I, I Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/kingscollegelect00plum_0 /C 3^1-7 KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 'Saflantgne PAl.l.ANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. EDINBURGH AND J.ONDON KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES ELOCUTION; OK, TEE PHYSIOLOGY AND CULTURE OF VOICE AND SPEECH, AHd THE EXPRESSION OF THE EMOTIONS BY LANGUAGE, COUNTENANCE, AND GESTURE TO WHICH IS ADDED, A SPECIAL LECTURE ON THE CAUSES AND IMPEDIMENTS OE SPEECH. 3|iitrotiuctcir^ Course of Hectares ANNUALLY DELIVERED BY CHARLES JOHN PLUMPTKE, LECTURER ON PUBLIC READING AND SPEAKING AT KING's COLLEGE, LONDON, IN THE EVENING ( LASSES DEPARTMENT. DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION, TO H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES. ilrto antJ ©reatig felargctJ Clhistratcti ^tn'tion. LONDON: trubnp:r & CO., ludgate hill. 1883. lA// righis re served. \ 4 36 Hamilton Terrace, London, N.W. MR. CHARLES J. PLUMPTRE, LECTURER ON PUBLIC READING AND SPEAKING, KINGS COLLEGE, LONDON, EVENING CLASSES DEPARTMENT, Begs to announce that he lectures and gives practical instruction m Public Reading and Speaking to his classes at King’s College, every Tuesday and Friday Evening, from 8 till 9, during the Winter Session (beginning in October and ending in April), and every Tuesday in the Summer Session (beginning in April and ending m June), from 6.30 to 8 p.m. Private pupils and classes for instruction and practice in all the various branches of Elocution are received by Mr. Plumptre from October till August, at his residence, No. 36 Hamilton Terrace, N.W. Special arrangements are made for the reception of pupils suffering under any Impediments of Speech, Defective Articulation, or “Clerical Sore-Throat.” Arrangements are also made with Institutions, Colleges, and Schools, for a repeti- tion of the substance of Mr. Plumptre’s King’s College Course of Lectures, com- bined with practical instruction in the art of Reading Aloud and other blanches of Elocution. Courses of Lectures and practical instruction in Elocution are also given by Mr. Plumptre at Ladies’ Colleges and Schools, and Ladies are received as private pupils at his residence. N.B. All applications for Public or Private Recitals, Readings, or Lectures must be addressed to Mr. Plumptre’s private residence, 36 Hamilton Terrace, London, N.W. Terms and Testimonials forwarded on application at the above address. P'oreigners instructed thi'ough the medium of French, 5 PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. WO years only have elapsed since the Third Edition of my King’s College Lectures on Elocution ” was published, and for the last three months the work has been out of print. In the present edition I have only to express once more my most grateful appreciation of the favour with which the previous editions have been received, alike by the Press and the Public. The portrait in this edition, from a recent photograph by Messrs. Lombardi of Pall Mall East, is given (like those which appeared in the previous editions) in accordance with the wishes of my past and present classes at King’s College. CHARLES JOHN PLUMPTRE. King’s College, London, June 1883 . ARLY two years have elapsed since the second edition of this work was exhausted ; and I cannot but express my grateful thanks to the Press and to the Public for the very favourable and gratifying reception accorded to the preced- ing editions. I had hoped to have completed the task of preparing this still further enlarged and illustrated edition before the present time ; but the almost incessant employment of my days and nights as Lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking in the Evening Classes Department of King’s College, as a private teacher of Elocution, and in fulfilling engagements for Lectures and Recitals at Institutions in London and the Provinces, leaves me but scanty leisure for other occupations. In the present edition, I have derived very great advantage from the consultations I have had with Dr. Morell Mackenzie, Dr. Gordon Holmes, Dr. Shuldham, Mr. Lennox Browne, and Herr Emil Behnke, in regard to the larynx and its various functions, as well as from the works they have written on that subject, and to them all I beg to express my deep obligations. I have also to return my best thanks to Mr. Darwin for his kind permission to use his illustration of the muscles of expression in the human face, and to Dr. Gordon Holmes and Mr. Lennox Browne for theirs in regard to the diagrams which originally appeared in their respective works, as well to Mr. William Carter and Mr. Godfrey Hall for the excellent physiological drawings they have been good enough to niake for me as illustrations for this book. The portrait which appears in the present edition, from a recent photograph by Mayall, is given (like that which appeared in the former edition) at the request of my past and present classes at King’s College. I would venture to hope that this edition, amplified so greatly in its PREFACE. viii details, may serve to refresh the memories of former students who have attended my Lectures, during the many years I have held my present office at King’s College, as well as afford useful information and practical suggestions to those persons who may either desire to acquire the art of Elocution as a graceful and, in every way, beneficial accom- plishment, or those who suffering under what is known as “ clerical sore-throat,” impediments of speech, or defective articulation, may desire to be freed from those infirmities, or to those whose regular pro- fessional or public life may require them to be at least in some degree versed in the art of Public Reading or extempore speaking. This latter subject was but very slightly glanced at in my first book, and at Oxford and Cambridge I have confined my practical instruction entirely to the art of Public Reading. But at King’s College, instruction in Public Speaking is most properly added to that of Public Reading ; and with great reason, for it by no means follows that excellence in the one art is a guarantee of equal excellence in the other. Indeed, I have known more than one instance of a person acknowledged to be on all sides a first-rate Public Reader, being comparatively a very indifferent extejnpore speaker ; and I have known on the other hand a man, who for excellent and well-arranged thoughts, fluency of language, and free- dom and animation in delivery, would well deserve to be called an unusually good exte7npore speaker, yet comparatively fail and seem to be dull and tame, monotonous and fettered in every way, when reading from a book. Of course our aim should be equal excellence in both branches of the art which is taught, but on more than one occasion at King’s College, one man at the end of the Session has carried off the prize for Public Speaking, and another for Public Reading. It is therefore on this account that in the present volume I have devoted a considerable part to the subject of exte}7ipore speaking. I do not of course mean to say anything so absurd as that a man may be made an excellent Reader or Speaker merely by reading books, or hear- ing Lectures on Public Reading and Speaking, without actual practice. It would be equally as unreasonable to say that a person can become an excellent player on the organ or piano, or a fine vocalist, by studying a treatise on music or singing, without practice under a competent in- structor. But in all these cases acquaintance with the theory of the art is first requisite, and then the due practice regularly carried out will ensure more or less proficiency, according to natural gifts and steadiness of application. And this holds equally good in Public Reading and Speaking, as it is acknowledged to hold good in music, singing, painting, or any other art. I cannot conclude these few prefatory remarks better than by quoting PJREFA CE. IX the words of the late Dean of Ripon (the Rev. Hugh M‘Neile, D.D.), who in closing a course of Lectures on the Church of England, delivered nearly forty years ago at the Hanover Square Rooms, London, forcibly remarked in reference to educational training for the Ministry : — “ No one who has given even a passing attention to the habits and feelings of our people, can doubt of the imnwise effect produced by a ready and natural elocution : yet how little attention comparatively is paid to a right training for its acquirement ! Looking at all the minis- trations of the Church practically and in detail ; following them from the Pulpit to the Schoolroom ; from these to the Platform ; in whatever department of his labours you contemplate the minister of the Church, it would be difficult to estimate the advantage that might, uncter the divine blessing, be derived from Elocution classes in our Universities, where, under the management of competent professors, our young men might be trained in recitation, both of selections from standard authors and of their own compositions on set subjects. . . . Instead of superseding any part of the present process, this might be added to it all ; and if candidates for Orders were thereby delayed a year, there would be more than compensation for the delay in the increased competency for the work.” The ideas thus forcibly put forth by the eloquent divine who, in his own person, afforded a striking example of great natural powers of oratory, developed and cultivated by elocutionary study and practice to the highest degree of perfection, must have been more or less felt by thousands — laymen as well as clergymen— who have at all considered the subject in any of its many forms and phases. No one can look around him, indeed, without being impressed with their truth and importance. Earnestly do I hope that the time is at hand when the national reproach of not having a regular system of training in the arts (to the Church and the Bar the all-important arts) of Public Reading and Speaking, at our Universities, as suggested, not alone by the preacher whom I have quoted, but by many eminent thinkers and writers during the last twenty years, may be removed from amongst us ; and that ere long a regular Professorship of Elocution may be found attached not only to our great Universities, but to all Theological, Legal, and Collegiate Institutions throughout the country. CHARLES JOHN PLUMPTRE. King’s College, London, December 1880 . L'i 5 ^' ■'■ > i ^ itlili '’ l ’?' JL'!#*k •^-''' .■#&::’ ‘*1 ''tv f l< h'* i 'vt;f ' '■•ii' t-i "■i»-'W ♦* W ^ * ■ ( • ■' , ■ ;,^; vl)4' ' ** '1'#^?/ tV •'* « t '''’^' il ' _*_^^f.'.;'.f' f^'-' ■•,■ ■"''.'r' ■ v*'» ' ■'• •■fr&fl JPPf '- iV '’ '''^'' - f •.,■>«'!■: '(f .■.:)* .■.■ > t'M ■ : a,i ««V •"• iniyf’rt f ■ Tl JmEPi . ^'^‘^*"4 % - ' • ' ' :^i ' . iv/V •ti • Ky • ii'fT CONTENTS. LECTURE I. PAGE Introduction — What is Elocution? — Definition — Reasons for the Cultivation of Elocution— Answers to Objections— The Rev. E. Kirk — Extract from the Rev. J. B. Mayor’s “ Ethics of Ritual ” — The Advantages to be gained from a knowledge of the Principles of Elocution in regard to the various Professions, the Church, the Bar, &c. — Claims of Elocution to rank as one of the Fine Arts — Professor J. Hullah — Importance of the subject of Elocution generally — Authorities cited : John Stuart Mill, Dr. Guthrie, Mr. C. Palmer, Dr. Channing, Josliua Steele’s “ Prosodia Rationalis,” Sir Arthur Helps, Rev. F. Trench, Lord G. Hamilton, Archbishop of York, Professor Seeley, Pro- fessor F. W. Newman — Power, richness, and euphony of the English language — Sanitary Advantages of Elocution — Quotation from Sir Henry Holland’s ‘‘ Medical Notes ” — Dr. George Beard — Summary. . . . I LECTURE H. The Study of the English Language, viewed relatively in regard to other tongues — Importance of the Art of Delivery in Ancient Times — Causes suggested for its subsequent comparative neglect — The Subject viewed in reference to Public and Private Life — Quotation from the Rev. Canon Kingsley— The Rev. James Pycroft’s “Twenty Years in the Church” — Popular Readings as an Intellectual Recreation — Good results that might be attained by these means — General summary of the subjects discussed in these Lectures. . . . *23 LECTURE HI. How Elocution can best be studied — Analogy between the Study of Music and that of Elocution — Quotations from the American Physiologist, Dr. Rush — General Description of the Organs of Respiration — The Thorax or Chest — The Vertebrae, Ribs, and the Diaphragm and Muscles concerned in Respiration — The Lungs — Physiology of Respiration — Capacity of the Lungs — Results of Experiments made by Dr. Plutchinson — The Trachea or Windpipe — The Bronchial Tubes — Mechanism of Respiration. . . . *34 LECTURE IV. General Description of all the Vocal Organs and their Respective Functions, with Illustrative Drawings — The Discoveries made by means of the Laryngoscope, and its History — Formation of Voice by the Vocal Cords — Results of the Experiments of Garcia, Tiirck, Czermak, Sir G. D. Gibb, and others — Draw- ings of the Vocal Cords when at rest in silent Respiration and when producing Voice — Change of Voice at Puberty — Retention of the Effeminate Voice in Manhood, and proper Mode of Cure — Auxiliary Organs of Voice — Voices of Animals — Quotation from Dr. Carpenter — Brief Summary of the Articulating CONTENTS. xii lecture V. PAGE Respiration and the proper mode of Managing the Breath in Public Reading and Speaking — Dr. Morell Mackenzie — Dr. Shuldham — Mr. Lennox Browne — Mr. Lunn, &c. . . . . . . . . .60 LECTURE VI. Testimony of the late Rev. A. S. Thelwall — Quotation from the Rev. J. Hewlett’s Work on “Reading the Liturgy” — “The Great Secret” of Respiration, and the history of its transmission — Extracts from the recent Works of Mr. Serjeant Cox and Professor Frobisher — Sanitary advantages resulting from the Mode of Respiration here described — Testimony of George Catlin, the North American traveller — Emmanuel Kant and De Quincey — Causes and cure of “ Clerical Sore-Throat” — Dr. Shuldham — Dr. Abbotts — Control of the Breath in Expiration — Opinions of Professor Hullah and Mr. Kingsbury — Summary rules for the management of Respiration in Public Reading, Speaking, and Singing. . . . . . .70 LECTURE VII. Analysis of the elements of the Human Voice — Professor Hullah’s suggestions in regard to the best mode of Developing and Cultivating the Speaking Voice — Different degrees of Aperture of the Mouth and the Shape taken by the Lips for the pure Sound of the different Vowels — Herr Georges’ method of ascer- taining these — Illustration of the positions of the Lips, by Signor Lanza — Classification of Voices — Causes of the different Classes of Voices — Philosophy of Sound and its Phenomena — Chladni’s Experiments — Causes that produce the different degrees of Intensity of Sound, Pitch, Tone, and Timbre — Range of Human Perception in regard to Sound — The Telephone, Phonograph, Micro- phone, Phoneidoscope, and Audiphone — Difference between Sound and Noise — Resemblance and differences between the Music of Speech and the Music of Song. ......... 85 LECTURE VHI. Theory of the Inflections of the Human Voice — Practical illustration — Inflec- tions of the Voice as a means of expression natural to man — Remarks of the Abbe Thibout, Mr. Darwin, Mr. Herbert Spencer, and Mr. Litchfield — The first attempt to reduce the inflection of the Voice to a System of Notation made by Joshua Steele in 1775 “ Prosodia Rationalis,” David Garrick and Steele — The use of the Inflections known to the Greek and Roman Orators — Quotation from Quinctilian — Walker’s views in regard to the two Primary In- flections — Great importance of a knowledge of the chief principles that govern the Inflections in regard to Elocution — G. H. Lewes on Actors and Acting. . 10 1 LECTURE IX. The Rising Inflection of the' Voice — Principles that govern its application in regard to the Logical expression of Clauses and Sentences : (i) Where the meaning is as yet Incomplete ; (2) Where Clauses or Sentences are Negative in Construction; (3) To connect Kindred Thoughts together; (4) Where Clauses or Sentences are Contingent ; (5) Interrogative Sentences that can be answered by a simple Aflirmative or Negative — Priiiciples that govern the Rising Inflection in regard to Emotional Expression ; (i) Where Sentences convey Appeal of any kind ; (2) Where Sentences are in the nature of Suppli- cation or Prayer; (3) Where Sentences express Love, Joy, Hope, &c. ; (4) Where Sentences express Wonder, Amazement, or Surprise; (5) Where Sentences are of an Exclamatory Character. . 120 CONTENTS. xiii LECTURE X. jt-AGE The Falling Inflections of the voice — Logical Principles of their application: (i) Where the meaning of a Clause or Sentence is complete ; Illustrations ; (2) Where it is required to keep Clauses distinct and independent ; Illustrations ; (3) Where an Interrogation cannot be answered by a simple Affirmative or Negative ; Illustrations ; Exceptions ; Illustrations ; Emotional Uses of the Failing Inflections : (i) In Sentences expressing Strong Conviction or Solemn Affirmation ; Illustrations ; (2) In Sentences that express Command or Authority ; Illustrations ; (3) Where Sentences express Hatred, Anger, &c. ; Illustrations — Use of the Staccato ; Illustrations — Climax, how best Rendered ; Illustrations — subdued Inflections or Monotone — Uses of the Monotone — When Passages are characterised by Awe or Solemnity ; Illustrations. . . 146 LECTURE XI. Compound Inflections or Circumflexes — Theory of their Formation — Rising and Falling Circumflexes — Their uses in suggesting Antithesis — Illustrations — Principles of their Application where the Antithesis is expressed — Illustrations — Uses of the Circumflexes in regard to Emotional Expression — Principles that govern their Application — Illustrations — Analysis of the Range of the Inflec- tions in the Musical Scale — Results 173 LECTURE XIL Modulation of the Human Voice — Explanation of the term Modulation, when used in reference to Reading and Speaking — The views of Walker, Sheridan, and Bell — The Rev. G. Sandlands on a mode of developing the Sense of Modulation in Speech — Illustrations of Different Keys in Modulation — General Rules for the Modulation of the Voice. . . . . .189 LECTURE XIII. Imitative Modulation — What is meant by it — Views of Lord Karnes in reference to Imitative Modulation — Illustrations — Time in Reading and Speaking, and its Varieties — Slow, Medium, and Quick Time —General Suggestions — Illustrations for Practice. . . . . . . .212 LECTURE XIV. Elocution considered as a Science — Mr. Thelwall’s Opinions — The Knowledge of Human Nature and the Philosophy of Mind — The Theory of the Poise — Ancient and Modern Authorities on the Poise of the Voice in Reading and Speaking — Steele’s “ Prosodia Rationalis ” — The Laws of Quantity — The Proper Observance of the Poise essential to good Reading and Speaking — Special Function of the Larynx in reference to Poise — Neglect of the Observance of Poise a frequent Source of Stammering and Stuttering — The Laws of Rhythm — Pauses — Rhetorical words — Mr. Herbert Spencer’s Views on Rhythm. ......... 226 LECTURE XV. Emphasis — Definition of the term — Its use and abuse — Illustrations — Varying Degrees of Emphasis — Selections for Practice — The use of the Elements of the Forte and Piano in Elocution, and their varying Degrees — Selections for Practice — The Shir in Elocution — Its uses — Illustrations for Practice — Punctuation, Grammatical and Rhetorical — General Rules for Rhetorical Punctuation — Various requisites in good Delivery — Expression, Attitude, XIV CONTENTS. Gesture — Orators of Antiquity — Plutarch’s Anecdotes of Demosthenes and Cicero — Suggestions in reference to Attitude and Gesture in Public Speaking — Mistakes to be avoided — Quinctilian on Gesture — Mr. Smart’s Classification of Gesture — Erasmus Darwin on the Expression of the Emotions. . *251 LECTURE XVI. The Expression of the Emotions by the Human Countenance — Quinctilian’s remarks on the Head and Face generally — Diagrams of the Muscles of the Face from Sir Charles Bell’s work and Henle’s “ Anatomie des Menschen” — The Forehead — The Eyes — Remarks of Dr. Austin — Buffon’s description of the Eyes and their Power of Expression — Engel’s views on this Subject — Delsarte’s opinions in regard to the Eyes — Letter from Mr. Darwin on the question — The Eyebrows and Eyelids as Adjuncts in Expression — Quinctilian’s Observations — The Nostrils — The Mouth and Lips — Quotation from Buffon and Dr. Austin — The Functions of the Mouth and Lips in the Expression of the Emotions. ......... 285 LECTURE XVH. Erasmus Darwin’s Theory of the Mode in which we become acquainted with the Emotions of others — Opinion of Edmund Burke — Views of the Tragedian, Betterton — Expression of the various Emotions : Joy, Pleasure, Cheerfulness, Love, Affection, Sympathy, Pity, Devotion, Veneration, Gravity, Seriousness, Perplexity, Attention, Surprise, Wonder, Amazement, Admiration, Appeal, Persuasion, Hope, Desire, Tranquillity, Acquiescence, Negation, Raillery, Irony, Anxiety, Dejection, Grief, Misery, Despair, Fear, Terror, Horror, Meditation, Abstraction, Reverie, Vexation, Ill-Temper, Determination, Shame — Views of Dr. Burgh, Sir C. Bell, and Mr. Darwin. . . ' . 295 LECTURE XVHI. The Subject of the Expression of the Emotions continued — Guilt — Remorse — Craft — Slyness — Pride — Courage — Helplessness — Obstinacy — Resignation — Indignation — Anger — Hatred — Rage — Jealousy — Contempt — Disdain — Scorn — Disgust — Conclusion of the Analysis of the Human Emotions. . . 308 LECTURE XIX. Hindrances to Fluency of Speech — Dr. Hunt — Dr. Abbotts — Stammering and Stuttering — Definition of each of these Impediments — Various Causes of Stammering and Stuttering— Other Varieties of Defective Articulation — Means by which all Impediments of Speech may be removed — Special Direc- tions fo! the Self-cure of Stammering and Stuttering, and the Correction of ail Imperfect and Defective Articulation. . . . . ‘SIS SUPPLEMENT TO LECTURE XIX. The Functions of the Vocal and Speech Organs in the formation of all the various letters of the English alpliabet, singly and in combination — Full Tables of Exercises for Practice, as applicable to Stammerers, Stutterers, and ail Persons suffering from any kind of Defective or Imperfect Articulation. . 350 LECTURE XX. public Reading generally — Resume of former directions in regard to Attitude, Management of the Breath, &c., as applicable specially to Reading Aloud — Common mistakes pointed out that should be avoided — Various kinds of CONTENTS. XV Reading — How Poetry should be read — Ordinary faults in reading Poetry — The monotonous and the “ sing-song ” styles — How to be Corrected — Reading of the Bible — How it ought to be read — Reading the Church Services and Prayers — Prose Readings generally — Dramatic Reading — Use of Referential Gesture. 347 LECTURE XXL Public Speaking — Principal requisites of Extempore Speaking — The Art of Composition — Arrangement of Thoughts and Language — Process of Analysis — Attention and Association — Dangers of delivering written Speeches memoriter — Suggestions in reference to the art of Extempore Speaking — The Exordium, or introduction of a Speech — The principal Subject-matter of a Speech — Varieties of mode of treatment — Purity of language — Perspicuity — The Perora- tion, or conclusion of a speech — The time when to close a Speech, and how best to end it. . . . . . . . . . 357 , LECTURE XXII. The Subject of Public Speaking and Reading considered in detail, and in reference especially to the various Professions where it is more particularly required — The Clergyman — The Church Services — The Art of Preaching — Construction of a Sermon — Thoughts — Sources of Information — Four principal modes of Sermon Construction — The Narrative — The Textual — The Logical — The Divisional — The Delivery of a Sermon — Delivery as Important in its Immediate Effects as Composition — Styles of Preaching in other Countries — Suggestions in reference to the Delivery of Sermons — Proper use of Gesture in the Pulpit. ......... 363 LECTURE XXIII. Public Speaking as regards the professional duties of the Barrister or Advocate — Addressing Juries — Common Juries and Special Juries — Addressing the Court — Arguing vi Banco — Suggestions in reference to the Preparation of Legal Arguments — The Senate — Speaking in Parliament — Business Speeches — Orations — Mr. Gladstone’s Opinions on the Training best adapted to form good Speakers — Opening Speech on a Motion of Importance — The Debate — The Reply — Speeches at Elections — Open-air Speaking generally — Injurious Effects often felt by Untrained Speakers — How to Speak in the Open-air ' audibly, distinctly, and with comparative personal ease and comfort. . . 402 LECTURE XXIV. The Vocation of Lecturing — Various Classifications — Educational Lectures generally — Professional, Technical, Literary, and Scientific Lectures — Sugges- tions to Lecturers — Hints on “Social Speech-making” — Public Festival and Dinner Speeches — Duties of Chairman at Public Dinners — Proposing Toasts — . Loyal and Patriotic Toasts — “ The Toast of the Evening ” — Returning Thanks — Suggestions in Conclusion. . . . . . . .411 APPENDIX L Remarks on Orthoepy, and the rules laid done by various writers on Pronun- ciation ; — I. The tendency of compound words to shorten the Vowel which is long in the primitives. 2. The shortening tendency of the Antepenultimate Accent. 3. The shortening tendency of the Secondary Accent. 4. The shortening tendency of the past tense. 5. The power of w over the subsequent vowel. 6. The aspirated hissing of d, s, z, x, and soft c. 7. Faulty pro- nunciation of accented vowels. 8. Pronunciation of unaccented syllables. 9. ’ b XVI CONTENTS. PAGE Allowable fluctuation in the sound of some unaccented vowels and diphthongs, lo. Faulty pronunciation of unaccented vowels. ii. Suppression of un- accented vowels where they should be sounded ; and the opposite error — The termination ed in the past tense and participle. I2. The termination el, 13. The termination en. 14. The termination il, in. 15. The termination on. 16. Suppressing the vowel-sound in the termination tion and sion. 17. Sup- pressing t when between two s's, &c. 18. Suppressing h where it ought to be sounded, and vice versa. 19. Suppressing h before w\ also in shr', and in the termination iJi. 20. Sounding r too strongly or too feebly. 21. Sup- pressing the sound of final consonants. 22. The terminational no — Guidance in pronunciation — Alphabetical list of words occurring in the Sacred Scriptures and the Liturgy to be pronounced according to the authority of Walker and others. ... ...... 420 ALPHABETICAL LIST, A List of Words, occurring in the Scriptures, to be pronounced according to the Authority of Walker and later Writers. ..... 434 APPENDIX II. l.ord Brougham’s letter of advice — Lord Stanley’s speech at University College — Lord Stanhope’s speech at Aberdeen — “The Bishop’s, the Clergy, and the People” — Eraser’s Ala^azine—Conlemporavy orators — “A Few Words about Sermons” — Cornhill Magazine — “On Clergyman’s Sore-Throat” — Voices — Pulpit Oratory — Musical Society of London — A Movable Model of the Larnyx — The Phonograph and the Microphone — The Telephone — The Edison Tele- phone — The Edison Telephone in London — The Origin of Language — Future of the English Stage — A French actor’s view of the English Stage and English Elocution ....... . 440 . 480 Notes LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. FIG. PAGE PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. .... frontispiece 1. THORAX. ......... 37 2 . LUNGS AND HEART. . ....... 39 3. EXTERNAL VIEW OF LARYNX, TRACHEA, AND THYROID GLAND. • . 45 4. LATERAL VIEW OF LARYNX. . . . . . .46 5. INTERNAL VIEW OF LARYNX. . . . ' . . *47 6. VOCAL CORDS IN A STATE OF REPOSE AND SILENCE. . . -49 7. VOCAL CORDS IN THE ACT OF PRODUCING VOICE. . . *50 8. VOCAL CORDS IN THE ACT OF PRODUCING THE FAl.SETTO. , . 52 9. MEDIAN SECTION OF THE HEAD. . . . . . *54 10. ) ILLUSTRATIONS OF MODES OF RESPIRATION IN MALE AND FEMALE . 62 11. j FIGURES. . . . . . . . .62 12 . AIR-PASSAGES OF NOSTRILS. . . . . . -75 13. HERR GEORGES’ VOCAL WEDGE. . . . . . • ^7 14. SIGNOR Lanza’s illustrations of the position of the lips in SINGING THE SOLFEGGIO. . . . . . .88 15. JOSHUA STEELE’S SYSTEM OF NOTING THE MUSIC OF SPEECH. . 1 12 DR, rush’s system OF NOTATION OF SAME. • . . . I16 THE ABB:6 THIBOUT’s system of NOTATION OF SAME. . . *117 16. GRAVE-ACUTE INFLECTION. . . . . . . -173 17. ACUTO-GRAVE INFLECTION. . . . . . . .174 18. DIAGRAM OF THE MUSCLES OF THE FACE, FROM SIR C. BELL. . . 286 19. DIAGRAM FROM HENLE. ....... 286 20. DIAGRAM FROM HENLE. ....... 286 21. RIGHT ATTITUDE IN PUBLIC READING. ..... 349 22 . WRONG ATTITUDE IN PUBLIC READING. ..... 349 LECTURE I. Introduction — What is Elocution ? — Definition — Reasons for the Cultivation of Elocution — Answers to Objections — The Rev. E. Kirk — Extract from the Rev. J. B. Mayor’s “ Ethics of Ritual” — The Advantages to be gained from a knowledge of the Principles of Elocution in regard to the various Professions, the Clergyman, the Barrister, &c. — Claims of Elocution to rank as one of the Fine Arts — Professor}. Hullah — Importance of the subject of Elocution generally — Authorities cited : John Stuart Mill, Dr. Guthrie, Mr. C. Palmer, Dr. Channing, Joshua Steele’s “ Prosodia Rationalis,” Sir Arthur Helps, Rev. F. Trench, Lord G. Hamilton, Archbishop of York, Professor Seeley, Professor F. W. Newman — Power, richness, and euphony of the English language— Sanitary Advantages of Elocution — Quotation from Sir Henry Holland’s “ Medical Notes ” — Dr. George Beard — Summary. HAVE invited you here this evening, in pursuance of the course I have adopted ever since I have had the honour of holding my present appointment in this College, to listen to some introductory remarks in reference to the special work intrusted to my charge in this department, and which I have ventured to term “ A Lecture on Elocution, considered in reference to Public and Social Life.” The great German philosopher, Wilhelm von Humboldt, who has been so justly termed the father of Comparative Philology, in discuss- ing the subject of language generally, says : “ We must exclude from the definition of language everything but actual speaking. .... The essence of language lies in the living utterance — in that which does not suffer itself to be apprehended in the sundered elements of written words. . . . It is only by the spoke7i word that the speaker breathes, as it were, his own life into the souls of his hearers. . . . Writteii language is only an imperfect and murnmy-like embalming, of which the highest use is that it may serve as a means of reproducing the living utterance.” And more recently the late Rev. Canon Kingsley, in one of his delightful essays, begins it with the remark that : “ To the minute philosopher few things seem more miraculous than human speech.” 2 KlNG^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. r. Let the assertions, then, of the philosopher and the divine serve as the text for the discourse which I propose offering you this evening, on the importance of cultivating, to the utmost of our ability, those facul- ties of the mind and those organs of the body which, in their just com- bination of action and in their highest order of development, constitute the accomplished speaker or reader, or, in other words, the science and art of Elocution. Let me endeavour to show you why Elocution should form a part of our education — not only as regards the effects to be pro- duced on others, when we read or speak, but as regards its reflex advan- tages on ourselves, not merely mentally, but physically. Let me support my various assertions, and the propositions I hope to establish to your satisfaction, by the testimony of authorities of the highest order, and against whom no possible suspicion can exist of having any personal interest to serve. Let me try, at least, fairly to examine and answer some of the principal objections which have, from time to time, been brought against the study of Elocution by persons who, I think, have not maturely considered what true Elocution really is, and have con- founded two things we are but too apt to confuse in our progress through life — viz., abuse with use. This, then, is the outline of the course I propose taking this evening ; and to which, without further preface, I now solicit your kind attention. It is well, in all discussions, that we should start, if possible, with clear definitions of our subjects, and that our terms should be accur- ately defined. My subject then, to-night, is Elocution, and the two aspects under which I propose to regard it are — (i) In reference to Public, and (2) In regard to Social Life. Let me take these, then, in their due order. What do I mean by Elocution ? Suppose I answer this question first of all in a somewhat negative fashion, and tell you what I do not mean whenever I have occa- sion to make use of this much-abused word — Elocution. I do not mean, then, anything pompous, stilted, bombastic, or ^^stageyU I do not mean anything pedantic, stiff, formal, or unnatural. If Elocution either meant, or, properly understood and rightly taught, tended to anything of the kind, I should be the very last to say one word on its behalf, either here or elsewhere. So much, then, for the negative portion of my answer ; and now let me try to give you the affirmative. If you ask me to define what it is I do mean by Elocution, I think I should reply somewhat in the follow- ing manner ; — I should say, first of all, it is the perfectly audible, distinct, pure, and effective pronunciation which is given to words when they are arranged into sentences, and form written or extemporaneous composi- tion, either in the shape of prose or poetry. Besides this purity of intonation and clearness of articulation, I include under the term all those appropriate inflections and modulations of the speaking voice ; the due observance of the great physiological law of poise; the notation of another element, scarcely less important, that of quantity ; proper pauses, and right discrimination in degrees of emphasis, all of which are requisite in order to render delivery most effective in its results, not only as regards the judgment and intellect, but the feelings and emotions of Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION, 3 those whom we address. Nor does my definition stop here ; for I include, moreover, when suitable to the occasion, all the ever-varying accompaniments of the human countenance and figure — the manifold play of feature, attitude, and gesture. And I do so, because Nature has a language unspoken as well as spoken, and the flash of indignation from the eye, the frown of anger on the brow, the lip smiling with pleasure, or curled in scorn and contempt — nay, the simple raising of a hand in appeal or in deprecation will often convey the particular passion or emotion of the moment as eloquently as any words can do, however aptly chosen. Thus, then, you will see that under my definition of Elocution, I mean a delivery which not only expresses fully the gram- matical or logical sense of all the words employed, so as to be thoroughly heard, understood, and felt by the hearer, but, at the same time, gives the whole sentence which such words compose all the power, beauty, grace, and melody of which its form of construction is capable. And last, though not least, in the elements of my definition is the knowledge of the means by which all this may be done with personal ease, freedojn, and self-possession on the part of the speaker or reader, when he is made acquainted with the physiology and proper use of the respiratory, vocal, and speech organs in their due co-ordination of action. This, then, is my ideal of Elocution ; a high one, I confess. But it is well, in all that is deserving of study, whether in the world of art, science, or ethics, to keep a high ideal before us ; to which let us strive our utmost to approximate, even though that ideal we may never hope actually to attain. That Elocution, then, is an art which requires much study to develop it in all its full power and beauty, even when Nature has been liberal in bestowing a fine and flexible voice and quickness of appreciation in matters of taste and sympathy of feeling, will, I think, be conceded without much hesitation. This being conceded, we come now to the all-important question — Are we sufficiently rewarded for all the time, thought, and study we may give to the acquisition of this art ? Are we sufficiently requited for all the pains we may bestow in becom- ing thoroughly acquainted with its theory, and then carrying out and developing that theory in practice ? I think we are, both in regard to public and social life. Let me glance, first, at those spheres of life which we may term public, and under which head I would take, as illustrations, the minister of religion generally, without reference to any particular church or creed ; the advocate in our Courts of law; and the speakers in our Houses of Parliament and at public meetings. All these so far resemble each other in their vocation that their aim is, when engaged in their professional or public duties, to convince the judgment of their hearers of the truth or soundness of the views which the speaker is enforcing, or else to persuade them to a certain course of conduct or action. The minister of religion, moreover, has, by the mode in which his more specially sacred functions are performed, to endeavour to excite, to the fullest degree, the devotional feelings of his congregation. And through what channel are all these desired ends and aims to be attained ? Through woi'ds spoken by the living human voice, with all its marvellous sympathetic powers of intonation, inflection, and modulation. 4 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. 1. enforced as far as possible by the expression of the countenance and gesture. Let me venture to quote a few passages — not from any professional writer on, or teacher of, Elocution (for that, as I said at first, I shall avoid doing as much as possible), but from an article lately published by an eminent American divine (the Rev. E. Kirk, of Boston), “On the Preparation required for the Public Duties of the Ministry,” which is net less applicable to the subject, I think, in England than in America : — “ It is easy to recognise the difference between a speaker who is agreeable and one who is disagreeable ; between one who is powerful and another who is feeble. Nor can any one entertain a doubt whether the difference is not just as obvious in the pulpit as in the senate, forum, or on the public platform. Every preacher, I should think, would desire so to deliver his sermon as that his meaning should be clearly perceived, and his sentiments deeply felt, rather than to utter it in a manner unin- telligible and unimpressive. Every congregation of worshippers would prefer in their pastor a good delivery to an awkward and disagreeable style of speaking. Let two men of equal piety and scholarship be pre- sented to any of our religious societies, the one a man of easy, becom- ing carriage in the pulpit, of apparently simple, natural, and powerful utterance ; the other uncouth in attitude and movement, indistinct and stammering in his enunciation, and wearisome in his drawling tones. Can any man in his senses doubt which of the two would be chosen ? No ! Thus far the case is plain. But if we go back from this, and observe this finished speaker practising in the detail of his studies and vocal exercises, there we shall find some demurring. Many who admire the orator are averse to the process of discipline which gave him the better style. There is, in other words, a prejudice in the community, and among many excellent candidates for the ministry, in regard to Elo- cution as an art to be obtained by study and practice. This prejudice is worthy of a candid examination and an earnest effort to remove it. In the minds of some, the study and practice of Elocution is con- nected, if not identified, with the idea of substituting sound and emotion for sense and truth. To such persons it may be suggested that there is no necessity for this substitution. The importance of Elocution pre- supposes the importance of other things ; and for men who are morally and intellectually qualified to act as preachers, the importance of effective delivery and manner can scarcely be overrated. To overlook it is a proof neither of piety, dignity, nor wisdom. If there were some ethereal way of communicating with the mind, if the process of preaching were designed to be mesmeric, and people were to be put to sleep, instead of being aroused, in order to instruct and impress them, we might dispense with Elocution and the culture it requires. But so long as men are in the body, it will be found requisite for the most effective exercise of the ministry that a part of clerical education consists in the study and prac- tice of Elocution. That necessity is founded on these two facts — that the communication of thought and feeling depends upon the right exercise of our bodily organs ; and that those organs are within the domain of that great law which requires the cultivation of the faculties. Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION 5 It is not sufficient for the purposes of electrical power that the battery be fully charged : a good conductor must be added. Alas ! how much of the preaching to which we have to listen is of the class of non-coii- ductors ! In the minds of others, again, Elocution is identified with an ostentatious exhibition of the graces and the accomplishments of the speaker. But this is confounding the use with the abuse of a good thing. Since it is a man who is to be heard and seen, and since there is but one right way of speaking or reading aloud, while there are a thottsand w7'ong ways, the man will do well to learn the right way. And if the agreeable impression produced by an agreeable voice, manner, and person can conduce to the right impression of truth, the very purity of his desire to do good should induce him to cultivate voice, manner, and person. There is nothing in the study of Elocution, rightly understood and practised, that need awaken personal vanity. Nor is there any more inducement for an eloquent man to display all the means by which he acquired the power of commanding the .sympa- thies and interest of his audience, than there is for a learned man to parade all his learning, or to become a mere pedant. Others fear that they shall be tempted to turn their chief attention in the pulpit to tones and gestures, and thus degrade their high vocation. This, again, is no necessary consequence, and would be simply a perversion of the art. The greatest orator, in an extemporaneous address, pays strict attention to the minutest rules of grammar, but there is no interruption in all this to the concentrated action of his understanding ; no extinction to the fiery current of his feeling. The rules of Elocution are designed to form the man, to correct the bad habits of attitude, speech, and gesture, and to make the voice, countenance, and body in every way fit instruments for a mind full of noble thoughts and powerful emotions.” There is one objection more to which I turn, and which I hope to answer, and then I proceed to a different part of my subject. You may have heard well-meaning persons, but who cannot, I think, have maturely considered the matter, object to the resources of the art of Elo- cution (which, after all, means only the aggregate of all that constitutes a good delivery) being introduced into the reading-desk and pulpit, and say that it savours of irreverence to privately rehearse, over and over again, public prayers addressed to the Deity, or to read the lessons from the Bible, with all the rules of Elocution so fully carried out, that the standard which has been set up for the right performance of their various ministerial functions shall be satisfied ; and that to study the most effec- tive manner in which a sermon can be delivered, as a great tragedian would study the part he has to perform, is to reduce the high calling of the preacher to an unworthy level. Now, in answer to this, let me, in the first place, ask — How is the singing of hymns and anthems managed in our cathedrals, churches, and chapels ? Is their conducting left to persons wholly unskilled in the art of vocal music ? Do not organists and choristers meet and practise, and rehearse, over and over again, the anthems, psalms, and hymns they have to sing, until all is thought of sufficient excellence to be played and sung in public worship ? Why ? I presume for one reason, to warm and excite, as much as possible, the 6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. devotional feelings of the congregation. Now, then, I ask, are psalms, hymns, and anthems less direct appeals to God than the prayers in our Liturgy ; and do not all claim to be parts of divine service ? I answer. What is not thought to be waste of time nor irreverence in the one case, is equally neither waste of time nor irreverence in the other. In the “Contemporary Review,” for the month of October 1872, in a very scholarly article, entitled “ The Ethics of Ritual,” by the Rev. J. B. Mayor, you will find this passage, which I think very applicable to my subject : — “The readings from the Bible, when we pass beyond those narrative passages, which can never be wholly without interest, even for the least awakened mind, call for much thought and much knowledge to under- stand their general drift. ... If we have fallen into the habit (so much fostered by our sermons) of looking upon each text merely as a peg on which to hang a meditation, without reference to the context, or the readers to whom it was primarily addressed, ‘ the Word’ will be no light to our eyes or guide to our feet ; we shall simply see our own fancies reflected everywhere. There is no learning — no advance. Much may be done by an intelligent reader to enforce the meaning of what he reads by variation of tone, and pause, and emphasis. Such semi-dramatic reading seems to us to be almost essential, if the minds of the unedu- cated are to be reached ; and for their sakes, at any rate, we much regret the prevalent use of the monotone in reading the lessons in ritualistic churches.” To read the Liturgy and to preach a sermon well is an art that requires just as much to be studied and practised, as the singing of hymns and anthems is an art that requires proper training and cultiva- tion. If we are to have public worship at all, I say every part of it should be made as excellent as possible, and no part of it be in any way neglected. And now I glance very briefly — for my time is limited, and I have other topics on which I desire to touch before I finish my remarks — at the professions of the advocate, the lecturer, and public speakers gene- rally. I am perfectly well aware that anything like grandiloquence, declamation, poetical flights, and rhetorical appeals are quite alien to our present national character. Modern taste and general tone of thought and feeling in our English courts of justice are utterly opposed to all useless declamatory froth and mere rhetorical display. And certainly it is only comparatively rarely that the circumstances of a case afford any just ground for what would be termed the higher flights of eloquence, and in the present day perspicuity of language and earnestness of manner are, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the chief requisites of an advocate, as well as of public speakers generally. Still, the barris- ter is not always arguing dry, abstruse, and intricate points of law before courts of equity, or judges sitting in Ba 7 ico; and in one branch of it, at least, he will have to address juries drawn from many grades of society in the metropolis, as well as at assizes and sessions, with whom, I am disposed to think, a powerful delivery and earnest manner have, to say the least, a very strong influence. Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 1 Well, what advantages will the advocate, lecturer, or public speaker derive from a knowledge of Elocution ? I can answer these, at any rate. He will learn the mode in which the speaking voice is formed, so as to fill easily the whole area of the court or hall in which his duties have to be performed ; he will learn the secret of combining distinctness with audibility, so that nothing shall be lost of what he has to say to his hearers ; and he will acquire the means of delivering the most important words and passages in the most effective manner. He will obtain, too, such a mastery and power of discipline over his voice as to be able to control it, from the loudest tone down to little more than a mere whis- per, and be able to properly inflect and modulate it, according to the results he wishes to produce upon his hearers. These are, I think, no small advantages as regards others ; but are there any more selfish bene- fits which a knowledge of Elocution will confer upon the public speaker or reader himself? There are, most undoubtedly. It cannot be too strongly insisted upon that there is a wrongs as well as a rights way of using the vocal and speech organs in all public speaking and reading. If there is a way of diminishing the exhaustion and lessening the sense of fatigue after speaking or reading in public ; if there is a way of preventing altogether some of the much complained of disastrous physical effects of public speaking and reading, surely a wise and prudent man will not think the matter beneath his notice. By the disastrous effects, I mean the malady commonly known as “clerical sore throat,” and kindred diseases, which result from a disarrangement of the functions of the throat and chest. It cannot be too strongly urged that there is a mode of employing the vocal organs in the larynx which most needlessly and seriously inflames the membrane that lines the throat, and the delicate structure of the bronchial tubes ; and uselessly wastes the general nervous energy of the system. All this could be entirely avoided by learning to use the various organs of voice and speech in their right sequence of action, so that proper respiration, vocal utterance, and the law of poise be all duly and harmoniously carried on. Then an hour’s speaking or reading aloud will be, not a fatigue for the body, but merely a healthy and beneficial exercise. Is this any exaggeration ? I have the testi- mony afforded by the experience of many public speakers and preachers, who, by proper exercises, have entirely recovered the use of the vocal powers they had lost, and have acquired the power of speaking or preaching with an ease to which they were previously entire strangers. Let me content myself with only one, a clergyman (the Rev. Ch. Butcher), who kindly permits me to quote his words, and who says : “ I assure you, I formerly felt more fatigued after reading the Litany in a small country church than I do now after taking three full services in the large church of St. Clement Danes, Strand, in every part of which I am told that I am distinctly heard.” * There can be no doubt (to use the * The same clergyman, now the Dean of the cathedral at Shanghai, China, in a letter I have received from him dated from the Chaplaincy, Shanghai, August i8th, 1873, says : “ I am sure Elocution is the healthiest thing in the world. I have an immense church, and three services a day — and this with the thermometer at 90° for three months of the year — and yet I am never ill, or sensible of fatigue. ” 8 KING\S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. words of Professor M‘Ilvaine, of New York) that those wasting throat diseases, with which clergymen are afflicted more than any other class of public speakers, are traceable physiologically to bad management of the voice, to the violation of those laws which nature has prescribed — laws which, like all others established by the God of nature, can never be violated with impunity. This view is confirmed by the fact, to which many can bear witness, that no more effectual remedy for those diseases has been discovered than a course of sound Elocutionary training. Now, then, I come to another division of my subject. I have to regard Elocution, as I have defined it, in its relationship to social life. I contend that, when properly understood and practised, it is worthy of taking rank as one of the fine arts. Rather a bold proposition, it may be said. Well, let me ask, what are the fine arts? You will answer, doubtless, music, vocal and instrumental, the dramatic art, painting, drawing, sculpture, architecture in its highest forms, &c. Yes, but why do you call these arts fine arts ? I suppose you will answer somewhat after this manner : “ We call them fine arts, because they are all of them arts that give beauty and grace to civilised life ; or they are arts which combine, in a high degree, the gratification of pure and refined taste, with the exercise of an enlightened intellect and an exalted imagination.” If this is a true definition of the fine arts (and none, I fancy, will ques- tion it), then I think that Elocution as shown, not in the elaborate and impassioned speech of the great statesman, advocate, or divine, but in a much humbler and more ordinary form, may be ranked in the same category. Let me take the instance of some simple, though beautiful poem, read aloud in the family or social circle; and then, if it has been rendered with purity of intonation, and all those proper inflections and modulations of the voice, together with due discrimination in emphasis, and all the other elements requisite to convey the true meaning and expression, let me ask whether it is not one of those arts which impart a charm to social intercourse, and lend a grace to ordinary life — in a word, whether it is not one of the fine arts ? When all the requisites that form a really good reader are taken into consideration, I think we may well wonder, not so much that the accomplishment is far too generally neglected, but that it does not form, with all who look upon education in its true light and meaning, the drawing out of all our best faculties, an important means in early — nay, in all stages of life, as well as in all classes of society, for refining and elevating the mind, for cultivating the sympathies, and for quickening and developing those habits of perception and appreciation of the beautiful in all arts, which, when once acquired, generally endure throughout life, and are so precious in themselves, and so valuable to us and our fellow-creatures. One of the greatest thinkers of our age, whose loss is felt to be more than a national calamity — for it is a loss, indeed, to the philosophy of the civilised world, I mean John Stuart Mill — thus, in his autobiography just published, speaks of Elocution ; — “In going through Plato and Demosthenes, since I could now read these authors, as far as the language was concerned, with perfect ease, I Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 9 was not required to construe them sentence by sentence, but to read them aloud to my father, answering questions when asked ; but the particular attention which he paid to Elocution (in which his own excel- lence was remarkable) made this reading aloud to him a most painful task. Of all things which he required me to do, there was none which I did so constantly ill, or in which he so perpetually lost his temper with me. He had thought much on the principles of the art of reading, especially the most neglected parts of it, the inflections and modulations of the voice, as writers on Elocution call them (in contrast with articula- tion on the one side, and expression on the other), and had reduced it to rules, grounded on the logical analysis of a sentence. These rules he strongly impressed upon me, and took me severely to task for every violation of them ; but I even then remarked (though I did not venture to make the remark to him) that, though he reproached me when I read a sentence ill, he never, by reading it himself, showed me how it ought to be read. A defect running through his otherwise admirable modes of instruction, as it did through all his modes of thought, was that of trusting too much to the intelligibleness of the abstract, when not embodied in the concrete. It was at a much later period of my youth, when practising Elocution by myself, or with companions of my own age, that I, for the first time, understood the object of his rules, and saw the psychological ground of them. At that time, I and others followed out the subject into its ramifications, and could have composed a very useful treatise, grounded on my father’s principles. He himself left those principles and rules unwritten. I regret that when my mind was full of the subject, from systematic practice, I did not put them, and our improvements of them, into a formal shape.” * So also the excellent and eloquent Scotch divine, who has so lately passed away from us, Dr. Guthrie, in his autobiography just published, thus expresses his opinion of the importance of the art of Elocution, and the importance he/ attached to its acquisition : — “ I had, when a student in divinity, paid more than ordinary attention to the art of Elocution, knowing how much of the effect produced on the audience depended on the 7?ianner as well as the mailer ; that, in point of fact, the manner is to the matter as the powder is to the ball. I had attended Elocution classes winter after winter, walking across half the city and more, after eight o’clock at night, fair night and foul, and not getting back to my lodgings till about half-past ten. There I learned to find out and correct many acquired and more or less awkward defects in gesture — to be, in fact, natural ; to acquire a command over my voice so as to suit its force and emphasis to the sense, and to modulate it so as to express the feelings, whether of surprise or grief, indignation or pity. I had heard very indifferent discourses made forcible by a vigorous, and able ones reduced to feebleness by a poor, pithless delivery. I had read of the extraordinary pains Demosthenes and Cicero took to cultivate their manner and become masters of the arts of Elocution ; and I knew how, by a masterly and natural use of these, Whitfield could sway the crowds that gathered to hear him at early morn on the commons of * Autobiography of John Stuart Mill, pp. 23, 24. ro KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. London as a breeze does the standing corn, making men at his pleasure weep or laugh by the way he pronounced ‘ Mesopotamia.’ Many have supposed that I owe any power I have of modulating my voice, and giving effect thereby to what I am delivering, to a musical ear. On the contrary, I am, as they say in Scotland, ‘ timmer tuned ’ — have not the vestige even of the musical faculty, never knowing when people go off the tune but when they stick ! ” Again, in a rare and curious old 4to volume in my possession, entitled “ Aphorisms and Maxims,” by Charles Palmer, Deputy-Sergeant to the House of Commons (1758), I find it stated at p. 15, that “delivery is the very life and soul of all eloquence; and it is of such peculiar importance, that none can neglect it without abandoning its greatest strength and beauty, and that which contributes so largely to its force, and composes most of the graces that belong to it. The art of oratory is never so great and potent by the things that are said, as by the manner of saying them ; its leading excellence consists in the delivery, and by this it maintains its empire over the hearts of men.” You will grant, I imagine, that the dramatic art, in its highest forms and embodiments, is one of the fine arts. If it is so, let me strengthen my position by the support given to my argument by that well-known American divine. Dr. Channing. In discussing the drama and dramatic amusements generally, he asks “ whether there is not a source of the highest intellectual pleasure, having the closest possible approximation to the drama, viz., recitation or reading aloud? To hear a work of genius (he says) recited or read by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm, and powers of Elocution, is a very high and pure gratification. Were this art only more cultivated and encouraged amongst us, great numbers of persons, now insensible to the most beautiful compositions, might be awakened to their full excellence and power. It is not easy to conceive a more effectual way of spreading a refined taste through a community. Should this only be established among us successfully, the result would be that the power of recitation would be more extensively called forth, and this would be a most valuable addition to our social and domestic pleasures.” I might quote many other authorities, English as well as American, but on this point I will content myself with but one more, a name of high and well-deserved reputation. Professor John Hullah, of this College. Mr. Hullah has recently published a most able little work “On the Cultivation of the Speaking Voice,” which I would strongly recommend to any one who wishes to see how closely allied to the music of speech is the music of song. Indeed, it would be difficult to draw the exact line of demarcation — if, indeed, there is one at all — between the music of Elocution, as shown in the pure vocal tone, the widely ranging and proper inflections and modulations of the voice in the recitation of some grand or beautiful poem, and the music of song, as shown in the powerful and expressive recitative of a Santley or Sims Reeves in an oratorio by Handel or Haydn. It would be almost impossible, I think, to say where the music of the one art ends and that of the other begins. All the terms that are used in music are, in general, I,ECT. I.] ON ELOCUTION II applicable to Elocution. Piano and forte^ with their various degrees ; cresceiido and diviiniicfido^ legaio, sostenuto, and staccato ; time, andante and allegro^ and their modifications ; the marks of emphasis, expression, and a piacere or ad libitum — all these are terms of art which may be applied as fitly to Elocution as to song. But can we go beyond this ? Can the music of speech be noted, its inflections in the range which the voice takes rising or falling in the musical scale be duly marked, the duration of the vowel in the syllables of words or in monosyllabic words rightly indicated ; can all this be done by external signs or technical marks of indication? It can. But to go further than this, can the music of speech, as shown in Elocution, be divided into bars — regular and systematic bars — upon fixed and definite principles, as in the music of song? It can, and here is the proof. There lies before me on this table a book more than a century old, of which I apprehend the majority in this room have never seen the name or heard of the author. It is entitled “ Prosodia Rationalis,” and the author is Joshua Steele. It is an old book, a rare book, and a very learned book. As I open it and show these pages to you, I imagine that any one on bestowing a mere cursory glance at them would think I was showing him the score of some song composed a hundred years ago. It is, indeed, a grand and solemn theme to which these notes are set ; and how I wish I could but hear them once more rendered by the great artist, whose recital of them thrilled all hearts at our great National Theatre in 1772 ; for this is Hamlet’s famous soliloquy on death and immortality, as rendered (with some slight variations suggested by the author of the work) by that greatest of actors of the last century, David Garrick. Here you have all the technical signs which indicate quantity, inflections, and modulation ; the poise which marks the bars, &c.; the very interpretation of the great tragedian, noted from actual observation by Mr. Steele, handed down to us, and rendered capable of being perpetuated for the instruction of future generations. Time warns me that I must not dwell further on this portion of my argument. To those who wish to make fuller investi- gation into the subject, I would name particularly, in addition to the authors to whom I have already referred, the great American work written, “ On the Voice,” by the celebrated physician, Er. Rush ; the Abbe Thibout’s work, entitled “ Action Oratoire ; ” and the treatise by the late John Thelwall “On English Rhythmus,” based avowedly on Joshua Steele’s system, as developed in his “ Prosodia Rationalis.” But now in this place arises the question — Is there need for any such instruction in Elocution ? Do we really want it at the present time ? Let me, as an answer, give you a passage which you will find in a charming volume of short essays published in 1875, by that original thinker and accomplished writer the late Sir Arthur Helps, under the title of “ Brevia ” : — “ How few men can talk distinctly and clearly ! With how many persons, especially the young of this generation, is their talk a something which combines a lisp, a mutter, a mumble, and a moan ! How many times in the course of a conversation amongst English people do you not hear the question, ‘ What did you say ? ’ Then, as to the reading — 12 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. I put it to this intelligent company. Do you know amongst your numerous friends and acquaintances ten persons who can read aloud really well I You are silent. Then, as to public speaking — how few have attained to any proficiency in this art, which, however, is not a very difficult art. It is a thousand pities there are not more proficients in this art ; for if there were, it would not have so exorbitant a value put upon it, and men who are proficient in it would not occupy so great a position in the State as they do now. The man who can do a thing well is, unfortunately, often now the last man who can speak about it in public well, or even talk about it well.” — Brevia^ p. 145. Sir Arthur Helps laments in these strong terms the prevalence of inaudible, indistinct, and expressionless reading and speaking. But can we wonder at it when, as a part of our regular education, it is so wholly neglected. I am aware that during the last ten years the Elocution of the English language has been much more made a subject of study and practice at private schools of repute, for both sexes, than was formerly the case. But still, at the present moment, there is no regular professor- ship founded or endowed for giving instruction in the art at either of our great universities ; and (as far as 1 can speak from my own experience) the only public educational institutions, where lectures or courses of instruction have been given in the art of reading and speaking our native tongue properly and effectively, are this College, University College, Wellington College, the City of London College, the Royal Naval School, the Polytechnic, the Birkbeck, and the Quebec Institutions. As far as I know, there is nothing of the kind at the present moment at Eton, at Harrow, at Rugby, at Winchester, at Westminster, St. Paul’s, the Charterhouse, or Christ’s Hospital. If I am wrong in this statement, most gladly shall I receive the information that I am mistaken. Now, then, what are the results of this neglect ? I put the question, but, as before, I would prefer that the answer should be given by another rather than myself. Let it come, then, from the Rev. Francis Trench, who, in a lecture delivered by him in London some time ago on “ Good and Bad Reading in Church, School, and Home,” says : — “ I must confess I can recall nothing worse than ordinary school read- ing and recitation (mark, I say ordinary^ because I am well aware that there are some exceptions), whether in the institutions for the rich or for the poor in our land. Many amongst us can remember very well the method in which we ourselves said our scholastic lessons in our former days. Whether any improvement in this method has of late taken place, I am unable to say. I trust that it may be so ; but at the public school where I myself was, and one, too, not inferior in repute to any in the land — I mean Harrow — the utmost attainable speed in recitation was allowed, a false key and monotonous delivery of the worst kind was never corrected or rebuked, no attempt whatever was made to render or to keep the utterance in harmony with the sense ; and bad habits of delivery were formed and allowed, in a manner almost too strange for belief, and on which I can only now look back with exceeding surprise. Nor do I conceive that the system was in the least better at other schools. I cannot let them escape. For should the Etonian, the Lect. L] ON ELOCUTION. 13 Winchester, Rugby, or Westminster man, or the representative of any other public school, ask me what grounds I have for such a statement, my answer to the challenge would be, that at college I had full means and opportunity to judge from the reading of the students there. They were gathered from all schools of distinction ; and to any one hearing them, it was evident enough that the general delivery at other schools was by no means superior to that which was allowed and which prevailed at my own. A system, this, not only most objectionable and most injurious at the time, even to a just impression of the sense of the passage read, but also so lasting in its evil consequences, that many never are emancipated or escape from them. I say this advisedly ; and even those who do escape, often only escape after many years, and with no little difficulty. Hence, I believe, originates much of the bad reading which w'e hear in public worship. Hence, I believe, originates that monotonous cadence and drawl, which is so adverse to the due expression by the reader, and to the due comprehension by the hearer, of any passage read. The ear may be lulled, but the mind is not reached ; at least, if reached, it is reached in spite of the reader’s bad tone and enunciation. And here I quote the words of one who felt this evil very deeply, and laboured very constantly for its removal, or, at least, its mitigation — the Rev. C. Simeon. ‘ How often,’ said he, ‘ are the prayers of the Church spoiled, and good sermons rendered uninteresting by bad delivery on the part of ministers ! ’ ” Mr. Trench then proceeds to show in detail how the same lamentable neglect of the art of reading aloud prevails equally in private schools, from the highest to the lowest class, and calls attention to the fact that even at the time when he was speaking, so glaring was the evil in our national schools, that a circular letter had been sent from Her Majesty’s Board of the Privy Council to the various inspectors of schools, stating that “complaints have been made to their lordships concerning the very small degree of attention which reading (as part of Elocntmi) receives in elementary schools,” and making it imperative to include an exercise on the art of reading in the oral part of the next Christmas examination at the training-schools. Lord George Hamilton, in a speech delivered last October, said : “ There was one advantage in connection with a course of scientific training not sufficiently dwelt upon. We might congratulate ourselves that the English was a grand language, and a splendid vehicle for the expression of ideas ; but the great majority of us did not speak it in sufficient precision, and the House of Commons, in which he spent a large portion of his time, was not an exception to this rule. Some utterances delivered there, though dignified by the name of speeches, were very slovenly and slatternly performances. There was a very remark- able-contrast between the speeches of the young men and the old men, and the advantage was entirely with the preceding generation. Few of them were sufficiently careful in selecting their words, and he who is to be a successful teacher or student of science, must be an accurate worker, and must be precise in the use of his words.”* Even now, as we have seen, there is no complaint more general than * Lord G. Hamilton, October 8th, 1879. H KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect I. the rarity of good readers, even in those professions and in those ranks of society where better things might have been expected. About twelve years ago, in consequence of a notification on the part of the late Bishop of Rochester, that a certificate of competence as a reader would be re- quired in the case of candidates for ordination in his lordship’s diocese, a general awakening to the importance of the subject seemed to take place among clergy and laity, and for several weeks one could hardly take up a newspaper, from the “Times” to the humblest provincial journal, without seeing leading articles and letters on “Clerical Elocution.” But no adequate practical result of any substantial and permanent nature followed from all these discussions. It was an illustration of the old proverb, “Great cry, but little wool.” Complaints teemed on all sides, but there was little done to remedy the complaint. Several of the bishops have, I know, from that time advised young curates and candi- dates for orders to take a regular course of instruction in the art of public reading, from those whom they thought were competent, from natural qualifications, education, position, and experience, to teach that art. But beyond this nothing has been done, and the evil is nearly, if not quite, as prominent and widely-spread as ever. What a very able writer says, under the signature of “ Rhetor,” in a letter to the editor of “The English Churchman,” dated October 3, 1861, may be reproduced now with as much truth as then. “ The laity (he says towards the close of his letter) complain, and most justly, of the bad reading inflicted on them Sunday after Sunday. But how can it be otherwise while the present system lasts ? Candidates for the ministry have no proper instruction, either in the public schools or u?iive 7 'sities. They enter on their professional duties with provincialisms and cockney- isms uncorrected, and read positively worse than many of their congre- gation. The varieties of professional incapacity are endless ; the 7 nutte 7 'er^ who swallows all his final syllables ; the drawler, who wearies with his tediousness ; the gabble 7 ‘, who rushes through the service at express speed; the preacher^ who mistakes prayers for sermons; the spouter^ who mouths the prayers with the most painful affectation. All these evils are the necessary consequences of the inadequate estimate of the end in view, and the means to be employed for its attainment.” On the occasion of the distribution of prizes to the students of the Evening Classes Department, a few years ago, the present Archbishop of York, who occupied the chair as president of the meeting, adverted at considerable length to the class for instruction in public reading and speaking, of which I have the honour to be the lecturer. His Grace said “that, in his opinion, there was no subject of more general import- ance than this. It was scarcely possible to attend any church or public assembly of any kind without meeting with instances of defective articu- lation, inaudibility, indistinctness of utterance, or other faults in delivery. In place of clear, fluent enunciation, true expression, and feeling, we too often meet with instances in which the reading and speaking are charac- terised by the absence of almost every requisite that should mark a good delivery. He himself had not seldom heard readers and speakers in which all the five vowels were so untruly sounded, that it was really Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 15 difficult to say which vowel was the one intended to be uttered. There were also often strong provincialisms and other .faults in the intonation and pronunciation, which, with care and attention, might often be speedily removed under the instruction of an able and judicious teacher, but which, while they existed, were most unpleasing to persons of refined ear and cultivated taste. These various faults in delivery which he had enumerated, too often marred the effect of our Church services, the read- ing of the Holy Scriptures, and the delivery of sermons. He there- fore saw, with great gratification, that in this department of King’s College there were lectures and instruction given in the art of public reading, and attended by so large a class, and that prizes also were awarded for excellence in Elocution.” With regard to public speaking, which he saw was in the syllabus coupled with instruction in public reading, his Grace said “ that if, as he understood was meant by this, the actual practice in the art of discussion, of clothing thoughts in dear and fluent language addressed to others, and so acquiring ease and expression in delivery, as well as confidence and self-possession, it was deserving of every encouragement, and met with his warmest approval ; for few things were more painful to witness than the nervousness, hesitation, and embarrassment of an untrained speaker, who often had excellent matter for a speech, but knew not how to deliver it, from want of training and practice. In this country, and in this age, almost every great religious, political, and social movement was effected by the agency of public speaking ; and the advantages of being well versed in this art, as well as in that of public reading, were becoming every day more apparent.” I cannot do better here than quote a very striking and appropriate passage from Professor Seeley’s essay on “English in Schools,” very recently published. He says ; — “The students being assumed able to read, the first thing is to teach them to read well. By reading well, I do not mean merely correctly., but distinctly and expressively. I mean, in short, that they should be taught Elocution. To this I attach the greatest importance. It is more than a hundred years since Bishop Berkeley propounded the question, whether half the learning and talent of England were not wholly lost because Elocution was not taught in schools and colleges. The same question might be repeated now ; so slow are we English people in taking a hint. But it is not for its practical use only that 1 wish to see Elocution intro- duced into education : not as much to prevent English people from swallowing their words, as they do now, to the astonishment and dismay of foreigners who are trying to learn our language ; nor yet that those whose profession or business in afterdife demands public speaking, or reading, may be taught to speak and read with effect. It is mainly because I think that by this means, more than any other, may be evoked in the minds of the young a taste for poetry and eloquence. This taste is really very universal : generally, where it appears wanting, it is only dormant ; and it is dormant because no means have ever been taken to cultivate the sense of rhythm, and to make the deliy^htf illness of speech understood.” — Lectures and Essays., by J. R. Seeley^ M.A.^ Professor of I6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. Modern History in the University of Cambridge, pp. 231, 232. Professor P'. W. Newman, in a most able article “On a University Curriculum/’ which appeared in “Fraser’s Magazine” for October 1875, says (p. 547) : “ If a systematic reading class of the noblest poetry, under the guidance of a judicious Elocution master, were added, and voices were trained in class to sing from musical notes, no lack of taste for our poets need be feared, and provincial utterances might be extirpated.” Now, let me consider another question. Have we, in our modern composite English language, an instrument fitted for and worthy of the application of all the elements of artistic and refined Elocution ? Is it that harsh, rugged, and unmusical tongue which some persons assert it to be ? I utterly deny that the modern English of good composition is a harsh and rugged language when properly read or spoken, unless words of harsh and rugged sound be introduced purposely on the principle of concord between sound and se?ise — a principle that is to be found more or less apparent and developed in all languages with which I have any sort of acquaintance. Why has the reproach of being “harsh and rugged ” so often been cast upon our language by foreigners as well as Englishmen, and a contrast, disadvantageous to us, been drawn between our tongue and that of Italy or Spain, for example ? I think I can give a sufficient reason as an answer. The elements of all tone, inflection, and modulation in human speech are obviously and necessarily the vowels. Let any of us hear the average educated Italian or Spaniard read or speak his own tongue, and we are struck at once with the beauty of the sound of the language. Again, I ask why? Probably the answer will be, “ Because Italian and Spanish abound in so many fine, rich, open vowels ” — and, so far as it goes, the reason given in such answer is true enough ; but it is not the whole reason. Observe a little more closely, and you will find as a rule, generally, that the Italian or the Spaniard forms the vowels purely and sonorously, dwells upon them properly, so that he has ample material for due inflection and modulation, and thus his own pronunciation contributes largely to the musical quality, rich- ness, and beauty of the sound of the language of which he is so justly proud. Now, then, in contrast to this, note the ordinary delivery of the average Englishman, who has had no acquaintance with the elements of Elocution, or with reading aloud, or public speaking considered as an art, and I think you will find, as a rule, that the lungs are but seldom inflated sufficiently, or the mouth opened enough for the pure sound of the different vowels, that they are but seldom fully dwelt upon and properly inflected and modulated, and very little use is made of the many and complicated functions of the larynx ; neither do the articulating organs, such as the tongue, lips, &c., perform their part in pronunciation with sufficient energy and precision of action. Hence that loose, muffled, and indistinct delivery, which the “ Saturday Review,” not so very long ago, in a most excellent and amusing essay “ On Voices,” characterised as “ fluffy,” and asserted that this “ flufflness ” of style was the special char- acteristic of the average Englishman’s speech. Hence that unmusical and expressionless “ gabble,” which so often pains and wearies our ears in the reading-desk, pulpit, and public meeting, and which has brought down Lect. L] 'ON ELOCUTION, 17 upon our glorious English tongue — that tongue which the great German philologist, Jacob Grimm, asserts to possess “ a veritable power of ex- pression and comprehension unsurpassed by any language on earth, whether ancient or modern ” — the reproach of being “ harsh and ruggedd’ No ! I say again most emphatically, the reproach is not deserved. Our English language has not merely a sufficiency of consonants to give it nerve, energy, and power, but quite a sufficient recurrence of vowels, if justice is only done to thern^ to give it full beauty and melody of sound in pronunciation. I give this challenge — Let any one hear a fine passage from Shakespeare, Milton, or Tennyson, for instance, read by an accom- plished and refined reader, well endowed with good natural gifts, and capable, by study and practice in the art of Elocution, of conveying all that the poet would desire to the senses and feelings of his audience, and then say, if he honestly can, that our English language is wanting either in grandeur or beauty of sound. So far, then, I have been considering this object in the light of a high and pure pleasure, which should be cultivated by us for the sake of the gratification which it yields to others, and as a great addition to our social enjoyments. But I cannot conclude without adverting to it under a more selfish aspect. It seems to me one of the beneficent laws of the Creator, that all good is, in the language of our great dramatist, “ twice blest, blessing him that gives and him that takes.’’ So, too, as regards the art for which I appear as an advocate to-night. The vocal and speech organs cannot be properly developed by a course of true elocutionary practice without the whole system gaining wonderfully in physical health and vigour. I might quote many high medical authorities in support of this assertion, but I will content myself with only citing one ; for it is a name of one of the highest authority on such subjects, you will admit, when I tell you it is the name of that eminent physician and accom- plished man who passed away from us but so recently, the late Sir Henry Holland. In Sir Henry Holland’s “Medical Notes,” at p. 422, I read as follows : — “Might not more be^done in practice towards the preiiention of pul- monary disease^ as well as for the general improvement of health by expressly exercising the organs of respiration — that is, by practising accord- ing to method those actions of the body through which the chest is in part filled or emptied of air ? Though suggestions to this effect occur in some of our best works on consumption, as well as in the writings of certain Continental physicians, they have hitherto had less than their due influence, and the principle as such is comparatively little recognised, or brought into general application. In truth, common usage takes for the most part a directly opposite course ; and, under the notion or pretext of quiet, seeks to repress all direct exercise of this important function in those who are presumed to have any tendency to pulmonary disorders. . . . As regards the modes of exercising the function of respiration, they should be various, to suit the various powers and exigencies of the patient. Reading aloud (clara lectio) is one of very ancient recom- mendation, the good effects of which are not limited to this object alone. It might indeed be well were the practice of distinct recitation^ such as im- B i8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I, plies a certain effort of the organs beyond that of mere ordinary speech, more generally used in early life, and continued as a habit, or regular exercise, but especially by those whose chests are weak^ and who cannot sustain stronger exertions. Even singing may for the same reasons be allowed in many such cases, but within much narrower limits, and under much more cautious notice of the effects than would be requisite in read- ing. If such caution be duly used as to posture, articulation, and the avoidance of all excess, these regular exercises of the voice may be re 7 tdered as salutary to the organs of respiration as they are agreeable in their uifluence on the ordinary voice. ^ The common course of education is much at fault in this respect. If some small part of the time given to crowding facts on the mind not yet prepared to receive or retain them, were employed in fashioning and improving the organs of speech under good tuition, and with suitable subjects for recitation, both mind and body would often gain materially by the substitution.” * In an article on “ The Longevity of Brain-Workers,” by an eminent American physician. Dr. George Beard, which appears in “ The Quarterly Journal of Science ” for October 1875, it is stated at p. 447 that “Public Speaking, when not carried to the extreme of exhaustion, is the best form of gymnastics that is known ; it exercises every inch of a man, from the highest regions of the brain to the smallest muscle.’’ I might quote opinions to precisely the same effect from the works on consumption and other diseases of the respiratory organs, of Dr. James Bright, Dr. Godwin Timms, Combe, Mayo, and other eminent phy- sicians and physiologists, but there is no need to multiply quotations ; suffice it to say, that all these high medical authorities concur in the same opinion, viz., that “reading aloud” is, when conducted on sound principles, an exercise for the delicate and for the robust, as healthy and strengthening to the body as it is pleasant and profitable to the mind. Some time since a benevolent gentleman, aware of the importance of good reading, and anxious to encourage the study of the art, liberally made an offer to both our great universities to found a prize of the annual value of ^40, to be given to the best reader. After, I believe, some hesitation, the offer was accepted by Cambridge, and the results, I understand, have been very encouraging. But up to the present time Oxford has declined the proffered gift. I have no authority to state the grounds of the rejection, but I have reason to believe it was on account of the alleged difficulty of deciding to whom, at the times of competition, the prize for good reading should be awarded. Now I must confess to failing to see the soundness of this objection, when we have had for so many years at King’s College the establishment of classes for culti- vating the art of public reading, and of annually awarding prizes for proficiency. And certainly here there has been very little, if any, diffi- culty in deciding at the examination who was the student to whom such prize should be awarded. On more than one occasion, I believe, two students have been found equal in point of merit, and then the council of King’s College has generously given two prizes. If such an occur- • Pliny mentions in his letters that he was in the habit of reciting or reading aloud after meals, in order to aid digestion. Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION, 19 rence happened at the University of Oxford, surely the prize of naight be divided between the two competitors. I can only hope that in a short time Oxford may be induced to reconsider her decision, and follow the course taken by her sister University of Cambridge. But time warns me that I must draw these introductory remarks to a close. I have viewed the subject of Elocution under various aspects, and I have endeavoured to show why it is well worthy of being studied for the sake of its good results on others, and also for your own sakes personally. And I trust I have said enough to prove that the hours you will spend here, in the study and practice of the art of public reading and speaking, will be hours neither wasted nor misapplied. NOTE. Since the foregoing Lecture was delivered, the subjoined leading article appeared in one of our principal daily papers, which I append, as it refers so closely to the subjects discussed in the preceding pages. “An incident which occurred last Sunday in North Wales is well cal- culated to suggest many pregnant thoughts to the three hundred young candidates who are about to be admitted to holy orders in the Church of England. We learn from a provincial contemporary that some hitch having occurred in the arrangements for providing that there should be a clergyman ready to perform service in Wynnstay chapel. Sir Watkin Williams Wynn, after waiting for some time, rose from his seat and took his stand at the reading-desk, where he proceeded to read the service through from beginning to end. It is added that, in conclusion, the worthy Baronet expressed his regret that the suddenness of the call upon him had left him unprepared with a sermon. Be this as it may, it cannot be denied that Sir Watkin had a rare opportunity of affording a chance to the congregation which listened to him of comparing his delivery and enunciation with those of the clergyman whose place he filled. We have no data for pronouncing whether the honourable Member for Denbighshire was more impressive in the reading-desk than his ordinary clerical predecessor, or whether the peculiarities of utter- ance which are hereditary in his family disqualified him for making the most of the excellent opportunity afforded him. But nothing is more certain than that many Members of either House of Parliament are much finer readers of the Church Service and Lessons, when they have prayers daily in their own families, than the average rector or curate who occupies the pulpit or reading-desk upon each successive Sunday. Nor can it ever be unnecessary to remind English clergymen, especially those who habitually perform the service among urban congregations, that they rarely fail to number among their listeners one or more lay- men who have the gift of lending a deeper significance and tenderness to the beautiful Litany of the Church of England, or to the inspired words of Holy Writ, than these are frequently invested with. There are too many in whose case familiarity has blunted the acuteness of im- pression with which the finest passages of Scripture are heard by those who have but few and intermittent opportunities for attending church. Thus, it is impossible for a clergyman ever to know whether he may not 20 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ' [Lect. 1. have among his audience a judge or a lawyer whose delivery has long been famous for its excellence in the Law Courts that he frequents, or an actor who has made it his study for years to get the most out of every word and tone that he pronounces upon the stage. There is a well- known story which relates that David Garrick offered, when staying as a guest at an English country-house, to read the Litany of the Church of England to his host and fellow-guests, and that he proclaimed his power of investing it with a pathos and meaning which would be sur- prising to those who had never heard it read out of church. True to his promise, the celebrated actor so pronounced the sentence beginning, ‘ In all time of our tribulation,’ that there was not a dry eye among his hearers as its concluding words fell upon their ears. ‘ To hear him,’ said one of his profoundly-moved audience, ‘was to find a new sense.’ Mr. Lecky tells us that Burke once declared, ‘ in an assembly in no de- gree inferior to any of Greece or of Rome ’ — that is to say, in the British House of Commons — that there was probably no orator among those he addressed who did not owe something of his skill to the acting of Garrick. “ Such men — whether regarded as players, declaimers, or readers — as David Garrick are, however, of very rare occurrence. But every reader of his ‘ Life,’ as portrayed by Murphy or Davies, cannot fail to remember the extraordinary power and meaning which ‘the little play-actor from Lichfield’ — as Dr. Johnson somewhat contemptuously dubbed him — infused into the parts of Abel Drugger and King Lear. If, in the opinion of Edmund Burke, such orators as Fox and Sheridan owed some portion of their success and excellence on the hustings and in Parliament to an imitation of David Garrick, we shall be doing no injustice to the clergymen of all denominations who were his contempo- raries if we believe that they might, with advantage, have studied reading and delivery in the pulpit by listening to and watching him on the stage. It is the oldest of saws that every great orator, whether secular or eccle- siastical, has in him many of the attributes of a play-actor ; and no one can have listened to the most successful of American preachers — Mr. Henry Ward Beecher — whose name has been so long before the pub- lic in connection with a painful and humiliating investigation — without seeing how closely his performances on the platform of Plymouth Church draw their inspiration from the stage. For those reasons we would have every young clergyman remember that ‘ delivery ’ is as essential to him, if he would become a power in the pulpit and reading-desk, as the thrice- repeated ‘ action ’ which Demosthenes pronounced to be the orator’s first attribute. ‘You have such an irresistible way of putting it !’ said an Irish Roman Catholic clergyman to Sydney Smith, when the witty canon urged upon him the advisability of accepting a State endowment for his church. The same ‘irresistible way of jmtting it’ made Sydney Smith the most convincing and persuasive of preachers ; and it is re- corded that when, some forty years ago, he delivered a charity sermon in York, which is still repeated on the same subject year after year, he caused his hearers to open their purse-strings wider than any of his successors, in a much wealthier age, have hitherto been able to do. Lf.ct. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 21 ‘ Delivery,’ said Dr. Johnson to a young clergyman in whom he took an interest, ‘is more potential than eloquent matter;’ and few of us can fail to have listened to striking sermons of which the effect was wholly marred by the bad articulation and slovenly reading of their authors. It is the highest and noblest of the stimulants which incite a great tragic actor to put forth his choicest powers that among his audience there may be orators of world-wide reputation, and clergymen who aspire to the influence and prestige of a Savonarola or a Robertson. There was once a time — not so very long ago — when the Roman Catholic Church re- fused its sacraments to play-actors, and doomed them, if they died in their profession, to eternal perdition. Thus the body of the beautiful and accomplished Le Couvreur, who had been one of the brightest ornaments of the French stage, was refused access to consecrated ground, and buried in a cattle-field on the edge of the Seine. But it was per- mitted to Voltaire, by an ode of fiery indignation, to avenge her memory from outrage, and to obtain larger charity for her successors. There is nothing now in public opinion to forbid clergymen from attending the theatre, and from trying to borrow hints as to delivery and articulation from any tragic actor or actress who is cunning and skilful enough to impart them. “ But the accidental circumstance that Sir Watkin Wynn should have performed the service last Sunday in a little Welsh chapel will carry the minds of many to other scenes where, in the absence of clergymen, the prayers and lessons for the day are not unfrequently read by laymen. It is one of the fundamental rules of that noble fleet of vessels which, under the name of the ‘ Cunard Line,’ has maintained the communica- tion between the Old and New Worlds for nearly forty years without ever sacrificing the life of a single passenger, that the service of the Church of England should be read in the saloon upon every Sunday morning that is passed at sea. Among the passengers one or more clergymen are often included, and it is by no means uncommon for the service to be performed, upon the invitation of the captain, by some reverend gentleman invested with the holy orders of one among the many Christian churches. With the exception of the Roman Catholic priesthood, to whom the liturgy of the English ritual is an abomination, there are not wanting many Presbyterian or Baptist — or as we should say in England, ‘Nonconformist’ — ministers among our Transatlantic brethren who are always ready and willing to read the Church of Eng- land service to their fellow-passengers. But, failing such a cleric, the prayers and lessons are habitually read either by the captain, the purser, or the surgeon ; and few passengers can have crossed the Atlantic fre- quently without wishing that it was their lot oftener to hear such readers as some among the captains of the Cunard Line. It would be invidious to mention the names of several who are still in command of one or other of these magnificent vessels. But no jealousies will be aroused when we say that Captain Judkins, who, having long been Commodore of the Line, has now retired from active duty, was in the habit of read- ing the service upon the Sundays that he passed at sea with a dignity and impressiveness to which not many clergymen can lay claim. With 22 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION [Lect. r. the ‘ Union Jack ’ folded across the desk which held the Bible and Prayer- Book, and himself the impersonation of a stout British sailor, Captain Judkins has unconsciously touched many a heart when, in the midst of an Atlantic gale, he has given utterance to one or more of the prayers pre- scribed by the Church of England ‘ to be read at sea.’ It is in scenes such as this that a reflective mind is led to meditate upon the oppor- tunities for effective delivery which are within the reach of every clergy- man whether by sea or land, and of which, too often, but little use is made. There can be no more effectual stimulant for those who are permitted to perform holy service upon each recurrent Sunday in every quarter of the globe than to remember that it is impossible for them to know whom they may have among their audience, and that the manner and style of their accent and delivery will often touch hearts too dead to be reached by careless utterances and half-hearted monotony.” LECTURE 11. The Study of the English Language, viewed relatively in regard to other tongues— Im- portance of the Art of Delivery in Ancient Times — Causes suggested for its subse- quent comparative neglect — I'he Subject viewed in reference to Public and Private Life — Quotation from the Rev. Canon Kingsley — The Rev. James Pycroft’s “Twenty Years in the Church ” — Popular Readings as an intellectual Recreation — Good results that might be attained by these means — General summary of the subjects discussed in these Lectures. the Introductory Public Lecture, which I gave on our open- ing night of the session, the remarks I addressed to you were directed principally to one object, viz., the endeavour to show how, in a free country like ours, with an unfettered Senate, with professions such as the Church and the Bar, and with public meetings on all kinds of subjects, religious, political, and social, held all over the country almost every day in the year, the art of public speaking and reading is continually being brought into requisition, and what necessity there existed for the proper study, practice, and cultivation of that art. I venture now to solicit your attention to some further remarks, which I may also term introductory, but to which the time I was limited on Tuesday last prevented me from adverting. No one, I think, will deny that words, however appropriately selected, if spoken or read without due feeling and expression, are mere lifeless sounds that will scarcely affect the understanding of the hearer in gene- ral, and most assuredly will never awaken a single passion or emotion in the soul. Indeed, I may well ask this question — Even when we bend over the silent pages of an eloquent book, are not our minds excited and rendered alive to the full beauty and significance of the thoughts and language, only so far as we imagine the sentences rendered with an appropriate delivery? And when we come to consider language spoken or read aloud, I think we may properly ask, if it is not essen- tially imperfect unless accompanied by purity of intonation, distinct articulation, appropriate inflection and modulation of the voice, due observance of prosody and the great physiological law of poise, the right discrimination of degrees of emphasis, and, when suitable to the occasion, proper expression of countenance and gesture, so as to be able to communicate thoroughly to the mind of the hearer the full import of the words which form the sentences that are uttered ? 24 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect, II. It certainly seems to me that we are not so negligent in regard to the pronunciation of other languages as we are of our own. If we seek a French teacher, we endeavour to meet with one who not only knows his language grammatically, but speaks it with the purest Parisian accent : if we desire a German tutor, we prefer one from Hanover : if a Spanish instructor, one from Castile : while, as regards Italian, its beau ideal is considered to be the ’■'‘lingua Toscana m bocca RomanaT If all this attention be paid, and rightly paid, to the proper pronunciation of other tongues, why should we so much neglect the acquisition of the best delivery of our own ? Surely the language of Shakespeare and Milton ; the language which I am bold enough to say of all translations best con- veys the sublimity and beauty of the Bible; the language of the Liturgies of the English Church ; the language which has been used as the medium for the embodiment and the transmission of thoughts the most glorious and ennobling, by writers whose names will live whilst literature endures ; — surely, I contend, a full comprehension by ourselves, and an effective rendering to others of such a language, deserves to be cultivated with all the care and attention we can bestow. Before I proceed further, let me stop at this place to inquire, why it is that a science and art like Elocution — for I claim that it is both — and which in classical times was so highly valued, and on which such authorities as Demosthenes, Cicero, and Quintilian, have set the stamp of approval, and urged in the strongest terms the importance of its study, should of late years have been comparatively disregarded as part of our education, and yet music, singing, drawing, and other accomplishments have all received their due share of attention ; and most properly so, for I should be the last person to undervalue the cultivation of any one art that tends to promote the grace and refinement of life, and advance the civilisation of all ranks of society. But why is it that Elocution should have fallen from the position it occupied in other days and circumstances? Well, one reason, I believe, is to be found in the fact that the very word has been made a bugbear of, and has frightened away many excellent persons — persons of- taste and refinement — from the pursuit of its study, through a completely erroneous interpretation of its meaning and character. Does not many a man entertain a sort of secret conviction, even if he does not openly express the opinion, that the study and prac- tice of Elocution must eventually lead to a pompous, bombastic, stilted and pedantic style — a style, in short, in which the palpably artificial reigns predominant over everything that is pure, simple, and natural ? Now. all that I can say is — what I said in my Public Introductory Lecture — if Elocution either meant, or, properly understood and taught, really tended to anything of the kind, I should be the last person to advocate its adoption in colleges, schools, or anywhere else. What my definition of Elocution is, I gave you fully on the occasion to which I have just referred, and I hope it is sufficiently remembered by you not to need repetition now. How strange it is, when we reflect on the power, the marvellous power which spoken language has to excite the deepest and strongest feelings of our nature, that the cultivation of the art of its delivery, which once Lect. II.] oy ELOCUTION 25 received so much attention, should afterwards, and for so long a time, have been comparatively neglected ! I said but a few minutes ago that we know how highly the art of rhetoric was estimated in ancient Greece and Rome, and we need but point to the undying names which I then mentioned to show how the great orators of antiquity valued and studied the art of delivery. When the great orator of Greece said that the first, second, and last requisite to ensure success in the art of which he was so illustrious an example was “action,” it did not mean action in the narrow sense in which we are now accustomed to limit it — viz., to “ gesture ” — but it meant all that we are wont to associate together in the word “delivery” — viz., voice, words, pronunciation, expression, and gesture. This was what the great orator meant when he uttered his famous dictum, “ Action, action, action ! ” I have asked, how comes it that the art of delivery, or “ Elocution,” should have fallen in after-times into comparative neglect ? May not this answer be given among others ? The art which has revolutionised the world — the art of printing — was then unknown ; and when there was no press to scatter far and wide over the land the winged words of thought, speech was then the only means by which the intellect of a nation could be stirred or its passions swayed. Consequently, the art of speech was studied by all who wished to influence their fellow-men. Time and circumstance were alike favourable to its development, and its power was well understood and sedulously cultivated. But now we have, not only within all reasonable limits, a free press,* but at the same time, what in other ages we had not, and what some other countries near us have not now, freedom of speech to express all our thoughts, views, and opinions socially, politically, and morally ; and I think the time is at hand when the power of speech may be made an influence in our land, and in all grades of society, second to none in importance. But it is not alone in crowded senates, churches, courts of justice, or popular assemblies, that I would advocate the study of Elocution. Cicero most truly remarks, in his first book on oratory, that “address in speaking is highly ornamental and useful in private as well as in public life.”' And surely what the great Roman said in his day is equally applicable to our own. For, let me ask, even supposing a young man has no present apparent likelihood of debating in Parliament, of arguing before judges, or addressing juries at the bar, or of appealing on the most solemn subjects of all from the pulpit, does it therefore follow that he need bestow no trouble in learning to speak correctly, elegantly, and effectively his native language? Is it certain that he will never have occasion to make a speech or express his opinions at some public meet- ing? Will he never have occasion to read aloud some report of a religious, a philanthropic, or other society, or to read in the company of friends, or in the family circle, some speech or leading article from the newspaper, some chapter from a book, or some verses from a poem ? And what a difference will there be in the effect produced upon the audience, and also on the reader or speaker himself, accordingly as this is done well or ill ! Let those answer who have had opportunities of judging. We are most of us in the present day accustomed to cultivate 26 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect, II. athletic exercises in some form or other, and well for us that we do. Parents send their sons to be taught drilling, dancing, fencing, and other exercises that tend to give strength, flexibility, ease, and elegance to the movements of the limbs ; and very excellent are such accomplishments in their way. But, after all, the limbs are portions of our frame less noble and characteristic of man than the tongue ; and yet, while no gentleman who can afford it hesitates at expending time, and money too, in sending his son to the drilling, dancing, or fencing master, how few comparatively send as systematically their children to the Elocution master, to be taught the right use of that which is the crowning glory of mankind — the divine gift of speech. More than a century ago an eminent writer on the art (Dr. Burgh) remarked that the delivery^ 7nanner^ and address of a speaker are of the utmost importance, and that a just and pleasing style of delivering either our own compositions or those of others is far too much neglected among our countrymen. The charge is still in a great degree true, though I must say in the last few years I think there has decidedly been a change for the better, and there has been a growing desire to make the art I advocate a more prominent part of a gentleman’s education than was the case some years ago. It is greatly to the honour and credit of this great college that it was the first among the eminent educational establishments of the metropolis to make the art of public reading and speaking a prominent feature in its regular course of in- struction. Its importance has been felt, and now, at several institutions in London and the provinces that I could name, institutions for the education of young women as well as men, the art of reading aloud is one of the accomplishments regularly taught. I rejoice that this is so on every account, and particularly that the young of both sexes are now being systematically taught at these places to speak and read their own glorious native language clearly, elegantly, and effectively. It is an art, indeed, well worthy the diligent study and practice of every lady and gentleman in the land. I may mention, as a proof of the estimation in which good reading, simply as a social accomplishment, is held in some of the highest circles of society, that I have in the last few years been present at many literary and musical “ soirees,” where the reader has contributed equally with the musician and the vocalist to the intellectual enjoyment of the evening. It is to me, therefore, a source of great gratification to find that at nearly all our literary institutions Elocution classes are increasing and yearly becoming more and more popular, and I earnestly hope that their good influence will be felt far and wide, and extend even to societies of a humbler social grade, such as working men’s clubs and institutes ; for a real pleasure, a thoroughly pure enjoyment, such as good reading is, ought not to be the exclusive privilege of any one class, but should extend to all, be cultivated by all, and appreciated by all. It has been well said, if in our ideas of the Fine Arts we include all those embellishments of civilised life which combine in a high degree the gratification of a refined taste with the exercise of an enlightened intellect, then must reading aloud hold a prominent place amongst Lect. IL] ON ELOCUTION. 2 ^ those arts which impart a charm to social intercourse and purify the associations of ordinary life. But it must be good reading, or the enjoy- ment is exchanged for unspeakable annoyance. When all the necessary requisites for a good reader are taken into account, we wonder not so much that this accomplishment is neglected, as that it does not consti- tute, with all who look upon education in its true light, an important means of refining and elevating the mind, of cultivating the sympathies, and of improving those habits of perception and adaptation which are so valuable to all. However, there is yet another ground I may take in reference to this subject. Has it ever struck you, as a general rule, that the higher the station of life, the greater the refinement and the more finished the taste of the individual, so much the more pure and polished will you find the tone of the voice and corresponding clearness of articulation ? I remember, in one of the earlier works of that admirable writer, the Rev. Charles Kingsley,* he describes the hero of his tale as being present at a village revel, and endeavouring, but vainly, to make out the meaning of what he heard around him. The passage is as follows : — “ Sadder and sadder, Lancelot tried to listen to the conversation of the men around him. To his astonishment, he hardly understood a word of it. It was half-articulate, nasal, guttural, made up almost entirely of vowels, like the speech of savages. He had never been struck before with the significant contrast between the sharp, clearly-defined articulation, the vivid and varied tones of the gentlema?!, when compared with the coarse halffo7'med growls, as of a company of seals, which he heard round him. That single fact struck him perhaps more deeply than any; it connected itself with many of his physiological fancies ; it was the parent of many thoughts and plans of his after-life.” I have alluded before to the objections that are sometimes urged against Elocution as an art to be studied and practised in general, but especially by those who are in any way likely to take part in public life. If we search into the sources of these objections, I think we should find them chiefly to consist of two classes, viz., those persons who think that a certain impulse, or what they call a natural gift, is enough to eusure success in public speaking, and those who contend that so long as the matter of the discourse is sound and good, the 7?ianner a7id delivery are of very little, if any, importance. Now, to the one class of objectors I answer, granting that public speaking is more or less a “ natural gift,” it is no more so than any other special aptitude for art which God has given us, such as the ge7iius for music, painting, or sculpture, and, like them all, requires acquaintance with principles as well as study and prac- tice to reach a high standard of excellence ; and to the other class of objectors I say, without any hesitation, that with audieiices in ge7ieral the sterling quality, sound sense, and excellent matter of a speech or sermon are but little Rlt or properly appreciated unless accompanied by, at all events, an apparently earnest manner and effective delivery. Do not let me be misunderstood. I am not so much speaking here of discourses or sermons which may perhaps be intended chiefly for publication here- * Yeast, p. 184, 28 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. II. after, and may trust to their effect being chiefly produced on the thinker and student as they quietly read and ponder over such compositions in their studies, but I am speaking here of discourses, the effects of which are intended to be felt, and the aims of the speaker attained, at the time of delivery ; and I am not speaking of what may be the impressions produced on a select few^ but of what is felt by the great majority in audiences or congregations. It is not always our good fortune to address refined and cultivated assemblies, who are willing to overlook a dull, prosy, wearisome delivery, and awkward or defective manner, for the sake of the excellence of the matter. A preacher has not always a learned university for his congre- gation, and a barrister is not always, as I have said already, arguing abstruse and intricate points of law before the Courts of Chancery, a Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, or judges sitting in banco. The minister of religion has to endeavour to rouse the torpid mind, the apathetic disposition or stolid ignorance of millions of village labourers and “ city arabs ” throughout the land ; and the barrister has to address juries drawn from many varied sources in London and on circuit, as well as learned, courteous, and patient judges. And so, too, if a man is looking to the Senate as the object of his ambition, let him remember that election meetings and dinner assemblies of constituents have to be addressed, as well as a critical and fastidious House of Parliament. I do not hesitate, then, to say that public speaking, public reading, or, in one comprehensive word. Elocution, should be studied by every man who is intended for professional life, or likely at any time to be called upon to address popular assemblies. I believe this to be true as regards all professional or public life, but I think it bears with peculiar force upon those who are designed for clerical life. And for this reason — when we speak in public, we warm with the feelings of the moment, we are carried away often by the rush of our emotions and the flow of our ideas, and even the man who in ordinary circumstances is of a lethargic or unexcitable temperament, often, under the influence of powerful passions, rouses up and seems to become almost a different being. This, too, will hold equally good with regard to extempore preaching, but it is often the reverse in the case of the clergyman who has written his sermon, and afterwards reads it aloud to his congregation. In reading, especially if the subject is one very familiar to us, such as the form of morning and evening prayer in the Church Service repeated by the minister every Sunday, and often every day, there is a tendency, I fear, even if the voice be audible and the articulation distinct, to pro- nounce the words tamely and monotonously, and to make the reading seem, at least in extreme cases, as if it were a mechanical task that must be got through in a given space of time. Now we want something more, whether it be the reading of the Bible, the Church Liturgy, or the delivery of a discourse from the pulpit, than mere audibility of tone and distinctness of utterance. We want that full pure voice, with its proper inflection, modulation, and poise, which will make the reading thoroughly significant, and bring out all the meaning contained in each sentence of the discourse with the utmost power and expression consistent with Lect. II ] ON ELOCUTION. 29 personal ease and the dictates of good taste. When this is done there seems indeed to be a soul, a life (if I may use such a metaphor) per- vading the sentences so read, and we perceive at once a power and beauty which before we scarcely seemed to feel or recognise. Now, with regard to public reading, I cannot but think (as I co cf most things in life), if it be worth doing at all, it is 7vorth doing well. “ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might : ” and I say, whatsoever words we have to utter, let us speak them so as to bring them home to our hearers’ minds and hearts with all the truth and power of which they are capable. I cannot think it is a matter of indifference whether a man opens the sacred volume and reads to his congregation a chapter in the hurried and unmeaning “gabble” (to use a plain but most expressive Anglo- Saxon word), or drawls through it in the weary, listless, monotonous tone and manner with which some of us, I am sure, must ere now in our wanderings have heard the Word of God — I was about to say — profaned ; or whether, in voice and accents full and clear, solemn in tone and emphatic in meaning, he makes every word of the inspired page fall not merely on the ear, but on the heart, there abiding, there awakening, there comforting. Surely, if there be such an art, such a power, that art is worth study- ing, that power is worth acquiring. I was much struck with the truth of a passage I met with while perusing a very well-known work by the Rev. James Pycroft — I mean “Twenty Years in the Church.” In the chapter to which I allude, Mr. Pycroft says: “To read in a church is no easy matter. You are required to use your voice in a manner wholly new to you. You have to pitch your voice in a certain key, to dwell upon your vowels, and to read much louder than you ever read before. If really natural, you seem artificial, and you must become in a degree artificial to seem natural. Like an actor, you really must, till habit forms a second nature, appear to yourself to exaggerate, that you may not sound flat and feeble to your audience. “The adventures of any poor curate in quest of a proper tone of voice would often be amusing indeed. At one time I was told I was too low ; next Sunday this made me thin and wiry. Then I read in a monotone, to avoid which I became uneven, as if trying every note of the gamut by turns. When at last I was settling down into some regular habit, our doctor, who had been reading some paper on Elocution, asked me if I happened to have a pretty good stomach, for he could tell me that I tasked that department not only with my Sunday dinners, but also with my Sunday duty : for, in short, I read from my stomach. Then, in altering this, I was alarmed at being told that I read from my throat, and what with bending my chin, and with a stiff cravat, the dreaded ‘ clerical sore throat ’ must come in no time. Add to this, I was informed anatomically that the roof of the mouth was nature’s sounding-board, and that the nostrils were intended to act like the holes of a flute, and that what was called ‘reading through the nose’ was a misnomer ; for I really ought to read through my nose, and that I had 30 AVNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. II. only to hold my nose while I read to acquire at once the true conventicle twang. “ I am only relating a simple fact when I say that every error in the use of my poor lungs, stomach, throat, palate, tongue, teeth, and nasal organ, had their day with me ; and rarely do I hear a clergyman read but I recognise one or more of the same blunders. ‘‘A common fault in reading is the monotone ; and when, as I some- times hear, there is this drowsiness of tone, added to a ‘ drift ’ or see-saw of measured cadences at the same time — why, then even the old nursery tune of ‘ lullaby baby ’ itself cannot be compared to such soothing sounds for rocking the cradle of the hearer’s brains. “Now, reading in church requires so much breath, you cannot afford to waste any. The labour is so great to vocal organs (especially, I may add, when not accustomed to the work), that you cannot afford to tire them needlessly. The voice required is so loud, you cannot afford to lose any of the aids of intonation, articulation, or reverberation. In one word, your lungs, throat, and mouth form one most complicated machine. In reading in church these organs are applied to a new purpose, almost as different as singing is from talking, and the very wisest thing a young curate can do is to take a course of lesso?is from a good Elocution master. Nor coidd any benevolent Churchman spend his 77ioney better than by i?iain~ taining a clerical reading inaster for the benefit of the diocese. “ Many a clergyman, for want of knowing the benefit he could derive from a course of reading lessons, inflicts a cruel drawl upon his congre- gation, and most unnecessary labour upon himself. As to the ‘ clerical sore throat,’ the barrister and the speaker are alike free from it. The dissenting preacher is also free from it. It is for the most part a truly orthodox complaint. It arises not from talking, but from reading, and no doubt from reading badly. Though I would impress that any man may sustain injury if he reads when he has a sore throat. To show what may be attained by taking a course of reading lessons, I will add an anecdote relating to one of the most able and experienced elocution- ists of the day. A certain eminent actor, being rather indisposed, resolved one night, not actually to absent himself, but to deliver his part without exertion. Much to his surprise, he was told he never spoke so distinctly or could be heard so well before. From that observation he discovered the grand secret of' reading audibly without effort, or comparative fatigue, and Mr. formed his system of instruction accordingly.” Now there is very great truth contained in the passages I have just read to you, and the experience of the poor curate who is the hero in “Twenty Years in the Church,” must, I am convinced from my own observations, be the experience of thousands. But there are many other ways in which men, whether clerical or lay, may find it of inestimable value to be able to speak at the right time the right word in the right wa}\ and possessing this power, may find results flowing from it scarcely calculable by human wisdom. Though it is in the Senate, in the Church, and at the Bar that the advantages of being skilled in the art of Elocution will be most manifest, Lect. II.] ON ELOCUTION, 31 yet there is scarcely any calling now pursued by men of liberal education, in which a knowledge of its principles and moderate efficiency in its practice will not be found at times most useful. The medical man has to lecture to his pupils in the anatomical theatre ; the officer in the army or navy to give commands and issue orders, and sometimes, moreover, make addresses to the men who are under his authority ; the engineer to explain intricate calculations and elaborate plans before committees and other persons ; and all these, and I might mention other vocations, cannot (it must be admitted, I think) but derive great benefit from acquiring an art which enables them to speak clearly and intelligibly to their hearers, and with ease, comfort, and freedom to themselves. But I will view the subject now in another light, and on a much lower ground — I mean simply as an intellectual recreation. And let me ask, save music and song, what social pleasure is there greater than that of reading aloud, as they should be read, the great masters of English prose and poetry? The public readings which are now being carried on during the winter months for the amusement and relaxation of toiling thousands in so many parts of England, as well as in the metropolis, sufficiently prove this. To any person who has been present at these social gatherings, and witnessed the delight of an audience when a skilful reader has brought home to their hearts as well as senses “the universal and unparalleled opulence of Shakespeare, the sacred harmony of Milton, the gentle fancy of Spenser, the nervous energy of Dryden, the tender flow of Goldsmith, or the moral gravity of Cowper,” not to mention the great writers, whether in prose or poetry, of more recent times and of the present day, the truth of the remarks I have just made will at once be evident. While bestowing, then, due attention to the grammatical construction and right pronuncation of other languages, do not neglect to pay equal care on these points to our own. Do not, I beseech you, undervalue our fine, expressive, noble English tongue. I am very far from seeking to depreciate other languages, but I do assert this, that there is no argu- ment, however learned or profound ; no poetry, however beautiful and affecting ; no drama, however grand, spirit-stirring, and sublime, to which its wondrous comprehensiveness has not been adapted with force, vigour, and propriety almost unrivalled. I have, however, yet to dwell on one most important result which I have ever found to follow from the practice of reading aloud to others, and to young perso?is especially, the works of our best authors, and that is, the taste for reading which is engendered by the auditors ; and this taste, I firmly believe, once awakened, lasts as long as life endures. And when once we are taught really to know what books are to us, can we ever sufficiently estimate their value ? They are the sources of our learning, the elevators of our souls, the cheerers of our solitary hours, the means by which we taste the purest sources of enjoyment. Nay, if our lives be measured by the ideas which arise within our minds, and not by the minute's or hours of the dial, we may almost be said to lengthen our existence even on earth * From a lecture by Lord Carlisle. 32 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. II. indefinitely, and to live, as it were, at once in the past, the present, and the future. Great, however, as are the blessings, and manifold as are the pleasures, which attend the perusal of the master-spirits of literature, the blessings and the pleasures are cojnparatively 07ily selfish^ so long as we confine ourselves within the walls of our studies. But when we read aloud effec- tively and significantly they lose this character, and then they become blessings and pleasures spread abroad and shared by others in common with ourselves ; and a higher, purer, and cheaper pleasure I can scarcely imagine. I do not for one moment attempt to deny that to attain proficiency in this art of reading aloud requires, of course, the due cultivation, not merely of the voice and ear, but also of the various faculties of the mind ; for I hold it to be utterly impossible that an unintelligent, an unrefined person, can ever (no matter what natural advantages he may possess in the way of voice or person) be a really good reader. Unless there be taste, refinement, and discriminating power within, the corre- sponding intonation, emphasis, and modulation will either be wholly wanting, or else will be found lamentably misplaced. I do not deny that the art of Elocution does require much cultivation, much study, much practice to attain perfection ; but let me remind you, so does every art that is worth acquiring at all. The eye, the ear, all our senses, indeed, require to be cultivated to enjoy the full gratification of which they are capable. Do not, then, be discouraged by what I frankly tell you. You will require to give thought and attention, followed by careful practice in reading aloud the best works of the best authors, if you would attain anything like success in the art which I profess to teach. It shall be my endeavour in the more practical lectures which will follow this, to make my rules and illustrations as plain and simple as I possibly can. I have hitherto, as you will have noticed, confined myself to the task of endeavouring to lay before you as strongly as I could the various reasons why all men of liberal education, but more especially those about to enter the Church, or preparing for the Bar, should include Elocution among their studies. My succeeding lectures will more especially en- deavour to show you how this art should be studied and its principles carried into practice. In concluding my Lecture this evening, I have only to remark that, desiring to carry out as much as possible the principles of Technical Education — a subject which was so admirably treated and illustrated by our excellent Principal in the last opening Lecture, which he gave on the annual opening of this Department of the College, upon the relation- ship between “ General and Technical Education” — I propose in the course of my Lectures, this and subsequent Sessions, introducing the following subjects in reference to the art which I have to teach. You are aware that in the Department of Law the subject of public speaking forms part of the course of study. I propose, therefore, introducing, when I come to the subject of Extempore speaking generally, one or two special Lectures on the various classes of speeches which from time to time the barrister or advocate has to make in the discharge of his Lect, IL] av ELOCUTIOX. 33 various professional duties — such as addressing special and common juries in London or on circuit — arguing points of law before the judges, &c., from which I would venture to hope some useful suggestions may be gleaned. In another respect also I am going to depart a little out of the beaten track. In scarcely one of my classes yet have there not been some young clergymen, or students who intended to make the clerical profes- sion their ultimate calling in life. In the hope.of aiding them a little in the general composition and delivery of sermons, I propose devoting at least one Lecture to the subjects of reading the Bible and Liturgy, the construction of sermons, and the art of preaching. I need not say this will be given entirely from a layman’s point of view as an art^ and not have the smallest reference to any points of theological doctrine — so that I trust I shall escape the slightest imputation of unwarrantably going out of my proper sphere, and venturing where I have no right or authority to tread. I hope also to touch on the various kinds of extempore speeches which it is the lot of most men, at some period of their lives, to be called on to make at public meetings of various descriptions, and to be able to offer a few practical suggestions, which I trust may be of service on these as well as on some less formal occasions, when a man may be called on to “make a speech,” as it is familiarly termed. I have just given you this bare outline of the different subjects on which I propose touching in my present course of Lectures this Session, in addition to those I have always hitherto included, that you may see my endeavour has been to make it as comprehensive as I possibly could in its application to all members of my class, whatever may be their present or future vocations in life. Note. — While the second edition of these Lectures was going through the press, a letter was received by me from a well-known American clergyman and professor, now on a visit to our country, who, speaking of the Social Science Congress, then being held at Bristol, and of the various papers which were read there, says — “Not one speaker or reader in six could I hear without a painful effort which destroyed the pleasure of hearing. All nearly seemed to be rivals in the ‘ unsocial science,’ hozv not to be heard. But this does not apply to any of ihe practised speakers whom I heard, and Canon Kingsley’s address was a most excellent one in every way.” C LECTURE III. How Elocution can best be studied — Analogy between the Study of Music and that of Elocution — Quotations from the American Physiologist, Dr. Rush — General Description of the Organs of Respiration — The Thorax or Chest — The Vertebrae, Ribs, and the Diaphragm and Muscles concerned in Respiration — The Lungs — Physiology of Respira- tion — Capacity of the Lungs — Results of Experiments made by Dr, Hutchinson — The Trachea or Windpipe — The Bronchial Tubes — Mechanism of Respiration. HAVE in my two preceding Lectures confined myself chiefly to bringing before you the principal reasons why the art of Elocution was one worthy the earnest attention of all persons of education and refinement. Having, then, thus endea- voured to show you why^ I have next to show you hoiv^ according to the best of my judgment and experience, this art can most successfully be studied and acquired. Supposing any one were desirous of acquiring the accomplishment of singing, he would in the first place try to secure the services of some master of eminence in the art. This master the student would diligently attend ; he would be well drilled in the very first elementary principles ; daily would he have to practise the Solfeggio, and pass through what would seem at first long and weary courses of scales and other exercises of the voice, before the master would permit him to try its power or com- pass in any regular air or song. This he does, though he has scarce anything to learn but the mechanical execution of what lies in the visible form of notes of various descriptions before his eyes. Or, sup- posing he were desirous of devoting himself to the study of the organ, what months and years would he labour that he might know its compass, and be master of its stops, and be able to draw out at will all its various combinations of harmonious sound, and all its full range of richness as well as delicacy of expression ! Or again, if it were the piano which the student had selected as the instrument for his study and practice, he would, after being well grounded in the first elements of the science of music, as he would of course be in all cases, no matter what instrument he might choose, be then made acquainted with the mechanism of the piano, and be shown the right method of eliciting the various notes, and of increasing and diminishing their power and volume at pleasure, together with the means by which the duration of the tones may be Lect. III.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION 35 prolonged or abbreviated. A man knows all this well enough ; and yet, strange to say, he will fancy that the grandest, the most varied, the most expressive of all instruments, which the Creator has formed by the union of an intellectual soul to the organs of voice and speech, may be fitly played upon without any study or practice. He comes to it as a novice, as an uninstructed tyro, and imagines that he can, while knowing nothing of the delicate and marvellous instrument which produces human voice and speech, yet be able to manage all its stops and command the whole compass of its wonderful and comprehensive powers. Such a man too often finds out his mistake at a time when the mortification of his failure in public is most distressing to himself and most painful to his audience. There is a passage from the celebrated work on the voice by the eminent American physiologist. Dr. Rush, which I may well quote here. After lamenting that, as a rule, at most colleges and schools the only attempt at anything like training for public speaking or reading is the annual series of recitations which takes place on what are termed the Speech Days, when boys of fifteen or sixteen are sent on to the platform without any instruction, as a rule, in Elocution, to act certain scenes and recite certain orations, affording in general more amusement to their schoolfellows than pleasure by their proficiency to the assembled friends and auditors. “ Now in contrast to this,” says Dr. Rush, “visit a Con- servatorio of music ; see the orderly tasks, the masterly discipline, the unwearied superintendence and the incessant toil to produce the full beauty and all the accomplishments of voice ; and afterwards do not be surprised that the Pulpit, the Senate, the Bar, and the Chair of Medical Professorship are filled with such abominable drawlers, mouthers, mum- blers, clutterers, squeakers, chanters, and mongers in monotony.” These are strong terms, and in commenting upon them and some other remarks made by Dr. Rush, a reviewer very pertinently says, “ We cannot leave our public institutions without taking notice, further, of what seems to us the prodigious waste of study and talent which the present system involves. Here and there a man, from some fortunate direction of his mind, or strong natural propensity, or favourable situation, breaks through the difficulties that keep down other men, and rises to a con- siderable measure of eloquence, and becomes conspicuous in his neigh- bourhood or in the country at large. But do we not know that there are hundreds of others whose powers and acquisitions are equally good, who think as clearly and feel as deeply, but whose talents are buried in comparative obscurity ? who think eloquently, who feel that it is within them to address eloquent thoughts to their fellow-men, but who can never say with Sheridan, ‘7/ shall come out T It is not for want of study that these men, the majority, fail. What years have they spent, and spent all their substance too ; what days of toil and evenings of patient thought have they pursued to the midnight hour ! The waning lamp has been no romance to them, the fixed brow and the feverish pulse no poetry ; they have toiled reckless of health and comfort ; they have kindled and rekindled the fire within them, that has wasted away the strength and prime of their youth ; and when they come to the crisis of their fate, when AGING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. III. 36 they stand before the great public and are put to the trial in which they are to rise or fall for this world, they find, alas ! that the very office which they have there to discharge is the office for which they are least of all prepared. With all the sciences and arts they have laboured to under- stand, they have never learnt the grand art of communicatio7i, the science of Speech ; with all the languages they have mastered, they have never learnt the language of eloquence ; and their acquisitions, their reason- ings, the collected wisdom of sages, the gathered lore of centuries, sink comparatively to nothing before the pretensions of some flippant de- claimer. It is from this cause, no doubt, it is from want of this power of communication, that preachers are so often unreasonably charged with dulness. It is not always that the 7?ian is dull ; but it is that, being placed in a situation for which he has not been properly trained, he sinks into a mechanical habit from the very inability to give just and natural expression to his emotions. Many and many a sermon has been written (it is not too much to say) with burning tears, and when it came to the delivery has been struck, as if by magic, with the coldness of death, and he whose breast glowed with sacred fervour in the closet, has appeared in the pulpit as cold as a marble statue. May we be permitted, in passing, to suggest to our preachers and public speakers the propriety — nay, the duty — of now paying some attention to this subject?” To this question of the reviewer surely all must answer in the affir- mative. And then next arises another question — How can Elocution, in the widest sense of the term, be best studied, practised, and ac- quired ? I revert then to the analogy which I drew at the beginning of this Lecture between the student of the organ or the piano, and the student who wishes to make the most effective use he can of his powers of voice and speech ; and I say, acquire first a knowledge of the various parts of the instrument you are going to use, and then you will have a scientific basis for the art you are about to practise. On these walls you see before you various large drawings and diagrams, illustrating the anatomy and physiology of those several organs and portions of the human frame which are concerned in the production of voice, and the conversion of that voice into articulate speech ; and on the right use of which depend so much the health, ease, and comfort of the public reader, speaker, and preacher. The first of these drawings to which I now direct your attention is that marked Fig. i. Here you have a representation of the thorax or chest, which contains and affords protection to the most important organs of respiration and circulation. It consists, you see, of a portion of the backbone or spine, the ribs, and the breastbone. I propose saying a few words in reference to each of these portions of that bony framework which constitutes the chest or box that contains the all-important organs to which I shall have shortly more particularly to call your attention. The spinal column, which you see here at the back part of the figure, consists of twenty-four irregularly-shaped bones, forming together a long tube which contains and protects the spinal marrow or cord — the most important part of the nervous system. These bones, I should tell you, have a slight rotary motion upon each other, whence they are termed ON ELOCUTION. 37 Lect. III.] the vertebrce, from the Latin verto (I turn). Each is further connected with the other by certain gristly elastic substances, which are called the intervertebral cartilages. Now of these twenty-four vertebrcB of which the spinal column is composed, seven belong to the cervix or neck and are termed the cervical vertebrce ; twelve constitute the dorslm or back, and are called the dorsal vertebrcE ; and the remaining five have received the name of the lumbar vertebrcB, from lumbus, die loin You will perceive that the dorsal veitebrcR have each four articu- lating processes, as they are termed, two transverse ones and a spinal one. The two transverse processes stand out on each side, and serve as places for the attachment of the ribs. Fig, I. Let us now pass on to the consideration of the ribs. In general, I must tell you, we are furnished by nature with twenty-four, tivelve on each side ; but occasionally we meet with cases in which this normal number of twelve ribs on each side is either increased or diminished by one or two ribs. You perceive that the ribs are articulated behind with the dorsal vertebrce, and in front with the sternum or breastbone. I suppose I need hardly tell you that the belief which some of the uneducated classes still seem to entertain, that man has one rib less than woman, arising no doubt from the narrative given in the Book of Genesis regarding the formation of Eve, is simply a vulgar and absurd error. The upper seven ribs, to which I am now pointing, are called the true or sternal ribs, because they are immediately connected with the sternum, or breastbone, by means of cartilages. In contradistinction to these upper seven ribs, the low^er five are called the /^7/f^/J^l the latter in thus giving his name rightful claim to originality in what means of inspecting one’s own larynx, cannot, therefore, now, I be disputed. Still, Czermak must have the just merit given to him being considered the discoverer of the art of laryngoscopy in its appli- cation to the diagnosis and treatment of diseases of the larynx ; and he was also the first to practise the application of a somewhat similar contrivance to rhinoscopy, or the inspection of the posterior recesses of the nostrils. I quite agree with the late Sir George Duncan Gibb, who has written a most valuable and elaborate work on the laryngoscope,* where he says that the experiments of Czermak are many of the most important that have ever been, or are likely to be, made, and reflect the highest credit upon the sagacity and genius of their originator. They are so beautiful, and so physiologically true in relation to the human voice, and help us so much to appreciate the pathology of vocalisation, that we cannot be too grateful for them as they appear under the title of “Observations on the Human Voice,” in the Proceedings of the Royal Society. Sir G. D. Gibb himself, in a lecture which he delivered on the nth of March 1863, before “The Musical Society of London,” entitled “ On the Influence of Musical and other Sounds upon the Larynx, as seen by the aid of the Laryngoscope, illustrated by a large number of coloured Diagrams,” took the opportunity of acknowledging how much we owed to Garcia, and stated that his researches, which had given the first impulse to the study of laryngoscopy, had formed the basis of experiments for all subsequent observers. Now, then, let me show you in this diagram a general view of the larynx, and of these vocal cords in particular, when they are in a state of repose and silence. (See Fig. 6.) Fig. 6. View of the larynx in a state of repose and silence, as seen in the laryngoscope. a. Upper or lingual surface of the epiglottis, b. Lip of the epiglottis on its laryn- geal surface, c. Cushion of the epiglottis, d. Vocal cords, on the outer side of which is a dark line, the entrance of the ventricles, e. Cricoid cartilage. /. Trachea. g. Glosso-epiglottic folds, h. Aryteno-epiglottic folds, i. Regulator of the glottis (false cord), k. Cartilage of Wrisberg. 1. Capitulum Santorini, forming the apex of the arytenoid cartilage, m. Arytenoid commissure. * “The Laryngoscope in Diseases of the Throat,” Ey Sir George Duncai^ Gibb, Bart., M.D. Churchill & Sons, New Burlington Street. See also the two Lec- D 50 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV. These two long narrow bands marked d d are the vocal cords, extending, you perceive, from the angle of the thyroid cartilage to the base of the arytsenoid cartilages. They are always quite unmistakable, for their colour is a brilliant, pearly, glistening white, sometimes partaking of a tinge of grey, and, in the act of vocalisation, capable of the most astonishing rapidity of movement. The average length of each of the vocal cords in man is rather more than half an inch, in woman some- what less. Muller states that the relative lengths of the vocal cords in the male and female larynx are as three to two, both in the relaxed and in the extended state. As regards their structure, they consist of a bundle of fine elastic tissue, covered with a thin mucous membrane. You notice that each vocal cord has two free surfaces, one internal, which looks to its fellow, and one above, where it bounds the ventricle ; and the free edge between those two surfaces is the part that is made to vibrate by the out-going current of air, as I shall explain to you shortly. This diagram, then, shows you the position of the vocal cords when we are silent, and you perceive that their vibrating edges are at a distance from each other and divergent behind, and the air that we expire passes by them, when we are in a state of health, without producing any sound whatever. But now, in order that voice should be produced either for speaking or singing, these edges of the vocal cords require to be approximated and put parallel to each other by certain specific muscles, which perform that office, and thus be placed in what is called the vocalising position. This is instantly done at the command of that marvellous and mysterious power — the human will. The expired air Fig. 7. View of the larynx during the act of phonation, as seen in the laryngoscope. The same parts above the glottis are seen as in Fig. 6, only that the glottis is closed whilst sounds are being uttered, and the larynx above the glottis forms a sort of hollow, with the walls somewhat approximated. a. Vestibule of the larynx, b. Capitulum Santorini, below which is the arytenoid cartilage, c. Arytenoid commissure, d. Vocal process, e. Cornu of hyoid bone. f. Pharyngeal surface of cricoid cartilage. now puts the free edges of the vocal cords into a state of vibration, and then sound or voice is immediately produced. The diagram I now tures on the Laryngoscope, delivered at the Royal College of Physicians, by Dr. George Johnson, Professor of Medicine in King’s College. Hardwicke & Co., 192 Piccadilly. Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION 51 show you exhibits the position of the vocal cords in the act of producing voice. (See Fig. 7.) Now, is it not a wonderful thing to reflect upon that all the exquisite music, and the variety of notes we hear in the voice of a great singer, and the expressive and delicate inflections and modulations of the voice, which we hear in a great orator or actor, are mainly produced by the condition and action of these two little cords, each but little more than half an inch in length ? * The more the vocal cords are relaxed, the lower is the note in the musical scale, whether in song or in the inflections of the voice in Elocu- tion ] and, on the contrary, the more they are tightened, the higher is the note that is produced. Alterations in the degrees of tension in the vocal cords are produced and caused by the action of specific and most delicate controlling muscles. But the larynx also plays its part in the production of all the varieties of notes in the musical scale. To produce the deepest note of the voice, the larynx is depressed about half an inch below its mean position, by which the aperture between the vocal cords called the rima glottidis (or chink of the glottis) is opened in its whole extent, and the tension of the cords is very slight. When the larynx is in the lowest position, the voice not only takes its lowest note, but from a diminished action of the air in its egress becomes scarcely audible. On the other hand, when the voice ascends from the lowest to the highest notes of the register of the chest voice, the larynx gradually rises until it reaches half an inch above its mean position, and the aperture of the rima, or chink, diminishes in breadth in proportion as the larynx ascends, t I find it is stated in “Once a Week ” that “Dr. Marcet, of the Brompton Consumption Hospital, has been examining the throat of one of the Tyrolese singers who have lately been warbling at St. James’s Hall, the object of the inspection being to ascertain the physiological conditions which produce the beautiful falsetto notes for which the Swiss artists are celebrated. The observations were made by means of the laryngoscope. It is pretty generally known that the human vocal apparatus consists of a pair of membranes situated horizontally in the throat, and just touch- ing at their edges. A drum head, with a slit across it, may convey a popular idea of them. In the act of singing, the lips of these cords, as they are called, are brought into contact, and they approach each other throughout their whole length and remain parallel. When they are set in vibration, by the passage of air through them, under these the ordinary * A full report of Sir. G. Duncan Gibb’s Lecture on “ The Influence of Musical and other Sounds upon the Larynx, as seen by the aid of the Laryngoscope,” delivered before the Musical Society of London, will be found in the Appendix. + In November 1873, a wonderful operation was performed for the first time in the annals of surgery in the chief hospital at Berlin, by Professor Billroth. The patient, owing to malignant disease of the larynx, was utterly voiceless. After excising the diseased portiori. Professor Billroth supplied its place with an artificial larynx and vocal cords, composed of indiarubber and metal. Voice and speech were restored to the patient, though, of course, the voice had a very abnormal sound. A full account of the operation, with a description and engraving of the artificial larynx, was published by Dr. Gussenbauer, at Berlin, in 1874. 52 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV conditions, a full chest note is emitted ; but if they do not meet in their entire length, either a posterior or anterior portion of them remaining apart, the sound is no longer full, but feeble and shrill : the note emitted is what the stringed instrument player calls a harmonic, and what the singer calls a falsetto, or head note. The violinist who would bring out a harmonic, so touches a string that, instead of making it vibrate as a whole, he divides it into segments, each of which vibrates by itself, and emits the note due to its short length, instead of that which the full length of the string would yield. The same sort of thing seems to be done by the falsetto singer : the adept can at will shorten his vocal cords so as to pass instantly from any note to its harmonic. The muscular process by which this transition is effected is not clearly made out, so that it cannot be determined whether all singers are alike gifted with powers of head-singing equal to the Tyrolese, or whether Alpine melody grew out of peculiar capabilities of Alpine throats.” I am indebted to Dr. Gordon Holmes for the subjoined illustration from his “ Vocal Physi- ology,” of the vocal cords in the act of producing the falsetto. Fig. 8. I have now, I think, given you a sufficiently full description of the vocal cords and the functions they perform ; and to witness their move- ments in the act of vocalisation by means of the laryngoscope, as I have done repeatedly (and strongly advise you to do if you ever have the opportunity), is certainly one of the most wonderful and interesting sights that can be imagined. I mentioned just now the rima glattidis^ or glottis, as it is usually called, and told you it is the narrow interval or chink between the vocal cords. Its extent is greater than that of the cords, for it reaches across the larynx. It measures from before backwards usually nearly an inch, and across at the base, when dilated, about one-third of an inch in men, but in women and boys less. During inspiration the space is larger than in expiration. It forms two changes with its dilatation. In a state of rest the interval resembles in shape a spear-head, with the shaft placed backwards ; when dilated it is triangular in form, the base of the interval being behind. It is provided with wonderfully delicate muscles, by which it is contracted or expanded, and assumes, according. Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 53 to circumstances, a great variety of shapes. At that period of life when the boy becomes the young man, and the girl becomes the young woman, a marked change takes place in the size of the glottis, as well as in the character of the tone produced by the vocal organs. Usually, in less than a year at this period of life, the opening of the glottis in- creases in man in the proportion of five to ten, its extent being doubled both in length and breadth. In woman the change is not so remarkable in character ; her glottis usually increases in the proportion only of about five to seven, which at once accounts for the much greater change which takes place at this time in the voice of man. As the glottis enlarges with the progress of years and the continual practice, on sound physiological principles, of public speaking, or reading aloud, the voice becomes stronger, fuller, and deeper. In woman, the voice always remains comparatively weaker and higher in pitch, her glottis being, according to the eminent physiologist, Richerand, a third smaller than in man. Sometimes we meet with instances of men retaining in mature life the effeminate, cracked, falsetto, disagreeable voice which marked the period of puberty. In almost every case where there is no organic defect or malformation, a single course of lessons under a good elocu- tion master, acquainted with the anatomy and physiology of the organs of speech, will remove the evil. The epiglottis is the uppermost of the five elastic cartilages forming the larynx, and its office is to direct the expired sound, and to open and shut like a valve the aperture of the exterior glottis. Such, then, is a brief description of the larynx and its functions, and these are manifestly so highly important in connection with the produc- tion of voice, that the necessity is apparent to all, that care should be taken by every one, but especially by the public speaker or reader, to avoid contracting bad habits in speaking or reading, which may in any way injure so wonderful and delicate an organ. I have now to speak of what I may term the influence of the auxi- liary organs on the voice. The variation of the length of the trachea, as the prefixed tube, seems to have but little influence on the note pro- duced in the larynx. It is admitted, however, that the elongation of the superadded tube above the glottis facilitates, by the descent of the larynx, the production of low notes, while its shortening, by the ascent of the larynx, favours the production of higher notes. There are two little cavities, readily seen in many persons as dark lines on the outer margin of each vocal cord, between the latter and the regulators of the glottis. These are called the ventricles of the larynx. Sir G.'D. Gibb says it is a curious fact that in most negroes a view can be obtained of their interior, from the obliquity of their position in that race. The chief office assigned to these cavities is to afford sufficient space for the vibration of the vocal cords. The ventricular sacs, moreover, appear to supply the vocal cords with the requisite amount of moisture while they are vibrating. The French physiologist, Savart, maintained that the air may vibrate in the ventricles, indepen- dently, and may produce sounds in such cases, when the other elastic parts are incapable of sufficient tension. 54 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV Let me now ask your attention to this diagram, to which I shall have to refer not merely in this Lecture, but when I come to speak of articula- tion and impediments of speech. (Fig. 9.) Fig. 9. Median section of the head ; frontal bone ; S, frontal sinus ; bone of the nose ; C, cartilage of the nose ; external nostril ; U, upper spongy bone ; middle spongy bone ; Z, lower spongy bone ; O, occipital bone ; V, vertebrae ; Z, the spinous processes; i to 12, the cranial nerves; 13, the spinal cord; 14, superior maxillary bone; 15, hard palate; l6, soft palate; 17, uvula; 18, tonsil; 19, tongue; 20, fraenum ; 21, genio-glossus ; 22, genio-hyoideus ; 23, hyoid bone ; 24, palato-pharyn- geus ; 25, epiglottis; 26, hyo- epiglottic ligament; 27, hyo-thyroid ligament ; 28, supe- rior ligament of the glottis ; 29, arytenoid cartilage ; 30, inferior ligament of vocal cord; 31, thyroid cartilage ; 32, cricoid cartilage ; 33 33, incisors ; 34 34, lips. It represents, you see, a sectional view of the human head, from the central line at the top of the skull to where the larynx terminates. Now, much of the resonant of the voice is influenced, not merely by the state and size of these ventricles of the larynx, of which I have just spoken, but by the dimensions and condition of the fauces, the oral and nasal cavities, and the development of those hollows in the long part of the forehead, marked S, and which are called the frontal sinuses. The eminent physiologist. Professor Owen, is of opinion that that want Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 55 of resonance for which the voices of the natives of Australia are so remarkable, is most probably owing to the fact that the frontal sinus is not fully developed in that race. It may thus be considered that the parts above the glottis, in regard to the production of these secon- dary vibrations of sound which we term resonance of the voice, serve (to use the comparison of the late Dr. Hunt) the office of a short speaking-tube. Much also depends on the proper expansion and position of the chest, for when this is rightly carried out, not only can you then hear the vibrations of the voice in singing or speaking, but if you place your hand on the chest, you can actually feel that the whole cavity of the thorax is resounding within. The influence of the epiglottis, too, must not be passed over un- noticed. When it is pressed down, so as to cover the larynx, vocal sounds are rendered deeper and rather duller. Muller states, “ in uttering deep notes, we evidently employ the glottis in this way ; such, at least, seems to me the object of the depression of the tongue, when, endeavouring to produce very deep notes, we press down the head.” An eminent Italian physiologist, Bennati, remarks that the soft palate rises and assumes an arched shape in the formation of low notes, and sinks in those of higher notes. The uvula keeps its normal position in the lower notes of the voice, but nearly disappears from sight in the production of the highest notes. The importance of this organ in regard to the tone of the voice is very considerable; for if it be of unusual size or deficient in contraction power, the purity and power of the voice are greatly impaired. Accord- ing to the same authority, the tonsils also swell and approach each other when high notes are being produced.* Dr. Carpenter, to whom we are indebted for one of the best works on mental physiology, as well as physiology generally, when treating in his “ Principles of Physiology ” of the degree of precision with which the muscular contraction of the glottis can be adapted to produce a designed effect, says, “ The natural compass of the voice in most persons who have cultivated the vocal organs, may be stated at about two octaves or twenty-four semitones. Within each semitone, a singer of capability could produce at least ten distinct intervals ; so that the total number, 240, is a very moderate estimate. There must, therefore, be 240 diffe- rent states of tension of the vocal cords producible by the will ; and, as the whole variation in the length of the cords is not more than one-fifth of an inch, even in man, the variation required to pass from one interval to another, will not be more than inch. And yet this estimate is much below that which might be made from the performance of a practised vocalist. It is said that the celebrated Madame Mara was able to sound 100 different intervals between each tone. The com- * Since the above was written, I have had the privilege of seeing a most ingenious working model of the larynx, just designed (1875) Mr. Edmund J. Spitta, late demonstrator of anatomy at the school of St. George’s Hospital, illustrating his view of its various movements, and constructed by Mr. Hawkesley. A full description of it will be found in the Appendix. $6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV. ])ass of her voice was at least three octaves or twenty-one tones ; thus the total number of intervals was 2100, all compressed within an extreme variation of one-eighth of an inch ; so that it might be said that she was able to determine the contractions of her vocal muscles to nearly the seventeen-thousandth part of an inch.” The late Dr. Hunt stated in 1859 that some physiologists have endea- voured to calculate the changes of which the human organ of voice is capable, on the assumption that the number of changes must at least equal the number of muscles employed. Considering that at least seven pair of muscles belong to the larynx, and that they can act singly, or in pairs, or in combination with the whole, or with part of the next, they are, according to Dr. Barclay’s estimate, capable of producing upwards of sixteen thousand different movements. When to the proper muscles of the larynx are added those attached to the cartilages and hyoid bone, which may act independently, or in co-operation with those of the larynx, the estimate would have to be very largely increased. But as all the respiratory muscles have directly or indirectly an influence in the pro- duction of the voice, the changes which they are capable of producing in the relative position of the vocal organs will scarcely admit even of an approximate calculation. The number of movements of which the vocal apparatus is susceptible, and the variety of tone which it can produce, may indeed be said to be beyond conception. To students who may be desirous of investigating more fully and minutely the nature and action of the mechanism of the larynx in pro- ducing all the various elements of voice and speech, I recommend very strongly the admirable translation by Mr. Lennox Browne of the elabo- rate and interesting work by the eminent physician. Dr. G. J. Witkowski, of Paris, so fully and copiously illustrated, that no less than one hundred and forty-nine different parts of the throat and tongue are pictorially brought before the eye of the reader, and fully described by the author, and to which the translator has added some most valuable and original notes and observations.* Before I leave the subject of the vocal organs, it may not be un- interesting to you, especially in these days, when Professor Huxley’s Lectures, Darwin’s “ Origin of Species,” “ Descent of Man,” and other works, have drawn popular as well as scientific attention so much to the various points of resemblance and difference between the anatomy and physiology of man and animals, if I touch briefly on the voice of animals, and the mode by which it is produced. In all the mammalia, the general structure of the larynx resembles that of man. The power and peculiar character of the cries or sounds made by various animals, such as the roar of the lion, barking of the dog, lowing of cattle, or bleating of sheep, &c., depend on different degrees of de- velopment of the vocal cords, and some peculiarity of structure in the larynx and other organs; for instance, the “howling” or “preacher monkey,” of South America, though by no means large in size, yet possesses a voice which is capable of being heard at a distance of more than two miles. This extraordinary intensity and power of voice is * Published, price los. 6d., by Bailliere, Tindal, &: Cox, King William Street. Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 57 produced by certain pouches connected with the larynx, and to a large drum-like development of the hyoid bone.* On the other hand, those animals which are wholly silent, such as the giraffe and armadillo, owe their inability to produce any sound to the fact of their possessing no vocal cords. If you wish to enter more fully into the interesting subject of the voice of animals, I would refer you to the works of Carpenter, Darwin, Cuvier, Lehfeldt, and Brandt, the latter of whom has treated especially of that order which has the closest resemblance to man — the quadrumana. Birds differ most remarkably from all other classes in their vocal organs, in the fact that they possess a double larynx, that on the top of the trachea being partly cartilagenous and partly osseous, and its chief function that of regulating the function of respiration. The lower larynx, whence solely the voice of birds has its origin, is situated at the bottom of the trachea, and is formed by several of its lowest rings. It varies greatly both in form and structure, and possesses special muscles by which the distance between the vocal cords may be either lessened or increased. Just as we find certain of the mute mammalia without any vocal cords, so we find rare instances of voiceless birds, such as a few of the vulture tribe, that possess no lower larynx. The birds of song that so delight us with their melody, have no less than five pairs of muscles that act upon their vocal cords ; and, moreover, possess at the inner edges of each compartment of the larynx an additional mem- braneous fold, called, from its shape, the semi-lunar membrane, which is of relatively considerable size in parrots, magpies, and other birds that can be taught to speak. My authority for all these statements is the eminent French physiologist, M. Savart, and to him I refer you, if you wish to enter more fully into all the curious and interesting particulars and differences in the vocal mechanism of birds. When we descend to reptiles and the amphibia^ we find the larynx of the mammalia, as it were, in a rudimentary condition, and their vocal organs, in regard to structure, exhibit considerable difference. The roar of the alligator, and the croaking of the frog, are alike produced by the vibration of their vocal cords ; but snakes possess no vocal cords, and, consequently, can only produce a hissing sound, which is caused by the air being forced out through the narrow opening of the glottis. The French naturalist, M. Hanle, has given a very elaborate descrip- tion of- the anatomy and physiology of the various families of reptiles, particularly in regard to their vocal organs. Most fishes are mute, with certain very rare exceptions, of which the mackerel is one, for, if taken out of the water and seized with the hand by the lower part of the body, it produces a kind of moaning sound, which is caused by the friction of the bones of the larynx, as, indeed, may be distinctly seen, says Dr. Hunt, if its mouth be opened. With regard to the sounds produced by insects, such as crickets, grasshoppers, bees, &c., the quaint remark of the French naturalist, M. Goureau, is generally applicable, that they are rather to be considered as musicians than singers. With most of them the sounds they produce * Humboldt’s Zoological Observations, vol. i. p. 9. 58 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [I.ECT. IV. are caused either by the friction of their wings together, or their almost inconceivably rapid vibration in the act of flight ; but the German entomologist, Burmeister, has demonstrated that in many of them, such as bees, w^asps, and flies, the sounds which they make are not caused solely by friction, but by the air also passing rapidly through the tho- racic air-holes. Some insects, too, like the death-watch, cause a sound resembling the ticking of a watch by striking against wood or other hard substances with their horny mandrils, which is generally believed to be' a noise made for the purpose of attracting the mate; and others of the grasshopper tribe, such as the male cicada of Brazil, can, through the agency of certain internal organs with which they are provided, produce sounds which can be heard at an enormous distance, con- sidering the minute size of the creature by which they are caused. The chief organ that forms this sound appears to be a strong elastic membrane that is stretched across a cavity, acted upon by opposing bundles of muscular fibres ; and the resonance of the sound is further increased by external plates ; and, to quote the words of Dr. Carpenter, so effectually do they act, that a certain cicada of Brazil is said to be audible at the distance of half a mile, which is as if a man of ordinary stature possessed a voice that could be heard all over the world.” The subject of articulation is necessarily connected so closely with that of the formation of voice, that perhaps it ought to be discussed next in point of order ; but, as I shall have to enter very fully into the nature of the various articulating organs and their respective functions, when I come to treat of the different kinds of impediments of speech and defective articulation, I shall reserve this portion of our inquiry until that occasion ; only remarking, for the present, that by the arti- culating or enunciative organs, are meant those organs by whichThe stream of sound is so modified and acted on, after issuing from the larynx, as to produce the several letters which are the elements of human speech. A vowel is a simple sound formed by the impulse of the voice only, by the opening of the mouth in a particular manner, whilst a consonant is an interruption of the vocal sound, arising from the application of the organs of speech to each other ; and all the articulating organs are found in the mouth, and consist of the tongue^ the lips^ the twula, and soft palate, which are movable, and the gums, teeth, and bony palate, which are fixed. But we have yet to inquire what is that organ by which the mind, not only conceives ideas and the language in which those ideas shall be clothed, but exercises the power of calling voice into existence, and by means of influencing the muscles which move tongue, lips, and other articulating organs, forms the various letters, and produces man’s highest prerogative — the gift of human speech ? This dominant organ is the brain, and the light that has been thrown upon its various mental and physical functions by very recent scientific researches and discoveries, has been of the most marvellous and important character. It has now been ascertained, says Dr. Julius Althaus, in his most deeply interesting article on “ The Functions of the Brain,” which appeared in the “Nine- teenth Century” for December 1879, p. 1023, that medulla oblongata Lect. IV.I ON ELOCUTION. 59 contains the nerve-centre which controls the formation of articulate speech, that is, the pronunciation of vowels and consonants in such fashion as to form words. These facts are well illustrated by the symp- toms of a peculiar disease which, although it has no doubt always existed, has only recently attracted the attention of the medical world, and which consists in a wasting away of those nerve-cells in the medulla which preside over the functions just named. As the disease progresses, more and more letters of the alphabet become lost, the vocal cords become at length paralysed, and voice ultimately is completely lost. “ But one of the most suggestive results of recent researches,” continues Dr. Althaus, at p. 1028, “has been to show that the faculty of intel- ligent language, as distinguished from articulate speech, is situated in that portion of the hemispheres of the brain, which is called the third left frontal convolution, and its immediate neighbourhood. We have already seen that the pronunciation of letters and words is effected in the lowest portion of the brain, viz., the medulla^ but this, and all the other inferior organs concerned in speaking, form only, as it were, the instrument on which that small portion of the brain’s surface, which I have just named, is habitually playing. Lower centres are able to hear spoken words, and to see written words, but the intelligent appreciation of the connection which exists between words and ideas, and the faculty of expressing thoughts in sentences — that is, what the Greeks called ‘logos’ — only reside in the third left frontal convolution. This dis- covery was foreshadowed by Gall, but actually made by Broca.” Well indeed may such discoveries as these be given in illustration of the remark of the late Charles Kingsley, which I quoted in my opening Lecture, that, “ to the minute philosopher, few things seem more miraculous than human speech.” Note, — In a most interesting article by Mr. J. G. Romanes on “Animal Intelli- gence,” which appeared in the “Nineteenth Century,” for October 1878, he says : “So that all our lines of evidence converge to one conclusion, viz., that the only- difference which analysis can show to obtain between the mind of man and the mind of the lower animals, consists in this — that the mind of man has been able to develop the germ of rational thought, which is undeveloped in the mind of animals, and that the development of this germ has been due to the power of abstraction, which is rendered possible by the faculty of Speech. I have therefore no hesitation in giving it as my opinion that the faculty of Speech is alone the ultimate source of that enormous difference which now obtains between the mind of man and the mind of the lower animals.” If this be so, it is no wonder that in the earlier history of mankind, we continually meet with divine powers attributed to Speech. The idea of Speech as a divine emanation or energy first arose in the human mind in India. There can be traced continually in the old Sanscrit literature a deification of Speech, and this idea wherever it spread seems to have exercised a fascination on mankind. LECTURE V. Respiration and the proper mode of Managing the Breath in Public Reading and Speaking — Dr. Morel! Mackenzie — Dr. Shuldham — Mr. Lennox Browne — Mr. Lunn, &c. N my preceding Lecture I endeavoured to give a general description of those portions of our frames which play so important a part in the formation of the voice and the articulation of the speech. In this Lecture I have to make you acquainted with what, from my own experience, as well as the testimony of others, seems the best way of using this wonderful and complicated vocal machine, so as to enable it to discharge all its various functions in such a manner as will not only afford pleasure and satisfaction to our hearers when we read or speak, but, at the same time, will contribute most to our own personal health and comfort. I quite agree with a well-known physician,* when he says, “ It is certainly great inconsistency to lavish all our care and attention in stor- ing the mind with knowledge, and yet make no provision for cultivating the medium by which this knowledge may be made available to others.” It is now, while the vocal organs are flexible, and the whole frame exults in the fresh and elastic vigour of early manhood, that you may cultivate the art^of speaking, reading, and other branches of elocution, with such comparative ease to yourselves and such advantage to others. Now is the season when you can most profitably bestow attention on the cultiva- tion of the voice, and the improvement of delivery, as well as the cor- rection of those faults of accent and intonation, which in general spring from ignorance, inattention, or instinctive imitation. In a word, as I have said before, so now I say again with all emphasis and earnestness, the human voice, with its wonderful and varied powers, its infinite and delicate shades of expression, ought to have as much care and attention as we bestow on the development and cultivation of any of our other faculties. From what I have observed in my own experience as a Public Lecturer in this College, as well as a private teacher of the art of Public Reading and Speaking, I really think few persons out of the medical profession reflect on the enormous space which the lungs occupy in * Dr. Mackness on “ Dysphonia Clericorum.” Lect. V.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 6i our frames, and how all-important their sound and healthy condition is to us. To nearly all those who soon break down from physical exhaus- tion after reading or speaking, I would say : — “ How much of your lungs do you think you habitually use in this same act of breathing ? ” A very limited portion, I fear ; in fact, just that portion which lies at the upper part of the chest, and no more : and what is the result when you attempt, thus breathing, to read or speak for any length of time ? I fancy I can tolerably well describe what you experience. Do you not find that your breath very soon becomes exhausted, and being again taken rather hastily, and not sufficiently deep, the results which ensue are the follow- ing, with more or less aggravation according as the natural constitution is more or less robust ; you feel a sense of weight at the chest, of general oppression, exhaustion, and weariness, and very possibly other and more alarming symptoms. And can you wonder at these disastrous conse- quences not unfrequently following? Can you feel surprised that your health should suffer by so wrong an exercise of such an important organ in the system ? I want to impress upon you that proper breathing is healthy breathing ; and that reading aloud, speaking, and singing are, when correctly performed, most healthful., invigorating, and beneficial exer- cises to the body as well as to the mind. If, however, from habit or inatten- tion, you do not as a rule properly inflate the lungs, why, a portion only, instead of the whole, is brought into play, and the portion so overworked often pays the penalty for the additional labour imposed upon it, while the great mass of the lungs, being left unused and uninflated, is often marked by morbid symptoms of various kinds, which lead to serious diseases, of which the “ clerical sore throat ” is the most common. Now, then, on this head alone, viz., the right management of the breath in respiration generally, but especially when reading aloud or speaking in public, there is much to be said. It is, in the first place, highly important that the speaker or reader should, both for the sake of complete ease and freedom in the performance of the function of respira- tion, as well as for the influence of those secondary vibrations of the upper portion of the trunk of the body, place himself in the best position for the discharge of the task he has undertaken — the position that is most favourable for speaking at the same time with energy and personal comfort. What, then, is this position ? It is, in fact, just the attitude in which the drill-sergeant would make you stand — the chest thrown fully open, and kept properly expanded by the shoulders being thrown back and the head held easily erect. Do not here misunderstand me. I do not mean to assert anything so absurd as that a man should always stand in the same position. But the speaker ought to have a normal position to which he habitually returns after every brief deviation from it. These deviations may sometimes be for relief, by a slight change in the atti- tude, sometimes for the sake of expressing some particular emotion. But I again strongly urge upon you that this is to be the normal and habitual position ; because it is that which is the most favourable for the full and free inflation of the lungs in consequence of the expansion of the chest ; and also for the production of those secondary vibrations which tend to increase the power and volume of the voice. Above all things, then,. 62 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. V. avoid the habit which so many men have, who have never received any training in the art, or at all considered the subject, of advancing on a platform to the railings in front, leaning upon them with one or both hands, and making that their normal position. With the larynx and chest so contracted, nothing can be more ungraceful and nothing more destructive to all energy and freedom in speaking. Mr. Lennox Browne says very truly that the lungs may be primarily expanded or inflated in three different ways, viz. : — (i.) By pressing them downward against the lower wall, which is purely muscular and elastic, and has on its opposite or inferior side soft and yielding parts. In this manner the shoulders remain unmoved, and the chest-walls are gradually dilated from below upwards. (2.) By pressing the lungs outwards against the more or less elastic framework of the ribs. In this method also the upper part is not brought into movement. (3.) By drawing the lungs upwards with the collar-bone (clavicle) and shoulder- blades (scapula), those parts which are fixed in the first and second methods. The first way is called the abdominal or diaphragmatic (after the muscles which regulate the movement) ; the second is known as the lateral, or better, as the costal (costa, a rib) ; the third as the clavicular, or scapular. All breath-taking, alike in speaking, reading, singing, and in ordinary life, should be diaphragmatic or abdominal. Inspiration should commence by the action of the abdominal muscles, and the descent of the diaphragm —in other words, by pushing forward the walls of the abdomen and chest. As the lungs inflate with the descent of the diaphragm, the inspiration, being prolonged, becomes lateral, and the ribs expand on all sides equally, but the shoulder-blades and collar- bone still remain fixed.* If respiration be further and unduly pro- * I advise all who wish to have a clear knowledge of the process of respiration, and indeed of vital functions generally, to study the admirable “Science-Primer on Physiology ” of Professor Michael Foster, or the “Elementary Lessons" of Professor Huxley, both published by Macmillan. LEcr. V.] ON ELOCUTION 63 longed, it becomes clavicular ; but clavicular breathing is a method totally vicious and to be avoided. By it the whole lower part of the chest is flattened and drawn in, instead of being distended ; consequently the lower or larger part of the lungs is not inflated. It is a method never exercised by nature in a state of health, but only when from disease, either the abdominal or chest muscles cannot act ; and it is the method least efficacious in filling the lungs, as it is the one calculated most to fatigue the chest ; for it compresses the vessels and nerves of the throat, and this leads to engorgement and spasmodic action of the muscles. The lateral method is more commonly exercised by women than by men, and is, to some extent, considered necessary to them ; for in women the siernu 7 n or breast-bone is always pushed more forward than in men ; but it is an error to suppose that the clavicular method is ever necessary to either sex in a state of health. (See Figs. 10, 1 1.) The above diagrams illustrate the varying capacity of the chest, according to the method in which the lungs are inflated. The front outline A, of the shaded figure represents the chest after complete expiration ; the black continuous line B gives the increase in size of the chest and the descent of the diaphragm, indicated by the curved transverse lines, in full abdominal respiration. The dotted line C, shows the retraction of the diaphragm and of the abdominal muscles in forced clavicular inspiration. The varying thickness of the line B, indicates the fact of healthy breathing in man being more abdominal than in woman. The outlines of forced inspiration in both sexes are remark- ably similar. In sleep or repose respiration goes on with regularity ; but in speaking, or singing, there is always a certain struggle between the inspiratory and expiratory muscles. It is clear that, as the elasticity of the opposing parts is least in the clavicular, and greatest in the diaphragmatic respira- tion, the resistance is in the same relation greatest in the former method, and consequently the fatigue experienced by this method is in propor- tion increased.* In regard to expiration in speaking and singing, which is not less important than the act of inspiration, Mr. Lennox Browne very justly remarks that “ the expiration should be equally easy, not wasted, jerky, or in gasps, but steady and gradual ; for it is on the extension combined with the regularity of expiration, that the intensity or power, the steadi- ness and duration, of vocal vibrations depend. And here it may be remarked that he is the best singer (and it is almost needless for me to add the best reader and speaker also) who can so control the expiration, that the least possible amount of air sufficient to cause vibration is poured with continuous effect upon the vocal organs.! Hence, as one so well knows, the greatest singers appear to have an inexhaustible supply of breath. The method of respiration I have indicated as the * “ Medical Hints on the Management of the Singing Voice,” by Lennox Browne, F.R.C.S., pp. 14, 16. London; Chappell & Co, Price is. t The direction of Senor Garcia, to practise his voice with a lighted candle before his mouth, is known to many. If the flame be extinguished, or even wavers, it is a sign that too much air is being expended. 64 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. V. natural, and therefore the best, was the one taught by the Italian school of the last century. There is just as much teaching of what may be called the decorations of the voice in the present day as then ; but the art of forming a solid basis of voice by long exercise on a right method of breathing, seems to be almost lost, or, if not lost, is overlooked.* Dr. Shuldham, in his valuable and interesting work on “ Clergyman’s Sore Throat,” takes precisely the same view of what constitutes true and healthy respiration ; for, in language quaint but forcible, he says, “ Here are the lungs waiting to be stocked with air, warehouses ready to be filled in, basement first, or second story : there are the cranes, pulleys, and ropes ready to do the storage. Which is the most important part of our warehouse — which will stretch most to accommodate the goods ? Why, the basement. The bases of our lungs fill best, most easily, and the parts below the bases are the most accommodating : therefore that form of breathing called by some authors the abdominal, and by others the diaphragmatic, is the one which should be adopted for all physiological reasons. The bases of the lungs rest on soft, yielding structures. The diaphragm is a large muscle that separates the lungs from the abdominal viscera : it is, in fact, a kind of lift between the upper story of the chest and the lower story of the abdomen ; but, though it constantly goes below into the abdomen, it only carries the same passengers, and these are the lungs. When we take in a deep breath, the lungs expand and down goes the diaphragm lift, with the lungs resting on the upper surface ; when we let out air from the lungs, up goes the lift, and carries back its passengers quietly and with great care. But there are other ways of breath-taking besides the use of this muscular lift. There is the lateral or costal method, or breathing by the ribs, and there is the clavicular or breathing by the collar-bones. Now, when we mark out all these methods specially, we do a right thing, for we individualise the methods and draw attention to the physiology of breathing ; but truly there can be no breathing by the diaphragm without some use of the ribs and the muscles that set those ribs in motion ; therefore these two forms verge into each other, only with this difference, that the use of the diaphragm should be thought of first, and the use of the ribs should be an after-thought in this great act of breathing. In the effort to fill the lungs with air we find that as there is less opposition to lung expansion from below, than from the bony corset above and at the sides, therefore to breathe by the diaphragm is less fatiguing, and also allows of greater lung expansion. Can we hesitate, then, to choose it ? “ The breathing by clavicle or collar-bone is wrong in every way, and we believe that really it is not often put into practice, for one good reason, viz., because it is a difficult method and requires great muscular effort. As the apices of the lungs are encased by unyielding upper ribs and stout muscular tissue, we can at once see that lung expansion in this upper story can never be great, nor easy of management, and therefore breath-taking by the collar-bones should never be practised, as its results are disastrous to health and voice production. It leads to muscular strain, inartistic use of voice, weakness, and finally perhaps to * Ltnnox Browne’s “ Medical Hints on Management of the Singing Voice,” p. 17. ON ELOCUTION. Lect. V.] 65 loss of voice, with irritation of pharynx, and thus to ‘ Clergyman’s Sore Throat.’”* Nor are Dr. Shuldham’s remarks in regard to the necessity of pro- perly controlling the expiration of breath, in order to produce the best effect when reading, speaking, or singing, less true and appropriate ; for he says: — “The breathing should be handed to the care of the diaphragm and ribs, and therefore ribs and diaphragm should again do their service in driving out the air from the lungs. Both processes require judgment. To take in breath is to provision one’s self ; to let out breath is to part with one’s stock. Unless the lungs are well provisioned with air, we cannot carry on the business of speech or song effectively ; and unless we part with our stock with judgment, our respiratory affairs become embarrassed, and in desperate cases become bankrupt. In plain English, an artist must learn to expire, to part with breath, just as much as to inspire or take in breath. His inspiration should be quietly made, without effort and without sound ; the shape of the mouth should in the very act of speaking be moulded in harmony with the different vowel sounds. The head should be erect, the muscles of the neck free, the shoulders thrown back, the chest thrown forward, and both chest and abdomen free from all restraint of tightly-fitting dress. Then, as the air is rightly taken in, the muscles of the abdomen should relax, and the speaker or singer should almost feel the diaphragm descending, the ribs rising, and the abdomen filling out. I say almost feel : he should never be pabfully conscious of this act of breath-taking, as then it will become at once a forced muscular effort. Instead of a second nature acquired by art, it will, by arresting the speaker’s attention, interfere with the perfect finish of his speech or song. The breath- taking should never be spasmodic nor hurried. This comes of too frequent inspirations and lack of art ; this leads to the panting sounds of inelegant speakers; this brings about rapid fatigue of voice, and sooner or later develops the symptoms of ‘ Clergyman’s Sore Throat.’ The speaker or singer should regulate his inspiration according to his subject, his phrase, his power ; his provision of air should not be too scant, nor yet should it overload his lungs. In very deep and pro- longed inspiration, there is a tendency to part with the air too suddenly, as the muscular power that raised the ribs is being counterbalanced by those muscles that lower the ribs ; for there is a constant interchange of force going on when breathing in and breathing out. If the act of inspiration is too prolonged, the act of expiration will be shortened ; and what a speaker or singer looks for, is perfect harmony of adjustment, a balance that shall never be so rudely disturbed as to interfere with the practice of his art. I feel that this point has not been sufficiently dwelt on by writers on Elocution or Singing. The faults of too frequent and spasmodic inspirations have been pointed out over and over again, and the invariable lesson given has been ‘ Inspire long and deeply.’ A good lesson, in truth, but it has its dangers, and I feel it is right to point them out. We would say, ‘ Inspire long enough for the musical * Dr. Shuldbam on “Clergyman’s Sore Throat,” i2mo, pp. 42-44, Loudon: Gould, Moorgate Street. Price 2s. 6d. E 66 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. V. or elocutionary phrase that is to follow the breath-taking, not long enough to fatigue the lung tissue or the inspiratory muscles.’ Yes, truly ‘fatigue ; ’ as, though the strain is but short-lived, yet, if continued, it leads to this condition. “ The expiration should also be easy and without effort. When the air leaves the lungs to be converted into sound, there should still be no strain, no visible effort ; but the sound should flow out evenly, and without any consciousness on the artist’s part of his possessing a larynx to warble through, or a pair of bellows to propel the sound. There should be even less effort in breathing out sound than there is in breathing in air. The artist may be, and must be, conscious of purity and intensity of sound, but this must be produced without visible muscular effort. All swelling of the veins of the neck and of the forehead, and all getting red in the face, point at once to the use of clavicular breathing and lack of art in voice production.” * We can hardly bestow too much attention, or devote too much time, to a full investigation and thorough comprehension of this most im- portant branch of our subject ; for, as Mr. Charles Lunn says in the fourth edition of his very interesting and suggestive little work on “ The Philosophy of Voice ” t (which I strongly recommend to every student of the art of singing or speaking) : “ Voice production affects the pulpit, the platform, the forum, and the stage ; and the principles of restora- tion should be known to every national school teacher throughout the kingdom, and especially should they be known to every medical ])ractitioner ; for voice production embraces a far wider sphere than music, and penetrates where the latter never enters. It is said that ‘ prevention is better than cure ; ’ by true use of voice, chest disease in many who have its tendency could be successfully warded off ; and this because a greater consumption of carbon takes place, quickening circulation, and hastening digestion ; so that true speakers and singers feel only hunger after work. Surely, as a question of health, the voice should be cultivated collaterally with the culture of words ; both spoken words and vocal tone should grow up together, but each power should be taught in its specific mode. While medical men have often recom- mended the healthful exercise of song, they have not (with rare excep- tions, I would remark), made their word of the worth it might be made, by troubling to go deeper into the question and deciding what work is right work ; this they should now do. We know how important it is to change the air we breathe, so that what we take in be not vitiated ; how much more important, then, that the air within us be pure, and not potable poison ; yet all cannot be thoroughly vitalised within us, unless we take violent bodily exercise or obtain true use of voice.” Further on, Mr. Lunn states that, in his opinion, “ the whole gist of study may be summed up thus : Hold the breath on deep inflations ; by ceasing to will to hold. Nature sets the instrument in accurate action; let the involuntary pressure continue the sound ; and by repeated use in such manner, the instrument will, in time, become habituated to right action^ * Dr. Shuldham, pp. 47, 48. t Bailli&re, Tindal, tSc Cox, King William Street, Strand, London. Price is. 6d. Lect. V.] ON ELOCUTION. 67 — a servant to our wills, instead of a tyrant crippling and frustrating our desires. It is strange that exactly at the same time German assumption was doing its utmost to destroy the little known in voice training, a medical man should be making experiments in Edinburgh, which ultimately resulted in the greatest scientific discovery affecting the science of voice production that has ever been put before the public, and which discovery conclusively supports, from a scientific point of view, the teaching of the ancient school of song. Dr. Wyllie’s explana- tion of the use of the false cords and the ventricles gives the true solution to the right use of voice, the air in the ventricles acting some- what analogously to the air which a trumpet-player imprisons in his cheeks ; the greater reservoir of air keeps the lesser one always full, and the control of measured force from the greater is dependent upon the fulness of the less, this simply owing to the distribution of nerves. Now, no man can speak or sing with perfect self-possession and accurate response to will, unless he has masterful control over the respiratory apparatus ; and no man can have this control, unless his organs of voice be rightly used — a corroborative proof, being the connecting link between Dr. Wyllie on the one side and Senor Garcia on the other, is found in the fact that sound can be whispered at the false cords, the air escaping in an elongated hiss, while the true cords, being open, do not vibrate. The breath under these conditions is held back in sustained escape, and is consumed in about the same time as it would be consumed were a vocal tone accompanying it.” * Dr. Shuldham’s remarks on this subject are well worthy of being quoted. He says : “ When the breath-taker wishes to convert the air stored within his lungs into musical sound or intelligent speech, then comes ‘ the tug of war ; ’ the expiratory muscles are engaged in driving out musical air, whilst the inspiratory muscles are busy in making the expulsion as slow as possible ; there is a muscular antagonism going on, and this Dr. Mandl in his interesting work, ‘ L’Hygiene de la Voix,’ calls the ‘ lutte vocalle^^ or vocal contest We can see, therefore, that to make the contest as even as possible, and as little fatiguing as possible, in speech or song, the abdominal breathing should be adopted, for this allows the lungs to be fully expanded without laying extra stress on the intercostal muscles, and lets the shock of this ‘ vocal contest ’ fall on the soft parts of the abdomen, which yield to pressure, rather than letting all the violence of the '‘lutte vocaW fall on the hard and less yielding structures of the bony thorax. If the pressure is taken off the chest-structures, other parts concerned in voice production will suffer less, as, for instance, the larynx and pharynx ; there will be consequently less fatigue of voice complained of by the use of abdominal breathing, and ‘ Clergyman’s Sore Throat ’ may be written about but not pre- scribed for. “ In the exclusive use of the lateral method of breathing by the help of rib movements, or of the clavicular method, /.., more and more of it is brought into operation, E being formed at the back of the mouth ; 00 at the most advanced part of it, indeed by the lips almost exclusively, whilst the open A proceeds from the centre, where the utmost resonance is possible. This discovery not only justifies the choice of the open A as the vowel on which the voice should be first and most exercised ; but also suggests the order in which the practice of the other vowels should be taken up. As the open A is formed in the central position of the oval tube, so are O and the narrow A in that nearest to it, the former involving the employment of more of the tube than the latter. “ To the utterance of these vowels on the dominant notes — those nearest to the middle of his voice— now fully sustaining them, now attacking them suddenly and quitting them in like manner, at various degrees of intensity, the student should devote a good deal of his time and his very best attention. He should begin with, and often return to the practice of, the open A ; begin with it because it is the easiest, and return to it because experience has shown it to be the most useful. The practice of the open A had best be followed by that of O, and that of O by that of the narrow A. 00 had better follow, and E, incomparably the most difficult, be attacked last. The maintenance of the proper degree of adjustment of the variable cavity of the mouth and lips may be tested from time to time by the eye, with the aid of a looking-glass ; and that of the pitch, by an occasional reference to a musical instru- ment.” So much for the judicious remarks of Professor Hullah. Whilst we are considering the different vowels, or, in other words, the elements of voice, a most important subject, for on them only can inflection and modulation take place in elocution, and the different notes of the musical scale in song, I may mention here, that a very excellent and ingenious German teacher of singing, Herr Georges, has lately brought into notice a simple mechanical instrument which he has invented, and used with great success among his pupils, for the purpose of making them acquainted with the different degrees of aperture which the mouth should have for the pure formation of the different Lect. VIL] ON ELOCUTION 87 vowels, which, I need hardly repeat, ought to be formed, so far as regards purity of sound, exactly in the same manner, whether in song or in elocution. The instrument is a little ivory wedge, of the size and shape sub- joined. The mode in which it is to be used is to apply it to the position of an upright triangle, as in the illustration. The notched line may be called the hypotenuse. The distances for the various degrees of aperture of the mouth are measured by the perpendiculars, from any given point in the hypotenuse to the base of the wedge. The latter is inserted between the upper and lower front teeth, and the teacher determines the respective distances for the various vowels ; for, as we all know, the size of the human mouth varies very much in different individuals, and the notch that would suit one person for the pure production of a given vowel, such, for instance, as the open A, would not suit another if his mouth were materially larger or smaller. The ear and judgment of the master, therefore, must determine what notch in the wedge is proper for each pupil. As a general rule, the scale subjoined will hold good in most instances. The open A, as in the word “ father,” should, as Professor Hullah says, be the first vowel practised, and for its pure formation the range is from notch lo to 14. The position of the tongue and other particulars have already been given in my quotation from Professor’s Hullah’s little work. For the vowel O, as in the word “rose,” the variation in the opening of the mouth is from notch 8 to 12. In its pure production, moreover, the lips assume a globular or elliptical shape, something like the form of the letter itself, and also slightly protrude. The position of the mouth in the production of O is particularly favourable for resonance, as the cavity obtained is neither too small nor too large. In the true formation of this vowel, the tongue is somewhat raised and slightly drawn back, remaining in a spread position, and the edges of the upper and lower teeth require just to be visible, in order to prevent the soft substance of the lips from absorbing the sound. The shape of the mouth being ascertained, great care should be taken to continue the form during the whole time the vowel is dwelt on. This remark holds good, indeed, with regard to all the vowel sounds; for the slightest deviation is felt, E being very liable to merge into the narrow A, and the open A into O, and I into E, and a very minute change in the 88 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIT, opening of the mouth or the position of the tongue or lips will effect this modification. In the formation of the narrow A, or in the gamut of long E, which is sounded like A in the word “ pale/’ the range of the wedge is from notch 4 to 6, and in its formation the lips have to be fairly open and extended a little laterally ; the apex of the tongue is raised towards the hard palate, and its tip pressed gently against the lower front teeth. In the production of E, or in the gamut I, and pronounced like ee in the word “ see,” the form of the mouth resembles that of a narrow A, in speech, or E in the gamut, but the lips, however, require to be more laterally extended and the tongue raised a little higher. It is said to be the most troublesome of all the vowels to form quite purely, and very apt to merge into the sound of others ; but it only requires a little attention to the right mode of its production, and perseverance in its practice, to easily overcome the difficulty which its formation presents. Last of all, we come to the vowel U, in the gamut sounded as oo in the word “moon,” and for its proper formation the range of the wedge is from notch 6 to 8 ; and the most eminent teachers advise that its right sound should be acquired by taking first O, and, as it were, gliding into it, by protruding the lips a little more, narrowing the aperture of the mouth, and drawing down the tongue. If the 'formation of these vowels be carefully studied and practised, the ear will soon become sufficiently trained to acquire easily every modification of vowel sound that the right pronunciation of words may require, whether in speech or song. You will have noticed that for the pure sound of the different vowels to be heard, it is not merely sufficient that the mouth should be open to the requisite degree, but the proper position of the lips must also be borne in mind. The subjoined illustrations, designed by the celebrated Italian Eoj La, Mi St Fig. 14. singing master. Signor Gesualdo Lanza, and for which I am indebted to Herr Georges, will serve to show what these positions are. Lect. VIL] ON ELOCUTION 89 The voice of the pupil in the art of singing is formed and developed by what is termed the practice of the solfeggio, that is, by the formation of these vowels purely, and then sustaining them in a certain prescribed manner upon that scale of notes which in music is called the gamut. By a modification of the principle may the voice of the pupil in the art of elocution be formed and developed where it is impure, weak, or defective in the way suggested by Professor Hullah in his able little work on the cultivation of the speaking voice, and for this purpose he appends to his treatise a series of tables of words, consisting of vowels and consonants, specially adapted to such an end. In this place I may as well, perhaps, mention that voices are classified in each sex under three principal descriptions — in men, the bass, the baritone, and the tenor ; in women, the contralto, the mezzo- soprano, and the soprano. The bass, which is the lowest voice in the scale, surpasses all others usually in volume and power, but is apt to be wanting in richness or roundness of tone. Next above in the scale we have the baritone, which would seem to be the normal male voice, and is generally found to be characterised by the most compass, flexibility, and tmibre. Lastly comes the tenor, the highest in the Scale, and the smoothest and most tender and delicate in quality. The contralto is the lowest female voice, and full and rich in quality. The mezzo-soprano is the next in the scale above, and is to woman what the baritone is to man. As a rule, the baritone and the mezzo-soprano voices preserve their power, tone, and compass longer than any others, and instances are recorded of their having done so long after the age of threescore years and ten. It is a somewhat perplexing question to decide which of the class of voices above enumerated should be considered as the most perfect ; but most physiologists and musicians give the preference in males to the baritone, and in females to the mezzo-soprano, as being the most expres- sive generally, as well as the most serviceable and permanent. Dr. Hunt asserts that all these various descriptions of voices depend, mainly, both on the dimensions and length of the vocal cords, but other circumstances must, however, be taken into consideration. It is certain, at all events, that an elastic ligament of a certain thickness will yield a deeper tone than a ligament of the same length and tension, but thinner in structure. The physiologist Harless found on examination that the vocal cords of old people are much thinner in proportion to their length than those of children, whose vocal cords are much thicker. Moreover, the character of the voice is besides determined by the elastic capacity of the vocal cords. There can be no question but that stretched liga- ments must, ccete7'is paribus^ yield a higher normal sound than slackened ones, and it is chiefly upon this difference that the varieties of bass, baritone, and tenor depend in men, and contralto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano depend in women. Merkel, a name of high authority that I have quoted before, states that the vocal cords of high tenors and sopranos are generally thinner, proportionately, though not narrower, than those of bass and contralto voices. 90 AGING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. It may be interesting to you to know what are the physical requisites that, taken collectively, may be said to constitute the ideal of perfection, and if the intellect, judgment, imagination, and taste be of equal excellence, to form the highest type of public speaker, reader, or singer. The physical requisites, then, are these, according to the best medical and scientific authorities : — a large, well-developed, and elastic chest ; lungs well-proportioned in size and sound, and healthy in condition ; neck of proper dimensions and muscular, but not too long ; the thyroid gland sufficiently developed to receive the disposable blood, and to sustain the exercise of the voice without any hoarseness or sense of fatigue, nor should it be in a state of hypertropy, for if it is so, the gland then presses unduly upon the veins of the neck, and renders the movements of the larynx more difficult. The larynx itself should be rather above the average size. The two portions of the thyroid cartilage, but especially the arytsenoid cartilages, must be perfectly symmetrical, and the all-important vocal cords should be perfectly elastic, and exactly opposite to each other. It is also very necessary that the ventricles of the larynx and the frontal sinuses should be larger, in order to give full resonance to the voice. Dr. Hunt remarks that as the tongue, the soft palate, and the uvula undoubtedly exercise a paramount influence on the modulation of the voice, it is essential that these organs should be in a perfectly healthy condition as regards volume, texture, and mobility. It has been observed that the thinner and more movable the soft palate, the more flexible is the voice ; and that those with whom it is comparatively thick have voices stronger but less flexible. It is hardly necessary, after what I have already said in a former lecture, for me to repeat that the hard palate, the nasal passages, the lips, and the teeth should all be well formed and in good condition. Herr Georges says very truly, in his “ Guide to Vocalisation,” that the thorough cultivation of the voice requires as much labour, ability, and care as the study of the piano or violin ; and if it ensures success sooner than these instruments, it simply proves its superiority over them ; but with equal truth I believe I can say that, although there may be comparatively but few persons possessing all the essential requisites to become pre-eminently great speakers, readers, or singers, there are still fewer who cannot by judicious cultivation arrive at some excellence, and I am sure my own experience among the many hundreds of pupils that I have had in this College since the time I was first appointed to my present Lectureship here, fully justifies me in asserting (without any reference to private pupils, who necessarily have much more individual care, time, and attention bestowed upon them ) that there is no voice which may not, under judicious instruction by the teacher, and careful practice on the part of the pupil, be wonderfully improved in tone, strength, volume, and compass : and a similar remark in regard to the matter of articulation in cases of defective utterance or impediments of speech, may with equal truth be made. This holds good, I am sure relatively, though certainly not in the same degree, with regard to all ages of life, as you know in our Public Reading and Speaking Classes in this College we have had among our students all Lect. VII. J ON ELOCUTION. 91 ages, from sixteen to sixty, just as we have had all professions repre- sented. Of course, in early youth and manhood, the vocal organs and muscles generally are more flexible, and consequently more susceptible of improvement, than they are when the culture of the voice is taken up for the first time at mature or advanced life ; but still I say again from what I have remarked among my pupils, here and elsewhere, there is no age at which the voice may not be greatly improved under judicious instruction and careful practice. As I shall have in this and subsequent Lectures to speak of the sound- wave and other kindred technical terms, it may not be out of place here if I give you a few brief facts which I hope may be of some interest to you respecting sound in general, and of the sound of the human voice in particular ; but for all full details I would refer you to the admirable course of lectures on Sound recently delivered by Professor Tyndall at the Royal Institution, and which are published in the Annual Trans- actions of that Society. Whensoever the molecules of matter of which any solid body is composed are by a blow, or some other disturbing force, thrown into a state of agitation, they will communicate it to all surrounding bodies composed similarly of molecules or atoms, as the smallest conceivable ultimate particles of which matter is composed are termed. Thus we commonly speak of the molecules in a block of wood and of the atoms in a certain quantity of gas or air. The alternate motions to and fro which are the result of the disturbed equilibrium of the component molecules or atoms are called vibrations, waves, undulations, or oscilla- tions. You strike a bell, for instance, a powerful blow with a hammer. What instantly takes place on the impact of the hammer upon the bell ? The molecules of which the metal of the bell is composed are no sooner driven in by the force of the blow, than they are urged back beyond their former position by repulsion, and again carried beyond their position of repose by cohesive attraction. All the adjoining particles of the metal of the bell being necessarily affected, the whole mass will partake of the vibratory motion, which will only cease after a certain time has elapsed, longer or shorter, in proportion to the force of the concussion. Now these vibrations may be transmitted through any substance, whether liquid, solid, or aeriform ; but the ordinary medium by which these undulations are propagated is the atmosphere, and when these waves or vibrations reach the brain by means of the auditory nerves through the ear, the sensation we experience is termed sound. That it is necessary there should be a proper medium for thus transmitting these vibrations is perfectly demonstrable ; for, if we ring a bell under the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, we can scarcely perceive any sound at all \ but, as we gradually let in the air again, the sound of the ringing, or vibrations of the particles of which the metal of the bell is composed, becomes more and more audible in proportion to the quan tity of air readmitted. So, too, when we stand on the summit of a lofty alpine peak and attempt to speak or sing, not only do w’e experi- ence a difficulty in doing so from the rarity of the air we are breathing. 92 KIXG^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. vn. but the sound we produce as voice is for the same reason audible only at a comparatively short distance. These vibrations, too, may be distinctly felt as well as heard ; for if you take an ordinary dessert finger glass, half fill it with water, then dip the finger in water and gently rub the edge of the glass with the end of the finger so wetted in a circular direction, not only will a musical sound be produced, but, if you gently touch the outside of the glass with the fingers of the other hand, you will distinctly feel the vibrations of the particles of which the glass is composed. Or, if you take up a tuning-fork and strike it, and suddenly stop it with the finger, you will at once feel a peculiar sensation arising from the fork rapidly striking the finger. But these vibrations may not only be heard as sound by the ear, and felt by the sense of touch — they may also be actually seen by the eye, and most wonderful and interesting are the figures produced by these vibrations, as seen in that form, called after the discoverer, Chladni’s Figures. These are the figures which are exhibited by fine sand, when strewn upon a horizontal plate, clamped at one point, and set in vibration by a violin bow. The formation^ of the figure is an immediate consequence of the formation of nodal lines, or lines of rest. If the plate used be square, and clamped in the middle, the lowest, or fundamental note, is produced when the plate vibrates in four segments. Now, if the finger be lightly placed at one corner, and the bow be drawn across the edge at the centre of one of the adjacent sides, the only lines of rest will be the two diagonals. These will divide the square into four segments, of which the two opposite ones are always in the act of ascending and descending, while the neighbouring segments are so related, that when one is going up, its neighbours are going down, and vice versa. The particles of sand are tossed about as long as they are upon the moving segments, but when they fall upon the nodal lines (in this case the diagonals), they remain at rest. The result is that the sand quickly accumulates on these lines. A square plate may also be made to vibrate in four segments, by touching the centre of one of the sides with the finger and drawing the bow across the corner. The lines of rest in this case are the two straight lines joining the centre of the opposite sides. Now, if in either of the above cases, the finger being placed as before, the bow be drawn more lightly and rapidly, it is pos- sible to make the plate sound the higher octave. This is immediately exhibited by the nodal lines, four curved fresh lines not crossing the original ones being produced, so that the whole plate is now divided into eight segments. By varying the point at which the finger is placed and the bow drawn, a countless variety of figures of great beauty may be produced. The number may be still further increased by varying the point at which the plate is clamped. In all cases the point touched by the finger, and all symmetrically situated points, are the extremities of the lines of rest, while the point scraped by the bow, and all symme- trically situated points, are in maximum vibration. The relation between the pitch of the note and the number of segments in which the plate is divided, is well shown by means of a circular disk, clamped in the centre. If the finger and bow are one-eighth of the circumference apart, the segments are four in number, and the fundamental note is produced. Lect. VIL] ON ELOCUTION. 93 If the distance between the two is one-sixteenth of the circumference, the higher octave is produced, and so on. Circular segments may be obtained by clamping the circular disk, eccentrically making a hole in the centre, and drawing a few horse hairs through it. The point where the plate is clamped will be a point in the nodal circle. The same effect may be shown in a still more striking manner by fastening a rod of wood or brass to the centre of the disk and (holding the rod in the middle) setting it in longitudinal vibration by rubbing it with resined leather. Sand then strewn on the disk will arrange itself in the rings of nodal lines, which will be more numerous the shorter the rod. Sand figures produced in any of these ways may be rendered permanent by transfer- ring them to blackened paper, the surface of which has been moistened by gum. If iron filings be used for the purpose of exhibiting these most curious experiments instead of sand, they may be exposed to the vapour of nitro-hydrochloric acid until some perchloride of iron is formed ; then, if a piece of white paper, moistened with ferro-cyanide of potassium, is pressed upon them, the forms assumed by the iron filings will print themselves indelibly in deep blue. I have entered into all these curious particulars for the purpose of showing you what a marvel- lous, interesting, and beautiful phenomenon sound is, and what mysteries are involved in it past our comprehension. Sound, if the atmosphere is in suitable condition, may be propagated to very great distances. It is recorded in one of the Polar Expeditions that, over a level surface, the air being calm and frosty, Lieut. Foster was able to make his voice heard and carry on a conversation with a person at a distance from him of fully a mile, if not more. But this distance is trifling compared to what is stated in the “ Philosophical Transactions” of 1708, on the authority of Derham, who asserts that the human voice has been heard across the Straits of Gibraltar, that is to say, upwards of ten miles. The fact that all sounds proceed in waves of greater or less length and of greater or less number in a moment of time, will at once explain the cause of the annoyance to which a speaker or reader is liable when he is addressing an audience in a large hall, not well constructed on acoustic principles, and finds his words coming back to him in a kind of reverberation or echo. When sound-waves impinge upon a hard sur- face, or a surface more or less elastic, they are partly transmitted and partly reflected, causing often an echo ; and, with regard to the direction of the sound-wave reflected from a surface, it is found to follow exactly the same law as the reflection of light and heat, viz., that the path of the sound-wave after reflection makes precisely the same angle with the reflecting surface, if plane, as it did before reflection. The curvature of the walls in the interior of many public buildings is such, that the sound of the voice when the speaker is near one wall will often be twice reflected, so that those who are situated at a corresponding point near the opposite wall will hear the speaker quite distinctly, while those between the two, and, therefore, nearer the speaker, will fail to do so. When a person is obliged to speak or read under such disadvantageous cir cumstances, the only suggestion I can offer to mitigate the difficulty lie 94 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. will have in making his words heard, is to be slower and more deliberate than usual, to make the proper grammatical and other pauses in the construction of his sentences of somewhat longer duration, and to be very firm and careful in the use of all the articulating organs, tongue, lips, &c., so as to lessen the confusion of sounds as much as possible. Sounds are distinguished from each other by their intensity, pitch, or timbre. The intensity or loudness of a sound will always depend on the extent of the vibrations of the sounding body. By varying the force of the concussion, as when we beat a drum, or when we put our vocal cords in action in speaking or singing, by directing the current of air against them through the windpipe and larynx ; by varying the force of the impact and rendering it more or less powerful, we can from the same instrument produce at will sounds differing in degrees of loudness. The intensity of the sound heard by us will also depend on our nearness or remoteness from it, and sound also in this respect seems subject to the same law as light — viz., that it will diminish in force in proportion to the square of the distance. This law, however, only applies to sounds that reach us immediately from the instrument that produces them through the medium of the air ; for when sounds are confined within tubes, as in the case of the speaking-trumpet, so that the sound-waves •cannot diverge, but are successively reflected from the sides of the in- terior of the trumpet, the voice may be conveyed to a very considerable distance, which, but for such an instrument, it could not, under opposing circumstances (such as when the captain gives his orders to his crew on board ship in a gale of wind), possibly have reached. In this way even whispers may be rendered audible at a long distance, as in the case of the common india-rubber speaking-tube, so familiar to us in our counting- houses and offices. Since the last edition of these Lectures was published, a marvellous advance has been made in our acquaintance with and command over the phenomena of sound, by the inventions of the telephone, the phonograph, and the microphone. A few short years ago and it would almost have seemed like some of the fairy gifts in the “Arabian Nights,” had we been told that articulate speech would ere long be transmitted from a speaker to a hearer a hundred miles away, and heard distinctly ; that speech itself should be registered and reproduced at will ; and perhaps, most wonderful of all, that feeble sounds, so feeble indeed as to be absolutely inaudible to the human ear, should be so magnified as to be heard with an intensity and power almost painful miles away ; and yet such are the marvels accomplished by the telephone (invented by Mr. Graham Bell), the phonograph (which we owe to Mr. Edison of New Jersey, in the United States, who has still further developed the powers of the telephone), and the microphone (for which we are indebted to Professor D. E. Hughes of London). An excellent account of these wonderful triumphs of science, revised by Professor Huxley, will be found in the number of the “Nineteenth Century ” for June 1878. Another singular instrument for making visible the changes of figure produced by sound, called the phoneidoscope, has also quite recently been invented by Mr. Sedley Taylor. Lect. VII.] ON ELOCUTION. 95 In the phonograph and in the telephone, a thin metal disk is thrown into a state of vibration by the human voice. In order to make such vibrations visible, Mr. Sedley Taylor takes advantage of the extreme tenuity of a film of soap, like that of a soap-bubble. This forms a resonant medium of great delicacy, which strikingly exhibits to the eye the agitation which it suffers when in the neighbourhood of a sounding body. The phoneidoscope consists of a cylindrical brass tube, of L-shape, having one of its limbs horizontal and the other vertical. The horizontal limb is furnished with a caoutchouc tube, which terminates in a wooden mouthpiece. The open end of the vertical limb is surmounted by a brass ring which supports a blackened brass disk pierced with an aperture, which varies in size and shape in different disks. This aperture is covered with a film .of viscous soap-solution, which soon becomes sufficiently thin to reflect the well-known iridescent colours which confer such beauty upon a common soap-bubble. On singing near the mouth- piece, the air in the tube is thrown into a state of vibration, and this motion is immediately taken up by the soap-film. The rainbow-tinted bands of colour share in the movement, and arrange themselves in definite forms. Regular curved bands may be seen to alternate with eddies of colour which rapidly revolve around fixed centres. An endless- variety of patterns may thus be obtained, and as the film grows thinner and thinner the colours often become extremely gorgeous. The shape and size of the film exert considerable influence on the character of the colour-figures, as may be seen by using disks with apertures of different forms and magnitude. Change of pitch produces remarkable changes in the reflected figures ; and it may generally be noted that the com- plexity of the coloured pattern increases with the acuteness of the sound. Differences of ti7?ibre^ or quality, also has its effects upon these phenomena, as is well seen by sounding the same note on different instruments, and marking the corresponding changes in the colour- figures. It appears, however, that variations in intensity or loudness of sound, though not without effect on the rate of motion of the figures, do not produce decided changes of pattern. In Chladni’s experiments, the sonorous vibrations of a plate of glass or metal are rendered visible by means of sand lightly strewn over the surface of the sounding body. In the phoneidoscope a medium of exquisite delicacy is substituted for the glass or metal ; and the inter- foliated colours displayed by this gossamer give an entirely novel and beautiful effect to the experiment. Another wonderful instrument has also recently been invented by Mr. Rhodes, called the audiphone, by which sounds may be heard even by those persons who are quite deaf to them if attempted to be con- veyed by the external ear. The “ Philadelphia Ledger ” gives an interesting account of a public experiment with this remarkable invention upon deaf mutes at an asylum in that city. The audiphones exhibited were of two kinds. The conversational audiphone is fan-like and made entirely of hard rubber. The fan itself is a very thin plate of rubber about eight inches 96 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIL square. A silk cord is attached to the plate near its upper edge, and passing down through the handle where it is held by a clutch, is used to bend the plate over. Having been bent over, the convex side of the plate is held towards the source of sound, while the upper edge is pressed against the edge or end of one or more of the upper teeth, the eye-teeth generally giving the best results. The vibrations of the upper edge of the disks caused by sounds impart the sound-waves to the teeth, and through the auditory nerve to the brain. The “ opera audiphone,” for use at lectures, concerts, &c., is similar to the other, except that it has two plates or disks, which, on being bent down, describe two different curves, so that they are an inch or more apart in the centre, whilst the edges of both disks are pressed against the teeth. By the use of this a deaf mute can hear the sound of his own voice. Mr. Rhodes, the inventor, explained that in trying experiments in many asylums he had found that where the conditions were the same the results were the same — with good brains, good auditory nerves, and good teeth, the deaf mutes could hear well. Where, however, any of these conditions were absent, the hearing would be imperfect. Where people have been totally deaf and, as a consequence, are mutes, the audiphone may be efficient in conveying sound, but cannot make them understand. It is, however, very useful in educating them. The general result of the experiment on the occasion in question was satisfactory, the audiphone being certainly capable of improving the hearing of some of the deaf mutes. A little practice is sometimes needed to enable the deaf person to hear distinctly, and bad teeth or loosely-fitted false ones are an impediment to the transmission of sound-waves through them. Now, with regard to the pitch, tone, or note, in the musical scale, whether of the human voice as produced by the vocal cords, or of the string of the harp, or any other instrument that depends entirely upon the number of vibrations or sound-waves that take place in a second of time, the less frequent the vibrations of a sounding-body, the graver or lower in the scale will be the sound produced, and the more frequent the vibrations, the higher or more acute will be the sound that is heard. The lower or graver the sound, the longer in extent is each of the sound- waves produced by the vibrations ; and the higher and more acute, the shorter is each wave. “ It has been generally assumed,” says Dr. Hunt, “ that the lowest or gravest sound which the human ear is capable of perceiving is formed of thirty-two vibrations in a second.” M. Savart, on the other hand, from numerous experiments, has come to the conclusion that the perceptive power of man in relation to musical sounds, extends from only seven vibrations in a second, to the enormous number of twenty-four thousand vibrations in a second. Dr. Wollaston considered that the power of the human ear to perceive sounds in regard to rapid vibrations, extended but a very few notes above the sound produced by the field cricket. He states that he had known several persons whose hearing was considered generally good, but who had never been able to hear the chirping of the common house cricket ; whence he concluded that the faculty of hearing certain notes did not depend so much upon the intensity of the sound as upon the Lect. VII. 1 ON ELOCUTION. 97 pitch or number of vibrations in a second. It is asserted that the chirp of the long-eared bat is the most acute sound produced by any animal, and that on the average in a company of six persons, there will be found one who cannot distinguish the sound. The timbre, quality, expression, or clang, depends on the nature of the vibrating body, whether it be the vocal cords of the human larynx, or the strings of the harp, or the tube of the trumpet, or any other kind of musical instrument. By the term is understood a certain peculiarity which enables us to discriminate the individual voices of two speakers or singers, or two similar notes in the scale produced by two different instruments of the same description, such as the piano or violin. A distinguishable sound composed of precisely double the number of vibrations is termed its octave, and the intermediate seven sounds form the diatonic scale or gamut, as it is usually termed in music. AVhat constitutes the difference between musical sounds and those sounds which we call mere noises ? This — that musical sound is the result of periodic, isochronous, or equal-toned vibrations of the atmo- sphere, i.e., vibrations following one another at an appreciable pace or rate. Sounds of which the vibrations are irregular in their succession, and the pace of which is therefore inappreciable, are mere noises. Though instances are to be met with of persons wholly insensible to the beauty of musical sounds, whether of the human voice or of some instrument of music, and who cannot even distinguish between one air or tune and another (Dr. Johnson, the great lexicographer, was one to whom all music, however excellent, sounded as mere noise), yet still, for the enjoyment of mankind, such instances are comparatively rare ; and to most ears musical sounds are much more agreeable than unmusical. Music is undoubtedly preferable, and by the world in general is preferred to mere noise. But musical sounds have the advantage not only from the pleasure they afford the ear and mind, but isochronous vibrations, which I have said from that very fact constitute musical sounds, are far more extensive in their range than others, and are audible and appreciable at far greater distances. As Professor Hullah says in familiar language, • music “travels farther” than noise, and this is equally true of the music of speech, as of the music of song or any other kind of music. The recognition of this unquestionable fact can be traced up to the earliest dawn of oratory. You may perceive its truth when you listen to the oldest and simplest form of ecclesiastical chant, or even in the nature-prompted utterance of some street criers. If you have been in Paris in the autumn and listened, as I often have, to the peculiar musical cry of “ Pommes de Chartreux,” or in Edinburgh at the herring season, and heard the Newhaven “fishwives” call out their “caller herring and cod” (an illustration quoted by Professor Hullah, with the exact notes in the musical scale given to each syllable), I think you must have been struck, as I have often been, with the enormous distances, compara- tively, to which not merely the sounds but the words conveyed by them reached the ear.* * A most able and interesting article appeared in the “ Westminster Review ” G o8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. I am entering into all these details for the purpose of gradually lead- ing you on, and preparing you, I hope, to understand more easily the important subject on which I shall enter in my next Lecture — viz., the Inflections of the Voice ; and now, for the rest of my remarks this even- ing, I must once for all express my great obligations to Professor Hullah for the illustrations he has given, and views he has advanced in his excellent book so recently published, in support of those theories and principles which I have endeavoured every session for nearly twenty years to impress upon the minds of all the students who have attended my classes in this College ; and I gladly avail myself of his high authority to confirm now what I have always maintained and advocated. “The first person” (says Professor Hullah) “who ever attempted to address a very large assembly must have discovered, by the time he had uttered a dozen words, that if what he had to say was to be made not only audible but intelligible to any but those immediately about him, his utterance must be partially musical ; and that the more numerous his audience, and the larger his auditorium^ the more musical must that utterance be. If it is true, then, which few will be found to dispute, that musical is more agreeable than any other kind of sound ; and (which may not be at first equally obvious, but is equally true) that musical is audible over a greater area than any other kind of sound, — it would seem desirable to introduce as much as possible of it into our utterance, whether it be addressed to few or to many, in small places or in large. Indeed, universal assent to this might seem to be implied in the epithet, more than any other, by which a pleasing voice is char- acterised. The epithets strongs clear ^ sweet (figurative all three), are no doubt familiar to us in connection with voices ; as are their opposites, feeble, husky, and harsh. But, by universal consent, the highest tribute to the excellence of. a voice is conveyed in the word musical, not used figuratively or analogically, but simply and directly. By a musical voice is always meant a voice, the very sound of which gives pleasure, although irrespective of, or (it may be safer to say) over and above the sense conveyed by it.” It would seem that the sweetness and power of vocal utterance are greater or less as they are more or less musical ; and, to advance another step, that words spoken fall more or less pleasantly upon the ear, and also spread themselves over a larger area, as they approximate to, or partake of, the character of words su7ig. Yet the two acts of speaking and singing are different acts notwithstanding ; they have their different uses and their different occasions of use — occasions when it would be most inconvenient and impertinent to exchange them. And unless we keep this in mind we may injure both ; rob song of its special charm and make speech ridiculous. How is speech to be made more musical without being turned into song? We shall be able to answer this question more confidently by and by. As a good preliminary for October 1875, on Helmholtz’s work, the “ Sensations of Tone as a Physiological Basis for the Theory of Music,” and Professor Tyndall’s Lectures on Sound delivered at the Royal Institution. Lect. VII.] ON ELOCUTION. 99 foundation for what I shall enter upon fully in my next Lecture, let us ascertain what are the 'particulars in which speech and song essentially differ from, as well as resemble, each other. In speech, then, the voice glides up and down what, by an allowable figure, may be called an inclined plane ; in song it makes steps, the proportion of which to one another are ascertained. Speech is for the most part heard only during the passage of the voice from one sound to another : it is the result of intervals ; in song intervals are traversed silently, and the voice is heard only on sounds — the terms or boundaries of intervals. The variations of the inflections of the voice in speech may be compared to the effect produced by sliding the finger up and down the vibrating string, such as that of the violin Avhen it is being played on ; those in song to that produced by “ stop- ping” such a string at certain points and at no others. In brief, speech consists almost exclusively (for we do not often make use of the stac- cato in delivery) of concrete sounds ; song almost exclusively of discrete sounds. But as the differences between speech and song are great, so also are their resemblances. True speech consists of concrete, and song of discrete sounds ; but sounds are sounds, whether concrete or discrete. Moreover, in speech and in song they are produced by the same instrument — the voice ; and though in a somewhat different manner, yet by the same mechanism, and governed by the same laws ; similar varieties of pitch, intensity, and even timbre resulting from its action on both, only resulting more frequently and rapidly in the music of speech than in the music of song ; and when all those elements which form the music of speech are developed and cultivated by judicious instruction, based upon sound and scientific principles on the part of the teacher, and regular and careful practice on the part of the pupil, the process by which those elements are brought to their highest attainable perfection is that which I understand by what is called the “ Art of Elocution.” An excellent translation of Helmholtz’s work, the “Sensations of Tone as a Physiological Basis for the Theory of Music,” by Mr. A. G. Ellis, has recently been published by Messrs. Longmans, which is well worthy of being read by the student who feels an interest in further investigating the subject. The question of the composition and length of waves of sound is fully discussed in the second chapter. As an analogy, the various simultaneous waves produced on water are exemplified, and we are told that we must imagine the same kind of action taking place in the air. In a crowded ball-room, for instance, we have the various sounds of the musical instruments, the rustling of dresses, the voices of men and women, and so on; and here “we have to imagine that from the mouths of men, and from the deeper musical instruments, there proceeds waves of from eight to twelve feet in length ; from the lips of the women, waves of two to four feet in length ; from the rustling of the dresses a fine, small crumple of wave, and so on ; in short, a tumbled entangle- ment of the most different kinds of motion, complicated beyond con- ception.” See review of Mr. Ellis’s translation of Helmholtz’s work in the “ Quarterly Journal of Science” for October 1875. KING 'S COLLE GE EEC TURES ON ELOC UTION. [Lect. VII. lOO I must, ere I close this Lecture, revert once more to the subjects of the transmission of voice and speech by the telephone, and their reproduction by the phonograph, in consequence of certain facts and discoveries regarding them having only just now been com- municated to me, and which I state on the authority of the Comte du Moncel, Member of the French Institute. The first experiment, although easily performed, has only been suggested a few months ago by a Pennsylvanian newspaper. It consists in the transmission of speech by a telephone simply laid on some part of the human body adjacent to the chest. It has been asserted that any part of the body will produce this effect ; but, according to Comte du Moncel’s experience, he could only succeed when the telephone was firmly applied to his chest. Under such conditions, and even through his clothes, he could make himself heard when speaking in a very loud voice ; from which it appears that the whole of the human body takes part in the vibrations produced by the voice. In this case the vibrations are mechanically transmitted to the diaphragm of the sending telephone, not by the air, but by the body itself acting on the outside of the telephone. Speaking of the phonograph, Comte du Moncel says : — “ That as the height of the notes of the musical scale depends on the number of vibrations effected by a vibrating substance in a given time, speaking will be reproduced in a tone of which the pitch will depend on the velocity of rotation given to the cylinder on which the tinfoil is wound. If the velocity is the same as that which was used in registration, the tone of the words reproduced is the same as that in which they were uttered. If the velocity is greater, the tone is higher ; if less, the tone is lower; but the accent of the speaker may always be recognised. Owing to this peculiarity, the reproduction of songs is nearly always defective in instruments turned by the hand ; they sing out of tune. This is not the case when the instrument is moved by a well-regulated sys'^^em of clockwork, and in this way a satisfactory reproduction of a dvict has been obtained. “ The phonograph is still in its infancy, and it is probable that it may soon be enabled to register speech without the necessity of speaking into a mouthpiece. According to the newspapers, Mr. Edison has already discovered a way of collecting, without the aid of an acoustic tube, the sounds uttered at a distance of three or four feet from the instrument, and of printing them on a metallic sheet. From this there is only a step to the power of inscribing a speech uttered in a large hall at any distance from the phonograph ; and if this step is taken, phonography may be substituted with advantage for shorthand.” LECTURE VIII. Theory of the Inflections of the Human Voice — Practical illustration — Inflections of the Voice as a means of expression natural to man — Remarks of the Abbe Thibout, Mr. Darwin, Mr. Herbert Spencer, and Mr. Litchfield — The first attempt to reduce the inflection of the Voice to a System of Notation made by Joshua Steele in 1775 in his “ Prosodia Rationalis,” David Garrick and Steele — The use of the Inflections known to the Greek and Roman Orators — Quotation from Quintilian — Walker’s views in regard to the two Primary Inflections — Great importance of a knowledge of the chief principles that govern the Inflections in regard to Elocution. N this Lecture I have to enter fully upon what I think a most interesting branch of our subject, viz., the inflections of the human voice. What these are, and in what they differ from the music of song, I endeavoured to explain in the concluding part of my last Lecture. But to make the matter clearer, let me take this personal and practical illustration : — I assume that one of you is a man of quick intelligence and good powers of imagination — one who can enter vividly into the feelings, passions, and emotions contained in a fine poem or drama. I assume, too, that he has become well skilled in that all-important point, the right mode of managing the breath in inspiration, and its right control in expira- tion when reading aloud or speaking in public ; so that all his clauses and sentences can flow on smoothly, and without any failure as regards purity of tone and power, and that he well observes the laws of the prosody of our language, that the vowels which are long are properly sustained and finished after they have been truly formed, while there is no undue prolongation of the vowels which are short, and that all the consonants of his words are clearly articulated — On these assumptions, what shall we have? We shall have, at all events, a clear and audible voice and a distinct pronunciation. But I assume that his acquaintance with the art of Elocution has not gone beyond this — so for the effect of anything he has to deliver, he must depend upon the guidance of his own taste, feelings, and discretion. All these let us take to be good, that he is free from any affectation or mannerism, and is a man gifted by nature with a strong dramatic power in the true and high sense of the word, that is, the power of truly conceiving to himself, and then conveying to 102 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. Others, the various passions and emotions of humanity — I ask such a man to read to me a scene from Shakespeare — one where the characters introduced speak under the control of strongly contrasted passions and emotions — for instance, the scene between Hubert and the young Prince Arthur in King John (act iv. scene i). Pie reads the scene to us, and we will take it for granted that he reads it thoroughly well, and at its close we are conscious that he has made us quite feel all the apparent stern- ness, harsh authority, and cruelty of Hubert, until the change takes place in his character which is shown in the last three speeches he has to utter ; and on the other hand, that our reader has made us feel, equally well, all the affection, tenderness, and supplication of the little Prince ” as he pleads for mercy. Now if we have listened attentively to our reader, what shall we have remarked ? This, in the first place — his voice was not upon one note all the time, which may be represented thus by a straight line. But as he read the speeches of Hubert, his voice will have been descending in the musical scale for the most part, which may be represented thus while, as he gave expression to all Arthur’s prayers and supplications, his voice will on the contrary have been rising in the scale, as thus Now these ascents and descents of the voice are what are termed the inflections of the voice ; and as the voice rises or slides upward on a number greater or less of concrete notes in the musical scale (to use Professor Hullah’s expression) it is called a rising inflection : and on the other hand, as the voice in the same manner descends in the musical scale, it is called a falling inflection. These are the two great divisions of the ordinary simple inflections of the voice in speaking or reading. But you do not imagine that all the effect given to the dialogue that I assume to have been read with so much true expression, was gained by the reader employing these two inflections only. No, there were other inflections also often employed of which, in due time, I hope I shall be able to give you a clear explanation. There were also many changes in what is termed the modulation of the voice — there was proper observance of the great physiological law of poise, besides due judgment in discrimination shown in the degrees of emphasis that are given to what are called the rhetorical words in each sentence ; and also other elements of expression, all of which we shall sufficiently discuss and explain as we proceed in our course of Lectures. But for the present I wish to confine your attention — (i) to the subject of inflections generally, and (2) to these two classes of inflections in particular. I contend that in all emotional speech there is an increased prolon- gation of the vowels, especially noticeable when they are long in point of quantity in the principal words of the sentence in which they occur, and this is produced quite automatically under the influence of the Lkct. VIIL] ON ELOCUTION. 103 dominant emotion. The same thing takes place in the case of the great actor when he embodies the emotion in the language uttered by him in the character he is personating on the stage ; but with him it is the result of studying the mode in which the language of emotion is spoken by those who really feel it ; or else by stimulating his imaginative faculty sufficiently to enable him to fully realise the emotion for the time, and as it were project his mind into, and for the period in which He struts and frets his hour upon the stage,” seem to become the character he is representing. But whether the cause be actual feeling, or close study and observation, or vivid imagi- nation, the result will be the same. Just in the same manner as voice can only be heard on vowels in the discrete notes of the music of song ; so it is only upon vowels, the voice can sustain the concrete notes that form the simple rising and falling, or the compound or circumflex inflections in the music of speech, and nature demands a sufficient prolongation of these vowels in order to produce vocal waves of sufficient duration on which she can as it were play, and have material enough to render her inflections fully perceptible ; for without these inflections she cannot render her emotions communicable in spoken language from one human being to another. How true this is may be shown by the following simple illustration. I take just one brief speech from Shakespeare’s play of “ Measure for Measure,” and I read it first of all with what are termed wide ranges of the rising inflections — and those inflections pitched in a comparatively high key ; — “ Go to your bosom ; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That’s like my brother’s fault. If it confess A natural guiltiness, such as is his. Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother’s life.” Read in this way, I think it will be admitted it conveys an earnest, pathetic appeal. Let it be read now a second time, but with what are termed emphatic falling inflections, and pitched in a low key, as thus : — “ Go to your bosom ; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That’s like my brother’s fault. If it confess, A natural guiltiness, such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother’s life.” Thus read, it will be perceived the impression made on the hearer is wholly different, and though the words are still the same, they convey to the mind, through the different impression made by these vocal waves upon the ear, the idea of a stern command, instead of an earnest appeal Let the same passage be now read a third time, in one unvarying key and without any inflection at all, as thus : — Go to your bosotn ; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know lOd KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. Thafs like my brother’s faidt. If it confess A natural gniltiness, such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother’s life.’’ Thus read, without any change in regard to modulation and without any variation in inflection, it becomes almost meaningless, and conveys no emotion whatever. Now, what is it that causes such different feelings to be conveyed to the mind, as the passage is read in these three different ways ? Why, this — As read the first time, the voice is in every clause rising in the musical scale ; as read the second time, the voice is descending in the musical scale ; and as read the third time, the voice is little, more than a mere succession of monotones. It seems to me that in the expression of these various passions and emotions through the medium of the human voice, that there may be traced a general prevailing law of antithesis — /. 1 Com - ment ! — 1 — — « — tu t* 0 - ses . !• ve - nir 1 i - ci, la - che de - ser - teur de la mi - li - ce sainte ! Exemple d’Admiration Interrogative. ^ I . . tr ^ ■ E — Ji — F— E — E i Com - ment est mort cet horn - me puis - sant qui sau - vait le peu - pie d’ls - ra - el? In concluding this Lecture on the Theory of the Inflections of the Voice, I may remark, as a preface to my next Lecture on the principles that govern their practical application in reading and speaking, that three degrees are commonly assigned to each of the classes of inflection ; and ii8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIIL no doubt such a classification is very useful for practice, but while the principle of the application of each class of inflection is easily and clearly defined and well understood, yet the degrees of each class must be left much to the individual taste and judgment of each reader and speaker, and many more than three degrees of each inflection are certainly to be heard in a well-trained and cultivated voice. As a rule, you will always remark that the more powerful the emotion or passion under which a man speaks, the wider is the range which the voice takes in the rising or falling inflection, according as -the particular emotion or passion is one that nature always makes us convey either by one or the other, as, for instance, supplication by a rising, and stern denial by a falling inflection. A few excellent remarks on “time” in delivery may not inappropri- ately be introduced here. They are those of the late Mr. George Henry Lewes, and will be found in a very interesting work published five years ago (Smith, Elder, & Co., 1875), entitled, “On Actors and Acting.” He says (p. 194) : “The great difficulty in Elocution is to be slow, and not to seefn slow. To speak the phrases with such distinctness, and such management of the breath, that each shall tell, yet due proportion be maintained. Hurry destroys the effect ; and actors hurry because they dread, and justly dread, the heaviness of a slow utterance. The art is so to manage the time that it shall not appear slow to the hearer ; and this is an art very rarely understood by actors. No sooner have they to express excitement or emotion of any kind, than they seem to lose all mastery over the rhythm and cadence of their speech. Let them study great speakers, and they will find that, in passages which seem rapid, there is a measured rhythm, and that, even in the whirlwind of passion, there is as strict regard to ‘ tempo ’ as in passionate music. Resistant flexibility is the perfection of elocution.” Sanson, the excellent Professor of Elocution, tells us how — “ D’un mot plaisant, terrible, oil tendre ; On double la valeur en le faisant attendre,” a point well understood by the elder Kean, who, however, allowed his pauses to degenerate into tricks. Sanson adds — “ Tantot I’agile voix se precipite et vole, Tantot il faut savoir ralentir sa parole. Ignorant de son art, les plus vulgaires lois Plus d’un acteur se laisse entrainer par sa voix ; Sa rapide parole etourdit I’auditoire ; II semble concourir pour un prix de memoire.” Again, at p. 209 of the same work, Mr. G. H. Lewes, speaking of the Drama in Germany, says : “Be the reasons what they may, the result is that, always in a German Hof Theater, one is sure of the very best ensemble that the company can present ; and one will often receive as much pleasure from the performance of quite insignificant parts as from Lect. VIII.] ON ELOCUTION. IE9 the leading parts on other stages. The actors are thoroughly trained ; they know the principles of their art — a very different thing from know- ing ‘the business.’ They pay laudable attention to one supremely important point, recklessly disregarded on our stage — namely, Elocu- tion. They know how to speak — both prose and verse ; to speak with- out mouthing, yet with effective cadence; speech elevated above the tone of conversation, yet without being stilted. How many actors are there on our stage who have learned this ? How many are there who suspect the mysterious charm which lies in rhythm and have mas- tered its music ? How many are there who, with an art which is not apparent, except to the very critical ear, can manage the cadences and emphases of prose, so as to be at once perfectly easy, natural, yet incisive and effective ? ” LECTURE IX. The Rising Inflection of the Voice — Principles that govern its application in regard to the Logical expression of Clauses and Sentences : (i) Where the meaning is as yet Incomplete; (2) Where Clauses or Sentences are Negative in Construction; (3) To connect Kindred Thoughts together; (4) Where Clauses or Sentences are Contingent ; (5) Interrogative Sentences that can be answered by a simple Affirma- tive or Negative — Principles that govern the Rising Inflection in regard to Emotional Expression : (i) Where Sentences convey Appeal of any kind ; (2) Where Sentences are in the nature of Supplication or Prayer ; (3) Where Sentences express Love, Joy, Hope, &c. ; (4) Where Sentences express Wonder, Amazement, or Surprise; (5) Where Sentences are of an Exclamatory Character. N this and the following Lectures, I hope to make you acquainted with the principal rules for the employment of the different classes of the inflections of the voice. It seems to me that each class has a twofold use, first as regards the expression of the logical meaning of a sentence, and next as regards the expression of the e^notions. The same remark, too, may be made in regard to the modulation of the voice. Let us, then, take in succession the rising, the falling, and the circumflex inflec- tions, and see what are the broad and general principles which govern each.* And, first, as regards the logical uses of the rising inflections, I should give this direction, as : Rule I. — So long as the meaning of a clause or sentence is incom- plete or kept suspended, the rising inflection is to be used. Illustrations for Practice. I. Whatever of life all quickening e'ther keeps. Or breathes through air, or shoots beneath the deeps, Or pours profuse on earth ; one nature feeds The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds. * The first illustration of each rule is alone marked with the signs of the inflection of the voice, as it is most desirable that the student should read from a knowledge of the principles on which the rule is based, and not merely mechanically, because certain marks are placed on certain words. I2I Lect. IX.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 2 . Who noble ends by noble means obtains, Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains. Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. 3. ’Twas said, by ancient sages. That love of life increas’d with years So much, that, in our later stages. When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages. The greatest love of life appears. 4. Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man’s erring judgment and misguide the mind. What the weak head with strongest bias rules. Is Pride. 5. Who builds his hope in th’ air of men’s fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast. Ready, with every nod, to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 6. A soul immortal spending all her fires. Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness. Thrown into tumult, raptur’d or alarm’d At aught this scene can threaten or indulge. Resembles ocean into tempest wrought To waft a feather or to drown a fly. 7. Lo ! when the faithful pencil has design’d Some bright idea of the master’s mind. Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready nature waits upon his hand ; When the ripe colours soften and unite, And sweetly melt into just shade and light; When mellowing years their full perfection give And each bold figure just begins to live : The treacherous colours the fair art betray. And all the bright creation fades away. 8. Of systems possible, if ’tis confess’d That wisdom infinite must form the best. Where all must fall, or not coherent be. And all that rises, rise in due degree ; Then in the scale of life and sense, ’tis plain There must be, somewhere, such a rank as man. 9. When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest’s din. And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within ; 122 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit ; When the chestnuts glow in the embers. And the kid turns on the spit ; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close ; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows ; When the goodman mends his armour, And trims his helmet’s plume ; W^hen the good wife’s shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the room ; With weeping and with laughter. Still is the story told. How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. 10. The horrid crags by toppling convent crown’d, The cork-tree’s hoar that clothe the shaggy steep, The mountain moss by scorching skies embrown’d, The sunken glen whose sunless shrubs must weep, The tender azure of the unruffled deep, The orange tints that gild the greenest bough, The torrents that from cliff to valley leap, The vine on high, the willow-branch below. Mixed in one mighty scene with varied beauty glow. 1 1. Though he who excels in the graces of writing might have been, with opportunities and application, equally successful in those of conver- sation ; yet, as many please by extemporary talk, though utterly unac- quainted with the more accurate method, and more laboured beauties, which composition requires, so is it very possible that men wholly accus- tomed to works of study, may be without that readiness of conception, and affluence of language, always necessary to colloquial entertainment. 12. Man’s study of himself, and the knowledge of his own station in the ranks of being, and his various relations to the innumerable multi- tudes which surround him, and with which his Maker has ordained him to be united for the reception and communication of happiness, should begin with the first glimpse of reason, and only end with life itself. Rule II. — All clauses or sentences that are negative in structure take the rising inflection. Illustrations for Practice. I. I.et not my cold words here accuse my z^al, ’Tis not the trial of a woman’s wdr, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues. Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 123 And can I not of such tdme patience boast, As to be husht and naught at all to say. 2. Not all the water in the rough, rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king : The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord. 3. ’Tis not enough — No ! Vengeance cannot take away the grace of life : The comeliness of look that virtue gives, Its port erect with consciousness of truth, Its rich attire of honourable deeds, Its fair report that’s rife on good men’s tongues It cannot lay its hands on these, no more Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun. Or with polluted finger tarnish it. 4. I doubt not that. We carry not a heart with us from hence. That grows not in a fair consent with ours Nor leave one behind, that doth not wish Success and conquest to attend on us. 5. Never was monarch better feared and loved Than is your majesty : there’s not a subject That sits in heart-grief or uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government. 6. ’Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl. The farced title running ’fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp. That beats upon the high shore of the world ; No, not all these thrice gorgeous ceremonies. Not all these laid in bed majestical Can sleep so soundly as that wretched slave Who, whh a body filled, and vacant mind. Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread. j. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. Who else must be let blood, who else is rank ; in myself, there is no hour so fit As Caesar’s death-hour ; nor no instrument Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich With the most noble blood of all this world. Live a thousand years, I shall not find myself so apt to die : No place will please me so, no means of death As here by Caesar, and by you cut off. 124 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 8. “ No, no,” said Enid, vext, “ I will not eat, Till yonder man upon the bier arise And eat with me. ... I will not drink Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it, And drink with me ; and if he rise no more I will not look at wine until I die.” 9. I did not mean to gall your pride. No leader of our host in sounds more lofty Talks of glorious war. Speak not thus. Let not our variance mar the social hour, Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph. Nor frowning anger, not yet wrinkled hate, Shall stain my countenance. 10. Not high-raised battlement. Nor laboured mound. Thick wall, nor moated gate ; Not cities proud, nor spires, Nor turrets crowned. Nor bays, nor broad arm’d ports; Not stars, nor spangled courts, — These do not form a State. 11. Great and acknowledged force is not impaired, either in effect or in opinion, by an unwillingness to exert itself. . . . Do not entertain so weak an imagination as that your registers and your bonds, your affidavits and your sufferances, your dockets and your clearances, form the great securities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the things that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious whole. These things do not make your government. 1 2. The peace we seek is not peace through the medium of war ; not peace to be hunted through the labyrinth of intricate and endless negotiations ; not peace to arise out of universal discord, fomented from principle in all parts of the empire ; not peace to depend on the juridical determination of perplexing questions, nor the precise marking of the shadowy boundaries of a complex government. Rule III. — It not unfrequently happens that a clause or sentence containing a complete logical proposition, which, if it stood alone, would properly end with the falling inflection, is yet followed by another clause or sentence carrying on a similar or approximating train of thought. Ending the first clause or sentence with a rising inflection, will have the requisite conjunctive effect of linking the two thoughts together. Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 125 Illustrations for Practice. 1. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creep, in this petty pace, from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusky death. 2. Oh ! who can hold a fire in his hand. By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ; Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast ; Or wallow naked in December’s snow. By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat ? 3. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds ; Save where the beetle wheels its drony flight. And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower. The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 4. Admit me. Mirth, to live with thee In unreproved pleasures free ; To hear the lark begin his flight. And, singing, startle the dull night From his watchtower in the skies Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; Then to come, in spite of sorrow. And at my window, bid good morrow, Through the sweetbrier or the vine, Or the twistled eglantine : While the cock, with lively din. Scatters the rear of darkness thin. And to the stack, or the barn-door. Stoutly struts his dames before ; Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn From the side of some hoar hill Through the high wood echoing shrill. 5. The poet’s eye, in a fine phrenzy rolling. Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; And as imagination bodies forth The form of things unknown, the poet’s pen Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. 126 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 6. The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; And, like the baseless fabric of a vision. Leave not a rack behind. 7. Beauty is but a vain, a fleeting good, A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly ; A flower that dies when almost in the bud, A brittle glass that breaketh presently ; A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower. Lost, faded, broken, dead, within an hour. 8. Proclaim it, Westmoreland, throughout my host. That he who hath no stomach for this flght. May straight depart ; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse : We would not die in that man’s company. This day is called the feast of Crispian : He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named. And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that outlives this day and sees old age. Will yearly, on the vigil, feast his neighbours. And say. To-morrow is Saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars. Old men forget ; yet shall not all forget. But they’ll remember, with advantages. What feats they did that day. 9. Then shall our names, Familiar in their mouths as household words, — Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — ■ Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered : This story shall the good man tell his sons ; And Crispian’s day shall ne’er go by. From this time to the ending of the world. But we in it shall be remembered. 10. The temperate man’s pleasures are durable, because they are regular ; and all his life is calm and serene, because it is innocent. 1 1. He that is truly polite, knows how to contradict with respect, and to please without adulation ; and is equally remote from an insipid com- plaisance and a low familiarity. 12. No object is more pleasing to the eye than the sight of a man whom you have obliged ; nor any music so agreeable to the ear as the voice of one that owns you for his benefactor. Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. ^ 127 13. There is scarcely a thinking man in the world who is involved in the business of it, but lives under a secret impatience of the hurry and fatigue he suffers, and has formed a resolution to fix himself, one time or other, in such a state as is suitable to the end of his being. Rule IV. — Clauses or sentences that express doubts or contingency take the rising inflection. lllusti'ations for Practice. 1. If that the face of men, The sufferance of our souls, the time’s abuse. If these be motives weak, break off betimes. But if these (As I am sure they do) bear fire enough To kindle cowards and to steel with valour The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, What need we any spur but our 6wn cause ? 2. It is doubtful yet, If Caesar will come forth to-day or no. It may be these apparent prodigies. The unaccustomed terror of this night, And the persuasion of his augurers, May hold him from the capitol to-day. 3. If that thy valour stand on sympathies. There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness. 4. If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, I would not draw them : I would have my bond 5. If thou tak’st more Or less than a just pound, be’t but so much As makes it light or heavy in the substance. Or the division of the twentieth part Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale turn But in the estimation of a hair. Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 6. If it be proved against an alien. That by direct or indirect attempts He seek the life of any citizen. The party ’gainst the which he doth contrive Shall seize on half his goods. 128 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 7. If I am traduced by tongues which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chroniclers of my doing, let me say, ’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. 8. If in the course And process of this time, you can report. And prove it too, against mine honour aught, My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty Against your sacred person : in God’s name Turn me away. — 9. If thou hast any sound or use of voice, Speak to me : If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease, and grace to me, Speak to me : If thou art privy to thy country’s fate. Which, happily, fore-knowing may avoid — Oh, speak ! Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life. Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, Speak of it : stay and speak. 10. If they shall chance, In charging you with matters, to commit you, The best persuasions to the contrary. Fail not to use, and with what vehemency The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties AVill render you no remedy, this ring Deliver them, and your appeal to us There make before them. 11. Such a man as this that I have described, may reach the bench. He may be a man without passions, and therefore without vices : he may be, my lord, a man superfluously rich, and therefore not to be bribed with money ; such a man, inflated by flattery and bloated in his dignity, may hereafter use that character for sanctity which has served to promote him as a sword to hew down the struggling liberties of his country ; such a judge may interfere before trial, and may at the trial be a partisan. 12. If a cool, determined courage, that no apparently hopeless struggle could lessen or subdue — if a dauntless resolution, that shone the brightest in the midst of the greatest difficulties and dangers — if a heart ever open to the tenderest affections of our nature and the purest plea- sures of social intercourse — if an almost childlike simplicity of character, that, while incapable of craft or dissimulation in itself, yet seemed to Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION 129 have an intuitive power of seeing and defeating the insidious designs and treacheries of others — if characteristics such as these constitute theii possessor a hero, then, I say, foremost in the rank of heroes shines th^ deathless name of Washington ! Rule V. — Sentences that are interrogative in character, and to which a simple affirmative or negative can be returned as an answer, end with the rising inflection. Illustrations for Practice. 1. Old' John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, Hast thou according to thy oath and bond Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, Here to make good the boist’rous late appeal Which then our leisure would not let us hear Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 2. Must I do so, and must I ravel out My weav’d-up follies? Gentle Northumberland, If thy offences were upon record Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop To read a lecture of them? 3. No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper w^ounds ? Was this face the face That every day under his household roof Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ? Is this the face wffiich faced so many follies, And was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke ? 4. Think you a little din can daunt my ears ? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puff’d up with winds. Rage like an angry bear ? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field ? And Heaven’s artillery thunder in the sky ? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud ’larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets’ clang ? And do you tell me of a woman’s tongue ? 5. Shall I cease here ? Is this enough to say That my desire, like all strongest hopes, By its owm energy fulfill’d itself. Merged on completion ? Would you learn at full How passion rose through circumstantial grades Beyond all grades developed ? 130 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTUEES [Lect. IX. 6. Have I lived thus long (let me speak myself Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one ; A woman (I dare say without vain-glory) Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections Still met the King ? lov’d him next Heaven, obey’d him ? Been out of fondness superstitious to him ? Almost forgot my prayers to content him ? And am I thus rewarded ? 7. Have I not made you The prime man of the State ? I pray you tell me. If what I now pronounce, you have found true, And if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us? 8. My Lord of Suffolk, say is this the guise ? Is this the fashion in the Court of England ? Is this the Government of Britain’s isle ? And this the Royalty of Albion’s King ? What ! shall King Henry be a pupil still Under the surly Glos’ter’s governance ? Am I a Queen in title and in style. And must be made a subject to a Duke ? 9. Oh, ever beauteous ! ever friendly ! tell Is it in Heav’n a crime to love too well ? To bear too tender, or too firm a heart. To act a Lover’s or a Roman’s part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think or bravely die? 10. Is this the noble Moor wLom our full senate Call all in all sufficient? — Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance. Could neither graze, nor pierce ? 1 1. Has our Maker furnished us with desires which have no corre- spondent objects, and raised expectations in our breasts with no other view than to disappoint them? Are we to be for ever in search of happiness without arriving at it, either in this world or in the next ? Are we formed with a passionate longing for immortality, and yet destined to perish after this short period of existence ? Are we prompted to the noblest actions, and supported through life under the severest hardships and most trying temptations, by hopes of a rew’ard which is visionary and chimerical? by the expectation of praises which we are never to realise and enjoy ? Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 131 1 2. Can we believe that a thinking being, that is in a perpetual pro- gress of improvement, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of her Creator, and made a few discoveries of His infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her inquiries? Would He, who is infinitely wise, make such glorious creatures for so mean a purpose ? Can He delight in the production of such abortive intelligences, such short-lived reasonable beings? Would He give us talents that are not to be exerted? capacities that are never to be gratified ? Under these foregoing rules, may, I venture to think, be classed the principal uses served by the rising inflections of the voice as regards the elucidation of the logical meaning of sentences. We now come to their emotional uses ; but it is necessary, in considering this branch of our subject, to premise that in emotional expression much depends on the reader or speaker not only using right inflections, but also the appropriate keys of the voice which nature always makes us employ when we are really influenced by our different emotions and are giving utterance to them in articulate language. Professor Tyndall, in one of his celebrated Lectures, spoke lately of the advantages of cultivating the imagination in regard to science. I am sure the advantages are not less when the imagination is cultivated in regard to art, and especially such an art as that of elocution. The poetic or sympathetic temperament that can vividly conceive and realize the various passions, feelings, and emotions expressed by an author, and in the “ mind’s eye ” behold all the scenes and circumstances in which the language of such emotions either really was, or is supposed to have been, uttered, will ever possess the strongest power of influencing the hearts of others ; and nothing will enhance this power so much as the culture of the imagination. I shall have to speak more fully in a subsequent Lecture of the principles which govern the different keys of the voice, or, in other words, its modulation ; so I shall speak only briefly and incidentally of this element of expression in giving you now what seem to me to be the principal rules for the emotional uses of the rising inflections. Rule. I. — When a sentence is in the nature of an appeal, it takes a general rising inflection throughout its delivery, and the key of the voice is usually more or less high in pitch ; but in sad and solemn appeals the pitch of the inflection is always low. lllusiratio7is for Practice. I. Go to your bosom. Knock there and ask yotir heart what it doth know That’s like my brother’s fault. If it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his. Let it riot sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother’s life. 132 KING^S COLLEGE LECTULiES [Lect. IX. 2. My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless Reputation. That away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times barr’d up chest. Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ; Take honour from me and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try In that I live and for that will I die. 3. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my Sovereign’s hand And bow my knee before his Majesty : For Mowbray and myself are like two men, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends. 4. Think upon the time When the clear depths of thy yet lucid soul Were ruffled with the troublings of strange joy. As if some unseen visitant from heaven Touch’d the calm lake and wreath’d its images In sparkling waves ; — recal the dallying hope That on the margin of assurance trembled, As loth to lose in certainty too bless’d Its happy being ; — taste in thought again Of the stolen sweetness of these evening-walks. When pansied turf was air to wingbd feet ; When circling forests, by ethereal touch Enchanted, wore the livery of the sky ; When thy heart. Enlarg’d by its new sympathy with one. Grew bountiful to all ! 5. All good people. You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say. You few that lov’d me. And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying; Go with me, like good angels, to my end ; And as the long divorce of steel falls on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice And lift my soul to Heaven. 6. King Adrastus, Steel’d as thy heart is with the usages Of pomp and power, a few short summers since Thou wert a child, and canst not be relentless. Oh, if maternal love embraced thee then, Think of the mothers who with eyes unwet Lkct. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 133 Glare on their perishing children ; hast thou shared The glow of a first friendship which is born ’Midst the rude sports of childhood, think of youth Smitten amidst its playthings, let the spirit Of thy own innocent childhood whisper pity. 7. Haste to your seats : I will but speak a word With our brave friend, and follow ; though convened In speed, let our assembly lack no forms Of due observance, which to furious power Plead with the silent emphasis of years. 8. Ye eldest Gods, Who in no statues of exactest form Are palpable ; who shun the azure heights Of beautiful Olympus, and the sound Of ever young Apollo’s minstrelsy ; Yet mindful of the empire which ye held Over dim Chaos, keep revengeful wrath On falling nations and on kingly lines About to sink for ever : ye who shed Into the passions of Earth’s giant brood And their fierce usages the sense of justice : WTo clothe the fated battlements of tyranny With blackness as a funeral pall, and breathe Through the proud halls of time'emboldened guilt Portents of ruin, hear me ! 9. Come with those downcast eyes sedate and sweet, Those gentle looks that deeply pierce the soul. Where with the light of thoughtful reason mixed Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart ; Oh, come ! and while the rosy-footed May Steals blushing on, together let us tread The morning dews ; and gather in their prime Fresh blooming flowers to grace thy braided hair, And thy lov’d bosom that improves their sweets. See where the winding vale its lavish stores Irriguous spreads. See how the lily drinks The latent rills, scarce oozing through the grass Of growth luxuriant, or the humid bank In fair profusion decks. Long let us walk Where the breeze blows from yon extended field Of blossoming flowers : Arabia cannot boast A fuller gale of joy than from thence Breathes through the sense and takes the ravish’d souL 10. Maiden, with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orb a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ; 134 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. Thou whose locks outshine the sun. Golden tresses wreathed in one As the braided streamlets run. Standing with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet. Gazing with a timid glance On the brooklet’s swift advance, On the river’s broad expanse. Deep and still that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem As the river of a dream. Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, In thy heart the dew of youth. On thy lips the smile of truth. II. In the name of every generous and honourable feeling— for the sake not merely of those on whose behalf I specially appeal, but for your own sakes, and as you value your own dignity and character, and prize the future independence of your country, come forward, and by one simultaneous exclamation, signify your assent to a measure which will not only have the effect of rescuing the peasantry from ruin, but of rescuing your own character from ignominy and disgrace. Do it in the name of justice, — do it in the name of humanity, — do it in the name of Ireland, — and I trust I do not take His name in vain, when I say — do it in the name of God. 12. “Press on!” Never despair; never be discouraged, however stormy the heavens, however dark the way; however great the diffl- culties, and repeated the failures, “ Press on 1 ” If fortune has played false with thee to-day, do thou play true for thyself to-morrow. If thy riches have taken wings and left thee, do not weep thy life away, but be up and doing, and retrieve the loss by new energies and action. If an unfortunate bargain has deranged thy busi- ness, do not fold thy arms, and give up all as lost ; but stir thyself and work the more vigorously. If those whom thou hast trusted have betrayed thee, do not be dis- couraged, do not idly weep, but “ Press on 1 ” And others ; or, what is better, learn to live within thyself. Let the foolishness of yesterday make thee wise to-day. If thy affections have been poured out like water in the desert, do not sit down and perish of thirst, but “ Press ON ! ” — a beautiful oasis is before thee, and thou mayest reach it if thou wilt. If another has been false to thee, do not thou increase the evil by being false to thyself. Do not say, the world hath lost its poetry and beauty ; ’tis not so : and even if it is so, make thine own poetry and beauty — by a brave, a true, and above all, a religions life. Lect. IX.] Oy ELOCUTION. 135 Rule II.— Sentences that convey supplication or prayer take a general rising inflection throughout their delivery, the key. of the voice varying from a low one, if the prayer is very solemn in character, to one more or less high, if the supplication is simply pathetic in its nature. Illustrations for Practice. 1. Oh, save me, Hubert, sdve me. For heaven’s sake, Hubert, let me not be bound — N^y, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb. Oh spare mine ey^s- — • Though to no use but still to look on you. 2. Oh, upon my knees. Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom Forethought by Heaven. 3. It is not more than midnight now. Have mercy ! Oh, do not grasp me with such violence. Oh, spare me ! sure I have not injur’d thee ; Let me not weep and pray to thee in vain ! 4. Oh, look upon me with an eye of mercy ; And, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee. Listen with mildness to my supplications ! 5. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold. Nor how it may concern my modesty. In such a presence here to plead my thoughts ; But I beseech your Grace that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 6. I pray you tarry ; pause a day or two Before you hazard ; for in choosing wrong I lose your company ; therefore forbear awhile. 7. Oh ! you blessed ministers above. Keep me in patience ; and with ripened time Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up. 8. Oh, I beseech thee. If my obedience and blameless life. If my humility and meek submission In all things hitherto, can move in thee One feeling of compassion ; if thou art Indeed my father, and canst trace in me One look of her who bore me, or one tone 136 AYJVG^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. That doth remind thee of her, let it plead In my behalf, who am a feeble girl — Too feeble to resist; and do not force me To wed that man. 9. Oh ! do not let my loved one die ; But rather wait until the time That I am grown in purity Enough to enter Thy pure clime, Then take me — I will gladly go So that my love remain below. Oh, let her stay, she is by birth — • What I through Death must learn to be ; We need her more on our poor Earth, Than Thou canst need in Heaven with Thee, She hath her wings already ; I Must burst this earth-shell ere I fly. Then, do Thou take me ; we shall be near, More near than ever — each to each ; An angel’s ears will find more clear My heavenly than my earthly speech ; And still as I draw near to Thee, Her soul and mine shall closer be. 10. O Thou, That didst uphold me in my lonely isle, Uphold me. Father, in my loneliness A little longer ; aid me, give me strength Not to tell her, never to let her know ; Help me not to break in upon her peace. My children too — must I not speak to these P They know me not — I should betray myself. Never — no father’s kiss for me — the girl So like her mother — and the boy, my son, — Aid me, give me strength Not to tell her — never to let her know. 11. And now, in conclusion, I pray from the bottom of my heart, that He who is the Author of all mercies to mankind, whose divine providence, I am persuaded, guides and ever superintends the trans- actions of this world, and whose guardian spirit has ever watched over this prosperous island, direct and fortify your judgments ! 12. Yes, I beseech, I entreat you, for the sake of your country, for the sake of your high fame — upon every motive, personal and public — • from every consideration, national and individual — pause before you repudiate the means, the only means, by which the spirit of coercion, now carried into a system, shall be restrained, and by which the country shall be saved from all the suffering, the affliction, and the debasement with which at such times it is attended, and without which there is not Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 137 a glimpse of hope, not a chance the most remote, that the slightest palliative will be applied. Rule III. — All sentences that express Joy, Love, Friendship, Hope, and in general all the more pleasurable and amiable emotions, partake of a rising inflection, and the voice is usually pitched in keys more or less high ; though where great tenderness, pity, or pathos mingles with the affection, the voice is often modulated into a low soft minor key, as it has been termed in elocution. Illustrations for Practice. 1. Sweet child of air. Never did I behold thee so attired And garmented in be'auty as to-night. There’s nothing fair or beautiful but takes Soihething from thee that makes it be'autiful. 2. What you do. Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I’d have you do it ever ; when you sing, I’d have you buy and sell so ; so give alms. Pray so ; and for the ordering of your affairs. To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o’ the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so. And own no other function : each your doing. So singular in each particular. Crowns what you’re doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens. 3. Oh, let me breathe my life Before this ancient sire, who, it should seem. Hath sometime lov’d ; I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as dove’s down, and as white as it, Or Ethiopian’s tooth, or the fann’d snow That’s boulted by the northern blast twice o’er. 4. It is a dream, sweet child, a waking dream, A blissful certainty, a vision bright Of that rare happiness, which even on earth Heaven gives to those it loves. Now thou art rich, As thou wast ever beautiful and good. And I am now the beggar. 5. Oh, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o’er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Upon the white upturn’d wondering eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air. KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 138 6. All the stars of heaven, The deep blue noon of night, lit by an orb Which looks a spirit, or a spirit’s world — The hues of twilight ; the sun’s gorgeous coming-^ His setting indescribable, which fills My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him, Along the western paradise of clouds. The forest shade, the green bough, the bird’s voice — • The vesper bird’s, which seems to sing of love, And mingles with the song of Cherubim, As the day closes over Eden’s walls, — All these are nothing to my eyes and heart. Like Adah’s face ; I turn from earth to heaven To gaze on thee. 7. Ah ! simple heart and sweet, You loved me, damsel, surely with a love Far tenderer than my queen’s. Pray for thy soul I Ay, that will I — Farewell, too, now at last. Farewell, fair lily ! 8. Thy bright image, Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory. And lured me on to those inspiring toils By which man masters men, For thee I grew A midnight student o’er the dreams of sages. For thee I sought to borrow from each Grace And every Muse, such attributes as lend Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee. And Passion taught me Poesy — of thee ; And on the painter’s canvas grew the life Of Beauty. Art became the shadow Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes Men called me vain — some mad — I heeded not ; But still toil’d on, hoped on, for it was sweet If not to win, to feel more worthy thee ! 9 O Annie ! It is beyond all hope, against all chance. That he who left you ten long years ago Should still be living ; well then, let me speak • I grieve to see you poor and wanting help : I cannot help you as I wish to do. Unless — they say that women are so quick — Perhaps you know what I would have you know — I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove A father to your children. I do think They love me as a father — I am sure That I love them, as if they were mine own ; Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 139 And I believe, if you were fast my wife, That after all these sad uncertain years. We still might be as happy as God grants To any of His creatures. Oh think upon it, Annie, for I love you. And I have loved you longer than you know. 10. Hear me, hear me ! Astarte ! my beloved ! speak to me. I have so much endured — so much endure — I know not what I ask — nor what I seek — I feel but what thou art — and what I am ; And I would hear yet once before I perish, The voice which was my music — speak to me ! For I have call’d on thee in the still night. Startled the slumbering birds from the hush’d boughs, And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves Acquainted with thy vainly-echoed name. Which answer’d me — many things answer’d me ; Spirits and men — but thou wert silent all. Yet speak to me — I have outwatch’d the stars. And gazed o’er heaven in vain in search of thee — Speak to me — I have wandered o’er the earth And never found thy likeness. Speak to me — Speak to me, though it be in wrath, but say — I reck not what — but let me hear thee once — This once — once more ! 11. Nay, speak not; my heart has broken its silence, and you shall hear the rest. For you I have endured all the weary bondage of this house ; yes, to see you, hear you, breathe the same air, be ever at hand, that if others slighted, from one at least you might receive the luxury of respect : for this — for this I have lingered, suffered, and forborne. We are orphans both — friendless both ; you are all in the world to me ; turn not away ; my very soul speaks in these words — I love you ! 12, And now, as I close my task, subduing my desire to linger yet, these faces fade away. But one face, shining on me like a heavenly light, by which I see all other objects, is above them and beyond them all. And that remains. I turn my head and see it in its beautiful serenity beside me. My lamp burns low, and I have written far into the night ; but the dear presence without which I were nothing bears me comparxy. O Agnes, O my soul, so may thy face be by me when I close my life indeed ; so may I, when realities are melting from me, like the shadows which I now dismiss, still find thee near me, pointing upward ! Rule IV. — Sentences that express wonder, amazement, or surprise take an extreme degree of the rising inflection, and the voice is usually KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 140 [Lect. IX. pitched in very high keys, unless awe, dread, or terror mingle with the emotion, when keys more or less low in pitch prevail. Ilhcsirations for Practice. 1. Whdt ! Michael Cassio, that came a-w6oing with you, And many a time when I have spoke of you Dispraisingly, hath ta’en yd nr part. To have so much to do, to bring him in ! 2. See ! See ! King Richard doth himself appear, As doth the blushing discontented sun, From out the fiery portal of the East, When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory and to stain the tract Of his bright passage to the Occident. 3. We are amaz’d, and thus long have we stood To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, Because we thought ourself thy lawful king ! And if we be, how dare thy joints forget To pay their awful duty to our presence? 4. Are not you mov’d, when all the sway of earth Shakes like a thing infirm ? O Cicero, I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds Have riv’d the knotty oaks ; and I have seen The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam To be exalted with the threat’ning clouds; But never till to-night — never till now. Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 5. A common slave (you know him well by sight) Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn Like twenty torches joined ; and yet his hand. Not sensible of fire, remained untouched. Besides (I have not since put up my sword). Against the Capitol, I met a lion, Which glar’d upon me, and went surly by, Without annoying me : and there were drawn Upon a heap, a hundred ghastly women. Transformed with their fear ; who swore they saw Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. And yesterday the bird of night did sit. Even at noon-day, upon the marketplace. Hooting and shrieking. 6. Can such things be. And overcome us like a summer cloud. Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to tne disposition that I owe, Lkct. IX.1 ON ELOCUTION § lAl When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine are blanch’d with fear. 7. My gracious lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it : — As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look’d towards Birnam, and anon, methought The wood began to move — Let me endure your wrath if it be not so : Within these three miles may you see it coming — • I say a moving grove. 8. What ! I that kill’d her husband and his father. To take her in her heart’s extremest hate. With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes. The bleeding witness of her hatred by. With God, her conscience, and these bars against me. And I, no friends to back my suit withal But the plain devil, and dissembling looks. And yet to win her ! 9. Oh beautiful ! oh wondrous ! oh divine i A scale had fallen from my sight, A marvellous glory was call’d forth And shone upon the face of Earth. I saw millions of spirits darting To and fro athwart the air — spirits That my magic had never yet discern’d. Spirits of rainbow hues, and quivering With the joy that made their nature. Where’er I cast my gaze, life upon life Was visible, — every blade of grass Swarm’d with myriads, invisible To the common eye, but all performing still. With mimic regularity, the varied courses Of the human race ; every grain of dust, Every drop of water, was a universe Mapped into a thousand tribes, and all Fulfilling the destinies of mortality^ Love, Fear, Hope, Emulation, Avarice, Jealousy, War, Death. 10. But if all around was life, the life Was of enchantment, harmony. And every element of delight. Speech left me for very joy. I gazed, d'hrilled with amazement, on all around me, As I entered, as it were into this new world 143 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. Of life — these inner temples of the great And glorious system of the universe. I stood alone amidst this new And populous creation, and I stretch’d Myself beneath a tree voluptuously, To sate my soul with wonder. 11. I am astonished, I am shocked to hear such principles confessed — to hear them avowed in this house or in this country. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife — to the cannibal savage torturing, murdering, devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled victims ! 1 2. It fills us with amazement when we see the reins given unchecked to the passions, even in youth ; but there is some allowance to be made to that boiling season of life when nature is all-impetuous, and the attractions of the world are so intimately felt and so readily obeyed. But what must be our wonder — our astonishment — when we see men, as they decline from their meridian, burning fiercer and fiercer for that world ; shocking the wrinkles on their brow by an insatiable desire for more wealth and distinction; sacrificing their glorious reversionary hoyes for acquisitions that are on the point of being torn from them, and promising themselves a kind of immortality here so long as they behold a single human being one step nearer to the grave ? Rule V. — All sentences that are of an exclamatory nature take a general rising inflection ; but the keys in which the voice is pitched vary from very low to very high, in accordance with the character of the emotion of which such sentence is the expression. — (See “Lectures on Modulation of the Voice.”) , Jlliistrations for Practice. 1. 6 God ! 0 God ! that e’er this tongue of mine That laid the sentence of dread banishment On you, proud man, should take it off again With words of sooth ! Oh, that I were as great As is my grief ; or lesser than my name ! Or that I could forget what I have been, Or not remember what I must be now ! 2. Oh, crueller than was ever told in tale Or sung in song ! O vainly lavish’d love ! O cruel ! there was nothing wild or strange Or seeming shameful ; for what shame in love. So love be true, and not as yours is — nothing ? 3. Stabb’d through the heart’s affections to the heart ! Seethed like the kid in its own mother’s milk ! Kill’d with a word, worse than a life of blows ! Lect. IX.l ON ELOCUTION. 14^ I thought that he was gentle, being great. 0 God, that I had lov’d a smaller man 1 4. Ah, Richard, with eyes of heavy mind 1 see thy glory, like a shooting star. Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west. Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest : Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ; And crossly to thy good all fortune goes ! 5. Oh, now for ever Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell Content ! Farewell the plumed troop, with the big wars That make ambition virtue ! Oh farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump. The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. The royal banner, and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious War, Farewell ! 6. Oh ! when the last account ’twixt Heaven and Earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation ! How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes ill deeds done ! 7. Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts Come crowding thickly up for utterance, And the poor words of common courtesy Are such a very mockery — how much The bursting heart may pour itself in Prayer ! 8. Alas ! for this gray shadow, once a man — So glorious in his beauty and thy choice. Who madest him thy chosen, that he seemed To his great heart none other than a god ! Ay me ! ay me ! with what another heart In days far off, and with what other eyes I used to watch — if I be he that watch’d — The lucid outline forming round thee ; saw The dim curls kindle into sunny rings ; Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood Glow with the glow that slowly crimson’d all Thy presence and thy portals while I lay. Mouth, forehead, eyelids growing dewy-warm With kisses balmier than half-opening buds Of April; and I could hear the lips that kiss’d AVhispering, I knew not what, of wild and sweet, Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing. While Ilion, like a mist, rose into towers 1 144 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 9. Oh, thou beautiful And unimaginable Ether ! and Ye multiplying masses of increased And still increasing lights ! Is your cause still measured for ye ? or do ye Sweep on in your unbounded revelry Through an aerial universe of endless Expansion, at which my soul aches to think, Intoxicated with Eternity ? 0 God ! O Gods, or whatsoe’er ye are, How beautiful ye are ! how beautiful Your works, or accidents, or whatsoe’er They may be ! Let me die, as atoms die (If that they die), or know ye in your might, And knowledge ! My thoughts are not in this hour Unworthy what I see, though my dust is. Spirit ! let me expire or see them nearer ! TO. My mother Earth, And thou, fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains ! 1 cannot love ye ! And thou ! the bright eye of the universe. That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight ! Thou shin’st not on my heart. And you, ye crags ! upon whose extreme edge I stand, and on the torrent’s brink, beneath. Behold the tall pines, dwindled as to shrubs In dizziness of distance, when a leap, A stir — a motion, — even a breath would bring My breast upon its rocky bosom’s bed, To rest for ever ! Beautiful ! How beautiful is all this visible world ! Hark ! the note ! The natural music of the mountain reed ! My soul would drink these echoes ! Oh that I were The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, A living voice, a breathing harmony, A bodiless enjoyment, born and dying With the blest tone which made me ! II. Ay? And this man dares to talk of conscience! Conscience, forsooth 1 It is enough to make one’s blood boil to think on’t ! That he who had publicly, and in the open light of day, thrown off every coverlet of shame — that he should, without sense, or memory, or feeling, before the eyes of the whole empire, with the traces of his degradation still fresh upon him, presume to call upon the name of the great and eternal God, and in all the blasphemy of sacrilegious cant, dedicate himself, with an invocation to Heaven, to the everlasting oppression of my country I This it is that sets me, and every true patriot, on fire ! L£CT. IX.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION 145 This it is which raises, excites, inflames, exasperates ! This it is which applies a torch to our passions ! This it is which blows our indignation into flames ! 12. No ! you will not consign the man whom I defend to the spot to which th-e Attorney-General invites you to surrender him ! When the spring shall have come again, and the winter shall have passed — when the spring shall have come again — it is not through the windows of a prison-house that the father of such a son, and the son of such a father, shall look on those green hills on which the eyes of many a captive have gazed so wistfully in vain ; but in their own mountain-home again, where they shall listen to the murmurs of the great Atlantic, they shall go forth and inhale the freshness of the morning air together ; “ they shall be free of mountain solitudes \ ” they will be encompassed with the loftiest images of Liberty on every side ; and if time shall have stolen its supple- ness from the father’s knee, or impaired the firmness of his tread, he shall lean on the child of her who watches over him from Heaven, and shall look out, far and wide, from some high place, over the island whose greatness and glory shall be for ever associated with his name ! In your love of justice, — in your love of Ireland, — in your love of honesty and fair play, I place my confidence ! I ask you for an acquittal, not only for the sake of your country, but for your own ! And when, upon the day when this trial shall have been brought to a termination, and in answer to the question you will be asked, you shall answer, “Not Guilty,” with what a transport will that glorious negative be welcomed. How will you be blessed, adored, worshipped ! And when, retiring from this scene of excitement and of passion, you shall return to your own tranquil homes, how pleasurably will you look upon your children, in the consciousness that you will have left them a patrimony of peace, by impressing upon the British Cabinet that some other measure besides a State prosecution is necessary for the pacification of your country ! K LECTURE X. The Falling Inflections of the voice — Logical Principles of their application : (i) Where the meaning of a Clause or Sentence is complete ; Illustrations ; (2) Where it is required to keep Clauses distinct and independent ; Illustrations ; (3) Where an Interrogation cannot be answered by a simple Affirmative or Negative ; Illustra- tions ; Exceptions ; Illustrations ; Emotional Uses of the Falling Inflections;: (i) In Sentences expressing Strong Conviction or Solemn Affirmation; Illustrations ; (2) In Sentences that Express Command or Authority ; Illustrations ; (3) Where Sentences express Hatred, Anger, &c. ; Illustrations — Use of the Staccato; Illustrations — Climax, how best Rendered ; Illustrations — Gradual Inflections or Monotone — Uses of the Monotone — When Passages are characterised by Awe or Solemnity ; Illustrations. |E have now to enter upon an examination of the falling inflec- 1! tions of the voice, and of the uses they serve in Elocution. Let us take these first in reference to the logical principles which govern their application, and afterwards consider them as regards emotional expression. With respect to the former division, I should give this as Rule i. — As soon as the meaning of a sentence, or clause of a sen- tence, is logically complete, then the falling inflection must be employed. Illustrations for Practice. I. The princely David with his outlaw band, Lodged in the cave Adullam. Wild and fierce, With lion-like faces and with eagle eyes. They followed where he led. The danger press’d ; Far over all the land the Philistines Had spread their armies. Through Rephaim’s vale The dark tents muster’d thick, and David’s home — His father’s city Bethlehem, owned them lords. ’Twas harvest, and the crops of ripening corn They ravaged ; and with rude feet trampled down The tender vines. Men hid themselves for fear In woods or caves. The brave, undaunted few, Gathering round David, sought the mountain hold. Lect. X.J KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. H7 2 . The setting sun fell low on Zutphen’s plain ; The fight was over and the victory won ; And out of all the din and stir of war, They bore the flower of Christian chivalry, The life-blood gushing out. He came, the pure, The true, the stainless ; all youth’s fiery glow, All manhood’s wisdom blended into one ; To help the weak against the strong ; to drive The Spaniard from a land which was not his, And claim the right of all men to be free. Free in their life, their polity, their faith. 3. Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, Elaine the lily maid of Astolat, High in her chamber, up a tower to the east. Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ; Which first she placed where morning’s earliest ray Might strike it and awake her with the gleam ; Then, fearing rust or soilure, fashioned for it A case of silk ; and braided thereupon All the devices blazoned on the shield In their own tinct ; and added of her wit A border fantasy of branch and flower. And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. 4. I will tell you : The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne Burned on the water : the poop was beaten gold. Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were silver ; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster. As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description : she did lie In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue) O’er picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy outwork nature : on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With diverse-coloured fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid, did. 5. Now came still evening on, and twilight grey Had in her sober liv’ry all things clad. Silence accompanied : for beast and bird. They to their grassy couch, these to their nests. Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale : She, all night long, her am’rous descant sung. Silence was pleas’d. Now glow’d the Armament With living sapphires : Hesperus, that led 148 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. The starry host, rode brightest ; till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen, unveil’d her peerless light, And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw. 6. We stood beneath the concave of a blue And cloudless sky : With clear voice That falter’d not, albeit the heart was mov’d, d'he Wanderer said : ‘‘One adequate support For the calamities of mortal life Exists — one only; an assur’d belief That the procession of our fate, howe’er Sad or disturb’d, is ordered by a Being Of infinite benevolence and power ; Whose everlasting purposes embrace All accidents converting them to good.” 7. I went to see him, and my heart was touch’d With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake, And entering on discourse, such stories told As made me oft revisit his sad cell. For he had been a soldier in his youth, And fought in famous battles, when the peers Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led. Against the usurping infidel, display’d The blessed cross, and won the holy land. Pleas’d with my admiration, and the fire His speech struck from me, the old man would shake His years away, and act his young encounters ; Then, having show’d his wounds, he’d sit him down, And all the livelong day discourse of war. To help my fancy, — in the smooth green turf He’d cut the figures of the marshall ’d hosts. Describ’d the motions, and explain’d the use Of the deep column, and the lengthen’d line, The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm. For all that Saracen or Christian knew Of war’s vast art was to this hermit known. 8. Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue, ■ Pour’d forth with fervour in continuous stream. Such as, remote, ’mid savage wilderness. An Indian chief discharges from his breast. Meantime the sun. To us who stood low in that hollow dell, Had now become invisible, — a pomp Reaving behind of yellow radiance, spread Over the mountain sides, in contrast bold Lect. X.] OiV ELOCUTION. [49 With ample shadows, seemingly, no less Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest, A dispensation of his evening power. — Adown the path that from the glen had led The funeral train, the shepherd and his mate Were seen descending : forth to greet them ran Our little page ; the rustic pair approach, And Ave are kindly welcom’d — promptly serv’d With ostentatious zeal.— Along the floor Of the small cottage in the lowly dell A grateful couch was spread for our repose. Where, in the guise of mountaineers, we slept, Stretched upon fragrant heath, and lull’d by sound Of far-off torrents charming the still night. And, to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts, Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness. 9. Dear is the memory of our Vv^edded lives, And dear the last embraces of our wives, And their warm tears ; but all hath suffered change. And surely now our household hearths are cold : Our sons inherit us : our looks are strange. And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy : Or else the island princes over-bold Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings Before them of the ten years’ war in Troy And our great deeds as half-forgotten things. 10. The lotos blooms below the barren peak : The lotos blows by every winding creek ; All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone, Through every hollow cave and alley lone : Round and round the spicy downs the yellow lotos-dust is blown. We have had enough of action and of motion, we Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething free. Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. II. In the first place, true honour, though it be a different principle from religion, is that which produces the same effects. The lines of action, though drawn from different parts, terminate in the same points. Religion embraces virtue, as it is enjoined by the laws of God ; honour as it is graceful and ornamental to human nature. The religious man fears, the man of honour scorns, to do an ill action. The latter considers vice as something that is beneath him, the other as something that is offensive to the Divine Being. The one as what is unbecoming, the other as what is forbidden. Thus Seneca speaks in the natural and genuine language of a man of honour, when he declares, that were there no God to see or punish vice, he would not commit it, because it is of so mean, so base, and so vile a nature. KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. ISO 12. Virtue is the foundation of honour and esteem, and the source of all beauty, order, and happiness in nature. It is what confers value on all the other endowments and qualities of a reasonable being, to which they ought to be absolutely subservient, and without which, the more eminent they are, the more hideous deformities and the greater curses they become. The use of it is not confined to any one stage of our existence, or to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches through all the periods and circumstances of our being. — Many of the endowments and talents we now possess, and of which we are too apt to be proud, will cease entirely with the present state ; but this will be our ornament and dignity in every future state to which we may be removed. Beauty and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and all the arts of life be soon forgot ; but virtue will remain for ever. Rule II. — Inasmuch as a falling inflection always suggests to the mind a certain degree of completeness of meaning (just as a rising inflec- tion does of incompleteness) it may be usefully employed in those sentences which consist of several clauses, conveying imperfect sense, and independent of each other’s meaning, for the purpose of keeping the several clauses separate and distinct from each other. Illiisti'ations for Practice. 1. Swarth figures clothed In strange apparel from the further East, Bringing their spice and balm from Lebanon To tempt our Western beauties ; Ethiop boys, Bound for the market, crouching side by side With blue-eyed Thracians ; merchants with their w^res Were mingled on the deck. 2 . You, Lord Archbishop, Whose See is by a civil peace maintained ; Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched ; Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored , Whose white investments figure innocence ; You do ill translate yourself Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war. 3. And then when Harry Bolingbroke and he Being mounted, and both roused in their seats ; Their neighing coursers daring of the spur ; Their armed staves in charge ; their beavers down ; Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel; And the loud trumpet blowing them together — Then, then the King did throw his warder down. 4. The passionate prayer — The wild idolatry — the purple light Bathing the cold earth from a Hebe’s urn. Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION * 5 * Yea, all the soul’s divine excess which youth Claims as its own — came back when first I loved thee. 5. The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself — Yea, all which it inherit — shall dissolve. And like this insubstantial pageant faded Leave not a rack behind. 6. Thy false uncle, Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them ; whom to advance and whom To thrash for overtopping, new created The creatures that were mine, or changed them. 7. The name appended by the burning heart That long’d to show its idol what bright things It had created — yea, the enthusiast’s name That should have been thy triumph was thy scorn. That very hour — when passion, turned to wrath. Resembled hatred most — when thy disdain Made my whole soul a chaos — in that hour The tempters found me a revengeful tool For their revenge. Thou hadst trampled on the worm — It turned and stung thee. 8. Yea, the very walls And moats of castled forts — the barren seas — The cell wherein the pale-eyed student holds Talk with melodious science — all are sown With everlasting honours, if our souls Will toil for fame, as boors for bread. 9 Aunus from green Tifernum, Lord of the Hill of Vines ; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva’s mines ; And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war ; All these led forth the Umbrian powers From that great crag where girt with towers The fortress of Nequinum lowers O’er the pale waves of Nar. 10. Men who live a life of moral decency, Men who can hear the Decalogue and feel No self-reproach, who of the moral law. Established in ^he land where they abide. Are strict observers ; men not negligent In acts of love to those with whom they dwell ; Many such as these there are. 52 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. And peace be to them : but such Cold abstinence from evil deeds Is not enough to elevate the soul. ir. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own hearts and characters ; to restrain every irregular inclination ; to subdue every rebellious passion ; to purify the motives of our conduct ; to form ourselves to that temperance which no pleasure can seduce ; to that meekness which no provocation can ruffle ; to that patience which no affliction can overwhelm ; and to that integrity which no interest can shake : this is the task which, in our sojourn here, we are required to accomplish. T 2. 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 incontestable reasons of preference must live and die inquiring and deliberating. Rule III. — Where a sentence is interrogative in its character, but to which a simple affirmative or negative cannot be returned as an answer, but something definite in expression must be given instead, such sentence requires at its close the falling inflection. Illustrations for Practice. 1. Why was I born to taste this depth of woe? Why closed not darkness o’er my infant life On that accursed day, when joyful lips. Unknowing of the future, raised the cry, “ Rejoice, O mother ! Lo ! a child is born?” 2. In what have I offended you ? what cause Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure That thus you should proceed to put me off And take your good grace from me? When was the hour I ever contradicted your desire, . Or made it not mine too ? Which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I knew He was mine enemy ? What friend of mine That had to him derived your anger, did I Continue in my liking? 3. Why droops my lord like over-ripened corn. Hanging the head at care’s plenteous load ? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows As frowning at the favours of the world ? Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth. Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What seest thou there ? Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 153 4. What! my young master ? Why, what make you here ? Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you ? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ? Why would you be so fond to overcome The haughty pride of the humorous Duke ? 5. Why have you made your other love (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot) To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare. Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul, And tender me, forsooth 1 affection. But by your setting on, by your consent? 6. For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, Have found the ground of study’s excellence Without the beauty of a woman’s face? And where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman’s eye? And when would you, my liege, or you, or you, In leaden contemplation have found out Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes Of beauty’s tutors have enriched you with ? 7. How can I sleep? How can you wish that I should sleep when night Succeeds to night, and still the unconquer’d wind. Laden with snow and hailstones dashes round us As if in scorn of Highlanders, content To yield the fastnesses in which it held Joint empire with our sires ; and still the fear That it hath dealt its vengeance on the head We love, increases ; — with the time o’erpast For sad and shameful travel? 8. Why, who cries out on pride That can therein tax any private party ? What woman in the city do I name? When that I say the city- woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? Who can come in and say that I mean her. When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? Or what is he of laxest function That says his bravery is not on my cost. Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 9. Tell me who thou art ? WTat generous source owns that heroic blood Which holds its course thus bravely ? What great wars 154 A7NG’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. Have nursed this courage that can look on death — Certain and speedy death — with placid eye, Whence came that tone, that smile ? What idle dream Of long-past days hath melted me ? 10. Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canonised bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements ? Why the sepulchre Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned Hath op’d his ponderous and marble jaws To cast thee up again? What may this mean That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisit’st thus the glimpses of the moon. Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this ? Wherefore ? What should we do ? 11. What war has thus laid waste the fertile fields of this once beautiful and opulent country ? — what civil dissensions have happened, thus to tear asunder and separate the happy societies that once possessed these villages? — what disputed succession, what religious rage, has, with unholy violence, demolished those temples, and disturbed fervent, but unobtruding piety, in the exercise of its duties? — what merciless enemy has thus spread the horrors of fire and sword? — what severe visitation of Providence has dried up the fountain, and taken from the face of the earth every vestige of verdure ? — Or, rather, what monsters have stalked over the country, tainting and poisoning with pestiferous breath what the voracious appetite could not devour ? 1 2. Who is it that causes this river to rise in the high mountains, and to empty itself in the ocean ? Who is it that causes to blow the loud winds of winter, and that calms them again in the summer ? Who is it that rears up the shade of these lofty forests, and blasts them with the quick lightning at His pleasure ? Who but the same Great Spirit who gave to you a country on the other side of the waters, and gave ours to us ? I think I have now given you what seems to me, after the best con- sideration I have been able to bestow upon the subject, the principal rules that govern the falling inflections, so far as regards the logical uses which they serve in reference to the utterance of clauses or sentences that come within their application. But before I proceed to any illustration of the emotional uses of the falling inflections, I have to mention one rule regarding the pronunciation of penultimate clauses which forms apparently an exception to the first general rule given above ; and the exception is this : — we ought not, without absolute necessity, to adopt the falling inflection upon the last member but one of a sentence. The foundation of this rule is the natural perception of melody by the ear, which (as Walker observes) has as mticli dislike to a too great similitude of consecutive sounds as the Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 55 understanding has to a want of sufficient distinction between members differently connected. When this distinction, therefore, is sufficiently obvious, and no improper connection is formed by using the rising inflection, the ear always requires this inflection on the penultimate member ; for, as the last member must almost always be terminated by the falling inflection at its close, a falling inflection immediately pre- ceding it in the penultimate member would be too close a repetition of similar sounds. Hence arises the propriety of the general rule that a penultimate clause takes a rising inflection. The following sentence will serve to illustrate the principle on which this rule is based : “ The Deity has annexed a secret pleasure to anything that is new or uncommon, that He might encourage us in the pursuit after know- ledge, and engage us to search into the wonders of His creation ; for every new idea brings such a pleasure along with it as rewards any pains we have taken in the acquisition, and consequently serves as a motive to put us upon fresh discoveries.” When, however, the penultimate clause terminates with a word that is specially emphatic, or which implies an antithesis, the desired effect is best produced by ending the penultimate clause with either a simple falling inflection in the first case, or what is termed a falling circumflex in the latter. Of the circumflex inflections I shall speak fully in my next Lecture. The following sentence will serve as an example of this principle : “I must therefore desire you to remember that by the pleasures of the imagination I meant only such pleasures as arise originally from sight., and that I divide these pleasures into two kinds.” In this sentence you observe that the word “ sight ” is emphatic, and, though ending the penultimate clause, should have, not the rising, but the falling inflection, as this inflection best brings out the effect of an emphatic phrase. I now proceed to consider the principal emotional uses of the falling inflections, and this, as being the nearest allied to the logical uses, I should place as Rule I. — Where it is desired to convey the impression of solemn affirmation or strong conviction of the truth of what we say, emphatic falling inflections on the principal words, even though the sentence may be negative in form of construction, produce the desired effect ; and the keys in which the inflections are pitched are in general low. Jlhistrations for Practice. 2. Besides, I say, and will in battle prove, — Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge That ever was surveyed by English eye, — That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complbtted and contrived in this land. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Iv/.VG’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 156 Further, I say, and further will maintain Upon his bad life to make all this good. That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester’s death, Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, And consequently like a traitor-coward Sluic’d out his innocent soiil through streams of blood ; Which blood, like sacrificing Abel’s, cries Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth To me, for justice and rough chastisement ! And by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 2. Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, Disburst I duly to his Highness’ soldiers ; The other part reserved I by consent, For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Upon remainder of a dear account. Since last I went to France to fetch his Queen : Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester’s death, — I slew him not ; but, to my own disgrace, Neglected my sworn duty in that case. 3. God’s is the quarrel ; for God’s substitute, His deputy anointed in His sight, Hath caused his death ; the which if wrongfully, Let God avenge ; for I may never lift An angry arm against His minister. 4. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, — I have had feeling of my cousin’s wrongs. And laboured all I could to do him right : But in this kind to come in braving arms, Be his own carver, and cut out his way, To find out right with wrong, it may not be; And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. 5. Tell Bolingbroke (for yond’ methinks he is) That every stride he makes upon my land Is dangerous treason. He is come to ope The purple testament of bleeding war : But e’er the crown he looks for live in peace Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers’ sons Shall ill become the flower of England’s face. Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To scarlet indignation ; and bedew Her pastures’ grass with faithful English blood. 6. I will avenge this insult, noble Queen, Done in your maiden’s person to yourself; And I will track this vermin to their earths : Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION 157 For though I ride unarmed I do not doubt To find, at some place I shall come at, arms On loan, or else for pledge ; and, being found, Then will I fight him, and will break his pride, And on the third will again be here. So that I be not fallen in fight. Farewell. 7. And if there were a hundred in the wood. And every man were larger limb’d than I, And all at once should sally out upon me, I swear it would not ruffle me so much, As you that not obey me. 8. Me you call great : mine is the firmer seat, The truer lance ; but there is many a youth Now crescent, who will come to all I am. And overcome it;- and in me there dwells No greatness, save it be some far-off touch Of greatness, to know well I am not great. There is the man. 9. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood : Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England’s throne ; and therefore mark : John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be That whilst warm life plays in that infant’s veins, The misplaced John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. A sceptre snatch’d with an unruly hand Must be as boisterously maintained as gained ; And he that stands upon a slippery place M akes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall. 10. Your Grace must pardon me : I will not back, I am too high-born to be propertied. To be a secondary at control. Or useful serving-man, and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the world. Your breath first kindled the dead coals of war. Between this chastised kingdom and myself, And brought in matter that should feed this fire. And now ’tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which first enkindled it. Ti. Gentlemen, in thus declaring my opinion, I place it as my own opinion in front of my address to you, and I wish you not to mistake for the mere zeal of professional duty the energies of truth and freedom. 58 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. For although, in ordinary cases, the advocate and the private man ought in sound discretion to be kept asunder, yet there are occasions where such separation would be treachery and meanness. In a case where the dearest rights of society are to be supported by resisting a prosecu- tion of which the party accused is but a mere name ; where the whole community is to be wounded through the sides of that party ; and where the conviction of the individual will be the subversion or surrender of public privileges, the advocate has a more extensive charge. The duty of the patriot citizen then mingles itself with its obligation to his client, and he disgraces himself, dishonours his profession, and betrays his country, if he does not step forth in his genuine character, and vindicate the rights of his fellow-citizens, which are attacked through the medium of the man he is defending. Gentlemen, I do not shrink from that responsibility upon this occasion, but desire to be considered the fellow-criminal of the defendant, if, by your verdict, he shall be found a criminal. 12. From the Star-Chamber, gentlemen, the prevention and punish- ment of libels descended to the courts of common law : and, with the power, they seem to have inherited much of the spirit of that tribunal. Servility at the bar, and profligacy on the bench, have not been wanting to aid every construction unfavourable to freedom : and, at length, it is taken as granted, and as clear law, that truth or falsehood is quite immaterial, constituting no part of either guilt or innocence. I would wish to examine this revolting doctrine ; and, in doing so, I am proud to tell you that it has no other foundation than in the oft- repeated assertions of lawyers and judges. One servile writer has stated this doctrine, from time to time, after another — and one overbearing judge has re-echoed the assertion of a time-serving predecessor — and the public have at length submitted. I do, therefore, feel not only gratified in having the occasion, but bound to express my opinion upon the real law of this subject. I know that opinion is but of little weight. I have no professional rank or station to give it importance ; but it is an honest and conscientious opinion, and it is this ; — that, in the discussion of public subjects, and of the administration of public men, truth is a duty and not a o'ime. Rule II. — Sentences that express command, reprehension, or authority, take emphatic falling inflections, and the range of the voice in pitch is usually from the middle to lower keys. Illustrations for Practice. I. We are not born to sue, but to command, Which since we cannot do to make you friends. Be ready, as your lives shall answer it. At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert’s day. There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate. Lisct. X.] ON ELOCUTION 159 Since we cannot atone you, you shall seb Justice decide the victor’s chivalry. Lord Marshal, bid our officers-at arms Be ready to direct these home alarms. 2. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce The fly-slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile : The hopeless word of never to return. Breathe I against thee upon pain of life. 3. 1 must prevent thee, Cimber. These couchings and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men. And turn pre-ordinance and first decree Into the law of children. Be not fond To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood That will be thaw’d from the true quality With that which melteth fools — I mean sweet words. Low-crooked courtesies, and base spaniel fawning. Thy brother by decree is banished ; If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him, I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. Know Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied. 4. While we waited for his words Another voice from the deep shade that gloom’d Beyond the death-bed came ; and ’midst it stood The squalid figure of a woman, wrought Beyond the natural stature as she stretched Her withered finger towards the youth and spoke — “Halbert, obey. The hour which sees thee rule O’er the Macdonalds of Glencoe, shall bring Terror and death.” 5. Spirits of earth and air. Ye shall not thus elude me; by a power Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant spell. Which had its birthplace in a star condemn’d, The burning wreck of a demolish’d world, A wandering hell in the eternal space ; By the strong curse which is upon my soul. The thought that is within me and around me, I do compel ye to my will. Appear ! 6. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn — to its peak, — To its extremest peak — watch him there From now till sunrise ; let him gaze and know He ne’er again will be so near to heaven. i6o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. But harm him not, and when the morrow breaks Set him down safe in his cell — away with him. 7. You will not, boy ! you dare to answer thus ! But in my time a father’s word was law. And so it shall be now for me. 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. And never more darken my doors again. 8. Give this answer to the envoys — ■ This to De Chavigny — he knows the rest — No need of parchment here — he must not halt For sleep, for food. In 7 ny name ! mine! — he will Arrest the Duke de Bouillon at the head Of his army. Ho ! there. Count de Baradas, Thou hast lost the stake. Away with him ! 9. Yes, gold — no one can need it more than I — I who lurk about in dismal suburbs And unwholesome lanes ; I who am housed Worse than the galley-slave ; I who am fed Worse than the kennell’d hound ; I who am clothed in rags ; I, Beltran Cruzado, here do tell thee now, I want the Buzne’s gold, give me his gold. And if I have it not, I tell thee this. Thou shalt no longer dwell here in rich chambers, Wear silken dresses, feed on dainty food, And live in idleness ; but go with me. Dance the Romalis in the public streets. And wander wild again o’er field and fell ; For here we stay not long. 10. Cromwell, 1 did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries, but thou hast forc’d me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let’s dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, Cromweh, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be. And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must more be heard, say then I taught thee ; Say Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory. And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour. Found thee a way out of his wreck to rise in : A sure and safe one, though thy master miss’d it. Mark but my fall, and that which ruin’d me : Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ; By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then (Though th’ image of his Maker) hope to win by’t ? Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that wait thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION, l6i Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy Country’s, Thy God’s, and Truth’s; then if thou fall’st, O Cromwell, Thou fall’st a blessed martyr. Serve the King And pr’ythee lead me in There take an inventory of all I have. To the last penny, ’tis the King’s. My robe. And my integrity to Heav’n, is all I dare now call my own. II. Away! then, with impiety; peace! to those turbulent discords and dissensions which break and dissolve the concord of human society, the heavenly bond of public union, and let our study be, to make ourselves good and beneficent to the utmost of our power. If some- thing more than a common share of riches and wealth fall to our lot, let it not be squandered for the pleasure of one, but imparted for the welfare of all. For pleasure is as short-lived as the body to which it ministers ; but justice and beneficence are as immortal as the soul that by its good deeds assimilates itself to God. Let us consecrate Him not in temples, but in our hearts ; for all things are destructible which are made with hands. Let us purify that temple which is defiled, not by smoke or by dust, but by evil thoughts ; that temple which is illumined, not by burning tapers, but by the clear light of wisdom : in which, if we think that God is ever present, we shall so live as to have Him always propitious, without any cause to fear His wrath. 12. Let the young go out, in these hours, under the descending sun of the year, into the fields of nature. Their hearts are now ardent with hope — with the hopes of fame, of honour, or of happiness ; and, in the long perspective which is before them, their imagination creates a world whyre all may be enjoyed. Let the scenes which they now may witness moderate, but not extinguish, their ambition ; — while they see the yearly desolation of nature, let them see it as the emblem of mortal hope; — while they feel the disproportion between the powers they possess, and the time they are to be employed, let them carry their ambitious eye beyond the world; — and while, in these sacred solitudes, a voice in their own bosom corresponds to the voice of decaying nature, let them take that high decision which becomes those who feel themselves the inhabitants of a greater world, and who look to a Being incapable of decay. Rule HI. — It may be said as a general principle that all the sterner, harsher, and more vindictive passions, such as anger, hatred, detesta- tion, &c., take the most extreme degree of the emphatic falling inflec- tion ’ and the voice, though for the most part loud in power, is pitched in the lowest keys. L KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 162 Illustrations for Practice. 1. Now by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate, and the night, By all the operations of the orbs, From whom we do exi'st and cea'se to be; Here I disclaim all my paternal care. Propinquity, and property of blood. And as a stronger to my heart and me, HoM thee from this for ever. 2. Hear me, recreant. Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow. Which we durst never yet, and with strained pride To come betwixt our sentence and our power, Our potency made good, take thy reward. Five days we do allot thee for provision, To shield thee from disasters of the world ; ’ And on the sixth day to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom ; if the tenth day following Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions. That moment is thy death. Away ! by Jupiter, This shall not be revok’d ! 3. Life and death ! I am ashamed That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ; That these hot tears which break from me perforce. Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee ! The untented woundings of a father’s curse Pierce every sense about thee ! 4. Poison be their drink ; Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste ; Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ; Their sweetest prospects, murdering basilisks ; Their softest touch as smart as lizards’ stings ; Their music frightful as the serpent’s hiss, And boding screech-owls make the concert full With the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell. 5. He is my bane ; I cannot bear him ; One heaven and earth can never hold us both ; Still shall we hate, and with defiance deadly Keep rage alive till one be lost for ever ; As if two suns should meet in one meridian, And strive in fiery combat for the passage. 6. I know not ; if they speak but truth of her. These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her honour, The proudest of them well shall hear of it. Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, ON ELOCUTION, 163 Lect. X.l Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awak’d in such a kind To quit me of them thoroughly. 7. Nothing ril bear from thee But nakedness, thou detestable town; Take thou that, too, with multiplying banns. The gods confound— hear me, ye good gods all ! — The Athenians, both within and out that wall. And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low. 8 . Look to your hearths, my lords — For there henceforth shall sit as household gods Shapes hot from Tartarus — all shames and crimes — Wan Treachery with his thirsty dagger drawn — ■ Suspicion poisoning his brother’s cup — Naked Rebellion with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; Till Anarchy come down on you like night, And massacre seal Rome’s eternal grave. 9. This, and all illusion do I curse. All that beguiles us, man or boy — that winds Over the heart its net, and chains us here In thraldom down or voluntary chance. This magic jugglery that fools the soul, These obscure powers that cloud and flatter it. Oh ! cursed first of all be the high thoughts That man conceives of his own attributes ; And cursed be the shadowy appearances. The false, delusive images of things, That slave and mock the senses. Cursed be The hypocrite dreams that soothe us when we think Of fame, of deathless and enduring names. Cursed be all that, in self-flattery. We call our own — wife, child, and slave, and plough. Curse upon Mammon, when with luring gold He stirs our souls to hardy deeds, or when He smooths the couch of indolent repose. A curse upon the sweet grape’s balmy juice. And the passionate joys of love, man’s highest joys. And cursed be all hope and all belief ; And cursed, more than all, man’s tame endurance. 10 I grieve to see the company thou keepest — The man whom thou hast ever at thy side, I hate him from the bottom of my soul. KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 164 The very sight of him makes my blood thrill. To most men I feel kindliness — but him Do I detest ; and with a feeling strong — Strong as my love for you — strong as my wishes To have you with me — does a secret shudder Creep over me when I behold this man. He is — I cannot be deceived — a villain. I would not, could not, live together with him. He feels no love for any living soul ; — And when I am so happy in thine arms, Forgetting everything but thee, then, then He’s sure to come, and my heart shrinks and withers. This hatred overmasters me so wholly That, if he does but join us, straightway it seems As if I ceased to love thee. Where he is I could not pray. This eats into my heart. 1 1. The right honourable gentleman has called me “ an unimpeached traitor.” I ask, why not “traitor,” unqualified by any epithet? I will tell him ; it was because he dare 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 villain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy councillor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. But I say he is one who has abused the privilege of Parliament and freedom of debate, to the uttering language which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy councillor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow. The right honourable member has told me I deserted a profession where wealth and station were the reward of industry and talent. If I mistake not, that gentleman endeavoured to obtain those rewards by the same means ; but he soon deserted the occupation of a barrister for that of a parasite and pander. He fled from the labour of study to flatter at the table of the great. He found the lord’s parlour a better sphere for his exertions than the hall of the Four Courts ; the house of a great man, a more convenient way to power and to place ; and that it was easier for a statesman of middling talents to sell his friends, than a lawyer of no talents to sell his clients. 12. I have returned, not, as the right honourable member has said, to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge an honourable 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 returned to protect that constitution, of which I was the parent and the founder, from the assassination of such men as the honourable 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 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. malicious, given to the public under the appellation of a committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready for I dare accusation. I defy the honourable gentleman government ; I defy the whole phalanx : let them come forth, ministers I will neither give them quarter nor take it. I arn here the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of this House, in defence of the liberties of my country. Rule IV. — In sentences that express gloom, dejection, melancholy, and similar distressing emotions, falling inflections predominate, and the voice is pitched in keys more or less low, and the time is slow. Illustrations for Practice. 1. My soiil is sad that I have roamed through life, Still most a stranger, most with naked heart At mine own home and birthplace : chiefly then When I remember thee, my earliest friend — Thee, who didst watch my boyhood and my youth, Didst trace my wanderings with a father’s eye ; And boding evil, yet still hoping good. Rebuked each fault, and over all my woes Sorrowed in silence. 2. Sad lot to have no hope ! Though lowly kneeling, He fain would frame a prayer within his breast, Would fain entreat for some sweet breath of healing. That his sick body might have ease and rest He strove in vain — the dull sighs from his chest. Against his will, the stifling load revealing Though nature forced ; though like some captive guest, Some royal prisoner at his conqueror’s feast. An alien’s restless mood but half concealing, The sternness on his gentle brow confessed Sickness within and miserable feeling, 3. A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear — ■ A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief Which finds no natural outlet or relief In word, or sigh, or tear. My genial spirits fail. And naught can these avail To lift the smothering weight from off my breast It were a vain endeavour Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west. 4. I am not sleepy. And yet I must to bed ; I fain would say To rest, but something heavy on my spirit, i66 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. Too dull for wakefulness, too quick for slumber, Sits on me, as a cloud along the sky Which will not let the sunbeams through, Nor yet descend in rain and end, but spreads itself "Twixt earth and heaven, like envy between man And man — an everlasting mist. 5. Death — I know not what is. Yet it seems horrible. I have look’d out In the vast, desolate night in search of him; And when I saw gigantic shadows in The umbrage of the walls of Eden, chequer’d By the far flashing of the cherubs’ swords, 1 watch’d for what I thought his coming ; for With fear rose longing in my heart to know AVhat ’twas which shook us all — but nothing came: And then I turned my weary eyes from off Our native and forbidden Paradise, Up to the lights above us in the azure, Which are so beautiful. 6. My head is low, and no man cares for me ; I think I have not three days more to live ; My God has bowed me down to what I am ; My grief and solitude have broken me ; Nevertheless, know you that I am he Who married — but that name has twice been changed— I married her who married Philip Ray. Sit, woman, sit and listen. 7. All within is dark as night ; In the windows is no light ; And no murmur at the door, So frequent on its hinge before. Close the door, the shutters close, Or through the windows we shall see The nakedness and vacancy Of the dark, deserted house. Come away : no more of mirth Is here, or merry-making sound ; I'he house was builded of the earth. And shall fall again to ground. 8. Her tears fell with the dews at even ; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried ; She could not look on the sweet heaven. Either at noon or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky. She drew her casement curtain by And glanced across the glooming flats. Lect. X.l ON ELOCUTION. 167 She only said, “ The night is dreary \ He cometh not,” she said; •^he said, “ I am aweary — aweary ; I would that I were dead.” 9. Peace — I have sought it where it should be found. In love — with love, too, which perhaps deserved it ; And in its stead a heaviness of heart — A weakness of the spirit — listless days. And nights inexorable to sweet sleep Have come upon me. Peace — what peace ? the calm Of desolation, and the stillness of The untrodden forest, only broken by groaning. The sweeping forest through its boughs : Such is the sullen or the fitful state Of my mind overworn. The earth’s grown wicked. And many sighs and portents have proclaimed A change at hand, and an o’er whelming doom To perishable beings. 10. Say that again — The shadow of my sorrow — ay, let’s see ’Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in my tortur’d soul ; There lies the substance ; and I thank thee, king, For thy great bounty, that not only giv’st Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. I’ll beg one boon. And then begone and trouble you no more. II. I have of late (but wherefore I know not) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises ; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy, the air — look you — this brave o’erhanging firmament — this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire — why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. 1 2. My soul is weary of my life. I will leave my complaint upon myself. I will speak in the heaviness of my heart. Though I speak, my grief is not assuaged ; and though I forbear, I am not eased. Behold, I go forward, but God is not there ; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him. I seek Him on the left hand where He doth work, but I cannot behold Him; He hideth Himself on the right hand, so that I cannot see Him. I trust that practice in reading the foregoing illustrations of the several rules will not only soon give you the requisite compass and flexibility of voice, but will also make you quite familiar with the principles on which KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 1 68 they are founded. You cannot carefully go through them yourselves, or, indeed, listen to them when properly read, without perceiving that the kinds and degrees of the two classes of inflections with which words are pronounced are peculiarly expressive of their logical relation to the context, as well as of the emotional feeling of the speaker. Indeed, it may be said that the inflections constitute a natural language, of which ail the races of mankind are intuitively conscious ; and any close observer will soon discover that the language of the inflections is most developed when the feelings are the most excited, and the speaker is most free from any necessity to restrain their expression. Before I pass from the two great groups of the simple rising and falling inflections, I have to speak of sentences of peculiar forms of construction, which take exceptional uses of the inflections. In general, the words of a sentence, as we pronounce them, flow on upon continuous waves of sound, except where the current is, as it were, interrupted by grammatical, or what are termed rhetorical, pauses. Thus the sentence is broken up, if I may use the expression, into groups of words, each group flowing on upon its own wave of inflection, either rising or falling in the musical scale. Such an illustration as the follow- ing will serve to exemplify my meaning. When 7 at-length 7 Hyder-Ali 7 found that-he-had-to-do-with-men 7 who-either-would-sign-no-convention 7 or-whom-no-treaty 7 and-no-signa- ture 7 could-bind \* and-who-were-the-determined-enemies 7 of human- intercourse- itself he decreed 7 to-make-the-country 7 possessed-by- those-incorrigible 7 and-predestinated-criminals a-memorable-example- to-mankind-He-resolved \* in-the gloomy-recesses-of-a-mind 7 capacious- of-such-things 7 to-leave-the-whole-Carnatic 7 an-everlasting-monument- of-vengeance 7 and-to-put-perpetual-desolation 7 as-a-barrier 7 between- him 7 and-those 7 against-whom 7 the faith 7 which-holds-the-moral- elements-of-the-world-together \ was-no-protection. Mr. B. C. Bell very justly observes that perhaps the readiest mode of acquiring a correct idea of rhetorical punctuation is, to consider every cluster of words so connected as to admit of no separation, and con- taining a distinct primary or modifying idea, only as one oratorical word. These oratorical words must be separated from each other by pauses of greater or less duration. The division of sentences into oratorical words is equally necessary to present a composition in intelligible groups to the ear of the auditor, and to enable the speaker to replenish his lungs for the easy delivery of the words. The necessities of respiration are thus combined with the partial developments of sense, till the completion of the proposition or of the period is made. They also give time — the most important adjunct of effect in expression and action. The only exception to this is when every word, or nearly every word, in a clause or sentence is all-important or emphatic, and then the rare use of what is called in music the staccato conies into the service also of Elocution, as in the following passage : — Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION 169 What' men' could' do', we’ve' done' already'. Heaven' and' Earth' will' witness', If Rome' must' fall', that' we' are' innocent This staccato delivery, combined with an extreme degree of the rising inflection, expresses in a very striking manner exclamatory or interroga- tive surprise, as in the following illustrations : — I' an' itching' palm? Gone' to' be' married' ? gone' to' swear' a peace ? The most extreme increase of the voice, alike in range of inflection as well as in modulation and power, takes place in those passages which are characterised by what is called a climax. As the Greek word xXj.aaJ, whence we have taken the term, literally signifies “a ladder,” on which, of course, every step we mount takes us higher and higher, and pro- portionately increases our range and vision, so we apply, metaphorically, the word climax to passages where there is a regular increasing rhetorical 'gradation of meaning. Each clause in a sentence characterised by climax is in general delivered with an increase in the range of inflection, modulation, and emphasis, as well as crescendo in regard to volume and power of voice. We may take the following passages by way of Illustrations for Practice, 1. Though all the world should crack their duty to you And throw it from their souls ; though perils did Abound as thick as thought could make them. And appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty. As doth a rock against the chiding flood. Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours. 2. This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall. Or as a moat defensive to a house Against the envy of less happier lands ; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings Feared by their breed, and famous by their birth; This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land. Dear for her reputation through the world. Is now leased out (I die pronouncing it), Like to a tenement, or pelting farm. 3. You may as.well go stand upon the beach. And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; You may as well use question with the wolf Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops and to make no noise 170 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ; You may as well do anything most hard As seek to soften that — than which what’s harder ?~ His Jewish heart. 4. The quality of mercy is not strained : It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless’d ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes; ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown ; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; It is an attribute to God Himself ; And earthly power doth then show likest God’s When mercy seasons justice. 5. I impeach Warren Hastings, Esq., of high crimes and mis- demeanours. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, whose national character he has dishonoured. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose properties he has destroyed, whose country he has laid waste and desolate. I impeach him in the name, and by virtue, of those eternal laws of justice which he has violated. On the other hand, we meet with passages occasionally which, in order to produce their best effect, require to be rendered in what is sometimes called a monotone. I need hardly say that in the speaking voice there is strictly no unvaried repetition of the same note, and consequently in its exact meaning the term fnonotone can scarcely be employed in elocution. That which is usually denominated monotone is in fact an emphatic prolongation of the contmiiative tone in which the iiiflectmis are subdued as much as possible. It has been well remarked that these subdued infiections^ judiciously introduced^ especially on the lower notes of the voice, in solemn and sublime passages as well as in prayer or supplica- tion, serve to the reader or speaker the same end that the shades do with which a skilful artist sometimes invests the principal objects in his painting. lllusti'ations for Practice. I. 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, Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION 71 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 house : “ Glamis hath murdered Sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more ! — Macbeth shall sleep no more ! ” 2. Of all the youth in great Jerusalem My fame stood fairest, and the honoured seats Nearest the Ark in every synagogue Were offered me of right. And yet I sinned A sevenfold sin, corroding all the life More deadly far than thine, defying cure But for the mercy, wide and wonderful, Of God our Father. 3. The sun is in the heavens, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world. Is all too wanton and too full of gawds To give me audience : if the midnight bell Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, Sound on into the drowsy race of night ; If this same were a churchyard where we stand, And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ; Or if that surly spirit. Melancholy, Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy, thick (Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, Making that idiot. Laughter, keep men’s eyes. And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, A passion hateful to my purposes). Or if that thou could’st see me without eyes, Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Without a tongue, using conceit alone, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words, Then, in despite of brooding, watchful day, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. 4. High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 172 A7JVC*S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTLON. [Lect. X. Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers, on her kings barbaric, pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat. 5. In thoughts from the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth upon 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 ? 6. I conjure you, by the hearth profaned, by the home violated, by the canons of the living God foully spurned, save, oh ! save your country from the crime, your firesides from the contagion, and all mankind from the shame, and sin, and sorrow of this example ! The apparent monotone used on the words which are underlined will add greatly to the awe and solemnity designed to be conveyed. LECTURE XL Compound inflections or Circumflexes — Theoryof their Formation — Rising and Falling Circumflexes — Their uses in suggesting Antithesis — Illustrations — Principles of their Application where the Antithesis is expressed — Illustrations — Uses of the Circumflexes in regard to Emotional Expression — Principles that govern their Application — Illustrations — Analysis of the Range of the Inflections in the Musical Scale — Results. HAVE now to bring before your notice the last group of the inflections, viz., the compound inflections or circumflexes, as they are now generally termed. It is to Joshua Steele that we are indebted for the first attempt at a scientific analysis of these peculiar vocal waves, and a philosophical investigation of the purposes which they serve in regard to the develop- ment of the logical meaning of certain forms of sentences, as well as in reference to emotional expression. The extent and form of these compound inflections or circumflexes are, as Steele justly remarked, very various in our language ; and two or three-quarter tones more or less make little difference in the sense of their application, though it will, of course, increase or diminish the effect in degree. They are divisible into two distinct classes. The first consists of a simple falling inflection, which, after descending to a note more or less low in the musical scale, then, as it were, turns and slides upward in the scale, and ends, in fact, with a rising inflection. The name given by Steele to this peculiar inflection was the grave-acute, and to exhibit different degrees of it he adopted this mode of notation. , 1 ) I TTT 1 J it ...) , V y ^ K y Fig. 1 6 . Grave-acute, This is now called the rising circumflex. The other compound inflection consists first of a simple rise of the voice to a note more or less high in the musical scale, then turns and slides downward, ending with a falling inflection. Steele termed it the acuto-grave inflection, and represented its different degrees thus — 174 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. Fig. 17. Acuto-gvave. This is now generally called the falling circumflex. In the formation of both the rising and the falling circumflexes the following principle is to be observed : — The voice reaches the middle or turnmg point in the pronunciation of a single syllable ; but the termina- tion may be prolonged through any number of subsequent unaccented syllables. As 5^ou will see by the diagrams, the termination of a circum- flex inflection may extend to the same pitch as the commencement, or it may fall short of it, or extend beyond it ; but the intensity of the expression will of course vary with the degree of range. Now, then, let me endeavour, by the illustrations which I am about to give, to make you acquainted with the sound of these various degrees of rising and falling circumflexes, and the principles which govern their application. And the first use, and one of the most general uses, of a circumflex inflection is to suggest an antithesis to the mind, without openly expressing it in words. When we come to reflect upon it, is it not a wonderful thing that a mere peculiar inflection or turn of the voice should have the power of suggesting to the mind whole trains of ideas which are not embodied in language ? And yet such is the unques- tionable effect of a circumflex. For instance, when I pronounce this sentence with the circumflex inflections as here marked, and say^ — “ The labour of years is often insufficient for a complete reformation, and Divine help is needed to keep us in the path of virtue.” Do I not, when I say “ the labour of years ” imply that it is not the labour of lueeks or months I When I speak of “ a complete reformation.” do I not suggest — not a partial reformation ? When I assert that “ Divine help is needed,” do I not lead you to infer that the help of man is not sufficient ? And lastly, when I speak of Divine help being needed to keep us in “ the path of virtue,” do I not imply that we can tread the path of vice readily enough by ourselves ? Thus, then, you see, in this simple sentence we have had four distinct ideas suggested to our minds by these four circumflexes being used on the words marked with the sign of that peculiar inflection. These circumflexes, like the other inflections, may, as regards their uses, be classified in two divisions, viz., (i) those which serve certain purposes in the logical expression of the meaning implied or expressed of certain forms of sentences, and (2) those which aid in emotional expression. Let us take these, then, in their due order ; and, as regards the former division, I should give the following as Rule I. — When any word is introduced which suggests an antithesis without openly expressing it, such word should have emphatic force. ON ELOCUTION. I Lect. XL] and be pronounced with a circumflex inflection. An affirmative positive clause takes a falling, and a negative or contingent clause rising circumflex on the words suggesting an antithesis. Illustrations for Practice. I. Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous, Old ffieble carrions and such suffering souls That welcome wrongs : unto bad causes swear Such creatures as men doubt. 2. You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life That should be in a Roman, you do want, Or else you use not. 3. Why so can I ! So every bondman in his own hand bears The power to cancel his captivity. 4. I am debating of my present store, And by the near guess of my memory I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. 5. Never fear that ; if he be so resolved, I can o’er sway him ; for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees. Lions with toils, and men with flatterers ; But when I tell him he hates flatterers. He says he does, being then most flattered. 6. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony, Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Csesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 7. You say you are a better soldier; Let it appear so : make your vaunting true And it shall please me well. For mine own part I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 8. Remember thee? Ay ! thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? 176 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. Yea, from the table of my memory, I’ll wipe away all trivial fond record. All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book arid volume of my brain. Unmixed with baser matter. 9. Believe me, noble lord, I am a stranger here in Glo’stershire. These high, wild hills, and rough, uneven ways Draw out our miles and make them wearisome ; And I bethink me what a weary way From Ravensburg to Cotswold will be found In Ross and Willoughby wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguil’d The tediousness and process of my travel. 10. The mercy that was quick in us but late. By your own counsel is suppress’d and kill’d. You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy ; For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. II. Gentlemen, the time has now arrived when you have to perform your part in this great trial. You are now to pronounce upon a publi- cation, the truth of which is not controverted. The case is with you ; it belongs to you exclusively to decide it. His Lordship cannot control your decision ; and it belongs to you alone to say, whether or not, upon the entire matter, you conceive it evidence of guilt, or deserving of punishment. 12. Justice is not a halt and miserable object ; it is not the ineffective bauble of an Indian Pagod : it is not the portentous phantom of despair; it is not like any fabled monster formed in the eclipse of reason and found in some unhallowed grove of superstitious darkness and political dismay. No, my Lords, Justice resembles none of these ! Rule II. — When words or clauses are antithetic in meaning, and emphatic in character, the falling circumflex inflection should be used on the positive or absolute member, and the rising on the negative or relative. Lect. XI. ] ON ELOC UTION. Illustrations for Practice. 1. Seems, Madam ! nay, it is ; I know not seems. TTis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black. Nor windy suspiration of forc’d breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye. Nor the dejected ’haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, That can denote me truly. These, indeed, seem ; For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within which passeth show. These but the trappings and the suits of woe. 2 . It must be by his death, and for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him. But for the general. He would be crown’d — How that might change his nature, there’s the question It is the bright day that brings forth the adder And that craves wary walking. 3. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius.j To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs, Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards ; For Antony is but a limb of Caesar. Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius, We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar ; And in the spirit of man there is no blood : O that we then could come by Caesar’s spirit And not dismember Caesar : but alas ! Caesar must bleed for it. — And gentle friends, Let’s kill him boldly — but not wrathfully 3 Let’s carve him as a dish fit for the Gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds. 4. Cowards die many times before their death, The valiant never taste of death but once : Of all the wonders that I yet have heard. It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come. 77 M 78 A'/jVG'S college lectures [Lect. XI. 5. O Father Cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in Heaven ; If this be true, I shall see my boy again. For since the birth of Cain, the first male child. To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born ; But now will canker sorrow eat my bud. And chase the native beauty from his cheek. And so he’ll die : and, rising so again. When I shall meet him in the Court of Heaven I shall not know him ; therefore, never, never Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. 6. Thou sayest that I have many years to live, But not a minute. King, that thou canst give . Shorten my days, thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow. Thou canst help time to furrow me with age. But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage : Thy word is current with him for my death. But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 7. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. You urged me as a judge : but I had rather You would have bid me argue like a father. Oh, had it been a stranger, not my child. To smooth his fault, I should have been more mild. A partial slander sought I to avoid. And in the sentence my own life destroyed. 8. All places that the eye of Heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus : There is no virtue like necessity : Think not the King did banish thee, But thou the King : woe doth the heavier sit, Where it perceives it is but faintly borne ; Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And not the King exiled thee : or suppose Lect. XL] ON ELOCUTION. 79 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, And thou art flying to a fresher clime : Look, what thy soul holds 'dear, imagine it To lie that way thou go’st, not whence thou com’st ; Suppose the singing birds, musicians, The grass whereon thou tread’st, the presence strew’d, The flowers, fair ladies, and thy steps, no more Than a delightful measure or a dance ; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light. 9. My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time. And makes as healthful music. It is not madness That I have uttered : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace. Lay not that flattering unction to your soul. That not your trespass but my madness speaks. It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whilst rank corruption, mining all within. Infects unseen. 10. It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night ; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you, in my respect, are all the world. Then how can it be said I am alone. When all the world is here to look on me ? II. True liberal charity is wisely divided amongst many, and propor- tioned to the objects upon which it rests. It is not, it cannot be, con- fined to near relations, intimate friends, or particular favourites. These it will never neglect ; nay, to these its first attentions are naturally directed. But whatever may be its partialities to those immediately connected with us, or who love and resemble us, it cannot remain under these restrictions. The principle which gave it birth extends its influence in every possible direction. The objects which solicit the friendly aid of charity are many and various. Here we find the afflicted body, — there the grieved mind. Here a mourning desolate widow, — des- titute orphans. — Perhaps both together sitting in silent dejection, or KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XT. 180 agitated with all the violence of grief. At one time we hear the plaintive voice of the solitary mourner — at another, the united cries of a numerous starving family. Turn to the one hand, and feeble totter- ing age requests support — turn to the other hand, and the deserted infant, or neglected youth, requires a kind interposition. These, and many similar cases of urgent necessity, claim the attention and care of the compassionate and generous. 12. The true Christian spirit of moderation, of charity, of universal benevolence, has prevailed in the people, has prevailed in the clergy of all ranks and degrees, instead of those narrow principles, those bigoted passions, that furious, that implacable, that ignorant zeal, which had often done so much hurt both to the church and the state. But from the ill-understood, insignificant act of parliament you are now moved to repeal, occasion has been taken to deprive us of this inestimable advan- tage. It is a pretence to disturb the peace of the church, to infuse idle fears into the minds of the people, and make religion itself an engine of sedition. It behoves the piety, as well as the wisdom of parliament, to disappoint those endeavours. Sir, the very worst mischief that can be done to religion, is to pervert it to the purposes of faction. The most impious wars ever made were those called holy wars. He who hates another man for not being a Christian, is himself not a Christian. Chris- tianity, sir, breathes love, and peace, and goodwill to man. I now proceed to notice the principal uses of the circumflex in regard to Emotional Expression. I said in the earlier part of this Lecture that it seemed to me very marvellous that a mere compound of two opposite slides of the voice in the musical scale (such as the circumflex inflections are) should have the power of suggesting ideas to the mind without such ideas being embodied in language. Not less wonderful does it seem to me that another kind of circumflex should have the power of completely conveying to the mind of the hearer the very opposite of what the words literally signify. And yet such it must be admitted is the case, for if I use what is termed a prolonged emphatic circumflex, pitching the voice in certain keys on whatsoever words I employ such inflection, I in- stantly make them ironical^ that is, of course, I convey to the hearer that I really mean the very opposite of what the words in their gramma- tical sense import : as, for instance, when I say — “ Oh yes, he is a man of honour indeed. His words and deeds show it. He would be a gain to our society.” — No one, I should think, would like a witness to his good character to testify to it using these inflections, for the most uncultivated would at once perceive that the speaker really meant the very opposite of what he said I.ECT. XI.] ON ELOCUTION i8i When this peculiar inflection, to which the name of the prolonged emphatic circumflex has been given, is analysed, it is found to consist of the ordinary compound fall, finishing with a rising inflection, the voice reaching the second turning point in the pronunciation of the accented syllable or word. It is sometimes spoken of as the Riswg Double Wave, and is certainly one of the most expressive of the inflec- tions. For its use I should give this as Rule I. — Whenever it is designed to make any passage ironical, an emphatic prolonged circumflex inflection should be given to the words in which the irony is meant to be conveyed. Illustrations for Practice, 1. You, my lords, and fathers (As you are pleased to call yourselves), of Venice, If you sit here to guide the course of Justice; Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs That have so often laboured in your service ? Are these the wreaths of triumph you bestow On those who brought you conquest, home, and honours ? Are these the trophies I have deserved for fighting Your battles with confederated powers? 2. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of niiutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable. What private griefs they have, alas ! I know not That made them do it : they are wise and honourable And will no doubt with reason answer you. 3. Lie there ! possess the land thy valour gains, And measime at thy length our Latian plains : Such rich-deserved rewards I still bestow. When called in battle, on the vaunting foe : Thus may you build your town, and thus enjoy These realms, ye proud, contemptuous sons of Troy ! 4* Satan beheld their plight, And to his mates thus in derision called : — “ O friends ! why come not on those victors proud ? Erewhile they fierce were coming; and when we — To entertain them fair with open front And breast (what could we more ?) — propounded terms Of composition, straight they changed their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell As they would dance : yet, for a dance, they seemed KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI Somewhat extravagant and wild — perhaps For joy of offered peace ; but, I suppose, If our proposals once again were heard, We should compel them to a quick result.” 5. This is some honest fellow Who having been praised for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness and constrains the garb Quite from his nature. He can’t flatter, he An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth, An they will take it so ; if not he’s plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Harbour more craft and more corrupted ends Than twenty silly ducking servitors That stretch their duties nicely. 6. Say, that she rail ; why then I’ll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale ; Say, that she frown ; I’ll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly washed with dew ; Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word, Then I’ll commend her volubility, And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. 7. Good, my Lord, You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory Of your best graces in your mind, the which You were now running o’er ; you have scarce time To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span, To keep your earthly audit ; sure in that I deem you an ill husband, and am glad To have you therein my companion. 8. Fairly answered, A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated ; the honour of it Does pay the act of it, as i’ th’ contrary, The foulness is the punishment. — Take notice. Lords, he has a loyal breast For you have see him open’t. 9. The trade of medicine’s easiest of all : ’Tis but to study all things — everywhere — Nature and man — the great world and the small — Then leave them at haphazard still to fare. It is, you see, plainly impossible That one man should be skilled in every science. Lect. XI.] ON ELOCUTION, 183 Who learns the little that he can, does well. The secret of this art is self-reliance. A man can learn but what he can ; Who hits the moment is the man. You are well made j have common sense, And do not want for impudence ; Be fearless, others will confide no less. When you are confident of your success ; The only obstacle is indecision ; But, above all, win to yourself the women — They have their thousand weaknesses and aches, And the one cure for them is the Physician. A due consideration for the sex ^ Will teach the value of decorous seeming ; I.et but appearances be unsuspicious ^ And they are everything their Doctor wishes. 10. Sweet pastime this ! most charming occupation ! Delight indeed ! yes, transcendental rapture I In night and dew lying among the hills, In ecstasy embracing earth and heaven, To swell up till you are a kind of god — - To pierce into the marrow of the earth In a god’s fancies — all the six days’ task Of the creation in thy breast to feel — And in the pride of conscious power enjoy I know not what of bliss, — to cherish love That has no limits, but must overflow Till it loves everything that is, till earth And man’s poor nature, in the trance forgotten. Has passed away, and then the glorious hour Of intuition ending — how it ends I must not say. 1 1. And it came to pass at noon that Elijah mocked them, and said. Cry aloud : for he is a God : either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or he is on a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth and must be awaked. 12. Thy integrity got thee absolved; thy modesty drew thee out of danger ; and the innocency of thy past life saved thee ; for you meant no harm ; oh, no : your thoughts are innocent ; you have nothing to hide ; your breast is pure, stainless, all truth. Rule II. — All passages that express scorn, contempt, or reproach, take emphatic prolonged circumflexes on the principal words, the keys i 84 KING'S college lectures [Lect. XL in which the voice is pitched varying according to the dominant emotion.* Illustrations for Practice. 1. What ! shall one of us That struck the foremost man in all this world, But for supporting robbers ; shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? And sell the mighty space of our large, honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog and bay the moon Than such a Roman. 2. You say you are a better soldier ; Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well : For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 3. You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; For I am armed so strong in honesty. That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me; — For I can raise no money by vile means : 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 trash By any indirectioa 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 ? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts. Dash him to pieces ! 4. 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 you 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 livelong day with patient expectation. To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome ; * See Lecture on the Modulation of the Voice- Lect. XL] ON ELOCUTION. 185 And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made a universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath his banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in his 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 his 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 plagues That needs must light on this ingratitude. 5. All this ? ay, more : Fret till your proud heart break ; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are. And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods. You shall digest the venom of your spleen. Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, Pll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. 6. Thou Jaffler ! thou, my once lov’d, valu’d friend ! By heav’n thou li’st ; the man so call’d my friend. Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant ; Noble in his mind, and in his person lovely ; Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart : But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward. Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect ; All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee. Prithee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me. Like something baneful, that my nature’s chill’d at. 7. Life ! ask my life ! confess ! record myself A villain for the privilege to breathe. And carry up and down this cursed city A discontented and repining spirit, Burthensome to itself, a few years longer. To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art? No, this vile world and I have long been jangling And cannot part on better terms than now; When only men like thee are fit to live in’t. 8. I was born free as Ctesar ; so were you : We both have fed as well ; and we can both Endure the winter’s cold as well as he. i86 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, “ Barest thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood. And swim to yonder point ?” — Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bade him follow : so indeed he did. The torrent roared, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews ; throwing it aside. And stemming it with hearts of controversy. But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, “ Help me, Cassius, or I sink.” I, as yEneas, our great ancestor. Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber, Did I the tired Caesar ; and this man Is now become a god ; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And, when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake : ’tis true, this god did shake ; His coward lips did from their colour fly; And that same eye, whose bend does awe the world Did lose its lustre : I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas ! it cried, “ Give me some drink, Titinius,” As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world. And bear the palm alone. 9. Mock-king, I am the messenger of God, His Norman Daniel ! Mene, Mene, Tekel ! Is thy wrath Hell that I should spare to cry. Yon heaven is wrath with thee'^ Hear me again . Our saints have moved the church that moves the world, And all the Heavens, and very God, they heard : They know King Edward’s promise and thine — thine. Now bide the doom of God. Hear it through me. The realm for which thou art forsworn is cursed ; The babe enwomb’d, and at the breast is cursed ; The corpse thou ’whelmest with thine earth is cursed ; The soul who fighteth on thy side is cursed ; The seed thou sowest in thy field is cursed ; The steer wherewith thou plow’st thy fields is cursed ; The fowl that flieth o’er thy field is cursed ; And all for thee — for thee^ usurper, liar ! I.FXT. XL] ON ELOCUTION. 187 10. Poor child of earth ! and could’st thou then have borne Thy life till now without my aid ? ’Twas I That saved thee from imaginations idle ; I guarded thee with long and anxious care ; And but for me even now thou would’st have been Idling in other worlds ! Why sittest thou there, Lingering in hollow cave or sifted rock, Dull as the moping owl ? Why, like the toad. Dost thou support a useless life, deriving Subsistence from damp moss and dripping stone ? 11. Do you think to frighten me? you! Do you think to turn me from any purpose that I have, or any course I am resolved upon, by reminding me of the solitude of this place and there being no help near? who am here alone designedly? If I had feared you, should I not have avoided you ? If I feared you, should I be here in the dead of night, telling you to your face what I am going to tell ? But I tell you nothing until you go back to that chair — except this once again. Do not dare to come near me — not a step nearer. I have something lying here that is no love trinket ; and sooner than endure your touch once more, I would use it on you — and you know it while I speak — with less reluctance than I would on any other creeping thing that lives. 12. As a private man, you are unworthy of my anger, beneath con- tempt. In that capacity you have every claim to compassion that can arise from misery and distress. The condition you are reduced to would disarm a private enemy of his resentment, and leave no consola- tion to the most vindictive spirit, but that such an object as you are would disgrace the dignity of revenge. But in the relation you have borne to this country, you have no title to indulgence ; and if I had followed the dictates of my own opinion, I never should have allowed you the respite of a moment. I should scorn to keep terms with a man who preserves no measures with the public. Neither the abject submis- sion of deserting his post in the hour of danger, nor even the sacred shield of cowardice, should protect him. I would pursue him through life, and try the last exertion of my abilities to preserve the perishable infamy of his name, and make it immortal ! I have now finished all that I have to say with regard to the general principles that govern the application of the inflections of the voice to reading and speaking, and I have only now to mention some points that have reference to the several classes of the inflections. In regard to a simple rising inflection, the beginning, relatively to the end, is low ; of a simple falling inflection, it is relatively high. It is to be noticed, too, that the inflection always begins on the accented syllable, which is thus pitched, it may be said, comparatively low for a rising, high for a falling inflection ; and that the rise or fall is continued directly upward or downward from the accented syllable through whatever number of secondarily accented syllables may follow. i88 AGING’S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XT. I have spoken in general terms of simple rising and falling inflections, as well as of rising and falling compound inflections or circumflexes ; but it must be always borne in mind that in proportion to the degree in which the voice rises or falls in the musical scale, much of the logical as well as the emotional expression of a sentence depends. The final inflection of a clause or sentence, rising or falling through the interval only of a semitone, is chiefly plaintive, and expresses melancholy, dejection, 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 characterises 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 (ora major third), it expresses 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 intervals it expresses the strongest conviction, command, reprehension, hate, and all the sterner passions. A similar increase of meaning or emotion characterises the extent to which the rising or falling circumflexes may be carried in those cases where they are specially applicable. . Those students who may desire to study more fully the various points of analogy existing between the music of song and the music of speech, will find them very carefully and minutely considered and copiously illustrated in M. De Pradel’s enlarged edition of the Abbe Thibout’s Action Oratoire., ou Traite Theorique et Pratique de la IDeclaination., pour la Chaire^ pour le Barreau, et a V usage de tous ceux qiii lisent en Public^ ou qui dlhitent un discours quelconque^ published in 1846. LECTURE XII. Modulation of the Human Voice — Explanation of the term Modulation when used in reference to Reading and Speaking — The views of Walker, Sheridan, and Bell — The Rev. G. Sandlands on a mode of developing the Sense of Modulation in Speech — Illustrations of Different Keys in Modulation — General Rules for the Modulation of the Voice. AVING finished the subject of the Inflections of the Voice, I have now to bring before your notice what is termed the Modulation of the Voice, that is, a knowledge of the various keys of the speaking voice in which those inflections are pitched, and the principles on which, from time to time, they are varied. A person may use quite proper inflections in reading and speaking, and yet, from keeping entirely to one key, or shifting from key to key improperly, without any system or method, possibly resorting to high keys when he should take low, or vice-versa^ may wholly fail to produce the effect he would desire ; nay, it may be, the very opposite effect would be the result. Before I proceed further in the subject, let me guard you against a mistake that is frequently made, and that is, confounding the terms “ high ” and “ low ” in modulation of the voice, with “ loud ” and “ soft ” as regards the variation of the voice in power. The distinction between the two must be always borne in mind. Those who are acquainted in the slightest degree with the rudiments of music, will know perfectly well that the terms high and loud and low and soft are by no means necessarily connected together; that we may sing a very high note in the very softest manner {pianissi?no), and sing a very low note with the fullest power of the voice (fo7'tissimo ) ; just (to use Walker’s illustration) as a smart stroke on a bell produces exactly the same note as a slight one, though it is considerably louder. Indeed, to make this matter quite clear to those who are wholly unacquainted with music, I cannot do better than resort again to another illustration given by Walker, who says, that when we speak of a high key, we mean that which we instinctively and naturally take when we wish to be heard at a distance, as the same degree of force is more audible in a high than in a low tone, from the acuteness of the former and the gravity of the latter ; and that a low tone is that we naturally assume when we are speaking KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 190 to a person at a small distance, and wish not to be heard by others ; as a low tone with the same force is less audible than a high one ; if, there- fore, we raise our voice to the pitch we should naturally use if we were calling to a person at a great distance, and at the same time exert so small a degree of force as to be heard only by a person who is near us, we shall have an example of a high note in a soft tone ; and, on the con- trary, if we suppose ourselves speaking to a person at a small distance, and wish to be heard by those who are at a greater, in this situation we shall naturally sink the voice into a low note, and throw just as much force or loudness into it as is necessary to make it audible to the persons at a distance. This is exactly the manner in which actors speak the speeches that are spoken aside. The low tone conveys the idea of speaking to a person near us, and the loud tone enables us to convey this idea to a distance. By this experiment we perceive that high and loud, and soft and low, though most frequently associated, are essen- tially distinct from each other. Thomas Sheridan (the father of the great orator and statesman, the Right Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, who doubtless ow^ed much of his fame and eminence to the thorough training in Elocution which he received in early life) , very truly observes, that if a speaker does not know how to pitch his voice properly, he can never have the due management of it, and his utterance will be painful to himself and irksome to others ; and further, that it may be fairly said that every speaker, who is not corrupted by bad habit, has at least three pitches in his voice, the high, the low, and the middle pitch. The middle pitch is that which is used in ordinary discourse, from which he either rises or falls according as the matter of his discourse, or the emotions of his mind, require. This middle pitch, therefore, is wTat ought to be generally used, for two reasons — first, because the organs of the voice are stronger, and more pliable in this pitch, from being most frequently used ; and, secondly, because it is more easy to rise from that pitch to high, or descend to low, with regular proportion. Most persons, through want of skill and practice, when they read or speak in public, fall into one or other of the extremes. Either through timidity or diffidence they use the low pitch, in which they are scarcely, or not at all, heard by those who are remotely placed, and even if heard, it is with so much trouble to the listeners as soon to weary attention ; or if speakers aim at avoiding this fault, they run into the high pitch, which is productive of consequences equally bad. The organs of the voice in this unusual pitch are soon wearied, and languor and hoarseness ensue ; and as the reason for continuing it will be equally strong during the whole discourse as for the first setting out in it, the speaker must lose all the benefits which arise from variety of pitch, and (to use Sheridan’s own words) “ fall into a disgusting monotony.” The prevalence of this practice arises from a common mistake in those who speak for the first time in a large room and before a numerous auditory. They conclude it to be impossible they should be heard in their ordinary pitch of voice, and therefore change it to a higher. Thus they confound two very distinct things, making high and low the same Lect. XI L] ON ELOCUTION. IQI with loud and soft. Loud and soft in speaking is equivalent to the forte and piano in music ; it only refers to the different degrees of volume and power of voice used in the same key, whereas high and low imply a change of key. A man may speak louder or softer in the same key ; when he speaks higher or lower he changes his key. So that the business of every one is to proportion the volume or loudness of voice to the size of the room and the number of his auditory, but not necessarily to alter the pitch. It is evident that he who begins in this high pitch on a supposition that he could not otherwise be heard, must for the very same reason continue in that pitch throughout ; and they who set out under this delusion are apt to continue in it all their lives, having but little chance of being informed of their error. So that whenever they have to deliver anything in public, they, of course, fall into that strained and unnatural key ; and (says Sheridan) this error is nowhere more observable than in the usual manner of reading divine service. May I ask if this remark is less applicable now than it was when Slieridan wrote, more than a hundred years ago ? The volume of sound necessary to fill even a large room is much smaller than is generally imagined ; and to the being well heard, and clearly understood, a good and distinct articulation contributes far more than mere power of voice. You may rest assured, that if a man with a naturally weak voice be only possessed of this qualification, he has infinite advantages over the loudest voice devoid of clearness of articulation. He who delivers himself in a moderate pitch, whenever the logical meaning of his subject, or its emotional expression, demands that his voice should rise to a higher or sink to a lower key, does it with ease and due proportion, and produces the effects which are to be expected from such properly regulated change and agreeable variety ; whilst he who takes a high pitch cannot rise upon occasions without running into a discordant strain, nor sink with any rule ot proportion to guide him. Those persons who, to avoid this, run into the opposite extremes, and begin in too low a pitch, err indeed on the safer side, but are equally distant from the point of truth. It is true it is more easy to rise gradually and proportionately than to descend ; but while they remain in that low key, it will appear equally unnatural and more languid than the other, and they will be very apt throughout their discourse to run chiefly into that key with which they first set out I think Sheridan well sums up the subject when he says the true, safe, and sure rule is (unless upon some extraordinary occasions, such, for instance, as some special form of exordium), always to begin in the middle key of speech, and if that should not prove strong enough, it should be developed and strengthened by practice, on right principles, and by proper management of the breath, alike as regards the functions of inspiration and expiration, so as to avoid all straining ; for he who strains his voice will scarcely be able to articulate well. The office of articulation (justly remarks Sheridan) is of a very delicate nature, and requires that the organs which perform it should not be disturbed or suffer any violence, which must always be the case when the voice is 192 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. unnaturally forced. The golden rule for a speaker to observe, is never to produce a greater volume of voice than he can afford without pain to himself or any extraordinary effort. Whilst he does this, the other organs of speech will be at liberty to discharge their several offices with ease, and he will always have his voice under proper control. But whenever he trangresses these bounds, he gives up the reins, and has no longer the management of his voice under his command ; and it will ever be the safest way, too, to keep well within his compass rather than at any time to go to its utmost limit, which is a dangerous experiment, and never justifiable but upon giving utterance to some unusually powerful emotion, upon some extraordinary occasion, demanding its expression. Sheridan closes his dissertation in regard to the modulation of the voice with two rules : one for giving strength and power to the voice in its ordinary pitch, the other for adjusting the proper loudness or volume of voice proportioned to the size of the room and the number of the auditory. His first* rule, for giving volume and power to the voice, is this : any one, who, through habit, has fallen into a weak utterance, cannot hope suddenly to change it ; he must do it by degrees and by constant practice. Let him therefore exercise himself daily in reading, reciting, or speaking in the hearing of a friend, and this, too, in a large room. At first his friend should be placed at such a distance only as the speaker can easily reach and be audible and distinct in his usual manner of speaking. Afterwards his friend should gradually increase the distance, and the speaker will in the same manner increase the volume of his voice ; for the method of increasing by degrees is easy in this, as in everything else, when sudden transitions are impracticable, and every new acquisition of power enables one the better to go on to the next degree. Sheridan’s second rule for acquiring a proper degree of volume and power of voice, proportioned to the size of the room and the number of the audience, is this : let the speaker, after having looked round the assembly, fix his eyes on that part of his auditory which is farthest from him, and he will almost mechanically increase the volume of his voice so that it may reach them. This is what we constantly practice in common discourse, for we always proportion the loudness or softness of voice according to the distance we are from the person to whom we are speaking. But still the speaker must take care not to go beyond the proper pitch of his voice in order to do this, but only to add increased degrees of volume or loudness in proportion to the distance. He therefore who sets out in a higher key than is natural or proper to the occasion, the sentiment, or the emotion contained in the language he is uttering, in order that he may be heard by the most distant, may be justly said not to speak his speech, but to bawl it.* Such, however, is the nature of the human voice, that to begin in the extremes of high and low are not equally dangerous. The voice naturally slides into a higher tone when we want to speak louder, but not so easily into a lower tone when we would speak more softly. * See Lecture V. in Sheridan’s “ Lectures on Elocution,” qtli Edition, 1762. Lect. XIL] ON ELOCUTION. 193 Experience shows us that we can raise our voice at pleasure to any pitch it is capable of ; but the same experience tells us that it requires infinite art and practice to bring the voice to a lower key when it is once raised too high. It ought, therefore, to be a first principle with all public readers and speakers, rather to begin under the common level of their voice than above it. The attention of an auditory at the commence- ment of a lecture or oration makes the softest accents of the speaker audible, at the same time that it affords a happy occasion for intro- ducing a variety of voice, without which every address must soon tire. A repetition of the same subject a thousand times over is not more tire- some to the understanding than a monotonous delivery of the most varied subject to the ear. Poets, to produce variety, alter the structure of their verse, and rather hazard uncouthness and discord than sameness. Prose writers change the style, turn, and structure of their periods, and sometimes throw in exclamations, and sometimes interrogations, to rouse and keep alive the attention ; but all this art is entirely thrown away, if the reader does not enter into the spirit of his author, and by a similar kind of genius render even variety itself more various; if he does not, by an alteration in his voice, manner, tone, gesture, loudness, softness, quickness, slowness, adopt every change of which the subject is susceptible. Every one, therefore, who would acquire variety of tone in public reading or speaking, must avoid as the greatest evil a loud and vociferous beginning ; and for that purpose it would be prudent in a reader or speaker to adapt his voice as if only to be heard by the person who is nearest to him ; if his voice has natural strength, and the subject anything impassioned in it, a higher and louder tone will insensibly steal on him ; and his greatest address must be directed to keeping it within bounds. For this purpose it will be frequently necessary for him to recall his voice, as it were, from the extremities of his auditory, and direct it to those who are nearest to him. This it will be proper to do almost at the beginning of every paragraph in reading, and at the introduction of every part of the subject in discourse. Nothing will so powerfully work on the voice, as supposing ourselves conversing at different intervals with different parts of the audience. Speaking broadly and generally, a change in the pitch of the inflec- tions takes place, or, in other words, there is a transition of key in the modulation of the speaking voice always required for the purpose of marking the distinction between appeal or interrogations from their responses, and general statements from inferences or corollaries. A change in the key, too, always marks the introduction of passages which are quotations ; and it is specially required to indicate the commence- ment of a new subject or a new division of a subject, or any change in the character of the speakers in a dialogue. A different key (a lower one generally) is necessary whenever similes, metaphors, or othei figures of speech are introduced. Every change of passion, emotion, or sentiment is always shown by a change to the appropriate key ; and when we really feel such passion, emotion, or sentiment. Nature has her own special keys for each, which she will not fail to make us employ KJNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 19+ rightly. Passages, too, that are parenthetic, explanatory, or subordi- nate, should never be read in the same keys as those which are primary or important. Mr. Melville Bell, of Edinburgh, speaking of what he terms “ Harmony of Modulation,” observes (I think, very sensibly) that a harmofiy of modulation must prevail in the reading of parts that are syntactically connected^ especially when they are separated in composition by intervening clauses or sentences. The subjective and predicative clauses should always stand out in correspondent modulation from the circumstantial passages by which they are frequently separated and broken up. These interpolating clauses will generally be pronounced in a lower key of modulation than the principal clauses of a sentence ; but they may require a higher key : whatever their relative modulation, it must always be distinctive from that of the subject and predicate.” The authors who have written on this subject during the last hundred years have, in general, taken five keys as representing the range of the speaking voice in its modulation, which they have represented as rising from the lowest key to the highest, in the following manner : — 5 4 3 2 I Highest key. Higher key. Middle key. -Lower key. Lowest key. The middle key (marked 3) is the one that is most frequently employed. It is the key of our ordinary conversation, when no par- ticular emotion or feeling governs our minds ; and the other keys are not absolutely fixed, but considered only as relative to this middle key. When we become animated, earnest, or energetic in our speaking or reading, the voice usually ascends to a higher key, and in all the strongest manifestations of what we may term the exciting passions and emotions, such as courage, defiance, triumph, joy, &c. (as opposed to the depressing^ such as sorrow, awe, dread, &c., which express them- selves in the lower keys), the voice ascends in general to the highest keys. The lower key is usually employed to vary the uniformity of the middle key, and is the one in which parenthetic, subordinate, and explanatory passages are usually read or spoken. The lowest key of all is chiefly employed in passages characterised by extreme solemnity or awe. In a very useful little work by the Rev. J. R Sandlands, entitled “The Voice and Public Speaking,”''" which contains some excellent hints on the management of the vocal and speech organs, he advises that for the purpose of training the ear, as well as the voice, to pass readily from what he terms one “key-tone” to another, it may often be desirable for the student to have recourse to the aid afforded by a piano. Mr. Sandlands says : — “ The power of acquiring the key-tone and that of modulation, passing from one key-tone to another, enter very largely * Ilodder & Stoughton, Paternoster Row. Price 33. Lect. XIL] ON ELOCUTION. 195 into the cultivation of the speaking voice. There are three principal key-tones. These are the high, low, and middle key-tones. Between these tones, as well as above and below them, there is a great variety. The speaker should be able to fall on any tone the moment he has it in his mind, and he should also be able to pass easily from any one to any other. Now it is a matter of experience that the voice, when not under control, will readily pass from a low note to a high one. The contrary can only be accomplished by a cultivated voice. It is a very common occurrence for a speaker to rise higher and higher as he proceeds, especially if he warms to his subject, till he finds himself exhausted with the effort of speaking. He does not know what is wrong. He stops, takes a little water, begins again, and finds himself in the same predicament. It is unpleasant and very fatiguing. The truth is, his voice is not under control. It runs away with him. It is just as if he were riding an unbroken steed that will not brook bit and curb. What is to be done is obvious. He must break it in. “ And now for the process. It is somewhat difficult to describe, but we shall, perhaps, be able to accomplish something. It may here be remarked that the exercises help each other. They accomplish their specific purpose and something more, so that if the exercises have been faithfully and diligently practised, the work now will not be beyond our power. “ If we can take a single word and pronounce it to any key-tone, and with any degree of softness or loudness, we can do the same with a sentence ; and if with a sentence, with a series also. Our object, then, is simplified. We will practise on one word. “ In order to acquire the power of choosing our key-tone and changing it at pleasure, we must give our ear a little training, as well as our voice. A good exercise is this : — Sit down to the piano. Strike any note within the compass of your voice. Take the hand off the piano and let the sound die out. Then sing the note from memory. Strike another note at any interval, so long as it is within the compass of your voice, and sing it in the same manner. Continue the exercise on different notes. Test yourself by striking the note while singing, whether you are right. This exercise might be varied, and withal rendered useful for other purposes by holding out the note as long as possible. The object is twofold — to train the ear to appreciate the difference between high and low notes, and also to acquire the facility of passing from one key-tone to another. We must not forget to take in the breath very deeply, and the mouth should be well open for the open vowels that are sung. The exercise should be varied by singing one syllable and now another. “ The syllable kah is a good one, as its tendency is to open the mouth. Ska again, is a useful syllable, as by forcibly articulating the and k the ‘ clear shock of the glottis ’ is produced. This exercise is nothing unless it is gymnastic. It must be energetic. Gentle exercise, whatever some may say, is, for our purpose, of no use whatever. ... I do not know a more useful exercise than this, and I earnestly advise the student to practise it well. 196 JCING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. “ When this exercise has been faithfully practised and considerable progress made, the student may proceed with this one : — Take a list of words with a full vowel sound, as, now, thou, plough ; fall, tall, small ; to7ie, moan, cone ; toil, spoil, coil ; far, tar, car ; park, dark, shark; boy, toy, coy ; fame, name, shame, &.C., &c., and repeat them very slowly in succession. Do this as loudly as possible on the lowest key-tone of your voice. Elongate the vowel sounds as much as you can. Pay special attention to the consonants, and hit them, so to speak, very smartly on the head. Don’t be afraid. Exaggerate the powers of the final consonants. Let each word stand out and apart from the other. “ After practising on the lowest key-tone, take it on the highest, and then on the middle. It will not be advisable to do more than these three for some time ; but when the ear has become quite accustomed to them, and the voice can take them up readily, the intermediate key- tones, and the very highest and the very lowest, may be practised. “ Work this up well and effectively ; then take a single word — any word will do — and put it through the key-tones. Modulation, which is certainly one of the sweetest charms of oratory, as it is of music, will, after this, become natural and comparatively easy. This is the chief end to be gained by the exercises we have been describing. It cannot, of course, be attained all at once. It comes as the result of practice. It seems to me the greatest absurdity to talk of, and advise, the speaking and reading of certain and certain pieces, in such and such key-tones, until the voice can do it. Fit the voice, by training, for its work, and it v/ill naturally seek the work to do. Mr. Spurgeon, I think, it is who compares a monotonous speaker to a drummer beating constantly on the same part of his drum. He says, that just as the drummer soon wears a hole though the drum-head, so the speaker very soon wearies his throat with speaking. The comparison is so far just ; but only so far. It would be possible for a speaker, with a trained voice, to speak for any length of time, if he chose, on the same key-tone and feel no injury. He would not do it, however ; for his voice would naturally seek variation in the power of modulation which it had acquired. But the comparison is true in another sense. The monotonous speaker very soon beats a hole, if we may so say, through the drum of the ears of his audience. This is a more serious matter. A dull, heavy, unvaried tone of voice tells very soon and very unmistakably on an audience. It tires, wearies, and disgusts an audience beyond measure. The remedy is here. It is in the power of modulation. It is worth the while then, as it is within the reach of us, to set to in good earnest and acquire it. “ There is, however, another feature. Speakers often experience in their discourses, as well written as extejnpore, that certain and certain passages should be spoken in a different key-tone from certain and certain others. They feel, at least, something like this. Now the fact of having acquired the power of speaking in any key-tone at will, and passing from one to another, will suggest the propriety of determining the key-tone in which every passage, or part of a passage, should be spoken. Hence it follows that no speaker or reader should ever think Lect. XIL] ON ELOCUTION 197 of beginning to speak or read without determining his key-tone. The character of that to which he is to give expression will determine this for him. Speaking generally, solemn subjects will suggest low key-tones, and less serious subjects higher key-tones. But here there is large room for the exercise of discretion. The speaker will not, if he is wise, as a rule, speak in public without having first well digested his matter and determined its character. It is impossible to convey clearly to others Jhat which is hazy to ourselves. Clear ideas alone can be intelligibly imparted. The reader is in a different position. I do not say better. It is quite within his power to digest hfs matter and determine his key-tones beforehand. This he should always make a point of doing. It does not matter how simple the character of the piece may be, this must never be omitted. I have little sympathy with those who think they can do anything off-hand. If reading and speaking are worth doing at all, they are worth doing well. To do things well takes time and involves the preparation of matter and manner. I do not, therefore, advise that these things should be done with the least trouble possible, but with the most that can be given to them. A reader therefore should, in my opinion, practise beforehand that which he is going to give in public. He should go over it a number of times with different tones, and be well satisfied that those ujDon which he has fixed are the best. This involves, as is readily seen, very much labour ; but unless we are disposed to bestow it, we should be careful to consider whether we should not act more wisely by ceasing to make an infliction upon our hearers. I hope I shall not be considered harsh when I make these remarks, but rather be credited with a desire of prompting ourselves to do our work in the best way possible.” * Having now, I hope, said enough in regard to the theory of the modulation of the speaking voice and the principles by which it is governed to make the subject quite clear to you, I shall next give you a summary of them in a few general rules, followed by illustrations for practice. I shall endeavour to simplify this matter as much as possible by using at first the following signs to indicate the various keys in which the selected passages should be read, the inflections, of course, being governed by the principles contained in the rules given in my three preceding Lectures. M. will stand for the middle key; H. for the higher, and HH. for the highest keys ; while L. will signify the lower, and LL. the lowest keys. As I did in the case of the inflections, I will take those rules in modulation first in order which have reference to the expression of the logical meaning of a sentence. Rule I. — Clauses which are of a parenthetic nature, and important in their character, should be read or spoken in a lower key in modu- lation, and generally in slower time, than the other clauses of the sentence. Sandlands on “The Voice and Public Speaking,” pp. 1 19-129. KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. lllustratiofis for Fraciice. 1. (M) If, where these rules not far enough extend (L) (Since rules were made but to promote their end), (M) Some lucky license answer to the full Th’ intent proposed, that license is a rule. 2. (M) If there’s a Power above us (L) (x\nd that there is, all nature cries aloud Through all her works), (M) he must delight in virtue; (H) And that which he delights in must be happy. 3. (M) For one end, one much-neglected use. Are riches worth our care (L) (for nature’s wants Are few, and without opulence supplied) ; (M) This noble end is to produce the soul ; To show the virtues in the fairest light ; (H) And make liumanity the minister Of bounteous Providence. 4. (M) On a rock whose haughty brow Frowns o’er old Conway’s foamy flood ; Rob’d in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood (L) (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream’d like a meteor to the troubled air) ; (M) And with a master’s hand, and prophet’s fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 5. (M) To Pandemonium the summons call’d By place or choice the worthiest : they anon With hundreds and with thousands trooping came Attended : all access was throng’d ; the gates And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall (L) (Though like a cover’d field where champions bold Wont ride in arm’d, and at the Soldan’s chair Defied the best of Paynim chivalry To mortal combat or career with lance), (M) Thick swarm’d, both on the ground, and in the air Brushed with the hiss of rustling wings. 6. (i\I) The bliss of man (L) (could pride that blessing find) (M) Is, not to act or think beyond mankind. 7. (M) Woe then apart, (L) ( if woe apart can be From mortal man,) (M) and fortune at our nod. The gay, rich, great, triumphant, and august. What are they ? The most happy, (L)' (strange to say,) (M) Convince me most of human misery. Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 199 8. (M) And now, As though ’twere yesterday, as though it were The hour just flown, that morn with all its sounds (L) (For those old Mays had thrice the life of these') (M) Rings in mine ears. 9. (H) I.o ! they come. The loathsome waters in their rage ! And with their roar make wholesome nature dumb ! The forest’s trees (L) (coeval with the hour When Paradise upsprung. Ere Eve gave Adam knowledge for her dower, Or Adam his first hymn of slavery sung), (H) So massy, vast, yet green in their old age, Are overtopped. Their summer blossoms by the surges lopped, Which rise, and rise, and rise. Vainly we look up to the lowering skies (L) (Alas ! they meet the seas !) (H) They shut out God from our beseeching eyes. 10. (M) Signors, your pardon ; this is mockery. Juggle no more with that poor remnant which, A moment since, while yet it had a soul (L) (A soul by whom you have increased your empire And made your power as great as was his glory), (M) You banish’d from his palace, and tore down From his high place with such relentless coldness ; And now (L) (when he can neither know these honours, Nor would accept them if he could), you. Signors, (M) Purpose, with idle and superfluous pomps. To make a pageant over what you trampled. 11. (M) Though religion removes not all the evils of life ; though it promises no continuance of undisturbed prosperity (L) (which indeed it were not salutary for man always to enjoy), (M) yet if it mitigates the evils which necessarily belong to our state, it may justly be said to give rest to them who labour and are heavy laden. 12. (M) It often happens that those are the best people whose characters are most injured by slanderers (L) (and who so great or good that slander dares not assail?), (M) as we usually find that to be the sweetest fruit which the birds have been pecking at. Note. — But if the parenthetic clause be of a comparatively unim- portant character, it may be given in a higher key and somewhat quicker time. (M) “Pride, (H) in some particular disguise or other, (M) is the most ordinary spring of human action.” 200 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. xir. Rule II. — Antithetic portions of sentences should always be rxiarked by the voice being modulated into an appropriate change of key, as well as opposite inflections. Illustrations for Practice. 1. “ (M) Hereafter, in that world where all are pure, We two may meet before high God, and thou Wilt spring to me and claim me thine, and know I am thine husband, (L) not a smaller soul, Nor Lancelot, nor another.” 2. O Happiness ! our being’s end and aim ; Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate’er thy name : That something still which prompts th’ eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die ; Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O’erlook’d, seen double, by the fool and wise. Plant of celestial seed ! if dropt below, Say, in what mortal soil thou deign’st to grow ? Fair op’ning to some court’s propitious shine. Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? Twin’d with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, Or reap’d in iron harvests of the field ? 3. Where grows ? — where grows it not ? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil ; Fix’d to no spot is happiness sincere, ’Tis nowhere to be found, or ev’rywhere; ’Tis never to be bought, but always free. And fled from monarchs, St. John ! dwells with thee. 4. Ask of the learned the way ; the learn’d are blind ; This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind : Some place the bliss in action, some in ease. Those call it Pleasure, and Contentment these ; Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain : Some, swell’d to gods, confess e’en Virtue vain : Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. To trust in everything, or doubt of all. 5. But mutual wants this Happiness increase ; All Nature’s difPrence keeps all Nature’s peace. Condition, circumstance, is not the thing ; Bliss is the same in subject or in king ; In who obtain defence, or who defend. In him who is, or him who finds a friend, Heav’n breathes through every member of the whole One common blessing as one common soul. 6. But Fortune’s gifts if each alike possest. And each were equal, must not all contest ? Lect. XII.] ON' ELOCUTION. 201 If then to all men Happiness was meant, God in externals could not place content. Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, And these be happy call’d, unhappy those : But Heav’n’s just balance equal will appear. While those are plac’d in hope and these in fear ; Not present good or ill the joy or curse, But future views of better, or of worse. O sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise, By mountains pil’d on mountains, to the skies ? Heav’n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 7. Discomfortable cousin, know’st thou not That when the searching eye of Heaven is hid Behind the globe that lights the lower world. Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen. In murders and in outrage bloody here? But when from under this terrestrial ball He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines. And darts his light through ev’ry guilty hole. Then murders, treasons, and detested sins. The cloak of night being pluck’d from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves. 8. Not all the water in the rough, rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king ; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord. For every man that Bolingbroke hath press’d To lift sharp steel against our golden crown, God for His Richard hath in heavenly pay A glorious angel : then if angels fight, Weak men must fall; for Heaven still guards the right. 9. Whatever crazy sorrow saith. No life that breathes with human breath Hath ever truly long’d for death. ’Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh ! life, not death, for which we pant. More life and fuller that we want. 10. But through the palm and plantain, hark, a voice ! Not such as would have .been a lover’s choice, In such an hour to break the air so still ; No dying night-breeze harping o’er the hill, Striking the strings of nature, rock and tree. Those best and earliest lyres of harmony. With echo for their chorus ; but the alarm Of the loud war-whoop to dispel the charm. 202 KhVG^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 1 1. The proposition is peace. Not peace through the medium of war ; not peace to be hunted through the labyrinth of intricate and endless negotiations ; not peace to arise out of universal discord, fomented from principle in all parts of the empire ; not peace to depend on the juridical determination of perplexing questions, or the precise marking of the shadowy boundaries of a complex government : it is simple peace ; sought in its natural course, and in its ordinary haunts. It is peace ; sought in the spirit of peace, and laid in principles purely pacific. I pro- pose — by removing the ground of the difference, and by restoring the former unsuspecting confidence of the colonies in the mother country — to give permanent satisfaction to your people ; and (far from a scheme of ruling by discord) to reconcile them to each other, in the same act, and by the bond of the very same interest, which reconciles them to British government. 1 2. Man was made after the image of God ; and the human form divine, the seat of so many heavenly faculties, graces, and virtues, exhibits a temple not unworthy of its Maker. Men, in their collective capacity, and united as nations, have displayed a wide field of exertion and of glory. The globe hath been covered with monuments of their power, and the voice of history transmits their renown from one genera- tion to another. But when we pass from the living world to the dead, what a sad picture do we behold ! — the fall and desolation of human nature, the ruins of man, the dust and ashes of many generations scattered over the earth ! The high and the low, the mighty and the mean, the king and the cottager, lie blended together, without any order ! A few feet of earth contain the ashes of him who conquered the globe ; the shadows of the long night stretch over all alike : the monarch of dis- order, the great leveller of mankind, la3^s all on the bed of clay in equal meanness ! In the course of time the land of desolation becomes still more desolate ; the things that were, become as if they had never been. Babylon is a ruin, her heroes are dust ; not a trace remains of the glory that shone over the earth, and not a stone to tell where the master of the world is laid ! Rule III. — When in the course of a passage interrogation occurs, followed by its answer, the clause in which such answer is contained, if strictly subordinate to the question, is generally given in a lower key of modulation. llliistratio7is for Practice. 1. (M) What must the King do now? Must he submit? (L) The King shall do it : (M) must he be deposed ? (L) The King shall be contented ; (M) must he lose The name of King? (L) why let it go. 2. Say is my Kingdom lost ? Why ’twas my care, And what loss is it to be rid of care? Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God, Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 203 We'll serve him too and be his fellow so. Revolt our subjects? That we cannot mend; They break their faith to God, as well as us. 3. Oh, how hast thou with jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful? Why so didst thou : or seem they grave and learned ? Why so didst thou : come they of noble family ? Why so didst thou : seem they religious ? Why so didst thou : or are they spare in diet. Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger ; Constant in spirit, nor swerving with the blood. Garnish’d and deck’d in modest compliment. Not working with the ear, but with the eye, And but in purged judgment trusting neither? Such and so finely boulted didst thou seem. 4. What ! shall one of us That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers ; shall we now. Contaminate our fingers with base bribes. And sell the mighty space of our large honours, For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I had rather be a dog and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. 5. Must I budge ? Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods ! You shall digest the venom of your spleen. Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, Fll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter. When you are waspish. 6. Heavens ! And think’st thou, Coriolanus, Will stoop to thee for safety? No, my safeguard Is in myself, a bosom void of fear. It is an act of cowardice and baseness To seize the very time my hands are fettered By the strong chain of former obligation. The safe, sure moment to insult me. 7. What would I more, proud Roman ? This, I would : Fire the curs’d forest, where these Roman wolves Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them, Extirpate from the bosom of this land A false, perfidious people, who, beneath The mask of freedom, are a combination Against the liberty of human kind — The genuine seed of outlaws and of robbers. 204 KING'S COLLEGE LEC TULLES [Lect. XII. 8. Life ? Ask my life ? Confess, record myself A villain, for the privilege to breathe ? And carry up and down this hated city A discontented and repining spirit. Burdensome to itself a few years longer, To lose at last, it may be, in a base quarrel, For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art? No ; this vile world and I have long been jangling. And cannot part on better terms than now. When only men like thee are fit to live in’t. 9. Hear me ! oh, hear me ! am I not Thy worshipper, thy priest, thy servant ? Yea all these I am. Have I not gazed On thee both at thy rise and fall. And bow’d my head beneath thy midday beams, When my eye dared not meet thee ? Have I not watch’d for thee, and after thee. And pray’d to thee, and fear’d thee ? Thou knowest I have. Have I not asked of thee, And thou hast answered ? But Only to thus much. While I speak he sinks — And leaves his beauty, not his knowledge, To the delighted West, which revels in Its hues of dying glory. Yet what is Death, so it be but glorious ? ’Tis a sunset ; And mortals may be happy to resemble The gods but in decay. 10. Have I a tongue to doom my brother’s death. And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? My brother kill’d no man, his fault was thought. And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him ? Who, in my wrath, Kneel’d at my feet, and bade me be advised ? Who spoke of brotherhood ? Who spoke of love ? Who told me how the poor soul did forsake The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me ? Who told me, in the field at Tewkesbury, When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, And said, “ Dear brother, live and be a king”? Who told me when we both lay in the field. Frozen almost to death, how he did wrap me Even in his garments, and did give himself All thin and naked to the numb, cold night Not one. — Not one would beg his life. All this from my remembrance brutish wrath Sinfully pluck’d, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind. Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION 205 1 1. Are the oppressors and the oppressed so reconciled to each other that no trace of enmity remains ? Or, is it in reason, or in common sense, to claim a prescriptive right, — not to the fruits of an ancient and forgotten crime, committed long ago, and traceable in all its conse- quences — but to a series of new violences — of fresh enormities, to cruelties — continued — repeated ; and of which every individual instance inflicted a fresh calamity, and constituted a fresh, a separate, and substantive crime ? Certainly not ; — and I cannot conceive that, in refusing to sanction the continuance of such a system, the House will feel itself, in the smallest degree, impairing the respect due to the establishments of antiquity, or shaking the foundations of the British Constitution. . 12. They tell us, sir, that we are weak — “unable to cope with so formidable an adversary ! ” But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally 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 backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies 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. 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. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just Power who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. Note. — To this rule there is, however, an exception, for if the answer contains some new matter of special importance to the general meaning of the sentence, then such answer should be read in a higher key and stronger tone. (L) Must we but weep o’er days more blest ? (M) Must we but blush? (H) Our fathers bled ! (H) Are they Hebrews? (L) So am I. (H) Are they Israelites ? (L) So am I. (H) Are they the seed of Abraham? (L) So am I. (H) Are they ministers of Christ? (HH) I am more. (H) Art thou poor? (HH) Show thyself active and industrious, peace- able and contented. (H) Art thou wealthy? (HH) Show thyself bene- ficent and charitable, condescending and humane. Rule IV. — The last general rule that I should give respecting changes of key in regard to the full elucidation of the logical meaning of a sentence is this, that the most important sentences, or clauses in a sentence, are those which are given in the higher keys as well as the louder tones of the voice. 2o6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. Illustrations for Practice. I. (M) Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we marched on without impediment. (H) Richard, the bloody and devouring boar, Whose ravenous appetite has spoiled your fields, Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropped Its ripened hopes of fair posterity, (HH) Is now even in the centre of the isle. Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just : (L) And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted ; (LL) The very weight of Richard’s guilt shall crush him — (H) Then, let us on, my friends, and boldly face him ! (M) In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man As mild behaviour and humanity ; (H) But when the blast of wa-r blows in our ears, (HH) Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment ! (L) For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be — this body on the earth’s cold face ; (H) But, if we thrive, the glory of the action The meanest soldier here shall share his part of. (HH) Advance your standards, draw your willing swords, Sound drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully ; The words — “ St. George, Richmond, and Victory ! ” 2. Son ! Methinks this high assembly might well Have claimed thy presence. A great ruler’s heir Should be familiar in the people’s eyes ; Live on their tongues ; take root within t.ieir hearts ; Win woman’s smiles by honest courtesy. And force man’s tardier praise by bold desert ; So, when the chief shall die, the general love May hail his successor. 3. Add, that my boasted Schoolcraft Was gained from such base toil ; — gained with such pain That the nice nurture of the mind was oft Stolen at the body’s cost. I have gone dinnerless And supperless (the scoff of our poor street. For tattered vestments and lean hungry looks). To pay the pedagogue. Add what thou wilt Of injury. Say that, grown into man, I’ve known the pittance of the hospital. And, more degrading still, the patronage Of the Colonna. Of the tallest trees The roots delve deepest. Yes, I’ve trod thy halls. Scorned and derided ’midst their ribald crew — A licensed jester, save the cap and bells : Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. I have borne this — and I have borne the death, The unavenged death, of a poor brother. I seemed to be a base ignoble slave. What am I? — peace, I say ! — what am I now? Head of this great republic, chief of Rome — In all but name, her sovereign ; last of all. Thy father. 4. But this I will avow, that I have scorned. And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong : Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back. Can’t wrong me half so much as he who shuts The gates of honour on me — 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 top Of this huge mouldering monument of Rome, Hang hissing at the noble man below. 5. This is his answer ! Must I bring more proofs ? Fathers, you know there lives not one of us But is in peril of his midnight sword. Lists of proscription have been handed round. In which your general properties are made Your murderer’s hire. Bring in the prisoners. 6. Fathers of Rome ! If man can be convinced By proof as clear as daylight, there it stands ! Those men have been arrested at the gates. Bearing despatches to raise war in Gaul. Look on these letters ! Here’s a deep-laid plot d'o wreck the province ; a solemn league. Made with all form and circumstance. The time Is desperate, all the slaves are up ; — Rome shakes ! The heavens alone can tell how near our graves We stand even here ! — The name of Catiline Is foremost in the league. He was their king. — • Tried and convicted traitor, go from Rome 1 7. Heavens ! with what pride I used To walk these hills, and look up to my God, And think the land was free. Yes, it was free— From end to end, from cliff to lake ’twas free — Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks. And plough 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 then ! I loved 208 KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. Its very storms. Yes, I have often 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. ■ — On the wild jutting cliff, o’ertaken oft 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. Then 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 thraldom to that furious wind, “ Blow on ! This is the land of liberty ! ” 8. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more : Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears. Then imitate the action of the tiger ; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage ; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; Let it pry through the portage of the head. Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o’erwhelm it, As fearfully as doth a galled rock O’erhang and jutty his confounded base. Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. — Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To its full height ! Now on ! you noblest English, Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof ; Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument ! I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips. Straining upon the start. The game’s a-foot ; Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge. Cry, Heaven for Harry, England, and St. George ! 9. Worst in this royal presence may I speak. Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. I would that any in this noble presence Were enough noble to be upright judge Of noble Richard ; then true nobleness would Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 209 Teach him forbearance from so foul a wrong. What subject can give sentence on a king ? And who sits here, that is not Richard’s subject? Thieves are not judged, but they are by to hear, Although apparent guilt be seen in them : And shall the figure of Heaven’s Majesty, His captain, steward, deputy elect, Anointed, crowned, planted many years, Be judged by subject and inferior breath. And he himself not present? Oh, forbid it. Heaven, That, in a Christian climate, souls refined Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, Stirred up by truth, thus boldly for his king. My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford’s king : And if you crown him, let me prophesy — The blood of English shall manure the ground. And future ages groan for this foul act ; Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels. And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound ; Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny Shall here inhabit, and this land be called The field of Golgotha and dead men’s skulls. Oh ! if you rear this house against this house. It will the wofullest division prove That ever fell upon this cursed earth ! Prevent, resist it, let it not be so. Lest children’s children cry against you — woe ! 10. Honour, thou bloodstained god ! at whose red altar Sit war and homicide : oh ! to what madness Will insult drive thy votaries ! In truth, In the world’s range, there does not breathe a man Whose brutal nature I more strove to soothe With long forbearance, kindness, courtesy. Than his who fell by me. But he disgraced me. Stained me — oh, death and shame ! — the world looked on And saw this sinewy savage strike me down. Rain blows upon me, drag me to and fro. On the base earth, like carrion. Desperation, In every fibre of my frame, cried Vengeance ! I left the room which he had quitted. Chance, (Curse on the chance !) while boiling with my wrongs, Thrust me against him, darkling, in the street I stabbed him to the heart and my oppressor Rolled lifeless at my foot. Would you think it ? o 210 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [I-ECT. XII. E’en at the moment when I gave the blow, Butchered a fellow-creature in the dark, I had all good men’s love. But my disgrace. And my opponent’s death thus linked with it, Demanded notice of the magistracy. They summoned me, as friend would summon friend. To acts of import and communication. VVe met — and ’twas resolved, to stifle rumour. To put me on my trial. No accuser, No evidence appeared, to urge it on ’Twas meant to clear my fame. How clear it then? How cover it? — you say. — Why, by a lie — Guilt’s offspring, and its guard. I taught this breast. Which truth once made her throne, to forge a lie, This tongue to utter it ; — rounded a tale, Smooth as a seraph’s song from Satan’s mouth ; So well compacted, that the o’erthronged court Disturbed cool Justice in her judgment-seat. By shouting “Innocence !” ere I had finished. The court enlarged me ; and the giddy rabble Bore me, in triumph, home. Ay ! — look upon me. — I know thy sight aches at me. 11. I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty com- mensurate with, and inseparable from, British soil ; — which proclaims even to the stranger and sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and conse- crated by the genius of Universal Emancipation. No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced ; — no matter what complexion, incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun may have burnt upon him ; no matter in what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down ; — no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery ; — the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty; his body swells beyond the measure of the chains that burst from around him ; and he stands — redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled by the irresistible genius of “Universal Emancipation.” 1 2. 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 to 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. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of Lect. XII. ] ON ELOCUTION. 2II which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find which have not been already 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, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored 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. There is no longer any room for hope. 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 ! I have already spoken of the different emotional uses of the keys of the human voice in the Lectures I have given you, when treating of the emotional uses of the inflections, and I shall refer to the subject again when I come to speak of the various passions and emotions of human nature as indicated by expression of countenance, gestures, and voice generally. And now, last of all, in this division of our subject, I have to bring before your notice that special modulation of the voice — often combined with considerable variation as regards time as well as power of voice, ranging in the one from very slow to very quick, and in the other from very soft to very loud — which has received the name of IMITATIVE MODULATION. LECTURE XIII. Imitative Modulation — What is meant by it — Views of Lord Karnes in reference to Imitative Modulation — Illustrations — Time in Reading and Speaking, and its Varieties — Slow, Medium, and Quick Time — General Suggestions — Illustrations for Practice. THINK we are indebted to Lord Karnes, the eminent Scotch judge and critic, as being one of the earliest writers in our language who has entered into anything like a full and philosophical examination of this interesting subject. In that chapter in his “ Elements of Criticism,” which treats of “Beauty of Language,” he justly remarks that a resemblance between the sound of certain words and their signification is a beauty that has escaped no critical writer, and yet has scarcely been handled with sufficient accuracy by any of them. They have probably been of opinion that a beauty so obvious to the mind required no explanation. This is an error, says Lord Karnes, and to avoid it in his own work he enters into a very learned and elaborate disquisition on the subject, giving a great number of examples of the various resemblances between sound and signification, accompanied with an endeavour to explain why such resemblances are so beautiful. He begins with illustrations where the resemblance between the sound and the signification is the most complete, and then goes on to examples where the resemblance is less and less obvious. There being frequently, he says, a strong resemblance between one sound and another, it will not be surprising to find an articulate sound resembling one that is not articulate. Thus the sound of a bow- string when the arrow is discharged is well imitated by Pope, in the following italicised words : — “ The string let fly, Twang d short and sharpy like the shrill swallow’s cry.” Again, in a well-known passage from his translation of Homer’s Iliad, what admirable words has he selected to express the sound of felling trees in a wood : — “ Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on strokes^ On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks Lect. XIIL] KJNG'S college lectures on elocution. 213 Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown, Then rustling, crackling, crashing, 'thimder downT Or again from the same poet : — “ Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms; When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves. The rough rock roars ; tumultuous boil ihe wavesP Now no person can be at a loss about the cause of this beauty of sound and sense combined in the foregoing passages ; it is obviously that of imitation. That there is any other resemblance of sound to sig- nification must not be taken for granted. There is no resemblance of sound to motion, nor of sound to feeling or sentiment. But we may be deceived, as it were, by the artful delivery of the accomplished reader or speaker. The same passage may be pronounced in many different keys, tones, and time ; the modulation may be high or low, the tone sweet or harsh, the time quick or slow, so as to be in accordance with the character of the thought or emotion. Such concord must be distinguished from that concord between sound and sense which is per- ceived in some words, independent almost of the skilled delivery of the elocutionist. The former is the poet’s work ; the latter must be attributed to the art of the reader or speaker. There is another thing which contributes still more to this pleasing delusion to which the hearer so readily yields himself. In all languages, Greek, Latin, and all its modern derivatives, in the Teutonic group, and especially Anglo-Saxon and modern English, and I doubt not also in all the Oriental tongues, the properties of sound and sense being intimately connected, the properties of the one are readily communicated to the other. For example,, the attributes of grandeur, of sweetness, or of melancholy, though belonging to the thought only, are transferred to the words, which by that means resemble in appearance the thought which is expressed by them. That there may be a resemblance between articulate sounds and some that are not articulate is therefore manifest. That such resemblances do indeed exist, and are successfully employed by writers of genius, is clear from the preceding examples, and from many others which might be given. But we may safely pronounce that this natural rese 7 nblance can be carried no further. The objects of the different senses differ so widely from each other as to exclude any resemblance. Sound in particular, whether articulate or inarticulate, resembles not in any degree motion, taste, or smell; and as little can it resemble any internal sentiment, feeling, or emotion. But must we then admit that nothing but sound can be imitated by sound ? Taking imitation in its strict and limited sense, as importing a direct resemblance between two objects, the pro- position must, I think, be admitted ; and yet in many passages that are not descriptive of sound, every person of cultivated taste and judgment must be sensible of a peculiar concord or harmony between the sounds of the words and their meaning. As there can be no doubt, I apprehend, 214 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. xiir. of the truth of such an assertion, it remains for us in the next place to inquire into its cause, and if possible ascertain its reason. Now it has been well remarked by Lord Karnes, that resembling causes may produce effects that have no resemblance ; and causes that have no resemblance may produce resembling effects. A magnificent building, he says, for example, resembles not in any degree an heroic action, and yet the emotions they produce are concordant, and bear a certain kind of resemblance to each other. We are still more sensible of this resemblance in a song, when the music is properly adapted to the sentiment. There is no resemblance between thought and sound ; but there is the strongest resemblance between the emotion raised by music, tender and pathetic, and that raised by some plaintive elegy. Now, applying this observation to the present subject, it appears that in some instances the sound even of a single word makes an impression re- sembling that which is made by the thing it signifies. Witness, for instance, the word runnings composed of two short syllables ; and still more remarkably such words as rapidity^ impetuosity^ precipitation^ &c. Brutal manners produce in the spectator an emotion not unlike that which is produced by a harsh or rough sound, and hence the beauty of the figurative expression, rugged manners. Again, the word little^ being formed by a very small opening of the mouth, has, as it were, a feeble and faint sound, which makes an impression resembling that made by a diminutive object. This resemblance of effects is still more remarkable where a number of words are connected in a sentence. It will be often found that appropriate words, pronounced in succession, often make a very strong impression on the mind ; and when this impression happens to accord with that made by the sense, we are sensible of a complex emotion peculiarly gratifying ; one proceeding from the sentiment, and the other from the melody or sound of the words. But the chief pleasure proceeds from having these two concordant emotions combined in per- fect harmony, and carried on in the mind to a full close. Except in the single case where sound is described by words expressive of the different varieties of sound, all the examples given by critics of sense being imitated by sound, resolve themselves into a rese77iblance of effects. Emotions raised by sound and signification may have a resemblance ; but sound itself cannot have any resemblance to anything but sound. Proceeding, then, now to particulars, and beginning, then, with those cases where the emotions have the strongest resemblance, I observe first that, by a number of syllables in succession, an emotion is frequently raised extremely similar to that raised by successive action or motion. This will be evident even to those who are most defective in sensibility of ear or delicacy of taste, from the following fact, that the term 77iove- 77tent., in all languages, is equally applicable to both. In this manner successive motion, such as walking, running, galloping, can be imitated by a succession of long or short syllables, or by a due mixture of both. For example, slow motion may be justly imitated in a verse where syllables lo7ig in point quantity chiefly prevail, and the idea is properly carried out by the reader or speaker pronouncing such passage in what is termed slow tune — take the following, from Tennyson : — Lect. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 215 “ And slo7i)ly, slowly, mof'c and ino7'e, 'Fhe moony vapour rolling round the king, Who seem’d the phantom of a giant in it, Enwound him fold by fold, and made him grey And greyer, till hunself became as mist Before her, moving ghost-like to his dooml'^ Secondly, on the other hand, swift, rapid, impetuous motion may be successfully imitated by a succession of short syllables, delivered in quick time, and with the short poise of the voice combined, as in the opening lines of Browning’s “ Good News from Ghent” : — I sprang to the saddle, and Joris and he, I galloped, Dirck galloped, galloped all three P Thirdly, a line composed of monosyllables makes an impression by the frequency of its pauses, aided by the slow time and appropriate rhetorical pauses and full poise of voice on the part of the reader, similar to that which is made by heavy laborious interrupted motion. Pope will supply us with a good illustration in the last of these two expressive lines : — “ First march the heavy mules securely slow. O'er hills, o'er dales, o'er crags, o'er rocks they go." Fourthly, the impression made on the ear by rough harsh sounding syllables in succession resembles that made by the sound of rough or tumultuous motion, especially when properly carried out by the art of the cultivated reader; whilst on the other hand, the impression of smooth sounds, gently and flowingly delivered, resembles that of soft gentle motion. d'he first couplet in the following lines, from Pope’s translation of the Odyssey, will give us an admirable illustration of the former, while the concluding lines will serve well to exemplify the latter ; — “ Two craggy rocks projecting to the main, The roaring wind's tempestuous rage restrain : Within, the waves in softer murinurs glide, And ships secure, without their hawsers ride." Perhaps a still better illustration of the latter, and then of the former, is to be found in the same poet’s “ Essay on Criticism : ” — “ Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, Arid the smooth st7'ea77i m s77ioother nu77ibers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore. The hoarse, 7'ough verse should like the torrent roar." Fifthly, to illustrate prolonged motion of various kinds, let us take some of the Alexandrine lines which the same poet so artfully and 2i6 KING'S college lectures [Lect. XIII . judiciously introduces in some of his most beautiful passages. The first shall be of slow motion prolonged : — “ A needless Alexandrine ends the song That like a wou7ided snake drags its slow length alongE The next of forcible motion prolonged : — “The waves behind impel the waves before, Wide rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shoreE And our last example shall be of rapid motion prolonged. “ Not so when swift Camilla scoui's the plain, Flies o’er the unbending corn and skims along the main.” I think I have now given a sufficient number of examples to illustrate adequately the leading principles of what, in default of a better term, is called imitative modulation. I just read, in concluding these various illustrations, one magnificent passage from Lord Byron, in which every line may be cited as an example of imitative modulation : — “ Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell. Then shriek'd the twiid, and stood still the bi'ave , Then some leaf’d overboard with dreadful yell. As eager to anticipate their grave : And the sea yawn'd arouizd her like a hell ; And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave^ Like one who grapples with his enemy. And strives to strangle him before he die. “ And first one universal shriek there rusJid Louder than the loud ocean — like a crash Of echoing thunder — and then all was hush'd Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals gush'd, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek — the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his ago?iyE Thus, then, it will be seen that in all descriptive reading much expressive beauty is gained by “ making the sound seem echo to the sense.” As far as possible, the pronunciation of words should be such as will, consistently with the requirements of good taste, convey by their sound the actions they describe, and the objects which they represent. By availing himself of all the aids afforded by intonation, inflection, modulation, and poise, the skilful reader or speaker can often convey to the mind as vivid and impressive a picture as the artist can convey to the eye by means of his canvas, brush, and palette. In discussing this portion of the subject. Lord Karnes well observes that the only gefteral rule that can be given for directing the pronunciation, is to Lect. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION 217 sound the words in such a manner as to imitate or convey to the mind as strongly as possible an idea of the things they signify. In pronounc- ing words signifying what is elevated, the voice ought to be raised above its ordinary tone ; whilst, on the other hand, words expressive of grief, pathos, melancholy dejection, and kindred feelings of depression, should be pronounced in a low key of modulation. To convey the idea of stern, harsh, or impetuous passion, the tone in which the words should be pronounced is loud and strong. On the contrary, again, a gentle and kindly passion should be delivered in a soft, flowing, and melodi- ous tone. In Dryden’s poem of “Alexander’s Feast,” the line “fallen, fallen, fallen ! ” represents a gradual sinking of the mind, and therefore any person of taste, even without instruction in the art of elocution, would be almost certain instinctively to read each repetition of the words with a tone becoming more and more subdued. Another cir- cumstance which contributes greatly to the resemblance between sense and sound, is slowness or quickness of time in delivery ; for though the length or shortness of the syllables in point of quantity be ascertained accurately, yet the whole clause or sentence may be delivered either in slow, medium, or quick time. A clause or sentence ought to be pro- nounced slowly when it expresses a similar action, or when it conveys to the mind that which is grave, deliberate, solemn, or important ; while, on the other hand, it should be pronounced quickly when it describes action which is brisk or rapid, or conveys emotions that are lively, joyful, or impetuous. And now a few words in conclusion, in more especial reference to those who will read these Lectures hereafter. It is no more to be expected that a person will become an accomplished reader or speaker versed in all the resources which are afforded by the art of elocu- tion merely by becoming acquainted with the theory of the art and learning a determinate set of rules, than that he should become a finished vocalist by studying a treatise on the art of singing and learning the names of the different notes in music, their meaning and value. In one art as well as the other theory is requisite^ but in elocution the power of properly inflecting and harmoniously modulating the voice is to be acquired only by example and practice, such as these King’s College Evening Classes afford to every student who enters them. To you who listen to me, these Lectures hereafter may serve, I hope, as useful aids to memory in connecting mere theory with actual practice. By pro- nouncing immediately after a correct reader a series of exercises in inflection and modulation, a good ear will convey an impression to the mind of the leading principles of both, and pradice will soon make an indifferent reader or speaker advance rapidly in improvement. But of course all persons vary in their natural gifts, and there is no art in which the advantage of possessingy^^//;z^, taste^ discretion, and ediicatio7i is more apparent than in that of Elocution. Last of all, I would say, in order to acquire the power of easily chang- ing the different keys in which you read or speak, at pleasure, accustom yourselves to pitch the voice in various keys, from the highest to the lowest you can command in range. It is very probably the case that few occasions will arise for employing so wide a latitude of modula- 2I8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIII. tioii in ordinary reading aloud or speaking in public ; but still the practice is most useful, and the actual exercise will give you such a ])ower and command of voice as cannot be acquired by any other mode. Having duly carried out this practice till you can read with ease in a wide range of modulation from low keys to high, and from high to low, then read as exercises on this rule such compositions in poetry or prose (perhaps at first the former is best, on account of the better opportunity for sustaining the vowel sounds in syllables that are long in quantity), such compositions as have a variety of emotions, actions, or speakers introduced, or dramatic dialogues, observing the various keys in modu- lation which seem best adapted to each, and endeavouring to change them as nature and art jointly direct. Such practice will prove as bene- ficial to the voice as it is pleasant and profitable to the mind. lUustratioiis for Practice. THE LEGEND OF HORATIUS. Macaulay. Meanwhile the Tuscan army Right glorious to behold, flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright. Of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded^ A peal of warlike glee ; As that great host, with measured tread.^ And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge’s head, Where stood the dauntless Three. The Three stood calm and silent^ And looked upon the foes. And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose : And forth three chiefs came spurring.^ Before that mighty mass ; To earth they spra?ig, Their swords they drew., And lifted high their shields^ and flew To win the narrow pass. But 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, All shrank, like boys who unaware, Ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair Lect. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 2ig Where, growling lo7U, a fierce old bear. Lies amidst bones and blood. Was none who would be foremost, To lead such dire attack ; But those behind cried “Forward !” And those before cried “ Back ! ” And backward noiv a7id forivard, Wavers the deep array ; And on the tossing sea of steel. To and fro the standards reel ; And the victorious trunipet-peal Vies fitfully away. But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied ; And now the bridge hangs totte7'i7ig Above the boiling tide. “ Come back, co77ie back, Horatius I ” Loud cried the fathers all. “ Back, Lartius I back, Her77ii7iius / Back, ere the rum fall ! ” Back darted Spurius Lartius ; Herminius darted back : And, as they passed, Beneath their feet They felt the tmibers crack. But when they turned their faces. And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone. They would have crossed once more. But with a crash like tJumder, Fell every loosened beam, And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream : And a long shout of t7'iu7nph Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest timret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam. And, like a horse unbroken. When first he feels the rein. The furious 7'iver struggled hard. And tossed his tawny mane, And burst the curb, and bounded. Rejoicing to be free ; And whirling dozvn in fierce career. Battlement, and plank, and pier. Rushed headlong to the sea. Alone stood brave Horatius, 220 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIII. 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 I'hose craven ranks to see ; Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus nought spoke 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. “ O 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^ With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazmg where he sa7ik ; And when above the surges They saw his crest appear. All Rome sent forth a rapturous ciy ; And e’en the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain : A7id fast his blood was fiowwg, A7id he was sore in pam, A7id heavy with his ar77iour, And spent with cha7iging blows : And oft they thotcght hi77i s hiking. But still again he 7'ose. Never, 1 ween, did swimmer. In such an evil case, Sti'uggle through such a 7'aging flood Safe to the landing-place : But his limbs were boime up bravely By the bi'ave heai't within. And our good father Tiber Bare bravely up his chin. Lect. XIIL] ON ELOCUTION. 221 “ 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 dappuig, And noise of weepmg loud, He enters through the river-gate, Borne by the joyous crowd. THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. Aytoun, :i. Come hither, Evan Cameron ! Come, stand beside my kneel I hear the river roaring down Towards the wintry sea. There’s shouting on the mountain-side, There’s war within the blast : Old faces look upon me, Old forms go trooping past : I hear the pibroch wailing Amid the din of fight, And my dim spirit wakes again Amid the gloom of night. 2. ’Twas I that led the Highland host Through wild Lochaber’s snows. What time the plaided clans came down To battle with Montrose. I’ve told thee how the Southrons fell Beneath the broad claymore. And how we smote the Campbell clan By Inverlochy’s shore. I’ve told thee how we swept Dundee, And tamed the Lindsays’ pride ; But never have I told thee yet How the great Marquis died. 3. A traitor sold him to his foes. Oh deed of deathless shame ! I charge thee, boy, if e’er thou meet With one of Assynt’s name. 222 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI ir. Be it upon the mountain-side, Or yet within the glen, Stand he in martial gear alone, Or backed by armed men, Face him, as thou wouldst face the man That wronged thy sire’s renown ; Remember of what blood thou art, And strike the caitiff down. 4. They brought him to the Watergate, Hard bound with hempen span, As though they held a lion there, And not a fenceless man : They set him high upon a cart — The hangman rode below : They drew his hands behind his back, And bared his noble brow. Then, as a hound is slipped from leash. They cheered, the common throng, And blew the note with yell and shout. And bade him pass along. 5. It would have made a brave man’s heart Grow sad and sick that day, To watch the keen malignant eyes Bent down on that array. There stood the Whig west-country lords In balcony and bow ; There sat their gaunt and withered dames. And their daughters all a-row ; And every open window Was full as full might be With black-robed covenanting carles, That goodly sport to see ! 6. But when he came, though pale and worn, He looked so great and high. So noble was his manly front. So calm his steadfast eye, The rabble rout forbore to shout. And each man held his breath. For well they knew the hero’s soul Was face to face with death. And then a mournful shudder Through all the people crept. And some that came to scoff at him Now turned aside — and wept. 7. But onwards, always onwards, In silence and in gloom. Lect. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION 223 The dreary pageant laboured, Till it reached the house of doom. Then first a woman’s voice was heard In jeer and laughter loud, And an angry cry and a hiss arose From the heart of the surging crowd ; Then, as the Graeme looked upwards. He saw the ugly smile Of him who sold his king for gold — The master-fiend — Argyle ! 8. The Marquis gazed a moment, And nothing did he say. But the cheek of Argyle grew deadly pale, And he turned his eyes away. The painted harlot by his side She shook through every limb, For a roar like thunder swept the street, And hands were clenched at him ; And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, “ Back, coward, from thy place ! For seven long years thou hast not dared To look him in the face.” 9. Had I been there with sword in hand. And fifty Camerons by. That day through high Dunedin’s streets Had pealed the slogan cry. Not all their troops of trampling horse, Nor might of mailed men ; Not all the rebels in the south Had borne us backward then. Once more his foot on Highland heath, Had trod as free as air, Or I, and all who bore my name, Been laid around him there ! 10. It might not be — they placed him next Within the solemn hall. Where once the Scottish kings were throned Amidst their nobles all. But there was dust of vulgar feet On that polluted floor. And perjured traitors filled the place Where good men sat before. With savage glee came Warriston To read the murderous doom ; And then uprose the great Montrose In the middle of the room. «24 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIII. 11. “ Now, by my faith as belted knight, And by the name I bear. And by the bright Saint Andrew’s cross That waves above us — there ! Yea, by a greater, mightier oath — And oh, that such should be ! — By that dark stream of royal blood That flows ’twixt you and me ! I have not sought in battlefield A wreath of such renown, Nor dared I hope on my dying day To win the martyr’s crown ! 12. “ There is a chamber far away Where sleep the good and brave. But a better place ye have named for me. Than by my father’s grave. For truth and right ’gainst traitor’s might, This hand hath always striven, And ye raise it up as a witness still In the eye of earth and heaven ! Then nail my head on yonder tower, Give every town a limb. And God who made shall gather them ; I go from you to Him ! ” 13. The morning dawned full darkly. The rain came flashing down. And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt Lit up the gloomy town. The thunder crashed across the heaven. The fatal hour was come, Yet aye broke in with muffled beat The ’larum of the drum. There was madness on the earth below. And anger in the sky. And young and old, and rich and poor. Came forth to see him die ! 14. O God ! that ghastly gibbet ! How dismal ’tis to see The great tall spectral skeleton, The ladder and the tree ! Hark ! hark ! it is the clash of arms. The bells begin to toll 1 “ He is coming ! he is coming ! God’s mercy on his soul ! ” One last long peal of thunder. The clouds have past away. And the glorious sun once more looks down Amid the dazzling day ! Lecf, XIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 225 15. “He is coming! he is coming!” Like a bridegroom from his room, Came the hero from the prison To the scaffold and the doom ! There was glory on his forehead, There was lustre in his eye, And he never walked to battle More proudly than to die. There was colour in his visage. Though the cheeks of all were wan, And they marvell’d as they saw him pass. That great and goodly man ! 16. He mounted up the scaffold, And he turned him to the crowd ; But they dared not trust the people. So he might not speak aloud. But he looked upon the heavens. And they were clear and blue. And in the liquid ether The eye of God shone through. Yet a black and murky battlement Lay resting on the hill. As though the thunder slept within : All else was calm and still ! 17. The grim Genevan ministers, With anxious scowl, drew near, As you have seen the ravens flock Around the dying deer. He would not deign them word nor sign. But alone he bent the knee. And veiled his face for Christ’s dear grace Beneath the gallows-tree. , Then radiant and serene he rose. And cast his cloak away. For he had ta’en his latest look Of earth, and sun, and day ! 18. A beam of light fell o’er him, Like a glory round the shriven. And he climb’d the lofty ladder As it were the path to heaven ! Then came a flash from out the cloud, And a stunning thunder-roll. And no man dared to look aloft For fear was on every soul. There was another heavy sound, A hush, and then a groan. And darkness swept across the sky. The work of death was done ! P LECTURE XIV. Elocution considered as a Science — Mr. Thelwall’s Opinions — The Knowledge of Human Nature and the Philosophy of Mind — The Theory of the Poise — Ancient and Modem Authorities on the Poise of the Voice in Reading and Speaking — Steele’s “ Prosodia Rationalis” — The Laws of Quantity — The Proper Observance of the Poise essential to good Reading and Speaking — Special Function of the Larynx in reference to Poise — Neglect of the Observance of Poise a frequent Source of Stammering and Stuttering — The Laws of Rhythm — Pauses — Rhetorical words — Mr. Herbert Spencer’s Views on Rhythm, REMEMBER well that the first Lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking who was appointed in this College, the late Rev. A .S. Thelwall — whose name I have already quoted on a former evening — never spoke in his Lectures of the art of Elocution, as people are generally in the habit of calling it ; but he always termed it the “ science ” of Elocution, and claimed for it invariably the rank and dignity of a science. And if we are to take the word “ science” in the sense of its original {scientia), as meaning know- ledge, I think that a systematic and orderly arrangement of knowledge on any important subject may fairly be said to reduce such a subject to a science. I think I should be strongly inclined to follow the example of my late excellent predecessor when lecturing here, and, like him, speak of Elocu- tion as 2 i science. Eor any instruction that really deserves that character ought to be founded on truly scientific principles^ upon an intimate know- ledge of the a7iato7ny and physiology of the organs of voice and speech, and an accurate acquaintance with the principles of spoken language. Mr. Thelwall always contended (and here I quite agree with him) that a scientific study of Elocution must involve some consideration of the principles of music ; for unless we understand so much of that science as to be able to discern how far the principles of music apply to spoken language (as indeed they do in a measure to all vocal sounds), and wherein the music of speech differs from the music of song^ we shall not only be destitute of any sure foundation for those rules by which the management of the voice must be regulated, but we shall be liable to many errors and mistakes, and unable to show how various defects are to be remedied. And, moreover, we must have continually to make some reference to a higher and nobler science still, viz., the knowledge of human nature and the philosophy of mind. Indeed, without due attention to this, how shall we be enabled fitly to express, and intel- ligibly and effectively to communicate to others, the various passions, Lect. XIV.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION 227 emotions, sentiments, and convictions of the human mind ? There is nothing more certain than that if the principles we define and the rules we lay down have not constant reference to this high and important department of human knowledge and study, they will most assuredly be in constant danger of failing to have their foundation in truth and nature: for it is mainly by means of spoken language that mind in this life here communicates with mind j and therefore it necessarily follows that not only the words which we employ to express in language our manifold thoughts and feelings, but the manner in which we pronounce such language so as to produce its fullest effect, must have continual reference and adaptation to the nature and constitution of the human mind. Now, when it has been shown that the principles by which the inflec- tion, modulation, and poise of the voice must be regulated, especially in public reading and speaking, and that the rules by which the errors, mistakes, and defects into which so many readers and speakers fall, are to be corrected and overcome, involve a constant reference to those branches of science to which reference has been made, in order to inves- tigate, ascertain, and point out the true foundations on which they rest, it neither can nor will be long a matter of surprise if Elocution claims and receives the rank and dignity of a science. No doubt it is indeed perfectly true that, when those rules have once been investigated and laid down, and when the scientific principles on which they are founded have been clearly ascertained, it will, generally speaking, be quite suffi- cient to give to the pupil the result^ without entering at large with each individual into the whole logical process of examination and reasoning by which we have arrived at it. Yet still, an educated and scientific instructor should always be prepared to explain fully the rationale of every rule laid down for inflection, modulation, and other elements of Elocution, whenever occasion may requirfc ; though of course there is no need of his burdening the mind of every pupil who comes to him for practical instruction, with all the details of the whole process of reason- ing by which he has himself come to his conclusions. When Mr. Thelwall delivered his introductory lecture on Elocution in this college many years ago to a large and distinguished audience, at which I had the honour and advantage of being present, he said, when closing his argument in support of his favourite proposition, that Elocution was a science — “ Let me consider that if Elocution claim to be considered as a science, it must, first of all, have its dear definitions. We cannot lay down our rules for the management of the voice without using certain terms of art, which, in the ordinary course of instruction, will con- tinually recur ; and those terms should be clearly defined and strictly appropriated. “To illustrate this general principle, I need only refer to Euclid, or to any work on any particular branch of mathematics. When these are opened, it will be seen at once that they regularly commence with defini- tions. If these be not distinctly set forth in the first instance, and strictly ^hered to in what follows, there will be endless confusion. Especially it is evident that, if the same word were continually used to express 228 KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. • things essentially different, there would soon be such confusion and uncertainty, that all hope of coming to clear and satisfactory conclusions would be utterly at an end. Only imagine a teacher of mathematics who should insist on using the same word to designate an angle and a circle ! what could be expected as the result but endless confusion ? “ These remarks are very important in connection with our present subject. For though, in regard to sciences in general, they are so obvious as almost to deserve the title of mere truisms ; yet, with reference to Elocution and the phenomena of spoken language, they have been most strangely and lamentably forgotten ; insomuch that many able and learned men have got thoroughly into the habit of con- founding things which ought to be distinguished (because, indeed, they are, in their very nature, distinct) ; and this habit has laid the founda- tion of many rooted prejudices. Hence it has come to pass that those who have attempted to mark out a wiser course and to proceed upon truly rational and scientific principles in treating of Elocution, have heretofore found too much reason to complain that, even from men of science and learning, they could scarcely get so much as a patient hearing. “ For example : What confusion has there been on the subject of accent and quantity ! And the term accent itself has been used, and is still continually used, to express ideas which are totally distinct — ideas, indeed, which it is of the highest importance to distinguish — if we would really understand the nature and the principles of spoken language. “We speak of accents as acute^ grave^ and circm?iflex. This mode of speaking has evident reference to the rising and falling of the voice in the musical scale. And when we speak of an Irish accent, a Scotch accent, a provincial accent, or a foreign accent, we have, generally, a reference to the peculiar tones of the voice, which characterise persons who come from different countries or provinces (though sometimes, j)erhaps, we speak more vaguely, and include, under the term accent^ all the peculiarities of pronunciation by which such persons are distin- guished ; but this is evidently a vague and incorrect way of speaking). “ But when we speak of the accented syllable of a word — when we say that constant, parent, and teacher, are accented on the first syllable, and that exalt, detect, and avoid are accented on the last, is it not evident that we use the word accent in a totally different sense ? We commonly call the first syllable in the former words and the last syllable in the latter that on , which the acute accent falls ; and we use the note or sign of the acute accent, to mark what we call the accented syllable. But has this really anything to do with acute and grave ? — with the rise or fall of the voice in the musical scale ? Let us endeavour to bring this to the test of careful observation.” Mr. Thelwall then gave his audience an illustration by pronouncing the two following short interrogative sentences : — “ Is that a man?” “ xA.re you content ? ” Pronouncing these two sentences in the proper way as laid down in the rules of inflection, he said reasonably enough that the individual in his audience must have a very dull or unpractised ear, who did not Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 229 perceive that the speaker’s voice rose to a higher note on the last syllable of each of the two sentences he had just uttered. But who, among his hearers, he went on to say, did not perceive with- equal clearness, that when the sentence is affirmative the note on the final syllable is wholly different ? that the voice descends in the musical scale. “Yes, that is a man.” “I am content.” And this essential difference between an affirmative and an interroga- tive sentence is so essentially rooted in the very nature of things, he continued, that we all make the distinction naturally ; and naturally, too, we all perceive and feel it. So that when the very words, and the order in which the words are placed in the sentence, are in every respect precisely the same, one speaker will make them sound like an interro- gation, and another like an affirmation by the mere inflection of the voice according as it is rising or falling at the end of the sentence. “The king comes here to-night.” This, now, so pronounced, is meiely a simple affirmation. But sup- posing, for a moment, that the sentence was not fully heard or under- stood at first, the question for further information or assurance of the fact might be asked in precisely the very same words, but with another inflection, the rising instead of the fallmg. “The king comes here to-m'ght?” And yet some persons will speak of these inflections under the name of accent. I was so much impressed with a sense of the learning, labour, and research exhibited by Mr. Thelwall in the portion of his lecture which more immediately followed in reference to this subject, that I waited on him afterwards, and had a very long and interesting conversation with him on this, as well as other questions in connection with Elocution. He very kindly gave me a copy of his lecture, and shortly afterwards it was printed and published by him under the title of “ A Lecture on the Importance of Elocution, delivered at King’s College, London, on entering upon the duties of Lecturer on Public Reading, Jan. 30, 1850.” Thirty years have elapsed since then. Mr. Thelwall is now dead, and his lecture is, I believe, now entirely out of print. I am sure, therefore, you will consider it a valuable addition to your information, if here I give you Mr. Thelwall’s own language from the copy still in my possession. “Now it is evident that the words king and night in these two cases have equally that stress upon them, which is commonly denoted by what (in speaking of polysyllables) is called the acute accent (as, when we say kmgly or night'ly, the first is commonly called the accented syllable, and it is marked in Pronouncing Dictionaries with the sign of the acute accent accordingly) ; and yet, to speak correctly of the musical inflection, in the affirmative sentence we pronounce them both with a grave accent, and must do so in order to convey our meaning ; and, in the interrogative sentence, by merely using the acute accent on each, we at once convey, even to the dullest ear, the unmistakable impression of a question. “ Is there not, then, some strange confusion, in denoting two things 230 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. so entirely distinct in their nature as the stress that is laid on particular syllables, and the rise of the voice in the musical scale, by one and the same term ? “The fact is, that we want other terms to express the distinction between what are so commonly, but very improperly, called the accented and imaccented syllables. And for the adoption of such terms I must earnestly plead ; for we commonly find that confusion of terms leads to confusion of ideas. And, in reference to all discussions respecting spoken language, this has been continually the case. “We must have, in the very outset of all our inquiries on this subject (if we would ever hope to bring them to a satisfactory issue) — we must have clearly before our minds a threefold distinction. “ I. Quantity has reference to the comparative length of syllables ; and includes the differences of long and shorty or longer and shorte?'. ^ It may be sufficient in all ordinary cases to denote these distinctions by the usual marks of “ for long., and for shoi t. If more accuracy is required, the musical notes of quantity o Semibreve, Minim, ^ Crochet, ^ the Quaver, will serve every purpose ; especially if (when needful) we add a dot to the right, which makes the note half as long again. Thus : i -''d r p 9 9 *2. Accent has reference to the rise and fall ot the voice in the musical scale, or to musical inflection ; it includes acute ('), grave ('), and circumflex f). (Adopting the usual notation.) “ 3 . Let us, then, confine these words to their proper meanings. And when we are clear as to the meaning of our terms, we are then prepared to enter upon the discussion of the question. How far there is any necessary connection between quantity and accent ? or in other words. Whether or not the long syllable is necessarily, or naturally, acute, or the short grave 2 “ But we must have a third term to express a third set of differences ; namely, that which we observe between the first and second syllables of the woxGs, patience, glory, conflict, pitfall ; oi delight, consists, maintain, pronou7ice. “ This distinction is expressed by the thesis and arsis of the Greeks ; which had, I conceive, reference to the planting and lifting up of the * “ I say longer and shorter, and not merely long and short, for it is a great mistake to suppose that all long syllables are equally long, and all short syllables equally short. An able and learned author, to whom reference is subsequently made, has clearly shown that English syllables differ in length, in all the varieties of from eight to one. That is to say, if the longest syllable in spoken language be denoted by a semibreve, there are other syllables continually used, of which the quantity can only be fitly denoted by a quaver. My late father had come to the same conclusion, before he had even heard the name of the author alluded to. This author also aptly illustrates the various length of syllables, wdrich are all called short, by reference to the primary meaning of the word dactyle : ddKTvXos, a finger, is indeed long2Sv(i two short ; but who does not see, by looking at his own finger, that the two short joints are not equally short? We have, in fact, long, short, and shorter. Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 231 foot in walking, or to the fall and rise of the time-beater in beating time to music. “ I am well aware that there have been disputes and differences as to the meaning and application of those terms ; insomuch that some writers use them in an inverted sense — some calling that arsis which others call thesis; and vice-versa. Baccheius says: — Kogiv ‘rroiav XiyofLiv sJmt "Orav [MiTiUooi ^ b ‘ttovc^ r,)/r/.a av /xiXXojfMsv sfjL^uivBiv. Qscriv 8 s, ‘tto/uv j "Orccv xsiljjsvoai ‘ What do we call a?'sis ? When the foot is lifted up with the intention of taking a step. What thesis ? When it is put down.’ ‘‘And the Scholiast to Hermogenes:* Aocig Ttai 0sotg xv^/ug /ih ovojdci^sra/, ‘zcc^d roJg 'MovctxoTg, sV/ robv rou ‘irodog x^ovfidrctjv dvoo 75 zdru rriv boariv Xa^a^dvoiTogi ‘ Jrsis and Thesis are the names properly bestowed by Musicians upon the beats of the foot, lifted up or put down.’ And Marius Victorinus says, to the same purpose, in one place, ‘Arsis et thesis, ^uas Greed dicunt, id est, subledio ^/positio, significant pedis ^notuin : est enim arsis sublatio pedis, sine sono ; thesis, pedis, cum sono.’ ‘Arsis and thesis, as the Greeks say, that is lifiting up and putting down, signify the motion of the foot ; for arsis is the lifting up of the foot, without sound, thesis, the putting down of the foot, with soundd Other passages might be quoted, to illustrate the use of the words in these senses. It is true that Marius Victorinus immediately gives another definition, which leads us to a totally different application of the terms. ‘ Ite7Ji arsis est elatio teniporis, soni, vocis : thesis depositio et gucedam contractio syllaharum ’ t — the purport of which, did it stand alone, would, I think, be somewhat dubious; but he explains it by reference to Pyrrhic and Spondaic and other feet, in a manner which leaves no doubt as to his meaning. Priscian fully agrees with him, and explains himself yet more clearly : ‘ Nam in unaquaque parte oration is arsis et thesis sunt, non in or dine syllaharum, sed in profiunciatione, velut in hac pa7'te, natura ; ut quando dico natu, elevatur vox et est arsis m tu ; quando vero ra, depri- mitur vox, et est thesis.' J And this, so far as I have observed, is the view that is more commonly taken. Nevertheless, it appears to me, that the former explanation is the more simple and natural. And the authors, to whom I am indebted for the most valuable hints and information on * “See Stephan. Thesaur. Linguae Graecse, in voce ^eVis. It may not be amiss to transcribe the whole passage : — “ Ernesti Lex. Rhet. Techn. Gr. ’'Apcris, Graecis dicta Sublatio pedis in saltatione, ut diais, ejusdem pedis Positio. Inde forma loquendi ad spatia ilia traducta est, quae sunt in syllabis longis et brevibus. Hinc Quintil. 9, 4, 48. Rhythmo, inquit, indif- ferens est, dactylus ne ille priores habeat breves, an sequentes. Tempus enim solum metitur, ut a sublatione ad positionem (h. e. ab Epcei ad deaiv iisdem sit spatiis pedum. Cf. Aristid. Quintil. p. 31. Meibom., ubi haec sunt : ’’AperLS earl (popa awpLaros iirl rb Ai'cv. 6t(ns 5b, bxl rb koltu ratirov piepovs. Schol. Anon, ad Hermog. rrept 15, i, p. 400. T. 2, Aid. Rhet.’ Then follow the words which are quoted in the text, to which are subjoined the following: — irapa 5 b rots 'ItrjTopai, rb Kara airocpacLV Kal KaTd and light by.*., placed under the respective syllables. “Now it appears from an anatomical examination of the larynx, and from experiments and observations as to the action of that delicate and * Thus in the line — “ Man, on the dubious waves of error toss’d,” I should call the first, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth syllables heavy, or in thesis and the other syllables light, or in arsis. This would agree with Aristeides Quintilianus, who says : — “Ta/4/3os, 7 ]iJ.i(xeLas apcrew? Kol OLTr\a.(TLov diaews. T/ 30 %aios dtirXaaiov diaem Kal / 3 /)axetas dpaews . — De Musica, p. 37. And with Baccheius : — ^^'lafjLjSos adyKeLTat eK ^paxlos Kal fxaKpoO xpoi'oj'. dpx^rai 5 ’ dirb daecos. otov, 0 eou Xopetos avvl(TTr)Ke 5 b e/c p.apKod Kal ^pax^os xpi>^ov, dpx^Tac S’ diro dlaecos. olov, ttCoKos. — Introd. Artis Musicse, p. 25. I refer to both these authors, as I find them in the Antiquse Musicse Auctores Septem ofMeibomius. — (Amstel, 1652.) Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. wonderful part of the mechanism of the human body, that this alterna- tion and distinction of heavy and light is (from the very structure and action of the organs of voice) inherent in all spoken language. There is, and must be, an action and reaction regularly going on, which is the foundation of all measure in speech ; and which serves so to regulate our utterance, whether in reading, public speaking, or common conver- sation, — that all spoken language may be divided into musical bars, which have their regular and proper beginning and ending. There is a measure in speech, ‘marked out and defined by a regular succession of action and reaction in the organs of voice, just as really and truly as there is in music. Now, in the action of the heart or beating of the pulse (and also in the ordinary process of respiration), the law of health is regularity: — so that the pulse beats tune : and, when that regularity of action is disturbed, the physician immediately recognises a symptom of disease ; — a fact which did not escape the observation of Shakespeare ; for he makes Hamlet say — ‘ “ My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep ti?7ie And makes as healthful musicC So also in walking — whether quickly or slowly — we naturally keep time (so that a whole party can, and do, comfortably walk together, and keep step with step) ; and if we see a man walking irregularly, and not keep- ing time, we at once begin to think there is something the matter with him. Thus it is also in speaking or reading. The Law of Nature enjoins regular time-keeping — a regular measured alternation of heavy and light. And if we violate this law, and invert the process — so that the alternation proceed from light to heavy — the effect would be offen- sive and strange (even to those who could not tell why). And if the law be broken in regard to the regularity of the alternation, stammering and stuttering will be the almost inevitable consequence.* “I am not here going to explain the anatomical mechanism, and its action, upon which this regular alternation depends. That would require * “On this point, the following remarkable passage occurs in Steele’s ‘Prosodia Rationalis ; ’ which is, to my mind, one of the most remarkable proofs of the accurate observation and penetrating judgment of the writer that can be found in the whole volume ; — “ ‘The disloobted order of the Poise (if any one could pronounce so) would give pain to an audience. “ ‘People who stutter pronounce partly in this latter manner ; but it is notorious, when such persons sing, they never hesitate or stutter ; whence it may be supposed, the most easy and effectual method of curing them would be to accustom them to beat time to their reading and common discourse, by which means they might learn to speak in just time to the proper measure of their words and phrases. For it should seem, the cause of their hesitation and stuttering arises from some inaptitude to fall in immediately with the rhythmical pulsation or poise befitting their words; but which, in singing, they are enabled to do by the additional influence of the diastematic melody^ wherein the cadences are more certainly pointed out than even in poetry, or any language, without additional music.’ “ The principle here so clearly enunciated by anticipation, as the result of scientific observation and reasoning, had been discovered, adopted, and acted upon by my father in the cure of impediments, before he had ever heard of Steele’s name ; and it was pursued by him, with great success, to the end of his life.” KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV, ie34 a lecture of itself. But I must urge upon your attention the importance of keeping in remembrance the threefold distinction to which I have referred. It is highly important in various points of view. It is impor- tant in connection with all scientific and judicious instruction as to the management of the voice \ and in correcting various defects into which public speakers are liable to fall. “In short, without continual reference to the distinct nature of Quantity j Accent, and Poise, we cannot explain the phenomena of spoken language. But when we are clear upon these points we may go on to the consideration of other points, important in their place, such as force and loudness (between which also a distinction must be noted), and the different ways in which e77iphasis may be expressed. “And here I would also observe, that the threefold distinction I have insisted on is well worthy of the attention of the classical scholar. We all know that the subject of the classical metres is one of great diffi- culty. Whether we shall ever be able so to understand it, as to enter fully into the harmony and beauty of the versification, and especially the lyrical versification, of Greece and Rome, may be greatly doubted. The accounts of the Greek metres which have come down to our times, are (as is well known) derived mainly from the writers of the Alexandrian school. That these, apart from the labours and researches of modern scholars, would afford us very little satisfaction, is, I believe, admitted by all who have looked into the subject. And, with regard to other departments of their labours, we all know that, while the Alexandrian grammarians have transmitted to us a vast amount of useful information, of which we are very glad to avail ourselves, yet we cannot follow them implicitly as guides. We did not begin to have clear and enlarged views of the Greek language, or to make much real progress in the knowledge t)f it, till we began to shake off their trammels, and to use their materials with independence of judgment, and with far deeper insight into the philosophy of language than they ever possessed. If we have found this to be the case, in regard to the principles of grammar, and the knowledge of the language in general, may it not be fairly assumed that we must pursue a similar process in regard to what they have left us on the sub- ject of prosody ? We may gladly make use of all the information which they have transmitted to us. But, before we can be prepared fully to understand what we find in their writings, or to judge how far to receive, and how far to correct or reject, their principles and conclusions, does it not seem necessary to call to our aid the discoveries of modern science, that we may investigate the true principles of all spoken language? And is it not evident, that this can be done with immense advantage, by investigating those principles, in the first instance, with reference to a living language — with reference to our own mother tongue ? for, if we take this course, we can bring very many questions to the test of observa- tion and experiment, which (if taken up in reference to a dead language) would inevitably be matters of mere speculation. But, with the help of such experiments and observations, we may be enabled clearly to discern what must, from the very conformation and action of our vocal and enunciative organs, be common to all languages. And thus alone Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 235 can we expect to be enabled rightly to understand, and duly to use, and wisely to correct, what ancient authors have handed down to our times. “And here I would more particularly observe, that, while learned authors have written with much erudition and with much ability, to point out the distinction between accent and quantity ; it is not probable — I think I may say it is not possible — that they should lead us to any truly satisfactory conclusions, so long as they seem themselves to be in darkness and confusion as to that threefold distinction on which I have already insisted. I will not venture upon the question, whether or no the view which has been taken of the nature of acce7it be the true and correct one. I am not desirous of entering into controversy on that point. But I cannot understand how it is possible for us to be in a right position to enter upon that inquiry until we have disentangled ourselves from that confusion which has resulted, and which must result, from using the one word accent to denote two things which are essentially distinct. We must, I think, distinguish between accent Tmd, poise, as well as between accent and quantity : we must, in short, distinguish poise from both acce7it and qua7itity, before we can have the whole question fairly before us. “But if these distinctions were clearly understood, and kept con- tinually in view, as Joshua Steele keeps them in view; if it were seen that these distinctions are involved in the very nature of all spoken language — that they result from the structure and action of the organs of voice ; and that they lie at the foundation of the measure and melody of all verse ; then I think that some of our young and aspiring scholars, who are yet in the vigour of their years, might apply themselves with great advantage to a more thorough investigation of the Classical Metres than has yet been accomplished. And I am persuaded that, in studying the science of Elocution, with reference first of all to a living language, they would be enabled to discover principles which would lead them to a simple and natural solution of some of the anomalies of the Homeric versification ; in regard to which some of the explanations which have been attempted seem little better than, guesses, which do not rest upon clear and definite principles. I therefore earnestly and confidently invite the attention of men of science, and men of literature, to the system which I endeavour to explain, and to the principles which I propound, as the foundation of that system of instruction which I pursue.” Convinced as I am of the soundness of the views held by Mr. Thelwall, and so learnedly supported by him in the lecture from which I have just given an extract, I have always, you may have possibly remarked, refrained from ever using the term accent in the sense of * “Suppose, for instance, that careful observation should detect the continual use of a Digamnia in our language. If it could be shown that the formation of such an ele- ment is involved, of necessity, in the natural action of the organs of voice, in passing from one vowel to another; and that this element is naturally an element of quantity, of which the tendency is, to convert the preceding vowel into a diphthong ; would not this go far to help us in thoroughly understanding and appreciating the force of the Digamma in the versification of Homer ? KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 23(3 inflection of the voice. No terms can better define what are commonly called accented and unaccented syllables or words than those of heavy and light ; for there is or should be always a decided weight of the voice on the former that makes them heavy, and a corresponding lighLiess of the voice on the latter, that keep up together this alternation of thesis and a7'sis. Now as I said in one of my earlier lectures, the ligaments of the larynx or vocal cords {cordcz vocales) are acted upon in different ways, by various minute muscles of wonderful delicacy, connected with the several cartilages I then enumerated. You will remember how I then explained that they must be brought into a certain position in order to produce sound or voice at all ; for in the ordinary state (when we are not desiring or attempting to speak) the air passes in and out of the lungs through the vocal cords without producing any sound whatever in a state of health. But when these vocal cords have been brought into the vocalising position, their precise relation to each, and to the breath which passes between them, must be so modified as to produce all the varieties of high and low in the musical scale, as I have already stated, at greater length, and this seems to be effected chiefly at least by contracting or expanding, and so delicately modifying the size of the aperture. Now it is by a regular action and reaction that these marvellous vocal cords produce and keep up that alternation which is so well termed poise., or that regular succession of the heavy and the light., which is the foundation of all fluency and measure in speech, as well as in song. This, then, is produced by a slight but decided action between the thyroid and cricoid cartilages, which occasions an alternate tension and relaxation of the vocal cords. You will find that in many careful and elaborate works on the anatomy and physiological functions of the larynx, this most important action and reaction is overlooked, and it is only comparatively recently that attention has been directed to it, especially by those who have given their attention to the cure of stammering, and the removal of other impediments of speech. The truth is that poise., or the regular alterna- tion of heavy and light, has until the last thirty years been almost entirely forgotten, alike by physiologists and the great majority of the practical teachers of Elocution, as well as by those who have written works on the subject. The natural consequence was that in consider- ing the structure and physiology of the larynx, no notice whatever was taken of the mechanism and action by means of which this alternation is produced; and yet without due attention to this point, the most accurate and scientific anatomist and physiologist will not be able to explain satisfactorily the other functions of the larynx. We ought to have, and indeed must have, clearly before our minds, all the several functions of that most wonderful, complex, and important organ to the human race, and the various phenomena which have to be accounted for, before we can be prepared to investigate its various parts and the special action of each, by means of which the various functions are performed, and each of the’ phenomena produced. Without these distinctions being carefully borne in mind, we may possibly attempt to explain one function, by reference to the means which are really Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 237 employed to carry on another, and hence all kinds of mistakes may arise. Now, that such regular alternate action and reaction is in fact con- tinually going on, may indeed be felt distinctly with the finger, if you place it just between the thyroid and cricoid cartilages. Indeed, as Mr. Thelwall truly said on the occasion I alluded to, this is wholly “ distinct from, and independent of, the varieties of loud and soft, forcible and feeble, high and low in the musical scale, and long and short in regard to the relative quantity of the syllables which form a bar in music or a foot in verse : it continues to take place in the absence of sonorous vibration, when the voice is hushed down to a mere whisper. Hence, in the nature of things poise, or the alternation of heavy and light {thesis and arsis), must be essentially distinct from acute and grave, long and short, loud and soft. Insomuch that the heavy syllable may be either long or short, acute or grave; nay, although, cceteris paribus, the heavy syllable is more forcible than the light, and, ihorefore, forcible might be more naturally confounded with heavy than ac 2 ite or long ; yet these are really distinct — insomuch that, in the almost imperceptible interval between a light syllable and the heavy one which naturally follows it in the succeeding bar, the voice might drop from its loudest elevation to a mere whisper, and yet the whispered syllable would still retain its proper poise — it would still be heavy Many persons naturally carry out this poise admirably in delivery with- out ever having had any instruction in Elocution, especially those persons who are possessed of strong feelings, lively imaginations, and warm tem- perament, and particularly when they are speaking in public, or reading aloud any powerful descriptive or dramatic passage. Others, on the contrary, who are of cold, lethargic, unimpassioned temperament, or languid health, allow only the slightest amount of range of action and reaction to be perceptible, and hence the poise is inadequately main- tained, and the delivery in reading or speaking is poor, tame, and feeble, void of all proper expression, and often accompanied with a tendency to stammer or stutter. Indeed some of the worst cases of impediments of speech among the pupils who have come to me for their removal, I have found to arise chiefly from an almost total neglect from childhood of this important function of the larynx in properly carrying out its action and reaction or poise. The aim of the skilled and experienced instructor in elocution should be in all cases, but especially such as I have mentioned last, to show the pupil, by his own practical illustration first, and then by the pupil carefully following out his instructions, how the larynx can best be made to exercise the functions of action and reaction effectively, and so properly carry out the poise, without which all delivery must be ineffective, and neither poetry, blank verse, nor any other kind of rhythmical structure can be rightly rendered, or proper time in reading such compositions truly observed. In fact, all English verse is constructed, and must be pronounced, with a regular succession and alternation of heavy and light syllables. No heavy sounds can successively follow each other without a slight pause occurring between them, the tmie of which 7night serve for the sound of a ligV.i syllable. 238 AGING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. Let US cake the following signs, which my preciecessor here used for his pupils in the exercises which he made them go through in illustrating the doctrine of the poise. This mark A shall signify the heavy syllables, this the light syllables, while an omitted heavy syllable we will indicate by this mark • , and an omitted light syllable by this o, and a vertical line I shall be our time measurer, and separate the verse into its proper bars. As I have said already, the natural order of verse, and of its harmonious rendering in delivery, is from action to reaction, or from pulsation to remission, that is, from heavy to light. It is certain that the first bar of every line in poetry must have one syllable in thesis, or a heavy syllable, and though it may be followed by two or more in arsis, or light syllables (and perhaps, for the sake of simplicity and uniformity, we had better henceforth speak only of syllables which are heavy and those which are light), yet it is equally certain that tivo heavy syllables cannot be contained in one bar. That which is called in poetry common measure, consists of bars of which each begins with a heavy syllable and ends with a light one, as the following illustration from an old poet of the seventeenth century will show us : — Wit’s per- fection. Beauty’s wonder A A A A Nature’s pride, the Graces’ Treasure. A /. A A A /. Triple measure is so called because it consists of three syllables in each bar, of which the first is heavy, and the two that follow in succession light. A well-known couplet from Dryden’s “Alexander’s Feast” will supply us with a good illustration — The • o princes ap- A plaud with a A /. furious A.-. A joy A o o And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to de- stroy A A A A 00 You will often find that a very pleasing and melodious variety of rhythm is introduced by artistically uniting common with triple measure, as well as by the judicious introduction of what are termed hnperfect measures. Now in reading these imperfect measures, as they are called, remember pauses (of which I shall have to speak more fully here- after) must compensate or make up the time, which the fidl measure requires, for do not forget that pause is just as much an element of rhythm as sound ; and bear in mind, also, that when you are reading aloud poetry of which the accurate conveyance in delivery requires the observance of rhetorical pauses, such pauses must occupy the full time of the regular measure — that is to say, every heavy syllable must be followed by either a light syllable or the time of one, and every light syllable must either be preceded by a heavy syllable, or else the time of the omitted syllable must be compensated for by a pause. Let us take these lines in illustration of examples of pause, and of imperfect measures : — Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 239 Ye sprites who oft as fancy calls A A 0 0 0 A 0 A • . A A 0 0 thou that with sur- passing glory crowned Ao Ao 9 0 Ao 9 .* A /. A.*. A 0 0 • dark dark dark a- mid the blaze of noon Ao A 0 A 0 A 0 A A A 0 Covering the beach and blackening all the strand. A . A 0 9 .*. A A /. A 0 In pronouncing certain important or rhetorical words, as they are sometimes termed — that is to say, the words with which the rhetorician desires to make the most impression on his auditors — the heavy and light percussion may, as Mr. Bell, a well-known teacher of Elocution in Dublin, truly remarks, take place not unfrequently on 07 ie syllable ; the time of the simple sound being, as it were, distinguished and extended by a connected kind of swell and fall of the voice, as thus : — Hail holy light offspring of heaven first- A.*. 9 0 A/. A 0 A .. . A A.'. born A.-. Brought Death into the world and all our A 0 A.*. A. .. A 0 9 .'. A woe A.*. Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt A.-. 9 0 A A.-. A.'. A.’. A 0 9 .'. A.-. The number of measures in a line, either caused by sound or pause^ is immaterial, so that the time of each is regularly preserved. You will also have noticed that the weight of the voice in reading these illustrations has varied much in point of degree as it pronounced the heavy syllables of the words. As a general rule, I may remark that a greater degree of weight is given by the percussion of the voice on the heavy syllables of nouns and verbs than on the other words in a sentence, as they are usually the most important. Indeed the latter must always be considered as a rhetorical word ; for it is in fact what its origin iyei'bum) imports, the word of the sentence, or that which (to quote from Archbishop Trench’s admirable book “On the Study of Words”) constitutes, as it were, the soul of the sentence, and gives it all its power and vitality. Sheridan in his third lecture alludes to one fault which he says was very common in his day among public speakers, and more especially among actors on the stage, and that was making light syllables improperly heavy, so that such persons, for instance, instead of saying “ horror, nature. delightful, forgiveness,” as they ought to .-. A A words thus — “horror, nature, delightful, A A A A AAA A .-. A .*. do, would pronounce the forgiveness,” AAA thereby im- properly making every syllable heavy. He asserts that in his time 240 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. (1766), the chief fault of theatrical pronunciation consisted in this; and adds that, in his opinion, there can hardly be a greater fault in pro- nunciation, for it is an offence against the very constitution of our language. Has this fault ceased to exist among our present preachers, speakers, or readers, or has it altogether passed away from our modern actors and actresses ? All persons, says Sheridan, who are tolerably well educated, and pronounce English words properly, of course lay this weight (or accent^ as he and all other writers before Steele’s time termed this percussion of the voice) properly and on the right syllables and words, and do not use it when it ought not to be employed ; and in conversation no faults of this nature are commonly observable. But many, when they come to read or speak in public, begin at once to transgress the rules of poise as well as quantity, and light syllables are made heavy and short vowels long. This arises from a mistaken notion, entertained by some, that words are rendered more distinct to a large assembly by making all the syllables of words heavy, and all the vowels that are short more or less improperly long; and some would seem to think that it adds to the solemnity and impressiveness of a sermon, speech, or recitation, if everything is made different from what it properly ought to be and usually is in private discourse. The elements of poise and quantity may be intensified according to the strength of the emotion we have to express, and the size of the area we have to fill with the voice, but never violated by making light syllables heavy, and short syllables long. Any error in this respect at once gives an artificial air to language so delivered in public; inasmuch as it differs from the usual, and what is called natural, manner of utterance, and is on that account, of all others, to be avoided most by public speakers, whose business it is industriously to conceal all appearance of art ; and especially should this be avoided by actors and actresses, whose very office it is, in Shakespeare’s phrase, “ to hold as ’twere the mirror up to nature.” If any one, says Sheri- dan, pronounces the words “fortune, encroachment, conjecture, grati- A .-.A .-.A.*. A.-. tude, to-morrow, happiness, patience,” as “ fortune, encroachment, con .'. .-.A..'. A.*. .-.A AA AA A A jecture, gratitude, to-morrow, happiness, patience,” he does not use A A AAA AA A AA AAA words, at least English words, but disjointed syllables ; and yet this is an error into which many persons fall when they desire to speak with what they think to be becoming gravity and solemnity ; and all this is done for want of knowing in what true solemnity of delivery consists, which, though it may demand in point of time a slower utterance than usual, yet requires that the same proportion, as regards poise and quantity, be observed on the syllables, as is the case in musical notes in an air which, however, may be played or sung in quicker or in slower time. The true rule, and the only one, in my opinion, consistent with good taste, is for all public speakers who can pronounce English properly to lay the weight of the voice always on the same syllable, and the same letters of the syllable, which they would in ordinary discourse, and to Lect. XIV.] Oy ELOCUTION. 241 take special care that they do not lay any weight or stress upon any other syllable, unless there be a reason for it, as when we desire to suggest an antithesis ; as, for instance, when I say, “ This is my book,” A implying not yours or any other person’s book, or, “ and when you have read it put it on the table,” meaning, “and not under the table.” This A is a rule so plain, simple, and easy to be remembered, that nothing but affectation, or bad habits contracted from imitating others, can prevent its always being observed and properly carried out. And yet the want of knowing or attending to this rule is one of the chief sources of that artificial mode of reading and speaking in public which is so often observed, and which is so justly complained of by persons of refined ear and cultivated taste. On the whole, it may be said that there are few points in our language so well settled as the question on what syllables in words the weight or stress should be thrown. But still there are, it is true, some few words that have occasioned disputes as to what syllable should receive the stress or weight of the voice ; and of course, where reasonable doubt exists, every man is at liberty to choose the mode of pronunciation which seems to him the best; and in giving the preference, the ear ought, beyond all doubt, to be consulted as to that which is the most euphonious mode of pronunciation. It will be perceived, from what I have already said, how close is the analogy between the rhythm of speech and that of song ; and in the rhythmical illustrations which I have given of the former, it will be seen that the principle on which they are divided into bars is essentially the same as in the latter. In music, the strong accent, also called the down-beat, always falls immediately after the har-lme ; and if we take any melody, and desire to mark the accents or down-beats, we must draw a bar- line before each strong or down-beat of the melody. Thus, whether we sing a fine song, play a grand piece, recite a beautiful poem, or deliver an impassioned oration, the rendering of all will fall naturally into bars, and time may be marked and beaten to them all on the same principle ; and whenever the true orator uses gesture, he does it unconsciously and automatically, on this very principle. In Mr. Herbert Spencer’s third edition of his “System of Synthetic Philosophy,” * there is a most interesting chapter in the first volume en- titled “The Rhythm of Motion,” the whole of which will well repay the most attentive perusal. But there is one passage in it, at p. 265, bearing so closely upon the subject of this lecture, that I cannot refrain from giving you the quotation at length. Mr. Spencer says : — “A much more conspicuous rhythm, having longer waves, is seen during the outflow of emotion into poetry, music, and dancing. The current of mental energy that shows itself in these modes of bodily action is not continuous, but falls into a succession of pulses Poetry is a form of speech which results when the emphasis is regularly recurrent ; that is, when the muscular effort of pronunciation has definite periods * Williams «& Norgate, London. Q 2l2 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. of greater and less intensity — periods that are complicated with others of like nature answering to the successive verses. Music in still more various ways exemplifies the law. There are recurring bars in each of which there is a primary and a secondary beat. There is the alternate increase and decrease of muscular strain implied by the ascents and descents to the higher and lower notes, ascents and descents composed of smaller waves, breaking the rises and falls of the larger ones in a mode peculiar to each melody. And then we have further the alterna- tion of piano and forie passages. That these several kinds of rhythm characterising aesthetic expression are not, in the common sense of the word, artificial, but are intenser forms of an undulatory movement, habi- tually generated by feeling in its bodily discharge, is shown by the fact that they are all traceable in ordmary speech ; which in every sentence has its primary and secondary emphasis^ and its cadence, containing its chief rise and fall, complicated with subordinate rises and falls, and which is accompanied by a more or less oscillatory action of the limbs when the emotion is great.” The whole of this admirable chapter is well worthy the closest study, and abounds in materials for thought and reflection. As an exercise in the art of acquiring and properly maintaining poise, or the distinction between words or syllables which are heavy and those which are light when reading poetry or prose, I append the follow- ing Illustrations, selected from a very useful little manual by Mr. R. G. Parker, entitled “ Progressive Exercises in Rhetorical Reading.” * Illustrations for Practice. Hohenlinden. 7 On Linden 77 when the sun was low A /. A A ••• A A A A 7 All bloodless 77 1 lay the un- trodden snow A A A 1 A A A /. A 77 7And dark as winter 7 was the flow A /. A A /. A A A A 7 Of Iser rolling rapidly.* 77 A A A A t i A 7 But Linden 77 1 saw an- othei A A . ! A A A 77 sight A A When the drum beat 1 7at dead of night A A A A A 1 A A A A 7 Com- A man ding A A fires of A /. death A /. 7 to A A 7 The darkness 7 of her scenery. 77 A A A A light A A 77 Allman, 463 Oxford Street, price is. Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 243 7 By torch and trumpet 77 fast ar- r A A A /. A A Each horseman drew his battle blade A A A A A A 7 And A furious A/. A 77 every AA A charger A /. 7 To join the dreadful revelry. 77 7 A.'. A /. A A A A 77 neighed A Then shook the hills Ywith thunder riven A A A A A A A A Then rushed the steed 17 to battle Iriven A A A A 1 A.-. A A A 77 7And louder than the bolts of heaven 77 A A /. A A A /. Far flashed 7 the 1 red 7ar. tillery. 77 77| A A A A A 1 A A A.'. A A A 7And redder yet 7 those fires shall A A A A A A glow A A 7 On Linden’s hills of A /. A A blood-stained A /. snow A A 77 7 And darker yet 7 shall be the flow A A A A A A A A A A 7 Of Iser rolling rapidly. 77 77 A A 7’Tis A A A morn A A A . 77 A A 7 but A scarce A A yon A A lurid A sun A A 7 Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun A A A A A 7 Where A furious Frank 7 and 1 fiery A A A A A A A IaAA 77 Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 77 A A A 77 Hun A.'. 77 7 The combat deepens 77 77 On 7 ye brave A A A A A A.-. A 7 Who A rush to A glory A A 77 7 or the A /. grave A 77 Wave 77 Munich 77 all thy banners wave 77 A A A A A 77 7 And charge 7 with all 7 t>iy chivalry. 77 A A A A A A A A 77| Few few shall part where many meet 77 77 A A A A A A A A A A A 244 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 7 The snow 7 shall be their winding sheet 771 A A A A A /. A A 1 7 And every turf 7be- neath their feet A A A A A A AA A A A 7 Shall be a soldier’s sepulchre 77 77 A A A A A A A [The pupil will observe that prose as well as poetry is made up of similar measures of speech. The only difference in sound, between poetry and prose, is that poetry or verse consists of a regular succession of similar measures, which produce an harmonious impression on the ear; while in prose the different kinds of measure occur promiscuously without any regular succession. The following example affords au instance of prose divided off into measures,] Revelations, Chap. v. ii. And I be- held 7 and I heard the voice of A A A A A .* . A A . round a- bout the throne 7 and the beasts A A A .-. A .-. A many A 7 and the A A angels AA elders 7 .-. 7 and the number of them 7 was ten 7 thousand times A A A A A A A A ten 7 thousand 7and thousands of thousands 77 Saying with A . •. A A A A A .-. A A .' a loud voice 1 77 Worthy is the Lamb that was slain7 A A A A 1 A A A re- ceive power 7 and riches 7 and wisdom 7 and A A A A A A A A strength 7 and honour 7 and glory 7 and blessing. A A A A A A A A 3 - [In the following extracts the marks of the accented and unaccented syllables are omitted, but the bars and rests are retained. The usual punctuation is also restored ] Part of the Ninth Chapter of St. John. And as | Jesus | passed | by, 7 | 7 I ^ I which was blind from his | birth. | 77 77 I I ciples | asked him, saying, | Master, | who did sin, | 7 this | man | 7 or his | parents, that he was | born 7 | blind? 1771771 Josus | answered, | Nei- ther hath this | man | sinned | nor his | parents : | 77 I hut that the | works of I God | 7 should be | made 7 1 manifest in | him.77 I 77 I I must I work the | works of | him that | sent me, | while it is | day ; | 77 1 7 the I night | cometh | 7 when | no 7 | I'uan | can 7 | work .7 | 7 7 1 7 7 I 7 I ^ong I 7 ^s I lam in the | world, 7 | I | am the 1 light I 7 of the | world. | 77 | 77 | When he had | thus 7 | Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 245 spoken, | 7 I ^pat on the | ground, 7 | 7 I n^ade | clay | 7 of the I spittle, I and he a- | nointed the | eyes7 | 7 of the | blind | man 7 with the I clay,7 | 7 I him, | Go, 7 I wash in the pool of I Siloam, | 7 7 I (which is, by in- | terpre- | tation, | Sent,) 7 717 717 went his | way, | therefore, | */ and | washed, 7 and I came | seeing. | 7 7 I 7 7 I 7 The I neighbours, | therefore, | 7 ^^d | they which be- | fore had I seen him, | that he was | blind, | 7 7 I 7 I ^ot | this 7 he that I sat and | begged ? | 7 7 I 7 7 I Some | said, 7 I This | is he j I 7 7 I others | said, 7 I is [ like him : | 7 7 I 7 I ^0 said, 171 am I he. | 77 I 77 I Therefore said they unto him, 77 I How were thine | eyes | opened? | 77 771 7^o | answered and I said, | 7 ^ I I 7 I oalled | Jesus | made | clay, 7 and a- | nointed mine | eyes, | 7 and | said unto me, | Go to the pool of I Siloam, | 7 and | wash: 7 I 77 I 7 ^ I went and washed, | *7 and I re- | ceived | sight. 1771771 Then | said they unto him not. I 77 7 They blind. Where I is he ? | 7 7 I 7 I ^0 | said, | 7 7 I ^ know 77 brought to the | Pharisees | him that a- | fore time | 7 was 77 I ^t was the | Sabbath | day 7 I 7 when | Jesus made the | clay, | 7 and | opened his | eyes. | 7 7 I Then a- | gain the I Pharisees | also | asked him | howhehadre- | ceived his | sight. 7717 He I said unto | them, | 7 He | put 7 | olay 7 | 7 upon mine eyes, | 7 and I | washed | and do | see. | 7 7 I 7 7 I "I'herefore said some of the | Pharisees, | 7 This | man is | not of | God, | 7 because 7 he I keepeth not the | Sabbath | day. | 7 7 I I 7 I How can a | man that is a | sinner | do such | miracles ? | 7 7 I there was I 7 a di- I vision a- | mong them. 17717717 They say | unto the I blind | man a- | gain, 717 71 ^hat | sayest | thou of him ? that he hath | opened thine I eyes ? | 7 7 I 7 7 I ^ prophet. 1771771 Psalm cxxxix. O I Lord, 7 I thou hast | searched me, | 7 and | known me. 1 77 I 77 I 7 Thou I knowest my | down | sitting | 7 and mine | up- *] | ris- ing; 1 7 thou I under- | standestmy | thoughts | 7 a- | far | off .7 | 7 I 77 I Thou I compassest my | path, 7 i 7 I I down, 7 | and art ac- | quaintedwith | all my | ways. | 77 I For there is | not a | word in my | tongue, | 7 but | lo, 7 | O 7 | Lord, | thou 7 | knowest it I alto- I gether. | 7 7 I 7 7 I Thou hast be- | set me | 7 be- | hind and be- | fore, 7 I 7 | laid thine | hand up- | on me. 177177 Such7 I knowledge is | too | wonderful for | me : | 77 i F is | high,7 7 I I cannot at- | tain unto it. | 7 7 I 7 7 I Whither shall I | go 7 7 from thy | spirit ? | 7 7 I 7 I whither shall I | flee from thy | pre- sence ? 1771771 ff I 1 7 1 up into I heaven, | 7 7 1 ^bou art I there : | 7 7 I I I niake my | bed in | hell, | 7 be- | hold, 7 thou art | there. | 7 7 1 7 7 1 H I | take the | wings of the | morning, 7 and I dwell in the | uttermost | parts of the | sea : | 7 7 1 Even 246 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. there | 7 shall thy | hand 7 I me, | 7 2 ,nd thy | right 7 I h^nd shall I hold me. 7 7 I 7 7 I ^ I I Surely the | darkness shall cover me : I 77 I night 7 1 7 I a- | bout me : 7 7 I Yea, I 7 the darkness | hideth not from | thee : | 7 7 I hut the night I shineth as the | day : | 7 7 I 7 the | darkness I and the light 7 I 7 are I both a- j like | 7 to j thee. 1771771 5- Marco Bozzaris. 7 At I midnight, | 7 7 I his | guarded | tent, 7 | 7 The I Turk | 7 '' as | dreaming | 7 the [ hour, | 7 When I Greece, [ 7 her | knee in | suppliance | bent, 7 | 7 Should I tremble | 7 ut his | power; | 77 I 7^n I dreams, | 7 through | camp and ] court, 7 | 7he | bore 7 [ 7The I trophies | 7 of a | conqueror. | In I dreams, | 7 his | song of | triumph | heard ; | 7 7 I 7 7 I Then 7 | wore his | monarch’s | signet | ring, | 7 7 I Then 7 | press’d that | monarch’s | throne, | 77 17^1 ^^ng;7 1 77 I 7As I wild his | thoughts,7 | 7 ^nd | gay of | wing,7 | 7 As I Eden’s | garden j bird .7 | 7 7 | 7 7 | 7 At I midnight, | 7 in the | forest- | shades, [771 7 Boz- I zaris | ranged his | Suliote | band, | 7 7 I True I 7 as the | steel | 7 of their | tried I blades, | Heroes | 7 in | heart and | hand ; | 7 7 I 7 7 I There had the | Persian’s | thousands | stood, 7 | There | 7 had the | glad 7 | earth 7 | drunk their | blood 7 1 7 I On I old Pla- | taea’s j day : | 7 And I now, 7 | 7 there | breathed that | haunted | air 7 1 The I sons | 7 of | sires who | conquered | there, 7 | 7 With I arm to | strike 7 I 7 ^nd | soul to | dare, | 7 As I quick 7 i 7 7 I 7 as I far as I they. 7 | 7 7 | 7 7 | 7 An I hour pass’d | on ; 7 | 7 7 I 7 the | Turk a- | woke : | 7 7 I That 7 I bright 7 | dream | 7 was his | last ; 7 I 7 7 I 7 He 1 woke, 7 | 7 to | hear his | sentry’s shriek, | 7 “P'o I arms! | 7 they | come! I 7 the | Greek,7 | 7 the | Greek.”7 f 7 He I woke, to | die | 7 uaidst | flame and | smoke, 7 | 7 Attd I shout, and | groan, and | sabre-stroke, 7 | 7 717 ^nd I death-shots | falling | thick and | fast 7 | 7 As I lightnings | 7 from the | mountain | cloud ; 7 I 7 7 1 7 And I heard, 7 7 Boz- I zaris 77 I “Strike 7 7 with cheer his 7 till the 'Strike 7 7 I 7 ^or your | a voice as | thunder | loud, 7 | band ; | last I armed | foe ex- | pires, 71771 tars I 7 aud your | fires, 71771 Strike | 7 for the | green | graves of your | sires, | 7 7 God 7 I 7 and your j native j land !” 7 1 7 7 | 7 7 They | fought, 7 | 7 hke | brave | men, 7 | long and | well, 7 17 71 7 They | piled that [ ground | 7 with | Moslem | slain, 7 1 Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION 247 7 They I conquer’d, I 7 7 I 7 Boz- | zaris | fell, 7 | 7 7 I Bleeding at | every | vein .7 | 7 7 I 7 7 I 7 His few sur- | viving | comrades 7 7 I 7 I 7 His smile, | 7 when | rang their proud 7 | hurrah, ] And the | red 7 | field 7 | was | won ; 7 I 7 7 I Then | saw in | death 7 | 7 I eyelids | close 7 | Calmly, I as to a | night’s re- | pose, 7 | 7 Like I flowers at | set of sun. 717 71771 6 . Antony’s Oration over Caesar’s Body. Friends, I 7 7 I Romans, | 7 7 ears; I 771 771 7 I I come 7 771771 Countrymen ! | 7 7 I Lend me your Caesar, | 7 7 1 I Praise | him. 7 The evil, | 7 tBat | men | do, | lives | after them ; | 7 7 I 7 The good | 7 I I terred | 7 with their | bones : | 7 7 So let it I be I 7 with | Caesar •' | 7 7 I 7 I noble | Brutus | 7 Hath I told you, | Caesar | 7 was am- | bitious. | 7 7 I If it I were so, | it was a | grievous | fault ; | 7 7 I 7 And I grievously | 7 Bath | Caesar | answered it. | 7 7 Here, | under | leave of | Brutus | 7 and the | rest. 7 (For I Brutus | 7 is an | honourable So are they | all, 7 | all | honourable | men ;) Come I I 7 to I speak | 7 in Caesar’s | funeral 77 77 177 77 He was my | friend, | 7 7 I faithful | 7 and | just to me : | 7 7 I 7 But I Brutus I says | he was am- | bitious ; | 7 7 I 7 717 -^nd I Brutus | 7 is an | honourable | man. | 7 7 I 7 7 I He hath | brought | many | captives | home to | Rome, | 7 Whose I ransoms | 7 did the | general | coffers | fill ; | 7 7 I 7 7 I 7 Did I this I 7 in I Caesar | seem am- | bitious ? j 7 7 I 7 7 I When that the ] poor have [ cried, | 7 7 1 Caesar hath | wept j | 7 7 771 A Am- I bition | 7 should be | made of | sterner | stuff. 17 7177 7 Yet I Brutus | says | 7 he | was am- | bitious ; 1 7 7 I 7 And J Brutus j 7 is an | honourable | man. | 7 7 | 7 7 | 7 You I all did | see, | 7 that, | on the | Lupercal, | 7 I I thrice pre- | sented him | 7 ^ I kingly | crown ; | 7 7 I Which he did | thrice I 7 re- I fuse. 17 717 W^s I this am- bition? I 77 I 77 I 7 Yet I Brutus | says | he was am- | bitious; 7 And I sure, | 7 he | is | 7 an | honourable 77i man. 77 7 717^1 speak not | 7 to dis- | prove | what | Brutus | spoke ; I 7 But I here | I am to | speak | what I do | know. 17717 71 7 You I all did | love him | once ; | 7 7 1 not without | cause : j 77 What I cause with- | holds you | then, | 7 to | mourn for him ? 1 7 7 248 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. O I judgment, 1771 I 1 brutish | beasts, | 7 7 1 7 And 1 men | 7 have 1 lost their 1 reason ! | 7 7 I 7 7 1 bear with me : | 7 7 7 1 heart 7 1 is in the | coffin 1 there 1 7 with 1 Caesar ; | 7 7 I i^^st 1 pause 7 1 tili it 1 come | back to me. 17717 71 7 But 1 yesterday, 1 7 the 1 word of 1 Caesar | might 1 7 Have I stood a- | gainst the 1 world 117 71 1 lies he | there, 1 7717 1 none 1 so 1 poor 1 7 to 1 do him 1 reverence. 17 71 771 0 1 masters ! 1 7 7 1 ^ ^i^' 1 POs’d to stir 1 7 Your I hearts and 1 minds 1 7 to 1 mutiny and | rage, 1 1 should do Brutus 1 wrong, 1 7 ^nd 1 Cassius 1771 wrong; 1 7 7 1 Who, 7 I all 1 know, | 7 1 honourable | men. | 7 7 1 771 y I 1 will not 1 do 1 them 1 wrong ^ 7 7 1 7 7 1 ^ 1 rather 1 choose 1 y To 1 wrong the 1 dead, | 7 to | wrong my- | self 1 7 a-nd | you, | Than I will | wrong | such 7 1 honourable 1 men. 17717 71 7 But I here’s a 1 parchment 1 7 wuth the 1 seal of 1 Caesar : 1 7 I 1 found it 1 7 in his 1 closet ; 1 7 7 1 ’bis his | will : | 7 7 1 Let but the 1 commons | hear | 7 this | testament, 1771 7 (Which, 1 pardon me, | 7 I 1 do not | mean to 1 read) — 7 7 1 And they would 1 go 1 7 ^.nd | kiss | dead | Caesar’s \ wounds, | 7 And 1 dip their 1 napkins | 7 in his | sacred | blood; j 7 7 1 Aea, 1 beg a | hair of him | 7 for | memory, | 7 And I dying, | 7 7 1 niention it 1 within their | wills, 1 7717 be- 1 queathing it | 7 as a | rich 7 | legacy, | Unto their issue. 17 71771 If you have 1 tears, 1 7 pre- 1 pare to 1 shed them 1 now, | 77 1 77 I 7 You I all do 1 know 1 this | mantle : | 7 7 M | member 1 7 The 1 first 1 time | ever 1 Caesar | put it | on ; | 7 7 1 summer’s | evening | 7 in his | tent; | 77 1 7 he 1 overcame the | Nervii : | 7 7 1 7 Twas on a That 1 day Look, I 7 in I this 1 place 771 See what a 1 rent 1 7 tbe 1 envious 1 Casca | made : 1 7 7 ! 7 7 I Through 1 this | 7 the 1 well be- | loved 1 Brutus | stabbed, | 7 7 1 ran | Cassius’ 1 dagger | through 117 71 77 77 And as he 1 plucked his 1 cursed | steel a- | way 1 Mark 7 1 how the 1 blood of 1 Caesar | followed it ! 1771771 This 1 7 was the 1 most un- | kindest 1 cut of all : 1 7 717 bor 1 when the | noble 1 Caesar | saw him 1 stab, | 7 In- 1 gratitude, 1 7 niore | strong than | traitor’s 1 arms, | Quite 1 vanquished him : | 7 7 1 then 1 burst his | mighty 1 heart ; | 771 And in his 1 mantle, 17 71 nauffling up his 1 face 17 71 Even at the 1 base of 1 Pompey’s | statue, 1 Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 249 y my I countrymen ! 17 717 7 you, I 7 and f all of us, | fell | down, | treason | flourished | over us. | 7 7 I 7 7 I weep ; I 7 7 I 7 and I per- | ceive | 7 yon | feel, pity ; I 7 7 I I 7 77 77 gracious | drops, | 7 7 I 7 717 (Which I all the I while | ran | blood,) | 7 7 1 g^'^at | Caesar | fell. 1771771 , , O what a | fall | 7 was ] there Then | I, | 7 and Whilst 7 1 bloody Oh ! I now you 7 The I dint of 771 Kind I souls; | 77 I I weep you 7 Our I Caesar’s I vesture 1 wounded ? 771771 Here is him- | self, | 7 7 I nearr’d | 7 as you | see, 1 7 ^>7 | traitors, 771771 Good I friends, [ sweet | friends, | 7 7 I I I 7 To I such a I sudden | flood of | mutiny. 1771 7 7 I They that have | done this | deed, | 7 are | honourable : | 77 I What I private | griefs | 7 they | have, | 7 a- | las!I | know not, when you but be- 77 1 Look you 1 hold here ! 7 That I made them | do it : | 7 7 I are able, I 7 And I will 7 I I doubt, | 7 with | reason 771 l: ise, I 7 and | honour- I answer you. | 7 7 I 7 I I come not, | friends, 7 I steal away | 7 yonr \ hearts ; | 7 7 I I am I no | orator, | 7 as Brutus is ; | 7 7 I Lut as you | know me | all, | 7 a | plain | blunt | man, | 7 That I love my | friend; | 7 7 I 7 [ that | they | know | full | well : I 7 That I gave me | public | leave | 7 to | speak of him. | 7 7 I 7 7 I For I have | neither | wit, | 7 rior | words, | 7 rior | worth, | 7 7 I Action, I 7 rior | utterance, | 7 oor the | power of | speech, | 7 To I stir 1 men’s | blood. | 7 7 1 7 ^ 1 speak | right | on : | 7 7 I 7 I I tell you I that | 7 which | you yourselves | 7 do | know ; | 7 7 I Show you I sweet | Csesar’s | wounds, | 7 7 I poor, | poor | dumb I mouths, | 7 And I bid [ them [ speak | for me. | 7 7 I 7 7 I Lut were 1 I | Bru- tus, I 7 And I Brutus | Antony, | 7 7 I diere were an | Antony [ 7 Would I ruffle | up your | spirits, | 7 7 I 7 and | put a | tongue | 7 In I every | wound of | Caesar, 1 7 that should | move | 7 The I stones of ] Rome [ 7 1 dse in [ mutiny. 1771771 The preceding examples, including both poetry and prose, it is thought, will be sufficient to explain the principle embraced in this lesson, entitled the “ Measure of Speech.” The pupil should endeavour, in all his reading exercises, to form the sentences, whether of poetry or prose, into measures, for the purpose of reading with facility and with- out fatigue. The pauses or rests which occur in the imperfect measures will afford him an opportunity of taking breath at such intervals, that. 250 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XIV. in the words of a modern writer, “ Reading will cease to be laborious, and the sense will be rendered clear, as far as it is dependent on the capital point of the distribution of time or measure.” The principle explained in this lesson, when well understood and judiciously applied, will make the pupil acquainted with the nature of all the different kinds of versification ; for he will perceive that all the varieties of poetry (or verse) are dependent upon the regular succession of the various mea- sures of speech. On this subject the student may also read with considerable advan- tage the Lecture on “Vocal Expression,” delivered at the Royal Academy of Music by Mr. Charles Lunn, on 17th May 1878.* * Published by Lucas, Weber, & Co., 84 New Bond Street, price is. LECTURE XV. Emphasis — Definition of the term — Its use and abuse — Illustrations — Varying Degrees of Emphasis — Selections for Practice — The Use of the Elements of the Forte and Piano in Elocution, and their varying Degrees — Selections for Practice — The Slnr in Elocution — Its uses — Illustrations for Practice — Punctuation, Grammatical and Rhetorical — General Rules for Rhetorical Punctuation — Various Requisites in good Delivery — Expression, Attitude, Gesture — Orators of Antiquity — Plutarch’s Anec- dotes of Demosthenes and Cicero — Suggestions in reference to Attitude and Gesture in Public Speaking — Mistakes to be avoided — Quintilian on Gesture — Mr. Smart’s Classification ot Gesture — Erasmus Darwin on the Exoression of the Emotions. N this Lecture I propose touching on several subjects, to all of which attention is necessary in order to speak or read correctly and effectively ; and the first of these to which I shall direct your notice in that of Emphasis. What is Emphasis in Elocution ? As I understand it, it consists in giving a certain amount of prominence, which may vary greatly in degree, to particular words, clauses, or sometimes, indeed, whole sentences, so as to make them stand out, as it were, in relief, or contradistinction to others, either implied or expressed. Emphasis, judiciously given, points out the precise meaning of a sentence, shows in what manner one idea is connected with or arises out of another, gives point to the several clauses of a sentence, and so conveys to the mind of the hearer, thoroughly and fully, the entire meaning or import of the whole. A long, involved, and complicated sentence may be made to appear perfectly intelligible and perspicuous by the discriminating power of Emphasis. But to do this rightly, it is requisite that the reader should be perfectly acquainted with the exact construction and full meaning of every sentence in the composition he is reading. The eye must be trained to grasp (if I may venture on such an expression) the full meaning of the passage at a glance, and thus the mind will constantly be in advance of the voice. Dr. Enfield, nearly a century ago, most truly remarked that without this habit is thoroughly acquired, it is impossible to give those inflections and modulations of the voice and that variety of Emphasis which nature requires : and it is for want of this previous study, more perhaps than from any other cause, that w^e so often hear persons read with an improper emphasis, or with no emphasis at all, as a modern writer (the Rev. W. Cazalet) openly advo- 252 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. cates as a correct mode of reading, but which must 'end in, and can only be (I quote Dr. Enfield’s own words), “stupid monotony.” — No doubt much study and pains are requisite in order to acquire in every way an elegant and effective delivery in reading and speaking, and it is only by close attention and constant practice that we can be able with a mere glance of the eye to read any piece with good emphasis and discretion. As I said at the close of my last Lecture, 7iouns and verbs are almost always emphatical words in a sentence, but, of course, the degree of emphasis to be given must depend on the character and nature of the sentence, and is a question of taste and judgment. Emphasis, acording to Sheridan’s definition, discharges in sentences the same kind of office that the stress or weight of the voice does in the syllables of words. As the latter is the link which ties syllables together and forms them into words, so emphasis unites words together and forms them into sentences or members of sentences. As stress or weight dignifies the syllable on which it is laid, and makes it more distinguished by the ear than the rest, so emphasis ennobles the word on which it is given and presents it in a stronger light to the understanding. It may be said in its several degrees to point out the various degrees of relation- ship which words, when they are arranged in the form of sentences, bear to each other, and the rank which they hold in the mind. Verse addresses itself to the ear only ; emphasis through the ear to the under- standing. The necessity of employing emphasis, and more especially of observing proper degrees of emphasis, is so great that the true mean ing of sentences cannot be conveyed without it : and, as we shall see, a sentence may have as many different meanings as there are words in it, by varying the place and the degrees of emphasis. Simple emphasis serves merely to point out the plain, logical meaning of a sentence, and addresses itself to the calm understanding; but when emphasis is accompanied by the inflections and modulation of emotion, then it is sometimes termed complex ; and now not merely the intellect but the passions and imagination are addressed. It is this latter use of emphasis that chiefly gives life and spirit to discourse, and enables it to produce its noblest effects and most important results. By this it is (to condense Sheridan’s remarks) that we have it in our power not only to make others conceive our ideas as we conceive them, but to make them also feel them as we feel them. By the use of simple emphasis, truths may be conveyed and the understanding enlightened, if the hearer will be at the pains of commanding his own attention. But by the judicious use of the complex emphasis, the affections, passions, and imagination are all aroused, and the attention of the hearer engaged by the delight which accompanies the very act of attending. In the former the mind is for the most part passive ; but in the latter its activity is aroused, and it is conscious of that activity without any labour of its own : and this is one of the chief reasons why dramatic representations, when performed with truth and fidelity to nature, have ever exercised in all ages and over all classes of mankind the most powerful influence, when, in wit- nessing them (to quote the words of Horace) — Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 253 “ Pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet.” It is on the same principle that the powers of oratory are reckoned amongst the noblest that belong to human nature, and productive of the highest delight that the mind can receive. But as the powers of oratory, whether displayed in the form of sermon, speech, or any other shape, cannot be exerted at all without the right use of simple emphasis, or the emotions of an audience excited, or their understandings enlightened by or interested in what is addressed to them, without the use of this complex emphasis, is it not to be greatly regretted that so little care comparatively is taken in regard to the proper employment of these varieties of emphasis in speaking and reading? This neglect too often mars the effect of the former, and still more frequently of the latter, and it is (to use Sheridan’s own words) the chief reason why public speaking is so unaffecting and public reading in general so disgusting. If the young were only properly instructed in the proper use of emphasis, com- plex as well as simple, and made not merely to understand, but feel, what they read, the yet unsophisticated ear and the flexible organs of voice and speech would be rendered capable of receiving, distinguishing, and uttering all the variety of tones in their just proportions of inflection and modulation. Every man who is interested in any subject on which he is speaking to a friend in private life, and clearly comprehends what he is saying, never fails to lay the right emphasis on the right word. When, there- fore, he is about to read, or repeat the words of others, or his own, in public, he cannot adopt a better principle by which to be guided, than that laid down by Sheridan, which is in substance as follows : — Let him only reflect on the place where he would lay the emphasis, supposing these words had proceeded from the immediate sentiments of his own mind in private discourse, and he will have an infallible rule for laying the simple emphasis right in all sentences the meaning of which he clearly understands. This rule is so obvious, so plain, and so easy to be observed, that it is astonishing to find so often and in so many places as we do, such a neglect or improper use of emphasis in reading and reciting. But the cause of this is easily explained. In teaching to read by the eye, masters instruct pupils, of course, in the use of such marks as are by type presented to the eye. Now, as in ordinary print- ing there are no visible signs but letters, stops, and the marks of interro- gation, exclamation, &c., and as the words are distinguished from each other only by a greater distance between them than between the letters of which such words are composed, and the different clauses of sentences by the marks of commas, semicolons, and colons, the eye has no assis- tance as regards inflection, modulation, poise, or emphasis ; and therefore it is in these that the chief errors are committed, either by wrongly giving them or scarcely giving them at all. It is true, whoever is told he ought always to read a sentence with just the same elements of elocution that should be employed in speaking it, need not have any visible marks, such as those I have used in this book for the purpose of aiding the pupil in his practice of the selections which I have given in illustration 254 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [LEC-n XV. ot the different elements of Elocution, provided only that he be master of the right principles on which these elements should be employed. But even this simple rule is so seldom inculcated, that there are few comparatively who do not display mistakes in one or other of these particulars, especially when they have to read or recite anything that they think demands more than ordinary dignity or solemnity in delivery. But with respect to emphasis, it is impossible to give it rightly unless a man thoroughly comprehends the meaning of what he is about to read ; and as this is somewhat difficult to be done at sight, even after long practice and experience on the part of the best readers, how much less are we to expect it from such as are only learners, even under the best instruction \ but least of all from those who are taught in such a method as does not make this a necessary part of their instruction in the art of reading aloud. May we not appeal to the experience of man- kind, whether in general anything else be taught when we are learning to read but the right pronunciation of words and the due observance of punctuation ; and does not many a person who has got only as far as this think himself qualified to read anything aloud at sight ? All this arises from a mistake into which men naturally enough fall who judge of language only in its wriiten state — in that “ Mummy-like embalm- ing” of ideas and emotions, which you may remember I told you in my opening Lecture written language was termed by Wilhelm von Hum- boldt. But the man who considers language in its original, its primary, and its noblest state, as addressed not to the eye, but to the ear, will find that the very life, the soul, the essence of speech consists in what is utterly unnoticed in writing, viz., inflection, modulation, poise, and emphasis : and as the man who attempts to pronounce words without observing the law of poise, does not really utter words but syllables, so the man who attempts to pronounce sentences without any emphasis really does not utter sentences, but a succession of words ; or if by courtesy such words may in a logical sense be said to form a sentence, it is a lifeless one, for all the elements that should give it vitality are wanting. So that in speech it may be truly said, words are the body ; rhetorical and grammatical punctuation will give it shape and form, and distinguish the several parts of that body ; but inflection, modulation, poise, and emphasis are the nerves, blood, life, and soul which put it in motion, and give it power to act, and influence the intellect and emotions of those to whom such sentences are addressed. If any one has fallen into this dull, lifeless mode of reading so much complained of, and is anxious to free himself from an old and bad habit and acquire a new and good one, I would advise him, if he has any composition to read or recite in public, to reflect in what manner and with what kind of inflection, modulation, and emphasis he would point out the meaning if he were to deliver those words to his auditors as proceeding from the immediate thoughts and sentiments of his own mind ; and keeping this rule steadily in view, he cannot fail of finding out the proper inflection and modulation of voice with which each clause should be read, and the proper words on which the emphasis in its various degrees should be laid. At first it may be well for him to I.ECT. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 255 mark the sentences with the signs used in this book to indicate the various elements of Elocution, so that whenever he reads he may be reminded of them by these visible marks ; otherwise he will be apt to fall into his usual dull, monotonous manner of reading; for it is rather difficult at first to get out of long-established bad habits, and constant self-watchfulness will for some time be required. Such a mode as this which I have indicated is, I apprehend, the best and surest way of eventually freeing ourselves from those faults which arise from the defective manner in which we are too often taught and practised in the art of reading aloud and reciting in early life. As regards the Physiology of Emphasis, it is the result of a more ])owerful action of that part of the mechanism of the larynx which gives the weight of the voice to the syllable that should receive it in words, and makes it properly heavy, as I explained in my preceding Lecture. To judge from the stiff, ungainly, rigid manner in which some speakers and readers keep their necks, one would almost be induced to imagine that they thought emphasis could be given by the mouth alone, and that the larynx had nothing to do with its production ; whereas it is essentially by an intenser action of the mechanism of the larynx on the syllable that is in thesis^ or heavy, that it is made more heavy, and so becomes the emphatic word ; and the wider the latitude of movement of the neck, the greater the momentum acquired, and consequently the more powerful the emphasis. We have but to watch an impassioned orator to see how the vigorous movements of the neck intensify the emphasis : but, if you desire to see an illustration of this in its fullest extent, the next time you take a Continental holiday, and happen to witness a quarrel between two or more Frenchmen, Italians, or Spaniards of the lower orders, where little restraint is put upon the expression of the passions, just observe the wide-ranging and powerful movements of the larynx, neck, arms, and body generally, as they abuse each other, and consequently the tremendous emphasis that falls upon the oaths, curses, and vile language that are shot, as it were, from their infuriated lips. But of course, when we, as a matter of art, in some highly emotional speech or recitation, desire to give powerful emphasis to powerful language, we must take especial care to remain masters of the emotion, and not to be carried away by it, or we shall soon become breathless and inarticulate, as we often find to be the case when men are under the influence of ungovernable passion ; and so the orator’s and actor’s art must be to allow proportionate pauses, during which they may thoroughly replenish the lungs, and never neglect the proper control of the breath in the act of expiration. In the words of Hamlet, we must, in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of our passion, acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. I have shown, I hope, already sufficiently in previous Lectures, how much opposite inflection and modulation bring out the meaning of antithetic words and clauses in a sentence. The judicious introduction of emphasis on such words or clauses will add greatly to the power of the antithesis. You will find in Pope’s “Essay on Man,” and also in 256 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. his beautiful “ Moral Essays,” many admirable passages for exercises on emphasis j and the whole Book of P^roverbs abounds in illustrations and examples for practice. In some instances the antithesis is double, and even treble, and this must be rendered apparent to the hearer by the reader giving not merely opposite inflection and modulation, but also due emphasis on each important word of the antithesis. We may take the following sentences as illustrations. Anger may glafice into the hearts of the wise ; but rests only in the bosom of fools A “An angry man, who suppresses his passion, thinks zvorse than he speaks : and an angry man that will chide^ speaks worse than he thinksP Emphasis also serves to express some particular meaning, not directly arising from the words, but depending upon the intention of the reader or some accidental circumstance. The following short sentence, — Do you intend to go to London this summer? — may have three different meanings, according to the different place of the emphasis : as — Do yon intend to go to London this summer ? Do you intend to go to London this summer? Do you intend to go to London this summer? Here the question, as first marked, inquires whether the perso7i spoken to will go to London this summer : as secondly marked, whether London is the place to which the person spoken to will go this summer : and, as thirdly marked, whether this swzimer is the time at which the person spoken to will go to London ? In order to acquire a habit of speaking with a just and forcible em- phasis, nothing more is necessary than previously to study the con- struction, meaning, and spirit of every sentence, and to adhere as nearly as possible to the manner in which we distinguish one word from another in conversation ; for in familiar discourse we scarcely ever fail to express ourselves emphatically, and seldom place the emphasis improperly. The most common faults respecting emphasis are laying so strong an emphasis on one word as to leave no power of giving a particular force to other words, which, though not equally, are in a certain degree emphatical ; and placing the greatest stress on conjunctive particles, and other words of secondary importance. These faults are strongly characterised in Churchill’s censure of Mossop the actor. With studied improprieties of speech, He soars beyond the hackney critic’s reach. To epithets allots emphatic state. Whilst principles, ungraced, like lacqueys wait: In ways first trodden by himself excels, And stands alone in indeclinables ; Conjunction, preposition, adverb, join To stamp new vigour on the nervous line: In monosyllables his thunders roll, He, she, it, and, we, ye, they, fright the soul. Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 257 \ It must be remembered, however, that there are other means by which words may be rendered emphatic or prominent, besides that special zueight or stress of the voice which is the general but limited sense in which the word emphasis is understood. I have already indicated how w-ords or clauses may be rendered full of significance and power by appropriate change of inflection and modulation. Emphatic prominence may also be effected by change of time, that is, either by a prolongation of the sound of the word or by an abbreviation of it, and this, in com- bination with a change of key, is often used in passages where irony, sarcasm, &c., are the characteristics. Mr. D. C. Bell, a well-known teacher of Elocution in Dublin, also says (in a work on the subject to which I have alluded before), that emphatic prominence may also be truly given to words or clauses (and I quite agree with him) : — By Aspiration — in which the voice becomes harsh, broken, or whispering. It is used to express fear, terror, disgust, horror, &c. By Monotone — by prolonging the voice on one key with limited variety of inflection. It is employed to give expression to dignified or sublime passages. By Pause — by separating the emphatic word from those parts of the sen- tence that precede and follow it. This is the most important of these various modes, as it may be employed in combination with all the others ; and as it affords great relief and power to the speaker, by enabling him to replenish his lungs with air before and after its use. The only rule that can be given for distinguishing the words that should receive em- phasis is, to place it on those that directly convey the meaning, or that denote the antithesis : the parts of a sentence charged with the greatest degree of sense, should be pronounced with the greatest prominence. The various kinds of emphasis mentioned above may be employed on any kind of composition, biit subject to the nature of the sentiment that is to be expressed. Emphasis, generally, may be divided into two kinds. Emphasis of Se?ise and Emphasis of^Feeling., or Simple and Complex, as termed by Sheridan. Emphasis of Sense determines the meaning, and, by a change of its position, varies the sense of the passage. Is your friend dead ? Do you ride to town to-day ? Could you wish me to think unkindly? Emphasis of Feeling is suggested and governed by emotion : it is not strictly necessary to the sense, but is, in the highest degree, expres- sive of sentiment. Could you be so cruel ? That sacred hour can 1 forget ? Then must the Jew be merciful. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. When the emphasis is accumulated, or heaped successively with increasing energy, progresdve force is given to the meaning. I have thus shown, from the gentleman’s own argument, that the doctrine advanced by him is not at present received ; that it never zvas received ; that it never can by any possibility be received ; and that, if admitted^ it must be by the total subversion of liberty itself You blocks ! you sto?ies ! you worse than senseless things ! R 258 KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. STACCATO FORCE. When several words in succession are accented and separated by brief emphatic pauses, a kind of general emphasis is formed, called Staccato. I 1 1 I I 1 t I How ! will you tell me you have done this ? 11 11 What men could do 1 1 11 . .1 Is done already : heaven and earth will witness, 1111 If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. I referred a short time ago to the opinions held on the subject of emphasis by the Rev. W. Cazalet, and maintained by him at some length in a work he has recently published “ on the voice ” which is in many respects very valuable, but here I cannot say I at all agree with him. In discussing this part of Elocution, Mr. Cazalet says, “ The method of delivery generally adopted is one based upon a system of emphasis. Now the effect of an emphasis on any one word is to weaken the force of the others. By making one word prominent, the full mean- ing is in a manner lost, for the whole sentence is important, not the mere word. Moreover, the emphasis must often be on parts of words, for it can only be given on one syllable and so weakens the power of the whole. The system of emphasis resolves itself into an effort to produce effect by accenting words which in reality have no more force than others in the same sentence. Hence it has become a monstrous abuse in delivery ; for the speaker or reader, feeling that each word has a force or power, gives at length an emphasis on so many that all expression is lost. The effect upon the hearer is perhaps not so severely felt in speaking as in reading. But the sensation produced by emphasis on emphasis, is perhaps more wearisome even than monotony. “Now the two principal causes of bad speaking and reading are monotony and emphasis. I have already shown how monotony may be relieved. I now proceed to consider how emphasis may be avoided, and for this purpose it will be necessary to give my rules for delivery. “ My system is based on a theory of pauses, as entirely opposed to and disposing of emphasis. A pause on a word gives a point to that word on delivery, and the sentence that follows is made prominent by the pause. A sentence therefore spoken or read with the full quality and continuous flow of the voice, and with the pause made in right places, will necessarily have all its force and meaning, and this without the least effort, which is the very essence of emphasis. An emphatic delivery is one continued straining after effect. My theory of pauses, on the contrary, necessarily divides each sentence into its component parts, and each pause in delivery, while giving point to its own phrase, necessarily brings that which follows into prominence. In the one case the individual aims at the effect ; in the other the system itself produces it. The emphasis is, as a consequence, artificial, the pause natural ; the inference is inevitable ; the emphasis must yield to the pause as an element in delivery.” Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 259 So far I have given you Mr. Cazalet’s own words. He then proceeds to argue that the verb is always the principal word in a sentence, and should be marked by a pause after it. Now I am far from undervaluing the importance of pauses in their proper places. I think their effect after any chief word, be it noun, verb, adjective or pronoun, most striking; and after any fine simile, noble metaphor, or other beautiful passage, a pause of some duration adds marvellously to the weight and power with which it falls on the ears of an audience, sinks into their hearts, and fixes itself in their memories. But I cannot admit that pauses are to be entirely sub- stituted for emphasis. Let any one try to read such a passage as that in which King Lear curses his unnatural daughters, giving no emphasis or stress to a single noun or verb in it, but merely pausing after every verb, and see what the effect would be ! The injudicious abuse of a good thing is no argument whatever against its use, and I confess Mr. Cazalet’s arguments seem to me to have weight only as against the abuse of emphasis by injudicious readers and speakers. Nature and art, I hold, are equally strong here, as supporters of the use of proper emphasis in right places as one of the chief means of expression. No one can listen to a first-rate reader, speaker, or actor, without noticing that there is a great variety in the degrees of emphasis which he gives to the various words that he pronounces, the importance of the idea conveyed by the word being the standard by which the degree of emphasis is regulated. For the purposes of practice, these degrees are usually divided into primary, secondary, and tertiary ; the primary, or most important, being signified by the largest capitals, the secondary by smaller capitals, and the last by italics. Let us take, as an illustra- tion of this, Hamlet’s famous Soliloquy, and his address to the Players: To BE — or NOT to be that is the question Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And — by opposing — end them? To DIE? — To sleep No more — and by a sleep to say we end The heartache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to ^Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished To die to sleep — To SLEEP ! Perchance to DREAM ! — Ay, theris the rub — For in that sleep of death what dreams may come. When we have shuffled off this mortal coil Must give us pause There’s the respect That makes calamity of so long a life. For who would bear the whips, and scor?is of tinte The oppressor’s wrofig the proud man’s contumely The pangs of despised love the law’s delay The msolence of office — and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes When he hwiself his qtdetus make 26 o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. With a bare bodkin ? Who would fardels bear, To grimt and sweat under a weary life But that the dread of something after death That undiscovered country — from whose bourn No traveller returns- puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of. Thus CONSCIENCE does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought — And enterprises of great pith and monie?it With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. Speak the speech — I pray you — as I pro7iounced it to you trip- pingly on the tongue But if you mouth it — as many of our players do — I had as lief the tow7i-crier spoke my lines Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus but use all ge7itly for in the very torrent tempest — and — as I may say whirlwind of your passion you must acquire and beget a te77ipera7ice that may give it smoothness Oh ! it offends me to the soul to hear a 7'ohustious — 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 7iothing but inexplicable dumb shows and 7ioise 1 would have such a fellow whipped for derdoing Termagant it out- Herods Herod Pray you avoid it Be not too ta77ie — neither but let your ow7t 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 77iodesty of nature for anything so over^ono. is from the purpose of playing whose end both at the first — and now %vas and is to hold — as ’twere — the mh'ror up to nature to show virtue — her own feature scorn — her own image and the very age. a7id body of the timehis fo7'77i and pressure Now this ^»z'., an imitation of that expression, which was imme- diately caused by the cruelty of the transaction, strongly tinctured with the passion of indignation. As with the first orator of Greece, so with the first orator of Rome, for Plutarch also tells us that Cicero, at first, was, like Demosthenes, very defective in delivery and action, and therefore diligently availed himself of the instructions of the two great actors, Roscius and ^sopus. We shall find the object of. this illustration shown more at length by the Roman orator. Calidius is represented by Cicero to have had great suavity of manners. No one knew better how to charm the attention of his audience, or more perfectly understood his subject. He had not a single expression which was either harsh, unnatural, or far-fetched.” His sentences were round and swelling, his action was graceful and agreeable, and his whole manner very engaging and very sensible. But the illustrious Roman insists that it is the business of the orator, not only to instruct and please, but also to prove and to inflame the passions ; Calidius, he observes, was perfectly master of the first and second, but entirely destitute of the third, which, he adds, is of much greater effi- cacy than the other two. “ He had no force, no exertion.” Cicero, however, candidly relates the following I perfectly remember, that when Calidius prosecuted Q. Gallius for an attempt to poison him, and pretended that he had the plainest proofs of it, and could produce many letters, witnesses, informations, and other evidences to put the truth of his charge beyond a doubt, interspersing many sensible and ingenious remarks on the nature of the crime ; I remember,” says Cicero, “ that when it came to my turn to reply to him, after urging every argument which the case itself suggested, I insisted upon it as a material circum- stance in favour of my client, that the prosecutor, while he charged him with a design against his life, and assured us that he had the most in- dubitable proofs of it then in his hands, related his story with as much ease, and as much calmness and indifference, as if nothing had hap- Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 279 pened.” “ Would it have been possible,” exclaimed Cicero (addressing himself to Calidius), “ that you should speak with this air of unconcern unless the charge was purely an invention of your own ? — and, above all, that you, whose eloquence has often vindicated the wrongs of other people with so much spirit, should speak so coolly of a crime which threatened your life ? Where was that expression of resentment which is so natural to the injured ? Where that ardour, that eagerness, which extorts the most pathetic language even from men of the dullest capa- cities? There was no visible disorder in your mind, there was no emotion in your looks and gesture. You were, therefore, so far from interesting our passions in your favour, that we could scarcely keep our eyes open, while you were relating the dangers you had so narrowly escaped.” In this manner did Cicero employ the natural defect, or what he believed to be a defect of nature (for he had before said that Calidius “had no force,, no exertion”), as an argument to invalidate his charge ; and thus have I endeavoured to show that orators, readers, and speakers, who do not deliver their sentiments with appropriate feeling and earnest- ness, are liable not only to have their arguments confuted, but also to have their characters branded with insincerity, vice, and falsehood. This conclusion is naturally suggested to the discreeter part of an audience, and the narrow-minded, unthinking, and ignorant do not feel their attention sufficiently excited to enable them to remember, even with common interest, that which was advanced for their most serious con- sideration. As students in oratory, we should be reminded, that we must never cease to avail ourselves of information — that we must observe, read, converse, and meditate. The speaker must not only acquire the justest conception of the things which he presumes to utter, but he must know how to communicate them in their proper order ; they must be clothed in the most agreeable, as well as the most forcible, language. The speaker must avoid redundancy of expression ; he must be neither too close nor too diffuse ; and, above all, he must perfect himself in that branch of oratory, which has been pronounced to form the first, second, and third part of the science — Elocution. This will enable him, at all times, to command attention ; its operation will be electric : it will strike from heart to heart ; and he must be a mere declaimer, who does not feel himself inspirited by the fostering meed of such approbation, — mute attention ; and returns his sentiments with a sympathetic feeling, energy, and pathos. In Lord Bacon’s great work on the “ Advancement of Learning,” you will also find some very interesting and remarkable narratives of the power of good delivery, and appropriate action and expression. But it is needless to multiply our illustrations under this head further, and I proceed therefore to give such general directions in reference to attitude, expression, and gesture, as I trust may be of some practical service to the novice in public speaking. At first, then, when called on to address a public assembly, the speaker should not, the moment he is on his legs, begin without any 28 o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. pause or preparation to pour forth his thoughts in words, because if he does this he will be very apt to get out of breath, lose self-possession, and become embarrassed. But I would suggest that on rising he should place himself in the best position alike for ease, grace, and freedom of action, the weight of the body being poised on the ball of one foot, the other being either slightly in advance or behind, and in all changes of position that foot should be moved first on which the weight of the body is not supported. Of course dramatic action permits a much more extended motion of the lower limbs than would be fitting elsewhere, but in the case of the preacher, barrister, lecturer, or public speaker, about one square yard is the limit within which he has to move, though in the case of the two last-named, there appears to be a growing custom to allow them a wider range for movement than was the case twenty years ago. The head should be held erect, but still in a perfectly free and natural position ; nothing stiff or rigid should be seen either in the position of the head or neck. The latter must not be in any degree bent down or lean forward too much, so as to cause the chin to protrude, for this though a common, is a very ungraceful position, especially if the speaker leans with his hands on the railings of the platforin (as some men often do) ; and such an awkward attitude not only greatly impairs the general expression of the countenance, but most materially injures the tone and power of the voice, as well as the general freedom of delivery. The chest should be well expanded, and the shoulders thrown back, but still carefully avoiding all appearance of stiffness or formality, and so the lungs will be able to be easily but yet thoroughly inflated, and perform all their important functions without any sort of restraint or hindrance. 'Fhen let the speaker or reader endeavour calmly to survey the audience he has to address, and quietly, noiselessly, but thoroughly inflate his lungs by a full inspiration performed in the manner I have so fully explained in the early portion of these lectures. The lungs being thus well sup- plied with air at the beginning can easily be kept so afterwards by com- paratively slight inspirations, taken steadily and systematically at all the proper pauses at the different clauses of the sentence, and the full stop which closes the sentence always allows the speaker or reader oppor- tunity and ample time for completely recruiting his lungs with air. All these suggestions, though they may seem minute and formal, will yet, when carried out properly, contribute greatly to give personal ease and self-possession to the novice in public speaking and reading. The countenance is the primary seat of all expression, and in the changes seen in the forehead, eyebrows, eyes, and lips, all the passions and emotions of the soul may be successively seen as in a mirror. For these to be wholly without expression is enough to destroy almost all the power of the most earnest, vigorous, and impassioned language, so far as the mere words are concerned, and there should always be appropriate harmony in the expression of face, gesture, and language. But it is here perhaps, more than in anything, that discretion must be our tutor, and 'teach us to shun violence of action, and exuberance of gesture and expression of countenance, on the one hand, and tame, cold, motionless demeanour, and stolid, changeless face on the other. Due regard must Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 281 always be had to the size of the place in which we are speaking, the character of our audience, the nature of our subject, and the language we have to utter ; and these being borne in mind, our chief instructors must be sound judgment and good taste in these and kindred matters. As you proceed with your speech, and warm with your progress in it, there will doubtless occur some word or clause which you desire to make emphatic, and you will almost instinctively use some action of the arm and hand to enforce it on the attention of your audience. Now avoid all narrow, awkward actions, proceeding only from the elbows. Remember that the arms should always perform their chief motions from the shoulders, the elbows by a gentle bend contributing to the prin- cipal action. Grace depends on freedom and ease of movement, and the curve which the hand usually describes in action, depends, as regards its latitude of motion, very much on the character of the language that is being uttered. If very earnest, passionate, or dignified in character, the action of the arm or hand should be free and waving in the ampli- tude of the curve it takes, but avoid, if possible, all mere violent angular action. Of course, in quieter passages the curves of the arm and hand are naturally very much less in extent. It is in elevated, declamatory, and poetical passages, that the language is best accompanied by extended motions ; in ordinary discourse, simple and easy transitions are alone appropriate. A chapter almost might be written on the use of the hands in ora- tory. The ancient rhetoricians placed the highest value on the service afforded by the hands in aiding the effect of public speaking, and seem to have used them in a much gi eater degree than we in our country at the present time are wont to do. Quinctilian, in writing on this part of our subject, says : — “ It is a difficult matter to say what number and variety of motions the hands have, without which all action would be imperfect and maimed, since these motions are almost as various as the words we speak. For the other parts of the body may be said to help a man when he speaks, but the hands, if I may so express myself, speak themselves. Do we not by the hands desire a thing ? Do we not by the hands promise, call, dismiss, threaten, act the suppliant, express our abhorrence or fear ? By the hands do we not interrogate, deny, show our grief, joy, doubt, confession, penitence, &c. ? Do not these same hands provoke, forbid, entreat, approve, admire, and express shame? Do they not in pointing out localities and persons supply the very place often of nouns, pronouns, and adverbs, insomuch that amid all the number and diversity of tongues upon the earth, this infinite use of the hands seems to remain the universal language common to all ? ” Although, as I have said before, the hands should in all graceful motion describe waving lines or curves, yet in energetic actions they very often are, and to a considerable extent may be straightened. It will be found that natural impulse almost always makes, and properly makes, the termination of the motion of the hand on the emphatic word or syllable, and this by a kind of stroke or beat, proceeding mainly from the wrist, which, varying in power and degree with the character of the 282 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. language employed, and the personal energy and temperament of the speaker, not only perfects and determines the action, but will be found to increase materially the due weight or percussion of the voice. It must be remembered that the right hand is essentially the hand of action, and that the left hand is almost always used in mere subordination to the right. The late well-known writer and teacher of elocution, Mr. B. H. Smart, was accustomed in his instruction to pupils to group all gesture under four heads, which he classified under the names of — I. Emphatic; II. Referential; III. Impassioned; IV. Imitative. Of these four groups what is meant by emphatic action is sufficiently explained by the term. “Referential Gesture is of frequent occurrence. By it the speaker calls attention to what is actually present, or to what is imagined for the moment to be present, or to the direction, real, or for the moment conceived, in which anything has happened, or may happen. When Lord Chatham speaks of the figure in the tapestry frowning on a degene- rate representative of his race, he refers to the place by correspondent action. When Canute is described ordering his chair to be placed on the shore, the narrator, by action, fixes attention to some particular spot, as if the sea were really present. When a picture of any kind is to be exhibited to the mental view, the speaker will convey a lively impres- sion in proportion as he himself conceives it clearly, and by action refers consistently to its different parts, as if the scene were before the eyes of his auditors. “ Of Impassioned Gesture it may be observed in this place, that, though all gesture of this kind ought to be the effect of natural impulse, yet the assumption of the outward signs of expression is one of the means of rousing in the speaker the real feeling. This consideration, and this alone, can justify any preceptive directions where nature seems to offer herself as sole instructor. “ Imitative Gesture often takes place with good effect in speaking, particularly in narration or description of a comic kind. To use it in serious description would generally be to burlesque the subject ; though even here, if sparingly and gracefully introduced, it is not always mis- placed. For instance, in Collins’ ‘Ode on the Passions,’ the narrator may use imitative action when he tells us that — “ ‘ Fear his hand its skill to try Amid the chords bewildered laid. And back recoiled : * and that “ ‘ Anger rushed In one rude clash he struck the lyre. And swept with hurried hands the strings : ’ and so, throughout the ode, wherever imitative action is possible without extravagance. “ Of gesture thus discriminated, it will not be difficult to determine the species which this or that department of speaking calls most into play. The pulpit, for instance, hardly admits of other than emphatic Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 283 gesture, seldom of refere7itial^ not very often of vnpassmied., never of h 7 iitative. The senate and the bar may more frequently admit of refe- rential and impassioned gesture, very seldom of imitative. It is only the stage that makes full use of gesture drawn from all the four sources that have been indicated. Yet the practice of the pupil^ whatever may be his destined profession, ought not to be confined only to one or two of these species of gesture. For, in order to bring forth the powers of intellect and sensibility, a wide range of subjects must be chosen ; and in all these, his business will be, to ‘ suit the action to the word, the word to the action.’” Some remarks in reference to the use of the arms and hands in speaking, fell from the lips of our present Prime Minister, the Tight Hon. W. E. Gladstone, last year at a literary and artistic dinner, which are well worth consideration. He was regarding voice and gesture from an aesthetic point of view, and in reference to the latter, said : — “ You know very well that, as far as Englishmen in general are concerned, when engaged in argument, even in invective and decla- mation, they make no use of their hands and arms. You would think they might as well be cut off, as being really superfluous appen- dages. I remember reading — and it is always very desirable to read books that foreigners write about us ; depend upon it, it is the way to know ourselves — a book written about forty years ago by an Italian gentleman named Count Pecchio, recounting his experiences in England ; and on visiting the chief people in London he says that he found their drawing-rooms not only well furnished, but overcrowded with all kinds of nick-nacks and bijouterie easily liable to fracture. Being of a philoso- phic turn, that gentleman began to connect in his mind causes and effects, and he said, ‘ I now see the reason why the English people never gesticulate. If they did, the whole of these beautiful objects — their china, their Venetian glass, all the interesting but fragile arti- cles with which their rooms are complete — would come to grief.’ I am not afraid that we should depart from our respective national qualities, and it would be a great misfortune that we should do so, but with the modern and innocent tendency to cosmopolitan fashions, it may be that the Englishman will begin to unglue a’little, and that the idea will gradually find its way into his mind that Nature gave him arms and hands, not merely for the purpose of digging the earth, or navigating the sea, but likewise for purposes in connection with the higher operations of the mind in giving effective and graceful expression to his thoughts and feelings.” I shall enter more fully in my next Lecture into the subject of the Expression of the Emotions by countenance and gesture, and examine their influence in the portrayal of the various passions and feelings of human nature in detail. It is a subject well deserving our attentive con- sideration, when it is remembered that intonation, inflection, modulation, and all the other elements that combined give true vocal expression fail, however perfect they may be, to give delivery its full effect, if the countenance, and indeed the whole body, do not sympathise and express in harmony all those passions and feelings which are manifested in the 284 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XV. tones of the voice. Nothing can be more at variance with nature, and destructive of all effect, than for an orator to maintain a rigid stillness and an unvarying countenance. Indeed, where there exists anything like imagination and warmth of natural feeling, it will be seen that the tendency to manifest emotion is so spontaneous, alike as regards the play of countenance and gesticulation, that the aid of any instruction will more likely be required to chasten and subdue than to stimulate the manifestation of the emotion by gesture and facial expression. In the order of nature, as w^e see in the case of uncivilised races, and in the children of all races, civilised as well as uncivilised, we shall, I think, invariably find that in the manifestation of any passion or emotion it is first indicated in the expression of the countenance, then by gestures, and, last of all, by articulate speech. In calmer feelings, and in the expression of the milder sentiments, I have noticed that in general gesture does not precede but accompanies language. Dr. Erasmus Darwin, in his “ Temple of Nature,” notices the manifestation of the emotions by external signs in the following verses : — “ When strong desires or soft sensations move The astonish’d intellect to rage or love. Associate tribes of fibrous motions rise. Flush the red cheek or light the laughing eyes. Whence ever-active imitation finds Th’ ideal trains that pass through kindred minds ; Her mimic acts associate thoughts excite. And the first language enters at the sight. Association’s mystic power combines Internal passion with external signs ; From these dumb gestures first th’ exchange began Of viewless thought in bird, and beast, and man : And still the stage by mimic art displays Historic pantomime in modern days ; And hence the enthusiast orator affords Force to the feebler eloquence of words.” LECTURE XVI. The Expression of the Emotions by the Human Countenance — Quinctilian’s remarks on the Head and Face generally — Diagrams of the Muscles of the Face from Sir Charles Bell’s work and Henle’s “ Anatomie des Menschen” — The Forehead — The Eyes — Remarks of Dr. Austin — Buffon’s description of the Eyes and their Power of Expression — Engel’s Views on this Subject — Delsarte’s opinions in regard to the Eyes — Letter from Mr. Darwin on the question — The Eyebrows and Eyelids as Adjuncts in Expression — Quinctilian’s Observations — The Nostrils — The Mouth and Lips — Quotation from Buffon and Dr. Austin — The Functions of the Mouth and Lips in the Expression of the Emotions. N this Lecture I propose entering into an examination at some length of those different features of the human countenance which express so vividly the various passions and emotions of human nature. The authorities I have consulted have been many, but I am chiefly indebted for the results I shall present you with this evening to Dr. Gilbert Austin’s “ Chironomia,” Sir Charles Bell’s “ Anatomy and Philosophy of Expression,” Moreau’s edition of “ Lavater on Physiognomy,” the last edition of the Abbe Thibout’s admirable work, entitled, “ Action Oratoire,” and Mr. Charles Darwin’s most deeply interesting book “On the Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals.” As regards the head and face generally, no better remarks can be offered than those made by Quinctilian, who says : “ As the head gives the crowning grace to the whole body, so does it principally contribute to the expression of grace in delivery. It should be held in an erect and natural position. For when hung down it expresses humility, when thrown backwards arrogance, when inclined to either side languor, and when stiff and rigid it exhibits a want of polish and ^refinement. Its movements should be suited to the character of the delivery, and be in harmony with the actions of the hands and the movements of the body. The eyes are in general directed to the quarter to which gesture points, except when we have occasion to condemn, to refuse, or to require any object to be removed; on which occasions we should at the same moment express aversion in the countenance and reject by the gesture, as in these lines, ‘Banish, ye gods, this monster from the earth.’ “ I hold myself not worthy of such honour.” 286 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI. Fig. 3. — Diagram from Henle. A Occipito frontalis, or frontal muscle. B Corrugator supercilii, or corrugator muscle. C Orbicularis palpebrarum, or orbicular muscles of the eyes. D Pyramidalis nasi, or pyramidal muscle of the nose. F Levator labii superioris aloeque nasi. F Levator labii proprius. G Zygomatic muscle. H Malaris muscle. I Little zygomatic muscle, K Triangularis oris, or depressor anguli oris. L Quadratus menti. M Risorius, part of the Platysma myoides. Lect. XVL] ON ELOCUTION. 287 The head alone is capable of many expressive movements ; for besides those inclinations of it which show assent or rejection, approval or disapproval, there are other well-known motions known to humanity which indicate modesty, doubt, admiration, or indignation. But to use a motion of the head alone, unaccompanied by any other gesture, is considered ungraceful in action.* Let us now direct our attention to the countenance generally. Plato says most truly that in the head and countenance may be seen the whole man. And this we feel instinctively to be true, and there are few countenances by which we are not more or less attracted or repelled, even at the first glance. It is in the human face that the passions and emotions of the soul may most vividly be read. The language that is written there, is one that is understood by all countries and all races of mankind, and speaks often with a power that equals even if it does not surpass, that of voice and speech. Let us take this subject analytically first, and consider the different parts of the countenance that are the chief seats of emotional expression. The excellent diagrams (see opposite page), showing the muscles of the face, are taken from Sir Charles Bell’s celebrated work and Henle’s “ Anatomie des Menschen ; ” and for the use of them here, I am indebted to the courtesy of Mr. Darwin. Nothing contributes more to the general nobility of the countenance and expression of intelligence than an ample and well-developed fore- head. The frontal muscle {occipito frontalis) with which it is provided is a powerful instrument of action in the wrinkling of the forehead ; but as far as I can judge never acts alone, but always in conjunction with the corrugator muscles of the eyebrows. Next in order I take the eyes and their powerful adjuncts in expression — the eyebrows and eyelids. The remarks of Dr. Gilbert Austin in the third chapter of his ‘ Chironomia,’ in reference to the power of the eyes in commanding the attention of an audience, are well worthy of being quoted here. “ As the principal object of every public speaker,” he says, “ must be to obtain the attention of his audience, so every cir cumstance which can contribute to this end, must be considered most important. In the external demeanour nothing will be found so effectually to attract attention and to detain it, as the direction of the eyes. It is well known that the eyes can influence persons at a distance ; and that they can select from a multitude a single individual and turn their looks on him, though many lie in the same direction. The whole person seems to be affected in some measure by this influence of another’s eyes ; but the eyes themselves feel it with the most lively sensibility. It is in the power of a public speaker to obtain the attention of any indi- vidual by turning his eyes upon him, though the matter of his discourse may not be particularly addressed or relating to that person. But if he direct his looks into the eyes of any one of his audience, he holds his attention irresistibly fixed. We seem to have the power, as it were, of touching each other by the sense of sight, and to be endued with some- thing of that fascination of the eye, which is attributed to other animals, * Quinct., lib. xi. c. 3. 288 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI. and which the serpent is particularly said to possess. Not only is every one conscious when he is looked upon himself, but he even perceives when others are looked upon. The line of the direction of the axis of the eye, however invisible or imaginary, seems in effect as if it could be seen, and that in every instance throughout a great assembly, crossing and radiating in a thousand directions from the centre of every orb of sight. However these circumstances may be accounted for, the public speaker will judiciously take care to avail himself of them in a proper manner. He will therefore turn his eyes upon the eyes of his audience, and in the more important and earnest passages will seem to look, as it were, into the very pupils of their eyes.* The foregoing passage is as applicable to the art of Public Reading as that of Public Speaking. For if a reader keeps his eyes fixed upon the page the whole time he is reading aloud, he loses one-half the effect he would otherwise produce, to say nothing of the waste of power caused by so much of the vocal wave of sound falling direct upon the page he is reading, and so being thrown back upon himself, instead of travelling on in a series of successive undulations and reaching properly the auditory nerves of his hearers. For one who has to read aloud, the art cannot too soon be acquired of training the eye to gather at a glance the words in each clause, and then successively pronouncing them with the head held easily erect and the eyes directed towards the reader’s audience. Another remark of Dr. Austin is also worthy of notice. “ If it be surprising,” he says, “that the direction of the axis of vision (as it may be called) of every eye is capable of being traced by any observer as accurately as if a radiant and visible line were drawn from each ; not less surprising is the power of judging by the expression of another’s eye when it is that it exercises no speculation, even though the axis be in the direction of a particular object. This singular expression may be termed bending the eye on vacancy ; in which case distinct vision is not intended, but the focus falls short of the objects in the line of the axis of the eye. Persons in deep thought often look in this manner with their eyes perfectly open, directed towards some objects and yet manifestly not seeing them ; but void of speculation, as those who walk in their sleep. Of this expression every beholder is sensible ; it gives the appearance of abstracted meditation and inward retirement. The short-sighted eye, however near to the description, is easily distinguished from the eye bent on vacancy. In the vacant eye the peculiar expression is observed; in the short-sighted eye the peculiar conformation.! No writer has described more eloquently and poetically the power of the human countenance to express emotions, and especially of the eyes, than the great French naturalist, Buffon. He says, in language as truth- ful as it is beautiful : — “ Lorsque Fame est tranquille, toutes les parties du visage sont dans un ^tat de repos ; leur proportion, leur union, leur ensemble, mar- quent encore assez la douce harmonie des pensees, et repondent au * Austin’s Chironomia, pp. 103-4. t Ibid., pp. 105-6. Lect. XV L] ON ELOCUTION. 289 calme de I’interieure; mais lorsque lame est agitee, la face humaine devient un tableau vivant, ou les passions sont rendues avec autant de delicatesse que d’energie, ou chaque mouvement de Tame est exprime par un trait, chaque action par un caractere, dont I’expression vive et prompte devance la volonte, nous decele et rend au dehors par des signes pathetiques les images de nos secretes agitations. Mais c’est surtout dans les yeux qu’elles se peignent et qu’on pent les reconnaitre ; I’oeil appartient a Tame plus qu’aucune autre organe ; il semble y toucher et participer a tous ses mouvements ; il en exprime les passions les plus vives et les emotions les plus tumultueuses, comme les mouvements les plus doux et les sentiments les plus delicats ; il les rend dans toute leur force, dans toute leur purete tels qu’ils viennent de naitre ; il les transmet par des traits rapides que portent dans un autre ame le feu, Taction, Timage de celle dont ils partent ; Toeil regoit et reflechit en meme temps la lumiere de la pensee et la chaleur du sentiment, c’est le sens de Tesprit et la langue de I’intelligence.” Dr. Austin, too, in his “ Chironomia,” justly remarks (pp. 106, T07) that, “ as much of the mind is discovered by the countenance, and par- ticularly through the windows of the eyes, so all men examine the countenance and look into the eyes of those from whom they have any expectations, or with whom they are to have any important intercourse or dealings. Nay, the very dom^estic animals learn thus to read the human countenance, and the dog is found to look for his surest and most intelligible instructions into his master’s eyes. To look fairly in the face, or rather into the eyes of those who are objects of respect, bespeaks, in youth especially, a candid and ingenuous mind ; as on the contrary an habitual cast-down look, as it is commonly called, and averted or unsteady eyes, are universally understood to indicate the opposite character. The reserve and dark consciousness of an unworthy heart do not willingly expose themselves to be penetrated by the beam of a searching eye. But this is altogether different from the occasional down- cast bashfulness of modesty, which as soon as it is encouraged to look up becomes enlightened with candour and intelligence. The remarks of an eminent writer of the eighteenth century, M. Engel, who published a learned and elaborate work on the subject, entitled “ Idees sur le geste,” in the form of a series of letters, says in his sixth letter : — “ L’ame parle le plus souvent, et de la maniere la plus facile et la plus claire par les parties dont les muscles sont les plus mobiles ; dent elle s’expliquera le plus souvent par les traits du visage et principalement des yeux; mais ce ne sera que rarement qu’elle emploiera les change- ments dans les attitudes caracterisques de tout le corps. La premiere cspece de ces expressions, savoir celles des yeux, s’opere avec tant de facilite et si spontane'ment en ne laissant, pour ainsi dire, aucune inter- valle entre le sentiment et son effet, que le sangfroid le plus reflechi et Tart le plus exerce' h masquer les pensees les plus secretes, n’en pou- vent pas arreter Texplosion, quoiqu’ils maitrisent tout le reste du corps. L’homme qui veut cacher les affections de son ame, doit surtout prendre T 2 go KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI, garde de ne pas se laisser fixer dans les yeux ; il ne doit pas moins veiller avec soin sur les muscles qui avoisinent la bouche, qui lors des certains mouvemens interieures se maitrisent tres difficilement. ‘ Si les hommes/ dit Leibnitz, ‘ voulaient examiner davantage avec un veritable esprit observateur les signes exterieures de leurs passions, le talent de se contrefaire deviendrait un art moins facile.’ ‘ Cependant Tame con- serve toujours quelque pouvoir sur les muscles ; mais elle n’en a aucun sur le sang,’ dit Descartes ; et par cette raison la rougeur ou la paleur subite dependent peu ou presque point de notre volonte'.” It is right, however, that I should mention that the late most eminent teacher of the art of Dramatic Elocution in Paris, Francois Delsarte, who died about five years ago, and whose pupil, Rachel, was perhaps the highest type of his school on the stage of France, as Macready was on the stage of England, always contended that the eyes themselves, apart from the other features, did not express the emotions, but only indicate the objects that excite the emotions. He says : “ Cover the lower part of the face with your hand, and impart to your look all the energy of which it is susceptible, and it will be impossible for the most sagacious observer to discover whether your look expresses anger or attention. On the other hand, uncover the lower part of the face, and if the nostrils are dilated, if the contracted lips are drawn up, there is no doubt that anger is written on the countenance. An observation which confirms the purely indicative part performed by the eye is, that among raving madmen, the lower part of the face is violently contracted, while the vague and uncertain look shows clearly that their fury has no object.” Now, the opinion of such an accomplished instructor, and one who could number among his pupils not only such artistes as Rachel and Macready, but the gifted Sontag, Madeleine Brohan, Barbot, Pasea, and others of eminence on the French stage; and among the orators of the French pulpit, such men as Pere Lacordaire, Pere Hyacinthe, and other celebrated preachers, is undoubtedly entitled to high respect. But I cannot think here that Delsarte is altogether right. Undoubtedly the eyelids, eyebrows, and mouth are most powerful adjuncts in the expres- sion of the emotions ; but I am certainly disposed, from the observations I have made, to come to the conclusion that the eyes themselves do grow bright or dull under the influence of certain emotions, that they do sparkle in mirth or melt in pity. On this point I was anxious to obtain the opinion of so distinguished a naturalist and so careful and accurate an observer as Mr. Darwin, and I accordingly wrote to him on the sub- ject, saying that I ventured to difler from Delsarte, and should like much to know whether Mr. Darwin’s views on this point were in accord- ance with mine or not. In compliance with my request, Mr. Darwin favoured me at once with an answer, which I give in his own words : — “Down, Beckenham, Kent. “ My Dear Sir, — I thank you for your very obliging letter, and for the information in regard to Delsarte’s views respecting the eyes. Although it is very easy to deceive one’s self on such a point, yet after reading over Lect. XVI.] ON ELOCUTION. 291 what I have said, I cannot think that we are in error. Surely the different appearance of the eyes in hectic fever, and during great exhaustion to which Dr. Piderit alludes, cannot be accounted for simply by the posi- tion of eyelids and eyebrows. Could you not observe the eyes of some one looking grave, and then smiling ? 1 will endeavour to do so. “ 1 remain, my dear Sir, “August 19th. “Yours faithfully, “C. J. Plumptre, Esq. “Charles Darwin.” I am very glad to find that the opinion I had formed is confirmed by so eminent an authority as Mr. Darwin.* Extended observation will, I think, further confirm the fact that the eyes themselves, apart from the adjuncts of any other features, do in themselves vary in brightness and expression under the influences of various emotions. In the recently published volume of the “ Life of the Eminent Tragedian, Charles Young,” by his son, the Rev. Julian Young, the author, speaking per- sonally of what he had noticed in the great actor, Edmund Kean, says : “When kindled by real passion off the stage, or by simulated passion on it, his eye gleamed with such scorching lustre as to make those who stood beneath its rays quail.” Sir Walter Scott, in the accounts he gives to Lockhart of his ir*terview with Burns, says: “There was a strong expression of sense and shrewd- ness in all his lineaments ; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. It was large and of a dark cast, which glowed (I say literally glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such another eye in a human head, although I have seen the most distinguished men of my time.f In Meister’s account of Diderot, contained in the 13th volume of Grimm’s “ Correspondance Litteraire,” I find it stated that “Diderot’s eyes were habitually kindly and sympathetic in expression ; but as he grew excited in conversation, they literally sparkled like fire.” Many more similar instances might be given in support of the opinion I hold, that the eyes in themselves have the power of growing bright or becoming dull under the influence of different emotions. Addison in “ The Spec- tator” for June 8, 171 1 (No. 86), says, “ I have seen an eye curse for half- an-hour together, and an eyebrow call a man a scoundrel.” And again, “The Spectator” for November 26, 1712 (No. 541), says, “But the fact is, the face is the epitome of the whole man, and the eyes are the epitome of the face.” No. 250 of the same journal for December 17, 1711, has also a very amusing paper on the eyes. J It appears to me, then, in regard to the expression of the various emotions, we are warranted in saying that the eyes sparkle, and, as it were, dance in mirth ; that they beam with a tender light in love and * Since this letter was written, now more than four years ago, Mr. Darwin has favoured me with another communication, staling that further observation has in nu way altered his opinion. t Life of Burns by Principal Shairp, pp. 50, 51. Z In Mr. R. Brudenell Carter’s excellent work “On Good and Bad Eyesight” (London, Macmillan), just published, will be found some very interesting remarks on the emotions that cause the eyes to grow bright or dull in appearance. 292 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI. affection ; that they blaze and seem to flash fire in rage ; that they melt in grief and pity ; that they are raised up in joy, hope, and supplication ; that they are cast down in gloom, despondency, and shame ; that in the expression of scorn and contempt, they appear to measure their object from head to foot; that they are widely opened, and stare more or less in amazement, wonder, and surprise ; that they are protruded in horror ; are restless in anxiety; are fixed and resolute in confidence, courage, and secrecy ; and seem cast on vacancy in abstract thought. The muscles which perform these varied functions are the orbicular muscles. (See diagrams.) The eyebrows and eyelids are most important adjuncts to the expres- siveness of the eyes. The eyebrows are elevated in amazement, joy, and hope ; they are depressed in grief, despair, and authority ; they are knitted ' together and produce the frown of anger and the other sterner passions, and seem to droop in weakness and dejection. The muscles which control these actions are the corrugator and orbicular muscles. (See diagrams.) What Quinctilian says on these points is as truthful as it is eloquent. He states, in the third chapter of his eleventh book, as follows : — “ In order to bring about all the various expressions of the eyes, the eyelids and the cheeks lend assistance by their auxiliary service, and the eye- brows also contribute greatly. For they give the form to the eyes in a certain degree, and altogether control the forehead. By them the forehead is contracted, raised, or lowered ; and accordingly as any cir- cumstance particularly affects the mind, the blood which is affected in its movement by the emotions, when it reaches the skin, delicate with modesty, is diffused in blushes ; and when it suddenly retires through fear, it entirely forsakes the forehead, which it leaves pale and cold. When the blood is temperate, the forehead appears like the serene sky. It is a fault in the eyebrows either to be altogether immovable or to move too much, or to be at variance by being unequally raised, or to be in any manner different from what we have mentioned. For anger is manifested by the contraction of the brows, sorrow by their depression, and cheerfulness by their relaxation.” The nostrils play comparatively a subordinate part in the expression of the emotions. When we are calm and composed they are relaxed, but become rigid in violent passion, in which condition also, the Abbe Dubroca says, he has observed that the alee, of the nostrils become swollen and are greatly distended. In disgust, scorn, and contempt the nostrils are drawn up, and (according to Quinctilian) in the mani- festation of pride and haughtiness. The muscles which act upon them are those of the pyratnidalis nasi and the levator labii superioris alcBque nasi. The cheeks contribute to expression chiefly by their becoming more or less flushed or pale under the influence of certain emotions. Last of all we come to the mouth and lip, which, as organs of expres- sion, are as important, even if not more important, than the eyes them- selves. The mouth indeed may well excite our deepest interest and attention, whether on account of the variety and precision of its action, or the language and tones which issue from it, or the general impression Lect. XVL] ON ELOCUTION. 293 which its shape and character make upon the beholder. The descrip- tion which BufFon gives of the mouth and lips may well be cited here, for it is as eloquent as it is true : — “ La bouche et les levres sont, apres les yeux, les parties du visage qui ont le plus de mouvement et d’expres- sion ; les passions influent sur ces mouvemens ; la bouche en marque les differens caracteres par les diflerentes formes qu’elle prend : I’organe de la voix anime encore cette partie et la rend plus vivante que tous les autres ; la couleur vermeille des levres, la blancheur de I’em-ail des dents, tranchent avec tant d’avantage sur les autres couleurs du visage qu’elles paraissent en faire le point de vue principal : on fixe en effet les yeux sur la bouche d’un homme qui parle, et on les y arrete plus longtemps que sur toutes les autres parties. Chaque mot, chaque articulation, chaque son produisent des mouvemens differents dans les levres. Quel- ques variees et quelques rapides que soient ces mouvemens, on pourrait les distinguer tous les uns des autres. On a vu des sourds en connaitre si parfaitement les differences et les nuances successives, qu’ils enten- daient ce qu’on disait en voyant comme on le disait.’^* Dr. Austin well remarks that it is more important to attend to the mouth than even to the eyes themselves. The eyes,” he says, “ can at all times assume the character suited to the expression of the moment. But the mouth being one of the softest features is soonest changed, and if it once loses its character of sweetness, it changes perhaps for ever. How few mouths which have been beautiful in youth (that season of happiness and smiles) preserve that character beyond youth ; whilst the eyes are often found to retain their lustre, or to flash occasionally with their early brightness even in advanced life. Every bad habit defaces the soft beauty of the mouth, and leaves indelible on it the traces of their injury. The stains of intemperance discolour it ; ill-nature draws it down ; envy deforms, and voluptuousness bloats it. The impressions of sorrow upon it are easily traced ; the injuries which it suffers from ill- health are manifest, and accidents may often deform its symmetry. It is sweetened by benevolence, chiselled by taste, rendered firm by wisdom, and composed by discretion ; and these traces, if habitually fixed, last unaltered in its soft forms throughout every varying stage of life. We should, therefore, labour in our own persons, and watch those of the young under our control, to form, if possible, this pliant and characteristic feature to that grace and beauty of form which is so apt to be marred by ill-temper and bad passions. But whatever may be the beauty and expression of the mouth which prepossesses in favour of an orator, a well-formed mouth is to be desired on another and most important account, which is for the advantage of more perfect articulation and grace in delivery. An ill-formed, uncouth, underhung or gaping mouth can never finish perfectly or correctly the articulation of words, nor deliver them with that winning grace which delights the ear as well as the eye of every hearer. The authors of the fantastic legends of the ‘Fairy Tales’ often allude to the magic gift of dropping at every word pearls and diamonds from the lips. A near approach to this imaginary gift is made in real life by those who acquire the most perfect * Buffon : “Hist. Nat. de I’Homme,” p. 527. 29J. KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION [Lect. XVI., eloquence ; who join to correct and finished enunciation the graces of a refined taste and the riches of a cultivated mind. On their lips sit persuasion and delight, and the words which fall from them may well be compared to the brightest gems.” * The muscles which act upon the lips are the levator lahii super ioris the levator labii proprius^ while the shape and opening and shutting of the mouth are produced by the actions of those muscles which are termed the zygomatic, the malaris, the little zygomatic, the depressor anguli oris, the qiiadratus menti and the risorius. The lips play a most prominent part in the manifestation of all the emotions. In joy and laughter they are drawn back at the corners and raised ; in sorrow and dejection they are depressed, and in some instances slightly projected ; in scorn and contempt they are curled upwards, in disgust downwards ; in decision and energy they are firmly compressed together ; in weakness and irre- solution they are relaxed ; in agony they are often tightly pressed together ; and in the case of vexation, it may frequently be noticed that the lower lip is bitten by the upper front teeth. I have also observed that in persons of quick and lively intellect the lips are highly muscular, elastic, and mobile in their actions ; while in persons of weak intellect the lips are loose and pendulous. In fear, in languor, in wonder, and in the act of eager listening, it will be observed in most cases that the lower jaw falls, and the mouth is con- sequently more or less open in extent. Mr. Darwin in his “ Expression of the Emotions ” notices all these facts, and the last eight chapters of his most deeply interesting work may be read by the student with the greatest profit and advantage. * Austin’s ‘‘ Chironomia,” pp. 123- 124. LECTURE XVII. Erasmus Darwin’s Theory of the Mode in which we become acquainted with the Emotions of others — Opinion of Edmund Burke — Views of the Tragedian, Betterton — Expression of the various Emotions :Joy, Pleasure, Cheerfulness, Love, Affection, Sympathy, Pity, Devotion, Veneration, Gravity, Seriousness, Perplexity, Attention, Surprise, Wonder, Amazement, Admiration, Appeal, Persuasion, Hope, Desire, Tranquillity, Acquiescence, Negation, Raillery, Irony, Anxiety, Dejection, Grief, Misery, Despair, Fear, Terror, Horror, Meditation, Abstraction, Reverie, Vexation, Ill-Temper, Determination, Shame — Views of Dr. Burgh, Sir C. Bell, and Mr. Darwin. N my last Lecture I brought before your notice analytically the various features of the human countenance, and the parts they severally play in the manifestation of the different emotions. This evening I propose regarding the subject synthetically, and examining how they act in combination in expressing the emotions. The elder Darwin justly remarks in one of his notes to his “Temple of Nature,” that “ there are two ways by which we become acquainted with the passions of others : first, by having observed the effects of them, as of fear or anger, on our own bodies, we know at sight when others are under the influence of these passions. So children, long before they can speak or understand the language of their parents, may be frightened by an angry countenance, or soothed by smiles and blandishments ; and secondly, when we assume the countenance, or put ourselves in the attitude that any passion naturally occasions, we soon, in some degree, acquire that passion ; hence, when those who are angry indulge them- selves by giving vent to their anger in loud oaths and violent actions of the arms and hands, they actually increase their anger by the very mode in which they express themselves ; and on the contrary, the counterfeited smile of pleasure in indifferent or disagreeable company soon brings with it a portion of the reality, as is well illustrated by Mr. Burke in his ‘ Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful,’ when he says that public speakers who use gesture not only seem in earnest, but for the time actually become so, even though at first they might have been indifferent ; and again Burke remarks : ‘ It appears to me very clearly from this, and from many other examples, that when the body is disposed by any means whatsoever to such emotions as it would acquire by ihe means of a 296 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVIT. certain passion, it will of itself excite something very like that passion in the mind.’ ” I think there can be no doubt of the truth of this, and it is confirmed by the authority of many eminent observers in past and present times. I have in my possession an old book (date 1710) containing the biography of the great tragedian of the latter part of the seventeenth century, Betterton, which contains also an elaborate treatise by him on the art of dramatic elocution, of the existence of which few seem to be aware. This treatise abounds in illustrations of the truth of the remarks of Edmund Burke and Dr. Darwin, and similar instances may also be found in the recently published biographies of the two eminent actors, Young and Macready. No doubt the restraints which high moral principles, or the culture of good society, lay upon the external and uncontrolled expression of our more violent passions, will do much to keep them within proper bounds ; and hence one of the advantages of education and civilisation. I propose, then, now to enter into an examination of the mode in which our various passions and emotions affect our physical organisation, and render themselves externally visible to others ; and in this investigation I will take first in order the more pleasurable and amiable feelings of our nature, and then those of a sterner and more painful character. Such an investigation is well worthy of our most attentive study, for, as Betterton observes in his “ Treatise,” every passion or emotion of the mind has its proper and peculiar countenance, tone of voice, and gesture ; and the whole body of man — all his looks, and every sound of his voice, like strings on an instrument, receive their sounds from the various impulses of his passions. Joy, especially when sudden and intense, expresses itself by clapping the hands, leaping, shouting, loud laughter, and other apparently purposeless actions. The sound of laughter is produced (as Mr. Darwin remarks) by a deep inspiration, followed by short, interrupted, spasmodic contractions of the chest, and especially of the diaphragm. Hence we hear of “ Laughter holding both his sides.” The lower jaw often quivers up and down, and during the action of laughing, the mouth is opened more or less widely, with the corners drawn much backwards as well as a little upwards, and the upper lip is somewhat raised. The drawing back of the corners is best seen in moderate laughter, and especially in a broad smile — the latter epithet showing how the mouth is widened.* The eyes are bright and sparkling, opened wide, save in the act of laughing, and are often, when the joy partakes of a religious character, cast upwards, and not unfrequently in extreme joy or rapture are suffused with tears. The voice is pitched in the highest keys, and abounds in extreme rising inflections — the light bounding poise and quick time. In what may be termed moderate joy, such as pleasure, high spirits, cheerfulness, we have the characteristics of expression as in joy, only more or less subdued in their manifestation. Indeed, Sir Charles Bell says, “ In all the exhilarating emotions, the eyebrows, eyelids, the nostrils, and the angles of the mouth are raised, and the whole face seems to expand.” Darwin’s “Expression of the Emotions,” p. 230. Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION 297 I come next to Love, affection, and what are usually called the softer or more tender passions. In all these, but varying in degree according to the intensity of the passion, we have the forehead smooth and open, the eyebrows slightly raised and arched ; the eyes beaming with a gentle lustre, and smiles playing upon the lips. The tendency to embrace, caress, and kiss the beloved object appears to be universal among the civilised races of mankind ; but Mr. Darwin says the last-named sign of affection is wholly unknown to the New Zealanders, the Tahitians, Papuans, Australians, the Somals of Africa, the natives of Tierra del Fuego, and the Esquimaux. In the expression of love, affection, &c., by the voice, we have a considerable range of rising inflections pitched in keys more or less high, and they are often modulated into a tender minor key. Sympathy is, in Mr. Darwin’s opinion, a separate or distinct emotion, and one that is especially apt to excite the lachrymal glands. The eye- brows are contracted usually, and in Pity, which is a mixed emotion, for with sympathy there is usually blended a certain amount of sorrow and regard, the eyes are bent upon the object that excites the feeling, are frequently suffused with tears, and all the features seem, as it were, drawn together. In the voice rising inflections prevail, and these are usually pitched in minor keys. Devotion may be considered a mixed feeling compounded of love, veneration, and often a certain amount of dread or fear. The eyes are in general cast upward ; the worshipper sinks upon his knees, the hands are raised commonly as high as the breast, are upturned, and the palms folded together. The direction of the eyes upwards is, in Mr. Darwin’s opinion, a movement that “ is probably a conventional one — the result of the common belief that Heaven, the source of Divine Power to which we pray, is seated above us.” He further goes on to observe that a humble, kneeling posture, with the hands upturned and palms joined, appears to us, from long habit, a gesture so appropriate to devotion that it might be thought to be innate ; but he states that he has not met with any evidence to this effect with the various extra-European races of mankind. He thinks that Mr. Hensleigh Wedgwood has appa- rently given the true explanation, though this implies that the attitude is one of slavish subjection : “ When the suppliant kneels and .holds up bis hands with the palms joined, he represents a captive who proves the completeness of his submission by offering up his hands to be bound by the victor. It is the pictorial representation of the Latin dare manus^ to signify submission.” Hence it is not probable, Mr. Darwin thinks, that either the uplifting of the eyes or the joining of the open hands under the influence of devotional feelings are innate, or truly expressive actions ; and this could hardly have been expected, for it is very doubt- ful whether feelings, such as we should now rank as devotional, affected the hearts of men, whilst they remained in past ages in an uncivilised condition.* In gravity, or serious thought, such as when the mind is meditating upon some important subject, the eyebrows are somewhat drawn down, the eyes often seem to be bent on vacancy, the mouth is * Darwin’s “ Expression of the Emotions,” p. 221. 29S KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. shut, and the lips firmly pressed together. Mr. Darwin remarks that “a man may be absorbed in the deepest thought, and his brow will remain smooth until he encounters some obstacle to his train of reasoning, or is interrupted by some disturbance, and then a frown passes like a shadow over his brow.” This is caused by the action of the corrugator muscles, which, by their contracting, lower the eyebrows and bring them closer together, thereby producing vertical furrows in the forehead, or in other words, a frown. Sir. C. Bell* expresses his opinion, that the corrugator is “ the most remarkable muscle of the human face. It knits the eye- brows with an energetic efibrt, which unaccountably, but irresistibly, conveys the idea of mind.” The posture of the body and limbs is usually composed, and without much motion ; but, as Mr. Darwin observes, in perplexed reflection we find that it is often accompanied by certain movements or gestures. At such times we commonly raise our hands to our foreheads, our mouths, or chins ; but we do not act thus, as far as he has seen, when we are quite lost in meditation, and no diffi- culty is encountered. We can understand why the forehead should be pressed or rubbed, as deep thought tries the brain, but why the hand should be raised to the mouth, or chin, or other parts of the face, is not so clear.f It is pretty nearly certain that men of all races frown when they are in any way perplexed in thought. When grave meditation expresses itself in language, the voice is usually pitched in low keys ; sub- dued inflections and the heavy poise prevail, and the delivery in point of time is slow. We are led next, by an almost imperceptible gradation, to consider attention, surprise, wonder, and amazement, for, as Mr. Darwin very justly remarks, attention, if sudden and close, often graduates into sur- prise ; and this into astonishment ; and this into stupefied amaze- ment. The latter frame of mind is closely akin to terror. Attention is shown by the eyebrows being slightly raised, and as this state in- creases into surprise, they are raised to a much greater extent, with the eyes widely opened. Mr. Darwin also says that the mouth is widely open. It is so usually, I admit, but I do not think invariably. I have noticed it always with the lower classes, but I do not think it is so com- monly seen among the more highly-cultured classes of society, or in those who have been trained to carry' on respiration properly, by the nostrils. But the eyes are more or less widely open and the eye- brows elevated in all cases where surprise and wonder are really felt. Mr. Darwin says a person may often be seen to pretend surprise by merely raising his eyebrows. All authorities seem to agree that the most common gesture of surprise and wonder is to raise the opened hands either to the level of the face, or, in more extreme cases, high above the head. The utterances of surprise, wonder, and amazement are almost always delivered in rising inflections of considerable extent, pitched in high keys ; unless awe is mingled with wonder when the rising inflections are subdued, and keys more or less low prevail. Admi- ration is a mixed feeling usually consisting of some degree of wonder, which produces also a sense of pleasure, with approval or esteem. * Sir C. Bell’s “Anatomy of Expression,” pp. 137-9" t Darwin, p. 230. I,ECT. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 299 When great admiration is excited, the eyebrows are raised, the eyes widely open, bright, and sparkling, the lips smiling, and the hands not very unfrequently raised up with the palms expanded. Its expression by the voice is always in extreme rising inflections, pitched in high keys. Appeal or persuasion usually has the forehead smooth and unruffled, the eyes opened wide, with an eager, discerning look, the lips inclined to a smile, and the voice takes a considerable range in rising inflec- tions pitched in moderately high keys. In the manifestation of hope, we find in general, more or less, accord- ing to degree, of the following characteristics : — The whole countenance has a bright expanded look, the eyebrows are arched, the eyes sparkling, and the lips inclined to a smile. In its expression by language we find the voice taking a considerable range in the use of rising inflections, pitched in keys more or less high, and the delivery is almost always quick in point of time. “ Desire,^’ says Dr. Burgh, ‘‘ differs from hope, as regards expression, chiefly in this particular, that there is more appearance of doubt and anxiety in the former than in the latter ; for it is one thing to desire what is agreeable, and another to have a prospect of its being obtained.” In tranquillity, the countenance is calm, open, and composed, the forehead smooth, the eyebrows slightly arched, and the eyes mild and placid in expression. The mouth is gently closed, and there is a general repose of the body and limbs. The language that is uttered in this frame of mind is expressed in moderate ranges of inflection, and in a voice that is almost always limited to the middle keys and moderate time. Before passing on to the consideration of the sterner and more pain- ful passions and emotions, I just say a word in regard to the external signs which either act as substitutes for or accompany expressions of acquiescence or negation. The nod of the head to signify acquies- cence or approval, and the shake of the head to signify refusal, negation, or disapproval, seem not only to be expressive signs of our feelings, but to be almost general throughout all the races of mankind, civilised and uncivilised, though there are exceptions of which Mr. Darwin gives some curious instances. These two signs would seem, however, to be instinctive or innate among the Anglo-Saxon race and their descendants, for in the well-known case of Laura Bridgman, who was born blind and deaf, it is said that she constantly accompanied her yes with the common affirmative nod, and her 7zo with our negative shake of the head.* Another sign of negation, though one more frequently seen abroad than at home, is to raise the finger or whole hand and shake it from side to side. Raillery and irony may be said to range in their degrees from playful innocent badinage to a spirit of bitter mockery and contempt. In the former, the countenance has much of the general aspect of cheerfulness, the inflections abound in delicate rising circumflexes, pitched in mode- rately high keys, combined with the light poise of the voice. When, * “ On the Vocal Sounds of Laura Bridgman,” Smithsonian Contributions, 1851, vol. ii p. II. 300 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. however, the feeling becomes more or less mingled with contempt and passes into irony and satire, the eye glances laterally at the object which excites the emotion, the mouth has what is called a satirical smile, and the circumflex inflections become much more prolonged in range and varied in key. Anxiety, dejection, and grief may pass by almost insensible grada- tions into each other, and partake correspondingly of the same general characteristics. There is a relaxation of the whole tone of the system. The eyebrows assume a peculiar, oblique shape from the outer corners of the eyes upwards, while at the same time, instead of a smooth, they present a roughened appearance, in consequence of the hairs being made to project. Mr. Darwin says that the eyebrows assume this position, owing to the contraction of certain muscles (namely, the orbiculars, corrugators, and pyramidals of the nose, which together tend to lower and contract the eyebrows) being partially checked by the more ]DOwerful action of the central fascice. of the frontal muscle. These latter fasciae by their contraction raise the inner ends alone of the eye- brows, and as the corrugators at the same time show the eyebrows together, their inner ends become puckered into a fold or lump. This fold is a highly characteristic point in the appearance of the eyebrows when rendered oblique. Dr. J. Crichton Browne has also often noticed in melancholic patients, who keep their eyebrows persistently oblique, a peculiar arching of the upper eyelid. This peculiar arching of the eye- lids depends, Mr. Darwin believes, on the inner end of the eyebrows being raised, for when the whole eyebrow is elevated and arched, the upper eyelid follows in a slight degree the same movement. But the most conspicuous result of the opposed contraction of the above-named muscles, is exhibited by the peculiar furrows formed on the forehead. These muscles, when thus in conjoint, yet opposed action, may be called, for the sake of brevity, the grief-muscles. When a person elevates his eyebrows by the contraction of the whole frontal muscle, transverse wrinkles extend across the whole breadth of the forehead ; but in the present case, the middle fascice. alone are contracted, con- sequently transverse furrows are formed across the middle part alone of the forehead. The skin over the exterior parts of both eyebrows is at the same time drawn downwards and smoothed by the contraction of the outer portion of the orbicular muscles. The eyebrows are likewise brought together through the simultaneous contraction of the corru- gators ; and this latter action generates vertical furrows, separating the exterior and lowered parts of the skin of the forehead from the central and raised part. The union of these vertical furrows with the central and transverse furrows, produces a mark which has been compared to a horse-shoe ; but the furrows more strictly form three sides of a quad- rangle. They are often conspicuous on the forehead of adult or nearly adult persons when their eyebrows are made oblique ; but with young children, owing to their skins not easily wrinkling, they are rarely seen, or mere traces of them only can be detected. Mr. Darwin further states that few persons, without some practice, can voluntarily act on their grief muscles, but after considerable trials a certain number sue- Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 301 ceed, while others never can. The degree of obliquity in the eyebrows, whether assumed, voluntary, or quite unconsciously, differs much in different persons. With some who apparently have strong pyramidal muscles, the contraction of the central fascicB of the frontal muscle, although it may be energetic, as shown by the quadrangular furrows on the forehead, does not raise the inner ends of the eyebrows, but only prevents them being so lowered as they otherwise would have been. Mr. Darwin adds that, as far as he has been able to observe, the grief muscles are brought into action much more frequently by women and children than by men. They are rarely acted on, at least with grown-up persons, from mere bodily pain, but almost exclusively from mental distress. The power to bring the grief muscles freely into play appears to be hereditary, like almost every other human faculty. A lady belong- ing to a family famous for having produced an extraordinary number of great actors and actresses, and who can herself give this expression with singular precision, told Dr. Crichton Browne that all her family had possessed the power in a remarkable degree.* These muscles may be observed strikingly in action in all great tragedians, and their full development is specially noticeable in the portraits of Mrs. Siddons and all the Kemble family representing their impersonations of most of their tragic characters. Another very marked characteristic in dejection, grief, and all melan- choly emotions, is the drawing down of the corners of the mouth, which is effected by those muscles called i\\Q de^ressores anguli 07 'is. (See dia- gram.) When the lips are closed and this muscle is called into action, the line of the junction of the two lips forms a curved line with the con- cavity downwards, and the lips themselves are generally somewhat pro- truded, especially the lower one.f These expressions of grief, dejec- tion, and low spirits generally, appear to be universal among all races of mankind. Violent and sudden grief is seen frequently to manifest itself by beat- ing the head with the hands, grovelling on the ground, stamping the feet, lifting the eyes from time to time to heaven, violent weeping and scream- ing, hurrying to and fro, running about distracted, and fainting away. We read, too, in the Old Testament and other ancient records, of rend- ing the garments, tearing the hair, beard, and even flesh as signs of violent grief, distress, and lamentations, and they prevail to the present day am.ong Oriental nations and uncivilised races. When grief and distress And utterance in words, extreme rising inflec- tions prevail, pitched in keys more or less high in proportion to the intensity of the emotions ; but mere melancholy, or dejection, usually expresses itself in subdued inflections, low keys, and the delivery is slow in point of time. The other physical signs of dejection are, that the circulation of the blood being slow, the face is pale, the eyelids droop, the muscles become flaccid, and the head hangs down on the chest. Respiration, too, is slow and feeble, and it is often interrupted by deep * Darwin’s “Expressions of the Emotions,” chap. vii. t Duchenne: “ Mecanisme de la Physionomie Plumaine,” vol, viii. p. 34; Darwin, P- 193 - 302 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI T. sighs. It is said by Dr. Burgh that the culmination of all misery, despair, such as is sometimes seen in criminals condemned to death, or in those insane patients who believe themselves doomed to perdition, is shown in the eyebrows being strongly contracted and bent down, the forehead furrowed with deep lines, the eyes frequently roll frightfully, the mouth is strongly curved downwards, the lips are often bitten, and the nostrils widely distended. Tears do not often flow, but the eyes glare, and the white part surrounding the eyeball is red and inflamed like those of an animal in a rabid condition. The head sinks down upon the breast, the arms are bent at the elbows, the hands clenched tightly, and the whole body strained and often violently agitated. The skin is livid, and all the veins and muscles swollen. Groans, expressive of inward torture, are more frequently uttered than words. As this state of mind so often leads to madness and suicide, it can hardly, in Dr. Burgh’s opinion, be ever acted by those who have to represent it dramatically. Tear is of all emotions the most depressing, Mr. Darwin states, and it soon induces utter helpless prostration, as if in consequence of, or in association with, the most violent and prolonged efforts to escape from the danger, though no such attempts have been actually made, neverthe- less even extreme fear often acts at first as a powerful stimulant. A man or an animal, driven through terror to desperation, is endowed with wonderful strength, and is notoriously dangerous in the highest degree. What Mr. Darwin says in reference to fear and terror and their effects upon man is so interesting, and so strictly true to nature, that I am sure the whole passage is well worthy of being given in exienso. “ The word ‘ fear ’ seems to be derived from what is sudden and dangerous, and that of ‘ terror ’ from the trembling of the vocal organs and body. I use the word ‘ terror ’ for extreme fear ; but some writers think it ought to be confined to cases in which the imagination is more particularly concerned. Fear is often preceded by astonishment, and is so far akin to it, that both lead to the senses of sight and hearing being instantly aroused. In both cases the eyes and mouth are widely opened, and the eyebrows raised. The frightened man at first stands like a statue, motionless and breathless, or crouches down, as if instinc- tively, to escape observation. “ The heart beats quickly and violently, so that it palpitates or knocks against the ribs ; but it is very doubtful whether it then works more efficiently than usual, so as to send a greater supply of blood to all parts of the body ; for the skin instantly becomes pale, as during incipient faintness. This- paleness of the surface, however, is probably in large part, or exclusively, due to the vaso-motor being affected in such a manner as to cause the contraction of the small arteries of the skin. That the skin is affected considerably under the sense of great fear, we see in the marvellous and inexplicable manner in which perspiration immediately exudes from it. This exudation is the more remarkable, as the surface is then cold, and hence the term, a cold sweat ; whereas, the sudorific glands are properly excited into action when the surface is heated. The hairs also on the skin stand erect, and the superficial Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 303 muscles shiver. In connection with the disturbed action of the heart, the breathing is hurried. The salivary glands act imperfectly, the mouth becomes dry, and is often opened and shut. I have also noticed that under slight fear there is a strong tendency to yawn. One of the best-marked symptoms is the trembling of all the muscles of the body, and this is often first seen in the lips. From this cause, and from the dryness of the mouth, the voice often becomes husky or indistinct, or may altogether fail. ‘ Obstupui, steteruntque comae, et vox faucibus haesit.’ Of vague fear there is a well-known and grand description in Job. ‘In thoughts from the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth upon 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 fiesh stood up. It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof : an image was before my 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?’ (Job i. 4-13). “ As fear increases into an agony of terror, we behold, as under all violent emotions, diversified results. The heart beats wildly, or may fail to act and faintness ensue ; there is a deathlike pallor ; the wings of the nostrils are widely dilated ; ‘ there is a gasping and convulsive motion of the lips, a tremor on the hollow cheek, a gulping and catching of the throat ; ’ * the uncovered and protruding eyeballs are fixed on the object of terror, or they may roll restlessly from side to side, hue iliiic volvens oculos totumqiie perer 7 'at. The pupils are said to be enor- mously dilated. All the muscles of the body may become rigid, or may be thrown into convulsive movements. The hands are alternately clenched and opened, often with a twitching movement. The arms may be protruded, as if to avert some dreadful danger, or may be throwm wildly over the head. ... As fear rises to an extreme pitch, the dreadful scream of terror is heard. Great beads of sweat stand on the skin. All the muscles of the body are relaxed. Utter prostration soon follows, and the mental powers fail.”t Dr. Burgh, writing a hundred years previously, enumerates many of the signs of fear and terror which are mentioned by Mr. Darwin. It remains only to state that when these emotions find vent in language, the voice is weak and trembling, and the sentences often broken and disjointed. Horror may be said, I think, to be the culmination of fear and terror. Horror, says Sir C. Bell, is full of energy ; the body is on the utmost tension, not unnerved as it is in mere fear. In the expres- sion of horror by the countenance, the forehead is deeply furrowed by the strong tension of the muscles which draw the eyebrows from the outer ends upwards ; the eyes themselves are wildly protruded, and the mouth is opened. A cold perspiration bedews the body, convulsive shudders agitate the frame, and there is often, in extreme cases, an involuntary bristling up of the hairs of the head. Shakespeare has well described these indications of horror, when he makes the ghost in Hamlet exclaim : — * Sir C. Bell, “ Anatomy of Expression,” pp. 88, 164-169. f Darwin ; “Expression of the Emotions,” pp. 289-292. 304 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVIL “ I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres. Thy knotted and combined locks to part. And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.” In horror, as, in somewhat less degrees, in fear and terror, there is also a strong contraction of that muscle which is spread over the sides of the neck, and extends downwards a little way beneath the collar-bones, and upwards to the lower part of the cheeks ; and a portion termed the risorius may be seen in the diagram (2, letter M). This great muscle is called the platysi?ia myoides, and when it contracts, it draws the corners of the mouth and the lower parts of the cheeks downwards and back- wards. The result of this action is to produce on the sides of the neck, in young persons, prominent, longitudinal ridges, and in old, emaciated people, fine transverse wrinkles. Duchenne emphatically calls this great muscle the muscle of f'ighi.^ The gestures of horror vary in different individuals. Sometimes, according to Dr. Burgh, the arms have the elbows tightly pressed against the sides, the open hands are lifted up to the height of the breast, so that the palms face the dreadful object that excite the horror, as shields opposed against it. One foot is often seen to be drawn back behind the other, so that the body seems to be shrink- ing from the object of horror. The heart beats violently, and respira- tion is quick and short. Mr. Darwin, too, remarks that, “judging from pictures, the whole body is often turned away or shrinks, or the arms are violently protruded, as if to push away some dreadful object. The most frequent gesture, as far as can be inferred from the acting of persons who endeavour to express a vividly imagined scene of horror, is the raising of both shoulders, with the bent arms pressed closely against the sides or chest. These movements are nearly the same with those commonly made when we feel very cold ; and they are generally accompanied by a shudder, as well as by a deep expiration or inspira- tion, according as the chest happens at the time to be expanded or contracted. The sounds thus made are expressed by interjections iike^z//^’ or ‘ugh.’ It is not, however, obvious why, when we feel cold, or express a sense of horror, we press our bent arms against our bodies, raise our shoulders and shudder.” t In regard to meditation, abstraction, reverie, &c., our remarks need not be at any great length. In this condition, the head may often be observed to droop forward in consequence of the general relaxation of the muscles, and the eyes have a peculiarly vacant expression, and are often, moreover, slightly divergent ; and when meditation passes into perplexed reflection, as when doubts and difficulties arise in the mind, the change is frequently shown at once by the corrugator muscles con- tracting and consequently lowering the eyebrows and bringing them close together, thereby causing vertical furrows on the forehead, or * Duchenne : “ Mecanisme de la Physionomie Humaine,” Album. Legende XI. t Darwin’s “ Expression of the Emotions,” p. 307. Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 305 in a word, a frown ; and also by peculiar actions, such as raising the hand to the forehead, or rubbing it, or by raising the hand to the mouth, cheek, or chin. Plautus, in one of his plays (“ Miles Gloriosus,” act ii. sc. 2), notices this as a sign of perplexed meditation, when he says, ^‘Now look, he has pillowed his chin upon his hand.'’ We can understand, Mr. Darwin says, why the forehead should be pressed or rubbed when deep thought tries the brain, but why the hand should be raised to the mouth or face is far from clear. When this state of mind finds utterance in language, the voice is in general characterised by low keys, subdued inflections, heavy poise, and slow time. Vexation and ilbtemper may sometimes arise out of perplexed meditation, and then, in addition to the frown, we find the corners of the mouth drawn downwards. If the frown is intensified by the strong contraction of the pyramidal muscles of the nose, thereby causing deeply marked lines across the base of the nose, an expression of obstinate, sullen moroseness is induced. A protrusion more or less of the lips gives what is termed an appearance of 'sulkiness to the countenance. Nothing gives so much the expression of determination and a strong will as a firmly closed mouth. I have never yet met with man or woman, of energetic character, who failed to show this external indi- cation. The habitually open mouth is, I believe, one of the surest signs of a weak and vacillating disposition. I have also noticed it as one of the frequent characteristics of persons who stammer or stutter. Mr. Darwin accounts, I think, most truly and reasonably for the firmly closed mouth being the sign of the firm and resolute character, when he says : “ A prolonged effort of any kind, whether of mind or body, implies previous determination ; and if it can be shown that the mouth is generally closed with firmness before and during a great and con- tinued exertion of the muscular system, then, through the principle of association, the mouth would almost certainly be closed as soon as any determined resolution was taken. Now several observers have noticed that a man, in commencing any violent muscular effort, invariably first distends his lungs with air, and then compresses it by the strong contraction of the muscles of the chest, and to effect this, the mouth must be firmly closed. . . . Dr. Piderit accounts for the firm closure of the mouth during strong muscular exertion on the principle that the influence of the will spreads to other muscles besides those necessarily brought into action in making any particular exertion ; and it is natural that the muscles of respiration and of the mouth, from being so habitually used, should be especially liable to be thus acted on.” * It appears to me that there is probably some truth in this view, for we are apt to press the teeth hard together during violent exertion, and this is not requisite to prevent expiration, whilst the muscles of the chest are strongly contracted. Lastly, when a man has to perform some delicate and difficult opera- tion, not requiring the exertion of any strength, he nevertheless generally closes his mouth, and ceases for a time to breathe ; but he * “Mimik und Physionomik,'’ s. 79. U 3o6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. acts thus that the movements of his chest may not disturb those of his arms. ... To perform an action, however trifling, if difficult, implies some amount of previous determination. There appears nothing improbable in all the above assigned causes having come into play in different degrees, either conjointly or separately, on various occasions. The result would be a well-established habit, now, perhaps, inherited, of firmly closing the mouth at the commence- ment and during any violent and prolonged exertion, or any delicate operation. Through the principle of association there would also be a strong tendency towards this same habit as soon as the mind had resolved on any particular action or line of conduct, even before there was any bodily exertion, or if none were requisite. The habitual and firm closure of the mouth would thus come to show decision of char- acter, and decision readily passes into obstinacy.* When determination expresses itself in language, the voice is characterised by emphatic falling inflections, generally pitched in low keys. Shame is peculiarly characterised by blushing, which seems to be specially a human manifestation of emotion. It is owing to the relaxa- tion of the muscular coats of the small arteries. When this takes place, the capillaries become suffused with blood ; but this results from the proper vaso-motor centres being affected by an emotion of the mind. All races of mankind exhibit the phenomenon of blushing, though of course the darker the race the less is it perceptible. Mr. Darwin remarks that, under a keen sense of shame, there is a strong desire for concealment. We turn away the whole body, more especially the face, which we endeavour in some manner to hide. An ashamed person can hardly endure to meet the gaze of those present, so that he almost invariably casts down his eyes or looks askant. As there generally exists at the same time a strong wish to avoid the appearance of shame, a vain attempt is made to look direct at the person who causes this feeling ; and the antagonism between these opposite ten- dencies leads to various restless movements in the eyes. An intense blush is sometimes also accompanied by a slight effusion of tears, and this, Mr. Darwin says, he presumes is due to the lachrymal glands partaking of the increased supply of blood, which he knows rushes into the capillaries of the adjoining parts, including the retina. He further remarks that many writers, ancient and modern, have noticed the foregoing movements. Ezra cries out (ix. 6), “ O my God ! I am ashamed, and blush to lift my head to Thee, my God ! ” In Isaiah (i. 6) we read, “I hid not my face from shame.” Seneca remarks in his eleventh epistle that the Roman actors hang down their heads, fix their eyes on the ground, and keep them lowered, but are unable to blush in acting shame. According to Macrobius, who lived in the fifth century (Saturnalia, B. vii. c. xi.), “ Natural philosophers assert that nature, being moved by shame, spreads the blood before herself, as a veil, as we see awy one blushing often * Darwin’s “ Expression of the Emotions,” pp. 236-238. Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 307 puts his hands before his face.” Shakespeare, in Titus Andronicus (act ii. sc. 5), makes Marcus say to his niece, “Ah ! now thou turn’st away thy face for shame.” * Shame shyness, and extreme modesty, all in different degrees manifest themselves by blushing. When these feelings are shown in language, the voice is in general weak and faltering. O * Darwin’s “Expression of the Emotions,” pp. 322, 323. LECTURE XVIII. The Subject of the Expression of the Emotions continued — Guilt — Remorse — Craft — Slyness — Pride — Courage — Helplessness — Obstinacy — Resignation — Indignation — Anger — Hatred — Rage — Jealousy — Contempt — Disdain — Scorn — Disgust — Con- clusion of the Analysis of the Human Emotions. UILT in many respects presents the same external signs as shame. There is the same tendency to blushing, the same restless, shifting movements of the eyes, which, however, exhibit, it is said, a special reluctance to look upon the per- son wronged. Many of the marks which characterise fear are also to be noticed in guilt in many instances. Mr. Darwin mentions in the case of one of his own children it was shown at a very early age by an unnatural brightness in the eyes, and by an odd, affected manner, impossible to describe. Remorse, which seems to be a complex emotion, consisting of guilt, shame, anxiety, and sorrow, exhibits the several characteristics of feel- ings. Dr. Burgh says that remorse casts down the countenance and clouds it with anxiety, draws down the eyebrows, and the eyes are often bent upon the ground. The lips are firmly pressed together, and in extreme cases the teeth are gnashed. The muscular tension is often extreme, and the whole body is strained and violently agitated. If this strong remorse is succeeded by the more gracious disposition of penitence or contrition, then the eyes are often raised to heaven, but with a great appearance of doubt, anxiety, and fear, and as often cast down again to the earth. Tears frequently flow. The knees are bent, or the whole person is prostrated on the ground. The arms are extended, and the hands clasped in supplication. The voice of deprecation is interrupted by frequent sighs; ^comparatively high keys and rising inflections prevail, and the tones are weak and tremulous. Craft and slyness are manifested by dispositions that betray themselves more by the eyes and their peculiar movements, than by any other feature in the countenance. Mr. Herbert Spencer in his “ Elements of Psy- chology” (3d edit., p. 552) says, “When there is a desire to see some- thing on one side of the visual field without being supposed to see it, the tendency is to check the conspicuous movement of the head, and to make the requisite adjustment entirely with the eyes, which are there- fore drawn very much to one side. Hence, when the eyes are turned to one side, while the face is not turned on the same side, we get the natural language of what is termed slyness.” Lect. XVIII.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 309 Pride assumes a lofty look, bordering upon the aspect of firmness and determination. Dr. Burgh states it is characterised by the eyes being open, but with the eyebrows considerably contracted and drawn down. The mouth is firmly closed, and the lower lip in general slightly pro- truded. Mr. Darwin says, of all the complex emotions, pride, perhaps, is the most plainly expressed. A proud man exhibits his sense of superiority over others by holding his head and body erect. He is haughty ihmit) or high, and makes himself appear as large as possible ; so that, metaphorically, he is said to be swollen or puffed up with pride. The arrogant man looks down on others, and with lowered eyelids hardly condescends to see them ; or he may show his contempt by slight move- ments about the nostrils or lips ; hence the muscle which everts the lower lip has been called the 7nusculns superbus. The whole expression of pride stands in direct antithesis to that of humility, so that nothing need here be said of the latter state of mind.* Courage gives a free, open air to the whole countenance. The eyes are bright and sparkling, the lips firmly pressed together, the chest ex- panded, and the whole figure erect and free in movement. The voice is firm, full, and often characterised by the light, bounding poise. Helplessness, or the inability to do as desired, is often shown by an action that appears to be common throughout the world, namely, shrugging the shoulders. Mr. Darwin says that this gesture implies an unintentional or unavoidable action on our own part, or one that we cannot perform ; or an action performed by another person that we cannot prevent. It accompanies such speeches as “ It was not my fault;” “It is impossible for me to grant this favour;” “He must follow his own course, I cannot stop him.” Shrugging the shoulders likewise expresses patience, or the absence of any intention to resist, hence the muscles which raise the shoulders are sometimes called, as I have been informed by an artist, “the patience muscles.” Shylock the Jew says — “ Signor Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my monies and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug.” In this action, while the shoulders are raised, the arms are usually bent at the elbows, showing the palms of the hands with extended fingers ; the head is thrown a little on one side, the eyebrows are raised, and at the moment of the action the mouth is commonly open. Obstinacy, or a dogged resolve not to do a thing, is shown by the shrug of the shoulders being higher and more decided, and mouth compressed. Resignation, or submission, appears to be often manifested by the ■open hands being placed one over the other on the lower part of the body, and the countenance is mild and placid in expression. I come now to the consideration of those passions which may be ■called the strongest and most painful in their character, alike as regards * Darwin’s “ Expression of the Emotions,” p. 263, 264. 310 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII I. their subjects and objects. I take first under this head indignation, anger, hatred, and rage ; for these emotions of the mind differ from each other only in degree, and it cannot be said that there are any * precise boundaries that separate the one from the other. These passions appear to be manifested in nearly the same manner among all races of mankind. From the stimulus which indignation and anger give to the general system, the action of the heart is increased, and in consequence of the more rapid circulation of the blood, the eyes become bright and the cheeks flush. The corrugator muscles are called powerfully into action, and a strongly-marked frown is produced, while at the same time the corners of the mouth are drawn down and the lips are closely compressed ; respiration being also quickened, and all the muscles that contribute to this function acting in conjunction, the alee or wings of the nostrils are somewhat spread out to allow of a freer ingress of air. Shakespeare admirably describes all these signs in Henry the Fifth’s address to his soldiers before the siege of Harfleur — “ Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears. Then imitate the action of the tiger ; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. Disguise fair Nature with hard-favoured rage ; Then, lend the eye a terrible aspect ; Let it pry through the portage of the head, Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o’erwhelm it. As fearfully as doth a galled rock O’erhang and jutty his confounded base. Swill’d with the wild and wasteful ocean — Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To his full height ! Now on ! you noblest English, Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof ; Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, And sheath’d their swords for lack of argument ! I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips. Straining upon the start. The game’s a-foot ; Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge. Cry, Heaven for Harry I England ! and St. George ! ” Henry V., act iii. sc. i. In certain cases the action of the heart is so much impeded in extreme rage, that the countenance, instead of flushing, becomes deadly pale, or livid, or sometimes almost purple. Mr. Darwin says that, in general, energy is given to the will and strength to the muscles by the excited condition of the brain under the influence of anger and rage. Lect. XVIIL] ON ELOCUTION, “The body is held erect commonly, as if ready for instant action ; but sometimes it is bent forward towards the offending person with the limbs more or less rigid. The mouth is generally closed with firmness, show- ing fixed determination, and the teeth are clenched or ground together. Such gestures as the raising of the arms with the fists clenched as if to strike the offender are common. Few men, in a great passion and telling some one to begone, can resist acting as if they intended to strike or push the man violently away. The desire, indeed, to strike often becomes so intolerably strong, that inanimate objects are struck or dashed to the ground, but the gestures frequently become altogether purposeless, or frantic. . . . However, the muscular system is some- times affected in a different way altogether, for trembling is a frequent consequence of extreme rage. The paralysed lips then refuse to obey the will, and the voice ‘ sticks in the throat,’ * or it is rendered loud, harsh, or discordant. There is in most cases a strongly marked frown on the forehead, for this follows from the sense of anything displeasing or difficult, together with concentration of mind. But sometimes the brow, instead of being much contracted or lowered, remains smooth, with the glaring eyes kept widely open. The eyes are always bright, or may, as Homer expresses it, ‘glisten with fire.’ They are sometimes bloodshot, and are said to protrude from their sockets, the result, no doubt, of the head being gorged with blood, as shown by the veins being distended.” f When anger expresses itself in language, it is in very varied keys, but always in the most emphatic falling inflections and the heaviest poise of the voice. Jealousy is of all the mixed emotions perhaps the most complex in character. Dr. Burgh says it is compounded of love, hatred, hope, fear, shame, anxiety, suspicion, grief, pity, envy, pride, rage, cruelty, vengeance, and madness. Therefore, to portray jealousy well, as represented in such a character as Othello, requires that the actor should know how to represent truly all these passions by turns, and several of them together. The following is the description of the manifestations of this emotion given by D. Burgh: — “Jealousy shows itself by restlessness, peevishness, anxiety, and thoughtfulness. Sometimes it bursts out in piteous complaint and tears, then a gleam of hope that all is yet well lights up the countenance with a momentary smile. The next moment, perhaps, the face clouds over with a general gloom, showing the mind again overcast with horrid suspicions and frightful imaginations. Then, perhaps, the arms are tightly folded on the breast, or the hands may be violently clenched, while the rolling, bloodshot eyes dart lightning glances of rage and fury. The jealous man, tortured with all these conflicting passions, hurries to and fro, and has no more rest than a ship has, tempest-tossed in a troubled sea, the sport of winds and waves. Again, after awhile, his passion is for a time subdued, and he dwells in his imagination on the memories of past happiness, and calls up the image of his beloved. * In Sir C. Bell’s “Anatomy of Expression,” p. 95, there are some er.ceiienc remarks on the expression of rage. t Darwin’s “Expression of the Emotions,* pp. 241, 242. 312 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVIII. Then his monster-breeding fancy represents her as false as she is fair ; he cries out as one upon the rack, when the cruel engine rends every joint and every sinew snaps. Anon he casts himself upon the ground, then springs up, and with the look and action of a demon bursting from the abyss of hell, he snatches the instrument of death, and after stabbing the woman so loved, suspected, hated, and lamented, plunges the dagger in his own heart, exhibiting a terrible proof of what a man may become by the indulgence of an infernal passion.”* Dr. Burgh has evidently drawn this picture of a man tortured by excess of jealousy from the leading incidents in the character of Othello. It is almost needless to observe that the voice exhibits all the various characteristics of the different conflicting emotions through which the jealous man passes as he gives utterance to his feelings. Contempt, disdain, scorn, and disgust seem to me to be emotions so closely allied that they pass by almost imperceptible degrees into each other. Quiet, calm contempt is usually conveyed by a slight smile and elevation of the upper lip, whilst at the same time the nose is somewhat raised up, and the alee of the nostrils contracted. Duchenne and Gratiolet both speak of the partial closing of the eyelids, or the turning away of the eyes, or the whole person, as being signs that are highly characteristic of disdain.f “ These actions seem to imply,” says Mr. Darwin, “that the despised person is not worth looking at, or is dis- agreeable to behold.” The elevation of the upper lip at one corner and the uncovering of the canine tooth by this action, while the face itself is a little upturned and half-averted from the person who is the object of scorn, is very strongly expressive of that feeling, and Mr. Darwin devotes the latter portion of his tenth chapter to a consideration of the subject and the origin of the action. The snapping of the fingers is also a very frequent and well-known gesture of extreme contempt and scorn. Mr. Tyler, in his “ Early History of Mankind,” J says, in reference to this action, “It is not very intelligible as we generally see it ; but when we notice that the same sign, made quite gently, as if rolling some tiny object away with the thumbnail and forefinger are usual and well understood deaf and dumb gestures, denoting anything tiny, insignificant, or contemptible, it seems as though we had exag- gerated and conventionalised a perfectly natural action, so as to lose sight of its original meaning.” There is a curious mention of this gesture by Strabo. Disgust, as far as my own observations have extended, is in general shown by an exaggerated protrusion of the lips, accompanied by a draw- ing down of the corners of the mouth, and the utterance of certain peculiar, but well-known and strongly expressive, guttural sounds. K shudder more or less in degree may often, in extreme disgust, be seen to run through the whole frame, while a frown contracts the eyebrows and wrinkles the forehead. The arms may be noticed to be closely * Dr. Burgh’s “Essay on the Passions and Humours,” pp. 25, 26, published 1784- + Duchenne: “ Physionomie Humaine,” Album. Legende VIII. p. 35 ; Gratiolet : ‘ De la Physionomie,” 1865, p. 52. Z Second edition, p. 45. Lect. XVII L] ON ELOCUTION. 313 pressed against the sides, and the shoulders raised, where strong disgust is felt. I have now, I think, examined the principal passions and emotions to which human nature is liable. There may be some few others that might be named, but I believe they will be found to be gradations of the foregoing, or else to resolve themselves into complex emotions, and in justification of the time devoted to the full consideration I have given to this subject, I cannot do better than quote the words of Dr. Burgh. “ If it be alleged that some of these passions and emotions are such as hardly ever are likely to come into the way of the speaker at the bar, in the pulpit, or in either House of Parliament, or, indeed, save on the stage, in public life generally, it does not therefore follow that the labour of studying and practising the proper ways of expressing them is useless. On the contrary, every speaker will find his account in enlarging his sphere of practice. A gentleman may not have occasion to fence or dance every day ; but has occasion to go into society every day, and he will enter a room with all the better grace for his having learnt to fence and dance in the most elegant manner. The orator may not have occa- sion actually to express anger, malice, hatred, jealousy, and some few others of the more violent passions; but he will, Ty practising his organs of voice in the art of expressing them, acquire a masterly ease and fluency in giving utterance to those he has actually occasion to express.” * In closing this general review of the emotions of human nature, it would be impossible for me to find a more eloquent peroration than that afforded by Mr. Darwin’s closing v/ords. “ The movements of expression in the face and body, whatever their origin may have been, are in themselves of much importance to our welfare. They serve as the first means of communication between the mother and her infant ; she smiles approval, and thus encourages her child in the right path, or frowns disapproval. We all readily perceive sympathy in others by their expression ; our sufferings are thus mitigated and our pleasures increased, and mutual good feeling is thus strengthened. The movements of expression give vividness and energy to our spoken words. They reveal the thoughts and intentions of others more truly than do words, which may be falsified. Whatever amount of truth the so-called science of physiognomy may contain, appears to depend, as Haller long ago remarked,! on different persons bringing into frequent use different facial muscles according to their dispositions, the develop- ment of these muscles being perhaps thus increased, and the lines or furrows on their face due to their habitual contraction being thus rendered deeper and more conspicuous. The free expression by outward signs of an emotion intensifies it. On the other hand, the repression, as far as this is possible, of all outward signs softens our emotions. J He who gives way to violent gestures will increase his rage ; he who does not *■ Dr. Burgh’s “ Essay on the Passions and Emotions,” p. 27. + Quoted by Moreau in his edition of “ Lavater,” vol. iv. p. 21 1. t Gratiolet, in his “ De la Physionomie ” 1865, p. 6^, insists on the truth of this conclusion. 314 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XVIII. control the signs of fear will experience fear in a greater degree ; and he who remains passive when overwhelmed with grief, loses his best chance of recovering elasticity of mind. These results follow partly from the intimate relation which exists between almost all the emotions and their outward manifestations, and partly from the direct influence of exertion on the heart, and consequently on the brain. Even the simulation of an emotion tends to rouse it in our minds. Shakespeare, who from his wonderful knowledge of the human mind ought to be an excellent judge, says, in the person of Hamlet : — ‘ Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion. Could force his soul so to her own conceit. That from her working all his visage warm’d, Tears in his eyes, distraction in’s aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing 1 ’ We have seen that expression in itself, or the language of the emotions, as it has sometimes been called, is certainly of importance to the welfare of mankind. To understand, as far as is possible, the source or origin of the various expressions which may be hourly seen in the faces of the men around us, not to mention our domestic animals, ought to possess much interest for us. From those several causes, we may conclude that the philosophy of our subject has well deserved the attention which it has already received from several excellent observers, and that it deserves still further attention, especially from any able physiologist. Note. — The student may consult with the greatest advantage Mr. Herbert Spencer’s chapter on “ The Language of the Emotions ” in the second volume of his “ Principles of Psychology,” p. 539. LECTURE XIX. Hindrances to Fluency of Speech — Dr. Abbotts — Stammering and Stuttering — Definition of each of these Impediments — Various Causes of Stammering and Stuttering — Other Varieties of Defective Articulation — Means by which all Impedi- ments of Speech may be removed — Special Directions for the Self-cure of Stammer- ing and Stuttering, and the Correction of all Imperfect and Defective Articulation. PROPOSE in this Lecture treating exclusively of those hin- drances to fluency in delivery which commonly are classified under the names of stammering, stuttering, and impediments of speech. Dr. Abbotts, in his work on “ Stammering and Stuttering,”* says that these painful affections, like many others which depend in some degree upon the nervous system, have of late years been greatly on the increase, especially in our large towns. He considers these maladies to be essentially belonging to a state of civilisa- tion, and asserts that in a condition of savage simplicity stammering and stuttering are next to unknown, a fact which we have upon the authority of many travellers in different parts of the world. He states that Mr. George Gatlin, whose name I have so frequently mentioned, informed him, in answer to his inquiries, that, during the whole of his travels in North and South America, he never met and never heard of any one who stammered, although two millions of savages came under his obser- vation. Dr. Livingstone stated that he saw no native who stammered during the long period he spent in Central Africa, and Commander Cameron, R.N., whose African experience is of course very consider- able, fully confirms Dr. Livingstone’s observations. Dr. Abbotts Smith thinks that, from such data as he has to go by, he should be disposed to set down the proportion of persons suffering under impediments of speech as about one in looo of the whole population of England. Some writers put the estimate much higher, at two and even three per looo of the population. In some localities these high rates might, however, prevail, particujSarly if all cases of slight impediments were taken into consideration. A singular circumstance which has been remarked with respect to the frequency^ of stammering is, that it is much more common in some neighbourhoods than in others. The reason of this is not apparent, but the fact still remains incontrovertible, if an observer will take the trouble to compare in this respect the various districts wi^h which he is acquainted. * Seventh Edition. Pitman, 140 Gower Street. 1879. 3i6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. In some localities it is very rare to meet with persons afflicted with impediments of speech, wfflile in others, of which, says Dr. Abbotts Smith, some parts of Lancashire may be taken as examples, it is not unusual in the course of a single day to meet several persons who suffer from these affections. In the northern districts of Ireland stammering is a common affection, while in Dublin it is comparatively rare. According to the special correspondent of the “ Daily News ” in Spain, it is very rare to meet with a native of that country who is a stammerer. Dr. Abbotts Smith thinks this may perhaps be attributed to the soft, readily-flowing character of the Spanish language, in which opinion I concur, as also in regard to the language of Italy, in which country stammerers are also comparatively very rare. But I think a still stronger reason is to be found in the full, sonorous tone in which Spaniards and Italians as a rule produce, sustain, and finish the numerous recurrent open vowels in their respective languages, and which give them this “ easily-flowing ” character ; and these national characteristics of pronunciation are, I believe, the result of the operation of the law of heredity, as well as of unconscious imitation in early life. In Germany, on the contrary, stammering is frequent ; and it was ascertained by official returns some years ago that in Prussia the proportion of stammerers was as high as two per looo. There is no doubt, I think, alike from my own experience and the observations of others, that impediments of speech are more common among men than w^omen, for which fact it is rather difficult to offer any satisfactory explanation. The proportion of male to female stammerers or stutterers is, in the opinion of Dr. Abbotts Smith, pro- bably about three to one, and when impediments of speech do occur in women, he thinks they are generally more difficult to cure than in the case of men. Lisping, on the contrary, is more prevalent in women ; and often, in Dr. Abbotts Smith’s opinion, originates in mere affectation, just as rhotacism, or changing the rough r into the sound of was at one time an affectation of the “Sir Pwedowick Blounts” of fashionable life, until at last that which was at first voluntarily adopted became by long habit very difficult to shake off. The late Dr. Graves, of Dublin, mentions in his Clinical Lectures a very remarkable case in confirma- tion of this majority of males labouring under impediments of speech as compared with females, and states that he was acquainted with a family in which not a single female stammered, although there had been three generations of male stammerers in this family. Dr. Abbotts says that a very similar instance has come under his own observation, and I may add that I have had under my own care all the male members of two different families in the higher ranks of life who stammered frightfully, while not one of the females had any impedi- ment. Persons, in general, use the terms stammering and stuttering indiscriminately, and call every variety of defective pronunciation by one or the other of these names, as if they were only synonyms. Stammering is the difficulty, in some cases the inability, to properly enunciate some or many of the elementary speech-sounds, accompanied or not by a slow, hesitating, more or less indistinct delivery, but not Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 317 attended with Jrequent repetitions of the initial sounds^ and consequent convulsive efforts to surmount the difficulty. Stuttering, on the other hand, is a vicious utterance manifested by frequent repetitions of initial or other elementary soimds, and always more or less attended with muscular contortions. The above is the definition of these two affections laid down by Dr. Hunt in his admirable and exhaustive book on the subject,'^ and to him is to be given the merit of having been, I believe, the first English writer to discriminate accurately between these two disorders, which differ both in kind and origin. To those who wish fully to investigate the history of these painful and unfortunate affections, which, unless removed, so often mar all the sufferer’s prospects in life, as well as to see the many severe, cruel, and useless operations and mechanical appliances which, from time to time, and by various persons, have been proposed, and too often adopted, for the cure of these maladies, I most strongly recom- mend Dr. Hunt’s work on stammering, as well as his larger work, entitled “The Philosophy of Voice and Speech.” f I avail myself of Dr. Hunt’s excellent resume to place before you the chief causes of stammering. “ Vowel Stammering. — The belief that stammering occurs only in the pronunciation of consonants is certainly erroneous; the vowels are equally subject to this defect, though not to the same extent as the con- sonants. The proximate causes of defective-vowel sounds may have their seat either in the vocal apparatus, or in the oral canal. The original sounds may be deficient in quality, from an affection of the vocal ligaments, as in hoarseness ; or the sounds may be altered in the buccal and nasal cavities, from defects, or an improper use of the velum ; in which cases the vowels are frequently aspirated. Enlargement of the tonsils, defective lips and teeth, may also influence the enunciation of the vowels. But the whole speech-apparatus may be in a healthy state, and yet the enunciation of the vowels may be faulty, from misemploy- ment, or from defective association of the various organs upon which the proper articulation of the vowels depend. In some cases the faulty pronunciation may be traced to some defect in the organ of hearing. “defective enunciation of consonants. “ Consonafital Stanmering may, like that of the vowels, be the result of an organic affection, either of the vocal apparatus, or of the organs of articulation. When, for instance, the soft palate, either from existing apertures or inactivity of its muscles, cannot close the posterior nares, so that the oral canal may be separated from the nasal tube, speech acquires a nasal timbre, and the articulation of many consonants is variously affected. B and p then assume the sound of an indistinct m ; d and t sound somewhat like n ; and g and k like ng. The action of the velum during speech is thus described by Sir Charles Bell : — ■ “ ‘ In a person whom I had the pain of attending long after the bones * Hunt on “Stammering.” Longman & Co., 1861. t Longman & Co., 1859. 3i8 KlNG^S college lectures [Lect XIX. of the face were lost, and in whom I could look down behind the palate, I saw the operation of the velum palati. During speech it was in con- stant motion ; and when the person pronounced the explosive letters, the velum rose convex, so as to interrupt the ascent of breath in that direc- tion ; and as the lips parted, or the tongue separated from the teeth or palate, the velum recoiled forcibly.’ “ On the other hand, closure of the nasal tube, either from a common cold or other obstructions, affects the articulation of n, ng^ which then sound nearly as b, d, g hard. “the chief causes of stammering. “ The variety of defects which constitute stammering result either from actual defective organisation or from functional disturbance. Among organic defects may be enumerated : hare-lip, cleft-palate, abnormal length and thickness of the uvula, inflammation and enlarge- ment of the tonsils, abnormal size and tumours of the tongue, tumours in the buccal cavity, want or defective position of the teeth, &c. “ Dr. Ashburner, in his work on Dentition, mentions a very curious case of a boy who, though not deaf, could not speak. This he attributed to the smallness of the jaws, which, taking at length a sudden start in growth, by which the pressure was taken off from the dental nerves, the organs became free, and the boy learned to speak. Considering that the teeth play but a subordinate part in articulating — for all the speech sounds, including even the dentals, may be pronounced without their aid, as is the case in toothless age — it is certainly not a little singular that the mere pressure on the dental nerves should produce such an effect. It is very possible that in this case the motions of the lower jaw and of the tongue were impeded, but even then it is not easy to account for the fact that the child never attempted to articulate, how- ever imperfectly. “ When the organs are in a normal condition, and the person is unable to place them in a proper position to produce the desired effect,the affec- tion is said to be functional. Debility, paralysis, spasms of the glottis, lips, &c., owing to a central or local affection of the nerves, habit, imitation, &c., may all more or less tend to produce stammering. “ From these observations it may be inferred that stammering is either idiopathic^ when arising from causes within the vocal and articu- lating apparatus ; or it is symptomatic, when arising from cerebral irrita- tion, paralysis, general debility, intoxication, &c. Children stammer, partly from imperfect developments of the organs of speech, want of control, deficiency of ideas, and imitation, or in consequence of cerebral and abdominal affections. The stammering, or rather faltering of old people, chiefly arises from local or general debility. The cold stage of fever, intoxication, loss of blood, narcotics, may all produce stammering. Stammering is idiopathic and permanent in imbecility, when the slow- ness of thought keeps pace with the imperfection of speech. It may also be transitorily produced by sudden emotions. Persons gifted with great volubility, when abruptly charged with some real or pretended delinquency, may only be able to stammer out an excuse. Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 319 “ STUTTERING. “ The main feature of stuttering consists in the difficulty in conjoining and fluently enunciating syllables, words, and sentences. The interrup- tions are more or less frequent, the syllables or words being thrown out in jerks. Hence the speech of stutterers has been by Shakespeare* (and by Plutarch before him) aptly compared to the pouring out of water from a bottle with a long neck, which either flows in a stream, or is intermittent ; the patient in the former case, feeling that his glottis is open, endeavours to pour out as many words as possible before a new interruption takes place. The stoppage of the sound may take place at the second or third syllable of a word, but occurs more frequently at the flrst, and the usual consequence is, that the beginning of a syllable is several times repeated until the difficulty is conquered. The stutterer, unless he be at the same time a stammerer, which is now and then the case, has generally no difficulty in articulating the elejnentary sounds, in which respect he differs from the latter ; it is in the combination of these sounds in the formation of words and sentences that his infirmity consists. “Stuttering does not attain to the same degree in all persons. In the most simple cases the affection is but little perceptible ; the person speaks nearly without interruption, and merely hesitates at certain con- sonants, vowels, or syllables. In the second degree, the impediment is much more marked and unpleasant to the listener. The i^epditions are more frequent, and though the discourse is nearly continuous, it is effected by manifest efforts, and accompanied with gesNculatmis, by the subjects dwelling sometimes longer than usual upon one syllable or word, and uttering the rest of the sentence with greater rapidity, as if they distrusted themselves. “Sometimes the efforts of the patient are truly formidable. The tongue flies about the mouth, the face reddens, the countenance is distorted, even the eyes partake of the general commotion ; most of the respiratory and vocal muscles are thrown into a spasmodic action, which extends to the limbs. The patient fumes and stamps, sometimes pinch- ing and hitting himself ; frequently he feels a choking sensation, and the perspiration flows from his forehead ; but despite of all his efforts, he can only produce some discordant and inarticulate sounds. The whole of these distressing phenomena is frequently the effect of the slightest of all causes, the effort to articulate a difficult syllable ; for the paroxysm can be instantly checked by the patient relaxing his effort, f * “ I pr’ythee, tell me who is it? quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I pr’ythee take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings .” — As You Like It., Act iii. Sc. 2. t _“Dr. Semmola {Opere Minori.., Nap., 1845), states a case of a young water- carrier, who had not the aspect of disease. On asking him what was the matter, he was seized by the most terrible convulsions, which continued until he brought out the word, and returned on his attempting to speak. But when silent they immediately ceased. The affection had come on a few days ago from a fright. Dr. Semmola con- 320 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. “ Vowel Stuttering. — There prevails generally a belief that stuttering only occurs when the initial sound is a consonant ; this is an error, for the affection may extend to all the sounds, vowels as well as consonants. In order to understand this, we must bear in mind, that though a word may commence with a vowel, it is still requisite that the glottis should be previously narrowed or closed, for the purpose of placing the vocal chords in a proper position to vibrate. In normal speech the contraction lasts but an instant, being immediately followed by the requisite vibra- tion of the ligaments. In certain conditions, however, the contraction of the glottis lasts longer than usual, and the vowel sound is stopped in the glottis ; or, as is not quite correctly said, vox faucibus hceret. This state may be merely transitory, the result of some sudden powerful emotion or passion. Tears, grief, joy, anger, all may take away the power of utterance. The greatest singers are frequently, on making their first appearance before an audience, upon whose approval their fate depends, unable to utter a single note. The vowels u (as heard in rude) and o seem to offer to the stutterer greater difficulties than e (as in ebb) or i (as in it). “ Consona7ital Stutteidng. — Though stuttering, as has been shown, extends also to the vowels, yet it chiefly occurs at the utterance of the mute and explosive consonants and their medials, as /, /, k., b, d, g, m., &c. The aspirated and continuous sounds, as /, w, .r, &c., offer much less difficulties, as the oral canal is then not so completely closed as in the explosives. “Let me not be understood to join in the common error — first, that it is on account of the difficulty of articulating the explosives that stuttering occurs ; and secondly, that stuttering begins during the enunciation of these consonants. The articulation of the explosives and mutes is, per se^ not more difficult than that of the other conso- nants. The very first letters, indeed, which the child learns to utter are w, /, d, bj papa, mamma, dada, &c. Again, the stutterer (not the stammerer) has no difficulty of articulating the consonants individually, for we hear him repeat in rapid succession b, b^ b, b, /, /, /, and so on. What is it then that distresses the stutterer? — surely not the initial explosive. Why, it is the enunciation of the following sound, be it a vowel or a consonant, which is his difficulty ; he cannot join them, and it is this which makes him repeat the explosive until the conjunction is effected. It is, therefore, during the transition from one mechanism to another that the impediment chiefly takes place. “ A syllable or a word may commence with a vowel followed by a consonant, or it may commence with a consonant followed by a vowel. At first sight, it may appear that it matters very little whether the vowel or the consonant is the initial sound. A little reflection will show that it makes all the difference. In commencing a syllable with a vowel, the oral canal is more widely opened than when it commences with a consonant. In forming the syllables < 2 /, ebb., ott, &c., all that is necessary is to close the buccal cavity to produce the consonant, the sidered it a case of hypersthenea cerebralis, and bled and leeched him at the temples. After ten hours he was able to speak well.” Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. T2I change in the mouth being easily adjusted, and few stutterers (unless they are also vowel stutterers) find any difficulty in enunciating such syllables. But when a consonant commences the syllable, the mecha- nism is reversed, the oral canal must be opened to produce the vowel ; the articulating organs must be released from the state of contraction, and the vowel must overcome the consonant. This it may appear could be easily effected, if it were merely requisite to give free vent to the interrupted air current by opening the mPuth. But it must be considered that in the articulation of the explosives there is, in fact, a double obstruction of the sound, not merely in the mouth, but also in the glottis, as in their enunciation the larynx is fixed, which is not necessary in the other consonants. Both these obstructions must not only be suddenly removed, but (and which is the difficulty) there must be at the same moment when the oral canal is opened in front and behind, a sound produced in the larynx by forcing the air from the lungs ; that is to say, that during the formation of the explosive, the vowel must be ready to follow and to overcome it. If this cannot be effected, the muscles which close the oral canal may continue in a state of contraction, and the formation of the syllable is retarded until repeated attempts prove more successful in liberating the articulating organs. It is the disturbed relation and the antagonism between the vocal and the articulating mechanism which give rise to stuttering • the spasmodic condition of the glottis, which only takes place in the explosive sounds, is the and not the cause of the disturbed relation. Both Sauvages and Joseph Frank* contend that the gutturals^ and k offer the greatest impediment to the stutterer, and that the chief cause is the difficulty of moving the velum, the uvula, and the root of the tongue. This is not invariably the case. Some stutterers pronounce these consonants in various combinations easily enough, but stutter at the dentals and labials /, /, d. There are again some in whom the impediment varies ; they hesitate one day at the gutturals, another day at the labials, or may be at the dentals, depending, no doubt, in most cases on their combinations with the succeeding sounds, “principal causes of stuttering. “i!\mong the exciting causes of stuttering may be enumerated affec- tions of the brain and spinal cord, the abdominal canal, abnormal irri- tability of the nervous system, vice, mental emotions, mimicry, and involuntary imitation. The proximate cause of stuttering is, in most cases, the abnormal action of the phonetic and respiratory apparatus, and not, like stammering, the result either of organic defects, or the debility of the articulating organs.” I have had, in the course of the private practice of my vocation, a great number of pupils who have presented almost every variety of stammering, stuttering, and defective articulation, so that my experience of such cases, and the successful means to be employed for removing them in each individual case, is tolerably large and comprehensive. * “Nosol. method. 1772. Praxeos Medicse Universte precepta. Lipsia, 1811-23.” X 322 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. Since I have had the honour of filling the office of Lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking in these King’s College Evening Classes, I have met with some few students who have suffered from impediments of speech of various kinds, but a great many members of the class have had their pronunciation characterised more or less by defective articula- tion, of which I have observed the most frequent to be inability to pro- nounce the roughs or as it is sometimes called, the trilled R, often giving it the sound of W ; the double breath consonant “ Th,” often giving it the sound of F ; the due aspiration of the H in words where it should be heard ; the proper simple sibilation of the S, converting it into the sound of SH or TH, or what is termed the lisp; inability to sound rightly the last of the letters in words which terminate in NG; an impure sounding of the voice-consonants M and N, so that they have almost the sound of B and D ; and weakness in the articulation of what are called explosive consonants, particularly P and B. The vowels, too, I have often found to be impurely sounded. In all such cases it has been my practice to form a private class, and give them in my own room lessons adapted for the removal of their several defects in pronunciation, before they again joined the general class for Public Reading and Speaking. Now for overcoming such defects it is essential the pupil should be shown exactly how each letter in the alphabet is properly formed by the various speech organs ; and as my object in publishing this Lecture is to afford, as far as mere verbal instruction can convey it, a knowledge of this first and most important element in the art of overcoming difficulties in pronunciation, I have thought it best to add to this Lecture an appendix, in which the pupil will find, not merely an exact and minute description of the manner in which each letter in our alphabet is formed by the voice and articulating organs, but also under each letter a series of appropriate exercises, the practice of which should be diligently carried out (if possible under the watchful care of a judicious master) in order to acquire purity, firmness, audibility and distinctness in the pronunciation of all the various letters. I can assure you, from a long and varied experience in treating persons labouring under impediments of all kinds, that a knowledge of the correct mode of forming the different letters is of the most essential service to the stammerer and stutterer, as well as to those who imagine they are incapable of pronouncing certain particular letters. I have never yet met with any individual in either sex who, provided there was no organic defect of structure in the vocal or articulating organs, could not be taught, by proper explanation and practice, to overcome all diffi- culties, and pronounce every letter in the English alphabet. When attempting to pronounce a letter in which the pupil always experiences a difficulty, the trial should be made at first with extreme slowness and precision. This applies equally to letters and to words; and in the latter instance care must be taken that every syllable (especially the light or unaccented syllable, which is very apt to be slurred over) be clearly and distinctly articulated. It has been truly said, by a late medical writer (Mr. Bartlett), that — Stammering proceeds by steps so gradual, as to be scarcely per- Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 323 ceptible from a slight hesitation at particular times only, and which a person not accustomed to this kind of disease would not notice, to a constant stammering accompanied with violent efforts at pronunciation, and great contortion of the countenance : these two states, apparently so dissimilar, are produced by the same cause, and are essentially the same, the disease being more violent in the one case than in the other. If this slight hesitation, observable only at certain times, be not attended to, it will, if it occur in a sensitive and diffident person, and especially if a quick talker, come on more frequently, becoming worse each time of its attack, until it is gradually formed into complete stammering. I need scarcely remark, that a hesitation admits of an easier and a quicker cure than a case of confirmed stammering. It therefore becomes ihe duty of a person who hesitates, a duty not only to himself but to his family also, not to continue to speak in his usual hesitating, undecided manner, but to endeavour to breakthrough his old habits, and to articulate with a precision equal to that of his friends. On the other hand, if he neglect the rules here prescribed, he will be compelled to look forward to a life of confirmed stammering, to an incapability of expressing his thoughts, to a perfect seclusion from society. Let me prevail on all those who hesitate in the slightest not to defer the endeavour to throw off this pernicious habit. The stammerer should be urged to cure himself, not solely on account of his own sufferings ; he should consider also the pain which his futile attempts at pronunciation must inflict on his friends, who are at all times fearful lest his articulation prove defective ; if regardless of himself, he surely ought to study the comfort of his family and his friends. In not curing himself, the stammerer does his utmost to perpetuate the disease in his own family. If the imitation of an indifferent person be so» likely to occasion this disease, how much the more probable is it for this malady to be produced when the person imitated is one who is respected and esteemed ! It may be said in extenuation, that the stammerer inculcates the principle to his children that they are to imitate his good points only, and that they are particularly to avoid his manner of speaking : — this may be attempted, but it will not succeed. Imitation is a principle inherent in us ; man will continue to imitate until his nature is changed. How can the stammerer expect his children to accomplish that which was out of his own power? Could he avoid imitation ? Did he not imitate ? Then why is it that he expects his children to possess that exemption from imitation which he himself did not ? “ Ancient medicine is deficient in information on stammering; and what Hippocrates, Aristotle, and Galen have said is scarcely worthy of note. They are especially silent on the treatment : this is the more to be wondered at, since elocution opened the road to honours and the first dignities of the State.” I differ, however, entirely from Mr. Bartlett when he advises patients suffering from imperfect articulation to practise reciting or reading Greek and Latin passages, rather than what he calls our “ harsh and rugged English.” I utterly deny that the English of good composition is either a “harsh or rugged” language, when properly read or spoken, unless 324 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. words of “harsh and rugged” sound be purposely introduced on the principle I have before adverted to, viz., that of concord between sound and sense — a principle that prevails in all languages with which I have any acquaintance. It is a curious fact, but certainly my own experience warrants me in saying that very few, if any, stammerers or stutterers ever habitually rightly and properly form or duly sustain their vowels in reading, and still less in speaking. I have noticed, also, that this defect is more gene- rally found, not only in northern nations as distinguished from southern, but also in inhabitants of the northern counties of our own island more frequently than in those of the south, and in the natives of Scotland oftener than in those of England and Ireland. On the other hand, I have remarked that in general they possess the counterbalancing advan- tage of articulating the consonants more firmly and distinctly. Persons who have been taught the art of singing, almost always sound the vowels and sustain them in reading or speaking better than those who have not acquired that accomplishment; and I have frequently advised, with manifestly good results, pupils of both sexes, who have laboured under impediments of speech, to take a course of lessons under a teacher of singing, while going through the method of treatment specially adapted to remove their individual defects in pronunciation. And now I enter on that branch of the subject to which this Lecture is more particularly directed, viz., the right method of overcoming and effectually removing all impediments of speech ; I venture to think that in comparatively slight cases, and where the malady is only just begin- ning, the regular and steady observance of the rules I am about to give will be amply sufficient to remove all difficulty in delivery. In more serious cases, and in cases of long standing, the aid of the experienced master who has given his time and careful attention to such subjects of study, should be sought without delay, that he by observation may ascertain what are the special parts of the vocal or articulating mecha- nism which are at fault, and point out to the patient what are the rules particularly applicable to his individual case, and which must be at all times and on all occasions observed and strictly carried out by him. And here let me, in the most emphatic inanner^ say that the removal of every variety of stammering and stuttering, as well as all other kinds of defective articulation, rests, after all, mainly in the ever-watchful self- vigilance, and daily and hourly care and practice of the patient himself. He must be taught to do that at first slowly, and consciously^ which the person who has no sort of impediment or defect in speaking does easily and unconsciously. This must be done steadily and perseveriu^ly, until an old bad habit is quite forgotten, and a new and good one is acquired so thoroughly as to form, as it were, “a second nature” with the patient. In my own practice with such cases I repudiate entirely the use of any sort of mechanical appliance, and I rely (provided, of course, that there is no cleft palate or other organic defect) upon a natural process of cure alone. In all such cases I am of opinion that Nature has but to be set to pursue her course in the right direction, and all difficulties in pronunciation will be eventually entirely removed. LEOT. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 325 But again I say most earnestly that all that the very best and most experienced teacher can do, is to ascertain what is the special cause of the impediment, and point out the right rules to be always observed by the patient for its removal. If the latter fail to observe them, he will most assuredly relapse ; but if he will only exercise ordinary patience and. self-care and vigilance, and remember to carry out the right method he has been made acquainted with, as specially applicable to his individual case, he will as certainly reap the rich reward of possessing ere long perfect ease, self-possession, and fluency of speech at all times and upon all occasions. And with these words of encouragement, as well as warning, I proceed now to lay down the general RULES TO BE OBSERVED FOR THE REMOVAL OF STAMMERING, STUTTERING, AND OTHER IMPEDIMENTS OF SPEECH. In the first place, the patient should endeavour to acquire a habit of calm self-possession, and try to free the mind as far as possible, when in the presence of others, of all fear and trepidation, and avoid all excesses of any kind, and all undue causes of excitement. Secondly. — Before the patient who is labouring under stammering, stuttering, or any kind of impediment, attempts to speak or read, let him first take care that the upper surface of the tongue is applied to the roof of the mouth immediately behind the front teeth. A calm, but at the same time thoroughly full and deep inspiration, will then cause the air to enter the lungs by its proper channel, viz., the air- passages of the nostrils ; the lungs will become then properly inflated, and the chest and ribs will rise and expand, so that the lungs will have ample room for the due performance of all their functions. It is perfectly certain that all articulation occurs only during the expiration of the air from the lungs in its outward passage through the windpipe, vocal cords, and mouth ; consequently, when the lungs are inade- quately inflated, and there is but a small quantity of air within them, there must necessarily be experienced a great difficulty in speaking. This can be tested readily enough. Let any person run a short distance at full speed, and then be asked at once to relate some story or read some book. He will find it is quite impossible for him to do so, and the chances are that he will not be able to pronounce half-a-dozen consecutive words. Why is this ? The answer is very short and simple. In common parlance, the runner, by reason of the violent exercise he has taken, is “ out of breath ; ” that is to say, he has not enough air in his lungs for the purpose of articulation. Now then let this exhausted runner rest a minute or two, and take a long and full inspiration, in the manner I have already sufficiently explained, and he will find then that he can speak or read with audibility and distinctness. Now here, in fact. Nature has been her own physician. Is it not the strongest proof of the vital importance it must be to the confirmed stammerer or stutterer, to thoroughly inflate his lungs in the proper way before he begins to speak or read at all, and at every proper pause in his discourse to avail himself systematically of the opportunity afforded of calmly, but adequately, in the same way of replenishing the lungs, and so 326 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. supplying them with a fresh supply of air in lieu of that which has been expended in the production of voice and speech ? Dr. Chervin of Paris, at the general meeting of the International Congress of Physicians, held in the autumn of 1878 at Amsterdam, in a paper which he read on Stammering, defined it as “ the rhythm of respiration destroyed,” and said that, with perseverance and attention on the part of the patient, it might be cured in three weeks. Thirdly. — In the act of speaking and reading, the patient must take care to control thoroughly the outward passage of the breath, and to let it escape as slowly as possible. The expiration should be thoroughly economised ; none of it should be wasted by letting any escape before the act of speech begins. It should not be allowed to come out in jerks or gasps, but its passage should be easy, steady, and gradual ; for it cannot be too firmly borne in mind that it is on the extension, combined with the regularity of expiration, that the intensity, the duration, and the steadiness of all vocal vibrations depend ; and Sehor Garcia’s test of practising the voice with a lighted candle held before the mouth may be applied here. If the flame be extinguished, or even wavers much, the patient may take it as a sign that he is expending too much air. Fourthly. — I would impress on the patient who may be suffering under any kind of impediment of speech, the indispensable necessity that the greatest care and attention should be given that the lips, teeth, and tongue all perform strictly their several functions when employing the letters requiring the individual or combined use of them. For this purpose let the patient refer to the appendix I have added to this Lecture, in which he will find minute directions for the right formation of every letter in the alphabet, together with a copious series of exercises on every vowel or consonant singly or in combination. The great advantage, or rather I should say, the absolute and indispensable necessity, of observing this rule must be evident to every one who reflects on the subject for a moment ; for how can manifold and widely-different sounds be properly produced by the same structures, if the passage through which they have to pass be not modified in shape ? And yet it will be noticed many persons speak with a very loose action of the lips, and scarcely any perceptible alteration in their forms. Can it be wondered at that such persons are always feeble and indistinct in their delivery, and when they attempt to speak in public, are always very imperfectly heard, even by those who are near them? It will be seen on referring to the appendix there are very many letters which can be sounded or articu- lated by no other means than a decided alteration in the form of the mouth, and equally marked change in the shape of the lips. Fifthly. — Having thoroughly been made to understand the precise formation and clear sound of every letter in the alphabet, next let the pupil compare, and form an accurate notion of, the corresponding sound which exists between the termination of each syllable or word, and the sound of the letter itself which so ends it, that he may thus conceive a proper idea of the sound to be produced ; as, for instance, “m” in the word “ them,” “ n ” in “ then,” “ e ” in “ thee.” “ o ” in “ no,” “ x ” in “rex,” &c. Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 327 Sixthly. — Let the patient effectually conquer the bad habit which pre- vails so largely among those who stutter or stammer (I really think my own experience warrants me in saying in ninety-nine out of every hundred stammerers) of keeping the lips apart and the mouth open. Nothing can be ivorse in every way than this bad habit, either as regards the power of clear articulation and fluent speech, the proper condition of the lungs, or the vacant expression which it gives the countenance. I always tell all stammering pupils frankly, if I see they have this vile habit, that I can do very little, if anything, towards removing their various impediments until they have thoroughly conquered it, and acquired the habit of always keeping the lips firmly but easily pressed together; except, of course, when reading or speaking. Even in sleep, if possible, the mouth should always be kept closed, and the respiration only carried on through the air-passages of the nostrils. To all persons, whether affected with impediments of speech or not, I would say in the most earnest manner, acquire the habit of conducting the function of respiration always by the air-passages which lead from the nostrils ; never by means \ of the open mouth. If the reader would wish to see minutely in detail all the good results which follow, and all the evils which are avoided, by acquiring this habit, I refer him again to the book I mentioned, lately published by Mr. George Gatlin, the North American Indian traveller, entitled “ The Breath of Life.’^* Seventhly. — This rule that I am about to give follows almost as a necessary corollary from the last. All persons, but more especially the stammerer, should acquire the habit of keeping the upper surface of the tongue, when not speaking, closely applied to the roof of the mouth, the point of the tongue being immediately behind the upper front teeth. When the tongue is so placed it is in the best possible situation for beginning to speak or read, for voice is produced by a slight depression, and hence articulation is much facilitated. Keeping the tongue at the bottom of the mouth, instead of placing it in the proper position as just described, is, I can assure the stammerer, one of the worst habits possible for him, or any one affected with impediments of speech. Stammerers anxious to pronounce a word beginning with a lingual immediately endeavour to do so without applying the tongue to the roof of the mouth. This being impossible, they struggle in vain to speak, and are wholly incapable of the slightest articulation. After the tongue has been rightly placed, and a good inspiration taken in the proper way, it is very far from usual to perceive much difficulty after the first syllable has been well and carefully articulated. It may be truly said here, that when not deficient in breath, dest le premier pas qui cotite’’'' with the stammerer or stutterer. Both may rest assured that it is perfectly impossible for them, or any one else, to articulate without strictly following out this direction, and therefore it is of the very utmost importance that it should be always borne in mind by those who have habitually any difficulty in articulation. The stam- merer, stutterer, and every one affected with any kind of defective articu- lation, should make it a matter of the most scrupulous care when silent to keep the tongue completely and closely applied to the roof of the * Triibner & Co., London, 328 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. mouth ; for when in this position, it is ready and able to perform all its functions most effectually, and with the greatest promptitude. If per- sons suffering from impediments of speech will only bear in mind this direction, they will spare themselves all those distressing spasmodic convulsions of the tongue, lips, and sometimes the whole countenance, which are almost as painful to the spectator to witness as they are to the sufferer to endure. Eighthly. — Let the patient who has any kind of difficulty or impedi- ment in speech, most scrupulously avoid all hasty, careless slurring of words. He must give every syllable that is long its proper quantity, by dwelling on the vowel sound in it, and also avoid making any syllable which is short improperly long. Especially should he observe the great law of poise^ and make every syllable that is heavy really so by the due weight or percussion of the voice on it, and let the corresponding reaction be equally perceptible on the syllable that is light. I refer the patient to what I have said already on the necessity of properly using the mechanism of the action and reaction of the larynx for thoroughly carrying out and duly maintaining this poise in all speaking and reading. Ninthly. — I earnestly advise all persons with impediments of speech, whether confirmed stammerers and stutterers, or only just beginning to hesitate, to be very slow and deliberate in reading and speaking, espe- cially at first. Among the large number of patients whom I have had under my care for the removal of all kinds of impediments and difficul- ties in articulation, I have met with but very few who did not habitually speak with painful rapidity, and at times almost breathless haste, until they are suddenly stopped in mid career of their impetuous speech by the impediment suddenly coming on. By a spasmodic effort, eventually they recover their power of articulation, and rattle on with their hurried words until they are once more arrested in the same way, in the very midst of a word, perhaps ; and so they go on to the pain and distress of themselves and those whom they are addressing. In the life of Charles Kingsley, recently published, will be found a most sensible letter addressed to a young lady, who laboured under an impediment of speech, which concludes by telling her above all things to take care in reading and speaking (until the impediment is quite overcome) to be “ SLOW — SLOW — SLOW.” It is well known that the late Canon Kingsley in early life was a great sufferer from stammering, and was cured by the late Dr. Hunt. Tenthly. — Let the stammerer, in speaking, have the word he intends to use in his mind before he attempts to utter it with his mouth. In fact, the mind, in speaking, should always be trained to be in advance of the lips. No person should attempt to speak a single sentence until he knows thoroughly beforehand what it is that he intends to say, and the choice of words being mentally made, he should then pronounce them firmly and deliberately. Let the patient begin to acquire confidence by practising reading aloud first, then recitation from memory, and lastly, a short extempore discourse on some subject. Then let him repeat the same series of exercises in the same order to one or two friends, and as his confidence in himself increases, it would be desirable to increase the Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 329 number of his audience. By these means he will find his difficulties gradually disappear, and ease, fluency, and self-possession will take the place of hesitation, timidity, and self-distrust. It is right to mention that Dr. Coen of Vienna, who has acquired a great Continental reputation for his successful treatment of stammering, stuttering, and other defects of speech, strongly advises the use of Ling’s Swedish system of gymnastics as a most valuable accessory to all elocu- tionary treatment of the various causes which hinder fluency of speech ; and in doing so he necessarily implies that the whole muscular system requires bracing. Dr. Shuldham also, in the last edition of his work on “Stammering and its Treatment,” states that he, too, makes use of the movement-cure, when it is specially indicated, and in addition advises his patients to take strong exercise in the open air. In the advisability of such accessories being employed, I most thoroughly concur. It is impossible for the nervous and muscular systems not to be greatly strengthened by such exercises when gradually and judiciously carried out. Dr. Shuldham mentions also that great importance is given by Dr. Coen to elocutionary treatment of defects of speech, and that, as valuable accessories to such treatment, he makes use, when he deems it advisable, of electricity and the water-cure. SUPPLEMENT TO LECTURE XIX. The Functions of the Vocal and Speech Organs in the formation of all the various letters of the English alphabet, singly and in combination — Full Tables of Exercises for Practice, as applicable to Stammerers, Stutterers, and all persons suffering from any kind of Defective or Imperfect Articulation. an appendix to the forgeoing Lecture on impediments and defects of speech, I subjoin the following series of exercises on the various consonants and vowels, singly and in combina- tion, selected from various sources, but chiefly from the large edition (1820) of the treatise on Elocution, by the late Mr. B. H. Smart, the daily practice of the pronunciation of which will be found most useful to persons labouring under defective articulation, and will contribute much to firmness and fluency of speech. PRONUNCIATION. As the following exercises are intended, not for acquiring the pronun- ciation of our language, but for improving it, the consonants are brought forward before the vowels, because the most usual defects of utterance may chiefly be traced to them. And as an alphabetical arrangement of consonants would not be accompanied with any advantage, the following order, which has been found a convenient one, is preferred : h, w,y, ng, s, and 2r, sh and its correspondent vocal, /and v, tJi and its correspondent vocal, /, r, /, and k and i, and d. In reading the praxes on these sounds, the pupil must be careful to form each consonant with strong compressive force, and those formed with the voice should be made distinct from those formed with the breath. To know what sounds are represented, these two directions should be constantly in view : 1. The letter or letters deiiotwg the sound exemplified, are in italic. 2. When a letter or letters denote the sound exemplified and something more^ they are p 7 'inted in capital. The pronouncing of detached words may be so conducted as to be a very useful preparatory training of the ear and of the voice. As words unconnected in sense require no particular tone, the student will, if left to himself, sometimes adopt an upward, sometimes a downward inflec- tion, according to the impulse of the moment ; that is to say, if lie read them in quick succession, the idea of continuation will induce him to pronounce each with a conjunctive inflection; if he read them slowly, Lect. XIX.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 331 the pause after each will probably determine him to employ the dis- junctive. Let it be his object to acquire the power of uttering the one or the other of these inflections at pleasure. This will, at first, be attended with no slight difficulty : though determined, perhaps, to use the downward inflection, the idea of continuation will prevail, and cause him to use the other in spite of himself : being sensible of his failure, he will make a second trial, and probably imagine because he has pro- nounced the word in a lower or softer tone, that he has altered the inflection : this, however, does not necessarily follow ; for the same inflection may be pitched very high or very low, and it may be uttered very gently or very forcibly. To avoid these mistakes, he must, during some time, use the following form of a question as a test : — Did I say strange or strange ? By this he will be instinctively impelled to utter the word, first, with an upward then with a downward slide, and to know, by comparison, in which manner he had previously uttered it. After some time the ear will become familiar with the slides, and the test may be laid aside. Having them now entirely at command, he must exercise his voice in carrying them, as far as possible, from one extreme to the other, something in the manner of a singer running the gamut from low to high, and high to low. Let him also vary their motion, making them sometimes rapid and sometimes slow. Such an exercise on detached words will probably be thought a little ridiculous, but the student may rest confident of its utility. It will not only give him a clear feeling of the kind of tones he ought to use, but will add flexibility to his voice, and remove from it any unpleasant monotony ; for what is called a monotonous voice, is not, in fact, a voice that never gets above or below one musical key, but one which is incapable of taking a sufficient compass in its inflections. The same exercises may be made to serve another purpose, namely, the gradual training of the speaker to the due preservation of rlLyihvms. Lists of unconnected words, in pronouncing which there can be no danger of sacrificing sense to sound, seem to offer the best introduction to systematic practice on this subject ; and accordingly, the lists are arranged for this purpose among others, by keeping together, as much as possible, words of similar accentuation. In pronouncing these, the returns of accent will be regular, and the student is desired to mark each return by beating time with his hand, observing to make a pause of equal duration between each word, regulated by the beating of the hand. At the end of the praxis on each consonant, an exercise on Juter- jiinction is given. h. The sound denoted by this letter consists merely in a forcible expulsion of the breath. In the following exercise, it is judged advisable to intermingle words in which the sound is not required with others that demand it, that the pupil may become secure both in the use of it and in the omission. In some words h is quite silent ; namely, in hei?', honest, honour, hour, and all the derivatives. These will be known by the letter not being in italic. In a few words, namely, those in which letter 0 follows 7oh, the sound generally denoted by h alone is denoted by the two letters ivh, which will be known by both letters being in italic. If the iv is not in italic, it must have its 332 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. proper sound, which must follow, and not precede, the forcible expulsion of breath signified by h. //all all aunt //aunt who art heir //air hour //ew //uge who\o w//ale w//eat \v/^ig //eathen hydra, honest //umble /^uman //umour whoWy honour w>^irlpool w//imper //ostler ^£///olesome co/^ort //ot//ouse //arts/zorn //ereout //erein //ereon >^arangue be//ind per//aps inert in//ale ab/^or //armony artichoke //umanise /zudibras humorous hospital ve/zement co/zobate be/zemoth /^eteroclite i^eterodox /zospitable /zydromancy /zorticulture /zieroglyphical incompre/^ensible /zypochondriacal /^elio- centrical. He-/zad-learned-the-7£//zole-art-of-angling by->^eart. ' Be-honest /zumble and-/^umane /^ate-not-even-your-enemies. The-portrait-of-an-old-w>^ig in-a- brown-wig. W ith-many-a- weary-step and-many-a-groan Up-a-/zigh->^ill /^e-/zeaved a-/^uge-round-stone. w: y. These letters, when at the beginning of words or syllables, denote consonants, the former of which consists in a forcible action of the lips when in the position to utter the vowel generally denoted by oo ; and the latter in a forcible action of the under jaw when the organs are placed to sound e. Both these sounds are occasionally denoted by other characters, which the pupil will discover by the letters in italic. With the examples other words are mingled, that the reader may make the sound he is practising clearly distinct from those with which it is in danger of being confounded. W. 7vay waft One Once who 7aoo 7ua.m vane vine 7mne hood wood wolf 7t!/omb wo ooze whose woos swoon szzite b/zoy q/zake chz/ir thwart 7^'oinan ze/olsey wooor ze/ormz^/ood forz^/ard froa/ard qzzorum qzzagmire czzirass. A-Z£/ight 7Z7ell-versed-in-zz/aggery. Give-me-free-air or-I-soon-shall-S7£/oon. He-7£/ooed-the-7e'oman but-she-ze/ould-not-7c/ed. 7 - jtawn jt’ell. he jye j/ean hear ear jrear jield _you U Use hUge nEW dUke tUne -j)/early _youthful jj/ew-tree Useful HUmour spanzel millzbngenzi pon/ard as/a nausea roseate Indian odious dUty tUEsday. Ee-are-stUd/ous-to-vit/ate. The-nEW-tUne sUIts-the-dUke. Eouth with-ill-HUmour is-od/ous. Last-jear I-could-not-hear with-either ear. ng. The consonant usually denoted by ng is a simple sound, quite distinct from the sound of either n ox g when alone. It consists in an utterance of the voice througii the nose, while the back part of the tongue gently touches the correspondent part of the palate. The common fault in sounding these letters is, pronouncing them as n Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION 333 alone. But in avoiding this fault, the learner must not run into the other, and articu- late the g, unless custom has assigned the g to the following syllable ; for then the g must be sounded, and the n in the foregoing syllable pronounced as iig. These cases will be known among the examples by the n alone being in italic. ^dLfig \iing spri;?^ su;^^ you;^^ le/z^th stre^^^th ba;zk si/^k co;/ch bel;^^ nothi;z^ writi;^^ readi;^^ si;2:^er hvinger ha/igbig hvbigwg robin robbi/z^ chopin choppi?/^ matin mattm^ a;^ger a/?guish co 7 /gress co/mourse a/2xious a;2chor ba/zquet distiz/guish extizzguish unthi/zking diphthoz/gal triph- thoz/gal azzxiety. Readizz^-and-writi;?^ are-arts-of-strikiz/^-importance ; dancing draw- izz^ and-smging beizz^-all-accomplishments are-deservizz^;f-of-less-regard. Alexander-at-a-bazzquet with-a-cozzcourse-of-flatterers overcome-by- azzger, led-by-a-cozzcubine, is-a-strozzg-example that-he-who-cozzquers-kizzg- doms may-have-neglected-the-more-noble-cozzquest-of-himself. and s. The consonants properly denoted by these letters are formed by touching the upper gum of the lower front teeth with the tip of the tongue, — using, for the former, an utterance of breath, which forces its way at the point, and produces a hissing ; and, for the latter, an utterance of voice, which forces its way in a similar manner, and produces a buzzing noise. It should be remembered that the letter s is always vocal when, in forming a plural, or the third person of a verb, it comes after a vocal sound. The other cases in which it is vocal are frequent j but they must be gathered from practice, aided by a pronouncing dictionary. S, gai- maj'i’ doj'e mace griefj- laughs months' verj-e dupex packj laX styX hoj'tj' fists ghoi'tj- .joil ceW j^rene psaim^ apj"i.y thedi- que.ftion tant pinzrers flacdd j-^reptre j^ (dtchen-dor.^ click-clicked. £'• ba^ ke^ egg g^g plague wague league rogue bro^z^e ^/<;ide ^?^ise ^ear ^ird gig gho^t guerdon ragged craggy gibbous ^mblet ^/^astly ^/^erkin. He-^ave-a-^z/inea and-he-^ot-a-^roat. I-cannot-di^ and-am-ashamed-to-be^. A-^iddy-^i^^li n^-^irl her-kinsfolks’-pl a^ ue Her-manners-vul^ar and-her-converse-va^//^. t. pat kite dus/ haf/ halt dream/ flir/ tight /augh/ /rash t/iyme t/iames yacht debt laced dancteak v^ms deign asla n( 7 tion ^zngel d^znger h^^sten ’pe mmd s 4 m p/nt isle buy eye height flies-‘ /-dyl Aland d^er chma vAcount buyer apply ally mankVnd cond^n defies repfied beg’uile Indict obfi'ge sat/ety hefiacal man/acal paradis/acal aphrodiszacal hypochondr/acal. 0 as in nt?ble or n^7te. no wo c^?pe de'me regue dre've best gress ckthe r^?ll klk gold kth shew sew beau oais goal foe dough ^ow e’val s^^journ ni^tion S(?ldier m(?lten e'lily Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 341 y(?^?man mt??/lder hautboy pror<7gue depd7se withh^?ld bureau encroaeh papery c^hobate p^^etry t^?wardly fr^wardly paulterer. 'll as in c^^bic or c^^be. cz/be tz/ne dzzke fng enzzzzgh fzzlminant c\\oe kser prt?ving b^'som sz^rely thr^»//^/^ly impr(?ve recn/it imbrz^(? canoe gamb(?ge. u as in full (shut). pz/11 bzAl full ^ut p^/ss pz/sh rz^th vfould could should w^lf w^'^'d foot soot h^?^7k look pzzlley bz/lly fzzller Fzzlham rzzthless pzzlpit bzztcher czzshion sz/gar czzckoo Wi?man W^?lsey. THE VOWEL SOUND DENOTED BY 01 OR OY (oPEN). ^?zl broil \>omt chzzn sh^»zzt th’ latelj^ sunda_y journdji^ plagoy apptto sola salva thorough furhugh sorrow harrow follow windao/ prafane romance abey procure advocate absalute crocadile opposite syllagism caherent damestic opinion tabacca occasion affensive afficial. bareau asurp fasee hamane stat/ze virt/ze resc/ze augzzry emzzlate masculine monument obdzzrate residzze avenzze. adly, followed by a consonant and final e mute. dedicate obsolete appetite telescape latitude. 344 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX, 11. — THE SHUT VOWELS UNACCENTED. a, husb^znd verb^^l combeait ^^bjure «dmit b^ 2 !ptise instently pen^zlty valkntly e. cobweb anthem siknt complex. bev/l pencd pup/1 urchzn latzn marnzzge carnzzge village courzzge furnace Wzzllzzce bisczzzt condz/zt lettzzce se’nnz^-^t servz'le doczle bodzce plaintzVe po^t linm helmet housewzfe box^s mus(?s prices captozn wassazl mountzzzn ioxieit ioreign beautzVs pitzVs marrzVs pitz^d marrzVd cowardzce benefzce juvenzle diastjj^le counterf^zt sover^z^n handkerchzVf dignitzVs falsitzVs obsequz^s noveltzVs. 0 . C(?mmand c<7nduce c<7mplete p^?stillion Ci7mbustion. u. hubbzzb cherzzb gamzzt surplzzs mammoth parrot blossom nation febn demt painful to himself and nearly as much so to his audience. No, I say emphatically, do not trust to the tenacity of your memory for retaining the ‘ivords of a previously well-prepared or carefully-written speech. My advice, therefore, would be briefly as follows : — Choose some fitting occasion, when a question is to be discussed at a public meeting in which you feel an interest. Turn the subject well over in your mind, and view it under all the various aspects in which it may be regarded, and then choose that which seems best adapted to your mode of treat- ment. Arrange; your ideas after you have well considered the subject, as far as you c^m, in a clear and logical order, and more especially let your arguments be duly linked together, so that the conclusions to which they lead may si^em to follow as a necessary consequence, and so make a strong impression on the audience you are about to address. This mental arranger^ient of ideas then commit in ouilme to paper — but do not write down more. Content yourself with a clear and simple outline 36 o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. of the subjects and the mode in which you propose they shall be treated* Endeavour to fix your thoughts firmly in your mind, and remember hmw much their proper sequence may be aided by carrying out the principde of the association of ideas as the most powerful of all the aids to memory- When you have thoughts^ that is, really soinethmg to say, it will not ibe long, even if your earliest attempts are comparative failures, before ypu will find the facility of clothing those thoughts in language becomes With every succeeding effort greater and greater. No doubt it is a mom^ent calculated to make any man feel nervous and embarrassed when hf- is called upon for the first time to address an audience in public. Bu;t if you will bear in mind the importance of occupying the first few momd-nts after you have risen on your legs, in placing yourself in the best easiest position for speaking ; then of calmly, deliberately, and thoroughly filling your lungs, and quietly survey your audience before you bea'i^^? you will be astonished to find how much these mere physical adjuncts will assist in giving mental composure and self-possession. I would always advise a novice in the art to begin by speaking/slowly and deliberately. As he goes on constructing his sentences, him divide them as much as possible into their proper clauses, betwe^Gi^ each clause take just such a quiet, easy, imperceptible inspiration will sufficiently replenish the lungs, and in the pauses between sucP clauses endeavour to clothe the next ideas in fitting words, and so /train the mind to be ever in advance of the tongue. Some of the /very best cxtempoi'e speakers I have ever listened to always begin their/ addresses very slowly and deliberately — so much so, indeed, that it mift^t be said to be actual hesitation which characterises their opening renJarks. But even this is scarcely of an unpleasing effect if the hesitation is between sentences or clauses, and not between the words which corppose them. Such speakers, as they enter more fully into their subject, warm to their work, become every moment more fluent, fervid, / impas- sioned; and this, too, you will find by practice will be tjf^ experience of yourselves. Calmness and deliberation at first will, in ensure increasing fluency of ideas and language as you proceed with your address. It is well remarked in a very rare and curpns old book (p. 123), entitled “The Art of Speaking,” translated fr^M the French work on the subject by the Messieurs du Port Royal, arp published in London in the year 1676, that “there is a rhetoric in th^ the lips, and the general motion of the whole body that impresses pnd persuades as much as arguments. ... We judge of an orator by dMi" as well as our ears. Every passion has its peculiar tone, its j^iculiar gesture, its peculiar mien, and as these are pleasing, powerful, expressive, or the reverse, so do they make a good or bad orator.” \ A regular address or speech is a work of art, and (Jtight to be con- structed artistically ; but still the motto “ ars celare epdem ” must be borne in mind. Though the construction be artificial, ih niust yet seem to be spontaneous and natural in its arrangement, from introductory remarks or exordium to its close or peroration. By mpst speakers the beginning of a speech is considered to be perhaps its mpst difficult part, and this got over at all in a satisfactory manner, thef themselves Lect. XXL] ON ELOCUTION 361 more at ease, and tolerably sure to be able to go on to a conclusion without fear of breaking down. A good introduction to a speech is not unfrequently “ half the battle,” and realises the truth of the old French proverb, n^est que le premier pas qiii coiiteP In general I may say the prefatory remarks of a speaker should be designed to awaken the attention of an audience, to conciliate their good-will, and elicit their interest in the subject you are about to discuss. A certain air of defer- ence to the audience whom you are about to address is by no means an unimportant element, especially with a young speaker, in securing their attention and sympathy. It is, in fact, the delicate but silent species of flattery to which public audiences readily yield themselves, and which, I have often noticed, contributes not a little to the good-will and attention shown to an untried or inexperienced speaker. You may then proceed to show how much there is in the question to awaken the interest of your hearers, and how much you yourself feel its importance ; and if there are any particular personal or local reasons which qualify you to form an opinion and express your views on the subject, they may be very properly mentioned or alluded to in your introductory remarks. The ground thus cleared, you are now prepared to enter upon the subject itself. Of course, every subject demands its own mode of treatment, and much, too, depends on the particular stand- point whence the speaker views it. But generally, I may say, endeavour to have in your own mind a clear and definite conclusion to wliich you desire also to bring the minds of your audience ; and mentally arrange, and at first commit to paper, the head-notes of the chain of arguments or reasons by which you propose arriving at such conclusions. Though your chain of reasoning ought to be strictly logical, yet to a miscellaneous popular audience I should not recommend that the logical formula be made too obtrusive. Your aim in almost all public addresses is to persuade or convince. A mere dry, formal argument alone, however sound or logical, seldom affords entire satisfaction to a popular assembly. A speech requires variety in its progress, and, as far as the nature of the subject will permit, statement should be intermingled with argument, humour with gravity, pathos with gaiety, anecdote and illustration with wit and eloquence. If any scene is described to your audience, en- deavour to form a vivid mental picture of it, and as you see it in your “ mind’s eye ” so narrate it with appropriate action to your audience, especially remembering the service which refereiitial gesture, as it is termed, lends upon all such occasions. Of course the introduction of invective, sarcasm, passionate appeal, rhetorical figures and metaphors, must depend much on the nature of the subject, the character of the audience, and the individual temperament of the speaker. Great caution should be exercised in their employment, for if inappropriate they only serve to make a speaker ridiculous. Eschew, too, all that multiplication of sounding epithets, useless synonyms, strings of adjectives and adverbs and many-syllabled nouns, which “our American cousins” sum up in the phrase, “ tall talkmgP Cultivate as much as possible purity and simplicity of language, which will be found to be really the most 362 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XXI. beautiful as well as the most effective in attaining the result aimed at ; and as a general rule, for your own sake and also that of your hearers, avoid all long, cumbrous, and involved sentences. Perspicuity is one of the greatest charms of a speech. The meaning of the speaker should be as visible to the audience whom he is addressing, as the landscape without is apparent through the clear polished glass of the window to the spectator who is viewing it from within ; and everything in a public address, if it is desired to be effective, should be sacrificed rather than perspicuity. The peroration, or closing words of a speech., ought, if possible, always to be its most powerful and impressive part. Many of our best orators in the Pulpit, the Senate, and at the Bar, have not scrupled to leave on record that they have written and rewritten the perorations to their most celebrated or most important speeches, until they had as far as possible satisfied their minds with them, and then as diligently and carefully committed them to memory, as a great actor would who was desirous of making a powerful impression in the chief character of some tragedy. In fact, such memorable perorations (the late Lord Brougham’s, for instance, in his famous speech on behalf of Queen Caroline) have been acted. If there is any part of a regular set speech that it is desirable to write out, it is certainly this ; and high authority, moreover, sanctions the practice on great occasions. The peroration (to use a homely metaphor) should be the driving to the hilt of the various weapons you have used in the course of your career. It should not be merely a general summary of the argument, but the directing it, sending it home to the minds and hearts of your audience by vivid language and, when fitting, impassioned appeals to the sentiments, feelings, and emotions of your hearers, so as in the most powerful manner to persuade or convince them of the truth or importance of the conclusions to which you have arrived. As soon as this end seems to you to be attained — and to judge of the time rightly is a most valuable gift — close your speech and sit down. To know when the time for the peroration has arrived, and when to end it and sit down, contributes in no small degree to a speaker’s success. LECTURE XXII. The subject of Public Speaking and Reading considered in detail, and in reference especially to the various Professions where it is more particularly required — The Clergyman — The Church Services — Tlie Art of Preaching — Construction of a Sermon — Thoughts — Sources of Information — Four principal modes of Sermon Construction — The Narrative — The Textual — The Logical — The Divisional — The Delivery of a Sermon — Delivery as important in its Immediate Effects as Com- position — Styles of Preaching in other Countries — Suggestions in reference to the Delivery of Sermons — Proper use of Gesture in the Pulpit. AVING now briefly treated of the art of making public addresses in general, I propose in these, my concluding Lectures of our introductory course, viewing the subject more in detail, and inquiring a little into the various requisites which are most demanded and called into action in pro- fessional and public life. As first in importance to his fellow-creatures, I take the ministerial public duties of the clergyman. In all that relates to the proper reading of the Liturgy and other Services of the Church of England, I know no better work, none in fact more practically useful in every way to the young clergyman or theological student, than the last and enlarged edition of that entitled “ Instruction in Reading the Liturgy, by the late Rev. John Henry Hewlett, formerly Chaplain of Her Majesty’s Chapel, Whitehall, of which I have already made mention in tny previous Lecture. I heartily commend the whole work to the careful attention of all persons who appreciate the innate beauty of our Church Services, and are desirous that that beauty should be made apparent to others, but more especially do I commend it to young clergymen and candidates for Holy Orders. I had the advantage of enjoying the friendship of the late Mr. Howlett for many years, and derived many valuable hints in my vocation from his suggestions and experience. There is so much practical good sense in his introductory remarks, and he points out so ably the principal faults in the manner of reading our Liturgy, and the reason why such faults should be avoided and corrected, that I am sure I am doing a service to many persons in giving the substance of Mr. Howlett’s observations. In effect he says : — “ The members of the Church of England justly boast of their Liturgy, and affirm that no Service has a greater tendency to answer the purposes of Public Worship. It is, however, certain that this tendency is very much strengthened by means of a good delivery. But that our admir- 3^4 /iJNG’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. able Ritual is not thus enforced so frequently as it ought to be, is a com- plaint which has been long heard even among the sincere and zealous friends of the Established Church, and which has now been brought prominently into public notice. It may therefore be useful, especially to the candidates for the sacred office, to enumerate the faults which most commonly prevail, to mention the causes to which those defects may be reasonably ascribed, and to suggest some means of removing them. The student, thus instructed, may be induced to pay more atten- tion to the proper manner of officiating ; so that he may individually vindicate the profession from reproach, and, through the Divine blessing, may, by his ministering, powerfully support the cause of true religion. “But here an objection will be urged by the advocates for vitonmg the Service. They contend that the word ‘say,’ used in the Rubric, means ‘intone.’ They also state that a large portion of the Service is devotional, and that a plaintive monotone is best suited for expressing prayer. Undoubtedly a mournful modulation is very agreeable to many auditors ; still, a constant monotony is apt to become wearisome and soporific ; and when accompanied, as it very frequently is, by a rapid, indistinct utterance, the reader is unintelligible to the distant portion of the congregation. But though much of the Service is devotional, i.e.^ expressing prayer to the Supreme Being, yet many other parts are of a different character. First come the Introductory Sentences^ which are mostly declaratory, and, according to the Rubric, are to be ‘read in a loud voice.’ The Exhortation is to be ‘said,’ but the character of it is such as to be much less suited to mournful monotone than to plain reading, varied according to the sense, or rather to an extemporaneous way of speaking. In the General Confession, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Creeds —those parts of the Services in which the congregation is directed to accompany or follow the Minister, it is better for both parties to pro- nounce in unison, so as to avoid that confused and discordant gabble which is frequently heard. The Absolution is to be ‘pronounced.’ The nature of the subject seems to require, not melancholy intoning, but a solemn, dignified delivery. The practice of reading, instead of chant- ing the Psalter, has been adopted in many Churches during the last two hundred years, probably under the authority of the ‘ Order ’ inserted in tbe ‘ Preface to the Prayer-Book.’ That ‘ Order ’ seems to have been intended for the direction of ‘ places where they (do not) sing.’ The ‘ people ’ hurry and gabble through the alternate verses, allotted to them by custom, and the effect is neither solemn nor devotional. In some Churches, however, the congregation agree to read in a measured and simultaneous manner. All admit that the Lessons, Epistles, and Gospels are directed to be ‘read with an audible voice.’ The Ten Command- ments are to be ‘rehearsed.’ This must surely mean a dignified, authori- tative style of reading, rather than melancholy intoning. But as the Prayers and Collects are to be ‘ said by the Minister alone,’ certainly that mode of delivery will be best which makes the deepest impression on the understanding and hearts of the hearers. Least of all is there any sufficient reason for ‘intoning’ the Grace, or the Lord’s Prayer before the Sermon, or the concluding Blessing. Lect. XXI I. ] ON ELOCUTION. 365 “ As it much easier to intojie the Service tolerably than to read it tolerably, many young clergymen attempt to intone. The result fre- quently is a great deal of harsh, dissonant sound, very annoying to those among the congregation who are gifted with musical ears. It should be remembered that intoning is an accomplishment which, like readmg^ is not generally to be acquired without instruction and practice. “Another objection requires to be noticed. It is asserted by some persons that to read the Prayers of the Liturgy in the manner best cal- culated to convey the meaning and keep up the attention of the con- gregation, is preaching the Prayers. They say that the Minister is the mouthpiece of the congregation, and that the mere utterance of the words is sufficient, because Almighty God does not need to have their meaning enforced by the variety of manner- and intonation which is adopted when a petition is addressed to a fellow-mortal. This is true, but it is equally true that unless the congregation accompany the Minister’s words with their hearts and minds, they do not render acceptable ser- vice. It is universally admitted that the constant repetition of the same form of words naturally produces inattention in the hearers. This will be increased by a monotonous, unmeaning delivery ; whilst, on the contrary, a significant manner, varying according to the sentiment, is found to rouse the drowsy hearer, and to excite him to real and fervent devotion. “These remarks may suffice to obviate some objections which may be urged against the present work. In proceeding to enumerate some of the causes which produce an inefficient manner of performing the Church Service, may first be mentioned the incorrect notion which many clergymen entertain on the subject of public reading. They conceive that as everybody can read, it is not necessary to take previous care to qualify themselves for the effective discharge of this part of their official duties. They themselves may perfectly understand what they read; but they are little aware that to make the congregation, especially if it is numerous, hear and understand, is a task of considerable diffi- culty. Distinct and impressive reading is an accomplishment not usually attained without subm'itting to the methods by which superiority is commonly acquired in any of the arts and sciences. It is true, indeed, that some persons are better gifted than others for acquiring excellence ; and with regard to reading, some naturally possess so much ease of utterance, so musical a voice, so correct an ear, that it seems as if they could not avoid reading well. But, allowing a few exceptions, it is certain that, in general, instruction, study, and practice are requisite for the acquisition of a discriminating and impressive delivery. It is likewise important to be remembered that this acquirement can gene- rally be attained only in the early part of life, when the ear is quick in perceiving, and the voice is capable of adopting, any suggested variation of tone. “ 2. — A second erroneous opinion frequently prevails, that seriousness and piety are alone wanted , and that if a clergyman is earnest in the discharge of his duty, he cannot fail being an impressive reader of the Church Service. A serious and solemn manner is certainly indispens- 366 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. able, but when it is applied with little meaning and with no variation of manner to a Service so varied in its subjects, the congregation may be fully convinced of the piety of the Minister, but the monotonous solem- nity of voice will inevitably prevent emotion and produce drowsiness. And even if this heaviness of manner be avoided, still it sometimes happens that either through defect of early instruction, or entire inatten- tion to the subject, a clergyman, though possessing undoubted piety and considerable talents, may have acquired, in his mode of reading the Service, such a peculiarity as not unfrequently causes painful regret in the minds of the serious and devout hearers. “ 3. — The fear of being thought affected or theatrical must be men- tioned as a third cause which tends to produce inefficient readers. But though everything that savours of affectation is highly disgusting, still the dull and feeble, or the hurried and irreverent, manner is not less injurious in its effects on the congregation. If in the one case they are displeased with the Minister, in the other they become wearied with the Service. “4. — A fourth cause why an indifferent manner of reading is preva- lent in the Church may be found in the difficulty of retaining a good manner. To repeat the same words over and over again without insen- sibly falling into some improprieties, without acquiring peculiar tones and inflections, which either convey no meaning at all, or a wrong mean- ing, requires constant and close attention. Hence it happens that those parts of the Service are generally recited best which occur least fre- quently ; hence the Lessons are commonly better read, and the Lord’s Prayer worse read, more hurriedly and less reverently than any other part. Some defects arising from the same cause may also be fre- quently observed in the delivery of the Grace ‘ and the final Blessing.* Hence also the number of preachers possessing a good delivery is found to be much greater than that of good and impressive readers. Indeed, such is the effect of frequently repeating the same words, that the best readers need the utmost watchfulness, lest in the course of years they fall into strange peculiarities and improprieties ; and happy is the man who has friends possessing the kindness, as w^ell as the judgment, to point out these defects as they arise. Archbishop Whately justly observes (in his ‘Rhetoric,’ p. 310): ‘The difficulty of reading the Liturgy with spirit, and even with propriety, is something peculiar, on account of the inveterate and long-established faults to which almost every one’s ears become familiar, so that such a delivery as would shock any one of moderate taste in any other composition, he will in this be likely to tolerate and even to practise.’ “ 5. — A fifth and a very usual defect in the reading of young clergy- men is rapidity and, its natural consequence, indistinctness. It is a mis- take to suppose that the smooth but quick delivery which is very audible and very agreeable in a room of common size, can with propriety be adopted in reading the Service in a church which is of considerable dimensions, and is often very badly constructed for public speaking. Louder tones are in such places absolutely necessary ; to maintain which, a more thorough respiration is required ; and to render the words Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 367 audible at a distance, a slower enunciation must be adopted. Indeed, universal experience teaches that it is not those whose voices are the loudest that are best understood by distant hearers, but those whose utterance is deliberate, distinct, and equable. Besides, it must be remenv bered that a rapid delivery is incompatible with the solemnity of prayer, and therefore is wholly unsuited to the character of Public Worship. But whilst endeavouring to avoid the defect of rapidity, the student must not think that he has attained his object merely by introducing very long pauses at the end of every sentence. He must be reminded that each sentence requires pauses of different lengths in various parts of it, besides the principal at the conclusion, and that the length of those pauses must be proportioned to the general rate of utterance. “ 6. — Some readers also, through their desire to avoid the faults of rapidity and indistinctness, fall into a drawling and whining manner — a defect to which the most zealous and most serious seem to be parti- cularly exposed, and which makes the congregation inattentive and drowsy. “ 7. — Others adopt a stately and pompous style. Its impropriety may not be striking when employed in reading the sublime language of the Prophets ; but it will be felt to be utterly unsuitable in delivering the greater part of the Service, particularly in repeating the Confession that v/e are ‘ miserable sinners,’ in uttering supplications for mercy to penitent offenders, as well as in reciting the plain narratives of the Holy Scriptures. In fact, it is highly important to remember that one manner will not suit all parts of the Service. This remark naturally leads to the notice of another defect. “ 8. — Among young readers (perhaps among many readers and preachers at every period of life) is the common defect of droppmg the voice so much at the end of every sentence as to become inaudible even by those of the congregation who are near, or who are slightly deaf. This error often arises from a misinterpretation of the common rule in reading, which directs that at the end of most sentences the voice should be lowered. Lowered it may be as to the place on the musical scale in relation to the note with which the sentence began, but not always lowered in point of loudness and force. The last words are often the most important of all ; and instead of being uttered in an undertone and feeble manner, require the greatest distinctness, and sometimes energy. Observe the mode of managing the voice which nature dictates in private or public discussions — the loudest and firmest tones will often be heard in pronouncing the concluding words. The defect in question frequently arises likewise from neglecting to introduce sufficient pauses between the parts of a sentence, in consequence of an erroneous notion that one inspiration must suffice for one sentence. Such readers draw in a full breath, commence in a loud vigorous tone, run on at a rapid rate, attending very little to punctuation, however correct, and utterly regardless of introducing additional pauses which may add clearness and strength to the meaning ; thus they proceed with tones becoming weaker and weaker, till the breath is exhausted, and the sentence ends wholly inaudible by most of the congregation. One method of remedying this KING 'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXI L 368 defect, especially in the delivery of long sentences, is to search out a fit place for pausing and inhalation somewhere within a short distance of the end of the sentence. Recruited by a fresh supply of breath, the reader is enabled to conclude with distinctness and suitable force ; and not only so, but he will find he can effect it with much less fatigue to himself. In connection with this part of the subject, both readers and preachers should remember the old rule : — ‘Take care of the end of the sentence : the beginning will take care of itself.’ Some Preachers are in the habit of suddenly lowering the voice for the purpose of rendering the importance of some concluding remark more deeply felt. Let them be warned against the consequence which frequently follows — viz., be- coming inaudible except to the nearest listeners. “ 9. — In endeavouring to avoid the faults of concluding sentences inaudibly, some readers fall into an opposite error. They terminate almost every sentence with the iipward slide of the voice, that which suggests the idea that the sentence is incomplete, and leads to the expectation that more must be added to complete it. This method may make the final words better heard, but it does not effect this object without injury to the sense. A careful observation of the usual mode adopted in ordinary conversation certainly confirms the correctness of the general rule, that a declarative sentence terminates with the downward inflection. “ The defect last mentioned is often accompanied by a peculiar jerk of the voice, somewhat resembling what writers on elocution denominate the rising circumflex^ composed of the downward and rising inflection. ' It is used more especially when there is a wish to conclude with force and animation, though there may not be any intention of conveying an idea that antithesis is either expressed or implied. This peculiarity is very prevalent among the higher classes of society. Supposing, for instance, the following sentence were to be delivered in concluding a speech in Parliament : — ‘ In short, I have no hesitation in saying that the prosperity of the nation is closely connected with the present mea- sure.’ To communicate some degree of energy to the passage, many of the speakers would pronounce the last word with a peculiar upward twist of the voice and a solemn declamatory tone — ‘ with the present measure ; ’ whereas, in the ordinary mode of delivery, the simple down- ward inflection would be given to the word ‘measure.’ The same ter- minational jerk is adopted by some eminent Preachers. Many hearers may admire it, but the majority consider it a blemish, and it might be easily corrected by attending to the fundamental principle above mentioned in regard to the falling inflection. “ 10. — The unvaried manner is a fault which may sometimes be ob- served in the delivery of those who are generally considered to be good readers. Their demeanour may be solemn and devout ; their articula- tion clear and distinct; their general style easy and unaffected; but still they are dull and unimpressive, and consequently the hearers be- come drowsy and inattentive. This arises from want of variety. The humble supplications of the Litany, the ardent adoration of the Te Deum, the solemn injunctions of the Decalogue, the sublime prophecies Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 369 of the Old Testament, the simple, unadorned narratives of the New — all are delivered in one unvaried manner. Many Clergymen, doubtless, adopt this uniformity upon principle, conceiving that the style of read- ing which accommodates itself to the subject, and which they would consider proper on all other occasions, is to be excluded from the Church, as unsuited to the solemnity of the place and the dignity of the sacred office. But it appears wholly inexplicable why that mode of delivery which is found on all other occasions to convey the meaning with perspicuity, and to affect the minds of the hearers in the most powerful manner, should be banished from the Church, where to excite the feelings is of the highest importance. Variety of subject forms an admirable characteristic of our Liturgy ; and that it requires a corre- sponding variety in the reading of the Minister, appears to be most agreeable to the dictates of common sense. This opinion is confirmed by the fact that those readers are found to be most successful in keeping up the attention, and exciting serious and devotional feelings, who can best adapt the manner to the sentiment. To attain this art a happy combination must concur of a clear head, a feeling heart, and a con- siderable flexibility of voice. The hest general rule is to study previously the sentiments which are to be delivered, so as fully to understand their true meaning, and then endeavour to suit the manner of delivery to the matter, and occasionally to the character of the person whose words are recited. A disregard of this latter particular is often very offensive. What can be more so than to hear the language of the meek and lowly Jesus delivered in a stern, pompous, authoritative tone ? ‘ In our Blessed Lord’s discourses and instructions,’ says Paley, ‘all was calmness. No emotions, no violence, no agitation, when He delivered the most sub- lime, affecting doctrines, and most comfortable or most terrifying predic- tions. The Prophets before Him fainted and sunk under the communi- cations which they received from above ; so strong was their impression, so unequal was their strength ; but truths that overwhelmed the servafits of God were familiar to His Sonl (Paley’s Sermons, edited by E. Paley, vol. ii. p. 34.) The striking peculiarity in our Lord’s discourses and instructions should be carefully remembered by the Minister when he reads them to his flock. Everything that savours of pomposity or haughtiness of manner should be studiously avoided. Such a style is indeed unsuited to every part of the Service, but it is more especially displeasing when adopted in reciting the words of our Heavenly Master. The manner on such occasions should be particularly mild, tranquil, and dignified. “ II. But in studying to suit the manner to the sentiment, there is a danger of being theatrical^ of becoming either vehement and impas- sioned, or colloquial and familiar. In reading a Scriptural narrative, in which sometimes a dramatic form is maintained, some of the Clergy adopt a striking difference of voice to suit the respective characters, and become actors rather than readers; but it is to be remembered that reading^ not acting ; it may partake of some of its expression, but is more subdued. The great difficulty is to know where to draw the line between a sober, chastened adaptation of manner to subject, 2 A 370 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. and animated dramatic recitation. Here discretion and right feeling alone can guide. “i2. — The student must also be warned against another common fault. Wishing to read feelingly and impressively, some persons will emphasise too much. The matchless simplicity of Scripture is frequently overlaid by too great an anxiety to give weight and dignity. Whilst intending to be very impressive, the injudicious reader often produces a contrary effect. By elaborately taking too much pains, he fails in the very object proposed. “ To the Clergyman who has been engaged a few years in his sacred office, it may appear unnecessary to look over the Lessons which he is about to read in the Church. But though he may have a general recol- lection of their contents, and may be perfectly aware of what general manner will be best suited to the subject, still it frequently happens that a preparatory reading will recall the full meaning of many passages, which cannot be clearly conveyed to the hearers without considerable skill in the reader, and it will indeed sometimes suggest ideas which never occurred to him before. When such passages present themselves unexpectedly, even the best readers often inadequately express the sen- timent, and feel regret at having omitted a previous examination. The student will find himself much assisted by marking in his own Prayer- Book and Bible with the requisite inflections and notations such parts in the Epistles, Gospels, and Lessons as require more than common care in the reading. A single inspection of those marked passages at any subsequent period will be sufficient to recall the whole to his recgl- lection. Let him not, however, content himself with merely perusing the above-mentioned parts of the Service ; but let him adopt the rule of always reading them aloud in private before he delivers them in the Church. He that is new to the profession should extend this previous study and practice to all parts of the Service. By study he will acquire notions of the general manner of delivery which is best suited to the respective portions, and of the particular manner of reading by which the true meaning of particular passages may be rendered most clear and impressive ; and by recitation in private he will fix right habits so firmly as to be able to retain them with ease to himself, notwithstanding the tremor and nervous feeling which usually attend the novice in the discharge of public duties. “ In the student’s endeavour to acquire a delivery suited to the sub- ject, he will be much aided by adopting the plan recommended by Mr. Sheridan, father of the celebrated orator and dramatist, of deliver- ing the Service from memory. This method will be attended with some difficulty at first, as they who have always been accustomed to the assistance of the book may lose their presence of mind when deprived of that aid, and not be able to repeat even what is perfectly rooted in the memory, like persons accustomed to swim with the help of corks, who would immediately sink if they were deprived of them. Nay, I have known some Clergymen so exceedingly timid in this respect, that they never could venture to deliver even the Lord’s Prayer before the sermon without having it written down. The way to get the better of Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 371 such apprehension will be to practise it first in private family duties; and when they find they can perform it without difficulty they will be emboldened gradually to do the same in public worship also. But for their further security they may, for some time (perhaps constantly, to prevent accidents), turn over the leaves of the Service as they advance, to have the passage before them which they are reciting, to which they may have recourse in case they should at any time find themselves at a loss.' Every Clergyman will upon trial find that this change of mode will not only produce excellent effect on the congregation, but will be the source of a perpetual fund of satisfaction to himself. For as nothing can be more irksome than the drudgery and weariness arising from going over continually one and the same settled service, in the usual ■cold and mechanical way, so nothing can cause greater inward satis- faction than praying from the heart, as all must have felt who pray earnestly in their private devotions.” (Every one who has adopted the plan here suggested will have been sensible of its great advantages, and wall most heartily concur in acknowledging the truth of the writer’s concluding remarks.) “ Having thus cautioned the student against various defects, and suggested to him various remedies, he may naturally ask by what means he may discover the defects observable in his own mode of reading. The task of discovery is indeed difficult, but not insuperable, provided it be undertaken with a real desire for improvement. If a professed teacher of elocution, one of acknowledged eminence in his nrt, is within reach, his opinion may be immediately obtained as to the ■existence of gross defects, as well as his aid in conquering them. Nor Avill a Clergyman who is earnest in his attempts at improvement allow a false and foolish pride to prevent him from seeking such aid. It has been eagerly sought at the commencement of their pastoral labours by many pious and eminent divines, who have thereby acquired a skill in the management of the voice, a distinctness, and grace, and force of delivery, which have greatly contributed to extend the usefulness of their ministry. If professional instruction cannot be obtained, still the young Clergyman may ascertain some facts for himself. He may easily discover whether his congregation consider his delivery too slow or too fast, too loud or too low ; whether in every part of the Service he is audible by all ; whether the aged in particular can hear the Lessons. But whether or not he is free from the other defects which have been enumerated, such as a pompous, theatrical, dull, or laboured manner, it will not be so easy to ascertain the general opinion, as these are matters of taste respecting which the judgments of his hearers will vary. Besides, few would choose to express their sentiments to the individual himself on these delicate points. Here the assistance of a judicious friend may be extremely useful. Nor will it be so difficult as may be imagined to find those who are competent to give a just opinion. For it is in reading as in other arts : a man may be a tolerably good judge of reading, though a very indifferent reader himself ; he may be able to give a very correct opinion respecting the style of others, as well as the effect likely to be produced on the generality of hearers. 372 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XX IL “ For the student’s encouragement it must be added that if he dili- gently strive to improve his reading, he may be assured that improve- ment will follow. With regard even to those natural impediments which are sometimes pleaded in excuse of an inefficient delivery of the Divine Service (such as an indifferent voice, an inarticulate utterance, an imperfect pronunciation of certain letters, &c.), the late Bishop Blomfield, distinguished both as a reader and a preacher, justly remarked that ‘ no one can tell how much may be done in the way of improvement till he has tried all the various aids of advice, and practice, and careful study, with prayer for the assistance of God’s Holy Spirit’ It is readily admitted that rules cannot make a finished reader : to produce such a character there must be a rare combination of talent, feeling, and physical powers. But moderate capabilities are the average lot ; and these, through the wise constitution of our nature, are in early life always improvable. It may, therefore, be affirmed with truth that to become a tolerably good reader, capable of delivering the Service in a solemn, earnest, and impressive manner, is placed within the power of every young Clergyman.” Now I think it cannot be denied that there is much truth in the foregoing remarks of Mr. Howlett, and there can scarcely be a reader to whom these remarks are addressed who cannot, in the course of his experience in the attendance of public worship, have met with instances of the various faulty styles adopted by his clerical brethren, of which Mr. Howlett so justly complains. For the correction of such styles I cannot do better than once more recommend Mr. Howlett’s admirable work “ On Reading the Liturgy ” to the attention of all clergymen and theological students. But as regards the sermon, alike in reference to its construction and delivery, a volume might be well written. To treat the subject at any great length, the limits to which I am confined necessarily forbid. Some extremely useful suggestions will be found in the well-known works of the Rev. Daniel Moore, the Abbe Bautain, and others ; but one of the most useful and the most recent with which I am acquainted is an American work by the Rev. William Pettinger, entitled “ Oratory, Sacred and Secular.”* All that I can pretend to do is to offer a few hints gathered from various sources. And first I feel assured that in the construction of sermons, as in all other discourses to be addressed to a public audience, the primary and most important step, after having carefully selected a subject, is calmly, deliberately, and maturely to think it over and revolve it in the mind in all the various aspects under which it may be presented. Thoughts beget thoughts ; but you will find that ideas cannot be always retained^ equally in view. Let each one be secured as it arises, and noted at the time. After the subject has been thought over for a sufficient length of time, write down all the ideas that have occurred to you as bearing on it, taking but little care for the order of arrangement, but only just putting such a word or brief sentence as will suffice to recall * Wells, Broadway, New York ; and Triibner, Paternoster Row, London. I.ECT. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION, 373 the idea that is designed to be hereafter more fully expanded. After every thought that has thus occurred to you has been thus secured and rendered permanent, the sketch containing these head-notes may for the time be put aside, and the whole left to be dwelt on at leisure by the mind. If other ideas subsequently arise, let them be recorded in the same manner, and so continue the process, so long as fresh thoughts or illustrations come before your mental view. You will find in the interesting diary and note-book of the popular American author, the late Nathaniel Hawthorne, many instances of this valuable noting down of thoughts, which were afterwards amply and beautifully worked out. Those who have not tried this simple and natural process, will be astonished to find how many ideas will arise even on what is apparently the most ordinary subject, as they maturely revolve it in their minds. Time and deliberation will, ere long, give mental tangible form and substance even to what appeared at first vague and indefinite. The mind, then, having thus evolved all that it can from the accumulated stores of memory and reflection, it will be well, then, to see if new facts can be obtained that will in any degree throw fuller light on, or serve to further illustrate, the subject. For this purpose you will, of course, seek the best channels of information that are open to you, such as the works of those authors who have written on the subject you are proposing to discuss, the conversation of persons who are well acquainted with it, and other kindred means of acquiring ampler stores of knowledge. When you have thus got on paper all the notes you think necessary, your next task will be to arrange the whole in proper order and harmony on another sheet of paper, retaining what appears to you to be proper and serviceable, and rejecting all superfluous or useless matter. On the plan upon which a discourse is constructed no doubt much of its success depends. In some cases this is comparatively an easy task, and in others a very difficult one, according to the nature and character of the question to be discussed. Upon this part of our subject, viz., the various plans upon which sermons may be constructed, the American divine I have named (Mr. Pettinger) offers some useful suggestions. He says examination will show that almost all sermons are constructed on one of four plans. wFich may be thus denominated and described. First, the narrative method. This is principally used when some Scripture narrative forms the basis of the sermon. In it the different parts of the plan are arranged according to the order of time, except when some particular reason, borrowed from the other methods, inter- venes. When there are few or none of these portions which give it a •composite character, the development proceeds with all the simplicity of a story. Many beautiful sermons have been thus constructed. A second method is the textual. Each part of the sermon rests on some of the words or clauses of the text, and these suggest the order of its unfolding, although they may be changed to make it correspond more nearly to the narrative or the logical methods. This kind of plan has an obvious advantage in assisting the memory by suggesting each part at the proper time. 374 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XX IL The third method is the logical, which may be thus described. A topic is taken, and without reference to the order of time or the words of the text, is unfolded as a proposition in geometry is demonstrated, each thought being preliminary to that which follows, and the whole ending in the demonstration of some great truth, and the deduction of its legitimate corollaries. This method is exceedingly valuable in many cases, if not pressed too far, or carried beyond due limits. The fourth and last method, and the one employed more frequently than all the others, is the divisional. It is the analytic system, and by it the whole sermon is governed and organised. All the detached items are brought into related groups, each governed by a principal thought, and these again are held in strict subordination to the supreme idea ; so that the entire discourse resembles a tree, with its single trunk, its branches subdivided into smaller ones, and all covered with a beautiful robe of leaves, that rounds its form into graceful outlines, even as the flow of words harmonises our prepared thoughts into the unity of a living discourse. A subject will many times arrange itself almost as it were spontane- ously into several different parts, which thus form the proper divisions, and these, again, may be easily analysed into their appropriate sub- divisions. Even when this is not the case, we shall see, as we examine our jottings, that a few of the ideas stand out in especial prominence, and with a little close study of relations and affinities, all the others may be made to group themselves around these. The individual idea which we put down on the first study of the subject, usually form the subdivisions, and some generalisation of them, the divisions. It is advisable, if possible, not to make the branches of a subject toe numerous, or they will tend to introduce confusion, and fail to be remembered. From two to four divisions, with two or three subdivisions under each, are, in the majority of cases, better than a larger number. It is not always advisable to present formally the divisions and sub- divisions of a sermon when preaching it. A congregation in general does not much care how a sermon has been actually constructed, pro- vided it comes to them warm, fervent, and full of life and earnestness. Indeed, to give the plan of a sermon to a congregation before the sermon itself, seems contrary to the analogy of Nature, who in fullest health conceals the skeleton under the rounded and graceful form of life. If it should be urged that this laborious preparation, this careful and orderly marshalling of every thought in order to ensure success in extempore preaching, requires as much time as to write the sermon out at full length, the answer is that it may do so at first, but it will be found to be a most excellent and profitable mental discipline, which will grow easier with continual practice, until the preparation of two or three sermons a week will not be felt at all as a burden. If the preacher should be one who always delivers a written discourse from the pulpit, it will be easy enough for him to elaborate a sermon at length from the outline plan which he has sketched out ; but if he aims at that which is certainly the most effective of all, when well carried out and properly delivered, viz., an extempo7'e discourse, his next step Lect. XXIL] ON ELOCUTION, 375 will be to commit the plan to memory, and it is well to do so some con- siderable time before entering the pulpit, for there is then less liability of forgetting some portion of it, and it takes a more full and complete possession of the mind. If this method of committing the whole plan to memory be adopted, it will be found to enable the mind to take a clearer and more comprehensive view of the whole subject, and if the plan be properly constructed, the mind is then in the best possible condition for giving expression to its thoughts in language. The object is fixed in the soul, and will inspire it with earnestness and zeal, and this is just what is wanted in all true preaching. The mind, warmed by the full contemplation of the object, penetrates every part of the theme, investing it with an interest that must awaken attention, and so all the power of which the preacher is possessed, is brought to bear fully and directly on his hearers. I think it is well, until long practice has made it a perfectly easy and familiar task, that all extempore preachers or speakers should have their notes with them at the time of delivering their discourses, lest such an untoward accident should happen as that related by the Abbe Bautain, which once befell him in the early part of his career, when, having to preach before the French king and court, he found, on entering the pulpit, he had alike forgotten text, subject, and plan. From these necessarily brief and general suggestions for the con- struction of a sermon, I pass on now to say a few words as regards its delivery. In one respect the position of the preacher is unique. He comes accredited with a higher authority than any other, an authority not his own, and he may say from his pulpit what he likes without fear of interruption, or, at all events at the time, any fear of reply, however weak his argument or unsatisfactory his conclusion. In general, too, he has a right to assume that his audience is favourable to him, and that his views are substantially the same as theirs, and that he will be listened to patiently to the end of his discourse. What are the themes on which he enlarges ? The highest, noblest, and most solemn of all, to which all the usual topics dwelt upon in other public addresses sink into comparative insignificance. No subjects surely can be said to approach his^in sublimity and importance, for his topics carry the soul beyond the interests of earth to heaven, beyond time to eternity. Argument, persuasion, warning, appeal, statement, descrip- tion, all these powerful weapons of the orator are his to wield at pleasure, and if he be able to realise the divine nature of his mission, beneath all overlying accessories, he has the inner consciousness that no themes can approach his in importance to mankind, for they deal with the immortal soul and all that links it with its Creator. Might it not well be imagined that such a position and such subjects of discourse, would, of all others, be the most favourable to elicit the highest manifestations of earnestness and zeal of the deepest feeling and emotion ? And yet practically, what is the result ? A recent writer, alluding to the delivery of sermons, says in language — which, I fear, cannot be called greatly exaggerated — that the discourses too generally 376 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. heard from our pulpits in town and country are “prosy, inartistic, unattractive to mind or ear, drawling and slumberous, droning out dreary platitudes in dullest language, unenlivened by a flash of eloquence or a spark of true poetry. To listen to them is an effort, and the result of the effort is pain — pain to the intellect which is unrewarded — pain to the taste which is offended — pain to the ear which is wearied. Added to these is a certain sense of annoyance at a noble opportunity lost, and the involuntary comparison of what that discourse might and should have been, with what it is.” This language may perhaps seem rather overcharged, but I think most persons will admit there is some substantial foundation for it. The preacher’s two great aims in almost all sermons are to convince and to persuade ; and what is the most frequent hindrance to these aims being accomplished ? Is it not, more than anything else, the want of \ good delivery ? And can we wonder that a good delivery is so rare {vhen so many men enter holy orders without any preparation what- ever for the art of reading aloud or preaching ? I confess it seems to me almost as reasonable to send a soldier into the field of battle wholly unskilled in the use of his sword or rifle, as to send a young man into the pulpit to preach a sermon wholly untrained, theoretically or practi- cally, in the art of public reading and speaking. There is an old story, doubtless familiar to most of us, for it has been current for the last century, that a certain bishop once asked Betterton, the great actor, how it was that audiences were so deeply moved by his performances on the stage, while congregations listened apparently unmoved to discourses on the most solemn and important subjects from the pulpit ? and the tragedian, it is said, answered, “ I can only suppose, my lord, that it is because fictions on the stage are so delivered as to seem for the time realities, while the most vital of all realities are so delivered from the pulpit, as to see7n littie more than fiction.” I fear it will be said that the anecdote is but too generally as applicable now as then. However good in matter a preacher’s sermon may be, it will be comparatively wasted unless the attention of a con- gregation can be awakened and kept alive by a good delivery. It may, indeed, be almost said that the power of a good delivery is so great, that even an indifferent sermon well delivered, is, with the great majority of a congregation, more effective than a good sermon badly delivered. When we go abroad, and attend any places of public worship on the Conti- nent, we certainly find a striking contrast presented in the fervent deli very, and varied and expressive action, that distinguish foreign preachers in general, to the tameness and frigidity that characterise most of our pulpit discourses. There may be, to our taste, exuberance of warmth on the one hand, but is there not far too much coldness. on the other? AVould it not be better if our pulpits exhibited a style that was more a happy medium between those two extremes ? As regards the general rules for the good delivery of a sermon, they are the same as those I have already suggested for the good delivery of any other discourse to be addressed to a public audience. If the preacher be one, who does not yet dare to trust himself to the delivery ot Lect. XXIL] ON ELOCUTION, 377 an extempore discourse, but reads his sermon, let him endeavour so to read it that it shall resemble as much as possible speaking, and as little as possible mere reading. Let him, for this purpose, train the eye to the invaluable art of being able to grasp a sentence, or clause of a sentence, at a glance, and then deliver it, not with his eyes fixed on the page, but looking at his congregation, and varying his regard of them from time to time, as if each individual member of such congregation were per- sonally addressed. There can be no question that the eyes aid mate- rially in riveting attention to any speaker’s discourse, no matter whether it be one spoken extempore or read aloud. Just try .the experiment of endeavouring to listen to one whom some obstacle prevents you from seeing, and see what a labour it will be to keep up your attention, more especially if the delivery does not rise above mediocrity. We all instinctively like to see, as well as hear, a speaker, and to watch the varied play of feature and expression of countenance, and appropriate use of action. This last word naturally brings me to* the subject of gesture in the pulpit. Certainly the rostriun to which our preachers are confined is by no means favourable to action. All action in it must necessarily be confined to the trunk, head, arms, and hand, but all these portions of the body rightly used, especially in energetic passages, such as convey appeal, warning, or denunciation, may be rendered highly effective, and continual opportunities will arise for the use of emphatic, and what is termed referential, gesture. For fuller suggestions respecting the employment of action, I must refer you to what I have already said with reference to it in former Lectures, only observing that in the pulpit more than in any other place “ discre- tion ” should “ be your tutor,” and anything like exaggeration of action should be avoided. Because a preacher aims at being earnest, impres- sive, and zealous in his vocation, there is no need to be extravagant or violent. I venture to repeat here what I said on our opening night. We often hear well-intentioned persons — but who evidently have not at all fully considered the subject — object to the resources of the art of elocution, which after all means only the aggregate of what constitutes good delivery, being introduced into the reading-desk and pulpit, and say it savours of irreverence or profanity to rehearse over and over again prayers addressed to the Deity, until a mode is attained that shall satisfy the standard set up for the right performance of their public ministerial functions ; and that to recite or practise the reading aloud of their sermons, as an actor would study and rehearse his part, is to reduce the high and sacred calling of the clergyman to an unworthy level. I have heard some such objections raised by clergymen as well as laymen. But let me ask how is the singing of hymns and anthems managed in our cathedrals, churches, and chapels ? Is not the conducting of them left to persons wholly unskilled in the vocal art ? Do not organists, choristers, and singers meet and practise and rehearse over and over again the anthems, psalms, and hymns they have to sing, until all is thought sufficient in point of excellence, to be sung in public worship ? And are psalms, hymns, and anthems less direct appeals to the Deity than the prayers in our Liturgy, and do not all claim to be parts of divine 378 KINQS COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. service ? I answer, what is not thought to be waste of time or irreve- rence in the one case, is equally neither waste of time nor irreverence in the other. To read the Liturgy and to preach a sermon well is an art that requires just as much to be studied and practised as the sing- ing of hymns and anthems is an art that requires proper training and cultivation. Every part of public worship should be made as excellent as possible, and no portion of it neglected. When I first began, now more than twenty years ago, delivering lectures on Public Reading and Speaking at Oxford, I happened to find in the library of University College, a work by Dr. Burgh, on the Art of Speaking, more than a century old, and which I believe is now a very rare one, for I have never met with a copy since. The answers which the author gives to the objections or prejudices entertained in his time to the art of elocution being studied and practised by clergy- men before the public discharge of their ministerial functions, are so sound and sensible, and so applicable to our time as well as his, that I feel assured I cannot close this Lecture better than by giving you an abstract of Dr. Burgh’s remarks. “It may,” he says, “perhaps be objected here that sacred truth needs no ornament to set it off, no art to enforce it ; that the Apostles were artless and illiterate men, and yet they gained the great end of their mission, the conviction of multitudes, and establishment of their religion ; that, therefore, there is no necessity for this attention to delivery, in order to qualify the preacher for his sacred office, or to render his labours successful. “To all this the answer is ready, viz. : First, the Apostles were not all artless and illiterate ; St. Paul, the greatest and most general propa- gator of Christianity, is an eminent exception. He could be no mean orator who confounded the Jews at Damascus,* made a prince, before whom he stood to be judged, confess that he had almost persuaded him to become a convert to a religion everywhere spoken against ;t threw another into a fit of trembling as he sat upon his judgment-seat made a defence before the learned court of Areopagus, which gained him for a convert a member of the court itself ; § struck a whole people with such admiration that they took him for the god of eloquence ; || and gained him a place in Longinus’s IF list of famous orators. Would the cold-served-up monotony of our English sermon-readers have pro- duced such effects as these? But, further, the Apostles might very well spare human accomplishments ; having what was worth them all, viz., the divine gift of working miracles; which if our preachers had, I should not have much to say about their qualifying themselves in elocution. But, as it is, public instruction is the preacher’s weapon, with which he is to combat infidelity and vice. And what avails a weapon without skill to wield it ? * Acts ix. 22. + Acts xxvi. 28 ; xxviii. 22. J Acts xxiv. 25. § Acts xvii. 34. II Acts xiv. 12. IF ‘“It was with no small pleasure I lately met with a fragment of Longinus, which is preserved as a testimony of that critic’s judgment, at the beginning of a manuscript of the New Testament in the Vatican library. After that author has Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION 379 “ Medicines the most salutary to the body are taken with reluctance, if nauseous to the taste. However, they are taken. But the more necessary physic for the soul, if it be not rendered somewhat palatable, will be absolutely rejected. For we are much less prudent in our care for the most valuable part of ourselves than for the least. Therefore the preacher ought, above all other public speakers, to labour to enrich and adorn, in the most masterly manner, his addresses to mankind ; his views being the most important. What grand point has the player to play? Why, to draw an audience to the theatre.* The pleader at the bar, if he lays before the judges and jury the true state of the case, so as they may be most likely to see where the right of it lies, and a just decision may be given, has done his duty ; and the affair in agitation is an estate, or, at most, a life, which will soon by course of nature be extinct. And of the speaker in either House of Parliament, the very utmost that can be said is, that the good of his country may, in great measure, depend upon his tongue. But the infinitely importan object of preaching is, the reformation of mankind, upon which depend their happiness in this world and throughout the whole of their being Of what consequence is it, then, that the art of preaching be carried t( such perfection, that all may be drawn to places of public instruction, and that those who attend them may receive benefit ! And if almost the whole of preaching be delivery, how necessary is the study of delivery ! That delivery is incomparably the most important part in public instruction, is manifest from this, that very indifferent matter well delivered will make a considerable impression.t But bad utter- ance will defeat the whole effect of the noblest composition ever produced. “While exorbitant appetite and unruly passion within, while evil example with alluring solicitation without, while these invite and ensnare the frail and thoughtless into guilt, shall virtue and religion hold forth no charms to engage votaries ? Pleasure decks herself out with rich attire. Soft are her looks, and melting is the sweetness of her voice. And must religion present herself with every disadvantage ? Must she appear quite unadorned? What chance can she, then, have in competition with an enemy so much better furnished with every necessary invitation and allurement ? Alas ! our preachers do not address innocents in paradise, but thoughtless and often habituated sinners. Mere cold explaining will have but little effect on such. Weak is the hold which reason has on most men. Few of mankind numbered up the most celebrated orators among the Grecians, he says, ‘ Add to these Paul of Tarsus, the patron of an opinion not yet fully proved.’ ” — Spectator, No. 633. * “ I deny not that the theatre is capable of being made a school of virtue. But it must be put under regulations, other than we have ever yet seen it ; and those too various to be specified here ; so numerous are the particulars which want reformation, much more being at present wrong than right.” t “ ‘ A proof of the importance of delivery,’ says Quintilian, ‘may be drawn from the additional force which the actors give to what is written by the best poets, so that what we hear pronounced by them gives infinitely more pleasure than when we only read it.’ And again, ‘I think I may affirm that a very indifferent speech, well set off by the speaker, shall have a greater effect than the best, if destitute of that advan- tage.’ — Quint. Inst. Orat., p. 441. ‘Documento sunt vel scenici,’ &c.” KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 380 have able heads. All have hearts ; and all hearts may be touched, if the speaker is master of his art. The business is not so much to open the understanding as to warm the heart. There are few who do not know their duty. To allure them to the doing of it is the difficulty. Nor is this to be effected by cold reasoning. Accordingly, the Scripture orators are none of them cold. Their addresses are such as hardly any man can utter without warmth. ‘ Hear, O heavens ! Give ear, O earth ! To thee, O man, I call; my voice is to the sons of men. As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; but rather that he turn from his wickedness and live. Turn ye, turn ye. Why will ye die ? O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them who are sent unto thee 1 How often would I have gathered thy children, as a hen gathereth her brood under her wings, and ye would not. Hadst thou, in this thy day, known the things which belong to thy peace ! But now they are hid from thine eyes.’ “ It is true, the preacher is carefully to avoid ostentation. But at the same time he is to ‘ stir up every gift that is in him ; to cry aloud and not to spare ; to lift up his voice like a trumpet ; to reprove, correct, and instruct ; to be instant in season and out of season ; to become (innocently) all ‘things to all men,’ consequently to become an orator, if men are not to be affected by simple unadorned truth, however weighty. “ What Ccwi the people think of the sincerity of the preacher, who is cold and languid in his public instructions, while he is as warm and zealous as other men in the defence of an inconsiderable part of his property ? Would he plead as calmly for his life, as he does with his people in the cause of virtue and religion ? Coolness in a matter of the last importance, and about which one is really in earnest, is so unnatural as to be hardly practicable. Therefore Cicero* takes it for granted, that Calidius could not have addressed the Senate in so indifferent and unanimated a manner, if what he wanted to persuade them to believe had not been mere fiction. And Demosthenes, when one came to him begging that he would plead his cause against a person who had used him cruelly, of which usage he gave Demosthenes a very cold and unanimated account, could not believe that he had been so injured, till, upon his signifying his suspicion, the man was roused to some warmth ; and then the orator was convinced that his complaint was well founded, and immediately undertook the defence.t “ If it should be said by preachers, ‘ The people will be as much offended with us, if we overact our part, as they are now indifferent about attending our ministry ; so that it will avail nothing to study a more lively delivery ; ’ to this I must beg leave to answer, that there is no reason to fear anything from it. Because a manner of preaching may be used, which shall have ten times more life and vivacity in it than the present, and yet (if it be not unnatural or incorrect) be very safe from all danger of exceeding due bounds as to vivacity and force. And, further, we do, in fact, observe that no preacher is admired (I * “ ‘ Tu istic, M. Calidii nisi fingeres, sic ageres.’ ” — Cic. Brut., p. 181. Tom. i. + “ Pint, in Vit. Demosth.” Lect. XXIL ] on elocution. 381 do not mean by the mob, but by people of education) whose delivery is dull and unanimated, let his matter be what it will. “ Lest any reader should think I have been too severe upon the defi- ciencies of men of sacred character, as to delivery, either in leading the devotions of the people, or in instructing them in their duty ; I will add, by way of apology for what I have said, some passages to the same purpose from one of Addison’s papers in the ‘Spectator.’ “ ‘ Sir, — The well reading of the common prayer is of so great impor- tance, and so much neglected, that I take the liberty to offer to your consideration some particulars on that subject. And what more worthy your observation than this ? A thing so public, and of so high conse- quence. It is indeed wonderful, that the frequent exercise of it should not make the performers of that duty more expert in it. This inability, as I conceive, proceeds from the little care that is taken of their read- ing while at school, where, when they are got into Latin, they are looked upon as above English, the reading of which is wholly neglected, or, at least, read to very little purpose, without any due observation made to them of the proper accent and manner of reading. By this means they have acquired such ill habits as will not easily be removed.’ “ The writer of the letter then goes on to mention the advantage he himself found, from being led in his devotions by an elegant performer of the service at St. James’s Garlick Hill church. “ ‘ My eyes and my thoughts,’ says he, ‘ could not wander as usua» but were confined to my prayers. The confession was read with sue! a refined humility, the absolution with such a comfortable authority, tha thanksgivings with such a religious joy as made me feel those affections of the mind in a manner I never did before. To remedy, therefore, the grievances above complained of, I humbly propose that this excel- lent reader, upon the next and every annual assembly of the clergy at Sion College, and all other conventions, should read prayers be- fore them. For then, those who are afraid of stretching their mouths, and spoiling their soft voices, will learn to read with clearness, loudness, and strength. Others, who affect a rakish, negligent air, by folding their arms and lolling upon their book, will be taught a decent behaviour. Those who read so fast as if impatient of their work, may learn to speak deliberately. There is another sort, whom I call Pin- daric readers, as being confined to no set measure. These pronounce five or six words with great deliberation, and the five or six subsequent ones with as great celerity; the first part of a sentence with a very exalted voice, and the latter very low. Sometimes with one sort of tone, and immediately after with a different one. These gentlemen vill learn of my admired reader an evenness of voice and delivery. And all who are innocent of these affectations, but read with such an indifferency, as if they did not understand the language, may be informed of the art of reading movingly and fervently, how to place the emphasis, and give the proper accent to each word, and how to vary the voice according to the nature of the sentence. There is certainly a difference between reading a prayer and a gazette. These are often pretty classical scholars, and would think it an unpardonable sin to read Virgil or 382 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. Martial with as little taste as they do divine service.’ — Spectator^ No. 147. “ And the same standard author, in his 407th paper, complains as follows : — “ ‘ Our preachers stand stockstill in the pulpit, and will not so much as move a finger to set off the best sermons in the world. We meet with the same speaking statues at our bars, and in all public places of debate. Our words flow from us in a smooth, continued stream, without those strainings of the voice, motions of the-body, and majesty of the hand, which are so much celebrated in the orators of Greece and Rome. We can talk of life and death in cold blood, and keep our temper in a discourse which turns upon everything that is dear to us. “ ‘ It is certain that proper gestures, and vehement exertions of the voice, cannot be too much studied by a public orator. They are a kind of comment upon what he utters, and enforce everything he says with weak hearers ’ [and surely the bulk of hearers are weak] ‘ better than the strongest argument he can make use of. They keep the audience awake, and fix their attention to what is delivered to them ; at the same time that they show the speaker is in earnest, and affected himself with what he passionately recommends to others. “ ‘ How cold and dead a figure in comparison of these two great men’ [Demosthenes and Cicero] ‘ does an orator often make at the British bar, holding up his head with the most insipid serenity, and stroking the sides of a long wig/ &c. “ Dean Swift (who was no friend to over-doing on the serious side) advises a young clergyman as follows : — “ ‘ I take it for granted that you are already desirous to be seen in a pulpit. But I hope you will think it prudent to pass quarantine among the desolate churches five miles round this town, where you may at least learn to read and speak, before you venture to expose your parts in a city congregation. Not that these are better judges : but, because, if a man must need expose his folly, it is more safe and discreet to do so before few witnesses and a scattered neighbourhood. And you will do well if you can prevail with some intimate and judicious friend to be your constant hearer, and to beg of him to give you notice, with the utmost freedom, of whatever he finds amiss either in your voice or gesture. For want of such early warning, many clergymen continue defective, and sometimes ridiculous, to the end of their lives. Neither is it rare to observe, among excellent and learned divines, a certain ungracious manner, or unhappy tone of voice, which they have never been able to shake off .’ — Letter to a Young Clergyman. “ Are the faults complained of by these authors, who wrote almost fifty years ago, amended, or likely to be amended ? Let the answer to this question be collected from the following verses, by Dr. Byram, pre- fixed to Fordyce’s ‘Art of Preaching,’ published a few years ago. ‘“For, what’s a sermon, good or bad, If a man reads it like a lad ? Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION, 3S3 To hear some people, when they preach, How they run o’er all parts of speech, And neither raise a word, nor sink ; Our learned bishops, one would think, Had taken schoolboys from the rod, To make ambassadors of God.’ “ And afterwards — “ ‘ In point of sermons, ’tis confest, Our English clergy are the best : But this appears, we must confess, Not from the pulpit, but the press. They manage, with disjointed skill. The matter well, the manner ill ; And, what seems paradox at first. They make the best, and preach the worst.’ ” It is far better that a sermon should consist of many thoughts, enriched by appropriate illustrations and from which sound lessons in religion and morality can be deduced, but close and compact in construction and comparatively brief in length, than that it should be an illustration of a few commonplace ideas spun out and elaborated in long involved sentences, and weakened by diffuseness in composition, into a lengthy, tedious discourse, wearisome to follow and difficult to under- stand. An anecdote of a Bishop who administered a sharp rebuke to one of his clergy, notorious for his long and tedious sermons, has been amusingly told in lines written for “ The Church of England Pulpit and Ecclesiastical Review,” by the Rev. Charles E. Tisdall,* D.D., Chancellor of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, distinguished for his pulpit oratory, and for the numerous effective readings, pathetic and humorous, which he gives in aid of charitable institutions. I append the verses, as they may serve to warn against the serious fault to which I allude. * Chancellor Tisdall was requested by the Moore Centenary Committee, of which Sir John Barrington, then Chief Magistrate of Dublin, was chairman, to recite the Ode, “The Centenary of Moore,” at the Exhibition Palace, Dublin, which he did. May 28th, 1879, before an audience of 3000 people. In recognition of the masterly style in which he delivered the classic lines specially written for him by Denis Florence MacCarthy, Esq., M.R.I. A., he was presented with his portrait at a meet- ing convened at the Mansion House, on the 14th of October in the same year, and entertained by his Lordship at dinner to meet several of the contributors to the picture. Many celebrities, distinguished in literature and art, were subscribers to the “Tisdall Portrait Fund,” and Mr. Henry Irving was among the earliest con- tributors. In a work published in 1870, “ Notation of the Reading of the Liturgj' ; A Guide in the Reading-Desk,” by the late Robert James Ball, Professor of Elocution, Dr. Tisdall is thus mentioned, page 133: “He is acknowledged by his clerical brethren in Dublin to be one of the best liturgical readers of the day.” 5S4 .KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXU, LONG SERMONS. AN EPISCOPAL CENSURE. AN OLD STORY IN A NEW VERSION. A Parson oft his flock had bored With sermons over long, Till of the Bishop they implored That he’d redress their wrong. Then missives from the palace came — Epistles not a few ; The preacher droned on all the same, And emptied many a pew ! To hear him then his Lordship went, But found him brief indeed — The preacher, knowing his intent, That Sunday “put on speed.” Determined he would not bfe balked Of censuring the bore, After the Priest the Bishop walked, And shut the vestry door. “ A question plain,” he thus began, “ I wish to ask of you : Pray is it your accustomed plan To gallop sermons through ? ” “ My preaching long,” the Parson said, “My Lord, you’ll never find ; Of tedium I’ve a wholesome dread.” The Bishop then his mind Spoke plainly — “ Best the truth were out, So frank I’ll be with you : Short the discourse you gave, no doubt, But you were tedious too.” C. E. T. If written sermons be preached, in order to produce proper effect upon a congregation, it is most essential that they should be really preached and not merely read. In order to do this let the student acquire by diligent practice the power of training the eye to take in, not merely individual words, but groups or clauses of words, at each glance he bestows upon his manuscript sermon (and it is astonishing how much by practice our visual organs may be made to accomplish in this respect), and then, not with his eyes fixed on the page of his book, but directed towards his congregation, speak to them the words, thus, as it were, by him momentarily learnt off by heart. The pauses, grammatical and rhetorical, which divide such groups or clauses of words from each other, will serve both rightly to divide the sentence into its proper component parts, and afford the same opportunity in the music of speech that the rests do in the music of song, of taking in the breath quietly and fully, but at the same time jnaudibly, as I have shown in Lect. XXII. J ON ELOCUTION. 185 my Lecture on Respiration. Then, if the proper inflections and right modulation of the voice be carried out, correct poise and emphasis be given, and the other elements of elocution properly observed, and the emphatic, referential, or other gesture, when appropriate and in good taste, judiciously introduced, the preacher will really, if the composition be good, make it what a sermon should be, an effective personal address to every member of the congregation. As regards the composition and delivery of sermons generally from a layman’s point of view, I do not think it would be possible for the clerical student to follow sounder advice, or act upon more useful suggestions, than he will find in the excellent address on this subject delivered by Mr. Walter, M.P., on December 2, 1879, and of which I append the full report given in the “ Times ” of the following day. A LAYMAN’S VIEW OF READING AND PREACHING. “ At the monthly meeting of the Church Homiletical Society, held at the Chapter House, St. Paul’s Churchyard, yesterday, Mr. Cecil Raikes, M.P., presiding, a lecture was (delivered on ‘ Reading and Preaching from a Layman’s Point of View,’ by Mr. Walter, M.P. After the usual devotional exercises, the Chairman introduced the business of the meeting, remarking that the object of that society was to improve the preaching in the Church of England. It was sometimes alleged, but he hoped they did not admit, that the preaching in that Church was bad. The position taken by that society was that the preaching in the Church was so good that it was worth improving, and their efforts were therefore directed towards that end. Sermons were addressed to the most critical audience in the world, the best educated of the laity. They were also addressed to an audience which was not able to limit their duration, nor to reply to the propositions advanced in them. All that tended to make sermons the butt of much criticism, and often of much unjust and ungenerous criticism. There was no doubt that the preaching of the Church of England, untrained as it was for the most part, had yet contrived to keep a great hold on the nation since the time of the Reformation. The most illustrious orator of our day had lately been delivering a series of almost matchless orations to masses of the population, and he had shown how for a week an immense number of people might be enchained by the spell of such brilliant eloquence. But no one contended that if those addresses were delivered for three hundred, or even for thirty years, audiences would be got to listen to or to benefit by them. The Church of England occupied a position of great authority, which she had used exceedingly well both in regard to the force and the moderation of her preaching ; but she had not, perhaps, the same special training for preachers as other religious bodies possessed. The Noncon- formist denominations had, as a rule, for their ministers men who sought their profession from the consciousness that they had a peculiar gift for preaching, and consequently for their audiences their preaching was effec- tive and powerful. With the Church of England men were impelled to enter her service by various causes, all tending to promote her success, but not necessarily involving that great gift or an acquaintance with those 386 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. principles on which good preaching depended. All honour, then, to that society for offering to aid the younger men in fitting themselves for that important part of their work, so that the clergy might shine in the pulpit as it was universally acknowledged they shone in all the other functions of their sacred office. He was sure they would all be glad to hear Mr. Walter’s views on that interesting subject. “ Mr. Walter said : When we consider how much the comfort of our daily life depends upon the voice and manner of speech of those around us, it is not unreasonable to suppose that the spiritual benefits which we are intended to derive from the ordinances of reading and preaching God’s Word may be greatly promoted or impaired by the manner in which those services are performed by the ministers of the Church. The subject, therefore, would seem to be one of considerable interest both to laity and clergy ; though, from a layman’s point of view, I should say it hardly occu- pies the place it deserves in a clergyman’s education. The faculty of read- ing, like that of writing, is too apt to be taken for granted ; little or no attention is paid to it at school ; the very mode of construing and repeating lessons, as usually practised, is calculated rather to injure than improve it ; while the annual school speeches, which hand down the tradition of special culture in this branch of education, too often afford painful evidence how little either masters or boys are sensible of its importance. Unless, there- fore, a boy has had the advantage of being taught to read well at home, or is endowed with those gifts which sometimes make up for the want of it — the gift of natural intelligence, combined with a good ear and a good voice — he has little chance of improving his reading from the time he first leaves home till he is called upon to read the Lessons in church, when he becomes conscious for the first time that he is really playing upon an instrument of which he knows neither the compass nor the power. In Evelyn’s Diary, August i6, 1691, I find this entry : — ‘A sermon by the curate — an honest discourse, but read without any spirit or seeming concern : a great fault in the education of young preachers.’ I will venture to say that there is not one of those whom I have the honour of addressing who has not made or listened to a similar remark, and that among a large proportion of the younger clergy the art of reading, as distinguished from the mere repetition of words, is unknown. Besides the want of early and systematic training, there are other causes, both moral and physical, which militate against good reading, and which cannot always be remedied. “ I. The voice itself is an instrument which its owner can be taught to manage within its proper compass, but of which he cannot materially alter the quality or range. Hence, if its pitch be either too high or too low, especially the former, it is difficult for him to adapt it to the requirements of Scripture reading, which prefer the tenor and baritone to the alto or bass. 2. There may be defects in the organs of sight, hearing, and speech which art may palliate, but can never wholly overcome, and which are fatal to good reading. “ 3. In spite of the narrow limits of our isle and its boasted civilisation, there is no standard of pronunciation universally recognised, even in the class of society from which the majority of the clergy come. We cannot Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 3S7 go far afield without having our ears offended by provincialisms, which never sound more uncouth than when uttered from the lectern or pulpit, and which are too apt to divert our thoughts from the message to the reader or preacher who delivers it. We often wonder how it is that in this vast exchange of human ideas and language the letter ‘ h ’ has never yet found its proper value ; but the difficulty which seems to be experienced in solving this apparently easy problem may serve to illustrate the tenacity with which provincialisms cling to their respective localities and defy all attempts to establish a uniform pronunciation of the mother tongue. “ 4. Another cause — of a moral rather than physical character — which impedes good reading is nervousness ; a feeling which sometimes proceeds from mere shyness or maiivaise honte.^ sometimes from a painful sense of one’s own deficiencies, and which, in either case, it often requires years to get over. It is not every young curate who can safely apply to himself St. Paul’s saying to Timothy, ‘ Let no man despise thy youth ; ’ and it may well happen that many years and much searching of heart are necessary to enable him to give due utterance to the warnings and foreshadowings of the Old Testament and the ineffable mereies of the New. “ 5. Again, a very serious impediment to good reading is ignorance of the subject one is reading about. To read Shakespeare or any of our great poets or novelists well one must have thoroughly mastered, not only their language and style, but also their moral purpose and the relationships of the characters they bring on the stage in the poem or drama before us. We must realise, for instance, if we have not experienced, the foolish fond- ness of Lear ; the heartlessness of his elder daughters ; the unshaken affection of the younger, whose ‘ voice was ever soft, gentle, and low ; ’ the brutal selfishness of Edmund, the avenging loyalty of Edgar — we must have imbibed almost the very genius of the author before we can throw his spirit into our reading and adopt his language as our own. And if this be the case with profane literature, much more does it apply to Holy Scripture, in which every chord of human sympathy is touched by a divine hand, every character of life painted with an unerring pencil, every disease of the soul detected and ministered to by an All-wise Physician. The story of God’s everlasting purpose in the creation and redemption of our race is presented to us, as it were, in a series of tableaux, in which the final triumph of good over evil is perpetually shadowed forth, while the all-important fact of His personal Providence is illustrated by a variety of episodes, like those of Joseph, of Job, of Daniel, of Elijah, in which we seem still to recognise ‘ the voice of God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.’ When we add to this the still more wondrous record of God’s manifestation in the flesh, in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, and our own interest in that event ; how it has restored man to the image of God and made this life a school for immortality ; and when also we bear in mind the power which our English version possesses of giving the utmost effect to the recital of these records of which human language is capable, it seems strange that good reading should be the exception instead of the rule, and that so little pains should be taken to cultivate so powerful an instrument of religious instruction. In old times the reading of Scripture was recognised as part of the office of preaching, and is now, as the very 388 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. term ‘ Scripture reader ’ implies, held to be a subordinate branch of that office. A well-read lesson is, indeed, a sermon in itself, and ‘ Scripture itself,’ says Hooker, ‘ is not so hard but that the only reading thereof may give life unto willing hearers.’ But perhaps the simplest explanation of the phenomenon that good reading is so rare an accomplishment even among the clergy, is to be found in the fact that it is not considered worth their while to aim at it. The art of oratory is far less cultivated now than in the palmy days of Greece and Rome, when public speaking monopolised that control of public opinion which it now shares with the press, and when literature, in the modern sense of the word, was wholly unknown. The benefits which we derive from the inventions and appliances of modern civilisation are not an unmixed gain. The use of note-paper and the steel pen — the tools of the penny post — has tended to cramp and spoil our hand- writing, and I have no doubt that the invention of printing, while it has diffused and equalised the means of knowledge, has weakened the orator’s power and diminished the necessity for his existence. I am inclined to believe that the art of reading, which is a branch of oratory, has suffered from the same cause. In olden times, before the schoolmaster was abroad, when the mass of the people were unable to read at all, and the Church Bible was chained to the desk, it was a matter of vital importance that the Scriptures should be read to the people in an earnest and impres- sive manner. It was their only chance of becoming acquainted with their contents and of having them impressed on their memory. In these days, however, when it is considered the duty of all, not only to hear the Scrip- tures, but to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, it may possibly be thought superfluous to take much trouble about reading to the people what they can very well read for themselves ; and thus the proverb, ‘ that what is everybody’s business is nobody’s,’ may receive an unexpected fulfilment even at the lectern. I will conclude this part of the subject by pointing out some of the means by which I think our public reading might be improved. First, and foremost, the art of reading should be taught and cultivated at home while the voice is flexible, while a child can be more easily taught to recite from memory than to read from print, and before he has contracted the habits of gabbling in ordinary talk and sing-song in reading, which he is pretty sure to acquire at school, and of which it is so difficult to cure him. In former times those who had to gain their living by the use of their voice took no small pains to cultivate it. ‘ Quid est oratori tarn necessarium,’ says Ciero, ‘ quam vox ? . . . quse una maxime eloquentiam vel commendat, vel sustinet ; ’ w'hile he goes on to complain that the young men of his day could not be induced to give a fraction of the time to its cultivation which was bestowed upon it in the schools of Greece, whose tragic actors, he says, ‘ et annos com- plures sedentes declamitant, et quotidie, antequam pronuntient, vocem CLibantes sensim excitant, eandemque, cum egerunt, sedentes ab acutissimo sono usque ad gravissimum sonum recipiunt, et quasi quodammodo colli- gunt.’ In the next place I would recommend the study of good models, yet with the proviso that they be studied, not for the purpose of catching their tone and manner, but for the purpose of learning the difference between good reading and bad. In my Oxford days men used to attend Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 389 service at St. Mary’s, in order to hear the Lessons read by John Henry Newman, and a treat it certainly was. With a voice neither rich nor powerful, but penetrating and plaintive, and modulated with the skill of a consummate musician, he brought out the tones of Scripture with an unerr- ing flow of rhythm which almost rose to melody, and which filled the soul of the hearer with deeper sympathy with the pious resignation of Job, and with loftier aspirations in unison with the sublime utterances of Isaiah. “ Such, at least, was the impression which Mr. Newman left on my mind of his power as a reader ; but, like other great masters, he had his school of imitators, who, in trying to copy him, acquired only the mannerism without the genius, and were only laughed at for their pains. A man’s «tyle of reading, therefore, should be the result of his natural powers, duly cultivated, but not formed upon an ideal model, or it will lack the quality of truth and simplicity which alone can give it due effect. Whether the practice of intoning, now so much in vogue, is conducive to good reading, is a point which ought to be well considered by young clergymen before they adopt a fashion which they may find themselves unable to throw off so easily as they can put it on. A man may intend only to intone the prayers ; but by degrees the habit masters him, and his congregation dis- covers, if he does not, that he is intoning the Lessons, which is intolerable. I will only add that good reading, like every other good gift, confers a double blessing, on the giver as well as on the receiver. There is no surer way of impressing the truths of Scripture on one’s own mind than by reading them aloud to others. In the very act of doing so, passages often strike us with a force w'hich we have never felt before ; and thus, while striving to edify others, we gain fresh spiritual strength or comfort for ourselves. So much on the subject of reading. “ With regard to preaching, a layman in venturing to give his advice must bear in mind that, though he may speak with the truthfulness and simpli- city of a Gil Bias, he may have among his hearers an Archbishop of Granada, and must be prepared for a moral, if not a physical, ejection from the room. ‘Judge not the preacher, for he is thy judge,’ is one of those counsels of perfection which few, it is to be feared, attain to, and it is only with the view of making it more attainable by ordinary people that I would dare to make any remarks upon preaching which might appear to savour of criticism. Dean Swift, in his letter to a young clergyman, advised him to get ‘ some intimate and judicious friend to be his constant hearer, and allow him with the utmost freedom to give him notice of whatever he finds amiss either in his voice or gesture ; ’ but I observe that the Dean does not extend this freedom of criticism to the matter as well as to the delivery of the sermon, and I therefore conclude that he knew that this would be an ordeal too severe for human nature to bear. I cannot help thinking, how- ever, that the want of some such purifying process in the education of a young preacher is a serious loss to him. Consider the circumstances of his position. From the time he takes holy orders, at the age of twenty-four or twenty-five, till the time he takes his seat as a bishop in the House of Lords, he is never under the fire of contradiction, except at a Church Congress, or a Diocesan Conference, or possibly at home. He may say what he pleases in the pulpit without fear of encountering that hostile 390 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. xxir. criticism which awaits every other public speaker, whether in Parliament or at the Bar. Hence he is sometimes tempted, like other privileged persons, to express opinions which his more experienced hearers know to be wrong, but which they are not at liberty to challenge. He may palpably misinterpret or misapply texts of Scripture — as probably most of us could testify — or he may introduce political or scientific topics in terms which at once plunge his hearers into the caldron of the Eastern Question or the mazes of the Darwinian theory. In the meantime, the members of his congregation whom he has thus unwittingly offended have nothing to do but either nurse their wrath for an explosion as soon as they get out of church, or, what is better, endeavour to learn that lesson of patience which George Herbert prescribes as a sovereign remedy for sermons without sense. But if the clergy, from this point of view, may be considered the spoilt children of the learned professions, it must be confessed, on the other hand, that they rarely abuse their privilege, and that they are more liable to err from excessive reticence than from the opposite failing to which I have referred. At the same time it might do no harm if the bishops sometimes reminded the younger clergy in their charges that they are a privileged class ; that their exemption from criticism in respect of their pulpit oratory is a source of temptation against which it behoves them to watch, and that as it is in the highest degree indecorous in a layman to indulge in that habit of think- ing aloud by which congregations are sometimes scandalised, so it is their duty not to give occasion to such a scandal by using language in the pulpit calculated to provoke it. It may savour of presumption for one who has had no experience in the composition of sermons to lecture an assembly of preachers on such a subject ; and, indeed, there is probably nothing new to be said about it ; but I will endeavour to state some of the chief points which appear to me to deserve the consideration of young^ preachers : — “ I. The object of a preacher should be to rivet the attention of his hearers, to prevent them from going to sleep or thinking of other matters, and to impress some moral or doctrinal truth on their minds. To effect this, his manner must be impressive, serious, and earnest; it must carry with it the evidence of its own sincerity, and must proceed out of the fulness of his heart. The secret of good preaching must be learnt, if I am not mistaken, on the knees. It is only when a man has probed the wounds of his own moral nature and found the remedy for them by meditation and prayer that he will be able to minister to the spiritual diseases of others : to ‘ read to them their thoughts,’ as has been said by a great master of the art, ‘ and comfort them by the very reading ; to tell them what they know about themselves, and what they do not know ; and make them feel that there is a higher life than this daily one, and a brighter world than that they see.’ “ 2. In preaching to a mixed congregation a clergyman should use homely language, and not attempt a style above the capacity of his hearers. In the words of a great master of English, ‘ a divine has nothing to say to the wisest congregation of any parish in this kingdom which he may not express in a manner to be understood by the meanest among them.’ In confirmation of this I will mention an anecdote which I heard the other day of Archbishop Whately — that he made a point of submitting Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 391 the proofs of any work which he proposed to publish to one of his daughters, in order to ascertain whether its meaning was perfectly intel- ligible, and whether it was possible to express it in clearer language. I am not saying that it is wrong to address a learned audience in more scientitic language than would be suitable to a country congregation ; but I have no doubt that even the magnificent university sermons of the late Dr. Mozley could be translated into language which would make them intelligible to the humblest audience ; and I think it would be a good exercise for any young clergyman to try the experiment. “ 3. The parochial clergy may be described as the ‘ general practi- tioners ’ of their order. They bear the same relation and about the same proportion to the clerical profession that the country doctors do to the pure surgeons and the physicians in the sister art of medicine. It follows that though there may be a large amount of general ability among them, yet few may possess the peculiar qualities which can enable them to excel as preachers. The weekly sermon is an operation requiring considerable skill and experience ; and with the care and worry of a large parish, few men can find time for sufficient study and meditation to keep them up to the mark in that special branch of their calling. ‘ A preacher,’ says Bishop Bull, ‘must have knowledge, not only to spend, but to keep j not like those that live from hand to mouth, or whose stock of knowledge is quickly spent in a few sermons, but he must have something still reserved and laid up in store.’ A man must either keep sinking his well deeper, or pouring into it fresh streams of knowledge, or he will soon find himself pumped dry, as a young clergyman not long ago told me was the case with himself while he recounted the hindrances to study which had beset him while a curate. It is not my business to decide between the respective claims of public worship and preaching, but I would put it to those whom it concerns whether the frequent services which occupy so much of a clergyman’s time in our large towns are not responsible for a good deal of the inferior preaching which prevails in those places. If no better remedy can be found for this, I would suggest that clergymen should be given more frequent opportunities of exchanging pulpits, so that they might devote to the preparation of one sermon the time they usually bestow upon two. I would also suggest the expediency of establishing an order of preachers, to be appointed by the bishop, but not limited to particular dioceses, in order that the great mass of churchgoers may have the benefit of an occasional visit from some eminent preacher who can present old truths in a new light, and perhaps awaken consciences which had slept under the drowsy influence of too unvaried a strain. “ 4, I would strongly recommend young clergymen to keep as closely as possible to the subject of their text, and develop its meaning, and endea- vour to throw light upon it. A layman is apt to go away disappointed if he finds that the text was only selected as a peg whereon to hang a dis- course upon something quite different from the doctrine or practice it was intended to enforce. I will give an example of what I mean. Once upon a time— I will not say where — I was attending the service in one of our cathedrals. The preacher chose for his text part of the epistle for the day, taken from the third chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians : ‘ If there had 392 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. xxn. been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should have been by the law,’ and the following verse. Now this was a text, as I think every one will admit, calculated to whet a hungry layman’s appetite and to raise his expectation to a considerable pitch. It is undoubtedly a very suggestive as well as comprehensive text, embracing, as it does, the whole of the relations between the old dispensation and the new. But I doubt if it ever occurred to St. Paul that the chief use which a preacher would one day make of this passage would be to show how wonderfully appropriate was the position which the Epistles held in the English Prayer- Book ; but this was literally all that I was able, with the utmost attention, to gather from that sermon, and I need not say that I went away feeling as empty as I came. I would also warn them against the too-common mistake of perpetually harping upon some favourite doctrine and importing it needlessly into almost every sermon. The constant attempt to enforce particular doctrines, especially of a speculative or controversial character, is apt to set the mind working in the opposite direction, and sometimes produces the contrary effect to that contemplated by the preacher. A remarkable instance of this is mentioned by Robert Hall. ‘ An excellent man,’ he says, ‘ was so impressed with the doctrine of the Divinity of Christ that he made it the constant topic of his ministry. Every sermon he preached was crowded with proofs or answers to objections relating to this important topic, and the result was that most of his hearers became Arians and Socinians.’ 5. And lastly, I would recommend all clergymen to cultivate the habit of speaking instead of reading their sermons. I am not advocating what is called extempore preaching, because I cannot believe that any sermon can require less preparation than an after-dinner speech ; and that, as some of us know by experience, requires enough to spoil a good dinner. But a preacher cannot keep his eyes constantly fixed upon his book, or only raised from it at intervals, without losing that hold on his audience which is only secured when eye, tongue, hand alike appeal to our hopes and fears, and ‘ enforce attention like sweet harmony.’ One has only to imagine how an advocate would fare with a jury if he were to read a written defence on behalf of his client, however cleverly prepared, in the presence of a rival who used all the arts of a speaker to engage their sympathy, in order to appreciate the difference between the two styles of address. ‘ Verba enim neminem movent, nisi eum qui ejusdem linguae societate conjunctus est ; sententiccque saspe acutae non acutorum hominum sensus praetervolant. Actio, quse prse se motum animi fert, omnes movet, iisdem enim omnium animi moribus concitantur, et eos iisdem notis et in aliis agnoscunt, et in se ipsi indicant ’ (Cic., De Or.). I fear, however, that our pulpits themselves have something to answer for in this matter, and that no great improvement in pulpit oratory is likely to occur till they are altered. I will not go so far as to say what I once heard an American preacher say, that ‘ pulpits were the invention of the devil ; ’ but the fact thus roughly expressed is that to be cabined, cribbed, confined in a wooden or stone box a few feet above the ground, with a brass bookstand in Iront, and a pair of candlesticks on each side, is not the most favourable position for giving that full expression to the impulses of the soul which the attitude Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 393 of a preacher towards his hearers requires. For delivering a set of lectures on some theological dogma or even for a bare exposition of Scripture, a pulpit, or even a chair, may suffice ; but when speaking to the souls of men it seems to me that the whole person of the preacher should be visible to his congregation, or the effect must be that of a bust speaking rather than a full-length figure. A clergyman told me the other day that the pulpit in his church being under repair, they rigged up a platform on the top of the pews, and that he found it a far more comfortable position for preaching. But I have trespassed upon your attention too long, though the subject is one which is worthy of far ampler treatment. I can only plead, with the Roman orator, ‘ Haec edidi, non ut volui, sed ut potui, et ut me temporis angustias coegerunt.’ “ On the motion of the Rev. Dr. Nolan, a vote of thanks was unani- mously accorded to Mr. Walter for his admirable lecture. “ Mr. Walter having briefly acknowledged the compliment, the proceed- ings closed with a vote of thanks to the Chairman.” So, too, the Earl of Carnarvon, at a recent Church Conference, speak- ing generally on the subject of preaching, said at the close of his address — ■ “ Preaching in the early ages was not confined to the clergy. Up to the tenth century, the monks, who did the most effective preaching, were not in orders, and within the last few years lay readers had very wisely been revived. In London, said the noble earl, and other large towns, there has been an improvement of late years, and vast audiences are now gathered together to hang on the lips of an eloquent preacher, where, till recently, there was a sleepy service and congregation. I will venture to indicate some few amongst many points to which I think attention may not unfitly be devoted. He who is master of the art need not fear a. comparison with the best of extempore preachers. Melville always read his sermons, yet so as to attract an overflowing congregation. I recommend tne adop- tion at times of the use of printed sermons, of which English theology possesses splendid and noble compositions, wasted now to all but the student. Speaking of extemporaneous preaching, and quoting authorities for and against it, the noble earl said that extemporaneous preaching did not save labour, for it required, if well done, more thought and preparation than a written sermon. Whitfield prepared his discourses, Simeon used to write his out half-a-dozen times, and thus could deliver them with perfect ease and animation. Lord Carnarvon suggested the appointment of a certain number of selected preachers qualified by study to preach. Roman Catholics, Wesleyans, and Lutherans adopted such a system. The Con- ference passed a vote of thanks to his lordship for his paper, and a resolu- tion in favour of the views he had expounded.” SUPPLEMENT TO LECTURE XXII. S illustrations of modern pulpit oratory, well adapted from their glowing and poetical language, striking imagery, and general rhetorical character, to serve as selections for the practice of the young clergyman or theological student in sacred elocution, I give, as a supplement to my preceding Lecture, a few passages from sermons preached by some of our most eminent modern divines, whose fame as pulpit orators has reached beyond the confines of the Churches to which they respectively belong. In giving the following as illustrations well adapted for the practice of the student in clerical elocution, my chief aim has been to present him with passages which, from their impassioned or emotional character, call into exercise the highest powers of a well-cultivated voice, and bring into practical use all those principles which in their right application constitute the effective preacher. With the following words. Canon Liddon concluded a brilliant discourse, at St. Paul’s Cathedral, on the martyrdom of St. Stephen : — ■ “ My brethren, this habit of thinking that you would do a great deal of good if you were something else than what you are, is fatal to your doing what you might do where you are. As a rule, men who do little in a lower position would do less in a higher. The man who, wasting the one talent, made the one talent the excuse, would have wasted the five. A life which is spent in dreaming of what might be under other circumstances is lost to acting for the best under the present circumstances. If Stephen had said, ‘ If I were only in the place of Peter, I would dispute with the Hellenists ; I would address the Sandhedrim ; I would die, if need be, as a martyr for Christ,’ he never would have done any one of these things. He did what he could, where, and being what, he was. His real greatness was altogether independent of his position. * * * * “ Men have asked why Christmas Day, of all the days in the year, should be followed by the festival of the first Christian martyr, — the birthday of the world’s true King by the anniversary of a tragedy. The answer is, surely, not far to seek, at least for any practical Christian. Yesterday proclaimed a great Christian truth; to-day points the moral. Brethren, the incarnation of the Son of God is not a speculation of the understanding : it is a fact in history which has lessons for the heart. It is, incomparably, the greatest fact D the history of our race; and, as such, Lect. XXII.] KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 395 it carries with it — it imposes in the sphere of duty — corresponding moral consequences. If the Everlasting and the Almighty laid aside His glory to enter into conditions of time, and to robe Himself in our frail human nature, that He might, by His atoning death and by His gift of a new nature through communion with Himself, recover us to God, surely it is no exaggeration to say, in familiar words, that — “ ‘Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an offering far too small : Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.’ And Stephen, shedding his blood thus cheerfully and joyfully for the Master who had redeemed him, shows what faith in an incarnate and crucified God should ever mean for Christians. ‘ If He has done so much for me, what can I possibly do for Him } ’ — that should be the keynote of a Christian life. He may ask little or much; He may demand heroic sacri- fices, or He may ask only for punctual attention to daily and prosaic duty; but this is certain — that He has a right to make any demand He wills ; and it should be a point of honour with every Christian to satisfy Him. It is this simple self-surrender in a spirit of love to God, and for the souls of men, which makes life strong and noble, as was the life of St. Stephen. It is this self-surrender which makes death, whenever or wherever it may come, a falling asleep in Christ. “ Pray we, brethren, the E)ivine Child, born as at this time for us, that we, being regenerate and made His brethren, and our Father’s children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by His Holy Spirit, So that for us, as for St. Stephen and for Stephen’s greater pupil, to live may be Christ, and to die our gain.” The following noble passages occur in one of Canon Liddon’s ' discourses, preached at St. Mary’s, Oxford, in 1877 : — “ How did the Gospel look when placed in juxtaposition with the popular sentiment of the greatness of Rome If it had yet been heard of in the upper circles of the imperial city, how did men think of it ? What did they say of it ? Was it not relatively to everything in the great capital, as far as the natural senses and judgment of man could pierce, poor and insignificant ? The best informed, who deigned, now and then, to bestow a thought upon the morbid fancies of the Eastern world, could have distinguished in it only a rebellious off-shoot from the most anti-social and detested religion in the empire ; it was itself an ‘ exitiabilis superstitio,’ and had about it a touch of inconsequence and absurdity from which Judaism was free.” ... “If Christianity meant to propagate itself, where was its organization ? How could the government of a few unnoticed con- gregations enter into any sort of rivalry with the mighty system of the imperial rule ? To what could it point in the way of literature, at least so far as the literary public knew ? How could it compete with the genius of poets and historians who had the ear of the world ? What was the capacity of its leading men, at least in public estimation, when set side 396 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXTT. by side with the accomplished statesmen who had erected and who still from time to time ruled the empire ? Well might it have seemed that Rome, the centre of imperial life, must bring the infant Church to bay ; Rome must teach it to measure itself by other standards than any which could be supplied by a remote Asiatic province. Rome must overawe by the magnificence of its collective splendours the pretensions of any system or teaching, coming forth from some obscure corner of the empire on a mission to illuminate and to change the world.” . . , “ St. Paul was well aware of the insignificance of the Gospel, and of the insignificance of the Church, when measured by ordinary human standards. This very insignificance is power. It was his own observation that ‘ not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble,’ are called to take their places in the kingdom of the Redemption. But then, in his estimate of the relative value of the seen and the unseen, of the Divine and the human, of nature and of grace, this very insignificance is power : ‘ God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty ; and the base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are ; that no flesh should glory in His presence.’ There was nothing in the glories of Rome to arrest the exclamation, ‘ I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ !”’ Preaching at the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, on the text : “ The people gathered themselves unto Aaron, and said unto him. Up! make us gods which shall go before us : for as for this Moses — the man that brought us up out of the land of Egypt — we wot not what is become of him ” (Exod. xxxii. i), the Bishop of Peterborough, the eloquent Dr. Magee, said — “Yes, there are not wanting signs in the world — there are not wanting signs in our own country, although they are not yet so loud or so noisy as to compel the attention of all men — there are not wanting signs that a god- less nation, or a degraded and a debased one, has to dread at last that cleansing fire and sword that are the avenging judgments of God upon the nation that has cast off His faith and that has denied His law. “And so, brethren, we learn, surely, from this story of sacred history long ago that there is, in the midst of us, still the same justice of Divine pro- vidence. We learn — and all human history has been teaching us from that day to this — that this terrible drama re-enacts itself with infallible certainty in each of its acts, — that, when the nation begins by casting off its faith and ceasing to believe in the invisible, it degrades itself to the sen- suous worship and enjoyment of the visible, and that then there is no check for all those underground fires and forces which threaten even to work their way up and to destroy society, — that there is no check for this but brute force ; and then the question is woe for the weakest and well for the strongest. And so ever does the false faith lead to the foul life, and ever is the foul life cleansed by the terrible judgments of God. “ My brethren, in these days when men, in the name of free thought, defy Lect. XXIL] ON ELOCUTION 397 authority, and in the name of philosophy reject the older philosophy, and the deeper and the truer teachings that they can find in their Bibles — in these days when we priests and prophets are invited, not in wrath at men’s sins, but in very feebleness and helplessness, to let fall the tables of the law and see them broken at our feet, — in these days when the cry is still, ‘ As for these stories of the divine law, and as for this story of a divine and incarnate Teacher and Mediator, we wist not what has become of these : give these up and go with us, and we will give you of these ornaments, and you shall make gods for us, and we shall go together to the banquet that life sets before us,’ — in these days, more than ever, is needed a heart wakeful to listen to the utterances from the mount where, invisible yet surely, there is enthroned the Giver of all law — the Teacher of all truth. May we, each one of us, lay to heart the lessons that are taught us in this inspired story of how God dealt with the nation of old in the way of teach- ing and of judgment, for all these things happened to them for examples. May God give us grace to shun the sin of national idolatry, and so may He preserve us from the suffering of national judgment.” The same distinguished speaker — Dr. Magee, when Rector of Enniskillen — thus concluded a lecture on “ Scepticism,” delivered before the Young Men’s Christian Association in Dublin in 1863 : — “ Be sure of this, that no part of your belief is really yours, save that by which you live — that which has wrought itself into all your life, and struck its roots into all your being. . . Live your faith ; live it until you feel it is your life ; live it so that all men may see how it is your life. So shall you not only learn evidences, but be evidences ; so shall you oppose to the doubt of unbelief, from within and from without, the one perpetual miracle of the Church of Christ, the spiritual resurrection and ascension of the soul ; so shall you establish the one unanswerable, all-convincing proof of a supernatural religion, the presence of supernatural grace. I cannot but hope and believe that this will be the good that God purposes to give to His church by this trial through which He calls her now to pass. The fires of unbelief, like those of martyrdom, purify the Church. The storm that sweeps the dead wood from the forest, roots deeper the living trees ; and ever, as it strains and tosses them to and fro, sends the life-giving sap through all their branches. And though, as the tempest rages at its highest, we start and tremble as we see some mighty branch ‘snap in the rushing of the river-rain ; ’ yet when “ ‘ The storm, its burst of passion spent, Moaning and calling out of other lands. Has left the ravaged woodland yet once more To peace ’ — as we see how the ‘forest of our Carmel’ still stands, though storm-swept, yet not overthrown, its stately forest-trees still beautiful and strong, deep rooted in the soil, and, beneath their shade, the forest flowers, the humble, hidden forms of grace and beauty which they shade, lifting up their heads again to drink the light and glisten with the dews of heaven ; aye, and as we see how, ever from the roots of many a broken stem, not dead though 398 KING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXI T. wounded nigh to death, there spring the young fresh shoots of a new and vigorous life ; we shall see that even the storm and the tempest may be God’s messengers, and that ‘ He holdeth still the winds in the hollow of His hand.’” Dr. Trench (now Archbishop of Dublin) famous for the elegance of his diction, as well as for the extent of his learning, said, when preach- ing before the University of Cambridge : — “Nor may we suppose that darkness, spiritual darkness at least, is a mere absence of light. It is in itself an evil power and presence in the soul. There is and there can be no vacuum in the heart of man. What the truth does not fill, lies will fill. Who does not obey the one, must obey the other. They are Satan’s slaves who will not be Christ’s freemen, and, in one shape or another, they must do his work and receive his wages. It was boldly said by one of old, ‘All the way to heaven is heaven,’ perhaps over-boldly said by one who forgot, for a moment, what life has of burden and toil even for the faithful man. And yet these words have, their truth, and being true they are true also in their converse. And if all the way to heaven is heaven, God blessing even now with infinite blessings His servants who walk in that way, so too, which is the same truth on its sadder and sterner side, all the way to hell is hell. “ ‘ Vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus Orel Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque senectusi “In that ’‘forlorn ’ old age how powerfully does the great religious poet of Rome put the last terrible touch to his picture, in that single epithet sum- ming up all — the life which is life no longer, the vita non vitalis^ in which all the springs of joy are dried up, in which the man has overlived himself, his joys (and what, perhaps, is sadder still), even his sorrows; — the life, it may be, which, in its outward desolation and abandonment, without honour, without love, is only too faithful an index of that which is within ; — the life from which all the grace and ornament of life has departed, till he that bears it is now weary of it, and desires only to creep by obscure and narrow passages to his grave ! “ Be it ours, brethren, to make this glorious promise, ‘ He that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life,’ our own. For to have the light of life, what is it? It is to be in fellowship with. Him who is at once the Light and the Life of men, and in this fellowship to become more and more a child of light for whom ‘ the darkness is now past ’ — the darkness of a selfish, a proud, an unholy heart — and for whom the ‘ true light ’ now shineth. That light thou mayest make, if thou wilt, more and more thine own, mayest clothe thyself with it, till it be to thee an ‘ armour of light,’ at once a ‘ sun and a shield,’ a glory and a defence. Arrayed in this thou mayest pass unharmed through all the temptations of this world till thou, being brought at length into a ‘ meetness for the inheri- tance of the saints in light,’ shalt stand within the gates of that heavenly city which ‘ needeth neither sun nor moon,’ for the ‘ glory of the Lord doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.’ ” Lect. XXIL] ON ELOCUTION. 399 Dr. Trench delivered also this forcible passage at the close of a sermon on the Atonement : — “ Will any faith which is short of this faith satisfy the deepest needs and cravings of your souls ? You may struggle against it with your under- standings (though I think very needlessly, for it seems to me to approve itself to the reason and the conscience quite as much as to demand accept- ance of our faith), but you will crave it in your inmost spirits. There are times when, perhaps, nothing short of this will save you from a hopeless despair. Let me imagine, for example, one, who with many capacities for a nobler and purer life, and many calls thereunto, has yet suffered himself to be entangled in ‘ youthful lusts,’ has stained himself with these, and then after a while awakens, or rather is awakened, by the good Spirit of God, to ask himself. What have I done 1 How fares it with him at the retrospect then, when he is made to possess (oh fearful possession !) the sins of his youth ? Like a stricken deer — though none but himself may be conscious of his wound, he wanders away from his fellows ; or, if with them, he is alone amongst them ; for he is brooding still and ever upon the awful mystery of evil which he now too nearly knows. And now too all purity — the fearful innocence of children, the holy love of sister and of mother, and the love which he had once dreamed of as better than these, with all which is supremely fair in nature or in art, comes to him with a shock of pain, is fraught with an infinite sadness : for it wakens up in him by contrast a livelier sense of what he is, and what, as it seems, he must be for ever — it reminds him of a paradise for ever lost, the angel of God’s anger guard- ing with a fiery sword its entrance against him. He tries, by a thousand devices, to still, or at least to deaden, the undying pain of his spirit. What is this word ‘ sin ’ that it should torment him so t He will tear away the conscience of it — this poisonous shirt of Nessus, eating into his soul — which, in a heedless moment, he has put on. But no, he can tear away his own flesh, but he cannot tear away that. Go where he may, he still carries with him the barbed shaft which has pierced him — “ ‘ haeret lateri letalis arundo ’ — the arrow which drinks up his spirit. There is no sovereign dittany that will cause it to drop from his side — none, that is, which grows on earth \ but there is which grows in Heaven — and in the Church of Christ, the heavenly enclosure here. And you too, if such a one be among us, may find your peace ; you will find it when you learn to look by faith on Him, ‘the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.’ You will carry, it may be, the scars of those wounds which you have inflicted upon yourself, to your grave, but the wounds themselves He can heal, and heal them altogether. He can give you back ‘ the years which the canker- worm hath eaten,’ the peace which your sin had chased away, and as it seemed to you for ever. ‘ Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean — wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow ; ’ — this will be then your prayer; and this your prayer shall be fulfilled. ‘The blood of sprinkling’ will purge, and you will feel yourself clean. Your sin will no longer be yourself. You will be able to look at it as separated from you, as laid 400 KIiVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. upon another, upon One so strong that He did, but for a moment, stagger under the weight of a world’s sin, and then so bore, that bearing He has borne it away for ever.” The following is the eloquent peroration of a sermon on “ The Spiritual Benefits of Retrospection,” preached from Deuteronomy iv. 9, by the Rev. Chancellor Tisdall, D.D., in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, and reported in “The Church of England Pulpit and Ecclesi- astical Review” — “ Lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have seen : ” — “ If those so addressed could refer their children to the past for lessons of spiritual wisdom, they who are living under the ‘ new and better covenant ’ cannot fail to find counsels, in the retrospect of their experience, to impress upon youthful minds. Of many things ‘ which their eyes have seen ’ may they speak, by way of admonition, upon the one hand, and of encouragement, upon the other. They may tell how they have seen evidences, that the fond hopes of religious parents can be blighted by the ungodliness of children, how they have seen health shat- tered by intemperance, brilliant prospects clouded by yielding to the allure- ments of a world at enmity with God ! They may tell how they have witnessed exemplifications of the truth of those words quoted by an inspired Christian teacher from a heathen author, ‘ Evil communications corrupt good manners ; ’ how from one stage to another of the downward course the infatuated victims of excess have gone, until they rivalled in vice the most abandoned of their associates. Or they may turn from painful to pleasurable reminiscences. They may tell of instances of the beneficial results of ‘ the nurture and admonition ’ in which children were brought up to live for Christ. They may speak of homes lightened by the joy imparted to souls influenced by the grace of God. They may speak, too, of what ‘ their eyes have seen’ in chambers of sickness, when the ‘ time of departure was at hand ; ’ when proof was given, amidst the acute suf- ferings which often attend the approach of dissolution, that the departing felt ‘ the Eternal God ’ to be indeed a ‘ refuge,’ and that ‘ underneath ’ feeble, prostrate, sinking humanity were outstretched ‘ the everlasting arms ; ’ that ‘ no evil was apprehended in the valley of the shadow of death,’ because ‘the rod and the staff’ of superhuman help were present to ‘ comfort.’ They may tell how in no doubtful death, but in one of well- grounded hope of a glorious resurrection, the servant of Christ ‘ fell asleep ’ in Him ; how, as the ‘ outward ’ man lay perishing the ‘ inward ’ was ‘ renewed ; ’ how, in the solemn moments of nature’s weakness, there was absence of fear ; how the stern necessity of dying was not regarded as such, but accepted with thankfulness ; how the enemy was considered to be doing the work of a friend, ‘ delivering out of the miseries of a sinful world,’ consigning to a state of security the soul, to remain in the safe keeping of Him who shall yet enshrine those of all the faithful in bodies fashioned like unto His own, ‘ according to the mighty working whereby He is able to subdue all things unto Himself!’ Turn, then, for instruc- tion to the past^ to the dealings of the All-wise with the Church, and Lect. XXIL] ON ELOCUTION. 401 with yourselves as her members, and teach your descendants to make a like practical use of what may be gathered from the retrospect. The richest heritage to which they can succeed, after you have been laid in the grave, is the memory of your consistency, of your readiness to labour in the cause of Him, who is ‘ made unto all ’ who truly believe upon Him ‘wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption.^ See that, whether or not you have the ability to leave them earthly trea- sure, you bequeath them an example of the influence upon your lives of that faith which ‘purifies the heart, overcomes the world, and w^orks by love.’ Teach them, by precept and example, to live mindful of their Baptismal vows, and then, good reason indeed will they have to think and to speak of you with reverence, and even wfith commendable pride — the pride thus finely described in the lines of a Christian poet — “ ‘ My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, the rulers of the earth, But higher far my proud pretensions rise, The son of parents — passed into the skies.’ ” When preaching at a “ Harvest Thanksgiving Festival,” the same preacher thus spoke of Christian gratitude — “ While, by a thankful use of ‘the means of grace,’ the character essen- tial to the enjoyment of heavenly felicity is formed, it is experienced that present rew'ards attend the exercise of this spirit of thankfulness. There is a happiness associated with the exertion of those powers which a grateful sense of the divine mercies brings into action. There is ‘ the answer of a good conscience toward God.’ There are foretastes, in the pleasure of being empowered to please Him, of that joy which grateful natures shall hereafter experience when there shall be poured out upon them in a measure in which they could not be capable of receiving it in the present life, ‘ the spirit of praise.’ It may well be believed that, when a condition of imperfection shall have been exchanged for one in which no trace of it shall remain, the sense of thankfulness shall become intensified, that as the ‘ children of light ’ survey the ineffable splendours of their por- tion, and think of the unassailable security of the inheritance w'hich they have reached, they shall be conscious of an ever-growing love towards Him for the sake of whose merits they were accounted worthy to enter upon it — that they shall ever deepen in gratitude to Him ‘ who, for the joy that was set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame ; ’ that as their cup of bliss overflows, they shall feel that it is theirs, because there was mingled for Him a cup of such anguish that He prayed that ‘ if it were possible, it might pass from Him ; ’ that their crowns are radiant, because upon His sacred brow there was placed, in derision, one ‘ platted of thorns,’ that they are partakers of endless felicity, because, as the ‘ Captain ’ of their ‘ salva- tion,’ He, that ‘ many sons ’ might be ‘ brought to glory,’ was ‘ made perfect ’ ‘ through sufferings.’” — Extracted from vol. viii., No. 204, of The Church of England Ptilpit and Ecclesiastical Review. LECTURE XXIII. Public Speaking as regards the professional duties of the Barrister or Advocate — Addressing Juries — Common Juries and Special Juries — Addressing the Court — Arguing m Banco — Suggestions in reference to the Preparation of Legal Arguments — The Senate — Speaking in Parliament — Business Speeches — Orations — Mr. Glad- stone’s Opinions on the Training best adapted to form good Speakers — Opening Speech on a Motion of Importance — The Debate — The Reply — Speeches at Elec- tions — Open-air Speaking generally — Injurious Effects often felt by Untrained Speakers — How to Speak in the Open-Air audibly, distinctly, and with comparative personal ease and comfort. N this Lecture my chief object will be to offer a few brief suggestions to students who intend to make the Bar their future profession, though I hope to touch on a few other topics. In the Pulpit of the Church of England there is no absolute necessity for a man being skilled at all in the art of extempore speaking. He may write his sermon out at full length, and if an able and powerful discourse as regards its composition, and read effectually by one who has well studied and practised the art of reading aloud, a sufficiently powerful effect will be produced. But it is very different at the Bar. Here a man must, unless it is his intention to confine himself to what is called ‘‘chamber practice,” know some- thing of the art of exte77ipore speaking. A speech carefully written out and read by an advocate would no more be tolerated in any of our courts of justice than it would be in a member in the Senate. The only extraneous aid the barrister can have recourse to in the course of his address to the court or jury consists in the instructions contained in his brief, the notes he may have made, and the suggestions or reminders that may from time to time be tendered him by the other counsel who are associated with him in the cause. The facility of exte77ipore speech is therefore one of the greatest advantages an advocate can possess. I will assume, then, that the student has, by carrying out some of the suggestions I have already given in preceding Lectures, or by other means, acquired some skill in the art of clothing his thoughts in language on the spur of the moment, and has also gained some little confidence and self-possession by practising at debating societies or other places, where he could find an opportunity, by occasionally speaking. And Lect. XXIIL] KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION, 403 here at the outset let me say a word by way of warning. Debating societies are all very well in their way for the purposes I have alluded to ; but the style of language, and the manner of delivery, which one too commonly meets with at debating societies, would only be laughed at at the bar, and exposb the young advocate to ridicule. Before I received my present appointment here, and devoted myself exclusively to my present vocation as a Lecturer and Teacher of the Art of Public Reading and Speaking, I followed the profession of the Bar, and went on circuit and sessions for several years, and carefully noted all I saw and heard in Westminster Hall as well as at assizes in the country; and certainly the experience I thus gained, enables me to say that the first aim of the young barrister should be to study to make his language clear, simple, and pure, and his manner earnest and impressive. Any- thing like grandiloquence, declamation, poetical flights, and rhetorical appeals, should, as a general rule, be most strictly avoided. The modern taste and general tone of thought and feeling in our English courts of justice are utterly opposed to all useless, declamatory froth, and mere rhetorical display. It is only on very rare occasions that the circumstances of a case afford any just ground for what would be termed any of the higher flights of eloquence. Perspicuity of language and earnestness of manner are in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the chief requisite in an advocate’s address. Remember there is scarcely any, if any, branch of public speaking in which so complete a negation of all apparent mere self-display is so imperatively required as at the English bar. The advocate speaks not for himself, but for the client whom he represents, and his object is, or should be, in his speech to promote to the very utmost of his power, consistently with the general principles of morality, the advantage of his client ; and the interests of his client are served only by what will persuade the jury or convince the court. A very little experience in attending the Nisi Prius and Criminal Courts in London and the provinces, will show you how much common juries differ in character from each other. A skilled advocate is usually a tolerably good physiognomist, and so accustomed to read character in a great degree from the expression of the countenance. The superior mind will in general control or influence the inferior, and your aim as an advocate must be to persuade at all events the former. How can you, then, best discover the superior minds amongst the jury who will have to give their verdict for or against your client ? As I have said already, the characteristic expression which nature stamps upon the countenance is, in general, a pretty sure index to the mental qualities within ; but do not judge by the first glance you take at the twelve men on whom the verdict of the case depends. Watch them closely during the progress of the cause — see how they note, or are affected by, the examination or cross-examination of the various witnesses. If they desire any questions to be put to the witnesses, mark who are the jurymen who do so, and the relevancy or irrelevancy of such questions. All these hints will aid you in finding out who are the intelligent and who are the stupid, who are the obstinate and who most easily impressed, who are calm and patient. 404 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. xxrii. and who hasty, impetuous, or prejudiced. Finding as far as possible what are the mental characteristics of the persons whom you have to address, your aim must be so to frame your speech that not merely the intelligent and patient, but all, may be in the end persuaded or convinced of the truth and justice of your client’s case. In addressing common juries, especially on circuit and at country sessions, I feel assured that the mistake is often committed by young and inexperienced advocates of using a style of language above that of the ordinary use or comprehension of the persons whom they address. If I may use the metaphor, he fails to hit because he shoots over their heads. The language the advocate should study to employ on all such occasions should be marked, as much as possible, by simplicity and purity, and the more he eschews in his speech long or high-sounding words, of Latin derivation, and uses instead, wherever possible, synonyms of Anglo- Saxon origin, the more readily will his uncultivated hearers follow him in his address and be able to comprehend his meaning. It requires but little practice and experience in our courts to see if a jury understand you. I think I may say you will very soon intuitively feel whether they do so or not. There is a certain look of intelligence and attention, even on the face of the most obtuse, that tells us whether the words we utter are conveying definite ideas to the minds that we address, or whether they are sounds, and sounds only, which awaken no interest or sympathy. If possible, make yourself understood by all, by the most stupid as well as the most intelligent of the twelve men in the box before you ; secure and retain their attention as far as you can while you are laying all you have to say before them, and endeavour to close your address before signs of weariness and impatience show that their powers of attention are nearly exhausted. With all popular audiences, but more especially with common juries in London and the provinces, manner^ I am certain, goes a great way ; argument in such cases will often be comparatively wasted, but never manner. An appearance of confidence in your client’s case, an air of good temper, thorough command over yourself in all emergencies, and unexpected turns the case may take, are half the battle with such classes of hearers. The facts in support of your client’s case presented in the strongest and most favourable light, plenty of illustrations, and, when fitting, enlivened by wit, humour, or anecdote, all form powerful weapons in dealing with a common jury in civil or in criminal courts. With a special jury it is different ; and both matter and manner must be adapted to hearers of a superior class of life, wider experience, and higher education, and all that I can say may be summed up in a very few words. Deal with them as you would with any number of gentle- men in the same position of life with yourself. A certain amount of deference in manner with an audience of a superior class is always, I think, judicious, especially at first, but still you may combine with it perfect freedom from all restraint, and, in fact, address them just as a gentleman would address gentlemen. But to know when you have said enough on any topic in your speech, and when to sit down, is an art no less valuable to be acquired in addressing special juries, as in ON ELOCUTION Lect. XXIIL] 405 speaking to the inferior mind and uncultivated intelligence that usually characterise a common jury. But now I come to a very different sphere of your professional duties ; I mean that of carrying on an argument m Banco as it is techni- cally called, or addressing the Courts that is, the judge or judges only. These occasions require a very different tone and manner to that which a counsel would adopt when addressing a jury, whether special or common, and the difference must be always borne in mind. When you address a jury, it may be assumed in general that you are speaking to a body of men, neither well acquainted with the law, nor trained to the logical process of carrying out an argument and drav/ing strict or necessary conclusions. But it is a wholly different matter when you address your- self to the judges that form the Court, whether of law or equity. Here you speak to intellects greater than your own, more experienced in all the subtleties and nice distinctions of legal argument, of wider reading and longer practice in their profession than the majority of the barristers who address them can possibly pretend to possess. In addressing a jury, especially a common jury, it may be often necessary to go more than once over the same ground, to present the same topic under various aspects, and to resort to such other means as will enable you, in your opinion, eventually to enlighten the dullest man before you, and remove the prejudices of the most obstinate. But all this recapitula- tion and variety of treatment and illustration would, in addressing the Court, be worse than useless. Here your chief aims must be a clear and logical arrangement of thoughts, perspicuity of language, and con- densation of important facts and arguments, supported by cases and authorities of weight that bear directly on the points you are discuss- ing. I do not say that the aids which the study of elocution can give are to be neglected here, for all the graces of voice and manner which are appropriate to such occasions cannot but increase the effect of what you are saying if it be sound and good ; but still here, undoubtedly, the manner is quite secondary to the matter. The Court has not to be persuaded \\\iQ a jury, but to be co?tvijiced, and the soundness of your argument, and the logical coherence of reasoning from premises to con- clusions, are the main things to be attended to in the course of your address. I think the suggestion I have offered before when treating of the construction of speeches in general, the young barrister will find useful here, viz., before addressing the Court to set down on paper an outline of the arguments he intends to use, logically arranged in the order in which he proposes presenting them to the Court, with the names of the cases and the books where they are to be found written in the margin opposite those portions in the chain of argument on which they particularly bear. This analytic sketch of the argument will enable the young counsel to test, in no small degree, its soundness and coherence, and at the same time serve to keep him from wandering away into digressions that do not bear upon the questions at issue. The sketch of the argument should be written clearly, and the various heads and subdivisions duly classified and marked with numbers, so that the eye may readily fall upon them, and find in a moment what is KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIIT. 406 wanted. I need hardly say that whilst the language should be terse and perspicuous, the manner should be calm, quiet, and deferential, as it naturally ought to be in addressing men eminent in station and character, and distinguished by learning and ability. I pass on now to a subject on which I can necessarily touch but very briefly, and on which I can only pretend to offer the result of the experience of others — I mean, the oratory of the senate. It has been my good fortune to number amongst the pupils I have had in the Art of Elocution many who have either been, or now are, members of the Legislature, and I have often conversed with them on the subject of the most popular speakers, and the various styles of speaking chiefly adopted in our Houses of Parliament, and the result of the information I have thus gained may be briefly summed up. In both Houses there is much more carried on by mere talking than there is by what is termed regular speech-making, and a member who can talk easily and sensibly, and does not weary his auditors by mere empty platitudes, will almost always carry due weight and receive a patient and attentive hearing. What is most disliked is a mere pretentious speaker, especially if only a recent addition, whose great ambition seems to be constantly addressing the House upon every occasion when he can catch the eye of “Mr. Speaker,” and so see his name in the newspapers next morning. These men come at last to be considered as the mere bores of the House, and fare accordingly. But a new member who does not thrust himself at once upon the notice of the House, but bides his time, and then a fitting opportunity of expressing his views upon some question easily and sensibly, and in a pleasant unaffected manner, will in general meet with attention, and gradually feel his way. The great occasions of debate, such as Reform Bills, Irish Church Bills, &c., are compara- tively rare, and hence the opportunities of hearing a real “ Oration ” from any of our acknowledged great speakers are by no means common. A stranger who is in the habit of taking his seat in the gallery of the House of Commons will find, nine times out of ten, that the business of the evening has been carried on far more by mere talking than regular speech-making. Hence, to talk fluently, pleasantly, and sensibly on a topic, to stand up and say what has to be said in clear and brief lan- guage, and to sit down before there is the least chance of the House being wearied, is as valuable an art there, as it is anywhere else, if not more so, and will almost always meet with its reward in the attention the member will receive on a f^uture occasion. What may be termed business speeches are by far the most frequent of all others in our Houses of Parliament, and their general style may be gathered from a statement of their objects. Their purpose not being to awaken passions or feelings, the aim of the speaker should be, by a calm, clear, well arranged, and unexaggerated statement of facts and arguments, to convince the impartial judgment of the House, and hence all rhetorical flights and passionate appeals would only be wasted, and expose him to ridicule, derisive cheers, and laughter. The language on such occasions cannot be too plain and unadorned, provided it be well chosen and appropriate. The committees of the whole House form Lect. XXIIL] ON ELOCUTION. 407 excellent opportunities for the practice of this kind of speech, and will gradually pave the way to the more ambitious regular set speech or oration. As I have said already, the occasions that arise for a speech of this kind are not so frequent in either House as might be imagined, but when they do arise, formal notice and time for preparation being given, it is expected, and it is well, that the speaker should be thoroughly prepared for the occasion. To make an opening speech on the night of a great debate upon an important question before the Legislature is, perhaps, the most severe ordeal to which any speaker can possibly be exposed. Here the highest mental and physical requisites that are con- cerned in the art of public speaking may well be brought into action. Facts clearly and powerfully stated, arguments elaboratea with logical force and precision, the deductions that legitimately follow shown in their most vivid colours, and in the strongest light — these are the weapons which the orator has to wield upon such occasions : nor these alone — the most powerful appeals, especially in the peroration, to the reason, passions, feelings, and sympathies are all, not merely permissible, but right and proper on great questions of national importance or vital interest to society. The thoughts of the speech cannot be too well matured, nor its plan and mode of treatment too carefully sketched out beforehand, and every aid that the Art of Elocution can lend in the way of delivery may here be well availed of to enforce the general effect of the orator’s address. The distinguished statesman and scholar who at present fills the office of Premier, and who, however much men may differ in opinion as regards his political views, none can deny, holds the highest position as an orator in the House of Commons— I mean, of course, the Right Hon. William Ewart Gladstone — was applied to not long since, as one well qualified to do so, to give his opinion as to what was the best system of mental training to make a good speaker. To this application he very courteously responded in a letter, from which I make the fol- lowing extract, feeling assured of its interest and value : — “ Speaking from my own experience, I think that the public men of England are beyond all others engrossed by the multitude of cares and subjects of thought belonging to a highly diversified empire, and therefore are probably less than others qualified either to impart to others the best methods of preparing public discourses, or to consider and adopt them for themselves. Supposing, however, I were to make the attempt, I should certainly found myself on a double basis, compounded as follows : — first of a wide and general education, which, I think, gives a supple- ness and readiness, as well as firmness of tissue to the mind not easily obtained without this form of discipline ; and secondly, of the habit of constant and searching reflection on the subject of any proposed discourse. Such reflection will naturally clothe itself in words, and of the phrases it supplies, many will spontaneously rise to the lips.” If to make a good opening speech on bringing forward a motion on a subject of high importance to the country, or asking for leave to bring in a bill affecting deeply national or social interests, be confessedly one of the most difficult tasks a man can undertake, perhaps still more diffi- 4o8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIII. cult is it to make a good reply, and it is certainly one of the severest tests of the genius, skill, discretion, and readiness of a parliamentary orator. By the exercise of thought, reading, research, and other forms of preparation, aided by fluent language and an effective delivery, a man of fair capacity may succeed in making a very excellent open- ing speech that will elicit the cheers and admiration of the House. But all this labour and preparation beforehand will avail but little in a reply. This really must be, in the strictest sense of the word, an extempore speech. As the general of an army would watch all the enemy’s movements, and as the battle proceeds carefully note what are the weak positions occupied by him, and the chances he offers for a successful assault being made on any part of his lines ; so should the speaker who has undertaken the all-important task of a reply, carefully follow and make notes of what he deems to be the weak points in the arguments of the different speakers who are opposed to him. In a reply, I think it would be best to take these in their logical order of succession, and so endeavour to show weakness, fallacy, or irrelevancy to the real questions at issue. Save for such notes as he may have made, the man who undertakes a reply must really do so wholly wipromphi^ and his success must depend on his natural and acquired powers of observation, skill to act on the emergency of the moment, and readiness to seize on every opportunity and repel his adversaries’ attacks. As he has the great advantage of knowing that his will be the very last words in the debate, he should especially reserve himself for a powerful peroration, so that when he concludes and resumes his seat, he may have the great advantage, if possible, of having made the last and the most powerful impression upon his audience. So con- fessedly difficult is it to make a good and effective reply, that I think I may safely say, where you will meet with a hundred members who are continually making speeches in the House, you will scarcely meet with ten who will undertake the difficult and responsible task of a reply. There are only a very few more branches of public speaking on which I wish to say a few words, and the first of these is open-air speeches and sermons. Candidates, proposers, and seconders, and other persons, not unfrequently have to address large and often noisy and tumultuous assemblies around the hustings and other places ; and of late years many excellent clergymen of various denominations have adopted the practice of occasionally preaching in the open air. Of all speaking none is so exhausting to the system, especially in the case of the untrained speaker, who is wholly unacquainted with the resources which a study and practice of the art of elocution in its largest sense would lend him, as speaking in the open air. I have myself had pupils who have told me that, before they received instruction in the art, the efforts they made, and the straining their throats suffered in the endeavour — a vain one they found after all — to make themselves well heard by a large audience in the open air, left them often for days afterwards in a state of utter exhaustion and of hoarseness and laryngeal or bronchial irritation. Indeed 1 have known cases where an untrained speaker has, for a day Lect. XXIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 409 or two after a long effort in addressing an assembly in the open air, so completely lost his voice that it was reduced to a mere whisper. Now, for open-air speaking there is no need for any undue muscular effort or straining. All this is worse than useless — it is absolutely injurious to the speaker, and destructive of the result he desires to produce. The great requisites for success in open-air speaking, that is to be both audible and distinct to a large assembly, are, first, a general acquaint- ance with, and some practice in, the principles of the art of elocution, so far as they bear more especially on public speaking ; and then the head, chest, and whole body generally, being placed in the most favourable position, to remember and fully carry out the following golden rules, viz., that the lungs before beginning to speak should be thoroughly filled by a good deep inspiration, taken in the way I have already fully explained in one of my earlier Lectures, so that the air enters the lungs only by the air-passages which conduct from the nostrils ; that the speaker begins at once then, and suffers no air to escape uselessly by the open mouth, and so be wasted ; that he avails himself of every proper pause in his address to thoroughly replenish the lungs by a full inspira tion, and so supply them with a fresh amount of air to replace what has been expended in speaking ; that the mouth be somewhat more open than would be requisite in a moderately-sized hall ; that the vowels be more fully sustained or dwelt on, especially in all syllables or words that are long in point of quantity ; that all the articulating organs that divide the vowel sounds, and so form speech, be used with special energy and due precision of action ; and that the proper action and reaction of the larynx be adequately and regularly maintained, in order to ensure that all-important poise^ on which so much of the success of all public speaking and reading depends. If these suggestions are fully carried out, I think I may safely promise the speaker, even if of moderate physique., that he will succeed in making himself well heard in an open- air meeting, where a man of much more powerful frame and constitu- tion, but wholly unversed in the principles of the art, will only succeed in making a noise, not a speech, distinct and at the same time perfectly audible at a considerable distance. That the human voice may be trained and developed by a sound knowledge of the principles of public speaking, and a gradual and judi- cious exercise of its various powers, so as to acquire a wonderful increase in its strength, volume, and compass, is a proposition that no one who has had any experience can possibly dispute. Clearness of voice, fulness of sound, and distinct articulation, are the chief points to which the attention of the open-air speaker must be directed in order to insure his being well heard at a considerable distance ; and I should advise, at all events, until the attention has been well secured, that he should speak somewhat more slowly and deliberately than he would probably do in a hall or any other covered building. It is impossible, of course, when speaking in the open air, to make use of those varieties of tone and more delicate inflections and modu- lations of the voice which are so effective in a hall or room ; and there- fore a bolder and broader style altogether must be adopted. The Ian- 410 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XXIIT. guage too, on such occasions cannot be too clear, simple, and vigorous. Elaborate arguments, however sound and good, will either be com- paratively unheeded, or utterly thrown away. Statements powerfully enlarged on, facts forcibly put, results and conclusions vigorously driven home, a liberal use of energetic and impressive action, and unfailing self-possession and good temper under all emergencies — • these are the chief requisites to make a man a popular favourite at all public meetings, and ensure success in open-air speaking. LECTURE XXIV. The Vocation of Lecturing — Various Classifications — Educational Lectures gerrerally — > Professional, Technical, Literary, and Scientific Lectures — Suggestions to Lecturers — Hints on “Social Speech-making” — Public Festival and Dinner Speeches — Duties of Chairman at Public Dinners — Proposing Toasts — Loyal and Patriotic Toasts — “The Toast of the Evening” — Returning Thanks — Suggestions in Conclusion. V this, the concluding one of our introductory course of Lectures, I propose dwelling a little on two subjects, viz., the art of lecturing and what I may term social speech- making. As regards lectures, I may observe in the first place, they are becoming every year more and more general in almost every de- partment of life, and are now made the medium for instruction through- out the country far more generally, than they were thirty or forty years ago. At our great universities, at leading colleges and schools, at our Inns of Court, at our various hospitals, at our learned societies, in the metropolis, at our literary and scientific institutions in town and country — lectures meet us everywhere, and consequently numbers are every year being added to the ranks of lecturers in every department of professional and public life. However, even yet, from what I have been informed, I am inclined to think, in proportion to the population, we are still, as regards lectures and lecturers, behind the Americans, in point of numbers, at all events. Lectures may, perhaps, be divided into the following principal classes : — Educational, whether general or technical, professional, such as legal, medical lectures, &c. ; literary, scientific, and artistic lectures. A few general remarks applicable to all these classes are all that I can pretend to offer. Whatever subject he takes up, the lecturer should endeavour thoroughly to master and comprehend it all in its details, so that in his attempt to unfold and explain it to his audience, he may place it before them in all its bearings in the fullest and clearest light. With most lectures, but more especially professional, scientific, techni- cal and artistic lectures, much illustration is needed, for in all probability the great majority come for the purpose of acquiring information, and tht; 412 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. subject therefore may be one with which they may be almost, if not quite, unfamiliar, and can most probably be best explained by comparison with subjects with which they are^ or may reasonably be supposed to be, quite familiar. Such a lecture should have its leading principles well laid down and explained, its strong central points so forcibly put to the audience that they may be easily remembered, and around them the subdivisions and minor points be well grouped together in systematic arrangement ; for if such a lecture consists merely of a series of isolated facts, strung together without any logical order or attempt at proper generalisation, no clear conception of the whole subject can be received, nor can any distinct impression be made on the mind, or properly be retained, so as to serve any useful purpose hereafter. Lectures may be either written and read, or delivered exte7npore with pretty nearly equal effect, if the lecturer is well versed in the general principles of the art of reading aloud, of which I have already said so much, and endeavoured to explain so fully and minutely. Almost all literary lectures are written and read, and as the lecturer does not aim, as the public speaker does most commonly, to excite his hearers to some immediate action, the advantages of exteinpore address are not so neces- sarily called into requisition. Certainly the time given for research and mutual reflection, and all that is needed in the preparation of a good, thoughtful, literary lecture, will tend much to ensure the polish, harmony, and beauty of language which render a theme so treated gratifying to the cultivated ear, as well as attractive and interesting to the mind. There is also a middle course between the reading of the manuscript and the exte7fipo7'e delivering of a lecture, which I know some of our most popular lecturers here and in America always adopt, and some with wonderful success, viz., to carefully prepare and write out the lecture, and then to deliver it 77ie77ioriter with only the aid of a few lead- ing notes, and not always even with this assistance. No doubt this mode does secure the smoothness, compactness, and beauty of the well- written lecture, together with the life, vivacity, and animation which usually and more especially characterise the €xte77ipore discourse. But before adopting it, I think I should advise the young lecturer to have acquired some confidence and self-possession by the practice of facing public audiences for a little time previously, as well as some facility in the art of exte77ipore speaking, so that, should the memory at any time prove treacherous, he may be able easily to recover himself, and by a glance at his notes of leading facts and dates, which, at first, it would be imprudent to neglect having before him, be enabled to gather up the broken chain of ideas and resume his discourse. Scientific and artistic lectures, more particularly such as abound with experiments, diagrams, and other illustrations, are almost always delivered extc77ipore ; and what I have said already in reference to exte77ipore speaking generally will serve, I hope, as useful suggestions towards the preparation and arrangement of a lecture of this description. There can be no doubt that the chief endeavour of a lecturer on any subject should be both to make himself well acquainted with it, and so to present it to his audience that it may be understood as thoroughly as Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 413 it can be in the limit of an hour or an hour and a half, to which time lectures are in general restricted. This, after all, is no such very easy matter, for I think it will be admitted generally it is more difficult to condense properly a large amount of information on any given subject than it is to elaborate and enlarge upon it ; and when reflecting on such difficulty, I have often called to mind the anecdote told of Dr. Johnson’s apologising to a friend for writing him a very long letter on the ground that he really had not time then to write a short one. Of course the mode of treating a lecture as regards alike its composi- tion and delivery, must be adapted to its general subject, but certainly as much animation and variety as can with propriety be introduced, should be fully carried out by the lecturer in his language, as well as in his manner, so as to prevent his audience losing their interest and exhausting their patience and power of attention. I now come to the last subject in which I propose to offer a few brief remarks, viz., what I have classified generally under the name of “social speeches,” by which I mean speeches at public festivals, anniversary banquets, public or private dinners, and other similar occasions. These are frequent enough, for it has been truly said that any event of public or private interest or importance is certain to be commemorated in our country by a dinner or breakfast, on which occasion toasts have to be proposed and thanks returned. You yourselves, gentlemen, in this very college, in the annual dinners at the close of the winter sessions in each year to which you so kindly and courteously invite all your professors and lecturers, admirably follow out this genuine English custom, and I am sure on those festive occasions we have heard within these walls many excellent speeches; and I trust I am not making any invidious distinction when I venture to say that the learned gentleman whom you are all proud to rank among the associates of King’s College (Mr. Edward Clarke, Q.C.), who so ably filled the post of chairman at a recent anniversary dinner, discharged all the duties of his office with an ease, fluency, and courtesy that would really serve as a good model for chairmen at public festivals to follow. But however readily we may admit that the last attribute is very rarely wanting in speakers at social gatherings, are ease and fluency such com- mon attributes ? Is the following description which occurs in a lecture delivered some time ago at the Royal Institution exaggerated or over-coloured, or one but rarely realised? “ I allude to those worthy gentlemen who, without any pretensions to eloquence, may wish to say a few words after dinner, or at a wedding breakfast, or possibly aspire to the platform or the hustings — practical men of well-disciplined and well- stored minds, and possessing a fair command of language in ordinary conversation ; yet when called upon to speak, think, and stand, at the same time, the threefold effort seems too much for their nerves. Self- possession disappears, and the wildest confusion reigns. A sentence is half formed, and then dismissed — a word is used, changed, and recalled — nominatives cannot find their verbs — plurals and singulars are joined in ungrammatical wedlock — the head of one period is tacked to the body of another and the tail of a third — premises are laid down from 414 XING^S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. which no conclusions are drawn, and conclusions appear, ushered in by vehement ‘ therefores ’ from non-existent premises.’'* Well may the American divine. Dr. Channing, say, as he does in his essay on “Self Culture,” that a man who cannot open his lips without breaking a rule of grammar, without showing in his dialect, or brogue, or uncouth tones his want of cultivation, or without darkening his meaning by a confused or unskilful mode of communication, cannot take the place to which, perhaps, his native good sense entitles him. Call to mind the public dinners — or indeed any dinners where toasts have been proposed and thanks returned, whether public or private — which you may have attended in the last six or twelve months, and then tell me if the great majority of the speakers were not characterised by vacuity of thought, confusion of ideas, or incoherence of language. I certainly think, from my travels abroad, that in respect to social speech-making we are in general far behind other countries. I have attended many Public Festivals and Literary and other Societies’ dinners in foreign lands, and I have certainly never once witnessed any in- stance approaching the failures or “ break-downs ” which but too often pain us here. No doubt it is a much more difficult thing than most persons imagine to deliver a good after-dinner speech with ease and fluency of language, and becoming geniality of manner. Let any man who has had no experience in the construction of an extempore speech, however short, and is unversed in the art of “thinking on his legs,” be called on suddenly at some public or private festival to propose a toast or return thanks, and in nine cases out of ten he will find it by no means such an easy task as he fancied it to be till he rose from his seat, and the eyes of all the guests were bent on him in mute attention. But if a man of fair average abilities will only take the trouble to make himself acquainted with the leading principles that govern the construction of any extempore discourse, and consent to undergo some little amount of training in its practice, he may rest assured he will in a comparatively short time be enabled to play his part, fairly enough, on all such occasions of public or private festivity. At all public dinners, whether for some charitable, benevolent, political, or any other purpose, the chief burden of the duties of the evening rests upon the chairman, and upon his efficient performance much of the general success of the evening depends. Some nobleman or gentleman is usually chosen for this office who is either eminent in rank or social reputation, or is known to take a warm interest in the charity or other special object for which the festival is held. It is needless to say that, like a chairman at any public meeting, he pre- serves order, and his decisions on any matter are obeyed as the law of the company. He always occupies the chief place at the principal table, and is supported on either side by the principal visitors who are present ; and when it is what is termed a complimentary dinner — that is, a dinner given in honour of some distinguished individual — * “The Study of the English Language,*’ by the Rev. A. J. D. D’Orsey. London: Eell and Daldy. ON ELOCUTION. Lect. XXIV.] 415 such “guest of the evening,” as he is called, is always placed on the right hand of the chairman. At the conclusion of the banquet, the chairman’s first duty is to go through in succession, with but brief intervals between each, the task of proposing what are usually summed up as the loyal and patriotic toasts. These toasts, it is superfluous to say, at the present time, are the Queen, the Prince and Princess of Wales, and the rest of the Royal Family, and the Army, Navy, and Volunteers. A few well-chosen words in reference to the royal toasts are all that are needed. A few expressions of well-deserved eulogy in each of these cases are all that are expected, but any graceful allusion to some passing act of royal kindness or benevolence, or any incidents that may have recently happened in royal life, may with great propriety be introduced and briefly touched on. Sometimes, and especially when there happens to be a prelate pre- sent, the toast of the Church, and Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese, is added. On these occasions it is usual to dwell at some little length on the position of the Church in her domestic and colonial relationships, and to advert to any special movements that may have lately taken place for the purpose of extending her influence and widening her sphere of usefulness, such as Church extension, mis- sionary enterprises at home and abroad, &c. The bishop present (if there be one), or the chaplain of the particular society in whose aid the festival is held, or the principal clergyman in point of rank, is usually coupled with the toast and called upon to return thanks, and in doing so he generally touches upon the chief points in connection with Church matters that have been adverted to in introducing the toast. Following upon this usually comes the toast of the Army, Navy, and Volunteers, and a glance at the newspaper reports of any public dinner will show that the mode of dealing with it is, with small varia- tion, almost always the same. Allusion to the warm welcome with which such a toast is always received in any company of Englishmen, and the conviction of the speaker that such a reception is what the services are justly entitled to, is in general the formal introduction, and then any particular events in which they have been lately con- cerned are commonly glanced at, and the names of the most distin- guished officers who may be present are coupled with the toast, and they are asked to acknowledge it. This is by no means a difficult task, and it is one that is, for the most part, very briefly performed by thanking the company warmly for the reception accorded to the toast, and assuring them they will ever be found anxious to discharge to the utmost the important duties confided to them as the defenders of their country, and the upholders of her honour and glory. At political banquets we always have next the toasts of the Houses of Lords and Commons, not unfrequently coupled together, and always associated with the names of members of either House, when such are present. The speeches delivered at this part of the ceremonial are always of some length, and of course vary considerably, according 4i6 KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. to the political feeling of the assembly, and the important measures that have been passed during the course of the Session. They are always enlarged on by the speaker who proposes the toast, and of course the members of Parliament who return thanks travel nearly over the same ground in doing so, and dwell on the soundness of the principles that have actuated their political conduct, and endeavour to show how they must promote the welfare and happiness of the country at large. Of late years a custom has sprung up, and promises to become still more general, of members during each recess meeting their constituents, either at a public dinner or public meeting, and there giving a full “ account of their stewardship,” so that even the most silent members of the House must on these occasions make a tolerably long speech, and be prepared for it accordingly ; besides, also having very probably to answer, hnpromptu and at length, a great variety of questions, political and otherwise, that may be put to them in reference to their conduct, speeches, or votes during the Session. After the loyal and patriotic toasts, we usually have at philanthropic and complimentary dinners what is denominated as “ the toast of the evening,” and for this the chairman usually reserves all his powers, to make it as effective as possible, as regards alike composition and delivery. At the former class of dinners, “ the toast of the evening” is the particular Institution, Society, or other charity in aid of which the festival is being held. The chairman, as a rule, should begin with a good, commendatory introduction, delivered simply and effectively. He may then enter at some length into the history of the origin and progress of the Institution or Society for which he pleads, show the benevolent objects that were contemplated at its first establishment, and how these have been achieved, and what general good has been or is now being effected in various ways through its instrumentality. If obstacles have been encountered in consequence of apathy, novelty of the object, prejudice, want of adequate funds or personal support, he may very properly advert at length to all or any of them that exist, and show how such obstacles have been overcome, or may yet probably be eventually surmounted. As such banquets are chiefly held for the purpose of raising funds to free the Institution or Society from encumbrances, or still further to promote its efficiency, its present financial position always forms a topic of comment, and the leading features of its annual report afford a further subject of observation. All these lead naturally up to the peroration, which is almost invariably an appeal to the company and the general public for assistance and support in the shape of donations and subscriptions, and the exercise of personal and local influence. It is needless to say that in proposing the toast of the evening ” the speaker should endeavour by all the aids that rhetoric and good elocution can give to make it as eloquent and effective as possible. In what I have called ‘‘ complimentary dinners ” — by which term I mean dinners given in honour of some particular individual who has acquired pre-eminence and distinction by the services he has rendered, or the reputation he has won in science, art, literature, &c. — “the toast Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 417 of the evening” is the health of the guest so specially honoured. To propose this well seems to me one of the most delicate, difficult, and responsible tasks that can devolve upon a chairman. Of course, the very character and object of the banquet necessarily implies that the speech must be one of eulogy of the guest in whose honour it is given. To praise well — that is, steering between the two extremes of not saying enough in a man’s praise on such occasions, and of allowing such praise to degenerate into gross adulation and fulsome flattery — is after all no such very easy task. It has been truly said that all men are open to flattery, more or less, and when we think we hate flattery, all that w^e hate is the awkwardness of the flatterer. Now, in plain language, in proposing “ the guest of the evening,” however well deserving of high eulogy he may be, the speech must necessarily be one of flattery, and upon the grace, delicacy, and skill with which such flattery is applied, will the success of the speech chiefly depend. One of the best speeches of this kind that I ever had the pleasure of listening to, was that delivered by the late Lord Lytton on the occasion of his presiding at the banquet given to our lamented great novelist and humorist, Charles Dickens, prior to his departure for America. As far as regards elegance of language and skill and taste in composition, it struck me as being quite a model for all such speeches. Nor was the acknowledgment in answer, on the part of the eminent guest who was the object of so much well-won eulogy and honour, less worthy of praise and imitation as regarded alike its composition and admirable delivery. It is only a few suggestions that I can offer in reference to the com- position of a speech of this character, and those only of the most general description j for, of course, the special individual eminence in arts, arms, science, literature, or philanthropy of the guest honoured by a festival of this nature, must be the guide to the leading features of the speech of the chairman on such an occasion. A graceful allusion to the object for which the company have assembled, and a modest self-depreciation of the powers of the speaker to render adequate justice to the theme with which he has to deal, may form a very proper exor- dium to such a speech, and is what is almost always adopted on such occasions, however experienced and eloquent the speaker may really be. The importance and usefulness of the particular science, art, or pro- fession, &c., which the guest of the evening has adorned, or the services he may have rendered to his country or humanity, may then be very properly introduced and enlarged upon at considerable length. A sketch of the leading incidents in the life and public career of the person whom they are met to honour usually follows, and its material points are dwelt on more or less fully ; and the whole should conclude with warm, but just eulogy of his talents, conduct, and character in the sphere in which he has acquired fame and distinction. The speech that follows in acknowledgment of the toast on the part of the honoured guest is in no way inferior in importance to that of the chairman in proposing it, and certainly not less difficult a duty to be effectively discharged. If his health is considered as “the toast of the 2 D 4iS KING’S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. evening,” his speech in answer is always regarded as emphatically by the whole assembly as “the speech of the evening.” Among the many public dinners given to distinguished statesmen, artists, men of letters, and others, at which I have been present, I have not met with one in which the guest of the evening did not begin by expressing in earnest words his deep gratitude for the reception given him, and lament his inability to find language that could adequately render his feelings of thankfulness at such a moment. After some pre- fatory remarks of this mature, calculated to enlist the sympathy and indulgence of the audience, it is usual for the speaker to dwell at some length on his personal or professional career, and more especially such circumstances as have led to the crowning honour of the evening, and in the best way he can, express his feelings of gratitude for the distinc- tion conferred upon him. It is almost needless to say that upon the mode of dealing with “ the toast of the evening,” which the chairman has adopted in proposing it, much of the guest’s answer must neces- sarily depend, but all the leading topics which have been introduced by the former may very appropriately be adverted to and commented on by the latter, and a good peroration expressive of the warmth and depth of his gratitude is more especially desirable. Other toasts then usually succeed, and each of these, whether per- sonal or representative, must of course, as regards its composition and arrangement, depend on the nature of its subject. The health of the chairman is usually proposed early in the evening, and in cases of what I have termed complimentary dinners, almost always directly after the honoured guest has returned thanks and resumed his seat. The indi- vidual to whom is entrusted the task of proposing the toast of “ the chairman,” at important public dinners, is invariably some nobleman or gentleman of political, professional, or social distinction, and it is always regarded as one of the principal speeches of the evening. It is generally made, if possible, an occasion for the display of some eloquence and warmth of feeling, and a considerable amount of personal eulogy ; for, in fact, the speaker has to perform towards the chairman very much the same kind of duty that the chairman has just discharged in reference to the guest of the evening, on the occasion of a complimentary dinner ; and most of the suggestions I have offered in regard to the one case, will be equally applicable to the other. I have remarked, at nearly all the great public dinners at which I have been present, it seemed to me that the aim of the chairman in returning thanks was to make his speech as brief and as effective as possible. The toast of “the Ladies” is always the last on the programme, and winds up the proceedings of the evening. It is necessarily always a brief speech, like the response to it, and both are almost always made, if possible, occasions more for the display of a little graceful humour, gaiety, and badinage, mingled of course with a few complimentary expressions in reference to the sex generally, than anything else. I have now completed my outline of the speeches usually made at our public dinners. They vary necessarily in some particulars, accord- ing to the special character of the occasion which brings the company Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 419 together, but the foregoing sketch may, I think, be taken as more or less generally applicable to all. It is superfluous for me to say that my brief suggestions are not intended to apply to speakers of any practice or experience, but only as hints, as helps or materials for thought, to be further and more fully developed by young or untried speakers who may at any time be called on to take an active part at these public or private festivals, at which certainly nearly all our social oratory is usually heard, and which may serve as a school for practice, contribute to give ease, confidence, and self-possession, and prove a good introduction to higher and more ambitious efforts. APPENDIX I. Remarks on Orthoepy, and the rules laid done by various writers on Pronunciation ; — I. The tendency of compound words to shorten the Vowel which is long in the primitives. 2. The shortening tendency of the Antepenultimate Accent. 3. The shortening tendency of the Secondary Accent. 4. The shortening tendency of the past tense. 5. The power of w over the subsequent vowel. 6. The aspirated hissing of t, d, s, z, x, and soft c. 7. Faulty pronunciation of accented vowels. 8. Pronunciation of tinaccenied syllables. 9. Allowable fluctuation in the sound of some unaccented vowels and diphthongs. 10. Faulty pronunciation of unaccented vowels. II. Suppression of unaccented vowels where they should be sounded ; and the opposite error — The termination ed in the past tense and participle. 12. The termination el. 13. The termination en. 14. The termination il, in. 15. The termination on. 16. Suppressing the vowel-sound in the termination tion and sion. 17. Suppressing t when between two Tj, &c. 18. Suppressing h where it ought to be sounded, and vice vers A. 19. Suppressing h before w ; also vashr ; and in the termination M. 20. Sounding r too strongly or too feebly. 21. Suppressing the sound of final consonants. 22. The terminational ng — Guidance in pronunciation — Alphabetical list of words occurring in the Sacred Scriptures and the Liturgy to be pronounced according to the authority of Walker and others. ADD, by way of appendix, some general remarks on the pronunciation of words in the English language, more particularly in regard to those which are most frequently liable to mispronunciation, and on which orthoepists of eminence have expressed an opinion. In the summary that follows I have adopted, with some slight exceptions, Mr. How- lett’s views, but I have also, in reference to words in which we find different modes of pronunciation prevalent, consulted and maturely weighed the dicta of such writers as Walker, Webster, Latham, Perry, Morrell, &c. Deviations from the common usage of speaking arrest the attention of the higher classes of society, interrupt the current of thought, and turn it from the matter to the manner — from the meaning of the words to the pronunciation of them. This consideration gives to the subject an importance which will influence the student who is anxious to per- form his duty in every respect, and towards all classes of hearers, to the best of his ability ; and may, perhaps, induce him to devote a little time to the perusal of the following pages, in which are incorporated some of the remarks and rules of various eminent writers on the subject of pro- nunciation. Appendix I.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 421 Dr. Johnson’s general rule, that “ those are to be considered as the most elegant speakers who deviate least from the written words,” has been justly censured by Mr. Walker. It has already led to much inno- vation, and, in many cases, produced diversity of pronunciation where previously there was uniformity. For example, those who are guided by the spelling, sound the final unaccented vowel distinctly in heaven., open, evil, reckon, reason, &c., in which words it formerly was always suppressed. They likewise sound the a distinctly in the terminations of such words as noMemati, combat, &c., instead of adopting the obscure, intermediate, neutral sound which approximates to the sound of ii. They also give to some consonants in certain situations their alphabetic sounds, instead of admitting after them that liquid sibilation which constitutes an analogy that runs through the language ; thus they say vir-itie for vir-tshue, na-ture for na-tshure, censure for censhure, &c. By following the above-mentioned principle, these discrepancies of pronunciation must increase to an infinite extent, because the words in most common use are those which are pronounced with the widest deviation from the spelling. Instead, therefore, of admitting a rule which tends to make “ confusion worse confounded,” Walker recommends that the analogies and tendencies of the language should be studied, as the best guides in orthoepy. But as Johnson’s rule is much more easily adopted than Walker’s, it is not surprising that the former should have more followers ; among whom, it is very natural that young clergymen should be included, particularly at the commencement of their professional labours. Hence are heard extraordinary changes in the pronunciation even of the most common words in the Church Service, in defiance of decided custom : thus, bu-rial, apos-ile, epis-tle, folk, idol, covet, covenant, &c., &c., are fre- quently sounded exactly according to the spelling, instead of being sounded in the usual manner, as if they were spelt thus : bei'-ri-al, apossl, epissl (the /silent in both these words), idul, cuv-et, cuv-e-nant, &c., &c. If the learned Lexicographer’s principle were adopted, what strange changes in pronunciation would be required in reading the following sentences, in which none of the words printed in italics are sounded according to the spelling : — The common usage of English people in talking their native tongue proves that they do not trouble themselves as to the spelling of the words. It surely is an evil custom, and savours of affectation, to talk otherwise than their fathers , mothers, brothers, and relations have talked. If the professors of colleges and other places of education would give their attention to the principles of English pronunciation, they would see reason not to sanction the fashion pronouncing many common words in unusual ways — sounding the final syllables exactly as they are spelt in evil, devil ; heaven, leaven ; heathen, even ; reason, season ; beacon, deacon ; often, softly, &c., &c. “ No man,” * says the ingenious author of “ The Theory of Elocu- tion,” has a right to question any customary manner of sounding a word who is unacquainted with the general rules that secretly influence custom. Should the investigation necessary for arriving at these data be deemed too laborious, then let it not be thought too much to follow Smart’s “ Theory,” &c., p. 43. 422 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix I. implicity an orthoepist like Walker, who really had made the investiga- tion ; excepting only in those cases in which to agree with him would be to violate indubitable usage — cases which will sometimes occur from the variation of usage since his Dictionary was written.” But where is this usage to be learned ? Partly from the writers on orthoepy — Perry, Jameson, Knowles, Smart, Richardson, and Webster. Walker’s remark, also, will serve to guide us : “ Neither a finical pronunciation of the court, nor a pedantic Grecism of the schools, will be denominated re- spectable usage till a certain number of the general mass of speakers have acknowledged them ; nor will a multitude of common speakers authorise any pronunciaton which is reprobated by the learned and polite.” Though Pronouncing Dictionaries are in every one’s hand, still some advantage may be derived from bringing into one view what Walker (with whose opinions all modern orthoepists generally agree) considered to be some of the remarkable tendencies which prevail in the pronun- ciation of the language.* REMARKABLE TENDENCIES OF PRONUNCIATION. 1. — Compound and derivative words generally shorten the vowel which is long in the primitive words : thus, heroine from hero^ Christian from Christ, vineyard from vine-yard, Christmas from Christ-mass, Michaelmas from Michael-mass, breakfast from break-fast, forehead from fore-head ; meadoiv from mead, primer from prime, knowledge from know, nothing from no, &c. 2. — The antepenultimate accent generally shortens the vowel when a single consonant, or two that are proper to begin a syllable, intervene between it and the next vowel : thus, nature, natural; parent, parentage ; henal, penalty ; Simon, simony ; globe, globular ; patron, patronage ; metre, metrical ; sacred, sacrifice, sacraments, &:c. Exception (a). — U is never thus shortened : thus, cube, cubical ; music, musical ; lunar, lunary ; humour, humorous. Exception (b). — The antepenultimate accent does not shorten the vowel (unless that vowel be i) when the following syllable has in it a proper diphthong beginning with e or i, as ei, eo, ia, ie, io, iu, eou, or iou : — Ex. A-theist, me-teor, me-diate, a-lien, occasional, me-dium, outra-geous, harmonious. But so great a propensity (says Mr. Walker) have vowels to shrink under this accent, that the diphthong in some words, and analogy in others, are not sufficient to prevent it : thus, valiant, retaliate, national, rational. 3. — The secondary accentf in derivative words generally shortens the * The student may consult with great advantage Smart’s “Practical Grammar of English Pronunciation,” a work which deserves to be generally known. t The secondary accent is that stress which is occasionally placed in words of foul or more syllables upon some other syllable besides that which has the principal accent. Thus, accent is placed on the first syllable of conversation, commendation, besides the principal one on the third syllable, when the word is not preceded by an accented syllable. But when it is so preceded, the secondary accent is not used : thus, polite co7tversdlion, great commendation. Appendix I.] ON ELOCUTION, vowel which is long, though unaccented, in the primitive word^H^nce the first vowel which is lengthened in de-prwe, re-peat^ profane^ short, through the influence of the secondary accent, in dep'-riva' rep' -eii" -Hon., prof -and' -iio7t. (a) The exceptions to this effect of the secondary accent are similar to those which take place under the antepenultimate accent : viz., when u occurs; as luciih'ate, lucubrd' Hon, pu-rify, piiri-fica" Hon ; or when the following syllable contains a semi-consonant diphthong beginning with e or i (see exception (b) under the antepenultimate accent) : thus the long e in de-viate, me-diate, continues long in cte-viation, nie-diation, nie-diator. 4 . — The past tense frequently shortens the vowel which is long in the present tense : thus, Mtlxom bite ; said from say ; read from read ; and heard from hear. 5 . — W has a peculiar power over the sound of the succeeding vowel : hence the sound given to the 0 in worm, word, and the broad sound given to the a in water, wan, quantity fzwontiiy), quality [kwoWty), qualify {kwoYiiy), &c. The u which always follows q is sounded like w ; and as w always communicates a broad sound to a in the syllables al and ant when under the accent, analogy clearly requires that the broad sound should be adopted in quality, qualify, quantity, &c, 6 . — An aspirated hissing is given to t, d, s, z, and soft r,* imme- diately after the accent (either primary or secondary), and before proper diphthongs beginning with e or i ; likewise often before u. (a) T is sounded like sh in the combinations Ha, Hal, tiaii. Hate, tieiit, Hence, Hon, tious ; as in minuticE, partial, partiality, tertial, expatiate, patient, patience, nation, captious, &c. (b) 7’ is sounded like tcli, in the combinations teous, tue, tuous, tual, tune, ture, tute ; likewise when t follows j-, n, x, as in righteous, virtue, vir- tuous, spiritual, fortune, nature, statute ; bestial, question, frontier, admix- ture, &c. “ This pronunciation of t extends to every word in which the diph- thong or diphthongal sound begins with i or e, except in the termination of verbs and adjectives, which preserve the simple in the augment with- out suffering the t to go into the hissing sound : as, I pity, thou pitiest, he pities ox pitied; mightier, worthier, twentieth, thirtieth, &c. This is agreeable to the general rule, which forbids adjectives or verbal termin- ations to alter the sound of the primitive verb or noun.” — Walker. (c) D is sounded like j in soldier, grandeur, verdtire. (d) S is sounded like sh in the combinations seate, sient, sion, sure, sue ; as in nauseate, traiisieiit, uimensioti, censure, issue, &c. (e) S is sounded like zh when preceded, by a vowel or vowel-sound ; as in occasion, Ephesians, pleasu7'e, &c. (f) Z is sounded like zh in glazier, g7'azier, azure, razure. (g) X is sounded like ksh in flexion, crucifixion, anxious. Sic. * On minutely considering the position of the organs of speech when pronouncing these consonants and vowels, it appears that this sibilation promotes ease of utterance. See Walker’s “Principles,” art. 459; also Smart’s “Practical Grammar of English Pronunciation,” pp. 68, 212. 424 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix 1 . (h) C is sounded like sh in ocean^ testaceous^ social^ associate^ and in similar combinations. (i) N.B. It must be carefully remembered that the foregoing remarks are restricted to the case of unaccented syllables. When the accent falls on the vowel immediately after t, d, s, x, and soft c, those letters retain their proper sound : as satiety^ tune ; endure^ due ; pursue, suicide, suit ; anxiety ; society. The only exceptions are sugar and sure with their compounds. 7. FAULTY PRONUNCIATION OF ACCENTED VOWELS AND DIPHTHONGS. The irregular sound of 0, as heard in the words dove, love, &c., is frequently disregarded by those who think themselves bound to follow the spelling. Such speakers require to be reminded that 0, when under the accent and followed by m, n, v, or th, very frequently has the above-mentioned short sound of u as in cub. This pronunciation is required in c^ 7 mfort, C( 7 mpany, among, md 7 ngrel, m(?nger, t^n, t^^ngue, &c. ; c^vet, c