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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 V THE DOMINION ELOCUTIONIST AND PUBLIC READER, A SYSTEM OF ELOCUTION FORMED ON THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE HUMAN VOICE AND THE LOGICAL STItUCTUUE OF LANGUAGF, WITH INSTRUCTION AND EXERCISES FOR THK CULTIVATION OF THE SPEAKING VOICE, AND FOR SUGGESTIVE METHODS OF SlUDY FOR READING THE DUAMA, PUETUV, THE HOLY SCUIITUKES, THE DELIVERY OF SERMONS, AND FOR PUBLIC SPEAKING ; TOGETHER WITH SELECTIONS IN ORATORY, FICTION, POETRY, AND THE DRAMA. EspecluUy adapted for Public Readings, Self-Instruction^ and for use in Schools and Cdleyes, BY RICHARD LEWIS, TEACUKU OF ELOCUTION. TORONTO: ADAM, STEVENtSON k CO. MONTREAL : JOHN LOVELL. 1872. PREFACE. The object of this work is two-fold^ It is designed as a manual for instruction in tlic art of elocution, and as a compendium of literary and oratorical selections for public reading and practice in delivery. The opinion that elocution is an art not necessary in a liberal education is passing away. Its importance is growing, because excellence in delivery, in the pulpit, at the bar, and on tho plat- form, id becoming indispensable to the success of the speaker; while the delight which accomplibhed and gifted readers give, in rendering the creations of the drama, of poetry and of fiction, without the accessories of the theatre, is doing much, not only to remove the impression that elocution consists in a stiflF and pom- pous theatrical mode of delivery, but to give evidence that the most natural delivery, when refined and correct, is the best elocution, Artificialness is defective art; and all pompous and artificial modes of reading and speaking are opposed to the laws of a true elocution, and are either the fruits of uncultivated natural habits or a false use of a true art. The prevalence of bad styles of deliv- ery, and the efforts made to correct bad styles by an imitative rather than a scientific method, led Dr. Whately to utter a protest against all elocutionary art and to recommend students to read in a "natural" manner. Tke difiiculty, however, must have arisen as to who did read naturally, and what intelligible meaning could bo given to this term " natural" as applied to delivery. The best delivery of the greatest orators and actors has always been the result of laborious culture, the extreme opposite of all natural examples of delivery. The most successful eloquence is that which expresses great thoughts, clothed in rhetorical language, with ele- gant and finishe d articmlation, and with all the graces of studied inflections and modulations of the cultivated voice ; and the greab aetors, whose impassioned representations of dramatic creations have ISO often and so powerfully swayed the hearts of juultitudes, ' I t il 4 J*reface, have owed their influence not alone to great natural gifts of con- ception and imagination, but to the most careful and diligent study of the language they uttered and of the character they impersona- ted. The habits and vices of common life are incessantly corrupt- ing or checking the finest impulses of nature; and, excepting iu childhood, it is rarely possi? le to recur to an example which would be a competent guide for natural delivery or the representation of pasi«lon. 13 ut there can be no doubt that a natural delivery is that which is mobt in harmony with refinement and with the highest art. True art is the child of nature. But we can only get back to nature by the aid of art. As well might the painter or tho sculp- tor be told to paint on his canvas, or to carve the unpolished marble, naturally, that is, without studying the science and prac- tiijiiug the elementary laws of his art, as tell the student of delivery that he may acquire excellence without a knowledge of that elocu- tion, whose principles constitute a true science, because they are derived from natural laws. It is vain to trust to loftiness of thought, to pure diction, or to the force of truth, as sufficient to move and convince men, without the ornaments of delivery, when the purpose is to bo accomplished by oral speech. Elocution is a part of eloquence, and the most admirable composition will fail if the reader incessantly neglects or violates the laws of sound elocu- tion. "As a good piece of music, budly performed, fails of its proper effect, and either awakens no emotions at all or a wholly different class from those which are intended, so the best discourse cither falls powerless and dead, or exerts an influence to defeat its own aims, and delivery is to discourse what performance is to music." * In no instjmce do these views receive stronger con- firmation than in the ministrations of the pulpit. The most defective elocution often marks the delivery of clergymen, in other respects fully qualified by education and intellectual gifts for theii office. Sermons of a high order, graceful, nervous and correct iu language, logical, eloquent, and earnest in thought, often fail • Elocution. College, ,,^ By J. H. MgllvaJBe, Pro£ Qf BcUes L«tti;e8 itt I'rittcetoa I t Prefacf, fts of coa- gcnt study impersona- lly corrupt- Lccpting in liich would cntutioQ of that wliich ighest art. ;ct back to • tho sculp- unpolishcd D and prac- of delivery that clocu- 30 they are oftiness of ufficient to very, when cution is a will fail if )und elocu- fails of it3 a wholly t discourse ) defeat its ance is to •onger con- The most n, in other s for theii correct in often fail 1 l:*rijo,ceton utterly in their intended cflFort, and would Bcarccly be tolerated but for the sacrcdness of the eubjcct and the place, because the miiii&tcr is wanting in one great quality of eloquence, an expressive elocution. The sublime and beautiful compositions of the Holy Scri]»ture3 are often perverted in their meaning and lose all their force because they are read without earnestness, without dignity, without expression, and often without elegance and correct arti- culation. It is only when some one of high elocutionary culture, who puts soul and intellect into voice, wields the same sacred instrument of religious power, that we learn how much the pul- pit loses by its negligence of this art, how much it would gain by its study and mastery. The literary entertainments, commonly termed Penny Readingi, commenced in England, and now becoming highly popular in this country, have given a new impulse to the necessity for the instruc- tion which this work is intended to supply. Elocution is fast taking the same rank in this regard as music ; and, if the literary attractions have not always been as successful or satisfactory as the musical, it has been owing to the fact that the singer ht.s studied his art scientifically, while the reader has been utterly ignorant of the laws of delivery. It is, however, of the first impor- tance that the taste created i'or this kind of entertainment should be strengthened and encouraged. To bring home to the Iiearts of the people the rich treasures of genius, to realize the wonderful creations of the poet and the writer of fiction, or to renew the eloquence which once roused nations into action, cannot fail to elevate and advance the hearers ; while the gifted reader, who dramatizes and impersonates character, as he renders a tragedy of Shakspeare, supplies an entertainment which will diminish the attractions of the theatre, and which is free from its dangerous associations. The courses of lessons which this work presents are intended first to cultivate the speaking voice, and secondly to instruct the student in the principles, and the rules derived from them, which constitute a natural elocution. The first department of the work is physical and the second intellectual. The cultivation of the speaking voice is of the first importance, especially to those Preface. \ irho arc professionally engaged in addressing the public, whether fVom the pulpit, the platform, the bar, or the reading desk. The vocal exercises are indispensable to expression. The cultivated ppeaking voice has ita own rich and fascinating music — a music capable of expressing every shade of thought and passion. It is not absolutely necessary that the student should have a previous musical training. It is only necessary that he should acquire the power to distinguish and perform the inflections and pitch of voico; and a very limited knowledge of the gamut will suffice for this purpose ; while daily practice in the methods suggested, and with the exercises supplied, will bring the sure fruit of success. The application of vowel sounds and syllables forms the first steps to this culture ; and, to quote the words of Professor IluUah, " should he find the recitation of these isolated sounds (with all the variations of inflection proposed) tiresome or ludicrous, he must remember that all preparatory exercises, mental even as well as physical, are apt to appear so, partly, no doubt, because practice is wasted, excepting on what wc can yet do only imperfectly. It would of course be more amusing to recite connected than uncon- nected words, as it is more amusing to sing passages than single notes ; but as assuredly no singing voice ever yet was formed by the exclusive utterance of anything that could be called music, so no speaking voice will ever yet be formed by the exclusive utterance of anything that can be called literature."* When the voice has been trained to flexibility, and the car to acuteness of perception, so that pitch and a rising and falling inflection can be executed at will, the student may then bring intellect to bear upon the application of the voice to the laws of thought and speech. As language is the great instrument of expression, he must have some knowledge of its nature and laws. A knowledge of the parts of speech is of great value, and as the relationship and dependence of thought can only be understood by a grammatical analysis of the sentence, a special lesson explana- tory of this department of language is introduced into the instruc- tion. Great objections have very justly been made to the multiplicity of rules that appear in many works of elocution ; and • The Cultivation of the Speaking Voice. By John Hullah. Preface, 7 xvlien rulcil are crowded on the mind, without a reference to the prmciples from which they are derived, they perplex the learner. In this work rules are not discarded, for they are valuable for reference and illustration ; but in all instances, where the subjects of inflection, modulation, emphasis and pause are explained, the student is first made familiar with the principles and the rationale of such rules ; and it may be safely added, that ho who has made himself master of the principle, will have little necessity aflbcrwards to refer to rules for his guidance. In addition to these necessary departments of elocutionary culture, special chapters have been prepared for professional purposes, for the clergyman, for the public speaker and the publio reader. In this respect, the work will not only be found useful as a class book for schools and colleges; but of great assistanco to students who have not had the advantage of professional instruo> tion, and who wish to become their own instructors. The Selections in the work have been made for the purpose of practice and publio readings. It is a great mistake to believe that beauty of composition or splendor of thought is sufficient to recommend a piece for publio reading. It must, in addition to these qualities, have dramatic power. There must be something to keep alive the attention of an audicpcc ; there must, in every selection for public reading, be passion, fire, and startling eflfect, or the best delivery will fail to make it attractive. When it possesses these qualities it is the best suited for public reading or elocutionary purposes. Many of the selections are new to elocu- tionary manuals, but they have had the test of experience to recommend them; they have been selected because they have proved successful as public readings. These, however, arc not their only claim to preference. They present some of the finest examples of eloquence. The practical and dramatic selections, and those from works of fiction, possess the highest qualities with which genius makes its creations delightful, attractive, and eleva- ting. A new feature has also been added to many of these selections. A scene extracted from a drama or a tale often needs explanation, — some knowledge of the plot with which it is interwoven, — and it is always satisfactory to an audience or to I ! $ Preface, a roadcr, and certainly adds to the intcrcBt and pleasure arlnin^ from tbo reading, when the reader introduecs his selection with some brief narrative of the subjeet and the aasociatcd events. With this view, many of the most important selections have an introduction of this kind, which certainly is more likely to please an audience, than a brief statement of the name of the author, the date of his birth and death, and the names oi all the works he has written. This work is, to a large extent, a compilation, and, while the author may claim some degree of originality for his method, he gratefully acknowledges his obligations to the philosophical work of Dr. Hush, who must ever be regarded as the founder of a scientific elocution; to Mr. Oeoi^ Vandenhoff, whose popular readings have done so much to advance a taste for the art ; to the work of Mr. Russell on the Culture of the Voice ; of Professors Bell, of London and Dublin ; the lectures of Professor Plumptre, of King's College, London ; and to A System of Elocution by W. S. Ross. Acknowledgment is duo also to the Authors, native and foreign, from whose works selections have been made, and to the. Publishers who may hold any proprietary interests in these selec- tions. . „ Toronto, October, 1871. 1*J ^■ .-.I I , ..!„. ■ / ■»< •- -•-• -,^. ♦> irc nrinin}? 1 Bclectiott ted events. tions have likely to ame of the >g oi all the I, wliilo the his method, philosophical founder of a bosc popular oart-, to the [)f Professors or Plumptre, cution by W. rs, native and |de, aud to the in these selec- CONTENTS. PnFFACR Intkodiction. TAOr 2 . 13 Paiit I.-INSTHrCTION IN ELOCUTION. Ciilliirc and Mnnngt'nii'Ut of tlie V(»ic»> Oiiniut for tlic Practice of Pitch an»i Modulntioii Numerical Notutioii of KngllHli Vowels or Tonics Exercises in Articulation Qualities of Voice Accent , Time Accent and Time of Poetry. Part H.—INTELLECTrAL ELOCUTION. Rules for Inflection Rising Intlection , Falling Inflection , Circumflex Inflections Monotone Exercises in Inflection Interrogations Modulation— Pitch of Voice and Time Grouping of Speech Rhetorical Pauses Rules for Pauses Grammatical Grouping of Words Emphasis Public Reading ; The Elocution of the Pulpit Public Speaking Gesture and Facial Expression MISCELLANEOUS PROSE SELECTIONS. A Camp Meeting in Texas Dante and Milton Death of Marie Antoinette Descrii)tion of the Queen of France Dives and the Hand of Death Education in Canada Elements of Social Advancement Evil Effects of Suppressing Inquiry How David Copperheld Wooed and Won Dora How the Tide Turned Intellectual Sphere of Women Labor Mr. Winkle on Skates On Human Grandeur [Riccabocca on Revolution [The Death of Little Nell The Fall of Jerusalem— 1780— 1 800 [The Judgment of Herkenbald ;The Past and Present of Canada I The Schoolmaster and the Conqueror Trial of the Covenanters John Gouqh Lord Macdulay Thomas Cnrlyle Edmund Burke G. A. Sola Kev. ./. McCaul, LLJJ. Rev. E. Hyerson^ />./> . John Milton Charles J)ickens Thomas Hughes John Stuart Mill , Thomas Carlyle Charles Dickens Oliver Goldsmith Lord Lytton Charles Dickens Rev. G. Croly W. A. Foster, LL.Ji. Lord Brougham Sir Walter Scott ORATORICAL SELECTIONS. Address to fl e American Congress Patrick Henry. 15 20 26 38 44 47 48 57 59 (13 07 70 72 74 77 83 85 86 90 92 99 113 125 135 172 183 178 177 150 184 185 175 1(34 152 181 17& 167 174 141 156 109 102 186 180 145 191 r 10 Contents. 'ill' t;' m Against Roligious Distinctions, 179G JittliUict! of Power Caimdians and Ainericuns C'liaiMcler of Napolcoa Bonaparte Conti'deratiouof tboB. N. A. I'rovinces.... Coii«((iiieuces aiul Wickeduoss of War.... Decliinitiou of Irisli Rights, 1780 Duty of tlie Stale to Educate the Peojile. Eriyliuid and America Great Mi ids in their Relation to Cliristianity. How I'utriuts uiav be Made IrapeacliiJient of Warren Jlnstiiijrs Irish Aliens and English Victories Magiiiiniinily in Politics, 1775 Mr. Slieridan's Invective against Mr. Hastings Non-intervention Policy Non-intervention Policy On Co iciliating the Colonies On Parliamentary Innovations On liic Death of tlie Dnke of Wellington On the Liberty of the British Press On tlie State of the Law Sectarian Tyr.mny, 1812 The lialance of Power, 182G The iJeautifnl in Nature and Art The <^)stof War The Earl of Stratford's Defence The End of Government The Fate of the Reformer, 1830 The FirstStep to Reconciliation with America The Legislative Union, 18;{4 Uniuu with Great Britain, 1800 J. P. Curran John Bright Josi'.jth llowe Charles Phillipx r. D'Arcy McUee .... John Jirighl llenrji Grattan Jjord Macaulay Sir James Macintosh Lord l-'r»kine Sir Robert Walpole... Edmund Burke H. L. Sheil E Imun^l Burke J oh n Uriijhi , Richard Vobden , Edtii und Burke Beaufoy B. IHsraeli Hir James Macintosh Jjord Brougham Henry (hattan (ho. Cannini) W. E. Uladkone John Bright John J'ym Bord Brougham Earl Chatham iSir Robert J'eel . Henry Grattan .. AOE 207 220 241 215 238 223 204 217 199 235 191 200 208 190 202 226 226 192 214 228 237 211 206 219 231 222 189 190 213 195 210 205 SACRED ORATORY. Benevolence of God Thos. Chahners, JJ.D.... 248 Faith in the Holy Spirit Canon Liddon 268 Inducement to Earnestness in Religion J. A. James 255 Life Eternal C. 11. Spurgeon 259 Necessity of Law Richard Hooker 244 Paul before Agrippa 266 Psahn XC— Isaiah LV 265 Self Reliance and Prayer W. M. Punshon, M.A. .. 262 Sympathy- F. W. Robe risen 251 The Cruciiixion Bossuet 245 The Future Suite of the Blessed Progressive.. U Melvill, JJ.D 249 The Hope of Heaven John Caird, D.D 261 The Influence of Satan Thos. Chalmers, D.D... . 246 The Majesty of Christ W. A. Butler 256 Zaccheus and the Sympathy of Christ F. W. Robertson 253 POETICAL SELECTIONS. Abou Ben Adhem and the Angel Leigh Hunt 339 Arria G. E. Jewsbury 293 Barbara Frietchie J. G. Whittier 394 Battle of Flodden and Death of Marmion Sir Walter Scott 428 Bingen on the Rhine Hon. C. Norton 377 " Borrioboola-Gha." Anon 337 Burial March of Dundee W. E. Aytoun 372 Contents. 11 VAOE 207 220 241 215 238 223 204 217 199 2:^5 191 200 208 19(j 202 226 226 192 . ... 214 228 1 237 211 206 219 231 222 189 190 213 195 210 205 />.... 248 268 255 259 244 266 265 3I.A. .. 262 251 245 249 261 D.D.... 246 256 253 339 293 394 428 377 337 372 i Comniuiiion with the Dead Conto-t l)etwt'en the Aiigcl Gabriel .mi Saian Cow|Mi's (liiivc Deatli iif (Adistance Elihu KngliiiKi';! Dead Evelyn Mitjjo Even! ;g" Prayer at a Girl's Scliool. p] verm ore Faitlitiii at Vanity Fair ... Fatlur- of N'i'vv England (Jive .Me Thv ileart High :i I igii I'f-itinies of Man H oral ins Jacqn.- Curlier John ]!ni\vn Kin}? Ariliur and Queen Guinevere Ijady CI ire Lady (ixliva iOcliiavar Loiiist- on tlie Doorstep Lyciiia- Maiden liood Marco IJoz/.arid Mars ton Moor Oran-e and Green Paradi-e and tlie Peri Puncii and Jiidv Ring out, W'ildlkdls Rock Me to Sleep Santa Filomena Selection from "The Princess" Sneecli of Belial in Council The Battle uf Naseby The Beautiful Snow The Bridge of Sighs The Bugh' Song The B irial of Moses The Cane-Bottora'd Cliair The Ciiarge of the Light IJrigade The Christian Pauper's Death-bed The (.Mmri and the True Gentlennin The E.x.'cutiun of Montrose The Field of Waterloo The Funeral of Napoleon I The Fuiieial of Wellington The Hi>,diTide on tlie Coast of Lincolnshire 1571 The Isles of Greece The Ladv's Dream The M;iy Queen The Xi \vs of a Day The Old Clock on the Stairs The (tld Corporal The Pas^ion^ The Pieket of the Potomac The Piimrose The Private of the Buflfs r" """ A. Tenniifon ■ .John Milton K. li. Browninff , Sir Wolter ScuU A/ice Cttrey F. Ilerniins R. ISrowning F. lleni'ins Anon iJimih Muloch S/mti/uc Aih'liii express in manner in J its fullest the nature luman Voice, islcal systora, i3 advisable, ctions; since T treatise?, be 0063 to thing3 f philosophy, erbal classes, and name in ■ing upon this m of sound is )f this work, I lifficulty. He ;al music, and t, will under- While he who ;ular scale by other subjects rse to a living In harmony with such views which are thoroughly sound and pliilosophical, Elocution may he properly divided into two hranchcs: I. Physiological, comprehending the culture and management of the voice and the organs of speech ; and II. the Intellectual, comprehending the study of the language and thought of an author, and the logical application of Principles to expressive delivery. PART I. INSTRUCTION IN ELOCTUTTON. Culture and Management of the Voice. The vocal organs consist of the lungs, the trachea or windpipe, the mouth with its various parts, the palate, tongue, teeth and lips, and the nasal organs. The lungs and trachea perform the first ofiico. The lungs contain the air, but are themselves otherwise ■ passive. The thorax (or bony pides of the chest) by the action of the dorsal muscles expels tV from the lungs. The air passes along the trachea until it reaches the rima or opening chink, at tlio top, and then enters the back part of the mouth. If no fur- ther effort be used than the action of the will on the rima, sound only issues from the mouth ; but if speech, the utterance of words, be added, the organs of speech, instantaneously and simultaneously with this expulsion of breath, commence their action, and words arc uttered. ^ 2. The first effort then must bo that of filling the lungs with tir, and as a greater amount of air is required /or public reading »nd speaJeing than conversation, the conditions for constantly Replenishing the lungs must be carefully attended to. I 3. The normal attitude must be that of standing at ease, with |he person erect, the head elevated, but not with stiffness, and the ^oulders thrown back, so as to give the lungs full scope for action.* "m • ■ _^____^_^__^_^_^_ \ • This does not mean that we are to stand unmoved like statues. The |ody may, for expressive attitudes, vary its position, incline forwards, backwards, or sideways, or for relief occasionally lean on the Reader's 4esk, but the normal attitude must never be forgotten. These views have "Bceived further confirmation from Prof. Hullah in his essays on the culti- ition of the speaking voice. Much, however, of what Prof. Hullah says 13 been anticipated in Dr. Rush's work. 16 Instruction in i [ '; 4. The breathing must be regular and noiseless. The speaker must not exhaust his lungs, and then, with a great gulping effort, refill them. Ho must start with a full breath, and continue deliberately to breathe during tho highest excitenaejit. a^ §very rhetorical pause. 5. Tho breath must at all times, during speech or silence, but above all during speech, he drawn in through the nostrils. G. This mode of breathing may be done without closing the mouth, which during speech would be an awkward interruption, by a slight application of the upper surface of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, accompanied at the same time with a very slight and almost imperceptible drawing back of the head. 7. During the act of speaking the utmost care must be taken to economize the breath. AH the breath that issues from the mouth must be resolved into distinct sound. If the vocal effort be marked by huskiness or strong aspirations, such a mingling of breath with sound as may be felt by the hand, or as would blow out the flame of a candle, there are waste and irritation of the vocal organs. " The action upon the sound by the organs of speech will exercise a due control over the expulsion of the breath. This action of articulation not only counteracts but, in fact, forms the muscular support of the trachea, which would otherwise be forced from its position by the breath."— "^^« Human Vuice," by the Rev. W. W. Cazalet, M.A. Cantab. Vocal Gyrnnast'ics. 8. The following exercises must be practised daily with full attention to the conditions already given. Their purpose is to give control over the vocal organs, to enlarge their power, and to improve the tone and purity of the voice. They may be practised separately or in succession for a period of ten or fifteen minutes each time. While they are indispensable to the special end in view, they are also highly beneficial to general health. 9. Exercise I. Read aloud any passage of prose or poetry, with especial reference to breathing frequently and through the nostrils. (5) 10. Exercise IL Inhale a full breath, hold on for a moment, then pour out the breath in a regular, deep and calm stream as if uttering the sovmd " ah,'^ Repeat this six or twelve times. Elocution. 17 11. Exercise III. — Draw in the breath again (through tho nos- trils) and, after a momentary suspension, expel it with a sudden and powerful impulse like the effort of a cough. Repeat as in II. Let the pause between each exercise bo as brief as possible. f!>fv 12. Exercise IV. — Head any passage of poetry in a distinct, powerful whisper, such as shall exhaust tho lungs after every two or three words. Let the enunciation be clear, deliberate, finished and audible, as if shouting in a whisper loud enough to be heard at some distince from the f^pcaker, the mouth boing rounded as in speaking " awe," and the voice issuing from the chest rather than the lips. This is a very difficult exercise but of the first Impor- tance in strengthening the vocal organs. It cannot bo continued beyond ton or fifteen minutes, and when tho student feels a dizzi- ness in the head he must cease. 13. ExcrciscV. — The next exercise is thus described by Dr. Rush. *' It is preceded by a cessation of the voice. There seems to be a momentary occlusion in the larynx, or somewhere, to speak with caution, by which the breath is barred and accumulated for tho purpose of a full and sudden discharge." In other words let the I tudent open his mouth to its full extent. The lungs are well filled with air, the rima or mouth of the windpipe closed and then the sounds " ah" " oh" " awe" &c., are as it were, driven forcibly, sharply and suddenly out, with an effect like an explosion. Let the same exercise be performed with the highest de»^ree pf {qipcg on BUch syllable as the following: ^ . . " Arm, All, On, Off, Begone. Back, Quick, Stand, Die." It may also be compared to a loud and suddeu cough, without its aspiration, or the ringing '-ha, lia'^ of a hearty laugh. It is recommended to all who have weak voices, and is most important to public readers and speakers, who wish to acquire an instantar neous control over the commanding and startling functions of tho voice. Caution. — When practising these exercises, the chin, lips and tongue must bo immovable, the act of vocalization must be easy and graceful ; the student must avoid moving his head up and down in sympathy with the vocal action ; the shoulder and chest be 'r>i» ■ J I I 18 InBtruction in V » I a held steadily up, not falling as the lungs are emptied ; and the expulsion of breath be executed by the muscles of the thorax and the diaphragm. Pitch and Inflection. 14. Speakers and readers, ignorant of the principles of elocu- tion, have the most confused and erroneous ideas of pitch and inflection. Very few can distinguish between a rising and falling inflection and the pitch of the voice ; yet the great power land charm of that impressive delivery wliich characterizes alike the accom- plished orator, actor or reader, are chiefly due to these two actions of the voice, and, however excellent the matter, the force and meaning of thought are weakened and distorted, and their beauty marred by a violation of the principles which should guide the management of the voice. It is, therefore, of the first importance that the student of elocution should train his voice and ear as early as possible, so that the former shall acquire flcxiblcness and purity of tone, and the latter shall distinguish instantaneously the slightest modifications of vocal sounds. 15. It is not necessary to success in expressive delivery that the student should have a musical training and a musical ear. It will, however, greatly facilitate the end in view if he can so master the gamut as to be able to run up and down the scale with correctness, and to distinguish one sound from another. He must be able to change the tones of his voice from a low pitch to a middle pitch and to a high pitch, and to slide his voice upwards and downwards at will, and know when he does this in harmony with his will. 16. The DEEPEST TONES of the voice are essential to all solemn delivery ; the middle or conversational tones are the most easy and natural, and should form the normal voice of the speaker and reader. The higher tones are those we assume under the influence of great excitement and earnestness. The deepest tones require special attention to the vocal organs ; the lungs must be well filled ; the tone should originate in the back of the mouth, while the mouth itself is hollowed, rounded as it were, and kept Bufl&cicntly open to give power to the tone. 17. To command these tones, so as to assume at once th.e proper Elocution. 19 pitch required, the student should practice on the gamut what is 'tailed the Diatonic Scale, striking the lowest note and then ascend- ing to the highest. Ascen'Ung. Ho Ke IVIl Fa Sol La in All All I— S»- tzs: 1122:: M Do Ro IVII Ah Ah Ah Ah All Ah Ah Ah IVII Re Do Descendinff. Si La Sol Pa ITII Re Do i^iiH^^iiiiiPllii tr Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Let the Student practice this musical scale until lie can distin- guish at least between a hir/U note and a low one. This will give some idea of pitch. The lowest note Do ascending might be regarded as a low pitch, the notes from Fa to La a,s the middle pitch and 'A\ succeeding notes as high pitch. It will add to the advantage of the practice, and greatly improve what, in musical language, is called pure tone, if the student will practice the scale in the following method adopted from Russell's "Orthophony." 18. " Immediately before producing each sound, breath should be taken so as completely to inflate the lungs ; and, after pausing an m.stant, with the chest well expanded, the sound should I commence witli firmness, but with great softness, tlion be gradually augmented to the loudest degree, and succeeded by being as gradually diminished to the degree of force with which it began. Each tone should be prolonged from eighteen to twenty seconds. I This exercise as a general rule should be continued for about two [months ; singing the scale daily about four times. " — Professor J. |C Webh, of the Boston Academy of Music. 19. The cliief object of the above exercise is to give the pupil I a knowledge o{ pitch, and to purify the voice ; and the following I diagram of the diatonic scale practised as directed below will be of i other further service. • <> M 20 Instruction in I 1 i IK GAMUT FOR THE PRACTICE OF PITCH AN'D MODULATION. {Adapted from " A St/stem qf Ehculiou," L>/ W. S. Jioaa.) 8th (Octave.) DO. \lo! tbomightysunlooVsforth.l '^""0 "/ '^'g^ c*0'<« lUOllt. -XI ,o .» > L.. I Arm tlioii, the loader of the \ i>i,.. ...,„ „i„.^ 7th (Semitone.) SI. \ north' \ rlorclng alarm. Cth Tone. r » \ Oh, then 1 Koo Queen Mub lias \ , „, „„ ... i,„_„. ''^- \ been whh you. \ Joy or high humor. 6th Tono L .° , \ Lo! they com'*, ;,'arluu«.U for \ ,, ,,■,,,„„ (Dominant SOL. \ every ehriue. , \ Bold lone. ]iitch.) 4th Tone (Sub-domi- nant.) I 3rd (Semi- tone.) FA. Seasons return; but nut tome returns , ,,, Day, or the ewoot n]>proach of \ Oiavo lono. even or morn. MI. Othou eternal Mover of the Heavens \ Solemn and Look with a gentle eye upon \ caruost appeal. this wretch. 2ad Tone. 1st Tono (Key-note.)l BE. Fountain of Light Tliyself in- visible. Solemn orcv tuud Tone. DO. Oh, coward conscience how \ Tpne of so- thou dost affright me. » lomnaweor terror. 20. Explanation and method of practice. This diagram is another form of the gamut (17). The student must strike, as nearly a» he can the lowest note Do on the scale. Then let him read slowly and distinctly in one tone, that on which lie commenced the lines beginning " Oh, coward conscience," &c. He must then ascend one note lie, and, in a similar manner sounding it, read the line '' Fountain of Light." In this manner lie proceeds upwards, sounding each key note and then reading in monotone, but not chanting the lines attached to that note. After reaching the upper Do, he may with equal advantage descend the scale in a similar manner. This should be done many times in succession until the ear becomes familiar with each pitch. When this amount of progress is attained, the student should endeavour next to take up any line and key note at once, and without run. ning through the whole diagram to "strike" it. The lowest Elocution. 21 r high humor. tones, cspcciully the Do should bo tho most frequently practised. Tho lowest tones form the natural basis of tho voice and their development by practice not only gives clearness and purity but id most important for tho utterance of solemn and dignified thought, or of pathos and passion. Injhction. 21. Dr. Hush has termed the movement of tho voice on tho musical notation discrete and the speaking inflection or upward and downward slide of the voice concrete. When tho singing voice passes from Do to lie from Jie to Mi, &c., it pauses between each sound, steps as it were from one sound to another; but when the speaking voice in the following question, asked with passionate earnestness, slides upwards on the word " palm," it moves through at least five note?», say from Do to Sof, with one coutinuous slida and without ;iny pause. "I an itching palm?" There is no subject in the science of elocution that demands more earnest attention than this of inflection. There is no more common or greater defect in the delivery of public speakers and all kinds of readers than this one of inflection. Not one reader in a hundred, educated or uneducated, can instantly discriminate between a rising and a falling inflection; and the difficulty is increased when the exact extent of the inflection must be measured by the ear to give the delivery due expression. Yet, as Professor Plumptre justly remarks: "nothing adds more to the grace, elegance and full efiect of reading or speaking than the right use of the inflections of the voice." 22. The student must first acquire the physical power to inflect the voice at will and with grace, and an nature and compass of the inflection. "ear" to determine tho '• • ; r- , Definitions. (a) When the inflection is a rising one the voice slides upwards. (6) When the inflection is & falling one it slides downwards, (c) When the two elides are combined the inflection is called eircumjlex. 22 Instruction in H> *l I 4 Ml ; : i I H! (J) The combination takoa two forms: (1) an upward followed without pause or interval by a downward iofloction ; (2) a down- ward followed by an upward. (e) In groat carncstuoss and pasHiun a 8till further combination id given. (y) When the tone i.s continuiitlve, it is called monotone. Explanation. — Tiio monotone mcians one and tlic same tone. There is a bli^^ht ui)w;ird inflection in the most regular monotone; but it is scarcely jxTceived by the car, and as the same tone is applied to each word, tlie term i.s an ai)propriatc one. It has boon compared to tljc continuous tolling of a boll, swelling and dying on the car. It* the studoiit will now strike the sound Do on the gamut, and slide upward witli his voice in a continuous stream until he reaches the hiulu'st Do, ho will sound a rising inflection, and if he then '^tart iVoni the hi^lier Do and slide downward in a like continuous stream he will sound the falling inflection. 23. The di'll'ct of ear and vocal power in this department of elocution is, however, so general that the following practice is further reconnncnded : Do-Re Do.ini Do-Fa Do-Sol Do.La Do-Sl Do-Do Do-Re '^Z?' :221C st>- 125: :=Z22; All Ah -S>- Ah Ah All Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Ah Explanation. — Having struck as nearly as possible the lowest note, let the voice ascend on the exclamation " aA," one note, which may be called a ditone. Again, starting on the same lowest note let it run up to the next note marked Mi, and so let the practice be continued through the scale. The expression in the first or second bar would be one of careless indiflference ; from the first to the fourth or fifth it would be one of wonder ; while that from the first to the highest would be a tone of passionate earnest- ness or alarm. Having run through the scale on the upward slide, the student should next descend on the scale in a similar sliding manner. When the voice has received no culture and is strongly governed by provincial tones, the descent will be more irregular*" Elocution. 23 dofectlvo, niul difficult than the nsoont. Tho niovcment on the Btrinp^s of a violin will aid the oar and the voice in thin practice. But difficult as it will no doubt bo, especially to adults, the dlffi,culty must he ovrrcomc. A correct and Hwit't power of inflectioa is indispensable to expressive delivery. 24. In conjunction with this cxcrciso on " ah,^' the following and Bimilar table of questions and answers should bo read, the Btudont varying the compass or extent of the inflection from tho tone of indiff(>rence or the fUtone to that of extreme carnestne.sji or the octave. Tho practice must be contlnui'd daily in both cases in propor- tion to the dulncss of the car and the inflexibility of the voice. 25. Tho mark (') indicates a rising inflection. The mark (* ) indicates a f;dling inflection. 2G. Rising inflcctton followed by the Falling, Did ho say idle or idol ? Did he say mettle or metal ? Did he call Mary or John ? Should wo say Yes or No ? We should not say evil, but ev'l. Falling inflection followed hy the Rising. II(.i .said idle, not idol. He said mettle, not metal. He called IMary, not John. He should say Yes, not No. He should say ev'l, not evil. Observe. — As the voice difters in sex and in each individual, it is not necessary that the starting key-note or first tono of inflection should be equally low or high. Each student must adopt his or her lowest tone for the starting point, and then advance on the slide as directed. 27. Any words or syllables will do for this practice, and, after the student has gained some facility in it, he should arbitrarily select words and give them either inflection. School teachers, with whom chiefly lies the work of reformation and general improvement in reading and elocution, will find it an excellent practice, both for themselves and their pupils, if they direct their pupils to give either inflection at command and without refcrenca to principles or rules. 28, The circumflex inflection. The student who has acquired ' ^1 I , 'i ■ ' ..IS I .11 24 Instruction in the power of giving l)otli inflections will have nO difficulty Willi the circumflex inflections. It will, however, give additional flexibility to the voice and acuteness to the ear, if the two inflections be /—N /-\ v—^ ^-y united, first on such sounds as ah, oh, &c., as ah oh, ah oh, and then on words as : No doubt ye arc the people, and Wisdom will*die With you. 29. The student who has carefully atid diligently pi^ri^tiscd these lessons on the management of the breath and the Voice, on pitch and inflection, must not confine himself to the exercises laid down. He may apply the new powers he has thus gained to general reading with safety and advantage. Further studies will enable him to judge more correctly, but the culture of the voice and ear must be constant. For practice in breathing and pitch let appropriate exercises be Selected from this volume, and daily reading aloud be as constant a duty as any other pursuit ; and, what- ever inflection is to be given, let the student give that inflection at will, and carefully listen to his voice to ascertain that he did give the intended inflection. This preparatory culture of ear and voice will make the application of rules— the intellectual department of elocution — an exercise of comparative ease. Judgment, conception, tind some grammatical knowledge will then be sufficient to make the delivery expressive and truthful. Articulation, 30. The previous lessons have reference to the culture and management of the voice. By this culture the speaker succeeds in making himself heard. The student is now to learn that a well-trained voice is but an instrument which, without other and higher qualities, will be of little value in the expression of thought and passion. 31. Articulation and the true sounding of the vowel elements are the first essentials in making ourselves understood by an audience. A good articulation consists in giving every letter and syllable of a word its full and finished sound. 32. A public speaker possessed of only a moderate voice, if hd Elocution* 25 articulates correctly, will bo better understood, and heard with greater pleasure, than one who vociferates without distinct articu- lation. The voice of the latter may indeed extend to a consider- able distance, but the sound is dissipated in confusion. Of the former voice not the smallest vibration is wasted ; every stroke is perceived at the utmost distance to which it reaches ; and hence it has often the appearance of penetrating even farther than one which is loud, but badly articulated. " In just articulation the words are not to be hurried over nor precipitated syllable over syllable, nor as it were melted together into a mass of confusion ; they should not be trailed or drawled, nor permitted to slip out carelessly so as to drop unfinished ; they should be delivered from the lips as beautiful coin, just issued from the mint, deeply and accurately impressed, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct in due succession, and of due weight." — Austin's Cliironomia. 33. Introductory to instruction and practice in articulation, the student must form a clear and correct idea ot the elementary sounds of the letters of lanaiuage. These sound- have nothincj to do with the najnes of such letters ; the names arc clumsy and unphilosophical means by which children are torttir^d into the art of reading. Elocution discards the names, but demands the closest attention to the true sounds of letters as they occur in words. 34. The vowel sounds. — The scientific arrangement of the alphabet is due to Dr. Rush, and, as it is the best adapted, both for simplicity and appropriateness, to the end in view, it is, with some slight modifications and additions, adopted in this work and recommended to the earnest attention of the student. 35. The vowel sounds have a full tone, can be sounded by the action of the lungs, the trachea and the pharynx, and the modifi- cations of the vaulted arch of the palate, and arc therefore called TONICS. 37. It is of the first importance that the student should understand the capabilities, i. e., the true sounds of these tonics. (1) because they aid in correcting vulgarisms and provincialisms; (2) because they are the means by which slow and expressive reading is effected. 26 Instruction in ^: Ji NUMERICAL NOTATION OF ENGLISH VOWELS OR TONICS. 1' ::., '• ill JJ L E M E N T S . ( [From IMV sPr Inciplcs ( jf Speech.) 1. ( :-) cc-1 8. (-) ca-rn 2. ( ' "-' \ i-ll--f= 1). K") u-rn u-p, 3. ( r \ a-lef 10. (-n a-11, o-n, 4. ( '■^—^ c-11, c-re 11. ( ^ o-re 5. ( ' '"' ^ a-u 12. (-) o-ldt 6. ( a-sk 13. ir^) p-oo-1, p-ull 7. ( a-h Compound Sounds. 7-1, I-sle; 7-13, Ow-1; 10-1, Oi-1. 38. Observations on the Tonics. — Tlie tonic or vowel I, as in No. 2, is liable to abuse iu this country in such words as : Ability wrongly pronounced abilaty docility '• '• docilaty lenitive " " lenative That is the i is cither sounded like a or ?/, but should be sounded always like i iny?t, brt, sill,ji?ll, &c, 39. The A in elegant utterance vanishes or ends slightly in ce as in gate, ail, &c., which, by a refined English speaker would be pronounced ga {ee) te, a (ce) /, &c. Speakers from the north of Ireland and Scotland betray their nationality by omitting this sound, as ga-ate, b-a-ate. 40. E in such words as ielievo, redeem, refer, &c., lies between (1) and (2), but in this country there is a strong tendency and practice to pronounce words witli this element in them improperly, thus : WW- vent for c-vent, huf-f ore for before, twMieve for be-lieve, rwp-'pent for repent, &c. 41. I. This letter many writers pronounce to be a compound of a in far, and c (No. 1) in eel. locution. 27 . should be Mr. Vandcnhoff, however, whose experienced and cultivated judgment, as well as liipjh rank as a reader, command!'! respect in every thing connected with elocution, considers tlie sound of I to b3 a compound of u (No. 9) in ns, and e (No. 1.) in eve, which he affirms will be manifest, if we sound u-e separately and slowly at first and then rai)idly together. Either view will, however, serve to correct the delect, common in the dialects of the North of England and some parts of Ireland, of sounding i like oi in voice ua/oine, for fine. 42. The student is recommended to sound — I. Each of the above vowel sounds separately, (1) in whispers, (2) in orotund tone with a rismg inflection varying from a ditone to an octave; (3) with u falling iufloction with similar variations ; and (4) in monotone. II. — To select words with these vowels in them for similar exercises. III. — To read aloud in low. middle and high pitch the follow- ing exercise in which the tones or vowels are numbered agreeably with the numbers in the table. 7 + 13 12 2+9 2 9 4 1 10 9+1 2 10 Thou glorious mirror where the Almighty's form 542424 4 2 10 9 i-l Glasses itself in tempests; ia all time 7 10 10 9 2 1 10 3 10 10 Calm or convulsed, — in breeze or gale or storm 9+12 9 12 10 2 9 10 2 9+1 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 7 12 9+13 4 4 4 5 9 9+1 Dark-heaving boundless, endless, and sublime 122 10 1422 9 12 The image of Eternity — the throne 2 2 2 19 1 » 7+13 9+1 9+1 Of the Invisible, even from out thy slimo 9 10 9 10 9 1 7 3 1 12 The monsters of the deep are made : each zone. 12. 3 1 7+13 12 4 il 4 6 9 4 5 12 Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.* 43. Exercises of this character assist in purifying the vowel utterances, and in correcting provincialisms, and the student who needs improvement in this respect is recommended to mark other passages in the same way. • Adapted from " Bell's Manual of Elocution." I ''I f »■■ !! '•■• I 28 Instruction in Consonant Sounds— *9«t6-^onics and A-tonic$. 44. Tlioso letters commonly called consonants arc divided into two classes : first, those which in addition to breath require voice, as b, d, 771, V, &c. These arc termed sub-tonics by Dr. Rush, iKJcausc, although possessing- tone, that tone is inferior in fullness and power of sustainmont to the true tonics ; and, secondly, pure breath cMmonants such as p, Jc, t, s, /, <&c. ; ihcy are called a-tonics, or consonants whose sound is without tone. 45. Table of Sub-tonics and A-tonics. SUB-TOMC A-TOMC OR OIJ Oroanio Actios. EzAUPLse. VOICK, Breatfi. 1 B r Labial. B-ab Pop. 2 D t Lingua-dental. D-id Tat. 3 G K Guttural and Palatal. G-o-g K-i-k. 4 V F Labia-dpntal. V-i-v F-i-f. 6 Z S Dental-sibilants. Z-u-z S-i-8. 6 J Ch Lingua-palatal-sibilant. J-u-j Ch-ur-ch. 7 Zh Sh Palatal-sibilant. Az-uro vision Sh-u-sli. S Th Th Lingua-dental. Th-cm Th-in. 9 R B Lingua-palatal, R-omo ba-B. 10 L Lingua-palatal. L-u-11. 11 M Labial-nasal. M-u-m. 12 N Lingua-palatal and nasaL N-u-n. 18 NO Nasal-palatal. ri-N G ri-N G i N Q 14 H Propelled breath. Il-ah Ua-h 16 W / Labial -semi- vccal. W-ow Wh-en 16 Y Palatal-semi-vocal. ro-y Yet 46. Observations. — The student must acquire a full know- ledge of the sound of each of these articulations. If in each example he begins to sound the word and instantly ceases when he has sounded the initial letter he will acquire this power. Thus, in the word B-ab, let him stop before he sounds ab and he will sound the initial B. Let him next observe a gene- ral rule, viz., that he first put the speaking apparatus into the position of utterance ; as in sounding B he presses the lips tightly together. If he stop here, keeping the lips together, the sound is unfinished. This is the position ; the completion of the sound requires a separation of the lips, that they should subside into their first or normal condition ; this is the action and completion of the sound. Every complete sound of a letter therefore, Elocution, 29 a full know- requires, first, position; second, action.'^ The action must be 'prompt, instantaneous and complete or the utterance will be defec- tive, and ptammoring will result. 47. When sounding tliesc letters, t ikc breath before each sound, and let the lower jaw descend after its completion. 48. P T K hiivc no sound in their position; thoy finish with a slight puff as i^or emission of breath as K^ T, which must he heard. This is of great importance when these letters end a word. Bad readers and speakers, in such a word as ''stop'' will bring the lips together on the p, but neglect to re-open them and complete the sound with the final puff of tho p, and the word will sound like staw. The final letter of one word must be completed before commencing the initial letter of the next loord. 40. The organs — the lips in P, the tongue in T and K — must be separated that the air compressed in the mouth may escape. Here an important distinction must be observed. The air con- tained in the mouth only must be ejected, and not any more air fient out of the lungs. The emission of air from the glottis must be checked, or a defect common to stammerers, and, in fact, to all whose articulation is imperfect, will be established. This defect consists in allowing the chest to fall, and, by tlie continuation of breath after the separation of the organs and the utterance of tho letters, an Jispiration like that of h is heard, as lijy-h, lit-h, strucJc-h. Not only is the true force of the articulation thus lost, but the lungs are exhausted, and the trachea, to the great injury of health, is forced improperly forward without that counteracting check which should attend healthful articulation. 50. 11. This letter has two sounds. It is sounded faintly he/ore a consonant, and at the end of a word ; as guard, bar. It is sounded with something between a trill and a buzzing vibra- tion of the tongue before a vowel ; as, roar, round, rough. After a long vowel it has a vowel sound ; as, soar. 51. K and O. There is an affected theatrical mode of pro- nouncing these letters in such words as kind, card, garden, guard, girl, guide, guile, &c., which are pronounced as if ce or y followed the K or G, as Kee-ind, Keeard, and Gee-ard. This is a violation • " BeU'fl Maaual of ElocaUon." 30 Instruction in 11 III 1 I ' •! i of good English and must bo avoided. The rule to be observed is that, in the following words, elegant pronunciation, while it discards the theatrical excess of Kce-ind, requires a very slight sound of e where the apostrophe i.s placed, viz. : — K'ind, g'uide, g'uile, g'uise, k'indness, beg'uilc. Unless this can be done with correct- ness and due elegance the safest course is to give the usual com- mon sound. 52. NGr. Some speakers neglect the G, as, strenth for sfreng-th, smlmjln^ for swlngiuj ,- others give the G too much sound, as, ring-glnrj, swlng-ging. Let the student understand clearly +he organic position and attiou. Tlic sound commencing in the throat (guttural) is scat out through the nose (nasal) to complete it. (See G7.) 53. As "fast reading" is a very prevalent defect, and is not corrected by pausing between every word, but by a proper timing of the vowels and sub-tonics, the following principles and exercises will be of service in acquiring the power to " read slow" : — 54. Rule I. — Syllables which contain or terminate with long vowel sounds, or with ?, m, n, r, ng, v, tJi (voice sound as in ^^em) can be prolonged. Prolong the following words, varying the inflections : All, arm, awe, bull, balmy, dare, eve, eel, evil, fool, poor, befall, trail, dew, holy, reveal, doom, moan, rolling, prove. Read the following examples with the same prolonged tone : — Roll on thou deep and darJc blue ocean — I'oll. I thought I scao a thousand /earful wrecks, A thousand men that fishes griawed u^on ; then began the tempest of my soul. Select other similar passages for practice. 55. Rule II.— Syllables containing short voicels, and termi- xif,tlnf> m h, d, g, p, t, k,/ s, cannot be elegantly prolonged ; as, j*ttack, back, biickward, beck, sick, up, fit, bad, dog, put, enough, pass. OiiSLuvATiON.— Emphasis or force is given to such words by quickness of utterance, and then by briefly pausing after the syllar bio containing such elements ; as, Which, if not vici-tory, is ^et "1 revenge I J *! strenth for Elocution. * If I can catch him once upon the hip I will feed/a^ "^ the ancient grudge I bear him. Bach "^ to th^ punishment false fugitive I Y\\fig\U "^ till from my bones my flesh be hacked, *• Up "^ sluggards, vp t ** Oyec7''lcfool! Be ready gods with all your thunderbolts, Dash "^ him to pieces ! A slave, that is not twentieth part the tythe Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings ; A cut "'purse of the empire, and the rule, That from a shelf "^ the precious diadem stolo Xn(\. put it *^ in his ^joc/cc^ I have seen the day, with my good biting falchioQ I would have made them skip.'^ Faithful to whom, to thy rebcUioua crew I Fit "1 body, to fit "^ head. 81 Exercises in Articulations. 66. These exercises should be practised by all persons of defective powers of utterance, who desire to attain excellence and finish of delivery. Each word should bo uttered with the fullest distinctness and precision ; each syllable should have its proper accent, heavy or light ; each vowel its quantity and its correct sound. Again, the student should practice the inflections on each word, rising and falling, circumflex and mouotono, with varying compass. Then let him apply the median stress (p. 40, par. 82) to long quantities (sec Rule 1 above) and the radical stress (p. .39, par. 81) to short quantities (see Ivulc II.) When the words contain elements diflicult to bo pronouucod, such as the labials and labial dentals (see Table page 28,) it will greatly aid precision of utter- ance to pronounce a numljer of words in succession with the greatest possible rapidity. In fact every form of practice on these words will facilitate the final object, a cLsar and distinct and masterly enunciation of the language we spoak. 57. Labials B P M. These are formed by contact of the lips, followed in the case of tltc p by a sort of explosive whisper, and in that of B, accompanied by a sort of murmur as if heard in the throat, which should be prolonged. The samo observation refers to k and g, t and J. 1 ■ 32 Instruction in Pup, pope, pomp, plump, pippon, pumpkin, papacy. Peter Piper, picked a peck of pepper. The barbarous Hubert took a bribe to kill the royal babe. Abuse the city's best good men in metro And laugh at peers that put their trust in Peter. The South Sea bubble put the public in a hubbub. Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears the palm, And bubbling, and troubling, and doubling, And grumbling, and rumbling, and trembling; And thumping and plumping, and bumping, and jumping ; All ut once and all o'er with a mighty uproar. And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 5S. D T. 'These sounds are formed by the pressure of the forepart of the tongue against the palate, the tip touching the upper gum ; the action is a forcible separation of the organs. D. — day, did, deed, judged, derided, strengthenedst, modest, pedant, could. He licks the hand just raised to shed his blood. T. — tan, tear, Xease, toast, tart, tempt, debt. Take any shape but that. When d follows a breath sound it becomes itself a breath sound = t, as laced, danced, chafed, laughed, chopped, wrecked. A tell t-ilc, tattling termagant that troubled all the town, Trials and troubles turn with time and tide. 59 G K. These letters require the back part of the tongue to press against the palate. The organs separate for the completion with a sort of explosion. C^---gag, gay, guide, gregarious, giggle, dig, csSi vague, guerdon, ragged, gimblct. He gave a guinea and he got a groat. Guilty gamblers greedily grasp gold. A giddy giggling girl her kinsfolks plague. Her manners vulgar and her converse vagus, K. cake, coke, eke, pique, quake, cucumber, flaccid, conquer, calico, vaccinate. A black cake of curious quality. The clumsy kitchen clock click-clicked. 60.— V F (labial dental.) Formed by pressing the upper teeth upon the under lip. Remember that of is sounded ov, but in compounds /retains its Bound; as, thereof, whereof, &o. Ph represents/, but in nephew ph is sounded as v. Elocution, 83 V. — vlv. — Rovive, vilo, nephew, vivid, votive, grovel, heavenu \F. — at".— Fit'j, chafo, laugh, sylph, sphinx. ^ Hj tillod the draught and freely quaffed, And puffed the fragrant fume and laughed. 61. Z and S. Observe that after a voice sound S is sounded like Z, and after a breath sound like C, solt. Maze, bl izc, as, has, is, was, oaths, breathes, hand*, plagues, drowns, raisins, puzzle. lie r:;ctiee v.ill he found useful. Wlien the difliculty occurs tlio spcakv r fhould pnuso and arrest the tendency to brc.ithc before the vowel that follows, and if that should follow let him sound the vowel alone, then gradually with it the other elements, as end (/icnd) — e. (See Tonics, No. 4, page 20.) en, end. The following words have the h silent, and in the praxis words with and without the h sound are intermingled to give ease and confidence in its utterance. Silent h, heir, honest, hour, humor, and their derivatives. Praxis. — Hall, all, aunt, liaunt, who, art, heed, hair, hour, heir, huge, perhaps, inhale, eye, high and hand, how, owl, hone, own. Up a high hill he heaved a huge, round stone. lie had learned the whole art of an2;lin'j:bv heart. 70. The before a vowel and h silent is sounded like thee and 9 before h and consonants like thu (see Table, p. 20.) B-ead the 86 Inttrudion in « ' ! "1 following exorcises, — The horse, tlio ass, the hour, the inn, the heart, the art, the eye, the end, tlio harp, the honor, the horror 71. Correct pronunciation op words often mispro- nounced. (The small figures refer to the Tuble, p. 2G) 9 I lit above abuv acknowledge 10 ak-nol- ledge again-st 4 ogen-st (as in hen) any cnny, not au-y 7 * aye, meaning- "yes" a-ee (or a-i) bade bad barrel bar-rcl, not barl children rcn, not childern covetous kuv-e-tus diamond dia-mond epistle epissl engine enjin, not engine ere and o'er air, not car evil evl, not e-vil heretofore here-too-fore hundred dred, not derd idol idul, not idle xniraolo mir-a-cle, not mer-i-cle neither nether, nithur none nun often offn, not off- ten ordinary- or-din-ary, not ordnary peril pcr-il, not purl perhaps sound the h put u, as in bull says Bez said Bed sate sat shone shon sovcreiga Buv-rin spirit Bpir, not sper, nor spnr towards to-urdz truths ' th, as in tliin venison ven-zn, or vene-za wont wunt, not want wrath rawth, or rath, as in far yea yay youths th, as in their I Mocutton, 87 ( MISPBO- 72. A. It is a Now Englandism to pronounce this particle like (I in fume. The truo Englisli sound, whicli i3 far more expressive, is thut of a in at. Tho Now England mode is wrong buciuiso it is not English, and because it makes the word too emphatic. 73. TO ii pronounced long (too) before a rowel and short before a consonant; the short sound, however, is still that of o not u or e. Send a ring too Eva and a book to John. 73. Y in my is rarely sounded like long i as in Jine, except for emphasis ; its usual sound is that of y in lady. 74. The termination EI) in tho past tonso and past participle. There is somo difl&culty in the management of this syllable; many contend that it should be sounded more fully in Scripture reading and the reading of the Church Service. In the words aged, beloved, blessed, cursed, learned, winged, when used as adjectives the e ought to bo sounded ; as, an aged man, a lc;irn-eci scholar. When compounded, however, as a full ag'd horse, it is suppressed. In other cases tho propriety of sounding or supprcsrfng it must depend on tho position of tlio word. It may bo suppressed when it promotes ease of utterance, and prevents unpleasant tautophony. Professor Plumptre recommends its suppression in tho following words occurring in tho English Church Service, and which, as they arc of Scriptural derivation, will bo generally useful: 1. — Declar'd unto mankind — -—our forefathers have declar'd unto us— — number'd with thy saints— — sav'd from our enemies — — order' d by thy goveniancc— — cstublish'd among us — * — gather'd together in thy name— ^ — ' scattcr'd the proud — — promis'd to our forefathers. " 2. — Visited and rcdeem'd his people — erret/and are deceiv'd— — aflaictcd or distress'd. " Adverbs formed by adding It/ to participial adjectives ending in cd very often retain the sound of « in those ver^? words which suppressed it before the composition took place; thus the e is sounded in assuredly, advisedly, unfeignedly , etc,'" — King's College Lectures on Elocution, by Professor Plumptre, from which also the following have been extracted : 75. EL. E before I in final unaccented syllables must always be pro- & if III 88 Instruction in nouncod ; as rebe^, moihf, i\n<^eL Ecreptions — shekel, weasel, ousel, nival, snivel, hazel = hhoklo, weasle, &c. 75. EiV. E belbro n in final unnccentod syllables not preceded by a liquid is suppressed, as irardcn, burden; gardu, burd'n, 70. IL and IN. 1 baforo I and n must aJvvayjj bj pronounced, as penciV, vigi7, gernu'ii, Lntln. Exceptions — evil, devil, raisin and cousin; cvl, devl, raizn, ouz-r . 77. ON. The o is suppressed in the final unaccented syllabic ow, preceded by c, h, d, p, s, t, z; as, in beacon, hacon, pardon, ^;/v'tesaj reason, treason, poison, lesson, &c., pronounced hacn, prisn, ream, &c. Exceptions — unison, diapason, horizon, weapon. QUALITY Ov VOICE.— FORCE. 78. The human voice Is formed by the passage of air through the larynx and cavities of the mouth and nose, and the quality of that voice depends very considerably upon judicious training and ft watchful control over these organs. When the voice is free from roughness, huskiness, hollowness, a mixture of tone and whisper, and nasal peculinritlcs, it m^y be pronounced pure in quality. The rolceo of children when In good health, arc sweet, musical, and pure; the voice of the cultivated orator, actor, or singer poiiscsses a similar clearness, purity and roundness of tone, free from the defects named. The first efforts of the music master arc directed to the cultivation of these qualities In his pupils. The musical pupil Is required, day aftjr day, to pass through the drill of sounding each note of the gamut, eommenc- ing gently, swelling out In the centre of the note and tapering It off at Its close Into softness, until its jagged rough externals are smoothed down, and It flowa out pure and musical, round, clear and sounding. Wo are all born witli this musical capacity ; and though neglect and unhealthy Influences may and do seriously affect the natural purity and power of the vocal organ it may, by patient culture, be restored to much of its native beauty. Tho exercises on pages 19 and 20 will prove the best means for correct- ing defects of voico and ear, and acquiring purity of tone. In m locution. 39 addition to purity, however, the orator and reader need force of voice. It is not as we have already stated, loudness that gives effect to the successful speaker :uQd makes language expressive and intelli- gible in a large hail or theatre, " The whispering of Mrs. Siddoas, and the same is true of other great actors, was distinctly heard ia the remotest parts of huge theatres, r.nd produced a greater effect than the loudest b;iwl of those who tore passions to tatters, to very rags to split the ears of the groundlings." Distinct articu- lation i i no doubt an essential in making the speaker understood. But tlie possession o^ force, the power to govern the voice so as make it roll along with musical j)Hrity and softness, or revcrberato like peals of thunder — startling " stupor into attention " by its sudden explosion on the car ; or sink into awe-impressive whispers or rise into the shout of anger, or fear, or mortal agony, or wild excitement; this force is necessary to all who aspire to tlie triumphs of oratory and delivery; and this force, by judicious and perso- Tering practice, can be more or less acquired by all. 70. Force must be studied, both in reference to syllables and to sentences. In the physical culture of the voice its application to words claims the first attention ; as he who can control the necessary delivery of simple sounds will find no great diflicultjr with combinations of sounds in sentences. SO. The term stress is applied to force in single sounds, and to make it effective itmui^t possess two elements : 1st, the physical effort of voice ; 2nd, the time occupied in its utterance. The following classification of the various modes of exercising stress is due to Dr. Rush : 81. 1st, Radical Stress.— This consists of an abrupt and forsiblc utterance at the beginning of the vocal effort. It is an effjrl of voice in which the lungs are inflated, the muscles brought into a state of rigid contraction, and then the sound is expelled with a sudden explosive energy that startles the hearer ; hence the term Kadiciil stress. It is heard in tlic sudden words of command, ''Halt/' "Arm," ''Charge," or in the ory of alarm, ''The foe! they come, they come." In its milder and more cheerful forms it gives liveliness to expressions of joy, humour, &c., causing the Yoice to leap and dunce along, as it were, with overflowing hilarity ; ^r ■!,: -I • o i iiiii 1 fil 40 Instruction in KB, "Oh! then I see Queen Mab has been with you." Its abuse is often heard in the delivery of young people at school recitations, causing them to give undue emphasis to each word, and to exhibit an appearance of premature Bclf-confidence in their manner. It may, also, in addition to the above explanation, be compared to the mechanical act of abrupt coughing. In practising, the student must hold the breath in suspension for a moment, bracing up his vocal organs as if for a sudden violent elFort, then send forth the Toice on any of the tonic elements (p. 2G) on syllables, and finally words. For milder forms the above description of Queen Mab ; and, for the violent effort, the following and similar examples are recommended. (Let this stress be thrown chiefly on the words iu italics): — Aa hour passed on : the Turk awoke ;— That bright dream was his last ; — He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, "To arini! — they come ! — the Groolc! the Greek I" He woke — to die, 'midst flame and smoke, And shout and groan and sabre-stroke, And heard with Toico as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band — Striko — till the last armed foe expireSj Strike — for your altars and fires, Strike — for the green graves of your Bxre3, God— and your native land ! # The radical stress in the above example is chiefly thrown on the irst word of each line, but, of course, the tone of lofty appeal is continued through the whole line. 82. Median Stuess. — The Median stress is a gradual increase and subsequent decrease of fulness in the voice similar to what is called a swell iu musical language. It has been already explained in the practice on the gamut. Its abuse is heard in the theatrical tones of " mouthing " words. Thrown on important words of iolemn subjects it clothes them with the highest dignity and pomp of sound. It is especially adapted to the reading of the Psalms, Elocution* 41 and of mournful topics. The practice here again should be on tonics of long quantities, as in the exercises for the orotund voica (page 42-3.) 83. Vanisiilvg Stress. — This term is used to indicate that the chief forco of the voice torminates at its end, bjing tho« opposite of the radical stress. It has been compared to the peevish exclamation of an ill-tompcred child, when saying " I won't," o? "you shan't," where the voice hangs on the word and bursts out with the greatest violence at its close. It is also compared to the act of repeated sobs. It is specially adapted to the language of resolve, rebuke, impatience, or horror. Scorn and Reproach : Thou slave! thou wretch! thou coward I Thou little valiant, great in villany ; Thou ever strong upon the stronger side I Thou Fortune's champion that dost never Gght, But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety 1 Horror : Oh! horror! nouuoii! HORROR! — Tongue nor heart Cannot eonceive, nor nanao thee! Confusion hath made his masterpiece! Mo3t sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple and stole thence The life o' the building. Resolve: I know not what courdo others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty or give me death. St, Pierre, Come, sign I v -. "■ \ ••; f" H: 4' f ■ • t ■ 42 Instruction in Fcrd'nand. St. Pierre, , • '" Will forty thousand ducats please thee ? St. rierre. There's The dial, and the sun is shining on it — • The shadow is on the rery point of twelve ; lly case is despuratol Your signature, Of vital moment is unto my peace I My eye is on the dial. Pttsa the shadow The point of noon, the bre&th of but a iiaiu, As can my eye discern, end, that unsigned, The steel is in thy hec.rt. I speak no more I {The Wife.) 84. The remaining forms of stress aro but modifications of tlio preceding. 85. Compound stress is strong at the beginning and end, and milder in the middle, of a sound. 8G. Thorough stp.ess throws equftl force on all the sound. 87. Tremor means intermittent stress, as when the voice trembles in pathos or sorrow. THE OP.OTUND voice. 88. Solemn and digaiScd compositions of prose and poetry demand an appropriate tone of voice, swelling, exalted and impres- sive as the subjects themselves. This tone is altogether different from the common prosaic tone of couvers:ition. It is artificial in its character and can only be acquired by careful culture. It is powerfully impressive, and especially adapted to the grand Bcntiuients of tragedy and epic poetry, and to scripture reading and prayer. When exercised by great orators and actors it is full of impressiveness and adds depth, solemnity and force to the sentiuieuts uttered. It is of the first importance to the minister of religion, both because it is the best calculated to fill a largo building, and to command the attention and respect of the hearer, by its pure, lofty, and swelling effect, and the sentiment of awe it awakens, when used in the delivery of solemn thoughts. To give Elocution. 48 this tone in all its completeness demands the energetic action of all tlic vocil organs — the erect chest, the full inflated lunp^, the well- rounded mouth, and the deliberate and full action of the vocal organs, lleuce, because all these organs are brought into play and each assists the other, the fVcqucnt usg of this voice, when onco jiocjuircd, h Ls'J fatiguiug and more bracing on the whole Bjsteiii, than the loss dignlPod conversational tonu too often hcrrrd on the pl.tlbrm, in the pulpit, and in other forms of public delivery. 8'J. The cx'ict mode of forming this quality of voice is not well uiulorstood, but the following directions will present a digest of various mcthod>; successfully adopted for acquiring it, and they are rccummcaded to the student for daily practice. The term orotund (ore rotundo), duo to Dr. Rush, indi- cates the nature of the vocal action. The mouth is rounded, and>- as it were, hollowed out for its production. The root of the tongue and the larynx arc lowered, so that the mouth, like an arched vault, is iu the best condition for full resonance ; the chest is also erect and expanded to give the lungs ample room to be filled and to act with energy, while the breath is poured forth against the vaulted roof with full power for successful effect. The voice under these conditions is sent forth with the utmost degree of fulness and purity of which it is cipablo. 90. The mode of acquiring this voice is thus described by Dr. Pvush. — " The act of coughing is cither a series ( I" short abrupt efforts in expiration, or of one continued impulse which yields up the whole of the breath. This last forms one of the means for acquiring the orotund voice. The single impulse of couching is an abrupt utterance of one of the short tonic vocali- ties,-'- followed by a continuation of the atonic breathing h till the c:vj>ii\.tion h exhausted. Let this compound function, consisting of t'ac exploded tonic vocality and the aspiration, be changed to an entire voadifi/ hi/ onuttiiig the sharj't ahmptncss of the cough and continuiiifj the tonic in place of the aspiration. The sound thus produced, will, with proper cultivation, lead to that full and sub- Bonorous quality here denominated the orotund. • I. e. Vowels. Sec Table, page 26. ^4 InstriLction in iiifH ! if .' 'f " This contrived effort of coughing, -when freed from abnrptnesg, i» like tlie voice of gfiping ; for this has a hollow and suhsouorous vocal ity very diHerent from the colloquial utterance of tonio sounds. It may be exemplified by uttering the tonic a-vfd with the mouth widely expended, and by speaking as far as possible in fi gaping artlcvh' i ?*." 91. Having thus formed some idea of commencing his practice on this voice, the student must then, with the above arrangement of vocal orGjans, sound the following and similar combinations that allow largo compass nf voice, in monotone, and with rising and falling inflections ,dee ii'-xi, le.>-^son), " drawing out the voculity to the utmost extent ox » :..|ti ration." A\ awe,-oh, w/io, ee, ow, oi, arm, a-11, o-wn, vr-oe, ee-i, ok-\, ]-oy. 91. After patient :a'^ perr.*. o.Jag practice on vowels and eyllablcs the next step wiii be lo nti..; ^^'ords in orotund, such as the following, containing the full tonic sounds of o, awe, <> <> ^> <> Oh holy Hope that flows through all my soul. <><> > <> O <> <> <> Roll on thou deep and dark blue ocean roll. <> <> <> <> <> From polo to polo the deep-toned thunders roll. <> • <> <> <> <> Low hollow moans proclaim his deep-soul'd woe. <> <> <> Awake, arise, or be forever fallen I 92. The chief difficulty at first will lie in continuing this tone on a succession of words, as the tendency will be to fall back into the small puny tones of conversation. The student must, however, persevere against that habit by reading passages from the *' Book of Job," from the "Psalms," from ''Paradise Lost," the first two books of which abound in appropriate exercises, and from other similar compositions. ACCENT. 93. Accent is that force of voice in words of more than one syllable which gives oao syllable a heavier sound than another. The terms heauy and light arc the best to apply to such syllables. In the word process, pro is the accented or heavy syllable, cess the light one. Mr. Steele, an early writer on Elocution, and subse- Elocution. 45 qnently Dr. Rush anrl other authors, designate this difference in Bound by the terra poisn (wcii:;ht), a very appropriato onoifj^eno- rally accepted. *' Many persons/* says Professor Phinjptre, "naturally carry out this poise admirably in delivery without ever havin;; had any instruction in elocution, especially such persons who (as) arc possessed of strong feelings, lively imagination, and warm toraperamont, particularly when they are speaking in public, or reading aloud any powerful, descriptive or dramatic jvissage. Others, on the contrary, who arc of cold, lethargic, un impassioned tempcr.:mcnt, or languid health, allow only the sliglitcst amount of range of action and re-action to bo perceptible, and hence tho poise is inadequately maintained, and tho delivery in speaking or reading is poor, tame, and feeble, void of all proper expression, md often accompanied with a tendency to stammer or stutter." 94. Sheridan says "that theatrical declamation, or what is called tho stagey stylo of delivery, h due to tho actors dwelling upon sjlliblcsthat are unaccented, with the same force as upon the accented ones, through a notion that it makes the words move more slowly, stately, and uniform, than the quicker and more Bpirited accents will allow." 95. Accent is a physiological necessity, dependent upon the structure and action of the vocal cliords, and, in its regular action and reaction, it is not only an agreeable relief to the ear, but also to the organs employed in speech. 9o. The terms long and short, grave and acute, are quite inade- quate to express this action, and are, therefore, now, in relation to the Engli.sh language, no longer used. The accented syllable may be long or short, aeute or grave, but it is always tho hcav^ syllable^ and the unaccented one is^lways li^/ht. 97. Ill the words w itjr, weary, holy, manly, the accent, which is on t'ac first syllable, is caused by a prolongation of tlie vowels, and is therefore due to time. Heavier accent may be given t'jcm by adding/orceor stress, and this would mako thciiK nijthaiic. In the woid vic-to-ry the three syllables are short, and the accent is thrown on vie by tho addition, not of time, but of stress. The same principle guides us in pronouociug such words as battle, tttmbie, bufile, cattle, &o. 46 Instruction in iiiii ■yi\ 1 1 1 f 1 1 1 '■< 1 98. ITcnoQ the following ruins : — Uttlk I. — AYhcn the accent is on the vowel its weight is expressed by time ; that is, the vowel is prolonged in utterance, as flr/nuing, daring, gl^^rious, &c. 90. Rhle II. — If the concluding letter of the accented sj^l able be a mute or atonic (page 20) the accent is cxpre.'^sed by stress, and the time is short; as, t;tctory, backward, hcck-ou, batih, hn/Qc, &c. 100. Rule III. — When the concluding letter of the accented Bylliblo is a semi-vowel, or a nasal liquid, the syllable may 1)0 long or short according to will; as, murmur, basely, bubble, madden, &c. 101. These rules are of great importance, as will be further explained in emphasis. The emphasis may be prolonged l)y time, as in Rule I, but it would have a harsh ciFcct to prolong the sylla- ble vie in victory ; as, "Which, if not I'lc-tory, is yet revenge," or hat in battle. The emphasis in every instance of Rule II is accomplished by stress, followed by a slight pause, that U, the syllable must not be prolonged, but additional weight be thrown on it. 102. Modes of Practice and Improvement in Accent. — The best key to correct accent is a good dictionary, and, wherever there is a tendency to throw accent on every syllable, or to neglect accent where it occurs, adults and school teachers, in the practice of their pupils, would derive great advantage from reading aloud the words of a dictionary, selecting (1) words where the accent is on the vowel, (2) accented syllables ending as in Rule IT, (3) accented syllables ending as in Rule III. Wlierc the tendency is to accent every syllable, as in theatrical declamation, Sheridan gives the following Rule : 1®3. " The only rule necessary to be observed by all public speakers, who can pronounce English properly, is to lay the accent always on the same syllabic and the same letter of the syllable which they usually do in common discourse, and to take care not to lay any accent or stress on any other syllable." 104. "While giving to every word its proper accent, bo especially careful not to omit, slur over, or mispvonnunce the other syllables, as di-inond for diamond, paiticklcr, for par-ti-cular, histry for his- Mocution, 47 to-ry, lionrblo for lion-our-a-ble, jograpliy for go-o-grapliy. Notliing Boonor shows the elegant unJ accoiuplisheJ orator and reader, than a careful observance of this rule, and it may be added that uothing is more common than its violation, amongst all classes. TIME. 105. The vocal principle on wliich the time and movement of pecch depend is simple. There can be no safe rules given to guide the reader as to the duration of pauses. Pauses are con- trolled and measured by the character of the subject and the temper of the mind. When passion is vehement, and the reasoning is triumphant, and conclusive, the language is poured forth with cncr^\v' and swiftness. But when the reasoning is complieatcd and ab. vuse, the delivery is more slow and deliberate ; and if the mind be under the influences of deep reverence, or fear, or extreme terror, the movement will vary — be swift or slow as feeling pre- dominates; and often the piuses will bo long, while the eye and tlie f ICC arc eloquent with silent expression. The prevalent defect of all readers is to read too fast, and the common method for correcting the evil is to pause between each word. Now it is here that a knovfledgc of the letters, as explained in previous lessons, is of great advantage. Slow time — slow reading is secured BY EXTENDING THE SYLLABIC QUANTITY OF WORDS, wliero tho nature of the letter admits of such prolongation (sec p. 2G and 45-G.) Single vowels, not syllables, are classed as long and slioit. Thus in the words male and female, the a in male, because it is long, allows the voice to dwell upon it without disagreeable cficct ; and bence uH words which have a long vowel in them followed by a subtonio (p. 26) can be prolonged on that vowel, and so offjr the proper element for reading slowly. On the other ban 1 words coming under llulc II, page 4G, cannot, without a viol;>tion of the true sound, bo prolonged. One important and safe rule must always be observed ; when reading ever so fast let the reader never fail to complete articula- tion, and when reading slowly let him avoid monotony by varying inflection and pitch. \v 1, 1 1ll! !3 t; •!»(i 19 Jnstruction in ACCENT AND TIiAIE OF POETRY. lOG. English poetry cannot bo read with proper melody by the laws of the prosodiana and on the same principles as classical poetry. The classical prosody arranges versification by feet, consisting of long and short syllables. But the syllables in English poetry may bo and often must be made long or short, first according to the tonic elements, but chiefly in subjection to tho will of the reader, guided by the higher laws of arbitrary emphasis and expression, A word of great forco and meaning may be prolonged, as to time, indefinitely, and, although accent must be observed in words of more than one syllable, the same classical observance of accent on every word, will throw tho weight or poise on the most insignificant particles and give to articles, prepositions, and conjunctions, a prominence utterly destructive of expression, and characterized by the most childish and ridiculous eing-song. According to tho prosodial measurement of long and short quantities, tho following examples place the accent on the italicized syllables and words : On the I bare earth | exposed \ he lies \ "With not I a friend | to close \ his eyes thou I that with \ anrpass \ ing fflo \ ry crowned hook'st/rom \ thy sole \ domm | ion like | the ffod | Of this I new world | atwhose \ sight all | the stars | Hide their \ dimin | ished heads. Show pi I tr Lord | oh Lord | forgive Let a I repent \ ant reb | el live, Bj prayer \ th' offen \ ded De | ity | t' appease. Let these examples be read by the prosodian's law, the weight of the voice falling on the italicized syllables, followed also in each instance by an involuntary pause, and the music and cxpresdon of such passages are altogether marred. 107. Now, the habit of reading on this system is so powerful, in consequence of school and classical instruction, that the most earnest attention of the student, who would acquire a natural and expressive and truly musical style of reading, is required to over- come the difficulty. Especially to the diviuity student, who, in his professional labors, will have so often to deliver the language of UlocuHon. 49 accent on tbe lyrical poetry, in the rcadin? of hymns and psalms, is the instrnc- ti'in ncudfiil, that will t:ike away Irom the pulpit the childish and oantiui; touua that no coustuutly diali^ura tho delivery oC Bucred verse. 108. The elements involved in reading English verso are accen- tunfioa and time. I'Od. The accentuation is regulated by the recurrence of Jicnvf/ and /[(/hf syllables; there will occur action and re-action, puis ition and remission ; in other words there will be a constant recurrence oHicavy and light syllables. Tho verse then must first be arranged into bars, as in music, and every bar must hic/i'n with a heavy si/Uithle. Hence the number of bars will at least be equal to the number of heavy syllables, and in no case must two hiavy gi/l/nhles he/o'ind in one bar. 110. On this principle English verse may bo divided (I) into common measure of one Ae«y^, followed by one light syllable, as ia •his example : Wit3 per- I fection A .-. I A .-. Nature's I pride the A .. \ A .. Boauty's I wonder A .-. I A .-. I Graces' I treasure. I A .-. I A .-. and (II) into triple me isuro which gives three syllables in a bar, the first, as before, being a heavy one, followed by two light oaes. The I princes np I plaud with a I furious I joy » .-. A /. •.' A .-. .'. .-. A .-..•. A O O zeal to de A .-. .-. stroy A o o And the I king seized a I fliim'ioiiu with ♦ .'. .•. I A .-. .-. I A .-. 111. Now so far as mere acccntuntion goes the above arrange- Imcnt will not chish with the prosodian's laws. But the true music [of the verse cannot be sustained without appropriate pauses, and jhencc the next iiii^. titant olonr'nt is time tho observance of which, [will at once give tho requioite harmony and expression to tho )as<'ges. 112. Every heavy sjV Mq m^i^t be followed by a lia:ht syllable, 5r by a pau?c cqu '1 to lliu tim^ of one, and every light syllable lust bo preceded by a heavy one, or by n similar pause. Hence IS the bars must begin with a heavi/ syllable and end with a light ms, appropriate m.iks arc introduced into these exercises for the juidance of the student. .. I jl It ,1 '» 50 Instruction in M i \i 113. Tho mirk A roprosonta a heavy pyllablo; /, a llilit one j ♦ an omitted hoiivy syllable, aud o an omittod li^dit Kyllablt'. In the last example tho lirst lino bej^ins wah ( * ) equal to an omitted hmvy syllable, followed by one circle (o) equal to an omitti'd light syllikblo and as ji>y is licavy it ends with two li^llt circles to indicate tho place and absence of tho two light syllables necessary to complete tho bar. In tho first example there will be projierly a pause 'dhor jyer/ccdon and priilc, and the introduction of tho pause will remove tho tendency to sing-soni^ ; but tho ])auses must be equal to the omitted syllables. Hence tho second lino would stand marked thus : — _ Nature's I pride — I — the I Graces' I treasure. A .-. I A o I « .-. I A .'. I A .-. 114. Let tho student not be alarmed or perplexed as to the extent of time to bo observed, for prccisencss on this point is really not demanded. Whenever tho tendency is to throw accent on unim- portant words and unaccented syllables, a pause is sufficient to cor- rect that tendency ; and hence jyauscs compensate for all imperfect measure, become an important element in rhythmical reading, and enable the reader to arrange his accent, his quantities aud his empliasis just as lie pleases, and without marring in any form the beauty and music of the verse. 115. For eximplc, in tho lines quoted in illustration of the bad effects of prosodial laws, the principles explained will at once restore to the lino its expression and music. Thus tho example attached to (lOG) as an illustration of the bad effect of the proso- dian's rule, is corrected : — By I prnyer I the of- I fended I deity I — to ap- I pease • ••. I A .*. I # . . . I A .-. I A ... I « ... I A o Thus also by prosody the touching lines of Milton read with alternate light, and heavy syllables would bo destitute of all expression. Oh — dark \ d:irk — dark \ amid \ the — blaze | of noor which, however, have all the pathos restored by increasing the stress on each " dark " in succession, swelling out the last and pausing after it. Oh I dark I dark I dark I | a I mid the I blaze of I noon ^ o A o A o A .-. « * .-. I .'.I A .'.A JElocution. 61 on read with stitute of all 110. In this way connnon may bo blended with triple inca.suro and inipcrl'oet lueasures componsatod I'or by appropriaU; pauses. Y.; A airv 1 .". sprites A o * wlio tliou A tllllt A o A o I A v/ith 8ur oft na I fancy A .-. Lookst A I « I A O I * from tby I sole do calls A o Riory I crowned, nnnion A .-. passing A .-. like the I gnd O I A .'. I A O Of I thia « .'. A new A world A at I whose si^ht I nil the I stars «.-. A .-. A .-. A Hide A their di I minished I hends. A .-. A .-. A 117. Explanation. — In the first line of tliis cxani] io "0" demands force equal to an accented syllabic, but, according' to pro- lan law, beinf^ an Iambic measure, the accent falls on '* thou;" " is therefore accented, and followed by a pause. As " that" is a relative pronoun it re([uires a pause before it ^ Rule VI. par. | 202), and, as it is the nominative of the following sentcuci^, it| demands accent ; hence it commences a bar. " With" miiiht t.iko the place of a light or unaccented syllabic in the sam« bar, but this would mar the music of the metre, and it also requires a pause before it, being a preposition introducing a di>tinct adjunct. Hence " that" is followed by a pause, and, as " with" is an unimportant word, it ought not to C(nnmence a bar, which would give it accent. A heavy pause, therefore, takes the place of the omitted heavy syllable, and " with sur" Ibllows as equivalent to oneliydit syllable. The remaining words present no difficidty, and follow in their proper order. The other lines are arranged on the same method. 118. Mr. D. C. Bell, an eminent Engli>;h professor of elocu- tion, shows that, when rhetorical importance is attached to a word, even of one syllable, it may on this principle combine in it-elf the time of a heavy and a light syllable, as ia the following examples : — Hail A lil 1 I holy light. offspring of I heaven I first I horn. A .. . A .-. A.-. A .-. Here " Hail," " first," and "born," have each the heavy and light 62 Imtruetion in .'■ , ■' ■•<* ' i 'I t . i percussion, and receive the time due to both ; thus, also, with the following : — * Biought I Death I Juto t'aa j woilJ I fand I all our j tfoe. A O A .'. I A .'. A O I * .*. I A .'. A .-. Ob I I that this j too I too I solid I flesh I would I \ .-. I » O I A .-. I A.-. I A .-. [^ .-. I A O I # .-. J 119. The student will thus see that rests or pauses in metrical language are as necessary as the syllables. The ca)sur:il pause may suffice, but the law of pause is the law of expression, and must har- monize with expression, and it may occur in a bar, or between bars. The ear and the judgment of the reader^ not the laws of prosody, are the proper guides. 1 •■i *( ' s i I i-l 'fJ..\] InteUectual Elocution. 53 PAET II. INTELLECTUAL ELOCUTION. 120. The preceding lessons and exercises arcdcsigncd to culti- vate the speaking voice and the car of the student. Their importance cannot be too strongly impressed on all who aspire to csclIIoucc in the art of delivery. The speaker and the reader must have the power to bring the voice under the control of the will, and the ear or quick perception of sound to know what movement the voice assumes — whether in pitch it is raised or depressed, and whether in inflection it is advancing in concrete or continuous slide upward or downw;ird. This voc.d power is the instrument of all expression. Hence the importance of mas- tering the mechanism of the art. Where nature has been liberal in these gifts, or where early traming has been favourable to the development of these powers, the intellectual department of elocution will be comparatively easy. But if the voice is coarse unmanageable, deficient in force and inflexible in movement, and the car dull of perception, the student sustained by faith in work must daily practice give to the preceding exercises in the methods [explained, until success is achieved. 121. As language is the great instrument of expression, the student must have some knowledge of its laws and its grammatical [principals. It is impossible to give rules, and to explain the logical relations of thought so as to direct the vocal expression, [without frequent reference to the parts of speech and the analysis [of sentences. To be able to distinguish the parts of speech then, is of essential importance, as the application of the rules for [pausing and emphasis depends upon such knowledge. But the modulations of voice to show the relationship between the members of a sentence, and the logical dependence of one sentence on #>«^ fitf aidc'l by ^ Vn'>w1or? of th*^ npnWm"q of ^ipntonoe^* [ and as grammarians do not adapt their instruction and definitions ffp t H' ■ 1 '•! 1 in; "*■ ■ ■• " " I • 1 _ ;; 54 Instruction in to elocutionary objects, tlic followiug synopsis is offered to the student, and, if he is deficient in this kind of knowledije, earnestly commended to his attention.* 122. The leading words which enter into the construction of a sentence may bo classified as the subject, the predicate and the OBJECT. The subject is the noun or name part of the sentence. It is the subject of which or whom wo are speaking, the do-cr of an action, the recipient of an action, the one that is any thing affirmed by the speaker; the predicate is the word expressing whatever wo affirm of the subject: it is always a VERB* Sometimes this verb may finish the affirmation. The sun | shines. Here " sun " is the subject ; and " shines," ■whatwe-affirm of it, u the predicate and completes the thought expressed. Such verbs as " shine," because they complete an idea and are not dependent for their sense upon any succeeding word, arc called intrunsitive verbs. The verb or predicate is, however, quite as often dependent for its full meaning upon a following word and would not make sense without it, as, I I iiare marshalled J my clan. Here the predicate "have marshalled" completes its sense by reference to the word " clan." " Marshalled," then, belongs to the class of transitive verbs, and " clan," being the object and completion of the predicate, receives the name of ohject or complctio)). of the predicate. Hero, then, are the leading and primary divisions of a sentence, and the student must remember that in the emphasis of sense (see par. 221r) these words must have prominence above all others in the modulations of the voice. 123. But sentences are rarely so brief and simple as these examples. The subject may be enlarged, and the predicate extended by additional words, and even by other complete sen- tences; and each enlargement may have such a special meaning, may so modify and alter the leading idea as to require a special " This preparatory exphmation of analysis is intended for students who are not acquainted with tho subject, and for their benefit it is made as sinoplo as possible. It may of course bo passed over by the elocutionary student, who uaderstauds tho analysis of sentences. Intellectual Elocution, 55 modulation of voice to mark it. But, under all circumstances, the leadiug members of the sentence, subject, predicate and object, must have their special and marked modulation and emphasis to sustaiu their importance. Take the following sentence as an example: ' Two poor mortals, \ elevated | with the distinction of a golden baubb I on their heads, | c;illed a crown, take offence j at each other I without any reason, | or with the very bad one of wishing I for an opportunity of aggrandizing themselves, by making reciprocal depredations. (^Knox.) Now in this long assemblage of words there is only one sentence, and its important members are printed in italics, while the subor- dinate divisions are marked and separated by upright dashes. The words "two poor" enlarge the subject "mortals;" the word "elevated" enlarges the subject by referring to the condition of the mortals; "with the distinction of a golden bauble," states how elevated, and both these additions will be read in a lower pitch of voice than the subject : the words " on their heads," are simply explanatory and subordinate to the words they modify ; while " called a crown," refers to the golden bauble and must be read in a similar tone, as continuative of that clause. This com- pletes the enlargement of the subject. The next words " take offence" are of leading importance, as forming the predicate and object, and must be read in such a tone as will show their relor tionsLip to the subject. All the succeeding divisions modify the predicate and, being subordinf?tc to it, arc read in a subordinate pitch, but with such modulation as will show their relation- ship to the main idea and to each other. The importance to be attached to each separate division will depend on the judg- ment and ta^te of the reader, but the law of pause rests chiefly on this analysis; and a ficility in so dividing complicated sentences is of the first importance in good reading. 12i. From the above view of analysis the following general principles may bo accepted as guides in Pause and Modulation : I. Between every adjunct of a sentence there must be a rhetori- cal pause. ;; 1 ■!" ,■ I „.4u !-f 66 Instruction in n. The subject, predicate, and object are read with stronger emphusis than the adjuncts, which modify or quulily them, unJ the udjuuota are read generally iu a lower pitch und with quicker time. 125. Several distinct sentences are often linked together as clauses qualifying or modiiyiug one or more principal sentences j as: r.lcssed is the man | that doth meditate good things | in wis- dom, II and taut reasuucth of holy things | by understanding. Ilcru there are throe sentences, one principal and two suborJinato ones. These subordinate sentences inform us what kind of a man he is who is blessed j that is, iu grammatical language, they qualify the principal sentence. Ilonce they take the office of atijtcttves, and are called adjective bENTENCES. (a.) Prndpal Sentence : Blessed is the maa (Jj) \st AJjcciioe Saitence. : that doth meditate good things (c) Ad verb ill Adjunct : iu wisdom, ((?.) 2nd Adject loe Sentence: and that reasoneth of holy things (e.) Adverbial A juact : by understanding. 126. Again, the principal sentence may be modified by another sentence which has relation to the time, or manner, or place, or cause of its action ; such subordinate sentences are caUed Adverbial Sentences. ('^.) When that the poor have cried ^.Adoerhial Sentence. (J). ) Coesar hath wept Principal Sentence. («.) If you deign to speak thus to your armies | (6) Ero they march tj bittlo Adverbial Sentences, [c.^ Perchance your highness might iiave the pain of the throat- cutting yourself. Principal Sent' nee. 127. Finalli/. — One sentence may take the place of a noun or pronoun and become the subject or object of another and principal sentence ; such a sentence is culled a noun sentence. The Christian religion, once here, cannot again pass away ; in one or other form it will endure through all time ; as in Scrip- ture, BO also in the heart of man, is written, " The gates of hell shall not prevail against it,^* Intellectual Elocution, 67 In the last clause the predicate is " is written," and its subject, " The gates of hell v\iA\ not prevail against it." This is the noun sentence, and, boiug the inoht important idea, although a subordi- nutj clause, it receivoa the strongest emphasis. 1-8. As a general }»rinei|)lo it m.iy bo stated that adjective and adverbial sentences are oi" less importance than the priuci])al sentence, and will taerdure bo read with less emphasis, and in a lower pitch of voice. AVhen these subordinate .sentences jTeccde the jirincipal sentence, or lie between its members, and do uoi follow it, then they have a ri.-iug inflection. l-I). Noun sentences have often a leading importance, being 80U)etimes the subjects, and sometimes the objects, of another sentence. No general rule can, therefore, be adopted lor their manat^ement. AViiCu the noun sentence expresses the quoted words of a stato- ment, or a reply to a (j^aestion, it then takes the leading emphasis, as: If e'er whcu faith had fall'ti asleep, I hoard a voice, "Believe no Mor.E," (N. Sentence,) Aud heard uu erer-breaking siiore Thai tumbled iu the gudlcdd dee{), A warmlli with'n the broast would melt The IVoe/.iag rcasou'd coKKt part, And like a m in iu wralli, the heart Stood up aud auswercd, "I have felt." {N. Sen.) Know then tliis truth, enough for man to know, - ; " V:nTUE ALOXK IS UAPi'iNESS BELOW." (Noun Sentence.) Tlie Scriptures abound iu similar cxamides. In all such instances Ihc •«»Mlpr >nust consider the relative value of an adjunct or a suborvlinate sentence, and, guided by the rel itive importance of each clause, as well as by the special rules for inflection, to be imuKHliately explained, he will find .skill in grammatical anaiy.si3 iudi^[)ensable in the art of expressive reading. RULES FOR INFLECTION. 130. The laws of inflection, pitch, and general inodulition of the Tcice are in strict harmoity with the expression of thon-'-bt nnd passion. Hence the student must not only understand the sub- •. if • '. I 1^ 68 Instruction in ject matkr, and the force and meaning of the words, and their relations to each other, but he must, especially in the creations of poetry and fiction, realiie to his own imagination the truo character of the thought and passion he haa to express with his voice ; he must, in short, beeome that whioh he geeka to represent, and, when he carneistly and truthfully does this, he is nearly achieving the perfection, which rules aim to secure. 131. These rules are consistent and uniform, and, from the beginning the student must patiently apply them to his readings and speech delivery. He will soon have the satisfaction of finding them so thoroughly in harmony with common sense, with the experiences of life, that thedifficulty of remembering and applying them in practice will be no more than thedifl&culty of remembering how he and others do actually speak in daily life, under all its varied demands and circumstances of calm!> ess and thoucrhtfulness, or of conflict and passion. There are nly two inflections with their combinations, and their application will always depend on two principles. The two inflecUons are the risiny and iYia falling ; the drcumjlex inflexions are a combination of these. The monotone is a continuous inflexion of the same kind, with the smallest com- pass or extent of slide. The following two principles lie at the root of all the rules : — 132. First. — All incompleteness or expression will HAYE THE RISING INFLECTION. Second. — All completeness op expression will have THE Falling Inflection. 133. The extent of the inflection will depend on the earnest- ness and passionateness of the expression. Hence, as the rules will show, earnest enquiry or appeal takes an extended upward inflection, because it denotes incompleteness : oarnest emphasis or command, or expression of conviction an extended downward inflection. In both cases the compass will vary from a third to an octave (See Gamut.) Solemn utterance of solemn thought marked rather by reverence or fear than passion, will have less compass of slide, and hence, although the term is not scientifically correct, it is called monotone. ds, and their ! creations of rue character bis voice ; he mt, and, when ichieving the nd, from the his readings ion of finding ise, with the ; and applying ■remembering under all its louri^htfulncss, iflections with depend on two iG falling ; the riio monotone smallest corn- lie at the root ESSION WILL WILL HAVE a the eamest- as the rules inded upward t emphasis or ed downward •om a third to lemn thought vill have less t scientifically Intellectual Elocution, 69 Rules. — Risinq Inflection. Principle. — Iiicomj)^ teness , and dependence, or reference. 13 1. Tha rising inflection must be used in all unfinished and dcpcnJout forms of cxpres-^ion : (1.) Between the subject and the predicate, (2) on the adjective next to the noun it qualifies, (3) where introductory sentences or phrases precede the principal isent'juc'j (4) where such cluusoa aro parenthetical and between the members of the leading clause. Thus : — But yesterday tho word of Caosar might have stood against the world. Within the lioUow circle of a crown — keeps D(;ath his court. The heart that heareth the reproof of life — abideth among tho wise. If we would have the kindness of others, we must endure then: faults. Xe that fear the Lord ; trust in the Lord. Masters, if I were disposed to stir Year hearts to mutiny and rage, *' 1 should do Brutus wron"- and Cassius wrong. When Music, heavenly maid, was young, Ere yet in early Greece she sung, Th" passioua oft to hear her shell Thronged around her magic cell If there's a Power above, And that there is all natur« cries aloud Through all her works— lie must delight in virtue. 135. Rule II. — Negative expressions rec^uire ihe rising inflec- tion. Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wound* You are not wooa, you are not stones, but mea. 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs. 1 speak not now of those bitter waters which must mingle tbemselves with the well of unhallowed pleasure, of the secret reproaches of unhal* nil 'I ; :«)! ! J m 60 Instruction in lowed conricieneo, of the tiad sonse of shame and dlshonoar, and of that degraded spirit which must bend itself beneath the scon of the world ; I epeak onlj of the oimple and natural eff ets of wiae indulgcuec. Let the student understand that the idea of negation must be expressed, and the opposite idea untithctical to the negation be at least suggested. In the last example it is actually expressed. In tho first it is as Antony had said, " , " Which, pardon me, I do not moan to read, but to conceal from you." Hence such expressions are mcowp A Ye. , • 136. Rule III. — Questions commencing with verba and which can be answered by yes or no lake the rising inHLOLion. Can the soldier when he girdeth on hia aEmour boast liko him that putteth it off? Can the merchant predict that tha speculatioH on which he has entered will infallibly be crowned with success ? Can even the husband- man, who has the promise of God that seed time and harvest shall not fail, look forward with assured confidence to the increase of his fields ? " What I would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice ?" • 137. Rule IV. — Exclamations of one or two words, as inter- jectional phrases of exclamation, apostrophe, sorrow, and so on, not being affirmations, but of the character of an appeal, take the rising inflection. ' " Ghastly grim and ancient ravun, wandering from the nightly shore : " — "My mother! when Ilearn'd that thou wast dead." " Ye crags and peaks I " 138. Ohscrve that the rising inflection is given only to the object appealed to. If there be anexclimitory clause involving a complete declaration it comes under anotlier rule and ends wiih the failing inflection. Thus, in the last example, the inflections would occur as marked : Ye crags and peaks ! I'm with you once agaml ^' .-.,., I hold to you the hands you first beheld To shew they Btill are /ree/ Intellectual Elocution, 6t Ah I Godl that ghastly gibbet. Huw dreaaful 'tis to sett The groat, tall spoctral skelctOM, the ladder, and the tree. Yc woods and w JJs, vriiose melancholy gloom Accords with my soul's sadness, and draws forth The vuico of sorrow from my bursting heart, Farewella while I 13!). Hole V. — Soutcnces of amazement or surprise, being essonti illy appealiiuj, and thcreibru incomplete, take the rising inflection. Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian chanty Under the sun 1 140. Often tlicsG expressions t ikc a rising inflection through everj member of the sentence. " What I Michael Oassio, - That came a wooing with you, and so many a timo When I have spoke of you dispralsingly, Bath ta'en your part, to have so much to do To bring him in I"* Exceptions. - 141. The rules of inflection are neither arbitrary nor change- able. They arc dcriv<.;d from natural principles, and the very exceptions occasionnlly occurring in ilioir application will, oa exarjinution, provi; to be in harmony with the principles laid down. 142. The followirjii- Exceptions to the use of the risins; inflec- tion ;ire presented to tlio fc^tudeut, not as real exceptions, but as examples to show that the /o7'?/is of expression often disguise the thouuiit, and that he who uses liiti jud.:'m(jnt;md masters the mean- ing of ;in author has the best key in a correct interpretation to the correct inflection. Thu correct inflection of tliis example is that of the rising circumflex on all the words marked thua—WLat ! Michael C'aebio, that came a wooing. i'i ' H , } ' !' ■ 1 ;■ fi.ii'! 1 J {■ ■?: i ) *i .;: ': 1 f wii )i ^ ^^ ^ 4 1^ > J. f. M ' T • I ■1 t 1 1 1 y,, 1 $ 1 i I iiji ; I i Y>M!i 62 Instruction in ' 143. Exceptions to Rule II. — All negative eentcnces involving a command, or assuming a positive form, take the fall- ing inflection ; as, Tbou sbalt do no murder. This is clearly no exception to the principle laid down, for these expressions indicate completeness. They are not denials but imperative statements. 144. Exception to Rule IV. — When the exclamation is not an appeal, but rather a command, the inflection is a falliug one ; thus. Revenge I revenge 1 Timotbeus cries. - Here Timotheus does not invoke revenge, but rather demands it, and the inflection is one of decision and completeness. The following examples further illustrate the truthfulness of the principles : - If thou be'st be -but bow fallen. (Complete.) Hark I bark! it is the clash of arms. {Complete.) You see, great Duke, I am not mad. (Positive.) Ob! traitors, Tillains. (Complete.) l most bloody sight. (Complete.) Oh, Rome I ob, my country ! ( [ncomplete) bow art tbou fallen ! Alas ! my friend— woe is me. (Appeal.) Tliou first and chief sole sovran of the vale ! 1 O straggling with the darkness all the night. And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink — Companion of the morning star at dawn — ' . ' . Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-beraldl Wake 1 (command) wake I {appeal) and utter praise (commatid.) Observe. — In examples like the last, when several clauses, each independent of the other, but referring to one common predicate, command, or invocation are grammaticaUy connected, grace and Intellectual Elocution. C3 variety would sanction a falling inflection on all tlic completo clauses but the last, " Co-henlld."* (See Rule VIII.) FALLING INFLECTION. Principle — Completeness. 145. Rule VI. — \Vhen sentences express ideas logie;illy-com- plcto and not dependent on each other, they end with the fdUing inflection. Tlic gradations of art-are always laborioira ; noone~can-hopo to~attaia excellence at once. Though the earth and the heavens were to disappear, there arc -other worlds which roll afar ; the light of other suns shines upon them^-and the sky which mantles them, is garnished with other stars. The sternest sum-total of all worldly misfortunes is death^ nothing more can lie in the cup of human woe : yet many men in all ages have triumphed over death and led it captive : converting its physical victory into a moral victory for themselves — into-aseal and immortal -consecration for all that their i)a3t lives had achieved. 14G. Rule VII. — When a series of such independent sen- tences follow each other in grammatical connection and succession, while the rule of a falling inflection at the end of each sontoiicc is observed, it relieves the monotony to give a rising inflection to the last word of the penultimate sentence. This rule applies to the members of a sentence as well as to sentences. . , The day is cold and dark and dreary ; It rains and the wind is never weary, The vine still clings to the garden wall, And at every gust the dead loaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. * In rhetorical language the rule might bH stated thus: Whon sjv"r.al elaaset (protasps) rofer to one common apodosin, i.e., the part satihfyiug the protases, the final clause preceding the apodosis wUl have a risiug Inflection. 64 Imtruetion in \< f n f '..vH -i J Oir petitions have been alfglited; our remonstrances liave produced additioual violence and insult ; our supplications have been diaregardsd, and wo liavc been apurnod with coutciupt from tho foot of the throne. 147. Rule VITI. — When several plirascH or Hcntences inde- pendent of each other, but reft-Trint^ to one common predicate, conclasion or Rtatemeut, follow each other in grammatical connec- tion, they all t iko tho filling inflection, except the last — i, e. tho one preceding such i)redicate. Tlieso feeble states, tlieso monuments of the justico of Europe, thoasylum of peace, of industry, tho refuge of oppressed innocence and persecuted truth— have perished, with those ancient principles which were their sole guardians and protectors. I conjure you by tliat which you profess, Howe'er you cumo to know it, answer me : • • Though you untie the winds, and let them fight Against the churches, though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up j Tho' bladed com be lodged, and trees blown down J Tho' castles topple on their warders' heads ; Tho' palaces and pyramids do slope Thtnr heads to their foundaiions ; tho' th©4rea3uro Of nature's germins tumble all together Even till destruction sicken — answer me • To what I ask you. — MaebtLh, 148. Rule IX. — Interrogative expressions, commencing .u pronouns or adverbs end with a falling inflection, as, What judgment shall 1 dread doing no wrong? Which now of these three was neighbour to him that fell among the thieves ? For who would bear tlic whips and scorns of time, Ac. How are you ? When do you sail ? Whure aw you going to ? Intellectual Elocution* 66 149. Rule X. — Questions thnt express conviction, whether as the roiiclusinn from premisi'S admitted or proved, or as an appeal with tho expect ition of judgment in our favor, or as an excluma- tioii. or !i» ;i conimmd, tike tho falling inflection. Appealing question. Judfe'C mo yc Gods I Wr my I mine enemies f Anfl, if not so, how should T urong my brother f I saifl an elder soldier, not a better: ]))d i sail heller 9 The words in it dics^ arc in tho form of a conclusive exclama- tion, and require, as Dr. Rush suggests,. a downward intonation through'. nt. » Thus also, Hamlet,, when he- sees- the king penitent «nd at prayer. Now might I do it ; pat, now he ia praying ; And now I'll do't ,*^ and so he goes to Ileaveni And so am ][ revenged f That is, as if he had said, "And so,- slaying my father's lurdcrcr, just after repentance -and prayer, I help him to hcaven> [and so am I revenged — ami?" , Argumentative or conclusive question. You all did see that on the Lupercal, . I lliricG presented him a kingly crown, , ■ . ., 'V' le did thrice refuse. Was this ambih'onf ;. matorjj question. I li .vith bread like you, feel want, taste grief, Need friends ; subjected thus How can you ■ sat/ to me : I am-a-Kmg /"—Rich. II. Imperative qi lim. Witches. See' Know no raore. Macbeth. I wii i satisfied, deny me this, And ua eternal curse fall on you ; let me know Why atnka that cauldron I And what noise ia thi* I B m Instruction in 150. The thoughtful student cannot fail to observe the scien- tific correctness and certainty of the principles of inflection as indicated in these rules. The interrogations arc not appeals expressive of ignorance, but declarations of decided conviction or command, and therefore delivered with that downward intonation ■which is the natural utterance of the satisfied mind. 151. Rule XI. — All commands and imperative sentences and exclamations take a falling inflection. Harkl haltl fly! depart I begone I hold I livel die! away! speak! I charge you. Brutus. — All this ? Aye more ! — fret, till your proud heart break, ^0, show yoar slaves how clioleric you are, And make your bondmea tremble. ADDENDA. 152. Rule XII. — Apposition. — Woras, phrases and sentence? in apposition follow the inflection of the members they represent. Edward, Duke of Kent, fourth son of George III, and father of Queen Victoria, died of a neglected cold. Here the nouns in apposition t:iko the rising inflection as they belong to the subject, that is, the incomplete member. But one grace Remains, the growth of nature — the true shoot- Abuse could not eradicate and leave The trunk and root alive — one virtue— manhood I The brow whereon doth sit disdain of threat ! Defiance of agression, and revenge For contumely. * In instances like the above, where several objects succeed each other, as hUvc, iinanlwod^ threat, aggression, contumelij, it is more graceful, as destructive of monotony, to give a rising inflec- tion to the penultimate clause of the objects, as aggression. (See Rule VIII.) Intellectual Elocution. 67 153. Rule. XII. — Antithesis. — "When words or members are brought iuto contrast they take contrary inflections. The kind of inflectien given to each contrasted member will depend on the preceding rules. At the same time the best skill, judgment and taste of the reader must be exercised to give variety and to avoid mono- tony in a series of antitheses. The following examples give single and double antitheses : — Ho spoke for, not agaiast peace. To be or not to be. Thus am I doubly arm'd : my life and death My bauc and antidote are both before me. Here life is contrasted with death, and bane with antidote; again, life and antidote, bane and death are in apposition and tike similar inflections ; finally, antidote is the next subject to the verb and always, in such cases, takes the rising incomplete inflec- tion. * 154. Rule XIV. — Let the inflections be arranged so that, in accordance with previous rules and principles, the rising inflection shall be given to negatived words and incomplete expressions, and the falling to affirmative and completed expressions. 155. Many and various rules have been given by writers on elocution, for the management of what is called loose sentences and sentences consisting of many members. Such sentences, in the first place, will not often trouble the student; and when he has thoroughly m;istcred the principles laid down in this essay, he will find little difficulty in reading loose sentences and series of mem- bers. The end to be kept in view is graceful variety, consistently with correct principles, as developed in the preceding rules. CIRCUMFLEX INFLECTIONS. 156. These inflections are generally defined as the union of the two inflections, the rising and tlie falling. They consist, however, in effect, of something beyoua, and more graceful than this. A pure rise and fall in the inflection would have a ccrtaia 1^ ^n < '■■< '■'*v i^; 68 Instruction in abruptness and angularity in it, not pleasing nor expressive to tlie ear. In whatever direction the voice moves, downwards and upwards, or upwards and downwards, it moves rather in a curve than in straight lines. The difficulty with untrained voices will be to move first from alow pitch, in a rising slur, then without any interruption return downwards, and in the same way advance from a high pitch downwards and then upwards with ease, and without any break in the voice ; and, whenever this difficulty occurs, the student must return to the gamut pr.tctice on the tonics thus : — ah, ah = ah. ah, ah = ah. 157. These inflections are more earnest and sweep through a larger compass than those of tlie conversational tone. When we ask the question /s he honest? in a careless, indifferent way, the inflection is a distinct rise of not more than a musical third. But if we ask the same question — moved with doubt, distrust or wonder, then the voice advances, thus: — Is will be uttered in a certain tone ; he will descend below it in pitch, hon will still advance downwards, but before ceasing will begin to move upwards, and est will advance upwards to a higher pitch than that on which Is was commenced, thus : — ■I^^Jiehoncst? These ascents and descents are usually in fifths, and in great earnestness, their compass is that of an octave. (See Gamut.) Thus Hamlet addresses Laertes : — Dost thou come hero to wlune — ' ^-^ To oatfacc ma with leaping in her grave? i :ii:i=i)=j;*zzi=: Its: :i* :»=i§--:=:t:= :m~ Dost thou come hero to whine. (Vandenhoff^s Elocution.) Intellectual Elocution, 69 158. Rule XV. — Vehement interrogation and sentences expressive of irony, scorn, contempt, wonder, mockery, or reproach, require the circumflex iuflections on the expressive words. Good frieads I sweet friends I let me not stir you up To such a sndden flood of mutiny. Irony: They that have done this deed are honorable 1 What private griefs they have, alas 1 I know not, That made them do it ; they arc wise and honorable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. Scorn : A child might understand it. Queen : Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended Hamlet : Mother, you have my father much offended. Reproach: Constance : Thou slave, thou -wretch, thou coward I Thou little valiant 1 great in villaiuy I Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To toach thee safety ! Lady Macbeth : Oh proper stufl'I This is the very painting of your fears — This is the air-drawu dagger which yod said led you to Duncan. 159. Rule XVI. — When the cKpresi^ire word h incomplete in itself the circumfloix \n^^ict[oa falls and then rises ; when it is com- plete and emphatic it rises and then fads. 70 Instruction in MONOTONE. IGO. By MONOTONE is understood the nearest possible approach to one continuous tone of voice. Tbc inflections are the same as those used in all other oases, hut they have less compass and varia- tion ; they are subdued, and have been aptly compared to the ghados which the artist introduces into his jpictnrc to set off its other parts. 161. Monotone is adapted to the expression of solemnity, sublimity, dread, and reverence. It is of tho first importance in reading the Psalms, the utterance of prayer, of Milton, the solemn passages of Shui^apcare, and all tragedy where the feeling is one rather of dignity and meditation than of passion. The orotund voice (page 40) is the best adapted to it ; but, in deep fear or horror, the voice may sink into the guttural and husky tone of terror, while the falsetto monotones will aid in imit:iting distant voices. The student who desires to unite dignity with power of delivery should read aloud any passages suitable to monotone, observing, especially in his practice, the important rule of reading slowlj/, by prolonging the vowels and voice letters. In all such practice the body should be erect, the chest expanded, the lungs well and con- .tinuously filled, the mouth rounded for the full orotund voice, and every new clause commenced in a deep, full tone. Lord, thou hast been our dwellbig-place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hast formed the earth and the < < world, even from everkisting to everlasting thou art God. — ^XC Psalm. (The whole of which offers an excellent practice) Methought I heard a voice cry, " Sleep no more I Macbeth does murder sleep." — Tho innocent sleep : Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, Chief noutisher in Life's feast. Still it cried " Sleep no more 1 " to all the house : Intellectual Elocution, 71 )proacli ame as i varia- to the .off its emuity, tance in 5 solemn f is one orotund ir horror, f terror, it voices. delivery bserving, owly, by tice the and con- oice, and Before the 1 and the C Psalm. " Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall Bleep no more — Macbeth ghall ilcep no more. " Observe that even in these and similar passages the monotone is not sustained to the end, but that the usual falling inflection will bo given to the closing clauses. 162. The student has now bocn made acquainted with the principles and the rules derived from tliem for the inflection of the voice. It is one of the most diflScult branches of elocution to manage, both to instructor and pupil. The clii^difficulty is, as wo have already stated, a physiological one — the management of the voice and the perception of the ear. This difficulty can be best overcome by elementary practice on the vowel sounds, and by read- ing aloud. The student must first decide by a reference to princi- ples, that is, to his own judgment, what inflcotionhe shall give to a doubtful word ; he must then give it and feel satisfied that he has both liiven the intended inflection and the extent or compass of inflection required. If he still feels doubt and difficulty he may seek the j udgment of any listener ; and so he must daily practice until the eff'ort can be made instantaneously, swiftly, and without any break or harshness of voice. It will aid his progress if ho listens to the inflections of others — of children, of conversations, of public oratory. It will further assist his studies if he notes the peculiarities of speakers and endeavours to ascertain why one voice ia pleasing, solemn, humorous, pathetic, &c., and why another is harsh, disagreeable, and inexpressive. For example, the peculi- arities and drollery of a good reader of Artcmus Ward will be due, as will bo found by observation, to a certain nasal utterance, and to a preponderance of strong, rising inflections, while those of a speaker who fatiijrucs the ear will be found to arise from the absenv;e of all O inflection — one continuous monotone, without due empha.sis or relieving pause. In short, the student who practices daily, uses his common sense, and always refers to nature for counsel, will make the most rapid progress, accepting it as an axiom in delivery that inflection is the very soul of expression. 1G3. The following additional exercises present some of the most important principles explained, and, as they are marked with L' '^imn I h\ 72 Instruction in proper inflections, they ought to be read aloud until the* student can without any difl&culty give the necessary inflection : EXERCISES IN INFLECTION. Incompleteness, Doubt, Contingency, Appeal,- Depen- dency, JlEGATION, AND CONCLUSION. Seeing we have this ministry, &s we have received mercy', we faint not ; but have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty ; not walking in crafti- ness, nor handling the Word of God deceitfully ; but by manifestation of llie truth, commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God So live, that when thy summons comes to join The inaumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where eacb-shallHake His chamber in the silent halls of death, ^ , Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night Scourged to hi3 dungeon, but, sustained and-soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. Think not that the influence of devotion is confined tath&-retirement-of the closet and the assemblies of the saints. Imagine not that, uncoanected with the duties of life, it is suited only to those enraptured souls whose feelings, perhaps, you deride as romantic and visionary. It is the guardian of innocence ; it is the instrument of virtue; it is a means'^ by which every good affection m^y be formed andimproved. 164. Antithesis and Contrast hy JVigatives and Affirmatives. Speaking as a man, I measure the integrity of men by their conduct, not by their professions ; by their deeds, not by their words. True charity is not a meteor, wliich occasionally glares, but a luminary, which, in its orderly and regular course, disperses a benignant influence. If any man sin, wo have an advocate with the Father, Jesus-Christ, the righteous. Intellectual Elocution, 73 Observe that advocnle, Jisus CJirisf, and righteous, being in apposition, have [Rule XII. par. 152,] the sumc iuflcction. And be is the projjitiutiou for our^iua, and not for ours only, but for the eina of the wbole M'lr.'c/, .ji. Richelieu : Do you deny me justice ? For fifteen years, while in these hands dwelt empire, The humblest craftsmai, the obscurest vassal, The very leper, shrinking from the sua. Though loathed by charity, might ask for justice, — Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien Of some I see around you — counts and prince^ Kneeling iovfaoors—hni erect and loud As men who asit man's rights. But this is no time for a tribunal of justice, but for showing meVcy^ not for accusa'tion, but for philanthrophy ; not for trial, but for pardon ; not for sentence and execution, but for compassion and kindness. 164. Observation. — Altliough a number or series of members in a sentence can comt uader no fixed rules of inflection, when such series offer opportunities for logical divisions or contrast, the reader may vary the inflections according to his taste and judg- ment, but always in harmony with principles. The follov/ing illustrations may be suggestive : — Neither bli'udness, nor gout, nor age, nor penury | —nor domestic- afflic- tions nor po'Uiical disappointments | — nor abiise, nor proscription, nor neglect nad power to di^sturb his sedate and majesiic patience. — Macaulay on Milton. For I am pursuaded thatneither deathnor life | — nor angels, nor princi- palities, nor powers I —nor things present, northings to come j —nor height nor depth, nor any other creature | — shall be able to separate us fiom the love of God which is in Christ Jesuaour Lord. 74 Instruction in II |i. ;■ :■ • : ■ / ' INTERROGATIONS^ 165. And we— shall we die in our chains Who once were free as the wind ? Who is it that tiireatens— who is it arraigns? Are they prinoes of Europe or lud — Are they Icings to the uttermost pole ? They are dog3,1 with a taint on their soul I Will the Lord oast off for ever, and will ho be favorable no more ? Is his merf.y clean gone for ever ? Doth his promise fail for evermore ? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mer- ci'es ? Wherefore ceasewe then ? Say they who counsel war ; We are decreed, Reserved and destined to eternal wOe ; Whatever doing what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse ? Is this then worst— ^ Thus sitting, thus consuWny, thus in AJRMS ? ' ( What I when we fled amain, pursued and ^Iruck With heaven's afflicting thunder and besought The deep to shelter us— this hell then seemed Or refuge- from-those wounds ; or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake— that sure was worse ? Rivals, Sire ! in what ? Service to France ? I have none ! lives the man Whom Eiu-ope, paled before your glory, deems Rival to Armand Richelieu? _. 166. Observatjon. — When questions separated by or are anti- thetical the inflections will by rule be opposite ; but when they do not imply an alternative they take the same inflections. The following are examples of both oases : Antithetical.— 'ShQ baptism of John, yraa it from heaven or of men? JrUellectual Elocution. 75 Then said Jesus unto them, I will ask you one thing. Is it lawful on Sabbath days to do good, or to do evil , to sare life or to destroy it? Non-Antithetical.— Do men gather grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles ? Is a caudle brought to be put und«r a bushel, or under a bed ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust ; Or flaltery soothe the dull cold ear of death ? Canst thou bind th« unicorn with his baud in the furrow, or will he har- row the valleys after thee ? Wilt thou trust him because his strength ia great? or wilt thou leave thy labour to him? Gavest thou the goodly wings unto the peacocks ? or wings and feathers unto the ostrieh ? Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook; or his tongue with a cord which thou Icttcst down? Canst thou put a hook into his nose ; or bore his jaw with a tiiorn ? Wilt thou play with him as with a bird ; or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens? Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons or his head with fish spears ? In reading these questions the second or last clause of each couple of connected questions should receive a stronger inflection, that is, greater compass than the first. 1G7. The interrogative members of a sentence must be sepa- rated and distinguished from any qualifying part that may bo attached to them. The actual question sometimes terminates immediately before such qualifying clause which follows as a parti- cipal phrase or a subordinate clause. In such cases the iutcrrogar tivc iiilloctiou will fall on the last word of the actual question, and the qualifying clause will be delivered as a finished statement ending- with thj falling inflection. In the following cases the question ends with "esteem" and "presence." Would'st thou have that i .)' Which thou estecm'st the ornament of life, And livo a coward in thine own esteem (?) — Letting, *I dare not' wait upon * I would,' Like the poor cat i' the adage. I ^■■^■ I ' ' lli^ i« 76 Instruction in Dlds't thou not think such vcugcauce must await The wretch that, with hid crimes all fresh about him, Rushes irreverent, uupreparod, uucallcd, Into his Malior's presence (?) — throwing back With insolent disdain. his choicest gift? {BelVa Elocution.) Surprise — Exclamations, Incomplete and Complete. 168. Incomplete^ appeals and invokes. ConqjletCf commands and aflirms. Hamlet: What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infin- ite in faculties I in form and moving— how express and admirable ! in action how like an angel I in apprehension how like a god I And the king was much mov«d, and went up to the gate, and wept, and as he went, thus he said, my son Absalom 1 my son, my son Absalom I— Would God I had died for thee, Absalom, my son, my sou 1 Gone to be married I gone to swear a peace I False blood to false blood joined 1 Gone to be friends I Cordelia : you kind gods, i Cure this great breach in his abused nature 1 The uutoncd and jarring senses— wind up ! , Of this child-changed father I Belshazzar: Oh! Chaldeas worshipped sages, Oh 1 men of wisdom, that have passed your years — Your long and quiet solitary years — In tracing the dim sources of the events That agitate this world of man — Oh ! ye That in the tongues of every clime discourse, Yc, — that hold converse with the eternal stars, And in their calm proplietic courses read The destinies of empires ; ye, whose dreams Are thronged with the predestined images "" Of things that are to be ; to whom the Fates Ititelleetual Elocution, n Unfold their secret couasols ; to whose sight The darlcacsd ofi'uturily withJrawa, And one vast present tlli all time —behold You burniug characters 1 aud read "^aud say Why tho dark destinies "ihavo huag their sentence Thus visible to the sight, but to the mind unsearchable. (i/i7man.) This extract offers a good illustration of successive appeals, each nomvji.itive of address (vocative case) attended by an explana- tory adjective clause, which always takes the same inliectiou as the leadiuig word which in this instance it qualifies. Observe that in such earnest appeal the inflection is greater ia extent than in unimpasaioned conversation, nairative or didactic subjects. It will vary in compass, extending frcta a fifth to an octave. "Hold! hold!" he eric J, "yoti wound me! That is the rock on which I split, I denied liis name!" and thon with vehemence he exclaimed, "Oh I time! time ! is it fit thou shouldest strike thy murderer to the heart ? How art thou Oed for ever! A muath ! oh, for a single week ! I ask not for years, thougli an age were too little for the ra\ich I have to do ! " 1G9. Finally ^ the student of Elocution should read all these exercises aloud as they are marked. He may differ as to the inflections given to tliem. But let him first read them many times over as they are, and then he can apply his own judgment and taste to alter them. MODULATION— PITCH OF VOICE AND TIME. 170. The attention of the student was directed to the subject of modwlation in the diagram of the diatonic scale, (p. 20.) When he read on the deepest note Do, that might be cousidered the J.ow PITCH, when on Sol, the middle pitch, and when on the upper Do, a very UIOH pitch. But, whatever tone the speaker adopts, low, or middle, or high, he ought carefully to avoid any tendencies IE i •*■" ■ '■■■^Pii 78 Instruction in to cxtrcmca. Tho low pitcli should be puro in tone and dis- tinctly audible, and the lii^h should never be screamy, scjueaky or tundinj^ to f.ilHotto. Tho voice must be alwayH under the perfect control of the will and agreeable with good t;i«te; so manageable fts that the speaker can instantly arrest it when it has reached its highest or lowest point of clearness, and then, to use u military term, as tho basis of operation ulwajjs return to the natural midde jntch. 171. General Piunciples, — Tho mlhlh pitch is tho natural one. It is that of agreeable conversation, and when assumed in tho public hall only dem inds more force and distinct- ness of articulation and slower time for delivery. It is the pitch necessary to narration, and to subjects where thought and reason- ing rather than passion prevail. 172. The hirjh pitch is used to express excited joy, or exul- tation, triumph or rage, while the low jtitch is best ada])tcd for deep solemn thought, concentrated rage, terror, &c. 173. Time is an essential quality of modulation, and may bo divided into quick, nwdcrnte, and slow. As a general rule, open to exceptions, the low pitch and the slow time go together ; the middle pitch, as adapted to unimpassioned subjects, will associate with moderate time, while the high pitch, as expressing excitement and passion, will bo delivered in quick time. The following example is marked with reference to time and pitch, and the student is recommended to read it aloud according to these marks ; the underlined words are emphasized : MIDDLE PITCH, SLOW TIME. First Fear his hand its skill to try, Amid the chords bewildered laid ; ' Quick Time. And back recoiled, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made I niail PITCII, QUICK TIME, '.J Next -4n/7er rvished, his eyes on fire, ' In lightnings own'd his secret stings ; In one *1 rude *" clash— ho struck the lyre And swept 1 with hurried-hands — the atnngs Intellectual Elocution, 79 'd its LOW PITCH, MONOTONE, SLOW TIME. With woeful measures, wan Despair Very Low, Low sullen "1 sounds his grief beguiled A solemn, atrango and mingled air— 'Twas Bud by fits — Quicker Time^ and > By starts 'twas wild. Higher Pitch, j 13ess, endless and sublime, TIio i-'-nago ofefcrnit;/, the throne Of the Invi$iblf ; even from out thy slime The vionsters of the deep are nuule ; each zone Obeys thee j thou goed forth, dread, fathomless, ALONE. F I! l-' ■■ ' ■',■ ' I k Instruction in Tlius again, in the " Field of '\Vat3rloo," liow suggestive of the hurried preparations I'or battle, the distant roaring of artillery, the beat of the drum, tae tramp of armed men, the following descrip- tion becomes, when each expressive word receives its appropriate tone : And there was mountiny in hot haste ; the steed, TliJ mustering squadrun, and the cialtcring car, Wcni i>i>ttrin-/ forward with viipeluous speed, And swiftly f.irmin ing tlie ranks of war; And tiie dc'/' thumh'r, peal i)n. 2'<-'ctl t'/nr. And near the l/euf of the alarming/ dram Ji'oiiscd \\\) tlie soldier ere the morning star ; Wliih> tlirongcd the citizens, with terror dinnb, Or wkispcriiij wiih wiiite iiiis, " the/uc; / thcj' cowc/ thry come I" The Siiipwreck in Don Juan is equally suggestive of tlie wild uproar and horrt)r of the storm, and the destruction it depicts. Pope, who was a consummate master of luiguage, abounds in simi- lar examples, which are recommended for vocal practice. Thus, in the '• Ijssay on Criticism," he illustnites with appropriate words the principles ho enforces. So/l is the strain when Zcjihjr gently blows, And the siiiQo:h stream in smnnllier niimJ/er fuiws ^ But when loud surges lash the soumling shore, The hoarse rough verse shouM like the torrent roar ; When Ajax strives some rue'i's ras' weight to throw, The line, too, labours and the words move slow ; Not so when swift Camilla, scours ihe plain, Flies o'er the unbending corn, a. id ski)ns along the ])laiii. 180. In all such instances the rule for delivery is g(MiO)'al but (ilear, it must be imitative. When there are swiftness and hurry, the words must sweep al«5ng with equal sj jed ; when the action is slow, when the subject described is heavy, massive, and v:!st, then the niovemcnt is slow and the time prolonged ; when tlic topic is elevated the tone rises; when mournful it sinks in pitch and expands in time. i^ul)jects of a joyous cliaracter, like tlie descrip- tion of Qitcrii Mnb, as already suggested, dance along with a bounding, ringing, cheerful tone of voice. The student must think; he must understand what he reads, conceive it in his own imagination, and then picture it forth in vocal delivery. He who aims incessantly to do this Ihithfully will not only improve his Intellectual Elocution. 83 poTrer of tL-livery, but in tliat effort to conceive, to realize vO himself the thoughts expressed in words, he will cultivate and strengthen that imaginative faculty which spiritualizes life. ■al but hurry, 'tion is t, then •pic is h and escrip- jwith a must lis own le who Ive h'lH GHOUPIXG OF SPEI^:CIT. 190 "I have adopted a term from the art of painting to designate the instrumentality of pauses and certain uses of the voice, in uni- ting the related ideas of discourse, and separating those whicli are unrelated to each other." (i)y Jiu.sh.) In his work on the Phi- losophy of the human voice, from which the above extract is t.tkcn. Dr. Hush has ably described the methods by whicli members of sentences, logically related, but separated by intervening clauses and words, iiust bo read so as to realize to the hearer as well as to the reader the connection of the interrupted parts and the sense of the passage. This is one of those important difficulties with which the reader of Milton and Shakspcure and of all the higher poetry and prose literature of our country constantly meets, the full comprehension of which requires an icquaintancc with the grammatical construction and the analysis of sentences, and the study of which, apart iVom all elocutionary objects, forms a high mental discipline. Every English scholar is competent to meet this difficulty, and derives the same delight and profit from the study that the classical schol ir receives when reading the Latin and Greek authors. But every Elngli.-h scliohir is not competent to real- ize to a hearer, to whom he reads, this logical and sentential rela- tionship which he has made clear to liimsclf It is here that the science of elocution comes to hisaid, and thcfolhtwingexpl matious arc offered as an abstract of the learned and masterly discussion of the subject by Dr. Rush. 191. The rel itionship of kindred thought-; is shewn by the modulation of the voice, by pitch, by inflection, by rapidity of movement and especially by the E-MPiiatic Tie. 1 92. The emphatic tie consists in givin'- to wi,rds directly related and peribrming the same function, as subjects or objects of a sen- 84 Instruction in i^. "V II ' .^ flw tence, the same distinctive force. The following lines, from Collins' Ode on the Passions, present an illustration of this emphatic tie : When Cheerfulness, a nymvh of healthiest hue, Ilcr bow across her shoulder flung, Ilor buskins gomm'd with morning dew. Blew an in^pirinj aii\ tliat dale and tliickct rung, The hunter's call, to Fawu and Dryad known. In these lines the phrases im^pirinj air and hunter's call are in apposition, they both stand for the same thing; but, unless the reader examine the sentence grammatically, he might suppose that after ins^nring air, the dale and thicket rung the hunter's call. The sense, however, is that the nymph blew an inspiring air, that this was t\iQ hunter s call, that the dale and thicket rung with that call, and that it was known to Fawn and Dryad. Now, to show this relationship and order, the words " When Cheerfulness — blew an inspiring air — the hunter's call" must be delivered in a higher pitch, while inspiring air and hunter s call rc.ccivQ the same stress and inflection. The modulation of the voice thus shows that the author means the hunter's call to be the inspiring air. The intervening words are delivered with a reduced emphasis, and thus also their connection is shown. 193. The following example will further illustrate this im- portant and interesting feature of elocution. The italicized words show the arbitrary emjtliasis, while the parentheses (not in the text) enclose the clause with ri^duced emphasis which is uttered in more rapid movement, and " view" is delivered in monotone. In this way it will be made manifest to the hearer that heaven and the deep tract of hell form the nominatives disjunctively to hides. Say first, — For Heaven, (hides notliing from thy view) Nor the deep tract of lldl. The intelligent student will see that, while the meaning is that neither Heaven nor the deep tract of hell hides anything from the view of Illm whom the poet invokes, it might bo read so as to convey the idea that '^ Heaven hides nothing from thy view nor from the deep tract of hell. Intellectual Elocution, 86i ,Tcd ;one. and lies. that the to nor 194. The following passages present example for practice, and the principle reduced to rule will stand thus: — 195. Rule. — In sentences separated by intervening clauses, tho members logically related, represented by nouns in apposition and participles and adverbs and other parts of speech, modifying tho principal words, must be read with similar stress and in similar time, while the iutervcuing clauses are delivered more rapidly and in monotone. " There was a Brutus once that would have brooked (The eternal Devil to keep bis state in Rome) As easily as a king." Here hroohed and casilj are tied emplmtlwlly, while the words in parenthesis are delivered more swiltly, and on one level of the voice. " Thus while he snake ; each passion (dimmed his face Thrice changed with pale,) ircj envy and despair. ^^ Hard pale is a noun, and ire. cuvjj tind dcsjjair mean each passion, and are in apposition with it. RHETORICAL PAUSES. 196- Rhetorical punctuation is an addition to grammatical punc- tuation. Both musi bo observed by the eflfective reader. The latter is sufficient to tho silent reader to guide his eye in distinguishing the connection and separation of thought. But when we road aloud, this connection and the separation require additional vocal pauses to make the subject intelligible. Moreover frequent pauses are indispensable for breathing, and the reader should become thor- oughly habituated to the practice of brcif king through the nostrils every time he pauses. When the pauses are long, as at the end of a sentence, the reader may take a full inspiration and thoroughly replenish the lungs, while a short inspiration, rapidly drawn through tho nose will suffice during a short pause. Redders cannot pause too often, for every pause is a relief to reader and hearer. The GENERAL PRINCIPLE, almost sufficient in itself for the guidance of the grammatical fscholar, is to. pause be/ore every adjunct and every f;^ 86 Instruction in clcnise in a sentence. Prcpof^Itlong and relative pronouns, for exam- ple, introduce adjunetn, and clauses, i. e. new forms of thought, and demand a pause before them. From this general priuciplo the following rules are derived : — RULES FOR PAUSES. Mark for Pause — 197. Rule i.— Pause after the logical subject of the scutcuce when it consists of several words. Every thing human— admits of change and vicissitude. Yes, my brelhreu. the liual catastroi^he of all human passions — is rapid as it is awful I 198. Rule II. — I*ause after the nominative when only one single word, if it be an important and emphatic one. The king — is come to raai'shal us, all in his armor drost. And Urutus— is an honourahlo man. Thus conscience — does make cowards of us all. And Nathau — said unto David, 'fkou — arL the man. 199. Rule III — Pause after the iaverted members of a sen- tence. No mattv^r in what language— his doom may have been preiiounced. To siicli (luestions- what nmst be me answer? For— in that slcej) of death — wiiat dreams may come. Few and short — were the words— we spoke. The rights of the living— he violated ; the ashes of the dead — ho desecrated and scattered to the winds. By thai siu— fell the augols. 200. Rule IV — Pause whenever there is au important ellipsis, especially of the verb. As from the wing no scar the sky retains ; The parted wave — no furrow from the keel. To our faith, we should add virtue; and to virtue knowled""e" and to kn^wkr.'i by birth, and a, scholar by charity. 20J. Hulk VII. — Pause before and after clauses and phrases comnieuciug with prepositions. ExcKPTiON. — Do not panse before o/'when it is the sign of the possessive case. The character of Milton was peculiarly distinguished — hy loftiness of tliougliL; that of Dante — h>j intensity of feeling. What is that you wonld impart to me? If it be ought — toward the general good, Set honour //; one eye, aud— death — ^' the other And I will look — on both — indiflerently. "Why raiher, Sleep, liest thou — in smoky cribs — Upon imeasy pallets — stretcJiing thee. And hushed — with buzzing night flies — to tliy slumber, Than — /// he ])erfiini('d chambers of the great — (.'inkr the canopies ot cosily slate, And luird — wiih sounds of sweetest melody ? 201. lluLiu Till. — Pause beibrc and after all conjunctions and adverljs of time, place, comparison, &.C., when they connect or introduce distinct phrase^) and clauses. Let U8 reflect that time waits for no man. Bcft peace she hi'inga—u- /terever she arrives; She builda our quiet— aa she forms our rest. ! i ,!.] i^i ''9 • I \w 1 I:-? • 1 .■♦, l' ;-1i ■. ('■■■' 'it i ill '!s t 88 Instruction in Thy words had such a melting flo'W', • And spoke of truth— w swcelly well, They dropped — like heaven's screncst snow, And all was brightness — where they fell. Nations— Z«^e men, fail in nothing which they boldly undertake— O'/iew flustaiued— by virtuous purpose— a/jt/ firm resolution. Observe — It may be taken as a safe rule that when and, Int, or^ ifi «*> /or, and similar conjunctions are immediately attached to words -which they combine, there vshould be no pause t//iCcr them, as ; We tdoiipht as we hollowed his narrow bed. And nmoothed down his lonely pillow That the foe — and the stranger — woald troad o'er Lia Lead, And we— far away— on the billow. But if intervening clauses or an ellipsis- separate them, then, on the principle that such clauses introduce new ideas, or demand a mental effort to refer to- the words omitted, a pause is required. 205. Rule IX. — Pause after words in apposition, or-in opposi- tion. Oh? sacred Trnth, thy triumph ceased awhile, And Hope— thy sister— ceased with thee to^emile. He — raised a mortal to the skies; She — drew an angel down. 20 G. Rule X. — Pause before the infinitive mood 'Whtjn cot immediately preceded by a modifying word. Whereto serves ilercy But — to- confront the visag* of oQ'ouco ? Is there not raiu enough in the sweet Heavens— To wash it white as snow? Proceed to judgment ; by my soul I swear There is no power— la the tongue of mau^ To alter me. 207. Rule XI. — Pause between the object and modiTymg words when in inverted order. ^ He strained, with arm — extended far, And fingers — widely spread, greedy— tO' touch Though — but his idol's garment. m Intellectual Elocution' 208. Rule XII. — Pause generally before and after ciupliatio words. To be, or — not—Xo be, that— is the qnostion. Yo>i called me — (/o^— nnd for these — courtesies. I'll leiul yon thus luiirh laoiioys. Queen. Ilamlct, thou liasL thy father much offcndod. llumlel. M(jtlier— vo'/ — have mv f.ilhcr much olTended. Some said, " This Is he," others said, •' lie is like him," but hc said, '.'e3— like a dog ! March on I he said. 209. These are the principal rules for rhetorical pausing. The student must, however, again bo referred to the general principle that every interruption to the logical relationship of the thought) every word thrown in to modify or explain or give new force to the subject demands a pause ; and he who thoroughly conceives the subject and understands the analysis of the sentence will need little help from rules, save as authorities in cases of doubt. 210. It has already been said that it is impossible to indicate the TIME to be given to each pause. The logical relationship of the thoughts, the character and intensity of passion expressed, or the vivacity or solemnity of the subject, will suggest the proper law of time ; and the length or brevity of a pause must b(5 loft to the judgment and intelligence of the student. Long pauses are often demanded when the mind is under the influence of fear or deep reverence, and sometimes even in the utterance of humour ; but when these pauses are prolonged, the accomplished speaker, reader or actor fills up the silence with appropriate expression or gesticu- lation, which becomes itself a speaking language. Thus, when Hamlet addresses the Ghost : i 11 call thee — ITamlet — King — father — Royal Dane— Oh! answer me. Tho pauses are long and solemn, but the interval is filled up by an. expression of eloquent though silent awe and pathos by the It • f ■ , I' '' . « • ■i •.-I 00 Instruction in accnmpli'^liod Mctor, as improssivo jis iha ^lnpfuapJO lio utter?'. In all Midi iiist:iiicos tlio i^tudi'iit iniist bo natural, never dcsiii-iiiu; rule or law, but becoming uulcpcndetit ol'tluau, not by inditrercneo to their value, but by the truthl'ul re;di//itl()U tu his own mluJ uftho thou!j,i:t and pussiou he becks to repreaeat. GllAMMATiCAL GROUPING OF WORDS. 211. The n;raminatical ficholar, that is to nay, any one pop.«!oss. ing a knowledj^o ot'the})art.s of speech, will find it ol\t;Teat service to group certain words aceordin^- to the {iranimatieal relations, regarding the group of words thus related as one oftATOiilCAL WORD ; and, as in single words of more than one syllable, there will be accented and unaccented syllables, rso in the group of words there will bo one prominent "word, which, without being entitled to the distinction of an emphatic word, will, nevertheless, receive more force of voice than the other words to which it is attached. Between such words there will be ao pauses, and the pauses will occur betweeu the groiqis. 212. The following is a digest of more elaborate rules given by Professor A. M. Bell, in his "Elocutionary Manual," and it will assist the student in grouping the words of a .seutcnce, iiud in selecting more important words for accentual emph) ; the auxiliary and principal verb, and the verb transitive and its object, with its qualiiyiiig words, as one word ( ) ; and any complement or separate adjunct of the object or prcclieuto as one oratorical word () leads (c) tu-tlie-^owti, (J) and-(3i*r7/-hour (a) in-///t' '.u) halh'becn (c) io-aomc (d) ihi^-fd.sl-honv (is demands the necessary pause before and after the emphasized word. Oh pardon-me, tliou-bloedin o;% y # # Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 f/j ' 92 Instruction in 'TIs-IIeaTcn-itself that-points-out-an — hereqfter^ And-intimates — Eternity — to-man. Go, show-your — tlaoei — how-choleric you-are, And-makc-your — io/»(/miessive of his defi.ince, exultation, and hatred, lie dwells on the word a moment to prolong its force, and so adds time to complete its jwwer. Briefly then, the emphasis here requires ;)aH«c, change oi' j'itch, force and time, 219. Sometimes the inflection of the emphatic word is a ri.Mng one. 'J'hen the voice descends below the current tone or lino of melody, as : , Docs God, after having made bis creatures, take no further care of (hem f Here the voice descends in pitch after uttering " no," and begins " fur" in a lower key, and then runs upwards to the end of the word. 220. The following arrangement will aid in illustrating this vocal movement : On what compulsion ^^ * ■ It ■•■;■ ciiipliiisi<<, and f^lioulJ be read uloud hj tbc student until lie can give any degree of emphasis ho wishes^ I'll be la mon'a deapile a monarch t Good, my licgo, for Justice. Hiim/n, sire, in vhatf Service to France ? i have none. I cli.'irgo thco fling away ambition. O tliat those L'ps bad language. But (joil said unto him " ihouyoo/, this night thy soul shall be nquireddt thee." Again, when Ilamlct, in the closet scene utters the following Word.> : *' IIiTc is your husband, like a mildewed car, Blastino— his ■wholesome brotlicr I" While "is" becomes emphatic, by contrast with the previous words, ** this was your husb:ind," the full passion of scorn, hatred, and loathing disgust is gathered up and hurled with a di'<'p napi- rntcd i)()\vor on the word "blasting;" and its force is intensified by the fclow, scornful monotone in which " like a mihhvrd ear'^ is uttered ; the pause that succeeds " wr," like the iiiterval of a thunder storm, gives deeper effect to the emphasis of the principal word. 223. The Elements that constitute Emphasis. — It may then be briefly stated that, according to the chanict(>r of the thought or passion expressed, some of the following elements enter into all emphasis: pause, fohce, pitch, inflection, TIME and aspiration. For the quantity of any of these elements to be thrown into the emphatic word no rules can be given. The intensity of the emphasis, as in the above word " blasting," or the " itching palm" of Cassius, or the " mvi^t /" of Shylock, will depend on the force and passion of the sentiment On the other hand, a mere change of inflection is sometimes enough to give emphasis to contrasted words, and is all that is requisite where the subject is calmly didactic or argumentative. It is only in utterances of overwhelming passion, wrath, scorn, hatred, or Intelleotual Elocution. 95 exultation that all the qualities nr.sied arc demanded to make word.-i, like a two-edged sword, pierce the soul. 221. Ileuce -omphiuiis is generally divided into two kinds: 1. Emphasis op Sense. 2. Emphasis op Feelinq, 225. Empiiasir of Sense will alter the moanino: of a sontoncc, and miy be varied accordiug to the intention of the sponkiir or reader. Let the reader take the following sentence, and i^'ivo stress to all the words in Kuccesisidn, and ho will give as many meaniiiirs to the question as there arc words in it : Do you ride to Ilatnilton this week? 220. In every uttered or writt n thought there will Ix^ fit least one cuii)]i:itic word of sense, and tlie stud(>nt should m;.k"! it a sp'-cial Study to discover the word which best conveys the lueaning of the author, and give it the necessary emphasis. The exercise will be ot value in cultivating the judgment and the ear; and, ns an :;id for these two olyccts, especially if in doubt as to the ri-.ht word, any other >Yord may be emphasized for experiment. The Book ot Proverbs, the Argument;;tivc Kpistles of St. Paul, Pope's Moral Essay?, the Essay on ]Man, and similar writings offer ample materials. Such emphasis generally is antithetic. The contrast is c."'.:r expressed or understood, and it thus stands opposed to the emphasis of feeling, which is absolute and not suggestive of contrast. 227. The following aro examples of the cmpliasis of sense; similar exercises should be read frequently by the student. Rule. — ]Mark emphasis of sense by inflection, giving contrary inflcctlms when antithetical, and throwing stress on tlie emphasized words. A wise son makctb a glad father, but a,/ooliah son is the heaviness of his mother. The memory of ihQJust is hlessr;!, but tho name of the wickal shn/l rot. The mouth of the riyhteous man is a well oi life, but violence covorcth th9 mouth of the wicked. i 96 Instruction in To err is human, to forgive divine. As it is the part of justice never to do violence, it is that of modesty never to commit ofTcnco. With the talouts of an angel, man may be a fool. If by your beard your wisdom you would show, Kiiuw goats have beards and Plato was a beau.. All nature is but art, unknown to thee • All cliunce-direction, which thou canst not see ; All discord harmony, not understood ; All partial evil, universal good ; And, spite of pride in erring reason's sight, One truth is clear, wimtcver w— is right. 228. Emphasis op Feeling is an arbitrary emphasis, not necessary to tlie sense of the passage, but of the first importance in expressing the special focliug that animates the speaker. Such emphasis is ahvays marked by decision and completeness, even if it ocour in a question, us when Shyloek asks " on what compulsion must I." Whether in a decided aflSrmation, denial, or question, the speaker is clearly satisfied in his own mind, and is free from all doubt, when he uses this emphasis as an expression of feeling. Thus when Shyloek puts the above question so often quoted, it is asked with tlie full conviction in his own mind that he cannot be compelled to show mercy ; hence the following rule : 229. Rule. — Emphasis op Feeling is always made with a palling inflection. . , 230. Tn using this emphasis the reader must remember (1) That the inflection is of greater compass than ordinary, varying from a musical tliird to a full octave. (2) That, in order to descend with greater force, the voice after pausing a moment ascends above the current line of melody, and ascends just in proportion to the sweep of downward emphasis that is to follow. 231. It is not however imperative nor always most eflfectivo that a great compass should be given to the slide. A strong aspi- rated tone will be equally expressive, as in Hamlet — *' This is your Intelleetual Elocution, 97 husb ind, like a mildewed car, blasting his wholesome brother ;'* hero tlio locliiig u not expressed ou the word blasting :,o much by groat I'oiup.iss ;i8 by a strong aspirated tone, and a prolonged pro- nunci itiuii of the word. 232. This expression of emphasis by time is especially adapted to irony, ridicule and scorn, as in the Ibllowing illustration : Cassius : Ai/e, do you /ear it ? Then raust I think you would not have it so. Courai/eous chief! the lirst in jlijht from pain. 23.'J. In the above examples additional force is given to the expression by the circumflex inflection, which also aids in pro- longing the time. * , Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. Mother, you have my father much offended. 23 1, So also by a lonientful history, Is — SECOND CHILDISHNESS— and mere oblivion : Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sana everything. From this view another rule is derived. 235. lluLE II. — When the feeling is one of deep loathing, disgust, horror or fear, the rsmphasis may be best expressed by an aspirated tone ; and when irony, ridicule or scorn is to be expressedi the emphasis is made by a prolongation of time. 230. Special emphasis may also bo given by changing the pitch of the voice; tliat is by raising the emphatic word or worda above the current melody and continuing them on that tone, or by depressing the pitch. Evil be thou my good ; by thee at least Divided empire with heaven^s king I hold. Then shall the King say unto them on his r'ght hand, Come, ye blessed Cjf "ny Father^ inlteril the kingdom prepared /or you from the /oundation of th$ World, a 98 Instruction in U};^^ [!'■■ *'. 237. There is a form of composition in which a number of iii)])ortint words or ideas succeed each other with increasing force. Each word will then require a continued increase of cmjthasis until the close. Thus St. Paul replied to the ma^'istrates who had so unjustly imprisoned him, when they requested him to depart quietly : liut Paul said, " They have beaten ns openly uneondemned, heinff Romatu, anii have cast us into prison ; and now do they thrust ua out privily? Nay verily ; but let tliem come themselves and fetch us out." 238. This is ciUod cumulative emphasis, and is very effective when the emphatic words express an increasing accumulation of passionate enerc^y as the speaker advances to a climux. The followitii^ example, selected from VandenhoflTs Elocution, presents a powerful iiluy^tration of this form of emphasis when used under the excitement of deep passion : If thou dost slander her— and torture me — A'cDcr^iray more : abandon all rc/norsc ; i, r ^ On horror's head, horrors accumulate, Do deeds — to make lieaven weep, all earth amazed: For nothipg cau'st thou to damnation add, greater than this. Othello. 239. Caution. — Great discrimination is required not only in affixinj^ the proper emphasis to the proper words, with its appro- priate inflection, but especially in avoiding too frequent emphasis. Inexperienced readers have a strong tendency to emphasize too many words, and to express the emphasis in jerking tones. Too frequent emphasis is, however, destructive of all empliasis. It mtikes too many words prominent, and hence injures the impor- tance and effect of the one word which, duly emphasized, properly interprets the passage, and sets off to better advantage the less important words by confining them to their subordinate but fitting office. The student and reader must select the one word in a clause which represents the leading thought — that which is to convey the striking expression, which best expresses the supreme feeling of the speaker ; and that, properly emphasized, will be far more effective, forcible and plciising, than an accumulation of unnecessary emphasis on every word that apjpears to be important. Intellectual Elocution. •9 240. There is an exception to this cantion in the use of the STACCATO FORCE, as explained by Prof. D. C. Bell : — " When several words in suceession arc accented and separated by brief emphatic pauses, a kind of general emphasis is formed culled STACCATO " or beating as if with short, but forcible and separate strokes of sound. " What men could do Is done already : lieavca and earth will witness If Rume must fall — that we are innocent." "In one rude clash— he struck the lyre." "And ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum— with furious heat." " Yet still he kept bis w'ild unalter'd mien While each Strained ball of sight — seem'd Bursting from his head." PUBLIC READING. 241. The first qualification for success in public reading is that the reader shall undeilstand what he reads. If the com- position be his own, he will, no doubt, understand it; and if it be not his own, he must, by previous study, make it his own. The next qualification, especially if the subject be one in which the workings of human passions are to be displayed, is that of deep and genuine feeling. If the composition be one to perbuade men by argument and appeiil to their passions, tlie reader must kindle in his own mind the fervour of genuine feeling, the intense desire to carry his audience along with him, and make them disciples of the views he enforces. He who just reads, that is pronounces the words and sentences before him, however excerient Uiey may be, will assuredly fail in his object. This mechanical tamencss in public reading is no doubt the reason why excellent com- positions, delivered by the authors themselves, as written speeches, lectures, and sermons, so often fail in effect, and arc therefore so objectionable. The author most probably was in earnest when ho loa Instruction in wroto his production, when tlio thoughts first swept tlirougb bid mind and passed into livinu;, visible language. But when ho stands before his audience, he assumes another office, and without the conceptivo faculty of the actor and the skill of the elocutionist, ho can no more recite hia own composition than 3Iozart could sing his own divine music. Tho difficulty, no doubt, with many is to assume this fceliug. The author must recall his first impressions and re-kindlc tho fires that first animated him ; while he who reads the composition of another must conceive and feel as tho author conceivctl and felt. Tho great actor, beyond doubt, does all this. lie makes the thought and the conception his own, and realizes to himself what he represents to his audience. Tho power of success, especially when tho production is dramatic, where human beings are to bo introduced as liring and speaking, or where human passions arc to be deeply moved, depends largely on tho strength of the imaginative faculty. That faculty is stronger in some than others; but it is certain that tho more we study to understand, to conceive and to feel what wo intend to read, we cultivate, we develop that faculty It grows in power with study. Mr. Sergeant Coxe, in his excellent work on these subjects, most' truly says : *' Of our greatest writers — the men of genius — it may bo asserted that you cannot know them fully until you have read them aloud." Tho act of reading, with the object of realizing to-oursolves and others what wo read, gives life and reality to what we read ; and if we earnestly aim, naturally, forcibly and truthfully, to utter with our own voices tho written thoughts of tho book, to understand the thoughts and to feel tho passion, the power will come, and by • repeated efforts grow in vividness and truthfulness. Nature has gifted us all more or less with imagination. It is vivid and fresh in childhood. The realities of life tend to subdue and crush it. Poetry, Fiction, Painting, Music and Religion ro-kinc>lc and foster it, and assuredly, amid the dreary common places of life, it is wise in us to cultivate that which sometimes lifts us beyond the material world into a higher world of spiritual life and beauty. Now, the study and practice of elocution assist in cultivating this imacina- tive faculty. It is not by a knowledge of elocutionary principles that we can read well, but by understanding and foelin g what we Intellectual Elocution, 101 read. Elocution, however, qualifies us fur doing all this well. Wo must be able to control and modulate the voice. We must think bow men, bow tec ourselves epeak under the influence of our own feelings, and the knowledge of elocutionary laws is derived from th« knowledge of human actions under the influence of n;itural feeling. Ilcncc the absolute necessity of a kuowlod;^o of its principles and rulcH. Many very scnsillo things have been said about the uso lessuess of rules, and trusting to nature as the best guide ; but the study of the rules is in fact the study of natural laws, and of tho operations of the human mind in all its conditions ; and tho accom- plisihed elocutionist, having mastered his art, no more thinks of the rules that guide him than the ready writer or tho public speaker docs of the rules of grammar. Besides all this, it is undeniable that the grea' majority of men whose office it is to read and speak before the public, and who read and speak badly, arc ignorant of the laws of elocution, and that those who read well act in accord- ance with them. 242. Public Reading, as an entertainment, is becoming an important institution of the age. It is in many respects supersed- ing tho attractions of the theatre. It is realizing in a new form the creations of poetry and fiction to the people. It is an admirable preparation and discipline for public speaking. It gives the reader confidence, power of self-control, and facility in delivery ; and ia association with its sister art, Music, nearer to the rank of which it is fast approaching, it Is exercising a high, moral and intellectual influence on public character. It is, therefore, of great importance that tho public reader, whether amateur or professional, should avail himself of all tho modes by which his " reading" can be made most effective. 243. EuLE I. — Selection of Pieces. — Judgment and experience of public taste are very necessary to guide us in selecting successful readings. We must not be governed by our own tastes. Argumen- tative and meditative discourses — subjects of any kind that demand close attention of the reasoning faculties — always prove failures. Hence, delightful as lililton, or Young, or Thomson may be to read in our closets, they will be found quite unsuitable for selections for public readings. The selection should be picturesque, emotional 102 Instruction in h'. and (Ir.imatio in ohtiractor. Scones from the f^cat dramatists and from writers of fiction, when the dialogue is well sustained, full of point, passionate, escitinpr, marked by fiery ourncstness, pathos or humour, are the best. Shakspcarc, Ben Jonson, Mwsinger, Otway, Buhvcr, Knowles, Talfourd, and Marston ; and in fiction, Scott, Dickens, and others, offer ample selections. Poetical selections aboutid, and are generally more effective than proHO, because, in addition to the charms of measured verse, lyrical poetry of the higher order generally presents in a concentrated form a graphic sketch or narrative, or an animated appeal to feeling. Of course, the character of the audience must bo always considered. Tho reader, however, may feel safe in reading any production of this kind, if it have tho ring of tho true metal iu it, bcibrc any audience* 214. Rule II. — Prcpamtory Arrangemenis. — In addition to : careful study, marking off important inflections and emphases and places for pausing, tlic reader should make his ei/e familiar with tho printed forms, and if there be any passage demanding an exhibi- tion of great j)assion or humorous gesticulation, he ought to commit tJiat part, at least, to memory. If ho reads i'rom a book the book should never be held in tho hand, but should always lie on a desk, with a good light filling on it, so that he can see at a glance every word. The clevatioti should be up to the chest, so that he can see the book without bending, and bo seen by his audience. 245. Rule III. — Before commencing^ bo calm, be deliberate. " feike it easy." Let the body bo erect, the chest open, and the lungs filled. A brief explanation of the character of the selection, will not only secure tho attention of the audience, but give the reader some idea of the demands of the room for vocal effort and his capacity to bo heard. Always begin below or about tho middle pitch of voice, speak slowly, and if the voice does not seem to fill the room, increase its /orce but do not elevate the pitch. 246. Rule IV. — Especially avoid looking down at the book. Glance at it swiftly, gather in a group of words, and be ready almost before the complete utterance of that group to fcike in another. The eye has a mighty power over tho audience, and if it be fixed, as it too often is, especially in pulpit reading, with almost jLtiteuectuat MocuUon, 103 ttobrokon uniformity on tho book, tlio mi<:;ht of that power and the ooium inJiii^ cxj)rcssioii of tho fico that holc» at the audience^ are lost. Every public rcadiT should uc(iuiro this* power. If tho rcadh)'^ bo .aarrative or didactic iu which the reader ou-ht to address tho audience, ho uiu.'-t look at tho audience, moving his eye about, liowevcr, to every p.irt of the room. If ho has to apo.^tropliizo nature, the heaven.s, or to addrc^a (jod, then lio may witli meat effect frequently look upwards, or as it were beyond the bounds of the room. 247. Rule V. — When tho scene is a drnmntio one, tho reader must determine beforehand tho ponition of each character, and then abide by the arrangement, turning his head but not his body, unless under tho impulse of pomo ntrongor feeling, from one fide to tho other, as he assumes each character. Under no circumst:incos when reading dialogues ought ho to address the audience. This is one of the marked characteristics of great actors, tragic or comic. Thn/ never speuk to the aud'uncc. If tlicy are alone on the stage they 8olilo(|uizo ; they speak as men do when alone, gazing on vacancy. If thoTo are other dramatic characters present they address them. Thus they sustain tho illusion, and, in carrying themselves uway from tho world around, they carry away their audiences. 248. Rule VI. — When the reading is a serious one, the render is not expected to mimic the voices of each person he represents. If, for exami)le, he is reading the Trial scene in tho Mi rchant of Venice he must not pitch his voice into falsetto to imitate the voice of Portia; that would have a ludicrous effect. The same rule applies to ladies when reading. The gentleman, however, when reading the lady's part must modulate his tones into greater goftnoss, and he may occasionally, especially when pathos, or wit, or humour predominates, give her language wider inflections ; and when the lady is reading the ggfitlcman's part, she must not assume a rough, masculine voice, but if necessary she may give greater Bternness and severity to its tones. In burlesque and buffoonery, of course, the reader may assume any pitch and tone ho or she pleases to add to the humour. But whatever tones be assumed ihe reader must bo master of th^m, so that he can control and* h I ' • ^U 104 Instruction in modulate them,an(', never allow tlicmto be in excess of tlie end in view. 249. Dramatic Scenes arc the best for practice, and, wbcn the rciidcr can thoroughly impcrsonitto each character, the bc>t for cntertiinln;^ an audience. Each character in such scenes must be thorou!i,lily understood, for the conception must bo iu harmony v;ith nature. The age, the sex, the character, and the ruling passion of tlic person represented, nnist be studied, and wo who read must make all these qualities, possessed by each character, our oiot ; not slmjjly reading their words with u more change of tone, but enter- ing Into his or her feelings, and moved ourselves as we can best eon- celve they would be moved in th(i same condition. The change of character must also be inst mtaneous, and the pauses brief, as the circumstances justify. Scenes where very opposite states of mind are impersonated are hence the best both for practice and effect ; tlioy are best for practice, because they diseiplino the reader in tliat power of self-control by which he can assume various passions and chpTacteristlcs ; th>y cultivate quickness of perception, and train the reader to madulato his voice with swiftness and just adap- tation to tiic necessities of the moment ; and this variety of tone and manner is itself one of the most delightful features of good reading. It is also of great advantage to the orator who would make his voice be the very echo of his passion and his thought. This no doubt was one of the qualities of that action to which Demos- thenes attached such importance. 250. Dramatic readings do not necessarily belong to theatrical literature. Lj'rical poetry and fiction abound in such scones ; and the patriarchal and historical narratives of the Scripture, and the parables of Christ and many of tlie incidents in Ills life, as, for example, the restoration of sight to the blind man in Jt)lin, or the trial and crucifixion of the Saviour in the same gospel, are all thoroughly dramatic. Sir Walter Scott's and Charles Dickens' "Works also abound in admirable dramatic scones. 251. Humorous Scenes arc always acceptable to an audionco. The reader must, however, exercise judgment and caution In his Belection. Whatever bo the humour of a piece, let him ever keep Intellectual Elocution. 105 in \icw the great end of sucli entertainments — tlie mentnl and moral elevation of the people ; a.s lie nj;iy bo assured that wlhitever by its tone, its KUgge-stion^, or its (''ccl.ircd expr*.'S.>^Ion?, brings virtue or religion or trutli into ridicule, whatever makes virtuous inno- cence ashamed, will dcLrrado and injure the reader as niucli as the audience. A just rendering of humour requires as earnest study as that of tragedy. All humour tends to exaggeration } and when reading it, the laughter and apjilause of the audience encourage excess and buffoonery iu the reader and actor. Let the re.;der therefore be true to nature, bo especially careful that tlie audience eliall not laugh at him rather tlian the cccontrieities of the charaeLcr or the thought he is reuder'ng. He must never laugh because the audience laui^hs. He must ignore the audience and he the character, as if he were quite unconscious of doing or saying anything humorous or ridiculous; and yet he must have such self- control that, the moment ho has said or done the humorous thing, he is himself again, and master of his audience. 252. Fbudly. Let all who aspire to excellence in delivery ovoid indulging too much in humorous rcadinirs. The success of such readings depends on mimicry, and the mimicry is a copying of defects both of character and of gpeeeh. The defects first assumed for lucre imitation may become settled habits and the high purposes of a pure elocution frustrated. "Few mimics," siys Dr. Ptush, " arc able to rise to the character of dignified utterance ; and when they even seriously imitate accomplished speakers, it is always in their accidental defects; for these give the amusing characteristics. * * * As mimicry in speech must necessarily, from the vast amount of worldly falsehood and bad taste, be more frequently employed on \'ulgarity and exaggeration than on trutli and refine- ment, its constant tendency must be to error and degrad.;tion. * 'K =;< It is well to keep the tongue away from the contamina- ting company of its own unconscious faults. For it is with our voices as with our morals ; the habit of doing only right most effectually preserves us from wrong; and it is no less dangerous to play with mischief in the one, than to amuse ourselves with mockery in the other." I r;':i i: i'L 106 Instruction in METHOD FOE STUDYING A PART FOR READINCJ. ' 253. The object of this lesson is suirgestion. To study n pnrt for rcatling is not to commit it to memory, but to underst.nid its purport, tlic meaning of every word and the force and intent and purpose of every word, to decide what inflection, what puu.-o, what empluisis every word must receive, and altogether to consider what passions arc to be expressed and how they shall be expressed. With this end in view, the speech of Murk Antoni/ over the body of Cdiiir has been selected for analysis. It is in every re.pcct a model both for the rhetorician, the elocutionist, and the public speaker. It is recorded of Curran that he was frequently in the habit of reciting it before a glass, and that he often asserted that his success as an orator was due to this practice. " Fneuds, Romans, Colntuymen." The nominative of address requires the rising inflection when there is simpiy au appeal. But in the above instance the invoca- tion bears in each word a decision of manner approaching to an assertion of a right f-o bo heard and of the rdationsliip existing between the orator, a patrician, and the assembly he addresses, the common people. While, therefore, these words are uttered in a tone of assumed courtesy and respect for the crowd the patrician despises, there is the decision of command exi)ressed by the fiilling inflection, as if Antony, anticipating and combating the prejudices excited by the acts and speeches of the conspirators against his "order," would remind them that they were "friends;" that, all sharing in the common glory of the immortal name, they Avere " Romans ;" and that, bound together by those patriotic tics which no " class" prejudices could ever sunder, they were " countrymen." No doubt the tones of the orator would swell with fervour as ani- mated by the greatness of the occasion, the pride of the patrician would sink in the sentiment of the man. " Lend me your ears :" — Uttered with soft and courteous modulation, was a mnster- Btroke of policy, coming from one whose rank would justify him in commanding attention, but who, thus admitting the sovereignty of the people, won, by this flattering homage to their power, their Intellectual Elocution, 107 ig obsequious regard. Hence, to give force to his aflfccted humility, he would place strong emphasis on " Lend," " The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : ' If \i icere so \i VI a.s A grievous f (hilt; And GBisvousLY hath Caesar answered it," while " were" is uttered in a tone of doubt, the succeeding line is concluf-Ive, solemn and tender, as indicating that whatever crime Cocsar had committed from ambition, he had paid the terrible pen- alty, he had " answered " it. "Here under have of Brutus and the rest— For Brutua ia an honourable man So are they all — all honourable men," etc. This reference to Brutus and the rest is made in a tone of studied respect, and the added compliment to their honourable character is intended to remove all suspicion of animosity on his part, and must Lave noiic of the circumflex, inflection expressive of the sneer which bad readers throw into it. It is too early for that. The people have to be won yet. But there lies Caesar; he has paid the penalty of his ambition ; let us now m sorrow recount his virtues. " Ho hath brought many captives — home — to Rome "Whoso ransoms— did— the general — coffers — fill." He has been accused of ambition ; but it was not shown by the vulgar thirst for riches. The splendid ransoms won from his splen- did victor' s went not to his own but to the gmerdl coficrs, the public treasury. Hence the force and emphasis of " general," in contraf^t with its implied antithesis " private." " Did Tm's— in Caesar — seem amhiilous ?" ending with the rising inflection, and emphasis on this ; being psked, in a tone of enquiry, but with a feeling of triumphant assurance that the best evidence had now been given of his liberality. Again, Ambition, wrapped up in its own hard and selfish pur- poses, has in its nature no tender sentiments of humanity j but • - (( wijen that the jjoor have cried, Cxmr hath wiPi." fc K ? ''?* •"■. I^I^KV i ii:M^" 108 Instruction in llencc, " poor," as those furthest from the consideration of cold ambition, will receive due cmph.isis, with a touch of tremor in the voice ; and a similar tremor will be thrown into " Caesar hath wept," tlio voice dwelling on *' wept" as well ns it can, as expressive of {sympathy with his sympathy. Then, wlien the hearts of the mulLitudc have beeiif^cntly touched by the tender remeiiibrnnec of Lis generous nature, the inference that follows is flung forth with exultant tones, in behalf of the friend who uow lies dead at their feet — " Ambition— should be made of sterner stuff." A circumflex inflection on "ambition," with a pause after it, will give expressive force to the doubt. Finally, Antony refutes the calumny of ambition in its most dangerous aspect, the desire for Bovereignty. " You nil did sec that on the Lupcrcal I thrice — presented Lira a kingly crowh— Which ho did — thriee — kbfuse." The voice of the orator would swell on " kingly crown" to magnify the splendor of the gift. This refusal of the golden idol of the highest ambition, when it was in the reach of Caosar, is so clear a proof of his innocence, that Antony does not ask the question that follows in the appealing tone, as if with doubt. It is with him now, as it is with the people, a settled question, satisfactory and irre- futable. Therefore he asks "Was Tma— ambition ?" with that emphatic filling inflection which removes all opposition. Let tlie student of rhetoric observe that, having thus completely disposed of the question of Caesar's ambition, Antony no more refers to it. Ho iias other business now on hand. He h is con- quered at the very on' 'lo strongest prejudice against Ca;sar and bimself, " that he w jibitious." Ho may now begin to throw that expression of doubt into his voice, which prepares the minds of his hearers for the yot concealed scorn and hatred he has fbr the conspirators. Thus jn the " sure" of the following line there will be given that circumflex inflection inspired by suppressed Intellectual Elocution* 109 contempt for the whole band of assrussins, " And sure — ho is an hoiiOHr■>; If'.,':. *'• ^ i ii ■•>■■ mi 112 Imtrujtion in " ^M, what ft /ii/ wiH TUFRH— ray co':r. TLoti /"— 1111(1 Tou — and ALFj of u3 fol) il(jwn, Whilst ULOOUV T'lBASOM — FLOURianKD OVCF 113." Thcro is now :i mounuitiry chock to piission ; tlio voice assumes an ntr;(;tLMl Jidiiiir itioii of tboir i^iuf when thoy weep ; but it is but !i skilful prep;ir:itloa for the final burst, the very climax of p:i«sion. What ! weep you when you but behold Our Cicsiir'd vhsturu wounded ? ^ Look you — horo^ IL-re—i.^i—uiiisuLF— MARRED as you see, by inAiTona t " Ve-turc" will be emphasized as contrasted with " himself." Sonio i'orcc must bo thrown on here to command attention, then on "himsi'lf," the voice rises into hi;j,h pitch and emphasis; "m.irred" is uttured with aspirated Ibrco, expressive uf wrath, and "traitors" with a final burst of uncontrolled hatred which accom- plishes all the orator desired. The multitude is now wild with pjission, and Antony affects the utmost de(^ire to subdue their rage. IJut he, too, now is deeply moved as the crowd, "Good friends, svect friends, let me not stir you up, To such a Buddon flood — oi mutiny ; They — tliiit have done this deed— arc honourable. What iiriiuitr.—gvwU they have, alas I I know not, That :nade tlicm do it — They are u-ise and honourable^ And will — no doubt, with heasons answer you." Irrepressible scorn if breathed into " honourable," well expressed by th« downward circumflex. Force is given to "private," to indi- cate it was not patriotic motives that governed the assassins; and "wise" and " honotirablo" again express liis scorn for their charac- ter ami their actions, by tlic circumflex downward inflections, while the rising circumflex expresses at once the irony and doubt conveyed in "reasons." Antony's affectation of bkintness and inferiority to lirutus, as an orator, will be delivered in a reck- less, ofl'-handed manner. Bat the passion rekindles again in tho next line, assumes but it J clima:s P0H3 ! liiinself." ion, then inpluisis; iMtli, and !h ticcom- low wild fdue tlieir Rxpre?sed i" to indi- ums; and Ir charac- |)ns, while id doubt Inch's and a reck- iiiu in the Intellectual Elocution, 113 " For /—Lave neither wit, nor words, nor worth, ActiuD, nor utterance — oor tb« power of tpeech To stir men's blood," 4c. lu the next line pathos and tenderness will govern the delivery: " Show yon sweet Cmsai't wounds— poor, poob dumb mouths. And bid tubm— speak— for me." The closing of the speech demands the highest strain of passion in the delivery, and the voice reaches its greatest foicu on *' stones," as expressing how even thei/ would be moved by such an orator as Brutus, with such a cause as that of Antony's, But were I Bncxus and Brutus Antony — There were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirilj—tiud put a tongue In everi/ — u-ound — of Csesar that should move The STONES of Rome — to rise and mutiny. THE EL0CUTI02T OF THE PULPIT. 254. It is difficult to say what, in good elocution, is not suitable to the ministnttions of reli<:ion. They comprehend in their demands whatever is gr^xic^, and solemn, and sublime, in tragedy or poetry, and whatever is tender and p:ithetic in fiction. The " foolish- ness of preaching" is the instrument of power for the ccnversion of men to holiness, and the moral progress of the world, and as it is a human agency, pervaded j.nd elovnted by divine inSaences, the human agency will be, with hi'i^her influence?, more cuoctlve as it possesses all the qualifications that make oratory succe.-sful. However lofty the theme and earnest the spirit, it i;.' the man v,ho h the agent. Hence, as learning and theology are nece5=]ary to fit the mlud for the work of proiching, finished elocution 'm just OS necessary to fit tlie prer.eher for the effective deliv-ory cf his thougiits. But, b^'sides all tliis, a very important deo.'i'tmcnt of clericil duties is that of redding. The clergyman niu;-t rend the sorvic. 3 of lii'. church, whether tlicy be a liturgy, or i\i2 S-cred Scriptures, or liymns ; and, if liis sermons be written, their delivery is just as much a department of elocutionary art as the readin^^ of ! 114 Instruction in any other subject. "Written sermons arc not necessarily more tedious and dry because thoy arc written, but because, when written, the author *• reads" them without skill or passion. Not only have some of the finest productiond of pulpit oratory boon written, and arc wanting in none of blic qualities of the hij^hest eloquence — abrupt, startling, passionate, stirring men to the depths of their souls, as powerfully as the best unwritten sermons ; but the creations of dramatic genius which, delivered by the gifted actor or reader, have so often in the theatre or lyceum moved the hearts of myriads with awe and terror, and melted them into tears, these too have been written, and, though heard so often through many generations, never lose their power, 255. But, while all this is generally admitted, it is the inexcus- able reproach that the art of delivery is shamefully neglected in tho education of clergymen, and that, while the successful actor or public reader makes fiction real by laborious study for eifcctive delivery, the clergyman, who is to make delivery tho agent for enforcing divine truths, rarely attaches much importance to it, or studies how he shall render tho services, the Scripkircs, the hymns of his church, as the actor studies his "parts," and too often he mars the eflFect of the most solemn and beautiful language by its , bad delivery. 256. There is, however, some evidence of reform in this direc- tion. The frequent and just censure of the press, and the dis- satisfaction which is growing among tho educated members of every congregation ; the pressure from without, arising very largely from the prevalence of public readings, which are not only educating . the popular mind in habits of good reading, but ^liich are ' bringing into unfevourable comparison the delivery of tho pulpit ; — all these influences are combining to urge on the minds of clergy- men the necessity for improvement in elocution. In a lecture delivered by Dr. McNcile, Dean of Ripon, and quoted by Professor Plumptre in his preface, the following forcible view of the subject is given : " No one who has given even a passing attention to the habits and feelings of our people can doubt of the immense effect of ft Intellectual Elocution, 116 rca(3y and natural elocution : yet how little attention is paid to a right training for its acrjuiremcnt ! Looking ut the ministrations of the church practically, and in detail ; following them from the pulpit to the school-room, from the catechetical lecture to tho chamber of sickness, from the instruction and consolation of tho dying poor to the kind but dignified reproof of tho careless and frequently half-intoxicated bystanders, from the abode of squalid misery to the parlour of worldly-minded avarice, fortified by incipient, perhaps confirmed, scepticism; from all these to the plat- form for the propagation of Christian knowledge, or the exposure of anti-Christian error, in whatever department of his labours you contemplate the minister of tke church, it would he difficult to estimate the advantage that might, under the divine blessing, be derived from elocution classes in our Universitiec, where, under competent professors, our young men might be trained in recitation, both of selections from standard authors and of their own compositions on set subjects. * * * Instead of superseding any part of the present process, this might be added to it all, and if candidates for Orders were thereby delayed a year there would be more than compensation for the delay in the increased competency for the work." 257. It is gratifying to know that professors and lecturers on elocution are now frequently attached to theological colleges. In the absence, however, of such personal instruction, the student may do much by self application ; whatever be tho demands on him in the pulpit, he will derive the very highest advantage in studying the course of instruction prepared in this work, N-Dcal and intellectual. The suggestions for public reading are also equally applicable to the pulpit. There is, in fact, no practice more important to the clergyman than that of reading poetical and dramatic selections, as great actors and professional readers render them, to get him out of the pulpit tones, the whining, solemn, canting monotone, without expression, without power, without taste, which brings the holy ministrations of God's truth into ridicule, and mars the sublime language of the Bible, and the sacred lyrics. The theological student may, from conscientious scruples, never hear the great actor, but he may have many i W' » •' iAt 116 Instrutiion in opportunities of hearing high pulpit elocution and, with a knowledge of the science of clooution^ he may find many ways of advancing in the art. The defects of pulpit reading are not peculiar to clergymen, they mark the reading of laymen just as much as clergymen, when laymen read the Bible, hymns, or, in fact, anything th^t seems to come into the special province of the pulpit. A laymun, even a clergyman, who is the servant of habit, will rart'ly read a parliamenUtrj' speech or a secular narrative with the same peculiar intonations of voice with which ho reads the Bible, prayer or hymns. In Bible reading, with monotonous solcn^nity of tone, wanting in earnestness and expressive inflection, there is another tone, which has been aptly termed " a whining tone," and which too often receives the name of a " canting tone." One of its marked peculiarities is, that the reader, when ho comes to the end of a passage, instead of giving a manly decided falling inflection, invariably finishes with a rising inflection uttered in a sort of jerking voice. The remedy for all this, and all other pulpit peculiariti*.?, Ues in the application of correct principles to sacred reading oi every kind. The narratives of the Bible must be read in precisely the same manner as the narratives of secular history and fiction, and whatever is dramatic in its pages must be read as we read the tragedies of Sliakspeare or the serious fictions of Scott or Dickens. Let the student select and read some lofty scene from Shakspeare, then let him select another lofty dramatic passage from tlio Bible and real it in the same waif. Let him again read Bomc pccvJar historical passage or some pathetic fiction, and then eimiliir luGtoric;;! papsa^rcs, and narratives or parr.bles in the Bible. These exevciscrj atiII help to correct the so-c;illcd pulpit tones, and lead to tliope hubits of delivery which distinguish tlic best elocu- tion. It is almost unnecessary to add, that a certain solemnity and dignity must always attend sacred readings, but, whatover their ch:iracter, there is no reason to justify a delivery more monotonous, le^s expressive, or more careless than that used in re;idlng the hijicst order of poetry and fiction. It may bo im; nitant to add thnt^iiii.vuc. reading of the Biblo cr of hymn.] or a church service, wp «o^«o/i ^l>{^v^d oe mfd., , ^X^\o qjq may move, Intellectual Elocution* 117 with a y ways of ergymcn, erjryincn, line; thut L layman, ly read a i peculiar prayer or of tone, s another id which no of its the end nflection, a sort of r pulpit to sacred )t be read ir history »c read ag 3 of Scotfc 3euc from 3 passage gain read and then he Bible, ones, and est elocu- solcmnity ■wluitover cry more i used in ; ia:y bo hymii.j or lay move, the face may express tlie solemnity and grandeur of the scntimcnta read, but the arms, according to general usage, are kept still ; and ngai ) Kt the reader remember that ho should take into his mind and his eye, at ii glance, groups of words, nnd then looI:ing at his congregation, and not wit'^ eyes imuovably C.icu on the book, deliver his words m if \iQ were s^ienkir,y U them and not reading. 25!). The reading of h^'rans, again, ia a pulpit peculiarity, full of defects, and utterly de;;tructivo of the force and beauty of the poetry. As every verse haa its word or words of forco and importance, the words in their sense and connection must have their proper cmjthasis, inflection and pause. 2G0. The general and common faults of hymn reading are, (1) that the prosodial accentuation is marked so strongly as togivo the delivery all the sing-song accents of school-boy recitations ; (2) that every verse is read in precisely the same tones and with the same inflection, without any regard to meaning, pause or cxprecsion. Some will end everi/ line with a rising inflection, some, as ia stanzas of four lines, every second line with the same inflection. Others, again, will invariably drop the voice in both senses, that is, give a falling inflection, with a descent in pitch of two or three notes on the last syllable of each second line, and invariably, without reference to sense or connection, give a rising inflection to the last syllable of the Jlrst and third line. In such reading there will also be often an extraordinary upward leap on the antepenulti- mate syllable of the third line. (3) The reading will have no pauses excepting at the end of the lines ; and (4) through all these runs the canting, whining tone so often held up to ridicule ; (5) to all this add the slovenly articulation, and the final sound of the last word or syllable being so low as to be inaudible. It would be a useful exercise to listen to hymn deliveries and observe which of these defects prevail. 261. The Remedies. — To avoid undue accentuation let the reader mark off for practice verses in bars as directed in the lesson on " Time in Poetry," and group the words as in the lesson on grammatical groupings let him arrange the pauses logically and grammatically, and where there is a tendency to emphasize unimpor- ! > I>. "■ "i%' I ■ . » ■» 118 Instruction in \:m tant words, a distinct pause before eacli word will destroy that tendency j then let him determine the emphatic words and their inflection, according to principles explained in the lesson on inflections. In addition to these modes of correction, the reader who is in bondage to this sing-song delivery, and who finds it hard to break loose from prosodial accentuation and whining tones, would find an advantage in reading the hymn exactly as if it were prose ; and, when there is a strong tendency to throw sing-song accent on the second word or syllable, a slight pause after the Jirst will arrest that tendency. Practice in reading blank verse will also be of great service, as, while it is metrical, it is free from the associations which make hymn reading a bad habit. 262. Mr. Russell, an eminent American elocutionist, gives the following rule : " Keep the voice up at the end of the second line, unless emphasis or independent sense or abrupt style authorizes or requires a downward slide, and let the voice take a, lower pitch at the beginning of the third line." 2G3. The reader should sturfi/ for reading whatever he has read, to read publicly, and he would find great benefit from marking for inflection, pauses, and emphases, the hymns ho has to read, until he can dispense with such helps. The following selection will be Buggestive of the method proposed ; the pauses are marked by a dash, the emphasized words are in Italics, and inflections with (' ^) grave and acute accent marks indicate the rise and fall.. J?ear Refuse of my teeart/ soul' On Thee — when sorrows rise- On TTiee — when waves of trouble — roll— My — faantiug hope — relies. To Thse — I tell— each rising grief— For — Thou — AiiONE canst heal — 1^1/ word — can bring — a sweet relt^ ' ^ For EVERY i>ai7i — \feel. But, oh I when gloomy doubts — prevail— T l/ear— to call Thee mine— Intellectual Elocution, 119 The springs of cor^ort— seem to/ati *. . And all—vaj hopes — decline. tdower Fiteh, — Yai— Gracious G'o'j— whsre— shall J^e— Thou—a.Tt my onljf trust — And — still — my soul— would cleayo to Thee, Though prostrate — in the dust. Tby mercy seat — is open — still ;— T^ere — let my soul retreat ; — With humble Aope— attend— Thy — will— And wait — beneath Thy fkbt. 264. The distinguishing feeling in reading any religious com- position should undoubtedly be that of reverence. Whatever be the subject, it must have associated with it the sentiments of God and immortality. Dramatic reading, in the sense of merely representing human life as the actor represents it on the stage, often marked by exaggeration, must of course be carefully avoided. Excessive exhibitions of human passions would be utterly opposed to the purposes of all sacred services. But dramatic delivery, as illustrating diflfcrent persons speaking and acting in human life, for the higher purpose, not of entertainment, but instruction and exhortation, when pervaded by a spirit of reverence, is natural and appropriate, and cannot fail to awaken a deeper interest in the hearer, and exercise a deeper and more lasting influence than when delivered in the sini2;-son2r monotonous and whininyr tones that too or) o often distinguish pulpit delivery now. The pulpit orator and reader must train his voice, by the methods explained in this work, to pauses and to flexibility, that he may give truthful and dramatic expression to all he utters, whether his own sentiments or those of Holy Writ. His voice is the instrument of expression ; and its proper cultivation will not only prolong his health and usefulness, but it will make him master of an organ by which he can infuse into every tone a sound of power, of feeling, of grandeur and pathos, and of rebuke and effective exliortation. 2G5. Special study may be useful and necessary to an effective delivery of the English Church service; but as that service is I ■J >■?■ ti ■?■. ■ .1 , , 1 'V 120 Instruction in founded upon the Scriptures and largely derived from tLcm, the practice recommended for general pulpit reading and for the read- ing of all solemn subjects and of hymns, cannot fail to give to the delivery of the beautiful and impressive liturgy of the Episcopalian Church all the expression of just elocution. The method of study recommended for public reading, and illustrated by the analysis of Mark Antony's speech, will be found equally applicable to pulpit readings, and tlio analysis of the following parable will bo found suggestive for this end : 2GG. Parable op the Prodigal Son. — Luke^ch^xv^ v. 11 to 32. 11th V. And he said, A certain man— had two sons : * This is simply narrative and the sense being complete on " sons " that word will take the falling inflection, while " two " being a distinguishing word will take the accented emphasis of sense. 12th V. And the younger— of them — said— to his father, — Father— give me — the portion of goods — tlmt/alleth to me. In narrative composition, when dialogue is introduced, the words of each speaker must be uttered with more force and greater compass of inflection than the narrative clauses, and accompanied also with a change of pitch. In the above instance the pitch is elevated above the narrative. An emphasis with fill- ing inflection must be given to " younger," as thus indicating that the elder son did not ask for his portion, and a similar emphasis is placed on "falleth," thus intimating that ho asks for no more than that which by law and custom would ultimately be his own. 13th V. And — not many dayg after — the younger son — gathered all together — and took his journey into a far country — and there wasted his substance — with riotous living. The first two clauses are so connected that, on the principle for arranging series of sentences, the rising inflection may be placed on " together," and the falling on " country " as completing that Statement. The remaining clause will then stand distinct and should be read with a deeper modulation and with greater Intellectual Elocution. 121 >> for accd that and ^ater Bolemnity, expressive of the life of sin into which, after leaving his father's house, he had passed. "Wasted" and " riotous " must receive force and STeil of voice, as expressive of the nature of his career, while cue force will be given to "living" as the completion of the pictuie. 14(»h V. And wbea hi had spent all — there arose a mighty s-amihk in tha* land ; and he be^an to be in Mant. Accentual emphasis will be placed on " all " as evidence of his profligate career and a rising iailection to show the dependence of the clause as a subordinate sentence. " Mighty famine " are both important, but famine takes the emphasis of feeling witli the fulling inflection ; while " m that land," as being subordinate, will be read in a lower piich. iiowever unimportant the final clause and word may be, let the reader be careful to utter it with dis- tinctness. " Want " demands special emphasis, as indicating the consequences of his riotov.a living. 15th V. And he wtiit and joined himself— to a citizen of that country : atd ujB sent him into his fields — to feed awine. " Citizen " and " country " must receive arbitrary emphasis, as indicating his next step in life — his friendlessness too — a mere citizen and foreigner, not a friend or an Israelite, while the Bocond " he," standing for citizen, must receive special force and a circumflex inflection to distinguish it from the first " he " stand- ing for the prodigal. "Fields" must have emphasis expressive of his wretched condition — he was not taken into the house but Bent to the field to herd with swine, the unclean and abhorred animal of his faith. Kcnco "swine," as a finaland expressive statement of his lost condition, will receive force with a slight degree of tremor. 16th V. And he would/ain— have filled his belly with the lusks that the •irtne— did eat ; and no man c*vo onto him. " Husks " must have arbitrary emphasis to express his extreme degradation and want, while " swine " takes a slighter but a similar emphasis as completing the picture of his wretchedness, la the clause that follows, " no " h more important than " mao," i^ % I I 122 Instruction in t' ■I Jf; since only man could give to him, and hence "no" shows his utter desolation. It will add to the touching pathos of the narrative to swell the voice with a slight tremor on the oof " no." ITthv. And when he camo to himaeif ho said: How many hired ser- vants— o£ my father's— have bread «nou^A— and to spare — and J perish— with hunger I " Himself" will have a rising inflection, as being a dependent clause, but must have the emphasis of sense as indicating that in his riotous living he was not himself. " Hired servants," as expressive of the farthest extreme of the domestic relations, must have the emphasis of sense, whilst •" servants " will take arbitrary emphasis as antithetical to him, the son. "Enough" and to "spare" must receive prominence as expressive of their happy Btate contrasted with his. " I," being antithetical to servants, will take the rising inflection, but equal stress with servants; and after a pause, to give more force to "I" and to "perish," and "hunger" must be delivered in tones of deep pathos, tho voice trembling with memories of lost happiness and the sense of present degradation. 18th V. I will arise — and go to my father — and will Bay unto mm — Father— I have sinned — against Heavers, and before tJiee. " Father " on the first clause will take the emphasis of feeling uttered in a tone of aflectionato tremor, as indicating that he was the sure hope of the lost prodigal. The second " father " must be uttered in an earnest, appealing, trembling tone, and "siuucd," as a confession of guilt and that this had been the deepest suffering, deeper than hunger and poverty, will take the strongest emphasis uttered in a tone of passionate sorrow. " Heaven " and " thee " will also share in this expressive emphasis, but not with the same force as " sinned." 19th v. And am no more worthy to be called thy son : make me as one— of thy hired servants. Here "son" and "servants" are antithetical and will take ©pposite inflections, " son," being negative, taking the rising and " servants " the falling inflection, " Worthy " and " called " will Intellectual Elocution, 123 3W8 his of the II ' " no. dred ser- ' perish— ipcndent ; that in its," as ns, must irbitrary and to ir happy servants, servants ; ' perish," ithos, the the sense nto him— of feeling it he was must be liued," as suffering, emphasis 1 "thee" the same le as one- will take ising and led " wiU also have emphatic prominence. The delivery of the two verses must be slow, reverential, and tremulous with agitation. Such a delivery must be dramatic, but not necessarily theatrical. 20th V. This verso has nothing special in it; but as it its expressive of joy and affection the delivery will bo more rapid and excited than that of the last verses. 21st V. The same passion of delivery must be observed here as in the 18th and 19th verses, but as he is now in presence of his father, the voice will assume a deeper tone of reverence and humiliation. 22nd v., 23rd v. Hero the voice of the Father rises in exult- ing joy over the recovery of the beloved lost one, and the commands issued to the servants must be delivered in loud, rapid, and excited tones. 24th T, For thiiB/— mj son— was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and i^found. Although " dead " and "alive," " lost" and "found " are anti- thetical and by rule take opposite inflections, deeper impressiveness will be shown in giving a falling inflection with emphasis to all of these words, to " dead" as indicating a sense of utter loss, and equal force on " again" as on " alive," as expressive of a full resto- ration of love and joy. " Lost " and " found" may be read on the same principle. It will give all the necessary variety to the passage, secured generally by change of inflection, to read "dead "and "lost" in a lower and more mournful pitch than "alive" and " found." 25th V. Now his elder son -was in the field ; and as ho came— and drew nigh to th« house— he heard— miwic and dancing. " Elder " is here emphatic, as distinguished from younger. 26th V. And ho ealled one of the servants, aad asked, what these things meant. Force must bo given to " what " and " meant," as expressive of astonishment ; and if it be considered probable that he had some suspicion of tiie true cause, a downward circumflex iuflectioa wiil 124 Instruction in l^ I '!i^ ♦:■'-■/ liV A\. be tlie best to express an affected astonisbment and a sense -of annoyance and envy. 27th V. And he said unto him— Thy BR^TIIERis come, and thy/ather— hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath receired him lafc and sound. The servant, no doubt greatly excited, vould answer in excited tones, laying great emphasis on "brother," as being ample cause for such rejoicing; while "calf," aa indicating the character of the feast, will receive marked emphasis, especially as " kid" is sub- Bcquently contrasted with it. 29th v. And he— answering— said, — Lo, these many years, do /-servo thee ; neither trangressed I at any tune— thy commandment ; and yet thou never gavest me— a, kjd— that I might make merry with my friends. '< Much skill is required for tho just and natural delivery of this passage. Tho temper of the elder son must be conceived, and while the querulous tone of envious complaint is assumed, duo' filial respect must be observed ; the leading emphasis is given to "I" with a rising inflection; — importance must also be given to" "many years," as magnifying his claims and the injustice he sup-' pesos he suflFers, and a circumflex inflection with force to " any" will add to tho effect of the implied reproach. Again "me" is in the same condition as " I," and receives force ; while " kid," as antithe- tical to "calf," will bo uttered with strong emphasis, expressive of a sense of wrong. A circumflex inflection will give reproach to the expression. The last clause may be read in monotone as a subordinate completion of sense, but if in the judgment of the reader, the querulous tones should be preserved to the end ; the necessary erpression will be given to the passage by a circumflex inflection on " T " and a rising one on " friends." The reader must howevr i^nienjuer it is not a man, but Christ who speaks. He must .: 'k ''^)eii::; too dramatic. 30th V. Bit ft" Boon ««s f Aw— thy son waa-com©— which hatttfeoo«rei thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for htm—iho fattod ealf. " This" must be delivered in a tone of emphatic reproach ; " thy BOn" is simply explanatory and parenthetic and is uttered in a lower tone with rising inflection to connect it with the predicate. Intellectual Elocution, 125 If emphasis and a fallinnj inflection were given to " son " it would suggest that the complainant was not a son. "Devoured" and " harlots " must be uttered in aspirated scornful tones ; tlio syllable " har " allows full scope for the expression. " Calf" is also empha- sized as antithetical vijh " kid." 31st v., 32nd v. And b^ :r,id unto him, son, — thou art ever — -with mc, and all that I have ig thine. li %:t,s meet — that we should make merry and bo glad ; for this — thy brotUvf was dead, and \% alive again, and was ^t;*^ and is found. The tone of the father is one of dignity and of affectionate reproof, which silences contradiction ; while the amplitude of the advantages enjoyed by the elder son is expressed by laying force on "all" and " have" vita contrary inflections, and arising iriLlcction on " thine," as there is an implied reference to the prodig-.l. " Meet" is emphatic, as declaring the final judgment of the father, and, in the application of the parable to all men, of the Saviour. Its importance, therefore, must be marked by command and dignity of utterance, and with a similar expression the parable closes. if •1 PUBLIC SPEAKING. It is not in the province of a work on elocution to give instruc- tion in oratory, but in delivery. The materials for making an efiective speech are derived from the experiences of life, and from human history and the necessities of men. History, science, philosophy, poetry, supply the proper rcsourcos ibr that know- ledge which enables the orator to be an iu iU'uctoi' and i perrmider of his fellow-men; rnd the capacity to spaak woll b^roro men, although not a special gift of n:iture, can only be :.cqii'rcJ by eystcniatic training in the habits of mctlioJic.Jly arrr.nging cur thou^^its and clotliing them in forcible and appropii to 1 agu ige. It is the r:reat defect of our educational systjar:!, lii ,h anJ lew, L.J •' / i^i / that this culture docs not commence with c'^rly lifb. Oui' pupils arc taught granMnr.r, it is l.n..o, l;^j not t';3 Xizi'. cT ^■•rj.minar. English, in its largo, ccmpreacn&ive, and ratloaal socio ii not \\ i Mr W W g - _ i ^''*^H |l 126 ',♦ Instruction in I • '. taught in any t)f our public schools, as classics and mathematics are taught. In our grammar schools, while the classical and mathematical master must have university qualifications, the oflBce of the English master is the most subordinate in the system, and the standard of his qualifications is equally low. Even if occa- eionally an English professorship is attached to a college or a university, the honours and rewards awarded to proficiency in mathematics and classics are so much higher than those awarded to proficiency in classic English, that students have no motive to pursue a study which receives such poor encouragement. It is in i after life the loss is felt, when, in the arena of public conflict, at the bar or on the platform, the man with collegiate advantages cannot speak his own language with the fluency and force of many a mechanic or farmer ; and when the ready writer for the press wields a power for good or evil, beyond all measure more important and valuable and better remunerated than that of the merely scholarly man. It is encouraging, however, to know that facility in public speak- ing may bo acquired by all who assiduously pursue a course of self-culture in the use of their own language, whether in collcgiato discipline that study has been neglected, or whether they never have had any collegiate discipline. In evidence of the latter fact, it is only necessary to remind the student that some of the brightest orators of the age have acquired their power without any such pr&- vious training. Of these, Spurgeon is an example in the pulpit ; and amongst influential platform and senatorial orators the late Richard Cobden, and the most eloquent of living orators, John Bright, are sufficient proofs. M. Boutain, in his excellent work on extempore- speaking, enu- merates and defines the mental and acquired qualities necessary to the successful orator. The mental qualities are 1st, a lively sen- sibility ; 2nd, a penetrating intelligence j 3rd, a sound reason or good sense ; 4th, a prompt imagination j 5th, a firm and decisive will ; 6th, a natural necessity of expansion or of communicating to other ideas and feelings ; 7th, a certain instinct which urges a man to speak as a bird to sing. Intellectual Elocution, 127 icmatics ical and ho ofl5ce system, if occa- go or a icncy in awarded lotivc to It is in i flict, at vantages force of • for the re more t of the ic speak- lourse of lollegiate ey never ;r fact, it brightest 3uch pro- j pulpit; the late rs, John ing, enu- lecessary Lvcly sen- reason or [ decisive eating to 1 urges a The last two qualifications are really the foundation of all success. He only will succeed who desires success. lie only has the instinct for speaking who has the ardent wish for it. The first quality is the secret of success in every career of life. lie alono can deeply move others who is himself deeply moved. But the aspirant to oratorical power must learn that concentrated and continuous meditation on one subject begets a zeal and awakens a sensibility in the dullest mind. The second and third qualities aro doubtless the result of mental culture, and, while some men may possess them naturally, extensive and methodical study of human knowledge will infallibly insure them to all. The fourth quality is of great importance to the orator ; but the very fact that the orator whose imaginative faculty is strong, and whose fertility of conception meets with the warmest sympatliy from his audience, is a proof that they, too, who hear have imaginative faculties; in other words, imagination is a common faculty of human nature crushed, stifled, oppressed by the hard ways of life, but by proper culture capable of revival and growth. Nature in her silent forma of beauty, and poetry and fiction in their creations, offer sources and means by which that faculty may be elevated and strengthened ; hence the rudiments of the mental qualities are human and com- mon, varying in power but capable of improvement in all. The instinctive or natural gift of speaking is, no doubt, stronger in some than others. But by such methods as we shall briefly indicate it may be wonderfully improved. Every person, however, should bo master of the grammatical principles of his language, and, if he would ^ive force and elegance to his expression, a knowledij^c of the principles of rhetoric is indispensable. But failures in publio speaking are not, as is often supposedp the result of " a want of words " but of a want of thoughts. The unpractised speaker breaks down, either because he has not fortified and stored his mind with all necessary facts, arguments and idens ; or else, if ho has done this, the sight of an audience, the terrible ordeal of the silence of a multitude, drives everything out of his head. He fails because he is thinking more of his audience than his subject. This may happen to the profoundest thinker, but it may be over- come by the most timid speaker. Knowledge of the subject, well i H I I '<'.'. :^v,! <■'■• I* .! Ill 128 Instruction in amnG^ocI, then, is the first quality for speaking. The second quality is that of earnestness — soul-earnestness, heart-feel in;:;. If a man earnestly desire to move his fellow-raen, to convince them of somo truth which deeply moves him, and to exhort to acquiescence and action, ho will never fail in language while ho has thoughts and motives to ppeak. But facility in expressing thought may be made a habit, and Bhoulil by all means bo cultivated. Educated parents may culti- vate it in tlieir children at homo, and qualified teachers in their schools, by encouraging the young to express their thoughts orally iu correct lanjjuage. In the Prussian schools, where the f ithor language receives tlie best culture, teachers always exact full answers from their pupils; not a mere representative word, but a full definition of the subject, l^ut the young might be encouraged to describe in their own languales than to tike up too nnny, whieh, like a mere enuinrra- tioii of historical facts, arc destitute ofibrce becuusetoo contracted Dnd concise, ITT. Collect f icts, ar2;uinents and thou'.dits, both by meditation On the subject, and by read'.n:; and invcsti:;ition. Often during this inrpiiry, while the inind is pervaded by the subject, reflec- tions, lik'3 the beams of liilit from t'le aurora l)oreaHs, will fl ish from all points, su'r-jrcskHl by other thou'^hts and words, and all of which sh )uld, as fir as possible, bo cau;_dit and recorded for future consiacr.'.tlon and use. When these resources Inivc been well pre- pared, th^y must bo examined and arrau'ied. 15ut before this tho ctudent must refer to tlio course he has Int;'nded to adopt. IIo may then arrange his collected f.ict-i .ind tlioughts under their various npitropriato heads. In such an arrangement it is an important consideration which arguments and thouglits shall be brought forth first. If there be a probibility of opposition, it will bo the best policy to strike it down at oncT })y lining the most forcible argn- mcnts, and then introducing portion-; of l/'ss importance, leaving to the ])eroration the business of rekindling attention and interest. If, however, the speaker i,- likely to meet with a fivourable hear- ing, he may, aftc>ran introduction of the general subject, comm(^nco with portions of lesser importance and then advance to the higher ones, until he prepares his audience for receiving his final appeal. IV. The plan being adopted, the speech should then l)e arranged under distinct heads, each head with its details and offsets of thought attached, all correlative thoughts being associated, and ouG naturally suggestive and growing out of the other. V. When the whole outline, and that a, pretty full one, «>f the speech has been thus prepared, it m:iy then be reduced in form ; the minor arguments and f icts, which the principal ones would be sure to suggest, being removed, and the whole subject reduced to a mere skeleton. The student, to make the details familiar, should w i;,;"j .«! 10O Instruction in glancG at any of tlio heads find endeavour to recall tlio divcr'xont branches of it. Then ho should put it all Msido, and asccvtiin if he can reproduce the general arrangcmeritrrom memory. Lot him not bo disconcerted if minor party bo omitted ; the ,u;reat object in view is to grasp the Vr'holo conception of his work in his mind, 'R'ithout committing loonh to memory, and even -without notes. VI. Finn.lly, let him cut it all down to threo or four leading heads, sucli, of cour.-.o, as are the sources of all minor dctcals. Many eminent orators })reparo el.iborate introductions and perorations and even important pa.ssages for the body of the speech. But tiio speaker must carefully avoid all appearance and fjrni of study and thought, as Lord Brougham recommended. ILibits of com])ositIon should never be neglected ; the form and thoughts of a .speech being prepared, iti Imguige, if we desire success as extern" porancous speakers, sliould bo left to the time of delivery. Now all this el iborato preparation may appear too studied, and it really is for the contests of comnwn li Co. But the oliject in viev? is to prepare for the office of the orator ; and although it would bo impoH.sililo and is not necessary that a man should make this preparation for every civic, political or club speech, yet .-ill vvdio aspire to move the misses by oratory must submit to tliis training; and as those vrho can so move them are always cqu d for lesser occasions, so the student, the member of a debating society, or any one who desires to speak well, should commence with this kind of disci[>line, and on all set and important occasions resort to it. No doubt, in mere business debates, men fimiliar with the sabjcct will acquire ficility in speaking, without any preparation, wit'i effect. But tlici/ am never ascend hlQiier. Their active minds and fluent tongues can grapple small all'airs; but wiien the business is tomovo a multitude or ;i na.tion they must give way to stronger men • while, a.s a rule, those stronger men who have had the smaller prac- tice ;;lso, are still the masters of the men who are clover at smart ready business speeches. While habits of lit<3rary composition should be su'^taincd, tho forms of literary composition arc not the best for public speaking. Long formal sentences wcniy an audience. The argumentation should bo clear and transparent, and the sentences concise, short Intelleatual EloGution. 133 and compact. A mixed auuieuce likes tliat speech wLicli demands no great effort of understand. ng to comprolicud it. The popnlar EpcocLi must, tlicveforc, be animated and exciting, rather than i)ra. found ; and when the Sj.caker observes signs of weariness in Ids audience, marked by the restless eye and the gaping mouth, ha sbould change his m-jthod, cnHveu his speech by an anecdote, a witticism, or an ap^xi^il tct passion. This, skilfully done, never fails to rc-awakcn attention, and it i« one of tlie powerful advantages which unwritten speeches, and whut are CiiUed extemporaneous speakers, can always command, and which tiiey who writ'3 their speeches and commit them to memory are denied. Open air speeches are amongst tko most effective moans of addressing the people; but unless given under the control of elocutionary principles, they ?.rc very exhaustive, and often unsuo- ccssful, because of the violation of those principles. The common riistake is to believe that there must be unusual muscular effort, und th'it the voice must be pitched in a very high key. Now the best effect may be produced, and all the injurious consequences of over-exertion avoided, by carefully observing the rules in this work for the physical culture of the voice. The speaker must stand erect, with his throat free from compression. He must take in ample breath, and renew it at every pause long before the lungs are emptied, iulialing through the nose. His voice must issue from the back of tlie mouth, and the mouth be opened wider than usual. The capacity to be heard must not depend on pitch or bawling, but on chest force, and especially on the full utterance of the vowels, the sonnds of which in all important word;i should be full ;md prolonged, wliilc the consonants should bo distinctly articulated, with that finished action which succeeds position. The delivery, too, should be slower than in a public hall. Heading aloud in a largo room, and, when practicable, in the open air v.Jiilc walking, is an excellent exercise for the end in view. Hence also the value of reading before large audiences in the public entertainments which have become so general. There the reader must possess a good delivery, and learn to manage bis voice to all the tones of passion and thought, so as to be heard by his audience, and to interest them. These are excellent school^ 'li, IM Instruction in m for oratoiy, and besides improving the student in clocutioa, tlicy j^ivc him coulidcuco uud stveugthcu liubitd of sull-coutrul whea addrus.siug a multitude. The method adopted by some speakers of writing their fipccchea out and committing ihem to memory for delivery, i.s the most objtetionable form of oratory. It never will (qualify the speaker for CKtijmporaneoas speech. It gives Lim no preparation lor debate and swift and apt rejjly to an op|X)ueut. If he meet with iutoirup- tion or opposition during delivery, Le dare not fling out a prompt and appropriate reply or u cutting retort; for he m^y lose the thread of hii di.scourrfo, and then he is lost. Besides all this, written compositions hare too much the stylo of an essay. They want the abruptness, poiutedncss, fire, and rciUity inspired always in the mind of the practidod speaker by the presence of living men whom he addresses. Even sermons, when there is no fear of interruption, are rarely so eiOfective and impressive when delivered in laemoritcr stylo, as when spoken from notes or extempore. ^Vheu the sjxiaker or preacher, however, fails utterly in conquering the difficulty of extempore delivery, it is better in every respect for him to read his production than to deliver it in mcmoriter system. But let him read it as a profes,?ional reader renders a dramatic scene or a poem ; let him thoroughly study his own composition, having written it as legible as print; let him mark off the pauses, the emphatic words, and oven, if important, the inflections. Then let him read it aloud to himself, keeping his eye on an imaginary audience, just glancing at his manuscript; and talking into his eye and his mind a group of words, and assume as much as possible the style and action of extempore delivery. This method would not be as laborious as committing a production to memory; it would have, as it has with the professional reader, all the semblance and reality of an unwritten composition ; the speaker would be free from the terror of forgetting his part; and, if interruption occurred, or the speaker, inspired by some new pha^ of thought flashing across his mhid, desired to leave his pnpcr for a moment, he could do this and return to his written composition, without the dread of losing the thread of tho discourse. Hence, under every circumstance the Intellectual Elocution. 185 practice of elocution, the art of reading well, is of the first impor- taucc to the clergyman, to the lecturer, or the public speaker. It irj nut our purpose to give instruction on the method of arranging the parts of a .speech. This ought to be taught in every Euglifih departuient of a good school, with grammar and comp ':• liis voice. The most, easy and healthful attitude he can assume will not only assist him in doing this, but contribute to the dignity and gracefulness of his appearance. There must, however, be the utmost avoidance of stiffness and iife- lessne.-s in his appearance. The body must be naturally erect, the head upright, resting easily in its position ; the shoulders should be thrown a little back, so that the chest may be expanded and have full play, while the arms lie naturally at the side J 13G Instruction in •I.' -I •".«■■ I m ■ M. IIo must not BtunJ on bcut knees, but the liii»]);3 must gi\'o evidcuco of power to support the body. Cue footuud limb should bo firmly fixed us the chiel' bupport, the pivot on which the wholo person resti ; while the otlier lout tiud limb should be directed a little outward from the sicle, feo thut if necessary the speaker may turn himseit to cither side, or throw himself backward or forward as the case may require. The ridit foot generally i;5 placed in advance of t'ae lel't, the distance between the feet being abuut one f»ot. The defects of attitude are to koe[< tlio feet cIosD together, to turn them in t:traight lines and parallel to each other to the audi'.nco, to b'^nd the knees and rest upon them, to holdtho head too stiff and too erect, or to bury it in the shoulders, or to bend the whole body too much forward. The attitude recommended for the comfort of the speaker and the relief of the audience may occiir sionally be varied; the left foot may take tlie jiositioa of the right cue, and may rest sometimes on one side and sometimes on the other j but the norm^d attitude must never be forgotten, and when the speaker for any purpr.so changes to other positions, lie must again return to the first and normal attitude. Often, in earnest appe ds or the cx^essiou of great passion, the speaker will fling himself for- ward or lean more to one side or the other; still, his safeguard is always to return to that first position. Stillness and repose here again must be the rule ; all tossing of the body round about, shrugLiing of the shoulders, stamping of the I'ect, cr .■-ing of the limbs, rising on the toes, or extreme rigiducss of person b^ing equally avoided. The chief difficulty, however, lies in the management of the arms and the hand. The natural tendency of all nicji is ta make tlie arm move in unison with th« feeling, and often, wdion ilie voice iails in iti expressive power, the del'ectivo reader will endeavour to compensate with u still more defective action of tho arm. Ue feels that something more is necessary for true oxpi'es- sion than h.> has given, and so he works spasmodically, wildiy and nngraccl'ully, on the arm and the Land. IIo jerks tliem un and down, he twitches them out of their position of repose, or ho mcc!iauic;iUy see-saws the air with them ; the whole movement that part of the arm extending'; fi> beinij limited the elbow to Intellectual Elocution, 137 the hand, wiiicli in its submission to the bowildorod mind h tiglitly clenched, or one finger, without change, itoints ut some unseen object, or all the fingers lie close together as ii' made of woo<.l, while tlio upper part of the arm is immovably fixed to the .side of the body. But the less wc think of the action, and the moro we couccntratG our fviculties on the Bcntimout, the moro easy and natural ^Yiil be our action. Xo action then will be more exi)res- Bivc than all the above spasmodic attempts at action. Dr. Gregory said of Garriak, " Ila used less action tlian any pL^rformcr I evcf saw; but his action always had me'inimj^ it always spoke. By being less than thatof otlier actors, it had the greater force." The right arm is cliiefly used iu gesticulation, though the leflfc Qi*m may be often brought in for relief, or to direct attention to opposite or contrary objects; but whether the right or the loft, tho whole arm should be moved from the ih^uhler, not from the elbow. Its action too should be in curves. If, for instance, the speaker intends to point to the heavens, his arm previously lying still at his side, he must not lift it up in a straight lino, p-irallol with his body, but gently extending it from his side at any angle, grac^'fully move it round, until, fully extended, it points in the direction int^Dnded, but lying at some angle v.'hicli shall not bo a ri;i,ht on3 citlier to tho earth or his ow'n binly. In moving through tliG curve the motion of tho arm, d»ring its progress to tlie oljject to which attention is directed, will at first bo slightly in a contrary direction. Thus, if we v/ish tf) direct attention to any object to the left of us, or to hurl contempt or defiance iu tliat direction, tlio arm previously lying at tho side will first move outwards to tho rijht, and then proceed in a rising curve, swift or slow as blio case m;iy require, towards the object of attention. Tlij fingers should never lie close together, but bo slightly outspread. If the purpose bo to direct attention to some object near at hand and finite iu character, as iu pointing to a man or a building, tho index finger may be used ; but when the purpose is to direct attention to tho universe, to the heavens, to a nmltitude or a nation, or some abstract principle, as justice or liberty, the i tho hand should bo freely opened, tho fingers separated, the back of the hand turned outward or from the person. This is the form -■• »" '■ ' K ; ' •'.«; 138 Instruction in of action used in addressing, aj)peaUvg, or exliorting. When, however, wo desire to repel visible or invisible objects, tlic palms of the hands arc turned towiirds the object of repulsion, tlie body leanii),^ from it as if we would pudh it from us and shun its presence. Thus also do we forbid, rcjtct, dent/, or impcrntively comnviiid, us when a rul'j: vvoui.. dismiss offensive counscllurs or petitioners. In prayer the hands are clasped, but when a])pcaling to the God of nature, as represented by the universe and as being round us on every side, the arms outspread and the hands extended would be more dignified and ;.;j^rvv^"i i("^. In strong passion, and especially in defiance, the hand h A\'Xi closed tightly or clenched as if we would strike tlw objcck. oi o.^r anq;er or hatred. la restoring the liands and arms to their ^;v.... multitude will be more violent and less respectful than one to rulers and monarchs or superiors. Dignified and solemn subjects require slower and less frequent action tlian excitable, violent or humorous ones. Tho action of the platform orator may be varied, violent, dignified or humorous, imitative and grotesque, according to the subject he introduces. In the senate the action will be calm, manifesting great self-control, and, in mere business 140 Instruction i }„-,.i' um epccclics, simply explanatory aud free from violence. In tho pulpit tiic action is again solemn, dignified, and not too fretiueut, while in reading the Scripture*, the liturgy, or LymuB no uctiun is used. Facial Expression. Many books of elocution give in.struction on the various forms the face is to assume frhilc under the influ- ence of airectcd passion. The first error in such in.^trucli'iii is to infer that the passion is affected. It i« lor the time real. Thu great actor or reader realizes in his imagination the true circum^t:incc3, the true passion, until he fuels it, and then he never f;ils in facial expression. Let us conceive an enemy who has deeply wronged us — thwarted our purposes, injured our iutcrt-st*, blasted our reputation — what must be the feeling but one of intense hatred ? IIow would we address him — how cspreLrS our hatred ? Would any description of facial expression assist as well ;:s a true conception of the feeling? And he who c unot realize the feeling can never put the requisite expression iuto Lis face by rule and method. Think of a reader study uig before ho begins to re^id a love passage of the following descrijition, and then literally following it: ''love gives a soft serenity to tho couutouanee, a languishing to the eyes, a sweetness to the voice, and a tenderness to the whole 1'raiL.e." Or in reproach, "the brow is contracted, the lip turned up with scorn, and the head shaken." The dilEeulty would be to give, by such rules, the due measure of expression, how to languish with the eye, how high to turn the lip, how often to shake the head. Every one passes through the ordeal of some of these feelings in the cxpericnees of life, and wlioever thinks "hovv- he feels in sorrow, hatred, love or pride, will never fail to give, without premeditation, the duo expression to his fiice. The '* mind is the music breatiung from the fice,'' aud the great evil of such instruction is to misguide the etudent as to the true sources of power in expressive delivery. Study vfill improve conception, and true conception of seutimcut is the best and only sure guide for true facial expression. ' I ". MISCELLANEOUS PKOSE SELECTIONS. IIICCABOCCA ON DEVOLUTION. LoHD Lytto.v, 1805. Out of tlio Tinker's bac^ Leon nd Fairfield liad drawn a translation of tVndoiesjt's " Pro;/rcss of Man," and artothor of rtoii;-i5c;:ii'3 '^ Social Contn'Ct." Works so cliKjUcnt luid induced hiui to S'^lect from the tr:!Cts in the Tinker's JMiscell mj tiicrc which abounded most iii profcs;-ion3 of pliilraithropy, and predict ior.s of peine com- ing Golden A;^e, to which old Saturn's Vvas a juki;— tract:? ,so mild Qlid mother-like in their l;in,:j;uaj:;e, that it required a much mora practical experience than Lenny's to perceive that you would iiavo to pass :i river of blood before you had the Kli^:l!te.-^t cliancc of .set- tiu"" foot on tlic flowery banks on which they invited you toreposo — traets which rou;:i,ed poor Chri-tianity on the cheeks, cLq'ijed a crown of innocent daffodillies on her head, and set her to dancing a2^«s <■'''' zi'i>}ijr\\i the pastoral ballot in which St. Simon pipes to the lloek he shears j or having fir^t laid it down as a prelimiuary exipm that " T'ae cloud-capt towers, the gorgoous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itsulf— Yea, all which it iuhcrit, shall dissolve," Bubstituted in place thereof jMonsieur Fourier's symmetrical pha« laustcrc, or IMr. Owen's architectural parallelogram. '•• It was Avith Bome fc.uch tract that Lenny was seasoning his crusts and hisradi^iies, when luccabocca, bending his long dark face over tho student's Bhoulder, said abruptly — " JJiitvolo, my I'riend ! what on earth Lavo you got there? Just let mc look at it, will you ?" * C'anilp Ilenvi, Comte de Saint Simon, whoTras bom at Paris, Oct. 17, 17G0, ancl dietl AIiiv 19. 1S25; Charles Fourier, who was born at Bfsaiifon, April 7, 1772, ancl dk'd iit i'luis, U'-t. m, 1837; and Kobert Owen, wlio was born ai ^'cvtoit, in Itlout- gomory.-hiio. May 11, 1771, and died 2iov. 17, ISfiS, were notorious ad ocales of Corauiiiiiist or Sociiil doctriHCB. lleuce their disciplea are culled fciuiut bimoniaus, Fouricrisis, aud Owenites. nil ■■-— ' i JU^ ' li?^^: }■' 1-1 ;)■,■ ^ t 'miirf. I.(MJ n ■ ' i-' '!' 142 Miscellaneous Prose Selections. Leonard ro.sc rcs]joctfnlly, and coloured deeply as he surren- dered till! tract to liiccilioec.i. Tilt; wise nrin road the lirst p.ii^'e attentively, the second more cursorily, and only r^in his eye over the rest, lie had pone tliroui(!i too vast a raiiii^c of problems politic d. not to have passed over that venerable Pons Aalnornm oi' Socialism, on which Fonvi.r.s and Bi. .Sinjons sit striddlina', and cry aloud th:it th(>y have arrived at the last h(»undary of knowledge I '*' All this is as old as the hills," quoth Ricc:;bocca irreverently ; "but the hills stand still, and this — there it uoQ-^ !" and t^o saG;e point, d to !!, cloud emitted from his ])ipe. *• Did you ever r-ad Sir J )avid Brewster on Uiiticil i •clu;iions V" "NoT' " Well. I'll lend it to you. You will Hud therein a story of a l.uly who rlv-Mys saw a, black cat on her hearth-ruL^ Tb.e black cat existed only in her fancy, but t'lo halluciuation was natural and raasouablc — rli — wli.".t do you think?" '• AVhy, sir," said Leonard, r.ot catching th.o It .'li.-.i's meaning, '' I don't exactly see that it \\i\y, n;;tiU'al ar.d reasonable." " Fool i.-h boy, yes ! because black c:it.'« are thin'jjs pos-iblo and known. But who ever saw upon cartli a community of men such {IS sit on th.o hearth-rrars of jMes-ra. Ov,-en smJ Fourier? If the lady's hallucination was not reasonable, vrliat is his v.ho believes in such visions as these ?" Leonard bit his lip. " 3Iy dear boy," cried Iiiccab.ieca kindly, "the only t'ungsuro and tangible to which these writers would load you, lics:,tt!ie firrt step, and that is what i;^ commonly callod « I'evolution. Now, I know what tluit is. I have LCone, not indeed throucdi a revolu- tion, but an a.ttempt at one." Leonii]\l raised his eyes towards his master with a look of pro- found respect, and grcjit curiosity. "Yes," added llicctdjocca, and the f:;co on which the boy gazed exchanged its usual grotes(|ue and sardonic expression lor one animated, noble, and heroic. '-Yes, not a revolution for eliimeras, but for that cause which tlie coldest allov; to l)e a'ood. and which, when successful, all time approves a.s divine — the redemption of our ualive soil from the rule of tiic foreigner ! I have shared in such an attempt. And," continued the Italian, mournfully, " recalling now all the evil passions it arouses, .all the ties it dissolve^!, all the blood that it commands to flow, all the heakhful industry it arrest,?, all the madmen that it arms, all the victims that it dupes, I question whether one man really honest, pure, and humane, who has once gone through such an ordeal, would ever hazard it again, unless he waa assured that the victory was certain — ay, and the Miscellaneous Prose Selections, 143 object f(ir wliich he fip;hts not to b^ wrested from his liiinds :imul-t the upro.ir of the olcnieiits th.-it the battle lias released." The Italian paused, shaded his brow with his hand, and remained lonti' silent. Then, gradunlly resuming his ordinary tone, lie con- tinued — " devolutions that have no definite objects made clear ])v the positive experience of history ; rovolutions, in a word, that aim less ot substitutini^ one law or one dynasty tor anotlicr, than at chan;:;-- ing the whole scheme of society, have been little atteniiiti'd by real f^tatesmen. Even Lycur^us is proved to bo a. myth who never existed. Such organic clianii-es are but in the day-dreams of philr.i-nphers who lived apart from the actual worki, and whoso opinions (though generally they were very benevolent, gnod ^ort of men, and wrote in an elegant poetical st}le) one would no moro take on a plain matter of lilc, than one would look upon Virgil's; ' Eclogues' as a faithful picture of the ordinary pains and plea^^urcs; of the |'e;:saMt3 who tend our sheep. Read them as you would read poets, and they are delightful. But p.ttempt to shape the world according to the poetry, and fit yourself for a madhouse. The f ir- ther oft" the age is from the realiration of such projects, the moro these poor philosophers have indulged them. Thus, it w:is amidst the saddest corruption of court manners that it became the fishion in Paris to sit for one's picture, with a crook in one's luind, as Alexis or Daphne. Just as liberty was fast dying out of Greece, and the successors of Alexander were founding their monarchies, and Home was growing up to crush in its iron grasp all states save its own, Plato withdraws his eyes from the world, to open them in his dreamy Atlantis.-'"' Just in the grimmest period of Endish history, witli the axe haniiing over his head. Sir Thomas 3forc gives 3'ou his * Utopia. 'f Just when the world is to be tlie theatre of a new Sesostris, the sages of France tell you that the ago is too enlightened for war, that man is henceforth to be governed by pure • Plato's idea of a perfect state is unfolded in the " Laws" nnd tho " Kepublic." t This work, named from a king Utopus, Avritton in Latin, was juMi-^hod at Louvain, in IDIG. Tlio tirst Kiiglisli cditiDii, translati d I j- Hdliyni^on, wiis j.iibll-Iud in Loiidoii, in 155L Bishop Unrnei'a translniinn api)cared iii l(jS4. llnli;im (IJt. Hist., part i,, ch. 4) says—" Tlio • Iippublio' of IMiito no doubt fiirni-ht d Ah ro with tlie geini of las iierfect society; but it would be unreiisonablc to deny liiin tln'iucrit of bavin. g; struck out tho liction of it:^ real existence Ironi Ids own lertil" iniapina- tion; anil it is manifest that some of liis most dl^tin^'uislu.'d successors in tboi-ame walk of romance, especially Swift, were larjrclv Intlcbted Id hisreasciniii;;- ::s well as inventive talents. J'lio.«e who nail the 'Itcijia' in ISurnet's traiisiiiiiin, may believe that they are in l.robdijrnafr; ^o sindlar is tho vein of satiric i! IiunnMir and easy langiiap^. If false and impracticable theories arc found in tlie ' Uti.i.i.i' (and, perhaps, l.e ktiev/ tliera to be eucli), this is in a much greater degree true (,t ilic 1 la- tonic republic." In a note to a later edition of his " Literary llisti.ry,'' llallara I, ill lU jO-Ucvllancoua Prose Selccilons. i:i \ ..,,ii r I -!r rcaKon, and live in a j> iradiso. Vc^ry pretty reading nil tliis tO a man lik'i nic, Lenny, v.lio can admin; and uniiKi at it. IJut to you, i/) tliO man wlio li.is to work (or liis livlii.:, (o t!io nrui who tliink.-i it \V():j!d 1)0 SO niut'li nioro jilcis.uit to livo ,it hi.-! ease in a ])I>ial.ai- Bt'.M'o llian to v.orlv ci.Iit or ten hours a-day ; to the man ol't denfc and adion, and indn,«ti'y, wlioso i'nturo i-5 iiivest-al in that trau- quillity and order of u st;to in which til^nt, and action, and iiidn.'ti-y area cert iln ci[>itd; why, Messrs. CoiUts, the ^reafc bankers, h.id bitter enenura;;'o n t'leory t) up.x't tlio .system of bau'iin'.;'! Whatever disturbs society, ye;i, even by a cause- less i-iiiie, mueli mciv by an actual 8trui:gle, \'\\U firrt upon tho market (d* I ibour, and thenco anect-! prejiK.liei.dly cver^^ doparfc- meut oCintelH-vnce. In sucli tinie-i tlie arts a.i'o arrc-tcd, litorv turo is neglvjcted, people arc too bn^y to real anything' save. •'.ppcajs to their p issious. Av\ capitd, shtdcen in its sousy of security, uo longer ventures b'ddly ihrough the Ian 1, c.dlin ^ ihrfcli all the ener- gies of tnil and enter^'riso, and extetidin^^- to every vrork'.nan his reward. No'V, Lenisy, take this piece of advice. You are yeuii^", clever," and aspirin;.;-: men rarely succeed in changin;;; the world ; but a man s-M-mi i'.i's of f-ucG.vss il' he lots tho v.'ovid alone, and resolves to make the 1)est ol'it. You ;;ri! in tho lui.l^t of tlie great crisis ory(mr life; it is the struggle b tvreen ( ho nov/ desires knov/- Icdgc excites, and tli;it t.;easo of 'poverty, w!.ie!i iho-'e do:-ires coii- ■^crt citlicr into hope or emulation, cr into envy ar.d despair. I grant lliafc it is an up-liill work that liesbciore you ; butdon'tyon think it is adv.'.iys ca.dor to climb a ni'Muit un than itis to levi'l it ? These books c 11 on you to levd the niountain ; and that moun- tain is t;50 property cf other people, sub; liviili'd anion;.^st a great many proprietors, and protected by 1 iw. At the first stroke of tho pick ixe it is ten to one but whiit you are t ;keii up for a tresp iS3. But t'ao path up tlie mount.iiu is aright of way uncontested. Vou may ])e safe at tlic summit, before (even if the owners are fools enough to lot you) you could have levelled a y<'rd. " Cospetto /" quoth tho .Doctor, "it is more than two thousand years ago since poor Plato beg:ui to level it, and the mount :in is as high as ever !"' Tliu-^ saying, Iviceabocca came to the end of his pipe, and, stalk- ing thoughtutUy away, ho left Leonard Fairfleld trying to extr;ic(; light from the smoke. — Mij Novel; or. Varieties in Enejlisli Life, vol. i., book i., chap. 8. MUcellancoui Prose Selections, 145 •MV\ TRIAL OF THE COVENANTEllS AFTEll THE BATTLli) OF BOTHWELL BUIDGE. Sni Waltbb Scott. The Privy Council of Scotluiid, in wliom tlio practice since tlio union ol' tlio crowns vostixl ^ruut judici tl p')\vci'.s, as well a.s tho gouoml supurintL'ndt'nco of tho oxocutivo d(j]);irtuiL'nt, was nict in the ancient, dark, Gotliie room adjoining the House of Paiiiiuiont in E linbur^li, when General Grahame entered and took his place amon,u,st iheiu at tiic council-table. *• You liavo Jirought us a leash of game to-day, General," said a nobleman of high place amongst thcni. ** Here is a craven to confess — a cock of the game to stand at bay — and what shall I call tlio third, General ?" " Without further metaphor, I will entreat your Grace to call liim a po nn in whom I am speci.dly interested," replied Olaver- houso. *' An^ /hig into the bargain," said the nobleman, lolliii'^ out n tongue which was at all times too big for his mouth, and (-om- modal ing his coarse features to a sneer, to which they seemed to bo fami;iar. " Yes, please your Grace, a whig, as your Grace was in IGll," replied Claverhouse, with his usual appearaQce of imperturbable civility. " lie has you there, I think, my Lord Duke," said one of the Privy Councillors. " Ay, ay," returned the Duko, laughing, '' there's no speaking to him since Druinclog. But, come, bring in the prisoners, and do you, Mr. Clerk, read the record." The clerk read forth a bond, in which General Grahame of Claverhouse and Lord Evandalo entered themselves securities that Henry Morton, younger, of IMilnwood, should go abroad and remain in foreign parts until his Majesty's pleasure w:is further known, in respect of tho said Henry Morton's accession to the late rebellion, and that under penalty of life and limb to the said Henry Morton, and of ten thousand marks to each of his securities. *• Do you accept of the King's mercy upon these terms, Mr. Morton V" said the Duko of Lauderdale, who presided in the Council. " I have no other choice, my Lord," replied Morton. " Then subscribe your name in the record." ' ''* 146 Miscellaneous Prose Selections tiv 3 mm l: Morton did so without reply, conscious that, in the circum- Btanccs of his case, it was impossible for him to have escaped more easily ? Macbriar, who was at the same instant brought to the foot of the Council-table, bound upon a chair, for his weakness pre- vented him from standing, beheld Morton in the act of what he accounted apostasy '' lie hath summed his defection by owning the carnal power of the tyrant I" he exclaimed with a deep groan. " A fallen star ! a fallen otarl" '• Hold your peace, sir," said the Duke, " and keep your ain breath to cool your ain porrids^c — ye'll find them scalding hot, I promise you. Call in the other fellow, who has some common Bcnse. One sheep will leap the ditch when another goes first." Cuddie was introduced unbound, but under the guard of two halberdiers, and placed beside Macbriar at the bottom of the table. The poor fellow cast a piteous look around him, in which were mingled awe for the great men in whoso presence he stood, and compassion for his fellow-sufferers, with no small fear of the personal consequences which impended over himself. He made his clownish obeisances with a double portion of reverence, and then awaited the opening of the awfnl scene. " Were you at the battle of Bothweil Bridge ?" was the first question which was thundered in his ears. Cuddie meditated a denial, but had sense enough, upon reflec- tion, to discover that the truth would be too strong for him; so he replied with true Caledonian indirectness of response, "I'll no say, but it may be possible that I might hae been there." " Answer directly, you knave — ^ycs or no ? You know you were there." " It's no for me to contradict your Lordship's Grace's honour,'* Baid Cuddie. " Once more, sir ; were you there ? yes or no," said the Duke, impatiently. " Dear stir," again replied Cuddie, " how can ane mind preceesloy where they hae been a' the days o' their life?" " Speak out, you scoundrel," wud General Dalzell, "or I'll dash jour teeth out with my dudgeon haft. Do you think we can stand here all day to be turning and dodging with you, like grey- hounds after a hare ?" " Aweel, then," said Cuddie, " since naething else will please yc, write down that I cannot deny but I was there." " Well, sir," said the Duke, " and do you think that the rising upon thut occasion was rebellion or not ?" ^ y[i8cellaneou8 Prose tSelecttona. 147 »» " I'm no just free to gie my opinion, stir, ou what might cost my neck ; but I doubt it will be very little better." " Better than whijt?" "Just than rebellion, as your honour ca's it," replied Cuddie. " Well, sir, that's sjieakioG; to the purpose. And are you content to accept of the King's pardon for your j^uilt as a rebel, and to keep the church, and pray for the King?" '• Blithely, stir ; and drink his health into the bargain, when the ale's gude." " E^ad," said the Duke, " this is aheirty cock. "What brought you into such a scrape, mine honest friend ?" " Just ill example, stir, and a dift auld jaud of a mother, wi' reverence to your Grace's honour." " Why, God-a-mcrcy, my friend, I think thou art not likely to commit treason on thine own score Make out his free pardon, and bring forward the rogue in the chair." jMacbriar was then moved forward to the post of examination. " Were you at the battle of Bothwell 13ridge?" was, in like manner, demanded of him.. " I was," answered the prisoner, in a bold and resolute tone. " Were you armed ?" " I was not. I went in my calling as a preacher of God's word, to encourage them that drew the sword in his cause." " In other words, to aid and abet the rebels?" said the Duke. '' 'J'hou hast spoken it," replied the prisoner. " Well, then," continued the interrogator, '• let us know if you saw John Balfour of Burley among the party ? I presume you know him ?" 'T bless God that I do know him," replied Macbriar; "he is a zealous and a sincere Christian." '' And when and where did you last see this pious personage?" was the query which immediately followed. " I am here to answer for myself, and not to endanger others." " We shall know,'' said Dalzell, "how to make you find your ton-jjue." '• If you can make him fancy himself in a conventicle," answered Liiuderdale, " he will find it without you. Come, laddie, spe k while the play is good — you're too young to bear the burden will be laid on you else " " I defy you," retorted Macbriar. " This has not been the first of my imprisonments or of my sufferings ; an J, young as I may be, I have lived long enough to know how to die wken I am died upon." "Ay, but there are some things which must go before an easy death if you continue obstinate," siid L udordalo, and rung a small silver bell which was placed before him on the table. 148 Miscellaneous Prose Selections. ' . ' 1 -T ^ M' •VM • i;fe hm A dark crimson curt lin, which covered a sort of niche or Gothic recess in the wall, rose at the sijjjnal, and displayed the public executioner, a tall, c;rim, and hideous man, having an oaken t ;blo before him, on which lay thumb-screws, and an iron case called the Scottish boot, used in those tyrannical days to torture accused persons. Morton, who was wnpreptrcd for this ghastly apparition, started when the curtain arose; but Macbriar's nerves were more firm. He gazed upon the horrible apparatus with much composure ; and if nature called the blood from his check lor a second, resolu- tion sent it back to his brow with greater energy. "Do you know who that man is?" said Lauderdale, in a low, stern voice almost sinking into a whisper. " He is, I suppose," replied Macbriar, " the infamous executioner of your bloodtliirsty commands upon the persons of God's people. He and you arc equally beneath my regard ; and, I bless God, I no more fear what he can inflict, than what you can command. Flesh and blood may shrink under the sufferings you can doom mo to, and poor frail nature may shed tears, or send forth cries ; but I trust my soul is anchored iirnily on the Hock of Ages." " Do your duty," said the Duke to the executioner. The fellow advanced, and asked, with a harsh and discordant voice, upon which of the prisoner's limbs he should first employ his engine. " Let him choose for himself," said the Duke; " I should like to oblige him in anything that is reasonable." "Since you have it to me," said the prisoner stretching forth his right leg, " take the best. I willingly bestow it in the cause for which I suffer." The executioner, with the help of hia assistants, enclosed the leg and knee within the tight iron boot or case, and then placing a wedge of the same metal between the knee and the edge of the machine, took a mallcit in his hand, and stood waiting for further orders. A well dressed man, by profession a surgeon, placed him- sell' by the other side of the prisoner's chair, bared the prisoner's arm, and applied his thumb to the pulse in order to regulate the torture according to the strength of tlie patient. When these preparations were n)ade, the President of the Council repeat.d with the game stern voice the question : " When and where did you l.ist sec John Balfour of Burley ?" The prisoner instead of replying to him, turned his eyes to Heaven as if imploring Divine strength, and muttered a fjw words, of which the last were distinctly audible, * Thou hast s lid thy peoplt! shall be willing in the day of tliy power!' Tlio Duke of Lauderdale glanced his eye around the Council as if to collect their suffrages, and, judging from their mutesigus, i '■vi k." Miscellaneous Prose Selections. 149 but 3d the )l;icing [of the t'urtlier Id him- Isonor's ]ito tho tiieso fpe:it'.;d 2re did [yes to la fjw kt s lid I cil Poun I signs, gave on his own part a nod to the executioner, whose millet instantly descended on the wedi^e, and, forcing it between the knee and the iron boot, occasioned the most exquisite pain, as was evident from the flush which instantly took place on t!ie brow and on the cheeks of the sufferer. The fellow then again raised his weapon, and stood prepared to give a second blow. " Will you yet say," repeated the Duke of Lauderdale, " where and when you last parted from Balfour of Burley ?" " You have my answer," said the sufferer, resolutely; and the second blow fell. The third and fourth succeeded ; but at the fifth, when a larger wedge had been introduced, the prisoner set up a scream of agony. Morton, whose blood boiled within him at witnessing such cruelty, could bear no longer, and, although unarmed and himself in great danger, was springing forward, when Claverhouse, who observed his emotion, withheld him by force, laying one hand on his arm and the other on his mouth, while he whispered, ' For God's sake think where you are I' This movement, fortunately for him, was observed by no other of the counsellors, whose attention was engaged with the dreadful scene before them. " Me is gone," said the surgeon — "he has fainted, my Lords, and human nature can endure no more." ''Release him," said the Duke, and added, turning to Dalzcll, '' lie will make an old proverb good ; for he'll scarce ride to-day, tiiough he has had his boots on. I suppose we must finish with him V" " A}", despatch his sentence, and have done with him ; we have plenty of drudgery behind." Strong waters and essences were busily employed to recall the pcnscs of the unfortunate captive ; and, when his first f lint gasps intiraatod a retarn of s?nsation, the Duke pronounced sentence of de.ith upon him, as a traitor taken in the act of open rebellion, and adjudged him to bo c u'ried from tlie bar to the common place of execution, and there hanged by the neck ; his Ivead and hands to bo stricken off after death, and disposed of according to the pleasure of the Council, and all and sundry his moveable goods and gear escheat and inbrought to his Majesty's use. " Ooomstor," he continued, "repeat the sentence to the prisoner," The office of Doomstcr was in these d lys, and till a much later period held by the executioner, in ajmmrnda n, with his ordinary functions. The duty consisted in reciting to the unhappy criminal the sentence of the law as pronounced by tho judge, which acquired an additional and horrid emphasis from the recollection that the hateful personage by whom it was uttered was to bo the agent of '■M 150 Miscellaneous Prose Selections. the cruelties he deaouncetl. Micbriar had scarce understood the purport of the words us first pronounced by the Lord President of the Council; but he was sufficient y recovered to listen and to reply to the sentence when uttered by tho h.irsh and odious voice of the ruffian who was to execute it, and at the last awful words, " And this I pronounce lor doom," he answered boldly — " My Lords, I thank you for the only favour I looked for, or would accept at your hands — namely, that you have sent the crushed and maimed carcass, which has i his d ly sustained your cruelty, to this Iiasty end. It were indeed little to me whether I perish on the gallows or in the prison-house. But if death, following close on what I have this day suffered had found mo in my cell of dark- ness and bondage, many might have lost the sight how a Christian man can suffer in the good cause. For the rest, I forgive you, my Lords, for what you have appointed and I have sustained. And why should I not ? Ye send mo to a happy exchange — to the company of angels and the spirits of the just, for that of frail dust and ashes. Ya send me from darkness into day — from mortality to immortality — and, in a word, from earth to Heaven ! If the thanks, therefore, and pardon of a dying mm can do you good, take them at my hand, and miy your last moments be as happy as mine I" — Old Mortality, Chap, xxxvi. ,'', DIVES AND THE HAND OF DEATH. % SAIiA. If you take a million-rich man, and put him naked and witliout victuals or a roof to cover him, on a rock, and expose him to tho nipping frost and the January blast, it will not be long ere he begins to shiver, and anon to howl in agony and despair j and at last he will crouch prone to his jagged bed and die. But in tho very centre of London, with his palaces and liis vassals around him, it is difficult for the rich man to feel the cold. On that bare rock his millions in gold or crisp paper would not warm him, unless haply he had needles and thread to sew the money-bags together for raiment. When ho is in London, however, the money will buy furred robes and Walls-end coals, and sand-b igs to exclude the wind, and well-closed chariots to ride in, and Welsh wigs to draw over his head, plush gloves to cover his hands, and hot-water bottles to. put to his feet, liailway rugs, scaldiig soups and drin'cs, shawls and comforters, are all ready for him and purchaseable. The theatres, the churches, the counting houses, the board-rooms, the marts and exchanges which he frequents, have all their warm- ing apparatus, and become snu^ and oosy. No ; I oaanot see how Miscellaneous Prose Selections^ 151 it is possible for the English Dives to shiver, — were even Siberia brought to London, and the North Pole set up in the Strand in lieu of the May-pole which once adorned that thoroughfare. The milliners that servo Dives' wives and daughters may sell as many fans for Christmas balls as for Midsummer picnics; and at Dives* New-year's feasts the ice-creams and the ice-puddings are poslfcivclj refreshing aftar the spicod viands and generous wines. Sir Jasper Goldthorpe was the richest of rich men. The quilt of his bed might have been stuflFed with bank-notes instead of eider- down. He could have aflForded, had he needed caloric, to have burned one of his own palaces down, and warmed his hands by the confla- gration. From his warm bedroom, breakfast-room, and study, his warm carriage took him, swathed in warm wrappers, to the warm sanctum of his warm counting-house. His head clerks wore respirators, and had muUIgatawncy soup for lunch. The Times* City article was carefully warmed for him ere Le perused it. Ills messengers comforted themselves with alamode beef and hot sausages and fried potatoes before roaring fires; and, when they were despatched on errands, slipped into heated taverns in little City Lrncj, where they hastily swallowed mugs full of steaming eg^-hot and cordialized porter. The only cold that could seem- ingly touch so rich a man as Sir Jasper Goldthorpo was a cold in the head ; and what possets, whito-wlne-whcys, gruels, footbaths, doctors' prescriptions, and hot flannels, were there not in readiness to drive catarrh away from him ! Lived there in the whole realm of England one mm or boy mad or desperate enough to cast a snow-ball at the millionaire of Beryl Court ? I think not. Ho was above the cold. It was street people only who were cold, just as the little princess asked th3 painter who came to take her por- trait whethei' it was not true that '• only street-people died." So Sir Jasper (jroldthorpe, his sons and lliclr thralls and churls, their tributaries and feudatories, let the street-people shiver as beseemed their degree, flinging them cheqaes and sovereigns sometimes in their haughty unbending way, and wont on, warm and glowlu from a prosperous old ye ir to a prosperous new one, when sud denly a Hand of Ice, that thrilled them all to the very bones and m irrow, was laid just above the heart of Mammon, and ofhls wife, and of his children. It was the Hand of Death, and it touched each with a cold pang, and went onwards, to touch some transiently, bat to grasp others without release. Whoever felt Its lightest pressure was chilled and benumbed. The Icy Hand came to Beryl Court and to Onyx Square, and all the gold of Mamnoudom could not, forth it season, bring cheerful warmth again. — The Seven Sons of Mammon : A Story^ Chap, v. IT I 152 Miscellaneous Prose Selections, HOW THE TIDE TURNED. THOMAS HUGHES. <^:, ;'> ik' 'i! bi 'ii'. ' 11) Hi I HAVE already described the Scliool-Iiouso prayers ; tlicy were the same on the first nr^ht as on the other nights, s ive for the gaps caused by the absence of those boys who came Lite, and the lino of new boys who stood all to^i^othcr at the firtlicr tiblj — of all sorts Jind sizes, liko young boars with all their trouble to come, as Tom's father had said to him when ho was in the samo pu^ition. Ho thought of it as ho looked at tho line, and poor little slight Arthur standing with them, and as ho was leading him up stairs to Numbar 4, directly after prayers, and showing him his bjd. It was a huge high airy room, with two large windows looking on to tho school close. There were twelve beds in the room : the one ia the farthest corner by the fire-place occupied by the sixth- form boy who W;is responsible for the discipline of the room, and the rest by boys in the lower fifth and othor junior f imsi, all fags (for the tirth-form boys, as has been said, slept in rOk.^ns by tliem- gelvc-i). Bjing figs, the eldest of them w.is not more t'rm about sixteen ye irs old, and were all bound to be up and in bed by ten ; the sixth-form boys came to bod from ten to a quarter p ist (at which time the old verger came round to put the caudles out), except when they sat up to read. Witliin a few minutjs therefore of their entrv, all the other boys who slept in Number 4 had come up. Tlie little follows went quietly t ) thair own bed<, and began undressing and talking to each othor in whispers ; while the elder, amongst whom was Tom, sat chatting about on one another's beds, witli their jackets and waistcoats otF. Poor little Arthur was overwhclmc I with the novelty of his position. Tho idoi of sleeping in the room with Btranjjo b )ys had clearly never crossed his mind bjf )ro, and was as paiui'ul as it was strange to him. He could hardly bo ir to take his jacket off; however, presently, with an effort, off itcime, and t'len ho paused and looked at Tom, who was sitting at the bottom of his bo.l tilking and laughing. ' "Pie ISO, Brown," he whispered, "may I wash my face and hands ?" " Of course, if you like," said Tom, staring; " that's your wash- han 1 stmd under the window, second from your bed. You'll have to go down for more water in the morning if you use it all." And on he went with his talk, while Arthur stole timidly from between the beds out to his washhand-stmd, and began his ablutions, there- by drawing for a moment on himself the attention of the room. Miscellaneous Prose Selections^ 153 was ckets Uhe with was ir to imc, tho On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished his washing and undressing, and put on his night-gown. He then looked lound more nervously than ever. Two or three of the little boys were already in bod, sitting up with their chins on their knees. The light burned clear, the noise went on. It was a trying moment for tlie poor little lonely boy ; however, this time he didn't ask Tom what he might or might not do, but dropped on his knees by his badsidc, as he had done every day from his childhood, to open his heart to Him whohearcth theory and beareth the sorrows of tlie tender child, and the strong man in agony. Tom Was sitting at the bottom of his bed unlacing his boots, so that his b.ick was towards Arthur, and he didn't see what had happened, and looked up in wonder at the sudden silence. Then two or three boys laughed and sneered, and a big brutal fellow, who was standing in the middle of the room, picked up a slipper, and shied it at the kneeling boy, calling him a snivelling young shaver. Then Tom saw the whole, and the next moment the boot he had just pulled ofiF flew straight at the head of the bully, who had jui;t time to throw up his arm and catch it on his elbow. " Confound you, Brown, what's that for?" roared he, stamping with pain. "Never mind what I mean," said Tom, stepping on to tho floor, every drop of blood in his body tingling; if any fellow wants the other boot he knows how to get it." Wluit would hiive been the result is doubtful, for at this moment the sixth-form boy came in, and not another word could be said. Tom and the rest rushed into bed and finished their unrobing there ; and the old verger, as punctual as the clock, had put out the candle in another minute, and toddled on to the next room, shutting their door with his usual " Good night gcn'lm'n." There were many boys in the room by whom that little kccmc was taken to heart before they slept. But sleep seemed to have deserted the pillow cW' poor 'J'om. For some time his excitement, and the flood of memories which chased one another through his brain, kept him from thinking or resolving. His head throbbed, his heart leaped, and he could hardly keep himself from springing out of bed and rushing about the room. Then the thouglit of his own mother came across him, and the promise he had made at her knee, years ago, never to forget to kneel by his bedside, and give himself up to his Father, before he laid his head on the pillow, from which it might never rise ; and he lay down gently and cried as if his heart would break. He was only fourteen years old. It was no light act of courage in those days, my dear boys, for a little fellow to say his prayers publicly, even at Rugby. A 4ew \QdV8 later, when Arnold's manly piety had begun to leaven 154 Miscellaneous Prose Selections, iCi'/t-. »,•'. 41.'- i-i\ the school, the tablos turaed ; before he died, in the school-house at least, and I believe in the other house, the rule was the other way. But poor Tom had come to school in other times. The first few nights after he cumc he did not kneel down because of the noise, but sat up in bed till the candle was out ; and then stole out and said his prayers, in fear lest some one should find him out. So did many another poor little felioTt. Then ho bc;?an to think that he might just as well say his prayers in bed, and then tluit it didn't matter whether he was knecliujj, or sitting, or lying down. And so it had come to pass with Tom, as with all who will not confess their Lord before men ; and for the last year he had probably not said his prayers in earnest a dozen times. Poor Tom I the first and bitterest feeling which was like to break his heart was the sense of his own cowardice. The vice of all others which he loathed was brought in and burned in ou his own soul. He had lied to his mother, to his conscience, to his God. How could he bear it ? And then the poor little weak boy, whom he had pitied and almost scorned for his weakness, had done that which he, braggart as he was, dared not do. The first dawn of comfort came to him in swearing to himself that ho would stand by that boy through thick and thin, and cheer him, and help him, and bear his burdens, for the good deed done that night. Then he resolved to write home next day and tell his mother all, and what a coward her son had been. And then peace came to him as he resolved, lastly, to bear his testimony next morning. The morning would be iiarder than the night to begin with, but he felt that he could not afford to let one chance slip. Several times he faltered, for the devil showed him first all his old friends calling him " Saint" and " Square-toes," and a dozen hard names, and whispered to him that his motives would be misunderstood, and he would only be left alone with the new boy ; whereas it was his duty to keep all means of influence, that he might do good to the largest number. And then c ime the more subtle temptation. "Shall I not be showing myself braver t!ian others by doing this ? Have I any right to begin it now ? Ought I not rather to pray in my own study, letting other boy.s know that I do so, and trying to lead them to it, while in public at least I should go on as I have done? However, his good angel was too strong that night, and he turned on his side and slept, tired of trying to reason, but resolved to follow the impulse which had been so strong, and in which he had found peace. Next morning he was up and washed and dressed, all but his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten minutJs' bell began to ring, and then in the face of the whole room knelt down to pray. Not five words could he say — the bell mocked him j he was listening Miscellaneous Prose Selections* 155 for every whisper in the room — what were they all thinking of him. He was ashamed to go on kneeling, ashamed to rise from his knees. At hist, as it were from his inmost heart, a still small voice seemed to breathe forth the words of the publican, " God be merciful to mo a sinner 1" He repeated them over and ovjr, clin<>in> ' ^ O'tH'''' '.;.:• THE DEATH OF LITTLE NELL. Dickens. The dull, red glow of a wood firo — for no lamp or candle burnt within the room — showed hiiu a li'^urc, soutcd on the hearth with it-i back towards him, bending over the litt'ul light. The iittitudo Was that of one who sought the heat. It was, and yet wat< not. The stoo})ing posture and the cowering form wore there, but no hands were strctciied out to meet tiie grateful warmth, no shrug or shiver compared its luxury with tiio piercing cold outside. With linjbs huddled together, head bowed down, arms crossed upon the breast, and fingers tightly clenched, it rocked to and fro upon its seat without a moment's pause, accompanying the action witii the mournful sound he had heard. The heavy door had closed behind him on his entrance, with a crash that made him start. The figure neither spoke, nor turned to look, nor gave in any other way the I'aintest sign of having heard the noise. The form was that of an old man, his white head akin in colour to the mouldering embers upon which ho ga^ed. Ho, and the failing light and dying fire, the time-worn room, the solitude, the wasted life and gloom, were all in fellow- ship. Ashes, and dust, and ruin I Kit tried to speak, and did pronounce some words, though what they were he scarcely knew. Still the same terrible low ciy went on — still the same rocking in the chair — the same stricken figure was there, unchanged and heedless of his presence. He had his hand upon the latch when something in the form — distinctly seen as one log broke and fell, and, as it fell, blazed up — arrested it. Ho returned to where he had stood before — advanced a pace — another — another still. Another, and he saw the face. Yes ! Changed as it was, he knew it well. " Master!" he cried, stooping on one knee and catching at his band. " Dear master, speak to me 1" The old man turned slowly towards him j and muttered in a hollow voice, " This is another ! — How many of these spirits there have been to-night!" " No spirit, master. No one but your old servant. You know me now, I am sure ? Miss Nell — where is she— where is she ?" " They all say that!" cried the old man. " They all ask the same question. A spirit 1" " Where is she ?" demanded Kit. « Oh tell me but that,— but that, dear master 1" " She is asleep — ^yonder — in there," "Thank God 1" Miscellaneous Prose Selections, 167 " Ayo ! Thjink God !" returned tlie old man. " I have prayed to Ilim, miny, mid m my, ;ind many ji livolonj^ nit;ht, when sho has b.cu a-loop. lie knows. Hark I Did she call '{*' " I hoard no voice." " You did. You hear lior now. Do you toll me that you don't hear fkut?" IJc started up and listfMiod np^aiu. "NortUat?" ho cried, with a triuinphant smile. "Can any- body know that voice so well as II Hush ! hush I" I^lotioniiii:; him to bo siieut, ho stole away into another chamber. After a short ubsenco (durin;^ which lie could bo heard to spo ik in a softened soothing tone) he returned, bearing in his hand a lam]). " She is still asleep," he whispered. " You were right. She did not ciU — unless she did so in her slumber. She has c died to me in her sleep before now, sir; as I have sat by, watching, I have seen her lips move, and have known, though no sound c ime from them, that she spoke of mo. I feared the light might dazzle her eyes and wake her, sol brought it here." He spoke rather to himself than to the visitor, but when ho had put the lamp upon the t ible, he took it up, as if impelled by some momentary recollection or curiosity, and held it near his face. Then, as if forgetting his motive in the very action, he turned away and put it down again. " She is sleeping' soundly," he said ; " but no wonder. Angel hands have strewn t le ground deep with snow, that the lightest loot- step may be lightei yet ; and the very birds arc dead, that they may not wake her. She used to feed them, sir. Though never so cold and hungry, the timid things would fly I'rom us. They never flew from her !" Again he stopped to listen, and scarcely drawing breath, listened for a long, long time. That fancy past, he opencrtl an old chest, took out some clothes as fondly as if they liad been living things, and began to smooth and brush them x^ith his hand. " Why dost thou lie so idle there, dear Nell," he murmured, " when there are bright red berries out of doors waiting for thee to pluck them I Why dost thou lie so idle there, when thy little friends come creeping to the door, crying 'where is Nell — sweet Nell?' — and sob, and weep, because they do not see thee. She was always gentle with children. The wildest would do her bid- ding — she had a tender way with them, indeed she had !" Kit had no power to speak. His eyes were filled with tears. "Her little homely dress,— her favourite I" cried the old man, pressing it to his breast, and patting it with his shrivelled hand. " She will miss it when she wakes. They have bid it here ia 158 Miscellaneoua Prose Selections, W If m sport, but fihe shiiU have it — fihc shall have it. I would not vex my darliii|5 for the wide world's riches. See liero— these shoes — how worn they are — .she kept them to remind her of (ur 1 ist I'/iig jcNirncy. You .see where the little fe(!t v^cMit b ire upon the ' ^isj fcl . kI jfe:: ^(^;- ' ' H 'itSi "I' ; H * ■ ^H r.'. ' ' . Hi ^ 'Im ^^'' )*m ,'■'■: P' u^ir'i^ . -•'<^l'V ■m- ■ ■ '■■■"fv,,>,« i^vv^f^r . 1 ..'. ' ■;< . - /."'^ V. •■ '•• MJk ■ », ' .' u . i-ii. " Welifivc heard you say," pursued the schoolmaster, "tliatin this and in all teii, long uns en, long separated from you, who now, at last, ia your utmost need came back to comfort and console you — " " To be to you what you were once to him," cried the younger, falling on his knee before him; " to repay your old affec- tion, brother dear, by constant care, solicitude, and love; to be at your right hand, whiit he has never ceased to be when oceans rolled between us ; to call to witness his unchanging truth and mindfulness of bygone days, whole years of (icsolation. Give mo but one word of recognition, brother — and never — no :ever, in the brightest moment of our youngest days, when, poor silly boys, wo thought to pass our lives together — have we been half as dear and precious to each other as wo shall be from this time hence 1" The old man looked from face to face, and his lips moved ; but no sound came from them in reply. "If we were knit toiiether then," pursued the younger brother, " what will be the bond between us now! Our love and fellow- ship began in childhood, when life was all before us, and will be resumed when we have proved it, and are but children at the 1 ist. As many restless spirits, who have hunted ibrtune, f ime, or plea- sure through the world, retire in their decline to where they first drew breath, vainly scckinj: to bo children once again beforo tliey die, so we, less fortunate than tliey in early life, but happior in its closing scenes, will set up our rest agiin among our boyish haunts, and going homo with no hope realised, that had its growth in manhood — carrying back nothing that we brought away, but our old vearniuiTs to eacii other — saving no fragment from the wr. ck of life, but that which first endeared it — may bo, indot-d, but children as at first. And even," he added in an altered voice, " even if what I dread to name h is come to pass — even if that bo BO, or is to be (which Heaven forbid and spare us !) — still, dear brother, wo are not apart, and have that comfort in our gi'eat affliction." Miscellaneous Prose Selections, 161 By little and little, the old man had drawn back towards the inner cluanber, while these words were spoken. lie pointed tkere, as he replied, with trembling lips: •'! j ;:./•/• '" You plot among }ou to wean my heart from her. You never will lo that — never while I have life. I have no relative or friend but her — I never had — I never will have. She is all in all to me. It is too late to part us now." ■ Waving them off with his hand, and calling softly to her as ho went, he stole into the room. They who were left behind drew close together, and after a few whispered words — not unbroken by emotion, or easily uttered — followed him. They moved so gently, that their footsteps made no noise ; but there were soba from among the group, and sounds of grief and mourning. For she was dead. There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest. The solemn stillness was no marvel now. She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life ; not one who had lived and suffered death. Her couch was dressed with here and tliere some winter berries and green loaves gathered in a spot she had been used to fivor. " When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it always." Those were lier wordi. She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird — a poor slight thing the pressure of a finger would have crushed — was stirring nimbly in its cage ; and the strong heart of its child mistress was mute and motionless for ever. Where wore the traces of her early c ifcs, her sufferings and fatigues ? All gone. Sorrow was dead indeed in her, but peace and perfect happiness were born j imaged in her tranquil beauty and profound repose. And still her former self lay there, unaltored in this change. Yes. The old fireside had smiled upon that same sweet fice; it hud passed, like a dream, through haunts of misery and care ; at the door of the poor schoolmaster on the summer evening, before the furnace fire upon the cold wet night, at the still bedside of the dying boy, there had been the same mild lovely look. So shall we know the angels in their majesty after death. The old man hold one languid arm in his, and liad the small hand tii;ht folded to hi-i breast, for wariuth. It was tlio hand ;;ho had stretched out to him with her lust smile — the hand that led him on, tlirough all their wanderings. Ever and anon ho pressed it to his lips ; then hugged it to hi:-! breast again, murmuring thai it was warmer now ; and, as he saiii it, he looked, fn agony, t^ those who stood around, as if imploring them to help her. — x' 162 Miscellaneous Prose Selections, h: 'i VI, ^ She was dead, and past all help, or need of it. The ancient rooms she had seemed to fill with life, even while her own was waning fast — the garden she had tended — -the eyes she had glad- dened— the noiseless haunts of many a thoughtful hour — the patlis she had trodden as it were but yesterday — could know her never more. '' It is not," said the schoolmaster, as he bent down to kiss her on the cheek, and gave his tears free vent, " it is not on earth that Heaven's justice ends. Think what earth is, compared with the World to which her young spirit has winged its early flight; and s:iy, if one deliberate wish expressed 5u solemn terms above this bed could call her back to life, which of us would utter it!" Oh I it is hard to tukc to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, and is a mighty universal Truth. When IJeath strikes down tha innocent and young, for every fragile form from which he lots tho panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy^. charity, and love, to walk the world, and bless it. Of every teal thit sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good ia born, some gentler nature comes. In the Destroyer's steps thera spring up bright creations that defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way of light to Heaven. ••■ ■•■].: , <; u ft. :*' THE JUDGMENT OF HERKENBALD. The virtues of tiie Belgians were, in the year 1020, of a mucb more austere character than they areattliis time, and, as a natural consequence, the puDishmcntrf awarded to crime were severe, and administered with inflexible justice. At the period referred to lived Ilerkenbald, supreme Judo-e of the city of Brussels, a man whose perfect integrity is cited as an example even to this day. lie was then about seventy years of flgc, a widower; his iiimily consisting of a nephew, whom he had reared in his own house, and a daughter named Blanche, whoso goodness and affection ho valued abcve everything in the world. Brought up together i'rom childhood, mutual attachment had ripetied into professions of love between the nephew and daughter, sanctioned by the old judge, who, thus deeply interested in the nephew, desired that the young man should replace him in the administration of justice, when cither age or death should remove him fium the judgment seat. With much anxiety then ho saw this young man give himself up to loose companionship and Mi8cellaneou8 Prose Seleetiom, 1G3 & as an oars of 10 had whoso world. had ightcr, in the iu the i-omove ho saw Ip and vicious dissipation ; he saw, however, that his daughter loved the prodigal in spite of all, and he hoped that time would work the needed reformation. One day, as the worthy judge sat dispensing equal justice to all who sought it— to peasant as to lord — a poor old man, with terror in his looks and tears coursing down his i'urrowed cheeks, camo and threw himself upon his knees before him. "Eisc, good man," said Ilcrkenbald : *'no one should kneel for justice — it is the right of all who ask it. opeak: what would you?" " Justice ! justice, which I know you will not refuse me. My lord — " his tears ll'U faster — " I want but justice, — would to God I had not needed to ask for it. You have a child — a daughter, my Lord Judge! I too — I am a father. My child, my daugliter was everything in the world to me — family, riches, hope, pride. Siie was chaste and pure. There was not under the sun a lather happier in his child than I. Now, all is lost to me; my child — justice, lord ! — my child is but as the shadow of what she wasw A young man — a beast, debauched and vile ! — forgive me, mj Lord Judge — has forced his way into my wretched home and— in spite of her shrieks — in sjnte of everything — the monstrous villain has dishonoured my child." Hcrkenbalds checks grew p;ile as he heard the old man's accu- sation, and he devoutly crossed himself He took up a book of Laws and with ticmbling hands turned over its pages. While the judge read a profound silence was in the place, broken only by the sobs of the unhappy father. After he had read for a few moments the judge's hand was observed to close upon the book with a tightened grasp ; he then appeared to re-read a portion of the pngo with increased attention. At length he closed the volume, and, after a moment's pause, turned and said : " You shall be avenged ; the laws give you the blood of the criminal." " Oh ! my lord," cried the miserable fither, " I do not seek his life." The inflexible judge heard him not. "Where is this guilty wretch ?" he demanded, rising from his seat. " He— he is yet in my house." "We will go thither," and, making a sign to his officers to follow him, the iudtre went forth. On the way, the old man, who was troubled at the seventy with which the judge seemed disposed to do him justice, would have spoken a few words in extenuation of the criminal; but Hcrkenbald, pale and abstracted, pressed sternly forward, seemingly unconscious of everything that was passing around him. 164 Miicellaneous Prose JSelection$. At length tliey reached the house where the crime had been committed, and demanded admittance. After a while some one opened the door from within ; — it was the nephew of Herkenbald I The old judge's heart stood still. For a minute he was silent, *' Know you the infamous wretch who has done this crime ?" he asked ut length; " is he of your friends ?'* Fainting with terror, and utterly confounded, the young man at onco threw himself at his uncle's feet, and confessed himself the criminal. Ilcrkonbald's face became deadly pale. " My Blanche f my poor child I" he murmured to himself. Tears sprang to his eyes, and for a while he spoke not. When ho did speak his voice was low, but unfaltering. " You must die," he said. "0 Heaven!" shrieked the terrified wretch; "forgive mo uncle ; I was out of my senses — drunk with wine." " You Iw-ve done that for which the penalty is death, and— you die." (r : or,f ..* i.^.^iW,. -rrr.^ The criminal abandoned hope. A confessor went to his side, and when he retired, the judge made a sign. — The guilty nephew was decapitated on the spot. Herkenbald returned home weeping. Not long could the horrible story be kept from his child ; the facts were related to her as carefully as might be, but the shock was greater than she could bear I her heart was broken, and in less than a year she died. The old judge did not long survive his lost darling ; for the love and blessings of the people, dear as they were to him, could not sustain him under so great an affliction. The street in which the crime was committed and its terrible punishment consummated has ever since been called the " Hue de Fer." . -lyi^r ■', ■i e.xa t:i:;i'.iiipsi " You're wcry good, sir," replied Mr. Weller. "Just hold mc at first, Sam; will you ?" said Mr. Winkle. " There — that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam ; not too fast." Mr. Winkle stooping forward, with his body half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the opposite banic " Sam I "/■''' '■'■' ~^'' "■'■' ''iVf ,Vs/!i;i M .ll/. ,;. ii;:j >;Fi:.i tui '■ju bfcii. J)ii! ' 'i(U "Sir?" 1/ *' Here. I want you." " Let go, sir," said Sam. " Don't you liear tbe governor a callin' ? Let go, sir." With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself from the grasp of the agonised Pickwickian, and, m so doing, administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or practice could have insured, that unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into tJi$ MtieellaneouB Prose Selections, lei centre of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flouriah of unparalleled beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash tiiey both fell heavily dowu. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise to do anything of the kind, in skates. He was seated on the ice, making spa.smodio eflbrts to smile; but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance. " Arc you hurt ? " inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with great anxiety. " Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very hard. " I wish you'd let mo bleed you," said Mr. Benjamin, with great eagerness. " No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle, hurriedly. " I really think you had better," said Allen. " Thank you," replied Mr. Winkle ; " I'd rather not." " What do you think, Mr. Pickwick ? " inquired Bob Sawyer, Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, " Take his skates off." "No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated Mr. Winkle. " Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly. The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Wioklc allowed Sam to obey it in silence. ■' .iv^^u:--!? v/ ^. .': r'i l.-^lbv,-.; ,:i{>i9 -ujo " Lift him up," said Mr, Pickwick. Sam assisted him to rise. Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the by-standcrs ; and, beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a searching look mpon him, and uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words : •* ■ J '--'-'a; yi.' iJiivi: i/,i;i..a " You're a humbug, sir." 'i is--' tJV!; » " A what ? " said Mr. Winkle, starting. " A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. An impostor, sir." ''t"> ! With those words, Mr, Pickwick turned slowly on his heel^ m^ rejoined hi3 friends. OL! <* y} ?i^sidoiimo:i oifi < .a sneering voice, " Mr. Paul Denton, your reverence has lied, you promised us not only a good barbecue, but better liquor — where is your liquor? " "There I " answered tho missionary, in tones of thundier, and pointing his motionless finger at the double spring gushing up in two strong columns, with a sound like a shout of joy, from the bosom of the earth. " There! " ho repeated, with a look twrrible as lightning, while his enemy actually trembled at his i'eet. " There is tho liquor which God, the Eternal, brewa for all his children I Not in tho simmering still, over smoking fires, eliokcd with poisonous gases, and surrounded with tho stench of sickening odors and rank corruption, doth your Father ia heaven prepare the precious essence of life — pure cold water — but in the green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there God himself brews it; and down low in the deepest valleys, where the fountains murmur and the rills sing, and high upon the mountain tops — whero tho naked granite glitters like gold in the sun, where the storm-cloud broods, and the thunder-storms crash— and away, far away, far away out on the wide, wide sea, wlicre the hurricane howls nuisio and the big waves roar the chorus, ' sweeping the march of God ' — there he brews it, that beverage of life — health-giving water 1 • And everywhere it is a thing of beauty. Gleaming in the dew- drop, singing in the summer's rain, shining in the ice-gem, till the trees seem turned to living jewels, spreading a jroldon veil over tlic setting sun or a whits gauze isround the midniglit moon, Bporting in the cataract, sleeping in the glr.ciers, dancing in tho hailstones, folding bright snow-curtains soiily above the wintry world, and weaving tho many-colored iris — thr.t seraph's zone of the sky whose wai'p is the rain of earth, whose woof ia ithe gunbeum of Leaven all checkered over with celestial flowortiii Ii ii Hi's*" H. - ■}'y'-% 174 MiQtillaneous Prose Selections. by the mystic hand r,f rarcfjiction. Still alv^ays it is beautiful — that blessed cold water ! No poison bubbles on its brink, palo widows and starving orphans weep not burnini^ tears iu its clear dep<^hs, no drunkard's shrieking ghost curst'S it in words of despair ! Speak out my friends, would you exchange it for the demon's drink — alcohol 'i " A shout lika the roar of the tempest answered — No ! — No I ON HUMAN GRANDEUR. GOLDSMITU. An alehouse-keeper, near Islington, who had long lived at the sign of the French King, upon the commencement of the last wax pulled down his old sign, and put up that of the Queen of IIuii- gary. Under the ii\lluonce of her red face and golden sceptre he continued to sell ale, till she was no longer the favourite of his customers ; he changed her, tiicrefore, some time ago, for tho King of Prussia, who may probably be changed, in tu'-n, for the next y.reat man that shall be set up for vulgar admiration. In this manner the great are dealt out, one after the other, to tho gazing crowd. When we have sufficiently wondered at one of them, he is taken in, and another exhibited in his room, who seldom holds his station long ; — for the mob are ever pleased with variety. I must own, I have such an indifferent opinion of the vulgar, that I am ever led to suspect that merit which raises their shout ; at least I am certain to lind those great, and sometimes good men, who find satisfaction in sucli acel:!mai;ions, made worse by it; and history has too frequently taught me, that the head which has grown this day giddy witli the roar oi' the million, has, the VGi'y next, been fixed upon n polo. There is scarce a village in Europe, and not one university, that is not furnished with its little great men. The head of a petty corporation, who op()Oses the designs of r: prince, who would tyran- nic, illy force his subjects to save their best clothes for Sundays; the pi'ny pedant, who finds one u idi^covMired quality in the poly- pus^ or describes an unhet^ded piocoss in tiic skeleton of a molo, and whose mind, like his microscope, perceives nature only io detail ; the rhymer, w!;o nvikes smooth verses, and paints to our imagination when hes)u>uld only speak to our hearts; all equally fancy themselves walking forward to immortality, and desire the crowd behind them to look on. The crowd takes them at their word. Patriot, philosopher, and poet, are shouted in their trtija. kliat 3tty ran- Miscellaneous Prose Selections. 175 " Where was there ever so much merit seen ? no times so impor- tant as our own! Ages, yet unborn, sliall gnze with wonder and applause ! " To sucli music tlic important pigmy moves I'orward, bustling and swelling, and Jiptly compared to a puddle in a Btorm. I liavc lived to see generals, who once had crowds hallooing after them wherever they went, who were bcpraised by news- papers and magazines, — those echoes of the voice of the vulgar,— and yet tlicy have long sunk into merited obscurity, witli t^carco even an epitaph left to flatter. A few years ago the herring- fishery employed all Grub-street ; it was the topic in every coffee- house, and the burden of every ballad. Wc were to drag up oceans of gold from the bottom of the sea ; we were to supply all Eurojjc with herrings upon our own terms. At present wo hear no more of all this. "We have fished up very little gold, that I can learn ; nor do we furniyh the world with herrings as was expected. Let us wait but a few years longer, and we shall find all our expectations — a herring fishery ! EVIL EFFECTS OF SUPPRESSING INQUIRY. JOHN MILTON. Behold, now, this vast city,* a city of refuge, the mansion- house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with God's j)roteo- tion ; the shop of war hath not there more anvils and hammers working to fashion out the plates and instruments of armed ju-tico in dcfrnce of beleaguered truth, than tiicre be pens ard head> there Bitting by their studious himps, musing, searching, revolving' new notions and ideas, wherewith to present, as with their homa_e and their fealty, the approaching relbrmation; others, as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to the force of reason and convincc- ment. This is a lively and cheerful presage of our happy succesa and vict.)ry. For as in a body when the blood is fresh, the spirits pure and vigorous, not only to vit:d, but to rational ficultit's, and those in the acutest and the pertest operations oi' wit and subtlety, it argues in what good plight and constitution the body is , so, when the cheerfulness of the people is so sprightly up as tiiat it haa not only wherewith to guard W(>11 its own freedom and safety, but to spare, and to bestow ui)on the solidest and sublimest points of controversy and new invention, it betokens us not degenerati'd, iior drooping to a fatal decay, by casting off the old and wrinkled skin * London* ah ii ! 176 Miscellaneous Prose Selections. of corruption, to outlive these pangs, and wax young again, enter- ing the glorious way.s of truth and prosperous virtue, destined to become great and honorable in these hitter ages. Mcthinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks; mctiiinks I see her as an eagle, mewing* her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam ; purging and unseal- ing her long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radi- ance ; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and, in their envious gabble, would prognosticate a year of Beets and schisms. What should ye do, then ? Should ye suppress all this flowery crop of knowledge and new light sprung up, and yet springing daily, in this city ? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty cngrossersf over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when wo shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing, do as good as bid ye suppress yourselves ; and I will soon show liow. If it be desired to know the immediate cause of all tl'is free writing and free speaking, there cannot bo assigned a truer than your own mild, and free, and humane government ; it is the liberty. Lords and Commons, wiiir-h your own valorcus and happy counsels have purchased us; liberty, which is the nurse of ail great wits, — this is that which hath rariiied and enlightened our spirits, like the influence of heaven ; this is that which hath enfranchised, enlarged, and lifted up oui apprehensions degrees above themselves. Ye cannot nwikc us now less capable, less knowing, less eagerly pursuing of the truth, unless ye iirst make yourselves, that made us so, less the lovers, less the founders, of our true liberty. We can grow ignorant again, brutish, formal, and slavish, as ye found us; but you ^'\cn, must first become that which you cannot be, oppressive, arburary, and tyrannous, as they were from whom ye have freed us. That our hearts are now more capacious, our thoughts more erected to the search and cxpcctaticQ of greatest and esactest things, is the issue of your own virtue propagated in us; ye cannot suppress that, unless ye reinforce an abrogated and merciless law, that I'.ithers m'y despatch at will their own children ; and who shall then stick closest to yc and excite others ? Not he who takes up arms for coat and conduct, • Mvit'iKfj, f!inf \»,r)}r>vJ(in(7, m»ti»2ofr(il(latKldnma.'.T''d foathers, that thoir placa may bo i-;iii|)Ii<*il witli new uad uniujwrcil oiio.'J. Thii nfriM to flic condiurl ■ f tlio fieo]i'(' in rejecting old opiuions tiud abolishing old iU8titutions,aud replacing lU^in by others. t Monopolizora, , MiBcellaneous Prose Selections. 177 cnter- ucd to s I see like a 3tluaks iiulUng uiiseal- [y radi- [3, with hat she year of flowery ringing rosscrsf WG Bhall bushel ? , such a id I will tc cause assigned .rumont ; valovcus ;lic nurse i^htcued lich hath dogbees cblc," less rst make ndcrs, of , formal, |omc that 1, as thoy ,f)W more [pcctatica n virtue ;(,jice an 111 at will I3 y.^ and couduct, and his four noblc^s of Dancgclt.* Although I dispraise not the dclbnce of just immunities, yet I love my peace better, if that were all. Gire me the lihertij to hnovi, to utter, and to argue freely/, accordl.^yj to conscience, above all liberties. DESCRIPTION OF THE QUEEN OF FRANCE. BUBEE. It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles; and surely never lighted on thi:-} orb. which slie hardly seemed ,0 toucli, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated r^pherc she just began to move in, glit- tering like the morning st ir, lull of lifo, and splendour, and joy. Oh. what a revolution I AVhat a heart I must have to contem- plate without emotion that elevation and that fall ! Little did I dream that, when she added titles of veneration to those of enthu- siastic, distar.c, respectful love, that she should ever be obliged to c;irry tlie shai-p antidote against disgrace concealed in that bosom ; httle did I dream that I should have lived to see such disasters fallen upon her in a nation of gallant men, in a nation of men of honour and r)!' cavaliers. I thought ten thousand swords must have le;iped from their scabbards to avenge even ;i look tliat threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry Is gone. That ot'sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded ; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall we behold that nenerou-' loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart vrhich kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life, the :;hoap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enter- prise, is gone. It is gone, that sensibility of principlo, that chastity of honour, which felt a stain like a wound, whieh inspired courage whilst it mitigated ferocity, whieh ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil, by losing jdl its grossuess. I their plRCO ;;ct t' tho lacing tUsm *Ttio I).iuPfjoU was a tax Icviod by King Jtholrcd to (lefrnv the oxpon^e of rotii>L; iho iiivn.siiins "f tho iMiiifs, ur to iiurcha c iJcacc by au iguuiniuiuus tri- butu; it was ubolisbcd by fcitepbon.^ ■ ' lll'l m '^■\,y ■ 178 3IisceUanmus Prose Selectiona. DEATH OF MARIE-ANTOINETTE. CARLYLE. On ]\rnn(L(y, tlic ]4tli fif October, 1703, a c;iiise is poiidinpj in the P iliis do Jnstic , in tho new llcvokitioiKn-y C'.uvt, such as these oM stoiK! Av ;lls nov(!r v.itncsseil, — tiio tri ;1 o!' M. li '-Antoi- nette. The oi!C(! briiil.te.'-t oi' queens, now tarnisi.ed, dv'i'accd, foir.;!:'.'ii, stuids here ;;t Foiuiiiier Tiiiviilc's juduinent-b. r, ;;iiswcr- m\i ilir lier lile. 'j'l:c iiHlietiiic t>.t av;:,s driivcred J:ci' 1 .-t iii;dit. To y-\\v]\ ch.-!i),LiCs oi" Luiu..ii Ibrtuue whi.t words ;ire :>dcquate ! SihiiC-.^ ;;h)ne is ndequiit'. 31; iie-Antoinett ■• in tliis h -r ntt'r ."bciiidonn^ent .-md lioiir of extreiiiu need, is not w.intlni^to jier-i'll', the ini})evi;il v, otn;;n. Her look, t!iey s;iy, <:s th;!t hideous indictment was I'eadiii;.'-. continued calm; " &-he was sometimes observed niovin';- lier Imu^rs ;;s when one ]»l:\ys on the ])i;;no." You dicern, not without iutere: t, ncross that dim revolution ay bull tin itself, how s!ie bear*^ her^cU" queen- like. Her answers are ] nju] t, clear, olten ol' l;conic brevity; resolution which has ^ri>wn contein]ituous, v>lthout ceasln-a; to be di^uniiitd, veils itscli' in cahn words. '• Ytm jicrsist then in doniil?'' '• 31y jih^n is not denial; it is the trutli I iiavc said, and I ])ersist in that." At iour o'elocl' on Widnesdiy mornincr, after two days and two niuhts of interroii'atin^-, juvy-cuar-iinu;, and otlier darkening of coun-ei, the result comes out — sentence oi' death ! ' 11 ive you anythinu' to say ? '" The accused shook her head without speech. Ni^i^ht's c.indhs arcburniiu- out; ;nul wit'i her, too, tiuii; is linish- ing, and it will be eternity and — day. This hall of Tinvillo's is dark, ill-lighted except where she stands. tSilently she \\Ithdraws from it, to die Is t!iere a mini's lie.n't that think-^ v/jtljout i)ity of tliose long months aiid years of slow, wastim;' i/nondny , ^)Y thy birth, soft cradled in inifierial h'clidnbrunn, the winds of licaven not to visit thy face too rour.ldy, t!:y loot to li-ht on .softness, thy eye on Splcndonr; and then ef t.!iy deatli, (u* i;u!idred de tli-i!, to which the r^uidotine and Fou(juier-Tinville"s judu:.iient-b;!' W' re but the merciful ciul ? Look ti.ero, m;n born of woman ! The bloom of that fair hicc is wasted, the hair is ,i:rey with e i >; t'a> bri;j,ht- ncss of those eyes is (jucv.ehed. their lids hang drooping; the face is .stony pale, a.s of one living in death. Mean w.v ds, which her own ia;nd has mend' d, .;ttire t'le (jucen oi'tlie woi'ld. I'lu) dcath- Lurdle, where tSiou fcslttest pale, motionhjss, which oiiiy curses environ, has to stop; d peopK; drunk with venge.nea, wiil drink it Cii'aiu in fall draught, looking at thee there. Far as the oyo 3Ii8ccUaneous Prose Selections, 179 reacho'', :i multitudinous sea of m.uiiac heads, tlie air de.if with tlieir triumph, yell. 'Ilie liviii-' dead uiu^t sliudihr with yet anotlior p::nLr ; her .startled blood yet ag-a in suHusrs with t'nc hue of a.iiony that pale face, wl.icli she hides with h-r hinls. TI.ere is then' no heart to say, God pity thee! thiak not of tlie>0 j think <.l Iliai whom thou wor.shippe^t, tlie Cruciii^'d who also, trcadiiii;' t'le wine-press alone, Ironted .sorrow still drejier, and triuinplied over it, and mido it lioiy, and built of it a '-sanctuary of .'^on-ow" for thee and ali tliLs wrotchod. Tiiy p tli of tii'irns is niuh tiKJcd ; one ion;;- la.>-t look at the Tuilerhs, where tliy st p was ouco t^o li.:ht— where tiiy children shall not dwi'll. Tlij l;e,;d ig on the block; the axe ru.shes — dumb lies tlic world; that wild- yelling- world, with all its madness, is behind thee. LABOUR. CARLYLE. [h, soft Ito visit I eye on which l)\it the \ ]:,!oom IVa-io'ht- he face lieh her death- eur:-'es 11 rink it lUc eye Two men I honour and r«o tldrd. Fir.st, the toil-worn crafta- m;tn that with eartli-made implement laboriously con((uers the earth and makes her man's. Venerable to me is tlic hand, hard and coarse: wherein notwith.'^tandint;- lies a cunninu' virtao, iiido- fb.'isibly roj'al, as of tliis planet. Venerablr, too, i^s tlio ru^rued face all we ither tanned, besoiled, with his rude int?liii;i'nce ; for it is the face of a man living man-like. Oh, but t'lo more wner ble fur t!iy nidcness, and even because we must p'ty a.s well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us wis thy bek -o b.'Jit, for \x% were thy straight limbs and fiuiiers so deformed ; tliou wert our conscript on whom the lot fell; and fi.rhtini:- our b tties wort so marred. For in tliee, too, lay a God-created i'orm, bui it wis nol to !».! unfolded; eneru>te 1 mu,-t it stuid with the thick dhesions and del' cements of labour; and thy body, like thy soul Wus not to know freedom. Yet toil on, toil on: thou art ia t.iy duty, be out oi' it who may; thou toilest for the altogether in...ispensable daily bread. A >eeond man I honour, and still more hiiddy, l.im wl o i-; seen toiliiiL; lor the spiritually indi.-jiens able — not daily br;' d. but the bre.d of life, l.s not he, too, i!i his duty; endeavouii]) r towards iiiv.'ard harmony; revealin;^' this, by act or by work t'lrougli all his out.vard endeavours, be t:.*.y idgh or low? lii-Iie^-t of all when hi;5 outward and his inw rd endea\ours are one: wlun we can n iuie him artist; not earthly craftsman only, but ins[;ircd tlanker. who with heaven-made implement concjuers heaven ibr us I li tile i^oor uud humble toil that we have food, must not the high . .n * ■ » ■■■ Mtm wm w p. 1 1* k ' U 4» • 180 MiBcellaneous Prose Selections. > 1 and glorious toil for him in return that lie may have light, guid- ance, freedom, immortality? These two, in all their degrees, I honour ; all else is chaft' and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth. *^ i^ ^1^ ^P '^ *!* There is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in work. Were he ever so benii'litcd, or fori'ctful of his hi<>h callinir, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works ; in idleness alone there is perpetual despair. Consider how, even in the meanest sorts of liibour, the whole soul of a man is composed into real harmony. He bends himself with free valour against his task ; and doubt, desire, sorrow, remorse, indignation, despair itself, shrink murmuring far ofl'in their caves. The glow of labour in him is a purifying fire, wherein all poison is burnt up ; and of smoke itself there is made a brii^ht and blessed flame. Blessed is he who has found his work ; let him ask no other blessedness ; he has a life purpose. Labour is life. From the heart of the worker rises the celestial force, breathed into him by Almighty God, awakening him to all nobleness, to all knowledge. Hast thou valued patience, courage, openness to light, or readiness to own t!;y mistakes ? In wrestling with the dim brute powers of fact, thou wilt continually learn. J''or every noble work the pos- sibilities are diffused through immensity, uadiscoverable except to faith. Man, son of hoaven ; is there not in thine inmost heart a spirit of active method, giving thee no rest till thou unfold it ? Com- plain not. Look uji, wearied brother. See thy fellow-workmen surviving through eternity, the sacred band of immoibals. THE SCHOOLMASTER AND THE CONQUEROR. BBOCGHAH. But there is nothing which the adversaries of Improvement are more wont to make themselves merry with than what is termed the " march of intellect ; " and iiere I will confess, that I think, as far as the jjlirase g'x;s, they are in the right. It is a very absurd, because a very incorrect expression. It is little calculated to describe the operation in (^ue^tion. It docs not })icture an im ige at all resembling the pntceediiigs of the true friends of in inkind. It much nore resembles the progress of the enemy to all improve- ment. The conqueror moves in a march. II" stalks onward with the *' pride, pomp, and circumstance of war' — ])ann'jrs flying — shouts rending the uir — guns thundering — and martial music Miscellaneous Prose Selections. 181 pealing, to drown the shrieks of the wounded, and the himcnta- tions lor the slain. Not thus the schooLna^tcr, in his pcaeoiul voc.;tion. He uieditatesaud prepares in secret the plans wliich are to blo^^s mankind ; lie slowly gath(.:r,s round him those who ure to furthi'r their execution — he quietly, though lirnily, advances in his humble path, labouring steadily, but calmly, till he has oi)ened to the light all the recesses of ignorance, and torn up by the roots the weeds of vice. His is a progros not to be compired with anything liko a march ; but it leads to a far more Ijrilliant triumph, and to l.iurt'is more imperishable, than the destroyer of his species, the scourge of the world, ever won. Such men — men deserving the glorious title of Teachers of Mankind — I have found, labour- ing coifseientiously, though perhaps obscurely, in their blessed vocation, wherever I have gone. I have found them and shared their fellowship, among the daring, the ambitious, the ardent, the indomitably active French ; I have found them among the perse- vering, resolute, industrious Swiss; I have found tiiem amougthe la])oriou.s, the warm-hearted, the enthusiastic Germans; I have found them among the high-minded, but enslaved Italians ; and in our own country, God be thanked, their number everywhere abound, and are every day increasing. 'I'heir calling is high and holy ; their f tmc is the property of nations ; their renown will fill the earth in after ages, in proportion as it sounds not far off in their own times. Each one of those great teachers of the world, possess- ing his soul in peace, performs his appointed course; awaits in patience the fulfilment of the promises ; and, resting from his labours, bequeaths his memory to the generation whom his works have blessed, and sleeps under the humble but not inglorious epi- taph, commemorating " one in whom mankind lost a friend, and no man got rid of an enemy." ;* ii . i - ii ? ADVANTAGES OF ENLARGING THE INTELLEC- TUAL SPHERE OF WOxMAN. JOHN BTUART MILL. One great benefit to bo expected from giving to women the free use of their faculties, by leaving them the free choice of their cujployments, and opening- to them the same field of occupation and the same prizes and encouragements as to otlier human beings, would be that of doubling the mass of mentd ficulties available for the higher service of humanity. Where there is now one person qualified to benefit mankind and promote the general im- provement as a public teacher, or an administrator of some branch w V t >%y> 1S2 31180 ellaneous Prose Selections. - 1-.'' .' I. .V m ■ '' .'.t a ol' public or Koci ;1 afiairs, there would tlion be a cli ;nco of two. Wcut.i .siijK riority of ;;ny kind is ;it present everywhere? so much below the (lernaid; there is sucii >i dc;lieioiicy of persons eoiiipt'tent to do cxctlicntly anytaini;' wliicli it re(i;iircs any consj i.,r.djlo amouiit of ..bility ti) do; t!iat tli^j loss to V,\(\ worl I, by r\^'asing to iir;ke uf^a of orjo h.ilf ol' tlie whob qu.intity of ( d iit it pos- eessjs, is cxtrenicly serious. It is true that tins amoutit oi' uicuLil power is not t itiily lost; much of it is einiiloycd, and wonld ia any case bo eui[)luyed, in domestic m,ma^;!;L'm.nit, and \a t!ic few oceu[) itions open to women, and frouj tlu renrdnd'.'r ia lirecfc beneiit i^ i:i m uiy individual c.isjs obtdncd tlirou^h the pursoual iniluence of individu>d women over individud men. Dub these bene.its are partial; tlieir raige is extrcmdy cireum-^erib.d ; and if tlioy must be admitted, on t;ie one hand, as a dcductioa from the . laouiit of fresh social power that would bo acquired by ';iviag fr«edoiu to onedialf of the whole sum of hum in intellcefe. thero mu t be added, on the ot!ur, the bcielits of tlie i.-timulas that woul I be given to the intellect of men by the compititioa ; or (to use a more true expression) by t'ae necessity th.it would bo imposed on them of deserving precedency before they could expect to obtain it. '^i-x^i great accession to the int.'llectual power of the species, and to t!ie amouiit of intjllect av.alible for the good mui r.ix'mont of its ailairs, would be obtained, partly througli the btt'ranJ more complete intellectu:d education of women, which would then mi\yco\\) purl 2)assa with that of men. Women, in gcueral, would be brought up eijually capable of underst 'aiding business, public aftairs, au*! the higher matters of speculation, with men in the same class of society ; and the select few of the one, as well as of the otlier sex, who were qualllied not only to comprehend what is done or thought by other,;, but to tiiiak or d isonutidng eo:Hi;lcr- able themselves, Wijuld meet with tliesame ficilities i'or imprin'ing and training their capacities in the one sjx as in the otlier. In this w..y t!ie widening of the sphere oi' action for women would Oi)evata for good, by raising their eduction to the level of that of men, and making the one participite in .dl improvem-nts m ido in t le other. But, indepoudcntly ol' this, the mere bre iking down of the b'.rrier v.ould have an educational value of tlie highest worth. TliG men getting rid of the idea tliat all the wider sub- jects of thoug'at and action, all tlie things whic'i are of general and not solely of private interest are men's business, from which women are to be warned ol" — positively interdicted from most of it, oldly tolerated in the little which is allowed to them — the mere consciousness a worn in would then have of being a liumau being like any other, entitled to chooso her pursuits, \v. lu would Ithat of UMclo down lii^-hcst •r .sub- t!;cner;il which mo.st tUcm liHdvUancons. Prose Sdcctxons. 183 urijod or ijivitod by t!io s-iuio iinbiciMTionts ;is Mny n!K> else to intoi'c.^:t hoi'self in \vh itevor is Intiirestln;;' ic\ liumiu b 'inus, cntitU;;! to cxiTt the shin- of iniJiioncj on nil luiiiiin cnnci'rns which buloii'^s to tin iu'lividuil ojuiiion whether sac ;itt"iuj)tod actu'd p;irtiidj);itl()n in them or not — tins ;d()!ic would elTect ;in iniincnse expansion of {\w f icultics of womk'ii ;is widl -is ciilir:^o inent wf tho range of their moral sentiments. — The Suhjeetion oj Woniai. DANTE AND 3IILT0N. MACAULAY. The dir.rnctcr of Milton was peculiarly di^tlngni.slicd by lofti- ness o!" t!iou,u-ht ; tli-it of J) inti; by intea ity of feeling-, lu every line of the J>ivine (Jonicdy, we di.-^eoru tlie asperity whicli i.s pro- duced by pride struu'^liug with misery, 'j'nere is perhaps no work ia tiie world so deeply aod uniibrudy sorrow! ul. Tiie mclaneholy of Dante was no I'ant.istie caprice. It was not, us f; r as .it.this distance of time can be judged, the eifect of external circuui'-t mces. It was I'rom within. ^Ni-itlier love nor ulory, neither the conflicts of the earth nor the hope of heaven, could dispel it. It twined every consolation and every pleasure into its oviu nature. It re-embled that noxious Sardinian soil of wliich th(! intense bitterness is said to have been jtercej-.tiblo even in its jioney. His nunvl was, in the noble language of the Hebrew poet, '• a land of darkness, as d.irkness itself, ami v.diero the li,4ut was as darkness!" Tiio ,qlooi« of his character disco- lors ,;!i the passions of mini and all the face of nature, and tin'j.0-; with its own livid hue the flowers of paradise and the G;lorios of the Kternal Throne. Miiton was. like Dante, a statesman and a lover; and, like Dant ', lie had ))een iiufortunite in ambition and in love. He had survived his health and his si,ii;!it, tnc coniibrts of ids home find tiie prosperity of his party. Oi tJie u'reat men by wiiom he had been distintjjuished on his entrance int > life, some h id been taken away from the evil to com. ; some had carried into Ibi-eiun clini;it'S t'i"ir uneonqu.'r.;ble hatred of op];res-ion ; soma were pinin;j;' in duu'.>'cons; and som) had poured forth their lilood on .sc liioids. Til; t hateful ])ro3cription — facetiously termed " The act fd" indemnity and oldivion" — had set a mark on the poor, blind, d'aserted poet, and held Idni up by name to tire Ji trod of a prollii^ate court and an incoust.iut pcaple. Venal and licou- ..in I I • ■ *%:■ i' • m I,!',-;'.': •it' .1 I", i'l ; p' |-. I'. ' . . ^.i;» »,. *V 1 |; 1^ i '.. hL ,:t 184 Miscellaneous Prose Selections. tious scribblers, with just sufficient tiilcnt to clotlic the tbousjlita of ii j)anil( r in the stylo of a bellman, were now tlu; fuvourito writers uf the sovcruiun and the ])ublic. It was a loathsome herd — which could be compared to nothiriL^ so fitly as to the rabblo ofComus; — -iirotes(juo monsters, half bestial, h;;!!' human — drop- pinii; with wine, bloated with gluttony, and reelinj^ in obscene dances. Amidst these his JMuse was placed, likt- tlu; chaste lady of tlje Ma:«(jue, — lulty, spotless and serene — to ))e chatted at, and ])ointed at, and grinned at, by the whole tribe of Satyrs and Goblins. ir ever despondency could be excused in any man, it mi;ht have been excu.scd in Milton. But the strength of his Uiind overcame every calamity. Neitlier blindness, tior jj;out, nor penury, nor aj:e, nor domestic afflictions, uor ptjlitical disappoint- ments, nor abuse, nor proscri{)tion, nor neglect, had power to distui'b his sedate and m ijestic patlenca. His spirits do not seem to have been high, but they were singularly eijuable. His temper was serious, porliaps stern ; but it was a temper which no suflcnni^s fious cou reuacr sullen or fretful. Such as it was. when, on the eve of great ovont-i ha returm^d from iiis travels, in the prime of health and manly bcnuty, loaded witli literary dis- tinctions and glowing with p itriotic hopes ; such it continued to be — wlien, after having experienced every calamity which is inci- dent to our nature, old, poor, sightless, and disgraced, he retired to his hovel to die I NECESSITY FOR THE DIFFUSION OF EDUCATION ^ IN CANADA. EEV. DH, M'CAUL. X HAVE said that the diiTusion of the blessings of education throughout the land is the ultimate end of the work which is to be pursued within these walls, — a work second in importance to none in the province, for it is destined to perpetuate its benign influences throughout successive generations. Yes, the stamp which education impresses, how^ever faint at first, or difficult of recognition, remains permanent and enduring, and continues indelible from age to age, — so that whatever be the national characteristics of the population of Canada, the influence of that system of instruction now established will be percei)tible in its dis- tinctive features. What mind can justly estimate — whit tongue can adequately express -'the benefits which must flow from such a diflusion ? What influence will it have in strengthening the Miscellaneous Prose Selections. 185 intellect, clcvMtin;;- tlio tisto, nnd curbiiipr tho passions . And oW liow ni.iiy jire tlierc who, if tlicy had hut h.id tho avcmirs of enjoyment thrown ojien to thcni which education prosent-t, would neV'-T have f'.dlen into t!io <:rovcllinj^ habits which have ruined butli tlicniselves and their families. IJiit in another respect, too, the difTusion of education nin-t exercise a most import nit influence throu;;liout tin; country. ^Vc live in times when the tendency is to a diil'u.sion throughout the masses of a .greater ninoinit of i)olitical privih';j,e than tln-y h ivo hitherto enjoyed. TJie times exi4 wlun tho majority (>f tho peo]ile must exercir.c [)olitical privileges, and, if so, of what immense import nice is it that the masses should be educated — that they .should know their rights and understand their ol)liL;.i- ti(»ns — that tliey should possess that power, which education u;i\'es, of jirotectinij; thiiuiselves ai^ainst political (»r reli;4ious imp'isturs — tkat they should dischari^e tliosc duties which our fri.'e constitH- tion assigns to them, with that independence and discrimination W'hic'i knowledge bestows and ibsters. 01' what cnnserpien e is it that our j)eoplc should understand and b.i prepared to show that they m lint iin their allegiance to the British Crown, and tluir adherence to the limiteil monarchy under which they live, iK^t through any anti({uated prejudices, nor yet through any tradi- tion ry veneration, })ut bcciuse they prefer that which they h ;vo, cutort .iijing the wcll-grininded conviction tliat xinder a govennn ait such as that of England they and their children vering the rivers and lakes ; if wc \yish to see our institutions settled and IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /q / f/. 1.0 I.I 1.25 12 m 1-4 ill 1.6 v] <^ /^ e. e}. VI .V^^:' V *^ .>'-' /. y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation «• # 6^ A- PC^ / t\'l tliwa — the p'ift.sesslon 0/ continued sdfritioii ; the /err of Jchnvih, this shall be thy treasure." — [^Bishup Lowth's Translation.^ THE PAST AND PRESENT OF CANADA. FROM "CANADA FIRST," BY W. A. FOSTBO, OF TOBOXTO. Onii past is characterised by somethini^ more than romantic attaclimont to a flajj^, or chivalrous devotion to an idea. Sentiment did not blunt the cdire of industry, nor sufferiniij i;ivo excuse for itihuiiss. Every breathino; spell of war t;avc the liusb imlman 0])portMnity. The sword and musket were exclKUi;:;e(l ior the pl()uj;h and sickle ; and a fruitful soil, feelin!;^ the warm ulow of peace, yielded a tz:rateful return. The forest echoed the ring of the axe and the crash of timber. Amid the solitirine;>s of the b ick-woods the sturdy settler was hewing out a home for h.imself and his f imily, with hunger and cold kept merely at arm's length. Between him and his nearest neighbor, miles of dark forest inter- vened. The traveller or trader picked his way across tangled brushwood and f dlen timber, or tramped wearily over a track- less wilderness of snow, finding few finger-posts by tlie road- side to poiut out the dircctiou he wished to take. All kinds of Miscellaneous Prose Selections, 187 ficltl work wore done by hand, for there were very few oxen and Btill ibwer horses. lu 1789, the mails left Upper C m i(I:i for Eni;l Mul about twlcn a year, rio that epistolary effort was not much tiixod. For years the only road from Lower Can.d i wis by the St. L iwrcnci^, tlie rapids boin:^ ascended by cinocs and biteaux ia ten or t.volvo days, until the flat-bottomi-d Durham boats, i-t'cred with a t Ml f();.»t p >ie and pushed alon^r by two men on ocli side, came i;it) usj. We can read in the York G iz<:fte, of Aj)rll 29th, 1815, tint the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir Goori^e Murray, Kt., arrived at York from Burl in. 'ton, in a birch canoe. But none of us ncj 1 1^0 far to learn all about the hardships of the c irly settlers, for witnesses are still among us who passed throuijh t'le ordeah Now we cm afford to look back with some degree of complacency, for industry has produced abundant fruit, and we are reaping in joy a harvest sown in tears and trouble. As firm after firm was rescued Irom native wildness, schemes cf internal improvement, first viewed as shadowy impossibilities, grew into reality, while the bounteous yieM of a virgin soil sent new life into every artery of trade. Land was gradually freed from the tight-locking folds of rap eious hydras, and the b irnacles tli;!t f ittened o!i t'le ollices of state were torn from the vitals of the country. What has been the re-;u't? In 1312, the population of Canada was 28l>,000; to-day L'mida has over f)ur millions of people. In 180L), the value of the exports from the whole of the provinces was 6028.000 ; last yeir our exports were over seventy-three millions, and our impoits over seventy-four millions of dollars. In 1815, i\\\ (irst steamboat was built on Lake Ontario; to-day Canada is t!io t'aird maritime power in the world, with ai.c million tons entered inwards, andy?yc million tons entered outwards, engaged in carry- ing on our trade. In 1851, Canada had but (if'tv-tive mii(;s of railway ; to-day there are three thousand miles in operation, several liundreJs of miles under construction, and a scheme on foot t ) build 2500 miles monj that will present a route between Eniiliu 1 and Japan, 1100 miles shorter than by New York and San Francisco, and give us a contiimous line of four tliousmd miles across tlie continent. We possess a system of cinds the most compl.'te in the workl^ that cost us twenty millions oi' dollars, — so coiujiletc, indeed, that President Grmt looks upon it as part of the St. Lawrence navigation. The aggregate of our banking; capit d is over thirty-six millions of dollars, ani] the savings of our people, represented by deposits in our monetary institutions, amount to about sixty-four millions. We have coal in Nova Scotia, on the Atlantic ; coal at the Saskct- chew an, in the heart of the continent, and coal at Vancouver's Island, on the Puciiio. We have minurul wealth as varioui) us our i*< I; ii 188 Miscellaneous Prose Selections. needs, and, in extent, boundless. We have at our doors exhaust- lees fisheries, the richest in the world, furnishin;r an annual yield estimated at twenty million dollars to tlic various countries en;t and wci,ij,lity emj»l<»ynu'nt.s of the I iii'^ddin. But if it be onee admitted that a councillor, delivcrin,^ his oji-'iona with Others -it the council-table, under an o.ith of .secrecy and I'iitliful- ness, shall be brou^^ht into (jueHtLm U[)on some mis.ipprehnision or iifnoraiice (j1" law, — if every word that he speaksfroui a !-itieere and nobie intention shall bo drawn ai^ainst him lor tho utt tintln::; of him, his chil Iren and posterity, — I know not any v.ise or noble jioiMon oi' fortune who will, upon such perilous and uns.le terms, adventure to be councillor to t!ic Kin,i< I Opinions ni y make a hcntie, but that they make a traitor I have never lie )r 1 till now. My Jjord:', what I forfeit my sell" is not'ain;j; ; but th t my indis- cretion i^houlvl extiend to my posterity, wonndeth mt ;'!id unjust. If you tikeaw.y tin; liw, all thiuj-s will fall into ;i eoni'usion. Every nmn will b^-conu u l.iw to himself, which, in the de[)raved condition of hum m nature, nui-t needs produce m my great enorniities. Lu>t will become a liw, aud envy will b 'Come a liw; covetousnes.s and ambition will b enmo law.s; and w!i:tt dietites, w'lat (l-cisions, ..such 1 iws will j)rty. is inconsistent wit!i tlie pence, the wealth, the prosp.>rlty, of a nation ; it is destructive to justice, t!ie m'>ther of peace ; to indu t! y, the .spr ill' of wealth ; to valor, which is t!ie active virtue wh Toby only the prosperity of a nation can be pro lueed, contirmed, and enl irLi'cd. It is the end of {government, t!i:t virtue fihould be cherished, vice sui)prc.sscd ; but where this arbitrary and utdiiiiiti^l power is set up, a way is open, not only for the security, hnl for the adv mceiuont and cncour i_^emeiit, of evil. It is t!io end of Goverimient, that all accidents and events, all counstds ;n»d designs, should be improved to the public uood ; bui this arbitrary power would dispose all to the inaiutenauco of itself. now PATRIOTS MAY BE MADE. Sm ROBERT WALPOLE. BOa:» 1'j7G ; DIED ITl."!. ON A MOTION FOR DISMI891NO HIM FUOM HIS MAJE.STV'S OOUNCir., I7t0. It has b'on ob-erved, Mr. Spcnkor, by several i;-<'ntleurn, in vindicition of this motion, that, if it .should be c irri'd, neither my life, liberty nf>r estate will be affected. IJut do tlie h<^norabl« {Tcntlemon con-^idor my character and reputation as of no moment? la it no imput ttion to bo arraigned before this House, iu which I n '■ ■ h'. i • 'II r r ' .c 192 Oratorical Selectiont, have fl it forty years, and to have my name transmitted to posterity with dis;^race and infamy? I will nut conceal my sentiments, that to be named in Parli iment as a subject of incjuiry, is to mo a m:itter of ^^rcat concern ; but I have the SJitisfaction, at the same time, to reflect tliat the impression to bo made depends upon the consistency of the charge, and the motives of the prosecutorg. Had the charge been reduced to specific alleviations, I should have felt myself called upon for a specific defence. Had I served a weak or wicked mast3 FROM BUSTON. In reganl to this speech, wo find \n the diary of Josiah Quincy, jr., ths following m'^morandiiin : ''Attetided tiio dubiiloi in tlio lioune of Lords. G.)<).l fortuui' sciivc me one of the bcit ))livcn3 for lioarinjf, an I taking a few minutes. Lord (/hatlmin ro'fore, at the Har or oe la'c. lie seemed like an old Roman Senator, rising with the dignity of ago, yet speaking with th. firit of youth." Dr. Franklin, who was also prc/!ont at the dobatr', said of this soeech, that " he ha I seen, iu the course of his life, somoiiincs eloquence without wisdom, and often wisdom without eloquence; m th'J present instance, ho saw both united, and both, as be thought, in tho highest degree possible.'' —StrjenCs !S'.a>i«scnti;d lllctnxfd latcs throe to gililcd ;c of their irit, iiidad y Whij in they will . In this hco of (jrod lament of irhioh, infused throngh the mighty miis!^, pervadcn, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies, every part of the empire, oven down to the minutest member. Do you im jgino that it is the land tax which raises your revenue? that it is the annual vote in the oommlttoo of supply which gives you your army? or that it i^ the Mutiny Bill which inspires it with bravery and discipline 7 No! Sur.iy no I It is the love of the poople ; it is their att lolim jnt to ili-'ir Government from the sense of the deep stake they have in atach a glorious institution, which gives you your army and your n iry, and infuses into both that liberal obedience, without which your array would be a base rabhle, and your navy nothing but rotten timber. All this, t know well enough, will sound wild and chimerical to the profane herd of those vulgar and mechanical politicians who have no place among us ; a sort of people who think that nothing exists but what is gross and material ; and who, therefore, far from being qu ilificd to be directors of the great movement of empire, are not fit to turn a wheel in the machine. But, to men truly initiated and rightly taught, these ruling and master principles, which, in the opinion of such men as I have mentioned, have no substantial existence, are, in truth, everything, and all in all. Magnanimity in politics is not seldom the truest wisdom ; and a great empire and little minds go ill together. Let us get an American revenue, as we have got an American empire. English privileges have made it all that it is; English privileges alone will make it all it can be 1 Do not a shilling I fjhts asso- grapple to :; as links nmcnt may s gone, tUe liuation as i your suf- 11 the great make your J arc, it is ir life and mstitution, PATRICK HENRY'S ADDRESS TO THE AMERICAN CONGRESS. [Tlonry wag an American patriot, who distinguished himself by speeches opposing Great Britaia, at the breaking out of the rerolutiouarj war.] Mr. President, — It is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope ; we are apt to shut our eyes against the painful truth, and listen to the song of that syren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to bo of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears hear not» the things which so nearly concern our temporal salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and to provide for it 108 Oratorical Selectiont. • t r? I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopt^s with which gentlemen hnvo buen plcused to .solace themselves and the House ? Is it that insidious nmile with which our petition has b?en lately received? Trust it not, Sir, it will prove a snare to your feet ; suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a ki&s. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Aro fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love ? Let us not deceive our- selves, Sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation, the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen. Sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Cm gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, Sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they c>in be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. jL»nd what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ton years. Have we anything now to off(?r upon iho subject ? Nothing. We have held it up in every light of wiucii it is cupaulti ; but it has been all ia v.uq. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms ehall we find which have not been already exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you. Sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could bo do!ie to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult, our yupplications have been disregarded, and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There ia no longer any room for hope. If we wish to bo free, if we wish to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our coutcst shall be obtained, we must fights— I rc^^^at it, Oratoneal Selecttom, 199 Sir, we must fip;ht ! An appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is till that is left us 1 They tell us, Sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it bo the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when u British guard shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inuctiou ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies siiall have bound us hand and foot ? Sir, wo are not weak, if wo make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that Avhich we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, Sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. Tliere is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle. Sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to tho vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, Sir, we have no election. If we were b;ise enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest : there is no retreat but in submission and slavery. Our chains are forged; their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston : the war is inevitable, and let it come ; I rope it it, Sir — let it come 1 It is in vain, Sir, to extenuate the m;itter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace ! but there is no peace I Thu war is actually b,.\gun I The next g:ilc that sweeps from the north will bring to our o ira tlio clash of resouu'ling arms ! Our bri'thren arcf already in the fiold! why stand we hero idle ! What is it that gentlemen wisli? What would they have? Is lifo so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be ])urehased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it. Almighty God 1 I know not what course others may take j but as for me — give me liberty, or give me death 1 ENGLAND AND AMERICA. BIK-JAMES MACKIMOSH. BORV 1765 ; DIED 1832. The laws of England, founded on principles of liberty, are ptill, in subst m"'', the code of America. Our writers, our statutes, the most modern decisions of our judges, are quoted in every court of justice, from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi. Eng- lish law, as well as English liberty, are tho foundations on which the legislation of America is founded. Tho authority of our jurid- [if *■ 1 ' :i ■• 200 Oratorical Selections. prudence may survive the power of our Government for as many ages as the laws of Homo communded the reverence of Europe, alter the subversion of her empire. Our luufj;uage is as much that of America as it is that of Enj^land. As America increases, the pjlory of the great writers of England iucrtiases with it ; the admirers of Shakspcare and of Miltou are multiplied ; the fame of evory future Englishman of genius is more wid.'ly spread. Is it unreasonable, then, to hope that these tics of birtli, of liberty, of laws, of language and of literature, may in time prevail over vulgar, ignoble, and ruinous prejudices? Tlicir itncoritors wore as mucli the countrymen of Bacon and Newton, of Hampden and Sydney, as ours. They are entitled to their lull sh.ire of that inheritance of glory which has descended from our common Ibro- fatlicrs. Neither the liberty of England, nor her genius, nor the noble language which that genius has consecrated, is wortliy of their disregard. All these honors arc theirs, if they choose to preserve them. The history of England, till the adoption of counsels adverse to liberty, is their history. We may still preserve or revive kindred feelings. The// may claim noble ances- tors, and we may look forward to renowned descendants, unless adverse prejudice should dispose ^Aewi to reject those honors which they have lawfully inherit3d, and lead us to envy that greatness which has arisen from our institutions and will perpetuate our fame. ; V^'n IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS, 1788. EDUCND BDBKE. The unremitting energy of Burke's appeals, in the prosecution of Hast- ings, was a subjoct of wonder at the time, and is a lasting memorial of Lid zoal in wliat, he believed an honest cause, for the admiration of pos- terity. Ilivsiiugs himself has said of Burke's eloquence agiinst him,—" For the iirst half-hoar, I loolcod up to the orator lu a reverie f wonder*; and during that time, I f^ilt myself tho moit culpable ma i on e.irth." The trial of Warren llasiings commenced in Westminster Hall, Feb. 18, 17 8. The whole process occupied ten years, from 1785 to 179j. Oa tlie '23d of April, 17t)G, Hastings was acquitted by a large majority of the Peers.— Saiyent's Standard Speaker, My Lords, I do not meau now to go further than just to remind your Lordships of this, — that Mr. Hastings' government was one whole system of oppression, of robbery of individuals, of spoliation of the public, and of supersession of the whole system of the English Government, in order to vest in the worst of the natives all the power that could possibly exist in any Government; in order to defeat the ends which all Governments ought, in com- mon, to have in view. In the name of the Commons of Englaudj y Oratorical Selections, 201 as many Europe, as much increases, h it ; the the fame read. Is f liberty, i3vail over •8 were as pdeu and [•e of that mon foro- 3, nor the worthy of choose to [option of may htill )blc anccs- ats, unless nors which , greatness tuute our 1788. on of Ilast- nemorial of Lion of 1)03- liim,— " For jadir*; and The trial 17 8. Tlio 3d of April, — Saryent's ,n just to )vcrumcnt Ividuulti, of |ole system )rst of the Ivernment j it, in com- I charge all this villany upon Warren Hastings, in this hist moment of my application to you. ]My Lords, what is it that we want here, to a great act of national justice? Do we want a cause, my Lords? You have tlie cause of the oppressed princes, of undone women of the lirst rank, of desolated iTovinces, and of wasted kingdoms. Do you want a criminaJ, my Lords ? When was there so much iniquity ever laid to tlie charge of any one? — No, my Lords, you mu:-t not look to punish any other such delinquent from India. Warren llastini's has not left substance cuoui'h in India to nourish such another delinquent. My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want ? You have before you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors ; and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world, does not behold a more glorious sight than that of men, separated from a remote people by the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral community ; — all the Commons of England resenting, as their own, the indig- nities and cruelties that arc offered to all the people of India. Do we want a tribunal ? My Lords, no example of antiijuity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of humm imagination can supply us with a tribunal like this. We commit safely the interests of India and humanity into your hands. Therefore, it is with confidence, that, ordered by the Commons, I impeach Warren Ilastinps, Esquire, of high crimes and mis- demeanors. I impench him in the name e-f the Commons of Great Britnia iQ Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betniyed. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Brit in, whose national character he has dishonored. I izipeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights and liberties, he has subverted ; whose properties he has destroyed ; whose country he has laid waste and desolate. I impeach him in the name and by virtue of those eternal laws of justice which he has violated. I impe;ich him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged, injured and oppressed, in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation^ and condition of life. vl N 9I{ Hk 202 Oratorical Selection$» MR. SHERIDAN'S INVECTIVE AGAINST MR. HASTINGS. Had a stranger, at this time, gone into the province of Oude, ignorant of what had happened since the death of Sujah Dowla — that mm who, with a savuge heart, had still great lifles of cli rao- ter ; and who, with all his ferocity in war, bad still, with a cultivating hand, preserved to his country the riclics whicli it derived from benignant skies and a prolific soil ; — if this stranger, ignorant of all that bad happened in the short interval, and observing the wide and general devastation, and aH the horrors of the scene — of plains unclothed and brown — of vegctiblcs burned up and extinguished — of villages depopulated and in ruins— of temples unroofed and perishing — of reservoirs broken down and dry, — he would naturally inquire, what war has thus laid waste the fertile fields of this once beautiful and opulent country ? — what civil dissensions have happened, thus to tear asunder and separate the happy societies that once pos.sessed these villages ?-^ what disputed succession, what religious rage, lias, with unholy violence, demolished those temples, and disturbed fervent but unobtruding piety in the exercise of its duties ? what merciless enemy has thus spread the horrors of fire and sword ? what severe visitation of Providence has dried up the fountain, and taken from the face of the earth every vestige of verdure ? or rather, what monsters have sfvlked over the country, tainting and poisoning, with pestiferous breath, what the voracious appetite could not devour ? To such questions, what must be the answer ? No wars have rav igcd these lands, and depopulated these villages — no civil dis- cords have been felt — no disputed succession — no religious rage, no merciless enemy — no affliction of Providence, which, while it scourged for the moment, cut oflF the sources of resuscitation — no voracious and poisoning monsters ; no ! all this has been accompliished by the friendship, generosity, and kindness of the English nation. They have embraced us with their protecting arms, and, lo ! — those are the fruits of their alliance. What, then ! shall we bo told, that, under snch circumstances, the ex:is- perated feelings of a whole people, thus croaded and spurred on to clamor and resistance, were excited by the poor and feeble influence of the Begums? When we hear the description of the fever paroxysm — delirium, into which despair had thrown the natives, when, on the banks of the polluted Ganges, piinting for death, they tore more widely open the lips of their gaping wounds to accelerate their dissolution ; and, while their blood was issuing, I • Oratorical SelectionB, 203 [ST le of Oude, ih DowU — 3 of cli^rao- tlll, with a cs which it lis str;m;:^cr, nterval, and a horrors of iblcs burned in ruins — of 1 down and IS laid waste country ? — asunder and s viUap;es ? — with unholy fervent but lat morciless Ivord ? what buntain, and verdure? or taintinf* and ous appetitu wars have no civil dis- ijj^ious rage, ich, while it citation — no has been dness of the protecting nee. What, jce, the exaa- purred on to ■ and feeble ption of the thrown the piinting for jiping wounds was issuing, IS ir presented their ghastly eyes to heaven, — breathing their last and fervent prayer, that the dry earth might not be suflFered to drink their blood, but that it might ri.se up to the throne of God, and louse the eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of their country: — Will it bo said that this was brought about by the incaut ;tiou8 of those Begums, in their scolued Zenana? or that they could inipire this euthu-siastn and this despair, into the breusto of a people who felt no grievance, and had suffered no torture ? What motive, then, could have such influence in their bosom? Wliat motive I That, which Nature — the common parent — plants in the bosom of m;in ; and which, though it may be le.'^s active in the Indian than in the Englishman, is still con-! genial with and makes part of his being — that feeling which tells him, that man was never made to be the property of man ; but that when, throMgh pride and insolence of power, one human cre.ituro dares to tyrannize over another, it is a power usurped, and resistance is a duty — that feeling, which tells him that all power is delegated for the good, not for the injury, of tho people ; and that, when it is converted from the original purpose, the compact is broken, and the right is to be resumed — That principle, which tells him, that resistance to power usurped is not merely a duty which he owes to himself and to his neighbour, but a duty which he owes to his God, in asserting and maintaining the rank which He gave him in the creation ! — to that common God, who, where He ^«ives the form of man, whatever may be the complexion, tnves aLo the feelings and the rights of man — That principle, which neither the rudeness of ignorance can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish — That principle which makes it base for a man to suffer when he ought to act — which, tending to preserve to the species the original designations ojf Providence, spurns at the arrogant distinctions of laan, and vindi- cates the independent quality of his race 1 it it I .J •I ■ !■*, ■1 ,; !»;■ 204 Oratorical Selections. DECLARATION OF IRISH BIGHTS, 1780. HBMBT QBATTAN. Henry Qrattan, one of the moat renowned of Irish oratow, was born in Dublin, on the Srd of July, llii, and died in 1820. In December, 177;'), ho took. Ills scat in tlie Irish lluusc of Commons ; and from that time till 1600. he (igiircd politically in that body cbiefl/. Th* Iriih K«Tolutiou of 1782 was carried mainly by his cITortJ. Alth(m-upnl3', — I c iniiot hclj) tiiinkin^ tiiat bo ou^lit to liavo rocoUeeto I (bo many lields <•!' Dght in wliicli wo bav(! bc;'ji contributors to jii.s renown. '• Tlie bittles, >-iji:os, IbrtuiK M that bo has pas-^od," ou^bt to have eoju'^ b c'c u;)')m iiiin. II(! ouLjht to have ri.'iueiubered tbit, from the oirlie>t achi 'veni -nt in whieh lie displayed that military genius wliieb baa pi icod liim ^brem(»^t in tho annals ol' niodcr!i warfare, down to that last and surpassing combat wliieh has made bis u uno imj) ri^b iblc, — iVom Assayo to Waterloo, — tho Irish soldiers, with wiioin your arniios arc liJlod, wero the inseparable auxiii iri.s to the glory wit!i which his uiii):iralleled successes have been crcjwned. Whoso wero the arms that drove your bayonets at Vimiera through the phal mxe3 that never reeli'd in tho shock of war b.foro ? What tlcsper ato valor climbed the steeps and lillcd the moats at Badajos ? -•= All bis victories should liavo rushed and crowded back upon bis memory, — Vimiera, Badajos, Salamanca, Albuera, Toulouse, and,, last of all, tho groate^;t . Tell me, — fur yai wero there, — I ajipeal to the gdlant soldier before me (Sir llonry Ilarduige), from whoso opinions 1 dilfer, but who bears, I know, a generous heart in an intrepid breast ; tell mc, — for you iuu>t needs remem- ber, — on that day when the destinies of mankind were trrmbling in tho balance, wbiio death fell in showers, wIimu the artli^jry of Franca was levelled witb a precision of the most dwadJy sci-Miee, — when her legions, incited by tiic voice and in>|iired by the examplo of their mighty loader, ru.sbed tigain and agaki to the onset, — tell me il', for an instant, when to besit;te for an instant was to b:^ lost, tho *' aliens " blenched? And when, at length, the moment for the last and decided movement bad arrived, and the valor which bad so long been wisely checked was, at last, let loos.^, — when, witb words familiar, but immortal, t'ac great captain com- manded the groat assault, — tell mo if Catholic Ircl uid witii I '.-s heroic valor than the natives of this your own glorious country precipitated herself upon tho foe ? The blood of England, ^^eot- land, and of Ireland, flowed in the same stream and dronch;'d the sumo field. When the cbill morning dawned, their dinid l.iy cold and stark together; — in the some deep pit tucir bodies wero * Pronounced Ba-dah-yhot. O 210 Oratorical Seleciions, dcpo-tifc-'d ; thu j^roon corn oP sprln; i^ now broikln'nf from their C()iuiuiiij;lu'.l (lust; tht! (low laHs i'vmn liciveu upon tlufir union in til ! ii,ri\o l*ii-tiki;rs in ovory imril, in tiio ;rlory hUuII wo not bo p,!iiuitt.!(l t) pirtioipiti ; and sli.iil wa h) told, tn a njcjuitd, that wu ;ir.! e.stran^(!il IVoin tiio uoblo cou.itry Ibr who:so salvation our lil'c-blood \v.i8 poured out ? i «i THE LEGISLATIVE UXTOX, 1834 BIR nOBKIlT I'EKL. Bon.Nl78.3; UIKI> 13j0. I WANT no array of fi-uro'*, I \v;int no official documf^nts, I want no Hpjoches of nix liourn, to establish to my natisfiction tlio public policy of niiintainin;^ tho J^ciisl itivo Union. I fool and know that the rcpoal of it must livid to t!ie di-'tnombi-'rmentof this f.^reat empire, must make Gi-ett Britain a fourtli rate power of Europe, und Irid and a Hivai^c wilderness ; and I will ^ive, therofbrt', at once, and without hesititi(»n, an cmpliatio negative to the motion for repeal. There are triitlis whicli lie too deep for ar:^unicnt, — truths, to tlie cstiblishmont of which the evidence of tho senses, or the feelini^s of the heart, havo contributed ujore than tho slow process of reasoninj^; — whicli are graven in deeper characters than any thtit reason can cither impress or eflfic \ When Doctor Johnson was asked to refute tho arguments for the non"Cxistc;ice of matter, he stamped his foot upon the jj;round, ;.nd exclaimed, '* I refute thorn thus." When Mr. Cannini; he ird the first whisper in this House of a rcp(!al of the Union, this was all tho answer he vouch- Baf'd, — tlic eloquent and indi'^n ant answer, tho tones of which arc Btill familiar to any car,—" Kepeal the Union ? llcstore the Hep- tarchy ! " Thirty-three years ii ive now elapsed since tho passing? of the Act of Union; — a short p-riud, if you count by the hipso of time; but it is a period into whie'i tho events of centuries liave been crowded. It includes the conim 'ncoment and tlie closo of tho most tremen- dous conflict whieh ever desolated t!ie world. Notwitlii^t mding the then recent convulsions in Treliud, — aotwithstundin':^- tlio dis- satisfaction expressed with the Union, — the United Empire, that had been incorporated only three years before tho commencement of the war, escaped the Ccdtimities to which other nations were •exposed. In our <>\illant armies no distinction of Englishmen and Irishmenwas known; noneof the vile jealousies, which this motion, if successful, would j:;cnerato, impaired the energies which were exerted by all in defence of a common country. That country Oratorical Selectlom. 2U did not bestow its rowards with a partial hand. It did not, bccauHO tlicy Wi.iro Irlshiui'ii, jny ;i \ct wi.s transpl lut 'd, but it shot its roots deep in a richer and more congenial soil. Above all, to an Irishman — to that Arthur Wijlleshiy, who, in the cmphatio words of tlio learned gentlimin (Mr. 811011), '"eclipsed bis mili- tary victories by the splendor uf his civil triumphs" — to him was committed, with the unanimous assent and conlidenceof a generous country, the great and glorious task of eftecting the deliveranco of tho world. Who is that Irishman, who, recollecting these things, has the spirit and the heart to propose that Ireland shall bo defrauded for the future of her share of such high achievementi ; that to her the wide avenues to civil and military glory shall be hereafter closed ; that the faculties and energies of her sons shall be forever stunted by being cramped within the paltry limits of a small island ? Surely, Sir, we owe it to the memory of the illus- trious brave, who died in defending this great empire from dis- memberment by the force and genius of Napoleon, at least to savo it from dismemberment by tho iguoblc cucjiics that now assail it I ME,- (LORD) BROUGnAM ON THE STATE OF THE LAW. After a long interval of various fortune, and filled with vast events, we are agaiu called to the grand labor of surveying and amending our laws. For this task it well becomes us to begird our.sclvcj, as tho honest representatives of the people. Despatch and vigor arc imperiously dimianded ; but that deliberation, too, must not be lost sight of, which so mighty an enterprise requires. When we shall have done the work, wo may fairly challenge the utmost approval of our constituents ; for in none other have they so deep a stake. In pursuing the course which I now invite you to enter upon, I avow that I look for tho co-operation of the king's Government', and on what arc my hopes founded ? Men gather not grapes from thorns, nor figs from thistles; but that the vine should no longer yield its wonted fruit— that the fig-tree should refuse its natural increase, — required a miracle to strike it with barrenness. But, whether I have the support of the Ministers or no, to the House I look, with confident expectation, that it will control them, and m 212 Oratorical Selections. N'' !MI 1 'ii r ' ii assist, mc ; if I go too far, chocking my progress; if I go too fast, ;ibtting my speed; but heartily and honestly lielpiiig me, in tlio best and greatest work which the hands of the lawgiver cm undertake. Tiie course is clear belbre us; the race is glorious to run. You have tlic power of sending your name down tin-ongh all times, illustrated by deeds of higher f ime and more uso'ful import tli.in ever were done within these walls. You f-; iw tlio gre.t 'st warrior of the {.ge — conqueror of Italy — humbler of Gcrni;ny — terror of the North — you saw him {lecount all his m iteliless victories poor, compared wi«feh the tiium])h which you are now in a condition to win ! — saw him contemn the fi('ltloness of fortune, while, in despite of her, ho could i>ronouneo his memornble bo.st — " I shall go down to posterity with my code in my hand I" You have vaiujuished him in the fii-ld : strive now to riv.d him in the sacred aits of peace ! Outstrip him a.s a 1 iw- givi-r, whom, in arms, you overcime ! The lustre of the Hcgency will be eclipsed by the more solid and enduring splendor of the Reign. Tho praise which false courtiers feigned for our I'Mwirds and Harrys, — the Justini nisof tiieir day, — will be the jubt tribute of tlie wi.-e and the good, to tliat monarch under whose swav so mighty an undert.iking shall be accomplished. Of a truth, Bceptros arc cliiefly to be envied, for that tliey bestow the power of thiis conquering and ruling. It was the boast of AuiiUrtu-j — it formed pirt of the glare in whieii the perfidies (tf his earlier years were lost — that he found Home of brick, and lei'fc it of marble': a praise not unwortliy a great prince, and to which the present reign has its cl lims also. JJut how much nobler will bo our sovereign's boast, when he shall have it to say, that he liiund law dear, and left it che:!]) ; found it a se:iled book, — hit it an open letter; Ibund it tlie j.atrimony of the rich,— lel't it the inheritance of the poor ; found it the two-edged sword of craft and oppression, — left it the ;4;ft' of honesty, .and tlie shield of innoccuce! To me, much reflecting on these things, it lias jihvays seemed u worthier honor to be the instrument of making you bestir 3-ourselves in this high nrtter, titan to enjoy all that ollice can bestow —office, of which the patronage would be irksome incumbrance, the emoluments superlluous, to one, content, with the re;-t of his industrious lllluw-citizens, that his own ijands minister to his wants; and as ibr the power supposed to follew it — I have lived nearly half a century, and I liave learni.'d that pov»-er and place may be severed, liut one power I do jijize — that of being tiie a.dvocate of my countrymen here, and their fellow-laborer elsewhere, in those tilings which concern the best interests of mankind. That power, I know full well, no govern- ment can }.''"«? -no ciiange take uwuy I 't Oratorical Selections, 213 I THE FATE OF THE REFORMER, 1830. LORD BROUGHAM, I HAVE heard it saidth;it, when ono lifts up liis voico against tilings that a IV, an 1 wishes for *. change, he is raising a clamor a<^iiast existiii.^- institutions, aclamor ai^tiiist our venerable establisliiu^Us, a clamir a^iin>-t tlie law of the land; but tliis is no clanujj" a;j:;ain.st the one or tLe other, — it is a clamor against the abu^e of tUem all. It is a clamor r.iised against t'ac grievances that are felt. Mr. Bui'ke, wlio was no friend to popular excitement, — who was no ready tool of agitation, no hot-headed enemy of existing est iblish- meiit.-, no undorvaluer of the wisdom of our ancestors, no scoffer agaiu.st institutions as they are, — has said, and it deserves to bo fixed, in letters of j;old, over the hail of every assembly which calls itriclf a legislative body — *' Where there is abuse, there ouaiiT TO BE clamor; because it is better to have oua SLUMBER BllOKEX BY THE FIRE-BELL, THAN TO PERISH, AMIDST THE FLAME.-?, IX OUR BED." I havo bccn told, by some who have little objection to the clamor, that I am a timid and a mock reform M- ; and by others, if I go on firmly and steadily, and do not allow myself to be driven aside by either one outcry or another, and c ire for neither, that it is a rash and dangerous innovation whie'i I propound ; and that I am taking, for the subject of my reckle-s experiment'', thing* which arc the objects of all men's veni'ration. I disregard the one as much as I disregard the other of these charges. "False honor cliarras, and lying slander scares, ' Whom, but the false and faulty ? " * It h;is been the lot of all men, in all ages, who have aspired at the honor of guiding, instructing, or mending mankind, to havo their p iths beset, by every persecution from adversaries, by every misc!)ii avow his sentiments, and when his head must h ive answered for the b'ddness of his tongue. To argue against iimovations, is to argue against improvements of every kind. When the followers of Wieklitfe mdntained the cause of humanity and reason against absurdity and superstition, " No innovation," was the cry; and the lires of persecution blazed over the kingdom. " Let there be no innovation," is ever the maxim of the ignorant, the int>n-ested, and the worthless. It is the f ivorite tenet of t'le servile advocate of tyranny. It is the motto which Bigotry has inscribed on her banners. It is the barrier tliat opposes every imi)rovement, jioliti- cal, civil, and religious. To re;)robate all innovations on the Con- stitution, is to su})pose that it is perfect. But perfection was not its attribute cither in the Saxon or Normin times. It is not its attribute at the present moment. Alterations are perpetually necessiry in every Constitution ; for the Government should be accommodated to the times, to the circumstances, to the wants of a people, which are ever chaj;)sin<;. , . Oratorical Selections, 215 CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. CHAULES PHILLIPS. [Mr. Pliillipg wa3 a celebrated Irisli barrister — born in 1787; died about IS.JO. He wrote, tlie " Lite iiuil Untoiy of Ciirran ;" and at the time ol" his dcalii liliod ilio post of a (Jouimissiouer of Inaolveat Debtors.] Ue is (alien 1 We in.iy now pause before that splendid prodigy, whicli towered amongst us like some ancient ruin, whose frown tcrridod tlie glance its luagiii licence attracted. Grind, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne, a sceptred hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality. A mind bold, independent, and decisive — a will despotic in its dictates, — un energy tiiat distanced expedition, and a conscience pliable to every touch of interest, marked the outUne of this extraordinary ah;uMctjr — the most ttxtntordinary, perhaps, that, m the annals of the world, ever rose, or reigned, or lell. Flung into lile in the midst of a llcvolution that quickened every energy of a peo|ile who acknowledged no superior, ho conuueiiced Uis cour-e a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charJty. With no i'rieml but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he rushed into the lists where rank and genius had arrayed themselves ; and competition tied from Iwm as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but interest -he acknowledged uo criterion but success — he worshipped no God hut ambition ; and with an E i-tern devotion, he knelt at tlie alt.ir of l.is idolatry. Suh'idi iry to this, there was no creed that he did not prol'ess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate : in the hope of a dynasty he upheld the crescent; ibr the sake of a diriu'cc, he bowel before the Cross; the orphan of St. Lou-s, he became the adojited child of the reimblic; and witli a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the crown and the tribune, he reared the thronj of his despotism. A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope; a pretended patriot, he iiupoverished the country ; and under tlie name of Urutus, he grasped without remorse, and wore witliout shame the diadem of the OtDsars ! Tiirough this pantoiniine of his policy, fortune played the clown to his caprices. At Lis touch, crowns crumbled, beggars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest theories took the color of his whims ; and all that was venerable, and all that was novel, chatiged places with the rapidity of a drama. Even apparent defeat assumed the appearance of victory — his flight from Egypt conlirined his destiny — ruin itself only (devatcd him to empire. 216 Oratorical Selections. i*'\ m. «ij But, if Ills fortune was great, his f:;cnlus was tPanfrodiu;ies of his perform nice ; romiince assumed tlic air of instojsy; nor was there an^iit too incredible for ]>.'lief, or too fanc'ifid for expect ition, when tlie world saw ;i subaltern of Corsica waviuj; his impiirid fl \\i over her most ancient Cipitds. All the visions of anfci.^uity bec.imo connnon-places in his contempl stion ; kings were his peoj)lo — nations were his outposts ; and hedi-posed of courts, and crowns, and cimps, and churches, and cabinets, as if tliey were the titular dignitaries of the chess-board. Amid all these chan;j:es, he stood immutible as adamant. It mattered li-ttle whether in the held, or t!ie dra win <;- room — with the mob or the levee — wcarijig the Jacobin bonnet or the iron crown — banishins^ a Bray;inz;!, or cspou-inuj a irij)sbnr2h — die titing'' peace on a r.d't to the Czar of llu'^si i, or contemj>l.iting defeat at the gallows of Leipslc — he was sti'il the .same military despot. Cradled in the field, he was to the last hour Cwn darling' of the army ; and wlu;ther in the camp or the c.'.binet he niiver I'orsook a friend, or foriiot a favor. Of all his soldiers, not one abandoned bim till affection was useless ; and their first stipulation w.is for tho safety of their favorite. They knew well that, if he was lavish of thriu he was prodigal of hiaisell'; and that if he (^xi)osod them to peril he repaid ihem with jdunder. For the soldier, he subsidized every people : to the jieople, he made even pride pay tribute. The victorious veteran glittered with his gains ; r.ndthc capit d, gorgeous with the spoihi of art, b.'C imo the mini ituro metropolis of the univers(\ la this wonderful eombinatloii, his aflFoetition of literature must not be omitted. The gaoh r oi' the press, ho aflected the pitronage of letters: the proscriber of books, he encouraged philosophy : the persecutor of authors, and the murderer of printers, he yet pretended to the patronage of learning: the assassin of Palm, the silencer of De Staiil, and the dcuouuccr of Kutzcbuc, he waa tho friend of David, tho bene- Oratorical Selections, 217 ; dccislott 1(3 iind to aj^pc.ircd )ut. h\ liis riudicated 21- of his her never did not irn ; — :ind Finows, ho ity. ^ Tho udicity of i.sm bowed 'd tlic ;iir iof, or too of Corsica , All tho ^mphtlon ; ledi.-jiosed abinetSj a3 im:int. It pom — with tlic iron psjjuru'h — tciii] tinting le military llivj,' of the f'lr-ook a i.b.iudoncd hn w.is for if lie was lie ('X[)0scd sokli'.r, he Ipridtj pay r.ndthc liniui iturc liitioii, his 1, r of the •icribor of ^hov.s, and I'on.iu'O of and the bho bene- factor of Do Lille, and sent his academic prize to tne philo=?ophcr of Eiiiiland. — Snch a medley of contradictions, and at thi; s mio time such an individual consistency, were never united in the same character. A royalist, a republican, and an «*nip(ror — a Maliomiitm, a Catholic, and a patron of thesynagOLTue'-a tnitor and .i tyrant — a Christian and an Infidel — he was, throiiirh all Ida vicis-itndes, the same stern, impatient, intiexiblo origin. d — tho Bam^! n)ysterious, incomprehensible self— the man without a model, and \vitliont a shadow. His iall, like Ids life, baflleu .dl s[iocula- tiou In short, his whole history was like a dream to the world; and no man can tell how or why he was awakened from tho reverie. King-^ may learn from him that their safopt study, as well as their noblest, is the interest of the people : the people are taui^ht by him tiiat there is no despotism however stupendous, a-./mst which they have not a resource ; and to those who would rise upon the ruins of both, he is a livin;; lesson, that, if ambition can raise them from the lowest station, it can also prostrate them from the highest. DUTrOFTHE STATE TO EDUCATE THE PEOrLE. LORD MACACLAY. I SAY that the editCation of tho people ought to be tho first concern of a State, not only because it is an efficient mo.ais for promoting and obtaining that which all allow to be the main end of Government, but because it is the most efficient, the most humane, the most civilized, and in all respects the best mcins of attaining that end. This is my deliberate conviction ; ;;nd in this opinion I am fortified by thinking that it is also the ojininu of all the <;rcat legi^lators, of all the ureal stafci-m' n, of :.ll thi; ^reat poliiic.il philosophers of all ages and of all nations, even inehi'ling those whose general opinion is, and has ever been, to ri^striet the functions of Government. Sir, it is the opiidon of all tjie preat chau. pious of civil and religions liberty in tiie old vorld ;:nd in the new; and of none, I hesitate not to say it, more empliatic illy than of those whose names are held in the highest estimitiijn by the I'rotestant nonconformists of England. Assuredly if tlierv' be any class of men whom tlic Protestant nonconformists of England respect more highly than another, of any whose menu-ry they hold in deeper veueration, it is that class of men, of high spirit and unconquerable principles, who, in the days of Archbishop Laud, preferred leaving their native country, and living in tho 218 Oratorical Selections, :i If 'if ii eavapjo soUtndcs of a wiklerncss rather than to live in a land of prospcri'y .iml plenty, where they could not enjoy the privileges of worsliippin;:^ their Maker freely :iccording to the dietati-s of their con^ciellCc. Tho^e men, illustrious forever in history, were the founders of the commonwealth of Massachusetts, but though their lovu of freedom of conscience Wiis illimititble inid inde^truc- tiblo, they could see nothing servile or degrading in the ] rincipic, that tho St.ito should take upon itself the charge of the educitioa of the people. In the year 1G42, they passed their first legis- lative eii;;etuient on this subject, in the pieamble of whicli they distinctly j)ledged themselves to this principle, that educ.ition was a matter of the deepest possible importance, and the fjreutest possible; interest to all nations and to all communities, and that as Buch it was in an eminent degree deserving of the peculiar atten- tion of the State. I have peculiar satisfaction referring to the case of America, because those who are the most enthusiastio advocates of the voluntary principle in matters of religion turn fondly to that land as afl'ording the best illustration that can be anywhere found of the succe^slul operation of that principle. Aijd yet what do we find to be the principle of America, and of oil tho greatest men that she has produced, upon the question ? "Educate the people" was the first admonition addressed by Pena to the commonwealth he founded — " Educate the jjeoplo" was the lijst h'gacy of Washington to the republic of the United St.ttes — *' Educate the people" was the unceasing exhort .tion of JelTorson, yes, of JelTorsou himself; and I quote his authority with })eculiar favor ; for of all the eminent public men that the world ever saw, he was the one whose greatest delight it was to pare down the functions of Government to the lowest possible point, and to leave the freest possible scope lor the exercise of individual exer- tion. .Such was the disposition, such indeed might be said to be the mi.-sion of Jefferson, and yet the l.tter portion of his life was devoted with ceaseless energy to the cflbrt to procure the blessing of a Stite education for Virginia.* • Extractoil from a spcecli delivered in Parliamonr, in 1S47, in di f.>nce of til" (jrt)vernmenf jdan of education, which had met with great oppo- Bilion ("roni the Noncontbrniist body in Engltin \ No doul>t the oppositioa was conscientious, and probabl}- jus ifi- d by the efforts of tin; Conser- vative party lo secure for the E-tablislied Ohurcli undue control over the cdiicaiion of the people. Aptly, however, does Dickens n)ako the poor niollier, who-o son, the victim of ignorance, had hai'u tran^iiorted, reply to Ih" magistrate, in the Oil CuriosUi/ Shop — '• IJow many of the boys and girls, ah, men and women too, that are broughi before yon and you don't pity, nre deaf and dumb in their minds, and go wrong in that State, and are punished in tliat stute, while you ycnllemen are guarrelling among yourselves whether they ought to learn this or that ? " Oratorical Selections. 219 L land of rivilegea 'XaU'S of ry, were though ulotruc- riiiciplc, (lucitioa st logis- iich they itiou was greatest d thut as i;;r .'ittcn- g to the hu.-iastio jjion turn it c .n be principle. ;i, and of jucstion ? 1 by Pen a " was the St.'.tes — uDforson, ptculiar irld ever larc down it, ."ud to |u;il cxer- idd to be I' his life cure the In ill ft' nee reiit oppo- Ippositioa \.'. Gonser- iirol over iimkc the lu:;p(irled, lay of the I' yoii and Ig in that larrelling THE BALANCE OF POWER, 1826. GEORQB OANNINO. But, then, Sir, the balance of power ! Gentlemen apserfc that the ontry of the French army into Sp:iin disturbed tint b il.incc, and wi! ought to have gone to war to restore it ! Were there no other means than war for restoring the balance of power ? Is the bahincv,', of power a fixed and unalterable standard? Or, i.s it not a stand ird perpetually varying, as civilization advances, .'ind as new nations spring up, and take their place among established political communifies ? 'Iho balance of power, a century I'lid a half ago, was to be adjusted between France and Spain, the Nether- lands, Austria and Engl.uid. k^orae years afterwards, Russia assumed her higli stttion in European politics. Some years after that, again, Prussia became not oaly a substantive, but a prepon- derating monarchy. Thus, while the balance of power continued in ])iiuciple the same, the means of adjusting it bee uno more varied and enlarged. To look to the policy of Europe in the times of WiXiam and Anncf to re>, and her credit is so low tlint sho cannot borrow a shillinj: out of her own territories ; En-^l ml has a united people, national wealth rapidly increasin;jr, and a lu 'oh ini- cal and productive power to which that of Austria is as nnt'iinpf, Mi;^ht not Austria complain that wo hive di.sturbed the " bil tiico of power" because we arc f:^rowin'^ so much stronij^er from better government, from the c!;r eater union of our people, from the wealth that is created by the hard labor and skill of our ]»opulation, and from the wonderful development of the mechanic. il resoure 'S of the kini^'dom, which is soon on every side? If tliis phrase of tlio "balance of power," the meanini^ of which nobody can exactly make (Uit, irs to bo brou'^ht in on every occasion to stimulate this country to war, there is an end to all hope of permanent jieiee. There is, indeed, a cpiestion of a "balance of power" which this country miujht rci]i;ard, if our statesmen had a Uttlc less of tlioso narrow views which they sometimes arroir mtly impute to me and to those who think with me. It' they could tret beyond those old notions which belong to the traditions uf Europe, and cast their eyes as far westward as they are now looking eastward, tliey miiht there SCO a power growing up in its gigantic proportions, which will teach us before very long where the true " balance of power " is to be found. This strugLiIc may indeed b\gi!i with llus ia, but it may end with half the Ftat:\s of Europe ; for Austria and Prussia are just as likely to join wit'.i Russia as with England and France, and probably much more so ; and we know not how long alliances wliich now appear very secure, may remain so; for tlio circumstmces in which the Government has involved us are of the most critical character, and we ,st md upon a mine which luiy ex]tlo;lo any day. Give us seven years of this infatuated stru'jglo upon wliich we are now entering, and let the United Stat;^sre!u lin at pca.cG during that period, and who s'lall say what will th^n bo the rel uive positions of the two nations? Have you real the Report 1 of your own Commissioners to the New York Exiiibition? Do you comprehend what is the progress of that country, as cxhiblt-^^d in its tonnage, and exports, and imports, and mmiil'ic- turcs, ;;n(l in the development of nil its resource^, and the means of tran-it? Tlicre has been nothing like it hitherto under the sun. The United States may profit to a largo extent hy the cilamitios which will befall us; whilst we, under the mi-'a-ble and lunatic idea that we are about to set the worn-out Turkish Empire on its legs, and permanently to sustain it against tlie aggrcs- BioQs of Rus^a, are entangled iu a war. Our trade will decay and If I 222 Oratorical Selections, diniiiii4i — our pnnplo, sufTcrinir nnd di^oontontod, as in nl! former pcritols oi' w.ir, will cmi;viMtt^ in iticrt'asinir iinmbors to ;i cuiintry 'wrlioso WHO policy i.s to kocp itn-U' free iVoiu the cntaniilfiiioiit of Eiu-'ipuiu politics- -to ii country with wliicli rests tlic fircjit (jucs- tion \vli(!tl)(r Eii;;l.in(l sli;il!, for :iiiy lo'ii:; (inio, rcttiii tli;it wLiicb slic jirofi'sscs to valuo so hii^hly — her j^rcat su])eriority in imlustry and at sea. This wliolo notion of the "halanee of power" is a miscliicvous doliisioii which has coiiio down to us froiu past times ; we (niiht to drive it from our mimls, and to ectnsidcr the sol(>mn fiiic-tion of poac-'i or war on more clear, more definite, and on i!ir higher princii»le.s than any that uro iuvolvcd iu the phrase, the " b.ilaiico of power." • . . COST OF WAR. BitiaiiT. We all know and deplore that at tlie present moment a lari^o number of the prowMi men of Europe are employed, and a laraa portion of the industry of l!;nrop(^ i<; ab^n-bi'd, to provide lor and niaint;in the enormous arminunits whicji are now on foot in every consider.iblo Ciiniini.'nt d St ite. Assumini:-, tlien, that Europe is not nineh better in conserpienee of the sicritices we liave m ;de. let us iii(['iire what has been the result in Endand, bec.iuso, after all, that is tiie (juestion which it bocomes us most to consider. I bcrM.'ve tli.t [ uuderst.ite the nwn when I k ly that, in pursnit of thi.^ XA'ill-o'-the-wisi), (the liberties of Europe and the balance of power,) t'aerc lias boen extracted irom the industry of the ]ieopIo of this small island no less an amount than £2,00(1,000,000 sterling. I cannot imaijiine how much £2,000,000,000 is, and therefore I shall not attempt to make you comprehend it. I presume it is sometlii:i;4' like tliose vast and incomprehensible astronomic d distances with which we have been lately made familiar; but, however fimiliir, we feel that we do not know one bit inor(!;,!»out them than we did b.'fore. When I try to think of th.,t sum of . 1:2,000,000, 000, there is a sort of vision passes before my mind's eye. I see your psasant laborer delve and plou.di, sow an 1 re ip, sweat beneat'a the summer's sun, or grow prematurely old before the winter's blast. 1 see your noble mechanic, with liis manly countcnanc " and his matchless skill, toiling at his bench or his I'orge, 1 see one of the workers in our factories iu the nortii, a woman — a girl, it may be — gentle and good, as many of them are, as your sisters and daughters are — I see her iutcnt I Oratorical Selections. 223 upon the spindle, whoso revolutions are so nipiil thitthe eye fails altoLi'cth.T to (1 -tL'Ct them, or w.iteliinj; tlio altorujitini^ fli;^'lit oftho unro-tini^ sliuttk'. I turn a'^aiu to another portion of your popu- lation, which " plun,;e;iy ri l.irjrc .'iiiiouiit oftixcs — tlu; .'iinouiit of t.ixos would be but :i t'c'bU; indicition of wb:it you would sulTer. Our trade is tiMW nmch in(>r(; oxtoiisivo tliiin it was: our coinnjcTce is nioro oxinnli'd, our uiidcrt ikin'^s nro ni<»ro vast, and war will find yoa all "ut at homo by witlu'riiiL; up the rosourccs uf the prosperity enjoyed by the middle and worktn'^ claMscs of the country. You would find that war in 1 S5;j would bo iMfiiiitely more perilous and dest!'n(;tiv(i to our eouiitry tlian it has ever yet been at any i'ornier periml of our history. Tli(?re is another (juestion whieh comes lioin.) to my mind with ;i t^ravity and seriousness whieh I can ecinujly liopo to communicite to you. You who lived diu'inii; tho period from 1815 to 1822 m:iy remember tint this country was probably never in a more uneasy pf»-^eription, and the dilTicultics, and strnu'^ilcs, and buikrupteies of tho mid wnr now It \a not crcd, :md WA would )»ir trado in luoro 1 iind yoa prosperity ry. You rilous and ny i'ormcr ieli C()mc3 ich I can lurin'i; tho amtry was ic;3 of tho ultic?, and ncli as few r ill which ic country, s ciulurod. ' employed ine to t:iko irlin_L% two I j;ood and conncctioh bniners to will n;-:;ht ir to back deluded. Welling- I'row men t and pcn- IJKive tlius jntry, and That Hcvea lis to the Ibstr.itum, suiTering lic institu- it, that r, unjust, iubtitu- tion in the country. If the Corn-law liad continued, if it had been inipo'^sible, by pt'acel'ul agitation, toaboli-ih it, tho monarehy itscli' wmild Mot liav(! survived tin? ruin and disa.ster that it iiiust have wrought. Antlifyo'i go into a war now, Mithadouhled populitiou, with a vast cnnimeree, witii cxttiidrd cretlit, and a wire.sts so vast, and e- ;- quinces so much beyond their calculation. But, speaking hero in Edlnbunji to such an audience — on audience i»robably for itsmunbersa.s intelii ;eiit and .•iHiidluenti alas ever was assembl(,'d within the walls of any jiall in this kin,i;di)m — I think I may \)\\t beiore you higher considerations evcii than tiiose oi'propcrty an-e growing up in a soil which hitherto has beou deemed unlVuitfnl ; and, which will bo better than all — the churches of the United Kingdom — the churches of Britain awak- ing, as it were, from their slumbers, and girding up their loins to P 226 Oratorioal Selections. If ^"1 ' '' V •' more glorious work, when tlicy shall not only accept and believe in the prophecy, but labor earnestly for it3 fulfilment, that there shal? oomc a time a blessed time — a time which shtdl last for ever — when " nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more." NON-INTERVENTION POLICY. BRIGHT. "TiiE pnst events of our history have tanglit me that the interven- tion of this country in European wars \\i not only unnecessary but c;tlamitous ; tint we have rarely come out of such intervention having succeeded in the objects we fought for; that a debt of £800,000,000 sterling has been incurred by the policy which the noble lord approves, apparently lor no other reason tJian that it dates from the time of William HI ; and that, not debt alone has been incurred, but tliat we have left Europe at li\ast as much in chains as before a single effort was made by us to rescue her from tyranny, I believe, H'this country, seventy years ago, had adopted the principle of non-intervention in every case where her interests were not directly and obviously as-ailed, that she would have been saved from much of the paupcri.-TH and bi'utal crimes by which our Government and people liave alike been disgraced. This country might have been a garden, every dwelling might have been of m irble, and every person who treads its soil might hive been suiBciently educated. We should indeed have had less of m?litary glory. We might have had neither Tr.if dgar nor Water- loo ; but we should have sot the high example of a Christian nation, free in its institutions, courteous and just in its conduct towards all foreign States, and resting its policy on the unchange- able foundation of Christian morality. NON-INTERVENTION POLICY. OOBDKN. I AM especially anxious thnt we should repudiate and denounce the principle of intcrfcrcnco in the domestic affairs of indep-.nKlent countries. We boast that, with us, the house of every min who has not violated the laws of his country i;^ his castle, which ho who forces is a burglar. What shall we say, then, to the burghiry of nations, when one independent, self-governing State is invaded by Oratoriixd Selections, 227 eve in tUero or ever Qcitber .ntervcn- jsary bnt jrvcntion debt of fVicU the ,n tbatit alone has I much in Yjer from d adopted r intcvostd jhave been jy ^hich d Thi3 Ight have .i|ht have iSl lc>^s of lor Water- Christian ,3 conduct unchange- . denounce idep'.indcnt y mm who liichhowho _)ur(zlii*y of Kuvadcd by a neighboring and stronger nation, under the hypocritical pretext of the wc:tkcr country's advantage? Upon no principle of justice or right can a foreign power interfere, by force, in the internal affairs of another and independent State — and, uutil this is thor- oughly recognised and acted upon by the governments of the world, there can, practically, be no security against anarchy among nations. I say this equally as to the interference of Russia with Hungary, of England with Spain, of France with Rome. There has been, indeed, a doctrine admitted in this country, with relation to Hungary, which has affected me more poignantly than any political circumstance of recent date. It has been put forth from this country — not only by the press, but by the mouth of the ForcMgn Secretary — that, by the law of nations, the Austrian Government had a right to call on a neighboring power to aid it in putting down what it was pleased to call the rebellion of its people. Now, this is a question, not of the law of nations, but of the responsibility of the governors to the governed. The boy- Emperor of Austria, expelled from his most important territory, has the right, it is said, to call in the Cossacks to cut the throats of his own subjects. If this be admitted, there is an end of the rcspons-ibility of governments to Ijlieir people. In England we have maintiined, since 1G8S, the principle that the people are the sovereign source of power. Suppose that, at some future period — the supposition, under existing circumst mces, is impossible — the English people were to come into conflict with their sovereign, and that she was defeated, as was the case with the Austrian Govern- ment in Hungary, is it pretended that, in such a case, the sove- reign would be justified in calling in the Turks, for example, to her aid, as Austria had called in Russia ? Yet this Is the prin- ciple advocated by those who approve the Russian intervention in Hungary. A large proportion of the daiiy press of this country has been hounding on the Cossacks in their brutal invasion — their cruel treatment of a more civilized and freer people. I reflect, with humiliation, as an Englishman, upon the part which these journals have taken upon this subject during the last few months, and I implore the men now present, who represent foreign coun- tries on this occasion, to believe me when I assure them that these papers do not represent the public opinion or heart of this country. Let the Peace Congress, which is spreading its roots and its branches fir and wide throughout the world, proclaim these four cardinal principles in faith and heart — arbitration instead of war; a simul- t mcous reduction of armaments ; the dniunciation of the right of any nation to interfere, by force, in the domestic aflfiirs of any other nation ; the repudiation of loans to warlike governments. Let these cardinal points be adhered to, and, with the Divine _^ 228 Oratorical Selections, blessinp:, which cannot fail to be vouchsafed to so good a work, perseverance will ensure an eventual triumph to the friends of peace. \U\ BENJAMIN DISRAELI ON THE DEATH OP WELLINGTON. The Chancellor of the Exchequer rose, and while the Houj^ lent liiiii its deepest attention, spoke as follows: — " The House of Commons is called upon to-nij^ht to fulfil a sorrowful, but a noble duty. It has to recognise, in the f ice of the country and of the civilized world, the loss of the most illustrious of our citizens, and to oficr to the ashes of the great departed the solemn anguish of a bereaved nation. The princely personage who has left us was born in an age more fertile of great events than any period of recorded time. Of these vast incidents the most conspicuous were his own deeds, and these were performed with the smallest means, and in defiance of the greatest obstacles. He was, therefore, not only a great man, but the greatest man of a great age. Amid the chaos and conflagration which attended the end of the last century there rose one of those beings who seem born to master mankind. It is not too much to say that Napoleon combined the imperial ardour of Alexander with the strategy of Hannibal. The kings of the earth fell be- fur;j his fiery and subtle gonius, and at the head of all the power of Europe, he denounced destruction to the only land that dared to be free. The Providential superintendence of this world seems seldom more manifest tlian in the dispensation which ordained that the Freneh Emperor and Wcllosley should be born in the same year ; that in the same year they should have embraced tlie same profes,4o.i ; .md that, n.itives of di.^t mt ir:-lands, they should botli have sought their military education in that illustrious land which each in his turn was destined to subjugate. Daring the long btruggle lor our freedom, our glory, I ja;.j say our existence, Wellesley Ibught and won fit't'X'ii pitched bittles, all of the highest class — concluding with on,M)f those crowning victories which givo a color and aspect to history. Duritig tills period that can be Baid of him which can be said of no other captain — that ho captured three thousand cannon from tlie enemy, and never lo^t a single gun. The greatness of his exploits was only equalled by the difficulties he overcime. Ho had to encountci' at the same time a ibeble Government, a fictions Opposition, and a distrustful people, scandalous allies, and the most powerful enemy in tbo Oratorical Selections, 229 world. He gained victories with starving troops, and carried on sieges witliout tools ; and, us if to complete the fatality which in this sense always awaited him, when ho had succeeded in ere iting an army worthy of Roman legions, aad of himself, this invincible host was broken up on the eve of the greatest conjunc- ture of his life, and he entered the field of Waterloo with raw levies and discomfited allies. *' But the star of Wellesley never paled. lie has been called fortunate, for fortune is a divinity that ever favors those who are alike sagacious and intrepid, inventive and patient. It was his character that created his career. This alike achieved his exploits and guarded him from vicissitudes. It was his sublime self- control that regulated hia lofty fate. It has been the f ishion of late years to disparage the military character. Forty years of peace have liardly qualified us to bo aware how considerable and how complex arc the qualities which are necessary for the formation of a great general. It is not enough to say that he must bo an engineer, a geographer, learned in human nature, adroit in managing mankind ; that he must bo able to perform the highest duties of a minister of state, and sink to the humblest offices of a commissary and a clerk; but he has to display all this knowledge and he must do all these things at the same time, and under extraordinary circumstances. At the same moment he must think of the eve and the morrow — of his flanks and of his reserves : he must carry with him ammunifcion, provisions, hospi- tals : he must c ilculate at the same thne tlie state of the weather and the moral qualities of man ; and all these elements, which are perpetually changing, he mu.st combine amid overwhelming cold or overpowering heat : sometimes amid famine, often amid the thunder of artillery. 13eliind all this, too, is the ever-present image of his country, and the dreadful alternative whether that country is t"» receive him with c^'prcss or 1 mrcl. IJut all those conflicting ideas must be driven from the mind of the militiry leader, for he mxi^it think — and not only think — he must tliiiik with the rapidity of li:^'htning, for on a moment more or Ijss, depends the f ite of the finest combin.ition, and on a moment more or less, depends glory or shame. Doubtless all this may bo dono in an ordinary manner by an ordinary man : as we see every d ly of our lives ordinary men making successful minister's of st to. Bucccssful speakers, successful authors. But to do all this with genius is sublime. Doubtless, to think deeply and cloirly in the recess of a cabinet is a fine intellectual demonstration, but to think with equal dcptii and equal clearness amid bullets is the most complete exercise of the hura m i^iculties. Although the military career of the Duke of Welliugton fills so large a space in i El' R' Di P li* 1' m '^ V' 'I 'i m' 'a i( ftr' (4 ! B u It' %' I"!; 'i: 1' .p! 1 J[ 1) tfn 1 ^i cj .M y • f J 1 |: r 1; •ii 230 Oratorical Selections. history, it was only a comparatively small section of his prolonged and illustrious life. Only eiiiht years elapsed from Vimiera to Waterloo, and from the date of his first commission to the last cannon-shot on tho field of battle, scarcely twenty years can be counted. After all his triumphs ho was destined for another career, and, if not in the prime, certainly in the perfection of manhood, he commenced a civil career scarcely less eminent than those military acLievcmonts which will live for ever in history. Thrice Avas he the ambassador of his sovereijin to those great historic congresses that settled the afiairs of Europe ; twice was he Secretary of State; twice was he Commandor-in-Chief; and once ho was Prime >Iinister of England. His labors for his country lasted to the end. A few months ago he favored the present advisers of the Crown with liis thoughts on the Burmese war, ojEprossed in a st ite paper characterized by all his sagacity and experience ; and. he died the active chieftain of that famous army to which he has left the tradition of his glory. There was one passage in the life of the Duke of Wellington wliich should hardly be pissed unnoticed on such an occasion, and in such a scene as this. It is our pride that he was one of our- selves ; it is our pride that Sir Arthur Wellesley sat upon these benches. Tested by the ambition and the success of ordinary men, his cirecr here, though brief, was distinguished. He entered Koy d Councils and held a iiigh ministerial post. But his House of Commons success must not bo measured by his seat at the Privy Council and his Irish Secretaryship. He achieved a success here which the greatest ministers and the- most brilliant orators ciu never hope to rival. That was a parliamentary success unequalled when he rose in his seat to receive the thanks of Mr. Speaker for a glorious victory ; or, later still, when he appeared at tlie b-ir of this House, and received, Sir, from one of your predecessors, in memorable language, the thanks of a grateful country for accumulated triumphs. There is one consolation wliich all Englishmen mu>t feel under this bereavement. It is, that they were so well and so completely acquainted with this great man. Never did a person of such mark live so long, and 60 much in the public eye. '' To uomplcte all, that we might have a perfect idea of this sovoreiga m ister of duty in all his manifold oifices, he himself gave us a collection of administrative and milittry literature which no atsc and no country cm rival ; and, fortunate in all things. Wellesley found in his lifetime an historiitn whose immortal page already ranks with the classics of that land which Wellesley saved. The Duke of Wellington left to his countrymen a great legacy — greater even than his glory. He left them the contem • Oratorical Selectiont, 231 plation of his character. I will not say his conduct revived the sense of duty in Enirland. I would not suy that oF our country. But that his conduct inspired public life with a purer and moro masculine tone, I Ccinnot doubt. His c ireer rebukes restless VJiuity, and roprimunds the irregular ebullitions of a morbid egotism. I d^ubt not that, among all orders of Englishmen, from those with the highest responsibilities of our society to those who perform the humblest duties, I dare say there is not a man who in his toil and his perplexity has not somctim s thought of the Duke and found in his example -support and solace. " Though he lived so much in the hearts and minds of hi? countrymen — though he occupied such eminent posts and fulfilled such august duties — it was not till he died that we felt what a space he tilled in the feelings and thoughts of the people of Eng- land. Never was the influence of real greatness more completely asserted than on his decease. In an age whose boast of intellcc- tuul equality flatters all our self-complacencies, the world suddenly acknowledged that it had lost the greatest of men ; in an age of utility the most industrious and common-sense people in the world could find no vent for their woe and no representative for their sorrow but the solemnity of a pageant ; and we — we who have met here for such difierent purposes — to investigate the sources oJ the wealth of nations, to enter into stitistical research, and to encounter each other in fiscal controversy — we present to the world the most sublime and touching spectacle that human circum- st juces can well produce — the spectacle of a Sonute mourning a Hero!" THE BEAUTIFUL IN NATURE AND ART. GLADSTONE. (From a speech on "The Life and Works of Josiah Wedgwood.") Part I. Now do not let us suppose that, wlien we speak of this associa- tion of beauty with convenience, we speak citlierof amattor wliich is k!ght and fanciful, or of one which may, like some of those I hav^i named, be left to take care of itself Beauty is not an accident of things, it pertains to their essence ; it pi^rvadcs the wide rcmgo of creation ; and, wherever it is imp dred or banished, we have in this fict the proof of the moral disorder which disturbs the world, licject, fchcrefore, the false philosophy of those who will ask what does it matter, provided a thing hi usei'ul, whether it bo beautiful or not J and say in reply that we will take one lesson from r: i •i .iu :( 'I 1 1' 23-2 Oratorical /^elections. Almi^lity uod, who in His works liitli sliown us, and in Txis Wurd also iuitli told us, tint '* Hu liatli m idocvorytliin^" not 0113 thing, or another tbiui:,'. but cvoi-ytiiLju;^' "bu:iutirul in his tiuio." Aujon;^' all the devices oi'creation, there is not one more wouJcri'ul, whether it be the movement of the heavejily bodies, or the i^uo- ccssion oi' the seusona and the yeurs, or the ad.ipt.ition of tha world and its phenomena to the conditions of Uuni m Lf'o, or the structure ot the eye, or Lund, or any otker p irt of the frame of man, — not one of all these is more wonderful, than the profuse- ness witli whieh the Mighty Maker his been pleased to shed over the ivorks of His hands an endless and boundless beauty. And to this constitution of things outward, the constitution and mind of man, deranged although they be, still answer from within. Down to the humblest condition of life, down to t!ie lowest and i.iost backward grade of civilization, tLc nature of man cravcfs, jud "r.-n.^,, as it were, even t) cry aloud for somuthing, some sign or LoI<' v< t the loist, of what is boiutifnl, in some of the mniy spheres of mind or sense. This it is th it makes the Spitdllelds weaver, amidst the murky streets of London, train canaries aLd biiUflnches to sing t) him at his woric; tJiut fills wit'i flower-pots the windows of ilie poor; that leads the pcisant of Pembrokeshire to paint the outside of his cottage in lively colors ; that prompts, in the humble class of women, a desire for some little person il ornament, certainly not without its dangers, (tor what sort of indulgence can tiver bo without them ?) yet, sometimes. pcrhap.=!, too sternly repressed from the high and luxurious places of society. We trace tiie operation ol' this principle j'et more conspicuously iu a loftier region ; in that instinct of naturil and Christian pi 'tj whieh t:iug>it the early misters of the Fine Arts to clothe the noblest objects of our F.iith, and cspeeiaUy t!ic idea of the s.icred Person of our Lord, in the noblest ibrms oi' beauty that their minds could conceive, or their li nids could execute. It is, in short, difficult for hum in beings to harden tlicmselvcs at all points against the impressions and the charm of beauty. Every form of life that can be called iu any sen.se natural will admit them. I know not whether there is any one among the many species of hum m aberration, that renders ;i m:m as entirely callous as the lust of gain in its extreme degrees. That passion, where it has full dominion, excludes every other ; it shuts out even what might bee died redeeming infirmities ; it blind?? m»n to the sense of beauty, as much as to the perception of ju.stice and right ; cases might even be named of countries, where greediness for money holds dominion, atid where unmitigated ugliness is the principal chracteristic of industrial products. On the other hand, I do not believe it is extravagant to say, that the pursuit of the Oratorical Selections, 233 1 txlil otoue tiuic." Icviul, suo- of the or the imo of roluse- d over ion and ^YiL'^ia. 3st -.md fdi, .'ad sign or c ni my 1 illields -ies arid ivcr-pobs ■jrouipts, pcTrion-il sort of perhaps, society. ou -ii? r ':h !'>; r;M!ti -yi i^b4 Oratorical Selections. re<];ard to its value in exchanf;e, to the market of the place and day. A dustman, for oxami)lo, cannot bo expected to move Vvith the }jjrace of a fairy, nor can hid cart be constructed on tac lluvv- iug" lines of a Greek chariot of war. Nut but that, even in this unpromising dom.mi, Beauty also has her place. But it is limited, and m ly for the present purpose be left out of view. Then there is, secondly, the lofty sphere of pure thought and its ministeriu;^ organs, the sphere of Poetry and ^le highest Arts. Here, again, the place of what we term utility is narrow ; and the production of the Beautiful, in one or other of its innumerable forms, is the supreme, if not the only, object. Now, I believe it to be undeniable, that in both of these spheres, widely separated as they are, the faculties of Eoglishmen, and the distinctions of England, have been of the very first order. In the power of economical production she is at the head of all the nations of the earth. If in the Fine Arts, in Painting, lor exam[)le, she must be content with a second place, yet in Pov^try, which ranks even higher than Painting, — I hope I am not misled by national feeling when 1 say it, — she may fairly challenge all the nations of Christendom, and no one of them, but Italy, cau aa yet enter into serious competition with the land of Shakspearc. But, for one, I should admit that, while thus pre-eminent in the pursuit of pure beauty on the one side, and of unmixed utility on the other, she has been far 'less Ibrtunate, indeed, for the most part she has been decidedly behindhand in that intermediate region where Art is brought into contact with Industry, and where the pair may wed together. This is a region alike vast and diversified. Upwards it embraces Architecture, an art which, while it afibrds the noblest scope for grace and grandeur, is also, or rather ought to bo, strictly tied down t j the purposes of convenience, and has for its chief end to satisfy one of the elementary wants of man. Downwards, it extends to a very large proportion of the products of human industry. Some tilings, indeed, such as scientific instru- ments, for example, are so determined by their purposes to some particular shape, surface, and materials, that even a Wedgwood would find in them little space for the application of his principles. But, while all the objects of trade and manufacture admit of funda- mental differences in point of fitness and unfitness, probably the m tjor part of them admit of fundamental differences also in point of Beauty or of Ugliness. Utility is not to be sacrificed for Jieauty, but they are generally compatible, often positively helpful to each other ; and it may be safely asserted that the periods when the study of Beauty has beoB neglecied. have usually been m irked not by a more successful pursuit of utility, but by a general decline in the energies of man. lu Greece, the ibuntaia-head of all instruo- Oratorical Selections. 235 le and e ^vith ! lluw- 11 this uiitcd, lit and t Arts. iind tlio nerablo jphcveg, jiud the er. In 1 of all tiu;_', ibr Pootry, it uii.'-^lcd lenge all y, can a3 ;)carc. jincut in ad utility the most ttc region tion on these matters, the season of her highest historic splendor was also the summer of her classic poetry and art ; and, in con- teiu|)l;itiug her architecture, wo scarcely know whether most to admire 1. 10 acme of Beauty, or the perfect obedience to the laws of mecli mical contrivance. Tlie Arts of Italy were the offspring of hor tic:uJ()ui, and with its death they languished and decayed. la the patieulardepartmctit of industrial art, France, perhaps, of all modi 111 11 itiuiis, has achieved the greatest distinction ; and there is no country which has displayed, through a long course of Jigca, a more varied activity, or acquired a greater number of titles to renown. GllEAT MINDS IN TIlEIll HELATIONS TO CHRIS- TL\NITY. ERSKINE. In running the mind along the long list of sincere and devout Chri;^tiaus, I cannot help lamenting that Newton had not lived to this d ly, to liave had his shallowness filled up with this new flood of 11 ;iit, poured upon the world by Mr. Thomas Paine. But the subjjct is too uwful for irony. I will speak plainly and directly. Ne\vto!i was a Christian ! — Newton, whose mind burst forth from the letters cast by nature upon our finite conceptions; — Newton, whdsc science was truth, and the foundations of whose knowledge of it wai philosophy ; not those visionary and arrogant prcsump- tioiH which too often usurp its name, but philosophy resting upon the basis of mathematics, which, like figures, cannot lie ; — Newton, who carried the line and rule to the uttermost barrier of creation, auii explored the principles by which, no doubt, all created matter is luUl to^^ether and exists. But this extraordinary man, ia the mighty reach of his mind, overlooked, perliaps, what a minuter iuvestiiji; ition of the created thinijs on this earth miirht iiave taught him, of the essence of his Creator. ^Vhat, then, shall be said ol' the great 3Ir. Boyle, who looked into the organic structure of all matter, even to the brute inanimate substances which the foot treads on? Such a man may be supposed to have been equally qualified, with Mr. Paine, to look up through nature to natures Clod ; yet the result of all his contemplation was the mil t confirmed and devout belief iu all which the other holds ia conteinpt, as despicable and drivelling superstition. But this error might, perhaps, arise from a want of due atten- tion to the foundations of human judgment, and the structure of that understanding which God has given us for the investigatioa r- 236 Oratorical Selections, III Nil of truth. Let that question be answered by Mr. Locke, who vras, to the hi;i;he.8,n'y condition of ^reatne.^s; and, without being urcat, they cannot rem liu safe. {Smaller states, exempted from this ncces.sity, devoted themselves to the arts of peace, to the CuUivat^ion of litorature, and the improvement of reason. Tiicy became phices of refuse for free andlcarless discu.->siou ; they were th.! inijtartial spectators and judges of the various contests of ambitioD, whicli, from tiiuo to time, disturbed the quiet of the world. If wars of aggrandizement were undertaken, thoir authors Were arraigned in the sight of Hurope. If acts of internal tyranny Wore perpel?atcd, they resounded from a thousand pr;.'sses througli- Ciit all civilized countries. Princes, on whose will there were no legal checks, thus found H moral rc-traint whick the most powerful ol' them could not brave •with absolute impunity. No elevation of power, no depravity L(iWever cousununitc, no innocence however spotless, can render man wholly in lopendont of the praise or bl imo of his follows. The-ie feeble states, these monuments of the justice of Europe, the asylum of peace, of in lustry, and of literature, the organs of pul>- lic reason, the refuge of opprc-sed innocence and persecuted truth, bavj perished with those ancient principles which were their sole guardians and ])rotectors. They have been swallowed up by that fc.uful convulsion, which has sh iken the uttermost corners of the eartli. They arc destroyed, and gone I'or ever ! One asylam of free discus'-ion is still inviolate. There is still one spot in Europe where man can freely exercise his reason oa the most important concerns of society ; where lie can boldly pub- lish his judgment on the acts of the proudest and mo.4 ))0werl'ul tyrants. The press of England is still I'ree. Iti.^ guarded by the freo cuii-tii-ullwa of our Ibref itlicrs ; it is gutrdjd by the he ;rts :nd aniH (^Englishmen ; and, I tru.-t I may venture to say, that, if it bo to fall, it will fdl only under the ruins of the British E!n[»iro. It is an awful consideration, gentlemen! — every other monument of European liberty has pori.-hcd. That ancient fabric, which has been gradually roared by the wisdom and virtue of our fithers, still stands; — it stands, thanks bo to Heaven! solid and entire — but it stands alone, and it stands amid ruins I 238 Oratorical Selections. Ni, p» ^.M CONFEDERATION OP THE BRITISH NORTH AMERICAN PROVINCES. nON. THOMAS MaKB. All who have spokon on tliis poiu. havo said a good deal — as was natural — on tho inturosts at stake iu the success or failure of this proposed plan of Coul'oderation. I trust tliii House will permit mo to add a few words as to the principle of Confederation considered in itself. In tlie applicition of this to former constitutions, there certainly was always one f ital defect — tho weakness of the central authority. Of all the i'ederal constitutions I have over heard or raad of, this wna tlie fat d m dady — they were short-lived, they diu I ol" consumption. But I am not prepared to say that, because the Tuscan leat^ue elected it< chief magistrates for two months, and lasted u century, that therefore tho federal principle failed. Oa the contrary, there is sometiiin;j; in the frequjnt, fond racurrence of mankind to this principle, aui)) • tho freest people, in their best times and worst dan j;ers, tliat Ic me to believe it has a lirm hold iii human nature itself, an . /ent basis for a governmsnt to have. But indeed, sir, tho miiu question is tho duo distriba- tion of powers — i question I d ire not touch to-night, but whicli I may h-' prepared to say something on befbro tho vote is taken. The principle itself seems to me capaljle of being so adapted as to pro- mote internal peace and external sscurity, and to call into action a genuine, enduring, and heroic patriotism. It is a fruit of this principle that makes the modern It iliau look back with sorrow and pri 1^! over a dreary waste of seven centuries to the field of Legnano ; it was this principle kindled the beacons which burn, jrt on tho rocks of Uri ; it was this principle broke the dykes of Ilolland, and overwhelmed the Spanish with tho fate of the E :y;)tiau oppressor. It is a principle capable of inspiring a noble ambition, and a most salutary emulation. You have sent your young men to guard your frontier. You want a principle to guard your young men, and thus truly defend your frontier. Tor what do good m:!n, who mike tho best soldiers, fight? For a line of Scripture, or a ch ilkod line ; for a pretext or for a principle ? What is a better bjund iry lino between two nations than a parallel of latitude or oven a natural obstacle ? What really keeps nations intact and apirt? — a principle. When I hear our young men siy as proudly, "our Federation,'' or *'our Coiratry," or " our Kingdom." as the young men of other countries do, speaking of their own, then I shall have Isss apprehension for tho result of whtitevcr trials the future may have in store for us. It has beeu said that the Federal Coustitu- Oratorical Selections. 239 :n —as wa8 of this irinit mo asidcred 13, there 3 central lioanl or red, they ^ becausa nths, and led. Oa acurrcnce their best as a iirm )veram3iit J dlstriba- ut which I iken. Th3 as to pro- ^to action a iib of this jorrow and 2 field of hich burn, dykc3 of ite of the fm;^ a noble sent your [lo to gu \rd r'or what a line of principle ? ,rts than a hjt rovlly ,n I hear or li >our of other have lss3 iture may ll Oonstittt- tion of the United Stites hus filled. I, sir, have never said it. The AiL.»rnuy (jeMLTnl West told you the other ni^'ht th:it he did not consider it a failure ; and I reiu.'uibi'r that, in 180 1, when in thi'4 house I rem irked the s:iiue thiiij^, the only ui m who ih(»n appl.mdod the stitonierit wis the Attorney Generd West, so that it 11 pretty pi lin he did not simply borrow the arj;ument for uso the other nij^Iit when Iio wis advooiUn,^ the Fed'^rul unio;i anion^ oursclvos. It miy bea fiilure for us, piridoxicil as tliis ni ly seem, and yot not a f.iiluro for them. Tney hive hid oi,'hry years' uso of it, anl, h ivii^ discovered its defects, miy aj^ply ;i rcuu'dy and ixo on with it eighty yoars lonjfer. But we, also, ;iro lookjrs on, who siw itn defv;ct^ a? the m le.uQ* workijd, and who havj propired contrivances by which it can be improved and h'\)t in more perfect ord^r when applied to ourselvas. And one of tiia forii'm )St statesmen in I'j.ijjlanl, distin^uisiied alike in polities and liter iLurid, has doelired, as the President of the Council informed U3, tut we iivj om'oin^l the be^t pirt^ of t'le Briti:h iv.vl Ainjrioin systems of jj;overnm nit, and this opinion wis djlib t itjly formal at a diitmee, without prejudie,?, and cxprcsst)d withonb iot-'ivited motives of any description. Wo have, in relition to tlio heal I' the };^ov(>rnmint, in relition t") the judiciary, in ri^lition to t'le .sjc'ond dumb !r of thi lj.:;islitaro, in relation to the linin- cial responsibility of the ;:f3neral f^overnment, and in relition to the public otfieiils, whose tenure ofolfi3e is durin'^c^ood b^h iviour, insfcjid of ut the caprice of a pirty — in all these respects wo hive adoptel tlio British system; in other respects wo hive leirae I somithioL^ from the American systein, and I trust and boli>ive we have made a very tolerable combination of both. The principh of Fedorition is a generous principle ; it is a principle thib ^^ivos men local duties to di-jchar:^e, and invests them at the simj tiino with j^enerul supervision that excites a healthy sanso of responsi- bility and comproliension ; it is a principle that has prodno ; I a wise an I fcrue spirit of stitesmmship in all countries in which it has ever been applied ; it is a principle eminently fivorable to liberty, because local affairs are left to be dealt with by loc il bodies, and cannot be interfered with by those who have no locd interest in them, while matters of a general character are l-sft exclusively to a general government ; it is a principle coineidinb wit'a every government that ever gave extended and imporbs-.it services to a country, because all governments have been mora or loss confederations in their character. Spain was a fed_Tition, for, althoui^h it had a kinij reignini' over the whole countrv, it had its local governments for the administration of local atfilrs. The British Isles are a confederation, and the old French dukedoms were confederated in the States Qeneral. It is a principle that K^ :|ii i; '^ 1. i mi II i-- i 11? ■• it-,,. 240 Oratorical Selections, runs through all the history of civilization in one form or another, and exists alike in monarcliics tmd democracies, and, having adopted it as the principle of our iuturo government, there were only the details to arrange and agree upon. The two great things that all mem aim at in any free govern- ment are liberty and permanency. We have had liberty cnouuh — too much, perhaps, in some respects — but at all events liberty to our hearts' content. There is not on the face of the eirth a freer people than the inhabit.ints of these colonies. But it is necessary there should be respect for the law, a high central authority, the virtue of civil obedience, obeying the law for the law's sake ; even when a man's private conscience may convince him sufficiently that the law in some cases may be wrong, ho is not *o set up his individual will against the will of the country expressed through its recognized constitutional organs. We need in these provinces — we can bear — a large inl'usion of authority. I am not at all ftfr.iid this constitution errs on the side of too great conservatism. II' it be found too conservative now, the downward tendency in political ideas, which ch iractcriz3s this democratic age, is a suffi- cient guarantee for amendment. Thit is the principle on which this instrument is strong and worthy of the support of every colo!ii-t, and through which it will secure the warm approbation of the imperial authorities. We have here no traditions and ancient venerable institutions ; here there are no aristocr.itic elements hal- lowed by time or bright deeds ; here every man is the tirst settler of theliiidjOr removed from the first settler one or two generations at thelurthcst; here we have no architectural monuments calling up old associations ; here we have none of those old popular legends and Stories which, in other countries, have exercised a powerful sh iro in the govirnniont ; here, every man is the son of his own works. We Itavo none of those influences about us which elsewhere h ivc their effect upon government, just as much as the invisible atmosphere itself tends to influence life, and animul and vcgct.ible existence. This is a new land — a land of pretension, beciusc it is new ; because clas;-es and systems have not had that time to grow here n.-turally. We have no aiiotocr,.cj bat of virtue audt^bat, wl ich is the only true aristocrac}', and is the old and true mean- ing of the term, ^riicre is a class of men rising in these colonics su[)erior in ma.-y respects to others with whom they might bo compared. What I should like to see is that f lir representatives of the Canadian and Acadian aristocracy should be sent to the foot of the throne with that scheme to obtain for it the royal s mc- tion — a scheme not suggested by others, or imposed upon u ", but one the work of ourselves, the creation of our own intellect, and of our owu free, unbiassed and untrammelled will. I should lii^a «1. Oratorical Selections. 241 another, , having ere were } govern- jnouiih — liberty to th a freer necessary lovity, the ,:ike ; even iufficiontly set up hi3 d through ; provinces not at all iserviitism. cndency in }, is a suffi- c on which rt of every :ipprob;ition and ancient omenta h li- st settler of nerations at ^ callin;^ up legends and . crful sh irs own works. Nvheve h.ive l\o invisible /d vcj;ct.ibb bee lU-^e it i3 lime to grow .aidt..l!ut, true lucan- lese coloiucs >y migbt bo nresentitivca sent to the .e royal s mc- LDon" u •, but Atelloct, •md should Uka rt to see our best men go there and endeavor to have this measure carried through the Imperial Parliament — going into her Majesty's presence, and by their manner, if not actually by their Bpecch, saying : " During your Majesty's reign we have had responsible government conceded to us ; we have administered it for nearly a quarter of a century, during which we have under it doubled our population and more than quadrupled our trade. The small colonies which your ancestors could scarcely see on the map have grown into great communities. Great danger has arisen in our near neighborhood. Over our homes a cloud hangs dark and heavy ; we do not know when it may burst. With our own strength we are not able to combat against the storm ; what we can do, we will do cheerfully and loyally. But we want time to grow — we want more people to fill our country, more industrious families of men to develop our resources — we want to increase our prosperity — wo want more extended trade and commerce— we want more land tilled, more men established through our wastes and wildernesses. We, of the British North American Provinces, want to be joined together, that, if danger comes, wo can support each other in the day of trial. Wo come to your Majesty, who have given us liberty, to give us unity, that we may preserve and perpetuate our freedom ; and whatsoever charter, in the wisdom of your Majesty and of your Parliament, you give us, we shall loyally obey and fulfil it, as long as it is the pleasure of your Mijesty and your successors to maintain the connection between Great Britain and these colonies." CANADIANS AND AMERICANS, ONE PEOPLE IN EACB, LANGUAGE AND PURSUITS. soir. JosBPH Howa. Sir, we are hero to determine how best we can draw together, in the bonds of peace, friendship and commercial prosperity, the three great branches of the British family. In the presence of this groat theme all petty interests should stand rebuked — we are not dealing with the concerns of a city, a province or a state, but with the future of our race in all time to come. Some reference has been made to " Elevators " in your discussions. What we want is an elevator to lift our souls to the height of this great argument. Why should not these three great branches of the family flourish, under different systems of government, it may be, but forming one griuid whole, proud of a common origin and of their ad^jOb^ 242 Oratorical Selections, '« '^% ■I Kl P ^V£ '" ! '», .•If ■ ' . civilization ? We arc taught to reverence the mystery of the Trr- nity, and our s;ilv ition depends on our belief. The clover lifts its try-foil leaves to the evenini^ dew, yet they draw their nourish- ment from a single stem. Thus distinct, and yet united, let ug live and flourish. Why should we not ? For nearly two thousand ye irs we were one family. Our fathers fought side by side at Hastings, and heard the curfew toll. They fought in the same ranks for the sepulchre of our Saviour — in the earlier and later civil wars. We can wear our white and red roses without a blush^ and glory in the principles those conflicts established. Our com- mon ancestors won the great Charter and the Bill of Rights- established free Parliaments, the Habeas Corpus, and Trial by Jury. Our Jurisprudence comes down from Coke and Mansfield to Marshall and Story, rich in knowledge and experience, which ao man can divide. From Chaucer to Shakespaare our literature is a common inheritance. Tennyson and Longfellow write in one language, which is enriched by the genius developed on either side of the Atlantic. In the great navigators from Cottereal to Hudson, and in all their "moving accidents by flood and field," we have a common interest. On this side of the sea we have been largely reinforced by the Germans and French, but there is strength in both elements. The Germans gave to us the sovereigns who estate- lishcd our freedom, and they give to you industry, intelligence and thrift ; and the French, who have distinguished themselves in arts and arms for centuries, now strengthen the Provinces which the fortune of war decided they could not control. But it may be said we have been divided by two wars. What then ? The noble St. Lawrence is split in two places — by Goat Island and by Anti- costi — but it comes down to us from the same springs in the same mountain sides ; its waters sweep together past the Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior, and encircle in their loving embrace the shores of Huron and Michigan. They are divided at Niagara Falls as we were at the revolutionary war, but they come together again on the peaceful bosom of Ontario. Again they are divided on their passage to the sea ; but who thinks of divisions when they lift the keels of commerce, or when, drawn up to heaven, they form the rainbow or the cloud ? It is true that in eighty-five years we have had two wars — but what then ? Since the last we have had fifty years of peace, and there had been ^moro people killed in a single campaign in the late civil war, than there were in the two national wars between this country and Great Britain. The people of the United States hope to draw together the two conflicting elements and make them one people. And in that task I wish them God speed I And in the same way I feel that we ought to rule out everything disagreeable ia the reooUeetioa of our old wars, Oratorical Selections. 243 blie Trr- ver lifts nourisli- 1, let ua ,housand side at ,lic same Lincl later b a bluslH )ur com- Uiii;hts— Trial by Mansfield cc, vrhich literature ■itc in one jitlier side 3 Hudson, \7e have a en largely brcngth in who cstab- iitelligence themselves iccs which it may bo The noble Ijy Anti- . the same ired Rocks the shores la Falls as jther again .ivided on jn they lift they forni •e years we p have had [killed in a in the two It he people ' conilictiug : wish them ight to rule ° old wars, and unite together as one people for all time to come. I see around the door the fligs of the two countries. United {is they are there, I would ever have them draped together, fold within fold — and let "their varying tints unite, and form in heaven's light, one arch of i)caco." — ^pa-ch ddivcred at the IntcniationcU Gunvcution, Detroit, 18G5. %'^\ SACRED ORATORY. W- ■' NECESSITY OF LAW. RICHARD IIOOKEU. BOUN, 1553 ; DIKD, 1600. The st;it('lincss of houses, the jioodlincss of trees, when wc behold till 111, delijzhteth the eye; but th;it fbuiRl;iti(»ii wliieh beareth up tlic one, tluit root which uiiniyterttli unto tlie otlier nourishincnt and life, is in the boisoiu of the e;irth ooiieeided ; and if there be oecjsion at any time to search into it. sucli 1 ibor is tlien more ncci'ssary tlian pleasant, both to theui which undert.ike it and for the lookers on. In like manner, the use;;nd bi'iielit oi' Liood hnvs, all that live \inder them may enjoy with dclitiht and conilbrt, albrit the ^rounds and first original e.tuses from whence they hav(! sprung' be unknown, as to the greatest part of men they arc. Since the time thtit God did iirst proclaim the edicts ot His law unon the world, heaven and eaitli have hearkened unto His voice, and their labor hath been to do His will. He made a 1 iW for the rain ; He :s in this lower world are made, should lose the (jualities wdiich now they have; if the i'rame of that heavenly arcli erected over our heads should loosen and dissolve itself ; if celestial sj»heres should lortict their wonted motions, and by irre^uular volubility turn themsilvos any way as it mi^ht happen; if the prince of the lii;hts of heaven, which now, as a giant, doth run his unwearied course, should, as it were, throuuh a languishing faintness, begin to stand and to rest himself; if the moon should wander fiom her beaten way; the times and seasons of the yi'ar blend themselves by disordered and confused mixture ; the winds breathe out their last gasj» ; the cloudsyield no rain ; the earth be del'eati'd of Heavenly influence; the iVuits of the earth pine away, as children at the withered breasts of their mother, no longer able to yield them relief-^ whut would become of m;m himself, whom these things do now Sacred Oratory, 245 all law serve ? Soc wenotplninly that obedionoc of creutures unto the .. of nature is the st ly of the whole world ? Of L iw there c m be no less acknowlcdgeJ th:in tliat her seat is the bosom of God ; her voice the harmony of the world ; all thiiiijfs in heaven und earth do her horn ij;e ; the very le ist as feeliiiij^ her care, and the jzreatest as not exempted from her power. Both anirels and men, and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all, with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their peace aud joy. THE CRUCIFIXION. i'C behold m and sceptic reluctance. No voice sublime was he.ird pounding from a thunder-bearing cloud, as of old from the heights of Sinai! No approach was observed of that formid ible Majesty, b ;fore whom the mountains melt as wax! Where, where was the warlike preparation of that power, which was to subdue the world? See the whole artillery collected on Mount Calvary — in the exhibition of a cross, of an agonizing sufferer, aud a crown of thorns ! Religious truth was exiled from the earth, and idolatry sat brooding over the moral world. The Egyptians, the fathers of jiliilosophy ; the Grecians, the inventors of the fine arts; the Romans, the conquerors of the universe; were all unfortunately celebrated for the perversion of religious worship, — for the gross errors they admitted into tlieir |?elief, and the indignities they offered to the true religion. Minerals, vegetables, animals, the elements, became objects of adoration ; even abstract visiojiary forms, such as fevers and distempers, received the honors of deification ; and to the most infamous vices and dissolute passions altars were erected. The world, which God had made to manifest his power, seemed to have become a temple of idols, where every- thing was god but God himself! The mystery of the crucifixion was the remedy the Almighty ordained for. this universal idolatry. He knew the mind of man, 246 Sacred Oratory. and knew that it was not by reasoning that an error must be destroyed, whieh reasoning had not establislied. Idolatry pre- vailed by the suppression of reason ; by suffering the senses to predominate, wliich are apt to clotlie everytliing with the qujilities with wliicli they are affected. IMen gave the Divinity tht-ir own figure, and attributed to Him tlieir vices and ptissions. Reason- ing liad no share in so brutal an error. It was w subversion of reason, i deliiium, a phrensy. Argue with a jihrcnctic jterson, you do but the more provoke liim, and render tlu; distemper incurable. Neither will reasoning cure the delirium of idolatry. What has learned antiquity gained by lier elaborate discourses? her reasonings so artfully framed ? Did Plato, with that eloquence wliich was styled divine, overthrow one single altar where mon- strous divinities were worshipped ? Experience hath shown that the overthrow of idolatry could not be the work of reason alone. Far from committing to human wisdom tlie cure of such a malady, God completed its conlusion b the myster}' of the Cross. Idolatry (if rightly understood) took its rise from that profound self-attachment inherent in our nature. Thus it was that the Pagan mythology teemec^ with deities, who were subject to human passions, weaknesses, and vices. When the mysterious Cross displayed to the world an agonizing Redeemer, incredulity exclaimed, it was foolishness I But the darkening sun, nature convulsed, the dead arising from fhcir graves, said it was wisdom ! THE INFLUENCE OF SATAN. DR. CHALMERS. It would appear from the records of inspiration, that, on the one hand, the Spirit of God is employed in making for the truths of Christianity a way into the human heart, with all the power of an effectual demonstration ; that, on the other, there is a spirit now abroad, which worketh in the children of disobedience ; that, on the one hand, the Holy Ghost is calling men out of darkness into the marvellous light of the Gospel ; and that, on the other hand, lie who is styled the god of this world, is blinding their hearts, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Ciirist sliould enter into them : that they who are under the dominion of the one, are said to have overcome, because greater is he that is in them, than he that is in the world ; and that they who are under the dominion of the other, are said to be the children of the devil, and to be under his snare, and to be taken captive by him at his will. How these re- Sacred Oratory. Ul spcctlvc powers do opcrito, is one (jucstioti. The fact of tlicir opera- tion, is anothor. We ab-itiin from tlic fona ;r. Wo itt icli oiii's>'l\os to the latter, ;iml <^ if her from it. that tlio prince of cl irkness still Walketh abroad amoiij^st us; that he is still workini^ his insies? He who is c died the god of this world. He who can dress the idleness of its wikinji dreams in the garb of reality. Ht> who can pour a seducing brilliancy over the pinorama of its fleeting pleasures, aiid its vain anticipations. He who cm turn it into an instrument of drc^'it- fulness; and mike it wield such an absolute ascend mcy over all the affections, that mm — become the {)Oor slave of its idolatries and its charms — jiuts the authority of conscience, and the wariiin'i;.s of the Word of God, and the olR-red instigations of the Spirit of God, and all tiie lessons of c ilculation, and all the wisdom even of his own sound and sober experience, away from him. iiut this wondrous cont '8t will come to a close. Some will return to their loydty, and others will keep by their rebellion; and, in the day of the winding up of the drama of this world's history, there will be made manifest, to the myriidsof the variouii orders of creation, both the mercy and viudicated majesty of tho •I .1 .' 15 f-' K' 248 Sacred Oratory. Eternal. Oh ! on that day, how vain will the presumption of the intidil astronomy appear, when the afF;iir.s of men come to be examined, in the prcHonce of an innumerable company ; and bein f)ur present, will hii progressive ; there is to be a continued communication of light, or of knowledge, so that the assertion of Solomon, " The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day," may be as true hereafter as here. Whatever may be the attainments of the just man whilst on earth, he sees only " through a glass darkly." How much of what he acknowledges as truth is profoundly myste- rious ! what difficulties throng great portions of Scripture I how dark the dispensations of Providence ! what subject for implicit faith in the workings of God's moral government ! With St. Paul ill I: i 1 ^ ;f f : . ' ; f '^ ^ i 1 i:\ ^ ■ ' ^-v ^.■!r- , '■ ' :m ■ 1: ': V :■ ■ II ■' : i W '. ' f!" (J lili "''''il I ft 'I. r;;1 II l> ' s i't i ■'' ^1 -I- ^i 260 Sacred Oratoi'y, he is often forced to excLiini, when nmsiuj; on the Aliniirlity and his de.ilin^s, " IIow unse.ircliiiblu .-ire Ili.x jud<;uiei)ts, and 11 is w;iy8 pjiHt fiiidiri<^ out." But he has yet to p.is.s into a scene of i:re.itcr li<^lit, and to read in the open voluiui; of God's purposes, the explu- Dation of difficulties, the wisdom of appointments, tlu; nice })ro- portions of truth. And assuredly do we believe th;it then shall there break on him mii^iity and ever-iimplifying views of all that is autiust in the nature of God, and wonderful in His works. Then bIuMI the divine attributes rise before him, unseireh ible iiidiicd and uidimited, but ever discoveriu<^ more of their stupi'ndousness, their be.iuty, and their harmony. Then shall the mystic lii^ures of prophecy, which here have crossed his path only as the shadows of fir-off events, take cjich its place in accomplished plans, Bchemed and willed by the Everlastin«j,' Mind. Then shall liedemp- tion throw open before him its untravelled amplitude, and allow of his tracinu; those unnumbered ramifications, which the cross, erected on this globe, m;iy possibly be sending to all the outskirts of immensity. Then shall the sever.d occurrences of his life, the dark things and the bright which cheiiuered his p;itli, appear equally neces.s iry, equally merciful ; and doubt give place to adoring reverence, as the problem is cleared up of oppressed righteousness and successful villany. But it shall not be instantaneous, this reaping down the vast harvest of knowledge, this ingathering of what we may call the sheaves of ligiit, seeing that " light," according to the Psalmist, '* is sown for the righteous." It must continue whilst being continues, fur if the mysteries of time were exhausted and Redemption presented no unexplored district, God would remain infinite as at the first, as sublime in his inscruta- bleness, as though ages had not been given to the searchiiig out his wonders. It is said by St. Paul of the love of Christ, and if of the love, then necessarily also of him whose love it is, that it " passeth knowledge." But if never to be overtaken, it shall always be pursued, and we gather from the expression of our t(^xt (liev. xxii. 5), an expression which marks progressiveness, that the just man will continually be admitted to richer and richer discoveries of God and of Christ, so that eternity will be spent in journeying through that temple, which we have already described as the Almighty himself, from whose innermost shrine, though always inapproachable, shull flash, as he advances, the deeper and deeper efiiilgence of Deity. Ay, and if knowledge be thus progres- sive, so also shall love be, and so also happiness. In giving light, the suti gives also heat. It cannot be that the just ni ni should Uius travel into the perfections of his Creator md Redeemer, and not admire more, and adore more, and bound with a greater ecstasy. As fast as obsOtire things are illuminated, and difficult Sacred Oratory. 251 made intolHti;ible, Jind contradictory reconciled, and matiiiiticent Tinloldethe L unl), thouiih always rushing as a torrent of melody, seeing that it is to is>ue Iroin " ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousand of thousands:" — what an orchestra ! who would not hear, who would not swell the roll of this music ?- -shall not be always of e(|u:d strength ; for aa the Lamb discloses to his Church more and more of his am iziiig achievement, and opens new tnicts of the conse(|uences of the Atonement, and exhibits under more endearing and overcoming aspects, the love which moved him, and the sorrows which beset him, and the triumphs which attended him ; we believe that the hearts of the redeemed will beat with a higher pulse of devotion, and their liarps be swept with a bolder hand, and their tongues send forth a mightier chorus. Thus will the just proceed from fitrengtii to strength; knowledge, and love, and holiness, and joy, being always on the increase; and eternity one glorious morning, with the sun ever climbing higher and higher; oncbh'ssed s])ring- tinie, and yet rich summer, every plant in full flower, but every flower the bud of a lovelier. SYMPATHY. REV. FRKDERICK W. UOBEUTSON, OF BRIOHTON. The Rev. F. W. Robertson is now dead, but diirinjr a brief nnd active life, devoted to the ministrations of his hi^rh ollice, lie exercised tlic iiest and widest intiiieiice, not only over the crowded cnngregatiotis that listcMied to his eloquent preaching, but over the oj)inions and ciiaracler and literature of the country. IJis sermons and writings breathe a spirit of holy fervor, :niiii^"ir>d always with the deepest and widest charity and the liijj^hest (^liiistiaa liberty. lu the preface to the American edition of his works, his •^haracter is summed up in the following eloquent eulogy : " A courageous Christiau soldier, a fearless fighter of the good fight, a powerful lesider, strong to command, to exhort aid to encoiirage — whose daily life was war to the death with every base and evil thing, a id whose preaching was like a clarion call to duty, to devotedness, to all that was holy, lovely, noble and of good report." Till we have reflected on it we are scarcely aware liow much the sum of human happiness in the world is indebted to this 252 Sacred Oratory. ■ '\ -• Hi •! ono f(>cHnL!; — Sympattiy. Wn pjot chonrfulnoss nnd vi^'or, we Bc.irocly know how or wlicii, from Tiiorc iisHoclMtioii with our fellow-men ; jind from the looks reflceted on us of ce ,u nothing J its thrill r emotion ; .n the cost- ect of pub- is of those Iried up by i scon tent, u'. provision >ny before, liberality ; But the se that the money, but ic distribu- ,1 personal r's cottaj,'C, d with the ;amst:inces, le, has done an he could ublic dona- eep human gratitude, !act enough [feeling has felf, and is vith a force a exactly proportioned to their numbers. The spcccli or sermoa read bi'fore the limited circle of a family, and the sanu; discourso utttrt'd bulbre closely crowded hundreds, are two ditt't-reiit tIiiiii;H. Till re is a straii^ci power (!veii in the mere pres«'iice of a com- mon crowd, excitinu' almost uncontrollable emotion. It is on record that the hard heart of an orii-ntal conf|ueror was nnmjiined by the sight of a dense mass of living millions cnu;a;zed in one enterprise. II(i accounted for it bv suviny' that it suggested to him that, within a sinj:le century, not one of those millions would be alive. IJut the hard-he;irt('d bosom of the tyrant mistook its own emotions. His tears eame from no such far-fi'tched inl'erenco of retl(!ctlon ; they rosi' sponta- niMiusly as they will rise in a dense crowd — you cinnot tell why. It is the thrilling thought of innnbers engaged in the same object; it is the idiia of our own i'eelings reelprocatc^d buck to us, and reflected from many hearts; it is the mighty presence of life. And again, it seems partly to avail itself of this tendenity within us that such stress is laiil on th(! injunction of united prayi-r. Private devoti<»n is essential to the spiritual life — with- out it there is no life. 13ut it cannot replace united pi-ayer; for the two things have different aims. Solitary })rayer is feeble in comparison with that which ri.^es before the Throni^ echoed by the hearts of hundreds, and strengthened by the fcoling that other aspirations are mingling with our own. Ami whether it be the chanted litany, or the more simj>ly read service, or the anthem producing one emotion at the same moment in m.iuy bosoms, the value and the power of public prayer seem chiefly to depend on this mysterious affection of our nature — By.MI'ATIIY. ■ ZACCHEUS AND THP] SYMPATHY OF CIIIIIST. RKV. F. W. K0BKUT80X. It is in this entire and perfect sympathy with all humanity that the heart of Jesus difiers from every other heart that is found among the sons of men, audit is this. O ! it is this, wliicli is the cliicl" blessedness of having such a Saviour, If you are poor, you can only get a miserable sympathy from the rich ; witli the best intentions, they cannot understand you. Their sympathy is awkward. If you are in pain, it is only a factitious and con- str;.ined sympathy you get from those in health ; — feelings kind, forced, adopted kindly, but imperfect still. They sit, when the Mi H IkM-l ill !'■ . • I V 3. "*• il? Hi tti :|i 11 :lfi 254 Sacred Oratory^ rejiiil.ir fondolonce is done, beside you, conversinji; on topics with each other that jar upon your ears. Tluj/ sympathise? Miserable conilort/rs are tlicy all. If you arc miserable and tell out your gricsf, you have the shame ot'teelinu' thut you were not understood that you have bared your innvr self to a rude gaze. If you ;,r0 in doubt, you cannot tell your doubts to reliiiious people ; no, not even to the ministers of Christ, for ti.ey have no place ibr doubts in their largest sy>tem. They ask, what right have you to doubt ? They susjtect your character. They shake the head and whisper it about gravely tliat you read strange books, that you arc verging on infidelity. If you are depressed with guilt, to whom shall you tell out your tale of shame ? The confessional, with its many evils and yet indisputably soothing power, is passed ^away ; but there is nothing to supply its place. You cainiot speak to your brother man, for you injure him by doing so, or else weaken yourself. You cannot tell it to society, for society judges in the gross by general rules, and cannot take into account the delicate differences of transgression. It banishes the frail penitent, and does homage to the daring, hard transgressor. Then it is that, repulsed on all sides and lonely, we turn to Him whose mighty Heart understands and feels all. '' Lord to whom shall we go? Thou hast the Avords of eternal life." And then it is that, exactly like Zaccheus — misunderstood, suspected by the world, suspected by our own liearts, the very voice of God ajiparently against us, isolated and apart — we sjxak to Him from the loneliness of the Sycamore tree, heart to lieart, and pulse to pulse : " Lord, Thou knowest all things;" Thou knowest my sv'crct charities, and my untold self-denials; '' Thou knowest tliati love Thee." lu'mark, in conclusion, tbc power of the sympathy on Zacclicus' character. Salvation tiiat day came to Zaccheus' house. What brought it ? What touched him ? Of course, " the Gospel !" Yes, but what is the Gospel ? What was hla Gospel ? SjKCulations or revelations concerning the JJivine nature? The scheme of the Atonement or of the Incarnation ? Or baptismal reiicneration ? Nay, but the Divine sympathy of the Divinest Man. The personal love of God nianifested in the i'acc of Jesus Christ. The flood- gates of his soul were opened, and the whole ibree that was in the man flowed ibrth. AVhichever way you take that expression, " Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor :" — if it referred to the future, then, touched by unex})ected sympathy, finding himself no longer an outcast, he nuide that resolve iQ grattfuhu!ss ; — if to the past, then, still touched by sym]tathy, he who bad never tried to vindicate himself before the world, Sacred Oratory. 255 opics "witli Miserable I out your undev.-^tood If you :.re people ; i»o, o place ibr t have you ke the head books, that . with ^uilt, jonfessional, i(T power, IS |7lace. You ire him by it to society, and cannot K-rcssion. It daring, hard ^, we turn to l' " Lord to lUfe." And )0(l, suspected erv voice of rik to Him ,> heart, and hou knowest Viou knowest on Zacchcua' louse. What jospel !" Yes, piculations or ■ichouie of tlie regeneration I The personal St. The flood- that was in hat exi-ression, (,poor:"-il'it led sympatliyi that resolve m 1 by sympathy, )re the world, was softened to tell out tlic tale of liis secret munificence. This is what I liave been doing all the time they slandered uie, and none but God knew it. Jieanithis: — Wiien wc love the Gospel so, and preach the Gosix'l so, sinners will be brought to God. We know not yet the Gospel power; for who trusts, as Jesus did, all to that? Who ventures, as He did, upon the power of love, in sanguine hopeful- ness of the most irreclaimable ? Who makes that, the divine humanity of Christ, " the Gospel ?" More than by elo(juenco, more than by accurate doctrine, more than by ecclesiastical order, mort! than by any doctrine trusted to by the most earnesi and holy men, shall we and others, sinful rebels, outcasts, be woU to Christ by that central truth of all the Gospel, the entireness of the liedeemer's sympathy ; in other words, the love of Jesus. INDUCEMENTS TO EARNESTNESS IN RELIGION. JOHX ANOELL JAMES. Inducements ! Can it be necessary to offer these ? What ! la not the bare mention of religion enough to rouse every soul, who understands the meainng of that momentous word, to the greatest intensity of action? Who needs tt) have spread out belore him the demonstrations of logic, or the persuasions of rhetoric, to move him to seek after wealth, rank, or honor ? Who, when an oppor- tunity pA'sents itself to obtain such possessions, re^juires anything mon; than an appeal to his consciousness ot their v;ilue to engage him in the pursuit ? The very mention of riches suggests at once to man's cupidity a thousand arguments to use tne means o obtaining them. What intense longings rise in the heart I What pictures crowd the imagination ! What a spell comes over the whole soul ! And why is there less, — yea, why is there not intensely more, than all this, at the mention of the word religion^ — tiiat term which comprehends heaven and earth, time and eter- nity, God and man, within its sublime and boundless meaning? If we were as we ought to be, it would be enough only to whisper in the ear that word, of more than magic power, to engage all our faculties, and all their energies, in the mos. .esolute purpose, the most determined pursuit, and the most entire sell'-devotement. Lulueements to earnestness in religion! Alas! how low we have sunk, how far have wc been paralysed, to need to be thus stimu- lated ! Is religir>n a contradiction to the usual maxim, that a man's activity iu endeavoring to obtain an object is, if he understand it, ■I it i <6 ■ ■■ 1' •• ) ^J 256 Sacred Oratory. in exact proportion to the value and importance which he attaches to it 'i Are heaven, and salvation, and eternity, the only matters that shall reverse this maxim, and make lukewarmneas the rule of action ? By what thunder shall I bre;ik in upon your deep and dangerous sleep ? 0, revolve often and deeply the infinite realities of rclij^ion ! iMost subjects may be made to appear with ureater or less dignity, accordinji,- to the "^ireater or less degree of inijiort- ance in wliich the preacher places them. Pompous expressions, bold figures, lively ornaments of eloquence, uiay oi'ten supj»ly a want of this dignity in the subject discussed. But every attempt to give importance to a motive taken from etirnity is more likely to enfeeble the doctrine than to invigorate it. Motives of tliis kind are self-sufficient. Descriptions the most simple and the most natural are always the most pathetic or the most terril'yingj nor can 1 find an expression m(n-e powerl'ul and emphatic than that of Paul, " The things which are not seen are eternal." What more could the tongues of men and the eloquence of angels say? " Eternal things!" Weigh the import of that phrase, "eternal tilings." 'JMie history of nations, the eras of tinit', the cre;ition of worlds, all fade into insignificance — dwindle to a {)oint, attenuate to a shadow — compared with these '' eternal things." Do you believe them? If not, abjure your creed, abandon your belief. Be consistent,^ and let the stu})endous vi.sion which, like Jacob's ladder, rests its foot on earth and places its top in heaven, vanish in thin air ! But if you do believe, say what ought to be the conduct of him who. to his own conviction, stands with hell beneath him, heaven above him, and eternity before him ? By all the worth of the immortal .soul, by all the blessings of eternal salvation, by all the glories of the up))er world, by all the horrors of the bottomless pit, by all the ages of eternity and by all the personal interest you have in these infinite realities, I conjure you to be in earnest in personal religion 1 I'y' ' ■ ■' 1 .-•4 '1 THE MAJESTY OF CHIIIST. REV. W. A. BUTLER. In such a subject as this, what can one say which is not unworthy of it? It were vain to try amplification or ornament of such thingH as these. This matter is far vaster than our va.stest con- ception, infinitely grander than our loftiest ; yet overpoweringly awful as it is, how familiarity still reconciles us to hearing of it without awe ! Perhaps even the overpowering greatness oi tlio subject makes us despair of conceiving it at all. All the wonders Sacred Oratory, 257 attaclies ' m: liters ic rule of leep nnd e realities Iv trreater )f iinitortr presf^ions, supply a y atteuipt loro likely es of tliis e avul the terriiyingi iliatie than i eternal." 30 of ai libels liat phrase, f time, the . to a point, lal thin-s." laudon your ^Yhich, like p in heaven, ought to be .s with hell him? By rs of eternal \he horrors hy all the conjure you lot unworthy |ient of >uch • vastest con- Lvpoweringly [learing of it Aaess oi' the fthe woudors of God fall deadly on unfitted minds. And thus men learn list- lessly to hear words without even an effort to attach ideas to them ; and this is not least the case with those who dispute the most bitterly about the lifeless words themselves. In such a case all that can be done is to endeavor to devise some mode of meeting this miserable influence of habit, by forcing the mind to make some faint effort to realize the infinite magnificence of the subject. Let us endeavor, then, to approach it thu% You are wandering (I will suppose) in some of the wretched retreats of poverty, upon some mission of business or charity. Perplexed and wearied amid its varieties of misery, you chance to come upon an individual whose conversation and mien attract and surprise you. Your attention enkindled by the gracious benevolence of the stranger's manner, you inquire, and the astounding fact reveals itself, that in this lone and miserable scene you have, by some strange conjuncture, met with one of the great lights ..f the age, one belonging to a different and distant sphere, one of the leaders of universal opinion on whom your thoughts had long been busied, and whom you had for years desired to see. The singular accident of an interview so unexpected fills and agitates your mind. You form a thousand theories as to what strange cause could have brought him there. You recall how he spoke and looked ; you call it an epoch in your life to have wit- nessed so startling an occurrence, to have beheld one so distin- guished, in a scene so much out of all possibility of anticipation. And this, even though he were in no wise apparently connected with it except as witnessing and compassionating its groups of misery. Yet again, something more wonderful than this is easily con- ceivable. Upon the same stage of wretchedness a loftier personage may be imagined. In the wild revolutions of fortune even nionarchs have been wanderers. Suppose this, then, — improbable indeed, but not impossible surely. And then what feelings of respectful pity, of deep and earnest interest, would thrill your frame, as you contemplated such a one cast down from all that earth can minister of luxury and power, from the head of councils and of armies, to seek a home with the homeless, to share the bread of destitution, and feed on the charity of the scornful ! How the depths of human nature are stirred by such events! how tlky find an echo in the recesses of our hearts, these terrible esjiousals of majesty and misery ! But this will not suffice. There are beings witliin the mind's easy conception that far overpass the glories of the statesnum and the iiiouarch of our earth. Men of even no extreme aidor of laucy, whcu oucc instructed as to the vastuess of our universe, have R !S 258 Sacred Oratory. :^' 1 ¥ '^ m yearned to know of the life and intolli st irs ; around this whole universe, and through the infinity of infinite spice itself; from all eternity and to all eternity ; there lives a Being, compared to whom t!iat mighty spirit ju t described, with his empire of a million sn:i,5, is infinitely less than to you is the minutest mote that flouts in the sunbeam. There is a Being in whose breath lives the whole immense of V jrlds, Vr'ho with the faintest wish could blot them all from exist- ence, and who, alter they had all vanished away like a dream, would remain, filling the whole tremendous solitude they left, as unimpaired in all the fulness of His might as when lie first scat- tered them around llini to be the fiauiing beacons of His ghiiy. "With Him, co-infinite with immensity, coeval with eternity, tlic univiTse is a span, its duration a moment. Hrar His voice att -t-. ing His own eternal sovereignty: *' Heaven and earth shall j'ass away, but my words shall not pass away." But n-ho is He t.iat tiuis builds the throne of Mis glory upon the ruins of earth aad lii'aven; who is He that thus trilun|lh^ over a perishing universe, Himself alone eternal and impassible ? The child of a Jewish Sacred Oratory. 259 and that so tibun- dream of \i yet in of s^uch Id in this presid w* iiake Uim 1 of those r. Think with svvch ion worlds .'t live ; to ir of forni3 ,n than tho him. ^^till 1 the aff irs i\ which, in :edst .rtliiit 1 wilhiiir to iicdititf nur iy would bo hut, when it ore it could ■course ! of nature ; ole univer-^e, all eternity whom t lat lillion SU113, floats in the immense of I from exi■^t• Hce a dream, jthey left, as [e first seat- If His ol..i-y. leternity, tlic 1 voice att -t-- \\\ sliall I'ass lo is He t/.at l)f earth aid lu<>" uuivei'"^^, of a J^'^vi'^^ woman, brethren, He who, as on this day, was laid in a manijer, because there was tio room for him in the inn at Betlilehem ! — St rnioiis, Doctriniil and Practical — Sermon on the M^sttri/ of the Incarnation, Luke i. 35. LIFE ETERNAL. RKV. C. H. 8PURGE0N. " T GIVE unto them etornal life." This <;ift is, first of all, life. You will make strani:;© confusion of God's Word if you confound life with existence, for they are very different things. All men will exist for ever, but many will dwell in everlistinir death ; they will know notliini;' whatever of life. Life is a distinct thiii;^: alto- gitlier from existeneo, and implies in God's Word sonictliing of activity and of liappincss. In the text before us it includes many things. Note the difference between the stone and the plant. The plant has ve^ietable life. You know the differenct; between t]i is by nature adapt 'd for a ^oulish lilt'. 'IMie Ai)ostle tells us, in that wonderful chapter in Corinthians, that the body is sown — whiit? " A natural body." The Greek is, " A soulish body " — '• but it is raised " — what? " A spiritud body." Tlnic is a soulish body, and there is a s}>iritual body. There is a ])ody adiptcd to the lower life which belongs to all men, a mere mental existence; and there is to be a body which will belon( ', .1, '■i! L I' !\|H .■!"| 'ii' ll : .. ■.;W • 1 If • *i'* '.I ! 260 Sacred Oratory, the house of their perfected spirit in heaven. The life which Jesus Christ {ijives His people is .si)irituul life, therefore it is mys- terious. " Thou hearest the sound thereof, but thou e;iiist not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it gocth ; so is ovrry one that is born of the Spirit." You who have mental life cannot explain to the horse or tlie dog what it is, neither can we who have spirit- ual lite explain to those who have it not what it is. You can tell them what it does and what its effects are, but what the " spark of heavenly flame " may be, you yourselves do not know, though you are conscious that it is there. It is spiritual life which Jesus Christ gives His people, but it is more ; it is divine life. This life is like the life of God, and therefore it is elevating. " Wc are made," says the Apostle, " partakers of the divine nature." "Begotten again by God the Father, not," says the Apostle, "with corruptible seed, but with incorruptible." Wc do not become divine, but we receive a nature which enables us to sympatliise with Deity, to delight in the topics which engage the Eternal Mind, and to live upon the same principle as the Most Holy God. We love, for God is love. We begin to be holy, for God is thrice holy. We pant after per- fection, for He is perfect. We delight in doing good, for God is ■good. We get into a new atmosphere. We pass out of the old range of the mere mental faculties ; our spiritual faculties make us akin to God. " Let us," said He, " make man in our own image, Rafter our own likeness." That image Adam lost; that image Christ restores, and gives to us that life which Adam lost in tlie day when he sinned, when God said to him : "In the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surt>ly die." In that sense he did die ; the sentence was not postponed ; he died spiritually directly he touched the fruit ; and this long-lost life Jesus Christ restores to every soul who believes in Hifii. This life is heavenly life. It is the same life that expands and develops itself in heaven. The Christian does not die. What does the Saviour say ? '* He that believeth in me shall never die." Does not the mental life die ? Yes. Does not the mere bodily life die? Ay, but not the spiritual life. It is the same life here which it will be there, only now it is undeveloped and corruption impedes its action. Brethren, nothing of us shall go to heaven as flesh and blood, but only as it is subdued, elevated, changed, and perfected by the influence of the spirit-lii'e. Know ye not that " flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God ; neither d^th corruption inherit incorruption." Then what is the " I," the " myself" that shall enter heaven? Why, ifyoii be in Christ a new creature, then th;it new creature and nothing but th.it new creature, the very life which you have lived here iu this taber- Sacred Oratory, 261 nacle, the very life that has budded and blossomed in the f]^ardeii of cnnnnuninn with God, that life which has led you to visit the sick, and clothe the naked, and feed the hungry, that life which has m ci(l(i tears of repentance stream down your cheeks, that life which h;is caused you to believe in Jesus — this is the life which will iio to heaven ; and if you have not this, tiien you do not pos- sess the life of heaven, and dead souls cannot enter there. (Jnly livinir nion can enter into the land of the living'. " As we have borne the iniaii;e of the earthy, so also shall we bear the ima