ESSAY ON ORATORY.

THOUGH it is not ſtrictly within the limits of our plan, to range at large over the ex⯑tenſive field of oratorical correctneſs, fancy and excellence, as it reſpects the pulpit, ſenate, and bar; yet it is hoped we ſhall ſo far touch on the eſſentials of them all, as to give hints, which may prove uſeful to each of the three degrees.

If we ſay that an orator, like a poet, to excel, ſhould be born ſuch, it will be no ſtrained aſſer⯑tion; and if we add that he muſt be more indebted to nature, than a ſon of the muſes, it will be eaſily admitted. Cultivated imagination, regulated by judgment, conſtitutes one; who, totally void of external requiſites, may ſhine from his cloſet, tho' ever ſo deformed in figure, rude in features, weak in voice, or blemiſh'd in appearance.

[12]The other, though he may, by peculiar excel⯑lence of delivery, and the help of a feeling ſub⯑ject well treated on, be able to impreſs an audience, with little more than a good voice; yet experience powerfully convinces us that a graceful perſon, re⯑ſpectable marking features, expreſſive eyes, and ornamental geſture, are of the utmoſt utility: it is no argument to ſay, that a man, as in the caſe of Sir John Fielding, tho' the viſual gates of ſympa⯑thy be ſhut, may ſhow ſtrong marks of oratorical merit; for the queſtion naturally follows, would he not be much more powerful in expreſſion, if the indexes of thought enjoyed their natural and proper vigour, eſpecially where particular feelings are to be excited?

It is too common for ignorance and avarice, to miſapply the talents of youth, eſpecially in this point of view; many are deſtined for, and brought up to the moſt ſerious, the moſt important con⯑cerns of life, wherein public ſpeaking is required, who labour under glaring defects and imbecilities of expreſſion; hence ſo many drowſy, irkſome preachers, ſo many ſenatorical cyphers; and ſuch a number of imperfect pleaders: this parental blunder is much the ſame as breeding a purblind boy to watchmaking, or one hard of hearing to muſic.

Suppoſing a perſon qualified by nature, let us ſee how far art may be called in. The complete orator muſt have a general and intimate knowledge of himſelf, the world and mankind; a clear con⯑ception of the paſſions and affections of thoſe he is to inſtruct and perſuade; a perfect acquaintance with the various diſtinctions of virtue and vice; he ſhould be critically intimate with all the beau⯑ties and blemiſhes of the ancient writers; he ſhould [13] be an hiſtorian and a logician; poſſeſſing a correct idea of, and taſte for, the liberal arts; if a com⯑petent knowledge of the mechanical ones is added, ſo much the better; he ſhould poſſeſs a quick con⯑ception, and a retentive memory; he ſhould be able to break thro', with eaſe, the cobwebs of ſo⯑phiſtry, and, above all, enjoy that grand ingre⯑dient recommended by CICERO, ſocial philoſophy.

He ſhould be maſter of all the arguments, for and againſt his ſubject; in ſhort, to ſum up all with the great Roman orator's own words, ‘"he ſhould be furniſhed with logical acuteneſs, phi⯑loſophical wiſdom, and poetical imagination, embelliſhed with the moſt poliſhed elocution and geſture of the ſtage."’

To expatiate upon the obvious advantages de⯑riveable from each of the above qualifications re⯑quired to complete this very comprehenſive cha⯑racter we are conſidering, would be to ſpin out a needleſs length of explanation; which could an⯑ſwer no end, but anticipating the reader's reflec⯑tive inveſtigation; wherefore we ſhall quit this point, with obſerving, that when ſo many requi⯑ſites, both internal and external are neceſſary, it is no wonder that a complete orator is ſo very ſcarce a character.

Declaimers, who may be juſtly ſtiled the pageants of oratory, poſſeſs the flowery, but not the argu⯑mentative, part; they appeal boldly to fancy and the paſſions, but cautiouſly ſhun rational inquiſi⯑tion; ſhew and plauſibility completely ſet up one of this dangerous kind of public ſpeakers, who oftener make proſelytes among the weak and igno⯑rant, than ſound orators do; as they are moſtly pleaſing, tho' ſeldom inſtructive. Biſhop Sprat, ſpeaking of them, in his hiſtory of the Royal Society, [14] emphatically ſays, ‘"of all the ſtudies of men, no⯑thing can be ſooner obtained, than a vicious abundance of phraſe; the trick of metaphors, and a volubility of tongue."’

Having come thus far, the three celebrated ora⯑tors of antiquity ſeem to fall in the way; DEMOS⯑THENES, ISOCRATES and CICERO; the firſt ſpoke from the heart, the ſecond from the head; the firſt was animated by his ſubject and powerfully enforced it; the ſecond decked it profuſely with rhetorical flowers; one flaſhed conviction, by ir⯑reſiſtable imagery; the other amuſed imagination, with fantaſtical alluſions: of ISOCRATES we may ſay, his eloquence reſembled a pleaſant, but ſhal⯑low, ſtream, which tickles the ear with an agree⯑able murmuring: DEMOSTHENES a deep majeſtic current, that in its courſe thunders on attention, and bears down all oppoſition: ISOCRATES poſ⯑ſeſſes eaſe and elegance, DEMOSTHENES power and perſwaſion; CICERO who riſes far above the former, does not in our idea come up to the latter; he is however a very maſterly mixture of both, and therefore more likely to obtain general admi⯑ration, than either of his predeceſſors.

Oratory is well defined the exerciſe of eloquence; eloquence the fluency of ſpeech; and rhetoric the guide of both. It is odd that theſe three terms ſhould frequently be uſed as ſynonimous, when they ſo eſſentially differ.

Oratorical compoſition ſhould be founded on a progreſſive unity of parts, but not like ſome of our ſermons, which are diſgraced with inſipid metho⯑dical formality commonly ſtiled heads; it ſhould enter modeſtly upon, warm into the ſubject, and, if required, kindle to fire, when the audience are ready to receive heated impreſſions; an impaſ⯑ſioned [15] exordium generally produces a cold conclu⯑ſion; and that piece, which endeavours to catch attention too ſuddenly, will either not catch it at all, or be obliged ſoon to let it ſlip.

FENELON, ARCHBISHOP OF CAMBRAY, de⯑ſcribing the Beauties of Eloquence, ſpeaks to the following effect: ‘"Of what uſe can any ornament be, that does not tend to prove, to paint, or to affect? thoſe ornaments, which only pleaſe, are falſe beauties; thoſe which pleaſe and perſuade, ſolid ones; the juſt and natural emotions of an orator have much grace and beauty in them; his correct and ſpirited painting charms us; all the eſſential parts of eloquencce tend to pleaſe; but merely pleaſing is not the moſt important aim; ideas and expreſſions, which only tickle the ear, may be deemed quaint turns; all graces of ſtyle, which ſerve to invigorate perſuaſion, are to be wiſh'd for; but all witty, punning conceits, all quibbling upon words, all ſtrained metaphors, all forced glaring imagery, and all luxurance of idea, which only ſerve to flaſh and glitter upon fancy, diſgrace ſound oratory."’

In public ſpeaking, as well as in poetry and painting, art ſhould be carefully concealed: where perceptible, it has a coarſe and mean aſpect. The orator ſhould ſo intirely poſſeſs his audience of the ſubject, as to make them forget the ſpeaker.

From the affecting exclamation of Gracchus, mentioned by Cicero, and a dilation of it, we per⯑ceive how expreſſion ſtrengthens, or enervates, a ſubject: ‘"Wretched man that I am! whither ſhall I turn myſelf? where can I go? to the Capitol? it ſwims with my brother's blood! ſhall I go to to my own houſe? there to ſee my wretched mo⯑ther diſſolved in tears, and overwhelmed with [16] ſorrow?"’ This is a beautiful, bold, and affect⯑ing picture of perplexed grief: mark how faded the tints of originality appear in the following faint copy: ‘"I know not where to go, nor whi⯑ther I ſhall turn myſelf, amidſt my misfor⯑tunes—the Capitol is the place where my bro⯑ther's blood was ſhed; and at home I ſhall find my unhappy mother lamenting her ſad con⯑dition."’ With very narrow comprehenſion and very dull feelings we may readily perceive the fall⯑ing off, in this languid extenſion and variation of phraſe.

We ſhall offer an inſtance of the turgid and chaſte, in the following comparative contraſt. Suppoſe a perſon addreſſing an Engliſh audience, on a pre⯑ſumed decay of Engliſh liberty, ſhould thus de⯑claim; ‘"Moſt renowned Britons—in the magna⯑nimous volume of Time we may read—even purblind eyes may ſee the glaring type, that there was a period, when liberty, diaphanous as ſun-beams at noon, exhilarated this oceanic iſle; when like the bird of Jove it ſoar'd aloft, and gazed with pleaſure on the face of day; now it faintly glimmers, like the fog-wrapped moon, and our glorious eagle is become a bird of night."’

Now let us ſee how the ſame ſubject may be treated, in oppoſition to this over-charged, bloated, tabernacle harangue; which, delivered in the Moorfield manner, muſt prove a laughable mor⯑ſel of mirth, to divert common ſenſe, and aſtoniſh ignorance.

‘"Fellow citizens, there was a time, when li⯑berty diffuſed its bleſſings thro' this once happy iſle; when its value was known, and its worth revered; when, like the ſun, it was a common [17] comforter; the parent of pleaſure, eaſe, and ſecurity: now corruption and our own depra⯑vity have brought it to ſo enfeebled and preca⯑rious a ſtate, that every real friend of his coun⯑try muſt tremble, as I do, at the painful idea of its ſpeedy and inevitable diſſolution."’

If eloquence (a very dangerous weapon in the hands of ill-deſigning men) is uſed to any other purpoſes than the following, we may conſider it as in a cenſurable ſtate of perverſion.

It ſhould enforce the cleareſt proof of any uſe⯑ful truth, with ſuch intereſting motives as may af⯑fect the hearers, and work their paſſions to virtu⯑ous purpoſes; to raiſe indignation againſt ingrati⯑tude; horror againſt cruelty; deteſtation againſt vice; abhorrence againſt ſlavery; compaſſion for miſery; love for virtue; reverence for religion; obedience to ſuperiors; and benevolence to all. Thus employed, eloquence appears in its full force and beauty: mere harangues ſeldom fail to catch the ear, but rarely touch the heart, and as ſeldom inform the head.

It is neceſſary that an orator ſhould call the paſ⯑ſions to his aid; but then he ſhould be very cau⯑tious not to impoſe on, or aſſail, them too violent⯑ly: the one is cruel, the other impolitic. He ſhould be clear in his ideas, and conciſe in his ex⯑preſſion: he ſhould perfectly underſtand juſt ar⯑rangement of matter, and the proper climax of ar⯑gument: he ſhould be thoroughly poſſeſſed of every principle and part of his ſubject: he ſhould pro⯑vide a ſufficient number of appoſite, affecting figures. Thus prepared, he muſt ſpeak, and ef⯑fectually, from an untrammel'd imagination.

The following paſſages, from Biſhop Burnet's diſcourſe on the Paſtoral Care, ſeems well calculated [18] for the improvement of Lay, as well as Pulpit, ſpeakers. ‘"The extempore orator ſhould fre⯑quently converſe with himſelf, to let his thoughts flow freely from him; eſpecially when he feels an edge and heat upon his mind; for then hap⯑py expreſſions will ſpontaneouſly come to his mouth. He muſt alſo write eſſays on all kinds of ſubjects; for, by writing, he will bring him⯑ſelf to a facility and correctneſs of thinking and ſpeaking: and thus, by cloſe application for two or three years, a man may render himſelf ſuch a maſter this way, that he can never be ſur⯑prized; nor will new thoughts ever dry up up⯑on him. If, in his meditations, happy thoughts and noble pathetic expreſſions offer themſelves, he muſt not loſe, but write them down."’

We perfectly agree with the right reverend Au⯑thor, that much oratorical merit may be derived from frequent, well-regulated ſoliloquies, and eſſay-writing; and are induced to offer a few more of his thoughts, though not in the exact words nor confined light wherein he has propoſed them.

One moſt eſſential point is, that an orator ſhould have a due and deep ſenſe of the truth and utility of his ſubject: he muſt have a life and glow in his thoughts, with relation to it: he ſhould very ſen⯑ſibly feel in himſelf thoſe things which he explains and recommends to others: he ſhould ſpeak as if what he uttered came from the heart: the orator, unleſs he really is, or ſeems to be, in earneſt, will never make any material impreſſion. There is a degree of authority, even in the ſimpleſt matters that can be treated of, if they appear genuine, while the moſt important points fall into neglect, when conveyed through the cold vehicle of languid expreſſion.

[19]For a general well-compacted idea of oratory, we ſhall refer to ſome ſpeeches from FENELON's Dialogue, between DEMOSTHENES and CICERO.

Mr. RAPIN, in his Reflections upon Eloquence, obſerves, that there are two extremes, which ſhould be equally and carefully avoided; the frigid ſtyle, and the boyiſh. The former renders diſcourſes dry and inſipid, by a languid flatneſs of expreſſion; the latter ungrateful and ſhocking, by a turgid loftineſs, and affected amplification. Thoſe who uſe the frigid ſtyle, call in pompous expreſſions, when the ſubject requires plain ones; and they who affect the boyiſh one, employ low expreſſions in the loftieſt themes. The frigid ſtyle properly includes all ſuch expreſſions as are too ſtrong, or too ſparkling, ſtrained metaphors, and frequent witticiſms: the boyiſh ſtyle comprehends ſtrokes of humour, and quaint conceits, upon ſerious ſubjects; looſe and heavy repetitions, in that part of an oration which ought to be cloſe and conciſe; too violent exaggerations, and too labo⯑rious figures.

One would think that MALBRANCHE had the enthuſiaſtic religion-mongers of thoſe days in view, when he obſerved, that one of the greateſt and moſt remarkable proofs of the ſtrong influence that ſome heated imaginations have over others, is the power of extenſive perſuaſion, without a ſhadow of proof^*.

[22]Stage delivery (for theatrical expreſſion cannot be ſtiled oratory) including more variety, and more force of paſſion, is conſequently more diffi⯑cult. It requires the fineſt, and moſt ſignificant feelings, in the performer, to create, by ſympathy, proper ſenſations in the audience.

That noble and almoſt peculiar ſenſe of human nature, Sympathy, makes us not only ſhare in the diſtreſs of a fellow creature, but alſo pity the miſerable brute: it varies ſhapes and ſtrength, ac⯑cording to the objects and circumſtances which occur. There are two principal degrees; ſympa⯑thy of compulſion and ſympathy of election: the firſt is, when irreſiſtable motives arreſt the heart; the ſecond, when it becomes intereſted, by choice. Compulſive ſympathy inſtructs us to ſigh with ſucceſsleſs love; to kindle with real or well painted rage; to weep with grief; and to mourn for virtue in diſtreſs: elective ſympathy is when we make choice of objects in different ſituations, and be⯑come, without any perſonal knowledge or imme⯑diate concern, anxious for their ſucceſs: in caſes of competition, whether of a pleaſurable or of a ſerious nature, man cannot remain a ſpectator to⯑tally indifferent; he muſt aſſiſt one ſide or the other, with a ſympathetic wiſh: in the choice he is free; yet that choice is frequently ſo capricious, that no firm reaſon can be offered, why it becomes fixed.

Imagination is the vehicle which conveys ſym⯑pathy to, and draws it meliorated from, the heart: that which the Theatre raiſes, is produced by the bold painting of the Poet's pen, aided by the na⯑tural and forcible talents of a good Actor; who is, in every ſentence, an illuſtrative comment upon his author's idea.

[23]This is that kind of ſympathy, which the inge⯑nious Dr. SMITH, in his Theory of Moral Senti⯑ments, deſcribes to ariſe from the view of emotions in another perſon: the paſſions may be transfuſed from one perſon to another, inſtantaneouſly, and antecedent to any knowledge of what excited them in the perſon principally concerned. Grief and Joy, ſtrongly expreſſed in the look and geſtures of any one, excluſive of voice, at once affect the ſpecta⯑tor with ſome degree of a like painful or agreeable emotion: a ſmiling face is to every one who ſees it a cheerful object; as a ſorrowful countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy one.

What the ingenious Profeſſor ſays of mankind at large, may be brought to the point we have im⯑mediately in view. Every faculty in one man, when he judges of propriety, is the meaſure by which he decides upon the like faculty in another: I judge of your ſight, by my ſight; of your ear, by my ear; of your reaſon, by my reaſon; of your re⯑ſentment, by my reſentment; of your love, by my love: I neither have nor can have any other way of judging, about them. This poſition granted, we are not to wonder at the endleſs variety of, and frequent abſurd critical opinions upon, the real and mimic ſtages of life.

If an actor creates ſympathy (which to do ſhould be his foremoſt aim) he will command attention: if not, vain are the beſt requiſites, and all the ad⯑ventitious aids of theatrical decoration.

[24] For what follows we have been obliged to a pam⯑phlet, written by Mr. GENTLEMAN, ſome few years ſince.

READING and DECLAMATION conſiſt of em⯑phaſis, climax, modulation, pauſes, breaks, tranſi⯑tions, tones, cadences, and geſture.

EMPHASIS may be divided into two branches, explanatory and expreſſive: by the firſt is meant that ſtreſs of utterance, which preſents more clear⯑ly to conception the meaning of what we deliver; as for example:—‘"A popular man is, in truth, no better than a proſtitute to common fame, and to the people: he lies down to every one he meets, for the hire of praiſe, and his humility is only a diſguiſed ambition."’—By marking the preceding paſſage ſo, the meaning ſtrikes immediately, with full force; whereas, if the ſtreſs was laid upon other words, or if the whole was uttered with monotony (a ſameneſs of tone) the ſenſe would be confuſed; and to a hearer, whoſe apprehenſion was not very quick, perhaps quite unintelligible.—In caſes where the ſenſe is doubtful, proper emphaſis is indiſpenſably neceſſary; for inſtance: "Did the Engliſhman deſerve to die?—If I lay the ſtreſs upon did, then it marks a queſtion ariſing from ſurpriſe; if Engliſhman is diſtinguiſhed, then it im⯑plies that others were concerned, and that I would know his caſe particularly.—If die is marked, then it appears that I admit guilt, but want to know if his crime was of ſuch a nature as to deſerve capital puniſhment.

Expreſſive emphaſis is that which we uſe to ren⯑der a paſſage, whoſe meaning is obvious, more for⯑cible; [25] as may appear by properly marking the fol⯑lowing quotation from Shakeſpeare^*.

Let us take another example, from an higher Epic.

By laying the emphaſis on ſpiry, in the firſt line, the peculiar form of the trees mentioned is ex⯑plained; whereas, had the ſtreſs been laid upon firs, it would leave us at liberty to think upon oaks, elms, &c. ſpiry too.—The word ariſe is marked, as being the purport of a command; and though, in general, the voice falls, at the end of a line, yet, in this caſe, the meaning re⯑quires it ſhould be raiſed, but not too high, nor abruptly.

In the ſecond line, vig'rous is marked as a pro⯑perty of the cedar: indeed all epithets, whether [26] they precede or follow, require emphaſis.—Pierce is noted as painting a quickneſs and boldneſs of vegetation, while the imagination is raiſed to a more than ordinary height, by particulariſing ſkies.

In the third line, chill is diſtinguiſhed as a cha⯑racteriſtic quality of the climate of Lebanon.

Fearleſs, in the fourth line, is pointed out as an extraordinary attribute of a bird; and conflicting ſtorms are emphatical, as a proof of that attribute; enlarging the idea much more than the ſimple word fearleſs, unaſſiſted, would have done.

In the fifth line, tow'ring is diſtinguiſhed as an epithet; and cradle, which happily deſcribes the ſtork's neſt in that rocking ſituation, is pointed out as the motive of the bird's reſolution.

In the laſt line, high is marked as a material cir⯑cumſtance of the imagery, and ſounding not only as an epithet, but alſo as referring to its turbulent ſituation among whiſtling or roaring gales.

I have choſen the above ſtanza from the Pſalms, as pictureſque poetry reſts more upon emphaſis, than any other ſpecies of writing; and I have been ſo minute in the explanation of it, not only that my meaning might be underſtood, as to this branch of expreſſion, but likewiſe to ſhow that emphaſis ſhould be founded on reaſon, not laid merely for a jingle, or variation of ſound.—Having thus marked and explained one ſtanza, I ſhall propoſe two more for the exerciſe of the ſtudent, without any marks of diſtinction.

After all that can be ſaid, the degrees of empha⯑ſis are ſo many and ſo variable, that no preciſe rules can be laid down for their application.—In reading and declamation, as in muſic, there muſt be taſte, to give beauty; without it mere rectitude will be moſt unaffectingly inſipid. This quality, though improveable, muſt certainly be firſt derived from Nature.—A reader, before he can reach bare propriety, muſt thoroughly underſtand what he reads; for which reaſon the cuſtom of putting children to peruſe the Bible, in which there are many difficult words and abſtruſe paſſages, is by no means to be commended; nay, if we conſider it in another light, it is highly blameable; for by being made the ſubject of puzzle and embarraſſ⯑ment, by being toſſed about in a careleſs and ſlovenly manner, that love and reſpect which the ſacred writings juſtly claim, are too frequently ſet aſide in youth^*. We are told, that among the [28] Turks, if a piece of written paper appears on the ground, it is taken up and carefully preſerved, leſt the word ALLAH, or GOD, be inſcribed on it.—Mark the contraſted irreverence of Chriſtians! who not only profane with their mouths that moſt aw⯑ful name, upon the moſt trivial occaſions, but alſo frequently uſe, as waſte paper, whole ſheets, in which not only his ſacred name is mentioned, but every letter a part of his divine word.

Another reaſon againſt making the Bible an early book among learners, is the frequency of periods, and peculiarity of ſtyle, in which it differs widely from moſt other compoſitions. It is not rare to find many perſons, who, by laboriouſly conning over the chapters, can ſtumble their way pretty tolerably through any part of it; yet put them to any other book, you ſhall find them lamentably hampered, and frequently at an abſolute ſtand.

But to return more particularly to my ſubject.—As no abſolute rules can be laid down for emphaſis, in general, we muſt be content with remarks upon particular caſes; ſuch as, that oppoſition, or anti⯑theſis, requires an emphaſis upon each of the op⯑poſed words; and that moſt monoſyllables, begin⯑ning a queſtion, muſt be ſtrongly marked: as, Why did he ſo? What can he mean? How did ſhe look? In compound words, that are oppoſed to others, the emphaſis, or rather accent, properly falls on the diſtinguiſhing ſyllables: for inſtance, The virtuous are modeſt—the vicious immodeſt—the righteous are bleſſed—the unrighteous are mi⯑ſerable.—Here I have oppoſed ſimple to ſimple, and compound to compound; were the words im⯑modeſt and unrighteous to be pronounced without oppoſition, the accent would fall upon the ſecond ſyllable, inſtead of the firſt.

[29]In explanatory emphaſes the very ſame words are differently marked, according to the writer's de⯑ſign: as, What did my maſter ſay? If I lay the ſtreſs upon what, it is a general interrogation; if I place it upon my, it implies that other maſters were concerned; if maſter is diſtinguiſhed, it notes that there were other perſons; and if the emphaſis lies boldeſt upon ſay, it ſhows I want to know his particular words.

Both the cauſe and the effect in any ſentence require an emphaſis.—Example: To live WELL, is to die HAPPY—only to be GOOD, is to be GREAT—GUILT is the ſource of SORROW.

CLIMAX is that progreſſive force and exaltation of expreſſion, which more powerfully impreſſes each ſubject on the mind; and is not only of in⯑diſpenſible uſe, but alſo highly ornamental. In the execution of this, there is much nicety, as the riſe, in moſt caſes, ſhould be gradual, always har⯑monious, and upon many occaſions very forcible.—To illuſtrate the matter, I ſhall offer ſeveral ex⯑amples of different degrees of climax. Firſt from Shakeſpeare's Brutus; which ſhould riſe with a full, ſmooth, philoſophic weight and dignity.

[30]The climax of reaſoning, in theſe lines, is too obvious to be inſiſted on; therefore I ſhall only obſerve, that the glow of expreſſion, as I may call it, ſhould warm, with the argument.

The Sublime and Beautiful, from Moſes' Laſt Song.

‘"Give ear, oh ye heavens! and I will ſpeak; and hear, oh earth, the words of my mouth: my doctrine ſhall drop as the rain, my ſpeech ſhall diſtil as the dew; as the ſmall rain upon the ten⯑der herb; and as the ſhowers upon the graſs; be⯑cauſe I will publiſh the name of the Lord. Aſcribe ye greatneſs unto our God. He is the rock; his work is perfect; for all his ways are judgment. A God of truth: and without iniquity—juſt and right is he—for the Lord's portion is his people. Jacob is the lot of his inheritance: he found him in a deſart land; and in the waſte howling wilder⯑neſs: he led him about: he inſtructed him, and kept him as the apple of his eye: as an eagle ſtir⯑reth up her neſt; fluttereth over her young; ſpreadeth abroad her wings; taketh them, beareth them on her wings, ſo the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no ſtrange god with him."’

We have an example from Addiſon, which calls for dignity, ſoftened and impaſſioned by the moſt pathetic feeling of manly grief; a feeling which very few have imagination to conceive happily, and as few powers to expreſs properly.

Of Pathetic Lamentation, from Jeremiah.

‘"How does the city ſit ſolitary, that was full of people? how is ſhe become as a widow? ſhe that was great among the nations, and princeſs among the provinces: How is ſhe become tribu⯑tary? ſhe weepeth ſore in the night; and her tears are on her cheeks. Among all her loſſes, ſhe hath none to comfort her: all her friends have dealt treacherouſly with her: they have become her ene⯑mies: for theſe things I weep; mine eye runneth down with water, becauſe the comforter, that ſhould relieve my ſoul, is far from me. My children are deſolate, becauſe the enemy prevailed. My eyes do fail with tears, my bowels are troubled: my liver is poured upon the earth for the deſtruc⯑tion of the daughter of my people."’

[32] Of pathetic, deſcriptive Melancholy, from Shake⯑ſpeare.

The following paſſage from Otway ſhould gradually warm into Rapture.

An inſtance of Climax in vindictive Rage we have in the following lines of Young.

Vindictive Ferocity, from Milton.

A Climax of jealous Rage Shakeſpeare give us in the following lines.

A Climax of more Rapidity, proceeding from a ſudden Burſt of Grief, Shakeſpeare gives as follows.

Any perſon who can do juſtice to theſe, or ſimi⯑lar paſſages, either by genius or inſtruction, may claim a ſufficient knowledge of climax; which, however, as well as emphaſis, is farther explained under the term MODULATION.

If we conſider the human voice through the whole extent of its ſeveral diviſions, we ſhall eaſily diſcover that nothing can require more the aſſiſt⯑ance of art to render it pleaſing and expreſſive.

The art of harmonious expreſſion is diſtinguiſhed by the term modulation; for the better compre⯑hending of which let us borrow a diviſion from muſic; counter-tenor, tenor, and baſe, or upper, medium, and lower notes. Every one of theſe, ſo far as reading and declamation extend, may be found or created, more or leſs perfectly, in every voice, according to the organs of utterance, and the proper uſe of thoſe organs; it then remains properly to appropriate each of the diviſions.

To all plaintive, amorous paſſages, humble in⯑ſinuation, flattery, and frequently to exclamations of joy and diſtractions, the counter-tenor is moſt properly applied, as will appear from the follow⯑ing examples, firſt from Otway, in the plaintive ſtrain.

Inſtance of the amorous Style, from Lee.

Humility and Inſinuation are thus happily ſet forth by Shakeſpeare.

Diſſimulation, which requires the ſame tone of ex⯑preſſion, we find in theſe lines of Young.

Inſtances of Exclamation in Joy and Rage are thus ſet forth by Shakeſpeare.

[39] Of Deſpair, from Sophocles.

‘"Alas! alas! the truth now appears too plain⯑ly—oh, light! this is the laſt time I ſhall behold thee—alas! alas! wretched man, where am I?—whence comes it that my voice ſo ſuddenly fails me?—oh, fortune, whither art thou fled? un⯑happy, wretched man that I am!—I feel a raging anguiſh, while I think of my misfortunes!—oh, friends, what can I now ſee, or love, or entertain, or hear with comfort?—oh, friends! immediately forſake a wretch, an execrable wretch; abhorr'd of Gods and men!—Curſed be the man that unlooſed my fetters, and ſaved me in the deſart, where I was expoſed—he did me no real kindneſs. I might then have died with leſs ſorrow to myſelf and friends; I ſhould neither have become the ſanguine murderer of my father, nor the inceſtu⯑ous huſband of my mother!"’

The preceding examples may ſuffice for the upper tones of voice; which, however, ſhould never be ſuffered to run into feigned ſqueaking, or unnatural ſoftneſs.

The middle notes, or tenor of expreſſion, ſuit all common narrations, diſſertations, and thoſe parts of declamation which do not touch upon the paſſions. I preſume it would be deemed ſuperfluous to give various examples of what every book which preſents itſelf for peruſal calls for in general; therefore I ſhall only tranſcribe one ſhort paſſage from Milton for the medium notes.

That degree of expreſſion I term baſe, is parti⯑cularly well applied to gloomy meditation, paſ⯑ſages of horror, the invocation of fiends, cynical roughneſs, and vindictive rage.—Inſtance of Gloomy Reflection, from Young.

An Example of Horror we have in theſe Lines of Rowe.

Inſtance of Horror from Shakeſpeare.

Invocation of Jealouſy, from Mallet.

Invocation of Fiends, from Young.

[43] The following Paſſages of Enraged Diſcontent, from Rowe, claim the under Notes of Expreſſion.

Theſe Lines of the ſame Author preſent us with Cynical Roughneſs and Contempt.

Picture of deep Diffident Cruelty from Shakeſpeare.

Having thus given examples for each of the three diviſions of voice, it becomes neceſſary to remark, that the variations in each are many; and that the appropriations I have made are only meant in general. There are certainly ſeveral exceptions; but theſe muſt be left to the inſtructor's or ſtu⯑dent's diſcernment, as entering into every particu⯑lar would be, if not impracticable, at leaſt intolera⯑bly tedious.

PAUSES next preſent themſelves to conſidera⯑tion, and chiefly occur in meditation, doubt, or confuſion: no exact time can be fixed for them, but they ought to be made longer or ſhorter ac⯑cording to the importance of the ſubject; and in moſt, eſpecially paſſages of reflection, the voice ſhould have a tone of continuance, which conſti⯑tutes the difference between a pauſe and break; the former is a gradual ſtop, the latter a ſudden check of expreſſion.

[45] Pauſes of the firſt ſort occur in the following lines of Shakeſpeare; and, as the ſubject is of great weight, ſhould be of conſiderable duration, perhaps while one could number ſix, or a period and half to each.

Or theſe Lines, from the ſame Author.

[46] Pauſes of confuſion are ſhorter than thoſe of re⯑flection, and are to be fill'd up with heſitative panting breath, while every ſucceeding word or ſentence varies in tone of expreſſion from the for⯑mer:—inſtances from Shakeſpeare, as follow;

Every diſcerning reader will readily perceive that the latter example is of a ſtronger, but ſlower confuſion than the former.

BREAKS, as I have before hinted, are only pauſes of a different nature, more abrupt and ſudden, as when a paſſion cuts ſhort before the meaning is fully explained: theſe moſt frequently occur in violent grief and impetuous rage; and the tone of voice alters as the paſſion riſes or falls. One general rule in the expreſſion of grief is, that, when gradual, the tones ſhould ſwell pathetically; but, when ſudden, they ſhould burſt forth and break the voice, ſtill avoiding any diſſonant ſcream [47] or croak.—In theſe lines of Shakeſpeare we find pauſes of grief ſwelling ſlowly, and working upon themſelves.

Examples of Breaks in Impetuous Rage as follow.

[48]Having thus particularly and diſtinctly explain⯑ed the proper application of the three grand divi⯑ſions of the voice, in order to bring what has been ſaid into a narrow compaſs, and to place it in one point of view, I ſhall produce for an example the Seven Ages of Shakeſpeare, and mark the lines ac⯑cording to the variations; which, agreeable to the foregoing obſervations, ought to be made in ſpeak⯑ing or in reading this paſſage. The counter-tenor, or upper notes, I diſtinguiſh by italics; the tenor, or medium, retain the common type; and the baſe is marked by CAPITALS.

Every emphaſis and variation of voice ſhould be founded on reaſon; it may be proper, therefore, to ſhow why the ſeveral parts of the preceding lines are thus diſtinguiſhed. In the firſt age of infancy, the upper notes are moſt deſcriptive of that tender time, as they are alſo of the whimpering ſchool-boy; and their ſoftneſs likewiſe ſuits the ſighing of the lover. The forward confidence of the ſoldier demands a full-ſpirited medium; and the corpulent importance, generally imputed to magiſtracy, is well pictured by the jolly ſwell of the baſe notes, while the feebleneſs of faſt declining age calls for the counter-tenor, tremulated, as it were, with weakneſs.

Thus much for general explanation, which I have delivered in as full and clear a manner as the nature of my deſign would poſſibly admit; and, having ſet forth ſuch examples as, explained by teachers, or carefully inveſtigated by ſtudents, may give a full idea of what is intended, I ſhall pro⯑ceed to ſome brief remarks upon utterance and [50] action, in which, though it is not probable that many will excel, yet moſt may be improved.

Firſt then, if a voice is naturally harſh, great care ſhould be taken to avoid guttural expreſ⯑ſion; nor ſhould the tongue be allowed to play too much between the teeth; the breath, drawn, as it were, from the ſtomach, and vibrated upon within the mouth, will ſoften harſh notes, and render them much more tuneable; on the con⯑trary, a weak ſhrill voice ſhould borrow ſolidity and force from the throat: as too great an expan⯑ſion of the lips is diſgraceful to the features, ſo un⯑natural contraction of them will render expreſſion unmeaning and imperfect.

Stops and cadences are a moſt eſſential point of conſideration, and cannot be better ſet forth than in the following remarks of a French author:

There is undoubtedly much judgment in the compoſition of harmonious and comprehenſive pe⯑riods; a diſſonant unconnected ſtyle will take greatly from the beauty and force of expreſſion, as a diſcordant piece of muſic muſt diſgrace a perfor⯑mance of the ableſt maſter, and injure the utter⯑ance of the moſt perfect inſtruments.

Frequent uſe ſtrengthens and meliorates the or⯑gans of expreſſion, and practice will teach a moſt eſſential point, that of pitching the voice to any place or number of perſons. There is conſidera⯑ble nicety in knowing the different effect which the ſame notes of voice may have in places of equal dimenſions, but of different conſtruction, of a place containing but few auditors, or thronged with a large number; and this point of excellence muſt be attained by much practice and obſervation. Only thus much may be obſerved in general of the operations of ſound; that where it undulates con⯑ſiderably, the louder a reader or declaimer goes beyond the juſt pitch, the more indiſtinct he will be, of which we find very frequent inſtances in cathedral churches: a full audience in any place will require at leaſt twice the force of expreſſion of a thin one; which, excluſive of ſome buzz that muſt unavoidably attend a numerous aſſembly, may be philoſophically accounted for by an eſſen⯑tial denſity of air, from the conjunct reſpiration of ſo many people.

The voice being pitched, and modulated thro' the ſeveral variations which may be found neceſſary, it remains to conſider, to comprehend, and to feel the ſubject; without which expreſſion muſt be languid, unaffecting, and weariſome. What we [52] read or ſpeak unfelt, muſt be like painting with⯑out light or ſhade; there may be juſt ſymmetry of parts and good colouring; but unleſs they are raiſed and brought forward, both pall on the view, and die upon the canvaſs.

Spirit and feeling are neceſſary to idea as well as to ſight; for which reaſon teachers ſhould not only make their pupils underſtand every word they read, but their general ſenſe in a ſtate of connec⯑tion: a point of care ſeldom attended to.

Emphatic expreſſion, feeling, and taſte, are par⯑ticularly eſſential to poetry, as that, in general, appeals oftner to the paſſions than any other ſpecies of writing. Cadences alſo are more critical in num⯑bers than in proſe; in both they ſhould be ſmooth, gradual, and die away almoſt inſenſibly, yet ſo as to preſerve and to impreſs the laſt ſyllable both upon the ear and mind, without ſnapping ſhort the breath or ſound, which is extremely grating to a judicious hearer.

How often is verſe of every kind miſerably mangled! A ſort of unmeaning pedantic recitative, tedious from a repetition of miſplaced unharmonious tones, is ſubſtituted for dignity; thus we find many, who make a tolerable ſhift with proſe, the moment they ſee any number of meaſured ſyllables, throw aſide nature, reaſon, nay even common ſenſe, to diſplay their knowledge of verſification, and what they think its peculiar importance.—What can be more abſurd? Genuine poetry needs no pom⯑pous affectation to dignify it; for as by tranſpoſing the words you cannot reduce it to proſe, neither can you take from its harmony by plain, natural expreſſion.

I know not any thing which has done our lan⯑guage, and the reading of it, more injury than the [53] gingle of rhime, eſpecially that which is thrown into heroic meaſure, it being certain that the more correct an author in that way is, the more he will lead to monotony. Inſtance Mr. Pope, who has been ſo critically exact in accenting particular ſyl⯑lables, that very few of his pieces can be read with any tolerable variation of voice; for which reaſon I would have learners kept from rhime in heroic meaſure till they are well grounded in a juſt mode of utterance. Indeed we are not to wonder that the generality chaunt verſe in ſo lamentable a man⯑ner, when ſome of thoſe who have ſketched rules for reading, inſiſt upon ſuch a ſervile obedience to the author, as not only to change the accented ſyllable, but even to favour his bad rhime, with falſe pronunciation; for example, to ſound the laſt ſyllable of liberty, as an exact rhime either to flee or fly.—To preſcribe a ſtop or half pauſe at the end of a line, whether the ſenſe requires it or not, is another rule that has been given, equally erro⯑neous and diſguſtful.

In reading, properly ſo called, action has no concern, but declamation is very defective without it; yet, except upon the ſtage, and among many there miſerably methodized, we ſcarce find any.—When I recommend action, I would not be ſuppoſed to intend that a ſpeaker ſhould be in continual motion; or that, puppet-like, he is to lift up firſt one hand and then another, merely to lay them down again.—No—I would have motions few, eaſy, graceful; and, for my own part, I know not how a declaimer can poſſibly feel and ſtand ſtock-ſtill: but, admit the poſſibility of this, I will venture to ſay there is but little probability that his audience will think him in earneſt: I know that ſome delicate perſons are afraid of be⯑coming [54] too theatrical; but there is a very wide difference between the action of an orator and an actor, unleſs when the latter judiciouſly repreſents the former; but I ſhall no further urge the neceſ⯑ſity of a point ſo obvious, let us proceed to the thing itſelf.

Firſt, then, action ſhould be entirely reſerved for thoſe paſſages which contain ſomewhat inte⯑reſting or important, as demonſtration, or the en⯑forcing of a charge. This ſhould be attended with the right arm ſtretched forward to the full extent, the fingers even, and the palm of the hand downwards, or ſometimes the hand turned ſide⯑ways, the fore finger only pointing: if the cir⯑cumſtance demonſtrated, or given in charge, be very momentous, the well known and admired action of St. Paul preaching at Athens, ſtretching forth both arms, palms downwards, has much force and propriety.

Where grief is to be expreſſed, the right hand laid ſlowly to the left breaſt, the head and cheſt bending forward, is a juſt indication of it. To expreſs confidence and reſolution, the ſame hand muſt move to the ſame place, but with quickneſs and vigour, recoiling as it were from the heart, which thereby ſeems to meet it. With this action the head ſhould be thrown back and the cheſt for⯑ward. The expreſſion of ardent affection, is to cloſe both hands warmly at half arm's length, the fingers intermingling, and to bring them to the breaſt with ſpirit. If expanſion of mind, or any thing ſimilar, is to be pointed out, then both arms ſhould be caſt different ways, in a parallel line, and the cheſt thrown open. Folding arms, with a drooping of the head, deſcribe contemplation; erection of the head ſpeaks dignity, or, with ſuit⯑able [55] features, contempt. There are ſome few other inſtances of action which may be graceful, and ſerves for variation, though not abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary; but theſe muſt be left to the choice and diſcretion of the declaimer, and to the uncon⯑ſtrained operation of judicious feeling: only thus much it may be neceſſary to obſerve, that the left hand ſhould ſeldom or never be uſed by itſelf; and that all action ſhould move between the tip of the ſhoulder and the ſeat of the heart; all above is what Shakeſpeare juſtly ſtyles ſawing the air; all below both unmeaning and ungraceful. Upon the whole, every motion ſhould be the natural attendant of what is ſpoken: if an extreme cannot be avoided, I would rather recommend no action than too much, or than ſuch as muſt offend judici⯑ous eyes.—Attitudes, or poſitions of the body, when happily ſtruck off and well applied, are not only pictureſque but ſtriking, all deſcription of them with a pen muſt be faint and confuſed, where⯑fore we refer to the pencil of ſome able painter.

To what has been already offer'd we ſhall ſub⯑join ſome uſeful remarks from an ingenious Trea⯑tiſe on the Art of Speaking.

It being far beyond the limits of our deſign to enter upon the general minutiae of our ſubject, we refer our readers for a circumſtantial deſcription of the effects which various affections and paſſions have upon the human features, to the ſtudious treatiſe we have juſt now quoted from; publiſhed by LONGMAN and BUCKLAND, Pater-noſter-row; though we think great part of it more curious than uſeful, for where the mind by nature, or repreſen⯑tation properly feels, the features will operate con⯑ſonantly; if words and looks are contrary, no ſym⯑pathy can be gained; in which caſe the main point is loſt.