Class _EiA^tiU 
 
 Book 
 
 v- 
 
ANALYSIS 
 
 OF THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 
 
 (2- 
 
 RHETORICAL DELIVERY 
 
 AS APPLIED IN 
 
 READING AND SPEAKING. 
 
 BY EBENEZER PORTER, D. D. 
 Bartlet Professor of Sacred Rhetoric in Theol. Seminary, Andover. 
 
 ANDOVER : 
 
 Vf- 
 
 PUBLISHED BY MARK NEWMAN ; HILLIARD, GRAY, & CO. BOSTON; 
 AND J. LEAVITT, 182, BROADWAY, NEWYORK. 
 
 Flagg & Gonld....printers. 
 
 1827. 
 
I 
 
 .A 
 
 DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, to wit 
 
 •, District Clerk's Office. 
 
 Be it remembered, that on the fifteenth day of March, A. D. 18-27, in the fifty 
 first year of the Independence of the United States of America, Mark Newman, of 
 the said district, has deposited in thi6 office the title of a book, the right whereof he 
 claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit. — " Analysis of the principles 
 of Rhetorical Delivery, as applied in Reading and Speaking. By Ebenezer Porter, 
 D. D. Bartlet Professor of Sacred Rhetoric in the Theological Seminary, Andover." 
 In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An Act for 
 the encouragement of Learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to 
 the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned:" 
 and also to an Act entitled, " An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, An Act for 
 the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to 
 the proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned ; and extending 
 the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and 
 other prints." T r»uv w nAvr« \ Clerk of the District 
 
 JOHN W. V*Vte,\ ofMas£ackusetts . 
 
 Aft 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Delivery is but a part of rhetoric ; and rhetoric, in 
 the common acceptation of the term, is but a part of the 
 business in which I am called to give instruction. The 
 great purpose of my office is, to teach young men, who 
 are preparing for the sacred ministry, how to preach the 
 gospel. In pursuance of this purpose, it became my du- 
 ty to give a course of lectures on eloquence generally, 
 and more particularly on style ; and another course on 
 preaching, including the history of the pulpit, the struc- 
 ture and chief characteristics of sermons, and the person- 
 al qualities requisite in the Christian preacher. Besides 
 the study demanded in traversing a field so important, and 
 so unfrequented, at least in this country ; the necessity of 
 combining individual with classical instruction in this de- 
 partment, makes its labors more than sufficient to engross 
 the time of one man. 
 
 In these circumstances, it may seem strange that I 
 should turn aside from higher duties, to publish a book, 
 more adapted to the earlier stages of education than to 
 that which is directly preparatory to the ministry. The 
 truth is, that I have been gradually and almost unavoida- 
 bly drawn into this measure. 
 
 As an instructor of theological students, my attention 
 was, many years ago, called to some prevalent defects in 
 delivery. These I ascribed chiefly to early habits, con- 
 tracted in the schools ; and to the want of adequate pre- 
 cepts in books on reading and speaking. The worst 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 faults iii elocution, originate in want of feeling. But 
 when these faults become confirmed, no degree of feeling 
 will fully counteract their influence without the aid of an- 
 alysis, and patient effort to understand and correct them. 
 Still, in this process of correction, there is danger of run- 
 ning into formality of manner, by withdrawing the atten- 
 tion from that in which the soul of eloquence consists, — 
 emotion. For the purpose of guarding against this ten- 
 dency, and at the same time of accomplishing the ends at 
 which Walker aims, in his Elements of Elocution, I have 
 much desired to see a manual for students, free both 
 from the obscurity and the extreme particularity of his 
 system. 
 
 In the winter of 1821 during a necessary absence 
 from the Theological Seminary, on account of health, I 
 addressed to the students a number of letters on elocu- 
 tion. The plan of these letters* required them to em- 
 brace all the subjects included in this publication, and be- 
 sides these, the following ; — the importance to a preach- 
 er of a good delivery ; necessity of earnestness in his 
 manner; causes which influence his intellectual and mor- 
 al habits ; the influence of personal piety on the preach- 
 er's eloquence ; circumstances of the age, which are un- 
 favorable, and those which are favorable to the cultiva- 
 tion of eloquence ; the utility of preparatory exercises, 
 with hints of advice relative to these ; preservation of 
 lungs, and the mistakes that are often fatal to this organ 
 in public speakers ; pronunciation as restricted to single 
 words ; and management of voice in public prayer. 
 
 One of these papers, that on inflections, was since 
 committed to the press ; and, though not intended to be 
 
 * Some of them I have since thrown into Lectures, with enlargement. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 published, yet, having been circulated to a considerable 
 extent, some respectable individuals requested that I would 
 enlarge and reprint this pamphlet, and others, that I would 
 publish a book, for the use of Colleges, and of students 
 generally who are forming their habits of elocution. In 
 this wish the Rhetorical Society in the Theological Sem- 
 inary united ; and their committee addressed letters to 
 several of the Presidents of Colleges and to other gentle- 
 men, to ascertain whether such a publication was deem- 
 ed necessary, by those who are most interested in the sub- 
 ject. In reply to this enquiry, a concurrent opinion was 
 expressed, that our Seminaries of learning greatly need 
 a work on Elocution, different in many respects from any 
 thing hitherto published ; and a concurrent wish that I 
 should proceed in the preparation of such a work, was 
 also expressed, though with different degrees of interest 
 by different gentlemen. 
 
 I have been the more ready to engage in this under- 
 taking, from the conviction that, whatever aid it may ren- 
 der to Instructors of our Academical Seminaries, and 
 whatever useful influence it may have on the pupils of 
 these Seminaries, will be a clear gain in my own official 
 duties, in respect to such of these pupils as may afterward 
 come under my instruction. The fewer bad habits are 
 carried from elementary schools to the college, and from 
 the college to professional studies, the easier, at each stage, 
 becomes the progress of improvement. And the more 
 deeply the spirit of improvement in Elocution takes hold 
 of young men, in our literary institutions, the greater will 
 be their annual contribution of eloquent men for the pul- 
 pit, as well as for secular professions. The fifteen years 
 in which I have been connected with a Theological Sem- 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 inary, which receives its members from all the Colleges, 
 have enabled me to observe, as I have done with much 
 satisfaction, a gradual and growing advance, in our edu- 
 cated young men, as to the spirit of delivery. This ad- 
 vance has been especially obvious since several of these 
 Colleges have had able Professors of Rhetoric and Ora- 
 tory, a department of instruction in which it is presumed 
 none of them can much longer remain deficient, consis- 
 tently with the claims of public opinion. 
 
 Had I been fully aware of the labor it w T ould require 
 to select the examples, and apply the notation, in the first 
 part of the Exercises, I should have been deterred from 
 the undertaking. With much pleasure I acknowledge my 
 obligations to Mr. George Howe and Mr. Samuel C. 
 Jackson, for the important assistance they have rendered, 
 especially in correcting the press, and selecting pieces for 
 the second part of the Exercises. This assistance has 
 been the more necessary on account of my infirm health, 
 and the urgency of official duties. 
 
 I only add two remarks here. One is, that I consid- 
 er this little book as an txperiment, on a subject environ- 
 ed with difficulty, both from the inadequate attention it has 
 hitherto received, in our systems of education, and from 
 the prevalence of conflicting tastes respecting it. The 
 other is, that, having transferred all pecuniary concern in 
 this publication to the Rhetorical Society abovemention- 
 ed, I have no personal interest in its success, beyond the 
 hope that it may, in some degree, promote the purposes 
 to which my life is devoted. 
 
 Theological Seminary, 
 Andover. March. 1827. 
 
DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 To those who may use this book, I have thought it pro- 
 per to make the following preparatory suggestions. 
 
 1. In a large number of those who are to be taught 
 reading and speaking, the first difficulty to be encountered 
 arises from bad habits previously contracted. The most 
 ready way to overcome these, is to go directly into the anal- 
 ysis of vocal sounds, as they occur in conversation. But to 
 change a settled habit, even in trifles, often requires perse- 
 verance for a long time ; of course it is not the work of a 
 moment to transform a heavy, uniform manner of delivery, in- 
 to one that is easy, discriminating, and forcible. This is to 
 be accomplished, not by a few irresolute, partial attempts ; 
 but by a steadiness of purpose and of effort, corresponding 
 with the importance of the end to be achieved. Nor should 
 it seem strange if in this process of transformation, the sub- 
 ject of it should at first appear somewhat artificial and con- 
 strained in manner. More or less of this inconvenience is 
 unavoidable in all important changes of habit. The young 
 pupil in chirography never can become an elegant penman, 
 till his bad habit of holding his pen is broken up ; though 
 for a time the change may make him write worse than be- 
 fore. In respect to Elocution, as well as every other art, 
 the case may be in some measure similar. But let the new 
 manner become so familiar, as to have in its favour the ad- 
 vantages of habit, and the difficulty ceases. 
 
 2. The pupil should learn the distinction of inflections 
 by reading the familiar examples under one rule, occasion- 
 ally turning to the Exercises, when more examples are ne- 
 
VIII DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 cessary ; and the Teacher's voice should set him right 
 whenever he makes a mistake. In the same manner he 
 should go through all the rules successively. If he acquires 
 the habit of giving too great or to little extent to his slides 
 of voice, he should be carefully corrected, according to the 
 suggestions given, p. 43, 50, 51, and 88. — After getting the 
 command of the voice, the great point to be steadily kept 
 in view, is to apply the principles of emphasis and inflection, 
 just as nature and sentiment demand. In respect to those 
 principles of modulation in which the power of delivery so 
 essentially consists, we should always remember too, that, 
 as no theory of the passions can teach a man to be pathetic, 
 so no description that can be given of the inflection, em- 
 phasis, and tones which accompany emotion, can impart 
 this emotion, or be a substitute for it. No adequate des- 
 cription indeed can be given of the nameless and ever vary- 
 ing shades of expression, which real pathos gives to the 
 voice. Precepts here are only subsidiary helps to genius 
 and sensibility. 
 
 3. Previous attention should be given to any example 
 or exercise, before it is read to the Teacher. At the time 
 of reading, the student should generally go through, with- 
 out interruption ; and then the Teacher should explain any 
 fault, and correct it by the example of his own voice, re- 
 quiring the parts to be repeated. It would be useful often 
 to enquire why such a modification of voice occurs, in such 
 a place, and how a change of structure would vary the in- 
 flection, stress, &c. When the examples are short, as in 
 all the former part of the work, reference may easily be 
 made to any sentence ; and in most of the long examples, 
 the lines are numbered, on the left hand of the page, to fa- 
 cilitate the reference, after a passage has been read. 
 
 4. When any portion of the Exercises is committed to 
 memory for declamation, it should be perfectly committed, 
 
DIRECTIONS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 before it is spoken ; as any labor of recollection is certainly 
 fatal to freedom, and variety, and force in speaking. In 
 general, it were well that the same piece should be subse- 
 quently once or more repeated, with a view to adopt the 
 suggestions of the Instructer. The selected pieces are 
 short, because, for the purpose of improvement in elocution, 
 a piece of four or five minutes is better than one of fifteen. 
 And more advance may be made in managing the voice 
 and countenance by speaking, several times, a short speech, 
 though an old one, like that of Brutus on the death of Cae- 
 sar, (if it is done with due care each time to correct what 
 was amiss,) than in speaking many long pieees, however 
 spirited or new, which are but half committed, and in the 
 delivery of which all scope of feeling and adaptation of man- 
 ner, are frustrated by labor of memory. The attempt to 
 speak with this indolent, halting preparation, is in all res- 
 pects worse than nothing. 
 
o 
 
 KEY OF INFLECTION. 
 
 - denotes monotone. 
 
 ' rising inflection. ( 00 ) 
 
 v falling inflection. ( ) 
 
 <-> circumflex. ( 00 ) 
 
 (•) 
 
 (id 
 
 KEY OF MODULATION. 
 
 (°) high. 
 
 high and loud. 
 
 low. 
 
 low and loud. 
 
 slow. 
 
 rhetorical pause. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 CHAP. I. Reading : its connexion with speaking ... 13 
 
 Correct reading 14 
 
 Rhetorical reading » 15 
 
 Difficulties from the genius of written language ib. 
 
 All directions subsidiary to expression of feeling 18 
 
 CHAP. II. Articulation . 20 
 
 Sect. 1. Importance of a good articulation ib. 
 
 Sect. 2. Causes of defective articulation 23 
 
 Difficulty of many consonant sounds .... 25 
 
 Immediate succession of similar sounds ... 27 
 
 Influence of accent 28 
 
 Tendency to slide over unaccented vowels . . 29 
 
 Cautions . 30 
 
 Impediments 32 
 
 CHAP. III. Tones and Inflections 34 
 
 Sect. 1. Tones considered as a language of emotion . . ib. 
 Sect. 2. Utility of systematic attention to Tones and In- 
 flections 35 
 
 Sect. 3. Description of Inflections . 42 
 
 Sect. 4. Classification of Inflections 45 
 
 Rule I. Influence of disjunctive or on Inflection ... 47 
 
 Rule II. Of the Direct Question and its Answer . . . ib. 
 
 Rule III. Of Negation opposed to Affirmation .... 49 
 
 Rule IV. Of the Pause of Suspension 51 
 
 Rule V. Of the influence of Tender Emotion on the voice 54 
 
 Rule VI. Of the Penultimate Pause 55 
 
 Rule VII. Of the Indirect Question and its Answer . . 56 
 
 Rule VIII. The language of Authority and of Surprise . 57 
 
 Rule IX. Emphatic succession of particulars .... 60 
 
 Rule X. Emphatic Repetition 62 
 
 Rule XI. Final Pause 63 
 
 Rule XII. The Circumflex 65 
 
 CHAP. IV. Accent 66 
 
 CHAP. V. Emphasis 69 
 
XII CONTENTS. 
 
 Sect. 1. Emphatic Stress 71 
 
 Absolute Emphatic Stress 76 
 
 Antithetic or Relative Emphatic Stress ... 78 
 
 Sect. 2. Emphatic Inflection 80 
 
 Emphatic Clause 88 
 
 Double Emphasis 91 
 
 CHAP. VI. Modulation 92 
 
 Sect. 1. Faults of Modulation ib. 
 
 Monotony ib. 
 
 Mechanical Variety 93 
 
 Sect. 2. Remedies 95 
 
 The spirit of Emphasis to be cultivated . . . ib. 
 
 A habit of discrimination as to Tones & Inflection 99 
 
 Sect. 3. Pitch of voice. 103 
 
 Sect. 4. Quantity 106 
 
 Strength of voice important to a public speaker 107 
 
 Depends on good organs of speech . . 108 
 
 And on the proper exercise of these organs 109 
 
 Directions for preserving and strengthening them ] 10 
 
 Rate of utterance 112 
 
 Sect. 5. Rhetorical Pause 114 
 
 Sect. 6. Compass of voice 118 
 
 Sect. 7. Transition 120 
 
 Sect. 8. Expression 125 
 
 Sect. 9. Representation 128 
 
 Sect. 10. The Reading of Poetry 133 
 
 Remarks on the reading of Psalms and Hymns in 
 
 the pulpit 138 
 
 CHAP. VII. Rhetorical Action 144 
 
 PART I. Principles of Rhetorical Action x. 146 
 
 Sect. 1. Action as significant from nature ib. 
 
 Expression of countenance ib. 
 
 Attitude and mien 148 
 
 Sect. 2. Action considered as significant from custom . 151 
 PART II. Faults of Rhetorical Action . . . . . .152 
 
 Sources of these, viz. personal defects, diffi- 
 dence, imitation ib. 
 
 Mismanagement of the eye and of attitude . 155 
 
CONTENTS. XIII 
 
 Gesture may want appropriateness and discri- 
 mination 158 
 
 May be too constant, or violent, or complex, or 
 
 uniform 160 
 
 Mechanical variety 162 
 
 EXERCISES. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Remarks and Directions 167 
 
 EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 
 Exercises 1, 2, 3 _. 169 
 
 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 
 
 Exercise 4. Disjunctive or 170 
 
 5. Direct Question &c . . 171 
 
 6. Conjunctive or 174 
 
 7. Negation opposed to Affirmation . . . . . ib. 
 
 8. Comparison and Contrast 176 
 
 9. Pause of Suspension 180 
 
 10. Tender Emotion 187 
 
 12. Indirect Question &c. . 189 
 
 ■ ■ 13. Language of Authority, Surprise, &c . . . .193 
 ' 14. Emphatic Succession &c 199 
 
 15. Emphatic Repetition ......... 203 
 
 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 
 Exercise 19, 20, 21, 22. Absolute and Relative stress, and 
 
 Emphatic Inflection ... ..... 205 
 
 — — 23. Difference between common and intensive In- 
 flection ' 226 
 
 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 Exercise 24. Compass of Voice 227 
 
 25. Transition 232 
 
 The Power of Eloquence ib. 
 
 Hohenlinden 234 
 
 Hamlet's Soliloquy 235 
 
 Battle of Waterloo 236 
 
 Negro's Complaint .......... 238 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Marco Bozzaris 240 
 
 Extract from Paradise Lost . 242 
 
 Exercise 26. Expression 243 
 
 Judah's Speech to Joseph ib. 
 
 Joseph disclosing himself 244 
 
 Death of a friend 246 
 
 The Sabbath ib. 
 
 Burial of Sir John Moore 248 
 
 Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise 249 
 
 Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle 250 
 
 27. Representation 251 
 
 Examples from the Bible ib. 
 
 The siege of Calais 256 
 
 Extract from a sermon of R. Robinson . . . 253 
 
 28. Devotional Poetry 259 
 
 Extracts from the Psalms and Hymns of Watts 260 
 Missionary Hymn 266 
 
 EXERCISES. 
 
 PART II. 
 FAMILIAR PIECES. 
 
 Hamlet's instruction to Players 267 
 
 The dead Mother 268 
 
 The Temptation 269 
 
 Partiality of Authors 270 
 
 What is Time? .271 
 
 Ruth and Naomi 272 
 
 Influence of Education, Constitution, &c. in forming Character ib. 
 
 Death of Absalom 274 
 
 Hamlet and Horatio 275 
 
 An idea of faith impressed on a Child 278 
 
 Conversation 279 
 
 Conversation ib. 
 
 Lady Percy to her Husband 281 
 
 The exercise of the Memory in learning not Sufficient . . 282 
 
 Report of an adjudged Case 283 
 
 Fitz James and Roderick Dhu 284 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Address to the Mummy 285 
 
 Othello and Iago 287 
 
 Macduff 289 
 
 William Tell 290 
 
 Nathan's Parable 295 
 
 Harmony among Brethren .... * ib. 
 
 Harley's Death 297 
 
 To-Morrow - 299 
 
 SECULAR ELOaUENCE. 
 
 The Perfect Orator 301 
 
 Character of True Eloquence 302 
 
 The Pilgrims ib. 
 
 The Progress of Poesy 305 
 
 Darkness . 306 
 
 The Slave Trade . . . . 308 
 
 Dream of Clarence 310 
 
 Moral Sublimity 312 
 
 Character of Brutus 313 
 
 Conclusion of Webster's Plymouth Discourse 315 
 
 Address to the Patriots of the Revolution 316 
 
 Brutus' Speech 317 
 
 Chatham's Speech 318 
 
 Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis 320 
 
 Pitt's Reply to Walpole 322 
 
 Speech of Mr. Griffin against Cheetham 324 
 
 Thunderstorm 326 
 
 Slavery 327 
 
 Irruption of Hyder Ali 328 
 
 Apostrophe to Sleep 330 
 
 Vanity of Power and Misery of Kings . . • ib. 
 
 Reproof of the Irish Bishops 331 
 
 Speech on the Greek Revolution 333 
 
 Character of Hamilton 334 
 
 State of the French Republic 336 
 
 Cicero for Cluentius 338 
 
 Extract from Demosthenes 340 
 
 Brougham's Speech on the Speech of the Duke of York . . 342 
 
 Dangers which beset the literature of the age 344 
 
 Tribute to Henry Kirk White 346 
 
XTI CONTENTS. 
 
 SACRED ELOQUENCE. 
 
 Defence of Pulpit Eloquence 347 
 
 The Blind Preacher 350 
 
 Joel 2: 1 — 11 352 
 
 2 Samuel 1: 17—27 353 
 
 Revelation 354 
 
 Daniel 9: 3—19 355 
 
 Success of the Gospel 356 
 
 The events of Providence promotive of the end of Missions . 358 
 
 The Hatefulness of War 359 
 
 The Preservation of the Church 36 L 
 
 Obligations to the Pilgrims 363 
 
 A Future State 364 
 
 Present facilities for Evangelizing the world Compared with 
 
 those of Primitive times 365 
 
 Civilization Merely ineffectual to Convert the World . . . 367 
 
 The forebodings of heathen approaching death 369 
 
 The efficacy of the Cross 370 
 
 The Fall of Niagara 373 
 
 Reform in Morals ib. 
 
 Universal spread of the Bible 375 
 
 Isaiah 13: 14: 1—23 378 
 
 Eternity of God 383 
 
 Epitaph on Mrs. Mason t>85 
 
 Skepticism . ib. 
 
 The Atheist 387 
 
 Duelling v .... 388 
 
 Character of the Puritans 390 
 
 An enlightened Ministry . 393 
 
 Prayer 394 
 
 Gray's Elegy 395 
 
 Obligation to the heathen 397 
 
 Infatuation of men with regard to things of time .... 399 
 
 Death of Hamilton 401 
 
 The Crucifixion 402 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 HEADING. ITS CONNEXION WITH SPEAKING. 
 
 Delivery, in the most general sense, is the commu- 
 nication of our thoughts to others, by oral language* The 
 importance of this, in professions where it is the chief in- 
 strument by which one mind acts on others, is so obvious 
 as to have given currency to the maxim, that an indiffer- 
 ent composition well delivered, is better received in any 
 popular assembly, than a superior one, delivered badly. 
 In no point is public sentiment more united than in this, 
 that the usefulness of one whose main business is public 
 speaking, depends greatly on an impressive elocution. 
 This taste is not peculiar to the learned or the ignorant ; 
 it is the taste of all men. 
 
 But the importance of the subject, is by no means 
 limited to public speakers. In this country, where lite- 
 rary institutions of every kind are springing up ; and 
 where the advantages of education are open to all, no 
 one is qualified to hold a respectable rank in well-bred 
 society, who is unable at least to read, in an interesting 
 manner, the works of others. They who regard this as 
 
 2 
 
14 READING. 
 
 a polite accomplishment merely, forget to how many pur- 
 poses of business, of rational entertainment, and of reli- 
 gious duty, the talent may be applied. Of the multitudes 
 who are not called to speak in public, including the whole 
 of one sex, and all but comparatively a few of the other, 
 there is no one to whom the art of reading in a graceful 
 and impressive manner, may not be of great value. 
 
 Besides, as the prevalent faults of public speakers 
 arise chiefly from early habits contracted in reading, the 
 correction of those faults should begin by learning to read 
 well. 
 
 Reading then, like style, may be considered as of two 
 sorts, the correct, and the rhetorical. 
 
 Correct reading respects merely the sense of what is 
 read. When performed audibly, for the benefit of others, 
 it is still only the same sort of process which one performs 
 silently, for his own benefit, when he casts his eye along 
 the page, to ascertain the meaning of its author. The 
 chief purpose of the correct reader is to be intelligible ; 
 and this requires an accurate perception of grammatical 
 relation in the structure of sentences ; a due regard to 
 accent and pauses, to strength of voice, and clearness of 
 utterance. This manner is generally adopted in reading 
 plain, unimpassioned style, such as that which we find to 
 a considerable extent in those Psalms of David, and Pro- 
 verbs of Solomon, where the sentences are short, without 
 emphasis. It often prevails too in the reading of narra- 
 tive, and of public documents in legislative and judicial 
 transactions. The character and purpose of a composi- 
 tion may be such, that it would be as preposterous to read 
 it with tones of emotion, as it would to announce a pro- 
 
READING. 15 
 
 position in grammar or geometry, in the language of me- 
 taphor. But though merely the correct manner, suits 
 many purposes of reading, it is dry and inanimate, and is 
 the lowest department in the province of delivery. Still 
 the great majority, not to say of respectable men, but of 
 bookish men, go nothing beyond this in their attainments 
 or attempts. 
 
 Rhetorical reading has a higher object, and calls into 
 action higher powers. It is not applicable to a composi- 
 tion destitute of emotion, for it supposes feeling. It does 
 not barely express the thoughts of an author, but express- 
 es them with the force, variety, and beauty, which feel- 
 ing demands. And just here it is that the most stubborn 
 difficulty in elocution meets us ; — a difficulty arising from 
 the genius of written language. 
 
 The value of the graphic art consists in its being a 
 medium for the acquisition of knowledge, and for the 
 communication of it. In the former case, I refer to the 
 use we make of language in silent reading. The facility 
 with which this is done depends on our acquaintance with 
 the characters of which w T ords are formed ; the meaning 
 of words, singly ; and the principles which govern their 
 combination in sentences. Our eye may glance over a. 
 page in our own tongue, so as to perceive all its meaning, 
 in the same time that would be employed on a short sen- 
 tence of a language, which we are oniy beginning to learn. 
 But in silent reading, though the eye perceives at a look 
 the, form and meaning of words, it cannot perceive the 
 meaning of sentences, without including also grammatical 
 relation. Hence points or pauses are indispensable in 
 the graphic art, as designed merely for the eye. We 
 
16 READING. 
 
 may take as an example the celebrated response of the 
 Oracle ; 
 
 Ibis ct redibis nunquam peribis iu bello- 
 
 The eye has no means of judging whether the meaning 
 is, you shall never return, or you shall never perish, unless 
 a pause is inserted before or after nunquam, to determine 
 with which verb it is grammatically connected. 
 
 So far the principles of written language go ; — they 
 embrace words and pauses, and here stop. But the mo- 
 ment we come to transform this written language into 
 oral, by reading aloud, a new set of principles come in 
 with their claims, for which the arts of writing and of 
 printing have made no provision. Here the reader be- 
 comes a speaker, and is required to mark with his voice 
 the degrees of emphatic stress, and all the varieties of 
 pitch, quantity of sound, and rate of utterance which sen- 
 timent demands. But he is trammelled with the narrow- 
 ness of language as presented to the eye. He has been 
 accustomed to regard words and pauses only, and all the 
 movements of his voice are adjusted accordingly. You 
 may tell him that he has a tone, but he knows not what 
 you mean. Tell him to be natural, — to be in earnest, 
 and you have given him an excellent direction indeed, 
 but how to apply it to the case in hand, is the difficulty. 
 He is more rapid perhaps, or more loud, for this admoni- 
 tion, but under the dominion of inveterate habit, he goes 
 on with his tone still. 
 
 To the above defect in the art of printing, let another 
 fact be added, that a great proportion of language, as it 
 appears in books, neither demands nor admits any variety 
 of tones and emphasis ; and another still, that, in most 
 
READING. 17 
 
 men, habits of voice, once established, cannot be changed 
 without great and persevering efforts ; and it will not seem 
 strange that the number of good readers is so small, even 
 among educated and professional men. British writers 
 have constantly complained of the dull, formal manner in 
 which the Liturgy and the sacred Scriptures are read in 
 their churches. And often, in the pulpits of this country, 
 the reading of the Bible is apparently so destitute, not of 
 feeling and devotion merely, but of all just discrimination, 
 as to remind one of the question put by Philip to the no- 
 bleman of Ethiopia ; " Understandest thou what thou 
 readest ?" 
 
 When we consider the extent to which these faults 
 prevail in rhetorical reading, and the correspondent faults 
 which of course prevail in public speaking, it is time that 
 this greatly neglected subject should receive its due share 
 of attention, amid the general advances in other depart- 
 ments of literature and taste. 
 
 Now, if there could at once spring up in our country 
 a supply of teachers, competent, as living models, to reg- 
 ulate the tones of boys, in the forming age, — nothing 
 more would be needed. But, to a great extent, these 
 teachers are to be themselves formed. And to produce 
 the transformation which the case demands, some attempt 
 seems necessary to go to the root of the evil, by incorpo- 
 rating the principles of spoken language with the written. 
 Not that such a change should be attempted in respect to 
 books generally ; but in books of elocution, designed for 
 this single purpose, visible marks may be employed, suf- 
 ficient to designate the chief points of established corres- 
 pondence between sentiment and voice. These princi- 
 
IS READING. 
 
 pies being well settled in the mind of the pupil, may be 
 spontaneously applied, where no such marks are used. 
 
 But as this subject is to be resumed under the head 
 of inflections, I drop it here, with a remark or two in pas- 
 sing. 
 
 Be it remembered then, that all directions as to man- 
 agement of the voice, must be regarded as subsidiary to 
 expression of feeling, or they are worse than useless. 
 ' Emotion is the thing. One flash of passion on the 
 cheek, one beam of feeling from the eye, one thrilling 
 note of sensibility from the tongue, — have a thousand 
 times more value than any exemplification of mere rules, 
 where feeling is absent.'* The benefit of analysis and 
 precept is, to aid the teacher in making the pupil conscious 
 of his own faults, as a prerequisite to their correction. 
 The object is to unfetter the soul, and set it free to act. 
 In doing this a notation for the eye, designed to regulate 
 the voice in a few obvious particulars, may be of much 
 advantage : otherwise why shall we not dismiss punctua- 
 tion too from books, and depend wholly on the teacher for 
 pauses, as well as tones ? 
 
 The reasonable prejudice which some intelligent men 
 have felt against any system of notation, arises from the 
 preposterous extent to which it has been carried by a few 
 popular teachers, and especially by their humble imitators. 
 A judicious medium is what we want. Five characters 
 in music, and six vowels in writing, enter into an infinitude 
 of combinations in melody and language. So the elemen- 
 tary modifications of voice in speaking are few, and easily 
 
 * Knowles. 
 
READING. 19 
 
 understood ; and to mark them, so far as distinction i? 
 useful, does not require a tenth part of the rules, which 
 some have thought necessary. 
 
 The intellectual and moral qualities indispensable to 
 form an orator, are brought into view in the following pa- 
 ges, no farther than they modify delivery. The parts of 
 external oratory, as voice, look, and gesture, are only in- 
 struments by which the soul acts ; — when the inspiration 
 of soul is absent, these instruments cannot produce elo- 
 quence. A treatise on delivery then, must presuppose 
 the existence of genius, mental discipline, and elevation 
 of moral sentiment ; — though a distinct consideration of 
 these belongs to rhetoric, as a branch of intellectual and 
 Christian philosophy. 
 
 The parts of delivery, to be considered in their order, 
 are, — articulation, inflection, accent and empha- 
 sis, MODULATION, AND ACTION. 
 
 I premise here, once for all, that I employ terms ac- 
 cording to the best modern use, with as little as possible 
 of technical abstractness. Elocution, which anciently em- 
 braced style and the whole art of rhetoric, now signifies 
 manner of delivery, whether of our own thoughts or those 
 of others. Pronunciation, which anciently signified the 
 whole of delivery, is now equivalent to orthoepy, or the 
 proper utterance of single words. It were easy, by a 
 critical disquisition, to trace out the etymological affinities 
 of all these terms, and to teach the pupil a distinction be- 
 tween an orator, and an eloquent man, between articula- 
 tion, and distinct enunciation of words &e ; but instead of 
 the scientific air adopted in some works on elocution, it 
 seems to me that the better because the simpler course is 
 
20 READING. 
 
 to use words as they will be most readily understood by 
 men of reading and taste. 
 
 In this view I have chosen to make the head of Mod- 
 ulation so generic, as to include pitch, quantity, rate, rhe- 
 torical pause, transition, expression, and representation. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 ARTICULATION. 
 
 Graiis dedit ore rotundo 
 
 Musa loqui.- 
 
 Sect. 1. Importance of a good articulation. 
 
 On whatever subject, and for whatever purpose, a 
 man speaks to his fellow men, they will never listen to 
 him with interest, unless they can hear what he says ; and 
 that without effort. If his utterance is rapid and indis- 
 tinct, no weight of his sentiments, no strength or smooth- 
 ness of voice, no excellence of modulation, emphasis, or 
 cadence, will enable him to speak so as to be heard with 
 pleasure. For his own sake too, the public speaker 
 should feel the importance of a clear articulation. With- 
 out this the necessary apprehension that his voice may 
 not reach distant hearers, will lead to elevation of pitch, 
 and increase of quantity ; till he gradually forms a habit 
 of vociferation, at the expense of all interesting variety, if 
 not, (as in too many cases it has turned out,) with the 
 
ARTICULATION. 21 
 
 sacrifice of lungs and life. Every one who is accustom- 
 ed to converse with partially deaf persons, knows how 
 much more easily they hear a moderate voice with clear 
 articulation, than one that is loud, but rapid and indistinct. 
 In addressing a public assembly, the same advantage at- 
 tends a voice of inferior strength, which marks the proper 
 distinction of letters and syllables. 
 
 For these reasons the ancients regarded articulation as 
 the first requisite in delivery ; — without which indeed, all 
 other acquisitions are vain. On this account Cicero says,* 
 the Catuli were esteemed the best speakers of the Latin 
 language ; their tones being sweet, and their syllables ut- 
 tered without effort, in a voice neither feeble nor clamor- 
 ous. So fastidious was the Roman ear, even among the 
 uneducated, that the same orator says, " in repetition of 
 a verse, the whole theatre was in an uproar, if there hap- 
 pened to be one syllable too many or too few. Not that 
 the crowd had any notion of numbers ; nor could they 
 tell what it was which gave the offence, nor in what re- 
 spect it was a fault." It was not because the fire of gen- 
 ius was wanting in the youthful orator of Athens, that his 
 audience repeatedly met his first efforts in speaking, with 
 hisses ; but it was on account of his feeble, hurried, stam- 
 mering utterance. To correct these faults it was that he 
 betook himself to speaking amid the sound of dashing 
 waves, the effort of walking up hill, and the inconvenience 
 of holding pebbles in his mouth ; that he might acquire a 
 body to his voice, and a habit of distinct and deliberate 
 utterance. 
 
 * De Officiisj Lib. I, 
 
22 ARTICULATION. 
 
 It lias been well said, that a good articulation is to the 
 ear, what a fair hand-writing, or a fair type is to the eye. 
 Who has not felt the perplexity of supplying a word, torn 
 away by the seal of a letter ; or a dozen syllables of a 
 book, in as many lines, cut off by the carelessness of a 
 binder? The same inconvenience is felt from a similar 
 omission in spoken language ; with this additional disad- 
 vantage, that we are not at liberty to stop and spell out 
 the meaning by construction. I have heard a preacher 
 with a good voice, in addressing his hearers with the ex- 
 hortation, " repent, and return to the Lord," — utter dis- 
 tinctly but three syllables, namely pent, — turn, — Lord. 
 Who would excuse the printer, that should mutilate this 
 sentence in the same manner ? When a man reads La- 
 tin or Greek, we expect him to utter nouns, pronouns, 
 and even particles, so that their several syllables, especial- 
 ly those denoting grammatical inflections, may be heard 
 distinctly. Let one noun in a sentence be spoken so that 
 the ear cannot perceive whether it is in the nominative, 
 or accusative, or vocative, or ablative ; or one verb, so as 
 to leave it uncertain to what mood or tense it belongs, and 
 the sense of the whole sentence is ruined. 
 
 But in the English language, abounding as it does 
 with particles, harsh syllables, and compound words, both 
 the necessity and the difficulty of a perfect utterance are 
 greater still. Our thousands of prefix and suffix syllables, 
 auxiliaries, and little words which mark grammatical con- 
 nexion, render bad articulation a fatal defect in delivery. 
 One example may illustrate my meaning. A man of in- 
 distinct utterance reads this sentence ; " the magistrates 
 ought to prove a declaration so publicly made." When 
 
ARTICULATION. 23 
 
 I perceive that his habit is to strike only the accented syl- 
 lable clearly, sliding over others, I do not know whether 
 it is meant that they ought to prove the declaration, or to 
 approve it, or reprove it, — for in either case he would 
 speak only the syllable prove. Nor do I know, whether 
 the magistrates ought to do it, or the magistrate sought to 
 do it. 
 
 A respectable modern writer on delivery says ; " In 
 just articulation, the words are not to be hurried over ; 
 nor precipitated syllable over syllable; nor as it were 
 melted together into a mass of confusion. They should 
 be neither abridged, nor prolonged ; nor swallowed, nor 
 forced ; they should not be trailed, nor drawled, nor let 
 to slip out carelessly, so as to drop unfinished. They are 
 to be delivered out from the lips as beautiful coins newly 
 issued from the mint, deeply and accurately impressed, 
 perfectly finished, neatly struck by the proper organs, 
 distinct, in due succession, and of due weight."* 
 
 Sect. 2. Causes of defective articulation. 
 
 This arises from bad organs, or bad habits, or sounds of 
 difficult utterance. 
 
 Every one knows how the loss of a tooth, or a contu- 
 sion on the lip, affects the formation of oral sounds. 
 When there is an essential fault in the structure of the 
 mouth ; when the tongue is disproportionate in length or 
 width, or sluggish in its movements ; or the palate is too 
 high or too low ; or the teeth badly set or decayed, art 
 may dimiaish, but cannot fully remove the difficulty. 
 
 In nine cases out of ten, however, imperfect articula- 
 
 * Austin's Chironomia, 
 
24 ARTICULATION. 
 
 tion comes not so much from bad organs as from the 
 abuse of good ones. Sheridan says ; " In several north- 
 ern counties of England, there are scarce any of the in- 
 habitants who can pronounce the letter R at all. Yet it 
 would be strange to suppose that all those people should 
 have been so unfortunately distinguished from other na- 
 tives of this island, as to be born with any peculiar defect 
 in their organs, when this matter is so plainly to be ac- 
 counted for upon the principle of imitation and habit." 
 Though provincialisms are fewer in this country than in 
 most others, a similar incapacity is witnessed, in families 
 or districts more or less extensive, to speak certain letters 
 or syllables, which are elsewhere spoken with perfect ease. 
 The same fact extends to different nations. There are 
 some sounds of the English language, as the nice distinc- 
 tion between d and t, and between the two aspirated 
 sounds of th, that adult natives of France and Germany 
 cannot learn to pronounce. Some sounds in their langua- 
 ges are equally difficult to us ; but this implies no original 
 difference of vocal organs. And surely no defect in these 
 need be supposed, to account for stubborn imperfections 
 in the utterance of those who from infancy have been un- 
 der the influence of vulgar example. 
 
 Besides the mischief that comes from early imitation, 
 the animal and intellectual temperament doubtless has 
 some connexion with this subject. A sluggish action of 
 the mind imparts a correspondent character to the action 
 of the vocal organs, and makes speech only a succession 
 of indolent, half- formed sounds, more resembling the mut- 
 tering of a dream than the clear articulation, which w T e 
 ought to expect in one who knows what he is sayins 
 
ARTICULATION. 25 
 
 Excess of vivacity, on the other hand, or excess of sen- 
 sibility, often produce a hasty, confused utterance. Del- 
 icacy speaks in a timid, feeble voice ; and the fault of 
 indistinctness is often aggravated in a bashful child, by the 
 indiscreet chidings of his teacher, designed to push him 
 into greater speed in spelling out his early lessons ; while 
 he has little familiarity with the form and sound, and less 
 with the meaning of words. 
 
 The way is now prepared to notice some of those dif- 
 ficulties in articulation, which arise from the sounds to be 
 spoken. 
 
 The first and chief difficulty lies in the fact that arti- 
 culation consists essentially in the consonant sounds, and 
 that many of these are difficult of utterance. My limits 
 do not allow me to illustrate this by a minute analysis of 
 the elements of speech. It is evident to the slightest ob- 
 servation that the open vowels are uttered with ease and 
 strength. On these, public criers swell their notes to so 
 great a compass. On these too, the loudest notes of mu- 
 sic are formed. Hence the great skill which is requisite 
 to distinct articulation in music ; for the stream of voice, 
 which flows so easily on the vowels and half vowels, is in- 
 terrupted by the occurrence of a harsh consonant ; and not 
 only the sound, but the breath, is entirely stopped by a 
 mute. In singing, for example, any syllable which ends 
 with p, k, d, or t, all the sound must be uttered on the 
 preceding vowel ; for when the organs come to the prop- 
 er position for speaking the mute, the voice instantly 
 ceases. Let any experienced singer, carefully try the 
 experiment of speaking, in the notes of a slow tune, these 
 Ifoes ; — ■> 
 
 3 
 
26 ARTICULATION. 
 
 With earnest longings of the mind, 
 My God, to thee I look. 
 
 Each syllable should be spoken by itself, with a pause 
 after it. In this way it will appear that where the sylla- 
 ble ends with a consonant, especially a mute, the stream 
 of sound is emitted on the preceding vowel, but is broken 
 off when the consonant is finished. This is the case with 
 the syllables mind, God, look ; the moment the organs 
 come into a position to speak d or k they are shut, so as 
 to stop both sound and breath. But in the syllables my, 
 to, thee, I, — the closing vowel sounds are perfectly formed 
 at once, and may be continued indefinitely, without any 
 change of the organs. The common mode of singing, h> 
 deed, is but a mere succession of musical notes, or open 
 vowel sounds, varying in pitch, with little attempt to arti- 
 culate the consonant sounds. This explains what has 
 sometimes been thought a mystery, that stammering 
 persons find little difficulty in reading poetry, and none 
 in singing ;* whereas they stop at once in speaking, 
 when they come to certain consonants. Any one who 
 would practically understand this subject, should recol- 
 lect that the distinction between human speech, and 
 the inarticulate sounds of brutes, lies not in the vowels, 
 but in the consonants ; and that in a defective utterance 
 of these, bad articulation primarily consists. 
 
 flGf^The reader is apprised that the marginal numbers 
 beginning at this place, direct to correspondent numbers in 
 the Exercises.] To avoid confusion in the body of the 
 work, but few examples for illustration are inserted. Any 
 
 * This is partly owing also to a deliberate, metrical movement, 
 
ARTICULATION. 27 
 
 principle that requires special attention and practice is 
 marked with figures on the left hand, and the same fig- 
 ures in the Exercises point to examples which should be 
 practised with a view to the more perfect understanding 
 of the principle. 
 
 1.] A second difficulty arises from the immediate suc- 
 cession of the same or similar sounds. The poet who un- 
 derstood the principles of euphony in language better than 
 any other English writer, has exemplified this in translat- 
 ing a line of Homer respecting the stone of Sisyphus, 
 where the recurrence of the aspirates and vowels is de- 
 signed to represent difficulty. 
 
 Up the high hill he h eaves a huge round stone. 
 
 In another case he purposely produces a heavy movement, 
 by the collision of open vowels ; 
 
 Tho oft the ear the open vowels tire. 
 
 Every scholar knows that the Greeks adopted many 
 changes in the combination of syllables to render their 
 language euphonic, by avoiding such collisions.* 
 
 But a greater difficulty still is occasioned by the im- 
 mediate recurrence of the same consonant sound, without 
 the intervention of a vowel or a pause. The following 
 are examples ; " For Chrises sake." " The hosts still 
 stood." " The battle tests srill." The illustration will be 
 more intelligible from examples in which bad articulation 
 affects the sense. 
 
 Wastes and deserts ;— Waste sand deserts. 
 To obtain either ; — To obtain neither. 
 
 * On this account they wrote -izavx tleyov for nctvxa 
 tXtyov, a(f ov for otto ov ; Kayo) for it at eyo) ; dtdwxcv 
 uvtco for dtdowf avrco &c. 
 
28 ARTICULATION. 
 
 His cry moved me ; — His crime moved me. 
 He could pay nobody ; — He could pain nobody. 
 
 Two successive sounds are to be formed here, with 
 the organs in the same position ; so that, without a pause 
 between, only one of the single sounds is spoken ; and 
 the difficulty is much increased when sense or grammati- 
 cal relation forbids such a pause ; as between the simple 
 nominative and the verb, the verb and its object, the ad- 
 jective and its substantive. In the last example, "he 
 eould pain nobody," — grammar forbids a pause between 
 pain and nobody, while orthoepy demands one. But 
 change the structure so as to render a pause proper after 
 pain, and the difficulty vanishes; — thus, "Though he 
 endured great pain, nobody pitied him." 
 
 2.] A third difficulty arises from the influence of ac- 
 cent. The importance which this stress attaches to syl- 
 lables on which it falls requires them to be spoken in a 
 more full and deliberate manner than others. Hence, if 
 the recurrence of this stress is too close, it occasions heav- 
 iness in utterance ; if too remote, indistinctness. An ex- 
 ample of the former kind, we have from the poet before 
 mentioned ; 
 
 And ten low words oft creep in one dull line. 
 
 This too is an additional reason for the difficult utter- 
 ance of the line lately quoted from the same writer ; 
 
 Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone. 
 
 The poet compels us, in spite of metrical harmony, to lay 
 an accent on each syllable. 
 
 But the remoteness of accent in other cases involves 
 a greater difficulty still ; because the intervening syllables 
 
ARTICULATION. 29 
 
 are liable to be spoken with a rapidity inconsistent with 
 distinctness, especially if they abound with jarring conso- 
 nants. When such close and harsh consonants come to- 
 gether, in immediate succession, and without accent, the 
 trial of the organs is severe. Combinations of this kind 
 we have in the words communicatively, authoritatively, 
 terrestrial, reasonableness, disinterestedness. And the 
 case is worse still where we preposterously throw back 
 the accent so as to be followed by four or five syllables, 
 as Walker directs in these words, receptacle, peremptorily , 
 acceptableness. While these combinations almost defy 
 the best organs of speech, no one finds any difficulty in 
 uttering words combined with a due proportion of liquids, 
 and a happy arrangement of vowels and accents. 
 
 Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 
 
 Flies o'er the unboading corn, and skims along the main. 
 
 The euphony of the Italian, in which it is distinguish- 
 ed from all other languages, consists chiefly in its freedom 
 from harsh consonants.* 
 
 3.] A fourth difficulty arises from a tendency of the 
 organs to slide over unaccented vowels. Walker says, 
 " Where vowels are under the accent, the prince and the 
 lowest of the people, with very few exceptions, pronounce 
 them in the same manner : but the unaccented vowels, 
 in the mouth of the former, have a distinct, open sound ; 
 while the latter often totally sink them, or change them 
 into some other sound." There is a large class of words 
 beginning with^re and pro, in which this distinction sel- 
 
 * Even the flowing Greek has such unseemly junction of 
 consonants as to make nQOGcp&eyxxlY.og, ^uMO^i^av domain 
 
 XGi'/.XCttlV. 
 
 3* 
 
30 ARTICULATION. 
 
 dom fails to appear. In prevent, prevail, predict, a bad 
 articulation sinks e of the first syllable so as to make pr- 
 vent, pr-vail, pr-dict. The case is the same with o in 
 proceed, profane, promote ; spoken pr-ceed, &ic. So e is 
 confounded with short u in event, omit, he. spoken uvvent, 
 ummit. In the same manner u is transformed into e, as 
 in populous, regular, singular, educate, &ic. spoken pop-e- 
 Jous, reg-e-lar, ed-e-cate. A smart percussion of the 
 tongue, with a little rest on the consonant before v, so as 
 to make it quite distinct, would remove the difficulty. 
 
 The same sort of defect, it may be added, often ap- 
 pears in the indistinct utterance of consonants ending syl- 
 lables ; thus in attempt, attention, effect, o/*-fence, the 
 consonant of the first syllable is suppressed. 
 
 To the foregoing remarks, it may be proper to add 
 three cautions. 
 
 The first is, in aiming to acquire a distinct articulation, 
 take care not to form one that is measured and mechani- 
 cal. Something of preciseness is very apt to appear at 
 first, when we attempt to correct the above faults ; but 
 practice and perseverance will enable us to combine ease 
 and fluency with clearness of utterance. The child in 
 passing from his spelling manner, is ambitions to become 
 a swift reader, and thus falls into a confusion of organs 
 that is to be cured only by retracing the steps which pro- 
 duced it. The remedy, however, is no better than the 
 fault if it runs into a scan-ning, pe-dan-tic for-mal-i-ty, 
 giving undue stress to particles and unaccented syllables ; 
 thus, " He is the man of all the world whom I rejoice to 
 meet." Perhaps there is something in the technical for- 
 malities of language attached to the bar, which inclines 
 
ARTICULATION. 31 
 
 some speakers of that profession, to this fault. In the 
 pulpit, there is sometimes an artificial solemnity, which 
 produces a drawling, measured articulation, of a still more 
 exceptionable kind. 
 
 In some parts of our country, inhabited by descend- 
 ants of foreigners, especially the Dutch, there is a preva- 
 lent habit of sinking the sound of e or i in words where 
 English usage preserves it, as in rebel, chapel, Latin, — 
 spoken reVl, chapel, Lafn. In other cases, where English 
 usage suppresses the vowel, the same persons speak it 
 with marked distinctness, or turn it into u ; as etfn, op' i n > 
 heatfn, — pronounced ev-un, op-un, heav-un. 
 
 The second caution is, — let the close of sentences be 
 spoken clearly ; with sufficient strength, and on the proper 
 pitch, to bring out the meaning completely. No part of 
 a sentence is so important as the close, both in respect to 
 sense and harmony. 
 
 The third caution is, — ascertain your own defects of 
 articulation, by the aid of some friend, and then devote a 
 short time statedly and daily, to correct them. It is im- 
 possible, without a resolute experiment, to know how 
 much the habit of reading aloud, besides all its other ad- 
 vantages, may do for a public speaker in giving distinctness 
 to his delivery.* At first, this exercise should be in the 
 hearing of a second person, who may stop the reader, and 
 
 * A friend of mine, a respectable lawyer, informed me that, in 
 a court which he usually attended, there was often much difficulty 
 to hear what was spoken at the bar, and from the bench. One of 
 the judges, however, a man of slender health, and somewhat ad- 
 vanced in age, was heard with perfect ease in every part of the 
 court room, whenever he spoke. So observable was this difference 
 between him and others, that the fact was mentioned to him as a 
 
32 ARTICULATION. 
 
 point out, at the moment, the fault to be corrected. For 
 some time the rate of utterance should be slower than usu- 
 al, and directed to the single point of distinctness, dismiss- 
 ing all regard to the sense of words, lest this lead him to 
 forget his object. To make sure of this end, if he can- 
 not do it otherwise, he may pronounce the words of a 
 common vocabulary. At any rate, let him make a list of 
 such words, and combinations as he has found most diffi- 
 culty to his organs, and repeat them as a set exercise. If 
 he has been accustomed to say omnip-e-tent, pop-e-lous, 
 pr-mote, pr-vent, let him learn to speak the unaccented 
 vowels properly. 
 
 IMPEDIMENTS. 
 
 As directly connected with articulation, a few remarks 
 on impediments seem to be necessary. Stammering may 
 doubtless exist from such causes, and to such degree as 
 to be insurmountable ; though in most cases, a complete 
 remedy is attainable by the early use of proper means. 
 They who have given most attention to this defect, sup- 
 pose that it should generally be ascribed to some infelici- 
 ty of nervous temperament. When this is the cause, ea- 
 gernesss of emotion, fear of strangers, surprise, anxiety, 
 — any thing that produces a sudden rush of spirits, will 
 communicate a spasmodic action to the organs of speech. 
 The process of cure in such a case, must begin with such 
 attention to bodily health, as will give firmness to the ner- 
 
 subject of curiosity. The judge explained it by saying, that his 
 vocal powers, which were originally quite imperfect, had acquired 
 clearness and strength by the long continued habit of reading aloud, 
 for about half an hour, every day. 
 
ARTICULATION. 33 
 
 vous system, and produce a calm, clear, and regular ac- 
 tion of the mind. 
 
 With this preparation, it is best not to put the stam- 
 merer at first to the hardest task of his organs, but to be- 
 gin at a distance, and come to the difficulty by regular 
 approaches. The course that has been pursued, with 
 perfect success, by one respectable teacher, is this. The 
 pupil is to begin with reading verse ; the more simple and 
 regular, the better : — he is to mark the feet distinctly 
 with his voice, and beat time with his hand or toe to the 
 movement. From verse of this regular structure, he may 
 proceed to that which is less uniform in metrical order ; 
 then to prose, of the elevated and poetic kind ; then to 
 common prose ; and then by degrees to the difficult com- 
 binations at which he had been accustomed to stammer. 
 
 In repeating certain words there may be an obstinate 
 struggle of the organs ; as in the attempt to pronounce 
 parable, the p may be spoken again and again, while the 
 remainder of the word does not follow. In such a case, 
 the advice of the celebrated Dr. Darwin was, that the 
 stammerer should, in a strong voice, eight or ten times, 
 repeat the word, without the initial letter, or with an as- 
 pirate before it ; as arable, harable ; and then speak it 
 softly, with the initial letter p,— parable. This should be 
 practised for weeks or months, upon every word, where 
 the difficulty of utterance chiefly occurs. 
 
CHAP. III. 
 
 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 The former of these terms is more comprehensive 
 than the latter, embracing, in its most extensive sense, all 
 sounds of the human voice. In a more restricted and 
 proper sense, we mean by tones those sounds which stand 
 connected with some rhetorical principle of language. In 
 a few cases passion is expressed by tones which have no 
 inflection ; but more commonly inflection is what gives 
 significance to tones. Except a few general remarks 
 here, no consideration of tones seems necessary, distinct 
 from the subjects of the following chapters, especially 
 Modulation. 
 
 Sect. 1. Tones considered as a language of emotion. 
 
 Sight has commonly been considered as the most 
 active of all our senses. As a source of emotion, we de- 
 rive impressions more various, and in some respects more 
 vivid, from this sense, than from any other. Yet the class 
 of tender emotions, such as grief and pity, are probably 
 excited more strongly by the ear than the eye. 
 
 Whether any reason can be assigned for this or not, 
 the fact seems unquestionable. A groan or shriek utter- 
 ed by the human voice, is not only more intelligible than 
 words, but more instantly awakens our sensibility than any 
 signs of distress, that are presented to the sight. Our 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 35 
 
 sympathy in the sufferings of irrational animals, is increas- 
 ed in the same way. The violent contortions of the fish, 
 in the pangs of death, being expressed without the aid of 
 vocal organs, very faintly excite our compassion, compar- 
 ed with the plaintive bleatings of an expiring lamb. And 
 a still stronger distinction seems to prevail among brutes 
 themselves. For while the passion of fear in them, is as- 
 sociated chiefly with objects of sight, that of pity is awak- 
 ened, almost exclusively, by the sense of hearing. The 
 cry of distress from a suffering animal, instinctively calls 
 around him his fellows of the same species, though this 
 cry is an unknown tongue to animals of any other class. 
 At the same time his own species, if he utters no cries, 
 while they see him in excruciating agony, manifest no 
 sympathy in his sufferings. 
 
 Without enquiring minutely into the philosophy of vo- 
 cal tones, as being signs of emotion, we must take the 
 fact for granted that they are so. And no man surely 
 will question the importance of this language in oratory, 
 when he sees that it is understood by mere children ; and 
 that even his horse or his dog distinguish perfectly those 
 sounds of his voice which express his anger or his appro- 
 bation. 
 
 Sect. 2. Utility of systematic attention to tones and in- 
 flections. 
 
 Analysis of vocal inflections bears the same relation to 
 oratory, that the tuning of an instrument does to music. 
 The rudest performer in this latter art knows, that his first 
 business is to regulate the instrument he uses, when it is 
 so deranged as to produce no perfect notes, or to produce 
 
36 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 others than those which he intends. The voice is the 
 speaker's instrument, which by neglect or mismanage- 
 ment is often so out of tune as not to obey the will of him 
 who uses it. To cure bad habits is the first and hardest 
 task in elocution. Among instructors of children scarce- 
 ly one in fifty thinks of carrying his precepts beyond cor- 
 rectness in uttering words, and a mechanical attention to 
 pauses. So that the child who speaks the words of a 
 sentence distinctly and fluently, and " minds the stops," as 
 it is called, is without scruple, pronounced a good reader. 
 Hence, among the multitude who consider themselves as 
 good readers, there are so few who give by their voice 
 that just expression of sentiment, which constitutes the 
 spirit and soul of delivery. 
 
 The unseemly tones which are contracted in child- 
 hood, are often so deeply fixed, as not easily to yield to 
 the dictates of a manly intellect, and a cultivated taste, in 
 after life. These habits are acquired, almost unavoida- 
 bly by children, in consequence of their being accustomed 
 to read what they do not understand. The man who 
 should prepare a school-book, containing proper lessons 
 for beginners in the art of reading, with familiar directions 
 for managing the voice, would probably do a greater ser- 
 vice to the interests of elocution, than has yet been done 
 by the most elaborate works on the subject, in the Eng- 
 lish language.* The tones of the common school are of- 
 
 * Since this remark was made in my pamphlet on Inflections, 
 several small works, well adapted to the purpose abovementioned 
 have been published ; and one is now in press, entitled Lesson? 
 in Declamation, by Mr. Russell of Boston, concerning the utility of 
 which high expectations are justified by the skill of the Author, as 
 a Teacher of Elocution. 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 37 
 
 ten retained and confirmed at the college, and thence, 
 (with some distinguished exceptions,) are carried in all 
 their strength to the bar, and especially to the pulpit. 
 This fault is by no means peculiar to America ; it prevails 
 certainly not less in the schools and universities of Eng- 
 land and Scotland, than in our own. 
 
 But what is the remedy ! It has often been said, the 
 only good canon of elocution is, — " enter into the spirit of 
 what you utter." If we were to have but one direction, 
 doubtless this should be the one. Doubtless it is better 
 than all others to prevent the formation of bad habits ; — 
 and better than any other alone, as a remedy for such hab- 
 its ; but when these are formed, it is by no means suffi- 
 cient of itself for their cure. To do what is right, with un- 
 perverted faculties, is ten times easier than to undo what 
 is wrong. How often do w r e see men of fine understand- 
 ing and delicate sensibility, who utter their thoughts in 
 conversation, with all the varied intonations which senti- 
 ment requires ; but the moment they come to read or 
 speak in a formal manner, adopt a set of artificial tones 
 utterly repugnant to the spirit of a just elocution. Shall 
 w T e say that such men do not understand what they speak 
 in public, as well as what they speak in conversation ? 
 Plainly the difference arises from a perverse habit, which 
 prevails over them in one case, and not in the other. 
 Many instances of this sort I have known, where a man 
 has been fully sensible of something very wrong in his 
 tones, but has not been able to see exactly what the fault 
 is ; and after a few indefinite and unsuccessful efforts at 
 amendment, has quietly concluded to go on in the old way. 
 So he must conclude, so long as good sense and emo- 
 4 
 
38 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 tion are not an equal match for bad habits, without a 
 knowledge of those elementary principles, by which the 
 needed remedy is to be applied. 
 
 Skill in vocal inflections, it is granted, cannot of itself 
 make an orator. Nor can skill in words. Who does 
 not know that with an ample stock of words at command, 
 a man may be little more than a chattering animal ? Yet 
 who can be an orator without words ? We have seen 
 that a man, with no defects of intellect or of sensibility, 
 may have great faults in the management of his voice as 
 a speaker. These perhaps he acquired in childhood, just 
 as he learned to speak at all, or to speak English rather 
 than French, — by imitation. His tones both of passion 
 and of articulation, are derived from an instinctive corres- 
 pondence between the ear and voice. If he had been 
 born deaf, he would have possessed neither. Now in 
 what way shall he break up his bad habits, without so 
 much attention to the analysis of speaking sounds, that he 
 can in some good degree distinguish those which differ, 
 and imitate those which he would wish to adopt or avoid ? 
 How shall he correct a tone, while he cannot understand 
 why it needs correction, because he chooses to remain ig- 
 norant of the only language in which the fault can possi- 
 bly be described ? Let him study and accustom himself 
 to apply a few elementary principles, and then he may 
 at least be able to understand what are the defects of his 
 own intonations. I do not say that this attainment may be 
 made with equal facility, or to an equal extent, by all men. 
 But to an important extent it may be made by everyone ; 
 and that with a moderate share of the effort demanded by 
 most other valuable acquisitions ; I might say with one 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 39 
 
 half the time and attention that are requisite to attain skill 
 in music. 
 
 It may be doubted, however, by some, whether any 
 theory of vocal inflections, to be studied and applied by 
 the pupil, must not tend to perplex rather than facilitate 
 delivery. The same doubt may as well be extended to 
 every department of practical knowledge. To think of 
 the rules of syntax, every sentence we speak, or of the 
 rules of orthography and style, every time we take up our 
 pen to write, would indeed be perplexing. The remedy 
 prescribed by common sense in all such cases, is, not to 
 discard correct theories, but to make them so familiar as 
 to govern our practice spontaneously, and without reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 But if one has already the perfect management of his 
 voice, of what service, it is said, are theoretic principles to 
 him ? Of very little certainly ; just as rules of syntax 
 would be needless to him, who could write and speak cor- 
 rectly without them. But the number of those who sup- 
 pose themselves to be of this description, is doubtless 
 much larger than of those who really are so. And be- 
 sides, this reasoning hardly applies to those who are des- 
 tined for literary professions. A mere peasant may speak 
 a sentence of good English, and do it with proper empha- 
 sis and inflections ; while he is a stranger to all the prin- 
 ciples of grammar, and of elocution. But a scholar should 
 aim at something more. The question as to voice, is, are 
 there any settled principles in elocution ? When a skilful 
 teacher has read to his pupils a sentence for their imitation, 
 is there any reason why he should have read it as he did f 
 — or why he or they should read it again in the same man- 
 
40 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 ner ? Can that reason be made intelligible ? Doubtless 
 it may, if it is founded on any stated law of delivery. The 
 pupils then, need not rest in a servile imitation of their 
 teacher's manner, but arc entitled to ask why his empha- 
 sis, or inflection, or cadence was so, and not otherwise ; 
 and then they may be able to transfer the same principles 
 to other cases. Then too one skilful teacher, by means 
 of such intelligible analysis, may assist other teachers, 
 whose capacity is equal to his own, but whose experience 
 has been less than his. For myself, I must say, that af- 
 ter all I had read of Garrick, I had no distinct conception 
 of his manner in delivering any given passage, till I saw 
 Walker's description of his inflections in the grand and ter- 
 rible adjuration of Macbeth. [See Exercises.] If Quinc- 
 tillian had given me the same precise information respect- 
 ing the turns of Cicero's voice in some interesting passage 
 of his orations, it would be no small gratification of my 
 curiosity. 
 
 Now, While every tyro has known for centuries, that 
 the verb has a stated, grammatical relation to its nomina- 
 tive, and while certain tones have occurred in as stated 
 a relation to certain sentiments of the mind ; it is but a 
 short time since the tones of articulate language have been 
 considered as capable of any useful classification. Sev- 
 eral years of childhood are particularly devoted to acquire 
 a correct orthography and accentuation ; and to promote 
 a knowledge of these and of syntax, rules have been fram- 
 ed with great care. But what valuable directions have 
 our elementary books contained as to the management of 
 the voice in reading ? — an art which lies at the bottom of 
 all good delivery. Here our embryo orators, on their 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 41 
 
 way to the bar, the senate, and the pulpit, are turned off 
 with a few meagre rules, and are expected to become ac- 
 complished speakers, without having ever learned to read 
 a common passage, in a graceful and impressive manner. 
 Fifty years ago the general direction given by teachers in 
 reading was, that in every sort of sentence the voice should 
 be kept up in a rising tone till the regular cadence is 
 formed, at the close. This was exactly adapted to ruin 
 all variety and force, and to produce a set of reading tones 
 completely at variance with those of conversation and 
 speaking. The more particular directions as to voice, for- 
 merly given in books for learners, are the three following ; 
 that a parenthesis requires a quick and weak pronuncia- 
 tion ; — that the voice should rise at the end of an inter- 
 rogative sentence, — and fall at the end of one that is de- 
 clarative. The first is true without exception ; — the 
 second, only in that sort of question which is answered by 
 yes or no ; and the third is true with the exception of all 
 cases where emphasis carries the voice to a high note at 
 the close of a sentence. So that, among the endless vari- 
 eties of modification which the voice assumes in speaking, 
 but one was accurately marked before the time of Walker. 
 To his labors, imperfect as a first effort of the kind neces- 
 sarily must be, the world will ultimately acknowledge 
 great obligations. Such, however, is the intrinsic diffi- 
 culty of representing sounds, by symbols adapted to the 
 eye, that no precepts on this subject can be made com- 
 pletely intelligible, without the aid of exemplification by 
 the teacher's voice. The ear too is an organ, which in 
 different men, possesses various degrees of sensibility and 
 accuracy in discriminating sounds ; though it may acquire 
 4* 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 a good degree of skill in speaking tones, without skill in 
 music, as appears from the case of Walker himself. 
 
 Sect. 3. Description of Inflections. 
 
 The absolute modifications of the voice in speaking 
 are four ; namely, monotone, rising inflection, and cir- 
 cumflex. The first may be marked to the eye by a hor- 
 izontal line, thus, ( ~ ) the second thus, (') the third thus, 
 (^) the fourth thus, ( ^ ). 
 
 The monotone is a sameness of sound on successive 
 syllables, which resembles that produced by repeated 
 strokes on a bell. Perhaps this is never carried so far 
 as to amount to perfect sameness ; but it often approach- 
 es this point so as to be both irksome and ludicrous. 
 Still, more or less of this quality belongs to grave deliv- 
 ery, especially in elevated description, or where emotions 
 of sublimity or reverence are expressed. Any one would 
 be shocked, for example, at an address to Jehovah, utter- 
 ed with the sprightly and varied tones of conversation. 
 The following lines have often been given as a good ex- 
 ample of the dignity and force attending the monotone 
 when properly used. 
 
 High on a throne of royal state, which far 
 Outshone the wealth of Ormns or of Inde ; „ 
 Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand, 
 Shdw'rs, on her kings barbaric, pearl and gold, 
 Satan exalted sat. 
 
 The rising inflection turns the voice upward, or ends 
 higher than it begins. It is heard invariably in the direct 
 question ; as, Will you go toddy ? 
 
 The falling inflection turns the voice downwards, or 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 43 
 
 ends lower than it begins. It is heard in the answer to a 
 question ; as, Nd ; I shall go tomdrrow. 
 
 As the whole doctrine of inflections depends on these 
 two simple slides of the voice, one more explanation 
 seems necessary as to the degree in which each is applied 
 under different circumstances. In most cases where the 
 rising slide is used, it is only a gentle turn of the voice 
 upwards, one or two notes. In cases of emotion, as in 
 the spirited, direct question, the slide may pass through 
 five or eight notes. The former may be called the com- 
 mon rising inflection, the latter the intensive. Just the 
 same distinction exists in the falling inflection. Many, 
 not aware of this difference, have carried Walker's princi- 
 ples to an extreme. In the question, uttered with sur- 
 prise, " Are you going to-day ?" the slide is intensive. 
 But in the following case, it is common, " as fame is but 
 breath, as riches are transitory, and life itself is uncertain^ 
 so we should seek a better portion" To carry the rising 
 slide in the latter case, as far as in the former, is a great 
 fault, though not an uncommon one. 
 
 The circumflex is a union of the two inflections, some- 
 times on one syllable, and sometimes on several. Walker's 
 first example extends it to three syllables, though his de- 
 scription limits it to one. It begins with the falling and ends 
 with the rising slide. This turn of the voice is not so of- 
 ten used, nor so easily distinguished as the two simple 
 slides just mentioned ; though it occurs, if I mistake not, 
 especially in familiar language, much oftener than Walker 
 seems to suppose. In many cases where it is used, there 
 is something conditional in the thought ; as, / may go to- 
 morrow, though I cannot go today. Irony or scorn is 
 
44 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 also expressed by it ; as, " They tell us to be moderate ; 
 but they, they are to revel in profusion." On the words 
 marked in these examples, there is a significant twisting 
 of the voice downwards and then upwards, without which 
 the sense is not expressed.* 
 
 As to Mr. Walker's remarks on another circumflex, 
 which he calls the falling, I must doubt the accuracy ei- 
 ther of his ear or my own ; for in his examples I can- 
 not distinguish it from the falling slide, modified perhaps 
 by circumstances, but having nothing of that distinctive 
 character, which belongs to the circumflex just described. 
 In mimickry and burlesque, I can perceive a falling cir- 
 cumflex, in a few cases, but it is applicable I think very 
 rarely, if ever, in grave delivery. 
 
 Besides these absolute modifications of voice, there are 
 others which may be called relative, and which may be 
 classed under the four heads of pitch, quantity, rate, and 
 quality. These may be represented thus ; 
 
 H»j&£ Entity. |*# Rate, {J** •"*J5&H 
 
 As these relative modifications of voice assume almost 
 an endless variety according to sentiment and emotion in 
 a speaker, they belong to the chapter on modulation. 
 
 * We may take an example, which gives these three inflections 
 of voice successively ; though perhaps it will hardly be intelligible 
 to a mere beginner. The abrupt clause in Hamlet's soliloquy,—;. 
 To die, to sleep, no more, is commonly read with the falling slide 
 on each word, thus ; to die, to sleep no more, expressing no sense, 
 or a false one ; as if Hamlet meant, " When I die, I shall no more 
 sleep." But place the rising inflection on die, the falling on sleep, and 
 the circumflex on no more, and you have this sense ; "To die ? — 
 what is it? — no terrible event ; — it is merely falling asleep :" — 
 thus, to die, — to sleep, — no more. Some skilful readers give the 
 rising slide to the last clause, turning it into a question or exclama- 
 tion ; — no more .' — " is this all ?" But the circumflex seems better 
 to represent the desperate hardihood with which Hamlet was reas- 
 oning himself into a contempt of death. 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 45 
 
 Sect. 4. Classification of Inflections. 
 
 This is the point on which, most of all, Walker is defec- 
 tive. The conviction that he was treating a difficult subject, 
 led him into the very common mistake of attempting to 
 make his meaning plain by prolixity of remark, and mul- 
 tiplicity of rules. One error of this respectable writer is, 
 that he attempts to carry the application of his principles 
 too far. To think of reducing to exact system all the in- 
 flections to be employed in the delivery of plain language, 
 where there is no emotion, and no emphasis, is idle in- 
 deed. Many who have attempted to follow the theory 
 to this extreme, perplexed with the endless list of rules 
 which it occasions, have become discouraged. Whereas 
 the theory is of no use except in reference to. the rhetori- 
 cal principles of language, where tones express sentiment. 
 And even in passages of this sort, the significant inflec- 
 tions belong only to a few words, which, being properly 
 spoken, determine of necessity the manner of speaking 
 the rest;* The maxim, that '-'• there cannot be too much 
 of a good thing," has led some to multiply marks of in- 
 flection on unimportant words ; just as others, in their 
 zeal for emphasis, have multiplied Italic words in a page, 
 till all discrimination is confounded. 
 
 Another fault of Walker is, that the elements of speak- 
 ing tones are not presented in any intelligible method ; 
 but are so promiscuously intermingled throughout his 
 work, as to give it the character of obscurity. The view 
 of these elements to which he devotes about a hundred 
 
 * This I endeavor to illustrate in the discussion of Emphasis 
 and Modulation, 
 
46 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 and fifty pages, after he enters on inflections, I here at- 
 tempt to comprise in a short compass. In order to ren- 
 der the new classification which I have given intelligible, 
 I have chosen exmples chiefly from colloquial language ; 
 because the tones of conversation ought to be the basis of 
 delivery, and because these only are at once recognised 
 by the ear. Being conformed to nature, they are instinct- 
 tively right ; so that scarcely a man in a million uses ar- 
 tificial tones in conversation. And this one fact, I remark 
 in passing, furnishes a standing canon to the learner in el- 
 ocution. In contending with any bad habit of voice, let 
 him break up the sentence on which the difficulty occurs, 
 and throw it, if possible, into the colloquial form. Let 
 him observe in himself and others, the turns of voice 
 which occur in speaking, familiarly and earnestly, on com- 
 mon occasions. Good taste will then enable him to trans- 
 fer to public delivery the same turns of voice, adapting them, 
 as he must of necessity, to the elevation of his subject. 
 
 The examples set down under each rule, should be 
 repeated by the student in the hearing of some competent 
 judge, till he is master of that one point, before he pro- 
 ceeds to another. If more examples, in the first instance, 
 are found necessary to this purpose, they may be sought 
 in the exercises. 
 
 As the difficulty of the learner at first is to distinguish 
 the two chief inflections, and as the best method of doing 
 this is by comparing them together, the following classifi- 
 cation begins with cases in which the two are statedly 
 found in the same connexion; and then extends to cases 
 in which they are used separately ; the whole being mark- 
 ed in a continued series of rules, for convenient reference. 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 47 
 
 BOTH INFLECTIONS TOGETHER. 
 
 4] Rule I. When the disjunctive or connects words 
 or clauses, it has the rising inflection before, and the fall- 
 ing after it. 
 
 examples. 
 
 Shall I come to you with a rod— or in love ? 
 
 Art thou he that should come, — or look we for another ? 
 
 The baptism of John, was it from heaven, — or of men ? 
 
 Will you go — or stay ? 
 
 Will you ride — or walk ? 
 
 Will you go today — or tomorrow ? 
 
 Did you see him, — or his brother ? 
 
 Did he travel for health, — or pleasure ? 
 
 Did he resemble his father, — or his mother ? 
 
 Is this book yours, — or mine ? 
 
 5] Rule II. The direct question, or that which ad- 
 mits the answer of yes or no, has the rising inflection, and 
 the answer has the falling. 
 
 examples. 
 
 Are they Hebrews ? So am T. 
 
 Are they 'Israelites ? So am "t. 
 
 Are they the seed of 'Abraham ? So am "I. 
 
 Are they ministers of Christ ? I am more. [Paul.] 
 
 Did you not speak to it ? My lord, I did. 
 
 Hold you the watch to-night ? We do, my lord. 
 
 'ArmM, say you ? \ArmM, my lord. 
 
 From top to toe ? My lord, from head to foot. 
 
 Then saw you not his face ? O yes, my lord. 
 
 What, look'd he frowningly ? A countenance more in sorrow 
 
 than in anger. 
 
 Pale ? STay, very pale. 
 
 Shak. Hamlet. 
 
48 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 6] Note 1. This sort of question ends with the ri- 
 sing slide, whether the answer follows it or not. But it 
 is not true as Mr. Walker has seemed to suppose, that 
 every question beginning with a verb is of this sort. If I 
 wish to know whether my friend will go on a journey with- 
 in two days, I say perhaps, " Will you go today or tomor- . 
 row ?" He may answer, " yes," — because my rising in- 
 flection on both words implies that I used the or between 
 them conjunctively. But if I had used it disjunctively, 
 it must have had the rising slide before it, and the falling 
 after ; and then the question is, not whether he will go 
 within two days, but on which of the two ; — thus, " Will 
 you go toddy — or tombrrowV The whole question, in 
 this case, though it begins with a verb, cannot admit the 
 answer yes or no, and of course cannot end with the ri- 
 sing slide. 
 
 The very general habit of elocution which gives this 
 slide to a question beginning with a verb, is superseded 
 by the stronger principle of emphatic contrast in Rule 1st. 
 Thus the disciples said to Christ, " Is it lawful to give 
 tribute to Caesar or not ? Shall we give or shall we not 
 give ?" Pilate said to the Jews, " Shall I release unto 
 you Barabbas, or Jesus ?" Let the rising slide be given 
 on both names, in this latter case, and the answer might 
 indeed be yes or no, but the sense is perverted, by mak- 
 ing these, two names for the same person ;. just as in the 
 following, " Was this becoming in Zoroaster, or the Phi- 
 losopher of the Magi ?" Such an example may help to 
 satisfy those who doubt the significance of inflection. 
 
 Note 2. When Exclamation becomes a question, it 
 demands the rising slide ; as, " How, you say, are we to 
 
T0NE9 AND INFLECTIONS. 49 
 
 accomplish it ? How accomplish it ! Certainly not by 
 fearing to attempt it." 
 
 7] Rule III. When negation is opposed to affir- 
 mation, the former has the rising, and the latter the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 1 did not say a better soldier, — but an elder. 
 Study, not for amusement, — but for improvement. 
 Aim not to show knowledge, — but to acquire it. 
 He was esteemed, not for wealth, — but for wisdom. 
 He will not come today,^-hut tomorrow. 
 He did not act wisely, -but unwisely. 
 He did not call me, — but you. 
 He did not say pride, — but pnde. 
 
 Negation alone, not opposed to affirmation, does not 
 by any means always take the rising inflection, as Mr. 
 Knowles supposes. The simple particle no, when under 
 the emphasis, with the intensive, falling slide, is one of 
 the strongest monosyllables in the language. But when 
 negative and affirmative clauses come into opposition, I 
 think of no exception to the rule but that mentioned un- 
 der emphatic succession, Rule IX. Note 2. 
 
 8] Note 1 . This rule, like the two preceding, is 
 founded on the influence which antithetic sense has on 
 the voice. The same change of inflections we find in 
 comparison ; as, 
 
 K He is more knave than fool." 
 
 M A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. 1 ' 
 
 So in the following case of simple contrast, where, in each 
 couplet of antithetic terms, the former word has the rising 
 inflection. 
 
 5 
 
50 TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 
 
 Here regard to virtue opposes insensibility to shame ; purity, to 
 pollution ; integrity, to injustice ; virtue, to villany ; resolution, to 
 rage ; regularity, to riot. The struggle lies between wealth and 
 want ; the dignity, and degeneracy of reason ; the force, and 
 the phrenzy of the soul ; between well grounded hope, and widely 
 extended despair. 
 
 Note 2. The reader should be apprised here, that 
 the falling slide, being often connected with strong em- 
 phasis, and beginning on a high and spirited note, is lia- 
 ble to be mistaken, by those little acquainted with the sub- 
 ject, for the rising slide. If one is in doubt which of the 
 two he has employed, on a particular word, let him re- 
 peat both together, by forming a question according to 
 Rule I. with the disjunctive or ; — thus, " Did 1 say go, — 
 or go ?" Or let him take each example under Rule I. 
 and according to Rule II. form an answ T er echoing the 
 first emphatic word, but changing the inflection ; thus, 
 " Will you go, — or stay ? I shall gd" " Will you ride, 
 or walk ? I shall ride." This will give the contrary 
 slides on the same word. 
 
 But as some may be unable still to distinguish the 
 falling slide, confounding it, as just mentioned, with the 
 rising inflection, or, on the other hand, with the cadence ; 
 I observe that the difficulty lies in two things. One is, 
 that the slide is not begun so high, and the other, that it 
 is not carried through so many notes, as it ought to be. 
 I explain this by a diagram, thus : 
 
TONES AND INFLECTIONS. 51 
 
 It is sufficiently exact to say, that in reading this pro- 
 perly, the syllables without slide may be spoken on one 
 key or monotone. From this key go slides upwards to 
 its highest note, and from the same high note stay slides 
 downwards to the key ; and go does the same, in the an- 
 swer to the question. In the second example, the case 
 is entirely similar. But the difficulty with the inexpert 
 reader is, that he strikes the downward slide, not above 
 the key, but on it, and then slides downward, just as in a 
 cadence. The faulty manner may be represented thus : 
 
 Will you go to- &*" or to-^ I shall go to-^, 
 
 The other part of the difficulty in distinguishing the fall- 
 ing inflection from the opposite, arises from its want of 
 sufficient extent. Sometimes indeed the voice is merely 
 dropped to a low note, without any slide at all. The 
 best remedy is, to take a sentence with some emphatic 
 word, on which the intensive falling slide is proper, and 
 protract that slide, in a drawling manner, from a high 
 note to a low one. This will make its distinction from 
 the rising slide very obvious. 
 
 Harmony and emphasis make some exceptions to se- 
 veral of these rules, which the brevity of my plan com- 
 pels me to pass by without notice. 
 
 RISING INFLECTION. 
 
 9] Rule IV. The pause of suspension, denoting 
 that the sense is unfinished, requires the rising inflection. 
 
 This rule embraces several particulars, more espe- 
 cially applying to sentences of the periodic structure, 
 
%% INFLECTIONS RISING. 
 
 which consist of several members, but form no complete 
 sense before the close. It is a first principle of articulate 
 language, that in such a case, the voice should be kept 
 suspended, to denote continuation of sense. 
 
 The following are some of the cases to which the rule 
 applies. 
 
 1. Sentences beginning with a conditional particle or 
 clause ; as, 
 
 " If some of the branches be broken off, and thou, being a wild 
 olive-tree, wert grafted in among them, and with them partakest of 
 the root and fatness of the olive-tr£e ; boast not against the branch- 
 es. 1 ' " As face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to 
 man. 1 ' 
 
 In what Walker calls the ' inverted period,' the last 
 member, though not essential to give meaning to what 
 precedes, yet follows so closely as not to allow the voice 
 to fall till it is pronounced. 
 
 2. The case absolute ; as, 
 
 " His father dy'ing, and no heir being left except himself, he 
 succeeded to the estate. 11 " The question having been fully dis- 
 cussed, and all objections completely refuted, the decision was 
 unanimous. 1 ' 
 
 3. The infinitive mood with its adjuncts, used as a 
 nominative case ; as, 
 
 M To smile on those whom we should censure, and to counte- 
 nance those who are guilty of bad actions, is to be guilty our- 
 selves. 1 ' " To be pure in heart, to be pious and benevolent, con- 
 stitutes human happiness. 1 ' 
 
 4. The vocative * case without strong emphasis, when 
 it is a respectful call to attention, expresses no sense com- 
 
 * I u?e this term as better suiting my purpose than that of our 
 grammarians, — nominative independent. 
 
INFLECTIONS RISING. 53 
 
 pleted, and comes under the inflection of the suspending 
 pause ; as, 
 
 Men, brethren, and fathers, — hearken." " Friends, Romans, 
 countrymen ! — lend me your ears." 
 
 5. The parenthesis com monly requires the same in- 
 flection at the close, while the rest of it is often to be 
 spoken in the monotone. As an interjected clause, it 
 suspends the sense of the sentence, and for that reason 
 only, is pronounced in a quicker and lower voice, the hear- 
 er being supposed to wait with some impatience for the 
 main thought, while this interjected clause is uttered ; as, 
 " Know ye not, brethren, (for I speak to them that know 
 the liw.) that the law hath dominion over a man as long 
 as he liveth ?" The most common exceptions in this 
 case, occur in rhetorical dialogue, where narrative and ad- 
 dress are mingled, and represented by one voice, and 
 where there is frequent change of emphasis. 
 
 The same sort of exception may apply to the general 
 principle of this rule whenever one voice is to represent 
 two persons, thus ; 
 
 If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and 
 one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and fill- 
 ed ; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are need- 
 ful to the body ; what doth it profit? 
 
 Here the sense is entirely suspended to the close, and yet 
 the clause introduced as the language of another, re- 
 quires the falling slide. 
 
 Another exception, resting on still stronger ground, 
 occurs where an antithetic clause requires the intensive 
 falling slide on some chief word to denote the true mean- 
 ing; as in the following example, — "The man who is in 
 5* 
 
54 INFLECTIONS RISING. 
 
 the daily use of ardent spirits, if he does not become a 
 drunkard, is in danger of losing his health and character." 
 In this periodic sentence, the meaning is not formed till 
 the close ; and yet the falling slide must be given at 
 the end of the second member, or the sense is subverted; 
 for the rising slide on drunkard implies that his becom- 
 ing such is the only way to preserve health and character. 
 In the foregoing rule, together with the VI. and IX. is 
 comprised all that I think important in about thirty rules 
 of Walker. 
 
 10] Rule V. The rising slide is used to express 
 tender emotion. 
 
 Grief, compassion, and delicate affection, soften the 
 soul, and are uttered in words, invariably with correspond- 
 ing qualities of voice. The passion and the appropriate 
 signs by which it is expressed, are so universally conjoin- 
 ed, that they cannot be separated. It would shock the 
 sensibility of any one to hear a mother describe the death 
 of her child, with the same intonations which belong to joy 
 or anger. And equally absurd would it be for a general 
 to assume the tones of grief, in giving his commands at 
 the head of an army. 
 
 Hence the vocative case, when it expresses either af- 
 fection or delicate respect, takes the rising slide ; as, 
 
 u Jesus saith unto her, Mary." " Jesus saith unto him, Thom- 
 as.'" " Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet." -— " Sirs., what 
 must I do to be saved ?" 
 
 This inflection prevails in the reverential language of prayer. 
 The same slide prevails in pathetic poetry. Take an 
 example from Milton's lamentation for the loss of sight. 
 Thus with the year, 
 Seasons return °, but not to me returns 
 
INFLECTIONS RISING. 55 
 
 Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, 
 Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
 Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 
 But cloud instead, and ever during 1 dark 
 Surround me 
 
 Another example may be seen in the beautiful little 
 poem of Cowper, on the receipt of his mother's picture : 
 
 My mother! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears 1 shed ? 
 Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
 Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? 
 I hear'd the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 
 1 say the hearse, that bore thee slow away, 
 And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew 
 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. 
 
 In both these examples the voice preserves the rising 
 slide, till, in the former we come to the last member, be- 
 ginning with the disjunctive but, — where it takes the fall- 
 ing slide on cloud and dark. In the latter the slide does 
 not change till the cadence requires it, on the last word, 
 adieu. 
 
 11] Rule VI. The rising slide is commonly used 
 at the last pause but one in a sentence. The reason is, 
 that the ear expects the voice to fall when the sense is 
 finished ; and therefore it should rise for the sake of vari- 
 ety and harmony, on the pause that precedes the cadence. 
 —Ex. 
 
 " The minor longs to be at age, then to be a man of business, 
 then to make up an estate, then to arrive at honors, then to retire.'* 
 u Our lives, says Seneca, are spent either in doing nothing at all, 
 or in doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we 
 oiisrht to do." 
 
50 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 
 
 FALLING INFLECTION. 
 
 The general principle suggested under Rule V, is to 
 be borne in mind here. In the various classes of exam- 
 ples under the falling inflection, the reader will perceive 
 the prevailing characteristic of decision and force. So 
 instinctively does bold and strong passion express itself 
 by this turn of voice, that, just so far as the falling slide 
 becomes intensive, it denotes emphatic force. The VIII. 
 IX. and X. rules will illustrate this remark. 
 
 12] Rule VII. The indirect question, or that which 
 is not answered by yes or no, has the falling inflection ; 
 and its answer has the same. 
 
 This sort of question begins with interrogative pronouns 
 and adverbs. Thus Cicero bears down his adversary, 
 by the combined force of interrogation and emphatic se- 
 ries. 
 
 This is an open, honourable challenge to you. Why are you 
 silent ? Why do you prevaricate ? I insist upon this point ; I 
 urge you to it ; press it ; require it ; nay, I demand it of you. 
 
 So in his oration for Ligarius ; 
 
 What, Tubero, did that naked sword of yours mean, in the bat- 
 tle of Pharsalia ? At whose breast was its point aimed ? What 
 was the meaning of your arms, your spirit, your eyes, your hands, 
 your ardour of soul ? 
 
 In conversation there are a few cases where the indi- 
 rect question has the rising slide ; as when one partially 
 hears some remark, and familiarly asks ; What is that ? 
 Who is that ? 
 
 The answer to the indirect question, according to the 
 
INFLECTIONS — FALLING. 57 
 
 general rule, has the falling slide ; though at the expense 
 of harmony ; as, 
 
 Who say the people that I am ? They answering said, John the 
 Baptist; but some say, Ellas; and others say that one of the old 
 prophets is risen again. — Where is boasting then ? It is excluded. — 
 Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? The infernal serpent. 
 
 The want of distinction in elementary books, between 
 that sort of question which turns the voice upward, and 
 that which turns it downward, must have been felt by eve- 
 ry teacher even of children. This distinction is scarcely 
 noticed by the ancients. Augustin, in remarking on the 
 false sense sometimes given to a passage of Scripture by 
 false pronunciation, says, The ancients called that ques- 
 tion interrogation, which is answered by yes or no ; and 
 that percontation, which admits of other answers.* Quinc- 
 tillian, however, says the two terms were used indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 13] Rule V1H. The language 6f authority and ot 
 surprise, is commonly uttered with the falling inflection. 
 Bold and strong passion so much inclines the voice to this 
 slide, that in most of the cases hereafter to be specified, 
 emphatic force is denoted by it. 
 
 1 . The imperative mood, as used to express the com- 
 mands of a superior, denotes that energy of thought which 
 usually requires the falling slide. Thus Milton supposes 
 Gabriel to speak, at the head of his radiant files : 
 
 * He gives an example from Paul, with the pronunciation which 
 he proposes : — " post percontationem, Quis accusabit adversus elec- 
 tos Dei ? illud quod sequitur sono interrogantis enuntietur, Deus 
 qui just ificat ? ut tacite respondeatur, JVon. Ft item percontemur, 
 Quis est qui condemnat ? rursus interrogemus, Christus Jesus, qui 
 moriuus est ? &c. ut ubique tacite respondeatur, JVow." 
 
 De Doctrina Christiana, Lib. Ill Cap, 3. 
 
53 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 
 
 Uzziel ! half these draw off and coast the south, 
 
 With strictest watch ; these other, wheel the north. — 
 
 — Ithuriel and Zephon ! with winged speed 
 
 Search through this garden ; leave unsearched no nook. 
 
 This evening from the sun's decline arrivM 
 
 Who tells of some infernal spirit seen, 
 
 Ilitherward bent : — 
 
 Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring. 
 
 Thus in the battle of Rokeby, young Redmond ad- 
 dressed his soldiers ; 
 
 *Up comrades ! up ! — in Rokeby's halls 
 Ne'er be it said our courage falls. 
 
 No language surpasses the English, in the spirit and 
 vivacity of its imperative mode, and vocative case. These 
 often are found together in the same address ; and when 
 combined with emphasis, separately or united, they have 
 the falling slide, and great strength. 
 
 2. Denunciation and reprehension, on the same princi- 
 ple, commonly require the falling inflection ; as, 
 
 Wo unto you, Pharisees ! for ye love the uppermost seats in the 
 synagogues. Wo unto you, lawyers ! for ye have taken away the 
 key of knowledge. But God said unto him, thou fool ! — this night 
 thy soul shall be required of thee. But Jesus said, Why tempt ye 
 me, ye hypocrites ! Paul said to Elymas, O full of all subtlety, 
 and all mischief ! Thou child of the Devil, —thou enemy of all 
 righteousness ! 
 
 In the beginning of Shakspeare's Julius Cesar. Marul- 
 lus, a patriotic Roman, rinding in the streets some peas- 
 ants, who were keeping holiday, for Cesar's triumph over 
 the liberties of his country, accosted them in this indignant 
 strain ; 
 
 Hence ! — home, you idle creatures, get you home. 
 
 You blocks, you stones ! You worse than senseless things ! 
 
INFLECTIONS FALLING. 59 
 
 This would be tame indeed, should we place the un- 
 emphatic, rising slide on these terms of reproach, thus : 
 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things ! 
 
 The strong reprehension of our Saviour, addressed to 
 the tempter, would lose much of its meaning, if uttered 
 with the gentle, rising slide, thus ; Get thee behind me, Sa- 
 tan. But it becomes very significant, with the emphatic 
 downward inflection ; Get thee behind me, — Satan. 
 
 3. Exclamation, when it does not express tender 
 emotion, nor ask a question, inclines to adopt the falling 
 slide. 
 
 Terror expresses itself in this way. Thus the ap- 
 pearance of the ghost in Hamlet produces the exclama- 
 tion : 
 
 Mngels ! and ministers of grace, — defend us.* 
 
 Exclamation, denoting surprise, or reverence, or dis- 
 tress, — or a combination of these different emotions, gen- 
 erally adopts the falling slide, modified indeed by the de- 
 gree of emotion. For this reason I suppose that Mary, 
 weeping at the sepulchre, when she perceived that the 
 person whom she had mistaken for the gardener, was the 
 risen Saviour himself, exclaimed with the tone of rever- 
 ence and surprise, — Rabbdni ! And the same inflexion 
 probably was used by the leprous men when they cried 
 Jesus, Master ! have mercy on us; instead of the collo- 
 
 * The city watch is startled, not so much by the ivords of dis- 
 tress that echo through the stillness of midnight, as by the tones 
 that denote the reality of that distress ; — " help !--murder !— help !" 
 The man whose own house is in flames, cries, " fire ! — fire V it is 
 only from the truant boy in the streets that we hear the careless 
 exclamation, "fire, fire." 
 
GO INFLECTIONS FALLING. 
 
 quial tone JZsus, Mister, which is commonly used in 
 reading this passage, and which expresses nothing of the 
 distress and earnestness which prompted this cry. These 
 examples are distinguished from the vocative case, when 
 it merely calls to attention, or denotes affection. 
 
 14] Rule IX. Emphatic succession of particulars 
 requires the falling slide.* The reason is, that a distinc- 
 tive utterance is necessary to fix the attention on each 
 particular. The figure asyndeton, or omission of copula- 
 tives, especially when it respects clauses, and not single 
 words, belongs to this class ; as, 
 
 Go and tell John what things ye have seen and heard ; — the 
 blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, 
 the dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached. — Charity 
 suffereth long-, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; charity vaunteth 
 not itself; is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly; 
 seeketh not her own ; is not easily provoked ; thinketh no evil. — 
 Thrice was I beaten with rods ; once was I stoned ; thrice I suf- 
 fered shipwreck ; a night and a day have I been in the deep. 
 
 In each of these examples, all the pauses, except the 
 last but one, (for the sake of harmony,) require the down- 
 ward slide. The polysyndeton, requiring a still more de- 
 liberate pronunciation, adopts the same slide ; as, 
 
 Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, mind, and 
 and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy 
 thy neighbor as thyself. 
 
 Note ] . When the principle of emphatic series in- 
 
 * The loose sentence, though it does not strictly belong to this 
 rule, commonly coincides with it ; because in the appended mem- 
 ber or members, marked by the semicolon or colon, a complete 
 sense, at each of these pauses, is so far expressed as generally to 
 admit the falling- slide. 
 
INFLECTIONS PALLING. 61 
 
 terferes with that of the suspending slide, one or the oth- 
 er prevails, according to the nature of the case. When 
 the structure is hypothetical, and yet the sense is such, 
 and so far formed as to admit emphasis, the falling slide 
 prevails, thus : 
 
 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all 
 mysteries, and all knowledge ; and though I have all faith, so 
 that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am no- 
 thing. 
 
 But when the series begins a sentence, and each particu- 
 lar hangs on something still to come, for its sense, there 
 is so little emphasis that the rising slide, denoting suspen- 
 sion, is required ; thus, — 
 
 The pains of getting, the fear of losing, and the inability of en- 
 joying his wealth, have made the miser a mark of satire, in all 
 ages. 
 
 Note 2. The principle of emphatic series, may form 
 an exception to Rule III. as, 
 
 We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed ; perplexed, 
 but not in despair ; persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but 
 not destroyed.* 
 
 Note 3. Emphatic succession of particulars grows 
 intensive as it goes on ; that is, on each succeeding em- 
 phatic word, the slide has more stress, and a higher note, 
 than on the preceding ; thus, — 
 
 * All Walker's rules of inflection «ts to a series of single ivords, 
 when unemphatic, are in my opinion, worse than useless. No rule 
 of harmonic inflection, that is independent 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 emphasis. 
 
 6 
 
62 INFLECTIONS FALLING. 
 
 I tell you, though X^, though all the XJf though an an- 
 
 should declare the truth of it, I could not be- 
 
 The rising slide, on the contrary, as it occurs in an 
 emphatic series of direct questions, rises higher on each 
 particular, as it proceeds. 
 
 15] Rule X. Emphatic repetition requires the fall- 
 ing slide. 
 
 Whatever inflection is given to a word in the first in- 
 stance, when that word is repeated with stress, it demands 
 the falling slide. Thus in Julius Caesar, Cassius says; 
 
 You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus. 
 The word wrong is slightly emphatic, with the falling 
 slide, in the first clause ; but in the second, it requires a 
 double or triple force of voice, with the same slide on a 
 higher note, to express the meaning strongly. But the 
 principle of this rule is more apparent still, when the re- 
 peated word changes its inflection. Thus I ask one at a 
 distance, Are you going to Boston ? If he tells me that 
 he did not hear my question, I repeat it with the other 
 slide, Are you going to Boston ?* 
 
 * In colloquial language, the point I am illustrating is quite 
 familiar to every ear. The teacher calls a pupil by name in the 
 rising inflection, and not being heard, repeats the call in the fall- 
 ing. The answer to such a call, if it is a mere response, is " Sir ;" 
 — if it expresses doubt, it is «' Sir.^ A question that is not under- 
 stood, is repeated with a louder voice and a change of slide : " Is 
 this your book? Is this your book £»' Little children, with their 
 first elements of speech, make this distinction perfectly. 
 
INFLECTIONS FALLING. 63 
 
 I cannot forbear to say here, though the remark be- 
 longs to style more than to delivery, that while it is the 
 province of dulness to repeat the same thoughts or words, 
 from mere carelessness ; there is scarcely a more vivid 
 figure of rhetoric than repetition, when it springs from 
 genius and emotion. But as the finest strains of music 
 derive increase of spirit and effect from repetition, so in 
 delivery, increase of emotion, demands a correspondent 
 stress and inflection of voice. For this reason, the com- 
 mon method of reading our Saviour's parable of the wise 
 and the foolish builder, with the rising slide on both parts, 
 is much less impressive than that which adopts the falling 
 slide with increase of stress on the series of particulars as 
 repeated. 
 
 Whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I 
 will liken him unto a wise man which built his house upon a rock : 
 and the rains descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, 
 and beat upon that house, and it fell not, — for it was founded upon 
 a rock. And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and 
 doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, that built his 
 house upon the sand : and the rain descended, and the floods came, 
 and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell ; — and 
 great was the fall of it. 
 
 16] Rule XI. The final pause requires the falling 
 slide. 
 
 That dropping of the voice which denotes the sense 
 to be finished, is so commonly expected by the ear, that 
 the worst readers make a cadence of some sort, at the 
 close of a sentence. In respect to this, some general 
 faults may be guarded against, though it is not possible to 
 tell in absolute terms what a good cadence is; because, 
 in different circumstances, it is modified by different prin- 
 ciples of elocution. The most common fault in the ca- 
 
G4 INFLECTIONS RISING. 
 
 dence of bad speakers, consists in dropping the voice too 
 uniformly to the same note. The next consists in drop- 
 ping it too much. The next, in dropping it too far from 
 the end of the sentence, or beginning the cadence too 
 soon ; and another still consists in that feeble and indis- 
 tinct manner of closing sentences, which is common to 
 men unskilled in managing the voice. We should take 
 care also to mark the difference between that downward 
 turn of the voice which occurs at the falling slide in the 
 middle of a sentence, and that which occurs at the close. 
 The latter is made on a lower note, and if emphasis is ab- 
 sent, with less spirit than the former ; As, " This heaven- 
 ly benefactor claims, not the homage of our lips, but of 
 our hearts ; and who can doubt that he is entitled to the 
 homage of our hearts." Here the word hearts has the 
 same slide in the middle of the sentence as at the close. 
 Though it has a much lower note in the latter case than 
 in the former. 
 
 It must be observed too that the final pause does not 
 always require a cadence. When the strong emphasis 
 with the falling slide comes near the end of a sentence, 
 it turns the voice upward at the close; as, "If we have 
 no regard to our own character, we ought to have some 
 regard to the character of others" " You were paid to 
 jftght against Alexander, not to rail at him." This is a 
 departure from a general rule of elocution ; but it is only 
 one case among many, in which emphasis asserts its su- 
 premacy over any other principle that interferes with its 
 claims. Indeed, any one who has given but little attention 
 to this point, would be surprised to observe accurately. 
 
CIRCUMFLEX. 65 
 
 how often sentences are closed, in conversation, without 
 any proper cadence ; the voice being carried to a high 
 note, on the last word, sometimes with the falling, and 
 sometimes with the rising slide. 
 
 CIRCUMFLEX. 
 
 17] Rule. XII. The circumflex occurs chiefly 
 where the language is hypothetical. 
 
 The most common use of it is to express indefinitely 
 or conditionally some idea that is contrasted with another 
 idea expressed or understood, to which the falling slide 
 belongs ; thus ; — Hume said he would go twenty miles, to 
 hear TVhiteficld preach. The contrast suggested by the 
 circumflex here is ; though he would take no pains to 
 hear a common preacher. You ask a physician concern- 
 ing your friend who is dangerousty sick, and receive this 
 reply. — He is better. The circumflex denotes only a 
 partial, doubtful amendment, and implies But he is still 
 dangerously sick. The same turn of Voice occurs in the 
 following example, on the word importunity. 
 
 Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, 
 yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many 
 as he needeth. 
 
 This circumflex, when indistinct, coincides nearly 
 with the rising slide ; when distinct, it denotes qualified 
 affirmation instead of that which is positive as marked by 
 the falling slide. This hint suggests a much more perfect 
 rule than that of Walker, by which to ascertain the proper 
 slide under the emphasis ; but it is not the proper place 
 here to elucidate this point. 
 6* 
 
CHAP. IV. 
 
 ACCENT. 
 
 18] Accent is a stress laid on particular syllables* 
 to promote harmony and distinctness of articulation. 
 The syllable on which accent shall be placed, is deter- 
 mined by custom ; and that without any regard to the 
 meaning of words, except in these few cases. 
 
 First, where the same word in form, has a different 
 sense, according to the seat of the accent. This may be 
 the case while the word continues to be the same part of 
 speech, as desert, (a wilderness) desert', (merit) — to 
 conjure, (to use magic) to conjure, (to entreat). Or 
 the accent may distinguish between the same word used 
 as a noun or an adjective ; as com'pact, (an agreement) 
 compact', (close) min'ute, (of time) minute', (small). 
 Or it may distinguish the noun from the verb, thus : 
 
 Abstract 
 
 to abstract' 
 
 ex'port 
 
 to export' 
 
 coin'pound 
 
 to compound' 
 
 ex'tract 
 
 to extract' 
 
 com'press 
 
 to compress' 
 
 im'port 
 
 to import' 
 
 con'cert 
 
 to concert' 
 
 in'cense 
 
 to incense' 
 
 con 7 duct 
 
 to conduct' 
 
 in'sult 
 
 to insult' 
 
 con'fine 
 
 to confine' 
 
 ob'ject 
 
 to object' 
 
 con'tract 
 
 to contract' 
 
 pres'ent 
 
 to present' 
 
 con'trast 
 
 to contrast' 
 
 proj'ect 
 
 to project' 
 
 con'vert 
 
 to convert' 
 
 reb'el 
 
 to rebel' 
 
 con'vict 
 
 to convict' 
 
 tor'ment 
 
 to torment' 
 
 digest 
 
 to digestf 
 
 trans'port 
 
 to transporl 
 
ACCENT. 67 
 
 The province of emphasis is so much more important 
 than that of accent that the customary seat of the latter is 
 transposed in any case where the claims of emphasis re- 
 quire it. This takes place chiefly in words which have 
 a partial sameness in form, but are contrasted in sense. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 He must increase, but I must decrease. 
 
 This corruptible must put on incorruption ; and this mortal 
 must put on immortality. 
 
 What fellowship hath righteousness with -unrighteousness ? 
 
 Consider well what you hare done, and what you have left 
 Undone. 
 
 He that ascended is the same as he that descended. 
 
 The difference in this case, is no less than betwixt decency and 
 indecency ; betwixt reZigion and irreligion. 
 
 In the sui/ableness or -unsuitableness, the proportion or dispro- 
 portion of the affection to the object which excites it, consists the 
 propriety or impropriety of the consequent action.* 
 
 With those considerations respecting accent which 
 belong especially to the grammarian, we have no con- 
 cern. As connected with articulation, the influence of 
 accent was briefly discussed, [2] page 28. As connect- 
 ed with inflection, an additional remark seems necessary 
 here. The accented syllable of a word is always uttered 
 with a louder note than the rest. When this syllable has 
 the rising inflection, the slide continues upward till the 
 word is finished ; so that when several syllables of a word 
 follow the accent, they rise to 'a higher note than that 
 which is accented ; and when the accented syllable is the 
 
 * In this last example, the latter accented word in each of the 
 couplets, perhaps would be more exactly marked with the circum- 
 flex ; the same case occurs often, as in p. 64, last paragraph. 
 
69 ACCENT. 
 
 last in a word, it is also the highest. But when the ac- 
 cented syllable has the falling slide, it is ahv'ays struck 
 with a higher note than any other syllable in that word. 
 The reader may easily understand this remark by turning 
 to the example, page 50, at the bottom ; and then framing 
 for himself other examples, with an accent in the middle 
 of a long word ; as, 
 
 Did he dare to propose such interrogatories ? 
 
 Here the slide which begins on rog continues to rise on 
 the three following syllables ; whereas in the question, 
 Will you go toddy? the same slide terminates with the 
 syllable on which it begins. But no example can be 
 framed with the falling inflection, (the cadence only ex- 
 cepted,) in which the accented syllable, where the slide 
 begins, is not higher than any other syllable before or af- 
 ter it.* This remark furnishes another opportunity to 
 correct the very common mistake of those who think the 
 falling inflection to consist in a sudden dropping of the 
 voice, whereas it consists in sliding it down, and that from 
 a high note, whenever there is intensive stress. 
 
 * I dwell a little on the above distinction, because, in my opin- 
 ion, Walker, and Ewing after him, have stated it incorrectly. 
 
CHAP. V. 
 
 EMPHASIS. 
 
 One elementary principle which has been more than 
 once suggested already, respecting management of the 
 voice, deserves to be repeated here, because of its direct 
 bearing on the subject of this chapter and the next. 
 
 No useful purpose can be answered by attempting to 
 establish any system of inflections in reading and speak- 
 ing, except so far as these inflections do actually accom- 
 pany, in good speakers, the spontaneous expression of 
 sentiment and emotion. We say without any scruple, 
 that certain feelings of the speaker are commonly ex- 
 pressed with certain modifications of voice. These mod- 
 ifications we can describe in a manner not difficult to be 
 understood. But here a serious obstacle meets us. The 
 pupil is told how emotion speaks in a given case, and then 
 he attempts to do the same thing without emotion. But 
 great as this difficulty is, it is not peculiar to any one 
 mode of instruction 5 it attends every system of elocution 
 that can be devised. Take, for example, the standing 
 canon, be natural, which for ages has been thought the 
 ouly adequate direction in delivery. This maxim is just ; 
 it is simple ; it is easily repeated by a teacher ; — -but who 
 does not know that it has been repeated a thousand times 
 without any practical advantage f What is it to be natu- 
 ral ? It is so to speak that the modifications of voice. 
 
70 EMPHASIS. 
 
 shall be such as feeling demands. But here is the same 
 obstacle as before ; — the pupil attempts to be natural in 
 speaking, and fails, just because he attempts to do what 
 feeling demands, without feeling. This intrinsic difficul- 
 ty accompanies every theory on this subject, even when 
 no perverted habits of voice are to be encountered, and 
 much more where such habits exist. The only remedy 
 to be relied on is that which I have briefly urged in an- 
 other place. The Teacher, who would give his pupils a 
 just emphasis and modulation, must unceasingly impress 
 on them the importance of entering with feeling into the 
 sentiments which they are to utter. 
 
 Emphasis is governed by the laws of sentiment, be- 
 ing inseparably associated with thought and emotion. It 
 is the most important principle, by which elocution is re- 
 lated to the operations of mind. Hence when it stands 
 opposed to the claims of custom or of harmony, these al- 
 ways give way to its supremacy. The accent which cus- 
 tom attaches to a word, emphasis may supersede ; as we 
 have seen under the foregoing article. Custom requires 
 a cadence at the final pause, but emphasis often turns the 
 voice upward at the end of a sentence ; as, 
 
 You was paid to fight against Alexander, not to rail at him. 
 
 see [16] p. 64. Harmony requires the voice to rise at the 
 pause before the cadence ; whereas emphasis sometimes 
 prescribes the falling slide at this pause, to enforce the 
 sense ; as, 
 
 Better to reign in fteZZ, than serve in heaven. 
 
 Now I presume that every one who is at all accus- 
 tomed to accurate observation on this subject, must be 
 
EMPHATIC STRESS. 71 
 
 sensible how very little this grand principle is regarded in 
 forming our earliest habits of elocution ; and therefore 
 how hopeless are all efforts to correct what is wrong in 
 these habits, without a just knowledge of emphasis. 
 
 What then is emphasis ? Without staying to assign 
 reasons why I am dissatisfied with definitions heretofore 
 given by respectable writers, the following is offered as 
 more complete, in my opinion, than others which I have 
 seen. Emphasis is a distinctive utterance of words which 
 are especially significant, with such a degree and kind of 
 stress, as conveys their meaning in the best manner. 
 
 According to this definition, I would include the whole 
 subject under emphatic stress and emphatic inflection. 
 
 19] Sect. 1. — Emphatic Stress. 
 
 This consists chiefly in the loudness of the note, but 
 includes also the time in which important words are utter- 
 ed. Both these are commonly united ; but the latter, 
 since it will require some notice when I come to speak of 
 rate and emphatic pause, may be dismissed here, as to its 
 separate consideration, with a single remark. A good 
 reader or speaker, when he utters a word on which the 
 meaning of a sentence is suspended, spontaneously dwells 
 on that word, or gives it more time, according to the in- 
 tensity of its meaning. The significance and weight 
 which he thus attaches to words that are important, is a 
 very different thing from the abrupt and jerking empha- 
 sis, which is often witnessed in a bad delivery. Bearing 
 this fact in mind, we may proceed to consider, more par- 
 ticularly why emphatic stress belongs to some words, and 
 not to others. 
 
72 EMPHATIC STRESS. 
 
 The indefinite description which was formerly given 
 of emphasis, as ' a stress laid on one or more words to 
 distinguish them from others,' was attended with a corres- 
 pondent confusion in practice. In some books of elocu- 
 tion more than half the words were printed in Italics, and 
 regarded as equally emphatical. To remedy so great a 
 fault Walker proposed his threefold classification of words, 
 i as pronounced with emphatic force, accented force, or 
 unaccented force.' The first he considered as belonging 
 to words of peculiar significance ; the second to nouns, 
 verbs, &c. — the third to connectives and particles. But 
 these distinctions, after all, leave a very plain subject in 
 obscurity ; for it is enough to say that emphatic force is 
 to be governed solely by sense ; and that the word, to 
 whatever part of speech it belongs, which renders but lit- 
 tle aid in forming the sense, should be passed over with 
 but little stress of voice. It is indeed generally true that 
 a subordinate rank belongs to particles and to all those 
 words which merely express some circumstance of a 
 thought. And when a word of this sort is raised above 
 its relative importance by an undue stress in pronuncia- 
 tion, we perceive a violence done to other w T ords of more 
 significance ; and we hardly admit even the metrical ac- 
 cent of poetry to be any excuse for so obvious an offence 
 against propriety. One example of this sort we have in 
 the common manner of reading this couplet of Watts — 
 
 Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, 
 Let a repenting rebel live. 
 
 This stress upon a, in the second line, shows the absence 
 of just discrimination in the reader.* 
 
 * I beg leave to ask here, if it shows want of taste in the reader, 
 in such a case, to sacrifice the sense to the syllabic accent of po- 
 
EMPHATIC STRESS. 7J 
 
 But to show that emphasis attaches itself not to the 
 part of speech, but to the meaning of a word, let one of 
 these little words become important in sense, and then it 
 demands a correspondent stress of voice. 
 
 We have an example in the two following sentences, 
 ending with the particle so. In one it is used incidentally, 
 and is barely to be spoken distinctly. In the other it is 
 the chief word, and must be spoken forcibly. " And Saul 
 said unto Michal, why hast thou deceived me so ?" " Then 
 said the high priest, are these things so ?" 
 
 Another example may show how a change of stress 
 on a particle changes the entire sense of a sentence. In 
 the narrative of Paul's voyage from Troas to Jerusalem, 
 it is said, " Paul had determined to sail by Ephesus." 
 This sentence, with a moderate stress on Ephesus, im- 
 plies that the Apostle meant to stop there ; just as a com- 
 mon phrase, " the ship is going to Holland by Liverpool," 
 — implies that she will touch at the latter place. 
 
 Now what was the fact in the case of Paul ? The 
 
 etry, why is it, that, in the sister art of music, as applied to metri- 
 cal psalmody, no practical distinction is made between accent and 
 emphasis ? On the contrary, a choir is so trained in psalmody, as 
 not to reflect whether one word has more meaning than another, 
 but whether its relative position requires strong or feeble utterance. 
 Thus a full volume of sound is poured out on a preposition, for ex- 
 ample, just because it happens to coincide with a musical note at 
 the beginning of a bar. Illustrations of this are so many that they 
 may be taken almost at random. In the Hymn beginning, 
 
 God of the morning, at whose voice, 
 the musical accent, in many tunes would recur four times during 
 the line, and two of these on prepositions. But is there no philos- 
 ophy and rhetoric in music ? Is the spirit of this divine art to be 
 rigidly tied down by mere rules of harmony and metrical stress ? 
 Music is but an elegant and charming species of elocution. And, 
 important as accent is, it should never contravene the laws of sen- 
 timent in the former, more than in the latter art. 
 7 
 
74 EMPHATIC STRESS. 
 
 historian says, " he hasted to be at Jerusalem, on the day 
 of Pentecost." Therefore he could not afford the time 
 it would require to visit his dear friends, the Ephesian 
 church, and he chose to pursue his voyage without see- 
 ing them. But can the words be made to express this 
 sense ? Perfectly ; — and that with only an increase of 
 stress on one particle. " Paul had determined to sail by 
 Ephesus." 
 
 Another example shows us a succession of small words 
 raised to importance, by becoming peculiarly significant. 
 In Shakspeare's Merchant of Venice, Bassanio had re- 
 ceived a ring from his wife, with the strongest protestation 
 that it should never part from his finger ; but, in a mo- 
 ment of generous gratitude for the preservation of his 
 friend's life, he forgot this promise, and gave the ring to 
 the officer to whose kind interposition he ascribed that 
 deliverance. With great mortification at the act, he after- 
 wards made the following apology to his wife, an unem- 
 phatic pronunciation of which leaves it scarcely intelligi- 
 ble ; while distinct emphasis on a few small words gives 
 it precision and vivacity, thus : 
 
 If you did knew to whom I gave the ring-, 
 
 If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
 
 When nought would he accepted but the ring, 
 
 You would abate toe strength of your displeasure. 
 
 In the case that follows too, we see how the meaning 
 of a sentence often depends on the manner in which we 
 utter one short word. " One of the servants of the high 
 priest, (being his kinsman whose ear Peter cut off,) saith, 
 
EMPHATIC STRESS. 75 
 
 did not I see thee in the garden with him ?" Now if we 
 utter this as most readers do, with a stress on kinsman, 
 and a short pause after it, we make the sentence affirm 
 that the man whose ear Peter cut off was kinsman to the 
 high priest, which was not the fact. But a stress upon Ms, 
 makes this servant, kinsman to another man, who receiv- 
 ed the wound. 
 
 One more example may suffice, on this point. When 
 our Saviour said to Peter ; — " Lovest thou me more than 
 these ?" — he probably referred to the confident professions 
 of his own attachment to Christ, which this apostle had 
 presumed would remain unshaken, though that of his breth- 
 ren should fail ; but which professions he had wofully vio- 
 lated in the hour of trial. If this is the spirit of the ques- 
 tion, it is a tender but severe admonition, which would be 
 expressed by emphasis, thus ; " Lovest thou me, more 
 than these ?" that is, more than thy brethren love me ? 
 
 But respectable interpreters have supposed the ques- 
 tion to refer to Peter's affection merely, and to contrast 
 two objects of that affection ; and this would change the 
 emphasis thus ; — " Lovest thou me more than these $" — 
 that is, more than thou lovest thy brethren ? 
 
 These illustrations show that the principle of emphat- 
 ic stress is perfectly simple ; and that it falls on a partic- 
 ular word, not chiefly because that word belongs to one 
 or another class in grammar, but because, in the present 
 case, it is important in sense. To designate the words 
 that are thus important, by the action of the voice in em- 
 phasis, is just what the etymological import of this term 
 implies, namely, to show, to point out, to make manifest. 
 
 But farther to elucidate a subject, that has been treat- 
 
70 EMPHATIC STRESS. 
 
 ed with much obscurity, emphatic stress may be distin- 
 guished into that which is absolute, and that which is an- 
 tithetic or relative. 
 
 20] 1. Absolute emphatic stress. 
 Walker, and others who have been implicitly guided 
 by his authority, without examination, lay down the broad 
 position, that emphasis always implies antithesis ; and that 
 it can never be proper to give emphatic stress to a word, 
 unless it stands opposed to something in sense. Accor- 
 dingly, to find the emphasis in a sentence, the direction 
 given is, to take the word we suppose to be emphatical, 
 and try if it will admit of those words being supplied, 
 which antithesis would demand ; and if the words thus 
 supplied, agree with the meaning of the writer, the em- 
 phasis is laid properly, — otherwise, improperly. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Exercise and temperance strengthen even an indifferent consti- 
 tution. 
 
 The emphatic word here suggests, as the antithetic 
 clause to be supplied ; — not merely a good constitution ; 
 and this accords with the meaning of the writer. 
 
 Now the error of these treatises is, that what in truth 
 is only one important ground of emphasis, is made the 
 sole, and the universal ground. Indeed, if it were admit- 
 ted that there is no emphasis without antithesis, it would 
 by no means follow, (as I shall show under emphatic in- 
 flection,) that all cases of opposition in thought are to be 
 analysed in the mode above proposed. But the princi- 
 ple assumed cannot be admitted ; for to say that there is 
 
EMPHATIC STRESS. 77 
 
 no absolute emphasis, is to say that a thought is never im- 
 portant, considered by itself; or that the figure of con- 
 trast is the only way in which a thought can be express- 
 ed with force. The theory which supposes this, is too 
 narrow to correspond with the philosophy of elocution. 
 Emphasis is the soul of delivery, because it is the most 
 discriminating mark of emotion. Contrast is among the 
 sources of emotion : and the kind of contrast really in- 
 tended by Walker and others, namely, that of affirmation 
 and negation, it is peculiarly the province of emphasis to 
 designate. But this is not the whole of its province. 
 There are other sources, besides antithetic relation, from 
 which the mind receives strong and vivid impressions, 
 which it is the office of vocal language to express. Thus 
 exclamation, apostrophe, and bold figures in general, de- 
 noting high emotion, demand a correspondent force in 
 pronunciation ; and that too in many cases where the em- 
 phatic force laid on a word is absolute, because the thought 
 expressed by that word is forcible of itself, without any 
 aid from contrast. Of this the reader may be satisfied 
 by turning to [13] p. 57, and noting such examples as 
 these : 
 
 *Up ! comrades, — up ! — 
 
 Wo unto you, Pharisees ! — 
 
 Hence ! — home, you idle creatures, — 
 
 •Angels ! and ministers of grace, — defend us.* 
 
 • The following anecdote of Whitefield, which is probably fa- 
 miliar to most readers, contains an illustration altogether to my 
 purpose. It is a passage repeated by Hume, from the close of a 
 sermon which he heard from that preacher. " After a solemn 
 pause, Mr. Whitefield thus addressed his numerous audience : l The 
 attendant angel is just about to leave the threshold, and ascend to 
 7* 
 
78 RELATIVE STRESS. 
 
 Now, in such a case, we may speculate on the em- 
 phatic force of the exclamation, and ' try if the sense will 
 admit some antithetic clause to be supplied ;' but it is mere 
 trifling. The truth is, when strong passion speaks, it 
 speaks strongly, and, if no untoward habit intervenes, 
 speaks with just that degree and kind of stress which the 
 passion itself demands. 
 
 21] 2. Antithetic or relative stress. 
 
 Though we cannot consider opposition in sense as 
 the exclusive ground of strong emphasis, it is doubtless a 
 more common one than any other. The principle on 
 which the stress depends in this case, will be evident from 
 a few examples. 
 
 Study, not so much to show knowledge as to acquire it. 
 
 He that cannot bear a jest, should not make one. 
 
 It is not so easy to hide one's faults, as to mend them. 
 
 We think less of the injuries we do, than of those we suffer. 
 
 It is not so difficult to talk well, as to live well. 
 
 We must take heed not only to what we say, but to what we do. 
 
 In these short sentences the antithetic words, requir- 
 ing emphatic force, are so obvious that they can hard- 
 ly be mistaken by any one. When the antithetic terms 
 in a sentence, are both expressed, the mind instantly per- 
 
 heaven. And shall he ascend, and not bear with him the news of 
 one sinner, among- all this multitude, reclaimed from the error of 
 his ways ?' Then he stamped with his foot, lifted up his hands and 
 eyes to heaven, and with gushing tears, cried aloud, — ' Stop, Ga- 
 briel ! stop, Gabriel ! stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and 
 yet carry with you the news of one sinner converted to God.' " 
 The high emotion of the speaker in this case, and the powers of 
 utterance with which that emotion was expressed, melted the as- 
 sembly into tears. 
 
RELATIVE STRESS. 79 
 
 ceives the opposition between them, and the voice as 
 readily marks the proper distinction. But when only one 
 of these terms is expressed, the other is to be made out 
 by reflection ; and in proportion to the ease or difficulty 
 with which this antithetic relation is perceived by the 
 mind, the emphatic sense is more or less vivid. On this 
 principle, when a word expresses one part of a contrast, 
 while it only suggests the other, that word must he spok- 
 en with a force adapted to its peculiar office ; and this is 
 the very case where the power of emphasis rises to its 
 highest point. This part of the subject too may be ren- 
 dered more intelligible by a few examples. 
 
 Shakspeare's Julius Caesar furnishes several which 
 are sufficiently appropriate. In the scene betwixt Bru- 
 tus and Cassius, the latter says, 
 
 I that deny'd thee gold, will give my heart. 
 Here the antithetic terms gold and heart, being both ex- 
 pressed, a common emphatic stress on these makes the sense 
 obvious. But in the following case, only one part of the 
 antithesis is expressed. Brutus says, 
 
 You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a case. 
 The strong emphasis on yourself, implies that Cassius 
 thought himself injured by some other person. Accord- 
 ingly we see in the preceding sentence his charge against 
 Brutus, — " you have wronged me." 
 Again, Brutus says to Cassius, 
 
 You have done that you should be sorry for. 
 With a slight stress upon sorry, this implies that he had 
 done wrong ; but suggests nothing of the antithetic mean- 
 ing denoted by the true emphasis, thus, 
 
 You have done that you should be sorry for. 
 
80 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 
 
 This emphasis on the former word implies, " Not only 
 are you liable to do wrong, but you have done so alrea- 
 dy ;" on the latter it implies, " though you are not softy, 
 you ought to be sorry." This was precisely the mean- 
 ing of Brutus, for he replied to a threat of Cassius," I 
 may do that I shall be sorry for." 
 
 One more example from the same source. Marul- 
 lus, alluding to the reverence in which Pompey had been 
 held, says, 
 
 And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
 Have you not made an universal shout ? 
 
 Lay a stress now on his in the first line, and you make a 
 contrast betwixt the emotion felt in seeing other chariots, 
 and in seeing Pompeyh. Lay the stress on chariot, and 
 it is not implied that there was any other besides his in 
 Rome ; for then the antithesis suggested is, the sight, not 
 of his person merely, but of the vehicle in which he rode, 
 produced a shout. 
 
 22] Sect. 2. — Emphatic Inflection. 
 
 Thus far our view of emphasis has been limited to the 
 degree of stress with which emphatic words are spoken. 
 But this is only a part of the subject. The kind of stress 
 is not less important to the sense than the degree. Let 
 any one glance his eye over the examples of the forego- 
 ing pages, and he will see that strong emphasis demands, 
 in all cases, an appropriate inflection ; and that to change 
 this inflection perverts the sense. This will be perceived 
 at once in the following case, " We must take heed not on- 
 ly to what we say, but to what we do." By changing 
 
EMPHATIC INFLECTION. SI 
 
 ! this slide, and laying the falling on say and the rising on do, 
 every ear must feel that violence is done to the meaning. 
 i So in this case, 
 
 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars ; 
 But in ourselves, that we are underlings ; 
 
 the rising inflection or circumflex on stars and the falling 
 inflection on ourselves is so indispensable, that no reader 
 of the least taste would mistake the one for the other. 
 The fact in these instances however is, that wrong inflec- 
 tion confounds the true sense, rather than expresses a false 
 one. Let us then take an example or too in which the 
 whole meaning of a sentence depends on the inflection 
 given to a single word. Buchanan while at the Univer- 
 | sity, said, in a letter to a Christian friend, 
 
 In the retirement of a college, I am unable to suppress evil 
 thoughts. 
 
 Here the emphatic downward slide being given to college, 
 expresses the true sense, namely, " How difficult must it 
 be to keep my heart from evil thoughts amid the tempta- 
 tions of the world, when I cannot do this even in the re- 
 tirement of a college." But lay the circumflex on col- 
 lege, thus ; " In the retirement of a college, I cannot sup- 
 press evil thoughts ;" and you transform the meaning to 
 this, " I cannot suppress evil thoughts here, in retirement, 
 though I might perhaps do it amid the temptations of the 
 world." 
 
 In the fair penitent Horatio says, 
 
 I would not turn aside from my least pleasure, 
 Though all thy force were aimed to bar my way. 
 
 The circumflex on thy implies sneer and scorn. " I might 
 
82 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 
 
 turn aside for respectable opposition, but not for such as 
 thine." But the falling slide on thy turns contempt into 
 compliment. " I would not turn aside even for thy force, 
 great as it is." 
 
 One more question remains to be answered ; how 
 shall we know when an emphatic word demands the ris- 
 ing, and when the falling inflection? A brief reply to 
 this inquiry seems indispensable, before we drop this part 
 of the subject. 
 
 On this point, the " grand distinction" of Walker, as 
 he calls it, is ; — " The falling inflection affirms something 
 in the emphasis, and denies what is opposed to it in the 
 antithesis ; while the emphasis with the rising inflection, 
 affirms something in the emphasis, without denying what is 
 opposed to it in the antithesis." 
 
 I have always considered it a great infelicity that the 
 many excellent remarks of this writer on emphatic inflec- 
 tion, are so destitute of intelligible classification. On his 
 theory which makes antithesis essential to emphasis, uni- 
 versally, and antithesis too by affirmation and negation, — 
 the amount of more than twenty pages, designed to illus- 
 trate the above position is simply this ; — When affirmation 
 is opposed to negation, — the emphatic word or clause 
 which affirms, has the falling inflection, and that which 
 denies, the rising. This is so plainly an elementary prin- 
 ciple of vocal inflection, as I have shown [7] p. 49, that 
 it requires no farther remark, except this one, that the 
 case here supposed implies strong, positive affirmation. 
 
 But the ingenious writer above named perceived that 
 there was still something to be explained about a part of 
 this subject ; and therefore extended his canon concern- 
 
EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 83 
 
 ing the emphasis with the rising inflection by saying, " that 
 it affirms something in the emphasis without denying what 
 is opposed to it in the antithesis." That the illustration 
 of this point should be dark to his readers is not strange, 
 since it evidently was so to himself. The first step he 
 takes is to give an example, which unfortunately contra- 
 dicts the theory it was designed to establish. 
 
 'Twas base and poor, unworthy of a man, 
 To forge a scroll so villanous and loose. 
 
 His commentary on this emphasis is — " Unworthy of a 
 man, though not unworthy of a brute." In repeating this, 
 most certainly I both affirm and deny. I affirm that a 
 certain act is unworthy of a man, and deny that it is un- 
 worthy of a brute. What then becomes of the rule just 
 stated ? 
 
 Besides, if the rising emphatic inflection affirms on 
 one side, without denying on the other, what becomes of 
 the antithesis ? — and w T hat becomes of the broad position, 
 that without antithesis there can be no emphasis ? The 
 truth is that this position being erroneous, the " intrica- 
 cies of distinction" resulting from it are needless. One 
 who is familiar with the simple rules of inflection, can sel- 
 dom mistake as to the proper slide on an emphatic word. 
 The voice instinctively accompanies emphatic, positive 
 affirmation with the falling slide, and the antithetic nega- 
 tion with the rising. 
 
 But there is a large class of sentences, in which qual- 
 ified affirmation demands the rising turn of voice, often 
 where an antithetic object is suggested or expressed hypo- 
 thetically. Having seen no satisfactory explanation of the 
 
 
S4 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 
 
 rising emphasis which occurs in such cases, I will briefly 
 suggest my own thoughts on this point. And it should 
 be premised that it is not the simple rising slide, but the 
 circumflex, which designates this sort of emphasis. The 
 two indeed, as I have said before, may fall on shades of 
 thought so nearly the same, that it is immaterial which is 
 used ; while in other cases the office of the circumflex is 
 so peculiar as to make it quite perceptible to an ear of 
 any discrimination. In examples like the following, 
 
 We should seek to mend our faults, not to hide them. 
 
 You were paid to fight against Alexander, not to rail at him ; 
 
 it has been usual to mark the rising emphasis, with the 
 simple slide upward ; whereas in unaffected conversation, 
 the twist of the circumflex is generally heard, in such ca- 
 ses. 
 
 With this preliminary remark, I proceed to say, that 
 the plain distinction between the rising and the falling em- 
 phasis, when antithetic relation is expressed or suggested, 
 is, the falling denotes positive affirmation, or enunciation 
 of a thought with energy ; the rising either expresses ne- 
 gation, or qualified and conditional affirmation. In the 
 latter case the antithetic object, if there is one, may be 
 suggested ironically, or hypothetically, or comparatively ; 
 thus — Ironically ; 
 
 They tell its to be moderate ; but they, they are to revel in pro- 
 fusion. 
 
 Hypothetically ; 
 
 If men see our faults, they will talk among themselves, though 
 we refuse to let them talk to us. 
 
 I see thou hast learnM to rati. 
 
EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 85 
 
 In this latter example, the hypothetical affirmation re- 
 quires the circumflex on the emphasis, while the indefi- 
 nite antithesis is not expressed, as in the preceding exam- 
 ple, but suggested ; " Thou hast learn'd to rail, if thou 
 hast not learn'd any thing better than this." 
 
 Comparatively ; 
 
 Satan 
 
 The tempter, ere the accuser of mankind. 
 
 The beggar was blind as well as lame. 
 
 He is more knave than fool. 
 
 Caesar deserved blame more than fame. 
 
 Now if any one chooses to ask the reason why these em- 
 phatic inflections occur in this order, he may see it per- 
 haps by a bare inspection of the foregoing examples to- 
 gether. In such a connexion of two correlate words, 
 whether in contrast or comparison, the most prominent of 
 the two in sense, that in which the essence of the thought 
 lies, commonly has the strong, falling emphasis ; and that 
 which expresses something subordinate or circumstantial, 
 has the rising. The same rising or circumflex emphasis 
 prevails where the thought is conditional, or something is 
 implied or insinuated, rather than strongly expressed. 
 Negative clauses perhaps so generally fall into this class 
 of inflections because they are so often only explanatory 
 of the main thought. 
 
 As the foregoing remarks have been confined chiefly 
 to the inflection of relative emphasis, the reader may ex- 
 pect me to dwell a little on the same point, as connected 
 with absolute emphasis. 
 
 Here the examples to be adduced will be a farther 
 8 
 
86 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 
 
 refutation of the theory which restricts emphasis wholly 
 to antithesis by affirmation and denial. If this theory 
 were correct, there would be no emphatic stress nor in- 
 flection in the following cases ; 
 
 1 . Of apposition ; 
 
 •Simon, Son of Jdnas, — -lovest thou rae ? 
 
 To affirm this, is to contradict Paul, the Apostle. 
 
 In the multiplied cases of this sort, where two names 
 are used for the same person, surely the ground of em- 
 phasis on both, is not opposition in sense. 
 
 2. Of the indirect question and its answer. 
 
 Who first seduced them to that foul revolt ? 
 
 The infernal serpent.— 
 
 Where is boasting then ? — It is excluded. 
 
 Here again the emphasis is absolute. 
 
 3. Of the direct question and its answer. 
 
 In Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, the indignant Marullus 
 thus chides the citizens for their blind adoration of Caesar $ 
 O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 
 Knew ye not P6mpey ? 
 
 So afterwards, — 
 
 And do you now strew flowers in his way, 
 That comes in triumph over Pompey's bldod ? 
 
 Again,— 
 
 Are they Hebrews ?— So am J\ 
 
 Shall Rome be taken, while I am Cdnsul ? — No. 
 
 In both sorts of question, there is indeed what may 
 properly be termed contrast ; and in the direct question, 
 l his contrast between question and answer is marked by 
 
EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 87 
 
 opposite inflection. But this is a case that does not at all 
 come within Mr. Walker's rule, — "That the falling inflec- 
 tion affirms something in the emphasis, and denies what 
 is opposed to it in the antithesis ; and the rising affirms 
 without such denial." Let this rule be tried by the fore- 
 going examples, and it will be apparent that no antithesis 
 by affirmation and denial can be made out in any of them, 
 except by an effort of fancy. Take that one ending, — 
 " Know ye not Pompey ?" and instead of puzzling the 
 mind to discover what is affirmed in this rising emphasis, 
 and what is not denied in a supposed antithesis, how much 
 easier is it to say, — the case falls under that general law 
 of interrogative inflection, which always inclines the voice 
 upward. 
 
 But these illustrations need not be extended. The 
 amount is, that generally the weaker emphasis, where 
 there is tender, or conditional, or partial enunciation of 
 thought, requires the voice to rise : while the strong em- 
 phasis, where the thought is bold, and the language posi- 
 tive, adopts the falling slide, except where some counter- 
 acting principle occurs, as in the interrogative inflection 
 just mentioned. Emphatic inflection varies according to 
 those general laws of the voice which I have endeavored 
 to describe at some length, Chap. III. p. 42 — 65. For 
 these varieties we may assign good reasons, in some ca- 
 ses ; while in others we must stop with the fact, that such 
 are the settled usages of elocution ; and in others still, we 
 can only say such are the instinctive principles of vocal 
 intonation.* In all such cases, explanation becomes ob- 
 
 * A technical sense of this word, seems indispensable. 
 
88 EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 
 
 scurity, if carried out of its proper limits. Beyond these, 
 I can no more tell why sorrow or supplication incline the 
 voice to the rising slide, while indignation or command in- 
 cline it to the falling, than I can tell why one emotion 
 flashes in the eye, and another vents itself in tears. Nor 
 is it reasonable to demand such explanations on this sub- 
 ject as are not expected on any other. The logician rests 
 in his consciousness and his experience as the basis of ar- 
 gument ; and philosophy no more requires or allows us 
 to push our inquiries beyond first principles or facts, in el- 
 ocution, than in logic. 
 
 23] In closing these remarks on emphatic inflection, 
 the reader should be reminded that the distinction sug- 
 gested p. 43, between the common and the intensive in- 
 flection, applies to every part of the subject. As empha- 
 sis varies with sentiment in degrees of strength, it requires 
 a correspondent difference in the force, the elevation of 
 note, and the extent of slide, which distinguish important 
 words. 
 
 24] Emphatic Clause. 
 
 Before I dismiss the article of emphasis, one or two 
 points should have some notice, because they belong to 
 the general subject, though not distinctly classed under 
 the foregoing heads. 
 
 It will be readily perceived that the stress proper to 
 be laid on any single word, to denote its importance, de- 
 pends much on the comparative stress with which other 
 words in the same sentence are pronounced. A whis- 
 per, if it is soft or strong according to sense, maybe as 
 truly discriminating as the loudest tones. The voice 
 
EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 89 
 
 should be disciplined to this distinction, in order to avoid 
 the common fault, which confounds vociferation with em- 
 phatic expression. Many, to become forcible speakers, 
 utter the current words of a sentence in so loud a tone, 
 that the whole seems a mere continuity of strong, articu- 
 late sounds; or if emphatic stress is attempted on partic- 
 ular words, it is done with such violence as to offend 
 against all propriety. This is the declamatory manner. 
 The power of emphasis, when it belongs to single words, 
 depends on concentration. To extend it through a sen- 
 tence is to destroy it. 
 
 But there are cases in which more than common 
 stress belongs to several words in succession, forming an 
 emphatic clause. This is sometimes called general em- 
 phasis. In some cases of this sort, the several syllables 
 have nearly equal stress : thus ; 
 
 Heaven and earth will witness, 
 
 If — Rome — must — fall, that we are innocent. 
 
 In uttering this emphatic clause, the voice drops its pitch, 
 and proceeds nearly in a grave, deliberate monotone. 
 
 In other cases, such a clause is to be distinguished 
 from the rest of the sentence, by a general increase of 
 force ; and yet its words retain a relative difference among 
 themselves, in quantity, stress, and inflection. This ap- 
 pears in the indignant reply of the youthful Pitt, to his 
 aged accuser in debate ; 
 
 But youth, it seems, is not my only crime ; I have been accus- 
 ed, — of acting a theatrical part. 
 
 And afterwards, arraigning the ministry, he said, 
 
 \s to the present gentlemen, — I cannot give them my confi- 
 
90 EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 
 
 deuce. Pardon me, gentlemen, — conjidtnct is a plant of slow 
 growth. 
 
 In both these cases the emphatic thought belongs to the 
 whole clause, as marked, requiring a grave, under-tone ; 
 but one word in each must have more stress than the 
 rest, and a note somewhat higher. 
 
 The want of proper distinctions as to the emphatic 
 clause, occasioned, if I mistake not, the difference of opin- 
 ion between Garrick and Johnson respecting the seat of em- 
 phasis in the ninth commandment ; " Thou shalt not bear 
 false witness against thy neighbor." Garrick laid the stress 
 on shalt, to express the authority of the precept ; Johnson 
 on not to express its negative character. But clearly both 
 are wrong, for in neither of these respects is this command 
 to be distinguished from others with which it is connect- 
 ed. And if we place the stress on false or on neighbor. 
 still an antithetic relation is suggested, which does not ac- 
 cord with the design of the precept. Now let it be ob- 
 served, that here is a series of precepts forbidding certain 
 sins against man, our neighbor. Each of these is intro- 
 duced with the prohibitory phrase, " thou shalt not," and 
 then comes the thing forbidden ; in the sixth, kill; — in the 
 eighth, steal; — in the ninth, " bear false witness." This 
 shows the point, of emphatic discrimination. In the latter 
 case, the stress falls not on a single word, but on a clause, 
 the last word of this clause, however, in the present case, 
 demanding more stress than either of the others. 
 
 One more example may make this last remark still 
 plainer. Suppose Paul to have said merely, " I came 
 not to baptize, but to preach" The contrast expressed 
 
EMPHATIC CLAUSE. 91 
 
 limits the emphasis to two words. But take the whole 
 sentence as it is in Paul's language , " I came not to bap- 
 tize, but to preach the gospel ;" — and you have a con- 
 trast between an emphatic word, and an emphatic clause. 
 And though the sense is just as before, you must change 
 the stress in this clause from preach, to gospel, or you ut- 
 ter nonsense. If you retain the stress on preach, the par- 
 aphrase is " I came not to baptize the gospel, but to 
 preach the gospel." 
 
 DOUBLE EMPHASIS. 
 
 This is always grounded on antithetic relation, ex- 
 pressed in pairs of contrasted objects. It will be suffi- 
 ciently illustrated by a very few examples. 
 
 The young are slaves to novelty, the old to custom. 
 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, 
 but considerest not the beam that is in thine ovm eye ? 
 
 There is but one remark, which is important to be 
 made in this case. In such a reduplication of emphasis, 
 its highest effect is not to be expected. In attempting to 
 give the utmost significance to each of the terms standing 
 in close succession, we are in danger of diminishing the 
 amount of meaning expressed by the whole. The only 
 rule that can be adopted is so to adjust the stress and in- 
 flection of voice on the different terms as shall most clear- 
 ly, and yet most agreeably convey the sense of the entire 
 passage. 
 
CHAP. VI. 
 
 MODULATION. 
 
 I use this term in the largest sense, as a convenient one 
 to denote that variety in managing the voice, which ap- 
 pears in the delivery of a good speaker.* This includes 
 a number of distinct topics, which may perhaps with suf- 
 ficient exactness be brought together in one chapter. 
 
 Sect. 1. — Faults of Modulation. 
 
 1. Monotony. 
 
 The remark has been made in a former page, that 
 the monotone, employed with skill, in pronouncing a sim- 
 ile, or occasionally an elevated or forcible thought, may 
 have great rhetorical effect. Its propriety in such a case, 
 is felt instinctively ; just as other movements of the voice 
 are felt to be proper, when they are prompted by genius 
 and emotion. But the thing I mean to condemn has no 
 
 * Though \ admire precision in language, 1 must here again 
 express my dissent from all needless distinctions on a subject so 
 practical as this. Wright in his Elocution considers tune as equiv- 
 alent to variety, harmony, cadence ; and tone, as equivalent to 
 strength and compass ; and criticises Sheridan for making no such 
 distinction. But surely no distinction and no definition of terms is 
 as good as one too loose to be of any value. Technical terms eve- 
 ry art and science must have ; but modern taste has very properly 
 dispensed with a large proportion of those terms, which make the 
 technical nomenclature of ancient rhetoric a greater burden to 
 memory than the acquisition of a new language. 
 
FAULTS OF MODULATION. 93 
 
 such qualities to give it vivacity. It is that dull repetition 
 of sounds, on the same pitch, and with the same quantity, 
 which the hearers are ready to ascribe, (and commonly 
 with justice,) to the want of spirit in the speaker. They 
 easily excuse themselves for feeling no interest in what 
 he says, when apparently he feels none himself. Want 
 of variety is fatal to vivacity and interest in delivery, on the 
 same principle that it is so in all other cases. 
 
 Let the poet be confined to one undeviating succes- 
 sion of syllables and of rhyme, and who would be en- 
 chanted with his numbers f Let the painter be con- 
 fined to one colour, and where is the magic of his art ? 
 What gives its charm to the landscape ? — What gives life 
 to the countenance, and language to the eye as represent- 
 ed on the canvass ? Not such a use of colours as fits the 
 character of a post or ceiling, all white, or all red ; but 
 such a blending of colours as give the variety of life and 
 intelligence. The same difference exists between a 
 heavy, uniform movement of the voice, and that which 
 corresponds with real emotion. In music a succession of 
 perfect concords, especially on the same note, would be 
 intolerable. 
 
 2. Mechanical variety. 
 
 An unskilful reader perhaps is resolved to avoid mo- 
 notony. In attempting to do this, he may fall into other 
 habits, scarcely less offensive to the ear, and not at all 
 more consistent with the principles of a just elocution. In 
 uttering a sentence, he may think nothing more is neces- 
 sary, than to employ the greatest possible number of notes ; 
 and thus his chief aim is to leap from one extreme to an- 
 
D4 FAULTS OF MODULATION. 
 
 other of his voice. In a short time, this attempt at variety 
 becomes a regular return of similar notes, at stated inter- 
 vals. 
 
 Another defect, of the same sort, arises from an at- 
 tempt to produce variety by a frequent change of stress. 
 The man is disgusted with the plodding uniformity that 
 measures out syllables and words, as a dragoon does his 
 steps. He aims therefore at an emphatic manner, which 
 shall give a much greater quantity of sound to some words 
 than to others. But here too the only advantage gained 
 is, that we exchange an absolute for a relative sameness ; 
 for the favorite stress returns periodically, without regard 
 to sense. 
 
 There is still another kind of this uniform variety, 
 which is extremely common at our public schools and 
 colleges, and from them is carried into the different de- 
 partments of public speaking. It consists in the habit of 
 striking a sentence at the beginning, with a high and full 
 voice, which becomes gradually weaker and lower, as the 
 sentence proceeds, especially if it has much length, till it 
 is closed perhaps with one quarter of the impulse with 
 which it commenced. Then the speaker, at the beginning 
 of a new sentence, inflates his lungs, and pours out a full 
 volume of sound for a few words, sliding downward again, 
 as on an inclined plane, to a feeble close. Besides the 
 effort at variety, which often produces this fault, it is in- 
 creased in many cases, by that labor of lungs, and that 
 unskilfulness in managing the breath, which attends want 
 of custom in speaking. The man who has this habit, 
 (and not a few have it, as any one would perceive, who 
 should place himself just within hearing distance of twen- 
 
MODULATION. REMEDIES. 95 
 
 ty public speakers, successively,) should spare no pains 
 to overcome it, as a deadly foe to vivacity and effect in 
 delivery. 
 
 Sect. 2. — Remedies. 
 
 The measures primarily to be adopted in regard to 
 these habits, will be suggested here, while others that have 
 an important bearing on the subject will come into view 
 in the following sections. 
 
 To find an adequate remedy for any of the above de- 
 fects in modulation, we must enter into the elementary 
 principles of delivery. As the meaning of what we read 
 or speak is supposed continually to vary, that elocution 
 which best conforms to sense, will possess the greatest 
 variety. 
 
 1. The most indispensable attainment then, towards 
 the cure of bad habits in managing the voice, is the spirit 
 of emphasis. Suppose a student of elocution to have a 
 scholastic tone, or some other of the faults mentioned 
 above ; — teach him emphasis, and you have taken the 
 most direct way to remove the defect. It is difficult to 
 give a particular illustration of my meaning, except by the 
 living voice ; but the experiment is worthy of a trial, to see 
 if the faulty manner cannot be represented to the eye. 
 Read the following passage from the Spectator ;* recol- 
 lecting, at the beginning of each sentence, to strike the 
 words in the largest type 5 with a high and full voice, grad- 
 ually sinking away in pitch and quantity, as the type di- 
 minishes, to the close. 
 
 * No. 411. 
 
00 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 OUR SIGHT IS THE MOST PERFECT, AND MOST DE- 
 LIGHTFUL, 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 enjoyments. THE SENSE OF FEELING CAN IN- 
 DEED GIVE US A NOTION OF EXTENSION, SHAPE, AND ALL OTHER 
 IDEAS THAT ENTER AT THE EYE, EXCEPT COLOURS. AT THE 
 SAME TIME, IT IS VERY MUCH CONFINED IN ITS OPERATIONS 
 TO THE NUMBER, BULK, AND DISTANCE OF ITS PARTICULAR OB- 
 JECTS. 
 
 If Rhetoric had a term, something like the diminuendo 
 of musicians, it might help to designate the fault here re- 
 presented, consisting in the habit of striking sentences 
 with a high and strong note, for a few words, and then 
 falling away into a feeble close. 
 
 If you succeed in understanding the above illustration, 
 then vary the trial on the same example, with a view to 
 another fault, the periodic stress and tone. Take care 
 to speak the words printed in small capitals with a note 
 sensibly higher and stronger than the rest, dropping the 
 voice immediately after these elevated words, into an un- 
 dulating tone, on the following syllables, — thus ; 
 
 Our sight is the most perfect, and most delightful of all our 
 senses. It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, con- 
 verses with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues the 
 longest in action without being tired or satiated with its propel 
 enjoyments. The sense of feeling can indeed give us a notion of 
 extension, shape, and all other ideas that enter at the eye ex- 
 
MODULATION. REMEDIES. 9? 
 
 cept colours. At the same time, it is very much confined in its 
 operations, to the number, bulk and distance of its particular ob- 
 jects*. 
 
 It is necessary now to give this same passage once 
 more, so distinguishing the chief words by the Italic char- 
 acter as to exhibit the true pronunciation. 
 
 Our sight is the most perfect and most delightful of all our sen- 
 ses. 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 sense of feeling can indeed give us a notion of exten- 
 sion, shape, and all other ideas that enter at the eye, except colours. 
 At the same time it is very much confined in its operations, to the 
 number, bulk, and distance of its particular objects. 
 
 Only two or three of the words as here marked require 
 intensive emphasis, and that not of the highest kind ; and 
 yet the student will perceive that a discriminating stress 
 on the words thus marked, will regulate the voice, of 
 course, as to all the rest ; and so render a scholastic tone 
 impossible. 
 
 * Walker's ear, though in cases of emphatic inflection, very dis- 
 criminating, seems in other cases to have been perverted by his the- 
 ory of harmonic inflection, as appears from his manner of pronoun- 
 cing the following couplet, which nearly coincides with the tone I 
 am condemning. 
 
 A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, 
 And greatly falling, with a falling state. 
 
 I am aware that it is difficult to represent this scholastic tone by 
 any description to the eye. One who is acquainted with music 
 may readily analyse any unseemly tone, by examining the intervals 
 of the notes above and below the key note of the sentence, in the 
 few syllables to which the tone is confined. This analysis would 
 give a precision to his knowledge of the subject, that would be 
 valuable in practice. The hint may be sufficient to those who 
 have skill and patience for such inquiries ; and to others, any ex- 
 tended explanations would be useless. 
 
 9 
 
98 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 
 
 But as no word in the foregoing passage is strongly 
 emphatic, my meaning may be more evident from an ex- 
 ample or two, where a discriminating stress on a single 
 word, determines the manner in which the following words 
 are to be spoken. 
 
 Take this couplet from Pope, and read it first with 
 the metrical accent and tone, thus ; 
 
 What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
 Is pride, the never failing vice of fools. 
 
 Now let it be observed that in these lines there is 
 really but one emphatic word, namely pride, ii we mark 
 this with the strong emphasis, and the falling inflection, 
 the following words will of necessity be spoken as they 
 should be, dropping a note or two below the key note of 
 the sentence,* and proceeding nearly on a monotone to 
 the end ; — thus ; — 
 
 What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
 
 Is ^ 
 
 the never failing vice of fools. 
 
 Another example may help to render this more intelli- 
 gible. 
 
 Must we the author of the public caldm x 
 
 Or must we des ^ 
 
 the author of the public calamities ? 
 
 * By key note, I mean the prevailing note, that which you hear 
 when a man reads aloud in another room, while you cannot dis- 
 tinguish any words that he utters. 
 
MODULATION. REMEDIES. 99 
 
 In pronouncing these examples, which I trust need 
 not be farther explained, some trifling diversities might 
 doubtless be observed in different readers of equal taste. 
 But if the proper sound is given to the emphatic words, 
 all the rest must be spoken essentially as here described. 
 It follows that the most direct means of curing artificial 
 tones, is to acquire a correct emphasis. But. — 
 
 2. In order to this, another attainment seems indis- 
 pensable, namely, some good degree of discrimination as 
 to vocal tones and inflections. This has been more than 
 once adverted to in the foregoing pages ; but it is intro- 
 duced here as inseparably connected with a just modula- 
 tion. That correct emphasis, which is the best remedy 
 for perverted habits of voice, is not always a spontaneous 
 attendant on good sense and emotion. Its efficacy is of- 
 ten frustrated by the strength of those habits which it might 
 overcome, if there were sufficient knowledge of the sub- 
 ject to apply the remedy. 
 
 There is something of the ludicrous in the attempt to 
 imitate unseemly tones in speaking ; and those who are 
 unpractised in it, generally feel reluctant to make the at- 
 tempt at first, especially in the presence of others. For 
 the same reason they are reluctant to have their own faul- 
 ty manner in reading a sentence imitated, or to repeat 
 again and again their own attempts to correct it. And 
 some who can imitate a sound immediately after hearing 
 it from another voice, suppose this to be the only way in 
 which it can be done. But let a thousand persons who 
 understand the English language, repeat the familiar ques- 
 tion, " Do you expect to go, or stayV — And will not ev- 
 ery one of the thousand give the same turn of voice on 
 
100 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 
 
 the words in Italics ? Where is the difficulty then of 
 placing such a mark on these turns of voice, that they 
 may be transferred to any other word ? This simple prin- 
 ciple suggested to Walker his notation of sounds for the 
 eye ; and incomplete as it is, something of the kind is so 
 necessary to the student of elocution, that, without it, the 
 aid of a living teacher cannot supply the defect. And in 
 most cases, nothing is wanting to derive advantage from 
 such a theory but a little patience and perseverance in its 
 application.* 
 
 * A few years since, I desired a young gentleman to take the fol- 
 lowing sentence ; u I tell you though yuu, though all the world, 
 though an angel from heaven, should declare the truth of it, I could 
 not believe it ;" — and read it to me in four different ways, which I 
 described to him in writing, without making with my voice any of 
 the sounds which I wished him to represent. My directions were 
 these ; 
 
 1. Read it with the monotone. 
 
 2. Without any slide on the emphatic words, raise them one 
 note above the key tone of the sentence, and read the rest in the 
 monotone. 
 
 3. Give the emphatic words the rising slide through three or 
 four notes above the key, and end with the common oadence. 
 
 4. Give the same words the falling slide, with increase of force 
 as you proceed ; beginning the slide on you one note above the 
 key, that on world two, and that on heaven three. — The young 
 gentleman, without having acquired, so far as I knew, any uncom- 
 mon skill in vocal inflections, at the appointed time repeated the 
 passage according to my directions, and almost exactly in the man- 
 ner I had intended. The last mode of reading is that which I des- 
 cribed at page 62 ; and the other three modes I may leave without 
 farther elucidation to those who have the curiosity to engage in such 
 an exercise. The second mode, it will be seen, is one species of 
 what is often called the conventicle tone ; and another sort of this 
 cant, would be represented by reading all the words in monotone, ex- 
 cept the parts in the following specimen printed in Italic, which 
 should be raised two notes above the key. " 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." Such an exercise might 
 well seem trifling in a man of elevated views, were it not impor- 
 tant to bring his voice under discipline, by analysing its powers, and 
 that for the purpose of correcting his own faults in modulation. 
 
MODULATION. REMEDIES. 101 
 
 It was my intention to remark, at more length than 
 my limits in this place will allow, on the benefit which a 
 public speaker may derive from acquaintance with vocal 
 music. The want of this does by no means imply a cor- 
 respondent deficiency in elocution. There have been or- 
 ators who had no skill in music. And constant observation 
 shows that a man may be a fine singer and yet be no orator. 
 Vocal organs and skill, of the first order, he may possess, 
 and yet have neither the strength nor furniture of intel- 
 lect, nor the high moral sensibility which eloquence de- 
 mands. As a speaker, he may fail too in modulation of 
 voice, so as not even to read well. But while all this 
 is admitted, we must say of this good singer and bad read- 
 er, what w x e cannot always say of another man, — he is 
 utterly without excuse. With discriminating ear, and 
 perfect command of his voice, why has he a bad modula- 
 tion in delivery ? — His talent is hid in a napkin ; — he is 
 too slothful to use a gift of his Creator, which in posses- 
 sion of another man, might be an invaluable treasure. Par- 
 adox as it may seem, it is only the plain statement of a 
 well known fact, to say, that many a man, while devoting 
 ten years to studies preparatory to professional life, delib- 
 erately looks forward to his main business, as one in which 
 his success and usefulness must depend on his talent in 
 speaking, — yet takes no pains to speak well ! Perhaps, 
 of these ten years, he does not employ one entire week in 
 all, to acquire this talent, without which all other acquisi- 
 tions are, to his purposes, comparatively useless ! 
 
 Without any enthusiastic estimate of the collateral ad- 
 vantages which the student of oratory might derive from 
 musical skill, it may be said that the same strength, dis* 
 9* 
 
102 MODULATION. REMEDIES. 
 
 tinctness, smoothness, and flexibility of voice, which mu- 
 sic both requires and promotes, are directly subservient to 
 the purposes of elocution. And at least so much practi- 
 cal knowledge of music, as readily to mark with the ear 
 and voice, the difference between high and low, strong 
 and feeble notes, greatly facilitates that analysis of speak- 
 ing tones, which enables one to understand his own faults, 
 and to make such a sound, in a given case, as he wishes 
 to make. 
 
 I might add here, that I am not advancing any new- 
 theory on this subject. Quinctilian devotes a chapter to 
 the connexion between eloquence and music ; and advi- 
 ses the young orator to study this latter art, as an impor- 
 tant auxiliary in the care and management of his voice. 
 And a spirited French w T riter, speaking of bad tones in 
 the pulpit, says, " I much wish that young preachers would 
 not neglect any means of forming their voice and improv- 
 ing their ear ; for which purpose, the knowledge and prac- 
 tice of vocal music, would be very useful to them." 
 
 There are indeed weighty reasons, not applicable to 
 other men, why they who are devoted to the sacred of- 
 fice should cultivate an acquaintance with this sacred, 
 fine art. It'elevates and sanctifies the taste of a Christian 
 scholar. It prepares the minister of the gospel to employ 
 an influence in regulating the taste of others ; an influence 
 that shall be salutary, and becoming his office, or at least, 
 not pernicious, in regard to the style of music that is 
 adapted to public devotion. Till Christian pastors be- 
 come generally better qualified to exert such an influence, 
 it will not be strange if this department of public worship 
 shall continue in the hands of authors, and teachers, and 
 
PITCH OF VOICE. 103 
 
 performers, who will so conduct its solemn services as to 
 extinguish rather than inspire devotional feeling. Besides, 
 the minister who knows nothing of the science of adapta- 
 tion, as applied to music and poetry, will often select 
 hymns so unpoetical that they cannot possibly be sung 
 with discrimination and spirit ; or perhaps a hymn that is 
 full of inspiration he will read with so little feeling, that it 
 will almost of course be sung in a manner equally inani- 
 mate. 
 
 Sect. 3. — Pitch of Voice. 
 
 This is a relative modification of voice ; by which we 
 mean that high or low note, which prevails in speaking, 
 and which has a governing influence upon the whole scale 
 of notes employed. In every man's voice this governing 
 note varies with circumstances, but it is sufficiently exact 
 to consider it as threefold ; the upper pitch, used in call- 
 ing to one at a distance ; the middle, used in conversa- 
 tion ; and the lower, used in cadence, or in a grave, em- 
 phatic under key. Exertion of voice on the first, exposes 
 it to break ; and on the last, renders articulation thick and 
 difficult, and leaves no room for compass below the pitch. 
 The middle key, or that which we spontaneously adopt in 
 earnest conversation, allows the greatest variety and ener- 
 gy in public speaking, though this will be raised a little by 
 the excitement of addressing an assembly. To speak on 
 a pitch much above that of animated conversation, fatigues 
 and injures the lungs ; though this, of all mistakes, is the 
 one into which weak lungs are most likely to fall. The 
 speaker then, by his own experiment, or, (if he wants the 
 
104 PITCH OF VOICE. 
 
 requisite skill,) by the aid of some friend, should ascertain 
 the middle key of his own voice, and make that the basis 
 of his delivery. Whether this is high or low compared 
 with that of another man, is not essential, provided it be 
 not in extreme. Among the first secular orators of Brit- 
 ain, some have spoken on the grave, bass-key ; while 
 Pitt's voice, it is said, was a full tenor, and Fox's a tre- 
 ble. 
 
 The voice that is on a bass-key, if clear and well ton- 
 ed, has some advantages in point of dignity. But a high 
 tone, uttered with the same effort of lungs, is more audi- 
 ble than a low one. Without referring to other proofs 
 of this, the fact just now mentioned is sufficient, that we 
 spontaneously raise our key in calling to one at a dis- 
 tance ; for the simple reason that we instinctively know 
 he will be more likely to hear us in a high note than a 
 low one. So universal is this instinct, that we may ob- 
 serve it in very little children, and even in the call and 
 response of the parent bird and her young, and in most 
 brute animals that have voice. The same principle doubt- 
 less explains another fact recently alluded to, that feeble 
 lungs are inclined to a high pitch ; this being the effort 
 of weakness, to make up what it lacks in power, by eleva- 
 tion of key ; an effort which succeeds perfectly for a few 
 words, but produces intolerable fatigue by being continu- 
 ed. 
 
 The influence of emotion on the voice, is also among 
 the philosophical considerations pertaining to this subject. 
 A man under strong intellectual excitement, walks with a 
 firmer and quicker step than when he is cool ; and the 
 same excitement which braces the muscles, and gives en- 
 
 IWH 
 
PITCH OF VOICE. 105 
 
 ergy to the movements of the body, has a correspondent 
 effect on the movements of the voice. Earnestness in 
 common conversation assumes a higher note, as it pro- 
 ceeds, though the person addressed is at no greater dis- 
 tance than before. 
 
 A practical corollary from these suggestions is, that 
 the public speaker should avoid a high pitch, at the he- 
 ginning of his discourse, lest he rise with the increase of in- 
 terest to a painful and unmanageable elevation. Through 
 disregard of this caution, some preachers, of warm tem- 
 perament, sacrifice all command of their voice as they be- 
 come animated, and rather scream than speak. Blair 
 lays it down as a useful rule, in order to be well heard, 
 — " To fix our eye on some of the most distant persons 
 in the assembly, and to consider ourselves as speaking to 
 them." But to apply this rule to the outset of a discourse, 
 would probably lead nine out of ten, among unpractised 
 speakers, to err by adopting too high a pitch. Walker, 
 on the other hand, advises to commence, — " as though 
 addressing the persons who are nearest to us." This 
 might lead to an opposite extreme ; and the safest gener- 
 al course perhaps is to adapt the pitch to hearers at a 
 medium distance. 
 
 Hearers are apt to be impatient, if a speaker compels 
 them to listen ; though they more readily tolerate this fault 
 at the beginning, than in any other part of a discourse. 
 The preacher is certainly without excuse who utters his 
 text in so low a voice as not to be understood, and the 
 special necessity for avoiding this, is probably a sufficient 
 reason for the good old practice of naming the text twice. 
 But for a few sentences of the exordium, where the sen- 
 
10G QUANTITY. 
 
 timent commonly requires composure and simplicity, it is 
 better to be scarcely audible, than to shun this inconve- 
 nience by running into vociferation. The proper means of 
 avoiding both extremes is to learn the distinction between 
 force and elevation; and to acquire the power of swelling 
 the voice on a low note. This introduces our next topic 
 of consideration. 
 
 Sect. 4. — Quantity. 
 
 This term I use not in the restricted sense of gram- 
 marians and prosodists, but as including both the fulness 
 of tone, and the time in which words and sentences are 
 uttered. With this explanation I hope I may be permit- 
 ted to use the term in a sense somewhat peculiar, without 
 touching the endless discussion it has awakened in anoth- 
 er department. 
 
 In theory, perhaps every one can easily understand, 
 that a sound may be either loud or soft, on the same note. 
 The only difference, for example, betwixt the sound pro- 
 duced by a heavy stroke and a gentle one, on the same 
 bell, is in the quantity or momentum. This distinction, 
 as applied to music, is perfectly familiar to all acquainted 
 with that art. As applied to elocution, however, it is not 
 so easily made ; for it is a common thing for speakers to 
 confound high sounds with loud, and low with soft. 
 Hence we often hear it remarked of one that he speaks 
 in a low voice, when the meaning is, a feeble one ; and 
 perhaps if he were told that he is not loud enough, he 
 would instantly raise his key, instead of merely increasing 
 his quantity on the same note. But skill in modulation 
 
QUANTITY. 107 
 
 requires that these distinctions should be practically un- 
 derstood. And if any one who has given no attention to 
 this point, thinks it too easy to demand attention, he may 
 be better satisfied by a single experiment. Let him take 
 this line of Shakspeare, 
 
 O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 
 
 and read it first in a voice barely audible. Then let him 
 read it again and again, on the same pitch, doubling his 
 quantity or impulse of sound, at each repetition, and he 
 will find that it requires great care and management to do 
 this without raising his voice to a higher note. 
 
 As it is a prime requisite in a public speaker, that he 
 be heard with ease and pleasure, the importance of his 
 being able to swell his voice to a loud and full sound, with- 
 out raising his pitch, must be apparent. As a general 
 rule, that voice is loud enough, which perfectly fills the 
 place where we speak ; or, in other words, which perfect- 
 ly reaches the hearers, with a reserve of strength to en- 
 force a passage, in which sentiment demands peculiar en- 
 ergy. 
 
 The inconvenience of a feeble voice in a public speaker 
 is great. He will either fail to be heard at all, or will be 
 heard with so much difficulty, that his auditors are sub- 
 jected to the drudgery of a laborious listening to spell out 
 his meaning. 
 
 Besides, there are circumstances, of no uncommon oc- 
 currence, by which this inconvenience is specially aggra- 
 vated. Among these may be mentioned the injudicious 
 structure of buildings, the chief design of which is adap- 
 tation to public speaking, such as legislative and judicial 
 
108 QUANTITY. 
 
 halls, and Christian churches. The purpose of these 
 buildings is sometimes nearly frustrated by immoderate 
 size ; by extreme height of the ceiling ; and in churches 
 particularly, by the multiplication of ill-formed arches, so 
 constructed as to return a strong broken echo, — by the 
 bad arrangement of galleries, and the sounding-board, 
 adjusted close to the speaker's head. 
 
 Sometimes too, even the secular orator, and much of- 
 tener the preacher, is called to speak in the open air ; or 
 on the other extreme, to speak in a private apartment, so 
 crowded as hardly to admit of free respiration. In such 
 cases the common disadvantages of a feeble voice are 
 much increased. 
 
 If the inquiry be made, on what does strength of voice 
 depend ? — I answer, 
 
 First, it depends primarily on perfect organs of speech. 
 As it is important for the professed speaker to know some- 
 thing of these wonderful organs, with the preservation and 
 use of which he is so much concerned, a brief enumera- 
 tion of them may be proper here. 
 
 Of these, the lungs have the first place. Mere vigor 
 in this organ, is not of course attended with vocal power, 
 but the latter cannot exist without the former. Other 
 things being equal, he who has the best conformation of 
 chest, and the most forcible action of lungs, will have the 
 strongest voice. Fish, and those insects that have no 
 lungs, have no voice. 
 
 Next is the trachea, that elastic tube by which air pas- 
 ses to and from the lungs ; to the length of which in some 
 birds, is ascribed the uncommon power of their voice. 
 At the upper end of this, is the larynx, a cartilaginous box, 
 
QUANTITY. 109 
 
 of the most delicate, vibratory power, so suspended by 
 muscles as to be easily elevated or depressed. The glottis 
 is a small aperture, (at the top of the larynx,) by the di- 
 latation or contraction of which sound becomes more acute 
 or more grave. To secure this aperture from injury, 
 while food passes over it to the stomach, it is closed by a 
 perfect valve, called the epiglottis. 
 
 These are organs of sound, but not of speech, without 
 the aid of others adapted to articulation, — namely, the 
 tongue, the palate, the nostrils, the lips and teeth. My 
 limits do not allow me to examine minutely the wonderful 
 adaptation of these latter organs to their end, nor the mode 
 of their action in forming articulate sounds. Such an ex- 
 amination is unnecessary to one who has patience to make 
 it himself, — and to others, it would be useless. 
 
 Secondly, next to the importance of good organs, in 
 giving strength of voice, is the proper exercise cf these or- 
 gans. The habit of speaking gave to the utterance of 
 Garrick so wonderful an energy, that even his under key 
 was distinctly audible to ten thousand people. In the same 
 way the French missionary Bridaine brought his vocal 
 powers to such strength, as to be easily heard by ten thou- 
 sand persons, in the open air ; and twice this number of lis- 
 tening auditors were sometimes addressed by Whitefield. 
 The capacity of the lungs to bear the effort of speaking 
 with a full impulse, depends much on their being accus- 
 tomed to it. If I were to give directions to the student, 
 as to the means of strengthening his voice by exercise, 
 they would be such as these. 
 
 (1) Whenever you use your voice, on common occa- 
 sions, use as much voice, as propriety will permit. The 
 10 
 
110 QUANTITY. 
 
 restriction here intended must be applied by common 
 sense. 
 
 (2) Read aloud, as a stated exercise. [See 3. p. 31.] 
 This was a daily practice of the first statesmen and gener- 
 als of Rome, even in the midst of campaigns, and public 
 emergencies ; and it was by such a habit of reading and 
 declamation in private, that the sons of these men were 
 trained to a bold and commanding oratory. An erect, 
 and commonly a standing posture, in such exercises, gives 
 the fullest expansion to the chest and lungs. 
 
 (3) In public speaking, avoid all improper efforts of 
 the lungs. These arise chiefly from speaking on too high 
 a key, a fault noticed above ; from extreme anxiety to 
 accommodate delivery to hearers who are partially deaf; 
 and from attempts to go through a long discourse, with 
 such a degree of hoarseness as greatly augments the la- 
 bor of the lungs. 
 
 Thirdly, to preserve the lungs, and give strength to 
 the vocal powers, it is necessary to avoid those habits by 
 which public speakers are often injured ; — such as, 
 
 (1) Bad attitudes of study, especially of writing, which 
 cramp the chest and obstruct the vital functions. 
 
 (2) Late preparations, by which the effort of public 
 delivery immediately succeeds the exhaustion of intense 
 and long continued study. 
 
 (3) Full meals immediately before, and stimulating 
 drinks immediately before or after speaking. 
 
 (4) Inhaling cold air by conversation, and sudden 
 change of temperature, when the lungs are heated by 
 speaking. 
 
 There is one general precaution, I may add, that 
 
QUANTITY. HI 
 
 comprises and in some measure supersedes all others on 
 this subject, namely, that strength of the vocal powers is 
 to be promoted only by sustaining the general vigor of the 
 constitution. The fatal prevalence of pulmonary disease, 
 among literary men, especially ministers of the gospel, is 
 commonly ascribed to their peculiar labors in public 
 speaking. But with much more reason might it be as- 
 cribed, chiefly, to their habits as men of study. The gen- 
 eral intelligence and spirit of the age render high acquisi- 
 tions and efforts indispensable, in order to distinguished use- 
 fulness. Years of preparatory study, devoted to intense 
 reading and thought, often impair tire tone of health, so 
 that the superaddition of professional exertions soon fin- 
 ishes the work of prostration. The young preacher, of 
 ardent feelings, is eminently in danger of falling an early 
 victim to the combined influence of these causes. Be- 
 sides the weekly composition of sermons, a labor that has 
 no parallel in any other profession, an accumulation of 
 pastoral duties, new, and vast in importance, press him 
 down from day to day, till he sinks, under this load of du- 
 ties, into the grave ; or drags on the precarious existence 
 of an invalid, with broken lungs, and emaciated frame. 
 
 Now the case is summed up in a few words. The 
 public speaker needs a powerful voice. The quantity of 
 voice which he can employ, at least, can employ with safe- 
 ty, depends on his strength of lungs ; and this again de- 
 pends* on a sound state of general health. If he neglects 
 this, all other precautions will be useless.* 
 
 * The foregoing suggestions on strength of voice, are only an 
 outline of the more particular and extended illustration given to 
 this part of the subject in my Lectures on Delivery. 
 
/ 
 
 112 QUANTITY. 
 
 So much for this part of rhetorical modulation, in which 
 a just quantity requires, that the impulse or momentum of 
 voice be accommodated to sentiment, from the whisper 
 of the fire-side, designed only for one hearer, to the thun- 
 der of Bridaine, addressing his ten thousand. 
 
 But besides strong and feeble tones, as belonging to 
 quantity, it includes also a proper regard to time. This 
 respects single words, clauses, and sentences. No varie- 
 ty of tones could produce the thrilling effects of music, if 
 every note were a semibreve. So in elocution, if every 
 word and syllable were uttered with the same length, the 
 uniformity would be as intolerable as the worst monotony. 
 This is illustrated in the line which Pope framed purpose- 
 ly to represent a heavy movement ; — 
 
 And ten low words oft creep in one dull line. 
 
 The quantity demanded on each of these monosyllabic 
 words, renders fluency in pronunciation quite impractica- 
 ble. On the other hand, in a line of poetry, which has a 
 regular return of accent on every second or third syllable, 
 we find a metrical pronunciation, so spontaneously adopt- 
 ed, as often to require much caution, not to sacrifice sense 
 to harmony. Some, I am aware, maintain the theory that 
 prose, in order to be well delivered, must be reduced, 
 mentally at least, into feet. But he must be litttle less 
 than a magician, who can break into the measure of proso- 
 dy such a sentence as this ; — " The Trinity is a mystery 
 which we unhesitatingly believe the truth of, and with hu- 
 mility adore the depth of." 
 
 The easy flow of delivery requires that particles, and 
 subordinate syllables, should be touched as lightly as is 
 
QUANTITY. 113 
 
 consistent with distinctness; while both sentiment and 
 harmony demand, that the voice should throw an increase 
 of quantity upon important words, by resting on them, or 
 by swell and protraction of sound, or both. Tiius while 
 pitch relates only to the variety of notes, as high or low, 
 that of quantity is twofold ; namely, the variety of impulse, 
 as loud or soft, and the variety of time, as quick or slow. 
 The martial music of the drum has no change of notes, as 
 to tune, being dependent wholly on quantity ; and there- 
 fore has much less vivacity than the fife, which combines 
 the varieties of tune, and impulse, as well as time. The 
 amount of all these remarks is, that he whose voice ha- 
 bitually prolongs short syllables, and such words as and, 
 from, to, the, &ic. must be a heavy speaker. 
 
 But time in elocution, has a larger application than 
 that which respects words and clauses, I mean that which 
 respects the general rate of delivery. In this case, it is 
 not practicable, as in music, nor perhaps desirable, to es- 
 tablish a fixed standard, to which every reader or speak- 
 er shall conform. The habits of different men may differ 
 considerably in rate of utterance, without being chargea- 
 ble with fault. But 1 refer rather to the difference which 
 emotion will produce, in the rate of the same individual. 
 1 have said before, that those passions which quicken or 
 retard a man's step in walking, will produce a similar ef- 
 fect on his voice in speaking. Narration is equable and 
 flowing ; vehemence, firm and accelerated ; anger and 
 joy, rapid. Whereas dignity, authority, sublimity, awe, 
 — assume deeper tones, and a slower movement. Ac- 
 cordingly we sometimes hear a good reader or speaker, 
 when there is some sudden turn of thought, check himself 
 in the full current of utterance, and give indescribable 
 10* 
 
114 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 
 
 power to a sentence, or part of a sentence, by dropping 
 his voice, and adopting a slow, full pronunciation. 
 
 Sect. 5. — Rhetorical Pause. 
 
 This has a very intimate relation to the subject of the 
 foregoing section. As quantity in music, may consist 
 partly of rests, so it is in elocution. A suspension of the 
 voice, of proper length, and at proper intervals, is so in- 
 dispensable that, without this, sentiment cannot be expres- 
 sed impressively, nor even intelligibly, by oral language. 
 In delivery indeed, these suspensions of sound are ac- 
 companied by other and surer marks of their signifi- 
 cance, than mere time; as the whole doctrine of vocal in- 
 flections implies. They are combined with appropriate 
 notes of the voice, which declare at the instant, whether 
 the sense is to be continued in the same sentence ; — when 
 the sentence is declarative, and when interrogative ; when 
 it is finished ; and in general, whether it expresses sim- 
 ple thought, or thought modified by emotion. According- 
 ly, rhetorical punctuation has a few marks of its own, as 
 the point of interrogation, and of admiration, the parenthe- 
 sis, and the hyphen, all of which denote no grammatical 
 relation, and have no established length. And there is 
 no good reason, if such marks are used at all, why they 
 should not be rendered more adequate to their purpose. 
 
 The interrogative mark, for example, is used to de- 
 note, not length of pause, but appropriate modification of 
 voice at the end of a question. But it happens that this 
 one mark, as now used, represents two things, that are 
 
RHETORICAL PAUSE. 115 
 
 exactly contrary to each other. When the child is taught, 
 as he still is in mauy schools, to raise his voice in finish- 
 ing a question, he finds it easy to do so in a case like this, 
 — " Will you go to-day f" — " Are they Hebrews V But 
 when he comes to the indirect question, not answered by 
 yes or no, his instinct rebels against the rule, and he spon- 
 taneously reads, with the falling slide, — " Why are you 
 silent'? Why do you prevaricate?" Now, in this latter 
 case, if the usual mark of interrogation were inverted, (<?) 
 when its office is to turn the voice downward, it would be 
 discriminating and significant of its design. Nor would 
 this discrimination require rhetorical skill in a printer. It 
 would give him far less difficulty, than to learn the gram- 
 matical use of the semicolon. The same remarks apply 
 to the note of exclamation. 
 
 As to the adjustment of pauses, to allow the speaker 
 opportunity for drawing his breath, the difficulty seems to 
 have been much overrated by writers and teachers. From 
 my own experience and observation, I am inclined to 
 think that no directions are needed on this point, and that 
 the surest way to make even the youngest pupil breathe 
 at the proper time, is to let him alone. 
 
 For the sake of those who feel any apprehension on 
 this subject, it may be proper to say, that the opportuni- 
 ties for taking breath, in the common current of delivery, 
 are much more frequent than one might suppose, who has 
 not attended to this matter. There is no grammatical re- 
 lation of words so close as utterly to refuse a pause be- 
 tween them, except the article and noun, the preposition 
 and noun, and the adjective and noun in their natural or- 
 der. 
 
11G RHETORICAL PAUSE. 
 
 Supposing the student to be already familiar with the 
 common doctrine of punctuation, it is not my design to 
 discuss it here; nor even to dwell upon the distinction be- 
 tween grammatical and rhetorical pauses. All that is 
 necessary, is to remark distinctly, that visible punctuation 
 cannot be regarded as a perfect guide to quantity any 
 more than to inflections. Often the voice must rest, where 
 no pause is allowed in grammar ; especially does this hap- 
 pen, when the speaker would fix attention on a single 
 word, that stands as immediate nominative to a verb. A 
 few examples may make this evident. 
 
 Industry is the guardian of innocence. 
 Prosperity gains friends, adversity tries them. 
 
 Some place the bliss in action, some in ease ; 
 Those call it pleasure, and contentment these. 
 
 Mirth I consider as an act, cheerfulness as a habit of the mind. 
 Mirth is short and transient, cheerfulness fixed and permanent. 
 Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that glitters for a moment ; cheer- 
 fulness keeps up a kind of day-light in the mind. 
 
 Here the words in Italic take no visible pause after 
 them, without violence to grammatical relation. But the 
 ear demands a pause after each of these words, which no 
 good reader will fail to observe. 
 
 The same principle extends to the length of pauses. 
 The comma, when it simply marks grammatical relation, 
 is very short, as " He took with him Peter, and James, 
 and John, his disciples." But when the comma is used 
 in language of emotion, though it is the same pause to the 
 eye, it may suspend the voice much longer than in the 
 
RHETORICAL PAUSE. 117 
 
 former case ; as in this solemn and deliberate call to at- 
 tention ; — "Men, brethren, and fathers, hearken."* 
 
 Tins leads me to the chief point, which I had in view 
 under this head, the emphatic pause. Garrick employed 
 this on the stage, and Whitefield in the pulpit, with 
 great effect. It occurs sometimes before, but commonly 
 after a striking thought is uttered, which the speaker thus 
 presents to the hearers, as worthy of special attention, and 
 which, he seems confidently to expect, will command as- 
 sent, and be fixed in the memory, by a moment of unin- 
 terrupted reflection. More commonly, such a thought as 
 admits the emphatic pause, drops the voice to a grave 
 under-key, in the manner described at the close of the 
 last article. Sometimes it breaks out in the figure of in- 
 terrogation, with a higher note, and the eye fixed on some 
 single hearer. To produce its proper effect, it must 
 spring from such reality of feeling as defies all cold imita- 
 tion ; and this feeling never fails to produce, while the 
 voice is suspended on the emphatic pause, a correspondent 
 significance of expression in the countenance. 
 
 There is still another pause, so important in delivery, 
 as to deserve a brief notice ; I mean that with which a 
 
 * The rhetorical pause is as appropriate in music as in elocution. 
 In this respect, a skilful composer always conforms to sentiment, in 
 a set piece. In metrical psalmody, though this adaptation cannot 
 be made by the writer of the tune, it ought to be made, in some 
 g-ood degree, by the performers. Instead of a tame subserviency 
 to arbitrary quantity, they may often, with powerful effect, insert 
 or omit a pause, as sentiment demands. I have scarcely ever felt 
 the influence of music more, than in one or two cases where the 
 stanzas, being highly rhetorical, were divided only by a comma, 
 and the choir spontaneously rushed over the musical pause at the 
 end of the tune, and began it anew, from the impulse of emotion. 
 See example, Watts, Book i . Hymn 3, 6 and 7 — 8 and 9 stanzas. 
 
118 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 
 
 good speaker marks the close of a paragraph, or division 
 of a discourse. The attempt to keep up an assembly to 
 one pitch of interest, and that by one unremitted strain of 
 address, is a great mistake, though a very common one, 
 as it respects both the composition and the delivery of a 
 discourse. It results from principles with which every 
 public speaker ought to be acquainted, that high excite- 
 ment cannot be sustained for a long time. He who has 
 skill enough to kindle in his hearers, the same glow which 
 animates himself, while he exhibits some vivid argument 
 or illustration, will suffer them to relax, when he has fin- 
 ished that topic ; and will enter on a new one, with a more 
 familiar tone of voice, and after such a pause, as prepares 
 them to accompany him with renewed satisfaction. 
 
 It may be remarked in passing, that when the voice 
 has outrun itself, and reached too high a pitch, one of 
 these paragraph-rests affords the best opportunity to re- 
 sume the proper key. 
 
 24] Sect. 6. — Compass of voice. 
 
 It may be thought that what has been said already, 
 concerning high and low notes, is sufficient, on this part of 
 modulation. My remarks on pitch, however, related 
 chiefly to the predominant note which one employs in a 
 given case ; whereas I now refer to the range of notes 
 above and below this governing or natural key, which are 
 required by a spirited and diversified delivery. 
 
 Sometimes from inveterate habit, and sometimes from 
 incapacity of the organs, the voice has a strong, clear bot- 
 
COMPASS OF VOICE. 119 
 
 torn, without any compass upwards. In other cases, it 
 has a good top, but no compass below its key. Extreme 
 instances to the contrary there may be, but commonly, I 
 have no doubt that when a speaker uses only a note or 
 two, above and below his key, it arises from habit, and not 
 from organic defect. Few indeed have, or could by any 
 means acquire, the versatility of vocal power, by which 
 Whitefield could imitate the tones of the female or the in- 
 fant voice, at one time, and at another, strike his hearers 
 with awe, by the thundering note of his under key. Nor 
 is this power essential to an interesting delivery. On the 
 other hand, there are few, if any, who could not, by prop- 
 er pains in cultivating the voice, give it all the compass 
 which is requisite to grave and dignified oratory. 
 
 As I cannot dwell on this point, it may be useful to 
 say briefly, that when the voice of the young speaker is 
 found to be wanting in compass, I would advise him, in 
 the first place, to try an experiment, similar to that which 
 was suggested, p. 107, for increasing strength or loudness 
 of sound, without change of key. Suppose he takes the 
 same line ; 
 
 O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 
 
 and reads it first on the lowest note on which he can ar- 
 ticulate. Then let him repeat it a note higher, and so on, 
 till he reaches the highest note of his voice. His com- 
 pass being ascertained, by such an experiment, on a few 
 words, he may then practise reading passages of some 
 length, on that part of his voice which he especially wash- 
 es to improve ; taking care, in this more protracted exer- 
 cise, not to pitch on the extreme note of his voice, either 
 
120 TRANSITION. 
 
 way, so far as to preclude some variety above or below, 
 to correspond with natural delivery. 
 
 In the second place, I would advise him to read pas- 
 sages where the sentiment and style are specially adapted 
 to the purpose he has in view. If he wishes to cultivate 
 the bottom of his voice, selections from narrative or didac- 
 tic composition may be made, which will allow him to be- 
 gin a new sentence, in a note nearly as low, as that in which 
 he finished the preceding. Or he may take passages of 
 poetry, in which the simile occurs, a figure that generally 
 requires a low and equable movement of voice. 
 
 If he wishes to increase his compass on the higher 
 notes, let him choose passages in which spirited emotion 
 prevails ; especially such as have a succession of interroga- 
 tive sentences. These will incline the voice, spontaneous- 
 ly, to adopt those elevated tones on which he wishes to cul- 
 tivate its strength. Instead of giving examples here, to il- 
 lustrate these principles, I refer the reader to Exercises, 
 [24] where a few selections are made for this purpose. 
 
 25] Sect. 7. — Transition. 
 
 By this I mean those sudden changes of voice which 
 often occur in delivery. This article, and those which fol- 
 low upon modulation, are chiefly intended to combine and 
 apply the principles of the preceding sections. The 
 whole object is, to elucidate that one, standing law of de- 
 livery, that vocal tones should correspond in variety with 
 sentiment; in contradistinction from monotony, and from 
 that variety which is either accidental or mechanical. In 
 
TRANSITION. 121 
 
 this spontaneous coincidence, by which the voice changes 
 its elevation, rate, strength, he. in conformity with emo- 
 tion, consists that excellence which is universally felt and 
 admired, in the manner of a good speaker. 
 
 To designate these changes, besides the rhetorical 
 marks already employed to denote inflections, it will be 
 necessary to adopt several new ones ; and the following 
 may answer the purpose ; signifying that the voice is to 
 be modified in reading what follows the marks respec- 
 tively, thus : — 
 
 ( ° ) high- ( o ) low. 
 
 (°°) high and loud. ( 00 ) low and loud. 
 
 { •• ) slow. ( || ) rhetorical pause. 
 
 In respect to the four first, when one of them occurs, 
 it must be left to the reader's taste to determine how far 
 its influence extends in what follows. In respect to this 
 mark ( •• ) it may be used to signify a considerable pro- 
 traction of sound on that syllable, which precedes it, and 
 then it will be inserted in the middle of the word, without 
 brackets. When it denotes a small protraction of sound, 
 on one word or several, it will be placed over the parts it 
 is designed to affect. This may be exemplified in Young's 
 remark on procrastination, thus ; 
 
 Year after year it steals, till all are fled, 
 And to the mercy of a mo •• ment jj leaves jj 
 The vast concerns of an eternal scene. 
 
 When the same mark is designed to signify that a pas- 
 sage is to be uttered with a slow rate, it will be inserted 
 thus ( •• ) where that passage begins, — the extent of its in- 
 fluence being left to the readers taste ; or it may be com- 
 11 
 
122 TRANSITION. 
 
 bined with another mark, thus, ( q ) which would signify 
 low and slow. 
 
 I beg leave to add, that, as the utility of this notation 
 may be doubted by some, and as I am not sanguine re- 
 specting it myself, it is suggested only as an experiment, 
 on a most difficult branch of elocution. If applied with 
 judgment, it may be useful ; and it will at least be harm- 
 less to those who choose to pass it by. 
 
 I proceed now to explain myself more fully on the 
 subject of vocal transition, admonishing the reader that, 
 in the examples, and in the Exercises, a word in Italic has 
 the common emphasis, while small capitals are occasion- 
 ally used to denote a still more intensive stress. 
 
 Any one who has a good command of his voice, can 
 use it with a higher or lower, a stronger or feebler note, 
 at pleasure. This distinction is perfectly made, (as I 
 have said before,) even by a child, in speaking to one who 
 is near, and to one who is distant. In rhetorical reading, 
 when we pass from simple narrative to direct address, 
 especially, when the address is to distant persons, a cor- 
 respondent transition of voice is demanded. Many ex- 
 amples of this sort may be found in the Paradise Lost, 
 from which the following are selected : 
 
 -The cherubim, 
 
 To their night watches, in warlike parade, 
 When Gabriel to his next in pow'r thus spake. 
 (°°) Uzziel! || half these draw off, and coast the south, 
 
 With strictest watch ; — these other, || wheel the north ; 
 Our circuit meets full west. 
 
 Every reader of taste will perceive that the three last 
 
TRANSITION. 123 
 
 lines, in this case, must be spoken in a much bolder and 
 higher voice than the preceding. 
 
 Another fine example may be seen in the sublime 
 description of Satan, which ends with a speech to his asso- 
 ciates, full of authority and reprehension. It is so long, 
 that I shall give only parts of it, sufficient to show the 
 transition. 
 
 ( •■ ) He scarce had ceasM, when the superior fiend 
 
 Was moving- tow'rd the shore ; his pond'rous shield, 
 Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 
 Behind him cast ; the broad circumference 
 Hunsr on his shoulders like the moon. 
 
 -on the beach 
 
 Of that inflamed sea he stood, || and call'd 
 
 His legions, angel forms ; ■ 
 
 He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep 
 
 Of hell •• resounded. (°°) Princes, — Potentates, 
 
 Wa'rriors ! || the flow'r of heav'n, once yours, now lost, 
 
 If such astonishment as this can seize 
 
 Eternal spirits. 
 
 Here again, where the thought changes, from descrip- 
 tion to vehement address, to continue the voice in the 
 simple tones of narrative, would be intolerably tame. It 
 should rise to a higher and firmer utterance on the pas- 
 sage beginning with " Princes, — potentates" he. 
 
 In these cases, the change required consists chiefly in 
 key and quantity. But there are other cases, in which 
 these may be included, while the change consists also in 
 the qualities of the voice. 
 
 It was remarked [10] p. 54, that tender emotions, 
 
124 TRANSITION, 
 
 such as pity and grief, incline the voice to gentle tones, 
 and the rising slide ; while emotions of joy, sublimity, au- 
 thority &ic. conform the tones to their own character res- 
 pectively. It is where this difference of emotion occurs 
 in the same connexion, that the change I have mentioned 
 in the quality of voice, is demanded, analagous to the 
 difference between plaintive and spirited expression, or 
 piano and forte, in music. To illustrate this I select two 
 stanzas from a hymn of Watts, and two from a psalm ; 
 one being pathetic and reverential, the other animated and 
 lively. These stanzas I arrange alternately, so as to ex- 
 hibit the alternation of voice required by sentiment." 
 
 (°) Alas ! and did my Savior bleed ? 
 And did my Sovereign die ? 
 Would he devote that sacred head, 
 For such a worm as 'I ? 
 
 (°°) Joy to the world ! — the Lord is come ! 
 Let earth receive her king ; 
 Let every heart prepare him room, 
 
 ( e ) Was it for crimes that J had done, 
 He groan'd upon the tree ? 
 Amazing pity ! grace unknown ! 
 And love || beyond degree ! 
 
 (°°) Joy to the earth ! the Savior reigns ? 
 Let men their songs employ ; 
 While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, 
 Repeat the sounding joy. 
 
 * In the first and third, the voice should be plaintive and soft, 
 as well as hig-h. 
 
EXPRESSION. 125 
 
 In the following example, we see Satan lamenting his 
 loss of heaven, and then in the dignity of a fell despair, 
 invoking the infernal world. In reading this, when the 
 apostrophe changes, the voice should drop from the tones 
 of lamentation, which are high and soft, to those which 
 are deep and strong, on the words, " Hail, horrors," &c. 
 
 (°) Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, 
 Said then the lost archangel, this the seat, 
 That we must change for heav'n .? This mournful gloom || 
 
 For that celestial light ? 
 
 Farewell, happy fields, 
 Where joy forever dwells. (°°) Hail, horrors .' HaiL, 
 Infernal world / And thou, •• profound est hell, •• 
 Receive thy new possessor I one who brings 
 A mind, not to be changed by place or time. 
 
 26] Sect. S. — Expression. 
 
 This term I use in rather a limited sense, to denote 
 the proper influence of reverential and pathetic sentiment 
 on the voice. A partial illustration of this has been given 
 in the foregoing section, but its importance calls for some 
 additional remarks. 
 
 There is a modification of voice, which accompanies 
 awakened sensibility of soul, that is more easily felt than 
 described ; and this constitutes the unction of delivery. 
 Without this, thoughts that should impress, attract, or 
 soothe the mind, often become repulsive. I have heard 
 the language of our Lord, at the institution of the sacra- 
 mental supper, read with just those falling slides on a high 
 11* 
 
126 EXPRESSION. 
 
 note, which belong to the careless, colloquial tones of 
 familiar conversation, thus ; " Take, eat ; — this is my 
 bddy." Even the Lord's prayer, I have sometimes 
 heard read with the same irreverent familiarity of manner. 
 This offence against propriety, becomes still more violei . 
 when the sentiment is not only solemn but pathetic, 1 
 quiring that correspondent quality of voice, to which 
 have repeatedly alluded. 
 
 Should 1 attempt fully to explain the principles c 
 which this pathetic quality of the voice depends, it would 
 lead us into a somewhat extended view of the philosopr. 
 of emotion, as connected with modulation of speakin 
 tones. A few remarks, however, must suffice. 
 
 The fact cannot have escaped common observation 
 that sorrow and its kindred passions, when carried to 4 
 high pitch, suspend the voice entirely. In a lower de- 
 gree, they give it a slender and tremulous utterance 
 Thus Aaron, when informed that his two sons were smit- 
 ten dead, by a stroke of divine vengeance, "held his 
 peace." The emotions of his heart were too deep to find 
 utterance in words. The highest passion of this sort, is 
 expressed by silence ; and when so far moderated, as to 
 admit of words, it speaks only in abrupt fragments of sen- 
 tences. Hence it is that all artificial imitation in this 
 case, is commonly so unlike the reality. It leads to met- 
 aphors, to amplification and embellishment, in language, 
 and to either vociferation or whining in utterance. Where- 
 as the real passion intended to be imitated, if it speaks at 
 all, speaks without ornament, in few words, and in tones that 
 are a perfect contrast to those of declamation. This dis- 
 tinction arises from those laws of the human mind, by 
 
EXPRESSION. 127 
 
 which internal emotion is connected with its external 
 signs. A groan or a shriek is instantly understood, as a 
 language extorted by distress, a language which no art can 
 mnterfeit, and which conveys a meaning that words are 
 Utterly inadequate to express. The heart, that is burst- 
 ing with grief, feels the sympathy that speaks in a silent 
 nksp of the hand, in tears, or in gentle tones of voice : 
 ■pile it is shocked at the cold commiseration that utters 
 elf in many words, firmly and formally pronounced. 
 If these views are correct, passion has its own appro- 
 ate language; and this, so far as the voice is concern- 
 , (for 1 cannot here consider looks and gesture,) is what 
 nean by expression. That this may be cultivated by 
 efforts of art, to some extent, is evident from the skill 
 ich actors have sometimes attained, in dramatic exhi- 
 ion; a skill to which one of the fraternity alluded in 
 . remark to a dignitary of the church, the cutting sever- 
 ity of which consists in the truth it contains, "We speak 
 of fictions as if they were realities, you speak of realities 
 they were fictions." But the dignity of real elo- 
 quence, and peculiarly of sacred eloquence disclaims all 
 artifice ; and the sensibility which would be requisite to 
 render imitation successful, would at the same time ren- 
 der it needless ; for why should one aim to counterfeit 
 that, of which he possesses the reality f 
 
 The fact however, is, that the indescribable power 
 communicated to the voice by a delicate sensibility, espe- 
 cially a Christian sensibility, it is quite beyond the reach 
 of art to imitate. It depends on the vivid excitement of 
 real feeling ; and, in Christian oratory, implies that ex- 
 pansion and elevation of the soul, which arise only from 
 
128 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 a just feeling of religious truth. The man whose tempera- 
 ment is so phlegmatic, that he cannot kindle with emotion, 
 at least with such degree of emotion as will shew itself in 
 his countenance and voice, may be useful in some depart- 
 ments of learning, but the decision of his Creator is stamp- 
 ed upon him, that he was not made for a public speak- 
 
 27] Sect. 9. — Representation. 
 
 This takes place when one voice personates two in- 
 dividuals or more. It seems necessary to dwell a little 
 on this branch of modulation, which has scarcely been 
 noticed by writers on oratory. Every one must have ob- 
 served how much more interesting is an exhibition of men, 
 as living agents, than of things in the abstract. Now 
 when the orator introduces another man as speaking, he 
 either informs us what that man said, in the third person ; 
 or presents him to us as spoken to, in the second person, 
 and as speaking himself, in the first. So far as the prin- 
 ciples of style are concerned, the difference between the 
 two methods, in point of vivacity, is easily explained. 
 The former is mere description, the latter is representation. 
 A cold narrator would have said that Verres was guilty of 
 flagrant cruelty, in scourging a man who declared himself 
 to be a Roman citizen. But Cicero shows us the man 
 
 * In regard to the preacher, these obstacles from mental tem- 
 perament, are rendered mere certainly fatal to success in delivery, 
 if combined with a system of belief, or a state of religious feeling-, 
 so phlegmatic as to suppress, rather than awaken, his spiritual en- 
 ergies . 
 
REPRESENTATION. 129 
 
 writhing under the lash of the bloody Pretor, and exclaim- 
 ing ; "I am a Roman citizen." 
 
 A thousand examples are at hand, to show the differ- 
 ence between telling us what was said by another man, 
 and introducing that man to speak to us himself. " The 
 wise men said that they had seen his star in the east, and 
 had come to worship him," — is narrative. "We have 
 seen his star in the east and are come to worship him," is 
 representation. " Jesus told Peter that he should deny 
 him thrice," is narrative. " Jesus said, Peter, thou shalt 
 deny me thrice ;" is representation. The difference be- 
 tween these two modes of communication it is the prov- 
 ince of taste to feel, but of criticism to explain. Let us 
 then analyse a simple thought, as expressed in these two 
 forms ;- — " Jesus inquired of Simon, the Son of Jonas, 
 whether he loved him." " Jesus said, Simon, Son of Jo- 
 nas, lovest thou me ?" The difference in point of vivaci- 
 ty is instantly perceived, but in what does this difference 
 consist ? In two things. The first manner throws verbs 
 into past time, and pronouns into the third person, pro- 
 ducing, in the latter especially, an indefiniteness of gram- 
 matical relation, which is unfriendly to the clearness and 
 vivacity of language. At the same time, the energy aris- 
 ing from the vocative case, from the figure of tense, and 
 of interrogation, is sacrificed. As a principle of composi- 
 tion, though commonly overlooked, this goes far to ex- 
 plain the difference between the tame and the vivid in 
 style. 
 
 But the same difference is still more striking when 
 analysed by the principles of delivery. Transform an an- 
 imated question into a mere statement of the fact, that 
 
]30 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 such a question was asked, and all the intonations of voice 
 are changed, so that you do not seem to hear a real per- 
 son speaking, but are only told that he did speak. This 
 change in expression of voice will be apparent in repeat- 
 ing the two forms of the example last quoted. Doubtless 
 most readers of the New Testament have felt the spirit 
 with which the Evangelist relates an interview between 
 the Jewish priests, and John, the Baptist. Omitting the 
 few clauses of narrative, it is a dialogue, thus ; 
 
 Priests ; — Who art thou ? 
 
 John ; — I am not the Christ. 
 
 Priests ; — What then ? art thou Elias ? 
 
 John; — I am not. 
 
 Priests ; — Art thou that prophet ? 
 
 John ; — No. 
 
 Priests ; — Who art thou ? — that we may give an an- 
 swer to them that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself? 
 
 John ; — I am the voice of one crying in the wilder- 
 ness, — Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the 
 prophet Esaias. 
 
 Priests ; — Why baptizest thou then, if thou be not 
 that Christ, nor Elias, neither that prophet? 
 
 John ; — I baptize with water ; but there standeth one 
 among you, whom ye know not ; &lc. The reader will 
 perceive by turning to the passage in the Evangelist John, 
 1: 19, — and repeating it as it stands there, that, not only 
 must the same voice ask the questions, with a higher note, 
 and give the answers, with a lower ; but also must distin- 
 guish the intermingled clauses of narrative, from the dia- 
 logue. 
 
 Now all these thoughts might be intelligibly expressed 
 
REPRESENTATION. 131 
 
 in the language of description, by the very common pro- 
 cess of changing the pronouns into the third person, and 
 the verbs into the third person of the past tense, and, of 
 course, transforming all the interlocutory tones, into those 
 of narrative. But where would be the variety and spirit 
 of the passage ? It would scarcely retain even a dull re- 
 semblance of its present form. 
 
 It is by just this sort of transformation, that reporters 
 of debates in legislative bodies, so often contrive to divest 
 a speech of half its interest, if they do not grossly obscure 
 its meaning. As I wish to be understood, I will give a 
 specimen of this kind, where the orator is described as 
 proceeding thus ; " He said that the remarks of the hon- 
 orable member, whether so intended by him or not, were 
 of a very injurious character. If not aimed at him per- 
 sonally, they were adapted to cast suspicion, at least, on 
 his motives. And he asked if any gentleman, in his mo- 
 ments of cool reflection would blame him, if he stood 
 forth, the guardian of his own reputation." 
 
 Now let the narrator keep in his own province, and 
 merely state the thing as it was, — and the difference is 
 seen at once. The orator speaks in the first person ; " I 
 say that the remarks of the honorable member, whether 
 so intended by him or not, are of a very injurious charac- 
 ter. If not aimed at me, personally, they are adapted to 
 cast suspicion, at least, on my motives. And I ask, will 
 any gentleman, in his moments of cool reflection, blame 
 me, if I stand forth, the guardian of my own reputation ?" 
 Here if any one will analyse the language, in both cases, 
 he will see that, in the former, verbs are accommodated 
 to past time, and pronouns are all thrown into the third 
 
132 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 person, though belonging to different antecedents ; and 
 thus the reporter's pen spreads ambiguity and weakness 
 over a thought, as the torpedo benumbs what it touches. 
 
 So in sacred oratory, it is a common thing, that a pas- 
 sage from the Bible, which would speak to the heart, with 
 its own proper authority and energy, if the preacher had 
 simply cited it as the word of God ; is transmuted into 
 comparative insignificance, by the process of quotation. 
 
 The reader will perceive, that the principle which I 
 here aim to illustrate, though it belongs primarily to the 
 philosophy of style, has a very extensive influence over 
 every department of delivery. 
 
 The man who feels the inspiration of true eloquence, 
 will find some of his happiest resources in what I here call 
 representation. He can break through the trammels of a 
 tame, inanimate address. He can ask questions, and an- 
 swer them ; can personate an accuser and a respondent ; 
 can suppose himself accused or interrogated, and give his 
 replies. He can call up the absent or the dead, and 
 make them speak through his lips. This skill of represent- 
 ing two or more persons, by appropriate management of 
 language and voice, may properly be called rhetorical dia- 
 logue. It was thus that the great orators of antiquity, and 
 thus that Chrysostom and Massillon held their hearers in 
 captivity. 
 
 I will only add that when a writer, in the act of com- 
 position, finds himself perplexed with clashing pronouns of 
 the third person ; — or when he is at a loss, whether part 
 or the whole of a sentence, should or should not be dis- 
 tinguished with a mark of interrogation, he should sus- 
 pect in himself some aberration from the true principles 
 of style. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 133 
 
 Sect. 10. — The reading of Poetry. 
 
 Before we dismiss the general subject of this chapter, 
 some remarks may be expected on proper management 
 of the voice in the reading of verse. These remarks, 
 however, must necessarily be so brief as to give only a 
 few leading suggestions on this difficult branch of elocu- 
 tion. I say difficult, because on the one hand, the genius 
 of verse requires that it be pronounced with a fuller swell 
 of the open vowels, and in a manner more melodious and 
 flowing than prose. 
 
 As the peculiar charms of poetry consist very much 
 in delicacy of sentiment, and beauty of language, it were 
 absurd to read it without regard to these characteristics. 
 But on the other hand, to preserve the metrical flow of ver- 
 sification, and yet not impair the sense, is no easy attain- 
 ment. The following general principles may be of use to 
 the student. 
 
 1. In proportion as the sentiment of a passage is ele- 
 vated, inspiring emotions of dignity or reverence, the voice 
 has iess variety of inflection, and is more inclined to the 
 monotone. The grand and sublime in description, and in 
 poetic simile ; the language of adoration and of supplica- 
 tion are universally distinguished in the above respect 
 from familiar discourse. 
 
 2. When the sentiment of a passage is delicate and 
 gentle, especially when it is plaintive, it inclines the voice 
 to the rising inflection ; and for this reason poetry oftener 
 requires the rising inflection than prose : yet, 
 
 3. The rights of emphasis must be respected in po- 
 etry. When the language of a passage is strong and elis- 
 or familiarly descriptive, or colloquial, — the 
 
 12 
 
134 READING OF POETRY. 
 
 same modifications of voice are required as in prose. 
 The emphatic stress and inflection, that must be intensive, 
 in prose, to express a thought forcibly, are equally neces- 
 sary in poetry. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 Say first, of God above, or man below, 
 
 What can we reason, but from what we know ? 
 
 Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, 
 And drawn supports, — upheld by God, or thee ? 
 
 Who thus define it, say they more or less 
 Than this, — that happiness is happiness. 
 
 Order is heaven's first law ; and this confest, 
 Some are, and must be, greater than the rest ; 
 More rich, more wise ; but who infers from hence 
 That such are happier,— shocks all common sense. 
 
 But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed : 
 What then ? — is the reward of virtue bread ? 
 
 4. The metrical accent of poetry is subordinate to 
 sense, and to established usage in pronunciation. It is a 
 general rule, that though the poet has violated this prin- 
 ciple in arranging the syllables of his feet, still it should 
 not be violated by the reader. That is a childish confor- 
 mity to poetic measure, which we sometimes hear, as 
 marked in the following examples. 
 
 False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, 
 Its gaudy colours spreads on every place. 
 
 Again ; 
 
 Their praise is still, the style is excellent ; 
 The sense, they humbly take upon content. 
 
 And worse still ; 
 
 My soul ascends above the sky, 
 And triumphs in her liberty. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 135 
 
 In most instances of this sort, where the metrical ac- 
 cent would do violence to every ear of any refinement, 
 the reader should not attempt to hide the fault of the po- 
 et, by committing a greater one himself. There are 
 some cases, however, in which the best way of obviating 
 the difficulty, is to give both the metrical and the custom- 
 ary accent ; or at least to do this so far, that neither shall 
 be very conspicuous; thus — 
 
 Our supreme foe, in time may much relent. 
 Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate — 
 Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing — 
 
 I think of only two exceptions to these remarks on ac- 
 cent. The first occurs where a distinguished poet has 
 purposely violated harmony, to make the harshness of his 
 line correspond with that of the thought. This Milton 
 has effectually done, in the following example, by making 
 the customary accent supersede the metrical. 
 
 On a sudden open fly, 
 
 With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, 
 The infernal doors ; and on their hinges grate 
 Harsh thunder. 
 
 The other exception occurs, where a poet of the 
 same order, without any apparent reason, has so derang- 
 ed the customary accent, that, to restore it in reading, 
 would be a violation of euphony not to be endured ; 
 thus — 
 
 ■ And as is due 
 
 With glory attributed to the high 
 Creator? 
 
 Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute 
 Each orb a glimpse of light. 
 
136 READING OF POETRY. 
 
 5. The pauses of verse should be so managed, if pos- 
 sible, as most fully to exhibit the sense, without sacrificing 
 the harmony of the composition. No good reader can 
 fail to observe the ccesural pause, occurring after the 
 fourth syllable, in these flowing lines ; 
 
 Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze, 
 Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees. 
 
 Yet no good reader would introduce the same pause, 
 from regard to melody, where the sense utterly forbids it, 
 as in this line ; 
 
 I sit, with sad civility I read. 
 
 While the ear then, in our heroic measure, commonly 
 expects the caesura after the fourth syllable, it often de- 
 mands its postponement to the sixth or seventh, and some- 
 times rejects it altogether. 
 
 But there is another poetical pause, namely, that 
 which occurs at the end of the line, concerning which 
 there has been more diversity of opinion and practice 
 among respectable men. The most competent judges 
 have, indeed, very generally concurred in saying, that this 
 pause should be observed, even in blank verse, except on 
 the stage. Lowth, Johnson, Garrick, Kaimes, Blair, and 
 Sheridan, were all of this opinion. Others, particularly 
 Walker, have questioned the propriety of pausing at the 
 end of the line, in blank verse, except where the same 
 pause would be proper in prose. 
 
 Now it seems clear to me that, (if there is any tolera- 
 ble harmony in the measure,) even when the sense of one 
 line runs closely into the next, the reader may, generally, 
 mark the end of the line by a proper protraction and sus- 
 
READING OF POETRY. 13' 
 
 pension of voice, on the closing syllable, — as in the fol- 
 lowing notation ; 
 
 Thus with the year 
 
 Seasons return, but not to me returns ■• 
 
 Day || or the sweet approach of even or inorn. 
 
 And over them triumphant Death his dart •• 
 Shook || but delayed to strike. 
 
 All air seemed then •• 
 
 Conflicting fire ; long time in even scale •■ 
 The battle hung. 
 
 For now the thought •■ 
 
 Both of lost happiness and lasting pain •■ 
 Torments him. 
 
 In none of these cases perhaps, would a printer insert 
 a pause at the end of the line ; and yet there appears to 
 be no difficulty in making one with the voice, by a mode- 
 rate swell and protraction of sound. But there certainly 
 are examples, and those not a few, in which the writers 
 of blank verse have so amalgamated their lines by prosaic 
 arrangement of pauses, that all attempts of the reader to 
 to distinguish these lines would be useless. Here again, 
 as was said of misplaced accent, the reader must look to 
 the sense, and let the poet be responsible for the want of 
 musical versification. 
 
 I add, in this place, a judicious remark of Walker, 
 to whom by the way, I am indebted for several of the fore- 
 going illustrations. " The affectation," says he, " which 
 most writers of blank verse have of extending the sense 
 beyond the line, is followed by a similar affectation in the 
 printer, who will often omit a pause at the end of a line 
 12* 
 
138 READING OF POETRY. 
 
 in verse, when he would have inserted one in prose ; and 
 this affectation is still carried farther by the reader, who 
 will run the sense of one line into another, where there is the 
 least opportunity for doing it, in order to show that he is 
 too sagacious to suppose that there is any conclusion in 
 the sense, because the line concludes." 
 
 In regard to rhyme, there can be no doubt that it 
 should be so read as to make the end of the line quite 
 perceptible to the ear : otherwise the correspondent sound 
 of the final syllables, in which rhyme consits, would be 
 entirely lost. It is a strange species of trifling, therefore, 
 which we sometimes witness in a man, who takes the 
 trouble to adjust his rhymes in a poetic composition, and 
 then in reading or speaking, slurs them over with a pre- 
 posterous hurry, and confounds them by an undiscriminat- 
 ing utterance, so that they are necessarily unperceived by 
 the hearers. 
 
 6. I entirely concur with Walker in his remark that 
 the vowels e and o, when apostrophised, in poetry, should 
 be preserved in pronunciation. But they should be spok- 
 en in a manner so slight and accelerated, as easily to co- 
 alesce with the following syllable. An example or two 
 of this will require no explanation. 
 
 But of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence. 
 Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. 
 
 It was my intention, for the benefit of young preach- 
 ers, to remark at some length, in this section, on the read- 
 ing of Hymns in the pulpit. But as the foregoing obser- 
 
READING OF POETRY. 139 
 
 vations apply generally, to the reading of psalms and 
 hymns, as well as other poetry ; it may be sufficient to 
 give a few suggestions on points which pertain especially 
 to this interesting, and often very defective branch of 
 Christian elocution. 
 
 The chief object of sacred poetry as connected with 
 sacred music, is to inspire devotional feeling. For this 
 purpose it has been, from the earliest ages, incorporated 
 into the public worship of God, by his own appointment. 
 Poetry written for the silent perusal of individuals, or 
 adapted only to the instruction or amusement of the so- 
 cial circle, though read unskilfully, suffers only a diminu- 
 tion of interest, respecting a subject perhaps of momenta- 
 ry concern. But poetry written expressly to aid the pub- 
 lic devotions of Christians, and designed to be repeated 
 again and again in their solemn assemblies, cannot be 
 read unskilfully, without a serious loss of interest in the 
 hearers-, respecting subjects in which their duty and hap- 
 piness are involved. 
 
 That discrimination of taste and sensibility, which feels 
 the spirit of poetry, doubtless may be very defective in 
 some men, even of elevated piety. Sometimes from this 
 want of discrimination, and oftener still from inattention to 
 the subject, arise the faults w T hich I shall briefly notice. 
 
 Perhaps the most comprehensive of these faults con- 
 sists in the injudicious selection of the psalm or hymn to 
 be read. Not a few of these compositions, in the best 
 books that have been written or compiled, are merely nar- 
 rative or didactic in subject, and destitute of all poetic 
 spirit in execution. Even those of the seraphic Watts, 
 surpassing, as they certainly do, all others in their general 
 
140 READING OF POETRY. 
 
 merits, contain many passages, that are quite tolerable as 
 to metre and rhyme, but destitute of the inspiration and 
 soul of real poetry. There is, besides, a very injurious 
 tendency to fluctuation in our psalmody, arising from a 
 fastidious demand for novelty, and a disposition in differ- 
 ent Christian sects to have each its own psalm, as well as 
 doctrine. Hence the psalms of David, as adapted by 
 Watts to Christian worship, are in a great degree supplant- 
 ed by various collections of hymns ; and to accommodate 
 a vagrant taste in music, many of these are hymns writ- 
 ten in irregular and rapid measures, little suited to pro- 
 mote the solemnity of devotional feeling. Many others, I 
 know, are distinguished for pathos, and are eminently fit- 
 ted to awaken Christian fervor, especially on account of 
 their appropriateness to the occasions and the spirit of 
 the age. At the same time, if I may be excused for 
 turning aside so much as to introduce this topic, I would 
 say, that preachers have injured the interests of psalmody 
 by their general preference of hymns, in public worship, 
 to the psalms of the inspired poet, in the version of Watts. 
 The strain of humble devotion, of deep penitence, of ele- 
 vated praise, which prevails in these sacred songs, not- 
 withstanding the defects attending the best metrical ver- 
 sion of them which has been given to the church, ought 
 to preserve them from falling into neglect. Some of 
 these indeed, are too much wanting in dignity and poetic 
 spirit, to be read in public ; but they are generally free 
 from both the didactic and the fanciful character, of 
 which we have so many examples in our collections of 
 hymns. 
 
 Next to want of skill in selection, is the fault of an 
 
READING OF POETRY. 141 
 
 undiscriminating, inanimate manner of reading. This 
 consists in that measured, scanning attention to poetic ac- 
 cent, and that undulating tone, by which the sense is 
 made subordinate to sound. As this is a general fault in 
 reading verse, no enlargement on it is necessary, except 
 to add an example or two, marked according to the man- 
 ner to be avoided. 
 
 Here on my heart the burden lies, 
 And past offences pain mine eyes. 
 
 Lord should thy judgments grow severe, 
 I am condemn'd but thou art clear. 
 
 Thy blood can make me white as snow, 
 No Jewish types could cleanse me so. 
 
 This last stress on Jewish, though almost universally 
 laid by readers, is an utter perversion of the sense, imply- 
 ing that other types than Jewish might effect what they 
 cannot. 
 
 Another fault is a too prosaic manner. It is the op- 
 posite of the foregoing, and consists in the disregard of 
 poetic harmony. This 1 will exemplify only as it respects 
 the pause at the end of the line. 
 
 Come, let our voices join to raise 
 A sacred song- of solemn praise ; 
 God is a sovereign king, rehearse 
 His honors in exalted verse. 
 
 Nor let our harden'd hearts renew 
 The sins and plagues that Israel knew. 
 
 Since they despise my rest, I swear 
 Their feet shall never enter there. 
 
142 READING OF POETRY. 
 
 See other examples of the same sort in Watts, Psalm 96, 
 Com. Metre, 4 and 5 verses : and Hymn 140, 2 Book, 1 
 ver. 
 
 In cases of this sort, the reader, perhaps through af- 
 fectation of sagacity, hastens over the end of the line, 
 stopping just before and after it, when such stop is often 
 quite as much against the rules of common punctuation, 
 as to have made it at the end of the line. In the second 
 example above, he would read thus, " Nor let our har- 
 den'd hearts, — renew the sins, — and plagues &,c. 
 
 Another fault is the affectation of a rhetorical manner. 
 It consists in want of simplicity. Perhaps the reader as- 
 sumes a pompous or theatrical air, seeming to aim at the 
 display of his oratorical powers. Or on the other hand, 
 he repeats a stanza that is full of sublime or devotional 
 sentiment, with the colloquial inflections of familiar prose. 
 Both of these faults show that the heart of the reader is 
 not touched with that glow of religious feeling which a 
 Christian hymn ought to inspire. Indeed, so delicate and 
 sacred is this thing, that all affectation of excellence, all 
 effort that is apparently artificial, is intolerable. It is in 
 this case, as it is in public prayer, and reading of the 
 scriptures, a heart filled with reverence towards God, and 
 warmed with the spirit of Christian devotion, is more ef- 
 fectual than all things else, to govern aright the modula- 
 tions of the voice. 
 
 In regard to inflections in reading the stanzas of a 
 hymn, I would suggest a caution against the very common 
 practice of dropping the voice at the end of the second 
 line, without regard to the connexion. Walker says that, 
 " With very few exceptions, it may be laid down as a rule. 
 
READING OF POETRY. 143 
 
 in reading a stanza, that the first line may end with the 
 monotone, the second and third with the rising slide, and 
 the last with the falling." The exceptions to this rule, or 
 to any one that could be concisely expressed, I think are 
 not " very few." When the continuity of sense through a 
 stanza, is very close, the voice continues in the suspend- 
 ing slide, much more than when long pauses intervene. 
 The monotone, doubtless, should more frequently than is 
 common, be heard at the end of a line. 
 
 If some of the most rhetorical psalms were properly 
 marked with a notation, especially so far. as respects em- 
 phasis, it might lead to a more discriminating manner in 
 reading them. But instead of giving specimens to illus- 
 trate my meaning here, the reader is referred to the ex- 
 ercises [28.] where some brief examples will be found. 
 
CHAP. VII. 
 
 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 I use the term action, not for the whole of delivery, 
 according to the most extensive sense given to it by the 
 ancients ; nor yet in the most restricted modern sense, as 
 equivalent to gesture merely ; but as including also atti- 
 tudes and expression of the countenance. While I shall 
 have occasion often to refer to what has been taught in 
 books on this subject, my chief design is to make such re- 
 marks as have been suggested by my own observation and 
 reflections. To what extent these remarks should be 
 carried, in so small a treatise on delivery, is a point on 
 which I have doubted ; and some perhaps may think that 
 whatever is of practical importance might have been said 
 in a briefer form. 
 
 That action, which Cicero calls " sermo corporis," is 
 an important part of oratory, is too evident to demand 
 proof. If any one doubts this, let him ask himself how 
 does a great painter give reality and life to his portrait ? 
 How do children speak ? How do the dumb speak ? Ac- 
 tion and attitude in these cases are the language of nature 
 to express feeling and emotion. 
 
 There are two extremes respecting this subject, each 
 of which deserves a brief notice, in this place, as being at 
 variance with common sense. 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 145 
 
 The first is, that which encumbers a speaker with so 
 much technical regulation of his movements, as to make 
 him an automaton. It is a great mistake to suppose that 
 a young student, before he can commence his efforts in 
 oratory, must commit to memory a system of rules re- 
 specting gesticulation, just as arithmetical tables must be 
 learned by the tyro in numbers. When a beginner in elo- 
 cution shall be able to look at an assembly without an un- 
 manly flutter of spirits, and shall have acquired a good 
 degree of ease in the attitudes and motions of his body, 
 then it will be time enough to rectify, one after another, 
 the faults of his own manner, by attention to good mod- 
 els, and correct principles of action. This T am persuad- 
 ed should be attempted gradually, rather than all at once ; 
 for the transforming influence of practice is essential to 
 any useful application of precepts. And these precepts 
 too, when given to an individual, I am fully satisfied af- 
 ter much observation, instead of being confined to minute 
 directions respecting his own gesticulation, should espe- 
 cially be adapted to instruct him in general principles. 
 All attempts to regulate the attitudes and movements of 
 his body by diagrams and geometrical lines, without great 
 skill in the teacher, will lead to an affected, mechanical 
 manner. His habits are of prime importance. By these, 
 good or bad, he must be governed in the act of speaking, 
 for to think of his manner then will be the certain ruin of 
 all simplicity. Let these habits be well formed, and be 
 his own, so as to govern his movements spontaneously, 
 and trust the rest to emotion. 
 
 The other extreme to which I alluded, is that which 
 condemns all precepts and all preparatory practice too, 
 13 
 
146 KHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 as mischievous in their influence, because no one can 
 learn to speak, till he comes into the real business of 
 speaking, as his profession. 
 
 On this I can make but one passing remark. Pre- 
 paratory discipline of the faculties necessarily wants 
 the stimulus of real business, in respect to every liberal 
 art and valuable talent among men. Why then shall not 
 such discipline be deemed useless in all other cases, as 
 well as in elocution ? Why shall we not neglect to learn 
 any thing, which relates to practical skill in a profession, 
 till we actually enter on that profession ? 
 
 I now proceed to offer my remarks on Rhetorical Ac- 
 tion, dividing the subject into two parts. 
 
 Part I. the principles of rhetorical action. 
 
 The power of action consists wholly in its correspon- 
 dence with thought and emotion ; and this correspondence 
 arises either from nature or custom. 
 
 Sect. 1 — Action as significant from nature. 
 
 The body is the instrument of the soul, or the medi- 
 um of expressing internal emotions, by external signs. 
 The less these signs depend on the will, on usage, or on 
 accident, the more uniform are they, and the more cer- 
 tainly to be relied on. 
 
 Expression of the countenance. 
 
 The soul speaks most intelligibly, so far as visible 
 signs are concerned, in those muscles which are the most 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 147 
 
 pliant and prompt to obey its dictates. These are the 
 muscles of the face ; which spontaneously, and almost 
 instantaneously respond to the impulse from within. An- 
 ger, for example, shows itself in the contraction of the 
 brow, the flash of the eye, the quivering of the lip, and the 
 alternate paleness and crimson of the cheek. Terror is 
 expressed by convulsive heaving of the bosom, and by 
 hurried respiration and speech. Joy sparkles in the eye, 
 — sorrow vents itself in tears. 
 
 Now, why is it that these signs invariably, and every 
 where, are regarded as the stamp of reality ? The rea- 
 son is, they are not only the genuine language of emotion, 
 but are independent of the will. A groan or shriek speaks 
 to the ear, as the language of distress, with far more 
 thrilling effect than words. Yet these may be counter- 
 feited by art. Much more may common tones of voice 
 be rendered loud or soft, high or low, at pleasure. But, 
 not so with the signs which emotion imprints on the face. 
 Whether anger, fear, joy, — sball show themselves in the 
 hue of my cheek, or the expression of my eye, depends 
 not at all on my choice, any more than whether my heart 
 shall beat, and my blood circulate. So unequivocal is 
 this language of the passions, and so incapable of being 
 applied to purposes of deception, that all men feel its force 
 instinctively and immediately. They know that the hand 
 or the tongue, which obey the dictates of the will, may 
 deceive ; but the face cannot speak falsehood. 
 
 T might add, that he whose soul is so destitute of emo- 
 tion, as not to impart this expression to his countenance, 
 or he whose acquired habits are so unfortunate, as -to frus- 
 trate this expression, whatever qualities he may possess 
 besides, lacks one grand requisite to true eloquence. 
 
148 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 If the visible signs of passion are thus invariable, so 
 that even a child instinctively understands the smile or the 
 frown of its nurse, it is probably no visionary theory which 
 supposes a correspondence, to some extent, between the 
 habits of the mind, and certain configurations in the fea- 
 tures of the face. Every one knows the difference be- 
 tween the cheerful aspect of innocence, the vivacity of 
 intelligence, the charming languor of pity or grief, as im- 
 printed on the countenance ; and the scowl of misanthro- 
 py, the dark suspicion of guilt, the vacant stare of stupid- 
 ity, or the haggard phrensy of despair. And it is reason- 
 able to suppose that affections and intellectual habits, such 
 as benevolence or malignity, cheerfulness or melancholy, 
 deep thought or frivolity, must imprint themselves, just in 
 proportion to their predominance, in distinct and perma- 
 nent lines upon the face. 
 
 Attitude and Mien. 
 
 Here again, all distinctions of any value result from 
 our knowledge of the influence which the mind has on 
 the body. An erect attitude denotes majesty, activity, 
 strength. It becomes the authority of a commander, the 
 energy of a soldier in arms, and in all cases, the dignity 
 of conscious innocence. Adam and Eve, in the descrip- 
 tion of Milton, on account of their noble shape and erect 
 carriage, " seem'd lords of all." The leaning attitude, 
 in its varieties of expression, may denote affection, res- 
 pect, the earnestness of entreaty, the dignity of compos- 
 ure, the listlessness of indifference, or the lassitude of dis- 
 ease. 
 
 The air of a man too, including his general motion. 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 149 
 
 has its language. That peculiarity in the walk of differ- 
 ent persons, which enables us to distinguish at a distance, 
 one friend from another, does not of course mark a cor- 
 respondent discrimination of character. But the meas- 
 ured pace of the ploughman, the strut of the coxcomb, 
 and the dignified gait of the military chief, we necessari- 
 ly associate with a supposed difference of personal quali- 
 ties and habits in the individuals. Hence the queen of 
 Olympus is represented in poetic fable, as claiming to be 
 known by her stately carriage ; " divum incedo regina." 
 And so Venus was known to her son by the elegance of 
 her motion ; " incessu patuit dea." 
 
 In those parts of the body which act frequently and 
 visibly in the common offices of life, motion is more or 
 less significant according to circumstances. A deaf man 
 places his hand by his ear, in such a manner as partially 
 to serve the purpose of a hearing trumpet. He opens 
 his mouth, in the attitude of listening, because defective 
 hearing is assisted by transmission of sound through a pas- 
 sage from the mouth to the ear. 
 
 Joy, approaching to rapture, gives a sparkling brillian- 
 cy to the eye, and a sprightly activity to the limbs. We see 
 this in a long absent child, springing to the arms of its 
 parent ; we see it in the beautiful narrative of the lame 
 man, who had been miraculously healed, " walking, and 
 leaping, and praising God." 
 
 The head gently reclined, denotes grief or shame; 
 erect, — courage, firmness ; thrown back or shaken, — dis- 
 sent, negation ; forwards, assent. 
 
 The hand, raised and inverted, repels; more elevat- 
 ed and extended, denotes surprise; placed on the mouth, 
 13* 
 
150 RHETORICAL ACTION, 
 
 silence ; on the head, pain ; on the breast, affection, or 
 an appeal to conscience ; clenched, it signifies defiance. 
 Both hands raised, with the palms united, express suppli- 
 cation ; gently clasped, thankfulness ; wrung, agony. 
 
 In most of these cases, action is significant because it 
 is spontaneous and uniform. The mother who saw her 
 son just shot dead, in Convent Garden, expressed her 
 amazement by a motion of her hand, such as a thousand 
 others would make, probably without one exception, in 
 similar circumstances. 
 
 A Greek eulogist of Caesar says, " his right hand was 
 mighty to command, which by its majestic power did 
 quell the fierce audacity of barbarous men." "A man 
 standing by the bed of an expiring friend, waving his 
 hand with the palm outward, tells an officious nurse to 
 stand back, at a distance. Again the same hand beck- 
 ons, with the palm inward, and the nurse flies to his assis- 
 tance."* The Roman who held up the stump of his 
 arm, from which the hand was lost in the service of his 
 country, pleaded for his brother, with an eloquence sur- 
 passing the power of words. And all the influence of 
 the Tribunes, could not persuade the people to pass a vote 
 of condemnation against Manlius, while he stood and si- 
 lently stretched out his hand, towards the Capitol, which 
 his valor had saved. 
 
 * Siddons. 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 151 
 
 Sect. 2. — Action considered as significant from custom. 
 
 In this respect its meaning, like that of words, is arbi- 
 trary, local, and mutable. In Europe, respect is express- 
 ed by uncovering the head ; in the east, by keeping it cov- 
 ered. In one country, the same thing is expressed by 
 bowing, in another by kneeling, in another, by prostration. 
 The New Zealander presses his nose against that of his 
 friend, to denote what we express by a squeeze of the 
 hand.* The European welcomes the return of a belov- 
 ed object by an embrace ; — the Otaheitan signifies the 
 same emotion by tearing his hair, and lacerating his body. 
 On gestures of this description I shall say nothing 
 more, except that they have very little concern with grave 
 oratory. This allows nothing as becoming, that does not 
 correspond with time and place, the age of the orator, 
 and the elevation of his subject. It abjures mimicry and 
 pantomime. The theatre admits of attitude and action 
 that would be altogether extravagant in the senate. . The 
 forum too, though much more restricted than the stage, al- 
 lows a violence that would be unsuitable to the business 
 of the sacred orator. Indeed, the dignity of eloquence can 
 in no case condescend to histrionic levity. The comic 
 actor may descend to minute imitation ; he may, for ex- 
 ample, represent the fingers of the physician applied to 
 the pulse of his patient, or of the musician to the strings 
 of his instrument. But in the orator, all this is to be, as 
 Quinctillian says, " longissime fugieridum." 
 
 * Homer makes Glaucus and Diomed, two chiefs of the op- 
 posing armies, shake hands^ as a token of individual friendship. 
 Iliad 6 : 233. 
 
152 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 Part II. — Faults of Rhetorical Action. 
 
 Before I proceed to that cursory view of these which 
 I propose to give, it may be useful to advert to the sour- 
 ces from which they are derived. These are chiefly, per- 
 sonal defects, diffidence, and, imitation. 
 
 Any considerable defect, original or accidental, in 
 the conformation of the body, may injure the force or 
 gracefulness of its movements. The walk of Achilles 
 must have had more dignity, than the halting gait of Ther- 
 sites. If Cicero had lost his right hand, or even the 
 thumb or forefinger of that hand, though he would have 
 been still the first orator of Rome, he would -have been 
 somewhat less than Cicero. Austin observes that short- 
 ness of neck and of arms is unfavorable to oratorical ges- 
 ture. But I am not aware that this remark is justified by 
 facts, except so far as corpulence is unfriendly to agility 
 and freedom of movement. 
 
 Many defects in the action of public speakers, have 
 their origin probably in an unmanly diffidence. When 
 one who has had no preparatory discipline in public 
 speaking, rises to address a large assembly, he is appalled 
 at the very aspect of his audience, and dares not stir a 
 limb, lest he should commit some mistake. Before . he 
 surmounts this timidity, he is liable to fall under the do- 
 minion of habits, from which he can never release himself. 
 When, therefore, Walker says, " A speaker should use no 
 more gesture than he can help," he must mean an accom- 
 plished speaker, whose external powers spontaneously 
 obey the impulse of his feelings. But it would be idle 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 153 
 
 to say that a prisoner, whose hands are pinioned by cords, 
 should stir them no more than he can help. And it is no 
 less idle to say this of a speaker, whose hands are pinion- 
 ed by habit. Cut the cords that bind him, set his limbs 
 at liberty to obey his inward emotions, and I readily ad- 
 mit the justice of the principle. But when diffidence 
 does not acquire such an ascendency as to suppress ac- 
 tion, it may render it constrained and inappropriate, and 
 iii many ways frustrate its utility. 
 
 The only other cause of the imperfections which I am 
 about to notice, is imitation. This, when combined with 
 the one just mentioned, operates with an influence more 
 powerful perhaps, than in any other case. Addison, in 
 describing English oratory, says "We can talk of life and 
 death in cold blood, and keep our temper, in a discourse 
 that turns upon every thing that is dear to us." This 
 censure he extends to the pulpit, the bar, and the senate. 
 The fact he accounts for, partly by the charitable suppo- 
 sition that the English are peculiarly modest ; while he 
 allows us, if he does not oblige us, to ascribe it ultimately 
 to a frigid national temperament. And yet, in this he 
 seems hardly consistent ; for he adds, " Though our zeal 
 breaks out in the finest tropes and figures, it is not able to 
 stir a limb about us." 
 
 But how can the external signs of emotion be thus in- 
 congruous ? A zeal that kindles the soul of a speaker, 
 that bursts from his mouth in tropes, never fails to stir his 
 limbs, unless some powerful, counteracting cause prevents. 
 Now we have just seen that such a cause may exist, 
 which, even in spite of emotion, will as effectually confine 
 a man's hands, as if they were literally bound. And 
 
154 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 what absurdity is there in supposing, that what was excess 
 of modesty, in a few Englishmen of distinction, at some 
 early period, was transferred to others, by imitation ; so 
 that the want of gesture of which Addison complains, be- 
 came a national characteristic ? National habits result 
 from individual, often by a process of ages, the effects of 
 which are manifest, while the operation is unseen. And 
 it is more philosophical to ascribe the fact on which I am 
 remarking, to a public taste, formed and perpetuated by 
 imitation, than to suppose, as is often done, a temperament 
 singularly phlegmatic in a people, whose poets, and secu- 
 lar orators, have unquestionably surpassed all their co- 
 temporaries, in powers of imagination. 
 
 But want of action is not the only fault that may 
 spring from imitation. In the case of individuals, excess 
 and awkwardness, may arise from undue regard to some 
 improper model. Cicero mentions an orator, who was 
 distinguished for pathos, and a wry face ; and says that 
 another, who made him his pattern, imitated his distor- 
 tion of features, but not his pathos. Special faults in one 
 whom we mean to imitate, strike attention, because they 
 commonly appear in the form of peculiarity. This, while 
 it renders imitation more preposterous, renders it, at the 
 same time, more obvious. The .worst gesture of Hamil- 
 ton has been transmitted by imitation, to this time ; and 
 is used by some who never saw that great man, and who 
 know nothing of his manner as a speaker. In this way, 
 some peculiarity, that was perhaps accidental at first, may 
 acquire ascendency in a College, and be transmitted from 
 one generation to another of its students. 
 
 In proceeding now to mention, with more particular- 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 155 
 
 ity, the faults of action, I shall follow the order of my 
 previous remarks on countenance, attitude, and gesture. 
 
 The eye is the only part of the face, that it falls with- 
 in my design to notice here, both because this is the chief 
 seat of expression, and because its significance is especial- 
 ly liable to be frustrated by mismanagement. For rea- 
 sons already mentioned, the intercourse of soul between 
 speaker and hearers, is carried on more unequivocally 
 through the eye, than in any other way. But if he neglects 
 to look at them, and they in return neglect, (as they com- 
 monly will,) to look at hirn ; the mutual reaction of feel- 
 ing through the countenance, is lost ; and vocal language 
 
 : is all the medium of intercourse that remains.* 
 
 The eye " bent on vacuity," as the artists call it, is the 
 next most common defect, of this sort. The glass-eye 
 of a wax-figure, at once tells its own character. There 
 may be, in other respects, the proportion and complexion 
 of a human face ; but that eye, the moment it is examin- 
 
 , ed, you perceive is nothing more, and, at best, it can be 
 nothing more, than a bungling counterfeit. So the eye 
 of a speaker may be open, and yet not see ; at least there 
 may be no discrimination, no meaning in its look. It 
 
 1 
 
 * The reader will please to observe that, in the following pa- 
 ges, such remarks as apply solely or peculiarly to the pulpit, are 
 given in the notes. 
 
 It falls not within my design here, to inquire how far the prev- 
 alent practice of reading sermons, ought to be dispensed with. 
 But it is plainly absurd to speak of expression in a preacher's eye, 
 while it is fixed on a manuscript. Nearly the same infelicity, and 
 on some accounts a greater one, attends the rapid, dodging cast 
 of the eye from the notes to the hearers, and back again ; imply- 
 ing a servile dependence on what is written, even in repeating 
 the most familiar declarations of the Bible. And this infelicity is 
 still aggravated by such a position of the manuscript, as to require 
 the eye to be turned directly downward in looking at it. 
 
15G RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 does not look at any thing. There is in its expression, a 
 generality, a vacuity, so to speak, that expresses nothing. 
 To the same class belongs that indefinite sweep of the 
 eye, which passes from one side to another of an assembly, 
 resting no where ; and that tremulous, waving cast of the 
 eye, and winking of the eyelid, which is in direct contrast to 
 an open, collected, manly expression of the face.* 
 
 So fatal are these faults to the impression of delivery, 
 that too much care cannot be taken to avoid them. 
 
 Attitude I use, not in the theatrical sense of the word, 
 (for this has no concern with oratory,) but as denoting the 
 general positions of the body, which are becoming or oth- 
 erwise in a speaker. In some few instances I have ob- 
 served the head to be kept so erect, as to give the air of 
 haughtiness. In others, it is dropped so low, that the man 
 seems to be carelessly surveying his own person. In oth- 
 ers, it is reclined towards one shoulder, so as to give the 
 appearance of languor or indolence. f 
 
 As to the degree of motion that is proper for the body, 
 it may be safely said, that while the fixedness of a post is 
 an extreme, all violent tossing of the body from side to 
 side, rising on the toes, or writhing of the shoulders and 
 limbs, are not less unseemly. 
 
 * Here again the habit acquired by some preachers, from 
 closely reading their sermons, is such, that when they raise their 
 eye from the paper, they fix it on the floor of the aisle, or on a post 
 or pannel, to avoid a direct look at their hearers. 
 
 t There is often something characteristic in the air with which 
 a preacher enters a church, ascends the pulpit, and rises in it to 
 address an assemby. If he assumes the gracefulness of a fine gen- 
 tleman, as if he were practising the lessons of an assembly room, ev- 
 ery hearer of discernment will see that his object is to exhibit him- 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 157 
 
 The remarks which come next to be made on gesture, 
 are more various.* 
 
 One principal fault which I have noticed in this, is want 
 of appropriateness. By this I mean that it is not suffi- 
 ciently adapted to circumstances. An address to an as- 
 sembly of common men, admits a boldness of action, that 
 would be unseemly in one delivered to a prince. f 
 
 self, and will be offended at so gross a want of that seriousness 
 which becomes his sacred office. 
 
 In minor points, — what constitutes decorum depends not on 
 philosophy nor accident, but on custom. From real or affected 
 carelessness on such points the preacher may fix on some trivial 
 circumstance, that attention of his hearers, which should be devot- 
 ed to greater things. He may do this, for example, by standing 
 much too high, or too low in the pulpit ; by rising, as in the act 
 of commencing his sermon, before the singing is closed ; or delay- 
 ing for so long an interval, as to excite apprehension that something 
 has befallen him ; by an awkward holding of his Fsalm book, ur es- 
 pecially his Bible, with one side hanging down or doubled back- 
 wards ; — by drawing his hands behind him, or thrusting them into 
 his clothes. 
 
 In these things, as in all others, connected with the worship of 
 God, it is the province of good sense to avoid peculiarity in trifles, 
 
 * The prevailing taste in our own country, like that of England, 
 has been to employ but little action in the- pulpit. Whitefield, in 
 the last century, broke through the trammels of custom, in a bold- 
 ness and variety of action bordering on that of the stage. But his 
 gesture, like his elocution, was far from the declamatory. His 
 hand had scarcely less authority than Caesar's ; and the movement 
 even of his finger gave an electric thrill to the bosoms of his hear- 
 ers. Massillon's action was less" diversified, and less powerful, 
 though more refined, as was the general character of his eloquence. 
 
 t On this principle it is, that gesture is felt, to be so unseason- 
 able in personating God, and in addresses made to him. When we 
 introduce him as speaking to man, or when we speak of his adorable 
 perfections, or to him in prayer, the sentiments inspired demand com- 
 posure and reverence of manner. Good taste then can never ap- 
 prove the stretching upward of the hands at full length, in the man- 
 ner of Whitefield, at the commencement of prayer ; nor the frown- 
 ingaspectand the repellingmovemcnt of the hand, with which many 
 
 "Depart, ye cursed,' 1 &c. 
 
 14 
 
158 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 More vivacity and variety is admissible in the action 
 of a young speaker, than of one who is aged ; and the 
 same boldness of manner which is proper when the orator 
 is kindled to a glowing fervor, in the close of a discourse, 
 would be out of place at its commencement. Yet the same 
 action is used by some speakers, in the exordium, as in the 
 conclusion, in cool argument to the understanding, as in 
 impassioned appeals to the heart. Good sense will lead 
 a man, as Quinctilian says, "To act as well as to speak 
 in a different manner, to different persons, at different 
 times, and on different subjects." 
 
 Nearly of the same class is another kind of faults, 
 arising from want of discrimination. Of this sort is that 
 puerile imitation which consists in acting words, instead 
 of thoughts. The declaimer can never utter the word 
 heart, without laying his hand on his breast ; nor speak of 
 God or heaven, in the most incidental manner, without 
 directing his eye and his gesture upward. Let the same 
 principle be carried out in repeating the prophet's descrip- 
 tion of true fasting ; " It is not for a man to bow down 
 his head as a bulrush, &c." — and every one would see 
 that to conform the gesture to the words, is but childish 
 mimicry. This false taste has been reprobated even on 
 the stage, as in the following passage from Hamlet. 
 
 — Why should the poor be flatter'd ? 
 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp ; 
 And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, 
 When thrift may follow fawning. 
 
 That is not passion's slave.— 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 159 
 
 A certain actor, in repeating these lines, bent the knee, 
 and kissed the hand, instead of assuming, as he ought, 
 the firm attitude and indignant look, proper to express 
 Hamlet's contempt for a cringing parasite. But it is still 
 more absurd in grave delivery to regard mere phraseolo- 
 gy instead of sentiment and emotion. 
 
 There is no case in which this want of discrimination 
 oftener occurs, than in a class of words denoting some- 
 times numerical, and sometimes local extent, accompanied 
 by the spreading of both hands ; the significance of this 
 gesture being destroyed by misapplication. The follow- 
 ing examples may illustrate my meaning. 
 
 Exam. 1. " The goodness of God is the source of 
 all our blessings." The declaimer, when he utters the 
 word God, raises his eye and his right hand ; and when 
 he utters the word all extends both hands. Now this lat- 
 ter action confounds two things that are very distinct, num- 
 ber and space. When I recount all the blessings of my 
 life, they are very many ; but why should I spread my 
 hands, to denote a multiplicity that is merely numerical 
 and successive ? when the thought has no concern with lo- 
 cal dimensions any more than in this case : " All the days 
 of Methuselah were nine hundred and sixty years." 
 
 Exam. 2. " All the actions of our lives will be brought 
 into judgment." Here again, the thought is that of arith- 
 metical succession, not of local extent ; and if any gesture 
 is demanded, it is not the spreading of both hands. 
 
 •Exam. 3. "I bring you glad tidings of great joy, 
 which shall be to all people." Here the local extent 
 which belongs to the thought, is properly expressed by- 
 action of both hands. 
 
160 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 If there is language in action, it requires propriety and 
 precision. The indiscriminate movement of the hands 
 signifies nothing. Want of emphasis in this language is 
 a great, but common fault. When the speaker, however, 
 has an emphatic stroke of the hand, its effect is lost if 
 that stroke does not accompany the emphasis of the voice ; 
 that is, if it falls one syllable after the stress of voice, or 
 if it is disproportionate in force to that stress, in the same 
 degree its meaning is impaired. The direction of the 
 hand too, in which the emphatic stroke terminates, is sig- 
 nificant. The elevated termination suits high passion ; 
 the horizontal, decision ; the downward, disapprobation. 
 And any of these may denote definitive designation of 
 particular objects. 
 
 Another fault of action is excess. In some cases it is 
 too constant. To enter on a discourse with passionate 
 exclamations and high wrought figures, while the speaker 
 and audience are both cool, is not more absurd than to 
 begin with continual gesticulation. No man probably ev- 
 er carried this kind of language to so high a pitch as Gar- 
 rick. Yet Dr. Gregory says of this great dramatic speak- 
 er ; " He used less action than any performer I ever saw ; 
 but his action always had meaning; it always spoke. By 
 being less than that of other actors, it had the greater 
 force." But if constant action has too much levity, even 
 for the stage, what shall we say of that man's taste, who, 
 in speaking on a subject of serious importance, can scarce- 
 ly utter a sentence without extending his hands. " JVe 
 quid nimis."* 
 
 * Fenelon says, — " Some time ago, I happened to fall asleep at 
 a sermon ; and when I awaked, the preacher was in a very violent 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 161 
 
 But action may be not merely too much ; — it may be 
 too violent. Such are the habits of some men, that they 
 can never raise the hand, without stretching the arm at 
 full length above the head, or in a horizontal sweep ; or 
 drawing it back, as if in the attitude of prostrating some 
 giant at a stroke. But such a man seems to forget that 
 gentleness, and tranquillity, and dignity are attributes that 
 prevail more than violence, in real oratory. The full 
 stroke of the hand, with extended arm, should be reserv- 
 ed for its own appropriate occasions. For common pur- 
 poses, a smaller movement is sufficient, and even more 
 expressive. The meaning of a gesture depends not on 
 its compass. The tap of Caesar's finger was enough to 
 awe a Senate. 
 
 Action is often too complex. When there is want of 
 precision, in the intellectual habits of the speaker, he 
 adopts perhaps two or three gestures for one thought. 
 In this way all simplicity is sacrificed ; for though the idea 
 is complex, an attempt to exhibit each shade of meaning 
 by the hand, is ridiculous. After one principal stroke, 
 every appendage to this, commonly weakens its effect. 
 
 Another fault of action, is too great uniformity. Like 
 periodic tones and stress of voice, the same gesture recur- 
 
 agitation, so that I fancied at first, he was pressing 1 some important 
 point of morality. But be was only giving notice, that on the Sun- 
 day following he would preach upon repentance. I was extreme- 
 ly surprised to hear so indifferent a thing uttered with so much ve- 
 hemence. The motion of the arm is proper, when the orator is 
 very vehement ; but he ought not to move his arm in order to ap- 
 pear vehement. Nay, there are many things that ought to be pro- 
 nounced calmly, and without any motion." 
 
 14* 
 
1G2 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 ring constantly, shows want of discriminating taste. " In all 
 things," says Cicero, " repetition is the parent of satiety."* 
 
 This barren sameness in a man's manner, usually 
 prevails, just in proportion as it is ungraceful. Suppose, 
 for example, that he is accustomed to raise his arm by a 
 motion from the shoulder, without bending the elbow \ 
 or that the elbow is bent to a right angle, and thrust out- 
 ward ; or that it is drawn close to the side, so that the ac- 
 tion* is confined to the lower part of the arm and hand ; 
 or that the hand is drawn to the left, by bending the wrist 
 so far as to give the appearance of constraint, or backwards 
 so far as to contract the thumb and fingers ; — in all these 
 cases, the motion is at once stiff and unvaried. 
 
 The same thing is commonly true of all short, abrupt, 
 and jerking movements. These remind you of the dry 
 limb of a tree, forced into short and rigid vibrations by the 
 wind ; and not of the luxuriant branch of the willow? 
 gently and variously waving before the breeze. The ac- 
 tion of the graceful speaker is easy and flowing as well as 
 forcible. His hand describes curve lines rather than 
 right or acute angles ; and when its office is finished, in 
 any case, it drops gently down at his side, instead of be- 
 ing snatched away, as from the bite of a reptile. The ac- 
 tion of young children is never deficient in grace or variety; 
 because it is not vitiated by diffidence, affectation, or habit. 
 
 There is one more class of faults, which seem to arise 
 from an attempt to shun such as 1 have just described, 
 and which I cannot better designate than by the phrase 
 mechanical variety. 
 
 * " When a preacher" says Reybaz " has only one gesture, it 
 will necessarily, be incorrect or insig-nificant :— a dull uniformity of 
 action is the common defect of preachers." 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 163 
 
 This is analogous to that variety of tones which is pro- 
 duced by an effort to be various, without regard to sense. 
 The diversity of notes, like those of a chiming clock, re- 
 turns periodically, but is always the same diversity. So a 
 speaker may have several gestures which he repeats al- 
 ways in the same successive order. The most common 
 form of this artificial variety consists in the alternate use 
 of the right hand, and the left. I have seen a preacher, 
 who aimed to avoid sameness of action, in the course of 
 a few sentences, extend first his right hand, then his left, 
 and then both. This order was continued through the 
 discourse ; so that these three gestures, whatever might 
 be the sentiment, returned, with nearly periodical exact- 
 ness. Now whatever variety is attained in this way, is at 
 best but a uniform variety ; and is the more disgusting, 
 in proportion as it is the more studied and artificial. 
 
 But the question arises, does this charge always lie 
 against the use of the left hand alone ? I answer, by no 
 means. The almost universal precepts, however, in the in- 
 stitutes of oratory, giving precedence to the right hand, are 
 not without reason. It has been said, indeed, that the con- 
 finement of the left hand in holding up the robe, was orig- 
 inally the ground of this preference ; and that this is a 
 reason which does not exist in modern times. But how 
 did it happen that this service, denoting inferiority, came 
 to be assigned to the left, rather than the right hand ? 
 Doubtless because this accords with a general usage of 
 men, through all time. When Joseph brought his two 
 sons to be blessed by Jacob, the patriarch signified which 
 was the object of special benediction, by placing the right 
 hand on his head, and the left on the head of the other. 
 
164 RHETORICAL ACTIOX. 
 
 As a token of respect to his mother, Solomon gave her a 
 seat on the right hand of his throne. In the same man- 
 ner the righteous will be distinguished from the wicked, 
 in the final judgment. Throughout the Bible, the right 
 hand is spoken of as the emblem of honour, strength, au- 
 thority, or victoiy. 
 
 The common act of salutation is expressed by the 
 right hand ; and hence its name dextra, from dt^o^iav to 
 take, that is by the hand ; and hence, by figure, the En- 
 glish word dextrous^ denoting skill and agility. General 
 custom has always given preference to the right hand, 
 when only one is used, in the common offices of life. The 
 sword of the warrior, the knife of the surgical operator, 
 the pen of the author, belong to this hand. With us, to 
 call a man left handed is to call him awkward ; and it is a 
 curious fact that the Sandwich Islanders use the same 
 phrase to denote ignorance or unskilfulness. To give 
 the left hand in salutation, denotes a careless familiarity 
 and levity, never offered to a superior. To employ this 
 in taking an oath, or in giving what is called the " right 
 hand of fellowship," as a religious act, w T ould be deemed 
 rusticity or irreverent trifling. 
 
 Now so long as this general usage exists, without en- 
 quiring here into its origin, it is manifest that the left hand 
 can never, without incongruity, assume precedence over 
 the right, so as to perform alone the principal gesture, with 
 the few exceptions mentioned below. To raise this hand, 
 for example, as expressing authority ; or to lay it on the 
 breast, in an appeal to conscience, would be likely to ex- 
 cite a smile. Though it often acts, with great significance, 
 in conjunction with the right hand, the only cases that I 
 
RHETORICAL ACTION. 165 
 
 recollect where it can with propriety act alone, in the 
 principal gesture, are these : 
 
 First, when the left hand is spoken of in contradistinc- 
 tion from the right ; as " He shall set the sheep on his 
 right hand, but the goats on his left." Secondly, when 
 there is local allusion to some object on the left of the 
 speaker. For example, if his face is to the north, and he 
 points to the setting sun, it is better perhaps to do it with 
 his left hand, than to turn his body, so as to make it con- 
 venient to. do it with his right. Thirdly, when two things 
 are contrasted, though without local allusion, if the case 
 requires that one be marked by the action of the right 
 hand, it is often best to mark the antithetic object with the 
 left. 
 
 But I would not magnify, by dwelling on it, a ques- 
 tion of so small moment. It would have been despatched 
 in a sentence or two, had it not seemed proper to show, 
 that what some are disposed to call an arbitrary and 
 groundless precept of ancient rhetoric, has its foundation 
 in a general and instinctive feeling of propriety. Still I 
 would say, that when a departure from this precept results 
 not from affectation, but from emotion, it is far better than 
 any minute observance of propriety, which arises from 
 a coldly correct and artificial habit. 
 
 In finishing this chapter, the general remark may be 
 made, as applying to action, and indeed to the whole sub- 
 ject of delivery, that many smaller blemishes are scarcely 
 observed in a speaker, who is deeply interested in his sub- 
 ject ; while the affectation of excellence is never excus- 
 ed by judicious hearers. To be a first-rate orator, re- 
 quires a combination of powers which few men possess; 
 
166 RHETORICAL ACTION. 
 
 and no means of cultivation can ever confer these highest 
 requisites for eloquence, on public speakers generally. 
 But neither is it necessary to eminent usefulness, that 
 these requisites should be possessed by all. Any man, 
 who has good sense, and a warm heart, if his faculties for 
 elocution are not essentially defective, and if he is patient 
 and faithful in the discipline of these faculties, may ren- 
 der himself an agreeable and impressive speaker. 
 
EXERCISES, 
 
 DESIGNED TO ILLUSTRATE THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 RHETORICAL DELIVERY. 
 
 REMARKS AND DIRECTIONS. 
 
 These Exercises are divided into two parts. The 
 first part consists of selections, which are made expressly ' 
 to illustrate the principles laid down in the foregoing an- 
 alysis of rhetorical delivery. The classification of 
 these selections is denoted, in each case, by .the number, 
 corresponding with the marginal figures in the Analysis. 
 In using these exercises of the first part, the student may 
 be assisted by the following remarks and directions. 
 
 1. When a principle is supposed to be already famil- 
 iar, the illustrations will be few ; in cases of more difficul- 
 ty, or more importance, they will be extended to greater 
 length. 
 
 2. In these examples, a rhetorical notation is applied, 
 to designate inflection, emphasis, and, in some instances, 
 modulation. When a word has but a moderate stress, it 
 
 | will often be distinguished only by the mark of inflection ; 
 
16S REMARKS AND DIRECTIONS. 
 
 when the stress amounts to decided emphasis, it wiJl be 
 denoted by the Italic type ; and sometimes, when strong- 
 ly intensive, by small capitals. The reader is desired to 
 remember too, that in passages taken from the Scriptures, 
 Italic words are not used as in the English Bible, but 
 simply to express emphasis. 
 
 3. This rhetorical notation is applied, only to cases in 
 which my own judgment is pretty clear; though, in many 
 of these cases, I am aware that there is room for diversity 
 of taste. Should this notation be found useful in practice, 
 it may be more extensively applied, in a separate collec- 
 tion of exercises. 
 
 4. The principle to be illustrated by any Exercise, 
 should be carefully examined and well understood, in the 
 first place ; and until the student has become quite famil- 
 iar with this praxis of the voice, he should not attempt 
 to read an example, longer or shorter, without previous 
 attention to it. 
 
 5. The reader will observe that only very short ex- 
 amples can be expected to apply exclusively to a single 
 principle. On account of the great labor and difficulty 
 of selecting such examples, longer ones are often chosen, 
 which include other principles besides the one specially 
 in view. It will be deemed sufficient in such cases, that 
 there is an obvious relation to the point chiefly to be re- 
 garded. 
 
Ex. 1,2."] EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 169 
 
 EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 
 
 1.] Page 27. Difficult articulation from immediate suc- 
 cession of the same or similar sounds. 
 
 1. The youth hates study. 
 
 2. The wild beasts draggled through the vale. 
 
 3. The steadfast Granger in the forest strayed. 
 
 4. It was the fines* street of the city. 
 
 5. When Aja# strives some rock's vast weight to throw. 
 
 6. It was the severest storm of the season, but the 
 masts stood through the gale. 
 
 7. That lasts till night. ) 
 That last still night. $ • 
 
 8. He can debate on either side of the question. > 
 He can debate on weather side of the question. ) 
 
 9. Who ever imagined such an ocean to exist ? 
 Who ever imagined such a notion to exist I 
 
 2.] Page 28. Difficult succession of consonants without 
 accent. 
 
 1. He has taken leave of terrestrial trials and enjoy- 
 ments, and is laid in the grave, the common receptacle and 
 home of mortals. 
 
 2. Though this barbarous chief received us very cour- 
 teously, and spoke to us very communicatively at the first 
 interview, we soon lost our confidence in the disinterest- 
 edness of his motives. • 
 
 • 3. Though there could be no doubt as to the reason- 
 ableness of our request, yet he saw fit peremptorily to re- 
 15 
 
170 
 
 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 3, 4. 
 
 fuse it, and authoritatively to require that we should de- 
 part from the country. As no alternative was left us, we 
 unhesitatingly prepared to obey this arbitrary mandate. 
 
 3.] Page 29. Tendency to slide over unaccented vowels. 
 The brief illustration of this at p. 30 is perhaps sufficient. 
 
 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION". 
 
 4.] Page 47. The disjunctive (or) has the rising in- 
 flection before, and the falling after it. 
 
 1. Then said Jesus tinto them, I will ask you one 
 thing ; Is it lawful on the sabbath-days to do good, or to 
 do evil ? to save life, or to destroy it ? 
 
 2. Whether we are hurt by a mad or a blind man, 
 the pain is still the same. And with regard to those who 
 are undone, it avails little whether it be by a man who 
 deceives them, or. by one who is himself deceived. 
 
 3. Has God -forsaken the works of his own hands ? 
 or does he always graciously preserve, and keep and 
 guide them ? 
 
 4. Therefore, O ye judges ! you are now to consid- 
 er, whether it is more probable that the deceased was 
 murdered by the man who inherits his estate, or by him, 
 who inherits nothing but beggary by the same death. By 
 the man who was. raised from penury to plenty, or by him 
 who was brought from happiness to misery. By him 
 whom the lust of lucre has inflamed with the most invet* 
 
Ex. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 171 
 
 erate' hatred against his own relations; or by him whose 
 life was such, that he never knew what gain was but from 
 the product of his own labours. By him, who, of all 
 dealers in the trade of blood, was the most audacious ; 
 or by him who was so little accustomed to the forum and 
 trials, that he dreads not only the benches of a court, but 
 the very town. In short, ye judges, .what I think most to 
 this point is, you are to consider whether it is most likely 
 that an enemy, or a son, would be guilty of this murder. 
 5. As for the particular occasion of these (charity) 
 schools, there cannot any offer more worthy a generous 
 mind. Would you do a handsome thing without return ? 
 — do it for an infant that is not sensible of the obligation.* 
 Would you do it for the public good ? — do it for one who 
 will be an honest artificer. Would you do it for the sake 
 of heaven ? — give it for one who shall be instructed in the 
 worship of Him for whose sake you gave it. 
 
 5.] Page 47. The direct question has the rising inflec- 
 tion, and the answer has the falling. 
 
 1. Will the Lord cast off for ever ? and will he be 
 favourable no more . ? Is his mercy clean gone for ever ? 
 doth his promise fail for evermore ? Hath God forgotten 
 to be gracious ? hath he in anger shut up his tender 
 mercies f 
 
 2. Is not this the carpenter's son ? is not his mother 
 called Mary ? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and 
 Simon, and Judas . ? and his sisters, are they not all with us ? 
 
 3. Are we intended for actors in the grand drama of 
 
 . * Disjunctive or is understood. 
 
172 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 5. 
 
 eternity? Are we candidates for the plaudit. of tire ra- 
 tional creation ? Are we formed to participate the su- 
 preme beatitude in communicating happiness? Are we 
 destined to co-operate with God in advancing the order 
 and perfection of his works ? How sublime a creature 
 then is man ! ■ 
 
 4. Can we believe a thinking being, that is in a per- 
 petual progress of improvements,, and travelling on from 
 perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad 
 into the works of its creator, and made a (ew discoveries 
 of his infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, must perish 
 at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her 
 inquiries ? 
 
 The following are examples of both question and answer, 
 
 5. Who are the persons -that are most apt to fall into 
 peevishness and dejection — that are continually complain- 
 ing of the world, and see nothing but wretchedness around 
 them ? Are they those whom want compels to toil for 
 their daily bread— who have no treasure but the labor of 
 their hands—who rise with the rising sun to expose them- 
 selves to all the rigors of the seasons, unsheltered from 
 the winter's cold, and unshaded from the summer's heat ? 
 No. The labors of such are the very blessings of their 
 condition. 
 
 6. What, then, what was Caesar's object? Do we se- 
 lect extortioners, to enforce the laws of. equity ? Do we 
 make choice of profligates, to guard the morals of socfe- 
 ty ? Do we depute atheists-, to preside over the rites of 
 religion ? I will not press the answer : I need not press 
 the answer ; the premises of my argument render it un- 
 
Ex.5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 173 
 
 necessary. — What would content you ? Talent ? No ! 
 Enterprise ? No ! Courage ? No ! Reputation ? ' No ! 
 Virtue ? No ! The men whom you would select, should 
 possess, not one, but all of these. 
 
 7. Can the truth be discovered when the slaves 
 of the prosecutor are brought as witnesses against the per- 
 son accused ? Let us hear now what kind of an exami- 
 nation this was. Call in Ruscio ; call in Casca. Did 
 Clodius w r ay-lay Milo . ? He did : Drag them instantly to 
 execution. — He did not : Let them have their liberty. 
 What can be more satisfactory than this method of exam- 
 ination ? 
 
 8. Are you desirous that your talents and abilities may 
 procure you respect ? Display them not ostentatiously 
 to public view. Would you escape the envy which your 
 riches might excite ? Let them not minister to pride, but 
 adorn them with humility. — There is not an evil incident 
 to human nature for which- the gospel doth not provide a 
 a remedy. Are you ignorant of many things which it 
 highly concerns you to know f The gospel offers you 
 instruction. Have you deviated from the path of duty ? 
 The gospel offers you forgiveness. Do temptations sur- 
 round you ? The gospel offers you the aid of heaven. 
 Are you exposed to misery ? It consoles you. Are you 
 subject to death ? I.t offers you immortality. 
 
 9. Oh how hast thou with jealousy infected 
 The sweetness of affiance ! show men dutiful ? 
 Why so didst thou : or 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 : 
 
 15* 
 
174 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 6, 7. 
 
 6.] Page 48. When (or) is used conjunctively, it has 
 the same inflection before and after it. 
 
 In some sentences the disjunctive and the conjunctive use of or 
 are so intermingled as to require careful attention to distinguish 
 Ihem. 
 
 1. Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the 
 furrow ? or will he harrow the valleys after thee ? Wilt 
 thou trust him because his strength is great ? or wilt thou 
 leave thy labour to him ? Gavest thou the goodly wings 
 unto the peacocks ? or wings and feathers unto the os- 
 trich ? Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook ? or 
 his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down ? Canst 
 thou put a hook into his nose ? or bore his jaw through 
 with a thorn ? Wilt thou play with him as with a bird ? 
 or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens ? Canst thou fill 
 his skin with barbed irons ? Or his head with fish spears . ? 
 
 2. But should these credulous infidels after all be in 
 the right, and this pretended revelation be all a fable ; 
 from believing it what harm could ensue ? . would it ren- 
 der princes more tyrannical, or subjects more ungoverna- 
 ble, the rich more insolent, or the poor more disorderly ? 
 Would it make worse parents or children, husbands, or 
 wives ; . masters, or servants, friends, or neighbours ? or 
 would it not make men more virtuous, and, consequently, 
 more happy in every situation ?* 
 
 7.] Page 49. Negation opposed to affirmation. 
 
 1. True charity is not a meteor, which occasionally 
 
 * The last or is disjunctive. 
 
Ex.7.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 175 
 
 glares ; but a luminary, which, in its orderly and regular 
 course, dispenses a benignant influence. 
 
 2. The humble do not necessarily regard themselves 
 as the un worthiest of all with whom they are acquainted ; 
 but, while they acknowledge and admire in many, a de- 
 gree of excellence which they have not attained, they 
 perceive, even in those to whom they are in some respect 
 superiors, much to praise, and much to imitate. 
 
 3. Think not, that the influence of devotion is confin- 
 ed to the retirement of the closet and the assemblies of 
 the saints. Imagine not, that, unconnected with the du- 
 ties of life, it is suited only to those enraptured souls, 
 whose feelings, perhaps, you deride as romantic and vis- 
 ionary. It is the -guardian of innocence — it is the instru- 
 ment of virtue — it is a mean by which every good affec- 
 tion may be formed and improved. 
 
 4. Caesar, who would not wait the conclusion of the 
 consul's speech, generously replied, that he came into It- 
 aly not to injure' the liberties of Rome and its citizens, but 
 to restore" them. 
 
 5. If any man sin, we have an advocate with the 
 Father, Jesus Christ the righteous : and he is the propiti- 
 ation for our sins ; and not for ours only, but also for the 
 sins of the whole wdiid. 
 
 6. It is not. the business of virtue to extirpate the af- 
 fections of the mind, but to regulate" them. 
 
 7. These things I say now, not to insult one who is 
 fallen, but to render more secure those who stand ; not 
 to irritate the hearts of the wounded, but to preserve those 
 who are not yet wounded, in sound health ; not to sub- 
 merge him who is tossed on the billows, but to instruct 
 
176 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. S. 
 
 those sailing before a propitious breeze, that they may 
 not be plunged beneath the waves. 
 
 8. But this is no. time for a tribunal of justice, but for 
 showing mercy ; not for accusation, but for philanthropy ; 
 not for trial, but for pardon ; not for sentence and execu- 
 tion, but for compassion and kindness. 
 
 8.] Page 49. Comparison and contrast. 
 
 1 . By honor and dishonor, by evil report and good 
 report ; as deceivers, and yet true ; as unknown, and yet 
 well known ; as dy'ing, and behold we live ; as chasten- 
 ed, "and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing ; 
 as poor, yet making many rich ; as having nothing, and 
 yet possessing all things. 
 
 Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers : 
 for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteous- 
 ness ? and what communion hath light with darkness ? 
 and what concord hath Christ with Belial f or what part 
 hath he that believeth with an infidel ? 
 
 2. The .house of the wicked shall be overthrown ; 
 but the tabernacle of the upright shall flourish. There is a 
 way which seemeth right unto a man ; but the end there- 
 of are the ways of death. Even in laughter the heart is 
 sorrowful ; and the end of that mirth is heaviness. A 
 wise man feareth, and departeth from evil ; but the fool 
 rageth, and is confident. The wicked is driven away in 
 his wickedness ; but the righteous hath hope in his death. 
 Righteousness exalteth a nation ; but sin is a reproach to 
 any people. The king's favour is toward a wise servant ; 
 but his wrath is against him that causeth shame. 
 
Ex. 8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 177 
 
 3. Between fame and true honor a distinction is to be 
 made. The former is a blind and noisy applause : the 
 latter a more silent and internal homage. Fame floats on 
 the breath of the multitude : honor rests on the judgment 
 of the thinking. Fame may give praise, while it with- 
 holds esteem ; true honor implies esteem, mingled with 
 respect. The one regards particular distinguished tal- 
 ents : the other looks up to the whole character. 
 
 4. The most frightful disorders arose from the state of 
 feudal anarchy. Force decided all things. Europe was 
 one great field of battle, where the weak struggled for 
 freedom, and the strong for dominion. The king was 
 without power, and the nobles without principle. They 
 were tyrants at home, and robbers abroad. Nothing re- 
 mained to be a check upon ferocity and violence. 
 
 5. These two qualities, delicacy and correctness, 
 mutually imply each other. No taste can be exquisitely 
 delicate without being correct ; nor can be thoroughly 
 correct without being delicate. But still a predominancy 
 of one or other quality in the mixture is often visible. 
 The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in discerning the 
 true merit of a work ; the power of correctness, in re- 
 jecting 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. Among the ancient crit- 
 ics, Longinus possessed most delicacy; Aristotle, most 
 correctness. Among the moderns, Mr. Addison is a 
 high example of delicate taste ; Dean Swift, had he writ-' 
 ten on the subject of criticism, would perhaps have affor- 
 ded the example of a correct one. 
 
178 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8. 
 
 6. Reason, eloquence, and every art which ever has 
 been studied among mankind, may be abused,, and may 
 prove dangerous in the hands of bad men ; but it were 
 perfectly childish to contend, that, upon this account, they 
 ought to be abolished. 
 
 7. To Bourdaloue, the French critics attribute more 
 solidity and close reasoning ; to Massillon, a more pleas- 
 ing and engaging manner. Bourdaloue is indeed a great 
 reasoner, and inculcates his doctrines with much zeal, pi- 
 ety, and earnestness : but his style is verbose, he is disa- 
 greeably full of quotations from the Fathers, and he wants 
 imagination* 
 
 8. Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil the better 
 artist : in the one, we most admire the man ; in the oth- 
 er, the work. Homer hurries us with a commanding im- 
 petuosity ; Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. 
 Homer scatters with a generous profusion ; Virgil bestows 
 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. — And when we look 
 upon their machines, Homer seems, like his own Jupiter 
 in his terrors, shaking Olympus, scattering the lightnings, 
 and firing the heavens ; Virgil, like the same power in 
 his benevolence, counselling with the gods, laying plans 
 for empires, and ordering his whole creation. 
 
 9. Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, 
 and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dryden 
 were formed by comprehensive speculation, those of Pope 
 by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowl- 
 edge of Dry den, and more certainty in that of Pope. 
 
 Poetry was not the sole praise of either $ for both ex- 
 
Ex.8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 179 
 
 celled likewise in prose : but Pope did not borrow his 
 prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is 
 capricious and varied ; that of Pope is cautious and uni- 
 form. Dryden obeys the motions of his own mind ; 
 Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. 
 Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid ; Pope is al- 
 ways smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a 
 natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by 
 the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation ; Pope's 
 is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by 
 
 the roller. Dryden's performances, were always hasty ; 
 
 either excited by. some external occasion, or extorted by 
 domestic necessity : he composed without consideration, 
 and published without correction'. What his mind' could 
 supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he 
 sought and all that he gave. The dilatory caution of 
 Pope enabled him to condense his sentiments, to mul- 
 tiply his images, and to accumulate all that study might 
 produce, or chance might supply. If the flights of Dry- 
 den, therefore, are higher, Pope continues longer on the 
 wing. If of Dryden's fire, the blaze is brighter ; of 
 Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Dryden 
 often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below 
 it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope 
 with perpetual delight. 
 
 10. Never before were so many opposing interests, 
 passions, and principles, committed to such a decision. On 
 one side an attachment to the ancient order' of things, on 
 the other a passionate desire of change ; a wish in some 
 to perpetuate, in others to destroy every thing ; every 
 abuse sacred in the eyes of the former, every foundation 
 
180 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 8, 9. 
 
 attempted to be demolished by the latter ; a jealousy of 
 power shrinking from the slightest innovation, pretensions 
 to freedom pushed to madness and anarchy; superstition 
 in all its dotage, impiety in all its fury; whatever, in short, 
 could be found most discordant in the- principles, or vio- 
 lent in the passions of men, were the fearful ingredients 
 which the hand of Divine justice selected to mingle in 
 this furnace of wrath. 
 
 9.] Page 51. The pause of suspension requires the ris- 
 ing slide. 
 
 In the Analysis, several kinds of sentences are classed, to which 
 this rule applies. But as the principle is the same in all, no dis- 
 tinction is necessary in the Exercises. 
 
 1. Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius 
 C&sar, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Her- 
 od being tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip te- 
 trarch of Iturea and of the region of Trachouitis, and 
 Lysanias the tetrarch of Abilene, Annas and Caiaphas 
 being the high priests, the word of God came unto John 
 the son of Zacharias in the wilderness. 
 
 2. For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but 
 cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of 
 darkness, to be reserved unto judgment; And spared not 
 the old world, but saved Noah the eighth person, a preach- 
 er of righteousness, bringing in the flood upon the world 
 of the ungodly ; And turning the cities of Sodom and 
 Gomorrah into ashes, condemned them with an overthrow, 
 making them an ensample unto those that after should live 
 ungodly ; And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy 
 
Ex. 9.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 181 
 
 conversation of the wicked : (For that righteous man 
 dwelling' among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his 
 righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds ;) 
 The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temp- 
 tations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judg- 
 ment to be punished. 
 
 3. I am content to wave the argument I might draw 
 from hence in favour of my client, whose destiny was so 
 peculiar, that he could not secure his own safety, without 
 securing yours and that of the republic at the same time. 
 If he could not do it lawfully, there is no room for at- 
 tempting his defence. But if reason teaches the learned, 
 necessity the Barbarian, common custom all nations in 
 general ; and if even nature itself instructs the brutes to 
 defend their bodies, limbs, and lives when attacked, by 
 all possible methods ; you cannot pronounce this action 
 criminal, without determining at the same time that who- 
 ever falls into the hands of a highwayman, must of neces- 
 sity perish either by his sword or your decisions. Had 
 Milo been of this opinion, he would certainly have cho- 
 sen to fall by the hand of Clodius, who had more than 
 once before this made an attempt upon his life, rather 
 than be executed by your order, because he had not 
 tamely yielded himself a victim to his rage. But if none 
 of you are of this opinion, the proper question is, not 
 whether Clodius was killed ? for that we grant : but 
 whether justly or unjustly ; an inquiry of which many 
 precedents are to be found. 
 
 4. Seeing then that the soul has many different facul- 
 ties, or in other words, many different ways of acting ; 
 that it can be intensely pleased or made happv by all 
 
 16 
 
182 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 9. 
 
 these different faculties or ways of acting ; that it may be 
 endowed with several latent faculties, which it is not at 
 present in a condition to exert ; that we cannot believe 
 the soul is endowed with any faculty which is of no use to 
 it ; that whenever any one of these faculties is transcend- 
 ency pleased, the soul is in a state of happiness ; and in 
 the last place, considering that the happiness of another 
 world is to be the happiness of the whole man ; who can 
 question but that there is an infinite variety in those pleas- 
 ures we are speaking of; and thpt this fulness of joy will 
 be made up of all those pleasures which the nature of the 
 soul is capable of receiving ? 
 
 5. When the gay and smiling aspect of things has be- 
 gun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus thought- 
 lessly unguarded ; when kind and caressing looks of eve- 
 ry object without, that can flatter his senses, has conspired 
 with the enemy within, to betray him and put him off his 
 defence ; when music likewise hath lent her aid, and tri- 
 ed her power upon the passions ; when the voice of sing- 
 ing 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 
 k is! 
 
 6. Beside the ignorance of masters who teach the 
 .first rudiments of reading, and the want of skill, or negli- 
 gence in that article, of those who teach the learned lan- 
 guages ; beside the erroneous manner, which the untu- 
 tored pupils fall into, through the want of early attention 
 in masters, to correct small faults in the beginning, which 
 
Ex. 9.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 183 
 
 increase and gain strength with years ; beside bad habits 
 contracted from imitation of particular persons, or the 
 contagion of example, from a general prevalence, of a 
 certain tone or chant in* reading or reciting, peculiar to 
 each school, and regularly transmitted from one genera- 
 tion of boys to another : beside all these, which are fruit- 
 ful sources of vicious elocution, there is one fundamental 
 error, in the method universally used in teaching to read, 
 which at first gives a wrong bias, and leads us ever after 
 blindfold from the right path, under the guidance of a 
 false rule. 
 
 7. The bounding of Satan over the walls of paradise, 
 his sitting in the shape of a cormorant upon the tree of 
 life, which stood in the centre of it, and overtopped all 
 the other trees in the garden ; his alighting among the 
 herd of animals, which are so beautifully represented as 
 playing about Adam and E ve ; together with his trans- 
 forming himself into different shapes, in order to hear then- 
 conversation, are circumstances, that give an agreeable 
 surprise to the reader, and are devised with great art, to 
 connect that series of adventures, in which the poet has 
 engaged this artifice of fraud. 
 
 8. To find the nearest way from truth to truth ; or 
 from purpose to effect : not to use more instruments where 
 fewer will be sufficient ; not to move by wheels and lev- 
 ers, what will give way to the naked hand, is the great 
 proof of a healthful and vigorous mind, neither feeble with 
 helpless ignorance nor overburdened with unwieldy knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 9. A guilty or a discontented mind, a mind, ruffled 
 by ill fortune, disconcerted by its own passions, soured 
 
184 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 9. 
 
 by neglect, or fretting at disappointments, hath not leisure 
 to attend to the necessity or reasonableness of a kindness 
 desired, nor a taste for those pleasures which wait on be- 
 neficence, which demand a calm and unpolluted heart to 
 relish them. 
 
 10. "I perfectly remember, that when Calidius prose- 
 cuted Q. Gallius for an attempt to poison him, and pre- 
 tended that he had the plainest proofs of it, and eeuld 
 produce many letters, witnesses, informations, and other 
 evidences to put the truth of his charge beyond a doubt, 
 interspersing many sensible and ingenious remarks on the 
 nature of the crime ; I remember," says Cicero, " that 
 when it came to my turn to reply to him, after urging ev- 
 ery argument which the case itself suggested, I insisted 
 upon it as a material circumstance in favour of my client, 
 that the prosecutor, while he charged him with a design 
 against his life, and assured us that he had the most in- 
 dubitable proofs of it then in his hands, related his story 
 with as much ease, and as much calmness and indiffer- 
 ence, as if nothing had happened." — " Would it have 
 been possible," exclaimed Cicero, (addressing himself to 
 Calidius,) " that you should speak with this air of uncon- 
 cern, unless the charge was purely an invention of your 
 own ? — and, above all, that you, whose eloquence has of- 
 ten vindicated the wrongs of other people with so much 
 spirit, should speak so coolly of a crime which threaten- 
 ed your life ?" 
 
 11. France and England may each of them have 
 some reason to dread the increase of the naval and mili- 
 tary power of the other ; but for either of them to en- 
 vy the internal happiness and prosperity of the other, 
 
Ex. 9.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 1S5 
 
 the cultivation of its lands, the advancement of its man- 
 ufactures, the increase of its commerce, the security and 
 number of its ports and harbors, its proficiency in all the 
 liberal arts and sciences, is surely beneath the dignity of 
 two such great nations. 
 
 12. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own 
 hearts and characters, to restrain every irregular inclina- 
 tion, — to subdue every rebellious passion, — to purify the 
 motives of our conduct, — to form ourselves to that tem- 
 perance which no pleasure, can seduce, — to that meek- 
 ness 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 performed without the 
 utmost diligence and care. 
 
 13. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a mountain, 
 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 num- 
 bers, 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 w T e and our companions re- 
 gard as having no peculiar relation to either of us. 
 
 14. Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, 
 Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, 
 View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 
 And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; 
 Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 
 And without sneering teach the rest to sneer ; 
 Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 
 16* 
 
186 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 9. 
 
 Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike ; 
 
 Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, 
 
 A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend; 
 
 Dreading even fools, by Flatterers besieg'd, 
 
 And so obliging, that he ne'er oblfg'd ; 
 
 Like Cato, give his little senate laws, 
 
 And sit attentive to his own applause ; 
 
 While Wits and Templars every sentence raise, 
 
 And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 
 
 Who but must laugh, if such a man there be ? 
 
 Who would not weep, if \Atticus were he ! 
 
 15. For these reasons, the senate and people of A'th- 
 ens, (with due veneration to the gods and heroes, and 
 guardians of the Athenian city and territory, whose aid 
 they now implore ; and with due attention to the virtue 
 of their ancestors, to whom the general liberty of Greece 
 was ever dearer than the particular interest of their own 
 state) have resolved that a fleet of two hundred vessels 
 shall be sent to sea, the admiral to cruise within the 
 streights of Thermopylae. 
 
 As to my own abilities in speaking (for I shall admit 
 this charge, although experience hath convinced me, that 
 what is called the power of eloquence depends for the 
 most part upon the hearers, and that the characters of 
 public speakers are determined by that degree of favour 
 which you vouchsafe to each ;) if long practice, I say, 
 hath given me any proficiency in speaking, you have ever 
 found it devoted to my country.* 
 
 * I have not thought it necessary to give examples of the cases 
 in which emphasis requires the falling slide at the close of a pa- 
 renthesis. 
 
Ex.10.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 1ST 
 
 Of the various exceptions which fall under the rule of suspend- 
 ing inflection, the only one which needs additional exemplification, 
 is that where emphasis requires the intensive falling slide, to ex- 
 press the true sense. See p. 53, hottom. In some cases of this 
 sort, the omission of the falling slide only weakens the meaning ; 
 in others it subverts it. 
 
 1. If the population of this country were to remain 
 stationary, a great increase of effort would be necessary 
 to supply each family with a Bible ; how much more when 
 this population is increasing every day. 
 
 2. The man who cherishes a strong ambition for pre- 
 ferment, if he does not fall into adulation and servility, is 
 in danger of losing all manly independence. 
 
 3. For if the mighty works which have been done in 
 thee had been done in Sodom,* it would have remained 
 unto this day. 
 
 10.] Page 54. The rising slide is used to express ten- 
 der emotion. 
 1. And when Joseph came home, they brought him 
 the present which was in their hand into the house, and 
 
 bowed themselves to him to the earth. — And he asked 
 
 « 
 
 them of their welfare, and said, Is your father well, the 
 old man of whom ye spake ? Is he yet alive ? — And 
 they answered, thy servant our father is in good health, 
 he is yet alive : and they bowed down their heads, and 
 made obeisance. — And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his 
 brother Benjamin, his mother's son, and said, Is this your 
 younger brother, of whom ye spake unto me ! And he 
 said, God be gracious unto thee, my" son. — And Joseph 
 made haste ; for his bowels did yearn upon his brother : 
 
 * Even in Sodom, is the paraphrase of this emphasis, and so 
 in the two preceding examples. 
 
188 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 10. 
 
 and he sought where to weep ; and he entered into his 
 chamber, and wept there. 
 
 2. Methinks I see a fair and lovely child, 
 Sitting compos'd upon his mother's knee, 
 And reading with a low and lisping voice 
 
 Some passage from the Sabbath ;* while the tears 
 
 Stand in his little eyes so softly blue, 
 
 Till, quite o'ercome with pity, his white arms 
 
 He twines around her neck, and hides his sighs 
 
 Most infantine, within her gladden'd breast, 
 
 Like a sweet lamb, half sportive, half afraid, 
 
 Nestling one moment 'neath its bleating dam. 
 
 And now the happy mother kisses oft 
 
 The tender-hearted child, lays down the book, 
 
 And asks him if he doth remember still 
 
 A stranger who once gave him, long ago, 
 
 A parting kiss, and blest his laughing eyes ! 
 
 His sobs speak fond remembrance, and he weeps 
 
 To think so kind and good a man should die. 
 
 3. Ye who have anxiously and fondly watched 
 "Beside a fading friend, unconscious still 
 
 The cheek's bright crimson, lovely to the view, 
 Like nightshade with unwholesome beauty bloomed, 
 And that the sufferer's bright dilated eye, 
 Like mouldering wood, owes to decay alone 
 Its wondrous lustre : — ye who still have hoped, 
 Even in death's dread presence, but at length 
 Have heard the summons, (O heart-freezing call !) 
 To pay the last sad duties, and to hear 
 Upon the silent dwelling's narrow lid 
 
 * Sabbath, — a poem. 
 
Ex. 11, 12.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 189 
 
 The first earth thrown, (sound deadliest to the soul ! — 
 
 For, strange delusion ! then, and then alone, 
 
 Hope seems for ever fled, and the dread pang 
 
 Of final separation to begfn) — 
 
 Ye who have felt all this — O pay my verse 
 
 The mournful meed of sympathy, and own, 
 
 Own with a sigh, the sombre picture's just. 
 
 11.] Page 55. This requires no additional illustration ; 
 for unless emphasis forbids it, every good reader has 
 so much regard to harmony, as to use the rising slide 
 at the pause before the cadence. 
 
 12.] Page 56. The indirect question and its answer 
 have the falling inflection. 
 
 The interrogative mark is here inverted, to render it significant 
 of its office, in distinction from the direct question which turns the 
 voice upward. The reason of this is so obvious, that I trust it will 
 not be regarded, in a work like this, as an affectation of singular- 
 ity in trifles. 
 
 1. The governor answered and said unto them, 
 Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you d * 
 They said, Barabbas. Pilate saith unto them, What 
 shall I do then with Jesus, which is called Christ j They 
 all say unto him, Let him be crucified. And the gover- 
 nor said, Why ; what evil hath he done <: But they cri- 
 ed out the more saying, Let him be crucified. 
 
 2. Where now is the splendid robe of the consulate j 
 Where are the brilliant torches ^ Where are the ap- 
 plauses and dances, the feasts and entertainments j 
 Where are the coronets and canopies j Where the huz- 
 zas of the city, the compliments of the circus, and the 
 
190 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 21. 
 
 flattering acclaimations of the spectators <; All these have 
 perished. 
 
 3. I hold it to be an unquestionable position, that they 
 who duly appreciate the blessings of liberty, revolt as much 
 from the idea of exercising, as from that of enduring, op- 
 pression. How far this was the case with the Romans, 
 you may inquire of those nations that surrounded them. 
 Ask them, ' What insolent guard paraded before their 
 gates, and invested their strong holds f They will an- 
 swer, * A Roman legionary.' Demand of them, ' What 
 greedy extortioner fattened by their poverty, and clothed 
 himself by their nakedness £ They will inform you, ' A 
 Roman Quaestor.' Inquire of them, 'What imperious 
 stranger issued to them his mandates of imprisonment or 
 confiscation, of banishment or death £ They will reply 
 to you, ' A Roman Consul.' Question them, ' What 
 haughty conqueror led through his city, their nobles and 
 kings in chains; and exhibited their countrymen, by 
 thousands, in gladiators' shows for the amusement of his fel- 
 low citizens j? They will tell you, * A Roman General.' 
 Require of them, 'What tyrants imposed the heaviest 
 yoke i — enforced the most rigorous exactions «;— inflicted 
 the most savage punishments, and showed the greatest 
 gust for blood and torture j' They will exclaim to you, 
 The Roman people.' 
 
 4. Let us now consider the principal point, whether 
 the place where they encountered was most favourable to 
 Milo, or to Clodius. Were the affair to be represented 
 only by painting, instead of being expressed by words, it 
 would even then clearly appear which was the traitor, 
 and which was free from all mischievous designs ; when 
 
Ex. 12.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 191 
 
 the one was sitting in his chariot muffled up in his cloak, 
 and his wife along with him. Which of these circum- 
 stances was not a very great incumbrance <; the dress, the 
 chariot, or the companion $ How could he be worse 
 equipped for an engagement, when he was wrapt up in a 
 cloak, embarrassed with a chariot and almost fettered by 
 his wife <: Observe the other now, in the first place, sal- 
 lying out on a sudden from his seat ; for what reason d * 
 — in the evening ; what urged him j — late ; to what pur- 
 pose, especially at that season J — He calls at Pompey's 
 seat ; with what view j To see Pompey ? He knew he 
 was at 'AJsium. — To see his house ? He had been in it 
 a thousand times — What then could be the reason of this 
 loitering and shifting about J He wanted to be upon the 
 spot when Milo came up. 
 
 5. Wherefore cease we then ,* 
 Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, 
 Reserved, and destin'd, to eternal woe ; 
 Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 
 What can we suffer worse <s Is this then worst, 
 Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? 
 What, when we fled amain, pursued and struck 
 With Heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought 
 The deep to shelter us f this Hell then seem'd 
 A refuge from those wounds : or when we lay 
 Chain'd on the burning lake d * that sure was worse 
 What, if the breath, that kindled those grim fires, 
 Awak'd, should blow them into sev'nfold rage, 
 And plunge us in the flames <; or from above 
 Should intermitted vengeance arm again 
 
i 
 
 192 
 
 EXERCISES OF INFLECTION. [Ex. 12. 
 
 His red right-hand to plague us j what if all 
 Her stores were open'd, and this firmament 
 Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 
 Impendent horrors, threat'ning hideous fall 
 One day upon our heads; while we perhaps, 
 Designing or exhorting glorious war, 
 Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurl'd, 
 Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey 
 Of wracking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk 
 Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains ; 
 There to converse with everlasting groans, 
 Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd, 
 Ages of hopeless end ! This would be worse. 
 
 6. But, first, whom shall we send 
 In search of this new world <; whom shall we find 
 Sufficient <; who shall tempt with wand'ring feet 
 The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, 
 And through the palpable obscure find out 
 His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight, 
 Upborne with indefatigable wings, 
 Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 
 The happy isle j what strength, what art, can then 
 Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 
 Through the strict senteries and stations thick 
 Of 'Angels watching rounds Here he had need 
 All circumspection, and we now no less 
 Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom we send 
 The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. 
 
 
Ex.13.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 193 
 
 13.] Page 57. Language of authority and of sur- 
 prise commonly requires the falling inflection. De- 
 nunciation, reprehension fyc. come under this head. 
 
 1. Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, 
 and be wise : — which having no guide, overseer, or rul- 
 er, — provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth 
 her food in the harvest. — How long wilt thou sleep, O 
 sluggard ? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep ?— 
 Yet a little sleep, a little slumber,: a little folding of the 
 hands to sleep : — So shall thy poverty come as one that 
 travelleth, and thy want as an armed man. 
 
 2. And when the king came in to see the guests, he 
 saw there a man that had not on a wedding-garment : — 
 And he saith unto him, friend, how earnest thou in hither, 
 not having a wedding-garment ? And he was speechless. 
 — Then said the king to the servants, bind him hand and 
 foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer dark- 
 ness : there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 3. Then he which had received the one talent came, 
 and said, Lord, I knew thee that thou art a hard man, 
 reaping where thou hast not sown, and gathering where 
 thou hast not strewed : — And I was afraid, and went 
 and hid thy talent in the earth : lo there thou hast that is 
 thine. — His lord answered and said unto him, thou wick- 
 ed and slothful servant,~thou knewest that I reap where 
 I sowed not,* and gather where I have not strewed : — 
 Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the 
 
 * This clause uttered with a high note and the falling slide, 
 expresses censure better with the common punctuation, than if it 
 were marked with the interrogation. 
 
 17 
 
194 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 13. 
 
 exchangers, and then at my coming I should have re- 
 ceived mine own with usury. — Take therefore the talent 
 from him, and give it unto him which hath ten talfcnts. — 
 And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness : 
 there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 4. Then began he to upbraid the cities wherein most 
 of his mighty works were done, because they repented 
 not. — Wo unto thee, Chorazin ! wo unto thee, Beth- 
 saida ! for if the mighty works which were done in you 
 had been done in Ty re and Sidon, they would have re- 
 pented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. — But I say un- 
 to you, It shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at 
 the day of judgment, than for you. — And thou, Caperna- 
 um, which • art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought 
 down to hell : for if the mighty works which have been 
 done in thee, had been done in Sodom, it would have re- 
 mained until this day. — But I say unto you, That it shall 
 be more tolerable for the land of Sodom, in the day oi* 
 judgment, than for thee. 
 
 5. Such, Sir, was once the disposition of a people, 
 who now surround your throne with reproaches and com- 
 plaints. Do justice to yourself. Banish from your mind 
 those unworthy opinions, with which some interested per- 
 sons have laboured to possess you. Distrust the men 
 who tell you that the English are naturally light and in- 
 constant ; that they complain without a cause. With- 
 draw your confidence equally from all parties ; from min- 
 isters, favourites, and relations ; and let there be one mo- 
 ment in your life, in which you have consulted your own 
 understanding. 
 
Ex.13.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 195 
 
 6. You have done that, you should be sorry for. 
 There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
 For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, 
 That they pass by me, as the idle wind, 
 Which I respect not. I did send to you 
 For certain sums of gold which you denied me ; — 
 For I can raise no money by vile means ; 
 
 - 1 had rather coin my heart, 
 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, 
 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 
 To you for gold to pay my legions, 
 
 Which you denied me : Was that done like Cassius ? 
 
 Should / have answer'd Caius Cassius so ? 
 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends. 
 
 Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
 
 Dash him to pieces ! 
 
 7. The war, that for a space did fail, 
 Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 
 
 And — Stanley ! was the cry ; — 
 A light on Marmion's visage spread, 
 
 And fired his glazing eye : 
 With dying hand, above'his head 
 He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 
 And shouted " Victory ! 
 Charge, Chester, charge ! 'On, Stanley, on !" 
 Were the last words of Marmion ! 
 
 8. So judge thou still,, presumptuous, till the wrath, 
 
196 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 13. 
 
 Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight, 
 Sev'nfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell, 
 Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 
 Can equal anger infinite provok'd. 
 But wherefore thou alone ? wherefore with thee 
 Came not all Hell broke loose ? is pain to them 
 Less pain, less to be fled ? or thou than they 
 Less hardy to endure? Courageous Chief! 
 The first in flight from pain, hadst thou alleged 
 To thy deserted host this cause of flight, 
 Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. 
 
 9. To whom the warrior Angel soon reply'd. 
 To say and straight unsay, pretending first 
 Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 
 Argues no leader but a liar trac'd, 
 Satan, and couldst thou faithful add ? O name^ 
 O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd ! 
 Faithful to whom ? to thy rebellious crew ? 
 Army of Fiends, fit body to fit head. 
 Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, 
 Your military obedience, to dissolve 
 Allegiance to th' acknowledg'd Pow'r supreme ? 
 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 
 HeavVs awful Monarch ? wherefore, but in hope 
 To dispossess him, and thyself to reign ; 
 But mark what I arreed thee now- — Avaunt : 
 Fly thither whence thou fled'st : if from this hour 
 Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, 
 Back to th' infernal pit I drag thee chain'd, 
 
Ex. 13.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 197 
 
 And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn 
 The facile gates of Hell too slightly barr'd. 
 
 Apostrophe and exclamation as well as the imperative mode, 
 when accompanied by emphasis, incline the voice to the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 10. Oh ! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, 
 The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes ! 
 Yet half I hear the panting spirit sigh, 
 It is a dread and awful thing to die ! 
 Mysterious worlds ! untravell'd by the sun, 
 Where Time's far wandering tide has never run, 
 From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, 
 A warning comes, unheard by other ears — 
 'Tis heaven's commanding trumpet, long and -loud, 
 Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud ! 
 
 Daughter of Faith, awake ! arise ! illume 
 The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb ! 
 Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll 
 Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul ! 
 Ffy, like the moon-eyed herald of dismay, 
 Chased on his night-steed by the star of day ! 
 The strife is o'er ! — the pangs of nature close, 
 And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes ! 
 Hark ! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze, 
 The noon of heaven undazzled by the blaze, 
 On heavenly winds that waft her to the sky, 
 Float the sweet tones of star-born melody; 
 Wild as the hallow'd anthem sent to hail 
 Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale, 
 When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still 
 Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion hill ! 
 17* 
 
198 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 13. 
 
 1 1 . Piety has found 
 
 Friends in the friends of science, and true prayer 
 Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
 Such was thy wisdom, Newton, child-like sage I 
 Sagacious reader of the Works of God, 
 And in his Word sagacious. Such too thine, 
 Milton, whose genius had angelic wings, 
 And fed on manna. And such thine, in whom 
 Our British Themis gloried with just cause, 
 Immortal Hale I for deep discernment prais'd, 
 And sound integrity not more, than fam'd 
 For sanctity of manners undefil'd. 
 
 12. These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
 Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! 
 Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heav'ns 
 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. 
 Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
 'Angels ; for ye behold him, and with songs 
 And choral symphonies, day without night, 
 • Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven, 
 On earth, join all ye creatures to extol 
 Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
 Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 
 If better thou belong not to the dawn, 
 Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn 
 With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy spheirtf, 
 While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 
 
 
Ex. 14.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 199 
 
 Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, 
 
 Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 
 
 In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, 
 
 And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. 
 
 Moon, that now meets the orient Sun, now fly'st, 
 
 With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 
 
 And ye five other wand'ring Fires that move 
 
 In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
 
 His praise, who out of darkness cail'd up light. 
 
 'Air, and ye 'Elements, the eldest birth 
 
 Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 
 
 Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix, 
 
 And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change 
 
 Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
 
 His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 
 
 Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye Pines, 
 
 With every plant, in sign of worship wave. 
 
 Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, 
 
 Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. 
 
 Join voices all, ye living Souls ; ye Birds, 
 
 That singing up to Heav'n gate ascend, 
 
 Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. 
 
 14.] Page 60. Emphatic succession of particulars re- 
 quires the falling slide. 
 
 Note 3. page 61. should be examined before reading this class 
 of Exercises. 
 
 He answered and said unto them, He that soweth the 
 good seed is the Son of man ; — the field is the world ; 
 the good seed are the children of the kingdom ; but the 
 tares are the children of the wicked one ; — the enemy 
 
200 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 14. 
 
 that sowed them is the devil ; the harvest is the end of 
 the world ; and the reapers are the angels. 
 
 2. For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wis- 
 dom ; to another, the word of knowledge by the same 
 Spirit ; — to another, faith by the same Spirit ; to anoth- 
 er, the gifts of healing by the same Spirit ; — to another ? 
 the working of miracles ; to another, prophecy ; to an- 
 other, discerning of spirits ; to another, divers kinds of 
 tongues ; to another, the interpretation of tongues. 
 
 3. Rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing : — in eve- 
 ry thing give thanks : for this is the will of God in Christ 
 Jesus concerning you. — Quench not the Spirit : — Despise 
 not prophesyings. — Prove all things ; hold fast that which 
 is good. 
 
 4. As virtue is the most reasonable and genuine 
 source of honour, we generally find in titles, an intima- 
 tion of some particular merit, that should recommend men 
 to the high stations which they possess. Holiness is as- 
 cribed to the Pope ; majesty to kings ; serenity, or mild- 
 ness of temper, to princes; excellence, or perfection, to 
 ambassadors; grace to archbishops; honour to peers; 
 worship, or venerable behaviour, to magistrates ; and 
 reverence, which is of the same import as the former, to 
 the inferior clergy. 
 
 5. It pleases me to think that I, who know so small a 
 portion of the works of the Creator, and with slow and 
 painful steps, creep up and down on the surface of this 
 globe, shall, ere long, shoot away with the swiftness of 
 imagination ; trace out the hidden springs of nature's op- 
 erations ; be able to keep pace with the heavenly bodies 
 in the rapidity of their career ; be a spectator of the long 
 
Ex. 14.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 201 
 
 chain of events in the natural and moral worlds; visit the 
 several apartments of creation ; know how they are fur- 
 nished and how inhabited; comprehend the order and 
 measure, the magnitude and distances of those orbs, 
 which, to us, seem disposed without any regular design, 
 and set all in the same circle ; observe the dependence 
 of the parts of each s'ystem ; and (if our minds are big 
 enough) grasp the theory of the several systems upon 
 one another, from whence results the harmony of the 
 universe. 
 
 6. He who cannot persuade himself to withdraw from 
 society, must be content to pay a tribute of his time to a 
 multitude of tyrants; to the loiterer, who makes appoint- 
 ments he never keeps — -to the consuiter, who asks advice 
 he never takes — to the boaster, who blusters only to be 
 praised — to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied 
 — to the projector, whose happiness is only to entertain 
 his friends with expectations, which all but himself know 
 to be vain — to the economist, who tells of bargains and 
 settlements — to the politician, who predicts the fate of 
 battles and breach of alliances — to the usurer, who com- 
 pares the different funds — and to the talker, who talks 
 only because he loves talking. 
 
 7. That a man, to whom he was, in great measure, be- 
 holden for his crown, and even for his life ; a man to 
 whom, by every honour and favour, he had endeavour- 
 ed to express his gratitude ; whose brother, the earl of 
 Derby, was his own father-in-law ; to whom he had even 
 committed the trust of his person, by creating him lord 
 chamberlain ; that a man, enjoying his full confidence 
 and affection ; not actuated by any motive of discontent 
 
202 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 14. 
 
 or apprehension ; that this man should engage in a con- 
 spiracy against him, he deemed absolutely false and in- 
 credible. 
 
 8. I would fain ask one of those bigoted infidels, sup- 
 posing all the great points of atheism as the casualor eter- 
 nal formation of the world, the materiality of a thinking 
 substance, the mortality of the soul, the fortuitous organi- 
 zation of the body, the motions and gravitation of matter, 
 with the like particulars, were laid together, and formed 
 into a kind of creed, according to the opinions of the most 
 celebrated atheists ; I say, supposing such a creed as this 
 were formed, and imposed upon any one people in the 
 world, whether it would not require an infinitely greater 
 measure of faith than any set of' articles which they so 
 violently oppose. 
 
 9. 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 5 though the yesty waves 
 Confound and swallow navigation up; 
 Though bladed-corn be lodg'd and trees blown down ; 
 Though castles topple on their warder's heads ; 
 Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
 Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure 
 Of nature's germins tumble altogether, 
 Ev'n till destruction sicken, answer me 
 To what I ask you. 
 
 This' last example is the one which was promised, at page 40, 
 of the Analysis, to be inserted in the Exercises, as exhibiting- by 
 the notation something of Garrick's manner in pronouncing; the pas- 
 sage. To make this more intelligible I add here Walker's remarks 
 accompanying this example, which were alluded to at page 40. 
 
Ex. 15.] EXERCISES' ON INFLECTION. 203 
 
 " By placing the falling- inflection, without dropping the voice, 
 on each particular, and giving this inflection a degree of emphasis, 
 increasing from the first member to the sixth, we shall find the 
 whole climax wonderfully enforced and diversified : this was the 
 method approved and practised by the inimitable Mr. Garrick ; and 
 though it is possible that a very good actor may vary in some par- 
 ticulars from this rule, and yet pronounce the whole agreeably, it 
 may with confidence be asserted that no actor can pronounce this 
 passage to so much advantage as by adopting the inflections laid 
 down in this rule. 1 ' 
 
 15.] Page 62. Emphatic repetition requires the falling 
 inflection ; though the principle of the suspending 
 slide, or of the interrogative, may form an exception* 
 
 1. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took 
 the knife to slay his son. — And the angel of the Lord 
 called unto him out of heaven, and said, 'Abraham, "Abra- 
 ham. And he said, Here am I. 
 
 2. And the king was much moved, and went up to 
 the chamber over the gate, and wept : and as he went, 
 thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Ab- 
 salom ! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my 
 son, my son ! 
 
 3. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the proph- 
 ets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how of- 
 ten would I have gathered thy children together, even as 
 a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye 
 would not ! 
 
 4. But the subject is too awful for irony. I will 
 speak plainly and directly. Newton was a Christian ! 
 Newton, whose mind burst forth from the fetters cast by 
 nature upon our finite conceptions — Newton, whose sci- 
 ence was truth, and the foundation of whose knowledge 
 of it was philosophy : not those visionary and arrogant 
 
204 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 15. 
 
 presumptions, which too often usurp its name, but philos- 
 ophy resting upon the basis of mathematics, which, like 
 figures, cannot lie — Ndwton, who carried the line and 
 rule to the utmost barriers of creation, and explored the 
 principles by which, no doubt, all created matter is held 
 together and exists. 
 
 5. To die, they say, is noble — as a soldier — 
 But with such guides, to point th' unerring road, 
 Such able guides, such arms and discipline 
 As I have had, my soul would sorely feel 
 The dreadful pang which keen reflections give, 
 Should she in death's dark porch, while life was ebbing.. 
 Receive the judgment, and this vile reproach : — 
 " Long hast thou wander'd in a stranger's land, 
 A stranger to thyself and to thy God ; 
 The heavenly hills were oft within thy view, 
 And oft the shepherd call'd thee to his flock, 
 And call'd in vain. — A thousand monitors 
 Bade thee return and walk in wisdom's ways. 
 The seasons, as they roll'd, bade thee return ; 
 The glorious sun in his diurnal round 
 Beheld thy wandering, and bade thee return j 
 The night, an emblem of the night, of death, 
 Bade thee return ; the rising mounds, 
 Which told the traveller where the dead repose 
 In tenements of clay, bade thee return ; 
 And at thy father's grave, the filial tear, 
 Which dear remembrance gave, bade thee return. 
 And dwell in Virtue's tents, on Zion's hill ! 
 — Here thy career be stay'd, rebellious man ! 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 205 
 
 Long hast thou liv'd a cumberer of the ground. 
 Millions are shipwreck'd on life's stormy coast, 
 With all their charts on board, and powerful aid, 
 Because their lofty pride disdain'd to learn 
 Th' instructions of a pilot, and a God." 
 
 16, 17, 18.] Page 63 to 66. On Cadence, Circumflex, 
 and Accent, no additional illustrations seem to be re- 
 quired in the Exercises. 
 
 19, 20, 21, 22.] Page 71 to 80. It was necessary in the 
 Analysis to examine and exemplify at some length, the 
 difference between emphatic stress, and emphatic inflec- 
 tion, and also between absolute and relative stress. 
 The examples, however, illustrating these distinctions, 
 must generally be taken from single sentences and clau- 
 ses. But as I wish here to introduce such passages 
 as have considerable length, I have concluded to ar- 
 range them all under the general head of Emphasis, 
 leaving the reader to class particular instances of stress 
 and inflection, according to the principles laid down in 
 the Analysis. 
 
 1. He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he 
 that formed the eye, shall he not see ? — he that chastis- 
 eth the heathen, shall not he correct !■ he that teacheth 
 -man knowledge, shall not he know ? 
 
 2. The queen of the south shall rise up in the judg- 
 ment with the men of this generation, and condemn them: 
 for she came from the utmost parts of the earth, to hear 
 the wisdom of Sdlomon ; and behold, a greater than Sol- 
 omon is here. — the men of Nineveh shall rise up in the 
 
 18 
 
206 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 19-22, 
 
 judgment with this generation, and shall condemn it : for 
 they repented at the preaching of Jdnas ; and behold, a 
 greater than Jonas is here. 
 
 3. But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, This 
 fellow doth not cast out devils, but by Beelzebub the prince 
 of the devils. — And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said 
 unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself, is brought 
 to desolation ; and every city or house divided against it- 
 self, shall not stand. — And if Satan cast out Satan, he is 
 divided against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand? 
 And if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, by whom do your 
 children cast them out ? therefore they shall be your 
 judges. But if 1 cast out devils by the Spirit of God, 
 then the kingdom of God is come unto you. — Or else, 
 how can one enter into a strong man's house, and spoil 
 his goods, except he first bind the strong man ? and then 
 he will spoil his house. 
 
 4. And behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempt- 
 ed him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal 
 life ? — He said unto him, What is written in the law ? 
 how readest thou ? — -And he answering said, Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
 soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind ; 
 and thy neighbour as thyself. — And he said unto him, 
 Thou hast answered right : this do, and thou shalt live. 
 — But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And 
 who is my neighbour ? — And Jesus answering, said, A 
 certain man. went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and 
 fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and 
 wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. — And 
 by chance there came down a certain priest that way ; 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 207 
 
 and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. — 
 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came 
 and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. — But 
 a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was : 
 and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, — and 
 wtnt to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and 
 wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to 
 an inn, and took care of him. — And on the morrow, when 
 he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to 
 the host, and said unto him, Take care of him : and what- 
 soever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will re- 
 pay thee. — Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was 
 neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves ?— And he 
 said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus 
 unto him, Go, and do thou likewise. 
 
 5. As to those public works, so much the object of 
 your ridicule, they, undoubtedly, demand a due share of 
 honour and applause ; but I rate them far beneath the 
 great merit of my administration. It is not with stones 
 nor bricks that 'J have fortified the city. It is not from 
 works like these that 'I derive my reputation. Would 
 you know my' methods of fortifying ? Examine, and you 
 will find them in the arms, the towns, the territories, the 
 harbours I have secured ; the navies, the troops, the ar- 
 mies I have raised. 
 
 6. For if you now pronounce, that, as my public 
 conduct hath not been right, Ctesiphoh must stand con- 
 demned, it must be thought that yourselves have acted 
 wrong, not that you owe your present state to the caprice 
 of fortune. But it cannot be. Nd, my countrymen ! It 
 cannot be you have acted wrong, in encountering danger 
 
208 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 bravely, for the liberty and safety of all Greece. Nd ! 
 by those generous souls of ancient times, who were ex- 
 posed at Marathon ! By those who stood arrayed at 
 Platla ! By those who encountered the Persian fleet at 
 Salamis ! who fought at Artemisium ! By all those il- 
 lustrious sons of Athens, whose remains lie deposited in 
 the public monuments! y Jlll of whom received the same 
 honourable interment from their country : Not those only 
 who prev tiled, not those only who were victorious. And 
 with reason. What was the part of gallant men they 
 all performed ; their success was such as the supreme 
 director of the world dispensed to each. 
 
 7. Like other tyrants, death delights to smite, 
 
 What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of pow'r, 
 
 And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, 
 
 To bid the wretch survive the fdrtunate; 
 5 The feeble wrap the athUtic in his shroud ; 
 
 And weeping fathers build their children's tomb : 
 
 Me thine, Narcissa ! — What though short thy date ? 
 
 Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures. 
 
 That life is long, which answers life's great end. 
 10 The tree that bears no fruit, deserves no name-, 
 
 The man of wisdom is the man of years. 
 
 Narcissa's youth has lecturM me thus far. 
 
 And can her gaiety give counsel too ? 
 
 That, like the Jews fam'd oracle of gems, 
 15 Sparkles instruction; such as throws new light, 
 
 And opens more the character of death ; 
 
 111 known to thee, Lorenzo ! This thy vaunt : 
 
 " Give death his due, the wrhched, and the bid ; 
 
 " Let him not violate kind nature 's laws, 
 
Ex; 19-22.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 209 
 
 " But own man born to live as well as die" 
 Wretched and old thou giv'st him ; young and gay- 
 He t&hes ; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 
 
 * Fortune, with youth and gaiety, conspir'd 
 
 5 To weave a triple wreath of happiness 
 (If happiness on earth) to crown her brow, 
 And could death charge through such a shining shield ? 
 
 That shining shield invites the tyrant's spear, 
 As if to damp our elevated aims, 
 
 10 And strongly preach humility to man. 
 O how portentous is prosperity ! 
 How, comet-like, it threatens, while it shines ! 
 Few years but yield us proof of death's ambition, 
 To cull his victims from the fairest fold, 
 
 15 And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. 
 When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er 
 With recent honours, bloom'd with ev'ry bliss, 
 Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
 The gaudy centre, of the public eye, 
 
 20 When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 
 Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 
 How often have I seen him drbfid at once, 
 Our morning's envy ! and our ev'ning's sigh ! 
 Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; ■ 
 
 25 A blow, which, while it executes, alarms; 
 And startles thousands with a single fall. 
 ( ) As when some stately growth of oak, or pine, 
 Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade, 
 The sun's defiance, and the flock's defence ; 
 
 * In this place and in many others, the connexion of the author is broken i n the 
 selections, without notice. 
 
 18* 
 
210 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 ■ • j — — 
 
 By the strong strokes of Wring hinds subdu'd, 
 
 Loud groans her last, and, rushing from her height, 
 
 In cumbrous ruin,, thunders to the ground : 
 
 The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 
 
 5 And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound.* 
 
 Young. 
 
 8. Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, 
 
 Our boast but ill deserve. 
 
 If these alone 
 
 Assist our flight fame 1 s flight is glory's fall. 
 10 Uear^-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high. 
 
 Our height is but the gibbet of our name. 
 
 A celebrated wretch when I behold, 
 
 When I behold a genius bright, and base, 
 
 Of tow'ring talents, and terrestrial afms ; 
 15 Methinks I see, as thrown from her high sphere, 
 
 The glorious fragments of a soul immortal, 
 
 With rubbish mixt, and glittering in the dust. 
 
 Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight, 
 
 At once compassion soft, and envy, rise 
 
 20 But wherefore envy ? Talents angel-bright, 
 
 If wanting worth, are shining instruments 
 
 In false ambition's hand, to finish faults 
 
 Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 
 
 Great ill is in achievement of great pbw'rs. 
 25 Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 
 
 Means have no merit, if our end amiss. 
 
 Hearts are proprietors of all applause. 
 
 Right ends, and means, make wisdom: Worldly-wise 
 
 Is but half-witted, at its highest praise. 
 
 * In all the following- Exercises, the sign of transition and other 
 marks of modulation are occasionally used. 
 
 i 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 211 
 
 Let genius then despair to make thee great 5 
 
 Nor flatter station : What is station high ? 
 
 'Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts and begs 5 
 
 It begs an alms of homage from the throng, 
 5 And oft the throng denies its charity. 
 
 Monarchs and ministers, are awful names ; 
 
 Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 
 
 Religion, public order, both exact 
 
 External homage, and a supple knee, 
 10 To beings pompously set up, to serve 
 
 The meanest slave ; all more is merit's due, 
 
 Her sacred and inviolable right, 
 
 Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. 
 
 Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior wdrth ; 
 15 Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 
 
 Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, 
 
 And vote the mantle into majesty. 
 
 Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 
 
 His royal robe unborrow'd and unbought, 
 20 His dwn, descending fairly from his sires. 
 
 Shall man be proud to wear his livery, 
 
 And souls in ermin scorn a soul without ? 
 
 Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize ? 
 
 Pygmies are pygmies still, though perch'd on *Alps ; 
 25 And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 
 
 Each man makes his own stature, builds himself; 
 
 Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids : 
 
 Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 
 
 Thy bosom burns for pbwW ; 
 
 30 What station charms thee f I'll install thee there ; 
 
 'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ? 
 
 Then thou before wast something less than man. 
 
212 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 Has thy new post betray'd thee into pride ? 
 
 That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity ; ■ 
 
 That pride defames humanity, and calls 
 
 The being mean, which staffs or strings can- raise. 
 5 High wdrth is elevated place : 'Tis more ; 
 
 It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 
 
 Makes more than monarchs, makes an honest mcln ; 
 
 Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth ; 
 
 And though it wears no ribband, 'tis renown ; 
 10 Renown, that would not quit thee, though disgrac'd, 
 
 Nor leave thee pendant on a master's smile. 
 
 Other ambition nature interdicts ; 
 
 Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 
 
 By pointing at his origin, and end ; 
 15 Milk, and a swathe, at first his whole demand ; 
 
 His whole domain, at last, a turf, or stone ; 
 
 To whom, between, a world may seem too small. 
 
 Young. 
 
 9. Nothing can make it less than mad in man 
 
 To put forth all his ardour all his art, 
 20 And give his soul her full unbounded flight, 
 
 But reaching Him, who gave her w T ings to fly. 
 
 When blind ambition quite mistakes her road, 
 
 And downward pores, for that which shines above, 
 
 Substantial happiness, and true renown ; 
 25 Then, like an ideot, gazing on the brook, 
 
 We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 
 
 At glory grasp and sink in infamy. 
 
 Ambition I pow'rful source of good and ill ! 
 
 Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 
 30 When disengag'd from earth, with greater ease 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 213 
 
 And swifter flight transports us to the skies ; 
 
 By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir'd, 
 
 It turns a, -curse ; it is our chain, and scourge, 
 
 In this dark dungeon, where confin'd we lie, 
 5 Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
 
 All prospect of eternity shut out ; 
 
 And, but for execution, ne'er set free. 
 
 In spite of all the truths the muse has sung, 
 
 Ne'er to be priz'd enough ! enough revolv'd ! 
 10 Are there who wrap the world so close about them, 
 
 They see no farther than the clouds ? and dance 
 
 On heedless vanity's fantastic toe ? 
 
 Till, stumbling at a straw, in their career, 
 
 Headlong they plunge, where end both dance and 
 song. 
 15 Are there on earth (let me not call them men) 
 
 Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts ; 
 
 Unconscious as the mountain of its ore 5 
 
 Or rock, of its inestimable gem ? 
 
 When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these' 
 20 Shall kndw their treasure ; treasure, then, no more. 
 Are there (still more amazing !) who resist 
 
 The rising thought f Who smother, in its birth, 
 
 The glorious truth . ? Who struggle to be brutes ? 
 
 Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way, 
 25 And, with revers'd ambiton, strive to sink ? 
 
 Who labour downwards through th' opposing pow'r 
 
 Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 
 
 To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 
 
 Of endless night ? night darker than the grave's ! 
 30 Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 
 
214 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 
 Work all their engines, level their black fires, 
 To blot from man this attribute divine, 
 (Than vital blood far dearer to the wise) 
 5 Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ? 
 
 Young. 
 
 10. Look nature through, 'tis revolution all : 
 AH change ; no death. Day follows night ; and night 
 The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
 Earth takes th' example. See, the S.ummer gay, 
 
 10 With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers, 
 Droops into pallid Autumn : Winter grey, 
 Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm, 
 Blows Autumn, and his golden fruits, away ; — ■ • 
 Then melts into the Spring : Soft Spring, with breath 
 
 15 Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 
 Recalls the first. All, to re-flourish, fades ; 
 As in a wheel, all sinks, to re-ascend. 
 Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 
 
 Look down on earth. — What seest thou ? Wondrous 
 things ! 
 
 20 Terrestrial wonders, that eclipse the- skies. 
 
 What lengths of labour'd lands ! what loaded seas ! 
 Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war ! 
 Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought, 
 His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 
 
 25 Nor can th' eternal rdcks his will withstand : 
 What levell'd mountains ! and what lifted vales ! 
 O'er vales and mountains, sumptuous cities swell, 
 And gile our landscape with their glitt'ring spires. 
 Some 'mid the wond'ring waves majestic rise ; 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 215 
 
 And Neptune holds a mirror to their charms. 
 
 See, wide dominions ravish'd from the deep ! 
 
 The narrow'd deep with indignation foams. 
 
 How the tall temples, as to meet their gods, 
 5 Ascend the skies ! the proud triumphal arch 
 
 Shews us half heav'n beneath its ample bend. 
 
 High thro' mid air, here streams are taught to flow : 
 
 Whole rivers, there, laid by in basons, sleep. 
 
 Here, plains turn oceans ; there, vast oceans join 
 10 Thro' kingdoms channel'd deep from shore to shore : 
 
 And chang'd creation takes its face from man. 
 
 Earth's disembowel'd! measur'd are the skies! 
 
 Stars are detected in their deep recess ! 
 
 Creation widens ! vanquish'd nature yields ! 
 15. Her secrets are extorted ! art prevails ! 
 
 What monument of genius, spirit, power ! 
 
 Young. 
 
 1 1. The world's a prophecy of worlds to come ; 
 
 And who, what God foretels (who speaks in things, 
 
 Still louder than in words) shall dare deny ? 
 20 If nature's arguments appear too weak, 
 
 Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man. 
 
 If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees, 
 
 Can he prove infidel to what he feels ? 
 
 Who reads his bosom, reads immortal life ; 
 25 Or, nature, there, imposing on her sons, 
 
 Has written fables : man was made a lie. 
 Why discontent for ever harbour'd there ? 
 
 Incurable consumption of our peace ! 
 
 Resolve me, why, the cottager and king, 
 30 He, whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he 
 
216 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 Who steals his whole dominion from the waste, 
 
 Repelling winter blasts with mud and straw, 
 
 Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh, 
 
 In fate so distant, in complaint so near ? 
 5 Reason progressive, instinct is complete ; 
 
 Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs. 
 
 Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 
 
 Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 
 
 Could know, or do, or covet, or enjoy. 
 10 Were man to live coeval with the sun, 
 
 The patriarch-pupil would be learning still; 
 
 Yet, dying, leave his lesson half unlearnt. 
 
 Men perish in advance, as if the sun 
 
 Should set ere noon, in eastern oceans drown'd ; 
 15 To man, why, stepdame nature ! so severe? 
 
 Why thrown aside thy master-piece half-wrought, 
 
 While meaner efforts thy last hand enjoy ? 
 
 Or, if abortively, poor man must die, 
 
 Nor reach, what reach he might, why die in dread ? 
 20 Why curst with foresight ? wise to misery ? 
 
 Why of his proud prerogative the prey ? 
 
 Why less pre-eminent in rank, than pain ? 
 His immortality alone can solve 
 
 The darkest of enigmas, human hope; 
 25 Of all the darkest, if at death we die. 
 
 Hope, eager hope, th' assassin of our joy, 
 
 All present blessings treading under foot, 
 
 Is scarce a milder tyrant than despair. 
 
 With no past toils content, still planning new, 
 30 Hope turns us o'er to death alone for ease. 
 
 Possession, why more tasteless than pursuit f 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 217 
 
 Why is a wish far dearer than a crown ? 
 
 That wish accomplished, why, the grave of bliss? 
 
 Because, in the great future bury'd deep, 
 
 Beyond our plans of empire, and renown, 
 5 Lies all that man with ardor should pursue ; 
 
 And HE who made him, bent him to the right. 
 Why beats thy bosom with illustrious dreams 
 
 Of self-exposure, laudable, and great ? 
 
 Of gallant enterprise, and glorious death ? 
 10 Die for thy country 1 — Thou romantic fool ! 
 
 Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink : 
 
 Thy country ! what to Thee ? — The Godhead, what ? 
 
 (I speak with awe !) though He should bid thee bleed f 
 
 If, with thy blood, thy final hope is spilt, 
 15 Nor can Omnipotence reward the blow; 
 
 Be deaf; preserve thy being? disobey. 
 
 Since virtue's recompense is doubtful, here, 
 
 If man dies wholly, well may we demand, 
 
 Why is man suffer'd to be good in vain ? 
 20 Why to be good in vain, is man enjoin'd ? 
 
 Why to be good in vain, is man betray'd ? 
 
 Betray'd by traitors lodg'd in his own breast, 
 
 By sweet complacencies from virtue felt ? 
 
 Why whispers nature lies on virtue's part ? 
 25 Or if blind instinct (which assumes the name 
 
 Of sacred conscience) plays the fool in man, 
 
 Why reason made accomplice in the cheat ? 
 
 Why are the wisest loudest in her praise ? 
 
 Can man by reason's beam be led astray ? 
 30 Or, at his peril, imitate his God ? 
 
 Since virtue sometimes ruins us on earth, 
 19 
 
218 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 Or both are true; or, man survives the grave. 
 
 Or own the soul immortal, or invert 
 All order. Go, mock-majesty ! go, man ! 
 And bow to thy superiors of the stall ; 
 
 5 Through ev'ry scene of sense superior far : 
 
 They graze the turf untilPd ; they drink the stream, 
 No foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 
 Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar ; 
 Their good is good entire, unmTxt, unmarr'd ; 
 
 10 They find a paradise in ev'ry field, 
 
 On boughs forbidden where no curses hang : 
 
 Their ill no more than strikes the sense ; unstretch'd 
 
 By previous dread, or murmur in the rear; 
 
 When the worst comes, it comes unfear'd ; one stroke 
 
 15 Begins, and ends, their woe : They die but once; 
 Blest, incommunicable privilege ! for which 
 Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 
 Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vain. Young. 
 
 12. He ceas'd ; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, 
 20 Stood up ; the strongest and fiercest Spirit 
 That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair : 
 His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd 
 Equal in strength, and rather than be less, 
 Car'd not to be at all ; with that care lost 
 25 Went all his fear : of God, or Hell, or worse, 
 He reck'd not, and these words thereafter spake. 
 
 " 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; 
 30 For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 219 
 
 Millions that stand in arms, and, longing, wait 
 The signal to ascend, sit lingering here 
 Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
 Accept this dark opprobious den of shame, 
 5 The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
 By our delay ? JVd, let us rather choose, 
 Arm'd with Hell-flames and fury, all at once 
 O'er Heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way, 
 Turning our tortures into horrid arms 
 10 Against the Torturer ; when to meet the noise 
 Of his almighty engine he shall hear 
 Infernal thunder, and for lightning see 
 Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
 Among his Angels, and his throne itself 
 15 Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, 
 His own invented torments. ( ) But perhaps 
 The way seems difficult and steep, to scale 
 With upright wing against a higher foe. 
 Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
 20 Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
 That in our proper motion we ascend 
 Up to our native seat: descent and/aZZ 
 To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
 When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear, 
 25 Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 
 With what compulsion and laborious flight 
 We sunk thus low ? Th' ascent is easy then ; 
 Th' event is fear'd ; should we again provoke 
 Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 
 30 To our destruction, if there be in Hell 
 
 Fear to be worse destroy'd : what can be worse 
 
220 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd 
 
 In this abhorred deep to utter woe : 
 
 Where pain of unextinguishable fire 
 
 Must exercise us without hope of end 
 5 The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 
 
 Inexorably, and the torturing hour, 
 
 Calls us to penance ? More destroy'd than thus, 
 
 We should be quite abolish'd, and expire. 
 
 What /ear we then ? what doubt we to incense 
 10 His utmost ire ? which, to the height enrag'd, 
 
 Will either quite consume us, and reduce 
 
 To nothing this essential (happier far 
 
 Than miserable, to have eternal being ;) 
 
 Or, -if our substance be indeed divine, 
 15 And cannot cease to be, we are at worst • 
 
 IP. 
 
 On 'this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 
 Our pow'r sufficient to disturb his Heaven 
 And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 
 Though inaccessible, his fatal throne ; 
 20 Which if not victory, Is yet revenge." Milton. 
 
 13. I should be much for open war, O peers ! 
 As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd 
 Main reason to persuade immediate war 
 Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 
 
 25 Ominous conjecture on the whole success : 
 When he, who most excels in fact of arms s 
 In what he counsels and in what excels 
 Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair. 
 And utter dissolution, as the scope 
 
 30 Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 221 
 
 First, what revenge ? The tow'rs of Heav'n are filPd 
 With armed watch, that render all access 
 Impregnable ; oft on the bord'ring deep 
 Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing 
 
 5 Scout far and wide into the realm of night, 
 
 Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way 
 By fbrce, and at our heels all hell should rise 
 With blackest insurrection, to confound 
 HeavVs purest light, yet our great enemy, 
 
 10 All incorruptible, would on his throne 
 Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould, 
 Incapable of stain, would soon expel 
 Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 
 Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope 
 
 15 Is fiat despair : we must exasperate 
 
 Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage, 
 And that must end us, that must be our cure, 
 To be no mdre : sad cure ; for who would lose 
 Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 
 
 20 Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 
 To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost 
 In the wide womb of uncreated night, 
 Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, 
 Let this be good, whether our angry foe 
 
 25 Can give it, or will ever . ? how he can 
 
 Is doubtful ; that he never will is sure. Milton. 
 
 14. Aside the Devil turn'd 
 
 For envy, yet with jealous leer malign 
 Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plain'd. 
 30 " Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two 
 19* 
 
222 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 
 The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill 
 Of bliss on bliss ; while I to Hell am thrust, 
 Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, 
 
 5 Amongst our other torments not the least, 
 Still unfulfill'd, with pain of longing pines. 
 Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd 
 From their own mouths : all is not theirs it seems ; 
 One fatal tree there stands of knowledge call'd, 
 
 10 Forbidden them to taste. Knowledge forbidden ? 
 Suspicious, reasonless ! Why should their Lord 
 Envy them that ? Can it be sin to know ? 
 Can it be death ? and do they only stand 
 By ignorance ? is that their happy state, 
 
 15 The proof of their obedience and their faith ? 
 O fair foundation laid whereon to build 
 Their ruin ! Hence I will excite their minds 
 With more desire to know, and to reject 
 Envious commands, invented with design 
 
 20 To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt 
 Equal with Gods : aspiring to be sueh, 
 They taste and die ; what likelier can ensue ? 
 But first with narrow search I must walk round 
 This garden, and no corner leave unspy'd ; 
 
 25 A chance but chance may lead where I may meet 
 Some wand'ring Spi'rit of Heav'n by fountain side, 
 Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw 
 What further would be learn'd. Live while ye may, 
 Yet happy pair ; enjoy till I return, 
 
 30 Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed." 
 So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd. 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 223 
 
 But with sly circumspection, and began, 
 Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his 
 roam. Milton. 
 
 In the following; speech, where an emphatic clause is in Italic 
 or has the mark of monotone, it requires a firm, full voice, and 
 generally a low note. 
 
 15. Speech of Titus Quinctius to the Romans, 
 
 Though I am not conscious, O Romans, of any crime 
 by me committed, it is yet with the utmost shame and 
 confusion that I appear in your assembly. You have 
 seen it — posterity will know it ! — in the fourth consul- 
 ship of Titus Quinctius, the iEqui and Volsci (scarce a 
 match for the Hernici alone) came in arms, to the very 
 gates of Rome, — ( ) and went away unchastised ! The 
 course of our manners, indeed, and the state of our af- 
 fairs, have long been such, that I had no reason to pre- 
 sage much good ; but, could I have imagined that so 
 great an ignominy would have befallen me this year, I 
 would, by banishment or death, (if all other means had 
 failed,) have avdided the station I am now in. (°) What ? 
 might Rome then have been taken, if those men who 
 were at our gates had not wanted courage for the at- 
 tempt ? — Rome taken, whilst I was consul? — ( c )Of hon- 
 ours 1 had sufficient — of life enough — more than enough 
 — I should have died in my third consulate. 
 
 But who are they that our dastardly enemies thus des- 
 pise ? — the consids, or ybu, Romans ? If we are in 
 fault, depose us, or punish us yet more severely. If you 
 are to blame — may neither gods nor men punish your 
 faults ! only may you repent ! — JVd, Romans, the confi- 
 
224 EXERCISES ON emphasis. [Ex. 19-22. 
 
 dence of our enemies is not owing to their courage, or 
 to their belief of your cowardice : they have been too of- 
 ten vanquished, not to know both themselves and you. 
 ( ) Discord, discord is the ruin of this city ! The eternal 
 disputes between the senate and the people are the sole 
 cause of our misfortunes. While we set no bounds 
 to our dominion, nor you to your liberty ; while you 
 impatiently endure Patrician magistrates, and we Ple- 
 beian ; our enemies take heart, grow elated, and pre- 
 sumptuous. ( ) In the name of the Immortal gods, what is 
 it, Romans, you would have ? You desired Tribunes ; 
 for the sake of peace, we granted them. You were ea- 
 ger to have Decemvirs ; we consented to their creation. 
 You grew weary of these Decemvirs ; we obliged them 
 to abdicate. Your hatred pursued them when reduced 
 to private men ; and we suffered you to put to death, 
 or banish, Patricians of the first rank in the republic. 
 You insisted upon the restoration of the Tribuneship ; 
 we yielded ; we quietly saw Consuls of your own faction 
 elected. You have the protection of your Tribunes, and 
 the privilege of appeal ; the Patricians are subjected to the 
 decrees of the Commons. Under pretence of equal and 
 impartial laws, you have invaded our rights ; and we 
 have suffered it, and we still suffer it. (°) When shall we 
 see an end of discord ? When shall we have one inter- 
 est, and one common country ? Victorious and triumph- 
 ant, you shew less temper than we under defeat. When 
 you are to contend with us, you can seize the Aventine 
 hill, you can possess yourselves of the Mons Sacer. 
 
 The enemy is at our gates, — the JRsquiline is near 
 being taken, — and nobody stirs to hinder it ! But against 
 
Ex. 19-22.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 225 
 
 us you are valiant, against us you can arm with dili- 
 gence. Come on, then, besiege the senate-house, make 
 a camp of the forum, fill the jails with our chief nobles, 
 and when you have achieved these glorious exploits, 
 then, at last, sally out at the JEsquiline gate, with the 
 same fierce spirits, against the enemy. Does your reso- 
 lution fail you for this ? Go then, and behold from our 
 walls your lands ravaged, your houses plundered and 
 in flames, the whole country laid waste with fire and 
 sword. Have you any thing here to repair these da- 
 mages ? Will the Tribunes make up your losses to you ? 
 They will give you words as many as you please ; bring 
 impeachments in abundance against the prime men in 
 the state ; heap laws upon laws ; assemblies you shall 
 have without end : but will any of you return the richer 
 from those assemblies ? ( ) Extinguish, O Romans, these 
 fatal divisions; generously break this cursed enchant- 
 ment, which keeps you buried in a scandalous inaction. 
 Open your eyes, and consider the management of those 
 ambitious men, who to make themselves powerful in 
 their party, study nothing but how they may foment di- 
 visions in the commonwealth. — If you can but summon 
 up your former courage, if you will now march out of 
 Rome with your consuls, there is no punishment you can 
 inflict which I will not submit to, if I do not, in a few 
 days, drive those pillagers out of our territory. This 
 terror of war, with which you seem so grievously struck, 
 shall quickly be removed from Rome to their own cities, 
 
226 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 23. 
 
 23] Page 88. Difference between the common and the 
 intensive inflection. 
 
 The difficulty to be avoided may be seen sufficiently in an ex- 
 ample or two. There is a general" tendency to make the slide of the 
 voice as great in degree when there is little stress as when th» j re is 
 much ; whereas in the former case the slide should be gentle, and 
 sometimes hardly perceptible. 
 
 Common slide. 
 
 To play with important truths ; to disturb the repose 
 of established tenets ; to subtilize objections ; and elude 
 proof, is too often the sport of youthful vanity, of which 
 maturer experience commonly repents. 
 
 Were the miser's repentance upon the neglect of a 
 good bargain ; his sorrow for being over-reached ; his 
 hope of improving a siim ; and his fear of falling into 
 want; directed to their proper objects, they would make 
 so many Christian graces and virtues. 
 
 Intensive slide. 
 Consider, I beseech you, what was the part of a 
 faithful citizen ? of a prudent, an active, and an honest 
 minister ? Was he not to secure Eubcea as our defence 
 against all attacks by sea ? Was he not to make Beotia 
 our barrier on the midland side ? The cities bordering 
 on Peloponnesus our bulwark on that quarter ? Was he 
 not to attend with due precaution to the importation of 
 corn, that this trade might be protected through all its 
 progress up to our own harbours ? Was he not to cover 
 those districts which we commanded by seasonable de- 
 tachments, as the Proconesus, the Chersonesus, and Ten- 
 edos ? To exert himself in the assembly for this pur- 
 
Ex. 24.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 227 
 
 pose ? While with equal zeal he laboured to gain others 
 to our interest and alliance, as Byzantium, Abydus, and 
 Euboea ? Was he not to cut off the best, and most im- 
 portant resources of our enemies, and to supply those in 
 which our country was defective ? — And all this you gain- 
 ed by my counsels and my administration. 
 
 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 
 24] Page 118. Compass of voice. 
 
 To assist in cultivating the bottom of the voice, I have selected 
 examples of sublime or solemn description, which admit of but lit- 
 tle inflection ; and some which contain the figure of simile. Where 
 the mark for low note is inserted, the reader will take pains to keep' 
 down his voice, and to preserve it in nearly the grave monotone. 
 
 1. ( ) He bowed the heavens also, and came down; 
 and darkness was under his feet. — And he rode upon a 
 cherub, and did fly : yea, he did fly upon the wings of 
 the wind. — He made darkness his secret place ; his pavil- 
 ion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of 
 the skies. — At the brightness that w T as before him his thick 
 clouds passed, hailstones and coals of fire.— The Lord 
 also thundered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his 
 voice ; hailstones and coals of fire. 
 
 2. ( ) And then shall appear the sign of the Son of 
 man in heaven : and then shall all the tribes of the earth 
 mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the 
 clouds of heaven with power and great glory. — And he 
 shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and 
 they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, 
 from one end of heaven to the other. 
 
 3. ( ) And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is 
 rolled together ; and every mountain and island were 
 
228 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 24. 
 
 moved out of their places. — And the kings of the earth, 
 and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief cap- 
 tains, and the mighty men, and every bond-man, and ev- 
 ery free-man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks 
 of the mountains ; — And said to the mountains and rocks, 
 Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth 
 on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb : — For 
 the great, day of his wrath is come ; and who shall be able 
 to stand ? 
 
 And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on 
 it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away ; 
 and there was found no place for them. — And 1 saw the 
 dead, small and great, stand before God ; and the books 
 were opened : and another book was opened, which is 
 the book of life : and the dead were judged out of those 
 things which were written in the books, according to their 
 works. — And the sea gave up the dead which were in it ; 
 and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in 
 them : and they were judged every man according to 
 their works. 
 
 4. " 'Tis listening Fear and dumb Amazement all 
 When to the startled eye, the sudden glance 
 Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud : 
 And following slower, in explosion fast, 
 The Thunder raises his tremendous voice. 
 At first heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
 The tempest growls ; but as it nearer comes 
 And rolls its awful burthen on the wind ; 
 The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 
 The noise astounds : till over head a sheet 
 Of lived flame discloses wide ; then shuts 
 And opens wider ; shuts and opens still 
 Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. 
 Follows the loosened aggravated roar 
 Enlarging, deep'ning, mingling, peal on peal 
 Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth." 
 
Ex. 24.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 
 229 
 
 5. 'Twas then great Marlb'rough's mighty soul was 
 
 prov'd, 
 That in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd, 
 Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, 
 Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war ; 
 In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, 
 To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid ; 
 Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, 
 And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. 
 ( ) So when an angel, by divine command, 
 With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, 
 (Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past) 
 Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; 
 And pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, 
 Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm, 
 
 6. Rous'd from his trance, he mounts with eyes 
 
 aghast, 
 When o'er the ship in undulation vast 
 A giant surge down rushes from on high, 
 And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie ; 
 ( ) As when, Britannia's empire to maintain, 
 Great Hawke descends in thunder on the main, 
 Around the brazen voice of battle roars, 
 And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores ; 
 Beneath the storm their shatter'd navies groan, 
 The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone ; 
 Thus the torn vessel felt the enormous stroke, 
 The beams beneath the thund'ring deluge broke. 
 
 7. To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern reply'd. 
 Reign thou in Hell, thy kingdom ; let me servo 
 In Heav'n God ever blest and his divine 
 Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd ; 
 
 Yet chains in Hell, not realms expect : meanwhile 
 From me return'd, as erst thou saidst, from flight. 
 This greeting on thy impious crest receive. 
 20 
 
230 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 24. 
 
 ( ) So say'ing, a noble stroke he lifted high, 
 . Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 
 
 10 On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, 
 
 Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, 
 Such ruin intercept ; ten paces huge 
 He back recoil'd ; the tenth on bended knee 
 His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth 
 
 15 Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, 
 Sidelong had push'd a mountain from his seat, 
 
 Half sunk with all his pines. 
 
 Now storming fury rose, 
 
 And clamour such as heard in Heav'n till now 
 
 20 Was never ; arms on armour clashing bray'd 
 Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 
 Of brazen chariots rag'd ; dire was the noise 
 Of conflict ; over head the dismal hiss 
 Of fiery darts in flaming vollies flew, 
 
 25 And flying, vaulted either host with fire. 
 So under fiery cope together rush'd 
 Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
 And inextinguishable rage ; all Heaven 
 Resounded, and had Earth been then, all Earth 
 
 30 Had to her centre shook. 
 
 ■Long time in even scale 
 
 The battle hung ; till Satan, who that day 
 Prodigious pow'r had shown, and met in arms 
 No equal, ranging through the dire attack 
 
 35 Of fighting Seraphim confus'd, at length 
 
 Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 
 Squadrons at once ; with huge two-handed sway, 
 Brandish'd aloft, the horrid edge came down 
 Wide wasting; such destruction to withstand 
 
 40 He hasted, and oppos'd the rocky orb 
 Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 
 A vast circumference. At his approach 
 The great Archangel from his warlike toil 
 Surceas'd, and glad, as hoping here to end 
 
Ex. 24.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION- 
 
 231 
 
 45 Intestine war in Heav'n, th' arch-foe subdu'd. 
 Now wav'd their fiery swords, and in the air 
 l\lade horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 
 Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood 
 In horror ; from each hand with speed retired, 
 50 Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng, 
 And left large fields, unsafe within the wind 
 Of such commotion ; such as, to set forth 
 Great things by small, if nature's concord broke, 
 Among the constellations war were sprung, 
 55 Two planets rushing from aspect malign 
 Of fiercest opposition in mid-sky 
 Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 
 
 Milton. 
 The following 1 examples are selected as a specimen of those pas- 
 sages which are most favourable to the cultivation of a top to the 
 voice. In pronouncing these the reader should aim to get up his 
 voice to the highest note on which he can articulate with freedom 
 and distinctness. See remarks page 120. If the student wishes 
 for more examples of this kind, he is referred to Exercises [5]. 
 
 8. Has a wise and good God furnished us with de- 
 sires which have no correspondent objects, and raised 
 expectations in our breasts, with no other view but to dis- 
 appoint them ? — Are we to be for ever in search of hap- 
 piness, without arriving at it, either in this world or the 
 next? — Are we formed with a passionate longing for 
 immortality, and yet destined to perish after this short 
 period of existence ? — Are we prompted to the noblest 
 actions, and supported through life, under the severest 
 hardships and most delicate temptations, by the hopes of 
 a reward which is visionary and chimerical, by the ex- 
 pectation of praises, of which it is utterly impossible for 
 us ever to have the least knowledge or enjoyment ? 
 
 9. (°)"Whence and what art thou, execrable shape. 
 That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
 Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
 To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, 
 
232 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 
 
 5 That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee : 
 Retire, or taste thy folly ; and learn by proof, 
 Hell-born, not to contend with spi'rits of Heav'n." 
 
 To whom the goblin full of wrath reply'd ; 
 (°) "Art thou that traitor Angel, art thou he, 
 
 10 Who first broke peace in Heav'n and faith, till then 
 Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
 Drew after him the third part of Heav'n's sons, 
 Conjur'd against the High'est, for which both thou 
 And they, outcast from God, are here condemn'd 
 
 15 To waste eternal days in woe and pain ? 
 
 An reckon'st thou thyself with spi'rits of Heav'n, 
 Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn 
 Where /reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
 Thy king and lord ? Back to thy punishment, 
 
 20 False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, 
 Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
 Thy ling'ring, or with one stroke of this dart 
 Strange horrors seize thee, and pangs unfelt before." 
 
 25.] Page 120. Transition. 
 
 The Exercises of the foregoing head were designed to accustom 
 the voice to exertion on the extreme notes of its compass, high and 
 low. The following Exercises under this head are intended to 
 accustom the voice to those sudden transitions which sentiment 
 often requires, not only as to pitch, but also as to quantity. 
 
 1. The Power of Eloquence, 
 
 AN ODE. 
 
 1 Heard ye those loud contending waves, 
 That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state ? 
 Saw ye the mighty from their graves 
 Look up, and tremble at her fate ? 
 Who shall calm the angry storm ? 
 Who the mighty task perform, 
 
 And bid the raging tumult cease ? 
 See the son of Hermes rise ; 
 
 
Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 233 
 
 With syren tongue, and speaking eyes, 
 Hush the noise, and sooth to peace ! 
 
 2 Lo ! from the regions of the North, 
 
 The reddening storm of battle pours ; 
 Rolls along the trembling earth, 
 Fastens on the Olynthian towers. 
 
 3 (°) " Where rests the sword ? — where sleep the 
 
 brave ? 
 Awake ! Cecropia's ally save 
 
 From the fury of the blast ; 
 Burst the storm on Phocis' walls ; 
 Rise ! or Greece for ever falls, 
 
 y Up ! or Freedom breathes her last !'' 
 
 4 ( ) The jarring States, obsequious now, 
 
 View the Patriot's hand on high ; 
 Thunder gathering on his brow, 
 Lightning flashing from his eye ! 
 
 5 Borne by the tide of words along, 
 
 One voice, one mind, inspire the throng : 
 
 (°°) "To arms ! to arms ! to arms !" they cry. 
 
 " Grasp the shield, and draw the sword, 
 
 Lead us to Philippi's lord, 
 
 Let us conquer him — or die !" 
 
 6 ( ) Ah Eloquence ! thou wast undone ; 
 
 Wast from thy native country driven, 
 When Tyranny eclips'd the sun, 
 
 And blotted out the stars of heaven. 
 
 7 When Liberty from Greece withdrew, 
 And o'er the Adriatic flew, 
 
 To where the Tiber pours his urn, 
 She struck the rude Tarpeian rock; 
 Sparks were kindled by the shock — 
 
 Again thy fires began to burn ! 
 
 20* 
 
234 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 
 
 8 Now shining forth, thou mad'st compliant 
 
 The Conscript Fathers to thy charms ; 
 Rous'd the world-bestriding giant, 
 Sinking fast in Slavery's arms ! 
 
 9 I see thee stand by Freedom's fane, 
 Pouring the persuasive strain, 
 
 Giving vast conceptions birth : 
 Hark ! I hear thy thunder's sound, 
 Shake the Forum round and round — 
 
 Shake the pillars of the earth ! 
 
 10 First-born of Liberty divine ! 
 
 Put on Religion's bright array ; 
 Speak ! and the starless grave shall shine 
 The portal of eternal day ! 
 
 1 1 Rise, kindling with the orient beam ; 
 Let Calvary's hill inspire the theme ! 
 
 Unfold the garments roll'd in blood ! 
 O touch the soul, touch all her chords, 
 With all the omnipotence of words, ' 
 
 And point the way to Heaven — to God. 
 
 Cary. 
 
 2. Hohenlinden... .Description of a Battle with Firearms. 
 
 1 ( )On Linden when the sun was low, 
 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
 And dark as winter, was the flow 
 
 Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 
 
 2 But Linden saw another sight, 
 When the drum beat at dead of night, 
 Commanding fires of death to light 
 
 The darkness of her scenery. 
 
 3 By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 
 Each warriour drew his battle blade, 
 
Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 
 235 
 
 And furious every charger neighed, 
 To join the dreadful revelry. 
 
 Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
 Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, 
 And louder than the bolts of Heaven 
 Far flashed the red artillery. 
 
 And redder yet those fires shall glow 
 On Linden's hills of bloodstained snow ; 
 And darker yet shall be the flow 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly. 
 
 'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun 
 Can pierce the war clouds, rolling dun, 
 While furious Frank and fiery Hun, 
 Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. 
 
 The combat deepens. ( 00 ) On, ye brave, 
 Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
 And charge with all thy chivalry ! 
 
 (°)Ah ! few shall part where many meet !* 
 The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
 And every turf beneath their feet 
 Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 3. Hamlet's Soliloquy. 
 
 This is one of the most difficult things to read in the English 
 language. No one should attempt it without entering into the sen- 
 timent, by recurring to the story of Hamlet. The notation which 
 I have given, however imperfect, may at least furnish the reader 
 with some guide in the management of his voice. Want of dis- 
 crimination, has been the common fault in reading this soliloquy. 
 
 To be, or not to be f •• that is the question. — 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
 The slings and arrow 7 s of outrageous fortune, 
 
 * Soft. 
 
23G EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 
 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 
 5 And, by opposing, end them ? — To dfe — to sleep — 
 No more : — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
 The heart-aeh, and the thousand natural shocks 
 That flesh is heir to? — 'tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. To die ; — to sleep; — 
 
 10 To sleep ! perchance, to dream: — Ay, there's the rub ; 
 • • For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
 When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
 Must give us pause. There's the respect, 
 That makes calamity of so long life ; 
 
 15 For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,* 
 The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
 The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, 
 The insolence of office, and the spurns 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes ; 
 
 20 When he himself might his quietus make 
 
 With a bare bddkin ? who would fardels bear, 
 To groan and sweat under a weary life ? 
 ( q ) But that the dread of something after death, 
 That undiscover'd country, from whose bourne 
 
 25 No traveller returns, puzzles the will ;• 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
 Than fly to others that we know not of. 
 Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, — 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 
 30 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
 With this regard their currents turn awry, 
 And lose the name of action. 
 
 4. Battle of Waterloo. 
 
 1 There was a sound of revelry by night, 
 And Belgium's capital bad gathered then 
 
 * The indignant feeling awakened in Hamlet by this enumera- 
 tion of particulars, requires the voice gradually to rise on each, 
 till it comes to the mark of transition. 
 
Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 237 
 
 Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : 
 A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
 Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
 And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
 ( )But hush ! hark ! •• a deep sound strikes like a ris- 
 ing knell ! 
 
 2 Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind, 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 
 (°)On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
 No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 
 To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — 
 
 ( ) But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more. 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat. 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
 (°°) *Arm ! arm ! it is — it is— the cannonh opening 
 roar ! 
 
 3 *Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
 And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
 Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness : 
 And there were sudden partings, such as press 
 The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
 Which ne'er might be repeated — who could guess 
 If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
 
 Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 
 
 4 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 war ; 
 
 And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
 Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
 While thronged the citizens with terror dumb 
 
 * Plaintive, 
 
238 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 
 
 Or whispering with white lips — " The foe ! They 
 come ! they come !" 
 
 5 *And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, 
 Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
 Grieving if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 
 
 Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
 In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
 Of living valour rolling on the foe 
 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and 
 low. 
 
 6 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
 Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, 
 
 The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, 
 The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day, 
 Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
 The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent, 
 The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
 Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 
 Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial 
 blent ! Byron. 
 
 5. Negro's Complaint. 
 
 1 Forced from home and all its pleasures, 
 
 Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
 To increase a stranger's treasures, 
 
 O'er the raging billows borne. 
 Men from England bought and sold me, 
 
 Paid my price in paltry gold; 
 But, though slave they have enrolled me, 
 
 Minds are never to be sold. 
 
 2 Still in thought as free as ever, 
 
 What are England's rights, I ask, 
 Me from my delights to sever, 
 Me to torture, me to task ? 
 
 * Plaintive. 
 
Ex.25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 239 
 
 Fleecy locks and black complexion 
 
 Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; 
 Skins may differ, but affection 
 
 Dwells in white and black the same. 
 
 3 Why did all-creating Nature 
 
 Make the plant for which we toil ? 
 Sighs must fan it, tears must water, 
 
 Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
 Think, ye masters iron-hearted, 
 
 Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
 Think how T many backs have smarted 
 
 For the sweets your cane affords. 
 
 4 (°)Ts there, as ye sometimes tell us, 
 
 Is there one who reigns on high f 
 Has he bid you buy and sell us, 
 
 Speaking from his throne the sky ? 
 Ask him, if your knotted scourges, 
 
 Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
 Are the means that duty urges 
 
 Agents of his will to use . ? 
 
 5 ( 00 ) Hark ! he answers — wild tornadoes, 
 
 Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
 Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 
 
 Are the voice with which he speaks. 
 He, foreseeing what vexations 
 
 Afric's sons should undergo, 
 Fixed their tyrants' habitations 
 
 Where his whirlwinds answer — no, 
 
 6 By our blood in Afric wasted, 
 
 Ere our necks received the chain ; 
 By the miseries that we tasted, 
 
 Crossing in your barks the main ; 
 By our sufferings since ye brought us 
 
 To the man-degrading mart ; 
 All, sustained by patience, taught us 
 
 Only by a broken heart f 
 
240 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 
 
 7 Deem our nation brutes no longer, 
 Till some reason ye shall find 
 Worthier of regard, and stronger 
 
 Than the colour of our kind. 
 Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 
 
 Tarnish all your boasted powers, 
 
 Prove that you have human feelings, 
 
 Ere you proudly question durs ! 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 6. Marco Bozzaris, The Epaminondas of Modern 
 Greece. 
 
 [He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp at Laspi, the site 
 of the ancient Plataea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the mo- 
 ment of victory. His last words were — u To die for liberty is a 
 pleasure, and not a pain."] 
 
 1 At midnight, in his guarded tent, 
 
 The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
 When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
 
 Should tremble at his power ; 
 In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
 The trophies of a conqueror ; 
 
 In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
 Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
 Then pressed, that monarch's throne, — a king ; 
 As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 
 
 As Eden's garden bird. 
 
 2 An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 
 
 That bright dream was his last ; 
 He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
 (°) " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
 He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
 And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 
 And death shots falling thick and fast 
 As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
 And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 
 
 Bozzaris cheer his band ; 
 
Ex. 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 24 1 
 
 (°°) " 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 !" 
 
 3 They fought — like brave men, long and well, 
 
 They piled that ground with Moslem slain, 
 They conquered — but. Bozzaris fell, 
 
 Bleeding at every vein. 
 His few surviving comrades saw 
 His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 
 
 And the red field was won ; 
 Then saw in death his eyelids close 
 Calmly, as to a night's repose, 
 
 Like flowers at set of sun. 
 
 4 *Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 
 
 Come to the mother, when she feels 
 For the first time her first-born's breath ; — 
 
 Come when the blessed seals 
 Which close the pestilence are broke, 
 And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
 Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
 The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; — 
 Come when the heart beats high and warm, 
 
 With banquet-song, and dance, and wine. 
 And thou art terrible : the tear, 
 The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
 And all we know, or dream, or fear 
 
 Of agony, are thine. 
 
 5 But to the hero, when his sword 
 
 Has won the battle for the free, 
 Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
 And in its hollow tones are heard 
 
 The thanks of millions yet to be. 
 Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
 
 • Plaintive. 
 
 21 
 
242 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25. 
 
 Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
 Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 
 
 Even in her own proud clime. 
 We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
 For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — 
 One of the few, the immortal names, 
 
 That were not born to die. 
 
 7. ( )Now when fair morn orient in Heaven ap- 
 pear'd, 
 Up rose the victor Angels, and to arms 
 The matin trumpet sung : in arms they stood 
 Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 
 
 5 Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 
 
 Look'd round, and scouts each coast light armed scour. 
 Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 
 Where lodg'd, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
 In motion or in halt : him soon they met 
 
 10 Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 
 But firm battalion ; back with speediest sail 
 Zophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing, 
 Came fly'ing, and in mid air aloud thus cry'd. 
 (°°) ' 'Arm, Warriors, arm for fight — -the foe at hand. 
 
 15 Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 
 This day ; fear not his flight : so thick a cloud 
 He comes, and settled in his face I see 
 Sad resolution and secure ; let each 
 His adamantine coat gird well,— and each 
 
 20 Fit well his helm, — gripe fast his orbed shield, 
 Borne ev'n or high ; for this day will pour down, 
 If I conjecture ought no drizzling shower, 
 But rattling storm of arrows barb'd with fire.' 
 ( ) So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and sooh 
 
 25 In order, quit of all impediment ; 
 
 Instant without disturb they took alarm, 
 And onward move embattled : when behold 
 Not distant far with heavy pace the foe 
 
Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 243 
 
 Approaching, gross and huge, in hollow cube 
 
 30 Training his devilish enginry, impal'd 
 
 On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, 
 To hide'the fraud. At interview both stood 
 A while ; but suddenly at head appear'd 
 Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud: 
 
 35 ( O0 ) ' Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold ; 
 That all may see who hate us, how we seek 
 Peace and composure, and with open breast 
 Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
 Our overture, and turn not back perverse.' 
 
 Milton. 
 
 26] Page 125. Expression. 
 
 The Exercises arranged in this class beloug to the general head 
 of the pathetic and delicate. As this has been partly anticipated 
 under another head of the Exercises, and as the manner of execu- 
 tion in this case depends wholly on emotion, there can be little as- 
 sistance rendered by a notation. Before reading the pieces in this 
 class, the remarks of the Analysis p. 125 — 128 should be review- 
 ed ; and the mind should be prepared to feel the spirit of each 
 piece, by entering fully into the circumstances of the case. 
 
 ] . Genesis xliv. JudaJvs speech to Joseph. 
 
 18 *Then Judah came near unto him, and said, O 
 my lord, let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my 
 lord's ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy ser- 
 vant : for thou art even as Pharaoh. — 19 My lord asked 
 his servants, saying, Have ye a father, or a brother ? — 
 20 And we said unto my lord, We have a father, an old 
 man, and a child of his old age, a little one : and his broth- 
 er is dead, and he alone is left of his mother, and his fa- 
 ther loveth him. — 21 And thou saidst unto thy servants, 
 Bring him down unto me, that I may set mine eyes upon 
 him. — 22 And we said unto my lord, The lad cannot 
 
 * The reader is again desired. to bear in mind that in extracts 
 from the Bible, as well as other books, Italic words denote empha- 
 
J44 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26\ 
 
 leave his father : for if he should leave his father, his 
 father would die. — 23 And thou saidst unto thy servants, 
 Except your youngest brother come down with you, ye 
 shall see my face no more. — 24 And it came to pass, 
 when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told 
 him the words of my lord. — 25 And our father said, Go 
 again, and buy us -a little food. — 26 And we said, We 
 cannot go down : if our youngest brother be with us, then 
 will we go down ; for we may not see the man's face, ex- 
 cept our youngest brother be with us. — 27 And thy ser- 
 vant my father said unto us, Ye know that my wife bear 
 me two sons : — 28 And the one went out from me, and 
 i said, Surely he is torn in pieces ', and 1 saw him not 
 since : — 29 And if ye take this also from me, and mis- 
 chief befall him, ye shall bring down my grey hairs with 
 sorrow to the grave. — 30 Now therefore when I come 
 to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us ; 
 (seeing that his life is bound up in the lad's life ;) — 31 It 
 shall come to pass, when he seeth that the lad is not with 
 us, that he will die : and thy servants shall bring down 
 the grey hairs of thy servant our father with sorrow to the 
 grave. — 32 For thy servant became surety for the lad 
 unto my father, saying, If I bring him not unto thee, then 
 { shall bear the blame to my father for ever. — 33 Now 
 therefore, I pray thee, let thy servant abide instead of the 
 lad a bond-man to my lord ; and let the lad go up with 
 his brethren.-— 34 For how shall I go up to my father, 
 and the lad be not with me ? lest peradventure 1 see the 
 evil that shall come on my father. 
 
 2. Genesis xlv. Joseph disclosing himself 
 
 1 . Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all 
 them that stood by him ; and he cried. Cause every man 
 to go out from me. And there stood no man with him, 
 while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. — 2 
 And he wept aloud : and the Egyptians and the house of 
 Pharaoh heard. — 3 And Joseph said unto his brethren. 
 
Ex. 20.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 245 
 
 I am Joseph; doth my father yet live ? And his breth- 
 ren could not answer him ; for they were troubled at his 
 presence. — 4 And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come 
 near to me, I pray you : and they came near. And he 
 said, I am Joseph your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. 
 5 Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with your- 
 selves, that ye sold me hither : for God did send me be- 
 fore you to preserve life. 6 For these two years hath the 
 famine been in the land : and yet there are five years, in 
 the which there shall neither be earing nor harvest. 7 
 And God sent me before you, to preserve you a posterity 
 in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance. 
 
 8 So now it was not. you that sent me hither, but God : 
 and he hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of 
 all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt. 
 
 9 Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, 
 Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of ail 
 Egypt; come down unto me, tarry not : 10 And thou 
 shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near 
 unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy children's child- 
 ren, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou. hast : 
 
 I I And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there are five 
 years of famine.) lest thou, and thy household, and all 
 that thou hast come to poverty. 12 And behold, your 
 eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is 
 my mouth that speaketh unto you. 13 And ye shall tell 
 my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye 
 have seen ; and ye shall haste, and bring down my father 
 hither. 14 And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's 
 neck, and wept ; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 15 
 Moreover, he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon 
 them : and after that his brethren talked with him. 
 
 25 And they went up out of Egypt, and came into 
 the land of Canaan unto Jacob their father, 26 And told 
 him, saying, Joseph is yet alive, and he is governor over 
 all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he 
 believed them not. 27 And they told him all the words 
 of Joseph, which he had said unto them : and when he 
 21* 
 
2 46 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 26. 
 
 saw the wagons which Joseph" had sent to carry him, the 
 spirit of Jacob their father revived : 28 And Israel said, 
 It is enough ; Joseph my son is yet alive : I will go and 
 see him before 1 die. 
 
 3. The death of a friend. 
 
 1 I fain would sing : — but ah ! I strive in vain. 
 Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound, 
 With trembling step, to join yon weeping train, 
 
 I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, 
 And, mix'd with shrieks of wo, the knells of death re- 
 sound. 
 
 2 Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, 
 The soft amusement of the vacant mind ! 
 He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn, 
 He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined. 
 Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind ! 
 He sleeps in dust. Ah, how shall I pursue 
 
 My theme! To heart-consuming grief resign'd 
 Here on his recent grave I fix my view, 
 And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu ! 
 
 3 Art thou, my Gregory, for ever fled ! 
 And am I left to unavailing wo ! 
 
 When fortune's storms assail this weary head, 
 Where cares long since have shed untimely snow, 
 Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go ! 
 No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : 
 Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow, 
 My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears. 
 'Tis meet that I should mourn : flow forth afresh my tears. 
 
 Beattie. 
 
 4. The Sabbath. 
 
 How still the morning of the hallowed day ! 
 Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd 
 
Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 247 
 
 The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song. 
 The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath 
 5 Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers, 
 That yester morn bloom'd waving in the breeze : 
 The faintest sounds attract the ear, — the hum 
 Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, 
 The distant bleating, midway up the hill. 
 
 10 Calmness seems thron'd on yon unmoving cloud. 
 To him who wanders o'er the upland leas, 
 The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale, 
 And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark 
 Warbles his heav'n-tun'd song ; the lulling brook 
 
 15 Murmurs more gently down the deep-sunk glen ; 
 While from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke 
 O'er mounts the mist, is heard, at intervals, 
 The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. 
 
 With dove-like wings Peace o'er yon village broods : 
 
 20 The dizzying mill-wheel rests ; the anvil's din 
 Has ceas'd ; all, all around is quietness. 
 Less fearful on this day, the limping hare 
 Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man, 
 Her deadliest foe ; — the toil-worn horse, set free, 
 
 25 Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large, 
 And, as his stiff unwieldy bulk he rolls, 
 His iron-arm'd hoofs gleam in the morning ray. 
 
 But, chiefly, Man the day of rest enjoys. 
 Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day. 
 
 30 On other days, the man of toil is doom'd 
 To eat his joyless bread, lonely, the ground 
 Both seat and board, — screen'd from the winter's cold 
 And summer's heat, by neighbouring hedge or tree ; 
 But on this day, embosom'd in his home, 
 
 35 He shares the frugal meal with those he loves ; 
 With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy 
 Of giving thanks to God, — not thanks of form, 
 A word and a grimace, but reverently, 
 With covered face and upward earnest eye. 
 
24$ EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Hx. 2G. 
 
 10 Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail, the poor man's day. 
 The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe 
 The morning air pure from the city's smoke, 
 As wandering slowly up the river's bank, 
 He meditates on him whose power he marks 
 
 45 In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough. 
 And in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom 
 Around the roots ; and while he thus surveys 
 With elevated joy each rural charm, 
 He hopes, (yet fears presumption in the hope,) 
 
 50 That heaven may be one Sabbath without end. 
 But now his steps a welcome sound recalls : 
 Solemn, the knell from yonder ancient pile 
 Fills all the air, inspiring joyful awe ; 
 The throng moves slowly o'er the tomb-pav'd ground : 
 
 55 The aged man, the bowed down, the blind 
 
 Led by the thoughtless boy, and he who breathes 
 With pain, and eyes the new-made grave, w T ell-pleas'd : 
 These, mingled with the young, the gay, approach 
 The house of God : these, spite of all their ills, 
 
 60 A glow of gladness prove : with silent praise 
 They enter in : a placid stillness reigns ; 
 Until the man of God, worthy the name, 
 Opens the book, and, with impressive voice, 
 The weekly portion reads. 
 
 Grahame. 
 
 5. .The Burial of Sir John Moore. 
 
 1 Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
 
 As his corse to the ramparts we hurried; 
 Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 O'er the grave where our Hero was buried. 
 
 2 We buried him darkly ; at dead of night, 
 
 The sods with our bayonets turning, 
 By the struggling moon-beams' misty light. 
 And the lantern dimly burning. 
 
Ex. 26.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 
 249 
 
 3 No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 
 
 Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
 But he lay — like a warrior taking his rest — 
 With his martial cloak around him ! 
 
 4 Few and short were the prayers we said. 
 
 And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
 But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
 And we bitterly thought of the morrow — 
 
 5 We thought — as we hollowed his narrow bed, 
 
 And smoothed down his lonely pillow — 
 How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head. 
 And we far away on the billow ! 
 
 6 " Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
 
 And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
 But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
 In the grave where a Briton has laid him." 
 
 7 But half of our heavy task was done, 
 
 When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring, 
 And we heard the distant and random gun. 
 That the foe was suddenly firing — 
 
 S Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
 
 From the field of his fame fresh and gory ! 
 We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
 But we left him — alone with his glory ! 
 
 6. Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise. 
 
 " O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death ! 
 Must I thus leave thee, Paradise . p thus leave 
 Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
 Fit haunt of Gods ? where I had hope to spend, 
 Quiet though sad, the respite of that day 
 That must be mortal to us both. Q flowers, 
 That never will in other climate grow, 
 My early visitation, and my last 
 At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand 
 
250 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 2G. 
 
 10 From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, 
 Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank 
 Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount f 
 Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd 
 With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee 
 
 1 5 How shall I part, and whither wander down 
 Into a lower world, to this obscure 
 And wild ? how shall we breathe in other air 
 Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits ?" 
 
 7. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle. 
 
 ( o )Oh ! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
 It hath the primal, eldest curse upon't, 
 A brother's murder ! — Pray 1 cannot, 
 Though inclination be as sharp as 'twill, 
 
 5 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent : 
 And, like a man to double business bound, 
 I stand in pause where 1 shall first begin. 
 And both neglect. (°) What. if this cursed hand 
 Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ; 
 
 10 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 
 
 To wash it white as snow f Whereto serves mercy. 
 But to confront the visage of offence ? 
 And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force, 
 To be forestalled, ere we come to fall, 
 
 1 5 Or pardon'd being down ?— Then I'll look iip ; 
 My fault is past. — But oh, what form of prayer 
 Can serve my turn ? " Forgive me my foul murder !" 
 That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd 
 Of those effects for which I did the murder," 
 
 20 My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 
 May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ? 
 In the corrupted currents of this world, 
 Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; 
 And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 
 
 25 Buys out the law : but 'tis not so abdve : 
 There, is no shuffling ; there, the action lies 
 
Ex.27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 251 
 
 In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 
 
 Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
 
 — To give in evidence. — What then ? — what rests ? 
 
 30 Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 
 Yet what can it, when one cannot repent ? 
 ( )Oh wretched state ! oh bosom, black as death ! 
 Oh limed soul ; that, struggling to be free, 
 Art more engag'd ! Help, angels ! make assay ! 
 
 35 Bow, stubborn knees ; and, heart, with strings of steel. 
 Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 
 All may be well. 
 
 27] Page 128. Representation. 
 
 1. Matt. xiv. — 22 And straightway Jesus constrain- 
 ed his disciples to get into a ship, and to go before him 
 unto the other side, while he sent the multitudes away. 
 23 And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went 
 up into a mountain apart to pray : and when the evening 
 was come, he was there alone. 24 But the ship was 
 now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves : for the 
 wind was contrary. 25 And in the fourth watch of the 
 night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea. 26 And 
 when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were 
 troubled, saying, It is a spirit ; and they cried out for 
 fear. 27 But straightway Jesus spake unto them, say- 
 ing, Be of good cheer ; it is /; be not afraid. 28 And 
 Peter answered him and said, Lord, if it be thou, bid me 
 come unto thee on the water. 29 And he said, Come. 
 And when Peter was come down out of the ship, he 
 walked on the water, to go to Jesus. 30 But when he 
 saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid ; and beginning 
 to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. 31 And imme- 
 diately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him, 
 and said unto him, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst 
 thou doubt ? 32 And when they were come into the 
 ship, the wind ceased. 33 Then they that were in the 
 ship came and worshipped him, saying, Of a truth thou 
 art the Son of God. 
 
252 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 
 
 2. Matt. xvii. — 14 And when they were come to 
 the multitude, there came to him a certain man kneeling 
 down to him, and saying, 15 Lord, have mercy on my 
 son ; for he is lunatic, and sore vexed, for oft-times 
 he falleth into the fire, and oft into the water. 16 And 
 I brought him to thy disciples, and they could not cure 
 him. 17 Then Jesus answered and said, O faithless 
 and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you ? 
 how long shall I suffer you ? Bring him hither to mt. 
 18 And Jesus rebuked the devil, and he departed out of 
 him : and the child was cured from that very hour. 19 
 Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, and said, Why 
 could not wl cast him out ? 20 And Jesus said unto 
 them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto 
 you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall 
 say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place ; 
 and it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible un- 
 to you. 
 
 3. Matt, xviii. — 23 Therefore is the kingdom of 
 heaven likened unto a certain king which would take ac- 
 count of his servants. 24 And when he had begun to 
 reckon, one was brought unto him which owed him ten 
 thousand talents. 25 But forasmuch as he had not to 
 pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife 
 and children, and all that he had, and payment to be 
 made. 26 The servant therefore fell down, and wor- 
 shipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I 
 will pay thee all. 27 Then the lord of that servant was 
 moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him 
 the debt. 2S But the same servant went out, and found 
 one of his fellow-servants, which owed him a hundred 
 pence ; and he laid hands on him, and took him by the 
 throat, saying, Pay me that thou owest. 29 And his 
 fellow-servant fell down at his feet, and besought him, 
 saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. 
 30 And he would not: but went and cast him into pris- 
 on, till he should pay the debt. 31 So when his feU 
 
Ex. 27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 253 
 
 low-servants saw what was done, they were very sorry, 
 and came and told unto their lord all that was done. 
 32 Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto 
 him, O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, 
 because thou desiredst me : 33 Shouldest not thou also 
 have had compassion on thy fellow-servant, even as I had 
 pity on thee ? 
 
 4. Matt, xx.— 25 But Jesus called them unto him, 
 and said, Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exer- 
 cise dominion over them, and they that are great exer- 
 cise authority upon them. 26 But it shall not be so 
 among you : but whosoever will be great among you, let 
 him be your minister ; 27 And whosoever will be chief 
 among you, let him be your servant : 28 Even as the 
 Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to min- 
 ister, and to give his life a ransom for many. 29 And as 
 they departed from Jericho, a great multitude followed 
 him. 
 
 30 And behold, two blind men sitting by the way-side, 
 when they heard that Jesus passed by, they cried out, 
 saying, Have mercy on us, O Lord, thou son of David. 
 31 And the multitude rebuked them, because they should 
 hold their peace : but they cried the more, saying, Have 
 mercy on us, O Lord, thou son of David. 32 And Jesus 
 stood still, and called them, and said, What will ye that 
 I shall dd unto you f 33 They say unto him, Lord, that 
 our dyes may be opened. 34 So Jesus had compassion 
 on them, and touched their eyes : and immediately their 
 eyes received sight, and they followed hira. 
 
 5. Matt. xxi. — 23 And when he was come into the 
 temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came 
 unto him as he was teaching, and said, By what authdrity 
 doest thou these things f and who gave thee this author- 
 ity ? 24 And Jesus answered and said unto them, I also 
 will ask you one thing, which if ye tell me, I in like wise 
 will tell you by what authority I do these things. 25 The 
 
 22 
 
£54 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 
 
 baptism of John, whence was it ? from heaven, or of 
 men ? And they reasoned with* themselves, saying, If 
 we shall say, From heaven ; he will say unto us, Why did 
 ye not then believe him ? 26 But if we shall say, Of 
 men ; we fear the people : for all hold John as a prophet. 
 27 And they answered Jesus, and said, We cannot tell. 
 And he said unto them, Neither tell I you by what au- 
 thority I do. these things. 
 
 28 But what think ye ? A certain man had two sons ; 
 and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day 
 in my vineyard. 29 He answered and said, I will not ; 
 but afterward he repented, and went. 30 And he came 
 to the second, and said likewise. And he answered I go, 
 sir : and went not. 31 Whether of them tw T ain did the 
 w 7 ill of his father ? They say unto him, The first. Jesus 
 saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That the publicans 
 and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you. 
 
 6. Matt. xxv. — 31 When the son of man shall come 
 in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall 
 he sit upon the throne of his glory : 32 And before him 
 shall be gathered all nations : and he shall separate them 
 one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from 
 the goats : 33 And he shall set the sheep on his right 
 hand, but the goats on the left. 34 Then shall the King 
 say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my 
 Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the 
 foundation of the world: 35 For I was an hungered, 
 and ye gave me meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me 
 drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me in : 36 Naked, 
 and ye clothed me : I was sick, and ye visited me : I was 
 in prison, and ye came unto me. 37 Then shall the 
 righteous answer him, saying, Lord, whbn saw we thee 
 an hungered, and fed thee ? or thirsty, and gave thee 
 drink ? 38 When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee 
 in ? or naked, and clothed thee f 39 Or when saw we 
 thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee . ? 40 And 
 the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily, I say 
 
Ex.27.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 255 
 
 unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
 least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. 
 4 J Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, 
 Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepar- 
 ed for the devil and his angels : 42 For I was an hun- 
 gered, and ye gave mend meat: I- was thirsty, and ye 
 gave me no drink: 43 I was a stranger, and ye took 
 me not in : naked, and ye clothed me not : sick, and in 
 prison, and ye visited me not. 44 Then shall they also 
 answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hunger- 
 ed, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in 
 prison, and did not minister unto thee ? 45 Then shall 
 he answer them, saying, Verily, I say unto you, Inasmuch 
 as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not 
 to me\ 46 And these shall go away into everlasting 
 punishment : but the righteous into life eternal. 
 
 7. Acts xii. — 5 Peter therefore was kept in prison : 
 but prayer was made without ceasing of the Church unto 
 God for him. 6 And when Herod would have brought 
 him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping between 
 two soldiers, bound with two chains ; and the keepers 
 before the door kept the prison. 7 And behold, the an- 
 gel of the Lord came upon him, and a light shined in the 
 prison ; and he smote Peter on the side, and raised him 
 up, saying, Arise up quickly. And his chains fell off 
 from his hands. 8 And the angel said unto him, Gird 
 thyself, and bind on thy sandals : and so he did. And he 
 saith unto him, Cast thy garment about thee, and follow 
 me. And he went out, and followed him, and wist not 
 that it was true which was done by the angel; but thought 
 he saw a vision. 10 When they were past the first and 
 the second ward, they came unto the iron gate that lead- 
 eth unto the city ; which opened to them of his own ac- 
 cord : and they went out, and passed on through one 
 street: and forthwith the angel departed from him. II 
 And when Peter was come to himself, he said, Now I 
 know of a surety, that the Lord hath sent his angel, and 
 
256 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 
 
 hath delivered me out of the hand of Herod, and from 
 all the expectation of the people of the Jews. 12 And 
 when he had considered the thing, he came to the house 
 of Mary the mother of John, whose surname was Mark j 
 where many were gathered together, praying. 13 And 
 as Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel came 
 to hearken, named Rhoda. 14 And when she knew 
 Peter's voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but 
 ran in, and told how Peter stood before the gate. 1 5 And 
 they said unto her, Thou art mad. But she constantly 
 affirmed that it was even so. Then said they, It is his 
 angel. 16 But Peter continued knocking. And when 
 they had opened the door, and saw him, they were as- 
 tonished. 17 But he beckoning unto them with the hand 
 to hold their peace, declared unto them how the LSrd 
 had brought him out of the prison. And he said, Go 
 shew these things unto James, and to the brethren. And 
 he departed, and went into another place. 
 
 8, The siege of Calais. 
 
 Edward III. after the battle of Cressy, laid siege to 
 Calais. He had fortified his camp in so impregnable a 
 manner, that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual 
 to raise the siege, or throw succours into the city. The 
 command devolving upon Eustace St. Pierre, a man of 
 mean birth, but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitulate 
 with Edward, provided he permitted them to depart with 
 life and liberty. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cru- 
 elty, consented to spare the bulk of the plebeians, provid- 
 ed they delivered up to him six of their principal citizens 
 with halters about their necks, as victims of due atone- 
 ment for that spirit of rebellion with which they had in- 
 flamed the vulgar. When his messenger, Sir Walter 
 Mauny, delivered the terms, consternation and pale dis- 
 may were impressed on every countenance. To a long 
 and dead silence, deep sighs and groans succeeded, till 
 Eustace St. Pierre, getting up to a little eminence, thus 
 addressed the assembly ; — " My friends, we are brought 
 
Ex. 27.]- EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 257 
 
 to great straits this day. We must either yield to the 
 terms of our cruel and ensnaring conqueror, or give up our 
 tender infants, our wives, and daughters, to the bloody 
 and brutal lusts of the violating soldiers. Is there any 
 expedient left, whereby we may avoid the guilt and infa- 
 my of delivering up those who have suffered every mise- 
 ry with you, on the one hand, or the desolation and hor- 
 ror of a sacked city, on the other ? There is, my friends ; 
 there is one expedient left ! a gracious, an excellent, a 
 godlike expedient left ! Is there any here to whom vir- 
 tue is dearer than life ? Let him offer himself an obla- 
 tion for the safety of his people ! He shall not fail of a 
 blessed approbation from that Power who offered up his 
 only Son for the salvation of mankind." He spoke ; — 
 but a universal silence ensued. Each man looked around 
 for the example of that virtue and magnanimity which 
 all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted 
 the resolution. At length St. Pierre resumed, " I doubt 
 not but there are many here as ready, nay, more zealous 
 of this martydom than I can be ; though the station to 
 which I am raised by the captivity of Lord Vienne, im- 
 parts a right to be the first in giving my life for your sakes. 
 I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully. Who comes next . ? " 
 — " Your son," exclaimed a youth not yet come to ma- 
 turity. — " Ah ! my child !" cried St. Pierre ; " I am then 
 twice sacrificed. — But no ; I have rather begotten thee 
 a second time. Thy years are few, but full, my son. 
 The victim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and 
 goal of mortality. Who next, my friends ? This is the 
 hour of heroes." — " Your kinsman," cried John de Aire. 
 — " Your kinsman," cried James Wissant. — " Your kins- 
 man," cried Peter Wissant. — " Ah !" exclaimed Sir 
 Walter Mauny, bursting into tears, " why was not I a cit- 
 izen of Calais ?" The sixth victim was still wanting, but 
 was quickly supplied by lot, from numbers who were now 
 emulous of so ennobling an example. The keys of the 
 city were then delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six 
 prisoners into his custody ; then ordered the gates to be 
 22* 
 
'258 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 27. 
 
 opened, and gave charge to his attendants to conduct the 
 remaining citizens, with their families, through the camp 
 of the English. Before they departed, however, they 
 desired permission to take the last adieu of their deliver- 
 ers. What a parting ! what a scene ! they crowded with 
 their wives and children about St. Pierre and his fellow- 
 prisoners. They embraced ; they clung around ; they 
 fell prostrate before them ; they groaned ; they wept aloud ; 
 and the joint clamour of their mourning passed the gates 
 of the city, and was heard throughout the English camp. 
 
 9. Extract from a sermon of Robert Robinson. 
 
 Col. ii. 8. — Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit. 
 
 " Beware lest any man spoil you" . . . What ! is it 
 possible to spoil a Christian ? Indeed it is. A chris- 
 tian may spoil himself as a beautiful complexion or a 
 proper shape may be rendered disagreeable by circum- 
 stances of dress or uncleanliness ; he may be spoiled by 
 other people, just as a straight child may be made crook- 
 ed by the negligence of his nurse ; or exactly as a sweet- 
 tempered youth may be made surly or insolent by a cru- 
 el master. " Beware lest any man spoil you." Is it 
 possible for whole societies of Christians to be spoiled ? 
 Certainly it is. Nothing is easier. They may spoil one 
 another, as in a family, the temper of one single person 
 may spoil the peace of the whole ; or as in a school, one 
 trifling or turbulent master may spoil the education and 
 so the usefulness, through life, of two or three hundred 
 pupils, successively committed to his injudicious treat- 
 ment. All human constitutions, even the most excellent, 
 have seeds of imperfections in them, some mixtures of 
 folly, which naturally tend to weaken and destroy ; and 
 though this is not the case with the Christian religion it- 
 self, which is the wisdom of God without any mixture of 
 human folly ; yet even this pure religion, like the pure 
 juice of the grape, falling into the hands of depraved 
 m en, may be perverted, and whole societies may embrace 
 Christianity thus perverted. 
 
Ex. 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 259 
 
 Beware lest any man spoil you through . . . what ? 
 Idolatry, blasphemy, profligacy ? No. Christians are 
 in very little danger from great crimes ; but beware lest 
 any may spoil you through philosophy. What hath phi- 
 losophy done, that the apostle should thus guard Chris- 
 tians against it ? Did he not know that before his time, 
 while mimics were idly amusing one part of the world, 
 and heroes depopulating another, the peaceable sons of 
 philosophy disturbed nobody, but either improved man- 
 kind in their schools, or sat all calm and content in their 
 cells ? Did he not observe that in his time Christianity 
 was reputed folly, because it was taught and believed by 
 unlettered people ; and that if philosophers could be pre- 
 vailed on to teach it, it would have instantly acquired a 
 character of wisdom ? Whether the common people had 
 understood it or not, they would have reckoned it wise if 
 philosophers had taught it. The apostle knew all this, 
 and, far from courting the aid of learned men to secure 
 credit to the Gospel, he guards Christians in the text 
 against the future temptation of doing so. Had this cau- 
 tion been given us by any of the other apostles, who had 
 not had the advantage of a learned education, we might 
 have supposed, they censured what they did not under- 
 stand ; but this comes from the disciple of Gamaliel.* 
 
 28.] Page 138 — 143. Devotional Poetry. 
 
 The following selection of Psalms and Hymns, is designed only 
 as a specimen of the notation, partially applied here, which might 
 be more extensively applied to these compositions when they unite 
 the spirit of devotion with the elevated spirit of poetry. 
 
 The confinement of the stanza makes it much more unfavorable 
 than other verse, to freedom and variety in pronunciation. The 
 reader is desired to keep in mind the distinction between intensive 
 and common inflection, and to remember that the former occurs in 
 this kind of poetry only where there is direct question or strong 
 emphasis. — In some cases only part of a Psalm or Hymn is taken. 
 
 * The selections under this head are extended no farther here because several of 
 the familiar pieces in the second part of the Exercises are good examples of repre- 
 sentation and rhetorical dialogue. 
 
260 exercises on modulation. [ex. 28. 
 
 1. Psalm 17. l. m. 
 
 1 What sinners value, I resign ; 
 Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine : 
 I shall behold thy blissful face, 
 And stand complete in righteousness. 
 
 2 This life's a dream, an empty show ; 
 But the bright world to which I go, 
 Hath joys substantial and sincere ; 
 When shall I wake and find me there ? 
 
 3 O •• glorious hour ! O •• blest abode ! 
 I shall be near, and like my God ; 
 And flesh and sin no more control 
 The sacred pleasures of the soul. 
 
 4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground, 
 Till the last trumpet's joyful sound : 
 Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, 
 And in my Saviour's image rise. 
 
 Note : In some of the cases where the mark of monotone occurs, 
 there is a little inflection, most commonly downwards. 
 
 2. Psalm 93. p. m. 
 
 1 The Lord Jehovah reigns, 
 And royal state maintains, 
 
 His head with awful glories crown'd ; 
 
 Array'd in robes of light, 
 
 Begirt with sov'reign might, 
 And rays of majesty around. 
 
 2 In vain the noisy crowd, 
 Like billows fierce and loud, 
 
 Against thine empire rage and roar ; 
 
 In vain with angry spite 
 
 The surly nations fight, 
 And dash" like waves against the shore. 
 
 3 Let floods and nations rage, 
 And all their power engage ; 
 
 Let swelling tides assault the sky : 
 
 1 
 
Ex.28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 261 
 
 The terrors of thy frown 
 Shall beat their madness down ; 
 Thy throne for ever •• stands on high. 
 
 3. Psalm 132. cm. 
 
 1 Arise, O King of grace, arise, 
 
 And enter to thy rest : 
 Lo ! thy church waits with longing eyes, 
 Thus to be own'd and blest. 
 
 2 Enter with all thy glorious train, 
 
 Thy Spirit and thy word ; 
 All that the ark did once contain, 
 Could no such grace afford. 
 
 3 Here, mighty God, accept our vows ; 
 
 Here let thy praise be spread ; 
 Bless the provisions of thy house, 
 And fill thy poor with bread. 
 
 4 Here let the Son of David r&ign, 
 
 Let God's anointed shine ; 
 Justice and truth his court maintain, 
 With love and power divine. 
 
 5 Here let him hold a lasting throne, 
 
 And as his kingdom grows, 
 Fresh honours shall adorn his crown, 
 And shame confound his foes. 
 
 4. Psalm 135. c. m. 
 
 1 Great is the Lord, and works unknown 
 
 Are his divine employ ; 
 But still his saints are near his throne, 
 His treasure and his joy. 
 
 2 All power that gods or kings have claim'd 
 
 Is found with him alone ; 
 But heathen gods should ne'er be nam'd 
 Where our Jehovah's known. 
 
262 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 2! 
 
 3 Which of the stocks and stones they trust 
 
 Can give them showers of rain ? 
 In vain they worship glitt'ring dust, 
 And pray to gold in vain. 
 
 4 Ye nations, know the living God, 
 
 Serve him with faith and fear ; 
 He makes the churches his abode, 
 And claims your honours there. 
 
 5. Psalm 139. l. m. 
 
 1 My thoughts, before they are my own, 
 Are to my God distinctly known ; 
 
 He knows the words I mean to speak, 
 Ere from my op'ning lips they break. 
 
 2 Ama •• zing knowledge, vast and great ! 
 What large extent ! what lofty height ! 
 My soul, with all the powers I boast, 
 
 Is in the boundless prospect •• lost. 
 
 3 Oh may these thoughts possess my breast, 
 W T here'er I rove, where'er I rest; 
 
 Nor let my weaker passions dare •• 
 Consent to sin, •• for God is there. 
 
 6. Psalm 146. l. p. m. 
 
 1 I'll praise my Maker with my breath ; 
 And when my voice is lost in death, 
 
 Praise shall employ my nobler powers : 
 My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
 While life, and thought, and being last, 
 
 Or immortality endures. 
 
 2 Why should T make a man my trust ? 
 Princes must die and turn to dust : 
 
 Vain is the help of flesh and blood ; 
 Their breath departs, their pomp and pow'r, 
 And thoughts all vanish in an hour ; 
 
 Nor can they make their promise good. 
 
Ex. 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 263 
 
 3 Happy the man whose hopes rely 
 On Israel's God; lie made the sky, 
 
 And earth, and seas, with all their train ; 
 His truth for ever stands secure ; 
 He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor ; 
 
 And none shall find his promise vaim 
 
 7. Hymn 142, Book i. 
 
 1 Like sheep we went astray, 
 
 And broke the fold of God. 
 Each w T and'ring in a different way, 
 But all the downward road. 
 
 2 How dreadful was the hour, 
 
 When God our wand'rings laid, 
 And did at once his vengeance pour 
 Upon the Shepherd's head ! 
 
 3 How glorious was the grace 
 
 When Christ sustain'd the stroke •? 
 His life and blood the Shepherd pays 
 A ransom for the flock. 
 
 8. Hymn 14, Book ii. 
 
 1 Welcome, sweet day of rest, 
 
 That saw the Lord arise ; 
 Welcome to this reviving breast, 
 And these rejoicing eyes ! 
 
 2 One day amidst the place 
 
 Where my dear God hath been, 
 Is sweeter than ten thousand days 
 Of pleasurable sin. 
 
 4 My willing soul would stay 
 
 In such a frame as this ; 
 And sit and sing herself away 
 To everlasting bliss. 
 
264 exercises on modulation. [ex. 28. 
 
 9. Hymn 76, Book ii. 
 
 1 Hosanna to the Prince of light, 
 
 That doth'd himself in clay ; 
 Enter'd the iron gates of death, 
 And tore the bars away. 
 
 2 Death is no more the king of dread, 
 
 Since our Immanuel rose ; 
 
 He took the tyrant's sting away, 
 
 And spoil'd our hellish foes. 
 
 3 Raise your devotion, •• mortal tongues,— 
 
 To reach his blest abode : 
 Sweet be the accents of your songs 
 To our incarnate God. 
 
 4 Bright angels ! •• strike your loudest strings, 
 
 Your sweetest voices raise ; 
 Let heav'n and all created things 
 Sound our Immanuel's praise. 
 
 10. Hymn 77, Book ii. 
 
 1 Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears, 
 And gird the gospel armour on ; 
 March to the gates of endless joy, 
 
 Where thy great Captain-Samowr's gone. 
 
 . 2 Hell and thy sins resist thy course, 
 
 But hell and sin are vanquish'd foes ; 
 Thy Jesus nail'd them to the cross, 
 And sung the triumph when he rose. 
 
 3 Then let my soul march boldly on, 
 
 Press forward to the heav'nly gate ; 
 There peace and joy eternal reign, 
 
 And glitt'ring robes for conqu'rors wait. 
 
 4 There shall I wear a starry crown, 
 
 And triumph in almighty grace ; 
 While all the armies of the skies 
 Join in my glorious Leader's praise. 
 
 
Ex.28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 265 
 
 1J. Hymn 108, Book ii. 
 
 1 Come, let us lift our joyful eyes 
 
 Up to the courts above, 
 And smile to see our Father there, 
 Upon a throne of love. 
 
 2 Once 'twas the seat of dreadful wrath, 
 
 And shot devouring flame : 
 Our God appear'd consuming fire, 
 And Vengeance was his name. 
 
 3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood, 
 
 That calmed •• his frowning face, 
 That sprinkl'd o'er the burning throne, 
 And turn'd the wrath to grace. 
 
 4 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring, 
 
 Great Advocate on high ; 
 And glory to th' eternal King 
 That lays his fury by. 
 
 12. Hymn 116, Book ii. 
 
 1 How can I sink with such a prop 
 
 As my eternal God, 
 Who bears the earth's huge pillars up, 
 And spreads the heav'ns abroad ? 
 
 2 How can / die while Jesus lives, 
 
 Who rose and left the dead ? 
 Pardon and grace my soul receives 
 From mine exalted head. 
 
 3 All that I am, and all I have, 
 
 Shall be for ever thine : 
 Whate'er my duty bids me give, 
 My cheerful hands resign. 
 
 4 Yet, if 1 might make some reserve, 
 
 And duty did not call, 
 I love my God with zeal so great 
 That I should give him all. 
 23 
 
266 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 28. 
 
 13. Missionary Hymn. 
 
 1 From Greenland's icy mountains, 
 From India's coral strand ; 
 Where Afric's sunny fountains 
 Roll down their golden sand ; 
 From many an ancient river, 
 From many a palmy plain, 
 They call us to deliver •• 
 
 Their land from error's chain. 
 
 2 What tho' the spicy breezes 
 Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, 
 Tho' every prospect pleases, 
 And only man is vile ) 
 
 In vain with lavish kindness 
 The gifts of God are strown ; 
 The heathen in his blindness 
 Bows down to wood and stone. 
 
 3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted 
 With wisdom from on high, 
 Shall we to men benighted 
 The lamp of life deny ? 
 
 (°°) Salvation ! O •• Salvation ! 
 The joyful sound proclaim, 
 Till earth's remotest nation 
 Has learn'd Messiah's name. 
 
 4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story, 
 And you, ye waters, roll, 
 Till, like a sea of glory, 
 
 It spreads from pole to pole ; 
 Till o'er our ransom'd nature, 
 The Lamb for sinners slain, 
 Redeemer, King, Creator, 
 In bliss returns to reign. 
 
 Bishop Heber. 
 
EXERCISES. 
 PART II. 
 
 FAMILIAR PIECES. 
 
 The reader will observe that no rhetorical notation is applied 
 iu the following; Exercises. 
 
 29. Hamlefs instruction to Players. 
 
 Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
 trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of 
 our players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. 
 Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus : but 
 use all gently : for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may 
 say ' whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a 
 temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to 
 the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a 
 passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the 
 groundlings ; who, for the most part, are capable of noth- 
 ing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise : I would have 
 such a fellow whipped for out-doing Termagant ; it out- 
 herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it. Be not too tame nei- 
 ther, but let your own discretion be your tutor : suit the 
 action to the word, the word to the action ; with this spe- 
 cial observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of na- 
 ture : for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of 
 playing ; whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, 
 to hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue 
 her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age 
 
268 exercises. [Ex. 30. 
 
 and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this, over- 
 done, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, 
 cannot but make the judicious grieve ; the censure of which 
 one, must in your allowance, overweigh a whole theatre 
 of others. O, there be players, that I have seen play, — and 
 heard others praise, and that highly, — not to speak it pro- 
 fanely, that, neither having the accent of christians, nor the 
 gait of christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bel- 
 lowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen 
 had made men, and not made them well, they imitated hu- 
 manity so abominably. Shakspeare. 
 
 30. The dead Mother. 
 
 F. Touch not thy mother, boy — Thou canst not 
 
 wake her. 
 C. Why, father ? She still wakens at this hour. 
 F. Your mother's dead, my child. 
 5 C. And what is dead ? 
 
 If she be dead, why then 'tis only sleeping, 
 For I am sure she sleeps. Come, mother, — rise — 
 Her hand is very cold ! 
 F. Her heart is cold, 
 i Her limbs are bloodless, would that mine were so ! 
 C. If she would waken, she would soon be warm, 
 Why is she wrapt in this thin sheet ? If I, 
 This winter morning, were not covered better, 
 I should be cold like her. 
 15 F. No — not like her : 
 
 The fire might warm you, or thick clothes — but her — 
 Nothing can warm again ! 
 C If I could wake her, 
 She would smile on me, as she always does, 
 20 And kiss me. Mother ! you have slept too long — 
 Her face is pale — and it would frighten me, 
 But that I know she loves me. 
 F. Come, my child. 
 
 C. Once, when I sat upon her lap, I felt 
 25 A beating at her side, and then she said 
 It was her heart that beat, and bade me feel 
 For my own heart, and they both beat alike, 
 
Ex.31.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 269 
 
 Only mine was the quickest — And I feel 
 My own heart yet — but her's — I cannot feel — 
 30 F. Child ! child ! — you drive me mad — Come hence, 
 I say. 
 C Nay, father, be not angry ! let me stay here 
 Till my mother wakens. 
 F. I have told you, 
 35 Your mother cannot wake — not in this world — 
 But in another she will wake for us. 
 When we have slept like her, then we shall see her. 
 C. Would it were night then ! 
 F. No, unhappy child ! 
 40 Full many a night shall pass, ere thou canst sleep 
 That last, long sleep. — Thy father soon shall sleep it ; 
 Then wilt thou be deserted upon earth : 
 None will regard thee ; thou wilt soon forget 
 That thou hadst natural ties, — an orphan lone, 
 45 Abandoned to the wiles of wicked men, 
 And women still more wicked. 
 
 C. Father ! Father ! 
 Why do you look so terribly upon me, 
 You will not hurt me 1 
 50 F. Hurt thee, darling I no ! 
 
 Has sorrow's violence so much of anger, 
 That it should fright my boy ? Come, dearest, come. 
 C. Your are not angry then ? 
 F. Too well I love you. 
 55 C. All you have said I cannot now remember, 
 Nor what is meant — you terrified me so. 
 But this I know, you told me, — I must sleep 
 Before my mother wakens — so, to-morrow — 
 Oh father ! that to-morrow were but come ! 
 
 31. The Temptation. 
 
 Gen. iii. — 1 Now the serpent was more subtile than any 
 beast of the field which the Lord God had made : and he 
 said unto the woman, yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat 
 of every tree of the garden ? 2 And the woman said unto 
 the serpent, we may eat of the fruit of the trees of the gar- 
 den : 3 But of the fruit, of the tree which is in the midst 
 23* 
 
270 exercises. [Ex. 62. 
 
 of the garden, God hath said, ye shall not eat of it, neither 
 shall ye touch it, lest ye die. 4 And the serpent said unto 
 the woman, ye shall not surely die. 5 For God doth know, 
 that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be open- 
 ed ; and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil. 8 
 And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the 
 garden in the cool of the day ; and Adam and his wife hid 
 themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the 
 trees of the garden. 9 And the Lord God called unto Ad- 
 am, and said unto him, Where art thou ? 10 And he said, 
 I heard thy voice in the garden : and I was afraid, because 
 I was naked ; and I hid myself. 11 And he said, Who 
 told thee that thou wast naked ? Hast thou eaten of the tree 
 whereof I commanded thee, that thou shouldest not eat? 
 12 And the man said, The woman whom thou gavest to be 
 with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat. 13 And 
 the Lord God said unto the woman, What is this that thou 
 hast done ? And the woman said, The serpent beguiled 
 me, and I did eat. 
 
 32. Partiality of Authors. 
 
 " Have you read my Key to the Romans V — said 
 Dr. Taylor, of Norwich, to Mr. Newton. — " I have 
 turned it over." — " You have turned it over ! And is 
 this the treatment a book must meet with, which has 
 5 cost me many years of hard study ? Must I be told, at 
 last, that you have * turned it over,' and then thrown it 
 aside ? You ought to have read it carefully and weigh- 
 ed deliberately what comes forward on so serious a sub- 
 ject." — " Hold ! You have cut me out full employment, 
 
 10 if my life were to be as long as Methuselah's. I have 
 somewhat else to do in the short day allotted me, than to 
 read whatever any one may think it his duty to write. 
 When I read, I wish to read to good purpose ; and 
 there are some books, which contradict on the very face 
 
 15 of them what appear to me to be first principles. You 
 surely will not say I am bound to read such books. If 
 a man tells me he has a very elaborate argument to 
 prove that two and two make five, I have something 
 else to do than to attend to this argument. If I find 
 
Ex. 33.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 271 
 
 20 the first mouthful of meat which I take from a fine- 
 looking joint on my table is tainted, I need not eat 
 through it to be convinced I ought to send it away." 
 
 Cecil* 
 
 33. What is Time ? 
 
 I asked an aged man, a man of cares, 
 Wrinkled, and curved, and white with hoary hairs ; ' 
 *' Time is the warp of life," he said, '* Oh, tell 
 
 The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well /" 
 5 I asked the ancient, venerable dead, 
 
 Sages who wrote, and warriours who bled ; 
 
 From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed, 
 
 " Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode !" 
 
 I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide 
 10 Of life had left his veins : "Time !" he replied ; 
 
 " Tve lost it !" Ah, the treasure ! and he died. 
 
 I asked the golden sun, and silver spheres, 
 
 Those bright chronometers of days and years : 
 
 They answered, " Time is but a meteor glare !" 
 15 And bade us for eternity prepare. 
 
 I asked the Seasons, in their annual round, 
 
 Which beautify, or desolate the ground ; 
 
 And they replied, fno oracle more wise,) 
 
 " 'Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize I* 
 20 I asked a spirit lost ; but oh, the shriek 
 
 That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I speak \ 
 
 It cried, " A particle ! a speck ! a mite 
 
 Of endless years, duration infinite !" — 
 
 Of things inanimate, my dial I 
 25 Consulted, and it made me this reply : — 
 
 "Time is the season fair of living well, 
 
 The path of glory, or the path of hell." 
 
 I asked my Bible ; and methinks it said, 
 
 " Time is the present hour, — the past is fled ; 
 30 Live ! live to-day ! to-morrow never yet 
 
 On any human being rose or set." 
 
 I asked old Father Time himself, at last, 
 
 But in a moment he flew swiftly past : 
 
 His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind 
 *35 His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind. 
 
372 exercises. [Ex. 34-35. 
 
 I asked the mighty Angel, who shall stand, 
 One foot on sea, and one on solid land ; 
 " By Heavens," he cried, " I swear the mystery's o'er : 
 Time ivas," he cried, " but Time shall be no more | M 
 
 Marsden. 
 
 34. Ruth and Naomi. 
 
 'Ruth i.-14 And they lifted up their voice, and wept again. 
 And Orpah kissed her mother-in-law ; but Ruth clave unto 
 her. 15 And. she said, Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone 
 back unto her people, and unto her gods : return thou after 
 thy sister-in-law. 16 And Ruth said, Entreat me not to 
 leave thee, or to return from following after thee : fox whith- 
 er thou goest, I will go ; and where thou lodgest, I will 
 lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God : 
 17 Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buri- 
 ed ; the Lord do so to me, and mc?e also, if aught but death 
 part thee and me. 18 When she saw that she was sted- 
 fastly minded to go with her, then she left speaking unto 
 her. 
 
 19 So they two went until they came to Bethlehem. 
 And it came to pass, when they were come to Bethlehem, 
 that all the city was moved about them, and they said, Is 
 this Naomi ? 20 And she said unto them, Call me not 
 Naomi, call me Mara : for the 'Almighty hath dealt very 
 bitterly with me. 21 I went out full, and the Lord hath 
 brought me home again empty : why then call ye me Nao- 
 mi, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and the Al- 
 mighty hath afflicted me? 22 So Naomi returned, and 
 Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, with her, which 
 returned out of the country of Moab : and they came to 
 Bethlehem in the beginning of barley-harvest. 
 
 35. Influence of education, constitution, and circumstan- 
 ces informing character. 
 
 He has seen but little of life, who does not discern 
 
 every where the effects of education on men's opinions 
 
 and habits of thinking. Two children bring out of 
 
 the nursery that, which, displays itself throughout their 
 
 5 lives. And who is the man that can rise above his dis- 
 
Ex. 35.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 273 
 
 pensation, and can say, " You have been teaching me 
 
 nonsense .' 
 
 As to constitution — look at Martin Luther : we may 
 see the man every day : his eyes, and nose, and mouth at- 
 
 10 test his character. Look at Melancthon : he is like a snail 
 with his couple of horns : he puts out his horns and feels 
 — and feels — and feels. No education could have render- 
 ed these two men alike. Their difference began in the 
 womb. Luther dashes in saying his things : Melanc- 
 
 15 thon must go round about — he must consider what the 
 Greek says, and what the Syriac says. Some men are 
 born minute men — lexicographers — of a German char- 
 acter : they will hunt through libraries to rectify a sylla- 
 ble. Other men are born keen as a razOr ; they have 
 
 20 a sharp, severe, strong acumen : they cut every thing 
 to pieces : their minds are like a case of instruments ; 
 touch which you will, it wounds ; they crucify a mod- 
 est man. Such men should aim at a right knowledge 
 of character. If they attained this, they would find out 
 
 25 the sin that easily besets them. The greater the capac- 
 ity of such men, the greater their cruelty. They ought 
 to blunt their instruments. They ought to keep them 
 in a case. Other men are ambitious — fond of power : 
 pride and power give a velocity to their motions. Oth- 
 
 30 ers are born with a quiet, retiring mind. Some are nat- 
 urally fierce, and others naturally mild and placable. 
 Men often take to themselves great credit for what 
 they owe entirely to nature. If we would judge right- 
 ly, we should see that narrowness or expansion of mind, 
 
 35 niggardliness or generosity, delicacy or boldness, have 
 less of merit or demerit than we commonly assign to 
 them. 
 
 Circumstances, also, are not sufficiently taken into 
 the account, when we estimate character. For exam- 
 
 40 pie — we generally censure the Reformers and Puritans 
 as dogmatical, morose, systematic men. But, it is easi- 
 er to walk on a road, than to form that road. Other 
 men labored, and we have entered into their labors. In a 
 fine day, I can walk abroad ; but, in a rough and stormy 
 
 45 day, I should find it another thing to turn coachman 
 and dare all weathers. These men had to bear the bur- 
 
274 exercises. [Ex. 36. 
 
 den and heat of the day : they had to fight against hard 
 times : they had to stand up against learning and pow- 
 er. Their times were not like ours : a man may now 
 
 50 think what he will, and nobody cares what he thinks. 
 A man of that school was, of course stiff, rigid, unyield- 
 ing. Tuckney was such a man : Whichcot was for 
 smoothing things, and walked abroad. We see circum- 
 stances operating in many other ways. A minister un- 
 
 55 married, and the same man married, are very different 
 men. A minister in a small parish, and the same man 
 in a large sphere where his sides are spurred and goad- 
 ed, are very different men. A minister on tenter-hooks 
 — harassed — schooled, and the same man nursed — cher- 
 
 60 ished — put into a hot-house, are very different men. 
 Some of us are hot-house plants. We grow tall . not 
 better — not stronger. Talents are among the circum- 
 stances which form the diversity of character. A man 
 of talents feels his own powers, and throws himself into 
 
 65 that line which he can pursue with most success. Sau- 
 rin felt that he could flourish — lighten — thunder — en- 
 chant, like a magician. Every one should seriously 
 consider, how far his talents and turn of mind and cir- 
 cumstances divert him out of the right road. Cecil. 
 
 4 
 36. Death of Absalom. 
 
 2 Sam. xviii. — 19 Then said Ahimaaz the son of Zadok, 
 Let me now run, and bear the king tidings, how that the 
 Lord hath avenged him of his enemies. 20 And Joab said 
 unto him. Thou shalt not bear tidings this day, but thou 
 shalt bear tidings another day : but this day thou shalt bear 
 no tidings, because the king's son is dead. 21 Then said 
 Joab to Cushi, Go, tell the king what thou hast seen. And 
 Cushi bowed himself unto Joab, and ran. 22 Then said 
 Ahimaaz the son of Zadok yet again to Joab, But howso- 
 ever, let me, I pray thee, also run after Cushi. And Joab 
 said. Wherefore wilt thou run, my son, seeing that thou 
 hast no tidings ready 1 23 But howsoever, said he, let me 
 run. And he said unto him, Run. Then Ahimaaz ran 
 by the way of the plain, and overran Cushi. 24 And Da- 
 vid sat between the two gates ; and the watchman went up 
 
Ex. 37.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 275 
 
 to the roof over the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his 
 eyes, and looked, and behold a man running alone. 25 And 
 the watchman cried, and told the king. And the king said, 
 If he be alone there is tidings in his mouth. And he came 
 apace, and drew near. 26 And the watchman saw another 
 man running : and the watchman called unto the porter, 
 and said, Behold, another man running alone. And the 
 king said, He also bringeth tidings. 27 And the watch- 
 man said, Methinketh the running of the foremost is like 
 the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok. And the king 
 said, He is a good man, and cometh with good tidings. 
 28 And Ahimaaz called, and said unto the king, All is well. 
 And he fell down to the earth upon his face before the king, 
 and said, Blessed be the Lord thy God, which hath deliver- 
 ed up the men that lifted up their hand against my lord the 
 king. 29 And the king said, Is the young man Absalom 
 safe 1 Ahimaaz answered, When Joab sent the king's ser- 
 vant, and me thy servant, I saw a great tumult, but I knew 
 not what it was. 30 And the king said unto him, Turn 
 aside, and stand here. And he turned aside, and stood 
 still. 31 And behold, Cushi came ; and .Cushi said, Tid- 
 ings, my lord the king ; for the Lord hath avenged thee 
 this day of all them that rose up against thee. 32 And the 
 king said unto Cushi, Is the young man Absalom safe ? 
 And Cushi answered, The enemies of my lord the king, 
 and all that rise against thee to do the hurt, be as that 
 young man is. 
 
 33 And the king was much moved, and went up to the 
 chamber over the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he 
 said, O my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! would 
 God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son ! 
 
 37, Hamlet and Horatio. 
 
 Hor. Hail to your lordship ! 
 
 Ham. I am glad to see you well : {approaches.) 
 
 Horatio ! or I do forget myself. 
 
 Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. 
 5 Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that name 
 with you. 
 And what makes you from Wittenberg, Horatio 1 
 
27G exercises. [Ex. o7. 
 
 Hor. A truant disposition, good, my lord. 
 
 Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so ! 
 10 Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, 
 To make it truster of your own report 
 Against yourself. I know you are no truant : 
 But what is your affair in Elsineur ? 
 We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. 
 15 Hor. My lord, I come to see your father's funeral. 
 
 Ham. I pray thee do not mock me, fellow-student ; 
 I think it was to see my mother's wedding. 
 
 Hor. Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon. 
 
 Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio ; the funeral baked meats 
 *20 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
 Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven, 
 Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio ! 
 My father ^Methinks I see my father 
 
 Hor. Where, my lord ? 
 25 Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 
 
 Hor. I saw him once, he was a goodly king. 
 
 Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, 
 I shall not look upon his like again. 
 
 Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. 
 30 Ham. Saw! who? 
 
 Hor. My lord, the king, your father. 
 
 Ham. The "king, my father ! 
 
 Hor. Season your admiration for a while, 
 With an attent ear ; till I shall deliver. 
 35 Upon the witness of these gentlemen, 
 This marvel to you. 
 
 Ham. For heaven's love, let me hear. 
 
 Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen, 
 Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, 
 40 In the dead waste and middle of the night, 
 
 Been thus encountered : a figure like your father, 
 Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pie,' 
 Appears before them, and, with solemn march, 
 Goes slow and stately by them ; thrice he walked 
 45 By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes, 
 
 Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they (distilled 
 Almost to jelly with the act of fear) 
 Stand dumb, and speak not to him. 
 
Ex. S7.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 277 
 
 Ham. But where was this 1 
 50 Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. 
 Ham. Did you hot speak to it ? 
 Hor. My lord, I did ; 
 But answer made it none. Yet once, methought 
 It lifted up its head, and did address 
 55 Itself to motion, like as it would speak ; 
 But even then the morning cock crew loud, 
 And, at the sound, it shrunk in haste away, 
 And vanished from our sight. 
 Ham. 'Tis very strange ! 
 60 Hor. As I do live, my honoured lord, 'tis true ; 
 And we did think it writ down in our duty 
 To let you know of it. 
 
 Ham. Indeed, indeed, Sir, but this troubles me, 
 Hold you the watch to-night ? 
 65 Hor. We do, my lord. 
 Ham. Armed, say you ? 
 Hor. Armed, my lord. 
 Ham. From top to toe ? 
 Hor. My lord, from head to foot. 
 70 Ham. Then saw you not his face. 
 
 Hor. O yes, my lord : he wore his beaver up. 
 Ham. What, looked he frowningly 1 
 Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. 
 Ham. Pale, or red ? 
 75 Hor. Nay, very pale. 
 
 Ham. And fixed his eyes upon you ? 
 Hor. Most constantly. 
 Ham. I would I had been there ! 
 Hor. It would have much amazed you. 
 80 Ham. Very like, very like ; staid it long 1 
 
 Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hun- 
 dred. 
 Ham. His beard was grizzled ? — no ?— - 
 Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
 85 A sable silvered. 
 
 Ham. I'll watch to-night ; perchance 'twill walk again, 
 Hor. I warrant 'twill. • 
 Ham. If it assume my father's person, 
 24 
 
278 exercises. [Ex. 38. 
 
 I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape, 
 90 And bid me hold my peace. I pray you, sir, 
 
 If you have hitherto concealed this sight, 
 
 Let it be tenable in your silence still ; 
 
 And whatsoever else shall hap to night, 
 
 Give it an understanding, but no tongue : 
 95 I will requite your love : so fare you well. 
 
 Upon the platform 'twixt eleven Und twelve 
 
 I'll visit you. Shalcspeare. 
 
 38. An idea of faith impressed on a child. 
 
 Children are very early capable of impression. I im- 
 printed on my daughter the idea of fa'ith, at a very early 
 age. She was playing one day with a few, beads, which 
 seemed to delight her wonderfully. Her whole soul 
 5 was absorbed in her beads. I said — " My dear, you 
 have some pretty beads there." — " Yes, Papa !" — " And 
 you seem to be vastly pleased with them." — " Yes, 
 Papa !" — " Well now, throw 'em behind the fire." The 
 tears started into her eyes. She looked earnestly at 
 
 10 me, as though she ought to have a reason for such a 
 cruel sacrifice. " Well, my dear, do as you please : 
 but you know I never told you to do any thing, which 
 I did not think would be good for you." She look- 
 ed at me a few moments longer, and then — summon- 
 
 15 ing up all her fortitude— her breast heaving with the 
 effort — she dashed them into the fire. — " Well," said 
 I ; " there let them lie, you shall hear more about them 
 another time ; but say no more about them now." 
 Some days after, I bought her a box full of larger beads, 
 
 20 and toys of the same kind. When I returned home, I 
 opened the treasure and set it before her : she burst 
 into tears with ecstacy. "Those, my child," said I, 
 " are yours : because you believed me, when I told you 
 it would be better for you to throw those two or three 
 
 25 paltry beads behind the fire. Now that has brought 
 you .this treasure. But now, my dear, remember, as 
 long as you live, what Faith is. I did all this to teach 
 you the meaning of Faith. You threw your beads 
 away when I bid you, because you had faith in me, that 
 
Ex. 39, 40.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 279 
 
 30 I never advised you but for your good. Put the same 
 confidence in God. Believe every thing that he says 
 in his word.. Whether you understand it or not, have 
 faith in him that he means your good." Cecil. 
 
 39. . Conversation. 
 
 Dubius is such a scrupulous good man — 
 
 Yes — you may catch him tripping if you can. 
 
 He would not, with a peremptory tone, 
 
 Assert the nose upon his face his own ; 
 5 With hesitation admirably slow, 
 
 He humbly hopes — presumes — it may be so. 
 
 His evidence, if he were called by law 
 
 To swear to some enormity he saw, 
 
 For want of prominence and just relief, 
 10 Would hang an honest man, and save a thief. 
 
 Through constant dread of giving truth offence,. 
 
 He ties up all his hearers in suspense ; 
 
 Knows, what he knows, as if he knew it not ; 
 
 What he remembers, seems to have forgot ; 
 15 His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall, 
 
 Centering at last in having none at aH. 
 
 Yet, though he tease and baulk your. listening ear. 
 
 He makes one useful point exceeding cjear ; 
 
 Howe'er ingenious on his darling theme 
 •20 A sceptic in philosophy may seem, 
 
 Reduced to practice, his beloved rule 
 
 Would only prove him a consummate fool ; 
 
 Useless in him alike both brain and speech, 
 
 Fate having placed all truth above his reach, 
 25 His ambiguities his total sum, 
 
 He might as well be blind, and deaf, and dumb. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 40. Conversation. 
 
 Some fretful tempers wince at every touch, 
 You always do too little or too much : 
 You speak with life, in hopes to entertain, 
 Your elevated voice goes through the brain : 
 
280 EXERCI9E9. [Ex. 46. 
 
 5 You fall at once into a lower key, 
 
 That's worse — the drone-pipe of an humblebee. 
 
 The southern sash admits too strong alight, 
 
 You rise and drop the curtain — now 'tis night. 
 
 He shakes with cold — you stir the fire and strive 
 10 To make a blaze — that's roasting him alive. 
 
 Serve him with venison, and he chooses fish ; 
 
 With soal — that's just the sort he does not wish. 
 
 He takes what he at first professed to loath, 
 
 And in due time feeds heartily on both ; 
 15 Yet still, o'erclouded with a constant frown, 
 
 He does not swallow, but he gulps it down. 
 
 Your hope to please him vain on every plan, 
 
 Himself should work that wonder, if he can — 
 
 Alas ! his efforts double his distress, 
 20 He likes yours little, and his own still less. 
 
 Thus always teasing others, always teased. 
 
 His only pleasure is — to be displeased. 
 I pity bashful men, who feel the pain 
 
 Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, 
 25 And bear the marks upon a blushing face 
 
 Of needless shame, and self-imposed disgrace. 
 
 Our sensibilities are so acute, 
 
 The fear of being silent makes us mute. 
 
 We sometimes think we could a speech produce 
 
 39 Much to the purpose, if our tongues were loose ; 
 But being tried, it dies upon the lip, 
 
 Faint as a chicken's note that has the pip : 
 Our wasted oil unprofitably burns, 
 Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns. 
 35 The circle formed, we sit in silent state, 
 Like figures drawn upon a dial plate ; 
 Yes ma'am, and no ma'am, uttered softly, show 
 Every five minutes how the minutes go ; 
 Each individual, suffering a constraint 
 
 40 Poetry may, but colours cannot paint ; 
 As if in close committee on the sky, 
 Reports it hot or cold, or wet or dry ; 
 And finds a changing clime a happy source 
 Of wise reflection, and well timed discourse. 
 
 45 We next inquire, but softly and by stealth. 
 
Ex.41.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 281 
 
 Like conservators of the public health, 
 
 Of epidemic throats, if such there are, 
 
 And coughs, and rheums, and phthisic, and catarrh. 
 
 That theme exhausted, a wide chasm ensues, 
 
 50 Filled up at last with interesting news, 
 
 Who danced with whom, and who are like to wed. 
 And who is hanged, and who is brought to bed : 
 But fear to call a more important cause, 
 As if 'twere treason against English laws. 
 
 55 The visit paid, with ecstasy we come, 
 
 As from a seven years transportation, home, 
 And there resume an unembarrassed brow, 
 Recovering what we lost we know not how, 
 
 60 The faculties, that seemed reduced to nought, . 
 Expression and the privilege of thought. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 41. Lady Percy to her husband. 
 
 Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
 Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ; 
 And start so often when thou sit'st alone 1 
 Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
 5 And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, 
 To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy 1 
 In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, 
 And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars : 
 Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
 
 10 Cry, Courage! — to the field! And thou hast talkM 
 Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents, 
 Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ; 
 Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; 
 Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain, 
 
 15 And all the 'currents of a heady fight. 
 
 Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
 And thus hast so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
 That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
 Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream ; 
 
 20 And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 
 Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
 24* • 
 
282 exercises. [Ex. 42. 
 
 On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are 
 
 these ? 
 Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 '25 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 42. The exercise of the Memory in learning not sufficient. 
 
 To learn, seems, with many, to imply no more than 
 a bare exercise of memory. To read, and to remember 
 is, they imagine, all they have to do. I affirm on the 
 contrary that a great deal more is necessary, as to exer- 
 
 5 cise the judgment and the discursive faculty. I shall 
 put the case, that one were employed to teach you alge- 
 bra ; and instead of instructing you in the manner of 
 stating and resolving algebraic equations, he should 
 think it incumbent on him, only to inform you of all the 
 
 JO principal problems, that had at any time exercised the 
 art of the most famous algebraists, and the solutions 
 they had given ; and being possessed of a retentive me- 
 mory, I shall suppose, you have a distinct remembrance 
 both of the questions and the answers ; could ye for 
 
 15 this, be said to have learnt algebra 1 No, surely. To 
 teach you that ingenious and useful art, is to instruct 
 you in those principles, by the proper application of 
 which, you shall be enabled to solve the questions for 
 yourselves. In like manner, to teach you to understand 
 
 20 the scriptures, is to initiate you into those general prin- 
 ciples, which will gradually enable you of yourselves, 
 to enter into their sense and spirit. It is not to make 
 you repeat by rote the judgments of others, but to 
 bring you to form judgments of your own ; to see with 
 
 25 your own eyes, and not with other people's. I shall 
 conclude this prelection with the. translation of a short 
 passage from the Persian letters, which falls in entirely 
 with my present subject. Rica having been to visit 
 the library of a French convent, writes thus to his friend 
 
 30 in Persia concerning what had passed. Father, said I 
 to the librarian, what are these huge volumes which fill 
 the whole side of the library ? These, said he, are the 
 Interpreters of the scriptures. There is a prodigious 
 
Ex.43.*J FAMILIAR PIECES. 283 
 
 number of them, replied I ; the scriptures must have 
 
 35 been very dark formerly and very clear at present. 
 Do there remain still any doubts? Afe -there now any 
 points contested ? Are there, answered he with sur- 
 prise, Are there ? There are almost as many as there 
 are lines. You astonish me, said I, what then have all 
 
 40 these authors been doing ? These authors, returned 
 he, never searched the scriptures, for what ought to be 
 believed, but for what they did believe themselves. 
 They did not consider them as a book, wherein were 
 contained the doctrines which they ought to receive, 
 
 45 but as a work which might be made to authorize their 
 own ideas. For this reason, they have corrupted all 
 the meanings, and have put every passage to the tor- 
 ture, to make it speak their own sense. 5 Tis a country 
 whereon people of all sects make invasions, and go for 
 
 50 pillage • it is a field of battle, where when hostile na- 
 tions meet, they engage, attack and skirmish in a thou- 
 sand different ways. Campbell* 
 
 43. Report of an adjudged case. 
 
 1 Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose ; 
 
 The spectacles set them unhappily wrong ; 
 The point in dispute was, as all the world knows, 
 To which the said spectacles ought to belong. 
 
 2 So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause, 
 
 With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning, 
 "While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, 
 So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. 
 
 3 " In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, 
 
 And your lordship" he .said " will undoubtedly find, 
 That the Nose has had spectacles always to wear, 
 Which amounts to possession time out of mind." 
 
 4 Then holding the spectacles up to the court- 
 
 Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle, 
 As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ! in short, 
 Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. 
 
284 exercises. [Ex. 44. 
 
 5 " Again, would your worship a moment suppose 
 
 ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again) 
 That the visage or countenance had not a Nose 
 
 Pray, who would, or who could, wear spectacles then 1 
 
 6 " On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, 
 
 With a reasoning the court will never condemn, 
 That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, 
 And the Nose was as plainly intended for them." 
 
 7 Then, shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how) 
 
 He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes : 
 But what were his arguments few people know, 
 For the court did not think they were equally wise. 
 
 8 So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone, 
 
 Decisive and clear, without one if or but — 
 That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, 
 
 By day-light or candle-light, — Eyes should be shut ! 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 44. Fitz James and Roderick Dhu. 
 
 With cautious step, and ear awake, 
 
 He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 
 
 And not the summer solstice, there, 
 
 Temper'd the midnight mountain air, 
 5 But every breeze that swept the wold, 
 
 Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. 
 
 In dread, in danger, and alone, 
 
 Famish'd and chilled, through ways unknown. 
 
 Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 
 10 Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 
 
 A watch-fire close before him burned. 
 
 Beside its embers red and clear, 
 
 Basked, in his plaid a mountaineer ; 
 
 And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 
 15 " Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand !" — 
 
 " A stranger." — " What dost thou require ?" — 
 
 " Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 
 
 My life's beset, my path is lost, 
 
 The gale has chilled my limbs with frost." — 
 
Ex.45.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 285 
 
 " Art thou a friend to Roderick ?"— " No." 
 
 " Thou darest not call thyself a foe ?" — 
 
 " I dare ! to him and all the band 
 
 He brings to aid his murderous hand." — 
 
 " Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 
 
 The privilege of chase may claim, 
 
 Though space and law the stag we lend, 
 
 Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, 
 
 Who ever reck'd, where, how, or when, 
 
 The prowling fox was trapped or slain ! 
 
 Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 
 
 Who say thou earnest a secret spy !" — 
 
 " They do, by heaven ! — Come Roderick Dhiij 
 
 And of his clan the boldest two, 
 
 And let me but till morning rest 
 
 I write the falsehood on their crest."— 
 
 " If by the blaze I mark aright, 
 
 Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." 
 
 " Then, by these tokens may'st thou know, 
 
 Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." — 
 
 " Enough, enough ; sit down and share 
 
 A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." Scott. 
 
 45. Address to the Mummy. 
 
 And thou hast walk'd about (how strange a story !) 
 In Thebes's streets three thousand yearsago, 
 
 When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 
 And time had not begun to overthrow 
 
 Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
 
 Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 
 
 Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted Dummy, 
 Thou hast a tongue — come let us hear its tune : 
 
 Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy ! 
 Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, 
 
 Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 
 
 But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features. 
 
 Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect, 
 
 To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame ? 
 Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 
 
286 exercises. [Ex. 45. 
 
 Of either Pyramid that bears his name ? 
 Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? 
 Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 
 
 4 Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 
 By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade, 
 Then say what secret melody was hidden 
 
 In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played ? 
 Perhaps thou wert a Priest — if so, my struggles 
 Are vain ; — Egyptian priests ne'er owned their juggles. 
 
 & Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 
 Has hob-a-nobb'd with Pharaoh glass to glass ; 
 Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, 
 
 Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, 
 Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 
 A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 
 
 6 I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 
 
 Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled, 
 For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, 
 
 Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : — 
 Antiquity appears to have begun 
 Long after thy primeval race was run. 
 
 7 Since first thy form was in this box extended, 
 
 We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ; 
 The Roman empire has begun and ended ; 
 
 New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations, 
 And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 
 While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 
 
 8 Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head 
 
 When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 
 March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 
 
 O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 
 And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder, 
 When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 
 
 9 If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 
 
 The nature of thy private life unfold : — 
 A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, 
 And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled : — 
 
Ex. 46.] FAMILIAR PIECF.S. 287 
 
 Have children climb'd those knees, and kissed that face ? 
 What was thy name and station, age and race 1 
 
 10 Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead ! 
 
 Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
 Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, 
 
 And standest undecayed within our presence, 
 Thou wilt hear nothing till the. Judgment morning, 
 When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 
 
 11 Why should this worthless tegument endure, 
 
 If its undying guest be lost for ever? 
 O let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 
 
 In living virtue ; that when both must sever, 
 Although corruption may our frame consume, 
 Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 
 
 46. Othello and Iago. 
 
 Iago. My noble lord 
 
 Oth. What. dost thou say, Iago ? 
 Iago. Did Michael Cassio, when you wooed my Lady, 
 Know of your love ? 
 5 Oth. He did from first to last : why dost thou ask ? 
 Iago. But for a satisfaction of my thought, 
 No farther harm. 
 
 Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago 1 
 Iago. I did not think he'd been acquainted with it. 
 10 Oth. O yes, and went between us very oft. 
 Iago. Indeed ! 
 
 Oth. Indeed ! ay, indeed. Discern'st thou aught in 
 that ? 
 Is he not honest ? 
 15 Iago. Honest, my lord ? 
 Oth. Honest ! ay, honest. 
 Iago. My lord, for aught I know. 
 Oth. What dost thou think ? 
 logo. Think, my lord ! 
 20 Oth. Think ! my lord ! Why, thou echo'st me, 
 As if there were some monster in thy thought 
 Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something ; 
 
288 exercises. [Ex. 46. 
 
 I heard thee say but now, " thou lik'dst not that," 
 
 When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like ? 
 
 25 And when I told thee, he was of my counsel, 
 
 In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst, " Indeed !" 
 And didst contract and purse thy brow together, 
 As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain 
 Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, 
 
 30 Show me thy thought. 
 
 Iago. My lord, you know I love you. 
 Oth. I think thou dost : 
 And, for I know, thou art full of love and honesty, 
 And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath, 
 
 35 Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more : 
 For such things, in a false, disloyal knave, 
 Are tricks of custom ; but in a man that's just, 
 They're cold dilations working from the heart, 
 That passion cannot rule. 
 
 40 Iago. For Michael Cassio, 
 
 I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. 
 Oth. I think so too. 
 Iago. Men should be what they seem ; 
 Or, those that be not, would they might seem knaves. 
 
 45 Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem. 
 
 Iago. Why, then I think Cassio's an honest man. 
 Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this : 
 I pray thee speak to me as to thy thinkings ; 
 As thou dost ruminate ; and give thy worst of thoughts 
 
 50 The worst of words. 
 
 Iago. Good, my lord, pardon me ; 
 Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
 I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 
 Utter my thoughts !— Why, say, they're vile and false ; 
 
 55 As where's that place, whereinto foul things 
 
 Sometimes intrude not ? Who has a breast so pure 
 
 But some uncleanly apprehensions 
 
 Keep leets and law-days, and in sessions sit 
 
 With meditations lawful ? Shakspeare. 
 
Ex. 47.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 289 
 
 47. Macduff. 
 
 Macd. See, who comes here ! 
 Mai. My countryman ; but yet I know him not. 
 Maccl. My ever gentle cousin, welcome hither, 
 Mai. I know him now. Pray heaven, betimes remove 
 5 The means that make us strangers ! 
 Rosse. Sir, Amen. 
 
 Maccl. Stands Scotland where it did ? 
 Rosse. Alas, poor country, 
 Almost afraid to know itself, It cannot 
 10 Be called our mother, but our grave ; where nothing, 
 But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ; 
 Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend the air, 
 Are made, not marked ; where violent sorrow seems 
 A modern ecstasy ; the dead man's knell 
 15 Is there scarce asked for whom : and good .men's lives 
 Expire before the flowers in their caps, 
 Dying or e'er they sicken. 
 
 Macd. Oh, relation 
 Too nice, and yet too true ! 
 20 Mai. What is the newest grief? 
 
 Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker. 
 Each minute teems a new one. 
 Macd. How does my wife 1 
 
 Rosse. Why, well. 
 
 25 Macd. And all my children ? 
 Rosse. Well too. 
 
 Macd. The tyrant has not battered at their peace ? 
 Rosse. No ; they were well at peace when I did leave 
 
 them. 
 Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: how goes it ? 
 
 30 Rosse. I have words 
 
 That should be howled out in the desert air, 
 Where hearing would not catch them. 
 
 Macd. What concern they 1 
 The general cause ? or is it a fee grief, 
 35 Due to some single breast 1 
 
 Rosse. No mind that's honest, 
 But in it shares some wo ; though the main part. 
 Pertains to you alone. 
 25 
 
290 exercises. [Ex. 48. 
 
 Macd. If it be mine, 
 40 Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 
 
 Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue forever, 
 Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound, 
 That ever yet they heard. 
 Macd. Ah ! I guess at it. 
 45 Rosse. Your castle is surprised, your wife and babes 
 Savagely slaughtered ! to relate the manner, 
 Were on the quarry of these murdered deer 
 To add the death of you. 
 Mai. Merciful Heaven ! 
 50 What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows, 
 Give sorrow words ! the grief that does not speak, 
 Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. 
 
 Macd. My children too 1- 
 
 Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all that could be 
 found. 
 55 Macd. And I must be from thence ! my wife killed 
 too? 
 Rosse. I have said. 
 Mai. Be comforted. 
 Let 's make us medicines of our great revenge, 
 To cure this deadly grief. 
 60 Macd. I shall do so ; 
 
 But I must also feel it as a man. 
 I cannot but remember such things were, 
 That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, 
 And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, 
 65 They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am, 
 Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
 Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now ! 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 48. William Tell 
 
 Gesler, the tyrant. Sarnem, his officer, and William Tell, a Swiss peasant. 
 
 Sar. Down, slave, upon thy knees before the governor, 
 And beg for mercy. 
 Ges. Does he hear ? 
 
 Sar. He does, but braves thy power. [To Tell.} 
 Down, slave, 
 And ask for life. . 
 
Ex. 48.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 291 
 
 5 Ges. [To Tell] Why speakest thou not. 
 Tell. For Wonder. 
 Ges. Wonder? 
 
 Tell Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man. 
 Ges. What should I seem 1 
 10 Tell. A monster. 
 
 Ges. Ha! Beware! — think on thy chains. 
 Tell Though they were doubled, and did weigh me 
 down 
 Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up 
 Erect, with nothing but the honest pride 
 15 Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth, 
 
 Thou art a monster. — Think on my chains ! 
 How came they on me ? 
 
 Ges. Darest thou question me 1 
 Tell. Darest thou answer ? 
 20 Ges. Beware my vengeance. 
 Tell. Can it more than kill ? 
 Ges. And is not that enough ? 
 Tell. No, not enough : — 
 It cannot take away the grace of life — 
 *25 The comeliness of look that virtue gives — 
 Its port erect, with consciousness of truth — 
 Its rich attire of honourable deeds — 
 Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues : — 
 It cannot lay its hand on these, no more 
 30 Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun, 
 Or with polluted finger tarnish it. 
 Ges. But it can make thee writhe. 
 Tell. It may, and I may say, 
 Go on, though it should make me groan again. 
 35 Ges. Whence comest thou? 
 Tell. From the mountains. 
 Ges. Canst tell me any news from them ? 
 Tell. Ay ; — they watch no more the avalanche. 
 Ges. Why so ? 
 40 Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane 
 Comes unawares upon them ; from its bed 
 The torrent breaks, and finds them .in its track. 
 Ges. What then? 
 
2 { J2 exercises. [Ex. 4S. 
 
 45 Tell. They thank kind Providence it is not thou. 
 Thou hast perverted nature in them. The earth 
 Presents her fruits to them, and is not thanked. 
 The harvest sun is constant, and they scarce 
 Return his smile. Their flocks and herds increase, 
 50 And they look on as men who count a loss. 
 
 There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but 
 The thought of thee doth wither to a curse, 
 As something they must lose, and had far better 
 Lack. 
 55 Ges. 'Tis well. I'd have them as their hills 
 That never smile, though wanton summer tempt 
 Them e'er so much. 
 
 Tell. But they do sometimes smile. 
 Ges. Ah ! — when is that ? 
 60 Tell. When they do pray for vengeance. 
 Ges. Dare they pray for that ? 
 Tell. They dare, and they expect it, too.- 
 Ges. From whence ? 
 
 Tell. From Heaven, and their true hearts. 
 05 Ges. [ To Sarnem,] Lead in his son. Now will I take 
 Exquisite vengeance. [ To Tell, as the hoy enters.] I have 
 
 destined him 
 To die along with thee. 
 
 Tell. To die ! for what ? he's but a child. 
 70 Ges. He's thine, however. 
 Tell. He is an only child. 
 Ges. So much the easier to crush the race. 
 Tell. He may have a mother. 
 Ges. So the viper hath— 
 75 And yet who spares it for the mother's sake ? 
 
 Tell. I talk to stone. I'll talk to it no more. 
 Come, my boy, I taught thee how to live, — 
 I'll teach thee — how to die. 
 
 Ges. But first, I'd see thee make 
 80 A trial of thy skill with that same bow. 
 Thy arrows never miss, 'tis said. 
 Tell. What is the trial ? 
 
 Ges. Thou look'st upon thy boy as though thou gues- 
 sest it. 
 85 Tell Look upon my boy ! What mean you ? 
 
EX.48.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 293 
 
 Look upon my boy as though I guessed it ! — 
 Guessed the trial thou'dst have me make ! — 
 Guessed it instinctively ! Thou dost not mean — 
 No, no — Thou wouldst not have me make 
 90 A trial of my skill upon my child ! — 
 Impossible ! I do not guess thy meaning. 
 
 Ges. I'd see thee hit an apple on his head, 
 Three hundred paces off. 
 Tell. Great Heaven ! 
 95 Ges. On this condition only will I spare 
 His life and thine. 
 
 Till. Ferocious monster ! make a father 
 Murder his own child ! 
 Ges. Dost thou consent 1 
 
 100 Tell. With his own hand ! 
 
 The hand I've led him when an infant by ! 
 My hands are free from blood, and have no gust 
 For it, that they should drink my child's. 
 I'll not murder my boy, for Gesler. 
 105 Boy. You will not hit me, father. You'll be sur-e 
 To hit the apple. Will you not save me, father ? 
 Tell. Lead me forth — I'll make the trial. 
 
 Boy. Father 
 
 Tell. Speak not to me ; — 
 110 Let me not hear thy voice — Thou must be dumb ; 
 And so should all things be — Earth should be dumb, 
 And Heaven, unless its thunder muttered at 
 The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it. — 
 Give me my bow and quiver. 
 115 Ges. When all is ready. Sarnem measure hence 
 The distance — three hundred paces. 
 Tell Will he do it fairly ? 
 Ges. What is 't to thee, fairly or not 1 
 Tell, [sarcastically.] O, nothing, a little thing, 
 120 A very little thing, I only shoot 
 At my child ! 
 
 [Sarnem prepares to measure.] 
 Tell Villain, stop ! You measure against the sun. 
 Ges. And what of that? 
 125 What matter whether to or from the sun ? 
 25* 
 
 
294 exercises. [Ex. 48.. 
 
 Tell. I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine 
 Upon the mark and not on him that shoots — 
 I will not shoot against the sun. 
 
 Ges. Give him his way. [Sarnem paces and goes out.] 
 130 Tell. I should like to see the apple I must hit. 
 
 Ges. [Picks out the smallest one.] There, take that. 
 Tell. You've picked the smallest one. 
 Ges. I know I have. Thy skill will be 
 The greater if thou hittest it. 
 135 Tell, [sarcastically.] True — true ! I did not think 
 of that. 
 I wonder I did not think of that. A larger one 
 Had given me a chance to save my boy. — 
 Give me my bow. Let me see my quiver. 
 140 Ges. Give him a single arrow, [to an attendant.] 
 [ Tell looks at it and breaks it.] 
 Tell. Let me see my quiver. It is not 
 One arrow in a dozen I would use 
 To shoot with at a dove, much less a dove 
 145 Like that. 
 
 Ges. Show him the quiver. 
 [Sarnem returns and takes the apple and the boy to 
 place them. While this is doing Tell conceals an 
 arrow under his garment. He then selects another 
 150 arrow and says] 
 
 Tell. Is the boy ready ? Keep silence now 
 For Heaven's sake, and be my witnesses, 
 That if his life's in peril from my hand, 
 'Tis only for the chance of saving it. 
 155 For mercy's sake keep motionless and silent. 
 
 [He aims and shoots in the direction of the boy. In a 
 moment Sarnem enters with the apple on the arroio's 
 
 point.] 
 Sarnem. The boy is safe. 
 160 Tell. [Raising his arms.] Thank Heaven ! 
 
 [As he raises his arms the concealed arrow falls.] 
 Ges. [Picking it up.] Unequalled archer ! why was 
 
 this concealed 1 
 Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy. 
 
Ex. 49, 50.] FAMILIAR riECES. 21? 
 
 49. Nathan's Parable. 
 
 And the Lord sent Nathan unto David ; and he went 
 unto him, and said unto him : 
 
 11 There were two men in one city ; the one rich, and 
 the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many 
 
 5 docks and herds : But the poor man had nothing, save 
 one little ewe lamb, which he had nourished and brought 
 up ; and it grew up together with him, and with his 
 children ; it did eat of his own meat, and drank his own 
 cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 10 " And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and 
 he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd, 
 to dress for the wayfaring man that was come unto him ; 
 but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the 
 man that was come unto him." 
 
 15 And David's anger was greatly kindled against the 
 man ; and he said to Nathan ; 
 
 " As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this 
 thing shall surely die ; And he shall restore the lamb 
 fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had 
 
 20 no pity." 
 
 And Nathan said unto David, " Thou art the man." 
 
 50. Harmony among brethren. 
 
 Two brothers, named Timon and Demetrius, having 
 quarrelled with each other, Socrates, their common 
 friend, was solicitous to restore amity between them. 
 Meeting, therefore, with Demetrius, he thus accosted 
 5 him: " Is not friendship the sweetest solace in adver- 
 sity, and the greatest enhancement of the blessings of 
 prosperity ?" " Certainly it is," replied Demetrius ; 
 u because our sorrows are diminished, and our joys in- 
 creased, by sympathetic participation." " Amongst 
 10 whom, then, must we look for a friend 1" said Socrates : 
 " Would you search among strangers 1 They cannot 
 be interested about you. Amongst your rivals ? They 
 have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those 
 who are much older, or younger than yourself] Their 
 
296 exercises. [Ex. 50. 
 
 20 feelings and pursuits will be widely different from yours. 
 Are there not, then, some circumstances favourable, 
 and others essential, to the formation of friendship ?" 
 " Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius. " May 
 we not enumerate," continued Socrates, '* amongst the 
 
 25 circumstances favourable to friendship, long acquain- 
 tance, common connexions, similitude of age, and union 
 of interest 1" " I acknowledge," said Demetrius, " the 
 powerful influence of these circumstances : but they 
 may subsist, and yet others be wanting, that are essen- 
 
 30 tial to mutual amity." "And what," said Socrates, " are 
 those essentials which are wanting in Timon ?" " He 
 has forfeited my esteem and attachment," answered 
 Demetrius. " And has he also forfeited the esteem and 
 attachment of the rest of mankind V continued Socra- 
 
 35 tes. " Is he devoid of benevolence, generosity, grati- 
 tude, and other social affections V '* Far be it from 
 me," cried Demetrius, " to lay so heavy a charge upon 
 him. His conduct to others, is, I believe, irreproacha- 
 ble ; and it wounds me the more, that he should single 
 
 40 me out as the object of his unkindness." " Suppose 
 you have a very valuable horse," resumed Socrates, 
 " gentle under the treatment of others, but ungoverna- 
 ble, when you attempt to use him ; would you not en- 
 deavour, by all means, to conciliate his affection, and 
 
 45 to treat him in the way most likely to render him trac- 
 table? — Or, if you have a dog, highly prized for his 
 fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your flocks, who is 
 fond of your shepherds, and playful with them, and yet 
 snarls whenever you come in his way ; would you at- 
 
 50 tempt to cure him of his fault, by angry looks or words, 
 or by any other marks of resentment ? You would sure- 
 ly pursue an opposite course with him. And is not the 
 friendship of a brother of far more worth, than the ser- 
 vices of a horse, or the attachment of a dog ? Why, 
 
 55 then, do you delay to put in practice those means, which 
 may reconcile you to Timon ?" " Acquaint me with 
 those means," answered Demetrius, " for I am a stran- 
 ger to them." " Answer me a few questions," said So- 
 crates. «' If you desire, that one of your neighbours 
 
Ex.51.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 297 
 
 ()0 should invite you to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, 
 what course would you take V — " I would first invite 
 him to mine." *' And how would you induce him to 
 take the charge of your affairs, when you are on a jour- 
 ney ?" — " I should be forward to do the same good 
 
 (55 office to him, in his absence." " If you be solicitous 
 to remove a prejudice, which he may have received 
 against you, how would you then behave towards him ?" 
 — " I should endeavour to convince him, by my looks, 
 words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill-founded." 
 
 70 " And if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would 
 you reproach him with the injustice he had done you V 
 — "No," answered Demetrius; "I would repeat no 
 grievances." " Go," said Socrates, " and pursue that 
 conduct towards your brother, which you would prac- 
 
 75 tise to a neighbour. His friendship is of inestimable 
 worth ; and nothing is more lovely in the sight of Heav- 
 en, than for brethren to dwell together in unity." 
 
 Percival. 
 
 51. Harley's Death. 
 
 There are some remembrances (said Harley) which 
 rise involuntarily on my heart, and make me almost 
 wish to live. I have been blessed with a few friends, 
 who redeem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with 
 5 the tenderest emotion, the scenes of pleasure I have 
 passed among them — but we shall meet again, my friend, 
 never to be separated. There are some feelings which 
 perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the world. The 
 world, in general, is selfish, interested, and unthinking, 
 
 10 and throws the imputation of romance, or melancholy, 
 on every temper more susceptible than its own. I can- 
 not but think, in those regions which I contemplate, if 
 there is any thing of mortality left about us, that these 
 feelings will subsist : — they are called — perhaps they 
 
 15 are — weaknesses, here ;■ — but there may be some better 
 modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve the 
 name of virtues." He sighed, as he spoke these last 
 words. He had scarcely finished them, when the door 
 opened, and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton 
 
298 exercises. [Ex.51. 
 
 20 " My dear (says she) here is Miss Walton, who has 
 been so kind as to come and inquire for you herself." 
 I could perceive a transient glow upon his face. He 
 rose from his seat. — " If to know Miss Walton's good- 
 ness (said he) be a title to deserve it, I have some 
 
 25 claim." She begged him to resume his seat, and plac- 
 ed herself on the sofa beside him. I took my leave. 
 His aunt accompanied me to the door. He was left 
 with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously after 
 his health. "I believe (said he) from the accounts 
 
 30 which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have 
 no great hopes of my recovery." — She started, as he 
 spoke ; but, recollecting herself immediately, endeav- 
 oured to flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions 
 were groundless. "I know (said he) that it is usual 
 
 •35 with persons at my time of life, to have these hopes 
 which your kindness suggests ; out I would not wish to 
 be deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a 
 privilege bestowed on few : I would endeavour to make 
 it mine : — nor do I think, that I can ever be better pre- 
 
 40 pared for it than now : — 'tis that chiefly which deter- 
 mines the fitness of its approach." " Those sentiments," 
 answered Miss Walton, " are just ; but your good sense, 
 Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value. — 
 As the province of virtue, life is ennobled ; as such, it 
 
 45 is to be desired. — To virtue has the Supreme Director 
 of all things assigned rewards enough, even here, to fix 
 its attachments." 
 
 The subject began to overpower her. — Harley lifted 
 up his eyes from the ground — "There are (said he, 
 in a low voice) — there are attachments, Miss Walton." 
 
 50 — His glance met hers — they both betrayed a confu- 
 sion, and were both instantly withdrawn. — He paused 
 some moments. — " I am (he said) in such a state as 
 calls for sincerity : let that alone excuse it — it is, per- 
 haps, the last time we shall ever meet. I feel some- 
 
 55 thing particularly solemn in the acknowledgment ; yet 
 my heart swells to make it, awed as it is by a sense of 
 my presumption,— by a sense of your perfections." — He 
 paused again — " Let it not offend you, (he resumed.) 
 
Ex. 52.] FAMILIAR PIECES. 299 
 
 to know their power over one so unworthy. My heart 
 
 60 will, I believe, soon cease to beat, even with that feel- 
 ing which it shall lose the latest. — To love Miss Walton 
 could not be a crime. — If to declare it is one, the ex- 
 piation will be made." Her tears were now flowing 
 without control. — " Let me entreat you (said she to 
 
 65 have better hopes — let not life be so indifferent to you ; 
 if my wishes can put any value upon it — I will not pre- 
 tend to misunderstand you — I know your worth — I have 
 long known it — I have esteemed it — what would you 
 have me say ? — I have loved it, as it deserved !" He 
 
 70 seized her hand : — a languid colour reddened his cheek 
 — a smile brightened faintly in his eye. As he gazed 
 on her, it grew dim, it fixed, it closed — he sighed, and 
 fell back on his seat — Miss Walton screamed at the 
 sight — his aunt and the servants rushed into the room 
 
 75 — they found them lying motionless together. — His phy- 
 sician happened to call at that instant — every art was 
 tried to recover them — with Miss Walton they succeed- 
 ed — but Harley was gone for ever ! 
 
 Mackenzie. 
 
 52. To-Morrow. 
 
 1 To-morrow, didst thou say ? 
 
 Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow. 
 Go to — I will not hear of it — To-morrow ! 
 'Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury 
 5 Against thy plenty— who takes thy ready cash, 
 
 And pays thee nought, but wishes, hopes, and promises, 
 The currency of idiots — injurious bankrupt, 
 That gulls the easy creditor ! — To-morrow ! 
 It is a period no where to be found 
 
 10 In all the hoary registers of Time, 
 
 Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. 
 Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society 
 With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 
 'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father ; 
 
 15 Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and as baseless 
 As the fantastic visions of the evening. 
 
 But soft, my friend — arrest the present moment : 
 
300 exercises. [Ex. 25. 
 
 For be assur'd they all are arrant tell tales : 
 And though their flight be silent, and their path 
 
 20 Trackless, as the wing'd couriers of the air, 
 
 They post to heaven, and there record thy folly, 
 Because, though station'd on th' important watch, 
 Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel, 
 Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd. 
 
 25 And know, for that thou slumb'rest on the guard, 
 Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 
 For every fugitive : and when thou thus 
 Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 
 Of hood-wink'd Justice, who shall tell thy audit 1 
 
 30 Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio, 
 Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 
 'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 
 Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. 
 O ! let it not elude thy grasp ; but, like 
 
 35 The good old patriarch upon record, 
 
 Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee. 
 
 Cotton:- 
 
SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 
 
 •53. The Perfect Orator. 
 
 Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes, addressing the 
 most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point 
 whereon the fate of the most illustrious of nations de- 
 pended — How awful such a meeting ! how vast the sub- 
 
 5 j ec t !— Is man possessed of talents adequate to the great 
 occasion 1 — Adequate ! Yes, superior. By the power 
 of his eloquence, the augustness of the assembly is lost 
 in the dignity of the orator ; and the importance of the 
 subject, for a while, superseded by the admiration of 
 
 10 his talents. With what strength of argument, with what 
 powers of the fancy, with what emotions of the heart, 
 does he assault and subjugate the whole man ; and, at 
 once, captivate his reason, his imagination, and his pas- 
 sions ! To effect this, must be the utmost effort of 
 
 15 the most improved state of human nature. — Not a fac- 
 ulty that he possesses, is here unemployed ; not a fac- 
 ulty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest 
 pitch. All his internal powers are at work ; all his ex- 
 ternal, testify their energies. Within, the memory, the 
 
 20 fancy, the judgment, the passions, are all busy : with- 
 out, every muscle, every nerve is exerted ; not a fea- 
 ture, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the body, 
 attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kin- 
 dred organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those 
 
 25 energies from soul to soul. Notwithstanding the diver- 
 sity of minds in such a multitude ; by the lightning of 
 eloquence, they are melted into one mass — the whole 
 assembly, actuated in one and the same way, become, 
 as it were, but one man, and have but one voice — The 
 
 30 universal cry is — Let us march against Philip, let 
 
 CS FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES LET US CONQUER OR DIE I 
 
 Sheridan. 
 26 
 
302 exercises. [Ex. 54, 55. 
 
 54. Character of True Eloquence. 
 
 When public bodies are to be addressed on momen- 
 tous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and 
 strong passions excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, 
 farther than it is connected with high intellectual and 
 
 5 moral endowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness 
 are the qualities which produce conviction. True elo- 
 quence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot 
 be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for 
 it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may 
 
 10 be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. 
 It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the oc- 
 casion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp 
 of declamation, all may aspire after it — they cannot reach 
 it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of 
 
 15 a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of vol- 
 canic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. 
 The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, 
 and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust 
 men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, 
 
 *20 their children, and their country, hang on the decision 
 of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhet- 
 oric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Ev- 
 en genius itself then- feels rebuked, and subdued, as in 
 the presence of higher qualities. Then, patriotism is 
 
 25 eloquent ; then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear 
 conception, out-running the deductions of logic, the 
 high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, 
 speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, inform- 
 ing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 
 
 30 right onward to his object — this, this is eloquence ; or 
 rather it is something greater and higher than all elo- 
 quence, it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action. 
 
 Webster. 
 
 55. The Pilgrims. 
 
 From the dark portals of the star chamber, and in 
 the stern text of the acts of uniformity, the pilgrims 
 received a commission, more efficient, than any that 
 
EX.55.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 303 
 
 ever bore the royal seal. Their banishment to Hol- 
 
 5 land was fortunate ; the decline of their little company 
 iu, the strange land was fortunate ; the difficulties 
 which they experienced in getting the royal consent 
 to banish themselves to this wilderness were fortunate ; 
 all the tears and heartbreakings of that ever memo- 
 
 10 ruble parting at Delfthaven, had the happiest influence 
 on the rising destinies of New England. All this pu- 
 rified the ranks of the settlers. These rough touches 
 of fortune brushed off the light, uncertain, selfish spir- 
 its. They made it a grave, solemn, self-denying ex- 
 
 15 pedition, and required of those who engaged in it to be 
 so too. They cast a broad shadow of thought and seri- 
 ousness over the cause, and if this sometimes deepened 
 into melancholy and bitterness, can we find no apol- 
 ogy for such a human weakness ? 
 
 20 Their trials of wandering and exile, of the ocean, 
 the winter, the wilderness, and the savage foe, were 
 the final assurances of success. It was these that put 
 far away from our fathers' cause, all patrician softness, 
 all hereditary claims to preeminence. No effeminate 
 
 25 nobility crowded into the dark and austere ranks of 
 the pilgrims. No Carr nor Villiers would lead on the 
 ill provided band of despised Puritans. No well endow- 
 ed clergy were on the alert, to quit their cathedrals, 
 and set up a pompous hierarchy in the frozen wilder- 
 
 30 ness. No craving governors were anxious to be sent 
 over to our cheerless El Dorados of ice and of snow. 
 No, they could not say they had encouraged, patronis- 
 ed, or helped the pilgrims ; their own cares, their own 
 labours, their own councils, their own blood, contrived 
 
 35 all. achieved all, bore all, sealed all. They could not af- 
 terwards fairly pretend to reap where they had not 
 strewn ; and as our fathers reared this broad and solid 
 fabric with pains and watchfulness, unaided, barely 
 tolerated, it did not fall when the favour, which had al- 
 
 40 ways been withholden, was changed into wrath ; when 
 the arm which had never supported, was raised to de- 
 stroy. 
 
 Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous 
 vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with 
 
304 exercises. [Ex. 55. 
 
 45 the prospects of a future state, and bound across the un- 
 known sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand mis- 
 givings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise 
 and set, and weeks, and months pass, and winter sur- 
 prises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight 
 
 50 of the wished for shore. I see them now scantily sup- 
 plied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in 
 their illstored prison ; — delayed by calms, pursuing a 
 circuitous route, — and now driven in fury before the 
 raging tempest, on the high and giddy waves. The aw- 
 
 55 ful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. The 
 labouring masts seem straining from their base ; — the dis- 
 mal sound of the pumps is heard ; — the ship leaps, as it 
 were, madly, from billow to billow; — the ocean breaks, 
 and settles with ingulphing floods over the floating deck, 
 
 60 and beats with deadening, shivering weight, against the 
 staggered vessel. — I see them, escaped from these perils, 
 pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and land- 
 ed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice clad 
 rocks of Plymouth, — weak and weary from the voyage, 
 
 65 — poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the 
 
 charity of their ship-master for a draught of beer on 
 
 board, drinking nothing but water on shore, — without 
 
 shelter, — without means, — surrounded by hostile tribes. 
 
 Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any 
 
 70 principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of 
 this handful of adventurers. — Tell me, man of military 
 science, in how many months were they all swept off 
 by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the ear- 
 ly limits of New England ? Tell me, politician, how 
 
 75 long did this shadow of a colony, on which your con- 
 ventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the 
 distant coast ? Student of history, compare for me the 
 baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandon- 
 ed adventures of other times, and find the parallel of 
 
 80 this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the house- 
 less heads of women and children ; was it hard labour 
 and spare meals; — was it disease, — was it the toma- 
 hawk,— was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ru- 
 ined enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last 
 
 85 moments at the recollection of the loved and left, be- 
 
Ex. 50.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 305 
 
 yond the sea ; was it some, or all of these united, that 
 hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate ? 
 — And is it possible that neither of these causes, that 
 not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope 1 — 
 00 Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, 
 so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there 
 has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so won- 
 derful, an expansion so ample, a reality so important, 
 a promise, yet to be fulfilled, so glorious ? Everett. 
 
 56. The Progress of Poesy. 
 
 Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep ; 
 
 Isles, that crown the Egean deep ; 
 
 Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, 
 
 Or where Maeander's amber waves 
 5 In ling'ring lab'rinths creep, 
 
 How do your tuneful echoes languish, 
 
 Mute but to the voice of anguish ! 
 
 Where each old poetic mountain 
 
 Inspiration breath'd around ; 
 10 Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain 
 
 Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : 
 
 Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, 
 
 Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains : 
 
 Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant pow'r, 
 15 And coward vice, that revels in her chains. 
 
 When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, 
 
 They sought, O Albion ! next thy sea-encircled coast. 
 Far from the sun and summer gale, 
 
 In thy green lap was nature's darling laid, 
 20 What time, where lucid Avon stray'd, 
 
 To him the mighty mother did unveil 
 
 Her awful face ; the dauntless child 
 
 Stretch'd forth his little arms and smil'd. 
 
 This pencil take, (she said,) whose colours clear 
 25 Richiy paint the vernal year ; 
 
 Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy ! 
 
 This can unlock the gates of joy ; 
 . Of horror, that, and thrilling fears, 
 
 Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. 
 26* 
 
306 exercises. [Ex. 50, 57. 
 
 30 Nor second he, that rode sublime 
 Upon the seraph wings of ecstacy, 
 v The secrets of th' abyss to spy. 
 He pass'd the flaming bounds of space and time, 
 The living throne, the sapphire blaze, 
 35 Where angels tremble while they gaze, 
 He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light, 
 Clos'd his eyes in endless night. 
 Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car 
 Wide o'er the fields of glory bear 
 40 Two coursers of ethereal race, 
 
 With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long resounding pace. 
 
 Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 
 Bright-eyed fancy, hov'ring o'er, 
 Scatters from her pictur'd urn 
 45 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 
 But ah ! 'tis heard no more — 
 O lyre divine ! what daring spirit 
 Wakes thee now ? Though he inherit 
 Nor the pride nor ample pinion, 
 50 That the Theban eagle bear, 
 Sailing with supreme dominion 
 Through the azure deep of air : 
 Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 
 Such forms as glitter in the muse's ray, 
 55 With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun ; 
 Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way 
 Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, 
 Beneath the good how far — but far above the great. 
 
 Gray. 
 
 57. Darkness. 
 
 I had a dream, which was not all a dream. 
 The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars 
 Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
 Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 
 o Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air ; 
 
 Morn came, and went — and came, and brought no day, 
 And men forgot their passions in the dread 
 Of this their desolation ; and all hearts 
 
 i 
 
Ev. 57.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 307 
 
 Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light : 
 
 10 And they did live by watchfires — and the thrones, 
 The palaces of crowned kings — the huts, 
 The habitations of all things which dwell, 
 Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consumed, 
 And men were gather'd round their blazing homes 
 
 15 To look once more into each other's face ; 
 Happy were those who dwelt within the eye 
 Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch : 
 A fearful hope was all the world contain'd ; 
 Forests were set on fire — but hour by hour 
 
 20 They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks • 
 Extinguish'd with a crash — and all was black. 
 The brows of men by the despairing light 
 Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits 
 The flashes fell upon them ; some lay down 
 
 *25 And hid their eyes and wept ; and some did rest 
 Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled ; 
 And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
 Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up 
 With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 
 
 30 The pall of a past world ; and then again 
 With curses cast them down upon the dust, 
 And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd : the wild birds 
 
 shriek'd, 
 And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, 
 And flap their useless wings ; the wildest brutes 
 
 35 Came tame and tremulous ; and vipers crawl'd 
 And twined themselves among the multitude, 
 Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food : 
 And War, which for a moment was no more, 
 Did glut himself again ; — a meal was bought 
 
 40 With blood, and each sate sullenly apart 
 Gorging himself in gloom : no love was left ; 
 All earth was but one thought — and that was death, 
 Immediate and inglorious ; and the pang 
 Of famine fed upon all entrails — men 
 
 45 Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh ; 
 The meagre by the meagre were devour'd, 
 Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, 
 And he was faithful to a corse, and kept 
 
308 EXERCISES. [Ex 
 
 The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, 
 
 50 Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead 
 Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food, 
 But with a piteous and perpetual moan 
 And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand 
 Which answer'd not with a caress — he died. 
 
 55 The crowd was famish'd by degrees ; but two 
 Of an enormous city did survive, 
 And they were enemies ; they met beside 
 The dying embers of an altar-place 
 Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things 
 
 CO For an unholy usage ; they raked up, 
 
 And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands 
 The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath 
 Blew for a little life, and made a flame 
 
 65 Which was a mockery ; then they lifted up 
 Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 
 Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died — 
 Even of their mutual hideousness they died, 
 Unknowing who he was upon whose brow 
 Famine had written Fiend. The world was void, 
 
 70 The populous and the powerful was a lump, 
 
 Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — 
 A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay. 
 The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, 
 And nothing stirred within their silent depths ; 
 
 75 Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, 
 
 And their masts fell down piecemeal ; as they dropp'd 
 They slept on the abyss without a surge — 
 The waves were dead ; the tides were in their grave, 
 The moon their mistress had expired before ; 
 
 80 The winds were wither' d in the stagnant air, 
 And the clouds perish'd : Darkness had no need 
 . Of aid from them — She was the universe. Byron. 
 
 58. The Slave Trade. 
 
 The land is not wholly free from the contamination of 
 a traffic, at which every feeling of humanity must forever 
 revolt — I mean the African slave trade. Neither public 
 sentiment, nor the law, has hitherto been able entirely 
 
 
Ex. 58. J SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 300 
 
 5 to put an end to this odious and abominable trade. At 
 the moment when God, in his mercy, has blessed the 
 Christian world with an universal peace, there is reason 
 to fear, that to the disgrace of the christian name and 
 character, new efforts are making for the extension of 
 
 10 this trade, by subjects and citizens of Christian states, 
 in whose hearts no sentiment of humanity or justice 
 inhabits, and over whom neither the fear of God nor 
 the fear of man exercises a control. In the sight of 
 our law, the African slave trader is a pirate and a felon ; 
 
 15 and in the sight of heaven, an offender far beyond the 
 ordinary depth of human guilt. There is no brighter 
 part of our history, than that which records the meas- 
 ures which have been adopted by the government, at 
 an early day, and at different times since, for the sup- 
 
 20 pression of this traffic ; and I would call on all the true 
 sons of New-England, to co-operate with the laws of 
 man, and the justice of heaven. If there be within the 
 extent of our knowledge or influence, any participation 
 in this traffic, let us pledge ourselves here, to extirpate 
 
 2-5 and destroy it. It is not fit, that the land of the Pil- 
 grims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound 
 of the hammer, I see the smoke of the furnaces where 
 manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. 
 I see the visages of those, who by stealth, and at mid- 
 30 night, labour in this work of hell, foul and dark, as 
 may become the artificers of such instruments of mis- 
 ery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it 
 cease to be of New-England. Let it be purified, or let 
 it be set aside from the Christian world ; let it be put 
 
 35 out of the circle of human sympathies and human re- 
 gards, and let civilized man henceforth have no com- 
 munion with it. 
 
 I would invoke those who fill the seats of justice, 
 and all who minisiter at her altar, that they execute the 
 
 40 wholesome and necessary severity of the law. I invoke 
 the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its de- 
 nunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions 
 to the authority of human laws. If the pulpit be silent, 
 whenever, or wherever, there may be a sinner bloody 
 
 45 with this guilt, within the hearing of its voice, the pul~ 
 
310 exercises. [Ex. 50. 
 
 pit is false to its trust. I call on the fair merchant, who 
 has reaped his harvest upon the seas, that he assist in 
 scourging from those seas the worst pirates which ever 
 infested them. That ocean, which seems to wave with 
 
 50 a gentle magnificence to waft the burdens of an honest 
 commerce, and to roll along its treasures with a con- 
 scious pride ; that ocean, which hardy industry regards, 
 even when the winds have ruffled its surface, as a field 
 of grateful toil ; what is it to the victim of this oppres- 
 
 55 sion, when he is brought to its shores, and looks forth 
 upon it, for the first time, from beneath chains, and 
 bleeding with stripes ? What is it to him, but a wide 
 spread prospect of suffering, anguish, and death ? Nor 
 do the skies smile longer, nor is the air longer fragrant 
 
 GO to him. The sun is cast down from heaven. An in- 
 human and accursed traffic has cut him off in his man- 
 hood, or in his youth, from every enjoyment belonging 
 to his being, and every blessing which his Creator in- 
 tended for him. Webster. 
 
 59. Dream of Clarence. 
 
 O, I have passed a miserable night, 
 
 So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, 
 
 That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 
 
 I would not spend another such a night, 
 5 Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : 
 
 So full of dismal terrour was the time. 
 
 Methought that I had broken from the tower, 
 
 And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, 
 
 And in my company my brother Gloucester, 
 10 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
 
 Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England) 
 
 And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
 
 During the wars of York and Lancaster, 
 
 That had befallen us. As we passed along 
 15 Upon the giddy footing of the hatches^ 
 
 Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling 
 
 Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard, 
 
 Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
 
 O, then methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
 
Ex.59.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 311 
 
 20 What dreadful noise of waters in my ears ! 
 What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
 Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
 A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon ; 
 "Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
 
 ^5 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ; 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 
 Some lay in dead men's sculls ; and in those holes 
 Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, 
 As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 
 
 30 That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, 
 
 And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 
 
 Often did I strive 
 
 To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood 
 Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
 
 35 To find the empty, vast, and wandering air ; 
 But smother'd it within my panting bulk, 
 Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
 
 My dream was lengthened after life ; 
 O. then began the tempest to my soul ; 
 
 40 I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, 
 With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
 Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
 The first that there did greet my stranger-soul, 
 Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 
 
 45 Who cried aloud " What scourge for perjury 
 
 Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence V 
 And so he vanished. Then came wandering by 
 A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
 Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud 
 
 50 " Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, 
 That stabbed me in the field by Tewsbury ; 
 
 Seize on him, furies! take him to your torments !" 
 
 With that, methought a legion of foul fiends 
 Environed me, and howled into mine ears 
 
 '55 Such hideous cries, that with the very noise 
 I trembling waked ; and for a season after 
 Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
 Such terrible impression made my dream. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
312 exercises. [Ex. GO. 
 
 60. Moral Sublimit ij. 
 What can strive 
 
 With virtue 1 which of nature's regions vast 
 Can in so many forms produce to sight 
 Such powerful beauty 1 beauty which the eye 
 
 5 Of hatred cannot look upon secure : 
 
 Which envy's self contemplates, and is turned 
 Ere long to tenderness, to infant smiles, 
 Or tears of humblest love. Is aught so fair 
 In all the dewy landscapes of the spring, 
 
 10 The summer's noontide groves, the purple eve 
 At harvest home, or in the frosty moon 
 Glittering on some smooth sea, is aught so fair 
 As virtuous friendship : as the honoured roof 
 Whither from highest heaven immortal love 
 
 15 His torch ethereal and his golden bow 
 
 Propitious brings, and there a temple holds 
 To whose unspotted service gladly vowed 
 The social band of parent, brother, child, 
 With smiles and sweet discourse and gentle deeds 
 
 20 Adore his power ? What gift of richest clime 
 E'er drew such eager eyes, or prompted such 
 Deep wishes, as the zeal that snathes back 
 From slander's poisonous tooth a foe's renown ; 
 Or crosseth danger in his lion walk, 
 
 25 A rival's life to rescue ? as the young 
 Athenian warrior sitting down in bonds, 
 That his great father's body might not want 
 A peaceful, humble tomb ? the Roman wife 
 Teaching her lord how harmless was the wound 
 
 30 Of death, how impotent the tyrant's rage, 
 Who nothing more could threaten to afflict 
 Their faithful love 1 Or is there in the abyss, 
 Is there, among the adamantine spheres 
 Wheeling unshaken through the boundless void. 
 
 35 Aught that with half such majesty can fill 
 The human bosom, as when Brutus rose 
 Refulgent, from the stroke of Caesar's fate 
 Amid the crowd of patriots : and, his arm 
 
Ex. 61.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 313 
 
 Aloft extending, like eternal Jove 
 When guilt brings down the thunder, called aloud 
 40 On Tully's name, and shook the crimson sword 
 Of justice in his wrapt astonished eye, 
 And bade the father of his country hail, 
 For lo the tyrant prostrate on the dust — 
 And Rome again is free ? Akensidc. 
 
 61. Character of Brutus. 
 
 Ask any one man of morals, whether he approves 
 of assassination ; he will answer, No. .Would you kill 
 your friend and benefactor 1 No. The question is a 
 horrible insult. Would you practise hypocrisy and 
 5 smile in his face, while your conspiracy is ripening, to 
 gain his confidence and to lull him into security, in or- 
 der to take away his life ? Every honest man, on the 
 bare suggestion, feels his blood thicken and stagnate at 
 his heart. Yet in this picture we see Brutus. It would, 
 
 10 perhaps, be scarcely just to hold him up to abhorrence; 
 it is, certainly, monstrous and absurd to exhibit his con- 
 duct to admiration. 
 
 He did not strike the tyrant from- hatred or ambition ; 
 his motives were admitted to be good ; but was not the 
 
 15 action nevertheless, bad ? 
 
 To kill a tyrant, is as much murder, as to kill any 
 other man. Besides, Brutus, to extenuate the crime, 
 could have had no rational hope of putting an end to 
 the tyranny ; he had foreseen and provided nothing to 
 
 20 realize it. The conspirators relied, foolishly enough, 
 on the love of the multitude for liberty — they loved their 
 safety, their ease, their sjports, and their demagogue 
 favourites a great deal better. They quietly looked on, 
 as spectators, and left it to the legions of Anthony, and 
 
 25 Octavius, and to those of Syria, Macedonia, and Greece, 
 to decide, in the field of Phillippi, whether there should 
 be a republic or not. It was accordingly, decided in 
 favour of an' emperor ; and the people sincerely rejoiced 
 in the political calm, that restored the games of the cir- 
 
 30 cus, and the plenty of bread. 
 
 27 
 
314 exercises. [Ex.61. 
 
 Those, who cannot bring .their judgments to condemn 
 the killing of a tyrant, must nevertheless agree that the 
 blood of Caesar was unprofitably shed. Liberty gained 
 nothing by it, and humanity lost much ; for it cost eigh- 
 
 35 teen years of agitation and' civil war, before the ambi- 
 tion of the military and popular chieftains had expend- 
 ed its means, and the power was concentred in one 
 man's hands. 
 
 Shall we be told, the example of Brutus is a good one, 
 
 40 because it will never cease to animate, the race of ty- 
 rant-killers — But will the fancied usefulness of assassin- 
 ation overcome our instinctive sense of its horror ? Is 
 it to become a part of our political morals, that the chief 
 of a state is to be stabbed or poisoned, whenever a fan- 
 
 45 atick, a malecontent, or a reformer shall rise up and 
 call him a tyrant ? Then there would be as little calm 
 in despotism as in liberty. 
 
 But when has it happened, that the death of an Usurp- 
 er has restored to the public liberty its departed life ? 
 
 50 Every successful usurpation creates many competitors 
 for power, and they successively fall in the struggle. 
 In all this agitation, liberty is without friends, without 
 resources, and without hope. Blood enough, and the 
 blood of tyrants too, was shed between the time of the 
 
 55 wars of Marius and death of Anthony, a period of about 
 sixty years, to turn a common grist-mill ; yet the cause 
 of the public liberty continually grew more and more 
 desperate. It is not by destroying tyrants, that we are 
 to extinguish tyranny ; nature is not thus to be exhaust- 
 
 60 ed of her power to produce them. The soil of a repub- 
 lic sprouts with the rankest fertility ; it has been sown 
 with dragon's teeth. To lessen the hopes of usurping 
 demagogues, we must enlighten, animate and combine 
 the spirit of freemen ; we must fortify and guard the 
 
 65 Constitutional ramparts about liberty. When its friends 
 become indolent or disheartened, it is no longer of any 
 importance how long-lived axe its enemies : they will 
 prove immortal. 
 
 Ames. 
 
Ex. 62.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 315 
 
 (r2. Conclusion of Webster's Plymouth Discourse. 
 
 The hours of this day are rapidly flying, and this oc- 
 casion will soon be passed. Neither we nor our chil- 
 dren can expect to behold its return. They are in the 
 distant regions of futurity, they exist only in the all- 
 > creating power of God, who shall stand here, a hundred 
 years hence, to trace, through us, their descent from the 
 Pilgrims, and to survey, as we have now surveyed, the 
 progress of their country, during the lapse of a century. 
 We would anticipate their concurrence with us in our 
 
 10 sentiments of deep regard for our common ancestors. 
 We would anticipate and partake . the pleasure with 
 which they will then recount the steps of New-England's 
 advancement. On the morning of that day, although it 
 will not disturb us in our repose, the voice of acclama- 
 
 15 tion and gratitude, commencing on the Rock of Ply- 
 mouth, shall be transmitted through millions of the sons 
 erf the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in the murmurs of the 
 Pacific seas. 
 
 We would leave for the consideration of those who 
 
 '20 shall then occupy our places, some proof that we hold 
 the blessings transmitted from our fathers in just esti- 
 mation ; some proof of our attachment to the cause of 
 "good government, and of civil and religious liberty ; 
 some proof of a sincere and ardent desire to promote 
 
 35 every thing which may enlarge the understandings and 
 improve the hearts of men. And when, from the long 
 distance of an hundred years, they shall look back upon 
 us, they shall know, at least, that we possessed affec- 
 tions, which' running backward, and warming with 
 
 30 gratitude for what our ancestors have done for our hap- 
 piness, run forward also to our posterity, and meet them 
 with cordial salutation, ere yet they have arrived on the 
 shore of Being. 
 
 Advance, then, ye future generations ! We would 
 
 35 hail you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the 
 places which we. now fill, and to taste the blessings of 
 existence, where we are passing, and soon shall have 
 passed, our own human duration. We bid you wel- 
 come to this' pleasant land of the Fathers. We bid vou 
 
-JJ() exercises. [Ex. 63. 
 
 40 welcome to the healthful skies, and the verdant fields 
 of New-England. We greet your accession to the great 
 inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you 
 to the blessings of good government, and religious lib- 
 erty. We welcome you to the treasures of science, and 
 
 45 the delights of learning. We welcome you to the trans- 
 cendant sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of 
 kindred, and parents, and children. We welcome you 
 to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the 
 immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlast- 
 
 50 ing Truth ! 
 
 63. Address to tlie Patriots of the Revolution. 
 
 Venerable men ! you have come down to us, from 
 a former generation. Heaven has bounteously length- 
 ened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous 
 day. You are now, where you stood, fifty years ago, 
 5 this very hour, with your brothers, and your neighbours, 
 shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country. 
 Behold, how altered ! The same heavens are indeed 
 over your heads ; the same ocean rolls at your feet ; 
 but all else, how changed ! You hear now no roar of 
 
 10 hostile cannon, you see no mixed volumes of smoke and 
 flame rising from burning Charlestown. The ground 
 strewed with the dead and the dying ; the impetuous 
 charge ; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud 
 call to repeated assault ; the summoning of all that is 
 
 15 manly to repeated resistance ; a thousand bosoms free- 
 ly and fearlessly bared in an instant to whatever of ter- 
 ror there may be in war and death ; — all these you have 
 witnessed, but you witness them no more. All is 
 peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers 
 
 20 and roofs, which you then saw filled with wives and 
 
 children and countrymen in distress and terror, and 
 
 looking with unutterable emotions for the issue of the 
 
 • combat, have presented you. to-clay with the sight of its 
 
 whole happy population, come out to welcome and 
 
 25 greet you w r ith an universal jubilee. Yonder proud 
 ships, by a felicity of position appropriately lying at the 
 
Ex. G4.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 317 
 
 foot of this mount, and seeming fondly to cling around 
 it, are not means of annoyance to you, but your coun- 
 try's own means of distinction and defence. All is 
 
 30 peace ; and God has granted you this sight of your 
 country's happiness, ere you slumber in the grave for- 
 ever. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the 
 reward of your patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, 
 your sons and countrymen, to meet you here, and in the 
 
 35 name of the present generation, in the name of your 
 country, in the name of liberty, to thank you ! 
 
 But, alas ! you are not all here ! Time and the 
 sword have thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, 
 Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek 
 
 40 for you in vain amidst* this broken band. You are 
 gathered to your fathers, and live only to your country 
 in her grateful remembrance, and your own bright ex- 
 ample. But let us not too much grieve, that you have 
 met the common fate of men. You lived, at least, long 
 
 45 enough to know that your work had been nobly and 
 successfully accomplished. You lived to see your coun- 
 try's independence established, and to sheathe your 
 swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise 
 the light of Peace," like' 
 
 1 another morn, 
 Risen on mid-noon ;' — 
 
 and the sky, on which you closed your eyes, was cloud- 
 less. Webster. 
 
 64. Brutus 1 Speech. 
 
 Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my 
 cause ; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me 
 for mine honour ; and have respect to mine honour, that 
 you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom ; and 
 
 5 awake your senses, that you may the better judge. — If 
 there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, 
 to him, I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less 
 than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose 
 against Caesar, this is my answer : Not that I loved 
 
 10 Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you 
 
318 exercises. [Ex. 65. 
 
 rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves ; than that 
 Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Caesar loved 
 me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at 
 it ; as he was valiant, I honour him ; but as he was 
 
 15 ambitious, I slew him. There are tears, for his love ; 
 joy, for his fortune ; honour, for his valour ; and death, 
 for his ambition. — Who's here so base that would be a 
 bondman ? if any, speak ; for him have I offended. 
 Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? if 
 
 20 any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so 
 vile, that will not love his country ? if any, speak ; 
 for him have I offended. — I pause for a reply : — 
 None ! Then none have I offended. — I have done no 
 
 25 more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The ques- 
 tion of his death is enrolled in the capital ; his glory not 
 extenuated, wherein he was worthy ; nor his offences 
 enforced, for which he suffered death. 
 
 Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony ; 
 
 30 who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive 
 — the benefit of his dying — a place in the common- 
 wealth ; as which of you shall not 1 — With this I depart ; 
 that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I 
 have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please 
 
 35 my country to need my death. Shahspeare. 
 
 65. Chatham's Speech. 
 
 Almost for the last time, lord Chatham displayed his 
 admirable eloquence in opposing the address moved in 
 the house of lords, on his late majesty's speech from 
 the throne in 1778. Some censure having been ex- 
 5 pressed on the employing of savages against the armies 
 of the insurgent Americans, the measure was defended 
 by his majesty's ministers ; and the pompous Suffolk, 
 as he is described by Junius, declared that " adminis- 
 tration would have been highly reprehensible, if, en- 
 10 trusted as they were with the suppression of so unnatu- 
 ral a rebellion, they had not used all the means to sup- 
 press it which God and Nature had put into their 
 hands." — Lord Chatham rose, and said : 
 
 My lords, — I cannot, — I will not join in congratula- 
 
Ex.65.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 3l9 
 
 15 tion on misfortune and disgrace. This, is a perilous 
 aud tremendous moment — it is not a time for adulation 
 — the smoothness of flattery cannot save us in this rug- 
 ged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct 
 the throne in the language of truth. We must, if pos- 
 
 20 sible, dispel the delusion and darkness which envelope 
 it ; and display in its full danger and genuine colours 
 the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can ministers 
 still presume to expect support in their infatuation ? 
 Can parliament be so dead to their dignity and duty, 
 
 25 as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and 
 forced upon them ? Measures, which have reduced 
 this late flourishing empire to scorn and contempt. 
 
 But, who is the man, that, in addition to the disgrac- 
 es and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and 
 
 30 associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife 
 of the savage 1 to call into civilized alliance the wild 
 and' inhuman inhabitant of the woods ? to delegate to 
 the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and 
 to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our 
 
 35 brethren ? this barbarous measure has been defended, 
 not only on the principles of policy and necessity, but 
 also on those of morality ; ' for it is perfectly allowable,' 
 says lord Suffolk, ' to use all the means God and Nature 
 have put into our hands !' I am astonished, 1 am 
 
 40 shocked, to hear such principles confessed, to hear them 
 avowed in the house, or this country. My lords, I did 
 not intend to encroach so much on your attention ; but 
 I cannot repress my indignation ; I feel myself impelled 
 to speak. We are called upon as members of this house, 
 
 45 as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible 
 barbarity— ' that God and Nature have put into our 
 hands!' .What ideas of God and Nature that noble 
 lord may entertain, I know not ; but I know that such 
 detestable principles are equally abhorrent to religion 
 
 50 and humanity. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction 
 of God and Nature to the massacres of the Indian scalp- 
 ing-knife ! to the cannibal savage, torturing, murder- 
 ing, devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled vic- 
 tims ! Such notions shock every precept of morality, 
 
320 exercises. [Ex. Co. 
 
 55 every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honour. 
 These abominable principles, and this most abominable 
 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 support 
 
 60 the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to 
 interpose the sanctity 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 main- 
 
 65 tain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity 
 
 of my country to vindicate the national character. I 
 
 invoke the Genius of the Constitution. From the tap- 
 
 • estry, that adorn these walls, the immortal ancestor of 
 
 ' this noble lord frowns with indignation at the disgrace 
 
 70 of his country. In vain did he defend the liberty, and 
 establish the religion of Britain, against the tyranny of 
 Rome, if these worse than popish cruelties and inquisi- 
 torial practices are endured among us. To send forth 
 the merciless cannibal, thirsting for blood ! against 
 
 75 whom ? your protestant brethren ! To lay waste their 
 
 country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their 
 
 race and name by the aid and instrumentality of these 
 
 •horrible hell-hounds of war ! Spain can no longer boast 
 
 pre-eminence in barbarity. She armed herself with 
 
 80 blood hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of Mex- 
 ico ; we, more ruthless, loose these dogs of war against 
 our countrymen in America, endeared to us by every 
 tie, that can sanctify humanity. I solemnly call upon 
 your lordships, and upon every order of men in the state, 
 
 85 to stamp upon this infamous procedure the indelible 
 stigma of public abhorrence. More particularly, I call 
 upon the holy prelates of our religion to do away this 
 iniquity ; let them perform a lustration to purify the 
 country from this deep and deadly sin. 
 
 66. Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis. 
 
 England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile, 
 with bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more 
 proud and firm in this youthful land, than where she 
 
Ex.66.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 321 
 
 • treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches her- 
 
 5 self among the magnificent mountains of Switzerland. 
 Arbitrary principles, like those, against which we now 
 contend, have cost one king of England his life, anoth- 
 er his crown — and they may yet cost a third his most 
 flourishing colonies. ' 
 
 10 We are two millions — one fifth fighting men. We 
 are bold and vigorous, — and we call no man master. 
 To the nation, from whom we are proud to derive our 
 origin, we ever were, and we ever will be, ready to 
 yield unforced assistance ; but it must not, and it never 
 
 15 can be extorted. 
 
 Some have sneeringly asked, " Are the Americans 
 too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper V No ! 
 America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the 
 right to take ten pounds, implies the right to take a 
 
 20 thousand ,' and what must be the wealth, that avarice, 
 aided by power, cannot exhaust ? True the spectre is 
 now small ; but the shadow he casts before him, is huge 
 enough to darken all this fair land. 
 
 Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt 
 
 •2-5 of gratitude, which we owe to England. And what is 
 the amount of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same 
 that the young lion owes to the dam, which has brought 
 it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid 
 the winds and storms of the desert. 
 
 30 We plunged into the wave, with the great charter 
 of freedom in our teeth, because, the faggot and torch 
 were behind us. We have waked this new world from 
 its savage lethargy ; forests have been prostrated in our 
 path ; towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the 
 
 'So flowers of the tropicks, and the fires in our autumnal 
 woods are scarcely more rapid, than the increase of our 
 wealth and population. 
 
 And do we owe all this to the kind succour of the 
 mother country 1 No ! we owe it to the tyranny, that 
 
 40 drove us from her, — to the pelting storms, which invig- 
 orated our helpless infancy. 
 
 But perhaps others will say " We ask no money from 
 your gratitude,— we only demand that you should pay 
 
322 exercises. [Ex. 67. 
 
 your own expenses." And who I pray, is to judge of 
 
 45 their necessity 1 Why, the King — (and with all due 
 reverence to his sacred majesty, he understands the real 
 wants of his distant subjects, as little as he does the 
 language of the Choctaws.) Who is to judge concern- 
 ing the frequency of these demands ? The ministry. 
 
 ■50 Who is to judge whether the money is properly expen- 
 ded ? The cabinet behind the throne. 
 
 In every instance, those who take, are to judge for 
 those who pay ; if this system is suffered to go into ope- 
 ration, we shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, 
 
 55 that rain and dew do not depend upon parliament ; oth- 
 erwise they would soon be taxed Mid dried. 
 
 But thanks to God, there is .reedom enough left upon 
 earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of 
 liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the 
 
 60 light of its glowing embers is still bright and strong on 
 the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influ- 
 ence, we will resist unto death. But we will not coun- 
 tenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs, that a des- 
 perate community have heaped upon their enemies, 
 
 65 shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be 
 well for some proud men to remember, that a fire is 
 lighted in these colonies, which one breath of their king 
 may kindle into such fury that the blood of all England 
 cannot extinguish it. 
 
 67. Pitt's reply to Walpole. 
 Sir, 
 The atrocious crime of being a young man, which 
 the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and de- 
 cency, charged upon me I shall neither attempt to palli- 
 ate, nor deny, — but content myself with wishing that I 
 5 may be one of those whose follies may cease with their 
 youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite 
 of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to any 
 man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume the province 
 of determining ; — but surely age may become justly con- 
 10 temptible, if the opportunities which it brings have past 
 tiway without improvement, and vice appears to prevail. 
 
Ex. 67.] SECULAR. ELOQUENCE. 323 
 
 when the passions have subsided. The wretch who 
 after having seen the consequences of a thousand er- 
 rors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has on- 
 
 15 ly added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of 
 either abhorrence or contempt, and deserves "not that 
 his grey hairs should secure him from insult. Much 
 more, sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he advanced in 
 age, has receded from virtue, and becomes more wicked 
 
 20 with less temptation ; — who prostitutes himself for mon- 
 ey which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of. 
 his life in the ruin of his country. But youth, sir, is 
 not my only crime ; I have been accused of acting a 
 theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply 
 
 25 some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my 
 real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and 
 language of another man. 
 
 In the first sense, sir, the charge is too trifling to be 
 confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned to be depis- 
 
 30 ed. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my 
 own language ; and though, perhaps I may have some 
 ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay my- 
 self under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his 
 diction, or his mien, however matured by age, or mod- 
 
 •35 elled by experience. If any man shall, by charging me 
 with theatrical behaviour, imply that I utter any senti- 
 ments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator 
 and a villain ; — nor shall any protection shelter him from 
 the treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occa- 
 
 40 sion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with 
 which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, — nor 
 shall any thing but age restrain my resentment ; — age, 
 which always brings one privilege, that of being inso- 
 lent and supercilious without punishment. But with 
 
 45 regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of 
 opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should 
 have avoided their censure : the heat that offended 
 them is the ardour of conviction, and that zeal for the 
 service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall 
 
 50 influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned 
 while my liberty is invaded, nor look in silence upon 
 
324 exercise. [Ex. G8. 
 
 public robbery. I will exert my endeavours at whatever 
 hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to jus- 
 tice,— ^w hoe ver may protect them in their villany — and, 
 55 whoever may partake of their plunder. 
 
 G8. Speech of Mr. Griffin against Chcetham. 
 
 . I am one of those who believe that the heart of the 
 wilful and the deliberate libeller is blacker than that of 
 the high-way robber, or of one who commits the crime of 
 midnight arson. The man who plunders on the high- 
 
 5 way, may have the semblance of an apology for what he 
 does. An affectionate wife may demand subsistence : 
 a circle of helpless children raise to him the supplicat- 
 ing hand for food. He may be driven to the desperate 
 act by the high mandate of imperative necessity. The 
 
 10 mild features of the husband and the father may inter- 
 mingle with those of the robber and soften the rough-* 
 ness of the shade. But the robber of character plun- 
 ders that which " not enricheth him," though it makes 
 his neighbour " poor indeed." — The man who. at the 
 
 15 midnight hour consumes his neighbour's dwelling, does 
 him an injury which perhaps is not irreparable. Indus- 
 try may rear another habitation. The storm may in- 
 deed descend upon him until charity opens a neighbour- 
 ing door : the rude winds of heaven may whistle around 
 
 20 his uncovered family. But he looks forward to better 
 days : he has yet a tjook left to hang a hope on. No 
 such consolation cheers the heart of him whose charac- 
 ter has been torn from him. If innocent he may look, 
 like Anaxagoras, to the Heavens ; but he must be con- 
 
 25 strained to feel this world is to him a wilderness. For 
 whither shall he go 1 Shall he dedicate himself to the 
 service of his country ? But will his country receive 
 him ? Will she employ in her councils, or in her arm- 
 ies, the man at whom the " slow unmoving finger of 
 
 30 scorn" is pointed 1 Shall he betake himself to the 
 fire-side ? The story of his disgrace will enter his 
 own doors before him. And can he bear, think 
 you, can he bear the sympathising agonies of a dis- 
 
Ex. C)S.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 325 
 
 tressed wife 1 Can he endure the formidable presence 
 
 35 of scrutinizing sneering domestics 1 Will hi^rchildren 
 receive instruction from the lips of a disgraced father ? 
 Gentlemen I am not ranging on fairy ground. I am 
 telling the plain story of my client's wrongs. By the 
 ruthless hand of malice his character has been wanton- 
 
 40 ly massacred ; — and he now appears before a jury of his 
 country for redress. Will you deny him this redress ? 
 — Is character valuable ? On this point I will not in- 
 sult you with argument. There are certain things to 
 argue which is treason against nature. The author of 
 
 IS our being did not intend to leave this point afloat at the 
 mercy of opinion, but with his own hand has.he kindly 
 planted in the soul of man an instinctive love of charac- 
 ter. This high sentiment has no affinity to pride. It 
 is the ennobling quality of the soul : and if we have 
 
 50 hitherto been elevated above the ranks of surrounding 
 creation, human, nature owes its elevation to the love of 
 character. It is the lo ve of character for which the poet 
 has sung, the philosopher toiled, the hero bled. It is 
 the love of character which wrought miracles at ancient 
 
 55 Greece : the love of character is the eagle on which 
 Rome rose to empire. And it is the love of character 
 animating the bosom of her sons, on which America 
 must depend in those approaching crises that may " try 
 men's souls." Will a jury weaken this our nation's 
 
 60 hope 1 Will they by their verdict pronounce to the 
 youth of our country, that character is scarce worth pos- 
 sessing ? 
 
 We read of that philosophy which can smile over the 
 destruction of property — of that religion which enables 
 
 05 its possessor to extend the benign look of forgiveness 
 and complacency to his murderers. But it is not in the 
 soul of man to bear the laceration of slander. The phi- 
 losophy which could bear it we should despise. The 
 religion which could bear it, we should not despise — 
 
 70 but we should be constrained to say. that its kingdom 
 was not of this world. 
 
 28 
 
326 exercises. [Ex.69. 
 
 ge 69. Thunder Storm. 
 
 They came to the highlands. It was the latter part 
 of a calm, sultry day, that they floated gently with the 
 tide between these stern mountains. There was that 
 perfect quiet which prevails over nature in the languor 
 5 of summer heat ; the turning of a plank, of the acciden- 
 tal falling of an oar on deck, was echoed from the moun- 
 tain side, and reverberated along the shores ; and if by 
 chance the captain gave a shout of command, there 
 were airy tongues that mocked it from every cliff. 
 
 10 I gazed about me in mute delight and wonder at these 
 scenes of nature's magnificence. To the left the Dun- 
 derberg reared its woody*precipices, height over height, 
 forest over forest, away into the deep summer sky. To 
 the right strutted forth the bold promontory of Antony's 
 
 15 Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it ; while 
 beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until they 
 seemed to lock their arms together, and confine this 
 mighty river in their embraces. There was a feeling 
 of quiet luxury in gazing at the broad, green bosoms 
 
 20 here and there scooped out among the precipices ; or 
 at woodlands high in air, nodding over the edge of some 
 beetling bluff, and their foliage all transparent in the 
 yellow sunshine. 
 
 In the midst of my admiration, I remarked a pile of 
 
 .25 bright snowy clouds peering above the western heights. 
 It was succeeded by another, and another, each seem- 
 ingly pushing onwards its predecessor, and towering, 
 with dazzling brilliancy, in the deep blue atmosphere : 
 and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard 
 
 30 rolling behind the mountains. The river, hitherto still 
 and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now 
 showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the breeze came 
 creeping up it. The fish hawks wheeled and screamed, 
 and sought their nests on the high dry trees ; the crows 
 
 35 flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks, and all 
 nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder- 
 gust. 
 
 The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain 
 tops ; their summits still bright and snowy, but the low- 
 
Ex. 70.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 327 
 
 40 er parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to pat- 
 ter down in broad and scattered drops ; the wind fresh- 
 ened, and curled up the waves ; at length it seemed as if 
 the bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain 
 tope, and complete torrents of rain came rattling down. 
 
 45 The lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and stream- 
 ed quivering against the rocks, splitting and rending the 
 stoutest forest trees. The thunder burst in tremendous 
 explosions; the peals were echoed from mountain to 
 mountain ; they crashed upon Dunderberg, and rolled 
 
 50 up the long defile of the highlands, each headland mak- 
 ing a new echo, until old Bull hill seemed to bellow back 
 the storm. 
 
 For a time the scudding rack and mist, and the sheet- 
 ed rain, almost hid the landscape from the sight. There 
 
 55 was a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully by the 
 streams of. lightning which glittered among the rain 
 drops. Never had I behold such an absolute warring of 
 the elements; it seemed as if the storm was tearing and 
 rending its way through this mountain defile, and had 
 
 60 brought all the artillery of heaven into action. 
 
 Irving. 
 70. Slavery. 
 
 - My ear is pained, 
 
 My soul is sick, with every, day's report 
 
 Of wrong and outrage, with which earth is filled. 
 
 There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart, 
 5 It does not feel for man : the natural bond 
 
 Of brotherhood is severed as the flax 
 
 That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 
 
 lie finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
 
 Not coloured like his own ; and having power 
 10 To enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause 
 
 Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
 
 Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
 
 Abhor each other. Mountains interposed 
 
 Make enemies of nations, who had else 
 15 Like kindred drops been mingled into one. 
 
 Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; 
 
 And, worse than all, and most to be deplored 
 
328 exercises. [Ex. 71. 
 
 As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
 Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
 
 20 With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding heart, 
 Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 
 Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, 
 And having human feelings, does not blush, 
 Aud hang his head, to think himself a man ? 
 
 25 I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
 To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
 And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
 That sinews, bought and sold, have ever earn'd. 
 No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
 ^0 Just estimation prized above all price, 
 I had much rather be myself the slave, 
 And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
 We have no slaves at home — then why abroad ] 
 And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave 
 
 35 That parts us, are emancipate and loosed. 
 
 Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs 
 Receive our air, that moment they are free ; 
 They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
 ' That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
 
 40 And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then, 
 And let it circulate through every vein 
 Of all your empire ; that, where Britain's power 
 Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. Cowper. 
 
 71. Irruption of Hyder Ali. 
 
 When at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do 
 with men who either would sign no convention, or whom 
 no treaty, and no signature could bind, and who were 
 the determined enemies of human intercourse itself, he 
 
 5 decreed to make the country possessed by these incor- 
 rigible and predestinated criminals a memorable exam- 
 ple to mankind. He resolved, in the gloomy recesses 
 of a mind capacious of such things, to leave the whole 
 Carnatic an everlasting monument of vengeance ; and 
 
 10 to put perpetual desolation as a barrier between him and 
 those against whom the faith which holds the moral el- 
 
Ev. 71.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 329 
 
 ements of the world together was no protection. He 
 became at length so confident of his force, so collected 
 in his might, that he made no secret whatsoever of his 
 
 15 dreadful resolution. Having terminated his disputes 
 with every enemy, and every rival, who buried their 
 mutual animosities in their common detestation against 
 the creditors of the nabob of Arcot, he drew from every 
 quarter, whatever a savage ferocity could add to his 
 
 20 new rudiments in the arts of destruction; and com- 
 pounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and desola- 
 tion, into one black cloud, he hung for a while on the 
 declivities of the mountains. Whilst the authors of aH 
 these evils were idly and stupidly gazing on this raen- 
 
 25 acing meteor, which blackened all their horizon, it sud- 
 denly burst, and poured down the whole of its contents 
 upon the plains of the Carnatic. Then ensued a scene 
 of wo, the like of which no eye had seen, no heart con- 
 ceived, and which no tongue can adequately tell. All 
 
 30 the horrors of war before known or heard of, were mer- 
 cy to that new havoc. A storm of universal fire blast- 
 ed every field, consumed every house, destroyed every 
 temple. The miserable inhabitants flying from their 
 flaming villages, in part were slaughtered ; others, with- 
 
 35 out regard to sex, to age, to the respect of rank, or sa- 
 credness of function ; fathers torn from children, hus- 
 bands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of cavalry, 
 and amidst the goading spears of drivers, and the tramp- 
 ling of pursuing horses, were swept into captivity, in an 
 
 40 unknown and hostile land. Those, who were able to 
 evade this tempest, fled to the walled cities. But es- 
 caping from fire, sword, and exile, they fell into the 
 jaws of famine. 
 
 For eighteen months, without intermission, this de- 
 
 45 struction raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of 
 Tanjore ; and so completely did these masters in their 
 art, Hyder Ali and his more ferocious son, absolve 
 themselves of their impious vow, that when the British 
 armies traversed, as they did, the Carnatic for hundreds 
 
 50 of miles in all directions, through the whole line of their 
 march, they did not see one man, not one woman, not 
 28* 
 
330 exercises. [Ex. 72, 7J. 
 
 one child, not one four-footed beast of any description 
 whatever. One dead uniform silence reigned over the 
 whole region." Burke. 
 
 72. Apostrophe to sleep. 
 
 Sleep, gentle sleep, 
 
 Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
 That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
 And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? 
 5 Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
 Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
 And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber 
 Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 
 Under the canopies of costly state, 
 
 10 And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody. 
 O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile, 
 In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch, 
 A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell ? 
 Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
 
 15 Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
 In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; 
 And in the visitation of the winds, 
 Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
 Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
 
 20 With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, 
 That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? 
 Canst thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose 
 To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude ; 
 And, in the calmest and most stillest night, 
 
 25 With all appliances, and means to boot, 
 
 Deny it to a king 1 Shalcspeare. 
 
 73. Vainty of power and misery of Kings. 
 
 No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : 
 Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs : 
 Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
 5 Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : 
 
Ex. 74. J SECULAR ELOQ.UENCE. 331 
 
 And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath, 
 Save our deposed bodies to the ground 1 
 Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, 
 And nothing can we call our own, but death ; 
 
 10 And that small model of the barren earth, 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings : — 
 How some have been depos'd, some slain in war ; 
 
 15 Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; 
 Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; 
 All murder'd : — For within the holfow crown " 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
 Keeps death his court : and there the antic sits, 
 
 •20 Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; 
 Allowing him a breath, a little scene, 
 To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks ; 
 Infasing him with self and vain conceit, — 
 As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
 
 25 Were brass impregnable ; and humour'd thus, 
 Comes at the last, and with a little pin 
 Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king J 
 Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
 With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, 
 
 30 Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, 
 For you have but mistook me all this while : 
 I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
 Need friends : — Subjected thus, 
 How can you say to me— I am a king ? 
 
 ShaJcspeare, 
 
 74. Reproof of the Irish Bishops. 
 
 Here are the sovereign pontiff of the Catholic faith, 
 and the Catholic king of Spain, distributing one third 
 part of the revenues of their church for the poor, and 
 here are some of the enlightened doctors of our church 
 depreciating such a principle, and guarding, their riches 
 against the encroaching of christian charity ; I hope 
 they will never again afford such an opportunity of com- 
 
332 exerciser. [Ex.7 1. 
 
 paring them with the pope, or contrasting them with the 
 apostles. I do not think their riches will be diminish- 
 
 10 ed ; but if they were to be so — is not the question di- 
 rectly put to them, which will they prefer ? their flock 
 or their riches ? for which did Christ die, Or the apos- 
 tles suffer martyrdom, or Paul preach, or Luther pro- 
 test ? was it for the tithe of flax or the tithe of barren 
 
 15 land, or the tithe of potatoes, or the tithe-proctor, or the 
 tithe-farmer, or the tithe-pig ? Your riches are secure ; 
 but if they were impaired by your acts of benevolence, 
 does our religion depend on your riches 1 On such a 
 principle your Saviour should have accepted of the king- 
 
 20 doms of the earth, and their glory, and have capitulated 
 with the devil for the propagation of the faith. Never 
 was a great principle rendered prevalent by power or 
 riches ; — low and artificial means are resorted to for ful- 
 filling the little views of men, their love of power, their 
 
 25 avarice, or ambition ; but to apply to the great designs 
 of God such wretched auxiliaries, is to forget his divini- 
 ty and to deny his omnipotence. What ! does the word 
 come more powerfully from the dignitary in purple and 
 fine linen than it came from the poor apostle with noth- 
 
 30 ing but the spirit of the Lord on his lips, and the glory 
 of God standing on his right hand 1 What ! my lords, 
 not cultivate barren land ; not encourage the manufac- 
 tures of your country ; not relieve the poor of your flock, 
 if the church is to be at any expense thereby ! — Where 
 
 35 shall we find this principle 1 not in the Bible. I have 
 adverted to the sacred writings without criticism, I al- 
 low, but not without devotion — there is not in any part 
 of them such a sentiment — not in the purity of Christ 
 nor the poverty of the apostles, nor the prophecy of Isai- 
 
 40 ah, nor the patience of Job, nor the harp of David, nor 
 the wisdom of Solomon ! No, my lords, on this subject 
 your Bible is against you — the precepts and practice of 
 the primitive church are against you — the great words 
 increase and multiply — the axiom of philosophy, that 
 
 45 nature does nothing in vain — the productive principle 
 that formed the system, and defends it against the am- 
 bition and encroachments of its own elements ; the f e- 
 
Ex. 75.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 333 
 
 productive principle which continues the system, and 
 which makes vegetation support life, and life adminis- 
 
 50 ter back again to vegetation ; taking from the grave its 
 sterile quality, and making death itself propagate to life 
 and succession — the plenitude of things, and the majes- 
 ty of nature, through all her organs, manifest against 
 such a sentiment; this blind fatality of errour, which, 
 
 55 under pretence of defending the wealth of the priest- 
 hood, checks the growth of mankind, arrests his indus- 
 try, and makes the sterility of the planet a part of its re- 
 ligion. Grattan. 
 
 75. Speech on the Greek Revolution. 
 
 It may, in the next place, be asked, perhaps, suppos- 
 ing all this to be true, what can we do 1 Are we to go 
 to war ? Are we to interfere in the Greek cause, or 
 any other European cause 1 Are we to endanger our 
 
 5 pacific relations ? — No, certainly not. What, then, the 
 question recurs, remains for us 1 If we will not endan- 
 ger our own peace ; if we will neither furnish armies, nor 
 navies, to the cause which we think the just one, what 
 is there within our power ? 
 
 10 Sir, this reasoning mistakes the age. The time has 
 been, indeed, when fleets, and armies, and subsidies, 
 were the principal reliances even in the best cause. 
 But, happily for mankind, there has come a great change 
 in this respect. Moral causes come into consideration, 
 
 15 in proportion as the progress of knowledge is advanced ; 
 and the public opinion of the civilized world is rapidly 
 gaining an ascendancy over mere brutal force. It is 
 already able to oppose the most formidable obstruction 
 to the progress of injustice and oppression ; and, as it 
 
 20 grows more intelligent and more intense, it will be more 
 and more formidable. It may be silenced by military 
 power, but it cannot be conquered. It is elastic, irre- 
 pressible, and invulnerable to the weapons of ordinary 
 warfare. It is that impassible, unextinguishable enemy 
 
 25 of mere violence and arbitrary rule, which, like Milton's 
 angels, 
 
334 exercises. [Ex. 7G. 
 
 M Vital in every part, 
 
 Cannot, but by annihilating-, die. 1 ' 
 
 Until this be propitiated or satisfied, it is vain for 
 
 30 power to talk either of triumphs or of repose* No mat- 
 ter what fields are desolated, what fortresses surrender- 
 ed, what armies subdued, or what provinces overrun. 
 In the history of the year that has passed by us, and in 
 the instance of unhappy Spain, we have seen the vanity 
 
 35 of all triumphs, in a cause which violates the general 
 sense of justice of the civilized world. It is nothing, 
 that the troops of France have passed from the Pyre- 
 nees to Cadiz ; it is nothing that an unhappy and pros- 
 trate nation has fallen before them ; it is nothing that 
 
 40 arrests, and confiscation, and execution, sweep away the 
 little remnant of national resistance. There is an ene- 
 my that still exists to check the glory of these triumphs. 
 It follows the conqueror back to the very scene of his 
 ovations ; it calls upon him to take notice that Europe, 
 
 45 though silent, is yet indignant ; it shows him that the 
 sceptre of his victory is a barren sceptre ; that it shall 
 confer neither joy nor honour, but shall moulder to dry 
 ashes in his grasp. In the midst of his exultation, it 
 pierces his ear with the cry of injured justice, it denoun- 
 
 50 ces against him the indignation of an enlightened and 
 civilized age ; it turns to bitterness the cup of his re- 
 joicing, and wounds him with the sting which belongs 
 to the consciousness of having outraged the opinion of 
 mankind. Webster. 
 
 76. Character of Hamilton. 
 
 That writer would deserve the fame of a public bene- 
 factor, who could exhibit the character of Hamilton, 
 with the truth and force, that all. who intimately knew 
 him, conceived it : his example would then take the 
 5 . same ascendant, as his talents. The portrait alone, 
 however exquisitely finished, could not inspire genius 
 where it is not ; but if the world should again have pos- 
 session of so rare a gift, it might awaken it when it 
 sleeps, as by a spark from heaven's own altar ; for sure- 
 
Ex. 76.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 335 
 
 10 ly if there is any thing like divinity in man, it is his ad- 
 miration of virtue. 
 
 But who alive can exhibit this portrait ? If our age, 
 on that supposition, more fruitful than any other, had 
 produced two Hamiltons, one of them might have de- 
 
 l") picted the other. To delineate genius, one must feel 
 its power : Hamilton, and he alone, with all its inspi- 
 rations, could have transfused its whole fervid soul into 
 the picture, and swelled its lineaments into life. The 
 writer's mind, expanding with its own peculiar enthusi- 
 
 •20 asm, and glowing with kindred fires, would then have 
 stretched to the dimensions of his subject. 
 
 Such is the infirmity of human nature, it is very dif- 
 ficult for a man, who is greatly the superiour of his as- 
 sociates, to preserve their friendship without abatement ; 
 
 25 yet, though he could not possibly conceal his superiori- 
 ty, he was so little inclined to display it, he was so much 
 at ease in his possession, that no jealousy or envy chill- 
 ed his bosom, when his friends obtained praise. He 
 was- indeed so entirely the friend of his friends, so mag- 
 
 30 nanimous, so superiour, or, more properly, so insensible 
 to all exclusive selfishness of spirit ; so frank, so ardent, 
 yet so little overbearing, so much trusted, admired, be- 
 loved, almost adored, that his power over their affections 
 was entire, and lasted through his life. We do not be- 
 
 35 lieve, that he left any worthy man his foe, who had ev- 
 er been his friend. 
 
 Men of the most elevated minds, have not always the 
 readiest discernment of character. Perhaps he was 
 sometimes too sudden and too lavish in bestowing his 
 
 40 confidence : his manly spirit disdaining artifice, suspect- 
 ed note But while the power of his friends over him 
 seemed to have no limits, and really had none, in res- 
 pect to those things which were of a nature to be yield- 
 ed, no man, not .the Roman Cato himself, was more 
 
 45 inflexible on every point that touched, or seemed to 
 touch integrity and honour. With him, it was not 
 enough to be unsuspected ; his bosom would have glow- 
 ed like a furnace, at its own whispers of reproach. 
 Mere purity would have seemed to him below praise ; 
 
33C exercises. [Ex. 77. 
 
 50 and such were his habits, and such his nature, that the 
 pecuniary temptations which many others can only with 
 great exertion and self-denial resist, had no attractions 
 for him. He was very far from obstinate ; yet, as his 
 friends assailed his opinions with less profound thought 
 
 55 than he had devoted to them, they were seldom shaken 
 
 by discussion. He defended them, however, with as 
 
 much mildness as force, and evinced, that if he did not 
 
 yield, it was not for want of gentleness or modesty. 
 
 The tears that flow on this fond recital will never dry 
 
 60 up. My heart, penetrated with the remembrance of 
 the man, grows liquid as I write, and I could pour it 
 out like water. I could weep too for my country, 
 which, mournful as it is, does not know the half of its 
 loss. It deeply laments, when it turns its eyes back, 
 
 65 and sees what Hamilton was ; but my soul stiffens with 
 despair, when I think what Hamilton would have been. 
 
 Ames. 
 
 77. State of French Republic. 
 
 With the jacobins of France, marriage is in effect an- 
 nihilated ; children are encouraged to cut the throats 
 of their parents ; mothers are taught that tenderness is 
 no part of their character ; and to demonstrate their at- 
 5 tachment to their party, that they ought to make no 
 scruple to rake with their bloody hands in the bowels of 
 those who come from their own. 
 
 To all this let us join the practice of cannibalism, 
 with which, in the proper terms, and with the greatest 
 10 truth, their several factions accuse each other. By can- 
 nibalism, I mean their devouring, as a nutriment of their 
 ferocity, some part of the bodies of those they have mur- 
 dered ; their drinking the blood of their victims, and 
 forcing the victims themselves to drink the blood of their 
 15 kindred slaughtered before their faces. By cannibal- 
 ism, I mean also to signify all their nameless, unman- 
 ly, and abominable insults on the bodies of those they 
 slaughter. 
 
 As to thoge whom they suffer to die a natural death. 
 
Ex. 77.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 337 
 
 20 they do not permit them to enjoy the last consolations of 
 mankind, or those rights of sepulture, which indicate 
 hope, and which mere nature has taught to mankind in 
 all countries, to soothe the afflictions, and to cover the 
 infirmity of mortal condition. They disgrace men in 
 
 '25 the entry into life : they vitiate and enslave them 
 through the whole course of it ; and they deprive them 
 of all comfort at the conclusion of their dishonoured and 
 depraved existence. Endeavouring to persuade the 
 people that they are no better than beasts, the whole 
 
 30 body of their institution tends to make them beasts of 
 prey, furious and savage. For this purpose the active 
 part of them is disciplined into a ferocity which has no 
 parallel. To this ferocity there is joined not one of the 
 rude, unfashioned virtues which accompany the vices, 
 
 35 where the whole are left to grow up to together in the 
 rankness of uncultivated nature. But nothing is left to 
 nature in their systems. 
 
 The same discipline which hardens their hearts re- 
 laxes their morals. Whilst courts of justice were thrust 
 
 40 out by revolutionary tribunals, and silent churches were 
 only the funeral monuments of departed religion, there 
 were no fewer than nineteen or twenty theatres, great 
 and small, most of them kept open at the public ex- 
 pense, and all of them crowded every night. Among 
 
 45 the gaunt, haggard forms of famine and nakedness, amidst 
 the yells of murder, the tears of affliction, and the cries 
 of despair ; the song, the dance, the mimic scene, the 
 buffoon laughter, went on as regularly as in the gay 
 hour of festive peace. I have it from good authority, 
 
 50 that under the scaffold of judicial murder, and the gap- 
 ing planks that poured down blood on the spectators, 
 the space was hired out for a shew of dancing dogs. I 
 think, without concert, we have made the very same re- 
 mark on reading some of their pieces, which being writ- 
 
 55 ten for other purposes, let us into a view of their social 
 life. It struck us that the habits of Paris had no resem- 
 blance to the finished virtues, or to the polished vice, 
 and elegant, though not blameless luxury, of the capital 
 of a great empire. Their society was more like that of a 
 29 
 
338 exercises. [Ex. 78. 
 
 (30 den of outlaws upon a doubtful frontier ; of a lewd tav- 
 vern for the revels and debauches of banditti, assassins, 
 bravos and smugglers mixed with bombastic players, 
 the refuse and rejected offal of strolling theatres, puff- 
 ing out ill-sorted verses about virtue, mixed with the 
 
 65 licentious and blasphemous songs, proper to the brutal 
 and hardened course of life belonging to that sort of 
 wretches. This system of manners in itself is at war 
 with all orderly and moral society, and is in its neigh- 
 bourhood unsafe. If great bodies of that kind were any 
 
 70 where established in a bordering territory, we should 
 have a right to demand of their governments the suppres- 
 sion of such a nuisance. What are we to do if the gov- 
 ernment and the whole community is of the same des- 
 cription 1 Yet that government has thought proper to 
 
 75 invite ours to lay by its unjust hatred, and to listen to 
 the voice of humanity as taught by their example. 
 
 Burke. 
 
 78. Cicero for Cluentius. 
 
 You, T. Attius, I know, had every where given it 
 out, that I was to defend my client,, not from facts, not 
 upon the footing of innocence, but by taking advantage 
 merely of the law in his behalf. Have I done so 1 I 
 
 5 appeal to yourself. Have I sought to cover him behind 
 a legal defence only ? On the contrary, have I not 
 pleaded his cause as if he had been a senator, liable, by 
 the Cornelian law, to be capitally convicted ; and shown, 
 that neither proof nor probable presumption lies against 
 
 10 his innocence ? In doing so, I must acquaint you, that 
 I have complied with the desire of Cluentius himself. 
 For when he first consulted me in this cause, and when 
 I informed him that it was clear no action could be 
 brought against him from the Cornelian law, he instant- 
 
 15 ly besought and obtested me, that I would not rest his 
 defence upon that ground : saying, with tears in his 
 eyes, that his reputation was as dear to him as his life ; 
 and that what he sought, as an innocent man, was not 
 only to be absolved from any penalty, but to be acquit- 
 
 20 ted in the opinion of all his fellow-citizens. 
 
 _ 
 
Ex. 78.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 339 
 
 Hitherto, then, I have pleaded this cause upon his 
 plan. But my client must forgive me, if now I shall 
 plead it upon my own. For I should be wanting to 
 myself, and to that regard which my character and sta- 
 
 25 tion require me to bear to the laws of the state, if I 
 should allow any person to be judged of by a law which 
 does not bind him. You, Attius, indeed, have told us, 
 that it was a scandal and reproach, that a Roman knight 
 should be exempted from those penalties to which a 
 
 30 senator, for corrupting judges, is liable. But I must 
 tell you, that it would be a much greater reproach, in a 
 state that is regulated by law, to depart from the law. 
 What safety have any of us in our persons, what secu- 
 rity for our rights, if the law shall be set aside ? By 
 
 35 what title do you, Q. Naso, sit in that chair, and pre- 
 side in this judgment 1 By what right, T. Attius, do 
 you accuse, or do I defend 1 Whence all the solemni- 
 ty and pomp of judges, and clerks, and officers, of which 
 this house is full ? Does not all proceed from the law, 
 
 40 which regulates the whole departments of the state ; 
 which, as a common bond, holds its members together ; 
 and, like the soul within the body, actuates and directs 
 all the public functions 7 On what ground, then, dare 
 you speak lightly of the law, or move that, in a crim- 
 
 45 inal trial, judges should advance one step beyond what 
 it permits them to go ? the wisdom of our ancestors has 
 found, that, as senators and magistrates enjoy higher 
 dignities, and greater advantages than other members 
 of the state, the law should also, with regard to them, 
 be more strict, and the purity and uncorruptedness of 
 
 50 their morals be guarded by more severe sanctions. But 
 if it be your pleasure that this institution should be al- 
 tered, if you wish to have the Cornelian law, concern- 
 ing bribery extended to all ranks, then let us join, not 
 in violating the law, but in proposing to have this alter- 
 
 55 ation made by a new law. My client, Cluentius, will 
 be the foremost in this measure, who now, while the 
 old law subsists, rejected its defence, and required his 
 cause to be pleaded, as if he had been bound by it. 
 But, though he would not avail himself of the law, you 
 
340 exercises, [Ex. 79. 
 
 60 sure bound in justice not to stretch it beyond its proper 
 
 limits. 
 
 79, Extract from Dtmostkenes. 
 
 Yes. Athenians, I repeat it. you yourselves are the 
 contrivers of your own ruin. Lives there a man who 
 
 has confidence enough to deny it ? Let him arise, and 
 
 assign, it' he can. any other cause of the success and 
 
 5 prosperity o( Philip — M But." yon reply. " what Athens 
 may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in 
 splendour at home. Was there ever a greater appear- 
 ance of prosperity; a greater face of plenty 1 Is not 
 the city enlarged ! Are not the streets better paved. 
 
 10 houses repaired and beautified 1" — Away with such tri- 
 fles! Shall I be paid with counters ? An old square 
 new vamped up ! a fountain ! an aqueduct! are these 
 acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye upon the magis- 
 trate under whose ministry yon boast these precious 
 
 15 improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised, 
 ail at once, from dirt to opulence : from the lowest ob- 
 scurity to the highest honours. Have not some o\' these 
 upstarts built private houses and seats, vying with the 
 most sumptuous of our public palaces ? And how have 
 
 20 their fortunes and their power increased, but as the com- 
 monwealth has been mined and impoverished I 
 
 To what are we to impute these disorders, and to 
 what cause assign the decay of a state so powerful and 
 nourishing in past times ? The reason is plain. The 
 
 •25 servant is now become the master. The magistrate was 
 then subservient to the people : all honours, dignities, 
 and preferments, were disposed by the voice and fa- 
 vour of the people : but the magistrate, now. has usurp- 
 ed the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary 
 
 30 authority over his ancient and natural lord. You, mis- 
 erable people ! — the meanwhile, without money, without 
 friends, — from being the ruler, are become the servant : 
 from being the master, the dependant : happy that these 
 governors, into whose hands you have thus resigned your 
 
 35 own power, are so good and so gracious as to continue 
 your poor allowance to see plays. 
 
Ex. 79.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 341 
 
 Believe me, Athenians, if recovering from this leth- 
 argy, you would assume the ancient freedom and spirit 
 of your fathers — if you would be your own soldiers and 
 
 40 your own commanders, confiding no longer your affairs 
 in foreign or mercenary hands — if you would charge 
 yourselves with your own defence, employing abroad, for 
 the public, what you waste in unprofitable pleasures at 
 home — the world might once more, behold you making 
 
 45 a figure worthy of Athenians. — " You would have us, 
 then, (you say,) do service in our armies in our own per- 
 sons ; and, for so doing, you would have the pensions we 
 receive in time of peace, accepted as pay in time of war. 
 Is it thus we are to understand you ?" — Yes, Athenians, 
 
 50 'tis my plain meaning. I would make it a standing rule, 
 that no person, great or little, should be the better for 
 the public money, who should grudge to employ it for 
 the public service. Are we in peace ? the public is 
 charged with your subsistence. Are we in war, or un- 
 
 55 der a necessity, as at this time, to enter into a war ? 
 let your gratitude oblige you to accept, as pay in defence 
 of your benefactors, what you receive, in peace, as mere 
 bounty. — Thus, without any innovation — without alter- 
 ing or abolishing any thing but pernicious novelties, 
 
 00 introduced for the encouragement of sloth and idleness 
 — by converting only for the future, the same funds, 
 for the use of the serviceable, which are spent, at pres- 
 ent, upon the unprofitable, you may be well served in 
 your armies — your troops regularly paid — justice duly 
 
 65 administered— the public revenues reformed and increas- 
 ed — and every member of the commonwealth rendered 
 useful to his country, according to his age and ability, 
 without any further burden to the state. 
 
 29* 
 
342 exercises. [Ex. 80. 
 
 SO. Brougham's Speech, on the speech made by tke Duke of 
 York in the house of Lords, on the Catholic question, 
 ivhich his Lordship concluded by saying •" / am deter- 
 mined, to whatever censure or obloquy I may be exposed 
 hy making this declaration, to persevere in my opposition 
 to these claims, ' so help me god.' 
 
 Will any man tell me that he has now confident hopes 
 of the Catholic Question ? We are told that we are not 
 to try the question of the 40s. freeholders on its own 
 merits, but that the measure is expedient, because it will 
 5 ensure the passing of the Catholic Bill. This argument 
 might have been used twenty-four hours ago, but does 
 any man believe, after what has passed, that the enact- 
 ment of this measure will be sure to carry the Catholic 
 Bill ? What earthly security have I, that if I abandon 
 
 10 my privileges and my duty as a legislator, by voting for 
 this measure in the dark, I shall even have the suppos- 
 ed compensation, for this abandonment and betrayal of 
 my duty, the passing of the Catholic Bill ? I repeat, 
 that this might have been urged as an argument two or 
 
 15 three days ago ; but does any man really believe now 
 that the Catholic Bill will pass 1 Does any man believe 
 that the ominous news of this day, which has gone forth 
 to England and Ireland, will not ring the knell of de- 
 spair in the ears of the Catholics 1 I am not an enemy 
 
 20 to consistency of action ; I do not condemn the candid 
 expression of sincere conviction ; I do not even com- 
 plain of the violence of zeal, or censure the promulga- 
 tion of honest obstinacy, however erroneous ; but when 
 I behold those manly feelings darkened by ignorance 
 
 25 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 opin- 
 ions and wishes of the people. I repeat, then, that when 
 
 30 that event* shall have taken place, it will be impossible 
 to carry the question of emancipation ; nay, that its suc- 
 
 * The accession of the Duke of York, who was heir apparent 
 to the throne. 
 
EX. 80.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 343 
 
 cess is even at present surrounded by doubt and danger, 
 while such opposition is brewing against it in such a 
 quarter. Instead of a majority of twenty-seven mem- 
 35 bers of this house, to save the empire from convulsion, 
 which, within the last twenty four hours, has become 
 ten thousand times more petrifying to the imagination : 
 I believe nothing can save Ireland — nothing can pre- 
 serve the tranquillity of Ireland, and save England from 
 40 new troubles, but a large increase of the majority on the 
 question. Now, then, is the time to carry it or not for 
 years — and even now you can carry it only by an over- 
 whelming majority of this House. This is the hour of its 
 good fortune. This reign — the present reign, is the crit- 
 45 ical moment of its probable success. — The time may pass 
 quickly by you — the glorious opportunity may soon be 
 lost. After a little sleeping and a little debating, and a 
 little sitting upon these benches, and a little folding of 
 your arms, and a short passing space of languid procras- 
 50 tination, the present auspicious occasion will have dis- 
 appeared, and the dominion of bigotry and despotism 
 will come in all its might upon our slumberings, like an 
 armed man in the night, and destroy the peace of Ire- 
 land, and endanger the safety of England, and threaten 
 55 the liberties of the general Empire. — But God forbid 
 that such a time may ever arrive ! Yet, if it is destined 
 to come upon us, late and far, far distant from us be the 
 ill-omened crisis. If I were a lover of discord — Sir, I 
 am not a lover of discord — and those perhaps who con- 
 60 sider me so, are only not lovers of discord, because they 
 prefer, to what they call discord and commotion, the 
 solitude, which absolute, unthinking obedience pays to 
 unmitigated despotism. I respect all men's consciences. 
 God forbid that I should not give to their honest differ- 
 65 ences of opinion that toleration which I challenge for 
 myself. I have said that a want of conscientious hon- 
 esty and frankness is the last charge which I would 
 bring against any man either within these walls or out 
 of doors ; but I have lived long enough to know that 
 70 most antagonists, provided they be not honest, enlight- 
 ened men, are very often the most perverse and perti- 
 nacious antagonists, and that all hopes of reclaiming them 
 
344 EXERCISES. [&x. 81. 
 
 from their errors, «' so help them God," is impossible. 
 It becomes us then, to set our House in order by times, 
 
 75 and to recollect, that if we carried up the Bill, on a for- 
 mer occasion, with a majority of nineteen, and it failed 
 in the House of Peers, theje is ten thousand fold the 
 necessity for taking this last opportunity of bringing the 
 Question to a conclusion because an event may happen 
 
 80 — God knows how soon or how late, but God forbid that 
 it should be soon, when you will have no longer the op- 
 tion ; when even if the Bill should be carried — not by a 
 majority of nineteen or twenty-seven — but by a unani- 
 mous vote of both Houses of Parliament, and the voice 
 
 85 of the whole country — even if the country streamed with 
 blood, the measure could not be effected except by an 
 inseparable breach of the Crown. 
 
 81. Dangers which heset the Literature of the age. 
 
 There are dangers of another sort, which beset the 
 literature of the age. The constant demand for new 
 works and the impatience for fame, not only stimulate 
 authors to an undue eagerness for strange incidents, 
 
 -5 singular opinions, and vain sentimentalities, but their 
 style and diction are infected with the faults of extrava- 
 gance and affectation. The old models of fine writing 
 and good taste are departed from, not because they can 
 be excelled, but because they are known, and want 
 
 10 freshness ; because, if they have a finished coloring, 
 they have no strong contrasts to produce effect. The 
 consequence is, that opposite extremes in the manner 
 of composition prevail at the same moment, or succeed 
 each other with a fearful rapidity. On one side are to 
 
 15 be found authors, who profess to admire the easy flow 
 and simplicity of the old style, the naturalness of famil- 
 iar prose, and the tranquil dignity of higher composi- 
 tions. But in their desire to be simple, they become 
 extravagantly loose and inartificial ; in their familiari- 
 
 20 ty, feeble and drivelling ; and in their more aspiring ef- 
 forts, cold, abstract, and harsh. On the other side, 
 there are those, who have no love for polished perfection 
 of style, for sustained and unimpassioned accuracy, for 
 
Ex. 81.] SECULAR ELOQUENCE. 345 
 
 persuasive, but equable diction. They require more 
 
 25 hurried tones, more stirring spirit, more glowing and ir- 
 regular sentences. There must be intensity of thought 
 and intensity of phrase at every turn. There must be 
 bold and abrupt transitions, strong relief, vivid coloring, 
 forcible expression. If these are present, all other 
 
 30 faults are forgiven, or forgotten. Excitement is pro- 
 duced, and taste may slumber. 
 
 Examples of each sort may be easily found in our 
 miscellaneous literature among minds of no ordinary 
 cast. Our poetry deals less than formerly with the sen- 
 
 35 timents and feelings belonging to ordinary life. It has 
 almost ceased to be didactic, and in its scenery and de- 
 scriptions reflects too much the peculiarities and mor- 
 bid visions of eccentric minds. How little do we see 
 of the simple beauty, the chaste painting, the uncon- 
 
 40 scious moral grandeur of Crabbe and Cowper ? We 
 have, indeed, successfully dethroned the heathen dei- 
 ties. The "Muses are no longer invoked by every un- 
 happy inditer of verse. The Naiads no longer inhabit 
 our fountains, nor the Dryads our woods. The River 
 
 45 Gods no longer rise, like old father Thames, 
 
 " And the hush'd waves glide softly to the shore." 
 
 In these respects our poetry is more true to nature, 
 and more conformable to just taste. But it still insists 
 too much on extravagant events, characters, and pas- 
 sions, far removed from common life, and farther remov- 
 
 50 ed from general sympathy. It seeks to be wild, and 
 fiery, and startling ; and sometimes, in its caprices, low 
 and childish. It portrays natural scenery, as if it were 
 always in violent commotion. It describes human emo- 
 tions, as if man were always in extacies or horrors. 
 
 55 Whoever writes for future ages must found himself upon 
 feelings and sentiments belonging to the mass of man- 
 kind. Whoever paints from nature will rarely depart 
 from the general character of repose impressed upon her 
 scenery, and will prefer truth to the ideal sketches of 
 
 60 the imagination, Story, 
 
EXERCISES. fEx. 82. 
 
 82. Tribute to Henry Kirk White. 
 
 Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring, 
 And thy young Muse just wav'd her joyous "wing 
 The spoder came ; all, all thy promise fair "' 
 Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. 
 
 Wh W « * n °. b,e heart w «» here undone, 
 When Science' self detroy'd her favourite son ! 
 Shi. She ,, t0 " milch j indulged thy fond pursuit, 
 'Tw S Th he S6eds ' but Death has ™P'<1 the fruit. 
 
 10 inH L. M e .° W ? geni " S § ave 'he final blow 
 1U And help d plant the wound tha( 
 
 So the struck eagle stretch'd upon the plain 
 No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
 View d Ins own feather on the fatal dart, 
 And wing d the shaft that quiver'd in his heart ; 
 
 w! V u' S pangs ' but keener f « to feel, 
 He i Mrs id the pmion which impelled the steel. 
 While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest 
 Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast. 
 
 Byron-. 
 
SACRED ELOaUENCE. 
 
 83. Defence of Pulpit Eloquence. 
 
 It is sufficiently evident, that eloquence has a -strong 
 influence over the minds and passions of men. 
 
 I do not call the attention of the reader to those com- 
 positions which filled Athens with valour, which agitat- 
 5 ed or calmed, at the will of the orator, the bosoms of a 
 thousand warriors, and which, all nations have consent- 
 ed to immortalize. The thunder which Demosthenes 
 hurled at the head of Philip, continues to roll to the 
 present hour ; and his eloquence, stripped as it is of ac- 
 10 tion and utterance, mutilated by time, and enfeebled by 
 translation, is yet powerful enough to kindle in our bo- 
 soms, at this remote age, a fire, which the hand of death 
 has extinguished in the hearts of those who were origin- 
 ally addressed ! We pass over, also, the eloquence 
 15 which Cicero poured out, in a torrent so resistless, that 
 the awful senate of Rome could not withstand its force ; 
 an eloquence that could break confederacies, disarm 
 forces, controul anarchy ! — an eloquence that years 
 cannot impair, age cannot weaken, time cannot des- 
 •20 troy 1 But we appeal to its influence, in an age not 
 very remote, nor very unlike the present, in a neigh- 
 bouring country, in the ministerial profession. The 
 name of Massillon was more attractive than all the 
 perfumes that Arabia could furnish ; and this was the 
 25 incense that filled the churches of spiritual Babylon. 
 The theatre was forsaken, while the church was crowd- 
 ed ; the court forgot their amusements, to attend the 
 preacher ; and his spirit-controuling accents drew the 
 monarch from his throne to his feet, stopped the impet-< 
 
348 exercises. [Ex. 83. 
 
 30 uous stream of dissipation, and compelled the mocking 
 world to listen ! This is not a picture delineated by fan- 
 cy, but a representation of facts ; and it is well known, 
 that no fashionable amusements had attractions when 
 the French bishop was to ascend the pulpit. While he 
 
 35 spoke, the king trembled ; while he denounced the in- 
 dignation of God against a corrupted court, nobility 
 shrunk into nothingness ; while he described the hor- 
 rors of a judgment to come, infidelity turned pale, and 
 the congregation, unable to support the thunder of his 
 
 40 language, rose from their seats in agony ! Let these 
 instances suffice to shew the power of eloquence, the 
 influence which language well chosen has upon the mind 
 of man, who alone, of all the creatures of God, is able 
 to transmit his thoughts through the medium of speech, 
 
 45 to know, to relish, and to use the charms of language. 
 I am well aware that an argument is deduced from 
 the power of eloquence against the use of it in the pul- 
 pit. ' It is liable to abuse ;' say they, ' it tends to im- 
 pose upon the understanding, by fascinating the imagin- 
 
 50 ation.' Most true ! it is liable to abuse ; and what is 
 there so excellent in its nature that is not? The doc- 
 trines of grace have been abused to licentiousness ; and 
 the liberty of Christianity ' used as a cloak of malicious- 
 ness.' This, however, is no refutation of those doc- 
 
 55 trines, no argument against that liberty. Because elo- 
 quence has been abused, because it has served Anti- 
 christ, or rendered sin specious, is it, therefore, less 
 excellent in itself? or is it, for that reason, to be re- 
 jected from the service of holiness ? No ; let it be em- 
 
 60 ployed in the service of God, and it is directed to its 
 noblest ends ; it answers the best of purposes ? 
 
 But the most eloquent are not always the most use- 
 ful ; and God hath chosen the ignorant, in various in- 
 stances, to confound the wise.' It is granted. But 
 
 65 does God uniformly work one way ? When he sends, 
 it is by whom he will send ; and he can qualify, and 
 does qualify those whom he raises up for himself. He 
 can give powers as a substitute for literature, and 
 by his own energy effect that which eloquence alone 
 
Ex. 83.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 349 
 
 70 cannot. But we set not up this attainment against his 
 energy, we know that it is useful only in dependence 
 upon it. We know, too, why the ignorant are frequent- 
 ly exalted in the scale of usefulness, to show that ' the 
 power is not of man, but of God ;' and ' that no flesh 
 
 75 should glory in his presence.' But has he not blessed 
 talents also, for the same important purpose ? Has he 
 never employed eloquence usefully ? Has his favour 
 been uniformly limited, or ever limited to the illiterate ? 
 Because he sometimes works without the means, and 
 
 80 apparently in defiance of the means, are we therefore 
 to lay them aside 1 Who possessed more advantages, or 
 more eloquence than the apostle, whose words are al- 
 luded to in this objection ? Did Paul make a worse 
 preacher for being brought up at the feet of Gamaliel? 
 
 So y But the gospel of Jesus disdains such assistance : 
 for the apostle says to the Corinthians, ' I came not to 
 you with excellency of speech :' — ' and my speech, and 
 my preaching, was not with enticing words of men's 
 wisdom.' That the gospel of Jesus disdains the assis- 
 
 90 tance of eloquence, in a certain sense, I admit. It will 
 not accept of any thing as its support. It stands upon 
 its own inherent excellence ; and spurns all extraneous 
 aid. It is a sun absorbing every surrounding luminary. 
 Its beauty eclipses every charm brought in comparison 
 
 95 w r ith it. Yet, is this a reason why, in enforcing its 
 glorious truths upon our fellow-men, we should disdain 
 assistance which, although it aids not the gospel, is 
 useful to them ? Follow the opposite principle, and 
 lay aside preaching. The gospel approves itself to the 
 100 conscience ; every attempt to illustrate and enforce it 
 is useless, when applied to the truth itself, for it cannot 
 be rendered more excellent than it is : yet it may be 
 rendered more perspicuous to our fellow-men, it needs 
 enforcing as it regards them ; and preaching has been 
 105 instituted by God himself for that express purpose. So 
 eloquence cannot render assistance to the gospel itself; 
 but may be useful to those who attend it. True elo- 
 quence has for its object, not merely to please, but to 
 render luminous the subject discussed, and to reach 
 110 the hearts of those concerned. 
 30 
 
o-30 exerci- [Ex. 84. 
 
 Wc live in a day when it becomes us to be equal ev- 
 ery way to our adversaries. This we never can be, if 
 we cherish a contempt for liberal science. Infidelity 
 lifts her standard, and advances, with daring front, to 
 
 115 'defy the armies of the living God.' Distinguished 
 talents rally around her ensign. The charms of elo- 
 quence, the force of reason, the majesty of literature, 
 the light of science, are all enlisted under her banner ; 
 are all opposed to ' the truth as it is in Jesus.' Let us, 
 
 120 in reliance upon divine aid, meet them upon equal 
 terms, contend with them on their own ground, turn 
 against them their own weapons ! Let us meet them in 
 the plain, or upon the mountain ; let us ascend to their 
 elevation, or stoop to their level ! Let us oppose sci- 
 
 125 ence to science, eloquence to eloquence, light to light, 
 energy to energy ! Let us prove that we are their equals 
 in intellect, their colleagues in literature : but that, in 
 addition to this, ' One is our master, even Christ,' — 
 that we have ' a more sure word of prophecy,' — and 
 
 130 that our light, borrowed from the fountain of illumina- 
 tion, will shine with undiminished lustre, when their 
 lamp, fed only by perishable, precarious supplies, shall 
 be for ever extinguished ! 
 
 84. The Blind Preacher. 
 
 One Sunday, as I travelled through the county of 
 Orange, my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied 
 near a ruinous, old, wooden house, in the forest, not far 
 from the road-side. Having frequently seen such ob- 
 
 5 jects before, in travelling through these states, I had no 
 difficulty in understanding that this was a place of reli- 
 gious worship. Devotion alone should have stopped 
 me, to join in the duties of the congregation ; but I 
 must confess, that curiosity to hear the preacher of such 
 
 10 a wilderness, was not the least of my motives. 
 
 On entering the house, I was struck with his preter- 
 natural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old 
 man — his head, which was covered with a white linen 
 cap ; his shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaken 
 
Ex. 84.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 351 
 
 15 under the influence of a palsy, and a few moments as- 
 certained to me that he was perfectly blind. The first 
 emotions which touched my breast, were those of min- 
 gled pity and veneration. But ah ! How soon were all 
 my feelings changed ! It was a day of the administra- 
 te) tion of the sacrament, and his subject, of course, was 
 the passion of our Saviour. I had heard the subject 
 handled a thousand times : I had thought it exhausted 
 long ago. Little did I suppose, that in the wild woods of 
 America, 1 was to meet with a man whose eloquence 
 
 •25 would give to this topic, a new and more sublime pathos 
 than I had ever before witnessed. 
 
 As he descended from the pulpit, to distribute the 
 mystic symbol, there was a peculiar, a more than hu- 
 man solemnity in his air and manner, which made my 
 
 30 blood run cold, and my whole frame to shiver. He 
 then drew a picture of the sufferings of our Saviour — 
 his trial before Pilate — his ascent up Calvary — his cru- 
 cifixion — and his death. I knew the whole history ; 
 but never, until then, had I heard the circumstances so 
 
 35 selected, so arranged, so coloured ! It was all new ; 
 and I seemed to have heard it for the first time in my 
 life. His enunciation was so deliberate, that his voice 
 trembled on every syllable ; and every heart in the as- 
 sembly trembled in unison. 
 
 40 His peculiar phrases, had that force of description, 
 that the original scene appeared to be, at that moment, 
 acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the 
 Jews — the staring, frightful distortions of malice and 
 rage. We saw the buffet — my soul kindled with a 
 
 45 flame of indignation, and my hands were involuntarily 
 and convulsively clenched. But when he came to 
 touch the patience, the forgiving meekness of our Sa- 
 viour — when he drew, to the life, his blessed eyes stream- 
 ing in tears to heaven — his voice breathing to God, a 
 
 50 soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, " Fa- 
 ther, forgive them, for they know not what they do,"— 
 the voice of the preacher which had all along faulter- 
 ed, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance being 
 entirely obstructed by the force. of his feelings, he rais- 
 
 55 ed his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud 
 
35£ rxercises. [Ex. 85. 
 
 and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect was incon- 
 ceivable. The whole house resounded with the min- 
 gled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the congregation. 
 It was some time before the tumult had subsided, so 
 
 60 far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by 
 the usual, but fallacious standard of my own weakness, 
 I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the 
 preacher. For I could not conceive, how he would be 
 able to let his audience down from the height to which 
 
 65 he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity 
 and dignity of his subject, or perhaps shocking them by 
 the abruptness of the fall. But the descent was as 
 beautiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid 
 and enthusiastic. 
 
 70 The first sentence with which he broke the awful 
 silence, was a quotation from Rousseau : " Socrates 
 died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ, like a God ! !" 
 Never before did I completely understand what De- 
 mosthenes meant by laying such stress on delivery. 
 
 Wirt. 
 
 85. Joel 2:1— 11. 
 
 Joel ii.— 1 Blow ye the trumpet in Zion, and sound 
 an alarm in my holy mountain : let all the inhabitants of 
 the land tremble : for the day of the Lord cometh, for it is 
 nigh at hand ; 2 A day of darkness and of gloominess, a 
 day of clouds and of thick darkness, as the morning spread 
 upon the mountains : a great people and a strong ; there 
 hath not been ever the like, neither shall be any more 
 after it, even to the years of many generations. 3 A fire 
 devoureth before them ; and behind them a flame burn- 
 etii : the land is as the garden of Eden before them, 
 and behind them a desolate wilderness ; yea, and noth- 
 ing shall escape them. 4 The appearance of them is as 
 the appearance of horses ; and as horsemen so shall they 
 run. 5 Like the noise of chariots on the tops of moun- 
 tains shall they leap, like the noise of a flame of fire 
 that devoureth the stubble, as a strong people set in bat- 
 tle-array. 6 Before their face the people shall be much 
 pained ; all faces shall gather blackness. 7 They shall run 
 
Ex. 86.] SACRED ELO(lXIENCE. 353 
 
 like mighty men ; they shall climb the wall like men of 
 war ; and they shall march every one on his ways, and they 
 shall not break their ranks : 8 Neither shall one thrust 
 another ; they shall walk every one in his path : and when 
 they fall upon the sword, they shall not be wounded. 
 9 They shall run to and fro in the city ; they shall run 
 upon the wall, they shall climb up upon the houses ; they 
 shall enter in at. the windows like a thief. 10 The earth 
 shall quake before them ; the heavens shall tremble : the 
 sun and the moon shall be dark, and the stars shall with- 
 draw their shining : 1 1 And the Lord shall utter his voice 
 before his army : for his camp is very great : for he is strong 
 that executeth his word : for the day of the Lord is great 
 and very terrible ; and who can abide it ? 
 
 86. 2 Samuel 1:17—27. 
 
 2 Samuel i. — 17 And David lamented with this lamen- 
 tation over Saul, and over Jonathan his son : 18 (Also he 
 bade them teach the children of Judah the use of the bow : 
 behold, it is written in the book of Jasher.) 19 The beau- 
 ty of Israel is slain upon thy high places : how are the 
 mighty fallen ! 20 Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in 
 the streets of Askelon ; lest the daughters of the Philistines 
 rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. 
 21 Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew 3 neither 
 let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there 
 the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of 
 Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. 22 From 
 the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow 
 of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul return- 
 ed not empty. 23 Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleas- 
 ant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided : 
 they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions. 
 24 Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed 
 you in scarlet, with other delights ; who put on ornaments 
 of gold upon your apparel. 25 How are the mighty fallen 
 in the midst of the battle ! O Jonathan, thou wast slain in 
 thy high places. 26 I am distressed for thee, my brother 
 Jonathan ; very pleasant hast thou been unto me : thy love 
 30* 
 
354 exercises. [Ex.. 87. 
 
 to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. 27 How 
 are the mighty fallen and the weapons of war perished ! 
 
 87. Revelation. 
 
 All truth is from the sempiternal source 
 Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, 
 Drew from the stream below. More favour'd, we 
 Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain-head. 
 5 To them it flow'd much mingled and defiFd 
 With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams 
 Illusive of philosophy, so call'd, 
 But falsely. Sages after sages strove 
 In vain to filter off a crystal draught 
 10 Pure from the lees, which often more enhanc'd 
 The thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred 
 Intoxication and delirium wild. 
 In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth 
 And spring-time of the world ; ask'd, Whence is man ? 
 15 Why form'd at all ? and wherefore as he is ? 
 
 Where must he find his Maker 1 with what rites 
 
 Adore him 1 Will he hear, accept, and bless ? 
 
 Or does he sit regardless of his works ? 
 
 Has man within him an immortal seed ? 
 20 Or does the tomb take all ? If he survive 
 
 His ashes, where 1 and in what weal or wo ? 
 
 Knots worthy of solution, which alone 
 
 A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague 
 
 And all at random, fabulous and dark, 
 25 Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life, 
 
 Defective and unsanction'd, prov'd too weak 
 
 To bind the roving appetite, and lead 
 
 Blind nature to a God not yet reveal'd. 
 
 Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts, 
 30 Explains all mysteries except her own, 
 
 And so illuminates the path of life, 
 
 That fools discover it, and stray no more. 
 
 Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir, 
 
 My man of morals, nurtur'd in the shades 
 35 Of Academus — is this false or true ? 
 
Ex. 88.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 355 
 
 Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools 1 
 
 If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry turn 
 
 To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short 
 
 Of man's occasions, when in him reside 
 40 Grace, knowledge, comfort — an unfathom'd store ? 
 
 How oft, when Paul has serv'd us with a text, 
 
 Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd ! 
 
 Men that, if now alive, would sit content 
 
 And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, 
 45 Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth, 
 
 Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too ! 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 88. Daniel 9: 3—19. 
 
 Dan. ix. — 3 And I set my face unto the Lord God, to 
 seek by prayer and supplications, with fasting, and sack- 
 cloth, and ashes : 4 And I prayed unto the Lord my God, 
 and made my confession, and said, O Lord, the great and 
 dreadful God, keeping the covenant and mercy to them that 
 love him, and to them that keep his commandments ; 5 
 We have sinned, and have committed iniquity, and have 
 done wickedly, and have rebelled, even by departing from 
 thy precepts and from thy judgments : 6 Neither have 
 we hearkened unto thy servants the prophets, which spake 
 in thy name to our kings, our princes, and our fathers, and 
 to all the people of the land. 7 O Lord, righteousness be- 
 longeth unto thee, but unto us confusion of faces, as at 
 this day : to the men of Judah, and to the inhabitants of 
 Jerusalem, and unto all Israel, that are near, and that 
 are far off, through all the countries whither thou has 
 driven them, because of their trespass that they have 
 trespassed against thee. 8 O Lord, to us belongeth con- 
 fusion of face, to our kings, to our princes, and to our 
 fathers, because we have sinned against thee. 9 To the 
 Lord our God belong mercies and forgiveness, though we 
 have rebelled against him ; 10 Neither have we obeyed 
 the voice of the Lord our God, to walk in his laws, which 
 he set before us by his servants the prophets. 11 Yea, all 
 Israel have transgressed thy law, even by departing, that 
 they might not obey thy voice ; therefore the curse is pour- 
 
 A 
 
035 EXERCISES* [Ex. h ( J. 
 
 ed upon us, and the oath that is written in the law of Moses 
 the servant of God, because we have sinned against him. 
 12 And he hath confirmed his words, which he spake against 
 us, and against our judges that judged us, by bringing upon 
 us a great evil : for under the whole heaven hath not been 
 done as hath been done upon Jerusalem. 13 As it is written 
 in the law of Moses, all this evil is come upon us : yet made 
 we notour prayer before the Lord our God, that we might turn 
 from our iniquities, and understand thy truth. 14 Therefore 
 hath the Lord watched upon the evil, and brought it upon 
 us : for the Lord our God is righteous in all his works which 
 he doeth : for we obeyed not his voice. 15 And now, O 
 Lord our God, that hast brought thy people forth out of the 
 land of Egypt with a mighty hand, and hast gotten thee 
 renown, as at this day ; we have sinned, we have done wick- 
 edly. 
 
 16 O Lord, according to all thy righteousness, I beseech 
 thee, let thine anger and thy fury be turned away from thy 
 city Jerusalem, thy holy mountain : because for our sins 
 and for the iniquities of our fathers, Jerusalem and thy peo- 
 ple are become a reproach to all that are about us. 17 Now 
 therefore, O our God, hear the prayer of thy servant, and 
 his supplications, and cause thy face to shine upon thy sanc- 
 tuary, that is desolate, for the Lord's sake. 18 O my God, 
 incline thine ear, and hear ; open thine eyes, and behold 
 our desolations, and the city which is called by thy name : 
 for we do not present our supplications before thee for our 
 righteousness, but for thy great mercies. 19 O Lord, hear ; 
 O Lord, forgive; O Lord, hearken and do; defer not, for 
 thine own sake, O my God : for thy city and thy people are 
 called by thy name. 
 
 89. Success of the Gospel. 
 
 The assumption that our cause is declining is utterly 
 gratuitous. We think it not difficult to prove that the 
 distinctive principles we so much venerate, never sway- 
 ed so powerful an influence over the destinies of the 
 5 human race, as at this very moment. Point us to those 
 nations of the earth to whom moral and intellectual cul- 
 tivation, inexhaustible resources, progress in arts and 
 
Ex. 89.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 357 
 
 sagacity in council, have assigned the highest rank in 
 political importance, and you point us to nations, whose 
 
 10 religious opinions are most closely allied to those we 
 cherish. Besides, when was there a period, since the 
 days of the Apostles, in which so many converts have 
 been made to these principles as have been made, both 
 from christian and pagan nations, within the last five 
 
 15 and twenty years. Never did the people of the saints 
 of the Most High look so much like going forth in seri- 
 ous earnest, to take possession of the kingdom and do- 
 minion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the 
 whole heaven as at this very day. 
 
 20 But suppose the cause did seem declining, we should 
 see no reason to relax our exertions, for Jesus Christ 
 has said, preach the gospel to every creature, and ap- 
 pearances, whether prosperous or adverse, alter not the 
 obligation to obey a positive command of Almighty God. 
 
 25 Again, suppose all that is affirmed were true. If it 
 must be, let it be. Let the dark cloud of infidelity over- 
 spread Europe, cross the ocean, and cover our beloved 
 land — let nation after nation swerve from the faith — let 
 iniquity abound, and the love of many wax cold, even 
 
 30 until there is on the face of this earth, but one pure 
 church of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ — all we 
 ask is, that we may be members of that one church. 
 God grant that we may throw ourselves into this Ther- 
 mopylae of the moral universe. 
 
 35 But even then, we should have no fear that the church 
 of God would be exterminated. We would call to re- 
 membrance the years of the right hand of the Most 
 High. We would recollect there was once a time, 
 when the whole church of Christ, not only could be, 
 
 40 but actually was gathered with one accord in one place. 
 It was then that that place was shaken, as with a rush- 
 ing mighty wind, and they were all filled with the Ho- 
 ly Ghost. That same day, three thousand were added 
 to the Lord. Soon, we hear, they have filled Jerusalem 
 
 45 with their doctrine. — The church has commenced her 
 march — Samaria has with one accord believed the gos- 
 pel — Antioch has become obedient to the faith — the 
 name of Christ has been proclaimed throughout Asia 
 
358 exercises. [Ex. 90. 
 
 Minor — the temples of the gods, as though smitten by 
 
 50 an invisible hand, are deserted — the citizens of Ephesus 
 
 cry out in despair, Great is Diana of the Ephesians — 
 
 licentious Corinth is purified by the preaching of Christ 
 
 crucified. Persecution puts forth her arm to arrest the 
 
 spreading superstition, but the progress of the faith can- 
 
 55 not be stayed. The church of God advances unhurt 
 
 amidst rocks and dungeons, persecutions and death — 
 
 she has entered Italy, and appears before the walls of 
 
 the Eternal City — idolatry falls prostrate at her approach 
 
 — her ensign floats in triumph over the capitol — she has 
 
 60 placed upon her brow the diadem of the Ca?sars. 
 
 Wayland. 
 
 90. The events of Providence promotive of the end 
 of Missions. 
 
 Little did Julius Caesar imagine, when the white cliffs 
 of Britain, glittering in the sun, excited his ambition and 
 drew him across the Channel, for what purpose he dis- 
 embarked his legions on our coast ; but we know that it 
 
 5 was to open a door through which the Gospel might en- 
 ter our beloved country. Little did the spirit of com- 
 mercial enterprise imagine, when urged only by its 
 thirst for gold, it fixed its establishments at the mouth 
 of the Hoogley or on the banks of the Ganges, that it 
 
 10 was sent thither as the forerunner of Christian Mission- 
 aries. Little does the genius of war imagine, when im- 
 pelling its mad votaries to new contests, that Christiani- 
 ty is following at a distance, in the rear of victorious 
 armies, to plant her stations on the fields of their en- 
 
 15 campment, to bear away the best of the spoils, and as- 
 sume the dominion which other potentates have lost. 
 Little did Columbus imagine, when with a heart big 
 with mighty projects, he walked in silence on the shores 
 of Andalusia, and watched the star of evening down the 
 
 20 western sky, who it was that dictated the purpose to ex- 
 plore the region which she went nightly to visit on the 
 other side of the Atlantic. We, however, live at a 
 time when all these events are clearly seen to connect 
 themselves with the grand purpose of Jehovah, " to bring 
 
Ex.91.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 359 
 
 35 all men to Christ." And the people of future genera- 
 tions will as clearly discern the same relation in the 
 circumstances of our day. 
 
 I am about to urge a crusade to the heathen world ; 
 far different, however, from that dreadful superstition, 
 
 30 which in the midnight of the dark ages, disturbed the 
 deep slumbers of the globe, and bursting forth like a 
 volcano, precipitated all Europe in a state of fusion, 
 upon the lovely vallies of Judea. Our object is not to 
 recover the holy sepulchre from the possession of here- 
 
 35 tics, but to make known the death of Him that descend- 
 ed to it,, to wrest the keys of empire from the king of 
 terrors : — the weapons of our warfare, are not carnal, 
 as the sword, the spear, and the battle axe ; but spirit- 
 ual as the doctrines of the Gospel exhibited in the ser- 
 
 40 mons of our Missionaries : — the line of our march will 
 not be marked by ensanguined fields, and the reign of 
 desolation, but by the comforts of civilization and the 
 blessings of Christianity. We shall not be followed in 
 our career by the groans of dying warriors, and the 
 
 45 shrieks of bereaved widows, but by the songs of redeem- 
 ed sinners, and the shouts of enraptured angels ; our 
 laurels will be stained with no blood but that of the 
 Lamb of God, and drip with no tears, but those of pen- 
 itence and joy ; — while our trophies will consist, not of 
 
 50 bits of the true cross, or shreds of the Virgin's robe, but 
 in the rejected idols of Pomare, with the regenerated 
 souls of those who once adored them. James. 
 
 91. The Hatefulness of War. 
 
 Apart altogether from the evil of war, let us just take 
 a direct look of it, and see whether we can find its char- 
 acter engraven on the aspect it bears to the eye of an 
 attentive observer. The stoutest heart of this assembly 
 would recoil, were he who owns it to behold the de- 
 struction of a single individual by some deed of violence. 
 Were the man who at this moment stands before you in 
 the full play and energy of health, to be in another mo- 
 ment laid by some deadly aim a lifeless corpse at your 
 
360 exercises. [Ex.91. 
 
 10 feet, there is not one of you who would not prove how 
 strong are the relentings of nature at a spectacle so hid- 
 eous as death. There are some of you who would be 
 haunted for whole days by the image of horror you had 
 witnessed, — who would feel the weight of a most oppres- 
 
 15 sive sensation upon your heart, which nothing but time 
 could wear away, — who would be so pursued by it as to 
 be unfit for business or for enjoyment, — who would think 
 of it through the day, and it would spread a gloomy dis- 
 quietude over your waking moments, — who would dream 
 
 20 of it at night, and it would turn that bed which you 
 courted as a retreat from the torments of an ever-med- 
 dling memory, into a scene of restlessness. 
 
 But generally the death of violence is not instantane- 
 ous, and there is often a sad and dreary interval between 
 
 25 its final consummation, and the infliction of the biow 
 which causes it. The winged messenger of destruction 
 has not found its direct avenue to that spot, where the 
 principle of life is situated; and the soul, finding obsta- 
 cles to its immediate egress, has to struggle it for hours 
 
 30 ere it can make its dreary way through the winding 
 avenues of that tenement, which has been torn open by 
 a brother's hand. O ! if there be something appalling 
 in the suddenness of death, think not that, when grad- 
 ual in its advances, you will alleviate the horrors of this 
 
 35 sickening contemplation by viewing it in a milder form. 
 O ! tell me, if there be any relentings of pity in your 
 bosom, how could you endure it, to behold the agonies 
 of the dying man,— as goaded by pain he grasps the cold 
 ground in convulsive energy, or faint with the loss of 
 
 40 blood, his pulse ebbs low, and the gathering paleness 
 spreads itself over his countenance, — or wrapping him- 
 self round in despair, he can only mark, by a few feeble 
 quiverings, that life still lurks and lingers in his lacerat- 
 ed body, — or lifting up a faded eye, he casts on you a 
 
 45 look of imploring helplessness, for that succour which 
 no sympathy can yield him ? 
 
 It may be painful to dwell on such a representation, 
 — but this is the way in which the cause of humanity is 
 served. The eye of the sentimentalist turns away from 
 
Ex. 92. j SACRED ELOQUENCE. 361 
 
 50 its sufferings, and he passes by on the other side, lest he 
 hear that pleading voice, which is armed with a tone of 
 remonstrance so vigorous as to disturb him. He cannot 
 bear thus to pause, in imagination, on the distressing 
 picture of one individual ; but multiply it ten thousand 
 
 55 times, — say, how much of all this distress has been heap- 
 ed together on a single field, — give us the arithmetic 
 of this accumulated wretchedness, and lay it before us 
 with all the accuracy of an official computation, — and, 
 strange to tell, not one sigh is lifted up among the crowd 
 
 CO of eager listeners, as they stand on tiptoe, and catch 
 every syllable of utterance which is read to them out of 
 the registers of death. O ! say, what mystic spell is 
 that which so blinds us to the suffering of our brethren, 
 — which deafens to our ear the voice of bleeding hu- 
 
 65 inanity, when it is aggravated by the shriek of dying 
 thousands, — which makes the very magnitude of the 
 slaughter, throw a softening disguise over its cruelties, 
 and its horrors, — which causes us to eye with indiffer- 
 ence the field that is crowded with the most revolting 
 
 70 abominations, and arrests that sigh, which each individ- 
 ual would singly have drawn from us, by the report of 
 the many who have fallen, and breathed their last in ag- 
 ony, along with him 1 Chalmers, 
 
 92. The Preservation of the Church. 
 
 The long existence of the Christian church would be 
 pronounced, upon common principles of reasoning, im- 
 possible. She finds in every man a natural and invete- 
 rate enemy. To encounter and overcome the unani- 
 
 5 mous hostility of the world, she boasts no political strat- 
 agem, no disciplined legions, no outward coercion of 
 any kind. Yet her expectation is that she live forever. 
 To mock this hope, and to blot out her memorial from 
 under heaven, the most furious efforts of fanaticism, the 
 
 10 most ingenious arts of statesmen, the concentrated 
 strength of empires, have been frequently and persever- 
 ingly applied. The blood of her sons and her daugh- 
 ters has streamed like water ; the smoke of the scaffold 
 31 
 
362 exercises. [Ex. 92. 
 
 and the stake, where they wore the crown of martyrdom 
 
 15 in the cause of Jesus, has ascended in thick volumes to 
 the skies. The tribes of persecution have sported over 
 her woes, and erected monuments, as they imagined, 
 of her perpetual ruin. But where are her tyrants, and 
 where their empires ? the tyrants have long since gone 
 
 20 to their own place ; their names have descended upon 
 the roll of infamy ; their empires have passed, like shad- 
 ows over the rock — they have successively disappeared, 
 and left not a trace behind ! 
 
 But what became of the church? She rose from 
 
 25 her ashes fresh in beauty and might. Celestial glory 
 beamed around her ; she dashed down the monumental 
 marble of her foes, and they who hated her fled before 
 her. She has celebrated the funeral of kings and king- 
 doms that plotted her destruction ; and, with the in- 
 
 30 scriptions of their pride, has transmitted to posterity 
 the records of their shame. How shall this phenome- 
 non be explained 7 We are at the present moment, 
 witnesses of the fact ; but who can unfold the mystery. 
 The book of truth and life, has made our wonder to 
 
 85 cease. * The Lord her God in the midst of her is 
 mighty.' His presence is a fountain of health, and 
 his protection a ' wall of fire.' He has betrothed her, 
 in eternal covenant to himself. Her living head, in 
 whom she lives, is above, and his quickening spirit 
 
 40 shall never depart from her. Armed with divine vir- 
 tue, his gospel, secret, silent, unobserved, enters the 
 hearts of men and sets up an everlasting kingdom. It 
 eludes all the vigilance, and baffles all the power of the 
 adversary. Bars, and bolts, and dungeons are no ob- 
 
 45 stacle to its approach : Bonds, and tortures, and death 
 cannot extinguish its influence. Let no man's heart, 
 tremble, then, because of fear. Let no man despair, 
 (in these days of rebuke and blasphemy,) of the Chris- 
 tian cause. The ark is launched, indeed, upon the 
 
 50 floods ; the tempest sweeps along the deep ; the billows 
 break over her on every side. But Jehovah-Jesus has 
 promised to conduct her in safety to the haven of peace. 
 She cannot be lost unless the pilot perish. Mason, 
 
. 93. xE] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 363 
 
 93. Obligations to the Pilgrims. 
 
 Let us go back to the rock, where the Pilgrims 
 first stood, and look abroad upon this wide and happy 
 land, so full of their lineal or adopted sons, and repeat 
 the question, to whom do we owe it, that " the wilder- 
 
 5 ness has thus been turned into a fruitful field, and the 
 desert has become as the garden of the Lord V To 
 whom do we owe it, under an all-wise Providence, that 
 this nation, so miraculously born, is now contributing 
 with such effect to the weifare of the human family, by 
 10 aiding the march of mental and moral improvement, 
 and giving an example to the nations of what it is to be 
 pious, intelligent, and free ? To whom do we owe it, 
 that with us the great ends of the social compact are ac- 
 complished to a degree of perfection never before real- 
 
 15 ized ; that the union of public power and private liber- 
 ty is here exhibited in a harmony so singular and per- 
 fect, as to allow the might of political combination to 
 rest upon the basis of individual virtue, and to call into 
 exercise, by the very freedom which such a union gives. 
 
 *20 all the powers that contribute to national prosperity ? 
 To whom do we owe it, that the pure and powerful 
 light of the gospel is now shed abroad over these coun- 
 tries, and is rapidly gaining upon the darkness of the 
 western world ; — that the importance of religion to the 
 
 :25 temporal welfare of men, and to the permanence of wise 
 institutions is here beginning to be felt in its just meas- 
 ure ; — that the influence of a divine revelation is not 
 here, as in almost every other section of Christendom, 
 wrested to purposes of worldly ambition ; — that the ho- 
 
 30 ly Bible is not sealed from the eyes of those for whom it 
 was intended ; — and the best charities and noblest pow- 
 ers of the soul degraded by the terrors of a dark and 
 artful superstition ? To whom do we owe it, that in 
 this favoured land the gospel of the grace of God has 
 
 35 best displayed its power to bless humanity, by uniting 
 the anticipations of a better world with the highest in- 
 terests and pursuits of this ; — by carrying its merciful 
 influence into the very business and bosoms of men :— 
 
304 exercises. [Ex. 94. 
 
 by making the ignorant wise and the miserable happy ; 
 
 40 — by breaking the fetters of the slave, and teaching 
 " the babe and the suckling" those simple and sublime 
 truths, which give to life its dignity and virtue, and fill 
 immortality with hope ? — To whom do we owe all this ? 
 Doubtless to the Plymouth Pilgrims ! — Happily did one 
 
 45 of those fearless exiles exclaim, in view of all that was 
 past, and of the blessing, and honour, and glory that 
 was yet to come, " God hath sifted three kingdoms, that 
 he might gather the choice grain, and plant it in the 
 wilderness !" Wliclplcy. 
 
 94. A Future State. 
 
 Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
 And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year. 
 How dead the vegetable kingdom lies ! 
 How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 
 5 His desolate domain. Behold, fond man ! 
 
 See here thy pictur'd life : pass some few years, 
 Thy flow'ring Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, 
 The sober Autumn fading into age, 
 And pale concluding Winter comes at last, 
 
 10 And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled 
 Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes 
 Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? 
 Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? 
 Those gay-spent, festive nights ? those veering thoughts 
 
 15 Lost between good and ill, that shar'd thy life ? 
 All now are vanished ! Virtue sole survives, 
 Immortal never-failing friend of man, 
 His guide to happiness on high. And see ! 
 'Tis come, the glorious morn ! the second birth 
 
 20 Of heav'n and earth ! awak'ning Nature hears 
 The new-creating word, and starts to life, 
 In ev'ry heighten'd form, from pain and death 
 For ever free. The great eternal scheme, 
 Involving all, and in a perfect whole 
 
 25 Uniting as the prospect wider spreads, 
 To reason's eye refin'd, clears up apace. 
 
Ex. 95.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 365 
 
 Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presumptuous ! now, 
 Confounded in the dust, adore that Pow'r 
 And Wisdom oft arraign'd ; see now the cause 
 
 30 Why unassuming worth in secret liv'd, 
 
 And died neglected : why the good man's share 
 In life was gall and bitterness of soul : 
 Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd 
 In starving solitude ; while luxury, 
 
 35 In palaces, lay straining her low thought, 
 
 To form unreal wants ; why heaven-born truth. 
 And moderation fair, wore the red marks 
 Of superstition's scourge : why licens'd pain, 
 That cruel spoiler, that embosom'd foe, 
 
 40 Imbitter'd all our bliss. Ye good distress'd ! 
 Ye noble few ! who here unbending stand 
 Beneath life's pressure, yet bear up a while, 
 And what your bounded view, which only saw 
 A little part, deem'd evil, is no more ; 
 
 45 The storms of Wintry Time will quickly pass, 
 
 And one unbounded Spring encircle all. Thomson. 
 
 95. Present facilities for evangelizing the world compared 
 with those of Primitive times. 
 
 The means of extending knowledge, and influencing 
 the human mind by argument and moral power, are 
 multiplied a thousand fold. The Lancasterian mode of 
 instruction renders the instruction of the world cheap 
 5 and easy. The improvements of the press have re- 
 duced immensely, and will reduce yet more, the price 
 of books, bringing not only Tracts and Bibles, but even 
 libraries within the reach of every man and every child. 
 But in the primitive age, the light of science beamed 
 
 10 only on a small portion of mankind. The mass of man- 
 kind were not, and could not be, instructed to read. 
 Every thing was transient and fluctuating, because so 
 little was made permanent in books, and general knowl- 
 edge, and so much depended on the character, the life 
 
 15 and energy of the living teacher. The press, that lev- 
 er of Archimedes, which now moves the world, was un- 
 known. 
 
 31* 
 
3G6 exercises. [Ex. 95. 
 
 It was the extinction of science by the invasion of 
 the northern barbarians, which threw back the world ten 
 
 20 centuries ; and this it effected through the want of per- 
 manent instruction, and the omnipotent control of opin- 
 ion which is exerted by the press. Could Paul have 
 put in requisition the press, as it is now put in requisition 
 by Christianity, and have availed himself of literary so- 
 
 25 cieties, and Bible societies, and Lancastrian schools 
 to teach the entire population, to read, and of Bibles, 
 and Libraries and Tracts, Mahomet had never opened 
 the bottomless pit, and the Pope had never set his foot 
 upon the neck of kings, nor deluged Europe with the 
 
 .30 blood of the saints. 
 
 Should any be still disposed to insist, that our advan- 
 tages for evangelizing the world, are not to be compar- 
 ed with those of the apostolic age, let them reverse the 
 scene, and roll back the wheels of time, and obliterate 
 
 *5o the improvements in science and commerce and arts, 
 which now facilitate the spread of the Gospel. Let them 
 throw into darkness all the known portions of the earth, 
 which were then unknown. Let them throw into dis- 
 tance the propinquity of nations ; and exchange their 
 
 40 rapid intercourse for cheerless, insulated existence. 
 Let the magnetic power be forgotten, and the timid 
 navigator creep along the coasts of the Mediterranean, 
 and tremble and cling to the shore when he looks 
 out upon the loud waves of the Atlantic. Inspire 
 
 45 idolatry with the vigor of meridian manhood, and arm 
 in its defence, and against Christianity, all the civiliza- 
 tion, and science, and mental power of the world. Give 
 back to the implacable Jew his inverate unbelief, and 
 his vantage ground, and disposition to oppose Christian- 
 
 50 ity in every place of his dispersion, from Jerusalem to 
 every extremity of the Roman Empire. Blot out the 
 means of extending knowledge and exerting influence 
 upon the human mind. Destroy the Lancasterian sys- 
 tem of instruction, and throw back the mass of men into 
 
 55 a state of unreading, unreflecting ignorance. Blot out 
 libraries, and Tracts ; abolish Bible and Education and 
 Tract and Missionary Societies ; and send the nations 
 for knowledge parchment, and the slow and limited pro- 
 ductions of the pen. Let all the improvements in civil 
 
Ex. 96.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 367 
 
 CO government be obliterated, and the world be driven from 
 the happy arts of self-government to the guardianship of 
 dungeons and chains. Let liberty of conscience ex- 
 pire, and the church, now emancipated, and walking 
 forth in her unsullied loveliness, return to the guidance 
 
 65 of secular policy, and the perversions and corruptions 
 of an unholy priesthood. And now reduce the 200, 
 000,000 of nominal, and the 10,000,000 of real Chris- 
 tians, spread over the earth, to 500 disciples, and to 
 twelve apostles, assembled, for fear of the Jews, in an 
 
 70 upper*chamber to enjoy the blessings of a secret prayer 
 meeting. And give them the power of miracles, and 
 the gift of tongues, and send them out into all the earth 
 to preach the Gospel to every creature. 
 
 Is this the apostolic advantage for propagating Chris- 
 
 75 tianity, which throws into discouragement and hopeless 
 imbecility all our present means of enlightening and 
 disenthralling the world ? They, comparatively, had 
 nothing to begin with, and every thing to oppose them ; 
 and yet, in three hundred years, the whole civilized, and 
 
 80 much of the barbarous, world, was brought under the 
 dominion of Christianity. And shall we with the ad- 
 vantage of all their labors, and of our numbers, and a 
 thousand fold increase of opportunity, and moral power, 
 stand halting in unbelief, while the Lord Jesus is still 
 
 85 repeating the injunction, Go ye out into all the world, 
 and preach the Gospel to every creature : and repeat- 
 ing the assurance, Lo I am with you alway, even to the 
 end of the world ? Shame on our sloth ! Shame upon 
 our unbelief? Bcecher, 
 
 96. Civilization merely ineffectual to convert the world. 
 
 Suppose that, out of compliment to the mockers of 
 Missionary zeal, we relinquished its highest, and indeed 
 its identifying object : suppose we confined our efforts 
 exclusively to civilization, and consented to send the 
 plough and the loom instead of the cross : and admitting 
 that upon this reduced scale of operation, we were as 
 successful as could be desired, till we had even raised 
 
3G8 exercises. [Ex. PC. 
 
 the man of the woods into the man of the city, and ele- 
 vated the savage into the sage, what, I ask, have we ef- 
 
 10 fected, viewing man, as we with the New Testament in 
 our hands must view him, in the whole range of his ex- 
 istence ? We have poured the light of science on his 
 path, and strewed it with the flowers of literature, but if 
 we leave him to the dominion of his vices, it is still the 
 
 15 path to perdition. We have taught him to fare sumptu- 
 ously every day ; but alas ! this, in his case, is only like 
 offering viands to the wretch who is on his way to the 
 place of execution. We have stripped off his sheep-skin 
 kaross, and clothed him with purple and fine linen, but 
 
 20 it is only to aid him, like Dives, to move in state to the 
 torments of the damned. We may raise the sculptured 
 monument upon his bones, in place of the earthly hil- 
 lock in the wilderness, but while his ashes repose in gran- 
 deur, the worm that never dies devours his soul, and 
 
 25 the flame that can never be extinguished consumes his 
 peace. We confer a boon, which is valuable, it is true, 
 while it lasts, but it is a boon which the soul drops as 
 she steps across the confines of the unseen world, and 
 then passes on to wander through eternity, " wretched, 
 
 30 and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked." But 
 let us aim first to save the soul, by bringing it under the 
 influence of Christianity, and then as we advance to the 
 ultimate end of our exertions, we shall not fail to scatter 
 along the path of our benevolence all the seeds of civili- 
 
 35 zation and social order. 
 
 What is it which, at this moment, is kindling the in- 
 tellect, softening the manners, sanctifying the hearts, and 
 purifying the lives of the numerous tribes of the degraded 
 
 40 sons of Ham ? It is the faithful saying, " that Christ Je- 
 sus cauie into the world to save sinners." It is this, 
 poured in artless strains from the lips of our Missiona- 
 ries, and set home upon the soul, by the power of the 
 Holy Ghost, which is more than realising the fable of 
 
 45 Amphion's lyre, and raising up the stones of African 
 deserts, into the walls of the church of God. 
 
 O, had the cannibal inhabitants of Taheite been per- 
 suaded to renounce their wretched superstition and cru- 
 
Ex. 97.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 369 
 
 el customs, by any efforts of a purely rational nature ; 
 
 50 had the apostles of philosophy been the instruments of 
 their conversion, and had the gods of Pomare been sent 
 home by them, to be deposited in the Museum, in- 
 stead of the Missionary Rooms, how would the world 
 have rung with the praises of all-sufficient Reason. 
 
 55 New temples would have been raised to this modern 
 Minerva, while all the tribes of the Illuminati would 
 have been seen moving in triumphal procession to her 
 shrine, chanting as they went the honours of their il- 
 lustrious goddess. But thine, thou crucified Redeem- 
 
 60 er ; thine is the power, and thine shall be the glory of 
 
 this conquest. Those isles of the Southern Sea shall 
 
 be laid at thy feet, as the trophies of thy cross, and 
 
 shall be added as fresh jewels to thy mediatorial crown. 
 
 And, indeed, not to quit our own age, or our own 
 
 65 land, do we not see all around us the attractions of the 
 cross 1 What is it that guides and governs the tide of 
 religious popularity, whether it rolls in the channels of 
 the Establishment, or those of Dissent 1 Is it not this, 
 which causes the mighty influx of the spring tide in one 
 
 70 place ; and is it not the absence of it, which occasions 
 the dull retiring ebb in another 1 Yes ! and raise me 
 but a barn, in the very shadow of St. Paul's Cathedral, 
 and give me a man who shall preach Christ crucified, 
 with something of the energy which the all-inspiring 
 
 75 theme is calculated to awaken ; and in spite of the 
 meanness of the one, and the magnificence of the other, 
 you shall see the former crowded with warm hearts, 
 while the matins and vespers of the latter, if the Gospel 
 be not preached there, shall be chanted to the statues 
 
 SO of the mighty dead. James. 
 
 97. The forebodings of heathen approaching death, 
 
 With what feelings must an intelligent heathen ap- 
 proach his final catastrophe ! He has seen his ancestors 
 go down to the dust, and often, when standing upon 
 their graves, has felt a distressing solicitude, which 
 5 nothing could relieve, to know something of that state 
 
370 exercises. [Ex. 98. 
 
 of being into which they had passed when they vanish- 
 ed from the earth. At length his own turn is arrived, 
 and he too must die. Whither is he going ? What is 
 to become of him ? If there be a God, how shall he 
 
 JO meet him ? If there be a future state, how and where 
 is he to spend it ? Not a whisper of consolation is 
 heard from the tomb, nor a ray of satisfactory light is 
 thrown upon its darkness by the instructions of the liv- 
 ing. Oh ! with what horror does he turn his half avert- 
 
 15 ed eye upon that sepulchre, in which he must shortly 
 be interred ; and with what dreadful efforts does he en- 
 deavour to force his reluctant spirit upon her destiny, 
 starting every moment at the spectres which rise in her 
 own perturbed imagination. Oh ! how much would he 
 
 20 give for some one to tell him what there is beyond the 
 grave, and what he must do to get rid of his guilt, so as 
 to be admitted to the world of the blessed. Just at this 
 time, one of our Missionaries reaches his abode, and 
 declares to him that Christ, by his death, has brought 
 
 25 life and immortality to light. This is music indeed : 
 he never heard such news before. The Spirit of God 
 gives effect to the word. He is drawn to Jesus, clasp- 
 ing to his bosom that doctrine, which gives him life in 
 death, and hope in despair. And he who but a few 
 
 30 weeks before was stumbling upon the dark mountains 
 of idolatry, just ready to be precipitated into eternal 
 night, quits the scene of his earthly existence with the 
 language of Simeon upon his lips, " Lord, now lettest 
 thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have 
 
 35 seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the 
 face of all people, a light to enlighten the Gentiles." 
 
 James. 
 
 98, The efficacy of the cross. 
 
 Wherever the Apostles went, the doctrine of the cross 
 was the theme of their public discourses, and the topic 
 of their more private instruction. Whether standing 
 amidst the elegancies of Corinth, the classic beauties of 
 5 Athens, the overwhelming grandeur of Rome, or the 
 hallowed scenes of Jerusalem, they presented this to all 
 men alike, They did not conceal the ignominy of the 
 
Ex. 98.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 371 
 
 accursed tree behind the sublime morality of the Gos- 
 pel, and permit the unsightly object to steal out only in- 
 10 sidiously and by degrees ; but exhibited it naked, and 
 at once, as the very foundation of that religion which 
 they were commissioned and inspired to promulgate. 
 When the Jew on one hand was demanding a sign, and 
 the Greek on the other was asking for wisdom, they re- 
 15 plied to both, " we preach Christ crucified." They 
 never courted the philosopher by a parade of science, 
 the orator by a blaze of eloquence, or the curious by the 
 aid of novelty. They tried no experiments, made no 
 digressions. Feeling the power of this sublime truth in 
 '20 their own souls ; enamoured by the thousand thousand 
 charms with which they saw it attended ; emboldened 
 by the victories which followed its career ; and acting 
 in obedience to that divine authority, which regulated 
 all their conduct, they kindled into raptures amidst the 
 "25 scorn and rage of an ungodly world, and in the fervor 
 of their zeal, threw off an impassioned sentiment, which 
 has been returned in distinct echo from every Christian 
 land, and been adopted as the watch-word of an evan- 
 gelical ministry, " God forbid that I should glory, save 
 30 in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 Wonderful was the effect of their labour. A revolu- 
 tion more extraordinary than history records, or imagin- 
 ation could have conceived, was every where effected, 
 and this by what was derided by the men who gave 
 35 laws to the opinions of the world, as " the foolishness of 
 preaching." The powers of paganism beheld the wor- 
 shippers of the gods drawn away from their shrines, by 
 an influence which they could neither understand nor 
 resist. Not the authority of the Olympian Jove, nor the 
 40 seductive rites of the Paphian Goddess, could any lon- 
 ger retain the homage of their former votaries. The 
 exquisite beauty of their temples and their statues, with 
 all those fascinations which their mythology was calcu- 
 lated to exert upon a people of refined taste and vicious 
 15 habits, became the objects not only of indifference but 
 abhorrence ; and millions by whom the cross must have 
 been contemplated with mental revulsion as a matter of 
 
o72 exercises. [Ex. 99. 
 
 taste, embraced it with exstacy as the means of salva- 
 tion. The idolatrous rites were deserted, the altars 
 
 50 overturned, the deities left to themselves to sympathise 
 with each other in dumb consternation, the lying voice 
 of the oracles was hushed, the deceptive light of philos- 
 ophy was extinguished, Satan fell like lightning from 
 heaven, while the ministers of light rose with the num- 
 
 55 ber, the order, and the brilliancy of the stars. Resis- 
 tance only promoted the cause it intended to oppose, 
 and persecution like the wind of heaven blowing upon 
 a conflagration, served only to spread the flame. In 
 vain " did the kings of the earth set themselves, and 
 
 60 the rulers take counsel together against the Lord." 
 The Imperial eagle collecting all her strength, and rous- 
 ing all her fury, attacked the Lamb of God, till she too, 
 subdued and captivated by the cross, cowered beneath 
 its emblem, as it floated from the towers of the capitol, 
 
 65 and Christianity with the purple waving from her shoul- 
 ders, and the diadem sparkling upon her brows, was 
 proclaimed to be the Truth of God, and the Empress of 
 the world, on that very throne of the Caesars where she 
 had been so often arraigned as a criminal, and condemn- 
 
 70 ed as an impostor. 
 
 What was it,- 1 ask, which, by the instrumentality of 
 Luther, and Melancthon, and Calvin, and Zuingle, dis- 
 solved the power of the Beast on the continent of Eu- 
 rope, and drew away a third part of his worshippers, 
 
 ^75 within the pale of a more scriptural communion ? It 
 was the doctrine of justification by faith in the blood of 
 Christ. 
 
 David Brainerd, the apostle of the American Indians, 
 has left upon record an essay to inform the world, that 
 
 80 it was by preaching Christ crucified, he was enabled to 
 raise a Christian church, in those desolate wilds where 
 he laboured, and among a barbarous people devoted to 
 witchcraft, drunkenness, and idolatry. 
 
 The Moravian Missionaries, those holy, patient, unos- 
 
 85 tentatious servants of our Lord, have employed with pe- 
 culiar effect these heaven appointed means, in convert- 
 ing and civilizing the once pilfering and murderous Es- 
 quimaux. With these, have they also " dared the ter- 
 
Ex. 99, 100.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 373 
 
 rorsof an Arctic sky, and directing their adventurous 
 90 course through the iioating fields and frost-reared pre- 
 cipices that guard the secrets of the Pole," have caused 
 the banner of the- cross to wave over the throne of ever- 
 lasting winter, and warmed the cold bosom of the shiv- 
 ering Greenlander with the love of Christ. James. 
 
 99. The Fall of Niagara. 
 
 The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, 
 While I look upward to thee. It would seem 
 As if God pour'd thee from his ' hollow hand,' 
 And hung his bow upon thy awful front ; 
 5 And spoke in that loud voice, which seem'd to him 
 Who dwelt it Patmos for his Saviour's sake, 
 1 The sound of many waters ;' and had bade 
 Thy flood to chronicle the ages back, 
 And notch His cent'ries in the eternal rocks. 
 
 10 Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we, 
 That hear the question of that voice sublime ? 
 Oh ! what are all the notes that ever rung 
 From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side ! 
 Yea, what is ail the riot man can make 
 
 15 In his short life, to thy unceasing roar ! 
 
 And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him, 
 Who drown'd a world, and heap'd the waters far 
 Above its loftiest mountains ? — a light wave, 
 That breaks, and whispers of its Maker's might. 
 
 Brainard. 
 
 100. Reform in Morals. 
 
 The crisis has come. By the people of this genera- 
 tion, by ourselves probably, the amazing question is to 
 be decided, whether the inheritance of our fathers shall 
 be preserved or thrown away ; whether our Sabbaths 
 5 shall be a delight or a loathing ; whether the taverns, 
 on that holy day, shall be crowded with drunkards, 
 or the sanctuary of God, with humble worshippers; 
 whether riot and profaneness shall fill our streets, and 
 poverty our dwellings, and convicts our jails, and vio- 
 32 
 
374 exercises. [Ex. 100. 
 
 10 lence our land, or whether industry, and temperance, 
 and righteousness, shall be the stability of our times ; 
 whether mild laws shall receive the cheerful sub- 
 mission of freemen, or the iron rod of a tyrant com- 
 pel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceiv- 
 
 15 ed. Human nature in this state is like human nature 
 every where. All actual difference in our favour is ad- 
 ventitious, and the result of our laws, institutions and 
 habits. It is a moral influence, which, with the bless- 
 ing of God, has formed a state of society so eminently 
 
 20 desirable. The same influence, which has formed it, is 
 indispensable to its preservation. The rocks and hills 
 of New-England will remain till the last conflagration. 
 But let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the 
 worship of God be abandoned, the government and re- 
 
 25 ligious instruction of children neglected, and the streams 
 of intemperance be permitted to flow, and her glory 
 will depart. The wall of fire will no more surround 
 her, and the munition of rocks will no longer be her 
 defence. 
 
 30 If we neglect our duty, and suffer our laws and insti- 
 tutions to go down, we give them up forever. It is easy 
 to relax, easy to retreat, but impossible, when the abom- 
 ination of desolation has once passed over New-Eng- 
 land, to rear again the thrown down altars, and gather 
 
 35 again the fragments, and build up the ruins of demol- 
 ished institutions. Another New-England, nor we, nor 
 our children shall ever see, if this be destroyed. All is 
 lost irretrievably, when the landmarks are once remov- 
 ed, and the bands which now hold us are once broken. 
 
 40 Such institutions, and such a state of society, can be es- 
 tablished only by such men as our fathers were, and in 
 such circumstances as they were in. They could not 
 have made a New-England in Holland. They made the 
 attempt, but failed. 
 
 45 The hand that overturns our laws and altars, is the 
 hand of death unbarring the gate of Pandemonium, and 
 letting loose upon our land the crimes and the miseries 
 of hell. If the Most High should stand aloof, and cast 
 not a single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it 
 
 50 would seem to be full of superlative woe. But he will 
 
Ex. 101.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 375 
 
 not stand aloof. As we shall have begun an open con- 
 troversy with him, he will contend openly with us. And 
 never, since the earth stood, has it been so fearful a 
 thing for nations to fall into the hands of the living God. 
 
 55 The day of vengeance is in his heart, the day of judgment 
 has come ; the great earthquake which sinks Babylon 
 is shaking the nations, and the waves of the mighty com- 
 motion are dashing upon every shore. Is this then a 
 time to remove foundations, when the earth itself is 
 
 <)0 shaken? Is this a time to forfeit the protection of God, 
 when the hearts of men are failing them for fear, and 
 for looking after those things which are coming on the 
 earth ? Is this a time to run upon his neck and the 
 thick bosses of his buckler, when the nations are drink- 
 
 05 ing blood, and fainting, and passing away in his wrath 1 
 Is this a time to throw away the shield of faith when his 
 arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain ? To cut 
 from the anchor of hope, when the clouds are collecting 
 and the sea and the waves are roaring, and thunders 
 
 70 are uttering their voices, and lightnings blazing in the 
 heavens, and the great hail is falling from heaven upon 
 men, and every mountain, sea and island is fleeing in 
 dismay from the face of an incensed God 1 Beecher. 
 
 101. Universal spread of the Bible. 
 
 It has been well said by a great politician of another 
 country, by Edmund Burke, that " religion is the basis 
 of civil society" — and especially, he might have added, 
 of a free state. And it has been said by a greater than 
 5 he, by our own Washington, that '* of all the dispositions 
 and habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion 
 and Morality are indispensable supports." And with- 
 out pursuing the idea through all its illustrations, (for 
 which I have not time) what, I would ask, without their 
 
 10 genial influences, what is to moderate and chasten that 
 pride of self-government, that lust of power, which is 
 generated, and inflamed by all our institutions ? What 
 is to prevent our liberty, great as it is, from lapsing in- 
 to licentiousness ? we hold, you know, (and rightly too,) 
 
 15 that all government is. or ought to be, made and manag- 
 
'W6 EXERCISES. [Ex. 101 
 
 ed for the benefit of the people. And we say that " we 
 the people" are the sovereigns of the country, the foun- 
 tain of law and honor ; and we appoint our rulers for 
 servants, to follow our instructions, and obey our will in 
 
 20 all things. And we maintain, (or many do) that we the 
 people can do rto wrong, and that our voice is the voice 
 of God. Here, you see, is absolute power, and it is 
 the nature of absolute power, we know, to corrupt and 
 inflate its holders, and that whether they be many or 
 
 25 few. And what now, I ask you, is to save us from 
 the abuse of all this power ? What is to prevent our 
 free democracy — especially when our country becomes 
 crowded with people, as it will be by and by, even 
 through our woods and prairies, and our cities are chok- 
 
 30 ed with men, almost stifling each other with their hot 
 breath — what is to prevent our free democracy from fol- 
 lowing its natural bent, and launching us all, or those 
 who come after us, into a wild and lawless anarchy ? I 
 know, that we plume ourselves, and with some rea- 
 
 35 son too, upon that principle of our government, almost 
 unknown to the ancients, which we are pleased to call 
 our invention, our discovery, though we might more tru- 
 ly and modestly term it our felicity, growing out of our 
 situation and circumstances, by the good providence of 
 
 40 God, our elective franchise ; and this, we think, is to 
 save us from their fates. But what, I would ask our 
 politicians, is to save our elective franchise itself? 
 What is to make it worth having? What is to make us 
 choose wise and honest men to make our laws ? What 
 
 45 is to execute them after they are made ? What is ■ to 
 save us the people from the ambition and treachery of 
 our own elected servants ? What is to keep our ser- 
 vants from becoming our masters ? And what is to 
 save us from ourselves — from our own passions and vices, 
 
 50 the only formidable enemies of republics ; the only 
 ones at least that we can or ought to dread ? Our 
 general intelligence and virtue — the general intelligence 
 and virtue of all classes of our people — with the blessing 
 of God Almighty upon us — and nothing else. But this 
 
 55 intelligence and virtue are to be shed abroad, in a great 
 measure, by the Bible, and the Bible alone. It is quite 
 
Ex. 101.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 377 
 
 clear at least, I think, that they can never be diffused 
 to any proper or sufficient extent through the mass of 
 the people, without a. free and generous circulation of 
 
 CO this book. And all experience, 1 think, ancient and 
 modern, confirms my sentiment. You remember Ath- 
 ens — she was the eye of Greece — the eye of all the earth 
 — and you remember how she rose, and flourished in 
 arts and arms, and diffused herself abroad, till she be- 
 
 65 came the light and beauty of the world. But now, alas ! 
 how changed ! — she sits among her fallen columns, and 
 her broken shrines — accusing fate. And why ? Her 
 oracle is dumb ; but I will answer for her — it is because 
 she had no Bible. True, she was religious enough, and 
 
 70 overmuch, in her own way and style. For she had al- 
 ways, you know, a large stock of gods and goddess- 
 es, (such as they were) on hand, to suit the taste of ev- 
 ery body. And she manufactured them at home, and 
 imported them from abroad. And she commanded her 
 
 75 philosophers to extol them, and condemned the books of 
 her atheist scribbler to the flames. And she built tem- 
 ples for them, and raised statues to them, as fine, and 
 fair, and fashionable, as the genius of sculpture could 
 make them. And she had an altar for every one of 
 
 80 them that she knew or had ever heard of, ol* dreamed 
 about ; and one more — and it was inscribed " to the 
 unknown god." But there it was, — with all her wis- 
 dom she knew not God — for she had no Bible, bringing 
 life and immortality to light, to reveal him to her. In 
 
 85 vain, therefore, did she guard that statue of Minerva in 
 her temple. She had no Bible to diffuse the knowledge 
 of God, and intelligence and virtue along with it, among 
 her people — she had no Bible — and she fell. And 
 what now, I ask you, is to save our city, our repub- 
 
 90 lie, from the same fate ? That Bible which she want- 
 ed ; but which, I thank God, we have. Yes, the Bible, 
 the Bible is our true palladium, sent down to us from 
 Heaven, to preserve our freedom ; and we will guard it 
 with holy care — for we know that whilst we keep it, our 
 
 95 city cannot be taken, our country will be safe. Yes, 
 and I cannot help imagining at this moment, remember- 
 32* 
 
►78 exercises. [Ex. 102. 
 
 ing whose words I have been extending, with what 
 joy that great and good man, whom we fondly and tru- 
 ly call, The Father of our country, would have hailed 
 
 ,100 the day of this Society. O ! if he could have seen its 
 light rising upon our land, with what zeal would he 
 have come forward from the shade of his retirement, to 
 enrol himself among its members and friends. With 
 what patriotic pride, with what Christian ardor, he 
 
 105 would have embraced our cause — and, like the good 
 old prophet in the temple, when he held up the young 
 Desire of Nations in his arms, he would have exclaim- 
 ed, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, 
 according to thy word ; for mine eyes have seen thy 
 
 110 salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of 
 all people, a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glo- 
 ry of thy people Israel !" Alas ! he " died without 
 the sight." But, from heaven where he lives, on this 
 auspicious anniversary of our Society, with the associ- 
 
 115 ated spirits of our venerable Boudinot, and Clarkson, 
 he looks down upon our institution with a smile of 
 complacency, because he sees in all our toils new 
 pledges for the peace, and safety, and freedom of his 
 still beloved country. Maxwell. 
 
 102. Isaiah xiii. 
 1 The sentence against Babylon, which was revealed to 
 
 Isaiah the son of Amots. 
 '2 On the lofty mountain, elevate the banner, 
 Lift up the voice to them,* wave the hand, 
 That they may enter into the gates of the tyrants. 
 
 3 I have given orders to my consecrated [warriors] 
 
 I have ordered my heroes [to execute] my indignation. 
 My proud exulters. 
 
 4 [Hark !] The noise of a multitude upon the mountains, 
 
 like that of a great nation ! 
 The tumult of kingdoms, of assembled nations ! 
 Jehovah God of Hosts mustereth his army for battle. 
 
 5 They come from a distant land, 
 From the end of the heaven, 
 
 * TheMedes. 
 
Ex. 102.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 370 
 
 Jehovah and the instruments of his indignation, 
 To lay waste the whole country. 
 
 6 Howl ye, for the day of Jehovah is near, 
 Yea, destruction from the Almighty is coming. 
 
 7 Therefore all hands shall hang down, 
 And every heart of man shall be melted. 
 
 8 They shall be in consternation, 
 
 Distress and anguish shall lay hold upon them, 
 As a travailing woman shall they be distressed, 
 One shall gaze upon another with astonishment, 
 Their faces shall glow like flames. 
 
 9 Behold ! The day of Jehovah cometh, 
 Dreadful is his anger and fierce indignation, 
 To make the country a waste, 
 
 And to destroy sinners out of it. 
 
 10 For the stars of heaven and the constellations thereof 
 Shall not give their light ; 
 
 The sun shall be darkened in his march, 
 And the moon shall withhold her splendour. 
 
 11 For I will visit upon the land its evil, 
 And upon the wicked, their iniquity, 
 
 I will make the glorying of the proud to cease, 
 
 And the haughtiness of the tyrants will I bring down. 
 
 12 I will make a man more scarce than gold, 
 Yea men, than the gold of Ophir. 
 
 13 Moreover I will make the heavens to shake, 
 And the earth shall totter from its place ; 
 Because of the indignation of Jehovah of hosts, 
 In the day of his fierce anger. 
 
 14 And men shall be like a frighted doe, 
 
 And like sheep, which no one collects together. 
 Each one shall turn to his own people, 
 And each fly to his own country. 
 
 15 Every one who is overtaken shall be thrust through, 
 And all who are collected together shall fall by the 
 
 sword. 
 
 16 Their children shall be dashed in pieces before their 
 
 eyes, 
 
380 exercises. [Ex. \()2. 
 
 Their houses shall be rifled, and their women ravished. 
 
 17 Behold, I will raise up against them the Medes, 
 Who make no account of silver, 
 
 And as to gold, they regard it not. 
 
 18 Their bows shall strike down the youth, 
 
 On the fruit of the womb they will have no compassion, 
 Their eye will not pity the children. 
 
 19 So shall Babylon, the pride of kingdoms, 
 The boast and glory of the Chaldeans, 
 
 Be like Sodom and Gomorrha which God destroyed ; 
 
 20 It shall never more be inhabited, 
 
 Nor shall it be dwelt in, from generation to generation. 
 
 There the Arabian shall not pitch his tent, 
 
 Nor the shepherds make their flocks to lie down there. 
 "31 But there the wild beasts of the desert shall lie down, 
 
 And howling monsters shall fill their houses, 
 
 There the ostriches shall dwell, 
 
 And the satyrs shall revel there. 
 22 The jackals shall howl in their palaces, 
 
 And the dragons in their magnificent pleasure-houses ; 
 
 For her time is near, 
 
 And her days shall not be prolonged. 
 
 Chapter xiv. 
 
 1 Then will Jehovah have compassion upon Jacob. 
 And set his love again upon Israel ; 
 
 And he will transfer them to their own country, 
 
 And strangers shall be joined to them, 
 
 They shall be connected with the house of Jacob. 
 
 2 The nations shall take them and bring them to their 
 
 place, 
 And the house of Israel shall possess them as servants 
 
 and handmaids, 
 In the land of Jehovah ; 
 And their captors shall become captives, 
 And they shall rule over their oppressors. 
 
 3 Then it shall come pass, 
 
 When Jehovah shall give thee rest from thy trouble and 
 thine adversity, 
 
 
Ex. 102.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 381 
 
 And from the oppressive service which was laid upon 
 thee, 
 
 4 Thou shalt utter this song over the king of Babylon, 
 
 and say ; 
 How has the oppressor come to an end, 
 The exactor of golden tribute ceased ! 
 
 5 Jehovah has broken the staff of the wicked, 
 The rod of the tyrants. 
 
 6 He smote the people in anger, 
 With a stroke that was not remitted ; 
 
 • He lorded it over the nations in wrath, 
 With oppression that never ceased. 
 
 7 But now the whole country is quiet, 
 They break out into singing. 
 
 8 The fir trees, also, exult over thee, 
 And the cedars of Lebanon, [saying], 
 " Since thou art laid there, 
 
 No feller has come up against us." 
 
 9 Hades from beneath is in commotion on account of thee, 
 To meet thee at thy coming. 
 
 Because of thee she rouses up her ghosts, 
 
 All the mighty ones of the earth she raises from their 
 thrones, 
 
 All the kings of the nations. 
 10 All of them will accost thee, and say, 
 
 " Art thou become feeble, as we are ? 
 
 Art thou become like unto us I'- 
 ll Down to Hades goes thy pomp, 
 
 And the noise of thy harps ! 
 
 The worm is thy couch under thee. 
 
 And the maggot is thy covering. 
 
 12 Bright and morning star, 
 
 How art thou fallen from heaven ! 
 How art thou prostrate upon the earth, 
 Who didst crush the nations ! 
 
 13 But thou didst say in thine heart; 
 " I will ascend the heavens, 
 
 Above the stars of God I will elevate my throne ; 
 I will sit on the mount of solemn assembly, 
 
382 exercises. [Ex. 102. 
 
 In the recesses of the north ; 
 
 14 I will mount above the height of the clouds, 
 I will be like the most high." 
 
 15 But, to Hades hast thou come down, 
 To the recesses of the pit. 
 
 16 Those that see thee shall gaze upon thee, 
 They shall attentively view thee, [and say,] 
 
 " Is this the man who made the earth to quake ? 
 Who made kingdoms to tremble ? 
 
 17 Who made the world a desert, 
 And laid waste its cities ? 
 
 Who dismissed not his prisoners to their home ?' ; 
 
 18 All the kings of the nations, 
 Yea all of them, repose in glory, 
 Each in his own place. 
 
 19 But thou art cast out from thy grave, 
 Like a loathsome branch ; 
 
 Thou art covered with the slain, 
 
 With those who are pierced through by the sword. 
 
 Who go down into the stony pit ; 
 
 Thy carcase is trodden under foot. 
 
 20 Thou shalt not be joined with them in burial, 
 For thou hast destroyed thy country, 
 
 Thou hast slain thy people ; 
 
 The seed of evil doers shall never more be named. 
 
 21 Prepare ye* slaughter for his children, 
 Because of the iniquity of their fathers ; 
 
 That they may never rise up and possess the [promised] 
 
 land, 
 Nor fill the country with enemies. 
 
 22 I will rise up against them, 
 Saith Jehovah of hosts ; 
 
 1 will cut off from Babylon the name and the residue. 
 Posterity and offspring, saith Jehovah. 
 
 23 I will make it a possession of the porcupine, 
 And [turn it] to pools of water ; 
 
 I will sweep it with the besom of destruction, 
 
 Saith Jehovah of hosts. Stuart's Translation. 
 
 * To the Medes. 
 
Ex. 103.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 383 
 
 103. Eternity of God, 
 
 If all who live and breathe around us are the creatures 
 of yesterday, and destined to see destruction to-morrow ; 
 if the same condition is our own, and the same sentence 
 is written against us ; if the solid forms of inanimate na- 
 5 ture and laborious art are fading and falling , if we look 
 in vain for durability to the very roots of the mountains, 
 where shall we turn, and on what can we rely ? Can 
 no support be offered ; can no source of confidence be 
 named ? Oh yes! there is one Being to whom we can 
 
 10 look with a perfect conviction of finding that security, 
 which nothing about us can give, and which nothing 
 about us can take away. To this Being we can lift up 
 our souls, and on him we may rest them, exclaiming in 
 the language of the monarch of Israel, " Before the 
 
 15 mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst form- 
 ed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to 
 everlasting thou art God." "Of old hast thou laid the 
 foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work 
 of thy hands. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure, 
 
 20 yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment, as a ves- 
 ture shalt thou change them, and they shall be chang- 
 ed, but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no 
 end." 
 
 The eternity of God is a subject of contemplation, 
 
 25 which, at the same time that it overwhelms us with as- 
 tonishment and awe, affords us an immoveable ground 
 of confidence in the midst of a changing world. All 
 things which surround us, all these dying, mouldering 
 inhabitants of time, must have had a Creator, for the plain 
 
 30 reason, that they could not have created themselves. 
 And their Creator must have existed from all eternity, 
 for the plain reason, that the first cause must necessa- 
 rily be uncaused. As we cannot suppose a beginning 
 without a cause of existence, that which is the cause of 
 
 35 all existence must be self-existent, and could have had 
 no beginning. And, as it had no beginning so also, as 
 it is beyond the reach of all influence and control, as it 
 is independent and almighty, it will have no end. 
 
384 exercises. [Ex. 103. 
 
 Here then is a support, which will never fail; here is 
 
 40 a foundation which can never be moved — the everlast- 
 ing Creator of countless worlds, " the high and lofty 
 One that inhabiteth eternity." What a sublime con- 
 ception ! He inhabits eternity, occupies this inconceiva- 
 ble duration, pervades and fills throughout this boundless 
 
 45 dwelling. Ages on ages before even the dust of which we 
 are formed was created, he had existed in infinite ma- 
 jesty, and ages on ages will roll away after we have all 
 returned to the dust whence we were taken, and still 
 he will exist in infinite majesty, living in the eternity 
 
 50 of his own nature, reigning in the plenitude of his own 
 omnipotence, for ever sending forth the word, which 
 forms, supports, and governs all things, commanding new 
 created light to shine on new created worlds, and rais- 
 ing up new created generations to inhabit them. 
 
 55 The contemplation of this glorious attribute of God, 
 is fitted to excite in our minds the most animating and 
 consoling reflections. Standing, as we are, amid the 
 ruins of time, and the wrecks of mortality, where every 
 thing about us is created and dependent, proceeding 
 
 60 from nothing, and hastening to destruction, we rejoice 
 that something is presented to our view which has stood 
 from everlasting, and will remain for ever. When we 
 have looked on the pleasures of life, and they have van- 
 ished away ; when we have looked on the works of na- 
 
 65 ture, 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 gaz- 
 ing ; on ourselves, and felt that we were as fleeting as 
 they ; when we have looked on every object to which 
 
 70 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 themselves ; we can look to the 
 throne of God : change and decay have never reached 
 that ; the revolution of ages has never moved it ; the 
 
 75 waves of an eternity have been rushing past it, but it 
 has remained unshaken ; the waves of another eternity 
 are rushing toward it, but it is fixed, and can never be 
 disturbed. Greenwood. 
 
Ex. 104, 105.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 385 
 
 104. Epitaph on Mrs. Mason. 
 
 Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear ; 
 
 Take that best gift, which heav'n so lately gave ; 
 To Bristol's fount I bore, with trembling care, 
 
 Her faded form ; — She bow'd to taste the wave, 
 5 And died. Does youth, does beauty, read the line ? 
 
 Does sympathetic fear their breast alarm ? 
 Speak, dead Maria ! breathe a strain divine : 
 
 Ev'n from the grave thou shalt have pow'r to charm. 
 Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee ; 
 10 Bid them in duty's sphere, as meekly move ; 
 And, if as fair, from vanity as free, 
 
 As firm in friendship, and as fond in love, 
 Tell them, though His an awful thing to die ! 
 
 ('Twas even to thee) yet, the dread path once trod, 
 15 Heav'n lifts its everlasting portals high, 
 
 And bids the " pure in heart behold their God." 
 
 105. Skepticism. 
 
 O ! lives there, heaven ! beneath thy dread expanse : 
 One hopeless, dark idolator of Chance, 
 Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, 
 The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind ; 
 5 Who, mouldering earthward, 'reft of every trust. 
 In joyless union wedded to the dust, 
 Could all his parting energy dismiss, 
 And call this barren world sufficient bliss ?— 
 There live, alas ! of heaven-directed mien, 
 
 10 Of cultured soul, and sapient eye serene, 
 Who hail thee, man ! the pilgrim of a day, 
 Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay ! 
 Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower, 
 Dust, in the wind, or dew upon the flower ! 
 
 15 A friendless slave, a child without a sire, 
 Whose mortal life, and momentary fire, 
 Lights to the grave his chance-created form, 
 As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm ; 
 33 
 
 ; 
 
386 exercises. [Ex. 105. 
 
 And, when the gun's tremendous flash is o'er, 
 
 20 To night and silence sink for evermore ! — 
 
 Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, 
 Lights of the world, and demi-gods of fame 1 
 Is this your triumph — this your proud applause, 
 Children of Truth, and champions of her cause 1 
 
 25 For this hath Science search'd, on weary wing, 
 By shore and sea — each mute and living thing ? 
 Launched with Iberia's pilot from the steep, 
 To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the deep ? 
 Or round the cope her living chariot driven, 
 
 30 And wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven 1 
 Oh ! star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered there, 
 To waft us home the message of despair ? — 
 Then bind the palm, thy sage's brow to suit, 
 Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit ! 
 
 40 Ah me ! the laurelled wreath that murder rears, 
 Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow's tears. 
 Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread, 
 As waves the night-shade round the skeptic head. 
 What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain ? 
 
 45 I smile on death, if heaven-ward hope remain ! 
 But, if the warring winds of Nature's strife 
 Be all the faithless charter of my life, 
 If Chance awaked, inexorable power ! 
 This frail and feverish being of an hour, 
 
 50 Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep,, 
 Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, 
 To know Delight but by her parting smile, 
 And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while ; 
 Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain 
 
 55 This troubled pulse, and visionary brain ! 
 
 Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom ! 
 And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb ! 
 Truth, ever lovely since the world began, 
 The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man, — 
 
 60 How can thy words from balmy slumber start 
 Reposing Virtue, pillowed on the heart ! 
 Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rolled, 
 And that were true which Nature never told, 
 Let Wisdom smile not on her conquered field ; 
 
Ex. 106.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 387 
 
 6-5 No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed ! 
 Oh ! let her read, nor loudly, nor elate, 
 The doom that bars us from a better fate ; 
 But, sad as angels for the gootf man's sin, 
 Weep to record, and blush to give it in ! Campbell. 
 
 100. The Atheist. 
 
 How wonderful the process by which a man can 
 grow to the immense intelligence that can know that 
 there is no God. What ages and what lights are ne- 
 cessary for this stupendous attainment ! This intelli- 
 
 5 gence involves the very attributes of Divinity, while a 
 God is denied. For unless this man is omnipresent, 
 unless he is at this moment in every place in the uni- 
 verse, he cannot know but there may be in some place 
 manifestations of a Deity by which even he would be 
 
 10 overpowered. If he does not know absolutely every 
 agent in the universe, the one that he does not know 
 may be God. If he is not himself the chief agent in 
 the universe, and does not know what is so, that which 
 is so may be God. If he is not in absolute possession 
 
 15 of all the propositions that constitute universal truth, 
 the one which he wants may be, that there is a God. 
 If he cannot with certainty assign the cause of all that 
 he perceives to exist, that cause may be a God. If he 
 does not know every thing that has been done in the 
 
 "20 immeasurable ages that are past, some things may have 
 been done by a God. Thus, unless he knows all things, 
 that is, unless he precludes another Deity by being one 
 himself he cannot know that the Being whose existence 
 he rejects, does not exist. But he must know that he 
 
 25 does not exist, else he deserves equal contempt and 
 compassion for the temerity with which he firmly avows 
 his rejection and acts accordingly. And yet a man of 
 ordinary age and intelligence may present himself to 
 you with an avowal of being thus distinguished from 
 
 30 the crowd ; and if he would describe the manner in 
 which he has attained this eminence, you would feel a 
 melancholy interest in contemplating that process of 
 which the result is so portentous. 
 
388 exercises, [Ex. 107. 
 
 Surely the creature that thus lifts his voice, and de- 
 35 fies all invisible power within the possibilities of infini- 
 ty, challenging whatever unknown being may hear him, 
 and who may, if he will, appropriate that title of Al- 
 mighty which is pronounced in scorn, to evince his ex- 
 istence, by his vengeance ; surely this man was not as 
 40 yesterday a little child, that would tremble and cry at 
 the approach of a diminutive reptile. Foster. 
 
 1 07. Duelling. 
 
 And now let me ask you solemnly ; will you persist 
 in your attachment to these guilty men ? Will you any 
 longer, either deliberately or thoughtlessly, vote for 
 them ? Will you renounce allegiance to your Maker, 
 5 and cast the bible behind your back ? Will you con- 
 fide in men void of the fear of God and destitute of mor- 
 al principle 1 Will you intrust life to murderers— liber- 
 ty to despots ? Are you patriots, and will you consti- 
 tute those legislators who .despise you, and despise equal 
 
 10 laws, and wage war with the eternal principles of jus- 
 tice 1 Are you christians, and by upholding duellists 
 will you deluge the land with blood, and fill it with wid- 
 ows and with orphans ? Will you aid in the prostration 
 of justice — in the escape of criminals — in the extinc- 
 
 15 tion of liberty 1 Will you place in the chair of state — 
 in the senate — on the bench of justice, or in the assem- 
 bly, men who, if able, would murder you for speaking 
 truth ? Shall your elections turn on expert shooting, 
 and your deliberative bodies become an host of armed 
 
 20 men 1 Will you destroy public morality by tolerating, 
 yea, rewarding, the most infamous crimes 1 Will you 
 teach your children that there is no guilt in murder 1 
 — Will you instruct them to think lightly of duelling, 
 and train them up to destroy or be destroyed in the 
 
 25 bloody field 1 Will you bestow your suffrage, when you 
 know that by withholding it you may arrest this deadly 
 evil — when this too is the only wsy in which it can be 
 done, and when the present is perhaps the only period 
 in which resistance can avail — when the remedy is so 
 
 30 easy, so entirely in your power ; and when God, if you 
 
Ex. 107.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 389 
 
 do not punish these guilty men, will most inevitably 
 punish you 1 
 
 If the widows and the orphans, which this wasting 
 evil has created and is yearly multiplying, might all 
 
 35 stand before you, could you witness their tears ; listen 
 to their details of anguish ? Should they point to the 
 murderers of their fathers, their husbands, and their 
 children, and lift up their voice and implore your aid to 
 arrest an evil which had made them desolate — could 
 
 40 you disregard their cry ? Before their eyes could you 
 approach the poll and patronize by your vote the de- 
 stroyers of their peace ? Had you beheld a dying fa- 
 ther, conveyed bleeding and agonizing to his distracted 
 family : had you heard their piercing shrieks, and wit- 
 
 45 nessed their frantic agony — would you reward the sav- 
 age man who had plunged them in distress ? Had the 
 duellist destroyed your neighbour — had your own father 
 been killed by the man who solicits your suffrage — had 
 your son been brought to your door, pale in death, and 
 
 50 weltering in blood, laid low by his hand — would you 
 then think the crime a small one ? Would you honour 
 with your confidence, and elevate to power by your vote, 
 the guilty monster ? And what would you think of 
 your neighbours, if, regardless of your agony, they 
 
 55 should reward him ? And yet, such scenes of unuttera- 
 ble anguish, are multiplied every year. Every year the 
 duellist is cutting down the neighbour of somebody. 
 Every year, and many times in the year, a father is 
 brought dead or dying to his family, or a son laid breath- 
 
 60 less at the feet of his parents. And every year you are 
 patronizing, by your votes, the men who commit these 
 crimes, and looking with cold indifference upon, and 
 even mocking the sorrows of your neighbour. — Beware 
 — I admonish you solemnly to beware, and especially 
 
 65 such of you as have promising sons preparing for active 
 life, lest, having no feeling for the sorrows of another, 
 you be called to weep for your own sorrow ; lest your 
 sons fall by the hand of the very murderer you vote for, 
 or by the hand of some one whom his example has train- 
 
 70 ed to the work of blood. 
 
 With such considerations before you, whv, in the 
 33* 
 
396 exercises. [Ex. 108. 
 
 name of heaven, do you wish to vote for such men 1 
 What have they done for you — what can they do, that 
 better men cannot as happily accomplish ? And will 
 
 75 you incur all this guilt and hazard all these consequen- 
 ces for nothing ? Have you no religion — no conscience 
 — no love to your country ? No attachment to liberty 
 — no humanity — no sympathy — no regard to your own 
 welfare in this life ; and no fear of consequences in the 
 
 80 life to come ? 
 
 Oh, my countrymen, awake ! Awake to crimes which 
 are your disgrace — to miseries which know not a limit 
 — to judgments which will make you desolate. 
 
 Beecher. 
 
 108. Character of the Puritans. 
 
 The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a 
 peculiar character from the daily contemplation of su- 
 perior beings and eternal interests. Not content with 
 acknowledging, in general terms, an overruling Prov- 
 
 5 idence, they habitually ascribed every event to the will 
 of the Great Being, for whose power nothing was too 
 vast, for whose inspection nothing was too minute. To 
 know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them 
 the great end of existence. They rejected with con- 
 
 10 tempt the ceremonious homage which other sects sub- 
 stituted for the pure worship of the soul. Instead of 
 catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through an 
 obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the intolera- 
 ble brightness, and to commune with him face to face. 
 
 15 Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial distinc- 
 tions. The difference between the greatest and mean- 
 est of mankind seemed to vanish, when compared with 
 the boundless interval which separated the whole race 
 from him on whom their own eyes were constantly fix- 
 
 20 ed. They recognized no title to superiority but his fa- 
 vour ; and, confident of that favour, they despised all 
 the accomplishments and all the dignities of the world. 
 If they were unacquainted with the works of philoso- 
 phers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of 
 
 25 God. If their names were not found in the registers of 
 
Ex.108.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 391 
 
 heralds, they felt assured that they were recorded in the 
 Book of Life. 1 f their steps were not accompanied by 
 a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering an- 
 gels had charge over them. Their palaces were houses 
 30 not made with hands ; their diadems crowns of glory 
 which should never fade away ! 
 
 On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, 
 they looked down with contempt : for they esteemed 
 themselves rich in a more precious treasure, and elo- 
 35 quent in a more sublime language, nobles by the right 
 of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of 
 a mightier hand. The very meanest of them was a be- 
 ing to whose fate a mysterious and terrible importance 
 belonged — on whose slightest action the spirits of light 
 40 and darkness looked with anxious interest, who had 
 been destined, before heaven and earth were created, to 
 enjoy a felicity which should continue when heaven and 
 earth should have passed away. Events which short- 
 sighted politicians ascribed to earthly causes, had been 
 45 ordained on his account. For his sake empires had 
 risen, and flourished, and decayed. For his sake the 
 Almighty had proclaimed his will by the pen of the evan- 
 gelist, and the harp of the prophet. He had been res- 
 cued by no common deliverer from the grasp of no com- 
 50 mon foe. He had been ransomed by the sweat of no 
 vulgar agony, by the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It 
 was for him that the sun had been darkened, that the 
 rocks had been rent, that the dead had arisen, that all 
 nature had shuddered at the sufferings of her expiring 
 55 God ! 
 
 Thus the Puritan was made up of two different men, 
 the one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion ; 
 the other proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He pros- 
 trated himself in the dust before his Maker : but he set 
 60 his foot on the neck of his king. In his devotional re- 
 tirement, he prayed with convulsions, and groans, and 
 tears. He was half maddened by glorious or terrible il- 
 lusions. He heard the lyres of angels, or the tempting 
 whispers of fiends. He caught a gleam of the beatifick 
 65 vision, or woke screaming from dreams of everlasting 
 fire. Like Vane, he thought himself intrusted with the 
 
392 exercises. [Ex. 108. 
 
 sceptre of the millennial year. Like Fleetwood, he cri- 
 ed in the bitterness of his soul that God had hid his face 
 from him. But, when he took his seat in the council, 
 
 70 or girt on his sword for war, these tempestuous workings 
 of the soul had left no perceptible trace behind them. 
 People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth 
 visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans 
 and their hymns, might laugh at them. But those had 
 
 75 little reason to laugh who encountered them in the hall 
 of debate, or in the field of battle. 
 
 The Puritans brought to civil and military affairs, 
 a coolness of judgment, and an immutability of purpose 
 which some writers have thought inconsistent with their 
 
 SO religious zeal, but which were in fact the necessary ef- 
 fects of it. The intensity of their feelings on one sub- 
 ject made them tranquil on every other. One overpow- 
 ering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, 
 ambition and fear. Death had lost its terrors, and pleas- 
 
 85 ure its charms. They had their smiles and their tears, 
 their raptures and their sorrows, but not for the things 
 of this world. Enthusiasm had made them stoicks, had 
 cleared their minds from every vulgar passion and 
 prejudice, and raised them above the influence of dan- 
 
 90 ger and of corruption. It sometimes might lead them to 
 pursue unwise ends, but never to choose unwise means. 
 They went through the world like Sir Artegales's iron 
 man Talus with his flail, crushing and trampling down 
 oppressors, mingling with human beings, but having 
 
 95 neither part nor lot in human infirmities ; insensible to 
 fatigue, to pleasure, and to pain ; not to be pierced by 
 any weapon, not to be withstood by any barrier. 
 
 Such we believe to have been the character of the Pu- 
 ritans. We perceive the absurdity of their manners. 
 
 100 We dislike the gloom of their domestick habits. We 
 acknowledge that the tone of their minds was often in- 
 jured by straining after things too high for mortal reach : 
 And we know that, in spite of their hatred of popery, 
 they too often fell into the vices of that bad system, in- 
 
 105 tolerance and extravagant austerity. Yet, when all cir- 
 cumstances are taken into consideration, we do not hes- 
 
Ex. 109.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 393 
 
 itate to pronounce them a brave, a wise, an honest, and 
 an useful body. Edin. Review. 
 
 109. An enlightened Ministry. 
 
 Christianity now needs dispensers, who will make 
 history, nature, and the improvements of society, tribu- 
 tary to its elucidation and support ; who will show its 
 adaptation to man as an ever progressive being ; who 
 5 will be able to meet the objections to its truth, which 
 will naturally be started in an active, stirring, enquiring 
 age ; and, though last not least, who will have enough 
 of mental and moral courage to detect and renounce the 
 errors in the Church, on which such objections are gen- 
 
 10 erally built. In such an age a ministry is wanted, 
 which will furnish discussions of religious topicks, not 
 inferior at least in intelligence to those, which people 
 are accustomed to read and hear on other subjects. 
 Christianity will suffer, if at a time, when vigour and 
 
 15 acuteness of thinking are carried into all other depart- 
 ments, the pulpit should send forth nothing but wild de- 
 clamation, positive assertion, or dult common places, 
 with which even childhood is satiated. Religion must 
 be seen to be the friend and quickener of intellect. It 
 
 20 must be exhibited with clearness of reasoning and varie- 
 ty of illustration ; nor ought it to be deprived of the 
 benefits of a pure and felicitous diction, and of rich and 
 glowing imagery, where these gifts fall to the lot of the 
 teacher. It is not meant that every minister must be 
 
 25 a man of genius; for genius is one of God's rarest in- 
 spirations ; and of all the beamings and breathings of 
 genius, perhaps the rarest is eloquence. I mean only 
 to say, that the age demands of those, who devote them- 
 selves to the administration of Christianity, that they 
 
 30 should feel themselves called upon for the highest culti- 
 vation and fullest development of the intellectual nature. 
 Instead of thinking, that the ministry is a refuge for 
 dulness, and that whoever can escape from the plough 
 is fit for God's spiritual husbandry, we ought to feel that 
 
 35 no profession demands more enlarged thinking and 
 more various acquisitions of truth. 
 
394 exercises. [Ex. 110. 
 
 In proportion as society becomes enlightened, talent 
 acquires influence. In rude ages bodily strength is the 
 most honourable distinction, and in subsequent times 
 
 40 military prowess and skill confer mastery and eminence. 
 But as society advances, mind, thought, becomes the 
 sovereign of the world ; and accordingly, at the present 
 moment, profound and glowing thought, though breath- 
 ing only from the silent page, exerts a kind of omnipo- 
 
 45 tent and omnipresent energy. It crosses oceans and 
 spreads through nations ; and at one and the same mo- 
 ment, the conceptions of a single mind are electrifying 
 and kindling multitudes, through wider regions than 
 the Roman Eagle overshadowed. This agency of mind 
 
 50 on mind, I repeat it, is the true sovereignty of the world, 
 and kings and heroes are becoming impotent by the 
 side of men of deep and fervent thought. In such a 
 state of things, Religion would wage a very unequal 
 war, if divorced from talent and cultivated intellect, if 
 
 55 committed to weak and untaught minds. God plainly 
 intends, that it should be advanced by human agency ; 
 and does he not then intend, to summon to its aid the 
 mightiest and noblest power with which man is gifted ? 
 
 Channing. 
 
 110. Prayer. 
 
 Prayer is an action of likeness to the Holy Ghost, 
 the spirit of gentleness and dove-like simplicity ; an 
 imitation of the holy Jesus, whose spirit is meek up 
 to the greatness of the biggest example, and a con- 
 
 5 formity to God, whose anger is always just, and march- 
 es slowly, and is without transportation, and often hin- 
 dered, and never hasty, and is full of mercy : prayer is 
 the peace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts, the 
 evenness of recollection, the seat of meditation, the rest 
 
 10 of our cares, and the calm of our tempest ; prayer is 
 the issue of a quiet mind, of untroubled thoughts, it is 
 the daughter of charity, and the sister of meekness ; and 
 he that prays to God with an angry, that is with a trou- 
 bled and discomposed spirit, is like him that retires into 
 
 15 a battle to meditate, and sets up his closet in the out 
 quarters of an army, and chooses a frontier garrison to be 
 
Ex. 111.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 395 
 
 wise in. Anger is a perfect alienation of the mind 
 from prayer, and therefore is contrary to that attention, 
 which presents our prayers in a right line to God. For 
 
 "20 so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and 
 soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get 
 to heaven, and climb above the clouds; but the poor 
 bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an 
 eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and incon- 
 
 25 stant, descending more at every breath of the tempest, 
 than it could recover by the libration and frequent 
 weighing of his wings ; till the the little creature was 
 forced to sit down and pant, and stay till the storm was 
 over, and then it made a prosperous flight, and did rise 
 
 30 and sing as if it had learned music and motion from an 
 angel, as he passed sometimes through the air about 
 his ministeries here below : so is the prayer of a good 
 man ; when his affairs have required business, and his 
 business was matter of discipline, and his discipline was 
 
 35 to pass upon a sinning person, or had a design of chari- 
 ty, his duty met with the infirmities of a man, and an- 
 ger was its instrument, and the instrument became 
 stronger than the prime agent, and raised a tempest and 
 overruled the man; and then his prayer was broken, 
 
 40 and his thoughts were troubled, and his words went up 
 towards a cloud, and his thoughts pulled them back 
 again, and made them without intention ; and the good 
 man sighs for his infirmity, but must be content to lose 
 the prayer, and he must, recover it, when his anger 
 
 45 is removed, and his spirit is becalmed, made even as 
 the brow of Jesus, and smooth like the heart of God ; 
 and then it ascends to heaven upon the wings of the 
 holy dove, and dwells with God, till it returns like 
 the useful bee, loaden with a blessing and the dew of 
 
 50 heaven. 
 
 111. Gray's Elegy. 
 
 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, 
 
396 exercises. [Ex. 111. 
 
 2 Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on 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 ; 
 
 3 Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r, 
 
 The moping owl does to the Moon complain 
 Of such, as, wand'ring near her secret bow'r, 
 Molest her ancient solitary reign. 
 
 4 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
 o Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, 
 The place of fame and elegy supply : 
 And many a holy text around she strews, 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 
 6 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
 
 This pleasing anxious being e'er resign 'd, 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind ? 
 
 7 On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
 Ev'n from the tomb, the voice of nature cries, 
 Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
 8 For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead. 
 
 Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; 
 If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, 
 
 9 Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
 
 " Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, 
 Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away, 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn : 
 
 10 There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 
 That wreaths its old fantastic roots so high, 
 His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 
 
Ex.112.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 397 
 
 11 Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, 
 
 ' Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 
 Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, 
 Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 
 
 12 One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, 
 
 Along the heath, and near his fav'nte tree : 
 Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, 
 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; 
 
 13 The next, with dirges due, in sad array, 
 
 Slow thro' the church-yard path we saw him borne ; 
 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, 
 Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 14 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. 
 
 15 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,. 
 
 Heav'n did a recompense as largely send ; 
 He gave to Mis'ry 'all he had, a tear ; 
 
 He gain'd from heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. 
 
 16 No farther 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. Gray. 
 
 112. Obligation to the Heathen. 
 
 Let me never fall into the hands of the man, who, 
 while he refuses to aid the missionary efforts of his 
 brethren, coolly says that he submits the fate of the 
 heathen to God. Do you call this submission ? Put 
 
 5 it to the test ; — does it preserve you equally composed 
 by the bed of your dying child ? While the pressure of 
 private afflictions can torture your soul, call not the ap- 
 athy with which you view nations sinking into hopeless 
 ruin, — call it not submission, nor bring the government 
 
 10 of God to sanction a temper as cruel as it is common, 
 33 
 
398 exercises. [Ex.112. 
 
 Will the government of God convert the heathen with- 
 out the means of grace ? What nation was ever so con- 
 verted 1 It is contrary to the established method of di- 
 vine grace. " How shall they believe in him of whom 
 
 15 they have not heard ? And how shall they hear with- 
 out a preacher !" No, my brethren, missionaries must 
 go among them ; and they must be supported. They 
 cannot support themselves ; they cannot derive support 
 from the heathen ; nor can they expect to be fed by 
 
 20 ravens. Who then shall sustain the expense if not the 
 christian world ? and what portion of the christian 
 world rather than the American churches 1 and what 
 district of these churches rather than that in which we 
 are assembled 1 and what individuals rather than our- 
 
 25 selves ? Heaven has given us the means ; we are living 
 in prosperity on the very lands from which the wretched 
 pagans have been ejected ; from the recesses of whose 
 wilderness a moving cry is heard, When it is well with 
 you, think of poor Indians. This is not ideal ; we have 
 
 30 received such messages written with their tears. 
 
 I have nothing to spare, is the plea of sordid reluc- 
 tance. But a far different sentiment will be formed 
 amidst the scenes of the last day. Men now persuade 
 themselves that they have nothing to spare till they can 
 
 35 support a certain style of luxury, and have provided for 
 the establishment of children. But in the awful hour 
 when you, and I, and all the pagan nations, shall be 
 called from our graves to stand before the bar of Christ, 
 what comparison will these objects bear to the salvation 
 
 40 of a single soul ? Eternal mercy ! let not the blood 
 of heathen millions, in that hour, be found in our skirts ! 
 — Standing, as I now do, in sight of a dissolving uni- 
 verse, beholding the dead arise, the world in flames, 
 the heavens fleeing away, all nations convulsed with 
 
 45 terror, or rapt in the vision of the Lamb, — I pronounce 
 the conversion of a single pagan of more value than all 
 the wealth that ever omnipotence produced. On such 
 an awful subject it becomes me to speak with caution ; 
 But I solemnly aver, that were there but one heathen 
 
 50 in the world, and he in the remotest corner of Asia, if 
 
Ex.113.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 399 
 
 no greater duty confined us at home, it would be worth 
 the pains for all the people in America to embark to- 
 gether to carry the gospel to him. Place your soul in 
 his soul's stead. Or rather consent for a moment to 
 
 55 change condition with the savages on our borders. 
 Were you posting on to the judgment of the great day, 
 in the darkness and pollution of pagan idolatry, and 
 were they living in wealth in this very district of the 
 church, how hard would it seem for your neighbours to 
 
 00 neglect your misery ! When you should open your 
 eyes in the eternal world, and discover the ruin in which 
 they had suffered you to remain, how would you re- 
 proach them that they did not even sell their posses- 
 sions, if no other means were sufficient, to send the gos- 
 
 65 pel to you. My flesh trembles at the prospect ! — But 
 they shall not reproach us. It shall be known in heav- 
 en that we could pity our brethren. We will send 
 them all the relief in our power, and will enjoy the 
 luxury of reflecting what happiness we may entail on 
 
 70 generations yet unborn, if we can only effect the con- 
 version of a single tribe. ifrijjin. 
 
 113. Infatuation of men with regard to the things of time. 
 
 But if no danger is to be apprehended while the thun- 
 der of heaven rolls at a distance, believe me, when it 
 collects over our heads, we may be fatally convinced, 
 that a well-spent life is the only conductor that can a- 
 5 vert the bolt. Let us reflect, that time waits for no man. 
 Sleeping or waking, our days are on the wing. If we look 
 to those that are past, they are but as a point. When 
 I compare the present aspect of this city, with that 
 which it exhibited within the short space of my own 
 
 10 residence, what does the result present, but the most 
 melancholy proof of human instability 1 New charac- 
 ters in every, scene, new events, new principles, new 
 passions, a new creation insensibly arisen from the ash- 
 es of the old ; which side soever I look, the ravage of 
 
 15 death has nearly renovated all. Scarcely do we look 
 around us in life, when our children are matured, and 
 remind us of the grave ; the great feature of all nature. 
 
400 exercises. [Ex. 113. 
 
 is rapidity of growth and declension. Ages are renew- 
 ed, but the figure of the world passeth away. God on- 
 
 f 20 ly remains the same. The torrent that sweeps by, runs 
 at the base of his immutability ; and he sees, with in- 
 dignation, wretched mortals, as they pass along, insult- 
 ing him by the visionary hope of snaring that attribute, 
 which belongs to Him alone. 
 
 25 It is to the incomprehensible oblivion of our mortali- 
 ty, that the world owes all its fascination. Observe for 
 what man toils. Observe what it often costs him to be- 
 come rich and great — dismal vicissitudes of hope and 
 disappointment — often all that can degrade the dignity 
 
 30 of his nature, and offend his God ! Study the matter of 
 the pedestal, and the instability of the statue. — Scarce 
 is it erected — scarce presented to the stare of the multi- 
 tude — when death, starting like a massy fragment from 
 the summit of a mountain, dashes the proud colossus 
 
 35 into dust ! Where, then, is the promised fruit of all 
 his toil ? Where the wretched and deluded being, who 
 fondly promised himself that he had laid up much goods 
 for many years ?— Gone, my brethren, to his account, a 
 naked victim, trembling in the hands of the living God ! 
 
 40 Yes, my brethren, the final catastrophe of all human pas- 
 sions, is rapid as it is awful. Fancy yourselves on that 
 bed from which you never shall arise, and the reflection 
 will exhibit, like a true and faithful mirror, what shadows 
 we are, and what shadows we pursue. Happy they 
 
 45 who meet that great, inevitable transition, full of days ! 
 Unhappy they who meet it but to tremble and despair ! 
 Then it is that man learns wisdom, when too late : 
 then it is that every thing will forsake him, but his vir- 
 tues or his crimes. To him the world is past ; digni- 
 
 50 ties, honours, pleasure, glory ; past like the cloud of the 
 morning ! nor could all that the great globe inherits, af- 
 ford him, at that tremendous hour, as much consolation, 
 as the recollection of having given but one cup of cold 
 water to a child of wretchedness, in the name of Christ 
 
 55 Jesus! Kir wan. 
 
Ex. 114.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 40l 
 
 114. Death of Hamilton. 
 
 A short time since, and he who is the occasion of our 
 sorrows, was the ornament of his country. He stood on 
 an eminence ; and glory covered him. From that em- 
 inence he has fallen — suddenly, for ever, fallen. His 
 5 intercourse with the living world is now ended ; and 
 those who would hereafter find him must seek him in 
 the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which 
 just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim and 
 sightless is the eye, whose radient and enlivening orb 
 
 10 beamed with intelligence ; and there, closed for ever 
 are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so 
 often and so lately hung with transport. 
 
 From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there 
 proceeds, methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen 
 
 15 that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only 
 phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor 
 of victory — how humble appears the majesty of gran- 
 deur. The bubble which seemed to have so much sol- 
 idity has burst : and we again see that all below the sun 
 
 20 is vanity. * 
 
 True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The 
 sad and solemn procession has moved. The badge of 
 mourning has already been decreed, and presently the 
 sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpet- 
 
 25 uate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing 
 traveller his virtues. 
 
 Just tributes of respect ! And to the living useful. 
 But to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble hab- 
 itation, what are they 1 — How vain ! how unavailing ! 
 
 30 Approach, and behold — while I lift from his sepul- 
 chre its covering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye em- 
 ulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and behold 
 him now. How pale ! How silent! No martial bands 
 admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinat- 
 
 35 ed throng weep — and melt — and tremble at his elo- 
 quence ! — Amazing change. A shrowd ! a coffin ! a 
 narrow subterraneous cabin ! This is all that now re- 
 mains of Hamilton ! And is this all that remains of 
 
402 exercises. [Ex.115. 
 
 him ? — During a life so transitory, what lasting monu- 
 
 40 ment then can our fondest hopes erect ? 
 
 My brethren ! we stand on the borders of an awful 
 gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is 
 there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, noth- 
 ing abiding, nothing immortal on which poor, frail, dy- 
 
 45 ing man can fasten ? 
 
 Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you 
 have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. 
 He will tell you, did I say ? He has already told you, 
 from his death bed, and his illumined spirit still whis- 
 
 50 pers from the heavens, with well known eloquence, the 
 solemn admonition. 
 
 "Mortals ! hastening to the tomb, and once the com- 
 panions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my 
 errors — Cultivate the virtues I have recommended — 
 
 od Choose the Savior 1 have chosen — Live disinterestedly 
 — -Live for immortality ; and would you rescue any 
 thing from final dissolution, lay it up in God." Nott. 
 
 115. The Crucifixion. 
 
 When our Redeemer expired on the cross, sympa- 
 thizing nature was convulsed ! The sun was suddenly 
 enveloped in midnight darkness, and confusion reigned ! 
 but I shall pass by these terrific events, in order to lead 
 
 5 your attention to more important objects. The cross 
 erected on Mount Calvary was the standard of victory, 
 to which even thought was to be led captive, and before 
 which imaginations were to be cast down ; that is to 
 say, human wisdom and sceptic reluctance. No voice 
 
 10 sublime was heard sounding from a thunder-bearing 
 cloud, as of old from the heights of Sinai ! No approach 
 was observed of that formidable Majesty, before whom 
 the mountians melt as wax ! Where, where was the 
 warlike preparation of that power which was to subdue 
 
 15 the world 1 See the whole artillery collected on Mount 
 Calvary, in the exhibition of a cross, of an agonizing 
 Sufferer, and a crown of thorns ! 
 
 Religious truth was exiled from the earth, and idola- 
 
Ex.115.] SACRED ELOQUENCE. 403 
 
 try sat brooding over the moral world. The Egyptians, 
 
 •20 the fathers of philosophy, the Grecians, the inventors of 
 the fine arts, the Romans, the conquerors of the uni- 
 verse, were all unfortunately celebrated for the perver- 
 sion of religious worship, for the gross errors they ad- 
 mitted into their belief, and the indignities they offered 
 
 *25 to the true religion. Minerals, vegetables, animals, 
 the elements, became objects of adoration ; even abstract 
 visionary forms, such as fevers and distempers, received 
 the honours of deification ; and to the most infamous 
 vices, and dissolute passions, altars were erected. The 
 
 30 world, which God had made to manifest his power, 
 seemed to have become a temple of idols, where every 
 thing was god but God himself!. 
 
 The mystery of the crucifixion was the remedy the 
 Almighty ordained for this universal idolatry. He knew 
 
 35 the mind of man, and knew that it was not by reason- 
 ing an error must be destroyed, which reasoning had 
 not established. Idolatry prevailed by the suppres- 
 sion of reason, by suffering the senses to predominate, 
 which are apt to clothe every thing with the qualities 
 
 40 with which they are affected. Men gave the Divinity 
 their own figure, and attributed to him their vices and 
 passions. Reasoning had no share in so brutal an er- 
 ror. It was a subversion of reason, a delirium, a phren- 
 sy. Argue with a phrenetic person, you do but the 
 
 45 more provoke him, and render the distemper incurable. 
 Neither will reasoning cure the delirium of idolatry. 
 What has learned antiquity gained by her elaborate dis- 
 courses ? her reasonings so artfully framed ? Did Pla- 
 to, with that eloquence which was styled divine, over- 
 
 50 throw one single altar where monstrous divinities were 
 worshipped ? Experience hath shown that the overthrow 
 of idolatry could not be the work of reason alone. Far 
 from committing to human wisdom the cure of such a 
 malady, God completed its confusion by the mystery of 
 
 55 the cross. Idolatry (if rightly understood) took its rise 
 from that profound self-attachment inherent in our na- 
 ture. Thus it was that the Pagan mythology teemed 
 with deities who were subject to human passions, weak- 
 
404 exercises. [Ex.115. 
 
 nesses, and vices. When the mysterious cross display- 
 00 ed to the world an agonizing Redeemer, incredulity ex- 
 claimed it was foolishness ! But the darkening sun, na- 
 ture convulsed, the dead arising from their graves, said 
 it was wisdom ! Rot met. 
 
 end. 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 42, line 5, after rising inflection, read falling inflection. 
 
 55, — 13, for say, read saio. 
 
 60, — 25, insert and with all thy heart in the line above. 
 
 81, — 29, for aimed, read armed. 
 
 87, — 9, for know, read knew. 
 
 125, — 12, for (00), read ( 00 ). 
 
 205, to — 217, running title, for inflection, read emphasis. 
 
 180, and in one or two other places, the English Bible is exactly copied, so that 
 
 Italic words do not denote emphasis, as elsewhere in the book. 
 The extreme difficulty of punctilious accuracy in the rhetorical notation, has 
 occasioned a few mistakes which need not be specified. 
 
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