highesi, I for which both thou And they, I ouicasi from God, I are here condemn'd I To wasie eternal days in woe and pain ? I And reckonesi thou thyself with spirits of Heaven, I Hell-doom'd / I and breath'si defiance here and scorn, j Where I reign king, I and, to enrage thee more, | Thy king, and lord ? | Back to thy punishmeni, I False fugitive ! j and to thy speed add wings, I Lesi with a whip of scorpions I I pursue Thy lingering, I or with one strode of this dari i Strange horror seize thee. I and pangs unfeli before.'' | So spa/ce the grisly terror, | and in shape, | So speaking and so threat'ning, ! grew tenfold More dreadful and deform. I On the other side, I Incens'd with indignation, | Satan stood Unterrified, ! and like a comei burn'd, I 29* B® PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. That fires the length of Ophiucus a huge I In the arctic sky, ! and from his horrid hair I Shakes pestilence and war. | Each at the head | LevelPd his deadly aim ; | their fatal hands | No second strode intend ; | and such a frown Each cast at the other, I as when two black clouds I With heaven's artillery fraught, | come rattling on Over the Caspian, | then stand front to fron^ | Hovering a space, | till winds the signal blow \ To join their dark encounter in mid air : | So frown'd the mighty combatants, I tha* hell Grew darker at their frown; I so match'd they stood; For never but once more | was either like To meet so great a foe. | And now great deeds Had been achiev'd, | whereof b all Hell had rung, I Had no* the snaky sorceress | that sat Fast by Hell-gate, I and kept the fatal key, I Risen, | and with hideous outcry rush'd between. | WOMAN. (CAMPBELL.) In joyous youth, what soul hath never known I Thought, feeling, taste, harmonious to its own? I Who hath not paused while Beauty's pensive eye Ask'd from his heart the homage of a sigh ? | Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, | the magic of a name ? I There be, perhaps, who barren hearts avow, | Cold as the rocks on Torneo's hoary brow ; | There be, whose loveless wisdom never fail'd, I In self-adoring pride securely mail'd ,• — I * Ophiucus, a constellation. b Whar-6f\ PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 343 But, triumph not, ye peace-enamour 'd few ! | Fire, Nature, Genius, never dweli with you ! j For you no fancy consecrates the scene | Where rapture utter' d vows, and wepi between : | 'T is yours, unmoved?, to sever and to meei ; | No pledge is sacred, | and no home is sweei / | Who thai would ask a heart to dullness wed, I The waveless calm, | the slumber of the dead ? i No ; I the wild bliss of nature needs alloy, | And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy ! | And say without our hopes, without our fears, I Without the home thai plighted love endears, | Without the smile from partial beauty won, I O ! what were man 1 — | a world without a sun , , Till Hymen brought Ais love-delighted hour, | There dweli no joy in Eden's rosy bower ! I In vain the viewless seraph lingering there, I At starry midnight charm'd the sileni air ; | In vain the wild-bird carol'd on the steep, | To hail the sun, slow-wheeling from the deep ; I In vain, to soothe the solitary shade, I Aerial notes in mingling measure play'd ; | The summer wind thai shooA; the spangled tree, I The whispering wave, the murmur of the bee ; — ; Still slowly pass'd the melancholy day, | And still the stranger wisi not where to stray : | The world was sad / | the garden was a wild / I And man, the hermii, sigh'd — | till woman smil'd / 1 SINCERITY. (tillotson.) Truth and sincerity I have all the advantages of ap- pearance, and many more. | If the show of any thing be good, I I am sure the reality is better ; ! for why 344 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. does any man dissembled | or seem to be tha£ which he is not, — I but because he thinks it good \ to have the qualities he pretends to 1 I Now the best way for a man to seem to be any thing, I is to be in reality what Ae would seem to be : I besides, — | it is often as troublesome to support the pretence of a good quality, | as to have it : i and, if a man have it not, I it is mos* likely he will be discovered to want it ; I and, then, all his labour to seem to have it, is lost. | There is some- thing unnatural in painting, I which a skilful eye | will easily discern b from native beauty and complexion. \ Therefore, if any man think it convenient to seem good, ! let him be so indeed ; I and then his goodness will appear to every one's satisfaction. | Particularly, as to the affairs of this world, I integrity hath many advantages I over all the artificial modes of dissimula- tion and deceit I It is much the plainer and easier, — | much the safer, and more secure way of dealing in the world ; | it has less of trouble and difficulty, I of entan- glement and perplexity, | of danger and hazard in i*. | The arts of deceit and cunning I continually grow weaker, and less serviceable I to those that practise them ; I whereas integrity gains strength by use ; | and the more and longer any man practiseth it I the greater service it does him. ; I by confirming his reputation, I and encouraging those with whom he hath to do, | to repose the greatest confidence in him ; I which is an unspeakable advantage in business I and the affairs of life. | But insincerity is very troublesome to manage. I A hypocri/e hath so many things to attend to, I as make Ais life a very perplexed and intricate thing. I A liar hath need of a good memory, | lest he contradict at one time, I what he said at another; | but truth is always consistent, I and needs nothing to help it out ; I it is always near at hand, I and sits upon our lips ; | whereas Dls-sSm'bl. b Di £-2 crn'. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 345 a lie is troublesome, I and needs a great many more to make it good. I In a word, | whatsoever convenience may be though* to be in falsehood and dissimulation, | it is soon over ; | bu* the inconvenience of i* is perpetual ; I because i* brings a man j under an everlasting jealousy and sus- picion ; | so tha* he is no* believed when he speaks the truth ; | nor trusted when, perhaps, he means honestly. | When a man hath once forfeited the reputation of his integrity, — j nothing will then serve his turn ; I neither truth nor falsehood. | Indeed, if a man were only to deal in the world for a day, | and should never have occasion to converse more with mankind, I it were then no grea* matter | (as far as respects the affairs of this world) | if he spen* his reputation all at once ; | or ventured i* at one throw, j Bu* if he be to continue in the world, j and would have the advantage of reputation whilst he is in it, | le* him make use of truth and sincerity | in all his words and actions ; I for nothing bu* this will hold ou* to the end. | All other arts may fail ; | bu* truth and integrity ! will carry a man through, | and bear Aim ou* to the las*. ! THE UNION OF THE STATES. (WEBSTER.) From an Address delivered at Washington City, on the Centennial Anniversary of the Birth of Washington. There was in the breas* of Washington | one senti- ment deeply felt, I so constantly uppermost, ! tha* no proper occasion I escaped without its utterance. — j From the letter which he signed in behalf of the con- vention, ] when the constitution was sen* ou* to the people, | to the moment when he put //is hand to tha* las* paper, I in which he addressed his countrymen, | the union was the grea* objec* of his thoughts. | In tha* firs* letter, I he tells them tha* to him, | and 346 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Ttis brethren of the convention, | union is the greatest interest of every true American ; | and in thai las* paper I he conjures them to regard thai unity of go- vernment, | which constitutes them one people, j as the very palladium a of their prosperity and safety, | and the security of liberty itself. I He regarded the union of these states, | not so much one of our blessings, \ as the great treasure-house which contained them all. | Here, in his judgment, | was the great magazine of all our means of prosperity ; I here, as he thought, | and as every true American still thinks, I are deposited all our animating prospects, | all our solid hopes for future greatness. | He has taught us to maintain this govern- ment, | not by seeking to enlarge its powers on the one hand, | nor by surrendering them on the other ; | but by an administration of them, | at once firm and moder- ate, | adapted for objects truly national, I and carried on in a spirit of justice and equity. | The extreme solicitude for the preservation of the union, | at all times manifested by him, I shows not only the opinion he entertained of its usefulness, | but his clear perception of those causes | which were likely to spring up to endanger it, | and which, I if once they should overthrow the present system, ! would leave little hope of any future beneficial reunion. | Of all the presumptions indulged by presumptuous man, | thai is one of the rashesi, I which looks for re- peated and favourable opportunities, I for the deliberate establishment of a united government, | over distinci and widely extended communities. I Such a thing has happened once in human affairs, | and bui once : j the eveni stands oui, as a promineni exception to all ordi- nary history ; | and, unless we suppose ourselves run- ning into an age of miracles, | we may noi expeci its repetition. | a Pal-la'-d£-um, [Lat.] a statue of Pallas, pretended to be the guardian of Troy ; thence any security or protection. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 347 Washington, therefore, | could regard, I and did re- gard, j nothing as of paramount political interest, | but the integrity of the union itself. | With a united go- vernment, | well administered, | he saw we had nothing to fear ; | and without it, \ nothing to hope. | The sentiment is }ust, I and its momentous truth should solemnly impress the w T hole country. | If we migh£ regard our country | as personated in the spirit of Washington ; ! if we mighz consider him as representing Aer, I in her past renown, ! her present prosperity, | and Aer future career, I and as in that cha- racter demanding of us all, I to account for our con- duct, as political men, I or as private citizens, | how should he answer him, I who has ventured to talk of disunion* and dismemberment ? b I Or, how should he answer him, | who dwells perpetually on local inter- ests, | and fans every kindling flame of local prejudice ? | How should he answer him, I w r ho would array state against state, i interest against interest, | and party against party, 1 careless of the continuance of that unity of government j which constitutes us one people ? \ Gentlemen, I the political prosperity which this coun- try has attained, ; and which it now enjoys, | it has ac- quired mainly through the instrumentality of the pre- sent govern ment. | While this agenZ continues, | the capacity of attaining to still higher degrees of pros- perity I exists also. I We have, while this lasZs, | a political life, capable of beneficial exertion, | with power to resist or overcome misfortunes, ! to sustain us against the ordinary accidents of human affairs, | and to promote, by active efforts, I every public interest. | Bu£ dismemberment ! strikes at the very being which preserves these faculties ; | it would lay its rude and ruthless hand j on this grea* agenZ itself. I It would sweep away, not only whaZ we possess, I hut all power of regaining lost, | or acquiring new possessions. 1 It Dls-u'ne-fin. » DU-m£m'Mr.m£nt. c Pdi-ihah'iini. 348 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. would leave the country, I noi only bereft of its pros- perity and happiness, I bui without limbs, or organs, or faculties, I by which to exert itself, hereafter, I in the pursuit of thai prosperity and happiness. | Other misfortunes may be borne, | or their effects overcome. | If disastrous war sweep our commerce from the ocean, | another generation may renew it ; | if it ex^ausi our treasury, I future industry may replenish it ; | if \t desolate and lay waste our fields, | still, under a new cultivation, ! they will grow green again, I and ripen to future harvests. I It were hut a trifle, I even if the walls of yonder Capitol were to crumble, I if its lofty pillars should fall, | and its gorgeous decorations be all covered by the dusi of the valley. | All these mighi be rebuili. I Bui who shall recon- struct the fabric of demolished government? | Who shall rear again I the well proportioned columns* of constitutional liberty ? I Who shall frame together the skilful architecture I which unites national sovereignty j with state rights, | individual security, and public pros- perity ? | No, gentlemen, | if these columns fall, j they will be raised noi again. I Li&e the Colise'um b and the Par- thenon, | they will be destined to a mournful, ! a melan- choly immortality. I Bitterer tears, however, will flow over them, | than were ever shed over the monuments of Roman or Grecian art ; | for they will be the rem- nants of a more glorious edifice I than Greece or Rome ever saw — | the edifice of constitutional American liberty. | Bui, gentlemen, | lei us hope for better things. | Let us trusi in thai Gracious Being, I who has hitherto held our country I as in the hollow of //is hand. I Let us trusi to the virtue and the intelligence of the people, | "Kdl'lfrmf. ' Coliseum, an amphitheatre at Rome, in which the people assembled to witness the combats of gladiators and wild beasts. It is said to be capable of containing 60,000 spectators. c Par tiienon, a celebrated temple at Athens, sacred to Minerva. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 349 and to the efficacy of religious obligation. I Let us trusi to the influence of Washington's example. | Let us hope that thai fear of Heaven, | which expels all other fear, | and thai regard to duty, I which transcends all other regard, I may influence public men and pri- vate citizens, | and lead our country still onward in her happy career. | Full of these gratifying anticipations and hopes, | let us look forward to the end of thai century I which is now commenced. | A hundred years hence, I other dis- ciples of Washington I will celebrate his birth, | with no less of sincere admiration I than we now commemo- rate it. | When they shall meet, | as we now meet f | to do themselves and Aim thai honour, I so surely as they shall see the blue summits of Ms native mountains | rise in the horizon ; I so surely as they shall behold the river | on whose banks he lived, | and on whose banks he rests, | still flowing to the sea ; I so surely may they see, | as we now see, | the flag of the union floating on the top of the Capitol ; I and then, as now, | may the sun in his course | visii no land more free, I more happy, I more lovely, I than this our own country. | RECEPTION OF COLUMBUS ON HIS RETURN TO SPAIN. (WASHINGTON IRVING.) The fame of his discovery | had resounded through- out the nation, | and as his route I lay through several of the finesi I and mosi populous provinces of Spain, | his journey appeared like the progress of a sovereign, j Wherever he passed, I the surrounding country poured forth its inhabitants, | who lined the road and thronged the villages. | In the large towns, | the streets, win- dows, and balconies, | were filled with eager specta- tors, I who reni the air with acclamations. I His journey was continually impeded I by the multi- tude j pressing to gain a sighi of him, I and of the In- dians, | who were regarded with as much admiration J 30 350 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. as if they had been natives of another plane*. | It was impossible to satisfy the craving curiosity j which as- sailed Aimself and his attendants, | at every stage, | withinnumerablequestions: J popular rumour, as usual, | had exaggerated the truth, I and had filled the newly- found country with all kinds of wonders. | It was about the middle of April, | that Columbus arrived at Barcelona, | where every preparation had been made I to give Mm a solemn and magnificent re- ception. | The beauty and serenity of the weather, | in thai genial season and favoured climate, | contributed to give splendour to this memorable ceremony. | As he drew near the place, | many of the more youthful courtiers, I and hidal'gos'" 1 of gallant bearing, I together with a wast concourse of the populace, I came forth to meet and welcome him. | His entrance into this noble city I has been compared to one of those triumphs, | which the Romans were ac- customed to decree to conquerors. | Firs* were para- ded the Indians, I painted according to their savage fashion, | and decorated with tropical feathers, I and with their national ornaments of gold; j after these were borne various kinds of live parrots, | together with stuffed birds and animals of unknown species, | and rare plants, supposed to be of precious qualities : j while greaZ care was taken to maAe a conspicuous dis- play of Indian coronets, | bracelets, I and other decora- tions of gold, | which migh* give an idea of the wealth of the newly-discovered regions. | After these follow- ed Columbus, on horseback, I surrounded by a brill ian* cavalcade of Spanish chivalry. | The streets were almost impassable from the count- less multitude ; I the windows and balconies were crowded with the fair; I the very roofs were covered with spectators. | It seemed, as if the public eye could not be sated | with gazing on these trophies of an un- Hidal'go, (Spanish) a noble man or woman. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 351 known world, | or on the remarkable man by whom it had been discovered. I There was a sublimity in this event, | that mingled a solemn feeling with the public joy. | It was looked upon as a vast and signal dispen- sation of Providence, | in reward for the piety of the monarchs ; | and the majestic and venerable appearance of the discoverer, | so different from the youth and buoyancy a | thai are generally expected from roving enterprise, I seemed in harmony with the grandeur and dignity of Ais achievement I To receive him with suitable pomp and distinction, | the sovereigns had ordered their throne to be placed in public, | under a rich canopy of brocade b of gold, I in a vast and splendid saloon. I Here the king and queen awaited his arrival, | seated in staie with the prince Juan beside them, I and attended by the digni- taries of their court, | and the principal nobility of Castile, | Valentia, | Catalonia, I and Arragon, | all im- patient to behold the man, I who had conferred so in- calculable a benefit upon the nation. I At length Columbus entered the hall, I surrounded by a brilliant crowd of cavaliers, I among whom, says Las Casas, | he was conspicuous for his stately and commanding person, | which, with his countenance rendered venerable by his gray hairs, I gave him the august appearance of a senator of Rome. | A modest smile lighted up his features, | showing that he enjoyed the state and glory in which he came ; I and certainly nothing could be more deeply moving, | to a mind in- flamed by noble ambition, | and conscious of having greatly deserved, I than were these testimonials | of the admiration and gratitude of a nation, | or rather of a world. | As Columbus approached, I the sovereigns rose, I as if receiving a person of the highest ran/c. | Bending his knees, | he requested to kiss their hands ; | but there a B6e'an-s6. b Brd-k&d'. 352 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. was some hesitation on the part of their majesties I to permit this act of vassalage. | Raising him in the most gracious manner, | they ordered him to seat Aim- self in their presence ; | a rare honour in this proud and punctilious court. | At the request of their majesties, | Columbus now gave an account of the most striking events of his voy- age, | and a description of the islands which he had discovered. I He displayed the specimens he had brought | of unknown birds and other animals ; | of rare plants, of medicinal and aromatic virtue ; I of native gold, | in dust, I in crude masses, | or laboured into bar- baric ornaments ; I and, above all, | the natives of these countries, I who were objects of intense and inexhaust- ible interest ; I since there is nothing to man | so curi- ous as the varieties of his own species. I All these he pronounced mere harbingers of greater discoveries I he had yet to make, | which would add realms of incalcu- lable wealth to the dominions of their majesties, | and whole nations of proselytes to the true faith. | The words of Columbus | were listened to with pro- found emotion by the sovereigns. I When he had finished, I they sunk on their knees, I and raising their clasped hands to heaven, | their eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude, I they poured forth thanks and praises to God for so great a providence ; | all present followed their example ; I a deep and solemn enthusiasm pervaded that splendid assembly, | and prevented all common acclamations of triumph. I The anthem of Te Deum laudamus* I chanted by the choir of the royal chapel, J with the melodious ac- companiments of the instruments, | rose up from the midsl, I in a full body of sacred harmony, ! bearing up, as it were, I the feelings and thoughts of the auditors to heaven, I ' so tha*,' says the venerable Las Casas, ! ' it seemed as if in that hour they communicated with _ __ — % * We praise thee, God. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 353 celestial delights.' j Such was the solemn and pious manner I in which the brilliant court of Spain, I cele- brated this sublime event: ! offering up a grateful tri- bute of melody and praise ; | and giving glory to God for the discovery of another world. | When Columbus retired from the royal presence, i he was attended to his residence by all the court, I and followed by the shouting populace. | For many days he was the object of universal curiosity, | and wherever he appeared, | he was surrounded by an admiring mul- titude. I ADAMS AND JEFFERSON. (WIRT.) In the structure of their characters ; | in the course of their action ; I in the striking coincidences which marked their high career ; | in the lives and in the deaths of these illustrious men, I and in tha* voice of admiration and gratitude | which has since burs£, with one accord, j from the twelve millions of freemen who people these states, | there is a moral sublimity which overwhelms the mind, | and hushes all its powers into silent amazement 1 The European, who should have heard the sound | without apprehending the cause, I would be apZ to in- quire, — | ' Whai is the meaning of all this ? | what have these men done j to elicit this unanimous and splendid acclamation? I Why has the whole Ameri- can nation risen up, as one man, I to do them honour, | and offer to them this enthusiastic homage of the heart ? | Were they mighty warriors, I and was the peal tha£ we have heard, the shouZ of victory ? | Were they great commanders, I returning from their distant conquests, I surrounded with the spoils of war, I and was this the sound of their triumphal procession 1 | Were they covered with martial glory in any form, | and was this ' the noisy wave of the multitude, ' rolling 30* 354 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. bac& at their approach V | Nothing of all this : | No ; I they were peaceful and aged patriots, | who, having served their country together, | through their long and useful lives, I had now sunA; together to the tomb. I They had not fought battles ; 1 but they had formed and moved the grea* machinery, | of which battles were only a small, I and, comparatively, trivial conse- quence. | They had not commanded armies ; j but they had commanded the master springs of the nation, i on which all its greatf political, as well as military movements, depended. I By the wisdom and energy of their counsels, I and by the potent mastery of their spirits, | they had contributed preeminently to produce a mighty revolution, I which has changed the aspect of the world. | A revolution which, in one-half of that world, | has already restored man to his ' long lost liberty ;' I and government to its only legitimate object, | the happi- ness of the people : | and, on the other hemisphere, I has thrown a light so strong, I that even the darkness of despotism is beginning to recede. | Compared with the solid glory of an achievement like this, | wha£ are battles, I and what the pomp of war, | but the poor and fleeting pageants of a theatre ? | What were the selfish and petty strides of Alexander, | to conquer a little section of a savage world, | com- pared with this generous, this magnificent advance I towards the emancipation of the entire world / I And this, be it remembered, j has been the fruit of intellectual exertion! I the triumph of mind/ | Wha< a proud testimony I does it bear to the character of our nation, I that it is able to make a proper estimate ) of services like these! That while, in other countries, ' the senseless mob fall down in stupid admiration, ] be- fore the bloody wheels of the conqueror — I even of the conqueror by accident — | in this, our people rise, with one accord, I to pay their homage to intellect and virtue! I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 355 Wha2 a cheering pledge does it give I of the stability of our institutions, I that while abroad, I the yet be- nighted multitude I are prostrating themselves before the idols, | which their own hands have fashioned into kings, | here, in this land of the free, | our people are everywhere starting up, with one impulse, I to follow w T ith their acclamations | the ascending spirits of the great fathers of the republic / | This is a spectacle I of which we may be permitted to be proud. I It honours our country no less than the illustrious dead. I And could these grea£ patriots speak to us from the tomo, I they would tell us that they have more pleasure in the testimony, | which these honours bear to the character of their country, I than in that, which they bear to their individual ser- vices. | They now see as they were seen, while in the body, | and know the nature of the feeling from which these honours flow. | It is love for love. | It is the grati- tude of an enlightened nation | to the noblest order of benefactors. I It is the only glory worth the aspira- tion of a generous spirit. | Who would not prefer this living tomb in the hearts of his countrymen, I to the proudest mausoleum thai the genius of sculpture could erect / | Jefferson and Adams were great men by nature. ) No£ great and eccentric minds, | ' shot madly from their spheres,' I to affright the world and scatter pesti- lence in their course, I hut minds whose strong and steady lights, I restrained within their proper orbits | by the happy poise of their characters, I came to cheer and gladden a world | that had been buried for ages in political nighf. | They were heaven-called avengers of degraded man. | They came to lift Aim to the station for which God had formed him, \ and to put to flight those idiot supersti- tions, | with which tyrants had contrived to inthral his reason and his liberty. I And that Being-, who had 356 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. sent them upon this mission, | had fitted them, pre- eminently, for fas glorious work. I He filled their hearts with a love of eountry I which burned strong within them, even in death. I He gave them a power of understanding | which no sophistry could baffle, | no art elude ; I and a moral heroism which no dangers could appal. I Careless of themselves, | reckless of all persona] con- sequences, | trampling under fooi thai petty ambition of office and honour, I which constitutes the master- passion of little minds, I they bunt all their mighty powers | to the tas/c for which they had been dele- gated — | the freedom of their beloved country, | and the restoration of fallen man. I They feli that they were apostles of human liberty ; I and well did they fulfil their high commission. I They rested not till they had accomplished their work at home, I and given such an impulse to the great ocean of mind, | thai they saw the waves rolling on the farthest shore, I before they were called to their reward. I And then left the world, hand in hand, I exulting, as they rose, in the success of their labours. | AN ADDRESS TO A YOUNG STUDENT. (knox.) Your parents have watched over your helpless in- fancy, I and conducted you, with many a pang, I to an age at which your mind is capable of manly improve- ment | Their solicitude still continues, I and no trou- ble nor expense is spared, j in giving you all the in- structions and accomplishments I which may enable you to act your pari in life, I as a man of polished sense and confirmed virtue. I You have, then, | already contracted a great debi of gratitude to them. I You can pay it by no other method, I bui by using properly | the advantages which PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 357 their goodness has afforded you. | If your own en- deavours are deficient, | it is in vain that you have tutors, | books, I and all the external apparatus of lite- rary pursuits. | You must love learning, | if you would possess it. | In order to love if, | you must feel its delights ; j in order to feel its delights, | you must apply to it, | however irksome at first, I closely, constantly, and for a considerable time. I If you have resolution enough to do this, I you can not but love learning ; I for the mind always loves tha£ | to which it has been so long, | steadily, I and voluntarily attached. I Habits are formed, | which render what was at first disagreeable, | not only pleasant, but neces- sary. | Pleasant indeed, | are all the paths which lead to polite and elegant literature. I Yours then is surely a lot particularly happy. I Your education is of such a sort, | that its principal scope I is to prepare you to receive a refined pleasure during your life. | Elegance, or delicacy of taste, I is one of the firsZ objects of classical discipline ; | and it is this fine qual- ity | which opens a new world to the scholar's view. | Elegance of taste I has a connexion with many virtues, I and all of them virtues of the most amiable kind. I It tends to render you at once good and agreeable ; | you must therefore be an enemy to your own enjoyment, | if you enter on the discipline ) which leads to the at- tainment of a classical and liberal education, | with reluctance. I Value duly the opportunities you enjoy, | and which are denied to thousands of your fellow-crea- tures. | By laying in a store of useful knowledge, | adorning your mind with elegant literature, I improving and establishing your conduct by virtuous principles, | you cannoZ fail of being a comfort to those friends who have supported you, ! of being happy within yourself, | and of being well received by mankind. | Honour and success in life will probably attend you. | Under all circumstances I you will have an eternal source of 358 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. consolation and entertainment, I of which no sublunary vicissitude can deprive you. I Time will show how much wiser has been your choice | than tha* of your idle companions, I who would gladly have drawn you into their association, | or rather into their conspiracy, | as it has been called, I against good manners, I and against all that is honour- able and useful. I While you appear in society I as a respectable and valuable member of \t, I they will, per- haps, I have sacrificed at the shrine of vanity, | pride, I and extravagance, I and false pleasure, I their health and their sense, | their fortune and their characters. \ ACCOUNT CURRENT. (anonymous.) Woman, D*. Oh, the woe that woman brings ! I Source of sorrow, grief and pain ! j All our evils have their springs, I In the firs* of female train. | Eve by eating led poor Adam \ Out of Eden, and astray ; I Look for sorrow still where Madam, | Per£ and proud, directs the way. I Courtship is a slavish pleasure, I Soothing a coquettish train : I Wedded — what the mighty treasure?! Doom'd to drag a golden chain. I Noisy clac/c and constant brawling, i Discord and domestic strife ; | Empty cupboard, I children bawling, j Scolding woman made a wife. | PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 359 Gaudy dress and haughty carriage, | Love's fond balance fled and gone ; | These, the bitter fruits of marriage ! J He that 's wise will live alone ! | Contra, Cr. Oh ! wha£ joys from woman spring, | Source of bliss and purest peace, | Eden could not comfort bring, I Till fair woman show'd her face. I When she came, | good honest Adam I Clasp'd the gift with open arms, | He left Eden for h\s madam, | So our parent prized her charms. | Courtship thrills the soul with pleasure ; I Virtue's blush on beauty's chee& : | Happy prelude to a treasure | Kings have left their crowns to seek / 1 Lovely looks and constant courting, I Sweet'ning all the toils of life ; | Cheerful children, harmless sporting, I Lovely woman made a wife ! ) Modest dress and gentle carriage, | Love triumphant on his throne ; | These the blissful fruits of marriage — ) None but fools would live alone. I SCHEMES OF LIFE OFTEN ILLUSORY. (DR. JOHNSON.) Omar, the son of Hassan, | had passed seventy-five years in honour and prosperity. I The favour of three successive calhV | had filled his house with gold and a Ka']lf, a title assumed by the successors of Mahomet among the Saracens 360 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION silver ; | and whenever he appeared, | the benedictions of the people proclaimed his passage. I Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. | The brightness of the flame is wasting its fuel; | the fragrant flower is passing away in its own odours. | The vigour of Omar began to fail ; | the curls of beauty fell from Ais head ; | strength departed from his hands ; | and agility from his feet. | He gave back to the calif the keys of trus£, I and the seals of secresy : | and sought no other pleasure for the remains of life, I than the converse of the wise, | and the gratitude of the good. | The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. | His chamber was filled by visitants, | eager to catch the dictates of experience, I and officious to pay the tribute of admiration. I Caled, the son of the viceroy of EgypZ, | entered every day early, and retired late. | He was beautiful and eloquent ; | Omar admired his wit, | and loved /as docility. | " Tell me," said Caled, | '• thou to whose voice nations have listened, I and whose wisdom is known to the extremities of Asia, | tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent | The arts by which thou hast gained power and preserved it, I are to thee no longer necessary or useful ; j impart to me the secret of thy conduct, | and teach me the plan | upon which thy wisdom has buik thy fortune. " | " Young man," said Omar, I " it is of little use to form plans of life. | When I tooA: my first survey of the world, | in my twentieth year, | having consider- ed the various conditions of mankind, i in the hour of solitude I said thus to myself, I leaning agains/ a cedar which spread its branches over my head, I " Seventy years are allowed to man ; 1 1 have yet fifty remain ing. | " Ten years I will a\\ot to the attainment of knowledge, | and ten I will pass in foreign countries ; I I shall be learned, I and therefore shall be honoured; | every city will shout at my arrival, | and every stu- PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 361 den* will solicit my friendship. | Twenty years thus passed, ] will store my mind with images, I which I shall be busy, through the res* of my life, I in combin- ing and comparing. | I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellectual riches ; I I shall find new pleasures for every momen* ; j and shall never more be weary of myself, j " I will not, however, j deviate too far from the beaten trac& of life : I hut will try wha* can be found in female delicacy, j I will marry a wife beautiful as the Houries, a I and wise as Zobeide : b | with her I will live twenty years within the suburbs of Bagdad, | in every pleasure tha* wealth can purchase, amd fancy can invent I " I will then retire to a rural dwelling, I pass my days in obscurity and contemplation, | and lie silently down on the bed of death. I Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, I that I will never depend upon the smile of princes ; | tha* I will never stand ex- posed to the artifices of courts ; I will never pan* for public honours, | nor disturb my quie* with the affairs of state." | Such was my scheme of life, | which I impressed indelibly upon my memory. I " The firs* pari of my ensuing time | was to be spen* in search of knowledge, I and I know no* how I was diverted from my design. | I had no visible im- pediments without, | nor any ungovernable passions within. I I regarded knowledge as the highes* hon- our, | and the mos* engaging pleasure ; ! ye* day stole upon day, | and month glided after month, i till I found tha* seven years of the firs* ten had vanished, | and lef* nothing behind them. | " I now pos*poned my purpose of travelling ; | for why should I go abroad, | while so much remained to be learned at home ? | I immured myself for four 1 Ho'r&i, the girls of Mahomet's Paradise. b Z6-bl'de, wife of the Calif, a fictitious character. (See Arabian Nights Entertain- ments.) 31 362 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. years, J and studied the laws of the empire. | The fame of my skill reached the judges ; I I was found able to speaA; upon doubtful questions; | and was com- manded to stand at the footstool of the calif. | I was heard with attention ; I I was consulted with confi- dence ; | and the love of praise fastened on my heart. | " I still wished to see distant countries ; 1 listened with rapture to the relations of travellers ; [ and re- solved some time to asA; my dismission, | tha* I migh* feast my soul with novelty : I bu* my presence was always necessary ; I and the stream of business hurrieo me along. I Sometimes I was afraid les* I should bt charged with ingratitude : | bu* I still proposed U travel, I and therefore would no* confine myself b} marriage. | " In my fiftieth year, I I began to suspect thai the time of travelling was pas* ; I and though* it bes* to lay hold on the felicity ye* in my power, I and indulge myself in domestic pleasures. I Bu* at fifty | no man easily finds a woman I beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide. | I inquired and rejected, | consult- ed and deliberated, I till the sixty-second year made me ashamed of wishing to marry. | I had now no- thing left bu* retirement ; | and for retirement I never found a time, | till disease forced me from public em- ployment. I " Such was my scheme, I and such has been its con- sequence. | With an insatiable thirs* for knowledge, | I trifled away the years of improvement ; I w T ith a rest- less desire of seeing different countries. | I have always resided in the same city ; I with the highes* expectation of connubial felicity, | I have lived unmarried; | and with unalterable resolutions of contemplative retire- men*, ) I am going to die within the walls of Bag- da*." I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 363 EXTRACT FROM A SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS IN SUPPORT OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. (DANIEL WEBSTER.) SinZc or swim, | live or die, I survive or perish, 1 1 give my hand, and my heart, to this vote. | It is true, in- deed, | that in the beginning, I we aimed not at Inde- pendence. | Bat there's a Divinity which shapes our ends. | The injustice of England has driven us to arms ; I and blinded to Aer own interest for our good, | she has obstinately persisted, I till Independence is now within our grasp. | We have hut to reach forth to it,\ and it is ours, j Why then should we defer the Decla- ration ? | Is any man so weak | as now to hope for a reconciliation with England ? I Do we mean to sub- mit to the measures of parliament, ) Boston port-bill and all ? | I know we do not mean to submit J We never shall submit. | The war, then, mus* go on. | We must fight i* through. | And if the war musZ go on, | why put off longer the Declaration of Independence ? I That mea- sure will strengthen us. I It will give us character abroad. | The nations will then treat with us, | which they never can do | while we acknowledge ourselves subjects, in arms against our sovereign. I Nay, I main- tain that England Aerself, I will sooner treat for peace with us|on the footing of Independence, I than consent, by repealing her acts, I to acknowledge that Aer whole conduct towards us I has been a course of injustice and oppression. I Sir, J the Declaration will inspire the people with in- creased courage. I Instead of a long and bloody war for restoration of privileges, I for redress of grievances, I for chartered immunities, I held under a British king, I set before them the glorious object of entire Indepen- dence, | and it will breathe into them anew the breath of life. | Read this Declaration at the head of the 364 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. army : j every swore? will be drawn from its scabbard, | and the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, \ or to perish on the bed of honour. I Publish it from the pul- pit ; | religion will approve it, \ and the love of religious liberty will cling round it, I resolved to stand withiZ,| or fall with it. | Send it to the public halls ; | proclaim it there ; I let them hear k,Iwho heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon; I let them see if, j who saw their brothers and their sons | fall on the field of Bunker Hill, I and in the streets of Lexington and Concord, I and the very walls will cry out in its support. | Sir, before God, 1 1 believe the hour is come. I My judgment approves this measure, I and my whole heart is in it. | All thaZ I have, I and all thai I am, I and all that I hope, in this life, 1 1 am now ready here to stake upon it ; I and I leave off as I began, I thai live or die, | survive or perish, j I am for the Declaration. I It is my living sentiment, I and by the blessing of God | it shall be my dying sentiment ; I Independence now ; | and Independence for ever. I KNOWLEDGE. (DE WITT CLINTON.) Pleasure is a shadow : | wealth is vanity : | and power is a pageanZ ; | but knowledge is ecstatic in enjoy- ment — | perennial in fame, I unlimited in space, I and infinite in duration. I In the performance of its sacred offices, | it fears no danger — I spares no expense — I omits no exertion. I It scales the mountain — I looks into the volcano — I dives into the ocean — I perforates the earth — | wings its flight into the skies — I encir- cles the glo&e — | explores sea and land — I contem- plates the distant — I examines the minute — I compre- hends the great — I ascends to the sublime. — I No place too remote for its grasp — | no heavens too ex- alted for its touch. | THE END. APPENDIX. Operations for the Cure of Stammering. Since the commencement of the present year, (1841,) a variety of operations have been performed on the tongue, for the radical cure of Stammering-. This method of treating 1 the disease is due to the genius of Professor Dieffenbach,* of Berlin, author of the operation for the cure of Strabismus. From the American Journal of the Medical Sciences, July, 1841. The greatest novelties in Surgery, which the Foreign Journals for the last three months present us, are the operations for the cure of Stammering. Operation of Dieffenbach. — "The idea lately suggested itself to me," says the celebrated Berlin Professor, " that an incision car- ried completely through the root of the tongue, might possibly be useful," in relieving Stuttering which had resisted other means of cure, "by producing an alteration in the condition of the nervous influences, allaying spasm of the chordee vocales, &c." ; and, on this slender possibility, based on a most vague notion (it is not worthy of being termed a theory), he proceeded at once boldly to divide completely the root of the tongue. Three modes of operating are described by Dieffenbach : " 1st. The transverse horizontal division of the root of the tongue. 2d. The subcutaneous transverse division. 3d. The horizontal division, with excision of a wedge-shaped portion." The inventor of this operation thus characterizes it: "It can never be performed by one who has not the temperament of an operator; the haemorrhage must hold all others at a respectable distance. The extent and importance of the operation, the possi- ble danger to life, or loss of the tongue either through want of skill in the assistants, who may tear it off when so nearly separated, or through mortification or ulceration of its connecting isthmus. These are contingencies rationally to be feared, and which must be carefully weighed beforehand." We commend this to the con- sideration not only of the Surgeon, but most earnestly also to the unfortunate subjects of the operation. It is said to have been fatal in one of Dieffenbach's cases, that of * Pronounced De'-fen-bah'. 31 * (^ B APPENDIX. a young man who was dismissed seemingly cured. Owing to the irritation caused by the cicatrix, this patient commenced picking his tongue; haemorrhage came on, which proved so alarming that Dieffenbach was sent for, but so much blood had been lost that the man sank. Notwithstanding the imminently dangerous nature of this opera- tion, several of the most distinguished Surgeons of Paris have hastened to execute it, and seem now to be contending who shall perform it most frequently, and boast most loudly of their success. From Dr. Post's Observations on the New Operation for the Cure of Stammering. {New- York.) The operation has been repeated a considerable number of times in Paris, by Amussat, Baudens, Velpeau, &c., &c, by whom it has been essentially modified, and rendered easier to the Surgeon, and less formidable to the patient. Amussat pursues the following mode of operating: 1st. He separates with a bistoury the fraenum linguae from its attachment to the lower jaw, and divides the fibro-cellular mem- brane beneath it. In a few cases, he has found this part of the operation to be of itself sufficient to restore freedom of speech. 2d. He divides the genio-hyo-glossi muscles at their origin from the lower jaw. The wound generally heals in about eight days. Amussat has had some cases followed by troublesome hemor- rhage, which he has generally arrested by the free use of ice ; some- times by introducing compresses of lint, and making pressure on them with two fingers of each hand introduced into the mouth, wnile the thumbs are applied below the chin. In one case only it was found necessary to make pressure by means of a hard body applied over the lint. If these means should fail, he recommends the use of styptics or of the actual cautery. Baudens operates in the following manner. An assistant stands behind the Stammerer, and holds his head slightly thrown back, with his mouth widely opened, and the two little fingers of the assistant in the angles of the mouth, drawing back the lips. The Surgeon with his left hand holds a sharp hook, which he inserts into the fraenum linguae, near the insertion of the genio-hyo-glossi, which he thus puts on the stretch. He then plunges the points of a sharp pair of scissors on each side of the origin of the muscles, to the depth of about an inch, and by closing the scissors divides the muscles. If any fibres remain undivided, he cuts them with a probe-pointed bistoury. Velpeau divides the genio-hyo-glossi, sometimes with a narrow bistoury, through a puncture of the mucous membrane, and some- times with scissors, dividing the mucous membrane more exten- sively. APPENDIX. in From the American Journal of the Medical Sciences, October, 1841. Operations for Stammering. — A reviewer in the British and Foreign Medical Review, July, 1841, thus speaks of them. "The sanguinary operations which have been recently devised and exe- cuted, with the view of curing Stammering, are one of the great- est outrages upon modern Surgery. Although some of them had their origin in legitimate motives, most, we fear, serve but to show what ruthless expedients will be occasionally resorted to for the purpose of acquiring professional fame, however short-lived, and to what extent the ignorant and credulous will become a prey to craft and subtlety. If our indignation was awakened at the barbarous cruelties practised upon dumb animals for the sake of elucidating the truths of Physiology, how much more ought it to be when we consider the multitude of our fellow-beings who have suffered themselves to be maimed and mutilated at the instigation of indi- viduals more remarkable for their reckless use of the knife than for the soundness of their Medical Science !" From a very intelligent young German Physician, recently on a visit to this country, we learn that Dieffenbach has abandoned his operation, on the ground that the danger to the life of the patient exceeds the chance of a cure. And we also learn that many of the cases announced as cures, were merely temporarily relieved. Nothing can be more unphilosophical and absurd than these operations for the radical cure of Stammering. Will removing " wedge-shaped" portions of the tongue, passing needles through its substance, or dividing the genio-hyo-glossi muscles, inspire a Stammerer with confidence, or give him a knowledge of Elocu- tion'? If Stammering depended on the permanent contraction of a muscle, as in Strabismus, it would be rational to conclude that it might be relieved by a surgical operation ; but as the exciting cause, in the majority of cases, exists in the mind, and not in the tongue, an operation on the latter can be of no permanent advan- tage. QUESTIONS TO BE ANSWERED BY THE PUPIL. [Note. — These Questions were omitted in the proper place — they should have followed those on page 166.] Page 134. What letters are employed for noting the disposition of the fingers'? What letters are used for noting the manner of presenting the palm ] What letters are used for noting the eleva- tion of the arms'? What letters are used for noting the posture of the arms in the transverse direction ] What letters are used for noting the force of motion of the hands and arms'? What let- ters are used for noting the direction of motion 1 Page 135. W 7 hat letters are used for noting the manner of motion'? What letters are used for noting the posture of the head and direction of the eyes'? What letters and numerals are used for noting the positions of the feet"? What letters are used for noting the degree of extension of the feet? What letters are used for noting the steps 1 Page 136. What letters are used to note parts on which the hand may be placed 1 What letters are used to note the manner of com- bining the fingers of both hands 1 What letters are used for noting the combinations of both arms 1 What does a capital B, preceding and joined to a set of small letters, signify 1 Name some of the letters used in noting significant gestures. Page 137. Into how many classes are the notation letters divi- ded 1 W T hat is meant by a set of letters 1 To what does each letter in a set, respectively relate 1 ? Illustrate this by an example. Do the letters and sets of letters relate to both arms indifferently'! How are they distinguished ] When there is a single set of let- ters, how is it known whether it belongs to the right hand and arm, or to the left 1 Page 138. How is a set of letters, designed for both arms, dis- tinguished 1 How is a change of gesture noted 1 How is alter- nate gesture expressed 1 By what kind of letters are the postures of the head and the direction of the eyes indicated, and where are they placed 1 Where are the letters placed, which mark the posi- tions of the feet 1 ? Page 156. In notating an oration, is it necessary to mark every gesture ] Page 157. What is necessary to be attended to in the recitation of descriptions of any kind 1 Why should not the same gesture be often repeated 1 What general rule should be observed in ora- torical action 1 What is the best method for acquiring a finished rhetorical delivery 1 (0 GESTURE. CHAPTER XIII.* COMPLEX SIGNIFICANT GESTURES. Complex Significant Gestures are employed chiefly in dramatic representation. They are combinations of simple significant gestures, variously associated accord- ing to the mingled passions which they represent. The boldest and most magnificent of them are termed atti- tudes. The following are examples of complex signifi- cant gestures : Reproach puts on a stern aspect : the brow is con- tracted, the lip is turned up with scorn, and the whole body is expressive of aversion. Fig. 166 represents Queen Ka- tharine, in the trial scene, in the play of Henry VIII. reproach- ing Wolsey for the in- juries which had been neaped upon her. Apprehension is the prospect of future evil accompanied with un- easiness of mind. Fig. 167 is a good example. It represents Hamlet in the act of exclaiming, "Ay, there's the rub.' Hamlet's Soliloquy, p. 249.] Terror excites the person who suffers under it, to avoid the dreaded object, or to escape from it. If it be some dangerous reptile on the ground, and very near, the expression is represented by starting back and look- * This Chapter should have followed p. 130. 6 ELOCUTION ing downwards. If the danger threaten from a dis- tance, the terror arising is expressed by looking for- wards, and not starting back, but merely in the retired position. But if the dread of impending death from the hand of an enemy awaken this passion, the coward flies. Of this there is a fine example in the battles of Alexander, by LeBrun. Fig. 168represents terror as de- scribed by En- gel. It is that of a man a- larmed by lightning and thunder. He shuts hiseyes, covers them with one hand and extends the other behind him, as if to ward off the dreaded stroke. Aversion, as already observed, is expressed by two gestures. (See p. 122.) Horror, which is aversion or astonishment mingled with terror, is seldom capable of retreating, but remains in one attitude, with the eyes riveted on the object, the arms, with the hands vertical, held forward to guard the person, and the whole frame trembling. (Fig. 169.) Listening in order to obtain the surest and most va- rious information, first casts the eye quickly in the ap- parent direction of the sounds ; if nothing is seen, the ear is turned towards the point of expectation, the eye is bent on vacancy, and the arm is extended, with the hand vertical ; but all this passes in a moment. If the sounds proceed from different points at the same time, both hands are held up, and the face and eyes alternately change from one side to the other with a rapidity go- verned by the nature of the sound ; if it be alarming, with ELOCUTION. trepidation ; if pleasing, with gentle motion The figure is listening fear. Admiration, if of surrounding natural objects, of a pleasing kind, holds both hands vertical, and across, and then moves them outwards to the position extended as in the figure. (Fig. 100.) In admiration arising from some extraordinary or unexpected circumstances, the hands are thrown up supine elevated, together with the face and the eyes. Veneration crosses both hands on the breast, casts down the eyes slow- ly, and bows the head. (Fig. 101.) Deprecation ad- vances in the ex- tended position of the feet, approach- ing to kneeling, clasps the hands forcibly together, throws back the head, sinking it be- 101 102 tween the shoul- ders, and looks earnestly up to the person implored. (Fig. 102.) 8 GESTURE In appealing to heaven, the right hand is laid on the breast, then the left is projected su- pine upwards; the eyes are first di- rected forwards, and then upwards. (Fig. 103.) In the appeal to conscience, the right hand is laid on the breast, the left drops unmoved, the eyes are fixed upon the person addressed (Fig. 80, p. 99) ; sometimes both hands press the breast. Shame in the extreme sinks on the knee, and covers the eyes with both hands. (Fig. 104.) This is a femi- nine expression of it. Mild resignation falls on the knee, crosses the arms on the breast, and looks forwards and upwards towards heaven. (Fig. 105.) 104 105 Resignation mixed with desperation, stands erect and unmoved, the head thrown back, the eyes turned up- ward, and fixed, the arms crossed. A fine instance is seen in Fig. 106, from an attitude of Mrs. Siddons. Grief arising from sudden and afflicting intelligence, covers the eyes with one hand, advances forwards, and throws back the other hand. (Fig. 107, and Fig. 81, p. 99.) ELOCUTION. » Attention demanding silence, holds the finger on the lips, and leans forwards, sometimes repressing with the left hand. (Fig. 82, p. 99.) Distress, when extreme, lays the palm of the hand upon the forehead, throws back the head and body, and retires with a long and sudden step. (Fig. 83. p. 99.) Deliberation on ordinary subjects, holds the chin, and sets the arm a-kimbo. (Fig. 84, p. 99.) Self-sufficiency folds the arms, and sets himself on his centre. (Fig. 48, p. 92.) This was a favourite posture of Bonaparte. Pride throws back the body, and holds the head high. These few complex significant gestures are some of the most obvious, and principally such as occurred in the illustration of other parts of this system; they serve, however, in some degree, to explain the nature of these gestures. But among the writers who have treated particularly of significant gestures, none have written with greater ingenuity than Engel : we will borrow, therefore, an example or two from him. Surprise causes the body and lower limbs to retire, and affection stimulates the person to advance. (Fig. 108.) The figure represents Frederick de Reuss, in a German play, who unexpectedly sees his dear friend. 32 10 GESTURE, He withdraws, in surprise, his body and lower limbs, and, in the ardour of friendship, immediately stretches forwards his head and his arms. When the thoughts flow without difficulty or opposition, the move- ment of the limbs is free and direct. But when difficulties occur, or ob- stacles are discovered, a man either arrests his action entirely, or changes it to something altogether different. The direction of his eyes, and the, action of his head, are also, under similar circumstances, quite altered. The eyes, instead of moving freely from object to object, become fixed, and the head is thrown back, if be- fore hanging down on the breast. As an example of these effects, M. Engel refers to a scene in a play of Lessing, in which an old gentleman is very much puzzled how to ma- nage, in a situa- tion of great diffi- culty and delicacy. In the commence- ment of his delibe- rations he is repre- sented as in Fig. 109, and in the next pe- riod of them, as in Fig. 110. These examples are introduced by M. Engel to illus- trate his analogous gestures, but they may also be very well applied to illustrate the complex, significant gestures, which are the present subject of investigation. The description which he gives of melancholy, con- trasted with anxiety, is, throughout, correct, and full of nice discrimination ELOCUTION. 11 Melancholy is a feeble and passive affection ; it is attended by a total relaxation of the muscles, with a mute and tranquil resignation, un- accompanied by opposition either to the cause or the sensibility of the evil. The character, externally, is languor, without motion, the head hanging at the " side next the heart," the eyes turned upon its object, or, if that is absent, fixed upon the ground, the hands hang- ing down by their own weight, without effort, and joined loosely together. (Fig. 111.) Anxiety is of a different charac- ter; it is restless and active, and manifest by the extension of the muscles ; the eye is filled with fire, the breathing is quick, the motion is hurried, the head is thrown back, the whole body is extended. The sufferer is like a sick man, who tosses incessantly, and finds himself uneasy in every situation. (Fig. 112.) One of the causes of M. Engel's ges- tures of analogy is, as he observes, the " disposition of the mind to refer intellec- tual ideas to external objects. When king Lear recollects the barbarous treat- ment of his daughters, who, in the midst of a stormy night, had exposed his hoary head to the inclemency of the weather; and when he immmediately exclaims O that way madness lies ; let me shun that ; No more of that, there is not, in reality, any external object from which this unhappy prince should avert his eyes with horror, and yet he turns his head away to the side opposite that to which it was directed before, endeavouring, as 12 GESTURE. it were, with his hand reversed, to banish that cruel and afflicting recollection." (Fig. 113.) The significant gestures, how- ever numerous and correct, which a great actor makes in the repre- sentation of an entire dramatic^ character, bear no proportion to^ the number of those gestures which do not belong to this class, and which are no less necessary, though they are not so splendid and imposing. The painter is struck by the boldest and finest of the significant gestures, which are called attitudes ; and he records them : they are the proper objects of his art ; they are striking, and less evanescent than the other gestures which pass unnoticed by him, although they make up by far the greater and more important part of the gestures requisite for illustrating the senti- ments. These less prominent gestures give to the de- clamation its precision and force. A slight movement of the head, a look of the eye, a turn of the hand, a ju- dicious pause, or interruption of gesture, or a change of position in the feet, often illuminates the meaning of a passage, and sends it, full of life and warmth, into the understanding. And the perfection of gesture, in a tragedian, will be found to consist more in the skilful management of the less showy action, than in the exhi- bition of the finest attitudes. Attitudes are danger- ous to hazard : the whole powers of the man must be wrought up to their highest energy, or they become forced and frigid. Excellent players have been seen, who have never ventured an attitude ; but none, deserv- ing the name of excellence, have ever appeared, whose declamation has been deficient in precision or propriety. Where all the solid foundation of just and appropriate action has been laid, attitude, when regulated with 12* GESTURE. 13 taste and discretion, may be added to ornament the su- perstructure ; but, when it is introduced unseasonably, or is overcharged, it is an evidence of deficiency of un- derstanding, as well as of depravity of taste. ATTITUDES OF MRS. SIDDONS. 185 U iz sp — xdx thf Fig. 185. This arm shall vindicate a father's cause. G. Dau'r., A.l r S. last. aR2 S iZ sp—pdx Fig. 186. Wert thou the son of Jupiter. Imogen, Act 2, S. 3. aR2 187 188 U B cl. eh Fig. 187. A widow cries, Be husband to me, heaven. K. John, A. 3, S. 2. si D Bel ef U Uq bn—hdx Fig. 188. Pity and forgiveness. Venice Preserved, Act 5, S. 1. 32* ■*»* 14 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. tell's address to the mountains. vef—phx Ye crags and peaks, shf—sdx I'm with you once again ; B scq I hold to you the hands you first beheld, | 188 Bvcc to show they still PRACTICAL ELOCUTION, 15 Me thinks I hear a b are free. R\ spirit in your echoes, answer me, | and bid your tenant B shq welcome to his home R2 R again ! | O sacred forms, I how proud you look ! | 192 sef—sdx sky How high you lift your heads into the sky ! | R2 16 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION How huge you are ! | 194 B veq How mighty ! Rl 195 196 B shf m Z-pdz and how free ! I Ye are the things that tower; R2 fli PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 17 197 shf—sdx that shine ; R2 whose smile makes glad ; I Rl B veq whose frown is terrible ; rLl 200 B vec whose forms, robed, 18 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. B veq or unrobed, do all the impress wear 202 vcf—phz of awe divine. | fi-phz shf—sltx Ye guards of liberty, I I'm with you once again ! I PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. 19 Z—phx I call to you with all my 207 Bseq I hold my hands to you, Z2 Bvec to show they still are j 20 PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Bsef I rush to you, I aR<2 as though I could B shf r embrace you. I VOCAL GYMNASIUM. RULES, CONDITIONS, RECOM- MENDATIONS, &c. RULES, ADOPTED IN 1840. From experience in teaching without fixed rules for the regula- tion of the conduct of the different classes, the Proprietor of the Institution is convinced of their importance. He has, therefore, drawn up the following, to which he requires each member to sitb- scribe on entering the school. 1. Each member of the Institution must be punctual in atten- dance at all the exercises : he must not leave till their close. 2. Each member must attend every exhibition at the Vocal Gym- nasium, and at every other place. 3. Each member, while exercising, must stand or sit erect. Neither postures, motions, nor acts, unfavourable to vocal delivery, are allow- ed: such as rocking, throwing one's self back in the chair, or resting the arms upon the back of it, or even the feet upon the rounds. 4. When, in concert exercises, a section is given out, it must be immediately repeated by every member of the class, in the proper pitch and time, and with the requisite degree of force. 5. When a piece is given out with gesticulation, the members of the class must rise simultaneously, immediately after the first section is pronounced, and repeat the words and gesture. 6. Each student must perform all the exercises with unwearied in- dustry: in a manner which shall indicate that he is resolved on a cure. 7. As walking about the room, changing seats, &c, greatly in- terrupt the process of instruction, the members of the class are re- quired to keep in their places during the exercises. This rule, of course, does not apply to those exercises which require the class to keep time by marching. 8. No one is allowed to have any thing in his hands, except his book, during the exercises. 9. All colloquial intercourse, in the time of exercising, is strictly forbidden. 10. No whistling, loud talking, or other unnecessary noise, in entering, or in leaving the room, is allowed. 11. As any remarks calculated to discourage the Stammerer from persevering in the exercises, greatly retard, if not entirely prevent a cure, every member of the Institution is required to re- frain from making them. Presuming that the deportment of each Student, will, on every occasion, be that of a gentleman ; the Proprietor of the Institu- tion confidently trusts that the above rules will not be violated. 33 » DR. COMSTOCK'S VOCAL GYMNASIUM AND LYCEUM FOR ELOCUTION, DESIGNED FOR THE PROMOTION OF HEALTH, THE CURE OF STAM- MERING, AND IMPROVEMENT IN READING AND SPEAKING. This Institution is open from the first of October till the last of March ; April, May, June, July, August, and September being vacation months. Students in Elocution are admitted at any time during the term ; Stam- merers, at any time between the first of October and the first of Feb- ruary. In this Institution, Elocution is treated as a science, as well as an art. The various movements of the voice, both in speech and song, are illus- trated by original diagrams and by oral instruction. The exercises give the pupil complete command of the muscles of articulation, extend the compass of the voice, and render it smooth, powerful, and melodious. They not only call forth all the energies of the vocal organs, correct stammering, lisping, and other impediments of speech; but they invigo- rate the lungs, and, consequently, fortify them against the invasion of disease. The vocal exercises are accompanied by gesticulation. Hence to a certain extent, general gymnastics are associated with those of the voice; and awkwardness of manner and posture, is removed by the sub- stitution of rhetorical grace. In other words, all the voluntary muscles of the trunk and limbs are so trained as to move in the order required by the will, synchronously and harmoniously with those of the voice. TICKETS PER COURSE. Cure of Stammering 10 weeks instruction S50 Private instruction in Elocution. . . 36 lessons 30 Instruction in the morning class. . 10 weeks, each pupil 20 Instruction in the afternoon class. . 10 weeks, each pupil 20 Instruction in the evening class. . . 10 weeks, each pupil 10 Instruction in seminaries 25 weeks, 2 hours per week. .50 O The ticket, in each case, to be paid for in advance. Satisfactory references will be given in the principal cities throughout the Union. ANDREW COM STOCK, M. D. No. 100 Mulberry Street, Philadelphia. (6) RECOMMENDATIONS. To the Editor of the Troy Daily Whig : Sir — You are aware that a gentleman from Philadelphia, Dr. Comstock, is now giving- lessons in Elocution ; but perhaps you are not aware of the merits of his system or the extent of its usefulness ; it is in many respects entirely original, in others founded on the investigations of the most dis- tinguished vocalists. I have attended a few lessons, and am highly grati- fied that I have embraced the opportunity. Some of the gentlemen who have professed to teach Elocution in our city have given some satisfaction, but none have been able to handle the subject as he takes it up ; his treat- ment of it is simple, natural, philosophical ; he is prepared to meet any case of impediment in speaking, reading, or singing. If a pupil can speak or read at all, Dr. Comstock will teach him to do it well. Musicians also would do well to look into his system : they will find in it exercises to give force and melody to the voice that have never occurred to them. And besides the improvement in singing, and that most valuable of all accom- plishments,, good reading, there is another to be derived from these exer- cises, which is far more important than either — it promotes health. The plan is so constructed as to call forth all the energies of the vocal organs — the lungs particularly are fortified and invigorated by practice according to his system ; and in this view of the subject I would suggest to our phy- sicians, who in general evince great assiduity and skill in preventing as well as removing disease, that they do so much for the public weal, as to call on Dr. Comstock that they may kriow the advantages of the vocal exercises. It is to be regretted that Dr. Comstock will remain but a short time with us; but short as it is, those who wish to profit by his instructions will have time to do so. Yours, P. August 15, 1834. From the Philadelphia Commercial Intelligencer, August 20, 1834. We have observed with pleasure in the Troy Whig of the 15th instant, a favourable notice of that excellent Elocutionist of our city, Dr. Comstock. He is giving lessons in Elocution at Troy with much success. From the Troy Daily Whig of August 30, 1834. DR. COMSTOCK'S LECTURES. Mr. Editor — Yesterday, I had the pleasure to hear an interesting Lec- ture on Elocution, by Andrew Comstock, M. D. from the city of Philadel- phia. He understands the elementary sounds of the English Language well, and appears to have entire command over the vocal organs. He ex- (7) 8 RECOMMElNDATIONS. plains the movements of the voice by diagrams, and measures the varia- tions of pitch by the musical scale. He has with him two books on prac- tical elocution, of which he is the author — the Rhythmical Reader, which contains pieces adapted to the taste of ladies, and Practical Elocution, which is designed lor gentlemen. He teaches his pupils from these books how to read in u graceful manner. If an individual has a feeble voice, it can be strengthen!, d ; if harsh, softened, by pursuing the course he recom- mends. He clearly points out the difference between boisterous and elo- quent speaking; and he shows how to produce a great effect upon a public assembly, with very little effort. The simplicity and power of the organs of speech furnish, I think, suf- ficient reason for the exclamation : "How wonderful is man. How passing wonder He Who made him such." Whoever wishes to attain the faculty of speaking with correctness and elegance, in public places, and in the social circle, would do well to call and examine the system for themselves. A Friend to the Science of speaking well. From the Troy Daily Budget of September 8, 1834. DR. COMSTOCK'S LECTURES. Mr. Editor — There is no branch of education more deserving of public attention than oratory. Volumes have been written upon it. It has been cultivated, as a science, in all civilized countries; and its power has been universally felt and acknowledged. Its use and importance have occupied the attention of many distinguished men of our own and other countries. Were it otherwise, orators could not command, as they now do, " the ap- plause of listening senates." To speak well is one of the highest attain- ments to which our hopes can aspire. Permit me, Sir, to invite those who wish to attain this invaluable science, to attend Dr. Comstock's Lectures on Elocution, at the Court House. His manner of reading is bold, original, and striking. I have attended his Lectures for several days ; and, in common with his other pupils, highly appreciate them. He is, in the opinion of all who have heard him lecture. a faithful, capable, and excellent elocutionist. A Friend to Oratory Dr. Comstock has been instructing my pupils two hours in a day for two weeks, in Elocution; and I am happy in having an opportunity to bear testimony to their unexampled improvement in reading and speaking. G. W. Francis. Troy, September 5, 1835. RECOMMENDATIONS. 9 From the Philanthropist, Philadelphia, January 16, 1836. ELOCUTION. We would recommend to those individuals who wish to become chaste and accomplished speakers, to take a course of instruction of Dr. Andrew Comstock, whose merits as an elocutionist we have had the opportunity to prove. His system, which has the best claims to respect, will commend itself to persons of taste, as it is entirely free from theatrical affectation, or arti- ficial display, and founded on truth and nature. Many gentlemen in the learned professions, and individuals in other spheres of life, who have received the benefits of his instruction, and who are therefore the well- qualified judges of his skill in this science, have given him unsolicited and unqualified praise. We wish him continued success. From the United States Gazette, May 7, 1836. DR. COMSTOCK'S LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. Mr. Editor : — Having occasion on my return from Washington to New- York, to stop a few days at Philadelphia, I most cheerfully availed myself of the opportunity of witnessing the exercises in Elocution in which Dr. Comstock's pupils are engaged, and it affords me pleasure to say, that I have been very highly gratified. The skill with which the Doctor imparts to his pupils a knowledge of the science and art of Elocution, and the proficiency which they have already made, are conclusive evidences that Elocution " can be taught." It was taught during the flourishing ages of Greece and Rome. Demos- thenes and Cicero studied it in those republics, and studied it thoroughly anterior to their successful appearance before their fellow-citizens as orators. I wish, Mr. Editor, that some of our members of Congress could, or rather would, put themselves under the tuition of Dr. Comstock, or some other accomplished Elocutionist, long enough, at least, to learn the princi- ples upon which good reading and speaking are founded. If our national legislators had a knowledge of Elocution, as taught by Dr. Comstock, they certainly would be heard with much more attention and interest ; and, I may add, they would be more useful to the country. Ministers of the Gospel, too, by becoming first-rate readers and speakers, can promulgate with ease and facility, the truths of Christianity. Reli- gion has suffered much in consequence of the bungling manner in which preachers and professors have presented it to the world. It is gratifying to know that several clergymen are now taking lessons in Elocution, of Dr. Comstock, and that they are making great improvement. 10 RECOMMENDATIONS. It would be well for gentlemen of the legal profession, to study the laws of Elocution, as well as those of the land. Ladies, too, ought to feel in- terested in improving their Elocution, — some of the Philadelphia ladies do; and I have had the satisfaction of hearing one of the Doctor's classes exercise, the members of which are becoming excellent readers. There are two or three literary institutions in which Dr. Comstock's valuable services have been retained. It is to be regretted that any semi- nary of learning, especially any college, should exist without a professor- ship of Elocution. It is not only an important branch of education, but as much so as any to which the attention of youth can be directed. S. N. S. U. S. Hotel, May 2, 1836. From the Episcopal Recorder, Rev. George A. Smith, Editor. Philadelphia, Saturday Morning, June 18, 1836. ELOCUTION. The following communication is from the United States Gazette. The subject is one of importance, and we are enabled from our own observa- tion to confirm the statements of the writer. Several of our clergy have attended Dr. Comstock's lectures, and consider the system which he has adopted well calculated to assist in ease and propriety of reading and speaking. Mr. Editor : — Impressed with the value of education, and inclined to contribute aught in my power to aid those who are in the pursuit of its benefits, allow me, through your columns, to make a public expression of my sentiments, regarding the character of Dr. Andrew Comstock, as a teacher of Elocution, and its kindred branches. Having been a common inmate in the Doctor's office for many weeks, examined his publications and diagrams, and witnessed his method of instruction, with the cheering success by which it has been characterised, I write understandingly upon this occasion. From the Doctor's knowledge of our organs of speech, of their diseases and remedies, and the best mode of imparting to them vigour and activity — from his knowledge of the laws of sound, ample experience in his present vocation, joined with his acknowledged integrity, I am persuaded he is eminently qualified to sustain his highest pretensions as a scientific and practical Elocutionist. Dr. Comstock's mode of instruction is founded in the philosophy of his subject, is abundantly successful in its application — stands the scrutiny of talents — challenges the confidence of society. Graduates from our halls of science, gentlemen of the learned profes- sions — ladies of cultivated minds, have been pleased to testify the essen- tial advantage they have derived from his lectures. I have myself been much delighted in seeing the rapid, material, and ofttimes complete improvement which unfortunate stammerers have made under his tuition, in their enunciation — while teacher and pupils cordially indulged in their mutual congratulations. A CLERGYMAN. RECOMMENDATIONS. 11 From the U. S. Gazette. STAMMERING CURED BY DR. COMSTOCK Mr. Editor : — Having experienced, to a very painful extent, the many privations necessarily and peculiarly connected with inveterate stammer- ing, to which I have been subject from early life, I am anxious thus to acknowledge the restoration that has been effected in my case, under the instruction of Dr. Comstock. Knowing, as I well do, how valuable such a communication would have once been to me, I am induced to pen this for the benefit of others. My articulation, until very lately, was so embarrassing and difficult, as to have, in a very great degree, shut out from me the pleasure of conver- sation. I could scarcely articulate a single sentence without considerable effort on my part, and apparent anxiety and pain to others. I therefore seldom spoke from choice, and even avoided, when possible, the necessity of doing so. I am, however, no longer subjected to these severe depriva- tions, but so relieved from them, that I can now converse with friends or strangers, and feel confident of my power to do so. Many years ago, and at some expense and trouble, I sought out Mr. Chapman, a teacher then of considerable notoriety, and placed myself im- mediately under his care. Of him I do not complaia, but notice the fact as part of my experience. Those who are aware of his injunctions know how impossible it is here to compare the peculiarities of his plan with the principles of my last tutor's, whose system, however, I should unhesi- tatingly prefer. A. EVANS. Philadelphia, June 24, 1836. A gentleman named Abner Evans called on me a few weeks ago, and desired me to examine him, in his conversation and in his reading, with reference to stammering in his speech. He informed me that he was 34 years of age — that he had been an inveterate stammerer from his infancy ; but that he had, about two weeks before that time, placed him- self under the care of Dr. Andrew Comstock, and that he now believed himself cured of the infirmity under which he had so long laboured. I examined the gentleman with considerable care, and was unable to dis- cover anything like stammering, or embarrassment or impediment in his speech, either in conversation or reading. JOHN H. WILLITS July 15th, 1836. I certify, that I have known Mr. A. Evans for a number of years, that he was an inveterate stammerer, and that he was completely relieved in two weeks, under the instruction of Dr. Comstock. I will further add, that I am intimately acquainted with Dr. C, that he has devoted several years to the study of the subject which he professes to teach, and that I believe he is fully prepared to meet any case of impediment in reading or speaking. JOS. P. MUSGRAVE, M. D. No. 142, Pine Street, Phila., July 16, 1836. 12 RECOMMENDATIONS. From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier, October 29, 1836, CURE FOR STAMMERING. A young gentleman named Samuel E. Dumeld, of M'Connelsburg, in this state, called upon us the other day, and wished us to state that he has always been subject to a natural impediment of* speech, which of late years had been increasing upon him. He visited this city, placed himself under the care of Dr. Comstock, and has been entirely cured. He can speak and read with as much fluency as though he had never been subject to any impediment of speech. From the United States Gazette, Philadelphia, Oct. 31, 1836. STAMMERING. We had on Saturday the pleasure of listening to the reading, recitation and discourse of a pupil of Dr. Comstock, who has been with him less than three weeks, and was from his infancy a stammerer, the evil increasing with the growth of the youth, and with his intercourse with society. He is now able to speak and read without the least sign of hesitancy. Dr. Comstock's system is simple, and, as it appears, efficacious, and he affects no mystery : we trust that those who are subject to the painful inconveni- ence of stammering, will apply to him; and we really believe that if they will give attention to his rules, they may be entirely cured. From the Philadelphia Gazette, Nov. 29, 1836. The following tribute to the skill of a Gentleman whose success in a very difficult profession has been astonishing, is not less grateful to the ob- ject of it himself, than it is useful to the public at large. We perform a general benefit by giving it currency through the press. Letter to Dr. Comstock, of Philadelphia. M'Connelsburg, Nov. 13, 1836. Dear Sir ; — My son has returned from the city, after an absence of about four weeks, and I cannot refrain from acknowledging my unfeigned satisfac- tion in the improvement of his speech. Before he left home it gave me pain to hear him attempt to speak ; now I will defy any person to know he had ever been a stammerer. I do cordially recommend all who have an impediment in their speech, if possible to avail themselves of 3'our sys- tem for the cure of stammering. I am, with respect, yours, &c. WILLIAM DUFFIELD. From the United States Gazette. STAMMERING. Wc publish a communication from the Rev. O. C. Comstock, Chaplain to Congress, upon the merits of his relative, Dr. A. COMSTOCK, of this city, as a professor of Elocution. From some knowledge of the scientific gentleman alluded to, and the great success which has attended his exer- tions in the cure of stammering, we cordially endorse the testimony. The Rev. Dr. Comstock, of Washington, being himself an eloquent divine, much credit may be attached to his opinions on a topic ?o entirely within his sphere. Letter to the Editor, from the Rev O. C. Comstock, Chaplain io Congress Washington, January 26, 1837. I>ir — [n this oge of arroganl pretension and stupendous hu RECOMMENDATIONS. 13 the public should receive with becoming 1 caution, every announcement of extraordinary achievements in any of the departments of useful knowledge. The wonderful exploits of ignorant and unprincipled pretenders, are fre- quently lauded to the skies, in the newspaper paragraphs of anonymous writers. Disdaining to impose on honest credulity, by making an asser- tion where I cannot establish a fact — indisposed to avoid any responsibility, that may be attached to my character, I will not be induced to do so upon this occasion, by withholding my humble name from this article, in con- sequence of the delicate collateral relation subsisting between myself and the talented and honourable gentleman to whom it alludes — I mean Dr. A. Comstock, of Philadelphia. The Dr. before and since his graduation at the univei sity of Pennsylvania, has been muchemployed in theeducation of youth. The books and diagrams which he has published, illustrating the true principles of elocution, and the methods by which it can be most successfully taught — the high state of improvement witnessed and admired, in the voice, reading and speaking of his pupils, render him deservedly celebrated as an elocutionist, wherever his reputation is known. But I should not have obtruded these remarks upon the consideration of your readers, would they not conduce to a better understanding of the follow- ing intelligence, which I hope m^y subserve the interests of suffering humanity. My friend has removed, in numbers of unfortunate stammerers, that most embarrassing and painful difficulty of enunciation with which they have been affected. Some of these sufferers had been long schooled by others, with reference to the removal of this calamity, with little or no success. That a cure, in this case, is an object most ardently to be desired, is deeply felt by every victim of this misfortune — by every fond parent, who, but for stammering, might regard his darling boy a fair candidate for the highest academic honours — the applause of listening Senates. There is now before my mental vision a lovely boy of great promise, on whom his parents design to bestow a finished education ; but who, alas ! was painfully afflicted with stammering. He is now, however, under the tuition of Dr. Comstock, greatly improving in his elocution ; inspiring the confident expectation of perfect victory over the source of so much unhappiness. The sparkling animation of his eye — his cheering smiles — express the rapture of his grateful heart. The thankfulness and joyful anticipation of his parents cannot be described, or even imagined, but by those in similar circumstances. Having spent some months with my relative, I am well acquainted with his system, and manner of instruction, and its delightful results. Unlike all sorts of imposture, there is no afft ctafion of superlative wisdom held as a profound secret, in the theory and practice of this valuable art — as triumphantly explored and applied by the Doctor. His course of opera- tion is founded in an extensive knowledge of his subject — the fruit of his ample study and practice. His discipline developes, invigorates, and ren- ders flexible the organs of speech. He teaches his pupils how these organs are to be properly exercised. They are marie obedient to the will — capable of much and various accomplishments. In short, he cures stammerers, by teaching them scientific and practical elocution. How much reason have we to rejoice in the march of mind — the efforts of philanthropy — the benevolence of God. Yours, with respect, O. C. COMSTOCK 14 RECOMMENDATIONS. Certificates from Professor Horner and Professor Hare, of the Univer- sity of Pennsylvania. Having been present on the 10th inst. at the exercises of the pupils in Dr. Andrew Comstock's Gymnasium, for the improvement of the voice and of the articulation in stammerers and others, the impression made upon me was highly favourable to his method of instruction. The system is founded upon an exact anatomical and physiological inform- ation, in regard to the organs concerned in the production and modification of sound. Its several parts appear to have been evolved and matured upon a degree of thought and an extent of experiment reflecting much credit upon his sagacity and industry, and it inspires a very strong confidence of its ap- plicability to the faults generally of speech or phonation. One of his pupils, who only a week before the occasion alluded to, had been a most unpleasant stammerer, was then heard to recite publicly with great ease and fluency, with a full intonation. W. E. HORNER, M. D. Professor of Anatomy in the University of Pennsylvania. Philadelphia, Aug. 11, 1837. Philadelphia, Aug. 14th, 1837. Having been present on the occasion alluded to in the preceding letter of the Professor of Anatomy, I have no hesitation in alleging that my impres- sions are consistent with those which my colleague has therein expressed. ROBERT HARE, M. D. Professor of Chemistry in the University of Pennsylvania. From the Select Medical Library and Eclectic Journal of Medicine, edited by John Bell, M. D., Lecturer on the Institutes of Medicine and Medical Jurisprudence, Member of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia, and of the American Philosophical Society, etc. September, 1837. COMSTOCK'S VOCAL GYMNASIUM AND LYCEUM FOR ELOCUTION. It is not necessary that a man should be a stammerer, in order to be aware, from personal experience, of his imperfection in vocal utterance and speech. We are taught to read and to express ourselves grammatically in conversa- tion ; but how few learn suitable intonation, and a full and a distinct utter- ance, — by which speech obtains much of its charm and acquires often all its influence. Graceful gestures in walking and dancing, and in presenting one's self in company, are thought by many to be of paramount importance; and hence, as a matter of course, the majority of young persons of both sexes are placed under the direction of a teacher of dancing. And yet, after all, what are the graces of manner compared to the melody of voice; and how imperfect the address of the otherwise accomplished gentleman or lady, with- out full and mellifluous speech ! Nature here, as in all that concerns either bodily or mental endowment, does, it is true, establish great differences amongst individuals. One person has, naturally, a musical voice, as it is called ; another a harsh or somewhat dissonant one. But still, education pos* RECOMMENDATIONS. 15 sesses, we also know, a good deal of plastic power; and in no case is the in- fluence of physical education more evident than in the strength which exer- cise gives to the muscles in general, and in the agility and grace which prac- tice imparts to the movements of the limbs; as in the evolutions of the dance, and on the tight rope, &c. On the same principle precisely, without any charm, magic or mystification, can the muscles which, by their successive or alternate and combined action, give rise to voice and speech, be educated into strength and measured and harmonious movement, and produce clear and full intonation, distinct articulation, and emphatic utterance. This particular department of muscular exercise and education, has greater claims on our time and attention than any other. The organs of speech, with few unfortunate exceptions, are possessed by all mankind ; they are in con- stant use by all, — their functions are of the highest moment to all, whether for the display of the charms of song and poetry, the persuasion of oratory, the invocation of prayer, and the numberless exchanges of opinion and ex- pression of the affections and emotions in social intercourse. The most rigid puritan or methodist, who would regard with distaste, perhaps horror, the ex- ercises of the dance, and attach no importance to the graces of bodily move- ment, will still be as naturally and properly desirous of cultivating the voice, as the greatest stickler for worldly accomplishments. He does it in learning to sing the praises of his Maker, and when engaged in the solemn exercises of prayer and exhortation. With the other sex, the charm of voice is a powerful means of persuasion and control. It gives to woman much of her influence — an influence de- pending on the mildness of her manner, and her soft and musical tones, dis- played in the language of sympathy, entreaty, and of kind remonstrance. Her's is the privilege and the duty to be at the side of the suffering invalid, in infancy, in youth, and in mature age; to comfort the mourner, and to aid the poor and distressed. And what makes the potions to the feverish patient less nauseous — what gives balm to the language of resignation, and imparts the glow of pleasure to the wan and weary beggar, when she is, in each case, the ministering angel ! Much is in the pitying look, much in the in- clining gesture and softened manner ; but still more in the tones of her voice, her low and smoothly uttered words of solace and of hope. Why then should this instrument, which is capable of giving out such ex- quisite music, be jarred and discordant in its tones, through early neglect and bad habits. It has been said by European travellers of both sexes, that Amer- ican women would be in all respects charming, but for their want of melody of voice in common speech. Surely this stigma, for such in one sense it is, might be, and ought to be removed, just as the flutter, agitation, and jerking movements of the body and limbs would be corrected, by appropriate exercise and training under tasteful guidance and precept. Still more necessary is this kind of education where the imperfection amounts to disease, as in hesitancy, stammering, and other imperfect articu- lation. The cure requires time, patience on the part both of the invalid and of the vocal doctor, and practice in the manner which scientific experience, not impudent and boastful quackery, has shown to be most serviceable, so as to give that confidence which is the result of conscious ability. The timidity and feeling of embarrassment of the stammerer, are both effects and sustain- ing causes of his impediment. So soon as he knows that his vocal organs 16 RECOMMENDATIONS. are capable of obeying the commands of his will, and of giving expression to his thoughts, his mind acts with more energy and intentness ; and he no longer allows himself to be trammelled in his speech, by the weak, tremulous and convulsive movements of the muscles, which, under less energetic voli- tion, used to be so common with him. When we wrote the caption of this article, we did not intend to direct the attention of our professional brethren merely to the existing evils, but were desirous to apprize them of the fact, that one of our own number has for many years past concentrated his talents and his time exclusively to the subject of Elocution, both in its hygienic relations with fluent speech in private and public, in the social circle and at the bar, the pulpit and the legislative hall ; and, also, in its curative character, to remove stammering and other impedi ments to clear and distinct articulation and utterance. The gentleman to whom we refer, is Dr. Andrew Comstock of this city. He makes no preten- sion to a knowledge of any specific for the cure of stammerers, nor does he attempt to shroud his method in unintelligible jargon, nor to conceal it from public and scientific investigation, by swearing his pupils to secrecy. All these are arts and tricks unworthy of the literary and professional character, and disreputable, above all, to him who professes to be a teacher, and in whom manly sincerity ought ever to shine conspicuously, as an example to those under his charge. In Doctor Comstock's Institution, " Elocution is treated as a science as well as an art. The various movements of the voice, both in speech and song, are illustrated by original diagrams, and by oral instruction. The exercises give the pupil complete command of the muscles of articulation, extend the compass of the voice and render it smooth, powerful, and melodious. They not only call forth all the energies of the vocal organs, correct stammering, lisping, and other impediments of speech ; but they invigorate the lungs, and consequently fortify them against the invasion of disease." To a certain ex- tent, general is associated with vocal gymnastics; and one great cause of em- barrassment from awkwardness of manner and posture in the stammerer, is removed by the substitution of a free and easy carriage and movements of the arms in gesticulation. In other words, all the voluntary muscles of the trunk and limbs move in the order required by the will, synchronously and harmo- niously with those of the voice. In proof that Doctor Comstock is above the petty arts of making elocution a mere craft and mystery, we have now before us, Remarks on Stammering, from a Lecture on Elocution, delivered before the American Lyceum, May 6, 1837, in which he explains the chief features of his system, and indicates the kind and order of exercises to be pursued for the cure of Stammerers. But like all other branches of professional knowledge, this can only be rendered efficient and applicable to the cure of individual cases by a practitioner, a person who directs knowingly and understandingly, and superintends care- fully and patiently, the treatment, making such modifications as seem to be called for by his own personal experience and the idiosyncracy of the patient RECOMMENDATIONS. 1? From the Public Ledger, July 27, 1837. Remarks on Stammering. — We have received a small pamphlet with this /itle, being the substance of a lecture delivered before the American Lyceum, May 6, 1837, by Andrew Cornstock, M. D., of this city. He has treated his subject scientifically, and in a manner showing that he understands the human voice both theoretically and practically. He has been engaged for ten years, investigating the human voice, for the purpose of forming a system of just elocution, and of removing impediments of speech; and from reading this little pamphlet, we should infer that he had been successful. From the United States Gazette. Congress Hall, Philadelphia, Nov. 25, 1837. Andrew Comstock, M. D. Dear Sir, — Before leaving your city, allow me to express to you the perfect satisfaction I feel, in witnessing the progress which my son has made in Elocution under your instruction. The habit of stammering which commenced with his early efforts to speak, and which thirteen years (his present age) seemed only to confirm, is now, with six weeks' instruction, completely eradicated. Though delighted beyond expression in this result, I am not disappointed. From the moment I became acquainted with your method of instruction, I did not doubt its entire success. Founded on scientific principles, it must succeed in all cases where there is no malformation of the organs of speech. You have reduced to a system what before was but imperfectly understood, and done most essential service to mankind in elevating a numerous class of unfortunate fellow-beings, and saved them from the impositions of ignorant and unprincipled empirics. Very respectfully, your obedient servant, E. PIERCE, M.D. of Athens, N. Y. From the Public Ledger, March 17, 1838. STAMMERING CURED. Philadelphia, March 1, 1838. . Messrs. Editors, — Being about to leave this city for the West, I would thank you to give publicity to my testimony as to the skill of Dr. Andrew Comstock, No. 100, Arch street, Philadelphia, in removing stammering. I have been under his care about eight weeks, for the removal of a painful impediment of eighteen years standing, which debarred me from the plea- sures of conversation and social intercourse. I can now converse very fluently, and have addressed large audiences without the least hesitation. 34 18 RECOMMENDATIONS. I am now 23 years of age, and you can judge of my gratitude to him for removing a complaint which has embittered the greatest part of my life. I take great pleasure in recommending him to those similarly afflicted. His system being founded on scientific principles, and the fact of his being the'* only individual in America, who professes the cure of stammering, without exacting from his patient a promise of secrecy, proves that his system will bear investigation. WM. R. COMBS. We certify that we have been intimately acquainted with Wm. R. Combs for the last three years ; that he was a very bad stammerer, and that he was entirely relieved under the instruction of Dr. Andrew Comstock, of No. 100, Arch street, Philadelphia. John R. Beck, No. 17, Elizabeth st. Thomas J. White, No. 380, N. Second st. Jacob Grim, No. 480, N. Third st. Thomas P. Heyl, No. 173, Green st. STAMMERING CURED. Philadelphia, March 9, 1838. Messrs. Editors, — About seven weeks since I placed myself under the care of Dr. Andrew Comstock, No. 100, Arch street, Philadelphia, for the removal of an impediment in my speech, with which I had been afflicted for thirteen years. I am now happy to state that I am able to converse with ease and fluency, and that I feel no hesitation in speaking in public. I have witnessed the same happy results in many other cases, both of ladies and gentlemen. I have not a doubt of his success in curing the most inveterate stammerer. Unlike all others who have professed to cure stammering in this country, Dr. Comstock exacts no promise of secrecy from his patient. HENRY J. ENN1S, No. 248, Pearl street, New-York. From the Phoenix Civilian, Cumberland, Md., May 19, 1838. Our acquaintance with the young gentleman mentioned below, who has received the benefit of Dr. Comstock's treatment in the cure of an impedi- ment of speech under which he laboured, enables us to bear evidence of the efficacy of that treatment. Since his return from Philadelphia, whore he had been under Dr. Comstock's care for a short time, we find that his speech is free and easy ; so much so, that had we not been aware of the great diffi culty under which he laboured before, we should not now kn.,.v that lie evei had been cured oi" such an affliction. RECOMMENDATIONS. 19 From the Pennsylvanian, Philadelphia, April 26, 1838. A GRATIFYING TESTIMONIAL. The subjoined letter to Dr. Cornstock, Professor of Elocution, of this city, is from a young gentleman of great respectability, residing at Cumberland, Allegany county, Maryland, where his father is one of the leading prac- titioners at the bar. The writer of the letter, who, we believe, is a student at law, laboured under a serious impediment in speech, which would have greatly interfered with his professional advancement; but it appears from his own statement, that under the care of Dr. Cornstock, he was completely and radically cured. The letter subjoined, is a voluntary and grateful testimonial to that effect. Cumberland, Md., April 20, 1838. Dr. Andrew Comstock : Dear Sir, — I have deferred giving a certificate with regard to the success I met with in my recent visit to your Institution, No. 100, Arch street, Phi- ladelphia, for the purpose of removing an impediment in my speech, until the present period, that I might thoroughly test the effects of your system upon my articulation by time and experience. Both of these, I am happy to inform you, find me now — as was the case when I left Philadelphia on the 13th of February last — perfectly fluent in reading as well as in conversa- tion — so much so, that it would be impossible for any one who had no pre- vious knowledge of my impediment, to know that any such defect ever afflicted rne. But besides the happy effect your system has had in relieving my impedi- ment, it has been of incalculable benefit to me in many other respects. My voice, which was formerly weak, and incapable of being raised very little higher than the ordinary tone used in common conversation, has been greatly improved and strengthened ; and now it costs me but a slight physical effort to fill a considerable space. In conclusion, I unhesitatingly recommend all those similarly afflicted, to make a trial of your system. Besides the success which has attended it in my own case, I have seen many others greatly benefited — both ladies and gentlemen. This speaks more strongly in its favour than words can express, and should remove all doubt from the minds of individuals, if any exist, as to its efficacy in effecting a cure. Very respectfully, your obedient servant, CHARLES H. J. PIGMAN. DR. COMSTOCK'S EXHIBITIONS IN VOCAL GYMNASTICS. The STAMMERERS under Dr. Comstock, both Ladies and Gentlemen, give a variety of recitations, at the Vocal Gymnasium, (entrance by Ranstead Court, Fourth St. above Chesnut,) every Tuesday evening. TICKETS, 25 cents each, — and may be obtained at Osborn's Music Store, Fourth Street, two doors below Ran- stead Court. Each ticket admits a gentleman and two ladies. The exercises commence at 8 o'clock. □Cf 3 The design of these Exhibitions is to give confidence to the Stammerer, which is so essential to his relief, and make the public better acquainted with the system of instruction and its beneficial results. The sale of tickets is to secure an audience of respectable persons, and defray the incidental expenses. ANDREW COMSTOCK. RECOMMENDATIONS. From the Public Ledger, February 6, 1838. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. A class of students in elocution, and stammerers, under Dr. Comstock, exhibited at the Vocal Gymnasium, (Ranstead Court, Fourth Street, above Chesnut,) on Saturday evening last. Dr. Comstock's lecture on elocution and stammering displayed an intimate knowledge of his subject, and the performances of the class did infinite credit to his talents as a teacher. m RECOMMENDATIONS. 21 From the Pennsylvanian, February 6, 1838. Dr. Comstock, the professor of elocution, gave an exhibition on Saturday evening, at the Temperance Hall, N. L., for the purpose chiefly of affording a practical explanation of his system of instruction, and showing its success in the cure of stammering and other defects of speech. A large audience, many ladies being among the number, was present, and the exercises evi- dently gave general satisfaction. It was surprising to hear the firmness and smoothness with which the pupils spoke, many of whom until recently were confirmed stammerers, and it was still more surprising to learn in how short a time the evil habit had been eradicated, the consciousness of a complete cure being strongly manifest in the modest confidence with which the Doc- tor's pupils, several of whom were young ladies, went through their recita- tions before so large an audience. It must not, however, be supposed that this system of instruction is intended solely for the stammerer. Founded upon the sound philosophical principles laid down by Dr. Rush, it is impor tant in many respects. It has a wonderful effect in developing the voice, and in giving it volume, flexibility and compass, while the practice of the elements strengthens the chest, and is very beneficial to the general health, fortifying it in a measure against the approach of diseases of the lungs. The advantage of vocal gymnastics judiciously conducted, is not yet per- haps fully appreciated, but it is more than probable that the time will come when they will form a part of every liberal course of instruction. From the Public Ledger, February 16, 1838. VOCAL GYMNASTICS. The exhibition of Dr. Comstock's class of Stammerers, at Temperance Hall, on Wednesday evening, was highly gratifying to a numerous and highly respectable audience of ladies and gentlemen. The system pursued appears to be calculated to accomplish the end in view ; but the eminent success it has so far met with, is to be ascribed, in a great degree, to the talents of Dr. Comstock as a teacher. From the Christian Advocate and Journal, New - York, April 27, 1838, Philadelphia, April 2, 1838. Dear Brethren, — Having attended Dr. Comstock's exhibitions, I am fully persuaded, that with proper attention on the part of the pupils, he can cure them. I was induced to attend in consequence of his having in his class a particular friend of mine, whose case was one of the worst I ever knew ; and to my astonishment, he addressed an audience without the least diffi- culty, making quite a display as an orator. His age is about twenty-one years. If you feel at liberty to notice him in your paper, you may rendei essential service to stammerers. Respectfully, J. HARMSTEAD. 34- 22 RECOMMENDATIONS. From the United States Gazette, April 30, 1838. STAMMERERS. The recitations, and other vocal exercises, made on Tuesday evenings, at Dr. Comstock's Vocal Gymnasium, in Ranstead Court, furnish evidence of great success in his mode of teaching. His pupils, to the number of thirty or forty, male and female, give recitations in a style that shows, not only the entire absence of any disposition to stammer, but evincing also a striking proficiency in the agreeable, as well as useful science of elocution. From the Pennsylvania Inquirer, May 10, 1838. STAMMERING. A friend in whose judgment as well as impartiality we place reliance, speaks in terms of warm commendation of Dr. Comstock's success in curing Impediments in speech, and imparting a free action to the organs of articu- lation. The public recitations of his class, which take place every Tuesday evening, at his room adjoining the Church in Ranstead Court, are spoken of as furnishing evidence of success in curing stammerers, as well as of striking proficiency in elocution, which Dr. C. teaches with great effect. From the United States Gazette. Mr. Editor, — I have attended two of the Vocal Gymnastic Exhibitions which have attracted so much attention in our city. The design of these exhibitions, as stated by Dr. Comstock, with whom they have originated, and by whom they are conducted, is to enable the stammerer to rid himself of that timidity which is a greater or less aggravation of his disease. If timidity in one who has no impediment of speech, interrupts the utterance of thoughts, surely in a confirmed stammerer, it must be a source of the highest degree of embarrassment to the vocal organs. Timidity, then, must be removed before the stammerer can have full command of his own organs of speech. To do this, Dr. Comstock brings his whole class, both ladies and gentlemen, before the crowded houses which assemble to hear the welkin ring with their various exercises in what is well denominated by Dr. C. Vocal Gymnastics. Could art, science, experience, wisdom, or philosophy, suggest a more efficacious means for the destruction of timidity than the production of courage by individual and collective public speaking ? Nor is the performance of these stammerers void of all powers to edify, and amuse — there is much to instruct, and please, both in manner and matter, in these exhibitions, which, for the sake of the great good they seem likely to pro- duce to the afflicted stammerer, I hope will be fully sustained by this enlightened public. A Well Wisher to Freedom of Speech. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION, Or, A System of Vocal Gymnastics, comprising Diagrams, illustrative of the sub- ject, and Exercises, designed for the Promotion of Health, the Cure of Stammering, and Improvement in Reading and Speaking. By Andrew Comstock, M. D. Second Edition. Kay & Brother, 122, Chesnut Street. RECOMMENDATIONS. From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier, Dec. 2, 1837. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Dr. Comstock, a gentleman with whose name our readers are familiar as the scientific curer of Stammering-, has issued a second edition of his work on Practical Elocution. It is believed to be the best practical work extant upon this important subject. It is based upon the philosophical develope- ments of the celebrated Dr. Rush ; and so far as strengthening the lungs is concerned, the exercises it teaches are of vast importance. Those who do not intend to become orators, may cultivate and improve the conversational and colloquial powers, and secure a grace, ease and power, that will render them polished and sought-for intelligences in the mystic roads of social intercourse. The work is illustrated with engravings, and very beautifully got up both in paper and print. From the Philadelphia Saturday News, Dec. 2, 1837. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION, Or, A System of Vocal Gymnastics, &c. By Andrew Comstock, M. D. Dr. Comstock is known as a skilful and scientific teacher of elocution. He has devoted much study to the subject, and has had the advantage of very considerable experience in the practical application of his knowledge. His classes are generally filled with pupils, and their success is the best testimonial of the merits of his system. This volume will be found a valuable aid to those who are engaged eithei in teaching or acquiring the important art of elocution. Besides a concise but sufficiently clear, analysis of the subject, and various explanatory details, it furnishes a series of diagrams calculated very much to facilitate the pro- gress of the learners. These diagrams have been prepared with much care and labour, and reflect high praise on the industry and ability of Doctor Comstock. (23) 24 RECOMMENDATIONS. From the United States Gazelle. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Messrs. Kay & Brother, 122, Chesnut street, have published a second edi- tion of Dr. Andrew Comstock's Practical Elocution, or, a System of Vocal Gymnastics. We really believe that the great labour and amount of time which Dr. C. has bestowed upon this volume, will be productive of essen- tial benefits to the learner. The selections are apposite, and the remarks such as show the author master of his subject. From the Saturday Chronicle, Philadelphia, Dec. 2, 1837. Practical Elocution. — Kay Sf Brother. — Philadelphia. The volume now before us, comprises a system of " Vocal Gymnastics," by Andrew Comstock, M. D., and consists of diagrams, illustrative of the subject, and exercises. The plan recommended is designed for th^ promotion of health, cure of stammering, and improvement in reading and speaking. The rapid sale of its first edition seems to be a proof of its popularit) ; while several men of eminence in literature and science have pronounced Doctor Comstock's system a decided improvement upon the usual routine of teach- ing in Elocution. From the Public Ledger, Philadelphia, Dec. 5, 1837. COMSTOCK'S PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. We have received from Dr. Andrew Comstock, of this city, a copy of his late work, entitled "Practical Elocution, or, a System of Vocal Gymnastics, comprising Diagrams and Exercises, &c, designed for the promotion of health, the cure of stammering, and improvement in reading and speaking." This work contains rules for pronouncing all the vowels, sub-vowels, and diphthongs in the English language, with plates to illustrate the position of the mouth in pronouncing them. These sounds he denominates elements ; and he gives tables exhibiting an analysis of words, consisting of both easy and difficult combinations of these elements. In spelling these words, the pupil is required to pronounce the clement or vowel sound, and not the name of the letter or combination of letters which represent it, as is usual in the schools. The book also contains rules for every species of modulation and intonation of the voice, and of time, in reading, speaking, and singing. It contains remarks on stammering, and rules for curing it; and practical lessons in reading and speaking, consisting of selections in prose and verse, printed with different characters, to denote the proper modulations. It also contains plates, representing every variety of attitude and gesture required ill good speaking. RECOMMENDATIONS. 25 This must be a valuable work to those who would learn to read or speak well, and especially to those afflicted with stammering or other impediments of speech. It is useless to dilate upon the importance of elocution to all who have occasion to read or speak to others. To lawyers, legislators, cler- gymen, and speakers in public meetings, it is particularly important; for though to intelligent and well informed minds, the graces of manner add nothing to the force of argument, they are exceedingly important in securing an attentive hearing. An indifferent sermon, if well preached, will produce great effeet, while one of the highest order, badly delivered, will be lost upon a great portion of the audience. This is entirely because the first secures the attention of its hearers, and thereby enables every argument or illustra- tion to reach their understandings ; while the second is not understood, because not heard. We recommend Dr. Comstock's book to every person who would wish to speak or read well. From the Herald and Sentinel, Philadelphia, Dec. 11, 1837. COMSTOCK'S PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Dr. Comstock: has been long and favourably known in this city as a teacher of elocution. The art of public speaking is a common attainment ; but the art of speaking effectively, powerfully, and well, by a proper disci- pline of voice, gesture and action, is no easy acquisition. The voice is a great instrument of influence. Some orators who have been " vox et pr