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RUSSELL'S AMERICAN ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 THE 
 
 AMERICAN 
 
 ELOCUTIONIST; 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 LESSONS IN ENUNCIATION', < EXERCISES IN ELO- 
 CUTION', AND 'RUDIMENTS OF GESTURE': 
 
 WITH A SELECTION OF NEW 
 
 PIECES FOR PRACTICE IN READING 
 AND DECLAMATION; 
 
 ENGRAVED ILLUSTRATIONS IN ATTITUDE AND ACTION. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR COLLEGES, PROFESSIONAL INSTITUTIONS, ACADEMIES 
 AND COMMON SCHOOLS. 
 
 BY WILLIAM RUSSELL, 
 \\ 
 
 CD. AMERICAN JOURNAL OF EDUCATION,' (FIRST SERIES,) INSTRUCTOR IN ELOCTmON 
 
 AT ABBOT FEMALE ACADEMY, PHILLIPS ACADEMY, AND THE THEOLOGICAL 
 
 SEMINARY, ANDOVER, MASS. ; AND AT THE THEOL. INSTITUTE, 
 
 B. WINDSOR, CONN. 
 
 SIXTH EDITION. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 BREWER AND TILESTON. 
 
 Iff-*- 
 
GIFT 
 
 rE OF 
 
 WiLLAM C. RIVES 
 
 APKlL, 1940 / i ' r\% 
 
 
 ..)%+*H 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1844, 
 
 BY WILLIAM RUSSELL, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The book now offered, under the title of The American Elocutionist, 
 comprises the author's course of instruction, formerly presentee 1 in the 
 three distinct works mentioned in the title-page of this. 
 
 The change thus made in the form of publication, enables the pub- 
 lishers to afford the whole matter of the original series, at a price very 
 much reduced, with a large addition of pieces for practice, in reading and 
 decollation. 
 
 Andover, Mass., Feb., 1844. 
 
 *#* Arrangements are made, still to issue the Lessons in Enunciation, in a 
 separate form, for the convenience of schools for the younger class of learners. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE SEVERAL WORKS COMPRISED IN THE 
 PRESENT VOLUME. 
 
 From the Phil. U. S. Gazette. — "Those who take an interest in the important pari 
 of Elocution to which this book, (Lessons in Enunciation,) refers, will find in its pages 
 much to elucidate the subject, and insure to the scholar valuable attainments. The 
 book should find its way into all our schools." 
 
 From the Boston Courier. — " This little book, (Lessons in Enunciation,) is one of 
 great value. No schoolmaster, no man who ever ventures to read or speak in public, 
 no professor, no student in any college, should be without it." 
 
 "We recommend Mr. Russell's 'Elocution' to the favour of instructors, parents, 
 and pupils. Let those who would read easily and agreeably to themselves, and for tha 
 gratification and improvement of others, study it well and faithfully." 
 
 From the Massachusetts Common School Journal, Dec. I5t?i, 1843. — "We have 
 used Mr. Russell's Lessons in Enunciation, ever since their first appearance, and 
 never have seen any thing better adapted to their purpose. Ed. p. t." 
 
 From the same. — " Lessons in Enunciation, a little work which ought to be in the 
 hands of every teacher in the United States ; as"being the best book, for its purposes, 
 that can be found in the language." 
 
 Mr. George. B. Emerson, of Boston, speaking of the author's Exercises in Elocu- 
 tion, says, " I doubt not, — from the great excellence of your Lessons in Enunciation, 
 which I have used constantly, with all my classes, ever since I first saw the book, — 
 that it must be a valuable addition to our means of instruction." 
 
 From the Boston Christian Register. — " The number is not small, we trust, of those 
 who have studied with profit the excellent books entitled Lessons in Enunciation, and 
 Rudiments of Gesture. The volume before us, (referring to the Exercises in Elocu- 
 tion.) we have read with great satisfaction ; and we strongly recommend it to ail who 
 axe in search of the best helps in the art of reading and speaking." 
 
 From Mr. J. E. Murdoch, Elocutionist, Boston. — "I have used Mr. Russell's 
 Lessons in Enunciation, Exercises in Elocution, and Rudiments of Gesture, with my 
 classes, and consider them the best books of any that I have found, in their respective 
 departments, especially as regards systematic instruction in the theory of the art, and 
 the practical application of the principles of the science which are exhibited in Dr. 
 Rush's Philosophy of the Voice."— Boston, April 22d, 1844. 
 
 Stereotype! by @> 
 
 GEORGE A. .CURTIS, 
 
 NEW ENGLAND TYPE ANO STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Advertisement 3 
 
 Preface 5 
 
 Enunciation. . - .' .9 
 
 Introductory Observations. . 9 
 Elementary Exercises. . 10 
 
 Table of the Elementary Sounds 
 
 of the English Language. . 10 
 Exercises embracing the Ele- 
 ments of Articulation, and the 
 Rules of Pronunciation. . 13 
 Errors in Articulation. . . 29 
 Common Errors exemplified in 
 
 Phrases 37 
 
 Pronunciation- .... 43 
 Words in which the current 
 pronunciation of the United 
 Stales deviates from that 
 of England. ... 52 
 Mode of Enunciation required for 
 Public Reading ana Speak- 
 ing 55 
 
 Force 61 
 
 Pitch 64 
 
 Time. . . . .66 
 
 Exercises on Force of Utterance. 67 
 
 Exercises on Pitch. . . ' . 70 
 
 Exercises on Time. . .'71 
 
 Inflection. . . . . .73 
 
 Simple Rising and Falling In- 
 flections. . . - . .74 
 
 Circumflex 76 
 
 Monotone 76 
 
 Rules on the Falling Inflection. 77 
 Rules on the Rising Inflection. 84 
 General Rule on Parenthesis. . 90 
 Rule on the Circumflex. . .91 
 Rule on the Monotone. . . -92 
 Errors in Inflection. . . .93 
 Suggestions ior Practice. . . 95 
 Concluding Remarks on the 
 
 Theory of Inflection. - . 98 
 Exeiv*ses on Inflection. . .100 
 Exercises on the Falling Inflec- 
 tion 102 
 
 Exercises on the Rising Inflec- 
 tion 113 
 
 Empha^s. . . - . .118 
 Definition. . . . .118 
 
 Rule 120 
 
 Errors 121 
 
 Suggestions for Practice. . . 122 
 
 Exercises 123 
 
 Pauses 12.6 
 
 PABB 
 
 Definition 127 
 
 Rules 130 
 
 Errors 133 
 
 Suggestions for Practice. . .134 
 Tones and Modulation. . .135 
 
 Definition 13G 
 
 Single Tones 137 
 
 Examples. .... 138 
 Successive Tones. . . . 139 
 
 Examples 141 
 
 Errors 143 
 
 Rules. ...... 149 
 
 Suggestions for Practice. . .150 
 
 Exercises 153 
 
 Successive Tones. . . .160 
 
 Cadence 166 
 
 Definition 167 
 
 Rules 168 
 
 Errors 169 
 
 Suggestions for Practice. . 175 
 Reading of Poetry. . . .176 
 
 Definition 177 
 
 Prosodial Pauses. . . .180 
 
 Metre 133 
 
 Errors 188 
 
 Rule 193 
 
 Suggestions for Practice. . .193 
 
 Rudiments of Gesture. . . .199 
 
 Introductory Observations. . 199 
 
 Attitude 202 
 
 Preparatory Movements. . . 202 
 Position of the Feel. . . . 203 
 
 Errors 204 
 
 Rule 205 
 
 Movement of the Feet. . . .206 
 
 Errors 207 
 
 Rule 203 
 
 Position and Movetaent of the 
 
 Limbs ilO 
 
 Errors. . . . .ill 
 
 Rule 212 
 
 Position and Movement of the 
 
 Trunk 212 
 
 Errors 213 
 
 Rule. . . '. . .215 
 Position and Movement of the 
 Head aud Countenance. . 215 
 
 Errors 216 
 
 Rule 216 
 
 Gesture .217 
 
 Position and Movement of the 
 
 Hand 217 
 
 Errors 218 
 
iv 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Rule 221 
 
 Position and Movement of the 
 
 Arm 222 
 
 Errors 223 
 
 Rules 232 
 
 Pieces for Practice 
 In Reading and Declamation. 
 
 Legend of the Seven Sleepers. 
 
 Lyell. 249 
 Evening on the Ocean. 
 
 Montgomery. 250 
 The West. . . Anonymous. 252 
 Reconciliation between Great Bri- 
 tain and the United States. . 
 
 Chatham. 254 
 Bunker-Hill Monument. Webster. 255 
 Death of De Argentine. . Scott. 257 
 Speech against Writs of Assist- 
 ance. . . . . . Otis. 260 
 
 Bernardo and King Alphonso. . 
 
 Translated by Lockhart. 261 
 Value of Decision and Intre- 
 pidity Walsh. 263 
 
 Election Anecdote. . . Anon. 266 
 Oregon. . Knickerbocker Mag \ 26S 
 The Gladiator. . . Jones. 270 
 Address to the people of Meath. 
 
 Henry Grattan. 272 
 The Leper. . . . Willis. 273 
 American Freedom. . Dewey. 276 
 Conversation. . . Coxcper. 277 
 Sand Storm in the Desert. Frazer. 278 
 Night in Venice. . . Byron. 280 
 Incapability of the British Minis- 
 try of 1782. . Lord Holland. 281 
 Character of Washington. . 
 
 Webster. 283 
 Cataract of Lodore. . Southey. 284 
 The British Constitution. . 
 
 Sir Robert Peel. 286 
 King Edward's Address to his 
 
 Army _ Bulwer. 288 
 
 Warwick's Address to his Troops. 
 
 lb. 289 
 Night among the Alps. 
 
 Montgomery. 290 
 Death of the Last Constantine. 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 292 
 Genius and Method. . Diderot. 295 
 Ode to an ancient Sycamore on 
 
 the Ohio. . . Dr. Bird. 297 
 Address before the Society of St. 
 
 Patrick. . . Earl Moira. 299 
 Dialogue from the Lady of the 
 
 Lake Scott. 300 
 
 Speech on the Government of 
 India Fox. 304 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lines to the Clock at Hampton 
 
 Court. . G. P. R. James. 306 
 Unsuccessful Attempt to ' Raise 
 
 the Wind.' . . Dickens. 307 
 Niagara Falls. . . . Anon. 311 
 South Carolina. . Haynes. 314 
 New England. . . Cushing. 315 
 
 Noon Bryant. 316 
 
 Success in Life. . . Anon. 31 S 
 The Past. . . . Sprague. 320 
 The Lawyer and the Politician, 
 
 (Dialogue.) . . Murphy. 32 1 
 Sonnet to an aged Beggar. . 
 
 Coleridge. 324 
 Sonnet to Lafayette in the Dun- 
 geon of Olmutz. . . . lb. 324 
 National Greatness. Channing. 325 
 Manufactures and Commerce con- 
 trasted with Chivalry. 
 
 St. Leger. 326 
 Animal Happiness. . Coumer. 327 
 Dialogue from the Triumph of 
 
 Lucca. . . Miss Landon. 329 
 Eulogy of Washington. 
 
 Lord Brougham. 332 
 Reform in Parliament. . 
 
 Lord Grey. 334 
 False Eloquence. . . Anor. 336, 
 Scene from the Lord of the Isles. 
 
 Scott. 337 
 Fate of McGregor. . . Hogg. 343 
 Speech on the Irish Disturbance 
 
 Bill. . . . . O'Connell. 34G 
 Former Condition of Ireland. . 
 
 Shiel. 349 
 Marseillese Hymn. Translation. 350 
 Heroism of the Pilgrims. Choate. 352 
 Address to the Swedes. 
 
 'Gustavus' Vasa.' 354 
 The Point of Honour. . 
 
 Shakspeare. 355 
 The Liberty of Americans. . 
 
 Hillard. 356 
 Death of Lafayette. . Everett. 353 
 Milton's Lines to his Father. 
 
 Coioper. 3 GO 
 Appeal for the Reform Bill. 
 
 Brougham. 361 
 Scene from the Rose of Arragon. 
 
 Knowles. 363 
 Speech on the Revenue Bill of 
 
 1833 Clay. 367 
 
 Memorials of Washington and 
 
 Franklin. . . J. Q. Adams. 370 
 Prince Henry's Challenge to Hot- 
 spur. . . . Shakspeare. 372. 
 Washington's Preparatory Train- 
 ing for Public Station. 
 
 C. W. Upham. 3Z5 
 Hotspur's Reply to Walter Blunt. 
 
 Shakspeare. 322 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The question has often been asked, doubtingly, 
 whether it is possible to teach the -art of reading, by the 
 use of rules. Any art which is grounded on recognised 
 principles, may, certainly, be taught by rules deduced 
 from these principles. Every teacher who corrects the 
 emphasis, the inflections, or the pauses, which his pupils 
 use in reading, must have, in every instance, a reason 
 for his correction. All such reasons are rules ; and 
 these it is the duty of the teacher to impart. These, 
 in fact, are themselves the instructions which he has 
 to give. 
 
 Every attentive teacher of reading, will endeavour 
 to put his pupils in possession of even those less pal- 
 pable principles which regulate the nicest modulations 
 of the voice, in the most delicate tones of feeling. But, 
 in the applications of inflection, emphasis, and pause, 
 which determine the meaning of every sentence of 
 audible language, a definite rule is indispensable to 
 intelligible or effective instruction. 
 
 The systematic practice of elocution, requires atten- 
 tion, in the first place, to the acquisition of correctness 
 of enunciation, volume and 'pliancy of voice, vigour of 
 organ, and purity of tone, on the scale of public read- 
 ing or speaking. 
 
 The functions of the voice, — in its operations as an 
 instrument, — having been properly regulated, the next 
 stage of instruction and practice, regards the execution 
 1* 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 of those sounds which constitute the l melody ' of 
 speech, in successive clauses and sentences, and deter 
 mine their character and meaning. 
 
 The act of enunciating syllables, or of pronouncing 
 words, may be performed without reference to their 
 signification. This forms the strictly elementary part 
 of elocution. The utterance of clauses and sentences, 
 implies a purpose in expression, and is founded on the 
 relations which language bears to thought. The ap- 
 propriate utterance of meaning, is the object in view 
 in this department of elocution ; and the attention of 
 the learner, in this stage, is directed to the notes of the 
 scale, to the relative degrees of force, and to the occa- 
 sional intermissions of voice, by which reading and 
 speaking are rendered significant. These subjects are 
 comprehended under the technical designations of In- 
 flections, Emphasis, and Pauses. 
 
 U we regard enunciation and pronunciation as the 
 mechanical part of elocution ; inflection, emphasis, and 
 pausing, may be designated as its intellectual part. 
 The former regards, chiefly, the ear, as cognizant of 
 audible expression ; the latter regards the understand- 
 ing, as addressed by intelligible utterance, and requir- 
 ing the exercise of judgment, in consecutive and 
 rational communication. This branch of the subject 
 extends, it is true, to some of the forms of tone which 
 give expression to feeling ; but its chief offices are 
 strictly intellectual. 
 
 A third department of elocution, embraces the con- 
 sideration of tone, as adapted to the utterance of pas- 
 sion, or the strongest forms of emotion, and is designated 
 by the technical name of Modulation. 
 
 Under this term are comprehended all those modifi- 
 cations of voice which are appropriate to empassioned 
 expression, and the changes of tone by which the 
 reader or speaker passes from one emotion to another. 
 This branch of the subject includes, in detail, what- 
 ever regards ' force ,' or intensity of voice, '■pitch,' 1 or 
 the predominating note of the scale, and ' movement^ 
 or the rate of utterance, as fast or slow. 
 
 Cadence, or the appropriate modulation of the voice, 
 at the close of a sentence^ would, at first sight, appeal 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 to be but a mechanical modification of voice, or, at 
 best, no more than a recommendation to the ear of re- 
 fined taste. But, on closer observation, it will be found 
 to constitute a main element of effect, in the expression 
 of sentiment. 
 
 It is the predominance or the frequent recurrence of 
 a peculiar cadence, which gives character to the melody 
 of emotion, in successive sentences ; and it is the ju- 
 dicious use of this turn of voice, which, most of all, 
 deepens the impression of the feeling that pervades a 
 composition, as a whole. The ' song ' of bad reading, 
 is principally caused by an erroneous cadence. 
 
 The modulation of the voice, in adaptation to differ' 
 ent species of metrical composition, is indispensable to 
 the appropriate or effective reading of verse. The 
 purest forms of poetry, become, when deprived of this 
 aid, nothing but awkward prose. A just and delicate 
 observance of the effect of metre, on the other hand, 
 is one of the surest means of imparting that inspira- 
 tion of feeling, which it is the design of poetry to pro- 
 duce. 
 
 The subject of Gesture has too generally been re- 
 garded as one on which no instruction can be given. 
 It is often mentioned as one of those secrets of nature, 
 which lie beyond rule or art ; and nothing, certainly, 
 can be more preposterous than artificial and mechani- 
 cal action, as an accompaniment to speech. But atten- 
 tive observation will here, as elsewhere, detect princi- 
 ples, and enable us to trace the rules which these 
 involve. 
 
 Pursued within the just limitations of judgment and 
 taste, gesture becomes, perhaps, one of the most im- 
 provable of human habits ; whether we regard the 
 eradication of error, or the acquisition of true and 
 appropriate action. The glow of earnest feeling, in 
 address, will always bring forth action. It is a thing 
 which, if we obey the instincts of nature, we cannot 
 repress. Action is, in fact, a component part of speech ; 
 and the teacher's business, and the student's endeavour, 
 in cultivation, are, properly, to trace those principles 
 which ' suit the action to the word/ and to embody 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 tnese in practical rules, and disciplined habits. With 
 a view to such results, a few brief remarks on obvious 
 errors, and a few plain directions for the formation of 
 manner, in attitude and action, are submitted in the 
 following pages. 
 
 At the request of teachers who wish to follow closely 
 the mode of elementary instruction, prescribed in Di\ 
 Rush's Philosophy of the Voice, a small volume has 
 been prepared, to be used as an introduction to the 
 American Elocutionist. 
 
 The work now referred to, is entitled a Manual of 
 Vocal Culture. It contains a course of preparatory 
 exercises for forming and training the voice, and invig- 
 orating the organs of speech. The modes of practice, 
 prescribed for these purposes, combine the preliminary 
 vocal discipline, recommended by Dr. Rush, the intro- 
 ductory methods, adopted in practical instruction, by 
 the author of the present volume, and, in addition to 
 these, the system of "orthophony" and vocal gymnas- 
 tics, taught by Mr. J. E. Murdoch. 
 
LESSONS IN ENUNCIATION 
 
 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 No branch of elementary education, is so generally 
 neglected as that of reading. It is not necessary, in 
 proof of this assertion, to appeal to the prevailing want 
 of appropriate elocution at the bar, or in the pulpit. 
 The worst defects in reading and speaking, are by no 
 means confined to professional life, and occasions which 
 call for eloquent address : they extend through all 
 classes of society, and are strikingly apparent in the 
 public exercises of colleges, the daily lessons of schools, 
 m private reading, and in common conversation. The 
 faults now alluded to, are all owing to the want of a 
 distinct and correct enunciation, which, whatevpr may 
 become of higher accomplishments, would .eem to be 
 alike indispensable to a proper cultivation of the human 
 faculties, and to the useful purposes of life. 
 
 It is unnecessary here to enlarge on the intellectual 
 injuries arising from the want of early discipline in this 
 department of education ; or to speak of the habits of 
 inattention and inaccuracy, which are thus cherished, 
 and by which the English language is degraded from 
 its native force and dignity of utterance, to a low and 
 slovenly negligence of style, by which it is rendered 
 unfit for the best offices of speech. 
 
10 ELOCUTiONIST, 
 
 ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. 
 
 The following exercises are intended to prevent, or to 
 correct, the prevalent errors of colloquial usage : they 
 embrace all the elementary sounds of the English lan- 
 guage, with the most important among those that occur 
 in combinations which are liable to mispronunciation. 
 A correct and careful articulation of them, if practised 
 with due frequency, and continued for a length of time 
 sufficient to render accuracy habitual, will secure a dis- 
 tinct and appropriate enunciation, in all exercises of 
 reading and speaking. To attain this result, the fol- 
 lowing points require particular attention. 
 
 1st. That the exercises be always performed with 
 great force and clearness of articulation, so as to be- 
 come a useful form of discipline to the organs. The 
 aim should be, in every case, to give the utmost artic- 
 ulate force of which the voice is capable. 
 
 2d. The sound of each element should be perfectly 
 at command, before proceeding to the enunciation of 
 the words in which they are exemplified. 
 
 3d. Great care must be taken to avoid a formal and 
 fastidious prominence of sound, on unaccented sylla- 
 bles : every word, though uttered with the utmost 
 energy, must retain the proportions of accented and un- 
 accented syllables in their natural and appropriate pro- 
 nunciation. 
 
 TABLE OF THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS OF THE ENGLISH 
 LANGUAGE. 
 
 [The elements contained in this table should be prac- 
 tised, with and without the words in which they are 
 exemplified, with great attention to accuracy, and re- 
 peated as a daily preliminary exercise.] 
 
 2. A, as in Far ; 
 
 VOWEL SOUNDS. 
 
 1. A, as in the word Fate 
 AL as in Ail ; 
 A Y } as in Lay. 
 
 A U, as in Launch. 
 A, as in Fall ; 
 A W, as in Awe : 
 AU : as in Laud 
 
ENUNCIATION. 
 
 n 
 
 4. .4, as in Fat. 
 
 5. A. as in Wash.* 
 
 6. A, as in Rare :* 
 
 A I as in Air: 
 A Y. as in Prayer. 
 
 7. E : as in Me ; 
 EE. as in Eel : 
 EA. as in Eat : 
 IE. as in Field. 
 
 S. E. as in Met : 
 EA. as in Head. 
 
 9. E. as in Err ;* 
 JEM, as in Heard : 
 /. as in Firm. 
 
 10. /. as in Pine ; 
 
 Y. as in Rhyme. 
 
 11. /. as in Pin ; 
 
 Y. as in Hymn. 
 
 12. O. as in No : 
 OA. as in Oak : 
 O U. as in Course 
 OW. as in Own. 
 
 13. O. as in Move : 
 00. as in Mood : 
 U, as in True. 
 
 14. O. as in Xor. 
 
 15. O. as in Not. 
 
 16. O. as in Done : 
 T. as m Tub. 
 
 17. V. as in Tube. 
 
 IS. r. as in Pull :f 
 O. as in Wolf. 
 
 DIPHTHONGS. 
 
 19. Of. as in Oil; 
 O Y. as in Boy. 
 
 20. O U. as in Pound ; 
 OW. as in Down. 
 
 CONSONANTS. 
 
 Labial Sounds, 
 
 21. E, as in Bulb. 
 
 22. P, as in Pulp. 
 
 23. 3/. as in Mime, 
 
 24. W. as in Wan.t 
 
 25. 1' as in Vane, 
 
 26. F. as in Fife: 
 PH. as in Phial; 
 GH. as in Laugh 
 
 Dental Sounds* 
 
 27. Z?. as in Dead. 
 2S. T, as in Tent 
 
 29. TH as in Thin. 
 
 30. TH as in Thine. 
 
 31. J. as in Joy ; 
 G\ as in Giant. 
 
 32. CH. as in Church. 
 
 33. SH as in Shape ; 
 TL as in Nation ; 
 CI. as in Gracious ; 
 CE. as in Ocean. 
 
 34. S. as in Hiss : 
 C. as in Cipher. 
 
 35. ♦S'. as in Trees ; 
 Z. as in Haze. 
 
 * See 'exercises.' on these sounds, pp. 15, 16, 17. Xo. 5 is, 
 properly, the same with Xo. 15. 
 
 + Xot properly a separate sound, but rather that of Xo. 13, short* 
 ened. 
 
 J Properly the same with Xo. 13, but shortened still more. 
 
12 
 
 ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 36. S, as in Measure. 
 Palatic Sounds. 
 
 37. if, as in Key ; 
 C, as in Cake ; 
 CH, as in Chorus 
 Q, as in Queen. 
 
 38. G, as in Gag. 
 
 39. Y r as in Ye. 
 
 Aspirate. 
 
 40. H, as in HaiL 
 
 Nasal Sounds. 
 
 41. N, as in No. 
 
 42. M7, as in Sing; 
 
 N } as in Finger, Sink. 
 
 Lingual Sounds. 
 
 43. £, as in Lull. 
 
 44. B, as in Rude.* 
 
 45. i2, as in War.* 
 
 Palatic and Dental Sowida, 
 combined. 
 
 46. X, as in Ox ;.f 
 
 47. X, as in Example, f 
 
 These sounds constitute all the elements of articula- 
 tion in the English language. The exercises which 
 follow, are merely various examples of these rudiments, 
 as they occur in different combinations. The exercises 
 are also designed for lessons in pronunciation; as this 
 branch, not less than that of articulation, is much neg- 
 lected in early instruction, and the practice of the one 
 conveniently comprises that of the other. 
 
 The main purpose of reading and speaking, is to 
 communicate thought. The most important point in 
 elocution, therefore, is a distinct and correct enuncia- 
 tion, without which it is impossible to be rightly and 
 clearly understood. The chief design, accordingly, of 
 this department of education, is, by appropriate exer- 
 cise, to cultivate the organs of speech, to strengthen and 
 discipline the voice, and, at the same time, to eradicate 
 incorrect habits of utterance, which may have been 
 contracted through early neglect. 
 
 Enunciation may, for the purposes of instruction, be 
 considered in connexion, 1st, with articulation, or the 
 management of the organs of speech ; 2dly, with pro- 
 nunciation, or the sounds of the voice, regarded as 
 modified by usage, or custom, in the language which is 
 spoken. 
 
 * See l exercises,' on the letter K. p. VS. 
 
 f Properly combinations formed by the union of Nos. 37 and 34, 
 and of Nos.' 38 and 35. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 13 
 
 EXERCISES, EMBRACING THE ELEMENTS OF ARTICULA- 
 TION AND THE RULES OF PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 The following exercises are chiefly a transcript from 
 Angus's compendof Fulton's system of Orthoepy, and 
 Smart's Practice of Elocution. The words in the 
 tables should be read with great force and distinctness : 
 they may thus be made a useful organic exercise, for 
 imparting strength and pliancy of voice, as well as 
 energy and clearness of articulation ; they may serve 
 also for mechanical discipline on inflections, if read in 
 successive portions as marked in a few instances. The 
 grave accent, or falling inflection, ( N ) denotes the down- 
 ward slide of voice, as heard at a period; the acute 
 accent, or rising inflection, (') denotes the upward slide, 
 usually heard at a comma. ■ The application of these 
 inflections, is not necessary to practice in articulation y 
 and, if found embarrassing, may be omitted. The early 
 acquisition of them, however, will save much time in 
 future lessons; and since the words in these exercises 
 must all be articulated with one inflection or other, the 
 inflection actually used, may as well be regular as 
 arbitrary. The punctuation of the examples, is intended 
 to aid the application of inflections. 
 
 SOUNDS OF THE VOWELS. 
 
 A, as in the word Fate : Ai, as in Ail: Ay, as in Lay. 
 
 The sound of a, mentioned above, is marked by 
 Walker, as the ' first ' sound of this letter : it might be 
 conveniently designated as the long name sound, from 
 its quantity or length, and the circumstance of its form- 
 ing the alphabetical name of the letter. 
 
 This vowel is not what it would, at first sight, ap- 
 pear to be, — a perfectly simple sound : it consists, in 
 reality, of two sounds, — that which, in common pronun- 
 ciation, commences the name of the letter, (a) and that 
 which, in a prolonged utterance, is heard at its close, 
 and which approaches to the name sound of the vowel 
 e. A clear and just articulation of the name sound of 
 a, has regard to this complexity of its nature, and 
 closes with a very slight and delicate approach to the 
 sound of e, so slight as to be barely perceptible to a 
 2 
 
14 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 very close observation. A common fault, in very bad 
 taste, is to give this complex sound in a manner too 
 analytical, — in the worst style of theatrical singing; 
 thus, Faieel, fa teeth ; for fail, faith. 
 
 A4e ace age, aim day bail, dale fail say, pave tape 
 hail, haze may gaze, late maid nay, vail make fame, 
 tail pay lade, jade gay sail, fate faith daily, fade make 
 gate, take mail sale. 
 
 A, as in Far : Au, as in Launch. 
 
 Marked as the 'second' sound of a, in Walker's 
 notation. 
 
 There are two extremes of sound, occasionally heard, 
 which must be avoided in the pronunciation of the fol- 
 lowing words, — that of a too broad, and nearly like a 
 in all; thus Fawrm, farther, sm«?^rt, &c., for farm, 
 father, smart ; and a too short, resembling the sound 
 of a in mat, thus : Farm for farm, &c. 
 
 A v rm ah ha harm, bar car far par, tar aunt daunt 
 gaunt, haunt jaunt taunt father, saunter gauntlet barb 
 hark, mar garb harp dart, cart park marl snarl, barn 
 arch harsh balm, palm calf charge charm, psalm farm 
 alarm becalm. 
 
 Same sound unaccented : Harmonious carnation 
 incarnation singular popular regularly. 
 
 A, as in Fall : Aw, as in Awe : Au, as in Laud. 
 
 The 'third' sound of a, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The error to be avoided in the following class of 
 sounds, is that of making a to resemble o ; thus, oil 
 for all. Sometimes this error is so broad and coarse as 
 to divide the sound into two parts ; the first of which 
 is the above o, and the second the u in up : 6ii\\, foiiW, 
 for all, fall. These faults should be carefully avoided, 
 as slovenly and vulgar. 
 
 Ail hall ball call fall, gall pall tall wall ward, warm 
 wharf quart thwart false, warn walk chalk qualm 
 
ENUNCIATION. 15 
 
 halt, war warrior haw daw maw, jaw saw law raw 
 draw, straw brawl drawl dawn lawn, awning yawn 
 daub fraud gauze, vault vaunt fault aught taught, 
 fraught sauce daughter halter lawful. 
 
 A, as in Fat. 
 
 The ' fourth ' sound, in Walker's notation. 
 
 There are two extremes of error to be avoided in 
 the following words, — that of a too Jlat, and divided 
 into two sounds ; thus, mayun, for man, — and that of a 
 loo broad; thus, pawss^ for pass. 
 
 Bat cat hat mat pat sat, rat vat blab sack lad staff, 
 had mall tan dram scrap pass, have has glass class 
 mass grass, asp grasp clasp vast past fast, last mast 
 ash hash sash mash, waft raft graft grant craft shaft, 
 slant gland latch dance lance glance, trance France 
 chant branch crash slant, man can gather rather alas 
 advance. 
 
 Same sound unaccented : Abode abound fabate abash 
 America Cuba, cabal caparison calamity traduce dia- 
 dem calumniate. 
 
 A, as in Wash. 
 
 Not separately marked by Walker, but given as the 
 same with the fourth sound of o. 
 
 The common errors in the articulation of this sound, 
 are that of making it resemble the sound of o in no ; 
 thus, whote, or rather wot, for what, — and that of 
 making the a resemble that of the word fat ; thus, 
 whatt for what. 
 
 Wad squad swab, J wan was wasp, want wast swash, 
 
 f The letter liable to error in pronunciation, is marked by italic 
 type, when the word contains more than one of the same name. 
 
 J The practice on inflection is now varied tolhe commencing 
 series ; the voice sliding upward at the terminating word of each 
 clause, in the mariner of incomplete expression, suspended or in- 
 terrupted sense. The application of these inflections, however, is 
 
16 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 quash quantity quality, squall squat swan, squash 
 waspish qualify, what wash wand. 
 
 A, Ai, and Ay, before R final, or R, followed by a 
 vowel. 
 
 The errors commonly made in the following class of 
 sounds, are (1st,) giving a too broad a sound, or the 
 'fourth' sound, instead of one nearly resembling the 
 'first' sound ; thus aer, (a, as in at, nearly,) for air, — 
 and (2d,) giving the long name sound too exactly, or 
 too fiat; thus, aer, (a, as in ale,) for air. 
 
 The true sound of a, ai, or ay, situated as mentioned 
 above, avoids these extremes ; — the former, as coarse 
 and vulgar ; the latter, as too precise and studied. The 
 true sound approaches nearer to the latter than to the 
 former. It cannot be expressed to the eye, and can 
 only be generally described as the ' first ' sound of a 
 rendered a little obscure, by deviating very slightly 
 towards the ' fourth. ' 
 
 Bare care dare fare, mare pare tare ware, yare air 
 fair lair, hair rare layer prayer, parent apparent repair 
 stare, snare spare careful careless, rarely beware en- 
 snare prepare, compare pair stair daring. 
 
 E, as in Me : Ee, as in Eel : Ea, as in Eat i Ie, as 
 hi Field: or the 'first' sound of e, in Walker's no- 
 tation. 
 
 The errors in the articulation of this sound, arise, 
 chiefly, from not observing the nature of the consonant 
 which follows it, and consequently making it too long 
 or too short. E, as a final sound, or occurring before 
 a liquid, is long, as in Bee, eel, seem, seen; and, before 
 a palatic letter or consonant, it is short, as in Week, 
 seek, sleet. 
 
 Bee fee theme mete feel, supreme seem team fea- 
 ture plea, yield wield weep seen queen, beef weed 
 
 not strictly necessary, and may, as mentioned before, be omitted, 
 if found difficult and embarrassing. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 17 
 
 sleet cheek repeat, fief shriek fiend wheel wheat, liege 
 priest grieve year fear, rear dream glean weave heath, 
 each heave least greet veer. 
 
 Same sound unaccented: Debate estate esteem es- 
 tablish beware, reduce seclude epitome apostrophe 
 committee. 
 
 E, as hi Met : Ea, as in Head. 
 
 Or the ' second ' sound of e, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The error to be avoided in this class of sounds, is 
 that of allowing e to become somewhat like a in fate ; 
 or thus, Baid, aig ; for bed, egg ; stade for stead. 
 
 E v ll elk elm else hence fence, let get yet yest 
 yesterday kept, felled abed measure pleasure felt set, 
 less rest guest bread ready steady, peg bell beg ten den 
 red, generous genuine general guess protest effect, col- 
 lect preface prelude preiate prelacy prebend, knell tell 
 fell tent thence propel. 
 
 Same sound unaccented: Recreation relaxation 
 reputation testimonial rectangular extracting, theo- 
 rem nutshell outlet onset blackness efface. 
 
 E f as in Err : Ear, as in Heard : Ir, as in Firm. 
 Marked in the orthoepy of Walker, as the ' second ' 
 sound of e, bflt explained as not being precisely that 
 sound, nor yet that of u in turn, as it is very common- 
 ly but erroneously pronounced. The true sound of e 
 before r followed by a consonant, is thus described in 
 Smart's Practice of Elocution. " Er and ir are pro- 
 nounced by unpolished speakers just like ur, as indeed, 
 in some common words, such as her sir, &c. they are 
 pronounced, even by the most cultivated : but in words 
 of less common occurrence, there is a medium between 
 ur and air, which elegant usage has established, as 
 the just utterance of e and i joined to the smooth r. 1 '* 
 
 * The Practice of Elocution, &c. by D. H. Smart, London, 
 1826, Svo. 
 
 2* 
 
*.8 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 There are two errors to be avoided in practising the 
 following words, — 1st, that of making no discrimina- 
 tion between er followed by a consonant and er follow- 
 ed by a vowel, which leads to the fault of pronouncing 
 the word m.ercy with the same sound of e as the word 
 merit, — a fault which characterises the pronunciation 
 of foreigners who are learning to speak the English 
 language, and who are guided by analogy, instead of 
 custom, in this point. This sound should be carefully 
 avoided, as not belonging to English enunciation, 01 
 as being too analytical and pedantic. At the same time, 
 the second error, that of substituting the sound of u ir 
 turn for that of e, should be avoided as a careless vul 
 garism. ' . 
 
 Herd earn, term germ, earth stern, earl fern, lean 
 eternal, person mercy, servant firmly, confirm internal 
 service fervor, virginal virtue, verdure personate, fii 
 whirl, perfect discern, concern aspersion, disperse uni 
 versal infirmity defer, prefer terse, pearl erst, mirth 
 girt, girl sermon. 
 
 Same sound unaccented: Certificate termination 
 vermicular perpendicular, postern goatherd. 
 
 [The following words may be used as aids of con- 
 trast, to illustrate one of the sounds which should be 
 avoided in the above class of words, — Merit very merry 
 error terror ; and the following to illustrate the other 
 incorrect sound, which is also to be avoided, Bird first 
 her sir.] 
 
 I, as in Pine : Y", as in Rhyme. 
 
 The 'first' sound of i, in Walker's notation. 
 
 There are two extremes to be avoided in the enun- 
 ciation of this vowel,- — the coarse error of giving it a 
 broad and drawling sound, dwelling on the first part 
 of the letter, and thus making it resemble the' a of fall; 
 the too nice*or flat sound, which commences with near- 
 ly the sound of a in ale, — the result of avoiding too 
 anxiously the errors just mentioned. 
 
 The true sound of long i Walker represents as com- 
 
ENUNCIATION. 19 
 
 mencing with the sound of a in father, (properly a in 
 at.) and diminishing to that of long e. These two 
 sounds mast he exactly proportioned, and nicely blended. 
 
 I'sle time, mile vile, vine dine, life my, knife sign, 
 mine try, light child, bind thyme, smite right, wild ice, 
 slice tide, glide chyle, bile mind, find repine, consign 
 resign, beguile smile, pile might, delight fire, desire 
 concise, style chyme, lyre dryad. 
 
 Same sound unaccented : Diagonal biennial, diaeresis 
 tiara, triennial diameter, infantile camomile, gentile 
 pantomime. 
 
 /, as in Pin : Y, as in Hymn. 
 
 The ' second ' sound of i, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The error commonly made in this sound, is that of 
 obscuring it by careless articulation, so that it is made 
 "to resemble in some degree the sound of a in fate, or of 
 ai in fail ; thus, Tain for tin, faish for fish* 
 
 The true sound of i short, is very nearly, though not 
 exactly, that of e in me, much shortened. 
 
 Sin hill prim, pit wish fill, dim din skin, whim fit 
 will, till sill since, prince wince quince, rinse wit sit, 
 lit win bid, rid mince rill, till rip whip, sip skip tip, fib 
 rib still, mystical symptom sympathy, mystery hypo- 
 crite cynosure. 
 
 Same sound unaccented: Historical histrionic mi- 
 nutely, vivacity discreet disparity, bedrid outfit saw- 
 mill. 
 
 O, as in No : Oa, as in Oak : Ou, as in Course : Ow, 
 , as in Own. 
 The ' first ' sound of o, in Walker's notation. 
 The errors in the sound of this letter, are, substituting 
 
 * It is impossible to- reduce this error to an exact spelling ; and 
 the above attempt to represent it, is unavoidably a caricature 
 rather than a copy. A true idea of the error intended may, how- 
 ever, be formed, by due allowance, from the notation used above. 
 
20 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 for it the o of nor; as in Force for force; sorce for 
 source, &c. shortening this sound of its proper length, 
 as in horn for home, whol for whole, &c. 
 
 This is properly the longest vowel in our language, 
 and should receive great length of sound. 
 
 x Oh ho old home, bone cone tone stone, hope hold 
 note coat, coach source sword recourse, perforce oats 
 oaten boat, doat moat rote towards, sloth scroll troll 
 drollery, ford forge bronze hoarse, port fort sport torn, 
 disown sown cloak soak, soul toll sofa soda, shoulder 
 soldier sole wholly, solely wholesome wholesale votary. 
 
 The same sound unaccented : Opinion donation do- 
 mestic molest, protect proceed intonation desolate, 
 melody custody eloquence innocence. 
 
 O, as in Move : Oo, as in Mood : U, as in True. 
 
 The ' second ' sound of o, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The errors which commonly occur in this sound, 
 arise from a want of discrimination in the length of 
 the sound, as affected by the consonant which follows 
 it. Dental letters, following this sound of o, shorten it, 
 and liquids, following it, give it length. An error in 
 the sound of ru takes place in some words, thus xyuin 
 for n/in ; the ' first' sound of u being given, instead of 
 the ' third,' or that of oo in mood. 
 
 Prove mood rule lose tool, boom moon rood behoove 
 true, broom remove fruit group bosom, boom woo druid 
 swoon groove, imbrue canoe gamboge gloom smooth, 
 brutal cool doom pool poor, moor boor who tomb cais« 
 son, rude rural truant fruitless prudent. 
 
 O, as in Nor. 
 
 The ' third sound ' of o, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The error to be avoided in this sound, is that of 
 making it nearly the same with the o of the word wo, 
 or dividing the sound into two parts, of which the first 
 
ENUNCIATION. 21 
 
 is the o of no, and the second that of u in up, or of a 
 in at ; thus, noar for nor. 
 
 "Or orb cord sort short storm, form horn scorn corn 
 thorn cork, fork north torch horse lord resort, remorse 
 unhorse retort contortion distorted mortal, morsel mort- 
 gage mortar torture forfeit formal, fortune sort torment 
 coral born forlorn. 
 
 The same sound unaccented: Forbear tormenting 
 formality mortality sortie formation ornamental. 
 
 O, as in Not. 
 
 The " fourth' sound of o, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The common error in the formation of this sound, is, 
 as in the above examples, the substituting of o in no, 
 or of a double sound formed by o in no, and u in up, or 
 a in at ; thus Lost or loast for lost. This sound should 
 be carefully avoided, in this and the above classes of 
 examples, as a striking mark of vulgarity or care- 
 lessness. There is also the opposite error of making 
 the ' fourth ' sound of o nearly like the ' fourth ' sound 
 of a ; thus. Gat, clack, &c. for got, clock, &a 
 
 Odd rob mob.^ dog log bog, not rot dot. loss boss 
 toss, cross Boston sob, prop fog croft, loft soft clod, doff 
 costly god, goddess nod lofty, glossy dross fossil, foster 
 nostage softness. 
 
 The same sound unaccented : Obtain occur commend, 
 documentary prostration population, mammoth tre- 
 mor algor. 
 
 O, as in Done. 
 
 The same with the second sound of u, or that of u 
 in tub, up, &c. 
 
 The fault, in the formation of this sound, is the sub- 
 stituting for it the o of smoke, that of nor, or that of 
 not. 
 
 * The inflections may now be supplied by the voice of the reader. 
 
22 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Come comrade combat none, nothing love comely 
 word, world worm wont, scourge, none such worship 
 comfit colander, colonel bombard (noun) bombast (w.) 
 compass, demon sovereign wonted sovereignty. 
 
 U, as in Tube, mate, fyc. : Eu, as in Eulogy : Ew, 
 as in Ewe : Ui, as in Suit : lew, as in View ; and 
 Eaa, as in Beauty. 
 
 The ' first' sound of?/, in Walker's notation. 
 
 The errors common in this sound, are the substituting 
 for it that of u in full or o in move ; thus, toon for t?me, 
 and commencing the sound of u with that of a, instead 
 of e ; thus, tayoon for t?/ne. 
 
 Use cure lure tune dupe, fume useful human humour 
 feud, hew few dew pew mew, new due cue sue blue, 
 lubricate tumid cubic stupid constitution, institution 
 revolution student studious duke, ducal superable su- 
 preme superior conclude, resume consume renew review 
 beautiful, beauteous lucid luminary stupor fluid, im- 
 portune opportunity mutual plural lurid, during dura- 
 tion dewy lunar lunatic, lunacy endure assume astute 
 confute. 
 
 The same sound unaccented: Lucubration educate 
 articulate stipulate stimulate, singularly regular con- 
 fluence calculate emulate, feature nature fortune. 
 
 U, as in Tub. 
 
 The 'second' sound of u, in Walker's notation. 
 
 There is sometimes an error heard in this sound, 
 which makes it seem to resemble o in on; thus, onder 
 for wilder; and another, which cannot be represented 
 to the eye, but which gives this vowel a sound which 
 is guttural, (formed too deep in the throat,) and with 
 too wide an opening of the organs. This sound ap- 
 proaches, though very slightly, to the o of on: it 
 should be carefully avoided, as uncouth and vulgar. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 23 
 
 Up under tun run gun dub, cud rub dug tug mug 
 sup, duck cluck church such clutch much, shrub glut 
 strut nut nun hum, buzz purr cut puff gruff muff, dull 
 mull cull clung gulf gulp, tuft trust tusk musk hurl 
 skulk, skull unfurl churl custard bulge husky. 
 
 The same sound unaccented : Uptake undo unseal 
 sackbut conduct log-hut. 
 
 U, as in Bull, full, &c. : O, as in Wolf, took, &c. 
 
 The ' third ' sound of u, in Walker's notation. 
 
 An error sometimes heard in this sound, is that of 
 )bscuring it, by hastening over it, and dwelling too 
 much on the consonant which follows it. This error 
 cannot be exactly represented : it can only be generally 
 described as impairing the true and clear sound of the 
 letter. 
 
 Pull bush, push puss, put bull-dog, fuller wolfish, 
 foot wood, would could, should pulley, pulpit cushion, 
 cuckoo woman, sugar woollen, withstood wool, hood 
 stood good. 
 
 SOUNDS OF DIPHTHONGS. 
 
 Oi and Oy, as in Oil and Boy. 
 
 The common errors in this sound, arise from a want 
 of attention to the true sound of the initial letter of the 
 diphthong, which is the o of not, and not that of no. 
 Hence the faulty -sound of oil, boy, for oil, boy. A 
 worse error, though less frequent, is that of pronoun- 
 cing this diphthong like the letter i ; thus, He for oil. 
 
 Boil coil foil, toil soil coy, toy joy hoy, rejoice broil 
 spoil, void doit coin, loin joint hoist, moist joist voice, 
 oily joyful coinage, poise noise employ, embroil appoint 
 avoid, alloy recoil turmoil. 
 
 0?/ 7 as in Pound : Oiv, as in Down. 
 The neglect of the initial letter of the diphthong, i.i 
 
24 
 
 ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 also the cause of the common error in this sound, which 
 consists in substituting the sound of a in far, or that 
 of o in orb, for that of o in done, and prolonging unduly 
 the first sound of the diphthong, causing a broad and 
 drawling sound ; thus, Pawmd, tm/;n, for pownd, town. 
 The local error of New England, substitutes for the 
 initial sound of this diphthong, that of a in at, or of e 
 in met ; thus, Paund, tawn, for pound, town. 
 
 How vow now thou, loud cloud cow gown, count 
 house town clown, scowl fowl mouth out, our ground 
 found sound, round souse mouse bounce, rebound re- 
 sound astound confound, coward cowering lowering 
 scouring, account recount surmount boundary, pound- 
 age hourly cowl growling. 
 
 CONSONANT SOUNDS. 
 
 These may be conveniently arranged according to 
 the organs with which they are articulated. 
 
 Labial Letters. 
 
 Mute labials, B, P ; aspirated labials, F, PH, GH } 
 as in Laugh, V; liquid labial, M ; vocal labial, W. 
 
 The common defect in the articulation of these 
 sounds, is a want of force in the compression and open- 
 ing of the lips. ,, 
 
 In practising the following words, the utmost force 
 and clearness of sound, should be given to the labiai 
 letters. 
 
 B, — Bay bad bar ball bee, bet bile bit bore bog, boon 
 bush bust by blab, swab babe barb glebe web, imbibe 
 bib globe rob bull, babbler bubbling double trouble un- 
 blamed, unblameable peaceably abominable hubbub 
 bulbous. 
 
 P,- -Pay pad par pall peat pet, pile pit pore pod 
 poor push, pus pie ape pope pap harp, creep step pipe 
 pip grope pop, pulp topple supple grappling uncropped 
 palpably. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 25 
 
 F, PH, GH— Fay fat, far fall, fie fee, fed file, fin 
 fore, foss fool, fuss safe, staff wharf, fife thief, whiff 
 oaf, off hoof, huff laugh, caliph baffle, offing sulphur, 
 laugh'dst fifer, chaffering quaffed, triumph draught. 
 
 V, — Yane van vaunt, vie veer velvet, vile vogue 
 volley, cave cove sleeve, helve dive live, grove love 
 of, valve vivify revive, surviving valvular reviv'dst. 
 
 M, — May mat mark malt, mien men mile mist, moan 
 mop moon must, my aim ham harm, qualm seem hem 
 mime, hymn home doom come, lime maim mammal 
 mummy, roaming commencement monument humbly, 
 murmurs maimed humm'st humm'dst. 
 
 W, — Wane wail way wag war, wall wad we wine, 
 win wo wot won beware, away bewail unwed un- 
 washed. 
 
 Dental Letters. 
 
 Mute, D, T ; — Lisping, TH, as in Thin; TH, as in 
 Thine; — Aspirated, J, G soft ; CH, as in Church; — SH 
 sharp, as in Shape ; TI, as in Nation ; CI, as in Gra- 
 cious; CE, as in Ocean ; — SHflat, or SI, SU, &c., as in 
 Occasion, Division, Leisure; — Sibilant, or hissing, $ 
 sharp and C soft, as in Sauce; — S flat, as in Was ; Z, 
 as in Haze. 
 
 D, — Day daw dart dash die din, deem den dome 
 don dub duke, laid awed hard mad lied lid, feed fed 
 mowed rod cud denude, deduce deduct added addled 
 oddly wedded, called adds dubb'dst doubled dared 
 dastard. 
 
 T, — Tame tar, tall tap, teeth tent, tithe twit, titter 
 tome, top too, tutor tut, tight taught, tete-a-tete tart, 
 tat cat, hot coat, total foot, destitute stutter, lightest 
 tighten'dst, triturate capitulate, tittered hurt'st. 
 
 TH sharp, — Thane thank thaw, theory thigh thin, 
 thorn threw throw, thrust thirsty scath, breath thrust- 
 3 
 
26 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 eth north, youth growth worth, truths swath youths, 
 hearths oath cloths. 
 
 TH flat, — They that thy though, thee then there- 
 fore swathe, paths seethe sithe blithe, tithe baths 
 beneath oaths, thither underneath bathes swathes. 
 
 J and G soft, — Jay genius gentle jam jar, jet jeer 
 gesture jilt jimp, giant gibbet jolt jostle just, gymnic 
 gyve gypsy joy age, liege edge budge judge judgedst. 
 
 CH soft, — Chair chat charm chalk check chine, chin 
 churn chirp hatch march watch, each switch scorch 
 birchen satchel beechen, twitching touchedst. 
 
 SH sharp, TI, CI, &c. — Shame shad, shark shawl, 
 sheen shed, shine shin, show shot, shoe shrub, shroud 
 shrink, shrive shrivel, shrine sash, marsh swash, mesh 
 wish, brush push, splashing marshy, ration completion, 
 discretion contrition, promotion revolution, disputa- 
 tious — [ce and ci sounding sh :] herbaceous, ocean con- 
 tumacious, specious delicious — [ci sounding she:] enun- 
 ciation pronunciation, association partiality. 
 
 SH flat, — Derision abrasion adhesion, explosion con- 
 fusion roseate, azure osier vision, leisure seizure treas- 
 ure, pleasure occasion collision. 
 
 5 sharp, and C soft, — Say sad salt saunter, see cease 
 set slice, sister cistern cider soak, sod source sorcery 
 sue, suds system ace pass, salts farce fleece suppress, 
 ice assistance police miss, twice jocose toss juice, sluice 
 fuss distress mists, hosts listenest listlessly interstice, 
 solstice sayest assassin assassinates, assassinatest as- 
 sassinated st sustainest designest, presidest desistedst 
 rests seducest. 
 
 6 flat, Z, — Phases houses fantasm buzzes gales, 
 homes dives zany breezes zebra, maze was has prizes 
 dissolves, observes hussars dismays huzzas dismem- 
 bers, disarms disburdens husbands philosophical dis- 
 ease, bedizens roses daisies venison horizon. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 27 
 
 Palatic Letters. 
 
 K, as in Key : C hard, as in Cue : Ch, as in Cho- 
 rus : Q, as in Queen : Kail cane quaint keel queer key, 
 quid cone quote cup cube cake, squeak elk pike kick 
 sick attack, quack quake crowd crust clay cloy, dirk 
 work bulk skulk crack cracked, cracks crackst 
 crack'dst crackling choral archives, architecture arch- 
 angel quicker. 
 
 G hard, as in Gag: Gay gave, gap guard, gall 
 ghost, green go, gone gulp, plague hag, bog jug, egg 
 gargle, giggle gurgle, ogle glimpse, gray gross. 
 
 Semi-palatic Letter ', or initial Y, as in Ye. 
 Yare yest yon, young yonder your, you youth yawl. 
 
 Aspirated or Breathing Letter. 
 H, as in Hail: Hay hat harm hall, heel head high 
 hit, home hot horse hoot, hue hut hyphen behave, 
 behest hence when why, Who where wheat what, 
 wherefore whirl whence vehement, annihilate human 
 behemoth vehicle. 
 
 Nasal Letters. 
 
 A r , as in No : Nay nap gnarl knee net, nice nib note 
 not new, fain can barn keen ken, line sin own on hewn, 
 grain noise now noun winnow. 
 
 NG, as in Singing; iV, as in Finger: N, as in 
 Think; N, as in Concave; N, as in Conquest. 
 
 Gang king sprung length strength bank, sink being 
 nothing writing hanging bringing, robbing singing 
 conquer prolong concourse concubine, extinct distinc- 
 tion thank banquet sunk ink, thinks thinkest crank 
 angle English congress, anger congregate anguish 
 extinguish unguent languid. 
 
28 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Lingual Letters. 
 
 L, as in Lull : Lay lee, lie lo, loo law, lad lark, loll 
 hale, all call, well weal, will wool, hull lowly, lily 
 lullaby. 
 
 R initial, or before a voioel* as in Rude. Ray rat, 
 raw wry, pray brass, crape green, trait shrug, throw 
 root, rust rural, around enrich, rebel Roman, roll rot, 
 flowery contrary, library rest, rhinoceros roaring, rear- 
 ing rushest, torrent dreary, briery priory, cruel truly, 
 protrude. 
 
 R final, or before a consonant, as in Air, far, farm.-f 
 Hare are ore, ire our ear, harm form burn, eternal fern 
 dark, farm marl furl, hurl whirl her, formal borne born, 
 murmur far former, horn torpor stork, fork ford hoard, 
 lord force horse, ark dart barter, herd learn arm, pearl 
 world servant, border merchant adore, demure expire 
 appear. 
 
 Exercise combining both Rs. Rarely rear roar error, 
 horror roared reared warrior, terror regular irregular 
 brier, prior truer. 
 
 These words should be articulated with great pre- 
 cision and energy, and the distinction of sound, in the 
 two Rs, carefully observed. 
 
 Note. — The common errors in the sounds of this letter, 
 are the substitution of the hard for the softr; thus, 
 warr for war; the entire omission of the letter, as in 
 wawm, for warm, the protrusion of the hard sound after 
 a consonant ; thus, derread for dread. Nothing is more 
 
 * Articulated by a forcible trill of the tongue against the upper 
 tpim, forming a harsh sound, which may be denominated ' hard ' R. 
 Note. — This sound should never be prolonged into a ' roll? 
 
 f In the formation of this sound, which is much softer, the tongue 
 bends inward in the mouth, and the vibration is very slight. This 
 sound may be distinguished as ' soft ' R. 
 
 The pupil should be trained, first, to give the perfect sound of 
 the hard R, then that of the soft, then to articulate the two sounds, 
 alternately, in rapid succession. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 29 
 
 characteristic of true and graceful articulation, than 
 the clear and appropriate sound of this letter. 
 
 Palatic and Sibilant Letter. 
 
 X, as in Vex: Axe sex ox expel exile, six oxen 
 Saxon waxedst sexton, axle excel fixture extract 
 exhortation exorcise expect. 
 
 X, as in Examine : Example exemplary exact aux- 
 iliary exalt exhort, exhaust exhaustion exhale exhibit 
 exordium. 
 
 ERRORS IN ARTICULATION. 
 
 The common hinderances to distinct enunciation 
 may, as far as articulation is concerned, be classed as 
 follows : 
 
 1st. Feebleness, arising from a want of full and for- 
 cible emission of voice, and of due energy in the action 
 of the organs, — particularly the tongue, the teeth, and 
 the lips. 
 
 2d. Omission, a fault occasioned by undue rapidity 
 or hurry, and sometimes by an inadvertent compliance 
 with incorrect custom. 
 
 3d. Obscurity, caused by the want of precision and 
 accuracy in the functions of the organs, and a conse- 
 quent want of defmiteness or correctness in the sounds 
 of letters and syllables. 
 
 The rule of practice, therefore, in regard to the 
 exercises of reading and speaking, should be, Always 
 to articulate with such energy, deliberateness, and accu- 
 racy, that every sound of the voice may be fully and 
 exactly formed, distinctly heard, and perfectly under- 
 stood. A drawling slowness, however, and a pedantic 
 or irregular prominence of unaccented syllables, should 
 be carefully avoided. Faults arising from slovenli- 
 ness, and those which seem to spring from misdirected 
 study, are equally objectionable. 
 
30 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Errors in articulation may be conveniently classed 
 according to the manner in which they affect the pro- 
 nunciation of words and syllables. 
 
 1st. Those which consist in omitting or obscuring 
 words. Among these- are the following : 
 
 In the pronunciation of the conjunction and, cut- 
 ting off the final letter d, and obscuring or omitting 
 the initial letter a. These errors take place frequently, 
 and in various circumstances, but particularly when 
 and occurs before a word beginning with a vowel. 
 Thus the word and, in the phrase 'tiir and exercise,' 
 is not unfrequently pronounced in one of these three 
 ways: 'air an' exercise,' — 'air un exercise,' — 'air 'n' 
 exercise.' 
 
 The phrase ' of the ' is also clipped of several letters, 
 so as to be reduced, in some instances, to the bare sound 
 of th. The following clause exemplifies the various 
 degrees of this fault : ' The heat of the air was op- 
 pressive ' — ' the heat o' the air,' &c. — ' the heat o' th' 
 air,' &c. — ' the heat th' air,' &c. 
 
 The * preposition to is carelessly uttered as if with 
 the sound of o in done, or of u in but, instead of that 
 of o in move, shortened; thus, 'He went tu see the 
 monument' — for ' to see,' &c. 
 
 2d. Errors in the articulation of initial syllables, by 
 omitting or obscuring the sounds of letters. The errors 
 of omission are, chiefly, such as the following: [The 
 letter which is apt to be omitted, is italicised.] 
 
 * Belief believe benevolence benevolent delicious 
 delight delightful delineate deliver denominate de- 
 nominator calamity calamitous deny denial deliberate 
 
 # T'hese and all following classes of words which exemplify 
 e:T "* or rules, are intended to he read aloud, aitti gtvtu uisnnct 
 f / znd to be often repeated. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 31 
 
 denote denounce polite political, /mman * when wheat 
 why where wha.t wAirl w/iimper whale wAarf wheel 
 wAich wAisper white. 
 
 The errors of careless articulation and obscure sound 
 in initial syllables, are chiefly exemplified in the letters 
 e and o, which are incorrectly sounded like e in her and 
 like o in come. The true sound of e and o in such 
 syllables is that which is heard in the first syllable of 
 the words rewrite, domain, costume. 
 
 Before behind behold beware event prepare precede. 
 
 O, as in Domain — Colossal, (incorrectly pronounced 
 cullossid, &c.) Columbus proceed producing opinion 
 domestic obey tobacco promote pronounce propose pro- 
 vide provoke position horizon. 
 
 O, as in Costume — Collect, (incorrectly pronounced 
 culled, &c.) collision command commemorate commence 
 commit commission committee commodious communi- 
 cate compactly companion compare competitor com- 
 plete comply compose component comprise compress 
 compute conceal concede conceit concern concession 
 conclude concur condemn conduce condense condition 
 conductor confederate confine confirm confute congeal 
 conjecture connect consent consider consign console 
 constrain construct consume consult contain content 
 contemplate contend contribute control converge convey 
 convince convulse correct correctly correctness corrupt 
 corrode corroborate. 
 
 3d. The errors of articulation in middle syllables, are 
 chiefly those which arise from the omission or obscur- 
 ing of e, o, or v, unaccented, and the letter r before a 
 liquid. These letters, although they should never be 
 
 * In words commencing- with wh, the letters must be transposed 
 in pronouncing; thus, Hwen, /ueeat, hwj, &c. Except who and its 
 compounds, with a few other words, in which the sound ot w ia 
 dropped ; as, Whoever, whole, whoop. 
 
32 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 rendered prominent, ought always to possess their true 
 sound, according to the nature of the combination of 
 letters in which they occur. 
 
 The faulty omission of e, takes place as follows : 
 Several every severing tottering murderer fluttering 
 utterance traveller gravelly deliverer deliberate despe- 
 rate — pronounced erroneously sev'ral ev'ry, &c. 
 
 The omission of o: Corroborate history rhetoric 
 melancholy memorable memory desolate — pronounced 
 incorrectly corrob'rate hist'ry, &c. 
 
 The omission of the letter u: Articulate perpen- 
 dic?/lar accuracy mascwline regular — mispronounced 
 artic'late, &c. 
 
 The obscuring of the letter o, or changing its sound 
 from that of o in domain to that of o in done : Com- 
 position compromise disposition melody custody colony 
 eloquence advocate absolute opposite obsolete crocodile 
 philosophy philology zoology — pronounced incorrectly 
 composition meludy eluquence, &c. 
 
 The obscuring of the letter e, or giving the sound 
 of e in her, for that of e in rewrite : Society sobriety 
 variety contrariety satiety — erroneously pronounced 
 sociuty, or as if divided thus : societ-y, &c. 
 
 The omission of the letter r: Alarming disarming, 
 returning discerning confirming worldling reforming 
 conformably remorsefully reverberate warrior — mis- 
 pronounced ala'ming disa'ming, &c. 
 
 4th. The errors of articulation in final syllables are 
 chiefly those of omitting or obscuring the sounds of 
 vowels, — particularly that of the letter e. This letter,, 
 when it occurs in a final syllable unaccented, should 
 have an obscure sound, which is intermediate between 
 that of e in met and that of e in mete, resembling * 
 short, and avoiding an exact or analytical style, bor- 
 dering on either of these particular forms of the 
 voweL 
 
ENUNCIATION. 33 
 
 Omission of e : Travel gravel vessel level hovel 
 novel model chapel parcel sudden hyphen sloven mit- 
 tens — mispronounced trav'l, 6cc. 
 
 Omissioii of a: Musical festival comical critical 
 capital metal canonical pontifical numerical juridical 
 ecclesiastical pharisaical paradisiacal fatal fantastical 
 principal — mispronounced music'l met'l, &c. 
 
 Omission of i: Certain fountain uncertain — mispro- 
 nounced cert'n. &c. 
 
 Omission of o: Horizon notion motion oraison dia- 
 pason creation contusion explosion — mispronounced 
 horiz'n, &c. 
 
 Obscuring the sound of e, so as to make it resemble 
 that of e in her, or of u in but. Moment confidence 
 equipment dependence dependent silent anthem provi- 
 dence independent prudent impudent confident parlia- 
 ment expedient — incorrectly pronounced momant con- 
 fidence, &c. The e in these terminations should be 
 that of the word met, without accented force. 
 
 Obscuring the sound of a, in a manner similar to 
 that mentioned above : Ascendant descendant defend- 
 ant perseverance jubilant expectant defiance affiance 
 ordinance — mispronounced ascendzmt defiance, &c. 
 
 Obscuring the sounds of o and ow final into that of 
 u in but: Potato tobacco motto felloic windo?# widow 
 nieadow willow billow follow hallow — mispronounced 
 potatu fella. &c. 
 
 Omitting the sound of g in the nasal diphthong ?ig : 
 Waking- morning- running- walking- dancing- eating 
 drinking* sleeping resting flying- moving- swimming' 
 writing- being- deserving- drawing- drowning- fawning-. 
 These and many other words, are pronounced incor- 
 rectly thus, wakin' morniif runnin,' &c. 
 
 Om itting the sound of r : War far star floor before 
 flower more alarm return enforce recourse unhorse 
 
34 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 remorse unfurl concert depart departure character 
 mutter murmur creator actor spectator nature crea- 
 ture feature — commonly mispronounced waw, fah 7 
 stah, ala'm, retu'n, depa't, depatshu', &c. 
 
 Sounding y final like e in her : City society confor- 
 mity duty beauty — mispronounced cite, societe, &c.^ 
 
 Adding the sound of r to final vowels and diphthongs, 
 when they occur before a word beginning with a 
 vowel : thus, idear of, &c. lawr of, &c. tobaccor in, &c. 
 drawr a plan, &c. 
 
 TERMINATIONS SOUNDS WHICH ARE OFTEN IMPERFECTLY 
 ENUNCIATED. 
 
 able and ably. 
 
 The error in these terminations, is that of substitut- 
 ing the a of the word able, the i of audible, or the u in 
 bubble, for the a of babble, — rendered short, however, 
 from becoming unaccented. There is a still grosser 
 error of inserting a sound like that of u in but, between 
 the b and the I, of the termination able / thus, amia6z2£ 
 for amiaWe. 
 
 Applicable formidable commendable, peaceable agree- 
 able palpable, perishable sociable amiable, pitiable 
 honourable detestable, abominable formidably com- 
 mendably, agreeably sociably amiably honourably, 
 detestably respectably immutably tolerably. 
 
 ible and ibly. 
 
 Enunciated incorrectly with the u of bubble , for the 
 i of nibble, — rendered short, as unaccented. 
 
 Invincible forcible incredible audible, illegible con- 
 
 * These and several other classes of errors, might have been 
 arranged under the general head of pronunciation, and pointed out 
 in the lesson on that subject. But it seemed preferable to trace 
 them to their source, — a faulty articulation, or want of precision in 
 the play of the organs. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 35 
 
 trovertible incontestible feasible, susceptible percep- 
 tible invincibly forcibly, incredibly audibly percepti- 
 bly contemptibly. 
 
 ure. 
 
 The error commonly heard in this termination, is 
 that of substituting u in but for the short name sound, 
 as heard in the word universal; thus, treasz^r' for 
 treasure. 
 
 Pleasure measure exposure erasure composure, dis- 
 pleasure outmeasure nature- feature creature, pressure 
 fissure leisure closure disclosure, censure tonsure liga- 
 ture miniature portraiture, legislature imposture de- 
 parture seizure. 
 
 date and tiate. 
 
 The common error is that of shortening this termin- 
 ation into one syllable, in words in which it should 
 form two ; thus, em&shate for emaciate, [ema-she-ate, 
 if analyzed.] 
 
 Depreciate officiate enunciate annunciate consociate 
 ingratiate expatiate dissociate excruciate. 
 
 cial and tial. 
 
 Commonly mispronounced as if terminating with ul 
 instead ofal; thus, SociwZ for sociaZ, [so-shal.] 
 
 Special judicial, beneficial artificial, superficial pro- 
 vincial, commercial confidential, initial substantial, 
 circumstantial credential, providential prudential. 
 
 ful and fully. 
 
 Sometimes carelessly enunciated with the sound of 
 u in bulk, instead of that of u in full, — if divested ot 
 accent ; thus, dreadful for dreadfwl. 
 
 Needful awful playful, fanciful peaceful changeful, 
 
36 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 gracefully revengeful guilefully, beautifully tunefal 
 hopeful. 
 
 tion and sion. 
 
 Often carelessly articulated without o; thus, Oeca- 
 zhn for occasion, [occa-zhun.] 
 
 Evasion invasion confusion persuasion, adhesion 
 cohesion decision division, provision explosion diffu- 
 sion conclusion, impulsion compulsion dimension ex- 
 pansion, comprehension aversion incursion compas- 
 sion, concession profession procession constitution, so- 
 lution institution caution option, perception addition 
 repetition acquisition. 
 
 dian, diate, dious, and eons. 
 
 Mispronounced by dropping the sound of i or of e ; 
 thus, Injan for Indian, by changing a into u, as Injun 
 for Indian, and sometimes by dividing thus, In-de-an 
 for Indian, [Indyan or In-dye-an.] 
 
 Tedious perfidious fastidious insidious invidious, 
 meridian compendious odious melodious commodious, 
 hideous lapideous comedian mediate intermediate; 
 immediately repudiate araneous spontaneous homo- 
 geneous, duteous plenteous bounteous beauteous 
 quotidian. 
 
 rian, rial, rious, reous, Hon and rior, 
 
 Ought to make the i and e a distinct syllable ; as / 
 does not naturally blend with the vowel which follows 
 it. Hence the necessity of pronouncing Histo-ri-an as 
 a word of four syllables, and not allowing the i to drop 
 into the sound of y. 
 
 Barbarian librarian agrarian valerian senatorial 
 equestrian, various gregarious' glorious victorious 
 laborious notorious, arboreous vitreous mysterious 
 
ENUNCIATION. 37 
 
 pretorran clarion criterion, centurion superior inferior 
 anterior material imperial, memorial armorial. 
 
 sm, Im, rm. 
 
 Sometimes articulated in an awkward manner, which 
 allows a sound like that of u in up. to drop in between 
 ni and the letter which precedes it ; thus, Patriotisum, 
 for patriotism. 
 
 Criticism exorcism, phantasm spasm, chasm witti- 
 cism, fanaticism helm, whelm elm, overwhelm worm, 
 arm alarm, harm disarm. 
 
 COMMON ERRORS EXEMPLIFIED IN PHRASES. 
 
 The importance of exemplifying current errors in 
 phrases or sentences, arises from the fact, with which 
 teachers are familiar, that a word placed separately, on 
 a column or a list, becomes necessarily so conspicuous 
 as to be more attentively observed and correctly pro- 
 nounced ; while the same word, merged in the body of 
 a phrase, is apt to escape the attention, and to be pro- 
 nounced incorrectly. 
 
 I saw (saw/")* a man who told me all things that 
 ever I did. 
 
 I have no idea of (idear of) what is meant. 
 
 He will sail for Cuba (Cubar) in a few days. 
 
 We were at that time speaking of (speakin') your 
 brother. 
 
 He had violated the laic of (law?* of) the land. 
 
 There were several (sev'ral) rare books in his col- 
 lection. 
 
 They were every (ev'ry) moment expected to appear 
 
 They were travelling (trav : llin') in great haste. 
 
 The visitors were numerous (num'rous) on that day. 
 
 He seemed sunk in melancholy (mehmch'ly). 
 
 * The error in the above examples, is contained within tht 
 parenthesis. 
 
 4 
 
38 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 He was reduced almost to (tu) despair. 
 
 You were then ready to (tu) depart. 
 
 His political (p'litic'l) opinions were liberal (lib'nd), 
 
 There was a radical (radic'l) error in* his opinion 
 (upinion). 
 
 It was a vessel (vess'l) of the first class. 
 
 His character (cha'acte') was held in just estimation 
 (estimash'n). 
 
 He was a sincere friend to liberty (libe'ty). 
 
 His notions (nosh'ns) of his own condition (con- 
 dis'hn) were absurd. 
 
 He fails in articulate (artic'late) utterance (utt' ranee). 
 
 A certain (sutt'n) man had two sons. 
 
 His composition (compiisishn) was far (fah) from 
 being correct (currect). 
 
 The grave of the Indian (injun) chief. 
 
 We are not fastidious (fastijous) in our taste. 
 
 He gave a conditional (cundishnul) promise. 
 
 The bird was fluttering (flutt'rin') over her nest. 
 
 You had a very calamitous (c'lamitous) voyage. 
 
 It was contrary to the law of (lawr of) nature. 
 
 His face wore a cadaverous (cadav'rous) hue. 
 
 The measure is preposterous (prepost'rous). 
 
 You were unable to (tu) speak. 
 
 She was present at the musical (music' 1) festival 
 (festiv'l). 
 
 He had been a great traveller (trav'ller). 
 
 They were unwilling to leave a certainty (suttnty) 
 for an uncertainty (unsuttnty). 
 
 The measure rendered them odious (ojous). 
 
 The declamation was animated and (an') chaste. 
 
 Among the boughs of (o') the trees. 
 
 Actuated by honor and (un') honesty. 
 
 Take the rod and (an') axe and (an') make the 
 murder (mudde) as you make the law. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 39 
 
 He spoke to (tu.) them of it before (bufore). 
 
 On every (ev'ry) leaf anc? (an') every (ev'ry) flower. 
 
 The creat/on (creash'n) and preservation (preser- 
 rash'n) of life. 
 
 The testimony of the second witness corroborated 
 (cznrob'rated) that of the first (fust). 
 
 The benevolent (b'nev'lunt) Howard. 
 
 The fruit was delicious (d'licious); the prospect was 
 delightful (d"lightful). 
 
 The stranger was remarkably polite (p'lite) to them. 
 
 The dignity of human ('uman) nature (natshu). 
 
 When (wen) will what (wat) he whispered (wis- 
 pered) transpire 7 
 
 Where (were) wheeled (weeled) and whirled (wirl- 
 ed) the floundering (flound'rin) whale (wale). 
 
 Behold (buhold) he is before (bufore) you. 
 
 Be prepared (prupared) to precede (prucede) them. 
 
 His opinion (upinion^) was that we ought to obey 
 (ubey). 
 
 They committed (cummitted) the whole piece to 
 memory (mem'ry). 
 
 The communications of the competitors, were com- 
 pared, (cummunications, Cvc.) 
 
 You concurred in co?zdemning the co?zfederates (cim- 
 curred, &c.) 
 
 The building which was co?zstructed of wood, and 
 co?ztained a vast quantity of combustible materials, 
 was, in a short time, consumed (as above). 
 
 She studies history (hist' ry) and rhetoric (rhet'ric). 
 
 He had no disposition (dispusish'n) to employ him- 
 self in composition (compusish'n). 
 
 His eloquence (eluquence) set the colonies (colunies) 
 in a flame. 
 
 Mature (natshu) and society (sucietty) are not al- 
 ways in unison (unis'n). 
 
/ 
 40 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Fair (fai') Greece, sad relic of departed (depa'ted) 
 worth (wo'th). 
 
 Immortal (immo'tal) though no more (mo'). 
 
 Easing their steps over (ove') the burning (bu'ning) 
 marl (ma'l). 
 
 The vessel (vess'l) was built as a model (mod'l). 
 
 We travelled (trav'lled) on a level (lev'l) road of 
 gravel (grav'l). 
 
 His musical (music'l) tone had a comical (comic'l) 
 effect. 
 
 A specimen of the metal (met'l) was sent to the 
 capital (capit'l). 
 
 In a moment of imprudent confidence, he declared 
 himself independent of their assistance (momunt, 
 <fcc.) 
 
 Looking* (lookin') out of the window on the willows 
 in the meado?/- (windu, &c.) 
 
 Dancing-, drawing*, and singing-, being- only graceful 
 accomplishments, are much less important than the 
 useful ones of reading- and writing- (dancin', &c.) 
 
 And the smooth stream in smoother (smoothe') 
 numbers (numbe's) flows. 
 
 Rarely does poverty overtake the diligent (as 
 above). 
 
 Faults of local usage exemplified. Inadvertent com- 
 pliance with negligent and erroneous custom, is a great 
 source of the defective articulation which prevails in 
 reading. The extent to which faults of this class are 
 sometimes carried, even in circumstances otherwise 
 favourable to good education, may be inferred from the 
 following specimen of the actual style of articulation, 
 current in many schools, which are certainly well 
 taught in other respects. Exercises similar to the fol- 
 lowing, should be occasionally performed by the student, 
 for his own use, with a view to the detection of current 
 errors, which might otherwise escape his notice, and 
 influence his own articulation. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 
 
 41 
 
 The following extract is printed, it will be observed, 
 with a notation of the incorrect articulation, through- 
 out. The design of this arrangement is to arrest the 
 attention, and produce, if possible, an adequate im- 
 pression of the consequences of hasty and careless 
 utterance. 
 
 Extract. " The young 
 of all animals appear to re- 
 ceive pleasure, simply from 
 the exercise of their limbs 
 and bodily faculties, with- 
 out reference to any end to 
 be attained, or any use to 
 be answered by the exer- 
 tion. A child, without 
 knowing anything of the 
 use of language, is in a 
 high degree delighted with 
 being able to speak. Its 
 incessant repetition of a 
 few articulate sounds, or 
 perhaps of a single word, 
 which it has learned to pro- 
 nounce, proves this point, 
 clearly. Nor is it less 
 pleased with its first suc- 
 cessful endeavours to walk, 
 or rather to run, which pre- 
 cedes walking, although 
 entirely ignorant of the 
 importance of the attain- 
 ment to its future life, and 
 even without applying it 
 to any present purpose. 
 A child is delighted with 
 speaking, without having 
 anything to say, and with 
 walking, without knowing 
 whither to go. And pre- 
 viously to both these, it is 
 reasonable to believe, that 
 the waking hours of in- 
 4* 
 
 Incorrect articulation. 
 The young of all animwls 
 (anim'ls or animal's) ap- 
 pear to receive playzhu., 
 simply from the exe'eise 
 of their limbs an' bod'ly 
 fae'lties, without ref 'rence 
 to any end tu be attained, 
 or any use tu be answered 
 by the exu'sA'w. A child, 
 without knowin' anything 
 u th' use of language, is 
 in a high d'gree d' lighted 
 with bein' able tu speak. 
 Its incess'nt rep'tisA?z of a 
 few artie'late sounds, or 
 p'r'aps of a single word, 
 which it has lunn'd tu pru- 
 nounce, proves this point 
 clea'ly. Nor is it less 
 pleased with its fust suc- 
 cessful endeavus tu walk, 
 or rather tu run, which 
 precedes (or pre-cedes) 
 walkin', although entirely 
 ignurunt u th' impo'tence 
 u th' attainment to its 
 futu' (or futshu) life, and 
 even without applyin > it 
 to any pres'nt pu'pose. 
 A child is d' lighted with 
 speakin' without havin' 
 anything tu say, and with 
 walkin', without knowin' 
 whither tu go. An' pre- 
 viously tu both these, it is 
 
42 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 fancy, are agreeably taken reasonabul tu b'lieve, that 
 up with the exercise of the wakin' hours of in- 
 vision, or perhaps, more funcy, are agreeably taken 
 properly speaking, with up with the exe'cise of 
 learning to see." * vizhn, or p'r'aps, more 
 
 prope'ly speakin', with 
 lunnirt tu see. 
 
 Errors of the above description, vary, of course, with 
 the places, and even the schools, in which they exist; 
 and the above, or any similar example, must be con- 
 sidered as thus limited, and not as meant to be of uni- 
 versal application. It should farther be observed, that, 
 in exhibiting a specimen of prevailing, faults, it becomes 
 necessary to-the usefulness of the exercise, to include 
 in the notation of a passage, all the errors usually 
 made by a class, although the number might be much 
 smaller for an individual. 
 
 Every person who fails of articulating distinctly, has 
 an habitual fault, in the pronunciation of one or more 
 classes of words or syllables, and sometimes, perhaps, 
 of letters. These should be selected and thrown into 
 the form of sentential exercises, for daily practice, in 
 the manner exemplified in this lesson. 
 
 * Natural impediments,' or, — as they should rather 
 be called, — faults of early habit, must be removed by 
 means adapted to particular cases. But there are few 
 students who do not need, in one form or other, the 
 full benefit of careful practice in this department of 
 elocution. The very general neglect of this branch of 
 elementary instruction, leaves much to be done, in the 
 way of correction and reformation, at later stages. 
 The faults acquired through early negligence, and 
 confirmed into habit by subsequent practice, need rig- 
 orous and thorough measures of cure ; and the student* 
 who is desirous of cultivating a classical accuracy of 
 taste, in the enunciation of his native language, must 
 be willing to go back to the careful study and practice 
 of its elementary sounds, and discipline his organs 
 
 * The above extract should be read aloud, from the incorrecf 
 articulation; the errors being rectified, when necessary, by ref'ei 
 ence to the extract as correctly given. 
 
PRONUNCIATION. 43 
 
 upon these in all their various combinations, till an 
 accurate and easy articulation is perfectly acquired. 
 The 'exercises in articulation and pronunciation,' are 
 arranged with a view to this object. 
 
 PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 This department of elocution is sometimes termed 
 orthoepy (correct speech.) It is properly but an ex- 
 tension and application of the subject of the preceding 
 lesson. Articulation regards the functions of tht 
 organs of speech ; and pronunciation, the sound pro- 
 duced by these functions, as conforming to, or devia- 
 ting from, the modes of good usage. Speech being 
 merely a collection of arbitrary sounds, used as signs 
 of thought or feeling, it is indispensable to intelligible 
 communication, that there be a general agreement about 
 the signification assigned to given sounds ; as otherwise 
 there could be no common language. It is equally 
 important that there be a common consent and estab- 
 lished custom, to regulate and fix the sounds used in 
 speech, that these may, have a definite character and 
 signification, and become the current expression of 
 thought. Hence the necessity that individuals con- 
 form, in their habits of speech,. to the rules prescribed 
 by general usage, — or, more properly speaking, to the 
 custom of the educated and intellectual classes of 
 society, which is, by courtesy, generally acknowledged 
 as the law of pronunciation. Individual opinion, when 
 it is at variance with this important and useful prin- 
 ciple of accommodation, gives rise to eccentricities, 
 which neither the authority of profound learning, nor 
 that of strict accuracy and system, can redeem from 
 the charge of pedantry. 
 
 It is a matter of great importance, to recognise the 
 rule of authorized custom, and neither yield to the 
 influence of those errors which, through inadvertency, 
 
44 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 will creep into occasional or local use, nor, on the other 
 hand x be induced to follow innovations, or changes 
 adopted without sufficient sanction. A cultivated taste 
 is always perceptible in pronunciation, as in every 
 other expression of mind ; and errors in pronouncing 
 are unavoidably associated with a deficiency in the 
 rudiments of good education. 
 
 To obtain an undeviating standard of spoken lan- 
 guage is impossible. The continual progress of refine- 
 ment, and, perhaps, sometimes, an affectation of refine- 
 ment, — and at all events irresistible custom, — ars 
 perpetually producing changes in speech, which no 
 individual and no body of men can completely check. 
 Neither Walker, therefore, nor any other orthoepist, 
 can be held up as permanent authority in every case. 
 Still, there is seldom or never an individual so happily 
 situated, as to be necessarily exempt from local pecu- 
 liarities which are at variance with general use. An 
 occasional appeal to the dictionary, must therefore be 
 useful to the majority of persons ; and, of the various 
 dictionaries in common use, Walker's may be taken as, 
 on the whole, the safest guide to good usage in pro- 
 nunciation. A few allowances must, of course, be 
 made for those cases in which a sound is noted, that 
 cannot be exactly expressed to the eye, by any combi- 
 nation of English letters. The chief of these instances 
 are explained in the exercises in articulation and pro- 
 nunciation. 
 
 Persons who are desirous of perfecting their pronun- 
 ciation would do well to read aloud, daily, a, few col- 
 umns of Walker's # dictionary, and mark with a pencil 
 those words which they find they have been accus- 
 tomed to mispronounce, themselves, or to hear mispro- 
 nounced by others. This exercise, however, must be 
 
 * The author would refer to Mr. J. E. Worcester's edition of 
 Todd's combination of Johnson and Walker's Dictionaries, as, per- 
 haps, the fullest and most accurate work of its kind. Mr. W.'s 
 Comprehensive Dictionary presents the same matter, in a form 
 adapted to schools. The same author's edition of Dr. Webster's 
 Dictionary, is a book of great practical value, in the department of 
 orthoepy, from the distinct and satisfactory manner in which it indi- 
 cates those words which are liable to various modes of proruncia 
 tion, and those in which Dr. Webster's style is peculiar. 
 
PRONUNCIATION. 45 
 
 performed on the column which contains the orthoepy, 
 and not on that which contains the orthography, as 
 errors would otherwise escape unnoticed. The follow- 
 ing will be found an easy way of committing to memory 
 the words which are marked as above mentioned. Let 
 the student compose a sentence comprising all the words 
 which he has marked in one reading ; and by repeating 
 such a sentence several times daily, the correct pro- 
 nunciation of the words will soon be permanently 
 impressed on his mind. A steady course of such 
 application will, in a few months, enable him to 
 pronounce correctly every word in the English lan- 
 guage, and save him from embarrassment and errors 
 in reading or speaking in public. 
 
 Errors in pronunciation may regard either the quality 
 of sound in letters ; or the placing of accent on syllables. 
 The former may be classed alphabetically, for the con- 
 venience of referring easily to particular letters. 
 
 VOWELS. 
 
 The letter A. 
 
 The errors committed in obscuring the sound of this 
 and other letters, have been already pointed out, under 
 the head of articulation. The following errors do not 
 necessarily imply any indistinctness in articulating, 
 but rather a mistake regarding the particular sound to 
 be given to this letter, in different circumstances. 
 
 Errors. — The indefinite article is often pronounced 
 with the sound of a in fate for that of a in fat ; thus, I 
 saw a man, for I saw a man. This is merely a child- 
 ish error, continued from the elementary schools, and 
 should be avoided, as rendering pronunciation formal, 
 p'recise, and mechanical. 
 
 A in unaccented initial syllables, is mispronounced 
 in the same way ; thus abate for abate ; — so is a final, 
 as in Cuba for Cuba ; and, generally, a unaccented, in 
 the following and similar syllables: honorary, obdu* 
 Key, peaceably, for honorary, obduracy, peaceably. 
 
46 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Rule. — The letter a, constituting an unaccented 
 j /liable, or occurring at the end of an unaccented 
 yllable, has the sound of a in that, as in the words, 
 Uone, lunacy, habitual, algebra, &c, which must not 
 je pronounced JU/tone,- lunacy, habitual, &c. ; but 
 itone, lunacy, habitual, &c. 
 
 Examjnes for Practice. 
 
 Jbash^ abandon abed abet abettor ability above 
 about abode aboard abolish abominate abortion abreast 
 abyss acclamation acute adamant adept admirable 
 adore adorn adoption adult adrift afar afresh afloat 
 again agree agreeable alarm alas alert alike amass 
 amaze amend amid amuse apart apace apology are 
 araneous aright arise arcana Asia atone Athens atro- 
 cious avail avenge avert aver avow awake aware 
 away bade canal cadaverous calamity cadet caliginous 
 calumniate canine canonical canorous caparison capit- 
 ulate caress catarrh cathedral censurable chimera 
 commendable conversable convalescent contumacy 
 comfortable conformable constable contrary corollary 
 creditable curvature customary decalogue declaration 
 demagogue despicable dictatorial dilatory dilemma 
 liploma drama Persia privacy. 
 
 In one class of words, the opposite error of giving the 
 sound of a in fat instead of a in fate, is prevalent, as 
 in Matron for matron. 
 
 The same error is often heard in the pronunciation 
 of words of Hebrew, Greek or Latin origin, as in 
 Drama for drama, Achaia for Achaia, Isiah for Isaiah.f 
 
 * Where two As occur in the same word, the one which is mis- 
 pronounced is in Italic type. 
 
 f Wherever local usage sanctions the broad A, in pronouncing 
 the ancient languages, that sound may, of course, be adopted, 
 without positive error, in reading such words, when embodied in 
 an English sentence. But where, as in both Old and New Eng- 
 land, the classical orthoepy is anglicised, the flat sound of A shoull 
 be heard. 
 
PRONUNCIATION. 47 
 
 Examples for Practice. 
 
 Patron patriot patriotism matronly satyr Saturn 
 datum desideratum arcana transparent transparency 
 azure stratum Diana Caius Isaiah Sinai. 
 
 Note. — Patriotic patronage patronised, are exceptions, 
 
 E. 
 
 Errors. — The sound of e in me, for that of e in met, 
 as in re-creant for rec-reant. 
 
 Examples for practice. — Recreate recreation relaxa- 
 tion reformation heroine heroism defalcation preface 
 recreant. 
 
 Error. — The sound of e in met, for that of e in me, 
 as in es-tate for e-state. 
 
 Examples for practice. — Esteem establish escape 
 especially. 
 
 For other errors^ see lesson and exercises in articu- 
 lation. 
 
 i. 
 
 Error. — The sound of i in pine, for that of i in pin, 
 as in Di-rect for direct, [de-rect,] masculine for mas- 
 culm. 
 
 Examples for practice. — Diverge vivacity vicinage 
 divert. 
 
 Adamantine amaranthine bitumen digress dilate 
 digestible digest (verb) digression dilacerate dilute, 
 diminish diminution diminutive diploma direction 
 directors diversion divorce diversity diversify divest 
 divinity divisible divulge feminine fertile finesse fidu- 
 cial financier finance febrile hostile juvenile liquidity 
 litigious mercantile minute minotaur minuteness mi- 
 nority philosophical philosophy piano piazza pilosity 
 reptile sinistrous. 
 
 For other errors, see as above. 
 
48 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 O. 
 
 Error. — The sound of o in no, for that of o in not, as 
 in Progress, process, produce (noun), extol; mispro- 
 nounced Pro-gress, &c, for prog-ress, &c. 
 
 The sound of o in not, for that of o in no, as in 
 Revolt, sloth, portrait ; mispronounced Revolt, &c., for 
 revolt, &c. 
 
 The sound of o in no, for that of o in done, as in 
 Testimony, patrimony, matrimony, nugatory, dilatory, 
 none; mispronounced Testimony, &c, for testimony, 
 [testimony.] 
 
 For other errors, see lesson and exercises in articu- 
 lation. 
 
 tfand Y. 
 For errors in the sounds of these letters, see as above. 
 
 DIPHTHONGS. 
 
 See, as above. 
 
 CONSONANTS. 
 
 D and T. 
 
 Error. — These letters, when they occur before w, 
 sounding as in tube, are mispronounced in two ways : 
 
 1st. Through carelessness or affectation, they are 
 softened too much, as in E/ucate and nac^ure, for 
 educate and nature.* 
 
 * The true sounds of these letters, when they occur as above, 
 cannot be easily expressed to the eye. The d and the t, however, 
 should be softened but very little. A slight softening of these let- 
 ters in the above situation, is natural and appropriate ; as we may 
 find by adverting to the very prevalent softening of these letters, in 
 the current pronunciation of such phrases as ' would you,' ' could 
 you,' ' intreat you,' containing a similar combination of sounds. It 
 is the excess, and not the thing itself, that is to be avoided, in pro- 
 nouncing the words in the text above. 
 
PRONUNCIATION. 49 
 
 2d. From a fastidious care to avoid this sound, they 
 are pronounced in a separate and analytic manner, 
 which wants fluency and freedom; thus, Ed-u-cate 
 and nature. 
 
 Examples for practice. — Educate education creature 
 feature arduous virtue virtuous fortune spiritual spirit- 
 uous signature individual gradual graduate naturally. 
 
 For other errors, see as before. 
 
 Error. — The sounding of h, when it ought to be 
 silent, as in iJumour, Aostler, Aospital, Aumble; for 
 'nmour, &c. 
 
 For other errors, see as before. 
 
 The errors commonly made in the sounds of the other 
 consonants, are mentioned in the lesson and exercises on 
 articulation. 
 
 ACCENT. 
 
 Accent is the force with which we pronounce the 
 most prominent syllable of a word, as in the syllable 
 man, in the word manfully. 
 
 Errors in accent consist in transferring it to syllables 
 on which it is not authorized by present custom, or 
 established usage, as in Contemplate for confem'plate, 
 contents (noun) for conten'ts ; and in giving undue 
 force to unaccented syllables, as in affection for afTec'- 
 iion. 
 
 The former class of errors, is to be corrected by refer- 
 ence to the dictionary, in the manner already men- 
 tioned. The following words may serve as specimens 
 of common faults in accent. 
 
 Dissyllables, erroneously accented on the first instead 
 of the second syllable : Detail retail recess access. 
 Polysyllables, erroneously accented on the second sylla- 
 ble instead of the first : Acceptable commendable. The 
 5 
 
60 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 accent on the second syllable of these words is entirely 
 obsolete ; and the attempt to revive it, although favour- 
 ing harmony of sound, is in as bad taste as the intro- 
 duction of obsolete words in writing, or the adoption 
 of antiquated fashion in garments. 
 
 Polysyllables, erroneously accented on the first sylla- 
 ble instead of the second: Contemplate compensate 
 extirpate. 
 
 The fault of improper force on unaccented syllables, 
 arises from prolonging the vowel in such syllables. 
 This error is illustrated in the incorrect sound of the 
 initial a, as in abandon for abandon. It occurs also 
 in the following and similar words : Attract attraction 
 detract deduce deduct deduction detraction delusive 
 deride derision relate remit remember review addi- 
 tion; — mispronounced att'ra'ct, detra'ct, for attra'ct, 
 detra'ct, &c. This fault should be carefully avoided, 
 as imparting to words, a childish or mechanical accent, 
 in the style of early lessons at elementary schools. 
 
 The English language differs from others in no point 
 more strikingly, than in the peculiar force of its accent, 
 which seems almost to absorb the enunciation, in read- 
 ing or in speaking, — particularly the latter. This 
 characteristic is, no doubt, often carried to excess 
 through carelessness and inattention, and produces a 
 faulty obscurity of articulation, in unaccented sounds. 
 But the fault of this extreme, cannot justify the 
 opposite, which tends to equalise accent, somewhat 
 in the manner of the French language. The style 
 of pronunciation becomes, in this way, feeble and 
 inexpressive, by losing the appropriate native prom- 
 inence of English accent. 
 
 The words The, By, My. 
 
 The, before a word beginning with a vowel, snould 
 be pronounced with the same sound of e as in Relate: 
 before a word beginning with a consonant, it should 
 have the obscure sound, as in the second syllable of 
 eternal; but never the sound of broad a. 
 
PRONUNCIATION. 51 
 
 By, in colloquial or very familiar language, may be 
 pronounced short, with a sound of y corresponding to 
 that of i in the word it, and not as sometimes heard, 
 like the e of me. But, generally, the y should be long. 
 
 My should always be pronounced with the short 
 sound of i, mentioned above, unless in emphatic 
 expression or in solemn style ; and, in the latter, only 
 in phrases directly associated with solemnity, as in the 
 following: 'my God.' Familiar phrases, even in seri- 
 ous or solemn style, should retain the short y ; thus, 
 My hand, my heart, my mouth, — not my hand, &c. — 
 So also in phrases of address, my lords, my friends, my 
 countrymen, &c. — not my lords, &c. The word myself 
 should never have the long y. 
 
 The termination ed. 
 
 In the reading of the Scriptures, the solemnity and 
 antiquity of the style are supposed by some to require, 
 or at least to authorize, the sounding of e in such 
 words. — This, however, is a matter of taste merely, 
 and should never be extended to other reading. 
 
 The preceding illustrations of errors in pronouncing, 
 are intended rather to suggest the necessity of the 
 dictionary exercise already prescribed, than to give a 
 full list of mispronunciations. Many important classes 
 of faults in pronouncing are included in the lesson and 
 exercises in articulation, which it may be useful to 
 repeat, before commencing the exercise from the dic- 
 tionary. This exercise may be performed, to great 
 advantage, by the use of the slate and pencil; the 
 pupils in a class writing, at the dictation of the 
 teacher, a column or more of words, and on a column 
 opposite, the orthoepy or actual pronunciation of each. 
 It may afford a useful variety in the form of exercise, 
 to write occasionally the orthoepy alone, as a discipline 
 of the ear, or rather of the mind, in quickness and 
 accuracy of attention.— Every locality has its own 
 peculiar errors; but the following table will, it is 
 thought, prove generally useful. 
 
62 • ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 * Words in which the current pronunciation of the United 
 States, deviates from that of England. 
 
 AMERICAN PRONUNCIATION. ENGLISH PRONUNCIATION 
 
 Accept'able, Ac'ceptable, 
 
 Again — agayn, . ... . . Again — agen, 
 
 Against — agaynst, .... Against — agenst, 
 
 Aggrandizement, Ag'grandizement, 
 
 Alternate, Alternate, 
 
 Almost, Almost, 
 
 Azure — azhure, Azure — ayzhure, 
 
 Bellows, {the noun,) belloze, . Bellows — bellus, 
 
 Bravo — Brayvo, Bravo — bravo, 
 
 Bronze — bronz, Bronze — bronze, 
 
 Caprice — cay'prees, .... Caprice — caprees', 
 
 Chamois — shammy, .... Chamois — shamo/, 
 
 Chasten, Chasten, 
 
 China — Chinay, China — China, 
 
 Chivalry — shivalry, .... Chivalry — tshivalry, 
 
 Clarion, Clarion, 
 
 Combat — combat, Combat — cumbat, 
 
 Commen'dable, Com'mendable, 
 
 Com'pensate, Compen'sate, 
 
 Comrade — comrad, .... Comrade — cumrade, 
 
 Con'fidant, Confidant', 
 
 Confiscate, Confiscate, 
 
 Constitution — constitootion , . Constitution, 
 
 Consummate, Consum'mate, 
 
 Con'template, Contemplate, 
 
 Con'tents, Contents', 
 
 Courteous — cdrteous, . . . Courteous — curteous, 
 
 Courtesy — cortesy, .... Courtesy — curtesy, 
 
 Creek — crik, Creek, 
 
 Crocodile, Crocodile, 
 
 Deaf — deef, Deaf — def, 
 
 Dec'orous, Deco'rous, 
 
 Demonstrate, Demon'strate, 
 
 De'tail, Detail, 
 
 * Peculiarities of pronunciation, whether they characterize the 
 usage of Ireland, Scotland, or the United States, fall under the 
 denomination of errors, as regards the appropriate use of the 
 English language. They are on the same footing with the faults 
 }f provincial dialect, in England itself. The English language, 
 spoken out of England, claims, justly, the same law of observance 
 with that of the French language, spoken out of France, — to bo 
 regulated by the custom of tlje country in which it originated. 
 
PRONUNCIATION. 53 
 
 AMERICAN PRONUNCIATION. ENGLISH PRONUNCIATION 
 
 Docile, Docile — dossil, 
 
 Dy'nasty, • . Dynasty, 
 
 Ele'giac, Elegiac, 
 
 Enervate, Enervate, 
 
 Enunciation — enunseation, . . Enunciation — enunsheation, 
 
 Epicu'rean, Epicurean, 
 
 Epoch, Epoch, 
 
 Es'teem, Esteem, 
 
 Es'tate, E'state, 
 
 Es'tablish, Establish, 
 
 Euro'pean, . . .... European, 
 
 Evangelical, Ev'angelical, 
 
 Ex'tirpate, Extirpate, 
 
 Eyry — Iry, Eyry — ayre, 
 
 Falchion, Falchion, 
 
 Falcon, Falcon — fawcn, 
 
 Fulsome, Fulsome, 
 
 Granary, Granary, 
 
 Grindstone, Grindstone, 
 
 Half-penny, Half-penny — hay-penny, 
 
 Hor'izon, Horizon, 
 
 Hospital — hospital, .... Hospital — ospital, 
 
 Hostler — hosier, Hostler — osier, 
 
 Housewife — house-wife, . . Housewife — huzwif 
 
 Hover — hover, Hover — huver, 
 
 Humble — Aumble, .... Humble — umble, 
 
 Humour — Aumour, . . . . Humour — umour, 
 
 Hyssop — hisup, or hissup, . . Hyssop — hizzup, 
 
 Indocile, Indocile — indossfl, 
 
 Institution — institootion, . . . Institution, 
 
 Juvenile, Juvenile, 
 
 Legend — lejend, Legend, ~ 
 
 Legislative, Legislative, 
 
 Legislature, . - Legislature, 
 
 Matron, ..""". Matron, 
 
 None, None — nun, 
 
 Orthoepy, Or'thoepy, 
 
 Pageant, Pageant, 
 
 Pasty, ... .... Pasty, 
 
 *Patent, Patent, 
 
 Patron, Patron, 
 
 Patriot, Patriot, 
 
 Portrait, Portrait, 
 
 Prebend, Prebend, 
 
 Preface, ' . . Preface, 
 
 Prelude, Prelude, 
 
 Presage, (n.) Presage, 
 
 Process, Process, 
 
 Produce, (n.). — prodoos, . . Prod'uce — (w, as in mule,) 
 
 *# * Patent-right. 
 
54 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 AMERICAN PRONUNCIATION. ENGLISH PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 Progress, Progress, 
 
 Profile, Profile — profeel, 
 
 Prologue, Prologue, 
 
 Pronunciation — pronunseation, Pronunciation — pronunsheation, 
 
 Propitiation — propissiation, . . Propitiation — propisheation, 
 
 Prot'est, (n.) Protest', 
 
 Provost, Provost — *prov'ust, or f pro'vo' 
 
 Prowess — proiss, Prowess — (ow, as in now,) 
 
 Qualify, Qualify — (a, as in wash,) 
 
 Quality, Quality — (a, as in wash,) 
 
 Quantity, Quantity — (a, as in wash,) 
 
 Raillery — railery, Raillery — rallery, 
 
 Recollect, Recollect, 
 
 Recommend, Recommend, 
 
 Recrealion, Recreation, 
 
 Reformation, Reformation, 
 
 Relaxation, Relaxation, 
 
 Retail, ........ Retail', 
 
 Revolt, Revolt, 
 
 Route — rout, Route — root, 
 
 Sewer — sooer, or sower, . . Sewer — shore, 
 
 Shone — shone, Shone — shon, 
 
 Sirrah — sirrah, Sirrah — sarrah, 
 
 Sloth, Sloth, 
 
 Solder — sodder, Solder — solder, 
 
 Strew — stroo, Strew — stro, 
 
 Survey', (n.) Survey, 
 
 Sword — sword, Sword, sord, 
 
 Tapestry, . . . ,. . . . Tapestry, 
 
 Tenet Tenet, - • 
 
 Therefore — tharefore, . . . Therefore — therfor, 
 
 Threepence — threpence, . . Threepence — threpens, 
 
 Thyme — tAyme, Thyme — tyme, 
 
 Towards — toowards', . . . Towards — tords, 
 
 Twopence — toopence, . . . Twopence — tuppens, 
 
 Topographical, Topographical, 
 
 THen'sil, U'tensil, 
 
 Vase — vace, Vase — vaze, 
 
 Vizier — vizier, Vizier, 
 
 Wainscot, Wainscot — wenscot, 
 
 Yea — ye, Yea — yay. 
 
 Note. — Some of the peculiarities noted, in the preceding list, as 
 Americanisms, are not exclusively so. Several are common to the 
 
 style of elderly persons, or of negligent usage, in England. 
 Walker's orthoepy, though unquestionable, in most instances, is, in 
 a few words, now become obsolete ; as the usage of the most 
 cultivated English society daily evinces, 
 
 * Magistrate. f Military officer. 
 
ENUNCIATION. 55 
 
 MODE OF ENUNCIATION REQUIRED FOR PUBLIC READING AND 
 
 SPEAKING. 
 
 A correct enunciation is the fundamental quality of 
 a. distinct and impressive elocution. It is an attain- 
 ment of great value, for the ordinary purposes of 
 communication ; but it becomes doubly important, in 
 the act of reading or speaking in public, whether we 
 advert to the larger space which must be traversed by 
 the voice, or the greater moment of the topics of dis- 
 course which are usual on such occasions. The appro- 
 priate style of modern eloquence, is that of intellectual, 
 more than of impassioned, expression ; and enunciation 
 being, of all the functions of the voice, that which is 
 most important, to the conveyance of thought and 
 meaning, it justly requires, in the course of education, 
 more attention and practice than any other branch of 
 elocution. 
 
 A distinct articulation, regarded as a matter of taste, 
 or the result of a well-disciplined mind, possesses, like 
 the quality of perspicuity or clearness in writing, 
 something more than a mere negative merit : it imparts 
 to speech a positive propriety and gracefulness, for the 
 want of which nothing can compensate. In the Eng- 
 lish language, especially, it is an invaluable accom- 
 plishment ; as our frequent consonants, and difficult 
 combinations of sound, while they render an accurate 
 enunciation essential to intelligible expression and 
 natural fluency of speech, tend to betray the organs 
 Into a defective and inarticulate mode of utterance, — 
 a result which may be observed in the habits of the 
 illiterate and the uncultivated, wherever the English 
 language is spoken. Nor is erroneous habit, in this 
 particular, confined to the uneducated : it extends, in 
 consequence of defective initiation in the English lan- 
 guage, to the business of the professions, and the exer- 
 cises"of literary institutions ; and until a change, in 
 this respect, is. effected in the modes of early instruc- 
 tion, a good enunciation must remain to be the fruit 
 of individual exertion and of self-cultivation. 
 
 To aid such efforts is the object, in part, of this 
 manual; and the lessons and exercises prescribed in 
 the preceding pages, although primarily designed for 
 
56 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 the elementary discipline of young learners, will also, 
 it is hoped, serve the purposes of preparatory practice 
 for public reading and speaking, if attention is given 
 to the following explanations and suggestions. 
 
 Distinct enunciation depends, as already mentioned, 
 on the true and forcible action of the organs of speech. 
 Regarded in connexion with the exercise of reading or 
 speaking in public, it requires, 1st, the 'preparatory act 
 of drawing a full supply of breath , that the lungs may 
 be freely expanded, and a sufficient volume of air 
 obtained for the production of strong and clear sound ;* 
 2d, a vigorous emission, or expulsion, of the breath, to 
 give force and distinctness to the action of those organs 
 which render sound articulate ; 3d, an energetic, delib- 
 erate, and exact execution, in the functions of the tongue 
 and the lips. It is from the combination of all these 
 qualities of articulation, that the ear receives the true 
 and perfect sound of every letter and syllable ; and the 
 mind, the exact form and* meaning of every word; 
 while a failure in any of these points, is attended by a 
 weak and inefficient voice, or a defective and indistinct 
 utterance. 
 
 The qualities requisite to distinct enunciation, nat- 
 urally belong to all human beings in the possession of 
 healtr^ and under an adequate impulse of the mind : 
 they are especially characteristic of the activity and 
 elasticity of youth, when not perverted or depressed by 
 arbitrary modes of education, or when uncorrupted by 
 bad example and neglect. Instruction and practice, 
 however, are requisite to develope and confirm these 
 natural good tendencies ; but such aids become indis- 
 pensable when the habits of enunciation have, through 
 unfavourable influences, been stamped with error, or 
 when individuals have commenced a course of study, 
 preparatory to a profession which requires correctness 
 and fluency in public address. 
 
 * This act is naturally and unconsciously performed by persons 
 whose .organization is happily adapted to vigorous exercise of voice. 
 It easily becomes a habit, even with the infirm, if due attention is 
 devoted to it. It facilitates, inexpressibly, the exertion necessary 
 to public speaking ; and the neglect of it is a great cause of internal 
 exhaustion and injury. 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. 57 
 
 A habit of drawing a full breath, has been men- 
 tioned, as the first preliminary to energetic and distinct 
 enunciation. This point will, perhaps, be more clearly 
 understood, and its value more distinctly perceived, by 
 adverting to the circumstance, that many speakers, 
 (adults, through the influence of neglected habit, and 
 the young, from agitation or embarrassment.) begin to 
 speak without a full supply oi breath, or an entire 
 inflation of the lungs, and that the mechanical impulse 
 of speaking commonly carries on the action of the voice. 
 without leaving opportunity for a full supply of breath 
 to be drawn, in the course oi a whole exercise. The 
 lungs are thus exhausted and injured, by being required 
 to furnish, (what they have not actually received.) a 
 volume of air sufficient to create and sustain a strong 
 articulate utterance. The whole style of a speaker's 
 elocution is thus rendered feeble, indistinct, and unim- 
 pressive. A due attention to the student's habits of 
 breathing, will do much towards enabling him to speak 
 or read with ease and distinctness, as well as to acquire 
 a full and habitual energy of voice, and a permanent 
 vigour of the organs of speech.* 
 
 The second requisite to distinct articulation, is a 
 forcible expulsion of the breath. Animated conversa- 
 tion, on subjects interesting to the mind, and especially 
 when a numerous company is addressed, furnishes an 
 idea of what is meant by expulsive or forcible utter- 
 ance : and the voice of a sick person. — oi an individual 
 in health, when fatigued. — of a person overwhelmed 
 with grief, shame, or embarrassment. — may serve to 
 illustrate the opposite quality of speech. — a faint and 
 metiective mode of expression. The act oi public 
 communication by oral address, requires a vigorous 
 exertion of the organs. — a thing equally essential to 
 _ animation and interest in the speaker, and to the phy- 
 sical possibility of his voice being heard, or his words 
 
 * The exercise of reading or speaking in public, must necessarily 
 be exhausting, when this point is neglected : and it is no less capa- 
 ble of becoming easy, salutary, and invigorating, if this circum- 
 stance receive due attention, and the supply of breath be frequently 
 renewed, bv advantage being taken of every slight pause, while the 
 ehest is always kept fully expanded. 
 
5S ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 understood by his audience. To produce an energetic 
 and distinct articulation, the breath must be forcibly 
 expelled, as well as freely inhaled : — a full volume of 
 air must be transmitted, with great force, to the minor 
 organs of speech, which give a definite character to 
 sound. 
 
 Where the forcible emission of the breath is neg- 
 lected, a grave and hollow voice, yet feeble and languid 
 in its execution, is unavoidably contracted, by which 
 the speaker's internal energy is much impaired, and 
 the natural effect of his delivery is lost. A strong and 
 adequate utterance, on the contrary, carries the voice 
 outward, and causes it to reach with ease, and with 
 full effect, over a large space. Expulsive enunciation 
 should receive full attention, as an easy and natural 
 means of strengthening the voice, and rendering it clear 
 and distinct. As a mode of physical exercise, it is 
 conducive to inward vigour, and to general health ; and 
 as an accomplishment in elocution, it is of the utmost 
 consequence to the appropriate expression of elevated 
 sentiment and natural emotion. 
 
 This kind of vocal force, however, must be carefully 
 distinguished from that of calling or vociferation, with 
 which it lias little in common, but which is habitually 
 exempli fled by some puhlic speakers, who indulge an 
 undisciplined and intemperate energy of feeling or of 
 voice, and by children, generally, when reading in a 
 large room. It produces the style of utterance which 
 most people erroneously adopt in conversing with a 
 deaf person. 
 
 Contrasted with a natural and habitual tone, this 
 mode of utterance has a false note, and an effect alto- 
 gether peculiar to itself: it is the tone of physical effort 
 transcending that of mental expression. True force of 
 utterance, on the other hand, keeps the tone of meaning 
 predominant, and preserves the whole natural voice 
 of the individual, while it increases its energy. It 
 differs from the tone of private conversation solely in 
 additional force, and a more deliberate and distinct 
 expression. It is the want of this style of utterance 
 which creates formal and professional tones, or what 
 is not unjustly called a school tone. 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE, 
 
 53 
 
 The third constituent of good articulation, is to be 
 found in the proper functions of the tongue and the 
 Ups. These organs divide -and modify the voice into 
 distinct portions of sound, constituting letters and 
 syllables, and consequently require energy and delib- 
 erateness, or due force and slowness, along with per- 
 fect precision, or exactness, in their action. 
 
 Energy in the play of these minor organs of speech, 
 is a quality entirely distinct from loudtmss^ or mere 
 force in the emission of the voice. A sound may 
 come from the lungs and the throat with great vehe- 
 mence, and yet be very obscure in its peculiar char- 
 acter, because not duly modified by the tongue. The 
 voice of a person under the excitement of inebriation, 
 furnishes, sometimes, a striking illustration of this 
 distinction. Strong emotion and. great loudness of 
 speech, are, from a cause somewhat similar, not fa- 
 vourable to clear expression of meaning, but often 
 have a contrary effect; the violence of feeling and of 
 utterance preventing the true and accurate formation 
 of sound. Energy of articulation, on the other hand, 
 consists in the force with which the constituent sounds 
 of every word, are expressed by the exertion of their 
 appropriate organs. It may exist with but very little 
 of mere loudness. It sometimes gives indescribable 
 power to a bare whisper. It is the quality which" 
 gives form and character to human speech, and con- 
 stitutes it the appropriate vehicle of intellect ; although 
 from languor or carelessness of habit, it is too seldom 
 exemplified in public reading and speaking. 
 
 The next point to be observed, in the action of the 
 organs, is deliberateness or due slowness, the medium 
 between hurry and drawling, — faults which are a 
 great hinderance to distinctness ; the former producing 
 a mass of crowded and confused sounds which make 
 no distinct impression on the ear, and leave no intel- 
 ligible trace on the mind ; and the latter causing the 
 voice to lag lazily behind the natural movement of 
 the mind's attention, with an unmeaning and disa- 
 greeable prolongation of sound, which takes away the 
 spirit and the significance of speech. The degree of 
 slowness required for an accurate and distinct enun- 
 
60 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 elation, is such as to leave sufficient time for the true 
 and complete formation of every sound of the voice, 
 and for the deliberate and regular succession of words 
 and syllables ; but it is free from any approach to lan- 
 guor and drawling. 
 
 Force and slowness, however, are not the only qual- 
 ities essential to distinct articulation. There must be, 
 in addition to the right degree of these properties, a 
 due attention, in every instance, to the nature of the 
 sound to be produced, and to that exertion of the or- 
 gans which is adapted to its exact execution. Artic- 
 ulate utterance requires, in other words, a constant 
 exercise of discrimination in the mind, and of precis- 
 ion, or accuracy, in the movements of the organs of 
 speech. A correct articulation, however, is not la- 
 boured and artificial in its character. It results from 
 the intuitive and habitual action of a disciplined at- 
 tention. It is easy, fluent, and natural ; but, like the 
 skilful execution of an accomplished musician, it gives 
 forth every sound, even in the most rapid passages, 
 with truth and correctness. A good enunciation gives 
 to every vowel and consonant its just proportion and 
 character ; none being omitted, no one blending with 
 another in such a manner as to produce confusion, 
 and none so carelessly executed as to cause mistake 
 in the hearer, by its resemblance to another.^ 
 
 The faults most common in articulation, were men- 
 tioned at the beginning of the first lesson. They may 
 be briefly recapitulated as consisting in feebleness of 
 expression, arising from deficiency in organic exertion; 
 omission, occasioned by rapidity ; and obscurity, by 
 inadvertency and negligence; — all contributing to ren- 
 der the voice unintelligible or indistinct. The faults 
 opposed to these are not so prevalent, nor so objection- 
 able, in regard to their influence on audible and clear 
 expression, but are very unfavourable in their effect, 
 owing to the associations inseparably connected with 
 them : they consist in undue force and prolongation 
 
 * The exercises on enunciation, in the first part of this volume, 
 are classed with reference to the different organs which they call 
 into action. This arrangement was adopted with a view to the 
 cultivation of strict accuracy of habit in articulation . 
 
CULTIVATION F THE VOICE. 6l 
 
 of sound, on accented syllables ; and a fastidious pre- 
 cision or undue prominence, in those which are unac- 
 cented. These faults create an inexpressive, drawling, 
 and childish utterance, or an artificial and affected style, 
 which is repugnant to natural feeling and good taste. 
 
 The former of these two classes of faults, (exem- 
 plified in such enunciation as anirril for animal, mo- 
 munt for moment, &c ) strikes the ear of taste as 
 coarse and careless; while the latter, which throws 
 half the accent on the last syllable, and creates the 
 Latin word animal', or the French style of moment ', 
 destroys the natural rhythm of spoken language, and 
 substitutes for it a languid and tedious succession of 
 mechanical sounds. The appropriate style of English 
 accent, is peculiarly forcible and prominent, leaving 
 unaccented sounds very slight to the ear. The excess 
 of this disproportion is, what may be called a natural 
 fault ; but the least deviation from this tendency of 
 utterance, and especially any approach to an opposite 
 extreme, produce a foreign accent. 
 
 The worst and the most prevalent of all faults, 
 however, are those of omitting and obscuring unac- 
 cented sounds, through rapidity and negligence of 
 articulation, which render it impossible to receive 
 rightly the sense of what is • read or spoken ; since 
 they prevent the possibility of articulate distinctions 
 in the voice, and of corresponding discriminations by 
 the ear. The great object of speech, is thus, to all 
 intents, lost ; for the reader or speaker is not under- 
 stood. 
 
 The subject of enunciation has, thus far, been re- 
 garded chiefly as a physical exercise,, or a mechanical 
 function of the organs of speech. It will now be 
 briefly considered in connexion with the expression 
 of thought and feeling. Contemplated in this view, 
 it requires attention to the following particulars, force, 
 pitch, and time, or rate of utterance. 
 
 Force. The distinction has been already made be- 
 tween the force of vociferation, and that of energetic 
 articulation. The former was mentioned as arising 
 from peculiar physical circumstances, and as being 
 6 
 
62 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 inapplicable to public speaking. Another kind of force 
 equally inappropriate, but habitually adopted by some 
 speakers, was also alluded to, — that arising from 
 violence of emotion. This style of utterance, from 
 whatever kind of feeling it arises, is as unsuitable in 
 addressing a public assembly as a private circle, or 
 even an individual ; although it may be very natural 
 and appropriate in poetic or dramatic recitation, which 
 often implies an expression of the extremes of human 
 feeling. The proper force of voice for public speaking, 
 has been mentioned as most nearly exemplified, in 
 animated conversation, addressed to a numerous com- 
 pany in a large room. This style of utterance possesses 
 the energy of sentiment; embracing the mental influ- 
 ence of thought and feeling, blended with the physical 
 influence of space. It is by departing from this man- 
 ner, and approaching to that first mentioned, that those 
 faulty and unnatural tones are produced, which have 
 become prevalent in professional and public perform- 
 ances. 
 
 Directions for practice. The 'exercises on force of 
 utterance,' commencing at page 67, may be practised 
 as follows. 
 
 The exercises on i shouting and calling,' should be 
 repeated daily, with the utmost attainable force ; their 
 purpose being to strengthen the organs, and impart 
 volume and power of voice. 
 
 The exercises on ' force of emotion,' may be man- 
 aged in nearly the same way. Their chief use is to 
 facilitate strength of expression, in passages marked 
 by great vehemence. 
 
 The exercises on ' declamatory force,' or the appro- 
 priate style of public speaking on subjects of impor- 
 tance and interest, must be carefully preserved from the 
 violence of tone belonging to the preceding exercises, 
 and should be strictly confined to the natural manner 
 of earnest conversation with a distinct and impressive 
 utterance.^ 
 
 * The mode of utterance which appropriately belongs to public 
 speaking, is that to which all learners, except the very youngest, 
 should be accustomed, for its mental, not less than its physical 
 advantages ; since the voice may, by early training, be formed to 
 any desirable point of strength and pliancy, and a distinct, ener- 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. 63 
 
 -The exercise on ' moderate and conversational force/ 
 should not fall short of the energy of voice required 
 for conversing in public, but should preserve that 
 moderation of utterance, which distinguishes the ordi- 
 nary occasions of conversation from those of peculiar 
 interest. 
 
 The exercise on ' subdued force ' should be read in 
 a style approaching to a whisper ; and that on ' whis- 
 pering ' should be performed in literal correspondence 
 to its designation. The intention of these two forms 
 of exercise, is, to perfect the student's command of his 
 voice, and to enable him to retain distinctness of enun- 
 ciation, while he lays aside loudness. 
 
 The most difficult of these exercises, are those on 
 declamatory and conversational force ; the former of 
 which is apt to become a compound of chanting and 
 calling, and the latter to drop down into the feeble- 
 ness of private conversation. The result, in the one 
 case,, is the common arbitrary and mechanical tone of 
 oratorical occasions, and professional performances, a 
 
 getic utterance is favourable to strong- and clear impressions on the 
 mind of the reader or speaker himself, as well as of those who are 
 addressed. Youth is the favourable season for the formation of 
 habit ; and the practice of vigorous exercise of voice, in early 
 years, lays the foundation of facility in professional effort, in after 
 life. But, aside from these general considerations, the necessity 
 of the case, in the size, merely, of most public school-rooms, fur- 
 nishes an immediate reason for the assiduous cultivation of a forci- 
 ble and natural enunciation, in school exercises. The habits which 
 generally prevail in school reading, are a bawling or a feeble utter- 
 ance, and a formal tone ; and these defects are necessarily trans- 
 ferred to the higher stages of education, and to the habits of 
 professional life. 
 
 Students whose voices are fully formed, and therefore not ex-, 
 posed to injury from great exertion, would do well, in their daily 
 practice, to carry their force of voice, not only to the utmost possi- 
 ble limit of exercise in public buildings, but even to that required 
 in addressing a numerous assemblage in the open air. Exercise of 
 this sort gives great freedom of utterance, and general command 
 of voice, in practising on a smaller scale. 
 
 Students who labour under organic weakness, and learners 
 whose voices are in the stage of transition to the grave tone of 
 adult life, should commence the practice of such exercises with a 
 moderate force, and proceed, by degrees, to the utmost extent of 
 loudness. An abrupt commencement of force might, in some 
 5, occasion injury to health, or to the voice. 
 
64 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 lone prescribed by mere custom and ill-cultivated taste; 
 the force of which adds nothing to meaning, or to 
 genuine emotion, but serves merely to express, in a for- 
 mal way, the misdirected excitement of the speaker. 
 In the other case, an over familiar, or fireside tone of 
 voice, is incurred, which is altogether at variance with 
 the seriousness and the dignity of public address. 
 
 The daily repetition of the various stages of utter- 
 ance, exemplified in the exercises on force, will serve 
 to maintain vigour and pliancy of voice, and preserve 
 a disciplined strength and facility of utterance. The 
 elementary practice of the examples should not be 
 relinquished, till a perfect command is acquired of 
 every degree of loudness. The succession of the 
 exercises should occasionally be varied, by practising 
 them in inverted order; and care should\be taken to 
 preserve, in the expression of each, that perfect dis- 
 tinctness of articulation without which force of utter- 
 ance becomes useless. Full impressions of the impor- 
 tance of preparatory discipline will be needed, to induce 
 the student to carry on this department of practice 
 with that vigorous and persevering application which 
 it requires. The advantages of the attainment in view, 
 however, are of the utmost consequence to the health 
 and vigour of the corporeal frame, the perfection of the 
 organs of speech, the distinctness of enunciation, the 
 adequate expression of thought, and the appropriate 
 influence of feeling. The customary tones of public 
 speaking are generally assumed through inadvertent 
 imitation, or adopted by misguided taste, and are 
 equally defective and injurious; whether we regard 
 the speaker himself, the sentiments which he utters, or 
 their influence on the minds of others. 
 
 Pitch. Few faults in speaking have a worse effect, 
 than the grave and hollow note of voice, into which 
 the studious and the sedentary are peculiarly apt to 
 fall, in public address. A deep and sepulchral solem- 
 nity is thus imparted to all subjects, and to all occa- 
 sions, alike. The free and natural use of the voice is 
 lost; and formality and dulness become inseparably 
 associated with public address on serious subjects; or 
 the tones of bombast and affectation take the place of 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. 65 
 
 those which should flow from earnestness and eleva- 
 tion of mind. The young catch, by involuntary 
 imitation, the intonation of adults; and hence the 
 prevalence of false and hollow utterance, in the decla- 
 mation at schools and colleges, — a style of voice which 
 often seems on a sudden to convert the youthful 
 speakers into grave and formal personages, somewhat 
 advanced in life. 
 
 The false pitch now alluded to, is attended with 
 many injurious consequences : it leads to a faint, 
 inaudible, or indistinct utterance, an exhausting mode 
 of emitting the voice, which impairs the action of the 
 lungs and the vigour of health ; add to which a formal 
 and tedious monotony of speech, preventing the natu- 
 ral tones of the voice, and their appropriate influence. 
 
 The true pitch of the voice y for every individual, is 
 that to which he inclines in animated conversation. 
 The prevailing seriousness of feeling which naturally 
 belongs to the expression of the voice, in the utterance 
 of the sentiments commonly introduced in public dis- 
 courses, may appropriately incline the tone to a lower 
 strain than is usually heard in conversation on ordinary 
 subjects. But the common error is to exaggerate this 
 tendency of voice, and to create a different mode of 
 speech from what is natural and habitual to the speak- 
 er ; so that the professional man and the individual are 
 not the same being, — if we judge by the tone and 
 expression of the voice. 
 
 The opposite fault of a high and feeble note, has a 
 very unfavourable effect on the ear, owing to the asso- 
 ciations with which it is accompanied. It divests a 
 speaker's whole manner of manliness and dignity, and 
 renders his utterance much less impressive and distinct 
 than it would otherwise be. 
 
 The various kinds and degrees of emotion, require 
 different notes of voice, for their appropriate expres- 
 sion. Deep feeling produces low tones ; joyful and 
 elevated feeling inclines to a high strain; and pity, 
 though so widely differing in force, is also expressed 
 by the higher notes of the scale. Moderate emotion 
 inclines to a middle pitch. 
 6* 
 
66 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The exercises on pitch are intended to produce the 
 Rtfect of contrast, and to guard the ear against the 
 undue prevalence of any note unauthorized by mean- 
 ing or emotion, or tending to create indistinctness of 
 utterance. The appropriate note of each class of ex- 
 ercises, will be most correctly given in practice, by 
 allowing full scope to the 'particular emotion which, in 
 each instance, affects the pitch of the voice, and other- 
 wise determines or modifies the prevailing tone. In 
 this, as well as in other departments of elocution, it is 
 the degree of mental attention and interest in what is 
 read or spoken, that favours felicity and truth of me- 
 chanical execution. The exercises on pitch should be 
 attentively practised, till the power of easy transition 
 from one class to another, in inverted, as well as regu- 
 lar, order, is fully acquired, and the appropriate key- 
 note of any emotion can be struck with certainty and 
 precision ; while the natural compass of the student's 
 voice is strictly regarded, and a strong and clear 
 articulation carefully preserved. 
 
 Time* The utterance of successive sounds re- 
 quires, in every form of speech, a certain rate, or 
 proportion of time, occupied in the formation of each 
 element of sound, and in the intervals which elapse 
 between the elements" in their natural and proper suc- 
 cession. A given time is necessary to distinct and 
 intelligible utterance. Deep and solemn emotion re- 
 quires a slow movement ; and a deliberate manner is 
 indispensable to a serious and impressive delivery ; 
 while animation and earnestness naturally incline to a 
 degree of quickness in utterance, without which speech 
 is apt to become languid and dull. 
 
 The extremes of drawling and rapidity are the 
 common faults in time ; the former unavoidably asso- 
 ciated with laziness of habit and inefficiency of voice, 
 and the latter, with carelessness and a want of self- 
 command, if not of a strong and clear conception of 
 what is uttered. 
 
 * The word time is sometimes used in elocution, as equivalent to 
 movement, in music 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. 67 
 
 The intention of the exercises under the head of 
 'time', is, to enable the student to acquire a perfect 
 command of his rate of utterance, with a vieAV to the 
 distinct communication of thought, and the appropriate 
 expression of feeling. To effect this purpose, the 
 various classes of exercise, from the slowest to the 
 quickest in rate, should be frequently and carefully 
 practised, in inverted order, as well as that in which 
 ihey are arranged in the book. 
 
 EXERCISES ON FORCE OF UTTERANCE. 
 
 Whispering. 
 
 u All silent they went, for the time was approaching, 
 The moon the blue zenith already was touching ; 
 No foot was abroad on the forest Or hill, 
 No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill." 
 
 Subdued Force. 
 
 " There is no breeze upon the fern, 
 
 No ripple on the lake ; 
 Upon her eyrie nods the erne, 
 
 The deer hath sought the brake ; 
 The small birds will not sing aloud, 
 
 The springing trout lies still ; 
 So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud, 
 That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 
 
 Benledi's distant hill." 
 
 " There breathed no wind their crests to shaken 
 
 Or wave their flags abroad ; 
 Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake, 
 
 That shadowed o'er their road : 
 No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, 
 
 Still were the pipe and drum; 
 Save heavy tread and armour's clang, 
 
 Their sullen march was dumb." 
 
68 ELOCUTIONIST 
 
 Moderate and Conversational Force. 
 
 " The Supreme Author of our being has made every 
 thing that is beautiful in all other objects pleasant, or 
 rather, has made so many objects appear beautiful, 
 that he might render the whole creation more gay and 
 delightful. He has given almost every thing about us 
 the power of raising an agreeable idea in the imagina- 
 tion ; so that it is impossible for us to behold his work? 
 with coldness or indifference, and to survey so many 
 beauties without a secret satisfaction and complacency. 
 We are everywhere entertained with pleasing shows 
 and apparitions ; we discover imaginary glories in the 
 heavens, and in the earth, and see some of this vision- 
 ary beauty poured out upon the whole creation ; but 
 what a rough unsightly sketch of nature should we be 
 entertained with, did all her colouring disappear, and 
 the several distinctions of light and shade vanish ! In 
 short, our souls are at present delightfully lost and 
 bewildered in a pleasing delusion ; and we walk about 
 like the enchanted hero in a romance, who sees beauti- 
 ful castles, woods, and meadows; and at the same 
 time hears the warbling of birds, and the purling of 
 streams : but, upon the finishing of some secret spell, 
 the fantastic scene breaks up; and the disconsolate 
 knight finds himself on a barren heath, or in a solitary 
 desert." 
 
 Declamatory Force. 
 
 1. " These abominable principles, and this more abomi- 
 nable avowal of them, demand the most decisive 
 indignation. I call upon that right reverend and this 
 most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their 
 God, to defend and support the justice of their country. 
 I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanc- 
 tity of their lawn, 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 
 own. 1 call upon the spirit and humanity of my 
 country, to vindicate the national character." 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. C9 
 
 2. " What's hallowed ground 1 'tis that gives birth 
 To sacred thoughts in souls of worth. 
 
 Peace, Independence, Truth ! go forth 
 
 Earth's compass round, — 
 And your high priesthood shall make earth 
 
 All hallowed ground." 
 
 3. "One great clime, 
 
 Whose vigorous offspring by dividing ocean 
 
 Are kept apart, and nursed in the devotion 
 
 Of Freedom, which their fathers fought for, and 
 
 Bequeathed, — a heritage of heart and hand, 
 
 And proud distinction from each other land, 
 
 Whose sons must bow them at a monarch's motion, 
 
 As if his senseless sceptre were a wand 
 
 Full of the magic of exploded science, — 
 
 Still one great clime, in full and free defiance, 
 
 Yet rears her crest, unconquered and sublime, 
 
 Above the far Atlantic !" 
 
 Force of Emotion. 
 
 1. " On. ye brave, 
 Who rush to glory or the grave ! 
 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, 
 And charge with all thy chivalry !" 
 
 2. " Strike till the last armed foe expires, 
 
 Strike for your altars and your fires, 
 Strike for the green graves of your sires, 
 God, and your native land !" 
 
 Shouting and Calling. 
 
 1st Example. " Liberty ! freedom ! Tyranny is dead ; 
 Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets !" 
 
 2. " Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells ! 
 King John, your king and England's, doth approach*: 
 Open your gates, and give the victors way !" 
 
«U ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISES ON PITCH. 
 
 Low Notes. 
 
 " Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 
 As liis corse to the rampart we hurried ; 
 Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 
 
 We buried him darkly, at dead of night, 
 The sod with our bayonets turning, 
 
 By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 
 And the lantern dimly burning." 
 
 Middle Notes. 
 
 M My thoughts, I must confess, are turned on peace; 
 Already have our quarrels filled 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. 
 'Tis time to sheath the sword and spare mankind.'' ' 
 
 " We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, 
 But free the Commonwealth. When this end fails, 
 Arms have no further use. Our country's cause, 
 That drew our swords, now wrests them from our 
 
 hands, 
 And bids us not delight in Roman blood 
 Unprofitably shed. What men could do, 
 Is done already. Heaven and earth will witness, 
 If Rome must fall, that we are innocent." 
 
 High Notes. 
 M But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair, — 
 What was thy delighted measure? 
 Still it whispered promised pleasure, 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! 
 Still would her touch the strain prolong; 
 
 And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
 She called on Echo still through all her song : 
 And where her sweetest theme she chose, 
 A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; 
 And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden 
 hair." 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. 71 
 
 EXEECISES ON TIME. 
 
 Slowest Rate. 
 
 u Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 
 In rayless majesty now stretches forth 
 Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 
 Silence, how dead ! and darkness how profound ! 
 Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds : 
 Creation sleeps. J T is as the general pulse 
 Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, — 
 An awful pause, — prophetic of her end." 
 
 Slow. 
 11 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade, 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." 
 
 "For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care; 
 No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
 Or climb his knees, the envied kiss to share." 
 
 Moderate. 
 "-If the relation of sleep to night, and, in some 
 instances, its converse, be real, we cannot reflect with- 
 out amazement, upon the extent to which it carries us. 
 Day and night are things close to us : the change 
 applies immediately to our sensations ; of all the phe- 
 nomena of nature, it is the most obvious, and the most 
 familiar to our experience : but, in its cause, it belongs 
 to the great motions which are passing in the heavens. 
 Whilst the earth glides around her axle, she ministers 
 to the alternate necessities of the animals dwelling 
 upon her surface, at the same time that she obeys the 
 influence of those attractions which regulate the order 
 of many thousand worlds. The relation, therefore, 
 of sleep to night, is the relation of the inhabitants of 
 the earth to the rotation of their globe : probably it is 
 more : it is a relation to the system of which that globe 
 is a part ; and still farther, to the congregation of sys- 
 tems of which theirs is only one. If this account be 
 
72 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 true, it connects the meanest individual with the uni- 
 verse itself: a chicken, roosting upon its perch, with 
 the spheres revolving in the firmament." 
 
 Lively. 
 " In thy right hand lead with thee 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; 
 And, if I give thee honor due, 
 Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 
 To live with her, and live with thee, 
 In unreproved pleasures free : 
 To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And, singing ; startle the dull night, 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
 Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 
 And at my window bid good morrow, 
 Through the sweet brier or the vine, 
 Or the twisted eglantine." 
 
 Quick. 
 " Now the storm begins to lower ; 
 (Haste, the loom of hell prepare ;) 
 Iron sleet of arrowy shower 
 Hurtles in the darkened air. 
 
 " Ere the ruddy sun be set, 
 Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, 
 Blade with clattering buckler meet, 
 Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. 
 
 " Sisters, hence with spurs of speed ! 
 Each her thundering falchion wield; 
 Each bestride her sable steed : 
 Hurry, hurry, to the field !" 
 
 The preceding exercises will be found serviceable m 
 training the organs and forming the voice to the appro- 
 priate style of public reading and speaking. They are 
 not meant, however, to supersede a regular course of 
 culture, on the plan prescribed in Dr. Rush's Philoso- 
 phy of the Voice, — an advantage, now accessible to stu- 
 dents in Boston and Cambridge, at the Yocal and Gym- 
 nastic Institute of Mr. J. E. Murdoch. 
 
INFLECTION. 
 
 Introductory Observations. The use of inflection is 
 to give significance to speech, and constitutes that part 
 of modulation which is addressed to the understanding. 
 It ranks next to a distinct articulation, as the means of 
 rendering consecutive oral expression intelligible. It 
 has, too, a certain effect of local melody, — so to term 
 it, — in the successive clauses of a sentence, without 
 which aid we could not discriminate between the com- 
 mencement and the completion of a thought addressed 
 to the ear. 
 
 Propriety of tone, even in the plainest forms of prose 
 reading, is wholly dependent on the right use of 
 inflections ; and the absence, or the wrong application, 
 of these modifications of voice, indicates either a want 7 
 of ear, or of right understanding as to the sense of 
 what is read. In the reading of verse, appropriate 
 inflections are the only means of avoiding the two 
 great evils of monotony and chant. 
 
 Reading, without inflections, becomes lifeless, as 
 may be observed in what is usually called a ' school- 
 boy tone.' This fault not only divests language of its 
 meaning, but substitutes a ludicrous monotony for the 
 natural, animated, and varied expression of the voice", 
 in actual communication. The hearer unavoidably 
 loses all interest in what is monotonously read ; for it 
 makes no appeal either to his feelings or to his under- 
 standing. 
 
 But it is not monotony, or the mere absence of 
 inflection, or a formal mannerism, that is the only 
 ground of complaint, as regards the too common style 
 of reading. The ear undisciplined by proper early 
 training, acquires habits of false intonation, and for the 
 appropriate slides of the voice, substitutes, often, such 
 7 
 
74 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 as are quite at variance with the sense of what is read, 
 or utterly repugnant to the ear of cultivated taste.* 
 
 SIMPLE RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS, OR SLIDES. 
 
 Definitions.! Inflection, as a term applied to elocu- 
 tion, signifies the inclining, or sliding, of the voice, 
 either upward or downward.^ 
 
 There are two simple inflections, — the upward, or 
 rising, usually denoted hy the acute accent (') — the 
 downward, or falling, marked with the grave ac- 
 cent ( v ). 
 
 The former occurs in the tone of a question which 
 admits of being answered by yes or no, or by any other 
 form of affirmation or negation ; and the latter in that 
 of the answer ; thus, 
 
 "Is it a difficult affair?"— "Yes." 
 
 "Will you go see the order of the course?" — 
 
 "Not^/." 
 
 "AVw'c?, say you?" — u ^Arm , d 1 my lord." 
 
 Note 1. In the tones of strong emotion, the rising 
 inflection runs up to a very high note, and the falling 
 
 * A striking example of this fault occurs in the prevalent use of 
 the ' wave,' double slide, or ' circumflex,' — in the colloquial 
 accent, and the local reading intonation of New England, — a fault 
 which even well-educated persons often unconsciously display on 
 the gravest occasions, although the appropriate use of the circum- 
 flex belongs only to the language of wit, or drollery, or to sarcastic 
 and ironical expression. 
 
 This tone is strikingly exemplified in every emphatic word of 
 what are popularly termed ' Yankee stories,' but may be traced, in 
 a reduced form, in the current tones of New England, whether in 
 speaking or in reading. 
 
 f The importance of clear and correct ideas in the study of a sub- 
 ject new to many learners, has induced the author to adopt as 
 systematic and exact an arrangement as possible, though at the risk, 
 perhaps, of apparent formality. Those parts of this work which 
 are distinguished by leaded lines, are intended to be committed to 
 memory. On all others, the learner should be closely examined. 
 
 % Teachers and students will find here, as in all other departments 
 of elocution, a copious source of instruction in Dr. Rush's elaborate 
 work on the Philosophy of the'Human Voice. 
 
INFLECTION. 75 
 
 descends to one very low. The space traversed by 
 the voice, in snch cases, is sometimes a ' third,' some- 
 times a 'fifth,' and sometimes an 'octave,' according 
 to the intensity of emotion. 
 
 Example 1. [The tone of indignant surprise, height- 
 ened by question and contrast] : — "Shall we in your 
 oerson crown the author of the public calamities, or 
 shall we destroy him? " 
 
 2. " Hark ! — a deep sound strikes like a rising 
 knell." 
 
 [Earnest, agitated inquiry] : — "Dtid you not hearitV 
 [Careless and contemptuous answer] : — u No! 'twas 
 but the wind, 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street." 
 
 3. [Excessive impatience]: — "Must I endure all 
 this?" 
 
 [Derisive and scornful repetition] : — u All this}" 
 [Emphatic assertion] : — u Ay, more" 
 
 Note 2. In unempassioned language, on the con- 
 trary, the tone being comparatively moderate, the 
 inflections rise and fall but slightly. 
 
 The following examples, in which this diminution 
 uf inflection takes place, are so arranged that the 
 inflections are to be reduced by successive stages, till 
 they lose entirely the point and acuteness of the tone 
 of question, from which they are supposed to com- 
 mence, and are, at last, brought down nearly to the 
 comparative level which they acquire in conversational 
 expression, — the form in which they are oftenest em- 
 ployed in a chaste and natural style of reading. 
 
 Example 1. Interrogation, when not emphatic, thus. 
 "Shall I speak to him?" 
 
 2. Contrast, when not accompanied by emotion: 
 " They fought not for fame but freedom." 
 
 3. The expression of a condition or a supposition : 
 "If we would be truly happy, we must be actively 
 useful." "Your enemies may be formidable by their 
 number and their power. But He who is with you is 
 mightier than they." 
 
 4. Comparison and correspondence: "As the beauty 
 
76 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 of the body always accompanies the health of it, so is 
 decency of behaviour a concomitant to virtue." 
 
 5. Connexion : "He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 And shouted, Victory ! " 
 
 6. Continuance of thought, or incomplete expres- 
 sion, generally: "Destitute of resources, he fled in 
 disguise." "Formed to excel in peace, as well as in 
 war, Csesar possessed many great and noble qualities." 
 " While dangers are at a distance, and do not immedi- 
 ately approach us; let us not conclude that we are 
 secure, unless we* use the necessary precautions against 
 them." " To us who dwell upon its surface, the earth 
 is by far the most extensive orb that our eyes can any- 
 where behold." 
 
 CIRCUMFLEX. 
 
 ■ 
 
 Definition. Circumflex, or wave. The two simple 
 inflections, the rising and the falling, are superseded, 
 in the tones of'keen and ironical emotion, or peculiar 
 significance in expression, by a double turn, or slide of 
 voice, which unites both in one continuous sound, 
 called the circumflex, or wave. 
 
 When the double inflection thus produced, terminates ' 
 with the upward slide, it is called the rising circumflex, 
 which is marked thus (v) ; when it terminates with 
 the downward slide, it is called the falling circumflex, 
 — marked thus (a). 
 
 These inflections occur in the following passage of 
 ironical expression. — deriding the idea that Caesar was 
 entitled to the credit of humane feeling, because he 
 could not pass the Rubicon without a pause of mis- 
 giving : " Oh ! but he paused upon the brink ! " 
 
 MONOTONE. 
 
 Definition. When no inflection is used, a monotone, 
 or perfect level of voice, is produced, which is usually 
 
INFLECTION. 77 
 
 marked thus (-). This tone belongs to emotions arising 
 from sublimity and grandeur. It characterizes, also, 
 the extremes of amazement and horror. 
 
 " High on a throne of royal state, that far 
 Outshone the wealth of Orrnus or of Ind, 
 Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 
 Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 
 Satan exalted sat." * 
 
 RULES ON THE FALLING INFLECTION. 
 
 Rule I. Forcible expression requires the falling 
 inflection, as in the following instances of energetic 
 emotion : earnest calling or shouting, abrupt and vehe- 
 ment exclamation, imperious or energetic command, 
 indignant or reproachful address, challenge and defi- 
 ance, swearing and adjuration, imprecation, accusa- 
 tion, — assertion, affirmation, or declaration, — assur- 
 ance, threatening, warning, denial, contradiction, 
 refusal, — appeal, remonstrance, and expostulation, ear- 
 nest intreaty, exhortation, earnest or animated invita- 
 tion, temperate command, admiration, adoration. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Calling and shouting : " Awake ! arise ! or be for 
 
 ever fallen ! " 
 Abrupt exclamation: "To arms! they come ! — the 
 
 Greek, the Greek ! " 
 Imperious command: "Hence! home, you idle 
 
 creatures, get you home ! " 
 Indignant address: "You blocks, you stones, you 
 
 worse than senseless things" — 
 Challenge and defiance: "I dare him to his proofs." 
 Swearing and adjuration : "By all the blood that 
 
 fury ever breathed, 
 The youth says well." 
 
 * Farther examples of this inflection occur under the Rules oq 
 Monotone. 
 
 7# 
 
78 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 "I do beseech you, 
 By all the battles wherein we have fought, 
 By the blood we have shed together, by the vows 
 We have made to endure friends, that you directly 
 Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates." 
 
 Imprecation : " Accurs'd may his memory blacken, 
 If a coward there be that would slacken" — 
 
 Accusation : " With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy 
 throat." 
 
 Assertion, affirmation, declaration: "We must 
 fight, — I repeat it, sir, — we must fight." 
 
 Assurance: "But whatever may be our fate, be 
 assured, be assured that this Declaration will stand." 
 
 Threatening: " Have mind upon your health, tempt 
 me no further." 
 
 Warning: "Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day." 
 
 Denial : " For Gloucester's death, — 
 
 I slew him not, but, to my own disgrace, 
 Neglected my sworn duty in that case." 
 
 Contradiction: " Brutvs. I did send to you 
 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me — 
 Cassius. I denied you not. 
 Brn. You did. 
 Cas. I did not"— 
 
 Refusal: "Your grace shall pardon me, I will not 
 back." 
 
 Appeal : " Lappeal to all who hear me, for the truth 
 of my assertion." 
 
 Remonstrance and expostulation : 
 
 " Good reverend father, make my person yours, 
 And tell me how you would bestow yourself. 
 This royal hand and mine are newly knit; — 
 The latest breath that gave the sound of words, 
 Was deep-sworn faith, peace amity, true ldve, 
 Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves ; 
 And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood, 
 So newly joined in love, so strong in both, 
 Unyoke this seizure and this kind regret?" 
 
 Earnest intreaty : " Let me, upon my knee, prevail 
 in this ! " 
 
INFLECTION. 79 
 
 Exhortation: Ct Come on. then; be men." 
 
 Earnest invitation : :: Come forth, O ye children of 
 
 gladness, come ! " 
 Temperate command : u Sow launch the boat upon 
 
 the waves." 
 Admiration : " How beautiful is night! " 
 Adoration : u Great and marvellous are thy works, 
 Lord God Almighty i " 
 
 Rule II. The falling inflection is required in the 
 expression of relative force of tkougfit. as in the em- 
 phasis of contrast, when one part of an antithesis is 
 made preponderant, whether by affirmation opposed 
 to negation, or merely by comparative force or promi- 
 nence. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 " They fought not for fame but freedom." 
 
 " Are you an actor in this busy scene, or are you 
 but an idle spectator ? " 
 
 " True politeness is not a mere compliance with 
 arbitrary custom. It is the expression of a refined 
 benevolence."^ 
 
 "You were paid to fight against Alexander, — not 
 to rail at him." 
 
 u A countenance more in sorrow than in anger." 
 
 * Teachers must have felt the diileuliy of imparting- a dear con- 
 ception of the effect of the failing slide, in examples like the above, 
 in whieh its character is wholly dependent ©n a preceding or a sab- 
 sequent rising inflection. To the ear of the pupil, the rising note 
 at the end of the negative or less forcible sentence, seems unnatu- 
 ral, from his habit of complying with the direction to ' let the 
 voice uniformly fall at a period.' — a direction which, from not be- 
 ino - duly qualified, is one of the chief ea-uses of monotonous and 
 unmeaning tones in reading. 
 
 It js not till the learner's attention has been attracted to the cir 
 cumstaace of relative force, or preponderance, in the members of 
 a comparison or a contrast, that his ear catches the true tone Gf 
 meaning in such cases, and recognizes the falling inflection 'as its 
 appropriate characteristic, and the rising as a necessary contrast, in 
 s-hatever pari; of a sentence they occur. 
 
80 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Rule III. The falling inflection terminates a forci- 
 ble interrogation, or any form of question which does 
 not admit of being answered by yes or no. 
 Examples. 
 "What conquests brings he home?' 7 
 "Who's here so base that he would be a bondman?" 
 " When went there by an age since the great flood, 
 
 But it was famed with more than with one man? " 
 "Why should this worthless tegument endure, 
 
 If its undying guest be lost for ever? " 
 " How shall we do for money for these wars?" 
 " Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
 To mask thy monstrous visage ? n 
 
 Exception. Any question repeated or echoed in lh« 
 tone of genuine or affected surprise. Such questions 
 always end with the rising inflection, as in the follow- 
 ing instances : 
 
 " Where grows ! — where grows it not ? " 
 
 " What news ! Can any thing be more new, than 
 that a man of Macedonia should lord it over all 
 Greece?" 
 
 " How accomplish it ? — certainly not by never at- 
 tempting it \ " 
 
 Note. The examples which follow the preceding 
 rule, are classed under the general head of ' forcible 
 interrogation,' as it is their comparative force which 
 seems to require the falling inflection ; while the form 
 of interrogation which is answered by yes or no, de- 
 mands, on the principle of incompleteness or suspen- 
 sion of thought, the rising inflection ; since the circuit 
 of thought is not completed till the answer is given, 
 as well as the question put. 
 
 That there is a comparative rhetorical force in the 
 former species of interrogation, — that which is not 
 answered by yes or no, — will appear by changing, in 
 one of the above examples, the form of the question * 
 thus, "Is any here so base that he would be a bond- 
 
INFLECTION. 81 
 
 man?" — a feeble and lifeless inquiry, compared to the 
 original, " Who 's here so base," &c. 
 
 The echoing question of surprise, assumes the rising 
 inflection, because in it an ellipsis takes place, which 
 would be supplied by a question demanding an affirm- 
 ative or a negative answer; thus, as before, '-What 
 news ! " — i. e. "What news ! (did you say?)" 
 
 Rule IV. Completeness of thought and expression, 
 is indicated by the falling inflection, whether at the 
 end of a sentence, or of a clause which forms perfect 
 sense, independently of the remainder of a sentence.* 
 
 Examples. 
 11 Human life is the journey of a day." 
 
 tt J have seen, 
 
 The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind 
 To hear him speak: matrons flung their gloves, 
 Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, 
 Upon him as he passed ; the nobles bended 
 As to Jove's statue ; and the commons made 
 A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts : 
 I never saw the like." 
 
 Exceptions. Pathetic expression and poetic descrip- 
 tion, whether in the form of verse or of prose, require 
 the rising inflection, even where ,the sense is complete, 
 as in the following instances : 
 "For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care; 
 No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share." 
 "Are they gone? — all gone from the sunny hill? 
 But the bird and the blue fly rove over it still, 
 And the red deer bound in their gladness free, 
 And the turf is bent by the singing bee, 
 And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow" — 
 " The most intimate friendship, — of what brief and 
 scattered portions of time does it consist ! We take 
 
 * See Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 
 
82 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 each other by the hand; and we exchange a few 
 words and looks of kindness ; and we rejoice together 
 for a few short moments; and then days, months, 
 years intervene, and we have no intercourse with 
 each other." 
 
 Application of Rule IV. to series of words and clauses. 
 The word series, in elocution, is used to designate a 
 succession of words or clauses, — amounting to any 
 number, from two upwards, — so connected in mean- 
 ing, as to be comprehended under the same rule of 
 syntax, by a conjunction expressed or understood. 
 
 A series which is so formed that each of its mem- 
 bers concludes, or completes, a distinct portion of the 
 sense. — so that the sentence might terminate at any 
 of these members, without leaving the impression of 
 an imperfect idea or an unfinished sentence, — is called 
 a concluding series. 
 
 A series which consists of single words, connected 
 as above, is called a simple series : one which com- 
 prises several words, or a clause, in each of its succes- 
 sive members, is called a compound series. 
 
 The following sentence contains an example of a 
 simple concluding series of five members : 
 
 "The characteristics of chivalry, were valour, hu- 
 manity, courtesy, justice, and honour." 
 
 Example of a compound concluding series : 
 
 " The characteristics of chivalry were personal 
 courage, humane feeling, courteous deportment, a 
 strict regard to justice, and a high sense of honour." 
 
 Note 1. A concluding series is read, (as marked 
 above,) with the falling inflection on every member 
 except the penultimate, which rises in preparation for 
 the cadence at the close of the sentence.^ 
 
 This rule holds in all cases, except those which 
 contain extraordinary force of expression; and, in 
 such instances, the falling inflection prevails through « 
 out; thus, "Eloquence is action — noble, sublim*\ 
 godlike action." 
 
 * See Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 
 
INFLECTION, 
 
 83 
 
 Note, 2. Pathetic and poetic series are excepted, 
 throughout, from the application of Rule IV., and are 
 read with the rising inflection on every member but 
 the last, as in the subjoined examples. 
 
 " not to me returns 
 
 Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, 
 Or sight of vernal biooni, or summer's rose, 
 Or flocks or herds or human face divine " — V 
 li Content thee, boy ! in my bower to dwell, — \ 
 
 Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well; f 
 
 Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, 
 Harps which the wandering breezes tune, 
 And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, 
 Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard, 5 * 
 "When we have looked on the pleasures of life, 
 and they have vanished away; when we have looked 
 on the works of nature, and perceived that they were 
 changing; on the monuments of art, and seen that 
 they would not stand • on our friends, and they have 
 fled while we were gazing ; on ourselves, and felt that 
 we were as fleeting as they ; when we have looked on 
 every object to which we could turn our anxious eyes, 
 and they have all told us that they could give us no 
 hope nor support, because they were so feeble them- 
 selves; we can look to the throne of G6d: # change 
 and decay have never reached that; the revolution 
 of ages has never moved it; the waves of an eter- 
 nity have been rushing past it, but it has remained 
 unshaken; the waves of another eternity are rush- 
 ing toward it, but it is fixed, and can never be dis- 
 turbed." 
 
 Application of Rule IV. in the answer to a ques- 
 tion : Whatever word contains the answer to a ques- 
 tion preceding, is pronounced with the falling in- 
 flection ; thus, 
 
 " AWd, say you V " A s rm'd my lord." 
 
 Application of Rule IV. in antithesis : The falling 
 
 * The remainder of the sentence falls under the exception ta 
 Not** I on the Concluding Series. See page 82. 
 
84 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 inflection is used in the latter member of an antithe- 
 sis # of equal force in its constituent parts ; thus, 
 
 "In Homer, we admire the man; in Virgil, the 
 work." 
 
 "Are you toiling for fame, or labouring to heap up 
 a fortune?" 
 
 RISING INFLECTION. 
 
 Rule I. Forms of speech which excite expectation 
 of farther expression, — whether they occur in the form 
 of question, or of incomplete thought, and suspension 
 of sense, — raise or suspend the voice by the rising 
 inflection. 
 
 Note 1. The circumstance of incompleteness, or ex- 
 pectation, is the turning point on which depend all the 
 rules for the rising inflection, as far as this slide is 
 associated with meaning addressed to the understand- 
 ing. Feeling and harmony are the governing princi- 
 ples embodied in all the other rules on this inflection. 
 The extent of the slide, or, in other words, the interval 
 which the rising inflection traverses, in these cases, is 
 prescribed by the nature of the prevalent emotion, in 
 each instance. But in the circumstances presumed in 
 Rule I., the slide is more or less elevated, according to 
 the degree of expectation excited by the phrase to 
 which it is applied, or the length of the clause which 
 it terminates, and consequently the length of time 
 during which the attention is kept in suspense. 
 
 Hence, in marked suspension of sense, and in the 
 vivid expectation consequent upon it, the inflection 
 runs high, — usually traversing an ' octave ' or a 
 ' fifth ;' thus, 
 
 " Shall we then tamely yield, or bravely resist ? " 
 
 In the moderate suspension of connexion, on the 
 contrary, the inflection is much reduced; seldom rising 
 above a 'third;' sometimes limited to a single note, 
 or even a semitone ; and sometimes preserving a per- 
 
 * The antithesis of unequal parts, occurs under Rule IT. on tha 
 falling inflection. 
 
INFLECTION. 85 
 
 feet monotone. The annexed example, read in the 
 tone of solemn description, allows but a very slight 
 interval to the rising slide on the word ' falls.' 
 
 " The dew of night falls, and the earth is refreshed." 
 
 In the following and similar examples, the inflection 
 rises in proportion as the clause or clauses to which it 
 belongs, are lengthened : 
 
 "As we cannot discern the shadow moving along 
 the dial-plate, so the advances we make in knowledge, 
 are only perceived by the distance gone over." 
 
 " As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but 
 did not perceive its moving ; so our advances in learn- 
 ing, consisting of insensible steps, are only perceivable 
 by the distance." 
 
 "As we perceive the shadow to have moved along 
 the dial-plate, but did not perceive its moving; and it 
 appears that the grass has grown, though nobody ever 
 saw it grow : so the advances we make in knowledge, 
 as they consist of so minute steps, are only perceivable 
 by the distance." 
 
 Note 2. Rule I. on the rising inflection applies in 
 the tone of a question which requires an affirmative 
 or a negative answer; in the tone of surprise, as it 
 intimates suspense, and is usually expressed in the 
 form of question ; in respectful address, request, peti- 
 tion, or apostrophe ; in the negative, or less forcible, 
 part of an antithesis; hi the expression of a condition, 
 a supposition, or a concession ; in the first part of a 
 comparison, a contrast, or a correspondence ; in the 
 expression of connexion or continuance ; in any phrase 
 which is introductory to another, and leaves the sense 
 of a passage incomplete. 
 
 Examples. 
 Questions admitting of an affirmative or a negative 
 answer : " Will you obey so atrocious a mandate 1 " 
 Surprise : " Ha ! laughest thou, Lochiel, my vision 
 
 to scorn?" 
 . " What ! surrender on terms so dishonourable V 
 Address: "My lord, I think I saw him yester* 
 night." 
 8 
 
86 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 "Can you, fellow-citizens, be misled by such argu- 
 ments?" 
 
 Request: " Refuse not this last request of friend- 
 ship!" 
 
 Petition : " Oh ! gently on thy suppliant's head, 
 Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand !" 
 
 Apostrophe : O sacred Truth, thy triumphs ceased 
 awhile," — 
 
 Antithesis: " He came not with the aspect of ven- 
 geance but of mercy." 
 
 Condition or supposition : "If we attempt to num- 
 ber the stars, we are presently bewildered and lost : if 
 we attempt to compass the idea of eternity, we are 
 overwhelmed by the contemplation of a theme so 
 vast." 
 
 Concession: "Science may raise you to eminence; 
 but virtue alone can guide you to felicity." 
 
 Comparison, contrast, and correspondence : "As 
 face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man tc 
 man." 
 
 " Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid: Pope 
 is always smooth, uniform, and gentle." 
 
 Connexion and continuance: "He came unto his 
 own, and his own received him not." 
 
 Introductory phrase: " In the midst of perplexities, 
 he was never discouraged." 
 
 Application of Rule I. to series of words and clauses. 
 The last member of a commencing series is read with 
 the rising inflection. 
 
 A commencing series is that in which the sense is 
 merely commenced, or left incomplete, at every word 
 or clause: the whole being introductory to a following 
 phrase. 
 
 [Compare this with the definition of the concluding 
 series, in the application of Rule IY. on the falling in- 
 flection.] 
 
 Examples. li Valour, humanity, courtesy, justice, 
 and honour, were the characteristics of chivalry." 
 
 "Personal courage, humane feeling, courteous do- 
 
INFLECTION. 
 
 8? 
 
 pdrtment, a strict regard to justice, and a high sense 
 of honour, were the characteristics of chivalry.* 
 
 Note 3. Exceptions to all the applications of Rule 
 I. on the rising inflection, occur in cases of peculiar 
 force or emphasis. In such instances, the falling in- 
 flection supersedes the rising ; as the former is the 
 invariable indication of energetic expression, and the 
 rule of force displaces every other, in the utterance of 
 thought. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Earnest interrogation : "He now appears before a 
 jury of his country for redress. Will you deny him 
 this redress. " 
 
 Interrogation of emphasis : "Do you think that your 
 conditions will be accepted ? Can you even imagine 
 they will be listened to 7" 
 
 Peculiar distinction in contrast: " If we have no 
 regard for our own character, we ought to have some 
 regard for that of others." 
 
 Emphatic expression in condition and supposition : 
 " If you did, I care not." 
 
 Energetic expression, although marked by the forms 
 of connexion and continuance of meaning : 
 
 "Such, where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring." 
 
 Introductory and incomplete expression, when em- 
 phatic :*" Destitute of every shadow of excuse, he 
 shrunk abashed at the reproof." "Every day he 
 lived, he would have repurchased the bounty of the 
 
 * The falling inflection seems, notwithstanding the incomplete 
 sense of a commencing series, to belong appropriately to all the 
 members but the last, on the principle of enumeration, which, from 
 its approach to completeness at every stage, naturally inclines to the 
 falling inflection, as we may ascertain by referring to the customary 
 tone of serious and attentive counting or reckoning. This inflec- 
 tion, however, is of minor consequence, and, unless in emphatic 
 language, may be superseded by the rising, without any other 
 defect, than a comparative want of force and harmony. It is the 
 closing inflection of the series which is essential to meaning, and 
 indicates to the ear, whether the sense is complete or incomplete, 
 and whether the series is a commencing or a concluding one. [See 
 Concluding Remarks on Inflection.] 
 
OO ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 crown, and ten times more, if ten times more he had 
 received." 
 
 The last member of a commencing series, if em- 
 phatic : " His hopes, his happiness, his very life, hung 
 upon the next word from those lips." 
 
 Expressions of surprise, when emphatic: "It does 
 not seem possible, even after the testimony of our 
 senses." 
 
 Forcible address: "Mr. Chairman, I call on your 
 interference to put a stop to this uproar." 
 
 Request, petition, intreaty, apostrophe : 
 " Be husband to me, Heavens ! " 
 
 Note 4. The rising inflection gives place to the 
 falling, in the tone of an interrogatory sentence which 
 extends to unusual length, or concludes a long para- 
 graph or an entire piece; thus, 
 
 "The Brigan tines, even under a female leader, had 
 force enough to burn the enemy's settlements, to storm 
 their camps, and if success had not introduced negli- 
 gence and inactivity, would have been able entirely to 
 throw off the yoke; and shall not we, untouched, 
 unsubdued, and struggling not for the acquisition, but 
 the continuance of liberty, declare, at the very first 
 onset, what kind of men Caledonia has reserved for 
 her defence ?" 
 
 Rule II. The tones of pathos, — of tenderness and 
 of grief, — usually incline to the rising inflection. 
 
 For examples turn to Note 2d, Rule IV. on the fall- 
 ing inflection. 
 
 Exception. The exclamations of excessive grief 
 take the appropriate falling inflection of force ; thus, 
 "Oh! my son Absalom ! my son, rny son Absalom !" 
 
 Rule III. Poetic and beautiful description, — 
 whether in the form of verse or of prose, — has the 
 rising inflection. 
 
 For examples see as above, and add the following : 
 " When the gay and smiling aspect of things, has 
 
INFLECTION. 89 
 
 begun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus 
 thoughtlessly unguarded ; when kind and caressing 
 looks of every object without, that can natter his 
 senses, have conspired with the enemy within to he- 
 tray him. and put him off his defence ; when music 
 likewise hath lent her aid, and tried her power upon 
 the passions ; when the voice of singing men. and the 
 voice of singing women, with the sound of the viol 
 and the lute, have broke in upon his soul, and, in 
 some tender notes, have touched the secret springs of 
 rapture : — that moment, let us dissect and look into 
 his heart : see how vain, how weak,* how empty a 
 thing it is," f 
 
 Exception. Description, when characterized by 
 great force, requires the falling slide in poetry, as 
 well as in prose : thus, 
 
 "Now storming fury rose, 
 And clamour, such as heard in heaven till now 
 "Was never : arms on armour clashing brayed 
 Horrible discord ; and the madding wheels 
 Of brazen chariots raged : dire was the noise 
 Of conflict: " — 
 
 Rule IY. Harmony and completeness of cadence^ 
 require the rising inflection at the close of the penul- 
 
 * See Xote 1 to Rule IT. on the falling inflection. 
 
 f The above example, it will be perceived, might be classed 
 under the commencing series, and, if divested of poetic character, 
 might be read with a prevailing downward slide. This circum- 
 stance may suggest the general rule of reading poetic series with 
 the rising slide on every member, except the penultimate of a com- 
 mencing series, and the last of a concluding one ; the falling slide 
 being required in the former, as a preparation for a distinct and 
 prominent rising slide on the last member, and in the latter for the 
 cadence of the sentence. 
 
 The reason why the prevalence of a rising slide should charac 
 terize poetic description, is to be found, perhaps, in the milder and 
 softer character of that inflection, compared to the falling slide, 
 which is always the expression of force. The calm and gentle 
 emotions of poetic description, in general, will therefore be most 
 appropriately given by the former. 
 
 [See, as a contrast to this inflection, the Exceptions to Rule III. 
 on the rising inflection.] 
 
 8* 
 
90 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 timate clause of a sentence, so as to admit of a full 
 descent at the period. 
 
 Example. "In epic poetry the English have only 
 to boast of Spencer and Milton, who neither of them 
 wanted either genius or learning to have been perfect 
 poets; and yet both of them are liable to many cen- 
 sures." 
 
 Exception. Abrupt and forcible language dispenses 
 with this rule of harmony, and admits the falling 
 inflection a* a penultimate clause ; thus, 
 " Uzziel ! half these draw off, and coast the south 
 
 With strictest watch; these other wheel the north; 
 
 Our circuit meets full west." 
 
 So also in concise and disconnected forms of ex- 
 pression : 
 
 " But the knowledge of nature is only half the 
 business of a poet: he must be acquainted likewise 
 with all the modes of life." 
 
 GENERAL RULE ON PARENTHESIS. 
 
 The words included in a parenthesis, or between 
 two dashes used as a parenthesis, and any phrase 
 corresponding in effect to a parenthesis, are read with 
 the same inflection as the clause immediately preced- 
 ing them. 
 
 Note. A lower and less forcible tone, and a more 
 rapid utterance, than in the other parts of a sentence, 
 together with a degree of monotony, are required in 
 the reading of a parenthesis. The form of parenthe- 
 sis implies something thrown in as an interruption of 
 the main thought in a sentence. Hence its suppressed 
 and hurried tone ; the voice seeming to hasten over it 
 slightly, as if impatient to resume the principal ob- 
 ject. The same remark applies, with more or less 
 force, to all intervening phrases, whether in the exact 
 form of parenthesis, or not. 
 
INFLECTION. 91 
 
 Examples. 
 
 11 Uprightness is a habii. and. like all other habits, 
 gains strength by time and exercise. If then we ex- 
 ercise upright principles, (and we cannot have them, 
 unless we exercise them.) they must be perpetually 
 on the increase. 7 ' 
 
 "Now I will come unto you. when I pass through 
 Macedoma, (for I do pass through Macedonia:) and 
 it may be that I will abide, yea, and winter with 
 
 ••And this," said he. — putting the remains of a 
 crust into his wallet. — "'and this should have been 
 thy portion." said he, " hadst thou been alive to have 
 shared it with me." 
 
 Exceptions occur when a parenthesis closes with an 
 emphatic word: thus. " If you, Eschines, in particular, 
 were thus persuaded : (and it was no partial affection 
 for me that prompted you to give me np the hopes, 
 the applause, the honours, which attended the course 
 I then advised, but the superior force of truth, and 
 your utter inability to point out any more eligible 
 course:) if this was the case. I say. is it not highly 
 cruel and unjust to arraign those measures now, when 
 you could not then propose any better 1 n 
 
 RULE OX THE CIRCUMFLEX. 
 
 The tone of irony, of equivocal meaning, or of 
 peculiar significance, requires the circumflex. The 
 falling circumflex, in such cases, takes the usual 
 place of the simple falling inflection, and the rising 
 circumflex that of the simple rising inflection ; the ob- 
 ject of this peculiar double turn of voice, being to give 
 a double value to the force of emphasis, and the effect 
 of the slide. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Irony : '-'- Oh ! you ? re well met ! 
 
 The hoarded plague o' the gods requite your love ! " 
 Equivocal meaning, or pun : u Upon this, the 
 
92 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 weights, who had never been accused of light con- 
 duct, used all their influence in urging the pendulum 
 to proceed." 
 
 Peculiar significance : "Mark you his absolute shall? 
 — They chose their magistrate : 
 And such a one as he, who puts his shall, 
 His popular shall, against a graver bench 
 Than ever frown' d in Greece ! " 
 " Let any man resolve to do right now, leaving 
 then to do as it can ; and if he were to live to the 
 age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong." 
 
 RULE ON THE MONOTONE. 
 
 The tones of sublime or grand description, of rev- 
 erence and awe, of horror and amazement, require 
 the monotone. 
 
 Examples. 
 
 Sublime description : " his form had not yet lost 
 
 All her original brightness, nor appear'd 
 Less than archangel ruin'd, and the excess 
 Of glory obscur'd ; as when the sun new risen 
 Looks through the horizontal misty air, 
 Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, 
 In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds 
 On half the nations, and with fear of change 
 Perplexes monarchs." 
 
 Reverence: "And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost 
 prefer, 
 Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, 
 Instruct me, for thou knowest :" — 
 
 Awe : " The thoughts are strange that crowd into my 
 brain 
 While I gaze upward to thee. — It would seem 
 As though God pour'd thee from his hollow hand, 
 And spake In that loud voice which seem'd to him 
 Who dwelt in Patmos, for his Saviour's sake, 
 The sound of many waters, and had bid 
 Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, 
 And notch his centuries in the eternal rock." 
 
INFLECTION. 93 
 
 Horror : "I had a dream which was not all a dream : 
 The bright sun was extinguished ; lad the stars 
 Did wander darkling m the eternal space. 
 Rayless and pathless: and the icy earth 
 Swung blind and blackening In the moonless air;" — 
 
 Amazement : "What may this mean, 
 
 That thou dead corse, again, in complete steel. 
 Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
 Making night hideous ?"* 
 
 ERRORS IN INFLECTION. 
 
 The common errors in inflection, are the following: 
 1st. too frequent repetition oi the rising inflection; 
 thus. 
 
 "As we perceive the shadow to hare moved, but 
 did not perceive its moving: so our advances in learn- 
 ing, consisting of insensible steps, are only perceiva- 
 ble by the distance.'" 
 
 The puerile and feeble tone thus given to the above 
 sentence, will be corrected by substituting the falling 
 inflection on the words ' moved ' and ' learning." which 
 produces a natural and spirited variety oi expression. 
 
 2. The opposite error is not uncommon — that oi 
 using too often the fall 'ins- inflection, which gives read- 
 ing a formal and laboured tone : thus. 
 , "As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but did 
 not perceive its moving: so the advances we make in 
 learning, consisting of insensible steps, are only per- 
 ceivable by the distance." 
 
 The heavy effect oi this reading will be removed by 
 using: the rising inflection at 'moving 1 and •steps." 
 
 * The principle of the monotone seems to be founded on the 
 conviction that no mere vocal distinction, or turn of sound, is ade- 
 quate to express the highest conceptions or the profoundest emo- 
 tions of the soul. The monotone indicates, as it were, the tem- 
 porary inability of the voice for its usual function. This very 
 circumstance, however, as it ultimately associates sublimity 01 
 unwonted excitement, with the utterance of one reiterated note, 
 gives the monotone a peculiar and indescribable power. 
 
94 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 3. A third error consists in omitting the contrasts 
 of inflection in antithesis : thus, 
 
 " Life is short, and art is long." 
 
 " Homer was the greater genius, Virgil the better 
 artist." 
 
 This fault destroys the spirit of the contrast; the 
 effect of which depends entirely on giving opposite in- 
 flections to the words 'short' and 'long,' 'genius' and 
 ' artist,' The more sharply these inflections are pointed 
 against each other, the more vivid becomes the contrast 
 in the sense. 
 
 4. A fourth error is that of drawing up the voice to 
 a note unnecessarily high, in the rising inflection, and 
 consequently of sinking equally low, on the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 The fault thus created is that of an artificial and 
 mechanical style of reading, constituting the chief 
 difference between formal tones and those which are 
 natural. This defect may be exemplified by reading 
 the following sentences with the tones of question and 
 answer, at the places which are designated by the 
 rising and failing inflections. 
 
 " As the beauty of the body always accompanies 
 the health of it, (?) so is decency of behaviour a con- 
 comitant of virtue." 
 
 " Formed to excel in peace as well as in war, (?) 
 Caesar possessed many great and noble qualities." 
 
 This fault would be, removed by substituting, for the 
 excessive rising slide, the moderate inflection of sus- 
 pended sense, which rises but little above the current 
 level of the voice; as may be observed by contrasting 
 the artificial slides of what is sometime stigmatized as 
 a 'reading' tone, with the natural and easy turns of 
 conversation. 
 
 5. A fault still more objectionable than any that 
 has been mentioned, is that of using the circumflex 
 instead of the simple inflecions, especially in con- 
 trasts. 
 
 This error is exemplified in the peculiar local accent 
 
INFLECTION. 95 
 
 of New England ; thus, Abel was a keeper of sheep, 
 but Cain was a tiller of the ground." 
 
 This faulty tone substitutes double for single inflec- 
 tions. The true reading would be marked thus; 
 : 'Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of 
 the ground. 
 
 The effect of the erroneous inflection, is peculiarly 
 unhappy ; as it forms a tone properly associated with 
 irony, sarcasm, burlesque, punning, and all other forms 
 of ' equivoque,' or with the intention of imparting an 
 unusual significance to a particular word or phrase, as 
 when the speaker or reader is peculiarly anxious to be 
 correctly understood in a nice distinction of sense. 
 The morbid jerk of voice with which emphasis is thus 
 imparted, disturbs the natural current of utterance, by 
 a multiplicity of unnecessary and unnatural angular 
 turnings. The true melody of speech is thus lost in a 
 false and arbitrary intonation, which has no sanction 
 but the accidental prevalence of a local custom. 
 
 The source of the above error being an undue 
 anxiety about emphasis, the fault in accent would be 
 cured by adhering strictly to simplicity and directness 
 in emphatic expression, and' using the single rising and 
 falling inflections in all cases of ordinary antithesis or 
 simple force of utterance. 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE.^ 
 
 It is not unusual with learners to experience a difii- 
 culty in discriminating between the rising and the 
 falling inflection in certain passages. The pupil may, 
 in such cases, be required to throw the given clause 
 into the form of a question, so as to catch more readily 
 the distinction to be made in correct reading. 
 
 In the sentence, " Life is short, and art is long," 
 the question would run thus, "Must I say, Life is 
 short? or Life is short?" — the slide which is wanted, 
 occurs not in the latter, but in the former tone. — If the 
 pupil still finds it difficult to apply the true inflection, 
 
 *The remarks under this head, though primarily designed for 
 the assistance of teachers of young pupils, may prove useful as aids 
 to the correction of personal faults in adults. 
 
96 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 he may repeat the former question, " Must I say, 
 Life is short? " and immediately say, in the same tone 
 of voice, u Life is short." (?) 
 
 When the learner is in doubt as to which inflection 
 he has actually used in practice, the question may be, 
 " Did I say, Life is short? or Life is shdrt?"— If the 
 slide which was adopted, echoes to the latter of these 
 questions, the wrong inflection was given; and the 
 example should be repeated with nearly the tone which 
 would be employed in asking the question, "Must I 
 say, Life is short?" — the interrogatory part of which 
 the pupil may put to himself mentally, reading aloud 
 only the words, " Life is short." 
 
 This point of discrimination is very important ; and 
 the table of contrasted inflections should be diligently 
 practised, till every example can be readily and cor- 
 rectly given. 
 
 The fault of using one inflection uniformly, and that 
 of overdoing both inflections, enumerated on a pre- 
 ceding page, as the 1st, 2d, and 4th errors of common 
 usage, may be removed by selecting a passage of 
 familiar narrative, and requiring the pupil to shut the 
 book occasionally, and address the language to the 
 teacher, as using it in conversation with him. 
 
 Exercises such as this become doubly important, 
 in consequence of the mechanical methods usually 
 adopted in teaching the elements of reading, and the 
 utter want of adaptation to their purposes, in the books 
 commonly employed in this department of education. 
 Reading books, it is true, have, within a few years, 
 undergone great improvements in this respect. But 
 most are still quite defective in this particular, that 
 they contain what adults wish to inculcate on children, 
 and not what children naturally incline to express. 
 
 Many current books of this description, are too 
 formal and artificial; and many, if not most of the 
 pieces which they contain, actually require those forced 
 and didactic tones which prematurely ruin the elocu- 
 tion of boys, and prevent the possibility of a natural 
 eloquence in men. 
 
 Similar results follow the equally absurd practice 
 of making young boys 'declaim' from political ha- 
 
INFLECTION. 97 
 
 rangues, anniversary orations, and even from didactic 
 compositions originally delivered from the pulpit. 
 These are the productions of mature minds, and may 
 form very good speaking exercises for adults ; but boys 
 can never practise them without contracting false or 
 affected tones. 
 
 The constant use of the ' circumflex,' or ' wave,' 
 seems, as already mentioned, to mark universally the 
 local tone of emphasis in New England, as contradistin- 
 guished from the customary mode of utterance in all 
 other parts of the world in which the English language 
 prevails. Accidents of local usage are necessarily 
 entailed on the youth of a community, in the inter- 
 course of domestic and social life. A good education, 
 however, should always secure an exemption from 
 local peculiarities of intonation. Hence the importance 
 of an early formation of correct habit, in this as well 
 as in other departments of elocution. 
 
 The most efficacious practice for removing the fault 
 complained of above, is to revert to the tones of ques- 
 tion a id answer for illustrations of simple inflection, 
 and to repeat one or more examples, throwing the first 
 part of each into the shape of a question; thus, "Was 
 Abel a keeper of sheep? " and the latter into the form 
 of an answer to a question such as "What was 
 Cain? " — thus, " Cain was a tiller of the ground." 
 
 The wrong inflection having been thus displaced, 
 the simple inflections should be reduced from the 
 peculiar notes of question and answer to the appro- 
 priate moderate slides of contrast 
 9 
 
93 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Condudi?7g Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 
 
 The work of Dr. James Rush on the Philosophy of 
 the Voice, gives a masterly analysis of the vocal phe- 
 nomena denominated by him the 'slide' and the 
 'wave/ and by previous writers on elocution usually 
 designated as ' inflection" and ' circumflex.'* But Ur. 
 Rush's object being an exhibition of the philosophy 
 of the voice, and not of the practical rules of the art of 
 reading, the teacher will still derive important aid from 
 Mr. Walker's treatise entitled Elocution, as well as 
 from his Rhetorical Grammar. 
 
 The rules laid down in these works by that eminent 
 authority, however, will be found, in the department 
 of inflection, both complex and artificial. This part 
 of Mr. Walker's system of instruction, has been justly 
 complained of by subsequent teachers. Mr. Sheridan 
 Knowles, in his Elocutionist, speaks of a clearer and 
 simpler view of this subject as one of the most desir- 
 able aids to instruction in reading; and he has himself 
 successfully attempted a great reduction of the number 
 of rules on the rising inflection. The late Rev. Dr. 
 Porter of Andover. has. in his xlnalysis of Rhetorical 
 Delivery, very justly indicated the unnecessary com- 
 plexity of Walker's rules of inflection, applied to the 
 reading of series of words and clauses, and has, in his 
 own treatise, given to the principle of the falling 
 inflection more prominence and simplicity of exposi- 
 tion, than any preceding writer on the subject of 
 elocution. 
 
 The views of inflection which have been submitted 
 in the present work, under the head of : rules on the 
 falling inflection' will be found, it is hoped, to place 
 the subject in a clearer light than hitherto, by tracing 
 rules to principles, and thus simplifying the theory of 
 elocution, and facilitating the processes of instruction 
 and practice. The student who is once put in posses- 
 sion of a principle, soon acquires a perfect facility in 
 applying it as a rule, and is enabled to dispense with 
 special instruction and directions. 
 
 The two great principles which seem to regulate the 
 
INFLECTION. 99 
 
 application of the falling inflection, or downward slide 
 of the voice, are force and completeness of expression. 
 From those are deduced all special rules of reading, in 
 given passages : and. with a right apprehension of 
 these, the student will, in a short time, acquire a perfect 
 facility, as well as precision, in all the uses of this slide, 
 so as to be able to read, extempore, with propriety and 
 effect, all sentences which derive their charac er or 
 significance from this modification of the voice. 
 
 Teachers who have made themselves familiar with 
 Walker's exposition of inflections; will perceive that 
 the author of the present work has omitted the arbi- 
 trary distinction enjoined in the reading of the : sim- 
 ple'" and the -'compound series/' Walker's direction 
 is to read the former with a certain arbitrary variety 
 of inflection on its component members, for the sake 
 of harmony in sound. Such a mode of reading seems 
 to be utterly at variance with the sreat principle that 
 the meaning of a passage is the key to its intona- 
 tion. 
 
 A series is a succession of particulars, grouped by 
 close connexion in sense, and possessing a temporary 
 correspondence and unity. Unity of inflection, there- 
 fore, must be the natural indication of the unity of 
 tli ought. Variety may. to a mechanical ear. seem, in 
 such cases, an ornament: but true taste would reject 
 it as inappropriate, and as interfering with the higher 
 claims of meaning. It is the writer, and not the 
 reader, who is responsible, in such circumstances, 
 for the comparative want of variety and harmony in 
 sound. 
 
 There seems to be. however, a positive objection to 
 variety of inflection on the successive members of the 
 series : and it is this. To read a long series with the 
 variety prescribed by Walker, it is necessary that the 
 reader should know beforehand the exact number of 
 words contained in it. that he may give the right in- 
 flection to each, according to its numerical position. 
 But how can this be done without stopping to count 
 them ? If such a rule is to be observed, there can be 
 no such thing as correct unpremeditated reading. 
 
 The following may be taken as a specimen of the 
 
100 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 application of the arbitrary rules to which these ob- 
 jections have been made. 
 
 "Mr. Locke's definition of wit comprehends meta- 
 phors, enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, dreams, vis- 
 ions, dramatic writings, burlesque, and all the methods 
 of allusion." 
 
 Studied variety, and artificial beauty, are no part of 
 true refinement : they spring from the pedantry of 
 taste. 
 
 Dr. Porter, in his Analysis, very justly observes : 
 "All Walker's rules of inflection, as to a series of 
 single words, when unemphatic, are worse than use- 
 less. No rule of harmonic inflection that is indepen- 
 dent of sentiment, can be established without too much 
 risk of an artificial habit ; unless it be this one, that 
 the voice should rise at the last pause before the ca- 
 dence, and even this may be superseded by em- 
 phasis." 
 
 The following passage from Mr. Walker, furnishes a 
 striking instance of the inconsistencies into which the 
 mind is sometimes betrayed by an overweening attach- 
 ment to system. " These rules " (on inflection) " might 
 be carried to a much greater length ; but too nice an 
 attention to them, in a long series, might not only be 
 very difficult, but give an air of stiffness to the 'pronun- 
 ciation, wkich would not be compensated by the propri- 
 ety." But in the very next sentence — "It may be 
 necessary, however, to observe that, in a long enumera- 
 tion of particulars, it would not be improper to divide 
 them into portions of three" " and this division ought 
 to commence from the end of the series ! " 
 
 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 
 TABLE OF INFLECTIONS USED IN CONTRAST.* 5 
 
 1. Does he mean honestly, or dishonestly? 
 
 2. Did he say humour, or humour ? 
 
 * The above table is designed to facilitate the acquisition of the 
 two principal slides. The exercise should be practised till the 
 
INFLECTION. 101 
 
 3. Was he to say amber, or amber ? 
 
 4. Ought he to say ocean, or ocean? 
 
 5. Did you say eel, or eel 1 
 
 6. He does not mean dishonestly, but honestly. • 
 
 7. He did not say humour, but humour, 
 
 8. He was not to say amber, but amber. 
 
 9. We ought not to say ocean, but ocean. 
 
 10. You did not say eel, but eel. 
 
 11. He means honestly, not dishonestly.^ 
 
 12. He said humour, -not .humour. 
 
 13. He was to say amber, not amber. 
 
 14. We ought to say ocean, not ocean. 
 
 15. You said eel, not eel. 
 
 16. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men. 
 
 17. Not that I loved Caesar less, but Rome more. 
 
 18. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, 
 But speak all good you can devise of Caesar. 
 
 19. Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead 
 So well as Brutus living. 
 
 20. I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
 But for the general. 
 
 21. It was an enemy, not a friend, who did this. 
 
 22. This is the argument of the opponents, and not 
 of the friends, of such a measure. 
 
 23. Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow. 
 
 24. I am glad rather than sorry that it is so. 
 
 25. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
 
 26. 1 rather choose 
 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
 Than I will wrong such honourable men. 
 
 student can discriminate and apply them with perfect exactness.. 
 Young learners will be aided by the practice of marking, with a 
 pencil, those of the examples which are left unaccented, — previous 
 to which exercise it may be useful to review Rule II. on the falling, 
 and Rule I. on the rising inflection. 
 
 * Some learners, in practising this class of examples, may need 
 to be guarded against the fault of turning the last inflection of 
 these sentences into a circumflex, in the mode of New-England 
 accent. 
 
 9* 
 
102 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISES ON THE FALLING INFLECTION. 
 
 Rule I. 
 
 Calling, shouting, exclamation, energetic command : 
 
 1. Up drawbridge, groom ! What, warder, hd ! 
 Let the portcullis fall ! 
 
 2. Liberty ! freedom ! Tyranny is dead ! 
 
 Run hence ! proclaim, cry it about the streets. 
 
 3. Follow your spirit; and upon this charge, 
 
 Cry — God for Harry !* England! and St. George! 
 
 4. Rejoice ! you men of Angiers, ring your bells: 
 King John, your king and England's, doth ap« 
 
 proach, — 
 Open your gates, and give the victors way ! 
 
 5. Arm, arm !f it is, it is the cannon's opening roar! 
 
 6. War ! war ! no peace ! peace is to me a war. 
 
 7. The combat deepens : — On, ye brave 
 Who rush to glory or the grave ! 
 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, 
 And charge with all thy chivalry. 
 
 8. On them, hussars ! in thunder on them wheel! 
 
 9. To horse, you gallant princes ! straight to horse ! 
 
 10. Then let the trumpet sound 
 
 The tucket-sonance, and the note to mount. 
 
 Indignant or reproachful address : 
 
 1. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward, 
 Thou little valiant, great in villany ! 
 Thou ever strong upon the stronger side * 
 
 * The examples not accented in type, are meant to be marked 
 by the learner. 
 
 f The inflection on the repeated word, is on a lower note than the 
 first. ; the first has a more moderate fall ; and the pause between 
 the exclamatory words, is very slight, as the tone is that of agita* 
 lion, hurry, and alarm. 
 
INFLECTION. 103 
 
 Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
 But when her humorous ladyship is by 
 To teach thee safety. 
 
 2. But oh ! 
 
 What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop, thou cruel, 
 Ungrateful, savage, and inhuman creature ! 
 Thou that didst bear the keys of all my counsels, 
 That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, 
 That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, 
 Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use? 
 
 Challenge and defiance: 
 
 1. Who says this? 
 
 Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head? 
 
 2. Pale, trembling coward, there I throw my gage, — 
 By that and all the rights of knighthood else, 
 Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 
 What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. 
 
 3. Then, Boiingforoke, as low as to thy heart, 
 Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liesi. 
 
 Swearing, adjuration, imprecation: 
 
 1. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot. 
 
 2. Seven, by these hilts, or I 'm a villain else. 
 
 3. By the elements, 
 
 If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, 
 He is mine or I am his. 
 
 4. You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
 Or, by the gods, this speech were else your Last, 
 
 -When night 
 
 Closes round the ghastly fight, 
 
 If the vanquish'd warrior bow, 
 
 Spare him : — by our holy vow, 
 
 By our prayers and many tears, 
 
 By the mercy that endears 
 
 Spare him : — -he our ] ove hath shar'd :- 
 
 Spare him, as thou wouldst be spared ! 
 
104 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 6. I conjure you by that which you profess, 
 (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me: 
 Though you untie the winds, and let them fight 
 Against the churches ; though the yesty waves 
 Confound and swallow navigation up; 
 Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blow** 
 
 down ; 
 Though castles topple on their warders' heads ; 
 Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
 Their heads to their foundations ; though the 
 
 treasure 
 Of nature's germins tumble all together, 
 Even till destruction sicken, — answer me 
 To what I ask you. 
 
 7. Ruin seize thee, ruthless king I 
 Confusion on thy banners wait ! 
 
 8. Accursed be the faggots that blaze at his feet t 
 Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to 
 
 beat! 
 
 9. Beshrew thy very heart ! 
 
 I did not think to.be so sad to-night, 
 As this hath made me. 
 
 10. Perish the man whose mind is backward now I 
 
 11. And when 1 mount, alive may I not light, 
 If I be a traitor or unjustly fight ! 
 
 12. Heaven bear witness ; 
 
 And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, 
 Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful f 
 
 Accusation : 
 
 1. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true: 
 That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand 
 
 nobles, 
 In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ; 
 The which he hath detain'd for base employments 
 Like a false traitor and injurious villain ; 
 That all the treasons, for these eighteen years, 
 Complotted and concocted in this land, 
 
INFLECTION. 105 
 
 Fetch from false Mowbray their chief spring and 
 head. 
 
 2. And thou, sly hypocrite ! who now wouldst seem 
 Patron of liberty, who more than thou 
 Once fawn'd and cring'd, and servilely ador'd 
 Heaven's awful monarch ? 
 
 Assertion, declaration, affirmation, assurance : 
 
 1. As I do live, my honour' d lord, 'tis true. 
 
 2. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are 
 the contrivers of your own ruin. 
 
 3. I tell you though you, though all the world, 
 though an angel from heaven, should declare the truth 
 of it. I could not believe it. 
 
 4. When I behold those manly feelings darkened by 
 ignorance, and inflamed by prejudice, and blinded by 
 bigotry, I will not hesitate to assert, that no monarch 
 ever came to the throne of these realms, in such a spirit 
 of direct, and predetermined, and predeclared hostility 
 to the opinions and wiches of the people. 
 
 5. And by the honourable tomb he swears, 
 That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones, 
 And by the royalties of both your bloods, 
 Currents that spring from one most gracious head> 
 And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, 
 
 And by the worth and honour of himself, — 
 Comprising all that may be sworn or said ; 
 His coming hither hath no farther scope 
 Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
 Enfranchisement immediate on his knees : 
 Which on thy royal party granted once, 
 His glittering arms he will commend to rust, 
 His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
 To faithful service of your majesty. 
 
 6. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, 
 And breath of life, I have no life to breathe, 
 What thou hast said to me. 
 
106 % 
 
 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Threatening and warning : 
 
 1. If thou speak' st false, 
 
 Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive 
 Till famine cling thee. 
 
 2. But, sirrah, henceforth 
 
 Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 
 Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, 
 Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
 As will displease you. 
 
 3. Return to thy dwelling, all lonely return ; 
 
 For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it 
 
 stood, 
 And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing 
 
 brood. 
 
 4. And if you crown him, let me prophesy — 
 The blood of English shall manure the ground, 
 And future ages groan for this foul act ; 
 Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, — 
 Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, 
 
 Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd 
 The field of Golgotha. 
 
 Denial, contradiction, refusal: 
 
 1. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him 
 He never did encounter with Glendower. 
 
 2. Cassius. I am a soldier, I, 
 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. 
 
 Brutus. Goto: you're not, Cassius. 
 
 Cas. I am. 
 
 Bru. I say you are ndt. 
 
 3. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, 
 Nor no man's lord : I have no name, no title, - 
 No, not that name was given me at the font,-- 
 But 'tis usurped. 
 
 -I '11 keep them all ; 
 
 -he shall not have a Scot of them 
 
 No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. 
 
INFLECTION. 107 
 
 Earnest intreaty, appeal, remonstrance, expostulation: 
 1. O God of battles I steel my soldiers 7 hearts ! . 
 
 ■Not to-day.- 
 
 Oh ! not to-day, — think not upon the fault 
 My father made in compassing the orown! 
 
 2. A s rm, arm, you heavens ! against these perjur'd 
 
 kings ! 
 A widow cries, be husband to me, heavens ! 
 Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
 Wear out the day in peace ; but ere sunset, 
 Set armed discord, 'twixt these perjur'd kings i 
 Hear me, oh ! hear me ! 
 
 3. Question your royal thoughts, make the case 
 
 yours ; 
 Be now the father, and propose a son ; 
 Hear your own dignity so much profan'd ; 
 See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted ; 
 Behold yourself so by a son disdain' d ; 
 And then imagine me taking your part, 
 And in your power so silencing your son. 
 
 Exhortation, invitation, temperate command: 
 
 1. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once 
 
 more; 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead. 
 
 2. -Stoop, Romans, stoop. 
 
 And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood; 
 Then walk ye forth, even to the market-place ; 
 And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, 
 Let 's all cry peace ! freedom ! and liberty ! 
 
 3. Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come ! 
 Where the violets lie may be now your home. 
 Ye of the rose lip, and the dew-bright eye, 
 And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! 
 With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay 
 Come forth to the sunshine, — I may not stay. 
 
 4. Come away, servant, come : I am ready now ; 
 Approach, my Ariel ; come ! 
 
108 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 5. Go, make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea j 
 Be subject to no eye but mine ; invisible 
 
 B To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape, 
 And hither come in 't : hence, with diligence I 
 
 Admiration and adoration : 
 
 1. The stars are forth, — the moon above the tops 
 Of the snow-shining mountains. Beautiful ! 
 
 2. These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good, 
 Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, 
 
 Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous 
 
 then ! 
 Unspeakable I who sitt'st above these heavens, 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 Midst these thy lowest works ! 
 
 3. Thou glorious mirror ! where the Almighty's form 
 Glasses itself in tempests. 
 
 4. And I have lov'd thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
 
 Of youthful sports, was on thy breast to be 
 Borne, like thy bubbles, onward ; — from a boy 
 
 I wantoned with thy breakers, — they to me 
 Were a delight. 
 
 5. And this is in the night ! Most glorious night I 
 
 Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be 
 A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — 
 A portion of the tempest and of thee ! 
 How the. lit lake shines ! — a phosphoric sea; — 
 And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! 
 
 G. What a piece of work is man ! how noble in 
 reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in form and moving, 
 how express and admirable ! In action, how like an 
 angel ! in apprehension, how like a god ! 
 
 7. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters : the 
 God of glory thundereth : the Lord is upon many 
 waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful ; the voice 
 of the Lord is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord 
 breaketh the cedars: yea, the Lord breaketh the 
 
INFLECTION. 109 
 
 cedars of Lebanon. The voice of the Lord shaketh 
 the wilderness; the Lord shaketh the wilderness of 
 Kadesh. 
 
 EXERCISES ON RULE IL 
 
 See Table of Contrasted Inflections. 
 
 EXERCISES ON RULE III. 
 
 See Rule III. 
 
 EXERCISES ON RULE IV. 
 
 Complete thought in sentences : 
 
 1. The flowers strewed on the grave of merit, are 
 the best incense to living worth. 
 
 2. A cheerful mind is not only disposed to be affa- 
 ble and obliging, but raises the same good humour in 
 those who come within its influence. 
 
 3. It is one great advantage of classical studies, 
 that, in acquiring the languages of Greece and Rome, 
 we insensibly contract an acquaintance with some of 
 the most illustrious characters of antiquity, and are 
 partially admitted into their venerable society. 
 
 Complete thought in clauses : 
 
 1. Let your companions be select; let them be such 
 as you can love for their good qualities, and whcse 
 virtues you are desirous to emulate. 
 
 2. I observed that those who had but just begun to 
 climb the hill, thought themselves not far from the 
 top; but, as they proceeded, new hills were continu- 
 ally rising to their view; and the summit of the high- 
 est they could before discern, seemed but the foot of 
 another : till the mountain, at length, appeared to lose 
 itself in the clouds. 
 
 3. This sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a 
 very little part of the grand machine of the universe ; 
 every star, though no bigger in appearance than the 
 
 10 
 
110 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 diamond that glitters on a lady's ring, is really a vast 
 globe, Uke the sun in size and in glory; no less spa- 
 cious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of 
 the day : so that every star is not barely a world, but 
 the centre of a magnificent system ; has a retinue of 
 worlds irradiated by its beams, and revolving round 
 its attractive influence, — all which are lost to our 
 sight in unmeasurable wilds of ether. 
 
 Exceptions in poetry. 
 
 1. The fisher is out on the sunny sea ; 
 
 And the reindeer bounds o'er the pasture free; 
 And the pine has a fringe of softer green, 
 And the moss looks bright, where my foot hath 
 been. 
 
 2. From the streams and founts I have loos'd the 
 
 chain ; 
 They are sweeping on to the silvery main, 
 They are flashing down from the mountain brows, 
 They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, 
 They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves ; 
 And the earth resounds with the joy of waves ! 
 
 Concluding series : 
 
 1. The spirit of true religion breathes gentleness 
 and affability. 
 
 2. Industry is the law of our being: it is the 
 demand of nature, of reason, and of God. 
 
 3. You have a friend continually at hand, to pity, 
 to support, to defend, and to relieve you. 
 
 4. The characteristics of chivalry, were valour, 
 humanity, courtesy, justice, and honour. 
 
 5. Mankind are besieged by war, famine, pesti- 
 lence, volcano, storm, and fire. 
 
 6. A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, 
 assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, 
 defends resolutely, and continues a friend unchange- 
 ably. 
 
INFLECTION. Ill 
 
 7. True gentleness teaches us to bear one another's 
 burdens, to rejoice with those who rejoice, to weep 
 with those who weep, to please every one his neigh- 
 bour for his good, to be kind and tender-hearted, to be 
 pitiful and courteous, to support the weak, and to be 
 patient towards all men. 
 
 Exceptions, in poetry, to the prevalence of the fall- 
 ing inflection : 
 1. In the hues of its grandeur sublimely it stood 
 O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood. 
 
 2. About me round I saw, 
 
 Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, 
 And liquid lapse of murmuring streams. 
 
 3. Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come 
 Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, 
 And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm ; 
 A wilderness of sweets. 
 
 . 4. Sadden mind arose 
 
 In Adam not to let the occasion pass 
 Given him by this great conference, to know 
 Of things above this world, and of their being 
 Who dwell in heaven, whose excellence he saw 
 Transcend his own so far; whose radiant forms, 
 Divine effulgence ; whose high power so far 
 Exceeded human. 
 
 The answer to a question : 
 I. Hamlet. Hold you the watch to-night? 
 All* We dd, my lord. 
 Ham. Arm'd, say you? 
 All. Arm'd, my lord. 
 Ham. From top to toe ? 
 All. My lord, from head to foot. 
 Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you? 
 Hor. Most constantly. 
 Ham. Staid it long ? 
 
 Hor. While one, with moderate haste, might 
 tell a hundred. 
 
 * Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus. 
 
112 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 2. Hamlet. Good sir, whose powers are these? 
 Captain. They are of Norway, sir. 
 
 Ham. How purpos'd sir, 
 
 I pray you? 
 Cap. Against some part of Poland. 
 Ham. Who 
 
 Commands them, sir? 
 Cap. The nephew of old Norway, Fortinbras. 
 
 3. Show men dutiful ? 
 
 Why so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why so didst thou : Come they of noble family? 
 Why so didst thou: Seem they religious? 
 Why so didst thou. 
 
 Latter member of an antithesis of equal force in 
 its constituent parts : 
 
 1. Says he this in jest or in earnest. . 
 
 2. Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
 
 That mutters deep and dread, 
 Or echoes from the groaning ground, 
 
 The warrior's measur'd tread? 
 Is it the lightning's quivering glance, 
 
 That from the thicket streams, 
 Or do they flash on spear and" lance, 
 
 The sun's retiring beams? 
 
 3. Caesar was celebrated for his great bounty and 
 generosity; Cato for his unsullied integrity: the former 
 became renowned by his humanity and compassion ; an 
 austere severity heightened the dignity of the latter. 
 Caesar was admired for an easy, yielding temper ; Cato 
 for his immovable firmness. 
 
 4. The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in dis- 
 cerning the true merit of a work ; the power of cor- 
 rectness, in rejecting false pretensions to merit. 
 Delicacy leans more to feeling; correctness more to 
 reason and judgment. The former is more the gift 
 of nature; the latter, more the product of culture 
 and art. 
 
 5. Homer was the greater genius; Yirgil, the better 
 artist: in the one we more admire the man; in the other, 
 
INFLECTION. 113 
 
 the work. Homer hurries us with a commanding 
 impetuosity ; Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. 
 Homer scatters with a generous profusion ; Virgil be- 
 stows with a careful magnificence. Homer, like the 
 Nile, pours out his riches with a sudden overflow; 
 Virgil, like * a river in its banks, with a constant 
 stream. 
 
 EXERCISES ON THE RISING INFLECTION. 
 
 Rule I. 
 
 Questions which may be answered by Yes or No. 
 
 1. : Is this then worst? 
 
 Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? 
 
 2. while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
 
 Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
 The signal to ascend, sit lingering here, 
 Heaven's fugitives ; and for their dwelling-place 
 Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, 
 The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
 
 By our delay ? 
 
 3. Is there any one who will seriously maintain 
 *hat the taste of a Hottentot or a Laplander, is as 
 delicate and as correct as that of Longinus or an Ad- 
 dison? or that he can be charged with no defect or 
 incapacity, who thinks a common news-writer as 
 excellent an historian as Tacitus ? 
 
 4. Can we believe that a thinking being, which is 
 in a perpetual progress of improvements, and travelling 
 on from perfection to perfection, after having just 
 looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made 
 a few discoveries of His infinite goodness, wisdom, and 
 power, must perish at its first setting out, and in the 
 very beginning of its inquiries ? * 
 
 *In long- sentences of the interrogatory form, the tone becomes 
 rapid and slight in the utterance of the subordinate parts of the 
 question. The reading falls, in such passages, into the manner of 
 parenthesis. This modulation of voice takes place in the above 
 example, at the word ' after,' and continues to the pause at 
 'power.' 
 
 10* 
 
114 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Negative, or less forcible, part of an antithesis : 
 See Table of Contrasted Inflections. 
 
 Condition, supposition, concession : 
 
 1. If the parts of time were not variously coloured, 
 we should never discern their departure or succession. 
 If one hour were like another; if the passage of the 
 sun did not show that the day is wasting; if the 
 change of seasons did not impress upon us the flight of 
 the year, quantities of duration, equal to days and 
 years, would glide unobserved. 
 
 2. Banish gentleness from the earth; suppose the 
 world to be filled with none but harsh and conten- 
 tious spirits; and what-sort of society would remain? — 
 the solitude of the desert were preferable to it. 
 
 3. This, though it may make the unskilful laugh, 
 cannot but make the judicious grieve. 
 
 Exceptions by emphasis : 
 
 1. If there were no other effects of such appear- 
 ances of nature upon our minds, they would teach us 
 humility, — and with it they would teach us charity. 
 
 2. If the sun himself which enlightens this part of 
 creation were extinguished, and all the host of plane- 
 tary worlds which move about him were annihilated ; 
 they would not be missed by an eye that could take in 
 the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain of 
 sand upon the sea-shore. 
 
 3. A young lady may excel in speaking French 
 and Italian; may repeat a few passages from a volume 
 of extracts ; play like a professor, and sing like a siren ; 
 have her dressing-room decorated with her own draw- 
 ing-table, stands, flower-pots, screens, and cabinets; 
 nay, she may dance like Sempronia herself; and yet 
 we shall insist that she may have been very badly 
 educated. 
 
 Comparison : 
 
 1. As cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news 
 from a far country. 
 
INFLECTION. 115 
 
 2. As the door turneth upon his hinges, so doth the 
 slothful upon his bed. 
 
 3. He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like 
 a city that is broken down, and without walls. 
 
 Exception by emphasis : 
 As a madman who casteth firebrands, arrows, and 
 death, so is the man who deceiveth his neighbour, and 
 saith, "Am I not in sport?" 
 
 Connexion : 
 
 1. I am found, said Virtue, in the vale, and illu- 
 minate the mountain : I cheer the cottager at his toil, 
 and inspire the sage at his meditation : 1 mingle in the 
 crowd of cities, and bless the hermit in his cell. 
 
 2. I ranged mountains and deserts for images and 
 resemblances, and pictured upon my mind every tree 
 of the forest, and flower of the valley. 
 
 3. Though Homer lived, as is generally believed, 
 only two or three centuries after the Trojan war, yet, 
 through the want of written records, tradition must, 
 by this time, have fallen into the degree of obscurity 
 most proper for poetry ; and have left him at full lib- 
 erty to mix as much fable as he pleased with the re- 
 mains of true history. 
 
 Exceptions by emphasis : 
 
 1. He called me a poacher and a villain; and col- 
 laring me, desired I would give an account of myself. 
 
 2. If the departing from that measure, should not 
 remove the prejudice so maliciously raised, I am cer- 
 tain that no farther step you can take, will be able to 
 remove it ; and therefore I hope you will stop here. 
 
 Introductory phrase, or incomplete sense : 
 
 1. For some time after my retreat, I rejoiced, like 
 a tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the har- 
 bour. 
 
 2. When the pleasure of novelty went away, I em- 
 ployed my hours in examining the plants which grew 
 in the valley. 
 
116 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 3. That the stars appear like so many diminutive 
 and scarce distinguishable points, is owing to thei 
 
 immense and inconceivable distance. 
 
 » 
 
 4. So little do we accustom ourselves to consider 
 the effects of time, that things necessary and certain 
 often surprise us like unexpected contingencies. 
 
 5. He that is carried forward, however swiftly, by 
 a motion equable and easy, perceives not the change 
 of place, but by the variation of objects. 
 
 6. I was looking very attentively on that sign in 
 the heavens, which is called by the name of the bal- 
 ance, when, on a sudden, there appeared in it an 
 extraordinary light, as if the sun should rise at mid- 
 night. 
 
 7. As I was humouring myself in the speculation 
 of these two great principles of action, 1 could not 
 forbear throwing my thoughts into a kind of allegory 
 or fable. 
 
 8. Having with difficulty found his way to the 
 street in which his decent mansion had formerly 
 stood, his heart became more and more elated at 
 every step he advanced. 
 
 Exceptions by emphasis : 
 
 1. That prejudice will sometimes overcast the 
 clearest judgments, every day's observation furnishes 
 abundant proof. 
 
 2. Addicted to duplicity, even in the earliest years 
 of youth, he willingly devoted his maturer years to 
 every form of baseness and intrigue. 
 
 3. He who had so nobly sustained himself in the 
 darkest hours of adversity, was found unequal to this 
 favourable turn of fortune. 
 
 Co?nm,encing series, — last member : 
 
 1. Dependence and obedience belong to youth. 
 
 2. The young, the healthy, and the prosperous, 
 should not presume on their advantages. 
 
 3. Humanity, justice, generosity and public spirit, 
 are the qualities most useful to others. 
 
INFLECTION. 11T 
 
 4. Metaphors, enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, 
 dreams, visions, dramatic writing, burlesque, and all 
 the methods of allusion, are comprehended under Mr. 
 Locke's definition of wit. 
 
 5. Common calamities and common blessings, fall 
 heavily upon the envious. 
 
 6. A generous openness of heart, a calm deliberate 
 courage, a prompt zeal for the public service, are at 
 once constituents of true greatness, and the best evi- 
 dences of it. 
 
 7. The splendour of the firmament, the verdure of 
 the earth, the varied colours of the flowers, which fill 
 the air with their fragrance, and the music of those 
 artless voices which mingle on every tree; all con- 
 spire to captivate our hearts, and to swell them with 
 the most rapturous delight. 
 
 8. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own 
 hearts and" characters, — to restrain every irregular 
 inclination, — to subdue every rebellious passion, — to 
 purify the motives of our conduct, — to form ourselves 
 to that temperance which no pleasure can seduce, to 
 that meekness which no provocation can ruffle, to that 
 patience which no affliction can overwhelm, and that 
 integrity which no interest can shake ; this is the task 
 which is assigned to us, — a task which cannot be per- 
 formed without the utmost diligence and care. 
 
 9. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a moun- 
 tain, the ornaments of a building, the expression of a 
 picture, the composition of a discourse, the conduct of 
 a third person, the proportions of different quantities 
 and numbers, the various appearances which the great 
 machine of the universe is perpetually exhibiting, the 
 secret wheels and springs which produce them, all the 
 general subjects of science and taste, are what we and 
 our companions regard as having no peculiar relation 
 to either of us. 
 
118 ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 EMPHASIS. 
 
 » 
 
 General Observations. Every sentence contains 
 one or more words which are prominent, and pecu- 
 liarly important, in the expression of meaning. These 
 words are marked with a distinctive inflection; as may 
 be observed by turning to some of the examples in the 
 preceding lesson, — those, in particular, which illus- 
 trate the reading of strong emotion, or of antithesis. 
 The learner will find, on repeating these examples, 
 that the words which are pronounced with peculiar 
 inflection, are uttered with more force than the other 
 .words in the same sentences. This special force is 
 what is called emphasis. Its use is to impress more 
 strikingly on the mind of the hearer the thought, or 
 portion of thought, embodied in the particular word or 
 phrase on which it is laid. It gives additional energy 
 to important points in expression, by causing sounds 
 which are peculiarly significant, to strike the ear with 
 an appropriate and distinguishing force. It possesses, 
 in regard to the sense of hearing, a similar advantage 
 to that of 'relief,' or prominence to the eye, in a well 
 executed picture ; in which the figures seem to stand 
 out from the canvass. 
 
 Emphasis, then, being the manner of pronouncing 
 the most significant words, its office is of the utmost 
 importance to an intelligible and impressive utterance. 
 It is the manner of uttering emphatic words which 
 decides the meaning of every sentence that is read or 
 spoken. A true emphasis conveys a sentiment clearly 
 and forcibly to the mind, and keeps the attention of 
 an audience in active sympathy with the thoughts of 
 the speaker : it gives full value and effect to all that 
 he utters, and secures a lasting impression on the 
 memory. 
 
 Definition. Emphasis, when strictly defined, may 
 be regarded as force of utterance, applied to a partic- 
 ular word or phrase, by unusual energy of articulation 
 on accented syllables. 
 
EMPHASIS. 119 
 
 A*:?te 1. That emphasis is chiefly a peculiar force 
 of a;c;ntj will be apparent from the following illus- 
 trati )ii- Pronounce the word, Begone ! in the tone of 
 fami 'iar and good-humoured expression : then repeat 
 it in the tone of vehement or indignant command. In 
 either case the first syllable of the word is nearly the 
 same as to force. In the former state of feeling, the 
 second syllable has very little more than the usual 
 proportion of accent ; but in the latter, the last sylla- 
 ble becomes vastly more energetic in comparison with 
 the first. The result will be found similar in kind, 
 though less in degree, in sentences which contain the 
 emphasis of distinction or contrast. That emphasis 
 should be to the ear merely a relative force of accent, 
 is a natural consequence of the state of mind which 
 gives rise to this modification of voice. The imme- 
 diate mental cause of emphasis is earnestness, or inten- 
 sity of thought or feeling, which necessarily leads to 
 forcible utterance, or energetic articulation. The em- 
 phatic word is that which embodies. and concentrates 
 this state of mind, for the purpose of expression ; and 
 the accented syllable of such a word, as the determin- 
 ing and significant one, necessarily absorbs the energy 
 of voice. 
 
 Note 2. Emphasis may be termed absoli/te, when it 
 expresses strong emotion, or an idea which does not 
 imply contrast.^ Of the former we have examples in 
 all sudden and forcible or emphatic exclamations, as 
 in the following: u Guds! can a Roman senate long 
 debate which of the two to choose, slavery or death?" 
 Of the latter, (in which from the absence of emotion 
 the force of utterance is of course much more moder- 
 ate,) we may select the tone used in designating, 
 announcing, or particularizing a subject: "It is my 
 design in this paper to deliver down to posterity a 
 faithful account of the Italian ope?^a, and of the grad- 
 
 * " Emphasis is of two kinds, absolute and relative." " Abso- 
 lute emphasis takes place, when the peculiar eminence of the 
 thought is solely — singly considered." Knowles. 
 
 This wider view of emphasis, (and it ought, perhaps, to be ex- 
 tended still more,) seems more just than the restricted application 
 t>f it, as given by Walker. 
 
 See farther on this subject Dr. Porter's Analysis, 
 
120 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ual progress which it has made upon the English 
 stage." 
 
 Emphasis may be called relative, when a comparison 
 of things unequal, or a contrast indicating a preference 
 or preponderance, is implied or expressed. Thus, 
 " My voice is still for war." " A countenance more 
 in sorrow than in anger." 
 
 Emphasis may be termed correspondent or antithetic, 
 when there is a comparison of objects strictly equal, 
 or a contrast not implying preference or preponderance. 
 Thus, " As is the beginning so is the end." "In the 
 one we most admire the man; in the other, the work." 
 
 Emphasis is called single, when a contrast is re- 
 stricted to two points ; as in the following example : 
 " We can do nothing against the truth, but for the 
 truth." 
 
 Double and triple emphases are merely double and 
 triple contrasts. Thus, " Custom is the plague of wise 
 men, and the idol of fools." "A friend cannot be 
 known in prosperity, and an enemy cannot be hidden 
 in adversity." 
 
 " Emphatic phrase," is the designation of a clause 
 in which there are several peculiarly significant or 
 expressive words. "There was a time, then, my fel- 
 low-citizens, when the Lacedemonians were sovereign 
 masters both by sea and land; while this state had 
 not one ship — wo, not — one — wall." "One of the 
 most eminent mathematicians of the age, has assured 
 me that the greatest pleasure he took in reading Vir- 
 gil, was in examining iEneas's voyage by the map; 
 as I question not but many a modern compiler of his- 
 tory, would be delighted with little more — in that divine 
 author — than the bare matters of fact."* 
 
 Rule. Pronounce emphatic words with a clear and 
 decided force, sufficient to render them distinctly 
 
 * An unnecessary distinction is sometimes made in books on elo- 
 cution between the above classes of examples ; the former being 
 termed 'emphatic phrases,' the latter instances of 'harmonic in- 
 flection.' The difference obviously lies in the inflected emphasis 
 applying in the former case to words singly, while, in the latter, it 
 extends to clauses. The difference is that which exists between 
 the simple and the compound series. 
 
 
EMPHASIS. 
 
 121 
 
 prominent, and to impart full energy of feeling, pecu- 
 liar meaning, or marked discrimination. 
 
 Errors. The prevailing fault, as regards emphasis, 
 is the omission or slighting of it. 
 
 Hence arises a feebleness of expression, or a general 
 monotony, in consequence of which the voice fails in 
 giving those distinctions, or conveying that force of 
 feeling, which are inseparable from a distinct and ani- 
 mated manner. 
 
 An omission of emphasis leaves the sense of whole 
 passages obscure; and an error in the application of 
 it, may cause an entire subversion of the meaning in- 
 tended to be expressed. A sentence read without just 
 emphasis, is an inert mass of sound, like a body desti- 
 tute of life : the same sentence read with the discrimi- 
 nation and significance of true emphasis, becomes, as 
 it were, a living and active being, exerting its appro- 
 priate energies. 
 
 The opposite fault is that of excessive anxiety about 
 emphajis, and an unnecessary and formal marking of 
 it, by studied force of expression. 
 
 This obtrusive tone is carefully to be avoided, as 
 savouring of fastidiousness and pedantry, and indica- 
 ting the presumption that the audience are so dull in 
 intellect as not to appreciate the force of the speaker's 
 language, unless he remind them of it by peculiar and 
 pointed distinctions of voice. 
 
 A fault of local usage, prevailing throughout New- 
 England,. is that of giving all emphasis with the tone 
 of the circumflex. 
 
 This peculiarity was mentioned under the head of 
 inflection, and perhaps sufficiently explained to be 
 clearly understood. It is a tone incompatible with 
 simplicity and dignity of expression, and belongs 
 properly to irony or ridicule, — to the peculiar signifi- 
 cance of words and phrases embodying logical or 
 grammatical niceties of distinction, — or to the studied* 
 and peculiar emphasis which belongs to the utterance 
 >f a word intended to convey a pun. This fault would 
 11 
 
122 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 be avoided by giving emphasis with simple inflection, 
 instead of the circumflex. See "Errors in Inflec- 
 tion."* 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 Pupils who fail in force of emphasis, may derive 
 great assistance from an exercise founded on Walker's 
 classification of emphasis, as expressed by the phra- 
 ses 'unaccented,' 'accented,' and 'emphatic' force. 
 The first of these distinctions applies to the degree of 
 force with which we naturally utter particles and other 
 less significant words in a sentence such as the follow- 
 ing: "Exercise and temperance strengthen even an 
 indifferent constitution." The words which in this 
 sentence have only the ' unaccented ' force, are 
 "and," "even," "an." The words which possess 
 the second degree of force, or that which is called 
 'accented,' are "Exercise," "temperance," "strength- 
 en," " constitution." This force they naturally receive 
 as being more significant than the words mentioned 
 above. The highest, or "emphatic" force, belongs to 
 the distinctive word "indifferent," as containing the 
 peculiar meaning of the sentence. These three de- 
 grees of force, if expressed to the eye, in type, would 
 be represented thus : Exercise and temperance strength- 
 en even an indifferent constitution. 
 
 The exercise founded on these comparative degrees 
 of force, is the following. Let the pupil first be per- 
 mitted to read a whole sentence with his usual and 
 perhaps monotonous utterance; then let him be re- 
 quired to repeat the sentence, using the second, or 
 accented, degree of force on all words but particles; 
 
 * The Rev. Dr. Porter's work on elocution, excellent as it is in 
 other respects, seems to sanction this tone in a few instances. See 
 Analysis, p. 84. 
 
 The rising circumflex, however, in the cases alluded to, will be 
 found by an attentive observer to constitute the distinguishing accent 
 of New Ens-land, — not only as differing from the prevailing mode 
 of emphasis in England, but from the current style of expression 
 in other parts of the United States, and imparting to the voice a 
 peculiar and habitual turn of overdone emphasis. 
 
EMPHASIS. 123 
 
 and, lastly, repeating the sentence once more, let him 
 add the highest or emphatic force on the word or 
 words to which it belongs. This exercise should be 
 repeated till the learner has acquired not only the 
 power of discrimination as to these degrees of force, 
 but the habit of expressing them fully and correctly. 
 Mechanical as this exercise may seem, it has a peculiar 
 intellectual value in securing the attention and exer- 
 cising the judgment of young pupils. 
 
 An exercise more strictly mental in its character, will 
 be still more useful, — that of requiring of each pupil, 
 previous to his reading a sentence, a statement of the 
 sentiment in his own words. The object of this exer- 
 cise is to aid in attaining a clear and accurate concep- 
 tion of the meaning, — the true preparation for right 
 emphasis. 
 
 The emphasis of emotion may, in part, be communi- 
 cated from the teacher's own reading, or, to still better 
 advantage, by conversing with the pupils on the piece 
 or passage which is read, so as to bring their minds 
 into the right mood of feeling, by an interest in the 
 subject. 
 
 The faulty emphasis of circumflex may be removed 
 by the discipline of repeated practice on the examples 
 given under the head of inflection, and by expedients 
 adapted to individual cases. Mutual correction by 
 the pupils,* will be very important here, as in all other 
 departments of elocution. 
 
 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 
 
 Absolute emphasis in emotion : 
 
 1. Wo ! wo ! to the riders that trample them down ! 
 
 2. Oh ! joy for her whene'er in winter 
 
 The winds at night had made a rout, 
 And scattered many a lusty splinter, 
 And many a rotten bough about ! 
 
 3. In the deep stillness of the night. 
 
 When weary labour is at rest, 
 How lovely is the scene ! 
 
124 ELOCUTIONIST. - 
 
 4. And when the reapers end the day, 
 
 Tired, with the burning heat of noon, 
 
 They '11 come, with spirits light and gay, 
 
 And bless thee, — lovely harvest moon. 
 
 5. On! on, like a cloud, through their beautiful valea> 
 Ye locusts of tyranny ! blasting them o'er ! 
 
 6. Oh ! what a tale that dreadful chilness told ? 
 
 7. Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 
 In his steep course? 
 
 8. Weep Albyn ! to death and captivity led ! 
 
 In designation : 
 
 1. The vales are thine: — and when the touch of 
 
 Spring 
 Thrills them, and gives them gladness, in thy 
 
 light 
 They glitter, — 
 The hills are thine: — they catch thy newest 
 
 beam, 
 And gladden in thy parting, — 
 Thine are the mountains, — where they purely lift 
 Snows that have never wasted, in a sky 
 Which hath no stain ; — 
 
 The clouds are thine : and all their magic hues 
 Are pencil'd by thee. 
 
 2. But I will not tire my reader's patience by point- 
 ing out all the pests of conversation : nor dwell par- 
 ticularly on the sensible, who pronounce dogmatically 
 on the most trivial points, and speak in sentences ; the 
 wbnderers, who are always wondering what o'clock it 
 is, or wondering whether it will rain or no, or wonder- 
 ing when the moon changes ; the phrasedlogisls, who 
 explain a thing by all that, or enter into particulars 
 with this and that and f other ; and lastly, the silent 
 men, who seem afraid of opening their mouths, lest 
 they should catch cold. 
 
 Relative emphasis : 
 [Repeat the second and third classes of examples 
 in the Table of Inflections, and the examples of un- 
 equal antithesis.] 
 
EMPHASIS. 125 
 
 1. I had rather be a dbg 1 and bay the moon, 
 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 2. Slight are the outward signs of evil thought; 
 Within — within — 'twas there the spirit wrought! 
 
 3. Did I, base wretch! corrupt mankind? 
 The fault 's in thy rapacious mind. 
 
 4. Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? 
 Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
 The bounding steed you pompously bestride, 
 Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. 
 Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain ? 
 The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. 
 Thine the full harvest of the golden year ? 
 Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer. 
 
 5. It is not the scene of destruction which is before 
 him. It is not the Tiber. , diminished in his imagina- 
 tion to a paltry stream, flowing amid the ruins of that 
 magnificence which it once adorned. It is not the 
 triumph of superstition over the wreck of human great- 
 ness, and its triumphs erected on the very spot where 
 the first honours of humanity have been gained. It is 
 ancient Rome which fills his imagination. It is the 
 country of Caesar, and Cicero, and Virgil, which is 
 before him. It is the mistress of the world which he 
 sees, and who seems to him to rise again from her 
 tomb, to give laws to the universe. 
 
 Correspondent and antithetic emphasis : 
 
 [Read the examples and exercises given under the 
 corresponding head, in the lesson on Inflections.] 
 
 1. I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. 
 The latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit 
 of the mind. Mirth is short and transient, cheerful- 
 ness fixed and 'permanent. Mirth is like a flash of 
 lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and 
 glitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of 
 daylight in the mind, and fills it with a steady and 
 'perpetual serenity. 
 
 2. The very actions which they have only read I 
 
 11* 
 
126 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 have 'partly se*en, and pdrtly myself achieved. What 
 they know by reading I know by action. They are 
 pleased to slight my mean birth ; I despise their mean 
 characters. Want of birth and fortune is the objec- 
 tion against me, want of 'personal worth against them. 
 
 Emphatic phrases : 
 
 1. Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the House 
 in a, fev; words what is really my opinion. It is, that 
 the Stamp Act ought to be repealed — absolutely — 
 
 TOTALLY and IMMEDIATELY. 
 
 2. And were I an American, as I am an Englishman, 
 while a single foreign troop remained in my country, 
 I would never lay down my arms : — never — never — 
 
 NEVER. 
 
 PAUSES. 
 
 General Observations. Distinct articulation requires 
 slowness of utterance, or that deliberate succession of 
 sounds, which enables the hearer to distinguish them 
 from one another, and thus to make those discrimina- 
 tions in sense, which render what is read or spoken 
 intelligible. Distinctness of speech, however, and 
 clearness of meaning, require still further aid. It is 
 not sufficient that the successive sounds of the voice, 
 in letters and syllables, be kept from running into one 
 another, and blending so as to cause confusion. A 
 due distance must be preserved between those words 
 which are not so closely connected in meaning, as 
 others. The intervals of sound, or cessations of voice, 
 thus produced, are termed pauses. Their effect on 
 the ear, is similar to that of distance between objects 
 in space, to the eye ; aiding, by the unembarrassed 
 action of the organ, the formation of clear and distinct 
 conceptions' in the mind. They separate, in sound, 
 what we wish to separate in sense ; and, they serve, 
 on the other hand, by the length or shortness of their 
 duration, and the comparative interval of sound thus 
 produced, to give us the idea of more or less intimate 
 connexion between the successive parts of thought, 
 as expressed in one or more sentences. 
 
PAUSES. 127 
 
 Pauses may be viewed in another light, — as pro- 
 ducing the effect of grouping or throwing together 
 those words which are most closely connected in 
 meaning. Pausing has thus a double effect, — that of 
 parting those portions of sound which would cause 
 confusion, if united ; and, at the same time, of joining 
 those which would produce an incorrect signification, 
 if separated. The cessation of the voice, therefore, 
 at proper intervals, has the same effect nearly on 
 clauses and sentences with that of articulation on syl- 
 lables, on of pronunciation on words : it serves to 
 gather up the sounds of the voice into relative por- 
 tions, and aids in preserving clearness and distinction 
 among them. But what those elementary and organic 
 efforts do for syllables and words, — the minor portions 
 of speech, — pausing does for clauses, sentences, and 
 entire discourses. The great use of pauses is to divide 
 thought into its constituent portions, and to leave the 
 mind opportunity of contemplating each distinctly, so 
 as fully to comprehend and appreciate it, and, at the 
 same time, to perceive its relation to the whole. 
 Appropriate pauses are of vast importance, therefore, 
 to a correct and impressive style of delivery ; and 
 without them, indeed, speech cannot be intelligible. 
 
 Pausing has, farther, a distinct office to perform in 
 regard to the effect of feeling as conveyed by utter- 
 ance. Awe and solemnity are expressed by long ces- 
 sations of the voice ; and grief, when it is deep, and at 
 the same time suppressed, requires frequent and long 
 pauses. ^_ 
 
 The general effect, however, of correct and well- 
 timed pauses, is what most requires attention. The 
 manner of a good reader or speaker is distinguished, 
 in this particular, by clearness, impressiveness, and 
 dignity, arising from the full conception of meaning, 
 and the deliberate and distinct expression of it ; while 
 nothing is so indicative of want of attention and of 
 self-command, and nothing is so unhappy in its effect. 
 as haste and confusion. 
 
 Definition. Pauses are the intervals produced be- 
 tween words, clauses, sentences, and paragraphs, by 
 
128 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 those divisions of utterance which correspond to the 
 portions of the sense.* 
 
 Note. The frequency with which pauses are to be 
 introduced, cannot be regulated by the grammatical 
 punctuation, which regards the syntactical structure 
 of sentences, rather than the mode of pronouncing 
 them; and which, though it is often coincident with 
 the rhetorical or vocal pauses, is not uniformly so. 
 Thus we have a comma or grammatical stop between 
 the following words in writing: "No, sir" — but none 
 in speaking; — the phrase being pronounced nearly as 
 one word, and producing the same sound to the ear as 
 any word of two syllables, accented on the first. The 
 following example, on the other hand, contains no 
 grammatical stop; yet it requires, in appropriate read- 
 ing, a long rhetorical pause between the words. "He 
 woke * * * to die.''' 
 
 The length of a pause is not dependent on the value 
 of the grammatical stops, as is commonly taught, but 
 on the meaning of what is read or spoken, as emphatic 
 or otherwise, and on the kind of emotion, as naturally 
 slow or rapid in utterance, and as requiring long or 
 short cessations of voice. In equable and calm expres- 
 sion, the pauses are moderate; in energetic language, 
 when didactic or argumentative, the pauses are 
 rendered long by the force of emphasis preceding 
 them ; in strong and deep emotion, they run to the 
 extremes of brevity and of length, as the tone of 
 passion happens to be abrupt and rapid, or slow and 
 interrupted, in utterance. We may rind, accordingly t 
 the pauses made at the same grammatical stop of very 
 different lengths in the same passage, or even the same 
 sentence, according to the turns of thought and feeling 
 indicated by the language. There may be, in fact, as 
 mentioned before, a long rhetorical pause where no 
 grammatical stop could be used. 
 
 Vocal pauses are uniformly the result of emphasis ; 
 
 * The extent to which explanation has been sometimes carrier], is 
 not owing to any intrinsic difficulty in the subject, but to the desire 
 of attracting attention to the nature and importance of particulai 
 branches of elocution, and especially of those in wbkh there is *ha 
 greatest liability to failure. 
 
PAUSES. . 129 
 
 every emphatic word having, as it were, an attractive 
 power, by which it clusters round it more or less of 
 the words preceding or following it; and the cessa- 
 tion of the voice which is called a pause, is bat a 
 natural - and necessary consequence of the organic 
 effort used in uttering such a collection of sounds, 
 embracing, as it always does, one syllable, at least, 
 which demands a great impulse of the organs, and 
 exhausts, in some case's of great energy in language, 
 the supply of breath required for utterance. 
 
 This fact regarding the effect of emphasis on paus- 
 ing, may be traced, though to an extent comparatively 
 moderate, even in the secondary degree of emphasis, or 
 that which Walker has termed accented force. By 
 pronouncing the sentence used as an example of that 
 author's classification of emphasis, it will be found 
 that a pause, distinct and observable, though short, 
 follows every word to which this degree of force 
 belongs, and that each of these words attracts or unites 
 to itself, in pronunciation, the 'unaccented' word or 
 words preceding it : — the same thing would happen 
 with unaccented words following an accented one, but 
 closely connected with it in meaning. " Exercise and 
 temperance strengthen even an indifferent constitu- 
 tion" This sentence, if divided to the eye, in type, as 
 it is divided to the ear by the voice, would run thus : 
 " Exercise and temperance strengthen 
 
 even an indifferent constitution;" or perhaps more 
 strictly thus, " Exercise and temperance strengthen 
 
 evenanindifferentconstitution." 
 
 Whatever holds true, in this respect, of words pos- 
 sessing accented force, is still more strikingly so, when 
 applied to those which are spoken with emphatic 
 force ; as may be observed by making a slight change 
 on the form of the above sentence, so as to introduce 
 the emphatic word where the pause which follows it 
 may become perceptible. Thus, " Even an indifferent 
 constitution is strengthened by exercise and tem- 
 perance," — expressed to the ear thus: " EvenaniN- 
 mFFERENTconstitution isstrengthened hyezef* 
 
 vise andtemperance. 
 
 This sentence forms so short an example, that it 
 
130 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 contains only the minor pauses of discourse, — those 
 which are not expressed at all, in grammatical punc- 
 tuation. But the application of the principle is still 
 more apparent, when the sentences are long and the 
 clauses numerous, and, consequently, the grammatical 
 stops frequent. That emphasis is the key to pausing, 
 will be fully apparent, by reverting to the preceding 
 example, and observing the great length of pause 
 intervening between the nominative and the verb, in 
 this instance, compared to what takes place in the 
 original form of the sentence. 
 
 The meaning and the ear, then, and not the punctu- 
 ation, are to guide us in pausing, — any farther than 
 the latter happens to coincide with the former. Nor 
 will there be any more difficulty thus occasioned in 
 reading or speaking, than there is in conversation, in 
 which, the idea of attending to pauses by any fixed 
 mechanical rule, would be felt to be absurd. All that 
 needs peculiar attention in reading and speaking, as 
 far as pausing is concerned, is this; that the greater 
 force and slowness of utterance naturally required in 
 these exercises, when performed in public, (implying 
 a large space to be traversed by the voice,) and the 
 more regular — perhaps, more formal — phraseology of 
 written language, demand, even in private reading, 
 longer and more frequent pauses than occur in con- 
 versation. Still it is the sense of what is read or 
 spoken, and no arbitrary system of punctuation, that 
 is to guide the voice in this as in all other respects. 
 
 Rule. I. Make the same pauses in reading a sen- 
 tence that would be used in expressing the sentiment 
 which it embodies, if given in the same words in con- 
 versation ; using, however, in declamation, or in public 
 reading, the pause naturally required by the greater 
 energy of utterance. 
 
 This general rule may be applied in detail as fol- 
 lows, in circumstances in which the grammatical stop 
 docs not usually occur* The pause will of course be 
 
 * These subordinate rules are given, — not because they are 
 deemed indispensably necessary, apart from the general rule of 
 
PAUSES. 131 
 
 .vich longer, if, in any case, an emphatic word is sub* 
 stituted for one possessing only accented force. 
 
 1. A slight pause, sometimes called tlte ' rhetorical? 
 {to distinguish it from t/w grammatical pause,) takes 
 place between t/ie principal verb in a sentence, and the 
 word or words which express the subject of the sentence, 
 or form the nominative to the verb, — when the word, if 
 single, conveys an important idea, or when the nomina- 
 tive consists of several words, or is followed by oilier 
 words dependent on w~ 
 
 Examples. 
 
 "The day | (*) has been considered as an image of 
 the year, and a year | as the representation of life. 
 The morning | answers to the spring, and the spring 
 | to childhood and youth : the noon j corresponds 
 to the summer, and the summer | to the strength of 
 manhood. The evening j is an emblem of autumn, 
 and autumn | of declining life. The night j shows 
 the winter, in which all the powers of vegetation are 
 benumbed ; and the winter | points out the time when 
 life shall cease." 
 
 " Hatred and anger j are the greatest poison to the 
 mind." 
 
 " Our schemes of thought in childhood j are lost in 
 those of youth." 
 
 2. A brief phrase occurring between the nominative 
 and the verb, is separated from both by a short pause. 
 
 Ex. u All floats on the surface of that river which 
 I with swift current | is running towards a bound- 
 less ocean." 
 
 pausing- acording to the sense, but from their importance to young- 
 learners, whose eustomary habit of rapidity often prevents them 
 from attending to distinct and appropriate pausing, as a part of the 
 expression of sentiment. The particular applications of the general 
 rule, contained in these subordinate ones, may afford useful practice 
 in connexion with that view of pausing which makes it dependent 
 on emphasis ; and, by the influence of repetition, may suggest 
 analogies in circumstances in which the reader has not enjoyed the 
 advantage of a previous perusal of the piece which he is to read. 
 
 * The pauses which illustrate the rule are indicated by the above 
 mark. 
 
132 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 3. A phrase occurring between an active verb and the 
 word which it governs, is separated as above. 
 
 Ex. " I saw | standing beside me [ a form of 
 diviner features and a more benign radiance." 
 
 4. A phrase occurring between one verb and another 
 which it governs in the infinitive mood, is separated 
 from the latter. 
 
 Ex. "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind | to suffer 
 The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. 
 And by opposing | end them." — 
 
 5. A short pause takes place where the parts of a 
 sentence might be transposed. 
 
 Ex. "The greatest misery is [ to be condemned 
 by our own hearts." 
 
 6. When an adjective follows its substantive, it is 
 parted from it by a short pause. 
 
 Ex. "It was a calculation | accurate to the last 
 degree." 
 
 7. When one substantive is made dependent on 
 another by a preposition, and is followed by other words 
 in close connexion, a short pause takes place before the 
 jireposilion* 
 
 Ex. " I would rather look upon a tree in all its lux- 
 uriance and diffusion | of boughs and branches, than 
 when it is cut and trimmed into a mathematical figure." 
 
 8. Relative pronouns, conjunctions, prepositions, 
 and adverbs, and all other parts of speech used for 
 transition or connexion, are preceded by a short pause. 
 
 Ex. "Nothing is in vain | that rouses the soul to 
 activity." 
 
 " I must be pardoned for this short tribute to the 
 memory of a man | who, while living, would as much 
 detest to receive any thing that wore the appearance 
 of flattery, as I should to offer it." 
 
 "Homer's style* is more simple | and animated; 
 Virgil's* more elegant | and uniform." 
 
 *In qrder to avoid confusion, the rhetorical pause is maiked, in 
 eacn instance, in that place only which exemplifies the rule 
 
PAUSES. 133 
 
 '•'The former has, on many occasions, a sublimity 
 | to which the latter never attains." 
 
 " We were to drag" up oceans of gold | from the 
 bottom of the sea." 
 
 " There is nothing* which we estimate so falla- 
 ciously | as the strength of our own resolutions." 
 
 " What ought to be done j while it yet hangs only 
 in speculation, is plain and certain." 
 
 " His character requires | that he estimate the 
 happiness of every condition." 
 
 9. A short pause takes place at an ellipsis or omis- 
 sion of words. 
 
 Ex. "Homer was the greater genius, Virgil | the 
 better artist." 
 
 Rule II. A full and long pause, — several times the 
 usual length of that of a period, — is required between 
 paragraphs, particularly when these contain important 
 divisions of a subject or a discourse,^, which case 
 they may be properly prolonged to double their own 
 usual length. 
 
 The comparative length of this pause depends on 
 the character of the piece, as grave and serious or 
 familiar and light, and on the length and importance 
 of paragraphs, as principal or subordinate. In general. 
 *it should not be shorter than twice the length of the 
 pause usually made at a period. 
 
 Errors. The common fault in regard to pauses, is 
 that they are made too short for clear and distinct 
 expression. 
 
 Feeble utterance and defective emphasis, along with 
 rapid articulation, usually combine to produce this 
 fault in young readers and speakers. For, whatever 
 force of utterance or energy of emphasis, or whatever 
 rate of articulation we accustom ourselves to use, our 
 pauses are always in proportion to it. 
 
 Undue brevity in pausing has a like bad effect with 
 
 too rapid articulation : it produces obscurity and con* 
 
 fusion in speech, or imparts sentiment in a manner 
 
 which is deficient and unimpressive, and prevents the 
 
 12 
 
134 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 proper effect both of thought and language. To ba 
 fully convinced how much of the clearness, force, and 
 dignity of style, depends on due pauses, we have only 
 to advert for a moment to the effect of rapid reading 
 On a passage of Milton, and observe what an utter 
 subversion of the characteristic sublimity of the author 
 seems to take place. This instance is, no doubt, a 
 strong and peculiar one. But a similar result, though 
 less striking, may be traced in the hurried reading of 
 any piece of composition characterized by force of 
 thought or dignity of expression. 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 When habitual rapidity of voice, and omission of 
 pause, are difficult to correct, the learner may be re- 
 quired to accompany the teacher 1 s voice in the practice 
 of sentences. This simultaneous reading, if suffi- 
 ciently long continued, will probably prove effectual 
 for the cure of habitual faults. A second stage of pro- 
 gress may be entered on, when the learner's improve- 
 ment will warrant it; and he may be permitted to 
 read after the teacher. % 
 
 Pupils who possess an ear for music, may be taught 
 to observe that there is in reading and speaking a 
 ' time,' as distinct and perceptible, and as important, 
 as in singing, or in performing on any instrument; 
 and that pauses are uniformly measured with refer- 
 ence to this time. The poetry of Milton will furnish, 
 in the sonorous flow of its language, the best matter 
 for exercises in regular pausing, that can be found in 
 any English author. But the selection of passages, 
 must, of course, be adapted to the capacity of the 
 reader. 
 
 Exercises in simultaneous reading, embracing en- 
 tire classes, may be useful in teaching large numbers 
 of pupils ; as the necessity of timing the movement of 
 the voice, and regulating the duration of pauses, is in 
 such circumstances fully felt ; and, not unfrequently, 
 an individual who has little control over the rate of 
 his own voice, when reading alone, will gain a great 
 power over it, when acting under the impulse of sym- 
 pathy in simultaneous reading. When this form of 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 135 
 
 practice is adopted, the length of every pause may be 
 determined by a motion of the teacher.^ 
 
 Pieces for practice may be selected as follows : first, 
 for frequent and long pauses, passages from Ossian, or 
 other authors abounding in grand and gloomy descrip- 
 tion ; secondly, for pauses not so frequent or so long as 
 in the preceding style, but still of considerable length, — 
 passages from Thomson's Seasons, or any other de- 
 scriptive poem to which the capacities of learners may 
 be thought adequate. Declamatory pieces in poetry or 
 in prose, may be taken as the next stage of practice ; 
 and didactic discourses, or essays, may succeed to 
 these. In both of these last-mentioned kinds of exer- 
 cise, however, the selection of matter for practice, will, 
 in the case of young pupils, require much attention, 
 lest, from the thoughts and the language being either 
 unintelligible or uninteresting, the reading may be per- 
 formed merely as a verbal exercise, and with those 
 uniform and mechanical pauses which form a promi- 
 nent fault in what is called the 'school-boy' style. 
 Familiar pieces in the narrative and descriptive styles, 
 should form the last stage of practice in this depart- 
 ment. 
 
 TONES AND MODULATION. 
 
 General Observations. The preceding parts of this 
 work refer chiefly to those modifications of voice 
 which are used in the expression of thought, and 
 wh?ch are addressed to the understanding, rather than 
 the feelings. The chief use of inflections, emphasis, 
 
 * Much time must necessarily be spent in training some pupils to 
 just and discriminating- pauses. Carelessness and haste in expres- 
 sion, seem to be natural tendencies of voice, with the young-; and 
 early neglect is so prevalent in whatever regards the exercise of 
 speech, that incorrect habit is fully formed, in most instances, long 
 before the learner has become capable of distinguishing between 
 right and wrong, and their necessary consequences, in this depart- 
 ment of elocution. It becomes important for the teacher, therefore, 
 to commence aird continue his efforts as a reformer rather than an 
 instructor, and to devise and adopt many mechanical expedients 
 which would be unnecessary, but for the existence of erroneous 
 habit 
 
136 
 
 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 and pauses, is to regulate vocal expression, with refer- 
 ence to meaning in general, or the sense of particular 
 words, clauses, and sentences. But there are other 
 qualities of voice to be considered in the full expres- 
 sion of a sentiment, — those which indicate feeling or 
 emotion, rather than intellectual distinctions; and 
 which, though they naturally accompany, with more 
 or less vividness, all our thoughts, yet admit of being 
 considered separately from them, in an analysis or 
 examination of vocal expression. These qualities of 
 voice are comprehended under the name of tones and 
 modulation ; their office is to impart the states of mind 
 corresponding to the emotions of joy, grief, fear, cour- 
 age, anger, hatred, pity, love, awe, reverence, &c. 
 
 In poetical and empassioned language, tones are 
 often the most prominent and the most important 
 qualities of voice ; and to give these with propriety, 
 force and vividness, is the chief excellence of good 
 reading or recitation. The language of prose, being 
 generally less imaginative and exciting, does not 
 require the extent and power of tone used in poetry. 
 But as true feeling is, in both cases, the same in 
 kind, though not in degree, and as no sentiment can 
 be uttered naturally without the tone of its appropri- 
 ate emotion, and no thought, indeed, can arise in the 
 mind without a degree of emotion ; a great impor- 
 tance is attached, even in the reading or speaking of 
 prose composition, to those qualities of voice compre- 
 hended under the name of tones. Without these, utter- 
 ance would degenerate into a merely mechanical pro- 
 cess of articulation. It is these that give impulse and 
 vitality to thought, and which constitute the chief 
 instruments of eloquence. 
 
 Definition. Tones are . those qualities of voice 
 which express emotions considered singly. Modula- 
 tion is the variation of voice in successive tones and 
 consecutive passages. 
 
 Note. Tones may be considered individually or 
 singly, as occurring in particular passages, or pervad- 
 ing a whole piece, when the tenor of the language 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 137 
 
 implies but one prevalent feeling or emotion. Thus, 
 we may take, as an example of a single tone, the 
 strain of utterance prevailing in Milton's L' Allegro, 
 which is that of gaiety, cheerfulness, and mirth, or 
 that of the same author's II Penseroso, which is in 
 the veiii of melancholy, grave musing, and deep con- 
 templation. In either case, the reading or recitation 
 presents to the ear one predominating tone. Compo- 
 sitions, on the other hand, which express a succession 
 of various emotions, call forth a corresponding variety 
 of tones; and the voice may be contemplated in its 
 movements, not only as giving utterance to each of 
 these singly, in an appropriate manner, but as chang- 
 ing itself so as to become adapted to each in succes- 
 sion, and thus assuming, at every stage of feeling, a 
 new character. The varied modulation so produced 
 would be exemplified in Collins's Ode on the Passions, 
 or Dry den's St. Cecilia's Day, — in both of which, the 
 number and variety of emotions introduced, cause a 
 perpetual varying of tone in the reading. 
 
 Single Tones. 
 Every tone may have its chief characteristics 
 classed under the three following heads : force, pitch, 
 and rate. 
 
 1st. Force, — regarding the impulse of sound, and 
 characterizing a tone as loud, faint, or moderate in 
 utterance. 2d. Pitch, — regarding the strain of voice 
 in which words are uttered as on high, low, or middle 
 notes of the musical scale. 3d. Rate, — regarding the 
 utterance or the articulation as rapid, slow t or mod- 
 erate. 
 
 Forcible and loud tones belong to the following and 
 -similar forcible feelings or emotions : joy, courage, 
 admiration, when strongly expressive, — anger, indig- 
 nation, revenge, terror. 
 
 Gentle, soft, or weak tones characterize fear, when 
 not excessive, — pity, love, admiration, in its moderate 
 expression, — tenderness, grief and sorrow, when not 
 excessive, — all of which imply comparative feebleness 
 of feeling. Fear and grief, in excess, become loud. 
 12* 
 
138 ELOCUTfONIST. 
 
 Low notes, as naturally coinciding with deep feeU 
 ing, are the appropriate expression of awe, sublimity, 
 solemnity, reverence, amazement, indignation, anger, 
 when grave and deep. — horror. 
 
 High notes belong to the extremes of joy, and of 
 grief; they characterize the tone of terror; they pre- 
 vail, also, in pathetic and tender expression. They 
 occur, sometimes, in violent anger and in scorn. 
 
 Slowness characterizes the tones of grave and 
 sedate feeling — aice, sublimity, solemnity, reverence, 
 pity, admiration, and grief, when deep and subdued, 
 rather than violent. 
 
 Rapidity marks the tones of excited and agitated 
 feeling, — anger, eagerness, hurry, confusion, fear, ter- 
 ror, joy, and sometimes grief, when strongly ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 The various tones of the voice, if classed in the 
 form of a regular scheme, or table, by their prominent 
 characteristics of force, pitch, and rate, may be ar- 
 ranged thus : 
 
 Loud, high, rapid ; as joy, &c. 
 Soft, low, slow ; as awe, &c. 
 
 Strong emotion inclines to the extremes of tone, in 
 all these qualities. Thus, if we take the tones of 
 revenge and of pity, as examples of the manner in 
 which the preceding classification is applied to single 
 tones, we shall find the former distinguished by loud 
 utterance, a loiv pitch, and a rapid articulation; as 
 may be observed in the following passages : 
 
 "Revenge! revenge!" Timotheus cries ; * * * 
 " Give the vengeance due 
 
 To the valiant crew ! " 
 The tone of pity, on the contrary, has a soft or 
 faint utterance, a high note, and a slow rate. 
 "Swung in his careless hand, she sees 
 (Poor ewe!) a dead, cold weight, 
 The little one her soft, warm fleece 
 So fondly cherish'd late." 
 Moderate emotions, or tranquil states of mind, are 
 distinguished by a moderate force, the middle pitch i 
 and a moderate rate ; as in the following example : 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 139 
 
 * 
 
 " When breezes are soft, and skies are fair, 
 I steal an hour from study and care, 
 And hie me away' to the woodland scene, 
 Where wanders the stream with waters of green; 
 As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink 
 Had given their stain to the wave they drink." 
 
 The same general class of tones, predominates in 
 the reading of common narration or description, in 
 prose. 
 
 " Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw every 
 thing with a new purpose; my sphere of attention 
 was suddenly magnified : no kind of knowledge was 
 to be overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts for 
 images and resemblances, and pictured upon my mind 
 every tree of the forest and flower of the valley. I 
 observed with equal care the crags of the rock, and 
 the pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wandered 
 along the mazes of the rivulet, and sometimes watched 
 the changes of the summer clouds." 
 
 The moderate order of tones prevails also in the 
 style of essays and discourses. 
 
 Successive Tones. 
 
 The tones of the voice are now to, be considered as 
 occurring in succession, according to the various sen- 
 timents introduced in the course of the composition ; 
 and producing that frequent and easy variation of the 
 voice* by which it changes iii force, pitch, and rate, 
 
 * Tone and " modulation " are usually presented as distinct and 
 separate qualities in the management of the voice. This arrange- 
 ment is unfavourable to a natural cultivation of vocal expression. 
 It renders modulation more difficult than it really is, by represent- 
 ing it as necessarily a different thing from tone, an attainment 
 which occurs late in the order of acquisition, and as one for which 
 a young learner is not responsible. Variation of tone being thus 
 neglected in the early stages of instruction and practice, a hard, 
 unmeaning, and wearisome monotony, is unavoidably contracted, 
 which it becomes difficult to throw off, when at last felt to be an 
 evil ; and is, even then, displaced, for the most part, by forced 
 attempts at a rhetorical variety, as far removed from nature and 
 true taste as the measured sameness of school reading. 
 
140 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 accommodating itself to the varying character of the 
 language, giving to every shade of thought and emo- 
 tion its appropriate utterance, and forming a stream 
 of voice which deepens or expands, retards or acceler- 
 ates its current, and shifts its course, according to the 
 varying flow of style. The general tone of reading is 
 thus made to resemble that of free and animated con- 
 versation on interesting subjects. 
 
 The importance of this principle of adaptation of 
 voice, may be perceived by adverting to the fact, that 
 nothing so impairs the effect of address, as the want 
 of spirit and expression in elocution. No gravity of 
 tone, or intensity of utterance, or precision of enun- 
 ciation, can atone for the absence of that natural 
 change of voice, by which the ear is enabled to re- 
 ceive and recognise the tones of the various emotions 
 accompanying the train of thought which the speaker 
 is expressing. These, and these only, can indicate 
 his own sense of what he utters, or communicate it by 
 sympathy to his audience. The adaptation of the 
 voice to the expression of sentiment, is not less im- 
 portant, when considered in reference to meaning, as 
 dependent on distinctions strictly intellectual, or not 
 necessarily implying a vivid or varied succession of 
 emotions. The correct and adequate representation 
 of continuous or successive thought, requires its ap- 
 propriate intonation ; as may be observed in those 
 tones of voice which naturally accompany discussion 
 and argument, even in their most moderate forms. 
 The modulation or varying of tone is important, also, 
 as a matter of cultivated taste ; it is the appropriate 
 grace of vocal expression. It has a charm founded 
 in the constitution of our nature ; it touches the finest 
 and deepest sensibilities of the soul; it constitutes the 
 spirit and eloquence of the human voice, whether re- 
 garded as the noblest instrument of music, or the ap- 
 pointed channel of thought and feeling. 
 
 The pitch of voice which may be referred to most 
 conveniently, as a standard, is that of animated con- 
 versation: The average force of voice may be taken 
 as that which is sufficient for appropriate and intelli- 
 gible utterance. The middle or common rate of artic 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 141 
 
 illation, is that which prevails in moderate emotion. 
 Variation, then, is to be understood as any departure 
 from one or all of these, towards either extreme of 
 utterance, whether loud or faint, high or low, fast or 
 slow, — or as a transition or passing from one extreme 
 to another of one or more of these qualities. Strong 
 emotion will require marked, and great, and, some- 
 times, sudden changes; whilst in moderate emotion, 
 the changes will be slight and gradual. 
 
 The variation required in passing from one degree 
 of force to another, is termed modulation ;* the change 
 from one note or pitch to another, transition; — from 
 one movement to another, as fast or slow, — change of 
 rate. 
 
 The following passage from Collins's Ode will afford 
 a good example of variation. In passing from the 
 tone of Melancholy to that of Cheerfulness, it will be 
 observed that the voice changes from a faint utter- 
 ance, low note, and sloio rate, to a strain which is 
 comparatively forcible, high, and rapid. 
 
 Melancholy : 
 " Through glades and glooms the mingled measure 
 stole, 
 Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 
 Round an holy calm diffusing, 
 Love of peace and lonely musing, 
 In hollow murmurs died away. 
 
 Cheerfulness : 
 But, O ! how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
 When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
 
 Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
 Her buskin's gem'd with morning dew, 
 
 Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket 
 rung ! — 
 The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known." 
 
 The variations which take place in the reading of 
 prose depend, of course, on the variety of the style 
 
 * This term, however, is often used, in a wide sense, for varia* 
 tion in general. 
 
142 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 and the character of the language. In some pieces 
 abounding in varied emotion and figurative expression, 
 the manner being nearly that of poetry, the tones of 
 voice become assimilated to it by vivid and frequent 
 modulation, sudden and great transitions, and a con- 
 tinually varying rate of utterance. From this extreme 
 of style in composition and in expression, we may 
 descend through various stages, till Ave come to the 
 ordinary manner of prose, in which we find plain lan- 
 guage prevailing, but interspersed occasionally with 
 figurative and descriptive passages, which call for 
 variation of tone, in order to produce a natural and 
 appropriate expression. 
 
 The changes which occur in animated narration 
 and description, may be exemplified in the following 
 extract. 
 
 1. "As I was once sailing in a fine stout ship 
 across the banks of Newfoundland, one of the heavy 
 fogs that prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible 
 for me to see far ahead, even in the day time ; but at 
 night the weather was so thick, that we could not dis- 
 tinguish any object at twice the length of our ship. — 
 2. I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant 
 watch forward to look out for fishing smacks, which 
 are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. — 3. The 
 wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were 
 going at a great rate through the water. — 4. Suddenly 
 the watch gave the alarm of ' a sail ahead ! ' but it was 
 scarcely uttered, till we were upon her. — 5. She was a 
 small schooner at anchor, with her broadside towards 
 us. — 6. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected 
 to hoist a light. — 7. We struck her just amid-ships. — 
 8. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel, bore 
 her down below the waves ; we passed over her, and 
 were hurried on our course. 
 
 9. As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, 
 I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches, 
 rushing from her cabin; they had just started from 
 their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. — 
 10. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the 
 wind. — 11. The blast that bore it to our ears swept 
 us out of all further hearing. — 12. I shall never for- 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 143 
 
 get that cry ! — 13. It was some time before we could 
 put the ship about, she was under such headway.— 
 14. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to 
 the place where the smack was anchored. — 15. We 
 cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. — 
 16. We fired several guns, and listened if we might 
 hoar the halloo of any survivors ; but all Avas silent — 
 we never heard nor saw any thing of them more !" 
 
 The principal changes of tone in the appropriate 
 reading of this piece, are the following :— a change of 
 force and rate occurs on leaving the moderate tone 
 with which a narrative generally commences,, and 
 which continues till circumstances of interest are in- 
 troduced. The moderate commencing tone prevails 
 in the first two sentences of the first paragraph, and 
 is succeeded in the third sentence, " The wind was 
 blowing," &c, by a tone of greater force and quicker 
 rate, but not abruptly introduced. This change arises 
 from, the increasing animation and interest of the nar- 
 rative, and corresponds, in force and vivacity, to the 
 nature of the circumstance mentioned in the sentence. 
 
 The next sentence, (4,) " Suddenly the watch gave 
 the alarm," &c., opens with an abrupt and sudden 
 change to the tone of alarm and agitation, which is 
 marked by rapid, forcible, and hurried articulation, 
 and a higher note than that of the preceding sentence. 
 
 The next change is at the clause "but it was 
 scarcely uttered," &c. The voice drops at once to the 
 deep and slow tone of awe and horror, but passes, at 
 the close of the sentence, into the hurried tone of 
 terror. 
 
 In the next two sentences, (5, and 6,) the strain of 
 ordinary narrative is resumed; the tone resembling 
 that used at the commencement of the piece. The 
 voice rises, then, in pitch, and returns to the moderate 
 degrees of force and rate. 
 
 In the short sentence, (7,) "We struck her," &c, 
 the voice assumes the same tone as at the clause, " till 
 we were upon her;" adding the force of particular 
 and earnest description, which gives great intensity to 
 the tone. The change here, then, is from the moderate 
 
144 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 qualities of utterance to great force, low pitch, and 
 comparatively quick rate. 
 
 The change in the next sentence, (8,) is chiefly that 
 to a slower rate ; the voice adapting itself in this way 
 to the dilation of the description. Great energy and 
 the low pitch still prevail. 
 
 At the clause, " we passed over her," &c, the tone 
 varies to one approaching the common manner of nar- 
 rative ; the circumstance introduced being mentioned 
 as one inevitable and necessary. As the associations 
 of the mind, however, are still those of awe and pity, 
 the .utterance is very slow, the pitch inclines to a low 
 note, though higher than before, and the force is mod- 
 erate. A slight acceleration, and increase of force, take 
 place at the ctose, " and were hurried on our course." 
 This, as well as other changes which have been men- 
 tioned, is owing to the natural sympathy of the mind, 
 arising from the interest excited by what is described. 
 Care must always be taken, however, that this mod- 
 erate and natural influence on the tone of the voice 
 be not displaced by exaggeration and false extremes 
 of expression. The utterance of feeling ever requires 
 the exercise of discriminating judgment and true 
 taste. 
 
 The commencing sentence of the second paragraph, 
 (9,) is characterized by a progressive increase of force, 
 a pitch gradually dropping, and a rate of utterance 
 constantly accelerating till the close. This change is 
 produced by the succession of circumstances of awe 
 and terror, heightening from point to point, till they 
 reach a .climax. The tone of terror mingling with 
 awe, as it becomes more and more intense, grows 
 louder, lower, and more rapid in utterance. This 
 tone is necessarily acquired from the sympathy of the 
 mind with the scene presented to it ; unless the read- 
 ing proceeds from a mere mechanical attention to the 
 words rather than the thoughts of the writer. 
 
 The next sentence, (10,) deepens the tone produced 
 by the preceding, and, for the hurried expression of 
 terror, substitutes the sloxo manner of solemnity, and 
 its more moderate utterance as to force. 
 
 The tone changes, in the next sentence, (11,) to a 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 145 
 
 Etrain approaching that of ordinary narration, and 
 resembling very closely that of the clause, " we 
 passed over her," which occurred near the close of 
 the first paragraph. The utterance is, in all respects, 
 moderate, but inclines still to slowness. 
 
 The short sentence that follows, (12,) repeats the 
 tone of that beginning, "I heard their drowning cry," 
 &c., but with still more intensity m all respects; the 
 emotion being that of horror, which is expressed by 
 the greatest depth and force of utterance, uniting with 
 the utmost slowness. 
 
 The ordinary style of serious narrative — that of 
 moderate utterance in all respects — returns at ^he next 
 sentence, (13,) and continues till the phrase, "but all 
 was silent," in the last sentence, (16,) which takes 
 the low notes, slow utterance-, and subdued force of 
 solemnity. The concluding clause contains all these 
 qualities more peculiarly marked, as the emotion 
 passes from solemnity to aive. The emphatic manner 
 of the conclusion, however, implies more energy of 
 utterance than belongs to the preceding clause.'* 
 
 The lively interest of narrative compositions produces 
 more striking and more numerous variations of voice, 
 than are usually required in the style of essays or 
 discourses. But, even in this class of writings, there 
 are frequent and obvious changes of tone, arising from 
 the nature of the thoughts which are expressed, and 
 their connexion and relations in the order in which 
 they are presented to the mind. The following pas- 
 sage may be taken as an example. 
 
 1. "Even looking forward to a single day, the 
 spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the 
 duties, the labours, the trials to temper and patience, 
 that may be expected. — 2. Now this is unjustly lay- 
 ing the burden of many thousand moments upon 
 one. — 3. Let any one resolve always to do light now, 
 leaving then to do as it can ; and if he were to live to 
 
 * The learner will perhaps acquire a more distinct idea of vari- 
 ation by repeating-, in the manner described, the whole extract, 
 before proceeding to other points in this lesson. 
 
 13 
 
146 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong. 
 4. But the common error is to resolve to act righ 
 after breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morning, 
 or next time ; but now, just now, this once, we must go 
 on the same as ever. 
 
 5. It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered 
 person to resolve that the next time he is provoked he 
 will not let his temper overcome him; but the victory- 
 would be to subdue temper on the present provoca- 
 tion. — 6. If, without taking up the burden of the 
 future, we would always make the single effort at the 
 present moment ; while there would at any one time 
 be very little to do, yet, by this simple process con- 
 tinued, every thing would at last be done. 
 
 7. It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to- 
 day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow 
 comes, then will be now. — 8. Thus life passes with 
 many, in resolutions for the future which the present 
 never fulfils." 
 
 The chief modifications of voice in this piece, are 
 as follows. The tone of the first sentence is in the 
 deliberate and distinct manner with which a piece in 
 the didactic style usually commences; the object 
 being generally a clear and correct communication of 
 thought, rather than the expression of emotion; or, 
 at least, the former preponderating in the utterance. 
 In the reading of narrative and descriptive pieces, 
 there is less danger of misapprehension or mistake ; 
 and the greater interest naturally attached to these 
 forms of writing, more readily secures the attention. 
 No effort, therefore, is required on the part of the 
 reader, in commencing a piece, to produce the right 
 effect; and the tone, when appropriate, intimates no 
 anxiety for the result. Didactic compositions, on the 
 contrary, being often designed to express distinctions 
 of thought, to enforce truth, or inculcate opinions, 
 naturally require a more attentive and exact style of 
 reading, distinguished more by distinct enunciation, 
 correct emphasis, and. appropriate pauses, as the nat- 
 ural characteristics of intellectual expression. The 
 tone of didactic reading, therefore, differs from that 
 of narration or description, in commencing with a 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 147 
 
 fuller degree of energy , and a more regular slowness 
 of articulation ; as the very first point in a train of 
 thought is of the utmost importance to a clear and 
 correct conception of the whole, and requires a full 
 and distinct expression. 
 
 The tone of the second sentence differs from that 
 of the first, in commencing on a low strain, and grad- 
 ually rising towards the close, — a tone arising from 
 the argumentative character of the sentence, and its 
 close connexion with the preceding. The same man- 
 ner of commencing prevails in the third and fourth 
 sentences, and also in the opening of the second para- 
 graph, for the same reason as before. This last sen- 
 tence being intended as an illustration or example to 
 the preceding, and thrown in somewhat as a paren- 
 thesis commonly is, — suspending, for a moment, the 
 train of thought, — it is to be read in the parenthetic 
 manner of low note, diminished force, and quicker rate 
 of utterance. 
 
 The second sentence of the second paragraph 
 returns to the general style of thought throughout the 
 piece, and is not so closely connected with antecedent 
 meaning as the sentences which precede it. The 
 tone of voice, therefore, resumes the ordinary strain f 
 of didactic expression, as at the commencement of 
 the first sentence. In passing, accordingly, into this 
 sentence, from the preceding, the utterance becomes 
 higher in 'pilch, is increased in force, and adopts a 
 slower rate. 
 
 The third paragraph commences with a sentiment 
 still more general than that expressed in the preceding 
 sentence. The tone of voice will consequently be of 
 the same character as before, but with an additional 
 degree of each quality. 
 
 The concluding sentence of the extract forms the 
 conclusion of a train of thought, and is read with the 
 tone of a closing remark — on a lower strain of voice, 
 with a forcible though somewhat moderate utterance, 
 and a slow, deliberate movement. These character- 
 istics in the tone are rendered more distinct, in this 
 instance, by the serious and impressive cast of thought 
 introduced in the sentence. 
 
I 
 
 148 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Errors. The common faults, in single tones, are: 
 
 1st. A mechanical unmeaning sameness of voice s 
 which indicates the absence of appropriate feeling, 
 and deprives spoken language of its natural expres- 
 sion, by divesting it of the tones of feeling. 
 
 2d. A want of force and vividness in tone, though 
 otherwise appropriate, — a fault which renders delivery 
 feeble, uninteresting, and unimpressive. 
 
 3d. An excessive force of tone, usually attended by 
 a mouthing or a drawling manner, — a style utterly 
 repugnant to correct taste, and subversive of genuine 
 emotion. 
 
 4th. An habitual and -personal tone, which charac- 
 terizes the individual speaker merely, and is not the 
 appropriate expression of feeling, but rather interferes 
 with and prevents it. 
 
 The first two of these faults would be avoided by 
 entering deeply and fully into the sentiment which is 
 expressed in the language -of the piece read or spoken. 
 This can be done only by giving to it that earnest and 
 steadfast attention, which is required to produce inter- 
 est and sympathy in the mind, — the true source of 
 appropriate and natural tones. 
 
 The third error arises from the habit of allowing 
 the attention to float on the stream of language, in- 
 stead of directing, it to the thoughts expressed in what 
 is read. The harmonious succession of the words, 
 and not the fqjce or beauty of the ideas, becomes 
 involuntarily the object which occupies the mind; 
 and hence arises a measured and rythmical flow of 
 tone, adapted to clauses and sentences according to 
 their sound, rather than their sense. This fault is 
 usually exemplified in the recitation of poetry, or in 
 the speaking of declamatory pieces in prose, and 
 particularly on 'exhibition' occasions, at schools and 
 colleges. This habit of tone would be overcome by 
 directing the attention to the thought as exclusively 
 as possible; — not suffering the mind to linger upon 
 the phraseology, but endeavouring to attune the ear 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 149 
 
 to a style of utterance flowing from the energy and 
 harmony of thought, rather than of expression. 
 
 The fourth class of errors, being as various as the 
 habits of individuals, cannot be specifically described. 
 They are necessarily points of attention between 
 teachers and pupils individually. 
 
 Among the errors which may be traced in fhe tones 
 of the voice, when considered as occurring in succes- 
 sion, is an inflexible sameness of voice, varying noth- 
 ing in pitch, force, or rate; — words and sentences 
 being merely pronounced as so many groups of sylla- 
 bles, and no change of note or of tone indicating any 
 transition of thought or feeling. 
 
 Another error lies in an affected and rhetorical 
 manner, which introduces arbitrary changes of tone, 
 without regard to meaning; the voice of the speaker 
 rising and falling, swelling and diminishing at inter- 
 vals, merely for the sake of variety to the ear. 
 
 The bad consequences of these faults are obvious. 
 By monotony in reading, we lose as much nearly as 
 we should in conversation by pronouncing every word 
 exactly in the same key : the voice becomes insipid 
 and childish in its tone; meaning is entirely extracted 
 from it ; sense is sacrificed to timidity or awkwardness 
 of habit; and the mental power of utterance is ex- 
 changed for a dull and lifeless uniformity or organic 
 exercise, — unworthy of a human being, and resembling 
 rather the reiterated sound of a machine. 
 
 Rhetorical affectation, on the other hand, is disgusting 
 in its effect; it obscures or changes meaning by ill- 
 judged and unnecessary variations of voice ; it obtrudes 
 the speaker to the exclusion of his subject, and substi- 
 tutes a ridiculous parade of art for the simple and 
 unstudied eloquence of nature. 
 
 Rule I. Let every tone have its true and full, but 
 chaste expression, — whether that of energy and loud- 
 ness, or of pathos and tenderness. 
 13* 
 
150 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 II. Let the tone vary with the sentiment, in succes* 
 sive clauses and sentences. 
 
 III. In the tones of energetic delivery let there be 
 no mouthing force or drawling sound. 
 
 IV. Guard against false inflections and wrong 
 cadences. 
 
 V. Sentences characterized by moderate emotion, 
 but which are nearly related in signification, — whether 
 by direct connexion, as intimated by a conjunction, or 
 in the particularizing, amplifying, or illustrating of one 
 thought by another, — are read with a tone which pre- 
 serves, at the opening of every new sentence, the lowest 
 note of the cadence of the preceding sentence. 
 
 VI. Sentences not connected as above, require a 
 new pitch at the commencement of each, expressive of 
 a new or unconnected thought. This pitch should be 
 more or less high, as the idea embodied in the sentence 
 is more or less distinct from those contained in that 
 which precedes it, or the sentiment is more or less grave 
 in its character, and inclines accordingly to a low 
 tone.* 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 Instructors commonly consider this branch of elocu- 
 tion as one of late and difficult attainment, or as a 
 finishing accomplishment in this department of educa- 
 tion, and accordingly omit it entirely in early instruc- 
 tion. As a consequence of this neglect, juvenile tones 
 in reading are usually so defective, thatTiothingis more 
 common than to designate a mechanical and inexpres- 
 sive style of voice as a 'school-boy" tone. The origin 
 of faults of this description is not in the difficulty of the 
 thing itself, but in the methods which are adopted in 
 teaching, and the general custom of requiring that 
 
 * The last two rules may be illustrated by referring- to the second 
 prose extract given as an illustration of successive tones. 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 151 
 
 school-boys should read what they either do not fully 
 understand or cannot take an interest in. This last 
 circumstance is, in fact, the great cause of the preva 
 lence of unmeaning and inappropriate tones at school 
 For let the young be required to read only what is 
 adapted to their capacities and taste; and, if wrong 
 habit has not become previously fixed by wrong exer- 
 cises, the vivacity of the young mind, and the fresh 
 and pliant tones of the juvenile voice, will give an ex- 
 pression infinitely more true and eloquent than we ever- 
 hear from adults. 
 
 Early practice in modulation is of the utmost im- 
 portance, as the foundation of good habit; and this 
 department of elocution, instead of being deferred till 
 late in the course, should be introduced as early as 
 possible, and cultivated with the utmost attention. It 
 is in the very earliest stage of education that the false 
 tone so commonly heard in school, is contracted ; and 
 the recent improvement in elementary books, affords at 
 least a few pieces, in most, which young readers feel to 
 be natural to their minds, and which they can read 
 with true tones. Lessons of this sort should be repeat- 
 edly and carefully read for practice in tones, apart from 
 the other objects of reading, with a view to direct the 
 attention of young learners more clearly and more suc- 
 cessfully to this point. 
 
 The first object of attention in practising, in this 
 department of elocution, should be to eradicate faulty 
 personal tones, as influenced by habits of utterance, 
 articulation, inflection, emphasis, or cadence. The 
 imitation of incorrect tones may sometimes be neces- 
 sary, to give the learner a distinct conception of his 
 fault. This may be done by the teacher or by the 
 pupils mutually, as may seem expedient. 
 
 The next point is to succeed in producing force and 
 appropriateness in tone and facility in variation. One 
 expedient for this purpose is, by frequent illustrations 
 and repetitions to impress on the pupil's mind the dif- 
 ference between true and false tones of voice, — those 
 of dignified conversation, and those of familiar talk, or 
 of mechanical and monotonous reading. Another 
 means of rectifying errors of this class, is, by interest- 
 
152 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ing conversation and illustrative anecdote to bring the 
 learner's mind into the right mood of emotion, for the 
 full expression of sentiment ; and this is peculiarly im- 
 portant when pieces have been previously and repeat- 
 edly read, as a matter of routine, till the attention has 
 become dull and the' feelings indifferent. 
 
 The pupil's own attentive study of the meaning of 
 what he reads, however, is the best security for natural 
 force and variation of tone. Little improvement can 
 be made in intonation, till the learner has acquired _the 
 power of abstracting his attention from a mechanical 
 enunciation of the words he is reading, and can fix 
 his mind with such force on the thoughts as to make 
 them his own. He must get rid of the idea of words 
 and phrases, clauses and sentences, and fasten on the 
 mental objects presented to him; so that he may ex- 
 press these as if they rose before him at the moment of 
 utterance. Sameness of tone arises from too exclusive 
 attention to words. In the mechanical and monoto- 
 nous exercise of adding syllable to syllable, and word to 
 word, the free play of the mind is lost, and its power 
 over the voice consequently diminished. This effect is 
 a very natural result of the usual method of instruction 
 in the elements of reading; and to shake off the habits 
 caused by such influence, is the first step towards im- 
 provement. 
 
 The teacher may, by his selection of exercises in 
 reading, do much to favour the acquisition of easy and 
 natural tones of voice ; if care is only taken that no 
 piece be read which is above the comprehension of 
 young readers, or not adapted to their taste. Mono- 
 tonous dulness and forced variety of tone, are equally 
 caused by promiscuous and inappropriate reading. 
 Where the mind has not the command of thought and 
 feeling, it will naturally flow into a mechanical atten- 
 tion to words : and in reading or speaking, the tones of 
 the voice, (as they are always a true echo to the actual 
 state of feeling,) will indicate the fact by formal and 
 unmeaning utterance. 
 
 In practising on particular passages which are found 
 difficult, the teacher must show the pupil the nature of 
 the tone or of the variation required — by practical illu&> 
 
SINGLE TONES. 153 
 
 tration; guarding, however, against the pupil's imitating 
 or rather mimicking his teacher's tone, instead of 
 acquiring one of his own; since a natural manner, 
 though tame, is preferable to one which borrows its 
 liveliness from affectation. 
 
 A great advantage may be derived from illustrations 
 drawn from the tones of music, when pupils possess a 
 surhcient knowledge of that art ; — its terms being more 
 definite and exact than those of elocution. 
 
 Exercises in dialogue and in dramatic pieces, if " 
 judiciously selected, are of great practical utility, as 
 means of imparting animation and variety of tone. 
 
 EXERCISES. 
 
 SINGLE TONES. 
 
 Force or loudness: 
 
 1. Again to the battle, Achaians ! 
 
 Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance. 
 * * * we've sworn, by our country's assaulters, 
 
 By the virgins they've dragg"d from our altars, 
 By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, 
 By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins, 
 
 That living, we will be victorious, 
 
 Or that dying, oar deaths shall be glorious. 
 
 A breath of submission we breathe not, 
 
 The sword that we've drawn we will sheath not; 
 
 Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid, 
 
 And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. 
 Earth may hide — waves ingulph — fire consume us, 
 But they shall not to slavery doom us : — 
 
 If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves; 
 
 But we've smote them already with fire on the waves, 
 And new triumphs on land are before us : — 
 To the charge ! Heaven's banner is o'er us< 
 
 2. Scots, who have with Wallace bled, 
 Scots, whom Bruce has often led, . 
 "Welcome to your gory bed 
 
 Or to victory ! 
 
154 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Now's the day and now's the hour; 
 See the front of battle lower, 
 See approach proud Edward's power, 
 Chains and slavery ! 
 
 Who would be a traitor knave ? 
 Who would fill a coward's grave? 
 Who so base as be a slave? 
 Let him turn and flee ! 
 
 Who for Scotland's king and law 
 Freedom's sword will strongly draw, — 
 Freeman stand or freeman fall? 
 Let him on with me ! 
 
 By oppression's woes and pains, 
 By your sons in servile chains, — 
 "We will drain our dearest veins 
 But they shall be free." 
 
 Lay the proud usurpers low; 
 Tyrants fall in every foe, 
 Liberty's in every blow, — 
 " Let us do — or die." 
 
 Softness or faintness of utterance . 
 The heavens are all blue ; and the billow's bright 
 
 verge 
 Is frothily laved by a whispering surge, 
 That heaves incessant a tranquil dirge, 
 To lull the pale forms that sleep below : — 
 Forms that rock as the waters flow. 
 
 That bright lake is still as a liquid sky : 
 
 And when o'er its bosom the swift clouds fly, 
 
 They pass like thoughts o'er a clear, blue eye. 
 The fringe of thin foam that their sepulchre binds, 
 Is as light as the clouds that are borne by the winds. 
 
 Soft over its bosom the dim vapours hover 
 
 In morning's first light: and the snowy-wing'd 
 plover, 
 
 That skims o'er the deep 
 
 "Where my loved ones sleep, 
 No note of joy on this solitude flings; 
 Nor shakes the mist from its drooping wings. 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 155 
 
 Lore pitch of utterance : 
 
 1. The curfew tolls, — the knell of parting day, 
 
 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 glimmering landscape from the 
 sight, 
 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
 Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, 
 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds, 
 
 2. An everlasting hill was torn 
 From its primeval base, and borne, 
 In gold and crimson vapours drest, 
 To where a people are at rest. — 
 
 Slowly it came in its mountain wrath; 
 And the forests vanish'd before its path ; 
 And the rude cliffs bowed ; and the waters fled; 
 And the living were buried, while over their head 
 They heard the full march of their foe as he sped ; — 
 And the valley of life was the tomb of the dead, 
 The mountain sepulchre of all I lov'd ! 
 
 The village sank; and the giant trees 
 
 Lean'd back from the encountering breeze, 
 As this tremendous pageant mov'd. 
 The mountain forsook his perpetual throne, 
 And came down in his' pomp: and his path is showa 
 
 In barrenness and ruin ; — there 
 
 His ancient mysteries lie bare ; 
 
 His rocks in nakedness arise ; 
 
 His desolations mock the sides. 
 
 High pitch: 
 
 1. Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come ! 
 Where the violets lie, may be now your home. 
 Ye of the rose lip, and the dew-bright eye, 
 And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! 
 With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay 
 Come forth to the sunshine ! — I may not stay. 
 
 2. Come hither, hither, my litle page; 
 
 Why dost thou weep and wail ? 
 Or dost thou dread the billow's rage, 
 Or tremble at the gale 1 
 
156 ELOCUTIONIST 
 
 But dash the tear-drop from thine eye ; 
 Our ship is swift and strong: 
 
 Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly- 
 More merrily along. 
 
 3. Stay, lady — stay, for mercy's sake, 
 
 And hear a helpless orphan's tale : 
 Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake — 
 
 'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale ! 
 Yet I was once a mother's pride, 
 
 And my brave father's hope and joy : 
 But in the Nile's proud fight he died — 
 
 And I am now an orphan boy. 
 
 Poor, foolish child ; how pleased was I, 
 When news of Nelson's victory came, 
 
 Along the crowded streets to fly, 
 To see the lighted windows flame ! 
 
 To force me home my mother sought — 
 She could not bear to see my joy t 
 
 For with my father's life 'twas bought — 
 
 And made me a poor orphan boy ! 
 
 Slow rate of utterance : 
 
 1. 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. 
 
 Large was his bounty and his soul sincere ; 
 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send; 
 He gave to misery all he had — a tear ; 
 
 He gain'd from heaven — 'twas all he wished,— 
 a friend. 
 
 No further seek his merits to disclose, 
 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode ;— 
 
 There they alike in trembling hope repose. 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
 2. O Thou that rollest above, round as the shield 
 of my fathers ! whence are thy beams, O Sun ! thy 
 everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful 
 beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 15? 
 
 moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But 
 thou thyself movest above ! Who can be a companion 
 of thy course 7 The oaks of the mountains fall : the 
 mountains themselves decay with years : the ocean 
 shrinks and grows again : the moon herself is lost in 
 the heavens : but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing 
 in the brightness of thy course. When the world is 
 dark with tempests, when thunder rolls, and light- 
 ning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, 
 and laughest at the storm. — But to Ossian thou look- 
 est in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more, 
 whether thy yellow hair floats on the eastern clouds, 
 or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou 
 art, perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years will 
 have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, care- 
 less of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O Sun ! 
 in the strength of thy youth ; — Age is dark and un- 
 lovely : it is like the glimmering light of the moon, 
 when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is 
 on the hills ; when the blast of the north is on the 
 plain, and the traveller shrinks in the midst of his 
 journey. 
 
 Rapid rate of utterance : 
 
 1. Come, thou nymph! and bring with thee 
 Mirth and youthful Jollity ; 
 
 Quips and cranks and wanton wiles ; 
 Nods and becks and wreathed smiles; 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
 And love to live in dimple sleek : 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
 And Laughter holding both his sides : 
 Come, and trip it as. ye go 
 On the light fantastic toe ; 
 And in thy right hand bring with thee 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty. 
 
 2. But, Oh ! how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
 When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
 
 Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
 Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, 
 
 Blew an inspiring air that dale and thicket rung! 
 The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. 
 14 
 
l58 elocutionist. 
 
 The oak-crown'd Sisters, and their chaste-eyed 
 
 Queen, 
 Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen, 
 Peeping from forth their alleys green : 
 Brown Exorcise rejoiced to hear ; 
 And Sport leaped up, and seized his heechen spear. 
 
 3. And there was mounting in hot haste : — the steed, 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
 Went pouring forward with impetuous speed 
 And swiftly forming in the ranks of Avar; 
 While the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar, 
 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum, 
 Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; 
 While throng the citizens with terror dumb, 
 Or whispering with white lips, " The foe ! — thty 
 come — they come." 
 
 4. Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 
 Like chaff before the winds of heaven, 
 
 The archery appear : — 
 For life, for life their flight they ply, 
 While shriek and shout and battle-cry, 
 And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
 And broadswords flashing to the sky, * 
 
 Are maddening in their rear. 
 
 Middle pitch, moderate force and rate : 
 1. Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote 
 And inaccessible by shepherds trod, 
 In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, 
 A hermit lived; a melancholy man, 
 Who was the wonder of our wandering swains 
 Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, 
 Did they report him ; the cold earth his bed, 
 Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms. 
 I went to see him ; and my heart was touch'd 
 With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake ; 
 And, entering on discourse, such stories told, 
 As made me oft revisit his sad cell, 
 For he had been a soldier in his youth ; 
 And fought in famous battles, when the peers 
 Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led 
 Against the usurping infidel, display'd 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 159 
 
 The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. 
 
 Pleas' d with my admiration, and the fire 
 
 His speech struck from me, the old man would 
 
 shake 
 His years away, and act his young encounters : 
 Then having showed his wounds, he 'd sit him 
 
 down, 
 And all the live-long day discourse of war. 
 To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf 
 He cut the figures of the marshalld hosts; 
 Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use 
 Of the deep column, and the lengthened line, 
 The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm; 
 For all that Saracen or Christian knew 
 Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. 
 
 2. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace; 
 Already have our quarrels 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. 
 'Tis time to sheath the sword and spare mankind. 
 It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers, 
 The gods declare against us, and repel 
 Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, 
 (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair,) 
 "Were to refuse the awards of Providence, 
 And not to rest in Heaven's determination. 
 Already have we shown our love to Rome; 
 Now let us show submission to the gods. 
 "We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves, 
 But free the commonwealth. When this end fails, 
 Arms have no further use. Our country's cause 
 That drew our swords, now wrests them from oui 
 
 hands, 
 And bids us not delight in Roman blood 
 Unprofitably shed. What men could do, 
 Is done already. Heaven and earth will witness, 
 If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. 
 
 3. History is not only a valuable part of knowledge, 
 but opens the door to many other parts of knowledge, 
 and affords materials to most of the sciences. And, 
 
160 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 indeed, if we consider the shortness of human life, and 
 our limited knowledge of what passes even in our own 
 time, we must he sensible that we should be for ever 
 children in understanding, were it not for this inven- 
 tion, which extends our experience to all past ages, 
 and to most distant nations, making them contribute 
 as much to our improvement in wisdom as if they had 
 actually lain under our observation. A man acquainted 
 with history, may, in some respect, be said to have 
 lived from the beginning of the world, and to have 
 been making continual additions to his stock of knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 SUCCESSIVE TONES. 
 
 Variation : 
 [All the preceding examples of single tones, may be 
 used as exercises in successive tones, in the following 
 manner. Let the pupil commence with the first ex- 
 ample on Force, and immediately after reading it, pass 
 to the first example of Softness or Faintness ; observ- 
 ing carefully and expressing fully the change of tone 
 thus produced. The first example of Middle Pilch, 
 Moderate Force and Rate, may be read next; the 
 change being observed as before. The second exam- 
 ple of each quality may then be read in the same man- 
 ner; next the third, and so on. For further practice 
 the order of the exercises may be inverted ; and the 
 examples may all be repeated, in order to facilitate the 
 power of changing the tone with suddenness, and. in 
 exact adaptation to any transition of thought or emo- 
 tion.] 
 
 " The Sinking Ship." 
 
 Her giant form, 
 O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm, 
 Majestically calm, would go, 
 Mid the deep darkness, white as snow ! 
 But gentler now the small waves glide, 
 5. Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side. 
 So stately her bearing, so proud her array, 
 The main she will traverse for ever and aye. 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 16l 
 
 Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast ! 
 Hush ! hush ! thou vain dreamer ! this hour is 
 her last. 
 10. Five hundred souls, in one instant of dread 
 
 Are hurried o'er the deck, 
 
 And fast the miserable ship 
 
 Becomes a lifeless wreck. 
 
 Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock, 
 15. 'Her planks are torn asunder, 
 
 And down come her masts with a reeling shock, 
 
 And a hideous crash like thunder. 
 
 Her sails are draggled in the brine', 
 
 That gladdened late the skies ; 
 20. And her pendant, that kissed the fair moonshinej 
 
 Down many a fathom lies. 
 
 Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues 
 
 Gleamed softly from below, 
 
 And flung a warm and sunny flush 
 25. O'er the wreaths of murmuring snow, 
 
 To the coral rocks are hurrying down, 
 
 To sleep amid colours as bright as their own. 
 Oh ! many a dream was in the ship, 
 
 An hour before her death ; 
 30. And sights of home with sighs disturb' d 
 
 The sleeper's long-drawn breath. 
 
 Instead of the murmur of the sea, 
 
 The sailor heard the humming tree, 
 
 Alive through all its leaves, 
 35. The hum of the spreading sycamore 
 
 That grows before his cottage-door, 
 
 And the swallow's song in the eaves. 
 
 His arms enclosed a blooming boy, 
 
 Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy 
 40. To the dangers his father had passed ; 
 
 And his wife, — by turns she wept and smiled, 
 
 As she looked on the father of her child 
 
 Returned to her heart at last. 
 
 — He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll, 
 45. And the rush of waters is in his soul. 
 
 Astounded the reeling deck he paces, 
 
 Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces ; — 
 
 The whole ship's crew are there. 
 14* 
 
1 62 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Waitings around and overhead, 
 50. Brave spirits stupified or dead, 
 
 And madness and despair. 
 
 Now is the ocean's bosom bare, 
 
 Unbroken as the floating air; 
 
 The ship hath melted quite away, 
 55. Like a struggling dream at break of day. 
 
 No image meets my wandering eye, 
 
 Bat the new-risen sun and the sunny sky. 
 
 Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapoui 
 dull 
 
 Bedims the waves so beautiful ; 
 60. While a low and melancholy moan 
 
 Mourns for the glory that hath flown. 
 
 The principal changes of tone, in the reading or 
 reciting of this piece, are the following. — The com- 
 mencing strain is that of admiration caused by sublim- 
 ity and strength. The tone therefore is deep, and 
 forcible, and somewhat slow. This tone pervades the 
 first three lines ; — its peculiar qualities all increasing 
 in degree till the close of the third. 
 
 The first change takes place in passing to the style 
 of calm and beautiful description, in the fourth and 
 fifth lines ; the tone becoming soft, and passing into 
 the middle pitch and moderate rate. 
 
 The tone of admiration is resumed in the sixth line, 
 and is strengthened by the addition of that of exulta- 
 tion, approaching to that of vaunting or boasting. 
 The change of voice is to low but loud and rather 
 rapid utterance, increasing gradually in the seventh 
 and eighth lines. 
 
 In the ninth line, there is a sudden transition to the 
 language of solemn rebuke. The voice passes to a 
 very low pitch, slow utterance, and suppressed force. 
 At the middle of the same line, there is a perceptible 
 change produced by the manner of solemn and em- 
 phatic assertion; the tone becoming more energetic 
 and more slow, and falling still lower. 
 
 The commencing strain of the tenth line, is in the 
 manner of solemn and emphatic description. The 
 tone accordingly differs from that of the closing part 
 of the preceding line only in raising the pitch ; the 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 163 
 
 force and slowness of utterance remaining nearly as 
 before. At the phrase, "in one instant of dread," 
 there is a sudden change to rapidity, from the nature 
 of the event introduced, and to low and forcible utter- 
 ance from the same cause; the tone indicating the 
 highest degree of vehement excitement, arising from 
 the abrupt introduction of circumstances of terror and 
 agitation. This tone continues throughout the next 
 line, but is greatly heightened in all its characteristic 
 qualities, by the emotion of terror, caused by the rapid 
 consummation of the catastrophe described. 
 
 The tone of the twelfth line, is that of grief and 
 regret. The voice, therefoie. becomes stoic, rises to a 
 higher pilch than before, and is moderate in the force 
 of utterance. The manner of emphatic description is 
 added to this general tone in the next line ; the pitch 
 accordingly falls, and the force is much increased. 
 
 The fourteenth line introduces particular and vivid 
 description, which is gradually heightened in the next 
 three lines. The tone of agitation returns to some 
 extent : and the voice deepens, and becomes more and 
 more rapid and forcible, as it proceeds. • 
 
 In the eighteenth line, the pathetic manner begins 
 to mingle with the description ; and the rate of voice 
 becomes slow, rises to a higher strain, and has its 
 force very much subdued. The pathetic qualities of 
 the tone increase in the next line, and still more in the 
 twentieth. The deeper tone and still slower utterance, 
 but greater force, of regret, prevail in the twenty- 
 first line. 
 
 The pathetic tone returns in the twenty-second line, 
 and brings back the voice to a strain rather higher in 
 its notes, ^gentler in its force, and more languid in its 
 movement. The poetic beauty of style in the next 
 three lines, gives occasion for a still more pathetic 
 tone, as the description expands. 
 
 The twenty-sixth line introduces a circumstance of 
 aice in the description ; and the voice sinks to a lower 
 note, and the utterance acquires force. The poetic 
 beauty of the description, blending with the tone of awe 
 in the next line, produces a slower and gentler strain 
 of expression. 
 
164 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The manner of deep grief, pervades the twenty- 
 eighth line ; and the change of voice is to low and 
 slow, yet forcible expression. The same general style 
 characterizes the next three lines. 
 
 In the thirty-second line, the language commences 
 a strain of poetic and beautiful description, associated 
 with circumstances of pathos. Force is repressed in 
 the tone ; the voice rises to the middle pitch ; and the 
 rate of utterance is still slow. This style continues 
 till the close of the thirty-seventh line. 
 
 Joy, mingling with pathos, is the succeeding class 
 of emotions. The tone increases in force, and takes a 
 livelier and quicker utterance. In the thirty-ninth and 
 fortieth lines, however, the tone of tenderness predom- 
 inates; — diminishing the vivacity, and consequently 
 reducing the force, but raising the note, and rendering 
 the movement wore slow. Through the next three 
 lines, the same tones prevail, but marked still more 
 strikingly by the characteristics of tenderness, on the 
 one hand, and joy on the other. 
 
 The forty-fourth line commences with a sudden and 
 abrupt change to the tone of terror, — producing the 
 deepest notes, and the most forcible and rapid utterance 
 combined. The tone of horror succeeds in the next 
 line, which is comparatively slow, but deep and ener- 
 getic. The tone of amazement follows, which runs 
 on higher notes, and a quicker rate, and rather less 
 forcible utterance. The high and hurried, tone of 
 agitation and confusion, pervades the forty-seventh 
 line. The tone becomes somewhat slower in the next 
 line, SLiidf/lls a few notes ; as the previous agitation is 
 displaced, for a moment, by the tone of sublimity and 
 awe, arising from the contemplation of the pending 
 catastrophe, as connected with the number of victims. 
 
 In the forty-ninth line, the tone changes to that ot 
 deep grief in strong expression: — the utterance is on 
 middle notes, but loud and slow. In the next line, the 
 tone of amizem,ent and confusion, is introduced. The 
 utterance assumes a quicker rate, a more abrupt force, 
 and a lower "note. The tone of utter horror succeeds, 
 in the next line ; and the voice falls to its lowest ?iotes t 
 but acquires the utmost force with a rate much slower. 
 
TONES AND MODULATION. 165 
 
 The language of the piece returns, in the fifty- 
 second line, to the style of calm description, but 
 blended with the tone of awe, from the nature of the 
 circumstances that have preceded. The voice rises 
 to the middle pitch nearly ; the degree of force is 
 slight ; and the rate of utterance is very slow. The 
 same general tone pervades the three succeeding 
 lines ; becoming somewhat slower, loiver, and more 
 forcible, as the description advances to circumstances 
 of awe. 
 
 The sloiv and distinct manner of solemnity, prevails 
 in the fifty-sixth and fifty-seventh lines. 
 
 The mood of gloom and melancholy commences in 
 the fifty-eighth line, and runs through the fifty-ninth, 
 but moderated by the tone of beautiful description. 
 The voice sinks to a low and slow strain, but sustained 
 by a moderate force. 
 
 In the sixtieth line, the preceding tone becomes very 
 deep, and peculiarly slow ; the force diminishing as the 
 emotions of gloom and melancholy are deepened by 
 those of awe and grief ; the poetic beauty of descrip- 
 tion, however, still softening, to some extent, the 
 whole character of the tone, and preventing any ap- 
 proach to harshness or abruptness.^ 
 
 To cultivate rightly the powers of expression in 
 young learners, exercises in the above manner of 
 explanatory analysis, should be practised, with the 
 aid of the teacher, on every piece which is read as a 
 lesson on tones. Nor will this prove a difficult task 
 to pupils of the age supposed to have been attained 
 by those who make use of this volume, if the exercise 
 is never attempted on pieces not adapted to the taste 
 and feelings of youth, Generally, however, it would 
 be advisable that the teacher should allow his pupils 
 the benefit of full illustration, by his performing this 
 exercise frequently, in the way of example, before it 
 is made a regular lesson for classes or individuals, 
 
 * The limits prescribed to an elementary book, render it impossi- 
 ble to extend the analysis to further examples. The specimen, 
 nowever, which has been given, may perhaps be sufficient to sug« 
 gest the kind of exercise intended. 
 
166 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The great object of such practice is to draw the atten« 
 tion of learners to the various states of mind, or 
 moods of feeling, which produce modulation and 
 other changes of tone; that these mental circum- 
 stances may, on any occasion, be readily and dis- 
 tinctly recognised; and that their appropriate tones 
 may be inseparably associated with them. Reading 
 may thus be made a matter of understanding and 
 true feeling, instead of being, as it now too generally 
 is, a matter of mere mechanical routine; and elocu- 
 tion may become what it should be, — an intellectual 
 accomplishment, and not an artificial acquirement. 
 
 CADENCE. 
 
 General Observations. The completion of a thought 
 is expressed, not only by the long pause which takes 
 place at the end of a sentence, but, usually, by a fall- 
 ing of the voice, on the closing words, to a lower pitch 
 than that which prevailed in the body of the sentence. 
 This closing descent in the tone, is termed cadence. 
 Its use is to prevent the abruptness and irregularity 
 of sound which would be produced by continuing the 
 prevailing pitch to the close of the sentence, — a tone 
 which would have the effect of exciting expectation 
 of farther expression, and would therefore be at vari- 
 ance both with harmony and sense. 
 
 The cadence, when appropriately used, produces to 
 the ear the effect of the full formation or completion 
 of sentiment. It is among the chief sources of har- 
 mony and variety in speech, and forms a true and 
 chaste ornament in reading. The absence of it, in 
 circumstances where it is required, gives an indefinite 
 and wandering tone to the termination of a sentence; 
 while, on the other hand, a uniform and mechanical 
 use of it, gives to reading that unmeaning, formal, and 
 tedious style, which distinguishes its tones from the 
 natural, animated, and varied expression of the voice 
 in conversation. 
 
CADENCE. 167 
 
 Definition. Cadence is the closing tone of a sen- 
 tence. 
 
 Note. The etymology of this word has led to a 
 false notion which is very current in regard to read- 
 ing, — that every sentence has a falling close. Hence 
 the common direction, Let the voice fall at a period. 
 This rule would be a just one for the reading of a 
 single sentence which required the downward slide. 
 It is quite the reverse, however, for a sentence which 
 happens to terminate with the rising inflection; as 
 may be perceived by the following example : 
 
 " Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow" 
 
 Nor will such a rule apply when one sentence is merely 
 introductory to another, or when a negative sentence 
 is followed by an affirmative one. For example: 
 " Your enemies may be formidable by their numbers 
 and their power. But He who is with you is mightier 
 than they." " True politeness is not a mere compli- 
 ance with arbitrary custom. It is the expression of a 
 refined benevolence." 
 
 The word cadence, as used by the ancient rhetori- 
 cians, was applied to the close of a ' period,' or sentence 
 embracing a complete sentiment, with all its modifica- 
 tions. But in modern style, a sentence is often com- 
 pleted in the compass of a few words ; and the full 
 stop is no security that a whole idea is expressed. 
 The frequency of the period, or full stop, is a matter 
 of taste and custom, and dependent on no uniform rule 
 of thought or of language. Thus, at the time when 
 the Spectator appeared, it was- customary to write a 
 succession of single sentences connected by a conjunc- 
 tion, as component parts merely of a long compound 
 sentence, and to point them with a semicolon.^ In 
 
 # " The strange and absurd variety that is so apparent in men's 
 actions shows plainly they can never proceed immediately from rea- 
 son ; so pure a fountain emits no such troubled waters ; they must 
 necessarily arise from the passions, which are to the mind as the 
 ■winds to a ship, they only can move it, and they too often destroy 
 it ; if fair and gentle, they guide it into the harbour ; if contrary 
 and furious, they overset it in the waves : in the same manner is 
 the mind assisted or endangered by the passions ; reason must then 
 take tne place of the pilot, and can never fail of securing her 
 
168 
 
 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 our own day, the tendency of custom is to use, in such 
 cases, the full stop at each single sentence. But. in all 
 cases, we must seek for a rule less fluctuating than 
 that of fashion or temporary taste, to guide the voice 
 in the expression of sentiment : and this we can find 
 only in the meaning. The appropriate tone of thought 
 and feeling, must be left to decide whether the voice 
 shall fall or rise. 
 
 Cadence, then, if we do use the word, should be 
 understood, arbitrarily, to signify the closing tone of a 
 sentence, as expressive of meaning preceding or fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 The unmeaning and mechanical style of reading, 
 which is too generally exemplified at school, and m 
 professional performances, is chiefly characterized by 
 a continually returning fall of voice at the end of 
 every sentence. — so uniform that it might be used as 
 a guide by which to count the exact number of sen- 
 tences read. A whole paragraph is read as so many 
 detached and independent sentences, forming distinct 
 and unconnected propositions or maxims. Animated, 
 natural, and appropriate reading, on the contrary, 
 avoids this frequent fall, and keeps up that perpetual 
 variety which the changes ot sense require. This 
 effect it produces by modifying the close of every sen- 
 tence, according to its meaning in connexion with the 
 rest. A reader who uses this style, gives every sen- 
 tence as a dependent part of a connected whole, and 
 thus gives unity and harmony to a train of thought. 
 This effect he attains by disregarding the arbitrary 
 rule for a fall of voice at every period, and seeking \vs 
 guidance from the sense of what he utters, as he does 
 in his habits of common conversation. — making no 
 difference whatever in the two cases, but what arises. 
 of necessity, from the more regular form of written 
 sentences. 
 
 Rule I. Every complete and independent sentence 
 
 charge, if she be not wanting- to herself: the strength of the pas- 
 sions will never be accepted as an excv.se for complying with them ; 
 they were designed for subjection, and if a man surfers them to get 
 the upper hand, he then betrays the liberty of his own soul." — 
 Spectator, No. 408. 
 
CADENCE. 169 
 
 which does not terminate with a modifying clause, has 
 the falling inflection. 
 
 Note. The note to which the cadence falls, and the 
 space through which it descends, are dependent on the 
 emotion with which the sentiment should be uttered, 
 or on the length. and complication of the sentence. In 
 strong emotion, the cadence is often both abrupt and 
 low: thus, 
 
 " Let us do, or cfte." 
 
 In gentle emotion, the cadence is gradual and mod- 
 erate : 
 
 H How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.' , 
 
 In short sentences, in which emotion does not pre- 
 vail, the fall is slight. " Human life is the journey of 
 a day." In long sentences the fail is more obvious, 
 and commences farther from the close. "As we per- 
 ceive the shadow to have moved along the dial, but 
 did not perceive its moving; and it appears that the 
 grass has grown, though nobody ever saw it grow : 
 so the advances we make in knowledge, as they con- 
 sist of such minute steps, are only perceivable by the 
 distance." 
 
 Rule II. Sentences which terminate with a modi- 
 fying phrase, and all sentences which qualify or affect, 
 in any way, a preceding sentence, or are introductory 
 to other sentences, close with a tone adapted to the 
 modification or connexion of meaning. 
 
 " My sentence is for open war : of wiles 
 (More unexpert) I boast not; them let those 
 Contrive who need, or when they need : not now. 
 For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
 Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait 
 The signal to ascend, sit lingering here, 
 Heaven's fugitives?'"'"* 
 
 Errors. The common faults of cadence are, 1st, 
 delaying- the fall of voice till the last word of the sen- 
 
 * Farther examples may be found in the appropriate exercises 
 on Inflection. 
 
 15 
 
170 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 tence, and dropping at once from, perhaps, a uniform 
 and level tone preceding ; 2d, falling very low in the 
 closing phrase ; 3d, falling at too early a point in the 
 sentence ; 4th, using a waving tone of voice, which 
 makes a false emphasis near the close ; 5th, a gradual 
 gliding downward from the opening of the sentence; 
 6th, a gradual diminishing of the force of the voice, 
 till it becomes nearly inaudible at the close ; 7th, the 
 disagreeable sameness produced by the repetition of 
 any of these tones throughout a piece. 
 
 The various faulty cadences which have been men- 
 tioned, including the last, might be expressed thus to 
 the eye. 
 
 1st. The dropping of the voice upon the last word: 
 
 " The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard 
 of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, are 
 not to be The most faithful allies of the 
 
 computed, 
 commonwealth have been treated as 
 
 enemies. 
 Roman citizens have, like slaves, been put to death 
 with 
 
 tortures." 
 
 This fault might be represented by a sort of dia- 
 gram, thus : 
 
 1 ■n i 
 
 2d. A low fall on the closing phrase : 
 
 " The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and 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. 
 
CADENCR. 17] 
 
 Roman citizens have been put to death 
 
 like 
 
 slaves." 
 This fault might be represented thus: 
 
 \ V Ss 
 
 3d. Fatting .: foe early a point in the sentence : 
 
 "The sums he has. by arbitrary taxes and un- 
 heard of impositions, extorted from the industrious 
 pxr. 
 
 are not to be computed. The most faithful allies 
 of the commonwealth 
 
 have been treated as enemies.' 5 
 Roman citizens have been put to death 
 
 like slaves."* 
 
 This cadence is not quite so uniform as either oi the 
 ig, and cannot be so strictly copied to the eye 
 — comparatively, however, it would rim thus : 
 
 4th. False emphasis and undulation at the close of a 
 sentence : 
 ■■ The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard 
 of impost : mis, extorted from the industrious poor, are 
 
 r t; be computed. The most faithful allies of the 
 nmonwealth have been treated as enemies. Roman 
 citizens have been put to death like slaves.' 3 
 
 This fault might be represented thus : 
 
 5th. vV. 6th. Diminishing and gradually descending 
 
 The most faithful allies :: the commonwealth 
 have 
 
 been 
 
 treated 
 
 * This cadence is always accompanied by the infection of ' 
 phatic phrase. ' 
 
172 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Roman citizens 
 
 have been 
 
 put 
 
 to 
 death 
 
 like 
 
 slaves. 
 
 This fault may be represented thus 
 
 The first of the faults arises from a habit of read 
 ing with a mechanical attention to the words, instead 
 of an intelligent observation of meaning. It is the 
 appropriate tone of children, while the difficulty of 
 reading still remains, to some extent, or when they 
 are reading what they do not understand. The habit 
 of attending solely or chiefly to the words of a sen- 
 tence, soon becomes fixed as a permanent one, and 
 entails unmeaning and arbitrary tones on the reading 
 even of adults. It is hardly necessary to say that this 
 tone is at variance with all meaning, and that it can 
 be removed only by a close attention to the sense of 
 what is read. 
 
 The second fault in cadence is contracted usually 
 by reading grave and formal pieces; the solemnity of 
 style in which is unnatural to the tones of youth. 
 The usual standard inadvertently adopted by boys in 
 the reading of such pieces, is that which they too often 
 hear from the pulpit. The effect of this tone is to sub- 
 stitute a heavy and hollow-sounding close, bearing a 
 measured proportion to the preceding parts of a sen- 
 tence, for the true and varied tone of meaning. This 
 cadence is especially inappropriate in the young, and 
 should be carefully avoided by directing the attention 
 to the nature of the sentiment which is expressed, and 
 adapting the voice to the meaning, and not to a certain 
 routine of mechanical utterance. 
 
 The third fault, that of beginning to fall too soon, 
 also arises from the mind being in the habit of attend- 
 ing to the language rather than to the thought, and 
 from the wrong impression that there must necessarily 
 
CADENCE. 173 
 
 be a fall at the close of every sentence, and, perhaps, 
 too, from a mistake in taste, by which the young read- 
 er is led to imagine that there is something pleasing to 
 the ear, in a regular and formal descent of the voice. 
 This tone is unavoidably associated with a pedantic 
 manner, and should be carefully guarded against, by 
 endeavouring to keep the voice in the same strain of 
 expression which would be observed in conversation, 
 when not marked by incorrect or inappropriate tones. 
 The meaning of a sentence, and nothing else, can 
 suggest the true tone. 
 
 The fourth error in cadence is the tone often heard 
 at the close of sentences, in the speaking of declama- 
 tory pieces at school and college exhibitions. It falls 
 upon the ear with a sound resembling the close of an 
 hexameter verse. Like the faults already mentioned, 
 it is characterized by a mechanical and measured flow 
 of voice, depending on the succession of the words, 
 and not on the meaning of the sentence. The speaker 
 is inadvertently carried away by the rhetorical force 
 and rhythm of the language, and thus loses a clear and 
 distinct conception of the sentiment. The tone of 
 energy, instead of falling only on emphatic words, is 
 distributed vaguely over the whole surface of a sen- 
 tence, and floats off in an undulating and half-musical 
 close. This fault would be avoided by directing the 
 attention to the thoughts rather than to the language 
 of a piece, and by observing the true emphasis of 
 meaning, instead of an arbitrary emphasis of sound. 
 
 The fifth and sixth faults usually occur in the same 
 general tone; the voice commencing every sentence on 
 a comparatively high note, and with a moderate degree 
 of force, but the pitch gradually falling, and the loud- 
 ness gradually diminishing, in the progress of the sen- 
 tence, till the tone has nearly died away at the close. 
 These faults originate in the habits contracted in child- 
 hood, from the unnatural attempt to read too loud, or 
 in too large a room, and thus to make an effort which 
 the powers of the voice, are, at that early age, incapa- 
 ble of sustaining. The young reader soon gets accus- 
 tomed to this subsiding tone, as a matter of course in 
 all reading, until it becomes as it were the fixed gait 
 15* 
 
174 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 of his voice, which he involuntarily transfers to later 
 stages of his progress in education, and even' to pro- 
 fessional efforts in mature years. 
 
 This objectionable tone would, like all others, be 
 removed by the habit of attending to the meaning of 
 what is read or spoken, more than to the phraseology. 
 Written sentences differ from' those of conversation 
 chiefly in their inversion; the most forcible and ex- 
 pressive phrases being generally placed last in order. 
 This arrangement favours strength of style in compo- 
 sition; but it needs a sustained and regularly increas- 
 ing force of voice, to give it just utterance. In good 
 reading, accordingly, the tone strengthens progressively 
 in a sentence, — especially if long or complex; whilst 
 in feeble and unimpressive reading, the voice is gradu- 
 ally dwindling where the language requires increasing 
 energy. 
 
 The sinking cadence owes its peculiar tone, in part, 
 to the habit of resuming a high pitch at the commenc- 
 ing word of every sentence. This tone prevents the 
 expression of connected meaning; as it makes every 
 sentence a separate object to the ear, and produces 
 something like a sense of weariness in the hearer, by 
 the continual recurrence of its dying note. 
 
 This fault arises in part, also, from the mechanical 
 habit of attending to sentences as such, and not to their 
 value, or their connexion in signification. When two 
 sentences are connected in meaning, the latter, if ap- 
 propriately read, commences on the low note used at 
 the close of the former. The unity of sound thus pro- 
 duced, gives the sentences a unity to the ear. The 
 rising of the voice to a new pitch, at the opening of a 
 new sentence, indicates, by the change of note, a 
 change of meaning, or a transition to a new and diifer- 
 ent thought. 
 
 Take, for example, the following sentences; and let 
 them be read first in such a manner that theclan-:?, 
 "'It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, 1 ' 
 shall run upon the same note precisely with which the 
 word "senses," in the preceding sentence, was uttered; 
 — using that word for a key-note, as you would the 
 sound of a pitch-pipe. In this reading, the tone of 
 
CADENCE. 175 
 
 connexion between the sentences is produced. Again, 
 let the sentences be read with a new or high pitch 
 upon the opening of the second ; and the voice obvi- 
 ously wanders off, as if to express a distinct and un- 
 connected idea. 
 
 " Oar sight is the most perfect and most delightful 
 of all our senses. It fills the mind with the largest 
 variety of ideas, converses with its objects at the 
 greatest distance, and continues the longest in action 
 without being tired or satiated with' its proper enjoy- 
 ments ." 
 
 The uniform recurrence, then, of a high pitch at the 
 beginning of every sentence, must have the effect of 
 destroying the natural connexion of thought, and thus 
 of obscuring or changing the sense. It is still a^clear 
 conception of meaning, however, on which the learner 
 is to depend as the only guide to appropriate cadence. 
 For the fault of a dwindling cadence would not. occur, 
 but for the mechanical change of pitch, which is at 
 variance with meaning. 
 
 The fault which is mentioned last in the enumera- 
 tion of errors, is the necessary result of the frequent 
 repetition or constant recurrence of any one of the 
 preceding faults. It implies, then, all the disadvanta- 
 ges of each singly, aggravated by perpetual reiteration, 
 and thus leading to a sameness of sound, which is not 
 less disagreeable to the ear, than the particular tone 
 considered singly. 
 
 This, and all the other faulty habits of cadence, 
 are greatly aggravated in verse. [See Reading of 
 Poetry.] 
 
 SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 The personal tone of each pupil must regulate the 
 adoption of expedients for the removal of habitual 
 faults in regard to cadence. The chief thing to be 
 impressed on the mind, is the deviation of the voice 
 from the tone of the meaning: since all pupils do not 
 possess a ready ear for the discrimination of sounds 
 considered in relation to music, or even to general good 
 taste. Imitation may sometimes be resorted to, on 
 
176 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 the part of the teacher, with good effect ; ancl, under 
 due superintendence, mutual correction by- the pupils 
 themselves, may be very serviceable in correcting bad 
 cadence. 
 
 The correction of the fault mentioned first, requires 
 a complete renovation of mental habit, and a wakeful, 
 active attention to what is read. Animated and inter- 
 esting pieces, in familiar style, will afford the best sub- 
 jects for practice, with a view to the removal of this 
 fault. The same suggestion may be made in referer.ee 
 to the errors numbered second, third, and fourth. 
 Lively and humorous pieces will be most useful, when 
 the object of practice is to do away the diminishing 
 and half-pathetic cadence. 
 
 The expedient of practising in company with the 
 teacher, cannot be so freely recommended here as in 
 other departments of elocution; since adults, and 
 especially teachers, are generally prone to a degree of 
 formality in cadence, which, when transferred to the 
 style of the young, has a very unfavourable effect. The 
 utmost care, too, is necessary in selecting pieces for 
 practice ; that when didactic and declamatory exercises 
 are prescribed, they may not prove, as they too gene- 
 rally do, a source of irretrievable injury to tone and 
 cadence, from the nature of the sentiments, and the 
 forms of expression, prevailing in the passage which 
 is read or spoken. Unintelligible ideas and formal 
 language are the chief sources of false and unmeaning 
 cadence, as well as of most other defects in reading 
 and declamation. 
 
 READING OF POETRY. 
 
 General Observations. The reading of poetry differs 
 from that of prose, chiefly in the following circum- 
 stances. Poetry, being the expression of imaginative 
 states of mind, produces a much greater force, variety r 
 and vividness of thought and feeling, than usually 
 occur in prose, which is the language of sentiment in 
 its ordinary form. The qualities of voice required bj 
 
READING OF POETRY. 177 
 
 the former, correspond to its peculiar traits of emotion, 
 which are distinguished by great intensity; running 
 sometimes to the extremes of tone, and often varying 
 from one strain to another. Prose generally preserves 
 a more moderate expression, and a more equable 
 movement of voice, as coinciding with the plainer 
 qualities of thought and language. The rhythmical 
 flow of voice, produced by versification, combining, 
 with the sense cf poetic beauty of conception, natu- 
 rally creates a musical or melodious strain of utter- 
 ance, in the reading of poetry, which must be avoided 
 in prose, as inconsistent with the practical style of 
 sentiment and expression, and the irregular succession 
 of sounds, which appropriately belong to this form of 
 writing. 
 
 The chief requisites, then, for the appropriate read- 
 ing of .poetry, are a clear and distinct conception of 
 the thoughts expressed -in the passage which is read, 
 a full and natural sympathy with the emotions which 
 combine with these thoughts, and a discriminating ear 
 for the melody and harmony of verse. The states of 
 mind which produce vividness and variety of tone, 
 have been already adverted to; and some of the most 
 striking instances of their occurrence have been 
 pointed out, in the examples and explanations of the 
 lesson on tones. It is to the effect of the rhythm of 
 verse, therefore, that the present lesson is intended to 
 direct the learner's attention. 
 
 Definition. The chief affections or modifications 
 of voice, arising from the utterance of verse, may be 
 arranged in the manner observed in the lesson on 
 tones, and classed under the heads of force, pitch, and 
 rate. To these qualities we must add that of metre, 
 or prosodial time, which gives character to rhythm, 
 and to which ' rate' is. in fact, but subordinate. — Time, 
 though it exists in the reading or speaking of prose, 
 is not so distinctly perceptible in this form of utter- 
 ance as in that of verse. This quality of vocal ex- 
 pression is that which keeps in just proportion the 
 
178 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 length of every sound, the rate of the succession of 
 Bounds, and the duration of pauses, whether arising 
 from meaning or merely from versification. 
 
 The effect of time on a passage which expresses an 
 emotion requiring a slow utterance, would be, (as in 
 the following example of solemnity and reverence,) to 
 prolong every single sound, to render the succession of 
 sounds slow, to make the pauses long which arise 
 from the sentiment, and those which belong to the 
 verse, perceptible and distinct : 
 
 11 These are thy glorious work.!, Parent of good, 
 Almighty ! thine this universal frame, 
 Thus wondrous fair ! thyself how wondrous then; 
 Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens, 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 In these thy lowest works." 
 
 A gay and lively strain of poetry, if correctly timed, 
 would be distinguished, (as, for example, the lines 
 from Milton's L' Allegro, page 157,) by brevity in si?i- 
 gle sounds, rapid succession of sounds, and short 
 pauses, both as regards the meaning and the verse. 
 
 The proportion of sound, of its succession, and of 
 its intervals, (as regulated by the metre, or measure, of 
 time.) is, in both these instances, — and not less in all 
 other cases. — a main circumstance in the true poetic 
 character of the utterance, and a point without which 
 the language must deviate into the manner of prose. 
 Time, indeed, is as essential to poetry as to music. 
 
 The modifications of tone arising from the influence 
 of poetry, are chiefly the following : 
 
 1st. Rate. Poetry being, as far as the ear is con- 
 cerned, a rhythmical succession of sounds, it becomes 
 necessary, in point of fact, as well as agreeable to the 
 ear, that every sound should be dwelt upon long 
 enough to give a full impression of its true quantity 
 or length. The reading of poetry, therefore, is distin- 
 guished from that of prose, by a comparative prolong* 
 ation or indulgence of every sound. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 179 
 
 The tones of prose reading, not being affected by 
 Any accommodation to melody or harmony of sound, 
 but solely by the plain and direct conveyance of 
 meaning, the voice inclines to brevity. Poetry im- 
 plies, in all its expression, a reference to pleasure; 
 and the ear is to be gratified by sound, while the 
 mind is- receiving ideas. A slightly prolonged articu- 
 lation, therefore, becomes necessary in the reading of 
 verse, to afford due scope to the beauty of sound : it 
 constitutes the natural expression, also, of the grati- 
 fication derived, through the ear, from the pleasing 
 form in which objects are offered to the attention; 
 since the sense tends to dwell on what gives delight to 
 the mind. Rapidity and brevity in utterance, accord- 
 ingly, destroy the effect of poetry to the ear. 
 
 The length of single sounds occasions, of necessity, 
 a slow succession of them. The general style of 
 utterance in poetic reading, therefore, is slower than 
 that of prose. 
 
 The preceding explanations may be applied to the 
 following stanza.^ 
 
 " All hail ! thou lovely queen of night, 
 
 Bright empress of the starry sky ! 
 The meekness of thy silvery light 
 
 Beams gladness on the gazer's eye, 
 While from thy peerless throne on high 
 
 Thou shinest bright as cloudless noon, 
 And bidd'st the clouds of darkness fly 
 
 Before thy glory, — harvest moon ! " 
 
 2d. Force. The general effect of verse on the 
 force of the voice, is to diminish it slightly, as com- 
 pared with the same quality of utterance in prose. 
 This result is produced chiefly by softening the abrupt* 
 ness of force, — partly through the prolongation of 
 
 * The prolongation of sound mentioned above is a quality which 
 has been described as comparative merely. It must be confined to 
 a very moderate degree. 
 
180 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 sound already mentioned, and partly through a slight 
 yeU perceptible swelling of every sound, especially 
 long vowels, — somewhat in the manner of singing, 
 though only a distant approach to it. 
 
 The rhythm of verse identifies it so far with rnusic: 
 the ■ swell ' is inseparable from musical utterance ; 
 and the reading of poetry consequently partakes of it. 
 The slight swell of voice in verse differs, however, 
 from that of music, in not being so regular in its 
 formation. The swell of music is a gradual increase 
 of force, from the beginning to the middle of a note, — 
 from which point it diminishes as regularly and grad- 
 ually as it increased in approaching it. An exact 
 copy of this style of utterance, even in a rapid de- 
 livery, — in which it would be comparatively obscured 
 by the quick succession of sounds, — cannot be trans- 
 ferred, even to prose, without creating the fault of a 
 mouthing tone. The swell of verse differs from that 
 of music, not only in being very slight, or barely per- 
 ceptible, but in attaining its utmost force at a point 
 comparatively near to its commencement, and thence 
 decreasing, in a manner which leaves the diminish- 
 ing of the force much more apparent to the ear, than 
 the increasing of it when approaching to its utmost 
 degree. 
 
 This slight swell of voice is a natural and indispen- 
 sable characteristic of poetic tone, without which the 
 utterance becomes hard and prosaic. A slow and 
 careful reading of the first line, and especially of the 
 first two words, of the stanzas already quoted, will 
 exemplify this modification of voice. 
 
 3d. Pitch. The effect of poetry on the pitch of 
 the voice, is usually, in consequence of the more vivid 
 emotion by which it is characterized, to carry the 
 voice to a higher or lower note than in prose, accord- 
 ing to the nature of the emotion expressed, as grave 
 and deep-toned, or inclining to a high strain of utter- 
 ance. / 
 
 Prosodial Pauses. The general office of ' time/ in 
 
READING OF POETRY. 181 
 
 regulating the movement of the voice, has been 
 already mentioned. Its peculiar effect on the reading 
 of verse depends much on two pauses, one essential to 
 all forms of metre, and the other chiefly to those 
 which run to comparative length in single lines, as- 
 heroic and blank verse, and, sometimes, anapaestic 
 measure. These pauses are termed final and c&sural. 
 The former takes place at the end of every line where 
 it would not destroy the natural connexion of sense; 
 and the latter, at or near the middle of a line. 
 
 The final pauses in the following stanza, Coincide, 
 at the close of the first two lines, with the sense and 
 the punctuation. But at the close of the third, the 
 final pause must be omitted as inappropriate and un- 
 meaning. 
 
 "On Linden, when the sun was low, 
 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
 And dark as winter was the flow 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly." 
 
 Note. The final pause very often coincides with 
 the rhetorical pause, which was mentioned and exem- 
 plified in the lesson on pauses. If this coincidence 
 does not exist, and no grammatical stop occurs, no 
 pause should be observed in the reading. 
 
 The ccesural paiise, in heroic and blank verse, 
 occurs commonly at the end of the fourth syllable, 
 but changes its place occasionally, to produce a more 
 agreeable and varied harmony. : 
 
 " Not half so swift* | the trembling doves can fly, 
 When the fierce eagle | cleaves the liquid sky : 
 Not half so swiftly | the fierce eagle moves, 
 When through the clouds | he drives the trembling 
 doves." 
 
 "Now came still evening on, | and twilight gray 
 Hadf | in her sober livery | all things clad ; 
 
 * This mark denotes the caesural pause. 
 
 | Some verses are divided by a double cassural pause of shortel 
 duration than that of the common caesura. 
 16 
 
182 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Silence accompanied ; | for beast and bird, 
 
 They* | to their grassy couch, | these* | to theii 
 
 nests 
 Were slunk, | all but the wakeful nightingale: 
 She all night long | her amorous descant sung; 
 Silence was pleased: | now glowed the firmament 
 With living sapphires; | Hesperus that led 
 ■(■The starry host, | rode brightest, | till the moon, 
 Rising in clouded majesty, | at length 
 Apparent queen j unveiled her peerless light, 
 And o'er the dark | her silver mantle threw." 
 
 The caesural pause in anapcestic verse, falls appro- 
 priately near the middle of the line. But harmony 
 and variety require not unfrequently a deviation from 
 this rule. 
 
 "Tis night; | and the landscape is lovely no more: 
 1 mourn; | but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; 
 For morn is approaching. | your charms to restore, 
 Perfum'd with fresh fragrance | and glittering 
 with dew." 
 
 '•My banks | they are furnished with bees, 
 Whose murmur | invites me to sleep; 
 My grottoes | are shaded with trees, 
 
 And my hills | are white over with sheep." 
 
 Note 1. The ccesural pause is to be observed only 
 when it coincides with the rhetorical pause; and the 
 latter may sometimes produce a double pause or demi- 
 cccsura; thus, 
 
 " The look | that spoke gladness and welcome | was 
 gone, 
 The blaze | that shone bright in the hall | was no 
 more; 
 A stranger was there, | with a bosom of stone : 
 And cold was his look, | as I enter'd the door." 
 
 2d. This pause is comparatively slight, and is 
 sometimes entirely omitted in the shorter forms of 
 verse. 
 
 * This pause is sometimes termed demi-casural, as it has but 
 half the length of that which occurs at the caesura. 
 f See note on preceding page. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 183 
 
 u Remote from cities | liv'd a swain 
 Unvex'd with all the cares of' gain; 
 His head | was silver"d o'er with ag£, 
 And long experience | made him sage." 
 
 " Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, 
 Direct my plough | to find a treasure ! " 
 
 Metre. 
 Metre is the measure, or 'time' of rhythm, arising 
 from the arrangement of successive sounds, in ' num- 
 bers'' or groups, corresponding to or contrasted with 
 each other in length or short?iess, force or weakness, — 
 denominated metrical feet, and constituting prosodial 
 1 time.' 
 
 These correspondences and contrasts in sound, pro- 
 duce to the ear a degree of that effect which belongs, in 
 its full expression, to the ' beat ' in music. The value 
 of metre may be made to appear in a very striking 
 light, by reading a passage of poetry, without regard 
 to its rhythm, and in the manner of prose. We may 
 take for example the opening of Paradise Lost, and 
 arrange it to the eye as prose, in the following manner: 
 "Of man's first disobedience ; and the fruit of that for- 
 bidden tree, whose mortal taste brought death into the 
 world, and all our wo, with loss of Eden, till one 
 greater man restore us, and regain the blissful seat, 
 sing, heavenly muse." This passage, if read with a 
 due attention to rhythm, will produce a very different 
 effect to the ear, and become at once invested with a 
 sonorous harmony of utterance. 
 
 "Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit 
 Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
 Brought death into the world, and all our wo, 
 With loss of Eden, till one greater man 
 Restore us, and regain the blissful seat. 
 Sing, heavenly muse!" 
 
 The groups or portions of sound into which rhythm 
 divides itself, are, in the language of prosody, called 
 feet: of these, the following are the principal that 
 occur in English verse ; the iambus, consisting of two 
 
184 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 syllables; the first either short, or unaccented, or both, 
 and the second either long, or accented, or both, as 
 "adore" "forgot* ;" — the trochee, which is exactly 
 the iambus* inverted, as "fatal" "error:" — the 
 pyrrhic, which consists of two short syllables, as the 
 first two words in the phrase "hi a recess:" — the 
 spondee, which consists of two long syllables, as "low- 
 browed:" — the anapcest, consisting of three syllables, 
 the first two short, and the third long, as "com- 
 plaisant" 
 
 The prevalence of any one of these feet, gives rise 
 to the classification of verse as iambic, trochaic, or 
 anapcestic ; each requiring an appropriate but chaste 
 rhythm in the utterance. The spondee and pyrrhic 
 occur only as occasional feet, thrown in for variety in 
 particular verses ; thus, 
 
 "She all night long her amorous descant sung;" — 
 
 " 'Twas from philosophy man learn' d to tame 
 The soil."— 
 
 Note. The trochee and the anapaest, though they 
 usually form distinct species of verse, are occasionally 
 introduced, like the pyrrhic and the spondee, for variety 
 of rhythm ; thus, 
 
 " Lo! from the echoing axe and thundering flame 
 Poison and plague, and yelling rage are fled." 
 
 Iambic verse has the following among other subdi- 
 visions : heroic — or the rhyming couplet, (two lines.) 
 of five iambic feet; or ten syllables in each line. This 
 kind of verse occurs in heroic poems, — (the narrative 
 of heroic actio?is or enterprises :) but it is also used in 
 lofty or grave subjects, generally. A stanza is some- 
 times formed of four heroic couplets, or eight lines 
 rhyming in successive or alternate pairs, and an 
 Alexandrine verse, — a line of six iambic feet, or twelve 
 syllables. See examples of this stanza in the ' Sugges- 
 tions' for practice on this lesson, — under the heads of 
 'moderate' and 'lively' utterance. 
 
 Blank verse differs from heroic metre in consisting 
 
 * These marks are used to distinguish long- and short syllables, 
 and they are transferred arbitrarily to those which are unaccented 
 •**• accented — 
 
READING OF POETEY. 185 
 
 of single lines, and being entirely destitute of rhyme- 
 hence its epithet of 'blank.' This species of verse 
 is restricted to the highest order of subjects. .Examples 
 of heroic and blank verse were given in the applica- 
 tion of the csesural pause. 
 
 Verses, or lines, are arranged in stanzas, or succes- 
 sive portions, according to rhyme, — the correspondence 
 of the sound of syllables to each other; and hence the 
 further subdivision of iambic verse, as classed in 
 couplets or dlstichs. Thus, are formed heroic verse, 
 and the couplet of four iambuses, or eight syllables in 
 each line, (called therefore octosyllabic,) of which the 
 following is an example : 
 
 " The way was long, the wind was cold. 
 The minstrel was infirm and old ; 
 His wither' d cheek and tresses gray 
 Seem'd to have known a better day. 
 The harp, his sole remaining joy, 
 Was carried by an orphan boy." 
 
 A very common form of iambic verse, is the qua- 
 train or stanza of four lines, in which the rhyme occurs 
 on alternate lines, according to their correspondence in 
 the number of their syllables ; the first and third lines 
 containing eight syllables, or four iambic feet; and the 
 second and fourth, six syllables, or three feet; as in 
 the following example : 
 
 " The boy stood on the burning deck 
 
 Whence all but him had tied ; 
 •The flame that lit the battle's wreck, 
 Shone round him, o'er the dead ; 
 
 "Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 
 As born to rule the storm, 
 A creature of heroic blood, 
 
 A proud though childlike form." 
 
 A less common form of the iambic stanza is that in 
 which no verse contains more than three iambic feet or 
 their equivalents. This species of stanza belongs to 
 pieces of great force and animation. 
 
 " It was the wild midnight : 
 A storm was on the sky ; 
 16* 
 
186 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The lightning gave its light, 
 
 And the thunder echoed by. — 
 
 " The torrent swept the glen, 
 The ocean lash'd the shore ; 
 Then rose the Spartan men 
 To make their bed in gore." 
 
 Trochaic verse occurs more rarely in separate com- 
 positions, being usually interspersed with iambic 
 measure, for variety of rhythm. It is exemplified in 
 Milton's L'Allegro. 
 
 "Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
 While the landscape round it measures; 
 Russet lawns and fallows gray, 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray, 
 Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
 Shallow brooks and rivers wide."* 
 
 Anapcestic measure is found chiefly in the following 
 forms: — the longer, containing four feet; and the 
 shorter, containing three. 
 
 Of the former, the following stanzas are examples : 
 
 f" The evening was glorious; and light through the 
 
 trees, 
 Play the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the 
 
 breeze; 
 *The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay 
 On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. 
 
 " For the Queen of the Spring, as she pass'd down 
 
 the vale, 
 Left her robe on the^ trees, and her breath on the 
 
 gale; 
 And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, 
 And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and 
 
 flowers." 
 
 The shorter anapaestic stanza is exemplified in the 
 following extract. 
 
 * Some writers prefer to class this and similar measures under 
 the general head of iambic verse, deficient in one syllable at the 
 beginning of each line. The trochaic scanning, however, is better 
 adapted to reading or recitation. 
 
 f The first foot of such verses, is sometimes an iambus. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 187 
 
 *"Ye winds that have made me your sport, 
 
 ^Convey to this desolate shore 
 Some cordial endearing report 
 
 Of a land I shall visit no more! 
 My friends, do they now and then send 
 
 A wish or a thought after me'! 
 Oh ! tell me I yet have a friend, 
 
 Though a friend i am never to see. 
 
 " How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 
 
 Compar'd with the speed of its flight, 
 The tempest itself lags behind, 
 
 And the swift- wing'd arrows of light. 
 When I think of my own native land, 
 
 In a moment I seem to be there; 
 But alas! recollection at hand 
 
 Soon hurries me back to despair." 
 
 The influence of the various kinds of verse on the 
 voice, may be considered as affecting generally the 
 rate, or movement, and the time, of utterance. Thus, 
 blank verse is remarkably slow and stately in the char- 
 acter of its tone ; and the timing of the pauses requires 
 attention chiefly to length. Heroic verse is commonly 
 in the same prevailing strain, but not to such an extent 
 as the preceding. The octosyllabic metre is generally 
 more quick and lively in its movement, and the pauses 
 are comparatively brief. But, under the influence of 
 slow lime, it gives intensity to grief, and tenderness to 
 the pathetic tone. The quatrain or four-line stanza in 
 the common form, (called sometimes common metre,} 
 has a comparatively musical arrangement of the lines, 
 and a peculiar character in its cadence, — which admits 
 of its expressing the extremes of emotion whether grave 
 or gay. It prevails, accordingly, in hymns and in bal- 
 lads alike, — whether the latter are pathetic or humorous. 
 It derives the former character from the observance of 
 slow rate, and the latter from quick rate. 
 
 Trochaic verse has a peculiar energy, from the 
 abruptness of its character; — the foot commencing 
 either with a long or an accented syllable. In gay 
 pieces, and with quick time in utterance, it produces a 
 
 * See note on preceding page. 
 
188 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 dancing strain of voice, peculiarly adapted to the ex- 
 pression of joy ; while in grave and vehement strains, 
 with slow time, it produces the utmost force and severity 
 of tone. These two extremes are strikingly exempli- 
 fied in Milton's L'Allegro and 11 Penseroso. 
 
 Anapcestic metre has a peculiar fullness and sweetness 
 of melody. Slow time accordingly renders it deeply 
 pathetic, and quick time renders it the most graceful 
 expression of joy. This, as well as iambic and tro- 
 chaic verse, becomes well fitted to express the mood 
 of calmness and tranquillity, when the rale is rendered 
 moderate.* 
 
 Errors. The chief faults which usually occur in 
 the reading of poetry, are the following : 
 
 1st. Too rapid utterance, by which the effect of 
 verse is lost to the ear; the space of time allowed. for 
 the formation of each sound not being sufficient to 
 admit of its completion, and the succession of all so 
 rapid that they tend to obliterate each other, or at least 
 fail of acquiring a just proportion. The general hurry 
 of voice abridges the pauses, and sacrifices every char- 
 acteristic beauty of the metre. 
 
 2d. A plain and dry articulation, which, though 
 sufficiently distinct for meaning, withholds the appro- 
 priate tone of poetry, and turns every line into prose, 
 by neglecting to accommodate the voice to emotion and 
 to rhythm. 
 
 3.d! There is also the opposite fault of a mouthing 
 and chanting tone, producing the effect of bombast, 
 and of mock solemnity. This error consists in carry- 
 ing prolongation and swell to excess, and causes the 
 style of reading or reciting to fall consequently into 
 the manner of extravagance and caricature, rather 
 than that of strong emotion. 
 
 * Most of these explanations may be applied by repeating the 
 examples quoted in the preceding part of this lesson. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 189 
 
 4th. A want of true time, appearing in the dispro- 
 portion of syllables to each other, and to their place, 
 as component parts of metrical feet, — in the irregular 
 ond varying succession of the different parts of a line, 
 as compared with each other, — in the want of corre- 
 spondence and symmetry in the pauses, whether as 
 compared with each other, or with the average rate of 
 utterance. 
 
 Some readers err in all these particulars, and others 
 in several, but most in at least one. The effect of any 
 of these faults is to destroy, as far as it extends, the 
 harmonious flow of verse, and to impair the perception 
 of that harmony in thought, of which poetry is the 
 expression. 
 
 5th. A very prevalent source of faults in the read- 
 ing of poetry, consists in the mechanical observance of 
 the final and ccesural pauses, without regard to mean- 
 ing. 
 
 The error in regard to the final pause, would be 
 exemplified thus, in the following instances : 
 " Of man's first disobedience ; and the fruit 
 
 Of that forbidden tree," &c. 
 Which is read thus, " Of man's first disobedience 
 and the fruit — of that forbidden tree," &c. 
 
 " Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
 
 Had in her sober livery all things clad." 
 Read thus, "Now came still evening on and twi- 
 light gray — had in her sober livery," &c. 
 "And dark as winter was the flow 
 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly." 
 Read, "And dark as winter was the flow — of Iser 
 rolling rapidly." 
 
 The error of ccesural pause would occur thus : 
 " The look that spoke gladness and welcome was 
 
 gone." 
 Read thus, " The look that spoke gladness — and 
 welcome was gone." 
 
190 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 " The blaze that shone bright in the hall was no 
 
 more." 
 Read thus, " The blaze that shone bright — in the 
 hall was no more." 
 
 " The boy stood on the burning deck." 
 Read, M The boy stood on — the burning deck." 
 The ridiculous effects of this error it is unnecessary 
 to describe at length. 
 
 6 th. Reading literally and uniformly according to 
 the rhythm, or the particular metre of a passage or of 
 a stanza, without regard to emphasis. 
 
 This error may be considered as arising either from 
 the want of a clear conception of the sense of what is 
 read, or from the overlooking of particular instances 
 in which the poeiic license of substituting one foot for 
 another, is indulged, as happens in the following line, 
 in which the spondee is twice substituted for the iam- 
 bus. The faulty reading is thus : 
 
 "Now came still evening on," &c, for 
 " Now came still evening on," &c. 
 " The boy stood on the burning deck," for 
 "The boy stood on the burning deck ;" 
 The trochee being substituted for the iambus, as the 
 second foot. 
 
 "And dark as winter was the flow 
 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly," for 
 "And dark as winter was the flow 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly ;" 
 The pyrrhic being substituted for the iambus, as the 
 third foot. 
 
 This fault is sometimes carried so far as to change 
 the accent of words ; thus, 
 
 "Yet beautiful' and bright he stood," for 
 " Yet beautiful and bright he stood ;" 
 With the pyrrhic instead of the iambus, as the 
 second foot. 
 
 Sometimes an improper elision of a syllable or letter, 
 takes place in the same way : 
 
READING OF POETRY. 191 
 
 "No more thus brooding o'er yon heap 
 With av'rice painful vigils keep," for 
 "With avarice painful vigils keep." 
 
 The principle on which the anapaest is to be pre- 
 served in the second foot, is this. The verse admits, 
 for variety, the occurrence of a spondee in the same 
 situation ; and as the latter contains two long syllables, 
 or four short quantities, the former is nothing more than 
 its strict equivalent in numbers ; since it contains ex- 
 actly the same amount of prosodial quantity. 
 
 To the same class of errors belong the following pro- 
 nunciations : "dang'rous" (or dangerous, "sev'ral" 
 for several, "ev'ry" for every, "T th' open sky" 
 for in the open sky. No attention should be paid to 
 such apostrophes : they belong to a style which is 
 become obsolete. 
 
 Note. Poetry occasionally employs a more ancient 
 style of language, than would be appropriate iu prose. 
 This distinction extends not only to the use of words 
 obsolete in prose, but also to forms of accent which 
 are no longer authorized by good usage. Hence we 
 lind in verse such accents as the following : contribute, 
 contemplate, obdu'rate, &c., requiring a change from 
 present custom in pronunciation. The rule 'of taste 
 is, in these and similar, instances, to follow the verse; 
 as we should do in pronouncing "wind" to rhyme 
 with "find," and "wound" to rhyme with "ground," 
 but not in other circumstances. In neither case, how- 
 ever, ought this principle of accommodation to be 
 carried to extremes, as it would be if obeyed in the 
 following or similar cases : 
 
 "Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy." — 
 " Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate" — 
 " Last of my race — on battle plain 
 
 That shout shall ne'er be heard again ! " 
 " His neighbours tell, and tell you truly, 
 In June, December, and in July 
 . 'Tis all the same to Harry Gill." 
 
 7th. A fault which is peculiar to the reading of the 
 stanza in common metre, and which is familiarly 
 
192 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 called 'sing song,' arises from the use of a wrong 
 inflection at the end of the second line. 
 
 The sense is usually left incomplete, or there is a 
 continuance or connexion of thought, which requires 
 the rising slide, at the close of this line; and when 
 these reasons for this inflection do not exist, the princi- 
 ple of the prevalence of the rising inflection in poetry, 
 — mentioned in the rules on inflection, — would still 
 require it, in most instances. The structure of the 
 common metre stanza, makes this inflection peculiarly 
 important to harmony. The closing syllable of the 
 second line contains the sound which is to be repeated 
 for rhyme at the end of the fourth line ; and if the for- 
 mer terminates with the same inflection as the latter, 
 (which it must do if the falling slide is used in the 
 former,) there is a kind of mocking echo, produced by 
 the repetition of the inflection; and this mechanicaL 
 correspondence is rendered peculiarly striking and dis- 
 agreeable, by the additional influence of the rhyme, 
 which takes away all possibility of the fault being 
 obscured by any shade of variety in the sound of syl- 
 lables. 
 
 The. bad effect of this echoing inflection, is farther 
 heightened, in most instances, by the reader overlook- 
 ing the fact, that, in the progress of the stanza, more 
 force and depth of sentiment usually become percep- 
 tible in the third line ; requiring, therefore, a lower 
 pitch at its commencement, than the prevailing strain 
 of the first and second lines. The neglect of an ap- 
 propriate lowering of the note at this point, leaves the 
 voice to drift out of the stanza on the same note nearly 
 with that of the opening strain. Here is an additional 
 pause of the unhappy effect of the echoing notes, at 
 the close of the stanza, as compared with the end of 
 the second line. To the unnecessary sameness of 
 inflection, and the unavoidable sameness of rhyme, is 
 added a perfect sameness of note in both cases ; — all 
 which would be avoided by attending to the proper 
 inflection at the close of the second line, and the true 
 pitch at the beginning of the third. The mocking or 
 echoing cadence would thus be avoided. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 193 
 
 The effect of the above fault will be perceived by 
 reading the following stanzas with the falling inflec- 
 tion instead of the rising, at the end of the second 
 line, and keeping the same pitch on the last two lines 
 as on the first two. 
 
 " But not when the death -prayer is said, 
 The life of life departs ; 
 The body in the grave is laid, 
 Its beauty in our hearts. 
 
 And holy midnight voices sweet 
 
 Like fragrance fill the room; 
 And happy ghosts with noiseless feet 
 
 Come brightening from the tomb." 
 
 Rule. Poetry should be read more slowly than prose, 
 — with a moderate prolongation of vowel and liquid 
 sounds, — with a slight degree of musical utterance, — 
 in exact time, as prescribed by the emotion expressed 
 in given passages, and by the nature of the verse. 
 The vtterance should indicate the metre, but should 
 never render it promi?ient ; and, in rhyming lines, the 
 rising inflection should generally terminate the first; 
 the falling being carefully avoided, unless when indis- 
 pensable to force of emotion, or to the completion of 
 sense not connected with subsequent expression. 
 
 y SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 The fault of rapidity may be most easily corrected 
 by the pupil reading along with the teacher; the exer- 
 cise being simultaneously performed. This practice 
 may be continued till the proper rate of utterance is 
 attained in simultaneous reading. The learner may, 
 in his next stage of progress, read after the teacher, 
 till he acquire such a command of his voice that he 
 can read in the slowest style of utterance that any 
 piece may require. This gradation of exercise may 
 be transferred to the practice of whole classes ; and 
 stanzas suited to this purpose may be selected and 
 arranged in such a succession as to produce, in one 
 17 
 
194 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 order, a gradual quickening of voice, and in another, 
 a gradual retarding of it. 
 
 The different rates of utterance which are most fre- 
 quently required, are the following : 
 
 Slowest: " The bell strikes one. — We take no note of 
 
 time, 
 But from its loss : to give it, then, a tongue, 
 Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke 
 1 feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, 
 It is the knell of my departed hours. 
 Where are they? — With the years beyond the 
 
 flood ! » 
 
 Slow : "This is the place, the centre of the grove : 
 Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. 
 How sweet and solemn is this midnight scene ! 
 The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way 
 Through skies where L could count each little star; 
 The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves; 
 The river rushing o'er its pebbled bed, 
 Imposes silence with a stilly sound. — 
 In such a place as this, at such an hour, 
 (If ancestry can be in aught believed,) 
 Descending spirits have conversed with man. 
 And told the secrets of the world unknown." 
 
 Moderate: " But who the melodies of morn can tell? 
 The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; 
 The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell; 
 The pipe of early shepherd dim descried 
 In the lone valley; echoing far and wide 
 The clamorous horn along the cliffs above; 
 The hollow murmur of the ocean tide; 
 The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, 
 And the full choir that wakes the universal grove." 
 
 Lively: "With merriment and song, and timbrels 
 clear, 
 A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance : 
 The little warriors doff the targe and spear, 
 And loud enlivening strains provoke the dance. 
 They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance 
 To right, to left, they thread the flying maze ; 
 
READING OF POETRY. 195 
 
 Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance 
 Rapid along: with many-coloured rays 
 Cf tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze." 
 
 Quick : " Now, even now, my joys run high, 
 As on the mountain turf I lie ; 
 While the wanton zephyr sings, 
 And in the vale perfumes his wings ; 
 While the waters murmur deep; 
 While the shepherd charms his sheep; 
 While the birds unbounded fly, 
 And with music fill the sky, 
 Now, even now, my joys run high." 
 
 These exercises may be read backward, as a disci- 
 pline of the voice in retarding utterance. The exam- 
 ples may then be read singly and taken at random, 
 with a view to aid the learner in carrying a distinct 
 conception of rate in his mind, so as to apply it when 
 occasion requires. 
 
 The fault of prosaic utterance arises either from the 
 want of a lively conception of the beauty of the ob- 
 jects which poetry presents to the mind, or from a 
 want of 'ear' for the effect of poetic numbers. — The 
 former source of error may be done away by conver- 
 sation between the teacher and the pupil, on the pieces 
 which are read. Such conversation may be led by 
 questions from the teacher, on the nature and charac- 
 ter of the objects which are described, or of the events 
 which are related, in the passage which is read as an 
 exercise. Skilful management in this way may pre- 
 pare the mind of the reader for a full and natural 
 expression of thought by the voice.* 
 
 The want of ear for poetic tone requires attention to 
 considerations more mechanical, and will occasion a 
 necessity for frequent, particular, and minute illus- 
 tration and explanation, on the part of the teacher. 
 The difference between the appropriate tones of poetry 
 
 * A preliminary analysis of this sort may be performed in answer 
 to such questions as the following : " What are the chief objects, 
 incidents, or sentiments, introduced in this piece, paragraph, or 
 stanza? " u What effect have these on the mind, or what feelings 
 do they produce? " " What are the tones of voice that express 
 these feelings? " 
 
1 96 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 and those of prose, must be exemplified; and if the 
 teacher possesses any knowledge of music, it will be 
 found very serviceable, as a source of illustration in 
 this department.* 
 
 The faults of a swelling and chanting utterance may 
 be corrected by requiring of the pupil a previous read- 
 ing of every exercise, in the tone of prose; and, to 
 facilitate this discipline, a certain number of lines may 
 be written olf in the prose form, so as to aid the ear 
 through the eye. When the tone of poetry is added, 
 it should, especially at first, go but little beyond that 
 of prose, and thence be gradually, but carefully in- 
 creased, till it attain the full expression of poetic 
 utterance. 
 
 Errors in time may be best corrected by a very 
 slow and almost chanting tone, accompanied by a beat 
 marking the time as in music. This exercise must at 
 first be performed in conjunction between the pupil 
 and the teacher; it may afterwards be repeated alter, 
 the teacher ; and, when sufficient progress has been 
 made, it may be performed by the pupil alone. 
 
 The faults of mechanical manner in the final and 
 ccesural pause, are to be corrected by regarding only 
 the true rhetorical pause, or by observing that of the 
 punctuation, and by adverting to the nature of the 
 pause required by the versification, so as to discrimi- 
 nate the demi-caesura from the complete caesura, and 
 the short, double caasural from the long, single caesu- 
 ral pause. 
 
 The errors arising from too close an observance of 
 metre, may be corrected by resorting, at first, to th( 
 manner of prose reading ; writing off for this purpose, 
 if necessary, a number of lines or stanzas as prose, 
 on which to practise. Something of the prose tone 
 may be retained as long as there is any risk of the 
 tone of verse becoming too perceptible to the ear. 
 The right point at which to stop, in proceeding from 
 the prosaic tone towards that which becomes faulty, 
 if carried to the opposite extreme, is a thing which 
 
 * Much assistance will be derived here from Dr. Rush's Philos- ' 
 ophy of the Voice, or from a clear and practical compend by Dr 
 Barber, entitled, A Grammar of Elocution. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 197 
 
 depends on the exercise of the living voice, and can- 
 not, therefore, be indicated- with exactness in any 
 written explanations on the subject. It may be 
 spoken of, in general, as a middle point between 
 extremes. But, with the aid of an instructor, the 
 learner will not find it difficult to be ascertained. 
 
 The error in the inflection of the common metre 
 stanzas, is to be rectified by referring to the lesson on 
 inflections and that on tones. 
 
 This fault of habit, however, as it is of very general 
 occurrence, in the reading of hymns, — whether in 
 public or in private practice, — i& deserving of closer 
 attention and more particular exemplification, than 
 most others. 
 
 The following hymn is according^ marked, to be 
 used as an exercise in this department of elocution. 
 The acute accent at the end of the second line, indi- 
 cates the appropriate rising inflection, which, in such 
 instances, inclines slightly upward, in the style pecu- 
 liar to poetry, as distinguished from prose; while the 
 common error, as mentioned on a former page, allows 
 the voice to fall at the end of the second line, with the 
 tone of a cadence, — a fault which destroys the unity 
 of the sentiment, and the connexion of the two main 
 parts of the stanza, besides producing the bad effect 
 of a u sing-song" style at the close, by the unavoida- 
 ble repetition of the peculiar notes of cadence, when 
 they come to be given in their appropriate place. 
 
 The student would do well, here, to turn back, 
 before reading the subjoined example, and reperuse 
 the remarks on the above-mentioned error, which 
 commence at the foot of page 191. Let him then read 
 the stanzas, so as to exemplify the common error, and, 
 afterwards, read them in the manner indicated by the 
 accents. The former reading will be found to have 
 the effect of letting the voice drop at the end of the 
 second line, as it properly does at the close of a sen- 
 tence. By this tone, the poet's thought is mnde to 
 seem complete at the end of the second line: and the 
 third and fourth lines of the stanza are given as a new 
 sentence, disconnected from the preceding; while by 
 keeping the voice up, — with the moderate, suspensive 
 17# 
 
19S ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 rising slide, which belongs to the tone of verse, in the 
 expression of a thought partially. — not fully. — com- 
 plied, the unity of the sentiment, and the connexion 
 of the parts of the stanza, are preserved to the ear. 
 and thy monotonous, false, effect of the frequently 
 recurrhie tone of cadence, is avoided. 
 
 Exercise in the Reading of Hymns. 
 
 There is a land of pure delight. 
 
 Where saints immortal reign: 
 Eternal day excludes the night, 
 
 And pleasures banish pain. 
 
 There everlasting spring abides. 
 
 And never fading flowers : 
 Death, like a narrow sea. divides 
 
 This heavenly land from ours. 
 
 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
 
 Stand dressed in living green: 
 So to the Jews fair Canaan stood, 
 
 While Jordan rolled between. 
 
 But timorous mortals start and shrink 
 
 To cross this narrow sea. 
 And linger trembling on the brink, 
 
 And fear to launch, away. 
 
 Oh ! could we make our doubts remove,— 
 Those gloomy doubts that rise. — 
 
 And see the Canaan that we love. 
 With unbeclouded eyes. — 
 
 Could we but climb where .Moses stood, 
 
 And view the landscape 
 Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood. 
 
 Should fright us. from the shore. 
 
RUDIMENTS OF GESTURE. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 Address, as a combination of speech and action, 
 directs itself to the mind, through the ear and the eye. 
 Regarded as an art, it consists, accordingly, of two 
 parts, — elocution, or the regulated functions of the 
 voice, — and gesture, or the proper management of the 
 body. 
 
 The subject of elocution has been discussed in the 
 preceding pages. Gesture derives its existence from 
 the necessary sympathy of mind and body. It is by 
 no means a mere product of art. A sympathetic action 
 of the outward frame, in correspondence with the 
 activity of the mind, is necessarily exerted in the com- 
 munication of thought and feeling, and results from a 
 law of man's constitution. The repression of such 
 action may, it is true, become an habitual trait in the 
 character of individuals and of nations; so may the 
 opposite characteristic of redundancy in gesture. Ex- 
 amples of these extremes are furnished in the rigid 
 stillness of body, which is customary in the elocution 
 of Scotland, or of New England, and in the ceaseless 
 movement and gesture of the French. 
 
 Education, too, has a powerful influence on delivery 
 The exclusive application of the understanding, a too 
 passive continuance of attention, or a native sluggish- 
 ness of habit, indulged, has a tendency to quell or 
 prevent emotion, and to keep back its corporeal indica- 
 tions; while the habitual and unrestrained play of 
 imagination, or of feeling, impels to vivid expression 
 in tone, and to the visible manifestations of attitude and 
 action. Hence the contrasts of manner exhibited in 
 (lie delivery of the studious and sedentary, or the 
 phlegmatic, and that of the active, the gay, or the 
 imaginative; — both of which usually run to excess, 
 producing the morbid style of lifeiessness and inaction, 
 or ihe pueriie manner of mere animal vivacity. 
 

 200 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Education, as the great agent in human improve- 
 ment, aims not at a local, or particular, but an ideal 
 and general excellence in man. Early culture, there- 
 fore, should be so directed as to free the mental habits 7 
 and their external traces, from the injurious influences 
 of imperfect or erroneous example, and to give the 
 youthful powers that free and generous scope, which 
 their full development requires. The standard of per- 
 fection in address should be formed on no views limited 
 merely by the arbitrary customs of a community, — 
 perhaps by the corrupting influence of neglect or per- 
 version, as regards the discipline of imagination and 
 taste. The genuine style of eloquence is that, surely, 
 which gives the strongest, freest, and truest expression 
 to the natural blending of thought and emotion within 
 the human breast; — breaking through all arbitrary 
 restraint, and submitting only to the guidance of 
 reason, — or, rather, listening intuitively to its sugges- 
 tions. 
 
 The common errors of judgment and taste, on this 
 subject, seem to lie in the supposition that thought and 
 feeling may be separated in their expression. Every 
 day furnishes examples of speakers, who, from the 
 coldness of their manner, seem to think that they can 
 succeed in imparting sentiment without emotion, — and 
 of those, whose rhetorical and mechanical warmth 
 appears to aim at eloquence by emotion not founded 
 on thought. 
 
 The tendency of deep interest, and of earnest, 
 cordial emphasis, is always to impart impulse to the. 
 arm, as well as to the voice. The instruction, there- 
 fore, or the example, which inculcates the suppression 
 of gesture, is defective and injurious; as it checks the 
 free action both of body and mind. The unlimited 
 indulgence of fancy, or the ungoverned expression of 
 feeling, on the other hand, leads either to a puerile or 
 merely passionate manner, and loses the influence of 
 intellect, in a false excitement of emotion. 
 
 A good address is that which, in the first place, may 
 be briefly characterized by the epithet manly. It 
 possesses force, — consequently exemption from all 
 forms of weakness ; — -freedom, (a natural consequence 
 
ACTION. 201 
 
 of force.) implying exemption from constraint and em- 
 barrassment. These are the first and indispensable 
 rudiments of action. Next in importance, is an appro- 
 priate or discriminating style, — the result of genius, 
 or of successful discipline, — which adapts itself to 
 different occasions, subjects, and sentiments ; varying 
 as circumstances require, and avoiding every impro- 
 priety of manner, whether arising from personal habit, 
 or temporary inadvertency and error. Last in order, 
 and as a negative quality, chiefly, may be mentioned 
 grace, or those modes of action which obey nature's 
 laws of symmetry and motion, from the intuitive per- 
 ception of beauty, and the disciplined or natural sub- 
 jection of the muscular system to the ascendancy of 
 mind and taste. 
 
 These elementary principles are all that have been 
 deemed important in the instruction attempted in the 
 following pages. All else, it is thought, may best be 
 left to the mind and manner of the individual, — which, 
 if not perverted or neglected, would, perhaps, render 
 direct instruction, in any case, comparatively unim- 
 portant. 
 
 The effects of accomplished oratory are to be looked 
 for from no single source : they are the fruits of the 
 whole course of mental culture embraced in education. 
 The end of this manual will have been fully accom- 
 plished, if teachers are enabled, by the use of it, to lay, 
 in season, the foundation of habit; so as to preserve 
 the style of their pupils from the prominent faults of 
 uncultivated or perverted taste. * 
 
 *The rules and principles illustrated in the following- pages, are 
 chiefly drawn from that rich and copious volume, Austin's Chiro- 
 nomia, — but modified as experience has suggested, and adapted to 
 the details of practical instruction. 
 
 The above work on Gesture, and that of Dr. Rush on the Voice, 
 afford the fullest instruction in Oratory, that has yet been presented 
 in the English, if not in any other language. 
 
202 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ATTITUDE. 
 MOVEMENTS PREPARATORY TO SPEAKING. 
 
 Oratory consists of two parts ; — one addressing the 
 ear, through the voice; and the other, the eye, by 
 action or gesture. The latter implies a certain attitude 
 of body, as essential to it; and hence the necessity of 
 attending, in the first instance, to the attitude or posi- 
 tion in which the speaker presents himself to the eye. 
 The characteristics of good attitude are firmness, free- 
 dom, appropriateness, and grace. 
 
 It becomes necessary here to advert to the manner 
 in which young speakers introduce themselves to their 
 audience; the introductory bow being seldom what it 
 should be, a salutation of respect, actually addressed 
 to the assembly, but commonly a very awkward at- 
 tempt at a bow, and one so performed as to cast down 
 the eyes towards the floor of the room, or the feet of the 
 speaker, and to show not his countenance, but the 
 crown of his head. A bow, or any other mark of 
 respect, (except prostration,) has no meaning in it, 
 unless the eye of the individual who performs it, is 
 directed to the eyes of those to whom it is addressed. 
 
 In figure 1, of the engraved illustrations, the round- 
 ing of the shoulders, and the dangling or drooping of 
 the arms, are added to the above fault. 
 
 The opposite and somewhat comic effects of the 
 fault of bending the body mechanically, drawing in the 
 elbows,, and turning up the face, are represented in 
 figure 2. 
 
 The proper form of the bow, with its moderate 
 curve, is illustrated in figure 3. 
 
 The common faults of the bow and other preparatory 
 movements, are feebleness, constraint, embarrassment, 
 impropriety, and awkwardness.* 
 
 *In most dialogues, and in some very animated pieces of poetry, 
 the commencing bow should be omitted, as unfavourable to the 
 full effect of the dramatic or poetic character of the delivery, which, 
 b some instances, requires abruptness. 
 
ATTITUDE. 203 
 
 POSITION OF THE FEET.* 
 
 General Remarks, It is of the utmost consequence 
 tr> observe a correct position of the feet, not merely 
 because an incorrect position is ungraceful, but because 
 the easy and natural movement of every part of the 
 body, depends on the feet being properly placed. 
 Awkward and constrained movements of the feet, and 
 rigid, unseemly action, are inseparable from a bad 
 attitude. An easy and graceful position, on the con- 
 trary, favours appropriate and becoming movement, 
 and tends to render it habitual. 
 
 The following sentiments, quoted from Austin's 
 Chironomia, may be serviceable in this place, as in- 
 troductory to details. 
 
 "The gracefulness of motion in the human frame, 
 consists in the facility and security with which it is 
 executed: and the grace of any position consists in the 
 facility with which it can be varied. Hence, in the 
 standing figure, the position is graceful when the 
 weight of the body is principally supported on one leg, 
 while the other is so placed as to be ready to relieve it 
 promptly and without effort." " The foot which sus- 
 tains the principal weight must be so placed, that a 
 perpendicular line, let fall from the pit of the neck, 
 shall pass through the heel of that foot. Of course, the 
 centre of gravity of the body is, for the time, in that 
 line ; whilst the other foot assists merely for the pur- 
 pose of keeping the body balanced in the position, and 
 of preventing ii from tottering." [See Figs. lUth, 1 lth, 
 12th, 13th.] 
 
 " In the various positions of the feet, care is to be 
 taken that the grace which is aimed at be attended 
 with simplicity. The position of the orator is equally 
 removed from the awkwardness o£ the rustic, with 
 toes turned in, and knees bent, and from the affectation 
 of the dancing-master, whose position runs to the 
 opposite extreme. The orator is to adopt such posi- 
 
 *Much of the effect of gesture depends on the attitude in which 
 it is performed, and from which it seems to spring. Attitude is, 
 in fact, a preliminary to gesture, and as the character of attitude 
 depends chiefly on the position of the feet, this last mentioned point 
 becomes the first in order, in practical lessons on gesture. 
 
204 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 tions only as consist with manly and simple grace, 
 The toes are to be moderately turned outward, but not 
 to be constrained ; the limbs are to be disposed so as to 
 support the body with ease, and to admit of flowing 
 and graceful movement. The sustaining foot is to be 
 planted firmly; the leg braced, but not contracted; the 
 .other foot and limb must press lightly, and be held 
 relaxed, so as to be ready for immediate change and 
 action." 
 
 " In changing the positions of the feet, the motions 
 are to be made with the utmost simplicity, and free 
 from the parade and sweep of dancing. The speaker 
 must advance, retire, or change, almost imperceptibly; 
 and it is to be particularly observed that changes 
 should not be too frequent. Frequent change gives 
 the idea of anxiety or instability, both of which are 
 unfavourable. " 
 
 Errors. The common faults in the position of the 
 feet, are, 
 
 1. That of resting on both feet equally, which gives 
 the whole frame a set and rigid attitude. [See Figs. 
 4 and 5.] 
 
 2. Pointing the toes straight forward, which, when 
 combined with the preceding fault, forms the climax 
 of awkwardness and squareness of attitude, and, even 
 when unaccompanied by any other error, has the bad 
 effect of exposing the speaker's side, instead of his full 
 front, and consequently assimilating all his movements 
 and gestures to those of attack in fencing. [See Fig. 6.] 
 
 3. Placing the feet too close to one another, which 
 gives the whole body a feeble and constrained appear- 
 ance, and destroys the possibility of energy in gesture. 
 [See Fig. 7.] 
 
 4. The placing of the feet too widely distant, and 
 'parallel to each other, which gives the speaker's atti- 
 tude a careless and slovenly air. [See Fig. 8.] 
 
 5. The placing of the feet at too wide a distance 
 
ATTITUDE. 205 
 
 from each other, but with the one in advance of the 
 other. This is the attitude of assumption, or of a 
 boasting and overbearing manner. It would be appro- 
 priate in the swaggering air of Pistol or of Captain 
 Bobadil. It is only through gross inattention that it 
 can be exhibited, as it not unfrequently is, on occasions 
 of public declamation. [See Fig. 9.] 
 
 Rule. The body should rest so fully on "one foot, 
 that the other could be raised, for a moment, without 
 Joss of balance ; the toes turned outward ; the feet 
 neither more nor less distant than a space equal to the 
 broadest part of the foot ; and the relative position of 
 the feet such, that if two lines were drawn on the floor, 
 under the middle of the sole of each foot, from the toes 
 to the heel, the li?ies would intersect each other under the 
 middle of the heel of that foot which is placed behind the 
 other. [See Figs. 10, 11, 12, 13.] 
 
 This general rule is applied in detail as follows. 
 The recitation of poetry, as it gives scope to vivid ex- 
 pression, and sometimes requires actual delineation or 
 personation, is" not confined to any one, or even to a 
 few attitudes. The position of the feet, therefore, is 
 various, as accommodated to the different passions or 
 emotions introduced in the piece which is spoken. 
 Declamation, or the delivery of common speeches in 
 prose, does not admit of any degree of representation * 
 the attitude is that of self-possession, and of energetic 
 or persuasive address; and the positions of the feet are 
 limited to the following : 
 
 1. The first position of the right foot, — at the 
 distance and. in the relative situation mentioned be- 
 fore; the right foot is planted firmly, and supports the 
 weight of the body; the left touches the floor but 
 slightly, rising a little at the heel.* [See Fig. 10.] 
 
 * This position is denominated the second, in the Chironomia. 
 But as it is usually the first in the commencement of a speech, tha 
 natural order would seem to present it as the first in instruction and 
 exercise. « 
 
 18 
 
206 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 2. The second position of the right foot keeps the 
 same distance and relative situation of the feet as in 
 the first, (except a slight outward inclination of the 
 left heel, for firm and easy support.) The weight of 
 the body, however, is on the left foot, which is, of 
 course, firmly placed; while the right foot rests 
 lightly on the floor, without rising from it. [See 
 Fig. 11.] 
 
 3. The first position of the left foot* is exactly as 
 the first of the right; — the left taking the place of the 
 right, and the right that of the left. [See Fig. 12.] 
 
 4. The second position of the left is the same, in 
 all respects, as the second of the right; substituting 
 the left for the right, and the right for the left. [See 
 Fig. 13] 
 
 Note. — The observance of these different positions 
 will produce a firm, easy, and graceful attitude, appro- 
 priate to earnest and natural delivery. In complying 
 with rides, however, there should be no anxiety about 
 measured exactness, and, no appearance of studied pre- 
 cision. Force and freedom, and general propriety of 
 manner, are the main points to be aimed at ; grace is 
 but a subordinate consideration ; and strict accuracy is 
 apt to become but a mechanical excellence. 
 
 
 MOVEMENT OF THE FEET. 
 
 Remarks. An occasional change of the position 
 of the feet, is a natural and necessary relief to the 
 speaker, in the delivery of a speech or piece of con- 
 siderable length ; it associates, also, in an appropriate 
 and agreeable manner, with the introduction of a 
 
 * Attitude as affected by the advanced foot. ' ' The ancients restricted 
 their orators to the advance of the left foot. From this rule modern 
 practice deviates entirely. The best speakers, though they occa- 
 sionally advance the left foot, give the preference to the right, and 
 adhere undeviatingly to the rule, that when the left hand is used in 
 the principal gesture, the left foot must be advanced ; and when 
 the principal gesture is made with the right hand, that the righ* 
 foot should be advanced, unless the use of the retired hand if 
 very brief, and soon to give place to the advanced." 
 
 Austin, Chiron. 
 
ATTITUDE. 207 
 
 new train of thought, or a new topic of discourse: 
 and it is the instinctive expression of energy, warmth, 
 and liveliness of manner. Without movement, the 
 speaker's body becomes, as it were, a mass of inani- 
 mate matter. Motion, when carried to excess, how- 
 ever, becomes childish in its effect, as it substitutes 
 restlessness for animation. 
 
 Errors. The principal errors in movement are, 
 
 1. The pointing of the foot straight forward, and 
 neglecting to turn the toes outward in advancing, by 
 which the speaker's body is partly swung round, so as 
 to expose the side, instead of the full front, and to 
 produce the awkward position and gesture mentioned 
 before, under the 'second error' in position. [See 
 Fig. 6.] 
 
 2. Moving sidelong, and, perhaps, with a sliding 
 motion, instead of stepping freely forward. The whole 
 manner of this change resembles that of a preparatory 
 movement in dancing, but has no natural connexion 
 with speaking. 
 
 3. Advancing with a full walking step, approach- 
 ing nearly to a stride, and producing the swaggering 
 gait mentioned in speaking of the 'fifth error' in 
 position. 
 
 4. A short, feeble, and shuffling step, as if the 
 speaker were half resisting, and half yielding to, an 
 external force applied to push him forward. 
 
 5. A set and formal change of position, rendered 
 very apparent, and wearing the air of artificial and 
 studied manner. 
 
 6. An ill-timed movement, not connected with the 
 sense of what is spoken, but made at random. 
 
 7. A motionless and lifeless posture, throwing a 
 constrained and rigid, or very dull aspect over the 
 speaker's whole manner. 
 
 8 An incessant and restless shifting of the feet t 
 
203 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 and perhaps a perpetual gliding from side to side, 
 which is unavoidably associated with childishness of 
 manner. 
 
 Rule. The movement of the feet should always be 
 performed with the toes turned outward, (pointing 
 towards the corners of the room, nearly:) and the 
 movement should be positively advancing' or retiring-, 
 and not intermediate, unless in actual dialogue, or 
 when a single speaker personates two. in imaginary- 
 dialogue. The step should always be free, and should 
 terminate with a firm planting of the foot, but should 
 never be wide : half a common walking step is suffi- 
 cient for change in posture : and. in changing position, 
 that foot which follows the other, should be preserved 
 at its usual distance from it: so that, when the step is 
 finished, the feet are still found at their former dis- 
 tance, and not drawn close to each other, as sometimes 
 inadvertently happens in shifting position. 
 
 The motion of the feet should be carefully timed, 
 so as to occur at the commencement of the parts or 
 divisions of a speech or discourse, at the introduction 
 of new and distinct thoughts, or in the expression of 
 forcible or lively emotion. The true time of move- 
 ment is in exact coincidence with emphasis, and falls 
 appropriately on the accented syllable of the emphatic 
 word. The voice and the bodily frame are thus kept 
 in simultaneous action with the mind. Movement, so 
 performed, never obtrudes itself on the attention, but 
 becomes a natural part of the whole delivery. The 
 changes of position should always be made, (except 
 only the retiring movement, at the close of a para- 
 graph, or of a division of the subject.) during the act 
 of speaking, and not at the pauses : and even the 
 change of posture which necessarily follows the bow, 
 and opens the delivery of the piece, should not be 
 
a:::::::. 209 
 
 made before beginning to speak, bnt along with the 
 utterance of the commencing clause. All changes 
 made before speaking, or in the intervals of speech, 
 become apparent and formal and particularly all pre- 
 paratory motions that seem to adjust or fix the atti- 
 tude of the speaker, and produce the effect of suspend- 
 ing the attention of the audience. The frequency : : 
 movement depends on the spirit of the composition. 
 An animated address, or a declamatory harangue, 
 requires frequent movement. In a grave discourse, 
 on the contrary, the movements are made more Sel- 
 dom. Poetry requires, from its vividness of emotion, 
 many changes of position : prose, from its more equa- 
 ble character, comparatively few. 
 
 The changes of attitude, which occur in poetic reci- 
 tation, are varied according to the kind of emotion 
 expressed : those which generally occur in declama- 
 tion, or the delivery of speeches, are the advancing-, 
 for the bolder or more earnest parts of an address ; 
 and the retiring, for the more calm and deliberate pas- 
 sages. Pieces mat do not commence with the manner 
 of haughtiness or surprise, naturally begin with the 
 first position of the right, as bringing the speaker near 
 to his audience, to facilitate Communication, or as 
 expressing most naturally the emotion implied in the 
 language. Pride, disdain, or scorn, and the manner 
 of astonishment or wonder, if they occur in the open- 
 ing of a speech, would incline more naturally to the 
 second position; as these feelings erect and incline 
 backward the head and the whole frame of the speal 
 Of the former style we should have an example in the 
 opening of Mark Antony's funeral oration over the 
 body of C ae a 
 
 "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;" 
 
 and of the latter, in the commencing strain of CatiMr.es 
 speech to the senate, after his sentence : 
 
 ; B anish'd from Rome ! What "s banish'd. but set free 
 From daily contact with the things I loa:; le 
 
 ' 15* 
 
210 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The advancing and the retiring movements, when 
 considered in detail, are merely transitions from one 
 to another of the positions of the feet, exemplified in 
 the plates. They require attention chiefly to one 
 point, — that every movement must be made by a 
 change of the position of the foot which does not sup- 
 port the body. Confusion, in this respect, sometimes 
 costs the speaker a good many unnecessary motions, 
 which are at variance with dignity and freedom of 
 manner, and produce merely a vacillation about the 
 feet, rather than an actual change of place or posture. 
 To prevent such faults, it may be useful to advert to a 
 mechanical view of the changes which take place in 
 advancing or retiring. — 1st. Advancing: To advance 
 from the first position of the right foot* nothing is 
 necessary but to pass directly, and without the inter- 
 vention of any change, into the first of the left. Errors 
 and hesitancy arise from throwing in some intervening 
 movement. To advance from the first position of the 
 left is, in like manner, nothing but a simple transition 
 to the first position of the right. The advance from 
 the second position of the right foot, is made simply by 
 passing into the first position of the same foot; and so 
 of the corresponding change of the left. — 2d. Retiring: 
 To retire from the first position of either foot, is merely 
 to drop into the second of the same foot. To retire 
 from the second position of either foot, seems a more 
 complicated movement; bnt it is nothing more than to 
 pass directly into the second position of the opposite 
 foot.f 
 
 POSITION AND MOVEMENT OF THE LIMBS. 
 
 Remarks. The general air and expression of the 
 whole body depend much on the position of the legs ; 
 as we may observe by adverting to the feeble limbs of 
 infancy and of old age, the rigid and square attitude 
 of men who follow laborious occupations, or the ar- 
 
 * See engravings, figs. 10. 11. 12. 13. 
 
 f These changes should be repeatedly practised by the learner 
 referring at the same time to the plates. 
 
ATTITUDE. 211 
 
 tificial display £»f limb sometimes acquired at the 
 dancing-school, or exemplified on the stage. 
 
 A firm, free, and graceful position of the limbs, is 
 natural to most human beings, till the influence of 
 awkward custom, or of imperfect health, has destroyed 
 or impaired it. Correct and appropriate posture, there- 
 fore, becomes an important point in preparatory prac- 
 tice and training, intended to aid the formation of 
 habits of rhetorical delivery. 
 
 Errors in Ihe position of the legs occur in the fol- 
 lowing forms : 
 
 1. A rigid and inflexible posture, entirely at vari 
 ance with freedom and grace ; causing the limbs to 
 resemble supporting posts, rather than parts of the 
 human frame; and interfering with the force, ease, and 
 gracefulness of gesture. This fault is partly caused 
 by the wrong position and movement of the feet, men- 
 tioned first among the errors regarding the feet. [See 
 Figs. 4, 5, 7.] 
 
 2. A feeble, though perhaps slight bending of the 
 knees, which gives the general attitude an appearance 
 of timid inefficiency ; and which, when accompanied, 
 as it often is, by a sinking and rising motion, seeming 
 to keep time to the beat of the arm in gesture, pro- 
 duces a childishness of mien, which throws over the 
 speaker's whole manner an air of silliness. [See 
 Fig. 14.] 
 
 3. A fault very prevalent in public declamation, 
 arises from overlooking the fact, that a free and natu- 
 ral attitude requires the knee of the leg which is 
 not supporting the weight of the body, to fall into 
 the natural bend of freedom and rest. The neglect 
 of this point, — a neglect which very naturally arises 
 from general embarrassment or constraint, — has a very 
 unfavourable effect on the whole attitude : in the ' first ' 
 position, it causes, by its necessary action on the 
 
212 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 frame, a slight, but ungraceful throwing up of the 
 shoulder, on the side which supports the body ; [See 
 Fig. 15 ;] and in the ' second ' position, it partly with- 
 draws the speaker's body from his audience, by inclin- 
 ing it backward or too much upward, and by erecting 
 the head in the manner of indifference or disregard. 
 [See Fig. 16.] 
 
 The influence of this attitude is quite at variance 
 with the speaker's aim in delivery, which is to con- 
 vince or persuade; the effect of which, on his attitude, 
 would be to incline it somewhat forward, as in the 
 natural manner of earnest address. No error, appa- 
 rently so slight, is attended with so many bad conse- 
 quences as this ; nothing tends so much to give the 
 speaker the air of speaking at his audience, rather 
 than to them ; yet no fault is more common in the 
 declamation of school and college exhibitions. All 
 that is objectionable in this attitude, however, would 
 be done away, by the speaker merely allowing the knee 
 of the leg which does not support the body, to drop 
 into its natural bend. 
 
 Other errors in the position of the legs, are involved 
 in the faulty positions and movements of the feet; such 
 as the placing of the legs too close or too widely dis- 
 tant from each other. But whatever was mentioned, 
 on this point, concerning the feet, may be applied by 
 the learner himself, to the placing of the limbs. [See 
 Figs. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.] 
 
 Rule. The leg which supports the body, should be 
 firm and braced, but not strained ; and the leg which 
 does not- support the body, shoidd bend freely at the 
 knee. [See Figs. 10, 11, 12, 13.] 
 
 POSITION AND MOVEMENT OF THE TRUNK. 
 
 Remarks. The actions of a human being differ 
 from the motions of a machine, chiefly in that sym- 
 pathy of the entire frame, which makes action appear 
 to proceed from the whole surface, and terminate in 
 
ATTITUDE. 213 
 
 the arm, the hand, or the foot. No gesture, therefore, 
 seems to have life or energy, unless the whole body 
 partake in it, by a moderate, yet perceptible swaying 
 or yielding to accommodate it, and a general impulse 
 of the muscles to enforce it, or impart to it additional 
 and sympathetic energy. Gesture, destitute of such 
 aid. becomes narrow, angular, and mechanical. It 
 is of the utmost consequence, then, that the position 
 and general bearing of the body should be free and 
 unconstrained. 
 
 The following observations are quoted from the 
 work mentioned before, — Austin's Chironomia. 
 
 " The trunk of the body is to be well balanced, and 
 sustained erect upon the supporting limb. Whatever 
 the speaker's position may be, he should present him- 
 self, as Quintilian expresses it, cequo pectore — with the 
 breast fully fronting his audience, — and never in the 
 fencing attitude of one side exposed. What Cicero 
 calls the virilis flexvs lalerum — the manly inclination 
 of the sides, — should also be attended to; for, without 
 this position, the body will seem awkward and ill- 
 balanced. The inclination of the sides withdraws the 
 upper part of the body from the direction of the sus- 
 taining limb, and inclines it the other way, whilst it 
 throws the lower part of the body strongly on the line 
 of the supporting foot. -In this position, the figure 
 forms that gentle curve or waving line which painters 
 and statuaries consider as appropriate to grace. [See 
 Figs. 10, 11, 12, 13.] 
 
 " The gesture of the arms and hands must receive 
 a slight accompanying movement of the trunk, and 
 not proceed from it as from a rigid log. Whilst care 
 is taken to avoid affected and ridiculous contortions, 
 there must be a manly and free exertion of the mus- 
 cles of the whole body, the general consent of which, 
 is indispensable to graceful action." 
 
 Errors. The faults in the management of the 
 trunk, are the following : 
 
 1. A rigid and square position, connected with, and 
 in part proceeding from, errors in the position and 
 movement of the feet and legs. [See ' Errors,' regard- 
 
214 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ing these particulars, and Figs. 4 and 5 in the engrav- 
 ings, already referred to.] 
 
 This position lacks the natural yielding or inclina- 
 tion of the sides, and by destroying the sympathetic 
 action of the muscles of the frame, seems to discon- 
 nect the arm from the body, causing it to resemble an 
 extraneous object accidentally fastened to the trunk, 
 and producing, in the movements of the arm in gesture, 
 the style of motion exemplified in the actions of an ill- 
 contrived automaton, or in the moving of the handle 
 of a pump. [See Fig. 4.] 
 
 2. Exposing the side, somewhat as in a fencing 
 posture. [See Fig. 6.] 
 
 This attitude gives an unmeaning and offensive 
 force to gestures made in front of the body, and com- 
 municates an awkward and painful twist to all ges- 
 tures which fall in an outward direction. The fault 
 of position now alluded to, arises, sometimes, from the 
 habit of addressing the different portions of an audi- 
 ence separately, and by turns, which is itself a great 
 impropriety, unless on special occasions requiring it. 
 The error arises from the placing of the feet, and in 
 the direction given to them in movement, — pointing 
 the toes straight forward from the speaker's body, in 
 the manner which would be exemplified in the natural 
 attitude of an Indian. 
 
 3. Allountig the body to incline too far forward, in a 
 
 stooping or lounging manner. 
 
 This fault takes away all manly dignity and energy 
 from the speaker's appearance, and impairs the general 
 effect of delivery. 
 
 4. Keeping the body too erect, and inclining it away 
 from the audience. 
 
 The bad effects of this fault were described in con- 
 nexion with the ' third ' error in the position of the 
 legs. [See Fig. 16.] 
 
 5. A theatrical protruding of the body, with the ail 
 of display. [See Fig. 17.] 
 
ATTITUDE. 215 
 
 This fault coincides, in most instances, with the 
 wide position of tiie feet formerly objected to, as pro- 
 ducing an overbearing and swaggering mien. 
 
 6. A leaning over to the side on which gesture is 
 made. 
 
 This fault presents the speaker very awkwardly to 
 the eye, — somewhat in the manner of figures in the 
 drawings of young children who have not yet acquired 
 a perfect idea of a perpendicular line, and who repre- 
 sent all objects in a picture as if in the act of falling. 
 The apparent want of security and firmness in this 
 attitude, enfeebles to the eye every action of the speak- 
 er's arm. [See Fig. 18.] 
 
 Rule. The trunk, or main part of the body, should 
 always be in a firm, but free and graceful posture, 
 exposing the full front, and not the side; avoiding 
 equally rigidity and display, and yielding to every 
 impulse of gesture. [See Figs. 10, 11, 12, 13.] 
 
 POSITION AND MOVEMENT OF THE HEAD AND THE COUNTE- 
 NANCE. 
 
 Remarks. The bearing of the head decides the 
 general mien of the body, as haughty and condescend- 
 ing, as spiritless, dejected, embarrassed, — or as free 
 from the influence of such feelings, and wearing an 
 easy, self-possessed, and unassuming expression, aris- 
 ing from tranquillity and serenity of mind.- The first- 
 mentioned of these states of feeling inclines the head 
 upward ; the second causes it to droop, or keeps it fixed 
 by constraint; the last preserves it from these extremes, 
 and allows it an easy and natural motion. The reci- 
 tation of poetry may, in particular instances, authorize 
 or require a very erect, or a drooping posture of the head; 
 but declamation, or public speaking, implies a state of 
 self-command, a rational consideration of effect, and 
 an avoiding of the appearances of extreme emotion. 
 In the latter exercise, therefore, the general air of the 
 head bespeaks respect for the audience, mingling with 
 
216 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 a just self-respect, and avoids alike a lofty or a submis- 
 sive carriage. The eyes and the other features corre- 
 spond to this manner. 
 
 Errors in the position of the head are as follows : 
 
 1. A distant and lofty, or indifferent air, throwing 
 back the head, or carrying it too erect. [See Fig. 
 16.] 
 
 This fault is generally unintentional, and arises, in 
 many instances, from an error in the posture of the 
 limbs, as mentioned before. 
 
 2. A bashful drooping of the head, accompanied 
 with downcast eyes. 
 
 This manner takes away the effect of delivery. As 
 the mind always appears to follow the eye, the speak- 
 er's attention seems not .to be directed to his audi- 
 ence. 
 
 3. The head remaining fixed and still, under the 
 influence of embarrassment and constraint. 
 
 This fault is much aggravated, if attended, as it 
 u dually is, by a vague wandering, or a motionless ab- 
 straction of the eye, and, perhaps, an occasional working 
 of the eyebrows. The effect of these manifestations of 
 u.ieasiness is, of course, very unfavourable to the influ- 
 ence of the speaker's delivery. 
 
 4. An objectionable movement of the muscles of the 
 countenance. 
 
 This fault sometimes assumes the form of an un- 
 meaning smile, or an equally unmeaning froxen ; 
 soinetimes, of too much excited play of the features, 
 with an incessant and inappropriate turning or staring 
 of the eyes ; and sometimes, in vehement declamation, 
 an ungraceful protrusion of the lips. 
 
 Rule. The head should neither be hung bashfu/.y 
 down, nor carried haughtily erect: it should turn easily 
 
GESTURE. 217 
 
 but not rapidly, from side to side; the eyes being 
 directed generally to those of the persons who are 
 addressed, but not fastening particularly on individu- 
 als. The abstraction of the mind, implied in the ap- 
 propriate recitation of some pieces in poetry, may, 
 however, render it inconsistent to give to delivery the 
 air of address ; as, for example, in the reciting of any 
 passage in which a distant or imaginary scene is called 
 up vividly to the thoughts. The eyes should, in such 
 cases, be directed away from those of the audience, 
 and be fixed on vacancy. All inappropriate and 
 ungraceful play or working of the features, should be 
 carefully avoided. 
 
 GESTURE. 
 
 POSITION AND MOVEMENT OF THE HAND. 
 
 Remarks. The hand is, in most forms of action, 
 the great organ of the mind. Its power of expression 
 in communication^ when used alone, or accompanied 
 by speech, is peculiar and extensive. The position or 
 action of the hand invites, repels, refuses, rejects, im- 
 plores, or threatens, more forcibly than even the voice 
 or the countenance. The language and meaning of 
 gesture lie in the hand ; and these cannot be expressed 
 without an appropriate use of this organ. The arm 
 is, in gesture, but the inferior agent to move and exert 
 the hand, the great instrument of all expression ad- 
 dressed to the eye. The tones of the voice, and the 
 action of the features, are, no doubt, the chief vehicles 
 of meaning. But next to these comes the hand, as an 
 important agent in delivery: and, in some kinds of 
 emotion, it even takes the precedence of the voice : — 
 in all those passions, for instance, which by their 
 excess tend to render the tongue mute. In unimpas- 
 sioned speaking, the gesture of the hand is not so 
 prominent; but it still serves a useful purpose in 
 19 
 
218 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 accompanying, aiding, and enforcing the impressions 
 produced by the voice. It helps to concentrate the 
 action of the senses towards the objects which are 
 presented to the mind, and, though a subordinate, is 
 yet an indispensable, instrument of appropriate and 
 impressive delivery. 
 
 Errors. The chief faults in the position of the 
 hand, are, 
 
 1. A feeble gathering in of the fingers towards the 
 palm. [See Fig. 19.] 
 
 The proper use of the hand is thus lost. As the 
 fingers are bent in, in this position, they hide the 
 palm, — a part which bears the same reference to the 
 use of the hand in gesture, that the countenance does 
 to the head. Without the exhibition of the features, 
 there can be no meaning gathered from the view of 
 the head ; so without the exposure of the palm, there is 
 no expression in the hand. The open hand is essential 
 to most gestures, on the principle that such a position, 
 and no other, harmonizes with the idea of communi- 
 cation. The error now objected to will appear in its 
 true light, if we advert to the difference .between the 
 acts of giving and receiving, as they influence the posi- 
 tion of the hand. Suppose, for a moment, the case of 
 two persons in the attitudes relatively, of giving and 
 receiving alms. The individual who receives the gift, 
 holds his hand in a hollow position, for the sake of 
 receiving and retaining what is bestowed ; while the 
 individual who bestows, necessarily opens the hand, 
 to convey to that of the other the gift which is con- 
 ferred. The position, in the former case, which is 
 nearly that now mentioned as a fault, is that of recep- 
 tion, and cannot be appropriate in delivery, which is 
 an act of communication or of transferring. The 
 hand partly closed has no speaking expression to the 
 eye ; to produce this effect, it must be opened fully 
 and freely. [See Fig. 20.] 
 
 2. A flat and square position of the hand, with the 
 fingers straight and close. [See Figs. 21 and 22.] 
 
GESTURE. 219 
 
 This position has to the eye the effect of the me- 
 chanical placing of a piece of board, rather than 
 the appropriate appearance of a human hand, — from 
 which the idea of pliancy can never be naturally sep- 
 arated. The awkward air of this position is much 
 increased, if the thumb is placed close to the ringers. 
 [See Fig. 22.] The want of separation in the placing 
 of the fingers, has an influence nearly as unfavourable 
 as that of allowing the hand to be partly closed. 
 
 3. A half 'pointing position of the fingers, which 
 has neither the definiteness of pointing, nor the speak- 
 ing expression of the open hand. [See Fig. 23.] 
 
 This fault savours of studied and artificial grace, 
 whilst every point of detail in gesture should be char- 
 acterized by a natural and manly freedom. 
 
 4. An indefinite spreading of the fingers, which 
 lacks energy and expression. [See Fig. 24.] 
 
 This style of position has, unavoidably, a vague 
 and feeble character, which impairs the effect of ges- 
 ture, and seems to take away the expression of life 
 from the hand. 
 
 5. A displayed position of the fingers, differing from 
 the correct position, by inclining the little finger out- 
 ward and downward, instead of inward ; and parting 
 it too widely from the other fingers. [See Fig. 25.] 
 
 This position seems studied, finical, and affected; 
 it produces the effect of caricature, and, from its minc- 
 ing style, is unavoidably associated with feebleness. 
 
 6. Too frequent use of the repressing gesture which 
 turns the palm downward. [See Fig. 26.] 
 
 This gesture is appropriate in particular descriptive 
 passages of poetry, but is unsuitable for prose, unless 
 in a highly imaginative style. 
 
 7. Too frequent use of the pointing gesture^ which 
 
220 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 gives an unnecessary peculiarity and emphasis to 
 manner. 
 
 This position of the hand is appropriate and expres- 
 sive in particular allusions and emphatic descriptions. 
 But its propriety in such circumstances, suggests 
 equally its unsuitableness for a prevailing gesture. 
 There are three faults very common in the manner of 
 pointing; all of which render the frequency of the 
 gesture more striking and disagreeable. The first of 
 these is the gathering up, and pressing tight with the 
 thumb, all the fingers but the one which points ; and 
 the pointing finger projected perfectryjstraight. There 
 is a rigidness of expression in this style, which is un- 
 favourable in its effect on the eye. [See Fig. 27.] The 
 second fault is the opposite one, of all the fingers bend- 
 ing feebly inward, and the thumb scarcely, if at all, 
 touching them; the fore-finger not projecting suffi- 
 ciently to suit the purpose of pointing. [See Fig. 28.] 
 The third fault is that of letting the hand droop from 
 the wrist downward; the fingers generally, and the 
 thumb spreading to a great distance, and the fore- 
 finger rising at the middle. [See Fig. 29.] 
 
 8. Placing the hand edgewise, with the fingers 
 straight and close. [See Fig. 30.] 
 
 The motion produced in consequence of this posi- 
 tion, is like that of an instrument for cutting, but 
 possesses none of the appropriate effects of delivery. 
 
 9. Clenching the hand, in the expression of great 
 energy. [See Fig. 31.] 
 
 This form of action may be natural and appropriate 
 in the intense excitement produced by some of the 
 boldest flights of poetry, in which the presence of 
 others is forgotten by the speaker, when he becomes 
 entirely rapt in an imaginary scene of vehement pas- 
 sion. But it is utterly inappropriate in public discourse 
 or address, which always implies the speaker's con- 
 sciousness of his auditory; a just respect to whom 
 should forbid all indecorous action, all approach to 
 
GESTURE 221 
 
 bullying attitudes, and, on the same general principle, 
 all extravagant expressions of excitement. 
 
 i 
 
 Rule. The position of the hand in the recitation 
 of poetry, depends on the emotion which is expressed 
 in the language of the piece;" and the intensity of 
 feeling which is peculiar to poetry gives rise to varied 
 attitude and action, and, consequently, to various posi- 
 tions, of the hand. But in declamation, or speaking 
 in the form of address, variety is not generally so 
 important to the effect of delivery. Energy and pro- 
 priety become, in such exercises, the chief objects of 
 attention; and although there are some prose pieces 
 entirely imaginative or romantic in character, and 
 occasional passages in most speeches which produce a 
 strong emotion ; yet the general style of a public ad- 
 dress may be considered as differing widely from the 
 manner of poetic excitement, and inclining to the 
 plainer forms of gesture, and consequently to the ordi- 
 nary positions of the hand, when used for enforcing 
 sentiment, rather than for expressing effects produced 
 on the imagination. Pointing, and other varieties of 
 gesture, may be occasionally proper in declamation ; bid 
 the prevailing action should be that of earnest asser- 
 tion and persuasive appeal, which are expressed with 
 the open hand. 
 
 The appropriate position of the hand, for the com- 
 mon purposes of speaking, implies that it is fully open, 
 with an expression combining firmness, freedom, and 
 grace; the palm sloping moderately from the wrist 
 towards the fingers, and from the thumb towards the 
 fourth or little finger ; — avoiding thus the flat position 
 mentioned among the errors on this point; the thumb 
 freely parted from the fingers, but not strained ; the 
 fore-finger nearly straight, and moderately parted from 
 the other fingers ; the two fingers in the middle of the 
 19* 
 
222 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 hand, close together, and inclining somewhat inward; 
 the 'fourth finger parted at some distance from the oth- 
 ers, and inclining more inwardly than any. [See Fig. 
 32;] 
 
 This position of the 'hand, when minutely analyzed, 
 may, at first view, seem complex and comparatively 
 difficult; but the difficulty is more apparent than real; 
 for it is the natural posture of the hand, in reference to 
 the common and habitual actions of life ; the fore-finger 
 inclining to a straighter and firmer position than the 
 other fingers, because more constantly in exercise, and 
 therefore rendered more rigid ; the second and third 
 fingers inclining somewhat inward, as not possessing 
 the force and firmness of the fore-finger, and keeping 
 close together, as they naturally do in the common 
 actions of grasping, lifting, &c. ; and the fourth finger 
 inclining more inwardly than any, because the feeblest 
 of the fingers. The parting of the fore-finger and the 
 little finger from the rest, is essential to the idea of the 
 hand presented fully and freely open.* 
 
 The embarrassment which young learners sometimes 
 feel in attempting a correct position of the hand, is 
 partly owing to previous fixed habit, and partly to the 
 slight difficulty of attending separately to the position 
 of each finger, a difficulty exemplified when we try to 
 do, at the same moment, a different action with each 
 hand. A little practice and attention are for the most 
 part sufficient to obviate the difficulty alluded to. But 
 if, in any instance, it should prove insuperable, the 
 simple position of the open hand may be substituted; 
 avoiding only the flat posture, and the thumb close to 
 the fingers. 
 
 POSITION AND MOVEMENT OF THE ARM. 
 
 Remarks. The freedom and force of gesture depend 
 entirely on the appropriate action of the arm. The free 
 
 * One of the happiest illustrations of this natural point of pro- 
 priety in taste, occurs in West's celebrated picture, ' Christ re- 
 jected,' and may be traced in nearly every figure of all great 
 productions in painting and sculpture. 
 
GESTURE. 223 
 
 play of the arm gives scope to gesture, which would 
 otherwise be narrow, confined, and inexpressive. The 
 elevated thoughts and grand images abounding in poe- 
 try, require a free, lofty, and energetic sweep of the 
 arm in gesture; but speaking which has persuasion 
 for its object, is naturally characterized by a less com- 
 manding and less imaginative style of action. Rea- 
 soning, arguing, or inculcating, in the usual manner 
 of speech, requires chiefly enforcing or emphatic ges- 
 ture. Poetry abounds so in variety of emotion, that 
 the action which accompanies the recitation of it, is 
 frequent and forcible, and marked by vivid transitions, 
 with a predominance of gracefulness in the whole man- 
 ner. The style of speaking adapted to prose, is more 
 calm and moderate, and more plain in its character ; 
 coinciding thus with the tenor of thought and language 
 which usually pervades prose composition. 
 
 Action is the first, the simplest, and the most striking 
 expression of feeling. It eannot, therefore, be dispensed 
 with, but at the risk of losing the natural animation of 
 manner. Under the regulation of taste, it becomes an 
 harmonious and powerful accompaniment to speech, 
 imparting additional force to language in all its forms, 
 and aiding a full and clear conception of what is ex- 
 pressed. Gesture is not a mere matter of ornament, as 
 it sometimes is supposed Its main object is force of 
 impression : the beauty or grace which it imparts to 
 delivery is but an inferior consideration. To the young 
 learner, however, whose habits are yet forming, the 
 cultivation of correct and refined taste in regard to 
 gesture, is a matter of great importance ; and several 
 of the following errors are mentioned as such, with a 
 view to this consideration. 
 
 Errors. The leading faults in the management of 
 the arm are the following : 
 
 1. A feeble and imperfect raising or falling of the 
 arm, and the allowing it to sink into an angle at the 
 elbow. [See Figs. 6, 8, and others in which the elbow 
 is angular.] 
 
 This style of gesture has several bad effects, besides 
 
224 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 its angular form, which is objectionable to the eye, as 
 associated with mechanical motion and posture, rather 
 than those of an animated being. It narrows and 
 confines every movement of the arm, and prevents the 
 possibility of free and forcible action, which can flow 
 only from the whole arm fully, though gracefully, ex- 
 tended: 
 
 2. The opposite fault is that of an irregular force, 
 which throws out the arm perfectly straight and rigid. 
 [See Fig. 4] 
 
 This position of the arm has also an objectionable 
 and mechanical aspect, at variance with the idea of a 
 natural use of the human frame and its limbs. 
 
 3. The habitual performing of gesture in a line 
 from the speaker's side. 
 
 An occasional gesture of this sort may be proper ; 
 but a constant use of it gives either a feeble or an 
 ostentatious air to delivery, as trie gesture happens to 
 be made with more or less energy. 
 
 4. A horizontal swing of the arm, used invariably. 
 
 This action expresses negation appropriately, and 
 may be occasionally employed for other purposes ; but 
 it lacks force for energy and emphasis, and if habitu- 
 ally used to the exclusion of other gestures, it renders 
 the speaker's manner tame and ineffective. 
 
 5. A want of distinction in the use of gesture, in 
 regard to the lines in which it terminates, the space 
 through which it passes, and the direction in which it 
 moves. 
 
 This indiscriminate use of gesture interferes, of 
 course, with its appropriate expression; substituting 
 one style of action for another, and serving, some- 
 times, no other purpose than to manifest the anima- 
 tion of the speaker, instead of imparting energy tG 
 meaning or emotion. [See Rule 2, for distinction of 
 gesture. \ 
 
GESTURE. 225 
 
 6. The improper use of a poetic or romantic style of 
 gesture, in the delivery of a prose speech or discourse. 
 [See Rule 2.] 
 
 This style is as inappropriate^as would be the read- 
 ing of prose with the tones of poetry, and sacrifices 
 the manly effect of simplicity and directness, for a 
 false excitement of fancy. 
 
 7. A florid redundancy of gesture, producing inces- 
 sant action and change of posture. 
 
 The effect of this fault is to impart a restless, un- 
 meaning, and puerile activity of manner, which is 
 inconsistent with deep feeling or grave thought. 
 
 8. The opposite error is that of standing motionless 
 and statue-like, in every limb. 
 
 This fault gives a dull, heavy, and morbid air to the 
 speaker's manner, and deprives the train of thought 
 expressed in the composition, of its natural effect on 
 the mind. A clear perception of meaning, or a true 
 interest in the subject of what is spoken, is justly 
 expected to awaken the intellect of the speaker, and 
 animate him to activity of feeling. 
 
 9. The fault of an arbitrary and studied variety of 
 action. 
 
 To avoid deadness and monotony it is not necessary 
 to assume any emotion not authorized by the sense of 
 what is uttered. Variety of style is not always called 
 for, as we may observe in the appropriate delivery of 
 a long strain of vehement invective, in which the 
 chief expression is that of reiterated force ; or as we 
 may observe in a connected train of calm thought or 
 reasoning on a single point. The author of the com- 
 position is on all occasions accountable for the transi- 
 tions of feeling; and the speaker is at fault only when 
 he obviously omits their expression. A continuance 
 of moderate and gentle action in persuasion, forms, 
 sometimes, the very eloquence of delivery. All ae* 
 tion, which does not spring directly from emotion 
 
226 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 expressed in the piece which is spoken, is unnatural 
 and offensive ; and the more sprightly and varied its 
 character, the worse is its effect. 
 
 1". The opposite eFror is that of using but one or 
 two gestures, which perpetually recur in all pieces, and 
 in all passages, how different soever their style and 
 expression may naturally be. 
 
 There is a dryness and inappropriateness about this 
 manner, which always renders it mechanical and 
 wearisome, and sometimes absurd in its application to 
 sense. 
 
 11. Gestures performed in a manner which is regu- 
 lated by their supposed gracefulness, rather than their 
 connexion with meaning. 
 
 Grace is a negative rather than a positive quality of 
 gesture ; its proper effect is to regulate, chasten, and 
 refine. Action, if just, is called for from other con- 
 siderations than those of beauty or ornament, — from 
 the natural demands of forcible and warm emotion : it 
 does not suggest or create a single movement which 
 would not otherwise exist. The action which en 
 has elicited, grace is to preserve from awkwardness. 
 Beyond this point, true grace ceases to ex: 
 
 12. The most childish of all faults is that of imita- 
 tive gesture) in which the speaker represents objec 
 actions by pantomimic motic: 
 
 The distinct and vivid conceptions produced by the 
 recitation of poetry, may sometimes identify the im- 
 agination of the speaker so entirely with the forms 
 which the poet has called up to the mind, that the 
 action of sympathy passes into that of assimilation; 
 and ? in lively and humorous emotion, actual imitation, 
 
 sly indulged, is natural and appropriate. 
 not so in prose addresses, on serious occasions, which 
 imply a full self-possession and a becoming dignity on 
 the part of the speaker, with a constant regard to bis 
 audience. Imitative action in such circumstances, is 
 
GESTURE. 227 
 
 still more trivial, indecorous, or absurd, than it would 
 be in private conversation. 
 
 13. The want of the observance of time in gesture, 
 which seems to disjoint the action, and separate it from 
 the expression of the voice. 
 
 A gesture made before or after the emphatic word 
 to which it naturally belongs, is entirely out of place. 
 The moment, when a given action mxtM come to its 
 acme, or to its closing movement, is precisely thai of 
 tittering the accented syllable of the emphatic word. 
 The impulse given to the frame by the energy of em- 
 phasis, being exactly at this point, whatever motion of 
 the arm is to accompany it, must fall, (if performed 
 naturally,) in strict coincidence with it. Hence the 
 necessity of timing the preparatory movement of ges- 
 ture, so that the action of the arm shall neither outstrip, 
 nor lag behind, the prominent force of voice. 
 
 14. The neglect of the preparatory movement of 
 gesture, by which action is rendered either too abrupt 
 or too confined. 
 
 Every rhetorical action consists ef two parts, a pre- 
 paratory and a terminating movement. A gesture per- 
 formed by the human arm must necessarily be so far 
 complex ; as the hand caunot, with propriety of effect, 
 or even with ease, spring at once to a given point. A 
 deliberate and dignified manner of action, derives much 
 of its character from the accommodation of this pre- 
 paratory motion to time and space ; performing it with 
 due slowness; avoiding hurry or jerking quickness; 
 allowing it also free scope for the natural and uncon- 
 strained play of the arm. and, sometimes for the appro- 
 priate sweep of the style of gesture. Quick, narrow, 
 and angular movements render action mechanical and 
 ineffective. This result usually takes place in conse- 
 quence of delaying gesture, till the emphasis occurring 
 leaves no adequate time for forming a full gesture : a 
 brief, hasty, and very limited movement, is accordingly 
 produced, in the manner that would necessarily exist 
 if the arm were repressed by material obstacles. This 
 
228 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 fault sometimes arises, however, from the opposite 
 error of anticipating the gesture, and commencing and 
 finishing the preparatory movement too soon; the arm 
 remaining in suspense for the occurrence of the appro- 
 priate word, and then suddenly dropping into the 
 gesture. 
 
 15. Using, with unnecessary frequency, the gesture 
 of the left hand, and, sometimes, in alternation with 
 that of the right. 
 
 The left hand may he used exclusively, if the per- 
 son or persons addressed are situated on the left of the 
 speaker ; as by one-of the speakers in a dialogue, or in 
 an address which is so composed as to be directed to 
 different portions or divisions of an audience, separ- 
 ately, as in the opening and closing addresses at an 
 exhibition. The occasional use of the left hand in the 
 delivery of a long speech, is a natural and agreeable 
 change, in passing to a new topic of discourse, or en- 
 tering on a new strain of emotion in recitation. [See 
 Figs. 12, 13, 45, 49, 53.] But too frequent recourse to 
 it, or to use it in the early part of an address, destroys 
 its good effect; and to use it in an alternate and anti- 
 thetic manner, to correspond to the action of the right 
 hand, has a studied and mechanical air of precision, 
 unfavourable to the general style of delivery. 
 
 16. Too frequent use of both hands in the same form 
 of gesture. 
 
 The occasional use of both hands, in warm and 
 earnest appeal, in the expression of thoughts of vast 
 extent, or in the intensity of poetic emotion, is favour- 
 able in its effect. [See Figs. 46, 50, 54,] But it 
 should be reserved for such circumstances in delivery, 
 and not introduced at random, or for imaginary va- 
 riety. 
 
 17. Making gestures occasionally, and by fits ; the 
 hand dropping, at every interval of a few moments, 
 to the side, and then rising anew to recommence 
 £i:tion. 
 
GESTURE. 229 
 
 The dropping of the hand has properly a meaning 
 attached to it, as much as any other action used in 
 speaking. It ought to indicate a long pause, and a 
 temporary cessation of speech, as at the close of a para- 
 graph or of a division of a subject ; or it may be used 
 in recitation to denote grief, or any state of mind which 
 quells the expression of gesture, or which for a time 
 overpowers the feelings, and suspends the utterance. 
 Generally, the hand should not drop at the conclusion 
 of a gesture, but should either remain, for a few mo- 
 ments, suspended, in the position in which the last 
 gesture closed, or pass into the preparation for a ges- 
 ture following. The use of the suspended hand ap- 
 pears natural and expressive, if we advert to its effect 
 in conversation, or in appeal and argument. Gesture 
 becomes, — in this way, — easy and unobtrusive, and 
 ceases to attract the eye unnecessarily ; while the 
 perpetual rising and falling of the hand in the irregu- 
 lar manner above alluded to, makes gesture unneces- 
 sarily conspicuous, and gives it an air of formality 
 and parade. 
 
 The abrupt discontinuance of gesture by twitching 
 back the hand, somewmat in the manner of sudden 
 alarm, has a very bad effect ; yet it is a fault to which 
 young speakers are very prone, from their embarrass- 
 ment of feeling. 
 
 An upward or inward rebound of the hand, after the 
 termination of the gesture itself, is often added to the 
 frequent return of the hand to the side. Dropping the 
 hand heavily, and allowing it to shut as it drops, is 
 another fault of this class. The speaker's action is 
 apt, in consequence of such gestures, to become a suc- 
 cession of flourishes of defiance, rather than of persua- 
 sive movements. 
 
 18. Using gesture without regard, to the character of 
 the piece which is spoken, as plain or figurative, mod- 
 erate or empassioned in style. 
 
 A figurative style of language forms at once an 
 expression and an excitement of imagination, — or the 
 active states of thought and feeling combined. It im- 
 plies, therefore, a full activity of manner in the speaker. 
 20 
 
230 ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 The intense action of mind influences by sympathy the 
 corporeal frame, and impels to gesture; and the absence 
 of action, in such circumstances, creates an unnatural 
 disruption or separation of the mutual influences of 
 mind and body. 
 
 Narration and description in plain style, however, 
 make no demand for gesture, in circumstances of excited 
 feeling, arising from other causes than those which 
 exist in the language uttered at the moment. — a case 
 which would be exemplified in the statement of a fact 
 connected, but not immediately, with an injury or 
 grievance, or in the commencement of a narration 
 which is to terminate tragically, or in the description 
 of the scene of a remarkable event. 
 
 Neither does common definition, statement, cr ex- 
 planation, or unempassioued discussion, call for ges- 
 ture, unless in very moderate, forms, and at intervals. 
 Whatever is addressed purely to the understanding, 
 can derive little aid from rhetorical action. Feeling 
 and imagination are the great springs of gesture ; and 
 without these to impel it, it becomes lifeless and me- 
 chanical. 
 
 19. Placing the hand upon the heart irregularly, 
 without attention to the nature of the feeling, or the cir- 
 cumstances of speech under which this action is appro- 
 priate. 
 
 This gesture is applicable chiefly to the personal 
 feelings of the speaker ; and, in a very vivid style of 
 description, as in the recitation of poetry, it may be 
 uSed in allusion to deep internal feeling, contrasted 
 with that which is produced by external causes. Thus, 
 it may appropriately occur in the second of the follow- 
 ing lines : 
 
 "Slight are the outward signs of evil thought; 
 
 Within, — within; 'twas there the spirit wrought.' , 
 
 But, generally, this form of action is erroneously 
 applied to all cases of inward emotion, and sometimes 
 even to the bare mention of the mind and heart, in 
 contradistinction from the body. 
 
 The errors in the mode of making this gesture are 
 
GESTURE. 231 
 
 very numerous. 1st. Placing the hand on the pit of 
 the stomach, instead of on the breast, [See Fig. 33.] 
 2d. Bringing the hand round towards the left side. 
 [See Fig. 34.] 3d. Elevating the elbow as in the 
 manner of playing on the violin. [See Fig. 35.] 4th. 
 Hugging the body with the whole arm. [See Fig. 
 36.] 5th. Touching the breast with the thumb, in 
 the manner of familiar and humorous representation. 
 [See Fig. 37.] 6. Pressing the tips of the fingers 
 against the heart. [See Fig. 38.] 
 
 20. Making gestures across the speaker's body. 
 
 This fault takes place in dialogue, when one speaker 
 employs the hand which is farthest from the other 
 speaker, instead of using that which is nearest to him. 
 An awkward and feeble sort of gesture is thus pro- 
 duced; or the speaker is compelled, in using it, to turn 
 his side to the audience, which destroys the effect of 
 dialogue, by hindering the full view of the persons 
 and countenances of the speakers. [See Fig. 39. # ] 
 
 When this fault occurs in single declamation, it has 
 a very objectionable air of display and assumption, in 
 its upward lines, and a want of speaking effect, in its 
 lower movements. [See Figs. 41 and 42.] 
 
 21. An inward sweep of gesture, instead of an out- 
 ward, downward, Or upward movement. 
 
 This fault has a left-handed air, which borders on 
 the ridiculous, and adds no force to delivery. 
 
 22. Involuntary and inadvertent gestures, arising 
 from embarrassment and confusion. 
 
 # Faults of this class are top numerous and varied, to 
 admit of description in an elementary book. The 
 principal are a twisting and working of the fingers, a 
 dangling of the hand, an unintentional clenching of 
 it, or thrusting it into the pocket, or resting it on the 
 side, a sympathetic motion of the unemployed hand, in 
 
 * The correct position for dialogue is exemplified in figure 40. 
 
232 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 imitation, as it were, of the gestures made by the 
 other hand. 
 
 Rule I. The arm, when not employed in preparing 
 for the terminating act of gesture, should never exhibit 
 an angle at the elbow, but be always freely extended, 
 yet without the rigidness of a straight line ; a mod- 
 erate sinking of the elbow being requisite to freedom 
 and grace. [See Figs. 10, 11, 12, 13.] 
 
 II. The various emotions of poetic recitation pro- 
 duce a great variety of action. But the usual manner 
 of delivery in a speech or discourse, is naturally more 
 restricted, as conversant with a less vivid state of 
 feeling. 
 
 The following are the principal gestures appropriate 
 in address : 
 
 1. The descending* used with great energy in 
 strong assertion and vehement argumentation, in em- 
 phatic declaration and forcible appeal. [See Figs. 43, 
 44, 45, 46.] 
 
 2. The horizontal* (the hand rising to a horizontal 
 level with the shoulder,) appropriate in elevated and 
 general thought or description, and in geographical and 
 historical allusions. [See Figs. 47, 48, 49, 50 ] 
 
 3. The ascending* (the hand rising to a level, 
 nearly, with the head,) expressive of sublimity of 
 thought or feeling. [See Figs. 51, 52, 53, 54.] 
 
 From these three principal lines of gesture arise 
 three others : 
 
 1. The gesture in front, \ appropriately used in 
 strong or emphatic statements, and terminating in the 
 descending, horizontal, or ascending lines, according to 
 the character of the thought and the language. [See 
 Figs. 43, 47, 51.] 
 
 2. The gesture oblique^ falling in an intermediate 
 
 * These designations arise from the position in which the gesturw 
 terminates, as may be seen by the plates. 
 
 f These designations refer to the person and attitude of the 
 speaker. 
 
GESTURE. 233 
 
 line between one drawn in front of the speaker's body, 
 and one drawn from His side. This gesture is one of 
 general character, having neither the force of the pre- 
 ceding one, nor the peculiarity of that which follows, 
 and terminating upward, downward, or horizontally, 
 according to the nature of the sentiment expressed. 
 [See Figs. 44, 48, 52.] 
 
 3. The gesture extended* (falling in a line with 
 the side,) appropriate in the expression of ideas of ex- 
 tent and space, or forming the terminating point to a 
 wave or sweep of gesture, in negation, rejection, &c, 
 and closing in an upward or downward position, as 
 before. [See Figs. 45, 49, 53.] 
 
 Hence arise the following combinations and changes 
 of gesture: 'Descending' 'in front.' [See Fig. 43.] 
 'Descending' 'oblique.' [See Figs. 44 and 46.] 
 'Descending' 'extended.' [See Fig. 45.] 'Horizon- 
 tal ' ' in front.' [See Fig. 47.] ' Horizontal ' ' oblique.' 
 [See Figs. 48 and 50.] ' Horizontal,' ' extended.' [See 
 Fig. 49.] 'Ascending' 'in front.' [See Fig. 51.] 
 'Ascending' 'oblique.' [See Fig. 52.] 'Ascending' 
 'extended.' [See Figs. 53 and 54.] Each of these 
 forms of gesture has a peculiar character, fixed and 
 modified by the lines explained above. See ' descend- 
 ing^ ' horizontal^ &c. 
 ■ 
 
 Note. There are occasionally gestures which fall in 
 a line inward from that ' in front,' as in the slight ges- 
 tures which take place in reading ; and outward from 
 the line 'extended,' as in alluding to any thing very 
 remote in time or place. But these seldom occur. 
 
 A discriminating and correct use of these different 
 classes of gesture, is the only proper source of variety 
 in action. 
 
 III. The movement or sweep of the arm, in prepar- 
 ing for gesture, should always be free and graceful, 
 but avoiding too much extent of space, and performed 
 in strict time with the movement of the voice in utter- 
 
 * This designation refers to the person and attitude of the speaker. 
 20* 
 
234 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ance. The line of motion in gesture describes a cvrve y 
 and avoids in all action but that of the humorous style, 
 a confined or angular movement. 
 
 The curve here spoken of would be exemplified in 
 passing from the gesture 'descending' 'in front' to 
 that which is denominated 'descending' 'oblique.' 
 To make this transition, the whole arm rises mode- 
 rately, contracting slightly at the elbow, and the hand 
 approaching a little nearer to the upper part of the 
 speaker's body, but not drawn up close to the face, as 
 often happens in incorrect style: the hand and arm 
 having tfius finished the preparatory movement, at an 
 intermediate point between the line of the gesture from 
 which it passes, and that of the gesture towards which 
 it is tending, — descends, (with more or less force and 
 swiftness, according to the character of emotion in the 
 language uttered.) to the terminating point of move- 
 ment for the gesture ' descending ' ' oblique.' The line 
 of motion thus described might be represented to the 
 eye as follows : 
 
 If A C be the points from and to which the gesture 
 
 passes, the line of A -L / — S. 
 
 1 .. ' • .. .. / \ but a curve / \ 
 
 motion is not an / \ ., f \ 
 
 angle, thus, fa \a_ thus > \0 .\A 
 
 The idea of the motion traced by the hand will be 
 perhaps fully formed by supposing the curve to slope 
 inward towards the speaker's body ; thus, if D repre- 
 sent the place of the speaker, the curve would be 
 described in this manner, B representing s^B\D 
 the termination of the preparatory move- ~/ J* 
 ment. [See also Fig. 55.] U/ ^ 
 
 The observance of the character of preparatory 
 movement, is a point of great consequence in gesture ; 
 since it decides the style of action as free, forcible, 
 commanding, dignified, graceful, lofty or the reverse, 
 according to the extent of space it moves through,, and 
 the time of its movement, as slow or quick, gradual or 
 abrupt. Magnificence and boldness of gesture belong 
 to the recitation of sublime strains of poetry. But 
 force, freedom, and propriety, with chasteness of style, 
 are the chief considerations in the delivery of prose; 
 
GESTURE. 235 
 
 and these qualities require less allowance of time and 
 space for action, than are necessary to those of poetic 
 recitation, — a distinction which should be carefully 
 observed. 
 
 IV. The frequency of gesture must be prescribed 
 by the character of sentiment in the piece which is 
 spoken, and by the style of language, as moderate 
 and plain, or empassioned and figurative; the former 
 requiring little use of gesture, and the latter much. 
 
 V. All action must arise directly from the sense of 
 what is spoken, and never from arbitrary notions of 
 variety or grace. True variety is the result of a due 
 observance of the preparatory and terminating lines 
 of gesture; and grace consists merely in preserving 
 these from awkward deviations. 
 
 VI. Imitative gesture should seldom be used even 
 in poetry, and never in prose. 
 
 VII. The use of the left hand, whether singly or 
 in conjunction with the right, depends not on arbitrary 
 opinions of propriety or grace, but usually on neces- 
 sity, felt by the speaker, either as regards himself or 
 his audience. This form of gesture, as far as it is a 
 matter of choice, should be sparingly adopted. 
 
 VIII. Gesture should be fluent and connected, not 
 abrupt and desultory, or appearing and disappearing 
 in a capricious manner. 
 
 IX. The placing of the hand on the heart had 
 better be omitted, if any risk must be incurred of an 
 incorrect or objectionable action by performing it.* 
 
 X. Gesture appropriate to the prevailing style of 
 prose, unites force and grace with simplicity, and has 
 
 * The correct placing of the hand on the heart, is such as to 
 bring the middle part of the middle and the third fingers — not. the 
 palm — directly over the spot in which the pulsation of the heart is 
 felt. [See Fig. 56.] 
 
236 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 generally an outward and downward tendency com- 
 bined ; avoiding action which runs across the body of 
 the speaker, or sweeps inwardly. 
 
 XI. Ail nice and studied positions of the hand, and 
 all which are peculiar and awkward, should be care- 
 fully avoided, as well as all positions and actions 
 which unintentionally interfere with the effect of de- 
 livery. 
 
237 
 
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239 
 
240 
 
241 
 
 21 
 
242 
 
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243 
 
244 
 
245 
 
 AS 
 
 21* 
 
246 
 
247 
 
 Pi 
 
 •m 
 
 
 
 j 
 
 V J£' 
 
248 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE 
 IN READING AND DECLAMATION. 
 
 EXERCISE I. LEGEND OF THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. Lyell. 
 
 [As an exercise in elocution, this piece is designed for practice 
 in the reading of plain narrative. The faults to be avoided, are 
 monotony or formality, on the one hand, and undue familiarity, or 
 affected animation, on the other : the points of style to be aimed at, 
 are simplicity and dignity, as in serious and elevated conversation.] 
 
 The scene of this popular fable, was placed in the two 
 centuries which elapsed between the reign of the emperor 
 Decius, and the death of Theodosius the younger. In that 
 interval of time, between the years 249 and 450 of our 
 era, the union of the Roman empire had been dissolved, 
 and some of its fairest provinces overrun by the barbarians 
 of the north. The seat of government had passed from 
 Rome to Constantinople ; and the throne, from a pagan per- 
 secutor to a succession of Christian and orthodox princes. 
 The genius of the empire had been humbled in the dust; 
 and the altars of Diana and Hercules were on the point of 
 being transferred to Catholic saints and martyrs. 
 
 The legend relates, that, " when Decius was still per- 
 secuting the Christians, seven noble youths of Ephesus 
 concealed themselves in a spacious cavern, in the side of an 
 adjacent mountain, where they were doomed to perish by the 
 tyrant, who gave orders that the entrance should be firmly 
 secured by a pile of huge stones. The youths immediately 
 fell into a deep slumber, which was miraculously prolonged, 
 without injuring the powers of life, during a period of one 
 hundred and eighty-seven years. 
 
 At the end of that time, the slaves of Adolius, to whom 
 the inheritance of the mountain had descended, removed the 
 stones, to supply materials for some rustic edifice : the light 
 of the sun darted into the cavern ; and the seven sleepers 
 were permitted to awake. After a slumber, as they thought, 
 of a fevr hours, they were pressed by the calls of hunger, 
 
250 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 and resolved that Jamblichus,* one of their number, should 
 secretly return to the city, to purchase bread for the use of 
 his companions. 
 
 The youth could no longer recognise the once familiar 
 aspect of his native country ; and his surprise was in- 
 creased by the appearance of a large cross, triumphantly 
 erected over the principal gate of Ephesus. His singular 
 dress, and obsolete language, confounded the baker, to whom 
 he offered an ancient medal of Decius,t as the current coin 
 of the empire ; and Jamblichus, on the suspicion of having 
 discovered and appropriated a secret treasure, was dragged 
 before the judge. 
 
 Mutual inquiries produced the amazing discovery, that 
 two centuries were almost elapsed, since Jamblichus and his 
 friends had escaped from the rage of a pagan tyrant." 
 
 This legend was received as authentic, throughout the 
 Christian world, before the end of the sixth century, and was 
 afterwards introduced by Mohammed, as a divine revelation, 
 into the Koran, and hence was adopted and adorned by all 
 the nations, from Bengal to Africa, which professed the Mo- 
 hammedan faith. Some vestiges of a similar tradition have 
 been discovered in Scandinavia. 
 
 This easy and universal belief, — so expressive of the 
 sense of mankind, — may be ascribed to the genuine merit 
 of the fable itself. We imperceptibly advance from youth 
 to age, without observing the gradual, but incessant, change 
 of human affairs; and, even in our larger experience of 
 history, the imagination is accustomed, by a perpetual series 
 of causes and effects, to unite the most distant revolutions. 
 But if the interval between the two memorable eras could 
 be instantly annihilated ; if it were possible, after a momen- 
 tary slumber of two hundred years, to display the new world 
 to the eyes of a spectator who still retained a lively and 
 recent impression of the old, his surprise and his reflec- 
 tions would furnish the pleasing subject of a philosophical 
 romance. * 
 
 exercise ii. — evening on the ocean. — Montgomery. 
 
 [The tone of the voice, in the reading of this piece, should not 
 be allowed to become prosaic, yet should be kept free from 
 ' singing.'] 
 
 Light as a flake of foam upon the wind, 
 Keel upward, from the deep emerged a shell, 
 
 * Pronounced Jam'blicus. f Pronounced Desheus 
 
PIECES FOE PRACTICE, 251 
 
 Shaped like the moon ere half her horn is filled : 
 
 Fraught with young life, it righted as it rase, 
 
 And moved at will along the yielding water. 
 
 The native pilot of this little bark 
 
 Put out a tier of oars, on either side, 
 
 Spread to the wafting breeze a two-fold sail, 
 
 And mounted up, and glided down, the billow. 
 
 In happy freedom, pleased to feel the air, 
 
 And wander in the luxury of light. 
 
 Worth all the dead creation, in that hour, 
 
 To me appeared this lonely nautilus, — 
 
 My fellow-being, like myself — alive. 
 
 Entranced in contemplation vague yet sweet, 
 
 i watched its vagrant course and rippling- wake, 
 
 Till I forgot the sun amidst the heavens : 
 
 It closed, sank, dwindled to a point, then — nothing, 
 
 "While the last bubble crowned the dimpling eddy 
 Through which mine eye still giddily pursued it, 
 A joyous creature vaulted through the air: 
 The aspiring fish that fain would be a bird, — 
 On long light wings, that flung a diamond shower 
 Of dew-drops round its evanescent form, — 
 Sprang into light, and instantly descended. 
 Ere I could greet the stranger as a friend, 
 Or mourn his quick departure, — on the surge, 
 A shoal of dolphins, tumbling in wild glee, 
 Glowed with such orient tints, they might have beea 
 The rainbow's offspring, when it met the ocean 
 In that resplendent vision I had seen. 
 While yet in ecstacy I hung o'er these, 
 With every motion pouring out fresh beauties, 
 As though the conscious colours came and went 
 At pleasure, glorying in their subtle changes, — . 
 Enormous o'er the flood, Leviathan 
 Looked forth, and from his roaring nostrils sent 
 Two fountains to the sky, then plunged amain 
 In headlong pastime through the closing gulf. 
 
 These were but preludes to the revelry 
 That reigned at sunset : then the deep let loose 
 [ts blithe adventurers to sport at large, 
 As kindly instinct taught them ; buoyant shells, 
 On stormless voyages, in fleets or single, 
 Wherried their tiny mariners ; aloof, 
 On wing-like fins, in bow-and-arrow figures 
 The flying fishes darted to and fro ; 
 
252 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 While spouting whales projected watery columns 
 That turned to arches, at their height, and seemed 
 The skeletons of crystal palaces, 
 Built on the blue expanse ; then perishing, 
 Frail as the element which they were made of; 
 Dolphins, in gambols, lent the lucid brine 
 Hues richer than the canopy of eve, 
 That overhung the scene with gorgeous clouds, 
 Decaying into gloom more beautiful 
 Than the sun's golden liveries which they lost ; — 
 Till light that hides, and darkness that reveals, 
 The stars, — exchanging guard, like sentinels 
 Of day and night, — transformed the face of nature. 
 Above, was wakefulness, — silence, around, — 
 - Beneath, repose, — repose that reached even me. 
 Power, will, sensation, memory, failed in turn : 
 My very essence seemed to pass away, 
 Like a thin cloud that melts across the moon, 
 Lost in the blue immensity of heaven. 
 
 exercise in. — the west. — Anonymous. 
 
 [The prevailing style of this piece, is that of animated dcscrtp* 
 tion, and lively sentiment, as in elevated and earnest conversation. 
 The chief fault to be avoided, is that of a dull and lifeless tone.] 
 
 It seems almost fabulous, when we think what a tide of 
 emigration has flowed towards the west, during the present 
 generation. Like the Roman power, which rolled over 
 every shore, and inundated the world, this mighty current 
 of human population, has penetrated the west, and rendered 
 delightful many a nook and valley in that wilderness, which 
 seems almost, like space itself, to swallow up all, as an ocean 
 wave engulfs the melting snow-flake. 
 
 Where is the west? Hardly one fourth of a century 
 since, and the North river divided it from those parts con- 
 sidered civilized. The valley of the Genesee next inherited 
 the name. Then the weary emigrant journeyed onward, to 
 find it on the southern banks of Lake Erie. Afterward, the 
 wide-spread valley of the Mississippi was the scene amid 
 which the weary wing of the eagle rested, as he retreated at 
 the onward march of the ' pale faces,' startled by the din 
 of engines and artillery, to find rest and silence in the 
 mighty ' West.' 
 
 And now, the roving hunter, disturbed in his pursuits 
 there, shoulders his rifle, or gathers up his traps, for a far* 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 253 
 
 off trail ; and after his moccasins have been worn thin, and 
 his feet pained by the distance of the way, yet, as he asks 
 the timid inmate of the last white man's cabin, where lies 
 the ' West,' he will thence be guided onward ; and onward 
 still the remote Pawnee and Mandan will beckon, whither the 
 deer are flying and the wild horse roams, where the buffalo 
 ranges, and the condor soars, far towards the waves where 
 the stars plunge at midnight, and amid which bloom those 
 ideal scenes for the persecuted savage, where white men 
 will murder no more for gold, nor startle the game upon the 
 sunshine hills. 
 
 Sublime, indeed, is the contemplation of a territory thus 
 boundless, whose mighty forests bore, for many hundred 
 leagues from the Atlantic, the uncouth 'blazings' of the 
 red man's ' trail ;' and in comparison with which, even on 
 this day, our cultivated fields along the eastern sea-bord, 
 seem merely as a golden fringe, bordering a mantle of un- 
 fading green. 
 
 But a thought more practically important here intrudes, 
 cencerning the destiny of these dark domains. Bryant, in 
 view of such a scene, has written : 
 
 " Here are old trees, tall oaks, and gnarled pines, 
 That stream with gray-green mosses ; here the ground 
 Was never touched by spade, and flowers spring - up, 
 Unsown, and die unfathered. 
 
 -In these peaceful shades, — 
 
 Peaceful, unpruned, immeasurably old,- 
 
 My thoughts go up the long, dim path of years, 
 
 Back to the earliest days of liberty." 
 
 Where crosses have been found on the remains of men, 
 in graves over which tall oaks have waved for centuries, — 
 where splendid ruins, in the South, and mounds, in the North, 
 alike proclaim that the New World is not new, — where even 
 tradition is silent concerning the rise, destiny and fall of em- 
 pires which have evidently risen, and perished, in ages far 
 remote, — has a republic been founded. But, unlike the colo- 
 nies of Greece and Rome, which were protected and cher- 
 ished by their parent land, this confedeiation, — to employ 
 the sentiments of Col. Barre, — was planted by British tyran- 
 ny, suffered most from her persecutions, and flourished best 
 during her neglect. Nevertheless, she has advanced, and 
 now ranks among the first nations of the earth. 
 
 The secret of this prosperity is revealed by the fact, that, — 
 superadded to a physical culture similar to that of earh 
 22 
 
254 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 education in Persia and in Rome, — the Pilgrims of New 
 England were a Christian band. Like the patriarchs of old, 
 they wandered far from the homes of their fathers ; and as 
 with them, too, the God of Abraham still continued in the 
 midst. His altar was erected on the rocks of Plymouth ; 
 and this land was dedicated a temple of his praise. In 
 return, his protecting power was displayed, in the defence he 
 furnished against Indian tribes, — extended onward through 
 our revolutionary scenes, — enabling our nation, like Hercules 
 in his cradle, to escape the serpentine coils of France, as 
 well as Britain, — and evident in all our unparalleled success. 
 And now, far removed from the intrigues of Europe, and 
 fearless in our strength, what nation, in true greatness, can 
 be compared with this ? 
 
 Let us be united ! Even the geographical features and 
 arrangement of our country, (unlike the peninsular seques- 
 trations of Spain, Italy and Greece, the prison cliffs of Swit- 
 zerland, or the severed soil of Britain,) proclaim that it was 
 intended for a united people, one national brotherhood, for 
 whose enjoyment the earth teems with productions for every 
 necessity and convenience, while facilities are presented that 
 are unsurpassed, for safe, speedy, internal transportation. Let 
 us, then, forever remain united, even though our settlements 
 reflect the sunbeams from the shores of the Pacific, and our 
 population be such that millions of soldiery could be spared 
 to march fcfc our defence ! Above all, let us, like our fathers, 
 be renowned for virtue ; for thus, and thus only, can we 
 realize the prediction uttered by the bard, in view of the 
 prospective greatness of America : 
 
 " Thy reign is the last, and noblest of time." 
 
 EXERCISE IV. RECONCILIATION BETWEEN GREAT BRITAIN AND 
 
 the united states. — Chatham. 
 
 [As an exercise in declamation, this piece requires an energetic and 
 spirited tone, free from mouthing, chanting, and drawling.] 
 
 From the ancient connexion between Great Britain and 
 her colonies, both parties derived the most important advan- 
 tages. While the shield of our protection was extended 
 over America, she was the fountain of our wealth, the nerve 
 of our strength, the basis of our power. 
 
 It is not, my lords, a wild and lawless banditti whom we 
 oppose : the resistance of America is the struggle of free 
 and virtuous patriots. Let us, then, seize, with eagerness! 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 255 
 
 the present moment of reconciliation. America has not yet 
 finally given herself up to France : there yet remains a pos- 
 sibility of escape from the fatal effect of our delusions. 
 
 In this complicated crisis of danger, weakness, and ca- 
 lamity, terrified and insulted by the neighbouring powers, 
 unable to act in America, or acting only to be destroyed, 
 where is the man who will venture to flatter us with the 
 hope of success from perseverance in measures productive 
 of these dire effects ? Who has the effrontery to attempt it ? 
 Where is that man ? Let him, if he dare, stand forward and 
 show his face. 
 
 You cannot conciliate America by your present measures : 
 you cannot subdue her by your present, or any measures. 
 What then can you do ? You cannot conquer, you cannot 
 gain ; but you can practise address ; you can lull the fears 
 and anxieties of the moment into ignorance of the danger 
 that should produee them. 
 
 I did hope, that instead of false and empty pride, engen- 
 dering high conceits, and presumptuous imaginations, minis- 
 ters would have humbled themselves in their errors, would 
 have confessed and retracted them, and, by an active, though 
 a late repentance, have endeavoured to redeem them. But, 
 my lords, since they have neither sagacity to foresee, nor 
 justice nor humanity to shun, those calamities; — since not 
 even bitter experience can make them feel, nor the imminent 
 ruin of their country awake them from their stupefaction, 
 the guardian care of parliament must interpose. 
 
 I shall therefore, my lords, propose to you an amendment 
 to the address to his majesty. To recommend an immediate 
 cessation of hostilities, and the commencement of a treaty 
 to restore peace and liberty to America, strength and happi- 
 ness to England, security and permanent prosperity to both 
 countries. This, my lords, is yet in our power ; and let not 
 the wisdom and justice of your lordships neglect the happy, 
 and, perhaps, the only opportunity. 
 
 EXERCISE V. BUNKER-HILL MONUMENT. Webster. 
 
 From the address delivered at the completion of the Bunker-Hill 
 Monument) June 17, 1843. 
 
 [The elocution of this piece is characterized by manly, energetic, 
 and noble expression. The student must guard against a thin, 
 high-pitched, feeble tone, as utterly inappropriate, in declaiming an 
 extract such as this. The neglect of vocal and corporeal exercise, 
 renders such utterance too prevalent.] 
 
 A duty has been performed. A work of gratitude and 
 
256 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 patriotism is completed. This structure, having its founda- 
 tions in soil which drank deep of early revolutionary blood, 
 has at length reached its destined height, and now lifts its 
 summit to the skies. 
 
 The Bunker-Hill monument is finished. Here it stands. 
 Fortunate in the natural eminence on which it is placed, — 
 higher, infinitely higher, in its objects and purpose, it rises 
 over the land, and over the sea; and visible, at their homes, 
 to three hundred thousand citizens of Massachusetts, — it 
 stands, a memorial of the last, and .a monitor to the present, 
 and all succeeding generations. I have spoken of the lofti- 
 ness of its purpose. If it had been without any other design 
 than the creation of a work of art, the granite, of which it is 
 composed, would have slept in its native bed. It has a pur- 
 pose ; and that purpose gives it character. That purpose 
 enrobes it with dignity and moral grandeur. That well 
 known purpose it is, which causes us to look up to it with a 
 feeling of awe. It is itself the orator of this occasion. It is 
 not from my lips, it is not from any human lips, that that 
 strain of eloquence is this day to flow, most competent to 
 move and excite the vast multitudes around. The potent 
 speaker stands motionless before them. It is a plain shaft. 
 It bears no inscriptions, fronting to the rising sun, from which 
 the future antiquarian shall wipe the dust. Nor does the 
 rising sun cause tones of music to issue from its summit. 
 But at the rising of the sun, and at the setting of the sun, in 
 the blaze of noon-day, and beneath the milder effulgence of 
 lunar' light, it looks, it speaks, it acts, to the full comprehen- 
 sion of every American mind, and the awakening of glow- 
 ing enthusiasm in every American heart. Its silent, but 
 awful utterance ; its deep pathos, as it brings to our contem- 
 plation the 17th of June, 1775, and the consequences which 
 have resulted to us, to our country, and to the world, from 
 the events of that day, and which we know must continue 
 to rain influence on the destinies of mankind, to the end of 
 time ; the elevation with which it raises us high above the 
 ordinary feelings of life ; surpass all that the study of the 
 closet, or even the inspiration of genius can produce. To- 
 day, it speaks to us. Its future auditories will be through 
 successive generations of men, as they rise up before it, and 
 gather round it. Its speech will be of patriotism and cour- 
 age ; of civil and religious liberty ; of free government ; of 
 the moral improvement and elevation of mankind ; and of 
 the immortal memory of those who, with heroic devotion, 
 have sacrificed their lives for their country. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 25? 
 
 In the older world, numerous fabrics still exist, reared by 
 human hands, but whose object has been lost, in the darkness 
 of ages. They are now monuments of nothing, but the 
 labour and skill which constructed them. 
 
 The mighty pyramid itself, half buried in the sands of 
 Africa, has nothing to bring down and report to us, but the 
 power of kings, and the servitude of the people. If it had 
 any purpose beyond that of a mausoleum, such purpose has 
 perished from history, and from tradition. If asked for its 
 moral object, its admonition, its sentiment, its instruction to 
 mankind, or any high end in its erection, it is silent, — silent 
 as the millions which lie in the dust at its base, and in the 
 catacombs which surround it. Without a just moral object, 
 therefore, made known to man, though raised against the 
 skies, it excites only conviction of power, mixed with strange 
 wonder. But if the civilization of the present race of men, 
 founded, as it is, in solid science, the true knowledge of na- 
 ture, and vast discoveries in art, and which is stimulated and 
 purified by moral sentiment, and by the truths of Christianity, 
 be not destined to destruction, before the final termination 
 of human existence on earth, the object and purpose of this 
 edifice will be known, till that hour shall come. And even 
 if civilization should be subverted, and the truths of the 
 Christian religion obscured by a new deluge of barbarism, 
 the memory of Bunker Hill and the American Revolution 
 will still be elements and parts of the knowledge, which 
 shall be possessed by the last man to whom the light of civ- 
 ilization and Christianity shall be extended. 
 
 EXERCISE VI. DEATH OF DE ARGENTINE. Scott. 
 
 The scene is that of the battle of BannocJcburn, in which Robert 
 Bruce, king of Scotland, defeated the English army under king 
 Edward. 
 
 [The metre of this piece requires close attention, to keep the 
 rhythm of the voice from falling into monotonous and mechanical 
 chanting. It is never desirable to hear verse recited in the dry tone 
 of prose. But, in pieces like the following, the teacher's direction to 
 the young student, must often be, ' Keep nearer to the prose tone.'] 
 
 Already scatter'd o'er the plain, — 
 Reproof, command, and counsel, vain, — 
 The rearward squadrons fled amain, 
 
 Or made but doubtful stay : — 
 In vain the royal Edward threw 
 
 His person 'mid the spears, 
 22* 
 
258 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Cried ' Fight ! ' to terror and despair, 
 Menaced, and wept, and tore his hair, 
 
 And cursed their caitiff fears ; 
 Till Pembroke turned his bridle rein, 
 And forced him from the fatal plain. 
 With them rode Argentine, until 
 They gained the summit of the hill, 
 But quitted there the train : — 
 " In yonder field a gage I left, — 
 I must not live, of fame bereft ; 
 
 I needs must turn again. 
 Speed hence, my liege, for on your trace, 
 The fiery Douglas takes the chase, 
 
 I know his banner well. 
 God send my sovereign joy and bliss, 
 And many a happier field than this : — 
 
 Once more, my liege, farewell ! " 
 
 Again he faced the battle-field, — 
 Wildly they fly, are slain, or yield. 
 " Now then," he said, and couched his spear, 
 " My course is run, — the goal is near : 
 One effort more, one brave career, 
 Must close this race of mine !" 
 Then in his stirrups rising high, 
 He shouted loud his battle-cry, 
 * Saint James for Argentine ! ' 
 
 And, of the bold pursuers, four 
 The gallant knight from saddle bore ; 
 But not unharmed ; — a lance's point 
 Has found his breast-plate's loosen'd joint, 
 
 An axe has razed his crest ; 
 But still on Colonsay's fierce lord, 
 Who press'd the chase with gory sword, 
 
 He rode with spear in rest, 
 And through his bloody tartans bored, 
 
 And through his gallant breast. 
 Nail'd to the earth, the mountaineer 
 Yet writhed him up against the spear, 
 
 And swung his broad-sword round ! 
 — Stirrups, steel-boot, and cuish gave way 
 Beneath that blow's tremendous sway, — 
 
 The blood gush'd from the wound; 
 And the grim Lord of Colonsay 
 
 Hath turn'd him on the ground, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 259 
 
 And laughed in death-pang, that his blade 
 The mortal thrust so well repaid. 
 
 Now toil'd the Bruce, the battle done, 
 To use his conquest boldly won ; 
 And gave command for horse and spear 
 To press the southron's scatter'd rear, 
 Nor let his broken force combine, 
 — When the war-cry of Argentine 
 
 Fell faintly on his ear ! 
 " Save, save his life," he cried, " Oh ! save 
 The kind, the noble, and the brave !" 
 The squadrons round free passage gave ; 
 
 The wounded knight drew near. 
 He raised his red-cross shield no more ; 
 Helm, cuish, and breast-plate, streamed with gore ; 
 Yet, as he saw the king advance, 
 He strove, even then, to couch his lance : — 
 
 The effort was in vain ! 
 The spur-stroke fail'd to rouse the horse ; 
 Wounded and weary, in mid course 
 
 He stumbled on the plain. 
 Then foremost was the generous Bruce, 
 To raise his head, his helm to loose. 
 — " Lord, earl, the day is thine ! 
 My sovereign's charge, and adverse fate, 
 Have made our meeting all too late : 
 
 Yet this may Argentine, 
 As boon from ancient comrade, crave, — 
 A Christian's mass, a soldier's grave." — 
 
 Bruce press'd his dying hand : — its grasp 
 Kindly replied ; but, in his clasp, 
 
 It stiffen'd and grew cold ; — 
 And, " Oh ! farewell ! " the victor cried, 
 " Of chivalry the flower and pride, 
 
 The arm in battle bold, 
 The courteous mien, the noble race, 
 The stainless faith, the manly face ! — 
 Bid Ninian's convent light their shrine, 
 For late-wake of De Argentine. 
 O'er better knight, on death-bier laid, 
 Torch never gleamed, nor mass was said ! " 
 
260 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE VII. SPEECH AGAINST WRITS OF ASSISTANCE. Otis. 
 
 [This exercise is introduced for the sake of practice in the direct 
 tones of actual business, and as a means of avoiding a uniform 
 declamatory sivell. To speak such a piece with sustained force and 
 spirit, is an attainment of higher merit, than to recite well the mosj 
 brilliant passage of poetry.] 
 
 May it please your Honours, — I was desired by one of the 
 court to look into the books, and consider the question now 
 before them, concerning writs of assistance. I have accord- 
 ingly considered it, and now appear not only in obedience to 
 your order, but likewise in behalf of the inhabitants of this 
 town,^ who have presented another petition, and out of 
 regard to the liberties of the subject. And I take this op- 
 portunity to declare, that, whether under a fee or not, (for, in 
 such a case as this, I despise a fee,) I will, to my dying day, 
 oppose with all the powers and faculties God has given me, 
 all such instruments of slavery on the one hand, and villany 
 on the other, as this writ of assistance is. 
 
 It appears to me the worst instrument of arbitrary power, — • 
 the most destructive of English liberty, and the fundamental 
 principles of law, that ever was found in an English law- 
 book. I must therefore beg your Honours' patience and 
 attention to the whole range of an argument that may per- 
 haps appear uncommon, in many things, as well as to points 
 of learning that are more remote and unusual, that the whole 
 tendency of my design may be the more easily perceived, 
 the conclusions better descend, and the force of them be bet- 
 ter felt. 
 
 I shall not think much of my pains in this cause, as I 
 engaged in it from principle. I was solicited to argue this 
 cause as 'advocate general;' and, because I would not, I 
 have been charged with desertion from my office. To this 
 charge I can give a very sufficient answer. I renounced 
 that office, and I argue this cause, from the same principle ; 
 and I argue it with the greater pleasure, as it is in favour 
 of British liberty, at a time when we hear the greatest mon- 
 arch on earth, declaring from the throne, that he glories in 
 the name of Briton, and that the privileges of his people 
 are dearer to him than the most valuable prerogatives of his 
 crown ; and it is in opposition to a kind of power, the exer- 
 cise of which, in former periods of English history, cost one 
 king of England his head, and another his throne. * 
 
 I have taken more pains in this cause, than I ever will take 
 
 * Boston. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 261 
 
 again ; although my engaging in this, and another popular 
 cause, has raised much resentment. But I think I can sin- 
 cerely declare, that I submit myself to every odious name 
 for conscience' sake ; and, from my soul, I despise all those 
 whose guilt, or malice, or folly, has made them my foes. 
 
 Let the consequences be what they will, I am determined 
 to proceed. The only principles of public conduct, that are 
 worthy of a gentleman or a man, are to sacrifice estate, ease, 
 health, applause, and even life, at the sacred call of his 
 country. 
 
 exercise vni. — Bernardo and king alphonso. — Translated 
 by Lockhart. 
 
 [To avoid sing-song tone, is the great point for practice, in pieces 
 *uch as this, and to give the emotion, with full, vivid modulation.] 
 
 With some good ten of his chosen men, 
 
 Bernardo hath appeared, 
 Before them all in the palace hall, 
 
 The lying king to beard ; 
 With cap in hand and eye on ground, 
 
 He came in reverend guise, 
 But ever and anon he frowned, 
 
 And name broke from his eyes. 
 
 " A curse upon thee," cries the king, 
 
 " Who com'st unhid to me ! 
 But what from traitor's blood should spring, 
 
 Save traitor like to thee ? 
 His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart, — 
 
 Perchance our champion brave, 
 May think it were a pious part 
 
 To share Don Sancho's grave." 
 
 " Whoever told this tale 
 
 The king hath rashness to repeat," 
 Cries Bernard, " here my gage I fling 
 
 Before the liar's feet. 
 No treason was in Sancho's blood, 
 
 No stain in mine doth lie, — 
 Below the throne, what knight will own 
 
 The coward calumny ? 
 
 u The blood that I like water shed, 
 When Roland did advance, 
 
262 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 By secret traitors brought and led, 
 
 To make us slaves of France, — 
 The life of king Alphonso, 
 
 I saved at Ronceval, 
 Your words, lord king, were recompense 
 
 Abundant for it all. 
 
 " Your horse was down, — your hope was flown,— 
 
 Ye saw the falchion shine, 
 That soon had drunk your royal blood, 
 
 Had I not ventured mine. 
 But memory, soon, of service done, 
 
 Deserteth the instate ; 
 And ye 've thanked the son for life and crown, 
 
 By the father's bloody fate. 
 
 " Ye swore upon your kingly faith, 
 
 To set Don Sancho free ; 
 But. curse upon your paltering breath ! 
 
 The light he ne'er did see : 
 He died in dungeon cold and dim, 
 
 By Alphonso's base decree ; 
 And visage blind, and mangled limb, 
 
 Were all they gave to me : 
 
 " The king that swerveth from his word, 
 
 Hath stained his purple black : 
 No Spanish lord shall draw his sword 
 
 Behind a liar's back. 
 But noble vengeance shall be mine ; 
 
 And open hate I '11 show : — 
 The king hath injured Carpio's line, 
 
 And Bernard is his foe ! " 
 
 " Seize, — seize him ! " loud the king doth scream,-* 
 
 " There are a thousand here, — 
 Let his foul blood this instant stream, — 
 
 What ! caitiffs, do ye fear ? 
 Seize, — seize the traitor ! " But not one 
 
 To move a finger dareth : 
 Bernardo standeth by the throne, 
 
 And calm his sword he bareth. 
 
 He drew the falchion from its sheath, 
 
 And held it up on high ; 
 And all the hall was still as death :• 
 
 Cries Bernard, " Here am I, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 263 
 
 And here 's the sword that owns no lord, 
 
 Excepting heaven and me : 
 Fain would I know who dares its point, — 
 
 King, — conde, — or grandee." 
 
 Then to his mouth his horn he drew, — 
 
 It hung below his cloak, — 
 His ten true men the signal knew, — 
 
 And through the ring they broke ; 
 With helm on head, and blade in hand, 
 
 The knights the circle break, 
 And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, 
 
 And the false king to quake. 
 
 " Ha ! Bernard ! " quoth Alphonso, 
 
 " What means this warlike guise ? 
 Ye know full well I jested : — 
 
 Ye know your worth I prize ! " — 
 But Bernard turned upon his heel, 
 
 And smiling passed away. — 
 Long rued Alphonso and Castile 
 
 The jesting of that day ! 
 
 EXERCISE IX. VALUE OF DECISION AND INTREPIDITY. Walsh. 
 
 [The following piece is designed for practice in the style of ani- 
 mated narrative. It differs from Exercise I., in possessing more 
 energy of tone, and a livelier movement of voice. A distinct and 
 spirited enunciation of every word, is, in this and similar exercises, 
 indispensable to appropriate elocution.] 
 
 The election of Gomez Pedraza to the presidency of 
 Mexico, was not acquiesced in by the people ; and from 
 discontent and murmurs, they soon proceeded to open revolt. 
 At night, they took possession of the artillery barracks, a 
 large building, commonly called the ' Accordada,' which is 
 so situated at the termination of the main street, that a bat- 
 tery erected opposite to it commanded the palace. Near the 
 Accordada, is the Alameda, a public walk, about three-quarters 
 of a mile in circumference, and ornamented with noble trees. 
 The action commenced here, after a vain attempt on the part 
 of the government to negotiate with the people. The gov- 
 ernment forces were driven out of the Alameda, and batteries 
 established higher up the street. 
 
 The second day, the troops of the Accordada, commanded 
 by Zavala and Lobato, advanced towards the centre of the 
 
264 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 city, in two columns, — one by the main street, and the other 
 by a street running parallel to it, on which the house of Mr. 
 Poinsett, the American ambassador, was situated. In order 
 to check the advance of these columns, the government 
 troops were posted in the towers and steeples of the convents 
 and churches ; and traverses, mounted with cannon, were 
 constructed across the streets. 
 
 One of these works was situated about one hundred yards 
 from Mr. Poinsett's house, and immediately under the tower 
 of a convent on which men were stationed. After several 
 ineffectual attempts had been made to carry this work by an 
 attack of infantry in front, suddenly a squadron of cavalry, 
 that had succeeded in turning the flank of the batter}', which 
 was unprotected, came thundering upon the artillery, and 
 sabred the men at their guns. 
 
 The soldiers on the tower, who for a time were afraid to 
 use their arms, lest they should kill their comrades, at length 
 poured down an effective fire upon the cavalry. Several 
 fell ; some dashed down the street ; and others threw them- 
 selves off their horses, and took refuge under the eaves of 
 the very tower whence this destructive fire had proceeded. 
 The horses, whose riders had been killed, ran about wild with 
 terror ; but those of the dismounted cavaliers instinctively 
 leaned up against the wall of the tower, as closely as their 
 riders did, and both escaped the shots from above. When 
 the cannon of this battery was silenced, the troops were soon 
 driven from the convent. 
 
 The convent of Saint Augustine, situated in the rear of 
 Mr. Poinsett's house, was the last to yield to the besiegers. 
 While the firing was going on at this post, Madame Yturri- 
 garay. widow of the former viceroy of Mexico, who lived in 
 the adjoining house, rushed into her balcony, almost frantic 
 with fear, and implored Mr. Poinsett to protect her house. 
 While he was giving her assurances of protection, and trying 
 to calm her fears, a shot was fired at him from the roof of 
 the convent opposite his house. The ball passed through 
 his cloak, and buried itself in the shutter of the balcony 
 window. 
 
 He retired within the house, and shortly after the besiegers 
 were heard advancing. They were composed of the common 
 people of the city, and the peasants of the neighbouring vil- 
 lages, mingled with the civic guard of Mexico, and deserters 
 from different regiments. The tramp of armed men. and the 
 hum of voices, alone indicated their approach ; but when 
 they reached the house, there arose one wild shout j and a 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 265 
 
 desperate rush was made to burst open the door. The mas- 
 sive gates resisted the utmost efforts of the crowd. A cry 
 arose to fire into the windows, to bring up cannon, to drive 
 in the door; and bitter imprecations were uttered against 
 the owner of the house, for sheltering their enemies, the 
 European Spaniards, many of whom had sought an asylum 
 in Mr. Poinsett's house. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Poinsett directed Mr. Mason, the 
 secretary of the American legation, to throw out the flag of 
 the United States. This was gallantly done ; and they both 
 stood on the balcony, beneath its waving folds. The shouts 
 were hushed : the soldiers slowly dropped the muzzles of 
 their guns, which were levelled at the balcony and windows. 
 
 Mr. Poinsett seized this opportunity to tell them who he 
 was, and what flag waved over him, and to claim security 
 for all who were under its protection. Perceiving that the 
 crowd was awed, and began to consult together, he retired 
 from the balcony to despatch his servant with a note to the 
 commander of the besieging army. The servant returned, 
 and reported that the press was so great, that the porter was 
 afraid to open the door, lest the crowd should rush in. 
 
 Mr. Poinsett instantly resolved to go down himself, and 
 have thj door opened. As he descended the stairs, he was 
 joined by Mr. Mason. They proceeded together across the 
 court-yard to the door, which the porter was ordered to open. 
 As they stepped over the threshold, the dense crowd which 
 filled the street, rolled back like a wave of the ocean. The 
 servant, who was a Mexican, mingled with them ; and before 
 the people recovered from their astonishment, the two gen- 
 tlemen returned into the court-yard, and the door was closed 
 by the porter. 
 
 Before they reached the front of the house, they heard the 
 rapid advance of a body of cavalry. It was commanded by 
 a friend of the legation. The gates were thrown open ; the 
 horsemen rode into the court-yard ; their commander sta- 
 tioned sentinels before the door ; and Mr. Poinsett had the 
 satisfaction of redeeming his promise of protection to Madam 
 Yturrigaray. Her house Avas respected amidst the wildest 
 disorder ; and those whcThad sought an asylum under the 
 flag of the United States, remained in perfect safety, until 
 tranquillity was restored. 
 23 
 
266 ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 EXERCISE X. ELECTION ANECDOTE. AnomjmOTlS. 
 
 [The practice of pieces characterized by wit and humouT, is of 
 the utmost service, in breaking up dull and lifeless habits of utter- 
 ance. Nothing has so much effect in moulding the tones of a young 
 reader, or imparting ease and flexibility of manner, in speaking. 
 The great security for exemption from faults, and for the attain- 
 ment of perfection, in reading or reciting such pieces, is, to enter 
 heartily and fully into the humorous mood. — Such exercises are to 
 be regarded as intellectual ' play '; — and, like all other forms of 
 play, demanding full life and activity.] 
 
 Hail, glorious day, on which the Bill was pass'd, 
 
 That gave at last 
 
 Reform to Britons free ! 
 The Boroughs which had long been rotten, 
 
 Are dead, and clean forgotten, 
 As they ought to be. 
 No more can seats be bought and sold, — 
 
 We 've done with such abuses ; 
 No more can gold, 
 
 Or flimsy notes, 
 
 Purchase base votes : 
 The poorest man can now vote as he choose*. 
 
 But what 's a moral without illustration ? 
 
 None can avail, 
 
 Without a tale 
 To fit it : — so here goes for my narration. 
 
 At the last election for the borough town 
 
 Of Guttlebury, 
 A spick and span new candidate came down, 
 
 A fit and proper person, very : — 
 fie vowed that he the people's man was, 
 And drew a g-lowing picture on his canvass 
 
 Of rights and wrongs, and England's Charter, 
 And swore, for liberty he 'd die a martyr. 
 
 He called upon a cobbler in his rounds, 
 One Jacob Sneak, 
 His vote and interest to bespeak : 
 Says he, " You are a patriot to the bone, 
 
 And, zounds ! 
 A cobbler now may say his sole 's his own :— 
 Come, friend, your name enroll, 
 And show your face, when I display my poll 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 267 
 
 Your face is but a lean one now, — 
 I must allow, — 
 "Or tell a monstrous thumper : 
 It shows dejection ; 
 But on the day of our election 
 I hope to see you with a plumper. 
 
 True blue 's the colour that can ne'er be beat ! 
 If you'll but make a stand, — I'll get a seat." 
 Says Mr. Sneak, 
 (As soon as his turn came to speak,) 
 " I 'd like to give a vote, no doubt, 
 But I 'm afraid 
 My rates ar'n't paid, 
 And so, perhaps, they '11 scratch me out ! 
 What 's worse than all, I know a dozen more, 
 
 Good men and sure, 
 Will raise their voices with me for the blue, 
 If I but axes, 
 And yet can't raise, 
 In these starvation days, 
 
 A sous ^ 
 To pay their taxes ! " 
 " A dozen votes in jeopardy ! " exclaims 
 
 Th' impatient squire ; 
 "There's surely some mistake, — I'll straight inqunre, 
 Give me their names." 
 
 They parted ; and, — no matter how or when, — 
 The rates were paid of these same men, 
 Who never paid a rate before, 
 Except by rating the collector soundly, 
 And "roundly, 
 And shutting in his face the door. 
 The candidate his visit soon repeated, 
 And for their votes his friends again entreated. 
 " All 's right," said he ; 
 " You are safe nmv in the registration ; 
 And if you will but vote for me, 
 'T will be 
 For the good of the nation ! " 
 What ! " replies Sneak, " and have you done the trick 
 So quick?" 
 
 * Pronounced soo. 
 
268 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Now, that 's what I calls clever ! 
 Me and my friends must all shout ' Blue for ever ! 
 And so we will, my hearty ! 
 We '11 strain our throats 
 
 Until they crack ; 
 But as to votes, — 
 Good lack ! — 
 A-hem, — 
 1 'm very sorry, — but we 've promised them 
 To th' opposite party I " 
 
 exercise xi. — Oregon. — Knickerbocker Magazine. 
 
 <=>' 
 
 [The following passage is designed as an exercise in the full tones 
 of lofty and expansive description. The common errors in reading 
 such pieces, are, a fat and inexpressive tone, on one hand, — or a 
 mouthing and formal swell, on the. other. A true elocution sus- 
 tains the poetic elevation of the language by a chastened dignity of 
 utterance.] 
 
 Mr. Parker, whose book has suggested our subject, was 
 sent out by the American Board of Foreign Missions ; and 
 he appears to have been eminently faithful to his trust, amidst 
 numerous perils and privations, which are recorded, not with 
 vain boasting and exaggeration, but with becoming modesty 
 and brevity. His descriptions, indeed, are all of them 
 graphic, without being minute and tedious. 
 
 Before reaching the Black Hills, he places before us their 
 prairies, rolling in immense seas of verdure, on which mil- 
 lions of tons of grass grow up but to rot on the ground, or 
 feed whole leagues of flame; over which sweep the cool 
 breezes, like the trade winds of the ocean ; and into whose 
 green recesses bright-eyed antelopes bound away, with half- 
 whistling snuff, leaving the fleetest hound hopelessly in the 
 rear. There herd the buffaloes, by thousands together, dot- 
 ting the landscape, — seeming scarce so large as rabbits, when 
 surveyed at a distance, from some verdant bluff, swelling in 
 the emerald waste. 
 
 Sublimer far, and upon a more magnificent scale, are the 
 scenes among the Rocky Mountains. Here are the visible 
 footsteps of God ! Yonder, mountain above mountain, peak 
 above peak, ten thousand feet heavenward, to regions of per- 
 petual snow, rise the Titans of that mighty region. Here 
 the traveller threads his winding way through passages so- 
 narrow, that the towering, perpendicular cliffs throw a dim 
 twilight gloom upon his path, even at mid-day. Anon he 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 269 
 
 emerges; and lo ! a cataract descends a distant mountain, 
 like a belt of snowy foam girding its giant sides. 
 
 On one hand, mountains spread out into horizontal plains ; 
 some rounded like domes, and others terminating in sharp 
 cones and abrupt eminences, taking the forms of pillars, 
 pyramids, and castles ; on the other, vast circular embank- 
 ments thrown up by volcanic fires, mark the site of a yawn- 
 ing crater; while, far below, perchance, a river dashes its way 
 through the narrow, rocky passage, with a deep-toned roar, 
 in winding mazes in mist and darkness. 
 
 Follow the voyager, as he descends the Columbia, subject 
 to winds, rapids, and falls ; two hundred miles from any 
 whites, and amid tribes of stranger Indians, all speaking a 
 different language. Here, for miles, stretches a perpendicu- 
 lar basaltic wall, three or four hundred feet in height ; there, 
 foam the boiling eddies, and rush the varying currents ; on 
 one side opens a view of rolling prairies, through a rocky 
 vista, on the other, rise the far-off mountains, mellowed in 
 the beams of the morning sun. 
 
 Now the traveller passes through a forest of trees, stand- 
 ing in their natural positions, in the bed of the river, twenty 
 feet below the water's surface. Passing these, he comes to 
 a group of islands, lying high in the stream, piled with the 
 coffin canoes of the natives, filled with their dead, and cov- 
 ered with mats and split plank. He anchors for a while at 
 a wharf of natural basalt, but presently proceeds on his way, 
 gliding now in solemn silence, and now interrupted by the 
 roar of a distant rapid, gradually growing on the ear, until 
 the breaking water and feathery foam, arise to the view. 
 
 Passing under a rocky cavern, by the shore, formed of 
 semi-circular masses which have overbrowed the stream for 
 ages, ' frowning terrible, impossible to climb,' he awaits the 
 morning; listening during the night watches to hear the 
 distant cliffs 
 
 reverberate the sound 
 
 Of parted fragments tumbling from on high.' 
 
 Such are the great features of the Missionary's course, 
 until the boundary of the ' Far West,' is reached, and ha 
 reposes for a time, from his long and toilsome journey. 
 23* - 
 
270 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XII. THE GLADIATOR. JoTl€S. 
 
 [A bold, graphic, and occasionally dramatic, style of reading 01 
 recitation, is required in the following piece, to keep up wnu th« 
 vividness of the narration and description.] 
 
 They led a lion from his den, 
 
 The lord of Afric's sun-scorched plain ; 
 
 And there he stood, stern foe of men, 
 
 And shook his flowing mane. 
 
 There 's not of all Rome's heroes, ten 
 
 That dare abide this game. 
 
 His bright eye nought of lightning lacked ; 
 
 His voice was like the cataract. 
 
 They brought a dark-haired man along, 
 "Whose limbs with gyves of brass were bound 
 Youthful he seemed, and bold, and strong, 
 And yet unscathed of wound. 
 Blithely he stepped among the throng, 
 And careless threw around 
 A dark eye, such as courts the path 
 Of 'him, who braves a Dacian's wrath. 
 
 Then shouted the plebeian crowd, — 
 Rung the glad galleries with the sound ; 
 And from the throne there spake aloud 
 A voice, — " Be the bold man unbound ! 
 And, by Rome's sceptre, yet unbowed, 
 By Rome, earth's monarch crowned, 
 Who dares the bold, the unequal strife, 
 Though doomed to death, shall save his life." 
 
 Joy was upon that dark man's face ; 
 
 And thus, with laughing eye, spake he ; 
 
 " Loose ye the lord of Zaara's waste, 
 
 And let my arms be free : 
 
 ' He has a martial heart,' thou sayest ; — 
 
 But oh ! who will not be 
 
 A hero, when he fights for life, 
 
 For home, and country, babes, and wife I *" 
 
 And thus I for the stri fe prepare : 
 The Thracian falchion to me bring; 
 But ask th' imperial leave to spare 
 The shield, — a useless thing. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 271 
 
 Were I a Samnite's rage to dare, 
 Then o'er me would I fling 
 The broad orb ; but to lion's wrath 
 The shield were but a sword of lath." 
 
 And he has bared his shining blade, 
 And springs he on the shaggy foe ; 
 Dreadful the strife, but briefly played;-— 
 The desert-king lies low : 
 His long and loud death-howl is made ; 
 And there must end the show. 
 And when the multitude were calm. 
 The favourite freed-man took the palm. 
 
 ** Kneel down, Rome's emperor beside I** 
 
 He knelt, that dark man ; — -o'er his brow 
 
 Was thrown a wreath an crimson died; 
 
 And fair words gild it now : 
 
 " Thou art the bravest youth that ever trie! 
 
 To lay a lion 'low ; 
 
 And from our presence forth thou go'st 
 
 To lead the Dacian* of our host." 
 
 Then flushed his cheek, but not with p*iJ{ 
 And grieved and gloomily spake he: 
 ■" My cabin stands where blithely glide 
 Proud Danube 1 * waters to the sea : 
 I have a young and blooming bride, 
 And I have children three : — 
 No Roman wealth or rank can <*iv<e 
 Such joy as in their arm* to live. 
 
 My wife sits at the cabin door, 
 
 With throbbing heart and swollen eyes 
 
 While tears her cheek are coursing o'er 
 
 She speaks of sundered ties. 
 
 She bids my tender babes deplore 
 
 The death their father dies ; 
 
 She tells these jewels of my home, 
 
 I bleed to please the rout of Rome. 
 
 I cannot let those cherubs stray 
 Without their sire's protecting care; 
 And I would chase the grief* away 
 Which cloud my wedded fair." 
 
272 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The monarch spoke; the guards obey, 
 And gates unclosed are: 
 He 's gone ! — No goklen bribes divide 
 The Dacian from his babes and bride. 
 
 EXERCISE XIII. APPEAL TO THE PEOPLE OF NEATH IN 1834.— 
 
 Henry Grattan. 
 
 [Bold and animated declamation is the prevailing strain of this 
 piece. Free and forcible action, and frequent change of attitude, are 
 also essential to its character, as a political harangue.] 
 
 Fellow-Countrymen, — The Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 has stated that it is the intention of government to renew 
 the Coercion Bill, and place all Ireland beyond the pale of 
 the constitution. As one of your representatives, I there- 
 fore appeal to you, and inquire whether, in your opinion, 
 this is necessary, and whether the count}- of Meath requires 
 it ? If so, declare it ; and let me have your sentiments. I 
 am of opinion that it is not ; and with that conviction I ad- 
 dress you. I appeal to your sober senses. I appeal also to 
 jour love of freedom, — to your pride as a nation, and to the 
 feelings which belong to man. 
 
 I ask, will you in silence permit this invasion of your 
 rights, at once wanton, mischievous, uncalled for, and unne- 
 cessary ? Will you patiently tolerate the annihilation of all 
 freedom, — the appointment of a supreme dictator, who may, 
 at his will, suspend all your rights, liberties, and privileges ? 
 "Will you, without a murmur of dissent, submit to a tyranny 
 which nearly equals that of the Russian autocrat, and is 
 second to that of Bonaparte ? 
 
 If you are willing thus to bend, and bow your necks be- 
 neath this yoke, select in my place another member ; for f 
 am not fit or willing to be the representative of slaves. 
 Feeling thus, I give my opinion and my advice. I am 
 attached, and ever will be attached, to England, ' so long as* 
 she upholds the liberties of Ireland ; but I am, and ever will, 
 and ever ought to be, the enemy of England, if she attempts 
 to keep Ireland in slavery ! 
 
 Therefore it is thai I advise you to meet. Assemble in 
 your parishes, villages, and hamlets. Resolve, — petition. — 
 address : bad as the British House of Commons is, let it not 
 be said that you have neglected to put to the test either its 
 virtue or compliance. Petition against the demolition of 
 your constitution; your lives, j-out properties, those of youi 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 273 
 
 wives and children, all may be at stake. Recollect that 
 liberty consists not only in its actual enjoyment, but in the 
 impossibility of another depriving you of it against your 
 consent. 
 
 In this question consider the interest of England is 
 involved, as well as your independence. These habitual 
 departures from freedom familiarize men with arbitrary 
 power; and what others permit to be inflicted upon us, 
 they may, at no distant day, tolerate themselves. All is 
 doubt, distrust, and disgrace ; and in this instance, rely on 
 it, that the certain and fatal result will be to make Ireland 
 hate the connexion, contemn the councils of England, and 
 despise her power. 
 
 Tell this to the king ; state to him your apprehension and 
 these dangers ; call on his gracious majesty to redeem the 
 pledge he gave to Ireland in his speech from the throne, at 
 the close of the last session. Petition the House of Com- 
 mons. Call for an inquiry into the real or supposed crimes 
 of Ireland, for which she is to be visited with this horrid 
 calamity ! Challenge ministers to the proof, and put your- 
 selves on God and your country. If guilty, let us calmly 
 abide the results, and peaceably submit to our sentence ; but 
 if we are traduced, and really be innocent, tell ministers the 
 truth, — tell them they are tyrants ; and strain every effort to 
 avert their oppression. Do not descend to your graves with 
 the damning censure, that you suffered the liberties of your 
 country to be taken away, and that you were mutes as well 
 as cowards. Come forward, like men, — not in Meath alone, 
 but in Ireland,- everywhere. Protest against this atrocious 
 attempt, — look in the face the enemies of your country ; — 
 and if our liberties are to be cloven down, if Ireland is again 
 enthralled, let us at least stand firm and erect, * while the 
 assassins strike the blow;' and if. we fall, let it be like men 
 who deserve to be free. 
 
 EXERCISE XIV. THE LEPER. Willis. 
 
 [Tn reading or reciting this piece, a soft and chastened tone K 
 adapted to the touching narrative, and simple but beautifuhsTyTe of 
 the piece,, should prevail throughout.] 
 
 " Room for the leper ! room ! " — And, as he came, 
 The cry passed on — " Room for the leper ! room ! " 
 — Sunrise was slanting on the city gates, 
 Rosy and beautiful ; and from the hills 
 
274 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 The early-risen poor were coming in, 
 
 Duly and cheerfully to their toil, and up 
 
 Rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum 
 
 Of moving wheels, and multitudes astir, 
 
 And all that in a city murmur swells, — 
 
 Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear, 
 
 Aching with night's dull silence, — or the sick, 
 
 Hailing the welcome light and sounds, that chase 
 
 The death-like images of the dark away. 
 
 — " Room for the leper ! " And aside they stood— 
 
 Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood, — all 
 
 Who met him on his way, — and let him pass. 
 
 And onward through the open gate he came, 
 
 A leper with the ashes on his brow, 
 
 Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip 
 
 A covering, — stepping painfully and slow, 
 
 And with a difficult utterance, like one 
 
 Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, 
 
 Crying " Unclean ! Unclean ! " 
 
 'Twas now the first 
 Of the Judean autumn, and the leaves, 
 Whose shadows lay so still upon his path, 
 Had put their beauty forth beneath the eye 
 Of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young, 
 And eminently beautiful ; and life 
 Mantled in elegant fulness on his lip, 
 And sparkled in his glance ; and in his mien 
 There was a gracious pride, that every eye 
 Followed with benisons : — and this tvas he ! 
 
 And he went forth — alone ! Not one of all 
 The many whom he loved, nor she whose name 
 Was woven in the fibres of his heart 
 Breaking within him now, to come and speak 
 Comfort unto him. Yea, — he went his way, 
 Sick, and heart-broken, and alone, — to die ! 
 For God had cursed the leper \ 
 
 It was noon, 
 And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 
 In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, 
 Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 
 The loathsome water to his fevered lips, 
 Praying that he might be so blest, — to die ! 
 
PIECE'S F=OH PRACTICE. 275 
 
 -—Footsteps approached 4 and, with no strength to flee, 
 
 He drew the covering closer on his lip, 
 
 Crying, " Unclean ! Unclean ! " and in the folds 
 
 Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, 
 
 He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
 
 Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er 
 
 The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name, 
 
 * Helon ! "—The voice was like the master-tone 
 
 Of a rich instrument, — most strangely sweet ,* 
 
 And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
 
 And, for a moment, beat beneath the hot 
 
 And leprous scales with a restoring thrill 1 
 
 "' Helon ! arise ! " — and he forgot his curse, 
 
 And rose and stood before Him. 
 
 Love and awe 
 Mingled in the regard of Helen's eye, 
 As he beheld the stranger. — He was not 
 In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow 
 The symbol of a princely lineage wore ; — 
 No followers at His back, — nor in His hand 
 Buckler, or sword, or spear ; — yet in His mien 
 Command sat throned serene ; and if He smiled, 
 A kingly condescension graced His lips, 
 A lion would have crouched to in his lair. 
 His garb was simple, and His sandals worn, 
 His stature modelled with a perfect grace ; 
 ¥f.is countenance the impress of a God, 
 Touched with the opening innocence of a child t 
 His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
 In the serenest noon ; His hair unshorn 
 "Fell to His shoulders ; and His curling beard 
 The fulness of perfected manhood bore. 
 — He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, 
 As if His heart were moved, and stooping down, 
 He took a little water in His hand, 
 And laid it on his brow, and said, " Be clean ! " 
 And lo ! the scales fell from him ; and his blood 
 Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, 
 And his dry palms grew moist ; and on his brow 
 The dewy softness of an infant's stole : 
 His leprosy was cleansed ; and he fell down 
 Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped Him. 
 
276 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XV. AMERICAN FREEDOM. DeiUetf. 
 
 [In reading or declaiming the following passage, the blending of 
 poetic beauty of style with energy of sentiment, demands attention 
 to an earnest, yet chaste, expression in voice and action.] 
 
 Yes, let me be free ; let me go and come at my own will ; 
 let me do business and make journeys, without a vexatious 
 police or insolent soldiery, to watch my steps ; let me think, 
 and do, and speak, what I please, subject to no limit but that 
 which is set by the common weal ; subject to no law but that 
 which conscience binds upon me ; and I will bless my 
 country, and love its. most rugged rocks and its most barren 
 soil. 
 
 I have seen my countrymen, and have been with them, a 
 fellow-wanderer, in other lands ; and little did I see or feel 
 to warrant the apprehension, sometimes expressed, that for- 
 eign travel would weaken our patriotic attachments. One 
 sigh for home, — home, arose from all hearts. And why, 
 from palaces and courts, — why, from galleries of the arts, 
 where the marble softens into life, and painting sheds an 
 almost living presence of beauty around it, — why, from the 
 mountain's awful brow, and the lovely valleys and lakes 
 touched with the sunset hues of old romance, — why, from 
 those venerable and touching .ruins to which our very heart 
 grows, — why, from all these scenes, were they looking beyond 
 the swellings of the Atlantic wave, to a dearer and holier 
 spot of earth, — their own, own country ? Doubtless, it was 
 in part, because it is their country. But it was also, as every 
 one's experience will testify, because they knew that there 
 was no oppression, no pitiful exaction of petty tyranny; 
 because that there, they knew, was no accredited and irresist- 
 ible religious domination ; because that there, they knew, 
 they should not meet the odious soldier at every corner, nor 
 swarms of imploring beggars, the victims of misrule ; that 
 there, no curse causeless did fall, and no blight, worse than 
 plague and pestilence, descended amidst the pure dews of 
 heaven , because, in fine, that there, they knew, was liberty, 
 — upon all the green hills, and amidst all the peaceful valleys, 
 — liberty, the wall of fire around the humblest home; the 
 crown of glory, studded with her ever-blazing stars, upon the 
 proudest mansion ! 
 
 My friends, upon our own homes that blessing rests, that 
 guardian care and glorious crown ; and when we return to 
 those homes, and so long as we dwell in them, — so long as 
 no oppressor's foot invades their thresholds, let us bless them, 
 
PIECES FOE PRACTICE. 277 
 
 and hallow them as the homes of freedom! Let us make 
 them, too, the homes of a nobler freedom, — of freedom from 
 vice, from evil passion, — from every corrupting bondage of 
 the souL 
 
 exee ::sz rn. — : ::™i7.s^e:::~. — C 'oicper. 
 
 [The appropriate elocution of the following extract, implies i 
 free and lively style, highly expressive, in its character, — tmt not 
 carried to the extent of mimicry, either in voice or gesture. The 
 tone should be carefully kept from running into measured chant 01 
 
 The emphatic speaker dearly loves to oppose, 
 
 In contact inconvenient, nose to nose. — 
 
 As if the gnomon on his neighbour's phiz, 
 
 Touched with a magnet, had attracted his. 
 
 His whispered theme, dilated, and at larce. 
 
 Proves, after all, a wind-gun's any charge, — 
 
 An extract of his diary, — no more. — 
 
 A tasteless journal of the day before. 
 
 He walked abroad, r'ertaken in the rain, 
 
 Call'd on a friend, drank tea, stepped home again. 
 
 Resumed his purpose, had a world of talk 
 
 With one he stumbled on, and lost his walk. 
 
 I interrupt him with a sudden bow. — 
 
 ' Adieu, dear sir ! lest vou should lose it now.' 
 
 I cannot talk with civet in the room, — 
 A fine puss gentleman, that's all perfume : 
 His odoriferous attempts to please. 
 Perhaps might prosper with a swa*m of bees ; 
 But w* that make no honey, though we sting, — 
 (Poets,) — are sometimes apt to maul the thing. 
 
 A graver coxcomb we may sometimes see, 
 Quite as absurd, though not so light as he ; 
 A shallow brain behind a serious ma si:. 
 An oracle within an empty cask, 
 The solemn fop , — significant and budge, 
 A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge ; 
 He says but little, and that little said 
 [ wes all its weight, like loaded dice, to lead. 
 His wit invites yon, by his looks, to come, 
 But, when you knock, it never is at home : 
 Tis like a parcel sent you by the stage, — 
 Some handsome present, as your hopes pre-:.igre: 
 24 
 
278 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 'Tis heavy, bulky, and bids fair to prove 
 
 An absent friend's fidelity and love, — 
 
 But, when unpacked, your disappointment groans, 
 
 To find it stuffed with brickbats, earth, and stones. 
 
 EXERCISE XVII. SAND STORM IN THE DESERT. Frazer. 
 
 [The tones of serious and earnest description, as in the following 
 example, should always be firm, grave, and energetic, but spirited 
 and expressive.] ■ 
 
 Day dawned at last ; and morning found me still in a wide 
 and trackless waste of sand, — which, as the sun arose, was 
 only bounded by those flitting vapours which deceive the 
 thirsty traveller, with the belief that water is near, and have 
 thence obtained the name of ' the water of the desert.' In 
 vain I looked for the marks by which my friend Selim had 
 taught me to recognise a place of refreshment. 
 
 There was too much cause to fear that I was now in one 
 cf those terrible tracts of dry and moving sand, in which no 
 water is found; and which sometimes, when set in motion 
 by the wind, swallow up whole caravans and their conductors. 
 Alas ! the morning light, so earnestly expected, only dawned 
 to prove that I was surrounded by dangers I had never 
 d-eamed of. 
 
 The wind, which had blown so piercingly all night, lulled, 
 as it generally does, towards morning. But the hazy vapour, 
 loaded with light particles of sand, through which the sun 
 rose as red as blood, gave warning that the calm would not 
 continue long ; nor had I pursued my course another hour, 
 before the roar of the desert wind was heard ; columns of dust 
 began to rise in the horizon ; and the air became gradually 
 filled with drifting sand. 
 
 As the wind increased, the whole plain around me. which 
 had been heaped by former tempests into ridges like the 
 waves of a troubled sea, now got in motion ; the sand blew 
 from off their crests, like spray from the face of the waters, 
 and covered myself and horse with its dense eddies ; while, 
 often unable to distinguish the true course, my horse toiled 
 over the ridges, sinking up to the very girths, in their deep 
 baffling substance. 
 
 ] continued, for some hours, to persevere, struggling against 
 the furj- of the gale, when my alarm became increased by 
 observing that my horse, whicn hitherto had stood out with 
 admirable perseverance, even when his progress was the most 
 painfully impeded by the deep sand, now became terrified 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 279 
 
 and restive. He snorted, reared, and appeared unable, as 
 well as unwilling, to face the sharp drifting of the still in- 
 creasing storm. In vain I soothed him, or urged him on with 
 heels and hand: the animal, which hitherto had obeyed my 
 voice, almost like an intelligent being, now paid no attention 
 either to caresses or blows. In the severe squalls that drove 
 past at intervals, he fairly turned his back to them, and would 
 not move ; and, even when the wind lulled for a little, he, 
 could hardly be forced to advance a step. 
 
 I scorned to yield my life without a struggle, yet saw not 
 the means of preserving it.' To abandon my horse, would 
 have been, in fact, to give up hope ; for I could not have pro- 
 ceeded a single mile on foot ; yet to remain stationary, as I 
 was forced to do by the terror of the animal, involved mani- 
 fest destruction. Every thing that offered resistance to the 
 torrent of. sand, which sometimes poured along the earth, like 
 a rapid stream of water, was overwhelmed by it, in an in- 
 credibly short time : even while my horse stood still, for a 
 few moments, the drift mounted higher than his knees ; and, 
 as if sensible of his danger, he made furious efforts to extri- 
 cate himself. 
 
 Quite certain that my only hope lay in constant motion, and 
 the chance of gaining the leeside of some hillock or mass of 
 rock, that might afford a shelter till the storm should blow 
 over, I gave up my true course, turned my back to the wind, 
 and made all possible efforts to press forward ; and at last, 
 just when both man and horse were exhausted, during a par- 
 tial squall, I observed something like a rock or mound of 
 earth, looming through a dusky atmosphere. On approach- 
 ing it, I discovered that it was the bank of an inconsiderable 
 hollow, which was now nearly filled with sand, and the oppo- 
 site side of which, being exposed to the wind, had, by the 
 same means, become merely an inclined plane. Beneath 
 this bank I fortunately retired, resolved to trust to its protec- 
 tion, rather than run the risk of a farther progress, with the 
 imminent peril of perishing in the drifting sand, where vision 
 could not extend for the space of many yards. 
 
280 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XVIII. NIGHT IN VENICE. ByTOTl. 
 
 [In the following passage, the tones are low, grave, and slow,-— 
 the pauses long, — the articulation soft, but clear.] 
 
 Palace of the patrician Lioni. Lioni, laying aside the cloak and 
 mask which the Venetian nobles wore in public. 
 
 Lioni. I will to rest, right weary of this revel, 
 The gayest we have held, for rnany moons. 
 And yet, I know not why, it cheered me not ; 
 There came a heaviness across my heart, 
 Which, in the lightest movement of the dance, 
 Oppressed me, 
 
 And through my spirit chilled my blood, until 
 A damp, like death, rose o'er my brow ; I strove 
 To laugh the thought away, but 'twould not be ; 
 So that I left the festival before 
 It reached its zenith, and will woo my pillow 
 For thoughts more tranquil, or forgetfulness. 
 
 I will try 
 Whether the air will calm my spirits : 'tis 
 A goodly night : the cloudy wind which blew 
 From the Levant, hath crept into its cave, 
 A.nd the broad moon has brightened. — What a stillness 
 .And what a contrast with the scene I left, 
 Where the tall torches' glare, and silver lamps' 
 More pallid gleam along the tap'stried walls, 
 Spread over the reluctant gloom which haunts 
 Those vast and dimly-latticed galleries, 
 A dazzling mass of artificial light, 
 Which showed all things, but nothing as it was ! 
 
 Around me are the stars and waters- 
 Worlds mirrored in the ocean, goodlier sight 
 Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass ; 
 And the great element, which is to space 
 What-ocean is to earth, spreads its blue depths, 
 Softened with the first breathings of the spring ; 
 The high moon sails upon her beauteous way, 
 Serenely smoothing o'er the lofty walls 
 Of those tall piles, and sea-girt palaces, 
 Whose porphyry pillars, and whose costly fronts, 
 Fraught with the orient spoil of many marbles, 
 Like altars ranged along the broad canal, 
 Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed. 
 Reared up from out the waters, scarce less strangely 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 281 
 
 Than those more massy and mysterious giants 
 
 Of architecture, those Titanian fabrics, 
 
 Which point in Egypt's plains to times that have 
 
 No other record. All is gentle : nought 
 
 Stirs rudely ; hut, congenial with the night, 
 
 Whatever walks, is gliding like a spirit. 
 
 The tinkling of some vigilant guitars 
 
 Of sleepless lovers to a wakeful mistress, 
 
 And cautious opening of the casement, showing 
 
 That he is not unheard ; while her young hand,— 
 
 Fair as the moonlight, of which if seems part, 
 
 So delicately white, it trembles in 
 
 The act of opening the forbidden lattice, 
 
 To let in love through music, — makes his heart 
 
 Thrill like his lyre-strings at the sight ; — the dash 
 
 Phosphoric of the oar, or rapid twinkle 
 
 Of the far lights of skimming gondolas, 
 
 And the responsive voices of the choir 
 
 Of boatmen, answering back, with verse for verse; — 
 
 Some dusky shadow, checkering the Eialto ; — 
 
 Some glimmering palace roof, or tapering spire ; — -* 
 
 Are all the sights and sounds which here pervade 
 
 The ocean-born and earth-commanding city. 
 
 How sweet and soothing is the hour of calm ! 
 
 I thank thee, Night ! for thou hast chased away 
 
 Those horrid bodements, which, amidst the throng, 
 
 I could not dissipate, and, — with the blessing 
 
 Of thy benign and quiet influence, — 
 
 Now will I to my couch, although to rest 
 
 Is almost wronging such a night as thi« 
 
 EXERCISE XIX. INCAPABILITY OF THE BRITISH MINISTRY OF 
 
 1782.— Lord Holland. 
 
 From a Speech on the Address after the news had been received, of 
 the surrender of Lord Cornwallis" 1 s army in Virginia. 
 
 [The style of the following extract, is, at first, the same with 
 that of Exercise IV., but afterwards rises to great vehemence,— - 
 in the most powerful style of parliamentary invective.] 
 
 I expected, and I know it has been expected by many oth- 
 ers, to hear on this occasion, his majesty declare from the 
 throne, that he had been deceived and imposed upon, by 
 misinformation and misrepresentation ; that, in consequence 
 of his delusion, the parliament had been deluded ; but that 
 24* 
 
282 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 now the deception was at an end ; and requesting of his 
 parliament to devise the most speedy and efficacious meana 
 of putting an end to the public calamities ; instead of which 
 they heard a speech breathing little less than vengeance, 
 misery, and blood. 
 
 Those who are ignorant of the personal character of the 
 sovereign, and who imagine the speech to originate with 
 him, might be led to suppose that he was an unfeeling despot, 
 rejoicing in the horrid sacrifice of the liberty and lives of his 
 subjects, who, when all hope of victory was vanished, still 
 thirsted for revenge. • The ministers, who advised this 
 speech, I affirm to be a curse to the country, over the affairs 
 of which they have too long been suffered to preside. From 
 that unrivalled pre-eminence which we so lately possessed, 
 they have made us the object of ridicule and scorn to the 
 surrounding nations. * 
 
 A noble lord has, indeed, thought fit to ascribe the Ameri- 
 can war, and all its attendant calamities, to the speeches of 
 opposition. Oh ! wretched and incapable minister, whore 
 measures are framed with so little foresight, and executed 
 with so little firmness, that because a rash and intemperate 
 invective is uttered against them, in the House of Commons, 
 they shall instantly crumble in pieces, and bring down ruin 
 upon the country ! Miserable statesman ! to allow for nu 
 contingencies of fortune ; no ebullition of passion, no collis- 
 ion of sentiment ! Can he expect the concurrence of every 
 individual in this House ; and is he so weak or wicked, as 
 to contrive plans of government of such a texture, that the 
 intervention of circumstances, obvious and unavoidable, will 
 occasion their total failure, and hazard the existence of the 
 empire ? 
 
 Ministers must expect to hear of the calamities in which 
 they have involved the empire, again and again, — not merely 
 in this House, but, as I trust, at the tribunal of justice. For 
 the time will surely come, when an oppressed and irritated 
 people will firmly call for signal punishment on those whose 
 counsels have brought the nation so near to the brink of 
 destruction. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 283 
 
 EXERCISE XX. INFLUENCE OF THE CHARACTER OF WASHING* 
 
 ton. — Webster. 
 
 From the Address delivered at the completion of the Bunker-Hill 
 Monument. 
 
 [This piece demands full feeling, and vivid expression, with sus- 
 tained dignity of tone and action.] 
 
 America has furnished to the world the character of 
 Washington ! And if our American institutions had done 
 nothing else, that alone would have entitled them to the 
 respect of mankind. 
 
 Washington ! — " First in war, first in peace, and first in 
 the hearts of his countrymen ! " — Washington is all our 
 own ! The enthusiastic veneration and regard in which the 
 people of the United States hold him, prove them to be 
 worthy of such a countryman ; while his reputation abroad 
 reflects the highest honour on his country and its institutions. 
 I would cheerfully put the question to-day to the intelligence 
 of Europe and the world, what character of the century, 
 upon the whole, stands out in the relief of history, most 
 pure, most respectable, most sublime ; and I doubt not, that, 
 by a suffrage approaching to unanimity, the answer would 
 be Washington ! 
 
 This structure,^ by its uprightness, its solidity, its durabil- 
 ity, is no unfit emblem of his character. His public virtues 
 and public principles were as firm as the earth on which it 
 stands ; his personal motives as pure as the serene heaven in 
 which its summit is lost. But, indeed, though a fit, it is an 
 inadequate emblem. Towering high above the column which 
 our hands have builded, beheld, not by the inhabitants of a 
 single city, or a single State, — ascends the colossal grandeui 
 of his character, and his life. In all the constituents of the 
 one, — in all the acts of the other, — in all its titles to immortal 
 love, admiration and renown, — it is an American production. 
 It is the embodiment and vindication of our transatlantic 
 liberty. Born upon our soil, — of parents also born upon 
 it, — never for a moment having had a sight of the old 
 world, — instructed, according to the modes of his time, only 
 in the spare, plain, but wholesome elementary knowledge 
 which our institutions provide for the children of the peo- 
 ple, — growing up beneath and penetrated by the genuine 
 influences of American society, — growing up amidst our 
 
 * Bunker-Hill Monument. 
 
284 elocutioni&/\ 
 
 expanding 1 , but not luxurious, civilization, — partaking in our 
 great destiny of labour, our long contest with unreclaimed 
 nature and uncivilized man, — our agony of glory, the war 
 of independence, — our great victory of peace, the formation 
 of the Union and the establishment of the Constitution, — he 
 is all — all our own ! That crowded and glorious life, — 
 
 " Where multitudes of virtues passed along, 
 Each pressing foremost, in the mighty throng 
 Contending to be seen, then making room 
 For greater multitudes that were to come ;" — 
 
 that life was the life of an American citizen. 
 
 I claim him for America. In all the perils, in every dark- 
 ened moment of the state, in the midst of the reproaches of 
 enemies and the misgiving of friends, — I turn to that tran- 
 scendant name for courage and for consolation. To him 
 who denies, or doubts, whether our fervid liberty can be com- 
 bined with law, with order, with the security of property, 
 with the pursuit and advancement of happiness, — to him 
 who denies that our institutions are capable of producing 
 exaltation of soul, and the passion of true glory, — to him 
 who denies that we have contributed anything to the stock 
 of great lessons and great examples, — to all these I reply by 
 pointing to Washington ! 
 
 EXERCISE XXI. CATARACT OF LODORE.^ Southey. 
 
 [This piece is intended as an exercise in modulation, and should 
 be read in that vivid style which makes the ' sound ' ' seem an echo 
 to the sense.'] 
 
 HOW DOES THE WATER COME DOWN AT LODORE ? 
 
 Here it comes sparkling, 
 
 And there it lies darkling ; 
 
 Here smoking and frothing, 
 
 Its tumult and wrath in, 
 It hastens along, conflicting, and strong, 
 
 Now striking and raging, 
 
 As if a war waging, 
 Its caverns and rocks among. 
 
 Rising and leaping, 
 Sinking and creeping, 
 Swelling and flinging, 
 Showering and springing, 
 
 * A celebrated fall, on Derwent water, in Cumberland. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 285 
 
 Eddying-and whisking, 
 Spouting and frisking, 
 Twining and twisting 
 
 Around and around, — 
 Collecting, disjecting, 
 
 With endless rebound ; 
 Smiting and fighting, 
 A sight to delight in ; 
 Confounding, astounding, 
 Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. 
 
 Receding and speeding, 
 And shocking and rocking, 
 And darting and parting, 
 And threading and spreading, 
 And whizzing and hissing, 
 And dripping and skipping, 
 And whitening and brightening, 
 And quivering and shivering, 
 And hitting and splitting, 
 And shining and twining, 
 And rattling and battling, 
 And shaking and quaking, 
 And pouring and roaring, 
 And waving and raving, 
 And tossing and crossing, 
 And flowing and growing, 
 And running and stunning, 
 And hurrying and skurrying, 
 And glittering and frittering, 
 And gathering and feathering, 
 And dinning and spinning, 
 And foaming and roaming, 
 And dropping and hopping, 
 And working and jerking, 
 And heaving and cleaving, 
 And thundering and floundering. 
 
 And falling and crawling and sprawling, 
 
 And driving and riving and striving, 
 
 And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, 
 
 And sounding and bounding and rounding, 
 
 And bubbling and troubling and doubling, 
 
 Dividing and gliding and sliding, 
 
 And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 
 
 And clattering and battering and shattering, 
 
286 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 And gleaming and streaming and steaming and beaming, 
 And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, 
 And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping, 
 And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, 
 Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, 
 Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, 
 Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
 Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, 
 And thumping and flumping and bumping and jumping 
 And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing ; 
 
 And so never ending, but always descending, 
 Sounds and motions for ever and ever are blending, 
 All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar ; — 
 And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 
 
 exercise xxn. — the British constitution. — Sir Robert Peel. 
 
 From the speech at the Peel banquet, Glasgow, 1837. 
 
 [This extract is an example of noble and impressive declamation. 
 The tone should be powerful and inspiring, — the style of gesture, 
 lofty and commanding.] 
 
 When we are told of the general diffusion of the light of 
 knowledge, of the long settled and virtuous habits of the 
 people, of the existence of a high standard of morality, how, 
 I ask, were all these blessings attained ? Do virtuous habits, 
 a high standard of morality, proficiency in the arts and em- 
 bellishments of life, depend upon physical formation, or the 
 latitude in which we are placed ? Do they not depend upon 
 the civil and religious institutions which distinguish the 
 country ? 
 
 If the testimony which 1 have quoted from Lord John 
 Russell, be true, as it is disinterested, and if you are con- 
 vinced that the habits of a country must be formed by its 
 institutions, and if you are also convinced that our institu- 
 tions are superior to those of other countries, let us take his 
 lordship's advice, and determine to cling to our native gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 I never have desponded. When I have been fighting the 
 battle with a small minority, I never desponded. I knew 
 the time would come, — after the first agitation naturally ac- 
 companying the mighty changes which have been made, — I 
 knew the timo would come when the old honest heart of 
 England and Scotland, would rally round its still dearly- 
 beloved institutions 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 287 
 
 If I did not despond then, with what feelings of confidence 
 do you think I shall now return to take my part in defending 
 those institutions? All the excitement that, accompanies 
 mighty changes, is now beginning quietly to settle, — the 
 influence, the disturbing influence of those changes, is grad- 
 ually lessening ; — the dazzling illusions of ' glorious days ' 
 are dissipated; and we are now permitted to see thir.gs in 
 their true colours. The convictions, the feelings, the affec- 
 tions, of the people are gravitating towards their old centre, 
 in which sit enthroned respect for property, — love of rational 
 freedom, — and attachment to long-established and prescrip- 
 tive authority. 
 
 Yes; from these walls a- spirit shall go forth, that shall 
 survive when this edifice shall be, like an unsubstantial 
 pageant, faded. That spirit shall survive by the remem- 
 brance of this day, spreading a contagious influence into 
 every part of the empire, — animating the desponding and 
 encouraging the brave. 
 
 It shall go forth, exulting in, but not abusing, its strength. 
 It shall go forth, remembering, in the days of its prosperity, 
 the pledges it gave in the time of its depression. It shall 
 go forth, uniting a disposition to correct abuses, to redress 
 grievances. It shall go forth, uniting the disposition to im- 
 prove, with the resolution to maintain and defend, by that 
 spirit of unbought affection which is the chief defence of 
 nations. 
 
 Our ancient constitution shall survive at last, protecting 
 the rich from spoliation, and the poor from oppression. No 
 tawdry emblems of revolution shall float over its ruin. 
 
 The flag, that for a thousand years 
 Has braved the battle and the breeze, 
 
 shall still float over the ramparts. And that faith, and those 
 nf*ional establishments, intended for its protection, as they 
 cy'st respectively in the three branches of the United King- 
 dom, — those establishments which kings have sworn to pro- 
 tect, and to the maintenance of which the national honour is 
 pledged, — as essential parts of a great national compact, — 
 shall survive, and the religion which we profess, — the off- 
 spring of free inquiry, — shall find in the diffusion of sound 
 knowledge, new sources of strength ; and great as may be 
 the storm of adversity to which it may be exposed, it shall 
 come out proved and fortified by the trial, and remain rooted 
 deeply in the convictions, the feelings, and affections of a 
 Protestant people. 
 
288 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XXIII. KING EDWARDS ADDRESS TO f < IRMY, AT 
 
 THE BATTLE OF GLADSMOOR. BulweT. 
 
 [An example of the most powerful style of declamation. Voice, 
 attitude and action, should, in this case, be toned to their highest 
 pitch.] 
 
 Englishmen and friends, to bold deeds go but few words. 
 Before you is the foe ! From Ravenspur to London I have 
 marched ; treason flying from my sword, loyalty gathering 
 to my standard. With but two thousand men, on the 14th 
 of March, I entered England: on the 14th of April, fifty 
 thousand in my muster-roll. Who shall say, then, that I am 
 not king, when one month mans a monarch's army from his 
 subjects' love ? 
 
 And well ye know that my cause is yours and England's. 
 Those against us are men who would rule in despite of law 
 — barons whom I gorged with favours, and who would reduce 
 this fair realm of king, lords, and commons, to be the appan- 
 age and property of one man's measureless ambition, — the 
 park, forsooth, the homestead to Lord Warwick's private 
 house ! 
 
 Ye gentlemen and knights of England, let them and their 
 rabble prosper, and your properties will be despoiled, — your 
 lives insecure, — all law struck dead. What diners Richard 
 of Warwick from Jack Cade, save that if his name is nobler, 
 so is his treason greater ? 
 
 Commoners and soldiers of England, — freemen, however 
 humble, — what do these rebel lords, who would rule in the 
 name of Henry of Lancaster, desire ? — To reduce you to 
 villains and bondmen, as your forefathers were to them. Ye 
 owe freedom from the barons to the just laws of my sires, 
 your kings. 
 
 Gentlemen and knights, — commoners and soldiers, Ed- 
 ward the Fouith upon his throne, will not profit by a victory 
 more than you. This is no war of dainty chivalry: it is a 
 war of truj men against false. — No quarter! Spare not 
 either knight or knave ! Warwick, forsooth, will not smite 
 the commoners. Truly not : — the rabble are his friends. / 
 say to you, Slay all ! ' What heel spares the viper's brood ? ' 
 
 Hark ! to their bombards, — the enemy would fight from 
 afar, for they excel us in their archers and gunners. — ^Upon 
 
 * From the words, 'Upon them,' to the end of the piece, — except 
 the short sentence, ' Sir Oliver/ &c, — the tone is properly swelled to a 
 *hout 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 289 
 
 them, then, — hand to hand, and man to man ! Advance, ban- 
 ners ! Sound trumpets ! — Sir Oliver, my bassinet ! Soldiers ! 
 if my standard falls, look for the plume upon your king's 
 helmet i — Charge ! 
 
 EXERCISE XXIV. WARWICK'S ADDRESS TO HIS TROOPS, AT THE 
 
 BATTLE OF GLADSMOOR. Bulwer. 
 
 [A graver example than the preceding, but in the same general 
 style.] 
 
 My friends, my followers, and my children ! the field we 
 have entered is one from which there is no retreat : here 
 must your leader conquer, or here die. It is»not a parchment 
 pedigree, — it is not a name, derived from the ashes of dead 
 men, that make the only charter of a king. We English- 
 men were but slaves, if, in giving crown and sceptre to a 
 mortal like ourselves,, we ask not, in return, the kingly 
 virtues. 
 
 Beset of old by evil counsellors, the reign of Henry VL 
 was obscured, and the weal of the realm endangered. Mine 
 own wrongs seemed to me great, but the disasters of my 
 country not less. I deemed that, in the race of York, Eng- 
 land would know a wiser and happier rule. What was, in 
 this mine error, ye partly know, — a prince dissolved in lux- 
 urious vices, a nobility degraded by minions and bloodsuckers 
 a people plundered by purveyors, and a land disturbed by 
 brawl and riot. 
 
 But ye know not all. — God makes man's hearth man's 
 altar : — our hearths were polluted. A king's word should be 
 as fast as the pillars of the world. — What man ever trusted 
 Edward, and was not deceived ? Even now the unknightly 
 liar stands in arms with the weight of perjury on his soul. 
 In his father's town of York, ye know that he took, three 
 short weeks since, solemn oath of fealty to king Henry ; and 
 now king Henry is his captive, and king Henry's holy crown 
 upon his traitor's head. 
 
 Traitors, calls he us ? What name, then, rank enough for 
 him? — Edward gave the promise of a brave man; and I 
 served him : he proved a base, a false, a licentious, and a 
 cruel king ; and I forsook him. May all free hearts, in all 
 free lands, so serve kings, when they become tyrants ! 
 
 Ye fight against a cruel and atrocious usurper, whose bold 
 hand cannot sanctify a black heart. Ye fight not only for 
 king Henry, the meek and the godly ; ye fight not for him 
 25 
 
290 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 alone, but for his young and princely son, the grandchild of 
 Henry of Agincourt,* who, old men tell me, has that hero's 
 face, and who, I know, has that hero's frank, and royal, and 
 noble soul. Ye fight for the freedom of your land, for what 
 is better than any king's cause, — for justice and mercy, for 
 truth and manhood's virtues, against corruption in the laws, 
 slaughter by the scaffold, falsehood in a ruler's lips, and 
 shameless harlotry in the councils of ruthless power. 
 
 The order I have ever given in war, I give now, — we war 
 against the leaders of evil, — not against the helpless tools : 
 we war against our oppressors, — not against our misguided 
 breth *en. Strike down every plumed crest ; but, when the 
 strife is over, spare every common man. 
 
 Hark ! while 4 speak, I hear the march of your foe ! — Up 
 standards ! blow trumpets ! — And now, — as I brace my bas- 
 sinet, — may God grant us all a glorious victory, or a glorious 
 grave ! * 
 
 tOn my merry men ! Show these London loons the stout 
 hearts of Warwickshire t and Yorkshire ! On my merry 
 men ! — A Warwick ! A Warwick ! 
 
 exekcise xxv. — night among the alps. — Montgomery. 
 
 [The appropriate effect of sublimity of style, as in the following 
 piece, h to deepen and swell the tone, and to lengthen the pauses. 
 The language being in the form of poetry, the effect, in all particu 
 Jars, is greatly heightened.] 
 
 Come, golden Evening, in the west 
 
 Enthrone the storm-dispelling sun, 
 And let the triple rainbow rest 
 
 O'er all the mountain-tops ; — 't is vlone : 
 The deluge ceases ; — bold and bright, 
 
 The rainbow shoots from hill to hill : 
 Down sinks the sun ; on presses night, 
 
 — Mont Blanc is lovely still ! 
 
 There take thy stand, my spirit, spread 
 
 The world of shadows at thy feei ; 
 And mark how calmly, overhead, 
 
 The stars, like saints in glory, meet : 
 While, hid in solitude sublime, 
 
 Methinks I muse on Nature's tomb, 
 
 * Pronounced azhincoor. f The tone is here a full shout. % Pro 
 tuunced Warwickshire. 
 
PIECES FoR PRACTICE. 291 
 
 And hear the passing- foot of Time 
 Step through the gloom. 
 
 All in a moment, — crash on crash ! — 
 
 From precipice to precipice, 
 An avalanche's ruins dash 
 
 Down to the nethermost abyss, — 
 Invisible ; — the ear alone 
 
 Follows the uproar, till it dies : 
 Echo on echo, groan for groan, 
 
 From deep to deep replies ! 
 
 — Silence again the darkness seals, — 
 
 Darkness that may be felt. But soon 
 The silver-clouded east reveals 
 
 The midnight spectre of the moon ; 
 In half-eclipse she lifts her horn, 
 
 Yet o'er the host of heaven supreme, 
 Brings a faint semblance of a morn, 
 
 With her awakening beam. 
 
 Ha ! at her touch, these Alpine heights 
 
 Unreal mockeries appear ; 
 With blacker shadows, ghastlier light, 
 
 Enlarging as she climbs the sphere ; 
 A crowd of apparitions pale ! 
 
 — I hold my breath in chill suspense, — 
 They seem so exquisitely frail, — 
 
 Lest they should vanish hence. 
 
 Yet, O ye everlasting hills ! 
 
 Buildings of God, not made with hands, 
 Whose word performs whate'er he wills, 
 
 Whose word, though ye shall perish, stands , 
 Can there be eyes that look on you, 
 
 Till tears of rapture make them dim, 
 Nor in His works the Maker view — 
 
 Then lose His works in Him ? 
 
292 ELOCUTIONIST, 
 
 EXERCISE XXVI. DEATH OF THE I..AST CONSTANTINE. Mrs. 
 
 Hemam. 
 
 [The following extract is an exercise in varied modulation.- The 
 opening scene is one of deep repose, requiring low, soft and slow 
 utterance, and slight gesture. The approach of the assailants and 
 the joining of the corahat, change the whole manner to increasing 
 and intense excitement of voice and action. The intermingled reflec- 
 tions of awe, and pathos, and admiration, vary the utterance and 
 action to grave and chastened expression, or to glowing warmth of 
 feeling. The piece closes with the deepest tones of pathos and 
 solemnity ; and the action is subdued and repressed accordingly.] 
 
 The streets grow still and lonely ; — and the star, 
 
 The last, brignt lingerer in the path of morn, 
 
 Gleams faint ; and in the very lap of war, 
 
 As if young Hope with Twilight's ray were born, 
 
 Awhile the city sleeps : — her throngs, o'erwom 
 
 With fears and watchings, to their homes retire ; 
 
 Nor is the balmy air of dayspring torn 
 
 With battle sounds ; the winds in sighs expire ; 
 
 And Quiet broods in mists, that veil the sunbeam's fire. 
 
 The city sleeps ! — ay ! on the combat's eve, 
 
 And by the scaffold's brink, and midst the swell 
 
 Of angry seas, hath Nature won reprieve 
 
 Thus from her cares. The brave have slumbered well, 
 
 And even the fearful, in their dungeon cell, 
 
 Chained between Life and Death ! — Such rest be thine, 
 
 For conflicts wait thee still ! — Yet, who can tell, 
 
 In that brief hour, how much of Heaven may shine 
 
 Full on thy spirit's dream ? — Sleep, weary Constantine ! 
 
 Doth tlw blast rise ? — The clouded east is red, 
 
 As if a siorm were gathering ; and I hear 
 
 What seems like heavy raindrops, or the tread, 
 
 The soft and smothered step, of those that fear 
 
 Surprise from ambushed foes. — Hark ! yet more near 
 
 It comes, — a many-toned and mingled sound, — 
 
 A rustling, as of winds where boughs are sere, — 
 
 A rolling, as of wheels that shake the ground 
 
 From far, — a heavy rush like seas that break their bound ! 
 
 Wake ! wake ! — They come, from sea and shore ascending 
 In hosts, your ramparts ! Arm ye for the day ! 
 Who now may sleep amidst the thunders, rending, 
 Through tower and wall, a path for their irray ? 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 293 
 
 Hark ! how the trumpet cheers them to the prey, 
 
 With its wild voice, to which the seas reply ! 
 
 And the earth rocks beneath their engines' sway, 
 
 And the far hills repeat their battle-cry, 
 
 Till that fierce tumult seems to shake the vaulted sky ! 
 
 They fail not now, the generous band, that long 
 
 Have ranged their swords around a falling throne. 
 
 Still, in those fearless men the walls are strong, 
 
 Hearts, such as rescue empires, are their own ! 
 
 — Shall those high energies be vainly shown ? 
 
 No ! from their towers the invading tide is driven 
 
 Back, like the Red sea waves, when God had blown 
 
 With his strong winds ! — the dark-browed ranks are riven :— 
 
 Shout ! warriors of the cross ; — for victory is of Heaven. 
 
 Stand 'firm ! — Again the crescent host is rushing, 
 
 And the waves foam, as on the galleys sweep, 
 
 With all their fires and darts, though blood is gushing 
 
 Fast o'er their sides, as rivers to the deep. — 
 
 Stand firm!— there yet is hope; the ascent is steep; 
 
 And from on high no shaft descends in vain ; — 
 
 But those that fall, swell up the mangled heap, 
 
 In the red moat, the dying and the slain ; 
 
 And o'er that fearful bridge the assailants mount again. 
 
 Oh ! the dread mingling, in that awful hour, 
 
 Of all terrific sounds ! — the savage tone 
 
 Of the wild horn, the cannon's peal, the shower 
 
 Of hissing darts, the crash of walls o'erthrown, 
 
 The deep, dull tambour's beat! — Man's voice alone 
 
 Is there unheard : ye may not catch the cry 
 
 Of trampled thousands ; — prayer, and shriek, and moan,— 
 
 All drowned, as that fierce hurricane sweeps by, — 
 
 But swell the unheeded sum that pays for victory! 
 
 Where art thou Constantine ? — where Death is reaping 
 His sevenfold harvest ; where the stormy light, 
 Fast as the artillery's thunderbolts are sweeping, 
 Throws meteor-bursts o'er battle's noonday night ; 
 Where the towers rock and crumble from their height, 
 As the earthquake and the engines ply 
 Like red Vesuvio ; and where human might 
 Confronts all this, and still brave hearts beat high, 
 While cimeters ring loud on shivering panoply. 
 25* 
 
294 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Where art thou, Constantine ? — where Christian blood 
 
 Hath bathed the walls in torrents, and in vain, — 
 
 Where Faith and Valour perish in the flood, 
 
 Whose billows, rising o'er their bosoms, gain 
 
 Dark strength each moment, — where the gallant slain 
 
 Around the banner of the cross lie strewed, 
 
 Thick as the vine-leaves on the autumnal plain, — 
 
 Where all, save one high spirit, is subdued, 
 
 And through the breach press on the o'erwhelming multitude 
 
 Now is he battling midst a host, alone, 
 
 As the last cedar stems awhile the sway 
 
 Of mountain storms, whose fury hath o'erthrown 
 
 Its forest brethren, in their green array, 
 
 And he hath cast his purple robe away, 
 
 With its imperial bearings, that his sword 
 
 An iron ransom from the chain may pay, 
 
 And win, what haply Fate may yet accord, 
 
 A soldier's death, — the all, now left an empire's lord ! 
 
 Search for him now, where bloodiest lie the files 
 
 Which once were men, the faithful and the brave ! 
 
 Search for him now, where loftiest rise the piles 
 
 Of shattered helms and shields, which could not save, 
 
 And crests and banners, never more to wave 
 
 In the free winds of heaven ! — He is of those 
 
 O'er whom the hosts may rush, the tempest rave, 
 
 And the steeds trample, and the spearmen close, 
 
 Yet wake them not, — so deep their long and last repose ! 
 
 And thou ! that, on thy ramparts proudly dying, 
 As a crowned leader in such hour should die, 
 Upon thy pyre of shivered spears art lying, 
 With the heavens o'er thee for a canopy, 
 And banners for thy shroud, — no tear, no sigh, 
 Shall mingle with thy dirge ; for thou art now 
 Beyond vicissitude. — Lo ! reared on high, 
 The Crescent blazes, while the Cross must bow ; — 
 But where no change can reach, — there, Constantine. ait 
 thou ! 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 295 
 
 EXERCISE XXVII. GENIUS AND METHOD. Diderot. 
 
 [As an exercise in humorous expression, the following piece 
 requires attention to full liveliness and perfect freedom, and even 
 gaiely of tone. To read such pieces in a dull, monotonous manner t 
 is, of course, to defeat their intention, both in elocution and com- 
 position.] 
 
 At seven o'clock, the company sat down to cards, and 
 Messrs. Le Roy, Grimm, the Abbe Galiani, and I, began to 
 converse. 
 
 A dispute arose between Grimm and Le Roy about genius 
 and method. Grimm detests method: it is, according to 
 him, the pedantry of literature. Those that can do nothing, 
 he maintained, but arrange, had better not give themselves 
 the trouble ; those who can learn nothing but by means of 
 arrangements, had as well remain ignorant. " But," said 
 Le Roy, " it is method which makes genius available." — 
 '* And which spoils it." They said a great many things 
 which it is not worth while mentioning to you ; and they 
 would have said a great many more, had not Galiani inter- 
 rupted them. 
 
 " I remember a fable, my friends, which i must tell you. 
 It is rather long, perhaps, but it won't tire you. 
 
 " One day, in the middle of a wood, there arose a dispute 
 about singing, between the nightingale and the cuckoo. 
 Each gave the preference to his own talent. ' What bird,' 
 said the cuckoo, i has so simple, natural, and measured a 
 song as I?' — 'What bird,' said the nightingale, 'has a song 
 so sweet, varied, light, and brilliant as mine ? ' — ' I say few 
 things, 1 said the cuckoo ; ' but they have weight and order, 
 and one remembers them.' — 'I am fond of talking,' said 
 the nightingale, * but what I say is always new, and never 
 wearies. I enchant the woods., the cuckoo saddens them. 
 He is so attached to his mother's lesson, that he never haz- 
 ards a note he has not learned from her. I acknowledge no 
 teacher: I laugh at rules; and it is when I break through 
 them that I am most admired. Where is the comparison be- 
 tween your dull method and my happy nights ? ' 
 
 " The cuckoo made many attempts to interrupt the night- 
 ingale. But nightingales sing for ever, and never listen : — 
 it is a little failing of theirs. Our friend, carried away by 
 her ideas, ran on without minding her rival's answer. 
 
 " At last, however, they agreed to refer the matter to some 
 arbitrator. But where were they to find an enlightened and 
 impartial judge ? They set out in search of one. 
 
296 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 " In crossing a meadow, they fell in with an ass of the 
 most grave and solemn aspect. Such length of ears nevei 
 was seen since the creation of the species. ' Ah ! ' said the 
 cuckoo, ' we are in luck. Our quarrel is an affair of the 
 ear, and here is an admirable pair of them. This is the 
 very judge we want.' 
 
 " The ass was browsing, and never dreaming that he was 
 one day to be a judge of music. But stranger things some- 
 times happen. Our two birds lighted beside him, compli- 
 mented him on his gravity and judgment, explained the 
 subject of their dispute, and begged him very humbly to 
 decide it. 
 
 " But the ass, scarcely turning round his clumsy head, 
 and continuing to browse most diligently, made them a sign 
 with his ears, that he was hungry, and that he was not that 
 day, ' holding a bed of justice.' The birds insist, — the ass 
 continues to browse. At last, however, his appetite was 
 appeased. 
 
 " There were some trees planted on the skirt of the mea- 
 dow. ' Well,' said he, ' go there, and I will come to you. 
 You sing and I will digest. I will listen to you, and then 
 give you my opinion.' 
 
 " The birds take flight, and perch in a tree. The ass 
 follows them, with the air and step of a ehief justice. . He 
 lay down on the grass, and called to them, ' Begin : the 
 court will hear you.' 
 
 " ' My lord,' said the cuckoo, ' you must not lose a note I 
 sing ; you must seize the character of my song ; and, above 
 all, be pleased to observe its contrivance and method.' Then, 
 drawing himself up, and clapping his wings each time, he 
 began to sing, ' Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckcuckoo, cuckoo, cuck- 
 cuckoo ! ' and after having combined these notes in all possi- 
 ble ways, he held his peace. 
 
 " The nightingale, without any preamble, began to display 
 her voice, struck into the boldest modulations, and warbled 
 the most singular and original strains. Her song was suc- 
 cessively sw r eet, airy, brilliant, and pathetic ; but it was not 
 music for everybody. 
 
 " Carried away by her enthusiasm, she would have sung 
 longer ; but the ass, who had been yawning fearfully all the 
 while, interrupted her. ' I have no doubt,' said he, ' that all 
 that you have been singing is very fine, but I can make noth- 
 ing of it. It seems to me to be strange, confused, and inco- 
 herent. You are perhaps more learned than your rival, but 
 he is more methodical than you ; and, for my part, I am foi 
 method.' 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 297 
 
 " Now," said the Abbe, addressing M. Le Roy, and point- 
 ing to Grimm with his finger, " there is the nightingale, — 
 you are the cuckoo, — and I am the ass who decides in your 
 favour. Good night ! " 
 
 EXERCISE XXVIII. ODE TO AN ANCIENT SYCAMORE, ON THE 
 
 banks of the ohio. — Dr. Bird. 
 
 [This piece requires, in reading or recitation, the firm tone of 
 grave but lofty sentiment; the utterance full, but softened by awe; 
 the pitch low , movement slow ; and pauses long : the whole strain 
 being that of deep musing.] 
 
 Rude tree, now gaunt with eld, 
 Storm-worn and thunder-scarred, without a spray, 
 
 Dodder, or moss, or misletoe, to deck 
 
 Thine antique nakedness, — majestic wreck 
 Of the great wilderness now passed away, — 
 What tales of blood, of wild and woodland fray, 
 
 Lie in thy hollows cell'd, 
 Haply could'st thou but speak the scenes thou hast beheld ! 
 
 A monarch in past years, 
 Thy speckled boughs, though now so leafless, roll'd 
 
 Billows of verdure in the summer gust, 
 
 And to the swelling river swept, like dust, 
 Clouds of autumnal tribute, thus, of old, 
 When the red Shawnee rotted in thy mould, 
 
 The grave-yard of his peers, — 
 The Dark and Bloody Ground, — the lonely land of tears. 
 
 Yes, at thy root, the roar 
 Of wrath has sounded, and the death-song woke ; 
 
 The tortured Huron, dying at the stake, 
 
 Dream'd of his green paths by his surging lake ; 
 Or captive maiden, from the hills of oak 
 And pine, blue Unikas, beneath the yoke, 
 
 Wept her rough play-grounds o'er, 
 Peaks, vales, and gushing springs, ne'er to be look'd on more. 
 
 And here, perhaps, when Boone 
 Stole from the dusky forest, and, at night, 
 
 Gazed on the sweeping river, here he kept 
 His lonely vigils pleasantly, or slept, 
 
298 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Dreaming the dream of home ; and woke with fright, 
 To conjure yells of Indians on the height, 
 
 From the nocturnal tune 
 Of boding owl or night-hawk, flitting in the moon. 
 
 Such scenes as these hast thou 
 Look'd on, old Sycamore ; but ne'er again 
 
 Shalt thou behold them ; — from the runlet bed 
 
 Beaver and bear, and lapping wolf are fled ; 
 The bison-path is empty, and the den 
 Of the hill-roaming elk, a place for men. 
 
 Up to thy blasted brow 
 I look with joy and pride, and ask, what seest thou now ? 
 
 Where is the Wilderness, 
 That once was wide around thee ? — aye, so broad, 
 
 That the keen vulture, o'er thee in the air, 
 
 Saw not its confines ? — Where the Indians ? — Where 
 The smoking cabin and the fresh turn'd sod ; 
 Wet with the blood the settler gave to God, — 
 
 His purchase and his cess, 
 For the Elysium lands his sons possess? 
 
 Up to thy cloud once more, 
 Keen vulture ! stretch the wing, and scale the sky ! 
 
 Where is the wilderness ? — adown the steeps 
 
 Eastern, the flood of emigration sweeps ; 
 On the North lakes a thousand squadrons ply ; 
 And o'er the Western prairies, where thine eye 
 
 Wearies, the smoke-drifts pour, — 
 Vain search ! vain thought ! — the Wilderness was but of yo*e 
 
 Of yore — for, sweetly seen 
 O'er the smooth tide, thy rotting boughs behold 
 
 The magic city, — wall and roof and spire, 
 
 Blazing in sunset, and their pictured fire 
 Glass'd in the river rolling on in gold, — 
 A scene of Heaven ! What seest thou, patriarch old. 
 
 That view'st the latest scene, — 
 Ohio sleeping at the footstool of his Queen ? 
 
 Enough ; — It is the last 
 Of all the changes ; and thy ruins grim, 
 
 But ill beseem the pageant smiling near. 
 
 Yet fall not ; lift thy mouldering hatchments sere, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 299 
 
 Still, for the musing passer. Every limb, 
 Plunged in the flood, shall tell its tale to him, 
 
 Better than trumpet-blast, — 
 Its legends of the wilderness, its story of the past. 
 
 EXERCISE XXIX. ADDRESS BEFORE THE SOCIETY OF ST. PAT- 
 KICK, — Earl Moira* 
 
 Spoken March Vtth, 1803, m (he prospect of a French invasion. 
 
 [An example of forcible and earnest declamation, — requiring 
 attention to spirited awl energetic utterance, throughout] 
 
 I do not mean to allude to the ordinary design of this 
 institution, oi that which so peculiarly recommends it as one 
 devoted to charitable purposes. There is something in the 
 present crisis of affairs, so awful ; and there is something in 
 the circumstances of this meeting so different from the ordi- 
 nary course, that it places all other considerations out of the 
 question. It is at a moment like this, that such a meeting is 
 likely to be productive of the most essential advantages. I 
 look, with sanguine expectations, to the effect which will be 
 produced, throughout Ireland, by the sentiments expressed 
 by a meeting so respectably constituted as this is. 
 
 I will say, then, let this meeting communicate the tone of 
 its sentiments to the people of Ireland. Although we can 
 come to no resolution, yet the sentiments we shall express 
 will be immediately felt throughout every part of Ireland. 
 I know that the words I utter will carry with them the force 
 and weight which the sanction of this meeting .can alone 
 impart. 
 
 It is, therefore, as the organ of this meeting, that I would 
 aay to the people of Ireland, — Regard the policy of those 
 whom I will not at present call our enemies ; but who cer- 
 tainly have endeavoured to throw a cloud over the prosperity 
 of the country. Reflect that the advantages, which they 
 have uniformly held out, have been founded upon the prin- 
 ciple of sowing the seeds of dissension among nations. I 
 will say to the people of Ireland, From what has passed, 
 dread the future. 
 
 I will say, what have any classes of you, in Ireland, to 
 hope from the French ? Is it your property you wish to 
 preserve ? — Look to the example of Holland ; and see how 
 that nation has preserved its property by an alliance with 
 the French ! Is it independence you court ? — Look to the 
 example of unhappy Switzerland j see to what a state of 
 
300 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 servile abasement that once manly territory has fallen, undei 
 France! — Is it to the establishment of catholicity that youi 
 hopes are directed? The conduct of the F 11 :>\, m 
 
 vrting the power and authority of the Pope-, arid culti- 
 vating the friendship of the Mussulman in Egypt, under a 
 : of that subversion, proves the fallacy of such a reli- 
 ance ! Is it civil liberty you require ? Look to Fr 
 itself, crouched under despotism, and groaning beneath a 
 sm of .slavery, unparalleled by whatever has disgraced or 
 insulted any nation ! 
 
 Is it possible, then, that any heart matured in the blessed 
 
 air of Ireland, can look to French protection for happir. 
 
 Is it possible there can be one head so organized as not to 
 
 the evidence of facts, for the last few years, that 
 
 the liberty which the French offer, is but another term far 
 
 tion and slavery? 
 
 I am not sounding the trumpet of war. There is no man 
 
 who more sincerely deprecates its calamities, than I do, — 
 
 soldier as I am, and ready to serve my country. Yet, if 
 
 lid force us to the conflict, I trust we shall 
 
 prove to the audacious foe, that British veins still glow with 
 
 the same blood which vivified the spirit of our ancestors ; 
 
 and that British I :ill burn with the same patriotic 
 
 ardour which actuated them in every former period of their 
 
 annals. 
 
 EXERCISE XXX. DIALOO ' THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 Speakers. — Roderick Dhu, Douglas, and Malcom Grame *—• 
 Positions. — Roderick, in the centre; Douglas, on his left; Malcom, 
 on his right. 
 
 [The chief use of d "3s elocution, is, to inspire 
 
 appropriate feeling, modulation, and action. The tones, in all dra- 
 matic piece.?, are ir: . than in the ",- of other 
 
 a of writing. AttiV; reciting dialogue, an im- 
 
 portant study, as a means of noiural and true effect; and manly, 
 spirited, and expressive gesture becomes indispensable to the same 
 result] 
 
 B,od. Short -'."'-• — nor time aflfo 
 
 Nor my plain" temper, giozing words. 
 Kinsman and father, if such name 
 Pougiaa vouchsafe to Roderick's claim, 
 
 • Pronounced Gtctm. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 30! 
 
 And Graeme, in whom I hope to know 
 Full soon a noble friend or foe, 
 When age shall give thee thy command, 
 And leading in thy native land, — 
 List both ! — The king's vindictive pride 
 • Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 
 "Where chiefs, with hound and hawk, who came 
 To share their monarch's sylvan game, 
 Themselves in bloody toils were snared ; 
 And when the banquet they prepared, 
 And wide their loyal portals flung, 
 O'er their own gate-way struggling hung. — 
 Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, 
 From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed, 
 Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, 
 And from the silver Teviot's side ; — 
 The dales, where martial c 7 ans did ride, 
 Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 
 This tyrant of the Scottish throne, — 
 So faithless, and so ruthless known, — 
 Now hither comes ; his end the same, 
 The same pretext of sylvan game. 
 What grace for Highland chiefs judge ye, 
 By fate of Border chivalry. 
 Yet more : amid Glenflnlas' green, 
 Douglas, thy stately form was seen. — 
 This by espial sure I know : 
 Your counsel, in the strait I show. 
 
 Doug. Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 
 It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 
 Xor will I here remain an hour, * 
 To draw the lightning on thy bower;" 
 For well thou know'st, at this gray head 
 The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 
 For thee, who, at thy king's command, 
 Canst aid him with a gallant band, 
 Submission, homage, humbled pride, 
 Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside. 
 Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 
 Ellen and I, will seek, apart, 
 The refuge of some forest cell ; 
 There like the hunted quarry, dwell, 
 Till on the mountain and the moor, 
 The stern pursuit be passed and o'er. 
 26 . 
 
302 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Rod. No, by mine honour, 
 
 So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 
 No, never ! Blasted be yon pine, 
 My father's ancient crest and mine, 
 If from its shade in danger part 
 The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 
 Hear my blunt speech ; grant me the maid 
 To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 
 To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, 
 Will friends and allies flock enow ;* 
 Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 
 Will bind to us each western chief. 
 When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 
 The Links of Forth shall hear the knell ; — 
 The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 
 And when { light the nuptial torch, 
 A thousand villages in flames, 
 Shall scare the slumbers of King James .— 
 I meant not all my heat might say : 
 Small need of inroad, or of fight, 
 When the sage Douglas may unite 
 Each mountain clan in friendly band, 
 To guard the passes of their land, 
 Till the foiled king, from pathless glen, 
 Shall bootless turn him home again. 
 
 Doug. Roderick, enough ! enough ! 
 
 My daughter cannot be thy bride : — 
 Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
 Will level a rebellious spear; 
 'T was I that taught his youthful hand 
 To rein a steed, and wield a brand. 
 I see him yet, the princely boy ! 
 Not Ellen more my pride and joy : 
 I love him still, despite my wrongs, 
 By hasty wrath, and slanderous tongues. 
 Oh ! seek the grace you well may find, 
 Without a cause to mine combined. 
 [Douglas retires to the left. Grceme moves to pass Roderick^ 
 arid follow Douglas. Roderick rushes forward, and thrmti 
 him back.] 
 
 Rod. Back, beardless boy ! 
 
 Back, minion ! Hold'st thou thus at naught 
 The lesson I so lately taught ? 
 
 # Pronounced Enoo. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 3l» 
 
 This roof, the Douglas, and yon maid, 
 Thank thou for punishment delayed. 
 
 Mai. Perish my name, if aught afford 
 
 Its chieftain safety, save his sword ! [ They draw.'] 
 
 Doug. [Returning and ^parting Roderick and Malcom ] 
 Chieftains, forego ! 
 
 I hold the first who strikes, my foe. — 
 Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 
 What ! is the Douglas fallen so far, 
 His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 
 Of such dishonourable broil ? 
 
 Rod. Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were 
 
 [ Sheaths his sword : Malcom does the same.] 
 Such cheek should feel the midnight air ! 
 Then may'st thou to James Stuart tell, 
 Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 
 Nor lackey, with his free-born clan, 
 The pageant pomp of earthly man. 
 More would he of Clan-Alpine know, 
 Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 
 Malise, what ho ! 
 [Enter Malise, who takes his place behind Grceme.] 
 Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme. 
 
 Mai. Fear nothing for thy favourite hold. 
 The spot, an angel deigned to grace, 
 Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place ; 
 Thy churlish courtesy for those 
 Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 
 As safe to me the mountain way, 
 At midnight, as in blaze of day ; 
 Though, with his boldest at his back, 
 Even Roderick Dhu beset the track. 
 Brave Douglas, — 
 Naught here of parting will I say. 
 Earth does not hold a lonesome glen, 
 So secret, but we meet agen. — 
 [To Rod.] 
 
 Chieftain ! — we too shall find an hour. 
 
 [ Touching his sword ] 
 
304 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XXXI. SPEECH ON THE GOVERNMENT OF INDIA. — FoZ 
 
 [The piece which follows, is introduced as an example of plain, 
 practical, parliamentary declamation, — in which no aid of inspiration 
 is derived from poetic passion, but only from the earnest feeling 
 associated with historic fact, and actual life. A clear, firm, and 
 manly utterance, and plain, unpretending, but forcible gesture, are 
 here the main elements of effect.] 
 
 The honourable gentleman who opened, the debate, charges 
 me with abandoning that cause, which he says, in terms of 
 flattery, I had once so successfully asserted. I tell him, in 
 reply, that if he were to search the history of my life, he 
 would find that the period of it, in which I struggled most 
 for the real, substantial cause of liberty, is this very moment 
 that I am addressing you. 
 
 Freedom, according to my conception of it, consists in the 
 safe and sacred possession of a man's property, governed by 
 laws defined and certain ; with many personal privileges, 
 civil and religious, which he cannot surrender without ruin 
 to himself ; and of which to be deprived by any other power, 
 is despotism. This bill, instead of subverting, is destined to 
 stabilitate these principles : instead of narrowing the basis of 
 freedom, it tends to enlarge it; instead of suppressing, its 
 object is to infuse and circulate the spirit of liberty. 
 
 What is the most odious species of tyranny ? Precisely 
 that which this bill is meant to annihilate. That a handful 
 of men, free themselves, should execute the most base and 
 abominable despotism over millions of their fellow-creatures ; 
 that innocence should be the victim of oppression ; that in- 
 dustry should toil for rapine ; that the harmless labourer 
 should sweat, not for his own benefit, but for the luxury and 
 rapacity of tyrannic depredation : — in a word, that thirty 
 millions of men, gifted by Providence with the ordinary 
 endowments of humanity, should groan under a system of 
 despotism, unmatched in all the histories of the world. 
 
 What is the end of all government ? Certainly the hap- 
 piness of the governed. ' Others may hold other opinions ; 
 but this is mine, and I proclaim it. What are we to think 
 of a government, whose good fortune is supposed to spring 
 from the calamities of its subjects ; whose aggrandizement 
 grows out of the miseries of mankind ! This is the kind of 
 government exercised under the East India Company upon 
 the natives of Hindostan ; and the subversion of that infa- 
 mous go^ srnment, is the main object of the bill in question. 
 
 But, in the progress of accomplishing this end, it is ob» 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 305 
 
 jected that the charter of the company should not he violated ; 
 and upon this point, sir, I shall deliver my opinion without 
 disguise. 
 
 A charter is a trust to one or more persons for some given 
 benefit. If this trust be abused, if the benefit be not obtained, 
 and its failure arise from palpable guilt, (or what, in this 
 case, is full as bad,) from palpable ignorance or mismanage- 
 ment, will any man gravely say, that trust should not be 
 resumed, and delivered to other hands, — more especially in 
 the case of the East India Company, whose manner of exe- 
 cuting this trust, whose laxity and languor produced, and 
 tend to produce, consequences diametrically opposite to the 
 ends of confiding that trust, and of the institution for which 
 it was granted ? 
 
 No man will tell me that a trust to a company of mer- 
 chants, stands upon the solemn and sanctified ground, by 
 which a trust is committed to a monarch ; and I am at a loss 
 to reconcile the conduct of men, who approve that resump- 
 tion of violated trust, which rescued and re-established our 
 unparalleled and admirable constitution, with a thousand 
 valuable improvements and advantages, at the revolution ; 
 and who, at this moment, rise up the champions of the East 
 India Company's charter; although the incapacity and in- 
 competence of that company to a due and adequate discharge 
 of the trust deposited in them by charter, are themes of 
 ridicule and contempt to all the world; and although, in con- 
 sequence of their mismanagement, connivance, and imbecility, 
 combined with the wickedness of their servants, the very 
 name of an Englishman is detested, even to a proverb, 
 through all Asia ; and the national character is become dis- 
 graced and dishonoured. 
 
 To rescue that name from odium, and redeem this charac- 
 ter from disgrace, are some of the objects of the present bill ; 
 and gentlemen should indeed gravely weigh their opposition 
 to a measure, which, with a thousand other points, not less 
 valuable, aims at the attainment of those objects. 
 26* 
 
306 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XXXII. LINES TO THE OLD CLOCK WITHOUT HANDS, AT 
 
 hampton court. — G. P. R. James. 
 
 [An example of the style of grave and serious sentiment. The 
 elocution of such pieces, is dependent, chiefly, on distinct and de- 
 liberate enunciation, true inflections, well marked emphasis, anAfull 
 pauses: the utterance is low and subdued. In recitation, the gesture 
 which accompanies the voice, must be chaste and simple, but not 
 feeble or monotonous.] 
 
 Memento of the gone-by hours, 
 
 Dost thou recall alone the past ? 
 Why stand'st thou silent, midst these towers, 
 
 Where time still flies so fast? 
 
 Where are the hands, in moments fled, 
 That marked those moments as they flew, 
 
 To generations of the dead, 
 
 Who turned on thee their view, 
 
 To watch and greet the appointed time 
 
 Of every empty dream of joy, 
 Or wait, in agony, the chime 
 
 •Which might such dreams destroy? 
 
 To thee the eager eye has turned, 
 
 Of pride, of policy, and power, 
 And Love's own longing heart has burned 
 
 To hear thee mark his hour. 
 
 Pleasure and pastime, grief and care, 
 
 Have heard thee chime some change of lot 
 
 While the dull ear of cold despair 
 Has heard, but marked thee not. 
 
 And thou art silent now, and still, 
 
 While round thy mystic dial runs ' 
 The legend of man's hours, — though ill 
 
 As thou, he marks the suns, — 
 
 Those rolling suns, — those rolling suns 
 
 Unchronicled by both go on ; 
 Though still each comments as it run* 
 
 Till man's brief day be done. 
 
 Man's heart 's too like thy face : on it 
 Records of passing hours may stand 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE, 307 
 
 But stand unmarked by movement fit, 
 By chimes or pointing hand. 
 
 dial ! art thou raised on high 
 
 To speak reproach for life's abuse ? 
 Or give to eager hope the lie ? 
 
 Or tell Time's future use ? 
 
 The future ? Thou hast nought to do 
 
 With it ! — The solemn past, alone, 
 Is that whereon thy comments go, 
 
 Fit grave-stone of hours gone ! 
 
 The future ? — Yes ! At least to me, 
 Thus, plainly thus, thy moral stands, — 
 
 " Good deeds mark hours ! Let not life be 
 A dial without hands ! " 
 
 EXERCISE XXXIII. AN UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPT TO R^ISE THB 
 
 wind. — Dickens. 
 
 Dialogue adapted from Martin Chuzzlewit. — Speakers, — Tigg, 
 Pecksniff, and Slyme.* Scene, — the bar-room of the Blue Dragon. 
 
 [Humorous dialogue demands attention to the full expression of 
 free, playful feeling, in voice and action. The motto of elocution 
 in such pieces is, as in youthful sports, ' Keep up the spirit of the 
 scene.'' The object of practice, in this form, is to impart ease and 
 animation to the speaker's general -manner.] 
 
 Tigg, [dragging in Pecksniff by the collar.'] You were 
 eavesdropping at that door, you vagabond ! 
 
 Peck, [shakiiig himself free.] Where is Mrs. Lupin, I 
 wonder ? Can the good woman possibly be aware that there 
 is a person here, who — 
 
 Tigg. Stay ! Wait a bit ! She does know. What then ? 
 
 Peck. What then, sir ? — What then ? — Do you know that 
 1 am the friend and relative of the sick gentleman above 
 stairs ? That I am his protector, his guardian, his — 
 
 Tigg. Wait a bit ! perhaps you are a cousin, — the cousin 
 who lives in this place. 
 
 * In appearance, Tigg represents the shabby genteel, in its last stage ; 
 Pecksniff, a smouth, well-dressed man, with a prodigious collar ; Slyme, 
 a miserable looking wretch, worn out with low dissipation. — Tigg's man- 
 ner is dashing, independent, and highly affected ; Pecksniff's grave and 
 cold, very much constrained ; Slyme's is dull and stupid, indicating par 
 tial inebriety. 
 
308 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Peck. I am the cousin who lives in this place. 
 
 Tigg. Your name is Pecksniff? 
 
 Peck. It is. 
 
 Tigg, {touching his hat.] I am proud to know you ; and 
 I ask your pardon. — You behold in me one who has also an 
 interest in that gentleman up stairs. — Wait a bit. [Pulling 
 off his hat, and dropping from it a handful of dirty letters, 
 and broken cigars ; and selecting one of the former, which he 
 hands to Pecksniff.] Eead that ! 
 
 Peck. This is addressed to Chevy Slyme, Esq. 
 
 Tigg. You know Chevy Slyme, Esq., I believe? — Very 
 good : that is my interest and business here. 
 
 Peck, [yoithdr awing from T.] Now, this is very distress- 
 ing, my friend. It is very distressing to me to be compelled 
 to say, that you are not the person you claim to be. I know 
 Mr. Slyme, my friend : this will not do : honesty is the best 
 policy : you had better not : you had, indeed. 
 
 Tigg. Stop ! Wait a bit ! — I understand your mistake ; 
 and I am not offended. Why ? Because it is complimen- 
 tary. You suppose I would set myself up for Chevy Slyme. 
 Sir, if there is a man on earth, whom a gentleman would 
 feel proud and honoured to be mistaken for, that man 13 
 Chevy Slyme. For he is, without an exception, the highest- 
 minded, the most independent-spirited ; most original, spirit- 
 ual, classical, talented ; and most thoroughly Shaksperian, — 
 if not Miltonic ; and, at the same time, most-disgustingly- 
 unappreciated dog I know. But, sir, I have not the vanity 
 to attempt to pass for Slyme. Any other man in the wide 
 world -I am equal to. But Slyme is, I frankly confess, a 
 great many cuts above me. Therefore you are wrong. 
 
 Peck, [holding out the letter.] I judged from this. 
 
 Tigg. No doubt you did. But, Mr. Pecksniff, the whole 
 thing resolves itself into an instance of the peculiarities of 
 genius. Every man of true genius has his peculiarity. 
 Sir, the peculiarity of my friend Slyme, is, that he is always 
 waiting round the corner. He is perpetually round the cor- 
 ner, sir. He is round the corner, at this instant. That is a 
 remarkably curious and interesting trait in Slyme's charac- 
 ter ; and whenever Slyme's life comes to be written, that 
 trait must be thoroughly worked out by his biographer ; or 
 society will not be satisfied, — observe me, — society will not 
 be satisfied. 
 
 Peck, [coughing nervously.] Hem ! 
 
 Tigg. Slyme's biographer, sir,, whoever he maybe, must 
 apply to me ; or, if I am gone to that what 's-his-name from 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 309 
 
 which no thingumbob comes back, he must apply to my 
 executors for leave to search among my papers. I have taken 
 a few notes, in my poor way, of some of that man's proceed- 
 ings, — my adopted brother, sir, — which would amaze you. 
 He made use of an expression, sir, only on the fifteenth of 
 last month,— when he could not meet a little bill, and the 
 other party would not renew, — which would have done 
 Jionour to Napoleon Bonaparte, in addressing the French 
 army. 
 
 Peck. And pray what may be Mr. Slyme's business here, 
 — if I may be permitted to inquire ? 
 
 Tigg. You will give me leave, sir, first to introduce my 
 self. My name, sir, is Tigg. The name of Montague Tigg 
 will perhaps be familiar to you, in connexion with the most 
 remarkable events of the peninsular war ? 
 
 Peck, [shakes his head.] 
 
 Tigg. No matter, — that man was my father, and I bear 
 his name. I am consequently proud, — proud as Lucifer. 
 Excuse me, one moment. I desire my friend Slyme to be 
 present at the remainder of this conference. [ Withdraws, 
 and returns, folloived by Slyme, who looks stupidly at Peck' 
 sniff, and Pecksniff looks coldly at him.~\ 
 
 Tigg, [pretending to address Slyme, — who has been whis- 
 pering in his ear, totcching his elboiv, and making other signs 
 to him to ask money of Pecksniff. T. speaks loud enough 
 for Mr. P. to hear.] Chiv, I shall come to that presently. 
 I act upon my own responsibility, or not at all. To the 
 extent of such a trifling loan as a crown-piece, to a man of 
 your talents, I look upon Mr. Pecksniff as certain. — Chiv, 
 Chiv ! You are, upon my life, a strange instance of the little 
 frailties that beset a mighty mind ! If there had never been 
 a telescope in this world, I should have been quite certain, 
 from my observation of you, that there were spots on the 
 sun ! Well, never -mind ! Moralize as we will, the world 
 goes on. As Hamlet says, Hercules may lay about him with 
 his club, in every possible direction ; but he can't prevent the 
 cats from making a most intolerable row on the roofs of the 
 houses, or the dogs from being shot, in the hot weather, if 
 they go about the streets unmuzzled. — Life 's a riddle, a most 
 confoundedly hard riddle to guess, Mr. Pecksniff. Like that 
 celebrated conundrum, ' Why's a man in jail like a man out 
 of jail?' — there's no answer to it. — Chiv, my dear fellow, go 
 out and see what sort of a night it is. [S. goes out. T. 
 turns to P.] We must not be too hard upon the little ec- 
 
310 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 °,en;ricities of our friend Slyme. — You saw him whisper 
 me? 
 
 Peck. I did. 
 
 Tigg. You heard my answer, I think. 
 
 Peck. I did. 
 
 Tigg. Five shillings, eh ? Ah ! what an extraordinary 
 fellow : — very moderate, too. Five shillings, to be punctually 
 paid, next week : that 's the best of it. — You heard that. 
 
 Peck. I did not. 
 
 Tigg. No ! That 's the cream of the thing, sir, I never 
 knew that man fail to redeem a promise in my life. You 're 
 not in want of change, are you ? 
 
 Peck. No, thank you, not at all ! 
 
 Tigg. Just so: if you had been, I'd have got it for you. 
 [ Whistles, and walks about ivith an air of unconcern.] Per- 
 haps you 'd rather not lend Slyme five shillings ? 
 
 Peck. I would much rather not. 
 
 Tigg. It's very possible you maybe right. Would you 
 entertain the same sort of objection to lending me five shil- 
 lings, now ? 
 
 Peck. Yes : I couldn't do it, indeed. 
 
 Tigg. Not even half-a-crown, perhaps? 
 
 Peck. Not even half-a-crown. 
 
 Tigg. Why, then we come to the ridiculously small sum 
 of eighteen-pence ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Peck. And that would be equally objectionable. 
 
 Tigg, [shaking P. by both hands.} Sir, I protest you are 
 one of the most consistent and remarkable men I have ever 
 met. I desire the honour of your better acquaintance. 
 There are many little characteristics about my friend Slyme, 
 of which, as a man of strict honour, I can by no means ap- 
 prove. But I am prepared to forgive him all these slight 
 drawbacks and many more, in consideration of the great 
 pleasure I have this day enjoyed in my social intercourse 
 with you, sir. It has given me a far higher and more endur- 
 ing delight, than the successful negotiation of any small 
 loan, on the part of my friend, could possibly have imparted. 
 I beg leave sir, to wish you a very good evening. [They gt 
 off different ivays.] 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 311 
 
 EXERCISE XXXIV. NIAGARA FALLS. AnonymOUS. 
 
 [The following vivid but chaste description of the great cataract, 
 furnishes a good example of descriptive expression. The tone deep- 
 ens and strengthens, as the picture heightens, till the narrative of 
 personal adventure is introduced, when it becomes more familiar 
 and lively. In the closing paragraph, the tone of sublimity and 
 nwe, — low, but strong, and slow, — returns, with increased effect, 
 anl reaches its maximum in the concluding lines.] 
 
 While yet at a distance of several miles, looking and lis- 
 tening, with intense eagerness, for some visible, or audible 
 indication of the local presence of this greatest natural won- 
 ler of our land, I first saw two neighbouring cones of dense, 
 rolling mist, of a peculiar hue, that appeared to undulate, to 
 swell and diminish, or to loom up and fall occasionally, as 
 the wind buoyed it up, or pressed it down. It looked like a 
 broad ascending rain shower, or inverted jet d' eau, as in 
 effect it is. 
 
 I could not withdraw my eyes from this lofty coronal of 
 rolling vapour. As I approached nearer to the spot, which 
 had led me to deviate so many hundred miles from the direct 
 course to my home, I beheld a strange agitation in the waters 
 of the broad and hitherto smooth current of the river, which 
 began to move with an increased rapidity. For a considera- 
 ble space, they spread out into a wider sheet, as if seeking, 
 on either shore, a way to escape from the slippery descent, 
 which grew every moment more steep. Unable to arrest 
 their onward progress, they are seized with trembling, and 
 break into foam. Like a man, who feels that he is sliding 
 towards a fearful and inevitable precipice, that - is to plunge 
 him into a fathomless abyss, they utter a voice, as of terror, 
 that waxes louder and louder, as their descent quickens, and 
 they approximate to their fall. 
 
 Again the width of the river narrows ; and they seem, like 
 the crew of a ship about to perish, to huddle together, as is 
 usual with a ship's company, when at the moment of going 
 down. The tumult and noise grow more violent and loud, 
 as they near the brink of the precipice, and the waters are 
 divided by Goat Island ; and they hurry on, the one part to 
 the right, and the other to the left, as if impatient to pass the 
 awful bourne, whence there is no return. Yet there is a 
 little space towards the edge, where they become smooth, 
 then, in a moment, are invested in a winding sheet of foam 
 of the purest white, and are precipitated down a perpendicu- 
 lar descent of one hundred and forty-eight feet, on the Can- 
 
312 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ada side, and, on the American, one hundred and sixty -four 
 feet. The tumultuous roar of the rapids, previous to their 
 descent, is drowned in the deep and solemn reverberation of 
 their fearful plunge into the depths below, — resembling, to 
 one on the brink above, the hollow sound of subterranean 
 thunder. 
 
 The mighty rush of the waters behind you, and the noise 
 of the boiling abyss beneath, as you look down over the edge 
 of the fearful precipice ; — the accumulated surplus waters of 
 the long chain of lakes to the far West, supplied from hun- 
 dreds of rivers and smaller streams, here converted into two 
 broad, white, perpendicular columns of foam, the one spread 
 out in the form of a crescent or horseshoe, six hundred yards 
 fronting towards the east and north, — the other, a beautiful 
 and regular convex curve, looking upwards and nearly con- 
 fronting the former towards the north and west, three hun- 
 dred yards" in width ; — between these a narrow and most 
 beautiful sheet, separated from the main one by an islet on 
 the American side of Goat Island, called the central fall ; — 
 the foam of the boiling abyss below, rebounding far into the 
 upper air, and falling in a continual shower of fine rain or 
 mist ; — when the sun shines, two or more rainbows, sus- 
 pended over the awful gulf, like the Christian's hope, that 
 gilds with rays, borrowed from the source of light, ' the pal- 
 pable obscure ' of the grave ; — the tranquil flow of the waters 
 after they have passed the gulf, resembling the composed 
 features of the shrouded sleeper, after having passed the 
 agony of dissolution ;— the perpendicular sides of the chan- 
 nel, nearly three hundred feet in height on either hand, 
 composed of regular strata of lime-stone, forming a magnifi- 
 cent mausoleum for the sleeping waters, resting from their 
 hurry and turmoil, previous to their burial here ; — the little 
 islet covered with evergreens, that cluster about the main 
 central island, which stands like a fast anchored ship of the 
 line, in the midst of a surrounding sea of foam and tumult, 
 having her convoy of small craft about her ; — the deep shade 
 and quiet in the midst of that island ; — the shrill cry of the 
 white gulls, that hover above the deep abyss, to catch the fish 
 that are killed by the dashing down of the torrent, when they 
 are carried over, or venture too near the base of the cat- 
 aract ; — that cry, mingling, like a sharp treble, with the 
 awful swell of the full, deep organ, that peals its everlasting 
 anthem to the praise of the Creator : — all these objects, fill- 
 ing to their utmost capacity the organs of vision and hearing, 
 form together an assemblage of the sublime, the awful, the 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 313 
 
 grand, the terrific, and the beautiful, which cannot be found 
 combined, with any approach to equality in any other spot 
 upon the earth. As has been often remarked, the spectacle 
 is unparalleled, indescribable, and unique. 
 
 The view which I have above essayed to give, combines 
 the greatest number of the most striking features of this 
 great spectacle ; yet it was not the view that I first took of it, 
 and which gave me the most vivid and profound impressions 
 of its grandeur. I had heard, or read, that it depended 
 much upon the point from which the first view and impres- 
 sion is taken, whether the visitor is disappointed or not ; and 
 to avoid all the lesser traits and impressions, I passed wide 
 from the parts above, and went with my eyes averted down 
 the ferry steps to a level with the water below, and then 
 looked upward : — the sublime height, the vast volume of 
 the foaming cataract, its plunge into the whirling depths 
 below, the deafening roar of the waters, and the trembling 
 of the ground on which I stood, impressed me with awe and. 
 wonder ; and 1 experienced, in a degree I had never felt 
 before, the emotion, described by rhetoricians, of the sublime 
 bordering upon terror. 1 then crept up a cone-shaped mass 
 of ice and snow, accumulated during the winter, to the height 
 of thirl j or forty feet, upon a rock that lies just at the edge 
 of the boiling cauldron, into which the headlong torrent 
 plunges, and looked down till I felt my brain begin to whirl 
 at the view of the frightful abyss, where 
 
 4 The tortured waters foam, and. hiss, and boil, 
 In endless agony.' 
 
 I retreated from my perilous position, which had not been 
 before attempted, I was told ; and which, as I afterwards 
 saw, was so undermined by the spray as to be in imminent 
 danger of falling. Once more upon the level and firm 
 ground, I stood in silent admiration and awe before the 
 stupendous cataract. I looked westward to the' broader sheet 
 of foam ; I heard it respond to the nearer thunder, where I 
 stood, ' deep calling unto deep,' one answering to the other 
 in everlasting response ; and my thoughts were of the great- 
 oess and majesty of God. 
 
 27 
 
314 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XXXV. SOUTH CAROLINA. HdyMS. 
 
 [Animated and impressive declamation, — as in the following 
 examples, — requires close attention to vivid tone, effective emphasis, 
 and earnest, impressive action.] 
 
 If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President, — and I 
 say it not in a boastful spirit, — that may challenge compari- 
 son with any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, uncalcu- 
 lating devotion to the Union, that State is South Carolina. 
 
 Sir, from the very commencement of the revolution, up to 
 this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she has not 
 cheerfully made ; no service she has hesitated to perform. 
 She has adhered to you, in your prosperity ; but, in your 
 adversity, she has clung to you, with more than filial affec- 
 tion. 
 
 No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs, 
 though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or sur- 
 rounded with difficulties, the call of the country has been to 
 her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the 
 sound ; — every man became at once reconciled to his breth- 
 ren ; and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding 
 together to the temple, bringing their gift to the altar of their 
 common country. 
 
 What, Sir, was the conduct of the South, during the rev- 
 olution? Sir, I honour New England for her conduct in 
 that glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which 
 belongs to her, I think, at least, equal honour is due to the 
 South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren, with 
 a generous zeal, which did not suffer them to stop to calcu- 
 late their interests in the dispute. 
 
 Favourites of the mother country, possessed of neither 
 ships nor seamen, to create a commercial relationship, they 
 might have found in their situation, a guarantee that their 
 trade would be forever fostered and protected by Great Brit- 
 ain. But, trampling on all consideration, either of interest 
 or of safety, they rushed into the conflict ; and fighting for 
 principle, perilled all in the sacred cause of freedom. 
 
 Never were there exhibited in the history of the world, 
 higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and 
 heroic endurance than by the whigs of Carolina during the 
 revolution. The whole State, from the mountains to the 
 sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. 
 The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were 
 produced, or were consumed by the foe. The ' plains of 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 315 
 
 Carolina' drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. 
 Black and smoking ruins marked the places which had been 
 the habitations of her children ! 
 
 Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost 
 impenetrable swamps, — even there the spirit of liberty sur- 
 vived ; and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her 
 Sumpters and her Marions, proved by her conduct that 
 though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people 
 was invincible ! 
 
 EXERCISE XXXVI. NEW ENGLAND. Cusking. 
 
 [See remarks introductory to exercise xxxv.] 
 
 The gentleman from South Carolina taunts us with count- 
 ing the costs of that war in which the liberties and honour 
 of the country, and the interests of the North, as he asserts, 
 were forced to go elsewhere for their defence. Will he sit 
 down with me and count the cost now ? Will he reckon up 
 how much of treasure the State of South Carolina expended 
 in that war, and how much the State of Massachusetts ? — 
 how much of the blood of either State was poured out on sea 
 or land ? I challenge the gentleman to the test of patriotism, 
 which the army roll, the navy lists, and the treasury books, 
 afford. 
 
 Sir, they who revile us for our opposition to the last war, 
 have looked only to the surface of things. They little know 
 the extremities of suffering, which the people of Massachu- 
 setts bore at that period, out of attachment to the Union, — 
 their families beggared, their fathers and sons bleeding in 
 camps, or pining in foreign prisons. They forget that not 
 a field was marshalled on this side of the mountains, in 
 which the men of Massachusetts did not play their part, as 
 became their sires, and their ' blood fetched from mettle of 
 war proof.' They battled and bled, wherever battle was 
 fought or blood drawn. 
 
 Nor only by land. I ask the gentleman, Who fought your 
 naval battles in the last war ? Who led you on to victory 
 after victory, on the ocean and the lakes ? Whose was the 
 triumphant prowess before which the Red Cross of England 
 paled with unwonted shames ? Were they not men of New 
 England? Were these not foremost in those maritime 
 encounters which humbled the pride and power of Great 
 Britain ? 
 
 I appeal to my colleague before me from our common 
 
316 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 county of brave old Essex, — I appeal to my respected col- 
 leagues from the shores of the Old Colony. Was there a vil- 
 lage or a hamlet on Massachusetts Bay, which did not gather 
 its hardy seamen to man the gun-decks of your ships of war ? 
 Did they not rally to the battle, as men flock to a feast ? 
 
 In conclusion, I beseech the House to pardon me, if I may 
 have kindled, on this subject, into something of unseemly 
 ardour. I cannot sit tamely by, in humble acquiescent 
 silence, when reflections, which I know to be unjust, are cast 
 on the faith and honour of Massachusetts. 
 
 Had I suffered them to pass without admonition, I should 
 have deemed that the disembodied spirits of her departed 
 children, from their ashes mingled with the dust of every 
 stricken field of the revolution, — from their bones moulder- 
 ing to the consecrated earth of Bunker's Hill, of Saratoga, 
 of Monmouth, would start up in visible shape before me, to 
 cry shame on me, their recreant countryman. 
 
 Sir, I have roamed through the world, to find hearts no- 
 where warmer than hers, soldiers nowhere braver, patriots 
 nowhere purer, wives and mothers nowhere truer, maidens 
 nowhere lovelier, green valleys and bright rivers nowhere 
 greener or brighter ; and I will not be silent, when I hear 
 her patriotism or her truth questioned with so much as a 
 whisper of detraction. Living, I will defend her ; dying, I 
 would pause in my last expiring breath, to utter a prayer of 
 fond remembrance for my native New England. 
 
 exercise xxxvu. — noon. — Bryant. 
 
 [The beautiful and profound repose, described in the following 
 lines, should be carefully preserved in a low, subdued, and slow 
 utterance, with lengthened pauses. But while the stillness of the 
 scene is maintained, in the gentleness of the tone, the voice should 
 never flatten into insipidity , feebleness , or monotony.] 
 
 'T is noon. — At noon the Hebrew' bowed the knee, 
 And worshipped, while the husbandman withdrew 
 From the scorched field, and the wayfaring man 
 Grew faint, and turned aside by bubbling fount, 
 Or rested in the shadow of the palm. 
 
 I, too, amid the overflow of day 
 Behold the power which wields and cherishes 
 The frame of Nature. From this brow of rock 
 That overlooks the Hudson's western marge, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 317 
 
 I gaze on the long array of groves, 
 
 The piles and gulfs of verdure, drinking in 
 
 The grateful hears. They love the fiery sun ; 
 
 Their broadening leaves glow glossier, and their sprays 
 
 Climb, as he looks upon them. In the midst, 
 
 The swelling river into his green gulfs. 
 
 Unshadowed, save by passive sails above, 
 
 Takes the redundant glory, and enjoys 
 
 The summer in his chilly bed. Coy flowers, 
 
 That would not open in the early light, 
 
 Push back their plaited sheaths. The rivulet's pool, 
 
 That darkly quivered, all the morning long, 
 
 In the cool shade, now glimmers in the sun, 
 
 And o'er its surface shoots, and shoots again, 
 
 The glittering dragon-fly, and deep within 
 
 Run the brown water-beetles to and fro. 
 
 A silence, — the* brief sabbath of an hour, — 
 Reigns o'er the fields ; the labourer sits within 
 His dwelling ; he has left his steers awhile, 
 Unyoked, to bite the herbage ; and his dog 
 Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone, in the shade. 
 Now the gray marmot, with uplifted paws, 
 No more sits listening by his den, but steals 
 Abroad, in safety, to the clover field, 
 And crops its juicy blossoms. All the while, 
 A ceaseless murmur from the populous town, 
 Swells o'er these solitudes ; a mingled sound 
 Of jarring wheels, and iron hoofs that clash 
 Upon the stony ways, and hammer clang, 
 And creak of engines lifting ponderous bulks, 
 And calls and cries, and tread of eager feet 
 Innumerable, hurrying to and fro. 
 Noon, in that mighty mart of nations, brings 
 No pause to toil and" caro ; with early day 
 Began the tumult, and shall only cease 
 When midnight, hushing, one by one, the sounds 
 Of bustle, gathers the tired brood to rest. 
 
 Thus, in this feverish time, when love of gain 
 And luxury possess the hearts of men, 
 Thus is it with the noon of human life. 
 We in our fervid manhood, in our strength 
 Of reason, we. with hurry, noise and care. 
 Plan, toil, and strive, and pause not to refresh 
 
318 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Our spirits with the calm and beautiful 
 Of God's harmonious universe, that won 
 Our youthful wonder, — pause not to inquire 
 Why we are here, and what the reverence 
 Man owes to man, and what the mystery 
 That links us to the greater world, beside 
 Whose borders we but hover for a space. 
 
 exercise xxxviii. — success in life. — Anonymous. 
 
 [An example of serious, didactic style, and plain, practical dts~ 
 course. The reading requires attention to clear, distinct enunciation, 
 appropriate inflection, impressive emphasis, and deliberate pauses ; the 
 modulation is, properly, reserved. Passages of this description, 
 though not so inviting to the fancy, as those of a livelier character, 
 form the substance of instructive reading ; and a perfect command 
 of this style is, therefore, a matter of great moment.] 
 
 It is a source of regret, that many young men entertain 
 the idea, that individual advancement in life, depends as 
 much on what is commonly called good fortune, luck, — 
 chance, as on perseveringly following out correct precon- 
 ceived principles of action. This mistake in worldly ethics 
 has been fatal to the prosperity of thousands. It deters 
 enthusiastic genius from soaring in her flights ; it hinders 
 ordinary and industrious minds from untiringly following 
 out their well approved plans ; it affords temptation to the 
 undecided to relax in their efforts ; and, — worst of all, — 
 it presents a plausible excuse for the inexcusable failures of 
 the indolent and the vicious. 
 
 We will not venture unqualifiedly to assert, with Goethe, 
 that ' every man has his own fortune in his own hands, as 
 the artist has a piece of rude matter, which he is to fashion 
 to a certain shape ;' but assuredly experience demonstrates, 
 beyond the possibility of a doubt, that more, — very much 
 more, — of success or failure, depends on the individual him- 
 self, than the world at large appear willing to believe. And 
 if we wish to turn that world to our purposes, how other- 
 wise can we learn its tendencies, than by carefully studying 
 its features, its modes of action, and its current thoughts ? 
 
 Man can never be understood by being analyzed in the 
 secluded cloister, or the world's tide be -estimated by abstract 
 calculations, deduced from the pages of philosophy. To 
 know the world, we must be of the world ; there must gen- 
 uine experience be gathered; and little can it be doubted 
 that one year's active intercourse with ' the busy hum of merii 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 319 
 
 will do more to cultivate those qualities which promote suc- 
 cess in life, than a quarter of a century of abstract study 
 and laborious thought. Well has the physically darkened, 
 but mentally illuminated Milton written : — 
 
 " Not to know at large of things remote 
 From use and subtle, but to know 
 That which before us lies in daily life, 
 Is the prime wisdom." 
 
 It should be ever borne in mind, that suecess in life is not 
 regarded by the wise man as an end, but as a means of hap- 
 piness. The greatest and most continued favours of fortune, 
 cannot, in themselves, make an individual happy; nor can 
 the deprivation of them render altogether miserable, the 
 possessor of a clear conscience, and a well constituted mind. 
 The sum of human enjoyment is not, cannot be, derivabls 
 from one source ; — many circumstances must contribute to it. 
 
 " One principal reason," remarks Bentham, " why our 
 existence has so much less of happiness crowded into it, 
 than is accessible to us., is, that we neglect to gather up those 
 minute particles of pleasure, which every moment offers to 
 our acceptance. In striving after a sum total, we forget the 
 ciphers of which it is composed ; struggling against inevi- 
 table results which we cannot control, too often man is heed- 
 less of those accessible pleasures whose amount is by no 
 means inconsiderable when collected together. Stretching 
 out his hand to catch the stars, he forgets the flowers at his 
 feet, so beautiful, so fragrant, so various, so multitudinous." 
 
 In conclusion, another most fertile source q{ human dis- 
 appointment, arises from having entertained views of life 
 altogether incompatible with the imperfect character of human 
 nature, or the declared end of our probationary residence on 
 this earthly planet. " What is it," inquires Goethe, " that 
 keeps men in continual discontent and agitation ? It is that 
 they cannot make realities correspond with their conceptions . 
 that enjoyment steals away from their hands ; that the wished 
 for comes too late, and nothing reached or acquired, produces, 
 on the heart, the effect which their longing for it, at a dis« 
 fcaiuce, led them to anticipate." 
 
 \ 
 
320 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XXXIX. THE PAST. SpTdgUe. 
 
 From the Ode pronounced at the Centennial Celebration of the Settle- 
 ment of Boston, 1830. 
 
 [Lyric verse imparts peculiar intensity to tone, and vividness ta 
 modulation.] 
 
 Peace to the mingling dead ! — 
 Beneath the turf we tread, 
 
 Chief, Pilgrim, Patriot, sleep; — 
 All gone ! — How changed ! and yet the same 
 As when Faith's herald-bark* first came 
 In sorrow o'er the deep. 
 Still from his noonday height 
 The sun looks down in light, 
 Along the trackless realms of space 
 The stars still run their midnight race ; 
 The same green valleys smile ; the same rough shore 
 Still echoes to the same wild ocean's roar ; 
 
 But where the bristling night-wolf sprang' 
 
 Upon his startled prey, 
 Where the fierce Indian's war-cry rang, 
 
 Through many a bloody fray, 
 And where the stern old pilgrim prayed 
 
 In solitude and gloom, 
 Where the bold Patriot drew his blade, 
 And dared a patriot's doom, — 
 Behold ! in liberty's unclouded blaze 
 We lift our heads, a race of other days. 
 
 All gone ! — The wild beast's lair is trodden out, 
 Proud temples stand in beauty there ; 
 Our children raise their merry shout, 
 Where once the death-whoop vexed the air ; 
 
 The Pilgrim ! — seek yon ancient place of graves, 
 Beneath that chapel's holy shade : 
 Ask, where the breeze the long grass waves, 
 Who, who, within that spot are laid ; — 
 
 The Patriot ! — go, to Fame's proud mount repair j— 
 The tardy pile, slow rising there, 
 With tongueless eloquence shall tell 
 Of those who for their country fell. 
 
 All gone ! — 'Tis ours, the goodly land, — 
 
 * The Mayflower. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 321 
 
 Look round, — the heritage behold ; 
 Go forth, — upon the mountains stand, 
 Then, if ye can, be cold. — 
 See living vales by living waters blessed ; 
 
 Their wealth see earth's dark caverns yield, 
 See ocean roll, in glory dressed, — 
 For all a treasure, and round all a shield. 
 Hark to the shouts of praise 
 Rejoicing millions raise ! 
 Gaze on the spires that rise 
 To point them to the skies, 
 'Unfearing and unfeared ; 
 Then, if ye can, Oh ! then forget 
 To whom ye owe the sacred debt, — 
 
 The pilgrim race revered ! 
 The men who set Faith's burning lights 
 Upon these everlasting heights, 
 To guide their children through the years of time ; 
 The men that glorious law who taught, — 
 Unshrinking liberty of thought, — 
 And roused the nations with the truth sublime. 
 
 EXERCISE XL. THE LAWYER AND THE POLITICIAN. Murphy. 
 
 Speakers, — Quidnunc* and Codicil. ■f 
 
 [The remarks introductory to exercise xxxiii. are applicable 
 here. The following dialogue is intended as an exercise for stu- 
 dents at academies. — The Latin words introduced should be spoken 
 with all the assumed dignity of pedantry.] 
 
 Cod. Mr. Quidnunc, your servant. The door was open ; 
 and I entered upon the premises : — I'm just come from the 
 hall. 
 
 Quid. 'Sbodkins, this man has now come to keep me at 
 home. [Aside.] 
 
 Cod. Mr. Quidnunc, I am instructed to expound the law 
 to you. 
 
 Quid. What, the law of nations ? 
 
 Cod. I am instructed, Sir, that you're a bankrupt. — Quasi 
 lancus rwptus — banque route faire. — And my instructions 
 say further, that you are summoned to appear before the 
 commissioners to-morrow. 
 
 Quid. That may be, sir ; but I can't go to-morrow ; and 
 so I shall send them word. I am to be to-morrow at Slaugh- 
 
 * A crazed newspaper politician an4 a bankrupt - f A pedantic lawyer. 
 
322 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ter's CofFee House, with a private committee, about business 
 of great consequence in the affairs of Europe. 
 
 Cod. Then, sir, if you don't go, I must instruct you that 
 you will be guilty of a felony : it will be deemed to be done 
 malo animo — it is held so in the books ; and what says the 
 statute? By the 5th Geo. II. chap. 30, not surrendering, or 
 embezzling, is felony, without benefit of clergy. 
 
 Quid Ay, you tell me. news — 
 
 Cod. Give me leave, sir, — I am instructed to expound the 
 law to you. — Felony is thus described in the books. — Felonia, 
 saith Hotoman, (De Verbis Feudalibus,) significat capitate 
 facinus, — a capital offence. 
 
 Quid. You tell me news ; you do indeed ! 
 
 Cod. It was so apprehended by the Goths and the Long- 
 bards. And what saith Sir Edward Coke ? Fieri debeat 
 felleo animo. 
 
 Quid. You 've told me news : — I did not know it was fel- 
 ony ! But if the Flanders mail should come in, while I 'm 
 there, I should know nothing at all of it. 
 
 Cod. But why should you be uneasy ? cui bono, Mr. Quid- 
 nunc, cui bono ? 
 
 Quid. Not uneasy ! if the papists should beat the protes- 
 tants? 
 
 Cod. But I tell you, they can get no advantage of us. 
 The laws against the further growth of popery will secure 
 us ; there are provisos in favour of protestant purchasers 
 under papists. — 10th Geo. I. chap. 4, and 6th Geo. II. 
 chap. 5. 
 
 Quid. Ay! 
 
 Cod. And besides, popish recusants can't carry arms; so 
 can have no right of conquest, vi et armis. 
 
 Quid. That's true, that's true. I am easier in my mind — 
 
 Cod. To be sure, what are you uneasy about ? The papists 
 can have no claim to Silesia. 
 
 Quid. Can't they ? 
 
 Cod. No, they can set up no claim — if the queen, on her 
 marriage, had put all her lands into Hotchpot; then, indeed, 
 — and it seemeth, saith Littleton, that this word Hotchpot is, 
 in English, a pudding — 
 
 Quid. You reason very clearly, Mr. Codicil, upon the 
 rights of the powers of war; and so now, if you will, I am 
 ready to talk a little of my affairs. 
 
 Cod. Nor does the matter rest here ; for how can she set 
 up a claim, when she has made a conveyance to the house 
 of Brandenburg ? The law, Mr. Quidnunc, is very severe 
 
FIECES FOR PRACTICE. 323 
 
 against fraudulent conveyances. [Codicil goes on quite inat- 
 tentive to Quidnunc, toko becomes very i?n patient*} 
 
 Quid. 'Sbodkins ! you have satisfied me : — 
 
 Cod. Why, therefore, then, if he will levy fines, and suffer 
 a common recovery, he can bequeath it as he likes, in feodum 
 simplex, provided he takes care to put in his sis keres. 
 
 Quid. I am heartily glad of it :< — so that with regard to 
 my effects — 
 
 Cod. Why, then, suppose she was to bring it to a trial at 
 bar — 
 
 Quid, I say, with regard to the full disclosure of my 
 effects — 
 
 Cod. What would she get by that ? it would go off upon a 
 special pleading ; and as to equity — 
 
 Quid. Pray, must I, now, surrender my books and my 
 pamphlets ? 
 
 Cod. What would equity do for her ? Equity can't relieve 
 her ; he might keep her at least twenty years before a mas- 
 ter, to settle the account, — 
 
 Quid. You have made me easy about the protestants in 
 this war, you have, indeed. So that, with regard to my 
 appearing before the commissioners — 
 
 Cod. And as to the ban of the empire, he may demur to 
 that : for all tenures by knight service are abolished, and the 
 statute 12, Charles II., has declared all lands to be held under 
 a common socage. 
 
 Quid. Pray now, Mr. Codicil, must not my creditors appear 
 to prove my debts ? 
 
 Cod. Why, therefore, then, if they 're held in common soc- 
 age, I submit it to the court, whether the empire can have 
 any claim to knight service. They can't call on him for a 
 single man for the wars — unum hominem ad guerram. — For 
 what is common socage ? — socagium idem est quod servitium 
 soccae, — the service of the plough. 
 
 Quid. I'm ready to attend to them. — But, pray, now when 
 my certificate is signed — it is of great consequence to me to 
 know this, — I say, sir, when my certificate is signed, may n't 
 I then, — Hey ! [starting up and listening,] Hey ! what do I 
 hear? 
 
 Cod. I apprehend, I humbly conceive, when your certifi- 
 cate is signed — 
 
 Quid. Hold your tongue : — did I not hear the Gazette ? 
 
 Newsman, [without.] Great news in the London Gazette ! 
 
 Quid. Yes, yes it is, — it is the Gazette, — it is the Gazette ! 
 
 Cod. The law, in that case, Mr. Quidnunc, prima facie,— - 
 
324 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Quid. I can't hear you, — I have not time. [Attempts ta 
 pass.] 
 
 Cod. I say, sir, it is held in the books, — 
 
 Quid. I care for no books; I want the Gazette. [Stamp- 
 ing with impatience.] 
 
 Cod. Throughout all the books, — [Quid, rushes out.] Bo I 
 the man's non compos; and his friends, instead of a com- 
 mission of bankruptcy, should take out a commission of 
 lunacy. 
 
 EXERCISE XLI. — SONNET TO AN AGED BEGGAR. Coleridge. 
 
 [An example of the softened tone of tenderness and compassion , 
 pitch high; rate slow.] 
 
 Sweet Mercy ! how my very heart has bled 
 
 To see thee, poor old man ! and thy gray hairs, 
 
 Hoar with the snowy blast : while no one cares 
 
 To clothe thy shrivelled limbs and palsied head. 
 
 My father ! throw away this tattered vest, 
 
 That mocks thee shivering ! Take my garment, — use 
 
 A young man's arm. I'll melt these frozen dews, 
 
 That hang from thy white beard, and numb thy breast. 
 
 My Sara too shall tend thee, like a child : 
 
 And thou shalt talk, in our fireside's recess, 
 
 Of purple pride, that scouts on wretchedness. 
 
 — He did not so, the Galilean mild, 
 
 "Who met the lazars turned from rich men's doors, 
 
 And called them friends, and healed their noisome sores ! 
 
 EXERCISE XLII. SONNET TO LAFAYETTE IN THE DUNGEON OF 
 
 olmutz. — Coleridge. 
 
 [An example, in the first part, of pathos and softened tone, — in 
 the latter part, of gratulation and joy, requiring a full and swelling 
 tone, as in exultation.] 
 
 As when, far off, the warbled strains are heard, 
 That soar on morning's wing the vales among, 
 Within his cage, the imprisoned matin bird 
 Swells the full chorus with a generous song, — 
 He bathes no pinion in the dewy light, — 
 No father's joy, no lover's bliss he shares, — 
 Yet still the rising radiance cheers his sight, — 
 His fellows' freedom soothes the captive's cares ; — 
 Thou, Fayette ! who didst wake, with startling vpiee, 
 Life's better sun from that long wintiy night, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. s 325 
 
 Thus in thy country's triumphs shalt rejoice, 
 
 And mock, with raptures high, the dungeon's night: 
 
 For lo ! the morning struggles into day ; 
 
 And slavery's spectres shriek, and vanish from the ray ! 
 
 EXERCISE XLI1I. NATIONAL GREATNESS. Ckanning. 
 
 [Grave and earnest declamation, — as in the following impressive 
 example, — preserves a low pitch, a firm and forcible tone, a deliber" 
 ate slowness, with dignity of expression, in voice and action.] 
 
 I feel, as I doubt not many feel, that the great distinction 
 of a nation, — the only one worth possessing, and which brings 
 after it all other blessings, — is the prevalence of pure princi- 
 ple among the citizens. I wish to belong to a state, in the 
 character and institutions of which, I may find a spring of 
 improvement, which I can speak of with an honest pride ; 
 in whose records I may meet great and honoured names, and 
 which is fast making the world its debtor by its discoveries 
 of truth, and by an example of virtuous freedom. 
 
 Oh ! save me from a country which worships wealth, and 
 cares not for true glory ; in which intrigue bears rule ; in 
 which patriotism borrows its zeal from the prospect of office ; 
 in which hungry sycophants throng with supplication all 
 the departments of state ; in which public men bear the brand 
 of private vice, and the seat of government is a noisome sink 
 of private licentiousness and public corruption. 
 
 Tell me not of the honour of belonging to a free country. 
 I ask, does our liberty bear generous fruits? Does it exalt 
 us in manly spirit, in public virtue, above countries trodden 
 under foot by despotism? — Tell me not of the extent of our 
 country. I care not how large it is, if it multiply degenerate 
 men. Speak not of our prosperity. Better be one of a poor 
 people, plain in manners, reverencing God, and respecting 
 themselves, than belong to a rich country, which knows no 
 higher good than riches. 
 
 Earnestly do I desire for this country, that, instead of 
 copying Europe, with an undiscerning servility, it may have 
 a character of its own, corresponding to the freedom and 
 equality of our institutions. 
 
 One Europe is enough. One Paris is enough. How 
 much to be desired is it, that separated, as we are, from the 
 eastern continent, by an ocean, we should be still more widely 
 separated by simplicity of manners, by domestic purity, by 
 inward piety, by reverence for human nature, by moral inde- 
 pendence, by withstanding the subjection to fashion, and that 
 28 
 
326 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 debilitating sensuality which characterize the most civilized 
 portions of the old world. — Of this country, I may say with 
 peculiar emphasis, that its happiness is bound up in its 
 virtue. 
 
 EXERCISE XLIV. MANUFACTURES AND COMMERCE, CONTRASTED 
 
 with chivalry. — St. Leger. 
 
 [An example of narrative interspersed with sentiment. The 
 change of tone, in passing from the former to the latter, is the chief 
 object in view, in the following- extract, as furnishing scope for well 
 marked modulation. The Jtarrative tone is higher, lighter, and live- 
 Iter, — the didaciic, grave, firm, and deliberate.'] 
 
 . In the middle ages, the Levant and the Netherlands were 
 indisputably the two great marts of natural and created riches ; 
 and whether the spices came from Bruges, or the cloths 
 from Damascus, was a matter of sovereign indifference to the 
 baron- of those times, provided always that they passed within 
 reachable distance for him either to seize or ransom. I have 
 often wandered how commerce could continue to exist while 
 so little security was afforded to the merchant. But it would 
 seem that there was a general feeling, even in those rude 
 times, that it would not do to annihilate traffic altogether; 
 from which sprang, I doubt not, that system of ransom which 
 the trader placed to his general account, if not of outlay, at 
 least of risk, and advanced the price of his goods accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 The Flemish towns of the middle ages gave rise and dig- 
 nity, among the Transalpines, to the commercial spirit. The 
 northern parts of Europe owe to them, even surrounded as 
 they were by all the rapine and ignorance of the feudal 
 barons, the existence of the useful arts, and the cultivation 
 of a free spirit. Bruges, and Ghent, and Brussels, and other 
 towns of the Low Countries, were the most advanced of any 
 portion of Europe north of the Alps. 
 
 While England and France were spreading and enjoying 
 the advantages of 'those monstrous mummeries of the mid- 
 dle ages,' chivalry, and the feudal system, the trading towns 
 of the Low Countries and of Italy, were advancing in all the 
 arts of cultivated life, — of intellectual superiority, — of phy- 
 sical comfort. Had it not been for them, we might still have 
 been wrapped in our own untanned skins, with rushes and 
 filth struggling for predominance on our floors, and the dis- 
 eases incident upon dirt and rude living paying us a visit 
 almost every year. Let it never be forgotten that to the 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 327 
 
 burghers of these towns we owe the art of printing", — the 
 revival of painting, — :he discovery of the mariner's compass, 
 
 with all its attendant train of benefits. — a New World, and 
 the passage, by sea, to the East. These we owe to the tra- 
 ders of Flanders, and of the Italian cities. 
 
 For what are we to thank the feudal barons of France and 
 England ? Ignorance, craft, cruelty, and superstition, were 
 all the seed they sowed: and the crop was proportionally bar- 
 ren. They produced, however, a great number of very respec- 
 table ' robbers and pvllers.' fellows whose merit consisted in 
 the bullying bravery of highwaymen, combined with some- 
 thing less than the honesty of a modern pickpocket. Igno- 
 rant and barbarous themselves, they seized 'routes of mules,' 
 laden with the produce of other people's skill and industry; 
 and these are the sort -of men whom we are told to admire, 
 duly despising the race who did no more for humanity than 
 to confer on it all that we at this day consider as giving to it 
 value, and refinement, and beauty. It is not too much to say 
 that we owe all these to the merchants of Bruges and Ven- 
 ice, of Ghent and of Genoa, of Brussels and of Florence. 
 As for the knights and barons, they could neither read nor 
 write; they could only give and receive dry blows, and foul 
 language. 
 
 EXERCISE XLV. AXDIAL HAPPINESS. CowpCV. 
 
 [Description, interspersed with reflection, requires — as in the fol- 
 lowing example. — attention to change of tone, as the reader passes 
 from the one to the other : the former marked by the moderate 
 force, middle pitch, and lively rate, — the latter, by softer, but^rarer, 
 and slower utterance.] 
 
 Here."* unmolested, — through whatever sign 
 The sun proceeds. — I wander. Neither mist. 
 Nor freezing sky, nor sultry, checking me; 
 Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy. 
 Even in the spring and playtime of the year, 
 That calls the unwonted villager abroad. 
 With all her little ones, — a sportive train, — 
 To gather kingcups, in the yellow mead, 
 Arfd prink their hair with daisies, or to pick 
 A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook,- - 
 These shades are all my own. The timorous hare,— 
 Grown so familiar with her frequent guest, — 
 
 * Keierrmg to a shady walk, a favourite resort of the poet. 
 
328 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Scarce shuns me ; and the stockdove, unalarm'd, 
 
 Sits cooing in the pine tree, nor suspends 
 
 His long love-ditty, for my near approach. 
 
 Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm, 
 
 That age or injury has hollow'd deep, 
 
 Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves, 
 
 He has outslept the winter, ventures forth 
 
 To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, 
 
 The squirrel, — flippant, pert and full of play : 
 
 He sees me, and, at once, swift as a bird, 
 
 Ascends the neighbouring beech; there whisks his brush, 
 
 And perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud, 
 
 With all the prettiness of feigned alarm, 
 
 And anger insignificantly fierce. 
 
 The heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 To love and friendship both, that is not pleased 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 Nor feels their happiness augment his own. 
 The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade/ 
 When none pursues, — through mere delight of heart, 
 And spirits buoyant with excess of glee ; 
 The horse, as wanton and almost as fleet, 
 That skims the spacious meadow, at full speed, 
 Then stops and snorts, and throwing high his heels. 
 Starts to the voluntary race again ; 
 The very kine, that gambol at high noon, 
 The total herd, receiving, first, from one 
 That leads the dance, a summons to be gay, 
 Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth 
 Their efforts, yet resolved, with one consent, 
 To give such act and utterance as they may 
 To ecstacy too big to be suppress'd : — 
 These and a thousand images of bliss, 
 With which kind Nature graces every scene. 
 Where cruel man defeats not her design, 
 Impart to the benevolent, — who wish 
 All that are capable of pleasure pleased,— 
 A far superior happiness to theirs, — 
 The comfort of a reasonable joy. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 329 
 
 EXERCISE XLVI. DIALOGUE FROM THE ' TRIUMPH OF LUCCA.'— 
 
 Miss Landon. 
 
 Scene, — the Senate-house : Speakers, — Gonsalvi, Castruccio * Nobles, 
 Attendants ; — the Senators in session : to them enters Gonsalvi. 
 
 [See remarks introductory to exercise xxx.] 
 
 Gon. Henceforward Florence claims your fealty ;t 
 She will secure you in all ancient rights, 
 Immunity, and privilege : her sword 
 Will stand between ye and your enemies. 
 For this, a yearly tribute must be paid 
 Of twenty thousand florins. 
 
 Noble. Our treasury's low, my lord. 
 
 Gon. And so is ours, 
 
 Exhausted by the late vexatious war, — 
 
 Noble. Urged by the Count Castruccio, not ourselves. 
 
 Gon. It must be paid. — 
 
 Noble. Well, well, 
 
 The goldsmiths round our market-place are rich. 
 The citizens, too, better being poor, 
 As more obedient, — right that they should pay 
 The penalty of their rebellious spirit. 
 
 Gon. [Rising.] 
 
 I leave you till to-morrow, when I bring 
 The treaty ready for your signatures, 
 And will receive your homage and your oaths. [Exit.] 
 
 Noble. Homage and tribute ! — these are bitter words, — 
 Less bitter than the Castrucani'sl sway ! 
 To day must fix his fate. What is his doom? 
 
 Several Nobles. Death ! 
 
 Noble. The noise approaches ! look ye to your swords, 
 
 Delay is fatal : — let Castruccio die ! 
 [ While yet speaking, Castruccio enters armed and attended,-— 
 having been rescued by the people.] 
 
 * Pronounced Castroocho : — ch as in church. 
 
 -f- The Senate of Lucca, actuated by envy of the patriot chief Cas- 
 truccio, had imprisoned him, and proposed submission to the sway of 
 the Florentines, their enemies. 
 
 % Pronounced Castroocdnee's. 
 
 28* 
 
330 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Cas. Not yet, — not by your hand ! Thanks, gentlemen, 
 For an indifferent lodging. I have learned 
 That prisons tenanted with thoughts of death, 
 Are not a punishment to order lightly; 
 Therefore ye shall not fill my vacant place. 
 
 Noble. The game is yours. — I, for one, ask not mercy. 
 
 Cas. And therefore worthier to have unasked. 
 
 Ye do mistake me, signors : all my thoughts 
 To you are grateful ones. But for your rash 
 And ill-advised attempt, I had not known 
 How true the love on which my pow r er is built, — 
 How strong the cause the people trust with me ' 
 
 Gon. [Re-entering.] 
 
 I must demand some escort; for the streets 
 Are filled with people, and unwillingly 
 Would I shed blood. — What ! Castruccio here ? 
 
 Cas. Ready to give the Count Gonsalvi* audience, 
 
 And ask, what are the terms he brings from Florence t 
 
 Gon. With these, the representatives of Lucca,t 
 I have arranged our treaty. 
 
 Cas. On what terms ? 
 
 Gon. That ye submit yourselves, and pledge your faith, 
 True vassals unto Florence ; and each year 
 Remit your tribute, — twenty thousand florins ! 
 
 Cas. Tribute and homage ! — Can they sink so low, 
 Men who have met ye bravely in the field ? 
 Now hear me, Count Gonsalvi : Lucca rather 
 Would see her walls dismantled, than consent 
 To yield such base submission. 
 
 Gon. These are her chiefs; — in their consent she yields. 
 
 Cas. You see that they are silent. — By my voice 
 
 Does Lucca speak : she would be glad of peace* 
 
 An equal, sure and honourable peace : — 
 
 To terms like these, she has but one reply — defiance 
 
 Gon. Florence will teach you better in the field ! 
 
 Cas. This to your conqueror ? not three weeks have passed 
 Since, in the field we met. I think you found 
 More service from your spurs than from your swords. 
 
 * Pronounced Gonzalvee. \ Pronounced Lookka 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 331 
 
 Gon 'T was an unlucky chance of Avar. 
 
 Cas. Not so, my lord ; there was a higher cause, — 
 
 The right against the wrong. Your army came, 
 
 A mercenary and a selfish band, 
 
 Some urged by false ambition, some for spoil. 
 
 No noble motive, noble impulse gave, 
 
 Ye were aggressors, and ye fought like such, 
 
 I tell you, Count, with not a third your numbers 
 
 I chased your flying hosts within your gates. 
 
 Gon. I came not for a boast but for an answer, — 
 War or submission ? 
 
 Cas. War or Submission ! sad such choice and stern : 
 Vast is the suffering — great the wrong of war ! 
 But, — and all Lucca speaketh in the words, — 
 Rather we take the suffering; and the wrong 
 Rests on the oppressor's head, than we submit : 
 Not while one hand can strike on Lucca's side, 
 Not while one stone is left on Lucca's walls, 
 Will Lucca stoop beneath a foreign yoke. 
 Ye only fight for conquest or for spoil : 
 We for our homes, our rights, our ancient walls ! 
 The sword is drawn. — God be the judge between us 
 
 Gon. Have ye no other answer ? 
 
 Cas. None ; — Cesario is your escort to the gates. 
 
 Gon. I take your answer. — War, then, to the death ! — \Exit. \ 
 
 Noble. Are ye not rash in this ? how weak our state, 
 Compared with Florence ! 
 
 Cas. Twice have we met them in the open field, 
 
 Each time they fled before us. Oh ! my friends, 
 If I may call ye such, we are not weak 
 Who have our swords, and urge a war 
 Just in the sight of Heaven. Our weakness lies 
 In our dissensions, in the small base aims 
 That disunite us from the common cause. 
 Lucca were strong, had Lucca but one heart ; 
 Why should ye be mine enemies ? I seek 
 Yours in the general good. I stand between 
 Ye and a people whom ye would oppress. 
 Know ye not, love has stronger rule than fear ? 
 A country, filled with tyrants and with slaves, 
 What waits upon her history ? — crime and shame ? 
 
332 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 But the free state, where rank is knit 
 By general blessings, freedom shared by all, 
 There is prosperity, — there those great names 
 Whose glory lingers though themselves be gone. 
 It is not you I serve, it is your country ! [Applause.} 
 
 Noble. [Aside.] 
 
 I see that we must yield, or seem to yield : — 
 He 's master now. 
 
 Cos. And for this base submission 
 
 To your hereditary enemies, 
 There is no yoke so galling as the yoke of 
 Foreign invaders, placed upon your neck. 
 The heavy and the arbitrary sway 
 That ye would fix upon your countrymen, 
 Would soon be on yourselves. — Lucca is free : — 
 To keep her so is trusted to your swords ! 
 I march to meet the Florentines to-morrow; 
 Will ye not follow me, for Lucca's sake ? 
 
 Nobles. We will. 
 
 exercise xlvii. — eulogy of Washington. — Lord Brougham. 
 [See remarks introductory to exercise xx.] 
 
 In Washington, we truly behold a marvellous contrast to 
 ?lmost every one of the endowments and vices of Bona- 
 parte, so well fitted to excite a mingled admiration, and sor- 
 row, and abhorrence. With none of that brilliant genius 
 which dazzles ordinary minds ; — with not even any remark- 
 able quickness of apprehension, — with knowledge less than 
 almost all persons in the middle ranks, and many well edu- 
 cated of the humbler classes possess ; this eminent person is 
 presented to our observation, clothed in attributes as modest, 
 as unpretending, as little calculated to strike or astonish, as 
 if he had passed, unknown, through some secluded region 
 of private life. 
 
 But he had a judgment sure and sound ; a steadiness of 
 mind which never suffered any passion, not even any feeling, 
 to ruffle its calm ; a strength of understanding which worked, 
 rather than forced, its way, through all obstacles ; removing 
 or avoiding rather than overleaping them. His courage, 
 whether in battle or in council, was as perfect as might be 
 expected from this pure and steady temper of soul. 
 
 A perfectly just man, with a thoroughly firm resolution 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 333 
 
 never to be misled by others, any more than by others over- 
 awed ; never to be seduced or betrayed, or hurried away by 
 his own weakness or self-delusions, any more than by other 
 men's arts; nor even to be disheartened by the most com- 
 plicated difficulties, any more than to be spoiled upon the 
 giddy heights of fortune ; — such was this great man, — 
 whether we regard him sustaining, alone, the whole weight 
 of campaigns all but desperate, or gloriously terminating a 
 just warfare by his resources and courage, — presiding over 
 the jarring elements of political council, alike deaf to the 
 storms of all extremes, or directing the formation of a new 
 government, for a great people, the first time that so vast 
 an experiment had ever been tried by man ; or, finally, 
 retiring from the Supreme Power to which his virtue had 
 raised him over the nation he had created, and whose des- 
 tinies he had guided as long as his aid was required ; — retir- 
 ing from the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all 
 mankind, in order that the rights of men might be conserved, 
 and that his example might never be appealed to by vulgar 
 tyrants. 
 
 This is the consummate glory of the great American ; — a 
 triumphant warrior where the most sanguine had a right to 
 despair; a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a course 
 wholly untried ; but a warrior, whose sword only left its 
 sheath when the first law of our nature commanded it to be 
 drawn ; and a ruler, who, having tasted of supreme power, 
 gently and unostentatiously desired that the cup might pass 
 from him, nor would suffer more to wet his lips, than the 
 most solemn and sacred duty to his country and his God 
 required ! 
 
 To his latest breath did this great patriot maintain the 
 noble character of a captain the patron of peace, and a states- 
 man the friend of justice. Dying, he bequeathed to his 
 heirs the sword which he had worn in the war of liberty, 
 charging them 'never to take it from the scabbard, but in self- 
 defence, or in defence of their country and her freedom; and 
 commanding them, that, when it should thus be drawn, they 
 should never sheath it nor give it up, but prefer falling with 
 it in their hands to the relinquishment thereof,' — words, the 
 majesty and simple eloquence of which, are not surpassed in 
 the oratory of Athens and Rome. 
 
 It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in ail 
 ages, to omit no occasion of commemorating this illustrious 
 man ; and, till time shall be no more, will a test of the 
 
334 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 progress which our race made in wisdom and in virtue, be 
 derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of 
 Washington. 
 
 EXERCISE XLVIII. NECESSITY OF REFORM IN PARLIAMENT. 
 
 Lord Grey. 
 
 From his speech in the House of Commons, on the petition of the 
 Friends of the People 
 
 [This piece exemplifies the tones of earnest and animated decla- 
 mation : it requires an attention to spirited utterance.] 
 
 I am aware of the difficulties I have to encounter in bring- 
 ing forward this business ; I am aware how ungracious it 
 would be for this House to show that they are not the real 
 representatives of the people ; I am aware that the question 
 has been formerly agitated on different occasions, by great 
 and able characters, who have deserted the cause from de- 
 spair of success ; and I am aware that I must necessarily go 
 into what may perhaps be supposed trite and worn-out argu- 
 ments. I come forward on the present occasion, actuated 
 solely by a sense of duty, to make a serious and important 
 motion, which, I am ready fairly to admit, involves no less a 
 consideration than a fundamental change in the government. 
 
 I feel, in the strongest manner, how very formidable an 
 adversary I have to encounter in the right honourable gen- 
 tleman opposite, (Mr. Pitt,) formidable from his talents, for- 
 midable from the influence of his situation ; but still more 
 formidable from having once been friendly to the cause of 
 reform, and becoming its determined opponent, drawing off 
 others from its standard. 
 
 With that right honourable gentleman I will never conde- 
 scend to bargain, nor shall he endeavour to conciliate my 
 favour by any mode of compliment; I have never disguised 
 the objections I have to the way in which he came into 
 power, and to the whole system of his government, since. 
 
 At the Revolution, the necessity of short parliaments was 
 asserted; and every departure from these principles, is in 
 some shape a departure from the spirit and practice of the 
 constitution ; yet, when they are compared with the present 
 state of the representation, how does the matter stand ? Are 
 the elections free : or are parliaments free ? With respect to 
 shortening the duration of parliament, it does not appear to 
 me that it would be advantageous, without a total alteration 
 of the present system. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 335 
 
 Has not the patronage of peers increased ? Is not the 
 patronage of India now vested in the crown ? Are all these 
 innovations to be made in order to increase the influence of 
 the executive power ; and is nothing to be done in favour of 
 the popular part of the constitution, to act as a counter- 
 poise ? 
 
 It maybe said, that the House of Commons are really a 
 just representation of the people, because, on great emer- 
 gencies, they never fail to speak the sense of the people, as 
 was the case in the American war, and in the Russian arma- 
 ment ; but had the House of Commons had a real represen- 
 tation of the people, they would have interfered sooner on 
 these occasions, without the necessity of being called upon to 
 do so. I fear much that this House is not a real represen- 
 tation of the people, and that it is too much influenced by 
 passion, prejudice, or interest. 
 
 This may for a time give to the executive government 
 apparent strength ; but no government can be either lasting 
 or free, which is not founded on virtue, and on that indepen- 
 dence of mind and conduct among the people, which creates 
 energy, and leads to every thing that is noble and generous, 
 or that can conduce to the strength and safety of a state. 
 
 " "What constitutes a state ? — 
 Not high raised battlement or laboured mound, 
 
 Thick wall or moated gate ; 
 Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crown'd, 
 
 Not bays and broad-armed ports, 
 "Where, laughing at the storm, proud navies ride ; 
 
 Not starred and spangled courts, — 
 Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride ! 
 
 No ! men. — hi^h-minded men, 
 With powers as far above dull brutes endued, 
 
 In forest, brake, or den, 
 As beasts excel cold rocks, and brambles rude, — 
 
 Men who their duties know, 
 But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain/' 
 
336 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE XLLX. FALSE ELOQUENCE. AnOTl. 
 
 From a speech in Congress on the Revenue Bill of 1833. 
 
 [Bombast, — of which the following- is a specimen, — is distin- 
 guished by vociferation and mouthing, and excessively swelling lone; 
 along with which usually goes the accompaniment of overdone ac- 
 tion, — a ceaseless sweep and swing of the arm ; — the whole forming 
 a full illustration of exaggeration and caricature.] 
 
 We understand it now. — The President is impatient to 
 wTeak his vengeance on South Carolina. Be it so. Pass 
 your measure, sir, — unchain your tiger, — let loose your war- 
 dogs as soon as you please ! I know the people you desire 
 to war on. They await you with unflinching, unshrinking, 
 unblanching firmness. 
 
 I know full well the State you strike at. She is deeply 
 enshrined in as warm affections, brave hearts, and high 
 minds, as ever formed a living rampart for public liberty. 
 They will receive this bill, sir, w T hether you pass the other or 
 not, w r ith scorn, and indignation, and detestation. They never 
 will submit to it. They will see in. it the iron crown of Char- 
 lemagne placed upon the head of your Executive. They 
 will see in it the scene upon the Lupercal vamped up, and 
 new-varnished. They will see in its hideous features of 
 pains and penalties, a declaration of war in all but its form. 
 They cannot, (for they are the best informed people on the 
 face of the earth, or that ever have been on it, on the great 
 principles of civil and political liberty.) but see in it the utter 
 prostration and demolition of State rights, State constitutions, 
 aye, and of the Federal constitution too. 
 
 Is this thing so coveted by, and gratifying to, the Presi- 
 dent, — is this bloody bill, this Boston port-bill, so delightful to 
 him, that it is to be preferred to that w r hich is said to be 
 pacificatory? Why, sir, if he must be gratified, must be 
 amused and pleasurably employed, buy him a tee-to-tum, 
 or some other harmless toy, but do not give him the purse 
 and sword of the nation, the army and navy, — the whole 
 military power of the country, as peaceful playthings to be 
 used at his discretion. 
 
 If, however, this bill must pass, — if there be no substitute 
 so palatable as blood, I withdraw my opposition to its being 
 taken up, and only ask the privilege of exposing its details ; 
 although I clearly see that the interested passions on one 
 side, and a supple subserviency on another, will insure its 
 passage by a very large majority. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 337 
 
 One word, sir, to the gentleman who says this bill is neces- 
 sary, because South Carolina has not yet repealed her ordi- 
 nance. Has not yet, I presume means, notwithstanding the 
 President's Proclamation. Sir, South Carolina has received, 
 the insolent mandate of the President, commanding her to 
 retrace her steps, tear from her archives one of the brightest 
 pages of her glory, and alter the fundamental principles of 
 her constitution ; and she sends him back, (through her hum- 
 ble representatives,) the message sent from Utica to Caesar— 
 " Bid him disband his legions ; 
 Restore the Commonwealth to liberty ; 
 Submit his actions to the public censure, 
 Abide the judgment of a Roman Senate, 
 And strive to gain the pardon of the people." 
 That, sir, is her answer I 
 
 EXERCISE L. SCENE FROM THE LORD OF THE ISLES. Scott. 
 
 Speakers, — Lord Ronald, Lorn, Edward and Robert Bruce, Abbot, 
 and Attendants, De Argentine, Torquil, and MinstreL 
 
 [See remarks introductory to exercise xxx. — This and several 
 other di; logues, — it will be perceived from their comparative length, 
 > — are designed for ' exhibition' occasions/] 
 
 Ronald. [Entering to the rest who are seated, and conduct- 
 ing the Bruces.] 
 Brother of Lorn, and you, fair lords, rejoice ! 
 Here, — to augment our glee, — 
 Come, wandering knights from travel far. 
 Well proved, they say, in strife of war, 
 And tempest on the sea. — 
 Ho ! give them at your board such place 
 As best their presence seems to grace, 
 And bid them welcCme free !— 
 
 Lorn. Say in your voyage if aught ye knew 
 Of the rebellious Scottish crew, 
 Who to Rath Erin's shelter drew 
 With Carrick's outlawed chief? 
 And if, — their winter's exile o'er, — 
 They harbour still by Ulster's shore 
 Or launch their galleys on the main, 
 To vex their native land again ? 
 
 Edw. Of rebels have we nought to show, 
 
 But if of Roval Bruce, thou 'dst know, 
 29 
 
338 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 I warn thee he has sworn, 
 Ere thrice three days shall come and go, 
 His banner Scottish winds shall blow,— 
 Despite each mean or mighty foe, — 
 From England's every bill and bow 
 To Allaster of Lorn. — 
 
 Ron. Brother, it better suits the time 
 
 To chase the night with Ferrand's rhyme, 
 Than wake, 'midst mirth and wine, the jars 
 That flow from these unhappy wars. — 
 
 Lorn. Content. 
 
 The lay I named will carry smart [To Argenthu,] 
 To these bold strangers' haughty heart, 
 If right this guess of mine. — 
 
 Min. "Whence the broach of burning gold, 
 That clasps the chieftain's mantle fold, 
 Wrought and chased with rare device, 
 Studded fair with gems of price, 
 On the varied tartans beaming, 
 As, through night's pale rainbow gleaming 
 Fainter now, now seen afar, 
 Fitful shines the northern star? 
 Moulded thou for monarch's use, 
 By the overweening Bruce, 
 When the royal robe he tied 
 O'er a heart of wrath and pride ; 
 Thence in triumph wert thou torn, 
 By the victor hand of Lorn ! 
 While the gem was won and lost 
 Widely was the war-cry tossed ! 
 Rung aloud Bendourish Fell ; 
 Answered Douchart's sounding dell ; 
 Fled the deer from wild Teyndrum ; 
 When the homicide, o'ercome, 
 Hardly 'scaped with scath and scorn, 
 Left the pledge with conquering Lorn! 
 Then this broach, triumphant borne, 
 Beam'd upon the breast of Lorn.^ 
 Farthest fled its former lord, 
 Left his men to brand and cord, — 
 Bloody brand of- Highland steel, 
 English gibbet, axe, and wheel. 
 Let him fly from coast to coast, 
 Dogged by Comyn's vengeful ghost, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 339 
 
 While his spoils in triumph worn 
 Long shall grace victorious Lorn ! — 
 
 Rob. Be still ! [ To Edward, who is enraged.] 
 What ! art thou yet so wiid of will, 
 After high deeds and suffering long, 
 To chafe thee for a menial's song ? [ To the minstrel^ 
 Well hast thou framed, old man, thy strains, 
 To praise the hand that pays thy pains ; 
 Yet something might thy song have told 
 Of Lorn's three vassals, true and bold, 
 Who rent their lord from Bruce 's hold, 
 As underneath his knee he lay, 
 And died to save him in the fray. 
 I've heard the Bruce's cloak and clasp 
 Were clenched within their dying grasp, 
 What time a hundred foemen more 
 Rushed in, and back the victor bore, 
 Long after Lorn had left the strife, 
 Full glad to 'scape with limb and life. — 
 Enough of this, — and minstrel, hold, 
 As minstrel hire, this chain of gold, 
 For future lays a fair excuse, 
 To speak more nobly of the Bruce. 
 
 Lorn. Now, by Columba's shrine I swear, 
 And every saint that's buried there, 
 'Tis he himself! 
 And for my kinsman's death he dies. — 
 
 Ron. Forbear ! — 
 
 Not in my sight, while brand I wear, 
 
 O'ermatched by odds shall warrior fall, 
 
 Or blood of stranger stain my hall, 
 
 This ancient fortress of my race 
 
 Shall be misfortune's resting place, 
 
 Shelter and shield of the distressed, 
 
 No slaughter-house for shipwrecked guest.— 
 
 Lorn. Talk not to me 
 
 Of odds or match ! — When Comyn died, 
 Three daggers clash'd within his side ! 
 Talk not to me of sheltering hall ! — 
 The Church of God saw Comyn fall ! 
 On God's own altar streamed his blood ; 
 While o'er my prostrate kinsman stood 
 The ruthless murderer, even as now, — 
 With armed hand and scornful brow.-- 
 
340 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Up, all who love me ! blow on blow 
 And lay the outlawed felons low ! 
 
 Arg. I claim 
 
 The prisoners in my sovereign's name, 
 To England's crown, who, vassals sworn, 
 Gainst their liege lord have weapon borne. -» 
 
 Tor. Somewhat we've heard of England's yoke 
 And, in our islands, Fame 
 Hath whispered of a lawful claim, 
 That calls the Bruce fair Scotland's lord, 
 Though dispossessed by foreign sword. 
 Let England's crown her rebels seize, 
 Where she has power, — in towers like these, 
 'Midst Scottish chieftains summoned here 
 To bridal mirth and bridal cheer, 
 Be sure with no consent of mine, 
 Shall either Lorn or Argentine 
 With chains or violence, in our sight, 
 Oppress a brave and banished knight. 
 
 Ron. The Abbot comes ! 
 
 The holy man, whose favoured glance 
 
 Hath sainted visions known ; 
 
 Angels have met him on the way, 
 
 Beside the blessed martyr's bay, 
 
 And by Columba's stone. 
 
 He comes our feuds to reconcile, 
 
 A sainted man from sainted isle. 
 
 We will his holy doom abide, 
 
 The Abbot shall our strife decide :— 
 
 Abbot, [entering.] 
 
 Fair lords, our lady's love, 
 
 And peace be with you from above, 
 
 And Benedicite ! — 
 
 — But what means this ? No peace is here '• 
 
 Do dirks unsheathed suit bridal cheer ? 
 
 Or are these naked brands 
 
 A seemly show for churchman's sight, 
 
 When he comes summoned to unite 
 
 Betrothed hearts and hands ? 
 
 Lorn. Thou com'st, holy man, 
 
 True sons of blessed church to greet; 
 But little deeming here to meet 
 A wretch beneath the ban 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 341 
 
 Of pope and church, for murder done 
 Even on the sacred altar stone ! — 
 Well may 'st thou wonder we should know 
 Such miscreant here, nor lay him low, 
 Or dream of greeting, peace or truce, 
 With excommunicated Bruce ! 
 Yet well I grant, to end debate, 
 Thy sainted voice decide his fate. 
 
 Bon. Enough of noble blood, 
 
 By English Edward had been shed, 
 
 Since matchless Wallace first had been 
 
 In mockery crowned with wreaths of green, 
 
 And done to death by felon hand, 
 
 For guarding well his father's land. 
 
 What! can the English leopard's mood 
 
 Never be gorged with northern blood? 
 
 Was not the life of Athol shed, 
 
 To sooth the_ tyrant's sickened bed 
 
 And must his word, at dying day, 
 
 Be nought but quarter, hang, and slay !— 
 
 Thou frown'st, De Argentine. — My gage 
 
 Is prompt to prove the strife I wage. 
 
 Torq. Nor deem 
 
 That thou shalt brave alone the fight ! — 
 
 By saints of isle and mainland both, 
 
 By Woden wild, (my grandsire's oath,) 
 
 Let Rome and England do their worst, 
 
 Howe'er attainted or accursed, 
 
 If Bruce shall e'er find friends again, 
 
 Once more to brave a battle plain, 
 
 If Douglas couch again his lance, 
 
 Or Randolph dare another chance, 
 
 Old Torquil will not be to lack 
 
 With twice a thousand at his back. — 
 
 Nay, chafe not at my bearing bold, 
 
 Good Abbot ! for thou know'st of old 
 
 Torquil's rude thought, and stubborn will, 
 
 Smack of the wild Norwegian still ; 
 
 Nor will I barter freedom's cause 
 
 For England's wealth or Rome's applause,— 
 
 Abbot. And thou, — [To Bruce.] 
 
 Unhappy ! what hast thou to plead, 
 Why I denounce not on thy deed 
 29* 
 
342 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 That awful doom which canon's tell 
 
 Shuts paradise, and opens hell ; 
 
 Anathema of power so dread, 
 
 Bids each good angel soar away, 
 
 And every ill one claim his prey ; 
 
 Expels thee from the church's care, 
 
 And deafens Heaven against thy prayer ; 
 
 Haunts thee while living; — and, when dead, 
 
 Dwells on thy yet devoted head. 
 
 Rends honour's scutcheon from thy hearse, 
 
 Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse, 
 
 And spurns thy corpse from hallowed ground, 
 
 Flung like vile carrion, to the hound ! 
 
 Such is the dire and desperate doom, 
 
 For sacrilege decreed by Rome ; 
 
 And such the well-deserved meed 
 
 Of thine unhallowed, ruthless deed. 
 
 floh. Abbot ! thy charge 
 
 It boots not to dispute at large. 
 
 This much howe'er I bid thee know : 
 
 No selfish vengeance dealt the blow ; 
 
 For Comyn died his country's foe. 
 
 Nor blame I friends whose ill-timed speed 
 
 Fulfilled my soon repented deed, 
 
 Nor censure those from whose stern tongue 
 
 The dire anathema has rung: 
 
 I only blame mine own wild ire, 
 
 By Scotland's wrongs incensed to fire. 
 
 Heaven knows my purpose to atone, 
 
 Far as I may, the evil done, 
 
 And hears a penitent's appeal 
 
 From papal curse and prelate's zeal. 
 
 My first and dearest task achieved, 
 
 Fair Scotland from her thrall relieved, 
 
 Shall many a priest in cope and stole. 
 
 Say requiem for Red Comyn's soul, 
 
 While I the blessed cross advance, 
 
 And expiate this unhappy chance, 
 
 In Palestine, with sword and lance. 
 
 But while content the church should knoT* 
 
 My conscience owns the debt I owe, 
 
 Unto De Argentine and Lorn 
 
 The name of traitor I return, 
 
 Bid them defiance stern and high, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 343 
 
 And give them, in their throats, the lie ! 
 These brief words spoke, I speak no more 
 Do what thou wilt : my shrift is o'er. 
 
 Abbot. De Bruce ! I rose with purpose dread 
 To speak my curse upon thy head, 
 And give thee as an outcast o'er 
 To him who burns to shed thy gore ; — 
 But like the Midianite of old, 
 Who stood on Zophian, heaven-controlled, 
 I feel, within mine aged breast, 
 A power that will not be repressed. 
 It prompts my voice ; it swells my veins ; — 
 It burns, it maddens, it constrains ! 
 O'ermastered thus by high behest, 
 I bless thee, and thou shalt be bless'd \ 
 Bless'd in thy sceptre and thy sword, 
 De Bruce, fair Scotland's rightful lord, — 
 Bless'd in thy deeds and in thy fame, 
 What lengthened honours wait thy name ' 
 In distant ages, sire to son 
 Shall tell thy tale of freedom won, 
 And teach his infants, in the use 
 Of earliest speech, to falter ''Brace I ' 
 The power, whose dictates swell my breast, 
 Haih bless'd thee, and thou shalt be bless'd ! — 
 Brethren, our errand here is o'er, [speaking to his at- 
 tendant monks^\ 
 Our task discharged. — Unmoor, unmoor J 
 
 EXERCISE LI. THE FATE OF MCGREGOR. Hogg. 
 
 [This specimen of the superstitious helief of the Scottish high- 
 landers,, requires, — from the wild and preternatural character of the 
 whole, — an intensity of tone transcending all usual limit. The 
 half ivhisper of horror, the literal whisper of terror, the •scream of 
 agony, all have their appropriate place, In the recitation of this 
 piece. It is designed as a full exercise in the most impressive 
 forms of powerful emotion. — One important, result attending the 
 practice of such pieces, is that heightened susceptibility of imagin« 
 ation, which is so powerful an instrument of expressive effect.] 
 
 " McGregor, McGregor! remember our foemen, — 
 The moon rises broad o'er the brow of Ben Lomond, 
 The clans are impatient, and chide thy delay,— 
 Arise I — Let us bound to Glenlyon away 1 " 
 
344 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Stern scowled the McGregor, then silent and sullen, 
 He turned his red eye to the braes of Strathfillan, 
 " Go, Malcom, to sleep : let the clans be dismissed ; 
 The Campbells, this night, for McGregor must rest." 
 
 " McGregor, McGregor ! our scouts have been flying 
 Three days round the hills of McNab and Glenlyon, — 
 Of riding and running such tidings they bear, 
 We must meet them at home, else they '11 quickly be here* 
 
 " The Campbell may come, as his promises bind him, 
 And haughty -McNab with his giants behind him ; 
 This night I am bound to relinquish the fray, 
 And do what it freezes my vitals to say. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear brother, this horror of mind ; — 
 Thou knowest in the battle I was never behind ; 
 Nor ever receded a foot from the van, 
 Nor blenched at the ire or the prowess of man ; 
 
 " But I 've sworn by the cross, by my God, and by all, — 
 An oath which I cannot and dare not recall, — 
 Ere the shadows of midnight fall east from the pile, 
 To meet tvith a spirit, this ?iight, in Glengyle. 
 
 " Last night, in my chamber, all thoughtful and lone, 
 I called to remembrance some deeds I had done, — 
 When entered a lady, with visage so wan, 
 And looks such as never were fastened on man. 
 
 " I knew her, brother ! I knew her full well : — 
 
 Of that once fair dame such a tale I could tell, 
 
 As would thrill thy bold heart ; but how long she remained, 
 
 So racked was my spirit — my bosom so pained, 
 
 " I knew not ; but ages seemed short to the while : — 
 Though proffer the highlands, — nay, all the green isle, 
 With length of existence no man can enjoy, 
 The same to endure, the dread proffer I'd fly J 
 
 " The thrice threatened pangs of kst night to foreg©> 
 McGregor would dive to the mansions below ! 
 Despairing and mad, to futurity blind, 
 The present to shun, and some respite to find, — 
 
 u I swore, ere the shadows fall east from the pile 
 To meet her alone by the brook of Glengyle * 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 345 
 
 A. parting embrace in one moment she gave, — 
 Her breath was a furnace, her bosom the grave ; 
 
 u Then flitting elusive she said with a frown, 
 
 I The mighty McGregor shall yet be my own ! ' " 
 
 II McGregor ! thy fancies are wild as the wind ; 
 The dreams of the night have disordered thy mind. 
 
 " Come, buckle thy panoply, march to the field; 
 See, brother, how hacked are thy helmet and shield ' 
 Ay ! that was McNab, in the height of his pride, 
 When the lions of Dochart stood firm by his side. 
 
 11 This night the proud chief his presumption shall rue ; 
 Rise, brother ! these chinks in his heart blood shall glue. 
 Thy fantasies frightful shall flit on the wing, 
 When loud with thy bugle Glenlyon shall ring." 
 
 Like glimpse of the moon through the storm of the night, 
 McGregor's red eye shed one sparkle of light, — 
 It faded, — it darkened, — he shuddered, — he sighed : 
 " No ! — not for the universe ! " low he replied. 
 
 Away went McGregor, but went not alone : — 
 To watch the dread rendezvous Malcom has gone ; 
 They oared the broad Lomond, so still and serene, 
 And, deep in her bosom, how awful the scene ! 
 
 Over mountains inverted the blue water curled, 
 And rocked them o'er skies of a far nether world :-— 
 All silent they went ; for the time was approaching,-— 
 The moon the blue zenith already was touching. 
 
 No foot was abroad on the forest or hill, 
 
 No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill : 
 
 Young Malcom, at distance couched, trembling the while; 
 
 McGregor stood lone, by the brook of Glengyle. 
 
 Few minutes had passed, ere they spied, on the stream, 
 
 A skiff sailing light, where a lady did seem ; 
 
 Her sail was a web of the gossamer's loom ; 
 
 The glow-worm her wake-light, the rainbow her boom. 
 
 A dim rayless beam was her prow, and her mast 
 Like wold-fire at midnight, that glares o'er the waste. 
 Though rough was the river with rock and cascade, 
 No torrent, no rock, her velocity staid ; 
 
310 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 She wimpled the water to weather and lea, 
 And heaved as if borne on the waves of the sea. 
 
 Mute nature was roused in the bounds of the glen,— 
 The wild deer of Gairtney abandoned his den, 
 Fled panting away over river and isle, . 
 
 Nor once turned his eye to the brook of Glengyle. 
 
 The fox fled in terror ; the eagle awoke, 
 As slumbering he dozed on a shelve of the rock, — 
 Astonished, to hide in the moonbeam he flew, 
 And screwed the night heavens till lost in the blue. 
 
 Young Malcom beheld the pale lady approach, 
 The chieftain salute her, and shrink from her touch; 
 He saw the McGregor kneel down on the plain, 
 As if begging for something he could not obtain. 
 
 She raised him indignant, derided his stay, 
 Then bore him on board, set her sail and away ! 
 Though fast the red bark down the river did glide, 
 Yet faster ran Malcom adown by its side : — 
 
 " McGregor, McGregor ! " he bitterly cried : — 
 
 " McGregor, McGregor ! " the echoes replied. 
 
 He struck at the lady; but, — strange though it seem,— 
 
 Jlis sword only fell on the rock and the stream ; 
 
 But the groans from the boat that ascended amain, 
 Were groans from a bosom in horror and pain : 
 They reached the dark lake, and bore lightly away, — 
 McGregor is vanished, — for ever and aye ! 
 
 EXERCISE LII. THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL OF 1833. 
 
 O'Connell. 
 
 [An example of vehement and err/passioned declamation ; requiring 
 the utmost power of voice and gesture.] 
 
 I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this House, — I do not 
 rise to supplicate you to be merciful towards the nation to 
 which I belong — towards a nation which, though subject to 
 England, yet is distinct from it. It is a distinct nation : it 
 has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved 
 by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call 
 upon this House, as you value the liberty of England, not 
 to allow the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 347 
 
 the liberties of England, — the liberty of the press, and of 
 every other institution dear to Englishmen. The bill, it 
 is true, is mitigated ; but, even in its mitigated shape, it con- 
 tains horrors enough to insult, in the grossest manner, the 
 people of my country. There remain still those clauses 
 which put down the right of petitioning, which put down 
 political agitation, — which make them both, offences not pun- 
 ishable by the ordinary tribunal's, but by what I will call revo- 
 lutionary ones. 
 
 Against the bill I protest in the name of the Irish people, 
 and in the face of Heaven. I protest against the power grantea 
 to the Lord Lieutenant to prevent meetings, no matter for 
 what purpose they might be convened. AH I ask for my 
 country, is, justice ; and, so long as the present government 
 are unjust towards her, I laugh to scorn your promised gen- 
 erosity. 
 
 I strenuously object to the power granted to the Lord 
 Lieutenant to prevent meetings, because there are grievances 
 to be redressed in my country ; and one of the ways to 
 remedy these, is by petitions, emanating from large assem- 
 blies. I will dare any one to say jhat there are not griev- 
 ances in Ireland. 
 
 1 treat with scorn the puny and pitiful assertions that 
 grievances are not to be complained of, — -that our redress is 
 not to be agitated : for, in such cases, remonstrances cannot 
 be too strong, — agitation cannot be too violent, to show to 
 the world with what injustice our fair claims are met, and 
 under what tyranny the people suffer. 
 
 There are two frightful clauses in this bill. The one which 
 does away with trial by jury, and which I have called upon 
 you to baptize : — you call it a court martial, — a mere nick- 
 name ; I stigmatize it as a revolutionary tribunal. What, in 
 the name of heaven, is it, if it is not a revolutionary tribunal ? 
 It annihilates the trial by jury; — it drives the judge from 
 his bench, — the man who, from experience, could weigh the 
 nice and delicate points of a case, — who could discriminate 
 between the straight- for ward testimony and the suborned 
 evidence, — who could see, plainly and readily, the justice or 
 injustice of the accusation. It turns out this man who is 
 free, unshackled, unprejudiced, — who has no previous opin- 
 ions to control the clear exercise of his duty. You do away 
 with that which is more sacred than the throne itself; that 
 for which your king reigns, your lords deliberate, your com- 
 mons assemble. 
 
 I pray to my God that when repeal comes ; and come it 
 
348 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 now must, — ministers can never stay it; they cannot even 
 hope to do so ; — it may come through peaceful agency, and 
 not through oceans of blood. If ever I doubted before of 
 the success of our agitation for repeal, this biil, — this infa- 
 mous bill, — the way in which it has been received by the 
 House, — the manner in which its opponents have been treated, 
 — the personalities to which they have been subjected, — the 
 yells with which one of them has this night been greeted ; — 
 all these things dissipate my doubts, and tell me of its com- 
 plete and early triumph. Do you think those yells will be 
 forgotten ? — Do you suppose their echo will not reach the 
 plains of my injured and insulted country, — that they will 
 not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her 
 lofty hills ? Oh ! they will be heard there : — yes, and they 
 will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound with 
 indignation ; they will say, " We are eight millions ; and 
 you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your coun- 
 try, than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey ! " 
 
 I have been, all my life, opposed to a certain party of my 
 countrymen in this House. I have contended with them for 
 years. I will not contend with them again ; or, if I do, it 
 shall not be in hostility.* I appeal to them now. They have 
 a deeper interest in their native land, than in that of party ; 
 and they must feel that there is nothing so prejudicial, so 
 destructive, — as those bad passions between man and man. 
 Let that hour arrive when mutual prejudices can be over- 
 come, and evil passions set at rest, and Irishmen can then 
 say, in a bold and unanswerable tone, "We want justice, and 
 will have equality. Ministers may then legislate for Eng- 
 land, but Irishmen will legislate for themselves. 
 
 Ministers have greatly assisted in the repeal of the Union ; 
 they have given increased energy to the cry ; because they 
 have convinced those who before doubted, that justice was 
 not meant to be done for Ireland. To be sure it may be said 
 they are not eight millions, — that they are divided ; but then 
 they luill be eight millions, when the fears of some, and the 
 unlucky prejudices of others, have been conquered by tho 
 force of reason and of truth. 
 
 I have done my duty : — I stand acquitted to my conscience 
 and my country : — I have opposed this measure "throughout ; 
 and I now protest against it as harsh, oppressive, uncalled 
 for, unjust,— as establishing an infamous precedent by re- 
 taliating crime against crime, — as tyrannous, — cruelly and 
 vindictively tyrannous. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 349 
 
 EXERCISE LIII. CONDITION OF IRELAND, PREVIOUS TO CATHO« 
 
 LIC EMANCIPATION. Shiel. 
 
 [The declamatory tone, in this piece, is softened by the poetic 
 beauty of the language. It should still, however, be warm and 
 glowing.] 
 
 Englishmen, look at Ireland! — what do you behold? — a 
 beautiful country, with wonderful agricultural and commer- 
 cial advantages, — the link between America and Europe, — 
 the natural resting place of trade, in its way to either hemi- 
 sphere ; — indented with havens, watered by deep and numer- 
 ous rivers, with a fortunate climate, and a soil teeming with 
 easy fertility, and inhabited by a bold, intrepid, and, — with 
 all their faults, — a generous and enthusiastic people. 
 
 Such is natural Ireland : — what is artificial Ireland ? Such 
 is Ireland, as God made her : — what is Ireland, as England 
 made her ? For she is your colony, your dependent ; and 
 you are as answerable for her faults, as a parent is for the 
 education of a child. What then have you made Ireland ? 
 Look at her again. 
 
 This fine country is laden with a population the most mis- 
 erable in Europe, and of whose wretchedness, if you are the 
 authors, you are beginning to be the victims : — the poisoned 
 chalice is returning* in its just circulation, to your own lips. 
 Your domestic swine are better housed than the people. 
 Harvests, the most abundant, are reaped by men with starva- 
 tion in their faces, — famine covers a fruitful soil ; and disease 
 inhales a pure atmosphere : — all the great commercial facili- 
 ties of the country are lost ; — the deep rivers, that should cir- 
 culate opulence, and turn the machinery of a thousand man- 
 ufactures, flow to the ocean without wafting a boat or turning 
 a wheel ; and the wave breaks in solitude, in the silent mag- 
 nificence of deserted and shipless harbours. 
 
 Instead of being a source of wealth and revenue to the 
 empire, Ireland cannot defray her own expenses or pay a 
 single tax ; her discontents cost millions of money ; and 
 she hangs like a financial millstone round England's neck. 
 Instead of being a bulwark and fortress, she debilitates, 
 exhausts, and endangers England, and offers an allurement 
 to, the speculators in universal ruin. 
 
 The great mass of her enormous population is alienated 
 and dissociated from the State ; the influence of the consti- 
 tuted and legitimate authorities is gone ; — a strange, anoma- 
 lous, and unexampled kind of government has sprung up from 
 30 
 
350 ELOCUT10NIS1. 
 
 the public passions, and exercises a despotic sway over the 
 great mass of the community ; while the class inferior ip 
 numbers, but accustomed to authority, and infuriated at its 
 loss, are thrown into formidable reaction. The" most fero- 
 cious passions rage from one extremity of the country to the 
 other. Hundreds and thousands of men, arrayed with 
 badges, gather in the south ; and the smaller factions, with 
 discipline and arms, are marshalled in the north. The coun- 
 try is strewed with the materials of civil commotion, and 
 seems like one vast magazine of powder, which a spark 
 might ignite into an explosion, that would shake the whole 
 fabric of civil society into ruin, and of which England would 
 not only feel, but perhaps never recover from, the shock. 
 
 exercise liv. — marseillese HYMN. — Translation. 
 
 [An example of the style of declamatory recitation. The effect 
 of the form of verse being added to declamation, is, of course, to 
 heighten all its prose characteristics. The fire of lyric passion is, 
 consequently added to the fervour of martial enthusiasm and decla- 
 matory eloquence; and the modulation becomes doubly vivid and 
 effective. While the appropriate rhythm of the metre, is allowed free 
 s^ope, it should be preserved from a mere chanting style.] 
 
 On, countrymen, on ! for the day, — 
 
 The proud day of glory, — is come ! — 
 See, the Tyrant's red banners in battle array 
 
 Are raised, and he dares to strike home ! — 
 Hark ! will you not, — can you not, — hear 
 
 The foe's fast approaching alarms ? — 
 They come ! 't is to wrest from us all we hold dear, 
 
 And slaughter our sons in our arms ! 
 
 To arms, gallant Frenchmen, to arms ! 'Tis the hour 
 Of freedom ; march on, in the pride of your power ; 
 And fight, till the foe to your valour shall yield, 
 And his life-blood dye deeply hill, valley, and field. 
 
 Say, whom do these traitors oppose ? 
 
 These kings leagued together for ill ? 
 Who for years have o'erwhelmed us with Tyranny's woes 
 
 And are forging fresh chains for us still ? 
 'Tis France they have dared to enthrall ! 
 
 'T is France they have dared to disgrace ! 
 Oh! shame on us, countrymen, shame on us all. 
 
 If we cringe to so dastard a race ! 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 351 
 
 Tremble, ye traitors, whose schemes 
 
 Are alike by all parties abhorred, — 
 Tremble ! for roused from your parricide dreams, 
 
 Ye shall soon meet your fitting reward ! 
 "We are soldiers, — nay, conquerors all ! 
 
 Past dishonour we 've sworn to efface ; 
 And, rely on it, fast as one hero shall fall, 
 
 Another shall rise in his place. 
 
 Ye Frenchmen, — the noble, — the brave, — 
 
 Who can weep, e'en in war's stern alarms, 
 Spare, spare the poor helpless and penitent slave, 
 
 Who is marshalled against you in arms ! — 
 But no pity for Bouille's stern band, 
 
 Who, with reckless and tiger-like force, 
 Would fain tear to atoms their own native land, 
 
 Without e'en a pang of remorse. 
 
 We will speed on our glorious career, 
 
 When our veterans are low in the tomb ; 
 But their patriot deeds, when they fought with us here, 
 
 In our memory forever shall bloom : 
 'Twas their just, — their magnanimous boast, 
 
 That for us they lived, — battled, — and died ; — 
 And we '11 either avenge them on Tyranny's host, 
 
 Or be laid, — to a man, — by their side ! 
 
 Freedom, dear freedom, sustain 
 
 Our hopes of revenge for the past ; 
 And grant that our banner, o'er hill and o'er plain 
 
 In triumph may float to the last ! 
 Grant, too, that our foes may behold, 
 
 Ere death lay his seal on their eyes, 
 Our success in the patriot cause we uphold, 
 
 And which dearer than ever we prize ! 
 
 To arms, gallant Frenchmen, to arms ! — 'Tis the hour 
 Of Freedom; march on in the pride of your power; 
 And fight till the foe to your valour shall yield, 
 And his life-blood dye deeply hill, valley, and field ! 
 
352 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE LV. HEROISM OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS OF NEW 
 
 ENGLAND. Ckodte. 
 
 [See introductory remarks to exercise xx.] 
 
 If one were called on to select the most glittering of the 
 instances of military heroism to which the admiration of the 
 world has been most constantly attracted, he would make 
 choice, I imagine, of the instance of that desperate valour, in 
 which, in obedience to the laws, Leonidas and hip three hun- 
 dred Spartans cast themselves headlong, at the passes of 
 Greece, on the myriads of their Persian invaders. From the 
 simple page of Herodotus, longer than from the Amphycti- 
 onic monument, or the games of the commemoration, that 
 act speaks still to the tears and praise of all the world. 
 
 Yet I agree with a late brilliant writer, in his speculation 
 on the probable feelings of that devoted band, left alone, 
 awaiting, till day should break, the approach of a certain 
 death, in that solitary defile. Their enthusiasm and their 
 rigid and Spartan spirit, which had made all ties subservient 
 to obedience to the law, all excitement tame to that of battle, 
 all pleasure dull to the anticipation of glory, probably made 
 the hours preceding death the most enviable of their lives. 
 They might have exulted in the same enviable fanaticism, 
 which distinguished afterwards the followers of Mohammed, 
 and seen that opening Paradise in immortality below, which 
 the Mussulman beheld in anticipation above ! Judge if it 
 were not so ; judge, if a more decorated and conspicuous 
 stage was ever erected for the transaction of a deed of fame. 
 Every eye in Greece, every eye throughout the world of civ- 
 ilization, throughout even the uncivilized and barbaric East, 
 was felt to be turned directly on the playing of that brief 
 part. There passed round that narrow circle in the tent, the 
 stern, warning image of Sparta, pointing to their shields, and 
 saying 'With these to-morrow, or upon them.' 
 
 Consider, too, that the one concentrated and comprehensive 
 sentiment, graved on their souls as by fire and by steel, by all 
 the influences of their whole life, by the mothers' lips, by the 
 fathers' example, 'by the law, by venerated religious rites, by 
 public opinion strong enough to change the moral qualities 
 of things, by the whole fashion and nature of Spartan cul- 
 ture, was this : ' Seek first, seek last, seek always, the glory 
 of conquering or falling in a well fought field.' 
 
 Judge, if, that night, as they watched the dawn of the last 
 morning their eyes could ever see ; as they heard with everv 
 
PIECES FOB PRACTICE. 353 
 
 f>assing hour the stilly hum of the invading host, his dusky 
 ines stretched out without end, and now almost encircling 
 them around ; as they remembered their unprofaned home, 
 city of heroes and of the mothers of heroes, — judge if watch- 
 ing there, in the gate-way of Greece, this sentiment did not 
 grow to the nature of madness, if it did not run in torrents 
 of literal fire to and from the labouring heart; and when 
 morning came and passed, and they had dressed their long 
 locks for battle, and when, at a little after noon, the countless 
 invading throng was seen at last to move, was it not with a 
 rapture, as if all the joy, all the sensation of life, was in that 
 one moment that they cast themselves, with the fierce glad- 
 ness of mountain-torrents, headlong on that brief revelry of 
 glory ? 
 
 I acknowledge the splendour of that transaction in all its 
 aspects. I admit its morality, too, and its useful influence 
 on every Grecian heart, in that greatest crisis of Greece. 
 
 And yet, do you not think, that whoso could, by adequate 
 description, bring before you that winter of the Pilgrims, its 
 brief sunshine, the nights of storm, slow waning ; the damp 
 and icy breath, felt to the pillow of the dying ; its destitu- 
 tions, its contrasts with all their former experience in life ; 
 its utter insulation and loneliness ; its death-beds and burials ; 
 its memories ; its apprehensions ; its hopes ; the consultations 
 of the prudent ; the prayers of the pious ; the occasional 
 cheerful hymn, in which the strong heart threw off its bur- 
 then, and, asserting its unvanquished nature, went up, like a 
 bird of dawn, to the skies ; — do ye not think that whoso 
 could describe them calmly waiting in that defile, lonelier 
 and darker than Therm opy las, for amorning that might never 
 dawn, or might show them, when it did, a mightier arm than 
 the Persian, raised as in act to strike, would he not sketch a 
 scene of more difficult and rarer heroism ? A scene, as 
 Wordsworth has said, 'melancholy, yea, dismal, yet consola- 
 tory and full of joy ;' a scene, even better fitted, to succour, 
 to exalt, to lead, the forlorn hopes of all great causes, till time 
 shall be no more ! 
 
 I have said that I deemed it a great thing for a nation, in 
 all the periods of its fortunes, to be able to look back to a race 
 of founders, and a principle of institution, in which it might 
 rationally admire the realized idea of true heroism. That 
 felicity, that pride, that help, is ours. Our past, with its 
 great eras, that of settlement, and that of independence, 
 should announce, should compel, should spontaneously evolve 
 as from a germ, a wise, moral, and glowing future. Those 
 30* 
 
354 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 heroic men and women should not look down on a dwindled 
 posterity. That broad foundation, sunk below frost or earth- 
 quake, should bear up something more permanent than an 
 encampment of tents, pitched at random, and struck When 
 the trumpet of march sounds at next daybreak. It should bear 
 up, as by a natural growth, a structure in which generations 
 may come, one after another, to the great gift of the Social 
 Life. 
 
 EXERCISE LVI. ADDRESS TO THE SWEDES. GustdVUS VaSCL. 
 
 [Declamation, in the form of blank verse, — as in the following 
 instance, — acquires all the additional advantage of sonorous rhythm, 
 and expansive energy of tone. The object in view, in practice, 
 should be to give the utterance full scope, but to avoid mouthing and 
 rant. The attitude and action are, here, of the boldest charac^r.J 
 
 Ye men of Sweden, wherefore are ye come ? 
 
 See ye not yonder, how the locusts swarm, 
 
 To drink the fountains of your honour up, 
 
 And leave your hills a desert ? Wretched men ! 
 
 Why came ye forth ? Is this a time for sport? 
 
 Or are ye met with song and jovial feast, 
 
 To welcome your new guests, your Danish visitants ? 
 
 To stretch your supple necks beneath their feet, 
 
 And fawning lick the dust? — Go, go, my countrymen. 
 
 Each to your several mansions, trim them out, 
 
 Cull all the tedious earnings o( your toil, 
 
 To purchase bondage. ^O, Swedes ! Swedes ! 
 
 Heavens ! are ye men, and will ye suffer this ? — 
 
 There was a time, my friends, a glorious time ! 
 
 When, had a single man of your forefathers 
 
 Upon the frontier met a host in arms, 
 
 His courage scarce had turned, himself had stood, 
 
 Alone had stood, the bulwark of his country. 
 
 Come, come ye on then ! — Here I take my stand ! 
 
 Here on the brink, the very verge of liberty ; 
 
 Although contention rise upon the clouds, 
 
 Mix heaven with earth, and roll the ruin onward, 
 
 Here will I fix, and breast me to the shock, 
 
 Till I or Denmark fall. 
 
 Approach my fellow-soldiers, your Gustavus 
 
 Claims no precedence here. 
 
 Haste, brave men ! 
 
 Collect your friends, to join us on the instant ■ 
 
pie czs J :?. ?:,:::::, . ooo 
 
 Summon our brethren to their share of conquest ;— — 
 
 Aim ie: '.yii e:r.j. :'::~ iier ::::i::.r hills. 
 Sound Freedom ! till the undulation shake 
 The bounds of utmost Sweden. 
 
 ziZ7.::5i i •-::. — rzz ?:z.t :j h:>":tz. — 5:rl;r- -~£. 
 
 ftou /ram ' As yoit 7i&? it. 9 — Speakers,— the Duke (attended,) 
 Japies, and Touchstone. — Scene, — the Forest. 
 
 [The remarks introductory to former examples of humorous dia- 
 logue, apply here, — particularly to the part of Touchstone.] 
 
 Touch. [Entering, to the Duke, <f-c] Salutation and 
 greeting to you all ! 
 
 Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome. This is the mot- 
 te -..iinded gentleman that I hare so often met in the forest : 
 he hath been a courtier, he swears. 
 
 Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my 
 purgation. I have trod a measure ; I hare flattered a lady ; 
 I have been politic, have undone three tailors ; I had four 
 quarrels, and like to have fought one. 
 
 Jaq. And how was that ta ? en up ? 
 
 Touch. 'Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was- upon 
 the sever.::. reuse. 
 
 Jaq. How seventh cause? — Good my lord, like this 
 ie.'.j-'r. 
 
 Duke. I like him very well. 
 
 Touch. God'ild you, sir: I desire you of the like I 
 press in here, sir, among the rest, to swear and to forswear, 
 with a poor damsel, sir, an ill-favoured one, — a poor humour 
 of mine, sir, to take that no man else will. But rich hon- 
 esty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house, — as your pearl 
 in afoul oyster. 
 
 Duke. By my faith, he is very swift and sententi : a 
 
 Jaq. But, for the seventh cause : — how did you find the 
 cnirrei '.:::.: :rr sever.::, revise f 
 
 N Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed: — as thus. sir. 
 I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard : he sent 
 me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the 
 mind it was : — this is called the Retort courteous. If I sent 
 him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me 
 word, he cut it to please himself: — this is called the Quip 
 modest. If again, it was not well cut. he disabled my judg- 
 ment: — this is called the Beply churlish. If again, it f raa 
 not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: — this is 
 
<$56 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 called the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, 
 he would say, I lie : — this is called the Countercheck guar- 
 relsome ; — and so to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie 
 direct. 
 
 Jaq. And how oft did you say his beard was not well 
 cut? 
 
 Touch. I durst go no farther than the Lie circumstantial, 
 nor he durst not give me the Lie direct ; and so we measured 
 swords, and parted. 
 
 Jaq. Can you nominate, in order, now, the degrees 01 
 the lie ? 
 
 Touch. Oh ! sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; as 
 you have books for good manners. I will name you the 
 degrees. The first, the Retort courteous ; the second, the 
 Quip modest; the third, the Reply churlish; the fourth, the 
 Reproof valiant ; the fifth, the Countercheck quarrelsome ; 
 the sixth, the Lie with circumstance ; the seventh, the Lie 
 direct. All these you may avoid, but the Lie direct ; and 
 you may avoid that, too, with an If — I knew when seven 
 justices could not make up a quarrel ; but when the parties 
 were met, themselves, one of them thought but of an If — as 
 1 If you said so, then I said so ;' and they shook hands, and 
 swore brothers. Your If is the only peacemaker : much 
 virtue in an If. 
 
 Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he 's as good at 
 anything, and yet a fool. 
 
 Duke. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse ; and under 
 the presentation of that he shoots his wit. 
 
 EXERCISE LVIII. THE LIBERTY OF AMERICANS IN THEIR OWN 
 
 keeping. — Hillard. 
 
 [The remarks introductory to other examples of noble and grave, 
 declamation, are all applicable to the following beautiful passage.] 
 
 Let no one accuse me of seeing wild visions, and dream- 
 ing impossible dreams. I am only stating what may be 
 done, not what will be done. We may most shamefully 
 betray the trust reposed in us, — we may most miserably 
 defeat the fond hopes entertained of us. We may become 
 the scorn of tyrants and the jest of slaves. From our fate, 
 oppression may assume a bolder front of insolence, and its 
 victims sink into a darker despair. 
 
 In that event, how unspeakable will be our disgrace,— 
 with what weight of mountains will the infamy lie upon our 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 357 
 
 touis ! — The gulf of our ruin will be as deep as the eleva- 
 tion we might have attained is high. — How wilt thou fall 
 from heaven, Lucifer, son of the morning ! Our beloved 
 country with ashes for beauty, the golden cord of our union 
 broken, its scattered fragments presenting every form of 
 misrule, from the wildest anarchy to the most ruthless des- 
 potism, our ' soil drenched with fraternal blood,' the life of 
 man stripped of its grace and dignity, the prizes of honour 
 gone, and virtue divorced from half its encouragements and 
 supports : — these are gloomy pictures, which I would not 
 invite your imaginations to dwell upon, but only to glance 
 at, for the sake of the warning lessons we may draw from 
 them. 
 
 Remember that we can have none of those consolations 
 which sustain the patriot, who mourns over the misfor- 
 tunes of his country. Our Rome cannot fall, and we be 
 innocent. No conqueror will chain us to the car of his 
 triumphs ; — no countless swarms of Huns and Goths will 
 bury the memorials and trophies of civilized life beneath a 
 living tide of barbarism. — Our own selfishness, our own 
 neglect, our own passions, and our own vices, will furnish 
 the elements of our destruction. 
 
 With our own hands we shall tear down the stately edifice 
 
 of our glory. — We shall die by self-inflicted wounds. 
 
 But we will not talk of things like these. We will not 
 think of failure, dishonour, and despair. On this day we 
 will not admit the possibility of being untrue to our fathers 
 and ourselves. We will elevate our minds to the contem- 
 plation of our high duties and the great trust committed to 
 us. We will resolve to lay the foundation of our prosperity 
 on that rock of private virtue, which cannot be shaken, until 
 the laws of the moral world are reversed. From our own 
 breasts shall flow 7 the salient springs of national increase. — 
 Then our success, our happiness, our glory, will be as inev- 
 itable as the inferences of mathematics. We may calmly 
 smile at all the croakings of the ravens, whether of native 
 or foreign breed. The whole will not grow weak by the 
 increase of its parts. Our growth will be like that of the 
 mountain oak ; which strikes its roots more deeply into the 
 soil, and clings to it, with a closer grasp, as its lofty head is 
 exalted, and its broad arms stretched out. 
 
 The loud burst of joy and gratitude, which is on this 
 day breaking from the full hearts of a mighty people, will 
 never cease to be heard. No chasm of sullen silence will 
 interrupt its course ; — no discordant notes of sectional 
 
358 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 madness, will mar the general harmony. — Year after yeai 
 will increase it, by tributes from now unpeopled solitudes. 
 The farthest West shall hear it, and rejoice. The Oregon 
 shall swell with the voice of its waters : — the Rocky 
 mountains shall fling back the glad sound from their snowy 
 crests. 
 
 EXERCISE LIX. DEATH OF LAFAYETTE. Edward Everett. 
 
 From the Eulogy, pronounced at Faneuil Hall, before the Young 
 Men of Boston. 
 
 [Funeral orations and eulogies like the following, soften the 
 tone of declamation, loiver the pitch of the voice, and render the 
 movement slow. Pathos pervades the utterance; the gesture is 
 subdued.] 
 
 On the arrival of Lafayette among you, ten years ago, — 
 when your civil fathers, your military, your children, your 
 whole population, poured itself out, as one throng, to salute 
 him, — when your cannon proclaimed his advent, with joyous 
 salvos, — and your acclamations were responded from steeple 
 to steeple, by the voice of festal bells, — with what delight did 
 you not listen to his cordial and affectionate words, — ' I beg 
 of you all, beloved citizens of Boston, to accept the respect- 
 ful and warm thanks of a heart, which has, for nearly half 
 a century, been devoted to your illustrious city !' 
 
 That noble heart, — to which, if any object on earth-^was 
 dear, that object was the country of his early choice, — of his 
 adoption, and his more than regal triumph, — that noble heart 
 will beat no more for your welfare. Cold and motionless, it 
 is already mingling with the dust. — While he lived, you 
 thronged with delight to his presence, — you gazed, with 
 admiration, on his placid features and venerable form, not 
 wholly unshaken by the rude storms of his career ; and now 
 that he is departed, you have assembled in this cradle of the 
 liberties for which, with your fathers, he risked his life, to 
 pay the last honours to his memory. 
 
 You have thrown open these consecrated portals, to admit 
 the lengthened train, which has come to discharge the last 
 public offices of respect to his name. You have hung these 
 venerable arches, for the second time since their erection, 
 with the sable badges of sorrow. You have thus associated 
 the memory of Lafayette in those distinguished honours, 
 which, but a few years since, you paid to your Adams and 
 Jefferson; and could your wishes and mine have prevailed, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 359 
 
 my lips would this day have been mute, and the same illus- 
 trious voice which gave utterance to your filial emotions over 
 their illustrious graves, would have spoken also, for you, over 
 him who shared their earthly labours, — enjoyed their friend- 
 ship, — and has now gone to share their last repose, and their 
 imperishable remembrance. 
 
 There is not throughout the world, a friend of liberty, who 
 has not dropped his head, when he has heard that Lafayette 
 is no more. Poland, Italy, Greece, Spain, Ireland, the South 
 American Republics, — every country where man is strug- 
 gling to recover his birthright, has lost a benefactor, a patron 
 in Lafayette. 
 
 But you, young men, at whose command I speak, — for 
 you, a bright and particular lodestar is henceforward fixed in 
 the front of heaven. What young man that reflects on the 
 history of Lafayette, — that sees him, in the morning of his 
 days, the associate of sages, — the friend of Washington, — 
 but will start with new vigour, on the path of duty and 
 
 renown 
 
 And what was it, fellow-citizens, which gave to our La- 
 fayette his spotless fame ? — The love of liberty. What has 
 consecrated his memory, in the hearts of good men ? — The 
 love of liberty ! What nerved his youthful arm with 
 strength, and inspired him, in the morning of his days, with 
 sagacity and counsel ? — The living love of liberty. To what 
 did he sacrifice power, and rank, and country, and freedom 
 itself? — To the horror of licentiousness; — to the sanctity of 
 plighted faith, to the love of liberty protected by law. Thus 
 the great principle of your revolutionary fathers, of your 
 pilgrim sires, the great principle of the age, was the rule of 
 his life : The love of Liberty protected by Law. 
 
 You have now assembled within these renowned walls, to 
 perform the last duties of respect and love, — on the birthday 
 of your benefactor, beneath that roof which has resounded, 
 of old, with the master voices of American renown. The 
 spirit of the departed is in high communion with the spirit 
 of the place ; — the temple worthy of the new name which 
 we now behold inscribed on its walls. 
 
 Listen, Americans, to the lesson, which seems borne to us 
 on the very air we breathe, while we perform these dutiful 
 rights. — Ye winds, that wafted the pilgrims to the lands of 
 promise, fan, in their children's hearts, the love of freedom ! 
 Blood which our fathers shed, cry from the ground ; — echo- 
 ing arches of this renowned hall, whisper back the voices 
 
360 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 of other days ; — glorious "Washington ! break the long 
 silence of that votive canvass ;* — speak, speak, marble 
 lips;* — teach us the love of Liberty protected by 
 Law! 
 
 exercise lx. — milton's lines to his father. — Translation 
 by Coivpcr. 
 
 [The tones of reverence and of tenderness, pervade the following 
 passage : their effect on the voice, is to produce a low or a high 
 note, as either predominates, — to soften and subdue the utterance, 
 and to render it slow in rate.] 
 
 No ! howsoe'er the semblance thou assume 
 Of hate, thou hatest not the gentle muse, 
 My father ! For thou never bad'st me tread 
 The beaten path, and broad, that leads right on 
 To opulence, nor didst condemn thy son 
 To the insipid clamours of the bar, 
 To laws voluminous and ill observed ; 
 But, wishing to enrich me more, to fill 
 My mind with treasure, ledst me far away 
 From city din, to deep retreats, to banks 
 And streams Aonian, and, with free consent, 
 Didst place me he»^y at Apollo's side. 
 I speak not now, oai&ore important themes 
 Intent, of common benefits, and such 
 As nature bids, but of thy larger gifts, 
 My Father ! who, when I had opened once 
 The stores of Roman rhetoric, and learned 
 The full-toned language of the eloquent Greeks, 
 Whose lofty music graced the lips of Jove, 
 Thyself didst counsel me to add the flowers 
 That Gallia boasts ; those, too, with which the smooth 
 Italian his degenerate speech adorns, 
 That witnesses his mixture with the Goth ; 
 And Palestine's prophetic songs divine. 
 To sum the whole, whate'er the heaven contains, 
 The earth beneath it, and the air between, 
 The rivers and the restless deep, may all 
 Prove intellectual gain to me, my wish 
 Concurring with thy will ; Science herself 
 All cloud removed, inclines her beauteous head, 
 
 * Referring to the portrait of Washington, and the bust of Lafayette 
 which adorn the hall. 
 
PIECES FOE PRACTICE. 361 
 
 And offers me the lip, if, dull of heart, 
 
 I shrink not, and decline her gracious boon 
 
 Go, now, and gather dross, ye sordid minds 
 That covet it ; what could my Father more ? 
 More eligible gifts than these were not ! 
 I therefore, although last and least, my place 
 Among the learned in the laurel grove 
 Will hold, and where the conqueror's ivy twines, 
 Henceforth exempt from the unlettered throng 
 Profane, nor even to be seen by such. 
 Away, then, sleepless Care, Complaint away, 
 And Envy, with thy 'jealous leer malign,' 
 Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth 
 Her venomed tongue at me. Detested foes ! 
 Ye all are impotent against my peace, 
 For I am privileged, and bear my heart 
 Safe, and too high for your viperean wound. 
 
 But thou, my Father ! since to render thanks 
 Equivalent, and to requite by deeds 
 Thy liberality, exceeds my power, 
 Suffice it, that I thus record thy gifts, 
 And bear them treasured in a grateful mind ! 
 Ye too, the favourite pastime of my youth, 
 My voluntary numbers ! if ye dare 
 To hope longevity, and to survive 
 Your master's funeral, not soon absorbed 
 In the oblivious Lethean gulf, 
 Shall to futurity perhaps convey 
 This theme, and by these praises of my sire 
 Improve the fathers of a distant age ! 
 
 EXERCISE LXI. APPEAL FOR THE REFORM BILL. Lord 
 
 Brougham. 
 
 [The prevailing tone of appeal in declamation, gives, — as in the 
 following instance, — increased earnestness and vividness of utter- 
 ance, — a more fervent lone, — and a more forcible style of action, 
 than in common declamatory harangues.] 
 
 I look upon all the growths of popular dissatisfaction, — 
 whether in the press, or in unions, in associations, or leagues 
 against the exchequer, or secret societies. — as monstrous 
 things bred out of the corruption of the present representa- 
 tion of the people. When it has been asked what has given 
 birth to them, the answer is at hand. Trust me, it is no 
 other power than that which called together the volunteers 
 31 
 
362 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 of Ireland in 1782. Trust me, it is no other than that 
 which engendered the Catholic Association. Trust me, it is 
 justice withheld, rights refused, wrongs perpetrated ; the folly 
 of believing that men can be governed against their will ; 
 the idiotcy of supposing that the inhabitants of England are 
 to be treated like the savages of the South Sea islands, — 
 the frenzy of assuming that you can govern men like chil- 
 dren or like savages. v 
 
 These it is which have peopled the country with these 
 noxious growths, — that have made the rank soil shoot up alJ 
 these prodigious things, which scare and ' fright us from our 
 propriety.' These things have been seen ; but our fears have 
 made us take a wrong course ; and instead of making us fling 
 away the parent, they have made us wage a futile, endless, 
 and fatal war with her gigantic offspring. We have been 
 going on, like those before us, in doing wrong; and our 
 unholy husbandry it is that has induced us to sow injustice, 
 and thence to reap disaffection. 
 
 My lords, I use no language of intimidation. "We stand 
 now on the brink of a great event. We are t*©w on the eve 
 of the decision of this great measure ; and it behoves you to 
 consider, when men tell you that you should not heed 
 clamours, that there is no worse folly, — that there is no 
 meaner, baser, more despicable kind of fear, than for men of 
 a frame of mind that allows the weight of reflection and the 
 power of reason, to be afraid of being accused of fear. 
 
 My lords, I am now speaking in the same hall where 
 your lordships sat in the year 1828; and in that hall, though 
 not quite in so regular manner as this, I heard the same 
 argument urged for the purpose of preventing your lord- 
 ships from liberating the Catholics. That argument did 
 prevent that liberation. It was said that it was a troublous 
 time, — that there was much clamour abroad ; — and for fear of 
 being thought to yield to intimidation you shut your ears to 
 the voice of reason. The summer passed over. Autumn 
 came on, with her fruits and her abundance ; but she 
 brought not the precious gift of domestic peace. The rage 
 of popular feeling went on ; and the election of a Catholic 
 member to sit in a protestant House of Commons took place. 
 Winter bound the earth in its chains, but it bound not the 
 sea of Irish agitation ; for its surge dashed more furiously 
 than ever against the Constitution. Then spring opened its 
 season, but unaccompanied by its wonted harmony ; for it 
 had no ethereal mildness, there being at that moment in 
 Ireland much fiercer agitation than before, and ten thousand 
 times more reason for fear, than in the preceding JVy. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 363 
 
 And what did your lordships do, when the only change 
 that had taken place in those seven or eight months, was 
 increase of tumult, augmentation of danger, and great em- 
 barrassment of all contingent circumstances ? What did 
 your lordships do ? Wisely, patriotically, firmly, you saved 
 your country ; — you refused any longer to listen to the sense- 
 less cuckoo-note of those who said, 'Do not emancipate 
 them; for, if you do, it will be through intimidation.' 
 
 But, at the same time, I am bound to say, that if you had 
 not listened to these reasons, year after year, for about the 
 twenty preceding years, that measure would have been at- 
 tended with a tenfold more beneficial effect than when, 
 blessed be God ! it did pass, through the instrumentality of 
 the noble Duke, of whom I will say, that however highly I 
 hold his military achievements, still more highly do I think 
 of his achievements in favour of the Catholics. 
 
 And now, my lords, to apply this branch of history, — for 
 history it has become, — to the present time. My lords, you 
 are now placed in this dilemma. If you refuse reform now, 
 under the foolish notion of being afraid, you may live to see 
 something of which wise men will really be afraid. You 
 may have to live among the hearts of an alienated people, — 
 you may have to live among tens of thousands who hate 
 you, — you may have to live when all men shall be leagued 
 against you ; for it is you alone that stand between them 
 and their wishes. 
 
 EXERCISE LXII. SCENE FROM THE ROSE OF ARRAGON.— 
 
 Knowles. 
 Speakers, — Ruphino, Alasco, Velasquez, Almagro and other Peasants* 
 [See remarks on previous dialogues, of serious character.] 
 
 Ruph. Where loitered you upon your journey home ? 
 Six weeks you have been gone ; ere one was past, 
 Your sister was proclaimed the Prince's wife. 
 
 Alas. I took a circuit home to see my friends, 
 And tell what I had done. 
 
 Ruph. You 're a great man 
 
 In Arragon ! 
 
 Alas. I number many friends ! 
 
 No word yet from my sister ? 
 
 Ruph. I expect 
 
 Word by Velasquez — who is he comes yonder * 
 I see but dimly ! 
 Is it Velasquez ? 
 
364 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Alas. Yes, Velasquez 'tis, 
 And looks like one who has a tale to tell. 
 [Velasquez enters hastily, — stops short on seeing Alasco* 
 How now, Velasquez ? 
 
 Velas. Are you there, Alasco ? 
 
 Alas. Yes, I am here — the matter ? 
 
 Velas. Nothing ! 
 
 Alas. Something ' 
 
 Your steps were hasty ; — did you speed ior nothing '* 
 Your breath is scanty; — was it spent for nothing* 
 Your looks imply concern ; — concern for nothing 7 
 Your road lay to my father ; — seeing me 
 You stopped, as bound to any other doo* ' 
 Was that for nothing ? Ay, — and now you stand 
 Like one that 's balked about to take a leap 
 Which he felt sure to make, — with bated crest, 
 With vigour chilled, wan cheek, and sparkless eye . 
 Do all these 'things mean nothing? — if they do, 
 Then means commotion nothing ! 
 • Velas. I would be 
 
 Alone with your father. 
 
 Alas. So I told you ! well, 
 
 You are alone with him. [Goes out.] 
 
 Ruph. What is 't, Velasquez? 
 
 Thou comest from the capital ; and thence, 
 Or I mistake, thou bringest news for me. 
 
 Velas. I do ; and therefore wished thy son away 
 For he is rash ; and galled, will take no road, 
 Save that his fury likes. 
 
 Ruph. Bring'st thou me news 
 
 Would rouse the fury of my son, Velasquez? 
 Thou mak'st me tremble : — 
 
 Heaven ! — My daughter ! 
 I knew no good could come of this avowal ! 
 The Prince has used her ill ! and, if he has, 
 Let him look to it ! Let him ! 
 
 1 thank thee, Nature ! 
 
 To have left me strength ! I yet am worth a blow ! 
 
 Velas. The Prince has done no wrong. 
 
 Ruph. God bless the Prince ! 
 
 And pardon me that I did wrong to him, 
 In thinking that he had ! the gracious Prince, 
 That ever honourably loved my child ! 
 How could I think that he could do her wrong! 
 Don't say I did so. — What 's amiss, Velasquez ' 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 365 
 
 i see 't is nothing that affects my child : 
 
 Nought can do wrong, while the good Prince is near her. 
 
 Velas. He is no longer near her. 
 
 Ruph. No ! not near her ? 
 
 My dark surmises are at work again ! 
 And yet thou sayest he has not wronged my child. 
 
 Velas. Thy child and he are wronged. 
 
 Ruph. We '11 right them, then ! 
 
 Who did it? well! 
 
 Velas. The King! 
 
 Ruph, How ? How ? 
 
 Velas. Despatched 
 
 The prince to head his armies in the north, — 
 And, when his back was turned, convoked his council, 
 And made them pass a formal act, declaring 
 The marriage of thy daughter null and void. 
 
 Ruph. His right to his throne is void, if he breaks through 
 Religion and the laws, that fence my child ! 
 There are men in Arragon ! Alasco ! Ay, — 
 I am a peasant, he is a king ! — Great odds ! — 
 But greater have grown even ! — Why, Alasco ! 
 
 Alas. [Entering.] Here, father. 
 
 Ruph. [Recollecting himself at the sight of Ids son.\ 
 Oh!— I called,— did I? 
 
 Alas. Yes. 
 
 Ruph. I did it without thinking, — well, Alasco ? 
 , Alas. Well, father? 
 
 You called me, and I know you wanted me. 
 Speak out; and do not fear my rashness, father; 
 Though there be cause for heat, I can be cool. 
 
 Ruph. Your poor sister, boy ! 
 
 Alas. What of my sister ? — Say, Velasquez, for 
 My father can't or won't. 
 
 Alma. [Enters ivith a number of other peasants.'] Alas* 
 co ! — news ! 
 
 Alas. Ay, now I '11 hear it. 
 
 Ruph. Tell it you, Velasquez ! 
 
 Let it not come from him ! He will heap fire 
 On fire. 
 
 Velas. Your sister is divorced, Alasco, 
 By edict of the men who guard the laws. 
 
 Alma. Who break the laws ! Yes, the fair Prince 
 Alonzo — 
 
 Royal Alonzo ! weary of his wife, — on pretext of command 
 31* 
 
366 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 From the King to lead his armies, — 'twas contrived, — 
 A piece of villany, at the first sight, — left her. 
 
 Ruph. Thou liest. 
 
 Alma. [Furiously.] Liest ! 
 
 Alas. Peace, Almagro! Nay, 
 
 Scowl not upon my father ! — if you are angry 
 Brow me ! 
 
 Alma. My dear Alasco ! — 
 
 Ruph. Dear ! how long ? 
 
 The Prince did never yet a double deed ! 
 I would that I could say as much for thee ! 
 
 Alma. For me ! [Furiously.] 
 
 Alas. Again ? May not an old man say 
 
 What he likes ? 
 
 Ruph. I would all young men spoke as true ! 
 
 Alas. Father ! your child is shamed ! That horrid word 
 Written on her brow, thou 'dst wish her dead ere read there : 
 Her! me ! thyself! all kith and kin thou hast! 
 And can thy breast find room for other cause 
 Of hate, reviling, or revenge ? — If it can, 
 Mine can't. 
 
 Alma. No more can mine. I have no foes 
 Save those' who wrong thy sister ! none will I have ! 
 Give me thy hand, Velasquez, and be friends. 
 
 Velas. I could be friends with him bespoke me foul ; 
 I could be friends with him that gave me blows ; 
 But with the friend who failed me in the need 
 He should and could have helped, I '11 ne'er be friends. 
 
 Alma. By Heaven ! Velasquez. [Furiously.] 
 
 Alas. Do you rage again ? 
 
 Or did I dream you do ? Friends, if not friends 
 Among yourselves, waive jars awhile for me ! 
 Who is the caitiff, be it not the man 
 Laws civil and religious cannot bind ? What should be 
 
 done to such, 
 Ay, say he wore a crown ? 
 
 Alma. He should be stripped on't,— 
 
 Caged in a mine, — yea, mulcted to the cost 
 Of his life ! 
 
 Ruph. no, — no, — no ! He should be made 
 To render back their rights to those from whom 
 He wrested them, — no more. That 's justice, sir; 
 The rest is vengeance, which belongs to Heaven, not sin* 
 ful things like men ! 
 
 Alas. We '11 master him. 
 
 Then deal with him. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 367 
 
 Ruph. My son, you will not then 
 
 Be masters of yourselves ! 
 
 Alas. No fear of us ! — 
 
 Come,- — to the villages ! and every man 
 Call out his friends, and bring them where we '11 meet 
 In one o'erwhelming mass ! 
 
 Peasants. Where ? 
 
 Alas. Let 's consult. [Entires a little with Almagro.] 
 
 Ruph. Back — back, Velasquez, as thou lovest me ! 
 Back to the capital ! find out my child ! 
 Apprize her of what 's coming ! — She may need 
 To be upon her guard. I '11 do as much 
 For thee. — Meanwhile, I '11 get me ready, friend, 
 And follow thee with all the speed I can. 
 
 [Velasquez goes out.] 
 
 Alas. Alma. At the cross ! [ The rest echo these words, 
 exclaiming,] ' At the cross ! ' 
 
 Alma. Now for redress of common grievances : — 
 Burdens should not be borne, — we '11 cast them off! 
 
 Peas. We will ! 
 
 Alas. One signal wrong does better than 
 Tocsins, my friends, to call bold men to arms ! 
 
 P* as. To arms ! 
 
 Ruph. Hear me, my boy ! Alasco ! O, my son ! — 
 
 Alas. I am thy son ; and for that very reason 
 I will not hear thee, while my sister suffers 
 An injury and a shame. — To arms ! to arms ! 
 [All except Ruphino rush out, crying, ' To arms ! to arms.'] 
 
 EXERCISE LXM.^-SPEECH ON THE REVENUE BILL OF 1933.— 
 
 Clay. 
 [See introductory remarks on preceding exercises in declamation.] 
 
 South Carolina has attempted to defeat the execution of 
 the laws of the United States. But, it seems that, undei all 
 the circumstances of the case, she has, for the present, deter- 
 mined to stop here, in order that by our legislation, we may 
 prevent the necessity of her advancing any further. 
 
 The memorable first of February is past. I confess I did 
 feel an unconquerable repugnance to legislation until that 
 day should have passed, because of the consequences that 
 were to ensue. I hoped that the day would go over well. 
 I feel, and I think that we must all confess, we breathe a 
 freer air than when the restraint was upon us. 
 
368 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 But this is not the only consideration. South Carolina 
 has practically postponed her ordinance, instead of letting it 
 go into effect, till the fourth of March. Nobody who has 
 noticed the course of events, can doubt that she will post- 
 pone it by still further legislation, if Congress should rise 
 without any settlement of this question. I was going to 
 say», my life on it, she will postpone it to a period subsequent 
 to the fourth of March. It is in the natural course of events. 
 South Carolina must perceive the embarrassments of her 
 situation. She must be desirous — it is unnatural to suppose 
 that she is not — to remain in the Union. 
 
 What ! a State whose heroes in its gallant ancestry fought 
 so many glorious battles along with those of the other States 
 of this Union, — a State with which this confederacy is 
 linked by bonds of such a powerful character ! 
 
 I have sometimes fancied what would be her condition if 
 she goes out of this Union ! if her five hundred thousand 
 people should at once be thrown upon their own resources. 
 She is out of the Union. What is the consequence ? She 
 is an independent power. What then does she do ? ' She 
 must have armies and fleets, and an expensive government 
 — have foreign missions — she must raise taxes — enact this 
 very tariff, which had driven her out of the Union, in order 
 to enable her to raise money, and to sustain the attitude of 
 an independent power. If she should have no force, no navy 
 to protect her, she would be exposed to piratical incursions. 
 Her neighbour, St. Domingo, might pour down a horde of 
 pirates on her borders, and desolate her plantations. She 
 must have her embassies, therefore must she have a revenue. 
 
 But I will not dwell on this topic any longer. I say it is 
 utterly impossible that South Carolina ever desired, for a 
 moment, to become a separate and independent State. I 
 would repeat that, under all the circumstances of the case, 
 the condition of South Carolina is only one of the elements 
 of a combination, the whole of which together, constitutes a 
 motive of action which renders it expedient to resort, during 
 the present session of Congress, to some measure, in order 
 to quiet and tranquillize the country. 
 
 If there be any who want civil war — who want to see the 
 blood of any portion of our countrymen spilt, I am not one 
 of them, — I wish to see war of no kind ; but, above all, do I 
 not desire to see a civil war. When war begins, whether 
 civil or foreign, no human foresight is competent to foresee 
 when, or how, or where it is to terminate. But when a civil 
 war shall be lighted up in the bosom of our own happy land, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 369 
 
 imd armies are marching, and commanders are winning their 
 victories, and fleets are in motion on our coast, — tell me, if 
 you can, tell me if any human being can tell, its duration? 
 God alone knows where such a war will end. In what state 
 will be left our institutions ? In what state our liberties ? I 
 want no war : above all, no war at home. 
 
 Sir, I repeat, that I think South Carolina has been rash, 
 intemperate, and greatly in the wrong ; but I do not want to 
 disgrace her, nor any other member of this Union. No ; I 
 da not desire to see the lustre of one single star dimmed of 
 that glorious confederacy which constitutes our political sun ; 
 still less do I wish to see it blotted out, and its light obliter- 
 ated forever. Has not the State of South Carolina been one 
 of the members of this Union in ' days that tried men's 
 souls ? ' Have not her ancestors fought by the side of our 
 ancestors? Have we not conjointly won many a glorious 
 battle ? 
 
 U we had to go into a civil war with such a State, how 
 would it terminate ? Whenever it should have terminated, 
 what would be her condition ? If she should ever return to 
 the Union, what would be the condition of her feelings and 
 affections, — what the state of the heart of her people ? She 
 has been with us before, when our ancestors mingled in the 
 thro.ig of battle ; and, as I hope, our prosperity will mingle 
 with hers for ages and centuries to come, in the united 
 defence of liberty; and for the honour and glory of the 
 Union, I do not wish to see her degraded, or defaced, as a 
 member of this confederacy. 
 
 In conclusion, allow me to entreat and implore each indi- 
 vidual member of this body to bring into the consideration 
 of this measure, which I have had the honour of proposing, 
 the same love of country which, if I know myself, has actu- 
 ated me ; and the same desire for restoring harmony to the 
 Union, which has prompted this effort. If we can forget for 
 a moment, — but that would be asking too much of human 
 nature, — if we could suffer, for one moment, party feeling 
 and party causes, — and, as I stand here before my God, I 
 declare I have looked beyond those considerations, and 
 regarded only the vast interests of this united people, — I 
 should hope that, under such feelings and with such disposi- 
 tions, we may advantageously proceed to the consideration 
 of this bill, and heal, before they are yet bleeding, the wounds 
 of our distracted country. 
 
37 D ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE LXIV. MEMORIALS OF WASHINGTON AND FRANK- 
 LIN. — John Quincy Adams. 
 
 From Mr. Adams' 1 speech on the reception, by Congress, of the bat* 
 tie sword of Washington, and the staff of Franklin. 
 
 [See remarks on previous examples of eulogy.] 
 
 la presenting the resolution which I am now to offer, it 
 may, perhaps, be expected that I should accompany it with 
 some suitable remarks ; and yet, sir, I never arose to address 
 this House under a deeper conviction of the want of words 
 to express the emotions that I feel. It is precisely because 
 occasions like this are adapted to produce universal sympa- 
 thy, that little can be said by any one, but what, in the lan- 
 guage of the heart, in tones not loud but deep, every one 
 present has silently said to himself. 
 
 My respected friend from Virginia, by whom this offering 
 of patriotic sentiment has been presented to the representa- 
 tive assembly of the nation, has, it seems to me, already 
 said all that can be said suitable to this occasion. In parting 
 from him, as, after a few short days, we must all do, it will, 
 on my part, be sorrowing that, in all probability, I shall see 
 his face, and hear his voice, no more. But his words of this 
 day are planted in my memory, and will there remain till 
 the last pulsation of my heart. 
 
 The sword of Washington ! The staff of Franklin ! Oh ! 
 sir, what associations are linked in adainant with these 
 names ! Washington, whose sword, as my friend has said, 
 was never drawn but in the cause of his country, and never 
 sheathed when wielded in his country's cause ! Franklin, 
 the philosopher of the thunderbolt, the printing-press, and 
 the plough-share ! — What names are these in the scanty cat- 
 alogue of the benefactors of human kind ! 
 
 Washington and Franklin ! What other two men, whose 
 lives belong to the eighteenth century of Christendom, have 
 left a deeper impression of themselves upon the age in which 
 they lived, and upon all after time ? 
 
 Washington, the warrior and the legislator! In war, 
 contending, by the wager of battle, for the independence of 
 his country, and for the freedom of the human race ; ever 
 manifesting, amidst its horrors, by precept and by example, 
 his reverence for the laws of peace, and for the tenderest 
 sympathies of humanity ; in peace, soothing the ferocious 
 spirit of discord, among his own countrymen, into harmony 
 and unior» \ and giving to that very sword, now presented to 
 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 371 
 
 his country, a charm more potent than that attributed, in 
 ancient times, to the lyre of Orpheus. 
 
 Franklin ! — The mechanic of his own fortune ; teaching, 
 in early youth, under the shackles of indigence, the way to 
 wealth, and, in the shade of obscurity, the path to greatness ; 
 in the maturity of manhood, disarming the thunder of its 
 terrors, the lightning of its fatal blast ; and wresting from 
 the tyrant's hand the still more afflictive sceptre of oppres- 
 sion : while descending into the vale of years, traversing the 
 Atlantic ocean, braving, in the dead of winter, the battle and 
 the breeze, bearing in his hand the charter of Independence, 
 which he had contributed to form, and tendering, from the 
 self-created nation to the mightiest monarchs of Europe, the 
 olive-branch of peace, the mercurial wand of commerce, and 
 the amulet of protection and safety to the man of peace, on 
 the pathless ocean, from the inexorable cruelty and merciless 
 rapacity of war. 
 
 And, finally, in the last stage of life, with fourscore win- 
 ters upon his head, under the torture of an incurable disease, 
 returning to his native land, closing his days as the chief 
 magistrate of his adopted commonwealth, after contributing 
 by his counsels, under the presidency of Washington, and 
 recording his name, under the sanction of devout prayer, 
 invoked by him to God, to that Constitution under the author- 
 ity of which we are here assembled, as the representatives 
 of the North American people, to receive, in their name and 
 for them, these venerable relics of the wise, the valiant, and 
 the good founders of our great confederated republic, — these 
 sacred symbols of our golden age. May they be deposited 
 among the archives of our government ! and every American 
 who shall hereafter behold them, ejaculate a mingled offering 
 of praise to that Supreme Ruler of the Universe, by whose 
 tender mercies our Union has been hitherto preserved, through 
 all the vicissitudes and revolutions of this turbulent world, — 
 and of prayer for the continuance of these blessings, by the 
 dispensations of Providence, to our beloved country, from 
 age to age, till time shall be no more ! 
 
372 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 EXERCISE LXV. PRINCE HENRY'S CHALLENGE TO HOTSPUR.-— 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Scene from Henry IV. Part I. — Speakers, — King Henry, Prince 
 Henry, Worcester; other lords attending. Scene, — the king's 
 camp, near Shrewsbury. 
 
 [See remarks introductory to previous examples of dramatic di»» 
 logue.] 
 
 K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
 Above yon dusky hill ! The day looks pale 
 At his distemperature. 
 
 P. Hen. The southern wind 
 
 Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, 
 And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, 
 Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, with the losers let it sympathize ; 
 For nothing can seem foul to those that win. — 
 
 [Enter Worcester.] 
 How now, my lord of Worcester? 'tis not well 
 That you and I should meet upon such terms 
 As now we meet. You have deceived our trust, 
 And made us doff our easy robes of peace, 
 To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel. 
 That is not well, my lord : this is not well. 
 What say you to 't ? Will you again unknit 
 This churlish knot of all abhorred w;ar, 
 And move in that obedient orb, again, 
 Where you did give a fair and natural' light; 
 And be no more an exhaled meteor, 
 A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
 Of broached mischief to the unborn times ? 
 
 Wor. Hear me, my liege. 
 For mine own part, I could be well content 
 To entertain the lag-end of my life ' . 
 With quiet hours ; for, I do protest, 
 I have not sought the day of this dislike. 
 
 K. Hen. You have not sought for it ! How comes it, then 
 
 Wor. It pleased your majesty, to turn your looks 
 Of favour from myself, and all our house ; 
 And yet, I must remember you, my lord, 
 We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
 For you, my staff of office did I break, 
 In Richard's time, and posted, day and night, 
 To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 373 
 
 When yet you were, in place and in account, 
 
 Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
 
 It was myself, my brother, and his son, 
 
 That brought you home, and boldly did outdare 
 
 The dangers of the time. You swore to us, — 
 
 And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, — 
 
 That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state, 
 
 Nor claim no farther than your new-fallen right, 
 
 The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
 
 To this we swore our aid. But, in short space, 
 
 It rained down fortune, showering on your head ; 
 
 And such a flood of greatness fell on you, — 
 
 What with our help, — what with the absent king,— 
 
 What with the injuries of a wanton time, — 
 
 The seeming sufferances that you had borne, 
 
 And the contrarious winds that held the king 
 
 So long in his unlucky Irish wars, 
 
 That all in England did repute him dead,— 
 
 And, from this swarm of fair advantages, 
 
 You took occasion to be quickly wooed 
 
 To gripe the general sway into your hand, — 
 
 Forgot your oath to us, at Doncaster ; 
 
 And, being fed by us, you used us so 
 
 As + hat ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
 
 Useth the sparrow, — did oppress our nest, 
 
 Grew, by our feeding to so great a bulk, 
 
 That even our love durst not come near your sight, 
 
 For fear of swallowing, but, with nimble wing 
 
 We were enforced, for safety's sake, to fly 
 
 Out of your sight, and raise this present head ; 
 
 Whereby we stand oppressed by such means 
 
 As you yourself have forged against yourself, 
 
 By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
 
 And violation of all faith and troth, 
 
 Sworn to us, in your younger enterprise. 
 
 K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated, 
 Proclaimed at market crosses, read in churches, 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 With some fine colour, that may please the eye 
 Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents, 
 Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news 
 Of hurly-burly innovation ; 
 And never yet did insurrection want 
 Such water colours, to impaint his cause, 
 32 
 
374 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 Nor moody beggars, starving for a time 
 Of peilmell havock and confusion. 
 
 P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul 
 Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, 
 If once they join in trial. — Tell your nephew, 
 The prince of Wales doth join with allthe world 
 In praise of Henry Percy. By my hopes, — 
 This present enterprise set off his head, — 
 [ do not think, a braver gentleman. 
 More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, 
 More daring, or more bold, is now alive, 
 To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
 For my part, — I may speak it to my shame, — 
 I have a truant been to chivalry; 
 And so, I hear, he doth account me too : 
 Yet this, — before my father's majesty, — 
 I am content that he shall take the odds 
 Of his great name and estimation, 
 And will, — to save the blood on either side, — 
 Try fortune with him in a single fight. 
 
 K. Hen. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thea 
 Albeit, considerations, infinite 
 Do make against it. — No, good Worcester, no : 
 We love our people well, — even those we love, 
 That are misled upon your cousin's part ; 
 And, — win, they take the offer of our grace, — 
 Both he and they, and you, yea, every man, 
 Shall be my friend, again, and I be his : 
 So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
 What he will do. — But, if he will not yield, 
 Rebuke and dread correction wait on us ; 
 And they shall do their office. So, begone : 
 We will not now be troubled with reply : 
 We offer fair, — take it advisedly. [Exit Wor.] 
 
 P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life : 
 The Douglas and the Hotspur, both together, 
 Are confident against the world in arms. 
 
 K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge ! 
 For, on their answer, will we set on them ; — 
 And God befriend us, as our cause is just! 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 375 
 
 EXERCISE LXVI. WASHINGTON'S PREPARATORY TRAINING FOR 
 
 public station. — C. W. Upham. 
 
 [An example of the style of narrative rising to the dignity of 
 history. The style, both in the composition and the external man- 
 ner, partakes of the oratorical character : the utterance is full and 
 impressive.] 
 
 Among the mountain passes of the Blue Ridge and the 
 Alleghanies, a youth is seen employed in the manly and 
 invigorating occupations of a surveyor, and awakening the 
 admiration of the hardy backwoodsmen and savage chief- 
 tains, by the strength and endurance of his frame, and the 
 resolution and energy of his character. In his stature and 
 conformation, he is a noble specimen of a man. In the vari- 
 ous exercises of muscular power, ori foot and in the saddle, 
 he excels all competitors. His admirable physical traits are 
 in perfect accordance with the properties of his mind and 
 heart ; and over all, crowning all, is a beautiful, and, in one 
 so young, a strange dignity of manners and of mien, a calm 
 seriousness, a sublime self-control, which at once compels 
 the veneration, attracts the confidence, and secures the 
 favour of all who behold him. That youth is the leader 
 whom Heaven is preparing to conduct America through her 
 approaching trial. 
 
 As we see him voluntarily relinquishing the enjoyments, 
 and luxuries, and ease, of the opulent refinement in which he 
 was born and bred, and choosing the perils and hardships of 
 the wilderness ; as we follow him, fording swollen streams, 
 climbing rugged mountains, breasting the forest storms, 
 wading through snow-drifts, sleeping in the open air, living 
 upon the coarse food of hunters and of Indians, we trace, 
 with devout admiration, the divinely-appointed education 
 he was receiving to enable him to meet and endure the 
 fatigues, exposures, and privations, of the war of Independ- 
 ence. 
 
 Soon he is called to a more public sphere of action, on the 
 same theatre; and we again follow him, in his romantic 
 adventures, as he traversed the far-off western wilderness, a 
 special messenger to the French commander on the Ohio, 
 and afterwards when he led forth the troops of Virginia in 
 the same direction, or accompanied the ill-starred Braddock 
 to the blood-stained banks of the Monongahela. Every- 
 where we see the hand of God conducting him into danger, 
 that he might extract from it the wisdom of an experience 
 not otherwise to be attained, and develope those heroic quali» 
 
376 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 ties by which alone danger and difficulty can be surmt unted, 
 but all the while covering him, as with a shield. 
 
 When we think of him, at midnight and in mid-winter, 
 thrown from a frail raft into the deep and angry waters of a 
 wide and rushing western river, thus separated from his only 
 companion through the wilderness, with no human aid for 
 miles and leagues around him, buffeting its rapid current, 
 and struggling through driving cakes of ice, — when we 
 behold the stealthy savage, whose aim, against all other 
 marks, is unerring, pointing his rifle deliberately at him, and 
 firing, over and over again, — when we see him riding 
 through showers of bullets on Braddock's fatal field, and 
 reflect that never, during his whole life, was he wounded, or 
 even touched, by a hostile force, do we not feel that he was 
 guarded by an Unseen Hand ? Yes, that sacred person was 
 guarded by an unseen hand, warding off every danger. No 
 peril by flood or by field was permitted to extinguish a life 
 consecrated to the hopes of humanity, and to the purposes 
 of heaven. 
 
 For more than sixteen years he rested from his warfare, 
 amid the shades of Mount Vernon, ripening his mind by 
 reading and reflection, increasing his knowledge of practical 
 affairs, entering into the whole experience of a citizen, at 
 home, on his farm, and as a delegate to the colonial Assem- 
 bly; and when, at last, the war broke out, and the unani- 
 mous voice of the Continental Congress invested him, as the 
 exigency required, with almost unbounded authority, as their 
 Commander-in-Chief, he blended, although still in the prime 
 of his life, in the mature bloom of his manhood, the attri- 
 butes of a sage with those of a hero. A more perfectly fitted 
 and furnished character, has never appeared on the theatre 
 of human action, than when, reining up his war-horse, be 
 neath the majestic and venerable elm, still standing at thf 
 entrance of the old Watertown road upon Cambridge Com 
 mon, George "Washington unsheathed his sword, and 
 assumed the command of the gathering armies of Amei '.can 
 Lberty. 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 377 
 
 EXERCISE LXVIII. HOTSPUR'S REPLY TO SIR WALTER BLUNT. 
 
 — Shakspeare. 
 
 From the First Part of King Henry IV. 
 
 Scene, — The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. — Speakers, — Hotspur % 
 Worcester, Douglas, Vernon, and Sir Walter Blunt. 
 
 [See remarks on previous examples of dramatic dialogue.] 
 
 Hot. We '11 fight with him to-night. 
 
 Wor. It may not be. 
 
 . Doug. You give him then advantage. - 
 
 Ver. Not a whit. 
 
 Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ? 
 
 Ver. So do we. 
 
 Hot. His is certain, — ours is doubtful. 
 
 Wor. Good cousin, be advised : stir not to-night. 
 
 Ver. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Doug. You do not counsel well : 
 
 You speak it out of fear and cold heart. 
 
 Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life, 
 (And I dare well maintain it with my life,) 
 If well-respected honour bid me on, 
 I hold as little counsel with weak fear, 
 As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives : 
 Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle, 
 Which of us fears. 
 
 Doug. Yea, or to-night* 
 
 Ver. Content. 
 
 Hot. To-night, I say. 
 
 Ver. Come, come, it may not be. 
 
 I wonder much, being men of such great leading, 
 That you foresee not what impediments 
 Drag back our expedition : certain horse 
 Of my cousin Vernon's, are not yet come up ; 
 Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day ; 
 And now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
 Their courage, with hard labour tame and dull, 
 That not a horse is half the half of himself. 
 
 Hot. So are the horses of the enemy ; 
 
 In general, journey-bated, and brought low; 
 The better part of ours is full of rest. 
 
 Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours : 
 
 For Heaven's sake, cousin, stay till all come in ! 
 32* 
 
378 ELOCUTIONIST. 
 
 [Enter Sir Walter Blunt.] 
 
 Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, 
 If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect. 
 
 Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt ; and would to Heaven 
 You were of our determination ! 
 Some of us love you well ; and even some 
 Envy your great deserving and good name, 
 Because you are not of our quality, 
 But stand against us like an enemy. 
 
 Blunt. And Heaven defend, but still I should stand so 
 So long as, out of limit, and true rule, 
 You stand against anointed majesty ! 
 But to my charge : — The king hath sent to know 
 The nature of your griefs, and whereupon 
 You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
 Such bold hostility, teaching this duteous land 
 Audacious cruelty. If that the king 
 Have any way your good deserts forgot, — 
 Which he confesseth to be manifold, — 
 He bids you name your griefs ; and, with all speed, 
 You shall have your desires, with interest, 
 And pardon absolute yourself, and these, 
 Herein misled by your suggestion. 
 
 Hot. The king is kind ; and, well we know the king 
 Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
 My father, and my uncle, and myself, 
 Did give him that same royalty he wears ; 
 And, when he was not six and twenty strong, — 
 Sick in the world's regard, wretched, and low, 
 A poor unminded outlaw, sneaking home, — 
 My father gave him welcome to the shore ; 
 And, — when he heard him swear, and vow to God 
 He came but to be duke of Lancaster, 
 To sue his livery, and beg his peace, 
 With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal,- 
 My father, in kind heart and pity moved, 
 Swore his assistance, and performed it too. 
 Now, when the lords and barons of the realm 
 Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, 
 They, more and less, came in with cap and knee : 
 Met him in boroughs, cities, villages, 
 Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, 
 Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths 
 Gave him their heirs as pages, followed him, 
 
PIECES FOR PRACTICE. 37*9 
 
 Even at the heels, in golden multitudes. 
 He presently, — as greatness shows itself, — 
 Steps me a little higher than his vow, 
 Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
 Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg ; 
 And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
 Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees. 
 That lie too heavy on the commonwealth,* — 
 Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
 Over his country's wrongs ; and by this face, 
 This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
 The hearts of all that he did angle for, — 
 Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads 
 Of all the favourites, that the absent king 
 In deputations left behind him here, 
 When he was personal in the Irish war 
 
 Blun* Tut ! I came not to hear this. 
 
 Hot Then, to the point.— 
 
 In short time after, he deposed the king ; 
 Soon after that deprived him of his life ; 
 And, in the neck of that, tasked the whole state 
 To make that worse ; suffered his kinsman Marco, 
 (Who is, if every owner were well placed, 
 Indeed his king,) to be engaged in Wales, 
 There without ransom to lie forfeited ; 
 Disgraced me in my happy victories ; 
 Sought to entrap me by intelligence ; 
 Rated my uncle from the council-board ; 
 In rage dismissed my father from the court ; 
 Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong ; 
 And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out 
 This head of safety ; and, withal, to pry 
 Into his title, the which we find 
 Too indirect for long continuance. 
 
 §lunt. Shall I return this answer to the king ? 
 
 Hot. Not so, Sir Walter : we '11 withdraw awhile. 
 Go to the king; and let there be impawned 
 Some surety for a safe return again ; 
 And in the morning early shall mine uncle 
 Bring him our purposes ; and so farewell ! 
 
380 ELOCUTIONIST 
 
 EXERCISE LXIX. CUPID'S WARNING. H. F. Gould. 
 
 [This piece is intended as a lesson in modulation. It illustrate! 
 those sudden and easy changes of voice, which belong to the tones of 
 tporlwe and sly humour.] 
 
 " Take heed ! take heed ! 
 
 They will go with speed, 
 For I 've just new strung my bow : 
 My quiver is full ; and, if oft I pull, 
 Some arrow may hit, you know." 
 
 " Oh ! pull away," 
 
 Did the maiden say, 
 " For who is the coward to mind 
 A shaft that 's flung by a boy so young,— 
 When both of his eyes are blind ? '' 
 
 His bow he drew, 
 
 And the shafts they flew, 
 Till the maiden was heard to cry, • 
 
 " Oh ! take this dart from my aching heart, 
 Dear Cupid, or else I die ! " 
 
 He said, — and smiled, — 
 
 " I 'm but a child, 
 And should have no skill to find, 
 E 'en with both my eyes, where the dart now lies 
 Then you know, fair maid, I'm blind! 
 
 But pray, be calm, 
 
 And I '11 name a balm 
 That 's brought by an older hand, 
 And I 'm told is sure these wounds to cure : 
 'T is Hymen applies the band. 
 
 Now I must not stay, — 
 
 I must haste away, — 
 For my mother has bid me try 
 These fluttering things, my glistening wings, 
 Which she tells me were made to fly ! " 
 
 END. 
 

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