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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 AN ESSAY, 
 
 UPON THB 
 
 ACTION OF AN OR A TOE, 
 
 OB, 
 
 HIS PRONUNCIATION AND GESTURE ; 
 
 BEING THE 
 
 METRICAL VEESIOX OF AN OLD EXGLISH PROSE TRANSLATION. 
 
 PSOM THE 
 
 if«nr5 ot Simon JFoui'fjtt, of Dijon, 
 
 Who died at Paria, 1696, 
 
 BY FKANCIS ORTON, D. C. L. 
 
 INCUMBENT OF ST. GEORGE'S, ALTRINCHAM. 
 
 ALTRINCHAM ; 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS BALSHAVV, CHURCH STREET. 
 
 1848.
 
 ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.
 
 Ill 
 
 ?H 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO WILLIAM FLEMING, Esquire, M. D. 
 
 Of Broughton Vio-w, near Manclieater. 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 It being usual for authors, especially in 
 their first appearance before the Public, to solicit 
 the patronage of some kind friend of whose judg- 
 ment and talents there can be no doubt ; I could 
 think of no name Avhich would tend more to the 
 honour of my little performance, or be so welcome 
 to the eye of the reader as your own ; connected 
 as it is, with all the institutions of your city, 
 Humane, Scientific, and Literary ; so that there 
 is no one but will allow that you, and your Father 
 before you, have the highest claim to local estima- 
 tion, and deserve to be enrolled in the annals ot 
 Manchester, it having been his, as it is now your, 
 desire, to devote your time, talents, and wealth 
 to the promotion of the best interests of your 
 fellow citizens, and to be forward in every good 
 work. Hence wc find you at once, Chairman to 
 the Council of the Royal Institution — Vice-Presi- 
 dent of the Natural History Society, — and a 
 Member of the Literary, Philosophical, Botanical, 
 Geological and Cheetham Societies, &c. &c. &c.! 
 Associated, in fact, with all that is Humane, 
 Useful, and Ornamental, in our Northern Empo- 
 rium of Commerce ! 
 
 It is several years since 1 had the good 
 fortune, being Vicar of Hope, in Derbyshire, to 
 meet with a little book, of which this is a Metrical 
 Copy, in the house of a Pariishioucr at Great 
 Hucklow, when it struck me, that its njost valuable 
 
 837?rZS
 
 IV 
 
 hints, (though sadly in the rough, through the 
 coarseness of the Englisli phraseology of those days 
 into which it was traiiscrihed,) might he brought 
 to hear with considerahle advantage, upon a sub- 
 ject in which the Public is especially interested, 
 namely, the greater efficiency of the Pulpit, the 
 13ar, and the Platform, by a more popular, and 
 pleasing style of address. For my own improve- 
 ment and recreation, therefore, and to beguile the 
 long evenings of winter, I made the I'ranslation, 
 but with no idea of its publicity, until of late seve- 
 ral persons of excellent judgment after a comparison 
 of the Prose Version with my manuscript, urged 
 me to publish it, — still I paused, from a conviction 
 of the inad(!quacy of the performance, until you. 
 Sir, upon being consulted, w'ere pleased to add 
 your encouragements to the former, and allow me 
 the Privilege and Honour of inscribing it to you. 
 Under such favourable auspices, I could hesitate 
 no longer, and now my only hope is that it may 
 not prove altogether unworthy of your Patronage ; 
 and contribute in some degree to the advantage of 
 those for whose assistance it is written, namely, for 
 young gentlemen in course of education for the 
 Church, the Bar, or other departments, in which 
 good Elocution, and a handsome address are quite 
 indispensable. 
 
 With every acknowledgement of your kindness 
 and my best wishes for your Health and increasing 
 Honours, 
 
 Believe me, dear Sir, 
 
 With the Highest Esteem, 
 
 Your most obliged Friend, 
 
 THE TRANSLATOR.
 
 A TABLE OF CHAPTERS IN THIS 
 TREATISE OF ACTION. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Sets forth the Business of an Orator ; and treats of the Parts 
 of Oratory, and of Action in General. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 That Action is a laudable Study, both for Divines and 
 Lawyers; and it is neither indecent nor irreverent. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Directions about Action to Young Gentlemen, who wish to 
 speak well in Publick. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of Pronunciation ; and chiefly of the care we ought to take 
 of speaking, so as to be distinctly heard and understood with 
 ease. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 The care we are to take of being heard with pleasure and 
 satisfaction . 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Rules, in General, for the Variation of the Voice. 
 
 CHAP. vn. 
 
 Rules, in particular ; and chiefly for varying the Voice upon 
 all Subjects and Turns of Discourse whatsoever. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 How to vary the Voice according to the Passions.
 
 VI 
 
 CHAP. IX 
 
 Of varying the Voice nccordinp to to the dilTerent Parts of 
 a Discourse. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 How to vary the Voice according to the rigures of Rhetorick. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Of the ProuuDciation of Words and Sentences. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 Of Gesture, in General, 
 
 CHAP. XIII, 
 
 Particular Rules for Gesture, 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Concludes with Directions for putting the whole Work in 
 Practice. 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 For "Phthsis," read "Phthisis," page 43. 
 For "Unparaleird," read "UnparalleI'd," page 6; 
 For '■ Prosopcoia," read '* Prosopopoeia," page 64. 
 For "Ctetiphon," read " Ctesiphon," page 71.
 
 CHAP. I. 
 Zf)t Introlrurtion. 
 
 Setting forth the Necessity of Action in general, by several Examples. 
 
 No question but judicious Thoughts and Words, 
 Are the chief study of an Orator ; 
 And certainly convince the Judgment more 
 Than any thing in all the world besides. 
 We likewise readily concede that these, 
 Into due Order and Arrangement brought, 
 A knowledge quite distinct of what is said. 
 On the assisted memory impress ; 
 Whilst all the pleasing influence allow 
 Of Language, well selected, to adorn 
 The solid argument, and happy thought, 
 'I'hus set, as 'twere, in sparkling diadems. 
 Whence, by the greatest schools, the three first parts 
 Of Oratory, were defined to be 
 Invention, Disposition, Utterance. 
 But observations of the mighty power 
 Of what affects the Senses o'er the ^^ ill, 
 And Understanding, made them add a fourth. 
 Which very properly, was Action call'd ; 
 And its extensive sphere, the mien and voice. 
 This Action was regarded formerly 
 Of such importance that Demosthenes 
 Has made no scruple of accounting it 
 First, second, third, and all of Eloquence. 
 And Tully of the same opinion too, 
 Said that it had the sole and sov'reign power. 
 And sway supreme, in every public speech. 
 
 To write a Sermon, or to draw a Plea, 
 
 Denominated fine, or elegant, 
 
 B
 
 Were no hard matter, with the former gifts ; 
 
 Hut to afFect the hearers to the life, 
 
 And reach their hearts the Orator must add 
 V A pleasiiijj; gesture, and accordant voice ; 
 
 Or all will be dispassionate and dead, 
 
 Inadequate to wake, or keep the ear ; 
 
 Nay it has often been rcniark'd that men, 
 
 Well qualified Avith other excellence. 
 
 To speak in public, but deficient here, 
 
 Are heard with great impatience and contempt ; 
 ■ Through bad Pronunciation, awkward Mien ; 
 
 Whilst half their talents, with a good Address, 
 
 Will win the plaudits of the audience. 
 
 So widely does this influence extend. 
 That all the Senses, captive made thereby. 
 Feel the impression, and denounce or laud 
 The Speaker by his more or less of it. 
 Take an example which Philostratus 
 Gives in his Barristers — Philiscus shone 
 Superior to them all ; his tongue and pen 
 Were to perfection eloquent in Greek ; 
 His voice was also excellence itself. 
 Yet were these great advantages dcstroy'd 
 By his pronunciation, and his mien. 
 Erroneous and offensive to the eye : 
 So that the Emp'ror Antoninus said, 
 (Whose very nature led him to regard. 
 And countenance the learning of the bar,) 
 He would not grant the point he pleaded for, 
 And several others had before obtain'd ; 
 Nay more than this he bid him hold his tongue ! 
 
 Quintilian, on the other hand, relates 
 That Trachalus, though no great Orator, 
 Compar'd with some that flourish'd in his time, 
 Surpass'd them all in pleading ; for his look. 
 Commanding and majestic won the heart. 
 His Action was most graceful, and his voice 
 Came to the ear like a Tragedian's,
 
 Compos'd and grave, excelling far the best 
 That, in his day, was heard upon the stage. 
 So likeAvise, I myself, sometime ago, 
 Was present at a Nobleman's in France, 
 When an Address was read, which in itself, 
 Appear'd replete with depth of argument. 
 Beauty, and most effective eloquence. 
 If we had leisurely examined it ; 
 But most unhappily for all who heard, 
 And to the disadvantage of the speech, 
 It was deliver'd by a gentleman. 
 Who had not only an impediment, 
 But no more gesture than a very post ; 
 Or if the slightest, so unsuitable, 
 Unpolish'd, and offensive, that we thought 
 The time all thrown away in hearing it. 
 
 Again, some instances I also knew 
 
 Both in Divinity and Law, of men 
 
 With very slender merits, rising high 
 
 In public estimation, from th' effect 
 
 Their Sermons and their Pleas have gain'd for them. 
 
 Set off with Action and good Utterance. 
 
 In short, external graces work so well, 
 
 And cause such prepossessions in the mind, 
 
 That now-a-days they arc the every thing, 
 
 And he is nothing who enjoys them not. 
 
 To say this, by the by then. They who write 
 
 To a felicity, with all the gifts 
 
 Essential, save the last, do well to Print 
 
 Their learn'd Orations, adequate to pleas6 
 
 The reader in themselves, though wantmg all 
 
 The great advantages of hand and tongue. 
 
 And vice versa, they who may excel 
 
 In nothing but this Action should decline 
 
 The public scrutiny nor publish theirs ; 
 
 Lest what was heard with honour, in the book 
 
 Should meagre seem, and all its beauty fade. 
 
 Examples are not wanting ; Pericles, 
 
 b2
 
 liy all the Poets, was alloAved to be 
 'I'he most persuasive, as his pealin<? words 
 Hroke on the car, astouiuling all who heard ; 
 Or liis swift reasons flashed across th(^ mind, 
 Like lightning through the sky, till Greece herself 
 Trembled beneath his weighty arguments ; 
 Yet his orations never "went abroad, 
 , Because tlieir lustre in the Action lay, 
 Not in their composition, as he knew. 
 And therefore Plutarch says, we merely find 
 A few decrees and acts of his remain. 
 As to those speeches in Thucidides 
 Attributed to him, 'tis obvious. 
 They are by the historian^ not himself. 
 
 Hortensius, on the other hand, conceived. 
 But most erroneously, that what he said, 
 Was praised for its intrinsic excellence ; 
 And found not, till too late, that he was Heard 
 With greater pleasure than he could be Head. 
 His sprightly wit and graceful Action here, 
 Quintilian says, could not but disappear. 
 And this reminds me of a public speech, 
 Deliver'd by a gentleman of parts. 
 And graceful Action too, which gain'd applause; 
 But sometime afterwards, he foolishly 
 Consented to draw out the said Harangue ; 
 Which now had quite as much of just dispraise. 
 For when his hearers had examined it. 
 Without the charms of his harmonious voice. 
 His mien, and winning manner, in disgust 
 They straight denounced it as inelegant. 
 And hardly could believe it was the same, 
 That came with such acceptance from his lips. 
 
 This is the faculty which Tully styles 
 Corporeal eloquence — so main a point. 
 For the effect it has upon the mind. 
 That all must wonder, why in former times. 
 The ablest Rhetoricians pass'd it by,
 
 With only half the encomium it deserves. 
 
 Thus Aristotle deeni'd it quite a Gift, 
 
 And not within the compass of his art. 
 
 Nor in his treatises of Eloquence, 
 , Has Cicero done more than frequently 
 j Press Action, as a great accomplishment, 
 sy Without assigning it specific rules. 
 j It has indeed been treated more at large 
 \ By Cornificius, but what he says. 
 
 Poor in itself, is almost now forgot. 
 I Quintilian's extant treatise is the best 
 i w^ For nicety of method, and of wit ; 
 
 But then his rules are only for the bar, 
 
 Not for the Pulpit, though as needful here. 
 ■ Besides, among a many specimens, 
 I Which ought to be in fashion now-a-days, 
 i As much as they were then, he recommends 
 '^ Some truly foppish gestures, as, to beat 
 j The brow, the breast, the thigh — to stamp the foot, 
 ! And such like actions, which might do perhaps 
 i In his time well enough, but not with us. 
 
 Who live in a more chaste and polish'd age. 
 
 ' Wherefore, it being matter of regret. 
 
 That no such work as this appeared in print, 
 
 I'-specially, as many Orators 
 ■ I5oth in the Pxilpit and the Bar, should seem 
 i Defective in the art of speaking well ; 
 I With proper variation of the voice, 
 I ' Or Action correspondent with their words, 
 I (And as no other pen assum'd the task,) 
 I Solicited by many valued friends, 
 i Supported by two worthy gentlemen, 
 
 \\ ho had especial claims to my regard 
 I I coidd not, though I wish'd it, say them nay. 
 
 Such is the history of this little Tract 
 I And, till a better offer, lot me hope 
 
 It may, for their sake, find some countenance 
 
 Though, on the ^^'riter's own account, it fail. 
 
 n 3
 
 G 
 
 CHAP. n. 
 
 Shewiug that Action is advantageous both to Divines and Barristers 
 and may be used without any impropriety by the Clergy. 
 
 Divines and Barristers shouUl speak both well, 
 And witli the grace of Action- But 1 know 
 Some people will explode, at one coup d'ceil, 
 The object of this Essay, and maintain 
 That any cultivation of the voice 
 Or gesture is not needful in the Law, 
 And still more foreign to Divinity ; 
 Fantastical, as Cotta, who would use, 
 As Tully says, low words and obsolete, 
 Together with a clownish mode of speech. 
 Out of a fancy for Antiquity. 
 
 Others Avill needs object through idleness. 
 That they may shun the study it requires, 
 In order to proficiency therein, 
 All unambitious of the world's applause. 
 Too dearly purchas'd by a little pains. 
 Like these were they, in early christian times. 
 Who disapprov'd of any aid at all 
 From eloquence, in preaching ; till the plea 
 Of Chrysostom appear'd to sanction it. 
 And vindicate it from gross calumny, 
 In his discourses on the ministry. 
 There are some people, of splenetic turn. 
 Who nothing can approve that pleases sense. 
 However profitable to the mind ; 
 So that whatever strikes the present age. 
 As good, and called for, must offend their taste. 
 Yet if I had but these to satisfy. 
 And their objections only to remove. 
 Perhaps I might not let my spirits down.
 
 But others of good sense, and feeling too, 
 Though somewhat rigid in their views, believe 
 That it is wrong to call in human aid 
 Upon religious subjects, in the Church. 
 Now as 1 think that scruples of this kind. 
 Should be respected on so nice a point. 
 Let me endeavour to anticipate 
 Th' objections first, and then resolve them all. 
 
 They say this Action strikes them as unfit 
 For those who minister in holy things ! 
 Nay more, that it is scandalous, because 
 They should do something better than consult 
 How best to frame the voice, and move the hand, ^ 
 Whilst setting forth God's glory ! 'Tis enough 
 If of his sacred Majesty they think, 
 His holy Gospel, of his saints, and crown 
 Of glory that awaits them after death. 
 But to expect to bring men to the truth. 
 To holiness and usefulness, by pow'r 
 Of eloquence and action, were to sink 
 Religion into sense, and substitute 
 A carnal worship, wit, and flourishing, 
 For that which is alone acceptable, 
 1 Proceeding from the fervour of the heart: 
 And, on these principles, to make the Church 
 No better than a Theatre, a stage 
 To please the congregation with their airs 
 And graces ! These ambassadors of Christ ! 
 And stewards of his word ! To which they add. 
 That the Apostle's converts were not thus 
 Brought to repentance, faith, and holiness ! 
 
 Now this objection let me obviate 
 By saying first, that I have no design 
 To teach old men the art of speaking well. 
 Who have, through life, adopted their own style, 
 And like it, doubtless, whether good or bad. 
 If good, they have no need of any help ; 
 If bad, it is too late for them to mend.
 
 8 
 
 Although, perhaps, hy roacling in this 13ook, 
 
 \N ith patience, and (hic care, tliey niiglit correct 
 
 Tliose glaring errors wliich olFend the ear, 
 
 And are so prejudicial to their fame. 
 
 15ut to the Students of our Colleges 
 
 And Inns of Court, these pages may he found 
 
 Of some great service : for young gentlemen, 
 
 Who have not yet imbihed a vicious mode 
 
 Of speech or manner, are most apt to learn 
 
 The rules ami features of true eloquence. 
 
 Augustine's observation, which he makes 
 In his fourth Iwok upon the Christian Faith, 
 Explaining his design in sending out 
 His Helps to Pulpit Oratory, has, 
 Almost verbatim, the same arguments. 
 " Observe I do not recommend these rules 
 To elder persons in the ministry 
 But to young students, and of these alone 
 To such as have no natural defect 
 To bar their progress in this useful art." 
 The conscientious scruples some allege 
 Against this Action, and their arguments 
 For its disuse, would be invincible. 
 If preachers should be chiefly occupied 
 In studying these precepts, or bestow 
 More thought about an ornamental style. 
 Than how they best may preach the word of life. 
 Or if they gave the honour of the work, 
 In men's Conversion, to external means. 
 And, from no higher motive, should adjust 
 Their voice and hand, than for their own applause 
 And better estimation with their flocks : 
 This were a sin abhorrent to good men, 
 A sacrilegious crime of deepest dye, 
 A profanation of the Saviour's name ; 
 To make the ministry a laughing stock, 
 A theatre for their own vanity ! 
 Nor is it here design'd to lend a hand
 
 To any such iniquity and pride ; 
 But only to assist them so to speak 
 That they may edify, and not offend 
 Their hearers, by monotony of voice, 
 Or manner, quite inadequate to please. 
 
 The Rules which follow, will, I trust, be found 
 Consistent with the (xospel, nor beneath 
 'The dignity of Preaching, or the weight 
 Of any topic upon which they treat. 
 Nor unbecoming in the house of God ; 
 But of a nature to impress, and move 
 The hearts of all the hearers, to attend 
 To what is spoken for their real good. 
 Now, where's the harm of these advantages? 
 " ^Vhy, they rejoin, the man who is intent 
 " Upon his voice and mien, undoubtedly 
 " Bestows more pains to please, than profit them ; 
 " x\muse their fancy, than illume their minds !" 
 
 Let us admit the passions thus are charm'd ; 
 Still, as this object is subordinate, 
 Within the Speaker's mind, to nobler ends — 
 God's honour, and the welfare of their souls ; 
 Ought they to quarrel with the means employ'd 
 I'o win attention and secure this end ? 
 And should they not much rather eulogize 
 Such gen'rous efforts to instruct and please ? 
 The self-same Arguments, must needs remove 
 All scientific nmsic from our choirs, 
 \'ocal and instrumental, forasmuch 
 As this, no less than Action, is by art. 
 And yet, methinks they will not thus reflect 
 On Zion's Lyrist, or the sacred songs 
 I'un'd to the honour of Jehovah's name, 
 Which even Babylon desir'd to hear, 
 " Come, sing us one of Zion's tuneful hymns !" Ps. 137. iii. 
 
 Hereby too they reflect on Christ himself, 
 Who sang a hynm on that distressing eve, Mat. i6. xxx.
 
 10 
 
 When he went forth to hear our sin and shame, 
 And douhlless luuiul (as man,) rehcf therehy. 
 Added to which, th' Apostle recommends James 5. xii 
 All christians, in prosperity or woe, 
 To vent, in psalms and hymns, their joy or grief. 
 
 But they ohject still farther, and assert 
 That the Apostles never kept to rules 
 In their discourses, for the voice or hand! 
 Pray who inform'd them that these holy men 
 Employ 'd no action in their ministry ? 
 The contrary appears more probable ; 
 For two of them are Boanerges call'd Mark 3. xvii. 
 
 Or sons of thunder, whence we may infer, 
 I'hat they w-ere wont to preach with vehemence, 
 And in their declamations against sin, 
 Not with a faint and low, but mighty voice. 
 And ardent zeal, to set God's terrors forth. 
 So, when saint Paul, exhorts with many tears, 
 The Elders of the Church of Ephesus, Acts 2o. six . 
 To feed the Church of Christ ; can we suppose 
 He was less mov'd than all his hearers were. 
 Or was not their emotion from his own ? 
 I grant that the Apostles never made 
 This art their study ; nor did they require 
 The Grammar, or the Logic of the Schools, 
 Or any of the methods we adopt : 
 But shall we argue hence against the use 
 Of education in our colleges ? 
 Or written sermons, since they wrote not theirs ? 
 Not, surely, till we find ourselves like them 
 Inspired, to speak forth truth and soberness 
 Without premeditation, and enjoy 
 Their gifts, far greater than the choicest now ! 
 Till then we must be thankful to attain 
 To eminence, by ordinary means 
 Under the blessing of Almighty God. 
 
 Then, they possess'd the gift of miracles, 
 Which were no sooner wrought at any time.
 
 u 
 
 Than the conviction of the Gospel's truth, 
 Flash'd in upon the minds of all who heard, 
 And evidenc'd their mission from on high. 
 But not so now, since miracles have ceas'd, 
 Divine afflatus, and celestial power ; 
 So that no argument is tenable, 
 (Drawn from the early apostolic times,) 
 Against the Art and Ornaments of speech, 
 Unneeded then, but quite essential now. 
 
 Still all that has been said, will not suffice 
 With some opponents of our eloquence ; 
 Who urge " that it were better to confine 
 "This Action to the Theatre, where all 
 "The motive is to captivate the sense." 
 But with no shew of reason, for if they. 
 Comedians and Tragedians, on the stage, 
 Abuse their talents to gross Avickedness, 
 T' enflame the passions with a love of sin ; 
 How shall not we, the ministers of Christ 
 Strive so to use, as not abuse, God's gifts. 
 l?ut by them to advance his holy name, 
 To edify the Church, assist the faith, 
 And forward the salvation of mankind ? 
 All is resolv'd into the principles. 
 With which we prosecute our studies here ; 
 And if our motive be to touch the heart 
 With a more lively sense of things divine ; 
 To raise the soul above this fleeting world. 
 And its delusive joys ; we need not fear 
 But we shall be accepted and approv'd. 
 Were not the Tabernacle and the House of God 
 Adorn'd with gold of Egypt ? Or because Ex. 35. xxii 
 Some have profan'd, shall we neglect the gift ? 
 Such is our argument, and we desire 
 To be inform'd by these objectionists, 
 Whether a good Delivery and Mien, 
 The gifts of bounteous nature and of art, 
 Are not to be regarded and esteem'd,
 
 12 
 
 As talents for CiocFs service? Would (hey not 
 Be far more willins' to hear such a man .'' 
 l^lse why do tluiy, in most unmeasured terms, 
 Dispraise the preacher who has none of them — 
 lUit that they think, and justly, that he might, 
 ]>y industry, and art, and exercise, 
 Attain to mediocrity herein, 
 And ought, at least, to study to excel. 
 
 Thus for th' exception against Ministers, 
 Or Action of Divines. The Lawyers next, 
 Are gainsay'd in this study — Why ? " Because, 
 ISay our opponents, " God did not appoint 
 " 'I'he pid)lic courts of justice to this end, 
 " That Barristers should cut a figure there, 
 " Or captivate with sounds the Judge's ear : 
 " To warp his mind with fine spun eloquence! 
 " But to declare the plain unvarnisli'd truth, 
 " The simple facts, and argue thereupon, 
 " According to l^eports and Precedents, 
 " And cases parallel before adjudg'd. 
 "In doing this what need, they ask, of art, 
 " To modulate the voice, or please the eye 
 " By graceful gesture ? " None, Ave would reply, 
 Provided justice only were the rule, 
 And merit duly honour'd ; but we know 
 CAs Aristotle honestly remarks,) 
 That Lawyers are not always call'd to plead 
 Before Athenian Judges, upright men, 
 Of perfect probity and splendid gifts. 
 Who, with unwearied patience, heard both sides, 
 And without passion, or a prejudice 
 To either party ; nor a single thought 
 Beyond impartial justice in th' award ! 
 Thus circumstanc'd, there were no need of art, 
 \^ j l''.xordium, Peroration, or the flowers 
 : Of Rhetoric, because it would suffice, 
 I To make a simple statement of the facts, 
 I To serve his client and resolve the doubts
 
 13 
 
 Occasion'd by the counsel pro and con. 
 
 But as it often happens otherwise. 
 
 And judges of inferior talent sit 
 
 To try the several causes, and may err. 
 
 And innocently too, through reasoning 
 
 Fallacious and distortive of the case 
 
 By counsel for the plaintiff, it becomes 
 
 Of paramount importance to employ 
 
 The utmost talent to conduct the suit 
 
 With interest to the jury and the court. 
 
 Both to assist them in unravelling 
 
 The specious argument, collect themselves, 
 
 And -weigh impartially the evidence 
 
 For the defendant. And what better way 
 
 'J'o fix attention, prejudice repel. 
 
 Establish law, and fraudulence confront, 
 
 Than thus to plead with eloquential truth 
 
 In virtue's own behalf, the cause of all ? 
 
 Many a truly honest cause has failed 
 
 For want of Action. Thus, to name no more 
 
 That of Rutilius, which Cic'ro cites 
 
 In his first treatise of the Orator. 
 
 The counsel was Rutilius himself, 
 
 Cotta his nephew join'd with Mucius, 
 
 Who pleaded it so coldly and without 
 
 All ornament or life, as Tully states. 
 
 That it resembled more a Trial made 
 
 ideally in Plato's connnonwealth. 
 
 Than real life. No heartfelt sigh was heard, 
 
 Or exclamation, moan, or just complaint, 
 
 Imploring of authority, or ought 
 
 To win upon the auditors, no foot 
 
 \\'as heard, or hand uplifted in their eloquence, 
 
 As if they felt the matter. So it fail'd. 
 
 Entirely through mismanagement, and he, 
 
 Rutilius was banish'd, A Crassus had 
 
 Undoubtedly been quite successful here. 
 
 His elegant deportment, winning air, 
 
 And skilful pleading Avould have carried it,
 
 14 
 
 Acquitted him with honour and apphiuse. 
 
 And though we grant heroin Rutihus shewed 
 
 Great constancy of mind and confidence 
 
 In his own innocence by acting thus 
 
 With stoical indifference of the end ; 
 
 Yet can we not at all approve of it, 
 
 Or as a man, or as an orator. 
 
 For w^e should do our utmost to protect 
 
 Our name, our fortune, and profession too. 
 
 The Commonwealth could ill afford to lose 
 
 His presence, counsels, or his virtuous life. 
 
 liut after all perhaps he wish'd to leave 
 
 The government of Sylla, and reside 
 
 Retired, where he Avas lov'd, than in proud Rome 
 
 Where only jealousy and strife prevail'd. 
 
 Consider also that the voice and mien 
 Not only draw attention and assist 
 To make the judges cautious how they act, 
 But to convince them that the Barrister 
 Is in good earnest in his Client's cause; 
 These being, (Cornif.cius remarks) 
 The plainest symptoms of veracity 
 Sincerity and candour. That the heart 
 Most deeply feels the ev'ry word he speaks 
 Whereas the absence of this energy 
 Creates a doubt if what he say be true. 
 So unimpassion'd is his eloquence. 
 This gave occasion for that sarcasm 
 Of Cicero, when once an Orator 
 Evinc'd this frozen manner at the bar. 
 
 "If what you said, good gentleman, were true 
 Would you have pleaded it no otherwise, 
 Where Avas your <^rief, your fire and fury, sir ? 
 You shew'd no passion of the mind or frame. 
 So far from raising in us any warmth 
 Of sympathy, you sent us all to sleep." 
 
 When we advise the Lawyer to adopt 
 This handsome way of speaking, it is not
 
 15 
 
 That he may win upon the Judge's mind, 
 To blind it in the cause of sacred truth, 
 But on the contrary, by honest means 
 Oblige him to his duty ; to beware 
 Of listlessness and weariness therein, 
 To quicken his attention to the claims 
 Of injured innocence, and poise the whole 
 Of what is said, in justice's equal scale. 
 And were it not within our power to urge 
 Another argument, this were enough — 
 That we should labour to express ourselves 
 On every subject, as good sense and taste 
 Invariably dictate to us all. 
 
 Again, another plea I also add 
 
 Which seems considerable in itself. 
 
 And well deserving our opponent's ear ; 
 
 Namely, that if our Barristers decline 
 
 These lawful graces to assist their cause, 
 
 The unprincipled will use them to distort 
 
 And wrest sound judgment. And it seems but fair, 
 
 That counsel on both sides be talented. 
 
 In order to dispute on equal grounds. 
 
 The same will hold in reference to divines ; 
 
 And we may say of Action, in the words 
 
 Of Austin in his Christian doctrine, that 
 
 As Rhetoricians labour to persuade 
 
 On subjects true and false promiscuously. 
 
 Who dare assert that truth ought not to be 
 
 Defended against fiction or a lie ? 
 
 As if they that dispute against the truth. 
 
 Alone should have the furniture required, 
 
 To win attention and secure success, 
 
 And honest advocates have none of it ! 
 
 As if a falsehood should assume the air 
 
 Of credibility, through artifice 
 
 And energetic pleading; and the while, 
 
 Truth sufler prejudice from want of skill 
 
 To clear it from aspersion and deceit !
 
 in 
 
 Shall some with ease exert an influence 
 l^pon the i)ublic niinil, and move llu- soul 
 'I'his way or that, and to astonishment, 
 With joy or sadness even as they please, 
 By handsome action and a tuneful voice ; 
 And virtue's advocate stand motionless. 
 Dull, unconcerned, and almost impotent, 
 Nor raise a finger in her sacred cause ? 
 O who can bear to think of such a thing, 
 And will not henceforth labour to improve 
 The i;ii't of eloquence for gracious ends. 
 I'iSpecially as enemies to God, 
 And all his righteous servants, will be sure 
 T'avail themselves of every vantage ground. 
 To compass their own wicked purposes ! 
 
 But others yet there are who Avith disdain 
 This science treat as quite superfluous, 
 Because, as they allege, to us is giv'n 
 Pronunciation, and a gesture too 
 15y nature, all sufficient to express 
 The several passions of the human mind. 
 But this is just as if they should declare 
 That seeing God has given to the earth 
 Fertility to yield us bread and wine, 
 To nourish and restore our weaken'd frame, 
 'Tis therefore useless to employ the means 
 In ordinary vogue to cultivate 
 The yielding furrows for the scattered grain ! 
 ( )r that, as man by nature is endued 
 \\'ith intellect, unneedful to adopt 
 A systematic method to assist 
 The opening mind to exercise its powers ! 
 Or since he's fitted for a social life, 
 By interchange of thought and business, 
 He therefore need be. under »o concern 
 To study cDConomics, or the rules 
 Of civil or of moral policy ! 
 
 When arguments like these shall go for sense. 
 And not till then will we discard the aid
 
 17 
 
 Of science to improve the faculty, 
 
 The polish, and the purity of speech. 
 
 And vicious habits of untutored minds. 
 
 Yes, when it shall appear that Husbandry, 
 
 Is not required in order to produce 
 
 The golden harvest, in all soils alike 
 
 Spontaneous found ! And men have equal minds, 
 
 And every one from imperfection free. 
 
 Can solve with readiness each question rais'd. 
 
 As Avell without, as with, logistic help ! 
 
 When wisdom and discretion shall be found 
 
 In all their councils, with propriety 
 
 Of action to persuade, we then will yield, 
 
 But not before, our ev'ry argument ; 
 
 And close at once our colleges and schools. 
 
 At present, all our skill is requisite 
 
 To this perfection, for experience proves. 
 
 That earth is not productive everywhere 
 
 Of valuable fruits, but sterile some ; 
 
 Or yielding only brambles, thistles, thorns. 
 
 The next to nothing ! whilst the richest asks 
 
 Unceasing labour from the husbandman. 
 
 And as to men, they reason pretty well 
 On common matters ; but in higher things, 
 'Tis needful to assist the intellect 
 Of the most learned. — Thus in social life. 
 Within our cities, under fixed restraints. 
 And laws of intercourse, they may perchance 
 Do well enough ; but in their private walk. 
 Professions, callings, and capacities. 
 They many times betray an ignorance. 
 Or wilful dereliction of the rules 
 And precepts of morality. So all can speak 
 In ordinary, but for eloquence 
 Convincing, argumentative ; without 
 A careful education in the schools 
 Of art and grammar, we shall look in vain. 
 
 c
 
 18 
 
 And on the point of Action, they require 
 
 As much tuition. How uncouth are some, 
 
 How elegant are others to persuade 
 
 To please the eye, and charm the list'ning ear ! 
 
 And wake up all our sympathy and love! 
 
 This made the Ancients notice take of such 
 
 As shone the brightest in this faculty ; 
 
 And seeing that they were on this account 
 
 Far more persuasive and acceptable, 
 
 Have noted down with care the loading traits 
 
 Of voice and mien, which gained them such applause. 
 
 They likewise from considering the power, 
 
 And reason of their Action, have devis'd 
 
 Some precepts for its government ; address'd 
 
 Both to the students of those times, and all 
 
 Who now may wish to emulate their fame. 
 
 Those rules of Gesture and of Rhetorick, 
 
 Or for the Pulpit or the Bar, I give, 
 
 To finish what kind nature has begun : 
 
 And by a system, help them to attain 
 
 To such a happy mediocrity, 
 
 As shall from errors on the right, and left, 
 
 (The finical and slovenly,) be free ; 
 
 And with variety and emphasis, 
 
 Distinct and a propos, express themselves. 
 
 Demosthenes and Cicero arose 
 To all their eminence by these said rules ; 
 And, in the estimation of the world, 
 Had not their equals, or in Greece, or Rome. 
 The great Demosthenes indeed, at first, 
 Was nothing, nay, was voted from the bar 
 At Athens, and alone, on the account 
 Of bad Pronunciation. But by dint 
 Of patient application to the means 
 Propounded by the masters of the art, 
 He gain'd unrivalled admiration there ! 
 
 And that his great success was owing more 
 To action, than his eloquence appears
 
 19 
 
 From Eschines' remark upon a speech 
 
 Which he recited, though against himself, 
 
 Amongst the Rhodians, and \vith great applause. 
 
 On seeing them admire it, " Ah," he said, 
 
 " How would you then have cheer'd it, had you heard 
 
 It spoken by Demosthenes himself ?" 
 
 So Cicero, no less, when he began 
 To practise at the Bar was prais'd for wit ; 
 But his delivery was far from good. 
 With nothing captivating in his style. 
 Because he set no limits to his voice, 
 And suffered it untutored to offend 
 With sounds discordant, harsh, inelegant ; 
 But when this roughness had been polish'd off. 
 Its cadence soften'd with the greatest skill. 
 He was consider'd the most talented 
 Of all the Orators, and overruled 
 The judgment of the court in ev'ry cause 
 He took in hand, and with the greatest ease ! 
 
 Now after this, will any one presume 
 To say that precepts are superfluous 
 For Voice or Hand ? And will not all the world 
 Allow 'tis worth the while to study them ? 
 Or how can any pains be deem'd too great 
 To gain repute, and make us eminent ? 
 
 C 2
 
 20 
 
 CHAP III. 
 
 Directions for Action, to yoang Gentlemen who are ambitious 
 of speakings well in Public. 
 
 Bear then in mind the object of this book, 
 Namely, Th' assistance of young Gentlemen^ 
 Who may intend the Pulpit, or the Bar, 
 To be their future field — and first. 
 Let me most earnestly admonish them 
 Against delay, or error in the choice 
 Of tutors in this art. Against delay, 
 I cannot say too much. Let them begin. 
 If they would rise to eminence, betimes ; 
 And practise it as often as they can, 
 Ere imperfections creep into their style, 
 It being always easier to prevent 
 An awkward gesture, by a graceful one ; 
 And quaint expressions by more elegant. 
 Before, than after habits have been form'd, 
 Confirm'd by custom, rivited by time ; 
 For then 'tis very difficult indeed. 
 If not impossible, to leave them off. 
 In youth the mind is apter to imbibe 
 The rules of art, and mem'ry to retain ; 
 But Avith advancing years, the intellect 
 Becomes less vigorous and teachable : 
 True, at that period, men begin to feel 
 Their own deficiency with deep regret. 
 And may lament it, but the time is gone, 
 And to repair the loss, alas ! too late. 
 Of thirty, or of forty, precious years !
 
 21 
 
 A many worthy persons whom I know. 
 Have bitterly regretted their neglect 
 Of this most pleasing study ; and in vain, 
 At such an age, anticipate success. 
 One in particular, of shining parts. 
 And excellently qualified to speak 
 In public, but he never kept to rules 
 For voice or gesture ; so that when he found 
 His disadvantage, through a candid friend. 
 Who told him of this art, he felt afraid 
 Of making at his time of life, the change, 
 Lest it should never answer. — Certainly, 
 He judg'd most prudently in his own case : 
 For with his constitution, bold and warm. 
 Sanguine in whatsoever he espoused, 
 (Wherein his talent lay,) he had been cramp'd. 
 And fetter'd only, with the choicest rules ! 
 
 Another necessary caution, is, 
 To guard against the disadvantages 
 Of Nature, or of Habit, in the best 
 Of Tutors, or of Parents ; whom to love. 
 And imitate in points of excellence — 
 Becomes our duty ; but we must avoid 
 The imitation of their blemishes ; 
 Which contradict the laws of Rhetorick, 
 Or this said Action ; even as we shun 
 (On moral and religious principles) 
 Ought that offends the Majesty on high. 
 In those we most esteem : but chiefly youth. 
 As Alcibiades, mistake it here — 
 Who fancied he must copy out his sire, 
 In speaking thick and fast, one word, as 'twere, 
 Upon another — and abroad, no less. 
 Turning his neck, and tossing up his head. 
 Tiptoe, just like him, in the streets, with gown 
 Dragging behind him, quite effeminate, 
 Or foppish, one; degrading to a man. 
 For which Archippus chid him to his face. 
 
 C 3
 
 O) 
 
 Plato's disciples, out of compliment, 
 Shrugg\l up their shoulders just because he did ! 
 And Aristotle's even went so far, 
 As to alfect his painful stammering ! 
 
 So Alexander, 'cause Leonidas 
 Destroy'd his Soldiers, needs must do the same ; 
 And led them by forc'd marches to the field 
 Without an interval, till overcome. 
 Not by the sword, but sheer fatigue, they died. 
 
 The same has been remark'd in colleges ; 
 When any celebrated lecturer, 
 (On classical accounts,) has got the way 
 Of breathing short, at every syllable ; 
 Or an impediment, provincial brogue, 
 Or unbecoming air ; the consequence 
 Will be, that, more or less, his auditors, 
 Unconsciously will catch the same defect ; 
 Because he is the model of them all ; 
 And as he is himself, so they will be ! 
 
 This observation holds with public men, 
 Of all departments. Thus fam'd Bresson rosa. 
 Monsieur du Vair remarks, above all praise 
 For eloquence ; yet this fine orator. 
 And most illustrious President, display'd 
 No grace of Gesture ; but inanimate 
 In the extreme, deliver'd his harangues. 
 Without one look towards the Senators ; 
 For fear, as it was thought, his memory 
 Should thereby sufier inconvenience ; 
 lience, not a finger, nor an eye must move ! 
 
 Let then all imperfections such as these. 
 And others, be avoided with due care, 
 By all who wish to shine as orators : 
 And whilst they labour to avoid their faults,
 
 23 
 
 Let them no less imbibe their excellence. 
 
 Nor think that Action makes amends for all — 
 
 As Seneca's disciples, for his skill 
 
 In elocution, substituted noise ! 
 
 A truly wise, and choice philosopher. 
 
 And a rare pattern for aspiring youth, 
 
 In former times ; but, as Quintilian says, 
 
 He also had a number of good faults ; 
 
 And these unhappily were more in vogue. 
 
 And sooner learnt, than his philosophy. 
 
 And hence his pupils, in their vain attempt 
 
 To follow him, did but the rather draw 
 
 Discredit on their master's just renown. 
 
 Whom they dishonoured by their foppery ! 
 
 So, at this present time, we may observe 
 
 Not only students, but experienced men. 
 
 Adopting the same vices in their style. 
 
 And choice of words ; as if it were enough. 
 
 To follow Seneca through thick and thin. 
 
 Despite of reason, and our common sense ! 
 
 b-^ '^' 
 
 C 4
 
 24 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of Speakingf ; and first of all what the Orator must do, to 
 be heard without difficulty aud trouble. 
 
 The first, and most considerable point, 
 Is the Pronunciation ; as regards 
 The satisfaction of the Public ear ; 
 The organ of all learning, or the sense 
 Of Discipline, as it may well be term'd ; 
 Seeing thereby, the very elements 
 Of wisdom and of science are convey'd 
 Into the understanding. Give me leave 
 Then, first of all, to press upon your mind. 
 The Orator's chief object — To be heard, 
 And understood with ease.- — For otherwise. 
 It were lost labour to stand up at all. 
 And if but partly heard, or with great pain. 
 Two disadvantages would thence arise — 
 People would not be willing to bestow 
 The trouble it required, to make him out. 
 For any length of time — or secondly. 
 This close attention to the simple words. 
 Would shut out all improvement of the mind, 
 From the intrinsic matter of the speech ; 
 Our chief desire in every thing we hear. 
 Now, to avoid these evils, he must have 
 A voice both clear and strong ; if not like that 
 Trachalus had, of whom Quintilian speaks, 
 (That when four courts within the Julian Hall 
 Were sitting to hear causes, and dispense
 
 25 
 
 The claims of public justice, he was heard, 
 
 And understood, not only bj' the first 
 
 Where he was pleading, but throughout the room,) — 
 
 Yet such a voice as w ill at least pervade 
 
 The place where he is speaking ; to the end, 
 
 As Austin well observes, " That he who sits 
 
 The most remote may hear and understand." 
 
 Some men by nature have a voice like this ; 
 
 Others have part by nature, part by art ; 
 
 The latter perfecting, what that began. 
 
 Where nature has bestowed this faculty 
 To a degree of excellence, a gift 
 For public speaking is discerned at once. 
 If he discharge his duty, and improve 
 So good a talent, to right worthy ends. 
 But on the other hand, if nature give 
 No power of voice; his lungs, his throat, his tongue. 
 Organically weak ; or if he lisp. 
 Or hesitate, or falter in his speech — 
 I counsel him, as ApoUonius did. 
 Those gentlemen who would have learnt this art : 
 As soon as he perceiv'd they wanted all 
 The requisite endowments, he pronounced 
 Their incapacity, and plainly said, 
 " He would advise their studying something else. 
 Rather than rack their brains, without a chance 
 With all the help of man, of much success ;" 
 Or run the risk of injuring their health, 
 Than which no greater blessing is on earth !" 
 But if a man possess the requisites 
 Of Oratory, save the voice alone ; 
 That is, sound judment to invent and clothe 
 In polish'd language all his arguments. 
 On any subject ; let him turn his gifts 
 To good account on paper, as we find 
 Isocrates conceiv'd he ought to do. — 
 In his Athenian Festivals, he says,
 
 •^ 
 
 20 
 
 " I knew my nature was too delicate 
 
 I'^or Action, and my voice too feeble far, 
 
 'J'o plead in public for o\ir Commonwealth. 
 
 In this respect, I felt inadequate ; 
 
 And yet il seem'd that I was capable 
 
 Of quite as much research as other men, 
 
 Who boasted of a deeper knowledge far ; 
 
 Though not to speak it off so fluently, 
 
 l^ecause I felt myself, in two main points, 
 
 Unfitted for an Orator; the one, 
 
 Sufficient nerve ; the other, a strong voice ! 
 
 And they that arc not furnish'd first with these. 
 
 Should not anticipate forensic praise. 
 
 However I had so much courage yet, 
 
 As to attempt renown another way — 
 
 By private study of Philosophy, 
 
 With my own comments ; not on little things. 
 
 As cov'nants, bargains, deeds, or contracts made 
 
 'Tween man and man ; but chiefly on the state 
 
 Of Greece, and the affairs of Government. 
 
 Thus, though good speaking and fine gesture give 
 To Composition its chief ornament — 
 A man may shine in print, if he adorn, 
 Instead thereof, his writings with the grace. 
 And beauty of expression. ; cadences 
 Smooth, and delicious to the list'ning ear ; 
 With sprightly turns, and figures intermix'd, 
 I'h' embellishments of wit and eloquence ; 
 So that his writings, of themselves shall be 
 Agreeable enough, without the hand, 
 Or voice of some great Orator, as were 
 The tuneful periods of Isocrates. 
 
 But let not, for all this, a man despair 
 Of mediocrity, whose voice is weak : 
 For, with due care, it may be much improved. 
 And strengthen'd for his purpose at the bar.
 
 '^t 
 
 Or in the pulpit ; as Demosthenes 
 
 O'ercame the disadvantages of his ; 
 
 As Plutarch, his biographer relates : 
 
 For having- ventured into public twice, 
 
 With all his imperfections, he was hiss'd 
 
 On both occasions; whereat much chagrin'd, 
 
 He made his plaint to Satyrus, and said, 
 
 " I take more pains than any other man, 
 
 But cannot please the people." " Well, replied 
 
 The famous actor, " I will mend your voice-" "' 
 
 And hereupon, he caus'd him to repeat 
 
 Some verses, either from Euripides, 
 
 Or Sophocles, but murdered you are sure, 
 
 (Because of his impediment,) and then 
 
 Recited the same passages himself ; 
 
 With all the elegance and classic taste 
 
 Required to set them off At once, he saw 
 
 And felt his own defects, and wretched style ; 
 
 Nor longer wondered that he miss'd success : 
 
 Especially when Eunemus of Thrace, 
 
 And Andronicus gave the same advice — 
 
 So that he fell at once upon the art 
 
 Of Speaking, and of Gesture, in this way : — 
 
 " He made a small apartment under ground. 
 And thither he resorted, day by day, 
 To practice speaking, and this action too : 
 Nay so determiu'd was he to succeed, 
 That fearing interruption, he immured 
 Himself for months together in this cave. 
 And when obliged to break from his retreat, 
 For business or diversion, he Avould shave 
 His head half way, that he might not appear 
 In the costume he wore in privacy. 
 Here, with increasing earnestness, he spake, 
 The declamations he had learnt by heart ; 
 Adopting such a Gesture as he saw. 
 Within a full length mirror, was the best 
 
 /
 
 2S 
 
 And most approved by masters of the art. 
 Whilst this was going on, the chest and kings 
 Expanded, and acquired augmented power. 
 Init he had other troubles to surmount; — 
 For his articulation was so bad, 
 That indistinction marked his ev'ry word. 
 And there were letters in the Alphabet, 
 With all his labour he could not pronounce ; 
 R, in particular ; whence people said, 
 " He did not know th' initial of his art." 
 N(n- could he read a single clause entire, 
 Without an inspiration of the breath, 
 Midway, at least, to help him to the end. 
 He also had to overcome the noise 
 Of public courts. These were his obstacles ! 
 And for the first, his painful remedy 
 Was speaking with some pebbles in his mouth ; 
 Thus fettering his tongue yet more and more ! 
 But afterwards, when these had been removed, 
 He knew what liberty of speech implied. 
 And could, with comfort utter anything. 
 To cure his breathing, he would climb the hills. 
 And as he ran, repeat some verses off! 
 And last of all, the buzz of crowded courts, 
 Was made familiar to him, by the sea. 
 When lash'd into a tempest with the winds : 
 For on the murmaring shore he read aloud, 
 And tried to raise his voice above the waves ! 
 Thus he at length attain'd a name by far 
 The most distinguish'd both for eloquence 
 And elegance of Action ! — Well, bestow. 
 As he did, equal pains, and you no less 
 Shall at the Bar, or in the Pulpit shine. 
 
 But to be more particular, your voice. 
 You say, is weak ! 1 o strengthen it, rehearse 
 Or read aloud, (with moderation,) one 
 Or more choice extracts daily ; taking care 
 Not to o'erstrain your voice : and so, your health
 
 29 
 
 Shall not decline, but rather be improv'd. 
 
 Pkitarch, in recommending excercise 
 
 To other people, such as may divert. 
 
 Or aid the constitution, wisely adds, 
 
 Cln reference to the Lawyer,) Let him use 
 
 The exercise peculiar to the bar ; 
 
 For none so good as this, it thins the blood 
 
 Increases nat'ral warmth, and opens all 
 
 The pores, and keeps the circulation free 
 
 From gross and thickening humours in the frame ; 
 
 While other labour only sets the limbs 
 
 In play, a far more worthy work is here ; 
 
 To exercise the nobler parts of man ; 
 
 His chest, his lungs, his voice, his very heart. 
 
 But if at first, it seem too violent ; 
 
 Begin quite low, as Ambrose did, for fear 
 
 His private speaking, should impair his lungs 
 
 For public declamation — Only mind 
 
 To read at times a page or two, quite loud. 
 
 Lest the voice suffer in its energy. 
 
 Are you a falterer in your speech ? Observe 
 Distinction in your words and syllables, 
 In all your private reading; and bestow j 
 
 A full proportion of the sound on each. — >. 
 
 And when this plain, intelligible mode 
 Of speaking is acquir'd, you may proceed 
 To greater fluency without a fault. 
 But if you find a proneness to break down. 
 On certain words and phrases, substitute 
 A smoother particle or two, or word 
 Synonymous, for that which leases you, 
 x'^nd this will bring you pleasantly to port. 
 
 And if you cannot soimd the letter R, 
 After your utmost pains to master it, 
 So that you rather fall into despair, 
 A^jainst an obvious incapacity ;
 
 30 
 
 Vet be ailvist'd to labour at it slill, 
 And use all means within the power of art ; 
 For though the Athenians -withTso nice an ear 
 Might tolerate in Alcibiades 
 The imperfection, as their favourite ; 
 Or think his other virtues made amends ; 
 Or that this single blemish added charms 
 To all his other gifts ; yet stammering, 
 Is, notwithstanding, an egregious fault ; 
 Offends the ear, and often dubious makes 
 The speaker's meaning, and to ridicule 
 Exposes him ; as in the Theatre 
 At Athens, if what the poets say be true. 
 For all which reasons, you should aim at least, 
 At its removal, with Demosthenes : 
 And if you cannot so distinctly sound 
 ^ The letter R, as he, at length contriv'd, 
 
 With all the ease and clearness in the world ; 
 You may succeed so far, as to prevent 
 The slightest pain, in the discerning ear. 
 
 Again, some persons have another vice 
 Called Plateasm, by the learned Greeks, 
 Or a broad way of speaking ; with the mouth 
 Wide open, boisterous, but indistinct. 
 As the far sounding billows of the sea ; 
 Or roaring of the lion in the Avoods 1 
 And this they fondly take for majesty, 
 And think it adds a weight to what they say ; 
 A weight of empty noise it perhaps does ; 
 A weight of disadvantage to the voice ! 
 \y Whose chicfest beauty is to be distinct, 
 Soft, and intelligible to the mind. 
 Five or six words pronounced in such a storm 
 Will dissipate the meaning of a clause ; 
 And many sentences so boisterous, 
 A whole discourse ; from which the auditors 
 Derive no pleasure, nor the speaker praise.
 
 31 
 
 Contrariwise, there is what Grecians call 
 Coelostomy, a mumbling with the lips, 
 As if the words could not escape therefrom ; 
 Or pent within a cave, or hollow churn. 
 Were struggling all they could to catch the air ; 
 Or, for the clinching teeth, could not express 
 One syllable, with due propriety. 
 This hollow way of speaking, is as bad 
 As that of Plateasni, if not worse. 
 
 Two words, and I have done upon this head ; 
 A public speaker, to be understood, 
 Must have a voice articulate and clear, '^ 
 
 And a Pronunciation vigorous ; 
 The former is most needful of the two ; 
 For if a man have an indifferent voice. 
 But clear and quite distinct, he will be heard 
 With far more ease and profit, than the man. 
 With less articulation, though more strength. 
 
 A worthy person, who for many years. 
 Was my much valued friend ; of slender powers. 
 But speaking most distinctly all he says, 
 Is heard with admiration ; if his age 
 Has not remov'd him from a public life. 
 
 The next to this is Audibility, 
 Or strength of voice to fill an ample space. 
 Now this is not to be attained at once, 
 But by degrees ; till that which at the first. 
 Was but a faint, a low, and feeble voice. 
 By exercise insensibly becomes 
 Stronger and stronger, (nor with prejudice, 
 But benefit to health,) till finally. 
 It reach to that perfection, which (unless 
 We make the trial,) is incredible !
 
 32 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 The Way to be heard with delight. 
 
 A speaker never should be satisfied 
 With being heard distinctly without pain ; ." 
 liut aim at giving pleasure and delight ; 
 And with a view to this, endeavour, first. 
 To make his voice, as much as in him lies. 
 Soft and agreeable to every ear ; 
 And if he find it naturally harsh, 
 Hoarse, or immoderately loud, enquire 
 Into the reasons ; for perhaps it may 
 Arise from habit, as with many men — 
 And must be cured by counter practising 
 The voice, and reading in a quiet way. 
 
 But if it spring from natural defect 
 Within the organs, he must seek the cure 
 In regimen, and the Physician's skill, 
 And constant exercise. For regimen, 
 I leave it to the Doctors : for exercise. 
 The morning is the season most approv'd 
 For study, when the mind, and body too, 
 Refresh'd with sleep, have far more energy. 
 
 M NoAv that this art of softening the voice. 
 
 And curbing the extent of utterance, 
 May be acquir'd by care and exercise. 
 Is plain, from Cicero, who, Plutarch says, 
 Had at the first, before he went to Greece, 
 A rude, obstrep'rous voice, but staying there 
 Awhile, he so completely conquered it. 
 That all who heard its sweetness were amaz'd !
 
 33 
 
 The Student then must labour to impart 
 A smoothness to his voice, that all its tones 
 And chasten'd measures, may afford delight. 
 E'en though the audience should be Foreigners, 
 Nor understand the tongue in which he speaks. 
 As in the case of those great Orators, 
 Adrian and Phavorinus, who declaim'd 
 In Greek, with so much sweetness, that e'en such 
 (According to Philostratus) as were 
 Quite strangers to the language, would attend ! 
 
 And let me next advise the abstinence 
 From coughing, at each period in the speech ! 
 A most disgusting vice, injurious 
 And prejudicial to the best discourse: 
 Which, that it may be cur'd, as being more 
 Th' effect of habit, than necessity, 
 Appears from common observation made ; 
 Because most speakers do refrain from it. 
 And a Divine I know, who never coughs ; 
 No matter whether he accomplish it 
 Through persevering care, and self-control ; 
 Or, as perhaps it may, his energy, 
 And ardour in the service check the rheum : 
 However, so it is ; and hence, at least, 
 1 argue that a man may shun the fault, 
 (Unless phlegmatic to a high degree,) 
 And will, by ev'ry effort in his power. 
 Contrive to spare his congregation pain. 
 
 Surely our Clergy will not imitate 
 Th' affected cough of Monsieur Maillard ; 
 Who in a sermon preach'd at Bruges, mark'd 
 The paragraphs at which he meant to cough ! 
 With ' Hem, hem, hem', as still appears in print ! 
 
 D
 
 The next iinj)ortant matter which I urge 
 l^pon your care and time, is to adopt 
 As much variety as possible, 
 (According to the subject) in'your voice ; 
 And as the passions Avhich you would excite, 
 Within the breasts of others, shall require ; 
 b^tronger or weaker, loud or soft, as best 
 May serve your purpose, and promote your end : 
 For as a fiddler, scraping on one string, 
 With music most tormenting to the ear. 
 Becomes ridiculous ! so he who reads 
 Or speaks, but always in the self-same key ! 
 
 I have observ'd that this monotony, 
 Is a prevailing error in the church. 
 And though, indeed, no voice that fills the place. 
 Can fail of having something we admire ; 
 Yet how much better mjoht it not be made 
 If varied and adjusted to the life ? 
 Besides, such voices, as ill government 
 Is not entirely able to destroy. 
 Are very rare ; whilst ordinary ones. 
 Are good for nothing, if monotonous. 
 
 But to proceed, this uniformity. 
 Not only is unpleasant to us all, 
 But prejudices the discourse itself; 
 Defeating its impression on the mind. 
 And for two reasons ; one of them, because 
 This equal way of speaking, where no stress 
 Is laid on any part above the rest. 
 Makes all the features of the speech alike ; 
 And most unjustly so ; diminishing 
 If not destroying, all the weight and power 
 Of reason, and of argument ; nor less 
 All ornaments and lustre from the tropes, 
 And figures introduced in the address : 
 So that in short, what ought to strike the mind, 
 Affects it not at all, by being said 
 Without distinction or variety !
 
 35 
 
 The other is, that nothing so inclines 
 To sleep or dulness, as monotony : 
 And there are many, who although they strive 
 Against it all they can ; and keep their eyes 
 Upon the preacher, with the utmost pains, 
 Resolv'd to hear him out, if possible ; 
 Fall fast asleep, before he has half done ; 
 And simply for the reasons here assign'd. 
 Strange that so great an evil should prevail 
 Amongst our public speakers, as it does ! 
 
 I was myself, indeed, at setting out 
 In life, addicted to this very fault ; 
 And often wonder people could endure 
 To hear me speak, when I could not abide 
 The sound of my own voice ; till afterwards 
 I varied it as often as I could. 
 To make it less ungrateful. First of all, 
 I fell to musing on this vicious mode. 
 So prevalent in others and myself. 
 Some quite unconsciously adopting it ; 
 And others knowing well its viciousness. 
 Unwilling to bestow the needful care 
 To check the growing evil ? till at length, 
 I think I trac'd its baneful origin 
 As follows — When we first begin to read, 
 If we but call the letters right, no pains 
 Are taken with us to discriminate 
 Between the sounds ! we go to grammar school. 
 And study Rhetoric ; 'tis quite as bad ; 
 The measure and the method are the same ; 
 Without correcting the monotonous, 
 i\nd hum drum way of speaking we have got ; 
 The master rather gives encouragement 
 To this offensive habit, saying off, 
 And reading with us in another voice 
 Than that in which he speaks when out of school ; 
 All in one accent, one unvaried tone ! 
 
 I) 2
 
 36 
 
 Instead of which, the voice shoakl then he train'd 
 
 To the variety of which we speak ; 
 
 How to proportion all its emphasis, 
 
 According to the subject we're upon 
 
 At ev'ry turn, and figure of the speech, 
 
 And as the room and audience may require, 
 
 To the delight, and benefit of all. 
 
 The consequence of these reflections was. 
 
 That I determin'd to have better help 
 
 From Nature, and from Reason, now my guides : 
 
 And, in my judgment, all who would attain 
 
 To any excellence, must do so too ! 
 
 Nature is plain enough in what she says ; 
 Namely, that when we speak of doleful things, 
 It ought to be in quite another key 
 Than upon Joyous subjects, festal days ! 
 When we reprove our hearers for some fault ; 
 Or would convince them of our sympathy. 
 In their distress. In one way to Upbraid, 
 Another, Avhen we make apologies. 
 
 Again, in Promising, she teaches us 
 To use one kind of voice ; another, when 
 We humbly sue out pardon for offence ; 
 When speaking in good humour, calm, sedate. 
 And under anger, peevishness and pain ! 
 
 This variation is so natural. 
 That if we could but hear two disputants. 
 And in another language, we might tell 
 Which bosom heav'd with anger or alarm — 
 Which, with the influence of joy or grief 1 
 These diff'erent emotions would appear 
 Not only in the countenance and air. 
 But in the tone, and cadence of the voice ; 
 So that Pronunciation ought to be 
 As nature dictates, let the subject turn 
 On whatsoever point : and here, observe. 
 That the most unaff'ected, is the best !
 
 37 
 
 A ready way by which we may succeed, 
 In varying the voice, is to observe 
 The difference in ordinary chat. 
 And table talk, we always make ourselves. 
 The warmth with Avhich an injur'd -woman speaks 
 Of all her wrongs ! and how, when she laments 
 A tender husband dead, or only child ! 
 Then try to imitate these passions well. 
 Supposing circumstances to require. 
 Allowing, for the place, a louder tone ; 
 A spacious Church, for instance, or a Court, 
 And not a private closet. On the stage. 
 Tragedians thus adapt their voice to fill, 
 (And in a nat'ral way) the Theatre. 
 
 Then, as to Reason, it instructeth us 
 That God has blessed us with the faculty 
 Of speech above all creatures ; and with words 
 For the interpretation of our thoughts. 
 And mirror of our passions ; to the end. 
 That, out of duty to ourselves and Him, 
 We should set forth his truth to all mankind ; 
 And speak our sentiments, with high disdain 
 Of falsehood ; and, with glowing zeal, inspire 
 The hearts of others in the sacred cause ! 
 It likewise teaches us that when the Earth 
 Was first created, God, in general. 
 Divided it into the many shapes. 
 And forms and figures, we so much admire ; 
 Mountains and Vallies interchangeably. 
 In order that our sev'ral tastes might find 
 Exhaustless pleasure in the rich survey ! 
 
 So in the structure of the human frame : 
 The many members, all distinct, unite 
 To make one perfect whole ; and beauty give. 
 To what were otherwise a cumb'rous mass, 
 And not available, as now it is, 
 To all the purposes of useful life !
 
 38 
 
 Hence we infer, that this Variety 
 Is no less needful to the Orator ; 
 (According the figures he employs, 
 And object in his view) than classic taste, 
 Invention, and judicious choice of words ! 
 
 Would you then polish, and refine your speech, 
 Set off your Pleas and Sermons with a grace 
 And air of elegance, engaging all 
 With pleasure to attend to your harangues ? 
 Imprint the little word ' Variety ' 
 Deep on the tablet of your memory ; 
 Together with the Precepts which ensue.
 
 30 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 General Rules for the Variation of the Voice. 
 
 As then the body has three measurements, 
 In length, and breadth, and thickness ; so the voice 
 Is loud, or soft, slow, rapid, high or low ; 
 According as the speaker has a mind : 
 Whose chief endeavour is to modulate 
 Its various tones, to gratify the ear ; 
 And keep the happy medium in all. 
 For, as in other things, extremes are bad ! 
 And therefore let the Orator avoid 
 'Ihe utmost pitch of what his lungs allow ; 
 And, on the other hand, the lowest notes ; 
 For to be always up to such a strain 
 Were not to preach, or plead, but make a noise, 
 Like some whom.Tully pleasantly compares 
 To cripples who must needs on horseback ride, 
 Because they cannot travel on their feet. 
 So these must raise their voices to a height 
 Beyond all bounds ; as Pliny did himself 
 Before he took instructions in this art. 
 Such over great exertion chokes the voice. 
 With hoarseness, and offends the auditors. 
 .\lso, to sink it to the lowest note. 
 Is not to speak, but mutter a discourse ; 
 Inaudible to more than half around, 
 Who were as well away, for any good 
 Deriv'd from such a umnibling orator !
 
 40 
 
 Capella Martianus seems to err, 
 Or else is not quite clear, when he directs 
 The Orator in reading bj himself. 
 To set about it lather in a low. 
 Than in a loud, and elevated tone. 
 Before he pleads in public ; to acquire 
 A proper standard ! Surely he mistakes 
 For how could he be heard or fill the place 
 With voice at this low pitch ? — The mean is best, 
 The happy mean, between the two extremes. 
 
 Then secondly for strength or vehemence, 
 Oppos'd to softness ; as in instruments, 
 The medium is undoubtedly preferred : 
 Because we could not carry out a speech 
 To any length, with so much violence ; 
 But Adrian like, most probably break down ; 
 As, from Philostratus, we find he did, 
 On one occasion ; when he work'd himself 
 To such a pitch of speaking, that at last 
 He lost his voice, and in a moment dropp'd 
 To such a perfect whisper in the court. 
 That he was neither heard nor understood ! 
 Think too of that afl&ictive consequence 
 Of Zosimus; young Pliny's freeman's zeal, 
 Who broke a vessel by his violence. 
 And though a tour to Egypt did him good. 
 And partially repair'd the injury; 
 Yet having no more prudence afterwards. 
 He soon relaps'd into the same complaint. 
 With symptoms more alarming than before ! 
 
 A man whose constitution is but weak. 
 Should guard most carefully against this fault ; 
 Or he thereby may bring on instant death : 
 King Attalus at Thebes, in his old age 
 Whilst speaking with this violence, fell down 
 Almost a corpse, and died in consequence 
 A little after he had reach'd his home.
 
 41 
 
 Yet on the other hand, the Orator 
 Ought not to be too mild in what he says ; 
 Or shy in gesture ; but with energy. 
 Though moderation, state his arguments : 
 Because an unimpassioned eloquence. 
 Is little better than our private talk. 
 And raises no more fervour in the heart ! i 
 So, as to slowness, and rapidity, 
 Avoid extremes no less ; and neither be 
 Precipitate, nor Drawling in your mode. 
 Against the former rock, Haterius dash'd ; 
 When driving once at a tremendous rate, 
 Augustus order'd them to put a drag. 
 For fear of danger to the flying wheel ! 
 
 Serapion also err'd on this same point ; 
 Of whom Lucilius wTote to Seneca, 
 That speaking as he did, so fast, and thick. 
 One word upon another ; no one tongue 
 Would be sufficient for his fretted mouth. 
 If he continu'd so precipate. 
 And let his words so far outstrip his thoughts ! 
 
 Now such immod'rate volubility. 
 Is not to be consider'd eloquence. 
 But school-boy haste, to get his lesson done ! 
 Or like the Mountebank, who strives to draw, 
 By talk and rattle, children to his show ! 
 
 Tis anything but real fluency, 
 Aud quite beneath the man of solid sense. 
 And topic of solemnity and weight ; 
 Inelegant, as if a gentleman 
 Should race with foot-boys through the public streets ! 
 
 The Orator should keep a steady eye 
 On all his words and thoughts, and aim in both, 
 (As Tully didj at uniformity ; 
 Which Seneca so much admir'd in him.
 
 42 
 
 A man, iiuleed, may, with the populace, 
 Obtain some credit by this rapid style, 
 As (jlrog'ry Nazianzen has remark'd ; 
 Nothing appearing half so wonderful 
 As this loquacity to vulgar minds ! 
 \Wt this false reputation is confin'd 
 To oral speeches, and in writing, fades ; 
 Where not a shred of learning can be found, 
 To embalm his mem'ry in a future age. 
 
 Thus Tacitus observes, Haterius shone 
 During his life time, for his eloquence : 
 Bi^t if the works Avhich he has left behind, 
 Are any fair criterion of his worth — 
 He has not much pretence to this renown ; 
 More fire than study, fluency than wit, 
 Which was exting\iished with him : whilst the praise 
 Of solid learning, and of other men, 
 Enkindles in posterity the glow 
 Of emulation, and transmits their fame. 
 Long after they are gone to happier worlds 1 
 
 This vice not only very ill becomes 
 The speaker, in a Sermon, or a plea ; 
 But frustrates the design of eloquence. 
 Which should be, to convince the auditors 
 But how can he convince who gives no time. 
 To weigh his reasons, or his arguments ? 
 How can a Judge be able to keep up 
 With one who pleads as he were riding post ? 
 Or can the people catch one inference 
 In twenty, which the breathless preacher hurls 
 Upon their ears, as lightnings 'cross the sky ? 
 The truth and justice of the cause he pleads, 
 Must suffer in his hands, if felt at all ! 
 
 This volubility without a pause. 
 Is no less prejudicial to himself. 
 As well as an injustice to his friends ; 
 Because he gives his auditors no time.
 
 43 
 
 To note his Cadences, and Periods, 
 
 The graces, and the ornaments of Speech ; 
 
 Whilst his poor lungs are grievous sufferers. 
 
 From this intolerable violence ; 
 
 If not to Phtbsis driven, with the loss 
 
 Of life itself, and in a little time ! 
 
 Note on the other hand, the limping style 
 
 Is quite as faulty ; and the orator 
 
 Must take the middle path, to all alike 
 
 Agreeable ; not rapid, nor too slow. 
 
 To weary patience, or outstrip the wind ! 
 
 L- 
 
 Vinicius had this failing, for he spake 
 Asellius says, by tedious intervals. 
 Delays and pauses ; that 'twas wonderful. 
 How he obtain'd the name of Eloquent ; 
 When, as another states, he could not speak 
 Three words consecutively in a breath ! 
 What pleasure can it be to hear a man 
 Drawl out his words, till one is almost made 
 To say, ' Go on, good sir, or hold your tongue,' 
 Fluent the speech should be, but so flow on 
 As the soft gliding stream, not swelling flood. 
 It also was observ'd that we should speak 
 With ev'ry possible variety — 
 Which is quite practicable, though the voice 
 Avoid th' extremes to which we have referr'd ; 
 Because there is sufficient latitude 
 Between the highest and the lowest note, 
 (Six tones at least,) with which to vary it ; 
 So that the Orator has scope enough. 
 Without transgressing either boundary ; 
 Provided, with good taste, he modulate 
 The soft and loud, to a just harmony ; 
 And such pronunciation, as may suit 
 The character of the discourse or plea — 
 Faster or slower, voluble or smart. 
 To raise th' emotion of his auditors !
 
 44 
 
 But let him take this hint along with him ; 
 When he intends upon a turn of speech, 
 To vary in his voice, he must beware 
 Of a too (juick transition in the tone, 
 All in a moment ! And with courtliness. 
 Softness, and moderation, make the change. 
 Because 1 find that some distinguish'd men, 
 Have, like the deafening thunder, all at once 
 Burst on the ear, so as to terrify. 
 And overwhelm the feelings ! such a turn. 
 Offends all rules ; and had we not our eyes. 
 We should exclaim, 'Tis sure another man ! 
 Avoid this error, pray, for decency. 

 
 45 
 
 CHAP. Vll. 
 
 Particular Rules for this Variation of the Voice according 
 to different subjects. 
 
 More is required than for a man to know 
 How to adjust his voice to varied tones, 
 To render it attractive ; nor enough 
 To practise it in general ; but this art, 
 (If any great proficiency is sought,) 
 Must be attain'd by fix'd and certain rules. 
 According to the passions we would raise ; 
 The several parts and figures of our speech ; 
 And the variety of phrase and style. 
 
 Observe then first, the'subjects of Discourse 
 Are either upon morals, good or ill — 
 Adverse, or prosperous events of life — 
 Which topics, (of a diflferent nature quite,) 
 Require no less an alter'd voice and mien. 
 If Ave are speaking upon common things. 
 With an intention merely to convey 
 Some useful knowledge of them ; there's no need, 
 For heat and action here ; a clear, distinct 
 And ordinary voice will serve your end : 
 Because your object is not to excite 
 The will or the affections, but inform 
 The understanding. But if you desire 
 To raise an admiration at the pow'r. 
 And wonders of Creation ? Elevate 
 Your tone to an admiring gravity !
 
 4G 
 
 If moral actions be the argument, 
 
 Deprav'd, or noble, and you would arouse 
 
 A corrcspondinjv feeling in the mind, 
 
 Of commendation, or abliorrency ; 
 
 You must adjust the Voice accordingly ; 
 
 Expressing approbation with a full, 
 
 Majestic accent — Your Dispraise with bold, 
 
 Precipitate, and angry Emphasis. 
 
 So when we speak of the events of life, 
 
 With an intention to congratulate, 
 
 Or sympathise, distinction must be made ; 
 
 The former with a ' brisk ' and ' cheerful ' air. 
 
 The latter in a ' sad ' and ' mournful ' tone ; 
 
 For ' mirth ' with our good fortune best comports ; 
 
 And ' lamentation ' with adversity ; 
 
 The one to joy and praise : the other pray'r 
 
 And tears, our christian sympathy, invites. 
 
 Another thing is worthy of remark, 
 Namely, that all our themes are not alike, 
 Some, for their grandeur, and their beauty, far 
 Exceed the others ; as the firmament. 
 With all its shining orbs, transcends the earth. 
 And insects, or the vegetable tribes ! 
 The former subject therefore will demand 
 A more magnificent and lofty voice. 
 
 The same remark applies to the events, 
 FeHcitous or adverse, of the world. 
 Which are not all of the same character. 
 The moral turpitude, and principle 
 Of evil, in a great or petty crime, 
 With God, is just the same ; but to mankind. 
 The mischief that results is more, or less : 
 And in this point of view, the orator 
 Will limit, or extend the public plaint. 
 
 Thus Murder is a crime of deeper die 
 Than Theft, because the life is more than meat ! 
 The noble exploits of a Conqueror,
 
 47 
 
 Are far more worthy of our eulogy, 
 Than the achievements of a demagogue ! 
 The safety or destruction of a state, 
 Than the advantage of a private man ! 
 
 These topics will require diversity 
 Of treatment by the skilful orator : 
 Absurd, and quite ridiculous, it were 
 To speak of great affairs, affecting all 
 The interests of life in such a tone 
 As if a fly were drown'd ! Or to bewail 
 This trifling incident in tragic strains !
 
 48 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 How to vary the voice according^ to the passions. 
 
 The subjects just now mentioned, being weigh'd 
 And well engraven on the Memory 
 Will, as occasion serves, inspire our souls. 
 With joy, or sorrow, fear, or confidence. 
 Anger, or pity, honour, or disdain. 
 And let us but depict these passions well. 
 By Voice and Gesture, and the audience 
 Will feel a corresponding sympathy ! 
 
 The Orator, must therefore, first digest 
 In his own mind, the Theme of his Address ; 
 And stir up all the passions in himself, 
 Before he can expect to touch the hearts 
 Of others to the Life with what he feels ! 
 The Barrister must muse upon the wrongs 
 His client, in estate, or name, sustains ; 
 Before he can succesfully engage. 
 Or plead with energy in his behalf : 
 The malice and vexation of his foes, 
 Drawn out before his eye, will make his words 
 As goads to Justice, in the list'ning court ; 
 And straight convince them of his honesty, 
 And win the suit -which he so ably pleads ! 
 
 So the Divine ought, first, to frame his thoughts 
 To high conceptions ot God's Majesty : 
 His holy Doctrines, and his dread commands : 
 To cherish in himself the love of truth. 
 Hatred of sin, compassion for the woes
 
 49 
 
 Of human kind, with, chiefly, a concern 
 
 For the salvation of the flock he feeds. 
 
 Let him be fill'd before-hand with these views, 
 
 And he Ayill easily, in speaking, move 
 
 With kindling pity all his audience ; 
 
 Who seeing his emotions in his eye. 
 
 His voice, his hand, will be dissolv'd in tears, 
 
 And readily believe, that what he says j 
 
 Is for their temp'ral, and eternal good. 
 
 Thus as the tuneful lyre repays the touch 
 Of rough, or gentle hand, with soft, or loud. 
 Or quick, or solemn sound ; the human voice 
 Varies its euphony, and strikes the ear 
 According as the passions of the mind 
 Are violent, or gentle, calm, or full; 
 E'en as the sacred orator shall feel, 
 And grace enable him to reach the heart. 
 
 * Love,' by a soft, a gay, a cheerful tone. 
 Because he fain would make the heart rejoice. 
 'Hate,' by a sharp, severe, and sullen one. 
 That all may see it in his countenance. 
 
 ' Joy,' by a brisk, a flowing and full voice. 
 
 That the th/ice welcome glow may spread around. 
 
 * Grief,' by a dull, a languishing, sad moan, 
 A sob, or sigh, will be the best express'd, 
 
 ' Fear,' by a trembling and a falt'ring speech. 
 Inclining to uncertainty and dread. 
 But on the contrary, his ' confidence' 
 Will be at once discovered or conveyed 
 By a sonorous, bold, and steady voice, 
 For no despondence chains his ready tongue. 
 ' Anger,' is sharp, impetuous, violent. 
 As if it gave no time to take your breath. 
 So, in Terence's Adelphi, Geta says, 
 Oh niis'ry ! oh misfortune ! I'm inflamed 
 15eyond all bounds, transported with my ire ! 
 
 E
 
 50 
 
 Out of my senses ! would I might confront 
 Tliot wretch, and all his family, whilst now 
 I thirst for the revenge — I'd hamper them 
 For all the insults they have done to me ! 
 First, for his father, with a quick despatch 
 I'd send him to the shades of Tartarus, 
 For bringing such a son upon the earth ! 
 And then for Syrus, author of my wrongs, 
 Abettor of these mischiefs, how I'd tear 
 Him piecemeal, wretch ! and fling him in the air 
 And dash his brains on the polluted ground! 
 As to vile ^schines, I'd bandage him. 
 And throw him head-long to a wat'ry grave. 
 Or chase him down from the Tarpeian rock! 
 And for the rest — Oh ! but I'd do for them, 
 I'd trample them beneath my stamping feet. 
 As sacrifices to envenom'd wrath ! 
 
 These words must needs be utter'd rapidly. 
 With rage and fury, bord'ring on insane ; 
 As we imagine one in such a case ; 
 And when he says again, on meeting there 
 His mistress in the crisis of his ire — 
 Madam, wer'e all undone ! no remedy — 
 Forsaken now of .Eschines ! His love 
 Is now another's — In the open day — 
 And 'neath the public eye he carries on — 
 The base intrigue, and glories in his shame ! 
 
 Here Sostrata's expresssions intimate 
 That they were spoken out of breath — his rage 
 Cut short his sentences, and chok'd his words. 
 
 But when the Orator designs to melt 
 His audience into pity, let him use 
 A soft, submissive and most plaintive tone : 
 As Cicero concludes for Quintius ; 
 " Good sirs, believe me, Quintius has left
 
 51 
 
 No stone unturn'd, but tried all honest means 
 
 To gain the public ear, but never found 
 
 A Praetor who would give him leave to speak. 
 
 Nor friend of Nevius to express his wrongs ! 
 
 Repeatedly, upon his very knees, 
 
 By all that's sacred, he has begg'd of them, 
 
 Either to do him justice, and proceed 
 
 Against him in the public Courts of Law ; 
 
 Or at the least preserve inviolate 
 
 His honour, if they mulct his whole estate ! 
 
 Oh ! TV'ith what resolution has he borne 
 
 1 he angry looks of his malignant foes. 
 
 Kissing the hand that dealt the cruel blow ! 
 
 He has endeavour'd. Sirs, to mollify 
 
 And win upon his heart, adjuring him 
 
 First by a Brother's ashes, then the name 
 
 So dear to all, of Father, and the tears 
 
 Of his poor Wife and Children, and the claims 
 
 Of amity, of kindred, and of age ; 
 
 If he had no regard to his affairs ! 
 
 If Quiiitius could not make his heart relent, 
 
 Yet, as a man, he had undoubted claims 
 
 To his humanity, insisting too 
 
 On nothing else, but justice to his name, 
 
 Relinquishing, in fact, to courtesy 
 
 His every thing but honour — Could he more ? 
 
 Turn'd by his cruel kinsman out of doors. 
 
 Rejected by his friends, whom he besought 
 
 \\ ith tears, to pity him — brow beaten too 
 
 E'en by his judges, as the last resource 
 
 He asks, Aquilius, your kind services. 
 
 And throws himself upon your clemency, 
 
 His honour, his estate, his life, his all. 
 
 You are the umpire of his Innocence, 
 
 The arbitrator of his destiny ; 
 
 On you hangs all his safety and his hope. 
 
 After so many trials, obloquy, 
 
 And scandal, he appeals to your kind heart, 
 
 Aquilius, for decision ! View him not 
 
 E2
 
 52 
 
 Asa delinquent, but an injur'd man ; 
 And grant him all the pity he deserves, 
 For 'tis indeed a moving spectacle ! 
 Reduc'd to poverty, antl overwhelm'd 
 \V itli nndeserv'd reproach and calumny — 
 F.jected from his heritage and leit 
 AVithout provision for himself and child, 
 His maiden ilaughter ! Oh ! it is a case 
 Should melt the hearts of all ! He only begs, 
 By your authority, to go in peace ; 
 With name untarnish'd, as he came to us. 
 To weep his troubles o'er in distant lands ; 
 Alter a life of three score years, esteem'd 
 By all the good and virtuous ! not a stain 
 In his escutcheon ! Thus he will be spared 
 A world of grief — the insults of his foes, 
 Of Nevius chief — and carry to the grave, 
 The well earned honours of a lengthened age. 
 And live, as he deserves, in all our hearts. 
 As well as in the tablet of renown ! " 
 
 Here, it is obvious, that th' orator 
 Pronounc'd his words with a submissive voice. 
 And great humility, to win upon 
 The kindest feelings of the judge's heart ; 
 With whom the honour, life, estate, and all 
 The hopes of his friend Quintius repos'd : 
 And yet he doubtless spake with energy. 
 But temper'd with great tenderness and care. 
 And deep commiseration of his wrongs, 
 T' excite a correspondin,^ sympathy 
 Throughout the court, which could not but be mov'd. 
 If there was ought of man within their breasts 
 
 To the same purpose Cicero remark'd 
 The general burst of pity in a play, 
 At seeing on the stage a youth's remains 
 Neglected, uninterr'd, beyond the time 
 When funeral rites are usually perform'd.
 
 53 
 
 Which seem'd to upbraid the sleeping parent thus — 
 '■ Mother, awake ! thy careless rest defer ; 
 Think on thy son, and his poor bones inter : 
 Before wild birds and beasts, for prey that roar, 
 My scatter'd limbs and mangled corpse devour ! " 
 
 To do this well, the Orator must note 
 The various modes of softening the voice, 
 The quality of ev'ry word he speaks, 
 And character of things in his address ; 
 All which is easier learnt from off the lip, 
 Than by the nicest precepts we can give. 
 
 But to proceed, suppose he wish to paint 
 The character of some brave warrior. 
 And testify his own esteem of him ; 
 Why, he must do it with a lofty tone, 
 And voice as noble as his subject's high ; 
 As Tully spake for the Manilian law. — 
 " Now there is none in all the world but he, 
 Pompey, I mean, who by his noble acts, 
 Immortal deeds, eclipses every name 
 Yet living, and the records of the dead ! 
 \\ by hesitate a moment what to do ; 
 Or the commission of our hopes delay? 
 Me has, in my opinion, all the gifts 
 Of nnlitary greatness — discipline. 
 Fame, valour, fortune — Who was ever yet 
 As skilful in the art of making war 
 And where so fit a general as he 
 'i'hat left his play and pastime at the school. 
 And sallied forth, with youthful ardour fir'd. 
 Against Rome's proudest enemies, to learn 
 The feats of war within his father's camp? 
 One of the noblest chieftains of his age ! ! 
 Pompey was born for arms, and could command 
 Whole fields of soldiers from his infancy ! 
 Ha^ fought more battles than most men have read ; 
 Conquer'd more provinces than heart could wish ;
 
 54 
 
 Attain' J the highest military rank 
 By his own conduct in the ensanguin'd plain — 
 And not through influential friends at home ; 
 15y triumphs, not misfortunes — Victory, 
 His Patron, rather than Experience, 
 Or time, or service ! Pompey has not serv'd 
 As many years as he has made Campaignes ! ! 
 Tell me, in short, what dangers Avere too great 
 For his encounter, when the Commonwealth 
 Breath'd hut a wish to have him take the field? 
 In Africa, heyond the Alps, in Spain ; 
 Against strong towns, and kingdoms, civil wars. 
 In feuds Avith slaves, in servile and sea fights : 
 All, in succession, have engag'd his arm ! 
 Now let me ask, what are these battles wag'd. 
 These wars begun, concluded by the sword 
 Of Pompey, but so many tests of skill. 
 Of wisdom, and of virtue ? What are all 
 These enterprises, vict'ries he has won 
 But heralds of his glory, and his fame ? 
 What are his heaps of slain, but as it were 
 So many pyramids to speak his praise ? " 
 
 These sentiments if utter'd with a low. 
 And feeble voice, lose all their energy ; 
 And bring dishonour on the eloquence 
 Of Tully, and a slur on Pompey 's name ! 
 But on the other hand, if spoken well 
 W^ith accent, tone, and gesture, they convey 
 Correct ideas of each character, 
 And raise the same emotions in our minds. 
 As in the audience Avhich heard them first; 
 Though near two thousand years have interven'd ! 
 
 Instead of admiration or esteem. 
 The Orator, if he would shew Contempt — 
 Must do it with a scornful tone of voice. 
 But without a passion, or a vehemence ; 
 See an example of it in the Plea 
 Of Cicero against Ccecilius.
 
 55 
 
 "Pray let us see, good sir, your splendid gifts, 
 
 The comprehensive mind, of which you boast ; 
 
 When, and on what occasion, hath this Court 
 
 Rung with its acclamations and applause ? 
 
 Nay, when did you attempt the Barrister, 
 
 But to expose your imbecility. 
 
 And run your baseless reputation down ? 
 
 \\ eigh well the difficulties of the state; 
 
 Nor undertake the maintenance of peace, 
 
 Its name and honour — the unravelling 
 
 The motive of a man from first to last ; 
 
 Not only by assisting to expose 
 
 His arts before the Judges, but the world ! 
 
 The safety and the welfare of allies. 
 
 The interest of provinces, the weight 
 
 Of Laws, and the authority of Courts ! 
 
 Believe me, sir, you ought to feel rejoic'd 
 
 At such an opportunity as this. 
 
 Of learning from your betters how to Plead ! 
 
 For you have yet a thousand things to learn 
 
 Before you venture upon such a course. 
 
 Reflect upon your incapacity. 
 
 Weigh well the matter, ponder what you are. 
 
 And what you can, and what you cannot do ! 
 
 Say, are you able to clear off the wrongs 
 
 From our Confed'rates and the Commonwealth? 
 
 Protect the peoples' rights, the Roman name 
 
 The judgments and decrees of Senators ? 
 
 Ah, sir, such topics are above your reach ; 
 
 You lack the nerve, the voice, the memory. 
 
 The wit, and learning for such business ! 
 
 Pray, be advised, and never think of it, 
 
 But be content to steal some olden plea, 
 
 Nor beat your empty brains in fruitless toil ; 
 
 And torture it until it seem your own. 
 
 By learning it by heart, — perhaps you then 
 
 By courtesy, may hobble to the bar ; 
 
 And, if no one of the same faculty 
 
 Appear against you, to confuse your mind, 
 
 May blunder through an undisputed suit !
 
 56 
 
 Surely you would not venture to confront 
 Hortensius, the most learnM of orators, 
 The most sagacious of our disputants ! 
 Why you must needs be eloquence itself, 
 Or else be driven from your arguments, 
 Bewildered in your reason, and abash'd 
 As never poor unhappy man before ! 
 CoDcilius 'gainst Mortensius! most insane ! 
 Methinks I witness your confusion, sir, 
 How all your little sense beclouded flies 
 Like mists before the sun, confus'd andpos'd 
 At ev'ry turn, and point at which you touch ! 
 Alas ! the sad mistakes you're sure to make ; 
 In what a tumult, and ferment, your mind : 
 In what disorder, shame, and ridicule ! 
 Besides all which, remember you are not 
 The most accomplish'd gentleman in Rome ! " 
 
 Here there is much of slight and a contempt 
 At the pretensions of Ccecilius, 
 Who wish'd to take the brief from Cicero; 
 The object of the speech to run him down ; 
 And prove his utter inability. 
 For such a task as that which he desired. 
 But if he had evinc'd a great concern, 
 Or pleaded with an over anxious tone ; 
 Or seem'd to fear his rival, he had fail'd 
 To influence the Judges on his side. 
 In words he would have shewn his great contempt. 
 But by his manner, that he fear'd him too ; 
 And therefore^ thought it call'd forth all his ire. 
 And artifice, to set his claims aside. 
 A prudent orator must carefully 
 Avoid this error, when he would degrade, 
 Expose, or baffle an antagonist; 
 Nor in replying to weak arguments 
 Use heat, or violence, or nmch of wit; 
 Which were to wield the club of Hercules 
 To crush the worm that crawls beneath his feet, 
 And make his puny adversary brave !
 
 57 
 
 But if a speaker shoiild allege a deed 
 
 Of barbarous injustice by his foe, 
 
 Analagous to that of Midias 
 
 Againrst Demosthenes, at Saturn's feast — 
 
 Another, and an elevated voice, 
 
 Will best express his grievance and distress : 
 
 Proportioning his passion to his wrongs. 
 
 For certainly he could not otherwise 
 
 Do justice to himself, or move the court 
 
 To sympathize and grant him damages; 
 
 For what would not appear to give him pain, 
 
 If all unmov'd he furnish'd the details ! 
 
 This was the reason why Demosthenes 
 Reprov'd a client under an assault ; 
 Who came for his advice, but stated it 
 With so much calmness, unconcern, and ease, 
 That he quite doubted its reality ; 
 And said, ' Why, sir, this cannot he all true, 
 Your manner indicates the contrary.' 
 But when another told him the same thin£r, 
 With indignation glowing in his eyes. 
 And with impassioned language — he exclaim'd, 
 '' Well, I believe you, for your very tone 
 Denotes the truth of it." The Orator 
 May hence perceive when fire and fury serve 
 To gain the Suit, hy being 'natural.' 
 
 Thus Cicero against Callidius 
 Adopts this very line of argument 
 In his defence of Gallus, where he says, 
 " If what you state, Callidius, were fact. 
 Would you he mov'd no more than you appear ? 
 Where is your Avonted indignation. Sir, 
 With which you have related other wrongs, 
 And argu'd other suits ? Wliere is the grief 
 The fervour and aflliction of your soul. 
 Which has distress'd and melted us to tears, 
 Till children e'en, have wrung their little hands ?
 
 58 
 
 Further, for this inflection of the voice 
 Upon the Passions, it is clear as noon, 
 That when the speaker will relax the tone 
 Of his displeasure, he must drop at once 
 Almost into a whisper, for effect, 
 As Tully is an instance, where he says 
 In his judicious plea for Cehus — 
 '* But 1 must now return to the offence, 
 Althoupfh, in speaking of so great a man, 
 Chief ahnost stifles uit'rance, and debars 
 That exercise of thought which I could wish !" 
 
 The readiest way, by which you may attain 
 All the variety of voice, is this, — 
 Study the Passions, read the Tragedies, 
 And Comedies of Shakespear; or the Plays, 
 Or classic Dialogues of Greece or Rome ; 
 And that ' aloud,' in ordei to adjust 
 The voice to each successive character, 
 And in a little time, you must excel.
 
 59 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Of varying tbe Toice according^ to the different parts 
 of a Discourse. 
 
 The sev'ral parts of one Discourse require 
 A change of voice to give it due eilbct. 
 According to the character of each. 
 Th' Opening or Exordium nm&t he 'mild/ 
 In rather a subdii'd and humble style. 
 As deferential to tho audience, 
 And wisest for the Orator himself, 
 Who should not, all at once, put forth his pow'r, 
 But by degrees attain his altitude ; 
 Or he will be exhausted ere he come 
 To the important part of liis address. 
 Where weight and cnipluisiis will be requir'd; 
 And yet too low a voice were quite as bad; 
 Let him speak up, then, so distinct and clear, 
 That all within the church may understand. 
 
 A certain Minister, some time ago, 
 Had this egregious fault. — Began, at first. 
 So low, that none, at all remote, could hear' 
 And, in a little while, up went his voice 
 Full bolt against the ceilmg, driving all 
 His much offended people to the door. 
 Like pealing thunder through the vaulted sky ! 
 W hereas the Exordium should be courteous. 
 Soft, graceful, easy, in a gentler tone, 
 Than all the other parts of the Discourse.
 
 GO 
 
 Not but this rule admits, as others do, 
 Of an exception in some instances, 
 AN' hen the Pri^anible may be term'd abrupt, 
 Or unexpootod ; as witli Cicero, 
 In his Oration against Catahne: 
 
 " Pray how much longer will you, Cataline, 
 Insult our patience ? — Madly thus impose 
 Your fiilsehoods, and abuses on the Court ? 
 Where will your fiery temper hurry you ?" 
 
 So in the speech of St. John Chrysostom, 
 (As Socrates relates,) against the Queen 
 Eudoxia, who had him once deprived, 
 And banish'd from the Empire ; and again 
 Was plotting for his ruin, in her rage 
 Against a Sermon, chiefly aim'd at her. 
 Th' occasion was a kind of public ball, 
 Or dance, she gave in honour of her god, 
 Before the temi)le, on the very day 
 That St. Sophia's statue was set up : 
 His words were these, — " Herodias is incens'd 
 Once more at John the Baptist I see her dance, 
 And in a charger long to have his head ! " 
 
 The same exception in his homily. 
 At Autioch, appears, when they destroyed 
 The statues of the Queen and Emperor. — 
 " What shall I say ? how speak at such a time. 
 When tears, not words, are fittest vehicles 
 Of our distress ! No season this to preach. 
 But to lament and pray ! " So afterwards. 
 Upon a panic on the Christian's minds. 
 For want of heathen government support 
 In their religious meetings, he begins — 
 " Truly, I cannot but commend the care 
 And conduct of the goverr>or, who saw 
 The city in a tumult and dismay.
 
 I 
 
 61 
 
 And hither came, to cheer your spirits up 
 
 By his authority and give you hope : 
 
 But for yourselves, I blush with deepest shame ; 
 
 After the many sermons you have heard 
 
 To teach you better things — That, you should need 
 
 To be inspir'd with courage, by a man 
 
 Without the Church, a Pagan'l Oh ! I'm shock'd 
 
 And could have wish'd the earth had open'dwide- 
 
 Her mouth, and in a moment swallowed me ; 
 
 Ere I had heard a heathen comfort you, 
 
 And chide your distrust of the sacred cause ! 
 
 Oh ! what a stain upon the Christian Church, 
 
 When infidels have need to teach it faith ! 
 
 Oh ! with what face shall we endure their gaze. 
 
 How venture to reprove them for their sins. 
 
 Or give them consolation in distress, 
 
 Thus crippled as we are by cowardice. 
 
 More fearful than the timid hare herself ? " 
 
 " Why we are men, fyou say,) aye, men indeed ! 
 But without ought of man except the name ! 
 Or would the rustling of a leaf, destroy 
 Your self-possession, and excite alarm, 
 As if you had no heart, like senseless things 
 Which start at every gentle foot they hear ! !" 
 
 Exordia like these, require a burst 
 Of indignation, but are very rare. 
 And never us'd, except emergencies 
 Occur, that call for more than wonted zeal. 
 
 In the next place, the speaker should observe 
 That no great vehemence, or energy 
 Is needful in the proposition of a suit ; 
 His object being simply to narrate 
 The circumstances or particulars, 
 With conspicuity before the court. 
 In doing which, if his delivery 
 Be one degree, or so, above the tone 
 Of th' exordium, 'twill be enough. 
 Only (because the basement of the whole,
 
 62 
 
 Whence all his inferences must be draAvn,) 
 It cannot bo too clear, distinct, and plain ; 
 As when the architect intends to raise 
 A noble structure, all his diligence, 
 Mis skill and his contrivance are absorb'd 
 In laying the loundation stone aright. 
 
 There will be some variety of voice. 
 And gesture in this part of a discourse, 
 Or plea, according as the characters may change 
 In the events and actions he narrates ; 
 But this is not the place for all his warmth, 
 And passion, which he carefully reserves 
 To bear upon the centre of the foe, 
 When in the confirmation of his speech. 
 
 Here, he sets forth his ablest arguments ; 
 Confutes, repels his adversary's plea. 
 And brings his heavy cannon to the field; 
 His voice extended to the utmost pitch, 
 His hands uplifted and his eyes on fire! 
 Whatever skill he has in Hhetorick, 
 Its figures, and its beauties, now's the time 
 For his resources, this the happy hour. 
 For all the talent of the Orator ! ! 
 
 Before the Peroration, he must pause 
 A moment, and begin it with a Voice 
 And Action quite distinct from the above ; 
 Mild in his accents in comparison — 
 Then suddenly assume a confidence, 
 A tone and manner of great sprightliness, 
 With triumph in his brow, as well assured 
 Both that his cause is just, and that the hearts 
 Of all his auditors accord with him ; 
 And draw to a conclusion, like a ship, 
 Long toss'd at sea, with adverse dang'rous winds, 
 Mid Scylla and Charybdis, but at length, 
 Come joyful in, full sail, all hands on deck. 
 Whose deafning acclamations shake the strand.
 
 63 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 How to vary the Voice according to the Figures of Rhetorick. 
 
 Figures occurrins: ever and anon 
 Throughout a speech, impart variety, 
 And hght and beauty to the argument, 
 So they be spoken difTrent from the plain, 
 Unfi^^ur'd portion of the said discourse. 
 
 First for an Exclamation. Here the term 
 Explains its nature; nothing can appear 
 So flat and ludicrous as for a man 
 To use this figure with no other voice 
 Than usual ; instead of raising it 
 To an impassioned tone, as Cicero 
 In his oration for Cluentus did. 
 When he adverted to vile Sassia, 
 Who had inveigled her own son-in-law. 
 Got him divorc'd and married him herself! 
 " O the vile wretch, (said he) what wickedness 
 A crime unheard of yet, in all the world. 
 Abominable woman ! hateful lust ! 
 Ungovernable passion ! impudence 
 Unparalell'd ! lasciviousness extreme 
 Neither to stand in awe of God or man ! 
 Did she relent, or tremble, ere the night 
 Approach'd, and Hymen's flick'ring torch 
 Led on her guilty footsteps to his door ? 
 Or did her daughter's injur'd bed, or walls 
 Of her apartment, drive her from the deed ! !
 
 G4 
 
 To speak these words in ordinary style, 
 Without an elevation of the voice 
 Were to deprive them of their elegance, 
 And force — and hetter 'twere to say, 
 In simple language, she was base and vile, 
 To think of marrying her son-in-law. 
 Because, in this plain statement, figureless. 
 No passion is required, whilst the above 
 Demands both grace and emphasis, to please. 
 
 This mode of speaking, is the same in forms 
 Of Invocal ion ; and especially 
 When something more than common is the cause ; 
 As when Demosthenes, so much admir'd 
 In this particular, for Ctesiphon 
 Exclaims aloud, " You have not fail'd herein 
 No, Gentlemen, by all our a,ncestors 
 Who fought and conquered at proud Marathon ! 
 By those who at Platoea Avon the day ! 
 At Salamis by sea ! By those enshrin'd 
 At Artemissium ! the gallant men, 
 Whose glory, honour, and immortal names, 
 On more than weeping marble are engrav'd. 
 By ev'ry noble warrior 1 plead ! " 
 
 No doubt he spake these words with vehemence, 
 Extended arm, and most courageous tone. 
 That corresponding ardour might be felt ! 
 
 But in the figure Prosopoeia, 
 (Which is the feigning of another man,) 
 We learn from nature, first to change the voice. 
 That so another may appear to speak. 
 Though in reality, it is not so. 
 And secondly, a due variety ; 
 According as the person or the thing,
 
 65 
 
 Thus introduced behind the scenes requires. 
 We have two instances in Cicero, 
 Which serve us for a model, in his speech 
 For Celius ; where a venerable man. 
 Old Appius ; and the wretched debauchee, 
 Degraded Clodius, take several parts ; 
 And half an eye sees with what difference 
 He needs must represent these characters : 
 In one, his manner solemn, as becomes 
 The gravity of age I The other loose, 
 Effeminate and thoughtless in th' extreme '. 
 Requiring voice and action similar. 
 
 If it should be our wish to represent 
 A person in soliloquy, apart, 
 As reasoning a question with himself 
 The tone must almost to a whisper drop, 
 As not intending to be overheard. 
 Take the oration for Cluentius 
 Against Stalenus, who was fond of bribes. — 
 
 Perfidious Senator, a purse of gold 
 Put him upon the rack with all his brains 
 For ways and means by which he might pervert 
 And wrest just judgment, talking with himself 
 
 " If I should let the other judges know 
 And take their share of this delicious bait. 
 What were my gain, but hazard and disgrace. 
 Stop — let me think ! some plan must be devis'd, 
 Oppianicus must be charg'd w'ith it. 
 Conscience avaunt ! and let me shut my eyes ! 
 Yes ! and what then ? I hope I shall succeed ! 
 
 So versus Noevms, in the same style, 
 For persecuted Quintius he cries — 
 
 " You have not ask'd of conscience or of fame 
 What they will think, nor conn'd the matter o'er ; 
 Now do it pray you sir, but let none hear ! 
 
 F
 
 GO 
 
 " What am I doing, that for two short hours, 
 Now past ai\(l gone, I seek to ruin him, 
 Shall he, tor failing an appointment die ! " 
 
 The Orator must carefully observe 
 To speak the words, " You have not ask'd yourself 
 Of conscience, or of fame, what they will think !" 
 In such a tone as an Apostrophe 
 Or sudden change in the discourse demands, 
 Whilst the soliloquy that follows it, 
 Must almost in a whisper be pronounc'd. 
 
 In an Apostrophe, 'tis requisite 
 To ponder well the character to which 
 He makes appeal, and wherefore it is done, 
 In order to adopt the proper style. 
 
 Thus if it be to things inanimate 
 He must exert his voice, as when we speak 
 To people who are deaf, as Cicero 
 Undoubtedly would do in that fine speech 
 For Milo, where he says, " Ye little hills 
 Bear witness ! and ye shady Alban groves. 
 With all your altars, and your sacred rites, 
 Made venerable by antiquity, 
 As those of Rome, which Clodius with hand 
 Of horrid sacrilege, and thirst for gold 
 Has levell'd to the ground, and on your site 
 Erected his own gorgeous palaces !" 
 
 The same remark holds good if he address 
 The sacred Deity ; for as we raise, 
 Above the common pitch, our voice to reach 
 A person at a distance, or the ear 
 Of an extensive meeting; even so. 
 When we address the great Divinity, 
 Who sits upon his throne above the skies, 
 We ought to do it with a lofty tone, 
 As speaking not to beings like ourselves,
 
 On the same globe, poor mortals, but to God ! 
 Yet not as if we thought that we were heard 
 For our loud speaking, but for Majesty ! 
 
 This elevated accent is requir'd 
 Upon a Dialogue or Conference, 
 Where two are represented in discourse, 
 Opponent and Respondent : Change your voice 
 Alternately, as in a real case. 
 Tully has an example of this style. 
 In the defence he made for Flancius ; 
 Where Laterensis first is introduc'd 
 Making complaint because the Edileship 
 Was voted otherwise than he could wish ! 
 Then comes in Flancius to defend himself 
 And justify the choice. They thus proceed, 
 
 " The people, Flancius, have not judg'd aright." 
 
 " Yes, Laterensis, but I say they have." 
 
 " No, Flancius, they have not acted well." 
 
 " But, Laterensis, being done, 'tis done." 
 
 " I cannot, Flancius, bear the thought of it." 
 
 " But, Laterensis, many better men. 
 
 Wiser, and more illustrious than thou. 
 
 Have borne as much, or more ; so be content !" 
 
 Another specimen of this we have 
 When in his Flea for Flaccus he proceeds 
 To cross-examine Asclepiades. Let now 
 Sextilius tell us what he has to say. 
 
 " I have not brought him with me into court." 
 " Produce his Fapers then that we may see." 
 " They are not with me either," he rejoins. 
 " Where are his brothers, to examine them?" 
 " They have not been subpcen'd for witnesses." 
 
 F 2
 
 G8 
 
 Why then, proceeds the Orator, should we 
 Take that for the conviction of a crime 
 Which stands alone with Asclepiades ? 
 A man of character, most infamous ! 
 Shall he, forsooth, affix what stain he please 
 Upon the innocent, and think that Rome, 
 Or Roman ISenates will approve the deed? 
 
 Observe, in all these Dialogues, the change 
 Of tone and voice, as if another spake ! 
 
 The Greek Epimone, which we may term 
 Insistance ; when the advocate would run. 
 His adversary to a strait, and urge 
 An argument upon him, till asham'd, 
 And lost as in a labyrinth ; requires 
 A brisk, a pressing, and insulting tone. 
 See the oration for Ligarius, 
 Where Tully poses the poor Tubero. 
 
 " Where was your valour at Pharsalia ? 
 With whom did you encounter hand to hand ? 
 What was the temper of the steel you drew ? 
 The terror of your warlike countenance ? 
 W' hat meant those flashing eyes, that mighty rage. 
 That conq'ring sword, empurpl'd to the hilt? 
 But I refrain — and spare his feelings ! -See, 
 He blushes in confusion whilst I speak ! 
 
 Another model of th' Epimone 
 We find in Crassus in his plea against 
 Licentious Brutus, who, with a parade 
 Of hypocritical regret, it seems, 
 Was at that moment going to the grave, 
 With his poor mothers, widow'd Junia's bones 1 
 Whom thus he took occasion to accost. 
 
 " W^hat do you there, vile Brutus ? Will the dead 
 Have ought to carry of intelligence. 
 To that bright world whereto she now is gone, 
 Of credit to yourself, or sainted sire?
 
 69 
 
 What can she say to your illustrious race 
 Of ancestors, except to your reproach ? 
 What say, especially, to Lucius, 
 The guardian of the commonwealth, the foe 
 Of Tyranny, no less than friend of Rome ? 
 What honours in the literary world. 
 Or field of battle, or in virtue's cause ? 
 Perhaps you have impiov'd their vast estates ? 
 No ! that were foreign to your character I 
 And far beneath your dignity ! But stop — 
 Have you a foot of land unmortgaged yet ? 
 No ; 'tis all wasted in debauchery. 
 Extravagance and vice ! Perhaps the law 
 Is your pursuit ? which were to imitate 
 Your father's wisdom, and deserve his praise ! 
 But, or Pm much mistaken, she will tell 
 That e'en the chair in which he us'd to sit 
 Was sold ; oh shame ! with every thing he had ! 
 And as to arms, you never saw a field. 
 Except on paper, and that struck you pale ! 
 Perhaps 'tis Rhetorick which you admire 
 Alas ! you know not its first rudiments ! 
 If you can speak at all, 'tis in the praise 
 Of vice, of slander, of licentious scenes. 
 Like those in which your useless life is spent ! 
 Degraded creature ! dare you walk abroad 
 Or shew your face to any honest man ? 
 Is not your conscience, hardened as it is, 
 Fill'd with remorse, to follow to that grave. 
 And gaze upon the weeping statues there ? " 
 
 This mode of speech, that famous Orator 
 Employ'd with inconceivable success ; 
 And with a grave and paralyzing look. 
 As Cicero, who witness'd it, declares. 
 
 The figure that denotes the boldest style 
 Or liberty to say whate'er we like, 
 Is caird Parrhesia. Here the loudest voice 
 Consistent with its government is us'd. 
 As in that passage for Ligarius —
 
 70 
 
 " O admirable clemency, the praise 
 The honour and the memory of which 
 Shall never perish ! Cicero avows 
 Before Augustus, with full confidence 
 That he alone, is guilty of the fault. 
 For which no other man shall be arraign'd 
 Nor does he fear his judge's private ear ! 
 See how undaunted is my confidence 
 In your esteem, your wisdom and your grace. 
 Which beam upon me even whilst I speak ! 
 I'll raise my voice above its utmost pitch, 
 That Rome, through all her avenues may hear ! 
 The war begun and almost ended, sir, 
 I hasten'd over to the hostile camp, 
 To give the final blow, all unimpell'd 
 Save by the zeal and ardour of this breast ! ! " 
 
 The orator must speak as frank and full 
 Though in a smaller place, so be, that all 
 He says, for truth, might come before the world. 
 As in the speech of a learn'd counsellor, 
 In the French Parliament, some time ago — 
 
 " This Chamber either will deliver France 
 From upstart monsters ready to devour ! 
 Or else, if all their cunning policies. 
 Their tricks of slight, and artifice proceed ; 
 And their insidious reports be spread ; 
 (I say it quite aloud) however they, 
 Most sad ! have found a way to close the gates ! 
 My voice shall, notwithstanding, reach the ear 
 Of all within the kingdom ! and appeal 
 To future ages more unprejudic'd. 
 And unafraid of any living soul, 
 To say who are the truest citizens, 
 And friends of liberty, ourselves or they ? 
 I tell this House, and would that all the land 
 Might hear it too, these wretches will effect 
 More mischief, than most fearful heart forbodes
 
 . ri_ 
 
 The Climax or Gradation will repay f 
 
 Our utmost study. Here the speech ascends ^ 
 
 As by a ladder to the period. 
 And hence the voice must obviously rise 
 In an exact proportion to each clause ; 
 Till step by step, it reach its utmost height. 
 As against Verres, Cicero inveighs — 
 
 " To floor and chain a citizen of Rome 
 Were bold indeed ! To scourge him, a dread crime ! 
 To punish him with death were parricide ! 
 What shall I say then of the cross itself? 
 Whereon the vilest slaves are doomed to die ! 
 T'inflict this torture were to raise the ire 
 Of Rome en masse, t'avenge the horrid deed ! " 
 
 Similar to this was an address 
 In our metropolis, upon the death 
 Of our third Henry. 
 
 " Thou couldst not endure 
 So excellent a King ! Endure him ! nay — 
 Far worse than so, you drove him from his town. 
 His palace, bed! What, banish'dhim? far worse 
 Pursu'd him ! yes, pursu'd him to his grave ! 
 And as if murder were a little thing, 
 You canoniz'd th' assassin for his pains ! 
 And that all Paris might be witnesses, 
 Made bonfires and rejoicings at the deed ! ! " 
 
 The Aposiopesis is a Grace, 
 The figure of Restraint; as when we leave 
 Unsaid what we were going to advance. 
 The Orator must introduce this turn. 
 With a more elevated voice ; then drop 
 A tone or two ; as in Demosthenes 
 • For Ctetiphon — " I might myself allege — 
 Ijut hold ! let nothing so severe escape 
 My lips at the beginning ; though his aim 
 Be, to accuse me of a want of thought. 
 Inconstancy, and hastiness of speech ! "
 
 7 -J 
 
 In a Subjection or a Consequence 
 Of questions, with their answers — we must put 
 The former in one voice, and the reply 
 In quite another; either high or low ; 
 Or vice versa, as the Orator 
 ]\Iay deem expedient. See in Cicero 
 For Flaccus, a fine specimen of this. 
 
 " Say what alternative, resource besides, 
 Or other aid, but yours can I implore? 
 Where is there influence in all the world, 
 If not in this assembly ? Shall I ask 
 The Senator's assistance ? They crave your's)! 
 And know that you alone have power to give 
 To ratify or to repeal their own ! 
 Shall I address the Roman Knights ? You know 
 Their sentiments, and are, in fact, their head ! 
 Shall I consult the Commons ? They have given 
 The absolute control into your hands ! 
 
 The same occurs in his apology 
 For Sylla — " When the plot grew high, and all 
 Was in a state of readiness, (he asks) 
 Where then was Sylla, was he by in Rome > 
 Nay, but a way great off ! Was he in arms, 
 Or with the forces Catiline had rais'd ? 
 No, farther yet remov'd ! Was he a field 
 In Gaul, Camertium, or Picenum ? No ! 
 Where then, I pray, did his foul treason lurk ? 
 What regions and what people did he taint ? 
 None ! false the charge ! he was in Italy, 
 At Naples, for its loyalty renown'd ! 
 
 But if the figure be Antithesis, 
 The speaker then must mark the Contraries 
 With voice distinct, observing that the last 
 Must be the loudest, as in bold relief. 
 Thus in the war with Catiline, he says 
 
 
 "T-
 
 73 
 
 " We need but to compare both parties. Sir, 
 And weigh with justice and with equity 
 The one against the other, to discern 
 The insignificance of all our foes ; 
 And with what ease our arms may put them down. 
 For on our side is modesty ! On theirs — 
 Boldness and impudence ! Our conduct pure ? 
 Their' s stain'd with vice ! Fidelity with us ! 
 \^'ith them, see fraud and treachery combin'd ! 
 Here piety ! There wickedness ! True valour our's 
 Their's but foolhardiness ! Here honour's palm, 
 And virtue's recompense alone are sought ! 
 There infamy, incontinence, and lust, 
 Are the sure fruits of this their mad campaign ! 
 In fine, on our side, justice, temperance, 
 Prudence and magnanimity preside, 
 With all the virtues in the closest league, 
 Array'd against injustice, luxury, 
 Temerity and cowardice extreme. 
 And all the shocking vices of mankind !" 
 
 " Our freedom, as it were, involves our arms 
 In needful war ; and reason and good sense, 
 Dispute with madness in proud folly's field ! 
 'Tis certain hope against a fell despair ! 
 Assur'd success against uncertainty ! 
 And if the hearts of men should fail them now, 
 In such a hallow'd cause ; approving heav'n 
 Would take it up and vindicate our arms. 
 Against the horrid crimes and perfidy 
 Of this conspirator, and give the field 
 To your heroic virtues and to Rome ! ! " 
 
 Anadiplosis is a figure known 
 By the reduplication of the terms. 
 
 " It was, it was, a virtue formerly, 
 The Senate well know this, the Consul too ! 
 Yet Catiline still lives, not only lives, 
 But comes into the Senate ! Yes he lives 
 And lives, not to abandon, but confirm
 
 His high pretensions and effrontery ? 
 Aheady three and twenty years he reigns, 
 And still reigns on with growing insolence. 
 As if he felt he had a right to reign. ! " 
 
 Observe to give the words repeated here, 
 A diff"'rent sound whenever they return. 
 
 In an Anaphora, where one word stands 
 At the beginning of the sentences 
 Successively arranged ; or in each clause 
 Within one sentence ; let the orator 
 Pronounce the word repeated in one tone, 
 But with a manner different from the rest, 
 To give the figure its due emphasis, 
 And full effect upon the audience. 
 Thus in the plea for the Manilian law — 
 
 " A Witness of it see in Italy, 
 Which as the conqueror himself confess'd, 
 Owed its deliverance to Pompey's skill. 
 And Pompey's mind ! A Witness, Sicily ! 
 Which he has rescu'd now a thousand times, 
 From dangers which begirt it on all sides 
 Without a sacrifice of human blood, 
 By his advice ! A Witness Africa, 
 Oppress'd with numerous armies in the field, 
 O'erwhelmed and slain by him ! A Witness France ! 
 Again in his Philippics, where he says — 
 
 " My Consulship does not please Antony ! 
 But here is consolation, it has pleas'd 
 All honest men ! It pleas'd Servilius, 
 Whom I must mention first as senior 
 To all the Consuls, and the last that died ! 
 It pleas'd Luctatius Catulus, "whose name 
 Is held in honour by the commonwealth ! 
 It pleas'd the two LucuUi ; and it pleas'd
 
 75 
 
 MuroBna, Crassus, and Hortensius, 
 
 All Consuls in their time, Avith many more 
 
 Held in the highest possible esteem ! " 
 
 So in an Epizeuxis where the word 
 Repeated, stands the last within the clause. 
 The orator must speak in the same tone, 
 ]3ut give it as much humour as he can. 
 Thus in the same Phillipic — "You lament 
 That three whole regions should to ruin fall, 
 And who hath ruin'd them but Antony ? 
 You justly would resent the cruel death 
 Of these illustrious citizens destroy'd. 
 And who destroy'd them but this Antony ? 
 The Senatorial authority 
 Is much disgrac'd and weaken'd : Antony 
 Hath done it this disgrace, thus weaken'd it 1 
 
 Sometimes the orator repeats the clause 
 Verbatim, thus — "What, sirs, when you decreed 
 Such great and just distinctions to be shewn 
 To the young Caesar for his services 
 In raising forces against Antony, 
 What was in fact, your language, if not this — 
 ' Mark Antony's the enemy of Rome ! ' 
 
 And when you order'd that a vote of thanks 
 Should be presented to those gallant men 
 Who volunteer'd to follow Caesar's flag. 
 Sure this was what, you really meant to say, 
 ' Mark Antony's the enemy of Rome ! ' 
 
 So when you promis'd a reward to those 
 Who left the self created consul's flag, 
 To join our own, what was the sense but this — 
 ' Mark Antony's tlie enemy of Rome ! '
 
 tb 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 Of the Pronunciation of Words and Sentences. 
 
 Sentences consist in general 
 Of two chief parts conjoin'd by particles, 
 Call'd by grammarians, causals, cop'latives, 
 Conditions and comparatives, besides 
 Adversatives and relatives, but all 
 These sentences are not of the same length, 
 For some, as simple ones, are very short 
 Consisting only of one sentiment ; 
 As those of Malherbe may suffice to shew. 
 
 " He died indeed quite young, but truly blest." 
 
 '•' His friends are soon depriv'd of their sweet child ! 
 But his removal is the greatest grief 
 They ever had to feel on his account." 
 
 " He had enjoy'd the sweets a little while. 
 Without the bitters of this tearful world." 
 
 " His walk was short, but all the way on flowers ! " 
 
 " Whatever pains and trials might have come ; 
 His early death prevented the effect," 
 
 These periods must be spoken in one breath, 
 Or, otherwise, sustain much injury.
 
 77 
 
 Some Sentences are longer as we find 
 In the same author — '• Look upon the world, 
 As on a place where something will be lost 
 Day after day, till all at last is gone ; 
 And let these meditations fill your soul, 
 That having its original from heaven, 
 'Twill there return to crown its happiness." 
 
 These may be spoken also in a breath, 
 Provided that the voice be pretty good : 
 At any rate the effort must be made. 
 Because a period is rounder far, 
 And much more graceful spoken all at once, 
 I'han with an intermission of the voice : 
 You therefore should endeavour all you can, 
 By exercise and study to attam 
 This habit, though, perhaps, a work of time ; 
 The organs of the voice must needs be good. 
 With which proviso, art will perfect it. 
 As Photius shews us in Demosthenes, 
 Who gave the Actor Neoptolemus 
 A thousand drachms for teaching him the art ; 
 Whereby he strengthen'd his to that degree, 
 That it became as strong, as it was weak. 
 And all his difficulties disappear'd. 
 
 But other periods of greater length, 
 And more extensive range, must be pronounc'd 
 With gentle respiration, once or twice ; 
 St. Bernard gives an instance of this sort — 
 
 " Like as the health is prejudic'd by food. 
 Uneasy of digestion, whence arise 
 Those vicious humours which destroy the tone. 
 And action of the stomach ; so, no less, 
 The memory or stomach of the soul. 
 Becomes iinpair'd by too much mental food, 
 If undigested into charity. 
 Unless diffus'd through all its arteries.
 
 * 
 
 8 
 
 Into the life and conduct of the man. 
 Nay if it turn not to a good account 
 In acting on the hoart to make it good ; 
 And transformation of the character ; 
 Does not this knowledge into sin decline, 
 As undigested meats into disease ?" 
 
 The first part, in one breath, may very well 
 Be spoken, but the second will require 
 A gentle pause though imperceptible : 
 The colon and the semicolon seem 
 The proper place to breathe, but oftener 
 Or at a shorter stop, is not allow'd. 
 
 Another sort there is call'd Spiritus, 
 Of the same order, composition, scope 
 With what are properly term'd periods ; 
 And differ only, in that they contain 
 A greater number of the articles, 
 Although propounded in the single form : 
 As the same author in the following : — 
 
 " Let then such prelates have your confidence 
 As make the Lord their fear, and none beside ; 
 Who have no hope but God, and being sent 
 Into the provinces for noblest ends. 
 Seek not themselves, but you ; not gold, but Christ : 
 Whose object is to gather souls to him. 
 Not to provide a coffer for themselves ! 
 Who are a John the Baptist to the court ; 
 A Moses to Egyptians ; Phineas 
 To fornicators in the christian camp ; 
 As an Elias to idolaters ; 
 Elisha to the perishing for food ; 
 A Peter to the Hypocrites ; a Paul 
 To the blasphemers ; and a Christ to all : 
 Who do not slight their people, but instruct ;
 
 79 
 
 Who do not flatter, but rebuke the rich ; 
 
 Do not oppress the poor, but comfort them ; 
 
 Nor fear, but scorn the threats of wicked men ; 
 
 ^\ ho with no perturbation meet their flocks. 
 
 Or leave them with displeasure in their heart ; 
 
 Who do not rob the churches, but reform ; 
 
 Nor pick the peoples pocket, but correct 
 
 Their vices, and console their consciences ; 
 
 Who watch with jealousy their own repute. 
 
 Nor cast reflection upon other names ; 
 
 Men of strict piety and fervent prayer ; 
 
 Who judge that greater profit doth accrue 
 
 From prayer than an elaborate discourse ; 
 
 Because hereby their lives become more j'ust. 
 
 Their converse more improving to the world. 
 
 Their memories more blest when they are gone : 
 
 ^^ ho make themselves belov'd for deeds not words ; 
 
 And venerable, not by pomp or state. 
 
 But by their actions of benevolence ! 
 
 Who with the lowly have humility. 
 
 And with the pure the greatest purity : 
 
 But can rebuke the harden'd reprobate, 
 
 Reprove the wicked with authority. 
 
 And render to the proud as they deserve : 
 
 To whom the widow and the fatherless 
 
 Are far more dear than worldly relatives : 
 
 Who fain would take the little they should have ; 
 
 Who freely give what freely they receiv'd, 
 
 And from a love of moral excellence. 
 
 Do right, and punish wrong : — and who, in fine. 
 
 Give evidence to all that they are taught 
 
 By the same Spirit as the seventy, 
 
 On whom his influences were bestow'd, 
 
 As Moses's coadjutors, or the twelve 
 
 Apostles on the Pentecostal day. 
 
 True prelates these, who present, absent, aim 
 
 To honour only God, and do you good ; 
 
 And from their missions to their several homes 
 
 Return, not laden with unhallowed spoil,
 
 80 
 
 Or tlio productions of the provinces, 
 I^ut willi an inward peace and holy joy, 
 Arising from the thought of good achiev'd ; 
 I'o kingdoms hy evangelizing them, 
 To heathens by enacting christian laws; 
 And discipline enlorc'd in ev'ry church, 
 And turning sinners from the path to hell ! ! " 
 
 Such periods as these do not require 
 The speaker's strongest, or his longest breath ; 
 But he may imperceptibly, respire, 
 At ev'ry sep'rate particle therein, 
 As all of equal value in the speech ; 
 And let these few remarks suffice to shew 
 Both when, and where, the orator must pause ; 
 Only what follows must be well observed. — 
 
 — Never to subdivide the sentences, 
 
 As if consisting of two periods, 
 
 Instead of one in each ; — and yet bestow 
 
 Sufficient emphasis at every turn. 
 
 That all the clauses may be kept distinct. 
 
 And this is to be done especially 
 
 In longer periods, that so the mind 
 
 And mem'ry of the hearers, and his own. 
 
 May not be overburdened with the length. 
 
 Thus in his speech for the Manilian law, 
 
 Tully would doubtless bear in mind this rule — 
 
 " Sirs, what a shame it is that after all. 
 The barb'rous murder of our citizens, 
 Throughout all Asia in a single day, 
 And in so many cities ; at a word. 
 And with one blow ; the tyrant should elude 
 For three and twenty years his punishment ; 
 And still reign on Avith growing insolence. 
 Which seeks no shelter in obscurity. 
 In Pontus, Cappadocia^ or elsewhere ; 
 But hectors in his ancestor's domain. 
 And braves it to your face in open day ! "
 
 81 
 
 At every sentence make a gentle pause, 
 If short, a short one ; long, a longer one ; 
 Not merely for the sake of emphasis, 
 And to assist the hearers, but yourself; 
 And reinforce the action of the lungs. 
 Observing also, that you drop your voice, i 
 
 Or raise it softly, for variety, | 
 
 According to the subject of discourse. j 
 
 Another observation still remains, /_ 
 
 Namely, that when a Period requires 
 A greater elevation of the voice. 
 
 You must economize its tone before, ' 
 
 And carry on the balance thus reserv'd, 
 T' increase its vigour in the proper place. 
 Roscius and Esopus excell'd in this, I 
 
 As Tully in his Orator remarks ; — 1 
 
 " Yes, the brave warrior's noble choice and shield 
 Is honour, not the booty of the field" ! ! 
 
 (Said Roscius), but with less of vehemence, 
 And earnest action till he came at last 1 
 
 To this all stirring question — " What is it ? ! 
 
 What is it that I see ? He hither comes, 
 Arm'd, yes, in arms, into our temple gates" ! 
 
 So Esopus -would not pronounce these words, 
 " Where shall 1 find relief, or whither fly ? 
 With all the energy within his grasp ; 
 But rather faintly, and with little shew 
 Of gesture, till he came upon that burst — 
 " But O my honoured father ! O the land 
 Of my nativity ! O Priam's house" ! 
 Here all his animation was displayM. 
 'I'hus in a painting by the soften'd light 
 And di.stances, arrang'd with utmost skill, 
 The foreground objects such advantage gain 
 That we are ready to exclaim, "lis life !
 
 82 
 
 From Periods, and perfect sentences, 
 I now proceed to words. Observe then, lirst, 
 That the best scholars and most polish'd men 
 Pronounce tlie words in ordinary use ; 
 Avoitling all provincial idioms, 
 Syllabical, or otherwise, as coarse, 
 And prejudicial to an orator. 
 1'his may be learnt in the metropolis 
 Of England, or of Prance ; as formerly 
 At Rome or Athens in the classic age. 
 
 Pausanius the sophister imbib'd 
 These vicious habits as Philiscus writes ; 
 Contracting some, and eking others out, 
 Against all license or propriety, 
 And this, though eloquent and witty too, 
 And much admir'd for ready utterance, 
 Got him the nickname of a sorry cook, 
 Who, with the best provisions in the world. 
 Could make no dish for any one to eat ! 
 
 To guard against this fault, converse with men 
 "Who are above you in the learned ranks, 
 Make their expressions, and their style your own ; 
 And never be asham'd to ask advice, 
 (Where you are quite at home) on doubtful points ; 
 Till by degrees, your accent and your words, 
 Pjecome as pure and elegant as their's. 
 
 Be careful next to lay great emphasis, 
 Or stress, upon emphatic words, as those 
 (^f Affirmation. — Certainly, Indeed, 
 Assuredly, l^xpressly, and the like. 
 Of Commendation — as Illustrious, 
 Incomparable, Vast, Incredible, 
 Inestimable, Good, Ineffable, 
 August, Majestic, Pompous, Glittering,. 
 Of Dispraise- Heinous, Bad, Detestable,
 
 83 
 
 Monstrous and Wicked, Cruel, Infamous. 
 Of Lamentation — Sad, Unfortunate, 
 Deplorable, Distressing, Pitiful. 
 And mind besides the stress, to speak these last, 
 In plaintive, or a melancholy tone. 
 
 All words of Quantity, require still yet 
 A loftier accent — as Sublime, Profound, 
 Grand, High, Long, Large, Eternal and Immense. 
 As well as terms of UnTersality — 
 In all the world. For ever, Ev'ry where, 
 In general, No, never, and the like. 
 These must be spoken M'ith a gravity. 
 And powerful accent to have due effect. 
 Terms of Extenuation and Contempt — 
 As feeble, insolent, mean, little, low, 
 With despicable, insignificant, 
 Require an abject, low, and less'ning voice, 
 And accent of disdain, and utter scorn ; 
 For instance, if in preaching, a divine 
 Should represent a sinner in distress 
 Lamenting his condition in these words — 
 *' Upon examination of my faith, 
 I find it weak, imperfect, languishing ! " 
 'I'o use an elevated tone, were here 
 Ridiculous indeed, and contrary 
 To all the rules of nature and of art ; 
 Because the words weak, languishing, require 
 A doleful accent, and complaining sound. 
 And this distinction of the mode of speech 
 Not only is agreeable to things, 
 But serves moreover for variety, 
 A leading object with the Orator. 
 
 I only add that he must not relax 
 But keep his voice at full the usual height, 
 Until the very close of his discourse ; 
 An observation to be borne in mind 
 
 c; 2
 
 84 
 
 Particularly when the Periods 
 
 Conclude as in the French, with words like these 
 
 " Ce n'est q'une figure, type, similitude." 
 
 How faint and poor were such a Period ! 
 
 Because the letters ' e' and ' i ' and ' u' 
 
 Have in themselves such Httle energy. 
 
 But if it should conclude with words like these 
 
 Incomparable, eclatante ! althousfh 
 
 The tone should not be rais'd to half the pitch. 
 
 The power syllabical would spread itself 
 
 Through all the room, by reason that the sounds. 
 
 Of ' a' and ' o' are mighty in themselves ! 
 
 Which rule for the last words of sentences. 
 
 Deserves the more attention, from the fact. 
 
 That many in this point most sadly fail.
 
 85 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Of Gesture, ia general. 
 
 'Tis time that we proceed to action now ; 
 Of vast importance to the Orator 
 To waken the emotions of the soul ! 
 Which eloquence alone could not achieve. 
 To kindle in the minds and thoughts of those 
 Who hear and see him, all the glow he feels ! 
 Hence in the Church a man desires to see 
 The Preacher's face, as well as hear his voice ; 
 And if his pew preclude this privilege, 
 He reaps far less advantage to his mind, 
 Although the sermon be most excellent ! 
 Both faculties may equally conduce 
 Alone, to our advantage, but combin'd, 
 Express to a perfection, what we wish 
 In all the intercourse of mind with mind. 
 For if by speech alone we converse hold 
 With the unhappy blind ; by signs alone. 
 Or action, can we edify the deaf ; 
 Who were, without this faculty, debarr'd 
 All conversation with their fellow men ! 
 
 Another great advantage Gesture has 
 Above Pronunciation, if alone, 
 Is this, that whereas none can understand 
 Our words in any language but their own. 
 Gesture is grown familiar to the world, 
 
 G 3
 
 86 
 
 In every age and clime beneath the sun ; 
 
 The common language ol" the universe, 
 
 Which strikes the understanding through the eyes ! 
 
 Nor can -vvc marvel at th'amazing power 
 
 Of action on the passions, AvhtMi we feel 
 
 The eloquence of painting, strike so deep, 
 
 As to impress our hearts beyond all words ! 
 
 The latter are the mainspring in the hands 
 
 Of those who understand them, but devoid 
 
 Of action are dispassionate and dead, 
 
 For this is all the life of a discourse. 
 
 Hence Pliny junior much disapprov'd 
 The reading of orations by ourselves 
 To others, or their reading them to us ; 
 As prejudicial to their eloquence, 
 Because the act of reading, chains the hands 
 And eyes, which should be free to give effect, 
 And rouse th' attention of an audience ! 
 But on the contrary, when the harangue 
 Is aided, and enforc'd with eloquence, 
 And gesture elegant and a propos, 
 Th' effect is quite astounding, and the hold 
 The Orator obtains upon the mind. 
 The eyes, the ears, almost incredible ! 
 
 And if engaged in argument with one 
 Who has no action he discomfits him. 
 And overcomes him with the greatest ease ; 
 As Cicero CcEcilius, in the suit 
 Hortensius versus Verres, when his pride 
 Far, far exceeded his capacity. 
 
 " Consider it, said he, and ponder well 
 The dreadful risk, which your pretensions run. 
 In my opinion, sir, a dozen words, 
 With his accustom'd wit and eloquence. 
 Would baffle and confuse your puny thoughts 
 Into a perfect stand, if stand you could 
 Before his powerful eye, and dazzling mien !
 
 And when again he represents the case 
 Of Brutus foil'd by Crassus at the bar, 
 He says, "He spake the words in such a way, 
 With such an eye, at every turn he took, 
 As quite disabled and confounded him ! " 
 
 But that this language of the face and hand 
 Be fully understood, adapt with care 
 The action to the subject in debate ; 
 Or to the passion you desire to raise ; 
 Condole not with a cheerful merry face ! 
 Affirm not with the gesture of a man 
 Who, horrorstruck, repels a serious charge ! 
 For this would be unseemly and unwise. 
 If you would gain applause or confidence. 
 Nor can you be too much upon your guard 
 .\gainst a stiff, and an affected air, 
 Offensive in th' extreme! — a natural 
 Not artificial gesture, is the best. 
 The ofi'spring and result of what you say ! 
 In fine, the orator, if possible 
 Must manage it so well, that all may see. 
 And hear, with unmix'd pleasure, his address ; 
 With a pronunciation clear and strong, 
 And consonant with all the rules above. 
 
 A graceful action is more difficult 
 To be attain'd than verbal eloquence ; 
 Because a man by hearing his own voice, 
 jMay tune it, in a measure, to his ear ; 
 But cannot regulate his hand, or eye, 
 Or gen'ral mien, because, not see himself; 
 Which was the reason why Demosthenes 
 Spake his Orations with a looking glass. 
 Wherein he saw himself, tVom licad to foot ; 
 And thus avoided the inelegant. 
 But with some little disadvantage too, 
 li) that it represents upon the left. 
 The right hand gesture, awkwardly enough.
 
 «8 
 
 Unless we change the hands alternately, 
 As we may wish to witness the effect. 
 But what if this should make us substitute 
 One for the other in the Church or Court ? 
 If then the mirror should not be approved, 
 Or thouglit desirable on this account, 
 Request some friend to give you his advice ; 
 I mean, of course, a person of good taste 
 And judgment to direct you on this point. 
 But the best method to attain this art. 
 Is to select some finish'd orator 
 And perfect gentleman to be your guide 
 And model, as Hortensius formerly 
 To Esopus and Roscius, who were wont 
 To follow him about from place to place, 
 On purpose to acquire his elegance 
 Of gesture, and of language for the stage ! 
 
 y 
 I. 
 
 ^^^M^"
 
 89 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Particular Rules for Gesture. 
 
 To give you all the choicest rules I can 
 For Action, let me notice first of all 
 The government and order of the frame, 
 Or human body, as it is entire. 
 And in the next place, how the head and eyes, 
 The eyebrows and the face must move themselves. 
 And thirdly of the action of the hands, 
 For the right management of which more rules 
 Are requisite, than all the other parts. 
 
 First for the body as a whole, observe, 
 It must not every moment change its place 
 Or posture, which were painful to the eye. 
 And might give rise to a comparison 
 Like that of Junius against Curiou, 
 Whom he resembled to a man at sea 
 In a cockboat, for tossing here and there, 
 To right and left without a moment's ease ! 
 But then no less, avoid the lifeless stand. 
 Like stock or maypole, which is quite as bad ; 
 For this is most unnatural, because 
 It contradicts the great Creator's aim, 
 Who in his wisdom made the human form 
 On locomotive principles, to move 
 (We speak with rev'rence) as the case requires.
 
 90 
 
 Besides, the straight line, school boy attitude, 
 Unhending at the turn ot a discourse. 
 Defeats the object of the orator 
 Which is, by its variety to please. 
 
 As to the head, 'tis needless here to state 
 All it can do by gestures and by signs, 
 'J'he hints, and intimations it can give, 
 As of refusing, granting — to confnin 
 Admire, or reprehend ; for this is known 
 Hy ev'ry one ; I only would remark 
 Two things of chief importance on "this point. 
 The first is that the head nmst not be held 
 Too high, or lean too forward when we speak 
 Which were a show of pride and consequence ; 
 Nor yet be bent or lower'd to the breast, 
 A prejudice not only to the eye 
 But voice, thus rendered far less audible, 
 Distinct, and proper : neither must it turn 
 Towards the shoulders, which would indicate 
 Indifference and languor of the mind. 
 Hut keep it always modestly erect. 
 According to its natural design, 
 And the becoming dignity of 'man ! 
 
 1 he other observation I would make, 
 Is this — That it is most inelegant 
 To keep the head as of a statue, or 
 A gentleman in tapestry, quite still ! 
 And yet, it should not move, or throw itself 
 Incessantly about at every turn 
 Of the address, or as the orator 
 Advances to the climax of his speech. 
 But, to avoid extremes, should always turn 
 With smoothness on the neck, as circumstance. 
 Or Fubject in debate may make it meet, 
 Not only to enable him to see 
 The countenances of the audience 
 Seated ju.st opposite, but likewise those 
 On either side, to whom he should direct
 
 v^l 
 
 Alternately, a kind discerning eye, 
 
 And then resume his posture as before, 
 
 So that his voice may be distinctly heard 
 
 By all who are assembled in the place. 
 
 To this it must be addeil, that the head 
 
 Should always wait upon the eye or hand, 
 
 On this side or on that ; except alone 
 
 When we reject, refuse, repel, discard, 
 
 Disown, abhor, or disavow a thing. 
 
 As when the poet says, " I think myself 
 
 Unworthy of such praise." Or thus exclaims — 
 
 '■' The gods divert from us so great a plague ! " 
 
 Here we must use the right hand whilst the face 
 
 Is turn'd, as in abhorrence, to the left. 
 
 But above all the face gives most effect 
 
 And life and animation to a speech. 
 
 Hence Crassus well remarks in Cicero 
 
 The ancients disapprov'd of Roscius'mask 
 
 Because it hid his face, and all the traits 
 
 Of varied character upon the stage ; 
 
 So that we ought to take the greatest pains 
 
 Before, and when we meet the public gaze, 
 
 That there be nothing of repulsion there. 
 
 Unkind, or apathetic, or morose. 
 
 Except as we would set the passions forth, 
 
 Or personate the character of such ; 
 
 And then return to our own countenance — 
 
 Whose smiles will shew affection, love and joy ; 
 
 Its mildness mark our pity — our reproof 
 
 Or reprehension, its severity; 
 
 Its condescending dignity of look 
 
 Shews our concern for our inferiors ; 
 
 Whilst a submissive countenance, bespeaks 
 
 Profound respect for all above ourselves. 
 
 As for the speaker's eyes they ought to fall 
 On some or other of his audience 
 With mark'd regard, throughout the whole address ; 
 Yet not with fix'd attention, to annov
 
 
 But to awaken and retain the ear, 
 For nothing in the world can be so dull 
 As an harangue like those of raniarisque, 
 Who us'd to turn his face upon the stage 
 From those to whom he spake, and fix his eyes 
 On some one object near him, ' silly man,' 
 As Theophrastus calls him, for his pains ! 
 
 But if your anger kindle, then your eye 
 Will sparkle in their eyelids like the stars. 
 So that a foreigner, or one quite deaf 
 Who could not hear nor understand the words. 
 Would easily perceive that you were wrath ; 
 Whilst all who understood and felt the cause 
 Of your resentment, would respond thereto, 
 By sympathetic anger in their own. 
 
 This power in all the passions is alike. 
 Thus if from violent distress you weep. 
 Or at your own or others misery, 
 'Twill presently dissolve them into tears ; 
 Which made the old Tragedians imitate, 
 As far as possible upon the stage 
 This tenderness of nature, till at times 
 They brought the counterfeit to such a pitch. 
 That all the Theatre was fill'd with tears. 
 And this was one among the methods us'd 
 To call their own and public feeling forth ; 
 They pondered o'er some real case of woe. 
 Some great aflfliction preying on their minds, 
 Amid their actings on the lifeless boards. 
 And perfectly distinct from rhapsody 
 Of bygone tales which touch'd them not at all. 
 Two notable examples may be seen 
 In history — Comedian Polus one. 
 Who after being absent for a time, 
 Occasion'd by the death of his own son ; 
 Return'd upon the stage in such distress.
 
 93 
 
 That when he came to act Electra's part 
 In Sophocles, who carries out the urn 
 Wherein Orestes' bones should be enshrin'd, 
 To do it to the hfe, he took his child's 
 Instead thereof, and brought them in his arms ! 
 And now indeed his eyes affect his heart 
 To a degree beyond all precedent ; 
 That all the Theatre was fiU'd with woe ! 
 
 The other instance is of Esopus, 
 Who had a boundless love for Cicero, 
 And felt the deepest sorrow for his friend. 
 At his departure into banishment. 
 Hence he resolv'd upon one effort more, 
 Besides all those his noble friends had made 
 To rouse the pity of his enemies ; 
 The tragedy of Accius seem'd to him 
 Most suited for this purpose, where we find 
 That true pathetic strain of Telamon 
 The exile, and the dread calamities 
 Of Priam's house — see Tully's Tusculan, 
 And the oration made for Sextius ; 
 But in those verses sure his thoughts would run, 
 Not on the fable, but the real woes 
 Of his lov'd friend, and so indeed they did. 
 Until his agony became so great, 
 That e'en the most insensible were mov'd 
 To bitter tears, and all his enemies 
 Lamented the affliction they had brought 
 Upon his friend, and begg'd he might return 
 And be restored to all his dignities. 
 As Cicero, with heartfelt gratitude 
 To that most famous actor, has declar'd. 
 
 Now if the sympathy of hearts be such, 
 And that in Theatres where people go 
 For pleasure and amusement, how much more 
 Where all is sacred, serious, at church,
 
 94 
 
 Whoro God and our Salvation are tho theme? 
 Things of the highest consequence to man ! 
 Sure we may here expect to move the heart, 
 If fust by grace, our own be deeply touch'd ! 
 \\ hat must have been the wonderfid effect 
 Of Paul's emotion and the tears he shed 
 Amongst Christ's chosen flock at Ephesus, 
 In that most melting exhortation there, 
 Recorded in the Acts ? — " Remember all, 
 That for the space of three revolving years 
 I have not fail'd to caution ev'ry one 
 Both night and day with earnestness and tears ! " 
 And when he thus had spoken, kneeling down 
 Pray'd Avith them all, who wept upon his neck 
 And kiss'd him, as their father in the Lord, 
 And foUow'd him witk weeping to the ship ! 
 
 The sacred orator should first excite 
 Wilhin himself as far as in him lies, 
 A deep conviction of the guilt of sin ; 
 E'en till his heart dissolves in real grief. 
 And thence 'twill issue in affecting tears. 
 And move the audience to like distress ; 
 Who sooner with such eloquence relent, 
 Than all the studied logic of the schools. 
 
 For an example in these modern times — 
 A minister of greatest eminence. 
 As he discours'd upon the awful spread 
 Of sin within the limits of his cure, 
 And faithfully admonish'd them to look 
 For corresponding judgments, added thus — 
 ' God will forsake us ! ' hero his utterance 
 Entirely fail'd him, through his tears and sobs. 
 But in a little afterwards, he cried 
 With a most piteous and distressing voice 
 " And if thou God forsake us, what are we ! 
 " Lost beyond hope, undone eternally ! "
 
 95 
 
 This burst of agony o'ercame them all ! 
 So that with overwhelming grief they wept 
 For all their sins, and afterwards, no doubt. 
 Their life and conversation would be chancr'd. 
 
 As to the proper movement of the eyes, 
 Downcast or rais'd, the sentiment alone 
 Must influence their action. If you speak 
 Of heav'n or heav'nly things, then lift them up. 
 But if of earth, or sublunary things 
 Then cast them down ; for otherwise, it were 
 A solecism of the faculty, 
 And merit what Fhilostratus observes 
 Upon that silly sophister, who ca^t 
 His eyes upon the ground, as he exclaim'd, 
 " O heavens hear ! " And rais'd them to the skies 
 (Absurd enough) when he cried out " O earth ! " 
 And you must study likewise to adapt 
 Your eyes to all the passions of the mind, 
 And cast them down to intimate disdain ; 
 And raise them with the utmost confidence. 
 When virtuous deeds and honour are your theme ; 
 But more especially if you should call 
 On heaven and earth to witness your complaint. 
 Direct your eyes to each accordingly, 
 And raise your hands, to give it due effect. 
 
 Your eyebrows must not always be relax'd 
 And knit but seldom when you mark contempt ! 
 Some speakers lift them up at ev'ry turn, 
 If they are earnest and impassionate ; 
 Or which is worse, as Piso did of old. 
 Most ludicrously, draw one eyelid up, 
 And drop the other nearly to the chin, 
 As Cicero relates. Both should he kept 
 In the same posture and equality. 
 As nature plainly teaches us they ought; 
 Allowing them, however, to contract. 
 Dilute or Ix-iid. a«^ modo.'^ly, or joy,
 
 96 
 
 Regret, or sorrow, make it requisite. 
 
 Never distort or screw the mouth at all, 
 
 For this is most offensive to the eye. 
 
 " Sexlus Penarius was once rebuff'd 
 
 For this and other habits of that kind 
 
 As if he had a walnut in his teeth, 
 
 Crack sir, your walnut first, and then proceed." 
 
 Nor must you bite your lips or moisten them, 
 
 As some through inadvertency may do. 
 
 Most unbecoming in the gentleman. 
 
 Then for the shoulders, do not shrug them up 
 
 At every word, as did the witnesses 
 
 From Greece, whom Cicero derides 
 
 In pleading for Rabirius Posthumus, 
 
 Whose gestures were confin'd to these alone ! 
 
 Demosthenes at first had this great fault. 
 
 But by reciting in a narrow place, 
 
 And with a dagger at his shoulder's toji. 
 
 As often as he felt the point thereof 
 
 He knew that he had err'd and master'd it. 
 
 Others again there are who throw their heads 
 
 Quite back, and consequently shock the eye 
 
 With rounded waist ; or lean upon the arm. 
 
 And only make their action with the hand 
 
 In this position, from the elbow joint ! 
 
 This, and all other vices of the sort, 
 
 An orator should carefully avoid. 
 
 As to the hands the chiefest instruments 
 Of action, these we want at every turn, 
 According to the subject of discourse. 
 We use them to accuse, acquit, entreat. 
 Or when we promise, threaten or admire. 
 In fact at almost ev'ry word we say. 
 Or passion we depict ! Quintilian 
 Has well observ'd in reference to their use. 
 That all the other parts assist to speak. 
 But for the hands, they speak as 'twere themselves. 
 And Marshall, in the stead of ' tout le geste'.
 
 97 
 
 Writes ' tout la main,' because, says he, the hands 
 
 Are all in Action, or the greatest part. 
 
 If gracefully adapted to the theme ! 
 
 Let then the Orator observe these rules, — 
 
 First, not to use them in th' Exordium, 
 
 At least -v^'ith any show, nnless obliged, 
 
 As Ajax, 'gainst Ulysses, where th' address 
 
 Is altogether sudden or abrupt. 
 
 *' With wrath impatient his stern eyes survey 
 Sigoeum, and the Navy which there lay : 
 'J'hen holding up his hands, O heav'n ! he said. 
 Before the Fleet must we our title plead ? 
 And is Ulyssps my competitor? 
 \\ hose flightful fear did Hector's flames abhor, 
 Those I sustain'd, from those this Navy freed." 
 
 Th' extension of the Hands was here no doubt 
 Most proper at the opening of the Speech, 
 As if toward the Fleet, and it had been 
 A blemish if omitted. Otherwise 
 Exordia, for the most part, must be mild 
 And without Gesture, but disliuct and clear : 
 You must not clap the hands, nor strike the desks 
 Nor beat your breast like public Mountebanks, 
 But make the Action chiefly with one hand. 
 And that the Right, or should you use the Left, 
 Let it be only to accompany, 
 Not supersede it : nor must it be rais'd 
 As high as the right hand, except indeed 
 The subject shall require it otherwise 
 As indispensable. For instance, where 
 The Sov'reign Judge arranges all his Sheep 
 Upon his right, and on his left the Goats. 
 Here let each hand alternately be rais'd, 
 As also where our blessed Lord commands, 
 If our right hand should cause us to oflend, 
 To cut it oft"! \N ere I reciting this 
 I should perform the Action with the left, 
 Because the right could not destroy itself;
 
 98 
 
 Note, likewise, that whenever we refer 
 To ought within ourselves, our faculties, 
 Our conscience, or our passions, heart or soul, 
 The right hand should, with gentleness, be laid 
 Upon the breast but not with violence. 
 
 Never make use of the left hand alone ; 
 Some men, left handed, cannot well avoid 
 This fault, through habit from their infancy. 
 Under these circumstances use them both 
 As less offensive to the public view. 
 
 Make all your Action from the left to right, 
 And terminate it there, (your hand I mean) 
 And let it fall with elegance and ease. 
 The Action must commence with your Address, 
 And end with it no less — accompany 
 And not anticipate, nor lag behind ; 
 The movement of the hand must correspond 
 With Nature in the things of Avhich you speak ; 
 Thus, how absurd, if we should say, ' Come in,' 
 With an extended hand ! or, ' Go away,' 
 Withdrawing it ! Or, ' Separate yourselves,' 
 Joining our hands together all the time ! 
 Or, ' Open,' close ! or, * Up,' and drop them down ; 
 This were to contradict both common sense 
 And Nature, and become ridiculous. 
 
 But to proceed. Upon emergencies 
 The Action of the hand is requisite 
 To indicate the ardour of the mind, 
 As in that fine Apostrophe before 
 The Princes of the Blood not long ago 
 In France, by one of the first Barristers. 
 
 " Gen'rous and noble Princes, ye w hose Sire 
 Was so distinguish'd for his excellence, 
 Why not, O why not, strangle with your hands 
 Those vile impostors who would fix a stain 
 Upon your guiltless foreheads ! Yes, a stain 
 Of infamv unheard of in the world ! ! "
 
 99 
 
 Who sees not here that all his vehemence^ 
 And language of the hands was in request 
 Upon that Figure of the Orator, 
 ' Why not, O why not strangle with your hands 
 Those vile impostors? ' 
 
 Never elevate 
 Your hand, in speaking, higher than your face. 
 Hut yet as high : Some raise it to the sky, 
 As if they had a quarrel with the stars ! 
 The same proportion ought to be observ'd 
 In holding out the hand, and not as some. 
 Who whilst they speak, regardless of all taste, 
 Hang down their hand as if it were quite dead. 
 And they desir'd to make the ladies faint ! 
 In fine your eyes must circumscribe the bounds 
 And limits of your hands, that when you speak 
 Your mouth, your hands and eyes may all concur 
 In one and the same statement, and convey 
 But one impression to the audience. 
 
 Never exceed, when you extend your arm, 
 Six inches from your side, or you will throw 
 Your Gesture out of sight, except you turn 
 Your head (which were grimace) to see yourself. 
 
 In forms of Adjuration raise your hand, 
 As most agreeable to Holy Writ, 
 \\ here God in promises or menaces 
 Is represented lifting up his hand, 
 That is to say, he swears that he will bless 
 In his compassion, or condemn in ire ; 
 So in an Exclamation, raise your voice. 
 And hand as well, in order to effect. 
 You must not use such Action ev'ry-where. 
 For as the hands ought never to be chain'd. 
 But free to act, so never without cause, 
 Unless you wish to run into the vice 
 Denominated ' Babbling of the hands,' 
 A practice bord'ring on the pantomime 
 Of Greece or Rome, whose boards were fiU'd alone. 
 With Mimicry without a syllable.
 
 100 
 
 Some Actions you must never represent, 
 As fencing, shooting, with the gun or bow, 
 Nor pla\ing on the virginal or harp, 
 ]*iano, tlute, or other instrument, 
 Nor handicrafts, and such like characters. 
 
 Again, for Gestures, innocent enough, 
 But not important in their influence. 
 We ought to make them with less frequency, 
 And in the mildest manner possible, 
 l'"or otherwise to use our vehemence 
 And unremitted Action of the Arms 
 At ev'ry trifle were to meet the scorn 
 Of Curion, as Quintilian relates. 
 Who, in discoursing with Oclavius, 
 l^erfum'd from head to foot, kept off the flies. 
 By the perpetual motion of his hands; 
 Ohserving which, Sicinius jeered him thus, — 
 " Vour obligations, dear Octavius, 
 To this good gentleman, are infinite. 
 For had he not bsen close upon the spot, 
 Ihe flies had certainly devour'd you up ! " 
 But what is noble in a[)peaiance, great. 
 And worthy of mankind, we ought to shew. 
 E'en to the life with Action's pleasing aid. 
 
 When a Prosopopceia is employ'd. 
 Or second person as it were brought in, 
 You must adopt the gesture consonant 
 To him in the condition you describe ; 
 Thus, if it be of Jesus on the cross, 
 Transfix'd thereon, and his most bitter plaint, 
 I\Iy God, my God, hast thou forsaken me ! 
 Or his atfectiug pvay'r, Forgive, I pray, 
 Forgive them, for they know not what they do ! 
 You must not, though correct at other times. 
 Here clasp your handS; as if in pray'r to hcav'n, 
 Or in an agony of pain and grief, 
 Nor in allusion to his confidence
 
 101 
 
 In his belov'd disciple, where he says, 
 ' Woman, behold thy Son ! must you pronounce 
 The words with any movement of the hands, 
 Although 'twere natural at other times, 
 Because the hands of the dear Sufferer 
 Were not, and could not be, extended thus ! ! 
 
 As to the other rules set down by some. 
 Relating to the hand or part thereof, 
 All men are not agreed; Hortensius 
 And Cicero may carry it too far; 
 Nor does it seem at all desirable 
 To subdivide the Action of the hand, 
 Neither is any thing insisted here, 
 Upon its influence in distress and grief, 
 Accordant with the Greek and Latin Schools, 
 Where they were wont to beat their head, or brow, 
 Or breast ; or smite upon the thigh, 
 All which were unbecoming in our day ; 
 Nor have I touch'd upon the sundry rules 
 For the direction of the feet and knees. 
 Because they spake upon a platform rais'd 
 Above the audience, with room enough 
 To walk, as many did, in their address, 
 Which gave occasion ,in a banter once. 
 For Fiavius Virginius to ask, 
 " How many miles the speaker had declaim'd ! " 
 Neither the Bar or Pulpit are expos'd 
 To this description of his pleasantry, 
 I'he posture being fix'd : and hence we waive 
 Precepts irrevalent in modern tunes. 
 And may, perchance have overlook'd some few, 
 Essential deem'd by others : but the chief. 
 Most useful, and important have been giv'n. 
 
 <l#^
 
 Hi- 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Instructions for putting all the above-mentioned Precepts 
 into Practice. 
 
 Ere we conclude, a little mast be said 
 Upon the Modulation, and the turns 
 Of Voice and gen'ral mien, which we adopt, 
 Especially as it regards the face 
 And eye, though difficult with pen, 
 If not impossible, to make it clear. 
 The Student will, by dint of practice, best 
 Attain this art, assisted by some friend, 
 Or well-selected Elocutionist, 
 To speak, and hear him speak alternately, 
 In order to correct, or to improve. 
 What is amiss, or might be better done, 
 And hence Augustine begg'd to be excus'd, 
 Upon a noble passage in St. Paul, 
 Giving his friend Paulinus any view, 
 Save viva voce of pronouncing it. 
 Under the wing of which apology 
 We well may plead indulgence for ourselves. 
 
 W^hat has been here advanc'd will well repay 
 The diligent practitioner for all 
 His pains and study, and insure success, 
 As far, at least, as mediocrity. 
 Therefore I only add, before I close 
 This humble Essay, some few gen'ral hints, 
 Which may be useful to an Orator. 
 And first, observe the Precepts of this art, 
 In Cicero's Avords, are less attractive far 
 In theory, than practice — in the book
 
 103 
 
 They cannot but appear quite flat and dry, 
 
 But carried to the Hand, the Lip, the Eye 
 
 Will add a grace and lustre to our speech, 
 
 Embellishing what in itself were else 
 
 Neither persuasive, elegant, nor great, 
 
 And make it far superior to the claims 
 
 Of the most classic, actionless discourse ; 
 
 However, in the book, replete with taste. 
 
 You must not, therefore, throw these rules away. 
 
 Though some appear beneath a man's regard. 
 
 Scarce worth perusal — yet, I do not mean 
 
 That either the Divine or Barrister 
 
 Should always pore upon them in the Church, 
 
 Or in the Court, for there quite other thoughts 
 
 Should occupy their minds, and theory, 
 
 (Well in its place,) be made to cede the chair 
 
 To such reflections, and rich sentiments. 
 
 As rise spontaneously in the mind. 
 
 Or from the Volume, or the house of God, 
 
 Or end of all our pleading, virtue's praise. 
 
 And its protection in this sinful Avorld ! 
 
 The very thought of rules at such a time 
 
 And care about them, would distract our mind. 
 
 Take off its warmth and spirit stirring power. 
 
 Disturb the mem'ry and perplex the brain. 
 
 For as St. Austin, most correctly says, 
 
 " Tis quite impossible a man should speak 
 
 With ease or clearr.ess with his thoughts intent 
 
 Upon the precepts of an Orator, 
 
 Should he attempt to do so, probably 
 
 The most important things would be forgot." 
 
 Nor yet do I intend to intimate 
 That you should never venture to address 
 A Congregation, or to plead a Cause, 
 Without a strict preparatory course 
 Of Action in your study ; we are told 
 That Roscius never ventur'd to adopt 
 A gesture unexamin'd hi the Glass !
 
 104 
 
 Such strict attention were impossible 
 
 In a divine, Avhose time is occupied 
 
 With many Sermons, or a Barrister, 
 
 Whose reputation tills his hands with Briefs, 
 
 Their thoughts are better far hestow'd than thus, 
 
 In meditating on the weighty things 
 
 They have to say, and the important charge 
 
 Committed to their hands ! Nor does the Court, 
 
 Or Congregation look for such a thing ; 
 
 As Antony remark'd in Cicero, 
 
 *' The auditors, he says, do not expect 
 
 The same exactness in an Orator 
 
 As in an Actor on the public boards, 
 
 Where all the dialogues are fabulous. 
 
 And Action all in all, — that is to say, 
 
 The elegancy, air, and grace of speech 
 
 Are ev'rything, and failing to produce 
 
 l^flfect by these, had better not appear; 
 
 But in a public speech, the audience 
 
 Are chiefly sway'd by the sound argument 
 
 And weighty truths alleg'd ; and for the rest. 
 
 If the deportment be agreeable, 
 
 The manner chaste, the gesture suitable. 
 
 Though not so brilliant, they are satisfied. 
 
 All I would have (in short) a man observe. 
 Who wishes to excel in eloquence. 
 Is only to digest these rules ot Art, 
 Before he- venture on the public ear, 
 By care and constant exercise to speak 
 W ith mediocrity of taste at least ; 
 Thus, for example, let him practise this 
 Of Cicero in the Manilian law. 
 
 To improve his breathing — See Pag-e 43, Chap, XI. 
 
 Beginning " Shame 'tis, gentlemen, that he." 
 
 It may, indeed, be difficult at first 
 To say the whole within a single breath. 
 And, as I think, impossible for some. 
 But they may do it easily enough
 
 105 
 
 By slightly breathing, first, at ' With one blow, 
 
 And then again at ' Growing insolence,' 
 
 Whence they may manage to the period ; 
 
 But should a difficulty still be felt. 
 
 Let them breathe softly, no one seeing it. 
 
 Throughout the sentence, keeping up the voice, 
 
 As absolutely needful to the end. 
 
 And if thus imperceptibly to breathe 
 
 Be not sufficient, they should learn by heart 
 
 This Period of the same great Orator — 
 
 " Pleasure with all her fascinating charms 
 Cannot persuade him to participate. 
 Nor avarice provoke him to be rich. 
 Nor smiling beauty to forget himself 
 Within her bosom ; no, nor civic fame 
 To court its honors ; neither can fatigue 
 Induce him to recline upon the couch 
 Before the duties of the day are done." 
 
 Now let them try to say this in a breath. 
 Or two, or three, till they attain their point. 
 For, as I judge, 'tis exercise alone. 
 And resolution must accomplish it. 
 This practice also -will facilitate 
 The acquisition of variety. 
 As well as other ornaments of speech. 
 And to assist him, I would strongly urge 
 The Student to select some passages 
 Of most acknowledg'd elegance and wit. 
 Ancient or modem, as he may prefer. 
 And keep them always at his finger's end 
 Till he acquire their style and ornament ; 
 I say the finest passages, because 
 Most pleasing to the ear, and soonest learnt, 
 Also because such extracts store the mind 
 With rich materials for constant use. 
 And the more beauties we discover there, 
 So much the higher will ambition soar 
 To reach the standard of their excellence.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the h\st date stamped below. 
 
 20m-7,'67(H3149s4) 
 
 And nothing leave undone to make ourselves 
 Accomplish'd and agreeable to all. 
 
 THOMAS BALSHAW, PEINTEK, ALTRINCHAM.
 
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