Class __/;:M4:i:i L 
 
 Book .Ti3X 
 
 Goi)yright]^"_ljvl_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
THE ORATOK'S MANUAL 
 
 IS WHAT IT PURPORTS TO BE, VIZ I 
 
 A Practical 
 
 I think that its method is philosophical and sound, and is devel- 
 oped according to the practical judgment of an experienced teacher 
 of the subject. — Moses Coit Ti/ler, Prof, of Eng. Lit., Univ. Michigan. 
 
 I have long wished for just such a book to aid me in the criti- 
 cism of preaching. It is thoroughly practical and descends into 
 details, really helping the speaker who follows its suggestions 
 just where he needs the advice of a practical master. — J. M. Hoppin, 
 D.D., Prof, of Homiletics, Yale College. 
 
 We see everywhere in his book the hand of the experienced 
 teacher, meeting the difficulties gradually but surely, and overcoming 
 them with precision and ease. — The Tutor, Baltimore. 
 
 The completeness and exactness and simplicity of this manual 
 as a directory excite my admiration. It is so just and full of nature, 
 that I can imagine no course of training better adapted to develop 
 every man's own peculiar eloquence, while it fixes a standard of con- 
 formity, which must be mdispensable in common. — Alex. T. McGill, 
 D.D., LL.D., Prof, of Homiletics, Princeton Theological Seminary. 
 
 The work is evidently that of a skillful teacher, bringing before 
 students of oratory the results of philosophical thinking and successful 
 experience in an admirable form and a narrow compass. — J. W. 
 Churchill, Prof, of Elocution, Andover Theological Seminary. 
 
 and Philosophical Treatise 
 
 Builds on such deep foundations its simple instructions as to 
 leave room for no new "orator's manual " for years. — Chicago Alliance. 
 
 We regard this book as the freshest, clearest, most complete 
 and soundly philosophical work on a public speakers training that 
 it has been our fortune to meet. . . . The prefatory remarks are full 
 of good sense and ought first to be read. ... A faithful study of . . . 
 this book will result in a natural, graceful and effective style of pubHc 
 speaking. — The Christian Union {written hg Prof. J. W. Churchill). 
 
 It is more philosophical and thorough, according to my opin- 
 ion, than any other book on the subject. — Prof. John E. Earp, Ph. 
 D., Indiana Asbury University. 
 
 on Vocal Culture, 
 
 The portion on Vocal Culture . . . would work an entire revo- 
 lution in . . . some speakers, greatly to the satisfaction of their 
 hearers. — Central Christian Advocate, St. Louis. 
 
 "The Orator's Manual " is of value not only to public speakers 
 but also to singers and to all who wish a pleasinsr voice. . . . The 
 Professor understands the matter, and has given directions which 
 any person with ordinary intelligence can carry out. . . . We 
 know of no book that embodies our views of correct breathing as well 
 as this. — The Voice, Albany, N.Y. 
 
THE orator's MAITUAL. 
 
 Emphasis 
 
 His study of the varying vocal inflections proper for the expresgion 
 of varying emotions is surprisingly elaborate, . . . has done more 
 ... to reduce oratory to an exact science than any other elocutionist 
 with whom we have any acquaintance. — Philadelphia North American. 
 
 The pages devoted to the subject of emphasis are well worth, the 
 price of the book. — Hamilton College Literary Monthly. 
 
 An exhaustive study of the elements of emphasis.— C/in's^taw 
 Union. 
 
 and Gesture, 
 
 Particularly full on the subject of Gestures, showing their 
 natural language. — Wisconsin Journal of Education, 
 
 1 have been particularly struck with the value of the chapters on 
 Force and Gesticulation — the last a subject gitratly neglected and in 
 which we moderns are children when compared with the ancients. . . 
 Action of a dignified and powerful sort is almost unknown. — Prof. 
 Hoppin, of the Art School, Yale College. 
 
 With Selections for Declamation and Reading. 
 
 Are made with admirable judgment. — Boston Home Journal. 
 
 Elocution. — Maud asks for a collection of good pieces to speak. 
 . . . We cannot do better than to commend to her, and all lovers of 
 elocution, . . . "The Orator's Manual." ... It contains a very 
 choice selection of pieces for declamation and reading. — NeivYork 
 Tribune. 
 
 Designed as a Text-Book for Schools and Colleges, and 
 
 for Public Speakers who are obliged to study 
 
 without an Instructor. 
 
 Hitherto there has been no text-book adapted to the neces- 
 sities of the case of overloaded teachers of English. Teachers and 
 students will owe a debt of gfratitude to Prof. Raymond for the inval- 
 uable assistance he has rendered. — J. T. Murfee, Pres. Hoivard Coll. 
 
 I think it will do just the work I want done in my Freshman 
 class. — J. M. Geery, Prof. English Literature, Ripon College. 
 
 Very useful, not only as a text-book, . . . but to teachers who 
 need some guide, also to private learners. — Wis. Jour, of Education. 
 
 It is undoubtedly the most complete and thorough treatise on 
 oratory for the practical student ever published. If you cannot have 
 Raymond as an instructor get his book, and if you are a diligent 
 student you will find the Professor Hemonstratinar on evpry pas-p the 
 principles of his art almost as clearly and emphatically as in the 
 class-room. — The Educational Weekly, Chicago. 
 
 ^° The special attention of Teachers is called to the 
 suggestions in the Preface for the proper method of usmg 
 this book. 
 
THE 
 
 ORATOR'S MA]^rUAL; 
 
 A PRACTICAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL TREATISE ON 
 
 VOCAL CULTURE, EMPHASIS AND GESTURE, 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 SELECTIONS EOK DECLAMATION AND EEADING. 
 
 Designed as a Text-Book for Schools and Colleges, and for Public 
 Speakers and Readers who are obliged to study 
 
 WITHOUT AN INSTRUCTOR. 
 
 By GEORGE L. RAYMOND, L.H.D., 
 
 FOEMERLY PEOFESSOK of OKATORT and -ESTHETIC CRITICISM, AND NOW PROFESSOR 
 
 OP esthetics in PRINCETON UNIVERSITY; AUTHOR OF " ART IN 
 
 THEORY," "poetry AS A REPRESENTATIVE ART," " RHYTHM 
 
 AND HARMONY IN POETRY AND MUSIC," "THE 
 
 GENESIS OF ART FORM," ETC. 
 
 SILVER, BURDETT & CO., PUBLISHERS, 
 New York . . . BOSTON . . . Chicago. 
 

 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 Two CoDles Received 
 IAN 24 190r 
 
 ^Copyrl^ht Entry 
 CLASS Oc. XXc, No 
 COPY 3. ^ 
 
 Copyright, 1879, 
 By S. C. GRIGGS AND COMPANY. 
 
 Copyright, 1897, 
 By silver, BURDETT AND COMPANY. 
 
PEE FACE. 
 
 1. This book has been prepared to supply a want felt by the authoi 
 while giving instruction in his own classes, and felt, as he believes, 
 by many overworked teachers who often, without making a specialty 
 of elocution, desire to give efficient instruction in it, yet have no 
 manual at hand enabling them to do this, without a great expendi- 
 ture of time and trouble. It is intended to present, in concise and 
 comprehensive form, some new material, the results of the author's 
 own experience in teaching; but over and beyond this to be a com- 
 pend, amply illustrated, of the best that has been published or 
 taught on the subject of which it treats with each department of the 
 art so described that its methods shall be distinctly apprehended, 
 so explained that the principles underlying their use shall be easily 
 understood, and so few that they can be readily applied. 
 
 2. In many of its features, Oratory resembles music. A man can 
 no more declaim well who has not passed the point where he is 
 obliged to exhaust his mental energy in calculating how to modulate 
 his voice in his inflections, or to move his hands in his gestures, than 
 he can smg or play well while his attention is constantly turning 
 from his theme in order to think how he shall form his notes in 
 his throat, or use his fingers upon his instrument. Such things as 
 these, before his performance can be easy, natural, expressive and 
 eiFective, must be done automatically, as a result of persistent prac- 
 tice. So in Oratory. Certain things must be done automatically; 
 and that they may be done thus, and at the same time correctly, 
 the student must begin by practicing according to methods very 
 accurately described to him. This fact is a sufficient excuse for 
 the minute and full directions contained in this book, — those, for 
 instance, referring to the methods of using the lungs and throat, of 
 starting and ending inflections, of moving and holding the arms and 
 hands in the gestures, etc. It is thought that they will be found to 
 be of exceptional value, not only to students of elocution, but also to 
 teachers ; and though it is not supposed that they can take the place 
 of competent oral instruction, especially with those just entering 
 
 3 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 upon the study, yet they will fail of their object if they do not prove 
 to be just what are needed by clergymen and other public speakers 
 who, for any reason, are unable to obtain the services of an instructor. 
 
 3. But besides describing the elements of the art, and how to 
 acquire facility in using them, a manual of this sort must direct the 
 student when and where to use them. Elocution, like music, must 
 deal with the great subject of expression. And here the important 
 matter is to ground the principles presented not on the letter of 
 passages but on their spirit; not on the phraseology but on the 
 mind's attitude toward the phraseology, upon one's judgment of the 
 thought that it contains, upon his motive in using it, and upon 
 the degree of energy or kind of feeling which it awakens in him. 
 In proportion as these requirements are met by the directions that 
 are given him, a man may speak according to rule and yet main- 
 tain his individuality and freedom. His knowledge of the art of 
 elocution will be merely a knowledge of the art of expressing, and 
 of impressing on others, his own meanings, motives and feelings. 
 He will be a master and not a slave of the rules that he follows. 
 
 4. Once more: any number of rules all of which must be applied 
 with as little forethought as in speaking, must be few; otherwise 
 the mind will be so burdened in trying to recall them that it will not 
 be able to act readily in using them. Great pains have been taken 
 in this book, by means of classifications and diagrams, to reduce the 
 general principles that need to be emphasized to a minimum ; but at 
 the same time to make each of these so comprehensive that all of 
 them together shall include a treatment of the whole subject. 
 
 5. On this point, — in trying to devise how the art may be 
 taught and mastered with the least possible waste of time and labor, 
 the author has expended no little thought. It is impossible to refer 
 here to all the "short-cuts" that this book recommends. But as an 
 aid to teachers who have not yet matured their courses of instruction, 
 some suggestions based on his own experience and methods may not 
 prove unacceptable. 
 
 6. With a class as a whole, it seems best to begin by teaching 
 something about emphasis and gesture. The least experienced student 
 can understand why these subjects need to be studied; but, as a rule, 
 it is only after he has been led, through studying them, to realize 
 the deficiencies in his own voice that he is prepared to devote him- 
 
PREFACE. 5 
 
 self to vocal culture proper with the persistency that it demands. 
 As an introduction to the general study, therefore, the author would 
 recommend — and not only to teachers assigning lessons from this 
 book, but also to those who are studying without a teacher — the use 
 of § 201. The statements which will be found there, and which the 
 instructor may easily explain and illustrate to his pupils, present in 
 compact form about all the qualities of expression that successful 
 oratory, however characteristic of individuals, universally possesses, 
 and, by consequence, about all that it is safe to teach to a class as a 
 whole. Aside from what this section contains, most of the instruction 
 in emphasis must be given to individuals in private ; otherwise some 
 of the students, imagining themselves to be deficient in directions 
 where they are not so, may be led to exaggerate excellencies that 
 they have by nature, or to cultivate artificiality in a vain attempt to 
 avoid supposed faults. 
 
 7. In addition to learning these general principles underlying 
 emphasis, it is well also for the student, at the very beginning of his 
 course, to be made acquainted with the meaning of the different 
 gestures (§§ 172-175) each of which he should also be shown exactly 
 how to make. 
 
 8. It is after this prehminary work that we come to our first real 
 difficulty. In teaching any branch that partakes of the nature of art, 
 it is not enough to explain how and why certain things should be 
 done. The instructor or the pupil has to see to it thatihey are done. 
 In other words, the pupil must drill himself or be drilled until it 
 becomes a habit with him to do them instinctively, or until he gains 
 such control of himself as to be able to do them voluntarily. 
 
 9. In attaining this end there seems to be no course so efficient as 
 to assign, as a lesson, a marked passage (that in § 209 has been used 
 with satisfactory results, and there are twenty-five others among 
 the SELECTIONS for declamation) and have pupils declaim it in 
 private as many times as may be necessary in order to render their 
 performance satisfactory. Out of a class numbering sixty or seventy, 
 all but one or two, on their first appearance, will need to be coirected 
 on every line ; but after the third or fourth attempt hardly one will 
 have failed to acquire all that the exercise is designed to teach. 
 
 10. After this, when able to make at will the different kinds of 
 inflections, etc., it is well to have students read passages illustrative 
 
b PREFACE. 
 
 of such notes as are given in § 201 ; to declaim other passages of their 
 own selection ; to read more selected by the instructor for the pur- 
 pose of showing them their individual faults and how to correct 
 them ; and from this time forward, to copy declamations and original 
 orations on alternate lines of paper ; to mark them with appropriate 
 indications of emphasis and gesture ; to explain the marks ; to receive 
 corrections on the same ; and to declaim the pieces as many times as 
 may be necessary in order to render their performance satisfactory. 
 During their rehearsals, the attention of students will of course be 
 directed to those qualities of delivery in which, as individuals, they 
 are deficient. As for vocal culture, in large institutions, it may be 
 made optional, and comparatively few students will neglect it after 
 they have once fairly entered upon a course of instruction such as 
 has been described. 
 
 11. A word now as to the efficacy of such instruction and of such 
 methods of imparting it. Of course some will be skeptical with 
 reference to them. In fact there are many who seem to imagine 
 that the orator, like the poet, is born and not made; that his art, 
 therefore, cannot be learned, and need not be taught ; or, at least, 
 that sufficient is done toward cultivating it when young men are 
 merely required to declaim, at stated intervals, before their class- 
 mates, or are incited to exert themselves on particular occasions by 
 a system of prizes, public exhibitions or debates. Many seem to 
 think that the energy stimulated by emulation or the presence of a 
 crowd is all that is necessary to develop the powers of latent genius 
 — to burst the chrysalis of common-place and reveal the full-fledged 
 orator. Even if they be not mistaken in their general theory, do 
 they suppose that the influence of stimulus of this kind is adapted to 
 reach any very large proportion of the students? Are not the 
 majority of those w^hom it does reach incited mainly to continue to 
 repeat, and so to confirm, as habits, their own peculiar faults? 
 Is there no danger that it may induce the members of a college 
 whose oratory is cultivated only by such performances, to mistake 
 mere energy for eloquence and mere declamatory force for impress- 
 iveness ? Undoubtedly there are some effective speakers — though 
 their number is much smaller than is usually supposed — who have 
 never studied elocution. But of the majority of these it may be said 
 that if they do not belong to that unfortunate class whose delivery, 
 
PREFACE. 7 
 
 because they have never learned to modulate their voices, becomes 
 unpleasantly artificial and bombastic the moment that they become 
 excited, they usually belong to that other class, equally unfortunate, 
 whose delivery becomes dull and lifeless the moment that they 
 lose their excitement ; or as is sometimes the case, lose only the spon- 
 taneity of their utterance, because thej are fettered as they affirm, 
 by being obliged to read from a prepared manuscript. Elocution is 
 the art of speaking or reading naturally when one is excited, impress- 
 ively when not excited, and in an interesting manner at all times. 
 Its effects are the results of causes, of certain ways of using the voice, 
 which now and then a born orator may manifest under all circum- 
 stances, which many manifest when greatly interested or excited, 
 but which the majority of men never manifest at all except after they 
 have been shown what these ways are, and have acquired the art of 
 reproducing them in their own delivery. 
 
 12. How much can culture do toward bringing the two latter 
 classes up to the level of the born orator? — toward making them 
 speak and read well under all circumstances, even when there is 
 nothing extraordinary to excite or interest them? It becomes one 
 who is preparing a book to be used where the results of his own 
 instruction are present facts, and who is supposed to be speakmg 
 from his own experience, to use some reserve in answering a question 
 such as this — especially so inasmuch as the limitations which condition 
 every college department, render it inevitable that there should be 
 always some students upon whom its methods do not have their 
 perfect work. When one is expected to teach English literature, 
 esthetics and rhetoric as well as Oratory proper, as during a part of 
 the time the author has done ; or when, for other reasons, his time 
 for drill is limited, he cannot fail to be conscious of how much more 
 might be done than has been done. Enough has been done, how- 
 ever, with the nine different college classes that he has met, to 
 make him believe that it is only a question of time and patience, and 
 any person, not physically incapacitated, may be made to become an 
 interesting and attractive speaker. By this is meant that he can be 
 cured of indistinct and defective articulation, of unnatural and false 
 tones, and of awkwardness ; and be trained to have a clear, resonant 
 voice, an unaffected and forcible way of modulating it so as to have it 
 represent the sense, and a dignity and ease of bearing; all of which 
 
8 PREJ^ACE. 
 
 together shall enable him to continue to hold the attention of an 
 audience so long as it is possible for any qualities of manner aside 
 from matter to do so. It needs to be emphasized, moreover, that a 
 capacity for the very highest excellence — even for what appears to be 
 the most inborn kind of eloquence and grace — is often developed in 
 those who, at the beginning of their training, are the most unprom- 
 ising. 
 
 13. If there be any who read this and doubt these statements, 
 and who have influence among the trustees or faculties of the hun- 
 dreds of colleges in our country in which no instruction worthy to be 
 called instruction is given in this department, let them not doubt, at 
 least, that in a land like ours where so many avenues of influence 
 are open to those who can speak well in public, no institution is 
 doing its duty by the young men committed to its charge that does 
 not furnish them with such a course of training as to allow them to 
 discover — it can be put stronger th*an this — as to force them to 
 discover their aptitudes for oratory if they have any, 
 
 14. Before closing, the author wishes to express his sense of 
 indebtedness for valuable suggestions, with reference to the subjects 
 treated in this book, over and beyond what seems to be common 
 property, to S. M. Cleveland, M.D., of Philadelphia, formerly Pro- 
 fessor of Rhetoric and Oratory, in the University of Pennsylvania; 
 C. J. Plumptre, author of "Lectures on Elocution" in King's 
 College, London, and Emilio Belari, Professeur de Chant, Paris ; 
 also to the following, especially, among the many works of merit on 
 elocution that have been written in this country: "The Philosophy 
 of the Human Voice," by James Rush, M.D., "The Culture of the 
 Voice," by James E. Murdoch and William Russell ; " Reasonable 
 Elocution," by F. Taverner Graham, and the various publications of 
 Professor L. B. Monroe, of the Boston School of Oratory. 
 
 It is thought that the black letters, italics, and different kinds of 
 type and "leading" that have been liberally used in the text of this 
 work, will make it more serviceable as a manual, — enabling pro- 
 fessional men, who have no time to waste, and younger students who 
 otherwise might overlook important principles, to detect with a single 
 glance of the eye down any given page, what is the main topic of 
 which it treats and what are the chief statements, often greatly con- 
 densed, that are made concerning it. 
 
COT^TEK-TS, 
 
 VOCAL CULTURE. 
 
 General Directions how to use the organs — Nostrils §1, 
 Abdomen § 2, Mouth § 3; how to form the Vowels § 4. 
 Table showing Vowel-Sounds § 5; how to form Consonants 
 and Consonant- Combinations § 6 13 
 
 Exercises for Practice ; Positions, Active and Passive 
 Chest, Waist, Arm, Neck and Throat Movements § 7; 
 Breathing § 8; Vocal Cords § 9; Elementary Vowel- Sounds 
 § 10; Consonant-Sounds § 11; Exercises for Advanced 
 Scholars in Vowels, Consonants, Pitch, Time, Force and 
 Stress §§ 12-16 23 
 
 EMPHASIS. 
 General Principle § 18; Antithetic, Transferred, Associative 
 
 Emphasis, and by Attraction and Personation, §§ 19-23; 
 
 Reading the Bible § 24; how to determine Emphasis § 25 - 31 
 Elements of Emphasis as derived from Accentuation and 
 
 Rhythm §§ 26-28; Classification of the Elements §§ 29-31; 
 
 their Significance § 32; the Method of Studying them - 34 
 
 TIME. 
 
 Elocutionary Pauses § 35 ; Quantity § 39; Movement § 40; 
 
 the didactic, detailed, strange, etc. §41; Quotations, Illus- 
 trations, Parentheses, etc. - - -- - - -41 
 
 PITCH. 
 
 Inflections — Emphatic Slides, Significance of, §43; method 
 of giving, § 45; length of, § 46; Chart showing use of Rising 
 and Falling Inflections § 47; showing Motives, not Phraseol- 
 ogy, as the criterion of their use § 53 ; Chart of Contrasted 
 Motives with same Phraseology § 63 -. of Circumflex Inflec- 
 tions § 67; Starting Key of Slide or Slide Balance § 75 - 47 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 Melody, Emphatic Slides as related to, § 79— the Cadence §83; 
 the Climax § 83; Melody appropriate for different parts of 
 an Oration § 85; Unemphatic Slides as related to Melody — 
 Discrete and Concrete Tones § 86; Diatonic and Semitonic 
 Melody § 88; Varied and Unvaried Melody in Mirth, Aston- 
 ishment, Adoration, Contrition, Horror, etc., §92; Monotone 
 §93; Poetic Monotone §95 63 
 
 Key .... 74 
 
 FORCE. 
 
 Special Force § 98; Stress § 99; Initial § 100; Terminal 
 § 101; Median § 102; Compound § 103; Thorough §104; 
 Tremulous § 105 75 
 
 General Force — Abrupt, loud and soft § 107; Smooth, loud 
 and soft § 108; Sustained, explosive, expulsive and effusive 
 §109; Natural, explosive,' expulsive and effusive §113; Sup- 
 pressed, explosive, expulsive and effusive § 117 - - - 85 
 
 VOLUME. 
 
 Special Volume § 121; Quality § 122; Aspirate § 123; Gut- 
 tural §125; Pectoral §128; Pure § 131; Orotund § 135; 
 Nasal and Oral, § 138 93 
 
 ELEMENTS OP EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION. 
 
 Chart § 140; Representative Combinations § 141; Regular 
 Combinations § 142; Irregular Combinations § 145; Transi- 
 tions and Modulation § 147; Massing or Grouping, the 
 Emphatic Tye, § 152; Drift § 154 . . - . . 106 
 
 GESTURE. 
 
 Positions, when not gesticulating, of Head and Trunk, Hands 
 and Arms, Feet and Legs 125 
 
 Objective Gestures — Head and Trunk, the Bow, §165; 
 Hands and Arms § 166; Significance of Movements, up- 
 ward, downward, and about the body, § 168; of the Opening 
 Hand § 171; of Closing Hand § 172; of Finger and Fist 
 § 173; of Double.Gestures § 174. Chart showing Significance 
 of Gestures § 175. Methods of forming Gestures, Illustrations, 
 § 176; Movements Preparatory for Gestures and their Sig- 
 nificance § 180; Return and Combinations of Gestures § 187; 
 Examples for Practice § 192 128 
 
 The Countenance — Eye, Forehead, Nose, Lips, etc. ; Comic 
 Effects 146 
 
 Subjective Gestures — Chart of Dramatic Gestures ■= -149 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 11 
 
 SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 
 
 Recapitulation of Elementary Principles § 201; Meaning of 
 Marks § 202; Directions, Preliminary Exercise in Declama- 
 tion, § 209 151 
 
 VEHEMENT, VIGOROUS AND APPELLATORY SELECTIONS. 
 
 Assertive, Positive Style: Mainly Downward Inflections, i 
 *Reply to Mr. Flood .... Henry Grattan, 
 Reply to the Duke of Grafton - - Lord Thurloiv, 
 
 *Parliamentary Reform - - . . Lord Broughmn, 
 *0n the Irish Disturbance Bill - - Daniel O'Connell, 
 *Employment of Indians in the American War Earl of Chatham, 
 
 Consequences of the American War - Earl of Chatham, 
 
 *The Condition of Ireland - - - T. F. Meagher, 
 
 Against Curtailing the Right of Suffrage Victor Hugo, 
 
 Resistance to British Aggression - - Patrick Henry, 
 
 *The War Inevitable, March, 1775 - - Patrick Henry, 
 
 *The Declaration of Independence - - Daniel Webster, 
 
 *Northem Laborers - - - - C. Naylor, 
 
 The American Sailor - - - - R. F. Stockton, 
 
 Ambition of a Statesman ... Henry Clay, 
 
 Rienzi's Address to the Romans - - Mary E. Mitford, 
 
 The Seminole's Defiance - - - G.W. Patten, 
 
 Civil War the Greatest National Evil, 1829 Lord Palmerston, 
 
 Union with Great Britain, 1800 - - Henry Grattan, 
 
 Reply to Lord North, 1774 - - - Col. Barre, 
 
 Enmity Toward Great Britain - - Rufus Choate, 
 
 The South during the Revolution, 1830 - Robert Y. Hayne, 
 
 South Carolina and Massachusetts, 1830 - Daniel Webster, 
 
 Military Supremacy Dangerous to Liberty Henry Clay, 
 
 Oontroversial, Interrogative Style: Frequent Rising- 
 Inflections, § 212. 
 
 *The Expunging Resolution, 1837 
 On the Judiciary Act 
 Against the Embargo, 1808 
 Cicero Against Verres 
 *British Influence, 181 ^ - 
 Irish Agitators . . - 
 
 211. 
 
 158 
 160 
 161 
 163 
 164 
 165 
 167 
 168 
 170 
 172 
 173 
 175 
 176 
 178 
 179 
 181 
 181 
 183 
 184 
 186 
 188 
 189 
 191 
 
 Henry Clay, 192 
 
 Oouv. Morris, 194 
 
 Josiah Quincy, 195 
 Marcus T. Cicero, 196 
 
 John Randolph, 198 
 
 Richard L. Sheil, 200 
 
 Military Qualifications Distinct from Civil , 1828 John Sergeant, 201 
 * Marked for Emphasis and Gesture. 
 
12 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Antithetical and Ironical Style: Circumflex Inflections, 
 
 *The Right to Tax America - 
 *The Partition of Poland 
 *Catiline to the Gallic Conspirators 
 *Catiline's Defiance 
 Reply to Mr. Corry 
 Our Relations to England, 1824 
 *Rolla's Address to the Peruvians 
 Caesar Passing the Rubicon 
 
 Edmund Burke, 
 Charles J. Fox, 
 Rev. G. Croly, 
 Rev. G. Croly, 
 Henry Grattan, 
 Edward Everett, 
 R. B. Sheridan, 
 J, S. Knowles, 
 
 Graphic, 
 
 Delineative Style: Anecdotes and their 
 Applications, § 214. 
 
 *The Last Charge of Ney - - - J. T. Headley, 
 
 Regulus to the Carthaginians - - - E. Kellogg, 
 
 Spartacus to the Gladiators - - - E. Kellogg, 
 Spartacus to the Roman Envoys 
 
 Marullus to the Roman Populace - - Shakspeare, 
 
 William Tell on Switzerland - - - J. S. Knowles, 
 
 William Tell Among the Mountains - J. S. Knowles, 
 
 *Dangerous Legislation, 1849 - - - J. McDowell, 
 
 Public Opinion and the Sword - - T. B. Macaulay, 
 
 A Reminiscence of Lexington - - Theodore Parker, 
 
 Irish Grievances Richard L. Shell, 
 
 Elaborative Style: The Climax, §215. 
 
 *Examples for Ireland - - - - T. F. Meagher, 
 
 Great Britain and America - - - Newman Hall, 
 
 The Cause of Temperance - - . John B. Gough, 
 
 Duty of America to Greece ... Henry Clay, 
 
 213. 
 203 
 204 
 205 
 207 
 209 
 211 
 212 
 313 
 
 214 
 216 
 219 
 222 
 224 
 225 
 226 
 226 
 229 
 230 
 232 
 
 233 
 
 235 
 237 
 239 
 
 ANIMATED AND EXPOSITORY SELECTIONS. 
 Explanatory and Categorical, § 217. 
 
 *Small Beginnings of Great Hist'l Movements G. S. Hillard, 241 
 
 In Behalf of Starving Ireland - - S. S. Prentiss, 243 
 
 Danger of the Spirit of Conquest - - Thomas Corivin, 244 
 
 Hamlet's Instructions . - - - Shakspeare, 246 
 
 Demonstrative and Diffusive, § 218. 
 
 *Ignorance in our Country a Crime - Horace Mann, 247 
 
 Character of Washington ... Charles Phillips, 249 
 
 Destiny of America ... - Charles Phillips, 250 
 
 Eulogy on Lafayette . = . . Edward Everett, 251 
 
 Marked for Emphasis and Gesture. 
 
COKTEKTS. 
 
 13 
 
 The True Kings of the Earth - - - John Buskin, 253 
 
 The American Flag - - - - J. R. Drake, 254 
 
 Look Aloft J. Lawrence, 256 
 
 Fall of Warsaw Thomas Campbell, 256 
 
 Illustrative Style: References to Man and Nature, §219. 
 
 *Sufferings and Destiny of the Pilgrims - Edward Everett, 258 
 
 Nations and Humanity - - - - George W. Curtis, 260 
 
 An Appeal to the People - - - John Bright, 262 
 
 DIGNIFIED AND GRAVE. 
 
 *Galileo Galilei 
 Crime its own Detector - 
 Adams and Jefferson 
 Death of Copernicus 
 Speech of Vindication 
 Death of John Q. Adams 
 
 Edward Everett, 
 Daniel Webster, 
 Edward Everett, 
 Edward Everett, 
 Robert Emmett, 
 I. E. Holmes, 
 
 DRAMATIC AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 Fast Movement, § 222. 
 
 Lochinvar's Ride Sir Walter Scott, 
 
 How they Brought the Good News from Ghent, Robert Browning, 
 Moderately Past Movement, § 223, 
 
 263 
 265 
 266 
 
 268 
 269 
 271 
 
 273 
 
 274 
 
 The Battle of Ivry 
 
 The Burial March of Dundee - 
 Marmion and Douglas - - - - 
 The Song of the Camp - - - - 
 
 Moderate Movement, 
 The Wreck of the Hesperus - 
 Marco Bozzaris ..-..» 
 The Launching of the Ship 
 Three Days in the Life of Columbus 
 
 T. B. Macaulay, 276 
 Wm. E. Aytoun, 277 
 Sir Walter Scott, 280 
 Batjard Taijlor, 283 
 224. 
 
 H.W. Longfellow, 2S3 
 FitzG. Halleck, 286 
 H.W. Longfellow, 2S1 
 
 Delavigne, 
 
 Moderately Slow Movement, § 225. 
 
 The Baron's Last Banquet 
 Horatius at the Bridge - 
 The Sailor Boy's Dream - 
 The Relief of Lucknow - 
 Charge of the Light Brigade - 
 The Bugle Song - 
 The Dying Christian to his Soul 
 The Burial of Moses 
 
 A. G. Greene, 
 T. B. Macaulay, 
 Dimond, 
 Robert Lowell, 
 Alfred Tennyson, 
 Alfred Tennyson, 
 Alexander Pope, 
 Mrs. Alexander, 
 
 289 
 
 291 
 292 
 294 
 296 
 298 
 299 
 800 
 300 
 
 Marked for Emphasis and Gesture. 
 
14 
 
 COKTEN^TS. 
 
 Slow Movement: Descriptions of Natural Scenery, §226. 
 
 *The Sky, John Buskin, 301 
 
 Avalanches of Jungfrau Alp, - - - G. B. Cheever, 303 
 
 The First View of the Heavens, - - 0. M. Mitchel, 305 
 
 *Chamouny, Samuel T. Coleridge, 306 
 
 Thanatopsis, William C. Bryant, 308 
 
 HUMOROUS. 
 
 Hobbies, T.DeWitt Talmage, ^11 
 
 The Bachelor's Soliloquy, - - , 312 
 
 Miss Maloney on the Chinese Question, - Scribners Monthly, 313 
 
 Brother Watkins, John B. Gough, 315 
 
 A Catastrophe, . . - - . ^ 316 
 
 Buzfuz versus Pickwick, - - - - Charles Dickens, 317 
 
 Speech of M. Hector De Longuebeau, - T. Mosely, 321 
 
 Caudle has been Made a Mason, - - Douglas Jerrold, 322 
 
 The Jester Condemned, - - - - Horace Smith, 323 
 
 A Modest Wit, Anonymous, 324 
 
 The Shadow on the Blind, - - , 326 
 
 The March to Moscow, - - - - Robert Southey, 328 
 
 History of John Day, - - - - Thomas Hood, 330 
 
 Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog, - - Oliver Goldsmith, 332 
 
 Truth in Parentheses, - - - - Thomas Hood, 333 
 
 PATHETIC. 
 
 The Leper, N. P. Willis, 334 
 
 The Bridge of Sighs, - . - . Thomas Hood, 337 
 
 David's Lament for Absalom, - - - N. P. Willis, 340 
 
 * Marked for Emphasis. 
 
ORATOR'S MANUAL. 
 
 VOOAL CULTUEE. 
 
 GENERAL DIRECTIONS HOW TO USE THE ORGANS WHILE 
 BREATHING, VOCALIZING AND ARTICULATING. 
 
 1. When not prevented by catarrh, other nasal obstruc- 
 tions, or the requirements of rapid speaking, inhale 
 through the nostrils. 
 
 a. These icarm and filter the air, and thus prevent it from either 
 chilling or irritating the vocal passages and so causing huskiness. 
 
 2. Always draw the air into the lungs by making the 
 
 abdomen press forward, and force the air out, whether 
 
 vocalized or not, by contracting the abdomen, or making it 
 
 sink in. 
 
 a. Under the breathing and over the digestive organs, separat- 
 ing the two, is the diaphragm, the muscles of which are so formed 
 as to act in the lungs hke a piston in a pump's cylinder. These are 
 the only muscles in the body so made and placed as to draw into the 
 lungs all the air possible; or to force it out of them in such a way 
 as to produce the most powerful and effective sounds. When this 
 diaphragm sinks, to draw in the air, it crowds down the abdomen 
 and pushes it outward. When the diaphragm rises, to force out the 
 air, it contracts and draws m the abdomen. Babes and strong men 
 breath and speak thus, naturally. Weak- persons, and those who 
 sit or stoop much, acquire a habit of using mainly the muscles of the 
 upper chest, the lifting of which, in order to inhale, draws the abdo- 
 men in, and the dropping of which, in order to exhale, forces the 
 abdomen out. This habit iveakens the loiver lungs, by keeping one 
 from using them. It iveakens, also, the upper lungs, by employ- 
 
 15 
 
16 orator's manual. 
 
 ing- them for a purpose for wnich they are not fitted. Besides this, 
 as it does not expel the air from the bottom of the lungs, it lessens 
 the quantity of breath used in vocalizing ; and also, as the chest, 
 while one is speaking thus, contracts the upper bronchial tubes, 
 which otherwise would expand and vibrate during the utterance, it 
 lessens the resonance of the tones. 
 
 "b. The proper order in deep breathing is to expand first the 
 abdomen, i. e. the front, and at the same time the sides and back 
 of the waist, then the lower ribs at the sides, then the upper chest; 
 and in exhaling, to contract first the abdomen and waist, then the 
 lower ribs at the sides, and last, the chest. This will be acquired 
 through the exercises in § 8. 
 
 c. To acquire the use of the diaphragm in vocalizing , after inhal- 
 ing, draw in the abdomen suddenly, by an act of will, and at the 
 same time gently cough out hoo-ho-haiv or hah, as in the exer- 
 cise in § 10. After a few days the contraction of the abdomen, 
 which at first is merely produced at the same time as the vocal utter- 
 ance, will come to be the cause that produces it. 
 
 3. Always mould or articulate vowels and consonants 
 as near the lips and as far from the throat as possible. 
 
 a. The passages of the nose, and of the throat near to the vocal 
 cords, are designed to act on the voice mainly as a bell's cavity, 
 to throw the tones forward, or give them resonance. When they 
 share in the contraction of the muscles that takes place in articu- 
 lating, the strength and sweetness of the voice, as well as the 
 health of these passages, is impaired. In acquiring the proper use 
 of these organs, the first thing is to get the muscles in the back 
 part of the mouth in the habit of expanding to let the sounds come 
 forward. Hence the silent muscular exercises — those of coughing, 
 yawning, gasping, sobbing and laughing — and the continued prac- 
 tice (which must be attempted many times before even the sounds 
 can be produced properly) of the elementary vowel sounds of oh, 
 aw and ah, recommended in §§ 7-10. 
 
 ^^W What has been said of the nature and functions of the organs 
 used in producing words will be found to contain, in concise form, all 
 that the ordinary student of elocution needs to know for practical 
 purposes, i. e. to enable him to understand the general reasons 
 underlying the methods prescribed in the exercises §§ 7-15. Those 
 who wish to study these subjects theoretically and thoroughly will 
 of course consult some good anatomy. 
 
YOWEL SOUKDS. 17 
 
 4. When one's articulation is defective, lie should find 
 out what letters or combinations of letters represent the 
 sounds that he fails to give, and learn how to adjust the 
 organs of his mouth so as to frame these letters properly. 
 For the benefit of such the following directions are inserted. 
 Comparatively few will be obliged to study them. 
 
 Vowels. 
 
 a in ah. Draw in the breath as if about to yawn; then with the 
 teeth about three-fourths of an inch apart, lips drawn back from 
 them, mouth open laterally at the back, tongue drawn down with 
 its middle's side-edges slightly curled up, throw forward the tone, 
 forming the sound just forward of the palate. {See, also, § 10.) 
 
 a in all. Same as above. With the lips less drawn back, lower 
 jaw pushed forward a little, tongue relaxed in lower part of mouth, 
 its tip touching lower teeth, form the sound just under the palate. 
 (See^lO.) 
 
 a in at. Draw in the breath naturally, then same as last. With 
 the center of the tongue more elevated and its side-edges up, form 
 the sound in front of palate. 
 
 a in ale. Same. With mouth less open and the center of the 
 tongue more elevated, its side-edges touching the upper back teeth, 
 form the sound bet^X^een these. 
 
 e in eve. With the upper and lower teeth near (not touching) 
 each other, lower jaw slightly projecting, lips apart and sides of the 
 mouth drawn slightly back, showing the eye-teeth, tongue against 
 upper back teeth, its tip almost touching the roof of the mouth 
 just back of the upper front inside gums, form the sound between 
 the tip of the tongue and the roof of the mouth just back of the 
 upper eye-teeth. 
 
 e in end. Same position as in a in ale, but uttered more rapidly 
 and with the tip of the tongue slightly lower down. 
 
 e in her. Same position as in the last, except that the tongue is 
 curled up against the roof of the mouth about one quarter of an 
 inch back of the upper front teeth. The final r is then formed by 
 pushing the tip of the tongue against the roof of the mouth, leaving 
 a small space between the two. 
 
 i in it. Same position as in e in eve, but uttered more rapidly, 
 with the front of the tongue slightly lower down. 
 
 i in ice. Begin with the position of a in ah, and pass at once to 
 that of i in it. 
 
 o in no._ With the teeth apart as in ah, but the lips pushed over 
 them, forming an oval in front, the cheeks slightly drawn in, the 
 lower jaw thrust forward, and the tongue drawn back, form the 
 sound just behind the upper and lower front gums. 
 
 o in on. Same position as in a in ah, but uttered more rapidly. 
 (5.. §5.) 
 
 1* 
 
18 
 
 ORATOR S MAIn'UAL. 
 
 00 in took and ooze. Take the position of o in no, then push the 
 lips nearer together and farther forward in hook, and still farther 
 forward in ooze. The sound in both cases is made between the lips. 
 
 oi in oil. Begin with the position of a in all, and pass at once 
 to that of i in in. 
 
 ou in our. Begin with the position of o in on, and pass at once 
 to that of 00 in ooze. 
 
 u in up. With the teeth as near together as in e in eve, the lips 
 apart in a natural position, the tongue relaxed and full, its tip 
 against the lower front teeth, make the sound just under the uvula, 
 by a slight forward movement of the lower jaw. 
 
 XL in use. Begin with the position of e in eve, and pass at once 
 to that of 00. 
 
 u in bull. Same as oo in look shortened. 
 
 a, e, i, o, u, y, aw, ew, ow, in ani/, they, marine, fir, son, 
 wolf, or, rude, my, very, law, few, now, represent respectively the 
 same sounds as are in end, ale, eve, her, up, hull, all, ooze, ice, in, 
 all, use, our. 
 
 The following table has been arranged so as to show, when read 
 up and down, how the vowel sounds apf)roach each other, but chiefly 
 to bring out another important fact, which, strangely enough to one 
 who considers how much the position of the tongue has to do with the 
 vowel sounds, seems hitherto to have been almost entirely overlooked. 
 
 5. Table sho^wing Vowel Sounds, and how they 
 
 are modLlied by consonant sounds that follow them: 
 
 In each line below, when read across the page, the vowel sound 
 is the same, hut, whenever one pronounces it quickly and naturally, 
 the consonant following it changes the position of the tongue, so 
 that, instinctively and necessarily, this is 
 
 1 2 3 
 
 Am. 
 Phil. 
 Soc. 
 Phon. 
 Rep. 
 
 Single 
 Vowel 
 Sounds. 
 
 Drawn up 
 
 against the 
 
 mouth's roof, 
 
 thickened 
 
 behind and 
 
 contracted, thus 
 
 closing the back 
 
 of the mouth. 
 
 Curled up 
 slightly, 
 lengthened, flat- 
 tened behind 
 and loosened, 
 thus opening the 
 back of 
 the mouth. 
 
 Brought forward 
 still more, and flat- 
 tened behind, thus 
 still more opening 
 the back of the 
 mouth. 
 
 li, 
 
 5y, 
 
 it 
 
 in 
 
 spirit 
 
 quill 
 
 quiz 
 
 rhythm 
 
 Ee, 
 
 §, 
 
 met 
 
 men 
 
 merit 
 
 mellow 
 
 essence 
 
 death 
 
 A a, 
 
 a. 
 
 fat 
 
 fan 
 
 fare 
 
 fallow 
 
 ask* 
 
 bath* 
 
 a a, 
 
 a 6, 
 
 what 
 
 pond 
 
 far* 
 
 folly 
 
 oscillate 
 
 father* 
 
 0e, 
 
 ao au, 
 
 God 
 
 dawn 
 
 or 
 
 all 
 
 exhaust 
 
 author 
 
 Oo, 
 
 s, 
 
 boat 
 
 bone 
 
 bore 
 
 bowl 
 
 gross 
 
 loathe 
 
 U 0, 
 
 eSii, 
 
 but 
 
 bun 
 
 bur* 
 
 bulb 
 
 buzz 
 
 mother 
 
 Uu, 
 
 00 u, 
 
 put 
 
 book 
 
 wool 
 
 pull 
 
 puss 
 
 butcher 
 
 
 uoo, 
 
 moot 
 
 moon 
 
 poor 
 
 pool 
 
 loose 
 
 booth 
 
 * Those who are manufacturing ])honetic alphabets should notice that the 
 peculiar sound of the vowel that distinguishes ask and bath from fat, far and 
 
COA'SOKAKT SOUNDS. 
 
 19 
 
 meet 
 
 mean 
 
 mere 
 
 meal 
 
 knees 
 
 breathe 
 
 late 
 
 lain 
 
 layer 
 
 flail 
 
 lays • 
 
 lathe 
 
 fight 
 
 fine 
 
 fire 
 
 file 
 
 rise 
 
 writhe 
 
 out 
 
 town 
 
 our 
 
 owl 
 
 browse 
 
 mouthing 
 
 adroit 
 
 loin 
 
 
 boil 
 
 poise 
 
 
 patriot 
 
 minion 
 
 familiar 
 
 genial 
 
 fractious 
 
 
 refute 
 
 impugn 
 
 pure 
 
 mule 
 
 music 
 
 
 
 Consonants. 
 
 
 
 
 Double vowel sounds: 
 
 I fe (i e), ea ee, 
 6 a (e a), aaiay, 
 I i (a i), i ie y, 
 QU QU, ou ow, 
 OI ei, 01 oy, 
 lU io, iaioiu, 
 ij ii (i u), u eu, 
 
 6, These are divided into siib-vocals, which are all uttered with a 
 murmuring sound which one should learn to prolong: and make loud; 
 and aspirates, which are produced by a current of the whispering 
 breath, forced through certain positions of the lips, tongue or palate. 
 
 I. Siib-vocals that have no corresponding Aspirates. 
 a. In these, the breath passes through the nostrils: 
 The lips are closed in m in 7noon. 
 
 The lips are open in n in noon, and the tongue's tip touches 
 upper inside front gums. 
 
 The lips are open in ng in aiiguish, and the tongue's middle 
 touches the palate. 
 
 h. In these, the breath passes through the 7nouth: 
 
 The tip of the tongue in 1 in divell touches the mouth's roof just 
 behind the upper inside front gums, and the breath passes around 
 the tip at either side of the tongue. 
 
 The tip of the tongue in y in your is down, its sides touch the 
 upper side teeth, and the breath passes between its middle and the 
 palate. 
 
 The sides of the tongue in r in row touch the upper side teeth, 
 the tip is turned upward and backward, and the breath passes be- 
 tween it and a point in the mouth's roof about half an inch behind 
 the gums. 
 
 The tongue in r in core is slightly farther forward. 
 
 II. Sub-vocals, with their corresponding Aspirates. 
 
 a. In these the breath is checked and confined till the organs 
 separate to give it explosive vent. This separation is in the 
 
 father from ivhat. and bur from but, depends on the following consonant, and 
 therefore needs no separate vowel representative. Ask and bath are to fat as 
 quiz and rhythm to it. buzz and mother to but, -puss and butcher to put. browse and 
 mouthing to out; so between /a^A^r and what the difference is no greater than 
 between aiithm' and God. or moutliing and out; and bur is to but as far to what, 
 poor to moot, mere to meet. 
 
 * The movements of the tongue in pronouncing all these will show that there 
 is a double action of the vocal organs, but the second or vanishing sound is dis- 
 tinctly recognized only when it is one that might be represented by some form of 
 i or u. wliich two stand at the extremes of the regularly graded series, i, e, a, o. u ; 
 so the laet vowels iu music {m) and fractious (iu) are more distinct than in lain 
 (ea) a.nd piece (ie). 
 
20 orator's manual. 
 
 Sitb-vocaJs ) but ( Aspirates 
 preceded by V in ■< preceded by 
 vocalization. ) the ( no vocalization. 
 
 In b bab and p pap the lips join. 
 
 In V van and f fan the lower lip touches the upper 
 
 teeth. 
 In d dole and t toll the tongue's tip touches the upper 
 ' ^ _ inside front gums. 
 
 In j jar and cb. char the tongue's tip touches the mouth's 
 
 roof just behind upper inside 
 
 front gums. 
 In g gay and k kay the tongue's middle touches the 
 
 corresponding palate. 
 b. In these the breath is allowed to escape gradually between 
 the organs mentioned : 
 
 Suh-vocals Aspirates 
 
 accompanied unaccompanied 
 
 with vocalization. with vocalization. 
 
 In w way and wh whey between the lips pushed forward. 
 In til this and th. thistle between the tongue's tip and the 
 
 teeth. 
 In z zone and s sown between the tongue's tip and upper 
 
 inside front gums. 
 In z azure and sh. sure between the tongue's tip and roof 
 
 of mouth behind gums. 
 In h hah between the tongue's middle and 
 
 palate. 
 
 III. Notice also that the position of the lips and tongue is the 
 same in m, b and p: n, d and t: and ng, g and h. (See Exercise, 
 § 11.) 
 
 Consonant Combinations. 
 
 In practicing upon the consonants it is better to repeat over 
 the separate consonants or combinations of consonants than the 
 whole words m which they are found. Otherwise there is danger 
 that the articulation, instead of becoming proper, will become jpre- 
 cise, — one of the worst of faults. 
 
 Most persons will not need any more exercises upon the conso- 
 nants than those in §§ 11, 12. But when articulation is particularly 
 defective in connection with certain letters or combinations of letters, 
 it may be found advantageous to practice over such of the following 
 exercises as contain them. 
 
 m in gum, blame, realm, calm, phlegm, moment, mammon, 
 tempter, monumentary, matrimony, — He was most mindful of that 
 mysterious melancholy— The moment he came home he mounted 
 the mule — The mutterings of the maddened communists made music 
 for me. 
 
 n in noun, nine, stolen, swollen, barn, mown, name, gnarl, de- 
 sign, banner, frozen, reason, heathen, shapen, Briton, deaden, non- 
 
CONSOis^ANT COMBIK"ATIOKS. 21 
 
 entity, unanimous, an ice, a nice, an ocean, a notion, an oyster, an 
 uncle, an aunt, a niece, an ink-bottle, a numbskull, — When light- 
 ning and dread thunder rend stubborn rocks asunder, and mon- 
 archs die with wonder — What news do you know? 
 
 ng in gang, king, length, bank, being, bringing, robin, robbing, 
 chapping, chopping, anguish, concourse, banquet, anxiety, reading, 
 writing, dancmg and singing, — Being all deserving of strong con- 
 sideration. 
 
 1 in all, marl, earl, love, isle, loins, lively, lovely, helm, castle, 
 axle, grovel, able, liberty, looming, — We cast one longing, lingering 
 look behind —Explain, exclaim and explode — The heavily-laden load 
 loomed up. 
 
 y in yawn, yell, he, hear, ye, year, you, use, youthful, useful, 
 million, Asia, studios, — Also n in duke, tune, new, Tuesday, — The 
 new tune suits the duke — Youth with ill-humor is odious. 
 
 r in raw, wrap, fry, bray, pray, grope, dray, tray, shrill, shriek, 
 throw, raiment, rampart, wrestle, christian, rural, around, erect, 
 rebel, dreading, dredging, memorandum, remuneration, repetition, — 
 The grunting groom groaned grossly ai; the glittering robe — Ap- 
 proach thou like the rugged Russian bear — The armed rhinoceros 
 — Rend with tremendous sound your ears asunder, with gun, drum, 
 trumpet, blunderbus and thunder, 
 
 r in fir, cur, nor, bur, err, hire, core, pure, terse, force, marsh, 
 scarf, dark, card, garb, learn, pearl, hearth, swerve, pardon, mercy, 
 virtue, mortgage, commerce, debar, appear, expire, demure, — What 
 man dare I dare — I hear thee near, I start and fear, 
 
 b in bab, barb, babe, bib, bulb, embark, babboon, abrogate, 
 fabulous, ebony, liberty, barbarous, barbican. 
 
 p in pap, pate, pet, pipe, pope, pippin, proper, topple, puritan, 
 papacy, populous. 
 
 b and p in Where boundless rest that borders boundless love 
 abides in bliss of bounty absolute — The north-sea bubble put the 
 public in a hubbub — Here piles of pins extend their shining rows, 
 puffs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux — Abuse the city's best 
 good men in meter, and laugh at peers that put their trust in Peter. 
 
 V or ph, f, in vat. vain, pave, weave, hive, void, ravel, heaven, 
 even, given, vivid, votive, Stephen, twelve, of. 
 
 f or ph., gh, in far, for, fry, deaf, calf, laugh, tough, phrase, 
 phial, profit, deafen, roughen, soften, epitaph, phaeton, phonetic. 
 
 V and f in The vile vagabond ventured to vilify the venerable 
 voter — Down in the vale where the leaves of the grove wave over 
 the graves — He filled the draught and freely quaffed, and puffed the 
 fragrant fume and laughed — The flaming fire flashed full in his face. 
 
 d in dad, did, dead, aid, made, longed, hedged, saved, writhed, 
 ■walled, ebbed, damaared, modest, pedant, udder, deadly, adjourned. 
 
 t in tat, tight, debt, laced, danced, chafed, laughed, wrecked, 
 matter, totter, titter, testament, titillate, destitute, taciturn, testator, 
 attainment, intestate. 
 
 d and t in Down in the deep dungeon he did delve — He dis- 
 cor'3red naught but deserts and des^pair — And of those demons that 
 are found in fire, air, flood, or under ground — To inhabit a mansion 
 
22 orator's mai^ual. 
 
 remote from the clatter of swift prancing- steeds — A tell-tale, tat- 
 tling, termagant that troubles all the town — He talked and stamped 
 and chafed till all were shocked. 
 
 j in jam, gem, gin, June, joke, judge, jot, jut, Julius, disgorge, 
 allege, jolly, jogged, regiment, — This generous jolting gave us gen- 
 eral joy — Jaded he joked and jumped a jig — The jailbird nudged 
 the jovial judge, then jerked away. 
 
 cli in chat, chant, latch, itch, choose, chaplain, charmer, check- 
 mate, chirping, — The chosen church a changeless challenge made — 
 The wretch chastised would fetch the matches. 
 
 g hard in gag, Qgg, gig, gog, good, guide, ragged, cragged, 
 gimlet, ghast'y. 
 
 k (or c, ch, qu) in car, cake, coke, keen, chord, quay, clear, 
 comic, conquer, collocate, calico, cucumber, vaccinate, — He gave a 
 guinea and he got a groat — A giddy, giggling girl her kind folks 
 plague, her manners vulgar and her converse vague — A black coat 
 of curious qu ility — With the cold caution of a coward's spleen, which 
 fears not guilt, but always craves a screen — The expectant will exe- 
 crate this exceedingly expensive expedition — He will accept the 
 command except of the navy, and expects to come back a conqueror. 
 
 "w in way, one, woo (who), wain (vane), wine (vine), wood, woos 
 (ooze, whose), swoon, quake, choir, thwart, forward, wormwood, 
 quorum, froward. 
 
 wh in what, why, while, whether, whim, whom, whifHe, where- 
 withal, whithersoever, whales (wales), whirlwind, — A wight well 
 versed in. waggery — We wandered where the way wound through 
 the winding wood — When wheels whizz whirring round, and whirl- 
 winds whistling sound — While the white swelling tide is turned 
 aside. 
 
 th. in booth, with, wreath, bathe, oaths, breathe, tithe, these, 
 those, their, either, heathen, northern, father, hither, thither, in- 
 wreathe. 
 
 th in bath, path, oath, mouth, width, truths, thwart, thesis, 
 hundredth, amethyst, mathematics, orthodox. 
 
 th. in Throuo-h the smooth paths — They wreathe about the 
 thicket — Thrust three thousand thistles through the thick of his 
 thumb — From nature's chain whatever link you strike, tenth or ten- 
 thousandth, breaks the chain alike. 
 
 z in blaze, as, is, was, views, moves, baths, bathes, balls, pains, 
 commas, prizes, houses, scissors, brazen, cousin, puzzle, observes, 
 exert, exempt, sacrifice, mechanism, anxiety. 
 
 s in mass, dose, laughs, mouths, verse, dupes, packs, lax, hosts, 
 fists, soil, cell, scene, schism, apsis, thesis, schedule, preside, desists, 
 design, dissuade, vaccinate, — The prices of his dramas render the 
 disposal of them, as is usually his usage, easy — When Ajax strives 
 some rock's vast weight to throw — He bares his fists with strangest 
 boasts, and still insists he sees the ghosts. 
 
 z in azure, leisure, treasure. 
 
 sh in ash, shore, marsh, sure, sugar, censure, pension, nation, 
 showy, luxury, crucifixion, adventitious — The shade he sought and 
 shunned the sunshine — The weak-eyed bat with short, shrill shriek 
 
EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 23 
 
 flits by on leathern wing — The string let fly twanged short and 
 sharp like the shrill swallow's cry. 
 
 EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 At first practice only § 7: e; §§8 and 10. 
 
 7. Stand erect with shoulders back; look straight ahead; hold chin 
 in; rest on one leg, with both straight, and feet four inches apart, so 
 placed that a straight line drawn through one foot from toe to heel 
 will pass through the heel of the other. (See §§ 156-162). 
 
 a. Alternating" Passive and Active Chest. — Without 
 breathing or moving shoulders, repeatedly lift the chest from that 
 which is its ordinary (passive) condition to the slightly raised and 
 expanded (active) condition in which the shoulders seem to be back 
 and do^vn. When practicing the vocal exercises always hold the 
 chest in this active position. 
 
 b. Waist Movements. — Bend the body backward and forward, 
 from side to side, and. without moving the hips, twist it, i.e. turn 
 shoulders from side to side. 
 
 c. Arm Movements. — After acquiring the mode of breathing 
 (see § 8)- 
 
 I. Do the following, all slowly and gently: While filling the 
 chest lift the arms (without bending elbows) outward till the two 
 together form a straight line parallel to the floor. When chest is 
 filled, strike it gently with the hands; alternately move the arms 
 slowly about the chest upward and downward, and backward and 
 forward; hold the arms up. and, bending the elbows, alternately ele- 
 vate the hands and touch the cheeks with the backs of the fingers. 
 
 II. Do the following vigorously: Draw back the elbows with 
 hands near the shoulders, fists clinched and palms up; take and 
 hold a full breath; push forward the hands, on a line level with 
 the shoulders, at the same time unclasping the fingers; then, 
 keeping the arms as near to the sides as possible, so as not to strain 
 the iungs, and clinching the fingers, draw the fists against the 
 shoulders and as far back as you can. Place each fist near its own 
 shoulder, fill lungs, and. keepmg the elbows near the body, touch 
 tliem in front, Rud behind if you can. 
 
 d. _ Neck Movements. ^Bend the head backward and forward, 
 from side to side, and t^vist it. 
 
 e. Throat Movements. — To accustom different parts of the 
 back of the mouth and throat to open and allow vowel sounds to 
 come forward — 
 
 I. Keep putting tip of tongue behind upper front teeth, and car- 
 rying it. as if about to swallow it, along roof of mouth. 
 
 II. Keep Hfting the soft palate (something like gaping); look 
 into a mirror and make the uvula (i.e. the membrane hanging from 
 the back of the roof of the mouth) disappear. 
 
 III. Alternately gape and make a movement as if about to 
 swallow. 
 
24 
 
 ORATOR S MAKUAL. 
 
 IV. Put three fingers' breadth between the upper and lower 
 teeth, and keep moving the lips backward and forward. 
 
 f. Time for Vocal Practice. — Begin from one to five hours 
 after eating, and practice from fifteen to thirty minutes. 
 
 I. If any one exercise fatigues or irritates the organs, pass on 
 to another. 
 
 II. If out of practice, go over the exercises daily for three or 
 four days before public speaking. 
 
 8. Breathing. {See §§ 1, 2.) 
 
 RATE. 
 
 According to each 
 mode, practice — 
 
 I . Effusive or tran- 
 quil breathing : i.e. in- 
 hale slowly, and exhale 
 with a prolonged whis- 
 pered sound of h. 
 
 II. Expulsive: i. e. 
 inhale more rapidly and 
 expel, by contracting 
 the abdomen, repeated 
 whispers (a second or 
 two long), of h — h, 
 h — h, etc. 
 
 III. Explosive or 
 abrupt : i. e. inhale 
 more rapidly (or inhale 
 slowly); expel, by con- 
 tracting the abdomen, 
 suddenly and forcibly, 
 one or any number of 
 whispered sounds of h. 
 
 In this way cough, 
 yawn, sob and laugh, 
 out the whispers. 
 
 To develop full respiration, strong utterance and clear articula- 
 tion, practice the exercises in § 11, or read anything in a whisper. 
 Never prolong this exercise for more than two or three minutes. 
 Never practice breathing or whispering after you feel giddy. 
 
 9. Vocal Cords. — I. Holding the breath, repeat as rapidly as 
 possible a soft, short sound, between that of u in itp and oo in coo — 
 whispered — then softly vocal — and up and down the scale. 
 Make it in the forward part of the mouth, rather than in the throat, 
 and never after it begins to irritate the organs. 
 
 II. If you have a voice of a breathing quality, occasionally, for a 
 few seconds, hold the breath and force it against the vocal cords so 
 
 Always inhaling through nostrils — 
 
 I. Expand, first, abdomen, then lower 
 side ribs, then lift chest, then contract 
 abdomen and side ribs, and last drop the 
 chest. (§7: a.) 
 
 In the following, if a beginner, place the 
 arms akimbo, with fingers pointing forward, 
 then throw shoulders (not body) forward so 
 as to keep the chest down, and with fingers 
 gently drawing apart the lower ribs below 
 the breast bone — 
 
 II. Expand, first, lower side ribs, then 
 (throwing shoulders l)ack) the abdomen, 
 and lift chest, then contract the lower 
 ribs and abdomen, and last drop the chest. 
 (§7: a.) 
 
 After a few weeks, see to it also that the 
 muscles at side and back of the waist ex- 
 pand as you draw in the air. 
 
 \^W^ In holding the breath, or letting it 
 out, never allow yourself to feel that there 
 is contraction or force expended in the 
 throat. Keep the throat open: make the 
 waist muscles do all the work. (§ 3.) 
 
EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE. 
 
 25 
 
 as to grate tliem together, emitting a half-vocalized, constantly 
 interrupted sound. 
 
 10. Elementary Vowel Sounds. {See §§ 3, 4.) 
 
 a. Practice the sound of oo in coo, but much less than aw; in jaw ^ 
 oh in woe, and ah m father. 
 
 b. It is best to practice aid between about f and b, ^^^=; an 
 00 quality of aiv for a note or two above this; then oh ^j on 
 the highest (speaking) notes; ah is best for the lowest notes. Tenors 
 and sopranos should practice most between f and b (as above), bassos 
 and contraltos between d and g. Avoid practicing too high. 
 
 RATE. 
 
 MODE. 
 
 Practice oo, but espe- Inhaling through nostrils as in breathing 
 cially oh, aw, and later, exercises, expelhng breath by contracting 
 ah. the abdomen, and allowing none to escape 
 
 I. Effusively. Walk- before vocalizing it, repeat over slowly — 
 ing slowly, with arms I. woo, woo, etc. 
 akimbo, sound, as long After a few repetitions, lowering the chin 
 as possible, but not and bringing it forward slightly, and retain- 
 ing the 00 quality of the tone, pass on to 
 ivoe; thus: woo, woo, woe, woe, etc. 
 
 After a few repetitions drop the w, yet 
 keep the vowel where it was with the w 
 before it; thus: woe, woe, oh, oh, etc. 
 
 Practice oh on a comparatively high key, 
 for five or ten minutes. 
 
 When aw can be made properly, as indi- 
 cated _ below, bringing forward the chin, 
 lowering the chin and pit<^h, and retaining 
 the oh quality of the tone, pass to aw, aw, 
 etc., and from ait?, drawing the chin back 
 and down a Little, to ah, ah, etc. 
 
 II. Keeping the tongue as flat as possi- 
 ble behind, with its tip against tlie lower 
 a match held in^" front front gums, push forward the lower jaw, 
 of the mouth will not open mouth wide, draw in the breath as if 
 out by the about to yawn, and with the mouth in this 
 position utter from abdomen, at a medium 
 pitch, for five or ten minutes, haw, haw, 
 etc., aw, aw, etc. 
 
 Aspirate slightly, and drop h when sure 
 that the sound is made from the abdomen. 
 After a few days pass from haiv, aiv, down 
 ' the scale to hah, ah, and up the scale- to 
 ho, oh, as indicated in the last exercise. 
 c. To keep the mouth open, place part of a match-stick between 
 upper and lower teeth, one to one and a half inches long for ato- 
 shorter for oh, longer for ah. 
 
 It will take the beginner many weeks to learn to make these 
 sounds properly, and he must always continue to practice them. 
 2 
 
 after you lack in breath, 
 a soft, low 00. 
 
 II. Expulsively. 
 Utter, by contracting 
 the abdomen, with mod- 
 erate force, repeated 
 sounds (a second or two 
 long) of o— h ! a— w ! 
 etc. 
 
 III. Explosively. 
 Utter, by contracting 
 the abdomen, short, 
 sharp, ringing tones, 
 oh! ah! etc. 
 
 When rightly given. 
 
 be blown 
 breath. 
 
 In this way cough, 
 yav/n, sob and laugh 
 
 out the sounds. 
 
26 
 
 ORATOR^S MANUAL. 
 
 11. Elementary Consonant Sounds. {See § 6.) 
 
 Contracting abdomen with each utterance, and taking- care not 
 to pronounce the name of the consonant, and not to sound the vowel 
 following it, repeat the vocal sounds indicated by the sub-vocals 
 and breathing sounds by the aspirates : 
 
 SUB-VOCALS 
 
 
 
 ASPIRATES 
 
 First three for nasal passages 
 
 * ^ as 
 
 Arnw correspond- f a 
 VOW, ingto I in 
 
 fourfold. 
 
 m r,: moon, ^""'tJ^^or' 
 
 tb "' 
 
 bob, " p ' 
 
 pawpaw. 
 
 n " noon. 
 
 td " 
 
 daud, " t " 
 
 taught. 
 
 ng" anguish, " 
 
 tg" 
 
 gog, " ck" 
 
 cuckoo. 
 
 1 " Lulu, 
 
 gj" 
 
 George," ch " 
 
 chowchow. 
 
 y " you, 
 
 th" 
 
 though," th" 
 
 thought. 
 
 r " row. 
 
 z " 
 
 azure, " tsh " 
 
 shaw. 
 
 r " err, 
 
 z " 
 
 zone, " t^ " 
 
 sauce. 
 
 Exercises for Advanced Scholars. 
 12. Moving the jaws vigorously, repeat OO-oi-ai-OU, 
 oo-oi-ai-ou, etc. 
 
 a. In uncultivated voices, the muscular effort of articulating the 
 consonants closes the back of mouth and the throat, thus keeping 
 the vowel sounds down. In stammering and stuttering, the chief 
 trouble is the same; i.e. the artionhition, so to speak, swallows the 
 vowel. So practice words containing consonants and open 
 or long vowels, keeping vowel sounds as near the lips and the 
 throat as wide open as possible, with the lower jaw forward and the 
 throat in the position of wailing. If the exercise tires the muscles 
 on the outside of the throat, no matter. 
 
 b. Repeat the words in § 11, using, at first, a separate action of 
 the diaphragm with each consonant, and dwelling upon each very 
 distinctly, thus: b-o-b, d-au-d. 
 
 Also, 
 
 bibe babe 
 
 dod daud 
 
 gawky gargoyle 
 
 judge jejune 
 
 lull loll 
 
 rare rule 
 
 more mine 
 
 noun none 
 
 thou loathe 
 
 booby 
 
 bauble 
 
 died 
 
 doodle 
 
 gong 
 
 glowing 
 
 jujube 
 
 Julia 
 
 dwell 
 
 liberty 
 
 rural 
 
 bar 
 
 maim 
 
 moon 
 
 nine 
 
 name 
 
 mouthinor 
 
 mother 
 
 *Also, kng in k(i)ng. t Practice much on low tones. 
 
 X Do not practice these unless you lisp. 
 
EXERCISES EOR PRACTICE. 
 
 27 
 
 vault 
 
 hive 
 
 love 
 
 lave 
 
 wayward 
 
 wave 
 
 pope 
 
 pipe 
 
 your 
 
 culture 
 
 tote 
 
 tight 
 
 zeugma 
 
 zone 
 
 church 
 
 changing 
 
 Asia 
 
 azure 
 
 thaw 
 
 through 
 
 cocoon 
 
 croking 
 
 show 
 
 bosh 
 
 fife 
 
 five 
 
 cease 
 
 souse 
 
 E^" A cultivated voice out of practice can be prepared for pubUc 
 speaking by a two days' repetition of the above exercises. 
 
 c. Moving the lips and diaphragm vigorously, repeat with e and 
 short vowels — 
 
 Wee - week- wick -wack- week, or quae -queck- quick - 
 quack-quock. 
 
 i^° Learn to use the open vowels with consonants, and the 
 short vowels will usually take care of themselves. 
 
 d. Practice difficult combinations of consonants with and without 
 vowels. (See^6:lY.) 
 
 Add also t or d and st to the first three columns of the following: 
 
 arm 
 
 wrong 
 
 crack 
 
 brow 
 
 sky 
 
 helms 
 
 dream 
 
 bathe 
 
 bask 
 
 crow 
 
 spy 
 
 prompt 
 
 scorn 
 
 imprison 
 
 crackle 
 
 grow 
 
 spry 
 
 nymphs 
 
 hold 
 
 chirp 
 
 throttle 
 
 strow 
 
 blow 
 
 thousanc 
 
 furl 
 
 live 
 
 dazzle 
 
 throw 
 
 glow 
 
 twelfth 
 
 probe 
 
 march 
 
 baffle 
 
 frown 
 
 flown 
 
 rhythms 
 
 range 
 
 bark 
 
 gobble 
 
 prow 
 
 splash 
 
 expects 
 
 forge 
 
 milk 
 
 drivel 
 
 draw 
 
 slow 
 
 contents 
 
 13. 
 
 Pitch, and Time. 
 
 (§§ 35-96.) 
 
 
 Practice with different degrees of loudness and kinds of stress, 
 with long" and sliort shdes in slow and fast time, the following 
 inflections, and also the examples under a, b, c, d, h, i, and §§ 39-42. 
 
 In the following the small preliminary note, in connection with each inflec- 
 tion, represents a slight slide of the voice that occasionally, especially in connec- 
 tion with terminal or median stress (§ 15), precedes the real inflection. This 
 makes the voice in the downward inflection, for instance, move thus -^, rather 
 than ^. This preliminary movement of the voice is not represented in the 
 marks used in this book, except in the case of the upward circumflex ~, in 
 which, because it is exceptionally important, it is marked lest it should be over- 
 looked. 
 
28 oratok's manual. 
 
 a. Falling Inflection. 
 
 ah ah ah 
 
 It's a glorious, a 
 monstrous, awful ! 
 
 b. Rising Inflection. 
 
 oh oh 
 
 splendid project! It's abominable, 
 
 oh * oh aw aw aw ah "ah "5h 
 
 Indeed, is it so ? Did lie say so, and to y6u ? 
 
 c. Falling Circumflex. 
 
 ''-^si^-a-,:^:,-^— f:^ It. , ^ ^ -^. 
 
 oh oh oh oh 
 
 Oh, you meant no harm, — oh, no, you are ptire. 
 d. Rising Circumflex. 
 
 All that I live by is the awl. 
 
 e. Practice the scale both up and down with a long 
 Tnedian swell on each note. This exercise, especially with 
 oo, will also cultivate pure quality. 
 
 rf'"'-r- 
 
 ^pp 
 
 
 
 
 
 — ^ — 
 
 —^ 
 
 ah 
 
 ah 
 
 -A- 
 
 -ar 
 ah 
 
 ah aw 
 
 -m- 
 aw 
 
 aw 
 
 3— «- 
 
 oh oh 
 
 Oh 
 
 fk^_^I2_ 
 
 — & — 
 
 
 — o ^ — 
 
 
 
 c:^ 
 
 
 f. Sound alternately a liigli then a low ah, aw, or oh. 
 
 Develop low tones by practicing a low g, d, or b consonant ele- 
 ment, or low whispered u in up ; high tones by using tliem. Never 
 practice too high. 
 
EXERCISES EOR PRACTICE. 29 
 
 g". Base or contralto voices should gain perfect command of 
 musical notes between mid e and g. Tenors and sopranos between 
 mid g and &. 
 
 h. Read the following, beginning low, and gradualh/ ascending 
 the scale on each syllable, and ending with the rising inflection : 
 
 Do you mean to tell me that you could have thought 
 
 that I could go all around town and tell everybody that I 
 
 happened to meet that I could believe such a mean story 
 
 about you as that? 
 
 i. Read the same, beginning high, and graduallij descending to 
 a falhng inflection. Also, 
 
 Start high. To the deep, (descend) down, 
 
 (Descend) To the deep, (descend) down, 
 
 low, Through the shades of sleep; 
 
 Through the cloudy strife 
 gradually, C)f death and of life ; 
 
 Through the veil and the bar 
 risino- ^^ things that seem and are ; 
 
 high, Even to the steps of the remotest throne, 
 
 lower, Down ! 
 
 lower, down ! 
 
 low, down ! 
 
 Practice exercises in §§ 149-151; § 97; § 92: a, b, c. 
 14. Force. (§§ 99-115.) 
 
 Practice explosively, expulsivehj and effusively, — i. e. with dif- 
 ferent degrees of abruptness and smoothness, both loud and soft — 
 the exercises in §§ 10-12. 
 
 a. Also, with different degrees of loudness, then with abrupt 
 explosive and expulsive force, at medium or loiv pitch — 
 
 FORWARD, FORWARD, FORWARD, etc. 
 
 Read extracts in §§ 107, 110, 111, 114, 118, 149: b, d, and 
 §§211, 213. 
 
 b. For smooth force, make at medium pitch, long, swelling sounds 
 of 00 (§ 13: e), beginning and ending soft, with the middle loud. 
 
30 orator's manual. 
 
 Read passages in §§ 112, 119, 120, and those marked for effusive 
 utterance in §§ 221-225. 
 
 15. Stress. (§§ 99-105.) 
 
 Lift the arms at full length above the head, and strike for- 
 ward and down. When the hands reach the hip-level, stop them 
 suddenly and utter ah. This, which need not be continued after one 
 can give the proper sound, will cause 
 
 Initial Stress > , with the beginning of tone louder (not neces- 
 sarily very loud) than its continuation or end ; made with explosive 
 or expulsive utterance (§§ 8, 10). 
 
 With the same movement (§ 15) begin a soft sound as the hands 
 begin to descend, and end with an explosion as they stop. This 
 will give 
 
 Terminal Stress < , with the end of the sound loudest; made 
 with expulsive or explosive utterance (§§ 8, 10), 
 
 Median Stress <>, with the middle of the sound loudest; 
 made with effusive or expulsive utterance (§§ 8, 10). 
 
 Compound Stress X. This begins and ends loud; a com- 
 bination of Initial and Terminal Stress. 
 
 Thoroug-h Stress XX' loud throughout ; a combination of 
 Compound and Median Stress. 
 
 Tremulous Stress -— , a trembling tone. 
 
 a. Practice each kind of stress with ah, aw and oil ; also 
 With vehemence, > Understand distinctly, you all are fools. 
 
 determination, < I am determined to abide and remain. 
 enthusiasm, O Let all the grandeur of the law be recalled, 
 amazement, X Is it all gone, — all he had '? Yes, all. 
 defiance, XX ^^t, all the lawyers and the law work on. 
 
 grief, --— Ah, is such the law, — the nation's law? 
 
 "b. Practice the different examples in §§ 99-105. 
 
 16. Volume and Quality. 
 
 The flexibility of the organs, which is the inevitable result of 
 practicing the foregoing exercises, will sufficiently prepare one for 
 the direct study of these elements as explained in §§ 121-137, 
 
EMPHASIS. 
 
 17. The first thing noticeable in the utterance of consecutive 
 words is, that certain of them are uttered with more weight of voice 
 than others are; that they receive what, for this reason, is termed 
 an emphasis. A little thought will evince that this emphasis is 
 given to words mainly because they are conceived of as introducing 
 into the general drift of the phraseology more iveight of meaning 
 than other words do; often as in themselves conveying the specific 
 meaning that characterizes a whole passage. A man, e. g., may 
 remark: "In that case, 1 shall walk to Boston." Four persons, 
 hearing him, may exclaim respectively: "You shall walk to jBos- 
 fon.'" "You shall walk to Boston !" " You shall walk to Boston !" 
 "■You shall walk to Boston l" In each case the word (in italics) 
 emphasized indicates that it, rather than any other, specifies that 
 which conveys to the conception of the speaker the import, informa- 
 tion or peculiarity of the expression. 
 
 This example shows also the importance, if we wish to be rightly 
 understood, of emphasizing the right words in the right way. It will 
 be noticed that the same phraseology may be made to convey almost 
 as many different ideas as there are different words in it to be em- 
 phasized. Here is the 
 
 18. General Principle Underlying Emphasis. 
 
 Words or phrases conceived of as introducing special impor- 
 tance, information or pecuUaritij into the general thought of a 
 passage are emphasized; those that merely carry forv^ard 
 the general thought, expressing what is of little value in 
 itself, or is known, acknowledged, forestalled or repetitious, 
 either in the way of statement or sequence, are slighted. 
 
 a. For illustrations consult §§ 40, 41, 42. All that are necessary 
 for our present purpose may be considered in connection with the 
 following : 
 
 19. Antithetic Emphasis. Antithetic or contrasted 
 words or phrases necessarily introduce importance, pecu- 
 liarity, etc., into the general thought, and are emphasized. 
 
 31 
 
32 okator's manual. 
 
 1. If we have no regard for our own character, we ought, at 
 least, to regard the characters of others. 
 
 3. The wicked flee when no man pursueth; but the righteous 
 are bold as a lion. 
 
 3. Without were Jightings; within were fears. 
 
 4. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an 
 enemy are deceitful. 
 
 20. Transferred Emphasis. When a word or clause 
 that has been once emphasized is repeated soon after, the 
 emphasis, unless there be some special reason for directing 
 attention again to the same thought, is transferred to some 
 other word or clause; e. g. 
 
 1. Jesus asked them, saying. What think ye of Christ, — whose 
 so?iishe? They say unto him, The son of Z)«r/c?. He saith unto 
 them, How, then, doth David in spirit call him Lord? * * * if 
 David, then, call him Lord, how is he his son ? 
 
 3. How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough 
 and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my 
 father, and will say unto him. Father, I have sinned. 
 
 3. He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but 
 for the sins of the ivhole ivorld. 
 
 Also John vii: 41, 43, 
 
 a. But if the repeated ivord has a neiv imjoort or refers 
 to a different ohject, it may be emphasized; e. g. 
 
 1. And he began to be in want, and he went and jomed himself 
 to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into the fields to feed 
 swine. 
 
 3. Then he said, I pray thee, therefore, father, that thou wouldst 
 send him to ray father's house. 
 
 21. As an association in sound is the best possible repre- 
 sentation of an association in sense, we frequently find 
 words and clauses that seem to introduce little into the 
 general thought, which, nevertheless, must be emphasized, to 
 indicate the relation that they hold to other words and 
 clauses; hence 
 
 a. Emphasis on Account of Association. Words or 
 series of words associated with one another, either by being 
 
PRINCIPLES OF EMPHASIS. 33 
 
 in apposition or by having similar grammatical relationships 
 or general characteristics, are similarly emphasized. (See 
 §211: 5,7, 12; §215. 
 
 1. Thou speakest of great 2Ji'i>icw^^s which we do not under- 
 6tand — oxygen and hydrogen. 
 
 2. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
 The oppressor's ivrong, the proud man's contumely, 
 The pangs of despised love, the laiv's delay, 
 
 The insolence of office and the spurns 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
 When he himself might his quietus make 
 With a bare bodkin ? 
 
 3. Holy intention is to the actions of a man that which the soul 
 is to the body, or form to its matter, or the ?^oot to its tree, or the sun 
 to the ivorld, or the fountain to a river, or the tase to a pillar; for 
 without these the body is a dead trunk, the matter is sluggish, the 
 tree is a block, the river is quickly dry, and the pillar rushes into 
 flatness or ruin. 
 
 Connected with this principle of association are the following: 
 
 22. Emphasis by Attraction. In order not to interfere 
 
 with the general sense of the sentence in which they stand, 
 
 words, or series of words, sometimes receive by attraction 
 
 an emphasis appropriate only for some more important 
 
 word with which they are associated. 
 
 Thus, in the following, power receives the same emphasis as 
 not. If it preceded not, it would be emphasized differently. 
 
 1. Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of such means 
 as the God of Nature hath placed in onv power. 
 
 And hold and duty receive the same as exclaim, though the 
 Duke would have uttered them differently. 
 
 2. Was Arthur Duke of Wellington in the house, and did he 
 not start up and exclaim: ''■Hold! I have seen the aliens do their 
 duty?'' 
 
 23. Emphasis by Personation or Representation. 
 Words, or series of words, associated with a conception that 
 may be represented by the tones of the voice, may receive 
 an emphasis suggesting that which is mentioned; e. g. 
 
34 orator's mai^ual. 
 
 In quick time — He flew by like a flash o' lightning. 
 
 In low pitch — He growled out, " Who's there?" 
 
 With loud force — Forward, the light brigade ! 
 
 With thin volume — Here's a knife ; clip quick ! 
 
 Representing character — " Well, Jo! What is the matter? Don't 
 be frightened." 
 
 " I thought," says Jo, who has started and is looking round, — " I 
 thought I was in Tom-all- Alone's agin, An't there nobody here but 
 you, Mr. Woodcot ?" 
 
 24. In reading the Bible, personation, in the sense of imitat- 
 ing the manner of the characters described, should not be carried too 
 far. The reader should be in the attitude of a medium, — both 
 receiving and imparting, both listening and causing others to 
 listen. 
 
 25. Besides applying the above principles, in determining the 
 appropriate emphasis to be used with any given word or phrase : 
 
 a. Let one try to find out how he would utter the same if he 
 were talking it, instead of declaiming it. 
 
 b. Let one try the words supposed to be emphatic, then 
 other words (without regard to the part of speech to which they 
 belong), until satisfied that he has found the right emphasis for 
 the right word. 
 
 c. Let him remember that, with inexperienced speakers, the in- 
 spiration that comes from an audience affects favorably only force 
 and volume (§§ 29, 30) ; ihe pauses and inflections, and, to some ex- 
 tent, movement and pitch (§§ 29, 30), it affects unfavorably; there- 
 fore, one should invariably determine upon these latter before the 
 time for declaiming comes. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS, 
 
 AS DERIVED FROM NATURAL RHYTHM AND ACCENTUATION. 
 
 26. It is observed that, as a rule, the consecutive words of every 
 language are uttered rhythmically ; and this because every second 
 or third syllable is accented. 
 
 a. There is a physical reason for accentuation. On examining 
 the action of the throat, it is found that the current of sound flows 
 through the vocal passages just as blood pulses through the veins or 
 water pours through the neck of a bottle, with what might be 
 
ELEMEi^TS OP EMPHASIS. 35 
 
 termed active and passive movements. If this physical requirement 
 is disregarded, as is usually the case in stammering and stuttering, 
 the ease of utterance is impeded. 
 
 b. Natural Rhythm, as a rule, cannot be avoided in case 
 words are uttered soilly and quickly, as in ordinary conversation. 
 "When they are uttered loudly and slowly, as in most oratory, it is 
 possible to disregard its requirements; but when this is done, the 
 delivery that has no rhythm in it will not appear natural to those 
 who hear it. Hence, in all forms of utterance that are artistic, we 
 may perceive the results of an endeavor to represent nature in this 
 regard. Not only the j^oet and musician arrange their clauses and 
 melodies so that the prominent words, rhymes, swells and runs shall 
 be rhythmical, but the orator, both as a rhetorician and elocutionist, 
 must do the same. Rhythm, however, must always be made sub- 
 servient to the sense. This can always be done, because 
 
 27. The requirements of rhythm and emphasis usually 
 coincide. 
 
 Rhythm is a result of regularly recurring accentuation. This 
 makes prominent certain syllables, and in the act of doing so neces- 
 sarily slights others. But emphasis doep- precisely the same thing. 
 Simply hy increasing, therefore, the cUyree of habitual accent on a 
 given syllable we can render emphatic the word in which it occurs. 
 In this way we may emphasize either one or all of the following 
 words in italics : 
 
 One-eighth of the ivhole population were colored slaves. 
 
 In sach cases the elements of accent, if discovered, ivill give us the 
 elements of emphasis. The ordinary accent distinguishes the syllable 
 on which it falls from those before and after it, by its being uttered 
 in longer time, at a different pitch, with more force and greater 
 volume. For definitions see § 29. The inference is, that the same 
 elements will be present when, for the sake of emphasis, we make 
 the accent extraordinary. 
 
 28. There are occasionally cases in which the require- 
 ments of rhythm and emphasis do not coincide. Here, as 
 both are important, they must be made to coincide. 
 
 a. When we try to make them do this, we find that time, 
 pitch, force, and volume, furnish all the elements needed for the 
 purpose. 
 
36 
 
 "b. In the first of the following sentences, to have perfect 
 rhythm, there needs to be an accented syllable after nature and 
 character, and unaccented syllables both before and after high, so 
 that high can be emphasized as well as most and God. Accordingly, 
 to give the right emphasis and yet preserve the rhythm (i. e. have 
 the vocalizing breath work in the right way), we need to fill up the 
 time where these syllables should be, either by pausing after a word, 
 as after nature, character, and most, or by dwelling upon it, as upon 
 high; i. e. we need to read the whole in the same relative time as 
 the second sentence in which no syllables are missing; e. g.* 
 
 Nature, | •^ it is | often | said, re | veals the | character | *j of 
 Nature, ] as it is | often | said, re | veals the | character ] too of 
 
 the I most *^ \ high •J | God. 
 
 the I great and | mighty | God. 
 
 c. Notice also the following:* 
 
 1. Thou I compassest my | path, *^ \ ^ and my [ lying down, ^ I 
 •7 and I art ac- | quainted with | all my | ways. ^ \ For there is ] 
 not a I word in my ] tongue, j ^ but | lo, •^ | ^ I Lord, | thou •/ ] 
 knowest it | alto- [ gether, | *? I 7 I Thou hast be- | set me | 7 
 be- I hind and be- | fore, ^ \ •^and | laid thine | hand up- | on me. | 
 •7 I *f I Such "7 I knowledge is | too 7 | wonderful | for me: | *7 i^ 
 is 1 high, •y 1 *? I I cannot at- | tain unto it. 
 
 2. At I midnight, | */ in his | guarded | tent, *? | 
 
 The I Turk ^ \ ^ was | dreaming | ^ of the | hour, *^ | 
 When I Greece, *? | *7 her | knee in | suppliance | bent, *J \ 
 Should 1 tremble | ^7 at his | power; *^ \ 
 •7 I •y In 1 dreams, *^ \ ^ through \ camp and | court, he | bore ^ | 
 The I trophies | 7 of a 1 conqueror. | 
 
 In I dreams, his ] song of | triumph | heard; ^ | */ I 
 Then *^ \ wore his ] monarch's | signet | ring, | •7 1 
 Then*7 | press'd that ^ monarch's | throne, | *7 I ? ^ I King; *? | *f | 
 As 1 wild his ] thoughts, *^ \ *^ and | gay of | wing, ^ \ 
 
 As I Eden's | garden | bird. 7 i *^ I 7 I 
 At 1 midnight, | 7 ^n the | forest- | shades, | 7 I 
 
 Boz- I zaris | ranged his | Suliote | band, | 7 I 
 True \ 7 as the | steel 7 I 7 of I their 7 I tried 7 I blades, j 
 Heroes | 7 i^^ I heart 7 I 7 and | hand; | 7 I *? I 
 * In the rest of this book the bars indicate pauses, but here they are used as 
 in music, and only the musical rests indicate pauses. 
 
ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS. 37 
 
 There 7 I */ had the | Persian's | thousands | stood, *^ \ 
 
 There •? | *? had the | glad •/ 1 earth ^ \ drunk their 1 blood •? | 
 
 I On I oldPla- [tasa's j day: | 
 And I now 7 I 7 there | breathed that ] haunted | air 7 I, 
 The I sons 7 1 7 ^^ I ^^^^^ who | conquered | there, 7 I 
 With 1 arm to | strike 7 I 7 ^"^ 1 ^^^^ ^^ 1 ^^^^' I 
 
 As I quick 7 1 7 as I far 7 I 7 as 1 they. 7 I *? I 7 I 
 
 d. Observe that sometimes, as after throne, thougJits, and now, in 
 the last example, the pause, suggested iu the first place by the 
 requirements of rhythm, is made very long. For the sake of 
 emphasis, the voice rests during the time necessary for the utterance 
 not alone of one or two syllables, but in some cases of half-a-dozen 
 syllables. 
 
 e. Observe also that when, instead of merely ceasing to make a 
 sound, the voice fills up the interval of time by dwelling on a word 
 (as, in the last example, on Greece, tremble, throne and now), this 
 action is accompanied by a decided change in pitch (e. g. Greece 
 and tremble), or in force (e. g. i/irone and now) ; and that, wherever 
 there is a change in these, the very effort made in causing the voice 
 to glide from one pitch to another, or to be expelled from the lungs 
 with more force, has a tendency to produce a change in its volume. 
 Accordingly we see that wherever emphasis and rhythm do not 
 coincide, a judicious use of the elements that enter into both can 
 make them coincide. Enough has been said to show why 
 
 29. The Elements of Emphasis are, 
 
 Time, determined by the relative rapidity with which words 
 are uttered ; 
 
 Pitch, by tlie relative position of the sounds on the musical 
 staff, whether high, (g^f-gi: medium, ^^^ or low, ^— i— 
 
 Force, by the relative energy with which the breath is expelled 
 from the lungs ; and, 
 
 Volume, by the relative degree in which the breath is vocalized 
 and made resonant. 
 
 These elements admit of subdivision according to the following 
 principles : 
 
 30. In Emphasizing Single Words by means of 
 
 a change. — 
 
 a. In Time, a Pause, marked ' 1 ||, is used after, before or on a 
 
38 oeator's manual. 
 
 word. The manner of pausing* is determined largely by what is 
 termed the Quantity of time that can be given to the utterance of 
 the word. 
 
 b. In Pitch, an Inflection, or, if we refer to the movement of 
 the voice in producing this, a Slide is used, termed downward or 
 falling (§ 13), marked ^ ; upward or rising (§ 13), marked ' ; and a 
 circu7nfiex or wave, if it moves in both directions. The wave is 
 termed (from the way in which it ends) falling, marked *", or ris- 
 ing, marked ""^ (§ 13), 
 
 c. In Force, Special Force is used ; and the manner of using 
 this depends on the kind of Stress that is given to a syllable. The 
 different kinds of stress, determined by the place in the syllable 
 on which the chief energy is expended, are initial >, terminal <, 
 median O, compound X, thorough y^, and tremulous ^'^-^. [See 
 §§ 15, 99-105.) 
 
 d. In Volume, there is no special term used for a slight change. 
 It is said to be thin or full. When the change is great, and not only 
 in degree but in kind, there is a difference in Quality. 
 
 31. In Emphasizing Consecutive Words by 
 
 means of a change 
 
 a. In Time, we find, corresponding to long or short pauses, slow 
 or fast Movement; e. g. 
 
 Slow. 
 A soldier | of the Legion || lay dying I at Algiers ; \\ 
 There was lack | of woman's nursing, || there was lack || of woman's | 
 
 tears. 
 
 Fast. 
 
 I sprang | to the stirrup, ] and Joris, | and he ; 1 
 
 I galloped, I Dirck galloped, | we galloped I all three. 
 
 b. In Pitch, corresponding to long or short slides, together with 
 their influence on intervening syllables, we have varied or unvaried 
 Melody, and also (as the speaking voice is naturally low, and, 
 therefore, varied mainly through introducing the high tones) an as- 
 sociated high or low Key. 
 
 c. In Force, corresponding to the different degrees and kinds 
 of special force and stress, we have loud or soft, abrupt or smooth 
 General Force; divided again, according to one's mode of vocaliz- 
 ing, into sustained, natural and suppressed force, and, according to 
 one's mode of emitting the breath, into explosive, expulsive and 
 effusive force. 
 
ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS. 39 
 
 d. In Volume, we have changes in degree, or in kind ; in the 
 latter case necessitating changes in Quality. 
 
 32. The Significance of the Elements of Em- 
 phasis must be determined, in all cases, by the object in 
 view, or by the effect produced v^hen using any given ele- 
 ment. 
 
 Time. When a speaker pauses or lingers on a v^ord or 
 phrase, he does so that he himself, or that others, may have 
 more time in which to think of it. The giving of a differ- 
 ent relative time to different words causes, in jDoetry, what 
 is termed metre or measure. We may take a hint from this 
 term, and say that the relative time apportioned to a word 
 indicates the mind's measurement of it, — represents the 
 speaker's judgment as to the amount of meaning or impor- 
 tance that it conveys. 
 
 Pitch. When, either abruptly, as in the emphatic 
 slides, or gradually, as in unemphatic passages, the voice 
 passes up or down the scale, or continues on one key, it 
 does so because the mind of the speaker is impelled to open, 
 close or continue the consideration of an idea that has been 
 broached (§ 43). The melody of the movement taken by 
 the voice represents, therefore, like melody in music, the 
 mind's motive, — indicates its purpose in using the partic- 
 ular phraseology to which the melody is applied ; and because 
 pitch, through the kinds of inflections and melody chosen, 
 reveals the motives, we shall find that the use of this ele- 
 ment in ordinary conversation is constantly causing pre- 
 cisely the same phraseology to express entirely opposite 
 meanings (§§ 53-66). 
 
 Force. When one uses different degrees and kinds of 
 force with a word, he does so because he conceives that, in 
 connection with the idea that it expresses, there is more or 
 
40 
 
 less demand for exertion. Hence, Force indicates the miiicCs 
 activity^ — represents the kind or degree of mental energy. 
 
 Volume. When natural causes have such an effect 
 upon utterance as to close, choke or expand the throat — as 
 in whispering, the guttural sound, or wailing, — it is because 
 one's excitement, one's feelings, have mastered him. Vol- 
 ume, or the qualities of the voice, therefore, which are 
 determined by just such actions of the throat, represent the 
 degree or kind of mental feel in ff. 
 
 Of course, to some extent, all the departments of mind 
 are enlisted in the use of each of these elements of empha- 
 sis; but when considering that which each is particularly 
 adapted to represent, it may be said that time represents 
 the judgment^ pitch, the motives, force the energy, and the 
 quality of voice the feelings. 
 
 Besides this, it may be said that while the special em- 
 phasis used with an individual word represents some special 
 conception of the speaker with reference to it, the general 
 emphasis given to clauses and sentences represents the com- 
 bined influence of many special conceptions, i.e. his general 
 state of mind, or his moods. 
 
 If a special utterance is conceived of as in itself final or 
 decisive, i.e. interesting, important, noteworthy, affirmative, 
 positive, or if the general mood expressed in the utterance is 
 serious, grave, dignified or self-determined, the judgment, first 
 of all, measures, then the motives direct, and in case there is 
 demand for it the energies push and the feelings qualify the 
 idea as something to be emphasized, because (§ 18) it in- 
 troduces importance, information or peculiarity into the gen- 
 eral sense. This emphasis for important ideas is given by the 
 use of slow time, I OH' unvaried pitch, loud or else ahrupt 
 force, and/«// VOlum.e. Opposite conceptions and states 
 
TIME. 41 
 
 are expressed, of course, in opposite ways. These princi- 
 ples, which there is no necessity of stating again under each 
 separate head of time, pitch, force and volume, will be un- 
 folded and explained in the consideration of these elements 
 that is to follow. 
 
 33. The Diagram on the Elements of Emphasis in Com- 
 bination (§§ 140). 
 
 In this, the facts jus„ stated are presented in such a way as to 
 show at a glance what the elements of emphasis are, and also that 
 similar conditions influence them similarly. The student who has 
 come to understand the principles underlying- the diagram, and can 
 apply them to his delivery, has mastered the main difficulties of our 
 subject. 
 
 34. Methods of Studying the Elements of Emphasis. 
 Beginners should first learn § 201, and what is printed in large 
 
 type, — and enough that is in the fine type to enable them to under- 
 stand the principles in the large type, — under the heads of Elocu- 
 tionary Pauses (§§ 35-39), Movement (§§ 40-42), Inflections (§§ 43- 
 74), Starting Key of the Slides (§§ 75-77), and Key (§§ 96, 97); then 
 they can turn to the diagram (§§ 140), and, in connection with 
 this, study Transitions (§§ 147-151), and Massing (§§ 152. 153). 
 Only after this need their attention be directed to Stress (§§ 98-105), 
 and still later, in connection with vocal culture, to General Force 
 (§§ 106-115), Quantity (§ 39), Quality (§§ 121-137), and Melody 
 (§§ 78-95). See also § 6 of Preface, and §§ 201, 203, 204. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 Elocutioxart Pauses. 
 
 35. Elocutionary Pauses, with cessations of sound, 
 should be made before or after; or the voice should dwell 
 on all words that introduce into the general sense special 
 importance, information, or peculiarity. (§§ 18, 32, 140.) 
 
 a. Pauses are not often made before words, because most of 
 these are preceded by an article, preposition or qualifier that cannot, 
 except for extraordinary emphasis, be separated from them; e. g. 
 One half j of the whole | was the whole | of his claim. 
 2* 
 
42 orator's manual. 
 
 b. They are usually made after words, and must be made there 
 when these contain short vowels and consonant-sounds that cannot 
 be prolonged without a drawl; e. g. 
 
 Up, I sluggard, | up! | Wicked, | debilitated | wretch ! | 
 Fickle I fop! 
 
 c. When a word contains one or more long vowels or consonant- 
 sounds that can be prolonged, the voice dwells on it, with or with- 
 out a cessation of the sound at its close. This makes delivery legato 
 rather than staccato (§ 39); e. g. 
 
 Wailing, | and woe, | and grief, | and fear, | and pain. 
 
 36. Besides making delivery rhi/thmical, and so natural (see 
 § 26, — hence called Harmonic Pauses), these pauses allow time 
 for breathing, for giving slides, stress and full quantitg, and for 
 uttering the important tvords (hence called Rhetorical Pauses) 
 that give the clew to the meaning of a passage with distinctness 
 (see § 40). In addition to this, they have more to do than changes 
 in pitch or force with preventing monotony. They introduce 
 light and shade into delivery. The foreground for important ideas 
 is slower time ; while, in contrast with this, faster time keeps un- 
 important ideas in the background. 
 
 a. These pauses depend on the sense, not on the gram- 
 matical construction ; so they may or may not be used 
 v\rhere there are marks of punctuation. 
 
 b. Sometimes it is impossible to render the sense without bring- 
 ing in the pause, e. g. (see, also, § 97: a; § 140: a) — 
 
 1. Let that plebeian || talk; 'tis not II my || trade. 
 
 2. Daily || with souls that cringe and plot 
 We Sinais climb || and know it || not. 
 
 37. According to the general principle (§ 35) a slight pause 
 usually stands between the predicate of a sentence and its subject, 
 and also its o&Jgc^ (unless these are pronouns); and after emphatic 
 adjectives, adverbs, prepositions (but these latter are very seldom 
 emphatic) and conjunctions, especially but; e. g. 
 
 The people | will carry us | gloriously | through | this struggle. 
 He is pleasing, 1 but || is he honest? 
 
 a. Be especially careful to pause after Adjectives that 
 are essential to the sense of the nouns they qualify; e. g. 
 Instead of chartered | immunities, | held under a British | 
 
TIME. 43 
 
 king, II set before them | the glorious | object | of entire | inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 b. Never pause long on words whose importance depends on 
 what follows; not thus, e. g.. Thousands || of them | that love | me. 
 
 38. In emphasizing by the pause, there is a natural tendency to 
 group or mass {see §§ 152, 153) words together, the less important 
 around the more important, and to consider each phrase thus formed 
 as a unit, i.e. as one long word of many syllables. Such a group has 
 in it no full pauses; but, to separate it from other groups, 
 
 a. A Pause usually precedes and follows every c[uaUfy- 
 ing, relative, parenthetical or independent phrase, clause or 
 sentence; every simile or quotation, and every separate 
 paragraph; e. g. 
 
 Mr. Burke, j| who was no ' friend j to popular ' excitement, — 1 1 
 who was no ' ready ' tool | of agitation, || no hot- ' headed ' enemy j 
 of existing ' establishments, || no undervaluer j of the wisdom ' of 
 our ancestors, || no scoffer | against institutions ' as they are, — || has 
 said, II and it deserves ' to be fixed | in letters ' of gold | over 
 the hall ' of every ' assembly | which calls itself ' a legislative ' 
 body, — II "Where there is abuse, | there ought ' to be clamor; || 
 because ' it is better | to have our slumber | broken ' by the fire- ' 
 bell, II than to perish ' amid the flames, | in our bed! " 
 
 For other examples of the pause, see §28: c; §140: a; §§150, 151, 
 226; 117, 120; and §§ 211-219: 1, 3, 12. 
 
 b. For a similar reason a pause occurs wherever there 
 is, an ellipsis, or words are omitted. 
 
 God, II — to clasp | those fingers | close || 
 And yet | to feel j so lonely ! 
 In connection with pauses, see Massing, § 152; especially what is 
 said of the emphatic tye, § 153. 
 
 Quantity. 
 
 39. Quantity, as this term is technically used in elo- 
 cution, refers exclusively to the quantity of ti7ne employed 
 in the utterance of a syllable. It has to do with the methods 
 of giving the emphatic pauses. 
 
 a. Wherever these pauses occur, and thus lengthen the time in 
 which a syllable is uttered, it is important, if possible, to prolong the 
 ordinary vowel-sounds or consonant-sounds composing it. Otherwiso 
 the tones of the voice will cease after each emphatic syllable; and 
 
44 oeator's manual. 
 
 one's delivery will not be characterized by that continuity of utterance 
 which is always pleasing, and often, as in sustained force (§ 109), 
 necessary to the effect. 
 
 b. As related to Quantity, syllables are of two kinds : 
 
 I. Variable. Almost every syllable, whether containing a 
 long or a short vowel, can be prolonged when there is reason for it; 
 e. g. in that, what, all, arm, debt, easy, fig, defile, nod, no, tub, tune. 
 
 II. Fixed. In a general way, it may be said that some sylla- 
 bles, especially those containing a short vowel and ending with k 
 (c, ch), p or t, cannot be prolonged without a drawl. When such 
 syllables precede a pause, the sound ceases; e.g. Tuck | it | up — 
 Sip I it — The patter | of the upper | pit. 
 
 c. A due regard for the requirements of quantity enables one to 
 read poetry smoothly yet rhythmically; e. g. 
 
 Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
 And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
 Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow 
 From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore — 
 For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — 
 
 Nameless here for evermore. 
 
 d. It has much to do also with imparting to oratory that rhyth- 
 mical emphasis that Dr. Rush termed drift [see § 154). 
 
 il^^ Quantity is best cultivated indirectly, through the 
 General Exercises (§§ 8-14), and through learning to use rightly the 
 different kinds of pauses (§ 35), infiections (§ 43), stress (§ 99) and 
 force (§ 106). 
 
 For long quantity, practice smooth and sustained force (§§ 109- 
 112), also the monotone (§§ 94, 95). 
 
 For short quantity, abrupt and vehement force (§§ 107, 114, 211 
 also initial stress, § 100: 1, 2, 3). 
 
 Movement. 
 40. Movement changes with every transition of mean 
 ing OL' new paragraph, — becoming slow to represent tvhat 
 moves sloitiy,^ or to emphasize v^^hat introduces special impor- 
 tance,'^ information^ or peculiarity^ into the general sense; 
 and becoming fast to represent what moves rapidly,^ or to 
 slight what is comparatively valueless^ or is knoivn,'' acknoivl- 
 edged^ forestalled^ or repetitious,^" whether in the way of 
 statement ^ or sequence/"^ (§ 18, 32, 140.) 
 
TIME. 
 
 45 
 
 Slow, 1. 
 
 Fast, 5. 
 
 Slower, 1, 2, 3. 
 
 Slow, 1-4. 
 
 Fast, 5. 
 
 Slow, 2, 3. 
 
 Faster, 10, 11. 
 Slotv, 2, 3. 
 
 Faster, 10, 12. 
 
 Slow, 2, 3, 4. 
 Faster, 6. 
 
 Slow, 2, 3. 
 Faster, 10, 11. 
 
 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day; 
 The lowing- herd winds slowly o'er the lea; 
 The plowman homeward plods his weary way, 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 
 He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for 
 
 stone, 
 He swam the Eske river where ford there was 
 
 none; 
 But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
 The bride had consented, the gallant came late; 
 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war. 
 Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 
 'So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung; 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 
 "She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush 
 
 and scour; 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth 
 
 young Lochinvar. 
 In the beginning was the word, and the 
 word was with God, and the word was God. 
 The same was in the beginning with God. 
 All things were made by him, 
 and without him was not anything made that 
 was made. 
 
 In him was life, and the life was the light of 
 men. 
 
 There was a man sent from God 
 r whose name was John. The same came for a 
 witness, to bear witness of the light, that all 
 men through him might believe. He was not 
 that light, 
 but was sent to bear witness of that light. 
 
 41. The following, respectively, introduce special impor- 
 l^^ace, information and peculiarity into the general sense, 
 and so are uttered slowly. 
 
 The dogmatic, didactic. For the eyes of the Lord are over 
 the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers; but the face 
 of the Lord is against them that do evil. 
 
 1!h.e detailed, circumstantial. Jesus answered and said unto 
 them, Go and show John again those things which ye do hear and 
 
46 
 
 OEATOR'S MAN'UAL. 
 
 see: the blind receive their sight, and the lame walk; the lepers are 
 cleansed and the deaf hear, etc. 
 
 The strange, wonderful. I say unto thee arise, and take up 
 thy couch, and go unto thine house. And immediately he rose up 
 before them, and took up that whereon he lay, and departed to his 
 own house, glorifying God. And they were all amazed, and they 
 glorified God, and were filled with fear, saying, We have seen strange 
 things to day, 
 
 42. Quotations, Illustrations and all Parenthetical or 
 Qualifying Clauses are preceded and followed by a pause, 
 and are uttered slower or faster according to the getieral 
 principle (§ 40); e. g. 
 
 r Dearly beloved, avenge not yourself, but rath- 
 
 Slower 2 3 4 J ^^ ^^^^ place unto wrath, for it is written, 
 
 I " Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the 
 
 Lord. 
 
 Faster, 6, 10. 
 Slower, 2, 3, 4. 
 
 Shiver, 2, 3. 
 Faster, 5, 6. 
 
 Slower, 2. 
 Faster, 6. 
 
 Ye have heard that it hath been said, "An 
 eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth ; 
 but I say unto you that ye resist not evil." 
 
 The spiritual warrior, like the young candi- 
 date for knighthood, may be none the worse 
 for his preparatory ordeal of watching all 
 ^ night by his armor. 
 
 5 As a fountain casteth out her waters, so she 
 casteth out her wickedness. {Read, also, §§ 226 
 -228. 
 I Let us hold fast the profession of our faith 
 J without wavering (for he is faithful that prom- 
 I ised), and let us consider one another, to pro- 
 Lvoke unto love and to good works. 
 j He girt his fisher's coat unto him, — for he was 
 ( naked, — and did cast himself into the sea. 
 
 In connection with changes in movement, study particularly 
 § 28: b, c; massing or grouping, §§ 152, 153; transitions, §§ 147- 
 151; elements in combination, §§ 140-144, and the examples under 
 each; also §§ 221-226. 
 
PITCH. 47 
 
 PITCH. 
 
 IjS'flectioxs : Emphatic Slides. 
 
 43. Elocutionary Inflections, like Pauses, depend 
 on the sense. 
 
 a. So they are not always determined by marl's of 
 'punctuation, nor by the limits of a grammatical soitence. 
 They do not always rise, for example, w^here there is a ('?), 
 nor fall where there is a (.) 
 
 b. Pitch, as we have found (§ 32), represents the men- 
 tal motive. In giving the changes in pitch peculiar to the 
 inflections, the voice rises when moved to open and falls to 
 close a sentence, if the sense opens and closes where the sen- 
 tence does; e. g. 
 
 If so, I will go. 
 
 0. But if the sense does not open and close where the 
 sentence does, this is not the case; e. g. 
 
 I will go, if so. 
 
 Will you go ? 
 
 No, I won't, if he« waits a year. 
 
 IX GIVIXG ELOCUTIOXAET EMPHASIS, 
 
 d. The voice rises for the purpose of opening up or 
 broaching an idea; i. e. when one is inclined to consider the 
 words uttered merely anticipative or indecisive, in the sense 
 of being in themselves suhordinate, insignificant, trite, nega- 
 tive, or questionable, as contrasted wdth something that is 
 expected to be, or has been, expressed by the falling in- 
 flection. {See §§ 47-66.) 
 
 e. The voice falls for the purpose of closing or 
 completing an idea; i.e. when one is inclined to consider 
 the words uttered fined or decisive, in the sense of being 
 interesting, important, noteivorthy , affirmative, or positive, 
 in themselves. It falls, e. g., tcJienever it gives its sentence, in 
 the sense either of having satisfactorily fi))isJied the ,.ex- 
 
48 orator's manual. 
 
 pression of a sentiment or of having uttered something 
 sententiously. {See §§ 48-66.) 
 
 f. The voice sometimes, on an emphatic word, neither 
 rises nor falls, because the mind is in a mood neither antici- 
 pative nor decisive, but in mere neutral suspense; e. g. 
 
 To die; — to slefep; — 
 To sleep ? Perchance to dr^am. 
 
 g. The voice sometimes, on an emphatic word, both rises 
 and falls, because the mind wishes to express the ideas rep- 
 resented by the movement of the voice in each of these direc- 
 tions. This gives us the circumflex or ivave. {See §§ 67-74.) 
 
 44. Successful Oratory is always characterized by a habit 
 of using liberally the falling inflection or bend, because 
 
 a. This interests an audience by conveying the impression that 
 the objects or ideas mentioned are in themselves interesting^ impor- 
 tant, etc. 
 
 b. It convinces and persuades an audience, by conveying 
 the impression that the speaker is making affirmations about which 
 he is positive. 
 
 c. It keeps control of an audience, by causing the speaker to 
 seem to keep control of himself. Notwithstanding the high pitch 
 to which excitement may occasionally carry one's voice, a frequent 
 use of the downward inflection has a constant tendency to bring the 
 voice down to a lower key, in which one seems to have control of 
 his faculties. When delivery is not thus broken by frequent returns 
 to a more normal key, the rising inflections carry the voice higher 
 and higher, into a tone from which it seems impossible to descend, 
 and from which everything suggestive of self-mastery, or of the 
 mastery of one's subject, is eliminated. In fact, almost all false 
 tones in delivery are connected in some way with a disregard of the 
 falling inflection. 
 
 Do not suppose, however, that giving the falling inflection 
 necessarily involves letting the voice fall on a word as though it 
 ended a paragraph. On this subject study carefully §§ 75-77. 
 
 45. Method of giving the Emphatic Slide. 
 
PITCH. " 49 
 
 a. The slide alivays begins on the accented syllable of a word. 
 Where this is followed by syllables secondarily accented, it is con- 
 tinued downward or upward on them; e. g. 
 
 He did it inconsiderately. Inconsiderately? That is an impos- 
 sibility. 
 
 b. This principle is particularly noticeable when giving the cir- 
 cumflex. In the following, in Italy, the I and y together receive the 
 same inflection as the e in Greece : 
 
 I should feel ashamed of an enthusiasm for ttaly and Greece, 
 did I not also feel it for a land like this. 
 
 c. Notice, also, that while I receives Initial Stress and y Ter- 
 minal, the e in Greece receives Compound Stress. {See §§ 100, 101, 
 103.) 
 
 d. When the slide is given on a single syllable, the voice must 
 pass distinctly through several intervals of pitch; and not merely 
 to a pitch different from that sounded in the syllable uttered be- 
 fore it. 
 
 46. The Liength of the Emphatic Slide, in ascending 
 
 or descending the scale, depends upon the quantity and 
 
 quality of the Emphasis that it is desired to give. 
 
 The final inflection of a clause or sentence, rising or falling through tlie in- 
 terval only of a semitone, is chiefly plaintive, and expresses melancholy, dejec- 
 tion and subdued grief or pathos. If the falling inflection descends through the 
 interval of a tone (or a musical second), it conveys simply the logical completion 
 of the meaning of a clause or sentence, but without any passion or feeling being 
 expressed. If the inflection rises through the interval of a tone, it merely shows 
 that the logical meaning of the clause or sentence is in progress of development, 
 but conveys no emotion. If the rising inflection is carried through the interval 
 of a tone and a half (or in music a minor third), the inflection becomes strongly 
 plaintive, and characterizes all pathetic appeals; whilst, if the inflection falls to 
 the same extent, it marks all assertions with an air of grief and lamentation. 
 If the voice rises through an interval of two tones (or a major third), it ex- 
 presses strongly doubt, appeal and inquiry, and if it falls in the same degree it 
 conveys strong assertion. When the voice rises through the greater intervals of 
 the musical fifth, or, still more, the interval of the octave, it expresses earnest 
 appeal, wonder, amazement, and exclamation ; while if it falls through these in- 
 tervals it expresses the strongest conviction, command, reprehension, hate, and 
 all the sterner passions. A similar increase of meaning or emotion characterizes 
 the extent to which the rising or falling circumflexes may be carried in those 
 cases where they are specially applicable.— Zewg's College Lectures on Elocution, 
 C. J. Plumptre. 
 
 Sufficient has been said to enable the student to understand the 
 following diagrams, in which (from pp. 50-59) inflections with op- 
 posite meanings are arranged vis-d-vis on opposite pages. 
 3 
 
50 orator's ma^s^ual. 
 
 § 47. RISING INFLECTION. — Opening the sense, where the 
 thought is anticipative and the expression of it indecisive, points 
 forward or a-way from an object or idea empliasized by it, because 
 this (as explicitly or implicitly contrasted with sometliing that is to 
 he or has been mentioned) is conceived of as in itself — 
 
 § 49. ANTICIPATIVE ; e.g. Instead of a long and bloody war 
 for restoration of privileges, for redrfiss of grievances, for chartered 
 immunities, held under a British king, ^^^ 
 
 The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 
 ■ I The playful children just let loose from school; 
 
 ^ I The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, 
 
 '^ I And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; 
 
 g I These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
 
 fi I And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 
 
 P^ I 
 ^ ■ The gay will laugh 
 
 When thou art gone ; the solemn brood of care 
 Plod on, and each one as before will chase 
 His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave 
 Their mirth and their employments, and shall come. 
 And make their bed with thee. 
 
 ■fS 
 
 His lordship's orthography is a little loose, but several of 
 rt \ his equals countenance tbe custom. Lord Loggerhead always 
 o spells physician with an ¥'. 
 
 *S / In sarcasm, — So you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs. 
 
 In concessions. — There are wild theories abroad. I will 
 not say I have none. (-See § 212.) 
 
 In repeated "words that introduce no importance, etc., 
 into the sense. — Fellow-citizens, the enemy have come and we 
 must march against them. They have come, fellow-citizens, to 
 ^ \ desolate our fields. They have come to sack our cities. 
 
 § 51. INDECISIVE; e.g., I know not what course others 
 may take, ^^ 
 
 Of which the positive is sometimes expressed. — Men are 
 not gods, but properly are brutes. 
 
 ejD \ Sometimes only implied. — Thou canst not be relentless. 
 
 It certainly would be a strange thing if this were true, and 
 all the efforts of the past should prove to have been in vain. 
 
 Therefore in supplication. — 
 
 •§ j Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, Thekla! 
 
 fl / O God ! I cannot leave this spot — I cannot ! 
 
 ,2 f Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla! 
 
 That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced 
 
 That I cannot act otherwise. 
 
 (See §§ 212, 213, 215.) 
 
CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 51 
 
 § 48. FALLING INFLECTION.— Closing the sense, where tho 
 thought is conclusive, and the expression ol it decisive, points 
 out specifically an object or idea emphasized by it, because this, 
 irrespective of anything else that is to be or has been mentioned, is 
 conceived of as in itself — 
 
 §50. CONCLUSIVE; e. g. "^® set before them the glorious 
 object of entire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the 
 breath of life. 
 
 f^ I How often have I paused on every charm, 
 
 g / The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, 
 
 ■g / The never-failing brook, the busy mill, 
 
 ® / The decent chiirch that topt the neighboring hill, 
 
 © I The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, 
 
 "^ For talking age and whispering lovers made. 
 
 Look to your hearths, my lords — 
 "g I For there henceforth shall sit, as household gods, 
 
 _g \ Shapes hot from Tartarus — all shames and crimes — 
 
 g I Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn — 
 
 p, I Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup — 
 
 Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe. 
 Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones; 
 Till Anarchy come down on you like night. 
 And massacre seal Rome's eternal grave. (§ 213.) 
 
 >» / Clearness, force and earnestness are the qualities which 
 
 5 / produce conviction. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist 
 o I in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning 
 ^ I may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases 
 ^ I may be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. 
 £ I It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. 
 ^ » It comes, if it come at all, like tlie outbreaking of a fountain 
 
 from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires witi 
 
 spontaneous, original, native force. 
 
 § 52. DECISIVE : e. g. =^a but, as for me, give me lil 
 erty or give me death. 
 
 g / 7n assertion. — I hate him, for he is a Christian: 
 
 ^ ' But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
 
 d I He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 
 S \ The rate of iisance here with us in Venice. 
 
 He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate. 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift. 
 
 <1 
 
 > 
 
 Advocation. — Let every man bear in mind, it is nM only 
 his own person, but his wife and children, he must now defend. 
 
 Therefore in command. — Fret, till your proud heart break; 
 § \ Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
 
 Pi \ And make your bondmen tremble. 
 
 (See §§ 211-12, esp. Nos. 1, 3, 5, 7, 11, 12; § 215, and selections following.) 
 
52 orator's manual. 
 
 The Motive, not the Phraseology, as the Criterion 
 of the Rising Inflection. 
 
 53. The inflection depends on the motive of the mind in using it, 
 not on the verbal or grammatical form used. 
 
 The follow^ing are mentally anticipative, indecisive, nega- 
 tive, questionable, etc. 
 
 55. The conditional mood usually expresses what is antici- 
 pative, indecisive, subordinate, etc.; e. g. If he has done that, he 
 shall sufi'er for it. 
 
 If that the face of men. 
 The sufferance of our souls, the times abuse, 
 If these be motives weak, break off" betimes. 
 
 57. The imperative mood may express what is anticipative, 
 subordinate, etc. (§ 211:11); e. g. Be true to yourself: you will suc- 
 ceed. 
 
 Look to it; 
 Consider, William : take a month to think. 
 And let me have an answer to my wish; 
 Or by the Lord that made me, you shall pack. 
 
 59. A negative is usually anticipative and indecisive, i. e. in 
 itself merely preparatory to some following positive afiirmation; e. g. 
 
 Not only around our infancy 
 
 Doth heaven with all its splendors lie ; ^W° 
 
 Is mere animal life entitled to be called good ? Certainly not. 
 There is no good in mere animal life. 
 
 An assertion may be indecisive, expressing what is anticipative 
 (§ 212:28), negative, questionable, etc.; e. g. 
 
 I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
 Who, as you know, are honorable men. 
 
 61. A question is usually anticipative (of an answer), express- 
 ing what is indecisive and really questionable (§ 212). 
 
 What! acting on this vague abstraction, are you prepared to 
 enforce a law, without considering whether it be just or unjust, con- 
 stitutional or unconstitutional ? Will you collect money when it is 
 acknowledged that it is not wanted ? 
 
 Does any man, in his senses, believe that this beautiful structure, 
 this harmonious aggregate of states, produced by the joint consent 
 of all, can be preserved by force? 
 
 The direct question (first time), seeking for information; e. g. 
 Did you see that lady ? 
 
CONTRASTED I^-FLECTIONS. 53 
 
 The Motive, not the Phraseology, as the Criterion 
 of the Falling Inflection. 
 
 . 54, The same phraseology may be clifFerently inflected, according 
 to the idea that the mind is moved to express by it. 
 
 The following are mentally conclusive, decisive, aflB.rmative, 
 positive, etc. 
 
 56. The conditional mood may express what is positively af- 
 firmed or believed; e. g. If he has done that, he should siiflfer for it. 
 
 But if these 
 (As I am sure they do) bear fire enough 
 To kindle cowards and to steel with valor 
 The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, 
 What need we any spur but our own cause ? 
 
 58. The imperative mood usually expresses what is conclu- 
 sive, decisive, positive, etc. (§ 312); e. g. Be true to yourself, 
 whether you succeed or not. 
 
 Rouse, ye Romans; rouse, ye slaves. 
 Awake, arise, or be forever fallen. 
 Let every man stand by his gun. 
 60. A negative may express a conclusive, decisive, positive 
 affirmation (§ 215); e. g. 
 
 •"^g Daily, with souls that cringe and plot, 
 We Sinais climb, and know it not. 
 
 Thou shalt not st&al! No, gentlemen, the remembrance of their 
 folly will not pass to posterity. There is no retreat but in submission 
 and slavery. There would, without obedience, be no kindred to 
 create a home; no law to create a state; there would be no con- 
 science to inspire right; no faith to apprehend religion. 
 
 62. A question may express a decisive, positive affirmation, 
 which, in the speaker's opinion, is more important than the answer 
 it anticipates {§ 211: 5; §§ 212-218); e. g. 
 
 Why, what make you h&re ? 
 Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? 
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? 
 
 Who, then, is Paul, and who is Apdllos, [I point them out as 
 interesting in themselves; and affirm that they are] but ministers 
 by whom ye belit^ved ? 
 
 The direct question (repeated), conveying information; e. g. 
 Did you see that lady? i. e. I affirm I spoke of that lady; did you 
 s^e her? 
 
54 orator's manual. 
 
 The Motive, not the Phraseology. — Continued. 
 
 The indirect question, seeking for information; e. g. When 
 are you going to Boston? i. e. Are you going? — when? 
 
 The negative question may express that it is questionable 
 whether others will agree with the speaker; e. g. Is she not beauti- 
 ful? 
 
 Would they not feel their children tread, 
 With clanking chains, above their head? 
 
 But did not Chance at length her error mend? 
 Did no subverted empire mark his end ? 
 
 The double question, containing no affirmation, — the whole 
 answer questionable; e. g. Shall we go to the store or hotel? Y(^s, 
 to the store; or No, let us stay h^re. 
 
 "Who is the greater?" says the German moralist; "the wise 
 man who lifts himself above the storms of time, and from aloof 
 looks down upon them, and yet takes no part therein; 01^°° 
 
 Contrasted Motives with same Phraseology; 
 
 Rising Inflection. 
 
 63. The anticipative, indecisive, subordinate, insignificant, trite, 
 questionable, negative, respectively lead us to express: 
 
 Hesitation, in view of the inexperienced : There's a path 
 through the woods here. 
 
 Uncertainty, in view of the douhtful : It must be so. 
 
 Faint praise, in view of the mediocre: He declaims very 
 well. 
 
 Indifference, in view of mere formality : How do you do? 
 
 Disapprobation, in view of the evil : John has returned home. 
 
 Discontent, in view of the limited : You see all there is left. 
 
 Sorrow, in view of the painful. 
 
 Commiseration, in view of the unfortunate : 
 
 'Tis but the falling of a withered leaf, 
 The breaking of a shell — 
 The rending of a veil. 
 
 65. Series of Words, each appropriately |^* 
 
 If all the words together are conceived of as expressing only one 
 general idea, the voice falls on the last word only; i. e. all together 
 are uttered like one word of many syllables. 
 
 Knowledge, truth, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone give vital- 
 ity to the mechanism of existence. 
 
COXTRASTED IXFLECTI0J5"S. 55 
 
 The Motive, not the Phraseolog-y. — Continued. 
 
 The indirect question, asserting a belief; e. g. When are you 
 going to Boston? i. e. You are going; — when'? 
 
 The negative question iisualli/ expresses a positive belief that 
 others will agree with the speaker; e, g. Is she not beautiful? 
 
 "Why, then, sir, do we not, as soon as possible, change this from 
 a civil to a national war? And since we must fight it through, why 
 not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the benefits of victoiy, if we 
 gain the victory ? 
 
 The double question, containing an aflBrmation, — part of the 
 answer positively known; e. g. Shall we go to the store or hotel? 
 As we are going somewhere, let us go to the hotel. 
 
 The falling part of a double question usually asserts the ques- 
 tioner's opinion, as in this, continued from the opposite page: 
 
 =^g or he who, from the height of quiet and repose, throws 
 himself boldly into the battle-tumiilt of the world? " 
 
 Contrasted Motives with, same Phraseology ; 
 
 Falling Inflection. 
 
 64. The conclusive, decisive, interesting, important, noteworthy, 
 affirmative, positive, respectively lead us to express: 
 
 Readiness, in view of the experienced : There's a path 
 through the woods here. 
 
 Assurance, in view of the certain : It miist be so. 
 
 Commendation, in view of the excellent : He declaims very 
 well. 
 
 Respect, in view of hearty esteem : How do you do. 
 
 Approbation, m view of the good : John has returned home. 
 
 Content, in view of the abundant : You see all there is l&ft. 
 
 Joy, in view of the pleasurable, 
 
 Conger atulation, in view of the fortunate : 
 
 Welcome her, all things useful and sweet; 
 Scatter the blossoms under her feet. 
 Break, happy land, into earher flowers. 
 
 •^^g ending with Falling Inflection. 
 
 If each word is conceived of as expressing a specific idea, the 
 voice falls on each. 
 
 Mr. President, and fellow-citizens — at the opening of a speech. 
 
 Knowledge, triith, love, beauty, goodness, faith, alone give vital- 
 ity to the mechanism of existence. 
 
56 orator's manual. 
 
 Our own selfishness, our own neglect, our own passions, and our 
 own vices, will furnish the elements of our destruction. 
 
 66. Series of Clauses of the same Construction, \^- 
 Where a connecting conjunction {and, or) before the last clause 
 
 shows that the mind anticipates that the series is about to be 
 brought to a close : 
 
 If the series closes the sentence, the voice usually rises on the 
 clause next to the last. 
 
 It should be the labor of a genuine and noble patriotism to raise 
 the life of a nation to the level of its privileges; to harmonize its 
 general practice with its abstract principles; to reduce to actual facts 
 the ideals of its institutions; to elevate instruction into knowledge; 
 and to deepen knowledge into wisdom. 
 
 If it does not close the sentence, the voice usually rises on the 
 last clause. 
 
 The causes of good and evil are so various and uncertain, so often 
 entangled with each other, so diversified by various relations, and so 
 much subject to accidents which cannot be foreseen, that he who 
 would fix his condition upon incontestible reasons of preference must 
 live and die inquiring and deliberating. (See § 2 15.) 
 
 Circumflex or Wave, ending with Rising Inflection. 
 
 67. Used w^hen a subordinate motive is to point out spe- 
 cifically an object or idea as in itself interesting, important, 
 notev^orthy, positive, affirmative, conclusive, decisive, etc.; 
 but when the main motive is to point forward or atvay from 
 it to something else that is to be or has been mentioned in 
 connection with it. The wave thus suggests the double 
 relation of words used in cases of 
 
 69. Comparison; i. e. in illustrations, similes, metaphors, 
 etc. (see §218-19); e. g. 
 
 Was not Abraham [we need to anticipate in our inflection what 
 is to be said about Abraham, yet we need also to point him out as 
 Abraham. We combine the two thus:] Abraham, our father, justi- 
 fied by works when he had offered Isaac, his son, upon the altar? 
 
 Notice how, when one turns off from a straightforward course 
 of thought to find an illustration, this wavering inflection represents 
 his motive: 
 
 And in the same house rem3,in, eating and drinking such things 
 Note.— This last sentence is continued on page 58. 
 
COKTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 57 
 
 Our own selfishness, our own neglect, our own passions, and our 
 own vices, will furnish the elements of our destruction. 
 
 -"^H each appropriately ending with Falling Inflection. 
 
 Where the absence of a connecting- conjunction before the last 
 clause shows that the mind does not anticipate that the series is 
 about to be brought to a close : 
 
 If the series closes the sentence, the voice may fall on the clause 
 next to the last. 
 
 He only is advancing in life whose heart is getting softer, whose 
 blood warmer, whose brain quicker, whose spirit is entering into 
 living peace. 
 
 If it does not close the sentence, the voice may fall on the last 
 clause. 
 
 The laugh of mirth that vibrates through the h^art, the t^ars 
 that freshen the diy wastes within, the music that brings childhood 
 back, the prayer that calls the f iiture near, the doubt which makes 
 us m&ditate, the death which startles us with mystery, the hard- 
 ship which forces us to striiggle, the anxiety that ends in tri!ist, — 
 are the triie nourishments of our natural being. [See § 215.) 
 
 Circumflex or Wave, ending with Falling Inflection. 
 
 68. Used when the main motive is to point out specifically 
 an object or idea as in itself interesting, important, note- 
 worthy, positive, affirmative, conclusive, decisive, etc.; but 
 when a subordinate motive is to point foncard also or aicaij 
 from it to something else that is to be or has been men- 
 tioned in connection with it. The wave thus suc^crests the 
 double relation of words used in cases of 
 
 70. Comparison; i. e. in illustrations, similes, metaphors, 
 etc. {see §218-19); e. g. 
 
 Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins 
 [we need to point out virgins with this inflection, yet the likeness is 
 to ten virgins which took, etc. We need, also, this anticipative up- 
 ward inflection, so we combine the two] virgins which took their 
 lamps and went into a far country. 
 
 The graves of the best of men, of the noblest martyrs, are like 
 the graves of the Herrnhuters (the Moravian brethren) — level, and 
 undistinguishable from the universal earth ; and if the earth could 
 Note.— This last sentence is continued on page 59. 
 
58 orator's manual. 
 
 as they give, for the laborer is worthy of his hire. Go not from house 
 to house. 
 
 The wave may be contiaued through an illustrative passage 
 (§ 21), if this be short: 
 
 They are like unto children, sitting m the market-place, and 
 calling one to another, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye 
 have not danced; we have mourned to you, and ye have not wept. 
 
 71. Contrast, i. e. Antithesis, expressed [see § 213); e. g. 
 
 Are all these innovations to be made in order to increase the 
 influence of the executive [pointing away to the word popular] 
 power, and is nothing to be done in favor of the popular part of the 
 Constitution ? 
 
 Implied; e. g. 
 
 What! in such an hour as this, can it be that people of high 
 rank, and professing high principles, that they or their families 
 should seek to thrive on the spoils of misery, and fatten on the meals 
 wrested from industrious poverty? 
 
 'Tis not my tr^de. When men are brave the sickle is a sp^ar. 
 
 73. Where there is a contrast between the motive and 
 the phraseology, i;^" 
 
 In the imperative moodj e. g. Never fear that, if he be so 
 resolved. 
 
 In questions; e. g. Where grows? And you mean to say you 
 don't know? 
 
 In cases in which the mind is wavering between a positive and 
 negative expression, i. e. in doubt and uncertainty: 
 
 Tell. Look upon my boy ! what mean you ? Look upon 
 My boy, as though I guessed it! Guessed the trial 
 You'd have me make! 
 
 1^=' The circumflex in comparisons and contrasts is well 
 
 given when slightly given. Don't make it too distinct. 
 
 74. Double Motives, i. e. contrast between a real 
 and an assumed motive, i^^ 
 
 1st Clo. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers 
 and grave-makers; they hold up Adam's profession. 
 
 2d Clo. Was he a gentleman? 
 
 1st Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 
 
 2d Clo. Why, he had none. 
 
 1st Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the 
 
 Scripture? The Scripture says, Adam digged. Could he dig with- 
 out arms ? 
 
CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS. 59 
 
 give up her secrets, our whole globe would appear a Westmin- 
 ster Abbey laid flat. 
 
 John does everything backward. He is the dorsal fin of human- 
 ity. He is a human obliquity. He might have attended a school for 
 crabs. In fact, he is one of Crabb's synonyms, 
 
 72. Contrast, i, e. Antithesis, expressed or implied {see § 149: 
 b, c; also, § 213j; e. g. 
 
 It is these [as contrasted with other implied things pointed to] 
 which I love and venerate in England. I should feel ashamed of an 
 enthusiasm for Italy [pointing away to this] or Greece, did I not also 
 feel it for a land like this. In an American, it would seem to me 
 degenerate and ungrateful to hang with passion upon the traces of 
 Homer and Virgil, and follow, without emotion, the nearer and 
 plainer footsteps of Virgil and Milton. 
 
 It is not so far as a man doubts, but so far as he believes, that he 
 can achieve or perfect anything. All things are possible to him that 
 believeth. 
 
 ■='^g the circumflex suggests the idea usually conveyed 
 
 by the phraseology. 
 
 In the conditional mood ; e. g. See if one of them will dare to 
 lift his arm up m your cause if I forbid them. 
 
 In negations and questions ; e. g. 
 
 There is not a man among you all 
 
 Who can reproach me that I used my power 
 
 To do him an injustice. 
 
 By that sin fell the angels; how can m^n, then, 
 The imao'e of his Maker, hope to win by it? 
 
 You do not nif'an — no — no — 
 You would not have me makp a trial of 
 My skill upon my child! Impossible! 
 
 °^^ i. e. in Double Entendre, insincere expressions, 
 jesting, ridicule, irony, sarcasm, mockery. {See § 213.) 
 
 You meant no harm: oh, no: your thoughts are innocent; you 
 have nothing to hide; your breast is pure, stainless, all truth. 
 
 yes, he is a man of honor, indeed ! His words and deeds 
 show it. He would be a gain to our Society. 
 
 It isn't the secret I care about; it's the slight, Mr. Caudle. Man 
 and wife indeed! I should like to know how that can be when a 
 man's a mason, — when he keeps a secret that sets him and his wife 
 apart. 
 
60 oratoe's manual. 
 
 75. Starting Key of the Slide, or Slide Balance. 
 
 As contrasted with tke syllable or syllables immediately 
 preceding it — 
 
 Ordinarily, the voice descends to start a rising inflec- 
 tion on a lower key, and ascends to start a falling inflection 
 on a higher key ; but 
 
 Occasionally, for the sake of variety, and always at 
 the end of a speech, paragraph or sentence that sums up 
 or concludes a particular phase of the subject under con- 
 sideration, the voice ascends to start a rising inflection on 
 a higher key, and descends to start a falling inflection on 
 a lower key. (See §§ 82, 83.) 
 
 In other words, the Emphatic Slide should ordinarily be so 
 inserted as to cause its beginning and end to balance (hence the 
 term used in this book) equally above and below the line of the gen- 
 eral movement ; thus, 
 
 not ^ ' ' or ^ ^ ^ 
 
 76. a. Reasons. Slides begun rightly do not interrupt the 
 onward flow of the general movement. Therefore, in connection 
 with regularly recurring pauses or rhythm, this way of starting 
 rising inflections low, and falling inflections high, causes that impor- 
 tant factor in holding the attention of an audience called drift 
 (§ 154). All successful speakers manifest this characteristic when 
 excited. The trained elocutionist should manifest it at all times. 
 
 In the following, falling inflections can be given on all the words 
 marked (§ 50) without interfering at all with the buoyancy and 
 swing of the general movement : 
 
 When Freedom, from her mountain height, 
 
 Unfarl'd her standard to the air. 
 She tore the azure robe of night, 
 
 And set the stars of glory there ; 
 She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
 The milky baldric of the skies. 
 And striped its piire, celestial white 
 With streakings of the morning light ; 
 
CONTRASTED INFLECTIONS 61 
 
 Then from his mansion in the sun 
 She cull'd her eagle-bearer down, 
 And gave into his mighty hand 
 The symbol of her chosen land. 
 
 b. Again, ease and audibleness (especially in bringing out 
 distinctly the word emphasized by the downward inflection) are 
 both facilitated by starting to slide the voice up from a compara- 
 tively low key, and to slide it down from a comparatively Idgh key. 
 
 c. Besides this, the downward movement indicates, as we 
 have found (§ 43 : e), an affirmation of positive importance. When 
 used, therefore, on the syllables preceding or starting the rising in- 
 flection, it arrests attention by suggesting an affirmative state of 
 mind, dealing with something of positive importance, notwithstand- 
 ing the negative or questioning significance of the inflection itself. 
 Again, the upward movement of the voice indicates anticipation, 
 subordination (§43 : d), etc. When used, therefore, on the syllables 
 preceding or starting the falling inflection, it holds the attention 
 by suggesting that something of still greater importance is to folloiv, 
 notwithstanding the relative importance of that now emphasized by 
 the inflection itself. Every one recognizes that the downward 
 inflection started high is not the concluding w^ord of a speech 
 or paragraph, but if started low, the clause or sentence that it 
 ends seems to be isolated from what is to follow. 
 
 d. But occasionally, at the end of a speech, paragraph or 
 sentence that sums up or concludes a particular phase of a subject, 
 the rising or falling of syllables preceding the one on w^hich the 
 inflection starts serves to increase the effect of its rising or falling 
 emphasis. 
 
 77. As accent is an elementary form of emphasis, the principles 
 stated apply to it. Ordinarily, in a passage where there is a gen- 
 eral tendency to rising inflections, the accented syllable is on a lower 
 key than it would be if it were unaccented, and where there is a 
 tendency to falling inflections it is on a higher key. But occasion- 
 ally, as in the case of the emphatic inflection, this condition is re- 
 versed. 
 
 a. Here all the rising inflections start on a lower key than the 
 preceding syllable : 
 
 =J^ 
 
 
 Is any man so weak as now 
 
 to hope for a reconciliation with. England, which shall leave 
 either safety to the country and its liberties, or safety to his 
 
62 OIIATOP/S MANUAL. 
 
 bwn life and liis 6wn honor ? Are not you, sir, who sit in 
 that chair, — is not he, onr venerable colleague near you, — 
 are not both already proscribed and predestined objects of 
 punishment and of vengeance ? 
 
 b. Here all the falling inflections start on a higher key than the 
 preceding syllable : 
 
 I Bay God bless ad - vers - i - ty 
 
 when it is properly understood ! But the rock upon which 
 men and upon which nations split is pkosperity. This man 
 says that we have grown to be a giant, and that we may de- 
 part from the wisdom of our youth. But I say that now is 
 the time to take care ; we are great enough ; let us be satis- 
 fied ; prevent the growth of our ambition, to prevent our 
 pride from swelling, and hold on to what we have got. 
 
 c. Here the last rising inflection is started on a higher key than 
 the preceding syllable : 
 
 Shall I compare myself, almost born, and certainly bred, 
 in the tent of my father, that illustrious commander, — my- 
 self, the conqueror not only of the Alpine nations but of the 
 Alps thejnselves, — myself, who was the piipil of yon all, 
 before I became your commander, — to this six months' 
 greneral ? or shall I 
 
 compare his ar-my witli mine? 
 
 d. Here the last falling inflection is started on a lower key than 
 the preceding syllable : 
 
 We yielded to their prayers for pardon; we released 
 them from the blockade; we made peace with them when 
 conquered, and we afterward held them under our protec- 
 tion when they were borne 
 
 down by 
 
 e. Here the rising inflection on nations begins on a higher key, 
 and the falling one on ours on a lower key, than the preceding 
 syllable : 
 
 Shall 1 be told these are idle fears ? That in a war with 
 Russia, no matter for what cause waged, we must be the 
 
MELODY. 63 
 
 victors? That, in short, 411 Etirope combined could not bl6t 
 this tJnion from the map of nations? Ah, sir, that is not all 
 I fear. I fear success even more than defeat. The Senator 
 from Michioran was rio-ht when he said that our fears were 
 to be found at home. I do fear ourselves. Commit our peo- 
 ple 6nce to unnecessary foreign wars, — let victory encour- 
 age the military spirit, already too prevalent among them, 
 — and Roman history will have no chapter bloody enough 
 to be transmitted to posterity side by side with ohrs. 
 
 Read exercises in §§ 211, 213, with special reference to this sub- 
 ject, especially Nos. 5, '7, 12, 28; also §§ 215, 219, 220, and § 218. 
 
 MELODY. 
 
 78. Before considerinsr the significance of Melody (§ 92) let us 
 notice the connection between it and the subject just considered. 
 
 a. If the mental requirements underlying the pauses, inflections, 
 and keys on which the inflections start, are understood and applied, 
 there is usually little occasion to study the subject of Melody, so 
 far as concerns the j^hysical effect prvduced on the ear hy the success- 
 ive notes of the voice. Now and then, however, a pupil, in order to 
 cure a tendency to monotony, needs to study 
 
 The Emphatic Slides as Related to Melody. 
 
 79. Where the Melody needs to be greatly variedL, 
 as ill light, gay, lively, uncontrolled passages, the unemphatic 
 syllables should gradually ascend the scale (in degrees differ- 
 ing according to the degree of emphasis to be given) to reach 
 an emphatic slide that starts higher than the general pitch; 
 and descend it to reach one that starts lotver than the general 
 pitch. 
 
 
 — 1 T^is — ; 1 1 ~| 1- 
 
 ^N^ 
 
 — ^- 
 
 ^ — ' — ^ J 
 
 ^ * 1 
 
 Go 
 
 a - way : I tell you to go 
 
 a - way ! 
 
 
 
 J ^ ^ ^_i ^ ^ _ 
 
 =q_I_:z=: 
 
 Can we not go, and go to - day ? 
 
 a. In an ascending passage, the accented syllable is usually 
 at the same pitch as the syllable preceding* it; in a descending one, 
 at the same pitch as the syllable following it; e. g. 
 
 Are you go - iug there to-day? 
 
 W m- m — ~^' — 
 
 I am go - ing there to-day. 
 
64 orator's manual. 
 
 80. Where the Melody does not need to be greatly 
 varied, as in grave, dignified discourse {See Monotone, §§ 
 93-95), the unemphatic stjllahles should he kept, to a great 
 extent, on one key. The ascent of the voice from that key 
 to begin downward inflections and accents, and its descent to 
 begin upward ones, will afford sufficient variety. {See § 109 ) 
 
 Are bulwarks like these ever constrtacted to rep^l the 
 incursions of a contemptible enemy? Was it a trivial and 
 ordinary occasion which raised this storm of indignation in 
 the Parliament of that day? Is the 6cean ever lashed by 
 the tempest to waft a feather or to dr6wn a^y? By this 
 ^ct you have a solemn legislative declaration " that it is in- 
 compatible with liberty to send any subject out of the realm 
 under pretense of any crime supposed or alleged to be com- 
 mitted in a foreign jurisdiction, except that crime be cap- 
 ital? 
 
 Read, also, in the same way, the passages in § 77: b, c, d, e, f; 
 §§ 94, 95; also, § 211-220: 1, 5, 7, 12, and parts of all in § 215. 
 
 81. But not more than three successive unemphatic or emphatic 
 (though separated by intervening unemphatic) syllables should be 
 sounded at precisely the same pitch, otherwise there will be mo- 
 notony. 
 
 82. The Triad of the Cadence. At least the last three 
 syllables ending a speecli, paragraph or sentence that sums up 
 or concludes a particular phase of a subject under consider- 
 ation must gradually rise ivlth a rising and fall with a fall- 
 ing inflection. {See §§ 75-77.) 
 
 Did you say they had all gone off? 
 
 :=t 
 
 Of course they have all gone off. 
 
 The only explanation that needs to be g'iven of this principle 
 (aside from' that in §§ 75-77, which see,) is that the ear requires it. 
 A similar requirement leads to the following: 
 
 83. The Emphatic Triad of the Climax. At least the 
 last three (and sometimes more) emphatic ivords of an ascend- 
 ing series of clauses must gradually ascend the scale; and 
 the last three of a descending series must gradually descend 
 the scale. 
 
MELODY. 65 
 
 1. If I were an Am6rican,^ as I am an Englishmait,* 
 while a foreign troop was landed in my country,^ I never^ 
 would lay down my arms! — never /'^ Ki:VER! kever!^" 
 
 2. Who brands me on the f 6 reliead,^ breaks my SWOed,'' 
 Or lays the bloody scourge upon my BACK,^ 
 "Wrongs me not Jidlf^ so much as he who shuts 
 
 The gates of HOXOR^ on me, — turning out 
 The Roman from his BIKTHRIGIIT.' 
 
 a. The gradual descent in Pitch, is the important factor in 
 this Melody of the Cadence or Climax. It we bear this in 
 mind, we shall avoid the artificial wave-like movement of the 
 voice often heard upon the stage and amonc^ young- declaimers, 
 arising from a supposition that they must invariably slide the tones 
 up on the next to the last emphatic word. But often the sense will 
 not warrant this. Notice how much weaker these two sentences 
 become when the voice rises on life and God; or, if call and vision 
 be taken as the emphatic words next to the last, notice how much 
 weaker is a decided upward inflection on these words than is a 
 merely suspended inflection : 
 
 1. The only principles of jDublic c6nduct which are 
 worthy of a gentleman or a man, are to sacrifice estate, 
 health, ease, applause, and even life, at the sacred call of 
 his country. 
 
 2. If you could endow the smallest insect with the sense 
 of the beautiful and the infinite, this imperceptible atom 
 would comprehend eternity, and would see God, and this 
 vision would render it immortal. 
 
 84. Long sentences may contain long clauses, and within these 
 short clauses. And the emphatic ivords in the long clauses may 
 gradually ascend or descend the scale relatively to one another ; so, 
 too, the suhordinately emphatic words in the short clauses. In the 
 following the emphatic words printed in similar type gradually 
 ascend or descend the scale relatively to one another. 
 
 When my eyes shall be ttirned to behold, for the 14st 
 time, the sun in the heaven, may I not see him shining on 
 the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious 
 Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; — on 
 a land rent with civil feiids, or drenched, it may be, in 
 fraternal blood! Let their 14st feeble and lingering glance 
 rather behold the g6rgeous ensign of the Republic, now 
 kn6wn and h6nored through6ut the earth, still " full high 
 advanced," — its arms and trophies streaming in their orig- 
 inal lustre, — not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single 
 3* 
 
66 oeator's manual. 
 
 star obscured; — bearing, for its motto, no slaeh miserable 
 interr6gatory ds, " What is all this ivorth?'' nor those 6ther 
 words of delilsion and folly, " Liberty /^rs^, and Union dfter- 
 tmrds,'' — but everywhere spread all 6ver, in characters 
 of living light, blazing on all its 4mple folds, as they fl6at 
 over the sea and over the LA.ND, and in every WIND linder 
 the whole HEAVEN, that OTHER sentiment, dear to every 
 true American heart, — " Liberty AND Union, n6w and for- 
 ever, one and INSfiPARABLE." 
 
 a. In long- sentences, the emphatic words usually ascend the 
 scale gradually through the introductory relative or subordinate 
 clauses, and descend it on the principle or concluding ones, as in the. 
 sentence just quoted; 
 
 b. Or else they ascend the scale till the second or third clause 
 from the end is reached, after which the voice gradually descends; e. g. 
 
 May you stand as unimpeached in honor as in power; 
 may you stand, not as a substitute for virtue, but as an 
 ornament of virtue, as a security for virtue ; may you stand 
 long, and long stand the terror of tyrants; may you stand 
 the refuge of afflicted nations; may you stand a sacred 
 temple, for the perpetual residence of an inviolable justice! 
 
 miW^ Apply these principles to all the selections in §215; and, in 
 conn'ction with this subject, study transitions, §§ 147-151; massing, 
 §§ 152, 153. 
 
 85. The Pitcli or Melody appropriate for the different 
 portions of an oration or declamation, considered as a whole, will 
 be best understood if we regard it as a development of the single 
 long emphatic sentence. At first the key should be comparatively 
 low, no higher above the level of conversation than is necessary to 
 render it audible. It should then become varied, high or low to 
 suit the various sentiments expressed. Lastly, a few sentences 
 before the close, especially in long orations, it should return again 
 to the level of conversation. This mode of closing, especially after 
 an emphatic climax, is very effective. 
 
 The Unemphatic Slides as Related to Melody. 
 86. On unemphatic syllables we use 
 
 a. Discrete tones. These are separate from one another, like 
 the notes of a piano, and each is sounded wholly on one key. They 
 are used in syllables of short sharp quantity ; e. g. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — 
 No ! no ! no ! 
 
 b. Concrete tones. These glide into one another like the 
 notes of a violin, and each passes over an interval of a tone or 
 
MELODY. 
 
 67 
 
 half-tone. They are used in syllables of medium or long quantity ; 
 e. g. Are you all there ? 
 
 These tones are natural to the voice; but the flexibility of the 
 organs, that comes from practicing the general exercises (§§ 8-14) 
 will improve the quality of them. 
 
 87. XJnempliatic concrete tones (because unemphatic, 
 § 43: d) slide up the scale, except at the end of a clause or sen- 
 tence whose main inflection is downward. There the tones slide 
 down the scale and receive initial stress (§ 100: b). 
 
 ^--^^-w->^ 
 
 I said he was a - way from home, not pre's - ent. 
 
 An upward slide on home would give us one characteristic of a min- 
 isterial tone; and any stress there except initial would give us a 
 drawl. 
 
 a. Sometimes the upward slide of an unemphatic syllable is 
 wrono-ly made on every emphatic one as a preliminary to its fall- 
 in g infl ection, which thus becomes circumflex; e. g. They are gone. 
 ^^f^^^^^ The drawling monotony resulting is usually cured by 
 • • ! ■ r— learning to give such inflections with a short, sharp 
 initial stress; e. g. They are gone; ~ »^^ - or with an abrupt 
 terminal stress (§ 101). E^fzi 
 
 88. Diatonic Melody results where the unemphatic 
 concrete syllables in a passage slide over an interval of a 
 whole musical tone (diatonic), and the emphatic syllables 
 over an interval of at least two musical tones. It is used 
 in all ordinary statements and arguments, especially when 
 referring to occurrences and objects that are pleasing. 
 
 a. To cultivate it, where it is lacking, read pieces expressive of 
 light and joyous sentiments, as in §92: a, b, c; §§221-223, 227; 
 also pieces requiring vehemence, as in §§ 211, 218. 
 
 89. Semitonic or Chromatic Melody results when 
 the unemphatic concrete syllables in a passage slide over an 
 interval of only half a musical tone, and the emphatic sylla- 
 bles over an interval usually of a tone and a half, forming 
 what musicians term a minor cadence. (§46: note.) 
 
 a. This kind of melody gives us the tone popularly called plain- 
 tive. It is heard in ordinary crying; and, like it, springs from a 
 consciousness of inherent weakness in one's self, or sympathy for it 
 
68 orator's mantal. 
 
 in others, such as to interfere with the ordinary strength and elas- 
 ticity of utterance. Semitonic melody is used in expressing the sub- 
 dued forms of grief; subjectively for regret, contrition, complaint, 
 supplication; objectively for tender sympathy/, commiseration and 
 piti/. In comedy, it expresses a travesty of these emotions. 
 
 90. In the pulpit, at the bar, and in ordinary reading-, it should 
 be avoided when there is no pathos in the sentiment. Break up 
 the habit by reading pieces in Diatonic Melody, expressive of very 
 light, joyous or vehement sentiments. (§ 88: a.) 
 
 91. The following passages demand Semitonic Melody; also 
 all the selections in § 228. 
 
 Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes 
 of Arabia v^ill not sv^eeten this little hand. 6h! oh! 
 6b! 
 
 Jiidge, you gods, hov^r dearly Caesar loved him! 
 
 This v^as the most nnkindest cut of all; 
 
 For, v^hen the noble Caesar saw him stab, 
 
 Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms. 
 
 Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart: 
 
 And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 
 Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
 
 Which all the vv^hile ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
 
 Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen! 
 
 Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, 
 
 While bloody treason flourished over us. 
 
 One more unfortunate, 
 
 Weary of breath, 
 Rashly importunate. 
 
 Gone to her death! 
 
 Take her up tenderly, 
 
 Lift her with care; 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 
 Yoiing, and so fair! 
 
 *' It's time for me to go to that there berryin'-ground, 
 sir," he rettirns, with a wild look. 
 
 "Lie down, and tell me. What burying-ground, Jo?" 
 
 "Where they laid him as wos wery good to me; wery 
 
 good to me, indeed, he wos. It's time fur me to go down 
 
 to that there berryin'-ground, sir, and ask to be put along 
 
 with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used fur 
 
MELODY. 69 
 
 to say to me, ' I am as^ poor as yOu, to-day, Jo,' he sez. I 
 wants to tell him that I am as poor as him, now, and have 
 come there to be laid along with him." 
 
 92. Varied and Unvaried Melody. Light, gaij, 
 
 lively, uncontrolled moods or motives find expression in a 
 
 melody comparatively varied; serious, grave, dignified, and 
 
 self-determined ones in a melody comparatively unvaried 
 
 {see §§ 79, 80, 32, 140-145). 
 
 Examples of this principle will be found in §§ 143, 144. Here 
 it is important to notice only the following: 
 
 a. In laughing- mirth and gayety, the light, lively mood expresses 
 itself in a melody much varied,— often in successive discrete tones, 
 given in different keys, with a light, abrupt force (§ 107: b), initial stress 
 (§ 100), and short quantity (§ 39). 
 
 Busp. Ha, ha, ha! He is a queerity, by all that's quiz- 
 zish ! 
 
 Rack. He is an insufferable bore. 
 
 Mrs. Rack. no; I think he's very amusing, now and 
 then. 
 
 Rasp. He is a traveler, I think you say. 
 
 Mrs. Rack. Poor Doctor ! The few ideas he has are al- 
 ways traveling post, and generally upon cross-roads. His 
 head is like New York on May-day, — all the furniture wan- 
 dering. 
 
 b. In astonishment, surprise and exultation the mind has not 
 yet control of itself, and expresses the fact by a melody varied on long con- 
 crete slides, accompanied by a circumflex of double meaning \ i. e. of un- 
 certainty (§ 74), mainly expulsive force, and prolonged stress and quantity; 
 sometimes, also, by an aspirated quality. 
 
 Tell. Look 
 Upon my boy! — what mean you? Look upon 
 My boy, as though I guessed it! Guessed the trial 
 You'd have me make! Guessed it 
 Instinctively! You do not mean — no — no — 
 You would not have me make a trial of 
 My skill upon my child ! Impossible ! 
 
 Albert. Father, I'm safe — 
 Your Albert's safe! Dear father, speak to me! 
 Speak to me ! 
 
70 
 
 c. In adoration and worship the seriousness of the mind necessitates 
 an unvaried melody, while its joyousness necessitates variety; hence we have 
 concrete tones, successively starting at about the same pitchy but sliding 
 slowly a long distance up and down the scale. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heav- 
 ens ; praise him in the heights. Praise ye him, all his 
 angels : praise ye him, all his hosts. Praise ye him, siin 
 and moon : praise him, all ye stars of light. Praise 
 him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above 
 the heavens. Let them praise the name of the Lord: for 
 he commanded, and they were created. He hath also stab- 
 lished them for ever and ever: he hath made a decree which 
 shall not pass. Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons, 
 and all deeps: fire and hail, snow and vapors; stormy wind 
 fulfilling his word: mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, 
 and all cedars; beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and 
 flying fowl; kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and 
 all judges of the earth; both young men, and maidens; old 
 men, and children; let them praise the name of the Lord: 
 for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth 
 and heaven. 
 
 Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise 
 him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his 
 mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent great- 
 ness. Praise him with the sound of the trumpet; praise 
 him with the psaltery and harp. Praise him with the 
 timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments 
 and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise 
 him upon the high-sounding cymbals. Let everything that 
 hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord. 
 
 {See, also, %\Q2'. 3,4,5.) 
 
 d. In contrition and penitence these concrete tones become semitonic. 
 
 Have mercy upon me, God, according to thy loving- 
 kindness: according to the multitude of thy tender mer- 
 cies, blot out my transgressions! Wash me thoroughly 
 from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I 
 acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before 
 me. Against thee, — thee only, — have I sinned, and done 
 this evil in thy sight. Hide thy face from my sins, and 
 blot out all mine iniquities! 
 
MELODY. 71 
 
 e. In horror and despair, the low, concrete tones are uttered with the 
 least possible suggestion of variety (see § 94 : 3, 4) . 
 
 The last three (c, d, and e) are given with the monotone. 
 
 93. The Monotone is caused by a repetition, more fre- 
 quent than in other cases, partly of the same key at the be- 
 ginning of emphatic or unemphatic concrete slides and 
 partly of the same sort of a median stress (§ 102) on all 
 syllables whose quantity can be prolonged. 
 
 These kinds of repetitions suggest monotony. But the voice 
 really moves up and down the scale sufficiently to answer all the re- 
 quirements of variety. Moreover, the median stress (§ 102) that may 
 make prominent either the beginning, middle or end of a concrete 
 tone, may cause this tone to appear to differ in pitch from another 
 that beg-ins on the same key, or to agree in pitch with another that 
 begins on a different key. These facts combine to allow of sufficient 
 modulation to rescue the monotone from real monotony {see, also, 
 §80). 
 
 94. The Monotone is used in almost all cases in which, 
 as already described, the general pitch is low, tending to 
 very low, and the special pitch unvaried; i. e. to express 
 that which oppresses the mind with a sense of tveight, 
 grandeur, power, majestij, splendor or siiblimitij, inspiring 
 reverence, solemnity, awe, amazement, terror or horror. 
 
 a. In such cases, whenever we speak naturally, the presence of 
 something to subdue the free exuberance of feeling ])revents variety 
 of tone. At the same time, as this presence is conceived of as ex- 
 ternal, rather than internal, — caused by grandeur without, rather 
 than by weakness within, — it does not always, though it may 
 sometimes, necessitate the wailing or plaintive effects of semitonic 
 melody. 
 
 Read 92: c, d; also the following, with a monotone, in slow time, low pitch, 
 smooth, sustained, effusive or expulsive force (§§ 106-120), orotund quality (§ 134), 
 long quantity and predominating median stress (§ 102). 
 
 1. Be merciful unto me, God, be merciful unto me: 
 for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy 
 wings will I make my refuge. 
 
 Partially semitonic. 
 
 2. And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled 
 together; and every mountain and island were moved out 
 
72 
 
 of their places. And the kings of the earth, and the great 
 men, and the ricli men, and the chief captains, and the 
 mighty men, and every bond-man, and every free-man, hid 
 themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; 
 and said to the mountains and rocks, " Fall on us and hide 
 us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and 
 from the wrath of the Lamb : for the great day of his 
 v^rath is come; and who shall be able to stand?" {See 
 § 220.) . 
 
 Idem, iDut at medium pitch, 
 
 3. 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, 
 Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth 
 
 Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; 
 Morn came, and went, and came, and brought no day, 
 And men forgot their passions, in the dread 
 Of this their desolation; and all hearts 
 Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light. 
 
 Idem, but at very low pitch, with aspirated pectoral quality (§ 129) and 
 tremulous and thorough, as well as median, stress (§§ 105, 104, 102) : 
 
 4. Methought I heard a voice cry, " Sleep no more. 
 Macbeth doth murder sleep — the innocent sleep: 
 Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, 
 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath. 
 Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course. 
 Chief nourisher in Life's feast." 
 
 Still it cried, " Sleep no more! " to all the h6use. 
 
 §§219, 220, 226, contain examples of monotone at medium pitch. Consult 
 also the passages mentioned in § 80. 
 
 95. Poetry, especially rhyme, should be read with a mono- 
 tone. In reading it thus aioid sliding the voice up perceptibly on 
 an unemphatie rhyming syllable. Give this no more than the slide 
 appropriate for an unemphatie concrete tone. Be careful, too, to 
 slide the voice downward at least two tones, and so to give a full 
 cadence whenever the sense of a clause is completed; e. g. 
 
 Middle pitch, orotund quality, long quantity, predominating median stress, 
 sustained effusive and expulsive force : 
 
 I know that age to age succeeds. 
 Blowing a noise of tongues and deeds, 
 A dust of systems and of creeds. 
 
MELODY. 73 
 
 I cannot hide that some have striven, 
 Achieving calm, to whom was given 
 The joy that mixes man with heaven: 
 
 Who, rowing hard against the stream, 
 Saw distant gates of Eden gleam, 
 And did not dream it was a dream. 
 
 Where the lamps quiver 
 
 So far in the river, 
 
 With many a light 
 
 From window and casement, 
 
 From garret to basement, 
 
 She stood, with amazement. 
 
 Houseless by night. 
 
 Forty flags with their silver stars, 
 Forty flags with their crimson bars. 
 
 Flapped in the morning wind: the sun 
 Of noon looked down, and saw not one. 
 
 Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then. 
 Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; 
 
 Bravest of all in Frederick town. 
 
 She took up the flag the men hauled down? 
 
 In her attic window the staff she set, 
 To show that one heart was loyal yet. 
 
 Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
 Flashed as they turned in air, 
 SA,bring the gunners there, 
 Charging an army, while 
 
 All the world wondered: 
 Plunged in the battery-smoke. 
 Right through the line they broke; 
 Cossack and Russian 
 Reel'd from the sabre-stroke. 
 
 Semkonic. 
 
 the famine and the fever! 
 the wasting of the famine! 
 the blasting of the fever! 
 4 
 
74 orator's manual. 
 
 All the earth was sick and famished; 
 Hungry was the air ar6und them, 
 Hungry was the sky ab6ve them, 
 And the hungry stars in heaven 
 Like the eyes of wolves glared at them! 
 
 Read also, on the different keys and with the different quality 
 marked for each, §§ 222-225. 
 
 Key. 
 
 96. Lights gay, lively or uncontrolled states of mind find 
 expression in a key comparatively high.; serious, grave, 
 dignified or self-determined states in a key comparatively 
 low. (§§ 32, 140-145.) 
 
 For illustrations of this principle see §§ 143, 144, 145-153. Prac- 
 tice the exercises in § 13. 
 
 Special attention needs to be given to the difficult matter of 
 transitions in pitch, treated in §§ 147-151, which see. 
 
 97. A common fault is to invariably fly to high 
 pitch, as well as to rapid time, when passing to a very em- 
 phatic or forcible word, even when this expresses an idea 
 relatively more serious, grave, dignified or self-deter- 
 mined. 
 
 a. The downward inflections in words like those in italics in the 
 following- examples should be started slightly, if at all, higher (and 
 sometimes lower) than the general pitch; and in all cases the voice 
 should pause before or after them, and utter them slowly. The 
 longer the pause, the higher and louder will it be proper to utter 
 the word following it. 
 
 I saw 
 The cOrse, | the mangled corse, | and then I cried 
 For vengeance! i Rouse, || ye Rdmans! | Rouse, || ye slaves! | 
 Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl 
 To see them | die. \ 
 
 I'm with you once again! — I call to you 
 With all my | voice — | I hold my hands to you, 
 To show they still are | free. \ I | rush \ to you 
 As though I could | embrace you! 
 
FORCE. 75 
 
 FORCE. 
 Special Force. 
 
 98. Special Force, by which is meant the force that is used 
 with special syllables or words, may be abrupt or smooth, loud or 
 soft. The kinds and degrees of force are considered in §§ 106-108. 
 As a rule, 
 
 a. Special Force should he used in the utterance of all 
 words that are emphasized hy pauses or inflections, or that 
 stand at the end of a sentence. (§§ 32, 35, 43, 140-145.) 
 
 b. Be particularly careful to give Special Force to Adjectives 
 emphasized by the pause that are essential to the sense of the nouns 
 that they qualify; e. g. 
 
 Its foundations, great \ truths, far more lasting than 
 mere \ granite; its pillars, great \ rights, far more beauti- 
 ful than me?'e \ porphynj; its roof, great \ hopes, swelling 
 higher than any dome of bronze and gold. 
 
 c. It is well to form a habit of giving more force to the last 
 word of a sentence, because fa) otherwise one is apt to let his force 
 subside on it, and utter it indistinctly; (b) this last word is usually 
 important to the sense; its forcible utterance (c) conveys a sugges- 
 tion of reserved power, by causing the audience to recognize that 
 the speaker's breath is not exhausted, and (d) is almost essential if 
 one is to start the last inflection of the sentence on a key suggesting 
 that another sentence is to follow (§ 75). 
 
 Stress. 
 
 99. Stress is determined by the way in which force is 
 
 applied to emphatic syllables. 
 
 3^^ Practice the different kinds of stress, according to 
 the directions in § 15. 
 
 a. Do not confound the method of stress with the degree of it. 
 All kinds of stress may be given with a soft, as well as a loud, 
 tone. 
 
 b. To use more force with an utterance necessitates using more 
 ^imewithit; therefore, words emphasized by stress usually take 
 longer time for their utterance than the words surroundmg them 
 take. 
 
76 orator's mai^ual. 
 
 c. Mental Energy indicated hy force (§ 32) may be exerted on 
 account of a subjective or an objective motive; in other words, be- 
 cause a man desires chiefly to express an idea on his own account, or 
 to impress this on others. In the former case, the sound bursts forth 
 abruptly, as if the man were conscious of nothing but his own organs 
 to prevent the accomplishment of his object; in the latter the sound 
 is pushed forth gradually, as if the man were conscious of outside 
 opposition, and of the necessity of pressing his point. These two 
 methods, and different combinations of them, give us the following 
 different kinds of stress: 
 
 100. Initial (or Radical) Stress >, usually neces- 
 sitating explosive breathing (§ 8) or utterance (§ 10), is given 
 when a syllable bursts forth abruptly, with its loudest 
 sound at the beginning of the utterance, which gradually 
 becomes more and more faint. It is used whenever one's 
 main wish is to express himself so as to he distinctly under- 
 stood. In its mildest form it serves to render articulation 
 clear and utterance precise; when stronger, it indicates bold 
 and earnest assurance^ positiveness and dictation; when 
 strongest, vehemence that sounds an alarm or gives way to 
 demonstrative indignation. 
 
 m^^ Of course the same passage may be read with different 
 kinds of stress, according to one's conception of it. No, 6 below 
 may be rendered with quick, vehement initial, or slow, determined 
 terminal stress. 
 
 Pure, moderately high, fast, 
 
 1. Give way! Zounds! I'm wild — mad! Y6u teach m^l 
 Po6h! I have been in London before, and know it requires 
 no teaching to be a modern fine gentleman. Why, it all 
 lies in a nutshell : sport a ctirricle — walk B6nd street — play 
 the dandy — sing and dance well — go to the 6pera — put on 
 your wig — pull off" your overcoat, and there's a man of the 
 first fashion in t6wn for you. D'ye think I don't know what's 
 g6ing? 
 
 Idem. 
 
 2. Why, yesterday, I asked a lad of fifteen which he 
 preferred, algebra or geometry; and he told me — oh, hor- 
 rible! — he told me he' had never studied them! Never 
 studied geometry! never studied algebra! and fifteen years 
 old! The dark ^ges are retlirning. 
 
FORCE. 77 
 
 Idem, moderately fast, medium pitch. 
 
 3. Life is short at the best; why not make it .cheerful? 
 Do you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, 
 happy habit of thought and temper? Do you know that 
 cheerfulness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing "him 
 that gives and him that takes? " 
 
 Orotund. 
 
 4. Back! beardless boy! 
 Back! minion! Holdst thou thus at naught 
 The lesson I so lately taught? 
 
 Aspirated guttural. 
 
 5. We will be revenged: revenge; ab6ut — seek — btirn, 
 fire — kill — slay! Let not a traitor live ! 
 
 Guttural and aspirated orotund, medium pitch, explosive force. 
 
 6. You speak like a boy, — like a boy who thinks the old 
 gnarled oak can be twisted as easily as the sapling. Can I 
 forget that I have been branded as an outlaw, stigmatized 
 as a traitor, a price set on my head as if I had been a wolf, 
 my family treated as the dam and cubs of the hill-fox, 
 whom all may torment, vilify, degrade and insult; the very 
 name which came to me from a long and noble line of mar- 
 tial ancestors denounced as if it were a spell to conjure up 
 the devil with? 
 
 See, also, § 217 and §§ 211, 214, 217, 219. 
 
 a. "Without initial stress, gentleness becomes an inarticulate and 
 timid drcuvl, and vehemence mere trawling bombast. With too fre- 
 quent use of it, one's deHvery becomes characterized by an appear- 
 ance of self-assertion, assurance or precise ness. 
 
 b. In order to prevent one form of what is termed a tone, ini- 
 tial stress should be g-iven to the last, word of a sentence ending 
 with a downward inflection not particularly emphatic, and therefore 
 not requiring- some other kind of stress (see ^ SI: a); e.g. on the 
 word you in the following: 
 
 There's a man of the first fashion in town for you ! 
 
 101. Terminal (Final or Vanishing) Stress <, 
 
 which may be used with both expulsive and explosive breath- 
 ing (§ 8) or utterance (§ 10), is given when a syllable 
 begins softly and gradually increases in force till it ends 
 with its loudest sound, or an explosion. It is used whenever 
 one's main wish is to impress his thoughts on others. It 
 gives utterance, in its weakest form, to the whine or coinjjlaint 
 
78 orator's manual. 
 
 of mere peevishness demanding consideration; when stronger, 
 to a pushing earnestness, persistency or determination; in its 
 strongest form, to a desire to cause others to feel one's own 
 astonishment, scorn or horror. 
 
 Pure medium pitch. 
 
 1. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather 
 like this! My gown and bonnet will be spoiled. Needn't 
 I wear 'em then? Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. 
 No, sir! I'm not going out a dowdy to please you or any- 
 body else. Gracious knows! it isn't often that I step over 
 the threshold. 
 
 Slightly aspirated orotund. 
 
 2. I did send to you 
 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; 
 For I can raise no money by vile means: 
 By heaven ! I had rather coin my heart. 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 ' From the hard hands of peasants their vile tr^sh 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 To you for gold to pay my legions. 
 Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? 
 Should I have answered Caius Cassius so? 
 
 Orotund. 
 
 3. Blaze, with your serried columns! 
 
 I will not bend the knee! 
 The shackles ne'er again shall bind 
 
 The arm which now is free. 
 I've mailed it with the thunder. 
 
 When the tempest muttered low; 
 And where it falls, ye well may dread 
 
 The lightning of its blow! 
 Idem. 
 
 4. Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of 
 those means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
 power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause 
 of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, 
 are invincible by any force which our enemy can send 
 against us. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 5. I am astonished, shdcked, to hear such principles con- 
 fessed, — to hear them avowed in this House, or even in 
 
FORCE. 79 
 
 this cotintry; — principles equally unconstittitional, inhu- 
 man, and unchristian! 
 
 strongly aspirated orotund and guttural. 
 6. Turning out 
 
 The Roman from his birthright; and for what? 
 To fling your offices to every slave — 
 Vipers that creep where man disdains to climb; 
 And having wound their loathsome track to the t6p 
 Of this huge mouldering m6nument of Rome, 
 Hang hissing at the nobler man below. 
 
 m^See, also, §§ 211-219. 
 
 a. Without terminal stress, there can be no representation of 
 childish, weakness or obstinacy, or of manly strength or res- 
 olution; used too exclusively, or excessively, it causes delivery to be 
 characterized by an appearance of willfulness, depriving it of the 
 qualities of persuasion that appeal to the sympathies. 
 
 102. Median Stress <>, used generally with effu- 
 sive but sometimes with expulsive breathing (§ 8) or ut- 
 terance (§ 10), is given when a syllable is loudest in the 
 middle of its utterance and begins and ends softly. It is 
 used whenever one's desire to impress a thought on others 
 is matched by a desire to express it on his own account. 
 That which begins, therefore, to be a Terminal Stress < 
 does not end with a loud sound or explosion, but gradually 
 subsides as it dies away in the form appropriate for Initial 
 Stress >. For this reason the Terminal Stress used in 
 most oratory passes into Median Stress in passages char- 
 acterized by strong feeling in view of the eloquence of the 
 thought {see §§ 215, 219); and the latter stress is especially 
 appropriate in uttering the language of poetry and devotion 
 {see §§ 92-95). In its effusive form it may indicate either 
 exaltation or dejection in consideration of the beautiful^ sub- 
 lime or pathetic; in its stronger, mainly expulsive form, 
 admiration, adoration, enthusiasm, self-confident command, 
 commendation or disapprobation. 
 
 Pure medium pitch.. 
 
 1. Listen closer. When you have done 
 
 With woods and cornfields and grazing herds, 
 A lady, the loveliest ever the sun 
 Looked d6wn upon, you must paint for me; 
 Ob, if I only could make you see 
 
80 oratoe's man"ual. 
 
 The clear blue eyes, the tender smile, 
 The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace, 
 The woman's soul and the angel's face, 
 
 That are beaming on me all the while! 
 
 Orotund, high, 
 
 2. joy to the people, and joy to the throne, 
 C6me to us, love us, and make us your own: 
 For Saxon or Dane or N6rman we, 
 Teuton or Celt, or whatever we be, 
 
 We are each all Dane in our welcome of thee, 
 
 Alexandra! 
 Idem, moderately high. 
 
 3. Oh! sing unto the Lord a new song; for he hath done 
 marvellous things: his right hand and his holy arm hath 
 gotten him the victory. Make a joyful noise unto the 
 Lord, all the earth: make a loud noise, and rejoice, and 
 sing praise. Sing unto the Lord with the harp; with the 
 harp, and the voice of a psalm. 
 
 Idem, low. 
 
 4. Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth; 
 and the heavens are the work of thy hands. They shall 
 perish, but thou shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax 
 old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change them, 
 and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and 
 thy years shall have no end. 
 
 Idem, moderately high. 
 
 5. Oh divine, oh delightful legacy of a spotless reputa- 
 tion! Can there be conceived a more atrocious injury than 
 to filch from its possessor this inestimable benefit; to rob 
 society of its charm, and solitude of its solace; not only to 
 outlaw life, but to attaint death, converting the verj^ grave, 
 the refuge of the sufferer, into the gate of infamy and of 
 shame? 
 
 See, also, § 92: c; §§ 95, 108, 112, 218, 219, 222-225. 
 a. This stress corresponds to the swell in music, and character- 
 izes successive words as well as sing-le ones, giving to whole passages 
 a srlidin^ and graceful as distinguished from an abrupt and harsh 
 effect. It is especially adapted for an address to the sympathies, 
 but used too exclusively it may lead to what is termed mouthing". 
 The monotonous chanting effect, sometimes called the pious tone, 
 results largely from a habit of using a long loud median in cases 
 
FORCE. 81 
 
 where terminal stress would be appropriate. In emphatic passages 
 one should be careful to stop the sound when at its loudest. 
 
 103. Compound Stress, beginning like Initial and 
 ending like Terminal >< ; and sometimes, in passages 
 characterized by Terminal Stress, both beginning and end- 
 ing like Terminal < < ; and in each form beginning loud 
 and ending loud, with its softest part in the middle, is 
 used in its first form, X, for a combination of the ideas 
 conveyed by Initial and Terminal Stress; i. e. when one 
 wishes both to express and to impress his thoughts, also for 
 vehement determination, or demonstrative astonishment or 
 horror. In both of its forms it is used wherever there 
 are long emphatic, especially circumflex, slides, both the 
 beginning and the end of which it seems important to 
 bring out with distinctness; therefore, usually upon words 
 expressing comparisons and contrasts, especially on those 
 expressing irony, sarcasm and contemptuous mockenj. 
 
 In the following extracts the Compound Stress falls on the words 
 in italics. 
 
 Slightly aspirated orotund, sustained force. 
 
 1. Are you really prepared to determine, but not to 
 hear, the mighty cause upon which hang a nation's hopes 
 and fears ? You are ? Then beware of your decision ! 
 By all you hold most dear, — by all the ties that bind every 
 one of us to our common order and our common country, 
 I solemnly adjure you, — I u^arn you, — I im^j/or^ you, — yea, 
 on my bended knees I supplicate you, — reject not this bill! 
 
 Idem. 
 
 2. You blocks, you stones, you ivorse than senseless things! 
 you hard hearts! you criiel men of Rome! 
 
 Know you not Pompey? many a time and 6ft 
 Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, 
 To t6wers and windows, yea to chimney-tops. 
 Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
 The livelong day with patient expectation, 
 To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; 
 And do you now put on your best attire? 
 And do 3^ou now cull out a holiday? 
 And do you noiv strew flowers in his way 
 That comes to triumph over Pompey 's blood? 
 Begone 
 
82 orator's manual. 
 
 Pure, high, sustained force, varied melody. 
 
 3. " The birds can fly, an' why can't / ? 
 Must we give ^;^," says he with a grin, 
 
 " That the hluehird an' pheebe are smarter'n M^e be?" 
 
 Pure, high, varied -melody. 
 
 4. The meaning of Meek she never knew, 
 
 But imagined the phrase had something to do 
 With " Moses,'' a peddling German Jeiv, 
 Who, like all hawkers, the country through 
 
 Was a person of no position: 
 And it seemed to her exceedingly plain. 
 If the word was really known to pertain 
 To a vulgar German, it wasn't genndne, 
 
 To a lady of high condition! 
 Idem. 
 
 5. Fal. I call thee coward ! I'll see thee hanged ere I 
 call thee coward ; but I would give a thousand pound I 
 could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in 
 the shQulders; you care not who soes your back. Call you 
 that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing ! 
 
 Medium pitch, orotund and guttural. 
 
 6. What's banished, but set free 
 
 From daily contact of the things I loathe? 
 " Tried and convicted traitor! " — who says this? 
 ^\\o\\ prove it, at his peril, on my head? 
 Banished? I thank you for't! It breaks my chain! 
 I held some slack allegiance till this hour, — 
 But now my sword's my own. 
 m^ See, also, §§ 211, 212, 213. 
 
 a. This stress is especially effective on a long slide made on a 
 single syllable that ends a word; e. g. I supplicate you, I implore 
 you. 
 
 The syllables that follow the inflection on supplicate prevent our 
 using the Compound Stress on that {see% 45: b, c). It will be 
 noticed, also, that the same principle sometimes prevents our using 
 Compound Stress even where we have the circumflex (§ 45 : c). 
 
 b. Used excessively. Compound Stress makes delivery seem 
 sometimes snappish, and sometimes overdone, in the matter of 
 emphasis. 
 
 104. Thorough Stress, a strong stress throughout 
 the syllable, is sometimes described as a combination of 
 Initial, Median and Terminal XX, but, as given by a flexible 
 
FORCE. 83 
 
 cultivated voice, it perhaps might better be described as 
 a very strong form of Median Stress. In either case, it 
 would begin and end loud, and indicate a combination of 
 the ideas conveyed by Initial, Median and Terminal; i. e. 
 positiveness, push smd feeling, all together; therefore, raptur- 
 ous triumph, vehement appeal, loftij command, indignant 
 disdain or soul-stirring agony. 
 
 Moderately high aspirated orotund. 
 
 1. The world recedes; it disappears! 
 Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears 
 
 With sounds seraphic ring: 
 Lend, lend your ivings! I mdunt! I fly! 
 grave! where is thy victory? 
 
 death! ivhere is thy sting? 
 
 High orotund, explosive sustained force. 
 
 2. Cheer answer cheer, and bear the cheer abdut. 
 Hurrah, hurrah, for the fiery fort is ours! 
 
 "Victory, victory, victory!" 
 Idem. 
 
 3. Forward, throuerh blood and toil and cloud and fire! 
 Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, 
 The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire! 
 
 They shake; like broken waves their squares retire. 
 f)n them, hussars ! Now give them rein and heel ! 
 Idem. 
 
 4. Some to the common pulpits ! and cry out 
 ^^ Liberty, freedom and enfranchisement!'' 
 
 Low aspirated pectoral. 
 
 5. Poison be their drink; 
 
 Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste ; 
 Their siveetest shade, a grove of cypress trees; 
 Their sweetest prospects, murderi?ig basilisks; 
 Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings, 
 Their 7nusic frightful as the serpent's hiss, 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full 
 With the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell. 
 
 As a rule, this stress needs to be more avoided than cultivated. 
 Except when used with discrimination, its inflexibility, devoid of 
 the graceful and delicate tones characterizing- other forms of stress, 
 renders it a disaarreeable mannerism, suggesting, when employed on 
 the stage, rudeness and vulgarity. 
 
84 orator's manual. 
 
 105. Tremulous Stress (so called) is hardly a form 
 of stress, but a trembling movement of the voice produced 
 in the throat, and characterizing a v^hole passage rather 
 than the emphatic words in the passage. It indicates ex- 
 haustion^ whether it come from age, sickness, weakness, or 
 an excess of emotion, either of joy or of grief. 
 
 Pure, medium pitch. 
 
 1. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, 
 
 Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door. 
 
 Pure, medium pitch, moderate time, 
 
 2. If you're waking, call me early, c411 me earty, mother 
 
 dear. 
 For I would see the srin rise upon the glad New Year. 
 It is the last New Year that I shall ever see, 
 Then you may lay me low i' the mould, and think 
 
 no more of me. 
 
 Oratund, medium pitch. 
 
 3. Have mercy upon me, God, according to thy loving- 
 kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mer- 
 cies, blot out my transgressions! Wash me thoroughly 
 from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I 
 acknowledge my transgressions, and my sin is ever before 
 me. Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this 
 evil in thy sight. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out 
 all mine iniquities! 
 
 High, pure, aspirated, fast. 
 
 4. You must wake and call me early, call me early, 
 
 mother dear; 
 
 To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad 
 NewYear; 
 
 Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, mer- 
 riest day; 
 
 For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be 
 Queen o' the May. 
 
 Orotund, rather low. 
 
 5. Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill, as to my 
 b6som I have tried to press thee! How was I wont to feel 
 my pulses thrill like a rich harpstring, yearning to caress 
 thee, and hear thy sweet ''My father f from those dumb 
 and cold lips, Absalom! 
 
 See, also, §§ 91, 328. 
 
FORCE. 85 
 
 A discriminating use of the tremor imparts to delivery a rap- 
 turous or pathetic effect that nothing else can give; used in excess, 
 it is enfeeblmg. 
 
 Let tne student now read over the passages given as illustra- 
 tions in §§ 107-120, 123-137, 140-145, and § 149, and determine 
 for himself the kind of stress that should be used with each 
 quotation. 
 
 General Force. 
 
 106. By this is meant the force that characterizes series of words 
 in phrases or sentences, rather than single words or syllables. It 
 may be divided, according to thf l-})id of mental energy (§ 32) that 
 it expresses, into abrupt and smooth force; according to the degree 
 of this energy, into loud and soft lorce; or according to the nature 
 of the force itself, as influenced by the action of the vocalizing or- 
 gans, into sustained, natural and suppressed; as influenced by 
 the action of the lungs, into explosive, expulsive and effusive 
 (§ 8). Besides this, it is further modified by the kind of stress used 
 with individual words, — all which facts are sufficient to show that 
 the character of General Force is somewhat complicated. But a 
 little attention given to the following explanations will reveal to the 
 student that the right use of all these different varieties of force 
 depends on the application of a few general principles, which it is 
 not difficult to understand. Let him first learn when to use loud or 
 soft, abrupt or smooth force; then all that follows will show him 
 how to use these. 
 
 107. Abrupt Force is used when there is an excess of 
 energy, which seems to have a constant tendency, as it were, 
 to burnt through the form. If this excess come from a great 
 degree of excitement, or of irritation, as in rage, horror, 
 detestation, etc., we have 
 
 a. Loud Abrupt Force, usually on a low key with orotund, 
 aspirate or guttural quality. 
 
 Practice the following, and all the examples in § 149. changing the force as in- 
 dicated by the italics. Keep a low key, expelling tones from the abdomen (§ 2). 
 
 DosT thou come here to whine? 
 
 To OUTFACE me by leaping in her grdve? 
 
 Be buried quick with her, and so will I. 
 And if thou prate of MOUNTAINS, — let them throw 
 Millions of acres on us, till our ground 
 Singeing his pate, against THE BURNING ZONE, 
 MAKE OSSA LIKE A WART. Nay, an' thou'lt MOUTH, 
 I'll RANT as well as thou. 
 
 {See, also, exercises in § 14; also §§ 110. 114.) 
 
86 orator's makual. 
 
 If the excess of energy comes from a slight degree of excitation, 
 or from mere exuberance of spirit, as in laughing mirth, raillery, 
 etc., we have 
 
 b. Soft Abrupt Force, uttered usually with a high, discrete 
 varied melody {§ 92: a) and pure quality. 
 
 Now o'er a chair he gets a fall; now floundering for- 
 wards with a jerk, he bobs his nose against the wall; and 
 now encouraged by a subtle fancy that they're near the 
 door, he jumps behind it to explore, and breaks his shins 
 against the scuttle; crying, at each disaster — "Drat it! 
 Hang it! 'od rabbit it!" and "Rat it!" 
 
 108. Smooth. Force is used when there is merely what 
 might be termed an expansion of energy. If this is accom- 
 panied by a great degree of excitation or enthusiasm, as in 
 referring to what is sublime, grand, powerful, etc., we have 
 
 a. Loud Smooth Force. {See, also, §§ 111, 215, 218.) 
 
 If there were no religion; if that vast sphere, out of 
 which grow all the supereminent truths of the Bible, was a 
 mere emptiness and void; yet, methinks, the very idea of 
 Fatherland, the exceeding preciousness of the laws and lib- 
 erties of a great people, would enkindle such a high and 
 noble enthusiasm, that all baser feelings would be con- 
 sumed! 
 
 If there is only a slight degree of excitation and exhilaration, 
 as in referring to what is beautiful, lovely, tender, etc., {see, also, 
 §§ 109, 112, 116, 119), we have 
 
 b. Soft Smootli Force. 
 
 If I were now to die, 
 'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear 
 My soul hath her content so absolute, 
 That not another comfort like to this 
 Succeeds in unknown fate. 
 {See, also, exercises in § 14: b.) 
 
 Now let us consider how to produce these different kinds and 
 degrees of Force: first, as determined by the modes of vocalizmg. 
 
 109. Sustained Force. When one speaks forcibly on 
 a high key, appropriate for light, gay, lively or uncontrolled 
 states of mind, there is a tendency to run the tones together, 
 as in singing, i. e. to sustain, them. Although natural to a 
 high key, the same kind of force can be used, especially after 
 
FORCE. 87 
 
 the voice has been cultivated, on a comparatively low key. 
 Sustained force may be given in three different forms, de- 
 termined by the different modes of breathing. In prac- 
 ticing it, sustain successive unemphatic tones on the same 
 key. (§80.) 
 
 110. Explosive Form (interchanging in places with expulsive). 
 This unites the effects of loud abrupt and loud smooth force; each 
 tone, after the abrupt beginning, being prolonged, as in smooth 
 force. In it we have usually initial, terminal, or compound stress, a 
 high key and orotund quality. It is used for uncontrolled moods, in 
 which the speaker, owing to the grandeur or importance of his 
 thought, is canied away by excessive joy, rage or fear. Its most 
 distinctive form is the tone of shouting. 
 
 1. Victory! victory! Their columns give w^y! press 
 them while they waver, and the day is ours ! 
 
 2. Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath ttirned the 
 
 chance of war ! 
 Hurrah! hurrah! for Ivry and King Henry of Na- 
 varre ! 
 
 3. Come, brands, ho! fire-brands! — To Brutus'! to Cas- 
 sius'! — burn all! Some to Decius' house, and some to Cas- 
 ca's; some to Ligarius' — away! 
 
 4. "0, spare my child, my joy, my pride! 
 0, give me back my child!" she cried: 
 
 " My child! my child!" with sobs and tears, 
 She shrieked upon his callous ears. 
 
 5. "Come back, come back, Horatius!" 
 
 Loud cried the Fathers all. 
 "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! 
 Back, ere the ruin fall!" 
 
 {See, also, § 104: 2, 3, 4; § 135: 1, 3; § 145: h.) 
 
 111. Expulsive Form (interchanging with explosive). This is 
 loud smooth force, with predominating terminal stress, though it can 
 be used with all kinds of stress, and a comparatively high key. It is 
 sometimes called Declamatory Force, and is appropriate for moods 
 that are uncontrolled, in the sense that the speaker seems to be 
 carried away by his impetuosity or conception of the importance, 
 grandeur, etc., of his theme. It is very effective in Oratory, especi- 
 ally when accompanied by full orotund volume; e. g. 
 
88 orator's manual. 
 
 Predominating terminal stress. 
 
 1. All, all his victories should have rushed and crowded 
 back upon his memory; Vimiera, Badajos, Salamanca, Al- 
 buera, Toulouse, and, last of all, the greatest, — tell me, — 
 for you were there, — I appeal to the gallant soldier before 
 me, who bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid 
 breast, — tell me, for you must needs remember, on that 
 day, when the destinies of mankind were trembling in the 
 balance, while death fell in showers upon them; when the 
 artillery of France, levelled with the precision of the most 
 deadly science, played upon them; when her legions, incited 
 by the v6ice, inspired by the example of their mighty leader, 
 rushed again and again to the contest; — tell me if, for an 
 instant, when to hesitate for an instant was to be lost, the 
 "aliens" blanched? 
 
 Median stress. 
 
 2. Up with my banner on the wall, — 
 
 The banquet board prepare; 
 
 Throw wide the portals of my hall, 
 
 And bring my armor there! 
 
 Terminal stress. 
 
 3. Go home, if you dare, — go home, if you can, to your 
 constituents, and tell them that you voted it down! Meet, 
 if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent 
 you here, and tell them that you shrank from the declara- 
 tion of your own sentiments — that, you cannot tell h6w, 
 but that some unknown dread, some indescribable appre- 
 hension, some indefinable danger, affrighted you — that the 
 spectres of cimeters, and crowns, and crescents gleamed 
 before you, and alarmed you; and that you suppressed all 
 the noble feelings prompted by religion, by liberty, by 
 national independence, and by humanity! 
 
 (See, also, §§ 211-214, 218, 219, especially § 215.) 
 
 112, Effusive Form (interchang-ing with expulsive). This is 
 soft smooth force. In it we have predominating median stress, a 
 high or moderately high key, greatly varied concrete (§ 87) melody, 
 and pure, thoug-h sometimes orotund quality. It is used for gay, 
 light, lively, uncontrolled moods, that are gently agitated by experi- 
 ences pleasurable or beautiful, as in exuberant humor, playful irony, 
 banter, delight, exultation. 
 
FORCE. 89 
 
 1. Oil, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. 
 She is the fairies' midwife; and slie comes 
 
 In shape no bigger than an agate stone 
 On tlie fore-finger of an alderman. 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies 
 Athwart men's noses as they lie asleeiD. 
 
 2. You talk of pride! Oh! that you could turn your 
 eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an 
 interior survey of your good selves! 
 
 3. Away, away! for the stars are forth, 
 
 And on the pure snows of the valley, 
 In a giddy trance, the moonbeams dance — 
 Come, let us our comrades rally! 
 
 4. Hear the sledges w^ith the bells, silver bells — 
 What a world of merriment their melody foretells! 
 How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of night! 
 While the stars that oversprinkle all the heavens, seem 
 
 to twinkle 
 With a crystalline delight — 
 Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of runic rhyme, 
 To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
 From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells 
 From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 
 
 {See, also, §224; §133: 1, 2,3.) 
 
 113. Natural Force seems to be the most appropriate 
 term by which to designate that large number of passages 
 in which the tones, strictly speaking, are neither Sustained 
 nor Suppressed, but in a condition between the two. Natural 
 Force may also be given in three different forms. 
 
 114. Explosive Form fintprchano-ins" with expulsive). Tliis is 
 Joiid abrupt, commonly called vehement force (§§ 210-215). In it 
 we have predominating initial, terminal and coniponnd stress, and 
 a comparatively low key, with orotund, aspirate and guttural quality. 
 It passes easily and often into sustained force (example 2), when the 
 indignation which it chiefly expresses is overbalanced by a considera- 
 tion of the importance or grandeur of the subject. For additional 
 illustrations of its use see §§ 211-315. 
 
 4* 
 
90 orator's mai^ual. 
 
 1. I do not rise to waste the night in words; 
 Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my trade; 
 But here I stand for right, — let him show proofs, — 
 For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand 
 To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there! 
 Cling to your master, judges, Romans, slaves! 
 His charge is false; I dare him to his proofs. 
 
 In the following, natural force becomes sustained: 
 2. These ab6minable principles, and this more abomi- 
 nable avowal of them, demand the m6st decisive indigna- 
 tion. I call upon that right reverend and this most learned 
 Bench to vindicate the religion of their God, — to defend 
 and support the jtistice of their country. I call upon the 
 bishops to interpose the unstillied sanctity of their lawn, 
 upon the jtidges to interpose the parity of their ermine, to 
 save us from this poUtition. 
 
 115. Expulsive Form (interchanging with explosive). This 
 is loud smooth, ordinarily called earnest, force (classified as ani- 
 mated, §§ 216-219). In it we have predominating terminal, with 
 some initial and median stress, a medium key, and pure or orotund 
 quality. It passes often and easily into sustained force, when from 
 merely serious and strong sentiments it passes to grand ones. For 
 illustrations of its use see §§ 216-219, and poetry marked expulsive 
 in §§ 221-225. 
 
 You can mould opinion, you can create political p5wer; 
 you cannot think a good thought on this subject and com- 
 municate it to your neighbor, you cannot make these points 
 topics of discussion in your social circles and more general 
 meetings, without affecting, sensibly and speedily, the course 
 which the government of your country will pursue. 
 
 116. Effusive Form. This is soft smooth, ordinarily called 
 moderate, force. It is used with all kinds of stress, a medium key, 
 and pure quality, whenever there is no appearance of an effort to 
 suppress the utterance. It characterizes ordinary, unimpassioned 
 statements or descriptions {see § 226). 
 
 Now comes the autumn of life — the season of the " sere 
 and yellow leaf.'' The suppleness and mobility of the 
 limbs diminish, the senses are less acute, and the impres- 
 sions of external objects are less remarked. The fibres of 
 the body grow more rigid; the emotions of the mind are 
 
FORCE. 91 
 
 more calm and uniform ; the eye loses its lustrous keenness 
 of expression. 
 
 117. Suppressed or Subdued Force. When one 
 is in a serious, grave, dignified, self-determined mood, his 
 utterances, — however forcible, and because they must be, in 
 these cases, on a low key, — will be more or less suppressed, 
 rather than sustained. We have these different forms: 
 
 118. Explosive Form (interchanging- with expulsive). This 
 is loud abrupt force, on a low key, with initial, terminal or com- 
 pound stress, and often passes from orotund into aspirate, guttural 
 or pectoral quality. It gives expression to moods greatly excited by 
 serious and grave considerations, in which the tendency to expres- 
 sion is forcibly suppressed, as in amazement, impatience, indigna- 
 tion, revenge, fear, horror, despair. 
 
 1. Ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? 
 
 2. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. 
 He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a million; 
 laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my na- 
 tion, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated my 
 enemies. And what's his reason? 
 
 3. How ill this taper burns! Ha, who comes here? 
 I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
 
 That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
 
 It comes upon me — Art thou anything? 
 
 Art thou some g6d, some angel, or some devil, 
 
 That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare? 
 
 Speak to me, what thou art. 
 
 4. [While throng the citizens with terror dumb, 
 Or whisper with white lips] " The foe! — 
 
 They come, they come! " 
 
 [See, also, §§ 128, 129, and examples there referred to; also. 
 §145: a.) 
 
 119. Expulsive Form (interchanging with effusive). This is 
 not very loud smooth force, with predominating terminal or me- 
 dian stress, on a medium or low key, with pure or orotund quahty. 
 It is for moods not carried away by a subject, but rather suppressed 
 and subdued by the gravity and dignity of it. 
 
92 orator's manual. 
 
 1. Where Christ brings his cross he brings his presence, 
 and where he is none are desolate, and there is no room 
 for despair. At the darkest you have felt a hand through 
 the dark, closer perhaps and tenderer than any touch 
 dreamt of at noon. As he knows his own, so he knows how 
 to comfort them, — using sometimes the very grief itself, 
 and straining it to the sweetness of a faith unattainable to 
 those ignorant of any grief. 
 
 2. There was no trace by which the name of the ship 
 could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted 
 about for many months; clusters of shell-fish had fastened 
 about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides. But 
 where, thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long 
 been over; — they have gone ddwn amidst the r6ar of the 
 tempest; — their bones lie whitening in the caverns of the 
 deep. Silence, — oblivion, — like the waves, have closed over 
 them; and no one can tell the story of their end. 
 
 {See, also, § 220.) 
 
 120. Effusive Form (interchanging with expulsive). This is 
 soft smooth force, with predominating median stress, on a medium 
 or low key, with pure, sometimes orotund, quality. It gives ex- 
 pression to sentiments of beauty, tenderness, love, etc., when the 
 moods are the opposite of lively or uncontrolled in the sense that the 
 feeling- or tendency to express them is gently subdued or suppressed, 
 as in submissive supplication, contrition, commiseration, or the pres- 
 ence of sorrow, slumber, sickness, death. 
 
 1. 0, my 16rd, 
 
 Must I, then, leave you? must I needs foreg6 
 So g6od, so noble, and so true a master? 
 Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
 With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 
 
 2. Thou turnest man to destruction; and sdyest, " Re- 
 tiCirn, ye children of men." For a th6usand years in thy 
 sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch 
 in the night. 
 
 3. She sleeps: her breathings are not heard 
 
 In palace chambers far apart. 
 The fragrant tresses are not stirred 
 That lie upon her charmed heart. 
 
VOLUME. 93 
 
 She sleeps: on either hand upswells 
 
 The gold-fringed pillow, lightly prSst: 
 
 She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells 
 A perfect form in perfect rest. 
 
 4. Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead! 
 
 Sit and watch by her side an hour. 
 That is her book-shelf, — this her bed; 
 
 She plucked that piece of geranium flower 
 Beginning to die, too, in the glass. 
 {See, also, §§ 226, 228.) 
 
 VOLUME. 
 
 121. This is determined by the relative amount of 
 breath, energy and resonance that the voice derives from 
 the way in which the various organs of the lungs, throat 
 and mouth are used in forming it. 
 
 a. There are all possible degrees of volume. No separate term 
 is in use to apply to a slight change in it; but if the change is great 
 it necessitates a difference not only in degree but in kind, in what is 
 termed Quality. Pure quality, for instance, may be uttered with a 
 certain degree of full volame and still remain pure; but if an at- 
 tempt be made to change it still further in the same direction it be- 
 comes orotund. The principle regulatmg slight changes in volume, 
 such as are usually, though not exclusively, made when emphasizing 
 individual words or phrases, rather than whole passages,— the 
 changes in the latter almost always necessitating changes also in 
 quality, — is as follows: 
 
 b. Volume, which, as we have found (§ 32), is repre- 
 sentative of the feelings, is thin or fine in utterances that 
 are anticipative, indecisive, subordinate, insignificant, nega- 
 tive, etc., when these are expressive of moods that are 
 light, gay, lively or uncontrolled; and it is full in utter- 
 ances that are final, decisive, self-important, self -interesting , 
 affirmative, positive, etc., when these are expressive of 
 moods that are serious, grave, dignified or self-determined. 
 
 For illustration see § 140: e. 
 
94 okator's manual. 
 
 This, for instance, necessitates thin volume. 
 
 " Farewell! farewell! " I faintly cried; 
 " My breeches, — oil, my breeches!" 
 
 And this full. 
 
 Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding he rode 
 Companionless, bearing destruction abroad. 
 
 Anything further on this subject will be sufficiently unfolded 
 while considering 
 
 Quality. 
 
 122. By this is meant the kind of voice or tone that one 
 uses; and this, as has been said, depends on the elements 
 that enter into it and constitute its volume (§ 121). 
 
 The following' qualities need to be understood: the Aspirate, 
 Guttural and Pectoral, which, as they are used mainly to modify 
 and supplement other tones, it is convenient to consider first; the 
 Pure and Orotund, which are the most ordinary and important 
 qualities; and the Nasal and Oral, which need to be mentioned 
 mainly that they may be avoided. Recalling (§ 32) that the differ- 
 ent qualities of voice represent different kinds of emotions, we turn 
 first to the 
 
 123. Aspirate. This is the thinnest quality, — a tone 
 almost flooded with breath. Wherever heard, it suggests 
 that behind the tone there is an excess of motion, or emo- 
 tion, that is constantly straining through and preventing 
 complete vocalization. In other words, it indicates intensity 
 of feeling. Besides this, in the degree in which its qual- 
 ity approaches that of the ordinary whisper, it suggests 
 surprise, caution, apprehension or alarm, in view of external 
 circumstances. 
 
 a. The Effusive Whisper or Aspirate indicates a gentle 
 degree of intensity subdued, as in the presence of something to 
 cause caution or awe; e. g. 
 
 Leave me! thy footstep with its lightest s6und. 
 The very shadow of thy waving hair. 
 
 Wakes in my soul a feeling too profound, 
 
 Too str6ng for aught that lives and dies to b6ar: 
 Oh, bid the conflict cease ! 
 
I 
 
 VOLUME. 95 
 
 Gentle knave, good night! 
 I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. 
 If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument: 
 I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night! 
 
 b. Th.e Expulsive Whisper or Aspirate indicates a great 
 degree of intensity or earnestness, as in the presence of something to 
 cause apprehension; e.g. 
 
 1. All's hushed as midnight, yet! 
 No noise! and enter. 
 
 2. One disorderly noise or motion may leave us at the 
 mercy of their advanced guard. Let every man keep the 
 strictest silence, under pain of instant death! 
 
 c. The Explosive Whisper or Aspirate indicates the greatest 
 degree of intensity, or vehement earnestness, as in the presence of 
 something to alarm; e.g. 
 
 1. Hark! I hear the bugles of the enemy! They are on 
 their march along the bank of the river. We must retreat 
 instantly, or be cut off from our boats. I see the head of 
 their column already rising over the height. Our only 
 safety is in the screen of this hedge. Keep cl6se to it; be 
 silent; and stoop as you run. For the boats! Forward! 
 
 2. Ladij M. My hands are of your color; but I shame 
 To wear a heart so white. — {Knock.) I hear a 
 
 knocking 
 At the south entry: — retire we to our chamber: 
 A little water clears us of this deed : 
 How easy is it then? Your constancy 
 Hath left you unattended. — {Kiiocking.) Hark, m6re 
 
 knocking. 
 
 124. The Aspirate may he used tvith any tone or 
 quality of the voice, and, when thus used, intensifies the 
 feeling that the tone expresses. In the degree in which the 
 aspiration is decided and forcible, it conveys the impression 
 of apprehension or alarm. 
 
 a. When used habitually, however, it is a fault, and needs to be 
 corrected by learning how to draw and hold more air in the lung's, 
 and to use economy in vocalizing it. {See §§ 8-10.) 
 
96 orator's man-ual. 
 
 b. Practicing the whisper (§ 8) tends to develop the capacity 
 and strength of the respiratory and articulating organs. 
 
 i^W^ In practicing the whisper, do not allow yourself to feel that 
 there is contraction in the throat. Keep the throat open; make the 
 waist-muscles do the work. Never practice atter feeling giddy. 
 
 125. Guttural. This is a real voice, so modified by 
 the drawing back of the tongue, and the contraction of the 
 throat above the larynx, as to have an impure, harsh effect. 
 It is acquired by practicing the consonants g, j, k, r, t, and 
 d; and, in any given passage, is produced largely by articu- 
 lating these consonants with great distinctness. It is the 
 natural expression for hostility; hence for malice, hatred, 
 revenge, etc. 
 
 1. I would that now 
 
 I could forget the monk who stands before me; 
 For he is like the accursed and crafty snake! 
 Hence ! from my sight ! — Thou Satan, get behind me ! 
 Go from my sight ! — I hate and I despise thee ! 
 
 2. A murderer, and a villain: 
 A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe 
 Of your precedent lord: — a vice of king's: 
 
 A cutpurse of the empire and the rule; 
 That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
 And put it in his pocket! 
 
 {See §§ 211-225: 7, 12, 14, 15; § 100: 5, 6; § 118: 2; § 145: a; 
 
 §137.) 
 
 126. The Aspirate used ivHh the guttural increases the feel- 
 ing, especially apprehension connected with the sensation of hos- 
 tility; hence, it indicates profound impatience, disgust, aversion, 
 derision, and contemptuous defiance. {See references under § 125 ) 
 
 1. Oh, that the slave had forty thousand lives! 
 My great revenge had stomach for them all! 
 
 2. Thou stand'st at length before me undisguised — 
 Of all earth's groveling crew the most accursed. 
 Thou worm! thou viper! to thy native earth 
 Rettirn ! Away ! Thou art too base for man 
 Totre^dupon! Thousctim! thou reptile I 
 
VOLUME. 97 
 
 3. Aufidius. Name not the god, 
 Thou boy of tears. 
 Coriolanus. Measureless liar! thou hast made my 
 
 heart 
 Too great for what contains it. 
 Boy! Cut me to pieces, Volscians: men and lads, 
 Stain all your edges on me. Boy! — 
 If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there 
 That, like an eagle in a dovecot, I 
 Fluttered your Yolscians in Corioli: 
 Alone I did it.— Boy! 
 
 127. The Guttural, like the aspirate, may accom- 
 pany other qualities (though seldom the pm^e), and when 
 thus used, intensifies the hostility that they express, § 137. 
 
 When used habitually, the exercises (§§ 8-11) will enable one to 
 overcome the habit. 
 
 128. Pectoral. This is a hollow murmur from the 
 chest, in which the lower part of the throat seems expanded. 
 It furnishes the natural expression for sensations of awe and 
 horror. 
 
 1. Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee ! 
 Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold: 
 
 Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
 Which thou dost glare with ! 
 
 Hence, horrible shadow! 
 Unreal mockery, hence! 
 
 2. Such an act 
 As blurs the grace and blush of modesty; 
 Calls virtue, hypocrite; and takes off the rose 
 From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
 And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows 
 As false as dicers' oaths: 0, such a deed 
 
 As from the body of contraction plucks 
 The very soul; and sweet religion makes 
 A rhapsody of words. 
 
 {See, also, §94: 2, 3, 4; § 104: 5; § 118: 3; § 144: 3, 4.) 
 
 129. The Aspirate used icith the pectoral increases the feel- 
 ing, especially aj^tprehension, connected with this sensation of awe or 
 
 5 
 
98 orator's ma:nual. 
 
 horror; hence, it indicates astoundment, abhorrence, despair, and 
 despairing terror. 
 
 1. What may this mean, 
 
 That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, 
 Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon. 
 Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature 
 So horridly to shake our disposition 
 With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 
 
 2. Is it come to this? Shall an inferior magistrate, a 
 governor, who holds his whole power of the Roman people, 
 in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, sc6urge, 
 torture with fire and red-hot plates of iron, and at last put 
 to the infamous death of the cross, a Roman citizen ? 
 
 3. Which way I fly is Hell, — myself am Hell; 
 And in the lowest deep, a lower deep. 
 Still threatening to devour me, opens wide. 
 To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven! 
 
 4. Oh! horror! horror! horror! — Tongue nor heeH 
 Cannot conceive, nor name thee! . . . 
 
 Confusion now hath made me his masterpiece! 
 Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
 The Lord's anointed Temple, and stole thence 
 The life of the building. . . . 
 
 Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight 
 With a new Gorgon ! 
 
 130. When the pectoral tone is used habitually it is owing 
 to a feeble action of the abdominal muscles, an inadequate supply of 
 air in the lungs, and a constant use of too low a pitch. The exercises 
 (§§ 8-10), together with acquiring a habit of using the middle notes 
 of the voice, will overcome the fault, unless it result from a state of 
 health that demands the services of a physician. 
 
 131. Pure. This quality results when the breathing, 
 sounding and articulating organs are used with a gentle or 
 moderate degree of force in the way indicated in §§ 8-12. 
 
 a. The singing of the scale (§ 13), ascended and descended 
 slowly, with a median stress (§ 102) on each note, will help especially 
 to cultivate this quality. When all the vowels come to have a 
 quality similar to that of oo, as ordinarily given with soft force, they 
 will be pure. 
 
VOLUME. 99 
 
 132. Pure tone is the natural expression for gently 
 agitated moods, whetlier light and gay, as in raillery, banter^ 
 admiration, exultation, or serious and grave, as in supplica-^ 
 tion and contrition, or in the presence of sorrow, sickness^ 
 death, or of anything to gently subdue or suppress the feel- 
 ings. {See §§ 108: b; §§ 112, 116, 120: 3, 4.) 
 
 Very high, varied melody. 
 
 1. Lion. You, ladies, you whose gentle hearts do feai 
 The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, 
 May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here, 
 When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. 
 
 Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, am 
 No lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; 
 For if I should as lion come in strife 
 Into this place, 'twere pity of my life. 
 
 Idem, high. 
 
 2. Alas ! now, pray you, 
 Work not so hard: I would the lightning had 
 Burned up those logs, that you are enjoined to pile! 
 Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 
 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father 
 
 Is hard at study, — pray now, rest yourself: 
 He's safe for these three hours. 
 
 Medium pitch. 
 
 3. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. 
 Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile. 
 
 And touch thy instrument a strain or two? 
 I trouble thee too much; but thou art willing. 
 I should not urge thy duty past thy might, 
 I know young bloods lack for a time of rest. 
 I will not hold thee long: if I do live, 
 I will be good to thee. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 4. Look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! 
 There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings. 
 
 Still quiring to the young- eyed cherubim. 
 
 Lora 
 
100 orator's man-ual. 
 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls: 
 But while this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it In, we cannot hear it. 
 
 {See, also, § 100: 1, 2, 3; § 101 : 1; § 102: 1; § 103: 3, 4, 5; § 105: 1, 
 2, 4; some selections in § 217; and many marked P in §§ 222-225.) 
 
 133. The Aspirate, used with the pure tone, intensifies the 
 feeling" in the above sentiments, causing them to express ecstasy, 
 admiration, sympathy, tenderness, devotion, commiseration. 
 
 Very high, varied melody. 
 
 1. Miranda. wonder! 
 
 How many goodly creatures are there here! 
 How beauteous mankind is! brave new world, 
 That has such people in it! 
 
 Idem, high. 
 
 2. The red rose cries, " She is near, she is near"; 
 
 And the white rose weeps, " She is late"; 
 The larkspur listens, " I hear, I hear"; 
 And the lily whispers, " I wait." 
 
 Idem, medium pitch. 
 
 3. Leontes. sweet Paulina, 
 
 Make me to think so twenty years together ; 
 No settled senses of the world can match 
 The pleasure of that madness. 
 
 Low. 
 
 4. W6e, yet not long; — she lingered but to trace 
 
 Thine image from the image in her breast, 
 Once, once again to see that buried face 
 
 But smile upon her, ere she went to rest. 
 Too sad a smile! its living light was 6'er, — 
 It answered hers no more. 
 
 very effective way of expressing the above sentiments is 
 to begin the words with a soft, pure tone, to use a long initial stress 
 on them, and let each die away into an aspiration or a whisper. 
 Read 2 and 3 (above) in this way; also § 132: 4. 
 
 {See §§ 222-225, for examples of aspirated pure tones.) 
 134. Orotund. This quality, though it may be given 
 with almost every variety of force and pitch, is better 
 adapted than the pure tone for the louder degrees of force. 
 
VOLUME. 101 
 
 especially when these are produced upon a loiv ketj. It is a 
 pure tone to which is imparted unusual bod}^ force and 
 resonance, which cause a difference in the volume of the 
 tone. 
 
 a. This difference is produced because in it, as contrasted with 
 the position of the organs in simple pure tones, the abdomen is more 
 tense, the larynx (Adam's apple in throat) lower down, the hack of 
 the tongue flatter, the soft palate higher, all the vocal passages trider, 
 and the breath seems to be directed toward the roof of the mouth 
 instead of straight to the lips; in short, the organs of speech are in 
 about the position of loailing. To acquire it, practice exercises 
 §§ 8-13, with the organs arranged as in wailing, especially on a low 
 key; also b, d, g and J on a low key. 
 
 b. When all the vowels come to have a quality similar to that 
 of long as ordinarily given with loud force, they will have the 
 orotund quality. 
 
 c. On account of the richness of its full tones, suggesting often 
 a slight degree of hoarseness, the orotund is the last and most artistic 
 result of vocal culture, and is almost always acquired rather than 
 natural. 
 
 135. The Orotund is the natural expression for deeply 
 agitated moods, whether pleasurable or otherwise; i. e. of 
 delight, admiration, reverence, adoration, boldness, determina- 
 tion, etc., in view of the majesty or sublimity of truth, good- 
 ness, honor, etc. 
 
 {See Explosive and Expulsive Force, §§ 108, 110, 111, all contain- 
 ing examples of the Orotund; also the with all kinds of Stress, 
 §§ 100-105; and of Sentiment, §§ 210-235.) 
 
 Very high. 
 
 1. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! — 
 Rtin hence! proclaim, cry it about the streets! 
 
 High. 
 
 2. Ye guards of liberty, 
 I'm with you once again ! I call to you 
 With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you 
 To show they still are free! 
 
 Medium pitch. 
 
 3. Thou glorious mirror ! where the Almighty's form 
 Glasses itself in tempests; in all time — 
 
102 orator's MAlfUAL. 
 
 Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
 Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime. 
 
 Medium pitch. 
 
 4. Our brethren are already in the field ! Why stand 
 w^ here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What 
 would they have? — Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to 
 be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? — Forbid 
 it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may 
 take ; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death ! 
 
 Low. 
 
 5. Pronounce, then, my lords, the sentence which the 
 law directs, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I 
 shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, 
 with a pure heart and a perfect composure, to appear before 
 a higher tribunal — a tribunal where a judge of infinite 
 goodness, as well as of justice, will preside, and where, my 
 lords, many, many of the judgments of this world will be 
 reversed. 
 
 136. The Aspirate, used tvith the Orotund, intensifies the 
 feeling in the above sentiments, causing them to express rapture, 
 enthusiasm, vehemence, indignation, rage, and, with an excess of 
 the aspirate, terror. 
 
 1. Hear, ye nations! hear it, ye dead! 
 
 He rose. He rose, — he burst the bars of death. 
 
 The theme, the joy how then shall men sustain? 
 
 Oh! the btirst gates ! crushed sting ! demolished throne! 
 
 2. Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! 
 Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head: 
 Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood, 
 Amaze the welkin with your broken staves. 
 
 A thousand hearts are great within my bOsom : 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes! 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! 
 Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. 
 
 3. Send out more hOrses. — skirr the country round; 
 Hancr those that talk of fear ! — Give me mine armor. 
 
VOLUME. 103 
 
 4. Begone ! run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 
 Pray to the gods to intermit the plagues 
 
 That needs must light on this ingratitude ! 
 
 5. Shall neither the cries of innocence expiring in 
 agony, nor the tears of pitying spectators, nor the majesty 
 of the Eoman commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of 
 his country, restrain the licentious and wanton cruelty of a 
 monster who, in confidence of his riches, strikes at the root 
 of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance? 
 
 6. Back to thy punishment, 
 False ftigitive! and to thy speed add wings; 
 Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
 Thy lingering. 
 
 7. To arms! — they c6me!— the Greek, the Greek! 
 
 137. The Guttural, used ivith the Orotund, adds hostihtj 
 to the sentmients in § 135, causing them to express detestation^ 
 defiance, vengeance. 
 
 1. Have ye fair daughters? Look 
 
 To see them live, tdrn from your arms, distained. 
 Dishonored; and if ye dare call for justice. 
 Be answered by the lash! 
 
 3. Talk not to me 
 
 Of odds or match ! — When Comyn died, 
 Three daggers clashed within his side! 
 Talk not to me of sheltering hall! — 
 The Church of God saw Comyn fall! 
 On God's own altar streamed his blood; 
 While o'er my prostrate kinsman stood 
 The ruthless murderer, even as now. 
 With armed hand and scornful brow. 
 
 Pectoral, in opening lines. 
 
 3. Whence and what art thou, execrable shape! 
 That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
 Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
 To yonder gates? Through them, I mean to pass — 
 That be assured — without leave asked of thee! 
 Retire, or taste thy folly; and learn by proof. 
 Hell-born ! not to contend with spirits of heaven ! 
 
104 orator's manual. 
 
 4. But you, wretch! you could creep through the world 
 unaffected by its various disgraces, its ineffable miseries, its 
 constantly accumulating masses of crime and sorrow; — 
 you could live and enjoy yourself, while the noble-minded 
 were betrayed, — while nameless and birthless villains trod 
 on the neck of the brave and long-descended: — you 
 could enjoy yourself, like a butcher's dog in the shambles, 
 battening on garbage, while the slaughter of the brave 
 went on around you! This enjoyment you shall not live to 
 partake of: you shall die, base dog! — and that before yon 
 cloud has passed over the sun! 
 
 For examples of alternating Orotund, Aspirate and Guttural, 
 etc., see §§ 211-225: 7, 12, 14, 15, 24, 34, 88. 
 
 Sometimes Orotund, Guttural and Aspirate are all found 
 together : 
 
 I will not g-o through the disgusting recital ; my lips have not 
 yet learnt the sycophantic language of a degraded slave ! 
 
 Are we so low, so base, so despicable, that we may not express 
 our horror, articulate our detestation, of the most brutal and atro- 
 cious war that ever stained 6arth, or shocked high heaven, with the 
 ferocious deeds of a brutal soldiery, set on by the clergy and fol- 
 lowers of a fanatical and inimical religion, and rioting in excess of 
 blood and butchery, at the mere details of which the heart sickens? 
 
 {See % 145: h.) 
 
 138. The Nasal Quality results when the nasal passages 
 remain closed while one is speaking. Used in connection with any 
 of the other qualities of the voice, it adds to what they otherwise 
 express, a sneer of contempt or derision. When this tone is 
 habitual, to overcome it one should practice exercises §§ 8-12. 
 
 139. The Oral Quality is the high, feeble, indifferent sound, 
 that suggests that there is no longer any connection between the 
 lungs and the mouth. Whoever has it needs to connect the two by 
 learning to breathe, sound and articulate, as indicated, §§ 8-12; and 
 also to use the lower notes of the voice. These alone can give 
 strength, resonance and dignity to his utterances. 
 
 Examples Containing Different Kinds of Quality. 
 
 The fiery eloquence of the field and the forum springs 
 upon the vulgar idiom as a soldier leaps upon his horse. 
 " Trust in the Lord and keep your powder dry," said Crom- 
 
VOLUME. 105 
 
 well to his soldiers, on the eve of a battle. "Silence! you 
 thirty voices! " roars Mirabeau to a knot of opposers around 
 the tribune. " I'd sell the shirt off my back to support the 
 war ! " cries Lord Chatham; and again: " Conquer the Amer- 
 icans! I might as well think of driving them before me 
 with this crutch! " " I know" says Kossuth, speaking of the 
 march of intelligence, " that the light has spread, and that 
 even the bayonets thmk.'' " You may shake me if you please," 
 said a little Yankee constable to a stout, burly culprit whom 
 he had come to arrest and who threatened violence, " but 
 recollect, if you do it, you don't shake a chap of five-feet- 
 six; you've got to shake the ivhole State of Massachusetts!''' 
 When a Hoosier was asked by a Yankee how much he 
 weighed, — "Well," said he, "commonly I weigh about one 
 hundred and eighty; but ivhen I'm mad I iveigh a ton!''' 
 " Were I to die at this moment," wrote Nelson, after the 
 battle of the Nile, " more frigates would be found written 
 on my heart." The " Don't give up the ship! " of our mem- 
 orable sea-captain stirs the heart like the sound of a trum- 
 pet. Had he exhorted the men to fight to the last gasp in 
 defense of their imperiled liberties, their altars, and the 
 glory of America, the words might have been historic, but 
 they never would have been quoted vernacularly. — Mathews^ 
 ''''Words; their Use and Ahusey 
 
 He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed 
 His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; 
 Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm! 
 Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
 Revenge or Death! — the watchword and reply; 
 Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm. 
 And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm! 
 
106 
 
 ORATORS MANUAL. 
 
 
 Elements op Emphasis in Combination, 
 140. As determined by the special import of individual words 
 
 Pauses should be made after, he/ore or 
 (where it is possible), with prolong-ed quan- 
 tity, on all words that introduce into the 
 general sense importance, information or 
 peculiarity. Some of the same words should 
 be emphasized also by slides ; sotne (with or 
 without slides) by stress, and most of them 
 by a change in volume. In acquiring the 
 use of these elements, learn first to pause, then 
 to inflect, then to use special force; last of all 
 study stress and volume. 
 
 For utterances con- 
 ceived of as 
 
 
 
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 a. He causes | a banner | to be erected, I the 
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 from one | of his private | men, — | puts | him- 
 self I at the head | of his broken | troops, — I 
 darts II into the thick | of the battle, — || rescues || 
 his legions, ||| and overthrows |||| the enemy. 
 
 1 
 
 
 6 
 
 «2 
 
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 b. If he pretend to claim the charge is true, you 
 
 say? 
 And you, do you pretend it is not triie? 
 Aha, and you, — so y6u pretend it is not true! 
 Why should you so pretend ? Tho charg-e is true. 
 
 
 1-5 
 
 m 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 c. Why stand we here idle? What is it that 
 gentlemen wish ? what would they have ? 
 
 I know not what course others may take, but, 
 as for me. give me liberty, or give me d^ath! 
 
 p^ 
 
 10 
 03 
 
 1 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 Median. Oh that this lovely vale were mine! 
 
 ' Tremulous. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man. 
 
 Thorough. Gone to be married? Gone to 
 
 swear a peace ? 
 Compound. Oh, death, where is thy sting? 
 
 Oh, grave, where is thy victory? 
 Terminal. Oh horror! horror! horror! 
 
 Tongue nor heart can name thee! 
 Initial. You common cry of curs, whose 
 
 breath I hate. 
 
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 Eh 
 
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 Roll on your ball, baby, roll it on. 
 Roll on your hoop, my boy, roll it on. 
 Roll on the cask, the cart is ready for it. 
 Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll. 
 
 1 
 
ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IIT COMBINATION^. 
 
 107 
 
 Elements of Emphasis in Combination. 
 As determined by the general spirit of phrases and passages ; 
 
 For states of mind 
 that are 
 
 t5 
 
 Me 
 
 C» (/J 
 
 02 
 
 Movement becomes slower in all phrases 
 representing what moves slowly, or introducing 
 into the general sense importance, information 
 or peculiarity ; and /as^er in those representing 
 what moves fast, or expressing what is compar- 
 atively valueless, known, acknowledged, fore- 
 stalled or repetitious in statement or sequence. 
 In some of the same phrases are also changes 
 in melody and key; and in some (with or 
 without changes in melody and key) in force 
 and also in quality. 
 
 a. On with the dance! let joy be unconfined. . . , 
 To chase the glowing hours with flying feet; 
 But hark! — that . . sound breaks in once more, 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
 
 Arm! Arm! it is! — it is! — the cannon's opening 
 roar ! 
 
 1 
 
 
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 > 
 
 
 1 
 
 b. Be we men, and suffer such dishonor? 
 i have known deeper wrongs ; I that sp&ak to ye, 
 I had a brother once — a gracious boy, 
 Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope. 
 Of sweet and quiet joy. 
 
 
 
 6 
 1 
 
 > 
 
 1 
 
 c. Thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend 
 into heaven. I will be like the Most High; yet 
 thou shalt be brought down to h&ll, and worms 
 shall consume thy body. 
 
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 d. Last eve, in Beauty's circle, proudly gay, 
 
 The midnight brought the signal- sound of strife; 
 The morn, the marshalling in arms; the day, 
 Battle's magnificently stern array! 
 The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when 
 
 rent 
 The earth is covered thick with . . . heaped 
 
 and pent. 
 Rider and horse, — friend, — foe, — in one red burial 
 
 blent! 
 
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 6 
 
 
 
 e. Pure. I see Queen Mab has been with you. 
 
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 \ Guttural. " that villain 
 
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 Orotund. " liberty 
 
108 
 
 oratok's manual. 
 
 
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ELEMEIfTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION". 
 
 109 
 
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no okator's manual. 
 
 ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION. 
 
 143. On consulting the diagram (§ 140) it will be noticed that, as 
 a rule, in consecutive discourse, fast time, varied and high pitch, 
 sustained force and thin (pure or aspirate) volume go with one an- 
 other; also slow tim.e, unvaried and low pitch, suppressed force 
 and full (orotund, guttural or pectoral) volume. In other words, 
 
 143. In the degree in which the mental state to be ex- 
 pressed is light, gay, lively or uncontrolled, for any cause, the 
 time is fast, the pitch varied and high, the force sustained 
 and the volume thin (pure or aspirate). 
 
 Light, gay banter. 
 
 1. Oh! then I see Queen Mab has been with you. 
 
 She comes 
 
 In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
 On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies 
 Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: 
 And in this state she gallops night by night 
 Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love: 
 On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight: 
 O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: 
 O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream. 
 
 Gay, lively description. 
 
 2. One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, — 
 When they reached the hall door, where the charger 
 
 stood near: 
 So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, — 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
 "She is won! — we are gone, over bank, bush, and 
 
 scaur; 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 
 
 Lochinvar. 
 
 There was mounting 'mong Grsemes of the Netherby 
 
 clan; 
 Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and 
 
 they ran: — 
 There was racing, and chasing, o'er Cannobie Lee; 
 
ELEMENTS OF EMPHASIS IN COMBINATION. Ill 
 
 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. — 
 
 So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?" 
 
 Uncontrolled delight. 
 
 3. So you must wake and call me early, call me early, 
 
 mother dear; 
 
 To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad 
 New- Year: 
 
 To-morrow '11 be of all the year the maddest, mer- 
 riest day, 
 
 For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be 
 Queen o' the May. 
 
 Uncontrolled astonishment. 
 
 4. This drudge laid claim to me; called me Dromio; 
 swore I was assured to her; told me what private marks I 
 had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my 
 neck, the great wart on my left arm, — that I, amazed, ran 
 from her as a witch; and I think, if my breast had not been 
 made of faith, and my heart of steel, she had transformed 
 me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i' the wheel. 
 
 The extreme, uncontrolled terror, as in the scream of sudden fright. 
 
 Oh, murder, murder, murder! — who's there? 
 
 144. In the degree in which the mental state to be ex- 
 pressed is serious, grave, dignified or self-determined, for any 
 cause, the time is slow, the pitch, unvaried and loiv, the 
 force suppressed, and the vollime full (oratund, guttural 
 or pectoral). 
 
 Serious, grave, dignified, self-determined appeal. 
 
 1. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judg- 
 ment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. 
 All that I have, and all that I am, and all that I hope, in 
 this life, I am now ready here to stake upon it; and I leave 
 off, as I began, that live or die, survive or perish, I am for 
 the declaration. It is my living sentiment, and by the 
 blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment: independ- 
 ence, noiv; and independence forever. 
 
112 orator's manual. 
 
 Grave, dignified description of the grand or sublime. 
 
 2. Then the earth shook and trembled: the foundations 
 of heaven moved and shook, because he was wroth. There 
 went up a smoke out of his nostrils; and fire out of his 
 mouth devoured: coals were kindled by it. He bowed the 
 heavens, also, and came down; and darkness was under his 
 feet; and he rode upon a cherub, and did fly; and he was 
 seen upon the wings of the wind; and he made darkness 
 pavilions round about him, dark waters, and thick clouds of 
 the skies. The Lord thundered from heaven, and the Most 
 High uttered his voice; and he sent out arrows and scattered 
 them; lightning, and discomfited them. And the channels 
 of the sea appeared; the foundations of the world were dis- 
 covered at the rebuking of the Lord, at the blast of the 
 breath of his nostrils. 
 
 Grave horror, despair. 
 
 3. Some lay down 
 And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest 
 Their chins upon their clinched hands, and smiled; 
 And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
 
 Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up, 
 With mad disquietude, on the dull sky. 
 The pall of a past world; and then again 
 With curses, cast them down upon the dust, 
 And gnash'd their teeth, and howl'd. 
 
 The extreme, suppressed terror. 
 
 In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep 
 sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me and trembling, 
 which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed 
 before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood 
 still; but I could not discern the form thereof. An image 
 was before mine eyes; there was silence; and I heard a 
 voice saying, "Shall mortal man be more just than God? 
 Shall a man be more pure than his Maker? " 
 
 145. Irregular or uniisual combinations of the 
 
 elements of emphasis: The mind's judgment, motives, en- 
 ergy and feelings (§ 32) are not all of them invariably af- 
 fected in analogous ways by the same phraseology. We 
 cannot, therefore, always use the kinds of tiyne, pitch, force 
 and volume that as a rule accompany one another. 
 
ELEMEN-TS OF EMPHASi^ IN" COMBIN'ATIOH. 11^ 
 
 a. Here it is necessary to represent the light esteem in which the judgr- 
 ment holds the villains, — the objects of consideration: but it is also necessary 
 to represent that they have a serious and grave eTect upon its motives, 
 energy and feeling's. So we have fast time with low -pitchy suppressed force 
 and fall (orotund, guttural and aspirate) volume. 
 
 Villains! you did not threat when your vile daggers 
 
 Hacked one another in the sides of Caesar! 
 
 You showed your teeth like apes, and fawned like hounds, 
 
 And bowed like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet; 
 
 Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind, 
 
 Struck Caesar on the neck. Oh, flatterers! 
 
 b. Here the mind judges that the fact mentioned is of serious and grave 
 import, but this fact has an exhilarating, enlivening, i. e. a light, lively effect, 
 on its motives, energy and feelings. So we have slow time, with high 
 pitch, sustained force and fine (pure) volume. 
 
 Rejoice, ye men of Anglers! ring your bells. 
 
 King John, your king and England's, doth approach. 
 
 Open your gates, and give the victors way! 
 
 c. Here the motive is light, gay, lively, but judgment, energy and 
 feeling are prompted to treat what is seen as something worthy of serious con- 
 sideration. Hence we have high jnfch with comparatively slow time, unsus- 
 tained (natural) force and full volume. 
 
 Hurrah! hurrah! Come here ! It's perfectly splendid! You 
 can see one — two — three — four — five — you can see seven different 
 cascades ! 
 
 d. Here a serious and gj^ave motive needs to be represented ; but together 
 with it a judgment that holds the object of consideration in light esteem, 
 and energy and feeling that are well-nigh uncontrollable. So we have low 
 pitch with fast time, partially sustained force and thin (aspirated) volume. 
 
 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! 
 
 e. Here the mind is stimulated to activity and energy, befitting a gay, 
 lively mood, but its judgment, motives and feelings are affected as by 
 a serious, dignified consideration. So we have sustained force, with compara- 
 tively slow time, low pitch and full (orotund) volume. 
 
 Welcome her, welcome her, all that is ours! 
 Warble, bugle, and trumpet blare! 
 Flags flutter out upon turrets and towers 1 
 Flames on the windy headland flare! 
 5* 
 
114 orator's manual. 
 
 utter your jubilee, steeple and spire! 
 Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air! 
 Flash, ye cities in rivers of fire! 
 Rush to the roof, sudden rocket and higher 
 Melt into stars, for the land's desire! 
 
 f. Here no more energ-y is demanded than is appropriate for a serious, 
 earnest description, but the facts described are such as to have a light, gay, 
 lively effect in their appeal to the judg-ment, motives and feelings. So 
 we have unsustained (natural) force, with fast lime, high pitch and thin (pure) 
 volutne. 
 
 And gayety on restless tiptoe hovers, 
 
 Giggling with all the gallants who beset her; 
 
 And there are songs and quavers, roaring, humming, 
 
 Guitars, and every other sort of strumming. 
 
 And there are dresses, splendid, but fantastical. 
 
 Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews, 
 And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical, 
 
 Greeks, Romans, Yankee-doodles and Hindoos. 
 
 g-. Here the thought considered has a light, gay, at least, pleasurable, ef- 
 fect on the feelings, but to the judgment, motives and energy it appeals 
 as something worthy of serious attention. So we have thin (pure) volume with 
 comparatively slow time, low pitch and unsustained (natural) /orce. 
 
 The cheerful man is not only easy in his thoughts, but 
 a perfect master of all the powers and faculties of the soul: 
 his imagination is always clear, and his judgment undis- 
 turbed; his temper is even and unruffled, whether in action 
 or solitude. He comes with a relish to all those goods 
 which Nature has provided for him, tastes all the pleasures 
 of the creation which are poured about him, and does not 
 feel the full weight of those accidental evils which may 
 befall him. 
 
 h. Here the feelings are seriously and gravely affected, but the judg- 
 ment, for the time, holds the objects of consideration in light esteem, and the 
 motives and energy are both uncontrolled, rather than self-determined. So 
 we have full (orotund, guttural and aspirate) volume with comparatively fast 
 time, high pitch and sustained force. 
 
 You souls of geese, 
 That bear the shapes of men, how have you run 
 From slaves that apes would beat! — Pluto and hell! 
 All hurt behind; backs red and faces pale 
 With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, 
 Or by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe. 
 And make my wars on you: look to't: come on! 
 
TRANSITIOI^S AND MODULATION". 115 
 
 146. In Oratory the very fact that ideas are presented at all, 
 implies that the mind judges them to be important, so far as con- 
 cerns its measurement of them; but, in the degree in which one 
 becomes eloquent, their effect on its motives and energy is that of 
 something exciting, animating, transporting; accordingly, 
 
 a. The different parts of an Oration should be emphasized 
 thus: The moveme)it throughout (whether relatively fast (?\ slow) 
 should be somewhat sloiver than in ordinary conversation , while 
 pitch and force should usually be somewhat more high, varied, loud 
 and sustained. Usually, both in opening and closing, the movement 
 should be quite slow, the pitch about the same as in conversation, 
 and force just enough to make one's self heard. 
 
 TRANSITIONS AND MODULATION. 
 
 147. Transitions occur wherever there are decided 
 changes in the sentiment (from light or%ay, for example, to 
 weighty or grave). §§ 142-144 require that these should 
 be represented by corresponding changes in time, pitch, 
 force and volume. The changes themselves are called 
 Transitions; the method of producing them with proper 
 elocutionary effect is Modulation. 
 
 Tlie secret of making Transitions well, is to make them so 
 that, while sufficiently marked to indicate the passage from one set 
 of ideas to another, they shall not be made so abruptly as to inter- 
 fere ivith the effect of unity or continuity in the delivery consiaered as 
 a whole; in other words, so that while separating and emphasizing 
 particular ideas, they shall not interrupt the flow of the general 
 thought. This should pass from an impetuous to a quiet, or from a 
 quiet to an impetuous passage, very much as water flows from a 
 running stream into a still pond, or vice versa, — with more or less of 
 a gradual abatement or increase of energy. The enthusiasm, for 
 example, that causes a rush of words in one passage, like the mo- 
 mentum urging on the waters of a cataract, will be carried over 
 somewhat into a succeeding passage, no matter how calm in itself 
 may be the nature of the thought that this latter presents. Hence 
 the following principles, which one speaking with great earnestness 
 will apply instinctively, but which, for ordinary occasions, one must 
 learn to apply. 
 
 148. One should prepare for a transition 
 
 a. In time, in the degree in which the change is great, by one or 
 more decidedly long pauses. 
 
116 oratoe's ma:n^ual. 
 
 b. Tn pitch, in addition to the pauses, by one or more long 
 slides, or a succession of syllables, decidedlij ascending or descending 
 
 the scale to meet the pitch that is to follow. (Practice § 13.) 
 
 c. In force or volume, in addition to the pauses, hy a corre- 
 spondingly gradual change in each of these. (Practice § 13.) 
 
 149. In the following, the preparation for the more weighty and 
 grave conclusion must be made by pausing and slowly descending 
 the scale, with less and less force, in the passage ''now lies he 
 ihere ' ' : 
 
 Ant. But yesterday, the word of Csesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world: now \ lies \ he \ there, 
 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. 
 
 a. Make a similar change in the third and fourth lines of the 
 following : 
 
 " Glory to God! " unnumbered voices sung; 
 " Glory to God! " the vales and mountains rung; 
 Voices that hailed creation's primal morn, 
 And to the shepherds sung a Savior born. 
 Slowly, bareheaded, through the surf we bore 
 The sacred cross, and, kneeling, kissed the shore. 
 
 b. In the following, gradually ascend scale and increase in 
 rapidity and force, on "the bright sunrises,'" ''not such as,'' and 
 ^'slaves to a horde/' Descend and decrease in rapidity, but not in force, 
 on " a race of slaves,'" "falls on a slave,"" "base, ignoble slaves,'''' etc. 
 
 We are slaves! 
 The bright ' sun \ rises to his course, | and lights | 
 A RACE OF slaves! He sets, | and his last ' beam 
 Falls oisT a slave: 7iot such as, \ swept ' along ' 
 By the full ' tide of power, | the conqueror | leads 
 To crimson ' glory | and undying ' fame, | — 
 But BASE, ' IGNOBLE slaves ! — slaves ' to a horde 
 
 Of PETTY TYRA^-TS, FEUDAL ' DESPOTS; 16rds, | 
 
 Rich I in some dozen ' paltry ' villages; | 
 
 Strong I in some hundred ' spearmen; | only ' great 
 
 In that I strange | spell — a name ! 
 
 c. Gradually increase the emphasis in the fifth and sixth lines of 
 the following. Study j?ar^icM?aW«/ § 97, and examples; also §107: a. 
 
 He left my side, 
 A summer bloom on his fair cheeks — a smile 
 Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 
 
TRANSITIOJN^S AND MODULATIOiq". 117 
 
 The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
 The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
 For vengeance! Eouse, ye Romans! Rouse, ye slaves! 
 Have ye brave sons? — Look in the next fierce brawl 
 To see them die! Have ye fair daughters? — Look 
 To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
 Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
 Be answered by the lash! 
 
 d. Practice also the modulation in the following: {si. slow; qu. 
 quick; mod. moderate time; h. high; I. low; med. medium pitch; 
 /. loud; ff. very loud; p. pp. soft; nat. natural force; 0. orotund; 
 P. pure; A. aspirate; G. guttural.) 
 
 ONLY IMPORTANT PAUSES INSERTED. 
 
 sl. h.f. o. Once more \ unto the breach, \ dear friends, 
 
 once I mdt^e, \ 
 abate. Or close the wall up \ with our English | dead! 
 
 mod. med. j In peace, I there's nothing so becomes a man, 
 varied p. p. | ^g modest stillness I and humility; 
 increase,A. ^^t when the blast of war \ blows in our ears, 
 g^. ^_ j Then | imitate the action of the tiger; 
 ff- ^- ( Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 
 abate. Disguise \ fair nature | with hard- | favored | 
 
 rage. 
 'OiT, ON, I you noblest | English, 
 Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war- 
 proof ! 
 Fathers, | that, like so many | Alexanders, 
 Have, I in these parts, | from morn till even \ 
 f6ught, 
 
 abate. And sheathed their sivords for lack of argument. 
 
 qu.risingA I see you stand I like greyhounds in the slips, | 
 qu h f \ straining upon the start. The game's afoot; 
 ( Follow your spirits, | and upon this | charge | 
 sl.h.ff.o. Cry — Heaven | for Harry! England! and St. 
 George ! 
 
 150. In the transition of the paragraph, i.e. when 
 passing from one phase or division of a subject to another, 
 a gradual change in time, pitch, force and volume should be 
 made, according to the sentiment, either on the last words 
 of a closing paragraph^ or on the first words of an opening 
 one. 
 
 mod. 
 ff-0. 
 
118 ORATOR S MAN^UAL. 
 
 Sometimes it is immaterial which of these courses is adopted; 
 but generally, as in the following extract, the sentiment will deter- 
 mine this. Let the student read this extract over, intentionally 
 increasing his speed and power, and raising his pitch toward the end 
 of each paragraph, so as to learn how to make, smoothly and natu- 
 rally, the transitions in movement, pitch and force, that his following 
 this direction will necessitate. 
 
 1. One can never ' think ' of that French ' boy, | eigh- 
 teen ' years of age, | just ' married, | rolling ' in wealth, | 
 and basking ' in the sunshine ' of court ' favor, | sending 
 up ' from the Tuileries ' of Paris | his shout ' for us | and 
 our ' cause, || without the deepest | emotion. Our admira- 
 tion ' and affection | are not ' lessened | when we see him 
 I lavishing ' his wealth \ on our naked, ' famishing ' sol- 
 diers — ivinding himself, \ in child- ' like ' love, \ round the 
 great ' heart ' of our Washington — charging like a veteran 
 through the RANKS | of our FOEMEN, || and carried ||| pale 
 and bleeding | || from our ' disastrous || fields. ||| 
 
 There is s6mething || exquisitely || toiiching | and beauti- 
 ful I in the enthusiasm ' of this ' youth | in our behalf. 
 France \ wished us ' success, | because it would revenge 
 her I for the loss ' of her colonies | in this country, | and 
 weaken ' the power ' of her rival | in the New ' World; 
 but these motives | never entered into the heart ' of La 
 Fayette. He | saw only a weak ' but brave ' people | strug- 
 gling to be free, \ and, overlooking \ all ' questions of interest, 
 breaking AWAY || from all ' ties ' of home, \ family, \ and 
 country, \ threw himself ' ALOi^'E | into our arms.! Nation- 
 al ' py^ejiidice, \ the jealousy ' of our officers, \ and the cold- 
 ness ' of Congress, \ could not check || the warm ' current' 
 of his sympathy. For us | he was determined ' to contend 
 I in 6ur ' cause, ' expend ' his fortune \ and peril ' his life. 
 Not an exile \ nor an adventurer, \ but a wealthy, ' flattered 
 'young ' nobleman, | he cast from him | the luxuries ' and 
 gayeties ' of the French ' court, \ turned away from all' 
 the HOisrORS | that clustered ' in his path, \ and became' 
 the COMPANION" ' of our ' poverty ' and toils — || the 
 jest II and 6?/- word | of kings. ||| 
 
 Few II men || have passed | through || so ' many i and so 
 ' fearful || changes. From a young ' courtier | he passed 
 into the self-denying, | toilsome ' life | of a general ' in the 
 
TRANSITIONS AND MODULATION. 119 
 
 ill- ' clotlied, I ill- ' fed, | and ill- ' disciplined | American ' 
 army — || thence | into the vortex ' of the French ' Revo- 
 lution I and^ all Us ' horrors — thence into the gloomy ' 
 prison ' of Olrautz. After a few ' years ' of retirement, | 
 he appeared ' on our ' shores | to receive the ivelcome || of a 
 grateful || people, \ to hear a nation | shout | his ' PRAISE, 
 n and BEAR him | from o^e ' limit ' of the LAND ' to ANOTH- 
 ER I in its arms. 
 
 * A FEW II YEARS || pciss ' hij, \ and, II with his gray ' hairs \ 
 falling about his aged ' countenance, | he stands ' amid the 
 students ' of Paris, | and sends ' his feeble ' shout ' of de- 
 fiance I to the throne ' of the Bourbon, \ and it \ falls. Ris- 
 ing I more ' by his virtue ' than his intellect, | he holds ' a 
 prominent ' place ' in the history ' of France, | and, link- 
 ed ' with Washington. | goes down ' to a GREATER IM- 
 MORTALITY I than awaits \ any \ EMPEROR ! or 7nere WAR- 
 RIOR I of the HUMAN ' RACE. 
 
 * His LOVE I for this country || was deep \ and abiding. To 
 the last I his heart turned ' hither, j and well it might. His 
 career ' of glory | began on our ' shores — on our ' cause \ he 
 staked his reputation, | fortune, and life, | and in our \ suc- 
 cess I received the benediction of the good \ throughout ' the 
 tvorld. 
 
 151. The following is full of violent transitions, and for this 
 
 teason affords excellent practice. 
 
 P I should be surprised, | indeed, | if, | while you are do- 
 ing us wrong, | you did not profess ' 3'our solicitude | to 
 do us justice. From the day ' on which Strongbow | set 
 his foot ' upon the shore ' of Ireland, | Englishmen ' were 
 never ' ivdnting \ in protestations ' of their deep ' anx- 
 
 /■ iety I to do us ' jtistice; | even Strafford, | the deserter ' 
 
 f of the people's ' cause, | the renegade Wentworth, \ who 
 gave evidence ' in Ireland | of the spirit ' of instinctive 
 tyranny | which predominated ' in his character, — even 
 Strafford, \ while he trampled ' upon our rights, | and 
 trod ' upon the heart ' of the country, protested Ms solic- 
 itude I to do justice ' to Ireland! What marvel is it, then, 
 
 * uttered forcibly, that the transition may not be too abrupt. 
 
120 orator's manual. 
 
 that gentlemen ' opposite \ should deal ' in such vehe- 
 / ment ' protestations? There is, ' however, | one ' man, | 
 p of great ' abilities, — not a member ' of this House, | but 
 s-wwhose talents | and whose boldness | have placed him ' on 
 the topmost ' place ' in his party, — who, | disdaining all ' 
 imposture, | and thinking it ' the best ' course | to ap- 
 peal ' directly | to the religious | and national ] antipa- 
 thies I of the people ' of this country | — abandoning ' 
 all ' reserve, | and flinging ' off | the slender ' veil | by 
 which his political ' associates | affect ' to cover, | al- 
 sl though they cannot hide | their m6tives, — distinctly ' and 
 audaciously | tells ' the Irish ' people | that they are not 
 f entitled \ to the same ' privileges | as Englishmen ; \ and 
 p pronounces them, | in any ' particular | which could en- 
 guter his minute ' enumeration ' of the circumstances | by 
 which fellow ' citizenship ' is created, | in race, | iden- 
 sl tity I and religion, | to be aliens; \ to be aliens \ in race, i| 
 if to be aliens \ in country, \\ to be aliens \ in religion ! 
 ALIENS! i g6od || GOD! 1 was Arthur | Duke i of Wel- 
 lington, I in the House ' of Lords, | and did he not start 
 up II and exclaim: | ''Hold! \ I have seen \ the aliens \ do || 
 THEIR II DUTY! " II The DUKE* | of Wellington || is not | 
 P a MAN II of an excitable || temperament. || His mind is of a 
 cast I too martial \ to be easily \ moved ; but, notwithstand- 
 gwing ' his habitual ' inflexibility, | I cannot | help | think- 
 ing I that, when he heard ' his Eoman ' Catholic ' coun- 
 trymen (for we are his c6untrymen) designated by a 
 phrase | as offensive | as the abundant ' vocabulary ' of 
 his eloquent ' confederate ' could supply, || — I cannot | 
 si help I thinking | that he ought ' to have recollected | the 
 / many ' fields ' of fight \ in which ' we have been ' con- 
 
 * uttered forcibly, that the transition may not be too abrupt. 
 
TRAN"SITI01^S AKD MODULATION". 121 
 
 tributors ' to his renown. " The battles, | sieges, | f6r- 
 
 tunes I that he has passed," | ought | to have come ' 
 
 hack ' upon him. He ought to have remembered | that, ' 
 
 g-wfrom the earliest achievement | in which he displayed ' 
 
 that military ' genius | which has placed him ' foremost | 
 
 in the annals ' of modern ' warfare, | down to that last ' 
 
 si and surpassing ' combat | which has made his name | im- 
 
 ff perishaUe, \ — from AssATE | to Waterloo, — the Irish ' 
 
 / soldiers, | with whom ' your armies ' are filled, \ were 
 
 the inseparable ' auxiliaries ' to the gl6ry | with which his 
 
 unparalleled ' successes | have been crowned. | Whose \ 
 
 were the arms — that drove ' your bayonets ' at Vimiera | 
 
 / through the phalanxes | that never reeled ' in the shock of 
 
 / war I hefore? \ What || desperate || valor || climbed | the 
 
 steeps II and filled || the moats || at Badajos? All || his 
 
 fi-M victories | should have rushed \ and crowded \ hack || upon 
 
 his memory, \ — Vimiera, \ Badajds, \ Salamanca, | Albu- 
 
 si era, \ Toulouse, \ and, last ' of all, | the greatest ||| — . 
 
 ff TELL ME II — for you were there, i — I appeal to the gal- 
 
 i^glant soldier before me | (Sir Henry Hardinge), from whose 
 
 opinions ' I differ, | but who bears, ' I know, | a gener- 
 
 / ous ' heart | in an intrepid breast, | — tell me, | — for 
 
 you must needs remember, | — on that day | when the 
 
 g-M destinies ' of mankind ' were trefnUing ' in the balance, | 
 
 while death ' fell in showers, | when the artillery ' of 
 
 France | was leveled ' with a precision ' of the most | 
 
 deadly ' science || — when her legions, | incited by the 
 
 voice I and inspired by the example | of their mighty | 
 
 leader, | rushed again | and again | to the onset || — TELL 
 
 me II if, I for an instant, | when to hesitate ' for an instant ' 
 
 jrwas to be lost, | the "aliens" ||| BLENCHED ? And 
 
 si when, ' at length, | the moment for the last ' and decided ' 
 
 6 
 
122 orator's manual. 
 
 f movement | had arrived, | and the valor | v^hich had so 
 gulong ' been v^isely ' checked | Mras, ' at last, | let loose, — 
 when, I with words ' familiar, ' but imm6rtal, \ the great 1 
 captain | commanded the great \ assault, — TELL ME | if 
 ff CATHOLIC I IRELAND with less | heroic | valor | than 
 si the natives ' of this | your own ' glorious ' country | pre- 
 / cipitated herself | upon the foe? The blood | of England, | 
 P Scotland | and of Ireland | flowed in the same || stream, | 
 ??i? and drenched ' the same || field. | When the chill ' morn- 
 ing ' dawned, | their dead | lay cold ' and stark | together; 
 in the same | deep | pit | their bodies ' were deposited; | 
 the green ' corn ' of spring | is now breaking ' from their 
 commingled \ dust; the dew ' falls from heaven | upon 
 their union | in the grave. Partakers ' in every ' peril, | 
 / in the glory | shall we not be permitted ' to participate ; | 
 and ■' shall we be told, | as a reqtiital, | that we are es- 
 tranged ' from the noble ' c6untry | for whose ' salvation) 
 our life-blood | was poured ' 6ut? 
 {See, also, §§ 211-225: 7, 12, 14, 15, 25, 34, 35, 36, 46, 48, 52, 53.) 
 
 MASSING OR GROUPING. 
 
 152. We have learned (§ 21) that words, or series of words, as- 
 sociated with one another, either by being in apposition or by having 
 similar grammatical relationships or general characteristics, are 
 similarly emphasized. This principle, especially in long and in- 
 volved sentences, leads to the massing or grouping* together of 
 words or clauses, important or unimportant, so that the ear shall 
 readily detect the connection between them. To understand this 
 principle, compare illustrations under § 21 : a, § 22, § 38: a, §§ 40-42. 
 
 153. The Emphatic Tye is used to connect together 
 
 important ideas that are separated by unimportant clauses. 
 
 a. It results when two words separated by intervening ones are 
 similarly emphasized; i. e. are uttered in similar time (preceded 
 and followed by pauses of the same length), and usually, too, at a 
 similar pitch., with similar inflections and force. 
 
MASSIIS^G OR GROUPING. 123 
 
 b. Unempliatic ideas in clauses that separate important 
 words, are similarly slighted; i. e. are uttered with a similar rapid- 
 ity of general movement, and usually with a similar abatement in 
 the height of pitch and degree oi force. 
 
 c. In the following the words in italics are to be emphasized 
 with the emphatic tye. 
 
 As men from men 
 Do, in the constitution of their souls, 
 Differ by mysteries not to be explained ; 
 And as we fall by various ways, and sink 
 Through manifold degrees to guilt and shame; 
 So manifold and various are the ways 
 Of restoration. 
 
 When Babel was confounded, and the great 
 Confederacy of projectors, wild and vain, 
 Was split into diversity of tongues; 
 Then, as a shepherd separates his flock, — 
 These to the upland, to the valley those, — 
 God drave asunder, and assigned their lot 
 To all the nations. 
 
 Consulting what I feel within, 
 In times when most Existence with herself 
 Is satisfied, I cannot but believe 
 That, far as kindly Nature hath free scope. 
 And Reason's sway predominates, even so far, 
 Country, society, and even time itself. 
 That saps the individual's bodily frame, 
 And lays the generations low in dust, 
 Do. by the Almighty Ruler's grace, partake 
 Of one maternal spirit. 
 
 All night the dreadless angel, unpursued, 
 Through heaven's wide champaign held his way till morn, 
 Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand. 
 Unbarred the gates of light. 
 (See, also, selections in §§ 211-226: 1, 7, 12, 25, 51, 53.) 
 
 154. By Drift is meant a mode of delivery in which 
 pauses, inflections (if upward, starting low; if downward, 
 
124 orator's manual. 
 
 starting high) and stress of a similar kind are constantly 
 recurring at regular intervals. The following can be spoken 
 with drift: 
 
 We consecrate our work to ihe spirit of national independence, 
 and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it forever. We 
 rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit which 
 has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences 
 which have been produced, by the same events, on the general 
 interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot 
 which must forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that 
 whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold 
 that the place is not undistinguished, where the first great battle of 
 the Revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may pro- 
 claim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class and 
 every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its 
 erection from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may 
 behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. 
 We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst of 
 its toil. We wish that, in those days of disaster which, as they 
 come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, despond- 
 ing patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that 
 the foundations of our national power still stand strong. We wish 
 that this column, rising toward heaven among the pointed spires of 
 so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce 
 in all minds a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, 
 finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native 
 shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something 
 which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. 
 Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest hght of 
 the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit. 
 {See, also, selections in §§ 214, 215, 218, 219; also §76: a.) 
 a. The possibility of applying drift to delivery depends largely 
 on ihe rhetorical construction of sentences. An oration should 
 always be written with direct reference to the requirements of 
 speaking. 
 
 CLIMAX. 
 
 This is fully explained in §§ 83-85, and illustrated m 
 selections in § 215. 
 
GESTUEE. 
 
 155. By this is meant the art of representing thought through 
 the movements of the body. There is a negative and a positive side 
 to the subject. The first has to do with the different members of 
 the body when one is not gesticulating; the second, when one is 
 gesticulating. 
 
 Positions and Movements of the Body when Not 
 Gesturing. 
 
 156. a. The Head and Trunk. Face what is before 
 you, and yet hold the chin down; — down, i. e. in distinction 
 from up or out, as if the chin were pointing forward. 
 This is a simple rule which, if observed in standing or 
 walking, usually causes an erect position and graceful 
 bearing. If carried out, it will throw the shoulders and 
 back into an erect position, with the least possible danger 
 of causing it to seem to be a stiff one. 
 
 b. Avoid holding the head, trunk or shoulders too much 
 
 I. Thrown hack or up. People do not like to have one seem to 
 look above them. It suggests self-conceit or arrogance, § 200. 
 
 II. Hung down. For an opposite reason, this suggests humility, 
 bashfulness, shame. 
 
 III. Inclined to one side. This suggests languor. 
 
 IV. Too stiffly in any position. This suggests an unyielding 
 temperament or an uncultivated bearing. 
 
 157. a. The Hands and Arms may hang at the sides, with 
 palms toward the body and fingers bent; or 
 
 b. They may both be placed low down in front with the elbows 
 slightly bent, and the fingers together, clasped or unclasped; or 
 
 c. One hand may hang at the side, and the other be held on the 
 waist, as if preparing to gesture. In this hand the thumb may rest 
 in the watch chain, or the finger be pointing down, or all fingers be 
 folded together. 
 
 d. Avoid having one or both hands 
 
 I. Out of sight behind the bach, suggesting backwardness, 
 awkwardness. 
 
 125 
 
126 okatoe's manual. 
 
 II. Playing tvUh each other, with the clothing or the watch chain, 
 /suggesting- nervousness or embarrassment. 
 
 158. In Reading, hold the hook in the left hand, slightly to one 
 side, so as not to hide the face; and gesture with the right hand. 
 
 159. The Feet and Liower Limbs. Arrange the 
 feet, in standing, about four inches apart, and so that a 
 straight line drawn through one foot from toe to heel will 
 pass through the heel of the other. {See §§ 161, 162.) 
 
 a. This is the position assumed naturally by all strong men who 
 are also graceful. In taking this position, avoid placing the feet 
 
 I. Too far apart, as if bracing one's self against opposition. 
 
 II. Too near together, as if unprepared to meet opposition. 
 The position should not suggest opposition in any form. 
 
 160. Stand firmly, with loth knees unbent; uat resting the 
 body 
 
 I. On one foot — not on both of them; 
 
 XL On the ball and heel of the foot — not on either exclusively. 
 
 a. This position will throw the body slightly forward of the 
 feet, as if about to step toward the audience, and will throw the hips 
 a little to one side, into such a position that a line drawn perpen- 
 dicularly through the center of the head and trunk above will pass 
 through the heel of the fov^t on which the body rests. 
 
 b. The body may lean on the front foot, and incline slightly for- 
 ward in earnest appeal. In dispassionate address it usually rests on 
 the foot behind. 
 
 Avoid 
 
 I. Moving up and down on the toes, and appearing unsteady. 
 
 II. Changing often the position of the feet, and appearing un- 
 settled. 
 
 III. Bending often, or holding, in a visibly hent position, one ot 
 both of the knees. Always stand or walk with the knee on which 
 the body rests made as straight as possible. Few who appear to be 
 weak-kneed themselves can awaken the confidence of others. 
 
 IV. Resting equally upon both feet. This is ungraceful, suggest- 
 ing a lack of repose — that a man apprehends disturbance — is 
 anxious to walk away. 
 
 V. Leaning too far to one side. Above the hips, the trunk and 
 head should be erect. One should not appear to need support. A 
 man of firm understanding should stand firmly. 
 
 161. In shifting- the position (not walking) in order to throw 
 
GESTICULATION. 127 
 
 the weight of the body on the foot that has been resting, either take 
 one step forward or backward, or lift the heels slightly and turn on 
 the balls of the feet. 
 
 a. Shift the position while speaking, and just before or after a 
 transition, and time the steps to the accent or emphasis on important 
 syllables. 
 
 162. In -walking across the stage, the orator, as distin- 
 guished from the actor, usually needs to face, in order to keep con- 
 trol of, his audience. If he gives them the side view that is afforded 
 when they see his legs and feet cross each other, he runs a risk of 
 losing this control. Some years ago the author made the following 
 chart from the positions taken by the feet of Edward Everett during 
 one of his orations. They seemed to be studied. 
 
 
 
 [AUDIENCE.] 
 
 
 
 "n; 
 
 
 ,• 
 
 ^. 
 
 ■s^; 
 
 ^/ 
 
 
 Ai^' 
 
 
 V 
 
 ^-..2-'' 
 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 Beginning at A, he kept gradually drawing one foot behind the 
 other till, in the course of five or ten minutes, he had reached B. 
 From B, during an animated passage, he walked rapidly across the 
 stage to C, but moved forward diagonally, with the right foot fore- 
 most, so none saw his feet cross. Then he retired gradually to 
 D, and from here walked across to A again, with the left foot fore- 
 most ; and so on throughout the evening. This chart will also serve 
 to show how the position mentioned in § 159 can always be main- 
 tained. 
 
 Positions and Movements of the Body when 
 Gesturing. 
 
 163. Of these, there are two kinds, usually more or less 
 combined, yet which, for the sake of explanation, may be 
 
128 orator's man"UAL. 
 
 separated. They are the objective gestures, nsed mainly 
 in Oratory; and the subjective ones, used mainly in dra- 
 matic reading or acting. Both represent and enforce what 
 a man thinks with reference to a subject. But the former 
 do this in order to show the relation of the subject to the 
 audience; the latter, to show the relation of the subject to 
 the speaker. In the former^ the general direction of all the 
 movements is from the speaker (his head, heart, and body 
 generally,) toward the audience; in the latter, the direction 
 of the movements is from the audience toward the speaker. 
 We will consider, first, the 
 
 OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 
 The Head and Trunk. 
 
 164. The movements of the head in ordinary Oratory should 
 be few, and, except in the case of the bow, usually accompanied by 
 gestures of the hands. If these, the most instinctive vehicles of 
 expression, are held still, while the head moves, there is an appear- 
 ance of restraint, and the effect is stiff and ungraceful. For a similar 
 reason, a very slight hoiv often accompanies an emphatic hand- 
 gesture. For gestures with the head alone, eyes, nose, mouth, and 
 countenance generally, see §§ 195-198. Here we will consider only 
 the bow. 
 
 165. Bow slowly; start the movement in the middle of 
 the spine; carry the shoulders slightly forward, slightly 
 crushing in the chest, and incline the head from the neck; 
 but keep the eyes on the audience, and the hands motion- 
 less, except so far as they fall forward naturally with the 
 shoulders. 
 
 a. Avoid, therefore, making the bow 
 
 I. Too rapidly. The bow represents thought just starting or 
 just ending^; in neither case, therefore, under sufficient headway to 
 justify excitement. 
 
 II. From the neck alone. It then appears presumptuous — too 
 flippant and familiar. 
 
 III. From the waist mainly. It then appears repelling — too 
 stiff and dig-nified. 
 
 IV. With the eyes on the floor, as if one had no oversight nor 
 control of his audience. 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 129 
 
 V. With hands swinging too loosely, as if one had no control 
 of himself. 
 
 The Hands and Arms. 
 
 166. The first principle with regard to these is not to 
 exaggerate their importance. 
 
 No one can be an orator who cannot attract and interest an 
 audience by merely the modulations of his voice. It is good prac- 
 tice sometimes to refrain from gestures, and to try to produce ex- 
 pression and effects without them. 
 
 167. A second principle is, never to gesticulate except 
 to emphasize ideas. This principle leads one to 
 
 a. Avoid making gestures at or near the beginning 
 of a speech; 
 
 Except, of course, when there is some exciting cause or reason 
 for it, as at the opening of a prayer or benediction. Usually, it is 
 only after thought is under headway that it appears natural to 
 represent it as having sufficient momentum to move the body as well 
 as the mind. This same principle leads us also to 
 
 b. Avoid making gestures, except so far as the mean- 
 ing of them is understood. 
 
 Their object is to give additional expression, emphasis and repre- 
 sentation to ideas. They can do this, so far only as they are used 
 intelligently. Before proceeding, therefore, it is necessary, first of 
 all, that we understand the following: 
 
 168. The Significance of the Hand and Arm 
 Gestures may be ascertained or verified by noticing, in 
 part, the natural movements of children and of grown peo- 
 ple; and in part, the artistic movements and attitudes 
 employed in the best elocutionary delivery, painting and 
 sculpture. 
 
 a. The Movements of the Arms convey the hands from 
 one position to another, — down or up perpevdicidarh/, round about 
 the hodij horizontally ; or, as sometimes happens, both perpendicu- 
 larly and horizontally at the same time. A little attention to the 
 circumstances under which these movements take place will evince 
 that they are all, to some extent, representative. A man makes 
 them either because he is viewing or imagining external objects, and 
 
130 oeator's manual. 
 
 describing them and his relation to them, or because he instinct- 
 ively conceives of some analogy between the relation that he might 
 sustain to such objects and the attitude which his mind actually does 
 sustain to the subject which he wishes to emphasize. In both cases 
 the direction taken by the arms indicates the general direction or 
 tendency of the thoughts. In other words, 
 
 169. The Arms move downward, upward, or 
 round about the body, to represent, respectively, what is 
 (really or ideally) under, above or 07i a level ivith the actor ; 
 i.e. the actor's sight (point of view), grasp (melital compre- 
 hension), or control (will-power). He uses each movement 
 respectively in the degree in whicli lie conceives of himself 
 as the master, slave or associate of the thing thought of. 
 
 a. It is sometimes said that the downward^ upward and round- 
 abeut directions of the arms emphasize, respectively, conceptions 
 that have to do with the will, imagination and intellect. But 
 it is thought that the principle just stated is more simple, both to 
 understand and to apply, as well as more comprehensive of all the 
 circumstances under which it is natural to use these movements. 
 (^ee§175.) 
 
 170. The arrangement of the Hands in the gesture is evi- 
 dently intended to give a peculiar character to the movement up 
 and down or about the body ; i.e. to represent the character 
 of the thoughts^ the direction and tendency of which are indicated 
 by the arms. 
 
 a. When, for instance, one's sensibilities are uppermost : when 
 he is moved to feel and touchy for the purpose of welcoming or of 
 repelling, of fondling or of pushing off, he uses the hand with the 
 fingers unclasped. Therefore, 
 
 b. The hand unclasped, whether used in emphasis or descrip- 
 tion, represents the sensibilities, — thought that is emotional in its 
 character, addressing itself to the emotions and sympathies of an 
 audience. There are two forms in which the unclasped hand may 
 be used, they are as follows : 
 
 171. The Opening Gesture. This 
 term is used not only on account of the 
 peculiar movement of the fingers open- 
 ing the palm to the audience, which in- 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 131 
 
 variably accompanies tliis gesture when it is rightly made, 
 but because the gesture itself signifies an open mind, repre- 
 sents the act of receiving or giving ; receiving from the 
 mind to convey outward, or from without to convey to the 
 mind. It indicates, when used 
 
 a. Emphatically, the opening of a channel of expres- 
 sion or impression ; 
 
 b. Descriptively, anything conceived of as open to 
 tliought or activity ^ therefore as unlimited, unci7'cumscrihed, 
 free. 
 
 C. For the application of this principle to the different 
 forms of the opening gesture, as made downward, upward, 
 or about the body, see § 175. 
 
 172. The Closing Gesture. This 
 term is used not only because the hand, 
 when making this gesture, especially if 
 in a downward direction, seems about 
 ready to drop, with fingers closed, to its normal position at 
 the side, but because the gesture, whenever it is made, sug- 
 gests the idea of closing the mind to outside influence, of 
 pushing down or away, or of warding off, repressing ; and, in 
 the degree in which the wrist is bent up vigorously, of 
 repelling any object of sight or thought from the mind's 
 consideration. It indicates, when used 
 
 a. Emphatically, the closing of the channel of expres- 
 sion or impression ; 
 
 b. Descriptively, anything conceived of as closed out 
 from or closed in ; so anything limited or circumscribed, and 
 this, too, in the sense of being separated from something 
 else by outlines. It is used, therefore, in describing most 
 things that are accurately delineated. 
 
 c. For the application of this principle to the different 
 
132 
 
 forms of the closing gesture, as made downward, upward, 
 or about the body, see § 175. 
 
 173. When one's intellect is tippermost, when he is 
 analyzing^ selecting and pouiting out what he sees and 
 knows, rather than what he feels or wills, and always when 
 he is not moved by sufficient depth of sentiment or deter- 
 mination to be anything but playful^ he uses Ids finger. 
 
 a. The Finger gesture, therefore, represents that which 
 is analytical in its character, addressing the intellect, and 
 directing attention, whether by way of emphasis or descrip- 
 tion, to individual persons, objects or arguments. 
 
 b. When one's will is uppermost, when he has deter- 
 mination and fight in him, and is addressing neither the 
 sympathies nor the intellect but rather forcing the wills of 
 those about him, he doubles up his fist. 
 
 C. The Fist gesture, therefore, represents that which is 
 forcible in its character, addressing itself to the ivill and 
 the activities; when used descriptively, it represents that 
 which can grasp, confine or control. 
 
 d. The Fist and Finger gestures are sometimes combined, 
 the thumb folded upon the three clasped fingers. Tliis rep- 
 resents one's determination with reference to some individ- 
 ual person or object. 
 
 174. Double Gestures, made with both hands, increase 
 the degree, not the kind, of emphasis that would be given by 
 the same gesture if made with one hand. 
 
 a. An Opening Gesture, made with one hand at one side, at 
 the same time as a Closing Gesture at the other side, indicates 
 that the mind conceives of a subject both in its possibilities of 
 free expansion (the Opening- Gesture) and of limitation (the Closing 
 Gesture). 
 
 b. When from this position the two hands are brought in front, 
 with the fingers of the palm that is down (Closing) striking the palm 
 that is up (Opening), it simply gives additional emphasis to this 
 idea: that the mind is conceiving of a subject as completely under its 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 133 
 
 grasp (§§ 171, 173,) from beginning to end, where activity begins 
 and where it stops. 
 
 c. The two hands together, with the fingers siraight and palms 
 touching, indicate a conscious (otherwise the hands would remain at 
 the sides) restraining of the tendency to enforce one's own views by 
 appeahng to others (the Opening position), and this either because 
 the time has not come for enforcement, as when held below at the 
 beginning of a speech, or because it would be of no avml as referring 
 to something above one's control, as when held above, in supplica- 
 tion. 
 
 d. The two hands together, with the fingers straight and clasped, 
 but the palms down (Closing position), add to the same indication a 
 suggestion of independence. They show that the man does not care 
 about enforcing his views; that he will hold them irrespective of the 
 influence of others, which influence he is willing to close out. 
 
 e. The two hands with the fingers folded and clasped, palms 
 together, indicate something rigidly (clasp) restraining the tendency 
 to enforce one's own views when appealing (Opening position). The 
 restraint may come from the man himself, from his own feelings 
 (nerves), thoughts or will, as when the hands are held below; or 
 from something outside or above himself, as when held in front or 
 above the head in violent supplication. 
 
 ^W The general principles determining the significance of the 
 difi'erent kinds of objective gestures described in these pages — not 
 to the extent that might be possible, but suflBciently to answer all 
 the requirements of ordinary oratory — have never been explained, 
 as is believed, in the same way as in the present work; but it is 
 simply a matter of justice to state that the gesture movements 
 treated in the sections following page 136, which, in substance, have 
 been taught for several years by the author and also by his pupils, 
 were at first derived (how fully the author himself cannot now de- 
 termine) from a portion of the very ingenious and successful methods, 
 which it is hoped will at some time be published, originally taught 
 in the University of Pennsylvania, by Professor S. M. Cleveland. 
 
 Note. — The chart on the next two pages (134-5), which unfolds 
 further the foregoing principles, should be read across the pages as 
 well as up and down them. In it, everything that is said oi' any 
 one arrangement of the hands is placed in the same column; and 
 everything that is said of any one directi(m or position of the arms is 
 placed in paragraphs which in the difi'erent columns occupy the same 
 part of the pages. The black letters (1 o or o etc.) indicate the forms 
 of the gestures which will be found represented in the cuts on pages 
 137, 139 and 141. 
 
134 
 
 obator's manual. 
 
 175. Chart showing the significance of the Gestures. 
 
 Arm Positions. 
 
 a. Low Ges- 
 ture, marked 1., 
 would refer to a path 
 under one's point of 
 view; assert a beUef 
 conceived to be un- 
 der (or within) one's 
 comprehension; or 
 enforce an obliga- 
 tion on those con- 
 ceived to be under 
 one's influence. 
 
 b. High Ges- 
 ture, marked h., 
 would refer to a 
 mountain top above 
 one's own position ; 
 would be used with 
 an exclamation of 
 wonder in thinking 
 of something above 
 one's comprehension 
 or of fear of some- 
 thing above his con- 
 trol. 
 
 c. Wave Ges- 
 ture, marked w., 
 so called because, 
 in preparing for it, 
 the hand necessarily 
 makes a wave-like, 
 horizontal move- 
 ment; would refer 
 to a real object be- 
 fore, beside or be- 
 hind (i. e. remote 
 from) the speaker 
 (marked f., s. or 
 bk.), or to an object 
 of consideration, as 
 a present, side or 
 past issue. The 
 broader the scope of 
 the object consid- 
 ered, the higher and 
 wider do the arms 
 and the hands move. 
 
 Opening Gestures. 
 1. O. or O. 
 
 Emotional, sympathetic form; 
 submits anything as an open 
 question to be finally decided by 
 others to whose sympathy or 
 judgment one appeals. It is the 
 ordinary persuasive, argument- 
 atii'e gesture; e. g. 
 
 O. They should be banished; 
 i. e. I think so; do not you — 
 will not you — agree with me V 
 
 h. O. 
 
 Opens the mind to influences 
 from above, or refers to any con- 
 ceived of as grandly beneficial, 
 liberalizing or inspiring; i. e. 
 to sunshine, freedom or God as 
 a father. Employed in the 
 benediction or a prayer, it solic- 
 its inspiring grace; expresses 
 confidence in God and a desire 
 to receive what he has to im- 
 part. 
 
 w. O. at breast level; l.w. 
 O. at hip level; f. O., bk. 
 O., s. O., ending like a simple 
 0. gesture. It appeals to those 
 surrounding one, especially in 
 questioning, inviting and ivel- 
 coming; with the hand moving 
 forward it expresses confidence, 
 refers to friends; moving in- 
 ward, or lield in front of breast 
 (with knuckles out) it expresses 
 self-devotion, surrender, mod- 
 esty, etc. 
 
 Descriptively , it refers to a 
 smiling landscape, or anything 
 not too accurately delineated, in 
 connection with which there is 
 a sense oi freedom or pleasure. 
 
 To shrug the shoulders and 
 open the palms, represents that 
 one has no accurately defined 
 view of that to which he refers. 
 
 0. FlNGERo 
 
 1. O. F. or 
 
 1. F. 
 
 Intellectu- 
 al, analytical 
 form; appeals 
 to others by 
 opening up 
 specific divi- 
 sions or as- 
 ;pects of a sub- 
 ject; e. g. 
 
 Is there one 
 man? 
 
 h. O. F. 
 
 points or calls 
 attention 
 (sometimes 
 with a wave 
 movement, 
 like beckon- 
 ing) to speci- 
 fic beneficial 
 aspirations or 
 influences 
 from above. 
 
 w. O. F. to 
 s., br., etc. 
 Waved from 
 the side or 
 front toward 
 some specific 
 person or 
 thing, and 
 drawn back 
 in the act of 
 beckoning. 
 
 Sometimes 
 used to point 
 to one's self. 
 A combina- 
 tion of the 
 side O. F. 
 with the fist, 
 stigmatizes 
 that to which 
 it points ; or it 
 maythreaten. 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 
 
 135 
 
 0. Fist. Closing Gestukes. 
 
 l.O.Ft.,0. 1. C. or C. 
 
 Ft or Ft 
 
 Emotional, sympathetic 
 
 Willful, form; closes out appeal or 
 
 or forcible, debate with a self-assert- 
 
 form ; ap- ive, dictative disregard of 
 
 peals with a opposition. Descriptively, 
 
 trill; e.g. it represents the manner of 
 
 Were they closing or limiting; e.g. 
 to do it, we C. They should be ban- 
 ought to use ished ; i.e. I think, irrespect- 
 force with ive of your opinion, that 
 them. they should be pushed off, 
 as I push my hand from me. 
 
 h. O. Ft. h. C. 
 
 threatens Closes the mind to inflii- 
 with force ences from above, to be 
 greater guarded against; or refers 
 than one's to any conceived of as, in 
 own. Mov- themselves, overwhelming 
 ing up or or irresistible; i. e. to 
 down, it de- storms, avalanches, fate, 
 scribes fore- laws of universe, God as a 
 ihlepushing force. Descriptively, it de- 
 up or tear- lineates outlines of objects 
 ing down, above one. Used in the 
 It is often benediction, it imparts con- 
 used thus. straining grace. 
 
 w. O.Ft. w. C. at breast level; 
 or shak- 1. w. C. at hip level; f. 
 en. Sliaken C, bk. C, etc. Ending 
 at some per- like a simple C. gesture, it 
 son or thing shuts off appeal, repressing 
 in the act or repelling those about, 
 of threaten- With the hand moving 
 ing. Some- outward, it expresses oppo- 
 timesisused sition, aversion, rejection, 
 descriptive- disdain, and refers to foes; 
 ly to repre- moving inward, or held in 
 sent what is front of breast, it wards or 
 clasped or protects self, shows self- 
 held, either consideration or self-asser- 
 in enmity or tion. Descriptively, it is the 
 friendship, most appropriate gesture 
 in pain or in by which to delineate out- 
 pleasure, in lines of any kind, but refers 
 resolute de- especially to anything im- 
 termination peded in itself, or appearing 
 orweakness. threatening or lowering. 
 
 C. Finger. C. Fist. 
 
 1. C. F. or 
 C. F. 
 
 Intellectu- 
 al, analytical 
 form of the 
 C. gesture; 
 closes out spe- 
 cific divisions 
 or aspects of a 
 subject; e. g. 
 Just here is 
 the limit. 
 
 h. C. F. or 
 h. F. 
 
 _ The usual 
 high F. ges- 
 ture by which 
 one points to 
 specific ob- 
 jects describ- 
 ed; or refers 
 to influences 
 that can con- 
 trol or may 
 injure one. 
 The warning 
 gesture. 
 
 C. F. or F. 
 
 at s. , on br. , 
 etc. The or- 
 dinary finger 
 gesture,hy us- 
 ing which, in 
 reference or 
 description, a 
 man points to 
 surrounding 
 objects or to 
 himself. Held 
 up and out 
 in front, and 
 shaken, ^j?a//- 
 fully rvdrns. 
 
 Pointing to 
 the breast re- 
 fers to obli- 
 gation, heart, 
 love, soul, etc. 
 
 1. C. Ft. 
 
 Willful, 
 forci ble ; 
 shuts (#ap- 
 peal with a 
 «<j?7Z,andus- 
 ually(with a 
 wave move- 
 ment) de- 
 scriptive. 
 
 I could 
 tear it to 
 tatters. 
 
 h. C. Ft. 
 
 refers to, or 
 describes, 
 something 
 above, /o*-c- 
 ibly held; 
 or, if an ob- 
 stacle, torn 
 down, rei^re- 
 sented by 
 the down- 
 ward move- 
 ment of the 
 hands. 
 
 w. C. Ft. 
 
 Mainly used 
 in referring 
 to, or de- 
 scribi n g, 
 anything 
 f r cib ly 
 held or re- 
 moved; e.g. 
 in telling of 
 the reins of 
 a supposed 
 span of 
 horses when 
 describing a 
 ride; or the 
 rending of 
 a curtain 
 which one 
 is supposed 
 to tear. 
 
136 
 
 ORATOR^S MANUAL. 
 
 Forms of the Opening Gestures. 
 
 End of Gesture. 
 
 177, To answer requirements of 
 beauty, the elbow, wrist and fingers, 
 at end of gesture, should together 
 form a compound curve, not a simple 
 curve nor a straight line. 
 
 To answer requirements of 
 strength, the muscles of elbow, 
 wrist and fingers, forming this com- 
 pound curve, should be tense, not 
 limp, and seem to have struck a strong 
 blo/v with backs of fingers. 
 
 liOw Opening*, 1. O. Elbow very 
 slightly bent, about lour inches to one 
 side, and also in front of hip; wrist 
 well down, with palm visible to 
 audience; thumb up and out from 
 palm, but not held stiffly; fingers 
 gers. In this way the backs of almost touching each other, th(; first 
 fingers, which in opening ges- pointing to the floor, the others very 
 
 slightly curled. 
 
 liOwO. Fing-er, 1. O. F. orl. F., 
 usually 1. f. F. Finger, elbow and 
 wrist bent as in 1. O. ; the first fin- 
 ger pointing straight to floor, with 
 its side to audience; the other fingers 
 curled as much as possible, with the 
 thumb bent in at all its joints and 
 folded ovpr tVie curled fingers. 
 
 Low O. Fist, 1. O. Ft. Elbow 
 bent as in 1. O. ; wrist bent toward 
 elbow, thumb and fingers clasped 
 and knuckles up. Do not make a 
 iveak fist. 
 
 Preparatory Movements. 
 
 17(5. Perpendicular, i. e. 
 
 straight up and <.;own. 
 
 Starting with hand in nor- 
 mal position when dropped at 
 side, do following things suc- 
 cessively: Bend fingers toward 
 palm; turn palm toward audi- 
 ence; bend ivrist toward elbow; 
 bend elbow toward shoulder; 
 lift arm from shoulder and 
 return it to where the elbow 
 will be in position for the end 
 of the gesture; bend elbow to 
 bring torearm into position./br 
 the stroke of the gesture; then 
 bend down tvrht, at same time 
 throwing out thumb and fin- 
 
 tures give the visible blow, 
 seem to strike from the great- 
 est possible distance. 
 
 Horizontal or Wave, i. e. 
 a circular or straight move- 
 ment across the body; often 
 used for grace or variety with 
 1. O. , h. O. , front O. , back 
 O., s. O., and always with 
 w. O. 
 
 Starting with hand in nor- 
 mal position when dropped at 
 side, with palm toward body, 
 bend fingers toward palm; 
 bend elboiv, bringittg forearm 
 and hand, with fingers curled, 
 across the bodi/ ; then, if mak- 
 ing a simple gesture, move 
 
 High Opening, h. O. Elbow 
 
 bent and wrist well down, as in 1. O. 
 the first finger pointing horizontally; 
 the backs of the others on a line level 
 
 to the position for the stroke of with it, striking the air below them; 
 
 the gesture, first, elboiv, then but the thumb held up so the palm 
 
 will be visible to audience. 
 
 High O. Finger, h. O. F. Elbow 
 more bent, the forefinger pointing 
 straight up, the others curled firmly 
 against the palm, the knuckles to 
 audience anri the thumb out. 
 
 High O. Fist, h. O. Ft. Same as 
 h. O. F., with the first finger and 
 thumb bent in at every joint. 
 
 forearm, and last, wrist, fhmnb 
 and fingers; but if making 
 a wave gesture, after bring- 
 ing hand as high and far one 
 side of shoulder as the stroke 
 of gesture is to carry it the other 
 side, first, while in front of 
 body, throw wrist, thumb and 
 fingers into position, then move 
 
 (Continued on page 138.) 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 
 
 137 
 
laa 
 
 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 
 
 the hand back across the hodi/ 
 to the side in a very free, gen- 
 erous arch, on a tine exactly 
 parallel to the floor, cutting 
 the air with the side of the first 
 finger, which points toward 
 the floor, and constantly chang- 
 ing the elboiv and wrist angles 
 till the gesture ends at the 
 side of body. 
 
 In preparing for O. gestures 
 with both hands, B. O., 
 the little fingers of the two 
 hands frequentlj^ touch, but it 
 is not customary to have them 
 cross each other. 
 
 Middle, m. O. , F. or Ft. Gesture 
 at breast level. 
 
 Wave, Side, Front, Back 
 Opening,w. O. , s. O. , f. O. , bk. O. 
 
 Same as high O., with the wrist 
 bent down more and first finger 
 pointing more directly to the floor. 
 In bk. O. the fingers sometimes point 
 outward, with all their fronts visible 
 to audience. 
 
 Side O. Finger, s. F. Same as 
 s. O., with first finger pointing, its 
 side uppermost, and thumb folded 
 over other fingers. When forcibly 
 made, the arm may be straight at 
 elbow. 
 
 Side O. Fist, s. O. Ft. Elbow 
 bent, wrist, palm and knuckles up. 
 
 FOTIMS OF THE CLOSING GESTURES. 
 
 Preparatory Movements. 
 
 178. Perpendicular, i. e. 
 
 straight up and down. 
 
 Starting with hand in nor- 
 mal position when dropped at 
 side, do following things suc- 
 cessively : Turn knuckles, with 
 fingers curled on palm, toivard 
 audience; lift straight arm 
 toward audience till at angle 
 of forty-five degrees from body ; 
 then hend elbow up and wrist 
 doiim, hiding palm from audi- 
 ence, carrying forearm up high 
 enough to begin to descend for 
 the end of gesture; then, as it 
 descends, throiv wrist up and 
 fingers and thumb into position 
 for the end of gesture. Last of 
 all, in 1. C. or s. C, straighten 
 the arm, at the same time 
 turning the wrist about so that 
 the fngers shall point away 
 from the body ; in h. C. , throiv 
 wrist, fingers and thumb into 
 position nnth afortvard move- 
 ment of the forearm, but leave 
 thp elbo/r still slightly bent. 
 
 Horizontal or Wave, i. e. 
 
 End of Gesture. 
 
 179. To be graceful, the elbow, 
 wrist, thumb and fingers, at end of 
 gesture, should form a compound 
 curve, not a simple curve nor straight 
 line. So in 1. C. and w. C. the elbow 
 is straightened . 
 
 To seem strong, the muscles form- 
 ing this compound curve should be 
 tense, not limp, and appear to hare 
 struck a vigorous blow; in 1. C. and 
 ■w. C. partly with the outside edge of 
 little finger, and partly with tips of 
 all the fingers; in h. C. or h. F. with 
 either the fronts or backs of the fin- 
 gers. 
 
 Low Closing, 1. C. or C. Arm 
 straight, elbow unbent, wrist about 
 eight inches to one side of the body, 
 bent up; fingers parallel to floor and 
 pointing outward, straight and touch- 
 ingeach other; thumb down and visi- 
 ble to andipnce. 
 
 Low C. Finger, 1. C. F. Usually 
 in Iront, knuckles to audience, elbow 
 and wrist bent, first finger pointing 
 straight to floor, others curled in and 
 thumb ont from palm. 
 
 Low C. Fist, 1. C. Ft. Same as 
 
 (Continued on page 140.) 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTTJEES. 
 
 139 
 
140 
 
 ORATOR S MANUAL. 
 
 a circular or straight move- 
 ment across the body; ahnost 
 always used t'o some extent 
 with 1. C, f. C, bk. C, 
 s. C, and always with w. C. 
 
 Starting with the hand in 
 normal position when dropped 
 at side, with palm toward body 
 and fingers curled, keeping 
 wrist straight, bend elbow and 
 bring hand up across the body 
 {to opposite hip if preparing 
 for a slight 1. C. or 1. w. C, to 
 opposite breast for a strong 
 1. C, s. C. or w. C); 
 then bending up wrist and 
 straightening fingers (point 
 them parallel to floor if at hip; 
 parallel to vest collar if at 
 breast, i. e. in position of C. 
 on br.) and dropping thumb so 
 it can be seen by audience; 
 move the hand back across the 
 body {diagonallydowmvard for 
 a 1. C. ; straight, i. e. parallel 
 to floor, for a w. C), cutting 
 the air with the edge of the 
 little finger, straightening the 
 arm at elbow as soon as possi- 
 ble ; and, last of all, with a sud- 
 den turn of the wrist, throwing 
 the hand into position, with 
 the fingers pointing away 
 from body (parallel to floor in 
 1. C. and prone C, slightly 
 or decidedly upward in w. C. 
 or s. C). 
 
 In preparing for C. gestures 
 with both, hands, B. C, 
 whether at the waist or breast, 
 the two hands frequently cross 
 each other. 
 
 1. C. , with fingers and thumb all 
 
 folded in as much as possible. 
 
 Hig-h Closing, h. C. Elbow for- 
 ward from body, on a level with 
 shoulder, though to one side of it, and 
 bent; wrist forward from elbow, and, 
 as seen by audience, just above it; 
 full hand to audience, with fingers 
 pointing straight up and thumb out 
 to one side of palm. 
 
 High C. Finger, h. C. F.orh. F. 
 Same as h. C, with all fingers but 
 the first prc^ssed firmly agniiist palm. 
 
 High C. Fist, h. C. Ft. Same 
 as h. C, witii tingers and thumb all 
 folded in as much as possible. 
 
 Middle, m. C. Gesture at breast 
 level. 
 
 Wave Closing, w. C. Including 
 breast C, front C, side C, 
 m. C, bk. C. 
 
 Breast Closing, br. C. Elbow 
 bent, forearm parallel to floor; thumb 
 pointing away from elbow and visi- 
 ble to audience: fingers straight, to- 
 gether and parallel to vest collar, and 
 edge of little finger to audience. 
 
 Front, f. C. The same, with elbow 
 slightly bent, and palm and all fingers 
 and thumb visible to audience. 
 
 Side, s. C, Similar, but with arm 
 straight and only side of first finger 
 and thumb visible to audience, palm 
 outward. 
 
 Breast, br. C. F. Same as br. C. , 
 with all fingers but first folded on 
 palm. 
 
 Middle, m. or s. C. F. Same as 
 br. C. F., with wrist unbent and F. 
 pointing outward. 
 
 Wave, w. C. Ft. Same as w. C. , 
 with fingers and thumb all folded 
 together. 
 
 The student who will learn to apply the above directions will 
 be able to make, in the best way, all the gestures that he will be apt 
 to need in ordinary Oratory. Besides this, as soon as he has mas- 
 tered the system lie will find that it admits of almost any amount of 
 variety, — in fact, that all gestures, even the most dramatic, are 
 merely modifications of these, made more angular or circular (§§ 184, 
 186) to suit the sentiment. 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 
 
 141 
 
 11 
 
 12 
 
 
142 oeator's man"ual. 
 
 180. Preparation for the Gesture. It is often 
 more important to move the arms rightly when preparing 
 for a gesture, and in passing from one gesture to another^ 
 than to have the arm and hand in a right position when the 
 gesture closes. 
 
 181. Reasons. In gestures referring to surrounding objects or 
 describing them, there is more meaning in the preparatory move- 
 ments than in the close. Hence the necessity of having these move- 
 ments slow, in order that their significance may be clearly perceived. 
 
 a. The eyes of the audience often dwell longer on the move- 
 ments of preparation than on the close. Hence the necessity, 
 especially in cases where, as instanced under the last head, these 
 movements must be slow, of having the arms move freely through 
 wide and large arches. Otherwise there will be little gracefulness in 
 their appearance. 
 
 b. The after-effects of a gesture are powerful in the degree in 
 which the end of the stroke is given with rapidity and from a dis- 
 tance. The first of these effects cannot be produced except by way 
 of contrtw"^ with previous slow movements, nor the second except at 
 the end of movements made through long arches. Hence both of 
 these conditions, previously mentioned, are demanded by the require- 
 ments of strength. 
 
 182. Significant, graceful and strong effects in the 
 
 movements preparatory for gestures result in the degree in 
 which these are made slowly and describe long arches. 
 
 In preparing for a gesture, therefore, one should begin some 
 seconds before the time for the stroke, fit the movement of the arm 
 to the phrase that follows, and not exhaust this movement before 
 reaching the word at which the gesture closes. Even in a merely 
 emphatic gesture in which there is no attempt at description, and no 
 matter how rapidlg the words mag he flowing, one should raise his 
 arm slowly, as if taking aim like a skillful boxer, and thus give the 
 stroke when the time comes in such a way as to make it effective. A 
 gesture given in this manner is more apt than any other to have 
 meaning and grace, and, above all, to convey that impression of 
 self-control which is so important in the manner of an orator. A 
 man may appear, and if eloquent will appear, to be full of emotion; 
 but this will not influence others much unless it appears to be a 
 rational, regulated emotion, held well in hand and directed wisely. 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 143 
 
 As a rule, no man can control an audience ivho does not show that he 
 can control himself. 
 
 183. Size of Gesture Movements. These should 
 differ accordincr to the different decrees and kinds of em- 
 phasis that they are intended to represent. 
 
 a. It is necessary to notice only two general tendencies of 
 thought to which this principle is applicable. 
 
 184. Because in the degree in which thought is conceived of as 
 about or above one, the hands move about or above the body — 
 
 a. The grander and loftier, the more comprehensive 
 and elevating, the nature of the thought to be emphasized, 
 the ivider and higher will be the sweep of the arms in pre- 
 paring for a gesture, and this fact will also determine their 
 position at its close ; e. g. 
 
 In the degree in which an orator becomes interested in a sub- 
 ject or audience, considering it or them as of greater scope or size, 
 importance or dignity, the Opening Gesture, which at first is made 
 only with a straight upward and downward movement of prepara- 
 tion, and ends low down at the side, is made with a circular move- 
 ment of preparation across the waist, and ends higher up and farther 
 out from the body. 
 
 185. We must be careful not to emphasize small ideas with 
 grand gestures. If we do, the appearance of incongruity between 
 the thing and the thing signified may produce laughter; or, to state 
 the principle differently, 
 
 a. Exaggerated Preparatory Movements are 
 
 used to give a ludicrous or sarcastic effect to the emphasis of 
 a gesture. {See § 209:4.) 
 
 186. Because, in the degree in which an interest in outward ob- 
 jects, such as causes one to dwell upon them descriptively, is slight, 
 the roundabout movements, or the wave in connection with the up- 
 ward and downward movements, is slight — 
 
 a. The sharper, the more passionate, the nature 
 of the thought to be emphasized, the more straight and 
 angular will be the movement of the arms in preparing for 
 a gesture, and their position at its close ; e. g. 
 
144 orator's manual. 
 
 The closing gesture made with a circular movement, and ending 
 with the wrist only slightly bent upward, represses; e. g. 
 
 No, no, darling; don't do that. 
 
 But jJushed straight, with the wrist heiit sharply upward, as is 
 necessary in order to complete the idea of pushing, it repels; e, g. 
 
 Away, base fiend ! 
 
 187. The Return of the Gesture. The hand 
 should be kept in position a moment after the stroke of the 
 gesture, then ordinarily allowed to fall easily and naturally 
 to the side; hut the stronger, the mo7'e sustained a.nd persist- 
 ent, the nature of the thought to be emphasized, the more 
 tendency there will be to make a combination or series of 
 gestures. 
 
 a. Single gestures can represent emotion that is spasmodic only. 
 It is by repeated and accumulated emphasis that the most power- 
 ful effects are produced, both in elocution and gesticulation. 
 
 188. The following combined gestures need to be mentioned: 
 a. The Opening Shake Gesture. In this, after the stroke, 
 
 the elbow is moved rapidly backward and forward, and the wrist, 
 at the same time, is bent and unbent, describing with the hand an 
 arc smaller and smaller, till the shake closes with the arm and hand 
 in the same position as that in which it began. It is used where it 
 seems necessary to emphasize vigorously a whole phrase, rather than 
 a single word; e. g. 
 
 Who distinctly and audaciously tells the Irish people that they 
 are not entitled to the same privileges as Englishmen? 
 
 Avoid the faults of moving the elbow and not the wrist, and 
 moving the ivrist and not the elbow. 
 
 189. After the stroke of the opening gesture, the hand, instead 
 of remaining in position, sometimes has a tendency to rebound. 
 When the emphasis is strong, it is well to indulge this tendency, and 
 give form to it in the 
 
 Opening Snatch Gesture. In this the hand, immediately 
 after the stroke, is snatched away, and across the body, to form 
 a fist resting on the opposite waist or chest; or else, if a gesture of 
 inspiration, snatched straight up, to form an opening high finger 
 gesture. 
 
 Avoid the fault of not making an unmistakable opening gesture 
 before snatching up the hand. 
 
OBJECTIVE GESTURES. 145 
 
 190. Closing Shake Gesture. In this the hand, after the 
 stroke, continues to move up and down from the wrist, either with 
 increasing or lessening rapidity. Like the Opening Shake, it is used 
 where it seems necessary to emphasize vigorously a whole phrase, 
 rather than a single word. 
 
 191. Closing" Shuffle Gre:ture, in which the hand, after the 
 stroke, continues to move from side to side at the wrist. It has a 
 meaning similar to that of the Shake Gesture; but, because it is 
 much more distinctly visible to an audience, it is much more fre- 
 quently used. 
 
 In the following passage, a slow shuffle, with the downward 
 gesture, would be appropriate : 
 
 c _ c c c 
 
 . . . Not of subjection and slavery; not of agony and distress; 
 but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy. 
 
 In the following, a rapid, high shuffle, with the upward gesture: 
 
 c c 
 
 They offer us protection; yes, such protection as vultures give 
 
 c c c 
 
 to lambs, — covering and devouring them. 
 
 a. Opening Shuffle and Closing Snatch Gestures are also used. 
 
 In general, the principle under consideration leads to the fol- 
 lowing: 
 
 192. ^faJne a Series of Gestures, if it be necessary to gest- 
 ure at all. Do not stop with a single one. 
 
 Hence the necessity of learning how to make a series of gestures 
 that shall all be appropriate, and yet have variety; and how to pass 
 from one to another with movements of preparation that shall be at 
 once significant, graceful and strong. The following exercises (or 
 tetter, perhaps — because it will save the student extra work — the 
 order of the gestures, in § 201) will suggest the manner of passing 
 from one gesture to another. The stroke of the gesture in each case 
 precedes the ( . . ). After the stroke has been made, hold the hand 
 still for a moment, then pass to the next gesture. 
 
 1. Practice the first of the following with the Right, then with 
 the Left, then with Both hands : 
 
 FIRST. 
 
 Low . . wave low to front low 0, then to low side 
 . , wave to breast 0, then to breast level or middle side 
 . . to high . . to low 0, and snatch to C Ft on opnosite 
 7 
 
146 orator's manual. 
 
 waist . . wave to low . . to front low . . to low . . 
 to low side . . turn to C, at the same time bringing the 
 hand forward, with arm straight, and wave to back C . . 
 shuffle C . . high C . . wave high C to front and side . . 
 to high C and shuffle . . drop till below the level of the 
 face, then wave to breast C . . wave to side front, and lift 
 to high C . . drop to C front middle and prone . . wave to 
 breast C . . wave downward to low C . . lift to breast 
 . . wave to low back C Ft . . to low back C. 
 
 SECOND. 
 
 Front F pointing down . . repeat the same gesture 
 . . wave to low . . to side . . to C F pointing up on 
 the breast . . to C F pointing at side . . to C F pointing 
 up on the breast . . change to C and wave to front C . . to 
 side C . . lift to high C . . change to h C F . . wave to side 
 C F . . wave to low front F pointing down . . wave to 
 low . . stroke 1 and snatch to high F (knuckles out) . . 
 change to high . . low . . wave low . . stroke low 
 and snatch to C Ft on opposite waist . . wave to Ft low . . 
 Ft high . . low . . stroke low C and snatch to C Ft on 
 opposite waist . . change to C and wave to low side C . . 
 lift C at side to high C . . change to high C F, and shuffle 
 or shake it . . change to C, and, keeping wrist bent up and 
 arm straight, drop high C at side slowly to low side C. 
 
 In the selections (§§ 211-219) will be found a large number of 
 declamations, in which appropriate (not the only admissible) gestures 
 are marked. By studying them, the student will learn how these 
 gestures and their preparatory movements may be fitted to the sense. 
 
 THE COUNTENANCE. 
 
 193, In ordinary Oratory the expression of this should not 
 change greatly, but in connection with the dramatic gestures men- 
 tioned below it may change to any extent- 
 
THE countexa:n^ce. 147 
 
 It does not fall within the province of this work to treat this 
 subject exhaustively. It is sufficient merely to notice that, in gen- 
 eral, the same principles apply here as to the gestures with the hands 
 and arms; e. g. 
 
 An upward movement of the eyes or muscles of the face (as 
 in the elevated forehead and browb) refers to what is conceived of 
 as above one, in the sense explained in § 170 ; a doivnivard move- 
 ment of the same (as in the frown or the protn(di)7g chin) refers 
 to what is conceived of as under or helow one; and a movement 
 to the side, or sides (as in the smile and cry), to what is beside one or 
 relative. To be more specific : 
 
 194. The eye represents that tvhich one has in view; i. e. the 
 tendencij or direction of thought, which, as has been said, may be 
 upward, as in adoration; doivnward, as in sullenness; or sideward, 
 as in attention. In Oratory, the audience is the chief object of 
 consideration, and likes to be so treated; therefore, in public ad- 
 dress, — especially before juries, — one should never forget that the 
 eye can do more than anything else, perhaps, to hold the attention 
 of those upon whom it gazes. It should not often be turned away 
 from them, — not to i\iQ floor, e. g., in the how, nor to the hand in the 
 gesture. In the degree, however, in which Oratory becomes acting, 
 one's glance may be directed toward any object of thought per- 
 ceived, or conceived of, as ahove, about or under one. 
 
 Besides this, it may be added that the eyes burn in anger, weep 
 in sorrow, and have a vacant look in deep thought, introspection, in- 
 difference to outward sights, etc. (For additional suggestions, see 
 Chart of Dramatic Gestures. § 200.) 
 
 195. The forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, and muscles of the 
 cheeks surroundmg the eye, indicate the character, kind or quality 
 of the impressions that the mind has with reference to the objects 
 toward which the eye is directed. They act in connection with the 
 eye somewhat as the fingers in different gestures do in connection 
 with the movements of the hands and arms. When all the mus- 
 cles surrounding the eye seem relaxed, and the eyelids droop, they 
 indicate, — as in the case of the hands falling at the sides, — indiffer- 
 ence or languor. When they all seem to be drawn away from the 
 eye, as if aiding to open it, they emphasize, like the opening gest- 
 ure, a desire to receive or impart; they exaggerate the act of atten- 
 tion, and indicate, in various degrees, interest, surprise, admiration, 
 hope, joy. When, in connection with such movements, the muscles 
 of the forehead seem to be influenced only by an upward movement 
 they refer to something conceived of as above one. When, while 
 the forehead in general is elevated, the brows are slightly drawn 
 down and knit together, they indicate, like the downward gesture 
 with the opening fist, force and authority, with the conception of 
 an ability to master exercised upon that to which attention is directed. 
 When, in connection with the expanding of the muscles about the 
 eye and the upward tendency of the forehead, the latter is, neverthe- 
 less, folded together vertically, as if to close out, rather than receive, 
 the influences of that to which attention is directed, the effect 
 is like that of the upward closing gesture, indicating a desire to 
 
148 orator's manual. 
 
 shut out or repress what is unpleasant or causes anxiety, grief or de- 
 spondency. When, in addition to the folding of the forehead, the 
 eyebrows are drawn down and knit together, they indicate, like the 
 downward gesture with the closing, repellant hand [see §§ 175, 186) 
 or the closing fist, a desire to oppose the hostile influence, as well as 
 the feeling, also, that one has the ability to do so; i. e. indignation 
 or anger. 
 
 196. The movement of the muscles of the nose, when 
 " drawn up," as is said, seems to derive its significance chiefly 
 from its relations to the eye, that, in connection with it, is always 
 directed toward the object concerning which is conceived a simple 
 feeling of i^ejndsion or a decided feeling of disgust and contempt. 
 It may be said, therefore, to correspond to the relative (i. e. to the 
 front or side closing) gesture. 
 
 a. As for the nostrils, it will be noticed that they open, as do 
 the muscles about the eye, to express interest, surprise, admiration, 
 hope, joy, — very forcibly so to express pride, exaltation, or a sense 
 of mastery; and that they close to express anxiety, grief, despond- 
 ency; and at times rigidly so to express indignation and anger. 
 
 197. The lips and mouth., in indifference, iveakness and irreso- 
 lution, are relaxed, a state corresponding to that of the hands when 
 dropped at the side. Corresponding to various positions of the 
 opening and closing gestures, we find that in eager listening the 
 mouth is almost always open, and in resolute determination, closed. 
 •In surprise, as though in view of something above one, the lips are 
 
 slightly opened, — the upper and under teeth are apart, — the middle 
 of the upper lip is lifted a little, but without any rigidity of the 
 muscles; while, to give eff'ect to this position, the lower lip, with 
 the jaw and chin, are drawn backward and inward (upward open- 
 ing gesture). Notice this position, as intensified in the exclamation 
 "Whew!" In energy wad decision, combined with a feeling of 
 mastery, the upper and under teeth are partly or wholly brought 
 together, the upper lip is pressed firmly down upon the under, 
 which, with the under jaw, is thrust forward (the downward fist 
 gesture). In laughter, which is always relative, the lips are lifted 
 at the side corners, and the mouth opened horizontally (opening 
 side). On the other hand, m apprehension, fear, grief, resulting, of 
 course, when one is under the influence of something that he can- 
 not master, the middle of the lips are lifted, while, giving eff'ect to 
 this, the sides are drawn down rigidly (as though repressing or re- 
 peUing, as in the upward closing gesture), and the lower lip and 
 chin held back and in. In agony, the lips are compressed, indicat- 
 ing more eff'ort of the will in resistance ; and in anger and malice, 
 the upper lip is pressed upon the lower, which, with the chin, is 
 thrust forward (downward closing or fist closing gesture). In disgust 
 and contemp)t, the chin is also thrust forward, with the lips curled 
 downward in the former (repressing closing, § 186) and curled up- 
 ward in the latter (repellant closing, § 186). In crying, which, like 
 laughter, is relative, the mouth is opened horizontally, with the lips 
 drawn rigidly to either side (side closing wave). In pouting^ they 
 are thrust up and out in front (front closing). 
 
SUBJECTIVE GESTURES. 149 
 
 i98. In the countenance, as elsewhere, comic effects are pro- 
 duced by a combination of extravagance and incongruity; the lat- 
 ter, e. g., from having one portion of the face represent one set of 
 emotions and another portion another set, or from having the 
 whole countenance represent emotions diametrically the opposite of 
 those that the circumstances warrant. 
 
 SUBJECTIVE GESTURES. ^ 
 
 199. Subjective Gestures, as explained (§ 163), differ 
 from Objective gestures, to which, mainly, the movements in 
 ordinary Oratory are confined, in that, instead of being in- 
 tended to represent the relation of a subject to the hearers, 
 they represent its relation to the speaker. For instance, a 
 man lifts his hands above his head, throwing them out in 
 the direction of the' audience, because he conceives that the 
 subject of which he is speaking is a grand one, and should 
 appeal to others as a grand one. He lifts himself — his 
 head, trunk, etc. — either in connection with his hands or 
 not, because he feels the effect of its grandeur on himself, 
 or feels himself equal to the demand that there is for dis- 
 cussing it. 
 
 In making these gestures, all the parts of the body are 
 usually more or less enlisted, and the direction of the move- 
 ments (of the hands, e. g.) is usually from the audience 
 toward the speaker. 
 
 200. As the main object in all speaking, even when en- 
 deavoring to show the relation of a subject to the speaker, 
 is to impress others, these Subjective gestures are almost 
 always combined, necessarily, with Objective one?. 
 
 The followingr chart will indicate sufficiently for the purpose of 
 this book the different attitudes and movements appropriate tor the 
 ideas that one is most freqnently called upon to represent through 
 the use of these gestures. The principles un<ifrlving the chart, aside 
 from those already explained, are that the head represents mental; 
 the breast, moral or emotional; the lone)- trunk, physical; and the 
 legs, like the arms (§§ 183, 186), determinative or volitive conceptions. 
 
150 
 
 ORATOR S MANUAL. 
 
 ,2 ^ 
 
 
 
 •«'« ■§ 
 
 
 
 
 to a 
 
 
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 gg gs 
 
 '«'« '53 5-! 
 
 TO » 
 
 oa f3 c3 
 OJ <u rt 
 
 cog 
 
 •"2 d'g 
 
 ij t« C5 !? sj jg eS 
 .T3 C'S t- S K te 
 r-i C ^ o "D 1J > 
 
 
 S CD t3 '"^ (U 
 t-i 2J <U fl CL 
 fe Org g £* 
 
 t-"oo,^ 
 
 0) 0) 
 
 
 -.-^.s 
 
 
 <D .^ ..S -S -S •. 
 
 
 
 J''? 
 
 «j C c] 
 
 
 O 
 
 o -g -a) 
 
 1= 
 O 
 
 fcjc : o) 
 
 O ^ ^ "^ '^ '^ ^ 
 O C oQ '^'53'^'^ 
 
 gg 
 
 
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 PI O e3 
 
 
 PI bO 
 Mm 
 
 
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 !>.!>.-C! 
 
 ii 
 
 03 (ri 0,^5 
 
 
 
 |ggggg 
 
 
 
 TJ g >'T^ O S 
 
 llalll 
 
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 gg 
 
 o 
 
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 © 
 
 
 
 
CHAKT OF DEAMATIC GESTURES. 
 
 151 
 
 
 ^•=3& 
 
 So 
 
 
 
 C CO cr i. cS 
 
 
 tfO 
 
 t' .So -• 
 
 to 
 
 a 
 
 .So 
 
 |5 
 
 
 c = ?5 
 
 I 
 
 ill. 
 III 
 
 _, ^^ o c 
 
 c ■« -rS 1= 
 
 
 Coo 
 
 o g.^i^.2 o o 
 
 = a 
 
 i I lipi 
 
 S ^ ^ :3 *■ bc -"*- 2i i 3 
 c£^fcc??St.c-^i=:sc^S 
 
 J ffl p^ Jg^^aa 
 
 II 
 
 i &/3'o O o'3 
 
 
 roio 
 
 ? u 3 cu s :3 
 ^ 5 '-C 5 5s '- 
 
 I 
 
 
 s o 
 
 11 
 
 ? s 
 
 1.1 
 
 1° 
 
 fl o 
 
 eg 
 
 "3.3 
 
 <i:m P 
 
 fcJOO 
 
 
 0=2 -c o 
 
 ^ fl G 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 bo's o TS o - 
 
 IX! 
 
 -5^ 
 
 o o 
 
 CO 
 
 
 P S g 
 fS "s -^ •§ "§ 
 
 OJ n i^ o 
 
 o f» o S « 
 
 •2 d 
 
 ©2 ^ 
 
 CO >> 
 
 : fl © 
 ■ o o 
 
 S©^25M 
 
 
SELECTIOITS FOE DECLAMATION". 
 
 201. Before attempting" to declaim, students should understand 
 the following- principles, and be able to apply them. 
 
 Elementary Principles of Time, Pitch and Force. 
 In the degree in which ideas expressed are serious, grave, 
 dignified and self-determined, time is slow, pitch, low, 
 and force full (§§ 140-145). In the degree in. which ideas 
 are light, gay, lively and uncontrolled, time is fast, pitch. 
 high, and force slight. 
 
 In ordinary Oratory, time is much slower, pitch about 
 the same, and force much greater, than in conversation 
 (§ 146). 
 
 Time is slower in all passages (§ 40), and the voice 
 pauses in uttering all words (§ 35), that introduce into the 
 general sense special importance, information or peculiarity. 
 
 Time is faster in all passages, and the voice slights 
 all words, expressing what is insignificant, known, acknowl- 
 edged or repetitious in statement or sequence. 
 
 i^^ Marks of punctuation do not always accompany not 
 indicate places for elocutionary pauses (§ 35). 
 
 Pitch. Falling Inflections (for decisive or positive 
 ideas) are used with those words before pauses which posi- 
 tively affirm a fact, principle or belief, or emphatically 
 point out an object or idea (in the speaker's opinion) impor- 
 tant in itself, irrespective of further consideration. The 
 Falling Inflection closes the sense (directing attention 
 toward what has been said), as the period closes the sentence 
 (§§ 43, 50, etc.). 
 
 152 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 153 
 
 Rising* Inflections (for indecisive, negative, doubtful 
 ideas) are used with words that express ideas in open con- 
 trast with positive ideas (and, in this sense, negative), or 
 ideas whose importance, interest or certainty depends on 
 something expressed in another part of the sentence or pas- 
 sage; hence, any ideas repeated, trite, acknowledged or 
 insignificant, and most negative, conditional and interroga- 
 tive clauses. But "not" and "if" are sometimes used to 
 express positive ideas or facts, e. g. Thou shalt not steal — 
 If ye know these things (as you do), etc. And a c[ues- 
 tion may contain a statement ec[ually positive, e. g. Isn't 
 she beautiful? (§§ 43, 49-51). 
 
 Double or Circuinflex Inflections (moving in two 
 directions) emphasize ideas of double reference or meaning; 
 hence all important words used in comparison or contrast 
 with something else (i. e. in illustration or antithesis), or 
 in doubtful, insincere, sarcastic, ironical expressions. The 
 circumflex ends, according as the main sense demands, down- 
 ward A or upward V (§§ 69-74). 
 
 When several words together all express the same general 
 idea, only the last word receives the appropriate falling or 
 rising inflection; e.g. Subjection and slavery (§§ 65, 66). 
 Falling Inflections start higher than the general pitch, 
 and rising inflections lower, except at the end of a para- 
 graph, or for variety (§§ 75-77). 
 
 Force. As a rule, more force is always used with 
 words emphasized by pauses and inflections, and upon the 
 last word of each sentence (§ 98). 
 
 202. Meaning of the Marks of Emphasis (§§ 29, 30): 
 
 Pauses: short/ long// /// Time: fast, mod. [ersite], slow. 
 
 Quantity is sufficiently indicated usually by the pauses. 
 
 Inflections: upward ' downward "■ upward circumflex ~ >-- 
 downward circumflex " , downward started high '^ , 
 
154 orator's manual. 
 
 Pitch.: very high {hh), high {h), medium (m), low {I), very low 
 
 Stress: initial >, terminal <, median <>, compound X, 
 thorough XX > tremulous ^^^. 
 
 Force (in italics) or very loud [ff), loud (/), soft (p), very soft 
 
 (rp)- 
 
 Quality: pure P, orotund 0, aspirate A, guttural 6r, pectoral 
 Pec. 
 
 Gestures (§§ 176-179), always marked on a line above the 
 v/ords on which they are used. 
 
 
 Movement 
 
 preceding the 
 
 stroke of the gesture: 
 
 *w 
 
 leave, parallel to floor. 
 
 *0 opening. 
 
 tr 
 
 from the side across (trans.) 
 
 C closing. 
 
 
 body. 
 
 
 C prone, when fingers form 
 
 br 
 
 movement to the breast. 
 
 a straight line with arm. 
 
 s 
 
 " 
 
 ** side. 
 
 F finger. 
 
 f 
 
 " 
 
 •' front. 
 
 Ft fist. 
 
 bk 
 
 <( 
 
 " hack. 
 
 B both hands. 
 
 h 
 
 " 
 
 high above head. 
 
 R right hand. 
 
 m 
 
 " 
 
 middle, i. e. at 
 
 L left hand. 
 
 
 
 level of breast. 
 
 Where neither R nor L is used, 
 
 1 
 
 (( 
 
 low, below waist. 
 
 gesture with either hand. 
 
 For snatch, shuffle, shake, see §§ 188-191. 
 Unless otherwise marked, waves are on a level with the breast, 
 and all other gestures are low. 
 
 203. Directions. Students should first learn the Preliminary- 
 Exercise, § 209. 
 
 a. Next, until they know how to apply for themselves the prin- 
 ciples underlying the marks in this exercise, they should select for 
 declamation some (and read over all) of the marked Declama- 
 tions in §§ 211-226. 
 
 J5$g°^ For beginners, and those who do not speak with sufficient 
 spirit, the first among these selections are the best. 
 
 204. After this, with special reference to emphasis, students 
 should read by themselves, or, better, before an instructor, one or 
 more of the unmarked declamations that in this work imme- 
 diately follow the marked ones that they have read or recited, 
 
 205. As for the marks, let students remember that 
 these indicate one, not the only appropriate way of deliver- 
 ing any given passage; because the same phraseology may 
 
 * For the manner of forming these gestures, see pp. 136-140; for their mean- 
 ing, p. 134. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^. 155 
 
 be made to convey or make prominent different ideas, ac- 
 cording to the conception or wisii of the speaker. (§§ 32, 
 53, 63, etc.) Let students find out why the particular em- 
 phasis or gesture that is marked is appropriate, and not 
 forget that unless they can gain such control of themselves 
 as to deliver at will these passages as the author of this 
 book conceives of their meaning, they cannot at will deliver 
 them as they themselves conceive of their meaning. 
 
 206. As a rule, in these selections, 
 
 a. Pauses are not marked except in places where otherwise 
 they might be overlooked. 
 
 b. Upward inflections it has not been thought necessary, in 
 all cases, to mark. 
 
 c. Downward inflections are all marked; but the majority of 
 these are to be given with merely a downward bend of the voice, 
 starting higher than the general pitch. {See §§ 75-77.) 
 
 207. A greater number of gestures are marked than, in an 
 ordinary oration, it would be appropriate to make. The object of 
 marking so many of them is to afford the pupil as much practice of 
 gesticulation as possible in a given space, and also an opportunity 
 of selecting from a large number of gestures those that he can use 
 most readily in public. 
 
 208. Advanced pupils, by consulting the references given in pre- 
 vious sections of this work, and the captions and marks used in 
 connection with the following selections, will find among the latter 
 illustrations of all the different elements of emphasis considered in 
 this book. 
 
 Peeliminary Exercise in Declamation. 
 
 209. In order to understand pauses, inflections, force and gestures, let the 
 student explain the marks in the following. 
 
 In order to overcome bad habits of delivery and to begin to cultivate good 
 ones, let him practice it, till he can declaim it perfectly as marked. 
 
 1 RO* 1 RO 
 
 1. The war | must go on. We must figbt it | through. 
 
 bkR c 
 
 And, if the war | must go 6n, | why put off Idnger | 
 
 m RO 1 
 
 the declaration | of independence ? That measure | will 
 
 R O snatch to C Ft on op. waist 1 f R O 1 s R O 
 
 strengthen us : it will give us character || abroad. If we 
 
 *For the manner of forming these gestures, sec pp. 136-140; for their meafl- 
 ing, p. 134. 
 
156 okator's ma:n^ual. 
 
 w to 1 s L C 
 
 fail, I it can be no worse \ for us. But we shall riot fail 
 
 1 L O 1 s L 
 
 The cause I will raise up | armies; the cause | will create | 
 
 ^o ^ ^ 1 RO 
 
 navies. The people, \ the people, \ if we are true to them, | 
 
 RCFuponbr wmRCtosfRC hRC 
 
 will carry its, \ and will carry themselves, \ gloriously | 
 
 push R C f and down 
 
 thrdugh \ this strtiggle. Sir, | the declaration | will inspire | 
 
 the people | with increased I courage. Instead of a long] 
 
 w tr to R C F on br pointing np 
 
 and bloody \ ivdr \ for restoration | of privileges, \ for re- 
 
 front 1 RO w to 1 RO 
 
 dress \ of grievances, \ for chartered \ immunities, \ held | 
 
 h RO 
 
 xinder a British \ king,\\ set before them | the glorious] 
 
 h ROF turn to h RC and push 
 
 object I of entire \ independence, | and it will breathe into them 
 
 to f and lower R C 
 
 anew \ the breath | of life. 
 
 slowly lift R C to shoulder level R C to 
 
 Through the thick \ gloom \ of the present \\ I see the 
 
 h KG to hROF RCF drop 
 
 brightness \ of the fUture, | as the sUn \ in heaven. We 
 
 m BO w 1 tr B C 
 
 shall make this a glorious, \ an iinmortal \ day. When we\ 
 
 to 1 s B C turn to 1 B O wide m B O 1 
 
 are in our graves \ our children \ will hdnor it. They will 
 
 ^ BO 
 
 celebrate it | with thanksgiving, \ with festivitij, \ with hdii- 
 
 fires I and illumitidtions. On its annual | return | they will 
 
 w to 1 bk B c 
 shed I tears — | cdpious, \ gushing tears, — not of subjection \ 
 
 shuffle B C shuffle B C shuffle B C high 
 
 and slavery, — | not of agony \ and distress, — | but of 
 
 B O mid BO low BO 
 
 exultdtion, \ of gratitude \ and of joy. 
 
 w 1 tr RO to RO hold 
 
 2. Tell me, | man of military | science, \ in how many 
 turn and w to 1 bk R C 
 
 in6nths | were the Pilgrims | all | swept dff I by the thirty [ 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 157 
 
 savage | tribes | enumerated | within the early | limits | 
 
 wltrLOtoLO 1 LO 
 
 of New England? Tell me, | politician, \ how Idng \ did 
 
 this I shadow | of a c61ony, | on which your conventions | 
 
 w to 1 bk LC 
 
 and treaties | had not smiled, | languish \ on the distant | 
 
 w 1 tr B O to BO 1 BO w 1 tr B C to 1 B C 
 
 coast? Student | of history , [compare for me | the baffled | 
 shuffle bk B C shuffle bk B C 
 
 projects, I the abandoned | adventures | of other times, | 
 
 turn to 1 B O 
 
 and find a parallel || of this. 
 
 3. Now, sir, | what was the c6nduct | of your 6wn \ 
 
 R C F at side pointing 1 front R C F pointing down 
 
 allies I to Poland? | Is there a siyigle \ atrocity \ of the 
 
 repeat F down repeat F repeat F repeat F w to 
 
 French \ in Italy, | in Switzerland, — | in J^gypt, \ if you 
 
 IRO IRO IRO snatch to fist on op waist 
 
 please, — | more | unprincipled \ and inhuman \ than that of 
 
 front R C F down repeat F repeat F w to R O 
 
 Etjssia, I Austria | and Prussia | in Poland? 
 
 1 RO exaggerated 8 RO f RO turn 
 
 4. Yes; they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, 
 to R C F up on br w m R C to f s m R C prone stroke stroke 
 
 who are themselves the slaves of passion, Avarice and pride! 
 
 w R C tr to br R C w m R C to s 
 
 They offer us their protection: yes, such protection as viil- 
 
 t RC h Reshuffle 1 RC 
 
 tures give to lambs, — covering and devouring them! 
 
 w to 1 bk BC 
 
 Tell your invaders | we seek | no | change, — | and | 
 
 ^1 BO widel BO 
 
 least of all, | such \ change | as th^y \ would bring us. 
 
 Students who cannot give the downward inflection may, at first, 
 attempt to accent each word necessitating a downward inflection as 
 if the sentence ended on it. After they have acquired facility in 
 doing this they can learn to start the downward inflection, if neces- 
 sary, on a higher key (§§ 75-77.) Beginners should use only the 
 closing part of the circumflex, which, unless very emphatic, is not 
 well given except when it is slightly given, and usually requires 
 some cultivation of the voice. 
 
158 OEATOR'S MANUAL. 
 
 VEHEMENT, VIGOROUS AND APPELLATORY 
 SELECTIONS 
 
 For obvious reasons, the extracts published in this work are none of them 
 of a partisan, sectional or sectarian character; and have all been selected, on 
 the principle of the survival of the fittest, from those that, in the author's own 
 experience, have been found to be best adapted for the purposes for which they 
 are used. 
 
 210. In all these tiie predominating 
 
 Time is slower. Pitch slightly higher, and Tone much louder than in 
 oi'dinary conversation. 
 
 Force is natural, tending toward sustained (§§ 113, 114) ; explosive on very 
 vehement passages, otherwise expulsive ; and 
 
 Q,uality, orotund, often made aspirate to express intensity, and guttural to 
 express hostility (§§ 135-137). 
 
 211. Assertive, Positive Style ; mainly Downward In- 
 flections. Predominating Terminal stress (§ 101); but on vehement 
 passages, Initial (§ 100), and sometimes, on very emphatic syllables, 
 not followed by others m the same word, Compound [see § 45: b, c; 
 §103: a). 
 
 1. EEPLY TO MR. FLOOD, 1783.— Henry Grattan. 
 
 It is not the slander of an evil tongue that can defame me. No 
 man, who has not a had \ character, | can ever say that I deceived. 
 No country can call me a cheat. But I will suppose such a public 
 character. I will suppose such a man | to have | existence. I will 
 begin with his character in his political | cradle, and I will follow 
 him to the last stage of political | dissolution. I will suppose him, 
 
 1 f R o 
 in the first stage of his life, to have been inteuqjerate ; in the second, 
 
 1 R q s R o 
 
 to have been corrupt; and in the last, seditious; — that, after an 
 
 w to br m R C 
 envenomed attack on the persons and measures of a succession of 
 
 w m R C _ to s R C _ 
 
 viceroys, and after much | declamation against th^ir illegalities and 
 
 w tr R C to waist and w to 1 f R O 
 their profusion, h& | took office, and became a supporter | of Gov- 
 
 1 R ^ O 
 emment, when the profusion of ministers had greatly increased, and 
 
 1 s R o 
 their crimes multiplied beyond example. 
 
 With regard to the liberties | of America, which were insepar- 
 
 w br L C to 
 able ! from ours, I will suppose this gentleman to have been an 
 
SELECTIOi^'S FOR DECLAMATIOIvr. 159 
 
 m 8 L C ^ w tr L C to s L C 
 
 enemy decided and unreserved; that he voted against | her liberty, 
 
 wmtrLCF toius LC F 
 
 and voted, moreover, for an address to send /onr | thousand \ Irish \ 
 trdoj)s I to cut the throats \ of the Americans; that he called these 
 
 1 L o ^ 
 butchers ''armed \ negotiators,'' and stood with a metaphor in his 
 
 m L ,C 
 
 mouth and a bribe in his pocket, a champion against the rights of 
 
 1 B O ^ ^ m BO 
 
 America, — of America, the onli/ hope of Ireland, and the onig \ 
 
 1 B O 
 
 refuge of the liheHies \ of mankind. Thus defective in every | rela- 
 tionship, whether to constitution, commerce, or toleration, I will 
 
 1 f R O F w to 
 
 suppose this man to have added much private | improbity to pub- 
 
 1 R O 1 f R O . '^ 
 
 lie I crimes; that \\h probity was like his patriotism, and his honor 
 1 f R C to s R C 
 
 on a level with his oath. He loves to deliver panegyrics on himself. 
 I will interrupt him, and say: 
 
 Sir, you are much mistaken if you think that your talents have 
 been as great as your life has been reprehensible. You began your 
 parliamentary career with an acrimony and personality which could 
 
 1 L O 
 have been justiiSed only by a supposition of virtue-, after a rank and 
 
 w L C to m s L C 
 
 clamorous opposition, you became, on a sudden, | silent; you were 
 
 msLC msLC 
 
 silent for seven \ years; you were silent on the greatest questions, 
 
 1 L O 
 and you were silent | for | money! You supported the unparalleled 
 
 1 RO 
 profusion and jobbing of Lord Harcourt's | scandalous | ministry. 
 
 w tr 1 R O to waist ^ C 
 
 You, sir, who manufacture stage | thunder against Mr. Eden for 
 Ft 1 R O 
 
 his I anti- American principles, — you, sir, whom it pleases to chant 
 
 m R O 1 R 
 
 a hymn to the immortal Hampden; — you, sir, approved of the 
 tyranny exercised against America, — and you, sir, voted four \ 
 shake 1 B O ^ f B Ft 
 
 thousand \ Irish troops to cut the throats of the Americans fighting 
 
 wide BO f B ^ O 
 
 for their freedom, fighting for your freedom, fighting for the great | 
 
 wide m BO 
 principle, 1 1 liberty! But you found, at last, that the Court had 
 
 m s L C w tr L C 
 
 bought, but would not trust you. Mortified at the discoveiy, you try 
 
160 orator's manual. 
 
 to waist L C w L O to 
 
 the sorry game of a trimmer in your progress to the acts of an 
 L O 
 
 incendiary; and observing, with regard to Prince and People, the 
 
 R ^ O snatch to C Ft on 
 most impartial | treachery and desertion, you justifij the suspicion of 
 waist w mRCtofsRC wsRC 
 
 your Sovereign by hetrdijing the Government, as you had sold the 
 People. Such has been your conduct, and at such conduct every 
 
 1 R O ^ f 
 
 order of your fellow-subjects have a right to exclaim! The m^r- 
 1 R O ^ IRQ 
 
 chant may say to you, the constitutionalist may say to you, the 
 sRO ^ fROJ' wto fhs^RC 
 
 American may say to you, — and /, / now say, and say to your heard, 
 
 w s R C 
 sir, — you are not an honest \ man! 
 
 2. REPLY TO THE DUKE OF GRAFTON.- Zorc? Thurlow. 
 
 I am amazed at the attack which the noble Duke has 
 made on me. Yes, my Lords, I am amazed at his Grace's 
 speech. The noble Duke cannot look before him, behind 
 him, or on either side of him, vv^ithout seeing some noble 
 Peer v^ho owes his seat in this House to his successful exer- 
 tions in the profession to which I belong. Does he not feel 
 that it is as honorable to owe it to these, as to being the 
 accident of an accident? To all these noble Lords the lan- 
 guage of the noble Duke is as applicable, and as insulting, as 
 it is to myself. But I do not fear to meet it single and alone. 
 
 No one venerates the Peerage more than I do; but, my 
 Lords, I must say that the Peerage solicited me, — not I the 
 Peerage. Nay, more, — I can say, and tvill say, that, as a 
 Peer of Parliament, as Speaker of this right honorable 
 House, as keeper of the great seal, as guardian of his 
 Majesty's conscience, as Lord High Chancellor of England, — 
 nay, even in that character alone in which the noble Duke 
 would think it an affront to be considered, but which char- 
 acter none can deny me, as a man, — I am at this moment 
 as respectable, — I beg leave to add, I am as much respected, 
 ' — as the proudest Peer I now look down upon! 
 
SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATION^'. 161 
 
 3. PAELIAMEXTARY REFORM, 1831.— Lord Brougham. 
 
 My Lords, I do not disguise | the intense \ solicitude wliich I feel 
 for the event of this debate, because I know full well that the ^jeace 
 of the country is involved in the issue. I cannot look without dis- 
 mdij at the rejection of this measure of Parliamentary Reform. But, 
 grievous as may be the consequences of a temporary defeat, t^mpo- 
 
 1 R O 
 
 rary it can only be; for its ultimate, and even speedy success, is cer- 
 
 w m s R C w 1 
 
 tain. Nothing can now stbp it. Do not suffer yourselves to be 
 
 BO m br B C w to f B C and to m 
 
 persuaded that, even if the present 3Iinisters were driven from the 
 
 8 BC w tr BC to 
 
 helm, any one could steer you through the troubles which surround 
 
 1 sBC^ 
 you, ivithdut \ reform. But our successors would take up the task in 
 
 1 L O ^ 
 
 circumstances far less auspicious. Under them, you would be fain 
 to grant a bill, compared with which, the one we now proffer you is 
 1 R O 1 R O 1 f R O w to 
 
 moderate \ indeed. Hear the parable of the Sibyl, for it conveys a 
 
 1 R O 
 wise and wholesome moral. She now appears at your gate, and 
 offers you mildly the volumes — the precious volumes — of wisdom 
 and p&ace. The price she asks is reasonahJe; to restore the frdn- 
 
 w 
 chise, which, ivitJiout any bargain, you ought voluntarily \ to give. 
 mRCtosRC msRC ms 
 
 You refuse her terms — her moderate terms ; — she darkens the porch 
 R C prone w 
 
 no longer. But soon — for you cannot do without \ her wares — you 
 
 1 s R O 1 R O down 
 
 call her hack. Again she comes, but with diminished \ treasures; 
 1 R O snatch to R C Ft to br 
 
 the leaves of the book are in part torn away by lawless hands, in 
 w 1 R C to s R c 
 
 part defaced with characters of blood. But the prophetic maid has 
 
 1 f BO 
 risen in her demands; — it is Parliaments by the Year — it is Vote 
 1 BO. '"'ide ^ B O m tr and 
 
 hj the Ba.llot — it is suffrage by the million! From this you turn 
 msRC ^ w msRChRCF 
 
 away indignant; and, for the second time, she departs. Beware 
 shake ^ 1 f R O F f R O w to 1 
 
 of her third coming! for the treasure you must \ have; and what 
 R ^O 1 R O 1 
 
 price she may next demand, who | shall t^U? It may even be the 
 7* 
 
163 orator's makual. 
 
 s R O 
 
 mace which rests upon that woolsack! What may follow \ your 
 course of obstinacy, if persisted in, I cannot take upon me to pre- 
 
 1 f L o 1 L o 
 
 diet, nor do I wish to conjecture. But this 1 know full w611; that, 
 as sure as man is mortal, and to err is human, justice \ deferred | 
 enhances the ^rice | at which you must purchase safety 2,ndi peace; — 
 
 1 f R O 
 nor can you expect to gather in another \ crop | than they did who 
 
 s R o ^ 
 
 wei)t before you, if you persevere in their utterly ahomindble \ hus- 
 wife to s R C snatch tr and 1 R O 
 bandrt/, of sowing \ injustice and reaping \ rebellion. 
 
 But, among the awful considerations that now bow down my 
 mind, there is one that stands preeminent above the r^st. You are 
 1 R o 1 f R o 1 f 
 
 the highest {judicature in the r^alm; you sit here sls judges, and 
 ROF wlsRC^ 
 
 decide all causes, civil and criminal, without appeal. It is a judge's | 
 first I duty never to pronounce a sentence, in the most trifling case, 
 
 f BO 1 B O 
 
 without hearing. Will you make this the exception ? Are you really 
 
 1 B O wms B C 
 
 prepared to determine, but not to hear, the mighty cause, upon which 
 
 1 B O h E ^C 
 
 a nation's hopes and fears | hang? You are ? Then beware of your 
 
 1 EG Ft 
 decision! Rouse \ not, I beseech you, a peace-loving but a resolute 
 
 w m B ^ 
 
 people! Alienate not from your body the affections of a whole \ Em- 
 C ^ ' 1 f R O 1 
 
 pire! As your friend, as the friend of my order, as the friend of my 
 R O m s R O 
 
 country, as the faithful | servant of my sovereign, I counsel you to 
 
 1 L O 
 assist, with your uttermost Efforts, in preserving the peace, and uphold- 
 m L O m 
 
 ing and perpetuating the Constitution. Therefore, I pray and exhort 
 
 s R C ^ 1 f R p 
 
 you not to reject \ this measure. By all you hold most dear, by all 
 
 1 R O 
 the ties that bind every one of us to our common | order and our 
 
 sRO fRO hRC hRC 
 
 common | country, I solemnly adjiire you, I warn you, I implore 
 
 tr R C to br w m s R C ^ 
 
 you, — yea, on my bended knees I supplicate you, — reject \ ndt \ this 
 bill! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 163 
 
 4. ON THE IRISH DISTURBANCE BILL. — Daniel 0' ConneH. 
 
 I do not rise to fawn or cringe to this House ; — I do not 
 rise to supplicate you to be merciful toward the nation to 
 which I belong, — toward a nation which, though subject to 
 England, jQt is distinct from it. It is a distinct nation: it 
 has been treated as such by this country, as may be proved 
 by history, and by seven hundred years of tyranny. I call 
 upon this House, as you value the liberty of England, not to 
 allow the present nefarious bill to pass. In it are involved 
 the liberties of England, the liberty of the Press, and of 
 every other institution dear to Englishmen. Against the 
 bill I protest, in the name of the Irish People, and in the face 
 of Heaven. I treat with scorn the puny and pitiful asser- 
 tion that grievances are not to be complained of, — that our 
 redress is not to be agitated; for, in such cases, remon- 
 strances cannot be too strong, agitation cannot be too vio- 
 lent, to show to the world with what injustice our fair 
 claims are met, and under what tyranny the people suffer. 
 
 The clause which does away with trial by jury, — what, 
 in the name of Heaven, is it, if it is not the establishment of 
 a revolutionary tribunal? It drives the judge from his 
 bench; it does away with that which is more sacred than the 
 Throne itself, — that for which your king reigns, your lords 
 deliberate, your commons assemble. If ever I doubted, be- 
 fore, of the success of our agitation for repeal, this bill, — 
 this infamous bill, — the way in which it has been received 
 by the House ; the manner in which its opponents have been 
 treated; the personalities to which they have been sub- 
 jected; the yells with which one of them has this night been 
 greeted, — all these things dissipate my doubts^ and tell me 
 of its complete and early triumph. Do you think those yells 
 will be forgotten? Do you suppose their echo will not reach 
 the plains of my injured and insulted country; that they will 
 not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her 
 
164 orator's manual. 
 
 lofty hills? Oil, they will be heard there! — yes, and they 
 will not be forgotten. The youth of Ireland will bound 
 with indignation, — they will say, "We are eight millions, 
 and you treat us thus, as though we were no more to your 
 country than the isle of Guernsey or of Jersey! " 
 
 I have done my duty. I stand acquitted to my conscience 
 and my country. I have opposed this measure throughout, 
 and I now protest against it, as harsh, oppressive, uncalled 
 for, unjust; — as establishing an infamous precedent, by re- 
 taliating crime against crime; — as tyrannous, — cruelly and 
 vindictively tyrannous ! 
 
 5. EMPLOYMENT OF INDIANS IN THE AMERICAN WAR. 
 
 Earl of Chatham. 
 
 My Lords, — Who is the man that, in addition to the disgraces 
 and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our 
 arms the tomahawk and scalping- knife of the savage ? — to call into 
 civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the wdods ? — 
 to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rights, 
 and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren? 
 
 1 L O ^ 1 L O 
 
 My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. 
 
 wmtrRC tof sRC 
 But, my Lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only 
 
 1 bk R C bk R C 1 R O 
 
 on the principles of policy and necessity, but also on those of mo- 
 
 1 BO 
 rality ; " for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, " to use all 
 
 wide BO 
 the means which God and nature have put into our hands." I am 
 1 B c 1 B c 
 
 astonished, I am shocked^ to hear such principles confessed; to hear 
 
 them avowed in this House, or in this country! 
 
 My Lords, I did not intend to encroach so much on your atten- 
 tion; but I cannot repress m.j indignation; — I iee\ vny&eM impelled 
 
 1 R O 
 
 to speak. My Lords, we are called upon as members of this Houses 
 fROsRO msRC^ IRC^ 
 
 as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity! — 
 
 lift R C to h R ^ C hold h R 
 
 That God \ and nature \ have put into our hands! What ideas of 
 
 C down C 
 
 God and nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not; but I 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 165 
 
 w tr L C to br 
 
 know that such detestable principles are equally abhorrent to re- 
 
 L C w to m s L C 
 ligion and humanity. What! to attribute the sacred sanction of 
 
 1 R O Ft 
 Gdd and nature to the massacres of the Indian | scalping -knife! 
 IRQ s R O w tr C F to waist w C to s C w tr C 
 
 to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, decouring, drinking 
 to waist C 
 
 the hlood of his mangled victims! Such notions shock every pi^ecept 
 m R O^ w tr C F to br C F w to 1 R ^O 
 
 of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor! 
 
 1 O w br C to f m C 
 
 These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of 
 lift C and turn to 1 _ O Ft ^ 
 
 them, demand the most decisive indignation! 
 
 w 1 L O to f O w .to s m Cm 
 
 I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned b^nch, to 
 
 O h L o 1 L O 1 
 
 vindicate the religion of their Gdd, to support the justice of their 
 
 O w 1 R O to 1 w tr R C to br C to 
 
 country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity 
 
 m C w tr C to br C to m 
 
 of their lawn, — upon the judges, to interpose the purity of their 
 
 RC tomsC^ IRQ 
 
 ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of 
 
 bk R O 
 your lordships, to reverence \ the dignity \ of your ancestors, and to 
 
 m R O 
 maintain yoMY own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my coun- 
 1 , B O wide 1 B O 
 
 try, to vindicate the national character. I call upon your lordships, 
 
 B C tr ^ w to m f B C prone 
 
 and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon this in- 
 
 w tr B C to 1 f B C 
 
 famous \ procedure \ {he indelible \ stigmaoi the public | abhorrence. 
 
 6. CONSEQUENCES OF THE AMERICAN ^^ KU.— Earl of Chatham. 
 
 This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It 
 is no time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery can- 
 not save us, in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now 
 necessary to instruct the throne, in the lang^ua^e of Truth. 
 We must, if possible, dispel the delusion and darkness 
 which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine 
 colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. Can minis- 
 
166 oeator's manual. 
 
 ters still presume to expect support in their infatuation? 
 Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty as to be 
 thus deluded into the loss of the one, and the violation of 
 the other, — as to give an unlimited support to measures 
 which have heaped disgrace and misfortune upon us; meas- 
 ures which have reduced this late flourishing empire to 
 ruin and contempt? But yesterday, and England might 
 have stood against the world: now, none so poor as to do her 
 reverence! France, my Lords, has insulted you. She has 
 encouraged and sustained America; and, whether America 
 be wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to 
 spurn at the officious insult of French interference. Can 
 even our ministers sustain a more humiliating disgrace? 
 Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume even to hint 
 a vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the state, by 
 requiring the dismissal of the plenipotentiaries of America? 
 The people, whom they affected to call contemptible rebels, 
 but whose growing power has at last obtained the name of 
 enemies, — the people with whom they have engaged this 
 country in war, and against whom they now command our 
 implicit support in every measure of desperate hostility, — 
 this people, despised as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, 
 are abetted against you, supplied with every military store, 
 their interests consulted, and their ambassadors entertained, 
 by your inveterate enemy, — and our ministers dare not 
 interpose with dignity or effect! 
 
 My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, where 
 we cannot act with success nor suffer with honor, calls upon 
 us to remonstrate in the strongest and loudest language of 
 truth, to rescue the ear of majesty from the delusions which 
 surround it. You cannot, I venture to say it, you cannot 
 conquer America. What is your present situation there? 
 We do not know the worst; but we know that in three 
 campaigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You 
 may swell every expense, and strain every effort, still more 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOiT. 167 
 
 extravagantly; accumulate every assistance you can beg or 
 borrow; traffic and barter with every little pitiful German 
 prince, that sells and sends his subjects to the shambles of 
 a foreign country: your efibrts are forever vain and impo- 
 tent, — doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you 
 rely; for it irritates to an incurable resentment the minds 
 of your enemies, to overrun them with the sordid sons of 
 rapine and of plunder, devoting them and their possessions 
 to the rapacity of hireling cruelty! . If I were an Ameri- 
 can, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was 
 landed in my countrj^, I never would lay down my arms! 
 — never! never! never! 
 
 7. THE CONDITION OF IRELAND.- T'. F. Meagher. 
 
 (0) The war of centuries is at a close. The patronage and pro- 
 scriptions of Ebr'mgton have failed. The procrastination and 
 economy of Russell \ have tnamphed. Let a thauksgiving \ be pro- 
 claimed from the pulpit of St. Paul's. 
 
 1 f R O 
 {A 0) Let the Lords and Commons of England vote their gratitude 
 1 s R O f h 
 
 to the vicious and victorious economist! Let the guus of London 
 RC ^ shRC backhRC 
 
 Tower | proclaim the triumph which has cost, in the past, culf.'rs of 
 
 s R C prone 
 gold and torrents of blood, and, in this year, masses of pntrefdc- 
 
 1 B O 
 tion, I to achieve. England! your great | difficulty is at an e«fZ.- your 
 wis BC. ^ BCback 
 
 gallant and impetuous enemy is dead! Ireland, or rather the remains 
 
 1 BO 
 
 of Ireland, are yours at last. {G 0) Your red ensign floats, not from 
 
 hRCF hs R C F 
 
 the Custom House, where you played the robher; not from Limerick 
 
 s R 
 
 wall, where you played the cut-throat; but it flies from a thousand | 
 C prone w to R C Ft on waist _ 1 R O 
 
 graveyards, where the titled | niggards of your cabinet | have ivon 
 
 m R O m s R C 
 
 the battle which your | soldiers \ could not terminate. 
 m s R C and down 
 [A 0) Go; send your scourge \ steamer to the western | coast to 
 
168 orator's manual. 
 
 s R O ^ 
 
 convey some memdrial of your conquest; and in the halls where the 
 
 flags and cannon you have captured from a world of foes are grouped 
 
 s R O snatch Ft to waist w 
 
 together, there let a shroud, stripped from some privileged corpse, 
 
 to sRO wsRC wshRC^ 
 
 be for its proper price | displayed. Stop not there; change your war 
 
 h R C F ^ h C pr and falling 
 
 crest; America has her eagle; let England have her vulture. What 
 
 1 R O Ft 
 
 emblem | more fit \ for the (G) rapacious power whose statesmanship | 
 
 w R C to m s C w R C Ft tr to br Ft to 1 R O 
 
 depopulates, and whose commerce | is gorged with famine | prices? 
 
 1 R O 
 (0) That is her proper \ signal. But whatever the monarch | journal- 
 
 1 BC 
 
 ists of Europe may say, {A 0) Ireland, thank God, is not down \ y^t. 
 
 1 B C 1 B O Ft 
 
 {A G) She is on her knee; but her hand ] is clinched \ against \ the 
 
 1 B OFt 1 BO 
 
 giant, and she has yet power | to strike. 
 
 (0) Last year, from the Carpathian heights, we heard the cry of the 
 Polish insurrectionists: "There is hope for Poland, while in Poland 
 
 1 R p f 
 
 there is a life to lose." {A 0) There is hope for Ireland, while in 
 
 RO wlsRC wsRC 
 
 Ireland there is a life to lose. True it is, thousands upon thousands 
 
 w s R C m 
 
 of our comrades have fallen; but thousands upon thousands still 
 BO 1 BC , 1 
 
 survive; and the fate of the dead shall quicken the purposes of the 
 
 BO h R C drop and lift h C 
 
 living. The stakes are too \ high \ for us to throw up the hand until 
 
 f h C prone h C w to br C and 
 
 the last I card \ has been pldijed ; too high for us to throw ourselves 
 
 f C prone 1 ^C 
 
 in despair upon the coffins of our starved and swindled partners. 
 
 (0) A peasant population, generous and heroic, a mechanic | popu- 
 lation, honest and industrious, is at stake. 
 m BO 1 BO 
 
 They cannot, \ miist not, | be | lost. 
 
 8. AGAINST CURTAILING THE RIGHT OF SUFFRAGE.— Fictor Hugo. 
 
 Gentlemen: I address the men who govern us, and say 
 to them, — Go on, cut off three millions of voters; cut off 
 eight out of nine, and the result will be the same to you, if 
 
SELECTIONS FOE DECLAMATIOX. 169 
 
 it be not more decisive. What you do not cut off is your 
 own faults; tlie absurdities of your policy of compression, 
 your fatal incapacity, your ignorance of the present epoch, 
 the antipathy you feel for it, and that it feels for you; what 
 you will not cut off is the times which are advancing, the 
 hour now striking, the ascending movement of ideas, the 
 gulf opening broader and deeper between yourself and the 
 age, between the young generation and jou, between the 
 spirit of liberty and you, between the spirit of philosophy 
 and you. 
 
 What you will not cut off is this immense fact, that the 
 nation goes to one side, while 3'ou go to the other; that what 
 for you is the sunrise is for it the sun's setting; that you 
 turn your backs to the future, while this great people of 
 France, its front all radiant with light from the rising dawn 
 of a new humanity, turns its back to the past. 
 
 Gentlemen, this law is invalid; it is null; it is dead even 
 before it exists. And do you know what has killed it? It 
 is that, when it meanly approaches to steal the vote from the 
 pocket of the poor and feeble, it meets the keen, terrible eye 
 of the national probity, a devouring light, in which the work 
 of darkness disappears. 
 
 Yes, men who govern us, at the bottom of every citizen's 
 conscience, the most obscure as well as the greatest, at the very 
 depths of the soul, (I use your own expression,) of the last 
 beggar, the last vagabond, there is a sentiment, sublime, 
 sacred, insurmountable, indestructible, eternal, — the senti- 
 ment of right! This sentiment, which is the very essence 
 of the human conscience, which the Scriptures call the cor- 
 ner-stone of justice, is the rock on which iniquities, hypoc- 
 risies, bad laws, evil designs, bad governments, fall, and are 
 shipwrecked. This is the hidden, irresistible obstacle, veiled 
 in the recesses of every mind, but ever present, ever active, 
 on which you will always exhaust yourselves; and which, 
 8 
 
170 
 
 whatever you do, you will never destroy. I warn you, your 
 labor is lost; you will not extinguish it, you will not confuse 
 it. Far easier to drag the rock from the bottom of the sea, 
 than the sentiment of right from the heart of the people! 
 
 9. KESISTANCE TO BRITISH AGGBHSSIO'N.— Patrick Henry. 
 
 Mr. President: It is natural to man to indulge in the illu- 
 sions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a pain- 
 ful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, till she 
 transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, 
 engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are 
 we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes 
 see not, and having ears hear not, the things which so nearly 
 concern our temporal salvation? For my part, whatever 
 anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole 
 truth, — to know the worst, and to provide for it! 
 
 I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided, and 
 that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judg- 
 ing of the future but by the past. And, judging by the 
 past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of 
 the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify those 
 hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace 
 themselves and the House? Is it that insidious smile with 
 which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, 
 sir; it will prove a snare to your feet! Suffer not your- 
 selves to be betrayed with a kiss! Ask yourselves how this 
 gracious reception of our petition comports with those war- 
 like preparations which cover our waters and darken our 
 land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
 reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to 
 be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our 
 love? 
 
 Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the imple- 
 ments of war and subjugation, — the last arguments to which 
 
SELECTIOi^S ¥0K DECLAMATION^. 171 
 
 kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial 
 array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can 
 gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has 
 Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to 
 call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, 
 sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be 
 meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet 
 upon us those chains which the British ministry have been 
 so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? — 
 Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for 
 the last ten years. 
 
 Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? 
 What terms shall we find which have not already been 
 exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves 
 longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, 
 to avert the storm which is now coming on. "We have 
 petitioned, we have remonstrated, w^e have supplicated, we 
 have prostrated ourselves before the Throne, and have im- 
 plored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the 
 Ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, 
 our remonstrances have produced additional violence and 
 insult, our supplications have been disregarded, and we have 
 been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the Throne. 
 
 In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope 
 of peace and reconciliation. If we wish to be free, — if we 
 mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for 
 which we have been so long contending, — if we mean not 
 basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been 
 so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never 
 to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be 
 obtained, — we must fight; I repeat it, sir, we must fight! 
 An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is 
 left us! 
 
172 orator's manual. 
 
 10. THE WAR INEVITABLE, March, 111b.— Patrick Henry. 
 
 They tell us, sir, that we are w^ak, — unable to cope with so for- 
 midable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be 
 the next w6ek, or the next y^ar? Will it be when we are totally dis- 
 armed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? 
 Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we 
 acquire the means of effectual | resistance by lying supinely on our 
 10 w tr C Ft to _ br C Ft and w tol BO 
 
 backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of iiope, until our enemies 
 
 1 B O Ft 1 B O w 1 B C 
 
 shall have bound us | hand | and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we 
 
 make a proper | use [ of those means which the God of nature hath 
 
 placed in our power. 
 
 1 RO m RO 
 
 Three millions of People, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and 
 m s R O m f R^O 1 R O 
 
 in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by dni/ force 
 
 which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight 
 
 h L O 
 our battles alone. There is a just | God who presides over the desti- 
 
 1 L O 1 L O 
 
 nies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles ior 
 
 f R O 
 us. The battle, sir, is not to the strdng alone; it is to the vigilant, 
 
 IRO IROFt wmsRC 
 
 the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were 
 
 wtrRCtobrC wmsRC wms C 
 
 base enough to desire it, it is now too | late to retire from the contest. 
 
 There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are 
 
 1 L O s L O 
 
 forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston ! The 
 
 fLO 1 BO 1 BO 
 
 war is inevitable; and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! 
 
 It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cr^, 
 mLO mLO m sLC C 1 L O^ 
 
 p(?ace, peace! — but there is | no peace. The war is actually began! 
 
 The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the 
 
 m s L ^ C 
 clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the fifeld! 
 
 1 R O 1 O 1 L O 
 
 Why stand ire here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What 
 
 1 L^ O 
 
 would they have ? Is life \ so ] d^ar | or peace | so | sw^et [ as to 
 
 1 B O Ft B C h B C 
 
 be purchased at the price of chains | and slavery ? Forbid it, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 173 
 
 h B C ^ drop back 1 B C 1 
 
 Almighty I God! I know not what course others may take; but as for 
 BO m BO drop B C 
 
 me, give me liberty, or give me death ! 
 
 11. THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.— Supposed Speech of John 
 Adams, in the Continental Congress, July, 1776.— Daniel Webster. 
 
 Sink or swim, live or di&, survive or parish, I give my hand and 
 my heart to this vote! It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning, 
 we aimed not at independence. But there is a Divinity which 
 shapes our ^nds. The injustice of England has driven us to arms; 
 and, blinded to her own interest for our good, she has obstinately 
 
 1 R Ft 
 persisted, till independence is now within our grasp. We have but 
 
 mRO IRO wlsRC^ 
 
 to reach /or^^ to it, and it is ours. Why, th^n, should we defer the 
 
 IRO snatch to waist C Ft 
 declaration? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us 
 
 IRO s R O 
 character abroad. The cause \ will raise up armies; — the cause \ 
 IRO 1 RO trRCFto 
 
 will create navies. The people, — the people, — if we are true to 
 
 br wRCtomC w C tr to br C w to f C 
 
 them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously | through \ 
 
 this struggle. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with 
 increased | courage. Instead of along | and bloody | war for restora- 
 tion I of privileges, | for redress | of grievances, | for chartered | 
 
 immunities, I held under a British | king, | set before them the ^ZoW- 
 h ^ BO h B 
 
 ous I object I of entire \ independence, and it will breathe into them 
 C ^ falling B C pr ^ m R 
 
 aneiv \ the breath | oi life. Read this declaration at the head of the 
 
 O tr C Ft ^ to waist w R C 
 
 army; — every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the sol- 
 
 to h C h C falling C pr 
 
 emn | vow | uttered, to iuaintaiii it, or to perish on the bed of honor. 
 
 mLOhLO ILO w 
 
 Publish it from the pulpit; — religion will approve it, and the love 
 tr L C and tosLC msLC sL 
 
 of religious liberty will cling | round it, resolved to statid | with it, 
 
 ^C pr m s R C 
 
 or fall with. it. Send it to the public halls; proclaim it there; let 
 
 w mtrRC to m sRC 
 
 thetn I hear it who heard the first | roar of the enemy's | cannon, — let 
 
 w tr R c 
 
 them 1 see it who saw their brothers and their sons fall on the field 
 
174 orator's manual. 
 
 tomsC msRCm sRC 
 
 of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Concord,— and 
 
 h s R C down 
 
 the very walls will cry out in its support ! 
 
 Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs; but I see | clearly | 
 
 through this day's business. You and /, indeed, may rue it. 
 
 We may not live to see the time when this declaration shall be 
 
 ILO fLO wlLC w 
 
 made gdod. We may die, — die cdlouists; die shires; die, it may be, 
 ILC^ wmsLC WlLC WlLC 
 
 ignominiously, and on the scaffold! Be it so! he it so! If it be the 
 
 pleasure of Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering 
 
 of my life, the victim shall be r^ady at the appointed hour of sacri- 
 
 f BO wide 
 
 fice, come when that hour mdtj. But while I do live, let me have a 
 BO h BO wide 1 B O 
 
 country, — or, at least, the hope of a country, and that a/ree country. 
 
 But, whatever may be our fate, be assured that this declaration 
 
 will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost hlood; but it will 
 f R O ^ 1 R p slowly lift 
 
 stand, and it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick 1 
 R C to h^ C ^ h R 
 
 gloom of the present I see the brightness of the future, as the sun 
 CF ^ hCF 
 in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immdrtal day. 
 
 w 1 B C 1 B O m B O 1 
 
 When we | are in our graves, our children will honor it. They will 
 
 ^ B O 
 celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with bbnfires, and 
 
 illnmindtions . On its annual return, they will shed tears, — copious, 
 
 w 1 B C w 1 BC w 1 BC 
 
 gushing tears, — not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and 
 
 BC h BO ^ m BO 1 ^BO 
 
 distress, — but of exultation, of gratitude, and oi' joy. Sir, before 
 
 God, I believe the hour is come! My judgment approves this meas- 
 
 1 R O f R O 
 
 ure, and my whole heart is in it. All that I have, and all that I dm, 
 
 h R O f R C ^pr 
 
 and all that I hope, in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon 
 
 drop bk R C 
 it; and I leave off, as I began, that, live or die, survive or perish, 1 
 
 m BO ^ 1 BO 
 
 am for the declaration! It is my living \ sentiment, | and, by the 
 
 m BO 
 blessing of God, it shall be my dying j sentiment, — Independ- 
 1 B O 
 
 ENCE I now, I and Independence 1 forever! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOl!^. 175 
 
 12. NORTHERN LABORERS.-C. Naylor. 
 
 (0) The gentleman has misconceived the spirit and tendency 
 
 of northern | institiitions. He is ig-norant of northern [ character. 
 
 He has forgotten the history | of his country. Preach | msiirrectioji 
 
 1 R O 
 to the northern | laborers! Who are \ the northern laborers'? The 
 
 IfRO IsRO IsRO 
 
 history of your country is their history. The renown of i/oiir coun- 
 
 1 f R O w m tr . ^ C and 
 
 try in their lenowii. The brightness | of their doings | h eiuhldzoned 
 torn sLC sLC 
 
 on its every \ page. Blot \ from your annals | the deeds \ and the 
 
 w m B C tr 
 
 doings \ of northern \ laborers, and the history of your country pre- 
 
 and to m f s BC 
 sents but a universal \ blank. 
 
 h. R 
 (AO) Who was he that disarmed | the thunderer; wrested from 
 O Ft change to h f C prone ^ change to 
 
 his grasp the bolts | of Jove; calmed the troubled | ocean; became 
 
 h C F change to f C 
 
 the central \ sun \ of \he philosophical system \ of his age, shedding 
 
 prone w R 
 
 his brightness and effulgence on the whole \ civilized \ world; parti- 
 
 _ C to br C Ft m R O w 
 
 cipated in the achievement of your independence; prominently 
 
 R C across body and to 
 
 assisted in moulding your/ree institutions, and the beneficial effects 
 
 s f C prone 
 of whose wisdom will be felt to the last \ moment \ of "recorded 
 and down 1 R O 1 R O 
 
 time ? " Who, I ask, was he? (0) A northern | laborer, a Yankee | 
 
 1 f R O IsRO 
 
 tallow-chdndler's son, ?i printer s runaway | boy! 
 
 And who, let me ask the honorable gentleman, who was h^ that, 
 
 in the days of our Revolution, led forth a northern ] army, — yes, an 
 
 m B 
 army of northern \ Idhorers, \ {A 0) — and aided the chivalry of South 
 O ^ w h B C tr and tohf BC wBC tr 
 
 Carolina in their defense against British aggression, drove the spoil- 
 
 and to m s B C change to 1 B O 
 ers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign \ 
 
 1 BO 
 invaders ? Who was he ? (0) A northern | laborer, a Rhode Island 
 
 10 wl C back 
 
 blacksmith, — the srallant General Greene, — {AO) who left his hammer 
 
 down 
 and his forge, \ and went forth conquering and to conquer in the 
 
176 orator's manual. 
 
 m O down 
 
 battle for our independence ! (0) And will you preach insurrection to 
 
 1 O 
 
 men like these ? 
 
 1 o 
 Our country is full of the achievements of northern laborers! 
 
 Where are Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Trenton, 
 
 IRQ w m 
 
 and Saratog-a, and Bunker Hill, but in the north? And what has 
 
 tr R C and to m s C 
 
 shed an imperishable renown | on the never-dying names of those 
 
 hallowed spots but the [AO) blood and the struggles, the high \ daring 
 
 1 BO 
 and patriotism, and sublime \ courage of northern \ laborers? (0) 
 m BO ^ h BO 
 
 The tvhole \ north is an everlasting \ monwnent of the freedom, vir- 
 
 1 BO 
 
 tue, intelligence, and indomitable indep('n<ieiie< (.-f northern laborers! 
 
 w m B C 1 BO 
 
 Go, preach insurrection to men like these! 
 
 The fortitude of the men of the north, under intense suffering 
 h L O m L O 1 L O 
 
 for liberty's sake, has been almost godlike! History has so recorded 
 
 w 1 bk B C w bk 
 
 it. Who coniprUed that gallant army, that, without food, without 
 BC wbkBCwbkBCwbkBC wm s BC down 
 
 pay, shelterless, shoeless, penniless, and almost naked, in that 
 
 w 1 
 dreadful winter, — the midnight of our Revolution, — {AO) whose wan- 
 R C tr and 
 
 derings could be traced by their blood-tracks in the snow, whom no 
 to s R C w m tr C and to m s C m s C 
 
 arts could seduce, no appeal lead astray, no sufferings disafffect, but 
 
 w tr C F to br C F 
 who, true to their country, and its holy cause, continued to fight the 
 
 IROFt i^O ^ ^ ^JP 
 
 good fight of liberty, until it finally triumjjhed ? Who tvere these 
 
 1 R O 
 men? (0) Why, northern laborers! 
 
 13. THE AMERICAN SAILOR.— i?. F. Stockton. 
 
 Look to your history, — that part of it v^hich the v^orld 
 knows by heart, — and you will find on its brightest page 
 the glorious achievements of the American sailor. What- 
 ever his country has done to disgrace him, and break his 
 spirit, he has never disgraced her; he has always been ready 
 
SELECTIOiq^S rOR DECLAMATION". 177 
 
 to serve her; he always has served her faithfully and effect- 
 ually. He has often been weighed in the balance, and 
 never found wanting. The only fault ever found with him 
 is, that he sometimes fights ahead of his orders. The world 
 has no match for him, man for man; and he asks no odds, 
 and he cares for no odds, when the cause of humanity, or 
 the glory of his country, calls him to fight. Who, in the 
 darkest days of our Revolution, carried your flag into the 
 very chops of the British Channel, bearded the lion in his 
 den, and woke the echoes of old Albion's hills by the thun- 
 ders of his cannon and the shouts of his triumph? It was 
 the American sailor. And the names of John Paul Jones, 
 and the Bon Homme Richard, will go down the annals of 
 time forever. Who struck the first blow that humbled the 
 Barbary flag, — which for a hundred years had been the 
 terror of Christendom, — drove it from the Mediterranean, 
 and put an end to the infamous tribute it had been accus- 
 tomed to extort? It was the American sailor. And the 
 name of Decatur and his gallant companions will be as 
 lasting as monumental brass. In your war of 1812, when 
 your arms on shore were covered by disaster, — when Win- 
 chester had been defeated, when the army of the North- 
 west had surrendered, and when the gloom of despondency 
 hung like a cloud over the land, — who first relit the fires of 
 national glory, and made the welkin ring with the shouts of 
 victory? It was the American sailor. And the names of 
 Hull and the Constitution will be remembered, as long as 
 we have left anything worth remembering. That was no 
 small event. The wand of Mexican prowess was broken on 
 the Rio Grande. The wand of British invincibility was 
 broken when the flag of the Guerriere came down. That 
 one event was worth more to the Republic than all the 
 money which has ever been expended for the navy. Since 
 that day, the navy has had no stain upon its escutcheon, 
 but has been cherished as your pride and glory. And the 
 
178 orator's manual. 
 
 American sailor has established a reputation throughout 
 the world, — in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, — 
 for heroism and prowess unsurpassed. He shrinks from no 
 danger, he dreads no foe, and yields to no superior. No 
 shoals are too dangerous, no seas too boisterous, no climate 
 too rigorous for him. The burning sun of the tropics can- 
 not make him effeminate, nor can the eternal winter of the 
 polar seas paralyze his energies. Foster, cherish, develop 
 these characteristics, by a generous and paternal govern- 
 ment. Excite his emulation, and stimulate his ambition, by 
 rewards. And, when the final struggle comes, as soon it 
 will come, for the empire of the seas, you may rest with 
 entire confidence in the persuasion that victory will be 
 yours. 
 
 14. AMBITION OF A STATESMAN.— ^ewry Clay. 
 
 {0)1 have been accused of ambition in presenting this 
 measure — ambition, inordinate ambition. If I had thought 
 of myself only, I should have never brought it forward. I 
 know well the perils to which I expose myself; the risk of 
 alienating faithful and valued friends, with but little pros- 
 pects of making new ones, if any new ones could compensate 
 for the loss of those we have long tried and loved; and the 
 honest misconception both of friends and foes. Ambition? 
 If I had listened to its soft and seducing whispers; if I had 
 yielded myself to the dictates of a cold, calculating and pru- 
 dential policy, I would have stood still and unmoved. I 
 might even have silently gazed on the raging storm, enjoyed 
 its loudest thunders, and left those who arfe charged with the 
 care of the vessel of state to conduct it as they could. I have 
 been heretofore, often unjustly, accused of ambition. {G) Low, 
 groveling souls, who are utterly incapable of elevating them- 
 selves to the higher and nobler duties of pure patriotism — 
 beings who, forever keeping their own selfish ends in view, 
 decide all public measures by their presumed influence on 
 
SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 179 
 
 their aggrandizement — judge me by the venal rule which 
 they prescribe to themselves. I have given to the winds 
 those false accusations, as I consign that which now im- 
 peaches my motives. (0) I have no desire for office, not even 
 the highest. The most exalted is but a prison, in which the 
 incarcerated incumbent daily receives his cold, heartless 
 visitants, marks his weary hours, and is cut off from the 
 practical enjoyment of all the blessings of genuine freedom. 
 I am no candidate for any office in the gift of the people of 
 these states, united or separated; I never wish, never expect 
 to be. Pass this bill, tranquillize the country, restore confi- 
 dence and affection in the Union, and I am willing to go 
 home to Ashland, and renounce public service forever. I 
 should there find, in its groves, under its shades, on its lawns, 
 midst my flocks and herds, in the bosom of my family, sin- 
 cerity and truth, attachment, and fidelity, and gratitude, 
 which I have not always found in the walks of public life. 
 (A 0) Yes, I have ambition; but it is the ambition of being 
 the humble instrument, in the hands of Providence, to 
 reconcile a divided people; once more to revive concord and 
 harmony in a distracted land — the pleasing ambition of 
 contemplating the glorious spectacle of a free, united, pros- 
 perous, and fraternal people. 
 
 15. RIENZI'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.-ifary Russell Mitfm'd, 
 
 (0) Friends ! I come not here to talk. You know too well 
 
 The story of our thralldom. We are slaves! 
 
 The bright sun rises to his course and lights 
 
 A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beams 
 {A 0) Fall on a slave; not such as, swept along 
 
 By tne full tide of power, the conqueror led 
 
 To crimson glory and undying fame: 
 {GO) But l)ase, ignoble slaves; slaves to a horde 
 
 Of petty tij rants, feudal despots, lords 
 
 Rich in some dozen paltry villages; 
 
180 orator's manual. 
 
 Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great 
 {A 0) In that strange spell — a name. 
 
 Each hour, dark fraud 
 (0) Or open rapine, or protected murder, 
 
 Cries out against them. But this very day 
 
 An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — 
 {G) Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 
 (0) The badge of Ursini, because, forsooth! 
 
 He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 
 
 Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
 {G) At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men, 
 {G 0) And suffer such dishonor? — men, and wash not 
 
 The stain away in hlood ? Such shames are common. 
 (0) / have known deeper wrongs; 1, that speak to ye, 
 
 I had a brother once — a gracious boy, 
 
 Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, 
 {A P) Of sweet and quiet joy; — there was the look 
 
 Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 
 
 To the beloved disciple. 
 
 How I loved 
 That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years, 
 
 (P) Brother at once, and son! He left my side, 
 A summer bloom on his fair cheek; a smile 
 
 {^A G) Parting his innocent lips. In 07ie short hour 
 The pretty, harmless hoy was slain! I saw 
 The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
 
 (Cr 0) For vengeance! Rouse ye, Romans! rouse ye, slaves/ 
 Have ye brave sons ? Look in the next fierce brawl 
 To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? Look 
 To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
 Dishonored : and if ye dare call for justice, 
 Be answered by the lash. 
 
 (0) Yet, this is Rome, 
 
 That sat upon her seven hills, and from her throne 
 Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet, we are Romans. 
 
 (A 0) Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman 
 
 Was greater than a king! And, once again — 
 Hear me, ye walls that echoed to the tread 
 Of either Brutus! — once again, I swear, 
 The Eternal City shall be free! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOiT. 181 
 
 16. THE SEMINOLE^S DEFIANCE.- G''. W. Patten. 
 
 Blaze, with your serried columns! I will not bend the knee; 
 The shackle ne'er again shall bind the arm which now is free! 
 IVe mailed it with the thunder, when the tempest muttered low, 
 And where it falls, ye well may dread the lightning of its blow. 
 I've scared you in the city; I've scalped you on the plain; 
 Go, count your chosen where they fell beneath my leaden rain! 
 I scorn your proffered treaty; the pale-face 1 defy; 
 Revenge is stamped upon my spear, and " blood " my battle-cry! 
 
 Some strike for hope of booty; some to defend their all; — 
 
 I battle for the joy I have to see the white man fall. 
 
 I love, among the wounded, to hear his dying moan. 
 
 And catch, while chanting at his side, the music of his groan. 
 
 Ye've trailed me through the forest; ye've tracked me o'er the stream, 
 
 And struggling through the everglade your bristling bayonets gleam; 
 
 But I stand as should the warrior, with his rifle and his spear; 
 
 The scalp of vengeance still is red, and warns you, — come not here! 
 
 Think ye to find my homestead ? — I gave it to the fire. 
 
 My tawny household do ye seek? — I am a childless sire. 
 
 But, should ye crave life's nourishment, enough I have, and good; 
 
 I live on hate, — 'tis all my bread; yet light is not my food. 
 
 I loathe you with my bosom! I scorn you with mine eye! 
 
 And I'll taunt you with my latest breath, and fight you till I die! 
 
 I ne'er will ask for quarter, and I ne'er will be your slave; 
 
 But I'll swim the sea of slaughter till I sink beneath the wave! 
 
 The following:, in this style, are less vehement, and, for this reason, not so 
 well suited as the foregoing for those students whose delivery is naturally lacking 
 in force or spirit : 
 
 37. CIVIL WAR THE GREATEST NATIONAL EVIL, 1829. 
 Lo7'd Palmerston. 
 
 Then come we to the last remedy, — civil war. Some 
 gentlemen say that, sooner or later, we must fight for it, and 
 the sword must decide. They tell us that, if blood were but 
 shed in Ireland, Catholic emancipation might be avoided. 
 Sir, when honorable members shall be a little deeper read in 
 the history of Ireland, they will find that in Ireland blood 
 has been shed, — that in Ireland leaders have been seized, 
 
182 orator's manual. 
 
 trials have been had, and punishments have been inflicted. 
 They will find, indeed, almost every page of the history of 
 Ireland darkened by bloodshed, by seizures, by trials, and by 
 punishments. But what has been the effect of these meas- 
 ures? They have, indeed, been successful in quelling the 
 disturbances of the moment; but they never have gone to 
 their cause, and have only fixed deeper the poisoned barb 
 that rankles in the heart of Ireland. Can one believe one's 
 ears, when one hears respectable men talk so lightly — nay, 
 almost so wishfully — of civil war? Do they reflect what a 
 countless multitude of ills those three short syllables con- 
 tain? It is well, indeed, for the gentlemen of England, who 
 live secure under the protecting shadow of the law, whose 
 slumbers have never been broken by the clashing of angry 
 swords, whose harvests have never been trodden down by the 
 conflict of hostile feet, — it is well for them to talk of civil 
 war, as if it were some holiday pastime, or some sport of 
 children : 
 
 *' They jest at scars who never felt a wound." 
 
 But, that gentlemen from unfortunate and ill-starred Ire- 
 land, who have seen with their own eyes, and heard with 
 their own ears, the miseries which civil war produces, — who 
 have known, by their own experience, the barbarism, ay, the 
 barbarity, which it engenders, — that such persons should 
 look upon civil war as anything short of the last and greatest 
 of national calamities, — is to me a matter of the deepest and 
 most unmixed astonishment. I will grant, if you will, that 
 the success of such a war with Ireland would be as signal 
 and complete as would be its injustice; I will grant, if you 
 will, that resistance would soon be extinguished with the 
 lives of those who resisted ; I will grant, if you will, that the 
 crimsoned banner of England would soon wave, in undis- 
 puted supremacy, over the smoking ashes of their towns, and 
 the blood-stained solitude of their fields. But I tell you that 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 183 
 
 England herself never would permit the achievement of such 
 a conquest; England would reject, with disgust, laurels that 
 were dyed in fraternal blood; England would recoil, with 
 loathing and abhorrence, from the bare contemplation of so 
 devilish a triumph! 
 
 18. UNION WITH GREAT BRITAIN, 1800.— iT^nry Grattan. 
 
 The minister misrepresents the sentiments of the peoj^le, 
 as he has before traduced their reputation. He asserts, that 
 after a calm and mature consideration, they have pronounced 
 their judgment in favor of an Union. Of this assertion not 
 one syllable has any warrant in fact, nor in the appearance of 
 fact. I appeal to the petitions of twenty-one counties in evi- 
 dence. To affirm that the judgment of a nation against is 
 for; to assert that she has said ay when she has pronounced 
 nay ; to make the falsification of her sentiments the founda- 
 tion of her ruin, and the ground of the Union; to affirm that 
 her Parliament, Constitution, liberty, honor, property, are 
 taken away by her own authorit}', — there is, in such arti- 
 fice, an effrontery, a hardihood, an insensibility, that can 
 best be answered by sensations of astonishment and disgust. 
 
 The Constitution may be for a time so lost. The 
 character of the country cannot be so lost. The ministers 
 of the Crown will, or may, perhaps, at length find that it is 
 not so easy, by abilities however great, and by power and 
 corruption however irresistible, to put down forever an 
 ancient and respectable Nation. Liberty may repair her 
 golden beams, and with redoubled heat animate the country. 
 The cry of loyalty will not long continue against the prin- 
 ciples of libert}^ Loyalty is a noble, a judicious, and a capa- 
 cious principle ; but in these countries loyalty, distinct from 
 liberty, is corruption, not loyalty. 
 
 The cry of disaffection will not, in the end, avail against 
 the principle of liberty. I do not give up the country. I 
 see her in a swoon, but she is not dead. Though in her 
 
184 oeator's manual. 
 
 tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still there is on her 
 lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow of beauty: 
 
 " Thou art not conquered; Beauty's ensign yet 
 Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
 And Death's pale flag is not advanced there." 
 
 While a plank of the vessel sticks together, I will not 
 leave her. Let the courtier present his flimsy sail, and carry 
 the light bark of his faith with every new breath of wind ; I 
 will remain anchored here, with fidelity to the fortunes of my 
 country, faithful to her freedom, faithful to her fall ! 
 
 19. REPLY TO LORD NORTH, 1774.- Co^. Barre. 
 
 Sir, this proposition is so glaring; so unprecedented in 
 any former proceedings of Parliament; so unwarranted by 
 any delay, denial or provocation of justice, in America; so 
 big with misery and oppression to that country, and with 
 danger to this, — that the first blush of it is sufficient to 
 alarm and rouse me to opposition. It is proposed to stig- 
 matize a whole people as persecutors of innocence, and men 
 incapable of doing justice; yet you have not a single fact on 
 which to ground that imputation! I expected the noble 
 lord would have supported this motion by producing in- 
 stances in which officers of Government in America had been 
 prosecuted with unremitting vengeance, and brought to cruel 
 and dishonorable deaths, by the violence and injustice of 
 American juries. But he has not produced one such in- 
 stance ; and I will tell you more, sir, — he cannot produce 
 one ! The instances which have happened are directly in the 
 teeth of his proposition. Col. Preston and the soldiers who 
 shed the blood of the people were fairly tried, and fully ac- 
 quitted. It was an American jury, a New England jury, a 
 Boston jury, which tried and acquitted them. Col. Preston 
 has, under his hand, publicly declared that the inhabitants 
 of the very town in which their fellow-citizens had been sac- 
 
SELECTIONS FOK DECLAMATION. 185 
 
 r-ificed were his advocates and defenders. Is this the return 
 you make them? Is this the encouragement you give them 
 to persevere in so laudable a spirit of justice and modera- 
 tion? But the noble Lord says, "We must now show the 
 Americans that we will no longer sit quiet under their 
 insults." Sir, I am sorry to say that this is declamation 
 unbecoming the character and place of him who utters it. 
 In what moment have you been quiet? Has not your Gov- 
 ernment, for many years past, been a series of irritating and 
 offensive measures, without policy, principle or moderation? 
 Have not your troops and your ships made a vain and in- 
 sulting parade in their streets and in their harbors? Have 
 you not stimulated discontent into disaffection, and are you 
 not now goading disaffection into rebellion? Can you ex- 
 pect to be well informed when you listen only to partisans? 
 Can you expect to do justice when you will not hear the ac- 
 cused? 
 
 Let the banners be once spread in America, and you are 
 an undone people. You are urging this desperate, this de- 
 structive issue. In assenting to your late Bill, I resisted the 
 violence of America at the hazard of my popularity there. I 
 now resist your frenzy at the same risk here. I know the 
 vast superiority of your disciplined troops over the Provin- 
 cials; but beware how you supply the want of discipline by 
 desperation! What madness is it that prompts you to 
 attempt obtaining that by force which you may more cer- 
 tainly procure by requisition? The Americans may be 
 flattered into anything; but they are too much like your- 
 selves to be driven. Have some indulgence for your own 
 likeness; respect their sturdy English virtue; retract your 
 odious exertions of authority, and remember that the first 
 step towards making them contribute to your wants is to 
 reconcile them to your Government. 
 8* 
 
186 orator's manual. 
 
 20. ENMITY TOWARD GREAT BRITAIN.-i?. Choate. 
 
 Mr. President, we must distinguish a little. That there 
 exists in this country an intense sentiment of nationality; 
 a cherished energetic feeling and consciousness of our inde- 
 pendent and separate national existence; a feeling that we 
 have a transcendent destiny to fulfill, which we mean to 
 fulfill; a great work to do, which we know how to do, and 
 are able to do; a career to run, up which we hope to ascend, 
 till we stand on the steadfast and glittering summits of the 
 world; a feeling that we are surrounded and attended by a 
 noble historical group of competitors and rivals, the other 
 nations of the earth, all of whom we hope to overtake, and 
 even to distance; — such a sentiment as this exists, perhaps, 
 in the character of this people. And this I do not discour- 
 age, I do not condemn. But, sir, that among these useful 
 and beautiful sentiments, predominant among them, there 
 exists a temper of hostility toward this one particular 
 nation, to such a degree as to amount to a habit, a trait, a 
 national passion — to amount to a state of feeling which " is 
 to be regretted," and which really threatens another war — 
 this I earnestly and confidently deny. 
 
 No, sir! no, sir! We are above all this. Let the High- 
 land clansman, half naked, half civilized, half blinded by 
 the peat-smoke of his cavern, have his hereditary enemy 
 and his hereditary enmity, and keep the keen, deep and 
 precious hatred, set on fire of hell, alive if he can ; let the 
 North American Indian have his, and hand it down from 
 father to son, by Heaven knows what symbols of alligators, 
 and rattlesnakes, and war-clubs, smeared with vermilion 
 and entwined with scarlet; let such a country as Poland, — 
 cloven to the earth, the armed heel on the radiant forehead, 
 her body dead, her soul not able to die, — let her remember 
 the " wrongs of days long past "; let the lost and wandering 
 tribes of Israel remember theirs — the manliness and the 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOlf. 187 
 
 sympathy of the world may allow or pardon this to them ; — 
 but shall America, young, free, prosperous, just setting out 
 on the highway of heaven, " decorating and cheering the 
 elevated sphere she just begins to move in, glittering like 
 tlie morning star, full of life and joy," shall she be supposed 
 to be polluting and corroding her noble and happy heart, 
 by moping over old stories of stamp act, and tea tax, and 
 the firing of the Leopard upon the Chesapeake in a time of 
 peace? No, sir! no, sir! a thousand times no! Why, I 
 protest I thought all that had been settled. I thought two 
 wars had settled it all. What else was so much good blood 
 shed for, on so many more than classical fields of revolu- 
 tionary glory? For what was so much good blood more 
 lately shed, at Lundy's Lane, at Fort Erie, before and 
 behind the lines at New Orleans, on the deck of the Con- 
 stitution, on the deck of the Java, on the lakes, on the sea, 
 but to settle exactly these "wrongs of past days"? And 
 have we come back sulky and sullen from the very field of 
 honor? For my country, I deny it. 
 
 Mr. President, let me say that, in my judgment, this 
 notion of a national enmity of feeling toward Great 
 Britain belongs to a past age of our history. My younger 
 countrymen are unconscious of it. The}' disavow it. That 
 generation in whose opinions and feelings the actions and 
 the destiny of the next are unfolded, as the tree in the germ, 
 do not at all comprehend your meaning, nor your fears, nor 
 your regrets. We are born to happier feelings. We look 
 to England as we look to France. We look to them, from 
 our new world, — not unrenowned, yet a new world still, — 
 and the blood mounts to our cheeks; our eyes swim; our 
 voices are stifled with emulousness of so much glory; their 
 trophies will not let us sleep; but there is no hatred at all: 
 no hatred, — no barbarian memory of wrongs, for which 
 brave men have made the last expiation to the brave. 
 
188 orator's manual. 
 
 21. THE SOUTH DURING THE REVOLUTION. -i?o5eri! Y. Hayne, 1830. 
 
 If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President (and I 
 say it not in a boastful spirit), that m^y challenge compari- 
 sons with any other, for an uniform, zealous, ardent and 
 uncalculating devotion to the Union, that State is South 
 Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the Revolu- 
 tion, up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, 
 she has not cheerfully made, — no service she has ever hesi- 
 tated to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity, 
 but in your adversity she has clung to you with more than 
 filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her 
 domestic affairs, — though deprived of her resources, divided 
 by parties, or surrounded with difficulties, — the call of the 
 country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic dis- 
 cord ceased at the sound ; every man became at once reconciled 
 to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen 
 crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the 
 altar of their common country. 
 
 What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the 
 Revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in 
 that glorious struggle. But, great as is the praise which 
 belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the 
 South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren with 
 a generous zeal, which did not suffer them to stop to calcu- 
 late their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother 
 country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create a 
 commercial rivalship, they might have found in their situa- 
 tion a guarantee that their trade would be forever fostered 
 and protected by Great Britain. But, trampling on all 
 considerations either of interest or of safety, they rushed 
 into the conflict, and, fighting for principle, periled all in 
 the sacred cause of freedom. Never was there exhibited, in 
 the history of the world, higher examples of noble daring, 
 dreadful suffering and heroic endurance, than by the whigs 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^. 189 
 
 of Carolina during the Revolution. The whole State, from 
 the mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming 
 force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the 
 spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the 
 foe. The "plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious 
 blood of her citizens. Black and smoking ruins marked 
 the places which had been the habitations of her children! 
 Driven from their homes, into the gloomy and almost im- 
 penetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived; 
 and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumters 
 and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, that, though her soil 
 might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible. 
 
 22. SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS, 1830.— Daniel Webster. 
 
 The eulogium pronounced on the character of the State 
 of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her 
 Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concur- 
 rence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member 
 goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished 
 talent or distinguished character South Carolina has pro- 
 duced. I claim part of the honor, I partake in the pride of 
 her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. 
 The Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, 
 the Marions, — Americans, all, — whose fame is no more to be 
 hemmed in by State lines than their talents and patriotism 
 were capable of being circumscribed within the same 
 narrow limits. 
 
 Sir, I thank God that, if I am gifted with little of the 
 spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, 
 I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which 
 would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in 
 my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at pub- 
 lic merit, because it happened to spring up beyond the little 
 limits of my own State or neighborhood: when I refuse, 
 
190 orator's manual. 
 
 for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to 
 American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion 
 to liberty and the country; or, if I see an uncommon 
 endowment of Heaven, — if I see extraordinary capacity 
 and virtue in any son of the South, — and if moved by local 
 prejudice, or gangrened by State jealousy, I get up here to 
 abate the tithe of a hair from his just character and just 
 fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! Sir, 
 let me recur to pleasing recollections; let .me indulge in re- 
 freshing remembrance of the past; let me remind you that, 
 in early times, no States cherished greater harmony, both of 
 principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. 
 Would to God that harmony might again return! Shoulder 
 to shoulder they went through the Revolution; hand in hand 
 they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt 
 his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feel- 
 ing, if it exist, — alienation and distrust, — are the growth, 
 unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They 
 are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never 
 scattered. 
 
 Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa- 
 chusetts, for she needs none. There she is, — behold her, 
 and judge for yourselves. There is her history, — the world 
 knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is 
 Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill, — 
 and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, 
 fallen in the great struggle for independence, now lie min- 
 gled with the soil of every State from New England to 
 Georgia, — and there they will lie forever. And, sir, where 
 American liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth 
 was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the 
 strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If 
 discord and disunion shall wound it, — if party strife and 
 blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it, — if folly and mad- 
 ness, if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraints, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOIT. 191 
 
 shall succeed in separating it from that Union by which alone 
 its existence is made sure, — it will stand, in the end, by the 
 side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will 
 stretch forth its arm, with whatever vigor it may still retain, 
 over the friends who gather around it; and it will fall at last, 
 if fall it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own 
 glory, and on the very spot of its origin! 
 
 23. MILITARY SUPREMACY DANGEROUS TO LIBERTY.-Senn/ Clay. 
 
 Recall to your recollection the free nations which have 
 gone before us. Where are they now? 
 
 "Gone glimmering through the dream of things that were, 
 A school -boy's tale, the wonder of an hour." 
 
 And how have they lost their liberties? If we could 
 transport ourselves to the ages when Greece and Rome 
 flourished in their greatest prosperity, and, mingling in the 
 throng, should ask a Grecian if he did not fear that some dar- 
 ing military chieftain covered with glory — some Philip or 
 Alexander — would one day overthrow the liberties of his 
 country, the confident and indignant Grecian would exclaim, 
 " No ! no ! we have nothing to fear from our heroes ; our 
 liberties will be eternal." If a Roman citizen had been asked 
 if he did not fear that the conqueror of Gaul might establish 
 a throne upon the ruins of public liberty, he would have in- 
 stantly repelled the unjust insinuation. Yet Greece fell; 
 Caesar passed the Rubicon, and the patriotic arm even of 
 Brutus could not preserve the liberties of his devoted 
 country. 
 
 We are fighting a great moral battle, for the benefit, not 
 only of our country, but of all mankind. The eyes of the 
 whole world are in fixed attention upon us. One, and the 
 largest portion of it, is gazing with contempt, with jealousy, 
 and with envy; the other portion, with hope, with confidence, 
 and with affection. Everywhere the black cloud of Leo^iti- 
 
192 orator's manual. 
 
 macy is suspended over the world, save only one bright spot, 
 which breaks out from the political hemisphere of the West, 
 to enlighten, and animate, and gladden the human heart. 
 Observe that, by the downfall of liberty here, all mankind 
 are enshrouded in a pall of universal darkness. To you 
 belongs the high privilege of transmitting, unimpaired, to 
 posterity, the fair character and liberty of our country. Do 
 you expect to execute this high trust by trampling or suffer- 
 ing to be trampled down, law, justice, the Constitution, and 
 the rights of the people? by exhibiting examples of inhu- 
 manity, and cruelty, and ambition? Beware how you give a 
 fatal sanction, in this infant period of our Republic, scarcely 
 yet two-score years old, to military insubordination. Re- 
 member that Greece had her Alexander, Rome her Caesar, 
 England her Cromwell, France her Bonaparte, and that, if 
 we would escape the rock on which they split, we must avoid 
 their errors. 
 
 212. Controversial, Interrogative Style: Frequent Up- 
 ward Inflections (Predominating Terminal Stress (§ 101), becom- 
 ing', on very emphatic words of one syllable, Compound (§ 103: a; 
 §45: b,c). 
 
 24. THE EXPUNGING RESOLUTION, \%2n.— Henry Clay. 
 
 What patriotic purpose is to be accomplished by this expunging 
 resolution ? Can you make that not to be which has been ? Can you 
 eradicate from memory and from history the fact that, in March, 1834, 
 a majority | of the Senate of the United States passed the resolution 
 which excites your enmity? Is it your vain and wicked object to 
 arrogate to yourselves that power of annihilating the past which has 
 
 R c 
 been denied to Omnipotence | itself ? Do you intend to thrust your 
 Ft to br w out R C Ft w C F to br 
 
 hands into our hearts, and to pluck out | the deeply-rooted convictions 
 RCF wmRC tomsRC 
 
 which are there? Or, is it your design merely to stigmatize us? 
 
 w m s R C 
 {0 A) You cannot stigmatize ] us! 
 
 " Ne'er yet | did base dishonor blur our name." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR PECLAMATION. 193 
 
 RCFto brCF wRCtos hC 
 
 Standing securely upon our conscious rectitude, and bearing aloft the 
 
 h R c 
 shield of the Constitution of our country, your puny efforts are impo- 
 prone s h R C^ 
 
 tent, and we defy | all ' your power! 
 
 (0) But why should I detain the Senate, or needlessly waste my 
 
 breath in fruitless | exertions? The decree has g-one forth. It is one 
 
 1 L O bk L O 
 
 of iirgency, too. The deed is to be done, — that loul | deed which, 
 
 w 1 L C tr and 
 
 like the stain on the hands of the guilty Macbeth, all | ocean's | 
 to 1 s L C 
 
 waters will never wash 6ut. Proceed, then, to the noble work which 
 
 w 1 tr R O to 1 R O ^ 
 
 lies before you; and, like other skillful executioners, do it quickly. 
 
 1 f RO Is RO 1 
 
 And, when you have perpetrated it, go home to the people, and tell 
 RO m R O 1 R 
 
 them what glorious | honors | you have achieved for our common | 
 
 ^O f hRC prone 
 
 country. Tell them that you have extinguished one of the brightest 
 
 ^ f hRC 
 and purest lights that ever burnt at the altar of civil liberty. (A 0) 
 f s RC w 
 
 Tell them that you have silenced one of the noblest batteries that ever 
 
 to R C Ft on waist w to 
 
 thundered in defense of the Constitution, and that you have bravely 
 s h RC 
 spiked I the cannon. Tell them that, henceforward, no matter what 
 
 daring or outrageous act any President may perform, you have for- 
 
 fBCh fBCh 
 
 ever hermetically scaled | the mouth | of the S&nate. Tell them that 
 R or L 1 O snatcli C Ft to waist 
 
 he may fearlessly assume what power he pleases, {G 0) snatch from its 
 
 w mC to . . 
 
 lawful custody the public purse, command a military detachment to 
 
 m s C ^ 8 C pr 1 C 1 
 
 enter the halls of the Capitol, overawe Congress, trample down the 
 
 C w m C tr and to m s C w m C 
 
 Constitution, and raze every bulwark of freedom, (A 0) but that the 
 
 to br ^ C w C to 
 
 Senate must stand | mute, in silent submission, and not dare to lift 
 f »i c ^ 
 an opposing voice; that it must wait until a House of Repres^nta- 
 
 1 c ic 
 
 tives, humbled and subdued like itself, and a majority of it composed 
 
 1 B O 
 of the partisans of the President, shall prefer articles of impeachment. 
 
194 
 
 Tell them, finally, that you have restored the glorious doctrine of pas- 
 out m B C w out m s B C 
 sive ob&dience and non-resistance; and, when you have told them 
 
 w out and down B C 
 this, if (6r 0) the people do not swfeep you from your places with their 
 
 indignation, (0) I have yet to learn the character | of American | 
 
 freemen ! 
 
 25. ON THE JUDICIARY ACT, 1802— Gouverneur Morris. 
 
 What v^ill be the situation of these States, organized as 
 they now are, if, by the dissolution of our national compact, 
 they are left to themselves? What is the probable result? 
 We shall either be the victims of foreign intrigue, and, split 
 into factions, fall under the domination of a foreign power, 
 or else, after the misery and torment of a civil war, become 
 the subjects of an usurping military despot. What but this 
 compact, what but this specific part of it, can save us from 
 ruin? The judicial power, that fortress of the Constitution, 
 is now to be overturned. With honest Ajax, I would not 
 only throw a shield before it, — I would build around it a 
 wall of brass. But I am too weak to defend the rampart 
 against the host of assailants. I must call to my assistance 
 their good sense, their patriotism and their virtue. Do not, 
 gentlemen, suffer the rage of passion to drive Reason from 
 her seat! If this law be indeed bad, let us join to remedy 
 the defects. Has it been passed in a manner which wounded 
 your pride, or roused your resentment? Have, I conjure 
 you, the magnanimity to pardon that offense ! I entreat, I 
 implore you, to sacrifice these angry passions to the interests 
 of the country. Pour out this pride of opinion on the altar 
 of patriotism. Let it be an expiating libation for the weal 
 of America. Do not, for God's sake, do not suffer that pride 
 to plunge us all into the abyss of ruin ! 
 
 Indeed, indeed, it will be but of little, very little, avail, 
 whether one opinion or the other be right or wrong; it will 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 195 
 
 heal no wounds, it will pay no debts, it will rebuild no 
 ravaged towns. Do not rely on that popular will which has 
 brought us frail beings into political existence. That opinion 
 is but a changeable thing. It will soon change. This very 
 measure will change it. You will be deceived. Do not, I 
 beseech you, in a reliance on a foundation so frail, commit 
 the dignity, the harmony, the existence of our nation, to the 
 wild wind! Trust not your treasure to the waves. Throw 
 not your compass and your charts into the ocean. Do not 
 believe that its billows will waft you into port. Indeed, in- 
 deed, you will be deceived! Cast not away this only anchor 
 of our safety. I have seen its progress. I know the diffi- 
 culties through which it was obtained: I stand in the pres- 
 ence of Almighty God, and of the world, and I declare to 
 you that, if you lose this charter, never, — no, never will 
 you get another! We are now, perhaps, arrived at the part- 
 ing point. Here, even here, we stand on the brink of fate 
 Pause — pause! — for heaven's sake, pause! 
 
 26. AGAINST THE EMBARGO, 1808.— Josiah Quincy. 
 
 I ask, in what page of the Constitution you find the power 
 of laying an embargo. Directly given, it is nowhere. Never 
 before did society witness a total prohibition of all inter- 
 course like this, in a commercial nation. But it has been 
 asked in debate, "Will not Massachusetts, the cradle of lib- 
 erty, submit to such privations? " An embargo liberty was 
 never cradled in Massachusetts. Our liberty was not so 
 much a mountain nymph as a sea nymph. She was free as 
 air. She could swim, or she could run. The ocean was her 
 cradle. Our fathers met her as she came, like the goddess of 
 beauty, from the waves. They caught her as she was sport- 
 ing on the beach. They courted her while she was spreading 
 her nets upon the rocks. But an embargo liberty, a hand- 
 cuffed liberty, liberty in fetters, a liberty traversing between 
 
196 orator's MAInTUAL. 
 
 the four sides of a prison and beating her head against the 
 walls, is none of our offspring. We abjure the monster! Its 
 parentage is all inland. 
 
 Is embargo independence? Deceive not yourselves! It 
 is palpable submission ! Gentlemen exclaim, " Great Britain 
 smites us on one cheek! " And what does Administration? 
 "It turns the other, also." Gentlemen say, "Great Britain 
 is a robber; she takes our cloak." And what says Adminis- 
 tration? "Let her take our coat, also." France and Great 
 Britain require you to relinquish a part of your conimerce, 
 and you yield it entirely! At every corner of this great city 
 we meet some gentlemen of the majority wringing their 
 hands and exclaiming, "What shall we do? Nothing but 
 an embargo will save us. Remove it and what shall we do? " 
 Sir, it is not for me, an humble and uninfluential individual, 
 at an awful distance from the predominant influences, to 
 suggest plans of government. But, to my eye, the path of 
 our duty is as distinct as the Milky Way, — all studded with 
 living sapphires, glowing with cumulating light. It is the 
 path of active preparation, of dignified energy. It is the 
 path of 1776! It consists not in abandoning our rights, but 
 in supporting them, as they exist, and where they exist, — 
 on the ocean as well as on the land. But I shall be told, 
 "This may lead to war." I ask, "Are we now at peace?" 
 Certainly not, unless retiring from insult be peace; unless 
 shrinking under the lash be peace! The surest way to pre- 
 vent war is not to fear it. The idea that nothing on earth is 
 so dreadful as war is inculcated too studiously among us. 
 Disgrace is worse! Abandonment of essential rights is 
 worse ! 
 
 27. CICERO AGAINST VERRES.-1/arcws Tullius Cicero, 
 
 I ask now, Verres, what you have to advance against 
 this charge. Will you pretend to deny it? Will you pre- 
 tend that anything false, that even anything aggravated, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 197 
 
 is alleged against you? Had any prince, or any state, 
 committed the same outrage against the privilege of Roman 
 citizens, should we not think we had sufficient ground for 
 declaring immediate war against them? What punishment 
 ought, then, to be inflicted upon a tyrannical and wicked 
 prsetor, who dared, at no greater distance than Sicily, with- 
 in sight of the Italian coast, to put to the infamous death 
 of crucifixion that unfortunate and innocent citizen, Pub- 
 lius Gavius Cosanus, only for his having asserted his privi- 
 lege of citizenship, and declared his intention of appealing 
 to the justice of his country against a cruel oppressor who 
 had unjustly confined him in prison at Syracuse, whence he 
 had just made his escape? 
 
 The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to embark 
 for his native country, is brought before the wicked praetor. 
 With eyes darting fury, and a countenance distorted with 
 cruelty, he orders the helpless victim of his rage to be 
 stripped, and rods to be brought; accusing him, but without 
 the least shadow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of having 
 come to Sicily as a spy. It was in vain that the unhappy 
 man cried out, " I am a Roman citizen: I have served under 
 Lucius Pretius, who is now at Panormus and will attest my 
 innocence." 
 
 The blood-thirsty praetor, deaf to all he could urge in 
 his own defense, ordered the infamous punishment to be 
 inflicted. Thus, Fathers, was an innocent Roman citizen 
 publicly mangled with scourging; while the only words he 
 uttered amid his cruel suff'erings were, " I am a Roman citi- 
 zen!" With these he hoped to defend himself from violence 
 and infamy. But of so little service was this privileg3 to 
 him, that, while he was thus asserting his citizenship, the 
 order was given for his execution, — for his execution upon 
 the cross! 
 
 liberty! sound once delightful to every Roman ear! 
 sacred privilege of Roman citizenship! — once sacred! 
 
198 
 
 now trampled upon! But what then! — Is it come to this? 
 Shall an inferior magistrate, a governor, who holds his 
 whole power of the Roman people, in a Roman province, 
 within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and 
 red-hot plates of iron, and at last put to the infamous death 
 of the cross, a Roman citizen? Shall neither the cries of 
 innocence expiring in agony, nor the tears of pitying spec- 
 tators, nor the majesty of the Roman = Commonwealth, nor 
 the fear of the justice of his country, restrain the licentious 
 and wanton cruelty of a monster who, in confidence of his 
 riches, strikes at the root of liberty and sets mankind at 
 defiance? 
 
 I conclude with expressing my hopes that your wisdom 
 and justice. Fathers, will not, by suffering the atrocious and 
 unexampled insolence of Caius Verres to escape the due 
 punishment, leave room to apprehend the danger of a total 
 subversion of authority and the introduction of general an- 
 archy and confusion. 
 
 28. BRITISH INFLUENCE, 1811.-John Randolph. 
 
 Imputations of British | influence have been uttered against the 
 opponents of this w^r. Against whom are these charges brought? 
 Against men who, in the war of the Revolution, were in the Coun- 
 
 w 1 RO 
 
 oils of the nation, or fighting the battles of your country! And by 
 
 1 R O w to 1 s 
 
 whom are these charges made? By runaways, chiefly from the 
 
 R O ^ 
 British dominions, since the breaking out of the French troubles. 
 
 w to 1 L O 
 
 The great autocrat of all the Riissias receives the homage of our 
 1 LO w to 1 RO 1 RO 
 
 high consideration. The Day of Algiers and his divan of pirates are 
 
 1 RO 1 RO down 
 very civil, good sort of people, with whom we find no difficulty in 
 
 1 f LO f LO 1 
 maintaining the relations of peace and amity. "Turks, Jews and 
 fLO wto Is LOlsLOl 
 
 Infidels," or the barbarians and savages of every clime and color, are 
 f LOlfsLO IfBO wider B O wider B O down 
 
 welcome to our arms. With chiefs of banditti, negro or mulatto, we 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 199 
 
 1 ^ BO w R C 
 
 can treat, and can trade. Name, however, but England, and all our 
 
 to br and to m s R C w tr turn to R O w 
 
 antipathies are up m arms against her. Against whom? Against 
 tr to br R C F br R C F 
 
 those whose blood runs in our | veins; in common with whom we 
 
 /RO IR 1s RO IRO 
 
 claim Shakspeare, and Newton, and Chtltham, for our countrymen; 
 
 w ) L O L C Ft on waist and 
 
 whose government | is the freest on earth, our own only | excepted; 
 
 , hold 
 from I whom every val liable principle of our own institutions has 
 
 1 LO 
 been borrowed — representation, trial by jury, voting the supplies, 
 1 B O m B O w 
 
 writ of habeas corpus — our whole civil and criminal jurisprudence; 
 br B C to f B C 
 
 — against our fellow-Protestants, identified in blood, in language, in 
 
 1 BO 
 religion, with ourst^lves. 
 
 In what school did the worthies of our land — the Washingtons, 
 
 1 f R o 
 Henrys, Hancocks, Franklins, Rutledges, of America — learn those 
 
 w to 1 s R 
 
 principles of civil liberty which were so nobly asserted by their wis- 
 o 
 dom and vS-lor? American resistance to British usurpation has not 
 
 been more warmly | cherished by these great men and their com- 
 
 IfLOlfLOl fLO 1 
 
 patriots, — not more by Washington, Hancock and Henry, — than by 
 
 sLO IsLO 
 
 Chatham and his illustrious associates in the British Parliament. It 
 R C F on br 1 
 
 ought to be remembered, too, that the h^art of the English people 
 
 R o 
 was with us. It was a selfish and corrupt ministry, and their servile 
 
 1 f RO s R O 
 
 tools, to whom we were not more opposed than they were. I trust 
 
 1 f BO 1 s 
 
 that none such may ever exist among us; for tools will n^ver be 
 
 B C 
 
 w^anting to subserve the purposes, however rumous or wicked, of 
 
 kings and ministers of state. I acknowledge the influence of a 
 
 Shakspeare and a Milton upon my imS,gination ; of a Locke upon 
 
 1 f RO ^ 1 f s 
 
 my understanding; of a Sidney upon my political principles; of a 
 R O h R O 1 R 
 
 Chatham upon qualities which [ would to God | I possessed in com- 
 
200 orator's manual. 
 
 O IfRO IfsROlsR 
 
 mon with that ilhistrious man! of a Tillotson, a Sherlock and a P6r- 
 
 OwtobrRCFwtoRO IBC 
 
 tens upon my religion. This is a British influence which I can never | 
 
 shake | off. 
 
 29. IRISH AGITATORS, 18M. —Hichard L. Shell. 
 
 The population of Ireland has doubled since the Union. 
 What is the condition of the mass of the people? Has her 
 capital increased in the same proportion? Behold the fam- 
 ine, the wretchedness and pestilence of the Irish hovel, and 
 if you have the heart to do so, mock at the calamities of 
 the country, and proceed in your demonstrations of the 
 prosperity of Ireland. The mass of the people are in a con- 
 dition more v^^retched thaii that of any nation in Europe; 
 they are worse housed, worse covered, worse fed, than the 
 basest boors in the provinces of Russia; they dwell in hab- 
 itations to which your swine would not be committed; they 
 are covered with rags which your beggars would disdain to 
 wear, and not only do they never taste the flesh of the anir 
 mals which crowd into your markets, but while the sweat 
 drops from their brows, they never touch the bread into 
 which their harvests are converted. For you they toil, for 
 you they delve; they reclaim the bog, and drive the plow to 
 the mountain's top, for you. And where does all this mis- 
 ery exist? In a country teeming with fertility, and stamped 
 with the beneficent intents of God! When the famine of 
 Ireland prevailed, — when her cries crossed the Channel, and 
 pierced your ears and reached your hearts, — the granaries 
 of Ireland were bursting with their contents; and while a 
 people knelt down and stretched out their hands for food, 
 the business of deportation, the absentee tribute, was going 
 on 1 Talk of the prosperity of Ireland ! Talk of the external 
 magnificence of a poor-house, gorged wdth misery within! 
 
 But the Secretary for the Treasury exclaims: "If the 
 agitators would but let us alone, and allow Ireland to be 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 201 
 
 tranquil!'' The agitators, forsooth I Does he venture — has 
 he the intrepidity — to speak thus? Agitators! Against 
 deep potations let the drunkard rail; — at Crockford's let 
 there be homilies against the dice-box; — let every libertine 
 lament the progress of licentiousness, when his Majesty's 
 ministers deplore the influence of demagogues, and whigs 
 complain of agitation! How did you carry the Reform? 
 Was it not by impelling the people almost to the verge of 
 revolution? Was there a stimulant for their passions, was 
 there a provocative for their excitement, to which you did 
 not resort? If you have forgotten, do you think that we 
 shall fail to remember, your meetings at Edinburgh, at 
 Paisley, at Manchester, at Birmingham? Did not three 
 hundred thousand men assemble? Did they not pass reso- 
 lutions against taxes? Did they not threaten to march on 
 London? Did not two of the cabinet ministers indite to 
 them epistles of gratitude and of admiration? and do they 
 now dare — have the}^ the audacity — to speak of agitation? 
 Have we not as good a title to demand the restitution of 
 our Parliament, as the ministers to insist on the reform of 
 this House? 
 
 30. MILITARY QUALIFICATIONS DISTINCT FROM CIVIL, 1828. 
 
 It has been maintained that the genius which constitutes 
 a great military man is a very high quality, and may be 
 equally useful in the cabinet and in the field, — that it has 
 a sort of universality ec[ually applicable to all affairs. That 
 the greatest civil qualifications may be found united with 
 the highest military talents is what no one will deny who 
 thinks of Washington. But that such a combination is rare 
 and extraordinary, the fame of Washington sufficiently at- 
 tests. If it were common, wlw was he so illustrious? 
 
 I would ask, what did Cromwell, with all his military 
 genius, do for England? He overthrew the monarchy and 
 
202 orator's manual. 
 
 he established dictatorial power in his own person. And 
 what happened next? Another soldier overthrew the dic- 
 tatorship and restored the monarchy. The sword effected 
 both. Cromwell made one revolution, and Monk another. 
 And what did the people of England gain by it? Nothing. 
 Absolutely nothing! The rights and liberties of Englishmen, 
 as they now exist, were settled and established at the Revo- 
 lution in 1688. Now, mark the difference! By whom was 
 that revolution begun and conducted? Was it by soldiers? 
 by military genius? by the sword? No! It was the work 
 of statesmen and of eminent lawyers, — men never distin- 
 guished for military exploits. The faculty — the dormant 
 faculty — may have existed. That is what no one can affirm 
 or deny. But it would have been thought an absurd and 
 extravagant thing to propose, in reliance upon this possible 
 dormant faculty, that one of those eminent statesmen and 
 lawyers should be sent, instead of the Duke of Marlborough, 
 to command the English forces on the continent! 
 
 Who achieved the freedom and the independence of this 
 our own country? Washington effected much in the field; 
 but where were the Franklins, the Adamses, the Hancocks, 
 the Jeffersons, and the Lees, — the band of sages and patri- 
 ots whose memory we revere? They were assembled in 
 council. The heart of the Revolution beat in the halls of 
 Congress. There was the power which, beginning with ap- 
 peals to the king and to the British nation, at length made 
 an irresistible appeal to the world, and consummated the 
 Revolution by the declaration of independence, which Wash- 
 ington established with their authority, and bearing their 
 commission, supported by arms. And what has this band of 
 patriots, of sages and of statesmen given to us? Not what 
 Caesar gave to Rome; not what Cromwell gave to England, 
 or Napoleon to France: they established for us the great 
 principles of civil, political and religious liberty, upon the 
 strong foundations on which the^^ have hitherto stood. There 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOl^-. 203 
 
 may have been military capacity in Congress ; but can any 
 one deny that it is to the wisdom of sages, — Washington 
 being one, — we are indebted for the signal blessings we 
 enjoy? 
 
 213. Antithetical and Ironical: Circumflex Inflections. 
 
 Predominating Compound Stress (§ 103) on emphatic syllables. 
 
 31. THE RIGHT TO TAX AKBBICA.-Edmund Burke. 
 
 1. **But, Mr. Speaker, we have a right to tax America." Oh, 
 
 inestimable right! Oh, wonderful, transcendent right! the assertion 
 
 of which has cost this country thirteen | provinces, six | islands, one 
 
 1 
 hundred | thousand 1 lives, and seventy | milhons | of money! Oh, 
 
 R O w R C tr to br 
 
 invaluable right! for the sake of which we have sacrificed our rank | 
 RC wRCtomsRC w trtof 
 
 among nations, | our importance | abroad, | and our happiness | at 
 
 R O 1 R O 
 
 home! Oh, right, more dear to us than our existence, | which has 
 
 1 
 already cost us so | much, | and which seems | likely | to cost us our 
 
 BO ^ , If 
 
 all! Infatuated | m^n! miserable | and undone | country! not to 
 
 ROF 1 f O F w 1 8 R C 
 
 know that the claim of right, without the power | of enforcing it, | 
 
 sRC s RC wRCFtto waist 
 
 is nugatory | and idle. We have a right to tax America, the noble 
 
 1 R O 
 lord tells us, therefore we ought to tax America. This is the pro- 
 
 1 BO 1 BO 
 
 found I logic I which comprises the whole | chain | of his reasoning. 
 
 2. Not inferior to this | was the wisdom of him [ who resolved 
 
 wl RO R O 
 
 to shear | the wolf. What, shear a wolf! Have you considered the 
 
 w 1 s L c 
 resistance, | the difficulty, | the danger, | of the attempt? No, says 
 
 w tr to L C Ft on waist 
 the madman, I have considered nothing but the right. Man has a 
 
 1 L O 1 L O 
 
 right of dominion over the beasts of the forest; and, th&refore, I will 
 1 BO w h B C tr and to h B C 
 
 shear the wolf. How wonderful that a nation could be thus deluded! 
 
 But the noble lord dfeals in cheats and delusions. They are the daily | 
 
 traffic of iiis invention; and he will continue to play off his cheats 
 
204 orator's manual. 
 
 1 R O 
 on this house, so long as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, 
 
 1 R O snatch to waist 
 
 and so long- as he has money enough at command to bribe | gentle- 
 
 1 R O f R O slowly 
 
 men to prwtend | that they believe him. But a black | and bitter 
 
 lift h C _ ^ shake h C 
 
 day of reckoning | will surely come; and whenever that day comes, 
 
 I trust I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment, to bring 
 h C ^ pr m C 
 
 upon the heads of the authors of our calamities the punishment they 
 deserve. 
 
 32. THE PARTITION OF POLAND, im^.— Charles J. Fox. 
 
 Now, sir, what was the conduct of your own allies to Poland? 
 Is there a single | atrocity | of the French in Italy, in Switzerland, 
 in Egypt, if you please, more unprincipled and inhuman than that 
 of Russia, Austria, and Prussia, in Poland? What has there been 
 
 1 w R O 1 R O 
 
 in the conduct of the French to foreign powers; what in the viola- 
 
 IfROF IfROFw IRC wl 
 
 tion of solemn | treaties; what in the plunder, devastation, and dis- 
 s R C ^ 1 f R OF 1 f 
 
 m^mberment of unoffending countries; what in the horrors and 
 ROFwRCto 
 murders perpetrated upon the subdued victims of their rage in ^ny 
 
 m s C s C and down 
 
 district which they have overrim, — w6rse than the conduct of those 
 
 three | great | powers in the miserable, devoted, and trampled-on 
 
 1 BO 
 
 Kingdom of Poland, and who have been, or are, our | allies in this 
 
 war for religion, social | order, and the rights of nations? 6, but 
 w L C back w L C back 
 
 you "regretted the partition of Poland!" Yes, regretted! — you 
 
 1 L O w back L C 1 f B O 
 
 i;egretted the violence, and that is all you did. You united your- 
 
 1 s BO ^ 1 BO 
 
 selves with the Actors ; you, in fact, by your acquiescence, confirmed 
 1 B O exaggerated B O wide 
 
 the atrocity. But thev are your allies; and though they overran and 
 
 ROwmtrRCtos RC ^ ms^RC 
 
 divided Poland, there was nothing, perhaps, in the manner of doing 
 
 m s prone R C and down 
 
 it which stamped it with peculiar infamy and disgrace. The hero 
 
 of Poland, perhaps, was merciful and mild! He was "as much 
 
 1 L O w tr and to s m 
 
 luperior to Bonaparte in bravery, and in the disciphne which he 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 205 
 
 L C ^ w tr and to m s L C down 
 
 maintained, as he was superior in virtue and humanity! He was 
 
 w to br ^ ^ R C ^ 
 
 animated by the piirest principles of Christianity, and was restrained 
 
 1 R O exaggerated R O 
 in his career by the benevolent precepts which it inciilcates! " Was 
 he? 
 
 m s L C F ^ . ^ ^^ ^"^ 
 
 Let unfortunate Warsaw, and the miserable inhabitants of the 
 to s L F down 
 
 suburb of Priig-a in particular, | t^U ! What do we understand to 
 
 have been the conduct of this magnanimous h^ro, with whom, it 
 1 f R O 1 s R O 
 
 seems, Bonaparte is not to be compared? (fast) He entered the 
 
 m s C w m 
 
 Gu^burb of Praga, the most populous suburb of Warsaw, and there 
 
 tr C and to msCsC sC 
 
 he let his soldiery loose on the miserable, unarmed and unresisting 
 
 hsChsC hsCwtr to brC 
 
 people! Men, women and children, — nay, infants at the breast, — 
 
 w to m s C 
 
 were doomed to one | indiscriminate | massacre! Thousands of them 
 
 B O Ft w 1 B O 
 
 were inhumanly, wantonly butchered! And (slow) for what? Be- 
 cause they had dared | to join in a wish | to meliorate their own con- 
 dition as a People, and to improve their Constitution, which had 
 
 m L O m L O 1 L O 
 
 been confessed, by their own | sovereign, to be m want of am^nd- 
 1 L O w tr to br B C and 
 
 ment. And such is the hero upon whom the cause of " religion and 
 
 to _ m B C prone 1 B O 
 social order" is to repose! And such is the man whom we praise 
 
 for his discipline and his virtue, and whom we hold out as our boast 
 
 1 R O w R C 
 
 and our dependence; while the conduct of Bonaparte unfits him to 
 be even treated with as an ^nemy! 
 
 33. CATILINE TO THE GALLIC C0NSPIRAT0RS.-i?6U. George Croly. 
 
 Men of Gaul! 
 What would you give for Freedom? — 
 wmtrRCtofmRC 
 For Freedom, | if it stood before your ^yes; 
 
 w m R C to waist C Ft 
 For Freedom, | if it rushed to your embrace; 
 
 w R C Ft to s C Ft ^ 
 For Freedom, ] if its sword were ready drawn 
 
206 orator's majs^ual. 
 
 w turn to IRQ 
 To hew your chains off? 
 
 Ye would give death | or life ! Then marvel not 
 
 If ,L0 1 s f LO 
 
 That I am here — that Catiline would join you! — 
 
 w 1 s L O bk R O 
 
 The great Patrician ? — Yes — an hour ago — 
 
 w to R C Ft on waist w to m f R C 
 But now 1 the r^bel; Rome's eternal foe, 
 
 1 L O 1 LO 
 
 And your | sworn | friend! My desperate wrong's my pledge 
 
 There's not in Rome, — no — not upon the earth, 
 
 BO w 1 B C tr to 1 B 
 
 A man so wronged. The very ground I tread 
 1 B C Ft crossed w 1 BO 
 Is grudged me. — Chieftains! ere the moon be down, 
 
 R O 
 
 My land will be the Senate's | spoil; my life, 
 
 w tr to R C Ft on waist 
 
 The mark of the first villain that will stab 
 
 w to h C F and shake h R C 
 
 For lucre. — But there's a time at hand! — Gaze on! 
 
 If I had thought you cowards, I might have come 
 
 s LO f 
 
 And told you lies. But you have now the thing 
 LO 1 L OFt 1 O Ft 
 
 I am; — Rome's fenemy, — and fixed | as f^te | 
 
 ILO sLO 
 
 To you I and yours | forever! 
 
 The State I is weak as dust. 
 
 lift 
 Rome's | broken, | helpless, | heart-sick. Vengeance sits 
 
 h R c 
 
 Above her, like a viilture | o'er a corpse, 
 
 down to 1 R C ^ w 1 tr R C ^ 
 
 Soon to be tasted. Time, and dull decay, 
 
 to Is RC ^ 
 
 Have let the waters round her pillar's foot; 
 
 IRC h s RC 
 
 And it must | fall. Her boasted strength's | a ghost, 
 
 1 s R C w to C Ft on waist 
 
 Fearful to dastards; — yet, to trenchant swords, 
 
 w to h f RC 
 Thin as the passing air! A single | blow. 
 
 In this diseased and crumbling state of Rome, 
 
 w tr B C to 1 bk B C 
 Would break your chains like stubble. 
 But "ye've | no | swords "! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 207 
 
 f R O f sR O 
 
 Have you no ploughshares, | scythes ? 
 
 w tr R C Ft to waist 1 f R O 1 s R O 
 When men are brave, the sickle is a spear! 
 si w m R C tr slowly 
 
 Must Freedom | pine || till the slow || armorer II 
 
 toward br w slowly to 
 
 Gilds ( her caparison. | and sends her out 1 1 
 
 m s R C lift to li C 
 
 To glitter || and play | antics | in the siin? 
 
 wtobrRCF wtomfRC prone 
 
 Let hearts be what they ought, — the naked earth 
 
 w to s R C prone s R C up 
 
 Will be their magazine ; — the rocks — the trees — 
 
 1 bk C down 
 
 Nay, there 's no | idle and unnoted thing, 
 
 f R O thrust f R C 
 
 But, in the hand of Valor, | will out-thrust | 
 w m R C m C prone 
 
 The sp&ar, and make the mail | a mockery ! 
 
 34. CATILINE -S DEFIANCE.— 5ey. Gewge Croly, 
 
 (p P) Conscript Fathers, 
 
 I do not rise to waste the night in words; 
 
 w 1 sRO IRQ O 
 
 Let that plebeian talk; 'tis not my || tride; 
 
 IRQ w s R O 
 
 (/ 0) But here I stand for right — let him show proofs -~ 
 
 1 R O 
 (A) For Roman right; though none, it seems, dare stand 
 1 BO m f BO 
 
 To take their share with me. Ay, cluster there! 
 m f B C 
 (G) Cling to your master! || Judges, | Romans, | slaves — 
 
 f m E C m E O 
 
 (ff) His charge is false; I dare him to his proofs. 
 
 1 bk BO 
 (/ O) You have my answer. Let my actions | speak! 
 
 (p) But this I will avow, that I have scorned, 
 
 br R C F 
 And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong! 
 
 Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, 
 
 Or lays the bloody scoiirge upon my back, 
 
 wmsRC wtrCtomsC 
 
 Wrongs me not half so much as he who shuts 
 w m tr C 
 {/A) The gates of honor on me — turning out 
 
208 orator's manual. 
 
 to m s C 
 
 The Roman from his birthright; and, | for [ wh§.ty 
 1 L O 
 
 iff ^) To fling- your offices to every slave! — 
 
 L O lift sLC to ^ ^ hsLC 
 
 Vipers | that creep where men | disdain | to climb, 
 hold 
 And, having" wound their loathsome track to the top 
 
 Of this huge, | mouldering | monument | of Rome, 
 shake h L C drop L C 
 
 {A G) Hang | hissmg at the n6bler man | below! 
 
 w bkRC 
 (/ A 0) Banished from Rome! What's banished but set free 
 
 m f RC 
 
 iff G) From daily contact with the things I loathe ? 
 
 1 RO Rp 
 
 {f A 0) "Tried and convicted | traitor! " Who | says | this? 
 
 1 R O snatch to Ft on waist and hold 
 {ff G^ Who'll prove it, | at his peril, | on my head? 
 
 w 1 R O w 1 s R C 
 
 {/ A 0) Banished! I thank you for't. It breaks my chain ! 
 
 (jo) I held some slack allegiance till this hour; 
 
 IRQ IRQ wfmRC 
 
 (/) But now I my sword's | my own. Smile on, my lords! 
 
 w tr R C to br C F br C F 
 
 {ff) I scorn to count what feelings, withered | hopes, 
 
 br C F br C F 
 
 {A G) Strong | provocations, | bitter, j biarning | wrongs, 
 
 br C F 
 
 {p A) I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 
 
 w br C to m f s R ^ C _ 
 (/) To leave you in your lazy | dignities. 
 
 w m R C tr to m f C w m R C tr 
 
 (ff A G) But here I stand and scoff you ! here, I fling 
 to m f R C and drop 
 Hatred and full defiance in your face ! 
 
 w 1 BO 
 {p sl A 0) Your consul's | merciful — for this | all | thanks: 
 1 E O Ft 1 E O 
 
 (/) He dares not | touch | a hair | of Catiline ! 
 
 1 f BO wide BO 
 {AG) " Traitor ! " I go ; but 1 1 1 1 1 return. This 1 1 trial ? 
 
 1 B O 
 
 {ff) Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs 
 
 br R C F 
 
 (G ) To stir a fever in the blood of age, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOl^. 209 
 
 IRQ 1 R OFt 1 R OFt 
 
 Or make the infant's | sinews | strong- | as steel. 
 1 R O down 
 (/) This day's | the birth of sorrow ! This hour's work 
 
 1 B O ^ s R C F 
 
 (A) Will breed proscriptions! Look to your hearths, my 
 
 lords ! 
 s R C F 
 iff A 0) For there, henceforth, shall sit, | for household gods, | 
 change to sRCh sCh s^Ch 
 
 Shapes | hot from Tartarus! — all shames | and crimes! 
 s C h w tr to R C Ft on waist and 1 R O 
 Wan Tr&achery, | with his thirsty | dagger | drawn ; | 
 1 R O change to 1 f R C pr 
 Suspicion, | poisoning- his brother's cup; | 
 slowly lift E C 
 
 Naked Rebellion, | with the torch and axe, j 
 
 h R C f 
 Making- his wild | sport | of your blazing ] thrones; 
 
 h B C f drop to m B C pr 
 Till anarchy | come down on you | like night, | 
 
 h B C f drop to 1 B C 
 
 And massacre li seal | Rome's || eternal || gr^ve! 
 
 35. REPLY TO MR. CO'KRY .—Henry Gi^attan. 
 
 Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? He 
 was unparliamentary from the beginning to the end of his 
 speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not a 
 violation of the privileges of the House. But I did not call 
 him to order, — why? because the limited talents of some 
 men render it impossible for them to be severe witJiout 
 being unparliamentary. But before I sit down I shall 
 show him how to be severe and parliamentary at the same 
 time. 
 
 The right honorable gentleman has called me " an unim- 
 peached traitor." I ask why not " traitor," unqualified by 
 any epithet? I will tell him: it was because he durst not. 
 It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but 
 has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him vil- 
 lain, because it would be unparliamentar}^, and he is a privy 
 counselor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to 
 9* 
 
210 orator's manual. 
 
 be chancellor of the exchequer. But I say, he is one who has 
 abused the privilege of Parliament and the freedom of de- 
 bate, by uttering language which, if spoken out of the 
 House, I should answer only with a hloiv. I care not how 
 high his situation, how low his character, how contemptible 
 his speech ; whether a privy counselor or a parasite, my an- 
 swer would be a blow. 
 
 He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. 
 The charge is utterly, totally and meanly false. Does the 
 honorable gentleman rely on the report of the House of 
 Lords for the foundation of his assertion? If he does, I can 
 prove to the committee there was a physical impossibility of 
 that report being true. 
 
 I have returned, — not as the right honorable member 
 has said, to raise another storm, — I have returned to dis- 
 charge an honorable debt of gratitude to my country, that 
 conferred a great reward for past services, which, I am 
 proud to say, was not greater than my desert. I have re- 
 turned to protect that Constitution of which I was the par- 
 ent and founder from the assassination of such men as the 
 right honorable gentleman and his unworthy associates. 
 They are corrupt, they are seditious, and they, at this very 
 moment, are in a conspiracy against their country. I have 
 returned to refute a libel, as false as it is malicious, given 
 to the public under the appellation of a report of .the com- 
 mittee of the Lords. Here I stand, ready for impeachment 
 or trial. I dare accusation. I defy the honorable gentle- 
 man; I defy the government; I defy their whole phalanx; 
 let them come forth. I tell the ministers I will neither 
 give quarter nor take it. I am here to lay the shattered 
 remains of my constitution on the floor of this House in 
 defense of the liberties of my country. 
 
SELECTION'S iOR DECLAMATIOJS^. 211 
 
 Simple Antithesis (§ 72). 
 
 36. OUR RELATIONS TO ENGLAND, 182i.— Edward Everett. 
 
 Who does not feel, what reflecting American does not 
 acknowledge, the incalculable advantages derived by this 
 land out of the deep fountains of civil, intellectual and 
 moral truth, from which we have drawn in England? What 
 American does not feel proud that his fathers were the 
 countrymen of Bacon, of Newton, and of Locke? Who does 
 not know that, while every pulse of civil liberty in the heart 
 of the British empire beat warm and full in the bosom of our 
 ancestors, the sobriety, the firmness, and the dignity, with 
 which the cause of free principles struggled into existence 
 here, constantly found encouragement and countenance from 
 the friends of liberty there? Who does not remember that, 
 when the Pilgrims went over the sea, the prayers of the 
 faithful British confessors, in all the quarters of their dis- 
 persion, went over with them, while their aching eyes were 
 strained till the star of hope should go up in the western 
 skies? And who will ever forget that, in that eventful 
 struggle which severed these youthful republics from the 
 British crown, there was not heard, throughout our con- 
 tinent in arms, a voice which spoke louder for the rights of 
 America than that of Burke, or of Chatham, within the 
 walls of the British Parliament, and at the foot of the 
 British throne? 
 
 I am not — I need not say I am not — the panegyrist of 
 England. I am not dazzled by her riches, nor awed by her 
 power. The sceptre, the mitre, and the coronet, — stars, 
 garters, and blue ribbons, — seem to me poor things for 
 great men to contend for. Nor is my admiration awakened 
 by her armies, mustered for the battles of Europe; her 
 navies, overshadowing the ocean;, nor her empire, grasping 
 the farthest East. It is these, and the price of guilt and 
 blood by which they are too often maintained, which are 
 
212 orator's manual. 
 
 the cause why no friend of liberty can salute her with 
 undivided affections. But it is the cradle and the refuge of 
 free principles, though often persecuted; the school of reli- 
 gious liberty, the more precious for the struggles through 
 which it has passed; the tombs of those who have reflected 
 honor on all who speak the English tongue; it is the birth- 
 place of our fathers, the home of the Pilgrims; — it is these 
 which I love and venerate in England. I should feel 
 ashamed of an enthusiasm for Italy and Greece, did I not 
 also feel it for a land like this. In an American, it would 
 seem to me degenerate and ungrateful to hang with passion 
 upon the traces of Homer and Virgil, and follow, without 
 emotion, the nearer and plainer footsteps of Shakspeare and 
 Milton. I should think him cold in his love for his native 
 land who felt no melting in his heart for that other native 
 country which holds the ashes of his forefathers. 
 
 37. ROLLA'S ADDRESS TO THE PERUVIANS.— i?. B. Sheridan. 
 
 My brave associates, — partners of my toil, my feelings, and my 
 
 fame! — can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous energies which 
 
 1 sRO If.RO wsRC 
 
 inspire your hearts? No! You have judged, as I have, the foui- 
 
 w s RC 
 ness of the crafty pl^a by which these bold invaders would delude 
 
 you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives 
 
 1 s L Olf LOlsLO 
 
 which in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours. They, 
 m s L O 1 L OFt w 1 L C to 
 
 by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended 
 side 1 R O 1 s R O 1 RO 
 
 rule: we, for our country, our altars, and our homes. They follow 
 w msLC msLC 
 
 an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate: 
 
 1 R O hRO^ 
 
 we serve a monarch whom we love — a God whom we adore. When- 
 w s L C to waist w s L C tr L 
 
 e'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress! Whene'er 
 
 C to br L C w to m s C ^ 
 
 they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship. They boast 
 f BO wide BO w B C 
 
 they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 213 
 
 to s B C exaggerated m B O 
 
 from the yoke of ferror! Yes; they will give enlightened freedom to 
 mBO 1 BC brRC 
 
 oar minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and 
 
 F w E, C to m C pr lift to h O 
 
 pride ! They offer us their protection : yes, such protection as vultures 
 
 h R C shake h R C 1 R C 
 
 g-ive to Jambs — covering and devouring them! They call on us 
 
 w 1 B C back 
 
 to barter all of good we have enhanced and proved, for the desperate 
 
 1 B O 1 BO 
 
 chance of something better which they | promise. Be our plain 
 
 f RO Is R O _ 
 
 answer this: — The throne we honor is the people's | choice; the 
 s R O s and back R O . ^ 
 
 laws we reverence are our brave | fathers' legacy; the faith we follow 
 
 to 1 f R O s R O 
 
 teaches us to live | in bonds of charity with all | mankind, and die | 
 
 b R C F _ 1 R O^ 
 
 with hope of bliss | beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this; and 
 w m JBC ^ 1 B C 1 
 
 tell them, too, we seek no change, — and, least of all, such change as 
 B O 
 they would bring us ! 
 
 38. CJESAR PASSING THE RUBICON.-J". ^S'. Knowles. 
 
 A gentlemen, speaking of Caesar's benevolent disposition, 
 and of the reluctance with which he entered into the civil 
 war, observes, " How long did he pause upon the brink of the 
 Rubicon? " How came he to the brink of that river? How 
 dared he cross it? Shall a private man respect the bounda- 
 ries of private property, and shall a man pay no respect to the 
 boundaries of his country's rights? How dared he cross that 
 river ? — Oh ! but he pa^used upon the brink. He should have 
 perished on the brink, ere he had crossed it! Why did he 
 pause? — Why does a man's heart palpitate when he is on the 
 point of committing an unlawful deed? Why does the very 
 murderer, his victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye 
 taking the measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal 
 part? Because of conscience! 'T was that made Csesar 
 pause upon the brink of the Rubicon ! — Compassion ! What 
 compassion? The compassion of an assassin, that feels a 
 
214 orator's manual. 
 
 momentary shudder, as his weapon begins to cut! — Caesar 
 paused upon the brink of the Rubicon ! What was the Rubi- 
 con? The boundary of Caesar's province. From what did it 
 separate his province ? From his country. Was that country 
 a desert? No; it was cultivated and fertile, rich and popu- 
 lous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and generosity! 
 Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and chaste! Friend- 
 ship was its inhabitant! Love was its inhabitant! Domes- 
 tic affection was its inhabitant! Liberty was its inhabitant! 
 All bounded by the stream of the Rubicon! What was 
 Caesar, that stood upon the brink of that stream ? A traitor, 
 bringing war and pestilence into the heart of that country! 
 No wonder that he paused, — no wonder if, his imagination 
 wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood instead 
 of water, and heard groans instead of murmurs ! No wonder 
 if some gorgon horror had turned him into stone upon the 
 spot! But, no! he cried, "The die is cast!" He plunged! 
 he crossed! and Rome was free no more! 
 
 214. Graphic, Delineative Style : Anecdotes and their 
 Applications. As a rule, on objects referred to, use a downward 
 bend or inflection (§ 50), and sometimes the circumflex {§§ 69, 70). 
 These objects should be articulated distinctly, which will tend to 
 make the predominating terminal stress (§ 101) short and sharp, or 
 change it to initial stress (§ 100), When, again, there is vaxxohdrift 
 (§ 154) the terminal will become median stress (§ 102). 
 
 Orotund Quality. Toward the end of each selection this orotund 
 may be aspirated (§§ 135, 136). 
 
 39. THE LAST CHARGE OF NEY.— J. T. Headley. 
 
 The whole | continental | struggle | exhibited no sublimer | spec- 
 tacle than the last | great ] effort | of Napoleon | to save | his sink- 
 ing I Empire. Europe | had been put 1 upon the plains | of Waterloo | 
 to be battled for. The greatest | military | energy | and skill | the 
 
 world I possessed | had been tasked to the utmost | during the day. 
 
 w 
 Thrones | were tottering | on the ensanguined | field, ] and the shad- 
 tr mf R CwRC to msRC 
 
 ows I of fugitive | kings | flitted | through the smoke | of battle. 
 
SELECTION'S FOR DECLAMATION". 215 
 
 h R CF h R C 
 
 Bonaparte's | star | trembled | in the z&nith, | now | blazing- out , m 
 
 m f R C prone and down 
 
 its ancient | splendor, | now | suddenly | paling | before his anxious | 
 hye. 
 
 (At length, when the Prussians appeared on the field, he resolved 
 to stake Europe on one bold throw. He committed himself and 
 France to Ney, and saw his empire rest on a single charge. The 
 intense anxiety with which he watched the advance of the column, 
 the terrible suspense he suffered when the smoke of battle concealed 
 it from sight, and the utter despair of his great heart when the cur- 
 tain lifted over a fugitive army, and the despairing shriek rang out 
 on every side, " La garde recule. La garde recule," make us, for the 
 moment, forget all the carnage, in sympathy with his distress.) 
 
 Ney felt the pressure | of the immense | responsibility | on his 
 
 tr to 
 brave | heart, | and resolved | not to prove unworthy | of the great | 
 
 brRCF to msRC 
 
 trust I committed to his care. Nothing | could be more [ impos- 
 ing I than the movement | of the grand | column | to the assault. 
 
 turn body to the right back BO 1 f B O 
 
 That guard | had never | yet | recoiled | before a human foe; and 
 
 turn to the left m f B C slowly drop 
 
 the allied | forces | beheld | with awe | its firm | and terrible | ad- 
 
 BC 
 vance | to the final ] charge. 
 
 For a moment | the batteries | stopped | playing, and the firing 
 ceased along the British lines, | as | without the beating | of a drum, | 
 
 w msLC tomf LC 
 
 or the blast | of a bugle, | they moved | in dead | silence | over 
 
 w m f L O 
 the plain. The next I moment j the artillery | opened, | and the 
 
 f L C prone slowly- 
 
 head I of the gallant | column | seemed to sink | down; yet they 
 
 drop L C ^ . lift f B C 
 
 neither stopped | nor faltered. Dissolving | squadrons | and whole ] 
 f B C drop B C slowly 
 
 battalions | disappearing, | one after another, | in the destructive | 
 
 1 f B o Ft 
 fire, I affected not | their steady | courage. The ranks | closed up [ 
 
 turn to the right w 1 B C push 
 
 as before, | and each, | treading over | his fallen | comrade, | 
 B C forward 
 pressed | firmly | on. The horse which Ney rode | f&ll | under him, | 
 
 1 R o 
 and he had scarcely | mounted | another, | before it also | sank | to 
 
216 orator's manual. 
 
 fROlRO fhRC 
 
 the ^arth. Again and ag'ain | did that | unflinching | man j feel | 
 wmsRCms RC 
 
 his steed | sink down, | till five | had been shot | under him. 
 
 h 
 Then, | with his uniform | riddled | with bullets, | and his face | 
 
 R C near face _ m f R C prone 
 
 singed | and blackened | with powder, | he marched on foot, with 
 
 m f R C prone 
 drawn | sabre, | at the head | of his m^n. 
 
 In vain | did the artillery | hurl its storm | of fire I and lead | 
 turm to left — to right push f m B C forward 
 
 into that living- | mass; up to the very mi^izzles they pressed, | and 
 
 push f m B C forward push f m B C 
 
 driving the artillery-men j from their places, | pushed on | through 
 forward w mRCFtomsRCF and 
 
 the English | lines. But at that moment | a tile of soldiers, who 
 change to m s C pr m s C 
 
 had lain | flat | on the ground | behind a low | ridge [ of earth, ' 
 
 s h R C w R C tr to R C Ft on waist turn to left 
 
 suddenly rose | and poured a volley | into their very faces. Another 
 
 slowly wmLCto sLC 
 
 and another | followed, till one | broad | sheet of flame | rolled on 
 
 L C 
 their bosoms, and in such a fierce [ and unexpected | flow, | that 
 Ibk LC m LCsLCh 
 
 human [ courage | could not withstand it. They reeled, || shook, || 
 
 s L C w tr L C to br and to back L C 
 
 staggered b^ck, \ then turned || and fled. 
 
 (The fate of Napoleon was writ. The star that had blazed so 
 brightly over the world went down in blood; and the Bravest of the 
 Brave had fought his last battle.) 
 
 40. REGULUS TO THE CARTHAGINIANS.—^. Kellogg. 
 
 The beams of the rising sun had gilded the lofty domes 
 of Carthage, and given, v^ith its rich and mellov^ light, a 
 tinge of beauty even to the frov^ning ramparts of the outer 
 harbor. Sheltered by the verdant shores, an hundred tri- 
 remes were riding proudly at their anchors, their brazen 
 beaks glittering in the sun, their streamers dancing in the 
 morning breeze, while many a shattered plank and timber 
 gave evidence of desperate conflicts with the fleets of Rome. 
 
 No murmur of business or of revelry arose from the city. 
 The artisan had forsaken his shop, the judge his tribunal, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. ^ 217 
 
 the priest the sanctuaiy, and even the stern stoic had come 
 forth from his retirement to mingle with the crowd that, 
 anxious and agitated, were rushing toward the senate- 
 house, startled by the report that Regulus had returned to 
 Carthage. 
 
 Onward, still onward, trampling each other under foot, 
 they rushed, furious with anger and eager for revenge. 
 Fathers were there, whose sons were groaning in fetters; 
 maidens, whose lovers, weak and wounded, were dying in 
 the dungeons of Rome, and gray-haired men and matrons, 
 whom the Roman sword had left childless. 
 
 But when the stern features of Regulus were seen, and 
 his colossal form towering above the ambassadors who had 
 returned with him from Rome; when the news passed from 
 lip to lip that the dreaded warrior, so far from advising the 
 Roman senate to consent to an exchange of prisoners, had 
 urged them to pursue, with exterminating vengeance, Car- 
 thage and the Carthaginians, — the multitude swayed to and 
 fro like a forest beneath a tempest, and the rage and hate of 
 that tumultuous throng vented itself in groans, and curses, 
 and yells of vengeance. But calm, cold and immovable as 
 the marble walls around him stood the Roman; and he 
 stretched out his hand over that frenzied crowd, with ges- 
 ture as proudly commanding as though he still stood at the 
 head of the gleaming cohorts of Rome. 
 
 The tumult ceased; the curse, half muttered, died upon 
 the lip; and so intense was the silence, that the clanking of 
 the brazen manacles upon the wrists of the captive fell sharp 
 and full upon every ear in that vast assembly, as he thus 
 addressed them: 
 
 "Ye doubtless thought — for ye judge of Roman virtue 
 
 by your own — that I would break my plighted oath, rather 
 
 than, returning, brook your vengeance. If the bright blood 
 
 that fills my veins, transmitted free from godlike ancestry, 
 
 10 
 
218 oeatok's manual. 
 
 were like that slimy ooze which stagnates in your arteries, 
 I had remained at home, and broke my plighted oath to 
 save my life. 
 
 "I am a Roman citizen; therefore have I returned, that 
 ye might work your will upon this mass of flesh and bones, 
 that I esteem no higher than the rags that cover them. 
 Here, in your capital, do I defy you. Have I not conquered 
 your armies, fired your towns, and dragged your generals at 
 my chariot wheels, since first my youthful arms could wield 
 a spear? And do you think to see me crouch and cower 
 before a tamed and shattered senate? The tearing of flesh 
 and rending of sinews is but pastime compared with the 
 mental agony that heaves my frame. 
 
 " The moon has scarce yet waned since the proudest of 
 Rome's proud matrons, the mother upon whose breast I slept, 
 and whose fair brow so oft had bent over me before the 
 noise of battle had stirred my blood, or the fierce toil of war 
 nerved my sinews, did with fondest memory of bygone hours 
 entreat me to remain. I have seen her, who, when my 
 country called me to the field, did buckle on my harness 
 with trembling "hands, while the tears fell thick and fast 
 down the hard corselet scales, — I have seen her tear her gray 
 locks and beat her aged breast, as on her knees she begged 
 me not to return to Carthage; and all the assembled senate 
 of Rome, grave and reverend men, proft'ered the same re- 
 quest. The puny torments which ye have in store to wel- 
 come me withal, shall be, to what I have endured, even as 
 the murmur of a summer's brook to the fierce roar of angry 
 surges on a rocky beach. 
 
 " Last night, as I lay fettered in my dungeon, I heard a 
 strange ominous sound: it seemed like the distant march of 
 some vast army, their harness clanging as they marched, 
 when suddenly there stood by me Xanthippus, the Spartan 
 general, by whose aid you conquered me, and, with a voice 
 low as when the solemn wind moans through the leaflesj 
 
I 
 
 SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 219 
 
 forest, he thus addressed me: 'Roman. I come to bid thee 
 curse, with thy dying breath, this fated city; know that in 
 an evil moment, the Carthaginian generals, furious with 
 rage that I had conc[uered thee, their conqueror, did basely 
 murder me. And then they thought to stain my brightest 
 honor. But, for this foul deed, the wrath of Jove shall rest 
 upon them here and hereafter.' And then he vanished. 
 
 " And now, go bring your sharpest torments. The woes 
 I see impending over this guilty realm shall be enough to 
 sweeten death, though every nerve and artery were a shoot- 
 ing pang. I die! but my death shall prove a proud triumph; 
 and, for every drop of blood ye from my veins do draw, 
 your own shall flow^ in rivers. Woe to thee, Carthage ! Woe 
 to the proud city of the waters ! I see thy nobles wailing 
 at the feet of Eoman senators I thy citizens in terror ! thy 
 ships in flames! I hear the victorious shouts of Eome! I 
 see her eagles glittering on thy ramparts. Proud city, thou 
 art doomed! The curse of God is on thee — a clinging, 
 wasting curse. It shall not leave thy gates till hungry 
 flames shall lick the fretted gold from off thy proud palaces, 
 and every brook runs crimson to the sea." 
 
 41. SPAETACUS TO THE GLADIATORS AT CA.VYX.-E. Kellogg. 
 
 It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, re- 
 turning with victorious eagles, had amused the populace 
 with the sports of the amphitheatre to an extent hitherto 
 unknown even in that luxurious city. The shouts of revelry 
 had died away; the roar of the lion had ceased: the last 
 loiterer had retired from the banquet, and the lights in the 
 palace of the victor were extinguished. The moon, piercing 
 the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered the dew-drops on the 
 corselet of the Eoman sentinel, and tipped the dark waters 
 of the Yulturnus with a wavy, tremulous light. Xo sound 
 was heard, save the last sob of some retiring wave, telling 
 
220 orator's man"ual. 
 
 its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach; and then all 
 was still as the breast when the spirit has departed. In the 
 deep recesses of the amphitheatre a band of gladiators were 
 assembled, their muscles still knotted with the agony of con- 
 flict, the foam upon their lips, the scowl of battle yet linger- 
 ing on their brows, when Spartacus, starting forth from 
 amid the throng, thus addressed them: 
 
 " Ye call me chief; and ye do well to call him chief who, 
 for twelve long years, has met upon the arena every shape 
 of man or beast the broad empire of Rome could furnish, 
 and who never yet lowered his arm. If there be one among 
 you who can say that ever, in public fight or private brawl, 
 my actions did belie my tongue, let him stand forth and say 
 it. If there be three in all your company dare face me on 
 the bloody sands, let them come on. And yet I was not 
 always thus, — a hired butcher, a savage chief of still more 
 savage men! My ancestors came from old Sparta, and set- 
 tled among the vine-clad rocks and citron-groves of Syra- 
 sella. My early life ran quiet as the brooks by which I 
 sported; and when at noon I gathered the sheep beneath 
 the shade, and played upon the shepherd's flute, there was a 
 friend, the son of a neighbor, to join me in the pastime. We 
 led our flocks to the same pasture, and partook together of our 
 rustic meal. One evening, after the sheep were folded, and 
 we were all seated beneath the myrtle which shaded our 
 cottage, my grandsire, an old man, was telling of Marathon 
 and Leuctra, and how, in ancient times, a little band of 
 Spartans, in a defile of the mountains, had withstood a whole 
 army. I did not then know what war was; but my cheeks 
 burned, I knew not why, and I clasped the knees of that 
 venerable man, until my mother, parting the hair from oS 
 my forehead, kissed my throbbing temples and bade me go 
 to rest, and think no more of those old tales and savage 
 wars. That very night the Romans landed on our coast. 
 I saw the breast that had nourished me trampled by the 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 221 
 
 hoof of the war-horse, the bleeding body of my father flung 
 amidst the blazing rafters of our dwelling I 
 
 " To-day I killed a man in the arena, and when I broke 
 his helmet-clasps, behold! he was my friend. He knew me, 
 smiled faintly, gasped, and died; — the same sweet smile 
 upon his lips that I had marked, when, in adventurous boy- 
 hood, we scaled the lofty cliff to pluck the first ripe grapes, 
 and bear them home in childish triumph. I told the praetor 
 that the dead man had been my friend, generous and brave, 
 and I begged that I might bear away the bod}', to burn it 
 on a funeral pile, and mourn over its ashes. Ay, upon my 
 knees, amid the dust and blood of the arena, I begged that 
 poor boon, while all the assembled maids and matrons, and 
 the holy virgins they call Vestals, and the rabble, shouted in 
 derision, deeming it rare sport, forsooth, to see Rome's fierc- 
 est gladiator turn pale and tremble at sight of that piece of 
 bleeding clay. And the praetor drew back, as I were pollu- 
 tion, and sternly said, 'Let the carrion rot; there are no 
 noble men but Eomans.' And so, fellow-gladiators, must 
 you, and so must I, die like dogs. Rome, Rome, thou 
 hast been a tender nurse to me. Ay, thou hast given to 
 that poor, gentle, timid shepherd lad, who never knew a 
 harsher tone than a flute- note, muscles of iron and a heart 
 of flint; taught him to drive the sword through plaited mail 
 and links of rugged brass, and warm it in the marrow of 
 his foe; — to gaze into the glaring eye-balls of the fierce 
 Numidian lion, even as a boy upon a laughing girl. And he 
 shall pay thee back, until the yellow Tiber is red as frothing 
 wine, and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled. 
 
 " Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are. The strength 
 of brass is in your toughened sinews; but to-morrow some 
 Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume from his curly 
 locks, shall with his lily fingers pat your red brawn, and bet 
 his sesterces upon your blood. Hark! hear ye yon lion 
 roaring in his den? Tis three days since he tasted flesh, but 
 
222 orator's manual. 
 
 to-morrow he shall break his fast upon yours, — and a dainty 
 meal for him ye will be! If ye are beasts, then stand here 
 like fat oxen, waiting for the butcher's knife! If ye are 
 men, — follow me! Strike down yon guard, gain the moun- 
 tain passes, and there do bloody work, as did your sires at 
 Old Thermopylae. Is Sparta dead? Is the old G-recian spirit 
 frozen in your veins, that you do crouch and cower like a 
 belabored hound beneath his master's lash? comrades, 
 warriors, Thracians, — if we must fight, let us fight for 
 ourselves! If we must slaughter, let us slaughter our op- 
 pressors! If we must die, let it be under the clear sky, by 
 the bright waters, in noble, honorable battle ! " 
 
 42. SPARTACUS TO THE ROMAN ENVOYS IN ETRIJRIA. 
 
 Envoys of Eome, the poor camp of Spartacus is too much 
 honored by your presence. And does Rome stoop to parley 
 with the escaped gladiator, with the rebel ruffian, for whom 
 heretofore no slight has been too scornful? You have come, 
 with steel in your right hand and with gold in your left. 
 What heed we give the former, ask Cossinius; ask Claudius, 
 ask Varinius; ask the bones of your legions that fertilize 
 the Lucanian plains. And for your gold — would ye know 
 what we do with that, go ask the laborer, the trodden poor, 
 the helpless and the hopeless, on our route; ask all whom 
 Roman tyranny had crushed, or Roman avarice plundered. 
 Ye have seen me before; but ye did not then shun my 
 glance as now. Ye have seen me in the arena, when I was 
 Rome's pet ruffian, daily smeared with blood of men or 
 beasts. One day — shall I forget it ever? — ye were present 
 — I had fought long and well. Exhausted as I was, your 
 munerator, your lord of the games, bethought him it were 
 an equal match to set against me a new man, younger and 
 lighter than I, but fresh and valiant. With Thracian sword 
 
SELECTIOis^S FOR DECLAMATIOiT. 223 
 
 and buckler, forth be came, a beautiful defiance on his brow! 
 Bloody and brief the fight. "He has it!" cried the people; 
 ^'hahet! habetf But still he lowered not his arm, until, at 
 length, I held him, gashed and fainting, in my power. I 
 looked around upon the Podium, where sat 3^our senators and 
 men of state, to catch the signal of release — of mercy. But 
 not a thumb was reversed. To crown your sport, the van- 
 c[uished man must die ! Obedient brute that I was, I was 
 about to slay him, when a few hurried words — rather a 
 welcome to death than a plea for life — told me he was a 
 Thracian. I stood transfixed. The arena vanished. I was in 
 Thrace, upon my native hills ! The sword dropped from my 
 hands. I raised the dvin^ vouth tenderly in my arms. 0, the 
 magnanimity of Rome ! Your haughty leaders, enraged at 
 being cheated of their death-show, hissed their disappoint- 
 ment, and shouted, "Kill!" I heeded them as I would 
 heed the howl of wolves. Kill Jiun? — They might better 
 have asked the mother to kill the babe, smiling in her face. 
 Ah! he was already wounded unto death; and amid the 
 angry yells of the spectators, he died. That night I was 
 scourged for disobedience. I shall not forget it. Should 
 memory fail, there are scars here to C[uicken it. 
 
 Well; do not grow impatient. Some hours after, fiuding 
 myself, with seventy fellow-gladiators, alone in the amphi- 
 theatre, the laboring thought broke forth in words. I said, 
 — I know not what. I only know that, when I ceased, my 
 comrades looked each other in the face, and then burst forth 
 the simultaneous cry, "Lead on! Lead on! Spartacus!" 
 Forth we rushed, — seized what rude weapons chance threw 
 in our way, and to the mountains speeded. There, day by 
 day. our little band increased. Disdainful Rome sent after 
 us a handful of her troops, with a scourge for the slave 
 Spartacus. Their Aveapons soon were ours. She sent an 
 army; and down from old Vesuvius we poured, and slew 
 three thousand. Xow it was Spartacus, the dreaded rebel! 
 
224 orator's manual. 
 
 A larger army, headed by the praetor, was sent, and routed; 
 then another still. And always I remembered that fierce 
 cry, riving my heart, and calling me to "kill!" In three 
 pitched battles have I not obeyed it? And now affrighted 
 Rome sends her two Consuls, and puts forth all her strength 
 by land, and sea, as if a Pyrrhus or a Hannibal were on her 
 borders! 
 
 Envoys of Rome! To Lentulus and Gellius bear this 
 message: "Their graves are measured!" Look on that nar- 
 row stream, a silver thread, high on the mountain's side. 
 Slenderly it winds, but soon is swelled by others meeting it, 
 until a torrent, terrible and strong, it sweeps to the abyss, 
 where all is ruin. So Spartacus comes on! So swells his 
 force, — small and despised at first, but now resistless! On, 
 on to Rome we come ! The gladiators come ! Let opulence 
 tremble in all his palaces! Let oppression shudder to think 
 the oppressed may have their turn! Let cruelty turn pale 
 at thought of redder hands than his ! Oh ! we shall not forget 
 Rome's many lessons. She shall not find her training was 
 all wasted upon indocile pupils. Now, begone ! Prepare the 
 Eternal City for our games ! 
 
 43. MARULLUS TO THE ROMAN 'POYVLAC'K.-Shakspeare. 
 
 Wherefore rejoice that Caesar comes in triumph? 
 What conquest brings he home ? 
 What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
 To grace in captive bonds his chariot- wheels ? 
 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! 
 Oh, you hard hearts! you cruel men of Rome! 
 Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft 
 Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, 
 To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, 
 Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
 The life-long- day, with patient expectation, 
 To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; 
 And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
 Have you not made an universal shout, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 225 
 
 That Tiber trembled underneatli her banks 
 
 To hear the replication of your sounds, 
 
 Made in her concave shores ? 
 
 And do you now put on your best attire? 
 
 And do you now cull out a holiday ? 
 
 And do you now strew flowers in Ms way, 
 
 That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? 
 
 Begone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 
 
 Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 
 
 That needs must light on this ingratitude ! 
 
 44. WILLIAM TELL ON SWITZEELAND.— /. S. Knowles. 
 
 Once Switzerland was free ! With what a pride 
 I used to walk these hills, — look up to heaven, 
 And bless God that it was so ! It was free 
 From end to end, from clifFto lake 'twas free! 
 Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, 
 And plow our valleys, without asking leave; 
 Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow 
 In very presence of the regal sun ! 
 How happy was I in it, then ! I loved 
 Its very storms. Ay, often have I sat 
 In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake, 
 The stars went out, and down the mountain gorge 
 The wind came roaring, — I have sat and eyed 
 The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
 To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, 
 And think I had no master save his own. 
 
 You know the jutting cliff, round Which a track 
 Up hither winds, whose base is bat the brow 
 To such another one, with scanty room 
 For two a-breast to pass? O'ertaken there 
 By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along. 
 And while gust followed gust more furiously, 
 As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, 
 And I have thought of other lands, whose storms 
 Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 
 Have wished me there ; — the thought that mine was free 
 Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head. 
 And cried in thralldom to that furious wind. 
 Blow on! This is the land of liberty! 
 
2PS 
 
 45. WILLIAM TELL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.—/. S. Knowles. 
 
 Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! 
 I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 
 To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 
 A spirit in your echoes answer me, 
 And bid your tenant welcome to his home 
 Again! — sacred forms, how proud you look! 
 How high you lift your heads into the sky! 
 How huge you are! how mighty, and how free! 
 Ye are the things that tower, that shine,— whose smile 
 Makes glad, whose frown is terrible, whose forms, 
 Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 
 Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty, 
 I'm with you once again! — I call to you 
 With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you. 
 To show they still are free. I rush to you 
 As though I could embrace you ! 
 
 Scaling yonder peak, 
 I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow 
 O'er the abyss: — his broad-expanded wings 
 Lay calm and motionless upon the air, 
 As if he floated there without their aid, 
 By the sole act of his unlorded will, 
 That buoyed him proudly up. Instinctively 
 I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still 
 His airy circle, as in the delight 
 Of measuring the ample range beneath 
 And round about; absorbed, he heeded not 
 The death that threatened him. I could not shoot — 
 'Twas liberty! — I turned my bow aside, 
 And let him soar away ! 
 
 46. DANGEROUS LEGISLATION, 1849.—/. McDowell. 
 
 Mr. Chairman : When I pass by the collective | parties in this 
 case, and recall the particular ones; when I see that my own state is 
 as deeply implicated in the trouble and the danger of it as any other, 
 and shares, to the full, with all of her southern | colleagues, in the 
 most painful | apprehensions of its issue; when I see this, I turn 
 involuntarily, and with unaffected ] deference of spirit, and ask. 
 
SELECTIOKS FOE DECLAMATIOl^-. 227 
 
 w 1 R O ^ 1 
 
 What, in this exigent moment to Virginia, will Massachusetts do? 
 
 RO wlROtos RO 
 
 Will you, too, (I speak to her as present in her representatives) — 
 
 1 R O w R O back w R C to 
 
 will you, too, forgetting | all | the past, put forth a hand | to smite 
 
 f C and to m s C 
 her I ignominiously | upon the ch6ek? In your own early day of 
 deepest extremity and distress — the day of the Boston | Port Bill — 
 when your beautiful | capital was threatened with extinction, and 
 England was collecting her gigantic | power to sweep your liberties | 
 
 w L C ^ back L C back 1 L O 
 
 away, Virginia, caring for no | odds and counting no | cost, bravely, | 
 
 1 L O 1 L O 
 generously, | instantly, | stepped forth for your deliverance. Ad- 
 dressing her through the justice | of your cause | and the agonies | 
 
 1 RO 1 R O 
 
 of your condition, | you asked for her h^art. She gave it; with 
 
 w R C F to br w to R O w to R O 
 
 scarce the reservation of a throb, she gave it freely and gave it all. 
 
 w m tr R C to br f R O 
 
 You called upon her for her blood; — she took her children from her 
 
 w to 1 R O 
 bosom, and offered th^m. 
 
 ip) But in all | this | she felt and knew that she was m6re than your 
 political I ally — more than your political friend. She felt and knew 
 that she was your near, | natural born ] relation — such in virtue 
 
 1 f R o 
 of your common | descent, but such | far more still | in virtue of the 
 
 w trRO to sRO 
 
 higher attributes of a congenial and kindred nature. Do not be 
 
 startled at the idea of common | qualities between the American 
 
 1 B 
 Cavalier and the American Roundhead. A heroic and unconquer- 
 
 O Ft w to m B C 
 
 able will, differently directed, is the pervasive and master cement in 
 
 1 B O 
 the character of both. (^) Nourished by the same | spirit, sharing as 
 twin- 1 sisters in the struggle of the heritage of the same | revolu- 
 tion, what is there in any demand of national | faith, or of constitu- 
 
 1 BO 
 
 tional I duty, or of public | morals,] which should separate them now? 
 1 B O down 
 (/) Give us but a part of that devotion which glowed in the heart 
 1 s R o 1 f R , o 
 
 of the younger | Pitt, and of our own elder | Adams, who, in the 
 
 R C Ft on waist 
 midst of their agonies, forgot not the countries they had lived for, 
 
228 oratoe's manual. 
 
 but mingled with the spasms of their dying- hour a last and implor- 
 
 .1 R O h R O 
 
 ing appeal to the parent of all | mercies, that he would remember, 
 
 m R O 1 R O R O 
 
 in eternal | blessings, the land of their birth; give us their devotion 
 
 1 s L O w to 
 
 — give us that of the young enthusiast of Paris, who, listening to 
 msLC msLC 
 
 Mirabeau in one of his surpassing vindications of human rights, and 
 
 drop L C pr 1 L C 
 
 seeing him tall from his stand, dying, as a physician proclaimed, for 
 
 back L C 
 the want of blood, (/") rushed to the spot, and as he bent over the ex- 
 
 L C on R wrist and R Ft 
 piring man, bared his arm for the lancet, and cried ag^in and again, 
 
 ditto ditto 
 
 with impassioned voice: " H&re, take it — oh! take it from me! let 
 ditto 1 f B o 1 
 
 me die, so that Mirabeau and the liberties of my country may not 
 B O wide 1 B O 1 
 
 parish! " Give us something only of such a love of country, and we 
 
 f B O m s BO turn to h B C tr 
 
 are safe, forever safe : the troubles which shadow over and oppress 
 
 and tohsBC f hBC^ 
 
 US now will pass away like a summer cloud. The fatal element of 
 
 w b k B C down 
 
 all our discord will be removed from among us. {ff) Let gentlemen 
 be adjured by the weal of this and coming ages, by our own and 
 our children's good, by all that we love or that we look for in the 
 progress and the glories of our land, to leave this entire subject, 
 with every accountability it may impose, every remedy it may re- 
 quire, every accumulation of difficulty or degree of pressure it may 
 reach — to leave it all to the interest, to the wisdom, and to the con- 
 science, of those upon whom the providence of God and the constitu- 
 tion of their country have cast it.) 
 
 {pp) It is said, sir, that at some dark hour of our revolutionary 
 contest, when army after army had been lost; when, dispirited, 
 beaten, wretched, the heart of the boldest and faithfulest died within 
 them, and all, for an instant, seemed conquered, except the uncon- 
 querable soul of our father-chi^f, — {p) it is said that at that moment, 
 
 lift f R C w tr R C to 
 
 rising above all the auguries around him, and buoyed up by the 
 br and to m f s R C ^ to 
 
 inspiration of his immortal work for all the trials it could bring, he 
 
 h R C and hold 
 
 aroused anew the sunken spirit of his associates by this confident 
 w to m s R C 
 
 and daring declaration: (/) " Strip me (said he) of the dejected and 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 229 
 
 w m tr R C and to m s R C 
 suiFering- remnant of my army — take from me all that 1 have left — 
 
 w tr R C w to h f 
 
 leave me but a banner, give me but the means to plant it upon the 
 R C F w tr R C to br 
 
 mountains of West Augusta, and I will yet draw around me the 
 
 IRQ m 
 
 men who shall lift iip their bleeding country from the dust, and set 
 
 R O IRQ down 
 
 her free! " {ff) Give to me, who am a son and representative here of 
 
 sRO fRO wRCtr 
 
 the same | West | Augusta, give to \\\h as a banner the propitious 
 
 to f m R C 
 
 measure I have endeavored to support, help me to plant it upon this 
 
 hR C F 
 mountain- top of our national power, and the land | of Washington, 
 
 f B O wide 
 
 undivided and unbroken, will be our land, and the land of our chil- 
 
 B O 1 B O 
 
 dren's children forever! (So help me to do this at this hour, and, 
 generations hence, some future son of the South, standing where I 
 stand, in the midst of our legitimate successors, will bless, and 
 praise, and thank God that he, too, can say of them, as I of you, 
 and of all around me — these, these are my brethren, and Oh! this, 
 this, too, is my country!) 
 
 47. PUBLIC OPINION AND THE SWORD.— Thomas B. Macaulay. 
 
 I know only two ways in which societies can permanently 
 be governed — by Public Opinion, and by the Sword. A 
 government having at its command the armies, the fleets, 
 and the revenues of Great Britain, might possibl}^ hold Ire- 
 land by the sword. So Oliver Cromwell held Ireland; so 
 William the Third held it; so Mr. Pitt held it; so the Duke 
 of Wellington might, perhaps, have held it. But, to govern 
 Great Britain by the sword — so wild a thought has never, I 
 will venture to say, occurred to any public man of any party; 
 and, if any man were frantic enough to make the attempt, 
 he would find, before three days had expired, that there is 
 no better sword than that v^hich is fashioned out of a 
 ploughshare! But, if not by the sword, how is the people 
 to be governed? I understand how the peace is kept at 
 
230 orator's manual. 
 
 New York. It is by the assent and support of the people. 
 I understand, also, how the peace is kept at Milan. It is by 
 the bayonets of the Austrian soldiers. But how the peace is 
 to be kept when you have neither the popular assent nor the 
 military force, — how the peace is to be kept in England by 
 a government acting on the principles of the present Oppo- 
 sition, — I do not understand. 
 
 Sir, we read that, in old times, when the villeins were 
 driven to revolt by oppression, — when the castles of the 
 nobility were burned to the ground, — when the warehouses 
 of London were pillaged, — when a hundred thousand insur- 
 gents appeared in arms on Blackheath, — when a foul mur- 
 der, perpetrated in their presence, had raised their passions 
 to madness, — when they were looking round for some Cap- 
 tain to succeed and avenge him whom they had lost, — just 
 then, before Hob Miller, or Tom Carter, or Jack Straw, could 
 place himself at their head, the King rode up to them, and 
 exclaimed, "I will be your leader!" — And, at once, the 
 infuriated multitude laid down their arms, submitted to his 
 guidance, dispersed at his command. Herein let us imitate 
 him. Let us say to the people, " We are your leaders, — we, 
 your own House of Commons." This tone it is our interest 
 and our duty to take. The circumstances admit of no delay. 
 Even while I speak, the moments are passing away, — the 
 irrevocable moments, pregnant with the destiny of a great 
 people. The country is in danger; it may be saved: we can 
 save it. This is the way — this is the time. In our hands 
 are the issues of great good and great evil — the issues of 
 the life and death of the State ! 
 
 48. A REMINISCENCE OF 'L'EXmGTOl^ .—Theodore ParJcer. 
 
 One raw morning in spring — it will be eighty years the 
 19th day of this month — Hancock and Adams, the Moses and 
 Aaron of that Great Deliverance, were both at Lexington; 
 they also had "obstructed an officer" with brave words. British 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 23l 
 
 soldiers, a thousand strong, came to seize them and carry 
 them over sea for trial, and so nip the bud of Freedom aus- 
 piciously opening in that early spring. The town militia 
 came together before daylight, " for training." A great, tall 
 man, with a large head and a high, wide brow, their cap- 
 tain, — one who had " seen service," — marshalled them into 
 line, numbering but seventy, and bade " every man load his 
 piece with powder and ball. I will order the first man shot 
 that runs away," said he, when some faltered. " Don't fire 
 unless fired upon, but if they want to have a war, let it 
 begin here." 
 
 Gentlemen, you know what followed; those farmers and 
 mechanics " fired the shot heard round the world." A little 
 monument covers the bones of such as before had pledged 
 their fortune and their sacred honor to the Freedom of 
 America, and that day gave it also their lives. I was born 
 in that little town, and bred up amid the memories of that 
 day. When a boy, my mother lifted me up. one Sunday, in 
 her religious, patriotic arms, and held me while I read the 
 first monumental line I ever saw — "Sacred to Liberty and 
 the Rights of Mankind." 
 
 Since then I have studied the memorial marbles of Greece 
 und Rome, in many an ancient town ; nay, on Egyptian obe- 
 lisks, have read what was written before the Eternal roused 
 up Moses to lead Israel out of Egypt, but no chiseled stone 
 has ever stirred me to such emotion as these rustic names 
 of men who fell " In the Sacred Cause of God and their 
 Country." 
 
 Gentlemen, the Spirit of Liberty, the Love of Justice, was 
 early fanned into a flame in my boyish heart. That monu- 
 ment covers the bones of my own kinsfolk; it was their 
 blood which reddened the long, green grass at Lexington. 
 It was my own name which stands chiseled on that stone; 
 the tall Captain who marshalled his fellow farmers and 
 mechanics into stern array, and spoke such brave and dan- 
 
232 orator's manual. 
 
 gerous words as opened the war of American Independence, — 
 the last to leave the field, — was my father's father. I 
 learned to read out of his Bible, and with a musket he that 
 day captured from the foe I learned also another religious 
 lesson, that " Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God/' I 
 keep them both, " Sacred to Liberty and the Rights of Man- 
 kind,'' to use them both, " In the Sacred Cause of God and 
 my Country." 
 
 49. IRISH GnmYANCBS.-Bichard L. Shell. 
 
 If we were to adopt the language which is prescribed to 
 us, the people of England would not believe that we labored 
 under any substantial grievances. " I do not believe you " 
 (said a celebrated advocate of antiquity to a citizen who 
 stated to him a case of enormous wrong), — " I do not 
 believe you." "Not believe me?" "No." "What! not 
 believe me! I tell you that my antagonist met me in the 
 public way, seized me by the throat, flung me to the earth, 
 and — " "Hold," — exclaimed Demosthenes; "your eye is on 
 fire; your lip begins to quiver; your cheek is flushed with 
 passion; your hand is clinched. I believe you now; when 
 you first addressed me you were too calm — too cold — too 
 measured; but now you speak, you look like one who has 
 sustained a wrong ! " 
 
 And are we to speak and act like men who have sustained 
 no wrong? We! Six millions of — what shall I say? — 
 citizens? No! but of men who have been flagitiously 
 spoliated of the rights and privileges of British subjects, 
 who are cast into utter degradation, and covered with dis- 
 grace and shame, upon whom scorn is vented and contumely 
 discharged ; we who are the victims of legislative plunder — 
 who have been robbed, with worse than Punic perfidy, of 
 privileges which our ancestors had purchased at Limerick 
 with their blood, which were secured by the faith of treaties, 
 and consecrated with all the solemnities of a great national 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAiTATlOK. 233 
 
 compact, — shall we speak like men who have sustained no 
 wrongs ? 
 
 We are upon our knees; but even in kneeling, an atti- 
 tude of dignity should be maintained. Shall we ask for the 
 rights of freemen in the language of slaves? May common 
 sense — common feeling — common honor — may every gen- 
 erous principle implanted in our nature — may that God (I 
 do not take his name in vain), may that Power that endowed 
 us with high aspirations, and filled the soul of man with 
 honorable emotion; who made the love of freedom an 
 instinctive wish, an unconquerable appetite; may the great 
 Author of our being, the Creator of the human heart — may 
 God forbid it! 
 
 215. Elaborative Style. The long- sentence and climax. 
 
 Terminal Stress (§ 101) ghding into Median (§ 102) wherever the 
 speaker begins to feel the Drift (§ 154) or balance of the Rhetoric. 
 End each climax with the gradual descent in pitch indicated in 
 §§ 83-85. The first two examples contain series of preliminary 
 clauses ending with doivmvard inflections; in the other examples 
 these end with upward inflections. 
 
 ^P" In the following many of the words in subordinate clauses marked for 
 downward or downward-circumflex inflections, may take upward inflections; 
 but if rendered thus the delivery will not be so emphatic. Try an upward inflec- 
 tion on "Alps," etc. 
 
 50. EXAMPLES FOR rRELA:J^D.-r. F. Meagher. 
 
 Other nations, with abilities far less eminent than those which 
 you possess, having great difficulties to encounter, have obeyed with 
 heroism the commandment from which you have swerved, maintain- 
 ing that noble order of existence, through which even the poorest 
 state becomes an instructive chapter in the great history of the 
 
 world. 
 
 wlR O wmsRC wm 
 
 Shame upon you! Switzerland — without a colony, without a 
 sRC wms RC 
 
 gun upon the s^as, without a helpmg hand from any court in Europe 
 
 w R C Ft to waist w to 1 II O down 
 
 — has held for centuries her footing on the Alps — spite of the ava- 
 lanche, has bid her Httle territory sustain, in peace and plenty, the 
 children to whom she has given birth — has trained those children 
 10* 
 
234 orator's manual. 
 
 up in the arts that contribute most to the security, the joy, the dig- 
 
 w tr to Yr RCF w 
 
 nity of life — has taught them to depend upon themselves, and for 
 
 EC to m s ^C 
 
 their fortune to be thankful to no officious stranger — and, though a 
 
 lift to h E i! ^ hold 
 
 blood-red cloud is breaking over one of her brightest lakes, what- 
 
 h C shake h 
 
 ever plague it may portend, be assured of this — the cap of foreign 
 RCF w tomsRCF prone 
 
 despotism will never again gleam in the market-place of Altorff ! 
 
 w 1 L O ^ 1 li w 
 
 Shame upon you! Norway — with her scanty population, scarce 
 
 m s L C lift LC tohsLCF drop to 
 
 a million strong — has kept her flag upon the Cattegat — has reared a 
 
 s L C and down 
 
 race of gallant sailors to guard her frozen soil — year after year has 
 
 nursed upon that soil a harvest to which the Swede can lay no claim 
 
 — has saved her ancient laws — and to the spirit of her frank and 
 
 1 L O L O L O snatch L O to L C Ft on waist 
 
 hardy s6ns ] commits | the freedom which she rescued from the 
 
 w to L O 
 
 allied swords, when they hacked her crown at Fr^derickstadt! 
 
 w 1 RO w 1 sRO turn 
 
 Shame upon you! Holland — with the ocean as her foe — from 
 to 1 s R C 
 
 the swamp in which you would have sunk your | graves, has bid 
 
 lift 
 the palace, and the warehouse costlier than the palace, rear their 
 
 s R C drop to 1 C prone 
 
 ponderous ] shapes | above the waves that battle at their base — has 
 
 s R C F prone w R C F to 
 outstripped the merchant of the Rialto — has threatened England in 
 
 fmCF wRC to ^ _ msRC 
 
 the Thames — has swept the channel with her broom — and, though 
 
 w s R C tr to br R C w 
 
 for a day she reeled before the bayonets of Dumotiriez, she sprang 
 to R C f h o Ft 
 
 to her feet again and struck the tricolor from her dykes! 
 
 f B O 1 f B O wider B O 
 
 And you — you, who are eight millions strong — you, who boast at 
 lift to h B O and drop to 1 BO 
 
 every meeting that this island is the finest which the sun looks down 
 
 BO 
 upon — you, who have no threatening | sea to stem, no avalanche to 
 
 dread — you, who say that you could shield along your coast a 
 
 thousand | sail, and be the princes of a mighty | commerce— you, 
 
 who by the magic of an honest | hand, beneath each summer | sky, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 235 
 
 w 1 tr R C to br C w to 1 
 
 might cull a plenteous \ har^rest from your soil, and with the sickle 
 s R C 
 strike away the scythe of d&ath — you, who have no vulgar | history 
 
 to r^ad — you, who can trace, from field to field, tJie evidences of 
 
 1 L O 
 civilization | older than the Conquest — the relics of a religion | far 
 
 to h L O 1 L O 
 
 more ancient than the Gospel — you, who have thus been blessed, 
 thus been gifted, thus been prompted to what is wis6 and generous 
 
 w 1 B C bk 
 and gr^at — you will* make no Effort — you will whine, and b^g, and 
 
 w R C tr to C on waist w to 
 
 skulk, in sores and rags, upon this favored land — you will congregate 
 
 m R C drop to 1 R C 
 
 in drowsy councils, and th^n, when the very earth is loosening 
 IRC w tr R C and to m 
 
 beneath your f^et, you will bid a prosperous voyage to your last 
 s R C^ w to brRC ^ w to 1 R C 
 
 grain of corn — you will be beggared by the million — you will parish 
 
 h R C F 
 by the thousand, and the finest island which the sun looks down 
 
 shake b R C m f _ C _ 
 
 upon, amid the jeers and hootings of the world, will blacken into a 
 prone lower C 1 C 
 
 plague-spot, a wilderness, a sepulchre. 
 
 51. GREAT BRITAIN AND AMEUICA.—I^ewman Hall. 
 
 Let all good citizens in both England and America, all 
 who desire the world's progress, strive to preserve peace and 
 international good- will. 
 
 I appeal to you by the unity of our race — for, with two 
 governments we are one people ; by the unity of the grand 
 old language we alike speak, with the thrilling names of 
 father, mother, home, dear to us alike; by our common lit- 
 erature, our Shakspeare, who is your Shakspeare, our Mil- 
 ton, who is your Milton, our Longfellows and Tennysons, 
 side by side in all our libraries; I appeal to you by the 
 stirring memories of our common history, — by those ances- 
 tors of both our nations, who proved their prowess at Hast- 
 ings, whether as sturdy Saxons defending the standard of 
 King Harold, or as daring Normans spurring their chivalry 
 
236 orator's manual. 
 
 to the trumpet of Duke William, — and who, afterward 
 united on a better field, wrung from a reluctant tyrant 
 that great charter which is the foundation of our liberties 
 on both sides of the Atlantic; I appeal to you by the stir- 
 ring times when those common ancestors lighted their 
 beacons on every hill, and rallied around a lion-hearted 
 queen, and launched forth — some of them in mere fishing 
 vessels — against the proud Armada that dared to threaten 
 their subjugation; I appeal to you by the struggles of the 
 commonwealth, by the memories of those who put to rout 
 the abettors of tyranny — Cromwell, Hampden, Sir Harry 
 Vane; I appeal to you by those Pilgrim Fathers here, and 
 by those Puritans and Covenanters who remained behind, 
 by whose heroic sufferings both nations enjoy such freedom 
 to worship God; I appeal to you by the graves in which 
 our common ancestors repose, — not only, it may be, be- 
 neath the stately towers of Westminster, but in many an 
 ancient village churchyard, where daisies grow on the turf- 
 covered graves, and venerable yew-trees cast over them 
 their solemn shade; I appeal to you by that Bible — pre- 
 cious to us both; by that gospel which our missionaries 
 alike proclaim to the heathen world, and by that Savior 
 whom we both adore, — never let there be strife between 
 nations whose conflict would be the rushing together of two 
 Niagaras, but whose union will be like the irresistible 
 course of two great rivers flowing on majestically to fer- 
 tilize and bless the world. 
 
 Never let our beautiful standards — yours of the stars 
 and stripes, suggesting the lamps of night and the rays of 
 day, and ours of the clustered crosses, telling of union in 
 diversity, and reminding of the One Great Liberator and 
 Peace-Maker, who, by the cross, gave life to the world — 
 never let these glorious standards be arrayed in hostile 
 ranks; but ever may they float side by side, leading on the 
 van of the world's progress. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 237 
 
 Oh, I can imagine that if we, the hereditary champions of 
 freedom, were engaged in strife, all the despots of the earth 
 would clap their hands, and all the demons in hell would 
 exult, while angels would weep to see these two nations 
 wasting the treasure and shedding the blood that should be 
 reserved for the strife against the common foes of freedom. 
 
 Never give angels such cause of lamentation, never give 
 despots and demons such cause for rejoicing; but ever Great 
 Britain and America — the mother and the daughter, or, if 
 you prefer it, the elder daughter and the younger — go 
 forth hand in hand, angel-guardians together of civiliza- 
 tion, freedom and religion, their only rivalry the rivalry of 
 love. 
 
 52. THE CAUSE OP TEMPERANCE.-JoA^i B. Gough. 
 
 Our cause is a progressive one. I have read the first 
 constitution of the first temperance society formed in the 
 State of New York in 1809, and one of the by-laws stated: 
 "Any member of this association who shall be convicted of 
 intoxication shall be fined a quarter of a dollar, except such 
 act of intoxication shall take place on the Fourth of July, 
 or any other regularly appointed military muster." We 
 laugh at that now; but it was a serious matter in those 
 days: it was in advance of the public sentiment of the age. 
 The very men who adopted that principle were persecuted: 
 they were hooted and pelted through the streets, the doors 
 of their houses were blackened, their cattle mutilated. 
 
 The fire of persecution scorched some men so that they 
 left the work. Others worked on, and God blessed them. 
 Some are living to-day; and I should like to stand where 
 they stand now, and see the mighty enterprise as it rises 
 before them. They worked hard. They lifted the first 
 turf — prepared the bed in which to lay the corner-stone. 
 They laid it amid persecution and storm. They worked 
 
238 orator's makual. 
 
 under the surface; and men almost forgot that there were 
 busy hands laying the solid foundation far down beneath. 
 
 By and by they got the foundation above the surface, 
 and then began another storm of persecution. Now we 
 see the superstructure — pillar after pillar, tower after 
 tower, column after column, with the capitals emblazoned 
 with "Love, truth, sympathy, and good-will to men." Old 
 men gaze upon it as it grows up before them. They will 
 not live to see it completed; but they see in faith the crown- 
 ing copestone set upon it. Meek-eyed women weep as it 
 grows in beauty; children strew the pathway of the work- 
 men with flowers. 
 
 We do not see its beauty yet — we do not see the mag- 
 nificence of its superstructure yet — because it is in course 
 of erection. Scaffolding, ropes, ladders, workmen ascend- 
 ing and descending, mar the beauty of the building; but 
 by and by, when the hosts who have labored shall come up 
 over a thousand battlefields waving with bright grain never 
 again to be crushed in the distillery — through vineyards, 
 under trellised vines, with grapes hanging in all their pur- 
 ple glory, never again to be pressed into that which can de- 
 base and degrade mankind — when they shall come through 
 orchards, under trees hanging thick with golden pulpy 
 fruit, never to be turned into that which can injure and 
 debase — when they shall come up to the last distillery and 
 destroy it; to the last stream of liquid death, and dry it up; 
 to the last weeping wife, and wipe her tears gently away; 
 to the last child, and lift him up to stand where God meant 
 that child and man should stand; to the last drunkard, and 
 nerve him to burst the burning fetters and make a glorious 
 accompaniment to the song of freedom by the clanking of 
 his broken chains — then, ah! then will the copestone be 
 set upon it, the scaffolding will fall with a crash, and the 
 building will stand in its wondrous beauty before an aston- 
 ished world. Loud shouts of rejoicing shall then be heard, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOl^. 239 
 
 and there will be joy in heaven, when the triumphs of a 
 great enterprise usher in the day of the triumphs of the 
 cross of Christ. 
 
 53. DUTY OF AMERICA TO GREECE.— iZenry Clay. 
 
 Are we so low, so base, so despicable, that we may not 
 express our horror, articulate our detestation, of the most 
 brutal and atrocious war that ever stained earth, or shocked 
 high heaven, with the ferocious deeds of a brutal soldiery, 
 set on by the clergy and followers of a fanatical and inim- 
 ical religion, rioting in excess of blood and butchery, at the 
 mere details of which the heart sickens? If the great mass 
 of Christendom can look coolly and calmly on, while all this 
 is perpetrated on a Christian people, in their own vicinity, 
 in their very presence, let us, at least, show that, in this 
 distant exti'emity, there is still some sensibility and sym- 
 pathy for Christian wrongs and sufferings; that there are 
 still feelings which can kindle into indignation at the op- 
 pression of a people endeared to us by every ancient recol- 
 lection and every modern tie. 
 
 But, sir, it is not first and chiefly for Greece that I wish 
 to see this measure adopted. It will give her but little aid 
 t — that aid purely of a moral kind. It is, indeed, soothing 
 and solacing, in distress, to hear the accents of a friendly 
 voice. We know this as a people. But, sir, it is princi- 
 pally and mainly for America herself, for the credit and 
 character of our common country, that I hope to see this 
 resolution pass; it is for our own unsullied name that I 
 feel. 
 
 What appearance, sir, on the page of history, would a 
 record like this make: " In the month of January, in the 
 year of our Lord and Savior 1824, while all European 
 Christendom beheld, with cold, unfeeling apathy, the unex- 
 ampled wrongs and inexpressible misery of Christian 
 Greece, a proposition was made in the Congress of the 
 
240 oratoh's makual. 
 
 United States — almost the sole, the last, the greatest re- 
 pository of human hope and of human freedom, the repre- 
 sentatives of a nation capahle of bringing into the field a 
 million of bayonets — while the freemen of that nation 
 were spontaneously expressing its deep-toned feeling, its 
 fervent prayer, for Grecian success; while the whole conti- 
 nent was rising, by one simultaneous motion, solemnly and 
 anxiously supplicating and invoking the aid of heaven to 
 spare Greece, and to invigorate her arms: while temples 
 and senate-houses were all resounding with one burst of 
 generous sympathy; in the year of our Lord and Savior, — 
 that Savior alike of Christian Greece and of us, — a propo- 
 sition was offered in the American Congress to send a mes- 
 senger to Greece, to inquire into her state and condition, 
 with an expression of our good wishes and our sympathies, 
 — and it was rejected! " 
 
 Go home, if you dare, — go home, if you can, — to your 
 constituents, and tell them that you voted it down ! Meet, 
 if you dare, the appalling countenances of those who sent 
 you here, and tell them that you shrank from the declara- 
 tion of your own sentiments; that, you cannot tell how, 
 but that some unknown dread, some indescribable appre- 
 hension, some indefinable danger, affrighted you; that the 
 spectres of cimeters, and crowns and crescents, gleamed be- 
 fore you, and alarmed you; and that you suppressed all the 
 noble feelings prompted by religion, by liberality, by na- 
 tional independence, and by humanity! I cannot bring 
 myself to believe that such will be the feeling of a majority 
 of this House. 
 
 ANIMATED AND EXPOSITORY SELECTIONS. 
 
 216. In all these the predommating- Time is slower, Pitch slightly 
 higher, and Tone louder than in ordinary conversation ; Force smooth, 
 loud, expulsive and effusive (§§ 106-120); Quahty pure and orotund 
 (§§ 131-137). 
 
SELECTIONS EOR DECLAMATION. 241 
 
 217. Explanatory and Categorical. The following begin 
 with a short, sharp Terminal (§ 101), becoming, at times, Initial 
 stress (§ 100), and end with a longer Terminal, sometimes becoming 
 Median (§ 102). A few of the selections may take Pure Quality at 
 the opening; all should close with the Orotund (§§ 131-137J. 
 
 54. SMALL BEGINNINGS OF GREAT HISTORICAL MOVEMENTS. 
 G. S. milard. 
 
 The first | forty | years | of the seventeenth | century were fruit- 
 ful I in striking | occurrences | and remarkable | m^n. Charles II | 
 was born in 1630. When he had reached an age to understand the 
 rudiments | of historical | knowledge, we may imagine his royal 
 father to have commissioned some grave and experienced counselor 
 of his court to instruct the future monarch of England in the great | 
 Events which had taken place in Europe since the opening of the 
 century. 
 
 w 1 B O 
 Upon what themes would the tutor of the young prince have been 
 1 B O f R 
 
 likely to discourse ? He would have dwelt upon the struggle between 
 O s R o m s 
 
 Spain and the Netherlands, and upon the Thirty Tears' War in 
 R O bring s RO to R C F on 
 
 Germany; and he would have recalled the sorrow that fell upon the 
 
 br bold ^ ^ 1 
 
 heart of England when the news came of the disastrous battle of 
 
 R O 
 
 Prague. 
 
 LC to 
 He would have painted the horror and dismay | which ran through 
 br w _ to s m L C 
 
 France at the assassination of Henry IV. He would have attempted 
 
 1 
 to convey to his young pupil some notion of the military genius of 
 L O 1 s L O 
 
 Maurice of Nassau, of the vast political capacity of Cardinal Riche- 
 w m L C to br and to m f 
 
 lieu, and of the splendor and mystery that wrapped the romantic life 
 
 L C 
 of Wallenstein. 
 
 w 1 R O to 
 
 But so seemingly insignificant an occurrence as the sailing of a 
 s ROlfRO^ IRO. w 
 
 few Puritans from Delph Haven, in the summer of 1620, would doubt- 
 
 m R C to s R C 
 
 less have been entirely overlooked ; or, if mentioned at all, the young 
 
 prince might have been told, that in that year a congregation of 
 11 
 
242 orator's maitual. 
 
 If RO s RO wtolfRO 
 
 fanatical Br6wnists sailed for North "Virginia; that, since that time, 
 
 hold w to s R O 
 
 others of the same factious and troublesome sect had followed in 
 
 w to 1 R o 1 
 
 their path, and that they had sent home many cargoes of fish and 
 
 RO 
 
 poultry. 
 
 But with our eyes, we can see that this humble event was the 
 
 1 BO 1 BO 1 BO 
 
 seed of far more memorable consequences than all the sieges, battles, 
 
 1 B O w m L C to 
 
 and treaties of that momentous period. The effects | of those fields 
 
 br and to s L C 
 
 of slaughter | hardly | lasted | longer | than the smoke and dust of 
 
 the contending armies; but the seminal principles which were carried 
 
 1 R O w m RC to br and _ 
 
 to America in the Mayflower, which grew in the wholesome air of 
 
 to s R C 1 RO Ft 1 
 
 obscurity and neglect, are at this moment vital forces in the move- 
 
 R O ^ 
 ments of the world, the extent and influence of which no political 
 
 foresight can measure. Ideas which, for the first time in the history 
 
 1 LO 
 of mankind, took | shape | upon our soil, are the springs | of that 
 
 s L C F b CF 
 
 contest I now going on in Europe | between the Past and the Future, 
 
 b CF _ f m C 
 
 the fend of which no man can she. 
 
 h L O 1 LO 
 
 May God inspire us and our rulers with the wisdom to preserve 
 1 LO 
 and transmit, unimpaired, those advantages | secured to us by our 
 
 starting | without | the weary | burdens | and perplexing | entangle- 
 ments I of the Past. May we throw into the scale of struggling 
 
 w 1 R c w R c 
 
 freedom in the Old World, not the sword of physical force, but the 
 to br and to 1 RO 1 
 
 weight of a noble example — the moral argument of a great people, 
 BO IB C mBO w 
 
 invigorated, but not intoxicated, by their liberty — a power which, 
 
 mfBC bfBO 
 
 though unsubstantial, will yet, like the uplifted hands of Moses upon 
 1 BO 1 BO 
 
 Hdreb, avail more | than hosts | of armed | mfen. 
 
SELECTIOXS FOR DECLAMATI02T. 243 
 
 55. IX BEHALF OF STARVING IRELAND.— 5'. S. Prentiss. 
 
 Fellow-citizexs: It is no ordinary cause which has 
 brought together this vast assemblage on the present occa- 
 sion. We have met, not to prepare ourselves for political 
 contests, nor to celebrate the achievements of those gallant 
 men who have planted our victorious standards in the heart 
 of an enemy's country. We have assembled, not to respond 
 to shouts of triumph from the west, but to answer the cry of 
 want and suffering which comes from the east. The Old 
 World stretches out her arms to the Xew. The starving 
 parent supplicates the young and vigorous child for bread. 
 There lies upon the other side of the wide Atlantic a beauti- 
 ful island, famous in story and in song. Its area is not so 
 great as that of the State of Louisiana, while its population 
 is almost half that of the Union. It has given to the world 
 more than its share of genius and of greatness. It has been 
 prolific in statesmen, warriors and poets. Its brave and 
 generous sons have fought successfully all battles but their 
 own. In wit and humor it has no equal; while its harp, 
 like its history, moves to tears by its sweet but melancholy 
 pathos. Into this fair region God has seen fit to send the 
 most terrible of all those fearful ministers who fulfill his in- 
 scrutable decrees. The earth has failed to give her increase ; 
 the common mother has forgotten her ofi'spring. and her 
 breast no longer affords them their accustomed nourishment 
 Famine, gaunt and ghastly famine, has seized a nation with 
 its strangling grasp; and unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes 
 of the present, forgets for a moment the gloomy history of 
 the past. 
 
 We have assembled, fellow-citizens, to express our sincere 
 sympathy for the sufferings of our brethren, and to unite in 
 efforts for their alleviation. This is one of those cases in 
 which we may, without impiety, assume, as it were, the func- 
 tion of Providence. Who knows but what one of the very 
 
244 orator's manual. 
 
 objects of this great calamity is to test the benevolence and 
 worthiness of us upon whom unlimited abundance has been 
 showered. In the name, then, of common humanity, I invoke 
 your aid in behalf of starving Ireland. Give generously and 
 freely. Recollect that in so doing you are exercising one of 
 the most God-like qualities of your nature, and at the same 
 time enjoying one of the greatest luxuries of life. We ought 
 to thank our Maker that he has permitted us to exercise 
 equally with Mmself that noblest of even the Divine attri- 
 butes, benevolence. Go home and look at your family, smiling 
 in rosy health, and then think of the pale, famine-pinched 
 cheeks of the poor children of Ireland ; and I know you will 
 give, according to your store, even as a bountiful Providence 
 has given to you — not grudgingly, but with an open hand, 
 for the quality of benevolence, like that of mercy, 
 
 " Is not strained; 
 It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed, — 
 Itblesseth him that gives, and him that takes." 
 
 56. DANGER OF THE SPIRIT OF CONQUEST.- T'/iomas Corwin. 
 
 Since I have heard so much about the dismemberment 
 of Mexico, I have looked back to see how, in the course of 
 events which some call " Providence," it has fared with other 
 nations who engaged in this work of dismemberment. I 
 see that, in the latter half of the eighteenth century, three 
 powerful nations, Russia, Austria and Prussia, united in the 
 dismemberment of Poland. They said, too, as you say, " It 
 is our destiny." They " wanted room." Doubtless each of 
 these thought, with his share of Poland, his power was 
 too strong ever to fear invasion, or even insult. One had 
 his California, another his New Mexico, and a third his 
 Vera Cruz. Did they remain untouched and incapable of 
 harm? Alas! no; far, very far, from it. Retributive jus- 
 tice must fulfill its destiny too. 
 
SELECTIONS FOK DECLAMATION. 245 
 
 A very few years pass away, and we hear of a new man, 
 a Corsican lieutenant, the self-named " armed soldier of 
 democracy," Napoleon. He ravages Austria, covers her 
 land with blood, drives the northern Caesar from his capital, 
 and sleeps in his palace. Austria may now remember how 
 her power trampled upon Poland. Did she not pay dear, 
 very dear, for her California? 
 
 But has Prussia no atonement to make? You see this 
 same Napoleon, the blind instrument of Providence, at work 
 there. The thunders of his cannon at Jena proclaim the 
 work of retribution for Poland's wrongs; and the success- 
 ors of the Great Frederick, the drill-sergeant of Europe, 
 are seen flying across the sandy plains that surround their 
 capital, right glad if they may escape captivity and death. 
 
 But how fares it with the autocrat of Russia? Is he 
 secure in his share of the spoils of Poland! No; suddenly 
 we see six hundred thousand men marching to Moscow. 
 Does his Vera Cruz protect him now? Far from it. Blood, 
 slaughter, desolation, spread abroad over the land, and, 
 finally, the conflagration of the old commercial metropolis 
 of Russia closes the retribution she must pay for her share 
 in the dismemberment of her weak and impotent neighbor. 
 
 A mind more prone to look for the judgments of Heaven 
 in the doings of men than mine cannot fail in this to see the 
 providence of God. When Moscow burned, it seemed as if 
 the earth was lighted up, that nations might behold the 
 scene. As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved, and 
 rolled upward, and yet higher, till its flames licked the 
 stars and fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though the 
 God of the nations was writing in characters of flame, on 
 the front of his throne, that doom that shall fall upon the 
 strong nation which tramples in scorn upon the weak. 
 
 And what fortune awaited him, the appointed executor of 
 this work, when it was all done? He, too, conceived the 
 idea that his "destiny" pointed onward to universal do- 
 
246 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 
 
 minion. France was too small; Europe, he thought, should 
 bow down before him. But as soon as this idea took posses- 
 sion of his soul he, too, became powerless. Just there, 
 while he witnessed the humiliation, and, doubtless, medi- 
 tated the subjugation of Russia, He who holds the winds in 
 his fist gathered the snows of the north, and blew them 
 upon his six hundred thousand men. They died, they froze, 
 they perished. And now the mighty Napoleon. ... He 
 has found "room" at last. And France,^ s/?g, too, has 
 found " room." Her eagles now no longer scream along 
 the banks of the Danube, the Po, and the Borysthenes. 
 They have returned home to their old eyrie, between the 
 Alps, the Rhine, and the Pyrenees. 
 
 So shall it be with yours. You may carry them to the 
 loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras, they may wave in insolent 
 triumph in the halls of the Montezumas, the armed men of 
 Mexico may quail before them, — but the weakest hand in 
 Mexico, uplifted in prayer to the God of justice, may call 
 down against you a Power, in the presence of which the 
 iron hearts of your warriors shall be turned into ashes! 
 
 57. HAMLET'S INSTRUCTIONS.— *S^afoj9eare. 
 
 Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, 
 trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of 
 your players do, I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines. 
 And do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but 
 use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I 
 may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and 
 beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh, it 
 offends me to the soul to hear a robustious, periwig-pated 
 fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the 
 ears of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable 
 of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise. I would 
 have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it 
 out-herods Herod: pray you avoid it. 
 
 I 
 
SELECTIONS POR DECLAMATION". 247 
 
 Be not too tame either, but let your own discretion 
 be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the 
 action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not 
 the modesty of Nature; for anything so overdone is from 
 the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first, and 
 now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Na- 
 ture, to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, 
 and the very age and body of the time his form and press- 
 ure. Now, this overdone, or come tardy off, though it 
 make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious 
 grieve; the censure of the which one must, in your allow- 
 ance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh, there be 
 players that I have seen play — and heard others praise, and 
 that highly — not to speak it profanely, that, neither having 
 the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, 
 or man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought 
 some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made 
 them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. 
 
 218, Demonstrative and Diffusive. The following selec- 
 tions begin with median stress (§ 102) and orotund quality {§ 137); 
 they end with terminal stress (§ 101) and the aspirated orotund 
 (§ 138). 
 
 58. IGNORANCE IN OUR COUNTRY A CRIM-E.— Horace Mann. 
 
 In all the dungeons of the Old World, where the strong champions 
 of freedom are now pining in captivity beneath the remorseless 
 power of the tyrant, the morning sun does not send a glimmering 
 ray into their cells, nor does night draw a thicker veil of darkness 
 between them and the world, but the lone prisoner lifts his iron-laden 
 
 1 L o 
 arms to heaven in prayer that w6, the depositaries of freedom and of 
 
 1 LO 
 human hopes, may be faithful to our sacred trust; — while, on the 
 
 w m RC 
 other hand, the pensioned advocates of despotism stand, with listen- 
 
 tr and slowly to m 
 
 ing ear, to catch the first sound of lawless violence that is wafted 
 s RC wm RC tobrCF 
 
 from our shores, to note the first breach of faith or act of perfidy 
 
248 orator's makual. 
 
 w to 1 bk R C 
 
 amongst us, and to convert them into arguments against | liberty 
 
 and the rights | of man. 
 
 There is not a shout sent up by an insane mob, on this side of the 
 1 L o s 
 
 Atlantic, but it is echoed by a thousand | presses and by ten | thou- 
 
 L O hsLC msC 
 
 sand I tongues along every mountain | and valley, on the other, 
 w . m L C tr to opposite f 
 
 There is not a conflagration | kindled | here | by the ruthless hand of 
 and w toms LCms LC h 
 
 Violence, but its flame | glares over all | Europe, from horizon | to 
 s LCP 
 zenith. On each occurrence of a flagitious scene, whether it be an 
 
 act of tQrbulence | and devastation, or a deed of perfidy | or breach 
 
 IRQ 
 of f^ith, monarchs | point them out as fruits of the growth 1 and 
 
 turn to m s R C w tr to C Ft on waist 
 
 omens of the fate | of republics, and claim for themselves and their 
 
 IRQ RO 
 
 heirs a further | extension | of the lease of despotism. 
 
 The experience of the ages that are past, the hopes of the ages 
 
 1 BO 
 
 that are yet to come, unite their voices in an appeal to us; they im- 
 f BO wide 
 
 plore us to think more of the character of our people than of its 
 BO w m L C 
 
 numbers; to look upon our vast | natural | resources, not as tempt- 
 to _ s c ^ 
 ers to ostentation and pride, but as a means to be converted, by the 
 
 m L O m LO 
 
 refining | alchemy of education, into mental | and spiritual | treas- 
 ures; they supplicate us to seek for whatever complacency or self- 
 
 w R C to m 
 
 satisfaction | we are disposed to indulge, not in the extent | of our 
 
 s RC tomsRC prone 
 
 territory, or in the products | of our soil, but in the expansion | and 
 
 1 RO 
 
 perpetuation | of the means of human | happiness; they beseech us 
 
 B O 
 to exchange the luxuries of sense | for the joys of charity, and thus 
 
 wide BO h B O 
 
 give to the world the example of a nation whose wisdom | increases 
 m BO 1 f B O 1 wide "BO 
 
 with its prosperity, and whose virtues | are equal to its power. For 
 
 these ends they enjoin upon us a more earnest, a more universal, a 
 
 more religious devotion of our exertions and resources to the culture | 
 
 i 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 249 
 
 1 RO w tobr CF w 
 
 of the youthful | mind and heart of the nation. Their g-athered | 
 
 to m R O ^ IRQ 
 
 voices I assert | the eternal | truth that, in a Repi^iblic, ignorance \ 
 
 1 RO 
 
 is a crime; and that private | immorality is not less an opprobrium 
 
 1 B O 1 BO 
 
 to the state than it is guilt | in the perpetrator. 
 
 59. CHARACTER OF WASB.mGT 01^. -Charles Phillips. 
 
 Sir, it matters very little what immediate spot may have 
 been the birthplace of such a man as Washington. No peo- 
 ple can claim, no country can appropriate him. The boon 
 of Providence to the human race, his fame is eternity, and 
 his residence creation. Though it v^as the defeat of our 
 arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the con- 
 vulsion in v^hich he had his origin. If the heavens thun- 
 dered, and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm had past, 
 how pure was the climate that it cleared ! how bright in the 
 brow of the firmament was the planet which it revealed to 
 us! 
 
 In the production of Washington it does really appear as 
 if Nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that 
 all the virtues of the ancient world were but so many stud- 
 ies preparatory to the patriot of the new. Individual in- 
 stances, no doubt, there were, splendid exemplifications of 
 some single qualification: Caesar was merciful, Scipio was 
 continent, Hannibal was patient; but it was reserved for 
 Washington to blend them all in one, and, like the lovely 
 masterpiece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit, in one glow of 
 associated beauty, the pride of every model and the perfec- 
 tion of every master. 
 
 As a general, he marshaled the peasant into a veteran, 
 and supplied, by discipline, the absence of experience; as 
 a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into 
 the most comprehensive system of general advantage; and 
 such was the wisdom of his views and the philosophy of his 
 
250 orator's manual. 
 
 counsels, that to the soldier and the statesman he almost 
 added the character of the sage! A conqueror, he was un- 
 tainted with the crime of blood; a revolutionist, he was 
 free from any stain of treason; for aggression commenced 
 the contest, and his country called him to the command. 
 Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory re- 
 turned it. 
 
 If he had paused here, history might have doubted what 
 station to assign him; whether at the head of her citizens, 
 or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the last 
 glorious act crowns his career and banishes all hesitation. 
 Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a hemi- 
 sphere, resigned its crown and preferred the retirement of 
 domestic life to the adoration of a land he might be almost 
 said to have created? 
 
 Happy, proud America! The lightnings of heaven yielded 
 to your philosophy! The temptations of earth could not 
 seduce your patriotism ! 
 
 60. DESTINY OF AMERICA.— C^ar^es Phillips. 
 
 Search creation round, where can you find a country 
 that presents so sublime a view, so interesting an anticipa- 
 tion? Who shall say for what purpose mysterious Provi- 
 dence may not have designed her! Who shall say that when 
 in its follies or its crimes, the old world may have buried 
 all the pride of its power, and all the pomp of its civiliza- 
 tion, human nature may not find its destined renovation in 
 the new! When its temples and its trophies shall have 
 mouldered into dust, — when the glories of its name shall be 
 but the legend of tradition, and the light of its achieve- 
 ments live only in song, philosophy will revive again in the 
 sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle at the urn of her 
 Washington. 
 
 Is this the vision of romantic fancy? Is it even im- 
 probable? I appeal to history! Tell me, thou reverend 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 251 
 
 chronicler of the grave, can all the illusions of ambition 
 realized, can all the wealth of a universal commerce, can all 
 the achievements of successful heroism, or all the estab- 
 lishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the per- 
 manency of its possessions? Alas, Troy thought so once; 
 yet the land of Priam lives only in song! Thebes thought 
 so once; yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her very 
 tombs are but as the dust they were vainly intended to 
 commemorate! So thought Palmyra — where is she! So 
 thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan; yet 
 Leonidas is trampled by the timid slave, and Athens in- 
 sulted by the servile, mindless, and enervate Ottoman! In 
 his hurried march, Time has but looked at their imagined 
 immortality, and all its vanities, from the palace to thfe 
 tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of 
 his footsteps! The days of their glory are as if they had 
 never been; and the island that was then a speck, rude and 
 neglected, in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of 
 their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their 
 philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the inspira- 
 tion of their bards! Who shall say, then, contemplating 
 the past, that England, proud and potent as she appears, 
 may not one day be what Athens is, and the young America 
 yet soar to be what Athens was ! Who shall say, when the 
 European column shall have mouldered, and the night of 
 barbarism obscured its very ruins, that that mighty conti- 
 nent may not emerge from the horizon, to rule, for its time, 
 sovereign of the ascendant! 
 
 61. EULOGY ON IjA.YA.Y^1}T!^.— Edward Everett. 
 
 There have been those who have denied to Lafayette the 
 name of a great man. What is greatness? Does goodness 
 belong to greatness, and make an essential part of it? If it 
 does, who, I would ask, of all the prominent names in his- 
 tory, has run through such a career with so little reproach, 
 
252 
 
 justly or unjustly bestowed? Are military courage and 
 conduct the measure of greatness? Lafayette was intrusted 
 by Washington with all kinds of service, — the laborious 
 and complicated, which required skill and patience; the 
 perilous, that demanded nerve: and we see him performing 
 all with entire success and brilliant reputation. Is the 
 readiness to meet vast responsibilities a proof of greatness? 
 The memoirs of Mr. Jefferson show us that there was a 
 moment, in 1789, when Lafayette took upon himself, as the 
 head of the military force, the entire responsibility of laying 
 down the basis of the Revolution. Is the cool and brave 
 administration of gigantic power a mark of greatness? in 
 all the whirlwind of the Revolution, and when, as com- 
 mander-in-chief of the National Guard, an organized force 
 of three millions of men, who, for any popular purpose,, 
 needed but a word, a look, to put them in motion, we be- 
 hold him ever calm, collected, disinterested; as free from 
 affectation as selfishness; clothed not less with humility 
 than with power. Is. the voluntary return, in advancing 
 years, to the direction of affairs, at a moment like that, 
 when, in 1815, the ponderous machinery of the French 
 Empire was flying asunder, — stunning, rending, crushing 
 thousands on every side, — a mark of greatness? Lastly, is 
 it any proof of greatness to-be able, at the age of seventy- 
 three, to take the lead in a successful and bloodless revolu- 
 tion; to change the dynasty; to organize, exercise and abdi- 
 cate a military command of three and a half millions of 
 men; to take up, to perform, and lay down the most mo- 
 mentous, delicate, and perilous duties, without passion, 
 without hurry, without selfishness? Is it great to disregard 
 the bribes of title, office, money; to live, to labor and suffer 
 for great public ends alone; to adhere to principle under 
 all circumstances; to stand before Europe and America 
 conspicuous, for sixty years, in the most responsible stations 
 the acknowledged admiration of all good men? 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 253 
 
 There is not, throughout the world, a friend of libertj' 
 who has not dropped his head when he has heard that La- 
 fayette is no more. Poland, Italy, Greece, Spain, Ireland 
 the South American republics — every country where maD 
 is struggling to recover his birthright, — have lost a bene- 
 factor, a patron, in Lafayette. And what was it, fellow- 
 citizens, which gave to our Lafayette his spotless fame? 
 The love of liberty. What has consecrated his memory in 
 the hearts of good men? The love of liberty. What nerved 
 his youthful arm with strength, and inspired him, in the 
 morning of his days, with sagacity and counsel? The living 
 love of liberty. To what did he sacrifice power, and rank, 
 and country, and freedom itself? To the horror of licen- 
 tiousness, — to the sanctity of plighted faith, — to the love 
 of liberty protected by law. Thus the great principle of 
 your Revolutionary fathers, and of your Pilgrim sires, was 
 the rule of his life — the love of lihertij protected by law. 
 
 62. THE TRUE KINGS OF THE EARTH.— Jo7m RnsJcin. 
 
 Mighty of heart, mighty of mind — "magnanimous" — 
 to be this is indeed to be great in life; to become this 
 unceasingly is indeed to " advance in life" — in life itself^ 
 not in the trappings of it. Do you remember that old 
 Scythian custom? How, when the head of a house died, 
 he was dressed in his finest dress, and set in his chariot, and 
 carried about to his friends' houses; and each of them 
 placed him at his table's head, and all feasted in his presence. 
 
 Suppose it were offered to you in plain words, as it is 
 offered to you in dire facts, that you should gain this 
 Scythian honor, gradually, while you yet thought yourself 
 alive. Suppose the offer were this: You shall die slowly; 
 your blood shall daily grow cold, your flesh petrify, your 
 heart beat at last only as a rusty group of iron valves. 
 Your life shall fade from you, and sink through the earth 
 into the ice of Caina; but, day by day, your body shalJ 
 
254 
 
 be dressed more gaily, and set in higher chariots, and 
 have more orders on its breast — crowns on its head, if 
 you will. Men shall bow before it, stare and shout round 
 it; crowd after it up and down the streets; build palaces 
 for it; feast with it at their tables' heads all the night long; 
 your soul shall stay enough within it to know what they do, 
 and to feel the weight of the golden dress on its shoulders, 
 and the furrow of the crown edge on the skull — no more. 
 Would you take the offer verbally made by the death-angel? 
 Would the meanest among us take it, think you ? 
 
 Yet practically and verily we grasp at it, every one of 
 us, in a measure; many of us grasp at it in its fullness of 
 horror. Every man accepts it, who desires to advance in 
 life without knowing what life is; who means only that he 
 is to get more horses, and more servants, and more fortune, 
 and more public honor, and — not more personal soul. He 
 only is advancing in life whose heart is getting softer, whose 
 blood warmer, whose brain quicker, whose spirit is entering 
 into living peace. And the men who have this life in them 
 are the true lords or kings of the earth — they, and they 
 only. 
 
 63. THE AMERICAN FLAG.—/. R. Brake. 
 
 When Freedom from her mountain height 
 
 Unfurled her standard to the air, 
 She tore the azure robe of night, 
 
 And set the stars of glory there: 
 She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
 The milky baldric of the skies, 
 And striped its pure celestial white 
 With streakings of the morning light; 
 Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
 She called her eagle-bearer down, 
 And gave into his mighty hand 
 The symbol of her chosen land. 
 
 Majestic monarch of the cloud! 
 Who rear'st aloft thy regal form. 
 
SELECTIOi^S FOR DECLAMATION. 255 
 
 To hear the tempest-trumpings loud 
 
 And see the lightning lances driven, 
 When strive the warriors of the storm, 
 
 And rolls the thunder — drum of heaven, — 
 Child of the Sun ! to thee 'tis given 
 
 To guard the banner of the free; 
 To hover in the sulphur-smoke. 
 To ward away the battle-stroke, 
 And bid its blendings shine afar, 
 Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
 
 The harbingers of victory! 
 
 Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly. 
 The sign of hope and triumph high, 
 When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 
 And the long line comes gleaming on. 
 Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet. 
 Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 
 Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
 To where thy sky-born glories burn; 
 And, as his springing steps advance, 
 Catch war and vengeance from the glance: 
 And, when the cannon-mouthings loud 
 Heave in wild wreaths the battle- shroud. 
 And gory sabres rise and fall 
 Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall. 
 Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 
 
 And cowering foes shall fall beneath 
 Each gallant arm that strikes below 
 
 That lovely messenger of death. 
 
 Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave 
 Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave. 
 When Death, careering on the gale. 
 Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 
 And frighted waves rush wildly back. 
 Before the broadside's reeling rack. 
 Each dying wanderer of the sea 
 Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
 And smile to see thy splendors fly, 
 In triumph, o'er his closing eye. 
 
256 orator's manual. 
 
 Flag of the free heart's hope and home! 
 
 By angel hands to Valor given ! 
 Thy stars have lit the v^elkin dome, 
 
 And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
 Forpver float that standard sheet! 
 
 Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
 With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 
 
 And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? 
 
 64. LOOK ALOFT.-J. Lawrence. 
 
 In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale 
 Are around and above, if thy footing should fail — 
 If thine eyes should grow dim, and thy caution depart — 
 "Look aloft," and be firm, and be fearless of heart. 
 
 If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow. 
 With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe, 
 Should betray thee when sorrows, like clouds, are arrayed, 
 " Look aloft " to the friendship which never shall fade. 
 
 Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, 
 Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, 
 Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, 
 " Look zldit " to the sun that is never to set. 
 
 Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart — 
 Thy friends and companions — in sorrow depart, 
 " Look aloft " from the darkness and dust of the tomb, 
 To that soil where " affection is ever in bloom." 
 
 And oh, when Death comes in his terrors, to cast 
 His fears on the future, his pall on the past. 
 In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart. 
 And a smile in thine eye, " Look aloft," and depart. 
 
 65. FALL of WARSAW, ViM.— Thomas Campbell. 
 
 sacred Truth ! thy triumph ceased awhile. 
 And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, 
 When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars 
 Her whiskered pandours and her fierce hussars 
 Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
 Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn: 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 257 
 
 Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
 Presaging- wrath to Poland — and to man! 
 
 Warsaw's last champion from her heights surveyed 
 Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid — 
 Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save! 
 Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? 
 Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
 Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! 
 By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 
 And swear for her to live ! — with her to die ! 
 
 He said ; and on the rampart heights arrayed 
 His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; 
 Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm; 
 Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, — 
 "Revenge, or death! " — the watchword and reply; 
 Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm. 
 And the load tocsin tolled their last alarm! 
 
 In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! 
 From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew; — 
 Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, 
 Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime; 
 Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe. 
 Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! 
 Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, 
 Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career. 
 Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell. 
 And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko fell! 
 
 righteous Heaven ! ere Freedom found a grave, 
 Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save ? 
 Where was thine arm, Vengeance! where thy rod, 
 That smote the foes of Sion and of God ? 
 
 Departed spirits of the mighty dead! 
 Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! 
 Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, 
 Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van! 
 Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone. 
 And make her arm puissant as your own! 
 Oh, once again to Freedom's cause return 
 The patriot Tell, — the Bruce of Bannockbum! 
 11* 
 
258 orator's manual. 
 
 Yes, thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall see 
 That man hath yet a soul, — and dare be free! 
 A little while, along thy saddening plains, 
 The starless night of Desolation reigns; 
 Truth shall restore the light by Nature given. 
 And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of heaven! 
 Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled, 
 Her name, her nature, withered from the world ! 
 
 219. Illustrative: References to man and nature. As a 
 
 rule, on objects referred to, use a downward bend or inflection (§ 50), 
 and sometimes the circumflex (§§ 69, 70). These objects should be 
 articulated distinctly, which will tend to make the predominating 
 Terminal stress (§ 101) short and sharp, or change it to Initial 
 (§ 100). When, again, there is much Drift (§ 154), the Terminal 
 will become Median stress (§ 102). 
 Orotund Quality (§135). 
 
 66. SUFFERINGS AND DESTINY OF THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 Edward Everett. 
 
 Methinks I see it now, that one | solitary, | adventurous vessel, 
 the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a 
 future I state, and bound across the unknown | s^a. I behold it 
 pursuing, with a thousand | misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious 
 
 m s R C up and prone w R C to br w 
 
 voyage. Suns | rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and win- 
 mRC to msC wmC to f 
 
 ter surprises them on the d^ep, but brings them not the sight of the 
 
 m R C ^ 
 
 wished-for shore. I see them now, scantily | supplied with provi- 
 sions, crowded almost to suffocation | in their ill-stored prison, de- 
 
 m ^ tr R C and w to m f R C 
 layed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now driven in fury 
 
 h R C h R C pr 
 
 before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy wave. The awful 
 h RC ^ , li?C R 
 
 voice of the storm howls through the rigging; the laboring masts 
 O down to 1 RC 1 L O 
 
 seem straining from their base; the dismal sound of the pumps is 
 1 L O 1 L O ^ higher m O m O w 
 
 heard; the ship leaps, as it were, madly, from billow to billow; the 
 mtrLC wlLCtols LC 
 
 ocean breaks, and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating 
 1 L C 1 LC 1 LC 
 
 d^ck, and beats, with deadening, shivering weight, against the 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION-. 259 
 
 1 L C 
 
 staggered v&ssel, I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing 
 
 their all but desperate | undertaking, and landed, at last, after a 
 
 1 BO 
 
 few I months' | passage, on the ice-clad rocks | of Plymouth, — 
 
 wider B O wide 
 
 weak I and weary | from the voyage, | poorly | armed, | scantily | 
 BO^ w h B CwlBC wmsBC 
 
 provisioned, without | shelter, without | m^ans, surrounded by hos- 
 tile tribes. 
 
 Shut, now, the volume of history, and te^ll me, on any principle 
 
 of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of ad- 
 
 1 tr w R o 
 
 venturers? T^ll me, man of military science, in how many months 
 
 w s R C 
 
 were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated 
 
 1 tr w L o 
 within the early limits of New England. Tell me, politician, how 
 
 long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and 
 w s L C ^ 1 tr w B 
 
 treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of 
 
 O BO B C B 
 
 history, compare for me the baffled | projects, the deserted | s^ttle- 
 
 C B C ' 
 
 ments, the abandoned I adventures, of other I times, and find the 
 
 B O 
 
 parallel | of this! Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the house- 
 less I heads of women and children ? was it hard | labor and spare | 
 m^als? was it disease? was it the tomahawk? was it the deep | 
 malady of a blighted | hope, a ruined | Enterprise, and a broken | 
 
 heart, | aching, in its last | moments, at the recollection of the 
 
 If RO s RO ^ w 
 
 loved and left, beyond the sEa? — was it some, or all of these united, 
 
 IRC to msRC msRC^ 
 
 that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? And 
 
 wsC 1 BO BO^ 
 
 is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all | combined, 
 
 wis 1 R o 
 
 were able to blast | this bud | of hope ! Is it possible that from a 
 
 w m s C 
 
 beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so much of admiration 
 1 R O f B O wider 
 
 as of pity, there has gone forth a progress | so steady, a growth | so 
 
 BO h and wider BO 1 BO 
 
 wonderful, | an expansion | so ample, a reality | so important, a 
 
 h BO m BO 
 
 ijromise, yet to be fulfilled, | so glorious! 
 
260 OEATOR'S MAl^UAL. 
 
 67. NATIONS AND HUMANITY.— G^eo. W. Curtis. 
 
 It was not his olive valleys and orange groves which made 
 the Greece of the Greek, it was not for his apple orchards 
 or potato fields that the farmer of New England and New 
 York left his plough in the furrow and marched to Bunker 
 Hill, to Bennington, to Saratoga. A man's country is not 
 a certain area of land, but it is a principle; and patriotism 
 is loyalty to that principle. The secret sanctification of the 
 soil and symbol of a country is the idea which they repre- 
 sent; and this idea the patriot worships through the name 
 and the symbol. 
 
 So with passionate heroism, of which tradition is never 
 weary of tenderly telling, Arnold von Winkelried gathers 
 into his bosom the sheaf of foreign spears. So, Nathan 
 Hale, disdaining no service that duty demands, perishes 
 untimely with no other friend than God and the satisfied 
 sense of duty. So, through all history from the beginning, 
 a noble army of martyrs has fought fiercely, and fallen 
 bravely, for that unseen mistress, their country. So, 
 through all history to the end, that army must still march, 
 and fight, and fall. 
 
 But countries and families are but nurseries and influ- 
 ences. A man is a father, a brother, a German, a Roman, 
 an American ; but beneath all these relations, he is a man. 
 The end of his human destiny is not to be the best German, 
 or the best Roman, or the best father; but the best man he 
 can be. 
 
 History shows us that the association of men in various 
 nations is made subservient to the gradual advance of the 
 whole human race ; and that all nations work together to- 
 ward one grand result. So, to the iDhilosophic eye, the race 
 is but a vast caravan forever moving, but seeming often to 
 encamp for centuries at some green oasis of ease, where lux- 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLA:MATrON'. 261 
 
 ury lures away heroism, as soft Capua enervated the hosts 
 of Hannibal. 
 
 But still the march proceeds, — slowly, slowly over 
 mountains, through valleys, along plains, marking its 
 course with monumental splendors, with wars, plagues, 
 crimes, advancing still, decorated with all the pomp of 
 nature, lit by the constellations, cheered by the future, 
 warned by the past. In that vast march, the van forgets 
 the rear; the individual is lost; and yet the multitude is 
 but many individuals. The man faints, and falls, and dies, 
 and is forgotten; but still mankind moves on, still worlds 
 revolve, and the will of God is done in earth and heaven. 
 
 We of America, with our soil sanctified and our symbol 
 glorified by the great ideas of liberty and religion, — love of 
 freedom and love of God, — are in the foremost vanguard of 
 this great caravan of humanity. To us rulers look, and 
 learn justice, while they tremble; to us the nations look, 
 and learn to hope, while they rejoice. Our heritage is all 
 the love and heroism of liberty in the past; and all the 
 great of the Old World are our teachers. 
 
 Our faith is in God and the Right; and God himself is, 
 we believe, our Guide and Leader. Though darkness some- 
 times shadows our national sky, though confusion comes 
 from error, and success breeds corruption, yet will the 
 storm pass in God's good time, and in clearer sky and purer 
 atmosphere our national life grow stronger and nobler, 
 sanctified more and more, consecrated to God and liberty by 
 the martyrs who fall in the strife for the just and true. 
 
 And so, with our individual hearts strong in love for our 
 principles, strong in faith in our God, shall the nation leave 
 to coming generations a heritage of freedom, and law, and 
 religion, and truth, more glorious than the world has 
 known before; and our American banner be planted first 
 and highest on heights as yet unwon in the great march of 
 humanity. 
 
262 oeator's manual. 
 
 68. AN APPEAL TO THE FEOPL^.-John Bright. 
 
 Our opponents have charged us with being the promot- 
 ers of a dangerous excitement. They have the effrontery 
 to say that I am the friend of public disorder. I am one of 
 the people. Surely, if there be one thing in a free country 
 more clear than another, it is that any one of the people 
 may speak openly to the pec^ple. If I speak to the people 
 of their rights, and indicate to them the way to secure 
 them, — if I speak of their danger to the monopolists of 
 power, — am I not a wise counselor, both to the people and 
 to their rulers? 
 
 Suppose I stood at the foot of Vesuvius, or ^tna, and, 
 seeing a hamlet or a homestead planted on its slope, I said 
 to the dwellers in that hamlet, or in that homestead, " You 
 see that vapor which ascends from the summit of the 
 mountain: that vapor may become a dense, black smoke, 
 that will obscure the sky. You see the trickling of lava 
 from the crevices in the side of the mountain: that trickl- 
 ing of lava may become a river of fire. You hear that 
 muttering in the bowels of the mountain: that muttering 
 may become a bellowing thunder, the voice of a violent 
 convulsion, that may shake half a continent. You know 
 that at your feet is the grave of great cities, for which 
 there is no resurrection, as histories tell us that dynasties 
 and aristocracies have passed away, and their names have 
 been known no more forever." 
 
 If I say this to the dwellers upon the slope of the mount- 
 ain, and if there comes hereafter a catastrophe which makes 
 the world to shudder, am I responsible for that catastrophe? 
 I did not build the mountain, or fill it with explosive mate- 
 rials. I merely warned the men that were in danger. So, 
 now, it is not I who am stimulating men to the violent pur- 
 suit of their acknowledged constitutional rights. 
 
 The class which has hitherto ruled in this country has 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 263 
 
 failed miserably. It revels in power and wealth, w^iilst at 
 its feet, a terrible peril for its future, lies tlie multitude 
 which it has neglected. If a class has failed, let us try the 
 nation. 
 
 That is our faith, that is our purpose, that is our cry. 
 Let us try the nation. This it is which has called together 
 these countless numbers of the people to demand a change; 
 and from these gatherings, sublime in their vastness and 
 their resolution, I think I see, as it were, above the hill- 
 tops of time, the glimmerings of the dawn of a better and 
 a nobler day for the country and for the people that I love 
 so well. 
 
 DIGNIFIED AND GRAVE. 
 
 220. Predominating time slow; pitch low; force moderate (§ 116), 
 effusive (§ 112) and expulsive (§§ 115, 119); stress median (§ 102) 
 and in strong passages terminal (§ 101); quality orotund (§ 135). 
 
 69. GALILEO GKLTLEl.— Edward Everett* 
 
 (P) There is much | in every way | in the city 1 of Florence | to 
 excite | the curiosity, | kindle | the imagination, and gratify | the 
 t^ste; but among all \ its fascinations, | addressed to the s^nse, the 
 memory, and the h^art, there was none to which I more frequently 
 gave a meditative | hour, | during a year's | residence, | than to the 
 
 w 1 R O 
 
 spot I where Galileo | Galilei | sleeps | beneath the marble | floor | of 
 
 1 R C w m R C tr 
 
 Santa Croce; no building on which I gazed with greater | reverence | 
 
 and to m s R C 
 
 than I did upon that modest | mansion at Arcetri; villa once and 
 
 prison, in which that venerable | sage, | by the command of the In- 
 
 m s C prone 
 quisition, passed the sad | closing years of his life. 
 
 Of all the wonders | of ancient [ and modem | art, statues | and 
 paintings, jewels | and manuscripts, the admiration | and delight | 
 of ages, there was nothing I beheld with more affectionate | awe | 
 
 w 1 L ^ O h 
 
 than that poor | little spy-glass, through which the human eye first j 
 * This Selection belongs in § 219. 
 
264 
 
 L C F change 
 
 pierced | the clouds [ of visual | error, which | from the creation | 
 
 to m s f L C and drop 
 
 of the world | had involved | the system | of the Universe. 
 
 There are occasions in life | in which great | minds | live y^ars 
 
 of rapt I enjoyment | in a moment. {0)1 can fancy the emotions of 
 
 hRCF 
 f Galileo, when, first | raising | the newly-constructed telescope 1 
 
 change to h R C 
 
 to the heavens, he saw fulfilled the grand | prophecy | of Coper- 
 change to h C F h C 
 nicus, and beheld the planet Y^nus, cr&scent like the moon. (A 0) 
 
 It Wcis such another moment as that 1 when the immortal printers 
 
 1 f L O 
 of M^ntz and Str^sburg received the first copy of the Bible into 
 
 1 s LO lift f LC 
 
 their h^nds; like that, when Columbus, through the gray | dawn 
 
 m f LC 
 of the 13th of October, 1492, first beheld the shores of San Salva- 
 
 down 1 R O 
 
 dor; like that when Le V&rrier received back from Berlin the 
 
 RCF 
 tidings that the predicted planet was found. 
 
 1 LO 1 LO 
 
 ff (0) Y^s! noble Galileo! thou wast right: "It do^s move." 
 
 1 BO BO 
 Bigots may make thee recant it; but it moves | still. {A 0) Yes, 
 
 h R C F w to tr R C 
 
 the earth | moves; and the planets move; and the mighty waters 
 
 wmRCto ms RC w 
 
 move; and the great sweeping | tides of air move; and the em- 
 tobrRC wmRC tomsRC and f 
 
 pires of m^n move; and the world of thought moves ever | on- 
 RC and to h R C h R C^ whsRC 
 
 ward I and ever | upward | to higher facts and bolder theories. 
 hsRC drop sRC prone 
 
 P (0) Hang up || that poor \ little | spy-glass; it has done | its 
 
 work. 
 
 Franciscans and Dominicans may deride | thy discoveries | 
 
 / now; {A 0) but the time will come | when from two | hundred | 
 
 observatories, | in Europe and America, | the glorious | artillery | 
 
 hfBC whBCto 
 
 X/'of science ] shall nightly assault the skies; but they shall gain no | 
 
 hsBC wmBO and 
 
 conquests ] in those glittering fields, before which thine shall be 
 
 down 
 forgotten. 
 
 m BO 
 / (0) Rest in p^ace, great | Columbus | of the heavens! like 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOX. 265 
 
 wmBCwmBCwmBC 
 him I scorned, | persecuted, | broken-hearted. In other | ages, in 
 
 distant | hemispheres, when the votaries of science, with solemn | 
 
 lift BO to 
 
 acts of consecration, shall dedicate their stately edifices to the 
 
 h BO 1 BO 
 
 cause of knowledge and of truth, | thy name | shall be men- 
 tioned I with honor. 
 
 70. CRIME ITS OWN DETECTOR.— iJanie^ Webster. 
 
 Gentlemen: This is a most extraordinary case. An aged 
 man, without an enemy in the world, in his own house, and 
 in his own bed, is made the victim of a butcherly murder 
 for mere pay. Deep sleep has fallen on the destined vic- 
 ti^l, and on all beneath his roof. 
 
 The assassin enters through the window, already pre- 
 pared, into an unoccupied apartment; with noiseless foot 
 he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon; he winds 
 up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the 
 chamber. Of this he moves the lock, by soft and continued 
 pressure, till it turns on its hinges; and he enters and be- 
 holds his victim before him. The room is uncommonly 
 light. The face of the innocent sleeper is turned from the 
 murderer; and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray 
 locks of his aged temple, show him where to strike. The 
 fatal blow is given, and the victim passes, without a 
 struggle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose 
 of death! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work; 
 and he yet plies the dagger, though it is obvious that life 
 had been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even 
 raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the 
 heart, and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard! 
 To finish the picture, he explores the wrist for the pulse! 
 He feels it, and ascertains that it beats no longer. It is 
 accomplished! The deed is done! He retreats, retraces 
 his steps to the window, passes through as he came in, and 
 13 
 
>66 
 
 escapes. He has done the murder; no eye has seen him, no 
 ear has heard him ; the secret is his own, and it is safe. 
 
 Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a 
 secret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has 
 neither nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it and 
 say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which pierces 
 through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the 
 splendor of noon, — such secrets of guilt are never safe; 
 " murder will out/' A thousand eyes turn at once to ex- 
 plore every man, every thing, every circumstance, connected 
 with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whis- 
 per; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the scene, 
 shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest 
 circumstance into a blaze of discovery. 
 
 Meantime the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It 
 is false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of 
 conscience to be true to itself. The secret which the mur- 
 derer possesses soon comes to possess him; and like the evil 
 spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him 
 whithersoever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, ris- 
 ing to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the 
 whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and al- 
 most hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. 
 It has become his master; — it betrays his discretion; it 
 breaks down his courage; it conquers his prudence. When 
 suspicions, from without, begin to embarrass him, and the 
 net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret strug- 
 gles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be 
 confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from con- 
 fession but in suicide, and suicide is confession. 
 
 71. ADAMS AND JEYY^RSOT^ .—Edward Everett. 
 
 No, fellow-citizens, we dismiss not Adams and Jefferson 
 to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we ad- 
 mired, and prized, and venerated in them can never die, nor, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION?-. 267 
 
 dying, be forgotten. I had almost said that they are now 
 beginning to live, — to live that life of unimpaired influence, 
 of unclouded fame, of unmingled happiness, for which their 
 talents and services were destined. They were of the select 
 few, the least portion of whose life dwells in their physical 
 existence; whose hearts have watched while their senses 
 slept; whose souls have grown up into a higher being; 
 whose pleasure is to be useful; whose wealth is an unblem- 
 ished reputation; who respire the breath of honorable fame; 
 who have deliberately and consciously put what is called life 
 to hazard, that they may live in the hearts of those who 
 come after. Such men do not, can not die. 
 
 To be cold, and motionless, and breathless; to feel not 
 and speak not: this is not the end of existence to the men 
 who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their 
 country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of 
 the age, who have poured their heart's blood into the chan- 
 nels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the 
 sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not 
 still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant 
 heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplen- 
 dent over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon 
 his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? 
 
 Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the 
 shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold 
 and narrow house? That which made these men, and men 
 like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of 
 independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that 
 sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived, 
 resolved, matured, maintained it, and which alone, to such 
 men, "make it life to live," these cannot expire: 
 
 *' These shall resist the empire of decay, 
 When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away: 
 Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
 But that which warmed it once can never die." 
 
268 oratoe's makual. 
 
 72. DEATH OF COPERNICUS.— ^c^warc^ Everett. 
 
 At length he draws near his end. He is seventy-three 
 years of age, and he yields his work on " The Revolutions 
 of the Heavenly Orbs " to his friends for publication. The 
 day at last has come on which it is to be ushered into the 
 world. It is the 24th of May, 1543. 
 
 On that day — the effect, no doubt, of the intense excite- 
 ment of his mind, operating upon an exhausted frame — an 
 effusion of blood brings him to the gates of the grave. His 
 last hour has come ; he lies stretched upon the couch from 
 which he will never rise. 
 
 The beams of the setting sun glance through the Gothic 
 windows of his chamber; near his bedside is the armillary 
 sphere which he has contrived to represent his theory of the 
 heavens; his picture painted by himself, the amusement of 
 his earlier years, hangs before him ; beneath it are his astro- 
 labe and other imperfect astronomical instruments; and 
 around him are gathered his sorrowing disciples. 
 
 The door of the apartment opens; the eye of the depart- 
 ing sage is turned to see who enters: it is a friend who 
 brings him the first printed copy of his immortal treatise. 
 He knows that in that book he contradicts all that has ever 
 been distinctly taught by former philosophers; he knows 
 that he has rebelled against the sway of Ptolemy, which 
 the scientific w^orld has acknowledged for a thousand years; 
 he knows that the popular mind will be shocked by his in- 
 novations; he knows that the attempt will be made to press 
 even religion into the service against him; but he knows 
 that his book is true. 
 
 He is dying, but he leaves a glorious truth as his dying 
 bequest to the world. He bids the friend who has brought 
 it place himself between the window and his bedside, that 
 the sun's rays may fall upon the precious volume, and he 
 may behold it once more before his eye grows dim. He 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 269 
 
 looks upon it, takes it in his hands, presses it to his breast, 
 and expires. 
 
 But no, he is not wholly gone. A smile lights up his 
 dying countenance; a beam of returning intelligence kindles 
 in his eye; his lips move; and the friend who leans over 
 him can hear him faintly murmur the beautiful sentiments 
 which the Christian lyrist of a later age has so finely ex- 
 pressed in verse: 
 
 " Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, with all your feeble light; 
 Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, pale empress of the night; 
 And thou, effulgent orb of day, in brighter flames arrayed; 
 My soul, which springs beyond thy sphere, no more demands thy 
 
 aid. 
 Ye stars are but the shining dust of my divine abode, 
 The pavement of those heavenly courts where I shall reign with 
 
 God." 
 
 So died the great Columbus of the heavens. 
 
 73. SPEECH OF VINDICATION.— i?o6er^ Emmett. 
 
 My Lords: What have I to say why sentence of death 
 should not be pronounced on me, according to law? — I have 
 nothing to say that can alter your predetermination, nor 
 that it will become me to say, with any viev^ to the mitiga- 
 tion of that sentence which you are here to pronounce, and 
 I must abide by. But I have that to say which interests 
 me more than life, and which you have labored to destroy. 
 I have much to say why my reputation should be rescued 
 from the load of false accusation and calumny which has 
 been heaped upon it. 
 
 Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty 
 by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate 
 that awaits me without a murmur; but the sentence of law 
 which delivers my body to the executioner will, through the 
 ministry of that law, labor, in its own vindication, to con- 
 sign my character to obloquy; for there must be guilt some- 
 
270 orator's manual. 
 
 where — whether in the sentence of the court, or in the 
 catastrophe, posterity must determine. The man dies, but 
 his memory lives. That mine may not perish, — that it may 
 live in the respect of my countrymen, — I seize upon this 
 opportunity to vindicate myself from some of the charges 
 alleged against me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a 
 more friendly port; when my shade shall have joined the 
 bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood, 
 on the scaffold and in the field, in defense of their country 
 and virtue; this is my hope, — I wish that my memory and 
 name may animate those who survive me, while I look down 
 with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious gov- 
 ernment which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the 
 Most High, which displays its power over man as over the 
 beast of the forest, which sets man upon his brother, and 
 lifts his hand, in the name of God, against the throat of his 
 fellow, who believes or doubts a little more or less than the 
 government standard, — a government which is steeled to 
 barbarity by the cries of the orphans and the tears of the 
 widows, which its cruelty has made. 
 
 T swear, by the throne of Heaven, before which I must 
 shortly appear, — by the blood of the murdered patriots who 
 have gone before me, — that my conduct has been, through 
 all this peril, and all my purposes, governed only by the 
 convictions which I have uttered, and no other view than 
 that of the emancipation of my country from the super- 
 inhuman oppression under which she has so long, and too 
 patiently, travailed; and that I confidently and assuredly 
 hope (wild and chimerical as it may appear) there is still 
 union and strength in Ireland to accomplish this noble 
 enterprise. 
 
 I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor for 
 the same reason that I would resist the domestic tyrant; in 
 the dignity of freedom I would have fought upon the 
 threshold of my country, and her enemies should enter only 
 
SELECTIOi^S rOR DECLAMATION". 271 
 
 by passing over my lifeless corpse. Am I, who lived but for 
 my country, and who have subjected myself to the ven- 
 geance of the jealous and wrathful oppressor, and to the 
 bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen their 
 rights, — am I to be loaded with calumny, and not to be 
 suffered to resent or repel it? No! — God forbid! 
 
 My Lords, you are all impatient for the sacrifice. The 
 blood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial 
 terrors which surround your victim; it circulates warmly 
 and unrufiled, through the channels which God created for 
 noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy, for pur- 
 poses so grievous that they cry to heaven! Be yet patient! 
 I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my 
 silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; my 
 race is run; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into 
 its bosom, I have but one request to ask at my departure 
 from this world, — it is the charity of its silence. Let no 
 man write my epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my motives 
 dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance 
 asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and 
 peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times, 
 and other men, can do justice to my character. When my 
 country shall take her place among the nations of the earth, 
 then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written ! 
 
 74. DEATH OF JOHN Q. ADAMS.-7. E. Holmes. 
 
 Mk. Speaker: The mingled tones of sorrow, like the voice 
 of many waters, have come unto us from a sister state — 
 Massachusetts, weeping for her honored son. The state I 
 have the honor in part to represent once endured, with 
 yours, a common suffering, battled for a common cause, and 
 rejoiced in a common triumph. Surely, then, it is meet 
 that in this the day of your afiliction we should mingle our 
 griefs. 
 
272 obator's manual. 
 
 When a great man falls, the nation mourns; when a 
 patriarch is removed, the people weep. Ours, my associates, 
 is no common bereavement. The chain which linked our 
 hearts with the gifted spirits of former times has been sud- 
 denly snapped. The lips from which flowed those living and 
 glorious truths that our fathers uttered are closed in death. 
 Yes, my friends, Death has been among us! He has not 
 entered the humble cottage of some unknown, ignoble peas- 
 ant; he has knocked audibly at the palace of a nation! His 
 footstep has been heard in the halls of state ! He has cloven 
 down his victim in the midst of the councils of a people. 
 He has borne in triumph from among you the gravest, 
 wisest, most reverend head. Ah! he has taken him as a 
 trophy who was once chief over many statesmen, adorned 
 with virtue, and learning, and truth; he has borne at his 
 chariot wheels a renowned one of the earth. 
 
 How often we have crowded into that aisle, and clustered 
 around that now vacant desk, to listen to the counsels of 
 wisdom as they fell from the lips of the venerable sage, we 
 can all remember, for it was but of yesterday. But what a 
 change! How wondrous! how sudden! 'Tis like a vision 
 of the night. That form which we beheld but a few days 
 since is now cold in death! 
 
 But the last Sabbath, and in this hall he worshiped with 
 others. Now his spirit mingles with the noble army of mar- 
 tyrs and the just made perfect, in the eternal adoration of 
 the living God. With him, " this is the end of earth." He 
 sleeps the sleep that knows no waking. He is gone — and 
 forever! The sun that ushers in the morn of that next 
 holy day, while it gilds the lofty dome of the capitol, shall 
 rest with soft and mellow light upcn the consecrated spot 
 beneath whose turf forever lies the Patriot Father and the 
 Patriot Sage, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^-. 273 
 
 DRAMATIC AXD DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 221. In these, Emphasis varies according: to the sentiment: me- 
 dian stress (§ 102) and natural (§§ 113-116) tending to sustained 
 (§§ 111. 112) force, unless something else is mentioned. 
 
 222. Fast Movement. 
 
 75. LOCHIXYAR-S RIDE.— ^^r Walter Scott. 
 Expulsive P. and 0., high pitch, varied melody. 
 
 Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West! 
 Through all the wide border his steed was the best; 
 And save his good broadsword he weapon had none; 
 He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. 
 So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
 There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 
 
 He staid not for brake, and he stopped not for stone; 
 He swam the Eske river where ford there was none; 
 But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 
 The bride had consented, — the gallant came late; 
 For a laggard in love, and a dastard m war, 
 Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 
 
 So boldly he entered the Netherby hall , 
 
 Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all. 
 
 Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, — 
 
 For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, — 
 
 "Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
 
 Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar? '* 
 
 "I long wooed your daughter; — my suit you denied: 
 Love swells like the Sol way, but ebbs like its tide; 
 And now I am come, with this lost love of mine 
 To lead but one measure, — drink one cup of wine. 
 There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, 
 That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 
 
 The bride kissed the goblet, the knight took it up; 
 He quaffed oflPthe wme, and he threw down the cup; 
 She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh. 
 With a smile on her Up, and a tear in her eye ; 
 
274 orator's manual. 
 
 He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar; — 
 " Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. 
 
 So stately his form and so lovely her face, 
 
 That never a hall such a galliard did grace; 
 
 While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 
 
 And the bridegroom stood danghng his bonnet and plume, 
 
 And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'twere better, by far. 
 
 To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 
 
 One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear. 
 
 When they reached the hall door, where the charger stood near; 
 
 So light to the croup the fair lady he swung. 
 
 So light to the saddle before her he sprung; — 
 
 "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; 
 
 They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar. 
 
 There was mounting 'mong Grsemes of the Netherby clan; 
 
 Fosters, Fenwicks and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; 
 
 There was racing and chasing on Cannobie lea, 
 
 But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
 
 So daring in love and so dauntless in war — 
 
 Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 
 
 76. HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT. 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 Explosive O., medium pitch, varied melody. 
 
 I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; 
 
 I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 
 
 *' Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; 
 
 *' Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; 
 
 Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, 
 
 And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 
 
 Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace 
 Neck by neck, stride for stride, never changing our place; 
 I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
 Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, — 
 Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 
 
SELECTiO^N'S FOR DECLAMATiOK. 275 
 
 'Twas moonset at starting:; but while we drew near 
 
 Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; 
 
 At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; 
 
 At DiifFeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; 
 
 And from Mecheln church- steeple we heard the half-chime. 
 
 So Joris broke silence with, " Yet there is time!" 
 
 At Aerschot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
 And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
 To stare through the mist at us galloping past, 
 And I saw my stout galloper Roland, at last. 
 With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
 The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray. 
 
 And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
 For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; 
 And one eye's black intelligence, — ever that glance 
 O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance. 
 And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
 His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. 
 
 By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! 
 Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, 
 We'll rememoer at Aix" — for one heard the quick wheeze 
 Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees 
 A-nd sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
 As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 
 
 So we were left galloping, Joris and I, 
 
 Past Looz and past Tongr^s, no cloud in the sky; 
 
 The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, 
 
 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 
 
 Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 
 
 And " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for Aix is in sight!" 
 
 ^* How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan 
 Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; 
 And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
 Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
 With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
 And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 
 
■ 
 
 276 orator's manual. 
 
 Then I cast loose my buff- coat, each holster let fall, 
 
 Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, 
 
 Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear. 
 
 Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; 
 
 Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, 
 
 Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. 
 
 And all I remember is, friends flocking round, 
 
 As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground, 
 
 And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 
 
 As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 
 
 Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 
 
 Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. 
 
 223. Moderately Fast Movement. 
 
 77. THE BATTLE OF lYRY.— Thomas B. Macaulay. 
 Explosive O., high pitch. 
 
 Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are! 
 And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre! 
 Now let there be the merry sound of music and the dance. 
 Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vales, pleasant land of 
 
 France ! 
 And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, 
 Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters; 
 As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 
 For cold and stiff and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy. 
 Hurrah! hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war. 
 Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry and King Henry of Navarre ! 
 
 The King has come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, 
 
 And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 
 
 He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; 
 
 He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stem and high. 
 
 Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, 
 
 Down all our line, in deafening shout, "God save our lord, the 
 
 King!" 
 "And if my standard-bearer fall, — as fall full well he may 
 For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, — * 
 Press where ye see my white plume shine, amid the ranks of war, 
 And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre." 
 
SELECTIONS POR DECLAMATION". 277 
 
 Hurrah ! the foes are moving ! Hark to the mingled din 
 
 Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin! 
 
 The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint Andrd's plain, 
 
 With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 
 
 Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
 
 Charge for the golden lilies now, — upon them with the lance! 
 
 A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 
 
 A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest, 
 
 And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star. 
 
 Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 
 
 Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne hath turned his rein, 
 D'Aumale hath cried for quarter — the Flemish Count is slain; 
 Their ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay gale; 
 The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. 
 Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright! 
 Ho! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night! 
 For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, 
 And mocked the counsel of the wise and the valor of the brave. 
 Then glory to His holy name, from whom all glories are; 
 And glory to our sovereign lord. King Henry of Navarre! 
 
 78. THE BURIAL-MARCH OF DVSB^EIE.— William E. Aytoun. 
 Idem, medium pitch. 
 
 On the heights of Killiecrankie 
 
 Yester-morn our army lay; 
 Slowly rose the mist in columns 
 
 From the river's broken way; 
 Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent. 
 
 And the pass was wrapped in gloom, 
 When the clansmen rose together 
 
 From their lair amidst the broom. 
 
 Then we belted on our tartans. 
 
 And our bonnets down we drew, 
 And we felt our broadswords' edges, 
 
 And we proved them to be true; 
 And we prayed the prayer of soldiers. 
 
 And we cried the gathering-cry. 
 And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, 
 
 And we swore to do or die! 
 
278 orator's manual. 
 
 Then our leader rode before us 
 
 On his war-horse black as night, — 
 Well the Cameronian rebels 
 
 Knew that charger in the fight! — 
 And a cry of exultation 
 
 From the bearded warriors rose; 
 For we loved the house of Claver'se, 
 
 And we thought of good Montrose. 
 But he raised his hand for silence — 
 
 " Soldiers! I have sworn a vow: 
 Ere the evening star shall glisten 
 
 On Schehallion's lofty brow, 
 Either we shall rest in triumph, 
 
 Or another of the Graemes 
 Shall have died in battle-harness 
 
 For his Country and King James! 
 ****** 
 
 Strike! and when the fight is over, 
 If ye look in vain for me, 
 
 Where the dead are lying thickest. 
 Search for him that was Dundee! " 
 
 Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet 
 
 Sounding in the pass below, 
 And the distant tramp of horses. 
 
 And the voices of the foe; 
 Down we crouched amid the bracken, 
 
 Till the Lowland ranks drew near, 
 Panting like the hounds in summer, 
 
 When they scent the stately deer. 
 From the dark defile emerging, 
 
 Next we saw the squadrons come, 
 Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers 
 
 Marching to the tuck of drum; 
 Through the scattered wood of birches. 
 
 O'er the broken ground and heath, 
 Wound the long battalion slowly, 
 
 Till they gained the plain beneath; 
 Then we bounded from our covert, — 
 
 Judge how looked the Saxons then, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOl?^. 279 
 
 When they saw the rugged mountains 
 
 Start to life with arm^d men ! 
 Like a tempest down the ridges 
 
 Swept the hurricane of steel, 
 Rose the slogan of Macdonald, — 
 
 Flashed the broadsword of Lochiel! 
 ****** 
 Horse and man went down before us, — 
 
 Living foe there tarried none 
 On the field of Killiecrankie, 
 
 When that stubborn fight was done! 
 
 And the evening star was shining 
 
 On Schehallion's distant head, 
 When we wiped our bloody broadswords, 
 
 And returned to count the dead. 
 There we found him gashed and gory, 
 
 Stretched upon the cumbered plain, 
 As he told us where to seek him. 
 
 In the thickest of the slain. 
 And a smile was on his visage, 
 
 For within his dying ear 
 Pealed the joyful note of triumph. 
 
 And the clansman's clamorous cheer: 
 Sg, amidst the battle's thunder, 
 
 Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, 
 In the glory of his manhood 
 
 Passed the spirit of the Graeme! 
 
 Open wide the vaults of Atholl, 
 
 Where the bones of heroes rest, — 
 Open wide the hallowed portals 
 
 To receive another guest! 
 Last of Scots and last of freemen, — 
 
 Last of all that dauntless race, 
 Who would rather die unsullied 
 
 Than outlive the land's disgrace! 
 
280 orator's manual. 
 
 79. MARMION AND DOUGLAS.— ^ir Walter Scott. 
 Idem, varied melody and movement. 
 
 The train from out the castle drew, 
 But Marmion stopped to bid adieu : — 
 
 " Though something I might 'plain," he said, 
 " Of cold respect to stranger guest, 
 Sent thither by your king's behest, 
 
 While in Tantallon's towers I stayed, 
 Part we in friendship from your land, 
 And, noble Earl, receive my hand." 
 But Douglas round him drew his cloak. 
 Folded his arms, and thus he spoke : — 
 " My manors, halls, and bowers shall still 
 Be open, at my sovereign's will. 
 To each one whom he lists, howe'er 
 Unmeet to be the owner's peer; 
 My castle's are my king's alone. 
 From turret to foundation stone, — 
 The hand of Douglas is his own. 
 And never shall in friendly grasp 
 The hand of such as Marmion clasp." 
 
 Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 
 And shook his very frame for ire. 
 
 And — "This to me! " he said, — 
 **An 't were not for thy hoary beard. 
 Such hand as Marmion's had not spared 
 
 To cleave the Douglas' head! 
 And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer. 
 He who does England's message here, 
 Although the meanest in her state, 
 May well, proud Angus, be thy mate! 
 And, Douglas, more I tell thee here. 
 
 Even in thy pitch of pride, 
 Here in thy hold, thy vassals near, 
 (Nay, never look upon your lord, 
 And lay your hand upon your sword,) 
 
 I tell thee thou 'rt defied! 
 And if thou saidst I am not peer 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 281 
 
 To any lord in Scotland here, 
 Lowland or Highland, far or near, 
 
 Lord Angus, thoa hast lied! " 
 On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 
 O'ercame the ashen hue of age: 
 Fierce he broke forth, — "And dar'st thou then 
 To beard the lion in his den, 
 
 The Douglas in his hall? 
 And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go? 
 No, by St. Bride of Bothwell, no! 
 Up drawbridge, grooms! — What, warder, ho! 
 
 Let the portculHs fall." 
 Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need! — 
 And dashed the rowels in his steed, 
 Like arrow through the archway sprung; 
 The ponderous grate behind him rung: 
 To pass there was such scanty room, 
 The bars, descending, razed his plume. 
 
 The steed along the drawbridge flies, 
 Just as it trembled on the rise; 
 Not lighter does the swallow skim 
 Along the smooth lake's level brim; 
 And when Lord Marmion reached his band, 
 He halts and turns with clenched hand. 
 And shout of loud defiance pours. 
 And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 
 " Horse! horse! " the Douglas cried, " and chase! " 
 But soon he reined his fury's pace: 
 "A royal messenger he came. 
 Though most unworthy of the name. 
 ****** 
 St. Mary, mend my fiery mood! 
 Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, 
 I thought to slay him where he stood. 
 'Tis pity of him, too," he cried; 
 *' Bold can he speak, and fairly ride, 
 I warrant him a warrior tried," 
 "With this his mandate he recalls, 
 And slowly seeks his castle walls. 
 12* 
 
282 okator's manual. 
 
 80. THE SONG OF THE CAM?.— Bayard Taylor. 
 
 AN INCIDENT OF THE CRIMEAN WAR. 
 
 Effusive and expulsive O., medium pitch, sustained force. 
 
 " Give us a song! " the soldiers cried, 
 The outer trenches guarding, 
 
 When the heated guns of the camps allied 
 Grew weary of bombarding. 
 
 The dark Redan, in silent scoff, 
 
 Lay, grim and threatening, under; 
 
 And the tawny mound of the Malakoff 
 No longer belched its thunder. 
 
 There was a pause. A guardsman said: 
 " We storm the forts to-morrow; 
 
 Sing while we may, another day 
 Will bring enough of sorrow." 
 
 They lay along the battery's side, 
 Below the smoking cannon; 
 
 Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, 
 And from the banks of Shannon. 
 
 They sang of love and not of fame; 
 
 Forgot was Britain's glory; 
 Each heart recalled a different name, 
 
 But all sang "Annie Laurie." 
 
 Voice after voice caught up the song. 
 
 Until its tender passion 
 Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, — 
 
 Their battle-eve confession. 
 
 Dear girl, her name he dared not speak. 
 But, as the song grew louder, 
 
 Something upon the soldier's cheek 
 Washed off the stains of powder. 
 
 Beyond the darkening ocean burned 
 The bloody sunset's embers, 
 
 While the Crimean valleys learned 
 How English love remembers. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 283 
 
 And once again a fire of hell 
 
 Rained on the Russian quarters, 
 With scream of shot, and burst of shell, 
 
 And bellowing of the mortars ! 
 
 And Irish Nora's eyes are dim 
 
 For a singer, dumb and gory; 
 And English Mary mourns for him 
 
 Who sang of "Annie Laurie." 
 
 Sleep, soldiers ! still in honored rest 
 
 Your truth and valor wearing : 
 The bravest are the tenderest, — 
 
 The loving are the daring. 
 
 224. Moderate Movement. 
 
 81. THE WRECK OP THE HESPERUS.— fienry W. Longfellow. 
 Effusive and expulsive O., medium and high pitch, varied melody. 
 
 It was the schooner Hesperus 
 
 That sailed the wintry sea; 
 And the skipper had taken his little daughter 
 
 To bear him company. 
 
 Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, 
 
 Her cheeks like the dawn of day, 
 And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds 
 
 That ope in the month of May. 
 
 The skipper he stood beside the helm, 
 
 His pipe was in his mouth, 
 And he watched how the veering flaw did blow 
 
 The smoke now west now south. 
 
 Then up and spake an old sailor. 
 
 Had sailed the Spanish main, 
 *' I pray thee put into yonder port, 
 
 For I fear a hurricane. 
 
 ** Last night the moon had a golden ring, 
 
 And to-night no moon we see! " 
 The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, 
 
 And a scornful laugh laughed he. 
 
284 orator's MAiq^UAL. 
 
 Colder and louder blew the wind, 
 
 A gale from the northeast; 
 The snow fell hissing in the brine, 
 
 And the billows frothed like yeast. 
 
 Down came the storm, and smote amain 
 
 The vessel in its strength; 
 She shuddered and paused like a frightened steed, 
 
 Then leaped her cable's length. 
 
 *' Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, 
 
 And do not tremble so; 
 For I can weather the roughest gale, 
 
 That ever wind did blow." 
 
 He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat 
 
 Against the stinging blast; 
 He cut a rope from a broken spar, 
 
 And bound her to the mast. 
 
 " Oh, father! I hear the church-bells ring. 
 
 Oh, say, what may it be? " 
 ** 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast! " — 
 
 And he steered for the open sea. 
 
 " Oh, father! I hear the sound of guns, 
 
 Oh, say, what may it be? " 
 " Some ship in distress, that cannot live 
 
 In such an angry sea! " 
 
 " Oh, father! I see a gleaming light, 
 
 Oh, say, what may it be? " 
 But the father answered never a word, 
 
 A frozen corpse was he. 
 
 Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark. 
 With his face turned to the skies. 
 
 The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow 
 On his fixed and glassy eyes. 
 
 Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed 
 
 That sav6d she might be; 
 And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave 
 
 On the lake of Galilee. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 28.' 
 
 And fast through the midnight dark and drear, 
 
 Through the whistling sleet and snow, 
 Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept 
 
 Toward the reef of Norman's Woe. 
 
 And ever, the fitful gusts between 
 
 A sound came from the land; 
 It was the sound of the trampling surf 
 
 On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. 
 
 The breakers were right beneath her bows, 
 
 She drifted a dreary wreck. 
 And a whooping billow swept the crew 
 
 Like icicles from her deck. 
 
 She struck where the white and fleecy waves 
 
 Looked soft as carded wool. 
 But the cruel rocks, they gored her side 
 
 Like the horns of an angry bull. 
 
 Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, 
 
 With the masts went by the board ; 
 Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, 
 
 Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! 
 
 At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach, 
 
 A fisherman stood aghast. 
 To see the form of a maiden fair 
 
 Lashed close to a drifting mast. 
 
 The salt sea was frozen on her breast, 
 
 The salt tears in her eyes ; 
 And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, 
 
 On the billows fall and rise. 
 
 Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, 
 
 In the midnight and the snow! 
 Christ save us all from a death like this, 
 
 On the reef of Norman's Woe! 
 
286 orator's manual. 
 
 82. MARCO BOZZABl^.—Filz Greene Halleck. 
 Effusive and Explosive O., medium pitch, varied melody. 
 
 At midnight, in his guarded tent. 
 
 The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
 When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
 
 Should tremble at his power: 
 In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
 The trophies of a conqueror; 
 
 In dreams, his song of triumph heard; 
 Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — 
 Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king; 
 As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 
 
 As Eden's garden bird. 
 
 An hour passed on, — the Turk awoke; 
 
 That bright dream was his last; 
 He woke to hear his sentries shriek — 
 " To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek! " 
 He woke, to die midst flame and smoke, 
 And shout, and groan and saber-stroke. 
 
 And death shots falling thick and fast 
 As lightnings from the mountain cloud; 
 And heard with voice as trumpet loud, 
 
 Bozzaris cheer his band : — 
 " Strike, — till the last armed foe expires! 
 Strike, — for your altars and your fires! 
 STRIKE, — for the green graves of your sires! 
 
 God, and your native land! " 
 
 They fought, like brave men, long and well; 
 
 They piled that ground with Moslem slain; 
 They conquered : but Bozzaris fell 
 
 Bleeding at every vein. 
 His few surviving comrades saw 
 His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 
 
 And the red field was won; 
 Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
 Calmly, as to a night's repose, 
 
 Like flowers at set of sun. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOiq'. 287 
 
 Come to the bridal chamber, Death! 
 
 Come to the mother when she feels 
 For the first time her first-born's breath; 
 
 Come when the blessed seals 
 That close the pestilence are broke, 
 And crowded cities wail its stroke; 
 Come in Consumption's ghastly form, 
 The earthquake's shock, the ocean's storm; 
 Come when the heart beats high and warm, 
 
 With banquet song, and dance, and wine, — 
 And thou art terrible : the tear, 
 The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
 And all we know, or dream, or fear. 
 
 Of agony, are thine. 
 
 But to the hero, when his sword 
 
 Has won the battle for the free. 
 Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
 And in its hollow tones are heard 
 
 The thanks of millions yet to be. 
 BozzARis! with the storied brave 
 
 Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
 Rest thee: there is no prouder grave, 
 
 Even in her own proud clime. 
 
 We tell thy doom without a sigh; 
 For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, — 
 One of the few immortal names, 
 
 That were not bom to die ! 
 
 83. THE LAUNCHING OF THE SBIP.-Henry W. Longfellow. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 All is finished ! and at length 
 
 Has come the bridal day 
 
 Of beauty and of strength. 
 
 To-day the vessel shall be launched! 
 
 With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 
 
 And o'er the bay, 
 
 Slowly, in all his splendors dight, 
 
 The great sun rises to behold the sight. 
 
288 oratok's manual. 
 
 Then the Master, 
 
 With a gesture of command, 
 
 Waved his hand; 
 
 And at the word, 
 
 Loud and sudden there was heard, 
 
 All around them and below. 
 
 The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 
 
 Knocking away the shores and spurs. 
 
 And see! she stirs! 
 
 She starts — she moves — she seems to feel 
 
 The thrill of life along her keel, 
 
 And, spurning with her foot the ground, 
 
 With one exulting, joyous bound, 
 
 She leaps into the ocean's arms! 
 
 And lo ! from the assembled crowd 
 
 There rose a shout, prolonged and loud. 
 
 That to the ocean seemed to say, 
 
 " Take her, bridegroom old and gray; 
 
 Take her to thy protecting arms. 
 
 With all her youth and all her charms." 
 
 How beautiful she is ! how fair 
 
 She lies within those arms, that press 
 
 Her form with many a soft caress 
 
 Of tenderness and watchful care ! 
 
 Lail forth into the sea, ship ! 
 
 Through wind and wave, right onward steer! 
 
 The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 
 
 Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 
 
 Ihou, too, sail on, Ship of State, 
 Sail on, Union, strong and great! 
 Humanity, with all its fears 
 With all the hopes of future years. 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate! 
 We know what master laid thy keel. 
 What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel. 
 Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
 What anvils rang, what hammers beat. 
 In what a forge and what a heat 
 Were shaped the anchors of thy hope! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DEO LAM ATI Oi^". 289 
 
 Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 
 
 Tis of the wave and not the rock; 
 
 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 
 
 And not a rent made by the gale! 
 
 In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 
 
 In spite of false lights on the shore, 
 
 Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
 
 Our faith triumphant o'er our fears. 
 
 Are all with thee — are all with thee ! 
 
 84. THKEE DAYS IN THE LIFE OF COLJJMBVS.—Delavigne. 
 Idem. 
 On the deck stood Columbus; the ocean's expanse, 
 Untried and unlimited, swept by his glance. 
 " Back to Spain! " cry his men; " Put the vessel about! 
 We venture no further through danger and doubt." — 
 " Three days, and I give you a world! " he replied; 
 "Bear up, my brave comrades; — three days shall decide." 
 He sails, — but no token of land is in sight; 
 He sails, — but the day shows no more than the night; — 
 On, onward he sails, while in vain o'er the lee 
 The lead is plunged down through a fathomless sea. 
 
 The second day's past, and Columbus is sleeping, 
 
 While Mutiny near him its vigil is keeping: 
 
 " Shall he perish? " — "Ay! death! " is the barbarous cry. 
 
 " He must triumph to-morrow, or, perjured, must die! " 
 
 Ungrateful and blind ! — shall the world-linking sea, 
 
 He traced for the Future, his sepulchre be? 
 
 Shall that sea, on the morrow, with pitiless waves. 
 
 Fling his corse on that shore which his patient eye craves ? 
 
 The corse of an humble adventurer, then; 
 
 One day later, — Columbus, the first among men! 
 
 But hush! he is dreaming! — A veil on the main. 
 At the distant horizon, is parted in twain. 
 And now, on his dreaming eye, — rapturous sight! — 
 Fresh bursts the New World from the darkness of night! 
 vision of glory! how dazzling it seems! 
 How glistens the verdure! how sparkle the streams! 
 13 
 
290 oeator's manual. 
 
 How blue the far mountains! how glad the green isles! 
 And the earth and the ocean, how dimpled with smiles! 
 "Joy! joy! " cries Columbus, " this region is mine! " 
 Ah! not e'en its name, wondrous dreamer, is thine! 
 
 But, lo! his dream changes; — a vision less bright 
 
 Comes to darken and banish that scene of delight. 
 
 The gold-seeking Spaniards, a merciless band, 
 
 Assail the meek natives and ravage the land. 
 
 He sees the fair palace, the temple on fire, 
 
 And the peaceful Cazique 'mid their ashes expire; 
 
 He sees, too, — Oh, saddest! Oh, mournfullest sight! — 
 
 The crucifix gleam in the thick of the fight. 
 
 More terrible far than the merciless steel 
 
 Is the up-lifted cross in the red hand of Zeal! 
 
 Again the dream changes. Columbus looks forth, 
 And a bright constellation beholds in the North. 
 'Tis the herald of empire ! A People appear, 
 Impatient of wrong, and unconscious of fear! 
 They level the forest, — they ransack the seas, — 
 Each zone finds their canvas unfurled to the breeze. 
 " Hold! " Tyranny cries; but their resolute breath 
 Sends back the reply, " Independence or death! " 
 The ploughshare they turn to a weapon of might. 
 And, defying all odds, they go forth to the fight. 
 
 They have conquered! The People, with grateful acclaim, 
 
 Look to Washington's guidance, from Washington's fame; — 
 
 Behold Cincinnatus and Cato combined 
 
 In his patriot heart and republican mind. 
 
 Oh, type of true manhood! What sceptre or crown 
 
 But fades in the light of thy simple renown? 
 
 And lo ! by the side of the Hero, a Sage, 
 
 In Freedom's behalf, sets his mark on the age; 
 
 Whom Science adoringly hails, while he wrings 
 
 The lightning from heaven, the sceptre from kings! 
 
 At length, o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks; 
 
 " Land! land! " cry the sailors; " land! land! " — he awakes,— 
 
 He runs, — yes! behold it! — it blesseth his sight, — 
 
 The land! Oh, dear spectacle! transport! delight! 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^". 291 
 
 Oh, generous sobs, which he cannot restrain! 
 
 What will Ferdinand say? and the Future? and Spain? 
 
 He will lay this fair land at the foot of the throne, — 
 
 His king will repay all the ills he has known, — 
 
 In exchange for a world what are honors and gains ? 
 
 Or a crown? But how is he rewarded? — with chains! 
 
 225. Moderately Slow Movement. 
 
 85. THE BAROX'S LAST BANQUET.— ^. G. Oreene. 
 
 AH kinds of force, O., moderately low pitch. 
 
 O'er a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray, 
 Where, in his last strong agony, a dying warrior lay, — 
 The stern old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent 
 By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent. 
 
 *' They come around me here, and say my days of Hfe are o'er; 
 That I shall mount my noble steed and lead my band no more; 
 They come, and, to my beard, they dare to teU me now that I, 
 Their own liege lord and master born, that I, — ha! ha! — must die. 
 
 "And what is death? I've dared him oft before the Paynim spear; 
 Think ye he's entered at my gate, — has come to seek me here ? 
 I've met him, faced him, scorned him, when the fight was raging hot; 
 I'll try his might, I'll brave his power; defy, and fear him not. 
 
 " Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin, 
 Bid each retainer arm with speed; call every vassal in; 
 Up with my banner on the wall; the banquet board prepare; 
 Throw wide the portal of my haU, and bring my armor there ! ' 
 
 An hundred hands were busy then : the banquet forth was spread, 
 And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread; 
 While from the rich, dark tracery, along the vaulted wall, 
 Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the proud old 
 Gothic hall. 
 
 Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured, 
 On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the 
 
 board; 
 While at its head, within his dark, carved oaken chair of state, 
 Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, with girded falchion, sate. 
 
292 oeator's manual. 
 
 " Fill every beaker up, my men; pour forth the cheering wine; 
 There's life and strength in every drop; — thanksgiving to the vine! 
 Are ye all there, my vassals true? mine eyes are waxing dim; 
 Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim. 
 
 *' Ye're there, but yet I see you not; draw forth each trusjy sword, 
 And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board;— 
 I hear it faintly; —louder yet! What clogs my heavy breath? 
 Up, all! and shout for Rudiger, 'Defiance unto death! ' " 
 
 Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening cry, 
 That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high. 
 "Ho! cravens! do ye fear him? Slaves, traitors! have ye flown? 
 Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone? 
 
 " But I defy him; let him come! " Down rang the massy cup. 
 While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up; 
 And, with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his head, 
 There, in his dark, carved, oaken chair, old Rudiger sat, — dead! 
 
 86. HORATIUS AT THE BKLDGE.— Thomas B. Macaulay. 
 Idem. 
 
 The Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low, 
 
 And darkly looked he at the wall, and darkly at the foe. 
 
 "Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down; 
 
 And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the town? " 
 
 Then out spoke brave Horatius, the Captain of the gate; 
 "To every man upon this earth death cometh, soon or late. 
 Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may; 
 I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe at bay. 
 
 " In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three. 
 Now who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with me? " 
 Then out spake Spurius Lartius,. — a Ramnian proud was he, — 
 " Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee." 
 
 And out spake strong Herminius, — of Titian blood was he, — 
 " I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee." 
 " Horatius," quoth the Consul, " as thou sayest, so let it be." 
 And straight against that great array, forth went the dauntless 
 Three. 
 
SELECTIOi^S FOR DECLAMATlON^. 293 
 
 Soon all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see 
 On the earth the bloody corpses, in the path the dauntless Three. 
 And from the ghastly entrance, where those bold Romans stood. 
 The bravest shrank like boys who rouse an old bear in the wood. 
 
 But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied. 
 And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide. 
 " Come back, come back, Horatius! " loud cried the Fathers all; 
 " Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere. the ruin fall! " 
 
 Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; 
 
 And, as they passed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack; 
 
 But when they turned their faces, and on the further shore 
 
 Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more. 
 
 But, with a crash like thunder, fell every loosened beam. 
 And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream; 
 And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome, 
 As to the highest turret- tops was splashed the yellow foam. 
 
 And, like a horse unbroken when first he feels the rein. 
 
 The furious river struggled hard, and tossed his tawny mane, 
 
 And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free. 
 
 And battlement, and plank, and pier, whirled headlong to the sea. 
 
 Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind; 
 Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind, 
 " Down with him! " cried false Sextus, with a smile on his pale face, 
 " Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, " now yield thee to our grace." 
 
 Round turned he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see ; 
 Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus naught spake he; 
 But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home, 
 And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of Rome. 
 
 " Tiber! father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray, 
 A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day! " 
 So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed the good sword by his side. 
 And, with his harness on his back, plunged headlong in the tide. 
 
 No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank; 
 
 But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, stood gazing where he sank; 
 
 And when above the surges they saw his crest appear, 
 
 Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer. 
 
294 orator's manual. 
 
 But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain: 
 And fast his blood was flowing; and he was sore in pain, 
 And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows: 
 And oft they thought him sinking, — but still again he rose. 
 
 Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case. 
 Struggle through,such a raging flood safe to the landmg-place: 
 But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within, 
 And our good father Tiber bare bravely up his chin. 
 
 " Curse on him! " quoth false Sextus; " will not the villain drown? 
 But for this stay, ere close of day we should have sacked the town! " 
 " Heaven help him! " quoth Lars Porsena, " and bring him safe to 
 
 shore; 
 For such a gallant feat of arms was never seen before." 
 
 And now he feels the bottom; — now on dry earth he stands; 
 Now round him throng the Fathers to press his gory hands. 
 And now, with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud, 
 He enters through the River Gate, borne by the joyous crowd. 
 
 87. THE SAILOE-BOY'S BBMAK.—Bimond. 
 Effusive 0., poetic monotone. 
 
 In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay. 
 
 His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; 
 
 But, watch- worn and weary, his cares flew away. 
 And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 
 
 He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, 
 And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; 
 
 While memory stood side- wise, half covered with flowers, 
 And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 
 
 The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch. 
 
 And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall. 
 
 All trembling with transport he raises the latch. 
 And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 
 
 A father bends o'er him with looks of delight, — 
 
 His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear; 
 
 And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite 
 
 With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOK. 295 
 
 The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, 
 
 Joy quickens his pulse — all his hardships seem o'er; 
 
 And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest — 
 " God! thou hast blest me,— I ask for no more." 
 
 Ah ! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye ? 
 
 Ah! what is that sound that now 'larums his ear? 
 Tis the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky; 
 
 'Tis the crashing of thunder, the groan of the sphere! 
 
 He springs from his hammock — he flies to the deck; 
 
 Amazement confronts him with images dire; — 
 Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck. 
 
 The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire I 
 
 Like mountains the billows tumultuously swell; 
 
 In vain the lost wretch calls on meicy to save; — 
 Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell. 
 
 And the death-angel flaps his dark wings o'er the wave. 
 
 sailor-boy! woe to thy dream of delight! 
 
 In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss; — 
 Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright. 
 
 Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss. 
 
 sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again 
 
 Shall love, home or kindred thy wishes repay; 
 
 Unblessed and unhoncred, down deep in the main 
 Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 
 
 No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, 
 Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; 
 
 But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be, 
 And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge. 
 
 On beds of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid, 
 Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow; 
 
 Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 
 And every part suit to thy mansion below. 
 
 Days, months, years and ages shall circle away, 
 And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; 
 
 Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye — 
 sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul! 
 
296 orator's manual. 
 
 88. THE RELIEF OF LVCKNOW.— Robert Lowell. 
 P., O. and A., all kinds of force, 
 
 Med. Oh, that last day in Lucknow fort! 
 
 We knew that it was the last: 
 Low. That the enemy's lines crept surely on, 
 
 And the end was coming fast. 
 
 To yield to that foe was worse than death, 
 
 And the men and we all worked on; 
 It was one day more of smoke and roar, 
 
 And then it would all be done. 
 
 Med. There was one of us, a corporal's wife, 
 A fair, young, gentle thing, 
 Wasted with fever in the siege. 
 And her mind was wandering. 
 
 She lay on the ground in her Scottish plaid. 
 And I took her head on my knee : 
 High. " When my father comes hame frae the pleugh," she said, 
 "Oh! then please waken me." 
 
 Med. She slept like a child on her father's floor 
 In the flecking of woodbine-shade. 
 When the house-dog sprawls by the open door, 
 And the mother's wheel is staid. 
 
 Low. It was smoke and roar and powder-stench, 
 
 And hopeless waiting for death; 
 Med. And the soldier's wife, like a full-tired child, 
 
 Seemed scarce to draw her breath. 
 
 I sank to sleep; and I had my dream 
 Of an English village-lane 
 High. And wall and garden: — but one wild scream 
 Low. Brought me back to the roar again. 
 
 Med. There Jessie Brown stood listening. 
 
 Till a sudden gladness broke 
 A. All over her face, and she caught my hand 
 
 And drew me near, as she spoke: 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 297 
 
 High. " The Hielanders ! Oh ! dinna ye hear 
 The slogan far awa? 
 The McGregor's? Oh! I ken it weel; 
 It's the grandest o' them a' ! 
 
 "God bless the bonny Hielanders! 
 
 We're saved! we're saved! " she cried; 
 Med.O. And fell on her knees, and thanks to God 
 Flowed forth like a full flood-tide 
 
 A. Along the battery- line her cry 
 Had fallen among the men, 
 And they started back; — they were there to die; 
 But was life so near them then '? 
 
 They listened for life : the rattling fire 
 Far off, and the far-off roar 
 Low 0. Were all; and the colonel shook his head, 
 
 And they turned to their guns once more. 
 
 High. But Jessie said, "The slogan's done; 
 But winna ye hear it noo? 
 The Campbells are comin'! It's nae a dream; 
 Our succors hae broken through! " 
 
 Low. We heard the roar and the rattle afar, 
 Med. But the pipes we could not hear; 
 
 Low. So the men plied their work of hopeless war. 
 And knew that the end was near. 
 
 Med. It was not long ere it made its way, — 
 A shrilling, ceaseless sound: 
 It was no noise from the strife afar, 
 Or the sappers under ground. 
 
 High. It was the pipes of the Highlanders ! 
 
 And now they played Auld Lang Syne; 
 A. It came to our men like the voice of God, 
 
 And they shouted along the line. 
 
 And they wept, and shook one another's hands, 
 
 And the women sobbed in a crowd; 
 And every one knelt down where he stood 
 
 And we all thanked God aloud. 
 
198 
 
 Med.O. That happy time, when we welcomed them, 
 Oui" men put Jessie first; 
 And the general gave her his hand, and cheers 
 Like a storm from the soldiers burst. 
 
 And the pipers' ribbons and tartans streamed, 
 
 Marching round and round our line; 
 And our joyful cheers were broken with tears 
 
 As the pipers played Auld Lang Syne. 
 
 89. CHAEGE OP THE LIGHT BYilGKD^.— Alfred Tennysor. 
 Explosive O., medium pitch, poetic monotone. 
 
 Half a league, half a league, 
 
 Half a league onward, 
 All in the valley of Death 
 
 Rode the six hundred. 
 "Charge," was the captain's cry; 
 Theirs not to reason why. 
 Theirs not to make reply. 
 Theirs but to do and die : 
 Into the valley of Death 
 
 Rode the six hundred. 
 
 Cannon to right of them. 
 Cannon to left of them. 
 Cannon in front of them. 
 
 Volley 'd and thunder'd; 
 Storm 'd at with shot and shell, 
 Boldly they rode and well; 
 Into the jaws of Death, 
 Into the mouth of Hell, 
 
 Rode the six hundred. 
 
 Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
 Flash'd as they turn'd in air, 
 Sabring the gunners there, 
 Charging an army, while 
 
 All the world wonder'd: 
 Plunged in the battery- smoke, 
 Right thro' the line they broke; 
 Cossack and Russian 
 Reel'd from the sabre-stroke 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOK. 299 
 
 Shatter'd and sunder'd. 
 Then they rode back, but not, 
 Not the six hundred. 
 
 Cannon to right of them, 
 Cannon to left of them, 
 Cannon behind them 
 
 Volley 'd and thunder'd; 
 Storm 'd at with shot and shell, 
 While horse and hero fell. 
 They that had fought so well 
 Came through the jaws of Death 
 Back from the mouth of Hell, 
 All that was left of them, 
 
 Left of six hundred. 
 
 When can their glory fade ? 
 Oh, the wild charge they made! 
 
 All the world wonder'd. 
 Honor the charge they made ' 
 Honor the Light Brigade, 
 
 Noble six hundred ! 
 
 90. THE BUGLE SOliiQ.— Alfred Tennyson. 
 Effusive P. and O., medium and high pitch. 
 
 The splendor falls on castle walls 
 
 And snowy summits old in story; 
 The long light shakes across the lakes, 
 And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
 Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. 
 Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 
 
 Oh, hark! Oh, hear! how thin and clear. 
 
 And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
 Oh, sweet and far, from cliff and scar. 
 The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! 
 Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: 
 Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dymg, dying, dying. 
 
 Oh, love, they die in yon rich sky. 
 They faint on hill or field or river; 
 
wm 
 
 300 okator's manual. 
 
 Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
 And grow forever and forever. 
 Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. 
 And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 
 
 91. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOVL.— Alexander Pope. 
 
 Explosive O. 
 
 Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
 Quit, Oh, quit this mortal frame! 
 Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
 Oh, the pain, the bliss, of dying! 
 Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, 
 And let me languish into life ! 
 
 Hark ! they whisper ; angels say 
 Sister Spirit, come away; 
 What is this absorbs me quite, — 
 Steals my senses, shuts my sight. 
 Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? 
 Tell me, soul! can this be death? 
 
 (A 0) The world recedes, — it disappears! 
 Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears 
 With sounds seraphic ring. 
 Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly! 
 Grave! where is thy victory ? 
 Death! where is thy sting? 
 
 92. THE BURIAL OF MOSES.— ify^. C. F. Alexander. 
 
 Idem, low pitch. 
 
 By Nebo's lonely mountain, on this side Jordan's wave, 
 
 In a vale in the land of Moab, there lies a lonely grave; 
 
 But no man dug that sepulchre, and no man saw it e'er, 
 
 For the angels of God upturned the sod, and laid the dead man there, 
 
 That was the grandest funeral that ever passed on earth; 
 
 But no man heard the tramping, or saw the train go forth; 
 
 Noiselessly as the daylight comes when the night is done. 
 
 And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek grows into the great sun,— 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 301 
 
 Noiselessly as the spring-time her crown of verdure weaves, 
 And all the trees on all the hills open their thousand leaves, — 
 So, without sound of music, or voice of them that wept, 
 Silently down from the mountain crown the great procession swept. 
 
 Lo! when the warrior dieth, his comrades in the war. 
 
 With arms reversed, and muffled drum, follow the funeral car. 
 
 They show the banners taken, they tell his battles won. 
 
 And after him lead his masterless steed, while peals the minute-gun. 
 
 Amid the noblest of the land men lay the sage to rest, 
 And give the bard an honored place with costly marble dressed. 
 In the great minster transept, where lights like glories fall. 
 And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings, along the emblaz- 
 oned wall. 
 
 This was the bravest warrior that ever buckled sword; » 
 
 This the most gifted poet that ever breathed a word; 
 
 And never earth's philosopher traced, with his golden pen. 
 
 On the deathless page, truths half so sage, as he wrote down for men. 
 
 And had he not high honor, the hill-side for his pall; 
 
 To lie in state while angels wait with stars for tapers tall; 
 
 And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes, over his bier to wave; 
 
 And God's own hand, in that lonely land, to lay him in the grave? 
 
 Oh, lonely tomb in Moab's land. Oh, dark Beth-peor's hill, 
 Speak to these curious hearts of ours, and teach them to be still. 
 God hath his mysteries of Grace — ways that we cannot tell ; 
 He hides them deep, like the secret sleep of him he loved so well. 
 
 226. Slow Movement: Descriptions of Natural Scenery. 
 
 Natural and Effusive P. and 0., passing often, especially in the latter por- 
 tions of the extracts, into Expulsive 0. 
 
 93. THE SKY.— /o^w Buskin. 
 Medium pitch. 
 
 Not I long I ag6 | I v^^as slowly || descending I| the car- 
 riage road II after you leave | Albano. It had been wild] 
 weather | when I left | Rome, || and all | across | the Cam- 
 pagna || the clouds | were sweeping | in sulphurous | bltie, | 
 with a clap of thiinder | or two, | and breaking | gleams | of 
 
302 orator's manual. 
 
 sun I along the Claudian | Aqueduct, | lighting up | its 
 arches || like the bridge | of chaos. But, as I climbed || the 
 long II slope II of the Alban || mount, || the storm | swept | 
 finally | to the north, || and the noble | outline || of the 
 domes || of Albano || and the graceful | darkness | of its || 
 ilex grove | rose | against | pure || streaks | of alternate || 
 blue II and amber, | the upper | sky | gradually | flushing 
 through I the last | fragments | of rain-cloud, | in deep | 
 palpitating | azure, | half | ether | and half | dew. The 
 noon-day | sun | came | slanting | down | the rocky | 
 slopes I of La Ricca, || and its masses | of entangled | and 
 tall I foliage, | whose autumnal | tints | were mixed | with 
 the wet I verdure | of a thousand | evergreens, | were 
 penetrated with it | as with rain. I cannot call it color, it 
 was conflagration. Ptirple, | and crimson | and scarlet, | 
 like the curtains | of God's | tabernacle, | the rejoicing | 
 trees | sank | into the valley | in showers | of light, | 
 every | separate | leaf | quivering | with buoyant | and 
 burning | life ; | each, | as it turned | to reflect | or to trans- 
 mit I the sunbeam, | first || a torch, || and then || an emerald. 
 Are not all natural things, it may be asked, as lovely 
 near as far away? By no means. Look at the clouds and 
 watch the delicate sculpture of their alabaster sides, and 
 the rounded lustre of their magnificent rolling. They are 
 meant to be beheld far away: they were shaped for their 
 place high above your head: approach them and they fuse 
 into vague mists, or whirl away in fierce fragments of 
 thunderous vapor. Look at the crest of the Alp from the 
 far-away plains over which its light is cast, whence human 
 souls have communed with it by their myriads. It was built 
 for its place in the far-off sky: approach it, and as the 
 sound of the voice of man dies away about its foundations, 
 and the tide of human life is met at last by the eternal 
 " Here shall thy waves be stayed," the glory of its aspect 
 fades into blanched fearfulness; its purple w^alls are rent 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 303 
 
 into grisly rocks, its silver fret-work saddened into wasting 
 snow; the stormbrands of ages are on its breast, the ashes 
 of its own ruin lie solemnly on its white raiment. 
 
 If you desire to perceive the great harmonies of the 
 form of a rocky mountain, you must not ascend upon its 
 sides. All there is disorder and accident, or seems so. Re- 
 tire from it, and as your eye commands it more and more, 
 you see the ruined mountain world with a wider glance; 
 behold! dim sympathies begin to busy themselves in the 
 disjointed mass: line binds itself into stealthy fellowship with 
 line: group by group the helpless fragments gather them- 
 selves into ordered companies: new captains of hosts, and 
 masses of battalions, become visible one by one; and far- 
 away answers of foot to foot and bone to bone, until the 
 powerless is seen risen up with girded loins, and not one 
 piece of all the unregarded heap can now be spared from 
 the mystic whole. 
 
 94. AVALANCHES OF JUNGFRAU ALP.-G^. B. Cheever. 
 Idem. 
 
 Suddenly an enormous mass of snow and ice, in itself a 
 mountain, seems to move; it breaks from the toppling out- 
 most mountain ridge of snow, where it is hundreds of feet 
 in depth, and in its first fall of perhaps two thousand feet 
 is broken into millions of fragments. As you first see the 
 flash of distant artillery by night, then hear the roar, so 
 here you may see the white flashing mass majestically bow- 
 ing, then hear the astounding din. A cloud of dusty, dry 
 snow rises into the air from the concussion, forming a 
 white volume of fleecy smoke, or misty light, from the 
 bosom of which thunders forth the icy torrent in its second 
 prodigious fall over the rocky battlements. The eye follows 
 it delighted, as it ploughs through the path which preced- 
 ing avalanches have worn, till it comes to the brink of a 
 vast ridge of bare rock, perhaps more than two thousand 
 
304 orator's MAiq"UAL. 
 
 feet perpendicular; then pours the whole cataract over 
 the gulf, with a still louder roar of echoing thunder, to 
 which nothing but the noise of Niagara in its sublimity is 
 comparable. 
 
 Another fall of still greater depth ensues, over a second 
 similar castellated ridge or reef in the surface of the mount- 
 ain, with an awful, majestic slowness, and a tremendous 
 crash in its concussion, awakening again the reverberating 
 peals of thunder. Then the torrent roars on to another 
 smaller fall, till at length it reaches a mighty groove of 
 snow and ice. Here its progress is slower; and last of all 
 you listen to the roar of the falling fragments, as they 
 drop out of sight, with a dead weight, into the bottom of 
 the gulf, to rest there forever. 
 
 Figure to yourself a cataract like that of Niagara, 
 poured in foaming grandeur, not merely over one great 
 precipice of two hundred feet, but over the successive ridgy 
 precipices of two or three thousand, in the face of a mount- 
 ain eleven thousand feet high, and tumbling, crashing, 
 thundering down with a continuous din of far greater sub- 
 limity than the sound of the grandest cataract. The roar 
 of the falling mass begins to be heard the moment it is 
 loosened from the mountain; it pours on with the sound of 
 a vast body of rushing water; then comes the first great 
 concussion, a booming crash of thunders, breaking on the 
 still air in mid-heaven; your breath is suspended, and you 
 listen and look; the mighty glittering mass shoots head- 
 long over the main precipice, and the fall is so great that 
 it produces to the eye that impression of dread majestic 
 slowness of which I have spoken, though it is doubtless 
 more rapid than Niagara. But if you should see the cata- 
 ract of Niagara itself coming down hve thousand feet above 
 you in the air, there would be the same impression. The 
 image remains in the mind, and can never fade from it; 
 it is as if you had seen an alabaster cataract from heaven. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION^". 305 
 
 The sound is far more sublime than that of Niagara, be- 
 cause of the preceding stillness in those Alpine solitudes. 
 In the midst of such silence and solemnity, from out the 
 bosom of those glorious, glittering forms of nature, comes 
 that rushing, crashing, thunder-burst of sound ! If it were 
 not that your soul, through the eye, is as filled and fixed 
 with the sublimity of the vision as, through the sense of 
 hearing, with that of the audible report, methinks you 
 would wish to bury your face in your hands, and fall pros- 
 trate, as at the voice of the Eternal. 
 
 95. THE FIRST VIEW OF THE HEAVENS.— 0. M. Mitchel. 
 
 Often have I swept backward, in imagination, six thou- 
 sand years, and stood beside our great ancestor, as he gazed 
 for the first time upon the going down of the sun. What 
 strange sensations must have swept through his bewildered 
 mind, as he watched the last departing ray of the sinking 
 orb, unconscious whether he should ever behold its return. 
 
 Wrapped in a maze of thought, strange and startling, 
 he suffers his eye to linger long about the point at which 
 the sun had slowly faded from view. A mysterious dark- 
 ness creeps over the face of Nature; the beautiful scenes of 
 earth are slowly fading, one by one, from his dimmed vision. 
 
 A gloom deeper than that which covers earth steals 
 across the mind of earth's solitary inhabitant. He raises 
 his inquiring gaze toward heaven; and lo! a silver crescent 
 of light, clear and beautiful, hanging in the western sky, 
 meets his astonished gaze. The j^oung moon charms his 
 untutored vision, and leads him upward to her bright at- 
 tendants, which are now stealing, one by one, from out the 
 deep blue sky. The solitary gazer bows, wonders, and 
 adores. 
 
 The hours glide by; the silver moon is gone; the stars 
 are rising, slowly ascending the heights of heaven, and sol- 
 13* 
 
306 orator's manual. 
 
 emnly sweeping downward in the stillness of the night. A 
 faint streak of rosy light is seen in the east; it brightens; 
 the stars fade ; the planets are extinguished ; the eye is 
 fixed in mute astonishment on the growing splendor, till 
 the first rays of the returning sun dart their radiance on 
 the young earth and its solitary inhabitant. 
 
 The curiosity excited on this first solemn night, the con- 
 sciousness that in the heavens God had declared his glory, 
 the eager desire to comprehend the mysteries that dwell in 
 their bright orbs, have clung, through the long lapse of six 
 thousand years, to the descendants of him who first watched 
 and wondered. In this boundless field of investigation, hu- 
 man genius has won its most signal victories. 
 
 Generation after generation has rolled away, age after 
 age has swept silently by; but each has swelled, by its con- 
 tributions, the stream of discovery. Mysterious movements 
 have been unravelled; mighty laws have been revealed; 
 ponderous orbs have been weighed; one barrier after an- 
 other has given way to the force of intellect; until the 
 mind, majestic in its strength, has mounted, step by step, 
 up the rocky height of its self-built pyramid, from whose 
 star-crowned summit it looks out upon the grandeur of the 
 universe self-clothed with the prescience of a God. 
 
 96. CHAMOUNY.— /SamweZ T. Coleridge. 
 Moderately low pitch. 
 Hast I thou a charm | to stay | the morning | star | 
 In his I steep | course? — so long || he seems | to pause | 
 On thy I bald, | awful | front, || Oh, | sovereign | Blanc; 
 The Arv6 | and Arveiron | at thy base | 
 Rave II ceaselessly; jj but thou, || most | awful | form, | 
 Risest I from forth | thy silent | sea | of pines | 
 How I silently! Around thee | and above, | 
 D^ep I is the air, | and dark; substantial | black, | 
 An febon mass: || methinks | thou pi&rcest it | 
 As with a w^dge ! | But, when I look | again, | 
 
SELECTIOis-S FOR DECLAMATIO:^^. 307 
 
 It is thine own | calm | home, | thy crystal ] shrine, | 
 Thy habitation | from eternity. | 
 
 dread | and silent | mount! | I gazed | upon thee | 
 Till thou, I still I present | to the bodily | sense, || 
 
 Didst vanish | from my thought: | entranced \ in prayer, | 
 
 1 worshiped | the Invisible | alone. 
 
 Yet, I like some sweet, | beguiling | melody, | 
 
 So I sweet | we know not | we are listening to it, 
 
 Thou, I the meanwhile, | wast blending with | my thought, — 
 
 Yea, I with my life, | and life's | own | secret joy — 
 
 Till the dilating | soul, | enrapt, | transfused, | 
 
 Into the mighty | vision | passing || — there, | 
 
 As in her natural ] form, || swelled 1 1 vast 1 1 to heaven. 
 
 Awake, | my soul ! | Not only passive | praise | 
 Thou 6 west; not alone | these swelling | tears. 
 Mute I thanks, ] and silent | Ecstasy. | Awake, 
 Voice of sweet | song! Awake, | my h^art, | awake, 
 Green | vales | and icy cliffs, all II join || my hymn. 
 
 Thou, first | and chief, | sole | sovereign | of the vale! 
 Oh, I struggling | with the darkness | all j the night, | 
 And visited | all | night | by troops | of stars. 
 Or when they climb | the sky, | or when they sink || — 
 Companion || of the morning | star | at dawn, | 
 Thyself II earth's || rosy | star, || and | of the dawn | 
 Co- II herald, || wake! | Oh, wake! || and utter praise! II 
 Who II sank | thy sunless | pillars | deep | in ^arth? 
 Who I filled I thy countenance | with rosy || light? 
 Who I made thee | parent | of perpetual | str.^ams ? 
 
 And you, | ye five | wild | torrents, || fiercely 1 1 glad! 
 
 Who called | you || forth [ from night | and utter [ death, | 
 
 From dark | and icy ] caverns | called you forth, || 
 
 Down I those | precipitous, | black || and jagged rocks, 
 
 Forever | shattered, || and the same | forever? | 
 
 Who gave you | your j invulnerable | life. 
 
 Your strength, | your sp^ed, ] your fiiry, | and your j6y, | 
 
 Unceasing | thi^mder, | and eternal | foam? 
 
 And who | commanded, | — and the silence | came, — 
 
 "Here | let the billows | stiffen, | and have r^st"? 
 
308 okator's makual. 
 
 Ye ice-falls! | ye | that from the mountain's | brow 
 
 Adown j enormous | ravines | slope | amain, — 
 
 Torrents, | methinks, | that heard a mighty | voice, | 
 
 And stopped 1 at once | amid | their maddest | plunge ! 
 
 Motionless | torrents ! silent | cataracts ! — | 
 
 Who made you | glorious | as the gates | of heaven | 
 
 Beneath the keen | full | moon ? Who bade the sun 
 
 Clothe you | with rainbows ? Who | with living ] flowers ] 
 
 Of loveliest | blue | spread | garlands ] at your f^et? — 
 
 " God! " i let the torrents, | like a shout | of nations, | 
 
 Answer: 1 and let the ice-plains ] 6cho, | " God! " 
 
 "God!" I sing, | ye meadow- streams, ] with gladsome | voice, 
 
 Ye pine-groves, | with your soft | and soul-like | sounds! |l 
 
 And th^y, too, ] have a voice, | yon | piles ] of snow, 
 
 And, in th&ir | perilous | fall, | shall thunder, | " God! " 
 
 Ye Ragles, ] playmates | of the mountain- | storm! 
 
 Ye lightnings, | the dread | arrows [ of the clouds! 
 
 Ye signs | and wonders | of the Elements ! 
 
 Utter forth | " God! " | and fill | the hills | with praise! 
 
 Thou, too, hoar mount, with thy sky-pointing peaks, 
 Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 
 Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene, 
 Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — 
 Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain! thou 
 That — as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 
 In adoration, upward from thy base 
 Slow traveling with dim eyes suffused with tears — 
 Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 
 To rise before me — rise. Oh, ever rise ! 
 Rise, like a -cloud of incense, from the earth! 
 Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills, 
 Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven. 
 Great hierarch, tell thou the silent sky. 
 And tell the stars, and tell you rising sun, 
 "Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God!" 
 
 97. THANATOPSIS.— m^iam C. Bryant. 
 
 Idem. 
 
 To him who, in the love of Nature, holds 
 
 Communion with her visible forms, she speaka 
 
 A various language; for his gayer hours 
 
SELECTIONS EOR DECLAMATION. 309 
 
 She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
 
 And eloquence of beauty; and she glides 
 
 Into his darker musings, with a mild 
 
 And gentle sympath}-, that steals away 
 
 Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts 
 
 Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 
 
 Over thy spirit, and sad images 
 
 Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 
 
 And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 
 
 Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart, — 
 
 Go forth under the open sky, and list 
 
 To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 
 
 Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 
 
 Comes a still voice — Yet a few days, and thee 
 
 The all-beholding sun shall see no more 
 
 In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground 
 
 Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 
 
 Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 
 
 Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 
 
 Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; 
 
 And. lost each human trace, surrendering up 
 
 Thine individual being, shalt thou go 
 
 To mix forever with the elements; 
 
 To be a brother to the insensible rock 
 
 And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 
 
 Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 
 
 Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould 
 
 Yet not to thy eternal resting-place 
 
 Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish 
 
 Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
 
 With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, 
 
 The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, 
 
 Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, 
 
 All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills. 
 
 Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales 
 
 Stretching in pensive quietness between; 
 
 The venerable woods; rivers, that move 
 
 In majesty, and the complaining brooks. 
 
 That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, 
 
 Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 
 
 Are but the solemn decorations all 
 
310 oeator's manual. 
 
 Of the great tomb of man ! The golden sun, 
 
 The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
 
 Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 
 
 Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 
 
 The globe are but a handful to the tribes 
 
 That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 
 
 Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce. 
 
 Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
 
 Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound 
 
 Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! 
 
 And millions in those solitudes, since first 
 
 The flight of years began, have laid them down 
 
 In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone! 
 
 So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt fall 
 
 Unnoticed by the living, and no friend 
 
 Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 
 
 Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
 
 When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 
 
 Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 
 
 His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave 
 
 Their mirth and their employments, and shall come 
 
 And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
 
 Of ages glide away, the sons of men — 
 
 The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
 
 In the full strength of years, matron, and maid, 
 
 The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles 
 
 And beauty of its innocent age cut off — 
 
 Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, 
 
 By those who in their turn shall follow them. 
 
 So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
 The innumerable caravan that moves 
 To the pale realms of shade, where each shaU take 
 His chamber in the silent halls of death. 
 Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night. 
 Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed 
 By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
 Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 
 
SELECTIONS POR DECLAMATION". 311 
 
 HUMOROUS. 
 
 227. Humor requires a light and airy but greatly diversified 
 movement; tones both discrete (laughing) and concrete (§§ 86, 87); a 
 melodif (§ 92 a) often passing suddenly /row the lowest to the highest 
 pitch and back again; a frequent use of the circumflex, of double 
 reference or meaning (§ 74), and all kinds of stress and quality. 
 
 98. HOBBIES.— r. Z>em^< Talmage. 
 
 We all ride something. It is folly to expect us always 
 to be walking. The cheapest thing to ride is a hobby; it 
 eats no oats ; it demands no orroom ; it breaks no traces ; it 
 requires no shoeing. Moreover, it is safest; the boisterous 
 outbreak of the children's fun does not startle it; three 
 babies astride it at once do not make it skittish. If, per- 
 chance, on some brisk morning it throws its rider, it will 
 stand still till he climbs the saddle. For eight years we 
 have had one tramping the nursery, and yet no accident; 
 though, meanwhile, his eye has been knocked out and his 
 tail dislocated. 
 
 When we get old enough to leave the nursery we jump 
 astride some philosophic, metaphysical, literary, political or 
 theological hobby. Parson Brownlow's hobby was the hang- 
 ing of rebels; John C. Calhoun's, South Carolina; Daniel 
 Webster's, the constitution; Wheeler's, the sewing machine; 
 Dr. Windship's, gymnastics. 
 
 Goodyear's hobby is made out of India-rubber; Peter 
 Cooper's, out of glue; Townsend's, out of sarsaparilla bot- 
 tles; De Witt Clinton rode his up the ditch of the Erie 
 canal; Cyrus Field, under the sea; John P. Jackson, down 
 the railroad from Am boy to Camden; indeed, the men of 
 mark and the men of worth have all had their hobby, great 
 or small. 
 
 We have no objections to hobbies; but we contend that 
 there are times and places when and where they should not 
 
312 okator's manual. 
 
 be ridden. Let your hobby rest. If it will not otherwise 
 stop, tie it for a few days to the whitewashed stump of 
 modern conservatism. Do not hurry things too much. If 
 this world should be saved next week it would spoil some of 
 our professions. Do not let us do up things too quick. This 
 world is too big a ship for us to guide. I know, from the 
 way she swings from larboard to starboard, that there is a 
 strong Hand at the helm. 
 
 Be patient. God's clock strikes but once or twice in a 
 thousand years; but the wheels all the while keep turning. 
 Over the caravansera of Bethlehem, with silver tongue, it 
 struck One. Over the University of Erfurt, Luther heard 
 it strike Nine. In the rockings of the present century il 
 has sounded — Eleven. Thank God! It will strike — 
 Twelve. 
 
 99. THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 To marry,— or not to marry, — that is the question! 
 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 
 The sullen silence of these cobweb rooms, 
 
 Or seek in festive balls some cheerful dame, 
 
 And by uniting, end it. To live alone, — 
 
 No more; — and, by marrying, say we end 
 
 The heart-ache, and those throes and make-shifts 
 
 Bachelors are heirs to; 'tis a consummation 
 
 Devoutly to be wished ! 
 
 To marry; — to live in peace; — 
 Perchance in war; — ay, there's the rub; 
 For in the marriage state what ills may come, 
 When we have shuffled off our liberty. 
 Must give us pause. There's the respect 
 That makes us dread the bonds of wedlock; 
 For who could bear the noise of scolding wives. 
 The fits of spleen, th' extravagance of dress, 
 The thirst for plays, for concerts, and for balls, 
 The insolence of servants, and the spurns 
 That patient husbands from their consorts take, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLA.MATION. 313 
 
 When he himself might his quietus gain 
 By living single ? 
 
 Who would wish to bear 
 The jeering name of Bachelor, 
 But that the dread of something after marriage 
 (Ah, that vast expenditure of income, 
 The tongue can scarcely tell) puzzles the will, 
 And makes us rather choose the single life 
 Than go to gaol for debts we know not of! 
 Economy thus makes Bachelors of us still; 
 And thus our melancholy resolution 
 Is still increased upon more serious thought. 
 
 100. MISS MALONEY ON THE CHINESE QUESTION. 
 
 Scribner's Monthly. 
 
 Well, the ways and trials I had wid that Chineser I 
 couldn't be tellin'. Not a blissed thing cud I do, but he'd 
 be lookin' on wid his eyes cocked up'ard like two poomp- 
 handles, an' he widdout a speck or smitch o' whishkers on 
 him, an' his finger nails full a yard long. But it's dyin' 
 you'd be to see the missus a-larnin' him, an' he grinnin' an' 
 waggin' his pig-tail (which was pieced out long wid some 
 black shtoof, the haythin chate !) and gettin' into her ways 
 wonderful quick, I don't deny, imitatin' that sharp, you'd 
 be shurprised, an' ketchin' an' copyin' things the best of us 
 will do a-hurried wid work, yet don't want comin' to the 
 knowledge of the family — bad luck to him! 
 
 Is it ate ivid him? Arrah, an' would I be sittin' wid a 
 haythin, an' he a-atin' wid drum-sticks — yes, an' atin' dogs 
 an' cats unknownst to me, I warrant you, which it is the 
 custom of them Chinesers, till the thought made me that 
 sick I could die. An' didn't the crayture proffer to help me 
 a wake ago come Toosday, an' me a-foldin' down me clane 
 clothes for ironin', an' fill his haythin mouth wid water, an' 
 afore I could hinder squirrit it through his teeth stret over 
 the best linen table-cloth, and fold it up tight, as innercent 
 14 
 
314 orator's manual. 
 
 now as a baby, the dirrity baste ! But the worrest of all was 
 the copyin' he'd be doin' till ye'd be dishtracted. It's yerself 
 knows the tinder feet that's on me since iver I've bin in this 
 connthry. Well, owin' to that I fell into a way o' slippin' 
 me shoes off when I'd be settin' down to pale the praities or 
 the likes o' that; an', do ye mind! that haythin would do 
 the same thing after me, whiniver the missus set him to 
 parin' apples or tomaterses. The saints in heaven couldn't 
 have made him belave he cud kape the shoes on him when 
 he'd be paylin' anything. 
 
 Did I lave fur that? Faix an' I didn't. Didn't he get 
 me into throuble wid me missus, the haythin? You're 
 aware yersel' how the boondles comin' in from the grocery 
 often contains more'n'll go into anything dacently. So, for 
 that matter, I'd now and then take out a sup o' sugar, or 
 flour, or tay, an' wrap it in paper an' put it in me bit of a 
 box tucked under the ironin' blankit, the how it cuddent be 
 bodderin' any one. Well, what shud it be, but this blessed 
 Sathurday morn, the missus was a-spakin' pleasant an' re- 
 spec'ful wid me in me kitchen, when the grocer-boy comes 
 in an' stands fornenst her wid his boondles, an' she motions 
 like to Fing Wing (which I never would call him by that 
 name nor any other, but just haythin), she motions to him, 
 she does, for to take the boondles an' empty out the sugar, 
 an' what not, where they belongs. If you'll belave me, what 
 did that blatherin' Chineser do but take out a sup o' sugar, 
 an' a handful o' tay, an' a bit o' chase, right afore the missus, 
 wrap them into bits o' paper, an' I spacheless wid shurprise, 
 an' he the next minute up wid the ironin' blankit and pull- 
 in' out me box, wid a show o' bein' sly, to put them in. Och, 
 the Lord forgive me, but I clutched it, an' the missus sayin' 
 " Oh, Kitty! " in a way that 'ud cruddle your blood. " He's 
 a haythin nager," says I. " I've found you out," says she. 
 "I'll arrist him," says I. "It's you ought to be arristed,'* 
 says she. " You won't," says I. " I will," says she — an' so 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION". 315 
 
 it went till she give me such sass as I cuddent take from no 
 lady — an' I give her warnin' an' left that instant, an' she 
 a-pointin' ta the doore. 
 
 101. BROTHER WATKmS.— John B. Gmgh. 
 
 My beloved brethering, before I take my text I must 
 tell you about my parting with my old congregation. On 
 the morning of last Sabbath I went into the meeting-house 
 to preach my farewell discourse. Just in front of me sot 
 the old fathers and mothers in Israel; the tears coursed 
 down their furrowed cheeks; their tottering forms and 
 quivering lips breathed out a sad — fare ye well, h'other 
 Watkins — ah! Behind them sot the middle-aged men and 
 matrons; health and vigor beamed from every countenance, 
 and as they looked up I could see in their dreamy eyes — 
 fare ye ivell, brother Watkins — ah ! Behind them sot the 
 boys and girls that I had baptized and gathered into the 
 Sabbath-school. Many times had they been rude and bois- 
 terous, but now their merry laugh was hushed, and in the 
 silence I could hear — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! 
 Around, on the back seats, and in the aisles, stood and sot 
 the colored brethering, with their black faces and honest 
 hearts, and as I looked upon them I could see a — /are ye 
 well, brother Watkins — ah! When I had finished my dis- 
 course and shaken hands with the brethering — ah! I passed 
 out to take a last look at the old church — ah! the broken 
 steps, the flopping blinds, and moss-covered roof, suggested 
 only — fare ye ivell, brother Watkins — ah! I mounted my 
 old gray mare, with my earthly possessions in my saddle- 
 bags, and as I passed down the street the servant-girls stood 
 in the doors, and with their brooms waved me a — fare ye 
 well, brother Watkins — ah! As I passed out of the village 
 -the low wind blew softly through the waving branches of 
 the trees, and moaned — fare ye well, brother Watkins — ah! 
 
316 orator's manual. 
 
 I came down to the creek, and as the old mare stopped to 
 drink I could hear the water rippling over the pebbles a — 
 fare ye ivell, brother Watkins — ah! And even the little 
 fishes, as their bright fins glistened in the sunlight, I 
 thought, gathered around to say, as best the}' could — fare 
 ye well, brother Watkins — ah! I was slowly passing up 
 the hill, meditating upon the sad vicissitudes and mutations 
 of life, when suddenly out bounded a big hog from a 
 fence-corner, with aboo! aboo! and I came to the ground 
 with my saddle-bag _ by my side. As I lay in the dust of 
 the road my id gray mare ran up the hill, and ns she 
 turned the top she v/aved her tail back at me, seemingly to 
 say — fare ye weV, brother Watkins — ah! I tell you, my 
 brethering, it is affecting times to part with a congregation 
 you have been with for over thirty years — ah ! 
 
 102. A CATASTROPHE. 
 
 On a pine woodshed, in an alley dark, where scattered 
 moonbeams, shifting through a row of tottering chimneys 
 and awnings torn and drooping, fell, strode back and forth, 
 with stiff and tense-drawn muscles and peculiar tread, a cat. 
 His name was Norval; on yonder neighboring sheds his 
 father caught the rats that came in squads from the streets 
 beyond Dupont, in search of food and strange adventure. 
 Grim war he courted, and his twisted tail and spine up- 
 heaving in fantastic curves, and claws distended, and ears 
 flatly pressed against a head thrown back defiantly, told of 
 impending strife. With eyes a-gleam and screeching blasts 
 of war, and steps as silent as the falling dew, young Norval 
 crept along the splintered edge, and gazed a moment 
 through the darkness down, with tail awag triumphantly. 
 Then with an imprecation and a growl — perhaps an oath 
 in direst vengeance hissed — he started back, and crooking 
 bis body like a letter S, or like a U inverted (0), stood in 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 317 
 
 fierce expectancy. 'Twas well. With eyeballs glaring and 
 ears aslant, and open mouth, in which two rows of fangs 
 stood forth in sharp and dread conformity, slap up a post 
 from out the dark below, a head appeared. A dreadful toc- 
 sin of determined strife young Norval uttered, then, with a 
 face unblanched and mustache standing straight before his 
 nose, and tail flung wildly to the passing breeze, stepped 
 back in cautious invitation to the foe. Approaching each 
 other, with preparations dire, each cat surveyed the vantage 
 of the field. Around they walked, tails uplifted and backs 
 high in air, while from their mouths, in accents hissing 
 with consuming rage, dropped brief but awful sentences of 
 hate. Twice around they went in circle, each eye upon the 
 foe intently bent, then sideways moving, — as is wont with 
 cats, — gave one long-drawn, terrific^ savage yeoiv, and 
 buckled in. 
 
 103. BUZFUZ VERSUS PICKWICK.— C%a?Ves Dickens. 
 
 You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen of 
 the jury, that this is an action for a breach of promise of 
 marriage, in which the damages are laid at fifteen hundred 
 pounds. The plaintifi", gentlemen, is a widow — yes. gen- 
 tlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, some time before 
 his death, became the father, gentlemen, of a little boy. 
 With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed excise- 
 man, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the 
 retirement and tranquillity of Goswell street; and here she 
 placed in her front parlor window a written placard, bear- 
 ing this inscription: "Apartments furnished, for a single 
 gentleman. Inquire within." Mrs. Bardell's opinions of 
 the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long con- 
 templation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. 
 She had no fear — she had no distrust — all was confidence 
 and reliance. " Mr. Bardell," said the widow, " was a man 
 
318 ORATOR'S MANUAL. 
 
 of honor, — Mr. Bardell was a man of his word, — Mr. Bar- 
 dell was no deceiver, — Mr. Bardell was once a single gen- 
 tleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection, 
 for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation; — in single 
 gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me 
 of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and 
 untried affections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my 
 lodgings be let." 
 
 Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among 
 the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the 
 lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her 
 first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, 
 and put the bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain 
 there long? No. The serpent was on the watch; the train 
 was laid; the mine was preparing; the sapper and miner 
 was at work! Before the bill had been in the parlor win- 
 dow three days — three days, gentlemen — a being, erect 
 upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a 
 man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. 
 Bardeirs house. He inquired within, he took the lodgings, 
 and on the very next day he entered into possession of 
 them. This man was Pickwick — Pickwick the defendant. 
 
 Of this man I will say little. The subject presents but 
 few attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are 
 you, gentlemen, the men, to delight in the contemplation of 
 revolting heartlessness, and of systematic villainy. I say 
 systematic villainy, gentlemen; and when I say systematic 
 villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in 
 court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more 
 decent in him, more becoming, if he had stopped away. Let 
 me tell him, further, that a counsel, in the discharge of his 
 duty, is neither to be intimidated, nor bullied, nor put 
 down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the 
 other will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plain- 
 
SELECTIOI^S FOR DECLAMATION". 319 
 
 tift' or be he defendant; be liis name Pickwick, or Noakes, 
 or Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson. 
 
 I shall show 3^ou, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick 
 continued to reside constantly, and without any interrup- 
 tion or intermission, at Mrs. Bardell's house. I shall show 
 you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole of that time, waited 
 on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked 
 out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, 
 darned, aired and prepared it for wear when it came home, 
 and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I 
 shall show you that on many occasions he gave halfpence, 
 and on some occasions even sixpences, to her little boy. I 
 shall prove to you that on one occasion, when he returned 
 from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her 
 marriage; previously, however, taking special care that 
 (here should be no witness to their solemn contract. And 
 I am in a situation to prove to you, on the testimony of 
 three of his own friends — most unwilling witnesses, gen- 
 tlemen — most unwilling witnesses — that on that morning 
 he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms, 
 and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments. 
 
 And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters 
 have passed between these parties — letters that must be 
 viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye — letters that 
 were evidently intended, at the time, by Pickwick, to mis- 
 lead and delude any third parties into whose hands they 
 might fall. Let me read the first: — " Garraway's, twelve 
 o'clock. — Dear Mrs. B.: Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, 
 Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and 
 tomato sauce! Yours, Pickivick! Chops! — gracious heav- 
 ens! — and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of 
 a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away by such 
 shallow artifices as these? The next has no date whatever, 
 which is in itself suspicious. " Dear Mrs. B.: I shall not be 
 
320 OBATOR'S MAl^UAL. 
 
 at home till to-morrow. Slow coach." And then follows 
 this very remarkable expression: — "Don't trouble yourself 
 about the warming-pan." The warming-pan! Why, gen- 
 tlemen, ivho does trouble himself about a warming-pan? 
 Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not to agitate 
 herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the 
 case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire — a mere substitute 
 for some endearing word or promise, agreeably to a precon- 
 certed system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pick- 
 wick with a view to his contemplated desertion? And what 
 does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I 
 know it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has 
 most unquestionably been a criminally slow coach during 
 the whole of this transaction, but whose speed will now be 
 very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels, gentlemen, 
 as he will find to his cost, will very soon be greased by you. 
 But enough of this, gentlemen. It is difficult to smile 
 with an aching heart. My client's hopes and prospects are 
 ruined; and it is no figure of speech to say thnt her " occu- 
 pation is gone" indeed. The bill is down; but there is no 
 tenant. Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass; but 
 there is no invitation for them to inquire within or with- 
 out. All is gloom and silence in the house; even the voice 
 of the child is hushed; his infant sports are disregarded 
 when his mother weeps. But Pickwick, gentlemen — Pick- 
 wick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in the 
 desert of Goswell street — Pickwick, who has choked up the 
 well, and thrown ashes on the sward — Pickwick, who 
 comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and 
 warming-pans — Pickwick still rears his head with un- 
 blushing eff'rontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin 
 he has made! Damages, gentlemen, heavy damages, is the 
 only punishment with which you can visit him — the only 
 recompense you can award to my client. And for those 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 321 
 
 damages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, 
 a right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympa- 
 thizing, a contemplative jury of her civilized countrymen. 
 
 104. SPEECH OF M. HECTOR De LONGUEBEAU.— r. Mosely. 
 
 Milors and gentlemans! You excellent chairman, M. le 
 Baron de Mount-Stuart, he have say to me, " Make de toast." 
 Den I say to him dat I have no toast to make; but he nudge 
 my elbow ver soft, and say dat dere is von toast dat nobody 
 but von Frenchman can make proper; and derefore, wid 
 your kind permission, I vill make de toast. " De brevete is 
 de sole of de feet," as you great philosophere, Dr. Johnson, 
 do say, in dat amusing little vork of his, de Pronouncing 
 Dictionaire; and derefore I vill not say ver mooch to de 
 point. Ven I vas a boy, about so mooch tall, and used for to 
 promenade de streets of Marseilles et of Rouen, vid no feet 
 to put onto my shoe, I nevare to have expose dat dis day 
 would to have arrive. I vas to begin de vorld as von gargon 
 — or vat you call in dis countrie von vataire in a cafe — 
 vere I vork ver hard, vid no habilimens at all to put onto 
 myself, and ver little food to eat, excep' von old bleu blouse 
 vat vas give to me by de proprietaire, just for to keep my- 
 self fit to be showed at; but, tank goodness, tings dey have 
 change ver mooch for me since dat time, and I have rose my- 
 self, seulement par mon Industrie et perseverance. (Loud 
 cheers.) Ah! mes amis! ven I hear to myself de flowing 
 speech, de oration magnifique, of you Lor' Maire, Monsieur 
 Gobbledown, I feel dat it is von great privilege for von 
 etranger to sit at de same table, and to eat de same food, as 
 dat grand, dat majestique man, who are de terreur of de 
 voleurs and de brigands of de metropolis ; and who is also, 
 I for to suppose, a halterman and de chef of you common 
 scoundrel. Milors and gentlemans, I feel dat I can perspire 
 to no greataire honneur dan to be von common scoundrel- 
 
322 orator's manual. 
 
 man myself; but, helas ! dat plaisir are not for me, as I are 
 not freeman of your great cite, not von liveryman servant 
 of von of you compagnies joint-stock. But I must not for- 
 get de toast. Milors and gentlemans ! De immortal Shak- 
 ispeare he have write, " De ting of beauty are de joy for 
 nevermore." It is de ladies who are de toast. Vat is more 
 entrancing dan de charmante smile, de soft voice, de vinking 
 eye, of de beautiful lady! It is de ladies who do sweeten 
 de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding stars of 
 our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not inebri- 
 ate, and derefore, vid all homage to dere sex, de toast dat 
 I have to propose is, "De Ladies! God bless dem all! " 
 
 105. CAUDLE HAS BEEN MADE A MASON.— Dow^/as Jerrold. 
 
 Now, Mr. Caudle, — Mr. Caudle, I say: oh, you can't be 
 asleep already, I know! Now, what I mean to say is this: 
 there's no use, none at all, in our having any disturbance 
 about the matter; but at last my mind's made up, Mr. Cau- 
 dle: I shall leave you. Either I know all you've been doing 
 to-night, or to-morrow morning I quit the house. No, no. 
 There's an end of the married state, I think, — an end of all 
 confidence between man and wife, — if a husband's to have 
 secrets and keep 'em all to himself. Pretty secrets they 
 must be, when his own wife can't know 'em. Not fit for 
 any decent person to know, I'm sure, if that's the case. 
 Now, Caudle, don't let us quarrel, there's a good soul: tell 
 me, what's it all about? A pack of nonsense, I dare say; 
 still, — not that I care much about it, — still, I should like to 
 know. There's a dear. Eh? OA, dont tell me there's nothing 
 in it; I know better. I'm not a fool, Mr. Caudle; I know 
 there's a good deal in it. Now, Caudle, just tell me a little 
 bit of it. I'm sure I'd tell you anything. You know I 
 would. Well? 
 
 And you're not going to let me know the secret, eh? You 
 
SELECTIONS FOU DECLAMATION". 323 
 
 mean to say — you're not? Now, Caudle, you know it's a 
 hard matter to put me in a passion, — not that T care about 
 the secret itself; no, I wouldn't give a button to know it, 
 for it's all nonsense, I'm sure. It isn't the secret I care 
 about; it's the slight, Mr. Caudle; it's the studied insult that 
 a man pays to his wife when he thinks of going through the 
 world keeping something to himself which he won't let her 
 know. Man and wife one, indeed ! I should like to know how 
 that can be when a man's a mason, — when he keeps a secret 
 that sets him and his wife apart? Ha! you men make the 
 laws, and so you take good care to have all the best of them 
 to yourselves; otherwise a woman ought to be allowed a 
 divorce when a man becomes a mason, — when he's got a 
 sort of corner-cupboard in his heart, a secret place in his 
 mind, that his poor wife isn't allowed to rummage. 
 
 Was there ever such a man? A man, indeed! A brute! 
 — yes, Mr. Caudle, an unfeeling, brutal creature, when you 
 might oblige me, and you won't. I'm sure I don't object to 
 your being a mason; not at all, Caudle; I dare say it's a 
 very good thing; I dare say it is: it's only your making a 
 secret of it that vexes me. But you'll tell me, — you'll tell 
 your own Margaret? You won't? You're a wretch, Mr. 
 Caudle. 
 
 106. THE JESTER CONDEMNED. -Horace ^S'mii!^. 
 
 One of the kings of Scanderoon, 
 
 A royal jester, 
 Had in his train a gross buffoon, 
 
 Who used to pester 
 The court with tricks inopportune, 
 Venting on the highest folks his 
 Scurvy pleasantries and hoaxes. 
 
 It needs some sense to play the fool, 
 
 Which wholesome rule 
 Occurred not to our jackanapes, 
 
324 oeator's manual. 
 
 Who consequently found his freaks 
 Lead to innumerable scrapes, 
 
 And quite as many kicks and tweaks 
 Which only seemed to make him faster 
 Try the patience of his master. 
 
 Some sin, at last, beyond all measure, 
 Incurred the desperate displeasure 
 
 Of his serene and raging Highness; 
 Whether he twitched his most revered 
 And sacred beard, 
 
 Or had intruded on the shyness 
 Of the seraglio, or let fly 
 An epigram at royalty. 
 None knows: his sin was an occult one; 
 But record tells us that the Sultan 
 Meaning to terrify the knave, 
 
 Exclaimed, " Tis time to stop that breath; 
 Thy doom is sealed; — presumptuous slave! 
 
 Thou stand'st condemned to certain death. 
 Silence, base rebel! — no replying; 
 
 But such is my indulgence still. 
 
 That, of my own free grace and will, 
 I leave to thee the mode of dying." 
 
 " Thy royal will be done, — 'tis just," 
 Replied the wretch, and kissed the dust; 
 
 " Since, my last moments to assuage. 
 Your Majesty's humane decree 
 Has deigned to leave the choice to me, 
 
 I'll die, so please you, of old age! " 
 
 107. A MODEST 'WIT.—Anonyrnms. 
 
 A supercilious nabob of the east — 
 
 Haughty, being great — purse-proud, being rich, 
 A governor, or general, at the least, — 
 
 I have forgotten which, — 
 Had in his family an humble youth. 
 
 Who went from England in his patron's suite, 
 An unassuming boy, and in truth 
 
 A lad of decent parts, and good repute. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 325 
 
 This youth had sense and spirit; 
 
 But yet, with all his sense, 
 
 Excessive diffidence 
 Obscured his merit. 
 
 One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, 
 
 His honor, proudly free, severely merry, 
 Conceived it would be vastly fine 
 
 To crack a joke upon his secretary. 
 
 "Young man," he said, "by what art, craft or trade 
 Did your good father gain a livelihood? " 
 
 *'He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, 
 "And in his time was reckoned good." 
 
 "A saddler, eh ! and taught you Greek, 
 
 Instead of teaching you to sew ! 
 ?ray, why did not your father make 
 
 A saddler, sir, of you ? ' ' 
 
 Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, 
 
 The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. 
 
 At length Modestus, bowing low. 
 
 Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), 
 " Sir, by your leave, I fain would know 
 
 Your father's trade! " 
 
 " My father's trade! By heaven, that's too bad! 
 My father's trade? Why, blockhead, are you mad? 
 My father, sir, did never stoop so low — 
 He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." 
 
 " Excuse the liberty I take," 
 
 Modestus said, with archness on his brow, 
 '* Pray, why did not your father make 
 
 A gentleman of you? " 
 
326 orator's makual. 
 
 108. THE SHADOW ON THE BLIND. 
 
 Mr. Plum was retiring to rest one night, 
 He had just undressed and put out the light, 
 
 And pulled back the blind 
 
 As he peeped from behind 
 ("lis a custom with many to do so, you'll find), 
 
 When, glancing his eye, 
 
 He happened to spy 
 On the blinds on the opposite side — oh, fie! 
 Two shadows ; each movement of course he could see 
 And the people were quarreling, evidently. 
 "Well, I never!" said Plum, as he witnessed the strife, 
 " I declare 'tis the minister beating his wife! " 
 The minister held a thick stick in his hand, 
 And his wife ran away as he shook the brand, 
 Whilst her shrieks and cries were quite shocking to hear, 
 And the sounds came across most remarkably clear. 
 
 " Well, things are deceiving. 
 
 But — ' seemg's believing,' " 
 Said Plum to himself, as he turned into bed; 
 
 * ' Now, who would have thought 
 
 That man would have fought. 
 And beaten his wife on her shoulders and head 
 
 With a great big stick 
 
 At least three inches thick ? 
 I am sure her shrieks quite filled me with dread. 
 
 I've a great mind to bring 
 
 The whole of the thing 
 Before the church members; but no, I have read 
 A proverb which says, 'Least said soonest mended.' '* 
 And thus Mr. Plum's mild soliloquy ended. 
 
 But, alas! Mr. Plum's eldest daughter. Miss Jane, 
 Saw the whole of the scene, and could not refrain 
 From telling Miss Spot, and Miss Spot told again 
 (Though of course in strict confidence) every one 
 Whom she happened to know, what the parson had done. 
 So the news spread abroad, and soon reached the ear 
 Of the parson himself, and he traced it, I hear, 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 32? 
 
 To the author, Miss Jane, Jane could not deny 
 But at the same time she begged leave to defy 
 The parson to prove she had uttered a Ue. 
 
 A church meeting was called: Mr. Plum made a speech. 
 He said, *' Friends, pray listen awhile, I beseech. 
 What my daughter has said is most certainly true, 
 For I saw the whole scene on the same evening, too; 
 But, not wishing to make an unpleasantness rife, 
 I did not tell either my daughter or wife. 
 But of course as Miss Jane saw the whole of the act, 
 I think it but right to attest to the fact." 
 
 *' 'Tis remarkably strange! " the parson replied: 
 *' It is plain Mr. Plum must something have spied; 
 Though the wife-beating story of course is denied; 
 And in that I can say I am grossly belied." 
 While he ransacks his brain, and ponders, and tries 
 To recall any scene that could ever give rise 
 To so monstrous a charge, — just then his wife cries, 
 " I have it, my lover you remember that night 
 When I had such a horrible, terrible fright. 
 We both were retiring that evening to rest, — 
 I was seated, my dear, and but partly undressed, 
 When a nasty large rat jumped close to my feet; , 
 My shrieking was heard, I suppose, in the street; ' 
 You caught up the poker and ran round the room, 
 And at last knocked the rat, and so sealed its doom. 
 Our shadows, my love, must have played on the blind; 
 And this is the mystery solved, you will find." 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Don't believe every tale that is handed about; 
 We have all enough faults and real failings, without 
 Being burdened with those of which there's a doubt. 
 If you study this tale, I think, too, you will find 
 That a light should be placed in the front, not behind: 
 For often strange shadows are seen on the blind. 
 
328 okator's manual. 
 
 109. THE MARCH TO MOSCOW.— Bobert SmtTiey. 
 
 The Emperor Nap he would set off 
 On a summer excursion to Moscow; 
 The fields were green and the sky was blue,- 
 Morbleu! Parbleu! 
 What a pleasant excursion to Moscow! 
 
 The Emperor Nap he talked so big 
 
 That he frightened Mr. Roscoe. 
 John Bull, he cries, if you'll be wise, 
 Ask the Emperor Nap if he will please 
 To grant you peace, upon your knees, 
 
 Because he is going to Moscow ! 
 He'll make all the Poles come out of their holes, 
 And beat the Russians, and eat the Prussians; 
 
 For the fields are green, and the sky is blue,— 
 Morbleu! Parbleu! 
 
 And he'll certainly march to Moscow! 
 
 And Counsellor Brougham was all in a fume 
 At the thought of the march to Moscow : 
 The Russians, he said, they were undone, 
 And the great Fee-Faw-Fum 
 Would presently come, 
 
 With a hop, step and jump, unto London. 
 
 But the Russians stoutly they turned to 
 
 Upon the road to Moscow. 
 Nap had to fight his way all through. 
 They could fight, though they could not parlez vous; 
 But the fields were green, and the sky was blue, — 
 Morbleu! Parbleu! 
 And so he got to Moscow. 
 
 He found the place too warm for him. 
 
 For they set fire to Moscow. 
 To get there had cost him much ado, 
 And then no better course he knew, 
 While the fields were green, and the sky was blue, — 
 Morbleu! Parbleu! 
 But to march back again from Moscow. 
 
SELECTION'S FOR DECLAMATION. 329 
 
 The Russians they stuck close to him 
 
 All on the road from Moscow. 
 There was Tormazow and Jemalow, 
 And all the others that end in ow; 
 Milarodovitch and Jaladovitch, 
 And Karatschkowitch, 
 And all the others that end in itch; 
 Schamscheff, Souchosaneff, 
 And Schepaleff, 
 And all the others that end in eff; 
 Wasiltschikoff, Kostomaroff, 
 And Tchoglokoff, 
 And all the others that end in off; 
 Rajeffsky, and Novereffsky, 
 And Rieffsky, 
 And all the others that end in effsky; 
 
 Oscharoffsky and Rostoffsky, 
 And all the others that end in offsky; 
 And Platoff he play'd them off, 
 And Shouvaloff he shovelled them off, 
 And Markoff he marked them off, 
 And Krosnoff he crossed them off, 
 And Tnchkoff he touched them off, 
 And Boraskoff he bored them off, 
 And Kutousoft" he cut them off, 
 And Parenzoff he pared them off, 
 And Worronzoff he worried them off, 
 And Doctoroff he doctored them off. 
 And Rodionoff he flogged them off, 
 And, last of all, an admiral came, 
 A terrible man with a terrible name, 
 A name which you all know by sight very well, 
 But which no one can speak, and no one can spell. 
 They stuck close to Nap with all their might; 
 
 They were on the left and on the right. 
 Behind and before, and by day and by night; 
 He would rather parlez vous than fight; 
 But he looked white, and he looked blue, 
 Morbleu! Parbleu! 
 When parlez vous no more would do. 
 For they remembered Moscow. 
 14* 
 
330 orator's manual. 
 
 And then came on the frost and snow, 
 
 All on the road from Moscow. 
 The wind and the weather he found, in that hour, 
 Cared nothing- for him, nor for all his power; 
 For him who, while Europe crouched under his rod. 
 Put his trust in his Fortune, and not in his God. 
 
 Worse and worse every day the elements grew, 
 
 The fields were so white and the sky so blue, 
 Sacrebleu ! Ventrebleu ! 
 
 What a horrible journey from Moscow! 
 
 110. HISTORY OF JOHN DAY.— Thomas Rood. 
 
 John Day, he was the biggest man 
 
 Of all the coachman kind, 
 With back too broad to be conceived 
 
 By any narrow mind. 
 
 The very horses knew his weight. 
 
 When he was in the rear. 
 And wished his box a Christmas-box, 
 
 To come but once a year. 
 
 Alas ! against the shafts of love 
 
 What armor can avail? 
 Soon Cupid sent an arrow through 
 
 His scarlet coat of mail. 
 
 The bar-maid of '* The Crown " he loved, 
 From whom he never ranged; 
 
 For, though he changed his horses there, 
 His love he never changed. 
 
 One day, as she was sitting down 
 
 Beside the porter pump, 
 He came and knelt, with all his fat, 
 
 And made an offer plump. 
 
 Said she, " My taste will never learn 
 
 To like so huge a man; 
 So I must beg you will come here 
 
 As little as you can." 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATIOIT. 331 
 
 But still he stoutly urged his suit, 
 
 With vows, and sighs and tears, 
 Yet could not pierce her heart, although 
 
 He drove the " Dart " for years. 
 
 In vain he wooed — in vain he sued, — 
 
 The maid was cold and proud, 
 And sent him off to Coventry 
 
 While on the way to Stroud. 
 
 He fretted all the way to Stroud, 
 
 And thence all back to town; 
 The course of love was never smooth. 
 
 So his went up and down. 
 
 At last, her coldness made him pine 
 
 To merely bones and skin ; 
 But still he loved like one resolved 
 
 To love through thick and thin. 
 
 *' Oh, Mary! view my wasted back. 
 
 And see my dwindled calf! 
 Though I have never had a wife, 
 
 I've lost my better half! " 
 
 Alas! in vain he still assailed, 
 
 Her heart withstood the dint; 
 Though he had carried sixteen stone, 
 
 He could not move a flint! 
 
 Worn out, at last he made a vow, 
 
 To break his being's link, 
 For he was so reduced in size. 
 
 At nothing he could shrink. 
 
 Now, some will talk in water's praise, 
 
 And waste a deal of breath; 
 But John, though he drank nothing else, 
 
 He drank himself to death. 
 
 The cruel maid, that caused his love, 
 
 Found out the fatal close. 
 For looking in the butt she saw 
 
 The butt end of his woes. 
 
332 orator's MAl^rUAL. 
 
 Some say his spirit haunts the ** Crown, 
 
 But that is only talk; 
 For after riding all his life, 
 
 His ghost objects to walk. 
 
 111. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OP A MAD HOGt.- Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
 Good people all, of every sort, 
 
 Give ear unto my song; 
 And, if you find it wondrous short, — 
 
 It cannot hold you long. 
 
 In Islington there was a man. 
 
 Of whom the world might say, 
 That still a godly race he ran, — 
 
 Whene'er he went to pray. 
 
 A kind and gentle heart he haa, 
 
 To comfort friends and foes; 
 The naked every day he clad, — 
 
 When he put on his clothes. 
 
 And in that town a dog was found, 
 
 As many dogs there be, 
 Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, 
 
 And curs of low degree. 
 
 This dog and man at first were friends; 
 
 But when a pique began. 
 The dog, to gain some private ends. 
 
 Went mad and bit the man. 
 
 Around from all the neighboring streets 
 
 The wondering neighbors ran. 
 And swore the dog had lost his wits 
 
 To bite so good a man. 
 
 The wound it seemed both sore and sad 
 
 To every Christian eye; 
 And while they swore the dog was mad, 
 
 They swore the man would die. 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 333 
 
 But soon a wonder came to light, 
 
 That showed the rogues they liedj 
 The man recovered of the bite, 
 
 The dog it was that died. 
 
 112. TRUTH IN PARENTHESES.- TAoTno^ Eood. 
 
 I really take it very kind, — 
 
 This visit, Mrs. Skinner; 
 I have not seen you such an age — 
 
 (The wretch has come to dinner!) 
 Your daughters, too, what loves of girls! 
 
 What heads for painters' easels! 
 Come here, and kiss the infant, dears, — 
 
 (And give it, p'rhaps, the measles!) 
 
 Your charming little niece, and Tom, 
 
 From Reverend Mr. Russell's; 
 'Twas veiy kind to bring them both — 
 
 (What boots for my new Brussels !) 
 What! little Clara left at home! 
 
 Well, now, I call that shabby! 
 I should have loved to kiss her so — 
 
 (A flabby, dabby babby!) 
 
 And Mr. S., I hope he's well, — 
 
 But, though he lives so handy, 
 He never drops once in to sup — 
 
 (The better for our brandy!) 
 Come, take a seat, — I long to hear 
 
 About Matilda's marriage; 
 You've come, of course, to spend the day — 
 
 (Thank Heaven! I hear the carriage!) 
 
 What ! must you go ? — next time, I hope, 
 
 You'll give me longer measure: 
 Nay, I shall see you down the stairs — 
 
 (With most uncommon pleasure!) 
 Good-by! good-by! Remember, all. 
 
 Next time you'll take your dinners — 
 (Now, David, mind, — I'm not at home, 
 
 In future, to the Skinners.) 
 
334 oeator's man^ual. 
 
 PATHETIC. 
 
 228. Pathos requires concrete tones (§ 87) and semitonic melody 
 (§ 89), effusive, sustained force (§ 109), a frequent use of tremulous 
 stress (§ 105), snadpure (§ 131) or orotund (§ 135) quality. 
 
 113. THE LEPER.— i\r. P. Willis. 
 
 ** Room for the leper! Room!" And as he came 
 The cry passed on, — "Room for the leper! Room! " 
 
 * * * And aside they stood, 
 Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood — all 
 Who met him on his way, — and let him pass. 
 And onward through the open gate he came, 
 A leper with the ashes on his brow. 
 Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip 
 
 A covering, stepping painfully and slow, 
 And with a difficult utterance, like one 
 Whos^ heart is with an iron nerve put down, 
 Crying, ' ' Unclean ! — Unclean ! ' ' 
 
 * * * Day was breaking 
 When at the altar of the temple stood 
 The holy priest of God. The incense-lamp 
 Burned with a struggling light, and a low chant 
 Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof 
 Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, 
 Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. 
 
 The echoes of the melancholy strain 
 
 Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up. 
 
 Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head 
 
 Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off 
 
 His costly raiment for the leper's garb. 
 
 And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip 
 
 Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still 
 
 Waiting to hear his doom : 
 
 ' ' Depart ! depart, child 
 Of Israel, from the temple of thy God, 
 For he has smote thee with his chastening rod, 
 
 And to the desert wild, 
 
SELECTIOi^S FOR DECLAMATIOJST. 335 
 
 From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, 
 That from thy plague his people may be free. 
 
 ** Depart! and come not near 
 The busy mart, the crowded city, more, 
 Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er; 
 
 And stay thou not to hear 
 Voices that call thee in the way, and fly 
 From all who in the wilderness pass by. 
 
 " Wet not thy burning lip 
 In streams that to a human dwelling glide, 
 Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide, 
 
 Nor kneel thee down to dip 
 The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, 
 By desert well, or river's grassy brink. 
 
 **And pass not thou between 
 The weary traveler and the cooling breeze, 
 And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees 
 
 Where human tracks are seen; 
 Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, 
 Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. 
 
 "And now depart! and when 
 Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim. 
 Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to him 
 
 Who from the tribes of men 
 Selected thee to feel his chastening rod. 
 Depart, leper! and forget not God! " 
 
 And he went forth, — alone! not one of all 
 The many whom he loved, nor she whose name 
 Was woven in the fibers of the heart 
 Breaking within him now, to come and speak 
 Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, 
 Sick and heart-broken, and alone, — to die I 
 For God had cursed the leper! 
 
 It was noon. 
 And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 
 In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, 
 Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 
 
336 orator's manual. 
 
 The loathsome water to his fevered lips, 
 Praying that he might be so blest, — to die ! 
 Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, 
 He drew the covering closer on his lip, 
 Crying, " Unclean! Unclean! " and in the folds 
 Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, 
 He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
 Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er 
 The leper's prostrate form pronounced his name. 
 ' ' Helon ! ' ' — the voice was like the master- tone 
 Of a rich instrument, — most strangely sweet; 
 And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
 And for a moment beat beneath the hot 
 And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
 " Helon! arise! " and he forgot his curse. 
 And rose and stood before him. 
 
 Love and awe 
 Mingled in the regard of Helon 's eye 
 As he beheld the stranger. He was not 
 In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow 
 The symbol of a princely lineage wore; 
 No followers at his back, nor in his hand 
 Buckler, or sword, or spear, — yet in his mien 
 Command sat throned serene, and if he smiled, 
 A kingly condescension graced his lips 
 The lion would have crouched to in his lair. 
 His garb was simple, and his sandals worn; 
 His stature modeled with a perfect grace; 
 His countenance, the impress of a God, 
 Touched with the open innocence of a child; 
 His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
 In the serenest noon; his hair unshorn 
 Fell to his shoulders, and his curling beard 
 The fullness of perfected manhood bore. 
 He looked on Helon earnestly awhile, 
 As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down, 
 He took a little water in his hand 
 And laid it on his brow, and said, " Be clean! " 
 And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood 
 Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, 
 
SELECTIONS FOU i)ECLAMATIOi^. 337 
 
 And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow 
 The dewy softness of an infant's stole. 
 His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down 
 Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshiped him^ 
 
 114. THE BRIDGE OP SIGUS.— Thomas Hood. 
 
 One more unfortunate, 
 Weary of breath, 
 Rashly importunate, 
 Gone to her death! 
 
 Take her up tenderly. 
 Lift her with care, 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 Young, and so fair ! 
 
 Look at her garments 
 Clinging like cerements, 
 Whilst the wave constantly 
 Drips from her clothing; 
 Take her up instantly, 
 Loving, not loathing! 
 
 Touch her not scornfully! 
 Think of her mournfully, 
 Gently and humanly, — 
 Not of the stains of her; 
 AU that remains of her 
 Now is pure womanly. 
 
 Make no deep scrutiny 
 Into her mutiny, 
 Rash and undutiful; 
 Past all dishonor, 
 Death has left on hei 
 Only the beautiful 
 
 Still, for all slips of hers, — 
 One of Eve's family, — 
 Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
 Oozing so clammily. 
 15 
 
338 orator's manual. 
 
 Loop up her tresses 
 Escaped from the comb, — 
 Her fair auburn tresses, — 
 Whilst wonderment guesses 
 Where was her home? 
 
 Who was her father? 
 Who was her mother? 
 Had she a sister? 
 Had she a brother? 
 Or was there a dearer one 
 Still, and a nearer one 
 Yet, than all other? 
 
 Alas! for the rarity 
 Of Christian charity 
 Under the sun ! 
 Oh, it was pitiful! 
 Near a whole city full, 
 Home she had none. 
 
 Sisterly, brotherly, 
 Fatherly, motherly 
 Feeling's had changed, — 
 Love, by harsh evidence. 
 Thrown from its eminence; 
 Even God's providence 
 Seeming estranged. 
 
 Where the lamps quiver 
 So far in the river, 
 With many a light 
 From window and casement, 
 From garret to basement, 
 She stood with amazement, 
 Houseless by night. 
 
 The bleak wind of March 
 Made her tremble and shiver; 
 But not the dark arch, 
 Or the black flowing river; 
 
SELECTIONS FOR DECLAMATION. 339 
 
 Mad from life's history, 
 Glad to death's mystery, 
 Swift to be hurled — 
 Anywhere, anywhere 
 Out of the world! 
 
 In she plunged boldly, — 
 No matter how coldly 
 The rough river ran — 
 Over the brink of it! 
 Picture it, — think of it! 
 Dissolute man! 
 Lave in it, drink of it. 
 Then, if you can! 
 
 Take her up tenderly, 
 Lift her with care ! 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 Young and so fair! 
 
 Ere her limbs, frigidly, 
 Stiffen too rigidly. 
 Decently, kindly. 
 Smooth and compose them; 
 And her eyes, close them, 
 Staring so blindly! 
 Dreadfully staring 
 Through muddy impurity, 
 As when with the daring 
 Last look of despairing 
 Fixed on futurity. 
 
 Perishing gloomily. 
 Spurred by contumely, 
 Cold inhumanity. 
 Burning insanity. 
 Into her rest! 
 Cross her hands humbly, 
 As if praying dumbly, 
 Over her breast! 
 
340 orator's mais'Ual. 
 
 Owning her weakness, 
 Her evil behavior, 
 And leaving, with meekness, 
 Her sins to her Savior! 
 
 115. DAVID'S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.— i\r. P. Willis. 
 
 King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 
 
 From far Jerusalem; and now he stood 
 
 With his faint people for a little rest 
 
 Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 
 
 Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 
 
 To its refreshing breath; for he had worn 
 
 The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
 
 That he could see his people until now. 
 
 They gathered round him on the fresh green bank 
 
 And spoke their kindly words, and as the sun 
 
 Rose up in heaven he knelt among them there, 
 
 And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 
 
 Oh, when the heart is full — where bitter thoughts 
 
 Come crowding thickly up for utterance, 
 
 And the poor common words of courtesy 
 
 Are such a mockery — how much 
 
 The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer. 
 
 He prayed for Israel — and his voice went up 
 
 Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 
 
 Whose love had been his shield — and his deep tones 
 
 Grew tremulous. But, oh, for Absalom, 
 
 For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 
 
 The proud, bright being who had burst away 
 
 In all his princely beauty to defy 
 
 The heart that cherished him — for him he prayed, 
 
 In agony that would not be controU'd, 
 
 Strong supplication, and forgave him there 
 
 Before his God for his deep sinfulness. 
 
 The pall was settled. He who slept beneath 
 Was straightened for the grave, and as the folds 
 Sank to their still proportions, they betrayed 
 The matchless symmetry of Absalom. 
 
SELECTIOi^S FOR DECLAMATION. 341 
 
 The mighty Joab stood beside the bier 
 
 And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, 
 
 As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 
 
 A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 
 
 As if a trumpet rang, but the bent form 
 
 Of David entered; and he gave command 
 
 In a low tone to his few followers, 
 
 And left him with the dead. 
 
 The king stood still 
 Till the last echo died; then, throwing off 
 The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back 
 The pall from the still features of his child, 
 He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
 In the resistless eloquence of woe: 
 
 *'Alas! my noble boy! that thou shouldst die ! 
 
 Thou who wert made so beautifully fair! 
 That death should settle in thy glorious eye, 
 
 And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! 
 How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 
 My proud boy, Absalom ! 
 
 *' Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill 
 As to my bosom I have tried to press thee! 
 
 How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill 
 
 Like a rich harp-string yearning to caress thee, 
 
 And hear thy sweet ' my father! ' from those dumb 
 And cold lips, Absalom! 
 
 " But death is on thee! I shall hear the gush 
 
 Of music, and the voices of the young; 
 And life will pass me in the mantling blush, 
 
 And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung; — 
 But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
 To meet me, Absalom! 
 
 "And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
 Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, 
 
 How will its love for thee, as I depart. 
 
 Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token! 
 
 It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
 To see thee, Absalom! 
 
342 orator's manual. 
 
 "And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to g-ive thee up, 
 With death so like a gentle slumber on thee! — 
 
 And thy dark sin! Oh, I could drink the cup, 
 If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 
 
 May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
 My lost boy, Absalom! " 
 
 He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
 A moment on his child; then, giving him 
 A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
 His hands convulsively, as if in prayer. 
 And, as if strength were given him of God, 
 He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
 Firmly and decently — and left him there, 
 As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 
 
 S^* The author is under obligations to Messrs. Houghton, Os- 
 good & Co., Charles Scribner's Sons, and other publishers, as well 
 as to Robert Lowell, Epes Sargent, and several authors, holding 
 the copyrights of various Selections in the foregoing pages, for their 
 kind permission to use the same. 
 
JAN .24 1907 
 
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