ill !iiiiia I liir lilili i lillii 11 i m i ii 6- ^^ . . %/rW^^\>^ 3 0^ '7hr:^^$$i^ - ^"^ A^ MANUAL OF ELOCUTION FOUNDED UPON THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN VOICE. OJlassijiitd Jllustptions. SUGaESTED BY AND ARRANGED TO MEET THE PRACTICAL DIFFICULTIES OF INSTRUCTION. / BY M. S. MITCHELL. ^ PHILADELPHIA: ELDEEDGE & BEOTHEK, 17 AND 19 South Sixth Street. NEW YORK : J. W. SCHERMERHORN & CO. BOSTON : WOODlfAN & HAMMETT. Gl.N'CINNATI : R. W. CARROLL & CO. CHICAGO : SPEAKMAN & PROCTOR. CLEVELAND : INGHAM & BRAGG. 1868, TH+l" Entered according to Act of Congi-ess, in the year 1867, by ELDREDGE & BROTHER, in the Clerk's OfiBce of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. ^ J. PAGAN & SON, STEREOTYPE POUNDERS, PHILADELPHIA. -^ PRINTED BY SHERMAN & CO. PREFACE. Long experience of the need which it is the design of the following pages to supply, must explain the rea- sons for the preparation of this volume. If that design be accomplished, the book will be its own best inter- preter ; if not, a lengthened preface would but make the failure more apparent. The whole theory of elocution, including an analysis of gesture, has been herein dis- cussed, though all merely incidental opinions have been carefully avoided. Where just views have been found expressed by those who have made this a life-study, their language has frequently been quoted, in the hope that due importance may be ascribed to the ideas thus presented. Special acknowledgments are due to Dr. James Eush, to whose profound and accurate analysis of the "Philosophy of the Human Yoice," all writers upon the subject have so long been indebted ; and to Professor Wm. Eussell, in whose able expositions of the theory of Dr. Eush may be found a more minute eluci- dation of the principles of this branch of education, so much neglected and misunderstood. Elocution being less a science than an art, much will ever remain to be effected by the living teacher, though experience has proved the great advantages to be derived from the general system of instruction here proposed. The examples for practice have been classified with the view of separately illustrating each division of the work ; in many instances, it may be best not to attempt (iii) IV PEEFACE. the reading of any long selection, until, by thorough study and diligent practice upon the shorter illustra- tions, each principle is clearly understood. The read- ing of a single poem might serve to develop the whole theory of elocutioD ; the examples under each successive division may therefore be used, not only to secure a clear apprehension of the special point under considera- tion, but also to review the lessons previously explained and illustrated. Great care has been taken to consult the authorized editions of the various writers here represented, that the extracts^ from their works may be relied upon as accurate ; though, in some instances, preference has been given to an early edition, when, in later issues, the alter- ations have not been deemed improvements. Many poems have been introduced which have never before found their way into any book of selections, some few being now for the first time published in this country. The compiler cannot conceal the hope that this glimpse of our general literature may tempt to indi- vidual research among its treasures, so varied and inex- haustible ; — that this text-book for the school-room may become not only teacher, but friend, to those in whose hands it is placed, and while aiding, through sys- tematic development and training of the elocutionary powers of the pupil, to overcome many of the practical difficulties of instruction, may accomplish a higher work in the cultivation and refinement of character. PniLADELrHiA, June 4, 1867. TABLE OF CONTENTS. PA&E INTRODUCTION 13 Movements 18 Breathings 18 ARTICULATION ; 20 YowELS, Sub-vowels, &c 20 Table of Elements 21 Exercises 21 Concrete and Discrete Sounds 24 Radical and Vanishing Movements 24 YowEL Sounds: Monothongs, &c 24 Defects in Articulation 25 PRONUNCIATION ". 26 Orthoepy 26 Phonetic Analysis of Words 26 Syllabication 27 Monosyllables, Dissyllables, &c.. 27 Quantity 27 Immutable, Mutable, AND Indefinite Syllables 27 Accent 28 Primary and Secondary Accent.. 28 EMPHASIS 29 Absolute and Antithetic Emphasis 29 Illustrations. — Absolute Emphasis. Robertson, Ruslcin, Mrs. Child, WIdttier, Kingsley, Carlyle 30 Illustrations. — Antithetic Emphasis. Rohertsnn, Thomas d Kem- pis, S/iakespe.are, Landor, Emerson, Carlyle, Miss Gh'eenwell, Ware, Miss Procter, Giles.. 33 Remarks on Distinct Enunciation 36 SELECTIONS 39 MODULATION 53 Pitch, Tones, &c 53 Scale, Interval, &c '. 53 Natural or Diatonic Scale 53 Radical, Concrete and Discrete Pitch 54 Melody of Speech 54 Intonation 54 Long Quantity 64 Illustrations. — Carlyle, Richter, Giles, Campbell, Percival, Holmes, Miss Greenwell, Mrs. Browning 64 MELODY OF SPEECH, Continued 57 Diatonic Melody 57 Illustrations. — De Quincey, Mrs. Browning, Margaret Fuller Os- soli, Shelley, Goldsmith, Tennyson 57 Semitonic Melody 60 Illustrations. — Shakespeare, Tennyson, Randolph, Coleridge, Mrs. Browning 60 Monotone 62 Illustrations. — Keats, Coleridge, Shakespeare, Poe, Schiller, Be Vere, Mrs. Howell, Tennyson 63 SELECTIONS. — Diatonic Melody 66 Semitonic Melody 71 Monotone 77 (v) VI TABLE OF CON-TENTS. PAGB PITCH, Continued 81 Degrees of Pitch 81 Examples. — Bryant, Mrs. Hemans, Byron, Cranch, Tennyson, Cole- ridge, Wolfe, Shakespeare, Campbell, Byron 81 Illustrations. — High Pitch. Shakespeare, Arnold, Spenser, Ten- nyson 84 Illustrations. — Medium Pitch. Mrs. Browning, Miss Procter, Rob- ertson, Brooke, Tennyson 86 Illustrations. — Low Pitch. Shakespeare, Shelley, Byron, Bryant, Lowell, Miss Greenwell, Burns 88 MODULATION, Continued 92 Qualities of Tone 92 Pure Tone 92 Examples. — Whipple, Eichter, Mrs. Child, Martineau, Emerson 92 Orotunt) Quality. Effusive Orotund. Examples. — Schiller, Coventry Patmore, Pope, Wliittier, Mrs. Brown- ing, Mrs. SoiUhey 95 Expulsive Orotund. Examples. — Webster, PatHck Henry, Sheridan Knowles,Mrs.Browning 97 Explosive Orotund. Examples. — Byron, Shakespeare, Scott, Moore, Halleck 99 Aspiration 101 Examples. — Tennyson,Byron, Shakespeare 101 Guttural Quality 102 Ex.umples. — Shakespeare, MiUon, Croly 103 Falsetto. Examples. — Sliakespeare, Longfellow 104 Tremor 106 Examples. — Tennyson, Mrs. Browning, Keats, Milton, Mrs. Barbauld 106 Characteristics of Tones .- 108 IN Modulation...... 108 SELECTIONS. — Poetical Illustrations of Pure Tone 113 " Prose Illustrations of Effusfte Orotund 116 " Poetical Illustrations of Orotund Qu.ality 122 " Illustrations of the Different Qualities of Tone 133 INFLECTIONS 175 Rising, Falling, Circumflex or Wave 175 Rising Octave 176 Examples. — Sheridan, Bulwer, Taylor, Shakespeare 176 Rising Fifth 177 Examples. — Scott, Patrick Henry, Tennyson, Owen Meredith 177 Rising Third 179 Examples. — Coleridge, Leigh Hunt, Spenser 179 Downward Octave 181 Examples. — Knowles. Shakespeare, Ci-oly 181 Downward Fifth 182 Examples. — Shakespeare, Addison, Tennyson 182 Downward Third 183 Examples. — Milton, Kingsley, Emeison, Doddridge, Browning, Ten- nyson, Longfellow 183 Interval of the Second 186 Examples. — i?ee(7, Ruskin, Hawthoi-ne, Emerson, Robertson, Mill.... 187 The Wave : '. 1S8 Examples. — i^V-an/uZm, Taylor, Knowles, Shelley, Milton 189 SELECTIONS. — The Wave. — Humorous Illustrations 191 INFLECTIONS, Continued 206 Rules for Inflections 206 Examples. — Landor, Bacon, Shakespeare, Milton, Robei-tson, Curtis, Rush, Southey 206 Illustrations. — Affirmative Sentences. Robertson, Shakespeare, Clay, Bailey, L'Aime Martin, Emerson, Whipple, Von Humboldt 208 Illustrations. — Negative Sentences. Robertson, Emerson, Thomas d Kempis, Whipple, Locke, Owen 3Ieredith 209 Illustrations. — Interrogative Sentences beginning with a Pronoun or Adverb. Bartol, Sir Wm. Jones, H. Bonar..... 211 TABLE OF CONTENTS. Vll Illustrations. — Interrogative Sentences beginning with a Verb. Whitticr, Carlyle.. 212 iLLUSTfiATiONS. — Suspension of Sense. Emerson, Reed, Be Quincey 212 Illustrations. — Parenthetical Phrases. Shakespeare, Tennyson, Webster 213 Illustrations. — Contrasted Sentences. Shakespeare, Tennyson, Emerson, Kin g si ey, Longfellow 213 Illustrations. — Concessions. De Quincey, Mrs. Broioning 214 Illustrations. — Exclamatory Sentences. Dante, Browning, Miss Greenwell, Campbell, Carlyle 215 ILLUSTR.A.TIONS. — Exclamations in the Form of Interrogative Sen- tences beginning with a Pronoun or Adverb. Browning, De Quinceij 216 Illustrations. — Exclamations in the Form of Interrogative Sen- tences beginning with a Yerb. Alisx Greenwell, Emerson 216 Illustrations. — Declarations in the Form of Negative Sentences. Robertson, Giles, Emerson, Tennyson, Miss Muloch 217 SERIES - 218 Simple and Compound Series, Series of Series 218 Commencing and Concluding Series 219 Examples. — Sliakpspeare, Martineau, Tennyson 219 Illustrations. — Commencing Series. Wirt, Hillard, Shakespeare, Goldsmith 220 Illustrations. — Concluding Series. Shakespeare, Tenmyson, Mont- gomery, Ruskin 220 Illustrations. — Series of Series. Hooker, Taylor, Whipple 221 CADENCE 222 Partial and Distinct Cadence 222 Examples. — Scott, Shakespeare, Massey, Taylor 223 Errors in Cadence 223 Illustrations. — Partial and Distinct Cadence. Ruskin, Kingsley, Carlyle, Stei'ling, WldHier, Faber, H. Coleridge, Wordsworth, Bailey, Miss Greenwell, Mrs. Browning, Milnes, Miss Procter, Miss Waring, Browning, Owen 31eredith 225 FORCE 2-30 Exercises — Degrees of Force 231 Illustrations. — Loud Force. Shakespeare, Gray, Patrick Henry, Croly 233 Illustrations. — Moderate Force. Wordswm-th, Tennyson, Thacke- ray, Shalcspeare, Stoddard, Robertson, Lowell 234 Illustrations. — Soft Force. Shalespeare, Shelley, Byron, Southey, Milton, F. Tennyson, Prentice, Mrs. Browning, Aytoun, Kings- ley, Keats, Tennyson, Spenser 237 FORCE, Continued 242 Varie'Ies of Stress 242 E.'i.DiCAL Stress 242 Examples. — Shakespeare, Ruskin, Webster, Lord Brougham., Milton 243 Median Stress ; 244 ExAMPLKS. — Miss Greenwell, Mrs. Browning, Miss Ingeloio 245 Vanishing Stress 246 Examples. — Sliakespeare, Webster, Otis 247 Compound Stress 247 Ex.amples. — Shakespeare, Whittier, Knowles 248 Thorough Stress 248 Examples. — Pitt, Shakespeare, Milton 248 SELECTIONS. — Median Stress 251 Varieties of Stress 263 PAUSES 295 Grammatical and Rhetorical Pauses 295 Rules for Pauses 295 Examples. — Francis de Sales, Keats, Lowell, Mrs. Browning, Bailey, Emerson, Hood, Shakespeare, Mill 295 Length of Pauses, &c 297 Illustbations. — Very Short Pauses. Scott, Browning, Byron 298 viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAGB Illustrations. — Short Pauses. HazJitt, Drake, Milton 299 Illustrations. — Moderate Pauses. Winthrop, Brnnke, Mrs. Brown- ing, Stoddard. Wwdsworth, Smith, Sterling, Boker, U. N. Cole- ridge '. 300 Illustrations. — Long Pauses. Shelley, Broioning, Mrs. Browning.. 304 Illustrations. — Very Long Pauses. Longfellow, Shakespeare, Ad- dison 307 Time or Movement 310 Varieties of Time 310 SELECTIONS. — Vert Quick Movement 312 Quick Movement 316 LrvET.T Movement 326 Moderate Movement 332 Slow Movement 335 Vert Slow Movement 340 ""TIADING OF POETRY 353 Definitions. Wordsworth, Wilson, Milton, Ruskin, Leigh Hunt, Giles 353 Versification, &c : 353 Poetical Feet, Scanning, &c 353 Examples. — Wliittier, Coleridge, Tennyson, Wordsworth, Milton, Browning .353 Metre 356 Examples. — Hood, Mrs. Southey, Longfellow. Mrs. Browning, Stod- dard. P'ipe, WIntUer, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Miss Procter, Holmes 356 Poetical or Harmonic Pauses 3-57 Final, C.^sur\t., and DEun-C.^suRAL Pauses 357 Examples. — Damiani, Gh-ay 358 It.lustrations. — Dimeter. 3fr.^. Smithey, Longfellow, Whittier 358 Illustrations. — Trimeter. Miss Greenwell, Mrs. Browning, Miss 3Moch 359 Illustr\tions. — Tetrameter. Milton, Longfellow, J/rs. Browning, Coleridge, Tennyson , 361 Illustrations. —Pentameter. Miss Greenwell, Campbell, Thomson, Lnngfellmo 363 Illustrations. — Hexameter. Longfellow, Tegn&i', Milton 364 Illustrations. — Heptameter. Tennyson, Smith 365 Illustrations. — Octameter. Mrs. Charles 366 Faults in the Reading of Poetrt 366 SELECTIONS 367 ACTION 381 Attitude 381 Analtsis of the Principles of Gesture 381 Position of Various Members of the Bodt 382 Principal Lines of Gestxtre, &c 383 SELECTIONS. — Oratorical 386 CONTENTS. SELECTIONS. PAGE A Psalm of Life Henry W. Lonyfelloio. 144 Adam to Eve Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 378 Address at Gettysburg Abraham Lincoln. 116 Annabel Lee Edgar Allan Poe. 368 Artevelde's Farewell Henry Taylor. 78 Barbara Erietchie John G. Whittier. 287 Beauty • Wm. Ellery Ghanning. 44 Bonny Kilmeny James Hogg. 327 Bugle Song Alfred Tennyson. 138 Character Ralph Waldo Emerson. 40 Charge of the Light Brigade Alfred Tennyson. 273 Chaucer 31rs. Browning. 66 Contentment Oliver Wendell Holmes. 193 Cowper's Grave Mrs. Browning, 129 Cranmer's Prophecy Wm. ShaJcesjjeare. 113 Darkness Lord Byron. 79 Death of Little Nell Charles Dickens. 71 Dies Irae Thomas de Celano. 375 Elegy written in a Country Churchyard Thomas Gray. 342 Essential Difference between Man and 'Wom.dJX..Fred. W. Robertson. 41 Evelyn Hope Robert Broioning. 367 Excelsior H. W. Longfellotv. 271 Extract Frederic W. Robertson. 121 Extract Charles Sumner. 119 Extract from "The Second Inaugural" Abraham Lincoln. 117 Extract from "Our National Life" Edwin P. Whii^ple. 39 Extract from "King's Treasuries" John Rnshin. 42 Extract from " Queen's Gardens" " 49 (ix) X CONTENTS. PAGE . Extract from "Alton Locke" Charles Kingsley. 119 Extract from "The Potiphar Papers" Geo. Wm. Curtis. 130 Extract from "The Princess" Tennyson. 167 Extract from "The Two Voices" " 336 Extract from "Dejection: An Ode" Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 334 Extract from "Abt Vogler" Robert Broioning. 339 Extract from "De Profundis " Mrs. Browning. 376 Extract from "A Rhapsody of Life's Progress" " 129 Extract from " The Rhyme of the Duchess May " " 168 Extract from "The Celestial Country" Bernard of Cluni. 170 Extract from "The Reconciler" Dora Greemoell. 260 Faith Alfred Tennyson. 338 Godiva " 165 Horatius Thomas Babington Macatday. 263 Hymn C. S. M. 352 Hymn of Trust 0. W.Holmes. 339 Individuality R. W.Emerson. 69 Invocation to Light John Hilton. 77 Invocation to the New Year Alfred Tennyson. 145 Irving James Russell Loicell. 326 LausDeo! John G. Whittier. 293 Life Tapestry Dora Greemoell. 335 Lochiel's Warning ,.... Thomas Campbell. 274 Love and Death Tennyson. 335 Love, Hope, and Patience in Education S. T. Coleridge. 113 Loved Once Mrs.. Broioning. 372 Miss Kilmansegg's Education Thomas Hood. 195 Mother and Poet Mrs. Broioning. 369 Ode: Intimations of Immortality Wm. Wordsworth. 253 Ode to the Passions Wm. Collins. 163 Palm Sunday John Keble. 332 "Poor Jo" Charles Dickens. 146 Prospice Robert Browning. 377 Purpose of the Bunker Hill Monument Daniel Webster. 394 Queen Mab Sha7ces2)eare. 312 Reminiscences of Arnold and Wordsworth F. W. Robertson. 41 CONTENTS. XI PAGE Rienzi to the Eomans Ifm-y Russell Mitford. 392 Eolla to the Peruvians Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 393 Self-Dependence Miss Ifuloch {3Irs. Graik). 48 Scene from " Macbeth".., Shakespeare. 148 Scene from "Hamlet" " 376 Scene from "Julius Caesar" " 386 Sheridan's Ride Thomas Buchanan Read. 285 Sonnet Frances Anne Kemhle. 333 Sonnet on his Blindness Milton. 335 Stanzas from "In Memoriam " Tennyson. 374 Stanzas, " Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? " Wm. Knox. 350 Strive, Wait, and Pray Adelaide Anne Procter. 340 Studies Lord Francis Bacon. 40 Tears 3Irs. Browning. 336 Thanatopsis. Wm. Cullen Bryant. 251 The American Flag Josejjh Rodman Brake. 280 The Art of Book-keeping Thomas Hood. 192 The Battle of Ivry T. B. Macaulay. 288 The Bells Thos. Hood. 160 The Bridge of Sighs " 72 The Cataract of Lodore Robert Southey. 316 The Closing Scene T. B. Read. 340 The Cloud Percy Bysslie Shelley. 330 The Cry of the Children Mrs. Broionincj. 122 The Cry of the Human " 347 The Diverting History of John Gilpin Wm. Cowper. 319 The Dream of Eugene Aram Thos. Hood. 138 The Dying Christian Alex. Pope. 128 The Great Bell Roland Theodore Tilton. 290 The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire ,..Jean Ingelow. 151 The Mantle of St. John de Matha J. G. Whittier. 282 The March to Moscow Southey. 313 The May Queen Tennyson. 155 The Nation's Dead 173 The Old Clock on the Stairs Longfellow. 136 The Proud Miss MacBride John G. Saxe. 198 Xll CONTENTS. PAGE The Raven Foe. 268 The Reform Bill Sydney Smith. 191 The Shepherd of the People Rev. Phillips Brooha. 118 The Soldier from Bingen Mrs. Norton. 172 The Song of the Shirt Hood. 126 The Vision of Immortality Bryant. 253 The Waiting Whittier. 132 This World is Full of Beauty Gerald Massey. 115 Three Descriptions linskin, Robertson, C.Bronte. 67 Thy Will be Done Whittier. 380 To a Skylark Shelley. 133 Union and Liberty Holmes. 395 Wolsey's Address to Cromwell Shakesjieare. 75 Wolsey's Soliloquy after his Downfall " 76 Woman's Education Riiskin. 69 Work Jlrs. Browning. 333 A MANUAL OE ELOCUTION. INTRODUCTION. " So they read in the bnok in the Una of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them to understand the reading." — Nehemiah viii. 8. Elocution (derived from the Latin verb e-loquor, to speak out, and ion, the act of, — the literal meaning being, the act of speaking out) may be defined — vocal delivery. "Elocution is the ai't or act of so delivering our own thoughts and feelings, or the thoughts and feelings of others, as not only to convey to those around us, with precision, force, and harmony, the full import and meaning of the words and sentences in which these thoughts are clothed, but also to excite and impress upon the mind the feelings, imaginations, and passions by which these thoughts are dictated, or by which they should naturally be ac- companied. Elocution, therefore, in its more ample and liberal signification, is not confined to the mere exercise of the organs of speech. It embraces the whole theory and practice of the exterior demonstration of the inward workings of the mind. "Eloquence maybe considered the soul or animated principle of discourse. Elocution is the embodying form or representative power, depending upon exterior accomplishments and on the cul- tivation of the organs. Oratory is the complicated and vital exist- ence resulting from the perfect harniony and combination of elo- quence and elocution." — Bronaon. "If any one would sing, he attends a master, and is drilled in the very elementary principles; and only after the most laborious process, dares to exercise his voice in public If he were learning to play on the flute for public exhibition, what hours and days would he spend, in giving facility to his fingers and attaining the power of the sweetest and most expressive execution. If he 2 (13) 14 ELOCUTION. were devoting himself to the organ, what months and years would he labor, that he might know its compass, and be master of its keys, and be able to draw out, at will, all its various combinations of harmonious sound, and its full richness and delicacy of expression. "And yet he will fancy that the grandest, the most various and most expressive of all instruments which the Infinite Creator has fashioned by the union of an intellectual soul with the powers of speech, may be played upon without study or practice ; he comes to it a mere uninstructed tyro, and thinks to manage all its stops, and command the whole compass of its varied and comprehensive power. He finds himself a bungler in the attempt, is mortified at his failure, and settles it in his mind for ever that the attempt is vain." — Ware. "The art of reading well is an accomplishment that all desire to possess, many think they have already, and that a few set about to acquire. These, believing their power is altogether in their genius, are, after a few lessons from an elocutionist, disappointed at not becoming themselves at once masters of the art; and with the restless vanity of their belief, abandon the study for some new subject of trial and failure. Such cases of infirmity result in part from the wavering character of the human tribe ; but they chiefly arise from defects in the usual course of instruction. Go to some (may we say all?) of our colleges and universities, and observe how the art of speaking is not taught there. See a boy of but fifteen years, with no want of youthful diffidence, and not without a craving desire to learn, sent upon a stage, pale and choking with apprehen- sion ; being forced into an attempt to do that, wdthout instruction, which he came purposely to learn ; and furnishing amusement to his class-mates, by a pardonable awkwardness, that should be punished, in the person of his pretending but neglectful preceptor, with little less than scourging. Then visit a conservatorio of music ; observe there the elementary outset, the orderly task, the masterly discipline, the unwearied superintendence, and the incessant toil to reach the utmost accomplishment in the Singing- Voice ; and afterwards do not be surprised that the pulpit, the senate, the bar, and the chair of medical professorship, are filled with such abomi- nable drawlers, mouthers, mumblers, clutterers, squeakers, chanters, and mongers in monotony ; nor that the Schools of Singing are constantly sending abroad those great instances of vocal wonder who triumph along the crowded resorts of the world ; who contrib- ute to the halls of fashion and wealth their most refined source of gratification ; who sometimes quell the pride of rank, by a INTEOPUCTION. 15 momentary sensation of envy ; and who draw forth the admiration and receive the crowning applause of the prince and sage." — Rush. " The high accomplishments in Elocution are supposed to be universally the unacquired gifts of genius, and to consist of powers and 'graces beyond the reach of art.' So seem the plainest services of arithmetic to a savage ; and so, to the slave, seem all the ways of music which modern art has so accurately penned, as to time, and tune, and momentary grace. Ignorance knows not what has been done ; indolence thinks, nothing can be done ; and both uniting, borrow from the abused eloquence of poetry an aphorism to justify supineness of inquiry." — Ibid. "Orthophony is, to elocution, what solfeggi and other rudimental exercises are to music : a course of elementary discipline for the systematic cultivation of the voice. We may, it is true, read well, just as we may sing well, ' by ear,' or the teaching of nature merely. But cultivation gives us, in both these uses of the voice, the immense advantages of knowledge, science, and skill. Furnished with these aids, and directed by discerning judgment and good taste, the cultivated reader or speaker has all the advantages of the culti- vated singer, as regards the true and effective use of his organs. " The preparatory training and discipline of the voice, for the purpose of reading, recitation, and declamation, are of incalculable value, whether as regards the organic results connected with the easy, vigorous, and salutary exertion of the voice, or the healthy expansion of the chest, and the inspiring glow of vivid emotion, which is indispensable to effective expression. Dr. Rush's exact and scientific analysis of elocution, in its connection with the action of the organs of voice, enables the teacher to carry elementary cultivation to an extent previously unattainable, and, even yet, too little known by those who have not paid special attention to the subject. The actual benefits, however, arising- from the practical applications of Dr. Rush's system, are equally felt in the exactness of intelligence which it imparts, regarding all the expressive uses of the voice, and the force, freedom, and brilliancy of effect, which it gives to the action of the vocal organs, whether in the utterance of expressive emotion, or of distinctive meaning addressed to the understanding, by the process of unimpassioned articulation." — Russell. "The customary routine of academic declamation consists in per- mitting or compelling a student to ' speak,' and in pointing out his faults, after they have been committed. But it offers no genial in- 16 ELOCUTION ducement to the exercise, and provides no preventive training by which faults might he avoided. Eloquence, in his habits of voice and action, a student may bring with him to our literary institu- tions ; "but he will find little opportunity, there, of acquiring or of perfecting such accomplishments, till a correct and graceful elocu- tion is duly recognized as a part of liberal education." — Ibid. "If there were no other benefits resulting from the art of reading well than the necessity it lays upon us of precisely acquiring the meaning of what we read, and the habit thence acquired of doing this with facility, both when reading silently and aloud, they would constitute a sufficient compensation for all the labor we can bestow- on the subject. But the pleasure derived to ourselves and others from a clear communication of ideas and feelings, and the strong and durable impressions made thereby on the minds of the reader and audience, are considerations which give additional importance tQ this delightful and useful art. The perfect attainment of it doubt- less requires great attention and practice, joined to extraordinary natural powers ; but as there are many degrees of excellence in the art, the student whose aims fall short of perfection will find himself amply rewarded for every exertion he may think proper to make. "To give rules for the management of the voice in reading, by which all the necessary pauses, emphases, tones, &c., may be dis- covered and put into practice, is not possible. After all the direc- tions which can be offered on these points, much will remain to be taught by the living instructor : much will be attainable by no other means than the force of example influencing the imitative powers of the learner. Some rules and principles on these heads will, how- ever, be found useful, to prevent erroneous and vicious modes of utterance, and assist in acquiring a just and accurate mode of de- livery." — Murray. "The faultless reader should possess for various occasions all the qualities of the voice. The organs of articulation should be sub- jected to such a kind and degree of exercise as will best develop their powers, and enable them to act with force, rapidity, precision, and effect. Well-directed and vigorous exercises on inflection, and the various forms of stress, will extend the compass of the voice, and render it smooth, powerful, and melodious. "Deep notes, extended quantity, and monotone should be under the command of the reader or speaker, for the expression of over- whelming sentiments ; his tremor should be under his control for the occasions of grief and exultation ; his judgment and observation INTRODUCTION. 17 must decide where emphasis is to be placed ; his perception and good taste must determine what inflection, form of stress, and move- ment of the voice will best express the thought ; and these should at all times be obedient to his will, when occasion calls for their use." — Tower. " By the term Vocal Gymnastics, may be understood the principles of the human voice as employed in speech and song, as well as the training of the organs by which this voice is produced. The prin- ciples are the science of the voice, — the training, the exercise of the organs, necessary to develop their powers, and enable them to act with rapidity, precision, and effect. "Vocal gymnastics give the pupil complete command of the mus- cles of articulation, extend the compass of the voice, and render it smooth, powerful, and melodious. They not only call forth all the energies of the vocal organs, correct stammering, lisping, &c., but they invigorate the lungs, and consequently fortify them against the invasion of disease." — Comstock. "The methods of practical training, founded on the theory and suggestions of Dr. Rush, are attended by a permanent salutary in- fluence of the highest value. They produce a free and powerful exertion of the organs of respiration, a buoyancy of animal life, an exhilaration of spirit^, and an energetic activity of the whole cor- poreal frame, — all highly conducive to the well-being of the juve- nile pupil, not less than to his attainment of a spirited, efi"ective, and graceful elocution. The correspondent benefits conferred on adults, by a vigorous course of vocal gymnastics, are of perhaps still higher moment, for the immediate purposes of life and useful- ness. The sedentary habits of students and professional men render them -liable npt only to organic disability of utterance, and to injury of the lungs, but to numerous faults of habit in their modes of exert- ing the organs of speech, — faults which impair or counteract the intended effect of all their efforts in the form of public reading or speaking. The daily practice of vocal exercises is the only effec- tual means of invigorating the organic system, or correcting faults of habit in utterance, and the surest means, at the same time, of fortifying the inward frame against the exhausting effects of pro- fessional exertion."— J?MsseZZ. The following movements, breathings, and exercises of the voice suitable for the school-roonl, by expanding the chest, quickening the circulation, and imparting energy and pliancg to the respiratory and vocal organs, are of great service in developing the student's powers of elocution. 2* B ♦ 18 ELOCUTION. MOVEMENTS. First : — Remembering the proper standing position, {head erect, shoulders thrown back and down, chest expanded, and feet at an angle of about seventy-five degrees, — the weight of the body resting on the left foot, the right foot a little in advance of the left,) place the hands upon the hips, and move the elbow's forcibly backward and forward. Second: — After letting the hands fall at the side, move them briskly up and down. Third: — Let the arms be placed in a vertical position; then drawn down, and projected upward with force. Fourth: — Extend the arms horizontally forward; then move them back and forth quickly and with force. Fifth : — Place the arms horizontally forward, with the palms of the hands together ; then throw them apart forcibly, bringing the back of the hands as nearly as possible behind the back. There may be also a variety of exercises in gestures, descriptive or passionate, for the purpose of acquiring freedom and grace in movement. These must be suggested by the ingenuity and good taste of the teacher. {See imcje 2,^1.) BREATHINGS. First: — Full breathing. — Place the arms and hands as required in the first movement ; slowly draw in the breath until the chest is fully expanded; emit it with the utmost slowness. [Repeat.) Second: — Audible Effusive breathing. — Draw in the breath as in full breathing, and expire it audibly in a prolonged sound of the letter h. In this style of respiration, the breath merely effuses itself into the surrounding air. Third: — Expulsive or Forcible breathing. — Draw in a very full breath, as before, and send it forth with a lively expulsive force, in the sound of h, but little prolonged — as in a moderate, whispered cough. The breath is thus projected into the air. Fourth: — Explosive or Abrupt breathing. — Fill the lungs, and then emit the breath suddenly and forcibly, in the manner of an abrupt and whispered cough. Thus the breath is thrown out with abrupt violence. Fifth: — Sighing. — Suddenly fill the lungs with a full breath, and emit it as quickly as possible. Sixth: — Gasping. — With a convulsive effort, inflate the lungs; then send forth the breath more gently. Seventh: — Panting. — Breathe quickly and violently, making the emission of the breath loud and forcible. P INTKODUCTION. 19 For exercise of the voice, especially in articulation, the table of elementary sounds and the preliminary exercises should be used daily and with most assiduous practice. The table should be used : First, — in a distinct and moderate utterance of all the sounds. Second, — in an explosive and forcible manner of making each sound. Third, — in the application of all the elements of elocution while producing the several sounds ; as, Emphasis, Inflection, Pitch, Force, Tone (especially the Orotund), Movement, &c. (See page 21.) 20 ELOCUTIOJ^". ARTICULATION. Articulation is the act of forming with the organs of speech, the elements of vocal language. "Without good articulation, it is impossible to be a coj-reet reader or speaker. Those who have been accustomed to pronounce their words in a careless or slovenly manner, will find it difficult, even with their best efforts, to utter them distinctly. The organs of articulation, for the want of proper exercise, become, as it were, paralyzed. The pupil, therefore, at the very commencement of his studies, should be conducted through a series of exercises, calculated to strengthen the muscles of articulation." — Corn- stock. " In just articulation, the words are not to be hurried over, nor precipi- tated syllable upon syllable; nor, as it were, melted together in a mass of confusion : they should not be trailed, nor drawledj nor permitted to slip out carelessly, so as to drop unfinished. They should be delivered from the lips as beautiful coins newly issued from the mint, deeply and accu- rately impressed, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, in due suc- cession, and of due weight." — Austin. A vowel or tonic is a sound which has full and distinct vocalitj, being uninterrupted in its passage through the vocal organs. A sub-vowel or sub-tonic is a sound which has vocality, though not so perfect as that of the vowel, being partially interrupted in its passage through the voca;l organs. An aspirate or atonic is a mere current of whispering breath. Cognates are letters whose elements are produced by the same organs, in a similar manner ; thus, p is a cognate of h, t of d, &c. English philologists have, according to their real or affected nicety of ear, differed on the subject of the number of elements of their language. The differences refer to the character of the sounds, or to the time or manner of pronouncing them. The arrangement by Dr. Comstock is deemed the best adapted for practical purposes of illustration and comparison. The alphabet thus consists of thirty-eight elements; these being divided into vowels, sub-vowels, and aspirates, — or, into tonics, sub-tonics, and atonies. ARTICULATION. 21 SIMPLE ELEMENTS. Vowels or Tonics. The sound of Sub-vowels or Sub- Tonics. The sound of Aspirates or Atonies. The sound of . i as in ale b as in bow p as in pit k ." arm d " day t * tin k - all an g " gay yile k ' f ' kite fame 5 " eve tb " then th ' ' thin k '' end z " zone s " sin 1 " ile z " azure sh ' shade 6 " in old 1 " r " light roll h ' wh " hush what 6 " 6 " lose on (r '' m " car) mind ii - tube n " no 4 " up full ng " w " song woe ou " out y " yoke COMPOUND ELEMENTS. The sound of oi as in oil I The sound of j as in job IThe sound of tchas in etch ai " air | gz " tugs [ ks " oaks. Pronounce each word in the three columns clearly and distinctly. Make a full inspiration, and dwell for two or three seconds on the initial element ; utter the remainder of the word with a sudden and forcible expulsion of the breath. (In the second and third columns — omitting the words song and hut — ■ this exercise will serve to designate the separate sound of each sub-vowel and aspirate.) Utter each element with the falling slide of the voice, — the vowels with explosive force. Continue at pleasure any of the following exercises. bd, ba, ba, ba; b6, b^ ; bl, bi; \)d; &c. Continue the exercise, pre- fixing to every vowel, each sub-vowel and aspirate in succession. ab, ab, ab, ab; eb, eb; ib, ib; ob, &g., &o. Continue the exercise, affixing to every vowel, each sub-vowel and aspirate in succession. ba-pa da-ta va-fa thn-thn ja-tcha gsa-ksa ba-pa da-ta va-fa thu-tha, ja-tcha gsa-ksa ba-pa da-ta va-fa tha-thsi ja-tcha gsa-ksa ba-pa da-ta va-fa tha-thsi ja-tcha gsa-ksa be-be de-te ve-fe the-the je-tche gse-kse be-be de-te ve-fe tJie-the je-tche gse-kse bu-pu du-tu vu-fu ^7m-thu ju-tchu gsu-ksu bou-pou dou-tou vou-fou <^ou-thou jou-tchou gsou-ksou boi-poi doi-toi voi-foi «7ioi-thoi joi-tchoi gsoi-ksoi bai-pai dai-tai vai-fai f/)ai-thai jai-tchai gsni-ks;ti 22 ELOCUTION". This exercise may be varied by changing the accent, or by increasing the number of syllables ; — thus : ba^-pa, ba-pa^; ba^-pa-pa, ba-pa^-pa, ba-pa-pa^; ba-pa' — pa-ba-', &c. wa-va-wa-va wa-va-wa-va wa-va-wa-va wa-va-wa-va we-ve-we-ve we-ve-we-ve wu-vu-wa-vu wou-vou-wou-vou woi-voi-woi-voi wai-vai-wai-vai va-wa-wa-va va-wa-wa-va va-wa-wa-va va-wa-wa-va ve-we-we-ve ve-we-we-ve vu-wu-wu-vu vou-wou-wou-vou voi-woi-woi-voi vai-wai-wai-vai wa-wha-wha wa-wha-wha wa-wha-wha wa-wha-wha we-whe-whe we-whe-whe wu-whu-whu wou-whou-whou woi-whoi-whoi wai-whai-whai wha-wa-wa wha-wa-wa wha-wa-wa wha-wa-wa whe-we-we whe-we-we whu-wu-wu whou-wou-wou whoi-woi-woi whai-wai-wai da-ga-ta-ka da-ga-ta-ka da-ga-ta-ka da-ga-ta-ka de-ge-te-ke de-o:e-te-ke du-gu-tu-ku dou-gou-tou-kou doi-goi-toi-koi dai-oai-tai-kai thsi-zsb-tha-aa, r/heU. "Our thoughts are boundless, though our frames are frail. Our souls immortal, though our limbs decay ; Though darkened in this poor life by a veil Of suffering, dying matter, we shall play In truth's eternal sunbeams ; on the way To heaven's high capitol our cars shall roll; The temple of the Power whom all obey, This is the mark we tend to, for the soul Can take no lower flight, and seek no meaner goal." Prometheus. — Percival. " Build thee more stately mansions, my soul, As the swift seasons roll ! Leave thy low-vaulted past ! Let each new temple, nobler than the last. Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast. Till thou at length art free, Leaving thy outgrown shell by life's unresting sea I " The Chambered Nautilus. — Holmes. *' All grows sweet in Thee, Since Thou didst gather us in One, and bring This fading flower of our humanity To perfect blossoming. All comes to bloom ! this wild Green outward world of ours, that still must wear The furrow on its brow, by print of care And toil struck deep ; this world by Sin made sad, — Hath felt Thy foot upon its sod, and smiled, — The desert place is glad ! " The Reconciler. = — Miss Greenwell. MELODY OF SPEECH. 57 "Live and love, - Doing both nobly, because lowlily ; Live and work, strongly — because patiently! And for the deed of death, trust it to God, That it be well done, unrepented of. And not to loss. And thence with constant prayers Fasten your souls so high, that constantly The smile of your heroic cheer may float Above all floods of earthly agonies. Purification being the joy of pain ! " The Drama op Exile. — Mrs. Browning. "We cannot say the morning sun fulfils Ingloriously its course ; nor, that the clear , Strong stars, without significance, insphere Our habitation. We meantime, our ills Heap up against this good ; and lift a cry Against this work-day world, this ill-spread feast, As if ourselves were better certainly That what we come to. Maker and High-Priest, I ask Thee not my joys to multiply, — Only to make me worthier of the least." Adequacy. — Ibid. MELODY OF SPEECH, Continued. Diatonic Melody is the progression of pitch through the interval of a whole tone. Semitonicor Chromatic Melody is the progression of pitch through the interval of a semitone. Words may be considered under three aspects : as representa- tives of simple thought ; as indicative of an enforcing of thought ; and as expressive of passion. The progress of the voice in speak- ing is called Melody. For plain narrative or simple thought we use the Diatonic Melody ; in giving utterance to complaint, pity, tender supplication, &c., the Chromatic Melody. Illustrations of the Use of Diatonic Melody. "In that great social organ, which collectively, we call literature, there may be distinguished two separate offices that may blend and often do so, but capable severally of a severe insulation, and natu- rally fitted for reciprocal repulsion. There is, first, the literature 58 ELOCUTION. of knowledge, and secondly, the literature of power. The function of the first is, to teach; the function of the second is, to move: the first is a rudder, the second an oar or a sail. The first speaks to the mere discursive understanding ; the second speaks ultimately, it may happen, to the higher understanding or reason, but always through affections of pleasure and sympathy. Remotely, it may travel towards an object seated in what Lord Bacon calls dry light; but proximately it does and must operate, else it ceases to be a literature of power, on and through that humid light which clothes itself in the mists and glittering iris of human passions, desires, and genial emotions. Men have so little reflected on the higher functions of literature, as to find it a paradox if one should describe it as a mean or subordinate purpose of books to give information. But this is a paradox only in the sense which makes it honorable to be paradoxical. Whenever we talk in ordinary language of seek- ing information or gaining knowledge, we understand the words as connected with something of absolute novelty. But it is the gran- deur of all truth that can occupy a very high place in human interests, that it is never absolutely novel to the meanest of minds ; it exists eternally by way of germ or latent principle in the lowest as in the highest, needing to be developed but never to be planted. To be capable of transplantation is the immediate criterion of a truth that ranges on a lower scale." — De Quincey. "Poetry is essentially truthfulness ; and the very incoherences of poetic dreaming are but the struggle and the strife to reach the True in the Unknown." — Mrs. Browning. "Poetry has been as serious a thing to me as life itself; and life has been a very serious thing : there has been no playing at skittles for me in either. I never mistook pleasure for the final cause of poetry ; nor leisure for the hour of the poet. I have done my work, so far, as work ; not as mere hand and head work apart from the personal being, but as the completest expression of that being to which I could attain, — and as work, I offer it to the public ; feel- ing its faultiness more deeply than any of my readers, because measured from the height of my aspiration, — but feeling also that the reverence and sincerity with which the work was done, should protect it in the thoughts of the reverent and sincere." — Ibid. <' Man can never come up to his ideal standard ; it is the nature of the immortal spirit to raise that standard higher and higher, as it goes from strength to strength, still upward and onward. Accord- ingly, the wisest and greatest men are ever the most modest," — Margaret Fuller Ossoli. ILLUSTEATIONS. — DIATONIC MELODY. 59 "Genius cannot be forever on the wing ; it craves a home, a holy land ; it carries reliquaries in its hosom ; it craves cordial draughts from the goblets of other pilgrims. It is always pious, always chivalric, — the artist, like the Preux, throws down his shield to embrace the antagonist who has been able to pierce it ; and the greater the genius, the more do we glow with delight at his power of feeling, need of feeling reverence, not only for the creative soul, but for its manifestation through his fellow-man." — Ibid. "All high poetry is infinite ; it is as the first acorn which contained all oaks potentially. Veil after veil may be withdrawn, and the inmost beauty of the meaning never exposed. A great poem is a fountain forever overflowing with the waters of wisdom and delight, and after one person, or one age, has exhausted all its divine efflu- ence, which their peculiar relations enable them to shaf e, another and yet another succeeds, and new relations are ever developed, the source of an unforeseen and an unconceived delight." — Shelley. " The best men, doing their best, Know peradventure least of what they do : Men usefullest i' the world, are simply used ; The nail that holds the wood, must pierce it first. And He alone who wields the hammer, sees The work advanced by the earliest blow. Take heart." Mrs. Browning. "Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend. And round his dwelling guardian saints attend : Bless'd be that spot, where cheerful guests retire To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire ; Bless'd that abode where want and pain repair, And every stranger finds a ready chair ; Bless'd be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd. Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail. Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale. Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good." — Goldsmith. " — There was one through whom I loved her, one Not learned, save in gracious household ways, Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt In angel instincts, breathing Paradise, 60 ELOCUTION. Interpreter between the gods and men, Who looked all native to her place, and yet On tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce Swayed to her from their orbits as they moved And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay." — Tennyson. SEMITONIC MELODY. The semitone expresses complaint, pity, love, grief, plaintive supplication, and other sentiments allied to these "When the semitone is used with quantity and tremor, the force of the expression is greatly increased. The tremulous semitonic movement may be used on a single word, the more emphatically to mark its plaintiveness of character, or it may be used in continuation through a whole sentence, when the speaker, in the ardor of distressful and tender supplication, would give utterance to the intensity of his feelings." — Toioer. Whining is the misplaced use of the semitone, which is the lan- guage of tenderness, petition, complaint, &c., but i\pver of manly confidence, nor the authoritative self-reliance of truth. The Semitone generally affects a slow time and lon^ quantity. The interjective exclamations of pain, grief, love, and compassion are prolongations of the tonic elements on this interval. But its effect is distinctly perceptible on the short time of immutable syllables. Examples. " Here 's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh ! oh! " — Lady Macbeth. " mighty Caesar ! Dost thou lie so low ! Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils. Shrunk to this little measure? — Fare thee well." — Antony over Csesar^s Body. ** I might have saved her ; now she 's gone forever ! — Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha ! What is 't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft. Gentle, and low: an excellent thing in woman." Lear over the Body of Cordelia. ILLUSTRATIONS. — SEMITONIC MELODY. 61 ** Behold her there, As I beheld her ere she knew my heart, My first, last love ; the idol of my youth, The darling of my manhood, and, alas ! Now the most blessed memory of mine age." The Gardener's Daughter; or, The Pictures. — Tennyson. "Don't think, in my grief, I'm complaining; I gave him, God took him ; 'tis right; And the cry of his mother remaining Shall strengthen his comrades in fight. Not for vengeance, to-day, in my weeping, Goes my prayer to the Infinite Throne, God pity the foe when he 's reaping The harvest of what he has sown ! "Tell his comrades these words of his mother: All over the wide land to-day. The Kachels, who weep with each other, Together in agony pray. They know, in their great tribulation, By the blood of their children outpoured, We shall smite down the foes of the Nation, In the terrible day of the Lord." The Color-Sergeant. — A. D. F. Randolph. *' Poor Chatterton ! he sorrows for thy fate Who would have praised and loved thee, ere too late. Poor Chatterton ! farewell ! of darkest hues This chaplet cast I on thy unshaped tomb ; But dare no longer on the sad theme muse, Lest kindred woes persuade a kindred doom ; For oh ! big gall-drops, shook from Folly's wing. Have blackened the fair promise of my spring ; And the stern Fate transpierced with viewless dart The last pale Hope that shivered at my heart," Monody on the Death of Chatterton. — Coleridge. "And, friends ! — dear friends ! — when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me. And round my bier ye come to weep, — • Let one, most loving of you all, Say, ' Not a tear must o'er her fall — He giveth His beloved, sleep ! ' " The Sleep. — Mrs. Browning. 6 62 ELOCUTION-. "The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, And quench his fiery indignation, Even in the matter of mine innocence : Nay, after that, consume away in rust. But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron ? An if an angel should have come to me, And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would have believed no tongue, but Hubert's." Arthur, in King John. "Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert ! Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue. So I may keep mine eyes ; 0, spare mine eyes ; Though to no use, but still to look on you ! Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold. And would not harm me." — Ibid. "Come, Anthony, and young Octavius, come. Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is aweary of the world: Hated by one he loves ; brav'd by his brother ; Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd. Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. 0, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, And here, my naked breast ; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : Strike, as thou didst at Caesar : for, I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him better Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius." Cassius, in Julius C-ssar. MONOTONE. . According to Dr. Rush, when two or more syllables occur suc- cessively on the same place of radical pitch, the phrase may be called '■'■ih.Q phrase of the Monotone." MONOTONE. 63 When the radical pitch of a syllable is a tone above that of a pre- ceding syllable, the phrase may be termed the ^' Rising Bitone" ; — if below the preceding syllable, the ^^ Falling Ditone^ When the radicals of three syllables successirely ascend a tone, the phrase is called the ^^ Rising Triione" ; when they successively descend a tone, the " Falling Tritone.^' The Monotone may be defined as that inflexible move- ment of the voice which is heard when fear, vastness of thought, force, majesty, power, or intensity of feeling is such as partially to obstruct the powers of utterance. " This movement of the voice may be accounted for by the fact, that, when the excitement is so powerful, and the kind and degree of feeling are such as to agitate the whole frame, the vocal organs will be so affected, and their natural functions so controlled, that they can give utterance to the thought or sentiment in only one note, iterated on the same unvarying line of pitch, " Grandeur of thought and sublimity of feeling are always expressed by this movement. The effect produced by it is deep and impressive. When its use is known, and the rule for its application is clearly understood, the reading will be characterized by a solemnity of manner, a grandeur of re- finement, and a beauty of execution, which all will acknowledge to be in exact accordance with the dictates of Nature, and strictly within the pale of her laws." — Tower. ninstrations of the Monotone. "My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe- wards had sunk : 'T is not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease." Ode to a Nightingale. — Keats. "The lady sprang up suddenly, The lo-^ly lady, Christabel ! It moaned as near, as near can be, But what it is she cannot tell. — On the other side it seems to be. Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak-tree. "The night is chill ; the forest bare ; Is it the wind that moaneth bleak ? 64 ELOCUTION". There is not wind enough in air To move away "the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek ; There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high. On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky. "Hush, beaftng heart of Christabel ! Jesu, Maria, shield her well ! She folded her arms beneath her cloak, And stole to the other side of the oak : "What sees she there ? " — Chuistabel. — Coleridge. "0, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights. That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; So full of dismal terror was the time." Clarence, in Richard III. '* Then my heart it grew ashen and sober As the leaves that were crisped and sere — As the leaves that were withering and sere, And I cried, — ' It was surely October, On this very night of last year. That I journeyed — I journeyed down here — That I brought a dread burden down here, — On this night of all nights in the year. Ah, what demon has tempted me here ? "Well I know now this dim lake of Auber — This misty mid region of Weir, — "Well I know now this dark tarn of Auber, This ghoul-haunted woodland of "Weir.' " Ulalume. — Edgar A. Foe. *'I am not come To stay : to bid farewell, farewell forever, For this I come ! 'T is over ! I must leave thee ! Thekla, I must — must leave thee ! Yet thy hatred Let me not take with me. I pray thee, grant me One look of sympathy, only one look. T0:N^ES. — MONOTONE. 65 Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla ! God! I cannot leave this spot — I cannot! Cannot let go this hand. tell me, Thekla ! That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced That I cannot act otherwise." Max to Thekla. — The Death of Wallenstein. — Schiller. " Grief should be Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate, Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free, Strong to consume small troubles, to commend Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end." Sorrow. — Aubrey De Vere. "1 am old and blind! Men point at me as smitten by God's frown : Afflicted and deserted of my kind, Yet am I not cast down. I am weak, yet strong : I murmur not, that I no longer see ; Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong Father, Supreme ! to Thee. 0, merciful One ! When men are farthest, then art Thou most near ; When friends pass by, my weaknesses to shun, Thy chariot I hear. Thy glorious face Is leaning toward me, and its holy light Shines in upon my lonely dwelling place — And there is no more night." Milton on his Blindness. — Mrs. E. L. Howell. " Hush, the Dead March wails in the people's ears : The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and tears: The blank earth yawns : the mortal disappears ; Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; He is gone who seem'd so great, — Gone ; but nothing can bereave him Of the force he made his own Being here, and we believe him Something far advanced in State, And that he wears a truer crown Than any wreath that man can weave Mm. 6* E Q6 ELOCUTION. But speak no more of Ms renown, Lay your earthly fancies down, And in the vast cathedral leave him ; God accept him, Christ receive him." Ode on the Death of the Duke op Wellington. Tennyson. SELECTIONS. ILLUSTRATIONS OF DIATONIC MELODY. CHAUCER. Mrs. Browning. But it is in Chaucer we touch the true height, and look abroad into the kingdoms and glories of our poetical literature, — it is with Chaucer that we begin our " Books of the Poets," our collections and selections, our pride of place and name. And the genius of the poet shares the character of his position : he was made for an early poet, and the metaphors of dawn and spring doubly become him. A morning star, a lark's exaltation, cannot usher in a glory better. The "cheerful morning face," "the breezy call of incense breath- ing morn," you recognize in his countenance and voice ; it is a voice full of promise and prophecy. He is the good omen of our poetry, the "good-bird," according to the Romans, "the best good angel of the spring," the nightingale, according to his own creed of good luck, heard before the cuckoo. Up rose the sunne, and up rose Emilie, and up rose her poet, the first of a line of kings, conscious of futurity in his smile. He is a king and inherits the earth, and expands his great soul smilingly to embrace his great heritage. Nothing is too high for him to touch with a thought, nothing too low to dower with an affection. As a complete creature cognate of life and death, he cries upon God, — as a sympathetic creature he singles out a daisy from the universe (" si douce est la marguerite"), to lie down by half a summer's day and bless it for fellowship. His senses are open and delicate, like a young child's — his sensibilities capa- cious of supersensual relations, like an experienced thinker's. Child-like, too, his tears and smiles lie at the edge of his eyes, and he is one proof more among the many, that the deepest pathos and the quickest gayeties hide together in the same nature. He is too wakeful and curious to lose the stirring of a leaf, yet not two wide awake to see visions of green and white ladies between the branches ; and a fair house of fame and a noble court of love are built and hid- den in the winking of his eyelash. And because his imagination is SELECTIONS. — DIATONIC MELODY. 67 neither too " high fantastical" to refuse proudly the gravitation of the earth, nor too " light of love " to lose it carelessly, he can create as well as dream, and work with clay as well as cloud ; and when his men and women stand close by the actual ones, your stop-watch shall reckon no difference in the beating of their hearts. He knew the secret of nature and art, — that truth is beauty, — and saying, <' I will make * A Wife of Bath ' as well as Emilie, and you shall remember her as long," we do remember her as long. And he sent us a train of pilgrims, each with a distinct individuality apart from the pilgrimage, all the way from Southwark and the Tabard Inn, to Canterbury and Becket's shrine ; and their laughter comes never to an end, and their talk goes on with the stars, and all the railroads which may intersect the spoilt earth forever, cannot hush the *' tramp, tramp" of their horses' feet. THREE DESCRIPTIONS. Not long ago I was slowly descending the carriage-road after you leave Albano. It had been wild weather when I left Rome, and all across the Campagna the clouds were sweeping in sulphurous blue, with a clap of thunder or two, and breaking gleams of sun along the Claudian aqueduct, lighting tip its arches like the bridge of chaos. But as I climbed the long siope of the Alban mount, the storm swept finally to the north, and the noble outline of the domes of Albano and the graceful darkness of its ilex grove rose against pure streaks of alternate blue and amber, the upper sky gradually flushing through the last fragments of a rain-cloud in deep palpi- tating azure, half ether and half dew. The noon-day sun came slanting down the rocky slopes of La Riccia, and its masses of en- tangled and tall foliage, whose autumnal tints were mixed with the wet verdure of a thousand evergreens, were penetrated with it as with rain. I cannot call it color, it was conflagration. Purple, and crimson and scarlet, like the curtains of God's tabernacle, the rejoicing trees sank into the valley in showers of light, every sep- arate leaf quivering with buoyant and burning life ; each, as it turned to reflect or to transmit the sunbeam, first a torch and then an emerald. Far up into the recesses of the valley, the green vistas, arched like the hollows of mighty waves of some crystalline sea, with the arbutus flowers, dashed along their flanks for foam, and silver flakes of orange spray tossed into the air around them, breaking over the gray walls of rock into a thousand separate stars^ fading and kindling alternately as the weak wind lifted and let them fall. Every blade of 'grass burned like the golden floor of 68 ELOCUTION-. heaven, opening in sudden gleams as the foliage broke and closed above it, as sheet lightning opens in a cloud at sunset the motion- less masses of dark rock — dark, though flushed tvith scarlet lichen, casting their quiet shadows across its restless radiance, the foun- tain underneath them filling its marble hollow with blue mist and fitful sound, and, over all, — the multitudinous bars of amber and rose, the sacred clouds that have no darkness, and only exist to illuminate, were seen in intervals between the solemn and orbed repose of the stone pines, passing to lose themselves in the last, white, blinding lustre of the measureless line where the Campagna melted into the blaze of the sea. — Ruskin. I wish I could describe one scene which is passing before my memory at this moment, when I found myself alone in a solitary valley of the Alps, without a guide, and a thunder-storm coming on. I wish I could explain how every circumstance combined to pro- duce the same feeling and ministered to unity of impression, — the slow, wild wreathing of the vapors round the peaks, concealing their summits, and imparting in semblance their own motion, till each dark mountain form seemed to be mysterious and alive ; the eagle-like plunge of the lammer-geier, the bearded vulture of the Alps ; the rising of a flock of choughs, which I had surprised at their feast on carrion, with their red beaks and legs, and their wild shrill cries startling the solitude and silence, — till the blue light- ning streamed at last, and the shattering thunder crashed as if the mountains must give way ; and then came the feelings which, in their fulness, man can feel but once in life ; mingled sensations of awe and triumph and defiance of danger, — pride, rapture, con- tempt of pain, humbleness, and intense repose, — as if all the strife and struggle of the elements were only uttering the unrest of man's bosom, so that in all such scenes there is a feeling of relief, and he is tempted to cry out exultingly, " There! there ! all this was in my heart, and it never was said out till now." — Robertson. The gray church and grayer tombs, look divine with this crimson gleam on them. Nature is now at her evening prayers ; she is kneeling before those red hills. I see her prostrate on the great steps of h«r altar, praying for a fair night for mariners at sea, for . travellers in deserts, for lambs in moors, and unfledged birds in woods I saw — now I see — a woman- Titan : her robe of blue air spread to the outskirts of the heath, where yonder flock is grazing : a veil, white as an avalanche, sweeps from her head to her feet, and arabesques of lightning flame on its border. SELECTIONS. — DIATONIC MELODY. 69 Under iter breast I see her zone, purple like that horizon ; through its blush shines the star of evening. Her steady eyes I cannot picture — they are clear, they are as deep as lakes, they are lifted and full of worship, they tremble with the softness of love and the lustre of prayer. Her forehead has the expanse of a cloud, and is paler than the early moon, risen long before dark gathers, — she reclines her bosom on the ridge of Stilbro' Moor, her mighty hands are joined beneath it. So kneeling, face to face, she speaks with God. — Charlotte Bronte. INDIVIDUALITY. Emerson. There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance ; that imitation is suicide ; that he must take himself for better or for worse, as his portion ; that, though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows wrhat that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes such impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best ; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt, his genius deserts him ; no muse befriends ; no invention, no hope. Trust thyself ; every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the ^ace the divine Providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves child-like to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trust- worthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. WOMAN'S EDUCATION. Rushin. "A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet." The perfect loveliness of a woman's countenance can only consist in that majestic peace, which is founded in the memory of happy 70 ELOCUTION. and useful years, — full of sweet records ; and from the joining of this with that yet more majestic childishness, which is still full of change and promise ; — opening always — modest at once, and bright, with hope of better things to be won, and to be bestowed. There is no old age where there is still that promise — it is eternal youth. Thus, then, you have first to mould her physical frame, and then, as the strength she gains will permit you, to fill and temper her mind with all knowledge and thoughts which tend to confirm its natural instincts of justice, and refine its natural tact of love. All such knowledge should be given her as may enable her to understand, and even to aid the work of men ; and yet it should be given, not as knowledge, — not as if it were, or could be, for her an object to know ; but only to feel, and to judge. It is of no moment, as a matter of pride or perfectness in herself, whether she knows many languages or one ; but it is of the utmost, that she should be able to show kindness to a stranger, and to understand the sweet- ness of a stranger's tongue. It is of no moment to her own worth or dignity that she should be acquainted with this science or that ; but it is of the highest that she should be trained in habits of acurate thought ; that she should understand the meaning, the inevitableness, and the loveliness of natural laws, and follow at least Bome one path of scientific attainment, as far as to the threshold of that bitter Valley of Humiliation, into which only the wisest and bravest of men can descend, owning themselves forever children, gathering pebbles on a boundless shore. It is of little consequence how many positions of cities she knows, or how many dates of events, or how many names of celebrated persons — it is not the object of education to turn a woman into a dictionary ; but it is deeply necessary that she should be taught to enter with her whole personality into the history she reads ; to picture the passages of it vitally in her own bright imagination; to apprehend with her fine instincts, the pathetic circumstances and dramatic relations, which the historian too often only eclipses by tis reasoning, and disconnects by his arrangement ; it is for her to trace the hidden equities of divine reward, and catch sight, through the darkness, of the fateful threads of woven fire that connect error with its retribution. But, chiefly of all, she is to be taught to extend the limits of her sympathy with respect to that history which is being forever determined, as the moments pass in which she draws her peaceful breath ; and to the temporary calamity which, were it but rightly mourned by her, would recur no more hereafter. She is to exercise herself in imagining what would be the effects upon her SELECTIONS. — SEMITONIC MELODY. 71 mind and conduct, if she were daily brought into the presence of the suffering which is not the less real because shut from her sight. She is to be taught somewhat to understand the nothingness of the proportion which that little world in which she lives and loves, bears to the world in which God lives and loves ; — and solemnly she is to be taught to strive that her thoughts of piety may not be feeble in proportion to the number they embrace, nor her prayer more languid than it is for the momentary relief from pain of her husband or her child, when it is uttered for the multitudes of those who have none to love them, — and is "for all who are desolate and oppressed." ILLUSTRATIONS OF SEMITONIC MELODY. DEATH OF LITTLE NELL. From "The Old Curiosity Shop." — Dichens. By little and little, the old man had drawn back towards the inner chamber, while these words were spoken. He pointed there, as he replied, with trembling lips, — "You plot among you to wean my heart from her. You will never do that — never while I have life. I have no relative or friend but her — I never had — I never will have. She is all in all to me. It is too late to part us now." Waving them off with his hand, and calling softly to her as he went, he stole into the room. They who were left behind drew close together, and after a few whispered words, — not unbroken by emotion, or easily uttered, — followed him. They moved so gently, that their footsteps made no noise, but there were S^obs from among the group, and sounds of grief and mourning. For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest The solemn stillness was no marvel now. She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life ; not one who had lived and suffered death. Her couch was dressed with, here and there, some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favor. "When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it always." These were her words. She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird — a poor slight thing the pressure of a finger would have^ crushed — was stirring nimbly in its cage ; and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute and motionless forever. 72 ELOCUTION. Where were the traces of her early cares, her sufferings, and fatigues ? All gone. His was the true death before their weeping eyes. Sorrow was dead indeed in her, but peace and perfect hap- piness were born ; imaged in her tranquil beauty and profound repose. And still her former self lay there, unaltered in this change. Yes. The old fireside had smiled on that same sweet face ; it had passed like a dream through haunts of misery and care ; at the door of the poor schoolmaster on the summer evening, before the furnace fire upon the cold, wet night, at the still, dying boy, there had been the same mild, lovely look. So shall we know the angels in their majesty, after death. The old man held one languid arm in his, and kept the small hand tight folded to his breast, for warmth. It was the hand she had stretched out to him with her last smile — the hand that had led him on through all their wanderings. Ever and anon he passed it to his lips ; then hugged it to his breast again, murmuring that it was warmer now ; and as he said it, he looked, in agony, to those who stood around, as if imj^loring them to help her. She was dead, and past all help, or need of it. The ancient rooms she had seemed to fill with life, even while her own was ebbing fast — the garden she had tended — the eyes she had gladdened — the noiseless haunts of many a thoughtless hour — the paths she had trodden as if it were put yesterday — could know her no more. <' It is not," said the schoolmaster, as he bent do^n to kiss her on her cheek, and gave his tears free vent — " it is not in this world that Heaven's justice ends. Think what it is compared with the world to which her young spirit has winged its early flight, and say, if one deliberate wish expressed in solemn terms above this bed could call her back to life, which of us would utter it ! " THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. Hood. *' Drowned! drowned!" One more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Kashly importunate, Gone to her death ! - Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair! SELECTIONS. — SBMITONIC MELODY. 73 Look at lier garments Clinging like cerements ; Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing ; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. — Touch her not scornfully ; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly ; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and un dutiful ; P-ast all dishonor, Death has- left on her Only the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers, One of Eve's family, — Wipe those poor lips of hers, Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; Whilst wonderment guesses, Where was her home ? Who was her father? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full. Home she had none. 74 ELOCUTION. Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly Feelings had changed : Love, by harsh evidence, Thrown from its eminence; Even God's providence Seeming estranged. Where the lamps quiver So far in the river. With many a light. From window and casement, From garret to basement, She stood, with amazement, " Houseless by night. The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver But not the dark arch. Or the black flowing river: Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery, Swift to be hurled — Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world ! In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly The rough river ran, — Over the brink of it. Picture it — think of it, Dissolute man ! Lave in it, drink of it, Then, i' you can ! Take her up tenderly. Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly, — Smooth, and compose them SELECTIONS. — SEMITONIC MELODY. 76 And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring • Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely. Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest. — Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly. Over her breast ! Owning her weakness, Her evil behavior, ■ And leaving with meekness. Her sins to her Saviour ! WOLSEY'S SOLILOQUY AETER HIS DOWNFALL. From " Henry Eighth.''* Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! • This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms. And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root. And then he falls as I do, I have ventured. Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye ; I feel my heart new open'd : 0, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors ! There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to — 76 ELOCUTION. That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. — WOLSEY'S ADDRESS TO CROMWELL. Ibid Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let 's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be. And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, — say I taught thee ; Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory. And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, — Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to Avin by 't ? Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace. To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's. Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, Cromwell, Thou fall'st, a blessed martyr. Serve the king ; And, Pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny ; 'tis the king's ; my robe. And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. SELECTION'S. — MONOTONE. 77 ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE MONOTONE. INVOCATION TO LIGHT. Opening of the Third Booh of "Paradise Lost." Hail, holy Light ! offspring of heaven first-born, Or of the Eternal co-eternal beam. May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee. Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream. Whose fountain who shall tell ? Before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of Grod, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing. Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'd In that obscure sojourn ; while in my flight, Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other, notes than to the Orphean lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night ; Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend, ■ Though hard and rare ; thee I revisit safe. And feel thy sovran vital lamp ; but thou Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn ; So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, Or dim diffusion veil'd. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow. Nightly I visit : nor sometimes forget Those other two equall'd with me in fate. So were I equall'd with them in renown. Blind Thamyris, and blind Maeonides, And Tiresias, and Phineus, prophets old : Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move 7^ 78 ELOCUTION. Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid, Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year Seasons return ; but not t.o me returns Day, or the sweet approach of eyen 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 dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men . Cut ofi", and for the book of knowledge fair. Presented with a universal blank Of nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. So much the rather thou, celestial Light, Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate ; there plant eyes ; all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight ARTEVELDE'S FAEEWELL TO THE CITIZENS OF GHENT. Henry Taylor, Then fare ye well, ye citizens of Ghent! This is the last time you will see me here, Unless God prosper me past human hope. I thank you for the dutiful demeanor Which never — no not once — in any of you Have I found wanting, though severely tried When discipline might seem without reward. Fortune has not been kind to me, good friends ; But let not that deprive me of your loves. Or of your good report. Be this the word ; My rule was brief, calamitous — but just. No glory which a prosperous fortune gilds, If shorn of this addition, could suffice To lift my heart so high as it is now. This is that joy in which my soul is strong, That there is not a man amongst you all Who can reproach me that I used my power To do him an injustice. If there be It is not to my knowledge ; yet I pray him, That he will now forgive me, taking note That I had not to deal with easy times. SELECTIONS. — MON"OTONE. 79 DARKNESS. Byron. 1 had a dream, wMcli "was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Bid wander, darkling, in the eternal space, Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth 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 Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light. And they did live by watch-fires ; and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings, the huts. The habitations of all things which dwell. Were burned for beacons : cities were consumed, And men were gathered round their blazing homes, To look once more into each other's face: Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanoes and their mountain torch : A fearful hope was all the world contained: Forests were set on' fire ; but, hour by hour, They fell and faded ; and the crackling trunks Extinguished 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 And hid their eyes, and wept ; and some did rest Their chins upon their clinched 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. 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 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 With bloodj and each sat sullenly apart, 80 ELOCUTION. 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 Died ; and their bones were tombless as their flesh : The meagre by the meagre were devoured. Even dogs assail'd their masters,— all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds, and beasts, and famished men at bay, 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 That answered not with a caress — he died. The crowd was famished 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 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 "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 : 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 stirr'd within their silent depths. 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 ; 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. ILLUSTRATION'S. — DEGREES OF PITCH. 81 PITCH, Continued. The various degrees of pitch may Tbe thus represented: — Very high > d — a — delightful, joyous, glorious. High 9 ^ d — ^ — bright, pleasant, cheerful. Middle gd ^ ^ — £i — faith, peace, temperance, charity. Low ^ A 4 — a — melancholy, suffering, sadness. Very low . d — a — awe, desolation, woe, horror.' " That, in the formation of language, men have been much influenced by a regard to the nature of things and actions meant to be represented, is a fact of which every known speech gives proof. In our own language, for instance, who does not perceive in the sound of the words thunder, bound- less, terrible, a something appropriate to the sublime ideas intended to be conveyed? In the word crash we hear the very action implied. Imp, elf , — ■ how descriptive of the miniature beings to which we apply them ! Fairy, — how light o.nd tripping, just like the fairy herself! — the word, no more than the thing, seems fit to bend the grass-blade, or shake the tear from the blue-eyed flower.'-' — Robert Chalmers. Examples. Very High Pitch. "There 's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There 's a titter of winds in that beechen tree. There's a smile on the fruit and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea !" — Bryant. "Ring joyous chords ! — ring out again ! A swifter still and a wilder strain ! And bring fresh wreaths! — we will banish all Save the. free in heart from our festive hall. On through the maze of the fleet dance, on ! ^^ —-Mrs. Hemans. "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." — Byron. High Pitch. "A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when ^ Music arose with its voluptuous swell. Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell." — Byron. F 82 ELOCUTION. " I come ! I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song ! Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth. By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass. *' From th.e streams and founts I have loosed the chain, They are sweeping on to the silvery main, They are flashing down from the mountain brows, They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs. They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves ; And the earth resounds with the joy of waves." Mrs. Hemans. Middle Pitcli. "Thought is deeper than all speech; Feeling deeper than all thought; Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves is taught." — C. P. Cranch. "Be wise; not easily forgiven Are those, who, setting wide the doors that bar The secret bridal chambers of the heart. Let in the day." — Tennyson. "All the past of Time reveals A bridal-dawn of thunder-peals. Whenever Thought hath wedded Fact." — iZ>io?. Low Pitcli. "Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing : Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow. And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying." — Tennyson. "Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropt down, ^ 'T was sad as sad could be ; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea." — Coleridge. "His heavy-shotted hammock shroud Drops in his vast and wandering grave." — Tennyson. ILLUSTEATIOJSrS. — DEGREES OF PITCH. 83 ** Slowly and sadly we laid Mm 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," — Wolfe. ''Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher, Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire." Tennyson. Very Low Pitcli. " News fitting to the night. Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible." — Shakespeare. ''Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! " — Campbell. "He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan — Without a grave, unknelled, uncofiined, and unknown." — Byron. "For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed ; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still ! " Byron. "And there lay the rider, distorted and pale. With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners, alone, The lances, unlifted, the trumpet, unblown." — Ihid. "The majority of persons in this country pitch their voices too high, not only when they read and speak in public, but also in their colloquial inter- course. We not unfrequently meet with those who always speak in the highest key of the natural voice, and we occasionally meet with some who even speak in the falsetto. A high pitch in speech is unpleasant to the cultivated ear; it is totally inadequate to the correct expression of senti- ments of respect, veneration, dignity, or sublimity." — Comstock. " Few faults in speaking, however, have a worse effect than the grave and hollow note of the voice, into which the studious and sedentary are peculiarly apt to fall in public address. A deep and sepulchral solemnity is thus imparted to all subjects, and to all occasions, alike. The free and natural use of the voice is lost : and formality and dullness become insep- arably associated with public address on serious subjects; or the tones of bombast and affectation take the place of those which should flow from earnestness and elevation of mind." — Russell. The various kinds and degrees of emotion require different notes of the voice for their appropriate expression. Deep feeling pro- duces low tones ; joyful and elevated feeling inclines to a high strain ; and pity, though widely differing in force, is also expressed by the higher notes of the scale. Moderate emotion inclines to a middle pitch. 84 elocutions' ILLUSTRATIONS OF DEGREES OF PITCH. Higli Pitcli. "Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer, by this sun of York ; And all the clouds that lowr'd upon our house, In the deep hosom of the ocean bury'd. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; Our stern aHirums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim visaged war has smoothed his wrinkled front ; And now — instead of mounting barbed steeds, To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — . He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, To the lascivious pleasing of a lute." Gloster, in Richard the Second. "Down, down, down, Down to the depths of the sea, She sits at her wheel in the humming town. Singing most joyfully. Hark, what she sings, ' joy, joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy, For the priest and the bell, and the holy well. For the Avheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun.' And so she sings her fill. Singing most joyfully. Till the shuttle falls from her hand. And the whizzing wheel stands still. She steals to the window, and looks at the sand ; And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare ; And anon there breaks a sigh. And anon there drops a tear. From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh, For the cold str.inge eyes of a little Mermaiden, And the gleam of her golden hair." The Forsaken Merman, — Arnold. ILLUSTRATIONS. — HIGH PITCH. 85 'But if ye saw that wliich no eyes can see, The inward beauty of her lively sp'rit, Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, Much more then would ye wonder at that sight, And stand astonished like to those which read Medusa's mazeful head. There dwells sweet Love, and constant Chastity, Unspotted Faith, and comely Womanhood, Regard of Honour, and mild Modesty ; There Virtue reigns as queen in royal throne And giveth laws alone, The which the base affections do obey. And yield their services unto her will; Ne thought of things uncomely ever may Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill. Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures. And unrevealed pleasures. Then would ye wonder and her praises sing, That all the woods would answer, and your echo ring." The Epithalamium. — Spenser, '• Sea-kings' daughter from over the sea, Alexandra ! Saxon and Norman and Dane are we. But all of us Danes in our welcome of thee, Alexandra ! Welcome her, thunders of fort and of fleet ! Welcome her, thundering cheer of the street! Welcome her, all things useful and sweet. Scatter the blossom under her feet ! Break, happy land, into earlier flowers! Make music, bird, in th« new budded bowers! Blazon your mottos of blessing and prayer I Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours ! Warble, bugle, and trumpet, blare ! Flags, flutter out upon turrets ana towers ! Flames, on the windy headland flare! Utter your jubilee, steeple and spire ! Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air! Flash, ye cities, in rivers of fire! Rush to the roof, sudden rocket, and higher Melt into the stars for the land's desire! 8 86 ELOCUTION. Roll and rejoice, jubilant voice. Roll as a ground-swell dashed on the strand, Roar as the sea when he welcomes the land, And welcome her, welcome the land's desire, The sea-kings' daughter, as happy as fair, Blissful bride of a blissful heir, Bride of the heir of the kings of the sea — joy to the people, and joy to the throne, Come to us, love us, and make us your own : For Saxon or Dane or Norman we, Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be, We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee, Alexandra! " A Welcome to Alexandra. — Tennyaoru. Medium Pitcli. "Be sure, no earnest work Of any honest creature, howbeit weak. Imperfect, ill-adapted, fails so much, It is not gathered as a grain of sand To enlarge the sum of human action used For carrying out God's end. No creature works So ill, observe, that therefore he 's cashiered. The honest earnest man must stand and work ; The- woman also; otherwise she drops At once below the dignity of man, Accepting serfdom. Free men freely work : Whoever fears God, fears to sit at ease. . . . Let us be content, in work. To do the thing we can, and not presume To fret because it's little," — Aurora Leigh. " Though we fail indeed, You . . I . . a score of such weak workers, . . He Fails never. If He cannot work by us. He will work over us. Does he want a man. Much less a woman, think you ? Every time The star winks there, so many souls are born. Who all shall work too. Let our own be calm: We should be ashamed to sit beneath those stars, Impatient that we're nothing " — Ibid. ILLUSTEATIONS. — MEDIUM PITCH. 87 "Fail — yet rejoice; because no less The failure which makes thy distress May teach another full success. **It may be that in some great need Thy life's poor fragments are d.ecreed To help build up a lofty deed." Light and Shade. — 3Iiss Procter. . . . " The highest fame was never reached except By what was aimed above it. Art for art, And good for God Himself, the essential Good ! We '11 keep our aims sublime, our eyes erect, Although our woman-hands should shake and fail ; And if we fail. ... But must we ? — Shall I fail? The Greeks said grandly in their tragic phrase, * Let no one be called happy till his death.' To which I add, — Let no one till his death Be called unhappy. Measure not the work Until the day's out and the labour done ; Then bring your gauges. If the day's work's scant, • Why, call it scant; affect no compromise; And, in that we have nobly striven at least, Deal with us nobly, women though we be, And honour us with truth, if not with praise." 3Irs. Browning. "Work, true work, done honestly and manfully for Christ, never can be failure. . . . True Christian life is like the march of a conquering army into a fortress which has been breached. Men fall by hundreds in the ditch. Was their fall a failure ? Nay, for their bodies bridge over the hollow, and over them the rest pass on to victory. . . These are the two remedies for doubt — Activity and Prayer. He who works and feels he works — he who prays and knows he prays — has got the secret of transforming life-failure into life-victory." — Robertson. "He [P. W. Robertson] lies in a hollow of the Downs he loved so well. The sound of the sea may be heard there in the distance; and, standing by his grave, it seems a fair and fitting requiem ; for if its inquietude was the image of his outward life, its central calm is the image of his deep peace of activity in God. He sleeps well; 88 ELOCUTION. and we, who are left alone with our love and his great result of work, cannot but rejoice that he has entered on his Father's rest." — ■ Stopford A. Brooke. *"0 dull, one-sided voice,' said I, 'Wilt thou make everything a lie To flatter me that I may die? "I know that age to age succeeds. Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, A dust of systems and of creeds. *'I cannot hide that some have striven, .Achieving calm, to whom was given The joy that mixes man with Heaven: "Who, rowing hard against the stream. Saw distant gates of Eden gleam. And did not dream it was a dream; "But heard, by secret transport led, Even in the charnels of the dead, The murmur of the fountain-head — "Which did accomplish their desire. Bore and forebore, and did not tire, Like Stephen, an unquenched fire. "He heeded not reviling tones, Nor sold his heart to idle moans. Though cursed and scorned, and bruised with stones : "But looking upward, full of grace. He prayed, and from a happy place God's glory smote him on the face.' " The Two Voices. — Tennyson, Low Pitch. **If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : If the assassination Could trammel up the consequences, and catch, .With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We 'd jump the life to come. — But in these cases. We still have judgment here ; that we but teach ILLUSTRATIONS. — LOW PITCH. 89 Bloody instructions, which being taught, return To plague the inventor : This even handed justice Commends the ingredient of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He 's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject. Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, Who should against the murder bar the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues will Plead like angels, trumpet-tongued against The deep damnation of his taking off; And pity, like a naked new-born babe. Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air. Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. — I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition which o'erleaps itself, And falls on the other." — Macbeth. "All he had loved and moulded into thought, From shape, and hue, and odor, and sweet sound, Lamented Adonais. Morning sought Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound. Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground, Dimmed the aerial eyes that kindle day ; Afar the melancholy thunder moaned ; Pale ocean in unquiet slumber lay,. And the wild winds flew around, sobbing in their dismay.' Adonais. — Shelley. *' The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given ; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully afar ; Whilst burning through the inmost vail of heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star. Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are." — Ibid. " The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; 8* 90 ELOCUTION-. An empty urn within her wither'd hands, Whose holy dust was scatter'd long ago ; The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now ; The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow, Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress." Childe Harold. — Byrork ' ' One in whose eyes the smile of kindness made Its haunts, like flowers by sunny brooks in May, Yet, at the thought of others' pain, a shade Of sweeter sadness chased the smile away. "Nor deem that when the hand that moulders here Was raised in menace, realms were chilled with fear, And armies mustered at the sign, as when Clouds rise on clouds before the rainy East, — Gray captains leading bands of veteran men And fiery youths to be the vulture's feast. Not thus were waged the mighty wars that gave The victory to her who fills this grave ; Alone her task was wrought. Alone the battle fought ; Through that long strife her constant hope was staid On God alone, nor looked for other aid. *' She met the hosts of sorrow with a look That altered not beneath the frown they wore. And soon the lowering brood were tamed, and took, Meekly, her gentle rule, and frowned no more. Her soft hand put aside the assaults of wrath. And calmly broke in twain The. fiery shafts of pain, And rent the nets of passion from her path. By that victorious hand despair was slain. With love she vanquished hate and overcame Evil with good, in her Great Master's name." The Conqueror's Grave, — Bryant. " He did but float a little way Ad.own the stream of time. With dreamy eyes watching the ripples play, ILLUSTRATIONS. — LOW PITCH. 91 Or listening their fairy chime ; His slender sail Ne'er felt the gale ; He did but float a little way, And putting to the shore While yet 't was early day, Went calmly on his way, To dwell with us no more! No jarring did he feel, No grating on his vessel's keel ; A strip of silver sand Mingled the waters with the land Where he was seen no more ; stern word — Nevermore ! " Full short his journey was ; no dust Of earth unto his sandals clave ; The weary weight that old men must. He bore not to the grave. He seemed a cherub who had lost his way And wandered hither, so his stay With us was short, and 't was most meet That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet To stand before his God : blest word — Evermore I " Threnodia. — Lowell. "Tenderness And woe are twins ! and may not deeply bless Except together, when the tear one weeps Falls in the golden cup the other keeps Hid for this moment in his breast, unshown Till needed most," — After Parting. — 3Iiss Greenwell. "The melancholy days are come. The saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods, And meadows brown and sear ; Heaped in the hollow of the grave, The Autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, And to the rabbit's tread. 92 ELOCUTION. The robin and the wren are flown, And from the shrubs the jay, And from the woodtop calls the crow Through all the gloomy day." The Death of the Flowers. — Bryant. "November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh; The shortning winter day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae thq pleugh ; The blackening trains o' craws to their repose ; The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end. Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend." The Cotter's Saturday Night. — Burns. MODULATION, Continued. QUALITIES OF TONE. The different kinds or qualities of tone are the Pure Tone, the Orotund, the Aspirated, the Falsetto, the Guttural, and the Trembling. The Pure Tone is the ordinary tone of a good and well- trained voice, clear, even, smooth, round, flowing, flexible in sound, and producing a moderate resonance in the head. It is the tone to be employed in all ordinary reading, where great passion or violent feeling is not expressed. Illustrations. " No education deserves the name, unless it develops thought, — unless it pierces down to the mysterious spiritual principle of mind, and starts that into activity and growth. There, all education, intellectual, moral, religious, begins ; for morality, religion, intelli- gence, have all one foundation in vital thought;^ — that is, in thought which conceives all objects with which it deals, whether temporal or eternal, visible or invisible, as living realities, not as barren propositions. Here is the vital principle of all growth in learning, in virtue, in intelligence, in holiness. If this fail, there is no hope ; TONES. — PUKE QUALITY. 93 'The pillared firmament is rottenness And earth's base built on stubble,' Thus, force of being, to labor, to create, to pluck out the heart of nature's mystery, — this is the law of Genius." — E. P. Whipple. "There are many — who say, Grod is near or far off, that his wisdom or his goodness appear quite specially in one age or another, — truly this is idle deception; is he not the unchangeable, eternal Love, and does he not love us and bless us at one hour just as much as at another ? As we ought, properly, to call the eclipse of the sun, an eclipse of the earth, so it is man who is obscured, never the Infinite ; but we are like the people who look at the obscuration of the sun in the water, and then, when the water trembles, cry out, ' See how the glorious sun struggles ! ' " — Richter. "There is a fine engraving of Jean Paul Richter, surrounded by floating clouds, all of which are angels' faces; but so soft and shadowy, that they must be sought for, to be perceived. It was a beautiful idea thus to environ Jean Paul, for whosoever reads him with earnest thoughtfulness will see heavenly features perpetually shining forth through the golden mists of rolling vapor E-emember — This picture embodies a great spiritual truth. In all clouds that surround the soul, there are angel faces, and we should see them if we were calm and holy. It is because we are impatient of our destiny, and do not understand its use in our eternal pro- gression, that the clouds which envelop it seem like black masses of thunder, or cold and dismal obstructions of the sunshine. If man looked at his being as a whole, or had faith that all things were intended to bring him into harmony with the divine will, he would gratefully acknowledge that spiritual dew and rain, wind and lightning, cloud and sunshine, all help his growth, as their natural forms bring to maturity the flowers and grain. ' Whosoever quar- rels with his fate, does not understand it,' says Bettine ; and among all her inspired sayings, she spoke none wiser." — 3Irs. L. M. Child. " The simplest faith, be it only deep and trustful, the very smallest idea of a mission in life assigned by God, — be it only lovingly and clearly seen, — 'lifteth the poor out of the dust,' and 'to them that have no might increaseth strength.' As of old it banished disease, and couched the blind, and soothed the maniac, by miracles of power, so does it still heal and bless by its miracles of love. It puts a divine fire into the dullest soul, and draws in 94 ELOCUTION. Saul also among the prophets ; it turns the peasant into the apostle, and the apostle's meanest follower into the martyr." — James 3Iartineau. "A little consideration of what takes place around us every day would show us, that a higher law than that of our wills regulates events ; that our painful labors are unnecessary and fruitless ; that only in our simple, easy, spontaneous action are we strong, and by contenting ourselves with obedience we become divine. Belief and love, — a believing love will relieve us of a vast load of care. my brothers, God exists. There is a soul at the centre of nature, and over the will of every man, so that none of us can wrong the universe. It has so infused its strong enchantment into nature, that we prosper when we accept its advice, and when we struggle to wound its creatures, our hands are glued to our sides, or they beat our own breasts. The whole course of things goes to teach us faith. We need only obey. There is guidance for each of us and by lowly listening we shall hear the right word." — Emerson. OROTUND QTJALITY. The Orotund is the pure tone deepened, and intensified for the expression of the more earnest and vehement pas- sages of feeling, or the profound emotions of the. soul. It produces a greater resonance in the head and chest, requires depression in the larynx, opening of the throat, extension of the mouth, and expansion of the whole chest. Exercises upon this tone are admirably adapted to strengthen the vocal organs, and give life and spirit to the student of oratory; being also important, in a physical point of view, by strengthening and expanding the lungs. It is the only kind of voice appropriate to the master style of epic and dramatic reading, the full body of the tone giving satisfactory expression to sentiments associated with dignity and grandeur. Orotund quality admits of three degrees,, called, accord- ing to the intensity of emotion, effusive, expulsive, and explosive orotund, (corresponding to effusive, expulsive, and explosive breathing.) In other cases it is combined with aspiration, being rendered impure by violence of emotion and force of breath. TONES. — OEOTUND QUALITY. 95 Effusive orotund is heard in the utterance of sentiments of solemnity and pathos, when mingled with grandeur and sublimity. It is also the appropriate tone of reverence and adoration. Examples. 'J Being faithful To thine own self, thou art faithful too to me : If our fates part, our hearts remain united. A bloody hatred will divide forever The houses of Piccolomini and Friedland; But we belong not to our houses — Go! Quick ! quick ! and separate thy righteous cause From our unholy and unblessed one ! " Thekla to Max. The Death of Wallenstein. — Schiller. ** Ah wasteful woman! she who may On her Sweet self set her own price Knowing he cannot choose but pay — How has she cheapened Paradise ! How given for nought her priceless gift, How spoiled the bread and spill'd the wine, Which, spent with due, respective thrift, Had made brutes men, and men divine ! " Coventry Fatmore. '*Eise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise, Exalt thy towery head, and lift thine eyes ! See a long race thy spacious courts adorn; ' • See future sons and daughters, yet unborn, In crowding ranks on every side arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend ; See thy bright altars throng' d with prostrate kings, And heap'd with products of Sabean springs! For thee Idume's spicy forests bl-ow. And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, And break upon thee in a flood of day ! No more the rising Sun shall gild the morn, Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 96 ELOCUTION. But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays, One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze O'erflow thy courts: the Light. himself shall shine Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine ! The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, Eocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; But fix'd his word, his saving power remains ; Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns ! " The Messiah. — Pope. **0 heart of mine, keep patience! — Looking forth As from the Mount of Vision, I behold, Pure, just, and free, the Church of Christ on earth, — The martyr's dream, the golden age foretold! And found at last, the mystic Graal I see Brimmed with His blessing, pass from lip to lip In sacred pledge of human fellowship ; And over all the songs of angels hear, — Songs of the love that casteth out all fear, — Songs of the Gospel of Humanity ; Lo ! in the midst, with the same look He wore Healing and blessing on Gennesaret's shore, Folding together, with the all-tender might Of His great love, the dark hands and the white. Stands the Consoler, soothing every pain. Making all burdens light, and breaking every chain." Lines on a Prayer-Book. — Wliittier^ "0 earth, so full of dreary noises! men, with wailing in your voices ! delved gold, the waller's heap! strife, curse, that o'er it fall! God makes a silence through you all, And giveth His beloved; sleep ! " The Sleep. — 3Irs. Browning, "Oh! change — oh! wondrous change — Burst are the prison-bars — This moment — there, so low, So agonized — and now — Beyond the stars ! «*0h! change — stupendous change! There lies the soulless clod : TONES. — OKOTUND QUALITY. 97 The Sun eternal breaks — Tlie new Immortal wakes — Wakes with his God ! " The Pauper's Death-Bed. — 3Irs. Southey. Expulsive Orotund. Expulsive orotund appropriately belongs to earnest and vehement declamation, to impassioned emotion — and there- fore to any language uttered in the form of shouting. Examples. «' Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote ! It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning, we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divinity which shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven us to arms ; and, blinded to her own interest for our good, she has obstinately per- sisted, till independence is now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should we defer the Declaration ? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a reconcilia- tion with England, which shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his own life, and his own honor? Are not you. Sir, who sit in that chair, — is not he, our venerable colleague near you, — are not both already proscribed and predestined objects of punishment and of vengeance ? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the power of Eng- land remains, but outlaws? " — Supposed Speech of John Adams. — Webster. " The war >s actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ear the sound of clashing arms ! Our breth- ren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? What is it that Gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and sla- very ? Forbid it. Almighty God ! I know not what course others may take ; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! " — Patrick Henry. "Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! I hold to you the hands you first beheld. To show they are still free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome to his home Again! — sacred forms, how proud you look! 9 G 98 ELOCUTION. How high you lift your heads into the sky! How huge you are ! how mighty, and how free ! Ye are the things that tower, that shine, — whose smile Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, I'm with you once again ! — I call to you With all my voice! — I hold my hands to you, To show they are still free. I rush to you As though I could embrace you ! " William Tell. — Sheridan Knowles. "I scorn you that ye wail. Who use your petty griefs for pedestals To stand on, beckoning pity from without. And deal in pathos of antitheses Of what ye were forsooth, and what ye are ; — I scorn you like an angel ! Yet, one cry, I, too, would drive up, like a column erect. Marble to marble, from my heart to heaven, A monument of anguish, to transpierce And overtop your vapory complaints Expressed from feeble woes ! "For, ye heavens, ye are my witnesseB, That I, struck out from nature in a blot. The outcast, and the mildew of things good, . The leper of angels, the excepted dust Under the common rain of daily gifts, — I the snake, I the tempter, I the cursed, — To whom the highest and the lowest alike Say, Go from us — we have no need of thee, — Was made by God like others. Good and fair, He did create me ! — ask Him, if not fair ; Ask, if I caught not fair and silverly . His blessing for chief angels, on my head, Until it grew there, a crown crystallized ! Ask, if He never called me by my name, Lucifer — ]|:indly said as 'Gabriel' — iwa/ef — rsoft as ' Michael! ' While serene I, standing in the glory of the lamps. Answered 'my father,' innocent of shame And of the sense of thunder. Ha ! ye think, TONES. — OKOTUND QUALITY. 99 White angels in your niches, — I repent, — And would tread down my own offences, hack To service at the footstool ! That 's read wrong : I cry as the beast did, that I may cry — Expansive, not appealing ! Fallen so deep Against the sides of this prodigious pit, I cry — cry — dashing out the hands of wail, On each side, to meet anguish everywhere, And to attest it in the ecstasy And exultation of a woe sustained Because provoked and chosen." Lucifer's Curse, in Drama op Exile. — Mrs. Browning. Explosive Orotund. Explosive orotund is the language of intense passion : it is heard when the violence of emotion is beyond the control of the will, evidencing a sudden ecstasy of terror, anger, or any other form of overpowering excitement. Being heard only in the extremes, of abrupt emotion, it admits of no gradations. Examples. "Arm ! Arm ! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar ! " Childe Harold. — Byron. " Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead ! — Kun hence ! "proclaim, cry it about the streets ! " Cinna, in Julius C^sar. ** Some to the common pulpits ! and cry out Liberty, freedom,and enfranchisement!" — Cassius. — Ibid. " Up ! comrades up ! — in Rokeby's halls Ne'er be it said our courage falls ! " — Rokery. — Scott. "Now Spirits of the Brave, who roam Enfranchised through yon starry dome, Kejoice — for souls of kindred fire Are on the wing to join your choir! " The Gheber's Bloody Glen. — 100 ELOCUTION. " I tore them from their bonds ; and cried aloud, that these hands could so redeem my son, As they have given these hairs their liberty / " Constance, in King John. "I am not .mad — I would to heaven I were! For then 'tis like I should forget myself; 0, if I could, what grief should I forget! " — Ibid. "Alas, what need you be so "boisterous-rough? 1 will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ; Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away. And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. Nor look upon the iron aqgerly : Thrust but these men away, and I '11 forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to." Arthur, in King John. "An hour passed on — the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last; He woke — to hear his sentries 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 : 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 ! " Marco Bozzaris. — Fitz Greene Halleck. TONES. — ASPIEATION. 101 ASPISATIOF. Aspiration is used in tlie absence of vocal sound ; it is an expulsion of the breath, more or less strong, the words being spoken in a whisper. It may be applied to syllables of every variety of time, to all modes of stress, and to all intervals of intonation. Its use is to unite with the other functions of the voice, to give increased intensity to the utterance of the various emotions. It gives an air of mys- tery ; it expresses excessive earnestness, contempt, scorn, rage, wonder, incomprehensibility. In connection with the semitone, it gives intensity to the plaintiveness of dis- tress ; and when the tremulous movement is superadded to the aspirated semitone, it will mark the deepest shade of sadness and grief within the limits of crying. Examples. "The red rose cries, ' She is near, she is near ; ' And the white rose weeps, ' She is late ; ' The larkspur listens, ' I hear, I hear ; ' And the lily whispers, ' I wait.' " Garden Song, in Maud. — Tennyson. "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! "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 ; 9* 102 ELOCUTION. And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng' d the citizen with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips, — ' The foe ! They come ! they come! ' " Childe Harold. — Byron. <* Oh ! horror ! horror ! horror ! — Tongue nor heart, Cannot conceive, nor name thee ! . . . Confusion now hath made his masterpiece ! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life of the building. . . . Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon ! " — Macduff, in Macbeth. "Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked, or charitable. Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee ; I '11 call thee, Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane : 0, answer me : Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell. Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws. To cast thee up again ! What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon. Making night hideous : and we fools of nature. So horribly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? " Hamlet to Ghost. GUTTURAL QUALITY. The Guttural is a deep under-tone used to express hatred^ contempt, and concentrated malignity or loathing. TONES. — GUTTUEAL QUALITY. 103 Examples. "War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. Lymoges ! Austria ! thou dost shame That bloody spoil : Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward : Thou little valiant, great in villany ! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety ! " — Constance, in King John. " I '11 have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 1 '11 have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. I '11 not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; I'll have no speaking; I will have my bond." Shylock, in The Merchant of Venice. ** Gone to be married ! Gone to swear a peace ! False blood to false blood joined ! Gone to be friends ! Shall Lewis have Blanche ? and Blanche these provinces ? It is not so ; thou hast misspoke, misheard ; Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again : It cannot be; thou dost but say, 'tis so." Constance, in King John. " How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him, for he is a Christian ; But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usuance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On. me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest : Curst be my tribe. If I forgive him! " — Shylock, in Merchant of Venice. "Be then his love accursed, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe; Nay, cursed be thou, since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. 104 ELOOUTIOI>r. Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is Hell ; myself am Hell ; And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven." Satan, in Paradise Lost. *< < Traitor ! ' I go — but I return. This — trial ! Here I devote your senate ! I 've had wrongs, To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. This day 's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's work Will breed proscriptions : — Look to your hearths, my lords ! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for Jiousehold^ods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ! Wan Treachery, Avith his thirsty dagger drawn ; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; Till Anarchy come down on you like Night And Massacre seal Rome's eternal grave ! " Catiline to the Se?iaie. — Crolt. THE FALSETTO. The Falsetto is that peculiar tone, heard in the higher degrees of pitch, after the natural voice breaks, or apparently outruns its power. It is used in the emphatic scream of terror or pain; in the expression of extreme surprise, mockery f &c. Examples. '< He said he would not ransom Mortimer ; Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; But I will find him when he lies asleep. And in his ear I '11 holla — ' Mortimer ! ' Nay, I '11 have' a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but < Mortimer,' and give it him. To keep his anger still in motion." Hotspur, in Henky Fottrth. TONES.— THE FALSETTO. 105 " Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto you have rated me About my money and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug : For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears you need my help : Go to then : you come to me, and you say, Shylock, we would have monies ; You say so -^ You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. What should I say to you ? Should I not say, Hath a dog money 2 is it possible, A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath, and whispering humbleness, Say this, — Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last : You spurn'd me such a day : another time You called me dog : and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much monies." Shylock, in Merchant of Venice. •' upright judge ! — Mark, Jew ; — learned judge ! " Gratiano, in Ibid. <* A Daniel, still say I ; a second Daniel ! — I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word." — Ibid. *' 'Ah ! ' she said, ' the eyes of Pauguk Glare upon me in the darkness, I can feel his icy fingers Clasping mine amid the darkness ! Hiawatha ! Hiawatha ! ' And the desolate Hiawatha, Far away amid the forest, Miles away among the mountains, Heard that sudden cry of anguish, Heard the voice of Minnehaha Calling to him in the darkness, ' Hiawatha ! Hiawatha ! ' " — Longfellow. 106 ELOCUTION. TREMOE. The Tremor or Trembling Tone consists of a tremulous iteration, or a number of impulses of sound of the least assignable duration. It is used in excessive grief, pity, plaintiveness ; in ^n intense degree of suppressed excite- ment, or satisfaction ; and when the voice is enfeebled by age. "The Tremor is made subservient to all kinds of passion,- for there is scarce a passion, whether of joy, grief, or exultation, — there is scarce even a sentiment, whether of tenderness or supplication, contempt, indignant scorn, or any other connatural state of feeling. — to which this function of the voice does not at times add a much higher degree of impressivenesa than could be effected solely by the concrete movement." — Tower. Examples. "Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers. And the silent isle embowers The Lady of Shalott." — Tennyson. "Weep, my ^schylus. But low and far, upon Sicilian shores ! For since 't was Athens (so I read the myth) Who gave commission to that fatal weight, The tortoise, cold and hard, to drop on thee And crush thee, — better cover thy bald head ; She '11 hear the forest hum of Hyblan bee Before thy loud'st protesting." AuROBA Leigh, ^ — Mrs. Browning. "St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hair limped trembling through the frozen grass. And silent was the flock in woolly fold : Numb were the Beadsmans' fingers, while he told ILLUSTKATIONS. — TKEMOR. 107 His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayers he saith." The Eve of St. Agnes. — Keats. "Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise From hill or streaming lake, dusty or grey, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise, Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs, Kising or falling still advance his 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 you flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices all ye living Souls; ye Birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend. Bear on your wings and in your note his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep, Witness if I be silent, morn or e'en. To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail Universal Lord, be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gather' d aught of evil, or conceal'd. Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark." Paradise Lost. " Life ! we 've been long together. Through pleasant and through cloudy weather : 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear ; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time, Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good morning." Life. — Mrs. Barbauld. *' Only waiting till the shadows Are a little longer grown ; 108 ELOCUTION". Only waiting, till the glimmer Of the day's last beam is flown. Then, from out the gathered darkness, Holy, deathless stars shall rise. By whose light my soul shall gladly Tread its pathway to the skies." Only "Waiting. MODULATION, Continued. Every tone may have its chief characteristics classed under the three following heads : Force, Pitch, and Rate. First. Force, which regards the impulse of sound, and character- izes a tone as loud, faint, or moderate in utterance. Second. Pitch, which regards the strain of the voice in which words are uttered as on high, low, or middle notes of the musical scale. . Third. Rate, which regards the utterance or the articulation, as rapid, slow, or moderate. Forcible and loud tones belong to the following and similar /omSZe feelings and emotions : joy, courage, admiration, when strongly ex- pressive, — anger, indignation, revenge, terror. Gentle, soft, or u-eak tones characterize /ea?-, when not excessive, — pit7j, love, admiration, in its moderate expression, — tenderness, grief, and sorrow, when not excessive, — all of which imply comparative feebleness of feeling. Fear and grief, in excess, becomes loud. Loio notes, as naturally coinciding with deep feeling, are the ap- propriate expression of awe, stiblimitg, reverence, amazement, indigna- tion, anger, when grave and deep, — horror. High notes belong to th.e extremes of joy and of grief ; they char- acterize the tone of terror; they prevail, also, in pathetic and tender expression. They occur sometimes in violent anger and in scorn. Slowness characterizes the tones of grave and sedate feeling, — awe, sublimity, solemnity, reverence, pity, admiration, and grief, when deep and subdued, rather than violent. Rapidity marks the tones of excited and agitated feeling, — anger, eagerness, hurry, confusion, fear, terror, joy, and sometimes grief, when strongly expressed. Moderate emotions, or tranquil states of mind are distinguished by a moderate force, the medium pitch, and a moderate rate. From Prof. Russell's observations on modulation, we glean the following : No gravity of tone, or intensity of utterance, or precision of enuncia- tion, can atone for the absence of that natural change of the voice by MODULATIOK. 109 which the ear is enabled to receive and recognize the tones of the various emotions accompanying the train of thought which the speaker is express- ing. These, and these only, can indicate his own sense of what he uttecs, or communicate it by sympathy to his audience. The adaptation of voice to the exj^ression of sentiment, is not less important when considered in reference to meaning as dependent on distinctions strictly intellectual, or not implying a vivid or varied succession of emotions. The correct and adequate representation of continuous or successive thought, requires its appi'opriate intonation, as may be observed in those tones of the voice which naturally accompany discussions and argument, even in their most moderate forms. The modulation or varying of tone, is important also as a matter of cultivated taste j it is the appropriate grace of vocal expres- sion. It has a charm founded in the constitution of our nature; it touches the finest and deepest sensibilities of the soul ; it constitutes the spirit and eloquence of the human voice, whether regarded as the noblest instru- ment of music, or the appropriate channel of thought and feeling. The pitch of the voice which may be referred to most conven- iently as a standard, is that of animated conversation. The average force of the voice may be taken as that which is sufficient for appropri- ate and intelligible utterance. The middle or common rate of articula- tion is that which prevails in moderate emotion. Variation, then, is to be understood as any departure from one or all of these, towards either extreme of utterance, whether loud or faint, high or low, fast or slow, — or as a transition or passing from one extreme to another of one or more of these qualities. Strong emotion will require marked, and great, and sometimes, sudden changes ; wMlst in moderate emotion, the changes will be slight and gradual. The common faults in single tones are, First : — A mechanical, unmeaning sameness of voice, which indicates the absence of appropriate feeling, and deprives spoken language of its natural expression. Second: — A want of force and vividness in tone, though otherwise appropriate, — a fault which renders delivery feeble, uninteresting, and unimpressive. Third : — An excessive force of tone, usually attended by a mouth- ing or a drawling manner, — a style utterly repugnant to correct taste, and subversive of the genuine expression of emotion. Fourth: — An habitual and personal tone, which characterizes the individual speaker merely, and is not the appropriate expression of feeling, but rather interferes with and prevents it. The first two of these faults would be avoided by entering deeply and fully into the sentiment which is expressed in the language read or spoken. This can be done only by giving to it that earnest and steadfast attention which is required to produce interest and sympathy in the mind, — the true source of appropriate and natural tones. 10 110 ELOCUTION. The third error arises from the habit of allowing the attention to float on the stream of language, instead of directing it to the thoughts expressed in what is read. The harmonious succession of the words, and not the force or beauty of the ideas, becomes involuntarily the object w^hich occupies the mind; and hence arises a measured and rhythmical flow of tone, adapted to clauses and sen- tences according to their sound, rather than to their sense. The fault is usually exemplified in the recitation of poetry. This habit would be overcome by directing the attention to the thought as exclusively as possible, — not suffering the mind to linger upon the phraseology, but endeavoring to attune the ear to a style of utter- ance flowing from the energy and harmony of the ideas. The fourth class of errors being as various as the habits of dif- ferent persons, cannot be specifically described. They are neces- sarily points of attention between teachers and pupils individually. The bad consequences of these faults are obvious. By monotony in reading, we lose almost as much as we should by pronouncing in conver- jsation every word in the same key. The voice becomes insipid and child- ish in its tone; meaning is entirely extracted from it; sense is sacrificed to timidity or awkwardness of habit, and the mental power of utterance is exchanged for a dull and lifeless uniformity or organic exercise, — un- worthy of a human being, and resembling rather the reiterated sound of a machine. Rhetorical aflFectation, on the other hand, is disgusting in its effect; it obscures or changes meaning by ill-judged and unnecessary variations of voice; it obtrudes the speaker to the exclusion of his subject, and substi- tutes a ridiculous parade of art for the simple eloquence of nature. Early practice in modulation is of the utmost importance, as the foun- dation of good habit: and this department of elocution instead of being deferred till late in the course, should be introduced as early as possible, and cultivated with the utmost attention. The first object of attention in practising in this department of elocution, should be to eradicate faulty and personal tones, as in- fluenced by habits of utterance, articulation, emphasis, or cadence. The imitation of incorrect tones may sometimes be necessary, to give the learner a distinct conception of the fault to be overcome. The next point is to succeed in producing force and appropriate- ness in tone, and facility in variation. One expedient for this purpose is by frequent illustrations and repetitions to impress on the reader's mind, the difi'erence between true and false tones of voice, — those of dignified conversation, and those of familiar talk, or of mechanical and monotonous reading. Another means of rec- tifying errors of this class, is, by interesting conversation and illustrative anecdote, to bring the learner's mind into the right mood of emotion, for the full expression of the sentiment. The pupil's own attentive study of the meaning of what he reads, MODULATION. Ill is, however, the best security for natural force and variation ol tone. Little improvement can be made in intonation, till the learner has acquired the power of abstracting his attention from a mechanical enunciation of the words he is reading, and can fix his mind with such force on the thoughts as to make them his own. The teacher may, by the proper selection of exercises in reading, do much to favor the acquisition of easy and natural tones of voice, care being taken that for young readers nothing is chosen which is above their compre- hension, or not adapted to their taste. Monotonous dulness and forced variety of tone, are equally caused by promiscuous and inappropriate reading. Where the mind has not the command of thought and feeling, it will naturally flow into a mechanical attention to words ; and in read- ing or speaking, the tones of the voice, (as they are always a true echo to the actual state of feeling,) will indicate the fact by formal and unmean- ing ntterance. "'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear; 'Tis modulation that must charm the ear. When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone, The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes Can only make the yawning hearers doze. The voice all modes of passion can express, That marks the proper word with proper stress. But none emphatic can that actor call, Who lays an equal emphasis on all. Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll, Slow and deliberate as the parting toll : Point every stop, mark every pause so strong, Their words, like stage processions, stalk along. All affectation but creates disgust. And e'en in speaking we may seem too just. In vain for them the pleasing measure flows, Whose recitation runs it all to prose ; Repeating what the poet sets not down. The verb disjoining from its friendly noun, While pause, and break, and repetition join To make a discord in each tuneful line. Some placid natures fill the allotted scene With lifeless drone, insipid, and serene ; While others thunder every couplet o'er. And almost crack your ears with rant and roar. More nature oft, and finer strokes are shown In the low whisper, than tempestuous tone; And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze More powerful terror to the mind conveys. Than he who, swollen with big, impetuous rage, Bullies the biilky phantom off' the stage. He who in earnest studies o'er his part Will find true nature cling about his heart. The modes of grief are not included all In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl; A single look more marks the internal woe Than all the windings of the lengthened 0! Up to the face the quick sensation flies, 112 ELOCUTION. And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes : Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, And all the passions, all the soul, is there." — Lloyd. " 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. 0, 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 groundlin'gs; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you avoid it. "Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action : with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for anything 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 and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now this, overdone, or come tifrdy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve. ... 0, there be players, that I have seen play, — and heard others praise, and that highly, — not to speak it profanel}', that, neither having the accent of christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably." — Hamlet's Instruction to the Players. SELECTIONS. — PUBE TONE. 113 SELECTIONS. POETICAL ILLUSTEATIONS OF PURE TONE. LOVE, HOPE, AND PATIENCE IN EDUCATION. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, O'er wayward diildhood would'st thou hold firm rule, And sun thee in the light of happy faces ; Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces, And in thine own heart, let them first keep school. For as old Atlas on his broad neck places Heaven's starry globe, and there Sustains it, — so Do these upbear the little world below Of Education, — Patience, Love, and Hope. Methinks I see them group'd in seemly show, The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope, And robes that, touching as adown they flow, Distinctly blend, like snow emboss'd in snow. part theni never ! If Hope prostrate lie, Love too will sink and die. But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive From her own life that Hope is yet alive ; And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes, And the soft murmur of the mother dove, Woos back the fleeting spirit, and half supplies ; — Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to Love. Yet haply there will come a weary day. When overtask'd at length Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way. Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, Stands the mute sister. Patience, nothing loth, And both supporting, does the work of both. CRANMER'S PROPHECY. From "Henry Eighth." Let me speak, sir. For heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they '11 find them truth. This royal infant, (heaven still move about her !) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, 10* H 114 ELOCUTION". Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness,) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed : Sheba was never More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue, Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces, That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, With all the virtues that attend the good. Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her : She shall be lov'd and fear'd : Her oAvn shall bless her : Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn. And hang their heads with sorrow : Good grows with her: In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine, what he plants ; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbors : God shall be truly known ; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honor, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. Nor shall this peace sleep with her : But as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix. Her ashes new-create another heir. As great in admiration as herself ; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Who from the sacred ashes of her honor. Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was. And so stand fix'd : peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant. Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honor, and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him : — Our children's children Shall see this, afid bless heaven She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess ; many days shall see her. And yet no day without a deed to crown it. Would I had known no more ! but she must die, Sh^^ust, the saints must have her ; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her." SELECTIONS. — PUKE TONE. 115 THIS WORLD IS FULL OF BEAUTY. Gerald Masaey. There lives a voice within me, a guest-angel of my heart, And its sweet lispings win me, till the tears a-trembling start; Up evermore it springeth, like some magic melody, And evermore it singeth this sweet song of songs to me — This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above ; And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. Night's starry tendernesses dower with glory evermore, Morn's budding, bright, melodious hour comes sweetly as of yore ; But there be million hearts accurst, where no sweet sun-bursts shine, And there be million hearts athirst for Love's immortal wine. This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above ; And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. If faith, and hope, and kindness pass'd, as coin, 'twixt heart and heart, How, thro' the eye's tear-blindness, should the sudden soul upstart! The dreary, dim, and desolate, should wear a sunny bloom, And Love should spring from buried Hate, like flowers o'er Winter's tomb. This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above ; And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. With truth our uttered language, Angels might talk with men, And God-illumined earth should see the golden Age again : The burthen'd heart should soar in mirth like Morn's young prophet lark. And Misery's last tear wept on earth, quench Hell's last cunning spark. For this world is full of beauty, as other worlds above ; And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. Lo ! plenty ripens round us, yet awakes the cry for bread, The millions still are toiling, crusht, and clad in rags, unfed! While sunny hills and valleys richly blush with fruit and grain, But the paupers in the pala.ce rob their toiling fellow-men. This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above; And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. Dear God ! what hosts are trampled 'mid this killing crush for gold ! What noble hearts. are sapp'd of love! what spirits lose life's hold ! 116 ELOCUTION. Yet a merry world it might be, opulent for all, and aye, With its lands that ask for labour, and its. wealth that wastes away. This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above | And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. The leaf-tongues of the forest, and the flow'r-lips of the sod — The happy Birds that hymn their raptures in the ear of God — The summer wind that bringeth music over land and sea, Have each a voice that singeth this sweet song of songs to me — This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above ; And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love. PROSE ILLUSTRATIONS OF EFFUSIVE OROTUND QUALITY. ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURa. Abraham Lincoln. Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we. are en- gaged in a great civil war, tesl3.ng whether that nation — or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated — can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We are met to dedicate a portion of it as the final resting-place of those who have given their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our power to add or to detract. The world will very little note, nor long remember, what we say here ; but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated, here, to the un- finished work that they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining be- fore us: that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of de- votion ; that we here highly nesolve that these dead shall not have died in vain : that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that. government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. SELECTIONS. — OROTUND QUALITY. 117 ■ EXTRACT FROM THE SECOND INAUGURAL. Ibid. Both parties deprecated war : but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish: and the war came. One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not dis- tributed generally over the Union, but located in the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union by war, while govern- ment claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God, and each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange that any man should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing his bread from the sweat of other men's faces. But let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayer of both should not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes. '' Woe unto the world because of offences, for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of these offences, which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through his appointed time, he now wills to remove, and that he gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him ? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass- away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must he said that the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in 118 ELOCUTION. the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish '.he work vi^e" are in, to bind up the nation's wound, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and orphans, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. THE SHEPHERD OP THE PEOPLE. From " 71i€ Life and Death of Abraham Lincoln.'* So let him lie here in our midst to-day, and let our people go and bend with solemn thoughtfulness and look upon his face and read the lessons of his burial. As he paused here on his journey from his Western home and told us what by the help of God he meant to do, so let him pause upon his way back to his Western grave and tell us, with a silence more eloquent than words, how bravely, how truly by the strength of God he did it. God brought him up as he brought David up from the sheepfolds to feed Jacob his people, and Israel his inheritance. He came up in earnestness and faith, and he goes back in triumph. As he pauses here to-day, and from his cold lips bids us bear witness how he has met the duty that was laid on him, what can we say out of our full hearts but this — "He fed them with a faithful and true heart, and ruled them prudently with all his power." The Shepherd of the People! that old name that the best rulers ever craved. What ruler ever won it like this dead President of ours ? He fed us faithfully and truly. He fed us with counsel when we were in doubt, with inspiration when we sometimes faltered, with caution when we would be rash, with calm, clear, trustful cheerfulness through many an hour when our hearts were dark. He fed hungry souls all over the country with sym- pathy and consolation. He spread before the whole land feasts of great duty and devotion and patriotism on which the land grew strong. He fed us with solemn, solid truths. He taught us the sacredness of government, the wickedness of treason. He made our souls glad and vigorous with the love of Liberty that was in his. He showed us how to love truth and yet be charitable — how to hate wrong and all oppression, and yet not treasure one personal injury or insult. He fed all his people from the highest to the lowest, from the most privileged down to the most enslaved. Best of all, he fed us with a reverent and genuine religion. He spread before us the love and fear of God just in that shape in which we need them most, and out of his faithful service of a higher Master who of us has not taken and eaten and grown strong. " He fed them with a faithful and true heart." Yes, till the last. For at the SELECTIONS. — OROTUND QUALITY. 119 last, behold Mm standing with hand reached out to feed the South with Mercy and the North with Charity, and the whole land with Peace, when the Lord who had sent him called him and his work was done. EXTRACT. Charles Sumner. Mourn not the dead, but rejoice in his life and example. Rejoice as you point to this child of the people, who was lifted so high that republican institutions became manifest in him! Rejoice that through him Emancipation was proclaimed ! Above all, see to it that his constant vows are fulfilled, and that the promises of the Fathers are maintained, so that no person in the upright form of man can be shut out from their protection. Then will the unity of the republic be fixed on a foundation that cannot fail, and other nations will enjoy its security. The corner-stone of National Inde- pendence is already in its place, and on it is inscribed the name of George Washington. There is another stone which must have its place at the corner also. This is the Declaration of Independence with all its promises fulfilled. On this stone we will gratefully inscribe the name of Abraham Lincoln. EXTRACT FROM "ALTON LOCKE." Charles Kingsley. And he was gone at last ! Kind women, whom his unknown charities had saved from shame, laid him out duly, and closed his eyes, and bound up that face that never would beam again with genial humor, those lips that would never again speak courage and counsel to the sinful, the oppressed, the forgotten. And there he lay, the old warrior dead upon his shield ; worn out by long years ^ of manful toil in The People's Cause ; and, saddest thought of all, by disappointment in those for whom he spent his soul. True, he was aged ; no one knew how old. He had said, more than eighty years ; but we had shortened his life and we knew it. He would never see that deliverance for which he had been toiling ever since the days when as a boy he had listened to Tooke and Cartwright, and the patriarchs of the people's freedom. Bitter, bitter, were our thoughts, and bitter were our tears, as Crossthwaite and I stood watching that beloved face, now in death refined to a grandeur, to a youthful simplicity and delicacy, which we had never seen on it before — calm and strong — the square jaws set firm even in death — the lower lip still clenched above the upper, as if in a divine indig- nation and everlasting protest, even in the grave, against the de- vourers of the earth. Yes, he was gone — the old lion, worn out 120 ELOCUTION. with many wounds, dead in Ms cage. Where could we replace him? There were gallant men among us, eloquent, well-read, earnest — men whose names will ring through this land ere long — men who had been taught wisdom, even as he, by the sinfulness, the apathy, the ingratitude, as well as by the sufferings of iheir fellows. But where should we two find again the learning, the moderation, the loug experience, above all the more than woman's tenderness of him whom we had lost? And at that time, too, of all others! Alas! we had despised his counsel ; wayward and fierce, we would have none of his reproof; and now God had withdrawn him from us; the righteous was taken away from the evil to come. For we kncAv that evil was coming. We felt all along that we should not succeed. But we were desperate ; and his death made us more desperate ; still at the moment it drew us nearer to each other. Yes — we were rud- derless upon a roaring sea, and all before us blank with lurid blinding mist ; but still we were together, to live and die ; and as we looked into each other's eyes, and clasped each other's hands above the dead man's face, we felt that there was love between us, as of Jonathan and David, passing the love of woman. Few words passed. Even our passionate artisan-nature, so sensitive and voluble in general, in comparison with the cold re- serve of the field-laborer and the gentleman, was hushed in silent awe between the thought of the past and the thought of the future. We felt ourselves trembling between two worlds. We felt that to- morrow must decide our destiny — and we felt rightly, though little we guessed what that destiny would be ! EXTRACT FROM " THE POTIPHAR PAPERS." Geo. William Curtis. These elegant Pendennises we saw at Mrs. Potiphar's, but not without a sadness which can hardly be explained. They had been boys once, all of them, fresh and frank-hearted, and full of a noble ambition. They had read and pondered the histories of great men ; how they resolved, and struggled, and achieved. In the pure por- traiture of genius, they had loved and honoured noble women, and each young heart was sworn to truth and the service of beauty. Those feelings were chivalrous and fair. Those boyish instincts clung to whatever was lovely, and rejected the specious snare, how- ever graceful and elegant. They sailed, new knights, upon the old and endless crusade against hypocrisy and the devil, and they were lost in the luxury of Corinth, nor longer seek the difficult shores beyond. A present smile was worth a future laurel. The ease of SELECTIONS. — OEOTUND QUALITY. 121 the moment was wortli immortal tranquillity. They renounced the stern worship of the unknown God, and acknowledged the deities of Athens. But the seal of their shame is their own smile at their early dreams, and the high hopes of their boyhood, their sneering infidelity of simplicity, their skepticism of motives and of men. EXTRACT. Eev. F. W. Eohertson. It is an awful moment when the soul begins to find that the props on which it has blindly rested so long are, many of them, rotten, and begins to suspect them all; when it begins to feel the nothingness of many of the traditionary opinions which have been received with implicit confidence, and in that horrible insecurity begins also to doubt whether there be anything to believe at all. It is an awful hour, — let him who has passed through it say how awful, — when this life has lost its meaning, and seems shrivelled into a span ; when the grave appears to be the end of all, human goodness nothing but a name ; and the sky above this universe a dead expanse, black with the void from which God himself has dis- appeared. In that fearful loneliness of spirit, when those who should have been his friends and counsellors only frown upon his misgivings, and profanely bid him stifle doubts, which for aught he knows may arise from the fountain of truth itself; to extinguish^ as a glare from hell, that which for aught he knows may be light from heaven, — and everything seems wrapped in hideous uncertainty, I know but one way in which a man may come forth from his agony scatheless ; it is by holding fast to those things which are certain still, — the grand, simple landmarks of morality. In the darkest hour through which a human soul can pass, whatever else is doubt- ful, this at least is certain. If there be no God, and no future state, yet even then, it is better to be generous than selfish, better to be chaste than licentious, better to be true than false, better to be brave than to be a coward. Blessed beyond all earthly blessedness is the man who, in the tempestuous darkness of the soul, has dared to hold fast to these venerable landmarks. Thrice blessed is he who, — when all is drear and cheerless within and without, when his teachers terrify him, and his friends shrink from him, — has obsti- nately clung to moral good. Thrice blessed, because Ms night shall pass into clear, bright day. I appeal to the recollection of any man who has passed through that hour of agony, and stood upon the rock at last, the surges stilled below him, and the last cloud drifted from the sky above, 11 122 ELOCUTION. with a faith, and hope, ana trust no longer traditional, but of his own, — a trust which neither earth nor hell shall shake thenceforth forever. POETICAL ILLUSTEATIONS OF OROTUND QTJALITY. THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Do ye hear the children weeping, my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years ? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, — And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows : The young birds are chirping in the nest ; The young fawns are playing with the shadows ; The young flowers are blowing toward the west — But the young, young children, my brothers, They are weeping bitterly 1 — They are weeping in the play-time of the others. In the country of the free. Do you question the young children in the sorrow, Why their tears are falling so ? — The old man may-weep for his to-morrow Which is lost in Long Ago — The old tree is leafless in the forest — The old year is ending in the frost — The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest — The old hope is hardest to be lost: But the young, young children, my brothers, Do you ask them why they stand Weeping sore before the bosom of their mothers, In our happy Fatherland? They look up with their pale and sunken faces, And their looks are sad to see. For the man's grief abhorrent, draws and presses Down the cheeks of infancy — *< Your old earth," they say, "is very dreary ; " *'Our young feet," they say, "are very weak! Few paces have we taken, yet are weary — Our grave rest is very far to seek ! SELECTIONS. — OROTUND QUALITY. 123 Ask the old why they weep, and not the children, For the outside earth is cold, — And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering, And the graves are for the old ! " "True," say the young children, "it may happen That we die before our time ! Little Alice died last year — the grave is shapen Like a snowball, in the rime. We looked into the pit prepared to take her — Was no room for any work, in the close clay : From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, Crying, 'Get up, little Alice ! it is day.' If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower, . With your ear down, little Alice never cries ! — Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, For the smile has time for growing in her eyes, — And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in The shroud, by the kirk-chime ! It is good when it happens," say the children, " That we die before our time ! " Alas, the wretched children ! they are seeking . Death in life, as best to have ! They are binding up their hearts away from breaking. With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city — Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do — Pluck you handfuls of the meadow-cowslips pretty — Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through. But they answer, "Are your cowslips of the meadows Like our weeds anear the mine 1 Leave us quiet in the dark, of the cold shadows. From your pleasures fair and fine ! **For oh," say the children, "we are weary, And we cannot run or leap — If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping — We fall upon our faces, trying to go ; And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. 124 ELOCUTION. For, all day, we drag our burden tiring, Through the coal-dark, underground — Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round. 'For, all day, the wheels are droning, turning, — Their wind comes in our faces, — Till our hearts turn, — our heads, with pulses burning, And the walls turn in their places — Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling — Turns the long light that droppeth down the wall — Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling — All are turning, all the day, and we with all ! — And all day the iron wheels are droning ; And sometimes we could pray, '0 ye wheels,' (breaking out in a mad moaning,) — ' Stop ! be silent for to-day ! ' " Ay ! be silent ! Let them hear each other breathing For a moment, mouth to mouth — Let them touch each other's hands, in a fresh wreathing Of their tender human youth ! Let them feel that this cold metallic motion Is not all the life God fashions or reveals — Let them prove their inward souls against the notion That they live in you, or under you, wheels ! — Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward, As if Fate in each were stark; And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward, Spin on blindly in the dark. Now tell the poor young children, my brothers. That they look to Him and pray — So the blessed One, who blesseth all the others, Will bless them another day. They answer, "Who is God that He should hear us, While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred ? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word ! And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding) Strangers speaking at the door : Is it likely God, with angels singing round Him, Hears our weeping any more ? SELECTIONS. — OROTUND QUALITY. 125 ** Two words, indeed, of praying, we remember ; And at midnight's hour of harm, — *Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm. We know no other words, except 'Our Father,' And we think that, in some pause of angels' song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather, And hold both within His right hand which is strong < Our Father ! ' If He heard us. He would surely (For they call him good and mild) Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely, 'Come and rest with me, my child,' <* But, no ! " say the children, weeping faster, " He is speechless as a stone ; And they tell us, of His image is the master Who commands us to work on. Go to ! " say the children, — " Up in Heaven, Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find ! Do not mock us ; grief has left us unbelieving, — We look up for God, but tears have made us blind.'" Do you hear the children weeping and disproving, my brothers, what you teach ? For God's possible is taught by His world's loving — And the children doubt of each. And well may the children weep before you ; They are weary ere they rnn ; They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun : They know the grief of men, but not the wisdom, Are bitter with despairing, but not calm — Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom, — Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm, — Are worn as if with age, yet unretrievingly No dear remembrance keep, — Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly : Let them weep ! let them weep ! They look up, with their pale and sunken faces, And their look is dread to see. For you think you see their angels in their places, With eyes meant for Deity ; — 11* 126 ELOCUTION-. <'How long," they say, "how long, cruel nation, Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart, — Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation, And tread onward to your throne amid the mart ? Our blood splashes upwards, our tyrants, And your purple shows your path ; But the child's sob curseth deeper in the silence Than the strong man in his wrath ! " THE SONG OF THE SHIRT. Thomas Hood. With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt. And still with a voice of dolorous pitch She sang the "Song of the Shirt! " " Work ! work ! work ! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work — work — work, Till the stars shine through the roof! It's Oh! to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save If this Is Christian work ! "Work — work — work Till the brain begins to swim ; Work — work — work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam. Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream ! " Oh, men, with sisters dear ! Oh, men, with mothers and wives ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures', lives ! Stitch — stitch — stitch, In poverty, Jiunger, and dirt SELECTIONS. — OEOTUND QUALITY. 127 Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt. "But why do I talk of Death? That phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own. Because of the fasts I keep ; Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap ! ** Work — work — work ! My labor never flags; And what are its wages ? A bed of straw, A crust of bread — and rags. That shatter'd roof — and this naked floor — A table — a broken chair — And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there ! ' ' Work — work — work ! From weary chime to chime. Work — work — work — As prisoners work for crime ! Band, and gusset, and seam. Seam, and gusset, and band. Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd, As well as the weary hand. "Work — work — work, In the dull December light. And work — work — work. When the weather is warm and bright — While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling. As if to show me their sunny backs And twit me with the spring. "Oh J but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet — With the sky above my head, And the grass beneath my feet, For only one short hour 128 ELOCUTION. To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal ! "Oh! but for one short hour! A respite however brief! No blessed leisure for Love or Hope, But only time for Grief ! A little weeping would ease my heart, But in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread ! " With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, . A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt!" DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. Alexander Pope. Vital spark of heavenly flame, Quit, oh quit this mortal frame ; Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying — Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying ! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. Hark ! they whisper ; angels say. Sister spirit, come away ! What is this absorbs me quite ? Steals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? Tell me, my soul, can this be death? The world recedes ; it disappears ! Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears With sounds seraphic ring : Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! grave ! where is thy victory ? death ! where is thy sting ? SELECTIONS. — OROTUND QUALITY. 129 EXTEACT FROM "A EHAPSODT GF LIFE'S PROGRESS." Mrs. Browning. Help me, God — lielp me, man ! I am low, I am weak — Death loosens my sinews and creeps in my veins ; My body is cleft by these wedges of pains, From my spirit's serene ; And I feel the externe and insensate creep in On my organized clay. I sob not, nor shriek, Yet I faint fast away ! I am strong in the spirit, — deep-thoughted, clear-eyed, — I could walk, step for step, with an angel beside, On the Heaven-heights of Truth ! — Oh! the soul keeps its youth — But the body faints sore, it is tired in the race, — It sinks from the chariot ere reaching the goal ; It is weak, it is cold. The rein drops from its hold — ' It sinks back with the death in its face ! On, chariot, — on, soul, — Ye are all the more fleet — Be alone at the goal Of the strange and the sweet ! Love us, God ! — love us, man ! We believe, we achieve — Let us love, let us live, For the acts correspond — "We are glorious — and die ! And again on the knee of a mild Mystery That smiles with a change, Here we lie ! Death, Beyond, Thou art sweet, thou art strange! COWPER'S GRAVE. Ibid. " I will invite thee, from thy envious herse To rise, and 'bout the world thy beams to spread, That we may see there 's brightness in the dead." — Hahington. It is a place where poets crowned May feel the heart's decaying — It is a place where happy saints May weep amid their praying — I 130 ELOCUTION. Yet let the grief and humbleness, As low as silence, languish ; Earth surely now may give her calm To whom she gave her anguish. poets ! from a maniac's tongue Was poured the deathless singing ! Christians ! at your cross of hope A hopeless hand was clinging ! men ! this man, in brotherhood, Your weary paths beguiling, Groaned inly while he taught you peace, And died while ye were smiling ! And now, Avhat time ye all may read Through dimming tears his story — How discord on the music fell, And darkness on the glory — And how, when one by one, sweet sounds And wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face, Because so broken-hearted — He shall be strong to sanctify The poet's high vocation, And bow the meekest Christian down In meeker adoration : Nor ever shall he be in praise. By wise or good forsaken ; Named softly, as the household name Of one whom God hath taken ! With sadness that is calm, not gloom, I learn to think upon him ; With meekness that is gratefulness, On God whose Heaven hath won him — Who suffered once the madness-cloud, Toward His love to blind him ; ■ But gently led the blind along Where breath and bird could find him; And wrought within his shattered brain, Such quick poetic senses, As hills have language for, and stars. Harmonious influences ! SELECTIONS. — OROTUND QUALITY. 131 The pulse of dew upon tlie grass, His own did calmly number ; And silent shadows from the trees Fell o'er him like a slumber. The very world by God's constraint, From falsehood's chill removing, Its women and its men became Beside him, true and loving ! — And timid hares were drawn from woods To share his home-caresses, UplooMng to his human eyes With sylvan tendernesses. But while, in blindness he remained Unconscious of the guiding, And things provided came without The sweet sense of providing. He testified this solemn truth, Though frenzy-desolated — Nor man, nor nature satisfy. Whom only God created! Like a sick child that knoweth not His mother while she blesses, And drops upon his burning brow The coolness of her kisses ; That turns his fevered eyes around — "My mother ! where 's my mother ? " — As if such tender words and looks Could come from any other ! The fever gone, with leaps of heart He sees her bending o'er him; • Her face all pale from watchful love, Th' unweary love she bore him ! Thus woke the poet from the dream His life's long fever gave him, Beneath those deep patheti-c eyes. Which closed in death, to save him ; Thus ! oh, not thus ! no type of earth Could image that awaking, Wherein he scarcely heard the chant Of seraphs, round him breaking — 132 ELOCUTION. • Or felt the new immortal throb Of soul from body parted ; But felt those eyes alone, and knew ^^My Saviour! not deserted! " Deserted ! who hath dreamt that when The cross in darkness rested, Upon the victim's hidden face No love was manifested ? What frantic hands outstretched have e'er Th' atoning drops averted — What tears have washed them from the soul — That one should be deserted ? Deserted! God could separate From His own essence rather : And Adam's sins have swept between The righteous Son and Father — Yea ! once, Immanuel's orphaned cry His universe hath shaken — It went up single, echoless, " My God, I am forsaken! " It went up from the Holy's lips Amid his lost creation. That of the lost, no son should use Those words of desolation ; That, earth's worst phrenzies, marring hope. Should mar not hope's fruition ; And I, on Cowper's grave, should see His rapture, in a vision ! THE WAITING. John G. WMttier, I wait and watch : before my eyes Methinks the night grows thin and gray; I wait and watch the eastern skies To see the golden spears uprise Beneath the oriflamme of day ! Like one whose limbs are bound in trance I hear the day sounds swell and grow, And see across the twilight glance. Troop after troop, in swift advance, The shining ones with plumes of snow! SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 133 I know the errand of their feet, I know what mighty work is theirs ; I can but lift up hands unmeet, The threshing-floors of God to beat, And speed them with unworthy prayers. I will not dream in vain despair The steps of progress wait for me ; The puny leverage of a hair The planet's impulse well may spare, A drop of dew the tided sea. The loss, if loss there be, is mine, And yet not mine if understood ; For one shall grasp and one resign, One drink life's rue, and one its wine, And God shall make the balance good. power to do! baffled will! prayer, and action! ye are one; Who may not strive, may yet fulfil The harder task of standing still. And good but wished with God is done ! ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE DIFFERENT QUALITIES OF TONE. TO A SKYLARK. Percy Bysshe Shelley. Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert. That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher. From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire ; The blue deep thou wingest. And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun. O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 12 134 ELOCUTION". The pale purple even Melts around thy flight; Like a star of heaven, In the broad daylight Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. Keen are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, or feel that it is there. All th-e earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare. From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see. As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought. Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heedeth not ; Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower : Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew. Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view : Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves. By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 135 Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers. All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. Chorus hymeneal. Or triumphant chaunt, Matched with thine would be all But an empty vaunt — A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. Waking or asleep, Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream, ' Or how could thy notes, flow in such a crystal stream? We look before and after, And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn . ■ Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever could come near. 136 ELOCUTION. Better than all measures Of delight and sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow. The world should listen then, as I am listening now. THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. " L'6ternit6 est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans cesse ces deux mots seulement, dans le silence des tombeaux : 'Toujours! jamais! Jamais ! toujoui's!*" — Jacques Bridaine. Somewhat back from the village street Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. Across its antique. portico Tall poplar trees their shadows throw. And from the station, in the hall An ancient timepiece says to all, — "Forever — never! Never — forever ! " Halfway up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak. Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — "Forever — never!" Never — forever ! " By day its voice is low and light ; But in the silent dead of night, Distinct as a passing footstep's fall. It echoes along the vacant hall. Along the ceiling, along the floor, And seems to say, at each chamber- door, — "Forever — never! Never — forever!" SELECTION'S. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 137 Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Through days of death and days of birth, Through every swift vicissitude Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, And as if, like God, it all things saw, It calmly repeats those words of awe, — ** Forever — never ! Never — forever!^' In that mansion used to be Free-hearted Hospitality ; His great fires up the chimney roared ; The stranger feasted at his board ; But, like the skeleton at the feast, That warning timepiece never ceased, — "Forever — never! Never — forever!" There groups of merry children played, There youths and maidens dreaming strayed ; precious hours ! golden prime, And afiluence of love and time ! Even as a miser counts his gold, Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — "Forever — never! Never — forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white. The bride came forth -on her wedding night. There, in that silent room below. The dead lay in his shroud of snow ; And in the hush that followed the prayer. Was heard the old clock on the stair, — "Forever — never! Never — forever ! " All are scattered now and fled. Some are married, some are dead ; And when I ask, with throbs of pain, **Ah! when shall they all meet again?" As in the days long-since gone "by. The ancient timepiece makes reply, — "Forever — never! Never — forevei I " 12^ 138 ELOCUTION". Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care. And death, and time shall disappear, Forever there, but never here ! The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever! " BUGLE SONG. From " The Princess."— Tennyson, The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story ; The long light shakes across the lakes. And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. hark, hear ! how thin and clearj And thinner, clearer, further going ; sweet and far, from cliff and scar, The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river : Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. THE DREAM OS EUGENE ARAM. Thomas Hood. 'T.was in the prime of summer time. An evening calm and cool, And four-and-twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school : There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool. Away they sped with gamesome minds, And souls untouch' d by sin; SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 139 To a level mead they came, and there They drave the wickets in : Pleasantly shown the setting sun Over the town of Lynn. Like sportive deer they coursed about, And shouted as they ran, — Turning to mirth all things of earth, As only boyhood can; But the Usher sat remote from all, A melancholy man ! His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze ; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease : So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees ! Leaf after leaf he turn'd it o'er. Nor ever glanced aside. For the peace of his soul he read that book In the golden eventide : Much study had made him very lean. And pale, and leaden-eyed. At last he shut the ponderous tome. With a fast and. fervent grasp He strain'd the dusky covers close. And fix'd the brazen hasp : *' Oh, God ! could I so close my mind, And clasp it with a clasp ! " Then leaping on his feet upright. Some moody turns he took,— Now up the mead, then down the mead, And past a shady nook, — And, lo ! he saw a little boy That pored upon a book ! *' My gentle lad, what is 't you read — Romance or fairy fable ? Or is it some historic page. Of kings and crowns unstable? " 140 ELOCUTION. The young hoy gave an upward glance, — '' It is ' The Death of Abel.'" The Usher took six hasty strides, As smit with sudden pain, — Six hasty strides beyond the place, Then slowly back again ; And down he sat beside the lad. And talk'd with him of Cain ; And, long since then, of bloody men Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folk cut off unseen. And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn. And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod, — Ay, how the ghostly hand will point To show the burial clod ; And unknown facts of guilty acts Are seen in dreams from God ; • He told how murderers walked the earth Beneath the curse of Cain, — With crimson clouds before their eyes. And flames about their brain: For blood has left upon their souls Its everlasting stain ! "And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth, Their pangs must be extreme, — Woe, woe, unutterable woe, — Who spill life's sacred stream 1 For why ? Methought, last night, I wrought A murder, in a dream ! " One that had never done me wrong — A feeble man and old ; I led him to a lonely field, — The moon shown clear and cold : 'Now here,' said I, 'this man shall die, And I will have his gold I ' SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 141 ** Two sudden blows with ragged stick, And one with a heavy stone, One hurried gash with a hasty knife, — And then the deed was done : There was nothing lying at my foot But lifeless flesh and bone! ** Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone, That could not do me ill ; And yet I fear'd him all the more, For lying there so still : There was a manhood in his look, That murder could not kill ! " And, lo ! the universal air Seem'd lit with ghastly flame ; — Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes Were looking down in blame : I took the dead man by his hand, And call'd upon his name ! **0, God ! it made me quake to seft Such sense within the slain ! But when I touch' d the lifeless clay, The blood gush'd out amain ! For every clot, a burning spot Was scorching in my brain ! <* My head was like an ardent coal. My heart as solid ice ; My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, Was at the Devil's price: A dozen times I groan'd ; the dead Had never groan'd but twice ! ** And now, from forth the frowning sky. From the Heaven's topmost height, I heard a voice — the awful voice Of the blood-avenging sprite : — 'Thou guilty man ! take up thy dead And hide it from my sight.!' **I took the dreary body up, And cast it in a stream, — 14:2 ELOCUTION". A sluggish water, black as ink, The depth was so extreme : — My gentle Boy, remember this Is nothing but a dream ! "Down went the corse with a hollow plunge, And vanish' d in the pool ; Anon I cleansed my bloody hands, And wash'd my forehead cool, And sat among the urchins young, That evening in the school. "Oh, Heaven! to think of their white souls, And mine so black and grim ! I could not share in childish prayer, Nor join in Evening Hymn : Like a Devil of the Pit I seem'd, 'Mid holy Cherubim ! "And peace went with them, one and all, And each calm pillow spread ; But Guilt was my grim Chamberlain That lighted me to bed ; And drew my midnight curtains round, With fingers bloody red ! "All night I. lay in agony, Li anguish dark and deep. My fever'd eyes I dared not close. But stared aghast at Sleep : For Sin had render'd unto her The keys of Hell to keep ! "All night I lay in agony. From weary chime to chime. With one besetting horrid hint, That rack'd me all the time ; A mighty yearning, like the first Fierce impulse unto crime ! . "One stern tyrannic thought, that made All other thoughts its slave ; Stronger and stronger every pulse Did that temptation crave, — SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. L43 Still urging me to go and see The Dead Man in his grave ! "Heavily I rose up, as soon As light vs^as in the sky, And sought the black accursed pool With a wild misgiving eye ; And I saw the Dead in the river bed, For the faithless stream was dry. "Merrily rose the lark, and shook The dew-drop from its wing ; But I never mark'd its morning flight, I never heard it sing : For I was stooping once again Under the horrid thing. "With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up and ran ; — There was no time to dig a grave Before the day began : In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, I hid the murder'd man ! ** And all that day I read in school. But my thought was other where ; As soon as the mid-day task was done. In secret I was there : And a mighty wind had swept the leaves. And still the corse was bare ! << Then down I cast me on my face And first began to weep. For I knew my secret then was one That earth refused to keep : Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep. '* So wills the fierce avenging Sprite, Till blood for blood atones ! ■^ Ay, though he 's buried in a cave, And trodden down with stones, • And years have rotted off his flesh The world shall see his bones ! 144 ELOCUTION. ♦' Oh, God ! that horrid, horrid dream Besets me now awake ! Again — again, with dizzy brain, The human life I take ; And my red right hand grows raging hot, Like Cranmer's at the stake. •* And still no peace for the restless clay, Will wave or mould allow ; The horrid thing pursues my soul, — It stands before me now!" The fearful Boy look'd up, and saw Huge drops upon his brow. That very night, while gentle sleep The urchin eyelids kiss'd. Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, Through the cold and heavy mist ; And Eugene Aram walk'd between, With gyves upon his wrist. A PSALM OF LIFE. Longfellow, Tell me not, in mournful numbers, ''Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers, ■ And things are not what they seem. Life is real! life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal ; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow. Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting. And our hearts, though stout and brave. Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 145 In the world's Ibroad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead. Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main,. A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing. With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. INVOCATION TO THE NEW YEAR. From "/n Memoriam." — Tennyson. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky. The flying cloud, the frosty light; The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new. Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor. Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; 13 K 146 ELOCUTION. Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithless coldness of the times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller minstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite ; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease. Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man and free. The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land. Ring in the Christ that is ta be. " POOR JO." From " Bleah House:'— Lichens. "Well, Jo ! What is the matter? Don't be frightened." <'I thought," says Jo, who has started and is looking round, "I thought I was in Tom- all- Alone' s agin. An't there nobody here but you, Mr.Woodcot?" "Nobody." "And I an't took back to Tom-all- Alone' s. Am I, sir?" "No." Jo closes his eyes, muttering, "I am wery thankful." After watching him closely a little while, Allan puts his mouth very near his ear, and says to him in a low, distinct voice: "Jo! Did you ever know a prayer?" "Never know'd nothink, sir." "Not so much as one short prayer?" "No, sir. Nothink at all. Mr. Chadbands he was a prayiu' wunst at Mr. Sangsby's, and I heerd him, but he sounded as if he was a speakin' to his-self, and not to me. He prayed a lot but I couldn't make out nothing on it. Different times there wos other gen'lmen comedown Tom-all- Alone' s a-prayin', but they mostly sed as the t'other wuns prayed wrong, and all mostly sounded to be a talking to theirselves, or a passing blame on the t'others, and not a SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TOISJi.. 147 talkin' to us. We never knowd nothink. I never knowd what it wos all alb out." It takes him a long time to say this ; and few Tbut an experienced and attentive listener could hear, or, hearing, understand him. After a short relapse into sleep or stupor, he makes, of a sudden, a strong effort to get out of bed. "Stay, Jo, stay! What now?" "It's time for me to go to that there berryin-ground, sir," he returns with a wild look. "Lie down, and tell me. What burying-ground, Jo? " "Where they laid him as wos wery good to me : wery good to me indeed, he wos. It's time fur me to go down to that there berryin- ground, sir, and ask to be put along with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used fur to say to me, 'I am as poor as you to-day, Jo,' he ses. I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him now, and have come there to be laid along with him." "By-and-by, Jo. By-and-by." "Ah! P'raps they would n't do it if I wos to go myself. But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and have me laid along with him ? " "I will, indeed." *' Thankee, sir. Thankee, sir. They '11 have to get the key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it's alius locked. And there's a step there, as I used fur to clean with my broom. It 's turned wery dark, sir. Is there any light a-comin' ? " "It is coming fast, Jo." Fast. The cart is shaken all to pieces, and the rugged road is very near its end. "Jo, my poor fellow ! " "I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I 'm a gropin' — a gropin' — let me catch hold of your hand." "Jo, can you say what I say? " ♦* I'll say anythink as you say, sir, for I know it's good." " Our Father." "Our Father! — Yes, that's wery good, sir." "Which art in Heaven." "Art in Heaven — is the light a-comin', sir?" " It is close at hand. Hallowed be thy name ! " " Hallowed be — thy — name ! " "The light is come upon the dark benighted way. Dead \ Dead, your Majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. Dead, Bight Rev- erends and Wrong Reverends of every order. Dead, men and 148 ELOCUTION. women, born with Heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day ! SCENE FROM "MACBETH." Shakespeare. Macbeth alone. Macbeth. Is this a dagger which I see before me ? The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee : I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind ; a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As that which now I draw. Thou marshal' st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still, And on thy blade, and dudgeon, gouts of blood, Which was not so before.^ — There's no such thing: It is the bloody business, which informs Thus to mine eyes. — Now o'er the one half world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtained sleep ; now witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offering ; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. — Thoii sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my where-about. And take the present horror from the time. Which now suits with it. — While I threat, he lives: Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. [A bell rings. ) I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. (^Exii.) Enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold : What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire : — Hark ! — Peace ! SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 149 It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it: The doors are open ; and the suspected grooms Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. Macbeth {within). Who 's there ? — what ho ! Lady 31. Alack ! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done : — the attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us : — Hark ! — I laid their daggers ready, He could not miss them. — Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done 't. — My husband ? Enter Macbeth. Macb. I have done the deed : — Did'st thou not hear a noise ? Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? Macb. When ? Lady M. Now. 3Iacb. As I descended ? Lady M. Ay. Macb. Hark ! — Who lies i' the second chamber ? Lady M. Donalbain. Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.) Lady 31. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. Macb. There 's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, murder I That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep. Lady M. There are two lodg'd together. Macb. One cried, God bless us I and Amen, the other ; As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands, Listening their fear. I could not say, amen, When they did say, Grod bless us. Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce amen ? I had most need of blessing, and amen Stuck in my throat. Lady M. These deeds must not be thought After these ways ; so, it will make us mad. 13* 150 ELOCUTION. Mach. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more! Macbeth doth murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; Sleep, that knits up the ravelVd sleave of care, The death of each day''s life, sore lahor^s bath. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast. Lady M. What do you mean ? Ifacb. Still it cried, Sleep no more ! to all the house. Glamis hath murdered sleep ; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more ! Lady M. Who was it that thus cried ? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things : — Go, get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. — Why did you bring these daggers from their place ? They must lie there : Go, carry them ; and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. Macb. I'll go no more : I am afraid to think what I have done ; Look on't again, I dare not. Lady M. Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers : The sleeping, and the dead, Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal. For it must seem their guilt. [Uxit. — Knocking within.) Macb. AVhence is that knocking ? How is 't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here ? Ha ! they pluck out mine eyes ! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will rather The multitudinous sea incarnadine, Making the green — one red. Re-enter Lady Macbeth. Lady M. My hands are of your color ; but I shame To wear a heart so white. — [Knock.) I hear a knocking At the south entry : retire we- to our chamber : A little water clears us of this deed : How easy is it then ? Your constancy Hath left you unattended. — [Knocking.) Hark, more knocking : Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us. SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 151 And show us to be watcliless : — Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. Mach. To know my deed, — 'twere best not know myself. [Knock.) Wake Duncan with thy knocking ! Ay, 'would thou couldst ! THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OP LINCOLNSHIRE. (1571.) Jean Ingelow. The old mayor climbed the belfry tower, The ringers rang by two, by three ; "Pull, if ye never pulled before; Grood ringers, pull your best," quoth he. "Play uppe, play uppe, Boston bells! Ply all your changes, all your swells, Play uppe ' The Brides of Enderby.' " Men say it was a stolen tyde — The Lord that sent it, He knows all ; But in myne ears doth still abide The message that the bells let fall : And there was nought of strange, beside The flight of mews and peewits pied By millions crouched on the old sea-wall. [ sat and spun within the doore. My thread brake oif, I raised myne eyes ; The level sun, like ruddy ore. Lay sinking in the barren skies. And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wandereth, My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. "Cusha! Cusha ! Cusha !" calling, Ere the early dews were falling, Farre away I heard her song. , " Cusha ! Cusha ! " all along ; Where the reedy Lindis floweth, Floweth, floweth. From the meads where melick groweth Faintly came her milking song — "Cusha! Cusha! Cusha !" calling " For the dews will soone be falling ; 152 ELOCUTION. Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow ; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow; Come uppe Wliitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Quit the stalks of parsley hollow. Hollow, hollow ; Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, From the clovers lift your head ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot, Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, Jetty, to the milking shed." If it be long, ay, long ago, When I beginne to think howe long, Againe I hear the Lindis flow. Swift as an arrowe, sharp and strong ; And all the aire, it seemeth mee. Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee). That ring the tune of Enderby. Alle fresh the level pasture lay, And not a shadows mote be seene. Save where full fyve good miles away The steeple towered from out the greene ; And lo ! the great bell farre and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide. The swanherds where their sedges are Moved on in sunset's golden breath. The shepherde lads I heard afarre, And my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth ; Till floating o'er the grassy sea Came downe that kindly message free. The "Brides of Mavis Enderby." Then some looked uppe into the sky, And all along where Lindis flows To where the goodly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple shows. They sayde, "And why should this thing be? What danger lowers by land or sea ? They ring the tune of Enderby ! SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 153 *< For evil news from Mablethorpe, Of pyrate galleys warping downe ; For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe, They have not spared to wake the towne : But while the west bin red to see, And storms be none, and pyrates flee, Why ring ' The Brides of Enderby ' ? " I looked without, and lo ! my sonne Came riding down with might and main: He raised a shout as he drew on, Till all the welkin rang again, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) "The old sea wall (he cried) is downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne Go sailing uppe the market-place." He shook as one that looks on death : " God save you, mother ! " strait he saith ; " Where is my wife, Elizabeth ? " "Good Sonne, where Lindis winds away, . With her two bairns I marked her long ; And ere yon bells beganne to play Afar I heard her milking song." He looked across the grassy lea. To right, to. left, " Ho Enderby ! " They rang " The Brides of Enderby ! " With that he cried and beat his breast ; For, lo ! along the river's bed A mighty eygre reared his crest. And uppe the Lindis raging sped. It swept with thunderous noises loud ; Shaped like a curling snow-white cloud, Or like a demon in a shroud. And rearing Lindis backward pressed. Shook all her trembling bankes amaine, Then madly at the eygre' s breast Flung uppe her weltering walls again. 154 ELOCUTION. Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout — Then beaten foam flew round about — Then all the mighty floods were out. So farre, so fast the eygre drave, The heart had hardly time to beat, Before a shallow seething wave Sobbed in the grasses at oure feet. The feet had hardly time to flee Before it brake against the knee, And all the world was in the sea. Upon the roofe we sat that night, The noise of bells went sweeping by ; I marked the lofty beacon light Stream from the church tower, red and high- A lurid mark and dread to see ; And awesome bells they were to mee, That in the dark rang "Enderby." They rang the sailor lads to guide From roofe to roofe who fearless rowed ; And I — my sonne was at my side, And yet the ruddy beacon glowed ; And yet he moaned beneath his breath, < come in life, or come in death ! lost ! my love, Elizabeth." And did'st thou visit him no more ? Thou did'st, thou did'st, my daughter deare ; The waters laid thee at his doore, Ere yet the early dawn was clear, Thy^pretty bairns in fast embrace. The lifted sun shone on thy face, Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place. That flow strewed wrecks about the grass, That ebbe swept out the flocks to see ; A fatal ebbe and flow, alas ! To manye more than myne and me : But each will mourn his own (she saith), And sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth. SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 155 I shall never hear her more By the reedy Lindis shore, "Cusha! Cusha ! Cusha!" calling, Ere the early dews be falling ; I shall never hear her song, " Cusha ! Cusha ! " all along Where the sunny Lindis floweth, Goeth, floweth ; From the meads where melick groweth, When the water winding down, Onward floweth to the town. I shall never see her more Where the reeds and rushes quiver, Shiver, quiver ; Stand beside the sobbing river. Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling To the sandy lonesome shore ; I shall never hear her calling, "Leave your meadow grasses mellow, Mellow, mellow ; Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow ; Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe Lightfoot; Quit your pipes of parsley hollow, Hollow, hollow ; Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and follow ; Lightfoot, Whitefoot, From your clovers lift the head ; Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow, Jetty, to the milking shed," THE MAY QUEEN. Tennyson. You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear ; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New- Year ; Of all the glad New-Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day ; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. There 's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine ; There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline; But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say ; So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. 156 ELOCUTION. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see. But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree ? He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday, — But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be : They say his heart is breaking, mother — what is that to me ? There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day. And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. Little Efiie shall go with me to-morrow to the green. And you '11 be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen ; For the Shepherd lads on every side 'ill come from far away. And I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o' the May. The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers ; And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers ; And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray. And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow grass. And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass ; There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day. And I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o' the May. All the valley, mother, 'ill be fresh and green and still, And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill. SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 157 And the rivulet in the flowery dale 'ill merrily glance and play, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-Year: To-morrow 'ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, For I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o' the May, NEW- YEAR'S EVE. If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-Year. It is the last New-Year that I shall ever see. Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think no more of me. To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind ; And the New-Year 's coming up, mother, but I shall never see The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. Last May we made a crown of flowers : we had a merry day ; Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May; And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse. Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops. There's not a flower on all the hills; the frost is on the pane: I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again: I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high : I long to see a flower so before the day I die. The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea. And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave, But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave of mine, In the early, early morning the summer sun 'ill shine. Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill. When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still. When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light You '11 never see me more in the long gray fields at night ; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool On the oat -grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool 14 158 ELOCUTION. You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, And you '11 come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass, With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. I have been wild and wayward, but you '11 forgive me now: You '11 kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow: Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child. If I can I '11 come again, mother, from out my resting-place ; Though you '11 not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face ; Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often, often with you when you think I 'm far away. Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night forevermore, And jj^ou see me carried out from the threshold of the door : Don't let Eflfie come to see me till my grave be growing green: She '11 be a better child to you than ever I have been. She'll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor: Let her take 'em : they are hers: I shall never garden more : But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set About the parlor-window, and the box of mignonette. Good-night, sweet mother ; call me before the day is born, All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn ; But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-Year, So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear. CONCLUSION. I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am ; And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year ! To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here. sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies. And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise. And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go. It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun. And now it seems as hard to stay : and yet. His will be done I But still I think it can't be long before I find release ; And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace. SELECTIONS.— QUALITIES OF TONE. 159 blessings on liis kindly yoice and on his silver hair! And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there.' blessings on his kindly heart, and on his silver head ! A thousand times I blest him, as he knelt beside my bed. He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin. Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me int Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. 1 did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death watch beat, There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet: But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine, And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign. All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call : It was when the morn was setting, and the dark was over all ; The bees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my so-ul. For lying broad awake I thought of you and Effie dear ; I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here ; With all my strength I prayed for both, and so I felt resigned, And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind. i thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my bed. And then did something speak to me — I know not what was said; For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind, And up the valley came again the music on the wind. But you were sleeping; and I said, "It's not for them, it's mine." And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign. And once again it came, and close beside the window-bars, Then seemed to go right up to heaven and die among the stars. So now I think my time is near : I trust it is. I know The blessed music went that way my soiil will have to go. And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day. But, Effie, you must comfort her when I am past away. And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret : There 's many worthier than I, would make him happy yet. If I had lived — I cannot tell — I might have been his wife.; But all these things have ceased to be, with my desire of life 160 ELOCUTION. . look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow ; He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine — Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine. sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done The voice, that now is speaking, may be beyond the sun — Forever and forever with those just souls and 'true — And what is life, that we should moan ? why make we such ado ? Forever and forever, all in a blessed home — And there to wait a little while till you and EflBe come — To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast — And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. THE. BELLS. Edgar A. Poe, Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; . Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Eunic rhyme. To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding bells — Golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells ! Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight ! From the molten-golden notes, And all in tune. What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh, from out the sounding-cells, SELECTION'S. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 161 What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future ! — how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells — Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! Hear the loud alarum bells — Brazen bells ! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright ! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulatix)n with the deaf and frantic fire Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeayor Now — now to sit, or never. By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells ! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air ! Yet the ear, it fully knows, By the twanging And the clanging. How the danger ebbs and flows ; Yet the ear distinctly tells. In the jangling And the wrangling How the danger sinks and swells. By the sinking and the swelling in the anger of the bells — Of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 14* L 162 ELOCUTION. Bells, bolls, bells. In the clanioi' and the claugor of the bells ! Hear the tolling of the bells — Iron bells ! What a woi'ld of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people — ah, the people — They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman — They are neither brute nor'human — They are Ghouls : And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the psean of the bells ! And he dances, and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time. In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the pgean of the bells — Of the bells : Keeping time, time, time. In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the throbbing of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells — To the sobbing of the bells : -^ Keeping time, time, time. As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme. To the rolling of the bells ^ Of the bells, bells, bells : — SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 163 To the tolling of the bells — Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — To the moaning and the groaning of the bells ! ODE TO THE PASSIONS. Wm. Collins. When Music, heavenly maid ! was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Thronged around her magic cell ; Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting. Possessed beyond the Muse's painting ; fey turns they felt the glowing mind Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined ; Till once, 't is said, when all were fired, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired. From the supporting myrtles round They snatched her instruments of sound ; And as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art. Each, for madness ruled the hour. Would prove his own expressive power. First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords, bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made. Next, Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire. In lightnings own'd his secret stings ; In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept, with hurried hand, the strings. With woful measures wan Despair, Low, sullen sounds, his grief beguiled ; A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, Oh Hope! with eyes so fair, What Was thy delighted measure ? Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scene at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 164 ELOCUTION". And, from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all the song ; And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft, responsive voice was heard at every close ; And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair. And longer had she sung, but, with a frown. Revenge impatient rose ; He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down. And with a withering look. The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ; And ever and anon he beat The doubling drum, with furious heat ; And though, sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity at his side Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild, unalter'd mien. While each strain' d ball of sight seem'd bursting from his head. Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd; Sad proof of thy distressful state ; Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd. And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. With eyes upraised, as one inspired, Pale Melancholy sat retired, And from her wild, sequestered seat. In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; And clashing soft from rocks around. Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole ; Or o'er some haunted streams, with fond delay, Round a holy calm diffusing, Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. But, oh! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone. When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. Her bow across her shoulder flung. Her buskins gcmm'd with morning dew. Blew an inspiring aix', that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known; SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 165 The oak-crowned sisters, and their chaste-eyed queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen Peeping from forth their alleys green ; Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear, And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear. Last came Joy's ecstatic trial ; He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand addressed ; But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best. They would have thought, who heard the strain, They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed with Mirth, a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; And he, amidst his frolic play. As if he would the charming air repay. Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. GODIVA. Tennyson. 1 waited for the train at Coventry ; I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge, To' watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped The city^s ancient legend into this : — Not only we, the latest seed of Time, New men, that in the flying of a wheel Cry down the past, not only we, that prate Of rights and wrongs, have loved "the people well, And loathed to see them overtaxed ; but she Did more, and underwent, and overcame, The woman of a thousand summers back, Godiva, wife to that grim Earl, who ruled In Coventry : for when he laid a tax Upon his town, and all the mothers brought Their children, clamoring, "If we pay, we starve ! " She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode About the hall, among his dogs, alone. His beard a foot before him, and his hair -fvat 166 ELOCUTION. A yard behind. She told him of their tears, And prayed him, "If they pay this tax, they starve." Whereat he stared, replying half-amazed, "You would not let your little finger ache For such as these ?" — " But I would die," said she. He laughed, and swore by Peter and by Paul : Then filliped at the diamond in her ear ; " ay, ay, ay, you talk ! " — " Alas ! " she said, " But prove me what it is I would not do." And from a heart as rough as Esau's hand. He answer'd, "Ride you naked through the town, And I repeal it ; " and nodding, as in scorn, He parted, with great strides among his dogs. So left alone, the passions of her mind, As winds from all the compass shift and blow. Made war upon each other for an hour. Till pity won. She sent a herald forth, And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all The hard condition ; but that she would loose The people : therefore*, as they loved her well, From then till noon no foot should pace the street, No eye look down, she passing ; but that all Should keep within, door shut, and window barred. Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there Unclasped the wedded eagles of her belt, The grim Eai'l's gift ; but ever at a breath She lingered, looking like a summer moon Half-dipt in cloud : anon she shook her head, And shoAvered the rippled ringlets to her knee ; Unclad herself in haste; adown the stair Stole on ; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid From pillar unto pillar, untir she reached The gateway ; there she found her palfrey trapt In purple blazoned with armorial gold. Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity: The deep air listened round her as she rode, And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear. The little wide-mouthed heads upon the spout Had cunning eyes to see : the barking cur Made her cheek flame : her palfrey's footfall shot Light horrors through her pulses : the blind walls Were full of chinks and boles ; and overhead SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 167 Fantastic gables, crowding, stared : but she Not less tlirough all bore up, till, last, she saw The white-flowered elder thicket from the field Gleam through the Gothic archways in the wall. Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity: And one low churl, compact of thankless earth, The fatal byword of all years to come, Boring a little auger-hole in fear, Peeped — but his eyes, before they had their will, Were shrivelled into darkness in his head, And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait On noble deeds, cancelled a sense misused ; And she, that knew not, passed : and all at once, "With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon Was clashed and hammered from a hundred towers. One after one : but even then she gained Her bower ; whence reissuing, robed and crowned, To meet her lord, she took the tax away. And built herself an everlasting name. EXTRACT FROM "THE PRINCESS." Tennyson. The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free : For she that out of Lethe scales with man The shining steps of Nature, shares with man His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal, Stays all the fair young planet in her hands - — If she be small, slight-natured, miserable. How shall men grow ? but work no more alone ! Our place is much : as far as in us lies We two will serve them both in aiding her — Will clear away the parasitic forms That seem to keep her up, but drag her down — Will leave her space to burgeon out of all Within her — let her make herself her own To give or keep, to live and learn and be All that not harms distinctive womanhood. For woman is not undeveloped man, But diverse : could we make her as the man, Sweet love were slain : his dearest bond is this. Not like to like, but like in difference. VdS ELOCUTION. Yet in the long years liker must they grow ; The man Tbe more of woman, she of man ; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind ; Till at the last she set herself to man. Like perfect music unto noble words ; And so these twain, upon the. skirts of Time, Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers, Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing each, Distinct in individualities, But like each other even as those who love. Then comes the statelier Eden back to men : Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm: Then springs the crowning race of human kind. May these things be ! EXTRACT FROM THE "RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY.'* J/?'«. Browning. Ho ! the breach yawns into ruin, and roars up against her suing, — Toll slowly ! With the inarticulate din, and the dreadful falling in — Shrieks of doing and undoing ! Twice he wrung her hands in twain ; but the small hands closed again, — Toll sloioly ! Back he reined the steed — back, back! but she trailed along his track, With a frantic clasp and strain! Evermore the foeman pour through the crash of window and door, — Toll slowly! And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of " kill ! " and "flee!" Strike up clear the general roar. Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, — but they closed and clung again, — Toll slowly ! Wild she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood, In a spasm of deathly pain. SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 169 She clung wild and she clung mute, — with her shuddering lips half-shut, — Toll slowly ! Her head fallen as in a swound, — hair and 'knee swept on the ground, — She clung wild to stirrup and foot. Back he reined his steed, back-thrown on the slippery coping stone, — Toll slowly ! Back the iron hoofs did grind, on the battlement behind. Whence a hundred feet went down. And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode, Toll slowly ! " Friends, and brothers ! save my wife ! — Pardon, sweet, in change for life, — But I ride alone to God ! " Strait as if the Holy name did upbreathe her as a flame, — Toll slowly ! She upsprang, she rose upright ! — in his selle she sat in sight ; By her love she overcame. And her head was on his breast, where she smiled as one at rest, — Toll slowly ! "Ring," she cried, "0 vesper-bell, in the beech-wood's old cha- pelle ! But the passing bell rings best." They have caught out at the rein, which Sir Guy threw loose — in vain, — Toll slowly I For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air, On the last verge, rears amain. And he hangs, he rocks between — and his nostrils curdle in, — Toll slowly ! And he shivers head and hoof — and the flakes of foam fall off; And his face grows fierce and thin ! And a look of human woe, from his staring eyes did go — Toll slowly ! And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony Of the headlong death below, 15 170 ELOCUTION. And, "Ring, ring, — thou passing bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle ! Toll sloxoly ! Then back-toppling, crashing back — a dead weight flung out to wrack, Horse and riders overfell! EXTRACT FROM <' THE CELESTIAL COUNTRY." Bernard of Cluni. Trans, by John Mason Neale. For thee, dear, dear Country ! Mine eyes their vigils keep; For very love, beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest. one, onely Mansion! Paradise of Joy ! Where tears are ever banished, And smiles have no alloy, Beside thy living waters All plants are, great and small, The cedar of the forest. The hyssop of the wall; With jaspers glow thy bulwarks, Thy streets with emeralds blaze. The sardius and the topaz Unite in thee their rays ; Thine ageless walls are bonded With amethyst unpriced: Thy saints build up its fabric, And the corner-stone is Christ. Thou hast no shore, fair Ocean ! Thou hast no time, bright day! Pear fountain of refreshment To pilgrims far away! Upon the Rock of Ages They raise thy holy tower; SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 171 Thine is the victor's laurel, And thine the golden dower. Jerusalem the golden, With milk and honey hlest, Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed. I know not, I know not, What social joys are there ! What radiancy of glory, What light beyond compare ! They stand those halls of Sion, Conjubilant with song. And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng ; The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene ; The pastures of the Blessed Are decked in glorious sheen. Jerusalem the glorious! The glory of the Elect! dear and future vision That eager hearts expect ! Even now by faith I see thee, Even here thy walls discern ; To thee my thoughts are kindled, And strive, and pant, and yearn. Exult, dust and ashes I The Lord shall be thy part ; His only. His for "ever. Thou shalt be, and thou art! Exult, dust and ashes ! The Lord shall be thy part; His only. His for ever. Thou shalt be, and thou art! 172 ELOCUTIOi!^". THE SOLDIER FROM BINGEN. Mrs. Norton, A Soldier of tlie Legion lay dying in Algiers, There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears ; But a comrade stood beside him, while the life-blood ebbed away^ And bent with pitying glance to hear each word he had to say. The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, And he said : "I never more shall see my own — my native land! Take a message and a token to the distant friends of mine, For I was born at Bingen — at Bingen on the Rhine! *' Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun; And 'midst the dead and dying were some grown old in wars. The death-wound on their gallant breasts, — the last of many scars! But some were young, and suddenly beheld Life's morn decline, — And one had come from Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine! "Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage ; For my father was a soldier, and even when a child. My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword! And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen — calm Bingen on the Rhine! " Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, "When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread ; But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye. For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die ! And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place — (my father's sword and mine). For the honor of old Bingen — dear Bingen on the Rhine! SELECTIONS. — QUALITIES OF TONE. 173 "There's another, — not a sister, — in the happy days gone by, You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye ; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning, — Oh ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning. Tell her the last night of my life (for ere this moon be risen My body will be out of pain — my soul be out of prison,) I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine! "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along — I heard or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear ; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus soimded, through the evening calm and still, And her glad blue eyes were on me as we passed with friendly talk Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk, And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine, — But we'll meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingen on the R-hine! " His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his gasp was childish weak, His eyes put on a dying look, — he sighed, and ceased to speak; His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled — The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead! And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn ! Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine. THE NATION'S DEAD. Four hundred thousand men, The brave — the good — the true, In tangled wood, in mountain glen. On battle plain, in prison pen, Lie dead for me and you ! Four hundred thousand of the brave Have made our ransomed soil their grave, For me and you ! Good friend, for me and you ! In many a fevered swamp, • By many a black bayou, In many a cold and frozen camp. The weary sentinel ceased his tramp, 15* 174 ELOCUTION. And died for me and you! From Western plain to ocean tide Are stretched the graves of those who died For me and you! Good friend, for me and you! On many a bloody plain Their ready swords they drew, Andpoured their life-blood, like the rain, A home — a heritage to gain. To gain for me and you ! Our brothers mustered by our side, They marched, they fought, and bravely died For me and you ! " Good friend, for me and you ! Up many a fortress wall They charged — those boys in blue — 'Mid surging smoke, and volley'd ball The bravest were the first to fall ! To fall for me and you! These noble men — the nation's pride - Four hundred thousand men have died For me and you ! Good friend, for me and you ! In treason's prison-hold Their martyr spirits grew^ To stature like the saint's of old, While amid agonies untold. They starved for me and you ! The good, the patient and the tried, Four hundred thousand men have died For me and you ! Good friend, for me and you ! A debt we ne'er can pay To them is justly due, And to the nation's latest day Our children's children still shall say, "They died for me and you!" Four hundred thousand of the brave Made this, our ransomed soil, their grave For me and you ! Good friend, for me and you! INFLECTIONS. 175 INFLECTIONS. Inflections are the peculiar slides which the voice takes in pronouncing a letter, syllable, or word. The Rising Inflection is the upward slide of the voice. It may be indicated by the acute accent ( '' ). The Falling Inflection is the downward slide of the voice. It may be indicated by the grave accent (^).* The Circumflex or Wave is the union of the rising and falling in- flections. It is called Direct when the first interval ascends (^^); Inverted, when the order of the intervals is reversed ( "v) ; Equal, when the rising and falling are the same, and Unequal, when they are different. It is called Single when two intervals only are thus joined (v or /s^) ; Double, when another is joined continuously to tlie second of the single form (\a). " The use of Inflection is to give significance to speech ,• it constitutes that part of modulation addressed to the understanding, ranking next to distinct articulation, as the means of rendering consecutive oral expression intelligible. It has, too, a certain effect of local melody, — so to term it, — in the successive clauses of a sentence, without which aid we could not discriminate between the commencement and the completion of a thought addressed to the ear. Propriety of tone, even in the plainest forms of prose reading, is wholly dependent on the right use of inflections. ... In the reading of verse, appropriate inflections are the only means of avoiding the two great evils of monotony and cHant." — Russell. "Words may be considered under three aspects: as representatives of simple thought, as indicative of an enforcing of thought and as expres- sive of passion. The progress of the voice in speaking (as before stated) is called Melody. The course of melody under the direction of simple thought, is through the interval of a tone in the radical change, with a concrete rise of a tone from each of those radicals. But the portions of discourse representing simple thought ai'e limited ,■ thoughts are to be enforced and passions expressed. The tenor of the simple diatonic melody is therefore often interrupted by an occurrence of wider intervals of the scale both in the concrete and discrete forms." — Rxiali. •■'■ Should the pupil be unable readily to distinguish between the rising and falling inflections, the following plan may be adopted to overcome the difficulty. Take for illustration the word "constitution." To exemplify the use of the falling inflection, let the question be asked, "What is the word?" — The answer — " Constitution" — will inevitably be given with the falling elide of the voice. To secure the use of the rising slide, a direct question, (demanding a positive answer, — "yes," or "no" — ) may be asked by the pupil; thus, "Is the word 'Constitution'?" The interrogation will be involuntarily made with the rising inflection. 176 ELOCUTION. By the term Octave is meant the uninterrupted move- ment of the voice from any assumed radical place, through the notes of the scale, till it vanishes in the eighth degree above or below that radical place. The Rising Octave expresses the most forcible degree of interi^ogation, and of emphasis on a rising intervaL It is the appropriate intonation of questions accompanied with contempt, mirth, raillery, and the temper or triumph of peevish or indignant argument. Examples. " My extravagance ! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman ought to be "Sir Peter, am I to blame because flowers are dear in cold weather ? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I 'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet." — School foe, Scandal.— Sheridan. "Do you deny me justice? Saints of heaven, He turns from me! Do you deny me justice ? For fifteen years, while in these lands dwelt empire, The humblest craftsman — the obscurest vassal — The very leper shrinking from the sun, Though loathed by Charity, might ask for justice ! Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien Of some I see around you — Courts and Princes — % Kneeling for favors ; — but erect and loud. As men who ask man's rights ! my liege, my Lord, Do you refuse me justice — audience even — In the pale presence of the baffled Murther ? " Richelieu. — Bulwer, "What ? shall we teach our chroniclers henceforth To write that in five bodies were contained The sole brave hearts of Ghent ! which five defunct, The heartless town, by brainless counsel led, Deliver' d up her keys, stript ofi" her robes, And so with all humility besought Her haughty lord that he would scourge her lightly ! " Philip Van Artevelde. — - Henry Taylor. INFLECTIONS. — KISING FIFTH. 177 **If it will feed nothing else, it will leed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bar- gains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies. And what's his reason ? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions. Senses, affections, passions ? Is he not fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter, as a Christian is ? If you stab us, do we not bleed ? If you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you poi- son us, do we not die ? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility ? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example ? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I will execute ; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction." — ShylocTc, in The Merchant of Venice. The Rising Fifth, like the octave, is used for interroga- tion, — for wonder and admiration, when they embrace a slight degree of inquiry and doubt, and for emphasis. It has, however, less of the smart inquisitiveness of the latter interval ; it is the most common form of interrogation, and without having the piercing force of the octave, is equally- capable of energy, and is always more dignified in its expression. " The intonation of the octave, whethei' by concrete or by radical pitch, is rarely employed; since a rise of eight degrees above the ordinary line of utterance carries most speakers into the falsette. And even with those in whom the rise might not exceed the natural voice, the melody, when sud- denly changed in radical pitch, would often be ludicrous, from contrast; or would be in danger of breaking into the falsette in its variations ; or would be beyond the limits of the spenker's skilful elocution. These ob- jections do not apply to an occasional skip of radical pitch through the ascent of the fifth; the variation being less striking in contrast; and the interval of a fifth above the common range of the voice, being rarely beyond practicable management." — Bush. Examples. "Must I bid twice? Hence, varlets fly! Leave Marmion here alone to die." Mabmion. — Scott. M 178 ELOCUTION-. ''They tell us, Sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inac- tion? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? " — Patrick Henry. " Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel ? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts ? Or all the same as if he had not been ? Not so. Shall Error in the round of time Still father Truth ? 0, shall the braggart shout For some blind glimpse of freedom work itself Through madness, hated by the wise, to law System and empire ? Sin itself be found The cloudy porch oft opening on the Sun? And only he, this wonder, dead, become Mere highway dust ? or year by year alone Sit brooding in the ruins of a life. Nightmare of youth, the spectre of himself? If this were thus, if this, indeed, were all, Better the narrow brain, the stony heai;t, The staring eye glared o'er with sapless days, The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set gray life, and apathetic end. But am I not the nobler through thy love ? three times less unworthy! likewise thou Art more through Love, and greater than thy years. The Sun will run his orbit, and the Moon Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring The drooping flower of Knowledge changed to fruit Of wisdom. Wait : my faith is large in Time, And that which shapes it to some perfect end. Will some one say, then why not ill for good ? Why took ye not your pastime ? To that man My works shall answer, since I knew the right And did it ; for a man is not as God, But then most Godlike being most a man." LoTE AND Duty. — Tennyson. INFLECTIONS. — RISING THIRD. 179 ''When the great Ship of Life, Surviving, though shattered, the tumult and strife Of earth's angry elenient, — masts broken short, Decks drench'd, bulwarks beaten — drives safe into port; When the Pilot of Galilee, seen on the strand, Stretches over the waters a welcoming hand ; When, heeding no longer the sea's baffled roar, The mariner turns to his rest evermore ; What will then be the answer the helmsman must give ? Will it be. ... ' Lo our log book ! Thus once did we live In the zones of the South ; thus we traversed the seas Of the Orient ; there dwelt in the Hesperides : Thence followed the west wind ; here, eastward we turned ; The stars failed us there ; just here land we discerned On our lea ; there the storm overtook us at last ; That day went the bowsprit, the next day the mast; There the mermen came round us, and there we saw bask A syren ? ' The Captain of Port will he ask Any one of such questions ? I cannot think so ! But . . . ' what is the last Bill of Health you can show ? ' Not — How fared the soul through the trials she pass'd? But, — What is the state of that soul at the last ? " Lfcile, — Owen 3Ieredith. The Rising Third is also used for interrogative expres- sion and for emphasis: but its degree in both these cases is less than the fifth. It is the sign of interrogation in its most moderate form, and carries with it none of those sen- timents, which, jointly with the question, were allotted to the Fifth and Octave. Examples. "What would'st thou have a great good man obtain? Wealth, title, dignity, a golden chain. Or heap of corses which his sword hath slain? Goodness and greatness are not means, but ends. Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures — love, and light, And calm thoughts, equable as infant's breath ; And three fast friends, more sure than day or night — Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death." The Good Great Man. — Coleridge. 180 ELOCUTION. **Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a sweet dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold : Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, 'What writest thou? ' The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord. Answered — 'The names of those who love the Lord.' 'And is mine one?' said Abou; 'Nay, not so,' Replied the angel. — Abou spoke more low. But cheerly still ; and said, ' I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.' "The angel wrote, and vanish'd. The next night It came again, with a great wakening light. And showed the names whom love of God had bless'd — , And, lo ! Ben Adhem' s name led all the rest." Abou Ben Adhem. — Leigh Hunt. " Passion is blind, not love ; her wondrous might Informs with threefold power man's inward sight ; To her deep glance, the soul, at large displayed. Shows all its mingled mass of light and shade: Men call her blind when she but turns her head. Nor scans the fault for which her tears are shed. Can dull IndiflFerence ot Hate's troubled gaze See through the secret heart's mysterious maze ? Can Scorn and Envy pierce that ' dread abode ' Where true faults rest beneath the eye of Grod ? Not theirs, 'mid inward darkness, to discern The spiritual splendors, how they shine and burn. All bright endowments of a noble mind They, who with joy behold them, soonest find ; And better none its stains of frailty know Than they who fain would see it white as snow." — Coleridgt "And is there care in Heaven? And is there love In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace, That may compassion of their evils move ? There is : — else much more wretched were the cace Of men than beasts : But ! th' exceeding grace INFLECTIONS. — DOWNWARD OCTAVE. 181 Of Highest God tliat loves his creatures so, And all his workes with mercy doth embrace, That blessed a^ngels he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe ! *' How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us that succour want ! How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skyes, like flying pursuivant Against foule fiends, to ayd us militant ! They for us fight, they watch and dewly ward. And their bright squadrons round about us plant ; And all for love and nothing for reward : 0, why should Hevenly God to men have such regard! " Faerie Queene. — Spenser. The Downward Octave expresses the highest degree of admiration, astonishment, ^ and positive command, either alone or united with other sentiments. Its expression is marked by a quaint sentiment of familiarity, or an axces- sive degree of violence. Examples. ** I give you six hours and a half to consider of this; if you then agree, without any condition, to do everything on earth that I choose, why, confound you ! I may in time forgive you. If not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me: but get an atmosphere and sun of your own : I '11 strip you of your commission ; I '11 lodge a five-and-three-pence in the hands of your trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I '11 disown you ; I '11 disinherit you ; and hang me, if ever I call you Jack again ! " The Rivals. — Knowles. " Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. Boy ! slave ! — Pardon me, lords, 't is the first time that ever I was forced to scold." — Coriolanus. — Shakespeare. '" Boy ! false hound ! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there 16 182 ELOCUTION. That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Voices in Corioli : Alone I did it. — Boy ! "— Ibid. "Come, consecrated lictors, from your thrones; Fling down your sceptres ; take the rod and axe, And make the murder as you make the law ! Banished from Rome ! What 's banished, but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe ? Tried and convicted traitor ! Who says this ? Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head ? Banished ! I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain ! 1 held some slack allegiance till this hour ; But now my sword 's my own. Smile on, my lords! I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes. Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, To leave you in your lazy dignities. But here I stand and scoff you ! here, I fling Hatred and defiance in your face ! Your con.sul 's merciful. — For this, all thanks. He daises not touch a hair of Catiline! " Catiline to the Senate. — Croly. The Downward Fifth has in many respects a meaning, similar to the octave, but it clothes its sentiments of smiZ- ing surprise, admiration, and command with greater dignity. Its concrete, like that of the octave, may be modi- fied in meaning by different applications of stress. Examples. "A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : Advance our standards, set upon our foes ! Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! Upon them! Victory sits on our helms." King, in Richard Third. " Begone ! run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plagues That needs must light on this ingratitude ! " Marcellus, in Julius C^sar. INFLECTIONS. — DOWNWARD THIRD. 183 " 'Tis Cassar's sword has made Rome's Senate little, And thinned its ranks. Alas ! thy dazzled eye Beholds this man in a false glaring light, Which conquest and success have thrown upon him ; Didst thou but view him right, thou 'dst see him black With murder, treason, sacrilege, and — crimes That strike my soul with horror but to name them. I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch Beset with ills, and covered with misfortunes ; But, as I love my country, millions of worlds Should never buy me to be like that CaBsar." Cato. — Addison, ^<'Lady Clara Vere de Vere, There stands a spectre in your hall : The guilt of blood is at your door : You changed a wholesome heart to gall. You held your course without remorse, To make him trust his modest worth, And, last, you fixed a vacant stare. And slew him with your noble birth." Lady Clara Vere de Vere, — Tennyson. "The Downward Third has an expression similar to that of the fifth, but of more moderate degree. Dignity of vocal character, like that of personal gesture, consists not only in the slowness of time, and the restraint of effort, but in a limitation within the widest range of movement. As there is most composure in an interrogation by the use of a third, so the expression of surprise and admiration by a downward interval, is most subdued and dignified when heard on the falling third." As the rising third is used for emphasis alone, independently of its interrogative import, so the falling third may be employed with- out expressing surprise or command, merely for varying the effect of intonation. Examples. *< Lords and Commons of England ! consider what nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors ; a nation not slow and dull, but of a quick, ingenious and piercing spirit ; acute 184 ELOCUTION". to invent, subtile and sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point that human capacity can soar to. . . . Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks ; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her un- dazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam ; purging and unsealing her long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance ; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means." — Areopagitica. — Milton. "People do not see the strange things which pass them every day. ' The romance of real life ' is only one to the romantic spirit. And then they set up for critics instead of pupils ; as if the artist's business was not just to see what they cannot see — to open their eyes to the harmonies and the discords, the miracles and the ab- surdities, which seem to them one uniform gray fog of common- places." — Kingsley. **No man can learn what he has not preparation for learning, however near to his eyes is the object. A chemist may tell his most precious secrets to a carpenter, and he shall be never the wiser, — the secrets he would not utter to a chemist for an estate. God screens us evermore from premature ideas. Our eyes are holden that we cannot see things that stare us in the face, until the hour arrives when the mind is ripened ; then we behold them, and the time when we saw them not is like a dream. . . . There are graces in the demeanor of a polished and noble per- son that are lost upon the eye of a churl. These are like the stars whose light has not yet reached us." — Emerson. "Live while you live, the epicure would say. And seize the pleasures of the present day. Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries, And give to God each moment as it flies. Lord, in my views let both united be ; I live in pleasure when I live to Thee." — Doddridge. " The truth in God's breast Lies trace for trace upon ours impressed: Though He is so bright and we so dim We are made in His image to witness Him ; And were no eye in us to tell. Instructed by no inner sense. The light of Heaven fiom the dark of Hell, INFLECTIONS. — DOWNWARD THIRD. 185 That light would want its evidence, — Though Justice, Good and Truth were still Divine, if, by some demon's will. Hatred and wrong had been proclaimed Law through the worlds, and Right misnamed, No mere exposition of morality Made or in part or in totality. Should win you to give it worship, therefore." Christmas-Eve. — Robert Browning, *