In words of more than two syllables, there is often a second accent given, but more slight than the principal one, and this is called the secondary accent; as, em"igra'tion, rep"artee', where the principal accent is marked ('), and the secondary, ("); so, also, this accent is obvious, in nav"iga'tion, com"prehen'sion, plau"sibil'ity, etc. The whole subject, however, properly belongs to dictionaries and spelling books.
Emphasis consists in uttering a word or phrase in such a manner as to give it force and energy, and to draw the attention of the hearer particularly to the idea expressed.
This is most frequently accomplished by an increased stress of voice laid upon the word or phrase. Sometimes, though more rarely, the same object is effected by an unusual lowering of the voice, even to a whisper, and not unfrequently by a pause before the emphatic word.
The inflections are often made subsidiary to this object. To give emphasis to a word, the inflection is changed or increased in force or extent. When the rising inflection is ordinarily used, the word, when emphatic, frequently takes the falling inflection; and sometimes, also, the falling inflection is changed into the rising inflection, for the same purpose.
Emphatic words are often denoted by being written in italics, in SMALLCAPITALS, or in CAPITALS.
Much care is necessary to train the pupil to give clear and expressive emphasis, and at the same time to avoid an unpleasant "jerky" movement of the voice.
Where the emphasis is independent of any contrast or comparison with other words or ideas, it is called absolute emphasis.
1. We praise thee, O God; we acknowledge thee to be the Lord.
2. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean—roll!
3. Arm, warriors, arm!
4. You know that you are Brutus, that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
5. Hamlet. Saw, who?Horatio. The king, your father.Hamlet. The king, my father?
6. Strike—till the last armed foe expires;Strike—for your altars and your fires;Strike—for the green graves of your sites;God, and your native land!
Where there is antithesis, either expressed or implied, the emphasis is called relative.
1. We can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth.
2. But I am describing your condition, rather than my own.
3. I fear not death, and shall I then fear thee?
4. Hunting men, and not beasts, shall be his game.
5. He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.
6. It may moderate and restrain, but it was not designed to banish gladness from the heart of man.
In the following examples, there are two sets of antitheses in the same sentence.
7. To err is human, to forgive, divine.
8. John was punished; William, rewarded.
9. Without were fightings, within were fears.
10. Business sweetens pleasure, as labor sweetens rest.
11. Justice appropriates rewards to merit, and punishments to crime.
12. On the one side, all was alacrity and courage; on the other, all was timidity and indecision.
13. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the fool, when he gains the applause of others.
14. His care was to polish the country by art, as he had protected it by arms.
In the following examples, the relative emphasis is applied to three sets of antithetic words.
15. The difference between a madman and a fool is, that the former reasons justly from false data; and the latter, erroneously from just data.
16. He raised a mortal to the skies,She drew an angel down.
Sometimes the antithesis is implied, as in the following instances.
17. The spirit of the white man's heaven, Forbids not thee to weep.
18. I shall enter on no encomiums upon Massachusetts.
When words, which are the same in part of their formation, are contrasted, the emphasis is expressed by accenting the syllables in which they differ. See Accent, page 33.
1. What is the difference between probability and possibility?
2. Learn to unlearn what you have learned amiss.
3. John attends regularly. William, irregularly.
4. There is a great difference between giving and forgiving.
5. The conduct of Antoninus was characterized by justice and humanity; that of Nero, by injustice and inhumanity.
6. The conduct of the former is deserving of approbation, while that of the latter merits the severest reprobation.
Emphasis sometimes changes the inflection from the rising to the falling, or from the falling to the rising. For instances of the former change, see Rule II, and Exception 1 to Rule IV. In the first three following examples, the inflection is changed from the rising to the falling inflection; in the last three, it is changed from the falling to the rising, by the influence of emphasis.
1. If we have no regard for religion in youth', we ought to have respect for it in age.
2. If we have no regard for our own' character, we ought to regard the character of others.
3. If content can not remove' the disquietudes of life, it will, at least, alleviate them.
4. The sweetest melody and the most perfect harmony fall powerless upon the ear of one who is deaf',
5. It is useless to expatiate upon the beauties of nature to one who is blind',
6. And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because they are brethren'; but rather let them do them service.
When it is desired to give to a phrase great force of expression, each word, and even the parts of a compound word, are independently emphasized.
1. Cassius. Must I endure all this? Brutus. All this!—Ay,—more. Fret, till your proud—heart—break.
2. What! weep you when you but beholdOur Caesar's vesture wounded? Look ye here,Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors.
3. There was a time, my fellow-citizens, when the Lacedaemonians were sovereign masters, both by sea and by land; while this state had not one ship—no, NOT—ONE—WALL.
4. Shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul; and not only of the Alpine nations, but of the Alps themselves; shall I compare myself with this HALF—YEAR—CAPTAIN?
5. You call me misbeliever—cutthroat—dog.Hath a dog—money? Is it possible—A cur can lend three—thousand—ducats?
A short pause is often made before or after, and sometimes both before and after, an emphatic word or phrase,—thus very much increasing the emphatic expression of the thought.
1. May one be pardoned, and retain—the offense?In the corrupted currents of this world,Offense's gilded hand may shove by—justice;And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itselfBuys out the law: but 't is not so—above:There—is no shuffling: there—the action liesIn its true nature.
2. He woke to hear his sentries shriek,"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!He woke—to die—midst flame and smoke."
3. This—is no flattery: These—are counselorsThat feelingly persuade me what I am.
4. And this—our life, exempt from public haunt,Finds tongues—in tree, books—in the running brooks,Sermons—in stones, and—good in everything.
5. Heaven gave this Lyre, and thus decreed,Be thou a bruised—but not a broken—reed.
In reading verse, the inflections should be nearly the same as in reading prose; the chief difference is, that in poetry, the monotone and rising inflection are more frequently used than in prose. The greatest difficulty in reading this species of composition, consists in giving it that measured flow which distinguishes it from prose, without falling into a chanting pronunciation.
If, at any time, the reader is in doubt as to the proper inflection, let him reduce the passage to earnest conversation, and pronounce it in the most familiar and prosaic manner, and thus he will generally use the proper inflection.
1. Meanwhile the south wind rose, and with black wingsWide hovering', all the clouds together droveFrom under heaven': the hills to their supply',Vapor and exhalation dusk and moistSent up amain': and now, the thickened skyLike a dark ceiling stood': down rushed the rainImpetuous', and continued till the earthNo more was seen': the floating vessel swamUplifted', and, secure with beake'd prow',Rode tilting o'er the waves'.
2. My friend', adown life's valley', hand in hand',With grateful change of grave and merry speechOr song', our hearts unlocking each to each',We'll journey onward to the silent land';And when stern death shall loose that loving band,Taking in his cold hand, a hand of ours',The one shall strew the other's grave with flowers',Nor shall his heart a moment be unmanned'.My friend and brother'! if thou goest first',Wilt thou no more revisit me below'?Yea, when my heart seems happy causelessly',And swells', not dreaming why', my soul shall knowThat thou', unseen', art bending over me'.
3. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth',A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown';Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth',And Melancholy marked him for her own'.
4. Large was his bounty', and his soul sincere',Heaven did a recompense as largely send';He gave to misery (all he had) a tear',He gained from heaven' ('t was all he wished') a friend'.
5. No further seek his merits to disclose',Or draw his frailties from their dread abode';(There they alike' in trembling hope repose',)The bosom of his Father, and his God'.
In reading verse, every syllable must have the same accent, and every word the same emphasis as in prose; and whenever the melody or music of the verse would lead to an incorrect accent or emphasis, this must be disregarded.
If a poet has made his verse deficient in melody, this must not be remedied by the reader, at the expense of sense or the established rules of accent and quantity. Take the following:
O'er shields, and helms, and helme'd heads he rode,Of thrones, and mighty Seraphim prostrate
According to the metrical accent, the last word must be pronounced "pros-trate'." But according to the authorized pronunciation it is "pros'trate. Which shall yield, the poet or established usage? Certainly not the latter.
Some writers advise a compromise of the matter, and that the word should he pronounced without accenting either syllable. Sometimes this may be done, but where it is not practiced, the prosaic reading should be preserved.
In the following examples, the words and syllables which are improperly accented or emphasized in the poetry, are marked in italics. According to the principle stated above, the reader should avoid giving them that pronunciation which the correct rending of the poetry would require, but should read them as prose, except where he can throw off all accent and thus compromise the conflict between the poetic reading and the correct reading. That is, he must read the poetry wrong, in order to read the language right.
1. Ask of thy mother earth why oaks are madeTaller and stronger than the weeds they shade.
2. Their praise is still, "the style is excellent,"The sense they humbly take upon content.
3. False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,Its fairy colors spreads on every place.
4. To do aught good, never will be our task,But ever to do ill is our sole delight.
5. Of all the causes which combine to blindMan's erring judgment, and mislead the mind,What the weak head with strongest bias rulesIs pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
6. Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,And catch the manners living as they rise.
7. To whom then, first incensed, Adam replied,"Is this thy love, is this the recompenseOf mine to thee, ungrateful Eve?"
8. We may, with more successful hope, resolveTo wage, by force or guile, successful war,Irreconcilable to our grand foe,Who now triumphs, and in excess of joySole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.
9. Which, when Beelzebub perceived (than whom,Satan except, none higher sat), with graveAspect, he rose, and in his rising seemedA pillar of state.
10. Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow,Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget,Those other two equaled with me in fate.
NOTE.—Although it would be necessary, in these examples, to violate the laws of accent or emphasis, to give perfect rhythm, yet a careful and well-trained reader will be able to observe these laws and still give the rhythm in such a manner that the defect will scarcely be noticed.
In order to make the measure of poetry perceptible to the ear, there should generally be a slight pause at the end of each line, even where the sense does not require it.
There is, also, in almost every line of poetry, a pause at or near its middle, which is called the caesura.
This should, however, never be so placed as to injure the sense of the passage. It is indeed reckoned a great beauty, where it naturally coincides with the pause required by the sense. The caesura, though generally placed near the middle, may be placed at other intervals.
There are sometimes, also, two additional pauses in each line, called demi-caesuras.
The caesura is marked (||), and the demi-caesura thus, (|), in the examples given.
There should be a marked accent upon the long syllable next preceding the caesura, and a slighter one upon that next before each of the demi-caesuras. When made too prominent, these pauses lead to a singsong style, which should be carefully avoided.
In the following examples, the caesura is marked in each line; the demi-caesura is not marked in every case.
1. Nature | to all things || fixed | the limits fit,And wisely | curbed || proud man's | pretending wit.
2. Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall part,And the last pang || shall tear thee from his heart.
3. Warms in the sun, || refreshes in the breeze,Glows in the stars, || and blossoms in the trees.
4. There is a land || of every land the pride,Beloved by Heaven || o'er all the world beside,Where brighter suns || dispense serener light,And milder moons || imparadise the night;Oh, thou shalt find, || howe'er thy footsteps roam,That land—thy country, || and that spot—thy home.
5. In slumbers | of midnight || the sailor | boy lay;His hammock | swung loose || at the sport | of the wind;But, watch-worn | and weary, || his cares | flew away,And visions | of happiness || danced | o'er his mind.
6. She said, | and struck; || deep entered | in her sideThe piercing steel, || with reeking purple dyed:Clogged | in the wound || the cruel | weapon stands,The spouting blood || came streaming o'er her hands.Her sad attendants || saw the deadly stroke,And with loud cries || the sounding palace shook.
Simile is the likening of anything to another object of a different class; it is a poetical or imaginative comparison.
A simile, in poetry, should usually he read in a lower key and more rapidly than other parts of the passage—somewhat as a parenthesis is read.
1. Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goalWith rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form.As when, to warn proud cities, war appears,Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rushTo battle in the clouds.Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell,Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the airIn whirlwind. Hell scarce holds the wild uproar.As when Alcides felt the envenomed robe, and tore,Through pain, up by the roots, Thessialian pines,And Lichas from the top of Oeta threwInto the Euboic sea.
2. Each at the head,Leveled his deadly aim; their fatal handsNo second stroke intend; and such a frownEach cast at th' other, as when two black clouds,With heaven's artillery fraught, came rolling onOver the Caspian, there stand front to front,Hovering a space, till winds the signal blowTo join the dark encounter, in mid-air:So frowned the mighty combatants.
3. Then pleased and thankful from the porch they goAnd, but the landlord, none had cause of woe:His cup was vanished; for, in secret guise,The younger guest purloined the glittering prize.As one who spies a serpent in his way,Glistening and basking in the summer ray,Disordered, stops to shun the danger near,Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear,—So seemed the sire, when, far upon the road,The shining spoil his wily partner showed.
The natural pitch of the voice is its keynote, or governing note. It is that on which the voice usually dwells, and to which it most frequently returns when wearied. It is also the pitch used in conversation, and the one which a reader or speaker naturally adopts—when he reads or speaks— most easily and agreeably.
The compass of the voice is its range above and below this pitch. To avoid monotony in reading or speaking, the voice should rise above or fall below this keynote, but always with reference to the sense or character of that which is read or spoken. The proper natural pitch is that above and below which there is most room for variation.
To strengthen the voice and increase its compass, select a short sentence, repeat it several times in succession in as low a key as the voice can sound naturally; then rise one note higher, and practice on that key, then another, and so on, until the highest pitch of the voice has been reached. Next, reverse the process, until the lowest pitch has been reached.
High Pitch.
NOTE.—Be careful to distinguish pitch from power in the following exercise. Speaking in the open air, at the very top of the voice, is an exercise admirably adapted to strengthen the voice and give it compass, and should be frequently practiced.
1. Charge'! Chester" charge'! On'! Stanley, on'!
2. A horse'! a horse'! my kingdom' for a horse'!
3. Jump far out', boy' into the wave'! Jump', or I fire'!
4. Run'! run'! run for your lives!
5. Fire'! fire'! fire'! Ring the bell'!
6. Gentlemen may cry peace'! peace'! but there is no peace!
7. Rouse' ye Romans! rouse' ye slaves'!Have ye brave sons'? Look in the next fierce brawlTo see them die'. Have ye fair daughters'? LookTo see them live, torn from your arms', distained',Dishonored', and if ye dare call for justice',Be answered by the lash'!
Medium Pitch. (47)
NOTE.—This is the pitch in which we converse. To strengthen it, we should read or speak in it as loud as possible, without rising to a higher key. To do this requires long-continued practice.
1. Under a spreading chestnut tree,The village smithy stands';The smith, a mighty man is he,With large and sinewy hands';And the muscles of his brawny armsAre strong as iron bands.
2. There is something in the thunder's voice that makes me tremble like a child. I have tried to conquer' this unmanly weakness'. I have called pride' to my aid'; I have sought for moral courage in the lessons of philosophy', but it avails me nothing'. At the first moaning of the distant cloud, my heart shrinks and dies within me.
3. He taught the scholars the Rule of Three',Reading, and writing, and history', too';He took the little ones on his knee',For a kind old heart in his breast had he',And the wants of the littlest child he knew'."Learn while you're young'," he often said',"There is much to enjoy down here below';Life for the living', and rest for the dead',"Said the jolly old pedagogue' long ago'.
Low Pitch. (48)
1. O, proper stuff!This is the very painting of your fear:This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,Impostors to true fear, would well becomeA woman's story at a winter's fire.Authorized by her grandam.
2. Thou slave! thou wretch! thou coward!Thou little valiant, great in villainy!Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!Thou fortune's champion, thou dost never fightBut when her humorous ladyship is byTo teach thee safety! Thou art perjured too,And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and sweat,Upon my party! thou cold-blooded slave!
3. God! thou art mighty! At thy footstool bound,Lie, gazing to thee, Chance, and Life, and Death;Nor in the angel circle flaming round,Nor in the million worlds that blaze beneath,Is one that can withstand thy wrath's hot breath.Woe, in thy frown: in thy smile, victory:Hear my last prayer! I ask no mortal wreath;Let but these eyes my rescued country see,Then take my spirit, all Omnipotent, to thee.
4. O Thou eternal One! whose presence brightAll space doth occupy, all motion guide,Unchanged through time's all-devastating blight!Thou only God, there is no god beside!Being above all things, mighty One,Whom none can comprehend and none explore;Who fill'st existence with thyself alone,—Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er,—Being whom we call God, and know no more!
Quantity, in reading and speaking, means the length of time occupied in uttering a syllable or a word. Sounds and syllables vary greatly in quantity. Some are long, some short, and others intermediate between those which are long or short. Some sounds, also, may be prolonged or shortened in utterance to any desired extent. Quantity may be classified as Long, Medium, or Short.
DIRECTIONS FOR PRACTICE ON LONG QUANTITY.—Select some word of one syllable ending with a long vocal or a subvocal sound; pronounce it many times in succession, increasing the quantity at each repetition, until you can dwell upon it any desired length of time, without drawling, and in a natural tone.
REMARK.—Practice in accordance with this direction will enable the pupil to secure that fullness and roundness of voice which is exemplified in the hailing of a ship, "ship aho—y;" in the reply of the sailor, when, in the roar of the storm, he answers his captain, "ay—e. ay—e;" and in the command of the officer to his troops, when, amid the thunder of artillery, he gives the order, "ma—rch," or "ha—lt."
This fullness or roundness of tone is secured, by dwelling on the vocal sound, and indefinitely protracting it, The mouth should be opened wide, the tongue kept down, and the aperture left as round and as free for the voice as possible.
It is this artificial rotundity which, in connection with a distinct articulation, enables one who speaks in the open air, or in a very large apartment, to send his voice to the most distant point. It is a certain degree of this quality, which distinguishes declamatory or public speaking or reading from private conversation, and no one can accomplish much, as a public speaker, without cultivating it. It must be carefully distinguished from the "high tone," which is an elevation of pitch, and from "loudness." or "strength" of voice.
It will be observed that clearness and distinctness of utterance are secured by a proper use of the subvocals and aspirates—these sounds giving to words their shape, as it were; but a clear, full, and well-modulated utterance of the vocals gives to words their fullness.
1. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
2. Woe, woe, to the inhabitants of Jerusalem!
3. O righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave,Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save?Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod,That smote the foes of Zion and of God?
4. O sailor boy! sailor boy! never againShall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay;Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
5. O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens! When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers; the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over the work of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet. O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!
1. Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose;The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong;The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
2. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing!Thy home is high in heaven,Where the wide storms their banners fling,And the tempest clouds are driven.
3. At midnight, in his guarded tent,The Turk lay dreaming of the hourWhen Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,Should tremble at his power.
4. On New Year's night, an old man stood at his window, and looked, with a glance of fearful despair, up the immovable, unfading heaven, and down upon the still, pure, white earth, on which no one was now so joyless and sleepless as he.
1. Quick! or he faints! stand with the cordial near!
2. Back to thy punishment, false fugitive!
3. Fret till your proud heart breaks! Must I observe you? Must I crouch beneath your testy humor?
4. Up drawbridge, grooms! what, warder, ho!Let the portcullis fall!
5. Quick, man the lifeboat! see yon bark,That drives before the blast!There's a rock ahead, the fog is dark,And the storm comes thick and fast.
6. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not by myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction, or his mien, however matured by age or modeled by experience.
Movement is the rapidity with which the voice moves in reading and speaking. It varies with the nature of the thought or sentiment to be expressed, and should be increased or diminished as good taste may determine. With pupils generally, the tendency is to read too fast. The result is, reading or speaking in too high a key and an unnatural style of delivery—both of which faults are difficult to be corrected when once formed. The kinds of movement are Slow, Moderate, and Quick.
DIRECTIONS.—Read a selection as slowly us possible, without drawling. Read it again and again, increasing the rate of movement at each reading, until it can be read no faster without the utterance becoming indistinct. Reverse this process, reading more and more slowly at each repetition, until the slowest movement is obtained.
1. Oh that those lips had language! Life has passedWith me but roughly, since I heard them last.
2. A tremulous sigh from the gentle night windThrough the forest leaves slowly is creeping,While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,Keep guard; for the army is sleeping.
3. O Lord'! have mercy upon us, miserable offenders'!
4. So live, that when thy summons comes to joinThe innumerable caravan that movesTo the pale realms of shade, where each shall takeHis chamber in the silent halls of death,Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothedBy an unfaltering trust, approach thy graveLike one who wraps the drapery of his couchAbout him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
1. The good', the brave', the beautiful',How dreamless' is their sleep,Where rolls the dirge-like music'Of the over-tossing deep'!Or where the surging night windsPale Winter's robes have spreadAbove the narrow palaces,In the cities of the dead'!
2. Lives of great men all remind usWe can make our lives sublime,And, departing, leave behind usFootprints on the sands of time.
3. Cast your eyes over this extensive country. Observe the salubrity of your climate, the variety and fertility of your soil; and see that soil intersected in every quarter by bold, navigable streams, flowing to the east and to the west, as if the finger of heaven were marking out the course of your settlements, inviting you to enterprise, and pointing the way to wealth.
1. Awake'! arise'! or be forever fallen.
2. Merrily swinging on brier and weed,Near to the nest of his little dame,Over the mountain side or mead,Robert of Lincoln is telling his name.
3. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace—Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right,Rebuckled the check strap, chained slacker the bit,Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
4. Oh my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring morning upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees budding, birds singing, the park so gay, that I took a leap out of your balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and chased them all around the park to get an appetite for breakfast, while you were snoring in bed, uncle.
Quality.—We notice a difference between the soft, insinuating tones of persuasion; the full, strong voice of command and decision; the harsh, irregular, and sometimes grating explosion of the sounds of passion; the plaintive notes of sorrow and pity; and the equable and unimpassioned flow of words in argumentative style. This difference consists in a variation in the quality of the voice by which it is adapted to the character of the thought or sentiment read or spoken. In our attempts to imitate nature, however, it is important that all affectation be avoided, for perfect monotony is preferable to this fault. The tones of the voice should be made to correspond with the nature of the subject, without apparent effort.
Passion and Grief
"Come back! come back!" he cried, in grief,"Across this stormy water;And I'll forgive your Highland chief,My daughter! O, my daughter!"
Plaintive
I have lived long enough: my way of lifeIs fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf:And that which should accompany old age,As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,I must not look to have.
Calm
A very great portion of this globe is covered with water, which is called sea, and is very distinct from rivers and lakes.
Fierce Anger
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,And shook his very frame for ire;And—"This to me!" he said,—"An 't were not for thy hoary beard,Such hand as Marmion's had not sparedTo cleave the Douglas' head!
Loud and Explosive
"Even in thy pitch of pride,Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near,I tell thee, thou 'rt defied!And if thou said'st I am not peerTo any lord in Scotland here,Lowland or Highland, far or near,Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"
Gesture is that part of the speaker's manner which pertains to his attitude, to the use and carriage of his person, and the movement of his limbs in delivery.
Every person, in beginning to speak, feels the natural embarrassment resulting from his new position. The novelty of the situation destroys his self-possession, and, with the loss of that, he becomes awkward, his arms and hands hang clumsily, and now, for the first time, seem to him worse than superfluous members. This embarrassment will be overcome gradually, as the speaker becomes familiar with his position; and it is sometimes overcome at once, by a powerful exercise of the attention upon the matter of the speech. When that fills and possesses the mind, the orator is likely to take the attitude which is becoming, and, at least, easy and natural, if not graceful.
1st. The first general direction that should be given to the speaker is, that he should stand erect and firm, and in that posture which gives an expanded chest and full play to the organs of respiration and utterance.
2d. Let the attitude be such that it can be shifted easily and gracefully. The student will find, by trial, that no attitude is so favorable to this end as that in which the weight of the body is thrown upon one leg, leaving the other free to be advanced or thrown back, as fatigue or the proper action of delivery may require.
The student who has any regard to grace or elegance, will of course avoid all the gross faults which are so common among public speakers, such as resting one foot upon a stool or bench, or throwing the body forward upon the support of the rostrum.
3d. Next to attitude, come the movements of the person and limbs. In these, two objects are to be observed, and, if possible, combined, viz., propriety and grace. There is expression in the extended arm, the clinched hand, the open palm, and the smiting of the breast. But let no gesture be made that is not in harmony with the thought or sentiment uttered; for it is this harmony which constitutes propriety. As far as possible, let there be a correspondence between the style of action and the train of thought. Where the thought flows on calmly, let there be grace and ease in gesture and action. Where the style is sharp and abrupt, there is propriety in quick, short, and abrupt gesticulation. Especially avoid that ungraceful sawing of the air with the arms, into which all ill-regulated fervor betrays many young speakers.
What is called graceful manner, can only be attained by those who have some natural advantages of person. So far as it is in the reach of study or practice, it seems to depend chiefly upon the general cultivation of manners, implying freedom from all embarrassments, and entire self-possession. The secret of acquiring a graceful style of gesture, we apprehend, lies in the habitual practice, not only when speaking but at all times, of free and graceful movements of the limbs.
There is no limb nor feature which the accomplished speaker will not employ with effect, in the course of a various and animated delivery. The arms, however, are the chief reliance of the orator in gesture; and it will not be amiss to give a hint or two in reference to their proper use.
First—It is not an uncommon fault to use one arm exclusively, and to give that a uniform movement. Such movement may, sometimes, have become habitual from one's profession or employment; but in learners, also, there is often a predisposition to this fault.
Second—It is not unusual to see a speaker use only the lower half of his arm. This always gives a stiff and constrained manner to delivery. Let the whole arm move, and let the movement be free and flowing.
Third—As a general rule, let the hand be open, with the fingers slightly curved. It then seems liberal, communicative, and candid; and, in some degree, gives that expression to the style of delivery. Of course there are passages which require the clinched hand, the pointed finger, etc., etc.; but these are used to give a particular expression.
Fourth—In the movements of the arm, study variety and the grace of curved lines.
When a gesture is made with one arm only, the eye should be cast in the direction of that arm; not at it, but over it.
All speakers employ, more or less, the motions of the head. In reference to that member, we make but one observation. Avoid the continuous shaking and bobbing of the head, which is so conspicuous in the action of many ambitious public speakers.
The beauty and force of all gesture consist in its timely, judicious, and natural employment, when it can serve to illustrate the meaning or give emphasis to the force of an important passage. The usual fault of young speakers is too much action. To emphasize all parts alike, is equivalent to no emphasis; and by employing forcible gestures on unimportant passages, we diminish our power to render other parts impressive.
The business of training youth in elocution, must be commenced in childhood. The first school is the nursery. There, at least, may be formed a distinct articulation, which is the first requisite for good speaking. How rarely is it found in perfection among our orators.
"Words," says one, referring to articulation, should "be delivered out from the lips, as beautiful coins, newly issued from the mint; deeply and accurately impressed, perfectly finished; neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, in due succession, and of due weight." How rarely do we hear a speaker whose tongue, teeth, and lips, do their office so perfectly as to answer to this beautiful description! And the common faults in articulation, it should be remembered, take their rise from the very nursery.
Grace in eloquence, in the pulpit, at the bar, can not be separated from grace in the ordinary manners, in private life, in the social circle, in the family. It can not well be superinduced upon all the other acquisitions of youth, any more than that nameless, but invaluable, quality called good breeding. Begin, therefore, the work of forming the orator with the child; not merely by teaching him to declaim, but what is of more consequence, by observing and correcting his daily manners, motions, and attitudes. You can say, when he comes into your apartment, or presents you with something, a book or letter, in an awkward and blundering manner, "Return, and enter this room again," or, "Present me that book in a different manner," or, "Put yourself in a different attitude." You can explain to him the difference between thrusting or pushing out his hand and arm, in straight lines and at acute angles, and moving them in flowing circular lines, and easy graceful action. He will readily understand you. Nothing is more true than that the motions of children are originally graceful; it is by suffering them to be perverted, that we lay the foundation of invincible awkwardness in later life.
In schools for children, it ought to be a leading object to teach the art of reading. It ought to occupy threefold more time than it does. The teachers of these schools should labor to improve themselves. They should feel that to them, for a time, are committed the future orators of the land.
It is better that a girl should return from school a first-rate reader, than a first-rate performer on the pianoforte. The accomplishment, in its perfection, would give more pleasure. The voice of song is not sweeter than the voice of eloquence; and there may be eloquent readers, as well as eloquent speakers. We speak of perfection in this art: and it is something, we must say in defense of our preference, which we have never yet seen. Let the same pains be devoted to reading, as are required to form an accomplished performer on an instrument; let us have, as the ancients had, the formers of the voice, the music masters of the reading voice; let us see years devoted to this accomplishment, and then we should be prepared to stand the comparison.
Reading is indeed, a most intellectual accomplishment. So is music, too, in its perfection. We do by no means undervalue this noble and most delightful art, to which Socrates applied himself even in his old age. But one recommendation of the art of reading is, that it requires a constant exercise of mind. It involves, in its perfection, the whole art of criticism on language. A man may possess a fine genius without being a perfect reader; but he can not be a perfect reader without genius.
'T is not enough the voice' be sound and clear','T is modulation' that must charm the ear.When desperate heroes grieve with tedious moan,And whine their sorrows in a seesaw tone,The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes,Can only make the yawning hearers doze.
The voice all modes of passion can expressThat marks the proper word with proper stress:But none emphatic can that speaker call,Who lays an equal emphasis on all.
Some o'er the tongue the labored measure roll,Slow and deliberate as the parting toll;Point every stop, mark every pause so strong,Their words like stage processions stalk along.
All affectation but creates disgust;And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just.In vain for them' the pleasing measure flows,Whose recitation runs it all to prose:Repeating what the poet sets not down,The verb disjointing from its favorite noun,While pause, and break, and repetition joinTo make it discord in each tuneful line'.
Some' placid natures fill the allotted sceneWith lifeless drawls, insipid and serene;While others' thunder every couplet o'er,And almost crack your ears with rant and roar;More nature oft, and finer strokes are shownIn the low whisper than tempestuous tone;And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze,More powerful terror to the mind conveysThan he, who, swollen with impetuous rage,Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage.
He who, in earnest studies o'er his part,Will find true nature cling about his heart.The modes of grief are not included allIn the white handkerchief and mournful drawl:A single look' more marks the internal woe,Than all the windings of the lengthened Oh'!
A laughable story was circulated during the administration of the old Duke of Newcastle, and retailed to the public in various forms. This nobleman, with many good points, was remarkable for being profuse of his promises on all occasions, and valued himself particularly on being able to anticipate the words or the wants of the various persons who attended his levees, before they uttered a word. This sometimes led him into ridiculous embarrassment; and it was this proneness to lavish promises, which gave occasion for the following anecdote:
At the election of a certain borough in Cornwall, where the opposite interests were almost equally poised, a single vote was of the highest importance. This object the Duke, by well applied argument and personal application, at length attained; and the gentleman he recommended, gained the election. In the warmth of gratitude, his grace poured forth acknowledgments and promises without ceasing, on the fortunate possessor of the casting vote; called him his best and dearest friend; protested, that he should consider himself as forever indebted to him; and that he would serve him by night or by day.
The Cornish voter, who was an honest fellow, and would not have thought himself entitled to any reward, but for such a torrent of acknowledgments, thanked the Duke for his kindness, and told him the supervisor of excise was old and infirm, and, if he would have the goodness to recommend his son-in-law to the commissioners, in case of the old man's death, he should think himself and his family bound to render his grace every assistance in their power, on any future occasion.
"My dear friend, why do you ask for such a trifling employment?" exclaimed his grace; "your relative shall have it the moment the place is vacant, if you will but call my attention to it."
"But how shall I get admitted to you, my lord? For in London, I understand, it is a very difficult business to get a sight of you great folks, though you are so kind and complaisant to us in the country."
"The instant the man dies," replied the Duke, "set out posthaste for London; drive directly to my house, and, be it by night or by day, thunder at the door; I will leave word with my porter to show you upstairs directly; and the employment shall be disposed of according to your wishes."
The parties separated; the Duke drove to a friend's house in the neighborhood, without a wish or desire to see his new acquaintance till that day seven years; but the memory of the Cornish elector, not being burdened with such a variety of objects, was more retentive. The supervisor died a few months after, and the Duke's humble friend, relying on the word of a peer, was conveyed to London posthaste, and ascended with alacrity the steps of that nobleman's palace.
The reader should be informed, that just at this time, no less a person than the King of Spain was expected hourly to depart this life, an event in which the minister of Great Britain was particularly concerned; and the Duke of Newcastle, on the very night that the proprietor of the decisive vote arrived at his door, had sat up anxiously expecting dispatches from Madrid. Wearied by official business and agitated spirits, he retired to rest, having previously given particular instructions to his porter not to go to bed, as he expected every minute a messenger with advices of the greatest importance, and desired that he might be shown upstairs, the moment of his arrival.
His grace was sound asleep; and the porter, settled for the night in his armchair, had already commenced a sonorous nap, when the vigorous arm of the Cornish voter roused him from his slumbers. To his first question, "Is the Duke at home?" the porter replied, "Yes, and in bed; but has left particular orders that, come when you will, you are to go up to him directly."
"Bless him, for a worthy and honest gentleman," cried our applicant for the vacant post, smiling and nodding with approbation at the prime minister's kindness, "how punctual his grace is; I knew he would not deceive me; let me hear no more of lords and dukes not keeping their words; I verily believe they are as honest, and mean as well as any other folks." Having ascended the stairs as he was speaking, he was ushered into the Duke's bedchamber.
"Is he dead?" exclaimed his grace, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awakened from dreaming of the King of Spain, "Is he dead?"
"Yes, my lord," replied the eager expectant, delighted to find the election promise, with all its circumstances, so fresh in the nobleman's memory.
"When did he die?"
"The day before yesterday, exactly at half past one o'clock, after being confined three weeks to his bed, and taking a power of doctor's stuff; and I hope your grace will be as good as your word, and let my son-in-law succeed him."
The Duke, by this time perfectly awake, was staggered at the impossibility of receiving intelligence from Madrid in so short a space of time; and perplexed at the absurdity of a king's messenger applying for his son-in-law to succeed the King of Spain: "Is the man drunk, or mad? Where are your dispatches?" exclaimed his grace, hastily drawing back his curtain; where, instead of a royal courier, he recognized at the bedside, the fat, good-humored countenance of his friend from Cornwall, making low bows, with hat in hand, and "hoping my lord would not forget the gracious promise he was so good as to make, in favor of his son-in-law, at the last election."
Vexed at so untimely a disturbance, and disappointed of news from Spain, the Duke frowned for a moment; but chagrin soon gave way to mirth, at so singular and ridiculous a combination of circumstances, and, yielding to the impulse, he sunk upon the bed in a violent fit of laughter, which was communicated in a moment to the attendants.
The relater of this little narrative, concludes, with observing, "Although the Duke of Newcastle could not place the relative of his old acquaintance on the throne of His Catholic Majesty, he advanced him to a post not less honorable—he made him an exciseman." —Blackwood's Magazine.
[Illustration: Bedroom: The Duke is startled awake, sitting up in bed with distressed look on his face. A servant is holding a candlestick. A third man is slightly bowed and holding his hat in his hands. The duke's sword rests against a chair at the foot of the bed.]
Notes.—Duke of Newcastle.—Thomas Holles Pelham (b. 1693, d. 1768), one of the chief ministers of state in the reign of George II. of England.
Cornwall.—A county forming the extreme southwestern part of England.
King of Spain.—Ferdinand VI. was then the king of Spain. He died in 1759.
His Catholic Majesty, a title applied to the kings of Spain; first given to Alfonso I. by Pope Gregory III. in 739.
The gay belles of fashion may boast of excellingIn waltz or cotillon, at whist or quadrille;And seek admiration by vauntingly tellingOf drawing, and painting, and musical skill:But give me the fair one, in country or city,Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart,Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty,While plying the needle with exquisite art:The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle,The needle directed by beauty and art.
If Love have a potent, a magical token,A talisman, ever resistless and true,A charm that is never evaded or broken,A witchery certain the heart to subdue,'T is this; and his armory never has furnishedSo keen and unerring, or polished a dart;Let beauty direct it, so polished and burnished,And oh! it is certain of touching the heart:The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle,The needle directed by beauty and art.
Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiration,By dressing for conquest, and flirting with all;You never, whate'er be your fortune or station,Appear half so lovely at rout or at ball,As gayly convened at the work-covered table,Each cheerfully active, playing her part,Beguiling the task with a song or a fable,And plying the needle with exquisite art:The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle,The needle directed by beauty and art.—Samuel Woodworth.
Edward Everett, 1794-1865. He was born at Dorchester, Mass., now a part of Boston, and graduated from Harvard College with the highest honors of his class, at the age of seventeen. While yet in college, he had quite a reputation as a brilliant writer. Before he was twenty years of age, he was settled as pastor over the Brattle Street Church, in Boston, and at once became famous as an eloquent preacher. In 1814, he was elected Professor of Greek Literature in his Alma Mater; and, in order to prepare himself for the duties of his office, he entered on an extended course of travel in Europe. He edited the "North American Review," in addition to the labors of his professorship, after he returned to America.
In 1825, Mr. Everett was elected to Congress, and held his seat in the House for ten years. He was Governor of his native state from 1835 to 1839. In 1841, he was appointed Minister to England. On his return, in 1846, he was chosen President of Harvard University, and held the office for three years. In 1852, he was appointed Secretary of State. February 22, 1856, he delivered, in Boston, his celebrated lecture on Washington. This lecture was afterwards delivered in most of the principal cities and towns in the United States. The proceeds were devoted to the purchase of Mt. Vernon. In 1860, he was a candidate for the Vice Presidency of the United States, He is celebrated as an elegant and forcible writer, and a chaste orator.
This extract, a wonderful piece of word painting, is a portion of an address on the "Uses of Astronomy," delivered at the inauguration of the Dudley Observatory, at Albany, N, Y, Note the careful use of words, and the strong figures in the third and fourth paragraphs. ###
I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the early train from Providence to Boston; and for this purpose rose at two o'clock in the morning. Everything around was wrapped in darkness and hushed in silence, broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, midsummer's night,—the sky was without a cloud, the winds were whist. The moon, then in the last quarter, had just risen, and the stars shone with a spectral luster but little affected by her presence.
Jupiter, two hours high, was the herald of the day; the Pleiades, just above the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east; Lyra sparkled near the zenith; Andromeda veiled her newly-discovered glories from the naked eye in the south; the steady Pointers, far beneath the pole, looked meekly up from the depths of the north to their sovereign.
Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible; the intense blue of the sky began to soften; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but the bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn.
The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the great watch stars shut up their holy eyes; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky; the whole celestial concave was filled with the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above in one great ocean of radiance; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy teardrops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his state.
I do not wonder at the superstition of the ancient Magians, who, in the morning of the world, went up to the hilltops of Central Asia, and, ignorant of the true God, adored the most glorious work of his hand. But I am filled with amazement, when I am told, that, in this enlightened age and in the heart of the Christian world, there are persons who can witness this daily manifestation of the power and wisdom of the Creator, and yet say in their hearts, "There is no God."
Notes.—Jupiter, the largest planet of the solar system, and, next to Venus, the brightest. Pleiades (pro. ple'ya-dez), a group of seven small stars in the constellation of Taurus.
Lyra, Androm'eda, two brilliant constellations in the northern part of the heavens. Pointers, two stars of the group called the Dipper, in the Great Bear. These stars and the Polar Star are nearly in the same straight line.
Blue Hills, hills about seven hundred feet high, southwest of Boston,Massachusetts.
Magians, Persian worshipers of fire and the sun, as representatives of theSupreme Being.
Benjamin Disraeli. 1805-1881, was of Jewish descent. His ancestors were driven out of Spain by the Inquisition, and went to Venice. In 1748, his grandfather came to England. His father was Isaac Disraeli, well known as a literary man. Benjamin was born in London, and received his early education under his father. He afterwards studied for a lawyer, but soon gave up his profession for literature. His first novel, "Vivian Grey," appeared when the author was twenty-one years of age; it received much attention. After several defeats he succeeded in an election to Parliament, and took his seat in that body, in the first year of Victoria's reign. On his first attempt to speak in Parliament, the House refused to hear him. It is said that, as he sat down, he remarked that the time would come when they would hear him. In 1849, he became the leader of the Conservative party in the House. During the administration of W. E. Gladstone, Mr. Disraeli was leader of the opposition. In 1868, he became prime minister, holding the office for a short time. In 1874, he was again appointed to the same office, where he remained until 1880. His wife was made Viscountess of Beaconsfield in 1868. After her death, the title of Earl of Beaconsfield was conferred on Disraeli. He ranked among the most eminent, statesmen of the age, but always devoted a portion of his time to literature. "Lothair," a novel, was published in 1870. ###
* * * They looked round on every side, and hope gave way before the scene of desolation. Immense branches were shivered from the largest trees; small ones were entirely stripped of their leaves; the long grass was bowed to the earth; the waters were whirled in eddies out of the little rivulets; birds, leaving their nests to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks, unable to stem the driving air, flapped their wings and fell upon the earth; the frightened animals of the plain, almost suffocated by the impetuosity of the wind, sought safety and found destruction; some of the largest trees were torn up by the roots; the sluices of the mountains were filled, and innumerable torrents rushed down the before empty gullies. The heavens now open, and the lightning and thunder contend with the horrors of the wind.
In a moment, all was again hushed. Dead silence succeeded the bellow of the thunder, the roar of the wind, the rush of the waters, the moaning of the beasts, the screaming of the birds. Nothing was heard save the plash of the agitated lake, as it beat up against the black rocks which girt it in.
Again, greater darkness enveloped the trembling earth. Anon, the heavens were rent with lightning, which nothing could have quenched but the descending deluge. Cataracts poured down from the lowering firmament. For an instant, the horses dashed madly forward; beast and rider blinded and stifled by the gushing rain, and gasping for breath. Shelter was nowhere. The quivering beasts reared, and snorted, and sank upon their knees, dismounting their riders.
He had scarcely spoken, when there burst forth a terrific noise, they knew not what; a rush, they could not understand; a vibration which shook them on their horses. Every terror sank before the roar of the cataract. It seemed that the mighty mountain, unable to support its weight of waters, shook to the foundation. A lake had burst upon its summit, and the cataract became a falling ocean. The source of the great deep appeared to be discharging itself over the range of mountains; the great gray peak tottered on its foundation!—It shook!—it fell! and buried in its ruins the castle, the village, and the bridge!