From "In Lighter Vein," with the permission of Paul Elder and Company,San Francisco, publishers.
Henry Irving, the actor, was always fond of playing practical jokes. Clement Scott tells of one played by Irving and Harry Montague upon a number of their associates. Irving and Montague, hitherto the best of friends, began to quarrel on their way to a picnic, and their friends feared some tragic consequences. After luncheon both of the men disappeared. Business Manager Smale's face turned pale. He felt that his worst fears had been realized. With one cry, "They're gone! What on earth has become of them?" he made a dash down the Dargle, over the rocks and bowlders, with the remainder of the picnickers at his heels. At the bottom of a "dreadful hollow behind the little wood," a fearful sight presented itself to the astonished friends. There, on a stone, sat Henry Irving, in his shirtsleeves, his long hair matted over his eyes, his thin hands and white face all smeared with blood, and dangling an open clasp-knife. He was muttering to himself, in a savage tone: "I've done it, I've done it! I said I would, I said I would!" Tom Smale, in an agony of fear, rushed up to Irving. "For Heaven's sake, man," he screamed, "tell us where he is!" Irving, scarcely moving a muscle, pointed to a heap of dead leaves, and, in that sepulchral tone of his, cried: "He's there! I've done for him! I've murdered him!" Smale literally bounded to the heap, almost paralyzed with fear, and began pulling the leaves away. Presently he found Montague lying face downward and nearly convulsed with laughter. Never was better acting seen on any stage.
From "Memories of the Lyceum," in "Modern Eloquence," Vol. VI, Geo. L.Shuman and Company, Chicago, publishers.
Wendell Phillips was the most polished and graceful orator our country ever produced. He spoke as quietly as if he were talking in his own parlor and almost entirely without gestures, yet he had as great a power over all kinds of audiences as any American of whom we have any record. Often called before howling mobs, who had come to the lecture- room to prevent him from being heard, and who would shout and sing to drown his voice, he never failed to subdue them in a short time. One illustration of his power and tact occurred in Boston. The majority of the audience were hostile. They yelled and sang and completely drowned his voice. The reporters were seated in a row just under the platform, in the place where the orchestra plays in an ordinary theater. Phillips made no attempt to address the noisy crowd, but bent over and seemed to be speaking in a low tone to the reporters. By and by the curiosity of the audience was excited; they ceased to clamor and tried to hear what he was saying to the reporters. Phillips looked at them and said quietly:—
"Go on, gentlemen, go on. I do not need your ears. Through these pencils I speak to thirty millions of people."
Not a voice was raised again. The mob had found its master and stayed whipped until he sat down.
Eloquent as he was as a lecturer, he was far more effective as a debater. Debate was for him the flint and steel which brought out all his fire. His memory was something wonderful, He would listen to an elaborate speech for hours, and, without a single note of what had been said, in writing, reply to every part of it as fully and completely as if the speech were written out before him. Those who heard him only on the platform, and when not confronted by an opponent, have a very limited comprehension of his wonderful resources as a speaker. He never hesitated for a word or failed to employ the word best fitted to express his thought on the point under discussion.
From "Writings in Prose and Verse, by Eugene Field," with the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, publishers.
The members of the Boston Commercial Club are charming gentlemen. They are now the guests of the Chicago Commercial Club, and are being shown every attention that our market affords.
Last night five or six of these Boston merchants sat around the office of the hotel and discussed matters and things. Pretty soon they got to talking about beans; this was the subject which they dwelt on with evident pleasure.
"Waal, sir," said Ephraim Taft, a wholesale dealer in maple sugar and flavored lozenges, "you kin talk 'bout your new-fashioned dishes an' high-falutin' vittles; but when you come right down to it, there ain't no better eatin' than a dish o' baked pork 'n' beans."
"That's so, b'gosh!" chorused the others.
"The truth o' the matter is," continued Mr. Taft, "that beans is good for everybody—'t don't make no difference whether he's well or sick. Why, I've known a thousand folks—waal, mebbe not quite a thousand; but—waal, now, jest to show, take the case of Bill Holbrook,—you remember Bill, don't ye?"
"Bill Holbrook?" said Mr. Ezra Eastman. "Why, of course I do. Used to live down to Brimfield, next to Moses Howard farm."
"That's the man," resumed Mr. Taft. "Waal, Bill fell sick—kinder moped 'round, tired-like, for a week or two, an' then tuck to his bed. His folks sent for Dock Smith—ol' Dock Smith that used to carry a pair o' leather saddlebags. Gosh, they don't have no sech doctors nowadays! Waal, the dock he come; an' he looked at Bill's tongue, an' felt uv his pulse, an' said that Bill had typhus fever."
Ol' Dock Smith was a very careful, conserv'tive man, an' he never said nothin' unless he knowed he was right.
"Bill began to git wuss, an' he kep' a-gittin' wuss every day. One mornin' ol' Dock Smith sez, 'Look a-here, Bill, I guess you're a goner; as I figger it, you can't hol' out till nightfall.'
"Bill's mother insisted on a con-sul-tation bein' held; so ol' Dock Smith sent over for young Dock Brainerd. I calc'late that, nexttool' Dock Smith, young Dock Brainerd was the smartest doctor that ever lived.
"Waal, pretty soon along come Dock Brainerd; an' he an' Dock Smith went all over Bill, an' looked at his tongue, an' felt uv his pulse, an' told him it was a gone case, an' that he had got to die. Then they went on into the spare chamber to hold their con-sul-tation.
"Waal, Bill he lay there in the front room a-pantin' an' a-gaspin', an' a wond'rin' whether it wuz true. As he wuz thinkin', up comes the girl to git a clean tablecloth out of the clothespress, an' she left the door ajar as she come in. Bill he gave a sniff, an' his eyes grew more natural like; he gathered together all the strength he had, an' he raised himself up on one elbow an' sniffed again.
"'Sary,' says he, 'wot's that a-cookin'?'
"'Beans,' says she; 'beans for dinner.'
"'Sary,' says the dyin' man, 'I must hev a plate uv them beans!'
"'Sakes alive, Mr. Holbrook!' says she; 'if you wuz to eat any o' them beans it'd kill ye!'
"'If I've got to die,' says he, 'I'm goin' to die happy; fetch me a plate uv them beans.'
"Waal, Sary she pikes off to the doctor's.
"'Look a-here,' says she; 'Mr. Holbrook smelt the beans cookin' an' he says he's got to have some. Now, what shall I do about it?'
"'Waal, Doctor,' says Dock Smith, 'what do you think 'bout it?'
"'He's got to die anyhow,' says Dock Brainerd, 'an' I don't suppose the beans 'll make any diff'rence.'
"'That's the way I figger it,' says Dock Smith; 'in all my practice I never knew of beans hurtin' anybody.'
"So Sary went down to the kitchen an' brought up a plateful of hot baked beans. Dock Smith raised Bill up in bed, an' Dock Brainerd put a piller under the small of Bill's back. Then Sary sat down by the bed an' fed them beans into Bill until Bill couldn't hold any more.
"'How air you feelin' now?' asked Dock Smith.
"Bill didn't say nuthin; he jest smiled sort uv peaceful-like and closed his eyes.
"'The end hez come,'f said Dock Brainerd sof'ly; 'Bill is dyin'.'
"Then Bill murmured kind o' far-away like; 'I ain't dyin'; I'm dead an' in heaven.'
"Next mornin' Bill got out uv bed an' done a big day's work on the farm, an' he ain't bed a sick spell since. Them beans cured him!"
From "Speeches and Addresses of Abraham Lincoln," Current LiteraturePublishing Company, New York, publishers.
"Within a month after Mr. Lincoln's first accession to office," says the Hon. Mr. Raymond, "when the South was threatening civil war, and armies of office seekers were besieging him in the Executive Mansion, he said to a friend that he wished he could get time to attend to the Southern question; he thought he knew what was wanted, and believed he could do something towards quieting the rising discontent; but the office seekers demanded all his time. 'I am,' said he, 'like a man so busy in letting rooms in one end of his house that he can't stop to put out the fire that is burning the other.' Two or three years later when the people had made him a candidate for reflection, the same friend spoke to him of a member of his Cabinet who was a candidate also. Mr. Lincoln said that he did not concern himself much about that. It was important to the country that the department over which his rival presided should be administered with vigor and energy, and whatever would stimulate the Secretary to such action would do good. 'R——,' said he, 'you were brought up on a farm, were you not? Then you know what achin-flyis. My brother and I,' he added, 'were once plowing corn on a Kentucky farm, I driving the horse, and he holding the plow. The horse was lazy; but on one occasion rushed across the field so that I, with my long legs, could scarcely keep pace with him. On reaching the end of the furrow, I found an enormouschin-flyfastened upon him, and knocked him off. My brother asked me what I did that for. I told him I didn't want the old horse bitten in that way. "Why," said my brother, "that's all that made him go!" Now,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'if Mr. —— has a presidentialchin-flybiting him, I'm not going to knock him off if it will only make his departmentgo.'"
There exercises should be practiced in only a moderately strong voice, at times perhaps in a very soft voice, and always with a good degree of ease and naturalness. They had better be memorized, and as the technique becomes more sure, less thought may be given to that and more to the true expression of the spirit of each passage—or let the spirit from the first, if it will, help the technique.
For rounding and expanding the voice. To be given in an even sustained tone, with rather open throat and easy low breathing. Suspend the speech where pauses are marked, for a momentary recovery of breath. Keep the breath easily firm. Don't drive the breath through the tone.
1
Roll on, | thou deep and dark blue Ocean, | roll!Ten thousand fleets | sweep over thee | in vain;Man marks the earth | with ruin—his control |Stops | with the shore.
2
O Tiber, | Father Tiber |To whom the Romans pray,A Roman's life, | a Roman's arms,Take thou in charge | this day |
3
O Rome! | my country! | city of the soul!The orphans of the heart | must turn to thee,Lone mother of dead empires! | and controlIn their shut breasts | their petty misery.
4
Ring joyous chords!— | ring out again!A swifter still | and a wilder strain!And bring fresh wreaths!— | we will banish allSave the free in heart | from our banquet hall.
5
O joy to the people | and joy to the throne,Come to us, | love us | and make us your own:For Saxon | or Dane | or Norman | we,Teuton or Celt, | or what ever we be,We are all of us Danes | in our welcome of thee, Alexandra!
6
Liberty! | Freedom! | Tyranny is dead!—Run hence, | proclaim, | cry it about the streets.Some to the common pulpits, | and cry out,"Liberty, | freedom, | and enfranchisement!"
Give these with a rather vigorous colloquial effect, with clear-cut form, with point and spirit.
1
Armed, say you?Armed, my lord.From top to toe?My lord, from head to foot.Then saw you notHis face?Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.What, looked he frowningly?A countenance moreIn sorrow than in anger.Pale or red?Nay, very pale.And fixed his eyes upon you?Most constantly.
2
But, sir, the Coalition! The Coalition! Aye, "the murdered Coalition!" The gentleman asks if I were led or frighted into this debate by the specter of the Coalition. "Was it the ghost of the murdered Coalition," he exclaims, "which haunted the member from Massachusetts; and which, like the ghost of Banquo, would never down?" "The murdered Coalition."
3
Should he have asked Aguinaldo for an armistice? If so, upon what basis should he have requested it? What should he say to him? "Please stop this fighting?" "What for?" Aguinaldo would say; "do you propose to retire?" "No." "Do you propose to grant us independence?" "No, not now." "Well, why then, an armistice?"
4
Alas, poor Yorick!—I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it.—Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chop-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come; make her laugh at that.
Keep first of all a good form to the vowels. Make consonants definitely by sufficient action of jaw, tongue, and lips. Keep the throat easy; avoid stiffening and strain. A particularly light, soft, pure tone, with fine articulation, may generally be best for practice.
In these first passages, carry the tone well in the head, so as to give a pure, soft, clear sound to them's,n's,ng's, andl's. If need be, these letters may be marked.
1
One cry of wonder,Shrill as the loon's call,Rang through the forest,Startling the silence,Startling the mournersChanting the death-song.
2
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,Too quick for groan or sigh,Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,And cursed me with his eye.
Four times fifty living men,(And I heard nor sigh nor groan,)With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,They dropped down one by one.
3
These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation.
4
Lay the proud usurpers low!Tyrants fall in every foe!Liberty's in every blow!Forward! let us do or die!
5
I closed my lids, and kept them close,And the balls like pulses beat;For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the skyLay like a load on my weary eye,And the dead were at my feet.
Give clearly thekand thegforms, making a slight percussion in the back of the mouth. Finish clearly all main words.
1
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,We could nor laugh nor wail;Through utter drought all dumb we stood!I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,Agape they heard me call:Gramercy! they for joy did grin,And all at once their breath drew in,As they were drinking all.
2
Where dwellest thou?Under the canopy.Under the canopy!Ay!Where's that?I' the city of kites and crows.I' the city of kites and crows!—Then thou dwellest with daws, too?No: I serve not thy master.
3
Strike | till the last armed foe | expires!Strike | for your altars and your fires!Strike | for the green graves of your sires!God | and your native land!
For flexibility of the lips, form well theo's andw's.
1
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude.
2
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful, wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping!
3
Water, water, everywhere,And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, everywhere,Nor any drop to drink.
4
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath beenAlone on a wide, wide sea:So lonely 'twas, that God himselfScarce seemed there to be.
Have care fort's,d's,s's, thethand thest's.
1
Day after day, day after day,We stuck, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted ocean.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,'Twas sad as sad could be;And we did speak only to breakThe silence of the sea!
2
What loud uproar bursts from that door!The wedding-guests are there:But in the garden-bower the brideAnd bride-maids singing are:And hark the little vesper bell,Which biddeth me to prayer!
3
Farewell, farewell! but this I tellTo thee, thou Wedding-Guest!He prayeth well, who loveth wellBoth man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth bestAll things both great and small;For the dear God who loveth us,He made and loveth all.
Attend especially tob's and in passage 2 top's. Give a very soft, slightly echoing continuation to theingin "dying."
1
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
2
Hop, and Mop, and Drop so clear,Pip, and Trip, and Skip that wereTo Mab their sovereign dear,Her special maids of honor;Fib, and Tib, and Pinck, and Pin,Tit, and Nit, and Wap, and Win,The train that wait upon her.
Determine the exact sense and express it pointedly. The primary or central emphasis takes an absolute fall from a pitch above the general level; the secondary emphasis takes a circumflex inflection—a fall and a slight rise. Primary, Hebrew Letter Yod; secondary Gujarati Vowel Sign li. In the question, the main part of the inflection is usually rising instead of falling. The effect of suspense or of forward look requires the slightly upward final turn to the inflection. Note this in passages 4, 5, and 6.
1
In 1825 the gentleman told the world that the public lands "oughtnotto be treated as atreasure." He now tells us that "theymustbe treated asso much treasure." What the deliberate opinion of the gentleman on this subject may be, belongs not to me to determine.
2
Compare the two. This I offer to give you isplainandsimple;the other full of perplexed and intricatemazes. This is mild; thatharsh. This is found by experienceeffectual for its purposes; the other is anew project. This isuniversal; the other calculated forcertain colonies only.This isimmediate in its conciliatory operation; the otherremote, contingent, full ofhazard.
3
As Cęsarloved me, Iweepfor him; as he wasfortunate, Irejoiceat it; as he wasvaliant, Ihonorhim; but as he wasambitious, Islewhim. There istearsfor hislove;joyfor hisfortune;honorfor hisvalor; anddeathfor hisambition.
4
One moment he stood erect, strong, confident in the years stretching peacefully out before him; the next he lay wounded, bleeding,helpless, doomed to weary weeks of torture, to silence and the grave.
5
For no cause, in the very frenzy of wantonness and wickedness, by the red hand of Murder he was thrust from the full tide of this world's interest, from its hopes, its aspirations, its victories, into the visible presence of death; and hedid not quail.
6
There was no flinching as he charged. He had just turned to give a cheer when the fatal ball struck him. There was a convulsion of the upward hand—his eyes, pleading and loyal, turned their last glance to the flag—his lips parted—he felldead, and at nightfall lay with his face to the stars. Home they brought him, fairer than Adonis over whom the goddess of beauty wept.
7
But the gentleman inquires whyhewas made the object of such a reply. Why washesingled out? If an attack has been made on theEast, he, he assures us, did notbeginit; it was made by the gentleman fromMissouri. Sir, I answered the gentleman's speech because I happened tohearit; and because, also, I chose to give an answer to that speech which, ifunanswered, I thought most likely to produceinjurious impressions.
Give musical tone and a fitting modulation, or tune, avoiding the so- called singsong. Note the occasional closing cadence. Observe the rhythmic movement, with beat and pause.
1
You think me a fanatic to-night, for you read history not with your eyes, but with your prejudices. But fifty years hence, when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of History will put Phocian for the Greek, and Brutus for the Roman, Hampden for England, Fayette for France, choose Washington as the bright consummate flower of our earlier civilization, and John Brown the ripe fruit of our noonday, then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name of the soldier, the statesman, the martyr, Toussaint L'Ouverture.
2
Have you read in the Talmud of old,In the Legends the Rabbins have toldOf the limitless realms of the air,Have you read it,—the marvelous storyOf Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?
3
You remember King Charles' Twelve Good Rules, the eleventh of which was, "Make no long meals." Now King Charles lost his head, and you will have leave to make a long meal. But when, after your long meal, you go home in the wee small hours, what do you expect to find? You will find my toast—"Woman, a beautiful rod!" Now my advice is, "Kiss the rod!"
4
Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,Dear Father, take care of Thy children, the Boys!
Have great care not to put any strain upon the throat. Breathe low. Be moderate in force.
1
O mighty Cęsar! dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well.
2
Yes, I attack Louis Napoleon; I attack him openly, before all the world. I attack him before God and man. I attack him boldly and recklessly for love of the people and for love of France.
3
I am asked what I have to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me according to law. I am charged with being an emissary of France! and for what end? No; I am no emissary.
4
I see a race without disease of flesh or brain,—shapely and fair,—the married harmony of form and function,—and as I look, life lengthens, joy deepens, love canopies the earth.
Use the imagination to see and hear. Suit the voice to the sound, form or movement of your image, or to the mood of mind indicated. Read with melody and pause. Take plenty of time.
1
There's a lurid light | in the clouds to-night,In the wind | there's a desolate moan,And the rage of the furious sea | is white,Where it breaks | on the crags of stone.
2
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:At one stride | comes the dark;With far-heard whisper, | o'er the sea,Off shot | the specter-bark.
3
Is this a time to be gloomy and sad;When our mother Nature | laughs around;When even the deep blue heavens | look glad,And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?
4
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,That dandelions | are blossoming near,That maize | has sprouted, that streams | are flowing,That the river is bluer | than the sky,That the robin | is plastering his nest | hard by;And if the breeze kept the good news back,For other couriers | we should not lack;We could guess it all | by yon heifer's | lowing,—And hark! how clear | bold chanticleer,Warmed | by the new wine | of the year,Tells all | by his lusty | crowing!
1
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky;Ring out the false, ring in the true.
2
Good work is the most honorable and lasting thing in the world.
3
O Thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers, whence are thy beams, O Sun, thy everlasting light!
4
I am thy father's spirit,Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,And for the day confined to fast in fires,Till the foul crimes done in my days of natureAre burnt and purg'd away.
5
"Well, gentlemen, I am a Whig. If you break up the Whig party, where amIto go?" And, says Lowell, we all held our breath, thinking where hecouldgo. But, says Lowell, if he had been five feet three, we should have said, Whocareswhere you go?
Have the action simple and unstudied, expressing the dominant purpose rather than illustrating mere words or phrases. Avoid stiltedness and elaboration. Try to judge where and how the gesture would be made.
Nor do notsaw the airtoo much with yourhand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion,you must acquire and beget a temperancethat may give it smoothness.
2
In my native town of Athens is a monument that crowns its central hills—a plain, white shaft.Deep cut into its shining side is a namedear to me above the names of men, that of a brave and simple man who died in brave and simple faith. Not for all the glories of New England—from Plymouth Rock all the way—would I exchange the heritage he left me in his soldier's death.
3
Sir, when I heard the gentleman lay down principles which place the murderers of Alton side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and Adams,I thought those pictured lips(pointing to the portraits in the Hall) would have broken into voice to rebuke the recreant American,—the slanderer of the dead.
4
Suppose I stood at the foot of Vesuvius, or Ętna, and, seeing a hamlet or a homestead planted on its slope, I said to the dwellers in that hamlet, or in that homestead, "You see that vapor which ascends from the summit of the mountain.That vapor may become a dense, black smoke, that will obscure the sky.You see the trickling of lava from the crevices in the side of the mountain.That trickling of lava may become a river of fire.You hear that muttering in the bowels of the mountain.That muttering may become a bellowing thunder, the voice of violent convulsion, that may shake half a continent."
5
And what have we to oppose 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 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.
1
Learn from real life. Don't go by the spelling. Don't overdo the dialect.
'E carried me awayTo where a dooli lay,An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.'E put me safe inside,An' just before 'e died:"I 'ope you liked your drink," sez Gunga Din.
2
Sergeant Buzfuz began by saying that never, in the whole course of his experience,—never, from the very first moment of his applying himself to the study and practice of the law, had he approached a case with such a heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon him.
3
I'm a walkin' pedestrian, a travelin' philosopher. Terry O'Mulligan's me name. I'm from Dublin, where many philosophers before me was raised and bred. Oh, philosophy is a foine study! I don't know anything about it, but it's a foine study!
4
It is de ladies who do sweeten de cares of life. It is de ladies who are de guiding stars of our existence. It is de ladies who do cheer but not inebriate, and, derefore, vid all homage to de dear sex, de toast dat I have to propose is, "De Ladies! God bless dem all!"
5
What tho' on hamely fare we dine,Wear hoddin' gray, an' a' that;Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine—A man's a man, for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,Their tinsel show, an' a' that,The honest man, though e'er sae poor,Is king o' men for a' that!
6
A keerless man in his talk was Jim,And an awkward hand in a row,But he never flunked, and he never lied,—I reckon he never knowed how.He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing,—And he went for it thar and then;And Christ ain't agoing to be too hardOn a man that died for men.