AN ESSAYi         --    t
ANt ESSAY
ON
THE STUDY OF LITERATURE,
AND ON
VOCAL CULTURE
AS INDISPENSABLE TO AN IESTHETIC APPRECIATION
OF POETRY.
BY
HIRAM CORSON, A.M.,
EDITOR OF "CHAUCER'8S LEGENDE OF GOODE WOMEN;" PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND
OF TiE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN ST. JORN'8 COLLEGE,
ANNAPOLIS; LATE PROFESSOR OF MORAL SCIENCE, HISTORY,
AND RHETORIC, IN GIRARD COLLEGE, PHILADELPHIA.
PHILADELPHIA:
CHARLES DESILVER,
1229 CHESTNUT STREET.
CUSHINGS & MEDAIRY, BALTIMORE.
WOODHOUSE & PARHAM, RICHMOND, VA.
1867.,








AN ESSAY
ON
THE STUDY OF LITERATURE,
AND ON
VOCAL CULTURE
AS INDISPENSABLE TO AN tESTtETIC APPRECIATION
OF POETRY.
DY
HIRAM CORSON, A.M.,
I1TOR OP "CHAUiCER'S LEGEND OF GOODE WOMEN;" PRoF1SSOR OF RrETOlIC AND
OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN ST. JOHN'8 CO(LLEGE
ANNAPOLIS; LATE PROFESSOR OF MORAL SCIENCE, HISTORY,
AtD RHETORICI IN GIRARD COLLEGE, PHILADELPHIA.
PHILADE LPHIA:
CHARLES DESILVER,
1229 CHESTNUT STREET.
CUSHINGS & MEDAIRY, BALTIMORE.
WOODHOUSE & -PARHAM, RICHMOND, VA.
1867.




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by
CHARLES DESILVER,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern
District of Pennsylvania.
J. FAGAN    a SON,
PUNTN~ED Sir P. 0. MARIKUT & SON.f




TO MY PUPILS
THIS BOOK
IS DEDICATED.
H. C.
(iii)








CONTENTS.
PAGE.
ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE AND ON VOCAL CULTURE........
Hiram Corson. 15
What is Literature?..........................Thomas De Quincey. 49
On the refining and elevating influence of Poetry..............
William Ellery Channing. 57
The Church of Brou............................. Matthew Arnold. 61
Description of a Country Gentleman of the Seventeenth
Century........................ Thomas Babington Macaulay. 69
A Rill from the Town Pump...........Nathaniel Hawthorne.  73
The Wreck of the Hesperus....Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 78
Squire Bull and his son Jonathan.....James Kirke Paulding. 82
The Alpine Sheep..................... Mrs. Maria White Lowell. 86
Spring....................................................... P. Willis.  88
Best method of Reading..............................enry Reed. 89
A literary Criticism..................................Joseph Dennie. 91
The height of the Ridiculous.........Oliver Wendell Holmes. 100
Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire...............
Edward Gibbon. 101
Gibbon's First Love............................. Edward Gibbon. 104
The Blind Preacher................................. William Wirt. 107
The Sea and the Mountains............ Oliver Wendell Holmes. 112
My Kate............E............... Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 114
Literature and Learning in the reign of Charles II............
Thomas Babington Macaulay. 116
The Human Voice.................... Oliver Wendell Holmes. 126
1*                                        (v)




vi                                CON TENTS.
PAGE.
Extracts from "Aurora Leigh"...Elizabeth B. Browning. 131-134
English  Landscape................................................. 131
Life................................................................ 132
The Soul's intimations of Immortality.................   133
London.................................................. 134
London............................................einrich Heine. 136
The Song of Deborah and  Barak................Book of Judges. 137
Incident at Bruges........................... William   Wordsworth. 140
Monk  Felix.................... Henry  Wadsworth Longfellow. 142
The tendency of nations to over-estimate the Past, and depreciate the Present.........Thomas Babington Macaulay. 147
Scorn  not the  Sonnet....................... William   Wordsworth. 149
The World is too much with us......... William Wordsworth. 150
Milton.......................William Wordsworth. 151
Silence................................................. Thomas Hood. 151
Fancy in Nubibus; or, the  Poet in the CIouds..................
Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 152
God's power and providence illustrated in the Animal Kingdom....................................................Book of Job. 153
Belshazzar's  Feast..................................Book of Daniel. 155
Rural Life  in  Sweden..........Henry  Wadsworth   Longfellow. 159
Passages from the Marble Faun....Nathaniel Hawthorne; 168-179
The Faun of Praxiteles........................................  168
The  Dying  Gladiator................................... 171
Description  of a  Fountain................................... 172
Needle-work......................................................... 173
The  Italian  Climate............................................... 174
On  the  appreciation  of a  Picture............................. 175
Description  of Saint Peter's.................................... 175
Guido's Beatrice..............................                177
Rome.....................................................   179
Songs and Lyrics from " The Princess"..Alfred Tennyson. 181-185
Reconciliation over a Child's Grave.......................  181
Cradle  Song......................................... 182




CONTENTS. 
PAGE.
Bugle Song........................................................... 182
The Days that are no more.................................... 183
The Dead Warrior................................................    184
"Ask me no more"..............................................   185
Tho Saxon and Latin elements of the English language; —
the peculiar province of each in poetic diction.............
Thomas De Quincey. 186
Visit of the Wise Men to the infant Saviour, and the Flight
into Egypt................................Gospel of St. fMatthew. 189
Parable of the Prodigal Son...............Gospel of St. Luke. 192
Christ and the Woman of Samaria........ Gospel of St. John. 194
Lady Clara Vere de Vere........................Alfred Tennyson. 197
The Lord of Burleigh.........................A7Alfred Tennyson. 200
Parallel between the Portraits of Byron and Shelley........
George Gilfillan. 204
Intellectual qualities of Milton.... William Ellery Channing. 205
The Skeleton in Armour........ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 208
Don Quixote.H...............................................enry Giles. 215
Godiva........................................................Leigh Hunt. 217
Godiva..................................................Alfred Tennyson. 223
Youth and Age..........................Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 226
Love; or, Genevieve....................Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 228
The Palimpsest................................Thomas De Quincey. 232
Ode to a Nightingale..................................... John Keats. 240
To a Lady with a Guitar.................. Percy Bysshe Shelley. 243
" He giveth his beloved Sleep"...Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 247
Cowper's Grave.....................Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 249
"Break, Break, Break".Alfred Tennyson. 252
The Dream of Eugene Aram....................Thomas Hood. 253
The Portraits of Shakspeare and Goethe....... David Masson. 262
The Humble Bee.......................... Ralph Waldo Emerson. 268
The Execution. A sporting anecdote.....R. Harris Barham. 271
A Dead Rose....................... Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 278




viii                    ~CONTIENTS.
PAGE.
Garden Fancies............ R.............Robert Browning. 279
Chaucer..................................................Hiram  Corson. 281
"Tribulation"-the Etymology of the Word....................
Richard Chenevix Trench. 289
June.Jae..........................James Russell Lowell. 292
The Voiceless....................... Oliver Wendell Holmes. 296
The Chambered Nautilus............... Oliver Wendell Holmes. 297
The Panther........................................ Leigh Hunt. 299
Description of a Spanish Bull-fight..................Lord Byron. 302
The Raven................................Edgar Allan Poe. 305
The Bells.........................................Edgar Allan Poe. 313
Ulalume......................................Edgar Allan Poe. 317
To a Mountain Daisy, on turning one down with the Plough
in April, 1786.........................Robert Burns. 321
Sublimity of the Prophet Isaiah.........Bishop Robert Lowth. 323
The Three Ladies of Sorrow...............Thomas De Quincey. 327
Sir Galahad.........................................lfred Tennyson. 332
Intimations of Immortality from recollections of early childhood...................W........  W.....William Wordsworth. 335
Boswell's Life of Johnson;-how  " Histories" are written....
Thomas Carlyle. 343
Morte D'Arthur.............................. Alfred Tennyson. 351
Ode to the West Wind.......................Percy Bysshe Shelley. 368
The Beauty of the Outer World a reflex of a pure and joyous
soul....................................Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 372
Extract from " Christabel"...........Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 373
Passages from " The Paradise Lost".........John Milton. 381-394
Satan recovers from his downfall and arouses his legions who lie entranced on the burning lake............ 381
Description of Satan......................................... 383
Pandemonium and its architect...................... 383
Satan on the wing for Earth, and his meeting with
Sin and Death at Hell gates.................................. 386
The expulsion of the rebel angels from Heaven......... 389




CONTENTS.                            ix
PAGE.
Passages from....................................... Shakspeare. 394-432
Shylock, the Jew, loans Bassanio three thousand ducats
on the security of a pound of Antonio's flesh............... 394
Othello, the Moor, accused by Brabantio of having won
his daughter Desdemona by love-potions and witchcraft,
makes his defence before the Duke and Senators of
Venice, and tells the story of his courtship................. 402
Hamlet at his Uncle's Court. —Horatio imparts to him
the appearance of his father's ghost........................... 411
Interview between Macbeth and Lady Macbeth after the
murder of King Duncan........................................ 421
Ulysses' advice to Achilles........................................     424








INDEX OF AUTHORS.
Arnold, Matthew..............,        61
Barham, R. Harris............................         271
Book of Daniel............     155
Book of Job.....................1....63..............         153
Book of Judges................................................  137
Browning, Elizabeth B.... 114, 131, 132, 133, 134, 247, 249, 278
Browning, Robert......................................... 279
Burns, Robert................................               321
Byron, Lord..                                                    302
Carlyle, Thomas.................................                   343
Channing, William  Ellery.............................   57, 205
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor........................... 152, 226, 228, 372
Corson, Hiram..............................    15, 281
Dennie, Joseph...............................                       91
De Quincey, Thomas............................... 49, 186, 232, 327
Emerson, Ralph Waldo.............................       268
Gibbon, Edward..............................         101, 104
Giles, Henry.........................       215
Gilfillan, George............................   204
Gospel of St. John.................................     194
Gospel of St. Luke.......................................        1~2
Gospel of St. Matthew...............................................  189
Hawthorne, Nathaniel....... 168, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 179
Heine, Heinrich.....................       136
Holmes, Oliver Wendell................. 100, 112, 126, 296, 297
(xi)




2xi            INDXE OF A UTHOR$S.
PAGE.
Hood, Thomas................................ 151, 253
Hunt, Leigh......................                 217, 299
Ingoldsby, Thomas..2..................1. 271
Keats, John..................................... 240
Leland, Charles G...................... 136
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth..................... 78, 142, 159, 208
Lowell, James Russell.................................. 292
Lowell, Mrs. Maria White.......................................   86
Lowth, Robert..........................   323
Macaulay, Thomas Babington...................... 69, 116, 147
Masson, David....................... 262
Milton, John.....................              381-394
Paulding, James Kirke................................................   82
Poe, Edgar Allan............................. 305, 313, 317
Reed, Henry...................,..........             89
Shakspeare, William....................... 394-432
Shelley, Percy Bysshe.............. 243, 368
Tennyson, Alfred............ 181, 185, 197, 200, 223; 252, 332, 351
Trench, Richard Chenevix..........................      289
Willis, Nathaniel Parker......................................,.  88
Wirt, William....................                       107
Wordsworth, William.................140, 149, 150, 151, 335




INTROLUCTORY ESSAY
ON THE
STUDY OF LITERATURE, AND ON VOCAL CULTURE
AS INDISPENSABLE TO AN ESTRETIG
APPRECIATION OF POETRY.
BY HIRAM CORSON, A. M.
2                          (xiii)




So THEY READ IN THE BOOK IX THE LAW OF GOD
DISTINCTLY, AND GAVE THE SENSE, AND CAUSED THEM
TO UNDERSTAND THE READING.
NEHEMIAH, Chap. VIII., v. 8.
(xiv)




PART I.
ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.
ITERARY study, in its higher form. aims to treat
a literature as a whole, and endeavours to trace
the several and successive stages of its development;
to discover the various causes, political, social, educational, religious, to which the productions of any
period owe their peculiarities. Such an aim also embraces a comparison of the genius and productions of
authors: of the same period and of different periods.
It is also within its scope to trace the development of
ideas relative to literary art, and the different views
held at different periods as to the legitimate functions
of the several departments of Literature. There is no
study more interesting than this, treating, as it does,
of the infinite phases and attitudes which the human
mind presents under different circumstances, and yet
remaining in all places and in all times, essentially the
same. But it is a difficult and ambitious task, even
when undertaken by men of the widest and ripest
(15)




16    ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.
knowledge, the deepest imaginative insight, and the
subtlest analytical power. The present century has
produced perhaps not more than two men capable of
writing a history of the development of English
Literature; I allude to Thomas De Quincey and Samuel
Taylor Coleridge. That they possessed the requisite
qualifications no one who is intimately acquainted
with their writings can deny; and from their writings
it is also evident that their powers pointed in this
direction as the one most favourable to their fullest
and most genial exercise.
A less ambitious aim in literary study, is the study
of individual productions as distinct works of art,
without any special regard to their relative value and
historical significance. To take a poem, for instance,
and discover the secret of its resthetic power, and the
various elements of this power, is something within
the reach of any one of ordinary emotional appreciation and analytical skill. Such a study requires
for its successful prosecution no very extensive knowledge of general literature, and no great powers of
analysis and synthesis, and is, of course, the indispensable preparation for the higher study I have mentioned. But true to a principle which seems to underlie our present systems of rapid education,-namely,
to rush, at once, "in medias res,"-the History of English Literature is often studied in our Institutions of
learning, before there is any, not even the most superficial, acquaintance with individual productions. If




ON THE STIUDY OP LITIRA TURE.    1T
they are studied at all, they are usually studied in
fragments, in the shape of "Beautiful Extracts," or' Moral Passages," and the advantage derived from the
study of organisms is thus entirely forfeited. The
one mode is as inferior to the other, as the study of
bits of china would be, to contemplating the beautiful
and graceful vase of which they once formed parts.
In the study of the mere material, we lose sight of the
beautiful form into which the artist has: moulded it,
It is by the form which he has given to his manifold
material, and which is the basis of all high aesthetic
impression, that he is to be estimated. What has he
made or moulded out of his material? is the question to
be asked. How has he organized it, and with what
results? With what success has he brought all details
under the pervading, vitalizing influence of a dominant
idea, causing them to impart to his work a richness and
an intense vitality? Has he wisely rejected everything
superfluous, or are there excrescences which contribute
nothing to the general moral impression? Is his
rhetoric in the web of his thought, or is it only sewed
on, like gold lace on a coat? Are his thoughts
evolved with a skilful and graceful transition from
one to the other? or are they abrupt, insulated, capricious, with little or no law of succession? No number of brilliant passages will compensate for a deficiency in the organic unity and vitality of a work.
The elements are nothing without "the atmosphere
that moulds, and the dynamic forces that combine,"




18    ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.
There is no objection, however, to storing the
memory with the beautiful passages of concentrated
energy with which the higher poetry in the contriving spirit of its eloquence, abounds. The more of
such passages every one has at his command, the
better. No means, however superficial, for increasing
our familiarity with the ideal world of Poetry, should
be discouraged. Converse with Poetry should not be
regarded merely as an elegant and refined pastime, -
but as an essential to our spiritual life, as bread is to
our physical life. Without its kindly influence, life
becomes sordid, selfish, and commonplace. Daily intercourse with the great Masters of Song is also the
best safeguard against the temptations which beset us
in the world of current literature. The most popular
works the press sends forth are those which gratify an
appetite for the surprising and the thrilling. "It is
of the greatest importance," says John Ruskin, "not
only for Art's sake, but for all kinds of sake, in these
days of book-deluge, to keep out of the salt-swamps
of literature, and live on a little rocky island of your
own, with a spring and a lake in it pure and good."
Let Poetry, then, be studied and communed with in
every possible way. It will do nobody any harm.
But in a system of mental and aesthetic culture, the
leading design should be, the study of poems and
other literary art-products, as organisms, which are to
be comprehended, not in their parts only, but in their
totality. The more intense a man's intellectual and




ON TIE ST UDY OF LITERA TURE.    19
emotional life becomes, the more he demands effects
produced by the organization of manifold elementselements fused by the alchemy of the imagination into
a new and living whole, whose synthesis calls forth
that harmonious energizing of the soul, which constitutes its highest life and delight.
But let it not be supposed that the pleasure derived
from the productions of Poetry or of any other of the
fine arts, is due to a conscious energizing to comprehend them. The pleasure derived from a work of the
imagination is in proportion to the degree of unconsciousness with which all its appeals are responded to.
Works which strictly belong to Literature, -that is,
works which speak to the understanding through the
emotions,- should not be read, of course, as those
which address the insulated understanding, We must
come to the reading of the former, for the first time,
in the least self-conscious state possible; we must
avoid analysis as much as we can, and place ourselves
passively under the influence of our author.
"We get no good,"
says Mrs. Browning, in her "Aurora Leigh,"
"By being ungenerous, even to a book,
And calculating profits... so much help
By so much reading. It is rather when
We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge
Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound,
Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth-'Tis then we get the right good from a book."




20    ON THE STUDY OP LITERATURE.
The sensibilities are the peculiar domaiun of the
Fine Arts, and by a transcendent preeminence of thle
greatest of the Fine Arts -Poetry; and if, by a premature analysis, the sensibilities are not allowed their
requisite play, the leading purpose of a work of the
Imagination is defeated. We should not attempt analysis until we have received an emotional impression
from the whole;' in some cases, many emotional impressions, according to the extent of a work, and the
degree of its sensuousness. We may then seek to
discover the various elements of this impression, and
by a more conscious and intimate knowledge of the
respective functions of these elements, attain to a
higher impression from the whole. This higher impression will lead to a still more minute analysis by
which we shall discover subtler elements of effect
which the first analysis did not reveal. This more
minute analysis will be followed by a still higher impression from the whole; and thus the process will
continue of an alternation of general impression and
analysis until we have grown up to the work, as it
were: we fully respond to the emotional appeal made
by the artist; we grasp his work in its entireness; that
which was at first consciously and with effort,
received, reaches in time higher and subtler organs
of discernment, where is breathed the purer air of
unconsciousness and spontaneity.
Make, for example, the "Locksley Hall" of Tennyson. On the first reading of this "grand hymn of




ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.    21
human progress," the magnificent swell of the rhythm,
and the richness of the melody, will be likely to produce the most decided impression. In other words,
the first impression will be, what it should be to a
great extent in every true poem, a sensuous one - accompanied, of course, by a general understanding of
the poem. With this impression, we may be content
for a number of readings, and not be disposed to look
further into the poem, especially if we happen to take
it up in a passive mood. At another time, when we
are more disposed to be analytical, we may fix our
attention upon the picturesqueness and passion of the
language, the imagery, the lights and shades of the
thoughts, and the suggestiveness of the vowel sounds,
for in Poetry, words are not merely representatives of
ideas, but are ivied over with emotional associations.
The syntactical construction, even, will claim some
attention, for this latter feature presents a number of
difficulties in "Locksley Hall."
When the results of all these observations and the
several impressions derived therefrom, shall have
been absorbed in the general impression, we shall be
disposed to penetrate still further-we shall endeavour
to supply all the connecting links of the thought and
feeling —and in the poem in question they are remarkably subtle — to discover how the poet, in the
intensity of his inspiration, passed from one thought
or one feeling to another thought or another feeling.
A great poet, giving expression to a subtle and comrn



22    ON THE STU'DY OF LITERATUREs
plex sentiment, must necessarily be obscure to the
ordinary reader, in whom such sentiment exists only
potentially, and with its elements uncombined. It is
not in the simple elements that one individual mind
differs from another, but in their degree, and in the
nature of their combination. The emotions which the
great poet, or painter, or musician, experiences, are
more complex than those experienced by men in gene.
ral; and when they are expressed in words, in marble,
in colours, or in sounds, it requires at first, an effort,
and frequently, a long-continued effort, to go over the
process of their combination, and clearly to apprehend
the leading sentiment which was the controlling principle of the association
Imagination does not differ essentially from ordinary
thinking —it follows the same laws, but those laws
are more actively and harmoniously in force. It is
ordinary thinking intensified. Imagination, to be sure,
is always impassioned, which ordinary thinking is not;
but that is the natural consequence of its intensity'
the depths of the whole nature are stirred by it.
Every true poem is a piece of articulate music,
which an ordinary Imagination must long practice
upon before it can play it with a sufficient degree of
spontaneousness and unconsciousness, to derive from
it all the pleasure it is capable of imparting. The
same process goes on in the contemplation of a picture
or a statue-at first view the impression it produces
may be quite an indifferent one; but repeated impres



ON 0Tr I   STUD Y OP LITERATURE.    23
slons, each deepened by an analysis of previous ones,
will finally fuse, if the work possesses a consistent, congruous unity, into one compound and harmonious
feeling. As in the case of the poem, we grow up to
the work. We grasp it as a whole and spontaneously.
We are fully informed in regard to the work. Our
feelings have been gradually tuned to respond to its
emotional appeal.
Art owes its power chiefly to the magic garment
of form, and not to what it explicitly teaches. The
principle which underlies true art, and which the
artist must consciously or unconsciously-recognize, is
that which Mrs. Browning has so happily expressed:
"paint a body well,
You paint a soul by implication, like
The grand first Master."
Art educates, but it does not aim directly to instruct
or indoctrinate. Its great function is to keep alive
man's sensibilities and instincts, and thus to fit him
for the perception of high spiritual truths.: It is thus
that Poetry and all the Fine Arts work moral results.
The true Artist is an implicit, not an explicit teacher
and moralist.
"The only real instructor of the humaf race," says
Orestes Brownson, "is the artist; and it is as artists,
as men wrought up to the intensest life, and therefore
acting from the full force of their being, that all the
great and univbrsally admitted philosophers have been
able to quicken the race and set it forward to. higher




24    OXN THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.
and more comprehensive life. No man is really a
philosopher till warmed up into the artist. Here is
the sacredness of art, and the explanation of the fact,
that the highest truths are always uttered by men
when under the influence of the loftiest and most
genuine Imagination."
There is a final stage at which we arrive in the
study of a great poem, though modern criticism is too
much inclined to make it the introductory one. When
we are fully informed in regard to a work of the Imagination, in the way that has been pointed out, and in
the art-sense of the word, we are disposed to go further-to seek in the artist's forms an undercurrent of
meaning, to make them typical of ideas which do not
essentially and absolutely belong to them. Into whatever recommends itself by the beauty of its form, the
Imagination loves to infuse its own conceptions —to
make it the casket of its own jewels, thus enriching
it beyond its own intrinsic value. But we must not
forget that although the Imagination may make this
use of what it lovingly embraces by reason of its
beauty of form, this beauty of form is an end to itself,
andfor itself was created by the artist, if he wrought
it in a true artist spirit. All works of genius are
richly suggestive, and are characterized by a flexibility of significance which often leads critics of a
philosophic turn of nmind to attribute to their authors
definite purposes which they perhaps never dreamt
of.  The German critics, (though the best in the world,




0 N THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.    25
certainly far superior to the English and French,) from
a disposition to see further into a millstone than the
nature of a millstone will allow, run sometimes into
ridiculous extremes in regard to what they are so fond
of designating the ldea of a work. To be assured of
this fact, we have but to read the Shakspearean criticisms of Dr. Ulrici, in many respects marked by great
ability, and the numberless criticisms which have
appeared on Goethe's Wilhelm  Mlieister and Faust.
Goethe seems to have understood this tendency of his
countrymen to dig for mysteries, and to have written
the Second Part of Faust to give them plenty to do in
that line for some generations. Certainly the interest
which attaches to the Second Part of Faust is rather a
philosophical than an art interest. It is in the interpreting of its symbolism that the critics are chiefly
interested, and not in the wealth of its poetic life, for
this has been justly denied the Second Part of Faust,
unsurpassed as is the First Part as a production of the
poetic faculty.
The legitimate interest which attaches to Art's
forms, is an emotional interest, and is, in consequence,
immeasurably higher in its nature than any merely
intellectual interest could possibly be.
"One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach us more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can."
Herein consist the sacredness and loftiness of Art,
that its grand function is to bring into play and pre.
8




6 N THE ST UDY OF LITERATURE.
serve in an healthful activity, the emotional side of
our nature. Man is greater as an emotional than as
an intellectual being. The sensibilities are the soil in
which fll his moral qualities have root and flourish.
But in a high state of civilization where the efforts
requisite to procure the necessaries and luxuries of
life, tend to sharpen men's wits at the expense of their
sensibilities, special means are necessary to keep the
latter alive, and this is done most effectually by the
Fine Arts —by Music, by the Drama, by Painting, and
imore especially, by Poetry and other forms of Literature.  All these are, or should be, the handmaids of
Religion.
The highest, noblest, and most attractive order of
manhood, is that wherein a just equilibrium  is preserved between the intellect and the emotions. George
Sand has well remarked, that for civilization to attain
its highest perfection, man must become more womanly,
and woman more manly.  Tennyson has expressed
the same idea in "The Princess."  Speaking of the
mutual relations of the sexes, the Prince is made to
say: -
- " in the long years liker must they grow;
The man be more of woman, she of man;
tie 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."
All the great seers of the race have realized to an
extent this condition-have been a well-poised duality




ONf THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.    21
of the highest manhood and the highest womanhoodl
To a profound and refined sensibility to the influences
of nature and of human life, they have united the
highest discursive and analytical power. The sensibilities are the basis of the intuitional and the pro.
phetic; through them man feels the truth before he
knowzs it; and a condition of his knowing it, that is,
defining it to his intellect, is, that he possess the requisite power to analyze the material furnished by his
emotional nature. Emotion reaps the spiritual harvest, intellect gathers it into sheaves, threshes it,
winnows the grain from the chaff, and makes it into
nourishing bread. If the intellect fail to perform its
part of the labour, the swarth rots in the field, and the
intellect pays the penalty of its inaction, by famine,
and a life-in-death listlessness. It has, also, to lay up
provisions, not only for the summer, but for the winter.
Though emotion may be an active workman, as long
as it serves the intellect, yet, unless it be well cared
for, it grows torpid in the cold weather, and the
intellect must depend wholly upon the acquisitions of
the spring and summer's work; and if these have not
been sufficiently extensive, it too must experience
winter's torpifying colds. Upon the life of the one,
depends the life of the other. Neither can healthfully
and vigourously exist by itself.
To preserve a proper equilibrium between the in.
tellect and the sensibilities, is, perhaps, in the present
organization of society, impossible. The circumstances




28    ON TfE - STUD Y OF LITERA T URE.
which beset the life of every one, tend to a one-sidedness of development. In fact, without a certain degree
of one-sidedness in the individual, the various departments of human thought and learning would make
but little progress. The- absolute good of the individual, it seems, must be sacrificed to the good of society;
at any rate, until political wisdom shall have devised
means for reconciling the one with the other. But, in
an abstract view, an emotional one-sidedness is preferable to an intellectual one-sidedness. A man may have
scaled the loftiest heights of metaphysics; he may have
attained to the highest generalizations which are within
the possibilities of the human intellect; he may have
weighed the stars, and measured their appalling distances; he may have descended into the bowels of the
mountain, and found written there, in hieroglyphics
of unmistakable meaning, the vast ages our planet has
been dipping forward under sunshine and starry light;
he may have learned the names and habits, the genera
and species, of all the beasts of the field, and the fowls
of the air, and of the creatures that inhabit the mighty
deep; he may, by a subtle chemistry, have resolved
all matter into its primitive elements; he may have
seized the lightning and forced it to carry his messages,
in the twinkling of an eye, to the most distant corners
of the earth; but, if the soft blue sky did never melt
into his heart; if he never felt the witchery of the soft
blue sky; if, like Wordsworth's Peter Bell,




ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.    29
"A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose be to him,
And it be nothing more;"
if he has never been moved by the mysteries of the
springtime, or dreamed amid the leafy pomps of summer; if his soul has never been softened, and filled
with a luxurious sadness, by the departing glories and
dreamy melancholy of the autumn woods; if he has
never experienced a wild and strange delight in the
desolation and the howling blasts of winter; if he be
a stranger to the divine and rapturous joys of which,
through music, faint and sly glimpses are sometimes
caught; if he has never dreamed over some landscape,
on the canvas of a great master, bathed in
"A light that never was on sea or land,"
or stood rapt before a figure of ideal loveliness; if
his pulse has never been quickened, and his heart
made to beat proudly by the radiant smiles and affectionate greetings of a wife and children, after a day's
rude commerce with the world; if, though ruthlessly
deprived by Death of every earthly tie, he has not
felt, that
"'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all,"he is, in spite of all his vast intellectual conquests, a
very one-sided creature, and has but fed on husks,
while many a poor servant in his father's house has
had bread, enough and to spare.
But reverse the picture, Suppose him to be aca*




30   ON THE STUDY OF LITERATURE.
quainted with all these emotional experiences, but to
be totally ignorant of the great conquests and triumphs
of the intellect; in the latter case, we would not consider him as one-sided as in the former; we would be
disposed to regard him, not as one who had had but a
beggarly heritage, but as one of the highly favoured
of the children of men.
It was to express his profound conviction of this
truth, that William Wordsworth wrote the most beautiful sonnet in our Literature:
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for every thing, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea,
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.




PART II.
VOCAL CULTURE.
A N indispensable condition of an sesthetic appreciation of high poetry, is, that it receive an
adequate vocal expression. Without a high vocal
culture, -without the highest vocal culture, - the
study of poetry must be more or less imperfect. To
say nothing of other elements of poetry which demand
a vocal expression, for their proper appreciation, the
musical element, which constitutes in the higher poetry so large a portion of the sentiment, and imparts
that indefiniteness which attaches to all the productions of the Imagination, can alone be fully appreciated
when adequately expressed by the voice. When I
speak of the musical element of poetry, I mean, of
course, all the subtle effects produced by the rhythm,
by the variation of successive vowel sounds, by the
rhyme, by the varied length of the lines, by pauses,
by the acceleration and retardation of the verse, by
the distribution of emphasis, and many other elements
(31)




32             0OCAL CULTURE.
of effect, some of which are unrecognizablc and beyond
the reach of analysis. Without the aid of tile voice,
all the charms and subtle effects derivable from these
elements, must be lost in a great measure to the majority of silent readers.
There are, no doubt, readers of poetry, whose imagination of its musical suggestiveness sufficiently
compensates for the absence of a vocal expression.
But these must constitute a very limited class. With
the great majority, much of the aroma of poetry must
evaporate in silent reading.
Mrs. Siddons is said to have studied her greatest parts
silently. This, we must suppose, she was enabled to do
through her imagination of their elocution, and she
possessed by nature, such a remarkable power over the
organs of speech that she could always rely upon them
in giving utterance on the stage, to her nicest conceptions. Dr. Rush speaks of her voice as "a mirror for
every trait of natural expression, in which one might
recognize his deep, unuttered sympathy, and love the
flattering picture as his own. All that is smooth,"
he adds, "and flexible, and various in intonation, all
that is impressive in force, and in long-drawn time,
all that is apt upon the countenance, and consonant
in gesture, gave their united energy, gracefulness,
grandeur, and truth, to this one great model of Ideal
Elocution. Hers was that height of excellence, which,
defying mimicry, can be made imaginable only by
being equaled.




VOCAL CULTURE.                  33
"Such was my enthusiastic opinion, before a scrutiny
into speech had developed a boundless scheme of
criticism and instruction; which, in admitting that
nature may hold within her laws, the unrevealed power
of producing occasional ihstances of rare accomplishment of voice; yet assures us, that nothing but the
influence of some system of principles, founded on a
knowledge of those laws, can ever produce multipled
examples of excellence, or give to any one the perfection of art. There is a pervading energy in Observative Science which searches, discovers, gathers-together,
co-arranges, still amplifies and completes; and which
all the means of untrained effort can never reach." *
Some of the greatest poets, who exhibit in their
poetry the nicest sense of all the elements of musical
expressiveness, are known to have been very imperfect, monotonous readers. Coleridge is an example.
"Amongst Coleridge's accomplishments," says De
Quincey, alluding, in his "Literary Reminiscences,"
to Coleridge's lectures on Poetry and the Fine Arts,
at the Royal Institution, "good reading was not one;
he had neither voice, nor management of voice." And
yet, how wonderfully has he incarnated his sentiment
in his versification! — " Of the soul, the body form
doth take."  Witness his Christabel, especially the
First Part, his Ancient Mariner, his Kubla Khan, his
Genevieve, his Youth and Age, and numerous other
of his poems.
* "The Philosophy of the Human Voice, 5th edition, p. 396.




34            VOCAL CULTURE.
Byron's reading, too, according to Medwin, was a
sing-song; and the present Laureate of England, the
musical effects of whose poetry in suggesting subtlety
of feeling, have never been surpassed, is said to read
like a school-boy. Edgar Poe is represented to have
been a most monotonous, uninteresting reader, and
yet he composed one of the most melodious poems in
our Literature. I allude to his Ulalume, which is as
beautifully, strangely, and significantly modulated as
it is possible for language to be.
But it would be absurd to suppose that these poets
did not appreciate their own melodies when they produced them; -that they were mere passive,Eolian
harps, giving forth sounds to which they themselves
were deaf. They no doubt had a profounder sense of
them as conductors of feeling, than the- most perfect
reader would be able to express. This being the case,
why did their reading so belie their conceptions? The
answer is easily given, and it affords the best argument against the sticklers for what is called natural
reading, namely, that the fullest appreciation of a poem,
and the most searching sense of all its subtlest elements of effect, are totally inadequate to a proper
vocal expression of it, where the organs of speech are
not in perfect obedience to the will and the feelings.
This obedience can only be secured by long and careful culture. The conscious observance of principles
and rules, must become unconscious and spontaneous.
A poet's organs of speech are as likely to be rigid




VOCAL CUL TURE.:35
and unmanagable as those of a boor, and in such case,
no decree of imagination and feeling will render them
flexible without special culture.
We often hear the advice given, and it frequently
constitutes about all that some professors of the art
have to impart on the subject, "Enter into the spirit
of what you read, read naturally, and you will read
well."
This constitutes the sum and substance of what the
learned Bishop Whately teaches on the subject in his
"Elements of Rhetoric." In Part IV., Chap. II., ~ 2,
of this work, he says: "Nature, or custom, which is a
second nature, suggests spontaneously the different
modes of giving expression to different thoughts, feelings, and designs, which are present to the mind of
any one who, without study, is speaking in earnest his
own sentiments. Then, if this be the case, why not
leave nature to do her own work?"  This question
may perhaps be satisfactorily answered by asking
another: If reason is a natural gift of man, and no
one will deny that it is, why did the learned Arch.
bishop of Dublin take the trouble to write such a
good book as he did on the science and art of reason.
ing? Why did he not leave nature to do her own
work? The gift of reason can hardly be more perverted than the gift of speech, and if earnestness is
all that is required to give an unrestrained play'to the
functions of the latter, why should it not be equally
available in respect to those of the former? But every




86            VOCAL CULTURE.
one's experience will tell him that earnest reasoning is
not necessarily sound reasoning -it often shoots very
far from the mark.
"Impress but the mind," the Archbishop goes on to
say, "fully with the sentiments, &c. to be uttered;
withdraw the attention from the sound, and fix it on
the sense; and nature, or habit, will spontaneously
suggest the proper Delivery."
Such instruction as this is not unlike that which
Hamlet gives to Guildenstern for playing upon the
flute, and would be about as efficacious:
Hamlet. Will you play upon this pipe?
Guildenstern. My lord, I cannot.
Hamlet. I pray you.
Guildenstern. Believe me, I cannot.
Hamlet. I do beseech you.
Guildenstern. I know no touch of it, my lord.
Hamlet.'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages
with your finger and thumb, give it breath with your
mouth, and it will discourse most' eloquent music.
Look you, these are the stops.
Guildenstern. But these cannot I command to any
utterance of harmony: I have not the skill.
Walking, it will be admitted, is as natural a function as talking and reasoning, and much more easily
performed. When we study the wonderful mechanism
of the human body, the inference is readily drawn
that Nature designed that all our movements should
be in the highest degree graceful. But so far is this




VOCAL CULTURE.                 87
from being the case, that scarcely one person in a
thousand knows how to walk with any degree of
grace. In our movements, as in the exercise of our
vocal and reasoning powers, we have all gone astray,
and it is only by special training, based upon principles deduced from careful observation, that we can
realize Nature's purposes. Science and art do not
attempt anything different from these purposes, but
only aim to fulfil them more effectually.
Milton says of Eve, when fresh from the hands of
her Creator,
" Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye,
In every gesture, dignity and love."
But her sons and daughters have long lost the prima3val grace and dignity. They exist only in marble
and on canvas.
Now every one will be ready to admit that the advice given to one who walks clumsily and awkwardly,
to enter into the spirit of the act, to be in earnest, and
to walk naturally, would be very inadequate to the
case. A more availing and rational advice would bedevelop all the functions of the body in a way that
they will be exercised harmoniously and without
restraint; but not till then can graceful movements
and attitudes be expected. Education can create nothing. It can only develop what exists potentially
and in germ. All the functions which we exercise,
moral, intellectual, and physical, are more or less un4




V88          FVOCAL CULTURER,
developed and shackled, and education aims, or should
aim, to promote their growth, to remove the shackles,
and thus to lift man into an atmosphere of freedom
and spontaneity. Principles and rules which are at
first objective, must become subjective. Growth of every
kind proceeds from the passive to the active and the
spontaneous. Man is passive to the degree that he is
undeveloped. As he develops, he becomes more and
more a law to himself. The law that was at first
written upon tablets of stone is gradually transferred
to his mind and his heart; and he may finally break
the tablets and forget their existence.
Of all our faculties,-physical, at least,-that of
speech is, perhaps, the most imperfectly developed,
and is, in consequence, less a law to itself, and the
most dependent upon outside principles and rules for
its efficient exercise-a fact which the ancient Greeks
and Romans recognized and acted upon far more than
we do. The great importance which they attached to
vocal culture was, indeed, attributable to causes which
do not now exist to the same extent. The mystery of
printing had not yet been discovered. An ambitious
politician could not bawl out a speech in the forum,
in violation of all the laws of effective utterance, as
our legislators do, with nobody to hear him, and have
ten thousand copies printed off and sent to his constituents, and all free of expense to himself, in the bargain. No l he had to face his constituents, and say
what he had to say, in the most accomplished manner.




VOCAL CULTURE.                   39
The Athenian orator owed the success of his speech
as much to its vocal delivery as to its matter; and if
the former was not of a character to please his susceptible countrymen, he spoke in vain. But if the same
causes do not now exist for the highest vocal culture,
there are others which do, and which are infinitely
more weighty. The Greek and Roman religion was a
mere cultus, with nothing to teach. But the Christian
religion is distinguished from all others by its being
a religion of the Book, by its teaching of doctrines,
and this teaching is done throughout all Christendom
chiefly through the medium of the voice. And yet,
strange to say, the grand importance of a special vocal
culture for an effective discharge of this great office,
is almost entirely overlooked! Were the voices of
those destined for the sacred ministry of Christ carefully tuned for the delivery of the great spiritual truths
which they are commissioned to promulgate, what an
increased vitality, and power, and impressiveness,
would be imparted to their teachings! The Bible too
-what a new life could be given to it, were all the
capabilities which it possesses for effective reading,
fully developed by an accomplished voice-capabilities greater, even if we regard it in its purely literary
character, than those possessed by any other book!
" 0 the holiness of their living, and the painfulness
of their preaching," exclaims the old English divine,
Thomas Fuller. The good man used the word painfiulness in a sense different from its present: he meant




40             VOCAL CULTURE.
that the early apostles took great pains in their preach.
ing. "Many things," says Archbishop Trench, "would
not be so'painful' in the present sense of the word,
if they had been more'painful' in the earlier, as perhaps some sermons." To carry this remark a little
further, many sermons would not be so painful in the
present sense of the word, if the cultivation of the voice
were made a more prominent feature of theological
education. Vocal culture seldom constitutes a part
of the organism of our colleges and theological schools.
It is an outside thing, wholly incidental. A travelling
elocutionist will happen to come along, a mere adventurer -- an unworthy disciple of Thespis, perhaps,
with a very slim intellectual outfit. He proposes to
work miracles. A class is accordingly formed among
the students, for a course of ten lessons, it may be.
Some exercises in articulation are bawled over, which,
in the words of Othello, "frighten the isle from its
propriety."  The self-styled professor pockets their
money, obtains some extravagant testimonials to the
excellence of his system, from the D.D.'s and LL.D.'s
of the college, and goes on his way, rejoicing, and the
unfortunate students are again left to shift for themselves until some other adventurer comes along, to
hoodwink them again with professions of miracleworking.
"If any one would sing," says Ware, "he attends a
master, and is drilled in the very elementary principles; and only after the most laborious process, dares




VOCAL CULTURIE.                 41
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 were devoting
himself to the organ, what months and years would he
labour, 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."
"The art of reading well," says Dr. Rush, in his
"Philosophy of the Human Voice," "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, disap.
pointed 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
4*




42             VOCAL CULTURE.
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 apprehension; being forced into an
attempt to do that, without instruction, which he came
purposely to learn; and furnishing amusement to his
classmates, 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 abominable 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 contribute to the
halls of fashion and wealth, their most refined source
of gratification; who sometimes quell the pride of
rank, by a momentary sensation of envy; and who




VOCAL CULTURE.                 48
draw forth the admiration, and receive the crowning
applause of the Prince and the Sage."
The prescribed limits of this Essay will not allow
me to carry this subject further than merely to advert
to one other point-namely, the importance of a careful vocal culture, and, what must always accompany
it, a thorough study of the English language and
literature, in our female seminaries. Were but half
the time devoted to these subjects that is now spent in
acquiring a barren smattering of the French language,
and of the sciences, how inestimably superior would
be the result! The study of her vernacular is a sacred
duty devolving upon every woman who would be true
to the peculiar mission of her sex. Let her acquire as
many foreign tongues as she pleases — the more the
better-but she must not, and cannot, justifiably, neglect her native tongue; for to her, more than to man,
belongs the high duty of transmitting it to the succeeding generation in its idiomatic purity, free from the
affectations and conceits which characterize the diction
of the multitudinous productions of would-be authors.
Every woman whose station permits it, should know,
and learn to appreciate, all in her native literature that
is excellent, forcible, and graceful in style, and pure
and beautiful and noble in sentiment; and more than
this, she should cultivate that vocal expression of it
which would carry it with potency to the hearts of her
children.
Great is the moral influence which woman's voice




44             VO CAL C7ULTURE.
exerts in her family, in society, and in all the relations
and responsibilities of life; but the possibilities of this
moral influence, which remain to be developed, have
hitherto been hardly suspected.
A lady will bestow great care upon her hand, and
it is very proper that she should, for among beautiful
things, a well-shaped, graceful, and fair hand, certainly
does not occupy the lowest rank, and is by no means
to be despised. She will jealously guard her face
against the effects of sun and wind, with which, also,
nobody can find fault; — but how seldom does she
think of the power so mighty to charm that lies slumbering in her voice I
When we regard the transcendent personal attractions which nature sometimes bestows upon her favourites, we feel "the might, the majesty of loveliness;" but,
alas! how often is the clasping charm rudely unlocked,
and the numbing spell thawed, when we hear these
angels speak  We wonder that so much harshness
can be united with so much beauty.
And then, again, we will meet with one, with whom
nature has dealt less generously in the bestowal of
personal charms, but whose voice, soft and winning,
comes upon us as the dew upon the hill of Ilermon.
She is idealized by her voice. We see her, not as she
actually is, but in a transfiguring light, which softens
and symmetrizes many an irregularity of feature and
a disproportion of person.
Shakspeare, who has left nothing unsaid, bears a




VOCAL CULTURE.                    45
most affecting witness to the power of woman's voice,
in that passage, the sublimest in its pathos which the
literature of this world has to show, wherein the heartbroken and desolate old king bewails the death of his
daughter Cordelia. By her angelic ministrations, she
had become to him, when robbed of every earthly
consolation and hope, the only object of interest and
affection in the world.  While bending over her lifeless form, he mutters to himself these touching words:
"IIer voice was ever soft,
Gentle and low; an excellent thing in woman."
As the Past glinted through the distracted mind of
the desolate father, nothing vibrated so musically in
his memory as the voice of this dear girl. With it was
associated all her
"Little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love."
If the principle of criticism which I have briefly
set forth in the First Part of this Essay be admitted,
namely, that every literary art-product, especially
every true poem, must be at first received in as passive
a state as possible, that the feelings must ever be the
pioneers of the judgment, and that to them must be
committed the gathering of material for the discursive
understanding, it follows, that that reading of a poem
which would not only mirror, but amplify and complete
the poetic feeling of the hearer, would be the best
preparation that could be afforded for the after-work




46            VOCAL CULTURE.
of analysis, and its ultimate purpose, a higher and
more comprehensive synthesis of thought and feeling.
No other means in the absence of an adequate imagination, (and such an imagination inust be extremely
rare,) can be employed to reveal all the sly, lurking,
and subtle elements of suggestiveness which must be
felt before they can be successfully analyzed and
grasped in their entireness.
Vocal culture, I repeat, must go hand in hand with
the study of Literature. The vocal expression of the
higher Poetry, whose forms constitute so large an
element of the sentiment, and are in fact the very
incarnation of the sentiment, is as indispensable to its
fullest appreciation, as is the vocal or instrumental
expression of music. These forms can seldom be imagined - they must be expressed by the voice, before
they can be fully recognized and responded to. And
the teacher or literary lecturer, who is able to give to
his class or his audience an adequate vocal expression
of a poem, will thus render it more appreciable than
if he were to preach about it in grandiloquent language
for a week. It is vain to analyze what has not been
felt to some extent —be it a poem or a picture, or
whatever else demands an emotional response; and
however limited any one's ability to feel may be, it
should first be brought into play, and repeatedly, before any analysis is attempted.
It must never be forgotten that the analysis of poetic
forioa has an end beyond itself- and that end is, to




VOCAL CULTURE.                       47
widen spontaneous and unconscious receptivity. To
resolve the forms into which the Poet has cast his conceptions, into their elements, and to make these elements
distinct objects of thought, is not of itself sufficient to
appreciate those forms wEsthetically-but it serves to
nourish, so to speak, the unconscious and spontaneous
recognition and appreciation of those forms. Conscious
analysis must bloom into unconscious synthesis, or it
fails of its end.
CONCLUDING REMARKS.
IT was not my purpose in the preceding essay, to set forth any
principles and rules, or to give any special exercises, for the cultivation of the voice. Furthermore, I have no faith in the efficacy of the vague generalities, and common-place instructions in
which an author must necessarily indulge, (whatever may be
his qualifications as a Vocal Philosopher,) who is confined to the
prescribed limits of an Introduction to a book having for its
special purpose the furnishing only of good material for vocal
expression. The grand science of the human voice cannot be
compressed into the limits of a nut-shell; and the earnest student, who, in the absence of the living teacher, searches for aid
in the few introductory pages usually devoted to elocutionary
instruction in ordinary "Readers," will be sadly disappointed.
If he ask for bread, he will receive a stone. He will be presented
with some unintelligible jargon about "abdominal muscles,"
"throat tones," " chest tones," and "head tones;"-some grave
faults in pronunciation will be pointed out to him, such as only
the most illiterate are guilty of; - he will be told that a parenthesis should be read more rapidly, and in a lower tone than the
surrounding parts; — that antithetical words should receive different inflections, that one affection of the voice is used to ex



48           CONCL UDING REMARKS.
press this kind of feeling, and another that; —that he must
pause sufficiently at the end of a poetical verse, to mark its individuality as a verse, and exhibit the rhyme (advice which he
will probably not believe a wtord of, if he happens to know anything about the secrets of melody); — that one set of sentiments,
emotions, and passions require a high key, another a medium
key, and another, a low key, etc., etc.; and finally, as summing
up all, that he must read naturlally, and as if he were speaking
to some one. It would be untrue to say that all the introductory
instruction in reading books amounts to no more than this —
but it is not untrue to say, that this is its general character.
Let the earnest student, who knows that " good things are difficult," and who strives and labours to realize a lofty standard of
vocal excellence, if he find not the living teacher who is able to
meet his wants, devote himself to a reverential study of a work
to which all writers on Elocution for the third of a century have
been indebted, and to which they themselves have added little or
nothing of importance, — I allude to "The Philosophy of the
Human Voice," by Dr. James Rush, one of the greatest productions of Observative Science of which the present century can
boast. The analysis exhibited in this profound work, will satisfy
much of the curiosity of him who desires to read the history of
his voice; "for," to adopt the words of the learned author, in
the introduction to the first edition, " I feel assured, by the result
of the rigid method of observation employed throughout the inquiry, that if science should ever come to one consent on this
point, it will not differ essentially from this record. The world
has long asked for light on this subject, It may not choose to
accept it now; but having idly suffered its own opportunity for
discovery to go by, it must, under any capricious postponement,
at last receive it here.... Truth, whose first steps should be
always vigorous and alone, is often obliged to lean for support
and progress on the arm of Time; who then only, when supporting her, seems to have laid aside his wings."