.'.•ri; ■i./.')' : :\>\ ;«!•;; ill III 'iii if ill^cv:, ■ v'MhA ■^=' ill' In 1'' 5''' if' '; •• .-•- {,l;.l;t ■ >|V ; ;■ v..', ' i!;ji!;"i;i I .mm EXERCISES '22 h ELOCUTION, i^5> EXEMPLIFYING THE RULES AND PRINCIPLES ART OF READING. By WILLIAM RUSSELL, ED. AM. JOURNAL OF EDUCATION, (FIRST SERIES,) AUTHOR OF LES- SONS IN ENUNCIATION, AND RUDIMENTS OF GESTURE. BOSTON : JENKS AND PALMER. 1841. o A \ • * *. • , - «*. - »% ^ ^"^ Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1841, BY WILLIAM RUSSELL, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. CONTENTS. Page Advertisement, ....... 9 Introduction, ....... 11 Use of Rules in teaching Elocution, Order of Instruction, 11, 12 Inflections, Emphasis, Pauses, Modulation, Cadence, Metre, 13-15 Chapter I. — Inflection. . . . . .17 General Observations on Inflection, Importance of, . ib.: New-England Accent, . . . . . .18 Definition, Rising and Falling Inflections, ... 19 Empassioned and Unempassioned '« . . .20 Circumflex — Rising and Falling; Monotone, . 21, 22 Rules — Falling Inflection, Rule I. (Emotion,) . , ib. Examples — Calling and Shouting, Abrupt Exclamation, Imperious Command, Indignant i\ddress, Challenge and Defiance, Swearing and Adjuration, Imprecation, Accusa- tion, Assertion, Assurance, Threatning, Warning, Denial, Contradiction, Refusal, Appeal, Remonstrance, Earnest In- treaty, Exhortation, Earnest Invitation, Temperate Com- mand, Admiration, Adoration, .... 23-25 IV CONTENTS. Falling Inflection, Rule II. (Force of Thought,) Rule III. (Forcible Interrogation,) . . . . , 25, 26 Rule IV. (Complete Thought,) Exception ^ (Pathos,) 27, 28 Application to Series, Concluding Series, Exception, 29 *« Answer, Antithesis, ... 30 Rising Inflection, Rule I. (Expectation,) Suspension, Connexion, . . . . . . . . 31, 32 Question, Surprise, Address, Request, Petition, Apos- trophe, Antithesis, Condition, Concession, Comparison, Connexion, Introductory Phrase, Series, . . . 33-35 Exceptions — Emphatic Expression in Interrogation, Distinction, Condition, Connexion, Introductory Phrase, Series, Surprise, Address, Interrogation, . . 35, 36 Rule II. (Pathos,) Exception, (Excessive Grief,) Rule III. (Poetic De?;cription,) Exception, (Forcible De- scription,) Rule IV. (Penultimate Clause,) Example, Ex- ception, . . . . . . . . 37, 38 Parenthesis, Examples, Exception ; Circumflex, Ex- amples, Irony, &c. 39, 40 Monotone, Examples, Reverence, Awe, Horror, Amazement, &c. . . . . . . .41 Errors in Inflection, Uniform Rising and Falling, &c. 42-44 Suggestions for Practice on Inflections, . . 45-47 Theory of Inflection, Dr. Rush, Walker, Knowles, Dr. Porter, ..... .... 48 Principles of Inflection, 49 Walker's Rules on Series, . . . . 50, 51 Exercises on Inflection — Table of Contrasted Inflections, 51, 52 '« «« Falling " Rule T. Calling, Shouting, In- di^niant Address, Challenge, Defiance, Swearing, Accusa- tion, Assertion, &c., Threatning, Warning, Denial, &c. CONTENTS. V Earnest Intreaty, Appeal, &c., Exhortation, &c., Admira- tion and Adoration, ...... 53-60 Rules II., III., IV., Complete Thought in Sentences, ia Clauses, Exceptions in Poetry; Concluding Series, Ex- ceptions; Answer, Antithesis, .... 61-65 Exercises on Rising Inflection, Rule I. — (Questions, Antithesis, Condition, &c.. Exceptions; Comparison, Excep- ception; Connexion, Exception; Introductory Phrase, Ex- ception; Commencing Series, . . . • . . 66-71 Chap. II. — Emphasis, . . . . . . 72 General Observations, Nature and Effect of Emphasis, , 73 Definition, Emphasis expressed by Accent, Absolute, Relative, Correspondent, Antithetic, Single, Double, Triple; Emphatic Phrase, ...... 73-75 Rule, 76 Errors, Omission, Slighting, Excess, Local Emphasis of New-England, 76, 77 Suggestions for Practice, ..... 77-79 Exercises on Emphasis, Absolute, Relative, &c. . 79-82 Chap. III. — Pauses, 83 General Observations, Nature and Effect of Rhetorical Pausing, 83, 84 Definition, , . , . , . . 85 Rhetorical Pauses not regulated by grammatical punc- tuation; Vocal Pauses the result of Emphasis, Illustration; Meaning and the ear, the true guides to Pausing, . 85-88 Rule I., Rhetorical Pause before a «« finite " Verb, In- tervening Phrase, Transposition, Adjectives, Pronouns, Con- junctions, &c.. Ellipsis, ..... 88-92 Rule II., (Paragraph Pause,) 92 VI CONTENTS. Errors, 92 Suggestions for Practice, 93, 94 Chap. IV. — ^^roNEs and Modulation, ... 95 General Observations, Tone in Poetry and in Prose, . ib. Definitions, Single and Successive Tones illustrated, . 96 Analysis of Single Tones, Force, Pitch, Rate; Classi- fication of Tones, Examples, ..... 96-99 Successive Tones, or Variation, Standard of, Modula- tion, Transition, Rate; Examples in Poetry and in Prose, Explanations, . . . . . . . 100-110 Errors, Sameness, Feebleness, Violence, Habitual Tone, &c 111,112 Rules I.— VI., 113, 114 Suggestions for Practice, ..... 114-117 Exercises, Single Tones, Force, Softness, Low Pitch, 118-121 '« High Pitch, Slow and Quick Rate, . 122-125 «« Middle Pitch, Moderate Force and Rate, 126, 127 '< Successive Tones, Variation, Example, (*« Sinking Ship,") Explanations, .... 128-134 Importance of Explanatory iVnalysis, . . .134 Chap. V. — Cadence, ...... 135 General Observations, Nature and EflTect of Cadence, . ib. Definition, Prevalent mistake as to Cadence, Ancient and Modern forms of Sentences, False and true Cadence, 136-138 Rules I. and II., 139, 140 Errors, Deferred Cadence, Too Low, Premature, &c., . 140 Ocular Illustrations, Remarks, . . . 141-145 Written and Spoken Sentences, Succession of Ca- dences, 145-146 Suggestions for Practice, 147, 148 CONTENTS. Vll Chap. VI. — Reading of Poetry, . . . 149 General Observations, Mode of reading Poetry, Prose, ib. Definitions, Effect of Time, Influence of Poetry on Rate, Example; Force, *' Swell " in Music and in Verse; Pitch; Prosodial Pauses, ...... 150-156 Rhythm, Illustration; Metrical Feet, Species of Verse, Stanzas and Rhyme, ...... 157-162 Influence of Verse on the Voice, Errors, Excessive Rapidity, Prosaic Utterance Rule, ...... Suggestions for Practice, , &c., . 163 164-169 . 170 170-175 Miscellaneous Exercises, ..... 177 Explanatory Statement, ..... 177-179 Exercise I. Extraordinary Memory, . . . 179 II. Character of Sir Walter Scott, . . ISO III. Paine 's escapes from the Guillotine, . 182 IV. Henry Francisco, , . . . 184 V. Miseries of War, .... 187 VI. Remarkable instance of Honesty, . 189 VII. Louis XI. and the Prior of Cosmo, . 192 VIII. Religious Character of the Tyrolese, . 195 IX. Mexican Indian Dance, v . .197 X. Modern Venice, . . . .199 XL Institution for Blind Children at Vienna, 20 1 XII. Atmosphere of Newfoundland, . . 204 XIII. Genius and Method, . . . 206 XIV. Wisdom of Providence, . . . 209 XV. Good-Nature, 214 XVI. Witchcraft, 217 XVII. Ship by Moonlight, . . . .221 VllI CONTENTS. Exercise XVIII. Thoughts at Sunrise, «« XIX. Forest Hymn, «< XX. Creation of Light, '« XXT. Scene from Comus, < « XXII. Downfall of Richard II. , «< XXIII. Scene from Kin^j John. 224 225 228 230 233 234 XXIV. " Love's Labour's Lost, 238 ADVERTISEMENT. The author of these Exercises having been repeatedly solicited by teachers and students, to prepare a manual of elocution, corresponding to his Lessons in Enunciation, respectfully offers the following pages as an aid to prac- tical instruction, or to self-cultivation. The primary design of the present work, is to embody the elementary rules of Inflection, Emphasis, and Pausing. The principles of Modulation, in oratorical and poetic expression, together with some strictures on Cadence and Metre, have been added as a sequel, to complete the course of instruction, with reference to the cultivation of the voice. The Exercises in Elocution, together with the Lessons in Enunciation, will, it is hoped, form an appropriate series of instruction in the art of Reading, for learners in schools, or for individuals desirous of pursuing the study of elocution, in the branches mentioned above. A manual on Declamation, — entitled Rudiments of Ges- ture, — (by the author and publishers of these Exercises,) has been prepared for the use of schools, and other semina- ries, in which instruction in Speaking forms a part of the course of education. The last-mentioned volume is de- signed for the assistance of adult students, as well as of younger learners. BOSTON; JUNE, 1841. INTRODUCTION. The question has often been asked, doubtingly, whether it is possible to teach the art of reading, by the use of rules. Any art which is grounded on recognised principles, may, certainly, be taught by rules deduced from these principles. Every teacher who corrects the emphasis, the inflections, or the pauses, which his pupils use in reading, must have, in every instance, a reason for his correction. All such reasons are rules; and these it is the duty of the teacher to impart. These, in fact, are themselves the instructions which he has to give. Every attentive teacher of reading, will endeavour to put his pupils in possession of even those less palpable princi- ples which regulate the nicest modulations of the voice, in the most delicate tones of feeling. But, in the applica- tions of inflection, emphasis, and pause, which determine the meaning of every sentence of audible language, a defi- nite rule is indispensable to intelligible or eflective instruc- tion. The systematic practice of elocution, requires attention, in the first place, to the acquisition of volume and pliancy of voice, vigor of organ, and -purity of tone. Next, in the order of vocal culture, is a series of exercises adapted to the formation of a forcible, clear, distinct enunciation, on the scale of public reading or speaking.^ The functions of the voice, — in its operations as an in- * Exercises intended to facilitate these elementary acqaisitionS; are embodied in the appendix to the author's Lessons in Enunciation. 12 INTRODUCTION. strument, — having been properly regulated, the next stage of instruction and practice, regards the execution of those sounds which constitute the " melody" of speech, in suc- cessive clauses and sentences, and determine their charac- ter and meaning. The act of enunciating syllables, or of pronouncing w^ords, may be performed v\^ithout reference to their signification. This forms the strictly elementary part of elocution. The utterance of clauses and sentences, implies a purpose in expression, and is founded on the relations which language bears to thought. The appropriate utterance of meaning, is the object in view in this department of elocution ; and the attention of the learner, in this stage, is directed to the notes of the scale, to the relative degrees of force, and to the occasional intermissions of voice, by which reading and speaking are rendered significant. .These subjects are comprehended under the technical designations of Inflec- tions, Emphasis, and Pauses ; and to these topics the first three chapters of the following treatise are confined. Inflections, Those significant turns of voice, which, — whether occur- ring in single words or successive phrases, — depend on difference of note, or the use of the gamut in elocution, are technically designated, "Inflections," " Slides," or " Waves.^' These phenomena of vocal sound, occur in the following among other instances : in the rise of voice with which we terminate a question that admits of a negative or a positive answer; as in the inquiry, "Have you read the book?" — in the falling tone of the answer to such a question; thus "I have:" — in the suspended tone of incomplete sense, as at the termination of the initial part of a sentence; thus, "On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my fathers, I always keep holy," — in the waving, or com- bined upward and downward turns, with which emphatic words in sarcastic exclamation, are uttered ; thus, *' I've caught 3'ou iheu at last /'' INTRODUCTION. 18 To this branch of elocution is also referred the "Mono- tone," — the utter absence of upward or downward turn. This state of voice is exemplified in the tone of awe, and similar emotions, which tend to suppress the play of utter- ance. A perfect level of sound is maintained in passages such as the following : " Night, sable goddess, from her ebon thronC; In rayless majesty now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world/' Emphasis. The relative force of expressions which are peculiarly significant, is denoted by the term "Emphasis" — a word which is arbitrarily made to stand for several qualities of voice, concentrated in a single expressive word or clause. One of the most prominent of these qualities being force, or quantity of sound, this element has, in popular accepta- tion, been regarded as the sole characteristic of emphasis. The peculiar distinction of emphatic utterance, however, usually embraces a strongly marked inflection, in conjunc- tion with special force, as may be traced in the tone of the word men, in the indignant interrogation, "Are ye men?" Pauses, The word " Pause," in its application to elocution, ex- tends to any or to all of the following circumstances, — the intermission of voice, at the usual grammatical stops; at those places w^here the sense demands a pause, though not indicated by the punctuation ; and at those where deep or powerful emotion suspends the utterance, without regard to any rule but its own instinctive law. Modulation, If we regard enunciation and pronunciation as the me- chanical part of elocution ; inflection, emphasis, and pausing, may be designated as its intellectual part. The former re- gards, chiefly, the ear, as cognizant of audible expression ; the latter regards the understanding, as addressed by intelli" 1# 14 INTRODUCTION, gible utterance, and requiring the exercise of judgment, in consecutive and rational communication. This branch of the subject extends, it is true, to some of the forms of tone which give expression to feeling ; but its chief offices are strictly intellectual, A third department of elocution embraces the considera- tion of tone, as adapted to the utterance of passion, or the strongest forms of emotion, and is designated by the techni- cal name of " Modulation." Under this term are comprehended all those modifica- tions of voice which are appropriate to empassioned expres- sion, and the changes of tone by which the reader or speaker passes from one emotion to another. This branch of the subject includes, in detail, whatever regards ^'force,^^ or intensity of voice, ^'pitch,'^^ or the predominating note of the scale, and " movement,^^ or the rate of utterance, as fast or slow. Modulation is vividly marked in those exercises of decla- mation and recitation, which embody the highest forms of eloquence and poetry. To these it is the main element of life and power. But it is not less important in its more moderate application, in the reading of all passages, whether in poetry or in prose, which are characterised by sentiment and feeling. It is the sole means of awakening sympathy, or of creating an interest in thought. Without it, reading becomes mechanical and lifeless, and fails of all its higher purposes. Cadence, or the appropriate modulation of the voice, at the close of a sentence, would, at first sight, appear to be but a mechanical modification of voice, or, at best, no more than a recom- mendation to the ear of refined taste. But, on closer ob- servation, it will be found to constitute a main element of eflfect in the expression of sentiment. It is the predominance or the frequent recurrence of a peculiar cadence, which gives character to the melody of emotion, in successive sentences ; and it is the judicious INTRODUCTION. 15 use of this turn of voice, which, most of all, deepens the impression of the feeling that pervades a composition, as a whole. The " song" of bad reading, is principally caused by an erroneous cadence. Metre. The modulation of the voice, in adaptation to different species of metrical composition, is indispensable to the appro- priate or effective reading of verse. The purest forms of poetry, become, when deprived of this aid, nothing but awkward prose. A just and delicate observance of the effect of metre, on the other hand, is one of the surest means of imparting that inspiration of feeling, which it is the design of poetry to produce. This branch of the subject, and the one immediately preceding, are but peculiar applications of Modulation, But the practical importance of both, in relation to thor- ough instruction in the art of elocution, has induced the author to treat them separately,— an arrangement which, he trusts, will be found most convenient both for students and teachers. The general plan on which this work is arranged, is as follows. To render the whole distinctly intelligible to learners, and to facilitate the use of the volume in prac- tical instruction, a chapter is assigned to each of the topics mentioned in this introduction. Each chapter contains, — 1, some general ohservcdions, explanatory of the branch of which it treats ;— 2, a definition of the subject; 3, the rules which apply to it, illustrated by examples ; 4, suggestions relating to modes of practice; 5, a selection of exercises, adapted to the rules and notes contained in each chapter. EXERCISES liN ELOCUTION, CHAPTER L INFLECTION. General Observations. The use of inflection, (or the vocal slide,) has been briefly indicated in the Introduction, as giving significance to speech, and constituting that part of modulation which is address- ed to the understanding. It ranks riext to a distinct articulation, as the means of rendering consecutive oral expression intelligible. It has, too, a certain eflect of local melody, — so to term it, — in the succes- sive 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; and the absence, or the wrong appli- cation, of these modifications of voice, indicates either a want of ear, or of right understanding as to the sense of what is read. In the reading of verse, ap- propriate inflections are the only means of avoiding the two great evils of monotony and chant. 18 INFLECTION. Reading, without inflections, becomes lifeless, as may be observed in what is usually called a '^ school- boy tone." This fault not only divests language of its meaning, but substitutes a ludicrous monotony for the natural, animated, and varied expression of the voice, in actual communication. The hearer una- voidably loses all interest in what is monotonously read; for it makes no appeal either to his feelings or to his understanding. But it is not monotony, or the mere absence of inflection, or a formal mannerism, that is the only ground of complaint, as regards the too common style of reading. The ear undisciplined by proper early training, acquires habits of false intonation, and for the appropriate slides of the voice, substitutes, often, such as are quite at variance with the sense of what is read, or utterly repugnant to the ear of cultivated taste. ^ *A striking example of this fault occurs m the prevalent use of the *« wave," double slide, or <* circumflex," in the colloquial accent, and the local reading intonation of New England, — a fault which even well educated persons often unconsciously display on the gravest occasions, although the appropriate use of the circum- flex belongs only to the language of wit, or drollery, or to sarcas- tic and ironical expression. This tone is strikingly exemplified in every emphatic word of what are popularly termed «< Yankee stories," but may be traced, in a reduced form, in the current tones of New England, whether in speaking or in reading. DEFINITION. 19 SIMPLE RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS OR SLIDES. Definition.^ Inflection, as a term applied to elocution, signifies the inclining, or sliding, of the voice, either upward or downward-! There are two simple inflections, — the upward, or losing, usually denoted by the acute accent, Q — and the downward, or falling, marked with the grave accent, Q. The former occurs in the tone of a question which admits of being answered by yes or no, or by any other form of affirmation or negation ; and the latter in that of the answer ; thus, '' Is it a difficult aflfair V'—'' Yes.'' " Will you go see the order of the course ?" — " Not r' ^^ Arm'd, say you ?" — '^^Arm^d, my lord.'* JVbfe 1. In the tones of strong emotion, the rising inflection runs up to a very high note, and the falling descends to one very low. The space traversed by the voice, in such eases, is sometimes a ^* third," * The importance of clear and correct ideas in the study of a subject new to many learners, has induced the author to adopt as systematic and exact an arrangement as possible, though at the risk, perhaps, of apparent formality. Those parts of this work which are distinguished by large type, are intended to be commit- ted to memory. On all others, the learner should be closely examined. t Teachers and students will find here, as in all other depart- ments of elocution, a copious source of instruction in Dr. Rush's elaborate work on the Philosophy of the Human Voice. 20 INFLECTION^ sometimes a ''fifth," and sometimes an ''octave," according to the intensity of emotion. Example 1. [The tone of indignant surprise, height- ened by question and contrast]: — " Shall we in your person crown the author of the public calamities, or shall we destroy him?" 2. "Hark! — a deep sound strikes like a rising knell." [Earnest, agitated inquiry]: — "Did you not hear it?" [Careless and contemptuous answer]: — "JVo.' 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o^er the stony street." 3. [Excessive impatience] : — ^^ Must 1 endure all thisV [Derisive and scornful repetition]:^ — "•^/Z thisT^ [Emphatic assertion] : — ' ' ^ye, mdre^\ JVbte 2, In unempassioned language, on the con- trary, the tone being comparatively moderate, the ia-^ flections rise and fall but slightly. The following examples, in which this diminution of inflection takes place, are so arranged that the inflections are to be reduced by successive stages, till they lose entirely the point and acuteness of the tone of question, from which they are supposed to commence, and are, at last, brought down nearly to the comparative level which they acquire in conver- sational expression, — the form in which they are oftenest employed in a chaste and natural style of reading. Example 1. Interrogation, when not emphatic; thus, " Shall I speak to him?" DEFINITION. 21 2. Contrast, Avhen not accompanied bj emotion: " They fought not for fame but freedom." 3. The expression of a condition or a supposition: ''If we would be truly happy, we must be actively useful." '' Your enemies may be formidable by their number and their power. But He who is with you is mightier than they." 4. Comparison and correspondence : ''As the beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, so is decency of behaviour a concomitant to virtue." 5. Connexion: "He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted, Victory!" 6. Continuance of thought, or incomplete expres- sion, generally: "Destitute of resources, he fled in disguise." "Formed to excel in peace, as well as in war, Caesar possessed many great and noble quali- ties." "While dangers are at a distance, and do not immediately approach us; let us not conclude that we are secure, unless we use the necessary pre- cautions against them." "To us who dwell upon its surface, the earth is by far the most extensive orb that our eyes can anywhere behold." Definition. Circumflex, or tcave. The two simple inflections, the rising and the falling, are superseded, in the tones of keen and ironical emo- tion, or peculiar significance in expression, by a double turn, or slide of voice, which unites both in one continuous sound, called the circumflex, or wave. When the double inflection thus produced ter- 2 22 FALLING INFLECTION. minates with the upward sUde, it is called the n- sing circumflex, which is marked thus (v) ; when it terminates with the downward sHde, it is called the falling cii^cumflex, — marked thus (a). These inflections occur in the following passage of ironical expression, — deriding the idea that Cae- sar was entitled to the credit of humane feeling,be- cause he could not pass the Rubicon without a pause of misgiving: '^Oh! but he paused upon the brink !" Monotone. When no inflection is used, a mon-- otone, or perfect level of voice, is produced, which is usually marked thus ( — ). This tone belongs to emotions arising from sublimity and grandeur. It characterises, also, the extremes of amazement and horror. '^ High on a throne of royal state, that far Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East, with richest hand. Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat/'^ RULES. FALLING INFLECTION. Rule I. Forcible expression requires the fall- ing inflection, as in the following instances of ener- getic emotion : earnest calling or shouting, abrupt * Farther examples of this inflection occur under the Rules on Monotone, RULE 1. 23 and vehement exclamation, imperious or energetic command, indignant or reproachful address, chal- lenge and defiance, swearing and adjuration, im- precation, accusation, — assertion, affirmation, or declaration, — assurance, threatning, warning, de- nial, contradiction, refusal, — appeal, remonstrance and expostulation, earnest intreaty, exhortation, earnest or animated invitation, temperate com- mand, admiration, adoration. Examples, Calling and shouting: '* Awake! arise! or be for ever fallen!" Abrupt exclamation: '^To arms! they come ! — the Greek, the Greek!" Imperious command: ^^ Hence ! home, you idle creatures, get you home!" Indignant address: '^You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things" — Challenge and defiance: '' I dare him to his proofs." Swearing and adjuration: *'By all the blood that fury ever breathed, The youth says well." ** I do beseech you By all the battles wherein we have fought, By the blood we have shed together, by the vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates." Imprecation : '^ Accurs'd may his memory blacken, If a coward there be that would slacken" — Accusation: ''With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat." 24 FALLING INFLECTION. Assertion, affirmation, declaration: *^We must fight, — I repeat it, sir, — we must fight." Assurance: ^' But whatever may be our fate, be as- sured, be assured that this Declaration will stand." Threatning: ''Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further." Warning: ''Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day." Denial: ''For Gloucester's death, — I slew him not, but, to my own disgrace, Neglected my sworn duty in that case." Contradiction: ^^ Brutus. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me — Cassius. I denied you not. Bru, You did. Cas, I did not"— Refusal: "Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back." Appeal: " I appeal to all who hear me, for the truth of my assertion." Remonstrance and expostulation: "Good reverend father, make ray person yours, And tell me how you would bestow yourself. This royal hand and mine are newly knit; — The latest breath that gave the sound of words, Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love. Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves; — And shall these hands so lately purged of blood. So newly joined in love, so strong in both. Unyoke this seizure and this kind regret.'*" Earnest intreaty: "Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this!" Exhortation: " Come on, then; be men." RULE II* 25 Earnest invitation: '^ Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come!" Temperate command: '^Now launch the boat upon the waves." Admiration: ''How beautiful is night!" Adoration: ** Great and marvellous are thy works. Lord God Almighty!" Rule II. The falling inflection is required in the expression of relative force of thought, as in the emphasis of contrast, wh^n one part of an antithesis is made preponderant, v^hether by affir- mation opposed to negation, or merely by compar- ative force or prominence. Examples, ''They fought not for fame but freedom." " Are you an actor in this busy scene, or are you but an idle spectator.^" "True politeness is not a mere compliance with arbitrary custom.^ It is the expression of a refined benevolence." * Teachers who have attempted to aid young learners in the practice of inflections, must have felt the difficulty of imparting a clear conception of the effect of the falling slide in examples like the above, in which its character is wholly dependent on a prece- ding or a subsequent rising inflection. To the ear of the pupil, the rising note at the end of the negative €>r less forcible sentence^ seems unnatural, from his habit of complying with the direction to **'Iet the voice uniformly fall at a period," — a direction which, from not being duly qualified, is one of the chief causes of mono- tonous and unmeaning tones in reading. It is not till the learner's attention has been attracted to the cir- cumstance of relative force, or preponderance, in the members of 2=^ 26 FALLING INFLECTION. ^^ You were paid to fight against Alexander, — not to rail at him." *' A countenance more in sorrow than.in anger." Rule III. The falling inflection terminates a/or- cible interrogation, or any form of question which does not admit of being answered by yes or no. Examples, ^^ What conquests brings he home?" ''Who's here so base that he would be a bondman?' ''When went there by an age since the great flood, But it was famed with more than with one man?" " Why should this worthless tegument endure. If its undying guest be lost for ever?" "How shall we do for money for these wars?" " Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough To mask thy monstrous visage?" Exception. Any question repeated or echoed in the tone of genuine or affected surprise. Such questions always end with the rising inflection, as in the follow- ing instances: "Where grows! — where grows it not?" "What news! Can any thing be more new, than that a man of Macedonia should lord it over all Greece?" "How accomplish it ? — certainly not by never at- tempting it!" JYote, The examples which follow the preceding rule, are classed under the general head of " forcible a comparison or a contrast, that his ear catches the true tone of meaning in such cases, and recognises the falling inflection as its appropriate characteristic, and the rising as a necessary contrast, in whatever part of a sentence they occur. RULE IV. 27 interrogation," as it is their comparative force which seems to require the falling inflection; while the form of interrogation which is answered by ijes or no, de- mands, on the principle of incompleteness or suspen- sion of thought, the rising inflection; since the circuit of thought is not completed till the answer is given, as well as the question put. That there is a comparative rhetorical force in the former species of interrogation, — that which is not answered by yes or no, — will appear by changing, in one of the above examples, the form of the question; thus, '' Is any here so base that he would be a bond- man?" — a feeble and lifeless inquiry compared to the original, ''Who's here so base," &.c. The echoing question of surprise assumes the rising inflection, because in it an ellipsis takes place, which would be supplied by a question demanding an affirma- tive or a negative answer; thus, see above ''What news!" — i. e. "What news! (did you say?)" Rule IV. Completeness of thought and ex- pression is indicated by the falling inflection, whether at the end of a sentence, or of a clause which forms perfect sense, independently of the re- mainder of a sentence.* Examples, "Human life is the journey of a day." — *' I have seen, The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind To hear him speak: matrons flung their gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs, * See Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 28 FALLING INFLECTION. Upon him as he passed; the nobles bended As to Jove's statue; and the commons made A shower and thunder, with their caps and shouts: I never saw the like." Exception, Pathetic expression and poetic descrip- tion, whether in the form of verse or of prose, require the rising inflection, even where the sense is complete, as in the following instances: '* For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share." '' Are they gone ? — all gone from the sunny hill? But the bird and the blue fly rove over it still. And the red deer bound in their gladness free, And the turf is bent by the singing bee, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow" — '^The most intimate friendship — of what brief and scattered portions of time does it consist! We take each other by the hand; and we exchange a few words and looks of kindness; and we rejoice together for a few short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we have no intercourse with each other." Jlpplication of Rule IV, to series of words and clauses. The word series in elocution is used to designate a succession of words or clauses, — amounting to any number, from two upwards, — so connected in mean- ing as to be comprehended under the same rule of syntax, by a conjunction expressed or understood. A series which is so formed that each of its mem- bers concludes, of completes, a distinct portion of the CONCLUDING SERIES. 29 sense, — so that the sentence might terminate at anj of these members without leaving the impression of an imperfect idea or an unfinished sentence, — is call- ed a cencludiiig series. A series which consi&ts of single worlds, connected as above, is called a simple series: one which com- prises several words, or a clause, in each of its suc- cessive members, is called a compound series. The following sentence contains an example of a simple concluding series of five members: ''The characteristics of chivalry, were valour, hu- manity, courtesy, justice, and honour. Example of a compound concluding series: ''The characteristics of chivalry were personal courage, humane feeling, courteous deportment, a strict regard to justice, and a high sense of honour," JVote 1. A concluding series is read, (as marked above,) with the falling inflection on every member, except the penultimate, which rises in preparation for the cadence at the close of the sentence.^ This rule holds in ail cases, except those which contain extraordinary force of expression; and, in such instances, the falling inflection prevails through- out; thus, "Eloquence is action — noble, sublime, godlike action." JVote 2. Pathetic and poetic series are excepted, throughout, from the application of Rule IV., and are read with the rising inflection on every member but the last, as in the subjoined examples. " not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, * See Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. 30 CONCLUDING SERIES. Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose. Or flocks or herds or human face divine" — *^ Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell, — Here are sweet sounds which thou 16 vest well; Flutes on the air in the stilly noon. Harps which the wandering breezes tune, And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard." ''When we have looked on the pleasures of life, and they have vanished away ; when we have looked on the works of nature, and perceived that they were changing; on the monuments of art, and seen that they would not stand; on our friends, and they have fled while we were gazing; on ourselves, and felt that we were as fleeting as they; when we have looked on every object to which we could turn our anxious eyes, and they have all told us that they could give us no hope nor support, because they were so feeble them- selves; we can look to the throne of God:^ change and decay have never reached that; the revolution of ages has never moved it; the waves of an eternity have been rushing past it, but it has remained un- shaken; the waves of another eternity are rushing toward it, but it is fixed, and can never be disturbed." Application of Rule IV. in the answer to a question: whatever word contains the ansiver to a question pre- ceding, is pronounced with the falling inflection; thus, ''Arm'd, say you?" " Arm'd, my lord." Application of Rule IV. in antithesis : the falling in- * The remainder of the sentence falls under the exception to Note 1, on the Concluding Series. See p. 29. RISING INFLECTION. 31 flection is used in the latter member of an antithesis* of equal force in its constituent parts; thus, '^In Homer, we admire the man; in Virgil, the work." ''Are you toiling for fame, or labouring to heap up a fortune?" RISING INFLECTION, Rule I. Forms of speech which excite expec- iation of farther^ expression, whether they occur in the form of question, or of incomplete thought, and suspension of sense, raise or suspend the voice by the rising inflection. JVbfe 1. The circumstance of incompleteness or ex- pectation^ is the turning point on which depend all the rules for the rising inflection, as far as this slide is as- sociated with meaning addressed to the understanding. Feeling and harmony are the governing principles em- bodied in all the other rules on this inflection. The extent of the slide, or, in other words, the interval which the rising inflection traverses, in these cases, is prescribed by the nature of the prevalent emotion, in each instance. But in the circumstances presumed in Rule I., the slide is more or less elevated, accord- ing to the degree of expectation excited by the phrase to which it is applied, or the length of the clause which it terminates, and consequently the length of time during which the attention is kept in suspense. Hence, in marked suspension of sense, and in the * The antithesis of unequal parts occurs under Rule XL on ike -falling inflection. 32 RISING INFLECTION. vivid expectation consequent upon it^ the inflection runs high, — usually traversing an *' octave" or e& *' fifth;" thus, '' Shall we then tamely yield, or bravely resist?" In the moderate suspension of connexion, on the con- trary, the inflection is much reduced; seldom rising above a ** third;" sometimes limited to a single note, or even a semitone; and sometimes preserving a per- fect monotone. The annexed example, read in the tone of solemn description, allows but a very slight in- terval to the rising slide on the word '^ falls." ''The dew of night falls, and the earth is refreshed." In the following and similar examples, the inflection rises in proportion as the clause or clauses to which it belongs, are lengthened: ''As we cannot discern the shadow moving along the dial-plate, so the advances we make in knowledge are only perceived by the distance gone over." "^As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but did not perceive its moving; so our advances in learn- ing, consisting of insensible steps, are only ])erceiv- able by the distance." "^As we perceive the shadow to have moved along the dial-plate, but did not perceive its moving; and it: appears that the grass has grown, though nobody ever saw it grow: so the advances we make in knowledge, as they consist of so minute steps, are only perceivable h^ the distance." JVofe 2, Rule I. on the rising inflection applies in the tone of a question which requires an affirmative or a negative answer; in the tone of surprise, as it intimates suspense, and is usually expressed in the form. of question; in respectful address, request, pe— '"UHlllllUmiiUHrUinUi.UW^ K« RULE I. 33 trtion, or apostrophe; in the negative, or less forcible, part of an antithesis; in the expression of a condition, a supposition, or a concession; in the first part of a comparison, a contrast, or a correspondence; in the expression of connexion or continuance ; in any phrase which is introductory to another, and leaves the sense of a passage incomplete. Examples, Questions admitting of an affirmative or a negative answer: ''Will you obey so atrocious a mandate?" Surprise: " Ha! laughest thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?" "What! surrender on terms so dishonorable?" Address: "^My lord, I think I saw him yester night." " Can you, fellow citizens, be misled by such ar- guments?" Request: "Refuse not this last request of friend- ship!" Petition: "Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!" Apostrophe : " O sacred Truth, thy triumphs ceased awhile," — Antithesis: "He came not with the aspect of ven- geance but of mercy." Condition or supposition: " If we attempt to num- ber the stars, we are presently bewildered and lost! if we attempt to compass the idea of eternity, we are overwhelmed by the contemplation of a theme so vast." Concession: " Science may raise you to eminence; but virtue alone can guide you to felicity." 3 34 RISING INFLECTION. Comparison, contrast, and correspondence: *'As face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to man." ''Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid: Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle." Connexion and continuance: ''He came unto his own, and his own received him not." Introductory phrase: *' In the midst of perplexities, he was never discouraged." Application of Ride I. to series of words and clauses. The last member of a commencing series is read with the rising inflection. A commencing series is that in which the sense is merely commenced, or left incomplete, at every word or clause; the whole being intl'oductory to a following phrase. [Compare this with the definition of the con- cluding series in the application of Rule IV. on the falling inflection.] Examples, ''Valour, humanity, courtesy, justice, and honour, were the characteristics of chivalry." "Personal courage, humane feeling, courteous de- portment, a strict regard to justice, and a high sense of honour, were the characteristics of chivalry.^ * The falling inflection seems, notwithstanding the incomplete sense of a commencing series, to belong appropriately to all the members but the last, on the principle of enumeration, which from its approach to completeness at every stage, naturally in- clines to the falling inflection, as we may ascertain by referring to the customary tone of serious and attentive counting or reckoning. This inflection, however, is of minor consequence, and, unless in emphatic language, may be superseded by the rising, without any other defect, than a comparative want of force and harmony. It is the closing inflection of the series which is essential to meaning, RULE I. 35 JVbfe 3. Exceptions to all the applications of Rule I. on the rising inflection, occur in cases of peculiar force or emphasis. In such instances, the falling in- flection supersedes the rising; as the former is the invariable indication of energetic expression, and the rule of force displaces every other, in the utterance of thought. Examples. Earnest interrogation: ''He now appears before a jury of his country for redress. Will you deny him this redress." Interrogation of emphasis : '' Do you think that your conditions w^ill be accepted? Can you even ima- gine they will be listened to.^" Peculiar distinction in contrast: ''If we have no regard for our own character, we ought to have some regard for that of others." Emphatic expression in condition and supposition: *'Ifyou did, I care not." Energetic expression, although marked by the forms of connexion and continuance of meaning: " Such where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring." Introductory and incomplete expression, when em- phatic: "Destitute of every shadow of excuse, he shrunk abashed at the reproof." "Every day he lived he would have repurchased the bounty of the crown and ten times more, if ten times more he had received." The last member of a commencing series, if em- and indicates to the ear, whether the sense is complete or incom- plete, and whether the series is a commencing or a concluding «ne. £See Concluding Remarks on Injflection.] 36 RISING INFLECTION. phatic: ''His hopes, his happiness, his very life, hung upon the next word from those lips." Expressions of surprise, when emphatic: ''It does not seem possible, even after the testimony of our senses." Forcible address: "Mr. Chairman, I call on your interference to put a stop to this uproar." ^ Request, petition, intreaty, apostrophe: "Be husband to me, Heavens!" JSTote 4. The rising inflection gives place to the falling, in the tone of an interrogatory sentence which extends to unusual length, or concludes a long para- graph or an entire piece; thus, "The Brigantines, even under a female leader, had force enough to burn the enemy's settlements, to storm their camps, and if success had not introduced negligence and inactivity, would have been able en- tirely to throw off the yoke; and shall not we, un- touched, unsubdued, and struggling not for the acqui- sition, but the continuance of liberty, declare, at the very first onset, what kind of men Caledonia has re- served for her defence?" Rule II. The tones of pathos, — of tenderness and of grief; — usually incline to the rising inflec- tion. For examples turn to Note 2d, Rule IV. on the falling inflection. Exception. The exclamations of excessive grief take the appropriate falling inflection offeree; thus, ' ' Oh ! my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! " RULE III. 37 Rule III. Poetic and beautiful description, — whether in the form of verse or of prose, — has the rising inflection. For examples see as above, and add the following: *'When the gay and smiling aspect of things has b^gun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus thoughtlessly unguarded; when kind and caressing looks of every object without, that can flatter his senses, have conspired with the enemy within to be- tray him, and put him off* his defence; when music likewise hath lent her aid, and tried her power upon the passions; when the voice of singing men, and the voice of singing women, with the sound of the viol and the lute, have broke in upon his soul, and in some tender notes have touched the secret springs of rap- ture; — that moment, let us dissect and look into his heart: see how vain, how weak,^ how empty a thing itis."t * See Note 1 to Rule IV. on the falling inflection. t The above example, it will be perceived, might be classed under the commencing series, and, if divested of poetic character, might be read with a prevailing downward slide. This circum- stance may suggest the genercd rule of reading poetic series with the rising slide on every member except the penultimate of a com- mencing series, and the last of a concluding one; the falling slide being required in the former as a preparation for a distinct and prominent rising slide on the last member, and in the latter for the cadence of the sentence. The reason why the prevalence of a rising slide should charac- terise poetic description, is to be found, perhaps, in the milder and softer character of that inflection, compared to the falling slide, which is always the expression of force. The calm and gentle emotions of poetic description, in general, will therefore be most appropiately given by the former. [See as a contrast to this inflection the Exception to Rule III. on the rising inflection. ] 3* 38 RISING INFLECTION. Exception, Description, when characterised by- great force, requires the falling slide in poetry, as well as in prose; thus, *' Now storming fury rose. And clamour, such as heard in heaven till now Was never; arms on armour clashing brayed Horrible discord; and the madding wheels ^ Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise Of conflict;"— Rule IV. Harmony and completeness of ca- dence require the rising inflection at the close of the penultimate clause of a sentence, so as to ad- mit of a full descent at the period. Example. ''In epic poetry the English have only to boast of Spencer and Milton, who neither of them wanted either genius or learning to have been perfect poets; and yet both of them are liable to many cen- sures". Exception, Abrupt and forcible language dispenses with this rule of harmony, and admits the falling in- flection at a penultimate clause; thus, *'Uzziel! half these draw off*, and coast the south With strictest watch; these other wheel the north; Our circuit meets full west." So also in concise and disconnected forms of ex- pression: *' But the knowledge of nature is only half the busi- ness of a poet: he must be acquainted likewise with all the modes of life." INFLECTION OF PABENTHESIS. 39 GENERAL RULE ON PARENTHESIS. The words included in a parenthesis or between two dashes used as a parenthesis, and any phrase corresponding in effect to a parenthesis, are read with the same inflection as the clause immediately preceding them. JVote, A lower and less forcible tone, and a more rapid utterance, than in the other parts of a sentence, together with a degree of monotony, are required in the reading of a parenthesis. The form of parenthe- sis implies something thrown in as an interruption of the main thought in a sentence. Hence its suppressed and hurried tone; the voice seeming to hasten over it slightly, as if impatient to resume the principal ob- ject. The same remark applies, with more or less force, to all intervening phrases, whether in the exact form of parenthesis, or not. Examples, ''Uprightness is a habit, and, like all other habits, gains strength by time and exercise. If then we ex- ercise upright principles, (and we cannot have them, unless we exercise them,) they must be perpetually on the increase." *'Now I will come unto you, when I pass through Macedonia, (for I do pass through Macedonia;) and it may be that I will abide, yea, and winter with you." ''And this," said he, — putting the remains of a crust into his wallet, — "and this should have been thy portion," said he, " hadst thou been alive to have shared it with me." 40 CIRCUMFLEX. Exceptions occur when a parenthesis closes with an emphatic word; thus, '' If you Eschines, in particular, were thus persuaded; (and it was no partial affection for me that prompted you to give me up the hopes, the applause, the honours, which attended the course >I then advised, but the superior force of truth, and your utter inability to point out any more eligible^ course;) if this was the case, I say, is it not highly cruel and unjust to arraign those measures now, when you could not then propose any better?" RULE ON THE CIRCUMFLEX. The tone of irony, of equivocal meaning, or of peculiar significance, requires the circumflex. The falling circumflex, in such cases, takes the usual place of the simple falling inflection, and the rising circumflex that of the simple rising inflection. Examples. Irony: '* Oh! you're well met! The hoarded plague o' the gods requite your love !" Equivocal meaning, or pun: *^Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of light con- duct, used all their influence in urging the pendulum to proceed." Peculiar significance: ''Mark you his absolute shall? — They chose their magistrate: And such a one as he, who puts his shall, His popular shall, against a graver bench Than ever frown'd in Greece!" ''Let any man resolve to do right now, leaving then to do as it can; and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong." MONOTOMEi. 41 RULE ON THE MONOTONE* The tones of sublime or grand description; of ^-everence and awe^ of horror and amazement; re- quire the monotone. Examples, Sublime description: — '^ his form had not yet lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and the excess Of glory obscur'd; as when the siin new risen Looks through the horizontal misty air, Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs;" Reverence: '^And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost prefer, Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou knowest:" — Awe: ''The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain While T gaze upward to thee. — Tt would seem As though God pour'd thee from his hollow hand, And spake in that loiid voice which seem'd to him Who dwelt in Patmos, for his Saviour's sake, The sound of many waters, and had bid Thy flood to chronicle the ages back. And notch his centuries in the eternal rock." Horror: '' I had a dream which was not all a dream: The bright sun was extinguished; and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 42 INFLECTION. Rayless and pathless; and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;''- Amazement: — '' What may this mean, That thou dead corse, again, in complete steel, Revisitest thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous?"^ ERRORS IN INFLECTION* The common errors in inflection, are the follow- ing: 1st, too frequent repetition of the rising in- flection ; thus, '^ As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but did not perceive its moving; so our advances in learn- ing, consisting of insensible steps, are only perceiv- able by the distance." The puerile and feeble tone thus given to the above sentence, will be corrected by substituting the falling inflection on the words '^ moved" and '' learning," which produces a natural and spirited variety of ex- pression. 2. The opposite error is not uncommon — that of using too often the falling inflection, vv^hich gives reading a formal and laboured tone ; thus, * The principle of the monotone seems to be founded on the conviction that no mere vocal distinction, or turn of sound, is ade- quate to express the highest conceptions or the profoundest emo- tions of the soul. The monotone indicates, as it were, the tem- porary inabihty of the voice for its usual function. This very circumstance, however, as it ultimately associates sublimity or unwonted excitement with the utterance of one reiterated note, gives the monotone a peculiar and indescribable power. ERRORS « 43 *^ As we perceive the shadow to have moved, but do not perceive its moving; so the advances we make in learning, consisting of insensible steps, are only perceivable by the distance." The heavy effect of this reading will be removed by using the rising inflection at ^' moving" and *' steps." 3. A third error consists ia onaitting the con- trasts of inflection in antithesis ; thus, ** Life is short, and art is long." *' Homer was the greater genius, Virgil the better Artist." This fault destroys the spirit of the contrast; the effect of which depends entirely on giving opposite in- ilections to the words ''short" and ''long," "genius" and " artist." The more sharply these inflections are pointed against each other, the more vivid becomes the contrast in the sense. 4. A fourth error is that of dravi^ing up the voice to a note unnecessarily high, in the rising inflection;, and consequently of sinking equally low^ on the falling inflection. The fault thus created is that of an artificial and mechanical style of reading, constituting the chief difference between formal tones and those wliich are natural. This defect may be exemplified by reading the following sentences with the tones of question and answer, at the places which are designated by the rising and falling inflections. "As the beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, (?) so is decency of behaviour a con- comitant to virtue." 44 INFLECTiaN. "Formed to excel in peace as well as in war, ('?;^ Csesar possessed many great and noble qualities." This fault would be removed by substituting, for the excessive rising slide, the moderate inflection of sus- pended sense, which rises but little above the current level of the voice, as may be observed by contrasting the artificial slides of what is sometimes stigmatised* as a " reading" tone with the natural and easy turns of conversation. 5. A fault still more objectionable than any that has been mentioned, is that of using the circumflex instead of the simple inflections, especially in con- trasts. This error is exemplified in the peculiar local ac- cent of New England; thus, Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground." This faulty tone substitutes double for single in- flections. The true reading would be marked thus; *' Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller- of the ground. The eflTect of the erroneous inflection is peculiarly unhappy, as it forms a tone properly associated with irony, sarcasm, burlesque, punning, and all other forms of equivoque, or with the intention of im- parting an unusual significance to a particular word or phrase, as when the speaker or reader is peculiar- ly anxious to be correctly understood in a nice dis- tinction of sense. The morbid jerk of voice with which emphasis is thus imparted, disturbs the natural current of utterance by a multiplicity of unnecessary and unnatural angular turnings. The true melody of speech is thus lost in a false and arbitrary intonation- INFLECTION. 45 which has no sanction but the accidental prevalence of a local custom. The source of the above error being an undue anx- iety about emphasis, the fault in accent would be cured by adhering strictly to simplicity and directness in emphatic expression, and using the single rising and falling inflections in all cases of ordinary antithe- sis or simple force of utterance. SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE.* It is not unusual with learners to experience a diffi- culty in discriminating between the rising and the falling inflection in certain passages. The pupil may, in such «ases, be required to throw the given clause into the form of a question, so as to catch more read- ily the distinction to be made in correct reading. In the sentence, ^^Life is short, and art is long," the question would run thus, ''Must I say, Life is short? or Life is short?" — The slide which is wanted, occurs not in the latter, but in the former tone. — If the pupil still finds it difliicult to apply the true inflec- tion, he may repeat the former question, ''Must I say. Life is short?" and immediately say, in the same tone of voice, "Life is short. "(?) When tlie learner is in doubt as to which inflection he has actually used in practice, the question may be, " Did I say, Life is short? or Life is short?" — If the slide which was adopted echoes to the latter of these questions, the wrong inflection was given; and * The remarks under this head, though primarily designed for the assistance of teachers of young pupils, may prove useful as aids to the correction of personal faults in adults. 4 46 INFLECTION. the example should be repeated with nearly the tone which would be employed in asking the question, " Must I say, Life is short?" — the interrogatory part of which the pupil may put to himself mentally, read- ing aloud only the words, *'Life is short." This point of discrimination is very important; and the table of contrasted inflections should be diligentl}^ practised till every example can be readily and cor- rectly given. The fault of using one inflection uniformly, and that of overdoing both inflections, enumerated on a pre- ceding page, as the 1st, 2d, and 4th errors of com- mon usage, may be removed by selecting* a passage of familiar narrative, and requiring the pupil to shut the book occasionally, and address the language to the teacher, as using it in conversation with him. Exercises such as this become doubly important, in consequence of the mechanical methods usually adopted in teaching the elements of reading, and the utter want of adaptation to their purposes, in the books commonly employed in this department of education.— Reading books, it is true, have, within a few years, undergone great improvements in this respect. But most are still quite defective in this particular, that they contain what adults wish to inculcate on children^ and not xvhat childreji naturally incline to express. All the current books of this description, are too formal and artificial; and many, if not most of the pieces which they contain, actually require those forced and didactic tones which prematurely ruin the elocution of boys, and prevent the possibility of a nat- ural eloquence in men. Similar results follow the equally absurd practice of SUGGESTIONS. 47 making young boys '* declaim" from political har- angues, anniversary orations, and even from didactic compositions originally delivered from the pulpit. These are the productions of mature minds, and may form very good speaking exercises for adults; but boys can never practise them without contracting false or affected tones. The use of the '^ circumflex," or ''wave," seems, as already mentioned, to mark universally the local tone of emphasis in New England, as contradistin- guished from the customary mode of utterance in all other parts of the world in which the English lan- guage prevails. Accidents of local usage are neces- sarily entailed on the youth of a community, in the in- tercourse of domestic and social life. A good educa- tion, however, should always secure an exemption from local peculiarities of intonation. Hence the im- portance of an early formation of correct habit, in this as well as in other departments of elocution. The most efficacious practice for removing the fault complained of above, is to revert to the tones of ques- tion and answer for illustrations of simple inflection, and to repeat one or more examples, throwing the first part of each into the shape of a question; thus, '' Was Abel a keeper of sheep?" and the latter into the form of an answer to a question such as ''What was Cain?" — thus, "Cain was a tiller of the ground." The wrong inflection having been thus displaced, the simple inflections should be reduced from the pe- culiar notes- of question and answer to the appropriate moderate slides of contrast. 48 INFLECTION. Concluding Remarks on the Theory of Inflection. The work of Dr. James Rush on the Philosophy of the Voice, gives a masterly analysis of the vocal phe- nomena denominated by him the *' slide '^ and the ''wave/' and by previous writers on elocution usually^ designated as ''inflection" and "circumflex." But Dr. Rushes object being an exhibition of the philos- ophy of the voice, and not of the practical rules of the art of reading, the teacher will still derive important aid from Mr. Walker's treatise entitled Elocution, as well as from his Rhetorical Grammar. The rules laid down in these works by that eminent authority, however, will be found, in the^department of inflection, both complex and artificial. This part of Mr. Walker^s system of instruction, has been justly complained of by subsequent teachers. Mr. Sheridan Knowles, in his Elocutionist^ speaks of a clearer and simpler view of this subject as one of the most desir- able aids to instruction in reading; and he has him- self successfully attempted a great reduction of the number of rules on the rising inflectioUa The late Rev. Dr. Porter of Andover, has, in his Analysis of Rhetorical Delivery, very justly indicated the un- necessary complexity of Walker's rules of inflection, applied to the reading of series of words and clauses, and has, in his own treatise, given to the principle of the falling inflection more prominence and simplicity of exposition, than any preceding writer on the sub- ject of elocution. The views of inflection which have been submitte(J in the present work, under the head of "rules on the THEORY. 49 falling inflection " will be found, it is hoped, to place the subject in a clearer light than hitherto, by tracing rules to principles, and thus simplifying the theory of elocution, and facilitating the processes of instruction and practice. The student who is once put in pos- session of a principle, soon acquires a perfect facility in applying it as a rule, and is enabled to dispense with special instruction and directions. The two great principles which seem to regulate the application of the falling inflection, or downward slide of the voice, are force and completeness of ex- pression. From these are deduced all special rules of reading, in given passages; and, with a right ap- prehension of these, the student will, in a short time^ acquire a perfect facility a^ well as precision in all the uses of this slide, so as to be able to read, extem- pore, with propriety and efllect, all sentences which derive their character or significance from this modi- fication of the voice. Teachers who have made themselves familiar with Walker's exposition of inflections, will perceive that the author of the present work has omitted the arbi- trary distinction enjoined in the reading of the '' sim- ple " and the '^ compound series." Walker's direc- tion is to read the former with a certain arbitrary variety of inflection on its component members, for the sake of harmony in sound. Such a mode of read- ing seems to be utterly at variance with the great principle that the meaning of a passage is the key to its intonation. A series is a succession of particulars, grouped by close connexion in sense, and possessing a temporary correspondence and unity. Unity of inflection, there- fore, must be the natural indication of the unity of 4* 50 INFLECTION* thought. Variety may, to a mechanical ear, seem, in such cases, an ornament; but true taste would reject it as inappropriate, and as interfering with the higher claims of meaning. It is the writer, and not the reader, who is responsible, in such circumstances, for the comparative want of variety and harmony in sound. p There seems to be, however, a positive objection to variety of inflection on the successive members of the series; and it is this. To read a long series with the variety prescribed by Walker, it is necessary that the reader should know beforehand the exact number of words contained in it, that he may give the right in- flection to each, according to its numerical position. — But how can this be done without stopping to count them'? If such a rule is to be observed, there can be no such thing as correct unpremeditated reading. The following may be taken as a specimen of the application of the arbitrary rules to which these ob- jections have been made. ''Mr. Lockers definition of wit comprehends meta- phors, enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, dreams, visions, dramatic writings, burlesque, and all the methods of allusion." Studied variety and artificial beauty are no part of true refinement: they spring from the pedantry of taste. Dr. Porter, in his Analysis, very justly observes: ''All Walker's rules of inflection, as to a series of single words, when unemphatic, are worse than use- less. No rule of harmonic inflection that is inde- pendent of sentiment, can be established without too much risk of an artificial habit; unless it be this one. CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 51 that the voice should rise at the last pause before the cadence; and even this mcij be superseded by em- phasis." The following passage from Mr. Walker furnishes a striking instance of the inconsistencies into which the mind is sometimes betrayed by an overweening at- tachment to system. '' These rules " (on inflection) *' might be carried to a much greater length; but too nice an attention to them, in a long series, might not only be very difficult, but give an air of stiffness to the pronunciation, which would not he compensated by the propriety.^' But in the very next sentence—*^ It may be necessary, however, to observe that, in a long enumeration of particulars, it would not be improper to divide them into portions of three,' ^ '^ and this division ought to commence from the end of the series P^ EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. TABLE OF INFLECTIONS USED IN CONTRAST.* 1. Does he mean honestly or dishonestly? 2. Did he say humour or humour? S, Was he to say amber or amber? 4. Ought he to say ocean or ocean? 5. Did you say eel or eel? * The above table is designed to facilitate the acquisition of the two principal slides. The exercise should be practised till the student can discriminate and apply them with perfect exactness. Young learners will be aided by the practice of marking, with a pencil, those of the examples which are left unaccented, — ^previoua to which exercise it may be useful to review Rule XL on theJ^aH" ingy and Rule I. on the rising inflection. 52 CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS'. 6. He does not mean dishonestly but honestljr^ 7. He did not say humour but humour, 8. He was not to say amber but amber. 9. We ought not to say ocean but ocean, 10. You did not say eel but eel. 11. He means honestly not dishonestly.^ 12. He said humour not humour. 13. He was to say amber not amber. 14. We ought to say ocean not ocean^ 15. You said eel not eeL 16. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 17. Not that I loved Ceesar less, but Rome more. 18. You shall not in your funeral speech blame us^. But speak all good you can devise of Caesar. 19. Mark Antony shall not love Csssar dead So well as Brutus living. 20. I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. 21. It was an enemy, not a friend, who did this. 22. This is the argument of the opponents, and not of the friends, of such a measure. 23. Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow. 24. I am glad rather than sorry that it is so. 25. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 26. 1 rather choose To wrong the dead,^ to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honorable men. * Some learners, in practising this class of examples, may need to be guarded against the fault of turning the last inflection of these sentences into a circumflex, in the mode of New England- accent. FALLING INFLECTION. 53 EXERCISES ON THE FALLING INFLECTION. Rule I. Calling, shouting, exclamation, energetic command: 1. Up drawbridge, groom! What, warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall! 2. Liberty! freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence! proclaim, cry it about the streets. 3. Follow your spirit; and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry !* England ! and St. George ! 4. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: King John, your king and England's doth approach, — Open your gates, and give the victors way. 5. Arm, arm!t it is, it is the cannon's opening roar! 6. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. 7. The combat deepens: — On, ye brave Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave. And charge with all thy chivalry. 8. On them, hussars! in thunder on them wheel! 9. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! 10. Then let the trumpet sound The tucket sonnance, and the note to mount. * The examples not accented in type, are meant to be marked by the learner. t The inflection on the repeated word is on a lower note than the first; the first has a more moderate fall; and the pause be- tween the exclamatory words is very slight, as the tone is that of agitation, hurry, and alarm. 54 FALLING INFLECTION. Indignant or reproachful address : 1. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward, Thou little valiant, great in villainy! 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. 2. But ohr What shall I say to thee. Lord Scroop, thou cruel^ Ingrateful, savage, and inhuman creature! Thou that didst bear the keys of all my counsels^ That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coined me into gold, Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use? Challenge and defiance: 1. ' Who says this? Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head? 2. Pale, trembling coward, there I throw my gage- By that and all the rights of knighthood else. Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, What I have spoke or thou canst worse devise, 3. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart. Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liesta Swearing, adjuration, imprecation: 1. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot, 2, Seven, by these hilts, or Pm a villain else. 3. By the elements. If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He is mine or I am his. EXERCISES. 55 4. You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 5. When night Closes round the ghastly fight, If the vanquish'd warrior bow, Spare him: — by our holy vow. By our prayers and many tears, By the mercy that endears Spare him: — he our love hath shar'd — Spare him, as thou wouldst be spared! 6. I conjure you by that which you profess, (Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me: Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown down; Though castles topple on their warder's heads; Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure Of nature's germins tumble all together, Even till destruction sicken, — answer me To what I ask you. 7. Ruin seize thee, ruthless king! Confusion on thy banners wait! 8. Accurs'd be the faggots that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat! -Beshrew thy very heart! I did not think to be so sad to-night, As this hath made me. 56 FALLING INFLECTION. 10. Perish the man whose mind is backward now! 11. And when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor or unjustly fight! 12 Heaven bear witness; And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, Even as the axe falls, if 1 be not faithful! Accusation: 1. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true: That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers; The which he hath detain 'd for base employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain; That all the treasons, for these eighteen years, Complotted and concocted in this land Fetch from false Mowbray their chief spring and head. 2. And thou, sly hypocrite! who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more than thou Once fawn'd and cring'd, and servilely ador'd Heaven's awful monarch? Assertion, declaration, ajffiiination, assurance: 1. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true. 2. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the contrivers of your own ruin. 3. I tell you though you, though all the world, though an angel from heaven, should declare the truth of it, I could not believe it. 4. When I behold those manly feelings darkened by ignorance, and inflamed by prejudice, and blinded by bigotry, I will not hesitate to assert, that no mon- KXERCISES. 57 arch ever came to the throne of these realms, in such a spirit of direct and predetermined and predeclared hostility to the opinions and wishes of the people. 5, And by the honourable tomb he swears, That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones, And by the royalties of both your bloods, Currents that spring from one most gracious head. And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, And by the worth and honour of himself, — Comprising all that may be sworn or said; His coming hither hath no farther scope Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: Which on thy royal party granted once. His glittering arms he will commend to rust. His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart To faithful service of your majesty. 6. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath. And breath of life, I have no life to breathe, What thou hast said to me. Tfireatning and warning: -If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive Till famine cling thee: But, sirrah, henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer: Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you. 3. Return to thy dwelling, all lonely return; For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, 5 58 FALLING INFLECTION. And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood, 4. And if you crown him, let me prophesy — The blood of English shall manure the ground, And future ages groan for this foul act; Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, — Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd The field of Golgotha. Denial y contradiction, refusal: 1. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him; He never did encounter with Glendower. 2. Cassius, I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions. Brutus. Goto: you're not, Cassius. Cas, I am. Bru, I say you are not. 3. No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, — No, not that name was given me at the font, — But 'tis usurp'd. 4. I'll keep them all; -he shall not have a Scot of them: No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not. Earnest intreaty, appeal, remonstrance, expostulation: 1. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts! Not to-day. Oh! not to-day, — think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown! EXERCISES, 59 2. Arm, arm, you heavens! against these perjurM kings! A widow cries, be husband to me, heavens! Let not the hours of this ungodly day Wear out the day in peace; but ere sunset, Set armed discord, 'twixt these perjur'd kings! Hear me, oh! hear me! 3. Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; Be now the father and propose a son; Hear your own dignity so much profan'd; See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted; Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd; And then imagine me taking your part, And in your power so silencing your son. Exhortation, invitation^ temperate command: 1. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our English dead. 2. Stoop, Romans, stoop. And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood; Then walk ye forth, even to the market place; And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, Let's all cry peace! freedom! and liberty! 3. Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come! Where the violets lie may be now your home. Ye of the rose lip, and the dew-bright eye. And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine, — I may not stay. 4. Come away, servant, come: I am ready now; Approach, my Ariel; comej 60 FALLING INFLECTION. 5. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' the sea; Be subject to no eye but mine; invisible To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape, And hither come in't: hence, with diligence! Admiration and adoration: 1. The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains. Beautiful! 2. These are thy glorious works. Parent of Good, Almighty! Thine this universal frame. Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen Midst these thy lowest works! 3. Thou glorious mirror! where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests. 4. And I have lov'd thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports, was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward — from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight. 5. And this is in the night! Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee! How the lit lake shines! — a phosphoric sea — And the big rain comes dancing to the earth! 6. What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite jn faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! In action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! 7. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: th^ EXERCISES. 61 God of glory thundereth: the Lord is upon many waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars ; yea, the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon. The voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness; the Lord shaketh the wilderness of Kadesh. EXERCISES ON RULE II. See Table of Contrasted Inflections, EXERCISES ON RULE III, See Rule III EXERCISES ON RULE IV. Complete thought in sentences: 1. The flowers strewed on the grave of merit, are the best incense to living worth. 2. A cheerful mind is not only disposed to be affa- ble and obliging, but raises the same good humour in those who come within its influence. 3. It is one great advantage of classical studies, that, in acquiring the languages of Greece and Rome, we insensibly contract an acquaintance with some of the most illustrious characters of antiquity, and are partially admitted into their venerable society. Complete thought in clauses: 1. Let your companions be select; let them be such as you can love for their good qualities, and whose virtues you are desirous to emulate. 5* 62 FALLING INFLECTION. 2. I observed that those who had but just begun to climb the hill, thought themselves not far from the top; but as they proceeded, new hills were continu- ally rising to their view; and the summit of the high- est they could before discern, seemed but the foot of another: till the mountain, at length, appeared to lose ^ itself in the clouds. 3. This sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very little part of the grand machine of the universe; every star, though no bigger in appearance than the diamond that glitters on a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like the sun in size and in glory; no less spa- cious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of the day: so that every star is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system; has a retinue of worlds irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence, — all which are lost to our sight in unmeasurable wilds of ether. Exceptions in poetry : 1. The fisher is out on the sunny sea; And the reindeer bounds o'er the pasture free; And the pine has a fringe of softer green, And the moss looks bright where my foot hath been. 2. From the streams and founts I have loos'd the chain; They are sweeping on to the silvery main, They are flashing down from the mountain brows, They are flinging spray o'er the forest boughs, They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves. And the earth resounds with the joy of waves! EXERCISES. 63 Concluding series : 1. The spirit of true religion breathes gentleness and affability. 2. Industry is the law of our being: it is the de- mand of nature, of reason, and of God. 3. You have a friend continually at hand, to pity, to support, to defend, and to relieve you. 4. The characteristics of chivalry, were valour, humanity, courtesy, justice, and honour. 5. Mankind are beseiged by war, famine, pesti- lence, volcano, storm, and fire. 6. A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends resolutely, and continues a friend unchange- ably. 7. True gentleness teaches us to bear one anoth- er's burdens, to rejoice with those who rejoice, to weep with those who weep, to please every one his neighbour for his good, to be kind and tender hearted, to be pitiful and courteous, to support the weak, and to be patient towards all men. Exceptions, in poetry, to the prevalence of the falling inflection : 1. In the hues of its grandeur sublimely it stood O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood. 2. About me round I saw, Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams. 3. Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, 64 FALLING INFLECTION. And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm ; A wilderness of sweets. 4. Sudden mind arose In Adam not to let the occasion pass Given him by this great conference, to know Of things above this world, and of their being Who dwell in heaven, whose excellence he saw Transcend his own so far; whose radiant forms, Divine effulgence ; whose high power so far Exceeded human. The answer to a question: 1. Hamlet. Hold you the watch to-night? All.^ We do, my lord. Ham, Arm'd say you? AIL Arm'd, my lord. Ham, From top to toe ? All, My lord, from head to foot. Ham, And fix'd his eyes upon you ? Hor, Most constantly. Ham, Staid it long? Hor, While one, with moderate haste, might tell a hundred. 2. Hamlet. Good sir, whose powers are these? Captain, They are of Norway, sir. Ham, How purpos'd sir, I pray you ? Cap, Against some part of Poland. Ham. Who Commands them, sir? Cap, The nephew of old Norway, Fortinbras. * Horatio, Bernardo, and Marcellus. EXERCISES. 65 -Show men dutiful? Why so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? Why so didst thou: Come they of noble family? Why so didst thou: Seem they religious? Why so didst thou. Latter member of an antithesis of equal force in its constituent parts : 1. Says he this in jest or in earnest. 2, Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread, Or echoes from the groaning ground, The warrior's measur'd tread? Is it the lightning's quivering glance, That from the thicket streams, Or do they flash on spear and lance, The sun's retiring beams? 3. Caesar was celebrated for his great bounty and generosity; Cato for his unsullied integrity: the form- er became renowned by his humanity and compassion; an austere severity heightened the dignity of the latter. Caesar was admired for an easy yielding temper; Cato for his immovable firmness. 4. The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in dis- cerning the true merit of a work; the power of cor- rectness, in rejecting false pretensions to merit. Del- icacy leans more to feeling ; correctness more to reason and judgment. The former is more the gift of nature; the latter, more the product of culture and art. 5. Homer was the greater genius; Virgil, the better artist: in the one we more admire the man; in 66 RISING INFLECTION. the other, the work. Homer hurries us with a com- manding impetuosity; Virgil leads us with an attrac- tive majesty. Homer scatters with a generous pro- fusion; Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence. Homer, like the Nile, pours out his riches with a sud- den overflow; Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a constant stream. EXERCISES ON THE RISING INFLECTION. Rule I. Questions which may be answered by Yes or JYo, Is this then worst? Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here. Heaven's fugitives; and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay? 3. Is there any one who will seriously maintain that the taste of a Hottentot or a Laplander, is as delicate and as correct as that of Longinus or an Ad- dison ? or that he can be charged with no defect or incapacity, who thinks a common news-writer as ex- cellent an historian as Tacitus ? 4. Can we believe that a thinking being, which is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and travel- ling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made EXERCISES. 67 a few discoveries of His infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, must perish at its first setting out, and in the very beginning of its inquiries?* JVegative, or less forcible, part of an antithesis: See Table of Contrasted Inflections. Condition, supposition, concession: 1. If the parts of time were not variously coloured, we should never discern their departure or succession. If one hour were like another; if the passage of the sun did not show that the day is wasting ; if the change of seasons did not impress upon us the flight of the year, quantities of duration, equal to days and years, would glide unobserved. 2. Banish gentleness from the earth; suppose the world to be filled with none but harsh and conten- tious spirits; and what sort of society would remain? — the solitude of the desert were preferable to it. 3. This, though it may make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve. Exceptions by emphasis: 1. If there were no other effects of such appear- ances of nature upon our minds, they would teach us humility, — and with it they would teach us charity. 2, If the sun himself which enlightens this part of * In long sentences of the interrogatory form, the tone becomes n^pid and slight in the utterance of the subordinate parts of the question.- The reading falls, in such passages, into the manner of parenthesis. This modulation of voice takes place in the above example, at the word <« after," and continues to the pause at •* power." 68 RISING INFLECTION. creation were extinguished, and all the host of plan- etary worlds which move about him were annihilated; they would not be missed by an eye that could take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. 3. A young lady may excel in speaking French and Italian; may repeat a few passages from a vol- ume of extracts; play like a professor, and sing like a siren; have her dressing-room decorated with her own drawing-tables, stands, flower-pots, screens, and cabinets; nay, she may dance like Sempronia her- self; and yet we shall insist that she may have been very badly educated. Comparison: 1. As cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far country. 2. As the door turneth upon his hinges, so doth the slothful upon his bed. 3. He that hath no rule over his own spirit, is like a city that is broken down, and without walls. Exception by emphasis: As a madman who casteth firebrands, arrows, and death, so is the man who deceiveth his neighbour, and saith, ''Am I not in sport.^" Connexion: 1. I am found, said Virtue, in the vale, and illu- minate the mountain: I cheer the cottager at his toil, and inspire the sage at his meditation: I mingle in the crowd of cities, and bless the hermit in his cell. 2. I ranged mountains and deserts for images and EXERCISES. 69 resemblances, and pictured upon my mind every tree of the forest, and flower of the valley. 3. Though Homer lived, as is generally believed, only two or three centuries after the Trojan war, yet, through the want of written records, tradition must, by this time, have fallen into the degree of obscurity most proper for poetry; and have left him at full lib- erty to mix as much fable as he pleased with the re- mains of true history. Exceptions by emphasis: 1. He called me a poacher and a villain; and col- laring me, desired I would give an account of myself 2. If the departing from that measure, should not remove the prejudice so maliciously raised, I am cer- tain that no farther step you can take, will be able to remove it; and therefore I hope you will stop here. Introductory phrase, or incomplete sense : 1. For some time after my retreat, I rejoiced, like a tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the har- bour. 2. When the pleasure of novelty went away, I employed my hours in examining the plants which grew in the valley. 3. That the stars appear like so many diminutive and scarce distinguishable points, is owing to their immense and inconceivable distance. 4. So little do we accustom ourselves to consider the effects of time, that things necessary and certain often surprise us like unexpected contingencies. 5. He that is carried forward, however swiftly, by 6 70 RISING INFLECTION. a motion equable and easy, perceives not the change of place, but by the variation of objects. 6. I was looking very attentively on that sign in the heavens, which is called by the name of the bal- ance, when, on a sudden, there appeared in it an ex- traordinary light, as if the sun should rise at midnight. 7. As I was humouring myself in the speculation^ of these two great principles of action, I could not forbear throwing my thoughts into a kind of allegory or fable. 8. Having with difficulty found his way to the street in which his decent mansion had formerly stood, his heart became more and more elated at every step he advanced. Exceptions by emphasis : 1. That prejudice will sometimes overcast the clearest judgements, every day's observation furnishes abundant proof. 2. Addicted to duplicity, even in the earliest years of youth, he willingly devoted his maturer years to every form of baseness and intrigue. 3. He who had so nobly sustained himself in the darkest hours of adversity, was found unequal to thi& favourable turn of fortune. Commencing series, — last member: 1. Dependence and obedience belong to youth. 2. The yoimg, the healthy, and the prosperous, should not presume on their advantages. 3. Humanity, justice, generosity and public spirit,, are the qualities most useful to others. EXERCISES. 71 4. Metaphors, enigmas, mottoes, parables, fables, dreams, visions, dramatic writing, burlesque, and all the methods of allusion, are comprehended under Mr. Locke's definition of wit. 5. Common calamities and common blessings, fall heavily upon the envious. 6. A generous openness of heart, a calm deliber- ate courage, a prompt zeal for the public service, are at once constituents of true greatness, and the best evidences of it. 7. The splendor of the firmament, the verdure of the earth, the varied colours of the flowers, which fill the air with their fragrance, and the music of those artless voices which mingle on every tree; all con- spire to captivate our hearts, and to swell them with the most rapturous delight. 8. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own heeirts and characters, — to restrain every irregular in- clination, — to subdue every rebellious passion, — to pu- rify the motives of our conduct, — to form ourselves to that temperance which no pleasure can seduce, to that meekness which no provocation can ruffle, to that patience which no affliction can overwhelm, and that integrity which no interest can shake; this is the task which is assigned to us, — a task which cannot be performed without the utmost diligence and care. 9. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a moun- tain, the ornaments of a building, the expression of a picture, the composition of a discourse, the conduct of a third person, the proportions of different quanti- ties and numbers, the various appearances which the great machine of the universe is perpetually exhibit- 72 EMPHASIS. ing, the secret wheels and springs which produce them, all the general subjects of science and taste, are what we and our companions regard as having no peculiar relation to either of us. CHAPTER II. EMPHASIS. General Observations, Every sentence contains one or more words which are prominent, and pecu- liarly important, in the expression of meaning. These words are marked with a distij^ctive inflection; as may be observed by turning to some of the examples in the preceding lesson, — those, in particular, which illus- trate the reading of strong emotion, or of antithesis. The learner will find, on repeating these examples, that the words which are pronounced with peculiar inflection, are uttered with more force than the other words in the same sentences. This special force is what is called emphasis. Its use is to impress more strikingly on the mind of the hearer the thought, or portion of thought, embodied in the particular word or phrase on which it is laid. It gives additional energy to important points in expression, by causing sounds which are peculiarly significant, to strike the ear with an appropriate and distinguishing force. It possesses, in regard to the sense of hearing, a similar advantage to that of ^^ relief," or prominence to the eye, in a DEFINITION, 73 well executed picture; in which the figures seem to stand out from the canvass. Emphasis, then, being the manner of pronouncing the most significant words, its ofhce is of the utmost importance to an intelligible and impressive delivery. It is the manner of uttering emphatic words which decides the meaning of every sentence that is read or spoken. A true emphasis conveys a sentiment clearly and forcibly to the mind, and keeps the attention of an audience in active sympathy with the thoughts of the speaker: it gives full value and effect to all that he utters, and secures a lasting impression on the memory. Definition. Emphasis, when strictly defined, may be regarded as force of utterance, applied to a particular w^ord or phrase, by unusual energy of articulation on accented syllables. JVofe 1. That emphasis is chiefly a peculiar force of accent, will be apparent from the following illus- tration. Pronounce the word Begone! in the tone of familiar and good humoured expression: then repeat it in the tone of vehement or indignant command. In either case the first syllable of the word is nearly the same as to force. In the former state of feeling, the second syllable has very little more than the usual proportion of accent; but in the latter, the last syl- lable becomes vastly more energetic in comparison with the first. The result will be found similar in kind, though less in degree, in sentences wdiich con- tain the emphasis of distinction or contrast. That emphasis should be to the ear merely a relative force of accent, is a natural consequence of the state of 74 EMPHASIS. mind which gives rise to this modification of voice. The immediate mental cause of emphasis is earnest^ ness, or intensity of thought or feeling, which neces- sarily leads to forcible utterance, or energetic ar- ticulation. The emphatic word is that which em- bodies and concentrates this state of mind, for the purpose of expression; and the accented syllable of^ such a word, as the determining and significant one, necessarily absorbs the energy of voice. JYbte 2. Emphasis may be termed absolute, when it expresses strong emotion, or an idea which does not imply contrast.^ Of the former we have examples in all sudden and forcible or emphatic exclamations, as in the following: '^ Gdds! can a Roman senate long debate which of the two to choose, slavery or death?" Of the latter, (in which from the absence of emo- tion the force of utterance is of course much more moderate,) we may select the tone used in desig- nating, announcing, or particularising a subject: ^'It is my design in this paper to deliver down to poster- ity a faithful account of the Italian opera, and of the gradual progress which it has made upon the English stage." Emphasis may be called relative when a comparison of things unequal, or a contrast indicating a preference or preponderance, is implied or expressed. Thus, * «« Emphasis is of two kinds, absolute and relative." «' Abso- lute emphasis takes place, when the peculiar eminence of the thought is solely — singly considered." Knowles. This wider view of emphasis, (and it ought, perhaps, to be ex- tended still more,) seems more just than the restricted application of it, as given by Walker. See farther on this subject Dr. Porter^ s Analysis, DEFINITION. 75 '* My voice is still for ?(Jar." '^A countenance more in sd7i^ow than in anger,'' Emphasis may be termed correspondent or antithetic, when there is a comparison of objects strictly equal, or a contrast not implying preference or preponderance. Thus, ''As is the beginning so is the end." ''In the one we most admire the man; in the other, the work," Emphasis is called single, when a contrast is re- stricted to two points; as in the following example: "We can do nothing against the truth, but /or the truth. Double and triple emphases are merely double and triple contrasts. Thus, " Custom is the plague of icise men, and the idol of fools," ^^ A friend cannot be known in prosperity, and an enemy cannot be hidden in adversity." "Emphatic phrase," is the designation of a clause in which there are several peculiarly significant or ex- pressive icords. " There was a time, then, my fellow- citizens, when the Lacedemonians were sovereign masters both by sea and land; while this state had not one ship — no, not — one — wall." "One of the most eminent mathematicians of the age, has assured me that the greatest pleasure he took in reading Vir- gil, was in examining uEneas's voyage by the map; as I question not but many a modern compiler of his- tory, would be delighted with little more — in that di- vine author — than the bare matters of fact. "^ * An unnecessary distinction is sometimes made in books on elocution between the above classes of examples ; the former being termed «' emphatic phrases," the latter, instances of «« harmonic inflection." The difibrence obviously lies in the inflected em- phasis applying in the former case to words singly, while, in the latter, it extends to clauses. The difierence is that w^hich exists between the simplm and the compound series. 76 EMPHASIS. Rule. Pronounce emphatic words with a clear and decided forcCj sufficient to render them dis- tinctly prominent, and to impart full energy of feel- ing, peculiar meaning, or marked discrimination. Errors. The prevaiUng fault as regards em- phasis, is the omission or slighting of it. Hence arises a feebleness of expression, or a gen- eral monotony, in consequence of which the voice fails in giving those distinctions, or conveying that force of feeling, which are inseparable from a distinct and animated manner. An omission of emphasis leaves the sense of whole passages obscure; and an error in the application of it, may cause an entire subversion of the meaning in- tended to be expressed. A sentence read without just emphasis, is an inert mass of sound, like a body destitute of life: the same sentence read with the dis- crimination and significance of true emphasis, be- comes, as it were, a living and active being, exerting its appropriate energies. The opposite fault is that o( excessive anxiety about emphasis, and an unnecessary and formal marking of it, by studied force of expression. This obtrusive tone is carefully to be avoided, as savouring of fastidiousness and pedantry, and indi- cating the presumption that the audience are so dull in intellect as not to appreciate the force of the speak- er's language, unless he remind them of it by pecuUar and pointed distinctions of voice. SUGGESTIONS. 77 A fault of local usage^ prevailing throughout New-England, is that of giving all emphasis with the tone of the circumflex. This peculiarity was mentioned under the head of inflection, and perhaps sufficiently explained to be clearly understood. It is a tone incompatible with simplicity and dignity of expression, and belongs properly to irony or ridicule, — to the peculiar signi- ficance of words and phrases embodying logical or grammatical niceties of distinction, — or to the studied and pecuHar emphasis which belongs to the utterance of a word intended to convey a pun. This fault would he avoided by giving emphasis with simple inflection, instead of the circumflex. See '^Errors in Inflec- tion."^ SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Pupils who fail in force of emphasis, may derive great assistance from an exercise founded on Walk- er's classification of emphasis, as expressed by the phrases '^unaccented," '* accented," and '^ emphatic" force. The first of these distinctions applies to the * The Rev. Dr. Porter's work on elocution, excellent as it is in other respects, seems to sanction this tone in a few instances. See J[7ialysis, _p. 84. The rising circumflex, however, in the cases alluded to, will be found by an attentive observer to constitute the distinguishing ac- cent of New-England, — not only as differing from the prevailing mode of emphasis in England, but from the current style of ex- pression in other parts of the United States, and imparting to the voice a peculiar and habitual turn of overdone emphasis. 78 EMPHASIS, degree of force with which we naturally utter par- ticles and other less significant words in a sentence such as the following: '^Exercise and temperance strengthen even an indifferent constitution." The words which in this sentence have only the ''unac- cented" force, are ''and/' "even," "an." The words which possess the second degree of force, or^ that which is called "accented," are "Exercise," "temperance," " strengthen," " constitution." This force they naturally receive as being more significant than the words mentioned above. The highest, or "emphatic" force, belongs to the distinctive word "indifferent," as containing the peculiar meaning of the sentence. These three degrees of force, if ex- pressed to the eye, in type, would be represented thus: Exercise and temperance strengthen even an in- different constitution. The exercise founded on these comparative degrees offeree, is the following. Let the pupil first be per- mitted to read a whole sentence with his usual and perhaps monotonous utterance; then let him be re- quired to repeat the sentence, using the second, or ac- cented, degree of force on all words but particles; and, lastly, repeating the sentence once more, let him add the highest or emphatic force on the word or words to which it belongs. This exercise should be repeated till the learner has acquired not only the power of discrimination as to these degrees of force, but the habit of expressing them fully and correctly. Mechanical as this exercise may seem, it has a pe- culiar intellectual value in securing the attention and exercising the judgment of young pupils. An exercise more strictly mental in its character, will be still more useful, — that of requiring of each EXERCISES. 79 pupil, previous to his reading a sentence, a statement of the sentiment in his own words. The object of this exercise is to aid in attaining a clear and accu- rate conception of the meaning, — the true prepara- tion for right emphasis. The emphasis o{ emotion may, in part, be communi- cated from the teacher's own reading, or to still better advantage by conversing with the pupils on the piece or passage which is read, so as to bring their minds into the right mood of feeling, by an interest in the subject. The faulty emphasis of circumflex may be removed by the discipline of repeated practice on the examples given under the head of inflection, and by expedients adapted to individual cases. Mutual correction by the pupils, will be very important here, as in all other departments of elocution. EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. Absolute emphasis in emotion: 1. fVo! wo! to the riders that trample them down! 2. Oh! joy for her whene'er in winter The winds at night had made a rout. And scattered many a lusty splinter, And many a rotten bough about! 3. In the deep stilless of the night. When weary labour is at rest. How lovely is the scene ! 4. And when the reapers end the day, Tired with the burning heat of noon, They'll come, with spirits light and gay, And bless thee, — lovely harvest moon. 80 EMPHASIS^. 5. On! on, like a cloiid, through their beautiful vales.. Ye locusts of tyranny! blasting them o'er! 6. Oh! what a tale that dreadful chilness told! 7. Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course? 8. Weep, Albyn! to death and captivity led! In designation: 1. The vales are thine: — and when the touch of Spring Thrills them, and gives them gladness, in thy light They glitter, — The hills are thine: — they catch they newest beam, And gladden in thy parting, — Thine are the mountains, — where they purely lift Snows that have never wasted, in a sky Which hath no stain; — The clouds are thine: and all their magic hues Are pencil'd by thee; 2. But I will not tire my reader's patience by pointing out all the pests of conversation: nor dwell particularly on the sensible, who pronounce dogmat- ically on the most trivial points, and speak m senten- ces; the wonder ers, who are always wondering what o'clock it is, or wondering whether it will rain or no, or wondering when the moon changes; the phrasedlo- gists, who explain a thing by all that, or enter into particulars with this and that and t'other; and lastly, the silent men, who seem afraid of opening their mouths, lest they should catch cold. EXERCISES. 81 Relative emphasis: [Repeat the second and third classes of examples in the Table of Inflections, and the examples of un- equal antithesis.] 1. I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon. Than such a Roman. 2. Slight are the outward signs of evil thought; Within — within — 'twas there the spirit wrought! 3. Did /, base wretch! corrupt mankind? The fault's in thy rapacious mind. 4. Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. The bounding steed you pompously bestride, Shares with-his lord the pleasure and the pride. Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. Thine the full harvest of the golden year? Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer, 5. It is not the scene of destruction which is before him. It is not the Tiber, diminished in his imagina- tion to a paltry stream, flowing amid the ruins of that magnificence which it once adorned. It is not the triumph of superstition over the wreck of human great- ness, and its triumphs erected on the very spot where the first honours of humdnity have been gained. It is ancient Rdme which fills his imagination. It is the country of Ccesar, and Cicero, and Virgil, which is before him. It is the mistress of the ivdrld which he sees, and who seems to him to rise again from her tomb, to give laws to the universe. 7 82 EMPHASIS. Correspondent and antithetic emphasis: [Read the examples and exercises given under the corresponding head, in the lesson on Inflections.] 1. I have always preferred cheerfulness to mirth. The latter I consider as an act, the former as a habit of the mind. Mirth is short and transient, cheerful^ ness fixed and permanent. Mirth is like a flash of lightning, that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and glitters for a moment; cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight in the mind, and fills it with a steady and per- petual serenity. 2. The very actions which they have only read I have partly seen and partly myself achieved. What they know by reading I know by action. They are pleased to slight m^ mean birth; I despise their mean characters. Want of birth and fortune is the objec- tion agsinst me, want of personal worth against them. Emphatic phrases : 1. Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the House in 3.fexo words what is really m^ opinion. It is, that the Stamp Act ought to be repealed- — absolutely TOTALLY and IMMEDIATELY. 2. And were I an American as I am an English- man, while a single foreign troop remained in my coun- try, I would never lay down my arms: — n^ver — never — NIEVER. PAUSES. 83 CHAPTER III. PAUSES. General Observations. Distinct articulation requires slowness of utterance, or that deliberate succession of sounds, which enables the hearer to distinguish them from one another, and thus to make those discrimina- tions in sense, which render what is read or spoken intelligible. Distinctness of speech, however, and clearness of meaning, require still further aid. It is not sufficient that the successive sounds of the voice, in letters and syllables, be kept from running into one another, and blending so as to cause confusion. A due distance must be preserved between those words which are not so closely connected in meaning as others. The intervals of sound, or cessations of voice, thus produced, are termed pauses. Their effect on the ear, is similar to that of distance be- tween objects in space, to the eye; aiding by the un- embarrassed action of the organ, the formation of clear and distinct conceptions in the mind. They sep- arate, in sound, what we wish to separate in sense; and, they serve, on the other hand, by the length or shortness of their duration, and the comparative in- terval of sound thus produced, to give us the idea of more or less intimate connexion between the suc- cessive parts of thought, as expressed in one or more sentences. Pauses may be viewed in another light, — as pro- ducing the effect of grouping or throwing together those words which are most closely connected in 84 PAUSES. meaning. Pausing has thus a double effect, — that of parting those portions of sound which would cause confusion, if united; and, at the same time, of joining those which would produce an incorrect signification, if separated. The cessation of the voice, therefore, at proper intervals, has the same effect nearly on clauses and sentences with that of articulation on syl-^ lables, or of pronunciation on words: it serves to gather up the sounds of the voice into relative por- tions, and aids in preserving clearness and distinction among them. But what those elementary and organic efforts do for syllables and words, — the minor portions of speech, — pausing does for clauses, sentences, and entire discourses. The great use of pauses is to di- vide thought into its constituent portions, and to leave the mind opportunity of contemplating each distinctly^ so as fully to comprehend and appreciate it, and, at the same time, to perceive its relation to the whole. Appropriate pauses are of vast importance, there- fore, to a correct and impressive style of delivery; and without them, indeed, speech cannot be intel- ligible. Pausing has, farther, a distinct office to perform in regard to the effect of feeling as conveyed by utter- ance. Awe and solemnity are expressed by long ces- sations of the voice; and grief, when it is deep, and at the same time suppressed, requires frequent and long pauses. The general effect, however, of correct and well- timed pauses, is what most requires attention. The manner of a good reader or speaker is distinguished, in this particular, by clearness, impressiveness, and dignity, arising from the full conception of meaning, and the deliberate and distinct expression of it; DEFINITION. 85 while nothing is so indicative of want of attention and of self-command, and nothing is so unhappy in its effect, as haste and confusion. Definition. Pauses are the intervals produced between words, clauses, sentences, and paragraphs, by those divisions of utterance which correspond to the portions of the sense.* JVb^e. The frequency with which pauses are to be introduced, cannot be regulated by the grammatical punctuation, which regards the syntactical structure of sentences, rather than the mode of pronouncing them; and which, though it is often coincident with the rhetorical or vocal pauses, is not uniformly so. Thus we have a comma or grammatical stop between the following words in writing: ''No, sir" — but none in speaking; — the phrase being pronounced nearly as one word, and producing the same sound to the ear as any word of two syllables, accented on the first. The following example, on the other hand, contains no grammatical stop; yet it requires, in appropriate reading, a long rhetorical pause between the words. ''He woke ^ ^ ^ to die." The length of a pause is not dependent on the value * The '* definitions" and «< introductory remarks" in each part, are expressed, rather with a view to their impression on young minds, than with a regard to that conciseness which might be preferable in a book intended for adults. The extent, therefore, to which explanation^as been sometimes carried, is not owing to any intrinsic difficulty in the subject, but to the desire of attract- ing the learner's attention to the nature and importance of particular branches of elocution, and especially of those in which the young are most apt to fail. 7# 86 PAUSES. of the grammatical stops, as is commonly taught, but on the meaning of what is read or spoken, as em- phatic or otherwise, and on the kind of emotion, as naturally slow or rapid in utterance, and as requiring long or short cessations of voice. In equable and calm expression, the pauses are moderate; in ener- getic language, when didactic or argumentative, the pauses are rendered long by the force of emphasis preceding them; in strong and deep emotion, they run to the extremes of brevity and of length, as the tone of passion happens to be abrupt and rapid, or slow and interrupted, in utterance. We may find, accordingly, the pauses made at the same grammati- cal stop of very different lengths in the same passage, or even in the same sentence, according to the turns of thought and feeling indicated by the language. There may be, in fact, as mentioned before, a long rhetorical pause where no grammatical stop could be used. Vocal pauses are uniformly the result of emphasis; every emphatic word having, as it were, an attractive power, by which it clusters round it more or less of the words preceding or following it; and the cessa- tion of the voice which is called a pause, is but a natural and necessary consequence of the organic effort used in uttering such a collection of sounds, embracing, as it always does, one syllable, at least, which demands a great impulse of the organs, and exhausts, in some cases of great energy in language, the supply of breath required for utterance. This fact regarding the effect of emphasis on pausing, may be traced, though to an extent compara- tively moderate, even in the secondary degree of em- phasis, or that which Walker has termed accented NOTE. S7 force. By pronouncing the sentence used as an ex- ample of that author's classification of emphasis, it will be found that a pause, distinct and observable, though short, follows every word to which this de- gree of force belongs, and that each of these words attracts or unites to itself, in pronunciation, the ''un- accented" word or w^ords preceding it: — the same thing would happen with unaccented words following an accented one, but closely connected with it in mean- ing. '' Exercise and temperance strengthen even an INDIFFERENT constUution.^^ This sentence, if divided to the eye, in type, as it is divided to the ear by the voice, would run thus: '' Exercise and temper- ance strengthen even an indifferent con- stitution;" or perhaps more strictly thus, ''Exercise and temperance strengthen evenanindifferent- constitution." Whatever holds true, in this respect, of words pos- sessing accented force, is still more strikingly so, when applied to those which are spoken with emphatic force; as may be observed by making a slight change on the form of the above sentence, so as to introduce the emphatic word where the pause which follows it may become perceptible. Thus, 'Even an indiffer- ent constitution is strengthened by exercise and tem- perance,' — expressed to the ear thus: " Evenan- mBJTFEREi^Tconstitution is strengthened by exercise and temperance. This sentence forms so short an example, that it contains only the minor pauses of discourse, — those which are not expressed at all, in grammatical punc- tuation. But the application of the principle is still more apparent, when the sentences are long and the clauses numerous, and, consequently, the grammati- 88 PAUSES. cal stops frequent. That emphasis is the key to pausing, will be fully apparent, by reverting to the preceding example, and observing the great length of pause intervening between the nominative and the verb, in this instance, compared to what takes place in the original form of the sentence. The meaning and the ear, then, and not the punc-- tuation, are to guide us in pausing, — any farther than " the latter happens to coincide with the former. Nor will there be any more difficulty thus occasioned in reading or speaking, than there is in conversation, in which, the idea of attending to pauses by any fixed mechanical rule, would be felt to be absurd. All that needs peculiar attention in reading and speaking,. as far as pausing is concerned, is this: that the greater force and slowness of utterance naturally required in these exercises, when performed in public, (implying a large space to be traversed by the voice,) and the more regular — perhaps, more formal — phraseology of written language, demand, even in private reading, longer and more frequent pauses than occur in con- versation. Still it is the sense of what is read or spoken, and no arbitrary system of punctuation, that is to guide the voice in this as in all other respects. Rule I. Make the same pauses in reading a sentence that would be used in expressing the sen- timent which it embodies^ if given in the same words in conversation ; using, however^ in decla- mation, or in public reading, the pause naturally required by the greater energy of utterance. This general rule may be applied in detail as fol- lows, in circumstances in which the grammatical stop RULES. 89 does not usuallij occur. ^ The pause will of course be much longer, if, in any case, an emphatic word is sub- stituted for one possessing only accented force. 1. A slight pause, sometimes called the ^^ rhetorical, ^^ (to distinguish it from the grammatical pause,) takes place between the principal verb in a sentence, and the word or words which express the subject of the sentence^ or form the nominative to the verb,— when the word if single, conveys an important idea, or when the nomina^ tive consists of several words, or is followed by other words dependent on it. Examples. ''The day | |has been considered as an image of the year, and a year | as the representation of life. The morning | answers to the spring, and the spring I to childhood and youth; the noon 1 cor- responds to the summer, and the summer | to the strength of manhood. The evening | is an emblem of autumn, and autumn | of declining life. The * These subordinate rules are given — not because they are deemed indispensably necessary, apart from the general rule of pausing according to the sense, but from their importance to young learners, whose customary habit of rapidity often prevents them from attending to distinct and appropriate pausing, as a part of the expression of sentiment. The particular applications of the general rule, contained in these subordinate ones, may afford use- ful practice in connexion with that view of pausing which makes it dependent on emphasis; and, by the influence of repetition, may suggest analogies in circumstances in which the reader has not enjoyed the advantage of a previous perusal of the piece which he is to read. t The pauses which illustrate the rule are indicated by the above mark. 90 PAUSES. night I shows the winter, in which all the powers of vegetation are benumbed, and the w'inter [ points out the time when life shall cease." '^Hatred and anger | are the greatest poison to the mind." *^ Our schemes of thought in childhood | are lost in those of youth." ^ £. Jl brief phrase occurring between the nominative and the verb, is separated from both by a short pause. Ex. ''AH floats on the surface of that river which I with swift current | is running towards a bound- less ocean." 3. tR phrase occurring between an active verb arid the word which it governs, is separated as above. Ex, ''I saw I standing beside me | a form of diviner features and a more benign radiance." 4. *R phrase occurring between one verb and another which it governs in the infinitive mood, is separated from the latter, Ex. ''Whether 'tis nobler in the mind j; to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing | end them." — 5. Jl short pause takes place cohere the parts of a sentence might be transposed. Ex. " The greatest misery is | to be condemned by our own hearts." 6. When an adjective fottoivs its substantive, it is parted from it by a short pause. Ex, " It was a calculation j accurate to the last degree." RULES. 91 7. When one substantive is made dependent on another by a preposition, and is folloiced by other words in close connexion, a short pause taJces place before the prepo- sition, Ex. '*I would rather look upon a tree in all its luxuriance and diffusion | of boughs and branches, than when it is cut and trimmed into a mathematical figure." 8. Relative pronouns, conjunctions, and prepositions, and all other parts of speech used for transition or con" nexion, are preceded by a short pause. Ex, ^'Nothing is in vain | that rouses the soul to activity." *'I must be pardoned for this short tribute to the memory of a man | who, while living, would as much detest to receive any thing that wore the ap- pearance of flattery, as I should to offer it." ''Homer's style^ is more simple | and animated; Virgil's^ more elegant | and uniform." '^ The former has, on many occasions, a sublimity I to which the latter never attains." ''We were to drag up oceans of gold | from the bottom of the sea." "There is nothing which we estimate so falla- ciously I as the strength of our own resolutions." "What ought to be done | while it yet hangs only in speculation, is plain and certain." "His character requires | that he estimate the happiness of every condition." * In order to avoid confusion, the rhetorical pause is marked, in «ach instance, in that place only which exemplifies the rule. 92 PAUSES. 9. Jl short pause takes place at an ellipsis or omis- sion of words. Ex, '' Homer was the greater genius, Virgil I the better artist." Rule IL A full and long pause, — several times the usual length of that of a period, — is required between paragraphs, particularly when these con- tain important divisions of a subject or a discourse, in which case they may be properly prolonged to double their own usual length. The comparative length of this pause depends on the character of the piece, as grave and serious or fa- miliar and light, and on the length and importance of paragraphs as principal or subordinate. In general, it should not be shorter than twice the length of the pause usually jnade at a period. Errors. The common fault in regard to pauses, is that they are made too short for clear and dis- tinct expression. Feeble utterance and defective emphasis, along with rapid articulation, usually combine to produce this fault in young readers and speakers. For, what- ever force of utterance or energy of emphasis, or whatever rate of articulation we accustom ourselves to use, our pauses are always in proportion to it. Undue brevity in pausing has a like bad effect with too rapid articulation: it produces obscurity and con- fusion in speech, or imparts sentiment in a manner which is deficient and unimpressive, and prevents the SUGGESTIONS. 93 proper effect both of thought and language. To be fully convinced how much of the clearness, force, and dignity of style, depends on due pauses, we have only to advert for a moment to the effect of rapid reading on a passage of Milton, and observe what an utter subversion of the characteristic sublimity of the author seems to take place. This instance is, no doubt, a strong and peculiar one. But a similar result, though less striking, may be traced in the hurried reading of any piece of composition characterised by force of thought or dignity of expression. SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. When habitual rapidity of voice and omission of pause, are difficult to correct, the learner may be re- quired to accompanij the teacher^s voice in the practice of sentences. This simultaneous reading, if suffi- ciently long continued, will probably prove effectual for the cure of habitual faults. A second stage of progress may be entered on, when the learner's im- provement will warrant it; and he may be perm.itted to read after the teacher. Pupils who possess an ear for music, may be taught to observe that there is in reading and speaking a *' time," as distinct and perceptible, and as important, as in singing, or in performing on any instrument; and that pauses are uniformly measured with refer- ence to this time. The poetry of Milton v/ill furnish, in the sonorous flow of its language, the best matter for exercises in regular pausing, that can be found in any English author. But the selection of passages, must, of course, be adapted to the capacity of the reader. 8 94 PAUSES. Exercises in simultaneous reading, embracing en- tire classes, may be useful in teaching large numbers of pupils; as the necessity of timing the movement of the voice, and regulating the duration of pauses, is in: such circumstances fully felt; and not, unfrequently, an individual who has little control over the rate of his own voice, when reading alone, will gain a great < power over it, when acting under the impulse of sym- pathy in simultaneous reading. When this form of practice is adopted, ihe length of every pause may be determined by a motion of the teacher.^ Pieces for practice may be selected as follows : first, for frequent and long pauses, passages from Ossian, or other authors abounding in grand and gloomy description; secondly, for pauses not so fre- quent or so long a& in the preceding style, but still of considerable length, — passages from Thomson's Sea- sons, or any other descriptive poem to which the ca- pacities of learners may be thought adequate. De- clamatory pieces in poetry or in prose, may be taken as the next sta>ge of practice; and didactic discourses or essays may succeed to these. In both of these last- mentioned kinds of exercise, however, the selection of * Much time must necessarily be spent in training some pupils to just and discriminating pauses. Carelessness and haste in ex- pression, seem to be natural tendencies of voice, with the young; and early neglect is so prevalent in whatever regards the exercise of speech, that incorrect habit is fully formed, in most instances, long before the learner has become capable of distinguishing be- tween right and wrong, and their necessary consequences, in thi& department of elocution. It becomes important for the teacher ,^^ therefore, to commence and continue his efforts as a reformer rather than an instructer, and to devise and adopt many mechan« ical expedients which would be unnecessary but for the existence ©f erroneous habit. TONES ANJD MODULATION. 9S matter for practice, will, in the case of young pupils, require much attention, lest, from the thoughts and the language being either unintelligible or uninterest- ing, the reading may be performed merely as a verbal exercise, and with those uniform and mechanical pauses which form a prominent fault in what is called the ''scfiool-boy " style. Familiar pieces in the nar- rative and descriptive styles, should form the la^ stage of practice in this department. CHAPTER IV. TONES AND MODULATION. General Observations. The preceding parts of this work refer chiefly to those modifications of voic^ which are used in &e expression oi' thought, and which are addressed to the understanding, ratheJ* than the feelings. The chief use of inflections, emphasis, and pauses, is to regulate vocal expression with reference to meaning in general, or the sense of particular words, clauses, and sentences. But there are other qualities of voice to be considered in the full expres- sion of a sentiment, — those which indicate /eeZmg* or emotion, rather than intellectual distinctions ; and which, though they naturally accompany, with more or less vividness, all our thoughts, yet admit of being considered separately from them, in an analysis or examination of vocal expression. These qualities of 96 TONES AND MODULATION. voice are comprehended under the name of tones and modulation: their office is to impart the states of mind corresponding to the emotions of joy, grief, fear, courage, anger, hatred, pity, love, awe, reverence, 8lc. In poetical and empassioned language, tones are often the most prominent and the most important qual- ities of voice; and to give these with propriety, force^ and vividness, is the chief excellence of good reading or recitation. The language of prose, being gener- ally less imaginative and exciting, does not require the extent and power of tone used in poetry. But as true feeling is, in both cases, the same in kind, though not in degree, and as no sentiment can be uttered naturally without the tone of its appropriate emotion, and no thought, indeed, can arise in the mind without a degree of emotion; a great importance is attached, even in the reading or speaking of prose composition,^ to those qualities of voice comprehended under the name of tones. Without these, utterance would de- generate into a merely mechanical process of articu- lation. It is these that give impulse and vitality to thought, and which constitute the chief instruments of eloquence. Definition. Tones are those qualities of voice which express emotions considered singly. Modu- lation is the variation of voice in successive tones, and consecutive passages. JYote, Tones may be considered individually or singly, as occurring in particular passages, or per- vading a whole piece, when the tenor of the language implies but one prevalent feeling or emotion. Thus, we may take, as an example of a single tone, the strain DEFINITION. 97 of utterance prevailing in Milton's L' Allegro, which is that of gaiety, cheerfulness, and mirth, or that of the same author's II Penseroso, which is in the vein of melancholy, grave musing, and deep contempla- tion. In either case, th« reading or recitation pre- sents to the ear one predominating tone. Composi- tions, on the other hand, which express a succession of various emotions, call forth a corresponding variety of tones; and the voice may be contemplated in its movements not only as giving utterance to each of these singly, in an appropriate manner, but as chang- ing itself, so as to become adapted to each in succes- sion, and thus assuming, at every stage of feeling, a new character. The varied modulation so produced would be exemplified in Collins's Ode on the Passions, or Dryden's St. Cecilia's Day,— in both of which, the number and variety of emotions introduced, cause a perpetual varying of tone in the reading. Single Tones. Every tone may have its chief characteristics class- ed under the three following heads: force, pitch, and rate. 1st. Force, — regarding the impulse of sound, and characterising a tone as loud, faint, or moderate in utterance. 2d. Pitch, — regarding the strain of voice in which words are uttered as on high, low, or middle notes of the musical scale. 3d. Rate, — regarding the utterance or the articulation as rapid, slow, or mod- erate. Forcible and loud tones belong to the following and simildLV forcible feelings or emotions: joy, courage, ad- miration, when strongly expressive, — anger, indigna^ Hon, revenge, terror, 8# 98 TONES AND MODULATION. Gentle, soft, or iveak tones characterise fear, when not excessive, — pity, love, admiration, in its moderate expression, — tenderness, grief and sorrow, when not excessive, — all of which imply comparative /eetZeness of feeling. Fear and grief in excess, become loud. Low notes, as naturally coinciding with deep feelings are the appropriate expression o^ awe, sublimity , solem- nity, reverence, amazement, indignation, anger, when " grave and deep, — horror. High notes belong to the extremes oi joy, and of grief; they characterise the tone of terror; they pre- vail, also, in pathetic and tender expression. They occur, sometimes, in violent anger and in scorn. Slowness characterises the ton^s of grave and se- date feeling — aive, sublimity, solemnity, reverence, pity, admiration, and grief, when deep and subdued, rather than violent. Rapidity marks the tones of excited and agitated feeling, — anger, eagerness, hurry, confusion, fear, ter- ror, joy, and sometimes g'He/', when strongly expressed. The various tones of the voice, if classed in the form of a regular scheme, or table, by their promi- nent characteristics oi force, pitch, and rai^e, maybe arranged thus: Loud, high, quick; B.sjoy, &c. Soft, low, slow; as aive, &c. Strong emotion inclines to the extremes of tone, in all these qualities. Thus, if we take the tones of re- venge and of pity, as examples of the manner in which the preceding classification is applied to single tones, we shall find the former distinguished by loud utter- ance, a loiv pitch, and a rapid articulation; as may be observed in the following passage: DEFINITION. 99 ^^Revenge^ re\renge!" Timotheus cries; * ^ * *' Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew!" The tone of pity, on the contrary, has a soft or faint utterance, a high note, and a sloiv rate, '^ Swung in his careless hand, she sees (Poor ewe!) a dead, cold weight, 'The little one her soft, warm fleece So fondly cherish 'd late.'^ Moderate emotions, or tranquil states of mind, are distinguished by a moderate force, the middle pitch, and a moderate rate; as in the following example: *' When breezes are soft, and skies are fair, I steal an hour from study and care, And hie me away to the woodland scene, Where wanders the stream with waters of green; As if the bright fringe of herbs on its brink Had given their stain, to the wave they drink." The same general class of tones predominates in the reading of common narration or description, in prose. ''Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw every thing with a new purpose ; my sphere of attention was suddenly magnified: no kind of knowledge was to be overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts for images and resemblances, and pictured upon my mind every tree of the forest and flower of the valley. I observed with equal care the crags of the rock and the pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wandered along the mazes of the rivulet, and sometimes watch- ed the changes of the summer clouds." The moderate order of tones prevails also in the style of essays and discourses. 100 TONES AND MODULATION. " If the relation of sleep to night and, in some in- stances, its converse, be real, we cannot reflect with- out amazement upon the extent to which it carries us. Day and night are things close to us, the change ap- plies immediately to our sensations; of all the phe- nomena of nature it is the most obvious, and the most familiar to our experience: but in its causes it be- longs to the great motions which are passing in the heavens. Whilst the earth glides round her axle, she ministers to the alternate necessities of the ani- mals dwelling upon her surface, at the same time that she obeys the influence of those attractions which regulate the order of many thousand worlds. The re- lation, therefore, of sleep to night, is the relation of the inhabitants of the earth to the rotation of their globe: probably it is more; it is a relation to the sys- tem of which that globe is a part; and, still further, to the congregation of systems, of which theirs is only one. If this account be true, it connects the meanest individual with the universe itself; a chicken roosting upon its perch, with the spheres revolving in the firmament." Successive Tones, The tones of the voice are now to be considered as occurring in succession, according to the various sen- timents introduced in the course of the composition; and producing that frequent and easy variation of the voice^ by which it changes in force, pitch, and rate, * Tone and «' modulation" are usually presented as distinct and separate qualities in the management of the voice. This arrange- ment is unfavourable to a natural cultivation of vocal expression. It renders modulation more difficult than it really is, by represent- DEFINITION. 101 accommodating itself to the varying character of the language, giving to every shade of thought and emo- tion its appropriate utterance, and forming a stream of voice which deepens or expands, retards or accel- erates its current, and shifts its course, according to the varying flow of style. The general tone of read- ing is thus made to resemble that of free and animated conversation on interesting subjects. The importance of this principle of adaptation of voice, may be perceived by adverting to the fact, that nothing so impairs the effect of delivery, as the want of spirit and expression in elocution. No gravity of tone, or intensity of utterance, or precision of enun- ciation, can atone for the absence of that natural change of voice, by which th« ear is enabled to re- ceive and recognise the tones of the various emotions accompanying the train of thought which the speaker is expressing. These, and these only, can indicate his own sense of what he utters, or communicate it by sympathy to his audience. The adaptation of the voice to the expression of sentiment, is not less im- portant, when considered in reference to meaning, as dependent on distinctions strictly intellectual, or not necessarily implying a vivid or varied succession of emotions. The correct and adequate representation jng it as necessarily a different thing from tone, an attainment which occurs late in the order of acquisition^ and as one for which a young learner is not responsible. Variation of tone being thus neglected in the early stages of instruction and practice, a hard, unmeaning and wearisome monotony is unavoidably contracted, which it becomes difficult to throw off, when at last felt to be an evil; and is even then displaced, for the most part, by forced at- tempts at a rhetorical variety, as far removed from nature and true taste as the measured sameness of school reading. 102 TONES AND MODULATION, of continuous or successive thought, requires its ap- propriate intonation ; as may be observed in those tones of voice which naturally accompany discussion and argument, even in their most moderate forms. The modulation or varying of tone is important, also, as a matter of cultivated taste: it is the appropriate grace of vocal expression. It has a charm founded., in the constitution of our nature; it touches the finest and deepest sensibilities of the soul; it constitutes the spirit and eloquence of the human voice, whether re- garded as the noblest instrument of music, or the ap- pointed channel of thought and feeling. The pitch of voice which may be referred to most con- veniently, as a standard, is that of animated conversation. The average force of voice may be taken as that which is sufficient for appropriate and intelligible utterance. The middle^ or common rate of articulation, 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 trans- ition or passing from one ^extreme to another of one or more of these qualities. Strong emotion will re- quire marked, and great, and, sometimes, sudden changes; whilst, in moderate emotion, the changes will be slight and gradual. The variation required in passing from one degree of force to another, is termed modulation;^ the change from one note or pitch to another, transition; — from one movemerd to anotbei', as fast or slow, — change of rate. The following passage from Collins'^ Ode will afford * This term, however, is often used, in a wide sense, for vari- ation in general EXAMPLES. 103 a good example of variation. In passing from the tone of Melancholy to that of Cheerfulness, it will be observed that the voice changes from a faint utter- ance, low note, and slow rate, to a strain which is comparatively /orci6/e, high^ and rapid. Melancholy : * ' Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole. Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing. Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away. Cheerfulness : But, O! how altered was its sprightlier tone, When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gem'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung! — The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known." The variations which take place in the reading of 2)rose depend, of course, on the variety of the style and the character of the language. In some pieces abounding in varied emotion and figurative expression, the manner being nearly that of poetry, the tones of voice become assimilated to it by vivid and frequent modulation, sudden and great transitions, and a con- tinually varying rate of utterance. From this extreme of style in composition and in delivery, we may descend through various stages, till we come to the ordinary manner of prose, in which we find plain Ian- 104 TONES AND MODtTLATION. guage prevailing, but interspersed occasionally with figurative and descriptive passages, which call for va- riation of tone, in order to produce a natural and ap- propriate expression. The changes which occur in animated narration and description, may be exemplified in the following extract. 1. ''As I was once sailing in a fine stout ship across the banks of Newfoundland, one of the heavy fogs that prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible for me to see far ahead, even in the day-time; but at night the weather was so thick, that we could not dis- tinguish any object at twice the length of our ship. — 2. I kept lights at the masthead, and a constant watch forward to look out for fishing smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. — 3. The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the water. — 4. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of ' a sail ahead!' but it was scarcely uttered, till we were upon her. — 5. She was a small schooner at anchor, v/ith her broadside towards us. — 6. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected . to hoist a light. — 7. We struck her just amid-ships. — 8. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel, bore her down below the waves; we passed over her, and were hurried on our course. 9. As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches, rushing from her cabin; they had just started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. — • 10. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind.— 11. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all further hearing.— 12. I shall never for- get that cry! — 13. It was some time before we could EXAMPLES. 105 put the ship about, she was under such headway. — 14. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to the place where the smack was anchored. — 15. We cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. — 16. We fired several guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors; but all was silent — we never heard nor saw any thing of them more!" The principal changes of tone in the appropriate reading of this piece, are the follov/ing: — a change of force and rate occurs on leaving the moderate tone with which a narrative generally commences, and which continues till circumstances of interest are in- troduced. The moderate commencing tone prevails in the first two sentences of the first paragraph, and is succeeded in the third sentence, ''The wind was blowing," &c. by a tone of greater force and quicker rate, but not abruptly introduced. This change arises from the increasing animation and interest of the nar- rative, and corresponds, in force and vivacity, to the nature of the circumstance mentioned in the sentence. The next sentence, (4.,) '' Suddenly the watch gave the alarm," Sec. opens with an abrupt and sud- den change to the tone of alarm and agitation, which is marked by rapid, forcible, and hurried articulation, and a higher note than that of the preceding sentence. The next change is at the clause ''but it was scarcely uttered," &c. The voice drops at once to the deep and slow tone of awe and horror, but passes, at the close of the sentence, into the hurried tone of terror. In the next two sentences, (5. and 6.,) the strain of ordinary narrative is resumed; the tone resembling that used at the commencement of the piece. The 9 106 TONES AND MODULATION. voice rises, then, in pitch, and returns to the moderate degrees oi force and rate. In the short sentence, (7.,) ^^ We struck her," &c. the voice assumes the same tone as at the clause^ *^till we were upon her;" adding the force of partic- ular and earnest description, which gives great inten- sity to the tone. The change here, then, is from the^ moderate qualities oi utterance to great force, low pitch, and comparatively quick rate. The change in the next sentence, (8.,) is chiefly that to a slower rate; the voice adapting itself in this way to the dilation of the description. Great energy and the low pitch still prevail. Ai the clause, ''we passed over her," &c. the tone varies to one approaching the common manner of nar- rative; the circumstance introduced being mentioned as one inevitable and necessary. As the associations of the mind, however,^ are still those of awe and pity, the utterance is very slow,_ the pitch inclines to a low note, though higher than before, and the force is mod- erate. A slight acceleration and increase of force take place at the close, '' and were hurried on our course." This as well as other changes which have been men- tioned, are owing to the natural sympathy of the mind^ arising from the interest excited by what is described. Care must always be taken, however, that this mod- erate and natural influence on the tone of the voice be not displaced by exaggeration and false extremes of expression. The utterance of feeling ever requires the exercise of discriminating judgement and true taste. The commencing sentence of the second para- graph, (9.,) is characterised by a progressive increase of force, a pitch gradually dropping, and a rate of ut-- terance constantly accelerating till the close. This- EXAMPLES. 107 change is produced by the succession of circumstan- ces of awe and terror, heightening from point to point, till they reach a climax. The tone of terror mingling with awe, as it becomes more and more intense, grows louder, lower, and more rapid in utterance. This tone is necessarily acquired from the sympathy of the mind with the scene presented to it; unless the reading proceeds from a mere mechanical attention to the words rather than the thoughts of the writer. The next sentence, (10,,) deepens the tone produced by the preceding, and, for the hurried expression of terror, substitutes the s/ot(; manner o^ solemnity, and its more moderate utterance as io force. The tone changes, in the next sentence, (11.,) to a strain approaching that of ordinary narration, and re- sembling very closely that of the clause, ^^we passed over her," which occurred near the close of the first paragraph. The utterance is, in all respects, mod^ crate, but inclines still to slowness. The short sentence that follows, (12.,) repeats the tone of that beginning, '' I heard their drowning cry," &c. but with still more intensity in all respects; the emotion being that of horror, which is expressed by the greatest depth and force of utterance, uniting with the utmost slowness. The ordinary style of serious narrative — that of moderate utterance in all respects— returns at the next sentence, (13.,) and continues till the phrase, '' but all was silent," in the last sentence, (16.,) which takes the low notes, slow utterance, and subdued force of solem- nity. The concluding clause contains all these quali- ties more pecidiarly marked, as the emotion passes from solemnity to aive. The emphatic manner of the con- 108 TONES AND MODULATION. elusion, however, implies more energy of utterance than belongs to the preceding clause.^ The lively interest of narrative compositions pro- duces more striking and more numerous variations of voice, than are usually required in the style of essays or discourses. But, even in this class of writings,, there are frequent and obvious changes of tone, ari- sing from the nature of the thoughts which are ex- pressed, and their connexion and relations in the order in which they are presented to the mind. The following passage may be taken as an example. 1. '^Even looking forward to a single day, the spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labours, the trials to temper and patience, that may be expected.— 2. Now this is unjustly lay- ing the burden of many thousand moments upon one, — 3. Let any one resolve always to do right noWy leaving then to do as it can; and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, he would never do wrong. — 4. But the common error is to resolve to act right after breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morn- ing, or next time; but noiu, just now^ this once, we must go on the same as ever. 5, It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered person to resolve that the next time he is provoked he will not let his temper overcome him; but the victory would be to subdue temper on the present provoca- tion. — 6. If, without taking up the burden of the fu- ture, we would always make the single effort at the * The learner will perhaps acquire a more distinct idea of vari- ation by repeating, in the manner described, the whole extract, before proceeding to other points in this lesson. EXAMPLES. 109 present moment; while there would at any one time be very little to do^ yet, by this simple process con- tinued, every thing would at last be done. 7. It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to- day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. — 8. Thus life passes with many, in resolutions for the future which the present never fulfils." The chief modifications of voice in this piece are as follows. The tone of the first sentence is in the deliberate and distinct manner with which a piece in the didactic style usually commences ; the object being generally a clear and correct communication of thought, rather than the expression of emotion; or, at least, the former preponderating in the utterance. In the reading of narrative and descriptive pieces there is less danger of misapprehension or mistake, and the greater interest naturally attached to these forms of writing, more readily secures the attention. No effort, therefore, is required on the part of the reader, in commencing a piece, to produce the right effect; and the tone, when appropriate, intimates no anxiety for the result. Didactic compositions, on the contrary, being often designed to express distinctions^ of thought, to enforce truth, or inculcate opinions, naturally require a more attentive and exact style of reading, distinguished more by distinct enunciation, correct emphasis, and appropriate pauses, as the nat- ural characteristics of intellectual expression. The tone of didactic reading, therefore, differs from that of narration or description, in commencing with a fuller degree of energy, and a more regular sloivness of articulation; as the very first point in a train of thought is of the utmost importance to a clear ^nd coo:* 9# 110 tONES AND MODlTLAtlON. rect conception of the whole, and requires a full and distinct expression. The tone of the second sentence differs from that of the first, in commencing on a loiv strain, and gracU ttally rising towards the close, — a tone arising from the argumentative character of the sentence, and its close connexion with the preceding. The same man-^ ner of commencing prevails in the third and fourth sentences, and also in the opening of the second para- graph, for the same reason as before. This last sen- tence being intended as an illustration or example to the preceding, and thrown in somewhat as a paren- thesis commonly is, — suspending, for a moment, the train of thought, — it is to be read in the parenthetic manner of loiv note, diminished force, and quicker rate of utterance. The second sentence of the second paragraph re- turns to the general style of thought throughout the piece, and is not so closely connected with antece- dent meaning as the sentences which precede it. The tone, of voice, therefore, resumes the ordinary strain of didactic expression, as at the commence- ment of the first sentence. In passing, accordingly, into this sentence, from the preceding, the utterance becomes higher in pitch, is increased in force, and adopts a slower rate. The third paragraph commences with a sentiment still more general than that expressed in the pre- ceding sentence. The tone of voice will conse- quently be of the same character as before, but with an additional degree of each quality. The concluding sentence of the extract forms the conclusion of a train of thought, and is read with the tone of a closing remark — on a lower strain of voice^ ERRORS. Ill with 3. forcible though somewhat moderated utterance, and a sloiv, deliberate movement. These character- istics in the tone are rendered more distinct, in this instance, by the serious and impressive cast of thought introduced in the sentence. Errors. The common faults, in single tones, are, 1st. A mechanical unmeaning sameness of voice, v^hich indicates the absence of appropriate feeling, and deprives spoken language of its natu- ral expression, by divesting it of the tones of feeling. 2d. A want of force and vividness in tone, though otherwise appropriate, — a fault which ren- ders delivery feeble, uninteresting, and unim- pressive. 3d. An excessive force of tone, usually attend- ed by a mouthing or a drawling manner, — a style utterly repugnant to correct taste, and subversive of genuine emotion. 4th. A7i habitual and personal tone, which characterises the individual speaker merely, and is not the appropriate expression of feeling, but rather interferes with and prevents it. The first two of these faults would be avoided by entering deeply and fully into the sentiment which is expressed in the language of the piece read or spoken. This can be done only by giving to it that earnest and steadfast attention, which is required to produce in- terest and sympathy in the mind, — the true source of appropriate and natural tones. 112 TONES AND MODULATION. The third error arises from the habit of allowing the attention to float on the stream of language, in- stead of directing it to the thoughts expressed in what is read. The harmonious succession of the words, and not the force or beauty of the ideas, becomes in- voluntarily the object which occupies the mind; and hence arises a measured and rythmical flow of tone, adapted to clauses and sentences according to their sound, rather than their sense. This fault is usually exemplified in the recitation of poetry, or in the speaking of declamatory pieces in prose, and par- ticularly on "exhibition" occasions, at schools and colleges. This habit of tone would be overcome by directing the attention to the thought as exclusively as possible; — not suffering the mind to linger upon the phraseology, but endeavouring to attune the ear to a style of delivery flowing from the energy and harmony of thought, rather than of expression. The fourth class of errors, being as various as the habits of individuals, cannot be specifically de- scribed. They are necessarily points of attention be- tween teachers and pupils individually. Among the errors which may be traced in the tones of the voice; when considered as occurring in succession^ is an inflexible sameness of voice> varying nothing in pitch, force, or rate; — words and sentences being merely pronounced as so many groups of syllables, and no change of note of of tone indicating any transition of thought or feeling. Another error lies in an aflfected and rhetorical manner, which introduces arbitrary changes of RULES. 113 tone, without regard to meaning ; the voice of the speaker rising and faUing, swelhng and diminishing at intervals, merely for the sake of variety to the ear. The bad consequences of these faults are obvious. By monotony in reading we lose as much nearly as we should in conversation by pronouncing every word exactly in the same key: the voice becomes insipid and childish in its tone; meaning is entirely extracted from it; sense is sacrificed to timidity or awkward- ness of habit; and the mental power of utterance is exchanged for a dull and lifeless uniformity of organic exercise, — unworthy of a human being, and resem- bling rather the reiterated sound of a machine. Rhetorical affectation, on the other hand, is dis- gusting 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 substitutes a ridiculous parade of art for the simple and unstudied eloquence of nature. Rule I. Let every tone have its true and full, but chaste expression, — whether that of energy and loudness, or of pathos and tenderness. II. Let the tone vary with the sentiment in successive clauses and sentences. III. In the tones of energetic dehvery let there be no mouthing force or drawling sound. IV. Guard against false inflections and wrong eadences. V. Sentences characterised by moderate emo- 114 TONES AND MODULATION. tiori; but which are nearly related in signification, — whether by direct connexion, as intimated by a conjunction, or in the particularising, amplifying, or illustrating of one thought by another, — are read with a tone which preserves, at the opening of every new sentence, the lowest note of the ca- dence of the preceding sentence. VI. Sentences not connected as above, re- quire a new pitch at the commencement of each, expressive of a new or unconnected thought. This pitch should be more or less high, as the idea em- bodied in the sentence is more or less distinct from those contained in that which precedes it, or the sentiment is more or less grave in its character, and inclines accordingly to a low tone.^ SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. Instructors commonly consider this branch of elocu- tion as one of late and difficult attainment, or as a finishing accomplishment in this department of edu- cation, and accordingly omit it entirely in early in- struction. As a consequence of this neglect, juve- nile tones in reading are usually so defective, that nothing is more common than to desio-nate a mechan- ical and inexpressive style of voice as a '' school-boy " tone. The origin of faults of this description is not in the difficulty of the thing itself, but in the meth- ods which are adopted in teaching, and the gen- * The last two rules may be illustrated by referring to the second prose extract given as an illustration of successive tones. StJGGESTIONS. 115 eral custom of requiring that school-boys should read what they either do not fully understand or cannot take an interest in. This last circunistance is, in fact, the great cause of the prevalence of un- meaning and inappropriate tones at school. For let the young be required to read only what is adapted to their capacities and taste; and, if wrong habit has not become previously fixed by wrong exercises, the vivacity of the young mind, and the fresh and pliant tones of the juvenile voice, will give an expression in- finitely more true and eloquent than we ever hear from adults. Early practice in modulation is of the utmost im- portance, as the foundation of good habit; and this department of elocution, instead of being deferred till late in the course, should be introduced as early as possible, and cultivated with the utmost attention. It is in the very earliest stage of education that the false tone so commonly heard in school, is con- tracted; and the recent improvement in elementary books, affords at least a few pieces, in most, which young readers feel to be natural to their minds, and which they can read with true tones. Lessons of this sort should be repeatedly and carefully read, for practice in tones, apart from the other objects of read- ing, with a view to direct the attention of young learn- ers more clearly and more successfully to this point. The first object of attention in practising, in this department of elocution, should be to eradicate faulty personal tones, as influenced by habits of utterance, articulation, inflection, emphasis, or cadence. The imitation of incorrect tones may sometimes be neces- sary, to give the learner a distinct conception of his 116 TONES AND MODULATION. fault. This may be done by the teacher or by the pupils mutually, as may seem expedient. The next point is to succeed in producing force and appropriateness in tone and facility in variation. One expedient for this purpose is by frequent illus- trations and repetitions to impress on the pupil's mind the difference between true and false tones of voice, — ^ those of dignified conversation, and those of familiar talk, or of mechanical and monotonous reading. Another means of rectifying errors of this class, is, by interesting conversation and illustrative anec- dote to bring the learner's mind into the right mood of emotion, for the full expression of sentiment; and this is peculiarly important when pieces have been previously and repeatedly read, as a matter of rou- tine, till the attention has become dull and the feel- ings indifferent. The pupil's own attentive study of the meaning of what he reads, however, is tb^ b^st security for natural force and variation of tone. Little improvement can be made in intonation, till the learner has acquired the power of abstracting his attention from a mechan- ical enunciation of the words he is reading, and can fix his mind with such force on the thoughts as to make them his own. He must get rid of the idea of words and phrases, clauses and sentences, and fasten on the mental objects presented to him; so that he may express these as if they rose before him at the moment of utterance. Sameness of tone arises from too exclusive attention to words. In the mechanical and monotonous exercise of adding syllable to sylla^ ble, and word to word, the free play of the mind is lost, and its power over the voice consequently di- minished. This effect is a very natural result of the SUGGESTIONS. il7 usual method of instruction in the elements of read- ing; and to shake off the habits caused by such influ- ence, is the first step towards improvement. The teacher may, by his selection of exercises in reading, do much to favour the acquisition of easy and natural tones of the voice; if care is only taken that no piece be read which is above the comprehension •of young readers, or not adapted to their taste. Mo- notonous 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 me- chanical attention to words; and in reading or speak- ing, the tones of the voice, (as they are always a true echo to the actual state of feeling,) will indicate the fact by formal and unmeaning utterance. In practising on particular passages which are found difficult, the teacher must show the pupil the nature of the tone or of the variation required — by practical illustration; guarding, however, against the pupil's imitating or rather mimicking his teacher's tone, instead of acquiring one of his own; since a natural manner, though tame, is preferable to one which borrows its liveliness from affectation. A great advantage may be derived from illustrations drawn from the tones of music, when pupils possess a sufficient knowledge of that art; — its terms being more definite and exact than those of elocution. Exercises in dialogue and in dramatic pieces, if ju- diciously selected, are of great practical utility, as means of imparting animation and variety of tone. 10 118 TONES. EXERCISES. SINGLE TONES. Force or loudness: 1. Again to the battle Achaians! Our hearts bid the tyrants' defiance. * # # we've sworn, by our country's assaulters, By the virgins they've dragg'd from our altars, By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins. That living, we will be victorious, Or that dying, our deaths shall be glorious, A breath of submission we breathe not. The sword that we've drawn we will sheath not; Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid. And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. Earth may hide — waves ingulph — fire consume us, But they shall not to slavery doom us: — If they rule it shall be o'er our ashes and graves. But we've smote them already with fire on the waves, And new triumphs on land are before us; — To the charge! — Heaven's banner is o'er us, 2. Scots who have with Wallace bled, Scots whom Bruce has often led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to victory ! Now's the day and now's the hour; See the front of battle lower, See approach proud Edward's power, Chains and slavery! Who would be a traitor knave ? Who would fill a coward's grave? EXERCISES. 119 Who so base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Who for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, — Freeman stand or freeman fall? Let him on with me! By oppression's woes and pains, By your sons in servile chains, — *' We will drain our dearest veins But they shall be free." Lay the proud usurpers low; Tyrants fall in every foe, Liberty's in every blow, — '' Let us do — or die." Softness orfaintness of utterance: There is no breeze upon the fern, No ripple on the lake; Upon her eyrie nods the em, The deer hath sought the brake; The small birds will not sing aloud. The springing trout lies still; So darkly glooms yon thunder cloud. That swathes, as with a purple shroud, Benledi's distant hill. # ^ # # # There breathed no wind their crests to shake, Or wave their flags abroad, — Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake That shadowed o'er their road. No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang. Still were the pipe and drum; Save heavy tread and armours clang, Their sullen march was dumb. 120 TONES. 2. All silent they went for the time was approaching^ The moon the blue zenith already was touching;: No foot was abroad on the forest or hill, No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill! 3. The heavens are all blue; and the billow's bright verge Is frothily laved by a whispering surge, That heaves incessant a tranquil dirge, To lull the pale forms that sleep below: — Forms that rock as the waters flow. That bright lake is still as a liquid sky: And when o'er its bosom the swift clouds fly, They pass like thoughts o'er a clear, blue eye. The fringe of thin foam that their sepulchre binds. Is as light as the clouds that are borne by the winds. Soft over its bosom the dim vapours hover In morning's first light: and the snowy-wing'^d plover, That skims o'er the deep Where my loved ones sleep, No note of joy on this solitude flings; Nor shakes the mist from his drooping wing&^ Low pitch of utterance: I. Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried r: We buried him darkly, at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning, By the struggling moonbeams misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. EXERCISES. 121 Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, — But we left him — alone with his glory! 2. An everlasting hill was torn From its primeval base, and borne, In gold and crimson vapours drest, To where a people are at rest. — Slowly it came in its mountain wrath; And the forests vanish'd before its path; And the rude cliffs bowed; and the waters fled; And the living were buried, while over their head They heard the full march of their foe as he sped; — And the valley of life was the tomb of the dead, The mountain sepulchre of all I lov'd! The village sank; and the giant trees Lean'd back from the encountering breeze, As this tremendous pageant mov'd. The mountain forsook his perpetual throne, And came down in his pomp: and his path is shown In barrenness and ruin; — there His ancient mysteries lie bare; His rocks in nakedness arise; His desolations mock the skies. S. The curfew tolls— the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea. The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape from the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds. Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. 10* 122 TONES. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as wandering near her secret bower. Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-trees' shade^ Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap. Each in his narrow cell for ever laid. The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. High pitch r 1. But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fafr — • What was thy delighted measure? Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure. And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail? Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all her song: And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close; And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair. 2. Come hither, hither, my little page ; Why dost thou weep and wail? Or dost thou dread the billow's rage. Or tremble at the gale? But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly. More merrily along. 3. Stay, lady — stay, for mercy *s snke,^ And hear a helpless orphan's tale: EXERCISES. I8S Ah! sure my looks must pity wake — 'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale! Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy: But in the Nile's proud fight he died — And I am now an orphan boy. Poor, foolish child; how pleas'd was I When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly. To see the lighted windows flame! To force me home my mother sought — She could not bear to see my joy! For with my father's life 'twas bought — And made me a poor orphan boy! Oh! were I by your bounty fed! — Nay, gentle lady, do not chide; Trust me, I mean to earn my bread — The sailor's orphan boy has pride! Lady, you weep: — what is't you say? •'You'll give me clothing, food, employ!" Look down, dear parents, look, and see Your happy, happy orphan boy! Slow rate of utterance : 1. Here rests his head, upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown; — Fair science frown 'd not on his humble birth; And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty and his soul sincere; Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had — a tear; He gain'd from heaven — 'twas all he wished, — a friend. 124 TONES. No further seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his fraiUies from their dread abode; — - There they alike in trembling hope repose, The bosom of his Father and his God. 2, O Thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! whence are thy beams, O Sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest above! Who can be a companion of thy course? The oaks of the mountains fall: the mountains themselves decay with years: the ocean shrinks and grows a^ain: the moon herself is lost in the heavens: but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing m the brightness of thy course. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls, and light- ning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm, — But to Ossian thou look- est in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more, whether thy yellow hair floats on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, care- less of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O Sun! in the strength of thy youth — Age is dark and un- lovely: it is like the glimmering light of the moon, when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills; when the blast of the north is on the plain, and the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey. Quick rate of utterance : 1. Come, thou nymph! and bring with thee Mirth and youthful Jollity; EXERCISES. 125 Quips and cranks and wanton wiles; Nods and becks and wreathed smiles; Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek: Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holdinoj both his sides: Come, and trip it as ye go On the light fantastic toe; And in thy right hand bring with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty. 2. But, O how altered was its sprightlier tone, When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air that dale and thicket rung! The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. The oak-crown'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen, Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen, Peeping from forth their alleys green: Brown exercise rejoic'd to hear; And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. 3. And there was mounting in hot haste — the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; While the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar. And near, the beat of the alarming drum, Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips, ''The foe! — they come — they come." 126 TONES. 4, Forth from the pass in tumult driveHy Like chaff before the winds of heaven^ The archerj appear: — For life, for life their flight they ply, While shriek and shout and battle-cryv And plaids and bonnets waving high, And broadswords flashing to the sky. Are maddening in their rear. Middle pitch, moderate force and ratei 1. Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote And inaccessible by shepherds trod, In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, A hermit lived; a melancholy man, Who was the wonder of our wandering swainsv Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, Did they report him; the cold earth his bed. Water his drink, his food the shepherd's alms. I wert to see him ; and my heart was touch'd With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake; And, entering on discourse, such stories told. As made me oft revisit his sad cell. For he had been a soldier in his youth; And fought in famous battles, when the peers Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led Against the usurping infidel, display'd The blessed cross, and won the Holy Land. Pie as 'd with my admiration, and the fire His speech struck from me, the old man would shake His years away, and act his young encounters: Then having showed his wounds, he'd sit him dowa And all the live-long day discourse of war. To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf EXERCISES. 127 He cut the figures of the marshaU'd hosts; Dcscrib'd the motions, and explain 'd the use Of the deep column, and the lengthened line, The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm; For all that Saracen or Christian knew Of war's vast art, was to this h^rnait knows. I. My thoughts, I must confess, are turn'd on peace; Already have our quarrels fill'd the world With widows and with orphans: Scythia mourns Our guilty wars; and earth's remotest regions Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. ^Tis time to sheath the sword and spare mankind. It is not Caesar, but the gods, my fathers, The gods declare against us, and repel Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, (Prompted by blind revenge and wild despair,) Were to refuse the awards of Providence, And not to rest in Heaven's determination. Already have we shown our love^o Rome; Now let us show submission to the gods. We took up arms, not to revenge ourselves. But free the commonwealth. When this end fails, Arms have no further use. Our country's cause That drew our swords, now wrests them from our hands. And bids us not delight in Roman blood Unprofitably shed. What men could do, Is done already. Heaven and earth will witness, If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. 3. History is not only a valuable part of know- ledge, but opens the door to many other parts of knowledge, and affords materials to most of the sci- ences. And, indeed, if we consider the shortness of 128 MODULATION. human life, and our limited knowledge of what passes even in our own time, we must be sensible that we should be for ever children in understanding, were it not for this invention, which extends our experience to all past ages, and to most distant nations, making them contribute as much to our improvement in wis- dom as if they had actually lain under our observa-^ tion. A man acquainted with history, may, in some respect, be said to have lived from the beginning of the world, and to have been making continual ad- ditions to his stock of knowledge. SUCCESSIVE TONES. Variatio7i: |]A11 the preceding examples of single tones, may b^ used as exercises in successive tones, in the following manner. Let the pupil commence with the first ex- ample on Force, and immediately after reading it^ pass to the first example of Softness or Faintness; ob- serving carefully and expressing fully the change of tone thus produced. The first example of Middle Pitch, Moderate Force and Rate, may be read next; the change being observed as before. The second example of each quality may then be read in the same manner; next the third, and so on. For further practice the order of the exercises may be inverted; and the examples may all be repeated, in order to fa- cilitate the power of changing the tone with sudden- ness, and in exact adaptation to any transition of thought or emotion.] '' The Sinking Ship.'' Her giant form O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm, i:xERCisEs. 129 Tuajestically calm, would go Mid the deep darkness white as snow! But gentler now the small waves glide, Like playful lambs o'er a mountain's side. So stately her bearing, so proud her array, The main she will traverse for ever and aye. any ports will exult at the gleam of her mast! Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last. Five hundred souls, in one instant of dread Are hurried o'er the deck. And fast the miserable ship Becomes a lifeless wreck. Her keel hath struck on a hidden rock, Her planks are torn asunder. And down come her masts with a reeling shocks And a hideous crash like thunder. Her sails are draggled in the brine, That gladden'd late the skies; And her pendant, that kiss'd the fair moonshine, Down many a fathom lies. Her beauteous sides, whose rainbow hues Gleam'd softly from below, And flung a warm and sunny flusli O'er the weaths of murmuring snow, To the coral rocks are hurrying down. To sleep amid colours as bright as their own. Oh ! many a dream was in the ship, An hour before her death ; And sights of home with sighs disturbed The sleeper's long-drawn breath. . :^-.. Instead of the murmur of the sea, -^ The sailor heard the humming tree. Alive through ail its leaves, 11 130 MODULATION. 35. The hum of the spreading sycamore That grows before his cottage-door, And the swallow's song in the eaves. His arms enclosed a blooming boy, Who listened with tears of sorrow and joy 40. To the dangers his father had passed ; And his wife, — by turns she wept and smiled, ^ As she looked on the father of her child Returned to her heart at last. — He wakes at the vessel's sudden roll, 45. And the rush of waters is in his soul. Astounded the reeling deck he paces. Mid hurrying forms and ghastly faces; — The whole ship's crew are there. Wailings around and over head, 50. Brave spirits stupified or dead. And madness and despair. Now is the ocean's bosom bare. Unbroken as the floating air; The ship hath melted quite away, 55. Like a struggling dream at break of day. No image meets my wandering eye But the new-risen sun and the sunny sky. Though the night-shades are gone, yet a vapour dull Bedims the waves so beautiful; 60. While a low and melancholy moan Mourns for the glory that hath flown. The principal changes of tone in the reading or re- citing of this piece, are the following. — The com- mencing strain is that of admiration caused by sublim- ity and strength. The tone therefore is deep, and forcible, and somewhat slow. This tone pervades the EXERCISES. 131 first three lines; — its peculiar qualities all increasing in degree till the close of the third. The first change takes place in passing to the style of calm and beautiful description, in the fourth and fifth lines; the tone becoming soft, and passing into the middle pitch and moderate rate. The tone of admiration is resumed in the sixth line, and is strengthened by the addition of that of exulta- tion, approaching to that of vaunting or boasting. The change of voice is to low but loud and rather rapid utterance, increasing gradually in the seventh and eighth lines. In the ninth line there is a sudden transition to the language of solemn rebuke. The voice passes to a very low pitch, slow utterance, and suppressed force. At the middle of the same line there is a perceptible change produced by the manner of solemn and em- phatic assertion; the tone becoming more energetic and 'more slam, and falling still loiver. The commencing strain of the tenth line, is in the manner of solemn and emphatic description. The tone accordingly differs from that of the closing part of the preceding line only in rising in pitch; the force and sloivness of utterance remaining nearly as before. At the phrase, '* in one instant of dread," there is a sud- den change to rapidity, from the nature of the event introduced, and to loiv and forcible utterance from the same cause; the tone indicating the highest degree of vehement excitement arising from the abrupt intro- duction of circumstances of terror and agitation. This tone continues throughout the next line, but is greatly heightened in all its characteristic qualities, by the emotion of terror caused by the rapid consummation of the catastrophe described. 132 MODtrLATiorr. The tone of the twelfth line is that of grief and re-- gre{. The voice, therefore, becomes slow, rises to a higher pitch than before, and is moderate in the force of utterance. The manner of emphatic description is added to this general tone in the next line; the pitch accordingly falls , and the force is much increasfed. The fourteenth line introduces particular and vivid'* description, which is gradually heightened in the next three lines. The tone of agitation returns to some ex- tent; and the voice deepens, and becomes moi^e and more rapid and forcible as it proceeds. In the eighteenth line, the pathetic manner begins to mingle with the description; and the rate of voice becomes slow, rises to a higher strain, and has its force very much subdued. The pathetic qualities of the tone increase in the next line, and still more in the twentieth. The deeper tone and still slower utterance, but greater force, oi regret, prevafl in the twenty -first line. The pathetic tone returns in the twenty-second line, and brings back the voice to a strain rather higher ia its notes, gentler iu its force, and more languid in its movement. The poetic beauty of style in the next three lines, gives occasion for a still more pathetic tone, as the description expands. The twenty-sixth line introduces a circumstance of aive in the description; and the voice sinks to a lower note, and the utterance acquires /orce. The poetic beauty of the description blending with the tone of awe in the next line, produces a slower and gentler strain of expression. The manner of deep grief pervades the twenty- eighth line; and the change of voice is to low and slow, yd forcible expression. The same general style characterises the next three lines. KXERCISES. 133 In the thirty-second line, the language commences a strain of poetic and beautiful description^ associated with circumstances of pathos. Force is repressed in the tone; the voice rises to the middle pitch; and the rate of utterance is still slow. This style continues till the close of the thirty-seventh line. Joy, mingling ivith pathos^ is the succeeding class of emotions. The tone increases in farce, and takes a livelier and quicker utterance. In the thirty-ninth and fortieth lines, however, the tone o^ tenderness predom- inates; — diminishing the vivacity, and consequently reducing the force, but raising the note, and rendering the movement more slow. Through the next three lines, the same tones prevail, but marked still more strikingly by the characteristics of tenderness^ on the one hand, and joy on the other. The forty-fourth line commences with a sudden and abrupt change to the tone of terror, — producing the deepest notes and the most forcible and rapid utterance combined. The tone of horror succeeds in the next line, which is comparatively slow, but deep and ener- getic. The tone of amazement follows, which runs on higher notes, with a quicker rate, dind rather less forcible utterance. The high and hurned tone of agitation and confusion, pervades the forty-seventh line. The tone becomes somewhat slower in the next line, and falls a few notes, as the previous agitation is displaced for a moment by the tone of sublimity and awe, arising from the contemplation of the pending catastrophe, as connected with the number of victims. In the forty-ninth line, the tone changes to that of deep gt*ief in strong expression :— the utterance is on middle notes, but loud and slow. In the next line, the tone of amazement and confusion is introduced. The 11=^ 134 MODULATION* utterance assumes a quicker rate, a more abrupt force^ and a loiver note. The tone of utter horror succeeds, in the next line; and the voice falls to its lowest notes, but acquires the utmost force with a rate much slower. The language of the piece returns, in the fifty- second line, to the style of calm description, but blend- ed with the tone of awe, from the nature of the cir- circumstances that have preceded. The voice rises to the middle pitch nearly; the degree of force i& slight; and the rate of utterance is very slow. The same general tone pervades the three succeeding lines; becoming somewhat slower, lower, and more forcible, as the description advances to circumstances oi awe. The slow and distinct manner of solemnity, prevails in the fifty-sixth and fifty-seventh lines. The mood of gloom and melancholy commences in the fifty-eighth line, and runs through the fifty-ninth j^ but moderated by the tone of beautiful description. The voice sinks to a low and sloio strain, but sustained by a moderate force. In the sixtieth line the preceding tone becomes very deep, and peculiarly slow; the force diminishing as the emotions of gloom and melancholy are deepened by those of awe and grief; the poetic beauty of descrip- tion, however, still softening, to some extent, the whole character of the tone, and preventing any ap- proach to harshness or abruptness.^ To cultivate rightly the powers of expression in young learners, exercises in the above manner of ex- * The limits prescribed to an elementary book, render it impos- sible to extend the analysis to further examples. The specimen ^ however, which has been given, may perhaps be sufficient to sug- gest the kind of exercise intended. CADENCE. 135 planatory analysis, should be practised, with the aid of the teacher, on every piece which is read as a lesson on tones. Nor will this prove a difficult task to pupils of the age supposed to have been attained by those who make use of this volume, if the exercise is never attempted on pieces not adapted to the taste and feelings of youth. Generally, however, it would be advisable that the teacher should allow his pupils the benefit of full illustration, by his performing this exercise frequently, in the way of example, before it is made a regular lesson for classes or individuals. The great object of such practice is to draw the atten- tion of learners to the various states of mind, or moods of feeling, which produce modulation and other changes of tone ; that these mental circumstances may, on any occasion, be readily and distinctly recog- nised; and that their appropriate tones may be insep- arably associated with them. Reading may thus be made a matter of understanding and true feeling, in- stead of being, as it now too generally is, a matter of mere mechanical routine; and elocution may become what it should be, — an intellectual accomplishment, and not an artificial acquirement. CHAPTER V. CADENCE. General Observations. The completion of a thought is expressed, not only by the long pause which takes place at the end of a sentence, but, usually, by a fall- 136 CADENCR- ing of the voice on the closing words, to a lower pitch than that which prevailed in the body of the sentence. This closing descent in the tone, is termed cadence. Its use is to prevent the abruptness and irregularity of sound which would be produced by continuing the prevailing pitch to the close of the sentence, — a tone which would have the effect of exciting expectation o& farther expression, and would therefore be at vari- ance both with harmony and sense. The cadence, when appropriately used, produces to the ear the effect of the full formation or completion of sentiment. It is among the chief sources of har- mony and variety in speech, and forms a true and chaste ornament in reading. The absence of it, in circumstances where it is required, gives an indefinite and wandering tone to the termination of a sentence; while, on the other hand, a uniform and mechanical use of it, gives to reading that unmeaning, formal, and tedious style, which distinguishes its tones from? the natural, animated, and varied expression of the voice in conversation. Definition. Cadenee is the closing tone of a sentence. JVote, The etymology of this word has led to a false notion which is very current in regard to read- ing, — that every sentence has a falling close. Hence the common direction. Let the voice fall at a period. This rule would be a just one for the reading of a single sentence which required the downward slide. It is quite the reverse, however, for a sentence which happens to terminate with the rising inflection; as may be perceived by the following example: DEFINITION. I3t '* Lady you utter madness and not sorroiv.^^ Neither will such a rule apply when one sentence is merely introductory to another, or when a negative sentence IS followed by an affirmative one. For example : *^ Your enemies may be formidable by their numbers and their power. But He who is with you is mightier than they." ''True politeness is not a mere compli- ance with arbitrary custom. It is the expression of a refined benevolence.^' The word cadence, as used by the ancient rhet- oricians, was applied to the close of a ''period," or sentence embracing a complete sentiment, with all its modifications. But in modern style, a sentence is often completed in the compass of a few words; and the full stop is no security that a whole idea is ex- pressed. The frequency of the period, or full stop, is a matter of taste and custom, and dependent on no uniform rule of thought or of language. Thus, at the time when the Spectator appeared, it was customary to write a succession of single sentences connected by a conjunction, as component parts merely of a long compound sentence, and to point them with the semi- colon.^ In our own day, the tendency of custom is * «« The strange and absurd variety that is so apparent in men's actions shows plainly they can never proceed immediately from reason; so pure a fountain emits no such troubled waters; they must necessarily arise from the passions, which are to the mmd as the winds to a ship, they only can move it, and they too often destroy it; if fair and gentle, they guide it into the harbour; if contrary and furious, they overset it in the waves: in the same manner is the mind assisted or endangered by the passions; reason must then take the place of the pilot, and can never fail of se- curing her charge, if she be not wanting to herself; the strength of the passions will never be accepted as an excuse for complying 138 CADENCE. to use, in such cases, the full stop at each single sen- tence. But, in all cases, we must seek for a rule less fluctuating than that of fashion or temporary taste, to guide the voice in the expression of sentiment; and this we can find only in the meaning. The appro- priate tone of thought and feeling, must be left to de- cide whether the voice shall fall or rise. Cadence, then, if we do use the word, should be understood, arbitrarily, to signify the closing tone of a sentence, as expressive of meaning preceding or following. The unmeaning and mechanical style of reading, which is too generally exemplified at school, and in professional performances, is chiefly characterised by a continually returning fail of voice at the end of every sentence, — so uniform that it might be used as a guide by which to count the exact number of sen- tences read. A whole paragraph is read as so many detached and independent sentences, forming distinct and unconnected propositions or maxims. Animated, natural, and appropriate reading, on the contrary, avoids this frequent fall, and keeps up that perpetual variety which the changes of sense require. This effect it produces by modifying the close of every sentence, according to its meaning in connexion with the rest. A reader who uses this style, gives ewery sentence as a dependent part of a connected whole, and thus gives unity and harmony to a train of thought. This effect he attains by disregarding the arbitrary rule for a fall of voice at every period, and seeking, with them; they were designed for subjection, and if a man suffers them to get the upper hand, he then betrays the liberty of his ow^a SQul." — SpectatoTyNo, 408. RULES, 139 his guidance from the sense of what he utters, as he does in his habits of common conversation, — making no difference whatever in the two cases, but what arises, of necessity, from the more regular form of written sentences. Rule I. Every complete and independent sen- tence which does not terminate with a modifying clause has the falling inflection. JYbte. The note to which the cadence falls, and the space through which it descends, are dependent on the emotion with which the sentiment should be uttered, or on the length and complication of the sen- tence. In strong emotion, the cadence is often both abrupt and low: thus '*Let us do, or die." In gentle emotion, the cadence is gradual and moderate : '^How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!" In short sentences in which emotion does not pre- vail, the fall is slight. '* Human life is the journey of a day." In long sentences the fall is more ob- vious, and commences farther from the close. '* As we perceive the shadow to have moved along the dial, but did not perceive its moving; and it appears the grass has grown, though nobody ever saw it grow: so the advances we make in knowledge, as they con- sist of such minute steps, are only perceivable by the distance." Rule II. Sentences which terminate with a 140 CADENCE. modifying phrase, and all sentences which qualify or affect, in any way, a preceding sentence, or are introductory to other sentences, close with a tone adapted to the modification or connexion of '* My sentence is for open war: of wiles (More unexpert) I boast not; them let those Contrive who need, or when they need: not now. For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here. Heaven's fugitives?"^ Errors. The common faults of cadence are 1st. delaying the fall of voice till the last word of the sentence, and dropping at once from perhaps a uniform and level tone preceding ; 2d. falling very low in the closing phrase ; 3d. falling at too early a point in the sentence ; 4th. using a waving tone of voice, which makes a false emphasis near the close ; 5th. a gradual gliding downward from the opening of the sentence ; 6th. a gradual diminishing of the force of the voice, till it be- comes nearly inaudible at the close ; 7th. the dis- agreeable sameness produced by the repetition of any of these tones throughout a piece. The various faulty cadences which have been men- mentioned, including the last, might be expressed thus to the eye. * Farther examples may be found in the appropriate exercises on Inflection. ERRORS. 141 1st. The dropping of the voice upon the last word: **The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, are not to be The most fatihful allies of computed, the commonwealth have been treated as enemies, Roman citizens have, like slaves, been put to death with tortures." This fault might be represented by a sort of dia- gram, thus: 2d. A low fall on the closing phrase : '*The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, are not to be computed. The most faithful allies of the commonwealth have been treated as enemies. Roman citizens have been put to death like slaves." This fault might be represented thus: \ ~\ Ss 3d. Falling at too early a point in the sentence : **The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and un- 10 142 CADEMCE. heard of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, are not to be computed. The most faithful allies of the commonwealth have been treated as enemies/' Roman citizens have been put to death like slaves. ""^ This cadence is not quite so uniform as either of the preceding, and cannot be so strictly copied to tho^ eye — comparatively , however, it would run thus: 4th. False emphasis and undulation at the close of a sentence : •' The sums he has, by arbitrary taxes and unheard of impositions, extorted from the industrious poor, are not to be computed. The most faithful allies of the commonwealth have been treated as enemies. Roman citizens have been put to death like slaves." This fault might be represented thus: 5th. & 6th. Diminishing and gradually descending cadence. The most faithful allies of the commonwealth have been treated as enemies. * This cadence is always accompanied by the inflecti©o o^ «^ ennphatic phrase." ERRORS, 143 Roman citizens have been put to death like slaves. This fault may be repi^esent^d thus: The first of these faults arises from a habit of read- ing with a mechanical attention to the words, instead of an intel]io;ent observation of meaninoi:. It is the appropriate tone of children, while the difficulty of reading still remains, to some extent, or when they are reading what they do not understand. The habit of attending solely or chiefly to the words of a sen- tence, soon becomes fixed as a permanent one, and entails unmeaning and arbitrary tones on the reading even of adults. It is hardly necessary to say that this tone is at variance w4th all meaning, and that it can be removed only by a close attention to the sense of what is read. The second fault in cadence is contracted usually hy reading grave and formal pieces; the solemnity of style in which is unnatural to the tones of youth. The usual standard inadvertently adopted by boys in the reading of such pieces, is that which they too often hear from the pulpit. The effect of this tone is to substitute a heavy and hollow-sounding close, bear- ing a measured proportion to the preceding parts of a sentence, for the true and varied tone of meaning. This cadence is especially inappropriate in the young, and should be carefully avoided by directing the at- 144 CADENCE. tention to the nature of the sentiment which is ex- pressed, and adapting the voice to the meaning, and not to a certain routine of mechanical utterance. The third fault, that of beginning to fall too soon, also arises from the mind being in the habit of attend- ing to the language rather than to the thought, and from the wrong impression that there must necessa- rily be a fall at the close of every sentence, and, per- haps, too, from a mistake in taste, by which the young reader is led to imagine that there is something - pleasing to the ear in a regular and formal descent of the voice. This tone is unavoidably associated with a pedantic manner, and should be carefully guarded against, by endeavouring to keep the voice in the same strain of expression which would be observed in con- versation, when not marked by incorrect or inappro* priate tones. The meaning of a sentence, and noth- ing else, can suggest the true tone. The fourth error in cadence is the tone often heard at the close of sentences, in the speaking of declama- tory pieces at school and college exhibitions. It falls upon the ear with a sound resembling the close of an hexameter verse. Like the faults already mentioned, it is characterised by a mechanical and measured flow of voice, depending on the succession of the words, and not on the meaning of the sentence. The speaker is inadvertently carried away by the rhetori- cal force and rhythm of the language, and thus loses a clear and distinct conception of the sentiment. The tone of energy, instead of falling only on emphatic words, is distributed vaguely over the whole surface of a sentence, and floats oflTin an undulating and half- musical close. This fault would be avoided by direct- ing the attention to the thoughts rather than to the ERRORS. 145 language of a piece, and by observing the true em- phasis of meaning, instead of an arbitrary emphasis of sound. The fifth and sixth faults usually occur in the same general tone; the voice commencing every sentence on a comparatively high note, and with a moderate degree of force, but the pitch gradually falling, and the loudness gradually diminishing, in the progress of the sentence, till the tone has nearly died away at the close. These faults originate in the habits contracted in childhood, from the unnatural attempt to read too loud, or in too large a room, and thus to make an effort which the powers of the voice, are, iit that early age, incapable of sustaining. The young read- er soon gets accustomed to this subsiding tone, as a matter of course in all reading, until it becomes as it were the fixed gait of his voice, which he involun- tarily transfers to later stages of his progress in edu- cation, and even to professional efforts in mature years. This objectionable tone would, like all others, be removed by the habit of attending to the meaning of what is read or spoken, more than to the phraseology. Written sentences differ from those of conversation chiefly in their inversion; the most forcible and ex- pressive phrases being generally placed last in order. This arrangement favours strength of style in compo- sition; but it needs a sustained and regularly increas- ing force of voice, to give it just utterance. In good reading, accordingly, the tone strengthens progres- sively in a sentence, — especially if long or complex; whilst in feeble and unimpressive reading, the voice is gradually dwindling where the language requires increasing energy. 12* 146 CADENCE, The sinking cadence owes its peculiar tone, in part, to the habit of resuming a high pitch at the commencing word of every sentence. This tone pre- vents the expression of connected meaning; as it makes every sentence a separate object to the ear, and produces something like a sense of weariness in the hearer, by the continual recurrence of its dying ^ note. This fault arises in part, also, from the mechan- ical habit of attending to sentences as such, and not to their value, or their connexion in signification. When two sentences are connected in meaning, the latter, if appropriately read, commences on the low note used in the closing of the former. The unity of sound thus produced, gives the sentences a unity to the ear. The rising of the voice to a new pitch, at the opening of a new sentence, indicates, by the change of note, a change of meaning, or a transition to a new and different thought. Take, for example, the following sentences; and let them be read first in such a manner that the clause, ''It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas," shall run upon the same note precisely with which the word *' senses" in the preceding sentence was uttered; — using that word for a key note, as you would the sound of a pitch-pipe. In this reading, the tone of <5onnexion between the sentences is produced. Again, let the sentences be read with a new or high pitch upon the opening of the second; and the voice obviously wanders off*, as if to express a distinct and unconnected idea. **Our sight is the most perfect and most delightful of all our senses. It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, converses with its objects at the SUGGESTIONS, 147 greatest distance, and continues the longest in action without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoy- ments." The uniform recurrence, then, of a high pitch at the beginning of every sentence, must have the effect of destroying the natural connexion of thought, and thus of obscuring or changing the sense. It is still a cl^ar conception of meaning, however, on which the learner is to depend as the only guide to appropriate cadence. For the fault of a dwindling cadence would not occur, but for the mechanical change of pitch, which is at variance with meaning. The fault which is mentioned last in the enumera- tion of errors, is the necessary result of the frequent repetition or constant recurrence of any one of the preceding faults. It implies, then, all the disadvan- tages of each singly, aggravated by perpetual reitera- tion, and thus leading to a sameness of sound, which is not less disagreeable to the ear than the particular ^one considered singly. This, and all the other faulty habits of cadence, are greatly aggravated in verse. See Chapter VI. Reading of Poetry. SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. The personal tone of each pupil must regulate the adoption of expedients for the removal of habitual faults in regard to cadence. The chief thing to be impressed on the mind, is the deviation of the voice from the tone of the meaning; since all pupils do not possess a ready ear for the discrimination of sounds considered in relation to music, or even to general good taste. Imitation may sometimes be re- 148 CADENCE* sorted to, on the part of the teacher, with good effect; and, under due superintendence, mutual correction by the pupils themselves, may be very serviceable in correcting bad cadence. The correction of the fault mentioned first, re- quires a complete renovation of mental habit, and a wakeful active attention to what is read. Animated^ and interesting pieces, in familiar style, will afford the best subjects for practice, with a view to the re- moval of this fault. The same suggestion may be made in reference to the errors numbered second, third, and fourth. Lively and humorous pieces will be most useful, when the object of practice is to do away the diminishing and half-pathetic cadence. The expedient of practising in company with the teacher, cannot be so freely recommended here as in other departments of elocution; since adults, and especially teachers,^ are generally prone to a degree of formality in cadence, which, when transferred to the style of the young, has a very unfavourable effect. The utmost care, too, is necessary in selecting pieces for practice; that when didactic and declamatory ex- ercises are prescribed, they may not prove, as they too generally do, a source of irretrievable injury to tone and cadence, from the nature of the sentiments^ and the forms of expression, prevailing in the passage which is read or spoken. Unintelligible ideas and formal language are the chief sources of false and un- meaning cadence, as well as of most other defects in reading and declamation. READING OF POETRY. 149 CHAPTER VI READING OF POETRY< General Observations. The reading of poetry difTers from that of prose, chiefly in the following circurn- stances. Poetry, being the expression of imaginative states of mind, produces a much greater force, vari- ety, and vividness of thought and feeling, than usually occur in prose, which is the language of sentiment ia its ordinary form. The qualities of voice required by the former, correspond to its peculiar traits of emo- tion, which are distinguished by great intensity; run- ning sometimes to the extremes of tone, and often varying from one strain to another. Prose generally preserves a more moderate expression, and a more equable movement of voice, as coinciding with the plainer qualities of thought and language. The rhythmical flow of voice, produced by versification, combining, with the sense of poetic beauty of concep- tion, naturally creates a musical or melodious strain of utterance, in the reading of poetry, which must be avoided in prose, as inconsistent withr the practical style of sentiment and expression, and the irregular succession of sounds, which appropriately belong to this form of writing. The chief requisites, then, for the appropriate read- ing of poetry, are a clear and distinct conception of the thoughts expressed in the passage which is read, a full and natural sympathy with the emotions which combine with these thoughts, and a discriminating ear for the melody and harmony of verse. The 150 READING OF POETllY. states of mind which produce vividness and variety of tone, have been already adverted to; and some of the most striking instances of their occurrence have been pointed out, in the examples and explanations of the lesson on tones. It is to the effect of the rhythm of verse, therefore, that the present lesson is intended to direct the learner's attention. ^ Definitions. The chief aftections or modifica- tions of voice, arising from the utterance of verse, may be arranged in the manner observed in the lesson on tones, and classed under the heads of force, pitchy and rate. To these qualities we must add that of melre, or the particular character of the rhythm, and to which rate is, in fact, but subordi- nate : and which, though it exists in the reading or speaking of prose, is not so distinctly perceptible in this form of utterance as in that of verse. This quality of vocal expression is that which keeps in jost proportion the length of every sound, the rate of the succession of sounds, and the duration of pauses, W'hether arising from meaning or merely from versification. The effect of time on a passage which expresses an emotion requiring a sloiv utterance, w^ould be, (as in tlie following example of solemnity and reverence,) to prolong every single sound, to render the succession of sounds slow, to make the pauses long which arise from the senlimefit, and those which belong to the verse, perceptible and distinct; *^ These are thy glorious works, Parent of good. Almighty! thine this universal frame^ DEFINITIONS, 151 Thus wondrous fair! thyself how wondrous then; Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works;" — *ji gay and lively strain of poetry, if correctly timed, would be distinguished, (as for example the following lines from Milton's L' Allegro,) by brevity in single sotmds, quick succession of sounds, and short pauses, hoih as regards the meaning and the verse. '* [Admit me, Mirth,] to live with thee. In unreproved pleasures free: To hear the lark begin iiis flight, And singiuiij startle the dull ni^ht. From his watch-tower in the skies. Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrovv', And, at my windovv, bid good morrov/, Through the sweet briar or the vine^ Or the twisted eglantine:" — The proportion of sound, of its succession, and of its intervals, (or, in other words, the effect of time,) is, in both these instances, — and not less in all other cases, — a main circumstance in the true poetic char- acter of the utterance, and a point without which the language must deviate into the manner of prose. Time, indeed, is as essential to poetry as to music. The modifications of tone arising from the influ- ence of poetry, are chiefly the following: 1st, Rate. Poetry being, as far as the ear is concerned, a rhythmical succession of sounds, it becomes necessary, in point of fact, as well as 152 REA^DING OF POETRY. agreeable to the ear, that every sound should be dwelt upon long enough to give a full impression of its true quantity or length. The reading of poetry, therefore, is distinguished from that of prose, by a comparative prolongation or indul- gence of every sound. -4 The tones of prose reading, not being affected by any accommodation to melody or harmony of sound, but solely by the plain and direct conveyance of meaning, the voice inclines to brevity. Poetry im- plies, in all its expression, a reference to pleasure; and the ear is to be gratified by sound, while the mind is receiving ideas. A sHghtly prolonged articu- lation, therefore, becomes necessary in the reading of verse, to afford due scope to the beauty of sound: it constitutes the natural expression, also, of the grati- fication derived, through the ear, from the pleasing form in which objects are offered to the attention; since the sense tends to dwell on what gives delight to the mind. Rapidity and brevity in utterance, ac- cordingly, destroy the effect of poetry to the ear. The length of single soui>ds occasions of ne- cessity, a slow succession of them. The general style of utterance in poetic reading, therefore, is slower than that of prose. The preceding explanations may be applied to the following stanza.* * The prolongation of sound mentioned above is a quality which has been described as comparative merely. It must be confined to a very moderate degree. DEFINITIONS. 153 ^* All hail! thou lovely queen of night, "Bright empress of the starry sky! The meekness of thy silvery light Beams gladness on the gazer's eye, While from thy peerless throne on high Thou shinest bright as cloudless noon. And bidd'st the clouds of darkness fly Before thy glory — Harvest moon/' 2d. Force. The general effect of verse on the force of the voice, is to diminish it slightly, af compared with the same quality of utterance in prose. This result is produced chiefly by soften- ing the abruptness of force, — partly through the prolongation of sound already mentioned, and partly through a slight yet perceptible swelling of every sound, especially long vowels, — somewhat in the manner of singing, though only a distant ap- proach to it. The rhythm of verse identifies it so far with music: the ** swell" is inseparable from musical utterance, and the reading of poetry consequently partakes of it. The slight swell of voice m verse differs, however, from that of music, in not being so regular in its formation. The swell of music is a gradual increase of force, from the beginning to the middle of a note,— from which point it diminishes as regularly and grad- ually as it increased in approaching it. An exact copy of this style of utterance, even in a rapid de- livery, — in which it would be comparatively obscured "by the quick succession of sounds, — cannot be trans- ferred, even to prose, withoiit creating the fault of a 13 154 READING OF POETRY. mouthing tone. The swell of verse differs from that of music, not only in being very slight, or barely per- ceptible, but in attaining its utmost force at a point comparatively near to its commencement, and thence decreasing, in a manner which leaves the diminish- ing of the force much more apparent to the ear, than the increasing of it when approaching to its utmost* degree. This slight swell of voice is a natural and indispen- sable characteristic of poetic tone, without which the utterance becomes hard and prosaic. A slow and careful reading of the first line, and especially of the first two words, of the stanzas already quoted, will exemplify this modification of voice. 3d. Pitch. The eflfect of poetry on the pitch of the voice, is usually, in consequence of the more vivid emotion by w^hich it is characterised, to carry the voice to a higher or lower note than in prose, according to the nature of the emotion expressed, as grave and deep-toned, or inclining to a high strain of utterance. Time. The general office of time, in regulating the movement of the voice, has been already men- tioned. Its peculiar eflfect on the reading of verse depends much on two pauses, one essential to all forms of metre, and the other chiefly to those which run to comparative length in single lines, as heroic and blank verse, and, sometimes, anapaestic PROSODIAL PAUSE. 155 measure. These pauses are termed final and ccesuraL The former takes place at the end of every hne where it would not destroy the natural connexion of sense ; and the latter, at or near the middle of a line. The final pauses in the following stanza, coincide, at the close of the first two lines, with the sense and the punctuation. But at the close of the third, the final pause must be omitted as inappropriate and un- meaning. '' On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly." JVbfe. The final pause very often coincides with the rhetorical pause, which was mentioned and exem- plified in the lesson on pauses. If this coincidence does not exist, and no grammatical stop occurs, no pause should he observed in the reading. The ccesural pause, in heroic and blank verse, oc- curs commonly at the end of the fourth syllable, but changes its place occasionally, to produce a more agreeable and varied harmony. ^*Not half so swift^ | the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce eagle | cleaves the liquid sky; Not half so swiftly [ the fierce eagle moves, When through the clouds | he drives the trembling doves." * This mark denotes the caasural pause. 156 READING OF POETRY. *'^Now came still evening on, j and twilight gr^y Had* I in her sober livery j all things clad; Silence accompanied; | for beast and bird, Theyl | to their grassy couch, [ these| | to their nests Were slunk, | all but the wakeful nightingale: She all night long | her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleased: | now glowed the firmament With living sapphires; | Hesperus that led ^The starry host, | rode brightest, | till the moon,^ Rising in clouded majesty, j at length Apparent queen | unveil'd her peerless light, And o'er the dark | her silver mantle threw." The csesural pause in anapcBstic verse falls appro- priately near the middle of the line. But harmony and variety require not unfrequently a deviation from this rule. *' 'Tis night, I and the landscape is lovely no morer I mourn; | but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, | your charms to restore^ Perfum'd with fresh fragrance | and glittering with dew.'' ''My banks | they are furnish 'd with bees. Whose murmur | invites me to sleep; My grottoes | are shaded with trees. And my hills [ are white over with sheep. '^ * Some verses are divided by a double csesural pause of shorter duration than that of the common caesura. t This pause is sometimes termed demi-ccRsuraly as it has but half the length of that which occurs at the caBsura, RHYTHM. 157 JVbte 1. The ccBSural pause is to be observed only when it coincides with the rhetorical pause; and the latter may sometimes produce a double pause or demi- ccesura; thus, *' The look | that spoke gladness and welcome | was gone, The blaze | that shone bright in the hall ] was no more; A stranger was there, | with a bosom of stone: And cold was his look, | as I enter'd the door." 2d. This pause is comparatively slight, and is sometimes entirely omitted in the shorter forms of verse. ^'Remote from cities | liv'd a swain Unvex'd with all the cares of gain; His head | was silver 'd o'er with age, And long experience | made him sage." '^Or, if it be thy will and pleasure, Direct my plough | to find a treasure!" Rhythm. Rhythm is the measured flow of voice arising from the arrangement of successive sounds, in numbers or groups corresponding to or contrasted with each other in length or shortness, force or weakness, and denominated metrical feet. These correspondences and contrasts in sound pro- duce to the ear a degree of that effect which belongs, in its full expression, to a strain of music. The value of rhythm may be made to appear in a very striking 13* 158 READING OF POETRY. light, by reading a passage of poetry, without regard to its rhythm, and in the manner of prose. We may take for example the opening of Paradise Lost, and arrange it to the eye as prose, in the following man- ner. ''Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste brought death into the world, and all our wo, with loss of Eden,^ till one greater man restore us, and regain the bliss- ful seat, sing, heavenly muse." This passage, if read with a due attention to rhythm, will produce a very different effect to the ear, and become at once invested with a sonorous harmony of utterance. ''Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our wo, With loss of Eden, till one greater man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, Sing, heavenly muse!" The groups or portions of sound into which rhythm divides itself, are, in the language of prosody, called feet: of these, the following are the principal that oc- cur in English verse; the iambus, consisting of two syllables; the first either short or unaccented or both, and the second either long or accented or both, as *' adore," "/org-of:"* — the trochee, which is exactly the iambus inverted, as '^ fatal, ^^ " error :^^ — the pyrrhic, which consists of two short syllables, as the first two words in the phrase "m a recess:" — the spondee, which consists of two long syllables, as ^' loiv- * These marks are used to distinguish long and short syllables, and they are transferred arbitrarily to those which are unaccented ®r accented^ METRE. 159 broiv^d:^^ — the anapcest, consisting of three syllables; the first two short, and the third long, as ^^ com- plaisant.^^ The prevalence of any one of these feet, gives rise to the classification of verse as iambic, trochaic, or anapcestic; each requiring an appropriate but chaste rhythm in the utterance. The pyrrhic and spondee occur only as occasional feet, thrown in for variety in particular verses; thus, '* She all night long her amorous descant sung;" — - '' 'Twas from philosophy man learn'd to tame The soil."— JVofe. The trochee and the anapsest, though they usually form distinct species of verse, are occasion- ally introduced, like the pyrrhic and the spondee, for variety of rhythm; thus, '' Lo! from the echoing axe and thundering flame Poison and plague, and yelling rage are fled." Iambic verse has the following among other subdi- visions: heroic — or the rhyming couplet, (two lines,) of five iambic feet, or ten syllables in each line. This kind of verse occurs in heroic poems, — (the nar- rative of heroic actions or enterprises;) but it is also used in lofty or grave subjects, generally. A stanza is sometimes formed of four heroic couplets, or eight lines rhyming in successive or alternate pairs, and an Alexandrine verse,— a line of six iambic feet, or twelve syllables. See examples of this stanza in the *^ Suggestions" for practice on this lesson, — under the heads of '^ moderate " and '' lively " utterance. Blank verse differs from heroic metre in consisting of single lines, and being entirely destitute of rhyme — 160 READING OF POETRY* hence its epithet of ^'blank,^^ This species of verse is restricted to the highest order of subjects. Ex- amples of heroic and blank verse, were given in the application of the csesural pause. Verses, or lines, are arranged in stanzas, or succes- sive portions, according to rAj/me, — the correspond- ence of the sound of syllables to each other; and hence the further subdivision of iambic verse as classed in couplets or distichs. Thus, are formed heroic verse, and the couplet of four iambuses, or eight syllables in each line, (called therefore octo-^ syllabic,) of which the following is an example: '^The way was long, the wind was cold, The minstrel was infirm and old; His wither'd cheek and tresses gray Seem'd to have known a better day. The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy." A very common form of iambic verse, is the qua-^ train or stanza of four lines, in which the rhyme occurs on alternate lines, according to their correspondence in the number of their syllables; the first and third lines containing eight syllables, or four iambic ke^i*, and the second and fourth, six syllables, or three feet; as in the following example: **The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck. Shone round him, o'er the dead; ** Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm, A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.'' METRE. 161 A less common form of the iambic stanza is that in which no verse contains more than three iambic feet or their equivalents. This species of stanza belongs to pieces of great force and animation. '^ It was the wild midnight: A storm was on the sky; The lightning gave its light, And the thunder echoed by. — *'The torrent swept the glen, The ocean lash'd the shore; Then rose the Spartan men To make their bed in gore." Trochaic verse occurs more rarely in separate compositions, being usually interspersed with iambic measure, for variety of rhythm. It is exemplified in Milton's L' Allegro. '^ Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, While the landscape round it measures; Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray. Meadows trim with daisies pied. Shallow brooks and rivers wide.""^ Anap(Rstic measure is found chiefly in the following forms: — the longer, containing /owr feet; and the shorter, containing three. Of the former, the following stanzas are ex- amples: * Some writers prefer to class this and similar measures tinder the general head of iambic verse, deficient in one syllable at the beginning of each line. The trochaic scanning, however, is better adapted to reading or recitation. 162 READING OF POETRY. *^* The evening was glorious; and light through the trees, Play the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the breeze; *The landscape outstretching in loveliness lay On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. *' For the Queen of the Spring, as she pass'd down the vale. Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale; And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers. '' The shorter anapaestic stanza is exemplified in the following extract. =^'' Ye winds that have made me your sport, ^Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more! My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? Oh! tell me I yet have a friend. Though a friend I am never to see. ''How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compar'd with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind. And the swift-wing'd arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.*' * The first foot of such verses is sometimes an iambus. METRE. 163 The influence of the various kinds of verse on the voice, may be considered as affecting generally the rate, or movement, and the time, of utteiance. Thus, blank verse is remarkably sloiv and stately in the char- acter of its tone; and the timing of the pauses re- quires attention chiefly to length. Heroic verse is commonly in the same prevailing strain, but not to such an extent as the preceding. The octosyllabic metre is generally more quick and lively in its move- ment, and the pauses are comparatively brief. But under the influence of sloiv time it gives intensity to grief, and tenderness to the pathetic tone. The qua- train or four-line stanza in the common form, (called sometimes common metre,) has a comparatively mu- sical arrangement of the lines and a peculiar charac- ter in its cadence, — which admits of its expressing the extremes of emotion whether grave or gay. It pre- vails, accordingly, in hymns and in ballads alike, — whether the latter are pathetic or humorous. It de- rives the former character from the observance of quick time, and the latter from slow time. Trochaic verse has a peculiar energy from the abruptness of its character; — the foot commencing either with a long or an accented syllable. In gay pieces, and with quick time in utterance, it produces a dancing strain of voice, peculiarly adapted to the ex- pression of joy; while in grave and vehement strains, with slow time it produces the utmost ybrce and severity of tone. These two extremes are strikingly exem- plified in Milton's L' Allegro and II Penseroso. Anapcestic metre has a peculiar /i(7/ness and sweetness of melody. Slow iim^ accordingly renders it deeply pathetic, and quick time renders it the most graceful expression of joy. This, as well as iambic and 164 tlEADINiS O^ POETRY. trochaic verse, becomes well fitted to express the mood of calmness and tranquillity when the time is rendered moderate,^ Errors. The chief faults which usually occur in the reading of poetry, are the following : 1st. Too rapid utte7^ance, by which the effjct^ of verse is lost to the ear ; the space of time allow- ed for the foraiation of each sound not being suffi- cient to admit of its completion, and the succession of all so rapid that they tend to obliterate each other, or at least fail of acquiring a just proportion. The general hurry of voice abridges the pauses, and sacrifices every characteristic beauty of the metre. 2d, A plain and dry articulation, which, though sufficiently distinct for meaning, withholds the appropriate tone of poetry, and turns every line into prose, by neglecting to accommodate the voice to emotion and to rhythm. 3d. There is also the opposite fault of a mouth- ing and chaunting tone, producing the effi^ct of bombast, and of mock solemnity. This error con- sists in carrying prolongation and swell to excess, and causes the style of reading or reciting to fall consequently into the manner of extravagance and caricature, rather than that of strong emotion. 4th. A want of true time, appearing in the disproportion of syllables to each other and to their * Most of these explanations may be applied by repeating the examples quoted in the preceding part of this lesson. ERRORS. 165 place as component parts of metrical feet, — in the irregular and varying succession of the different parts of a line as compared with each other, — in the want of correspondence and symmetry in the pauses, whether as compared with each other or with the average rate of utterance. Some readers err in all these particulars, and others in several, but most in at least one. The effect of any of these faults is to destroy, as far as it extends, the harmonious flow of verse, and to impab the per- ception of that harmony in thought, of which poetry is the expression. 5th. A very prevalent source of faults in the reading of poetry, consists in the mechanical ob- servance of the final and ccBsural pauses^ without regard to meaning. The error in regard to the final pause, would be exemplified thus, in the following instances: '' Of man's first disobedience; and the fruit Of that forbidden tree," &,c. Which is read thus, *'Of man's first disobedience and the fruit — of that forbidden tree," &c. '* Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad." Read thus, *' Now came still evening on and twi- light gray — had in her sober livery," &c. ' ' And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly." Read, '^ And dark as winter was the flow — of Iser rolling rapidly." 14 166 READING OF POETRY. The error o? ccesural pause would occur thus: ^'The look that spoke gladness and welcome was gone," Read thus, '^The look that spoke gladness — and welcome was gone." **The blaze that shone bright in the hall was no more." *^ Read thus, '* The blaze that shone bright — in the hall was no more." ^'The boy stood on the burning deck." Read, ^' The boy stood on — the burning deck." The ridiculous effects of this error it is unnecessary to describe at length. 6th. Reading literally and uniformly accord- ing to the rhythm or the particular metre of a pas- sage or of a stanza, without regard to emphasis. This error may be considered as arising either from the want of a clear conception of the sense of what is read, or from the overlooking of particular instances in which the poetic license of substituting one foot for another is indulged, as happens in the following linCj. in which the spondee is twice substituted for the iambus. The faulty reading is thus: *'N6w came still evening on," &c., for '^ Now came still evening on," &c. *'The boy stood on the burning deck," for '^ The boy stood on the burning deck;" The trochee being substituted for the iambus, as the second foot. ERRORS. 161 ** And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly/' for ^* And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser rolling rapidly;" The pyrrhic being substituted for the iambus, as the third foot. This fault is sometimes carried so far as to change the accent of words; thus, ''Yet beautifiir and bright he stood/' for ''Yet beautiful and bright he stood." With the pyrrhic instead of the iambus, as the second foot. Sometimes an improper elision of a syllable or letter takes place in the same w^ay: ^^ No more thus brooding o'er yon heap With av'rice painful vigils keep/^ for ''With avarice painful vigils keep.^' The principle on ^vhich the anapsest is to be pre- served in the second foot, is this. The verse admits, for variety, the occurrence of a spondee in the same situation; and as the latter contains two long syl- lables, or four short quantities, the former is nothing more than its strict equivalent in numbers; since it contains exactly the same amount of prosodial quantity. To the same class of errors belong the following pro- nunciations, "dang'rous" for dangerous, " sev'ral " for several, '^ev'ry" for every, " i' th' open sky" for in the open sky. No attention should be paid to such apostrophes: they belong to a style which is be- come obsolete. JVote. Poetry occasionally employs a more ancient style of language, than would be appropriate in prose. 168 READING OF POETRY. This distinction extends not only to the use of words obsolete in prose, but also to forms of accent which are no longer authorized by good usage. Hence we find in verse such accents as the following, contribute, con'template, obdu'rate, &c. requiring a change from present custom in pronunciation. The rule of taste isj in these and similar instances, to follow the verse f as we should do in pronouncing ''wind" to rhyme with ''find," and " wound " to rhyme with "ground," but not in other circumstances. In neither case, however, ought this principle of accommodation to be carried to extremes, as it would be if obeyed in the following or similar cases r "Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy." — "Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate,^' — "Last of my race — on battle plain That shout shall ne'er be heard againV^ " His neighbours tell, and tell you truly. In June, December, and in July 'Tis all the same to Harry Gill." 7th. A fault w^hich is peculiar to the reading of the stanza in common metre, and w^hich is famil- iarly called ^^ sing song/' arises from the use of a wrong inflection at the end of the second line. The sense is usually left incomplete, or there is a continuance or connexion of thought, which requires the rising slide, at the close of this line; and when these reasons for this inflection do not exist, the prin- ciple of the prevalence of the rising inflection in poetry, — mentioned in the rules on inflections, — would Btill require it, in most instances. The structure o^ ERRORS, 1^9 the common metre stanza makes this inflection pecu- liarly important to harmony. The closing syllable of the second line contains the sound which is to be re- peated for rhyme at the end of the fourth line; and if the former terminates with the same inflection as the latter, (which it must do if the falling slide is used in the former,) there is a kind of mocking echo produced, by the repetition of the inflection; and this mechani- cal correspondence is rendered peculiarly striking and disagreeable, by the additional influence of the rhyme, which takes away all possibility of the fault being obscured by any shade of variety in the sound of syllables. The bad effect of this echoing inflection, is farther heightened, in most instances, by the reader over- looking the fact, that, in the progress of the stanza, more force and depth of sentiment usually become perceptible in the third line; requiring, therefore, a lower pitch at its commencement, than the prevailing strain of the first and second lines. The neglect of an appropriate lowering of the note at this point, leaves the voice to drift out of the stanza on the same note nearly with that of the opening strain. Here is an additional cause of the unhappy effect of the echoing notes, at the close of the stanza, as compared with the end of the second line. To th^ unnecessary sameness of inflection, and the unavoidable sameness of rhyme, is added a perfect sameness of note in both cases; — all which would be avoided by attending to the proper inflection at the close of the second line, and the true pitch at the beginning of the third. The mocking or echoing cadence would thus be avoided. The effect of the above fault will be perceived by reading the following stanzas with the falling inflec- 14* 170 READING OF POETRY. tions instead of the rising, at the end of the second line, and keeping the same pitch on the last two lines as on the first two. ** But not when the death-prayer is said, The life of life departs; The body in the grave is laid, Its beauty in our hearts. And holy midnight voices sweet Like fragrance fill the room ; And happy ghosts with noiseless feet Come brightening from the tomb." Rule. Poetry should be read more slowly than prosBy — with a moderate prolongation of vowel and liquid sounds, — with a slight degree of musi- cal utterance^ — in exact time, as prescribed by the emotion expressed in given passages, and by the nature of the verse. The utterance should indi- cate the metre, but should never render it promi- nent ; and in rhyming lines the rising inflection should generally terminate the first ; the falling being carefully avoided unless when indispensable to force of emotion, or to the completion of sense not connected with subsequent expression. SUGGESTIONS FOR PRACTICE. The fault oi rapidity may be most easily corrected by the pupil reading along with the teacher; the ex- orcise being simultaneously performed. This prac- tice may be continued till the proper rate of utterance is attained in simultaneous reading. The learner SUGGESTIONS. 171 may, in his next stage of progress, read after the teacher, till he acquire such a command of his voice that he can read in the slowest style of utterance that any piece may require. This gradation of exercise may be transferred to the practice of whole classes; and stanzas suited to this purpose may be selected and arranged in such a succession as to produce, in one order, a gradual quickening of voice, and in another, a gradual retarding of it. The different rates of utterance which are most frequently required are the following: Sloivest : ' ' Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Silence how dead! and darkness how profound! Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds: Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, An awful pause, prophetic of her end." Slow: **This is the place, the centre of the grove: Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood. How sweet and solemn is this midnight scene! The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way Through skies where I could count each little star; The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves; The river rushing o'er its pebbled bed. Imposes silence with a stilly sound. — In such a place as this, at such an hour, (If ancestry can be in aught believ'd,) Descending spirits have conversed with man, And told the secrets of the world unknown." Moderate: '^ But who the melodies of morn can tell? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side; 172 READING OF POETKY. The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide; The hum of bees, and linnet's lay of love, And the full choir that wakes the universal grove." Lively: '"'With merriment and song, and timbrel's clear, A troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance: The little warriors doff the targe and spear, x4nd loud enlivening strains provoke the dance. They meet, they dart away, they wheel askance To right, to left, they thread the flying maze; Now bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance Rapid along: with many-colour 'd rays Of tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze." Quick: ''Now, even now, my joys run high, As on the mountain turf I lie; While the wanton zephyr sings. And in the vale perfumes his wings; While the waters murmur deep; While the shepherd charms his sheep; While the birds unbounded fly. And with music fill the sky. Now, even now, my joys run high." These exercises may be read backward, as a dis- cipline of the voice in retarding utterance. The ex- amples may then be read singly and taken at random, with a view to aid the learner in carrying a distinct conception of rate in his mind, so as to apply it when occasion requires. SUGGESTIONS. 173 f The fault of prosaic utterance arises either from the want of a lively conception of the beauty of the ob- jects which poetry presents to the mind, or from a want of *' ear " for the effect of poetic numbers. The former source of error may be done away by conver- sation between the teacher and the pupil on the pieces which are read. Such conversation may be led by questions from the teacher, on the nature and char- acter of the objects which are described, or of the events which are related, in the passage which is read as an exercise. Skilful management in this way may prepare the mind of the reader for a full and natural expression of thought by the voice. ^ The want of ear for poetic tone requires attention to considerations more mechanical, and will occasion a necessity for frequent, particular, and minute illus- tration and explanation, on the part of the teacher. The difference between the appropriate tones of poety and those of prose, must be exemplified; and if the teacher possesses any knowledge of music, it will be found very serviceable, as a source of illustration in this department. I The faults of a sivelling and chanting utterance may be corrected by requiring of the pupil a previous reading of every exercise, in the tone of prose; and, * A preliminary analysis of this sort may be performed in an-^ swer to such questions as the following: '« What are the chief ob- jects, incidents, or sentiments, introduced in this piece, para* graph, or stanza?" <« What effect have these on the mind, or what feelings do they produce?" «« What are the tones of voice that express these feelings?" t Much assistance will be derived here from Dr. Rush's ThU losophy of the Voice, or from a clear and practical compend bj Pr, Barber, entitled a Grammar of Elocution .. 174 READING OF POtTRY. to facilitate this discipline, a certain number of lines may be written off in the prose form, so as to aid the ear through the eye. When the tone of poetry is added, it should, especially at first, go but little be- yond that of prose, and thence be gradually, but carefully increased, till it attain the full expression of poetic utterance. Errors in time may be best corrected by a very slow and almost chanting tone, accompanied by a beat marking the time as in music. This exercise must at first be performed in conjunction between the pupil and the teacher; it may afterwards be repeated after the teacher; and, when sufficient progress has been made, it may be performed by the pupil alone. The faults of mechanical manner in the final and ccesural pause, are to be corrected by regarding only the true rhetorical pause, or by observing that of the punctuation, and by adverting to the nature of the pause required by the versification, so as to discrimi- nate the demi-csesura from the complete caesura, and the short, double, csesural from the long, single, csesural pause. The errors arising from too close an observance of metre, may be corrected by resorting, at first, to the manner of prose reading; writing off for this purpose, if necessary, a number of lines or stanzas as prose, on which to practise. Something of the prose tone may be retained as long as there is any risk of the tone of verse becoming too perceptible to the ear. The right point at which to stop, in proceeding from the prosaic tone towards that which becomes faulty, if carried to the opposite extreme, is a thing which depends on the exercise of the living voice, and can- notj therefore, be indicated with exactness in any SUGGESTIONS. 175 written explanations on the subject. It may be spoken of, in general, as a middle point between extremes. But, with the aid of an instructer, the learner will not find it difficult to be ascertained. The error in the inflection of the common metre stanzas J is to be rectified by referring to the lesson on inflections and that on tones. Extracts adapted to most of the objects of practice on this lesson, are interspersed in the preceding pages, and in the '^ miscellaneous exercises " which follow. Additional pieces may be selected from any volume of reading lessons. The American First Class Book contains, perhaps, the best variety of ex- tracts generally accessible for such purposes. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. [The following extracts are designed to be used, not as a complete collection of pieces for all the purposes of read- ing, but as examples on which to apply the rules and prin- ciples contained in the preceding pages of this work. By practising on these selections, the student will become pre- pared to make a more intelligent and effectual use of the reading books in common use. When opportunity admits of studying with the aid of a teacher, it would be advisable to go through every piece with a careful preparatory analysis, applying the rules of inflection, emphasis, and pausing, and the principles of modulation. The pencil may be used to advantage fur the j)urpose of marking the principal words and clauses of every sentence with their appropriate modifications of voice ; the usual accents being employed to designate the inflections — a single or double perpendicular line for the pauses, according to their comparative length — and single or double underscoring for emphasis, according to its force. The changes of force, pitch, and rate, may be designated on the margin by initial letters ; ld^[loud;) s,{soft;) h,{high;) Iw., {low ;) /, (fast ;) sL, [slow ;) and intermediate qualities thus, M, (moderate force ;) m, (middle pitch ;) m, (moderate rate.) The exercises presented in the subsequent pages, are graduated by the rhetorical classification of the pieces, com- mencing with narrative and descriptive style, and avoiding tlie introduction of didactic subjects till the easier forms of writing have been practised. This gradation^ though little 15 178 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, observed in most reading books, is of great importance to the acquisition of an easy, unaffected style of reading. The formal tones commonly heard in school reading, may nearly all be traced to the injudicious premature practice of read- ing didactic pieces. The natural progress of elocution is that of the growth and expansion of the mind itself. We first learn to tell what has happened to ourselves or others, next to describe an object or a place which we have seen, then to expre&s a sen- timent, arising, perhaps, from the incident which we relate or the scene which we describe. But most reading books commence with formal, didactic sentiments, originally ut- tered, perhaps, in the pulpit. The expression of these de- mands full maturity of mind; the discipline of much reflec- tive reasoning, and a perfect command of all the most com- plex and dilKcult principles of utterance. Such exercises are excellent subjects for practice, at a late stage of pro- gress in elocution ; but to prescribe them as elementary lessons, is equally absurd and injurious. The reading lessons which follow, have been selected not on the common princii)le of regard to the rhetorical ex- cellence of the composition, or the eminence of the author's name, a§ a classic in English literature, or the weight and value of the sentiment, which the extract is used to incul- cate. A reasonable attention to these points has not, it is hoped, been neglected. But the main object in view in the insertion of every piece introduced among the following lessons, has been to furnish matter adapted to the purposes of elocution^ — to present subjects which naturally produce true, vivid, effective reading. This result depends wholly on the character of the narration, or the description, or the sentiment, itself. The inspiration of genuine elocution must come from the thought or the emotion which the sub- ject necessarily involves. Classical accuracy or elegance of composition has very little to do with it. Nor is it the importance of a sentiment, in the abstract, that can rationally be expected to suggest an appropriate MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 179 elocution. A sentiment can be well expressed only on condition of its being true and natural to the individual who utters it. An artificial and mechanical tone, will otherwise be sure to betray affectation in the reader. The didactic pieces which are introduced in the following se- lection, have been chosen with reference to their tendency to produce true and spirited reading, especially in young students. If this result should, in some instances, appear to have been overlooked, it is owing to the necessity of pre- senting some pieces which miglit furnish adequate exercise for mature minds ; as the author hopes that this volume, though primarily intended for classes in schools and acade- mies, may be found useful to adults who are desirous of cultivating the art of elocution, for the purposes of pro- fessional life.] Exercise I. Extraordinary Memory. — Anecdotes of the French Revolution. Napoleon, late emperor of the French, possessed an uncommonly retentive memory. The articles of the civil code, after having been drawn up, and taken into consideration, in private conferences, were sub- mitted to the discussion of the council of state, at which Bonaparte frequently presided. Treilhard^ wondered at the readiness with which Napoleon fre- quently illustrated the point in question, by quoting, extempore, whole passages from the Roman civil law, — a subject which, from its nature, seemed to be entirely foreign to him. One day, the emperor re- quested his attendance in order to acquaint him with * An eminent jurist, employed in compiling the f*' Code Na- poleon>" 180 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, some new ideas on criminal legislation. After con- versing together, for some time, they formed them- selves into a little committee; and the counsellor of state took the liberty of asking the emperor how he had acquired so familiar a knowledge of law affairs, considering that his whole life had been spent in camps. Bonaparte replied: '' When I was a mere lieutenant, I was put under ar- rest, unjustly it is true ; but that is nothing to the point. The little room which was assigned for my prison, contained no furniture but an old chair, an old bed, and an old cupboard. In the cupboard was a ponder- ous folio volume, older and more worm-eaten than all the rest: it proved to be the Digest.^ As I had no paper, pens, ink, nor pencils, you may easily imagine that this book was a valuable prize to me. It was so voluminous, and the leaves were so covered with marginal notes in manuscript, that, had I been con- fined a hundred years, I could never have been idle. I was only ten days deprived of my liberty; but^ on recovering it, I was saturated with Justinian, | and the decisions of the Roman legislators. Thus I pick- ed up my knowledge of civil law." Ex. II. Domestic and personal character of Sir Walter Scott. — Peter's Letters. There is nothing like display or formal leading in Sir Walter's conversation. On the contrary, every * Compend of civil law. t The emperor by whose order was compiled the code of Ro- man civil law, and whose name it bears. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 18l body seems to speak the more that he is there to hear; and his presence seems to be enough to make every body speak delightfully; — as if it had been that some princely musician had tuned all the strings,, and, even under the sway of more vulgar fingers, they could not choose but discourse excellent music. His conversation, besides, is, for the most part, of such a kind that all can take a lively part in it; although, indeed, none that I ever met with can equal himself. It does not appear as if he ever could be at a loss, for a single moment, for some new supply of that which constitutes its chief peculiarity and its chief charm; the most kee.n perception, the most tenacious memory, and the most brilliant imagination, having been at work, through the whole of his busy life, in filling his mind with a store of individual traits and anecdotes, serious and comic, individual and national, such as, it is probable, no man ever before possessed, and such, still more certainly, as no man of great original powder ever before possessed, in subservience to the purposes of inventive genius. A youth spent in wandering among the hills and valleys of his native country, during which he became intensely familiar with all the lore of those grey- headed shepherds among whom the traditions of war- like, as w^ell as of peaceful times, find their securest dwelling-place, or in more equal converse with the relics of that old school of Scottish cavaliers, whose faith had nerved the arms of so many of his own race and kindred. Such a boyhood, and such a youth, laid the foundation, and established the earliest and most lasting sympathies of a mind which was destined, in after years, to erect upon this foundation, and im- prove upon these sympathies, in a way of which his 15=^ 182 MISCELLANKOUS EXERCISES. young and thirsting spirit could have then contem^ plated but little. Through his manhood of active and honoured, and now, for many years, of glorious exertion, he has al- ways lived in the world, and among men of the world; partaking in all the pleasures and duties of society, as fully as those who had nothing but these pleasures^ and these duties to attend to. Uniting, as never be- fore they were united, the habits of an indefatigable student with those of an indefatigable observer; and doing all this with the easy and careless grace of one who is doing so, not to task, but to gratify, his incli- nation and his nature; is it to be wondered at that the riches of his various acquisitions, should furnish a never-failing source of admiration, even to those who have known him longest,, and who know him best? Ex. III. Paine^s escapes from the Guillotine, — Life of Paine. Writing an account of his escapes, Paine says, ^'I was one of the nine members that composed the first 'committee of constitution.' Six of them have been destroyed: Sieyes and myself have survived. He, by bending with the times; and I, by not bend- ing. The other survivor joined Robespierre, and signed with him the warrant for my arrestation. After the fall of Robespierre, he was seized and imprisoned, in his turn, and sentenced to transportation. He has- since apologised to me for having signed the warrant, by saying he felt himself in danger, and was obliged to do it. Herault Schelles, an acquaintance of Mr. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 183 Jefferson's, and a good patriot, was my substitute, as a member of the committee of constitution; that is, he was to supply my place, if I had not accepted, or had resigned; — he being in number of votes next to me. He was imprisoned in the Luxembourg with me, was taken to the tribunal and to the guillotine; and I, his principal, was left. ** There were but two foreigners in the convention, Anacharsis Cloots and myself.. We were both put out of the convention by the same vote, arrested by the same order, and carried to prison together, the same night. He was taken to the guillotine; and I was again left. Joel Barlow w^as with us, when we went to prison. ''Joseph Lebon, one of the vilest characters that ever existed, and who made the streets of Arras run with blood, was my substitute for the department of the Pays de Calais. When I was put out of the con- vention, he came and took my place. When I was liberated from prison, and voted again into the con- vention, he v/as sent to the same prison, and took my place there; and he went to the guillotine instead of me. He supplied my place all the w^ay through. ''One hundred and sixty-eight persons were taken out of the Luxembourg, in one night, and a hundred and sixty of them guillotined the next day, of which number I know I was to have been one; and the man- ner in which I escaped that fate, is curious, and has all the appearance of accident. The room in which I w^as lodged, was on the ground-floor, and one of a long range of rooms under a gallery; and the door of it opened outward, and flat against the wall, so that, when it was open, the inside of the door ap- peared outward, and the contrary when it was shut. 184 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. '^I had three comrades fellow-prisoners with me; Joseph Vanhuile of Bruges, since president of the municipality of that town, Michael Robins, and Bas- tine Louvain. When persons, by scores and by hun- dreds, were to be taken out of prison for the guillo- tine, it was always done in the night; and those who performed the office, had a private mark or signal, by which they knew what rooms to go to, and what number to take. *' We, as I said, were four; and the door of our room was marked, — unobserved by us, — with that number, in chalk; but it happened, (if happening be a proper word,) that the mark was put upon the door when it was open, and fiat against the wall, and there- by came on the inside, when we shut it at night — and the destroying angel passed by. A few days after this, Robespierre fell; and the American ambassador arrived, and claimed me, and invited me to his house.'' Ex. IV. Henry Francis co.-^Sil\knB,n. Two miles from Whitehall, on the Salem road to Albany, lives Henry Francisco, a native of France. Having a few hours to spare, before the departure of the steamboat for St. Johns, in Canada, we rode out to see (probably) the oldest man in America. He believes himself to be one hundred and thirty-four years old; and the country aground believes him to be of this great age. When we arrived at his residence, (a plain farmer's house not painted, rather out of re- pair, and much open to the wind,) he was above MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 185 stairs, at his daily work of spooling and winding yarn. This occupation is auxihary to that of his wife, who is a weaver; and, although more than eighty years old, she weaves six yards a-day, and the old man can sup- ply her with more yarn than she can weave. Supposing he must be very feeble, we offered to go up stairs to him; but he soon came down, walking somewhat stooping, and supported by a staff, but with less apparent inconvenience than most persons ex- hibit at eighty-five or ninety. His stature is of the middle size; and, although his person is rather deli- cate and slender, he stoops but little, even when un- supported. His complexion is very fair and delicate, and his expression bright, cheerful, and intelligent: his features are handsome; and, considering that they have endured through one third part of a second century, they are regular, comely, and w^onderfully undisiigured by the hand of time: his eyes are of a lively blue: his profile is Grecian, and very fine: his head is completely covered with the most delicate and white locks imaginable, — they are so long and abundant, as to fall gracefully from the crown of his head, parting regularly from a central point, and reaching down to his shoulders: his hair is perfectly snow-white, except where it is thick in his neck; — when parted there, it shows some few dark shades, — the remnants of a former century. He still retains the front teeth of his upper jaw; his mouth is not fallen in like that of old people gen- erally; and his lips, particularly, are like those of middle life: his voice is strong and sweet-toned, al- though a little tremulous: his hearing, very little im- paired; so that a voice of usual strength, with dis- tinct articulation, enables him to understand: his eye- 186 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. sight is sufficient for his work; and he distinguishes large print, such as the title-page of the bible, with- out glasses: his health is good, and has always been so, except that he has now a cough. He informed us that his father, driven out of France by religious persecution, fled to Amsterdam. By his account, it must have been the persecution of the" French protestants, or Huguenots, in the latter part of the reign of Louis XIV. At Amsterdam, his father married his mother, a Dutch woman, five years be- fore Henry was born, and, before that event, returned with her into France. When he was five years old, his father again fled from persecution. He says he well remembers their flight, and that it was in the winter season; for he recollects that as they were de- scending a hill, which was covered with snow, he cried out to his father, '^ O father do go back, and get my little carriole!" From these dates we are enabled to fix the time of his birth, provided he is correct in the main fact; for he says he was present at Queen Anne's coronation, and was then sixteen years old, the thirty-first day of March, old style. His father, as he asserts, after his return from Holland, had been again driven from France, by persecution, and, the second time, took refuge in Holland, and afterwards in England, where he resided v/ith his family, at the time of the corona- tion of Queen Anne, in 1702. This makes Francisco to have been born in 1686, to have been expelled from France in 169J , and therefore to have completed his hundred and thirty-third year, on the eleventh of last June. Of course, he is now more than three months advanced in his hundred and thirty-fourth year. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 187 Ex. V. Miseries of War. — Silliman. The Baroness Redesdale gives, in her narrative^ the following recital respecting the death of general Fraser, who was killed while serving under general Burgoyne. •' Severe trials awaited us; and on the 7th of Octo- ber, our misfortunes began. I was at breakfast with my husbaad, and heard that something was intended. On the same day I expected the generals Burgoyne. Philips, and Fraser, to dine w^ith us. I saw a great movement among the troops: my husband told me it was a mere ' reconnoissance ; '* which gave me no con- cern; for it often happened. I walked out of the house,, and met several Indians in their war dresses, with guns in their hands. When I asked them where they were going, they cried out, '' War, war!" mean- ing that they were going to battle. This filled me with apprehensions; and I had scarcely got home be- fore I heard reports of cannon and musketry, which grew louder by degrees, till at last the noise became excessive. '^ About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guests whom I expected, general Fraser was brought in on a litter, mortally wounded. The table, which was already spread, was instantly removed, and a bed placed in its stead, for the wounded general. I sat trembling in a corner: the noise grew louder; and the alarm increased. The thought that my husband might * Movement not intended for actual battle. 188 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. perhaps be brought in wounded, in the same manner^ was terrible to me, and distressed me exceedingly. *^ General Fraser said to the surgeon, 'Tell me if my wound is mortal: do not flatter me.' The ball which had entered his body, had unfortunately passed through his stomach. I heard him often exclaim, with a sigh, 'Oh! fatal ambition! poor general Burgoyne! Oh! my poor wife!' He was asked if he had any re- quest to make, to which he replied that, if general Burgoyne would permit it, he should like to be buried at six o'clock in the evening, on the top of a redoubt which had been built there. ''At night, when I had put my children to bed, I could not go to sleep; as I had general Fraser and all the other wounded gentlemen in my room; and I was sadly afraid my children would awake, and, by their crying, disturb the dying man in his last mo- ments, who often addressed me, and apologised '*for the trouble he gave me/ "About three o'clock in the morning, I was told he could not hold out much longer. I had desired to be informed of the near approach of this sad crisis; and I then wrapped up my children in their clothes, and went with them into the room below. About eight o'clock in the morning, he died. After his corpse was laid outj and wrapped up in a sheet, we came again into the room; and we had this sorrowful sight before us the whole day; and, to add to the melan- choly scene, almost every moment some officer of my acquaintance was brought in wounded." MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 189 Ex. VI. Remarkable instance of Honesty. — Chinese Official Gazette. Tsing-Tai, a merchant of Chen-Si, going to Mong- Tsingj for the purpose of purchasing cotton, carried with him a purse containing a hundred and seventy ounces of silver. While on the road which passes near the mountain of Song-Kia, he accidentally drop- ped the purse, and continued his journey. On the following morning, a poor labourer, named Chi-Yeou, employed in tilling some ground close to the spot, found the money. So far from wishing to appropriate the treasure to his own use, he determined, at once, to restore it; and with this view he remained working in sight of the place where the purse was found, till late at night; hoping that the owner would return to claim his property. No one appearing, Chi- Yeou went home; and, on displaying the prize to his wife, she immediately exclaimed, ''O my dear hus- band, we must not think of keeping this money; for it does not belong to us. I would rather live in pov- erty, than take the substance of others. Endeavour, therefore, to find the right owner to-morrow, and give up his money." Tsing-Tai, on arriving at the inn, was not a little astonished at the dreadful loss he had sustained; but totally ignorant where the purse could have fallen, and persuaded that any search, on his part, would be useless, he caused an advertisement to be posted in various quarters of the town, describing the particu- lars, and promising to divide the whole sum with him 16 190 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. who should bring back the purse. Chi-Yeou soon heard of the public notice, and repaired, without a moment's loss of time, to the superintending manda- rin. ''I have found the purse," said he, ''send for the merchant of Chen-Si; and, by asking him a few questions, I can easily find out whether he is the right owner or not." ^ Tsing-Tai was accordingly summoned, and having answered a variety of interrogatories as to the form of the purse, and the sum of money it contained, there could be no doubt of the justice of his claim : he there- fore had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing it re~ turned inthe^ame state in which it fell from his mule. Transported with joy at this most agreeable sur- prise, Tsing-Tai opened the purse, and turned to the finder; addressing him in these words: ''I declared, in my notice, that I would divide the money with who- ever returned it. I now wish to keep my word." '' No," replied the labourer, '' I have no right to any part of the purse; and I will not receive a single ounce." The refusal of Chi-Yeou had no effect on the grateful merchant, who counted out eighty-five of the pieces, insisting on the former's accepting them, — - but to no purpose. All this passed at the door of Chi-Yeou; and many of his neighbours were witnesses of the admirable contention. At length, Tsing-Tai seeing that Chi-Yeou posi- tively refused the proffered reward, and anxious to prove his gratitude, adopted another plan. He placed a hundred and seven ounces on one side, and taking up the remaining sixty-three, said, ''I will not con- ceal from you that the portion of money which I have just put into the purse, was borrowed; but as to that in my hand, it is really my own. I request, therefore, MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 191 that you will not hesitate to accept it." ''No," re- plied, Chi-Yeou, *' I have no more right to one part than the other: both are your property ; and you must keep them." All who were present were so charmed with this proof of disinterestedness, that they immediately went to the chief mandarin, and related what had just hap- pened. The latter, equally struck with this circum- stance, and desirous that it should be made known to the government, called the parties before him, in- quired into all the particulars, and concluded by making a special report of the facts to the viceroy of Ho-Nan, the province in which they occurred. This officer instantly sent a present of fifty ounces in silver to the honest labourer and his wife, as an acknowledg- ment of their virtue. He gave them, at the same time, a picture representing the generous contention that took place before their door, with this motto in- scribed underneath: '' Jl husband and wife distinguish" ed by their disinterestedness and generosity.'^ Not content with these proofs of approbation, the viceroy ordered the treasurer-general of the province to register the fact, and circulate it in every direc- tion, in order that the people might profit by so praise-worthy an action. The governor of Mong- Sing was also ordered to erect a monument opposite to Chi-Yeou's house; and, finally, the whok case was considered worthy of being reported to the em- peror. The sovereign not less pleased with the story, than the viceroy, and determined to profit by so fair an op- portunity to promote a reformation among those of his subjects who might feel less inclined to perform similar acts of virtue, wrote a mandate, with his own 192 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. hand, a copy of which was sent into the respective provinces, accompanied by a transcript of the vice- roy's memorial, — ordaining that the labourer Chi- Yeou was to be henceforth regarded as an honorary mandarin of the seventh class; that he should have the privilege of wearing the robe and the cap allotted to that rank ; in addition to all which a hundred ounces were given to him, for the purpose of exciting others to imitate his example. Ex. YU. Louis XL, and the Prior of Cosmo, — Hall. ' The prior of Cosmo, a man of singular piety, even in an age famous for its devotion, had obtained the king's permission to make a pilgrimage to the holy land; and so much time had elapsed since his de- parture, that it became the fixed belief of many, — but especially of those who had any interest in so believ- ing, — that he had either died during his journey,, or was held in perpetual captivity by the infidels. Among those who most pertinaciously held this opin- ion, was one of the king's chaplains, who had long set his eye and heart on what he willingly consid- ered the vacant priory; and so frequently and forci- bly did he express his opinion on this head, that the king himself began at last to consider that what was every day asserted could not very well be without foundation; and the chaplain became, in consequence, prior of Cosmo. Scarcely, however, had he begun to have a lively sense of his sovereign's goodness, and his own com- MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 193 fort, and to feel himself at home in his new dignity, when, one morning, blanched with fatigue and age, and supporting his enfeebled frame on his long pil- grim's staff, the old prior himself made his appear- ance at the royal levee. As may be supposed, this sudden apparition produced much surprise, and a little awkwardness. Louis XI. had too high notions of royal consistency ever to undo what he had once done, whether right or wrong; while, at the same time, his generous dis- position would not suffer him to regard the offence of the old man's being thus inconveniently alive as call- ing for any very severe or immediate punishment. He therefore received him very graciously, touched as little as possible upon the loss of his priory, spoke of omitting no opportunity of benefiting him, in any way he might be able to point out, asked questions about the grand Turk, and concluded by consigning him to Philip de Comines, his secretary for the home depart^ ment, who, with a most friendly squeeze of the hand, bowed him out of the palace. The old man had, unfortunately, however, some stubborn notions of right about him, which prevented his acquiescing, as readily as became a loyal subject, in the loss he had sustained, notwithstanding the very flattering manner in which it was palliated. On the contrary, he omitted no opportunity of presenting himself before the royal countenance, and requesting, in earnest but respectful terms, that his priory might be restored to him. Now not only was there a degree of provoking ob- stinacy in this conduct, but there was even an odor of treason about it; for, as Louis justly reasoned, thus to iterate his suit was, by implication, to assert that, 16=* 194 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. without such iteration, it would prove unavailing;-^ and what was this, but to impeach the sovereign's prime attribute of justice, and thus covertly to hold him up as unfit for his kingly office? It was upon the spur of some such reflections as these, and immedi- ately after an interview with the importunate subject of them, that Louis, calling to his friend and minister, < Tristan, bade him without delay dispose of the prior of Cosmo, that he might be no more troubled with him. Now Tristan was not only too loyal to dispute his master's will, but he had moreover the delicacy of feeling which forbade him to pry into the reasons by which it might be influenced, in his mind, the will of heaven and that of the king were the same thing; or, rather, the latter claimed a superiority over the former, in proportion as the consequences of obedi- ence or rebellion in the latter case, were more sen- sible and more immediate than in the former. He ac- cordingly took an opportunity of calling on the prior, that same evening, whom he found, nothing aware of his approaching fate, enjoying a social hour with a few particular friends. As Tristan was well known to be a favourite at court, it may be supposed he was received with the utmost politeness, and requested to take a seat at the table. The invitation he at first modestly declined; but, upon being pressed, consented to take a single glass of wine; after which, he requested a few mo- ments' private conversation with the prior, to whom, as soon as they were alone, he presented the royal order, together with the sack in which he was to be enclosed and thrown into the Seine. The next morning, as king Louis was taking the air litlSCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 195 in the Louvre garden, chatting freely with his faithful Tristan on matters concerning the welfare of his Tealm, and inwardly congratulating himself on being at length rid of the eternal prior, on turning suddenly the corner of an alley, to his inexpressible dismay, he beheld the apparition of the old bearded suitor again crawling towards him. '' Ah! traitor," he exclaimed, turning upon Tristan, ''did I not charge you to rid me of that cursed prior ; and here he is again before me?" '' Sire," replied the terrified favourite, ''you charged me to rid you of the prior of Cosmo; and 1 went accordingly to the priory, whence I took and drowned him, yesterday evening. But gracious sir, there is no harm done by the mistake: a prior more or less can make but little difference this evening: I'll rid you of this one also." "No, no," said the king, smiling graciously, (for he w^as a monarch of most legitimate facetiousness,) " one prior is enough at a time. — Go, old man, and take possession of your priory: you'll now find it vacant." Ex. VIII. Religious Character of the Tyrolese. —Ohsevvations on the Tyrolese. Perhaps the most remarkable feature in the charac- ter of the Tyrolese, is their uniform piety, — a feeling which is nowhere so universally diffused, as among their sequestered valleys. The most cursory view of the country, is sufficient to demonstrate the strong hold which religion has taken on the minds of the peasantry. Chapels are built at almost ev^ry half 196 MlSCELLANEOtrs EXERCISES. mile on the principal roads, in which the passenger may perform his devotions, or which may awaken the thoughtless mind to a recollection of its religious duties. The rude efforts of art have there been ex- erted to portray the leading events in the life of our Saviour; and innumerable figures carved in wood, attest, in every part of the country, both the barba- rous taste of the people, and the fervour of their reli^ gious impressions. Even in the higher parts of the mountains, where hardly any vestiges of human cultivation are to be found, — in the depth of untrodden forests, or on the summits of seemingly inaccessible cliffs, the symbols of devotion are to be found ; and the cross rises everywhere amidst the wilderness, as if to mark the triumph of Christianity over the greatest obstacles of nature. Nor is it only in solitudes or deserts that the ves^ tiges of their devotion are to be found. In the val- leys and in the cities it still preserves its ancient sway over the people. On the exterior of most houses the legend of some favourite saint, or the sufferings of some popular martyr, are to be found; and the poor inhabitant thinks himself secure from the greater evils of life, under their heavenly guardianship. In every valley, numerous spires are to be seen, rising amidst the beauty of the surrounding scene, and re- minding the traveller of the piety of its simple in- habitants. On Sunday, the whole people flock to church, in their neatest and gayest attire; and so great is the number who frequent these places of worship, that it is not unfrequent to see the peasants kneeling on the turf in the church-yard where mass is performed, from MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 197 being unable to find a place within the walls of the church. Regularly, in the evening, prayers are read in every family; and the traveller who passes through the villages, at the hour of twilight, often sees, through their latticed windows, the young and the old kneeling together round their humble fire, or is warned of his approach to human habitation, by hearing their eve- ning hymns stealing through the solitude and silence of the forest = Ex. IX. Mexican Indian Dance. — Hippesley. The Indian dance is not only amusing but scien- tific: it would create wonder and applause on any stage in Europe. The leader is styled their chief, or Indian king, to whom the others pay implicit obedi- ence. The chief, and twelve Indian lads, from twelve to fifteen years of age, are dressed in the costume of the country. A short petticoat tied round the waist, and decorated with various coloured feathers, com- poses the whole of the body dress. The petticoat ex- tends almost to the knees, and is very tastefully orna- mented. Round the head, a coronet of coloured paper is displayed, decorated with plumes of feathers; and their long, twisted, black hair gives a finished ap- pearance to the whole. The chief alone wears a mantle, adorned with pieces of scarlet cloth, gracefully thrown over his shoulders, and, with a sort of sceptre in his hand, commands the whole. He wears a large coronet on his head. The boys are all armed with bows and arrows; and. 198 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. having formed themselves into two lines, their king walks down the middle, and seats himself in the chair of state. He is supposed to personate Montezuma, who, on receiving a letter from Cortez, demanding unconditional surrender of his person and treasures, is so irritated and displeased as to cause him to tear the letter in pieces before his body-guard; aad, hav- ■ ing imparted to them its contents, demands of them if they are willing to die in their chieftain's defence. Their answer is an instantaneous prostration of them- selves at the feet of their monarch, in token of their firm resolution to defend him to the last extremity, and to die in his cause. The piece then concludes; and dancing recommences. The pole-dance usually closes the diversion of the afternoon, — a dance so called from the production of a pole about ten feet high, and about four or five inches in circumference. At the head is a round ball, or trunk, immediately under which are fastened twelve differently coloured and variously striped pieces of French tape, about half an inch broad, and about twelve feet in length. The pole being kept perpendicularly supported, each Indian lad lays hold of a line of tape, which is drawn to its full length; the whole forming a large circle around the pole, one. regularly covering his companion in front. At a sig- nal from the chief, the music strikes up a favourite tune; and the circle is set in motion, half of the per- formers facing to the right. On the second signal, each steps off*, and, meeting the others, they pass on, in succession, right and left, and so continue until the twelve lines of tape are entwined, in checked order, from the top to the bottom of the pole; and so regu- lar is the appearance, that it would be difficult to find MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 199 a flaw or mistake. A halt, for a moment, takes place; and the same process is again renewed, to un- wind the tape, which is as regularly completed as be- fore, by inverting the dance, and leading from left to right. This exercise is not only graceful, but the movements of the whole are in step and time to the various cadences which the instrument produces. At the various periods when I saw this performance, the instrument was a violin, and the tune a favourite French waltz. Ex. X= Modern Venice, — Letters from Venice. The city, viewed from Fusina, presents a remark- able and superb appearance, rising as from the waters, and crowned with pinnacles, domes, and spires. We entered by the Grand Canal, and landed near the famous Rialto, composed of a single arch throv>ai over the canal. But how beautiful soever it may appear to the Venitians, v/e thought it trifling, when compared with the graceful proportions of the Black Friars' and Waterloo bridges of our own capital. We ascended the tower of St. Mark, in order to obtain a general idea of this metropolis. Its height is not extraordinary; but, from the flatness of the surrounding scenery, it gives the spectator an advan- tageous view of the city, its port, and shipping, and the windings of the neighbouring coasts. One side of this celebrated square was designed by Palladio, and is characterised by the richest archi- 200 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. tectural ornaments. It affords a principal promenade in the evenings, and, when fully lighted, has a bril- liant appearance. The ground floors are occupied chiefly by caffes, and the shops of jewellers, in which gold chains are sold by weight, and vary in price, according to the value of bullion. The church of St. Mark, which occupies one side of the square, was constructed on the model of Santa Sophia, at Constantinople. If it is a correct copy, the taste of the original must have been defective. The interior has a gloomy appearance ; but it boasts of large designs in mosaic, over the domes. The floor, which undulates like the waves of the sea, is adorned in the same manner. The exterior is decorated with five domes, and numerous statues; and its walls are painted in fresco; but the general outline is heavy. The famous bronze horse, supposed to have been the workmanship of Lysippus, surmounts the portico. In the library, formerly the council-room, are por- traits of the doges, and paintings representing the ^ sieges and the reduction of Constantinople by the' Venitians; and, on the ceiling, a beautiful design of the civic Genius crowned by Fame. This last is from the pencil of Paul of Verona. Here is also a marble bust of the emperor of Austria, and a sculp- ture of Ganymede borne aloft by the eagle. The present council-room and its ante-chamber are orna- mented by the same painter. Proceeding to the palace, we were shown, in the first room, a veiled statue of Coradini, similar to that of Pudor at Naples; in the third, paintings of Lucre- tia stabbing herself, and Moses striking the rock; in the fourth, a sacrifice of Iphigenia; and in the fifths MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 201 the story of Phaeton driving the chariot of the sun. The designs of all these are beautiful ; and hours might be spent in their investigation. In the eighth room, is a cartoon of Raphael representing Noah en- tering the ark, and two paintings of John the Baptist. The floors are paved with rich mosaic. In La Scuola are some fine paintings of the Annunciation, the Cru- cifixion, and the slaughter of the Innocents: the latter seems a favourite subject with the Venitians. The churches are handsome and similarly ornamented. In that of Santa Maria della Salute, are some splendid pieces by Titian, The arsenal, once so celebrated, is now shut up. Nearly four hundred bridges form a communication between the different streets; and the gondolas are continually in motion, gliding along with incredible rapidity, whilst the splendid churches and palaces which are constantly presenting themselves, form a pleasing succession, and interest the traveller as well by their magnificence as their novelty. Ex. XL Institution for the Education of Blind Children at Vienna, — Letters from Vienna. During my stay in Vienna, I visited, among other curiosities, the institution for the education of blind children. The building is situated in one of the suburbs. The two lateral wings of the edifice en- close a spacious court-yard, and adjoin a garden, planted with shady trees, and furnished with green bowers and seats. 17 I 202 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES* I must confess I experienced a sort of melancholy sensation, on entering the school-room where about thirty blind children were assembled. But my sad- ness was soon dissipated, when I saw that these un- fortunate beings were reconciled to their fate, and most of them very cheerful. Not to disturb them in this happy mood, and to avoid exciting desires in^ them, which it would be impossible to satisfy, a print- ed table is hung upon the wall, requesting stranger& to forbear from expressing, aloud, any sentiment of sympathy. If all the children of this institution were such as had been deprived of their sight from their birth, it would require less art to explain how they support, with so much indifference, the want of the noblest of the senses, and are withal content and happy; as in this case they may be said, with great propriety, ta be ignorant of what they forego. But there are also- to be found amongst them some young men who, till their eighth, nay, even till their twelfth year, had en- joyed their sight, and who, nevertheless, grieve and repine as little as the blind born. Besides that youth assuages every ill, the society of their equals at the institution, and the continual activity and useful oc- cupation, in which they are kept, contribute to their cheerfulnessc Of the advantageous effect of the latter means upon them, I felt the more convinced from the explanation given me, and the rest of the company present, of the method of instruction, and on being shown the exer- cises and acquirements of the pupils. Music formed the first part. From twelve to four- teen pupils, partly with wind and partly with chorded instruments, performed several pieces according to MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 203 the rules of the musical art. They joined so accu- rately, observed time and every thing else with such precision, as to leave nothing to desire. Theirs is not a laboriously acquired mechanical expertness without theory. They are acquainted with the noting system, are able to practise whole pieces by raised and tangible notes; and their instruction in music is founded on theoretical principles, on their fine musical ear, in which they excel the greater part of those who can see, and on the always preceding instruction in singing. By these means they make rapid progress, even in the execution, so that if lon- ger pieces are but twice or thrice played to them, they enter fully into their comprehension. Two boys of twelve years, played a four-handed sonata of Mo- zart's with the greatest accuracy. We next saw the blind read and write. For read- ing, they make use of a raised letter-press, which they read very expeditiously, by the touch. With this letter-press, several mottoes, prayers, almanacs, and tables for history, have been printed^ partly by^ the pupils themselves. Writing is practised in the usual way, with a lead pencil, with a pin, or v/ith ink. I obsjerved several boys write, very legibly, a theme dictated by a stran- ger. As it so happened that these very children had been blind from their birth, and had therefore never seen the figure of a letter, I could not but consider this the most difficult part of the instruction of the hlind. A particular kind of characters, which appeared as if pierced through with pins, but was, as ^ve saw afterwards, done with letters consisting of fine points, affords material service to the blind. These charac- 204 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. ters are legible to them by the touch; and they cor- respond by means of them with their absent parents and relations, who answer them in similar characters. We had an opportunity of seeing such letters ad- dressed to a young girl at the institution, and which had been written by her mother residing at the dis- tance of eighty leagues from her. You must form a proper conception of the situation of both mother and daughter, in order to appreciate the value of an ex- pedient so capable of affording them consolation. Ex. XII. Phenomena of the Atmosphere of J\*eivfoundland, — Anspach. In Europe, the dry freezing winds proceed from north to east: in Newfoundland, they are from north to west. When these winds prevail, the sky is clear, and of a dark blue, and the nights transcendently beautiful. The moon displays far greater radiance than in Europe; and in her absence her function is not ill-supplied by the uncommon and fiery brightness of the stars. The aurora borealis frequently tinges the sky with coloured rays of such brilliancy, that their splendor, not effaced even by that of the full moon, is of the utmost magnificence when the moon does not shine. Sometimes it begins in the form of a scarf of bright light, with its extremities resting on the hori- zon which, with a motion resembling that of a fishing- net, and a noise similar to the rustling of silk, glides softly up the sky, when the lights frequently unite in the zenith, and form the top of a crown: at other MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 205 VimeSj the motion is like that of a pair of colours, waving in the air; and the different tints of light pre- sent the appearance of so many vast streamers of changeable silk, or spreading into vast columns and altering slowly or by rapid motions into an immense variety of shapes, varying their colours from all the tints of yellow, to the most obscure russet. After having briskly skimmed along the heavens, or majestically spread itself from the horizon to the zenith, on a sudden it disappears; leaving behind a uniform dusky tract: this is again illuminated, and, in the same manner, suddenly extinguished. Some- times it begins with some insulated rays from the north and the north east, which increase by degrees till they fill the whole sky] forming the most splendid sight that can be conceived, crackling, sparkling, hissing, and making a noise similar to that of artificial fire-works. These phenomena, which are generally considered as the effects of electricity, are looked upon as the forerunners of storms; and when these arise from the north-east, they spread the most horrid gloom over the island. Immense islands and fields of ice, brought down from the northern regions, fill up and freeze every bay and harbor, and block up the coast, to the distance of several leagues into the ocean. The wind blowing over this immense surface, is full of frozen fogs, or frost-smoke, rising from the ice, in the shape of an infinite number of spicuhe, visible to the naked eye, penetrating every pore of the body, and the smallest apertures of the wooden houses, and render- ing exposure to the open air very disagreeable and even painful. 17* » 206 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES* Ex. XIII. Genius and Method, — Diderot. At seven o^clock, the company sat down to cardsj and Messrs. Le Roy, Grimm, the Abbe Galiani, and I, began to converse, A dispute arose between Grimm and Le Roy about genius and method. Grimm detests method : it is, according to himj the pedantry of literature. Those that can do nothing, he maintained, but arrange, had better not give themselves the trouble; those who can learn nothing but by means of arrangements, had as well remain ignorant. '' But," said Le Roy, ''it is method which makes genius available." — ''And which spoils it." They said a great many things which it is not worth while mentioning to you; and they would have said a great many m.ore, had not Galiani inter- rupted them. "I remember a fable, my friends, which I must tell you. It is rather long, perhaps, but it won't tire you. " One day in the middle of a wood, there arose a dispute about singing between the nightingale and the cuckoo. Each gave the preference to his own talent. ' What bird,' said the cuckoo, ' has so simple, natural, and measured a song as I?' — 'What bird,' said the nightingale, ' has a song so sweet, varied, light, and brilliant as mine?' ' I say few things/ said the cuckoo, 'but they have weight and order, and one remembers them.' 'I am fond of talking,' said the nightingale, ' but what I say is always new, and never wearies. I enchant the woods, the cuckoo saddens them. He is so attached to his mother's les- MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 207 son, that he never hazards a note he has not learned from her. I acknowledge no teacher: I laugh at rules; and it is when I break through them that I am most admired. Where is the comparison between your dull method and my happy flights?' ''The cuckoo made many attempts to interrupt the nightingale. But nightingales sing for ever, and never listen — it is a little failing of theirs. Our friend, carried away by her ideas, ran on without minding her rival's answer. 'VAt last, however, they agreed to refer the matter to some arbitrator. But where were they to find an enlightened and impartial judge? They set out in search of one. *' In crossing a meadow, they fell in with an ass of the most grave and solemn aspect. Such length of ears never was seen since the creation of the species. * Ah!' said the cuckoo, ' we are in luck. Our quar- rel is an affair of the ear, and here is an admirable pair of them. This is the very judge we want.' ''The ass was browsing, and never dreaming that he was one day to be a judge of music. But stranger things sometimes happen. Our two birds lighted be- side him, complimented him on his gravity and judg- ment, explained the subject of their dispute, and beg- ged him very humbly to decide it. "But the ass, scarcely turning round his clumsy head, and continuing to browse most diligently, made them a sign with his ears that he was hungry, and that he was not that day holding a bed of justice. The birds insist — the ass continues to browse. At last, however, his appetite was appeased. There were some trees planted on the skirt of the meadow. 'Well,' said he, 'go there, and I will come to you. 208 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES* You sing and I will digest. I will listen to you, and then give you my opinion.' ''The birds take flight, and perch in a tree. The ass follows them with the air and step of a chief jus- tice. He lay down on the grass, and called to them, ' Begin: the court will hear you.' '' 'My lord,' said the cuckoo, 'you must not lose a note I sing; you must seize the character of my song; and, above all, be pleased to observe its con- trivance and method.' Then, drawing himself up, and clapping his wings each time, he began to sing, 'Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckuckoo, cuckoo, cuckuckoo!' and after having combined these notes in all possible ways, he held his peace. "The nightingale, without any preamble, began to display her voice, struck into the boldest modular tions, and warbled the most singular and original strains. Her song was successively sweet, airy, bril- liant, and pathetic; but it was not music for every* body. " Carried away by her enthusiasm, she would have sung longer; but the ass, who had been yawning fearfully all the while, interrupted her. ' I have no doubt,' said he, 'that all that you have been singing is very fine, but I can make nothing of it. It seems to me to be strange, confused, and incoherent. You are perhaps more learned than your rival, but he is more methodical than you; and, for my part, I am for method.' "Now," said the Abbe, addressing M. Le Roy, and pointing to Grimm with his finger, "there is the nightingale — you are the cuckoo — and I am the ass who decides in your faveur. Good night!" MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 209 Ex. XIV. Wisdom of Providence, — Addison. As I was walking, this morning, in the great yard that belongs to my friend's country house, I was won- derfully pleased to see the different workings of in- stinct in a hen followed by a brood of ducks. The young, upon the sight of a pond, immediately ran into it; while the stepmother, with all imaginable anxiety, hovered about the borders of it, to call them out of an element that appeared to her so dangerous and de- structive. As the different principle which acted in these different animals, cannot be termed reason, so when we call it instinct, we mean something we have no knowledge of. To me, as I hinted in my last paper, it seems the immediate direction of Providence, and such an operation of the Supreme Being, as that which determines all the portions of matter to their proper centres. A modern philosopher, quoted by Monsieur Bayle in his learned dissertation on the Souls of Brutes, delivers the same opinion, though in a bolder form of words, where he says, ^^God himself is the soul of brutes." Who can tell what to call that seeming sagacity in animals, which directs them to such food as is proper for them, and makes them naturally avoid whatever is noxious or unwholesome ? Dampier, in his Travels, tells us, that when seamen are thrown upon any of the unknown coasts of America, they never venture upon the fruit of any tree, how tempting soever it may appear, unless they observe that it is marked with the pecking of birds; but fall on without any fear or apprehension where the birds have been before them. 210 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. But, notwithstanding animals have nothing like the use of reason, we find in them all the lower parts of our nature, the passions and senses, in their greatest strength and perfection. And here it is worth our observation, that all beasts and birds of prey are won- derfully subject to anger, malice, revenge, and all other violent passions that may animate them in search of their proper food; as those that are incapable of defending themselves, or annoying others, or whose safety lies chiefly in their flight, are suspicious, fear- ful, and apprehensive of every thing they see or hear; whilst others, that are of assistance and use to man, have their natures softened with something mild and tractable, and by that means are qualified for domes- tic life. In this case, the passions generally corres- pond with the make of the body. We do not find the fury of a lion in so weak and defenceless an animal as a lamb, nor the meekness of a lamb in a creature so armed for battle and assault as the lion. In the same manner we find that particular animals have a more or less exquisite sharpness and sagacity in those particular senses which most turn to their ad- vantage, and in which their safety and welfare is the most concerned. Nor must we here omit that great variety of arms with which Nature has diflferently fortified the bodies of several kinds of animals ; such as claws, hoofs, horns, teeth, and tusks, a tail, a sting, a trunk, or a proboscis. It is likewise observed by naturalists, that it must be some hidden principle, distinct from what we call reason, which instructs animals in the use of these their arms, and teaches them to manage them to the best advantage; because they naturally de- fend themselves with that part in which their strength MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 211 lies, before Ihe weapon be formed in it; as is remark- able in lambs, which, though they are bred within doors, and never saw the actions of their own species, push at those who approach them, with their foreheads, before the first budding of a horn appears. I shall add to these general observations an in- stance, which Mr. Locke has given us, of Providence even in the imperfections of a creature which seems the meanest and most despicable in the whole animal world. ** We may," says he, ''from the make of an oyster or cockle, conclude, that it has not so many nor so quick senses as a man, or several other ani- mals: nor, if it had, would it, in that state and inca- pacity of transferring itself from one place to another, be bettered by them. What good would sight and hearing do to a creature, that cannot move itself to or from the object, wherein at a distance it perceives good or evil? And would not quickness of sensation be an inconvenience to an animal that must be still w^here chance has once placed it, and there receive the afflux of colder or warmer, clean or foul water, as it happens to come to it.^" I shall add to this instance out of Mr. Locke ano- ther out of the learned Dr. More, who cites it from Cardan, in relation to another animal which Provi- dence has left defective, but at the same time has shown its wisdom in the formation of that organ in which it seems chiefly to have failed. ''What is more obvious and ordinary than a mole ? and yet what more palpable argument of Providence than she ? — the members of her body are so exactly fitted to her nature and manner of life: for her dwelling under ground where nothing is to be seen, Nature has so obscurely fitted her with eyes, that naturalists can 212 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. scarce agree whether she have any sight at all, or no. But for amends, what she is capable of for her defence and warning of danger, she has very emi- nently conferred upon her; for she is exceedingly quick of hearing. And then her short tail and short legs, but broad fore feet armed with sharp claws; we see by the event to what purpose they are, she so swiftly working herself under ground, and making her way so fast in the earth as they that behold it cannot but admire it. Her legs therefore are short, that she need dig no more than will serve the mere thickness of her body; and her fore feet are broad that she may scoop away much earth at a time; and little or no tail she has, because she courses it not on the ground, like the rat or mouse, of whose kindred she is; but lives under the earth, and is fain to dig herself a dwelling there. And she making her way through so thick an element, which will not yield easily, as the air or the water, it had been dangerous to have drawn so long a train behind her; for her enemy might fall upon her rear, and fetch her out, before she had completed or got full possession of her works." I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. Boyle's remark upon this last creature, who, I remember, somewhere in his works observes, that though the mole be not totally blind, (as it is commonly thought,) she has not sight enough to distinguish particular objects. Her eye is said to have but one humour in it, which is supposed to give her the idea of light but of nothing else, and is so formed that this idea is prob- ably painful to the animal. Whenever she comes up into broad day she might be in danger of being taken, unless she were thus affected by a light striking upon her eye, and immediately warning her to bury herself MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 213 in her proper element. More sight would be useless to her, as none at all might be fatal, I have only instanced such animals as seem the most imperfect works of nature; and if Providence shows itself even in the blemishes of these creatures, how much more does it discover itself in the several <3ndowments which it has variously bestowed upon such creatures as are more or less finished and com- pleted in their several faculties, according to the con- dition of ii^e in which they are posted! I could wish our Royal Society would compile a body of natural history, the best that could be gathered together from books and observations. If the several writers among them took each his particular species, and gave us a distinct account of its original, birth, and education; its policies, hostilities, and alliances; with the frame and texture of its inward and outward parts, and particularly those that distinguish it from all other animals, with its peculiar aptitudes for the state of being in which Providence has placed it; it would be one of the best services their studies could do mankind, and not a little redound to the glory of the all-wise Contriver, It is true, such a natural history, after ali the dis- quisitions of the learned, would be infinitely short and defective. Seas and deserts hide millions of animals from our observation. Innumerable artifices and stratagems are acted in the ''howling wilderness'' and in the *' great deep," that can never come to our knowledge. Besides that there are infinitely mere species of creatures which are not to be seen without, nor indeed with the help of the finest glasses, than of such as are bulky enough for the naked eye to take hold of. However, from the consideration of such 18 ( 214 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. animals as lie within the compass of our knowiedgc^ we might easily form a conclusion of the rest, that the same variety of wisdom and goodness runs through the whole creation, and puts every creature in a con- dition to provide for its safety and subsistence in its proper station. Ex. XV, Good'JVatiire. — Addison. There is nothing which we ought more to encour- age in ourselves and others, than that disposition of mind which in our language goes under the title of good-nature. Good-nature is more agreeable in conversation than wit, and gives a certain air to the countenance which is more amiable than beauty. It shows virtue in the fairest light, takes off, in some measure, from the de- formity of vice, and makes even folly and imperti- nence supportable. There is no society or conversation to be kept up in the world without good-nature, or something which must bear its appearance, and supply its place. For this reason mankind have been forced to invent a kind of artificial humanity, which is what we express by the word good-breeding. For if we examine thor- oughly the idea of what we call so, we shall find it to be nothing else but an imitation and mimicry of good-nature, or, in other terms, affability, complai- sance, and easiness of temper, reduced into ah art. These exterior shows and appearances of humanity render a man wonderfully popular and beloved, when MISCELLANEOaS EXERCISES. 215 they are founded upon a real good-nature; but, with- out it, are like hypocrisy in religion, or a bare form of holiness, which, when it is discovered, makes a man more detestable than professed impiety. Good-nature is generally born with us : health, prosperity, and kind treatment from the world, are great cherishers of it where they find it; but nothing is capable of forcing it up, where it does not grow of itself. It is one of the blessings of a happy constitu- tion, which education may improve, but not produce, Xenophon, in the life of his imaginary prince, whom he describes as a pattern for real ones, is always cele- brating the philanthropyj or good-nature, of his hero, which he tells us he brought into the world with him; and gives many remarkable instances of it in his childhood, as well as in all the several parts of his life. Nay, on his deathbed, he describes him as being pleased, that while his soul returned to Him who made it, his body should incorporate with the great mother of all things, and by that means become bene- ficial to mankind. For which reason he gives his sons a positive order not to enshrine it in gold or silver, but to lay it in the earth as soon as the life was gone out of it. An instance of such an overflowing of humanity, such an exuberant love to mankind, could not have entered into the imagination of a writer, who had not a soul filled with great ideas, and a general benevo- lence to mankind. In that celebrated passage of Sallust, where Caesar and Cato are placed in such beautiful but opposite lights, Caesar's character is chiefly made up of good- nature, as it showed itself in all its forms towards his friends or his enemies, his servants or dependants, the 216 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. guilty or the distressed. As for Cato^s character, k is rather awful than amiable. Justice seems the most agreeable to the nature of God, and mercy to that of man. A being, who has nothing to pardon in him- self, may reward every man according to his works; but he w4iose very best actions must be seen with grains of allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate/ and forgiving. For this reason, among all the mon- strous characters in human nature, there is none so odious, nor indeed so exquisitely ridiculous, as that of a rigid, severe temper in a worthless man. This part of good-nature, however, which consists in the pardoning and overlooking of faults, is to be exercised only in doing ourselves justice, and that too in the ordinary commerce and occurrences of life ; for in the public administrations of justice, mercy to one may be cruelty to others. It is grown almost into a maxim, that good-natured men are not always men of the most wit. This ob- servation, in my opinion, has no foundation in nature. The greatest wits I have conversed with are men emi- nent for their humanity. I take, therefore, this re- mark to have been occasioned by two reasons. First, because ill-nature, among ordinary observers, passes for wit. A spiteful saying gratifies so many little pas- sions in those who hear it, that it generally meets with a good reception. The laugh rises upon it, and the man who utters it, is looked upon as a shrewd satirist. This may be one reason why a great many pleasant companions appear so surprisingly dull, when they have endeavoured to be merry in print; the public being more just than private clubs or assemblies, in distinguishing between what is wit, and what is ill-^ nature. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 217 Another reason why the good-natured man may sometimes bring his wit in question, is, perhaps, be- cause he is apt to be moved with compassion for those misfortunes or infirmities which another would turn into ridicule, and by that means gain the reputation of a wit. The ill-natured man, though but of equal parts, gives himself a larger field to expatiate in; he exposes those failings in human nature which the other would cast a veil over, laughs at vices which the other either excuses or conceals, gives utterance to reflections which the other stifles, falls indifferently upon friends or enemies, exposes the person who has obliged him, and, in short, sticks at nothing that may establish his character of a wit. It is no w^onder, therefore, he succeeds in it better than the man of humanity; as a person who makes use of indirect methods, is more likely to grow rich than the fair trader. Ex. XVL Witchcraft. — Addison. There are some opinions in which a man should stand neuter, without engaging his assent to one side or the other. Such a hovering faith as this, which re- fuses to settle upon any determination, is absolutely necessary in a mind that is careful to avoid errors and prepossessions. When the arguments press equally on both sides, in matters that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to neither. It is with this temper of mind that I consider the 18* I 218 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. subject of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that are made from all parts of the world, not only from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but from every particular nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that there is such an intercourse and commerce with evil spirits, as that which we express by the name of witchcraft. But when I consider that^ the ignorant and credulous parts of the world abound most in these relations, and that the persons among us, who are supposed to engage in such an infernal commerce, are people of a weak understanding and crazed imagination, and at the same time reflect upon the many impostures and delusions of this nature that have been detected in all ages, I endeavour to sus- pend my belief till I hear more certain accounts than any which have yet come to my knowledge. In short, when I consider the question, whether there are such persons in the world as those we call witches, my mind is divided between the two opposite opinions, or rather, (to speak my thoughts freely,) I believe in general that there is, and has been such a thing as witchcraft; but at the same time can give no credit to any particular instance of it. I am engaged in this speculation by some occur- rences that I met with yesterday, which I shall give my reader an account of at large. As I was walking with my friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his W'oods, an old woman applied herself to me for my charity. Her dress and figure put me in mind of the following description in Otway: '* In a close lane as I pursued my journey^ I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red; MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 219 Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd withered; And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapt The tatter'd remnant of an old striped hanging, Which served to keep her carcass from the cold: So there was nothing of a piece about her. Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patch'd With different colour'd rags, black, red, white, yellow, And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness." As I was musing on this description, and comparing it with the object before me, the knight told me, that this very old woman had the reputation of a witch all over the country, that her lips were observed to be always in motion, and that there was not a switch about her house which her neighbours did not believe had carried her several hundreds of miles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found sticks or straws that lay in the figure of a cross before her. If she made any mistake at church, and cried Amen in a wrong place, they never failed to conclude that she was saying her prayers backwards. There was not a maid in the parish that would take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag of money with it. She goes by the name of Moll White, and has made the country ring with several imaginary exploits which are palmed upon her. If the dairy maid does not make her butter to come so soon as she would have it, Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a horse sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon his back. If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. ''Nay," says Sir Roger, ' ' I have known the master of the pack, upon such an occasion, send one of his servants to see if Moll White had been out that morning." This account raised my curiosity so far, that I beg- 220 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. ged my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel^ which stood in a solitary corner under the side of the %vood. Upon our first entering. Sir Roger winked to me, and pointed at something that stood behind the door, which, upon looking that way, I found to be an old broomstaff. At the same time he whispered me in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat that sat in the chimney corner, which, as the old knight told me, lay under as bad a report as Moll White herself; for besides that Moll is said often to accompany her in the same shape, the cat is reported to have spoken twice or thrice in her life, and to have played sev- eral pranks above the capacity of an ordinary cat. I was secretly concerned to see human nature in so much wretchedness and disgrace, but at the same time could not forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who is a little puzzled about the old woman, advising her as a justice of peace to avoid all communication with the devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbours' cattle. We concluded our visit with a bounty, which was very acceptable. In our return home, Sir Roger told me, that old Moll had been often brought before him for making children spit pins, and giving maids the nightmare; and that the country people would be tossing her into a pond, and trying experiments with her everyday, if it was not for him and his chaplain. I have since found upon inquiry, that Sir Roger was several times staggered with the reports that had been brought him concerning this old woman, and would frequently have bound her over to the county sessions, had not his chaplain with much ado per- suaded him to the contrary. I have been the more particular in this account, MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 221 because I hear there is scarce a village in England that has not a Moll White in it. When an old woman begins to dote, and grow chargeable to a parish, she is generally turned into a witch, and fills the whole country with extravagant fancies, imaginary distem- pers, and terrifying dreams. In the mean time, the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion of so many evils begins to be frightened at herself, and sometimes confesses secret commerces and familiarities that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. This fre- quently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of compassion, and inspires people w4th a malevolence towards those poor decrepid parts of our species, in whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage. Ex. XVII, Ship by Moonlight. — Wilson, It is the midnight hour: — the beauteous Sea, Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses, While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee, Far down within the watery sky reposes. As if the Ocean's breast were stirr'd With inw^ard life, a sound is heard, Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep; 'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air That lies like a garment floating fair Above the happy deep. The sea, I ween, cannot be fann'd By evening freshness from the land, For the land it is far away; But God hath will'd that the sky-born breeze. 222 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. In the centre of the loneliest sea, Should ever sport and play. The mighty moon she sits above, Encircled with a zone of love, A zone of dim and tender light That makes her wakeful eye more bright: She seems to shine with a sunny ray, And the night looks like a mellowed day I The gracious Mistress of the Main Hath now an undisturbed reign, xAnd from her silent throne looks down, As upon children of her own, On the waves that lend their gentle breast In gladness for her couch of rest. ^rafc ^ :^ ^ ^ ^ gp And lo! upon the murmuring waves A glorious Shape appearing, A broad-wing'd vessel, through the shower Of glimmering^ lustre steering! As if the beauteous ship enjoyed The beauty of the sea. She lifteth up her stately head, And saileth joyfully. A lovely path before her lies, A lovely path behind: She sails amid the loveliness Like a thing with heart and mind. Fit pilgrim through a scene so fair, Slowly she beareth on; A glorious phantom of the deep, Risen up to meet the moon. The moon bids her tenderest radiance fall On her wavy streamer and snow-white wings; And the quiet voice of the rocking sea MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 223 To cheer the gliding vision sings. Oh! ne'er did sky and water blend In such a holy sleep, Or bathe in brighter quietude A roamer of the deep. So far the peaceful soul of Heaven Hath settled on the sea, It seems as if this weight of calm Were from eternity. O World of Waters! the steadfast Earth Ne'er lay entranced like Thee! Is she a vision wild and bright, That sails amid the still moonlight At the dreaming soul's command.'* A vessel borne by magic gales, All rigg'd with gossamery sails, And bound for Fairy-land t Ah! no: — an earthly freight she bears, Of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears; And lonely as she seems to be, Thus left by herself on the moonlight sea In loneliness that rolls, She hath a constant company, In sleep or waking revelry. Five hundred human souls! Since first she sail'd from fair England, Three moons her path have cheered; And another lights her lovelier lamp Since the Cape hath disappeared. For an Indian isle she shapes her way : With constant wind, both night and day, She seems to hold her home in view, And sails as if the path she knew; So calm and stately is her motion Across the unfathom'd pathless ocean. 224 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. Ex. XVIII. Thoughts at Sunrise. — Anonymous. Gloria Patri!^ — 'tis the hour of prime, And praise and adoration; — 'tis the hour, Father of Mercies! when on wings sublime, The spirit of the day shows forth thy power, Rising in joy and glory o'er each clime, Shedding new life on creature, plant and flower. Gloria Patri! worm although I be, I'll bow my spirit here in pr^ayer to thee. On the lone heath-hill, while the sweet bird's hymn Commingles with my worship, and afar Fades on my sight night's ebon diadem. Wends on the vesper-wave each sister star Her pearly path, and struggling through the dim Twilight, where slept the moon in opal car, Nature arises, fresh in dewy bloom. Like renovated beauty from the tomb. Gloria Patri! — 'tis the hour of prime, And peace and purity, ere yet the sun Has sickened at the sight of care and crime. Or man his daily brow-dewed toil begun; — Gloria Patri! 'tis the hallowed time Most genial to the pure soul's orison, When all thy creatures, over earth and sea, Should raise one universal hymn to thee! And in my wandering, spirit of the day! - Oft have I blessed its beaming o'er the Rhine, * " Glory to the Father." MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 225 Or glancing thro' the sable forest's spray, Or lighting up the Jungfrau's brow divine, While mountain, lake, and city 'neath me lay, And friendship's arm was fondly locked in mine. Rent in the dust my harp and hand must be Ere cease their thrillings, sweetest hour, to thee. Gloria Patri! when the unsetting sun, **The Sun of Righteousness," comes forth in powder And mercy — when the earth her task has done, And crime and death shall vanish as this hour Scatters the gloom — oh! may each loved one Meet us again in Heaven's all tearless bower. And lift our souls, from sins and sorrows free, Gloria Patri! there in praise to thee! Ex. XIX. Forest Hymn. — Bryant. Father, thy hand, Hath rear'd these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches, till, at last, they stood, As now they stand, massy and tall and dark, Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker. 19 *226 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, Thou art in the soft winds That run along the summits of these trees In music; — thou art in the cooler breath, That, from the inmost darkness of the place, Comes, scarcely felt; — the barky trunks, the ground,. The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship; — nature, here, In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around. From perch to perch, the solitary bird Passes; and yon clear spring, that, ^midst its herbs^ Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left Thyself without a witness, m these shades. Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace^ Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak — By whose immovable stem I stand and seem Almost annihilated — not a prince, In all the proud old world beyond the deep, E'er wore his crown as loftily as he Wears tbe green coronal of leaves with which Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower,. With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, An emanation of the indwelling Life, A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide universe. My heart is awed within me, when I think Of the great miracle that still goes on, In silence, round me — the perpetual work MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES, 227 Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever. Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo! all grow old and die — but see, again, How OH the faltering footsteps af decay Youth presses— ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forfns. These lofty trees Wave not less proudly that their ancestors Moulder beneath them. Oh! there is not lost One of earth^s charms: upon her bosom yet. After the flight of untold centuries, The freshness of her far beginning lies And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate Of his arch enemy Death — yea — seats himself Upon the sepulchre, and blooms and smiles, And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe Makes kis own nourishment. For he came forth From thine own bosom, and shall have no end. Let me often to these solitudes Retire, and in thy presence reassure My feeble viKue. Here its enemies, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink, And tremble, and are slill. O God! when thou Dost scare the world with tempests, sett'st on fire The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fiU'st With all the waters of the firmament The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods, And drowns the villages; when, at thy call, Uprises the great deep, and throws himself Upon the continent, and overwhelms Its cities — who forgets not, at the sight Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, 228 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by? Oh! from these sterner aspects of thy face Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath Of the mad unchain'd elements to teach Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate In these calm shades thy milder majesty. And, to the beautiful order of thy works, Learn to conform the order of our lives. Ex. XX. Creation of Light, the Sun, and the Moon. — Milton. - *'Let there be Light," said God; and forthwith light Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure, Sprung from the deep; and from her native east To journey through the airy gloom began, Spher'd in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle Sojourn'd the while. Thus was the first day even and morn: Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung By the celestial quires, when orient light Exhaling first from darkness they beheld; Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shout The hollow universal orb they fill'd, And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning prais'd God and his works; Creator him they sung, Both when first evening was, and when first morn. God saw, Surveying his great work, that it was good. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 229 For of celestial bodies first the Sua A mighty sphere he fram'd, unlightsome first, Though of ethereal mould: then formM the Moon Globose^ an'^^^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 021 957 518 A! 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