LIBRARY OF THR University of California. Mrs. SARAH P. WALSWORTH. Received October, i8g4. Accessions No.^/^2^. Class No._^_,Q_, ^C CM / PULPIT ELOCUTION: COMPRISING SUGGESTIONS ON THE IMPORTANCE OF STUDY; REMARKS ON THE EFFECT OF MANNER IN SPEAKING; THE RULES OF READING, EXEMPLIFIED FROM THE SCRIPTURES, HYMNS, AND SERMONS ; OBSERVATIONS ON THE PRINCIPLES OF GESTURE; AND A SELECTION OF PIECES FOR PRACTICE IN READING AND SPEAKING. WILLIAM RUSSELL, INSTRUCTOR IW KLOCUTION. rc-.. ANDOVER: PUBLISHED BY ALLEN, BIORRILL AND WAEDWELL. NEW YORK : MARK H. NEWMAN. 1846. 3V*^. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by William Russell, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. PREFACE The design of the present work, is, as intimated in the title, to furnish a manual of elocution, prepared with particular refer- ence to the purposes of the pulpit. The author's previous publications, — the American Elocu- tionist, and the volume on Orthophony, are intended for general use, in all literary establishments in which elocution forms a de- partment of instruction. These two manuals furnish, it is thought, all the requisite means of acquiring a thorough knowledge of the principles of elocution, — either in a practical or a scientific form, at the option of the student. The Orthophony prescribes the elementary discipline by which to train the organs to vigour and pliancy, and to mould the voice, in adaptation to the various modes of expressive utterance. It furnishes a series of elementary lessons on the systematic cultivation of the voice, — adapted to the theory and nomenclature of Dr. Rush. It includes, also, the methods of instruction, and the forms of exercise, introduced by Mr. J. E. Murdoch, in his sys- tem of ' vocal gymnastics,' along with those which are used by the author of the present volume, in his modes of practical training. The Elocutionist presents, more particularly, the correct pro- nunciation of words, and the application of the rides of elocution, in connection with rhetoric and prosody. It comprises a course of practical instruction in enunciation, infection, emphasis, rhetori- cal pauses, expressive tone, and the rudiments of gesture. The general principles of elocution, however, as a science, and its j)ractice, as an art, need particular modification, to ac- commodate them to the appropriate purposes of professional 4: PREFACE. culture, for students of theology. The style of voice, adapted to the correct and impressive reading of a hymn, the Scriptures, or a sermon, requires special attention and study, and a separate course of practice. The delivery of a discourse from the pulpit, demands an appropriate training, distinct from that of popular oratory. — The materials and the suggestions for such cultivation, the present volume is designed to supply. The plan on which the contents of the following pages, are arranged, embraces, 1st, Introductory Observations on the importance of Elocu- tion, as a department of Theological Study. 2d, Remarks on the effect of Manner, in Voice and Gesture, as exemplified in the pulpit. 3d, A brief Summary of the most important Principles of Elocution, with particular reference to their exemplification in the reading of the Scriptures, hymns, and sermons. 4th, Exercises in these forms of reading, selected and arranged for the particular application of rules and principles. 5th, A brief statement of the Principles of Gesture. 6th, Miscellaneous Extracts, for practice in Reading and Speak- ing, intended to be analyzed by the student, and classified, in their various contents, under the points of practical elocution which they illustrate. CONTENTS Page. Preface 3 Hints on the Modes op Practice in the Use of this Volume 9 Introductory Observations on the Study of Elocution 13 The Elocution of the Pulpit. By the Kev. Dr. Edwards A. Park 14 The Study of Elocution an important part of the Preparation re- quired by the Public Duties of the Ministry. By the Rev. Edward N. Kirk 22 Elocution, as a department of Preparatory Study in Theology 29 Effects of Manner in the Elocution of the Pulpit 56 Animation and Dullness 56 Earnestness and Apathy 60 Force, Feebleness 68 Vehemence, Violence 69 Gentleness, Spirit, Tameness 70 Boldness, Timidity 71 Harshness, Amenity 72 The Cultivation of Force 73 Modes of Cultivating Force 73 Modes of Subduing Excessive Vehemence ... 74 Freedom, Constraint, Reserve 75 Variety, Monotony 80 Mannerism, Adaptation, Appropriateness .... 82 Individuality of Manner 89 Dignity, Familiarity 92 Formality, Primness, Rigidity 96 Propriety of Manner 1 01 Warmth of Manner 104 Serenity of Manner 109 True and Natural Manner 112 Refinement and Gracefulness 116 False Taste, Artificial Style 118 Adaptation of Manner to the Different Parts of a Discourse 119 Manner in Devotion 121 Principles of Elocution 125 The Cultivation of the Voice : its Capability . . . 125 1* 6 CONTENTS. Neglect of Vocal Culture 129 Kemedies for Defective Culture . . . • . . . 130 Effects of Due Cultivation 132 on the ' Quality' of the Voice 134 " Articulation I35 " Force and ' Stress' 136 " Pitch 137 " 'Inflection' 141 " 'Movement' I43 " ' Rhythm' and Pausing 146 " Emphasis 146 " ' Expression' , . 149 Elementary Exercises for the Voice .... 153 Articulation I53 The Fundamental Sounds of the English Language . . 153 Combinations . 154 Exercises in ' Quality' 156 'Pure Tone' 156 Pathos 157 Repose, Placid Emotion 158 Solemnity 160 ' Orotund Quality' 160 Pathos and Sublimity 161 Repose, Solemnity, and Sublimity . . . . 162 Solemnity, Sublimity, and Pathos 162 Energy and Sublimity 163 Joy and Sublimity 165 Awe and Sublimity 166 FJxERCiSES IN Force 167 Suppressed Force 168 Subdued Force 168 Moderate Force 169 Declamatory Force 171 Impassioned Force 172 Shouting 173 Calling 174 Exercises in ' Stress' 174 Impassioned ' Radical Stress' 176 Unimpassioned ' Radical Stress' 177 'Median Stress' 177 ' Vanishing Stress' 178 ' Compound Stress' 1 79 ' Thorough Stress' . . 180 Exercises in Pitch 181 Middle Pitch . 181 CONTENTS. 7 Low Pitch 183 Lowest Pitch 187 High Pitch 189 Exercises in Inflection 192 Impassioned Inflection 192 Vivid or Earnest Inflection 194 Moderate Inflection 197 Slight Inflection 199 •Monotone' 200 Exercises in 'Movement' 201 ' Slowest Movement' 202 ' Slow Movement' 204 ' Moderate Movement' 212 ' LiA^ely Movement' 218 Exercises in ' Khtthm' 225 Verse, or Metrical Accent 227 Prose 'Rhythm' 228 Exercises in Emphasis 231 Impassioned Emphasis 232 Unimpassioned Emphasis 232 Exercises in ' Expression' 232 Awe 233 Awe and Fear 234 Awe, Solemnity, and Tranquillity 234 Solemnity and Reverence 235 Praise 236 Deep and uncontrolled Grief 238 Deep and subdued Grief 239 Indignation 241 Denunciation 243 Tenderness 244 Penitence and Contrition 247 Regret, Repentance, and Shame 248 Remorse, Self-reproach, Horror, and Despair . . . 249 Joy 251 Happiness 253 Composure, Serenity, and Complacency .... 257 Exercises in ' Variation' 261 'Invocation of Light.' — Milton 262 ' Soliloquy of Satan.' — Milton 264 ' The Enterprise of the Pilgrim Fathers of New England. '-.E.-EJ?;ere«. 271 Reading of the Scriptures 277 Narrative Passages 281 Examples in Familiar Style 282 Examples in ' Middle' Style 283 o CONTENTS. Examples in Elevated Style 285 Didactic Passages 288 Examples in Oral and Parabolic Style .... 289 Examples from the Epistles 291 Passages from the Prophetic Writings • ... . . 292 Lyric Passages 295 The Reading op Hymns 296 Examples of Solemnity and Awe 303 " Grandeur, Majesty, and Power . . . 304 " Repose, Tranquillity, and Serenity . . 308 " Joy, Praise, and Triumph . . . . 310 " Pathos, Entreaty, and Supplication . . 319 " "Varied ' Expression' 323 " Didactic Sentiment 328 The Principles of Gesture 332 The Attitude of the Body, required for Public Speaking . 340 The Character of Oratorical Action 344 Miscellaneous Exercises in Reading and Speaking . 353 English Oratory Addison. 353 Pulpit Eloquence of England . . . Sydney Smith. 355 Eloquence of the Pulpit . . . John Quincy Adams. ■ 358 The Fatal Falsehood Mrs. Opie. 359 Musings on the Grave .... Washington Irving. 362 The Grave James Montgomery. 363 The Galilean Church, at the Period of the Revolution Croly. 365 Night James Montgomery. 367 ThcLandofBculah G. B. Cheever. 368 Life's Companions .... Charles Mackay. 371 Henry Martyn Macaxday. 373 ' Ora atque Labora !' Albeit Pike. 379 The Field of Battle Bobert Hall. 380 ' Not on the Battle Field.' .... John Piei-pont. 382 Religious Principle the Vital Element of Poetry Carlyle. 384 Emblems . James Montgomery. 387 Parson Thacher's Day . . . Columbian Magazine. 389 The Sun's Eclipse (July 8, 1842) . . . Horace Smith. 395 The Moravians at Hemhut . On a Survey of the Heavens, before Daybreak. The Crowded Street .... Robert Hall . . . . . The Millennium Era .... William Homtt. 397 H. K. White. 402 W. C. Bryant. 404 . Anon. 405 S. T. Coleridge. 407 HINTS ON MODES OP PERSONAL PRACTICE,, IN THE USE OF THIS VOLUME. Individuals who have not convenient access to instruction, and are* desirous of prosecuting the study and practice of elocution, as a matter- of self-cultivation, may be aided by the following suggestions. 1. The preliminary condition to success in the cultivation of any branch of practical oratory, is a healthy condition of the bodily frame. El- ocution, as the exterior part of eloquence, is altogether dependent on the vigour and flexibility of the muscular system. Flaccid, rigid, and clum- sy muscles render expression by voice and action impracticable. Mus- cular energy and pliancy demand habits of free exposure to the open air, and the vigorous use of the arms and limbs, in daily exertions of adequate force. No man can be eifectively eloquent without energy ; and the attaining of energy is, to the student and the sedentary man, a thing comparative- ly arduous. Several hours — not one, merely, — of every day, ai'c due to the renovation of the body ; and the student who tries to evade this con- dition, although he may do well, apparently, for a few years, usually sinks into debility, or contracts a decided — perhaps a fatal — bronchial affection. The sedentary man who is, at the same time, a public speak- er, needs a double allowance of air and exercise, to counteract the inju- rious tendency of the union of two modes of life, naturally incompati- ble. The nervous excitation, and the cerebral exhilaration, arising from continued intellectual action, — by the deceptive inspiration which they impart, — often lead the student to slight physical exercise, as a thing unnecessary. A few years, — sometimes even a few months, — are suffi- cient to undeceive the individual, and disclose all the accumulation of unsuspected injury to which he had been subjecting himself The stu- dent is ever prone to forget that the body is a machine designed for ac- tion, and one which he is bound to keep in use, and so to keep in re- pair, — under a penalty not less severe than is attached to a desecration. The statistics of elocution, however, if faithfully recorded, would not show a result, usually, of one sound voice in ten, among young men who are addicted to sedentary and studious habits. An individual who wishes to acquire or retain the power of speaking or reading with true effect, must, in the first instance, be wilMng to as- sign a considerable portion of every day to invigorating exercise and exposure. 2. It is, farther, an indispensable prerequisite to effective elocixtion that the student accustom himself to activity^ as a habit both of body and mind. Expression, in elocutionary forms, is action : it is a thing utterly 10 HINTS ON MODES OF PRACTICE. incompatible with listlessness, indolence, or languor. Eloquence, — of which elocution is but the audible and visible part, — implies a tendency to perccptilile effect. ' Wisdom'' may be ' the repose of minds.' But elo- quence is not. The true orator has always defined eloquience as action. Eloquence is not — in its eifective form, — ^the placid lake, whose charm is its serenity. It is the river ' moving in majesty,' or sweeping to its des- tination, and carrying Avith it whatever it encounters in its course. The eloquence of calm thought and mild persuasion, has doubtless its time and place. But even this demands its appropriate utterance and action. Deprived of these it will lose its power. The discipline to which the student, as a scholar, so long subjects himself, — the passive and receptive state of mind to which he is habituated, — entail a tenden- cy to inaction, as regards manifestation and expression. When he as- sumes, therefore, the duties of a ])rofession which devolves on him, in frequent recurrence, the act of public speaking, he is usually unprepar- ed for this altogether new career, in which his success depends not on his power of reception or acquisition, but of impartation and utterance. He must undergo a change of habit, as regards both mental and bodily exertion, to render him capable of accomplishing the purj^oses of active life and professional duty. He miist become habituated to the glow of action, and the impulse of feeling : he must learn to cherish the inspira- tion of ardour and positive exertion, and to relish the pleasure of im- pelling other minds, — of compassing an object and carrying a point. His speech must become fraught with the spirit of eloquence, in the earnestness of its tones, and the energy of its accompanying action ; that he may possess the power of moving his hearers and earning them with him. Such exertion will oflen demand all the spirit and enthusiasm of heroic enterprise. The student of elocution, then, must bring to his practice a stirring ambition that shall not suffer him to subside into languor and indolence, or irresolution and inaction. His daily physical exercise must be car- ried to such extent as to yield the natural and healthful pleasure of ex- ertion, and to create an earnest desire for it, and an habitual tendency towards it, 3. But the successfid practice of elocution demands more than mere- ly high-toned health and habitual activity. Expression by voice and action requires that natural resiilt of healthful hal)it, which we designate, in popular language, by the phrase ' high animal spirits.' This is one of Nature's laws of exipression. The individual in private society, not less than the public speaker, needs animation^ as a condition of oral com- munication. The child, under the inspiration of vivid emotion, becomes an eloquent monitor to the man, as regards the impartation of feeling. The student of elocution, to be successful in his endeavours, needs all the aids arising from the inspiring influences of health and activity and ani- mation. It is from the superaliundant life of his oAvn heart that he is to impel and inspire the feelings of others. Expression, in its best fonns, is often something stnxck out in the glow of emotion. The most elo- quent tones of the human voice, and the most impressive forms of atti- tude and action, are those which spring from the most vivid state of the soul, under a powerful inspiration. 4. A high tone of the animal spirits, and a quick sensibility of heart need, however, the associated aid of a plastic, and, at the same time, a powerfvlhf active imacjination. Poetry is not such to the man who re- ceives it into a hard or a dormant fancy. To such an individual, its no- HINTS ON MODES OF PRACTICE, 11 blest workings are but so many forms of falsehood. Let him attempt to give it voice, and his dry inexpressive tone reveals the fact that it has no power over his being. The liighest expressive action of the human mind, is that in which eloquence, in its sublime inspiration, passes into the form of poetrj^ The art of elocution recognizes this fact, and presents to the student, as the noblest of all its exercises, the fitting recitation of sentiment imbodied in verse, or in those forms of prose which bespeak the presence of the spirit, if not the letter, of poetry. To do justice to such strains, the student must bring to his work the utmost pliancy and glowing activity of imagination, to enable him to take on and give oif, with con-espondcnt cflect, the ' thick-coming fan- cies' of the poet. He must possess the j)ower of assimilating his own mood of mind to that of the creative artist under whose inspiration he is working. Every central point of thought must be thrown out, in tone and action, in a style which clusters round it the whole investing im- agery of the poet's soul and the speaker's heart. Poetic utterance re- quires that imagination should people the world of feeling, not less than that feeling should animate and awaken the world of fancy. Elo- quence, when it is tmly such, partakes largely of the character of poetry : the most eloquent passage of writing is that which is essentially the most poetical. The student of elocution, then, if he woidd be successful in his art, must cherish Avhatever tends to impart life and power to the imaginative faculty. Nature and art, and poetry, in particular, are the great schools of imagination. But no influence is more immediate, in this respect, than the attentive practice of elocution itself. A true poetic recitation breathes into the soul, at once, the conception of the poet, the music of his verse, and the charm of a harmonized living voice, to which the heart strings are fonned to thrill. 5. The effects resulting from the practice of elocution, are equally fa- vourable, as regards the best influence on the health and vigour and activity of the organic frame^ and on the halntual tone of feeling. The erect and ex- pansive attitude of body, and the free and forcible action of all its parts, in the full expression of posture, motion, and gesture, tend to impart vigour and pliancy, not less than freedom and grace ; while the unembar- rassed and active play of heart and lungs conveys fresh life and power to all parts of the system, from the energy imparted to the muscles of the chest and throat. A highly animated condition of the whole interior of the bodily frame, is a necessary consequence of the vivid and genial emotions which inspiring sentiment and impressive utterance produce. 6. The various modes of exercise, in detail, which are most conducive to healthful vigour and organic energy, may be found described in the volume on Orthophony, which is more immediately occupied with this branch of elocutionary training. The student, when he has rendered himself expert in these, or others of a similar description, may, with ad- vantage, proceed in the course of cultivation, as developed in that work, and in the American Elocutionist. To the study of these volumes, the exercises commencing at the 125th page of the present work, will form a useful sequel. Students who have not convenient access to the works now mentioned, will, it is thought, find, in the exercises presented in the following pages, a course of practice sufficient for immediate purposes. 7. The practice of the elementary exercises, should be persevered in, till every point, successively, is mastered, and the results of cultivation 12 HINTS ON MODES OF PRACTICE. are fully obtained in a perfectly pure^ clear, round, and full Tone of voice; a perfectly distinct and well-marked, but fluent Enunciation ; the power of giv- ing forth, at pleasure, any degree of Force, from whispering to shouting and calling; every species of'' Stress;^ the ability to exemplify any Pitch of voice, from the lowest to the fughest ; a perfect command of ' Infections,^ in all their forms; an entire control over '■ Movement,^ from the slowest to the lively rate; an exact observance of Time and ' BJiythm ;' every degree of effect in JEm- j)hasis,from the most delicate to the l>oldest; a perfect mastery of '■ Expression,^ in all its moods, and of ' Variation,^ throuqh ml its modif cations. 8. A separate course of practice, in the reading of the Scriptures and of hymns, should, after the previous training, be pursued, with the aid of close analysis and frequent repetition, as exemplified in the following pages. 9. The ' miscellaneous exercises' should all be thoroughly analyzed, previous to practising them, and the style of reading penciled, if necessaiy, on the margin, opposite to every passage which needs more than usual at- tention to ' expression' and variation. 10. The next step in the student's progress, should be the reading of passages selected from various authors, and exemplifying all the varieties of style in narrative, descriptive, didactic, and oratorical composition in prose, and of epic, lyric, and dramatic poetry. 11. The next step in preparatory training should be the reading of ser- mons, with strict regard to the due loudness and slowness of voice re- quired in public reading ; — with a watchful attention to inflection, empha- sis, and pauses, as the vehicles of distinctive thought ; and to ' expres- sion' and ' variation' as the means of effect in sentiment and emotion. The best security for due closeness of attention to particulars, is the pre- paratory use of the pencil in marking, on the margin and between the lines, every important point in the management of the voice. 12. The student should now adopt the practice of reading matter of his own composition, in the form of essays, lectures, and sermons. 13. As a preparation for applying the principles of Gesture, passages from the ' elementary' and the ' miscellaneous exercises,' may be committed to memory, and practised in the forms of declamation and recitation. 14. The next step, in preparatory practice, should consist in speaking on given subjects, after close and thorough premeditation, so as to develope a train of thought in well-digested forms, leaving the language and ex- pression, in their details, to the suggestion of the moment. 15. The last stage of elocutionary practice, may be left to exercises in strictly extemporaneous speaking, in the fonn of discourses pronounced on texts selected ad aperturam libri, as a preparation for the customary re- marks on passages of Scripture, at prayer-meetings. When students can conveniently meet, in classes, the practice of extemporaneous discussion and debate, may be advantageously adopted, as a means of cultivating propriety and fluency in elocution. INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS. ON THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. Students of theology are not always aware of the im- mense importance of a perfect command of voice, and of aa intimate knowledge of the rules and principles of elocution, as the only rational means to that end. A teacher in this branch of education, therefore, has often to consume much time in soliciting attention to his subject ; and his arguments are not unfrequently regarded as the pleading of one whose personal interests are at stake in the question. The author of the following treatise, labours, in common with other instructors in his department, under this disadvan- tage, and has found it useful to appeal, on this ground, to the testimony of individuals already engaged in the duties of the sacred profession. He was desirous, therefore, previous to commencing the task of compiling this volume, to obtain, — from those whose professional position and opportunities- might give sanction to their opinions, — their views on the advantages of specific study and practice in elocution, as a part of professional training for the services of the pulpit. Several clergymen to whom the author made application,, on this subject, expressed a warm interest in the object in view, and their readiness to render it their personal aid. The urgency of professional duties, however, in some instances^ and unforeseen hinderances, in others, have prevented the 2 14 PtTLPIT ELOCUTION. fulfilment qf their wishes.* The author takes peculiar plea- sure in acknowledging the effectual aid which, in the follow- ing instances, has been so liberally afforded to his undertak- ing. The sentiments of such individuals, will carry their own commendation to every mind ; and in contributing them to the objects of this volume, the compiler feels assured that their authors have rendered an invaluable service to the pur- poses of the profession which they sustain. THE ELOCUTION OE THE PULPIT. [Contributed by the Rev. Dr. Edwards A. Park, Bartlet Professor of Sacred Rhetoric, in Andover Theological Seminary.] The Author of our being has made the various organs of the body expressive of thought and emotion. The eye, the cheek, the lip, the hand, the foot, the attitude of the limbs and chest and head, may all show forth a sentiment of the soul. It is a singular fact, that the choicest selection of words will sometimes fail to. exhibit a certain cast of thought, which may be indicated at once by the natural signs consisting in certain movements and appearances of the physical organs.* In the person of Garrick, a mere position of the elbow or the knee, yea, a particular adjustment of the hair, has vivid- ly portrayed a state of mind which artificial language is too inflexible to express. "Written words, even when they embody the general idea, the substantial meaning, are often unable to exhibit those evanescent shades of sentiment w^hich are clearly expressed by tones and gestures. The inflection with which a word is * The late Rev. Dr. Nettleton expressed his earnest desire, in case of the restoration of his health, to give his express testimony on this sub- ject ; and, among the students attending the Theological Institute at East Windsor, during the latter years of his life, several will recollect how eloquently he urged this matter on their attention, in the counsels which he gave them, when he was lying disabled by the disease which terminated his life. IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 15 uttered, conveys sometimes a delicate thought, which the word itself does not even intimate. Now this natural expressive- ness of the human frame is an essential concomitant of. oral language. It is the first instrument which man uses in order to communicate his thoughts, for he knows the meaning of signs before that of articulate phrases ; and it is his last re- sort when speech fails him. Our Creator never intended, that we should utter our words without the appropriate tones and the corroborative appearances of the body. These accompaniments of speech are as necessary to its full effect, as animal life is needful for the completeness of physical beauty. There can be no per- fect speech without them. The imperfect manner in which they are frequently exhibited, results from that obtuseness of sensibility, that indolence of mind, that ignorance of the fit- nesses of things, that want of executive power, which are remote consequences of our apostate moral condition. A complete orator must be a completely holy man ; and our natural selfishness has superinduced such habits of thought and feeling as make us awkward and inexpert in our attempts to express what passes within our minds. The various de- velopments of affectation are the result of our pride and love of display ; the different forms of dullness in our speech are occasioned by that callous sensibiHty which the Bible denom- inates ' hardness of heart.' The natural language of the human body, being indispen- sable to the full effect of arbitrary language, is, of course, an essential accompaniment of all earnest address. A proper use of this natural language, is involved in a good elocution ; and such an elocution is thus a constituent part of the preach- ing of the gospel. A man would not be considered as preach- ing the word which maketh wise unto salvation, if he should proclaim it in an unknown tongue, or in any such manner as would render it unintelligible ; if, for instance, he should make no pauses at the end of sentences, and should let his voice fall at those words only which cannot be understood unless uttered with a rising inflection ; if he should use the 16 PULPIT ELOCUTION. interrogative tones for affirmative remarks, and the exclama- tory accent for the simplest didactic phrase. This might be trifling with the gospel, or disfiguring it, but not preaching it. Now a poor elocution does make certain portions of the pro- claimed word unintelligible. It fails to express those delicate shades of thought, which are elementary parts of the gospel itself. It suggests positive ideas, which the words uttered do not mean, and" which are sometimes hostile to the whole spirit of divine truth. The most injurious impressions have been produced, by what are technically called * immoral tones,' in the utterance of Christian doctrine. It is evident, then, that a good elocution in the pulpit is as really important as any elocution at all. If it be useful to preach the gospel, then it is useful to preach it so that it will be understood and felt. If its truths ought to be expressed, they ought to be expressed fully and properly. To proclaim them, and yet adopt such a manner as will obscure or per- vert their meaning, and blunt their force, is to do and to undo a thing at the same time. The advantages resulting from a true, natural elocution, in the pulpit, are the same with the advantages of Christian doctrine well exhibited. The evils ensuing from a false, unnatural elocution, are the same with the evils of misrepresenting the word of God. He who un- dervalues the right method of enunciating religious truth, un- dervalues also the niceties of sentiment, the delicate mould- ings of thought, which are a constituent portion of that truth ; and which are lost from the view, when a preacher's elocu- tion hides behind itself the ideas which ought to be delivered to his hearers. An affected delivery is often a delivery of mere words, often words conveying a thought never intended by the speaker. If, then, the preaching of the gospel be the appropriate enunciation of divine truth, we see why it was ordained as the chief means of impressing this truth upon the mind. The Deity might have required, that his word should be merely read in silence, or that it should be repeated in a whisper from a single individual to another, or that it should be only IMPORTANCE OP THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 17 chanted or sung. But he chose to ordain that it should be preached, i. e. uttered in the appropriate style, by a sacred orator to a listening congregation. Long before the New Testament was committed to writing, were its truths impres- sed upon the public mind by the living voice of the presbyter. He who made man, knew what was in man. He knew those latent sensibiHties of the soul, which can be touched by noth- ing so well as by truth eloquently spoken. The means for our spiritual renovation he thus wisely adapted to the princi- ples of our nature. Hence when his word is preached, as it ought to be, in an earnest and an emphatic manner, it pro- duces a peculiar effect upon the soul. It acquires a meaning which it does not seem to possess upon the written page. When a Whitefield utters the words, * Oh ! wretched man that I am,' they have an intensity of expression which a si- lent reader will not perceive. The power of those and of many similar phrases, is communicated, in some degree, by their conventional signs ; in some degree, by the tones which are their life ; — by the speaking eye, the flushed face, the whole air and mien of the impassioned orator. Being endued with physical and spiritual susceptibilities, man is the most deeply impressed when an appeal is made to both parts of his sentient nature ; when the eye and the ear are delighted, as well as the mind and heart. And such is the sympathy between the corporeal and the mental powers, that when the former are in a state of appropriate excitement, the latter act with increased vigour and success. The soul perceives the more of truth, and feels it the more keenly, when the eye traces the Hneaments of this truth upon the countenance of the speaker, and the ear catches the vibra- tions of it from lips which have been touched as with a live coal from off the altar. Valerius Maximus says of the Athenian orator, that ' a great part of Demosthenes is wanting, for it must be heard and not read.' QuintiUan says of Hortensius, that ' there was something in him which strangely pleased when he spoke, which those who perused his orations could not find.' 2* 18 PULPIT ELOCUTION. The younger Pitt remarked that he could never conjecture, from reading his father's speeches, where their eloquence lay hidden. And there have been thousands of preachers, who tittered truths which no stenographer could seize ; which no ready writer, with a command of the most extensive vocabu- lary, could transfer to the silent page, for they were truths that beamed from the eye, and were breathed out in the tones of the voice, and were visible in the gesture, but could not be circumscribed within arbitrary symbols. Conventional terms form the body of the preacher's utter- ance, but the soul of it is that natural language which God bas made indispensable to the life-giving power of artificial speech. The ordinance of preaching, then, is no arbitrary •appointment of Heaven. It was wisely chosen, as the means most philosophically adapted to impress the mind with reli- gious truth. The more perfect the preaching is, so much the more exquisite is its adaptation to produce the intended effect. Other things being equal, that sermon will be the most effica- cious which is delivered in the best manner. The very prin- ciple, on which the preaching of the gospel is more useful than the publication of it from the press, makes a natural and •expressive style of preaching it more useful than a style "which does not correspond with the demands of the subject. The very reason, for which God requires us to preach the word, makes it necessary to preach it well, to speak according to the best rules of elocution, which are no other than the rules prescribed by nature, by the God of nature. Much of that which passes under the name of preaching, does not desers^e the name. It may be called a poor kind of singing, a tedious method of drawling, a soporific way of reading, but it is not the living utterance of such thought as enkindles the eye, the gushing forth of those emotions which cannot be fully expressed except in the forms of eloquence. One reason why preaching is less effective than we should antecedently expect it to be, is the fact that there is less of it than we ordinarily suppose. All the dull, clumsy, turgid, weak, insipid, and in any way affected methods of delivery, IMPOETANCE OF THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 19 are to be subtracted from the sum total of what is denom- inated preaching ; and then how small is the remainder ! God will honour the laws which he has made, and will man- ifest his displeasure toward the violation of these laws. The true rules of elocution are established by the Author of our being, and will not be obeyed without advantage nor diso- beyed without loss ; and no preacher can regard himself as serving God or doing good to man in the act of contravening the laws of speech. He may be useful in spite of his oppo- sition to nature and providence, but not by means of that op- position. Truth ill administered may do good ; truth well administered will do more. The proprieties of the adminis- tration add a power to the truth ; the improprieties of the administration take a power away from it. It has long been a desire of good men, to make the servi- ces of the sanctuary as attractive as possible. Music, and architecture, and painting, and sculpture have all imparted of their fascinations to the exercises of worship. Every age has witnessed the invention of some new rite, or the restora- tion of one that had become obsolete. New measures and strange measures have made their appeal to the fancy of men, and have charmed it for a time. But the chief attraction of public worship has been too much overlooked. The great majority of nominal Christians have preferred the gorgeous- ness of a ceremonial above the eloquence of the pulpit. And yet none of the fine arts is so attractive as eloquence. The most philosophical skeptic whom the English world has seen, declared that he would travel twenty miles to hear the preach- ing of a certain Methodist minister. There is something in the voice of an orator, that answers to a demand of the soul. By the flashes of his eye, the heart of an audience is inflamed ; and men are sometimes spell- bound by the upraising of his hand. Whether they love or hate the truth which is addressed to them, they are enamour- ed of the form in which it appears. Many an obnoxious doc- trine of the Bible lies embedded in a sweet historical narra- tive, which allures even such as dislike the doctrine. The 20 PULPIT ELOCUTION. casket may enclose a pearl, which is less highly prized than the gold in which it is encased. But thousands who come to admire the winning elocution, remain to adore the great Be- ing whose character is so appropriately described. It is the genius of Romanism to raise the orchestra and the parade of the altar above the pulpit. Only a small proportion of its priests have cultivated the art of speaking. They have but little encouragement to do so. The forms of Christian wor- ship most prevalent throughout the world, have tended to withdi'aw the mind from the proper methods of proclaiming divine truth. Men have been allured into the sanctuary by less intellectual and more artificial attractions, than those of a racy and graceful eloquence. It is, or must we say, it should be the glory of the pulpit, to restore the appropri- ate allurements to Christian worship ; to fascinate men by thoughts well attired, well exhibited. The mind was made for thought, and will be pleased with it longer than with any external ornament. And thought expressed, is thought still. The enunciation of it increases its influence over the souL There never was an age so intellectual as the present. Our lyceums have well nigh supplanted our theatres. It is then a great mistake to spend our time in decorating our ceremo- nials of worship, when the taste of the age requires some- thing more spiritual and refined than mere pageantry. It requires a more copious supply of facts and arguments and illustrations than is now to be found, and a more interesting manner of exhibiting them. If we would meet the demands of our time, and, indeed, of all times, we must prefer those ornaments which are the natural and appropriate dress of truth, to those which are factitious and far-fetched. The graces of elocution are those which belong to the truth itself. The expressiveness of atti- tudes and gestures and tones, is nature. It flows from the mind. It is the result of the inspiration of thought. Statues and pictures and robes are artificial adornings of the temple ; but the apostle who ' cannot hut speak the things which he hath seen and heard,' will be a permanent as well as an ap- IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 21 propriate attraction to the sanctuary ; and men who would soon be satiated with the chauntings of the matins and the vespers, will come again and again to hear the preacher who speaks like one anointed to publish glad tidings. Let it not be said, that this mode of speaking is the result of divine grace. The gifts of the Spirit never supersede the necessity of assiduous culture. Nor let it be said, that an effective elocution must be a natural endowment. God be- stows upon men the faculties, which are to be improved by laborious training. All men cannot be orators, but the major- ity of men may be. The majority of men are eloquent, when they speak for their selfish interests. It is a corrupt habit, which has made our speakers so sluggish ; and now cultiva- tion is required in order to restore the nature which has been expelled by evil practice. The elocutionist labours not to make men artificial, but to make them cease from being so ; not to mend or transform nature, but to restore and develop it. He labours to repress the intrusions of a proud, selfish spirit into the style of a preacher ; to excite the dormant energies of a mind, which has been in the habit of contemplating truth with indiffer- ence ; to rectify the depraved tastes of depraved men ; and to teach those subordinate graces of utterance, which would never have been forgotten if man had not been sluggish, re- gardless of his influence over others, unmindful of his accoun- tability to Heaven for every gift which he has received. In fine, the elocutionist labours to make the preacher natural, and therefore impressive, and thus attractive. The natural- ness is to be the proper expression of the truth ; the impres- siveness is to be the legitimate effect of the thought fitly ut- tered ; and the attractiveness is to be the alluring influence, which the purity and firmness and grandeur of the word of God always exert upon a soul that is attuned to the love of holiness, or even awake to the beauties of intellect. 22 PULPIT ELOCUTION. THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION, AN IMPORTANT PAllT OF THE PREPARATION REQUIRED BY THE PUBLIC DU- TIES OF THE MINISTRY. [Contributed by the Rev. Edward N. Kirk, pastor of the Mount Vernon Church, Boston.] It is easy to recognize the difference between a speaker who is agreeable and one who is disagreeable, between one who is powerful and another who is feeble. Nor can any one entertain a doubt whether that difference is just as obvious in the pulpit as in the senate. Every preacher would desire so to deliver his sermon as that his meaning should be clearly per- ceived and his sentiments deeply felt, rather than to utter it in a manner unintelligible and unimpressive. Every congrega- tion of worshippers would prefer in their pastor a good deliv- ery, to an awkward and disagreeable style of speaking. Let two men of equal piety and scholarship be presented to any of ourHreligious societies ; the one a man of easy, becoming carriage in the pulpit, of simple, natural and powerful utter- ance ; the other uncouth in attitude and movement, indistinct and stammering in his enunciation, and wearisome in his drawling tones ; can any man in his senses doubt, which of the two will be chosen ? No ; thus far the case is plain. But if we go back of this, and observe this finished speaker in the detail of his studies and vocal gymnastics, practising " his start theatric at the glass," there we shall find some de- murring. Many who admire the orator, are averse to the process of discipline which gave him the better style. There is, in other words, a prejudice in the community, and among many excellent candidates for the gospel ministry, in regard to elocution as an art to be obtained by study and practice. This prejudice is worthy of a candid examination and of an earnest effort to remove it. In the minds of some, the study and practice of elocution is connected, if not identified with the idea of substituting sound and emotion for sense and IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 23 truth. To such persons it may be suggested that there is no necessity for this substitution. The importance of elocution presupposes the importance of other things. If a preacher have not the right things to say, and the right motives and spirit in uttering them, manner can do nothing for him nor his. hearers. But for men who are morally and intellectually qualified to preach the gospel, the importance of manner can scarcely be overrated. And to overlook it is a proof neither of piety, dignity, nor wisdom. If there were some ethereal way of communicating with the mind ; if the process of preaching were designed to be mesmeric ; and people were to be put to sleep, instead of being aroused, in order to in- struct and impress them, we might dispense with elocution and the culture it requires. But so long as men are in the body, it will be found requisite for the most effective exercise of the ministry, that a part of clerical education consist in the study and practice of oratory. That necessity is founded on these two facts, that the communication of thought and feeling depends upon the right exercise of our bodily organs ; and that those organs are within the domain of that great law which requires the cultivation of the faculties. It is not suf- ficient for the purposes of electrical power that the battery be fully charged ; a good conductor must be added. Alas ! how much preaching is in the class of non-conductors. Elocution is indeed vanity and vexation of spirit in a man who has no other excellence ; but it multiplies indefinitely the power of him who possesses the solid qualities of the ministry. In the minds of others, elocution is identified with the os- tentatious exhibition of the parts and graces of the speaker. But this is confounding the use and the abuse of a good thino;. Since it is a man who is to be seen and heard, and since there is but one right way of speaking while there are a thousand wrong ways, the man will do well to learn the right. And if the agreeable impression produced by an agreeable person and manner can conduce to the right impressions of truth, the very purity of his desire to do good should induce him to cultivate his person and his manner. There is no- 24 PULPIT ELOCUTION. thing in the study of elocution peculiarly adapted to awaken vanity. Nor is there any more inducement for an eloquent man to make display his end, than for a learned man. Others fear that they shall be tempted to turn their atten- tion in the pulpit, to gestures and tones ; and thus infi- nitely degrade their high vocation. This again is a possible, but by no means a necessary consequence. It is a perver- sion of oratory. There is no more need of bringing the rules of oratory into the pulpit, than the rules of grammar or rhet- oric. Both must be studied, and both must exercise a pow- erful influence in the pulpit ; but neither must be seen there, for an instant diverting the current of thought or feeling in the speaker. The greatest orator, in an extemporaneous address, pays strict attention to the minutest rules of gram- mar. In constructing a long and complex sentence, he ob- serves with scrupulous exactness the bearing of grammatical rules upon the inflection and position of each word ; but there is no interruption in all this to the concentrated action of his understanding, no extinction of the fiery current of his feel- ing. The rules of elocution are designed to form the man, to correct the bad habits of attitude, speech, and gesture, to make the body, in every way, the fit instrument for a mind full of noble thoughts and powerful emotions. There may be cases of half-fledged orators or of pedantic speakers turn- ing the rostrum or the pulpit into the platform of a school, and showing off the attitudes and tones and gestures which they admire as mere attitudes, tones and gestures. But all this, we repeat, is perversion, equally disgusting with the parade of scholarship or any other form of pedantry in the sacred place, but no more a reason against the study of elocution than against that of Hebrew or rhetoric. The considerations in favour of this study are so obvious, that we seem to be uttering common places in presenting them. But since it is evident that these considerations have not yet produced their proper effect on our students of theol- ogy ; since we are still compelled to witness the bodily dis- tortions, the croakings and jerkings and screamings, the false IMPORTANCE OP THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 20 emphasis, and the unmeaning modulations which now are, to some extent, echpsing the brightest lights of the American pulpit, — we feel compelled to utter common-place truths. We design, then, to show that good speaking is better than bad speaking, that propriety in speaking is more proper than impropriety. And if our chapter appears to be unworthy of a place in this work, let it be set down to the fact that men, wise men, need to be told such obvious truths, as when writ- ten, appear childish. A preacher of the gospel is to perform the most important of his ministerial services in the pulpit. Within that sacred enclosure he spends some of the most important hours of his life. There he exhausts his physical energies ; there he strikes the chord that shall vibrate in the joys or sorrows of his hearers, forever. In every view of the case, then, the best mode of occupying the pulpit, and of exercising his functions in it, cannot be unimportant. If there be a way of diminish- ing the weariness of the speaker ; if there be a way of pre- venting some of the disastrous physical eflPects of public speak- ing, surely a wise man will not think the matter beneath his notijce. If there be one way of standing and speaking more agreeable to an audience than another, surely a benevolent man will choose the better way. And much more if there be a way of making one's self better understood, and one's sen- timents more deeply felt by an audience, no honest preacher can undervalue the instruction that will make him to know it, nor the discipline by which he may attain to it. But all these things are capable of demonstration. If we begin with the least important, the ease and health of the preacher ; we may see that a speaker who has learned to stand in the pul- pit on two feet, will be less fatigued, at the end of an hour, than if he has been limping and hopping on one foot, as we: have seen preachers do ; twining one limb around the other, as the ivy embraces the oak. By the disastrous effects of public speaking, we mean the derangement of the functions of the throat and chest. There is a mode of employing the vocal muscles, which seriously and needlessly wastes the ner* 3 Ttm PtJLPIT ELOCTTTION. vous energy of the system, inflames the membrane of the throat and the delicate structure of the bronchia. All this could be avoided by learning to use the muscles that were designed for the purpose, and so to speak, that the respira- tion and pulsation and vocal utterance shall move in harmony ; and an hour's speaking will then be, for the body, merely a healthful exercise. This is not exaggeration. The recent experience of some preachers, who, by proper exercises have totally recovered the use of their vocal powers, and have learned to speak with an ease to which they were formerly strangers in the pulpit, confirms it. A young minister will find difliculties enough in his work, to make the diminution of those which are merely physical, a matter of some moment to him. Nor do we deem it unworthy of a preacher's attention that he should remove everj'thing unnecessarily disagreeable from his speaking, and add to it everything that is adapted to sat- isfy the refined taste of his hearers. When Cowper expresses his abhorrence of the * start theatric practised at the glass,' all the world approves the censure, because all the world un- derstands him to mean the affected and contemptible exhibi- tion of one's self as the object of admiration to an assembly, who are waiting to hear a message from God. There certainly is neither piety nor power in clownishness. And it cannot be denied that if some speakers had practised their attitudes and starts before a glass, they would never have inflicted them on their hearers. It is true, that people of good taste will bear much from the pulpit, which, in the parlour, would seem to them offensive. But there is an evident impropriety and dis- advantage in so taxing their respect for the office and its in- cumbent. The preacher is often called to speak unpalatable truths. There is thus a sufficient degree of offensiveness in his employment, to spare him from superadding that which may arise from uncouth positions and motions of the body, grimaces and frowns, monotony and false emphasis. An audience is often wearied under a sermon full of sound sense, distinctive remarks, and the fervent spirit of piety. They IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 27 often associate with a preacher of sterling excellence some uncomfortable feelings. They know not why ; for he is a good man, a sensible man, a man of true piety and a good theologian. The true reason is, that he wearies the ear. The mind of every hearer is so constituted, that variety pleases, and monotony wearies it. This is true of the body also. The muscles of the limbs, the organs of taste, the eye, the ear, all demand variety. And while the highest moral effect from discourse, demands unity, this law of the mind re- quires, at the same time, variety in unity. This principle should control alike the thought, the style, and the delivery. The unity of delivery depends upon the pitch and general current of the voice ; the variety depends not only upon the occasional variation of pitch and direction, but upon another circumstance which we would briefly explain. The spoken English language contains upwards of forty distinct sounds. Some of them are very grateful to the ear ; and all of them together make the music of our language. Now it generally happens that every uncultivated speaker fails to utter several of them ; and usually those which are the most musical. He likewise gives those which he does employ, too much in the same mould. Indolence has made every one pronounce his words as much alike as is consistent with being understood. Hence it results that some of the most musical sounds of our language, are not heard from the lips of many speakers ; and instead of more than forty, uttered in their varied combina- tions, we are confined to a greater or less number below this. The hearers do not know why, but their minds seldom con- tinue aroused to the end of some discourses, when they know, at the same time, that the preacher thinks well and writes well. The monotony of sound itself is sufficient to account for it. To overcome this indolent and inelegant habit, re- quires the careful cultivation of the ear, to distinguish these sounds, and of the vocal organs to utter them with precision and purity. But these considerations are still inferior to another, which is, that the perspicuity and impressiveness of a discourse re- 28 PULPIT ELOCUTION. quire a correct delivery. The shades of thought in the mind depend for their correct expression, not merely upon words, hut also upon the mode of pronouncing them. It scarcely needs to be repeated here that a bad emphasis may make a true statement become a falsehood. It is not merely the tongue that speaks ; the whole frame utters a language defi- nite and powerful. The moment a speaker rises before an audience, he makes an impression. His attitude is a lan- guage. If he be a man of true dignity, and his soul be ele- vated by the noblest sentiments ; he may, for want of a pro- per cultivation of his body, produce the contrary impression on his hearers. An erect attitude is dignified, and becomes no man more than him who approaches his fellows with mes- sages from God. And every man of true dignity should ac- custom his body to correspond to his mind, and not to belie it. Physical uprightness is not an unbecoming representa- tive and expression of moral rectitude. There is more moral effect on an audience in a posture which presents the expand- ed front, than in the side-posture of a fencing-master. There is also more power in the gestures which are made by a body firmly sustained, than by one which reels upon its base. The voice, too, is capable of countless inflections, each one of which is itself a language to the soul. Every shade of sentiment in a discourse has an appropriate modulation of the voice ; and if that modulation be not made, that sentiment must lie buried in the bosom of the speaker : the hearer fails just so far to participate in it. With many preachers the exercise of read- ing the Scriptures and the hymns, appears to be a mere form. This is a great loss to their hearers. The reading of the Scrip- tures by Dr. John Mason, was said to be a commentary on them. The reading of the hymns by Mr. Nettleton, was of- ten a sermon to the assembly. All this may be admitted, however, and yet the conviction not be received, of the importance of cultivating elocution. Let it then be repeated, that the powers of utterance come under the great law of education, which pertains to the entire man. No physical function of man is capable of greater im- IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 29 provement than the voice. Its compass, its musical quality, its distinctness, its flexibility, its delicate utterance of senti- ment, admit of indefinite improvement. The oratorical taste, too, can be cultivated to a very high degree ; so that the body shall enter into the most delicate sympathy with the mind and heart, and faithfully symbohze to every other eye and ear all the wonderful workings of the spiritual man. The age of miracles is past. And since * it has pleased God, by the foolishness of preaching to save ' men ; and since preaching employs organs and faculties which we find to be capable of so great improvement, we must believe that God will employ a preacher who has cultivated his oratorical powers, to do a greater amount of good by preaching, than another of equal piety and learning, who has neglected this cultivation. From the present style of the pulpit and the senate, one might sup- pose that the age of eloquence is past. We beHeve it is yet to come. The power of a preached gospel is yet to be seen as our eyes have not seen it. And if we may still further express our anticipations, we believe that three things are de- manded for the coming of that age ; a stronger faith in God and his word, a profounder knowledge of divine and human things, a thorough cultivation of the functions of speech. ELOCUTION, AS A DEPARTMENT OF PREPARATORY STUDY IN THEOLOGY. [By the Author of the present volume.] The preceding observations will, no doubt, be received with that full weight of effect, which justly belongs to the sources from which they come. Nor would the author feel disposed to present his own thoughts on the subject, were it not for the necessity of meeting objections such as he hears frequently offered to the systematic study of elocution, as either unnecessary or injurious. A teacher in the department of elocution, has to commu- 3* so PULPIT ELOCUTION. nicate with minds under every variety of impression on the subject of culture. He meets, occasionally, with students ■whose lack of self-confidence, and even of a just self-reliance, leads them to despair of effecting anything in the way of suc- 'Cessful cultivation, even after the most resolute and persever- ing exertions. He finds, sometimes, on the other hand, those whose self-esteem induces a perfect satisfaction with their habitual manner, be it what it may, and who are confident that they need little aid from any source but what is within themselves. He sees, perhaps, one individual who has form- ed an undue estimation of mere tuition and preparatory train- ing, and who evidently expects too much from such aids, and subjects himself too passively to mere processes ; and another who, from superficial attention to the merits of the question, or from prejudice or whim, contemns cultivation, as a thing wholly supererogatory, or necessarily artificial and false, or, at best, but mechanical and external. An instructor has therefore to urge, on some minds, the value and importance of the processes of culture in this de- partment of education, and to dwell on things familiar or self-evident to other minds. The objections to systematic training in elocution, espe- cially with reference to the purposes of the pulpit, are often founded on grounds apparently just, or, certainly, quite plau- sible. Standing on the broad ground that the great point in expression, is tjie utterance of feeling, the objector maintains that nothing else is requisite, — that no rule can be required, when feeling is genuine, — that what a man feels deeply he must express strongly and truly, and therefore eloquently, — that to propose the idea of referring to a rule, when under an impulse of emotion, is absurd, — that utterance modified by rule is but an artificial mimicry of emotion, — that the idea of one man learning of another how to express his own feelings, is ridiculous, — that, if a speaker really has anything to say, he will easily find the way to say it. But alas ! the eloquent nullifier of cultivation, is, perhaps, in the meantime, uttering his very objections in the nasal IMPORTANCE OP THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 31 tone which habit has made second nature and truth to him, but which, to one unaccustomed to hear the tones of the hu- man voice assimilated to those of an ill-played violin, is capa- ble of exciting no emotions but those of the risible order : or he is emitting his voice with the guttural tones which, some- times, make man approach the quadruped, in his utterance ; he is articulating his words so imperfectly, that one syllable obliterates another ; or he is marking his emphasis with a double twist of intensity, which seems to verify, on the spot, the half-raalicious assertion of Dickens, that ' the Americans search out every unaccented syllable in a word, to give it an accent, and every unemphatic word in a sentence, to clap an emphasis upon it ;' and, — from want of natural or acquired ear for the character of vocal tone, — he is, perhaps, all the while, using a coarse violence of voice, which makes his ear- nestness become the vehemence of an angry dispute. — The opponent of cultivation forgets, in fact, that the radical doc- trine of no culture, is true only on condition that natural and acquired habits are perfect in the community in which an in- dividual is educated, and consequently in himself. But, even suppose such a state of things to exist, a gener- ous and truly philosophic view of human culture, would lead to a very different conclusion, as we see in the practice of the ancient Athenians — that people so exquisitely perfect in phy- sical organization, so quick and susceptible in ear, so delicate and true in taste, so vivid in feeling, so poetic in imagination, so subtle and refined in intellect, so intensely ardent in tem- perament, so expressive, so eloquent, in speech and action. It was that very people, — so endued with every grace of na- ture and every accomplishment of art, — that carried the sys- tematic study of eloquence, and the artistic discipline of voice and person, tone, look, attitude, and action, to the high- est point of cultivation, — that left no expedient untried, by which thought and emotion might be most efficaciously ad- dressed to the mind, through the appointed avenues of sense. The raw youth who is objecting to cultivation, as some- thing that will mar the symmetry or impair the originality of 32 PULPIT ELOCUTION. . his genius, forgets that the two most eloquent of men, — De- mosthenes, among the Greeks, and Cicero, among the Ro- mans, — were the most assiduous, the most rigorous, the most literal self-cultivators, in the humblest and minutest details of practical elocution. Surely, if ever there was a community in which system- atic discipline might have been dispensed with, it was that of Athens, whose humblest citizen was daily listening to the eloquence of Demosthenes, to the tragedies of -^schylus, So- phocles, and Euripides ; living in the daily vision of archi- tectural structures like the Parthenon, and of sculptures such as those of Phidias ; listening to a music worthy of these sis- ter arts, or to the recitation of the ' rhapsodies' of Homer. But it was in that very community that oratory had its diversified orders of schools and seminaries, for the formation of the voice, and for the moulding of the body. The superficial, popular objection, that the Grecian cul- ture was fastidious, minute, and fanciful, is wholly gratuitous. Men such as Demosthenes and Cicero could not have sub- mitted to a fantastic discipline. The former stands acknow- ledged the strongest and manliest specimen of mind, that his- tory has preserved to us ; the latter, the most practical in tendency, and the most various in power, character, and ac- complishment. The indefatigable self-culture of the former, and its sanction by the practice of the latter, — when himself in Greece, — are facts against which it is in vain to dispute. How then can we regard the presumption of him who, without study, and without practice, assumes the duties of an ofiice which implies the power of persuasive and impressive discourse on the highest themes of thought, the noblest rela- tions of being, and the profoundest emotions of the soul? The prince of Roman orators regarded the prelusive tremor of anxiety as an indispensable token of the earnest speaker at the judiciary tribunal, — what a reproof to the self-suj05- ciency which can afford to dispense with the idea of cultiva- tion, for the loftiest purposes of speech ! But let us return, for a moment, to the actual state of the IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 33 case. Whatever may have been the condition of things in an- cient Greece or Rome, where a universal taste for eloquence, and the prevalent passion for distinction and renown, may have contributed much to foster the cultivation of oratory ; it is a fact universally admitted, that the Anglo-Saxon constitu- tion and temperament do not confer a predisposition to elo- quence in its external relations. An instructive contrast presents itself in the case of the Irish nation. That people are, — from the noble to the peasant, — constitutionally ex- pressive and eloquent, in attitude, action, look, and tone. The' Englishman may be galled into indignant invective, he may be roused to forcible argument ; but he is not spontaneously eloquent. The Scotchman may be rich in the mental mate- rials of eloquence, in the poetry of thought, in the pathos of feeling, in the play of imagination ; but he is not externally expressive — quite otherwise, — he is awkward, rather. A similar distinction obviously exists, in the United States, be- tween the native dignity of deportment and the eloquent ex- pression, so, generally characteristic of the people of the South, contrasted with the rigid, cold, hard, dry, angular, and reserved manner, which prevails in New England.* The chill exterior of the Anglo-Saxon race, — although en- vironing a world of interior and central fire, — freezes the stream of expressive feeling, and encrusts the surface of char- acter and manner. The prevalent notion in old and in New England, alike, — that manliness demands reserve, and dig- nity, stififness, — throws a morbid restraint over the tendencies of nature to communication and expression, and prematurely quenches the capability of eloquence in exterior manner. Here is one reason why, with us, the express cultivation of manner in speaking, becomes so important, as a compensa- tion for the prevalence of counteracting habit in social and domestic life. The vivacious, the tasteful, the spirited, the graceful, ethereal Greek might, perhaps, have dispensed with * It was not a random remark in a late American divine, that the Norman, not the Saxon spirit, seemed to characterize our Southern States. 9* PULPIT ELOCUTION. the culture of manner in expressive utterance. Not so with the blunt, surly, and taciturn Englishman, or with the angu- lar, mechanical, and constrained New Englander. But our impediments to eloquence of manner, do not lie in constitution and habit only ; they are embedded into our systems of education. Our schools and colleges equally tend to produce a false and inexpressive style of speaking. We take a boy, at an early age, without previous moulding, and place him on the platform of the school rostrum, to speak a set speech, a formal declamation, or a political harangue, of which he knows little, and feels less. Such is our first step in oratorical training. Could the result be other than what it so generally is ? Our boys early acquire an unnatural, formal, old-man-like style of speaking, which has no heart, — no truth, — no reality, — no vividness, — no genuine earnest- ness ; although, under the exciting influence of circumstan- ces, it may be forced, occasionally, from the monotony of the pulpit, into the hacking and jagged style of the bar, the tur- gid vehemence of the popular declaimer, or the unnatural violence of the partisan champion. The unmeaning tone and manner, thus contracted in early years, become, unconsciously to the individual, the fixed habits of after life; the college declamation confirms the style acquired at school; and the professional institution stamps, with its irrevocable seal, the manner of the man in his maturity. Hence the rarity, among us, of the accom- phshment of a chaste, easy, and natural style of speaking, of the power of rising gracefully and appropriately with the in- spiration of a subject, — of becoming forcible, yet free from violence, — of expressing strong emotion, without turbulence. Cultivation of manner in speaking, is rendered highly im- portant, not only by circumstances which affect races and communities of men, but by those, also, which act upon the individual. Who is there that can say he has been duly educated, by the silent but most effective of all teaching, — that of perfect example, operating from childhood to man- hood ? Who is there, of whom it can be justly said, that he IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 35 is free from every vice of organ and of habit, in speech or action? — The fault of misarticulating a single letter, may effectually vitiate a speaker's habit of enunciation ; a single ungainly trick of gesture, may render his whole manner ridiculous. How often is a gross and glaring fault the pre- dominating characteristic of the self-confident speaker who derides the idea of cultivation ! Objections to the study of elocution, however, are usually founded on erroneous views of its design and effect. It is thought to involve artificial processes and artificial results, — to be a fabricated attempt, to imitate nature, a process of wire- pulling, by which the voice and the arms are to be mechani- cally moved and displayed, by rule. No view can be more false than this. Elocution is, indeed, the art of managing the voice and the person, in the act of speech. But, like every other form of genuine art, it is only the highest and the best, the truest forms of nature imbodied in practice. Man naturally possesses and employs all the elements of this art. The child is, in his sphere, the perfect model for the orator, — the living poet of expression. But the child, as he emerges successively into the boy, the youth, the man, — just, as according to the poet, he lets the divine ray within him * fade into the common light of day,' — loses this original and admirable faculty, in the dull routine of formal education. He unconsciously sacrifices nature to the lowest of all the shapes of art, — that of conventional habit, — the machinery of arbitrary form. The human being, as he goes on from that beautiful spot in his early life, where all was truth and beauty and power, poetry and eloquence, — from the time when every look, and tone, and action was inspired with the truest and most ex- pressive life, — would carry the atmosphere of that scene with him, and expand in power of expression, as his intellect ex- panded. But the expressive powers of the boy, are neglect- ed, and left to wither. Our places of education make no provision for the culture of imagination and feeling, — the main-springs of living communication. Ob PtJLPIT ELOCtJTION. •The young child is surrounded, in the great school of nature, with innumerable objects which elicit expression from the heart ; and his impressible imagination assimilates itself to the scene, and takes on and gives off, with ease, and with brilliant effect, the choicest forms of eloquent tone, at- titude, and action. But when the period of school-life is arrived, these rich sources of influence are, in a degree, cut off, or he is debarred from them. The close room, the bench, and the book, take the place of the inspiring air, the green bank, and its alphabet of flowers. The oxygen of life is withdrawn ; the lungs play feebly ; the circulation lags ; the spirit of communication is quenched ; the brain becomes dull and inert ; the mind is impoverished ; the heart is quelled ; the fancy languishes ; the hours become irksome from the sense of weariness and restraint. Nor does an inspiring in- tellectual activity take the place of nature's incitements : the mental processes, on the contrary, are, principally, mechani- cal and insipid, — a weary round of senseless reiteration of unmeaning and unintelligible sounds, amid which the atten- tion works with the movement of the mill-horse, in its never ending, never changing round. But the scene is not shifted, even when ceaseless reitera- tion has left its mark on the memory, and the arbitrary pro- cess of spelling and syllabication, has been repeated till the mind has become expert in the mechanical operation of read- ing. The little student of written language, is then present- ed, perhaps, with a book of abstract sentences which, to him, are unintelligible, or, at most, lifeless successions of sound uninspired by feeling ; in which imagination, — with its ut- most stretch of inventive power, — can find no food, and amid which it gradually dies out. Add to all this neglect and privation, the effect of being drilled into the habit of duly * pausing till you can count one,' at every comma, — of giv- ing an emphasis on the model of the pedantic circumflex of the schoolmaster, and uttering the tones of emotion in the style of his stereotype utterance ; and the usual consumma- tion is attained ; the power of natural, free, expressive voice, IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 37' is utterly eradicated ; and the transplanted scion of false habit, has taken most effectual root. The eloquent child has become a dull and mistuned reader, and is fully prepared to- become, in his next stage of education, a lifeless and soul- less speaker. What elocution aims at, under these circumstances, is to> restore the lost power of expression, to inspire natural life- into the voice, to strip off the incrustation of mechanical- habit, and leave the soul again free to utter itself in whatever- mood nature prompts to the individual. Elocution prescribes no technical uniformity of manner : it, in the first place,, hands to the student the implements of scientific analysis,. and enables him to detect the complexities of tone, and to- become familiar with every element, in all its varied aspects of combination ; and, since the date of Dr. Rush's masterly analytic exhibition of the human voice, the requisite pro- cesses have become as definite and as tangible as those of" music. Having accomplished its office as a science, elocutioa next presents itself as an art, and aids the student in recon- structing the vocal fabric ; inserting every element in its due. place, according to its character, — with the observant eye- faithfully fixed on nature, as the only model ; but careful- ly discriminating between the local, corrupted exhibitions of nature, in mechanical habit, and the free, general work- ing of nature as a principle; — distinguishing the specialities^ of actual usage from its broad axioms and laws. Elocution, when true to its purposes, thus emancipates, the individual from the trammels of mere accidental habit and corrupted custom, and sets him out on a new career of' action, in which he is guided by conscious knowledge, by in- telligent preference, by recognized truth, by reflective judg- ment, and deliberate will, by personal organization, and indi-^ vidual character, — the true sources of eloquence in exter- nal manner. Our present defective systems of education, leave this work as a task of self-cultivation, for every student who. would succeed in acquiring the power of expressive utter- 4 9^ PULPIT ELOCUTION. ance ; and years of assiduous endeavour are surely not too high a price to pay for such an acquirement. The eradi- cation of the false habits which neglect and misdirected cul- ture have accumulated, would, alone, render necessary a long and laborious course of application. The universal tone, for example, of our academic * exhibitions,' displays false in- tonation and partial song, throughout. No student gives us, on such occasions, his own personal tone, but a certain aver- age result of all the arbitrary effects of voice, which he has heard others use, in similar circumstances. We hear, from every speaker, but a succession of sentences, in which sound seems, — so to speak, — to have become stereotyped of old, and thence to have descended, as an inheritance, to successive generations, to be regularly assumed with the orator's aca- demic gown.* * That the author's strictures on the deficiencies of established modes of education, as regards systematic culture in elocution, are not unfound- ed, may be inferred from the following facts, which indicate a spirit of retrogradation, rather than advancement. When the author commenced his instructions in elocution, at Harvard University, and the Latin and High Schools of Boston, in the year 1825, all the requisite facihties for his pui-poses were readily extended to him, by the proper authorities, and continued for successive yeai-s. But, of late, when, in repeated instances, students, who, in their early life, had been under the author's instruction, have been desirous of continuing to receive it, — they have been discouraged or prohibited from doing so ; and, even when numbers have formed themselves into classes, and solicited the aid of being allowed to receive then- instruction in one of the Univer- sit}' halls, the use of a room has been refused. The mere letter of a law prohibiting students from deriving instruction from any source but the university, — even if the Gothic pohcy of such a law can be sanctioned in a free community, — is no plea in a case in which such instniction had been previously approved, and even solicited, at intervals, for nearly twenty years. It is a fact of kindred character, that those who control the regulations of the Latin and High Schools of Boston, — instead of encouraging, as foi-merly, the pupils of those schools to study elocution more extensively than the prescribed limits of the school routine allow, — actually restrain them from it, by the most effectual of all prohibitions,— that of striking off from the list of competitors for prizes, the names of those who are known to take the benefit of private tuition. The policy of this measure IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 39 The false intonation thus cherished in academies and col- leges, reappears in professional life, in the dry, mechanical modulation of the lawyer, the heavy and somnolent tones of the clergyman, and the * inexplicable dumb show and noise' of the popular declaimer. The office of elocution is to enable the student to detect and avoid the various forms of error in general usage, and in the habits of the individual, — to assist him in throwing off the load of unmeaning and unnatural custom, and to give him direct access to the hearts of others, by the true and full ex- pression of his own. But even if there were no obstructions to progress, such as those which have been described, — did every student actual- ly enjoy the advantage of starting on his mental career, un- embarrassed by any hinderance of habit or circumstance, — the very growth and expansion of his intellectual character, would be ever making new demands for a commensurate power of expression. A mind furnished with all possible accumulations of thought, — to him who cannot give them utterance, is but ^ the locked coffer, without its key.' — Every step up the steep of knowledge, calls forth, in the rightly con- stituted mind, a new fountain of emotion, a new world of as- sociation for scope to the inventive faculty, and therefore de- may be very plausible : its injurious effect on the branch of education which is concerned in it, is obvious. So indifferent is the community, as yet, to this important part of edu- cation, that when Mr. J. E. Murdoch, the most accomplished elocution- ist in the United States, made the most arduous efforts to estabUsh a permanent seminary for elocutionary instruction, his exertions met with no adequate support 5 so that, after presenting to the city of Boston one of the noblest oppoitunities ever offered for oratorical training, he has been permitted to tranfer his admirable talents to the sphere of the stage. The youth who desires the benefit of culture in elocution, must rely on his own diligence. The transient and imperfect aid to which our litera- ry institutions now limit him, can effect but little. To communities such as ours, in which public speaking is so frequently the indispensable duty of individuals, an ample provision for instruction in the art of elocution, might be justly expected to exist. But its absence necessarily devolves on students individually the greater exertion, in self-culture. 40 PULPIT ELOCUTION. mands a new power of utterance. Fidelity to the duty of self-cultivation, requires of the student that he wrestle for the noblest achievements of self-mastery, in the acquisition of that power by which his organic constitution may become the worthy minister of his mind, and yield it a free and adequate utterance to others, of whatever sheds light on his own path, or imparts a new throb of life to his own heart. But the ob- ligation becomes inexpressibly enhanced, when we transfer it to the highest subjects of thought, and the purest move- ments of benevolent feeling. It is among the ordinations of Infinite wisdom, that, of all parts of man's organic structure, those which are employed in the functions of voice, are the most susceptible of culture and discipline. Look at the difference between the tune- hummings of the little boy, and the wonderful and impres- sive execution of the consummate vocalist. A similar transi- tion may be made in speech, by every human being who has sufficient force and steadfastness of will to insure the requi- site diligence in practice. The sense of duty, applied in this direction, will work its wonted wonders ; and every day's observation furnishes to the elocutionist the most striking examples of individuals commencing a course of self-culture, under immense disad- vantages of neglected habit and false training, yet achieving, within a few months, a complete triumph over all such ob- stacles, and becoming animated, correct, and impressive speakers. The claims of liberal education, on all who have enjoyed its benefits, seem to demand the perceptible fruits of mental culture in the student's acts of communication with his fellow- men. Rudeness of speech is a venial thing in the uneduca- ted ; but it is utterly unjustifiable in those who sustain to general society the weighty responsibilities which rest upon the scholar. To him who enjoys the stores of mental wealth. Humanity says, * Be not a niggard of thy wealth : be not a niggard of thy speech, which may impart that wealth, without impoverishmg thyself.' IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 41 To the occupant of the pulpit, the beseeching voices of ig- norance, of suffering, of degradation, all are lifted up, plead- ing for light, for sympathy, for renovation, in tones that would seem to make man desire the possession of angehc powers to put forth on their behalf. The offer of aid comes, too generally, from a voice that, — as far as the music of emo- tion is concerned, — bespeaks heartless indifference, listless apathy, utter inability to assist, or entire ignorance of the facts of the case. Aside from such considerations, however, the importance of culture and skill in address, as an indispensable qualifica- tion for the right discharge of the public duties of the profes- sion, is a subject which, at present, demands the earnest at- tention of students of theology. The public voice is loud and urgent on this point : the dissatisfaction with the deplo- rable deficiencies of manner which are so prevalent in the pulpit, is uttered with no sparing tone. Students, if they mingled more at large with the world, would hear expressions on this subject, which might well startle them. It is a gen- eral complaint, among congregations of every denomination, that the style of pulpit elocution is miserably low and defec- tive. To hear a sermon is not unfrequently spoken of as a matter of endurance, on the score of manner. It is not tran- scending the strictest limit of truth, on this subject, to say that society has become impatient and clamorous in regard to it. Elocutionists are well aware of the fact, that not a few religious societies, in various denominations, request of their ministers to put themselves under training, with a view to the remedy of defects of manner, which are so great as to prove obstacles to professional usefulness. The desecrating effects of the practice, so frequent in American churches, of dismissing incumbents from their charge, are, in very many instances, to be traced to an unin- teresting and unimpressive manner of preaching, as their original source. Of a hundred dismissions, not one can usual- ly be found to have happened in the case of an earnest and eloquent preacher. No congregation considers itself as ex- 4.* 4^ PULPIT ELOCUTION. cepting the item of qualification for the pulpit, in their stipu- lations with the individual whom they receive as their pas- tor ; and it is a, prevalent impression, that no society can flourish under the charge of one who is an indifferent speak- er. The world assumes due preparation for the duties of the pulpit, as a part of professional education. But, of all the theological institutions in the United States, there is not per- haps, one, which, by adequate arrangements to that effect, enables its students to receive the benefit of an express course of training in the art of speaking.* The mere opportunity of declaiming in turn, or some other expedient not more effi- •cacious, is all that is usually enjoyed by way of preparation for one of the most important acts that man can be called to perform in presence of his fellow-men. Theologians have slumbered over this great question : and the result is just what might be expected. The duties of the pulpit are, for the most part, miserably performed ; and the church and the "World have to abide the ^consequences. Nor can the fact <;ease to be otherwise, while it is the fixed custom, at profes- sional institutions, to devolve on one man the unreasonable load of labour inseparable from the double duty of teaching students to speak, as well as to write. But, say some, why make so much of this affair of exter- nal manner ? Admitting that a persuasive speaker always wins us, that an earnest one impresses us, and that a dull one wearies us, — why go through a long course of discipline to arrive at an earnest or a persuasive style of speaking ? Does * A similar deficiency, as to instruction and practice in elocution, ex- ists in most of our universities. Harvard, the wealthiest of them all, is unable to afford her students the benefit of adequate aid in this depart- ment. The miserable arrangement of mingling the duty of hearing De- clamation with that of attending to recitations in History and Political Economy, is all that this ancient and venerable institution is yet able to effect, in the way of providing instruction in the strictly useful art of speaking. The present incumbent who has charge of the laborious duty in question, does all that taste and talent can effect in such circum- stances. But the load of exertion imposed, in his case, is more than any one man can sustain. IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 43 it not all depend on earnest feeling or affectionate interest ? Is anything more than earnestness or warmth required, to produce this effect ? If a man really is in earnest, he must make people feel ; it cannot be otherwise. So argues the merchant, who, never in his life, perhaps, wrote twenty pages of consecutive thought which he after- wards read or spoke in a public assembly ; so argues, some- times, the lawyer, who, in his busy life, is mingling continu- ally with men in practical affairs, exciting and excited by the usual stimulants to communication, — interest, argument, pro- fessional repute ; but who seldom has been subjected to the discipline of successive days of seclusion, and silence, and profound meditation on a vast theme, and then called from this life-queliing process to the life-exhausting one of public speaking, once a week, — three times, perhaps, on the same day, — on themes which, by their very depth and solemnity, exhaust the cerebral and nervous systems, and, by the deep tones which they naturally require, equally exhaust the pow- ers of utterance. The vicissitude which the clergyman is called to undergo, in passing from the process of the study to that of the pulpit, is one in which he makes an instantaneous transition from the sedentary and passive habits of the student, to the active and energetic exertions of the public speaker. The seclusion and stillness of the week, and the intensity of his daily men- tal action, have disqualified him, corporeally, for the function of vigorous and impressive utterance, on the broad scale of regular public address. To him the act of professional speak- ing, — or still more, that of professional reading, — is peculiar- ly exhausting. Hence he is more frequently subjected to an impaired state of health, than one who, like the barrister, is less confined to the act of intense thought. To him it is doubly important that he should know how to use his voice skilfully, — effectively to others, and yet with ease to himself. The sedentary form of life to which he must ever be closely limited by the nature of his professional preparation, exposes 44 PULPIT ELOCUTION. him, peculiarly, to fatigue and injury, immediately consequent on the act of speaking. To speak extemporaneously, or from premeditation, will, it is true, exempt the preacher from many of the peculiarly injurious effects of his mode of professional life. But the prevalent demand of society, for the union of two incompati- ble effects in pulpit speaking, — that of a carefully elaborated written discourse, and that, — at the same time, — of a well- spoken address, devolves on him a double share both of in- tellectual and of corporeal exertion. To give his sermon the free and natural effect of speaking, he must either lose some- thing of the strict rhetorical character of his style of compo- sition, in consequence of withdrawing his eye so frequently from his manuscript as to lose the details of his written ex- pression ; or he must come into the pulpit, prepared by so repeated previous reading of his discourse, that it is virtually impressed on his memory. The practice of systematic elocution, is, in reference to such circumstances, an important aid to facility and impres- sive manner in reading, and lightens effectually the burden of the task to be performed. Nor is such labour light. Few persons who have not made the experiment, can be aware of the force of impression on the mind, or of the degree of ac- tion in brain and nerve, which is necessary to produce im- pressive reading oloud, in the space usually filled by the voice of the preacher, as contrasted with that which is experienced in merely receiving the ideas of an author, by the silent read- ing of the page of a book. All that is necessary, in the lat- ter case, is merely that the thought be passively received or felt, — up to the extent of the reader's receptive capacity ; in the former, the measure of thought and emotion must not on- ly be full but overflowing ; so that the surplus, as it were, of feeling, may be sufficient to carry along, in its tide, the sym- pathies of a whole audience. The public reader not only receives but imparts, and, as it were, stamps an impression. This active state of sympathy is what alone can convey a IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 45 sentiment from the heart of the reader to those of his hearers. The practice of elocution secures the power of producing such effects easily and without fatigue. It serves, also, to render, by this means, the function of public speaking a salu- tary instead of an exhausting process. It invigorates the organs, and secures them against injury. It lightens pro- fessional labour ; it tends to prolong life and protect health, while it secures an entire control over the voice, and makes it a ready and obedient instrument of the will. The study of elocution enables the speaker to give life and effect to every sentiment which he utters, and to send it home to the heart. It gives him a comparatively unlimited control over the attention and sympathies of those whom he addresses, and secures to what he utters a deep and perma- nent impression on the mind ; nor is it a slight consideration that it enables him to impart to all his utterance the attractions of propriety and grace. It insures, in a word, the whole bene- fit resulting from eloquence in manner. All that the elocutionist, as such, pleads for, is, that the student after fifteen years, perhaps, of misdirected practice in reading, would give but the vigorous and faithful exertions of one, to the reformation of habit, or, at least, to the attempt at reformation. Half an hour, diligently employed, twice a day, for a year, on the rudiments of the art, would usually suffice for the removal of prominent faults, and for the acqui- sition of the most important traits of a good elocution. The student of theology, who has yet the susceptibility of youthful life upon him, and the leisure to cultivate his pow- ers, and form his manner, and who, whether from self-suffi- ciency, or ignorance, or indolence, or diffidence, deliberately prefers to neglect the consecration of his active nature, in its highest capabilities of excellence, to the function which he means to assume, — the elocutionist may well despair of mov- ing by any argument which he can offer. The passive and lethargic pastor, who has given himself to his people, * for better, for worse,' and to whom the calling, visiting, and mis- 46 PULPIT ELOCUTION. cellaneous jobbing of his vocation, are sufficient excuses for neglecting its nobler offices, — is still farther removed from any influence of persuasion. But to both the teacher of elo- cution may be allowed to say, ' Look on this picture and on this,' — the uncultivated and the cultivated speaker in the pulpit. The former may, by no very improbable combination of chances, happen to exemplify all the following faults. He may have a had voice. The screech of his excited tones may absolutely harrow the ear ; he may have the gruflf voice of the skipper of a smuggling lugger, or a hard guttural ut- terance, with tones which are little short of a continuous as- sault and battery on the ear ; he may have the soft guttural tone of a voice choked in the throat, as if every sound came from the gullet ; he may have a uniform nasal twang, so strong as to provoke laughter ; or he may have a thin, weak voice, with a high piping note, which, when applied to the solemn language of deep feeling, creates a ludicrous incon- gruity. But how is he to become aware of such faults ? Habit has made the sound of his voice natural and true to his ear. Culture alone can correct such faults.* The preacher, who neglects the cultivation of his voice, suf- fers, sometimes, to a peculiar extent, the penalties of violated laws of organization. His vocal organs are the instruments of his professional action and usefulness ; yet he not only omits the use of the only means of invigorating them, but em- ploys them, perhaps, at the greatest disadvantage, from want of knowledge and skill in regard to the appropriate mode of exerting them, so as to avoid fatigue and exhaustion, and consequent loss of health. Individuals in this predicament * It is much to be regretted that, in many parts of the United States, humanizing culture takes so little effect on outward manner, and that, in New England, particularly, a round, smooth, agi-ecable voice, is not invariably the characteristic of mental culture and polish. The absence of natural and acquired refinement, is unequivocally indicated in the hideous tones of voice which are not unfrequently heard from the pulpit. IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 47 sink, perhaps, even in early life, under the effects of their de- structive habits in the use of the vocal organs. The uncultivated speaker sometimes renders himself dis- agreeable by his habitual violations of propriety and taste, his obvious slovenliness of style, or want of appropriate educa- tion, as regards the humble and merely rudimental attain- ment of correct pronunciation.* He may even fail in re- spect of a distinct articulation of syllables and sounds, so far as to obscure the sense of whatever he utters, or even to render him unintelligible. But of these evils he is unaware ; he has not been accustomed to watch his own habits ; he is, in this particular, the helpless victim of circumstances, which have moulded him, unconsciously to himself, into the grossest errors. An hour's practice with an elocutionist, would put it in his power to correct these faults in a few weeks, and to substitute for his errors a chaste and correct manner of pro- nouncing, and for his hurried, confused utterance an accurate, clear, distinct enunciation. The undisciplined speaker frequently exhibits a displeasing loudness or violence of voice, or, on the other hand, a faint and feeble utterance, which does not allow him to be heard. He may have a uniform bawling or calling force, which in- dicates no variation of feeling, no softening touch of subdued emotion ; or he may have nothing of that force which imparts manly energy to expression, and gives impulse to the heart. He may have, perhaps, that uniform medium of voice, which never swells or subsides with feeUng, and which renders his * It is matter of regret, that this subject is so much neglected in early education, and that professional men, generally, do so little justice to themselves and their language, by the numerous improprieties which they habitually exemplify in speech. New England, more particularly, is marked by the extensive prevalence of local faults, in this respect ; and most of these are owing to the sanction unfortunately given by Dr. Webster to such peculiarities. An obsolete and awkward style of pro- nunciation, has thus gained currency, even in places of learning. But many of Dr. Webster's modes are, at least, eighty years out of date, for the present day ; and not a few are absolute Scotticisms, and eiTors of dialect, pecuHar to Yorkshire or to New England. 48 PTTLPIT ELOCtTTlON. style utterly inexpressive and uninteresting. He has never studied the working of nature in vocal habit, or watched the ebb and flow of utterance, as the tide of emotion gushes forth, or subsides, in the voice. The rising and the lulling of the wind, seem to have taught his ear no lesson. But to all such effects cultivation would have opened his ear and his heart, and imparted their power to his utterance. The skilful emphasis of a good reader, which gives to the main points of his expression a sculptured prominence, and striking force of effect, the unpractised speaker has never ob- served. He gives little or no emphasis, at all ; or, on the other hand, he multiplies and crowds his emphatic loords, till his indiscriminate and perpetually recurring force, defeats its object, and destroys itself. He is thus compelled to give a double and exaggerated effect to all his actual emphasis, which makes him seem to be addressing an audience whose facul- ties were too obtuse, otherwise, to apprehend his meaning. He may even go so far with this habit of exaggeration as to make all his distinctions become epigrams in sound, and his significant expressions each one a pun, by its overcharged tone and tortuous circumflex.* But his ear has never been opened to the discriminations of kind and degree, in emphasis : he has never brought his organs under the influence of disci- pline, on such points : his attention, in fact, has never been turned to them. No wonder, then, that his emphasis should be so often exaggerated and disproportioned ; or that his em- phatic words should sometimes be thrown out with a jerk that would seem to intimate a sudden flash of impatience or ill temper, rather than a decisive act of judgment. Culture, however, would teach such a speaker to chasten his force by due regard to moderation and dignity of manner, and to di- rectness and simplicity of expression. The uncultivated speaker seems, usually, either to have * The intellectual and argumentative tendencies of the Scotch and of New Englandcrs, impart this schoolmaster's tone to their current modes of colloquial emphasis, and, frequently, to their characteristic style of reading and of public address. IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OP ELOCUTION. 49 no power of inflecting his voice, so that, in reading, his sen- tences run on with the flat sameness of the style of an advertise- ment or a law-paper ; or, on the other hand, he twitches and jerks his words with perpetual double slides and circumflexes ^^ so that his language seems to become a succession of verbal dis- tinctions, quirks, or quibbles, instead of important and impres*-- sive facts, in their appropriate tone. This fault is sufficient- ly ridiculous to ears not indurated to it, by the effect of cus- tom. But the speaker who makes it, has never dreamed of its existence in his personal habits ; and he goes on, from year to year, announcing sacred truths in the tone and accent of a. series of sly jokes. The effect of such utterance, when added to the proverbial coldness and stiffness of general manner, current, more particularly, in the pulpits of New England, is one great cause of the avowed dislike, so generally expressed in other parts of the country, to the style of preachers from that quarter. A slight attention to culture would suffice to put an end to such impediments to the legitimate influence of the pulpit. The undisciplined speaker fails, usually, in adequate lengtlt of pauses. He allows no opportunity for an impressive thought to ' sink down into the ear,' and penetrate the heart;, he hastens on, heedlessly, over the most momentous thoughts, as if they were matters of indifference ; and the effects which he produces on his hearers, are correspondent to his style. Truth, uttered in such modes, is stripped of its reality, and leaves the soul callous to its power. A false current notion, that the elocution of the pulpit is to be modelled on that of the bar, or the popular assembly, induces some speakers to imagine that eloquence consists in fluency, and that the ac-^ ceptable preacher is he who does not keep his people waiting for his words, but glides on, on the '• festina lente' principle, and judiciously shortens the duration of the penance of listen- =* Those turns of voice, which Dr. Rush, in his analysis, has termed ' waves.' This style forms the distinctive vocal effect of what are called ' Yankee stories ;' yet the prevalence of local habit causes it to be fi-e- quently heard in the pulpit. 5 §9 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ing to a sermon.* A moderate attention to the demands of solemnity and impressiveness, as prominent features of sacred eloquence, would guard the preacher from such errors of judgment and taste, while it would equally save him and his hearers from the lagging slowness and merciless drawling, which are also among the current faults of pulpit elocution. The preacher who neglects the cultivation of his voice, may be congratulating himself on his exemption from hollow and artificial tones, which lie detects in others. But he is, perhaps, in the habit of using a high, thin, and squeaking pitch, which forbids the possibility of grave, deep, or solemn emotion, on the part of his hearers ; — no matter how reveren- tial the unuttered feeling which is, all the while, latent in the bosom of the speaker. An inevitable law of our constitution demands deep tones in the utterance of solemn emotions. The fireside tone is intolerable in the pulpit ; the voice of familiar anecdote, sub- stituted for that of grave and devout discourse, is a desecra- tion to the ear. Yet a few hours* practice would enable most speakers to draw and observe the line which separates one pitch of voice and one mode of feeling from another. The preacher would thus obey, and cooperate with, the ordina- tions of Creative wisdom, and convert his voice from a hin- drance into an effective aid to the purposes of his oiRce. But the undisciplined speaker in the pulpit, sometimes, — whether from inadvertence or erroneous impression, — allows himself to fall into the opposite fault of a hollow, sepulchral, morbid voice, which is a mere matter oF habit, and bears no relation to his theme, for the moment. He may actually be expatiating on the joys of heaven, with a voice which has precisely the pitch of the ghost in Hamlet, when describing the horrors of hell. The etfect of such intonation usually is to make the ministrations of the pulpit associate themselves, in the feelings of an audience, with a condition of gloom and repugnance. Were the themes of pulpit eloquence such as * This false style of swiftness of utterance, is a prevalent trait of pul- pit elocution iu the city of New York. IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. Sf- never admitted strains of animation, cheerfulness, and delight, — were love and joy necessarily debarred from the circle of sacred emotions, — the uniformly hollow, heavy voice of awe and horror, might be appropriate, as a characteristic of pro-' fessional elocution. But on no other condition can it be so. Yet how often is this burden of preternatural pitch laid upon the sensibility of an audience, by the uncultivated voice of the preacher ! Fitness and beauty are the universal characteristics of or- ganization, in all the works of God. The very analogies of man's constitution, predispose him to repeat these traits in all his humbler sphere of creation and effect. His nature thirsts for these, in every act of mind or body. But if false taste and erroneous habit usurp the control of the forming proces- ses of education, the natural tendencies of mind are checked ; the soul becomes callous ; the eye becomes blind, and the ear deaf to propriety and grace. Perversion and evil, in every variety of shape, are the result. The mind ceases to perceive, the organs cease to execute their original purpose. Deformity is adopted as the model of grace ; habit imbibes the influence, and breathes the air, which custom has prescri- bed. Vitiated habit and depraved taste go hand in hand, in the work of desecration and corruption. The current style of elocution, in the pulpit, forms a strik- ing example of this downward tendency of mind and manner. The beautiful and wondrous adaptation of the human voice to the varied functions of expressive utterance, is clearly ex- hibited in the vivid and eloquent tones of childhood. It forms a most exquisite page in the poetry of man's life. But neg- lect and perversion commence, — as formerly mentioned, — with the processes of artificial culture ; and power and grace of expressive tone gradually die out ; so that the man, in his maturity, has lost the faculty of adapting voice to feeling, which he possessed in his earliest years. Not only so : he has acquired mechanical and/a/se habits of tone, which bury rather than give forth emotion. Of a hundred persons whom you may ask to read a vivid passage from the most natural 0£ PULPIT ELOCUTION. of all writers, Shakspeare, not one, perhaps, can give the genuine tones of feeling to what he attempts to read. To do such a thing, is in fact, commonly thought to be the exer- cise of an art possessed only by an actor or an elocutionist, — one who has made an express business of acquiring the vivid tones of emotion. The same experiment of reading may be made with the Bible, or the hymn book, or with a page of a sermon ; and the result will, for the most part, be, that neither layman nor clergyman utters any tone of feeling with its true and appro- priate character. The agonies and the ecstasies of the Psalmist, will, usually, be read with the tones of perfect de- corum in a modern gentleman ; the seraphic ardours of Watts will be uttered with the coolest composure ; and the sermon will be read as if the ideas of God, of heaven, and of hell, were things to which the human heart had acquired a com- fortable indifference. The uncultivated reader in the pulpit, thus nullifies, to the ear, whatever may be in his heart ; and what was meant to pierce the inmost soul, ' plays harmless round the head.' The voice of the preacher, which ought to be the living link of connection between earth and Heaven, becomes a most effec- tual non-conductor. The immense power which lies wrapped up in the human voice, and which is only transcended by that of the soul itself, the negligent speaker has left dormant, till he has lost faith in its existence, and actually regards the en- deavour to arouse it as on a par with the infatuated search for imaginary lost treasure. Never, from his lips, shall come the startling or the thrill- ing note of warning to the slumbering spirit ; the tone that makes a Felix tremble at the fearful possibilities of retribu- tion ; the voice that can melt the obdurate heart to tears of contrition; the words that can inspire the despondent or soothe the sorrowing soul, or * stir the blood like the sound of a trumpet,' while it summons to ' glory, honour, and immor- tality.' To the uncultivated speaker, the natural avenues of the IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 53 heart, the modes of sympathetic tone, are, comparatively, shut. His feelings may be strong and deep ; but he knows not how- to give them effective utterance. He is powerless from want of practice. His voice, the appointed organ of communica- tion with the soul, has become virtually dead. It might have been an instrument of electric effect ; but he has chosen to let it rust unused. His voice, however, is but what the hand of Angelo would have been, undisciplined, uninspired by his soul, — a mass of bone, flesh, ligament, and skin, as that of the labourer in the quarry, — not that wondrous instrument, which more than any other production of Divine skill, has shown how * fearfully and wonderfully' the members of the human frame are formed, in adaptation to the purposes and capacities of the soul. The preacher who neglects the cultivation of his organs, usually subjects himself to a whole host of disadvantages, dis- tinct from those which are connected with the unskilful use of the voice. He offends the eye, by violating the natural laws of posture and motion, which regulate the human frame. Man's body was designed to depict his emotions, by its sympathetic cooperation with his mind. But the preacher has listened to the prevailing cant around him, about attitude and gesticulation, and has neglected the natural use of his bodily members, as expressive agents ; so that he has lost the power of using them, and even a natural, momentary ex- ertion of them, has become, to him, a conscious effort. In the unperverted years of childhood, his soul beamed forth in every posture, and in every action ; his very frame radiated emotion, and invested itself with the powers of a spiritual presence. Such is man's natural condition. But education steps in, and imposes on his body the same train of evils which it inflicted on his voice. It quenches the light, and steals away the warmth of his being, and moulds his suscep- tible nature into low and arbitrary forms, either inevitable or actually prescribed. The informing spirit withdraws itself from its original resort to the exterior frame, and ceases to ac^ tuate it : the bodily organs are soon usurped by routine and 5* 54 PULPIT ELOCUTION. mechanism : constraint, coldness, rigidity, reserve, embarrass- ment, and awkwardness, take the place of freedom, warmth and life ; a hard, dry, narrow, angular, mechanical gesticula- tion displaces the natural, free, flowing action which sprung directly from feeling. Artificial cultivation confirms all these faults into habits ; judgment ceases to recognize the true and reject the false ; taste becomes assimilated to style, and learns 4o love the arbitrary and the unnatural. The professional speaker carries into the sphere of the pulpit, the faults which mis-directed education has made a part of himself; and unless he is willing then to assume the labour of reform and renovation, he cannot produce, in his iperson and action, any just effect of expression. All his traits of manner must be conventional, and, for every pur- pQse of eloquence, untrue, and ineffectual or injurious. A few weeks of assiduous culture, however, would remove the impediments which artificial habit has thus accumulated, and convert the awkward, ungainly, and disagreeable manner into one of genuine nature, propriety, freedom, force, and grace.* Our sketch of the usual faults of the uncultivated speaker, has been so extended into detail, that little room remains, — in consistency with the necessary limits of this volume, — to <3escribe the cultivated. He may be pictured, however, in imagination, as the reverse of the former, in every point. The few individuals who, as yet, have devoted their atten- tion to the inevitable effects of manner in the pulpit, are easi- ly distinguished : they speak with freedom, with earnestness and fervour, with impressive power, with manly force, with chaste propriety, with attractive grace. There is a living reality, a glowing life, in their utterance, a genuine refine- ♦ The Rev. Edward Irving was an impressive example of the effect of cultivation in personal manner and action. In his early professional efforts in Scotland, he exhibited a style the most awkward, constrained, and unnatural, that, perhaps, the pulpit ever exhibited. At a subsequent period, in London, his attitude and action became, by assiduous culture, most strikingly eloquent in their efi'ect. IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ELOCUTION. 55 merit, a persuasive eloquence of manner, which rivet the at- tention, and command the whole mind and heart. They ex- cel the preacher who is merely an eloquent writer or compo- ser of sermons, as much as the orator does the essayist. In- tellectual force, aided by scholarship and taste, will insure all the merits of the latter. But assiduous self-culture, and resolute practice, in special and appropriate forms, are indis- pensable to him who would secure the power of the former ; and while the young preacher may well be excused from the usurping demands on time and labour, indispensable to the attainments of a consummate orator, no unreasonable amount of exertion is required to make him an effective and success- ful speaker, or, in other words, to enable him to accomplish all the true objects of oratory, by uttering his thoughts ear- nestly, appropriately, and persuasively. THE EFFECTS OF MANNER ELOCUTION OF THE PULPIT. AMMATION AND DULLNESS. Communication by speech and action, is one of the no- blest functions of man's complex nature. It is the product of reason, feeling, and imagination, moulded by the expression of the countenance, the attitude of the body, the action of its members, and the modifications of the voice. It implies the activity of the whole man, in the unity of his feeling. It is the result of will ; it appeals to sympathy ; it is invariably a moral act ; it recognizes the invisible chain which links man to man ; it involves the power of choice, and the condition of responsibility, in the impartation of pleasure or of pain ; it evokes, — whether by violating or observing its decisions, — the highest power within the human breast, — conscience. Its range of action is as wide as the capacities of man ; it utters his conceptions of the universe and its Author, and the feel- ings to which these give origin ; it gives language, also, to the humblest of his own daily wants, or the slightest of his transient emotions. It compasses the stars, and defines the minutest particle of dust ; it breathes the winning tones, and wears the inviting aspect of love ; or it utters the accents and assumes the attitude of destructive hate. Its forms and modes are as vaiious, therefore, as its sources, its subjects, and its objects. ANIMATION AND DULLNESS. 57 Regarded, however, as an act which is the result of will, it always implies life, spiritual and animal. Death seals, irrevo- cably, the lips of man ; despair, despondency, dejection, dis- ease, exhaustion, languor, may close them, for a time. But the natural renovation of life, by joy or by repose, revives the law of sympathy and communication : animation prompts to speech and action. So uniform is this effect, that silence and reserve, in man, are recognized as the indications of illness, displeasure, depression, gloom, or dissatisfaction. The taci- turn individual, in society, seems morose, dispirited, or timid. It is a law of expression, therefore, in accordance with these facts, that life and animation are conditions of speech, both as regards the language of audible utterance, and that which exists, to the eye, in the attitudes and actions of the body. Conversation, destitute of the inspiring effect of ani- mation, becomes dull and tedious, while the spirited inter- change of thought is one of the purest sources of mental and social pleasure, and, at the same time, one of the most pow- erful springs of intellectual action and development. So it is in regard to the premeditated and formal commu- nications of public address. Deprive these of life, on their wonted occasions, — and the prosing technicalities of the plea- der seem but a heavy burlesque on the vaunted connection between law, eloquence, and justice ; the * popular' orator, when dull, immediately becomes wwpopular, — or, in the lan- guage of Dogberry, * most tolerable, and not to be endured.' Can the preacher who drones and drawls, and stands motion- less and lifeless in the pulpit, reasonably hope to be exempt from the influence of the law of association which identifies dullness with stupidity ? In vain does he plead the solemnity of his themes, the gravity of his profession, and the depth of tone, and the se- dateness of manner which belong to these. Profound emo- tion and decorous action are not dullness : they are a genu- ine part of living eloquence on great subjects ; they are the very opposite of drawling, lagging, monotonous utterance, unemphatic expression, and lifeless, automaton-like gestures. W PtJLPlT ELOCUTION. Want of life and animation in the preacher, extends itself, necessarily, to the congregation. Nothing is so Mesmeric in ks influence as dullness. The lifeless soporific tone, like the droning hum of the bee, lulls the sense and the soul, alike, to slumber. The torpor of the preacher diffuses itself over his audience ; and his own somnolent manner is soon reflected to him, in the ' lack-lustre eyes' of those of the congregation, who, in such circumstances, can any longer be called hearers. The chief source of dullness in the pulpit, is no doubt, that want of tact in the handling of a subject, which makes the great themes of religion commonplace to the preacher himself, and therefore to his audience. Education, it must be acknow- ledged, does little to empower the preacher to breathe fresh life into old themes. The theologian enters upon his office, but little disciplined in that free, natural, original, and inspiring use of his faculties, which enables the poet to find ever new life and beauty in every component atom of the creation, and to expatiate, with an eloquence which we feel to be divine, on the common light and air of heaven, or the most ordinary plant by the wayside. The preacher seems, too often, to be consciously handling trite themes, to which it is a hopeless attempt to endeavour to impart life and interest. He speaks, accordingly, as if the utmost reach of his ambition were to invest dullness with a tolerable decency, and to get through the routine of his function, in the best way he can. The power of taking interesting, impressive, and striking views of common things, implies, unquestionably, a higher talent than mere education can impart. But while this im- portant acquirement remains, as at present, one of the unat- tempted prizes of diligence, it is certain that the obvious and palpable advantages of even a partial cultivation, are entire- ly overlooked, as respects the express training of preachers for the public duties of their office. It surely is not absolutely necessary that, to want of origi- nal power, and to want of due intellectual discipline, in the occupants of the pulpit, there should invariably be added an ANIMATION AND DULLNESS. 59 utter want of skill in expression, as regards the use of the voice, and the appropriate accompaniments of action. The dull and lifeless speaker may become animated, if he will resolutely set about accomplishing the task. The train- ing prescribed in the practice of elocution, will present him with subjects of exercise, drawn from the most inspiriting passages of the most powerful writers. It will accustom him to glow over inspiring themes. It will show him the natural modes of uttering and imparting vivid emotions. It will train his organs to lively exertion. It will invigorate his tones, enhance his emphasis, sharpen his inflections, enliven his accents, breathe life into his whole expression, mould his frame into pliancy and eloquent effect, impel his arm, kindle his eye, flush his cheek with genuine emotion, and light up his whole manner with a feeling which radiates from within. All men are thus eloquent in childhood : all who have the force of resolution and the persevering diligence requisite for the endeavour, may recover * the buried talent.' The style of the pulpit, while it requires, in common with all modes of expression, the due animation of a living effect, forbids, of course, that mere animal vivacity which is incom- patible with dignity and sobriety of manner, and borders on puerility by incessant motion and gesticulation, a talkative style of utterance, with high pitch, unreserved loudness, rapid enunciation, half-mimetic tones, abrupt and startling varia- tions, grotesque expression, and dramatic attempts at humour. Original and eccentric characters, such as Rowland Hill and John Campbell, can be tolerated, and even occasionally relished for their native buoyancy of spirits : their exuber- ance of action and expression, even when it violates deco- rum, is pardoned, in consideration of the striking effect which, for the moment, it imparts to a thought usually uttered and received in a languid and passive mood. But mere animal spirits, in a speaker, without the depth and original force of such men, serve only to discompose and annoy the mind of the hearer who desires grave and impressive instruction on momentous subjects. ifJO PtJLPIT ELOCUTION. To acquire expressive power of voice and manner, the process is the same which the judicious artist adopts. Study nature deeply and intensely, till you imbibe its beauty, its freshness, and its power : devote ample time to the cultivation of a relish for genuine art, in all its varied forms ; — for all the fine arts are but modifications of the one great art of ex- pression. Above all, imbue your mind with the spirit of po- etry, by the habitual studious reading of the works of the master spirits of our vernacular literature. Study, especially, the dramatists, — read them diligently aloud, with full force of feeling, — as a matter of professional culture and self-training ; and the ear will inevitably open to the impressions of living emotion in tone and action ; every expressive trait in your own mental character will thus be quickened, and the power of penetrating the heart and swaying the sympathies of oth- ers, be acquired, — to an indefinite extent. Could the young preacher be but induced to bestow a tithe of the labour which is bestowed by the young player, on the acquisition of a vivid and expressive manner, in word and act, every pulpit might become comparatively a station for transmitting and diffusing the electric influence of a speaker inspired, — soul and body, — by divine truth. EARNESTNESS AND APATHY. The mere vividness of an emotion may lead to animated expression, in countenance, voice, and action. Such a result may be unconscious and even unintentional, as is evinced in the natural communications of childhood. But of the deliberate and voluntary speaker, who has a definite aim in utterance, we expect more than mere vivacity. The orator, — and such, for the time, is the minister in the pulpit, — has a grave purpose to accomplish, — a specific end in view, toward which his own mind is impelled, and to- ward which he wishes to conduct the minds of his hearers. EARNESTNESS AND APATHY. 61 He has within him a deep-felt emotion, which he wishes to impart to the hearts of others. He is earnestly desirous to impress the pervading sentiment of his own soul on the sym- pathies of his audience. He calls imagination to his aid, to give form to his idea and figure to his language. He reasons, he argues, he persuades, he awes, he impels, he entreats, he warns, he threatens, he exhorts, he melts, he terrifies, he arouses, he subdues, he wins. His success is the reward of his earnest desire to compass his object. His triumph has been achieved, undoubtedly, by intellectual force appropriate- ly directed, — but through what means ? His glowing and irresistible eloquence was not a mere affair of the brain and the pen. These instruments have done their work well. But what would have been their effect without the aid of the liv^ ing tongue and the expressive action ? What gave the thoughts of the speaker an entrance to the heart, was not merely their intellectual life and power, or their ideal beauty, but the earnestness of his tone, look, and gesture. The diffidence or the lethargic indifference of some preach- ers, cuts them off from all such effects. They may feel what they say ; but they speak as though they felt it not. The earnest pleader might justly seem to say of them, in the ex- pressive words of the great dramatist, * Their words come from their lips, — ours from our breast.' Their own souls are not apparently aroused by what they utter ; and how can it be expected that they should awaken others ? If the preach- er's tone is, in such cases, any index to his heart, he is in- different as to the result. It may be, indeed, that he is one of those who disapprove of much emotion in the pulpit, and that he is an advocate of calm dignity, and manly reserve of manner. His Stoic exterior is not to be disturbed by vehe- mence or excitement ; and the slumbering soul is therefore to be left to its fatal lethargy. But the fault of apparent apathy in the preacher, is more frequently owing to the absence of expressive facility. It sometimes, indeed, is caused by a depth of inward feeling which in vain struggles for utterance through undisciplined 6 ^% PULPIT ELOCUTION. and unpractised organs. The suppressed and choking voice sometimes, in these circumstances, discloses, to the attentive ear, the true nature of the hinderance. But from whatever source it springs, the fault of inexpressive utterance belies the truths which fall from the lips, and which should pierce the heart with the thrill of intense emotion. Earnestness is the natural language of sincerity ; it is the condition of persuasion. It is the security for the orator's success, — most of all, in the case of him who is not contend- ing for palpable rights and outward interests, but who is pleading the most momentous of all causes, — that which is ever pending between the soul and God. Earnestness is the most prominent trait of eloquence. It is a thing not to be mistaken. It depends not on science. It is a direct product of the soul. It has no half-way existence. Either it is not, or it comes * beaming from the eye, speaking on the tongue, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object.' Nothing can take its place. Decorum, without it, becomes hollow formality • gravity, coldness ; dignity, reserve : all expression loses life and power. Yet earnestness is external in its character, and may be counterfeited, even, by assuming certain outward signs of tone and action. It needs but a little attention and reflection to note and discriminate its traits. Every observer perceives its characteristic glance of the eye ; its energetic, warm, breathing, heart-issuing voice, its pithy emphasis, its acute and keen inflection, its vivid intonation, its animated move- ment ; its forcible and spirited and varying action, its speak- ing attitude and posture ; its eloquent glow of pervading in- spiration. AYe see it manifested in all its power, as the in- stinctive art of eloquence which nature teaches to the child, to the mother, to the loving youth, to the unconscious savage. Earnestness, as a habit in expression, is one of those traits which education tends to quell rather than to aid. Early, in the conventional forms of school life, it gives way to reserve and morbid apathy, or to an arbitrary decorum. Inexpres- EARNESTNESS AND APATHY. 63 sive modes of action and utterance become, thus, inseparable from the prevalent habits of the student and the professional man. Resolute self-culture alone can replace the lost power in individuals. He who would recover it effectually, must watch narrowly the sources of influence on mind and character. He must frequent those mental resorts whence he may derive energetic and stirring impulses : he must learn to detect, and apply to his own being, the elements of inward life and force, to see the deep and living reality within all external forms. He must learn to deal with thoughts rather than words, and with things more than with mere thought. He who inhales the inner air of truth and reality, cannot be an indifferent spectator of life, or an indifferent pleader for its duties. The words and tones and looks and actions of the human being, are profound and instructive realities to him. He cannot be indifferent to their power : he will study them thoroughly ; he will use them effectively. One efficacious means of infusing an earnest spirit into ex- pression, is the attentive study of the great models of elo- quence, ancient and modern. It is true, that the process of verbal translation, and the routine of formal declamation, in academic exercises, have extracted much of the freshness and the life of eloquence from the best pages of classic oratory, by blunting the student's sensibility to their peculiar power and beauty. Bat to every true scholar there comes a time when the trammels of early association are laid aside with the other transient impressions of boyhood, and the man, in the maturity of his mind, perceives and appreciates the living force of. the great masters in oratory ; and then Demosthenes and Cicero and Chatham are, to his view, themselves again, in their original power and splendour. The daily practice of reading aloud, and declaiming from these authors, cannot but rouse and impel a mind that truly feels their power. The sympathetic spirit must catch some- thing of their glowing earnestness and breathing life of utter- ance. Language such as theirs it is hardly possible for the W PULPIT ELOCUTION. man to repeat in the cold flat tones of the school-boy's com- pulsory task. The same may be said in regard to the effect produced on elocution by the reading and study of all writers whose lan- guage breathes an earnest spirit. The stirring narratives, even of the novelist, — if we take such as Scott for our illus- tration, — exert a similar power in awakening and impelling the feelings of the reader; and could the clergyman who pleads his incessant occupation, as an apology for neglecting the cultivation of his delivery, be induced to devote but half an hour a day to the practice of reading aloud, to his own family circle, an effective passage from such a writer, he would unavoidably acquire a vivid and earnest manner of ex- pression, as a habit, in whatever possessed an interest to his own feelings. The sui)erficial impression that the habit of reading and speaking, as an affair of practice, tends to make a speaker mechanical in his style, arises from a false conception of the nature of the exercise. The practice which the elocutionist suggests is not a soulless repetition of sounds : he insists upon it that no practice is of any avail that does not carry the heart with it, or that does not bring forth sincere and earnest feeling, in tone and manner. His desire is to aid the speak- er in evoking and expressing his inmost soul, as the only condition of the power to elicit the genuine sympathy of oth- ers. The elocutionist who understands his subject, can never be satisfied with a heartless, artificial style : his know- ledge of his subject must prevent him from mistaking or pre- scribing the false for the true. His very office is to break up routine, formality, and every other trait of factitious habit. The erroneous notion that practice and culture tend to cherish an artificial manner of expression, is owing, like many other mistakes on this subject, to our defective modes of education. The child, at school, is permitted to read sen- tences as merely so many words : the meaning and the spirit of a passage are not invariably associated, as they should be, EARNESTNESS AND APATHY. 65 with the language. The boy, the youth, and the man, ac- cordingly, through the successive stages of education, regard reading as an arbitrary and mechanical process ; and the petty instruction usually given about pausing and emphasis and the inflections of the voice, has only served to verify and confirm the impression. An education true to sentiment, to language, and to man, would render it unnatural to the ear and the voice to put asunder what God has joined, — the feeling in the heart, and its utterance in appropriate tone. Ear and voice, if trained in harmony, would always come to one re- sult ; and the practice of reading and of speaking, would con- firm, not interfere with, the tendency of nature. The student, therefore, should see that the whole matter rests with himself. His endeavour ought to be to reform and renovate his habits of expression, so thoroughly that his utter^ce shall always be true and earnest, and that he shall be incapable of executing a tone or a gesture which is not the natural and genuine result of feeling. His daily practice should have this end uniformly in view. The effects result- ing from deficiencies and errors in formal education, will thus be obviated ; and every exercise which he performs will be an additional security that his manner shall not be mechani- cal but, on the contrary, living and earnest. One of the most valuable, in fact, of all accomplishments resulting from diligent self-culture in elocution, is the power which it imparts of entering, at once, with entire and perfect sympathy into the mood of any sentiment which is to be read or spoken. The homely adage, that practice makes perfect, is in nothing more true than in this particular case. Nor can there be a greater mistake than that which most persons fall into, as regards the function of the elocutionist. The accom- plished reader is thought to possess a certain talent of assimi- lation, by which he assumes or puts on the utterance of a sen- timent, as if it were real. The true elocutionist, Hke any other sincere and earnest man, 'knows not seems f he either possesses by nature, or has acquired by diligence, a facility of giving up his whole being, — feeling and imagination, as well 6* 66 PULPIT ELOCUTION. as understanding, — to the sentiment which he expresses. To him all is intense reality. In the act of reading impressively a strain of poetry, he is but exerting that receptive and ex- pressive power which makes all things real and fresh to him- self, and consequently to others, — a power which dwells in the soul and on the tongue of every child, — a power which the good reader has not lost or has only recovered. He is but performing simply and earnestly one of the truest func- tions of his being. The indispensable faculty of impai-ting reality to thought and feeling, is, in the elocutionist, as in all other men, that, rather, of perceiving and feeling the reality of thought. He is thus enabled to impart that reality to the minds of others. But, without this condition, there can be no true use of the voice. Earnestness and eloquence, impressiveness and power, in speaking, are merely the visible and audible eflfects^of the inspiration which emanates from this source. The preacher, if he is more dependent than other speakers, on such influence as this, is also more largely furnished with its aid : his themes are the most inspiring and the most im- pressive on which the human mind can dwell. To be elo- quent, he has but to be earnest. Earnestness of heart, how- ever, does not necessarily imply earnestness of manner. The very depth and vividness of feeling, are sometimes the actual causes of silence. The preacher has to learn, like other speakers, to control and modify his emotions so that they may become capable of expression. He must learn to recognize the natural signs of earnest emotion in tone and action, and to identify these with his whole manner. He must learn to lay aside the passive habits into which he may have fallen in the silence and seclusion of his study, and enter upon the ac- tive efforts of living expression and effective communication with society. He must, if he would attain success, labour to acquire the power of imparting to others the reality which his thoughts possess to his own mind. The earnestness of his manner in speaking, is the natural gauge of this reality. The preacher, therefore, who feels the importance of this EARNESTNESS AND APATHY. 67 point, will not think it unworthy of his office to study and observe every effective means of imparting earnestness to his voice or his action. How often is the hearer left aware how much more the preacher might effect, were his tone more ex- pressive, his emphasis stronger, his manner more energetic ; were he but earnest enough to secure interest in his thoughts, and sympathy with his feelings ! The quiet and placid tenor of a pastor's life, while it fa- vours his attainments in the contemplation of abstract and re- flective truth, is not so conducive to the acquisition of the power of earnest and impressive utterance. He, as a speak- er, needs, more than others, the aid of express study and practice in that art which tends to impart * action and utter- ance, and the power of speech to stir men's blood,' for great purposes. — The player who is faithful to the duties of his vo- cation, gives the daily study of successive years, to the pre- paration for performing a great part, so as to give effective utterance to great sentiments and glowing language. He whose express business it has been to render himself expert in giving to thought and emotion their appropriate tone, look, attitude, and action, with all the earnestness of life, feels that this very process is one in which careful study and laborious practice are perpetually required to ensure success. The daily arduous study practised by such men as Kemble and Macready, might well put to the blush many a phlegmatic speaker in the pulpit, who seldom passes a thought on the only natural means of rendering his ministrations interesting or impressive. No juster remark was ever made than that contained in the answer of the player to the preacher. * "We utter fiction as if it were truth ; you utter truth as if it were fiction.' Nor will this observation cease to be applicable to the style of the pulpit, while a formal and ceremonious, instead of a living and earnest manner, continues to be associated with it, as a matter of habit, in preachers and hearers. No error is more general, and none is more fatal in its consequences, than that into which young preachers are so apt to fall, — that the elo- 68 PULPIT ELOCTTTION. cution of the pulpit is a permanent fixture on which the per- sonal habit of an individual is to make no encroachment, and that, once in the pulpit, a speaker is necessarily tied down to a certain decorous average of manner, never too earnest to disturb the repose of established routine. FORCE, FEEBLENESS. Force, as a trait of manner in speaking, is inseparable from earnestness. It is a natural attendant on animation. It is the invariable characteristic of the speaker who is him- self awake to his subject, and whose feelings are interested in what he utters. We hear it in the vigour of his voice, in the weight of his emphasis, in the strength and fullness and impressive power of his tones of emotion ; we see it in the manly energy of his action. The property of force is not, it is true, an invariable char- acteristic of eloquence. There are subjects and occasions which quell and subdue force, and which forbid mere loudness of voice, or energy of action. But the public speaker who does not, on appropriate occasions, rise to impressive force of manner, falls short, not merely of eloquent effect, but of true and manly expression. Freedom, appropriateness, grace, are all inferior to this master quality. An energetic speaker will force his way to the heart, in spite of awkward and ungainly habits. Genuine force is, to sympathy, what necessity is to motive ; it sweeps all before it.* Force is the prime attribute of man ; it cannot be dispen- sed with, in the habits of the speaker. No degree of fluency, * The eloquence of the Scottish preacher Chalmers, forms a striking example in point. The uncouthness of his broad dialectic accent, and his pretcniatural vehemence of voice and action, are lost in the fervid force of that native enthusiasm Avith which he flings soul and body into his subject and his manner. His whole being is concentrated on his theme ; and he holds his audience, of whatever class, with the grasp of a giant '■«*^":i;**'* >-■ VEHEMENCE, VIOLENCE. 6^ or of mere grace, can be accepted in its stead. The feeble, florid rhetorician never affects his audience beyond the sur- face of fancy. The preacher whose manner is weak, never penetrates the heart, or impresses the mind. The prime characteristic of style in man addressing man, on topics of vast concern, must be force. Culture may come in, to mod- ulate that force into fitting and graceful forms. But where life and soul are, there must be force. Eloquence persuades ; but it also impels and urges, with irresistible power. VEHEMENCE, VIOLENCE. Genuine force of manner in speaking, rises, indeed, on some occasions to vehemence itself. The inspiration of a strong emotion does not stop to weigh manner in * the hair- balance of propriety ;' it will not wait for nice and scrupulous adaptation. The speaker who is never moved beyond a cer- tain decorous reserve, will never move his audience to sym- pathy. Force will not be hedged in by arbitrary prescrip- tions. It is not less true, however, that vehemence, being the off- spring of enthusiasm, is, like its parent, exceedingly prone to the evils of excess. There is a bad as well as a good enthu- siasm, and, consequently, a bad as well as a good vehemence. The genuine inspiration, the true vehemence, is, even in its strongest expression, like the eloquence which the great ora- tor has so characteristically described as resembling ' the out- breaking of the fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fire ;' it has the force, but, still, the beauty or the grandeur, of nature. The vehemence of indignation is sometimes one of the strongest incitements of eloquence. We trace this fact, in many instances, in the language of the sacred volume, not less distinctly than in that of Demosthenes, or Cicero, or Chatham. But true vehemence never degenerates into vio- lence and vociferation. It is the force of inspiration, — not of 70 PtTLPIT ELOCUTION. frenzy. It is not manifested in the screaming and foaming, the stamping and the contortions, of vulgar excess. It is ever manly and noble, in its intensest excitement : it ele- vates, — it does not degrade. It never descends to the bawl- ing voice, the guttural coarseness, the shrieking emphasis, the hysteric ecstasy of tone, the bullying attitude, and the clinched fist of extravagant passion. GENTLENESS, SPIRIT, TAMENESS. The excesses of improper vehemence in delivery, however, while they are utterly revolting to humanity and taste, are no excuse for the habitual weakness of manner, which is betrayed by speakers of the opposite character. Gentleness, it is true, is one of the most efficacious of all the means of persuasion ; and it is nowhere more successful or more be- coming, than in the pulpit. But, as force is not violence, so neither is gentleness tameness. * He is gentle, and not fear- ful,* is one of the truest of those just and beautiful discrimi- nations which are the charm of the great dramatist, in his exquisite delineations of the various shades of human char- acter. The act of expression, whether it is performed by the voice, the eye, or the hand, or by the natural union of them all, de- mands a living force. It may be moderate ; but it must be spirited. It requires that easy and skilful, perhaps gentle, exercise of force, which characterizes the decisive touches of the artist, and which gives prominence and life to the figures of his canvass. It is the farthest thing possible from tame- ness and feebleness. Power of expressive utterance, is the positive electricity of the soul ; it implies a percussive force of will on the organic frame ; its natural language is energy of voice and gesture. The tame speaker wearies his audience, and sends them away indifferent to any effect ; — their minds a mere blanL BOLDNESS,. TIMIDITY. 71 The feeble speaker excites the pity of his hearers ; they sym- pathize with the organic weakness under which he seems to labour, and leave the place of assembly, utterly unimpressed with any feeling but of compassion for the preacher person- ally. Had he but exerted his organs sufficiently to fill with his voice the building in which he spoke ; had he but given a hearty emphasis to his utterance, or a manly energy to his tones ; had he not allowed himself to ' mutter like the wiz- ard behind the wall ;' had he permitted himself the just force and decision of a messenger empowered to deliver an author- itative message ; — how different might have been the result ! His subject might then have penetrated every mind, and im- pressed every heart : his audience might have departed la- menting, if anything, their own lack of spiritual life, not the feeble style of the preacher. BOLDNESS, TIMIDITY. A reckless boldness of manner, is repulsive in any speaker, and, most of all, in him who addresses his fellow-men on sa- cred themes. It is utterly at variance with the spirit of gen- tleness and tenderness which was manifested by the preach- er's great Exemplar. Yet, owing to the absence of the mould- ing influence of true culture, how often is an audience ha- rangued from the pulpit in a style of address which implies no respect for the speaker's fellow-beings. This style is usually characterized by an ungoverned loud- ness of voice, a violent emphasis, an unmitigated vehemence of tone, a perpetual sweeping and jerking of the arm, and a frequent clinching of the fist. It is true that such a style is often the unconscious result of the speaker's force of convic- tion and fullness of feeling, in regard to his subject rather than the persons whom he is addressing ; and that the idea of a bullying effect in his style, never, probably, occurred to him. But one seasonable suggestion from his teacher at school, would have sufficed to guard him against this obstacle 72 l»ULPIT ELOCUTION. to his usefulness, by leading him to recognize the difference between a manner which merely expresses the excitement of the speaker himself, and that which moulds this very excite- ment into an eloquent effect on others. The timid or the diffident speaker, on the contrary, who has not, apparently, the courage, or the self-possession to lift up his voice in an audible sound, and whose hand seems glued to his side, and his whole body paralyzed, — so that he ap- pears a statue-like personification of constraint, — unavoidably imparts to the feelings of those whom he addresses a degree of the irksomeness and misery under which he himself is la- bouring. Whatever he would attempt to say, becomes, as it were, frozen in the act of issuing from the mouth. His arm, if it ever rises to an action, makes but an approach to ges- ture, and only leaves the eye more sensitive to the want of it. The embarrassed speaker, with his suppressed and im- perfect utterance, and cowed, hesitating action, does not even fulfil the organic conditions of address ; he falls equally short of reaching ear, eye, and heart. His matter may be rich and strong, — his composition eloquent ; but all is lost for want of that courage which a little training and practice might easily impart, and which would inspire the due boldness that becomes a man addressing his fellow-beings. There is, undoubtedly, a good as well as a faulty boldness. The preacher, if true to his subject and his hearers, will often have occasion to exert the former. It then becomes an ele- ment of appropriate manner and just effect. It is, in such circumstances, indispensable to sincere feeling and true elo- quence, not less than to good elocution. HARSHNESS, AMENITY. The too bold speaker is apt to add to the bad effects of ap- parent indifference to the presence of his hearers, that of a repulsive harshness of voice and aspect, — a fault at variance THE CULTIVATION OF FORCE. 73 with everything like persuasive or genial effect. Sternness and asperity of expression preclude the speaker from access to 'the heart, and seal the mind to his influence. Yet inad- vertent habit, in the absence of culture, has sometimes stamp- ed such a manner on the preacher. The energy of such speakers soon becomes vehemence ;. and their vehemence, apparent anger. No wonder that they should displease, rather than win their hearers. Faults of this description are usually matters of utter unconsciousness to the individuals who commit them. They are often the re- sults of mere constitutional austerity and ill-regulated force of expression. Ten minutes of the so much derided practice be- fore the looking-glass, would reflect so faithfully to such speakers the visible image which they present, that they could not tolerate its associations ; and the reform of mien and aspect would unavoidably extend its softening influence to the voice. An insipid, simpering, blandness of manner, is certainly a very undesirable trait in any speaker. It is peculiarly silly or ridiculous in a preacher ; he is the ambassador of Divine truth ; and, if he understands his office, is clothed with a higher dignity than can be conferred by man. His office en- titles him to speak as one having authority. But the spirit of love which should breathe from the- preacher's lips, will diffuse its genial amenity over his whole manner. His tones, his features, his action, will invite, will intreat, will persuade, will win his hearers, and attract them to his subject. The humane and benevolent spirit of his of- fice, will be legible in every trait of his address. THE CULTIVATION OF FORCE. Modes of cultivating Force. The cultivation of elocution with a view to the acquisition of due force of manner, — a style free from all the faults of 7 74 PtTLPIT ELOCUTIOSr. feebleness and tameness, — requires a proper attention to health and vigour of body, as an indispensable condition of energetic expression in utterance and action. The weak and constrained speaker may become eiFective and free, by due exposure and exercise. The flaccid muscle, and the enfee- bled nerve, will thus acquire tone ; the voice will become so- norous ; the arm energetic ; the attitude firm ; the whole manner impressive. The sedentary life of the student and the preacher, subjects t^em to weakness of body and languor of spirits, and predis- poses them to feebleness in voice and action. They need double care and diligence, for the preservation of that healthy tone of feeling, which alone can ensure energy of habit in ex- pressive utterance. To such measures should be added a constant resort to all the genuine sources of mental vigour ; the attentive study of the effects of force in all its natural forms, in the outward phenomena of the universe ; in the varied shapes which it as- sumes in all the expressive arts, — particularly in music, sculp- ture, and painting, and, most of all, in written language. The express discipline of the voice, with a view to the ac- quisition of organic force and vocal power, in the modes pre- scribed in the volume on Orthophony, will fully reward the student, by the command which it will give him over his or- gans, and the fullness and energy which it will impart to his tones. The daily practice of vigorous declamation, aided by the study of the principles of gesture, as laid down in the Elocutionist, will enable the professional speaker to acquire that force in action, which is an indispensable part of effective and impressive delivery. Modes of subduing excessive Vehemence. The only effectual means of correcting faults of excessive force, such as violence, undue boldness, harshness of manner, and similar qualities, must be sought in an entire revolution of taste and habits. The speaker whose style is marked by FREEDOM, CONSTRAINT, RESERVE. 75 such blemishes, must learn to perceive the appropriateness and moral beauty of gentleness, dignity, calmness and com- posure of mien and action, moderation of voice, and amenity of manner, in him whose office is sacred in all its associations, and whose habitual expression should breathe the spirit of hu- manity and love. The unseemly vehemence which degrades the pulpit to the level of the popular arena, implies a grievous error of judg- ment not less than of taste. It involves a fatal defect in the whole mental structure and character of the speaker himself. The sense of iStness and of beauty, must, to such individuals, be a matter of acquisition ; it can be attained only by means of attentive study and close observation. Discipline must, in such instances, be applied as a corrective to taste and ten- dency ; eloquence should be studied in its power to soften and subdue ; the heart should be subjected to the calm and gentle influence of nature, the tranquil beauty of art, and the tender breathings of such poetry as that of Cowper ; the spirit should be moulded by the softening touch of refining intercourse in elevated social life ; a genial sympathy with humanity should be acquired by habitual benevolent commu- nication with its sufferings and depressions. The speaker's whole manner may thus be formed anew, and acquire that moderation and that mildness which are the characteristics of genuine eloquence- FREEDOM, CONSTRAINT, RESERVE. An indispensable trait of manliness, not less than of elo- quence, is entire freedom of manner, arising from due self- reliance, and, at the same time, that self-forgetfulness which naturally arises from a speaker's interest in his subject. A modest estimation of his own powers, a proper respect for others, and a profound feeling of the importance of his sub- ject, are not incompatible with perfect ease and self-posses- .^ion. Embarrassment and constraint, indeed, are not unfre- 7e PULPIT ELOCUTION. quently owing to that vacillation of attention, which allows the speaker's mind to vibrate between the duty before him, and the consciousness of his personal relation to it. The unity of his mental and bodily action, would remain unim- paired, were his whole mind absorbed in his theme : the dis- turbing self-conscious reference would thus be precluded ; and his manner would be concentrated in earnest, impressive utterance. Freedom, self-possession, and ease of manner, would seem to be the natural condition of man addressing man ; and these traits would be the spontaneous concomitants of pubHc dis- course, if education in early life, were properly regulated. But this advantage is not enjoyed, in the present forms of school routine. The exercise of declamation, which is the only training prescribed for boys, is too formal and ceremo- nious in its style, to lead to free, unembarrassed manner in address. The subject of his declamation is usually too ab- Btract and general, or of too conventional a character, to per- mit the young speaker to identify it with the workings of his own mind. The exercise is accordingly performed in the spirit of mechanical routine, as a task to be undergone, — ^as an unmeaning ceremony. The unnatural position of the juvenile speaker, embarras- ses him ; and his whole style is constrained and awkward. His voice is smothered by his conscious inability to utter aright the sentiments which he is expressing : his emphasis is quelled by the conviction that his feelings are unnatural to him : his tones, uninspired by genuine emotion, deviate into an arbitrary chant : his action becomes, — from the con- sciousness that he is performing a part, — forced and unnatu- ral. The inevitable result of such processes, is, that the hab- its of the boy are moulded into forms which indicate con- straint as inseparably associated with the act of declaiming. At no subsequent stage of education is this association broken up ; and it continues to hang, as a visible load, on the habitu- al manner of the professional speaker. The injurious effects of misdirected education, in this par- FREEDOM, CONSTRAINT, RESERVE. 77 ticular, are frequently perceptible in the elocution of the pul- pit. The preacher often seems, in consequence of these, to be going through an irksome process, from which it would be a grateful relief to be set free. His suppressed voice, his im- perfect utterance, his reserved tones, his constrained mien and posture, his confined, angular, hesitating, awkward, half- executed gestures, all seem to indicate the prisoner of re- straint, rather than the voluntary speaker. A little preparatory training would save the young preach- er from this process of suffering and exposure, and enable him to deliver his message with, at least, the due degree of com- posure and self-possession. The reserve which diffidence throws over the speaker's manner, is utterly at variance with that spirit of sympathy and communication, which is the true source of speech. Earnest and impressive address is incom- patible with a manner which seems to withhold rather than impart the thoughts and feelings of the speaker, — to suppress rather than to give utterance to his emotions. The preacher then becomes the messenger who keeps back rather than de- livers his message : the man is virtually unfaithful to his trust. His audience leave him unimpressed with the spirit of the communication which it was his office to make, and to which all his energies should have been devoted. The easy, self-possessed speaker, on the contrary, imparts composure by his very manner. His flowing speech, and un- constrained action, cause his thoughts to glide easily into the mind. His unembarrassed and natural utterance finds its way immediately to the sympathies of his audience : persua- sion dwells on the very accents of his voice : he seems to mould the mind at will : he secures the attention by winning both ear and eye : his hearers follow the strain of his remarks without effort : their complacency with the speaker predisposes them to receive the truths which he inculcates. An easy, unconstrained style, in speaking, is more depend- ent on culture and practice, than is any other trait of elocu- tion. Attention and diligence, however, are the only condi- tions on which a speaker can become effectually master of 7* 78 PULPIT ELOCUTION. himself, as to outward manner. Early education, if it were what it should be, would mould all cultivated men into habit- ual ease in expression, from their first attempts at speaking, in boyhood. But our present arrangements at school and ■college, do not call the individual into practice often enough to allow him to feel at home in the act. The process of crit- icising, too, whether it is performed by the teacher, or devol- ved on the speaker's class-fellows, is customarily limited to the indication of some prominent faults, after the exercise is over. This practice may prune and repress and chill ; but^ it never can inspire and guide and develope and warm and invigorate. Its usual effect is to restrain and embarrass. The student feels, in the exercise of declamation, that he is speaking before critics, for the express purpose of being criti- <;i6ed. He knows he is not uttering his personal feelings to sympathetic listeners ; and his reserve of manner betrays the fact of his conscious condition. He studies coolness and -correctness, rather than earnestness and warmth. He shuns the natural glow of feeling and expression, and quenches rath- er than cherishes the spirit of eloquence.* Early education ought to exhibit and implant principles which would anticipate and preclude the growth of false hab- its. A preventive regimen should be adopted in this, as in every other branch of culture. The ofiice of instruction is to preoccupy the mind, and infuse truth, rather than to eradi- cate error, — to form and mould and strengthen the power of expression, rather than to trim excrescences, — to inspire gen- uine emotion, and to infuse true grace, rather than to correct the petty errors of judgment, or check the transient excesses of feeling, and castigate the venial errors of immature taste. These functions, it is true, form a pai't of the duties of the * The easy and fluent manner of students from the South, forms an obvious contrast to the prevalent stiffness and reserve of the local man- ner at our Eastern colleges. The difference, in this case, is owing, large- ly, to the unrestrained freedom of style, which results from the modes of Soathem education, during the early period of life. FREEDOM, CONSTRAINT, RESERVE. 79 faithful teacher. But they are the mere ' mint, anise, and cummin,' compared to ' the mightier matters of the law.' The spirit of finical criticism invariably turns away the speaker's attention from his subject to himself. It troubles his mind with an embarrassing self-consciousness, which con- strains his manner, and cools hie emotion. The professional speaker has to labour under the disadvan- tage of a long course of such training. No wonder, therefore, that his style should be unnatural and constrained, as a result of habit and association. Against such evils the student who would form his manner to a free, expressive character, must necessarily watch, and zealously guard himself by constant practice. His chief aids will lie in the attentive study of the freest and most natural of all the forms of expression, those which are presented in the perfect products of art, — more par- ticularly those of sculpture and painting. He will be assisted by the daily practice of reading and reciting from the freest and most flowing language of poetry. He will derive still more benefit from accustoming himself to the vivid recitation of the most natural and expressive passages of the drama. No exercise in elocution is so conducive to freedom of man- ner as this.* The general effect on the preacher's style of address in the pulpit, as regards due freedom and facility, is, no doubt, de- pendent on the extent to which he accustoms himself to min- gle with society, and contract that familiarity with man which renders the office of communicating with him easy and spon- taneous. The secluded student is little prepared for one main office of the ministry, — that of free, unembarrassed utterance. Like every other art worth mastering, it requires of every individual, culture and practice, as the only conditions on which he can attain skill and facility. * The ancient practice of acting plays at school and college, and even at professional institutions, was founded on a true impression of the im- portance of free and natural manner in speaking. 80 PULPIT ELOCUTION. VARIETY, MONOTONY. Sentiments which possess force and interest to the mind, though they sometimes run comparatively long in one chan- nel of feeling and expression, do not pursue an undeviating, unvarying course. The nntural tendency of impressive thought, is to call up varied emotions and diversified forms of imagination. The appropriate communication of such thought, implies, therefore, a varying tone, aspect, and action. Trite thoughts may justify a monotonous manner of expressing them. But public address, especially from the pulpit, forbids the presentation of thread-bare topics and insignificant ideas. "We pardon these in the aimless movement of unpremeditated conversation, but not on occasions when numbers are assem- bled to hear important and impressive truths. The popular complaint, therefore, that preachers are defi- cient in variety of manner in their speaking, — although some- times an arbitrary objection, founded on a vague and general impression, regardless of particular circumstances which may happen to forbid variety, — is by no means destitute of founda- tion. Sermons are too commonly written after the fashion of academic themes on prescribed common-place topics. The mind of the writer pursues, in such cases, an unexciting, me- chanical routine of thought ; his pen betrays the fact in its trite language ; and his tones, — his very looks and gestures, — ^repeat the effect to ear and eye, in flat and wearisome mo- notony. The defects of early education, which, in other points, are so injurious to manner and so destructive to eloquence, reveal themselves distinctly here. The speaker in the pulpit carries with him the deadening influence of years of false habit and lifeless utterance, contracted from the neglect of his style in youth ; from the custom of declaiming, in an unmeaning and inexpressive way, passages either unintelligible or uninterest- ing to him; and, sometimes, from the stiffening effect of the arbitrary directions which he has received in the shape of formal instruction. The lifeless tones of school reading, are VARIETY, MONOTONY. 81 still haunting his ear as an unconscious standard ; and he consequently observes the beaten round of a uniform force, a uniform pitch, and a uniform gait of voice, destitute of ex- pression, — the primitive tone of no meaning and no feeling, which he instinctively and very justly applied in childhood, to what he could neither understand nor feel, — but a tone which inveterate habit has made natural to his ear. To such modes of voice the preacher not unfrequently adds a lifeless stillness of body, and an insipid sameness of gesture, which produce a similar effect on the eye to that which his utterance exerts on the ear. The fault of monotony is, if anywhere, unpardonable in the pulpit, where the speaker has the range of the universe, for his subjects, and the topics of spiritual and eternal life for his habitual themes. Why should the elocution of the preacher be almost proverbially monotonous ? Why should it so often furnish just ground for the sleepy hearer to devolve the fault of his condition on the preacher's voice ? The easy remedy for this state of matters, lies in the study of elocution, and the cultivation of expressive tone and action. A knowledge of the principles of audible and visible expres- sion, will enable the student to trace the natural and appro- priate difference of tones, and to identify every mode of utte- rance with its peculiar characteristic emotion. It will be impossible for him, afterwards, to mistake a dead level of voice for expressive variation. The discipline which the study of elocution prescribes, will enable him to acquire that command over his organs by which he may easily execute every transition and change of expression, which appropriate utterance or action requires. He will thus learn to substitute, for his pipe with one note, or his harp with one string, the natural, varied and powerful effect of man's living voice, inspired by varied emotion. He will be enabled to resume something of that vivid effect of bodily attitude and motion, which made him, in childhood, the envied model of the ora- tor, in the freedom, variety, and efficacy of his expressive action. The ever-varying style of Scripture will, thenceforth, Wm PULPIT ELOCUTION. no longer be misrepresented by his flat sameness of voice ; the inspiring hymn will not have its appropriate effect quench- ed by the morbid dullness of his heavy style of reading ; nor "will his discourse any longer operate, by its ' sleepy tune/ as a soothing soporific. The diligent cultivation of his manner, will enable the preacher to breathe life and freshness into all its aspects, and infuse a corresponding effect into his ministrations. The sub- jects which he presents, will naturally assume their appropri- ate and most striking lights, and fall upon the mind with their full force of effect. His hearers instead of reiterating the old complaint regarding the Sabbath, ' What a weariness it is !' will leave the sanctuary with hearts refreshed and reinvigo- rated, and minds ' stirred up' anew to every good work and every noble purpose. MANNERISM, ADAPTATION, APPROrRIATENESS. One of the common results of inadequate or misdirected early culture, in regard to elocution, is, that the style of young speakers, is so soon permitted to settle into fixed man- nerism. An observer who has opportunity of tracing the successive stages of development in individuals who are sub- jected to the customary routine of education, will perceive that the preacher in the pulpit bears, upon his style of delive- ry, the stamp of the same characteristics by which he was distinguished as a youth at college, and as a boy at school. This fact, were it the natural consequence of the growth and evolution of individual character and original tendency, — were it a spontaneous product of genius, — would be not only tolerable but positively agreeable, as a trait of elocution. The objection lies in the obvious fact, that the manner is arbitra- ry and conventional, — a mere matter of acquired habit, — a compound result of the influence of academic precedent and example, blending with a few accidental peculiarities of per- sonal tendency. For the speaker in the pulpit is often found .V mannerism:. ^'I 8^ reading his sermon with precisely the same tones and inflec- tions, and the same gestures, with which he declaimed at school, when doing his best to play the juvenile representa- tive of Cicero pleading against Yerres, or Chatham rebuking the inhumanity of Lord Suffolk. The preacher may be dis- coursing on the worth of the soul, and the vastness of eternal interests, and the danger of tampering with them ; but habit has set so irrevocably the key of his voice, that the whole ser- mon sounds, — sentence for sentence, cadence for cadence, — an exact copy of the utterance with which, when a candidate for college honours, he read his essay on the rhetorical traits of eminent writers. The habit of reading and declaiming sentences as such, which results from the uniformity of custom at school, con- verts every paragraph into a succession of detached senti- ments, each marked by an identical ' beginning, middle and end' of tone in the voice : — no matter what the difference of style or of subject. A similar effect is produced on gesture. Action is limited to two or three forms, — perhaps, not even more than one, — perpetually recurring, whether the natural emotion connected with the language of the sentence be joy or grief, complacency or aversion, courage or fear. An early culture adapted to the purposes of expression, would make the young pupil sensitively alive to the differ- ence of character and effect in the feelings of the heart, as expressed in the various tones of the voice, and the diversified language of mien and action, in the body. It would convert the human organs into so many instruments obedient to the skilful touch ; uttering, with unerring certainty, the exact music of each emotion, as it rose in the soul of the speaker. It would impart pliancy and grace and power to every mem- ber of the corporeal frame, in the act of executing the forms in which imagination naturally imbodies the thoughts and feelings of the mind, when animated by the spirit of commu- nication. Eloquence, in its external shape, would thus re- semble the natural effect of the shifting lights and shades and the changing colours of the mental scene. 84 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Elocution, were it duly cultivated, would teach the student that the perpetual recurrence of one tone, one pitch, one force, one inflection, one uniform melody, and one sing-song cadence, is as untrue to nature, and to the facts of language and sentiment, as it is false to feeling, and to the ear. The study of elocution would teach the indispensable lesson, that one sentiment inspires one look and action, and another, ano- ther, — that there is no more truth or consistency in using one movement of the arm, or one attitude of the body, for every sentiment and every sentence, than there would be in using one form of words, for the structure of every period in a dis- course. The natural shadings of emotion and sympathy, are, in fact, infinitely more diversified in the aspect and expres- Mon of the countenance and the person of the speaker, than they can ever become in the most pliant phrases of speech. The negligent speaker often justifies his mannerism, on the ground of personality. Speaking of his prominent faults, he will say, * This is my natural manner : I like to see individu- aUty of style in delivery, as in all other forms of expression ; and this trait constitutes mine. I cannot change it for anoth- er ; because that other, though perhaps better in itself, would not be natural to me.' This reasoning would be as sound as it is plausible in itself and comforting to indolence, were habit and nature invariably the same in individuals, and were manner inevitable and immutable, like Richter's cast-metal king. But manner in expression is the most plastic of all things : it can be moulded, at will, to whatever shape a de- cisive resolution and a persevering spirit determine. Atten- tive cultivation will reform, renovate, and re-create, here, as extensively as elsewhere. It will enable the individual to shake ofi" the old and put on the new vesture of habit, and to wear it, too, with perfect ease, as the true and the natural garb of expression. For all genuine culture is but the cherishing or the resuscitating of nature. A good writer is recognized by that perfect command of his pen, which enables him to vary his language with his subject ; and he is the most successful in written expression, who can MANNERISM. SiS- most easily and effectually give the changing aspect of thought its shifting hue of style. So it is with the good speaker : his manner ever varies with his subject : with him, every passing emotion has its appropriate mode of utterance- He is like the skilful and accomplished performer who- ranges over the whole compass of his instrument, ancfe forever draws forth new echoes of sympathy from the hearty in response to its changing tones. The natural and effective speaker, by the eloquence of his varying utterance, infuses fresh life into thought, and affects the soul of his hearers as the breath of morning or of spring. The factitious style of the mannerist, when it is strongly marked, attracts our atten- tion to itself, and obscures our impression of his thought ; but,, even when it is comparatively weak, it still hangs as a veil between the subject and the hearer's mind : its tendency is not to add but subtract effect ; it deducts something from the impression which would otherwise have been made. A man- ner well adapted to matter, is not merely a transparent medi- um : it sheds light on the objects of the mental scene : it has the kindling effect of sunlight on the landscape ; it brings out into distinct and impressive effect, the form, colour, and cha-^ racter of whatever it touches. To remove the defects of mannerism, and to secure the ad^- vantages of adaptation and appropriateness in delivery, the speaker's great aim should be to lose himself in his subject, and in every successive part of it, as it is developed in the progress of his discourse. His style will thus acquire its pro- per analogy to the sunlight and the shade, the life and the re- pose, the alternate brilliancy and the depth of effect, which nature gives when sun and shadow are shifting over the field, in correspondence with the passing cloud. The mannerist holds to himself, and to his accidents of personal habit, — and these perhaps quite artificial, — rather than to the current of his thoughts and their natural accompaniment of emotion. The speaker who is desirous of possessing the charm of fit- ting manner, will train his voice to the genuine utterance (^ every tone of emotion ; he will endeavour to acquire all that 8 86 PULPIT ELOCUTION. depth which the most impressive of his themes demand, in those tones which are the natural expression of solemnity and awe ; he will cultivate the power of giving voice to those thrilling notes of joy and rapture, in which the lofty strains of sacred lyrics so frequently abound ; he will study the effect of force and grandeur and sublimity in swelling the tones of praise and triumph ; he will watch the transition to the subdued and softened strains of penitence and contrition ; he will distinguish the slow movement of pathetic and solemn emotion from the accelerated utterance of cheerful and lively expression. His outward manner, in attitude and action, will be as various as his voice : he will evince the inspiration of appropriate feeling in the very posture of his frame ; in utter- ing the language of adoration, the slow-moving, uplifted hand will bespeak the awe and solemnity which pervade his soul ; in addressing his fellow-men in the spirit of an ambassador of Christ, the gentle yet earnest spirit of persuasive action, will be evinced in the pleading hand and aspect ; he will know, also, how to pass to the stern and authoritative mien of the re- prover of sin ; he will, on due occasions, indicate, in his kind- ling look and rousing gesture, the mood of him who is em- powered and commanded to summon forth all the energies of the human soul ; his subdued and chastened address will carry the sympathy of his spirit into the bosom of the mourn- er ; his moistening eye and his gentle action will manifest his teilderness for the suffering : his whole soul will, in a word, become legible in his features, in his attitude, in the expressive eloquence of his hand ; his whole style will be felt to be that of heart communing with heart. The mannerist in speaking is often cut off from the possi- bility of attaining to the effects of genuine eloquence, by the inappropriateness of his fixed habit to the language and the sentiment which he is uttering. Mannerism is usually the predominance of one trait, which has more or less exclusive character attached to it. The vehement mannerist, accord- ingly, when addressing the sufferer whose heart is well-nigh ^crushed under the weight of calamity, jars the whole sympa- MANNERISM. 88^ thetic nature of his hearer, by the inappropriate and revolt- ing violence of his tone and action. His very consolations may assume the expression of scolding. The feeble manner- ist, when employed to arouse an assembly from spiritual su- pineness, soothes them to sleep by his lifeless humming tone, and the sway of his waving, spiritless action. One of the most obvious traits of mannerism, and one which nothing but the assiduous practice of elocution can do away, is that mode of utterance which is, in popular phrase, called ' a tone.' The fault impHed by this term, consists in the continual recurrence of a particular mode of voice, in em- phasis, inflection, cadence, or ' expression,'* but, more fre- quently, in the ' melody,'t or peculiar notes, which character- ize a speaker's vocal habits. This species of mannerism in speech, has been expressly designated by Dr. Rush, the great analyst of elocution, as a * drift' or obvious tendency of voice, in the effect of one re- peated trait of utterance, on the ear. Every passion, or strain of emotion, has a distinctive ' drift,' — a tendency to re- peat certain qualities of expression ; and the effect arising from change of direction in ' drift,' by the natural shifting of the vocal current, with every new emotion, in successive pas- sages, constitutes a marked peculiarity of animated, true, and expressive style, — alike in conversation, in reading, and in public speaking. The fault of mannerism in utterance," substitutes, for this appropriate variation of voice, an arbitrary recurrence of sound, not authorized or required by the nature of the emo- tion which, in a given passage, ought to set the key and guide the style. The reader, in consequence of this fault, utters * The peculiar effect of feeling, or emotion, on the voice ; as when we speak of the tone of anger, or of pity. t The effect of sound as depending on the succession of notes which the voice executes in a given strain, clause, or phrase- Thus, awe is charac- terized by the recurrence of low notes, and inclines to monotony ; joy, tra- verses the scale, from low to high, and from high to low, and is marked by variety ; interrogation slides up the scale ; and the cadence of a sentence gHdes downward. 0» PULPIT ELOCUTION. not the meaning and spirit of his author's language, but the song of his own arbitrary and accidental habit. He does not change the character of his utterance, with the varying senti- ments of the composition ; but while the most striking changes of feeling are obviously indicated in the phrases which he is enunciating, he continues to repeat his identical melody, with no attempt at variation. He goes on executing, with unde- viating precision, one and the same inflection at every com- ma, and one and the same cadence at every period, — be the sense or the feeling of the sentence what it may. His voice is like a hand-organ set to but one tune : it may be kept go- ing by the hour, the day, or the year ; yet it will give out but the same succession of sounds. A ready ear may catch a preventive lesson, as regards this fault, by listening to the natural variations of voice, in conver- sation, and thus enable the reader to mould his utterance to diversity of effect. But empiric methods imply no definite and certain aims, and consequently no sure results. The reader or the speaker who aims at the style of conversation, as his model, if he succeeds in bringing his vocal habits out of mechanical and unmeaning ' drift,' — if he frees himself from the formalities of a mere ' reading tone,' — is apt, on the other hand, to acquire that characteristic 'drift' of mere con- versational style, which is, literally, a ' talking tone,' — too versatile, too vivacious for the dignity of public reading or speaking, — and fit only for easy and careless communication by the fireside. The power of applying musical distinctions to the varying sounds of the voice, will be of great service to the reader, by rendering his ear discriminating as to vocal effect. But the modes of voice which come under the special cognizance of elocution, must be studied by themselves, in exact detail, by all who wish to acquit themselves thoroughly to the duty of public speaking. The close analysis which Dr. Rush has exemplified in his Philosophy of the Voice,* enables every ♦ The manual of Orthophony, prepared by Mr. Murdoch and the au- thor of this volume, contains a practical exposition of Dr. Rush's system. INDIVIDUALITY OF MANNER. 89 student who is willing to take the pains, to become expert in the discrimination and execution of every point of vocal ex- pression. The application of the elementary distinctions ex- hibited in that treatise, will effectually remove every trait of factitious manner from vocal habit in elocution. INDIVIDUALITY OF MANNER. Mannerism in delivery not unfrequently passes for the real excellence of individuality in style, — a trait which, so far from possessing any artificial character, is the expression of spon- taneous life and eloquence. But this feature of expressive power, is, like many others, depressed by the deadening influ- ence of formality and routine in education. Boys at school are left to sink into one uniform mould, in their habits of ut- terance and action : their exercises possess so little life and interest to their minds, that to perform such tasks with natu- ral spirit, and as a part of their own mental action and expe- rience, is impossible. Juvenile declamation, accordingly, wears, in most instances, the second-hand air of a thing done as others do it, and because others do it. It is allowed to consist of a certain unmeaning loudness of voice, a singing and swelling utterance, and a given upraising of the hand, — all bearing the stamp of prescription, and habit, and average style. The formality, indeed, of the usual staple of language in declamation, seems, of itself, to prescribe just such uniform manner in every speaker : there is nothing in it which speaks to the heart of the individual, and brings out the inner man, with his own peculiar tones, and looks, and actions. Could teachers and parents be content to let boys utter their own sentiments in their own language, the result of ex- ercises in speaking would be very different from what it is. Boys would, in that case, speak as boys, not as 'potent, grave, and reverend' seniors. Every juvenile speaker would give his heart to his work, and would bring out his own manner. 8* W PULPIT ELOCUTION. The teacher would then take his true place as a friendly guide, prompter, and aid, not as a cool critic and ex-post-facto executioner : he would assist the pupil in bringing out his native impulses of thought and feeling, in forms adapted to his own nature. Speaking would thus become a spontaneous and pleasurable function of the individual ; habit would grow into natural and accordant forms, revealing the genuine men- tal life that lay under them. The prevalence of neglect and perversion, in our customa- ry modes of education, suffers every youth, as he enters a place of instruction, to be cast into the academic mould, and come out precisely like the rest. He carries with him, ac- cordingly, into subsequent stages of life, the impress which Jie has thus received : the school tone, somewhat deepened and amplified, and the school gesture, somewhat strengthened, may clearly be traced in the man, even at the bar and in the pulpit. The effects of neglect and of erroneous training, are con- spicuous in the prevalence of uniformity of manner among clergymen. The act of delivering a discourse is apparently, in many cases, a process of repeating certain prescribed tones and gestures which every individual is expected to go through very much like all others. The natural diversity of temper- ament and character, is not, — to judge by appearances, — considered an appropriate element of effect. A good speaker, it is true, will always merge himself in his subject, and never obtrude himself at its expense. But thought, even the most abstract, when it passes into expres- sion, is, like the purest water, naturally subjected to the tinge of the channel through which it flows. The individuality of the man should never be lost in the formal function of the speaker. There is no law of necessity that every sermon should be a succession of low and hollow tones, false inflec- tions, mechanical cadences, and stereotype gestures ; — the whole manner so proverbially unnatural, that, among juvenile classes at school, when one pupil would sum up, in one ex- pressive word, his criticism on a fellow-pupil who has spoken INDIVIDUALITY OF MANNER. 91 in a heavy, uniform syle, he says of him, * He does not speak, he preaches.^ The study of elocution, if it were duly attended to, as a part of early education, would enable the young speaker to recognize and trace the natural differences of manner, which ought to exist in individuals, in their modes of applying the same general principles. The genuine characteristics of ex- pression, are so numerous and varied, that they afford vast scope for the natural diversity of action, in different mental and physical constitutions. The elements of effect, blended in one expressive tone, amount sometimes to more than six or eight, even in the unstudied utterance of a person utterly illiterate. The temperament and tendency of an individual, therefore, may well be expected to cause him to lean to one more than others among these elements. The enunciation, for example, of the phrase of devotional address, " O Lord !" may receive its reverential effect, in the utterance of one speaker, from its deep and solemn pitch, chiefly ; in that of another, from its majestic fullness and swell ; in that of a third, from its prolongation and slowness of sound ; whilst all these properties may still be traced uni- ted in the style of each ; with this distinction, only, that while one quality preponderates in one speaker, another may in an- other. A similar remark applies to gesture. Constitution and temperament may incline one speaker to one shade of difference in the line or the force of an action, and another to another ; and yet both may coincide in the general style and effect. Our prevalent modes of education permit all individual tendencies to be swallowed up in one engulfing routine of neglect or prescription. The preacher, therefore, under the influence of such early training, comes before us divested of that native originality of manner, which is so distinctly felt as the eloquence of private communication. To recover his individuality, he must reform and renovate his whole style of speaking, so as to let his own nature shine through it. In address, heart ' only is the loan for' heart. But how seldom M PULPIT ELOCUTION. can its throb be felt through the enveloping folds of false and formal habit ! The preacher who would successfully discharge the duty of his office, must acquire the power of throwing his personal character into his manner. Mere elocution is a poor substi- tute for the living sympathy of soul in the man who addres- ses us. The former, even when it is perfect, gains only ad- miration : the latter wins the whole heart, and convinces the mind, at once, of the speaker's sincerity, and of the truth of what he utters. We hear, sometimes, a just complaint of the influence and tendency of ceremony in religion. But no robing or costume so eflfectually enwraps the soul, as a ceremonious tone, which offers to the ear the language of the office and not of the man. DIGNITY, FAMILIARITY. Man's upright form and noble stature are naturally attend- ed by dignity in movement and action. An erect attitude, a lofty can-iage, a commanding air, are characteristic even of the savage who spends his days in little else than asserting his dominion over the brutes, or communicating with his fel- lows whose habits are but a little more elevated than those of the animals which they hunt Civilized life, by its enervat- ing influence, brings down the erect and heroic mien, and the fearless demeanour, which are natural to man, while con- sciously sufficient to himself, and independent of factitious support. The courtesy and the condescensions of refinement, bring along with them tameness and feebleness in manner and in character : a bland and flexible exterior takes, in the forms of conventional habit, the place of the manly and ma- jestic port of nature. The transition from childhood to manhood, is attended with similar effects on the aspect and deportment of the hu- man being. The unconscious, unabashed child exhibits, often, the noblest forms of attitude and action. The school- DIGNITY, FAMILIARITY. 98 boy loses his self-possession, and shrinks and cowers, in the consciousness of being observed : he lacks the decision, the firmness, and the dignity of manner, which he possessed in earlier life, when mingling with his equals and companions. The bearing of the youth gives still stronger evidence of be- ing vitiated by self-consciousness, and overweening regard for the estimation of others. The speaker, who, in the maturity of manhood, addresses his fellow-beings, manifests, not un- frequently, in his crest-fallen air, in his hesitating utterance and embarrassed actions, his want of conscious elevation and power, and betrays the fact that he does not approach the task with a manly reliance on himself and his subject. Self- respect seems to desert him, when subjected to observation : his nature appears to shrink, rather than to expand, with the circumstances in which he is placed. Eloquence, the result of expressive power, is a thing unat- tainable in such a situation; for eloquence implies freedom, manly firmness, and force, a genuine moral courage, a con- scious elevation of soul, a positive inspiration of mind. It presupposes that the speaker stands, for the moment, above those whom he addresses, for the very purpose of lifting them up to the level of his own views, and inspiring them with his own feelings. The persuasive condescension of the orator is never incompatible with the native majesty of man. The preacher, more than any other speaker, should evince a just consciousness of the noble nature of his commission. Haughtiness, undoubtedly, or arrogance of manner, is utterly incompatible with the meek spirit of the Christian minister. But a due sense of the dignity of his office, should breathe an air of genuine nobleness into all his expression. It should equally forbid a disturbing and degrading consciousness of the presence of his fellow-men, and an unbecoming remissness or familiarity of manner, on his own part, by which he migh t seem to let down his just self-respect, or his regard for the sacred function which he is called to perform. One mode of address by which the pulpit is' lowered in the estimation of the world, is that undignified familiarity of tone, 94 PULPIT ELOCUTION. which some preachers assume, under the impression that such a manner is the proper way to be easy and natural in utte- rance, and thus to gain access to the minds of their hearers. The line, in such cases, is not drawn between conversation and mere talk, — much less between private and public con- versation. Simplicity, naturalness, and directness of style, all demand an analogy to serious and elevated conversation, in the utterance of the preacher. But the dignity of the pul- pit forbids all talking familiarity and slipshod ease which bor- der on carelessness of air and manner. The sacredness of association with which the place and the man are invested, should be felt by the preacher, not less than the people, as a barrier of sanctity against every freedom which tends to dese- crate the pulpit. The leaning and lounging attitudes, and the slack, familiar gestures in which some preachers permit themselves to in- dulge, bear more resemblance to the air of the toil-worn rus- tic, resting his wearied frame on the fence-rail, as he chats with his neighbour at the close of the day, than to the de- portment of one who is or should be fulfilling a nobler func- tion than was ever imagined in the highest conceptions of the ancient orator. It is true that dignity is not stiffness, nor de- corum constraint. But some speakers in the pulpit seem never to have drawn the line that separates freedom from negligence and slovenliness of manner, ease and self-posses- sion from low familiarity and nonchalance. If there is one spot on earth where the stamp of vulgar habit and association is disgusting, it is the pulpit, which even the grossest minds are inclined to regard with veneration. Nor is it going too far, to assert, that nothing has so strong a tendency to dimin- ish the proper influence of the pulpit, as the remissness of its occupant, regarding the first requirements of personal dignity in him who conducts the oflSce of public worship, and pre- sents, for the time, the living impersonation of religious sen- timent.* ♦ The slovenly habit of former years, of allowing the hand to repose in the pocket, used to extend, itself to some pulpits. A negative rule of at- DIGNITY, FAMILIARITY. 95 A few hours' attention to the subject would enable the preacher to recognize the appropriate traits of becoming dig- nity and elevation of manner, and to avoid habits which are offensive to the general sense of propriety, not less than to refined taste. A single glance at the mirror in his room, while the speaker was at practice, would be the most effectu- al admonition to guard against those writhings of the body, noddings of the head, and jerkings of the arm, which degrade the preacher into the free and easy debater at a club-meeting. A few weeks' study of the principles of gesture, would open up to the mind a whole world of association, and of law and principle, regarding attitude and action. It would mould the speaker's whole outward man anew, and, at least, cut off the glaring errors of habit, if it did not inspire appropriateness and grace. The stately dignity of deportment, which, in former years, was the distinguishing trait of the Christian gentleman and accomplished scholar, in the pulpit, has passed away with the noble race of men who exemplified its effects. The polish of private life from which it sprung, has, to say the least, obvi- ously declined. But the change leaves something wanting to the heart. The authoritative mien of the old divine, had, titude is, in all forms of address, that the speaker's right hand should be by his side, when not raised in gesture, as the very dropping and the still- ness of the hand are properly parts of the effect of gesture. The act of addressing a public assembly, implies that the speaker is in possession of sufficient health and strength to stand on his feet, and to support his own weight. It forbids, therefore, the sluggish habit of leaning on sur- rounding objects. Dignity of carriage forbids equally the indolent air produced by resting one hand on the side, on the back, or anywhere on the speaker's person. Convenience and freedom of manner allow the left hand to repose on or near the speaker's notes, so as to execute, when needful, the indispensable act of turning the leaves. But nothing can warrant the unseemly, uncouth, and awkward habit of supporting the body with each hand resting on one side of the cushion, or that of repos- ing with one elbow embedded in it. The former trick leads, unavoida- bly, to the consummation of ungainly appearance, by rendering it neces- sary that, when the speaker becomes earnest, he should manifest it by wriggling his vertebral column, instead of obeying nature's law, and using his hand in gesture. 96 PTTLPIT ELOCUTION. perhaps, something in it of the arrogance of office. But in taking away the conventional elevation of manner, we have removed with it, a portion of genuine dignity. The reforma- tion which has * popularized' the pulpit, has lowered its tone, and limited its influence on the preacher as well as on the people. FORMALITY, PRIMNESS, RIGIDITY. One effect of manner, which impairs the life of pulpit elo- quence, is formality of style. A professional, ceremonious intonation, and a technical, measured solemnity of mien and action, are the characteristics of this mode of delivery. The speaker's whole aspect, his voice, and his gestures, are, in consequence of this fault, thrown, apparently, into a mechan- ical mould which has left its impress on the whole man, and prevents the possibility of his expressing himself with a nat- ural, life-like effect. Preachers of this class are distinguished by a marble fix- edness of features, an habitual upturned eye, a heavy, hollow, and uniform tone, a rigid and laborious style of movement and action. This stereotype manner precludes everything like adaptation to change of circumstances or of subject. The man becomes, in such cases, too much of an automaton, to impart spiritual or intellectual life to others. He kills rather than awakens sympathy : he renders himself incapable of arousing or interesting the mind. His fixed formality of manner converts devotion into ceremony, and worship into soulless routine : it renders preaching an unmeaning and un- profitable piece of custom. Solemnity and decorum are, undoubtedly, the aim of the speaker, in all such instances of manner. But the mechani- cal and laboured style, and the literal character of the whole affair, produce, unavoidably, an exterior rather than an inte- rior effect. The origin of the fault of formality, seems to be FORMALITr. 97 the general impression, stamped in early life, that the pulpit is necessarily associated with certain looks and tones. The preacher himself yields unconsciously to the influence of such impressions, and complies with it, in his manner of speaking.. The result is that he moulds his style into a decorous gravity^. or a deep solemnity, more than into an earnest and living ex- pression of his personal sentiments. He assumes, uninten- tionally, an air and an utterance which are not, properly,, his own, but part and parcel of his profession. The study of elocution prescribes the easy and certain rem- edy for such habits, by accustoming the speaker to analyze his tones, and trace distinctly the difference between the mode of voice which betrays a factitious utterance, and that which comes warm and true from the heart, with the inspiration of the moment fresh upon it. The preparatory discipline in elo- cution would enable the student to awaken and vivify his voice, and modulate its expression into the natural variations of personal feeling, without which there can neither be life nor eloquence in speech. Formality, in the case of some speakers, assumes the fee- ble form of primness of manner, with its sparing voice, pre- cise articulation, nice emphasis, fastidious inflection, meagre tone, and mincing gesture. This prudery of style is not un- frequently exemplified in the pulpits of New England, in con- sequence of the anxious precision and exactness of habit which are so general as local traits. The speaker's whole manner seems, in consequence of this tendency, to be weigh- ed and given out with the most scrupulous and cautious re- gard to rigorous accuracy of effect in petty detail. Elocution, becomes, in such cases, a parallel to the transplanted tree^ trimmed of all its natural life and beauty, and, for the time, resembling, in its quaintness and rigidity, rather a bare pole, than a product of vegetable nature. The result of such a manner is to anatomize and kill feel- ing, — not to inspire it : the head is, in this way, allowed to* take the place of the heart. Exact discrimination and subtle nicety of intellect, preponderate, usually, in the effect of such 9 98 PULPIT ELOCUTION. speaking on the hearer : his affections are left unmoved : he is unconscious, throughout the discourse, of one manly im- pulse or strong impression. The prim, guarded, neutralizing manner of the preacher, seems, in such instances, the appro- priate style of coldness and scepticism, rather than of a warm and living faith. The fault of undue precision of manner, may be traced partly to the influence of undue anxiety about mere literal exactness, partly to the absence of manly force and indepen- dence of character, and partly to faulty education, which has led the speaker to pay more regard to the effect which he produces on the understanding and the judgment, than that which he exerts on the moral sympathies of his audience.* The last of these influences accustoms the school-boy to pre- cision and point of emphasis, and speciality of inflection, more than to earnest energy of utterance and impressive emotion. Early habit, thus directed, leads the student and the preacher to a corresponding mode of address, and involves all the de- fects of an over-pruned manner, with its unavoidable results of cool and fastidious preciseness, which offers nothing to the heart, and therefore leaves undone the great business for which the preacher addresses mankind. Formality of manner in speaking, is sometimes caused, in part, by an unbending rigidity of habit, which is plainly legi- ble in the unyielding features, stiff postures, and stiff gestures, of some preachers. These faults of habit in address, are partly owing to false impressions regarding manly firmness and dignity, partly to the want of free and genial and exten- sive intercourse with the world, and partly to an early culture * An impressive lesson on the futility of mere preciseness, used to be given by a popular lecturer on local peculiarities of character, to his audiences at the West, in a humorous delineation, in which two worthy Eastern deacons were represented as discussing, at great length, and with much eaniestness, the comparative significance of the synonymous terms rules and regulations. The parties, after much expenditure of logic, " concluded upon the whole, that ' rules ' would best apply to a canal, and ' regulations ' to a railroad.^'' RIGIDITY. 99 deficient in the means of imparting flexibility and grace to the mental and bodily faculties. It is a matter of frequent observation among the people of other countries, and a fact noted also by English writers, themselves, that the characteristic manner of the English, is ungainly and rigid, in comparison with that of other nations. A sullen taciturnity of habit, a surly brevity of reply, a con- strained stiffness of posture and motion, and a confined, reluc- tant gesture, are the predominating national traits in daily intercourse. The New P^nglander seems to inherit a full share of the hereditary stiffness and constraint, though not of the taciturnity and bluffness of the family stock. This fea- ture of the common lineage, becomes haughtiness in the En- glishman. But in the New Englander it degenerates into mere rigidity and unmeaning stiffness. A genial early culture, and a wide intercourse with man- kind, tend equally to render the human being plastic and flexi- ble : they give him the power and the spirit of self-adaptation ; they give him ease and fluency in address, and the power of eliciting sympathy from others. But the general defect of established modes of education, is that, from the absence of due provision for the development of man's social and moral nature, youth is left destitute of appropriate aids to the forma- tion of exterior manner in the daily communications of pri- vate life, and in the function of public speaking. Hence it happens that we so often see the juvenile speaker on the academic stage, rigid in posture, and awkward in move- ment and action. The want of early training leaves him ut- terly deficient in the natural ease and grace of a cultivated and polished youth. His body seems nailed to the floor, his members galvanized into metallic stiffness, his head glued to his neck, his eye motionless in its socket, his arm pinioned to his side. His whole visible mien and movement are those of an ill-adjusted machine. His voice, too, possesses the same 'inflexible character, in its monotonous utterance. A degree of this style continues to exert its injurious influ- ence on the college student and the professional man. A 100 PULPIT ELOCUTION. rigid, inflexible air, and a mechanical stiffness in gesture, are, accordingly, in many instances, the habitual style of the speaker in the pulpit. These faults unavoidably attract the attention of the audience to the preacher's personal manner, more than to his subject ; as a messenger of ungainly, rigid manner and aspect, presents himself, rather than his message, to those whom he accosts. And, even when the mind has become somewhat enured to the fault of manner, there is still a hinderance caused by it, in regard to any effectual access to the feelings. Men naturally refuse to yield the sympathy of the heart to a speaker whose manner is so inappropriate in point of judgment and taste. The stiflf attitude and inflexible features do not solicit and win attention ; and the rigid arm and rigid hand are incapable of executing a motion which shall come as an appeal to the heart. The correctives for rigid habit in a speaker's manner, are, in part, to be sought in the cultivation and refinement of taste, by which the mind is guarded against every uncouth and re- pulsive effect in expression. An excellent remedial influence will always be derived from habitual contact with the ease and polish of elevated society. The meliorating influence of the fine arts should ever be solicited by the student whose purpose is to addict himself to public speaking. But the ex- press study of gesture, as a part of elocution, will exert the most direct influence on manner and habit. It will lead the student to discern tlie character and effect of every attitude and action of the body. It will teach him that there is no escape from the impression which external manner produces; that the speaker who neglects this part of elocution, incurs the effects of inappropriateness and awkwardness, and, sometimes, of self-contradiction, in the discrepance between the style of his gesture and the language of his tongue ; that he who flat- ters himself with the hope of escaping inapppropriate manner by avoiding action, gives, by his statue-like and motionless posture, the lie to any earnestness betrayed in his voice. Earnestness warms and impels the heart ; and, by the law of our constitution, the same nerve which glows and quivers at PROPRIETY OP MANNER. 101 the fountain head thrills along the arm to the expressive hand, and solicits its action. The rigid speaker who attempts to counteract this effect, kills, equally, his own emotions and those of his audience : he destroys the natural character of communication, and defeats its purposes. PEOPRIETY OF MANNER. Nothing so effectually prevents the existence of eloquence in a speaker's manner, as a fastidious primness in his style of utterance and action, which hems him in on every side, and allows him no latitude of tone or scope of expressive action. There can be no interest felt in the address of a preacher whose whole elocution is so pruned and pared that it is utterly destitute of the natural freedom and exuberance of life. It is not less true, however, that if there is any form of pub- lic speaking, in which a strict regard to propriety is demanded, it is that of a discourse delivered from the pulpit. The com- parative freedom of manner in the accustomed forms of gene- ral society among us, ought to inspire a noble dignity of ad- dress, in our public speakers. Its actual effect, however, on individuals, is often to create an indifference, or even reckless- ness of deportment, which is anything but appropriate, in con- nection with sacred oratory. The following is as literal a delineation as the writer's command of words enables him to give of impressions re- ceived by him, from the manner of an eminent preacher. At the appointed hour for commencing service, the minister came bustling along the aisle, — ran rapidly up the pulpit steps, and, on entering the pulpit began rubbing his hands in compliment to the cold air of the wintry morning, — dashed open the leaves of the Bible, — rattled off a few verses in the style of the most violent hurry, calling out the Words in rapid succession, — implored a blessing on the services in nearly the same style of voice, — read the hymn after the fashion of a lively paragraph in a newspaper, — called out a prayer in which 9* 102 PULPIT ELOCUTIOK. every portion — adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and peti- tion, all alike, had no slight resemblance to the style of mili- tary command or of a popular harangue. The sermon, in its t)old, rapid, and vehement style, was eloquent with the tones of the most indignant invective, accompanied by the effects of the most arrogant and dogmatic expression of head, eye, and person. The speaker's whole manner imbodied the language •of natural signs, in a style so marked and fierce, that a phrenologist would have found his eye instinctively wandering over the surfaces of the preacher's head to trace its associated indications in the regions of ' combativeness* and 'self- -esteem,' in confirmation of his theory of human tendencies. The moral proprieties of the pulpit, are not, it is true, very often violated to this extent. Yet we frequently hear tones, in the exercise of devotion, which the ear is accustomed to recognize as those of deciding, ordering, and commanding, rather than of supplicating. AVe hear, sometimes, a strain, in prayer, which reminds us rather of familiar talking than of de- votion ; we hear, sometimes, in a sermon, the tone of domes- tic scolding ; and we see, occasionally, in the speaker's man- ner, the frown of personal anger, and the clinched fist of the popular partizan. All these undeniable indications of misdirected and un- modified habit, are unintentional, — in effect, at least. They are the natural results of unrestrained and undisciplined vio- lence of personal tendency in the individual : they are, to him, but the expressions of earnest feeling. Yet could a friendly hand present to the speaker's eye, in one of his par- oxysms of excitement, the reflection of his own countenance and figure in a mirror, he would need no other monitor to re- mind him, that how natural soever these results of emotion might have become in his own habits, or innocuous to himself personally, they are grossly immoral in their effect on others. A very moderate degree of attention to the study and prac- tice of elocution, would assist speakers of this stamp to subdue the voice to the tones of decency, and the person to the aspect of decorum, and to win the hearers whom they otherwise dis- PROPRIETY OF MANNER. 103 gust and repel. The discipline of elocution, in its connection with the pulpit, if it is true to its purposes, suggests to the speaker, that, in sacred oratory, the chastening spirit of Chris- tian meekness, is ever a most eloquent though silent effect. Many preachers, whose temperament and habit secure them from the moral improprieties of manner, fail in the due observance of that species of propriety, which has been termed obedience to the code of minor morals. The legion of negli- gent, not to say low, personal habits, which defective early education, at home, leaves so generally prevalent among us, as a people, are by no means excluded from the pulpit. It may be sufficient, here, to allude to the Scottish preacher stopping, in the midst of his discourse, to regale his nostrils with their wonted portion of snuff, as finding his ' pendant' in the picture of our own Southern preacher attending, in the face of his congregation, to the nauseating process which necessity or habit entails on the chewing of tobacco. We forbear, likewise, to enlarge on the gross offences committed against decency, in the not unusual act of combing the hair with the fingers, during the intervals of active duty ; — the public exhibition and display of the handkerchief which has just been employed to prove its very serviceable character in cases of catarrh ; — the tooth-pickings and nail-cleanings, which are sometimes deferred to be done in the pulpit ; — the copious indulgence in coughing and expectoration, which is often more a neces- sity of habit than of disease ; the loUings, and loungings, and leanings, and multiform free and easy postures occasionally exhibited. "When, amid sights of this description, the hearer happens to advert to the fact, that the preacher is, for the moment, the ambassador of Infinite Majesty, the shock of incongruous feeling is too much to be endured. The preacher's standard of personal manner ought certainly to be at least as high as any that the higiiest elevation of genuine taste and refine- ment has ever established. The study of elocution would, in relation to propriety of effect in aspect and bearing, suggest, in a single lesson of a 104 PULPIT ELOCUTION. few minutes* duration, the few practical rules which are requisite to mould the outward man in habit. Even a very- slight attention to t)ie preliminary rules of posture and move- ment, would exert such an influence on the associations of the mind, aswould insure a tendency to becoming style in personal carriage and demeanour. The preacher might thus be saved from habitually committing revolting offences against taste and propriety, and so avoid the barrier which, otherwise, he builds up, with his own hands, between himself and his hearers. WARMTH OF MANNER. Feeling, when it is earnest and vivid, rises naturally to those stages which we designate by the terms ' warmth ' and * fervour.' These qualities bear the same relation to eloquence, that the * lyric fire * does to the higher species of poetry. The element of * passion' is indispensable to all the transcendent effects of expression, in whatever form or in whatever art they are exemplified. Horner and Horace, among the poets of antiquity, and Milton and Watts, in modern times, dis- play, in high perfection, this genuine trait of excellence in expression. Impassioned utterance, or that which rises to the full height of inspired and inspiring emotion, and attains to a vivid elo- quence, is indebted, for its characteristic effect, to the ' celes- tial fire ' with which it glows. Intensity and ardour in the desires and aspirations of the soul, — the very fervour of its highest devotional feeling, — all are evinced by the ' burning words ' which seem to issue directly from the heart. This highest form of emotion demands a correspondent in- tensity and impassioned power of utterance. We hear it in the voice of the orator, when kindled by vivid personal feel- ing transcending the formal limits of art. We hear it in the recitation of poetry, when the speaker gives forth the poetic fire of genuine, intense emotion. We hear it in the true and WARMTH OF MANNER. 105 appropriate reading of the rapturous strains of the prophets and the psalmist, in the sacred Scriptures. It belongs, also, to the impassioned aspirations and devout ecstasies of the soul, in the language of the higher species of hymns. Its effect may be heard in the utterance of the preacher whose lips have been touched with the ' live coal from the altar,' and whose Boul is aglow with those emotions which spring from near inter- course with God and fervent feeling for man. The inspiring thrill of genuine passion pervades all earnest eloquence, in whatever form it kindles the heart and fires the imagination of man. As a mood of emotion, it exists, in de- gree, even in the humbler forms of public address on ordinary occasions, if these imply life and spirit in expression. Its effect is, in all cases, analogous, more or less, to the commu- nicative heat which imparts itself from object to object, till all are enveloped in the common flame. The electric spark from the vivid and eloquent speaker, is thus transmitted to the sympathies of his audience, till all are thrilled by the com- mon impulse, and fired with the common glow. The speaker who never rises to warmth and fervour of feeling, falls short of the highest and noblest purposes of elo- quence. To the preacher in the pulpit there is an impressive lesson to be caught from the spirit of the poet's phrase, when he speaks of ' the seraph that adores and burns.' A noble zeal cannot exist without ardour ; devotion cannot inspire the soul, without fervour ; the heart cannot beat for man's highest good, without warmth. Some preachers, it is true, give themselves up too exclu- sively to the influence of this element of eloquence : their fire degenerates into phrenzy : excessive passion is, with them, allowed to usurp the whole man: their manner becomes that of animal excitement, and deviates into extravagance and excess. Hence the ungovernable violence of voice, in such speakers, and their phrenzied vehemence of gesture. Other preachers, however, err on the other extreme, and by their uniform coldness of utterance and frigidity of ges- ture, chill the feelings of their hearers. The special office of 106 PULPIT ELOCUTION. sacred eloquence, is to incite and inspire and enkindle the soul. But the effect of the too common style of the pulpit, is to cool and to benumb. How can the preacher cause the heart to glow with the sacred fire of love or joy, whose ac- cents * freeze as they fall,' and whose torpid frame seems to have been transmuted to marble ? Questions of intense interest are justly expected to excite ardour of feeling and glow of expression. Men, in relation to such subjects, are generally more willing to pardon some- thing to the spirit of warm emotion, than to be content with deliberate coolness. Heartfelt and earnest conviction will not stop short at ordinary manifestations : it will incline rather to a fervour of utterance and action, at which fastidiousness might be apt to take offence. There is, occasionally, something ir- repressible in genuine emotion. He who speaks from the inmost soul, is himself sometimes carried away in the com- mon rush of feeling which his own eloquence has caused. The preacher who deeply feels the worth of the human soul, the brevity and uncertainty of hfe, and man's proneness to callous indifference regarding his eternal well-being, cannot contemplate the case coolly, and treat of it in well-ordered sentences, and quiet tones, and remonstrate upon it with tranquil mien and composed action. The deeper sources of feeling must, in such circumstances, necessarily be stirred within him : the inner fire of the soul must be kindled : his whole being will glow with intense emotion : his tones, if true to his heart, will be fired with a sacred fervour : his features will beam with impassioned expression : his whole frame will be inspired, his arm impelled, by the zeal and ardour of his spirit. Coldness of manner is, in some speakers, a fault of habit which originates partly in constitution and temperament. But, in most, it is the consequence of imperfect or ill-directed culture. Faults of the former description are by no means so obdurate as is sometimes imagined. The testimony of the physiologist is clear and decisive on the point that, with ade- quate attention and care, we can, by processes of cultivation, WARMTH OF MANNER. 107 change the temperament of individuals from the muscular to the nervous character. The discipline of education, in an- cient Greece, was conducted so as to blend and unite these temperaments, in every individual, by a high-toned physical training, accompanied by the most elevated forms of intellec- tual culture, and an intense incitement applied to the senti- ments and passions. The magnificent ideal of human ex- cellence which Grecian education set up as its standard, was fully attained in the personal and mental character of such men as Xenophon and Epaminondas, — instances in which the attainments of the philosopher, the statesman, the general, the scholar, the poet, the orator, the artist, the athlete, the moral enthusiast, were all blended in the individual man. Modern education aims principally at the developement of a few of the intellectual faculties. It leaves the general character cold and feeble, from the absence of healthful vigour of body, and inspiring energy of heart and will. It represses emulation, and limits ambition, but substitutes no inciting mo- tives of equal force and of higher character. Its tendency to excite the cerebral organ, by too great intensity of action, Abuses, by its morbid excess, a correspondent depression of genial emotion and ennobling sentiment : it leaves feeling and fancy, — the main sources of expression, — to languish and sub- side. It furnishes no adequate instruction in the art of speak- ing, but rather quenches or cools the spirit of eloquence, by inappropriate influences. Few, accordingly, among our youth, retain the natural glow of utterance, through the various stages of education, so as to come out warm, energetic, and effective speakers. The young minister in the pulpit, commences his career of public duty, disabled, to a great extent, for the discharge of its func- tions. He has, in his academic life, lost, not gained, tone and power, as a living man, whose office it is to exert, by elo- quent address, the most momentous of all influences on his fellow-men. The cold and powerless being who rises to ad- dress us from the pulpit, bears, not unfrequently, on his very frame, and in his voice and aspect, the traces of infirmity — not 108 PtILPIT ELOCtJTlON. of strength. His words fall lifeless on the ear : his sentimenta take no effect on the heart. The introduction of elocution into our means of education, would do much to obviate the impediments to effective speak- ing, under which professional men generally labour. The systematic practice of elocution, as an art, involves a health- ful preparatory training in muscular exercise and in the ener- getic, varied, and graceful forms of oratorical action. It pre- scribes an extensive course of daily practice in all the modes of voice which tend to invigorate and enliven the organs of respiration and of speech. It imparts the inspiring influence of eloquent emotion, in the themes with which it makes the student conversant. It incites his whole mental being to vivid and glowing activity. These invaluable results may all be secured, to a great ex- tent, by whatever individual has the requisite decision of pur- pose and perseverance in resolution, to commence and prosecute the business of self-cultivation. The theological student who feels the importance of elocution to the purposes of his pro- fession, will not shrink from the toil which a thorough reno- vation of habit demands for this purpose. His own progress will open to him, continually, new objects to be accomplished, — both as regards an intimate knowledge of his own corporeal structure, and a distinct perception of the nature of expression, in all its manifold relations to man. It will disclose to him more fully the sympathetic influences by which the heart is actuated, as well as those outward analogies and efiects which eloquence implies. He will allow himself the full benefits of a regenerating physical and aesthetic discipline, to compensate for the defects of formal education. He will resort to the in- structive lessons furnished by all the expressive arts. Mu- sic, in particular, he will cultivate, as one of the most effective and inspiring of all influences that operate on the human soul, as the best adapted to create the expressive mood and the glow of utterance.* He will omit no means of cherishing the * The exhibitions of dramatic art are, by far, the most instructive of all SERENIXr OF MANNER. 109 life and activity of imagination, — that faculty 'which, in our prevalent modes of culture, is left nearly dormant, but which, by its tendencies, decides the character of the orator, not less than of the poet ; the power of expression, in every man, be« ing as his ability to find a vehicle or a mould for his thought^ which must otherwise be * without form and void.' Elocution, in its details of exercise and of tuition, furnishes^ in ample abundance, to the diligent student, the means of ac- quiring and cherishing expressive power in voice and action. It enables him, by analysis, to detect the peculiar nature of every tone of feeling, — to trace the effect of life and warmth in every element, to sympathize with these, and to acquire them as habits of utterance and gesture. A few exercises^ attentively performed, will enable him to recognize the breath- ing warmth of a full-hearted utterance, the vivid force and fire of genuine emotion, the flash of the kindled eye, the sweep and energy of a gesture which springs from the inmost soul. SERENITY OF MANNER. The tendencies of constitution and habit, in some indivi- duals, incline them to speak, on all occasions, under a strong^ impulse of emotion ; so that their manner never possesses the dignity of repose. Speakers of this class seem to demand excitement, as a condition of eloquence, and, when interested in their subject, are apt to flash out abruptly into intensity of utterance and action : they do not possess the power of hold- ing emotion in check, and of rising equably, from the ordi- nary level of their subject to the higher strains of impassioned style: their delivery is consequently irregular, abrupt and unequal. The beautiful symmetry and perfect unity of man- ner, which tranquillity and self-possession impart, are want- schools of eloquence ; and it is much to be regretted that their usual ac- companiments, and the genei-al impression of society, debar any class of public speakers from resorting to them. 10 110 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ing in the delivery of such speakers ; and their effect on their hearers is correspondent : it resembles that of the fitful gleams of lightning between successive clouds, rather than the grow- ing brightness which ' shineth more and more unto the per- fect day.* When the flash and the peal are over, there re- mains ' but the cold pattering of rain.' A general composure and serenity of manner are by no means incompatible with the natural vicissitudes of emotion and expression. But abrupt changes are comparatively rare, in the natural progress of thought and feeling : they are the exceptions, — not the rule of speaking. Some preachers, however, whether from impulsive habit or incorrect ear, in- cline to sudden wrenchings of the voice and jerkings of the arm, which startle rather than impress an audience. Others destroy the repose and dignity of their manner by perpetual restlessness of body, and hacking reiteration of ges- ture : they seem to mistake excitement for earnestness, and mere animal vivacity for the inspiration of genuine emotion. A due restraint on personal tendencies, and a just reserve of manner, are the basis of all true effect ifi elocution. Mere liveliness of tone and action possesses, at the best, but the humble merit of the wakeful talker. It may, in fact, serve ta dissipate rather than to deepen impression. The appropriate effects, even of earnestness, vehemence, and fer- vour, are dependent on the relief which they derive from a prevalent repose. Arbitrary and abrupt variation disturbs the current of attention, on the part of the hearer. The equable speaker leaves the mind of the audience unruffled and calm, reflecting distinctly every thought which his elo- quence calls up : the abrupt speaker breaks and shivers every successive mental image, by the agitation attending his ab- ruptness of manner. The serene and tranquil effect of ap- propriate expression, as a characteristic habit, gives the preacher easy access to the mind, and enables him to hold up steadily before the attention the mental objects on which he would have his hearers dwell. There are, indeed, many subjects and many occasions on SERENITY OF MANNER. Ill which a quiet, unexcited utterance, breathes the genuine spirit of expressive eloquence. The themes of pulpit dis- course are not unfrequently of this character ; and, in the management of some, an unequal, irregular, and restless man- ner in the speaker, would jar upon the ear, with the disturb- ing effect of discord in music. The preacher may ever derive impressive lessons from the study of symmetry and harmony, as they reveal themselves in the beautiful and majestic forms and aspects of nature, and in the graceful proportions of every masterpiece of art. Different subjects require a difference of style in elocution, as in all other arts. But the prevalent mood and spirit of sacred eloquence, should be calmness and serenity. Force and fire of manner will then have their value, in their place. But the transition, even to such effects, is not necessarily violent or abrupt. A prevalent serenity of manner leaves the speaker at lib- erty so to modulate his voice and control his action, that his very transitions are felt to be as appropriate as they are striking ; while an agitated and hurried utterance, jerking in- cessantly into unnatural changes of pitch, and force, added, perhaps, to ceaseless motion and gesticulation, — destroys even the effect of variation itself, and ends in discomposing rather than impressing the mind. The manly composure of manner which properly belongs to all forms of public address, but especially to the style of the pulpit, is quite incompatible with a very common fault into which some preachers are habitually betrayed by ner- vous excitement. This fault evinces itself in an overstrained expression on the features, which is legible in the wrinkling or knitting of the brow, in the upraising of the eye-brows, and in the staring projection of the eye. Such effects are unavoidably associated, in the mind of those who are address- ed, with a feeling of pain or repulsion. Habitual serenity of mien and aspect, does not forbid the occasional expression of even the strongest emotion. But it cannot be reconciled with a continued stare or frown, which seems inconsistent with de- 112 PULPIT ELOCUTION. corum or self-possession. Offences of this description might all be easily put down by an occasional glance at a mirror, when the student is at practice. Without such recourse, or the admonition of a friend, the unconscious habit must con- tinue an obstacle to the speaker's success in attaining to per- suasive manner. TRUE AND NATURAL MANNER. Eloquence, in whatever form, and, most of all, in addresses from the pulpit, demands, as a condition of its effect, a con- viction, on the part of the hearer, of the peifect sincerity of the speaker. The slightest indication of artifice, or, even, of mere art, becomes an effectual barrier between the orator and his audience ; as it betrays the fact that he is not in earnest in his communication, or, at all events, that he is not ex- pressing himself with the directness and simplicity which a deep conviction of his sentiments ought to inspire. Artifice and affectation are utterly incompatible with the * simplicity and godly sincerity' which the Scriptures ascribe to the preacher. But the fact of having been accustomed, during the period of early training, to utter sentiment by rote, in the unmeaning and uninteresting routine of school declam- ation, has, in most instances, untuned the ear for the genuine effects of voice, and reconciled it to false intonation, just as it has misled the eye, and accustomed it to a mechanical and artificial style of gesture. The living effect of tone and nat- ural manner, is thus irrecoverably lost, and, with it, the speaker's power over the heart : his conventional tone, atti- tude, and action, all plainly indicate that it is the clergyman, not the individual, who is addressing us. The style, in such cases, is, at best, too obviously of that secondary gradation of art, which knows not how to ' conceal art.' We can trace the absence of single-minded purpose, in every speaker whose voice evidently assumes a new and fac- titious character, when he begins to read or speak in public ; TRUE AND NATURAL MANNER. 113 we feel the fact in the false hollowness and affected swell of utterance, which some preachers always assume in the pul- pit; we perceive it in their studied precision of enunciation, forced emphasis, mechanical inflection, chanting tone, and arbitrary variations of voice, and in their premeditated and elaborate motions of the arm. The whole machinery of ef- fect is thus, as it were, perpetually thrust on ear and eye, at the expense of the great business of the hour. It is impos- sible, under such circumstances, for the hearer to derive the proper impression from the subject, or to enter into sympathy with the speaker ; and it is well if the result of the whole discourse is not, unavoidably, a state of dissatisfaction and disgust with the manner of the preacher, rather than any just influence from his sentiments. Earnest and warm feeling will not allow the speaker to wait for niceties of elocution, in tlie act of speech. The preacher who feels that the decision of a soul may be hang- ing, for the moment, on the accents that fall from his lips, will not be found stopping to adjust his inflections, and mould his gestures. It is quite a false impression, which is eurrent regarding the practice of elocution, that it consists in acquir- ing certain fixed modes of voice, putting on a certain air, or practising set actions, which, after a given time, will become natural by habituation, but which must necessarily be awk- ward, at first. There is no such thing as speaking naturally by rule and study, applied during the aet of speech. All, then, must be left to the guidance of feeling and intuitive perception, and the influence of unconscious tendencies of taste, previously disciplined by critical and reflective judg- ment. True elocution allows no artificial processes of expression : it cuts off all false habit. The operation bears no analogy to that of the dentist, who extracts the natural implements and substitutes artificial ones. It is a process of retrenching acquired faults, and recovering original and natural tenden- cies, which had been lost, through neglect or misdirection. Elocution, as a science, enables the student to analyze, and 10* 114 PULPIT ELOCUTION. become familiar with, all the modifications of voice and ges- ture. It defines their nature and relations. It teaches him to discriminate, among them, and to select and apply those which natural emotion, in every instance, requires. It guards him against artificial effects of every kind, with as strict care as it does against other faults of manner. It rejects all spu- rious tones, as counterfeits oflfered instead of the current coin of the heart. It points out every tendency to dwell on sound rather than on sense and feeling. A false manner, in any particular, it denounces as the worst of all faults, — as an un- pardonable violation at once of manUness, truth, propriety, and taste. Elocution, however, insists, with equal earnestness, on the student's drawing a firm and decided line of distinction be- tween natural and acquired habit, as regards the local acci- dents of usage, and the general principles of expression. It allows no servile spirit of accommodation to some trick of custom which happens to prevail around the speaker. It re- quires peremptorily of the New England student, that he lay aside his unique nasal tones and circumflex accents, and fri- gid, diminutive action, — of the Southern student, that he lay aside his broad drawl, and mouthing tone, and exaggerated gesture. It demands of the man of education, everywhere, that he do not descend to the standard which uncultivated taste exemplifies and prescribes, but that he adopt a manner which shall bear the stamp of dignity and propriety, in en- lightened judgment, wherever exercised. Affectation of manner, though apparently originating in insincerity and art, is often the result of a perception of com- mon errors, and a desire to avoid them. It proceeds, some- times, from the wish to be correct or graceful. It is the nat- ural product of the prevalent neglect of manner and deport- ment, which characterizes our modes of education. The moulding influence of taste, if applied, as it ought to be, to the formation of habit, would anticipate and cut off this reac- tion of the mind against the consequences of early neglect. A sound judgment and a manly taste are the only possible TRUE AND NATURAL MANNER. 116 security against faults of affectation ; and the cultivation of these traits of mind ought to form a prominent part of intel- lectual training. The systematic study and practice of elo- cution, may do much to form and direct the mental tenden- cies, in regard to modes and habits of expression ; as the principles of the art involve a recognition of all the distinc- tive features of chaste and correct style, not merely in this but also in every other art which gives form to thought and feehng. Simplicity, as the grand characteristic of truth and nature, holds as high a place in elocution as in any other mode of ex- pressive art ; and directness of tone and emphasis it enjoins as the straight road to the heart : it forbids all attempts at ar- bitrary modulations of voice, — all merely mechanical varia- tions for effect. The simplest and the truest manner it holds up as the most eloquent and the most effective. The studied changes in which the speaker passes arbitrarily from soft to loud, from high to low, and the opposites to these, it condemns as false to the subject, and destructive to every effect of genu- ine and earnest address. A just view of elocution, while it would cherish every natu- ral trait of grace in utterance and action, would lead the stu- dent to avoid every trace of manner which indicates a distinct and separate attention to gracefulness. Every modification of the voice, and every movement of the arm, which is executed merely because it is graceful, is untrue to the higher demands of truth and manly energy. It is something deducted from the weight of a sentiment and its power over the mind and heart. It can be compared only to the juvenile messenger's loitering by the wayside, to pluck flowers, when urgent busi- ness demands speed. All true grace is inherent in the sentiment which the speaker utters. It is not a thing which he can superadd in tone or action. It requires no attention, apart from that which is due to the thought and the language of the composition. To lin- ger on poetic tones, and to delay for studied graces of action, on occasions demanding earnest and direct speech, betrays an 116 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Utter ignorance of the first principles of expression. Beauty itself must, in such circumstances, lose its character, and be- come deformity. A single gratuitous flourish of voice or hand, seals the doom of the speaker, as to any effect on intelligent and cultivated minds. The only effect of such obtrusions of manner, is to lower the hearer's estimation of the speaker, and to mar the impression made by his subject. REFINEMENT AND GEACEEULNESS. Elocution, as an art, while it rejects all spurious beauty of ornament in manner, as a hinderance to effect, cherishes a just regard for that refinement which is the natural accompani- ment of a cultivated taste. Education is ineffectual, if it does not extend to the whole mental character. Classical learning has fallen short of its design, if it has not left its graceful im- press on the imagination, and moulded the expressive powers into habits of symmetrical and harmonious action. Its office, in the formation of the intellectual character, is to quicken the sensibility to beauty and elegance, by the admirable perfection of the models which it presents for imitation, and which ought to exert a silent but enduring influence on the associations and tendencies of the mind. Society has a right to demand, in the educated speaker, the fruits of the highest culture, and, among these, a true elegance and a genuine refinement of manner. The educated clergy- man owes to society the results of scholarship, imbodied in an oratory which is, at least, correct and graceful. There are, no doubt, qualities and accomplishments which are of vastly higher value than mere gracefulness of elocution. No degree of elegance can atone for the absence of natural, manly, fi'ee, and appropriate manner. But if there is any form of elo- quence which naturally and justly invests itself with the asso- ciations and the language of the highest beauty, it is that of the pulpit. The wonted themes of sacred oratory, are them- selves the highest species of poetry ; and the preacher who REFINEMENT AND GRACEFULNESS. 117 does not cause this truth to be felt, loses his hold of one of the most powerful influences on the human soul. The transcend- ent beauty of the language of the Scriptures, seems to haunt the ear of all men, as a charm equally powerful in all stages of life, from childhood to old age ; and the preacher who drinks deepest at the sacred fount, will ever be found the most eloquent in expression ; — his whole manner will evince the influence of the discipline of that school in which he has trained himself. Nothingcan.be further from the accustomed associations of every mind, than the remotest idea of anything odd, blun- dering, awkward, or coarse, in the language of the sacred writers. The principle which causes us to revolt from such effects in the style and manner of the preacher, is of the same nature : it is the shrinking of the mind from the thought of desecration. Yet how often are our pulpits occupied by mea on whom all the beauties of nature, of art, and even of re- vealed truth, seem to have fallen without one perceptible ef- fect on the soul, and who apparently address themselves to the delivery of a sermon, in the spirit of a labourer setting about a coarse job of work ! How often we hear from the pulpit the tones of the lowest passions and of the vilest associations, the coarse bawling of utter rudeness, or the harsh guttural sounds of the ' malignant emotions,' which cause the voice of man to approach that of the lower animals ! How frequently we hear the pulpit, which should be looked up to, as the model of intellectual re- finement and of true culture, degraded by an utterance which, in the very pronunciation of words, bespeaks the ascendancy of low association sin the personal habits of the speaker ! The elocution of the pulpit should, in the simplicity and chastened dignity of its inflection, and in the well attempered moderation of its tones, furnish lessons of true eloquence to every other form of address. The impression is utterly false, that the way to bring religion home to ' the business and bosoms' of men, is to discourse in the dialect of the market-place, and 118 PULPIT ELOCUTION. use tlie tones and gesture of the street. Lessons of directness and earnestness, may, it is true, be gathered from these. But the literal transference of them to the pulpit, can be suggested only by a taste which relishes what is low, and a judgment utterly blind to the fitness of things. The preacher's office is not to bring down his subject to the level of his hearers, but to assist them in rising to that of his subject. Neither is the rudest mind at all insensible to the becoming grace of refine- ment, as the natural attendant of eloquence, on themes which are sacred and spiritual in their relations. FALSE TASTE, ARTIEICIAL STYLE. But while a coarse and low style of address, is revolting to every one's natural sense of propriety, the manner which be- trays artificial and studied elegance, seems to solicit attention to the speaker rather than to his subject. All merely arbi- trary and conventional forms of grace, seem ridiculous, when brought into contact with those vast conceptions of the soul to which it is the j)reacher's business to give utterance. The speaker who adopts them, incurs all the degradation of * vol- untary humiliation,' and * worshipping the angels' of vitiated custom, — a thing directly opposite to the idea of the service of God. The world justly shrinks from the preacher who, in the de- livery of his discourse, serves up some choice delicacy of fini- cal manner, some fantasy of ultra pronunciation, some ele- gance of mere elocution, when he ought to be dealing out the bread of life. A mincing, afi'ected manner, in the tone or action of a preacher, can excite only the feeling of deep dis- gust. Nor can the prevalence of coarseness or awkwardness in others, form any plea for the individual who betrays an artificial and affected manner, which pleases only his own fancy, but disgusts the taste of every body else. The coarse and vehement speaker may justly claim that we pardon some- THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF A DISCOURSE. 119 thing to his earnestness and rough force. But the affected speaker can do nothing to redeem the littleness to which he voluntarily descends. A spurious elegance of manner, it is true, is, not unfre- quently, the result of false notions of grace, and of a mis- guided desire to obey the indications of taste. It is not al- ways an intentional fault : it is contracted, perhaps, from the unconscious imitation of an esteemed model : it is a vice in- culcated, in many instances, by false instruction. But, from whatever source it springs, its effect on delivery is that of in- sincerity and artifice, or of display : it is not merely an obstacle but a positive nuisance. No matter how studiously it aims at grace, it proves but laboured deformity. The only effectual corrective for false taste in elocution, consists .in the attentive study of genuine beauty, as it ira- bodies itself in the simple forms of nature and of true art. Perfect simplicity is perfect grace. Elegance, if it would not degenerate into fantasy, must not deviate from simplicity. The highest ornaments of eloquence, are the truest touches of nature, in utterance and action. Elocution, as the art which moulds the exterior of eloquence, necessarily recognizes and obeys the laws which regulate the higher art to which it is tributary. The best elocution, therefore, is that which pre- serves a perfectly simple and natural manner. ADAPTATION OF MANNER TO THE DIFFERENT PARTS" OF A DISCOURSE. One of the common results of defective early instruction in reading, is the habit of uttering all the portions of a discourse, — particularly when it is read and not spoken, — in nearly the same tone ; and along with this fault usually goes that of using, throughout, the same style and form of action. Appropriate manner would, on the contrary, exhibit an obvious change of voice, in passing from the explanatory and quiet utterance of the opening paragraphs to the argument and illustration by 120 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ^ T "which the subject is exhibited and sustained, and a still more impressive variation of tone, in the closing application, or di- rect address, which appeals immediately to the feelings of the audience. The whole discourse, (if constructed on the plan now implied,) would exhibit a progressive force of voice, from the quiet to the earnest, and thence to the vivid, effects of ut- terance. Appropriate elocution thus renders the reading of a sermon one continuous climax of effect to the ear, by which the hearer becomes more and more deeply interested or forci- bly impressed, till the close. A similar remark would apply to the proper style of action in the successive parts of a discourse. The merely explana- tory statements addressed to the understanding, would pro- duce little or no gesture, the argumentative and descriptive passages would elicit a growing freedom and force of action, as the speaker's own feelings and those of his hearers became more deeply interested in the train of thought and the attend- ant emotions, developed in the progress of the discourse ; and, in the concluding address, the full eloquence of earnest and impressive gesture, would naturally be brought out by the heightened interest of the speaker's mind in his subject and his audience. The whole man would now be alive with the spirit of expressive utterance : the hand would render its full tribute of aid to tongue and eye, in stamping the impress of the speaker's soul on the sympathies of his hearers. All sermons, it is true, do not admit of a regular and system- atic progression of effect like what has just been described. But the consequence of speaking, for an hour, on one subject, ought naturally to be that of drawing out more and more of the natural resources of eloquence, which continuous thought should always have the power to develope. There ought, perhaps, to be more regard paid, in rhetorical training, to such modes of treating subjects as would insure the eloquence of progressive effect. The lawyer w^io arranges his pleading so as to bring out his arguments in successive stages of accumu- lating force, and the player who never willingly leaves the stage without a strong effect of voice or action, might afford MANNER IN DEVOTION. 121 an instructive lesson to the preacher ; for it is now too often the fact that his last point would weigh no more than his first, and that, at the very close of his discourse, he seems to have made no progress, reached no conclusion, gained no position, by what he has read or spoken. The lawyer who should so wind up his pleading, or the player who should thus tamely go off the stage, would be justly deemed to have made an ut- ter failure in his part. The professional phrase which one barrister sometimes uses, when speaking of the professional efforts of another, that 'his learned brother took nothing by his motion,' would very often apply most justly to the vague and immethodical, and consequently ineffective speaker in the pulpit. The principle of climax, or growing force and effect, should be distinctly perceptible not only in the successive stages of a discourse, but in every paragraph and in every sentence which it contains. The preacher's voice and whole manner should perpetually indicate, in progressive intensity, that he is consciously drawing nearer and nearer to the con- summation of his train of associated thought and feeling. The aim of the preacher's mind, as indicated in the increasing earnestness of his manner, should, during every successive paragraph of his discourse, be growing clearer and more im- pressive to his audience, till his object is fully effected, at the close. 1 MANNER IN DEVOTION. The prevalent inattention, in our community, to the effects of manner and address, are in nothing more perceptible than in the customary tones and attitudes of the devotional exer- cises in public worship. Some preachers cannot, even in such circumstances, abstain from an irregular and revolting violence of voice : their earnestness seems to know no con- troUing power of reverence and decency : their impassioned vehemence of manner seems to recognize no difference be- ll 122 PULPIT ELOCUTION. tween the tones which might justly be used in importuning a fellow-being, and those which are appropriate in entreaty ad- dressed to God. It is no unusual thing to hear a whole prayer thundered out, in the accents of imperious command. What a lesson might such speakers learn of the docile and respectful child, that proffers its request in subdued though earnest tones ! The child, wiser instinctively than the man, is aware that, in such cases, violence shuts, but does not open, the heart. It adopts, therefore, the irresistible eloquence taught it by nature, and urges its request in pleading tones, piercing by their very suppression : and its suit is, in such circumstances, seldom refused. Some preachers adopt the opposite extreme of voice, and uniformly employ a high, feeble whine, in their devotional utterance ; as if an audience with God were a scene of servile humiliation and abject timidity ; as if the act of communing with the Father of spirits were a powerless prostration of the soul, and an occasion of mere wailing and lamentation. The appropriate fervour and sublimity of devotion, which, not less than humility and self-abasement, are its just characteristics, are thus entirely lost sight of ; and the effect of the whole ex- ercise, is to impress upon the mind the meanness of man, rather than the grandeur and majesty of God. A voice moulded by appropriate emotion, would impart to the tones of prayer a degree of the manifold power which characterizes the grandest of all the instruments of music, — that which we term emphatically the organ, and which from its majestic compass and effect, we consecrate to the office of worship. The deep, full, and solemn strains of adoration, would then pour themselves forth on the ear, with a strength but softness of effect aUied to the deep tones of the wind when breathing low, through the forest, or with something of their ample swell, when raising the sublime hymn of nature to the power and glory of the Creator. The pleading and pathetic voice of penitence would be recognized by its plaintive notes. The low murmur and broken whisperings of contrition, the earnest and thrilling intensity of the soul's aspiration after MANNER IN DEVOTION. 123 pardon, purity and peace, the fervent breathings of heartfelt gratitude, the rapture of devout joy, would all, in turn, be felt, as they rose or fell upon the ear, in the successive outpourings of the heart. The inexpressive, level, mechanical, 'recitative' strain, which is so often heard in the utterance of the language of de- votion, is the most efficacious of all means of quenching the spirit of the exercise, and reducing worship to a hollow cere- mony. Vividness and fervour of feeling are, in no respect, incom- patible with the softened tones of subdued and reverential emotion. The chastened expression of earnestness is the most eloquent of all the moods of the human voice : suppressed intensity of tone penetrates the heart more deeply than the strongest utterance. The study of the natural language of ex- pression, with a view to the discrimination of vocal effects, and the acquisition of true and natural modulation, cannot be too earnestly urged on the student of theology. The voice is the instrument of his usefulness ; and surely the ability to use it justly, to use it skilfully and impressively, well deserves the most assiduous application of his powers. The measure of devotional feeling, in an assembly, must ever be in accord- ance with the depth and fulness of heart imparted by the tones of the minister. The cold and dry manner in which the ex- ercise of devotion is often conducted, sufficiently accounts for the sHght sympathy which it excites. Yet it would demand no great amount of time, from the minister, to acquire the power of giving true and effectual utterance to his inward feelings, and of bringing his congregation into accordant sym- pathy. The existing evil consists obviously in the habit of unmeaning and inexpressive tone on his part, — a habit which neglect or perversion has allowed to become a portion of his self-education, but which a moderate degree of study and ap- plication would enable him to correct. The attitudes into which the pastor suffers himself to fall, in the act of devotion, are not unfrequently a cause of inhar- monious and discordant impression on the feelings of his peo- lS4t PULPIT ELOCUTION. pie. His lounging posture, his sleepily folded hands, his hanging head, added to his drowsy voice, may all interfere with the spiritual tendency of the exercise, by causing the natural law of sympathy with given signs and effects, to trans- cend the speaker's power of raising and exalting the soul ; so that a pervading dulness and apathy, instead of a vivid emo- tion, shall be the predominating mood of the audience. The error, however, lies, in some cases, at the opposite ex- treme : the mere ardour of the speaker is suffered to carry him into vehement contortions of body, and, sometimes, even into violent gestures, in the act of prayer. A most impressive rebuke to this animal turbulence, might be derived from the touching Scripture representation of the seraphim, in the act of adoration, veiling their faces with their wings. The still- ness of awe is one of the most obvious traits of tendency in expression. The submissive mien of reverence ; the erect attitude of praise, the uplifted hands of gratitude, blessing, adoration, joy, and ardent aspiration ; the humbled posture of penitence and contrition ; the clasped hands of supplication and entreaty ; the folded hands of resignation and submission ; the imploring outstretched arms ; — all speak a natural lan- guage, and have their meaning in the heart of man. Devo- tion, destitute of these, may be pronounced decorous, and chaste, and well-bred ; but it is false to the great law of the Creator, that man's soul should find a language in his frame. PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION The preceding brief remarks on manner, were designed to lead the reader to the study and practice of the prominent rules and principles of elocution. These will be found laid down, in detail, in the two volumes formerly mentioned, — the manual of Orthophony and the American Elocutionist, — the former designed to furnish the modes and means of culti- vating the voice, on the system of Dr. James Rush ; and the latter, the rules and principles of elocution, in connection with orthoepy, rhetoric, and prosody, and the practice of gesture. To these works, therefore, the reader is referred for the full systematic study of elocution, as a science, and as an art. The design of the following synopsis, is to present those principles of elocution, which are immediately applicable to the purposes of the pulpit. Persons who had not paid atten- tion, previously, to the art of reading, will thus be furnished with an outline of its most useful parts ; and those who have become versed in its theory, will be provided with a special course of practice for professional purposes. THE CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. Capability. The voice, like every other endowment or capacity of man, is a gift which bespeaks, at once, the power, the wisdom, and the beneficence of the Creator. It is an organ of wondrous power, of exquisite flexibility, of vast compass, of the most extensive range, of inexhaustible expression. Its capability 11* 126 PULPIT ELOCUTION. of intense force is such as to render it clearly audible, at a distance, on some occasions, of several miles.* It is capable, also, of executing the ' sound so fine, that nothing lives 'twixt it and silence.' It traverses, with ease, from notes allied, in depth, to the mutterings of distant thunder, up to those which pierce the ear with the shrillness of the horn. Its mellow tones, its softened breathings, and gentle undulations, are the charm of power to melt the heart to love : its yell of rage Btrikes terror into the fiercest of the brutes. Its plaintive waihngs cause the arm of the warrior to fall powerless : its rousing and thrilling tone of courage, impels ' the mass of living valour' to the cannon's mouth. Its moral and spiritual effect varies from the soul-subduing reverence of the strain of devotion, to the revolting violence of the curse of vindictive •wrath. It passes, in a moment, perhaps, from the whisper of fear to the shriek of terror, or from the groan of despair to the ecstatic shout of joy. The natural powers, and capacities of the voice, are scarce- ly more wonderful than its susceptibility of cultivation by the processes of human art. It becomes, even in the humble cul- ture which it receives, under the training of maternal care, capable of executing all the varied functions of speech, which are demanded by the daily communications of life. It attains, thus, to the power of giving utterance to every form of thought or mood of feeling, as prompting the language of seriousness and gravity, or of fancy, humour, and wit. The convention- al forms of speech, imbodied in articulate utterance, enable it, to a certain extent, to keep up with the innumerable and ever shifting movements of the mind. The systematic and regulated culture which the voice re- ceives, under adequate training, empowers the orator to sway the minds of men, at will, by the consummate mastery of elo- * The literal exactness of the above statement, can probably be avouched, as having been personally verified by other elocutionists as well as the author. Strong and clear voices, exerted in the form of a well-vocalized or perfectly musical call, may be easily heard, at a dis- tance of from one to three miles, over water, or other level surfaces. CULTIVATION OP THE VOICE. — CAPABILITY. 127 quence. It enables the actor to enchain the attention, and entrance the imagination and feelings of his fellow-men, in a mental illusion which, for the moment, catches the very hue of reality. Such is man's vocal progress, from the helpless wailings of his infancy, to the triumphs which artistic genius enables him to achieve by the disciplined utterance of his maturity. That wisdom of the ancient world, which was derived from the faithful observation of nature, led to the assiduous culti- vation of the vocal powers. The Greeks considered elocu- tion as a part of the proper education of man as an expressive being ; but they regarded it as an indispensable preparation for the functions of the orator. The Athenian mode of dis- cipline for the formation of the voice, was so extensive as to comprehend a range of practice requiring the professional su- perintendence of three different classes of instructors, enu- merated, by Roman writers, under the designations of ^pho- TKJLSciy ' vociferariij and ' vocalesJ The office of the first- named class, seems to have been that of moulding the voice as to * quality,' — the effect of vocal sound, as true, full, and agreeable, or otherwise, — that of the second, to impart force and compass by rigorous practical training in set exercises, — that of the third, to regulate the vocal habits in regard to in- tonation and inflection. To the effect of this strictly vocal discipline was added that of special athletic and gymnastic exercises, which were likewise arranged and classified in sep- arate schools, established for the purpose of securing health and vigour, each by a form of muscular practice peculiar to itself. Five such schools have been distinctly enumerated by writers curious on such subjects ; and to all of these it was deemed the duty of the rhetorician to recommend his pupils. The slight regard paid, in modern times, to the develop- ment, either of the physical or the expressive powers of the human being, disposes us to look with an eye of suspicion and distrust, equally, on the athletic and the rhetorical dis- cipline adopted by the ancient Greeks. We are prone to 12S PULPIT ELOCUTION. ascribe the one to their passionate love of external beauty, and the other to their fastidious regard to intellectual grace and polish : we condemn the whole process of their culture, as artificial and fantastic ; or we refer their rigour of prepar- atory training to the necessity of the case, in the fact that their orators were accustomed to speak in the open air, and hence required a species of voice as little applicable to our purposes of speech, as would be that of a pubUc crier. The stern character of Demosthenes, — the most diligent and indefatigable in training, of all the orators of antiquity, — forbids, (as was mentioned before,) the very idea of his sub- mitting to a discipline artificial or fanciful in its prescriptions ; and Cicero himself has borne eloquent testimony to the value of the vocal training to which he subjected himself, when in Greece. The cultivation of the voice is required on grounds quite distinct from those of anticipated professional duties. The vocal muscles and the nerves of expression, (the great instru* ments of utterance,) are not only susceptible of cultivation to an equal degree with the other portions of the muscular and nervous systems of the human body, but to a much higher. — The spiritual vividness of their action, — so important to their power of rendering instant obedience to the ever-varying requisitions of the mind, — renders these portions of the hu- man frame the most plastic and the most docile of all. There is no form of muscular or of nervous action in which so en- tire a revolution can be speedily eflfected, as that which is ex- emplified in the production of vocal sound. A few weeks' daily practice are, usually, sufficient to produce an utter change of circumstances, as regards the ability to execute the prominent effects of voice, in ' force' and * pitch,' — the main characteristics of utterance, in impressive speaking. The whole style of voice, as to ' quality,' is often changed from bad to good, within as short a period. CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. — NEGLECT. 129 Neglect of Vocal Cultur e. Our established modes of education, were they adequate to the purpose of a thorough cultivation of the various powers and capacities of man, would furnish ample provision for the development of the organ of voice, as the exponent of heart and mind, the connecting link of man's mental and social be- ing. No exertion would then be spared by which it could be rendered vigorous, pliant, expressive, and, at the same time, agreeable to the ear, by its natural and appropriate music, as a portion and a most effective one, of the great system of uni- versal harmony, which reigns among the works of God. The prevalent neglect of this divine instrument, designed to contribute its share to the symmetry and the grace, as well as to the immediate uses, of life, not only leaves many even of those whose professional duties render an agreeable and skilful use of it indispensable, disqualified for their proper oc- cupation, by inability to exert it aright, but subjects them to pain and suffering and exhaustion, and consequent loss of health, or even, ultimately, of life, from unskilful and inap- propriate modes of exerting the voice; and, as not unfre- quently happens to speakers of this description, it renders, from the same causes, their whole utterance disagreeable and even painful to others. Elocutionists, often have occasion, in their professional ca- pacity, to see instances of the noblest powers of mind ren- dered unavailing for the purposes of public speaking, by neglected habit, or erroneous cultivation, in early life. A lit- tle daily attention to the subject, would have easily secured, in season, a clear, agreeable, melodious tone to many speakers who now habitually exert their organs in such a manner as to thwart the purposes of speaking, and even to produce pain or disgust in the hearer. Persuasion must ever be up-hill work, where a harsh and grating effect of voice is incessantly jarring the nerves, and undoing the harmonious effect of sentiment. The preacher, more than any other speaker, needs all available aids of culture, in the use of the voice. His duties, — 130 PULPIT ELOCUTION. as was mentioned before, — ^i-equire that he spend a large part of every day in strictly sedentary and intellectual occupation, —-a condition extremely unfavourable to the free and ener- getic use of the organs of speech. Close study constrains the body, checks the circulation, impedes equally the functions of respiration and digestion, and is necessarily followed by lan- guor and weakness. A strong, full, and smooth voice, must, to one subjected daily to such experience, be the result of a rare original force of constitution and vivacity of function, which unfriendly influences have not had the power to im- pair. Rigorous application of mind is injurious to the charac- ter of the voice ; as, by impairing, through impeded and im- perfect respiration, the vigour of the larynx, the glottis, and the vocal ligaments, as well as the bronchial tubes and the air-cells of the lungs, it generates what musicians designate as 'impure tone,' — that imperfectly vocalized sound, which be- speaks a mode of forming the voice more or less painful and exhausting, as well as disagreeable to the ear. Frequent ac- cess to the open air, an habitually cheerful mood, and the ge- nial influence of social feeling, are all essential to the free and agreeable exercise of the voice. The physiologist can very easily account for the feeble, thin, hollow, dry, unmusical voices which are so often heard in our pulpits. Remedies for Defective Culture. The preacher, more than any other public speaker, requires the physical and mental influences of muscular exercise, recre- ation, repose, change of scene and occupation, vocal practice in singing, reciting, declaiming, reading, and whatever else tends to exhilarate the spirits, promote health, or impart power to the voice.* He should possess a perfect knowledge of the structure of the human frame, that he may use his vocal or- gans intelligently and effectively, spare himself fatigue and * The volume entitled Orthophony, or Vocal Culture in Elocution, contains directions, in detail, for the appropriate discipline of the organs of voice. CULTIVATION OP THE VOICE. — REMEDIES. 131 pain and injury, and be able to sustain long and vigorously the exercise of the voice in public speaking. Due practice soon renders an hour's reading or speaking an invigorating and inspiring rather than an exhausting process. The true and skilful use of the voice, in these forms of action, is similar, in effect, to the easy and pleasurable practice of an hour's singing. A well vocalized tone is, in any case, the same thing in its nature and formation, and consequently in its effects, both on the vocal organs of him who produces it, and on the ear of those who hear it : its character is that of a sound pure, easy, and agreeable, even in its utmost energy. The prevalent opinion, that the study and practice of elo- cution lead to the formation of an artificial style of voice, is founded on one of those false impressions which ignorance and indolence are so prone to foster as pleas for error and defect. The elocutionist would say to the student, Select, for study, the most natural, smooth, and pleasing voice that you hear in others, and observe its peculiar properties ; — select the cor- responding tones in your own : cultivate these, and cherish them into habits : watch the sound of the human voice as it is affected by ennobling and bland emotions, by courage, joy, love, admiration, tranquillity ; — dwell on such tones till your ear has acquired a relish and a thirst for them : your voice will then become instinctively genial, as a matter of predilec- tion and tendency. No one whose ear is unperverted, utters a joyous emotion in a hollow, sepulchral tone, which habit seems to have fixed irretrievably on some speakers in the pulpit : no one naturally utters the warm and tender notes of love or ad- miration, in the cold and hard voice which so often falls from the mouth of the preacher : the language of a serene and tranquil spirit cannot be uttered in the harsh and hacking ac- cents of a controversial dispute ; — the calm expanse of the ocean or the heavens, and the quiet flow of the stream, sug- gest a very different lesson to the discerning ear, and prompt the voice to the placid, smooth, and full yet gentle sounds of entire repose. Elocution enjoins on the preacher no false depth or artificial 132 PULPIT ELOCtJTiOlC. hollowness of voice. It reminds him only of the natural effect of solemnity, awe, and reverence, in at once deepening and enlarging and gently filling every vocal sound, and converting it to a natural and perfect unison with all those tones of ma- jesty and grandeur, which nature is ever breathing into the ear of man, from ocean and river and forest, from the tempest and the thunder; and which flow from the noblest of all the in- struments of music. The practice of elocution leads the min- ister, in his acts of devotion, to attune his utterance to the great laws which the Creator has written on the human ear. It forbids him to belittle and degrade a solemn and sacred act by the high, light, and trivial effect of a pitch appropriate only to what is trite and familiar and insignificant. It enables him to select, from the natural range of his own voice, those notes which even the intuitive perceptions of childhood recognize as intimations of the overshadowing presence of a great thought, or as the swell of a vast emotion, rising from the heart to the lips. Effects of due Cultivation, The cultivation of elocution will enable the preacher to dis- criminate, with perfect precision, and to execute, with natural freedom, all the varying modes of voice, as they come and go in successive utterance. His expression will be adapted to each, in all its fulness and peculiarity of effect. His whole mode of voice will be inspired with life and truth and power. The native dignity of man, stamped on the noble and eloquent accents which assign him his rank in the creation, will be au- dible in every word that falls from his lips. It would be impossible for an individual whose ear was once opened to discriminate the quality and character of sound, to give forth those muttering and grumbling effects of voice, those guttural and croaking notes, those snuffling, nasal, and wiry twangings, those barking explosions of unmitigated abruptness, those * softly sweet,' effeminate mincings, by which the pulpit is so often degraded. To man regarded as an intelligent and gregarious animal CULTIVATION OF THE TOICE. EFFECTS. ISS merely, there is something attractive and interesting in the very sound of the human voice. The awful desolation of ut- ter solitude is never more impressively felt than when the forlorn being becomes fully conscious of his forsaken condi- tion, by the oppressive weight of unbroken silence. Thi» truth the poet Cowper has imaged most strikingly in his sup-^ posed soliloquy of Selkirk, when he represents him as deplor- ing the doom which condemns him never more to ' hear the sweet music of speech.' The attainments of distinguished vocalists serve to show what, in corresponding degree, might be effected by the du© cultivation of the voice, for the various purposes of reading, recitation, and speaking. Not that a merely artificial culture can ever be desirable, either for the useful purposes of speech, or the tasteful enjoyment of elocution. But let us select, from the private circle, the example of voice which best pleases the ear, and most vividly affects our sympathy, whether in the appropriate and impressive reading of a page of literature, or in the freer and simpler form of intelligent conversation in the social circle, and affectionate communica- tion by the fireside. Let us select the public speaker whose voice perfectly true, easy, natural, chaste, yet vivid and im- pressive, seems to spring directly from the heart of the man, and to dwell equally on the ear and in the heart of his hear- ers, as a perfect imbodying of the whole soul whence it sprung. Let the instance be one in which the human organ is felt to be no unworthy channel of the messages of peace and love from on high : let it even be one in which the beau- ty of perfect excellence seems realized ; so that, — as some- times happens, even in our own day, — ' a world lying in wickedness' is induced to listen to the prophet, as to ' one that playeth skilfully on an instrument,' and to sit, for a time, rapt in admiration of the music of his voice. Let the sup- posed example be carried even so high, it will still be, in most cases, but a specimen of what intuitive observation and undisciplined skill may accomplish. — Suppose, on the other hand, an individual trained under advantages no more than 12 134 PULPIT ELOCUTION. equal to those which every vocal musician confers upon him- self, who allows himself the customary opportunities of sys- tematic and scientific cultivation for successive years. What might not a speaker so trained accomplish, with the genius, especially, which insures distinction in other pursuits, and with a soul absorbed in the spirit of his vocation ? Training to such extent, (thanks to the philosophic spirit and enthusiastic application of the great American analyst, Dr. James Rush !)* has now become a thing easily practica- ble to the spirit of diligence and perseverance. The means of attaining to high excellence, — to comparative perfection, — are now offered to every student of elocution, and exhibited with a perspicuity, precision, and certainty, which leave no excuse for skepticism or ignorance. Effects of Cultivation on the ' Quality*'\ of the Voice. The student who will faithfully apply his powers to the mastering of Dr. Rush's system, will be enabled so to use his voice that every truth which he utters, every emotion which he endeavours to impart, will be carried home to the minds and hearts of his hearers, ' clothed in fitting sound.' Every mode of vocality which is essential to expression, will be fully at his command. We shall hear, in his utterance, an entire exemption from all those vulgarisms .of voice which degrade the pulpit, when uttered within its precincts : we shall recog- nize, in his tones, the perfect ' purity' J and subdued manner, * See his Philosophy of the Human Voice, passim. t The effect prodace don the ear by the mere sound of the voice, as agreeable or otherwise. Thus, we recognize one voice as harsh, another as smooth ; one as thin, another as full. X Wliat the musician denominates ' pure tone,' or ' head tone,' — from its resonance in the head, — is nothing else than that perfectly liquid qual- ity of voice, which is its natural perfection, — as is evinced in the untu- tored utterance of early childhood, — and which corresponds to the sound of a flute, when played on by a skilful performer, in contrast with the mere learner, whose manner is recognized in consequence of its harsh and hissing sound. CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. ARTICULATION. 135 which pathos, tranquillity, and solemnity impart ; — the ample and noble effect of grandeur and sublimity, in the appropriate style of a voice trained to roundness, smoothness, and fulness* the characteristic qualities demanded by the larger dimen- sions of space, and the stronger incitement of feeling, in pub- lic speaking, as it differs from private conversation.* Articulation. The well-trained speaker will be distinguished, moreover, by the perfect exactness yet perfect ease of his articulation, and even by its brilliancy of effect and positive beauty of sound, in consequence of the exact adjustment and free play of the organs of speech, in every function which they perform, and in every sound which they execute. A distinct and perfect enunciation is of the utmost service to the public reader or speaker ; as it not only secures to him the indispensable condition of intelligible communication, and gives an intellectual clearness and finish to his style of expression, but, by the definite and precise character which it imparts to every sound of his voice, it enables him to dis- pense with that mere loudness which would otherwise exhaust his own strength, and annoy the ears of his audience. Pure tone and distinct articulation enable a speaker of comparative- ly limited vocal power to convey his words, with perfect ease, through a large extent of space. The result is similar to that which attends the performance of the softest strains of vocal music, by a skilful singer : the ear loses neither his notes nor his syllables ; as he delivers every tone with perfect clearness and purity of sound, and every letter with exact though deli- cate execution, in its articulation. The faulty character of early education, however, in very * The perfect voice of the accomplished elocutionist, Dr. Rush has designated by the introduction of a new but expressive term, — ' orotund,' — ^in allusion not only to the rotundity of its sound, but, also, the actual position of the interior and back part of the mouth, by which it is pro- duced. 136 PULPIT ELOCUTION. many instances, leaves the professional speaker quite defi- cient in correct habit as to enunciation. Not a few preach- ers are, in this respect, inaccurate and remiss, to an extent which hinders their usefulness, and degrades their address. The same remark applies to the habitual accent and pro- nunciation of many speakers in the pulpit, who, instead of exhibiting the appropriate refinement of good education, de- Bcend to the style of vulgar negligence and slovenliness. The discipline of the vocal organs which is prescribed by the art of elocution, wliile it would guard the speaker against all such faults, would save him from the opposite ones of fini- cal nicety and affectation.* Force and ' Stress.* The cultivated speaker will be felt, in his power of produ- cing, on the requisite occasions, any effect of force and vol- ume of voice, — from the approach to whispering, which ex- treme earnestness produces, to the full body of tone thrown out in warm and powerful exclamations, resembling, perhaps, the style even of a hearty shout or piercing call. The thor- ough-going cultivation of the voice will impart to every word uttered by the speaker its peculiar modification of force, as regards the characteristic commencement and termination of sounds expressive of emotion.f His tones of command will be marked by the boldness and decision with which the ac- cented sound of every emphatic word commences,^ — his tones of entreaty by sounds commencing softly, but swelling out earnestly, and afterwards diminishing :§ his utterance in the mood of stern and determined resolve, will be marked, on the * An extensive course of practice in orthoepy, is contained in the American Elocutionist. t The modes of force above referred to, are termed, by Dr. Rush, the '•tress,' (the maximum, or sometimes, the ictus,) of the voice, in a given •ound ; as in the gentle ' swell' o^ pity, ox the abrupt ' explosion' oi anger. X ' RadicaP (initial) ' Stress.^ ^ ' Median Stress, — force attaining its maximum at the middle of a sound. CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. PITCH. 137 contrary, by the abrupt explosive termination of characteris- tic sounds ;* and his tones of surprise will exhibit the pe- culiar intensity of this emotion in its characteristic tendency to mark, with special force, both the opening and the closing of emphatic sounds :t his exclamations of impassioned excite- ment will be distinguished not merely by vague and general loudness, or by an ordinary swell of voice, but by a well- marked and highly characterized utterance which lays an ob- vious stress on the beginning, the middle, and the end of ev- ery emphatic sound. | It is thus that the language of emo- tion is rendered intelligible by nature's distinct alphabet of sound being preserved specifically to heart and ear, while the unpractised speaker, whose voice has not been disciplined on these distinctions, utters his words with the ' uncertain sound* of the trumpet unskilfully blown, — at which ' no man armeth himself for the battle.' Pitch. The discipline of the voice imparts to the practised speaker an indescribable power over the feelings of his audience, not merely by his command over every mood and form of force by which the soul may be roused or tranquillized, impelled or subdued, but not less by the range which it gives to his voice over all the keys of expressive utterance, as high or low-pitched, lively or grave, gay or sombre, brisk or solemn. The unpractised reader or speaker has but little compass of utterance, and clings to the same unvaried notes. The dis- cipHned voice traverses, with the utmost facility, and with electric effect, from pole to pole of the scale of expressive tones, touches every point with perfect precision and definite meaning, and throws out, at pleasure, the most impressive ef- fects of contrast, whenever the sudden shifting of the current * ' Vanishing^ (final) ' Stress.^ t ' Compound Stress' — combining the effects of both ' Radical' and ' Vanishing' ' Stress.' J ' Tlvorough! (pervading) ' Stress J 12* 138 PULPIT ELOCUTION. of language and emotion, requires a marked transition of vo- cal effect. It is such reading only which can present the tones of the heart, in the language of the Psalmist, as he passes from the lowest depths of despondency and remorse, to the highest fitrains of joy and praise. Many of the hymns so commonly read with a dead level of voice, require similar variations of utterance, to give anything like true and soul-felt effect to the amotions which they were designed to express. The habitual tones of many readers of hymns, are so cold, so lifeless, and inexpressive, so flatly prosaic and mechanical, that the whole «tyle is virtually a desecration of the sacred lyrics, which were composed for the express purpose of breathing a higher and purer life into the exercise of devotion. — The miserable defectiveness of education as it is, never appears more strik- ing than when the minister who has spent a large part of life, the whole period from the commencement of his aca- demic career to the close of his professional course, — in pro- fessed preparation for the right discharge of the duties of the pulpit, 'goes through the ceremony' of reading a hymn, as if it were a page of an almanac, with a perpetually returning clink of voice, that seems to resemble nothing so much as the never varying sound of the hammer on the anvil. No reader needs so complete a control over the pitch and range of the voice as the preacher. The deepest notes of profound awe, solemnity, and reverence, are indispensable to his utterance, not as an occasional resort for variety and ef- fect, but as the prevalent strain of devout expression, whether in the reading of the Scriptures and of hymns, or in the ap- propriate effect of a sermon which happens to exemplify, with more or less frequency, the language of profound emotion. None but a practised speaker can sustain long the peculiar organic action requisite for the production of deep-toned ut- terance. It is, of all modes of voice, the most exhausting to organs not expanded and invigorated by special exercise. The case is analogous to that of a vocalist whose natural * register' and habitual practice are ' tenor,' changing, for an CULTIVATION OP THE VOICE. — ^PITCH. 139 hour, to the exercise of singing ' bass'. The effect is usually felt, in such cases, to be altogether enfeebling. Yet the same individual will sustain, without fatigue, his wonted form of vocal exertion, for a whole evening. The average voiccj of conversation and unimpassioned reading or speaking, is in the ' tenor' or middle range of notes ; that of solemn and deep emotion, in public address, is relatively as low as 'bass.* The latter is properly the prevalent style of the pulpit, which demands the strong and impressive utterance of passages nat- urally pitched on a low key ; while conversation, in conse- quence of the limited space which it requires the voice to fill, admits the easier task of vocal exertion on a low pitch, uni- ted with a softened force. Persons conversant, to any extent, with the nature of the process of ' phonation,'* will at once perceive the peculiar necessity of vocal training for the preacher, as it arises from the special form of utterance connected with his professional functions. Any ear, however, can readily detect the helpless and inexpressive hollo wness into which the preacher's voice so often falls in the strains of deep feeling, — a fault against which due cultivation and practice would be an infallible safe- guard. The dreaded reaction of nature, on Monday, after the ex- cessive exertions of the Sabbath, — a thing which preachers of delicate or susceptible organization so often anticipate with a sense of coming misery, is, no doubt, caused, in part, by the unreasonable extent of exertion encountered in repeating the effort of public speaking twice, or even thrice, on the same day. But the chief cause of exhaustion is usually to be traced to the state of the larynx and the bronchial tubes, induced by the frequent repetition and long continued use of the lowest notes of the voice, which of necessity cause the expenditure of a comparatively large supply of breath, in their production and formation. A rigorous course of vocal exercise, serving, for the organs of speech, the same purpose with powerful gymnastic disci- * The formation of vocal sound. 140 PULPIT ELOCUTION. pline for the limbs, is the only security for the long continued possession of strength of utterance, especially if exerted on low notes. The parts so severely taxed must be protected by exercise adapted both to indurate and supple the muscular apparatus, so as to impart, at once, vigor and flexibihty to the voice. The unreflecting observer often contents himself, in view of the professional difficulty now referred to, with prescribing to the preacher the habitual use of a higher key of voice, in his public performances, as a sufficient security against inju- rious effiicts. But it is forgotten, in these instances, that the preacher, if true to his office, must habitually use the natural and proper tones of deep and solemn emotion ; and, although it is certain, that evils not unfrequently arise from the undue prevalence of one strain of feeling and of utterance, yet it is not less so, that the very themes on which the preacher dis- courses, require, for the most part, a deepened note of voice. There is, in fact, no alternative, in most cases, but due prac- tice and training, as a security against those fatal inroads of disability and disease, which are so frequent among the mem- bers of the clerical profession. Powerful constitutions and cheerful tempers enable individuals to bear much injury with- out sinking under it. The cerebral and nervous systems (not to speak of the muscular frame) of some men, enable them even to bid defiance to the effects of habitual intemper- ance, and to attain, in spite of these, to a vigorous old age, — as in the case of the Scottish highlander, whose daily potations would destroy most Americans, in a few years, or even months. But no sound-minded person thinks of quoting such cases as authority for indulging in such practices. The case is similar, as regards the tear and wear of vocal exertion : if not coun- teracted by rational preventives, it cuts off, silently but surely, its annual multitudes of victims. The seasonable precautions which a proper early education would prescribe, might obviate all such evils. But, as matters are, this result is left to the choice of the adult student, at a stage when the remedy, if not speedily applied, may prg^yQ^t^ J^.^ CULTIVATION OP THE VOICE. * INFLECTION.' 141 * InfiectionJ The systematic cultivation of the voice, is in no respect more important to true and effective expression, than in its proper inflection, or, in other words, its transits upward and downward on the scale, in accommodation to the variations of thought and feeling, whether in emphatic words, or the suc- cessive clauses of a sentence. The utterance of unpractised and unskilful readers, is usually marked by the absence of in- flection, and, consequently, a prevailing monotony ; or by me- chanical inflections, which never rise or fall beyond a certain note, and which necessarily give a measured correspondence of parts to all sentences, alike ; gliding up at one clause and down at another, in a regularly alternating see-saw of sound, which destroys the natural variety of thought and emotion. This uniformly recurring verbal melody, resembles, in effect, the singing of all the hymns in a book to the same tune. An- other common fault in inflection, is that of overdoing it ; so that the upward and downward slides are rendered mechani- cally and disagreeably prominent, projecting themselves upon the ear, as the jagged rocks of wild scenery upon the eye ; or that of exaggerating every inflection into a double form, com- prising both slides in every distinctive or emphatic accent. This style destroys all repose and dignity of voice, by its jerking turns and reduplications, and its overanxious empha- sis. Another error, still, converts all poetry into prose by substituting the pointed and marked inflections of common dis- course, for the reduced and melodious ones of verse. This fault seems to extract the appropriate feeling from a hymn, and to bring it down from devotional elevation to mere prac- tical associations of utility, such as are appreciated by the un- derstanding, rather than felt in the heart. But the most preva- lent of all faults in inflection, is that of varying the voice by a certain personal melody of tone, habitual to the reader alone ; sliding upward or downward or waving and undulating, at the dictate of a false ear, without any regard to the expression of thought or feeling, and in obedience to no law but the accus- 142 PULPIT ELOCUTION. tomed gait of the individual's peculiar style of utterance, con- tracted at school. This fault constitutes what is termed, in popular language, * a tone.' It marks the man, but does not express his meaning. Its effect resembles that of singing * out of tune,' and adding to false intonation a vitiated melody. Whatever may be the sentiment which such a speaker utters, its effect is neutralized, more or less, by this trick of habit. Yet it is a fault from which few speakers comparatively are exempt. Some exemplify it more conspicuously ; others, less so : but it is an error in elocution which holds possession of the pulpit, to the exclusion of the genuine expressive utter- ance that nature prompts, and which alone can elicit a true personal sympathy. A degree of attention, no greater than is usually given, in the cultivation of vocal music, to the mastering of the gamut, would cure all the faults which usually disfigure the inflections of pulpit elocution, and would enable the preacher to speak with effect both to head and heart, in the appropriate language of inflection. The simple and complex* slides of the voice upward and downward on the scale, are the only proper means of drawing intellectual distinctions, of indicating the constitu- ent and relative parts of a sentiment, as these are subdivided and arranged in the consecutive clauses of a sentence, or of conveying those emotions which predominate in the heart of the speaker, and which he wishes to transfer to those of his audience. < Inflection,' whether it is exemplified in the form of the * slide' or the * wave,' may be analyzed scientifically, in the manner exhibited in Dr. Rush's work on the voice, by the application of the musical scale ; or it may be studied practi- cally, by attentive observation of the actual turns of voice, in the exercises of reading and speaking. But, in either case, it requires a close and penetrating application of the attention to nice and exact distinctions of sound. It cannot be mastered by ordinary inspection or transient notice. But the due * The complex or double slide of the voice Dr. Rush terms the ' wave.' CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. ^MOVEMENT.* 148 study and practice of this part of elocution will be richly re- warded, in the acquisition of a skilful and effective control over the true * melody' of speech and reading, and, conse- quently, over that music of the voice which plays, at the will of the orator, the tune of thought or that of feeling. Inflec- tions are, always, the vocal exposition of a sentence : they are the interpreters of speech and enforce its meaning ; without them, reading is but the senseless syllabication of the juvenile learner, in his unpractised steps, when the spirit of a passage is merged in the mere sound of words as such. The voice of the skilful reader, aided by appropriate inflections, strikes a thought home to both head and heart, and awakes in the soul every kindred association. Inflection is, in all cases, one of the most useful and effectual instruments of true eloquence. It is the purest and most brilliant of all the ornaments which a consummate elocution confers on the voice. It is the ap- propriate language of a cultivated intellect and a discerning spirit ; and it is, not less distinctively, the melody into which emotion breathes the life and power of expression.* ^MovementJ Another distinguishing trait of a cultivated voice, and one which is of the utmost moment to the preacher, is the complete control which it ensures over the * movement,' or rate of time observed in utterance, as adapted to different emotions. A slight observation is sufficient to enable any ear to detect the common faults, in this particular, which are ex- hibited in the pulpit. Some preachers, desiring to secure a plain, familiar style of expression, resembling that of conver- sation, run into the error of too great rapidity. A similar re- sult is produced by the constitutional vivacity of others. In *■ The various forms of inflection will be found scientifically arranged and designated in Dr. Rush's Philosophy of the Voice. They are exemplified in technical detail, in the volume on Orthophony, formerly mentioned, and practically applied to an appropriate selection of pas- sages in the American Elocutionist. 144 PULPIT ELOCUTlOlJr. either case, dignity and impressiveness, and even distinctness, are, more or less, sacrificed to impulse and velocity. The audience which the minister of religion usually ad- dresses, is of a mixed character, as to intellectual discipline and ability, and is largely made up of persons who are daily engaged in the practical pursuits of active business. Minds addicted to habits of this description, do not usually prove rapid in the formation of strictly intellectual associations : they need a comparatively full allowance of time to aid the development of a train of thought. An audience formed of students and professional men, accustomed to facility and rapidity of mental action, can more easily keep up with the succession of ideas created by a reader whose gait of voice inclines to velocity. The habit of silent reading enables the practised student to follow the succession of thought with the utmost rapidity ; and his discipline of intellect renders him competent even to foresee a speaker's drift of thought, and anticipate his train of argument. But the man of merely ope- rative and practical habit, must move deliberately, and fol- low, rather than accompany, a speaker. The aged hearer, who has little intellectual facility, often complains of the preacher's rapidity and confusion of utterance. Complaints such as this, are not always well grounded ; and the waning faculties of age are, too often, in these cases, the chief source of apparent feebleness and indistinctness in the voice of the preacher. No speaker, however, who addresses a mixed audience, should suffer himself to fall into the rapidity of ut- terance which leaves any passage unintelligible to any indi- vidual among his hearers. Deliberateness of manner is not only an indispensable requi- site to intelligible address, but a powerful and natural aid to impressive utterance. Without a moderate rate of ' move- ment' in the voice, there can be no association of grave or grand effect on the ear: the style of utterance is, in such in- stances, unavoidably rendered light and trivial. Solemnity, in particular, demands the utmost slowness of utterance. The uncultivated reader is always prone to celerity of enunciation, CHLTIVATION OF THE VOICE. * MOVEMENT.' 145 and thus hinders repose and reverence, and every other form of deep and tranquil impression. A style like this, is pecu- liarly ill-suited to the purposes of reading and speaking, as connected with the duties of the sacred office. The cultivated reader is taught to appreciate the becoming- effect and moral beauty of due slowness, as an attribute of sacred eloquence. He gives, accordingly, ample scope to^ sound, lengthens the duration of every prominent vowel, and' thus makes it the fit vehicle of deep and full emotion : he- avoids a crowded utterance as the very bane of serious and' grave feeling ; he cultivates the habit of moderation in the succession of sounds ; and his pauses all naturally receive a proportioned length, by which they become deeply impressive to tfte ear. These traits of utterance are indispensable to the majesty of style prevalent in all the sublime descriptions of the Old Testament, and are required, not unfrequently, in- the New. But while taste and feeling demand due slowness in utter- ing whatever is deeply impressive to the mind ; they forbid equally all lagging and drawling, as wholly destructive of ev- ery good effect, — as only irksome* or ridiculous, — bespeaking- a feeble temperament and habit, and an utter inability to- create any deep or powerful effect. This style, however, is proverbially current in pulpit elocution, and forms one of the distinctive and prominent features of its mechanically solemn and exaggerated manner. The discipline of elocution dispels such effects, by the light which it sheds on the nature of * movement,' as an element of vocal effect; and, just as the- musician obeys, with instinctive readiness, the direction: which accelerates or retards his voice, with the most definite- precision, and vivid effect on the ear, so does the instructed} reader produce the characteristic expression of every senti- ment by the instantaneous adaptation of his rate of utterance to the spirit of the language which falls from his lips. Truth, and nature, and propriety, preside, thus, over his whole man- ner, and render it living and eloquent. 13 146 PULPIT ELOCUTION, * Rhythm' and Pausing. The discipline of the voice offers to the public speaker a great facility, as regards the proper vocal effect required for his purposes, in the regularity of * rhythm,* or the equable suc- cession of sound, and the due length of pauses. ' Rhythm,' as a part of elocution, enables the reader to maintain an equal and symmetrical flow of voice, while it guards him, not less care- fully, against a mechanical prominence of rhythmical accent, which is attended with a hammering effect on the ear. A true rhythm has been demonstrated by Steele to consti- tute, as distinctly, a trait of appropriate reading and speaking, as of music. It serves, in the former, the same purposes as in the latter : it imparts a smooth, agreeable, and symmeltical effect to the voice : it prescribes and facilitates a regular and easy style of breathing : it enables the reader or speaker to pronounce the successive clauses of every sentence with a regulated, easy, fluent style of accent, which renders the effort of full utterance comparatively light, promotes the tranquillity of his emotions, saves his own organic strength, and gives forth his language with an'harmonious and pleasing effect to the ear of others. The uncultivated reader wastes breath and strength, and disturbs his utterance, by want of regularity in the alternate successions of sound and pause. His whole style of voice is like that of a person who, in singing, pays no regard to * time,' — the very foundation of music* Emphasis. Nothing, perhaps, displays so strikingly the benefit of sys- tematic practice in elocution, as the force, the spirit, and the efficacy which it imparts to emphasis.f The dull routine of * For exercises in ' rhythm,' see the manual on Orthophony. t Dr. Rush lias justly given to the word ' emphasis' a wider application than that which restricts it to mere comparative farce. He comprehends under it, in accordance with its etymology, all the phenomena of voice which render a word significant or impressive. CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. — EMPHASIS. 147 school reading, in its customary forms, deadens the distinctive character of all prominent phrases, and reduces all the words of a sentence to one flat monotonous level, in which there are no projecting and salient points to arrest the attention ; the voice gliding on from beginning to end of a period, as if every clause were of exactly equal weight, and every word of pre- cisely the same significance. The influence of early habit is so strong with most persons, that few, even among professional readers, seem to have the power of throwing into a significant word, or an expressive phrase, that force which an energetic and distinctive effect of sense or emotion demands. A proper emphasis adds a heightened colouring of passion, or gives a bolder prominence of meaning, to the most energetic style, and is capable even of concealing the deficiencies of expression comparatively tame. But most public readers have accustomed themselves to a cer- tain medium of ordinary effect in emphasis, which forbids the possibility of their imparting weight, or significance, or vivid force to distinctive expressions. Hence their mode of reading is so far from lending a powerful aid to written composition, that it serves rather to weaken and impair it. The actor who is distinguished in his art, studies his em- phasis with the most assiduous attention, and uses every en- deavour which professional ambition can prompt, or profes- sional skill can suggest, to give the most prominent relief and the boldest effect to emphatic turns of expression. He will sometimes devote successive hours to the most laborious reite- ration of vocal effort, to give life and pungency to a single passage. Nor is this the practice of mere drudges in their vocation, endeavouring to work up dull conceptions to a vivid effect : it was the daily self-discipline of men whose expressive genius the world has always acknowledged and admired. A disciplined voice may be recognized in its emphasis as readily as in any other point, notwithstanding the current no- tion that, to give a true emphasis, nothing more is needed than a right tmderstanding of the language which requires it. Force and skill are, in this as in all other things, the fruit of 148 PULPIT ELOCUTION. practice. The violent blow of the angry rustic may fall with little harm to him at whom it is aimed : the skilful one of the scientific athlete, tells with a direct and concentrated force, which renders it as effective as it is inevitable. A similar result is exhibited in the use of the voice, when the practised reader throws into the emphasis of a single word a whole world of meaning, condensed into one energetic sound ; while the unskilful voice, with its vague loudness and aimless noise, fights ' as one that beateth the air.* The study of elocution not only prescribes this due disci- pline of the voice for positive force of emphasis, but for that not less valuable means of impressive effect, the power and the habit of withholding force,. in anticipation of emphasis or subsequently to its occurrence, so as to give it the due relief arising from the comparative reduction of preceding and fol- lowing words. In this mode of managing the voice lies the main effect of expressive and distinctive force. The unprac- tised reader is prone to follow the negligent habit of conver- sational utterance, which throws out a more frequent but a feebler emphasis than impressive public reading demands. He is addicted, perhaps, to those habits of false emphasis which lead him to give unnecessary prominence to insignifi- cant and inexpressive words, and, consequently, to mar the whole effect of what emphasis he chiefly intends. He forces into emphatic style the auxiharics and particles of a sentence, to the utter subversion of meaning and emotion.* The elo- cutionary training of the voice in emphasis, leads to the ob- servance of a principle directly contrary to such practice, and accustoms the reader, by the use of a few obvious rules, to reserve his force for the prominent points, of meaning, and always to husband his emphasis so as to make it tell. Another very important effect of the due discipline of the voice, as to emphasis, is the security which it gives that the * The ecstatic joy of the father, at the return of the prodigal son, is, in this style, converted from a hurst of grateful and glad feeling, into the recitation of a lesson in etymology ; thus, ' For this my son was lost, and is found !' CULTIVATION OF THE VOICE. — ^EXPRESSION.' 149 student shall avoid those sharp and jagged turns of voice which indicate a species of nervous fastidiousness about em- phasis. This fault was described, in a preceding part of the present work, as an error of inflection, as well as emphasis, and as subverting all simplicity, directness, and dignity of ut- terance. It can be effectually cured in no way but by the faithful and rigorous analysis of intonation and expression, which systematic elocution prescribes. The gradations of in- flection in the slides and waves of the voice, are all distinctly classified and illustrated in the successive steps of elocutionary training in this department ; and to the practice of these, as laid down in the manuals before mentioned, the student who is desirous of attaining a correct and genuine emphasis, is, for the present, referred. * Expression.^ The discipline of the voice in the expression of feeling and emotion, is a part of elocution which, to the preacher, is of vast moment. The imperfect utterance which characterizes the ordinary style of reading formed at school, — the period when habit is generally fixed, — predisposes even the clergy- man, in the pulpit, to an inexpressive mode of voice, which belies rather than manifests whatever emotion may exist in his soul. The voice of most persons in adult life needs a thorough renovation of habit, to enable it to utter truly the vivid language of the Scriptures, of sacred poetry, or even of expressive prose. The unfriendly influences of neglect and perversion of vocal habit, in early years, and the equally un- favourable effect of a conventional coldness of utterance, cur- rent in society, have been frequently, in our preceding re- marks, referred to, as the sources of prevalent defects in read- ing and speaking. Elocution, as a remedial art, offers to the student the means and the methods of self-reformation in ex- pression. It prescribes an extensive and varied course of practice on the most vivid passages of the most effective writ- 13* 150 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ers, with a view to awaken emotion, and keep it alive, in the exercise of reading. The materials for practice it draws largely from poetry, as the natural language of feeling, and as the most inspiring source of impassioned utterance. To the theological student, in particular, it suggests the earnest read- ing of the Scriptures, — the most vivid and the most poetic of all books, — as one of the most influential in imparting ex- pressive character to the habits of the voice. The reading of sacred poetry, especially in the lyric form, as the most inspir- ing of all, it prescribes as another means of forming vocal habit to a true and living style. It suggests, also, the frequent practice of reading essays, lectures, and discourses in the form of sermons, with a view to rendering the last of these modes of exercise an easy and natural and habitual exertion, instead of leaving it to prove an unattempted, unfamiliar, and un- natural performance, inducing mechanical and artificial man- ner, and conscious awkwardness and embarrassment. The preparatory discipline of elocution, by the familiarity which it produces with the genuine style of true reading, brings this exercise to an identity with speaking, in its manner and effect, and imparts to the varying tones of emotion a distinct- ness and a force of character, which make them pass with power from the heart of the reader to that of the hearer. It thus takes off the coldness and formality of the conventional style of sermonizing, and substitut^fe for it that of actual per- Bonal communication between man and man. It enjoins, ac- cordingly, such a frequency of repetition in the preparatory reading of a discourse, as shall stamp the substance of it on the mind, and enable the preacher to deliver it as virtually a spoken address, rather than the school-boy reading of a pre- scribed task. This frequency of repetition, in previous read- ing, it requires, farther, to such an extent as shall leave the preacher free to direct his eye, principally, to his audience rather than his paper ; as the language of the eye is nature's primary effect in expression, whether as the means of secur- ing the attention and sympathy of those to whom a discourse CULTIVATION OP THE VOICE. — * EXPRESSION.' 151 is addressed, or as the most efficacious mode of securing, by reactive effect on the reader himself, the tones of genuine personal feeling in his voice.* The study of elocution leads to a thorough-going analysis of all the component elements of expressive effect of voice, and to an intimate knowledge of their character. It provides an extensive course of practice on each singly, and, also, in their combinations, till all can be executed with unerring pre- cision, fulness, and effect. The bad results of cold and inex- pressive manner, have been already described in this volume. On these, therefore, it is unnecessary at present, to dwell. The opposite style, of false excessive warmth, and of studied, artificial variety of intonation, has also been described. The analysis which practical elocution presents of all the con- stituents of vocal expression, makes familiar to the student the exact character and value of each ; so that he is secured against the tendency, otherwise, to slight or exaggerate any. He becomes accustomed, accordingly, to observe closely the proper effect of every point by which the expression of emo- tion is naturally heightened or reduced : he acquires an intu- itive readiness and exactness of judgment, and a critical re- finement of taste, which guide him instinctively to the vivid, full, and true utterance of every characteristic tone of feeling. He preserves, thus, the quiet, chaste, unimpassioned, didac- tic style of exposition and discussion, in the essay, the lec- ture, and the doctrinal discourse ; while, in the treatment of subjects that naturally call forth intensity of feeHng, his utter- ance adapts itself, with no less propriety andi certainty of effect, to the language of vivid emotion. His voice takes, in * Preachers, if they would observe how easy it is for an audience to hold at arm's length the man who merely reads at them, (with his head down, and his eye on his manuscript,) compared to the man who speaks to them, (with the natural eloquence of his eye directed to theirs,) would understand better how easy it is to listen with indifference to the one, and how difficult to escape from the influence of the other. Prudence might, in such cases, be excused for whispering the half-worldly suggestion how easy it may be, in given circumstances, to ' dismiss' the one, and how dif- ficult to part with the other. 152 PtJLPIT ELOCUTION. a word, the hue of every subject over which it passes, and tinges his whole utterance with the colouring of the heart. He knows how to restrain expression, and how to give it free scope, how to call home the energy of the voice, and how to throw it out. His extensive and varied discipline on expres- sive tone, renders it easy for him to pass from the level and tranquil moods of utterance to those which are imbued with passion. His tones, therefore, spring directly from feeling, and are as free from any arbitrary trait as they are from mor- bid chill and reserve. The diligent student of elocution recovers, in short, that power of instantaneous sympathy and of vivid expression, which characterized him at that early stage of life, when the freshness and fulness of his tones indicated a heart unmodi- fied by conventional and arbitrary influence. The power which he has thus recovered, his mature mind and reflective judgment enable him to apply to those deeper and richer sources of thought, which his intellectual culture has opened up to him. The still higher sphere of thought and feeling to which the preacher's vocation transfers him, he enters with a preparatory training, which, if it does nothing else, frees him, at least, from the embarrassing consciousness that he has not acquitted himself fully and honourably, as far as human abili- ties may go, to a part of the peculiar duties which are to be devolved upon him, by his professional relation. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES EOR THE VOICE. The following exercises are designed for the practical ap- plication of the principles discussed in the foregoing remarks : they consist, accordingly, of examples selected with reference to those parts of elocution which are immediately applicable to the training of the voice for the purposes of the pulpit. To students who had already acquired a knowledge of the general principles of elocution, from the manuals formerly mentioned, or from any similar source, the exercises now presented will suit the purpose of special application to pro- fessional uses ; and to persons who had not previously made elocution a particular study, they will serve as a partial sub- stitute for a more extended course of elementary discipline. ARTICULATION. The Fundamental Sounds of the English Language.^ ' Tonic' Elements. [So classed by Dr. Rush, from their susceptibility of ' intonation.'] Simple. t^-11, ^-rm, ^-n, Ai-v, JS-rr, jE-nd, I-n, JE-ve, 0-r, 0-n, Z7-p, Oo-ze, Tu-oo-k. * The inadvertency of attention, or the ascendency of erroneous habit, being the principal causes of indistinct enunciation, the rigorous practice of the above elements, becomes, even to professional speakers, a useful exercise, as a means of securing attention to details. t The Italic letters contain in each instance, the element of sound, which is the object of direct attention. Each element should be repeated after the pronunciation of the word in which it occms. 154 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Compound. -4-le, /-ce, 0-ld, Ou-v, Oi-\, Use (the verb).* ' Sulitonics.' [So denominated by Dr, Rush, because of their inferior susceptibility of intona- tion, when compared with the ' tonic' elements.] L-u-U, M-a[-7n, JV-u-n, i?-ap, ra-r,t Si-ng, B-a-he, D-i-d, G-a-ff, V-Si\-ve, Z-one, A-z-ure, T-e, W-oe, I'h-ine, J-oj. v' Atonies,' [So called from their deficiency as to capacity for intonation.] P-l-pey T-en-t, C-a-ke, F-i-fe, 0-esL-se, Jl-e, Th-in, Tush. Combinations. |^/-ame, (7/-aim, i<^/-ame, 6?/-are, Pl-ace, Sl-aj, Spl-aj, £r-ave, Cr-Rve, Z>r-a\n, M^-ame, Gr-am, Pr-Rj, Spr-ajj 5"r-ace, Str-Ry, Shr-ine, Sm-aW, Sn-Rr\, Sp-Rce, St-Rj, ~Bo-ld, E-//; E-/^, E-/m, He-lp, Fa-lls, Yru-U, E-Zre, Mai-m'c?, Glea-ms, A-nd, GRi-ns, Ba-nJc, Da-nce, A-nt, 'Ba-rb, 'Ba-rb'd, Ha-rc?, Ha-r^, Ma-r^'c?, A-rm, A-rm'c?, Ea-rw, Ea-rwW, Hea-rse, Da-r$t, Ba-r^, Ma-rt, Ca-rve, Ca-rv'd, Chasm, Rea-*'w, Asp, Yast, Tass'd, Ma-kes, A-ct, Wa-k'd, Wa-/if, Qua^^'c?, A-pt, Su-pp'd, 0-p'n, Ta-k'n, Sa-dd'n, Gra-v'w, Brigh-^'w, Ca-^^s^, A-rm'st, Ca-nst, Da-rst, Mi-dst, Hea-rd'st, A-rm'dst, Ijea-m'dst, A-ble, Trou-bVd, Am-ple, To^-pVd, Qra-dle, l^Yi-dVd, M.a-rl, Wo-rld, B,i-ngs, Ha-ng'st, Wro-ng'd, Wro-ng'dst.^ The elementary sounds and combinations contained in the preceding tables, should be repeated till they can be enuncia- * For explanation of the few points of difference in arrangement, be- tween the above table and that of Dr. Kush, see statements in the vol- ume on Orthophony. t The five elements at the beginning of the above table, may, from their comparative approach to vocality, be termed ' pure subtonics.' J The combinations of elements is, in every case, indicated by italics. Every combination should be repeated separately, after pronouncing the word in which it occurs. § For a list of common errors in articulation, see American Elocu tionist. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — ^ARTICULATION. 155 ted with perfect exactness and well-defined character, in the full style of public speaking. Distinctness of enunciation will be much pronaoted by a careful, slow, exact, syllabic and literal analysis of selected words, read with special precision and force, for the purpose of practising a clear, firm, well-marked articulation. This exercise is rendered still more conducive to its intended effect, if lines or sentences are read in inverted order, so as to de- tach them from their ordinary associations of sound. A useful exercise for the purpose of securing a critical knowledge of orthoepy, and a strict accuracy of habit in pro- nouncing, is to read aloud several columns, daily, from Wor- cester's edition of Johnson and Walker's dictionaries, as com- bined by Todd, while close attention is paid to observe whether the sounds of the voice correspond precisely to the notation of the orthoepy. A copious list of words commonly mispronounced, even in the pulpit, formed a part in the original plan of the present work. But the extent of the list rendered it impracticable to introduce it without swelling the size of the volume beyond its limited extent. It may be sufficient, perhaps, to refer here to the tables presented in the Elocutionist, as a specimen of the classes of words which are most liable to mispronunci- ation, and as an indication of the importance of the exercise suggested in regard to the use of the dictionary. The pulpit, in our day, and in this country, is so generally regarded as the standard of accuracy in pronunciation, that more than usual attention to this branch of elocution is justly- required of ministers. But some young preachers, in partic- ular, are too prone to shrink from their proper responsibleness as scholars, and to accommodate their own style to mere popu- lar usage, while others, from a fastidious anxiety about bare exactness, adhere to the letter of the law of nicety, and even transcend its requirements. Hence we hear, in some Ameri- can pulpits, the pronunciations — airih, vnaircj, pmrfect, from speakers who follow literally Walker's notation of orthoe- py, but do not pay attention to his own qualification of it. 156 I»tTLPIT ELOCtJTlOJf. The former class of errors, however, — that which arises from accommodation to mere negligent common usage, — is the more prevalent, and particularly in New England. Hence the many broad and obsolete and peculiar sounds which char- acterize the pulpit pronunciation of this region. It would seem to be an axiom of education, that in an ex- tensive country like the United States, all young persons should be everywhere trained to do their part in preserving the unity of language and the refinement of custom. A libe- ral education should enable every young man to fill with pro- priety the office of public speaker, in any part of his native country. But the fact is quite otherwise. Our young New England clergy usually carry with them their marked local peculiarities of usage in pronouncing, and throw an unneces- sary impediment in the way of their own acceptation as speakers elsewhere. A few months or years, it is true, usu- ally suffice to rub off such points. But a seasonable attention would prevent their existence. The pulpit orators of our Middle and Western States are very generally chargeable with gross negligence and impro- prieties in pronunciation, which a little study in early years would have sufficed to correct. The pulpit cannot command the respect of any but the illiterate, while it tolerates a slov- enly inaccuracy and low taste, in the use of language, or in the manner of pronouncing the most ordinary forms of ex- pression. The minister, as an educated, or, at least, a read- ing man, should ever feel that he is looked to as a model in this particular, and that his influence in this, as in other things, is either upward or downward. EXEKCISES IN ' QUALITY.' 'Pure Tone: This quality of voice belongs to moderate, soft, and subdu- ed utterance, as in the expression of pathos, repose and solem- nity, when not accompanied by grandeur or sublimity. The ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — ' PURE TONE.* 157 object in view, in the practice of such passages as the follow- ing, is, to secure the power of moulding the voice into per- fectly clear, pure, and smooth sound, as the true and proper habit of utterance, but particularly important in all passages- of tender and softened effect. This mode of voice characteri- zes the appropriate reading of some of the Psalms, many of the most affecting hymns, and all the subdued appeals of di- rect address, in discourses from the pulpit. Pure tone is o€ as much service to the public reader and speaker as to the- singer. It renders the emission of vocal sound at once clear^ easy, natural, and agreeable, and enables the performer to* exert his organs without fatigue. The following, and all other exercises, should be repeated!, till a perfect vocal execution is attained. To secure fully the quality in view, the ' tonic' elements should be repeated! in the same style. The ear and the voice will thus become; perfectly attuned to the effect. Pathos. Ode to Peace. — Cowper. * Come, peace of mind, delightful guest !* Return, and make thy downy nest. Once more, in this sad heart ! Nor riches I nor power pursue, Nor hold forbidden joys in view : We therefore need not part. ' Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me,. From avarice and ambition free. And pleasure's fatal wiles ? — For whom, alas ! dost thou prepare The sweets that I was wont to share, The banquet of thy smiles ? ' The great, the gay, shall they partake The heaven that thou alone canst make ? And wilt thou quit the stream 14 158 PTTLPIT ELOCUTION. That murmurs through the dewy mead, The grove and the sequestered shed, To be a guest with them ? * For thee I panted ; thee I prized ; For thee I gladly sacrificed •Whatever I loved before ; — And shall I see thee start away, And helpless, hopeless, hear thee say — *' Farewell ! — we meet no more ?" ' Repose. Invocation to Evening. — Cowper. * Come, Evening, once again, season of peace ; Return, sweet Evening, and continue long ! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west, With matron step slow moving, while the night Treads on thy sweeping train ; one hand employed In letting fall the curtain of repose On bird and beast, the other, charged for man With sweet oblivion of the cares of day : Not sumptuously adorned, nor needing aid, Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems ; A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow. Suffices thee ; save that the moon is thine Not less than hers, not worn, indeed, on high, With ostentatious pageantry, but set With modest grandeur in thy purple zone, Resplendent less, but of an ampler round. — Come, then ; and thou shalt find thy votary calm, Or make me so. Composure is thy gift.* Placid Emotion.* Books . — Addison. ' AristQtle tells us, that the world is a copy, or transcript, * Conversational passages, essays, lectures, and discourses, when read in the study or the parlour, the conference or the lecture-room, may, par- ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. 'PURE TONE.' 159 of those ideas which are in the mind of the First Being, and that those ideas which are in the mind of man, are a trans- cript of the world. To this we may add, that words are the transcript of those ideas which are in the mind of man, and that writing or printing is the transcript of words. As the Supreme Being has expressed, and, as it were, printed his ideas in the creation, men express their ideas in books, which, by this great invention of these latter ages, may last as long as the sun and moon, and perish only in the general wreck of nature. * There is no other method of fixing those thoughts which arise and disappear in the mind of man, and transmitting them to the last periods of time ; no other method of giving a permanency to our ideas, and preserving the knowledge of any particular person, when his body is mixed with the com- mon mass of matter, and his soul retired into the world of spirits. Books are the legacies that a great genius leaves to mankind, which are delivered down from generation to gen- eration, as presents to the posterity of those who are yet un- born. * All other arts of perpetuating our ideas, continue but a short time. Statues can last but a few thousands of years, edifices fewer, and colours still fewer than edifices. Michael Angelo, Fontana, and Raffaelle, will, hereafter, be what Phi- dias, Vitruvius, and Appelles, are at present ; the names of great statuaries, architects, and painters, whose works are lost. The several arts are expressed in mouldering materials. Na- ture sinks under them, and is not able to support the ideas which are impressed upon it.- * The circumstance which gives authors an advantage above all these great masters, is this, that they can multiply their originals, or, rather, can make copies of their works, to what number they please, which shall be as valuable as the ticularly when composed in moderate and unimpassioned style, be prop- erly read in merely pure tone. But the public reading of the same may, from the larger demands of space, and, consequently, the fuller tone of voice, be carried to the extent of moderate orotund utterance. 160 PULPIT ELOCUTION. originals themselves. This gives a great author a prospect of something like eternity. — If writings are thus durable, and may pass from age to age, throughout the whole course of time, how careful should an author be of committing anything to print, that may corrupt posterity, and poison the minds of men with vice and error !' Solemnity.' Funeral Hymn. * How still and peaceful is the grave, Where, — life's vain tumults past, — The appointed house, by Heaven's decree, Receives us all at last ! The wicked there from troubling cease, — Their passions rage no more ; And there the weary pilgrim rests From all the toils he bore. All, levelled by the hand of death, Lie sleeping in the tomb Till God in judgment call them forth To meet their final doom. * Orotund Quality.^* This mode of voice is characterized by peculiar roundness, fulness, and resonance, combining the ' purity' of the * head tone' with the reverberation of the chest. It has a deeper ef- fect than mere purity of tone, and usually ranges with the hass notes of the male voice ; while the head tone has a lighter character, and seldom extends below the tenor level. Oro- * The term ' orotund' Dr. Rusli has adopted from a modification of the Latin phrase ' ore rotundo.^ The word, as was mentioned before, is a good technical designation in elocution ; as it not only intimates the pecu- liar rotundity of the proper voice for public speaking, but the special con- dition of the interior and back parts of the mouth, which its production requires. See Orthophony. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — ' OROTUND QUALITY.' 161 tund quality is the natural mode of utterance in all deep, pow- erfid, and sublime emotions. It belongs, accordingly, to ora- tory, and to the holder forms of poetry. Orotund utterance is, like pure tone, a most effective aid to easy and full voice. It serves to diminish the fatigue of vocal exertion, and, at the same time, to give out clear and agreeable sound : it renders the utmost force of energetic ut- terance easily practicable ; and, by throwing vigour into the voice, it spares the lungs. The remarks on frequency of practice in pure tone, apply also to orotund quality. Every exercise should be perfectly mastered before proceeding to another; and the practice should not cease till all the ' tonic elements' can be easily and exactly executed in orotund style. • Pathos* and Sublimity. Rorae. — ^Byron. * O Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts, their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? — Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye ! "Whose agonies are evils of a day : — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. * The Niobe of nations \ there slie stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her withered hands. Whose holy dust was scattered long ago ; — The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now ; The very sepulchres lie tenantless "* PatJws, repose, and solemnity/, if united with grandeur, assume the oro- tund voice, although, without this union, they do not transcend the com- paratively moderate limits of pure tone. The orotund is the distinctive quality of grandeur and power. 14* 162 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Of their heroic dwellers : — dost thou flow, Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress !' Repose, Solemnity, and Sublimity. Evening . — Milton. * Now came still evening on ; and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird. They to their grassy couch, — these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; — She, all night long, her amorous descant sung : Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament With living sapphires. Hesperus that led The starry host, rode brightest till the moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.' Solemnity, Sublimity, and Pathos. The Treasures of the Deep. — ^Mrs. Hemans. < What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious Main ? — Pale glistening pearls, and rain-bow coloured shells, Bright things which gleam unrecked of, and in vain. — ■ Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy Sea ! We ask not such from thee. * Yet more, the depths have more ! — "VMiat wealth untold Far down, and shining through their stillness lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold. Won from ten thousand royal argosies. — Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main ; Earth claims not these again. * Yet more, the depths have more ! — Thy waves have rolled Above the cities of a world gone by ! ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — * OROTUND QUALITY.' 163 Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry ! — Dash o'er them, Ocean, in thy scornful play : Man yields them to decay. * Yet more, the billows and the depths have more : High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast. They hear not now the booming waters roar ; The battle thunders will not break their rest. — Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave : — Give back the true and brave ! * Give back the lost and lovely ! those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long. The prayer went up, through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearnings woke 'mid festal song ! — Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, — But all is not thine own ! * To thee the love of woman hath gone down : Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown, — Yet must thou hear a voice, — " Restore the dead !" — Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee, — " Restore the dead, thou Sea !" Energy and Sublimity. Hallowed Ground. — Campbell. ' What's hallowed ground ? — Has earth a clod Its Maker meant not should be trod By man, the image of his God, — Erect and free, — Unscourged by Superstition's rod To bow the knee ? ' That's hallowed ground, where, mourned and missed, The lips repose our love has kissed ; But where's their memory's mansion ? — Is't 164 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Yon churchyard's bowers ? No : in ourselves their souls exist, — a part of ours' ' What hallows ground where heroes sleep ? — 'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap ; — In dews that heavens far distant weep Their turf may bloom, Or genii twine beneath the deep Their coral tomb. * But strew his ashes to the wind Whose sword or voice has served mankind, — And is he dead, whose glorious mind Lifts thine, on high ? To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die. * Is't death to fall for Freedom's right ? — He's dead alone, that lacks her light, And murder sullies, in Heaven's sight, The sword he draws. What can alone ennoble fight ? — A noble cause ! * Give that ! and welcome War to brace Her drums, and rend heaven's reeking space : — The colours planted face to face. The charging cheer, — Though death's pale horse lead on the chase, — Shall still be dear ; — * And place our trophies where men kneel To Heaven ! — But Heaven rebukes my zeal. — The cause of Truth and Human Weal, O God above! Transfer it from the sword's appeal To Pea^e and Love ! * Peace, Love ! — the cherubim that twine Their spread wings o'er Devotion's shrine, — ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — * OROTUND QUALITY.* 165 Prayers sound, in vain, and temples shine, Where they are not. — The heart alone can make divine Religion's spot.' Joy and Sublimity. Prophetic Anticipations. — Cowper. O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true, Scenes of accomplished bliss ; which who can see, Though but in distant prospect, and not feel His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy ? Rivers of gladness water all the earth. And clothe all climes with beauty : the reproach Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field Laughs with abundance ; and the land, once lean, Or fertile only in its own disgrace. Exults to see its thirsty curse repealed. The various seasons woven into one, And that one season an eternal spring : The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence ; For there is none to covet, — all are full. The lion, and the libbard, and the bear. Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at noon Together, or all gambol in the shade Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. Antipathies are none. No foe to man Lurks in the serpent now : the mother sees, And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm. To stroke his azure neck, or to receive The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. All creatures worship man, and all mankind One Lord, one Father. Error has no place : That creeping pestilence is driven away ; The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart No passion touches a discordant string ; 166 PULPIT ELOCUTION. But all is harmony and love. Disease Is not : the pure and uncontaminated blood Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. One song employs all nations ; and all cry, " "Worthy the Lamb ! for he was slain for us." The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other; and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, — nation after nation taught the strain, — Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round.' Awe and Sublimity. The Final Judgment. — Horsley. * Grod hath warned us, — and let them, who dare to extenu- ate the warning, ponder the dreadful curse with which the Book of Prophecy is sealed, — " If any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy ; God shall take away his part out of the book of life :" — God hath warned us, that the inquiry into every man's conduct will be public; — Christ himself the Judge, — the whole race of man, and the whole angelic host, spectators of the awful scene. * Before that assembly, every man's good deeds will be de- clared, and his most secret sins disclosed. As no elevation of rank will then give a title to respect, no obscurity of condi- tion shall exclude the just from public honour, or screen the guilty from public shame. Opulence will find itself no lon- ger powerful ; — poverty will be no longer weak ; — birth will no longer be distinguished; — meanness will no longer pass unnoticed. The rich and poor will indeed strangely meet to- gether ; when all the inequalities of the present life shall dis- appear, and the conqueror and his captive, — the monarch and his subject, — the lord and his vassal, — the statesman and the peasant, — the philosopher and the unlettered hind, — shall find their distinctions to have been mere illusions. The charac- ters and actions of the greatest and the meanest have in truth been equally important, and equally public ; while the eye of ELEMENTAKT EXERCISES.— FORCE. 167 the omniscient God has been equally upon them all, — while all are at last equally brought to answer to their common Judge, and the angels stand around spectators, equally inter- ested in the dooms of all. * The sentence of every man will be pronounced by him who cannot be merciful to those who shall have willingly sold themselves to that abject bondage from which he died to pur- chase their redemption, — who, nevertheless, having felt the power of temptation, knows to pity them that have been tempted ; by him on whose mercy contrite frailty may rely, — whose anger hardened impenitence must dread. ' To heighten the solemnity and terror of the business, the Judge will visibly descend from heaven, — the shout of the archangels and the trumpet of the Lord will thunder through the deep, — the dead will awake, — the glorified saints will be caught up to meet the Lord in the air ; while the wicked will in vain call upon the mountains and the rocks to cover them. ' Of the day and hour when these things shall be, knoweth no man ; but the day and hour for these things are fixed in the eternal Father's counsels. Our Lord will come, — he will come unlooked for, and may come sooner than we think.' EXERCISES IN FORCE. The thorough discipline of the voice, for the purposes of public speaking, extends from whispering to shouting, — not with a view, in the case of these extremes, to the actual use of them, in the exercise of reading, but for the purpose of reaching the natural limits of capability, and securing a per- fect command over every degree of force, whether for acquir- ing organic power, and pliancy of voice, or ensuring command of expression as dependent on any degree of loudness. The following exercises, and the elements, of all three classes, tonic, subtonic, and atonic, should be repeated sever- al times, daily, for months, till their effect is fully felt in strengthening and compacting the sounds of the voice, and rendering the production of any degree of force an easy and 168 PULPIT ELOCUTION. agreeable exercise. Diligent cultivation in this department of elocution, for even a few weeks, will impart a stentorian power of vocal effort to persons whose volume of voice was previously insufficient, and whose degree of organic vigour, as well as their expressive power, in actual utterance, was very low. Suppressed Force. (Whisper and half whisper.)* Awe and Tenderness. Evening Prayer at a Girls* School. — Mrs. Hemans. < Hush ! 'tis a holy hour : — the quiet room Seems like a temple, while yon soft lamp sheds A faint and starry radiance, through the gloom And the sweet stillness, down on young bright heads, With all their clustering locks, untouched by care, And bowed, — as flowers are bowed with night, — in prayer. * Gaze on, 'tis lovely ! — childhood's lip and cheek, Mantling beneath its earnest brow of thought. Gaze — yet what seest thou in those fair and meek And fragile things, as but for sunshine wrought? — Thou seest what grief must nurture for the sky. What death must fashion for eternity !' Subdued Force. (Softened Utterance : ' Pure Tone.') Pathos. The Death of Reynolds. — J. Montgomery. * Behold the bed of death, — This pale and lovely clay ! Heard ye the sob of parting breath ? Marked ye the eye's last ray ? No ; — life so sweetly ceased to be, It lapsed in immortality. =* All passages of deep aive, require a degree of suppression, and hence of ' aspiration,' or breathing effect, which always produces more or less impurity of tone, in consequence of the restraining effect of awe upon the organs, and the unavoidable escape of unvocalized breath, along with the sound of the voice. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — FORCE. 169 * Could tears revive the dead, Rivers should swell our eyes ; Could sighs recall the spirit fled, We would not quench our sighs, Till love relumed this altered mien. And all the imbodied soul were seen. * Bury the dead ; — and weep In stillness o'er the loss ; Bury the dead ; — *[in Christ they sleep, Who bore on earth his cross ; And from the grave their dust shall rise, In his own image to the skies.'] Moderate Ihrce.'f Serenity. [Exemplified in Verse.] Scene after a Tempest. — Bryant. * It was a scene of peace ; — and like a spell, Did that serene and golden sunlight fall -^ Upon the motionless wood that clothed the fell And precipice upspringing like a wall, And glassy river and white waterfall. And happy living things that trod the bright And beauteous scene ; while far beyond them all, On many a lovely valley, out of sight, [lights Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft golden * I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene An emblem of the peace that yet shall be. When, o'er earth's continents and isles between, The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea. And married nations dwell in harmony ; When millions crouching in the dust to one, No more shall beg their lives on bended knee, * The lines within brackets exemplify a change of expression from the subdued voice of pathos to the moderate and cheerful tones of serenity and hope. t The usual degree of force in the unimpassioned style of sentiment. 15 ] 170 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun The o'erlaboured captive toil, and wish his life were done. * Too long, at clash of arms, amid her bowers. And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast, — The fair earth that should only blush with flowers And ruddy fruits ; but not for aye can last The storm, — and sweet the sunshine when 'tis past. Lo ! the clouds roll away ; they break, — they fly ; And, like the glorious light of summer, cast O'er the wide landscape from the embracing sky. On all the peaceful world the smile of heaven shall lie.' Serenity. [Exemplified in Prose.]* Good Intendon. — Addison. * If we apply a good intention to all our actions, we make our very existence one continued act of obedience, we turn even our diversions and amusements to our eternal advantage, and are pleasing Him whom we are made to please, in all the circumstances and occurrences of life. t' It is this excellent frame of mind, this holy officiousness, (if I may be allowed to call it such,) which is recommended to us by the apostle, in that uncommon precept wherein he directs us to propose to ourselves the glory of our Creator, in att our most indifferent actions, " whether we eat, or drink, or whatsoever we do." J' A person who is possessed with an habitual good inten- * The usual style of essays, lectures, expository and practical dis- courses, and other forms of didactic address. t The ordinary rule of elocution prescribes a diminishivg of the force of the voice at the opening of a new paragraph. But when, as in the text, there is a vivid turn of thought introduced, the opposite rule prevails, and the force increases with the momentum of the additional mental impulse. X The usual rule of slackening the tension of voice at the opening of a new paragraph, is exemplified here ; as, in such cases, the train of thought is either resumed, or commenced anew. The force, therefore, is progressive in the sentence. All well composed sentences are naturally read with the growing force of climax. The same remark applies to para- graphs and larger portions of a discourse. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — FORCE. 171 tlon, enters upon no single circumstance of life, without con- sidering it as well pleasing to the great Author of his being, conformable to the dictates of reason, suitable to human na- ture in general, or to that particular station in which Provi- dence has placed him. He lives in the perpetual sense of the Divine presence, regards himself as acting, in the whole course of his existence, under the observation and inspection of that Being who is privy to all his emotions and all his thoughts, who knows his " downsitting and his uprising, who is about his path and about his bed, and spieth out all his ways." In a word, he remembers that the eye of his Judge is always upon him ; and, in every action, he reflects that he is doing what is commanded or allowed by Him who will hereafter either reward or punish it. This was the character of those holy men of old, who, in the beautiful phrase of Scrip- ture, are said to have " walked with God." ' Declamatory Force,* Energetic Emotion. The Slave jTmJe.— Webster. * I deem it my duty, on this occasion, to suggest, that the land is not yet wholly free from the contamination of a traffic at which every feeling of humanity must revolt, — I mean the African slave trade. Neither public sentiment nor the law has yet been able entirely to put an end to this odious and abominable traffic. At the moment when God, in his mercy, has blessed the world with a universal peace, there is reason to fear, that, to the disgrace of the Christian name and charac- ter, new effi:)rts are making for the extension of this trade, by subjects and citizens of Christian States, in whose hearts no sentiment of justice inhabits, and over whom neither the fear of God nor the fear of man exercises a control. In the '* The word * declamatory' is used, in elocution, as the designation of the full, bold style of oratory, in warm and forcible address. The sense thus attached to the word, it will be perceived, is special and technical, merely, and implies no imputation on the character of the sentiment or the language, as in the rhetorical and popular uses of the term. 172 PULPIT ELOCUTION. sight of our law, the African slave trader is a pirate and a felon ; and in the sight of Heaven, an offender far beyond the ordinary depth of human guilt. There is no brighter part of our history, than that which records the measures which have been adopted by the government, at an early day, and at dif- ferent times since, for the suppression of this traffic ; and I would call upon all the true sons of New England, to co- operate with the laws of man and the justice of Heaven. ' If there be, within the extent of our knowledge or influ- ence, any participation in this traffic, let us pledge ourselves here, upon the Rock of Plymouth, to extirpate and destroy it. It is not fit that the land of the pilgrims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound of the hammer — I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those who, by stealth, and at midnight, labour in this work of hell, foul and dark, as may become the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it cease to be of New England. Let it be purified, or let it be set aside from the Christian world ; let it be put out of the circle of human sympathies and human regards ; and let civilized man hence- forth have no communion with it. * I would invoke those who fill the seats of justice, and all who minister at her altar, that they execute the wholesome and necessary severity of the law. I invoke the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its denunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions, to the authority of hu- man law. If the pulpit be silent, whenever or wherever there may be a sinner, bloody with this guilt, within the hearing of its voice, the pulpit is false to its trust.' Impassioned Force.'* Imprecation. Falierd's Dying Curse on Venice. — Byron. * Ye elements ! in which to be resolved I hasten, let my voice be as a spirit * The style in which utterance becomes intense, an greatly trans- ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. FORCE. 173 Upon you ! — Ye blue waves ! which bore my banner, — Ye winds ! which fluttered o'er as if ye loved it, And filled my swelling sails, as they were wafted To many a triumph ! Thou, my native earth. Which I have bled for ! and thou foreign earth, Which drank this willing blood from many a wound ! Ye stones, in which my gore will not sink, but Reek up to heaven ! Ye skies, which will receive it ! - Thou sun ! which shinest on these things, and Thou ! Who kindlest and who quenchest suns ! — attest I I am not innocent — ^but are these guiltless ? I perish, but not unavenged : far ages Float up from the abyss of time to be. And show these eyes, before they close, the doom Of this proud city ; and I leave my curse On her and hers forever. * Then, in the last gasp of thine agony, Amidst thy many murders, think of mine I Thou den of drunkards with the blood of princes ! Gehenna of the waters ! thou sea Sodom ! Thus I devote thee to the infernal gods ! Thee and thy serpent seed I' Shouting.* Exultation. The Exclamations of Tell., on his Escape. — Knowles. *■ Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again ! I hold to you the hands you first beheld, To show they still are free ! cends even the usual energy or vehemence of declamation. This de- gree of force is, generally speaking, restricted to poetry, or to prose of the highest character as to emotion. * This form of voice, although seldom exemplified in actual oratory, unless in vehement address in the open air, is of immense value, as an exercise for invigorating the organs and strengthening the voice, in oro- tund quality. Its effects, when practised a few times daily, for even a few 15* 174 PULPIT ELOCUTION. * Ye guards of liberty, I'm with you once again ! — I call to you "With all my voice ! — I hold my hands to you, To show they still are free !' Calling.* [As in the case of the greatest distance between the speaker and the hearers. ] Command. The Herald's Message. — Shakspeare. ^ Rejoice ye men of Anglers ! Ring your bells ! Open your gates, and give the victors way !' EXERCISES IN ' STRESS.' * Stress' may be briefly defined as the term used in elocu- tion to designate the mode and the place of forming the maximum of force in a single sound. Thus, in the appropri- ate utterance of some emotions, the force of the voice bursts out suddenly, with a percussive explosion ; as in angry com- mand, in which vocal sound is intended to vent the passion of the speaker, and to startle and terrify the hearer. An example occurs in the burst of fierceness and wrath with which Death replies to Satan : ^Bach to thy punishment, false fugitive !' We may contrast with this form of stress the gen- tle swell of reverence and adoration^ in the devotional language of Adam and Eve in their morning hymn, in paradise : ' Hail! universal Lord !' The utterance of the word ' Bach,' in the former instance, exemplifies 'explosive' 'radical' (initial) weeks, are such as to impart great volume and power of utterance to persons wlio commence the exercise with weak organs and imperfect tone. * The effect of this exercise is to give compactness, and clearness, and purity of tone, to the utmost extent of voice. The call, although rising to a high note, with great loudness, should always be kept perfectly vocal or musical in its sound, resembling the easy, smooth effect of the loudest singing, in its gradual and skilful swell. It is nothing else than the maximum of ^pure^ or ^head tone.' ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — 'STRESS.* 175 ' stress/ which bursts out, with percussive abruptness, on the initial or first part of the sound ; that of the word ' Hail,' in the latter, ' median,' (middle,) as gently swelling out to its maximum on the middle of the sound, whence it diminishes to the end or ' vanish.' Another mode of stress, — termed ' van- ishing,' — witholds the abrupt explosion till the last particle (so to speak,) of the impassioned sound, and then throws it out with a wrenching and jerking violence on the very * van- ish,' or last audible point of voice. This form of stress oc- curs in the tones of ungovernable impatience, deep, determined will, and excessive or inconsolable grief. Of the first of these emotions we have an example in the mad impatience of Queen Constance, when protesting against the peace between France and England, which was to sacrifice the rights of her son. ' War ! war ! — no peace ! Peace is to me a war !' Of the second we have an instance in the reply of the Swiss deputy to Charles the Bold, when he is announcing to the Duke the final determination of the cantons to resist, to the last, the invasion of their rights. ' Sooner than submit we will starve in the icy wastes of the glaciers !' Of the third, in the Psalmist's exclamation, * My Grod ! my Grod ! why hast thou forsaken me ?' A fourth mode of stress unites the * radical and the van- ishing' on the same syllable, by an abrupt jerk of force on the Jirst and last portions of the impassioned sound. This is the natural expression of astotiishme?it, and is displayed with pe- culiar vividness, when the speaker reiterates the words of another person. An example occurs in the exclamation of Queen Constance, when she hears, for the first time, of the conditions of the peace between France and England, and re- peats the words of the messenger. ' Gone to be married f — gone to swear a peace /' A fifth form of stress, — peculiar to intense emotions, — throws out the voice, with the utmost force, on all the points of a sound which admit of being rendered conspicuous or prominent, — the beginning the middle and the end. This mode of utterance in emphatic syllables, is, from its pervading 175 PULPIT ELOCUTION. effect, termed * thorough' stress. It is exemplified in the shout of defiance, with which Fitz-James addresses the band of Roderic Dhu, ' Come one, come all ! This rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.'* Impassioned ' Radical Stress.* Bold, angry, and threatening Command. [Abrupt, explosive style of utterance.] Satari's Address to Death. — Milton. * Whence, and what art thou ? execrable shape ! That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated front athwart mj way To yonder gates ? Through them I mean to pass, That be assured, — without leave asked of thee. Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof. Hell-born ! not to contend with spirits of heaven !' Courageous Sentiment and Eloquent Address. [Energetic expulsive style.]t Supposed Speech of John Adams. — Webster. * Read the declaration of our independence at the head of the array, — every sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered, to maintain it, or to perish on the bed of honour. Publish it from the pulpit, — religion will ap- prove it ; and the love of religious liberty will cling round it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls, — proclaim it there, — ^let them hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's cannon, — let them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington and Concord ; — and the very walls will cry out in its support !' * The explanations and examples given in the text, will, it is thought, serve to render the requisite distinctions plain. But fuller statements may be referred to in Dr. Rush's Philosophy of the Voice, or in the man- ual of Orthophony. t A vivid initial force, without abruptness or violence. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. * STRESS.' 177 JJnimpassioned ' Radical StressJ* Earnestness and elevation of Thought. The Progress of Discovery. — Everett. * Are the properties of matter all discovered ? — its laws all found out ? — the uses to which they may be applied, all de- tected ? I cannot believe it. — The progress which has been made in art and science, is, indeed, vast. We are ready to think that a pause must follow, that the goal must be at hand. But there is no goal, and there can be no pause ; for art and science are in themselves progressive. They are moving powers, animated principles : they are instinct with life ; they are themselves the intellectual life of man. Nothing can ar- rest them, which does not plunge the entire order of society into barbarism. There is no end to truth, no bound to its discovery and application, and a man might as well think to build a tower, from the top of which he could grasp Sirius in his hand, as prescribe a limit to discovery and invention.* ^Median Stress.* Solemnity and Reverence. Adoration offered by the Angels. — Milton. * Thee, Father, first they sung, omnipotent, Immutable, immortal, infinite. Eternal King ; thee. Author of all being, Fountain of light, thyself invisible Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt'st, Throned inaccessible, but when thou shad'st The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud, Drawn round about thee, like a radiant shrine. * This style, though utterly free from impassioned vehemence, pre- serves the abrupt explosive opening of sound, to the extent required by distinct articulation, for vivid intellectual impression. The effect to the ear is like that, comparatively, of the clear tinkle of the falling icicle, or of the drop of rain, — a moderate, but remarkably clear sound. 178 ' PULPIT ELOCUTION. Dark with excessive bright, thy skirts appear, Yet dazzle heaven, that brightest seraphim Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes/ Pathos. Extract from Psalm CIII. V. 13. * Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 14. For he knoweth our frame ; he remembereth that we are dust. 15. As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field so he flourisheth. 16. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone j and the place thereof shall know it no more.' Tranquillity. Psalm XXIII. V. 1. * The Lord is my shepherd : I shall not want. 2. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures : he leadeth me be- side the still waters. 3. He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness, for his name's sake. 4. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies : thou anointest my head with oil ; my cup runneth over. 6. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me, all the days of my life ; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.* * Vanishing Stress.' Complaint. Job's Reply to his Friends. — Job XIX. V. 2. * How long will ye vex my soul, and break me in pieces with words ? 3. These ten times have ye reproached me : ye are not ashamed that ye make yourselves strange to me. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — * STRESS.* 179 6. * Know, now, that God hath overthrown me, and hath compassed me with his net. 7. Behold, I cry out of wrong, but I am not heard : I cry aloud, but there is no judgment. 8. He hath fenced up my way that I cannot pass, and he hath set darkness in my paths. 9. He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the crown from my head. 10. He hath de- stroyed me, on every side, and I am gone ; and my hope hath he removed like a tree.' Denunciation. Extract from Isaiah XXXIV. V. 5. * My sword shall be bathed in heaven : behold, it shall come down upon Idumea, and upon the people of my curse to judgment. 9. And the streams thereof shall be turned into pitch, and the dust thereof into brimstone, and the land thereof shall become burning pitch. 10. It shall not be quenched night nor day ; the smoke thereof shall go up for ever : from generation to generation it shall be waste ; none shall pass through it for ever and ever.' ^ Compound Stress.' Interrogation. Extract from Job XLI. V. 1. * Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down ? 2. Canst thou put a hook into his nose ? or bore his jaw through with a thorn? 3. Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee ? 4. Will he make a cove- nant with thee ? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever ? 5. Wilt thou play with him as with a bird ? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens ?' Extracts from I. Corinthians XII. Chapter. y. 15. If the foot shall say. Because I am not the hand, I I am not of the body ; is it therefore not of the body ? 1 6. And 180 PULPIT ELOCUTION. if the ear shall say, Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body ; is it therefore not of the body ? 29. < Are all apostles ? are all prophets ? are all teachers ? are all workers of miracles ? 30. Have all the gifts of heal- ing ? do all speak with tongues ? do all interpret ?' * Thorough Stress* Vehement Denunciation. Extract from Isaiah XXYIIl. V. 1. * Wo to the crown of pride, to the drunkards of Eph- raim, whose glorious beauty is a fading flower, which are on the head of the fat valleys of them that are overcome with wine ! 2. Behold, the Lord hath a mighty and strong one, which, as a tempest of hail and a destroying storm, as a flood of mighty waters overflowing, shall cast down to the earth with the hand. 3. The crown of pride, the drunkards of Ephraim, shall be trodden under feet.' Joyous Command. Extract from Isaiah LII. V. 1. * Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion ; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city : for henceforth there shall no more come into thee the uncircum- cised and the unclean. 2. Shake thyself from the dust ; arise, and sit down, O Jerusalem : loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.' Indignant Rebuke. Extract from Isaiah I. V. 10. * Hear the word of the Lord, ye rulers of Sodom : give ear unto the law of our God, ye people of Gomorrah. 11. To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me ? saith the Lord : I am full of the burnt-offerings of rams, and the fat of fed beasts ; and I delight not in the blood of ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ' STRESS.' 181 bullocks, or of lambs, or of he-goats. 12. When ye come to appear before me,, who hath required this at your hand, to tread my courts? 13. Bring no more vain oblations: in- cense is an abomination unto me ; the new-moons and sab-- baths, the calling of assemblies, I cannot away with ; it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting. 14. Your new-moons^ and your appointed feasts my soul hateth : they are a trouble' unto me; I am weary to bear them. 15. And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you; yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your- hands are full of blood.' Courage and Energy. Stanzas of a Jwrtatory Hymn. * Awake, my soul ! — stretch every nerve, And press with vigour on : A heavenly race demands thy zeal, A bright, immortal crown. * 'Tis God's all-animating voice That calls thee from on high ; 'Tis his own hand presents the prize To thine aspiring eye.' EXERCISES IN PITCH. Middle Pitch* Emotion progressive from Seriousness to Cheerfulness and Animation^ Hope. — Addison. * No life is so happy as that which is full of hope, especially when the hope is well-grounded, and when the object of it i» of an exalted kind, and in its nature proper to make the per- * The average level of the voice in public reading or speaking, — in the form of lectures, practical and doctrinal discourses, and unimpassioned address, — a pitch somewhat lower than the middle notes of conversation j as the former implies graver tone. 16 182 PULPIT ELOCUTION. son happy, who enjoys it. This proposition must be self-evi- dent to those who consider how few are the present enjoy- ments of the most happy man, and how insufficient to give him an entire satisfaction and acquiescence in them. *' My next observation is this ; that a religious life is that which most abounds in a well-grounded hope, and such a one as is fixed on objects that are capable of making us en- tirely happy. This hope, in a rehgious man, is much more sure and certain than the hope of any temporal blessing ; as it is strengthened not only by reason but by faith. It has, at * The new pitch with which every new paragraph properly com- mences, is a point of the greatest moment in elocution, as deciding the natural and appropriate style of reading, and distinguishing it from that which is mechanical and unimpi'essive. True reading causes the para- graphs of a piece, and the heads of a discourse, to indicate the change which is taking place in the current and direction of the thought. Every new topic, subordinate, as well as pi-incipal, requires a new shade of voice, in pitch, as higher or lower than the average tone of the preceding paragi-aph. The same remark applies to single sentences. The com- mon fault, derived from school habits, is to rise to a new and higher pitch, at the beginning of every sentence or paragraph, and gradually fall in the successive clauses or sentences. Correct reading varies the pitch according to the connection existing between sentences, and com- mences on the low note of the cadence of the preceding sentence or par- agraph, when the sense is continuous or analogous, but rises to a new and a higher strain, only when there is a new, a distinct, or an opposite thought in the new sentence or paragraph. On the other hand, a new sentence or paragraph, opening with a graver mood of sentiment, begins, properly, with a lower pitch than, perhaps, even the cadence of the pre- ceding context. The opening of a new paragraph should, generally, be lower in pitch than the strain of utterance in the preceding part of a discourse. But when, as in the example to which the present note refers, the speaker in- timates, in the beginning of a paragraph, the plan or order of his dis- course, the voice is higher in pitch, as well as slacker in force ; so as to keep the main subject of address distinct from the parenthetical allu- sions to the speaker's train of thought for the time. The practical rule of elocution, for the commencing pitch of paragraphs is, usually. Begin anew ; 1. e. Slacken the force, lower the pitch, and retard the rate of the voice. This rule is founded on the obvious principle that it is not till progress has been made in a sentence or paragraph, that the new impulse of thought is felt in the fprce, pitch, and movement of the voice. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. PITCH. 188 the same time, its eye perpetually fixed on that state which implies, in the very notion of it, the most full and the most complete happiness. ** Religious hope does not only bear up the mind, under sufferings, but makes her rejoice in them, as they may be the instruments of procuring her the great and ultimate end of all her hope. Religious hope has likewise this advantage above any other kind of hope, that it is able to revive the dying man, and to fill his mind not only with comfort, but with rap- ture and transport. He triumphs in his agonies, while the soul springs forward with delight to the great object which she has always had in view, and leaves the body with an ex- pectation of being re-united to it in a glorious and joyful res- urrection.* Low Pitch. Grave Emotion. Man is horn to Trouble. — Finlajson. * That no man can promise to himself perpetual exemp- tion from suffering, is a truth obvious to daily observation. Nay, amid the shiftings of the scene in which we are placed, who can say that, for one hour, his happiness is secure ? The openings through which we may be assailed, are so numerous and unguarded, that the very next moment may see some message of pain piercing the bulwarks of our peace. Our- body may become the seat of incurable disease. Our mind may become a prey to unaccountable and imaginary fears. Our fortune may sink in some of those revolutionary tem- pests which overwhelm so often the treasures of the wealthy. Our honours may wither on our brow, blasted by the slander- ous breath of an enemy. Our friends may prove faithless in the hour of need, or they may be separated from us for ever. Our children, the fondest hope of our hearts, may be torn from us in their prime ; or they may wound us still more deeply by their undutifulness and misconduct. * An example of the usual lower pitch of a new paragraph. 184 PULPIT ELOCUTION. * Alas ! my brother of the dust, in this uncertainty of world- ly blessings, where is the joy on earth, in which thou canst repose thy confidence? or what defence canst thou rear against the inroads of adversity ? Dost thou hope that by rising to power, or by increasing thy goods, thou wilt insure the continuance of thy comfort ? Vain man ! hast thou not seen that the loftiest mountain meets first the lightnings of the sky, and that the spreading tree, when loaded with the glories of its foliage and fruit, is most easily broken by the fu- ry of the blast ? In this manner, the children of this world, by multiplying their stores and extending their connections, furnish a broader mark to the arrows of misfortune, and with the greater certainty suffer disappointment and sorrow.' Sublime Emotion. The "Works and Attributes of God. — Moodie. * All vast and unmeasurable objects are fitted to impress the soul with awe. The mountain which rises above the neighbouring hills, and hides its head in the sky, — the sound- ing, unfathomed, boundless deep, — the expanse of Heaven, where, above and around, no limit checks the wondering eye ; — these objects fill and elevate the mind, — they produce a sol- emn frame of spirit, which accords with the sentiment of re- ligion. From the contemplation of what is great and magnificent in nature, the soul rises to the Author of all. We think of the time which preceded the birth of the universe, when no being existed but God alone. While unnumbered systems arise in order before us, created by his power, arranged by his wisdom, and filled with his presence, — the earth and the sea, with all that they contain, are hardly beheld amidst the immensity of his works. In the boundless subject the soul is lost. It is he who " sitteth on the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers. He weigheth the mountains in scales. He taketh up the isles as a very little thing." " Lord, what is man that thou art mindful of him !" ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — ^PITCH. 185 * The face of nature is sometimes clothed with terror. The tempest overturns the cedars of Lebanon, or discloses the se- crets of the deep. The pestilence wastes, — the lightning consumes, — the voice of the thunder is heard on high. Let these appearances be connected with the power of God. These are the awful ministers of his kingdom. " The Lord reigneth, let the people tremble. Who would not fear thee, O King of nations ! By the greatness of thy power thine enemies are constrained to bow." * Pathetic Emotion. Autumnal Meditation instructive to the Aged. — ^Alison, * There is an eventide in human life, a season when the eye becomes dim, and the strength decays, and when the winter of age begins to shed upon the human head its prophetic snow. It is the season of life to which autumn is most anal- ogous ; and much it becomes, and much it would profit you, to mark the instructions which the season brings. The spring and the summer of your days are gone, and with them, not only the joys they knew, but many of the friends who gave them. You have entered upon the autumn of your be- ing ; and whatever may have been the profusion of your spring, or the warm intemperance of your summer, there is yet a season of stillness and of solitude, which the beneficence of Heaven affords you, in which you may meditate upon the past and the future, and prepare yourselves for the mighty change which you are soon to undergo. * If it be thus you have the wisdom to use the decaying season of nature, it brings with it consolations more valuable than all the enjoyments of former days. In the long retro- spect of your journey, you have seen every day the shades of the evening fall, and every year the clouds of winter gather. But you have seen also, every succeeding day, the morning arise in its brightness, and in every succeeding year, the spring return to renovate the winter of nature. It is now you may understand the magnificent language of Heaven,-— it 16* 186 PULPIT ELOCUTION. mingles its voice with that of revelation, — it summons you, in these hours when the leaves fall, and the winter is gather- ing, to that evening study which the mercy of Heaven has provided in the book of salvation ; and while the shadowy valley opens which leads to the abode of death, it speaks of that Hand which can comfort and can save, and which can conduct to those " green pastures, and those still waters," where there is an eternal spring for the children of God.' Grave, Sublime, and Pathetic Emotions. Marathon and Athens. — ^Byron. * Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground ; No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould ! But one vast realm of wonder spreads around ; And all the Muse's tales seem truly told. Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold, Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone : Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon. * Yet to the remnants of thy splendour past, Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied, throng ; Long shall the voyager, with the Ionian blast. Hail the bright clime of battle and of song ; Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore ; Boast of the aged ! lesson of the young ! Which sages venerate and bards adore. As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore. * Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where. Where are thy men of might ? thy grand in soul ? Gone — glimmering through the dream of things that were. First in the race that led to Glory's goal. They won, and passed away — Is this the whole ? A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour ! ELEMENTAEY EXERCISES. PITCH. 187 The warrior's weapon and the sophist's state Are sought in vain ; and o'er each mouldering tower, Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power/ Lowest Pitch. Solemnity, Awe, and Reverence. Devotion. — Young. * thou great Arbiter of life and death ! Nature's immortal, immaterial sun ! Whose all-prolific beam late called me forth From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay The worm's inferior ; and, in rank, beneath The dust I tread on ; high to bear my brow, To drink the spirit of the golden day. And triumph in existence ; and couldst know No motive but my bliss ; and hast ordained A rise in blessing ! with the Patriarch's joy Thy call I follow to the land unknown ; I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust : Or life or death is equal : neither weighs ; All weight in this — Oh ! let me live to thee !' Meditation. — Id. ' How is Night's sable mantle laboured o'er, How richly wrought with attributes divine ! What wisdom shines ! what love ! This midnight pomp, This gorgeous arch with golden worlds inlaid ! Built with divine ambition ! — nought to Thee, — For others this profusion. — Thou, apart. Above, beyond. Oh ! tell me, mighty Mind ! Where art thou ? — shall I dive into the deep ? Call to the sun ? or ask the roaring winds For their Creator ? Shall I question loud The thunder, if in that the Almighty dwells ? Or holds He furious storms in straitened reins, And bids fierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car "i 188 PULPIT ELOCUTION. * What mean these questions ? — Trembling I retract My prostrate soul adores the present God !' Sublimity and Awe. Extract from Psalm XVIII. V. 7. * Then the earth shook and trembled ; thfe founda- tions also of the hills moved and were shaken, because He was wroth. 8. There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, and fire out of his mouth devoured : coals were kindled by it 9. He bowed the heavens also, and came down ; and dark- ness was under his feet. 10. And he rode upon a cherub and did fly : yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. 11. He made darkness his secret place ; his pavilion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies. 12. At the brightness that was before him his thick clouds passed, hailstones and coals of fire. 13. The Lord also thun- dered in the heavens, and the Highest gave his voice ; hail- stones and coals of fire. 14. Yea, he sent out his arrows, and scattered them ; and he shot out lightnings, and discom- fited them. 15. Then the channels of waters were seen, and the foundations of the world were discovered at thy rebuke, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of thy nostrils.' Deep Grief. Extract from Jeremiah. IX. Chap. V. 1. ' Oh ! that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people ! 2. Oh ! that I had in the wilderness a lodging-place of way-faring men, that I might leave my people and go from them ! for they be all adulte- rers, an assembly of treacherous men.' Despondency and Despair. Extract from Job. XVII. Chap. V. 11. 'My days are past; my purposes are broken off, even the thoughts of my heart. 12. They change the night ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ^PITCH. 189 into day ; the light is short because of the darkness. 13. If I wait, the grave is my house : I have made my bed in dark- ness. 14. I have said to corruption, Thou art my father : to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister. 15. And where is now my hope ? as for my hope who shall see it ? 16. They shall go down to the bars of the pit, when our rest together is in the dust.' Awe and Horror. Stanzas of a Death Hymn. — Scott. * That day of wrath ! that dreadful day, "When heaven and earth shall pass away ! What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day, — * When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll ; And louder yet, and yet more dread. Swells the high trump that wakes the dead?' High Pitch* Joy. Sympathy of Departed Spirits with Humanity. — Finlayson. ' What a delightful subject of contemplation does the thought of such sympathy open to the pious and benevolent mind ! What a spring does it give to all the better energies of the heart! Your labours of love, your plans of beneficence, your swellings of satisfaction in the rising reputation of those whose virtues you have cherished, will not, we have reason to hope, be terminated by the stroke of death. No ! your spirits will still linger around the objects of their former at- * The ' high' pitch of sacred eloquence is, from the solemnity of asso- ciation, lower in its note, than that of ordinary oratorical style. It rises but little above the middle tones of the voice. It requires, however, on this account, to be the more carefully observed, that the proper distinc- tions of utterance may not be lost. im PULPIT ELOCUTION. tachment. They will behold with rapture even the distant effects of those beneficent institutions which they once de- lighted to rear ; they will watch, with a pious satisfaction, over the growing prosperity of the country which they loved ; with a parent's fondness, and a parent's exultation, they will share in the fame of their virtuous posterity ; and, by the permis- sion of God, they may descend, at times, as guardian angels, to shield them from danger, and to conduct them to glory. * Of all the thoughts that can enter the human mind, this is one of the most animating and consolatory. It scatters flowers around the bed of death. It enables us who are left behind, to support with firmness the departure of our best be- loved friends ; because it teaches us that they are not lost to us for ever. They are still our friends. Though they be now gone to another apartment in our Father's house, they have carried with them the remembrance and the feeling of their former attachments. Though invisible to us, they bend from their dwelling on high to cheer us in our pilgrimage of duty, to rejoice with us in our prosperity, and, in the hour of virtuous exertion, to shed through our souls the blessedness of heaven.' Joy. Extracts from Isaiah LX. V. 1. * Arise, shine ; for thy hght is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. 2. For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people : but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. 3. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising. 4. Lift up thine eyes round about, and see : all they gather themselves together, they come to thee : thy sons shall come from far, and thy daugh- ters shall be nursed at thy side.' 13. ' The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir- tree, the pine-tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary ; and I will make the place of my feet glo- rious. 14. The sons also of them that afflicted thee shall ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — PITCH. 191 come bending unto thee ; and all they that despised thee shall bow themselves down at the soles of thy feet ; and they shall call thee the city of the Lord, The Zion of the Holy One of Israel. 15. Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations.' Consolation. Extracts from Isaiah LXI. V. 1. * The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me ; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek ; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound ; 2. To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God ; to comfort all that mourn ; 3. To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourn- ing, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness ; that they might be called Trees of righteousness, The planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.' Triumph. Stanzas from a Hymn on the Advent. * Hark ! — the herald angels sing, " Glory to the new-born king ! Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled !" * Joyful all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies ; With the angelic host proclaim, " Christ is born in Bethlehem !" ^ Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace ! Hail the Sun of Righteousness ! Light and life„to all he brings. Risen with healing in his wings T 192 PULPIT ELOCUTIOK. Earnest and Tender Emotion.* Hymn of Invitation. — Colly er. * Return, O wanderer — now return ! And seek thy Father's face ! Those new desires which in thee burn, Were kindled by his grace. * Eeturn, O wanderer — now return ! He hears thy humble sigh : He sees thy softened spirit mourn, When no one else is nigh. ^ Return, O wanderer — now return ! Thy Saviour bids thee live : Go to his feet, — and grateful learn How freely he'll forgive. ' Return, O wanderer — now return ! And wipe the falling tear : Thy Father calls — no longer mourn ! 'Tis love invites thee near.' EXERCISES IN ' INELECTION.'t Impassioned Inflection. Interrogation. (Admitting of a positive or a negative Answer.) Indignation and Astonishment. [Highest ascent of Rising Inflection, or Upward Slide.]f * Shall the work say of him that made it, He made me not ? or shall the thing framed say of him that framed it, He had no understanding ?' * Pathos and Tenderness are expressed by a high though softened tone. t The analysis of inflection may, at the option of individuals, be studied in practical forms, as laid down in the ' Elocutionist,' or scientifically, as in the ' Orthophony.' The exercises in the present volume, are restricted to the application of prominent principles. X ' Upward Concrete' of an Octave,— on the system of Dr. Rush. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ' INFLECTION.* 193 * Can a man be profitable unto God, as he that is wise may be profitable to himself? Is it any pleasure to the Almighty that thou art righteous ? or is it gain to him, that thou makest thy way perfect ? Will he reprove thee for fear of thee ? will he enter with thee into judgment ?' * Jesus ! and shall it ever be — A mortal man ashamed of thee ? Ashamed of thee, — whom angels praise ? Whose glories shine through endless days ?' Apostrophe. Indignant Appeal. [Lowest descent of Falling Inflection, or Downward Slide.* * Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth : for the Lord hath spoken, I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. — -'Ah! sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evil doers, children that are corrupters !' Vehement Denunciation. * W6 unto them that call evil good, and good evil ; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness ; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter ! Wo unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight ! Wo unta them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink T Kemonstrance and Expostulation. Indignant Address. [Example of boldest Upward and Downward Slides.] * Is it such a fast that I have chosen ? a day for a man ta afliict his soul ? Is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him ? wilt thou call this * 'Downward Concrete' of an Octave, — on the system of Dr. Rush. 17 194 PULPIT ELOCUTION. a fast and an acceptable day unto the Lord ? — Is not this* the fast that I have chosen ? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke ? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house ? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him ; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh ? Vivid or lamest Inflection. Argumentation. Discussion. [High ascent of Rising Inflection, or Upward Slide. ]t * Know ye not, brethren, (for I speak to them that know the law,) how that the law hath dominion over a man as long as he liveth ? < AVhat then ? shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace ? God forbid. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey ; whether of sin unto death, or of obe- dience unto righteousness ?* Exclamation. Admiration. [Low descent of Falling Inflection, or Downward Slide.] J * Oh ! the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out ! For who hath known the mind of the Lord, or who hath been his counsellor ? Or who hath first given to him, and it shall be recompensed unto him again ? For of him, and through him, and to him are all things : to whom be glory for ever. Amen !' * Interrogation, in the form of remonstrance or expostulation, adopts the downward slide, as do all other emphatic forms of language. t ' Upward Concrete' of a ' Fifth,' — in the nomenclature of Dr. Rush. J ' Downward Concrete' of a ' Fifth' ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. * INFLECTION.' 195 Hortatory Injunction or Command. Earnest and Autlioritative Address. [Inflection as in the preceding examples.] < If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath : for it is written. Vengeance is mine : 'I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine ene- my hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink : for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. — Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God : the powers that be are ordained of God.* Assurance. Emphatic Assertion. [Inflection as before.] * I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.* Exclamation. — Gratitude. [Inflection as before.] * Father of mercies, in thy word What endless glory shines ! For ever be thy name adored For these celestial lines \ * Here may the wretched sons of want Exhaustless riches find, — Riches beyond what earth can grant, And lasting as the mind.' Exclamation. — Exultation. [Inflection as before.] ' Sing, O ye heavens ; for the Lord hath done it : shout, ye lower parts of the. earth: break forth into singing, ye 196 PULPIT ELOCUTION. mountains, O forest, and every tree therein : for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob, and glorified himself in Israel !' Scorn. Extract from Isaiah XLIV. V. 9. * They that make a graven image are all of them vaLnity ; and their delectable things shall not profit ; and they are their own witnesses ; they see not, nor know, that they may be ashamed. 10. Who hath formed a god, or molten a graven image, that is profitable for nothing? 11. Behold, all his fellows shall be ashamed : and the workmen, they are of men : let them all be gathered together, let them stand iip ; yet they shall fear, and they shall be ashamed together. 12. The smith with the tongs both worketh in the coals, and fashioneth it with hammers, and worketh it with the strength of his arms : yea, he is hungry, and his strength faileth : he drinketh no water, and is faint. 13. The carpenter stretch- eth out his rule : he marketh it out with a line ; he fitteth it out with planes, and he marketh it out with the compass, and maketh it after the figure of a man, according to the beauty of a man; that it may remain in the house. 14. Hehewethhim down cedars, and taketh the cypress and the oak, which hei strengtheneth for himself among the trees of the forest : he planteth an oak, and the rain doth nourish it. 15. Then shall it be for a man to burn : for he will take thereof, and warm himself; yea, he kindleth it, and baketh bread ; yea, he maketh a god, and worshippeth it ; he maketh it a graven image, and faileth down thereto. 16. He burneth part thereof in the fire ; with part thereof he eateth flesh ; he roasteth roast, and is satisfied; yea, he warraeth himself, and saith, Aha ! I am warm, I have seen the fire : 17. And the residue thereof he maketh a god, even his graven image : he faileth down unto it, and worshippeth it, and prayeth unto it, and saith, Deliver me, for thou art my god. 18. They have not known nor under- stood: for he hath shut their eyes that they cannot see ; and their hearts, that they cannot understand. 19. And none con- ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ' INFLECTION.* 197 sideretli in his heart, neither is there knowledge nor under- standing to say, I have burned part of it in the fire ; yea, also, I have baked bread upon the coals thereof; I have roasted flesh, and eaten it: and shall I make the residue thereof an abomination ? shall I fall down to the stock of a tree ? 20. He feedeth on ashes : a deceived heart hath turned him aside, that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, Is there not a lie* in my right hand ?' Contrasted Interrogations. [Inflections exemplifying botti Slides.] * And thinkest thou this, O man, that judgest them which do such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God "^ Or despisest thou the riches of his good- ness, and forbearance, and long-suflfering ; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance ?' Moderate Inflection. '\ [Rising Inflection, or Upward Slide.] Unimpassioned or Unemphatic Interrogation. * Have ye understood all these things ?* ^ Know ye what I have done to you ?' * Is it well with thee "^ Is it well with thy husband ? Is it well with the child ?' Suspended, or Incomplete sense. * And if some of the branches be broken oflP, and thou, be- ing a wild olive-tree, wert graifed in among them, and with them partakest of the root and fatness of the olive-tree ; boast not against the branches/ * Inconstant service we repay. And treacherous vows renew ; As false as morning's scattering cloud, And transient as the dew.' * Downward slide of emphatic expression. t Upward or Downward ' Concrete,' or slide, of a ' Third.' 17* 198 PULPIT ELOCUTION. LFalling Inflection, or Downward Slide.] Completed Sense. "■ All things are lawful unto me ; but all things are not ex- pedient: all things are lawful for me; but I will not be brought under the dominion of any.' * Render therefore to all their dues : tribute to whom trib- ute is due; custom to whom custom; fear to whom fear; honour to whom honour. > * Having, then, gifts, differing according to the grace that is given to us, whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith ; or ministry, let us wait on our minis- tering ; or he that teacheth, on teaching ; or he that exhorteth, on exhortation ; he that giveth, let him do it with simplicity ; he that ruleth, with diligence ; he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness.' * Great God, thy penetrating eye Pervades my inmost powers : With awe profound my wondering soul Falls prostrate, and adores !' [Inflections exemplifying both Slides.] Correspondence and Contrast, * Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.* < Now if we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him.' * For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection.' < To be carnally minded is death ; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.' * We are fools for Christ's sake, but ye are wise in" Christ ; we are weak, but ye are strong ; ye are honourable, but we are despised.' * Now to him that worketh, is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. But to him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness.' * The common error, in contrasts, is that of a double slide, or circum- flex, instead of the single upward or downward transit. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. * INFLECTION.' 199 Slight Inflections.* Upward Slide. Intemtpted Sense. ' Oh ! bind this heart— This roving heart — to thee !' * Oh ! may his love — immortal flame ! — Tune every heart and tongue !' Poetic Effecf\ *■ Nor air, nor earth, nor skies, nor seas, Deny the tribute of their praise.* * Eternal Wisdom, thee we praise, Thee all thy creatures sing ; "While with thy name, rocks, hills, and seas, And heaven's high palace ring. * Thy glories blaze all nature round, And strike the gazing sight. Through skies, and seas, and solid ground, With terror and delight.' * Foolish fears, and fond desires, Vain regrets for things as vain, Lips too seldom taught to praise, Oft to murmur and complain ; — * These, — and every secret fault, Filled with grief and shame, we own.' =* These extend no farther on the scale than the interval of a ' Second,'— a single tone, or the space occupied by the transit of the voice from one note to the next above or below. Pathetic expression reduces them to the ' semitone.' t Verse, and even poetic prose, require the comparatively melodious effect of the ' slight' inflection, in unemphatic ' series' or sequences, of words and clauses which are comprehended under one and the same rule of syntax. 200 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ^Monotone'* Sublimity and Awe. Extract from Revelation XX. V. 11. * And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away ; and there was found no place for them. 12. And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God ; and the books were opened : and another book was opened, which is the book of life : and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. 1 3. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it ; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them : and they were judged every man according to their works.' Stanzas. * His voice is heard the earth around, When through the heavens his thunders roll ; The troubled ocean hears the sound, And yields itself to his control. * When he upon the lightning rides. His voice in loudest thunder speaks ; The fiery element divides, And earth to its deep centre shakes.' * Double Slide/ ' Circumflex' or ' Wave J Mockery. * And Elijah mocked the priests of Baal, and said. Cry aloud ;t for he is a god :| either he is talking, or he is pur- * Rigorous analysis may enable an attentive ear to detect the ' Second,' in the ' monotone,' so called. But the characteristic effect on the ear, by the recurrence of the same note, is that of strict monotone or sameness of sound, — as in the successive sounds of a bell, compared with those of any other instrument of music. t ' Falling Circumflex,' or ' Direet Wave,' in which there is first an * Upward,' then a ' Downward Slide.' X 'Rising Circumflex,' or ' Indirect Wave,' in which there is first a ' Downward' then an ' Upward' slide of voice. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ^INFLECTION.' 201 suing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and must be awaked.'* EXERCISES IN ' MOVEMENT.' The word ' movement' has properly the same application in elocution as in music. It designates the rate of utterance, as slow, fast, or moderate, and implies the recognition of ' time,' as an element of effect, in the modifications of the voice. * Movement,' in elocution, has not the strict gradations of mu- sic ; and, in its applications to reading and speaking in the pulpit, is usually limited to the following degrees, — ' slowest,* * slow,' ' moderate,' ' lively.' The first mentioned of these distinctions, is exemplified in the style of awe and deep solemnity, which prevails in the utterance of the profoundest emotions of the soul. It occurs in many passages of the Old Testament, in which the lan- guage is of a marked poetic character, as in the book of Job, the Psalms, and portions of the prophetic writings. It per- vades, also, the peculiar style of the Book of Revelation, in the New Testament. The * slowest movement' characterizes likewise the poetry of Milton and of Young, and, sometimes, that of Cowper and of Thomson. It belongs appropriately to the reading of those hymns which describe the awful ma- jesty of Jehovah, and to those which imbody the ideas of death, retribution, and eternity. It is the peculiarly distinctive point of style in funeral discourses. The full command over the movement of the voice, is an indispensable requisite to the proper effect of the utterance of devotion, whether in the reading of psalms and hymns, or in the act of prayer. The following exercises should be fre- quently practised till the full solemnity of the slowest enuncia- * The exemplifications of inflection, in detail, may be found in either of the manuals before mentioned. Those which are presented in the present work, are such as are most frequently required in the reading of the Scriptures and of hymns, or of pulpit discourses. 202 PULPIT ELOCUTION. tion is attained, in that prolonged, though not drawling style, which gives ample scope and majestic effect to every sound of the voice, and causes every element of speech to succeed another in the most impressive and deliberate style. The language of reverence and awe, demands space for feeling and imagination, in every characteristic sound. A single devotional exclamation ought, sometimes, to convey the whole heart and soul of the speaker, in one element of sound. * Slowest Movement.* Awe. Immortality. — Young. * Thou ! whose all providential eye surveys, Whose hands directs, whose spirit fills and warms Creation, and holds empire far beyond ! Eternity's Inhabitant august ! Of two eternities amazing Lord ! — One past, ere man's or angel's had begun ; Aid ! while I rescue from the foe's assault Thy glorious immortality in man : A theme for ever, and for all, of weight, Of moment infinite !' Profound Solemnity. Midnight . — Thomson. * As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds, Slow-meeting, mingle into solid gloom. Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep. Let me associate with the serious Night, And Contemplation, her sedate compeer.' * Father of light and life, thou Good supreme ! Oh ! teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself ! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice. From every low pursuit ; and feed my soul ELEMENTARY EXERCISES.—* MOVEMENT.* 203 With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss !' Reverence and Awe. Stanzas. — ^Needham. * Holy and reverend is the name Of our eternal King ; " Thrice holy Lord," the angels cry — " Thrice holy," let us sing ! < The deepest reverence of the mind, Pay, O my soul, to God ; Lift, with thy hands, a holy heart, To his subUme abode !' Awe. Extract from Psalm XC V. 2. * Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from ever- lasting to everlasting, thou art God. 3. Thou turnest man to destruction ; and sayest. Return, ye children of men. 4. For a thousand years, in thy sight, are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night. 5. Thou carriest them away as with a flood ; they are as a sleep ; in the morn- ing they are like grass which groweth up. 6. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up ; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.' Pathos and Sublimity. Address of the pastor La Roche. — M'Kenzie. * You behold, the mourner of his only child! the last earth- ly stay and blessing of his declining years ! Such a child, too I — It becomes not me to speak of her virtues ! yet it is but gratitude to mention them, because they were exerted to- wards myself! — Not many days ago, you saw her young, beautiful, virtuous, and happy 1 — Ye who are parents will 204 PULPIT ELOCUTION. judge of my affliction now ! But I look towards Him who struck me ! I see the hand of a father, amidst the chasten- ings of my God ! Oh ! could I make you feel what it is to pour out the heart, when it is pressed down with many sor- rows ! to pour it out, with confidence, to Him in whose hands are life and death ! on whose power awaits all that the former enjoys, and in contemplation of whom disappears all that the latter can inflict ! — For we are not as those who die without hope ! We know that our Redeemer liveth ! — * Go, then : mourn not for me ! I have not lost my child ! But a little while, and we shall meet again, never to be sepa- rated !' ' Slow Movement^ This style is exemplified in the ordinary forms of solemn and pathetic language, in description, narration, and senti- ment. It pervades the elocution of the more impressive pas- sages of Scripture, generally, of most hymns, and of all dis- courses adapted to the excitement of profound emotion. The main object of practice in this mode of voice, is to preserve it from a lagging, drawling, formal, or heavy effect, on the one hand, and from a tone too dry and unimpressive, on the other. Solemnity. Extract from the Thanatopsis. — ^Bryant. * All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce. Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings ; — yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down To their last sleep : — the dead reign there alone. — So shalt thou rest ; — and what if thou withdraw ELEMENTABY EXERCISES. 'MOVEMENT.' 205 Unheeded by the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe "Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will share His favourite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall coma- And make their bed with thee. As the long train- Of ages glide away, the sons of men, The youth, in life's green spring, and he who goe& In the full strength of years, matron and maid, The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles And beauty of its innocent age cut off, — Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side By those who, in their turn, shall follow them. * So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death. Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night, Scourged to his 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.' Solemnity and Sublimity. Extract from the Hymn of the Seasons. — Thomson. * Nature, attend ! join, every living soul ; Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, In adoration join ; and, ardent, raise One general song ! To Him, ye vocal gales. Breathe soft ; whose Spirit in your freshness breathes ; Oh ! talk of Him in solitary glooms, Where o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 18 206 PULPIT ELOCUTIOJT. Wlio shake the astonished world, lift high to heaven The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; And let me catch it, as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound ; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound His stupendous praise ; whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled clouds to Him ; whose sun exalts, Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike. Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day ! best image, here below, Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide. From world to world, the vital ocean round ; On nature write with every beam His praise. The thunder rolls : be hushed the prostrate world ; "While cloud to cloud repeats the solemn hymn.' Solemnity and Tranquillity. The Antidote to Adversity. — Wordsworth. * One adequate support For the calamities of mortal life Exists, — one only ; — an assured belief That the procession of our fate, howe'er Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being Of infinite benevolence and power, Whose everlasting purposes embrace ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ' MOVEMENT.' 207 All accidents, converting them to Good. — < The darts of anguish fix not where the seat Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified By acquiescence in the Will Supreme, For Time and for Eternity ; by faith. Faith absolute in God, including hope. And the defence that Ues in boundless love Of his perfections ; with habitual dread Of aught unworthily conceived, endured Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone. To the dishonour of His holy name. — ' Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world I Sustain, Thou only canst, the sick of heart ; Restore their languid spirits, and recall Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine !' Pathos. Extract from Kirk White's 'Prospect of Death? Sad solitary Thought ! who keep'st thy vigils, Thy solemn vigils, in the sick man's mind ; Communing lonely with his sinking soul. And musing on the dubious glooms that lie In dim obscurity before him, — thee Wrapt in thy dark magnificence, I call At this still midnight hour, this awful season, When on my bed in wakeful restlessness, I turn me wearisome ; while, all around. All, all, save me, sink in forgetfulness ; I only wake to watch the sickly taper Which hghts me to my tomb. — ^Yes 'tis the hand Of Death I feel press heavy on my vitals. Slow-sapping the warm current of existence. My moments now are few, — the sand of life Ebbs swiftly to its finish. — Yet a little, And the last fleeting particle will fall. Silent, unseen, unnoticed, unlamented. — 208 PULPIT ELOCUTION. * On mj grassy grave The men of future times will careless tread, And read my name upon the sculptured stone ; Nor will the sound, familiar to their ears, Recall my vanished memory.' Solemnity, Sublimity, and Awe. Extract from Job, XXVI. y. 4. To whom hast thou uttered words ? and whose spirit came from thee ? 5. Dead things are formed from under the waters, and the inhabitants thereof. 6. Hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering. 7. He stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing. 8. He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds ; and the cloud is not rent under them. 9. He holdeth back the face of his throne, and spreadeth his cloud upon it. 10. He hath compassed the waters with bounds, until the day and night come to an end. 11. The pillars of heaven tremble, and are astonished at his reproof. 12. He divideth the sea with his power ; and by his understanding he smiteth through the proud. 13. By his spirit he hath garnished the heavens ; his hand hath formed the crooked serpent. 14. Lo ! these are parts of his ways ; but how little a portion is heard of him ! But the thunder of his power who can understand ?' Pathos. Exti'act from Lamentations, V. V. 15. * The joy of our heart is ceased : our dance is turn- ed into mourning. 16. The crown is fallen from our head : wo unto us that we have sinned ! 17. For this our heart is faint; for these things our eyes are dim. 18. Because of the mountain of Zion, which is desolate : the foxes walk up- on it. 19. Thou, O Lord, remainest forever ; thy throne from generation to generation. 20. Wherefore dost thou for- get us for ever, and forsake us so long time ? 21. Turn thou us unto thee, O Lord, and we shall be turned ; renew our days as of old.* ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. < MOVEMENT,' 209 Consolation. Stanza. — Doddridge. * Peace 1 humbled soul, whose plaintive moan Hath taught these rocks the notes of wo ; Cease thy complaint, — suppress thy groan, And let thy tears' forget to flow : Behold, the precious balm is found, To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound !' Pathos and Solemnity. The Strangers' Nook in the Burial-ground. — R. Chambers. * The graves of the strangers ! — what tales are told by ev- ery undistinguished heap, — what eloquence in this utter ab- sence of epitaphs !' — ' Here, we may suppose, rests the weary old man, to whom, after many bitter shifts, all bitterly disap- pointed, wandering and mendicancy had become a trade. His snow-white head, which had suffered the inclemency of many winters, was here, at last, laid low for ever. Here, also, the homeless youth, who had trusted himself to the wide world in search of fortune, was arrested in his wanderings ; and whether his heart was as light and buoyant as his purse, or weighed down with many privations and disappointments, the end was the same, — only, in the one case, a blight ; in the other, a bliss. The prodigal, who had wandered far, and fared still worse and worse, at length returning, was here cut short in his better purpose, far from those friends to whom he looked forward as a consolation for all his wretchedness. Perhaps, when stretched in mortal sickness in a homely lodg- ing, in the neighbouring village, where, though kindness was rendered, it was still the kindness of strangers, his mind wan- dered in repentant fondness to that mother whom he had parted with in scorn, but for whose hand to present his cup, and whose eye to melt him with its tenderness, he would now gladly give the miserable remains of his life. Perhaps he thought of a brother, also parted with in rage and distrust, 18* 210 PULPIT ELOCUTION. but who, in their early years, had played with him, a fond and innocent child, over the summer leas, and to whom that recollection forgave everything. No one .of these friends to soothe the last moments of his wayward and unhappy life — •scarcely even to hear of his death when it had taken place. Par from every remembered scene, every remembered face, lie was doomed here to take his place amidst the noteless ■dead, and be as if he had never been. ' Perhaps one of these graves contains the shipwrecked mar- iner, hither transferred from the neighbouring beach. — A cry was heard by night through the storm which dashed the waves upon the rocky coast ; deliverance was impossible ; and next morning, the only memorial of what had taken place, was the lifeless body of a sailor, stretched on the sand. No trace of name or kin ; not even the name of the vessel, was learned ; but, no doubt, as the villagers would remark in con- veying him to the Strangers' Nook, he left some heart to pine for his absence, some eyes to mourn for him, if his loss should •ever be ascertained. There are few so desolate on earth as not to have one friend or associate. There must either be a wife to be widowed, or a child to be made an orphan, or a mother to suffer her own not less grievous bereavement. Per- haps the sole beloved object of some humble domestic circle, whose incomings and outgoings were ever pleasant, is here laid low ; while neither can the bereaved learn aught of the fate and final resting-place of their favourite, nor can those who kindly, but without mourning, performed his last offices, reach their ears with the intelligence, — grateful even in its pain, — of what had been done to his remains : here the ener- gies which had battled with the waves in their hour of might, and the despair whose expression had been wasted upon the black tempest, are all stilled into rest, and forgotten. The storm is done ; its work has been accomplished ; and here lies the strange mariner, where no storms shall ever again trouble him.' — * To the other graves there was also some one to resort afterwards, to lament the departure of those who lay below. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. * MOVEMENT.' 211 The spot was always cherished and marked by at least one generation of kind ones ; and, whether distinguished by a monument or not, there was always a greater or less interval before the memory of the deceased entirely perished from its place. Still, as each holy day came round, and the living flocked to the house of prayer, there was always some one to send a kind eye aside towards that little mound, and be for a moment moved with a pensive feeling, as the heart recalled a departed parent, or child, or friend. But the graves of the strangers ! all regard was shut out from them as soon as the sod had closed over them. The decent few who had aiFected mourning over the strangers, had no sooner turned away, than they were at once forgotten. That ceremony over, their kind had done with them for ever. And so, there they lie, dis- tinguished from the rest only by the melancholy mark that they are themselves undistinguished from each other ; no eye to weep over them now or hereafter, and no regard whatso- ever to be paid to them till they stand forth, with their fellow- men, at the Great and Final Day.' Awe and Pathos. The Death of the Wicked. — Massillon. ' The remembrance of the past, and the view of the present, would be little to the expiring sinner ; could he confine him- self to these, he would not be so completely miserable ; but the thoughts of a futurity convulse him with horror and de- spair. That futurity, that incomprehensible region of dark- ness, which he now approaches, — conscience his only com- panion ; that futurity, that unknown land from which no trav- eller has ever returned, where he knows not whom he shall find, nor what awaits him ; that futurity, that fathomless abyss, in which his mind is lost and bewildered, and into which he must now plunge, ignorant of his destiny ; that futurity, that tomb, that residence of horror, where he must now occupy his place amongst the ashes and the carcasses of his ancestors ; •212 PULPIT ELOCUTION. that futurity, that incomprehensible eternity, even the aspect of which he cannot support ; that futurity, in a word, that dreadful judgment, at which, before the wrath of God, he must now appear, and render account of a life, of which every moment almost has been occupied by crimes. * Alas ! while he only looked forward to this terrible futu- rity at a distance, he made an infamous boast of not dreading it ; he continually demanded, with a tone of blasphemy and de- rision. Who is returned from it ? He ridiculed the vulgar ap- prehensions, and piqued himself upon his undaunted courage. But from the moment that the hand of God is upon him ; from the moment that death approaches near, that the gate? of eternity open to receive him, and that he touches upon that terrible futurity, against which he seemed so fortified — ah ! he then becomes either weak, trembhng, dissolved in tears, raising up suppliant hands to heaven, or gloomy, silent, agi- tated, revolving within himself the most dreadful thoughts, and no longer expecting more consolation or mercy, from his weak tears and lamentations, than from his frenzies and despair.* ^Moderate Movement This modification of the ' time' of utterance, occurs in the style of the epistles in the New Testament, of hymns of senti- ment, essays, lectures, practical and doctrinal discourses, — whatever, in a word, falls under the customary rhetorical de- signation of * didactic' composition. The character of the * movement,' or rate of voice, in the elocution of pieces of this description, is adapted to the comparatively moderate emotions, and, consequently, the unimpassioned tones, which pervade their language. The practice of the following exercises, demands attention to that proper medium of utterance which avoids equally slowness and hurry. Deliberateness and composure are the states of feeling to be expressed in the formation and succes- sion of the sounds of the voice. ELEMENTARY EXKRCISES. 'MOVEMENT.' 213 Elevated Sentiment. The Enlargement of our Intellectual Powers. — Savile. ' From the right exercise of our intellectual powers arises one of the chief sources of our happiness. The light of the sun is not so pleasant to the eye as the light of knowledge to the mind. The gratifications of sense yield but a delusive charm, compared with the intellectual joys of which we are susceptible. But these intellectual joys, however refined, are at present much interrupted. However wide the extent of human knowledge, however deep the researches of human wisdom, still it must be confessed, that, in this life, our facul- ties are exceedingly limited, and our views exceedingly con- fined. Light, to us, is everywhere mixed with darkness. Wherever we cast our eyes, or turn our thoughts, we are re- minded of our ignorance, are liable to perpetual mistakes, and often fall into them even in our wisest pursuits. But when the day of immortality dawns, all this shall vanish ; the en- cumbrance of flesh and blood shall no longer grieve us, nor the thick shades of ignorance ever more surround us. The happy spirit emancipated, and having left the spoils of mor- tality behind it, shall be able to comprehend, fully and at once, all the truths and objects which now either come but very partially within, or entirely escape, its observation. — Here we are only children, but in heaven we shall arrive at the manhood of our being ; and therefore we justly infer, that the strength and manhood of our intellectual powers then, will surpass, at least, as much what they are now^ as the reason and judgment of a man exceed those of a child. But however this may be, certain we are, that the faculties with which we are at present blessed, and which are essential to our nature, shall be to a wonderful degree invigorated and improved. They shall be capable of taking in far more copi- ous views, and abundantly larger emanations of God's excel- lence, nay, of tracing the hidden springs of his mysterious ope- rations. — The volumes of nature, of providence, and of re- 214 PULPIT ELOCUTION. demption, shall be revealed : all the records both of time and eternity shall be opened and explained. * We already know, in some measure, the charms of novelty, and feel the delight which arises from the contemplation of objects new, grand, and beautiful. Let us imagine then, if we can, the pleasing sensations we shall experience, the high transports we shall feel, when other and unseen worlds shall be disclosed to our view, and all the glories of the celestial paradise beam on our wondering eyes. — Such a felicity, even in prospect, enlarges the mind, and fills it with emotions which, while it feels, it cannot express. * That our intellectual powers, in a future state, shall really be thus amazingly enlarged, is not a matter of mere conjec- ture ; it is what experience, and reason, and revelation, lend their combined aid to confirm. Experience teaches us, that activity is essential to mind, and necessary to true enjoyment. Reason tells us, that the acquisition of knowledge, particularly that which respects the works and ways of the Most High, is the noblest exercise in which the active powers of the mind can be employed, and a source of the most refined enjoyment of which an intellectual being is capable. And to confirm the dictates of reason, revelation assures us, that " now we know only in part ; but that hereafter that which is in part shall be done away ; — that now we see through a glass darkly ; but that then we shall see God face to face, and know him even as also we are known." — Blissful perfection ! most amazing exaltation ! While the men of the world walk in a vain show, and tire themselves in folly, — Oh ! let us expatiate wide in the fields of wisdom, explore the traces of infinite beauty, the impressions of celestial majesty, — lose ourselves in the depths of unutterable grace, — the knowledge of the adorable Jesus, and thus taste in time the pleasures of eternity.' Mercy. — Shakspeare . * The quality of mercy is not strained ; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd, ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ' MOVEMENT.' 215: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest ia the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown : His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; But mercy is above the sceptered sway, — It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, — It is an attritaite to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.' Argument. Reasons against Anger. — Holland. * However manly and vigorous anger may sometimes be thought, as a defensive instinct, it is in fact but a weak prin- ciple, compared with the sedate resolution of a wise and vir- tuous man. The one is uniform and permanent, like the strength of a person in perfect health ; the other, like a force which proceedeth from a fever, is violent for a time, but it soon leaves the mind more feeble than before. To him, therefore, who is armed with a proper firmness of soul, no de- gree of passion can be useful in any respect. And to say it can ever be laudable and virtuous, is indeed a very bold as- sertion. For the most part, we blame it in others ; and, though we are apt to be indulgent enough to our own faults, we are often ashamed of it even in ourselves. Hence, it is common to hear men excusing themselves, and seriously declaring they were not angry, when they gave unquestionable proofs to the contrary. 'But do we not commend him who resents the injuries done to a friend or innocent person ? Yes, we commend him ; yet not for passion, but for that generosity and friendship of which it is the evidence. For, let any one impartially con- sider which of these characters he esteems the better ;— his, 216 PULPIT ELOCUTION. who interests himself in the injuries of his friend, and zeal- ously defends him with perfect calmness and serenity of tem- per ; or his, who pursues the same conduct under the influence -of resentment. *If anger, then, is neither useful nor commendable, it is certainly the part of wisdom to suppress it entirely. We should rather confine it, you tell us, within certain bounds. But how shall we ascertain the limits, to which it may, and beyond which it ought not to pass ? Wh^ we receive a mani- fest injury, it seems we may resent it, provided we do it with moderation. When we suffer a worse abuse, our anger, I suppose, may rise somewhat higher. Now, as the degrees of injustice are infinite, if our anger must always be proportioned to the occasion, it may possibly proceed to the utmost extrava- gance. Shall we set bounds to our resentment, while we are yet calm ? How can we be assured, that being once let loose, it will not carry us beyond them ? or shall we give passion the reins, imagining we can resume them at pleasure, or trust- ing it will tire or stop of itself, as soon as it has run to its proper length ? As well might we think of giving laws to a tempest ; as well might we endeavour to run mad by rule and method. * In reality, it is much easier to keep ourselves free from resentment, than to restrain it from going to excess, when it has gained admission ; for if reason, while her strength is yet entire, is not able to preserve her dominion, what can she do when her enemy has in part prevailed, and weakened her force ? To use the illustration of an excellent author : — we can prevent the beginnings of some things, whose progress afterwards we cannot hinder. We can forbear to cast ourselves down from a precipice : but, if once we have taken the fatal leap, we must descend, whether we will or not. Thus, the mind, if duly cautious, may stand firm upon the rock of tran- quillity ; but if she rashly forsake the summit, she can scarcely recover herself, but is hurried away downwards by her own passion, with increasing violence,' ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — ' MOVEMENT.' 217 Explanatory Instruction. II. Coi'inthians. Chap. IV. V. 1. ^ Seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not; 2. But have renounced the hidden? things of dishonesty ; not walking in craftiness, nor handling: the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the- truth, commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the- sight of God. 3. * But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost r 4. In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of" them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them. 5. ^ For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord ; and ourselves your servants for Jesns' sake. 6. For God,, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. 7. * But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. 8. We- are troubled on every side, yet not distressed ; we are per- plexed, but not in despair ; 9. Persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not destroyed ; 10. Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Je-^ sus might be made manifest in our body. 11. For we which, live are always delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal fleshy 12. So then death worketh in us, but life in you. 13. ^ We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I believed, and therefore have I spoken ; we also be- lieve, and therefore speak; 14. Knowing, that he which raised up the Lord Jesus, shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us with you. 15. For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiv- ing of many redound to the glory of God. 16. ' For which cause we faint not ; but though our outward 19 818 PULPIT ELOCUTION. man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. 17. For pur light affliction, which is but for a moment, work- eth for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ; 18. While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal ; but the things which are not seen are eternal.' Humane Sentiment. Hymn. — Mrs. Barbaald. * Blest is the man whose softening heart Feels all another's pain ; To whom the supplicating eye Is never raised in vain ; — * Whose breast expands with generous warmth, A brother's woes to feel, And bleeds in pity o'er the wound He wants the power to heal. * He spreads his kind supporting arms To every child of grief : His secret bounty largely flows, And brings unasked relief. * To gentle offices of love His feet are never slow : He views, through mercy's melting eye, A brother in a foe.' * Lively Movement.^ This modification of utterance belongs to all animated com- position, whether narrative, descriptive, or didactic. It im- jl^lies vivid emotion or sentiment, as the prompting cause of a Quicker movement of voice, than belongs to merely moderate feeling and expression. The frequent practice of the sub- joined examples, will serve to impart animation to the voice, in appropriate passages. The error to be guarded against, in these exercises, is that of not coming fully up to the standard ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — 'MOVEMENT.* 219 of animated movement, as regards its liveliness and brisk ef- fect. A common fault which deadens the character of utter- ance, is that of using * median' instead of * radical stress,' in conjunction with the proper acceleration of movement. The pungent and piercing effect of awakening and kindling emo- tion, is thus lost to the ear. The proper union of lively move- ment and radical stress, has the pointed effect of what are termed ' staccato' notes, in music, — or that of the distinct touch of the harp, compared to the gliding sound produced by the bow on the violin. Animation and Courage, Stanzas. — Watts. * Awake, our souls, — away, our fears, Let every trembling thought be gone ! Awake, and run the heavenly race, And put a cheerful courage on I * Swift as an eagle cuts the air, We'll mount aloft to Thine abode ; On wings of love our souls shall fly, Nor tire amid the heavenly road.* Joy. Hymn. — Doddridge. ^ Sing, all ye ransomed of the Lord, Your great Deliverer sing : Ye pilgrims, now for Zion bound, Be joyful in your King ! * His hand divine shall lead you on Through all the blissful road ; Till to the sacred mount you rise, And see your gracious God. * Bright garlands of immortal joy Shall bloom on every head ; While sorrow, sighing, and distress, Like shadows all are fled. 820 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ' March on ; in your Redeemer's strength Pursue his footsteps still ; With joyful hope still fix your eye On Zion's heavenly hill !' Triumph. Extract from Psalm LXVIII. V. 1. * Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered : let them also that hate him flee before him. 2. As smoke is driven away, so drive them away : as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God. 3. But let the righteous be glad ; let them rejoice before God : yea, let them exceedingly rejoice. 4. Sing unto God, sing praises to his name.' 15. ' The hill of God is as the hill of Bashan ; a high hill as the hill of Bashan. 16. Why leap ye, ye high hills ? this is the hill which God desireth to dwell in ; yea, the Lord will dwell in it for ever. 17. The chariots of God are twenty thousand, even thousands of angels : the Lord is among them, as is Sinai, in the holy place. 18. Thou hast ascended on high, thou hast led captivity captive : thou hast received gifts for men ; yea, for the rebeUious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them.' Animated Exhortation. Christian Courage. — Moodie. < The heathen, unsupported by those prospects which the Grospel opens, might be supposed to have sunk under every trial ; yet, even among them, was sometimes displayed an exalted virtue, — a virtue, which no Interest, no danger, could shake ; a virtue, which could triumph amidst tortures and death, — a virtue, which, rather than forfeit its conscious in- tegrity, could be content to resign its consciousness forever. And shall not the Christian blush to repine ? the Christian from before whom the veil is removed ? to whose eyes are revealed the glories of heaven ? Your indulgent Ruler doth not call you to run in vain, or to labour in vain. — Every dif- ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. — ' MOTEMENT.' 221 ficultj, and every trial, that occurs in your path, is a fresh opportunity presented by his kindness, of improving the hap- piness after which he hath taught you to aspire. By every hardship which you sustain in the wilderness, you secure an additional portion of the promised land. What though the combat be severe ? A kingdom, an everlasting kingdom is the prize of victory. Look forward to the triumph which awaits you, and your courage will revive. — Fight the good fight, finish your course, keep the faith : there is laid up for you a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give unto you at that day. What though, in the navigation of life, you have sometimes to encounter the war of elements ? What though the winds rage, though the wa- ters roar, and danger threatens around ? Behold at a dis- tance the mountains appear. — Your friends are impatient for your arrival ; already the feast is prepared ; and the rage of the storm shall serve only to waft you sooner to the haven of rest. — No tempests assail those blissful regions which ap- proach to view, — all is peaceful and serene ; — there you shall enjoy eternal comfort ; and the recollection of the hardships which you now encounter, shall heighten the felicity of better days.' Joy. • The Happiness of those who have extended Human Knowledge. — ^Brougham. * The more widely knowledge is spread, the more will they be prized whose happy lot it is to extend its bounds by dis- covering new truths, or multiply its uses by inventing new modes of applying it in practice. Their numbers will, indeed, be increased. But the order of discoverers and inventors will still be a select few ; and the only material variation in their proportion to the bulk of mankind will be, that the mass of the ignorant multitude being progressively diminished, the body of those will be incalculably increased, who are worthy to admire genius, and able to bestow upon its possessors an immortal fame. ' And if the benefactors of mankind, when they rest from 19* 222 PULPIT ELOCUTION. their pious labours, shall be permitted to enjoy hereafter, as an appropriate reward of their virtue, the privilege of looking -down upon the blessings with w'hich their toils and suflferings have clothed the scene of their former existence ; do not vain- ly imagine that, in a state of exalted purity and wisdom, the founders of mighty dynasties, the conquerors of new empires, Si un- | easy | ^ and con- | fined from | home | , ] I Bests I wj and ex- | patiates | ^ in a | life | wj to | come.' Octosyllabic Couplets. I Wj ' There's | nothing | bright | , | ii^ a- | bove | , | ^ be- | low | , | ^iSj | I ^ From I flowers 1 Wj that | bloom | ^ to ] stars | ^ that \ glow 1 , 1"«^ '^ I I But in its [ light | ^ my | soul j ^ can | see | 1 wj Some I feature i ^ of | thy | Deity |!'|ii^wj|%^^|wj^| Octosyllabic Quatrian Stanza {Long Metre). I ' Dear | ^ is the | hallowed | morn | %^ to [ me | , | I ^ When I village | bells | ^isj a- | wake the | day | ; | iSj ^ | ^ I wj And I ^ by their | sacred | minstrelsy | , | I Call me | ^ from | earthly ] cares | *?j a- | way.' Common Metre Stanza. I ^ ' Like 1 children | ^ for some | bauble | fair I ^ That I weep them- | selves to | rest | ; | wj i^j | I ^ We I part with | life | — ] i^^ I ^ a- | wake | ! | ;;?j^ | wj and | there ( ^ The I jewel ] — I ^ "^ I ^ in our | breast !' ^ The rests are usually ' rhetorical' pauses, or prolongations added to the grammatical pauses indicated by the punctuation. The initial rest represents the slight interval between the first bar and the preceding ut- terance, whatever that may be. t The half accent in polysyllables, is counted in rhythm as the equiva- lent of a full accent. 228 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Short Metre Stanza. I ' Sweet I ^ at the | dawning | light | , | I ^ Thy I boundless | love | ^ to | tell h | Wj Wj I And when ap- | proach | ^ the | shades of | night | , | I StUl I iq on the | theme to | dweU !' Trochaic Measure. 1 ' Now be- I gin the | heavenly | theme [ , | I Sing of I mercy's | healing | stream | : | ^ ^ | Wj wj I Ye I , I i^ who I Jesus' | kindness | prove | , | j Sing of I his re- | deeming love \V \^^\^^\^^\ I ' Teach me | some me- | lodious ] measure | , | I Sung 1 ^ by I raptured | saints ^ | i^ a- J hove ; I Fill my | soul | wj with | sacred | pleasure | , | I ^ While I I sing re- | deeming | love !' Anapcestic Measure. I ^ ' Ke- I ligion I ! | Wj what | treasure | ^ un- | told I ^ Re- I sides | ^ in that | heavenly | word ] ! | ^ ^ | I p More I precious j ^ than | silver | ^ and | gold | , | I ^ Or I all I ^ that this | earth | ^ can af- | ford !'* Prose Rhythm. Extract from Psalm XXXIII. V. 1. *Re- I joice in the | Lord | , | ye | righteous | : | ^ ^ I wj ^ I ^ for I praise | ^ is | comely | ^ for the up- | right I . I ^ ^ I ^ ^ I 2. 1 Praise the | Lord | ^i with | harp | : I %;^ %^ I ^ ^ I sing unto him | ^ with the | psaltery | ^ and an I instrument of | ten | strings |.|i?i^|^^|^;si|3. Sing unto him a | new | song | ; | ^ ^^i | ii and | play | skilfully | wj with a I loud | noise | . | ^ i^ | ^ ^, | ^ ^ | 4. | ^ For the | word of the | Lord | ^ is | right | ; | wj ^ | and | all his | works I ^ are I done | ^ in truth |.|i^^| ^^| isi^|5. pHe * From the analysis which has been given of rhythm, in conjunction with metrical accent in its principal forms, it may be perceived that, in reading, the prosodial grouping of syllables is subordinate — not predom- inant — in the audible effect. The common fault in reading verse is caused by inverting this rule ; and, when to this defect is added that of omitting the rhythmical pauses, nothing is left to the ear but the mere jingle of the scanning. ELEMENTARY EXERCISES. ^RHYTHM.' 229 I loveth I righteousness | ^ and | judgment | : | i^ ^ | i^ ^ | ^ the I earth | ^i is | full | ^ of the | goodness ) wj of the [• Lord I .|^i^| wj^l ^wi| 6. ^ By the | word of the | Lord | ^ were the | heavens | made | ; | i^ ^ | ^ and | all the | host of them I ^ by the | breath of his | mouth | .| ^i^|wj^|^i^|^, 7. ^ He I gathereth the | waters of the | sea | ^ to- | gether |i ^ as a I heap | : | ^ ^ | ^^ ^ | wj he | layeth up the | depth |) wj in I store-houses |.|^i^|ii^|^i^I8. |i^ Let 1 all the^ earth | fear the | Lord | : | ^-i ^^ | ^ ^ | ^ let | all the in- |. habitants of the | world | ^ stand in | awe of him | . | ^i ^ [s ^ '^ I *^ ^ I 9. I i^ For he | spake | ^ and it was | done | ; | ^ iSi [: ^ he com- 1 manded | wj and it | stood | fast | .* | ^sj i^j | ^ ^ |isji5| [. Didactic Style. Reflections in Westminster Abbey. — Addison. I ^ * Though I am | always | serious | , | ^ I do not | know what it I is I ^ to be ] melancholy | ; | ^ ^ | ^ and can | there- fore I take a | view of | Nature | h in her | deep | ^ and | solemn | scenes | , | ^ with the | same | pleasure | ^ as ia her I most | gay | ^ and de- | lightful ones | . | iii^ | i^ ^i | ^^ [ wj By I this I means | ^ I can im- | prove myself | ^ with \ those I objects | ^ which | others | ^ con- | sider with | ter- ror | . | ^ ^ | ^ ^ | ^ wj | ^ When I I look upon the | tombs of the I great | , | every e- | motion of | envy | ^ dies in me | ; | ^ ^ I i^ when I I read the | epitaphs | ^ of the | beautiful | , j every in- | ordinate de- | sire | ^ goes | out | ; | ^ ;si | wj whea I I meet with the | grief of | parents | ^ upon a | tomb-stone | , | ^ my I heart | ^ ^ | melts | ^ with com- | passion | ; | i^ ^ j; wj when 1 1 see the ] tomb of the | parents | ^ them- 1 selves | , [. Wj I con- I sider the | vanity of | grieving | ^ for | those | ^*i |; whom we must | quickly | follow |: |^i^|^^|^^|i?i whea I I see I kings | ^ ^ | lying by | those who de- 1 posed them | , | ^ when I con- | sider | rival | wits | , | placed [ ^ ^ | side by 1 side | , | ^ or the | holy | men | ^ that di- | vided the | world I ^ with their | contests | ^ and dis- | putes | ^^ I re- 1 fleet I ^ with I sorrow | ^ and as- | tonishment | , | ^ oa 20 230 PULPIT ELOCUTION. - the I little | ^ compe- | titions | , | factions | , t ^ and de- bates I ^ of man- | kind [.|^i^|wiwi|i;j^|i;^ When I | read the | several | dates of the | tombs | , | ^^ of | some | h that I died | yesterday | , | ^ and | some | ^ ^ | six | hun- dred I years a- | go | , | i^ I con- | sider | that | great | day | ^ when we shall | ^s^ ^ | all of us | wj %;ii | ^ be con- | tempo- raries I J I *^ and I make our ap- | pearance to- ] gether.' Oratorical Apostrophe. Anticipat ion. — Webs ter . I * They | ^ are in the | distant | regions | ^ of fu- | turi- ty I , I — I they | ^ ex- | ist | ^ ^ | only in the ] all-cre- | ating I power | ^ of | God | , | — \^ who shall | stand | here | , | ^ a | hundred | years | hence | , | ^^^ to | trace | , | ^ through I us I , I ^ their de- | scent from the | Pilgrims | , | ^ and to sur- | vey | , | ^ as | we have | now sur- | veyed | , | ^ the I progress of their | country | , | during the | lapse of a I century |.'|vijiSi|^^|^^|^«On the | morning of | that I day | , | ^ al- | though it | will not dis- | turb | us | ^ in our re- | pose | j | '^ the | voice | ^ of | accla- | mation | wj and I gratitude | , | *^ com- 1 mencing | w, on the | Rock | h of I Plymouth | , | ^ shall be trans- | mitted | ^ through | mil- lions I ^ of the I sons | *i of the | Pilgrims | , | *i till it | lose itself I ^ in the | murmur | ^ of the Pa- | cific | seas | .' | ^ ^ | *1^ I ^^ I ^*^ I *^^ I I ^ * Ad- I vance | , | ^ ye | future | *gener- | ations | ! | ^ ^ I ^ ^ I ULPIT ELOCUTION. regard as holy. The stare and the laugh of unreflecting hearers, are a poor compensation to the preacher, for the sac- rifice of personal dignity, on his own part, and of reverence for truth, on that of his congregation. The minor faults of gesture are chiefly the followino- : Ill-timed action, which does not ' keep time' with emphasis, but either runs before or lags after it ; the frequent use of the left hand in gesture ; the incessant use of both hands whether the breadth or the warmth of a sentiment authorize it or not ; using one or two gestures exclusively, which are perpetually recurring to the eye ; allowing gestures to cross the speaker's body, or to terminate with a rebound, in the pugnacious style of popular debate ; the frequent placing of the hand on the heart, when no personal feeling of the speak- er is implied. The character of gesture, in connection with the different forms of discourse, as didactic or oratorical, was alluded to in a preceding page. Attention is due, also, to the effect pro- duced on gesture by the different parts of the same discourse. Thus, the opening sentences, being usually of an explanatory and didactic character, may need little or no accompaniment of action ; the illustrative and argumentative portions of a sermon may justly require a more animated and varied style of gesture ; and the concluding application, or appeal, may properly call for the highest forms of poetic and oratorical elo- quence, in action as well as in language. A well-composed discourse may not happen to be constructed on such a plan as literally to require these gradations of effect in manner. But every well-written composition, and every well-spoken ad- dress, are always progressive in character, and leave on the mind the impression of a climax of sentiment and style. The appropriate postures of devotion, are a subject on which too little attention is commonly bestowed by the occu- pants of the pulpit. The clasped hands, and the shut eyes, and the bent body, are obviously not alike applicable to all points of a devotional exercise. They have nothing in com- mon with the feelings which ought to pervade the bosom of PRINCIPLES OF GESTURE. 55t the worshipper in the sublime and inspiring acts of adoration and praise : thej do not belong to intercession : they are ap- propriate only in confession and supplication. Every strain of devotion has its appropriate tone, from the swelling notes of adoration and praise, to the breathings of a broken and contrite spirit : each of these, if it issues from the heart rather than from habit, has its natural expression in posture and action : the former prompts the erect attitude and the up- raised vertical hands of awe, reverence, and blessing ; the latter, the bent frame, the drooping head, and the folded hands of self-abasement. Supplication and entreaty raise the head and clasp the hands in earnestness ; petition and intercession extend the arms in the mood and attitude of re- ception ; thanksgiving proffers the gratitude of the heart, as 9. tribute at the throne of Mercy, with open hands, and downward inclination of the arms, in front of the body. — A very common error in the form of action adopted in the benediction, at the close of public religious services, makes the minister apparently solicit a favour of the congregation, instead of presenting himself as, imploring a blessing on them. The false effect arises from the hands being held supine instead of prone, in the act. The reading of the Scriptures and of hymns, is, in the practice of some clergymen, accompanied by expressive ges- ture. This habit seems to be founded on a mistake. The process of elocution is, in both these cases, one of strict read- ing, not of speaking. It is one which calls, therefore, for au- dible, not visible expression. Such, at least, is the associa- tion connected with the custom in Anglo-Saxon communities, in most parts of the world. The Oriental and the European continental style of reading, with the full effect of gesture, is, perhaps, the truer method, if we settle the question affirma- tively that vivid reading comes as near as possible to vivid speaking ; (and we admit the principle so far as the manage- ment of the voice is concerned ;) but the prevalence of gen- eral custom, with us, associates a subdued and repressed style with the reverence due to the Bible and to the offices of wor- 352 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ship; and nothing but a singular ardour of temperament, and a recognized pecuHarity of personal habit, can render an opposite practice generally tolerable. In this, however, as in other questions of expression, the natural eloquence of strong feeling, is sometimes successful in breaking through the usual restraints of custom. The common distinctions of gesture, implied in the terms * didactic,' ' declamatory,' and ' poetic,' may suggest useful hints to the student, in connection with the different modes of action appropriate in the delivery of a discourse. ' Di- dactic' gestures include the slight uses of the open hand and the discriminative finger, in moderate emphasis ; ' declama- tory' action implies the wide sweep and bold descent of ener- getic emphasis ; and ' poetic' gesture includes the character- istic loftiness of epic description, the impassioned vividness and fervour of lyric emotion, and the graphic and abrupt ef- fects of dramatic style. A high-toned prose composition may demand, in delivery, the use of all these forms of action ; as its matter and its style may partake of all the corresponding characteristics of effect. The genuine eloquence of inspired feeling acknowledges no arbitrary limitations. But the subduing and chastening influences of judgment and taste, ought to mould every tone, look, and action, of sacred eloquence. The Rudiments of Gesture, imbodied in the American Elocutionist, will furnish to students more extensive instruc- tion in the elementary details of this branch of the subject ; and Austin's Chironomia, (copies of which are accessible at the libraries of some of our public institutions,) will be found to contain a fund of information upon it, enriched by every aid of learned research and graphic illustration. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES READING AND SPEAKING. English Oratory. — Addison. [This and a few of the following pieces may be read as examples of didactic style. But they are introduced thus early on account, chiefly, of theii suggestive charac- ter, as regards the formation of style in reading and speaking.] Most foreign writers, who have given any character of the English nation, whatever vices they ascribe to it, allow, in general, that the people are naturally modest. It proceeds perhaps from this our national virtue, that our orators are ob- served to make use of less gesture or action than those of other countries. Our preachers stand stock still in the pulpit, and will not so much as move a finger to set off the best ser- mons in the world. We meet with the same speaking statues at our bars, and in all public places of debate. Our words flow from us in a smooth, continued stream, without those strainings of the voice, motions of the body, and majesty of the hand, which are so much celebrated in the orators of Greece and Rome. We can talk of life and death in cold blood, and keep our temper in a discourse which turns upon everything that is dear to us. Though our zeal breaks out in the finest tropes and figures, it is not able to stir a limb about us. I have heard it observed more than once, by those who have seen Italy, that an untravelled Englishman cannot relish all 30* 354 PULPIT ELOCUTION. the beauties of Italian pictures, because the postures which are expressed in them are often such as are peculiar to that country. One who has not seen an Italian in the pulpit, will not know what to make of that noble gesture in Raphael's picture of St. Paul preaching at Athens, where the apostle is represented as lifting up both his arms, and pouring out the thunder of his rhetoric amidst an audience of pagan philoso- phers. It is certain, that proper gestures, and powerful exertions of the voice, cannot be too much studied by a public orator. They are a kind of comment to what he utters, and enforce everything he says, with weak hearers, better than the strong- est argument he can make use of. They keep the audience awake, and fix their attention to what is delivered to them ; at the same time that they show the speaker is in earnest, and affected himself with what he so passionately recom- • mends to others. We are told that the great Latin orator very much im- paired his health by the vehemence of action, with which he used to deliver himself. The Greek orator was likewise so very famous for this particular in rhetoric, that one of his antagonists, whom he had banished from Athens, reading over the oration which had procured his banishment, and seeing his friends admire it, could not forbear asking them, if they were so much affected by the bare reading of it, how much more they would have been alarmed, had they heard him actually throwing out such a storm of eloquence ? How cold and dead a figure, in comparison of these two great men, does an orator often make at the British bar ! The truth of it is, there is often nothing more ridiculous than the gestures of an English speaker ; you see some of them running their hands into their pockets as far as ever they can thrust them, and others, looking with great attention on a piece of paper that has nothing written on it ; you may see many a smart rhetorician turning his hat in his hands, mould- ing it into several different shapes, examining sometimes the lining of it, and sometimes the button, during the whole course MISCEtlANEOirS EXEKCISE3. m of his harangue. A deaf man would think he was cheapening a beaver, when perhaps he is talking of the fate of the British nation. I remember, when I was a young man, and used to frequent Westminster Hall, there was a counsellor who never pleaded without a piece of pack-thread in his hand, which he used to twist about a thumb or a finger, all the while he was speaking : the wags of those days used to call it " the thread of his discourse ;" for he was not able to utter a word without it. One of his clients, who was more merry than wise, stole it from him, one day, in the midst of his pleading ; but he had better have let it alone, — for he lost his cause by his jest. I have all along acknowledged myself to be a dumb man, and therefore may be thought a very improper person to give rules for oratory ; but I believe every one will agree with me in this, that we ought either to lay aside all kinds of gesture, (which seems to be very suitable to the genius of our nation,) or at least to make use of such only as are graceful and ex- pressive. PtJLPiT Eloquence of England. — Sydney Smith. We have no modern sermons in the English language that can be considered as very eloquent. The merits of Blair, (by far the most popular writer of sermons within the last century,) are plain good sense, a happy application of scrip- tural quotation, and a clear, harmonious style, richly tinged with scriptural language. He generally leaves his readers pleased with his judgment, and his just observations on hu- man conduct, without ever rising so high as to touch the great passions, or kindle any enthusiasm in favour of virtue. For eloquence, we must ascend as high as the days of Bar- row and Jeremy Taylor : and even there, while we are de- lighted with their energy, their copiousness, and their fancy, we are in danger of being suffocated by a redundance which abhors all discrimination : which compares till it perplexes, and illustrates till it confounds. To the oases of Tillotson, Sherlock, and Atterbury, we must wade through many a barren page, in which the weary 356 i>ULPIT ELOCUTION. Christian can descry nothing all around him but a dreary- expanse of trite sentiments and languid words. The great object of modern sermons, is to hazard nothing : their characteristic is, decent debility ; which ahke guards itheir authors from ludicrous errors, and precludes them from striking beauties. Every man of sense, in taking up an Eng- lish sermon, expects to find it a tedious essay, full of common- place morality; and if the fulfilment of such expectations be jneritorious, the clergy have certainly the merit of not disap- jpointing their readers. Yet it is curious to consider, how a body of men so well educated, and so magnificently endowed as the English clergy, should distinguish themselves so little in a species of composition to which it is their peculiar duty, as well as their ordinary habit to attend. To solve this difficulty, it should be remembered, that the eloquence of the Bar and of the Senate force themselves into notice, power, and wealth, — that the penalty which an indi- vidual client pays for choosing a bad advocate, is the loss of his cause, — that a prime minister must infallibly suffer in the estimation of the public, who neglects to conciliate the elo- .quent men, and trusts the defence of his measures to those who have not adequate talents for tliat purpose : whereas, the only evil which accrues from the promotion of a clergyman to the pulpit, which he has no ability to fill as he ought, is the fatigue of the audience, and the discredit of that species of public instruction ; an evil so general, that no individual pa- tron would dream of sacrificing to it his particular interest. The clergy are generally appointed to their situations by those who have no interest that they should please the audience before whom they speak ; while the very reverse is the case in the eloquence of the Bar, and of Parliament. We by no means would be understood to say, that the clergy should owe their promotion principally to their eloquence, or that elo- quence ever could, consistently with the constitution of the English church, be made out a common cause of preferment. In pointing out the total want of connection between the privi- lege of preaching, and the power of preaching well, we are MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. ^ giving no opinion a3 to whether it might, or might not be remedied ; but merely stating a fact. Pulpit discourses have insensibly dwindled from speaking to reading ; a practice, of itself, sufficient to stifle every germ of eloquence. It is only by the fresh feelings of the heart, that mankind can be very powerfully affected. What can be more ludicrous, than an orator delivering stale indignation, and fervour of a week old ; turning over whole pages of vio- lent passions, written out in goodly text ; reading the tropes and apostrophes into which he is hurried by the ardour of his mind ; and so affected at a preconcerted line, and page, that he is unable to proceed any farther ? The prejudices of the English nation have proceeded a good deal from their hatred to the French ; and because that country is the native soil of elegance, animation, and grace, a certain patriotic solidity, and loyal awkardness, have become the characteristics of this ; so that an adventurous preacher is afraid of violating the ancient tranquillity of the pulpit ; and the audience are commonly apt to consider the man who tires them less than usual, as a trifler, or a charlatan. Of British education, the study of eloquence makes little or no part. The exterior graces of a speaker are despised ; and debating societies, (admirable institutions, under proper regulations,) would hardly be tolerated either at Oxford or Cambridge. It is commonly answered to any animadversions upon the eloquence of the English pulpit, that a clergyman is to recommend himself, not by his eloquence, but by the purity of his life, and the soundness of his doctrine ; an objection good enough, if any connection could be pointed out between eloquence, heresy, and dissipation ; but if it is possible for a man to live well, preach well, and teach well, at the same time, such objections, resting only upon a supposed incompatibility of these good qualities, are duller than the dulness they de- fend. The clergy are apt to shelter themselves under the plea, that subjects so exhausted are utterly incapable of novelty ; and, in the very strictest sense of the word novelty, — meaning 358 PULPIT ELOCUTION. that which was never said before, at any time, or in any place, this may be true enough of the first principles of morals ; but the modes of expanding, illustrating, and enforcing a particu- lar theme, are capable of infinite variety. Eloquexce of the Pulpit. — John Quinaj Adams. The pulpit is especially the throne of modern eloquence. There it is, that speech is summoned to realize the fabled wonders of the orphean lyre. The preacher has no control over the will of his audience, other than the influence of his discourse. Yet, as the ambassador of Christ, it is his great and awful duty to call sinners to repentance. His only weapon is the voice ; and with this, he is to appal the guilty, and to reclaim the infidel ; to rouse the indifferent, and to shame the scorner. He is to inflame the lukewarm, to encourage the timid, and to cheer the desponding believer. He is to pour the healing balm of consolation into the bleeding heart of sor- row, and to soothe, with celestial hope, the very agonies of death. Now tell me, who is it, that will best possess and most ef- fectually exercise these more than magic powers ? Who is it, that will most effectually stem the torrent of human passions, and calm the raging waves of human vice and folly ? Who is it, that, with the voice of a Joshua, shall control the course of nature herself, in the perverted heart, and arrest the lumina- ries of wisdom and virtue, in their rapid revolutions round this little world of man ? Is it the cold and languid speaker, whose words fall in such sluggish and drowsy motion from his lips, that they can promote nothing but the slumbers of his auditory, and administer opiates to the body, rather than stimulants to the soul ? Is it the unlettered fanatic, without method, with- out reason ; with incoherent raving, and vociferous ignorance, calculated to fit his hearer.--, not for the kingdom of heaven, but for an hospital of lunatics ? Is it even the learned, inge- nious, and pious minister of Christ, who, by neglect or con- tempt of the oratorical art, has contracted a whining, monoto- MiSCEtLANEOrS EXERCISES. 359 nous, sing-song of delivery, to exercise the patience of his flock, at the expense of their other Christian graces ? Or is it the genuine orator of heaven, with a heart sincere^ upright, and fervent ; a mind stored with that universal know- ledge, required as the foundation of his art : with a genius for." the invention, a skill for the disposition, and a voice for the' elocution of every argument to convince, and of every senti- ment to persuade ? If then we admit, that the art of oratory- qualifies the minister of the gospel to perform, in higher per- fection, the duties of his station, we can no longer question- whether it be proper for his cultivation. It is more than- proper ; it is one of his most solemn and indispensable duties/' The Fatal Ealsehood. — Mrs. Opie. [The following extract is designed as an example of impressive narrative reading, such as is sometimes introduced in discourses from the pulpit. ' Expression' and 'variation' are, in passages like this, the main objects of attention in the practice of elocution. The thrilling effect of the story requires that these should' be deep and subdued, yet intensely vivid.] Mrs. Opie, in her ' Illustrations of Lying,' gives, as an in- stance of what she terms ' the lie of benevolence,' the melan- choly tale of which the following passage is the conclusion. — Vernon, is a clergyman in Westmoreland^ whose youngest son, at a distance from home had, in a moment of passion, committed murder. The youth had been condemned and exe- cuted for his crime. But his brothers had kept the cause and. form of his death concealed from their father, and had informed him that their brother had been taken suddenly ill, and died; on his road homeward. The father hears the awful truth un- der the following circumstances, when on a journey. The coach stopped at an inn outside the city of York ;; and as Vernon was not disposed to eat any dinner, he strolled along the road, till he came to a small church, pleasantly situ- ated, and entered the church-yard to read, as was his custom, the inscriptions on the tombstones. While thus engaged, he saw a man filling up a new-made grave, and entered inta con- versation with him. He found it was the sexton himself; and 860 ' PULPIT ELOCUTION. he drew from him several anecdotes of the persons interred around them. During their conversation, they had walked over the whole of the ground, when, just as they were going to leave the spot, the sexton stopped to pluck some weeds from a grave near the corner of it, and Vernon stopped also ; taking hold, as he did so, of a small willow sapling, planted near the cor- ner itself. As the man rose from his occupation, and saw where Ver- non stood, he smiled significantly, and said, " I planted that willow ; and it is on a grave, though the grave is not marked out." "Indeed!" " Yes ; it is the grave of a murderer." " Of a murderer !" — echoed Vernon, instinctively shudder- ing, and moving away from it. " Yes," resumed he, " of a murderer who was hanged at York. Poor lad I — it was very right that he should be hanged ; but he was not a hardened villain ! and he died so penitent ! and as I knew him when he used to visit where I was groom, I could not help planting this tree for old ac- quaintance' sake." — Here he drew his hand across his eyes. " Then he was not a low-born man ?" " Oh! no; his father was a clergyman, I think." " Indeed ! poor man : was he living at the time ?" said Vernon, deeply sighing. " Oh ! yes ; for his poor son did so fret, lest his father should ever know what he had done : he said he was an angel upon earth ; and he could not bear to think how he would grieve ; for, poor lad, he loved his father and his mother too, though he did so badly." "Is his mother, living?" " No ; if she had, he would have been alive ; but his evil courses broke her heart ; and it was because the man he killed reproached him for having murdered his mother, that he was provoked to murder him." " Poor, rash, mistaken youth ! then he had provocation ?" MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 361 " Oh ! yes ; the gi-eatest : but he was very sorry for what he had done ; and it would have done your heart good to hear him talk of his poor father." "I am glad I did not hear him," said Vernon. hastily, and in a faltering voice, (for he thought of Edgar.) " And yet, sir, it would have done your heart good too." " Then he had virtuous feelings, and loved his father, amidsfe all his errors ?" « Aye." " And I dare say his father loved him, in spite of his faults."' " I dare say he did," replied the man ; " for one's childrea are our own flesh and blood, you know, sir, after all that is. said and done ; and may be this young fellow was spoiled in the bringing up." " Perhaps so," said Vernon, sighing deeply. " However, this poor lad made a very good end." • " I am glad of that ! and he lies here," continued Vernon,, gazing on the spot with deeper interest, and moving nearer to it as he spoke. " Peace be to his soul ! but was he not dis^ Bected?" " Yes ; but his brothers got leave to have the body after dissection. They came to me, and we buried it privately at. night." " His brothers came ! and who were his brothers ? " Merchants, in London ; and it was a sad cut on them ; but they took care that their father should not know it." " No !" cried Vernon, turning sick at heart. " Oh ! no ; they wrote him word that his son was ill ; then went to Westmoreland, and — " " Tell me," interrupted Vernon, gasping for breath, and laying his hand on his arm, " tell me the name of this poor youth!" " Why, he was tried under a false name, for the sake of his- family ; but his real name was Edgar Vernon." The agonized parent drew back, shuddered violently and repeatedly, casting up his eyes to heaven, at the same time^ with a look of mingled appeal and resignation. He thea 31 362 PTJLPIT ELOCtJTION. rushed to the obscure spot which covered the bones of his son, threw himself upon it, and stretched his arms over it, as if embracing the unconscious deposit beneath, while his head rested on the grass, and he neither spoke nor moved. But he uttered one groan ; — then all was stillness ! His terrified and astonished companion remained motion- less, for a few moments, — then stooped to raise him ; but the FIAT OF MERCY had gone forth, and the paternal heart, broken by the sudden shock, had suffered, and breathed its last. Musixos ox THE Gkave. — Washington Irving:. [An example of the deepest patlios.] Oh ! the grave ! the grave ! — It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment. From its peace- ful bosom spring none but found regrets and tender recollec- tions. Who can look down, even upon the grave of an en- emy, and not feel a compunctious throb that ever he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that now lies mouldering before him ? But the grave of those we loved — what a place for meditation ! There it is we call up, in long review, the whole history of the truth and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheard in the daily course of intimacy ; there it is we dwell upon the tenderness of the parting scene ; the bed of death, with all its stifled grief; its noiseless attendants; its most watchful assiduities, — the last testimonials of expiring love, — the fee- ble, fluttering, thrilling — oh ! how thrilling is the beating of the pulse ! — the last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us from the threshold of existence, — the faint faltering accent, struggling in death to give one more assurance of af- fection. Ah ! go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! There settle the account, with thy conscience, of every past endear- ment unregarded, of that departed being, who never, never can be soothed by contrition. If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 863 brow of an affectionate parent ; — if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole hap- piness in thy arms, to doubt a moment of thy kindness or thy truth ; — if thou art a friend, and hast injured by thought, word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee ; — if thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to the true heart that now lies cold beneath thy feet, there be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, eve- ry ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy mem- ory, and knock dolefully at thy soul ; be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repenting on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear, — bitter, because unheard and unavailing. The Grave. — J. Montgomery. [An example of vivid and varied ' Expression.'] There is a calm for those who weep, — A rest for weary pilgrims found ; — They softly lie and sweetly sleep Low in the ground. The storm that rocks the winter sky, No more disturbs their deep repose, Than summer evening's latest sigh, That shuts the rose. I long to lay this painful head And aching heart beneath the soil, To slumber in that dreamless bed From all my toil. ' Art thou a wretch^ of hope forlorn, The victim of consuming care ? Is thy distracted conscience toEn By fell despair ? ' Do foul misdeeds of former times Wring with remorse thy guilty breast ? And ghosts of unforgiven crimes Murder thy rest ? * Lashed by the furies of the mind, Erom Wrath and Vengeance wouldst thou flee ? — 364 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Ah ! think not, hope not, fool, to find A friend in me ! * By all the terrors of the tomb, — Beyond the power of tongue to tell ; — By the di-ead secret of my womb ; — By Death and Hcll;- ' I charge thee live ! — repent and pray ; In dust thine infamy deplore : There yet is mercy ; — go thy way, And sin no more. '^ Art thou a mourner ? — Hast thou known The joy of innocent delights, Endearing days forever flown, And tranquil nights ? ' Oh ! LIVE ! and deeply cherish still The sweet remembrance of the past : Kely on Heaven's unchanging will For peace at last. ' Ai-t thou a rvanderer? — Hast thou seen O^envlielming tempests drown thy bark ? A &hipwi-ecked sufferer, hast thou been Misfortune's mark ? ' Though long of wind and waves the sport, Condemned in wretchedness to roam. Live ! — thou shalt reach a sheltering port, A quiet home. ' To Friendship didst thou trust thy fame 1 And was thy friend a deadly foe-l AVho stole into thy breast to aim A surer blow 1 ' Live ! — and repine not o'er his loss, — A loss unwoi-thy to be told : Thou hast mistaken sordid dross For friendship's gold. ' Seek the true treasure, — seldom found, — Of power the fiercest griefs to calm. And soothe the bosom's deepest wound With heavenly balm. - ' Whate'er thy lot — whate'er thou be,— MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 365 Confess thy folly, kiss the rod, And in thy chastening sorrows see The hand of God. * A bruised reed he will not break ; Afflictions all his children feel : He wounds them for his mercy's sake — He wounds to heal. ' Humbled beneath his mighty hand, Prostrate his providence adore : 'Tis done ! — Arise ! He bids thee stand, To fall no more. ' Now, Traveller in the vale of tears, To realms of everlasting light, Through Time's dark wilderness of years, Pursue tliy flight ! ' There is a calm for those who weep,-^ A rest for weary Pilgrims found ; And while tlie mouldering ashes sleep Low in the ground, * The Soul, of origin divine, — God's glorious image, — freed from clay, In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine A star of day. ' The Sun Is but a spark of fire, — A transient meteor in the sky : The Soul, immortal as its Sire, Shall nevee die.' The Gallican Church, at the Period op the Revolution, — Croly. {An example of elevated and impressive narrative, combining depth smd force of ex- pressive tone.] It is among the most memorable facts of intellectual de- cline, that of the forty thousand clergy of France, not one man of conspicuous ability was roused by the imminent danger of his church. Like a Jflock of sheep, they relied on their num- bers ; and the infidel drove them before him, like a flock of sheep. While the battlements of their gigantic church were rocking in every blast, there was no sign of manly precaution, 31* 366 PULPIT ELOCUTION. none of generous self-exposure for the common cause, and scarcely any even of that wise suspicion which is the strength of the weak. They took it for granted that the church would last their time, and were comforted. The pride of the day was distinction in literature ; but the whole ecclesiastical body of France saw the race run, without an effort for the prize. They sat wrapped in their old recollections, on the benches of the amphitheatre, and looked on, without alarm, while a new generation of mankind were trying their athletic limbs, and stimulating their young ambition, in the arena where they had once been unrivalled. Raynal, and the few clerics who distinguished themselves by authorship, were avowed deists or atheists ; and ostentatious of their complete, if not contemp- tuous sepai-ation from the establishment. The last light of ecclesiastical literature had glimmered from the cells of Port Royal ; but, with the fall of the Jan- senists, " middle and utter darkness" came. During half a century, no work of public utility, none of popular estimation, none of genius, none which evinced loftiness of spirit, vigour of understanding, or depth of knowledge, had been produced by a churchman. The consequence was inevitable and fatal. The old awe of the church's power was changed into contempt for its un- derstanding. Ten thousand rents were made in the fabric : still they let in no light upon the voluntary slumberers within. The revolutionary roar echoed through all its chambers ; but it stirred no champion of the altar. The high ecclesiastics relied upon their connection with the court, their rank, and the formal homage of their officials ; — shields of gossamer against the pike and firebrand of the people. The inferior priesthood, consigned to obscurity, shrank into their villages into cumberers of the earth, or were irritated into rebels. The feeble contracted themselves within the drowsy round of their prescribed duties ; the daring brooded over the national dis- contents and their own, until they heard the trumpet sounding to every angry heart and form of ill in France ; and came forth, a gloomy and desperate tribe, trampling their images and al- MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 367 tars under foot, and waving the torch in the front of the grand insurrection. Night. — J. Montgomery. [The following piece is peculiarly expressive in its style of elocution as well as of sentiment and language. It exemplifies, successively, the tones of tranquillity^ wonder, joy, pathos, regret, horror, sublimity, and devout emotion.] Night is the time for rest ; — How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Upon our own accust<)med bed. Night is the time for dreams ; — The gay romance of life, When tnith that is, and truth that seems, Blend in fantastic strife : — Ah ! visions less beguiling far Than waking dreams by daylight are ! Night is the time for toil ; To plough the classic field, Intent to find the buried spoil Its wealthy furrows yield ; Till all is ours that sages taught, That poets sang, or heroes wrought. Night is the time to weep ; To wet Avith unseen tears Those graves of memory, where sleep The joys of other years, Hopes that were angels in their birth, But perished young — like things of earth. Night is the time to watch ; On ocean's dark expanse, To hail the Pleiades, or catch The full moon's earliest glance. That brings unto the home-sick mind All we have loved — and left behind. Night is the time for care ; Brooding on hours mis-spent, To see the spectre of despair Come to our lonely tent ; ,-, «**' '^tei' 368 PtJLPIT ELOCtJTIOJ?. Like Brutus 'mid his slumbering host, Startled by Casar's stalwart ghost. Night is the time to muse ; Then from the eye the soul Takes flight, and with expanding views, Beyond the starry pole Descries, athwart the abyss of night, The dawn of uncreated light. Night is the time to pray ; Our Saviour oft withdrew To desert mountains far away : So will his followers do, — Steal from the throng to haunts untrod, And hold communion there with God. Night is the time for death ; When all around is peace, Calmly to yield the weary breath, From sin and suffering cease, Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign To parting friends — such death be mine ! The Land of Beulah. — G. B. Cheever. [The prevalent ' Expression' of the following passage, is that of admira- tion rising to rapture ; — the tone of joy, however, softened by that of sacred and solemn feeling.] No Other language than that of Bunyan himself, perused in the pages of his own sweet book, could be successful in portraying the beauty and glory of such a scene ; for now he seems to feel that all the dangers of the pilgrimage are almost over ; and he gives himself up without restraint so entirely to the sea of bliss that surrounds him, and to the gales of heaven that are wafting him on, and to the sounds of melody that float in the whole air around him, that nothing in the English language can be compared with this whole closing part of the ' Pilgrim's Progress,' for its entrancing splendour, yet serene and simple loveliness. The colouring is that of heaven in the soul ; and Bunyan has poured his own heaven- entranced soul into it. With all its depth and power, there BIISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 9S9 is nothing exaggerated ; and it is made up of the simplest and most scriptural materials and images. We seem to stand in a flood of light poured on us from the open gates of Para- dise. It falls on every leaf and shrub by the way-side ; it is reflected from the crystal streams, that between grassy banks wind amidst groves of fruit-trees into vineyards and flower- gardens. These fields of Beulah are just below the gate of heaven ; and with the light of heaven there come floating down the melodies of heaven : so that here there is almost an open revelation of the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. During the last days of that eminent man of God, Dr. Payson, he once said, < When I formerly read Bunyan's de- scription of the land of Beulah, where the sun shines and the birds sing day and night, I used to doubt whether there was such a place ; but now my own experience has convinced me of it, and it infinitely transcends all my previous conceptions.* The best possible commentary on the glowing description in Bunyan is to be found in that very remarkable letter dictated by Dr. Payson to his sister, a few weeks before his death. * Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for weeks a happy inhabitant. The Celestial City is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me ; its breezes fan me ; its odours are wafted to me i its sounds strike upon my ears ; and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the River of Death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righte- ousness has been drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he approached ; and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm.' There is perhaps, in all our language, no record of a 370 PULPIT ELOCUTION. Christian's happiness before death so striking as this. What is it not worth, to enjoy such consolations as these, in our pilgrimage, and especially to experience such foretastes of heaven, as we draw near to the River of Death, such revela- tions of God in Christ as can swallow up the fears and pains of dying, and make the soul exult in the vision of a Saviour's loveliness, the assurance of a Saviour's mercy ? There is no self-denial, no toil, no suffering in this life which is worthy to be compared for a moment with such blessedness. It is very remarkable that Bunyan has, as it were, at- tempted to lifl the veil from the grave, from eternity, in the beatific closing part of the Pilgrim's Progress, and to de- pict what passes, or may be supposed to pass, with the souls of the righteous immediately after death. There is a very familiar verse of Watts, founded on the unsuccessful effort of the mind to conceive definitely the manner of that existence into which the immortal spirit is to be ushered. ' In vain the fancy strives to paint The moment after death ; The glories that suiTOund the saint In yielding up his breath.' The old poet, Henry Vaughan, in his fragment on < Heav- en in Prospect,* refers to the same uncertainty, in stanzas that, though somewhat quaint, are very striking. ' Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just, Shining nowhere but in the dark, Wliat mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark ! ' He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know At first sight if the bird be flown ; But what fair field or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. ' And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.' miscbllaneotts exehcises. ^1 Life's Companions. — Charles Maclcay. [The ' Expression,' in the first three stanzas of this piece, is marked by the tones of animation^ cheei'fidness, composure, joy^ and courage ; it chan- ges in the next three, to regret, — in the seventh to earnest but tender entreaty, — in the eighth, to sublime aspiration and triumph.] When I set sail on Life's young voyage, 'Twas upon a stormy sea ; But to cheer me night and day, Through the perils of the way, With me went companions three ; Three companions, kind and faithful. Dearer far than Mend or bride, Heedless of the storaiy weather. Hand in hand they came together, Ever smiling at my side. One was Health, my lusty comrade, Cheny-cheeked and stout of limb ; Though my board was scant of cheer, And my drink but water clear, I was thankful, blessed with him. One was mild-eyed Peace of Spirit, Who, though storms the welkin swept, Waking, gave me calm reliance. And though tempests howled defiance, Smoothed my pillow while I slept. One was Hope, my dearest comrade, Never absent from my breast, Brightest in the darkest days, Kindest in the roughest ways, Dearer far than all the rest. And though Wealth, nor Fame, nor Station, Journeyed with me o'er the sea ; Stout of heart, all danger scorning. Nought cared I, in life's young morning, Eor their lordly company. But, alas ! ere night has darkened, I have lost companions twain ; And the third with tearful eyes. Worn and wasted, often flies. But as oft returns again. 372 PTJLPIT ELOCtJTION. And, instead of those departed, Spectres twin around me flit ; Pointing each with shadowy finger, Nightly at my couch they linger ; Daily at my board they sit. Oh ! alas ! that I have followed In the hot pursuit of Wealth ; Though I've gained the prize of gold, — Eyes are dim, and blood is cold, — I have lost my comrade, Health. Care, instead, the withered beldam, Steals the enjoyment from my cup, Hugs me, that I cannot quit her ; Makes my choicest morsels bitter ; Seals the founts of pleasure up. Ah ! alas ! that Fame allured me, — She so false, and I so blind, — Sweet her smiles ; but in the chase I have lost the happy face Of my comrade. Peace of Mind ; And instead, Remorse, pale phantom, Tracks my feet, where'er I go ; All the day I see her scowling. In my sleep I hear her howling, Wildly flirting to and fro. Last of aU my dear companions, Hope ! sweet Hope ! befriend me yet ! Do not from my side depai-t, Do not leave my lonely heart All to darkness and regret ! Short and sad is now my voyage O'er this gloom-encompassed sea, But not cheerless altogether, — Whatsoe'er the wind and weather, — Will it seem, if blessed with thee. Dim thine eyes are, turning earthwards, Shadowy pale, and thin thy form ; — Turned to heaven tliine eyes grow bright. All thy form expands in light, Soft and beautiful and warm. Look then upAvards ! lead me heavenwards ! Guide me o'er this darkening sea ! 873 MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. Pale remorse shall fade before me, And the gloom shall brighten o'er me, If I have a friend in Thee. Henry Marttn. — Macauhy. [An exercise in the reading of biographical narrative, imbodying all the highest, qualities of sentiment and language, and a corresponding intensity of ^ Expression*' and vividness of ' Variation.']* Towards the middle of the last century, John Marty n of Truro was working with his hands in the mines near that town- He was a wise man, who, knowing the right use of leisure- hours, employed them so as to qualify himself for higher and: more lucrative pursuits ; and who, knowing the right use of money, devoted his enlarged means to procure for his four children a liberal education. Henry, the younger of his sons,, was accordingly entered at the university of Cambridge^, where, in January, 1801, he obtained the degree of bachelor of arts, with the honorary rank of senior wrangler. There also he became the disciple, and as he himself would have said*, the convert of Charles Simeon. Under the counsels of that eminent teacher, the guidance of Mr. Wilberforce, and the ac- tive aid of Mr. Grant, he entered the East India Company's service, as a chaplain. After a residence in Hindostan of about five years, he returned homewards through Persia, in- broken health. Pausing at Shiraz, he laboured there, during twelve months, with the ardour of a man, who, distinctly per- ceiving the near approach of death, feared lest it should inter- cept the great work for which alone he desired to live. That work, (the translation of the New Testament into Persian,)i at length accomplished, he resumed his way towards Constan- tinople, followed his Mimander, (one Hassan Aga,) at a gallop,, nearly the whole distance from Tabriz to Tocat, under the rays of a burning sun, and the pressure of continual fever. On the 6th of October, 1812, in the thirty-second year of his age, he brought the journal of his life to a premature closey * Passages such as the above, serve to exemplify the style of elocution in obituary discourses. 32 874 PULPIT ELOCUTION. by inscribing in it the following words, while he sought a momentary repose under the shadow of some trees at the foot of the Caramanian mountains : * I sat in the orchard, and thought, with sweet comfort and fear, of God, — in solitude, my company, my friend, and comforter. Oh ! when shall time give place to eternity ! When shall appear that new heaven and new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness and love ! There shall in nowise enter anything that defileth ; none of that wickedness which has made men worse than wild beasts ; none of those corruptions which add still more to the miseries of mortality, shall be seen or heard of any more.' Ten days afterwards, these aspirations were fulfilled. His body was laid in the grave by the hands of strangers at Tocat ; and to his disimbodied spirit was revealed that awful vision, which it is given to the pure in heart, and to them alone, to contem- plate. Amidst all the discords which agitate the church of Eng- land, her sons are unanimous in extolling the name of Henry Martyn. And with reason ; for it is, in fact, the one heroic name which adorns her annals, from the days of Elizabeth to our own. Her apostolic men, — the Wesleys, and Eliots, and Brainerds, of other times, — either quitted, or were cast out of her communion. Her Acta Sanctorum may be read, from end to end, with a dry eye and an unquickened pulse. Henry Martyn, the learned and the holy, translating the Scriptures in his solitary ' bungalow' at Dinapore, or preaching to a con- gregation of five hundred beggars, or refuting the Moham- medan doctors at Shiraz, is the bright exception. It is not the less bright, because he was brought within the sphere of those secular influences which so often draw down our Angli- can worthies from the empyrean along which they would soar, to the levels, flat though fertile, on which they must depas- ture. There is no concealing the fact, that he annually received from the East India Company an ugly allowance of twelve hundred pounds ; and though he would be neither just nor prudent, who should ascribe to the attractive force of that MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 375 Stipend one hour of Henry Martyn's residence in the east ; yet the ideal would be better without it. Oppressively con- clusive as may be the arguments in favour of a well-endowed and punctually-paid * Establishment,' they have, after all, an unpleasant earthly savour. One would not like to discover that Polycarp, or Bernard, or Boniface Vv^as waited on, every quarter-day, by a plump bag of coin from the public treasu- ry. To receive a thousand rupees monthly from that source, was perhaps the duty, it certainly was not the fault, of Henry Martyn. Yet it was a misfortune, and had been better avoided, — if possible. When Mackenzie was sketching his Man of Feeling, he could have desired no better model than Henry Martyn, the young and successful competitor for academical honours ; a man born to love with ardour and to hate with vehemence ; amorous, irascible, ambitious, and vain ; without one torpid nerve about him ; aiming at universal excellence in science, in literature, in conversation, in horsemanship, — and even in dress ; not without some gay fancies, but more prone to aus- tere and melancholy thoughts ; patient of the most toilsome inquiries, though not wooing philosophy for her own sake ; animated by the poetical temperament, though unvisited by any poetical inspiration ; eager for enterprise, though thinking meanly of the rewards to which the adventurous aspire ; unit- ing in himself, though as yet unable to concentrate or to har- monize them, many keen desires, many high powers, and much constitutional dejection, — the chaotic materials of a great character, destined to combine, as the future events of life should determine, into no common forms, whether of beau- ty and delight, or of deformity and terror. Among those events, the most momentous was his connec- tion with Charles Simeon, and with such of his disciples as sought learning at Cambridge, and learned leisure at Clapham. A mind so beset by sympathies of every other kind, could not but be peculiarly susceptible to the contagion of opinion. From that circle he adopted, in all its unadorned simplicity, the system called Evangelical — that system of which, (if Au- 876 PULPIT ELOCUTION. gustin, Luther, Calvin, Knox, and the writers of the English Homilies, may be credited,) Christ himself was the author, and Paul, the first and greatest interpreter. Through shallow heads and voluble tongues, such a creed, (or indeed any creed,) filtrates so easily, that, of the multitude who maintain it, comparatively few are aware of the conflict of their faith with the natural and unaided reason of mankind. Indeed, he who makes such an avowal, will hardly escape the charge of affectation or of impiety. Yet, if any truth be clearly revealed, it is, that the apostolic doctrine was foolish- ness to the sages of this world. If any unrevealed truth be indisputable, it is, that such sages are at this day making, as they have ever made, ill-disguised efforts to escape the infer- ences with which their own admissions teem. Divine philoso- phy, divorced from human science, — celestial things stripped of the mitigating veils woven by man's wit and fancy to re- lieve them, — form an abyss as impassable at Oxford, now, as at Athens, eighteen centuries ago. To Henry Martyn the gulf was visible, the self-renunciation painful, the victory complete. His understanding embraced, and his heart re- posed in, the two comprehensive and ever-germinating tenets of the school in which he studied. Regarding his own heart as corrupt, and his own reason as delusive, he exercised an unHmited affiance in the holiness and the wisdom of Him, in whose person the divine nature had been allied to the human, — that, in the persons of his followers, the human might be al- lied to the divine. Such was his religious theory — a theory which doctors may combat, or admit, or qualify, but in which the readers of Hen- ry Marty n's biography, letters, and journals, cannot but ac- knowledge that he found the resting-place of all the impetu- ous appetencies of his mind, the spring of all his strange powers of activity and endurance. Prostrating his soul be- fore the real, though the hidden Presence he adored, his doubts were silenced, his anxieties soothed, and every meaner passion hushed into repose. He pursued divine truth, (as all who would succeed ia that pursuit must pursue it,) by the MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. ^7t will rather than the understanding ; by sincerely and earnestly searching out the light which had come into the world, by still going after it, when perceived, — by following its slightest inti- mations with faith, with resignation, and with constancy, though the path it disclosed led him from the frieiids and the home of his youth, across wide oceans and burning deserts, amidst contumely and contention, with a wasted frame and an overburthened spirit. He rose to the sublime in character, neither by the powers of his intellect, nor by the compass of his learning, nor by the subtlety, the range, or the beauty of his conceptions, (for in all these he was surpassed by many,) but by the copiousness and the force of the living fountains by which his spiritual life was nourished. Estranged from a world once too fondly loved, his well-tutored heart learned to look back with a calm though affectionate melancholy on its most bitter privations. Insatiable in the thirst for freedom, holiness, and peace, he maintained an ardour of devotion which might pass for an erotic delirium, when contrasted with the Sadducean frigidity of other worshippers. Regarding all the members of the great human family as his kindred in sor- row and in exile, his zeal for their welfare partook more of the fervour of domestic affection, than of the kind but gentle warmth of a diffusive philanthropy. Elevated in his own esteeni by the consciousness of an intimate union with the Eternal Source of all virtue, the meek missionary of the cross exhibited no obscure resemblance to the unobtrusive dignity, the unfaltering purpose, and the indestructible composure of Him by whom the cross was borne. The ill-disciplined de- sires of youth, now confined within one deep channel, flowed quickly onwards to one great consummation ; nor was there any faculty of his soul, or any treasure of his accumulated knowledge, for which appropriate exercise was not found on the high enterprise to which he was devoted. And yet nature, the great leveller, still asserting her rights, even against those whose triumph over her might seem the most perfect, would not seldom extort a burst of passionate grief from the bosom of the holy Henry Martyn, when mem- 32* 378 PULPIT ELOCUTION. ory recalled the image of her to whom, in earlier days, the homage of his heart had been rendered. The writer of his life, embarrassed with the task of reconciling such an episode to the gravity befitting a hero so majestic, and a biography so solemn, has concealed this passage of his story beneath a veil, at once transparent enough to excite, and impervious enough to baffle curiosity. A form may be dimly distinguished of such witchery as to have subdued, at the first interview, if not at the first casual glance, a spirit soaring above all the other attrac- tions of this sublunary sphere. We can faintly trace the path- way, not always solitary, of the pious damsel, as she crossed the bare heaths of Cornwall, on some errand of mercy, and listened, not unmoved, to a tremulous voice, pointing to those heights of devotion from which the speaker had descended to this lower worship. Then the shifting scene presents the figure — alas ! so common — of a mother, prudent and inexo- rable, as if she had been involved in no romance of her own, 5ome brief twenty years before ; and then appears the form, (deliciously out of place,) of the apostolic Charles Simeon, as- suming, but assuming in vain, the tender intervenient office. In sickness and in sorrow, in watchings and in fastings, in toils and perils, and amidst the decay of all other earthly hopes, this human love blends so touchingly with his diviner enthu- -siasm, that, even from the life of Henry Martyn, there can scarcely be drawn a more valuable truth, than that, in minds pure as his, there may dwell together, in most harmonious -concord, affections which a coarse, low-toned, ascetic morality, would describe as distracting the heart between earth and heaven. Yet it is a life pregnant with many other weighty truths. It was passed in an age when men whom genius itself could scarcely rescue from abhorrence, found in their constitutional sadness, real or fictitious, not merely an excuse for grovelling in the sty of Epicurus,' but even an apology for deifying their sensuality, pride, malignity, and worldly-mindedness, by hymns due only to those sacred influences, by which our bet- ter nature is sustained, in its warfare with its antagonist cor- MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 87$ ruptions. Not such the gloom which brooded over the heart of Henry Martyn. It solicited no sympathy, was never be- trayed into sullenness, and sought no unhallowed consolation. It assumed the form of a depressing consciousness of ill de- sert ; mixed with fervent compassion for a world which he at once longed to quit, and panted to improve. It was the sad- ness of an exile gazing wistfully towards his distant home, even while soothing the grief of his brethren in captivity. It was a sadness akin to that which stole over the heart of his Master, while, pausing on the slope of the hills which stand round about Jerusalem, he wept over her crowded marts and cloud-capped pinnacles, hastening to a desolation already visi- ble to that prescient eye ; though hidden by the glare and tumult of life from the obdurate multitude below. It was a sadness soon to give place to an abiding serenity in the pre- sence of that compassionate Being who had condescended to shed many bitter tears, that he might wipe away every tear from the eyes of his faithful followers. ' Ora Atque Laboka !' — Albert Pike. [An example of the union of descriptive and didactic poetry.] Swiftly flashing, hoarsely dashing, Onward rolls the mighty river : Down it hurries to the sea, Bounding on exultingly ; And still the lesson teaches ever — Ora atque lahora ! Trembling fountains on blue mountains Murmuring and overflowing, Through green valleys deep in hills, Send down silver brooks and rills, Singing, while in sunlight glovnng, Ora atque labora ! Onward flowing, ever growing, In its beauty each rejoices ; While in Night's delighted ear. Through the amber atmosphere. Sounds the murmur of their voices — Ora atque lahora ! 8S6 PTJLPIT ELOCUTION. Archly glancing, lightly dancing, Eddies chasing one the other, Round old roots the current whirls, Over ringing pebbles curls ; Each rill singing to its brother, Ora atque labora ! Hoarsely roaring, swiftly pouring, Through tall mo: ntains cloven asunder, Over precipices steep, Plunging to abysses deep, The cataract's fierce voices thunder — Ora atque labora ! Sunlight shifting, white mist drifting. On its forehead, whence it marches, Swelled Avith freshets and great rains, Shouting, where, through fertile plains, 'T is spanned by aqueducts and arches — Ora atque labora ! Thus -Endeavour striveth ever. For the thankless world's improvement ; Each true thought and noble word By the dull earth though unheard, Making part of one great movement : Ora atque labora ! Work then bravely, sternly, gravely ! Life for this alone is given ; Wliat is right, that boldly do ; Erankly speak out what is true, Leaving the result to Heaven : Ora atque labora ! The Field op Battle. — Hall. [An example of the vivid ' Expression' which characterizes high- wrought graphic and dramatic description.] Science and revelation concur in teaching that this ball of earth, which man inhabits, is not the only world ; that mil- lions of globes like ours roll in the immensity of space. The sun, the moon, * those seven nightly wandering fires,' those twinkling stars, are worlds. There, doubtless, dwell other moral and intellectual natures ; passing what man calls time, MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 3Si in one untired pursuit of truth and duty ; still seeking, still exploring, ever satisfying, never satiating, the ethereal, moral, intellectual thirst ; whose delightful task it is, as it should be ours, to learn the will of the Eternal Father, — to seek the good, which to that end, for them and us to seek, hides ; and finding, to admire, adore, and praise, ' him first, him last, him midst and without end.' Imagine one of these celestial spirits, bent on this great purpose, descending upon our globe, and led by chance, to a European plain, at the point of some great battle ; on which, to human eye, reckless and blind to over-ruling Heaven, the fate of States and empires is suspended. On a sudden, the field of combat opens on his astonished vision. It is a field, which men call * glorious.' A hundred thousand warriors stand in opposed ranks. Light gleams on their burnished steel. Their plumes and banners, wave. Hill echoes to hill the noise of moving rank and squadron, — the neigh and tramp of steeds — the trumpet, drum, and bugle call. There is a momentary pause, — a silence like that which precedes the fall of a thunder-bolt, — ^like that awful stillness, which is precursor to the desolating rage of the whirlwind. In an instant, flash succeeding flash, pours columns of smoke along the plain. The iron tempest sweeps, heaping man, horse, and car, in undistinguished ruin. In shouts of rushing hosts, — in shock of breasting steeds, — in peals of musketry, in artillery's roar, — in sabres' clash, — in thick and gathering clouds of smoke and dust, all human eye, and ear, and sense, are lost. Man sees not, but the sign of onset. Man hears not, but the cry of — ' onward.' Not so the celestial stranger. His spiritual eye, unobscu- red by artificial night, — his spiritual ear, unaffected by me- chanic noise, — witness the real scene, naked in all its cruel horrors. He sees lopped and bleeding limbs scattered ; gashed, dis- membered trunks, outspread, gore-clothed, lifeless ; — brains bursting from crushed skulls, — blood gushing from sabred 382 PtJLPIT ELOCUTION. necks, — severed heads, whose mouths mutter rage amidst the palsying of the last agony. He hears the mingled cry of anguish and despair, issuing from a thousand bosoms, in which a thousand bayonets turn, — the convulsive scream of anguish from heaps of mangled, half-expiring victims, over whom the heavy artillery wheels lumber, and crush into one mass, bone and muscle and sinew — while the fetlock of the war-horse drips with blood starting from the last palpitation of the burst heart, on which the hoof pivots. * This is not earth' — would not such a celestial stranger exclaim ? — ' this is not earth' — ' this is hell !' — * This is not man I but demon, tormenting demon.' Thus exclaiming, would he not speed away to the skies, — his immortal nature unable to endure the folly, the crime, and the madness of man ? ' Not on the Battle Field.' — John Pierpont. [An example of the intense ' Expression' arising from vivid delineation ^ accompanied by profound and affecting sentiment.] Oh ! no, no — let me lie Not on a field of battle, when I die ! Let not the iron tread Of the mad war-horse crush my helmed head : Nor let the reeking knife, That I have drawn against a brother's life, Be in my hand, when death Thunders along, and tramples me beneath His heavy squadron's heels, Or gory felloes of his cannon wheels. From such a dying bed. Though o'er it float the stripes of white and red, And the bald eagle brings The clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings, To sparkle in my sight, Oh ! never let my spirit take her flight ! I know that Beauty's eye Is all the brighter where gay pennants fly, And brazen helmets dance, MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. And sunshine flashes on the lifted lance ; I know that hards have sung, And people shouted till the welkin rung In honour of the brave Who on the battle-field have found a grave. Such honours grace the bed, I know, whereon the wan-ior lays his head, And hears, as life ebbs out, The conquered flying, and the conqueror's shout. But as his eye grows dim, What is a column or a mound to him 1 What, to the parting soul, The mellow note of bugles ? What the roll Of drums ? No : let me die Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly, And the soft summer air. As it goes by me, stirs my thin white hau", And from my forehead dries The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies Seem waiting to receive My soul to their clear depths ! Or let me leave The world, when round my bed Wife, children, weeping friends, are gathered, And the calm voice of prayer And holy hymning shall my soul prepare To go and be at rest With kindred spirits, — spirits who have blessed The human brotherhood By labours, cares, and counsels for their good. And in my dying hour, When riches, fame, and honour, have no power To bear the spirit up, Or from my lips to turn aside the cup That all must drink at last, Oh ! let me draw refreshment from the past ! Then let my soul run back, With peace and joy, along my earthly track, And see that all the seeds That I have scattered there, in virtuous deeds, Have sprung up, and have given, Already, fruits of which to taste in heaven ! 384 PULPIT ELOCUTION. And though no grassy mound Or granite pile say 'tis heroic ground Where my remains repose, Still will I hope — vain hope, perhaps ! that those Whom I have striven to bless, The wanderer reclaimed, the fatherless, May stand around my grave. With the poor prisoner, and the poorest slave, And breathe an humble prayer, That they may die like him whose bones are mouldering there. Eeligious Principle thk Vital Element op Poetry. — Carlyle. [An example of ' Expression ' affected by nchle sentiment and elevated dic- tion. Y*^ Burns was born poor, and born also to continue poor ; for he would not endeavour to be otherwise : this it had been well could he have once for all admitted, and considered as finally settled. He was poor, truly ; but hundreds, even of liis own class and order of mind, have been poorer, yet have suffered nothing deadly from it : nay, his own father had a far sorer battle with ungrateful destiny than his was ; and he did not yield to it, but died courageously warring, and, to all moral intents, prevailing, against it. True, Burns had little means, had even little time for poe- try, his only real pursuit and vocation ; but so much the more precious was what little he had. In all these external re- spects his case was hard; but very far from the hardest. Poverty, incessant drudgery, and much worse evils, it has often been the lot of poets and wise men to strive with, and their glory to conquer. Locke was banished as a traitor; and wrote his Essay on the Human Understanding, shelter- ing himself in a Dutch garret. Was Milton rich or at his ease, when he composed Paradise Lost ? Not only low, but fallen; not only poor, but impoverished; *in darkness and * Passages like the above form useful elements for practice in the ap- propriate style of oratory on occasions such as those of literary anniver- saries and similar festivals. MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. 385 with dangers compassed round,' he sang his immortal son^, and found ' fit audience, though few.' Did not Cervantes fin- ish his work, a maimed soldier, and in prison ? Nay, was not the Aj-aucana, which Spain acknowledges as its Epicy written without even the aid of paper ; on scraps of leather^ as the stout fighter and voyager snatched any moment froms that wild warfare ? And what then had these men, which Burns wanted ? Two* things ; both which, it seems to us, are indispensable for suck men. They had a true, religious principle of morals ; and a single not a double aim in their activity. They were not self-seekers and self-worshippers ; but seekers and worship- pers of something far better than self. Not personal enjoy- ment was their object ; but a high, heroic idea of religion, of patriotism, of heavenly wisdom, in one or the other form, ever hovered before them ; in which cause, they neither shrunk from suffering, nor called on the earth to witness it as some- thing wonderful ; but patiently endured, counting it blessed- ness enough so to spend and be spent. Thus the 'golden- calf of self-love,' however curiously carved, was not their Deity ; but the invisible goodness, which alone is man's rea- sonable service. This feeling was as a celestial fountainj, whose streams refreshed into gladness and beauty all the pro- vinces of their otherwise too desolate existence. In a word,, they willed one thing, to which all other things were subor^^ dinated, and made subservient ; and therefore they accom- plished it. The wedge will rend rocks ; but its edge must be sharp and single : if it be double, the wedge is bruised in pieces, and will rend nothing. Part of this superiority these men owed to their age ; in which heroism and devotedness were still practised, or, at least, not yet disbelieved in : but much of it likewise they owed to themselves. With Burns, again, it was different^ His morality, in most of its practical points, is that of a mere worldly man ; enjoyment, in a finer or coarser shape, is the only thing he loves and strives for. A noble instinct some- times raises him above this ; but an instinct only, and acting 33 386 PULPIT ELOCUTION. only for moments. He has no religion : in the shallow age where his days were cast, religion was not discriminated from the 'New ' and ' Old Light' for?ns of religion ; and was, with these, becoming obsolete in the minds of men. His heart, in- deed, is alive with a trembling adoration ; but there is no temple in his understanding. He lives in darkness and in the shadow of doubt. His religion, at best, is an anxious wish ; like that of Rabelais ' a great Perhaps.' He loved poetry warmly, and in his heart ; could he but have loved it purely and with his whole undivided heart, it had been well. For poetry, as Burns could have followed it, is but another form of wisdom, — of religion ; is itself wisdom and rehgion. But this, also, was denied him. His poetry is a stray, vagrant gleam, which will not be extinguished within him, yet rises not to be the true light of his path, but is often a wildfire that misleads him. It was not necessary for Burns to be rich, to be, or to seem, independent ; but it was neces- sary for him to be at one with his own heart ; to place what was highest in his nature, highest also in his life ; 'to seek within himself for that consistency and sequence, which ex- ternal events would forever refuse him.' He was born a poet ; poetry was the celestial element of his being, and should have been the soul of all his endeavours. Lifted into that serene ether, whither he had wings given him to mount, he would have needed no other elevation. Poverty, neglect, and all evil, save the desecration of him- self and his art, were a small matter to him : the pride and the passions of the world lay far beneath his feet ; and he looked down alike on noble and slave, on prince and beggar, and all that wore the stamp of man, with clear recognition, with brotherly affection, with sympathy, with pity. Nay, we question whether for his culture as a poet, poverty, and much suffering for a season, were not absolutely advantageous. Great men, in looking back over their lives, have testified to that effect. ' I would not for much,' says Jean Paul, ' that I had been born richer.' And yet Paul's birth was poor enough ; for, in another place, he adds : ' the prisoner's allowance is MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. S^7 bread and water ; and I had often only the latter.' But the gold that is refined in the hottest furnace, comes out the pur- est ; or, as he himself has expressed it, * the canary-bird sings sweeter the longer it has been trained in a darkened cage.' A man like Burns might have divided his hours between poetry and virtuous industry ; industry which all true feeling sanctions, nay prescribes, and which has a beauty, for that cause, beyond the pomp of thrones : but to divide his hours between poetry and rich men's banquets, was an ill-starred and inauspicious attempt. How could he be at ease at such banquets ? What had he to do there, mingling his music with the coarse roar of altogether earthly voices, and bright- ening the thick smoke of intoxication with fire lent him from Heaven ? Was it his aim to enjoy life ? To-morrow he must go drudge as an Exciseman ! We wonder not that Burns became moody, indignant, and at times an offender against certain rules of society ; but rather that he did not grow ut- terly frantic, and ' run a muck ' against them all. How could a man, so falsely placed, by his own or others' fault, ever know contentment, or peaceable diligence, for an hour? What he did, under such perverse guidance, and what he forbore to do, alike fill us with astonishment at the natural strength and worth of his character. Doubtless there was a remedy for this perverseness : but not in others ; only in himself; least of all in simple increase of wealth and worldly respectability. Emblems. — James Montgomery. [An example of ' Expression' and ' Variation,' as produced by vivid sentiment. The successive stages of the style of elocution, in the read- ing of tliis piece, are those wliich indicate seriousness, solevinity, and aioe.\ An evening-cloud, in brief siLspense, Was hither driven and thither 5 It came I know not vrhence, And went I knew not whither : 1 watched it changing in the wind, — Size, semblance, shape and hue, POLPIT ELOCUTION. Fading and lessening, — till behind It left no speck in heaven's deep blue. Amidst the marshalled host of night, Shone a new star supremely bright : With marvelling eye, well-pleased to err, I hailed the prodigy ; — anon, It fell ; — it fell like Lucifer, A flash, a blaze, a train — 'twas gone J And then I sought in vain its place Throughout the infinite of space. Dew-drops, at day-spring, decked a line Of gossamer so frail, so fine, A fly's Aving shook it : round and clear, As if by fairy-fingers strung. Like orient pearls, at Beauty's ear, In trembling brilUancy they hung Upon a rosy brier, whose bloom Shed nectar round them and perfume : Ere long, exhaled in limpid air. Some mingled with the breath of morn, Some slid down singly, here and there, Like tears, by their own weight overborne j At length the film itself collapsed ; and where The pageant glittered, lo I a naked thorn. What are the living ? Hark ! a sound From the grave and cradle crying, By earth and ocean echoed round, — ' The living are the dying !' From infancy to utmost age, What is man's line of pilgrimage ? The pathway to Death's portal ; The moment we begin to be. We enter on the agony ; — The dead are the immortal ; They live not on expiring breath, They only are exempt from death. Cloud-atoms, sparkles of a falling star, Dew-drops, or films of gossamer we are : What can the state beyond us be 1 Life 1 — Deatli 1 — Ali ! no, — a greater mystery j ■ MISCELLANEOUS EXERCISES. What thought hath not conceived, ear heard, eye seen Perfect existence from a point begun 5 Part of what God's- eternity hath been : Wliole immortaUty belongs to none But Him, the first, the last, the Only One ! Parson Th acker's Day. — Columbian Magazine. [The object in view, in the practice of colloquial pieces, like the follow- ing, is to break up the habit of dry, monotonous reading, to which stu- dents, in general, are so prone. Flexibility of voice is greatly facilita- ted by such exercises, if the reading is done in the familiar and humor- ous strain implied in the peculiar style of the passage.] When ray brother E. was a little boy, his health was deli- cate ; and he was sent into the country to school, and there boarded at a great old farm house, one in the real New En- gland style, of which few specimens now remain. Here, in the first cold weather of aufumn, the family congregated about the kitchen fire, so as not to disturb the flower-pots which still ornamented the hearth of the keeping-room. The young student from Boston was accommodated, on one side of the fire, with a little stand, on which was placed a large iron can- dlestick, bearing a dipt candle with a wick an inch long, for the furtherance of his studies. Not being much inspired by the book under these circumstances, E. was wont to listen to the talk of an ancient dame, who sat with a perennial foun- tain of knitting-work, in a high-backed chair on the opposite side of the fire, bestowing various hints and cautions upon a young clergyman, lately ordained, and hoped he would be ' kerried through ' all the work which was before him, in the ministry of that parish. The young clergyman, city-bred, and only a guest at the farm-house, Hstened with deference, and replied very satis- factorily to most of the old lady's remarks : but he could not be made to understand very clearly, in what particulars he was likely to find his position more than usually difficult. He did not seem to doubt that he should be ' kerried through,' though he said so very modestly. 33* 390 PULPIT ELOCUTION. * Humph !' gaid the old lady, taking a spare knitting-needle from her work, and passing it gently under her cap with a reflective air, ' did you ever hear about parson Thacher's epT. • LD 21-5. i <^os7'^ll7^^ ^11 fa i- UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY