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 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 ON 
 
 ELOCUTION.
 
 1^1)1 II /V/('/f<v'vf//y /;r M<tyatl. Rfi^riit Stirtt, I.ciiiioH.
 
 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 ON 
 
 ELOCUTION; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE PE7SI0L0GY AND CULTURE OF VOICE AND SPEECH, AND 
 
 THE EXPRESSION OF THE EMOTIONS BT LANCUAGE, 
 
 COUNTENANCE, AND GESTURE 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 A SPECIAL LECTURE ON THE CAUSES AND CURE OF 
 IMPEDIMENTS OF SPEECH. 
 
 BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF THE 
 
 3Itxtcotiuctocp Course of ?2^ctturc0 
 
 ANNUALLY DELIVERED BY 
 
 CHARLES JOHN PLUMPTRE, 
 
 LECTLRER ON PUBLIC READING AND SPEAKING AT KING's COLLEGE, LONDON, 
 IN THE EVENING CLASSES DEPARTMENT. 
 
 DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION, TO H.RM. THE PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 0,zta nnt ©rcatig ffinlarsclj Illustrattti (!Btiiti'0n. 
 
 LONDON: 
 TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL. 
 
 1881. 
 
 [A// rigfils resc7i'ed.'\
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 p' ' SANTA BARBARA 
 
 JO 
 
 88( 
 
 36 Hamilton Terrace, London, X.W. 
 MR. CHARLES J. PLUMPTRE, 
 
 LECTURER ON PUBLIC READING AND SPEAKING, KING's COLLEGE, 
 LONDON, EVENING CLASSES DEPARTMENT, 
 
 Begs to announce that he lectures and gives practical instruction in Public Reading 
 and Speaking to his classes at King's College, every Tuesday and P'riday Evening, 
 from 8 till 9, during the Winter Session (beginning in October and ending in April), 
 and every Tuesday in the Summer Session (beginning in April and ending in June), 
 from 6.30 to 8 p.m. Private pupils and classes for instruction and practice in all the 
 various branches of Elocution are received by Mr. Plumptre from October till 
 August, at his residence, No. 36 Hamilton Terrace, N. W. 
 
 Special arrangements are made for the reception of pupils suffering under any 
 Impediments of Speech, Defective Articulation, or "Clerical Sore-Throat." 
 
 Arrangements are also made with Institutions, Colleges, and Schools, for a repeti- 
 tion of the substance of Mr. Plumptre's King's College Course of Lectures, com- 
 bined with practical instruction in the art of Reading Aloud and other branches of 
 Elocution. 
 
 Courses of Lectures and practical instruction in Elocution are also given by Mr. 
 Plumptre at Ladies' Colleges and Schools, and Ladies are received as private 
 pupils at his residence. 
 
 N'.B. All applications for Public or Private Recitals, Readings, or Lectures must be 
 addressed to Mr. Pujmptre's private residence, 36 Hamilton Terrace, London, N.W. 
 Terms and Testimonials forwarded on application at the above address. 
 p-Qreigners instructed through the medium of French.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 jEARLY two years have elapsed since the second edition of 
 this work was exhausted ; and I cannot but express my 
 grateful thanks to the Press and to the Public for the very 
 favourable and gratifying reception accorded to the preced- 
 ing editions. I had hoped to have completed the task of preparing 
 this still further enlarged and illustrated edition before the present 
 time ; but the almost incessant employment of my days and nights as 
 Lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking in the Evening Classes 
 Department of King's College, as* a private teacher of Elocution, and 
 in fulfilUng engagements for Lectures and Recitals at Institutions in 
 London and the Provinces, leaves me but scanty leisure for other 
 occupations. 
 
 In the present edition, I have derived very great advantage from the 
 consultations I have had with Dr. Morell Mackenzie, Dr. Gordon 
 Holmes, Dr. Shuldham, Mr. Lennox Browne, and Herr Emil Behnke, 
 in regard to the larynx and its various functions, as well as from the 
 works they have written on that subject, and to them all I beg to express 
 my deep obligations. 
 
 I have also to return my best thanks to Mr. Darwin for his kind 
 permission to use his illustration of the muscles of expression in the 
 human face, and to Dr. Gordon Holmes and Mr. Lennox Browne for 
 theirs in regard to the diagrams which originally appeared in their 
 respective works, as well to Mr. William Carter and Mr. Godfrey Hall 
 for the excellent physiological drawings they have been good enough to 
 make for me as illustrations for this book. 
 
 The portrait which appears in the present edition, from a recent 
 photograph by Mayall, is given (like that which appeared in the former 
 edition) at the request of my past and present classes at King's 
 College. 
 
 I would venture to hope that this edition, amplified so greatly in its
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 details, may serve to refresh the memories of former students who have 
 attended my Lectures, during the many years I have held my present 
 office at King's College, as well as afford useful information and 
 practical suggestions to those persons who may either desire to acquire 
 the art of Elocution as a graceful and, in "every way, beneficial accom- 
 plishment, or those who suffering under what is known as "clerical 
 sore-throat," impediments of speech, or defective articulation, may 
 desire to be freed from those infirmities, or to those whose regular pro- 
 fessional or public life may require them to be at least in some degree 
 versed in the art of Public Reading or extempore speaking. 
 
 This latter subject was but very sUghtly glanced at in my first book, 
 and at Oxford and Cambridge I have confined my practical instruction 
 entirely to the art of Public Reading. But at King's College, instruction 
 in Public Speaking is most properly added to that of Public Reading ; 
 and with great reason, for it by no means follows that excellence in the 
 one art is a guarantee of equal excellence in the other. Indeed, I have 
 known more than one instance of a person acknowledged to be on all 
 sides a first-rate Public Reader, being comparatively a very indifferent 
 extempore speaker ; and I have known on the other hand a man, who 
 for excellent and well-arranged thoughts, fluency of language, and free- 
 dom and animation in delivery, would well deserve to be called an 
 unusually good extempore speaker, yet comparatively fail and seem to 
 be dull and tame, monotonous and fettered in every w^iy, when reading 
 from a book. Of course our aim should be equal excellence in both 
 branches of the art which is taught, but on more tha.n one occasion at 
 King's College, one man at the end of the Session has carried off the 
 prize for Public Speaking, and another for Public Reading. 
 
 It is therefore on this account that in the present volume I have 
 devoted a considerable part to the subject of extempore speaking. I do 
 not of course mean to say anything so absurd as that a man may be 
 made an excellent Reader or Speaker merely by reading books, or hear- 
 ing Lectures on Public Reading and Speaking, without actual practice. 
 It would be equally as unreasonable to say that a person can become 
 an excellent player on the organ or piano, or a fine vocalist, by studying 
 a treatise on music or singing, without practice under a competent in- 
 structor. But in all these cases acquaintance with the theory of the art 
 is first requisite, and then the due practice regularly carried out will 
 ensure more or less proficiency, according to natural gifts and steadiness 
 of application. And this holds equally good in Public Reading and 
 Speaking, as it is acknowledged to hold good in music, singing, painting, 
 or any other art. 
 
 I cannot conclude these few prefatory remarks better than by quoting
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 tlie words of the late Dean of Ripon (the Rev. Hugh M'Neile, D.D.), 
 who in closing a course of Lectures on the Church of England, delivered 
 nearly forty years ago at the Hanover Square Rooms, London, forcibly 
 remarked in reference to educational training for the Ministry : — • 
 
 " No one who has given even a passing attention to the habits and 
 feelings of our people, can doubt of the immense effect produced by a 
 ready and natural elocution : yet how little attention comparatively is 
 paid to a right training for its acquirement ! Looking at all the minis- 
 trations of the Church practically and in detail ; following them from 
 the Pulpit to the Schoolroom ; from these to the Platform ; in whatever 
 department of his labours you contemplate the minister of the Church, 
 it would be difficult to estimate the advantage that might, under the divine 
 blessing, be derived from Elocution classes in our Universities, where, 
 under the management of competent professors, our young men might 
 be trained in recitation, both of selections from standard authors and of 
 their own compositions on set subjects. . . . Instead of superseding 
 any part of the present process, this might be added to it all ; and if 
 candidates for Orders were thereby delayed a year, there would be more 
 than compensation for the delay in the increased competency for the 
 work." 
 
 The ideas thus forcibly put forth by the eloquent divine who, in his 
 own person, afforded a striking example of great natural powers of oratory, 
 developed and cultivated by elocutionary study and practice to the 
 highest degree of perfection, must have been more or less felt by 
 thousands— laymen as well as clergymen — who have at all considered 
 the subject in any of its many forms and phases. No one can look 
 around him, indeed, without being impressed with their truth and 
 importance. Earnestly do I hope that the time is at hand when the 
 national reproach of not having a regular system of training in the arts 
 (to the Church and the Bar the all- important arts) of Public Reading 
 and Speaking, at our Universities, as suggested, not alone by the 
 preacher whom I have quoted, but by many eminent thinkers and 
 writers during the last twenty years, may be removed from amongst 
 us ; and that ere long a regular Professorship of Elocution may be 
 found attached not only to our great Universities, but to all Theological, 
 Legal, and Collegiate Institutions throughout the country. 
 
 CHARLES JOHN PLUMPTRE. 
 
 King's College, London, 
 December i8So.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction — What is Elocution? — Definition— Reasons for the Cultivation of 
 Elocution— Answers to Objections- The Rev. E. Kirk — Extract from the 
 Rev. J. B. Mayor's " Ethics of Ritual " — The Advantages to be gained from a 
 knowledge of the Principles of Elocution in regard to the various Professions, 
 the Church, the Bar, &c. — Claims of Elocution to rank as one of the Fine Arts 
 — Professor J. Hullah — Importance of the subject of Elocution generally 
 — Authorities cited : John Stuart Mill, Dr. Guthrie, Mr. C. Palmer, Dr. 
 Channing, Joshua Steele's " Prosodia Rationalis," Sir Arthur Helps, Rev. 
 F. Trench, Lord G. Hamilton, Archbishop of York, Professor Seeley, Pro- 
 fessor F. W. Newman — Power, richness, and euphony of the English language 
 — Sanitary Advantages of Elocution — Quotation from Sir Henry Holland's 
 •• Medical Notes " — Dr. George Beard — Summary. . . . I 
 
 LECTURE IL 
 
 The Study of the English Language, viewed relatively in regard to other tongues 
 — Importance of the Art of Delivery in Ancient Times — Causes suggested for 
 its subsequent comparative neglect — The Subject viewed in reference to Public 
 and Private Life — Quotation from the Rev. Canon Kingsley— The Rev. James 
 Pycroft's "Twenty Years in the Church" — Popular Readings as an Intellectual 
 Recreation — Good results that might be attained by tliese means — General 
 summary of the subjects discussed in these Lectures. . . . • -3 
 
 LECTURE in. 
 
 How Elocution can best be studied — Analogy between the Study of Music and 
 that of Elocution — Quotations from the American Physiologist, Dr. Rush — 
 General Description of the Organs of Respiration — The Thorax or Chest — The 
 Yertebrse, Ribs, and the Diaphragm and Muscles concerned in Respiration — 
 The Lungs — Physiology of Respiration — Capacity of the Lungs — Results of 
 Experiments made by Dr. Hutchinson — The Trachea or \Yindpipe — The 
 Bronchial Tubes — Mechanism of Respiration, . . * . -34 
 
 LECTURE lY. 
 
 General Description of all the Yocal Organs and their Respective Functions, with 
 Illustrative Drawings — The Discoveries made by means of the Laryngoscope, 
 and its History — Formation of Yoice by the Yocal Cords — Results of the 
 Experiments of Garcia, Tiirck, Czermak, Sir G. D. Gibb, and others — Draw- 
 ings of the Yocal Cords when at rest in silent Respiration and when producing 
 Voice — Change of Yoice at Puberty-^Retention of the Effeminate Yoice in 
 Manhood, and proper Mode of Cure — Auxiliary Organs of Voice — Voices of 
 Animals — Quotation from Dr. Carpenter — Brief Summary of the Articulating 
 Organs. ......... 44
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Respiration and the proper mode of Managing tlie Breath in Public Reading 
 and Speaking— Dr. Morel! ]\Iackenzie — Dr. Shuldham — -Mr. Lennox Browne — 
 Mr. Lunn, &c. . . . . . . . . .60 
 
 LECTURE VL 
 
 Testimony of the late Rev. A. S. Thehvall — Quotation from the Rev. J. 
 Howleit's Work on "Reading the Liturgy" — "The Great Secret" of 
 Respiration, and the history of its transmission — Extracts from the recent 
 Works of Mr. Serjeant Cox and Professor Frobisher — Sanitary advantages 
 resulting from the Mode of Respiration here described — Testimony of George 
 Catlin, the North American traveller — Emmanuel Kant and De Quincey — 
 Causes and cure of " Clerical Sore-Throat" — Dr. Shuldham — Dr. Abbotts — 
 Control of the Breath in Expiration— Opinions of Professor Hullah and Mr. 
 Kingsbury — Summary rules for the management of Respiration in Public 
 Reading, Speaking, and Singing. . . . . . • T^ 
 
 LECTURE Vn. 
 
 Analysis of the elements of the Human Voice — Professor Hullah's suggestions in 
 regard to the best mode of Developing and Cultivating the Speaking Voice — 
 Different degrees of Aperture of the Mouth and the Shape taken by the Lips 
 for the pure Sound of the different Vowels — Herr Georges' method of ascer- 
 taining these — Illustration of the positions of the Lips, by Signor Lanza — 
 Classification of Voices — Causes of the different Classes of Voices — Philosophy 
 of Sound and its Phenomena — Chladni's Experiments — Causes ihat produce the 
 different degrees of Intensity of Sound, Pitch, Tone, and Timbre — Range of 
 Human Perception in regard to Sound — The Teleplione. Phonograph, INIicro- 
 phone, Phoneidoscope, and Audiphone — Difference between Sound and 
 Noise — Resemblance and differences between the Music of Speech and the 
 Music of Song. .... .... • ^'i 
 
 LECTURE Vin. 
 
 Theory of the Inflections of the Human Voice — Practical illustration — Inflec- 
 tions of the Voice as a means of expression natural to man — Remarks of the 
 Abbe Thibout, Mr. Darwin, Mr. Herbert Spencer, and Mr. Litchfield — Tiie 
 first attempt to reduce the inflection of the Voice to a System of Notation made 
 by Joshua Steele in 1775 in his " Prosodia Rationalis," David Garrick and 
 Steele — The use of the Inflections known to the Greek and Roman Orators — 
 Quotation from Quinctilian — Walker's views in regard to the two Primary 
 Inflections — Great importance of a knowledge of the chief principles that 
 govern the Inflections in regard to Elocution. ..... loi 
 
 LECTURE IX. 
 
 The Rising Inflection of the Voice — Principles that govern its application in 
 regard to the Logical expression of Clauses and Sentences : (l) Where the 
 meaning is as yet Incomplete ; (2) Where Clauses or Sentences are Negative 
 in Construction; (3) To connect Kindred Thoughts together; (4) Where 
 Clauses or Sentences are Contingent ; (5) Interrogative Sentences that can be 
 answered by a simple Affirmative or Negative — Piincipies that govern the 
 Rising Inflection in regard to Emotional Expression : (i) Wliere Sentences 
 convey Appeal of any kind ; (2) Where Sentences are in the nature of Suppli- 
 cation or Prayer ; (3) Where Sentences express Love, Joy, Hope, &c. ; (4) 
 Where Sentences exjiress Wonder, Amazement, or Surprise ; (5) Where 
 Sentences are of an Exclamatory Character. . . . . . . . i;o
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LECTURE X. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Tlie Falling Inflections of the voice — Logical Principles of their application : (i) 
 Where the meaning of a Clause or Sentence is complete ; Illustrations ; (2) 
 Where it is required to keep Clauses distinct and independent; Illustrations ; 
 (3) Where an Interrogation cannot be answered by a simple Affirmative or 
 Negative ; Illustrations ; Exceptions ; Illustrations ; Emotional Uses of the 
 Falling Inflections : (i) In Sentences expressing Strong Conviction or Solemn 
 Affirmation; Illustrations; (2) In Sentences that express Command or 
 Authority; Illustrations; (3) Where Sentences express Hatrel, Anger, &c. ; 
 Illustrations — Use of the Staccato ; Illustrations — Climax, how best Rendered ; 
 Illustrations — subdued Inflections or Monotone — Uses of the Monotone — 
 When Passages are characterised by Awe or Solemnity ; Illustrations. . . 146 
 
 LECTURE XL ' 
 
 Compound Inflections or Circumflexes — Theory of their Formation — Rising and 
 Falling Circumflexes — Their uses in suggesting Antithesis — Illustrations — 
 Principles of their Application where the Antithesis is expressed — Illustrations 
 — Uses of the Circumflexes in regard to Emotional Expression — Principles that 
 govern their Application — Illustrations — Analysis of the Range of the Inflec- 
 tions in the Musical Scale — Results. . . . . . . . • ^73 
 
 LECTURE XII. 
 
 Modulation of the Human Voice — Explanation of the term Modulation, when 
 used in reference to Reading and Speaking — The views of Walker, Sheridan, 
 and Bell — The Rev. G. Sandlands on a mode of developing the Sense of 
 Modulation in Speech — Illustrations of Diff'erent Keys in Modulation — General 
 Rules for the Modulation of the Voice. ..... 189 
 
 LECTURE XIII. 
 
 Imitative Modulation — What is meant by it — Views of Lord Kames in reference 
 to Imitative Modulation — Illustrations — Time in Reading and Speaking, and 
 its Varieties — Slow, Medium, and Quick Time -General Suggestions — 
 Illustrations for Practice. . . . . . . .212 
 
 LECTURE XIV. 
 
 Elocution considered as a Science — Mr. Thelwall's Opinions — The Knowledge 
 of Human Nature and the Philosophy of Mind — The Theory of the Poise — 
 Ancient and Modern Authorities on the Poise of the Voice in Reading and 
 Speaking — Steele's " Prosodia Rationalis" — The Laws of Quantity — The 
 Proper Observance of the Poise essential to good Reading and Speaking — 
 Special Function of the Larynx in reference to Poise — Neglect of the 
 Observance of Poise a frequent Source of Stammering and Stuttering — Tlie 
 Laws of Rhythm — Pauses — Rhetorical words — Mr. Herbert Spencer's Views 
 on Rhythm. ......... 226 
 
 LECTURE XV. 
 
 Emphasis — Definition of the term — Its use and abuse— Illustiations — Varying 
 Degrees of Emphasis — Selections for Practice — The use of the Elements of 
 the Forte and Piano in Elocution, and tlieir varying Degrees — Selections 
 for Practice — The Siiir in Elocution — Its uses— Illustrations for Practice — 
 Punctuation, Grammatical and Rhetorical — General Rules for Rhetorical 
 Punctuation — Various requisites in good Delivery — Expression, Attitude,
 
 xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Gesture — Orators of Antiquity — Plutarch's Anecdotes of Demosthenes and 
 Cicero — Suggestions in reference to Attitude and Gesture in Public Speaking 
 — Mistakes to be avoided — Quinctiiian on Gesture — Mr. Smart's Classification 
 of Gesture — Erasmus Darwin on the Expression of the Emotions. . . 251 
 
 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 The Expression of the Emotions by the Human Countenance — Quinctilian's 
 remarks on the Head and Face generally — Diagrams of the Muscles of the 
 Face from Sir Charles Bell's work and Ilenle's "Anatomic des Menschen" 
 — The Forehead — The Eyes — Remarks of Dr. Austin— Buffon's description of 
 the Eyes and their Power of Expression — Engel's views on this Subject — 
 Delsarte's opinions in regard to the Eyes — Letter from Mr. Darwin on the 
 question — The Eyebrows and Eyelids as Adjuncts in Expression — Quinctilian's 
 Observations — The Nostrils — The Mouth and Lips — Quotation Irom Buffon 
 and Dr. Austin — The Functions of the Mouth and Lips in the Expression of 
 the Emotions. ......... 285 
 
 LECTURE XVH. 
 
 Erasmus Darwin's Theory of the Mode in which we become acquainted with 
 the Emotions of others — Opinion of Edmund Burke — Views of the Tragedian, 
 Betterton — Expression of the various Emotions : Joy, Pleasure, Cheerfulness, 
 Love, Affection, Sympathy, Pity, Devotion, Veneration, Gravity, Seriousness, 
 Perplexity, Attention, Surprise, Wonder, Amazement, Admiration, Appeal, 
 Persuasion, Hope, Desire, Tranquillity, Acquiescence, Negation, Raillery, 
 Irony, Anxiety, Dejection, Grief, Misery, Despair, Fear, Terror, Horror, 
 Meditation, Abstraction, Reverie, Vexation, Ill-Temper, Determination, 
 Shame — Views of Dr. Burgh, Sir C. Bell, and Mr. Darwin. . . . 295 
 
 LECTURE XVIII. 
 
 The Subject of the Expression of the Emotions continued — Guilt — Remorse — 
 Craft — Slyness — Pride — Courage — Helplessness — 01)Stinacy — Resignation — 
 Indignation — Anger — Hatred — Rage — Jealousy — Contempt — Disdain — Scorn 
 • — Disgust — Conclusion of the Analysis of the Human Emotions. . . 30S 
 
 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 Hindrances to Fluency of Speech — Dr. Hunt — Dr. Abbotts — Stammering and 
 Stuttering — Definition of each of these Impediments — Various Causes of 
 Stammering and Stuttering— Otlier Varieties of Defective Articulation — 
 Means by which all Impediments of Speech may be removed — Special Direc- 
 tions for the Self-cure of Stammering and Stuttering, and the Correction 
 of all Imperfect and Defective Articulation. ..... 315 
 
 SUPPLEMENT TO LECTURE XIX. 
 
 The Functions of the Vocal and Speech Organs in the formation of all the 
 various letters of the English alphabet, singly and in combination — Full Tables 
 of Exercises for Practice, as applicable to Stammerers, Stutterers, and ail 
 Persons suffering from any kind of Defective or Imperfect Articulation. . 330 
 
 LECTURE XX. 
 
 Public Reading generally — Rt'suinJ of former directions in regard to Attitude, 
 Management of the Breath, &c., as applicable specially to Reading Aloud — 
 Common mistakes pointed out that should be avoided — Various kinds of
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 PAUB 
 
 Reading — How Poetry should be read — Ordinary faults in reading Poetry — Tlie 
 monotonous and the " sing-song " styles — How to be Corrected — Reading of the 
 Bible — How it ought to be read — Reading the Cliurch Services and Prayers 
 — Prose Readings generally — Dramatic Reading — Use of Referential Gesture. 347 
 
 LECTURE XXI. 
 
 Public Speaking — Principal requisites of Extempore Speaking — The Art of 
 Composition — Arrangement of Thoughts and Language — Process of Analysis 
 — Attention and Association — Dangersof delivering written Speeches ///^///c/V/dfr 
 — Suggestions in reference to the arc of Extempore Speaking — Tlie Exordium, 
 or introduction of a Speech — The principal Subject-matter of a S]ieech — 
 Varieties of mode of treatment — Purity of language — Perspicuity — The Perora- 
 tion, or conclusion of a speech — The time when to close a Speech, and how 
 best to end it. . . . . . . . . . 357 
 
 LECTURE XXH. 
 
 Tlie Subject of Public Speaking and Reading considered in detail, and in 
 reference especially to the various Professions where it is moie particularly 
 required — The Clergyman — The Church Services — The Art of Preacliing — 
 Construction of a Sermon — Thoughts — Sources of Information — Four principal 
 modes of Sermon Construction^ — Tlie Narrative — The Textual — The Logical 
 — The Divisional — The Delivery of a Sermon — Delivery as Important in its 
 Immediate I'Tfccts as Composition — Styles of Preacliing in other Countries — 
 Suggestions in reference to the Delivery of Sermons — Proper use of Gesture in 
 the Pulpit. ......... "^d^, 
 
 LECTURE XXIIL 
 
 Public Speaking as regards the professional duties of the Barrister or Advocate 
 — Addressing Juries — Common Juries and Special Juries — Addressing the 
 Court — Arguing in Banco — Suggestions in reference to the Preparation of Legal 
 Arguments— The Senate — Speaking in Parliament— Business Speeches — 
 Orations — ^Mr. Gladstone's Opinions on the Training best adapted to form 
 good Speakers — Opening Speech on a Motion of Importance — The Debate — - 
 The Reply — Speeches at Elections — Open-air Speaking generally — Injurious 
 I'lffects often felt by Untrained Speakers — How to Speak in tlie Open-air 
 audibly, distinctly, and with comparative personal ease and comfort. . . 402 
 
 LECTURE XXIV. 
 
 The Vocation of Lecturing — Various Classifications — Educational Lectures 
 generally — Professional, Technical, Literary, and Scientific Lectures — Sugges- 
 tions to Lecturers — Hints on "Social Speech-making" — Public Festival and 
 Dinner Speeches — Duties of Chairman at Public Dinners — Proposing Toasts — 
 Loyal and Patriotic Toasts — "The Toast of the Evening" — Returning Thanks 
 — -Suggestions in Conclusion. . . . . . . .411 
 
 APPENDIX I. 
 
 Remarks on Orthoepy, and tlie rules laid done by various writers on Pronun- 
 ciation ; — I, The tendency of compound words to shorten the Vowel which is 
 long in the primitives. 2. The shortening tendency of the Antepenultimate 
 Accent. 3. The shortening tendency of the Secondary Accent. 4. The 
 shortening tendency of the past tense. 5. The power of w over the subsequent 
 vowel. 6. The aspirated hissing of /, d, s, z, x, and soft <*. 7. Faulty pro- 
 nunciation of aaeiited vowels. 8. Pronunciation of unaaented syllables. 9. 
 
 b
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Allowable fluctuation in the sound of some unaccented vowels and diphthongs, 
 lo. Faulty pronuncialion of unaccented vowels. II. Suppression of un- 
 accented vowels where they should be sounded ; and the opposite error — The 
 termination ed in the p.ast tense and paniciple. 12. The termination el. 13. 
 Tiie termination en. 14. The termination ?7, in. 15. The termination ou. 
 16. Suppressintj the vowel-sound in the termination lion and sion. 17. Sup- 
 pressing t when between two s''s, &c. 18. Suppressing h where it ought to be 
 sounded, and vice versa. 19. Suppressing h before 'w; also in shr% and in 
 the termination ih. 20. Sounding r too strongly or too feebly. 21. Sup- 
 pressing tlie sound of final consonants. 22. The terminational jig — Guidance 
 in pronunciation — Alphabetical list of words occurring in the Sacred Scriptures 
 and the Liturgy to be pronounced according lo the authority of \Yalker and 
 others. ... ...... 420 
 
 ALPHABETICAL LIST. 
 
 A IJst of Words, occurring in the Scriptures, to be pronounced according to the 
 Authority of Walker and later Writers. ..... 434 
 
 APPENDIX II. 
 
 l^ord Brougham's letter of advice — Lord Stanley's speech at University College — 
 Lord Stanhope's speech at Aberdeen — "The Bishop's, the Clergj-, and the 
 People" — Frasers magazine — Contemporary orators — "A Few Woriis about 
 Sermons " — Comhill AJagazine — '' On Clerg}-man's .Sore-Throat " — Voices — 
 Pitlpit Oratory — Musical Society of London — A Movable Mddel of the Lamyx 
 — The Piionograph and the Microphone — The Telephone — The Edison Tele- 
 phone — The Edison Telephone in London — The Origin of Language — Future 
 of the English Stage — A French actor's view of the English Stage and 
 English Elocution ........ 440 
 
 Note to Lecture VI. . . . ... . . . 4^0
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. .... frOlllispiccc 
 
 1. THORAX. ......... 37 
 
 2. LUNGS AND HEART. . . . . . . . -39 
 
 3. EXTERNAL A^IEW OF LARYNX, TRACHEA, AND THYROID GI.ANI). • . 45 
 
 4. LATERAL VIEW OF LARYNX. . . . . . .46 
 
 5. INTERNAL VIEW OF LARYNX. . . . . . -47 
 
 6. VOCAL CORDS IN A STATE OF REPOSE AND SILENCE. . . -49 
 
 7. VOCAL CORDS IN THE ACT OF PRODUCING VOICE. . . -SO 
 
 8. VOCAL CORDS IN THE ACT OF PRODUCING THE FALSETTO. . . 52 
 
 9. MEDIAN SECTION OF THE HEAD. . . . . . -54 
 
 10. ) ILLUSTRATIONS OF MODES OF RESPIRATION IN MALE AND FEMALE . 62 
 
 11. j FIGURES. ........ 62 
 
 12. AIR-PASSAGES OF NOSTRILS. . . . . . -75 
 
 13. HERR GEORGES' VOCAL WEDGE. . . . . . • '^l 
 
 14. siGNOR Lanza's illustrations of the position of the lips in 
 
 SINGING the solfeggio. . . . . . .88 
 
 15. JOSHUA STEELE'S SYSTEM OF NOTING THE MUSIC OF SPEECH. . .112 
 DR. rush's SYSTEM OF NOTATION OF SAME. • . , . I16 
 THE ABB^ THIBOUT'S SYSTEM OF NOTATION OF SAME. . . .117 
 
 16. GRAVE-ACUTE INFLECTION. . . . . . . -173 
 
 17. ACUTO-GRAVE INFLECTION. . . . • . ... 1 74 
 
 18. DIAGRAM OF THE MUSCLES OF THE FACE, FROM SIR C. BELL. . . 286 
 
 19. DIAGRAM FROM HENLE. ....... 286 
 
 20. DIAGRAM FROM HENLE. ....... 286 
 
 21. RIGHT ATTITUDE IN PUBLIC READING. ..... 349 
 
 22. WRONG ATTITUDE IN PUBLIC READING. ..... 349
 
 
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 KING'S COLLEGE 
 LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 LECTURE I. 
 
 Introduction — What is Elocution? — Definition — Reasons for the Cultivation of Elocution — 
 Answers to Objections — The Rev. E. Kirk — Extract from the Rev. J. B. IVIayor's 
 " Ethics of Ritual " — The Advantages to be gained from a knowledge of the Principles 
 of Elocution in regard to the various Professions, the Clergyman, the Barrister, cS:c. — 
 Claims of Elocution to rank as one of the Fine Arts — Professor J. Hullah — Importance 
 of the subject of Elocution generally— Authorities cited : John Stuart Mill, Dr. Guthrie, 
 Mr. C. Palmer, Dr. Channing, Joshua Steele's " Prosodia Rationalis," Sir Arthur 
 Helps, Rev. F. Trench, Lord G. Hamilton, Archbishop of York, Professor Seeley, 
 Professor F. W. Newman — Power, richness, and euphony of the English language — 
 Sanitary Advantages of Elocution — Quotation from Sir Henry Holland's " Medical 
 Notes " — Dr. George Beard — Summary. 
 
 HAVE invited you here this evening, in pursuance of the 
 course I have adopted ever since I have had the honour of 
 holding my present appointment in this College, to listen to 
 some introductory remarks in reference to the special work 
 intrusted to my charge in this department, and which I 
 have ventured to term " A Lecture on Elocution, considered in reference 
 to Public and Social Life." 
 
 The great German philosopher, Wilhelm von Humboldt, who has 
 been so justly termed the father of Comparative Philology, in discuss- 
 ing the subject of language generally, says' : " We must exclude from 
 the definition of language everything but actual speakitig. .... 
 The essence of language lies in the living utterance — in that which does 
 not suffer itself to be apprehended in the sundered elements of written 
 words. . . . It is only by the spoken word that the speaker breathes, 
 as it were, his own life into the souls of his hearers. . . . Written 
 language is only an imperfect and mummy-like embalming, of which the 
 highest use is that it may serve as a means of reproducing the living 
 utterance." And more recently the late Rev. Canon Kingsley, in one 
 of his delightful essays, begins it with the remark that : " To the minute 
 philosopher few things seem more miraculous than human speech."
 
 3 KJNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 Let the assertions, then, of the philosopher and the divine serve as 
 the text for the discourse which I propose offering you this evening, on 
 the importance of cultivating, to the utmost of our ability, those facul- 
 ties of the mind and those organs of the body which, in their just com- 
 bination of action and in their highest order of development, constitute 
 the accomplished speaker or reader, or, in other words, the science and 
 art of Elocution. Let me endeavour to show you why Elocution should 
 form a part of our education — not only as regards the effects to be pro- 
 duced on others, when we read or speak, but as regards its reflex advan- 
 tages on ourselves, not merely mentally, but physically. Let me support 
 my various assertions, and the propositions I hope to establish to your 
 satisfaction, by the testimony of authorities of the highest order, and 
 against whom no possible suspicion can exist of havmg any personal 
 interest to serve. Let me try, at least, fairly to examine and answer 
 some of the principal objections which have, from time to time, been 
 brought against the study of Elocution by persons who, I think, have 
 not maturely considered what true Elocution really is, and have con- 
 founded two things we are but too apt to confuse in our progress through 
 life — viz., abuse with use. 
 
 This, then, is the outline of the course I propose taking this evening ; 
 and to which, without further preface, I now solicit your kind attention. 
 
 It is well, in all discussions, that we should start, if possible, with 
 clear definitions of our subjects, and that our terms should be accur- 
 ately defined. My subject then, to-night, is Elocution, and the two 
 aspects under which I propose to regard it are — (i) In reference to 
 Public, and (2) In regard to Social Life. 
 
 Let me take these, then, in their due order. What do I mean by 
 Elocution ? Suppose I answer this question first of all in a somewhat 
 negative fashion, and tell you what I do not mean whenever I have occa- 
 sion to make use of this much-abused word — Elocution. I do not 
 mean, then, anything pompous, stilted, bombastic, or '■^stagey." I do not 
 mean anything pedantic, stiff, formal, or unnatural. If Elocution either 
 meant, or, properly understood and rightly taught, tended to anything 
 of the kind, I should be the very last to say one word on its behalf, 
 either here or elsewhere.. 
 
 So much, then, for the negative portion of my answer ; and now let 
 me try to give you the affirmative. If you ask me to define what it is 
 I do mean by Elocution, I think I should reply somewhat in the follow- 
 ing manner : — I should say, first of all, it is the perfectly audible, distinct, 
 pure, and effective pronunciation which is given to words when they are 
 arranged into sentences, and form Avritten or extemporaneous composi- 
 tion, either in the shape of prose or poetry. Besides this purity of 
 intonation and clearness of articulation, I include under the term all 
 those appropriate inflections and modulations of the speaking voice ; the 
 due observance of the great physiological law of poise; the notation 
 of another element, scarcely less important, that of quantity ; proper 
 pauses, and right discrimination in degrees of emphasis, all of which are 
 requisite in order to render delivery most effective in its results, not only 
 as regards the judgment and intellect, but the feehngs and emotions of
 
 Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 3 
 
 those whom we address. Nor does my definition stop here ; for I 
 include, moreover, when suitable to the occasion, all the ever-varying 
 accompaniments of the human countenance and figure — the manifold 
 play of feature, attitude, and gesture. And I do so, because Nature has 
 a language unspoken as well as spoken, and the flash of indignation 
 from the eye, the frown of anger on the brow, the lip smiling with 
 pleasure, or curled in scorn and contempt — nay, the simple raising of a 
 hand in appeal or in deprecation will often convey the particular passion 
 or emotion of the moment as eloquently as any words can do, however 
 aptly chosen. Thus, then, you will see that under my definition of 
 Elocution, I mean a delivery which not only expresses fully the gram- 
 matical or logical sense of all the words employed, so as to be thoroughly 
 heard, understood, and felt by the hearer, but, at the same time, gives 
 the whole sentence which such words compose all the power, beauty, 
 grace, and melody of which its form of construction is capable. And 
 last, though not least, in the elements of my definition is the knowledge 
 of the means by which all this may be done with personal ease, freedom, 
 and self-possession on the part of the speaker or reader, when he is made 
 acquainted with the physiology and proper use of the respiratory, vocal, 
 and speech organs in their due co-ordination of action. 
 
 This, then, is my ideal of Elocution ; a high one, I confess. But it 
 is well, in all that is deserving of study, whether in the world of art, 
 science, or ethics, to keep a high ideal before us ; to which let us strive 
 our utmost to approximate, even though that ideal we may never hope 
 actually to attain. That Elocution, then, is an art which requires much 
 study to develop it in all its full power and beauty, even when Nature 
 has been liberal in bestowing a fine and flexible voice and quickness of 
 • appreciation in matters of taste and sympathy of feehng, will, I think, 
 be conceded without much hesitation. This being conceded, we come 
 now to the all-important question — Are we sufficiently rewarded for all 
 the time, thought, and study we may give to the acquisition of this art ? 
 Are we sufficiently requited for all the pains we may bestow in becom- 
 ing thoroughly acquainted with its theory, and then carrying out and 
 developing that theory in practice ? I think we are, both in regard to 
 public and social life. Let me glance, first, at those spheres of life 
 which we may term public, and under which head I would take, as 
 illustrations, the minister of religion generally, without reference to any 
 particular church or creed ; the advocate in our courts of law; and the 
 speakers in our Houses of Parhament and at public meetings. All these 
 so far resemble each other in their vocation that their aim is, when 
 engaged in their professional or public duties, to convince the judgment 
 of their hearers of the truth or soundness of the views which the speaker 
 is enforcing, or else to persuade them to a certain course of conduct or 
 action. The minister of religion, moreover, has, by the mode in which 
 his more specially sacred functions are performed, to endeavour to 
 excite, to the fullest degree, the devotional feelings of his congregation. 
 And through what channel are all these desired ends and aims to be 
 attained ? Through 7c>ords spoken by the living luiman voice, with all its 
 marvellous sympathetic powers of intonation, inflection, and modulation.
 
 4 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 enforced as far as possible by the expression of the countenance and 
 gesture. 
 
 Let me venture to quote a few passages — not from any professional 
 writer on, or teacher of, Elocution (for that, as I said at first, I shall 
 avoid doing as much as possible), but from an article lately published 
 by an eminent American divine (the Rev. E. Kirk, of Boston), " On the 
 Preparation required for the Public Duties of the Ministry," which is not 
 less applicable to the subject, I think, in England than in America : — 
 
 " It is easy to recognise the difference between a speaker who is 
 agreeable and one who is disagreeable ; between one who is powerful 
 and another who is feeble. Nor can any one entertain a doubt whether 
 the difference is not just as obvious in the pulpit as in the senate, forum, 
 or on the public platform. Every preacher, I should think, would desire 
 so to deliver his sermon as that his meaning should be clearly perceived, 
 and his sentiments deeply felt, rather than to utter it in a manner unin- 
 telligible and unimpressive. Every congregation of worshippers would 
 prefer in their pastor a good delivery to an awkward and disagreeable 
 style of speaking. Let two men of equal piety and scholarship be pre- 
 sented to any of our religious societies, the one a man of easy, becom- 
 ing carriage in the pulpit, of apparently simple, natural, and powerful 
 utterance ; the other uncouth in attitude and movement, indistinct and 
 stammering in his enunciation, and wearisome in his drawling tones. 
 Can any man in his senses doubt which of the two would be chosen ? 
 No ! Thus far the case is plain. But if we go back from this, and 
 observe this finished speaker practising in the detail of his studies and 
 vocal exercises, there we shall find some demurring. Many who admire 
 the orator are averse to the process of discipline which gave him the 
 better style. There is, in other words, a prejudice in the community,- 
 and among many excellent candidates for the ministry, in regard to Elo- 
 cution as an art to be obtained by study and practice. This prejudice 
 is worthy of a candid examination and an earnest effort to remove 
 it. In the minds of some, the study and practice of Elocution is con- 
 nected, if not identified, with the idea of substituting sound and emotion 
 for sense and truth. To such persons it may be suggested that there is 
 no necessity for this substitution. The importance of Elocution pre- 
 supposes the importance of other things ; and for men who are morally 
 and intellectually qualified to act as preachers, the importance of effective 
 delivery and manner can scarcely be overrated. To overlook it is a 
 proof neither of piety, dignity, nor wisdom. If there were some ethereal 
 way of communicating with the mind, if the process of preaching were 
 designed to be mesmeric, and people were to be put to sleep, instead of 
 being aroused, in order to instruct and impress them, we might dispense 
 with Elocution and the culture it requires. But so long as men are in 
 the body, it will be found requisite for the most effective exercise of the 
 ministry that a part of clerical education consists in the study and prac- 
 tice of Elocution. That necessity is founded on these two facts — that 
 the communication of thought and feeUng depends upon the right 
 exercise of our bodily organs ; and that those organs are within the 
 domain of that great law which requires the cultivation of the faculties. 
 
 i^
 
 Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. S 
 
 It is not sufficient for the purposes of electrical power that the battery 
 be fully charged : a good conductor must be added. Alas ! how much 
 of the preaching to which we have to listen is of the class of non-con- 
 ductors ! In the minds of others, again, Elocution is identified with an 
 ostentatious exhibition of the graces and the accomplishments of the 
 speaker. But this is confounding the use with the abuse of a good 
 thing. Since it is a man who is to be heard and seen, and since there 
 is but one right way of speaking or reading .aloud, while there are a 
 thousand turong ways, the man will do well to learn the right way. And 
 if the agreeable impression produced by an agreeable voice, manner, 
 and person can conduce to the right impression of truth, the very 
 purity of his desire to do good should induce him to cultivate voice, 
 manner, and person. There is nothing in the study of Elocution, 
 rightly understood and practised, that need awaken personal vanity. 
 Nor is there any more inducement for an eloquent man to display all 
 the means by which he acquired the power of commanding the sympa- 
 thies and interest of his audience, than there is for a learned man to 
 parade all his learning, or to become a mere pedant. Others fear that 
 they shall be tempted to turn their chief attention in the pulpit to tones 
 and gestures, and thus degrade their high vocation. This, again, is no 
 necessary consequence, and \vould be simply a perversion of the art. 
 The greatest orator, in an extemporaneous address, pays strict attention 
 to the minutest rules of grammar, but there is no interruption in all this 
 to the concentrated action of his understanding ; no extinction to the 
 iiery current of his feeling. The rules of Elocution are designed to form 
 the man, to correct the bad habits of attitude, speech, and gesture, and 
 to make the voice, countenance, and body in every way fit instruments 
 for a mind full of noble thoughts and powerful emotions." 
 
 There is one objection more to which I turn, and which I hope to 
 answer, and then I proceed to a different part of my subject. You may 
 have heard well-meaning persons, but who cannot, I think, have 
 maturely considered the matter, object to the resources of the art of Elo- 
 cution (which, after all, means only the aggregate of all that constitutes 
 a good delivery) being introduced into the reading-desk and pulpit, and 
 say that it savours of irreverence to privately rehearse, over and over 
 again, public prayers addressed to the Deity, or to read the lessons from 
 the Bible, with all the rules of Elocution so fully carried out, that the 
 standard which has been set up for the right performance of their various 
 ministerial functions shall be satisfied ; and that to study the most effec- 
 tive manner in which a sermon can be delivered, as a great tragedian 
 would study the part he has to perform, is to reduce the high calling of 
 the preacher to an unworthy level. Now, in answer to this, let me, in 
 the first place, ask — How is the singing of hymns and anthems managed 
 in our cathedrals, churches, and chapels ? Is their conducting left to 
 persons wholly unskilled in the art of vocal music ? Do not organists 
 and choristers meet and practise, and rehearse, over and over again, the 
 anthems, psalms, and hymns they have to sing, until all is thought of 
 sufficient excellence to be played and sung in public Worship ? Why ? 
 I presume for one reason, to warm and excite, as much as possible, the
 
 6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 devotional feelings of the congregation. Now, then, I ask, are psalms, 
 hymns, and anthems less direct appeals to God than the prayers in our 
 Liturgy ; and do not all claim to be parts of divine service ? I answer, 
 What is not thought to be waste of time nor irreverence in the one case, 
 is equally neither waste of time nor irreverence in the other. 
 
 In the "Contemporary Review," for the month of October 1872, in 
 a very scholarly article, entitled " The Ethics of Ritual," by the Rev. J. 
 B. Mayor, you will find this passage, which I think very applicable to 
 ray subject : — 
 
 "The readings from the Bible, when we pass beyond those narrative 
 passages, which can never be wholly without interest, even for the least 
 awakened mind, call for much thought and much knowledge to under- 
 stand their general drift. ... If we have fallen into the habit (so 
 much fostered by our sermons) of looking upon each text merely as a peg 
 on which to hang a meditation, without reference to the context, or the 
 readers to whom it was primarily addressed, ' the Word ' will be no light 
 to our eyes or guide to our feet ; we shall simply see our own fancies 
 reflected everywhere. There is no learning — no advance. Much may 
 be done by an intelligent reader to enforce the meaning of what he reads 
 by variation of tone, and pause, and emphasis. Such semi-dramatic 
 reading seems to us to be almost essential, if the minds of the unedu- 
 cated are to be reached ; and for their sakes, at any rate, we much regret 
 the prevalent use of the monotone in reading the lessons in ritualistic 
 churches." 
 
 To read the Liturgy and to preach a sermon well is an art that 
 requires just as much to be studied and practised, as the singing of 
 hymns and anthems is an art that requires proper training and cultiva- 
 tion. If we are to have public worship at all, I say every part of 
 it should be made as excellent as possible, and no part of it be in any 
 way neglected. 
 
 And now I glance very briefly — for my time is limited, and I have 
 other topics on which I desire to touch before I finish my remarks — at 
 the professions of the advocate, the lecturer, and public speakers gene- 
 rally. I am perfectly well aware that anything like grandiloquence, 
 declamation, poetical flights, and rhetorical appeals are quite alien to our 
 present national character. Modern taste and general tone of thought 
 and feeling in our English courts of justice are utterly opposed to all 
 useless declamatory froth and mere rhetorical display. And certainly 
 it is only comparatively rarely that the circumstances of a case afford 
 any just ground for what would be termed the higher flights of eloquence, 
 and in the present day perspicuity of language and earnestness of 
 manner are, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the chief requisites 
 of an advocate, as well as of public speakers generally. Still, the barris- 
 ter is not always arguing dry, abstruse, and intricate points of law before 
 courts of equity, or judges sitting in Batico; and in one branch of it, at 
 least, he will have to address juries drawn from many grades of society 
 in the metropolis, as well as at assizes and sessions, with whom, I am 
 disposed to think', a p07i.<erfid delivery and earnest maimer have, to say 
 the least, a very strong influence.
 
 Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 7 
 
 Well, what advantages will the advocate, lecturer, or public speaker 
 derive from a knowledge of Elocution ? I can answer these, at any rate. 
 He will learn the mode in which the speaking voice is formed, so as to 
 fill easily the whole area of the court or hall in which his duties have to 
 be performed ; he will learn the secret of combining distinctness with 
 audibility, so that nothing shall be lost of what he has to say to his 
 hearers ; and he will acquire the means of delivering the most important 
 words and passages in the most effective manner. He will obtain, too, 
 such a mastery and power of discipline over his voice as to be able to 
 control it, from the loudest tone down to little more than a mere whis- 
 per, and be able to properly inflect and modulate it, according to the 
 results he wishes to produce upon his hearers. These are, I think, no 
 small advantages as regards others ; but are there any more selfish bene- 
 fits which a knowledge of Elocution will confer upon the public speaker 
 or reader himself? There are, most undoubtedly. It cannot be too 
 strongly insisted upon that there is a ivro7ig, as well as a right, way of 
 using the vocal and speech organs in all public speaking and reading. 
 If there is a way of diminishing the exhaustion and lessening the sense of 
 fatigue after speaking or reading in public ; if there is a way of preventing 
 altogether some of the much complained of disastrous physical effects 
 of public speaking and reading, surely a wise and prudent man will not 
 think the matter beneath his notice. By the disastrous effects, I mean 
 the malady commonly known as "clerical sore throat," and kindred 
 diseases, which result from a disarrangement of the functions of the 
 throat and chest. It cannot be too strongly urged that there is a mode 
 of employing the vocal organs in the larynx which most needlessly and 
 seriously inflames the membrane that lines the throat, and the delicate 
 structure of the bronchial tubes ; and uselessly wastes the general nervous 
 energy of the system. All this could be entirely avoided by learning to 
 use the various organs of voice and speech in their right sequence of 
 action, so that proper respiration, vocal utterance, and the law oi poise 
 be all duly and harmoniously carried on. Then an hour's speaking or 
 reading aloud will be, not a fatigue for the body, but merely a healthy 
 and beneficial exercise. Is this any exaggeration ? I have the testi- 
 mony afforded by the experience of many pubHc speakers and preachers, 
 who, by proper exercises, have entirely recovered the use of the vocal 
 powers they had lost, and have acquired the power of speaking or 
 preaching with an ease to which they were previously entire strangers. 
 Let me content myself with only one, a clergyman (the Rev. Ch. 
 Butcher), who kindly permits me to quote his words, and who says : " I 
 assure you, I formerly felt more fatigued after reading the Litany in a 
 small country church than I do now after taking three full services in the 
 large church of St. Clement Danes, Strand, in every part of which I 
 am told that I am distinctly heard." * There can be no doubt (to use the 
 
 * The same clergyman, now the Dean of the catliedral at Shanghai, China, in a 
 letter I have received from him dated from the Ciiaplaincy, Shanghai, August i8th, 
 1873, says : "I am sure Elocution is the healthiest thing in the world. I have an 
 immense church, and three services a day— and this with the thermometer at 90° for 
 three months of the year — and yet I am never ill, or sensible of fatigue."
 
 8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 words of Professor M'llvaine, of New York) that those wasting throat 
 diseases, with which clergymen are afflicted more than any other class 
 of public speakers, are traceable physiologically to bad management of 
 the voice, to the violation of those laws which nature has prescribed — 
 laws which, like all others established by the God of nature, can never 
 be violated with impunity. This view is confirmed by the fact, to which 
 many can bear witness, that no more effectual remedy for those diseases 
 has been discovered than a course of sound Elocutionary training. 
 
 Now, then, I come to another division of my subject. I have to 
 regard Elocution, as I have defined it, in its relationship to social life. I 
 contend that, when properly understood and practised, it is worthy of 
 taking rank as one of the fine arts. Rather a bold proposition, it may 
 be said. Well, let me ask, what are the fine arts? You will answer, 
 doubtless, music, vocal and instrumental, the dramatic art, painting, 
 drawing, sculpture, architecture in its highest forms, &c. Yes, but why 
 do you call these arts fine arts ? I suppose you will answer somewhat 
 after this manner : " We call them^^^' arts, because they are all of them 
 arts that give beauty and grace to civilised life ; or they are arts which 
 combine, in a high degree, the gratification of pure and refined taste, 
 with the exercise of an enlightened intellect and an exalted imagination.'' 
 If this is a true definition of the fine arts (and none, I fancy, will ques- 
 tion it), then I think that Elocution as shown, not in the elaborate and 
 impassioned speech of the great statesman, advocate, or divine, but in 
 a much humbler and more ordinary form, may be ranked in the same 
 category. Let me take the instance of some simple, though beautiful 
 poem, read aloud in the family or social circle; and then, if it has been 
 rendered with purity of intonation, and all those proper inflections and • 
 modulations of the voice, together with due discrimination in emphasis, 
 and all the other elements requisite to convey the true meaning and 
 expression, let me ask whether it is not one of those arts which impart a 
 charm to social intercourse, and lend a grace to ordinary life — in a word, 
 whether it is not one of the fine arts ? 
 
 When all the requisites that form a really good reader are taken 
 into consideration, I think we may well wonder, not so much that the 
 accomplishment is far too generally neglected, but that it does not form, 
 with all who look upon education in its true light and meaning, the 
 df-awing out of all our best faculties, an important means in early — nay, 
 in all stages of life, as well as in all classes of society, for refining and 
 elevating the mind, for cultivating the sympathies, and for quickening 
 and developing those habits of perception and appreciation of the 
 beautiful in a/i arts, which, when once acquired, generally endure 
 throughout life, and are so precious in themselves, and so valuable to 
 us and our fellow-creatures. 
 
 One of the greatest thinkers of our age, whose loss is felt to be more 
 than a national calamity — for it is a loss, indeed, to the philosophy of 
 the civilised world, I mean John Stuart Mill — thus, in his autobiography 
 just published, speaks of Elocution : — 
 
 "In going through Plato and Demosthenes, since I could now read 
 these authors, as far as the language was concerned, with perfect ease, I
 
 Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION, 9 
 
 was not required to construe them sentence by sentence, but to read 
 them aloud to my father, answering questions when asked ; but the 
 particular attention which he paid to Elocuiioti (in which his own excel- 
 lence was remarkable) made this reading aloud to him a most painful 
 task. Of all things which he required me to do, there was none which 
 I did so constantly ill, or in which he so perpetually lost his temper with 
 me. He had thought much on the principles of the art of reading, 
 especially the most neglected parts of it, the inflections and modulations 
 of the voice, as writers on Elocution call them (in contrast with articula- 
 tion on the one side, and expression on the other), and had reduced it to 
 rules, grounded on the logical analysis of a sentence. These rules he 
 strongly impressed upon me, and took me severely to task for every 
 violation of them ; but I even then remarked (though I did not venture 
 to make the remark to him) that, though he reproached me when I read 
 a sentence ill, he never, by reading it himself, showed me how it ought 
 to be read. A defect running through his otherwise admirable modes 
 of instruction, as it did through all his modes of thought, was that of 
 trusting too much to the intelligibleness of the abstract, when not 
 embodied in the concrete. It was at a much later period of my youth, 
 when practising Elocution by myself, or with companions of my own age, 
 that I, for the first time, understood the object of his rules, and saw the 
 psychological ground of them. At that time, I and others followed out 
 the subject into its ramifications, and could have composed a very useful 
 treatise, grounded on my father's principles. He himself left those 
 principles and rules unwritten. I regret that when my mind was full 
 of the subject, from systematic practice, I did not put them, and our 
 improvements of them, into a formal shape.''* 
 
 So also the excellent and eloquent Scotch divine, who has so lately 
 passed away from us, Dr. Guthrie, in his autobiography just published, 
 thus expresses his opinion of the importance of the art of Elocution, and ' 
 the importance he attached to its acquisition : — 
 
 " I had, when a student in divinity, paid more than ordinary attention 
 to the art of Elocution, knowing how much of the effect produced on the 
 audience depended on the manner as well as the matter ; that, in point 
 of fact, the manner is to the matter as the powder is to the ball. I had 
 attended Elocution classes winter after winter, walking across half the 
 city and more, after eight o'clock at night, fair night and foul, and not 
 getting back to my lodgings till about half-past ten. There I learned to 
 find out and correct many acquired and more or less awkward defects in 
 gesture — to be, in fact, natural ; to acquire a command over my voice so 
 as to suit its force and emphasis to the sense, and to modulate it so as 
 to express the feelings, whether of surprise or grief, indignation or pity. 
 I had heard very indifferent discourses made forcible by a vigorous, and 
 able ones reduced to feebleness by a poor, pithless delivery. I had 
 read of the extraordinary pains Demosthenes and Cicero took to cultivate 
 their manner and become masters of the arts of Elocution ; and I knew 
 how, by a masterly and natural use of these, Whitfield could sway the 
 crowds that gathered to hear him at early morn on the commons of 
 * Autobiography of John Stuart Mill, pp. 23, 24.
 
 lO KIXG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 London as a breeze does the standing corn, making men at his pleasure 
 weep or laugh by the way he pronounced ' Mesopotamia.' Many have 
 supposed that I owe any power I have of modulating my voice, and 
 giving effect thereby to what I am delivering, to a musical ear. On the 
 contrary, I am, as they say in Scotland, ' timmer tuned ' — have not the 
 vestige even of the musical faculty, never knowing when people go off 
 the tune but when they stick ! " Again, in a rare and curious old 4to 
 volume in my possession, entitled " Aphorisms and Maxims," by Charles 
 Palmer, Deputy-Sergeant to the House of Commons (1758), I find it 
 stated at p. 15, that " delivery is the very life and soul of all eloquence; 
 and it is of such peculiar importance, that none can neglect it without 
 abandoning its greatest strength and beauty, and that which contributes 
 so largely to its force, and composes most of the graces that belong to it. 
 The art of oratory is never so great and potent by the things that are 
 said, as by the manner of saying them ; its leading excellence consists 
 in the delivery, and by this it maintains its empire over the hearts of 
 men." 
 
 You will grant, I imagine, that the dramatic art, in its highest forms 
 and embodiments, is one of the fine arts. If it is so, let me strengthen 
 my position by the support given to my argument by that well-known 
 American divine, Dr. Channing. In discussing the drama and dramatic 
 amusements generally, he asks ''whether there is not a source of the 
 highest intellectual pleasure, having the closest possible approximation 
 to the drama, viz., recitation or reading aloud? To hear a work of 
 genius (he says) recited or read by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm, and 
 powers of Elocution, is a very high and pure gratification. Were this art 
 only more cultivated and encouraged amongst us, great numbers of 
 persons, now insensible to the most beautiful compositions, might be 
 awakened to their full excellence and power. It is not easy to conceive 
 a more effectual way of spreading a refined taste through a community. 
 Should this only be established among us successfully, the result would 
 be that the power of recitation would be more extensively called forth, 
 and this would be a most valuable addition to our social and domestic 
 pleasures."' 
 
 I might quote many other authorities, English as well as American, 
 but on this point I will content myself with but one more, a name 
 of high and well-deserved reputation. Professor John Hullah, of this 
 College. Mr. Hullah has recently published a most able little work 
 "On the Cultivation of the Speaking Voice,"' which I would strongly 
 recommend to any one who wishes to see how closely allied to the 
 music of speech is the music of song. Indeed, it would be diflicult to 
 draw the exact line of demarcation — if, indeed, there is one at all — 
 between the music of Elocution, as shown in the pure vocal tone, the 
 widely ranging and proper inflections and modulations of the voice in 
 the recitation of some grand or beautiful poem, and the music of song, 
 as shown in the powerful and expressive recitative of a Santley or Sims 
 Reeves in an oratorio by Handel or Haydn. It would be almost 
 impossible, I think, to say where the music of the one art ends and that 
 of the other begins. All the terms that are used in music are, in general,
 
 Lect. L] on elocution. ri 
 
 applicable to Elocution. Piano and forte, with their various degrees ; 
 crescendo and diminuendo, legato, sosteniito, and staccato ; time, atidante 
 and allegro, and their modifications ; the marks of emphasis, expression, 
 and a piacere or ad libitum — all these are terms of art which may be 
 applied as fitly to Elocution as to song. But can we go beyond this ? 
 Can the music of speech be noted, its inflections in the range which the 
 voice takes rising or falling in the musical scale be duly marked, the 
 duration of the vowel in the syllables of words or in monosyllabic words 
 rightly indicated ; can all this be done by external signs or technical 
 marks of indication? It can. But to go further than this, can the 
 music of speech, as shown in Elocution, be divided into bars — regular 
 and systematic bars — upon fixed and definite principles, as in the music 
 of song ? It can, and here is the proof. There lies before me on this 
 table a book more than a century old, of which I apprehend the majority 
 in this room have never seen the name or heard of the author. It is 
 entitled " Prosodia Rationalis," and the author is Joshua Steele. It is 
 an old book, a rare book, and a very learned book. As I open it and 
 show these pages to you, I imagine that any one on bestowing a mere 
 cursory glance at them would think I was showing him the score of 
 some song composed a hundred years ago. It is, indeed, a grand and 
 solemn theme to which these notes are set ; and how I wish I could 
 but hear them once more rendered by the great artist, whose recital of 
 them thrilled all hearts at our great National Theatre in 1772 ; for this 
 is Hamlet's famous soliloquy on death and immortaHty, as rendered (with 
 some slight variations suggested by the author of the work) by that greatest 
 of actors of the last century, David Garrick. Here you have all the 
 technical signs which indicate quantity, inflections, and modulation ; the 
 _poise which marks the bars, &c.; the very interpretation of the great 
 tragedian, noted from actual observation by Mr. Steele, handed down to 
 us, and rendered capable of being perpetuated for the instruction of 
 future generations. Time warns me that I must not dwell further on 
 this portion of my argument. To those who wish to make fuller investi- 
 gation into the subject, I would name particularly, in addition to the 
 authors to whom I have already referred, the great American work 
 written, " On the Voice," by the celebrated physician, tr. Rush; the 
 Abbe Thibout's work, entitled " Action Oratoire ; " and the treatise by 
 the late John Thelwall " On English Rhythmus," based avowedly on 
 Joshua Steele's system, as developed in his " Prosodia Rationalis." 
 
 But now in this place arises the question — Is there need for any such 
 instruction in Elocution ? Do we really want it at the present time ? 
 Let me, as an answer, give you a passage which you will find in a 
 charming volume of short essays published in 1875, by that original 
 thinker and accomplished writer the late Sir Arthur Helps, under the 
 title of " Brevia " :— 
 
 " How few men can talk distinctly and clearly ! With how many 
 persons, especially the young oi this generation, is their talk a something 
 which combines a lisp, a mutter, a mumble, and a moan ! How many 
 times in the course of a conversation amongst English people do you 
 not hear the question, ' What did you say ? ' Then, as to the reading —
 
 12 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 I put it to this intelligent company. Do you know amongst your 
 numerous friends and acquaintances ten persons who can read aloud 
 really 7vell? You are silent. Then, as to public speaking — how few 
 have attained to any proficiency in this art, which, however, is not a 
 very difficult art. It is a thousand pities there are not more proficients 
 in this art ; for if there were, it would not have so exorbitant a value put 
 upon it, and men who are proficient in it would not occupy so great a 
 position in the State as they do now. The man who can do a thing well 
 is, unfortunately, often now the last man who can speak about it in public 
 well, or even talk about it well." — Brevia, p, 145. 
 
 Sir Arthur Helps laments in these strong terms the prevalence of 
 inaudible, indistinct, and expressionless reading and speaking. But can 
 we wonder at it when, as a part of our regular education, it is so wholly 
 neglected. I am aware that during the last ten years the Elocution of the 
 English language has been much more made a subject of study and 
 ]3ractice at private schools of repute, for both sexes, than was formerly 
 the case. But still, at the present moment, there is no regular professor- 
 ship founded or endowed for giving instruction in the art at either of our 
 great universities ; and (as far as 1 can speak from my own experience) 
 the only public educational institutions, where lectures or courses of 
 instruction have been given in the art of reading and speaking our native 
 tongue properly and effectively, are this College, University College, 
 Wellington College, the City of London College, the Royal Naval School, 
 the Polytechnic, the Birkbeck, and the Quebec Institutions. As far as 
 I know, there is nothing of the kind at the present moment at Eton, 
 at Harrow, at Rugby, at Winchester, at Westminster, St. Paul's, the 
 Charterhouse, or Christ's Hospital. If I am wrong in this statement, 
 most gladly shall I receive the information that I am mistaken. Now, 
 then, what are the results of this neglect } I put the question, but, as 
 before, I would prefer that the answer should be given by another rather 
 than myself. Let it come, then, from the Rev. Francis Trench, who, in 
 a lecture delivered by him in London some time ago on " Good and 
 Bad Reading in Church, School, and Home," says : — 
 
 " I must confess I can recall nothing worse than ordinary school read- 
 ing and recitation (mark, I say ordinary, because I am well aware that 
 there are some exceptions), whether in the institutions for the rich or for 
 the poor in our land. Many amongst us can remember very well the 
 method in which we ourselves said our scholastic lessons in our former 
 days. Whether any improvement in this method has of late taken place, 
 I am unable to say. I trust that it may be so ; but at the public school 
 where I myself was, and one, too, not inferior in repute to any in the 
 land — I mean Harrow — the utmost attainable speed in recitation was 
 allowed, a false key and monotonous delivery of the worst kind was 
 never corrected or rebuked, no attempt whatever was made to render or 
 to keep the utterance in harmony with the sense ; and bad habits of 
 delivery were formed and allowed, in a manner almost too strange for 
 belief, and on which I can only now look back with exceeding surprise. 
 Nor do I conceive that the system was in the least better at other 
 schools. I cannot let them escape. For should the Etonian, the
 
 lect. I.] or^ elocution: 13 
 
 Winchester, Rugby, or Westminster man, or the representative of any 
 other public school, ask me what grounds I have for such a statement, 
 my answer to the challenge would be, that at college I had full means 
 and opportunity to judge from the reading of the students there. They 
 were gathered from all schools of distinction ; and to any one hearing 
 them, it was evident enough that the general delivery at other schools was 
 by no means superior to that which was allowed and which prevailed 
 at my own. A system, this, not only most objectionable and most 
 injurious at the time, even to a just impression of the sense of the passage 
 read, but also so lasting in its evil consequences, that many never are 
 emancipated or escape from them. I say this advisedly ; and even those 
 who do escape, often only escape after many years, and with no little 
 difficulty. Hence, I believe, originates much of the bad reading which 
 we hear in public worship. Hence, I beHeve, originates that monotonous 
 cadence and drawl, which is so adverse to the due expression by the 
 reader, and to the due comprehension by the hearer, of any passage read. 
 The ear may be lulled, but the mind is not reached ; at least, if reached, 
 it is reached in spite of the reader's bad tone and enunciation. And 
 here I quote the words of one who felt this evil very deeply, and laboured 
 very constantly for its removal, or, at least, its mitigation — the Rev. C. 
 Simeon. ' How often,' said he, ' are the prayers of the Church spoiled, 
 and good sermons rendered uninteresting by bad delivery on the part 
 of ministers ! ' " 
 
 Mr. Trench then proceeds to show in detail how the same lamentable 
 neglect of the art of reading aloud prevails equally in private schools, 
 from the highest to the lowest class, and calls attention to the fact that 
 €ven at the time when he was speaking, so glaring was the evil in our 
 national schools, that a circular letter had been sent from Her ]\Iajesty's 
 Board of the Privy Council to the various inspectors of schools, stating 
 that "complaints have been made to their lordships concerning the very 
 small degree of attention which reading (as part of Elocution) receives in 
 elementary schools," and making it imperative to include an exercise on 
 the art of reading in the oral part of the next Christmas examination at 
 the training-schools. Lord George Hamilton, in a speech delivered last 
 October, said : " There was one advantage in connection with a course 
 of scientific training not sufficiently dwelt upon. We might congratulate 
 ourselves that the English was a grand language, and a splendid vehicle 
 for the expression of ideas ; but the great majority of us did not speak 
 it in sufficient precision, and the House of Commons, in which he spent 
 a large portion of his time, was not an exception to this rule. Some 
 utterances delivered there, though dignified by the name of speeches, 
 were very slovenly and slatternly performances. There was a very remark- 
 able contrast between the speeches of the young men and the old men, 
 and the advantage was entirely with the preceding generation. Few of 
 them were sufficiently careful in selecting their words, and he who is to 
 be a successful teacher or student of science, must be an accurate worker, 
 and must be precise in the use of his words."* 
 
 Even now, as we have seen, there is no complaint more general than 
 * Lord G. Hamilton, October 8th, 1879.
 
 14 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect I. 
 
 the rarity of good readers, even in those professions and in those ranks 
 of society where better things might have been expected. About twelve 
 years ago, in consequence of a notification on the part of the late Bishop 
 of Rochester, that a certificate of competence as a reader would be re- 
 quired in the case of candidates for ordination in his lordship's diocese, 
 a general awakening to the importance of the subject seemed to take 
 place among clergy and laity, and for several weeks one could hardly take 
 up a newspaper, from the "Times" to the humblest provincial journal, 
 without seeing leading articles and letters on "Clerical Elocution." 
 
 But no adequate practical result of any substantial and permanent 
 nature followed from all these discussions. It was an illustration of the 
 old proverb, " Great cry, but little wool." Complaints teemed on all 
 sides, but there was little done to remedy the complaint. Several of the 
 bishops have, I know, from that time advised young curates and candi- 
 dates for orders to take a regular course of instruction in the art of public 
 reading, from those whom they thought were competent, from natural 
 qualifications, education, position, and experience, to teach that art. But 
 beyond this nothing has been done, and the evil is nearly, if not quite, 
 as prominent and widely-spread as ever. 
 
 What a very able writer says, under the signature of " Rhetor," in a 
 letter to the editor of " The English Churchman," dated October 3, 1 86 1 , 
 may be reproduced now with as much truth as then. " The laity (he says 
 towards the close of his letter) complain, and most justly, of the bad 
 reading inflicted on them Sunday after Sunday. But how can it be 
 otherwise while the present system lasts ? Candidates for the ministry 
 have no proper instruction, either in the public schools or universities. 
 They enter on their professional duties with provincialisms and cockney- 
 isvis uncorrected, and read positively worse than many of their congre- 
 gation. The varieties of professional incapacity are endless ; the mutterer, 
 who swallows all his final syllables ; the drawler, who wearies with his 
 tediousness ; the gabbler, who rushes through the service at express 
 speed; the preacher, who mistakes prayers for sermons; the spouter, 
 who mouths the prayers with the most painful affectation. All these 
 evils are the necessary consequences of the inadequate estimate of the 
 end in view, and the means to be employed for its attainment."' 
 
 On the occasion of the distribution of prizes to the students of the 
 Evening Classes Department, a few years ago, the present Archbishop 
 of York, who occupied the chair as president of the meeting, adverted 
 at considerable length to the class for instruction in public reading and 
 speaking, of which I have the honour to be the lecturer. His Grace 
 said " that, in his opinion, there was no subject of more general import- 
 ance than this. It was scarcely possible to attend any church or public 
 assembly of any kind without meeting with instances of defective articu- 
 lation, inaudibility, indistinctness of utterance, or other faults in delivery. 
 In place of clear, fluent enunciation, true expression, and feeling, we too 
 often meet with instances in which the reading and speaking are charac- 
 terised by the absence of almost every requisite that should mark a good 
 delivery. He himself had not seldom heard readers and speakers in 
 which all the five vowels were so untruly sounded, that it was really
 
 Lect. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 15 
 
 difficult to say which vowel was the one intended to be uttered. There 
 were also often strong provincialisms and other faults in the intonation 
 and pronunciation, which, with care and attention, might often be speedily 
 removed under the instruction of an able and judicious teacher, but 
 which, while they existed, were most unpleasing to persons of refined 
 ear and cultivated taste. These various faults in delivery which he had 
 enumerated, too often marred the effect of our Church services, the read- 
 ing of the Holy Scriptures, and the delivery of sermons. He there- 
 fore saw, with great gratification, that in this department of King's 
 College there were lectures and instruction given in the art of public 
 reading, and attended by so large a class, and that prizes also were 
 awarded for excellence in Elocution." 
 
 With regard to public speaking, which he saw was in the syllabus 
 coupled with instruction in public reading, his Grace said "that if, 
 as he understood was meant by this, the actual practice in the art of 
 discussion, of clothing thoughts in clear and fluent language addressed 
 to others, and so acquiring ease and expression in delivery, as well as 
 confidence and self-possession, it was deserving of every encouragement, 
 and met with his warmest approval ; for few things were more painful 
 to witness than the nervousness, hesitation, and embarrassment of an 
 untrained speaker, who often had excellent matter for a speech, but 
 knew not how to deliver it, from want of training and practice. In this 
 country, and in this age, almost every great religious, political, and 
 social movement was effected by the agency of public speaking ; and 
 the advantages of being well versed in this art, as well as in that of public 
 reading, were becoming every day more apparent." 
 
 I cannot do better here than quote a very striking and appropriate 
 passage from Professor Seeley's essay on "English in Schools," very 
 recently published. He says : — 
 
 " The students being assumed able to read, the first thing is to teach 
 them to read well. By reading well, I do not mean merely correctly, but 
 distinctly and expressively. I mean, in short, that they should be taught 
 Elocution. To this I attach the greatest importance. It is more than a 
 hundred years since Bishop Berkeley propounded the question, whether 
 half the learning and talent of England were not wholly lost because 
 Elocution was not taught in schools and colleges. The same question 
 might be repeated now ; so slow are we English people in taking a hint. 
 But it is not for its practical use only that I wish to see Elocution intro- 
 duced into education : not as much to prevent English people from 
 swallowing their words, as they do now, to the astonishment and dismay 
 of foreigners who are trying to learn our language ; nor yet that those 
 whose profession or business in after'life demands public speaking, or 
 reading, may be taught to speak and read with effect. It is mainly 
 because I think that by this means, more than any other, may be evoked 
 in the minds of the young a taste for poetry and eloquence. This taste 
 is really very universal : generally, where it appears wanting, it is only 
 dormant ; and it is dormant because no means have ever been taken to 
 cultivate the ^^//j'^ <?/" r/y ///;;/, and to make the delif^htf nines s of speech 
 understood." — Lectures and Essays, by J- R. Sceley, JI.A., Professor of
 
 I6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. I. 
 
 Modern History in the University of Cambridge, pp. 231, 232. Professor 
 F. W. Newman, in a most able article " On a University Curriculum," 
 which appeared in "Eraser's Magazine" for October 1875, says (p. 547) : 
 " If a systematic reading class of the noblest poetry, under the guidance 
 of a judicious Elocution master, were added, and voices were trained 
 in class to sing from musical notes, no lack of taste for our poets need 
 be feared, and provincial utterances might be extirpated." 
 
 Now, let me consider another question. Have we, in our modern 
 composite English language, an instrument fitted for and worthy of the 
 application of all the elements of artistic and refined Elocution ? Is it 
 that harsh, rugged, and unmusical tongue which some persons assert it 
 to be ? I utterly deny that the modern English of good composition is 
 a harsh and rugged language when properly read or spoken, unless words 
 of harsh and rugged sound be introduced purposely on the principle of 
 concord between sound and sense — a principle that is to be found more 
 or less apparent and developed in all languages with which I have any 
 sort of acquaintance. Why has the reproach of being "harsh and 
 rugged " so often been cast upon our language by foreigners as well as 
 Englishmen, and a contrast, disadvantageous to us, been drawn between 
 our tongue and that of Italy or Spain, for example ? I think I can give 
 a sufficient reason as an answer. The elements of all tone, inflection, 
 and modulation in human speech are obviously and necessarily the 
 vowels. Let any of us hear the average educated Italian or Spaniard 
 read or speak his own tongue, and we are struck at once with the beauty 
 of the sound oi\.\\Q. language. Again, I ask why? Probably the answer 
 will be, " Because Italian and Spanish abound in so many fine, rich, open 
 vowels '■' — ^and, so far as it goes, the reason given in such answer is true 
 enough ; but it is not the whole reason. Observe a little more closely, 
 and you will find as a rule, generally, that the Italian or the Spaniard 
 forms the vowels purely and sonorously, dwells upon them properly, so 
 that he has ample inatei-ial for due inflection and modulation, and thus 
 his own pronunciation contributes largely to the musical quality, rich- 
 ness, and beauty of the sound of the language of w^hich he is so justly 
 proud. Now, then, in contrast to this, note the ordinary delivery of the 
 average Englishman, who has had no acquaintance with the elements 
 of Elocution, or with reading aloud, or public speaking considered as an 
 art, and I think you will find, as a rule, that the lungs are but seldom 
 inflated sufficiently, or the mouth opened enough for the pure sound 
 of the different vowels, that they are but seldom fully dwelt upon and 
 properly inflected and modulated, and very little use is made of the many 
 and complicated functions of the larynx ; neither do the articulating 
 organs, such as the tongue, lips, &c., perform their part in pronunciation 
 with sufficient energy and precision of action. Hence that loose, mufiied, 
 and indistinct delivery, which the "Saturday Review," not so very long 
 ago, in a most excellent and amusing essay " On Voices," characterised as 
 " fluffy," and asserted that this " fluffiness " of style was the special char- 
 acteristic of the average Englishman's speech. Hence that unmusical 
 and expressionless " gabble," which so often pains and wearies our ears in 
 the reading-desk, pulpit, and public meeting, and which has brought down
 
 LeCT. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 17 
 
 upon our glorious English tongue — that tongue which the great German 
 philologist, Jacob Grimm, asserts to possess " a veritable power of ex- 
 pression and comprehension unsurpassed by any language on earth, 
 whether ancient or modern " — the reproach of being " harsh and rugged." 
 No ! I say again most emphatically, the reproach is not deserved. Our - 
 English language has not merely a sufficiency of consonants to give it 
 nerve, energy, and power, but quite a sufficient recurrence of vowels, if 
 justice is only done to them, to give it full beauty and melody of sound in 
 pronunciation. I give this challenge — Let any one hear a fine passage 
 from Shakespeare, Milton, or Tennyson, for instance, read by an accom- 
 plished and refined reader, well endowed with good natural gifts, and 
 capable, by study and practice in the art of Elocution, of conveying all 
 that the poet would desire to the senses and feelings of his audience, 
 and then say, if he honestly can, that our EngUsh language is wanting 
 either in grandeur or beauty of sound. 
 
 So far, then, I have been considering this object in the light of a 
 high and pure pleasure, which should be cultivated by us for the sake of 
 the gratification which it yields to others, and as a great addition to our 
 social enjoyments. But I cannot conclude without adverting to it under 
 a more selfish aspect. It seems to me one of the beneficent laws of the 
 Creator, that all good is, in the language of our great dramatist, "twice 
 blest, blessing him that gives and him that takes." So, too, as regards 
 the art for which I appear as an advocate to-night. The vocal and speech 
 organs cannot be properly developed by a course of true elocutionary 
 practice without the whole system gaining wonderfully in physical health 
 and vigour. I might quote many high medical authorities in support of 
 this assertion, but I will content myself with only citing one ; for it is a 
 name of one of the highest authority on such subjects, you will admit, 
 when I tell you it is the name of that eminent physician and accom- 
 plished man who passed away from us but so recently, the late Sir 
 Henry Holland. In Sir Henry Holland's "Medical Notes," at p. 422, 
 I read as follows : — 
 
 "Might not more be done in practice towards the prevention of pul- 
 monary disease, as well as for the general improvement of health by 
 expressly exercising the organs of respiration — that is, by practising accord- 
 ing to method those actions of the body through which the chest is in 
 part filled or emptied of air ? Though suggestions to this effect occur 
 in some of our best works on consumption, as well as in the writings of 
 certain Continental physicians, they have hitherto had less than their due 
 influence, and the principle as such is comparatively little recognised, or 
 brought into general application. In truth, common usage takes for the 
 most part a directly opposite course ; and, under the notion or pretext 
 of quiet, seeks to repress all direct exercise of this important function 
 in those who are presumed to have any tendency to pulmonary disorders. 
 ... As regards the modes of exercising the function of respiration, 
 they should be various, to suit the various powers and exigencies of 
 the patient. Readitig aloud {clara lectio) is one of very ancient recom- 
 mendation, the good effects of which are not limited to this object alone. 
 It might indeed be well were the practice of distinct recitatio?t, such as im- 
 
 B
 
 i8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. L 
 
 plies a certain effort of the organs beyond that of mere ordinary speech, 
 more generally used in early life, and continued as a habit, or regular 
 exercise, but especially by those whose chests are weak, and who cannot 
 sustain stronger exertions. Even singing may for the same reasons be 
 allowed in many such cases, but within much narrower limits, and under 
 much more cautious notice of the effects than would be requisite in read- 
 ing. If such caution be duly used as to posture, articulation, and the 
 avoidance of all excess, these regular exercises of the voice may be refidered 
 as salutary to the organs of respiration as they are agreeable in their influence 
 on the ordinary voice. The common course of education is much at fault 
 in this respect. If some small part of the time given to crowding facts 
 on the mind not yet prepared to receive or retain them, were employed 
 in fashioning and improving the organs of speech under good tuition, 
 and with suitable subjects for recitation, both mind and body would often 
 gain materially by the substitution." * In an article on " The Longevity 
 of Brain- Workers," by an eminent American physician. Dr. George Beard, 
 which appears in " The Quarterly Journal of Science " for October 1875, 
 it is stated at p. 447 that " Public Speaking, when not carried to the 
 extreme of exhaustion, is the best form of gymnastics that is known ; it 
 exercises every inch of a man, from the highest regions of the brain to 
 the smallest muscle." 
 
 I might quote opinions to precisely the same effect from the works on 
 consumption and other diseases of the respiratory organs, of Dr. James 
 Bright, Dr. Godwin Timms, Combe, Mayo, and other eminent phy- 
 sicians and physiologists, but there is no need to multiply quotations ; 
 suffice it to say, that all these high medical authorities concur in the 
 same opinion, viz., that "reading aloud" is, when conducted on sound 
 principles, an exercise for the delicate and for the robust, as healthy 
 and strengthening to the body as it is pleasant and profitable to the mind. 
 
 Some time since a benevolent gentleman, aware of the importance of 
 good reading, and anxious to encourage the study of the art, liberally 
 made an offer to both our great universities to found a prize of the 
 annual value of ;^4o, to be given to the best reader. After, I believe, 
 some hesitation, the offer \\-as accepted by Cambridge, and the results, 
 I understand, have been very encouraging. But up to the present time 
 Oxford has declined the proffered gift. I have no authority to state the 
 grounds of the rejection, but I have reason to believe it was on account 
 of the alleged difficulty of deciding to whom, at the times of competition, 
 the prize for good reading should be awarded. Now I must confess to 
 failing to see the soundness of this objection, when we have had for 
 so many years at King's College the establishment of classes for culti- 
 vating the art of public reading, and of annually awarding prizes for 
 proficiency. And certainly here there has been very little, if any, diffi- 
 culty in deciding at the examination who was the student to whom such 
 prize should be awarded On more than one occasion, I believe, two 
 students have been found equal in point of merit, and then the council 
 of King's College has generously given two prizes. If such an occur- 
 
 * Pliny mentions in his ktters that he was in the habit of reciting or reading aloud 
 afler meals, in order to aid digestion.
 
 LEqx. I.] ON ELOCUTION. 19 
 
 rence happened at the University of Oxford, surely the prize of ;£^o 
 might be divided between the two competitors. I can only hope that 
 in a short time Oxford may be induced to reconsider her decision, and 
 follow the course taken by her sister University of Cambridge. 
 
 But time warns me that I must draw these introductory remarks to a 
 close. I have viewed the subject of Elocution under various aspects, 
 and I have endeavoured to show why it is well worthy of being studied 
 for the sake of its good results on others, and also for your own sakes 
 personally. And I trust I have said enough to prove that the hours 
 you will spend here, in the study and practice of the art of public 
 reading and speaking, will be hours neither wasted nor misapplied. 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 Since the foregoing Lecture was delivered, the subjoined leading 
 article appeared in one of our principal daily papers, which I append, 
 as it refers so closely to the subjects discussed in the preceding pages. 
 
 "An incident which occurred last Sunday in North Wales is well cal- 
 culated to suggest many pregnant thoughts to the three hundred young 
 candidates who are about to be admitted to holy orders in the Church 
 of England. We learn from a provincial contemporary that some hitch 
 having occurred in the arrangements for providing that there should be 
 a clergyman ready to perform service in Wynnstay chapel, Sir Watkin 
 Williams Wynn, after waiting for some time, rose from his seat and took 
 his stand at the reading-desk, where he proceeded to read the service 
 through from beginning to end. It is added that, in conclusion, the 
 worthy Baronet expressed his regret that the suddenness of the call 
 upon him had left him unprepared with a sermon. Be this as it may, it 
 cannot be denied that Sir Watkin had a rare opportunity of affording 
 a chance to the congregation which listened to him of comparing his 
 delivery and enunciation with those of the clergyman whose place he 
 filled. We have no data for pronouncing whether the honourable 
 Member for Denbighshire was more impressive in the reading-desk than 
 his ordinary clerical predecessor, or whether the peculiarities of utter- 
 ance which are hereditary in his family disqualified him for making the 
 most of the excellent opportunity afforded him. But nothing is more 
 certain than that many Members of either House of Parliament are 
 much finer readers of the Church Service and Lessons, when they 
 have prayers daily in their own families, than the average rector or curate 
 who occupies the pulpit or reading-desk upon each successive Sunday. 
 Nor can it ever be unnecessary to remind English clergymen, especially 
 those who habitually perform the service among urban congregations, 
 that they rarely fail to number among their listeners one or more lay- 
 men who have the gift of lending a deeper significance and tenderness 
 to the beautiful Litany of the Church of England, or to the inspired 
 words of Holy Writ, than these are frequently invested with. There are 
 too many in whose case familiarity has blunted the acuteness of im- 
 pression with which the finest passages of Scripture are heard by those 
 who have but few and intermittent opportunities for attending church. 
 Thus, it is impossible for a clergyman ever to know whether he may not
 
 20 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. 1. 
 
 have among his audience a judge or a lawyer whose delivery has long 
 been famous for its excellence in the Law Courts that he frequents, or 
 an actor who has made it his study for years to get the most out of every 
 word and tone that he pronounces upon the stage. There is a well- 
 known story which relates that David Garrick offered, when staying 
 as a guest at an English country-house, to read the Litany of the Church 
 of England to his host and fellow-guests, and that he proclaimed his 
 power of investing it with a pathos and meaning which would be sur- 
 prising to those who had never heard it read out of church. True to his 
 promise, the celebrated actor so pronounced the sentence beginning, 
 ' In all time of our tribulation,' that there was not a dry eye among his 
 hearers as its concluding words fell upon their ears. ' To hear him,' 
 said one of his profoundly-moved audience, 'was to find a new sense.' 
 Mr. Lecky tells us that Burke once declared, ' in an assembly in no de- 
 gree inferior to any of Greece or of Rome ' — that is to say, in the British 
 House of Commons — that there was probably no orator among those 
 he addressed who did not owe something of his skill to the acting 
 of Garrick. , 
 
 " Such men — whether regarded as players, declaimers, or readers — as 
 David Garrick are, however, of very rare occurrence. But every 
 reader of his ' Life,' as portrayed by Murphy or Davies, cannot fail 
 to remember the extraordinary power and meaning which 'the little 
 play-actor from Lichfield ' — as Dr. Johnson somewhat contemptuously 
 dubbed him — infused into the parts of Abel Drugger and King Lear. 
 If, in the opinion of Edmund Burke, such orators as Fox and Sheridan 
 owed some portion of their success and excellence on the hustings and 
 in Parliament to an imitation of David Garrick, we shall be doing no 
 injustice to the clergymen of all denominations who were his contempo- 
 raries if we believe that they might, with advantage, have studied reading 
 and delivery in the pulpit by listening to and watching him on the stage. 
 It is the oldest of saws that every great orator, whether secular or eccle- 
 siastical, has in him many of the attributes of a play-actor ; and no one 
 can have listened to the most successful of American preachers — Mr. 
 Henry Ward Beecher — whose name has been so long before the pub- 
 lic in connection with a painful and humiliating investigation — without 
 seeing how closely his performances on the platform of Plymouth Church 
 draw their inspiration from the stage. For those reasons we would have 
 every young clergyman remember that ' delivery ' is as essential to him, 
 if he would become a power in the pulpit and reading-desk, as the thrice- 
 repeated * action ' which Demosthenes pronounced to be the orators 
 first attribute. ' You have such an irresistible way of putting it ! ' said 
 an Irish Roman Catholic clergyman to Sydney Smith, when the witty 
 canon urged upon him the advisability of accepting a State endowment 
 for his church. The same ' irresistible way of putting it ' made Sydney 
 Smith the most convincing and persuasive of preachers ; and it is re- 
 corded that when, some forty years ago, he delivered a charity sermon in 
 York, which is still repeated on the same subject year after year, he 
 caused his hearers to open their purse-strings wider than any of his 
 successors, in a much wealthier age, have hitherto been able to do.
 
 Lkct. I] ON ELOCUTION. 21 
 
 ' Delivery,' said Dr. Johnson to a young clergyman in whom he took an 
 interest, 'is more potential than eloquent matter;' and few of us can 
 fail to have listened to striking sermons of which the effect was wholly 
 marred by the bad articulation and slovenly reading of their authors. 
 It is the highest and noblest of the stimulants which incite a great tragic 
 actor to put forth his choicest powers that among his audience there may 
 be orators of world-wide reputation, and clergymen who aspire to the 
 influence and prestige of a Savonarola or a Robertson. There was once 
 a time — not so very long ago — when the Roman Catholic Church re- 
 fused its sacraments to play-actors, and doomed them, if they died in 
 their profession, to eternal perdition. Thus the body of the beautiful 
 and accomplished Le Couvreur, who had been one of the brightest 
 ornaments of the French stage, was refused access to consecrated ground, 
 and buried in a cattle-field on the edge of the Seine. But it was per- 
 mitted to Voltaire, by an ode of fiery indignation, to avenge her memory 
 from outrage, and to obtain larger charity for her successors. There is 
 nothing now in public opinion to forbid clergymen from attending the 
 theatre, and from trying to borrow hints as to delivery and articulation 
 from any tragic actor or actress who is cunning and skilful enough to 
 impart them. 
 
 " But the accidental circumstance that Sir Watkin Wynn should have 
 performed the service last Sunday in a little Welsh chapel will carry the 
 minds of many to other scenes where, in the absence of clergymen, the 
 prayers and lessons for the day are not unfrequently read by laymen. 
 It is one of the fundamental rules of that noble fleet of vessels which, 
 under the name of the ' Cunard Line,' has maintained the communica- 
 tion between the Old and New Worlds for nearly forty years without 
 ever sacrificing the life of a single passenger, that the service of the 
 Church of England should be read in the saloon upon every Sunday 
 morning that is passed at sea. Among the passengers one or more 
 clergymen are often included, and it is by no means uncommon for the 
 service to be performed, upon the invitation of the captain, by some 
 reverend gentleman invested with the holy orders of one among the 
 many Christian churches. With the exception of the Roman Catholic 
 priesthood, to whom the liturgy of the English ritual is an abomination, 
 there are not wanting many Presbyterian or Baptist — or as we should 
 say in England, ' Nonconformist' — ministers among our Transatlantic 
 brethren who are always ready and willing to read the Church of Eng- 
 land service to their fellow-passengers. But, failing such a cleric, the 
 prayers and lessons are habitually read either by the captain, the purser, 
 or the surgeon ; and few passengers can have crossed the Atlantic fre- 
 quently without wishing that it was their lot oftener to hear such readers 
 as some among the captains of the Cunard Line. It would be invidious 
 to mention the names of several who are still in command of one or 
 other of these magnificent vessels. But no jealousies will be aroused 
 when we say that Captain Judkins, who, having long been Commodore 
 of the Line, has now retired from active duty, was in the habit of read- 
 ing the service upon the Sundays that he passed at sea with a dignity 
 and impressiveness to which not many clergymen can lay claim. With
 
 22 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. T. 
 
 the ' Union Jack ' folded across the desk which held the Bible and Prayer- 
 Book, and himself the impersonation of a stout British sailor, Captain 
 Judkins has unconsciously touched many a heart when, in the midst of an 
 Atlantic gale, he has given utterance to one or more of the prayers pre- 
 scribed by the Church of England ' to be read at sea.' It is in scenes 
 such as this that a reflective mind is led to meditate upon the oppor- 
 tunities for effective delivery which are within the reach of every clergy- 
 man whether by sea or land, and of which, too often, but little use is 
 made. There can be no more effectual stimulant for those who are 
 permitted to perform holy service upon each recurrent Sunday in every 
 quarter of the globe than to remember that it is impossible for them to 
 know whom they may have among their audience, and that the m.anner 
 and style of their accent and delivery will often touch hearts too dead 
 to be reached by careless utterances and half-hearted monotony."
 
 LECTURE 11. 
 
 The Study of the English Language, viewed relatively in regard to other tongfnes — Im- 
 portance of the Art of Delivery in Ancient Times^Causes suggested for its subse- 
 quent comparative neglect — The Subject viewed in reference to Public and Private 
 Life — Quotation from the Rev. Canon Kingsley — The Rev. James Pycroft's "Twenty 
 Years in the Church " — Popular Readings as an intellectual Recreation — Good results 
 that might be attained by these means — General summary of the subjects discussed in 
 these Lectures. 
 
 N the Introductory Public Lecture, which I gave on our open- 
 ing night of the session, the remarks I addressed to you were 
 directed principally to one object, viz., the endeavour to show 
 how, in a free country like ours, with an unfettered Senate, 
 with professions such as the Church and the Bar, and with 
 public meetings on all kinds of subjects, religious, political, and social, 
 held all over the country almost every day in the year, the art of public 
 speaking and reading is continually being brought into requisition, and 
 what necessity there existed for the proper study, practice, and cultivation 
 of that art. 
 
 I venture now to solicit your attention to some further remarks, which 
 I may also term introductory, but to which the time I was limited on 
 Tuesday last prevented me from adverting. 
 
 No one, I think, will deny that words, however appropriately selected, 
 if spoken or read without due feeling and expression, are mere lifeless 
 sounds that will scarcely affect the understanding of the hearer in gene- 
 ral, and most assuredly will never awaken a single passion or emotion in 
 the soul. Indeed, I may well ask this question — Even when we bend 
 over the silent pages of an eloquent book, are not our minds excited 
 and rendered alive to the full beauty and significance of the thoughts 
 and language, only so far as we imagine the sentences rendered with 
 an appropriate delivery? And when we come to consider language 
 spoken or read aloud, I think we may properly ask, if it is not essen- 
 tially imperfect unless accompanied by purity of intonation, distinct 
 articulation, appropriate inflection and modulation of the voice, due 
 observance of prosody and the great physiological law of poise, the 
 right discrimination of degrees of emphasis, and, when suitable to the 
 occasion, proper expression of countenance and gesture, so as to be able 
 to communicate thoroughly to the mind of the hearer the full import 
 of the words which form the sentences that are uttered ?
 
 24 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. 1 1. 
 
 It certainly seems to me that we are not so negligent in regard to the 
 pronunciation of other languages as we are of our own. If we seek, a 
 French teacher, we endeavour to meet with one who not only knows his 
 language grammatically, but speaks it with the purest Parisian accent : 
 if we desire a German tutor, we prefer one from Hanover : if a Spanish 
 instructor, one from Castile : while, as regards Italian, its beau ideal is 
 considered to be the ^^ lingua Toscatia iti bocca Rojtiana." If all this 
 attention be paid, and rightly paid, to the proper pronunciation of other 
 tongues, why should we so much neglect the acquisition of the best 
 delivery of our own ? Surely the language of Shakespeare and Milton ; 
 the language which I am bold enough to say of all translations best con- 
 veys the sublimity and beauty of the Bible; the language of the Liturgies 
 of the English Church ; the language which has been us&d as the medium 
 for the embodiment and the transmission of thoughts the most glorious 
 and ennobling, by writers whose names will live whilst literature endures ; 
 — surely, I contend, a full comprehension by ourselves, and an effective 
 rendering to others of such a language, deserves to be cultivated with all 
 the care and attention we can bestow. 
 
 Before I proceed further, let me stop at this place to inquire, why 
 it is that a science and art like Elocution — for I claim that it is both 
 — and W'hich in classical times was so highly valued, and on which such 
 authorities as Demosthenes, Cicero, and Quintilian, have set the stamp 
 of approval, and urged in the strongest terms the importance of its study, 
 should of late years have been comparatively disregarded as part of our 
 education, and yet music, singing, drawing, and other accomplishments 
 have all received their due share of attention ; and most properly so, 
 for I should be the last person to undervalue the cultivation of any one 
 art that tends to promote the grace and refinement of life, and advance 
 the civilisation of all ranks of society. But why is it that Elocution should 
 have fallen from the position it occupied in other days and circumstances? 
 Well, one reason, I believe, is to be found in the fact that the very word 
 has been made a bugbear of, and has frightened away many excellent 
 persons — persons of taste and refinement — from the pursuit of its 
 study, through a completely erroneous interpretation of its meaning and 
 character. Does not many a man entertain a sort of secret conviction, 
 even if he does not openly express the opinion, that the study and prac- 
 tice of Elocution must eventually lead to a pompous, bombastic, stilted 
 and pedantic style — a style, in short, in which the palpably artificial 
 reigns predominant over everything that is pure, simple, and natural ? 
 Now. all that I can say is — what I said in my Public Introductory Lecttire 
 — if Elocution either meant, or, properly understood and taught, really 
 tended to anything of the kind, I should be the last person to advocate 
 its adoption in colleges, schools, or anywhere else. What my definition 
 of Elocution is, I gave you fully on the occasion to which I have just 
 referred, and I hope it is sufficiently remembered by you not to need 
 repetition now. 
 
 How strange it is, when we reflect on the power, the marvellous power 
 which spoken language has to excite the deepest and strongest feelings 
 of our nature, that the cultivation of the art of its delivery, which once
 
 Lect. II.] ON ELOCUTION. 25 
 
 received so much attention, should afterwards, and for so long a time, 
 have been comparatively neglected ! I said but a few minutes ago that 
 we know how highly the art of rhetoric was estimated in ancient Greece 
 and Rome, and we need but point to the undying names which I then 
 mentioned to show how the great orators of antiquity valued and studied 
 the art of delivery. When the great orator of Greece said that the first, 
 second, and last requisite to ensure success in the art of which he was 
 so illustrious an example was "action," it did not mean action in the 
 narrow sense in which we are now accustomed to limit it — viz., to 
 *' gesture " — but it meant all that we are wont to associate together in 
 the word "delivery" — viz., voice, words, pronunciation, expression, and 
 gesture. This was what the great orator meant when he uttered his 
 famous dictum, " Action, action, action ! " 
 
 I have asked, how comes it that the art of delivery, or " Elocution," 
 should have fallen in after-times into comparative neglect ? May not 
 this answer be given among others? The art which has revolutionised 
 the world^ — the art of printing — was then unknown ; and when there was 
 no press to scatter far and wide over the land the winged words of 
 thought, speech was then the only means by which the intellect of a 
 nation could be stirred or its passions swayed. Consequently, the art of 
 speech was studied by all who wished to influence their fellow-men. 
 Time and circumstance were alike favourable to its development, and 
 its power was well understood and sedulously cultivated. But now we 
 have, not only within all reasonable hmits, a free press, but at the same 
 time, what in other ages we had not, and what some other countries near 
 us have not now, freedom of speech to express all our thoughts, views, 
 and opinions socially, politically, and morally ; and I think the time is at 
 hand when the power of speech may be made an influence in our land, 
 and in all grades of society, second to none in importance. But it is 
 not alone in crowded senates, churches, courts of justice, or popular 
 assemblies, that I would advocate the study of Elocution. Cicero most 
 truly remarks, in his first book on oratory, that " address in speaking is 
 highly ornamental and useful '\x\ private as well as 'vc\ public Xxia.'' 
 
 And surely what the great Roman said in his day is equally applicable 
 to our own. For, let me ask, even supposing a young man has no 
 present apparent likelihood of debating in Parliament, of arguing 
 before judges, or addressing juries at the bar, or of appealing on the 
 most solemn subjects of all from the pulpit, does it therefore follow that 
 he need bestow no trouble in learning to speak correctly, elegantly, and 
 effectively his native language? Is it certain that he will never have 
 occasion to make a speech or express his opinions at some public meet- 
 ing? Will he never have occasion to read aloud some report of a 
 religious, a philanthropic, or. other society, or to read in the company of 
 friends, or in the family circle, some speech or leading article from the 
 newspaper, some chapter from a book, or some verses from a poem ? 
 And what a difference will there be in the effect produced upon the 
 audience, and also on the reader or speaker himself, accordingly as this 
 is done well or ill ! Let those answer who have had opportunities of 
 judging. We are most of us in the present day accustomed to cultivate
 
 26 A'/NG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. II. 
 
 athletic exercises in some form or other, and well for us that we do. 
 Parents send their sons to be taught drilling, dancing, fencing, and other 
 exercises that tend to give strength, flexibility, ease, and elegance to the 
 movements of the limbs ; and very excellent are such accomplishments 
 in their way. But, after all, the limbs are portions of our frame less noble 
 and characteristic of man than the tongue ; and yet, while no gentleman 
 who can afford it hesitates at expending time, and money too, in sending 
 his son to the drilling, dancing, or fencing master, how few comparatively 
 send as systematically their children to the Elocution master, to be taught 
 the right use of that which is the crowning glory of mankind — the divine 
 gift of speech. 
 
 More than a century ago an eminent writer on the art (Dr. Burgh) 
 remarked that the delivery, manner, and address of a speaker are of 
 the utmost importance, and that a just and pleasing style of delivering 
 either our own compositions or those of others is far too much neglected 
 among our countrymen. The charge is still in a great degree true, 
 though I must say in the last few years I think there has decidedly been 
 a change for the better, and there has been a growing desire to make 
 the art I advocate a more prominent part of a gentleman's education 
 than was the case some years ago. It is greatly to the honour and 
 credit of this great college that it was the first among the eminent 
 educational establishments of the metropolis to make the art of public 
 reading and speaking a prominent feature in its regular course of in- 
 struction. Its importance has been felt, and now, at several institutions 
 in London and the provinces that I could name, institutions for the 
 education of young women as well as men, the art of reading aloud is 
 one of the accomplishments regularly taught, I rejoice that this is so 
 on every account, and particularly that the young of both sexes are now 
 being systematically taught at these places to speak and read their own 
 glorious native language clearly, elegantly, and effectively. 
 
 It is an art, indeed, well worthy the diligent study and practice of 
 every lady and gentleman in the land. I may mention, as a proof of 
 the estimation in which good reading, simply as a social accomplishment, 
 is held in some of the highest circles of society, that I have in the last 
 few years been present at many literary and musical "soire'es," where 
 the reader has contributed equally \i\\\\ the musician and the vocalist 
 to the intellectual enjoyment of the evening. 
 
 It is to me, therefore, a source of great gratification to find that at 
 nearly all our literary institutions Elocution classes are increasing and 
 yearly becoming more and more popular, and I earnestly hope that their 
 good influence will be felt far and wide, and extend even to societies of 
 a humbler social grade, such as working men's clubs and institutes ; for 
 a real pleasure, a thoroughly pure enjoyment, such as good reading is, 
 ought not to be the exclusive privilege of any one class, but should 
 extend to all. be cultivated by all, and appreciated by all. 
 
 It has been well said, if in our ideas of the Fine Arts we include all 
 those embellishments of civilised life which combine in a high degree 
 the gratification of a refined taste with the exercise of an enliglitened 
 intellect, then must reading aloud hold a prominent place amongst
 
 Lect. II.] ON ELOCUTION. 27 
 
 those arts which impart a charm to social intercourse and purity the 
 associations of ordinary Ufe. But it must be good reading, or the enjoy- 
 ment is exchanged for unspeakable annoyance. When all the necessary 
 requisites for a good reader are taken into account, we wonder not so 
 much that this accomplishment is neglected, as that it does not consti- 
 tute, with all who look upon education in its true light, an important 
 means of refining and elevating the mind, of cultivating the sympathies, 
 and of improving those habits of perception and adaptation which are 
 so valuable to all. 
 
 However, there is yet another ground I may take in reference to this 
 subject. Has it ever struck you, as a general rule, that the higher the 
 station of life, the greater the refinement and the more finished the taste 
 of the individual, so much the more pure and polished will you find 
 the tone of the voice and corresponding clearness of articulation ? I 
 remember, in one of the earher works of that admirable writer, the Rev. 
 Charles Kingsley,* he describes the hero of his tale as being present at 
 a village revel, and endeavouring, but vainly, to make out the meaning 
 of what he heard around him. The passage is as follows : — " Sadder 
 and sadder, Lancelot tried to listen to the conversation of the men 
 around him. To his astonishment, he hardly understood a word of it. 
 It was half-articulate, ?iasal, guttural, made up almost cjitirely of voivels, 
 like the speech of savages. He had never been struck before with the 
 significant contrast between the shaip, clearly-defined articulation, the 
 vivid and varied tones of the gentleman, when compared with the coarse 
 halfformed growls, as of a company of seals, which he heard round 
 him. That single fact struck him perhaps more deeply than any; it 
 connected itself with many of his physiological fancies ; it was the 
 parent of many thoughts and plans of his after-life." 
 
 I have alluded before to the objections that are sometimes urged 
 against Elocution as an art to be studied and practised in general, but 
 especially by those who are in any way likely to take part in public life. 
 If we search into the sources of these objections, I think we should find 
 them chiefly to consist of two classes, viz., those persons who think that 
 a certain impulse, or what they call a natural gift, is enough to ensure 
 success in public speaking, and those who contend that so long as the 
 matter of the discourse is sound and good, the mariner and delivery are 
 of very little, if any, importance. Now, to the one class of objectors 
 I answer, granting that public speaking is more or less a " natural gift," 
 it is no more so than any other special aptitude for art which God has 
 given us, such as the genius for music, painting, or sculpture, and, like 
 them all, requires acquaintance with principles as well as study and prac- 
 tice to reach a high standard of excellence ; and to the other class of 
 objectors I say, without any hesitation, that with audiences in general the 
 sterling quality, sound sense, and excellent matter of a speech or sermon 
 are but little felt or properly appreciated unless accompanied by, at all 
 events, an appare?itly earnest manner and effective delivery. Do not let 
 me be misunderstood. I am not so much speaking here of discourses 
 or sermons which may perhaps be intended chiefly for publication here- 
 
 * Yeast, p. 1 84.
 
 28 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IT. 
 
 after, and may trust to their effect being chiefly produced on the thinker 
 and student as they quietly read and ponder over such compositions in 
 their studies, but I am speaking here of discourses, the effects of which 
 are intended to be felt, and the aims of the speaker attained, at the time 
 of delivery; and I am not speaking of what may be the impressions 
 produced on a select few, but of what is felt by the great majority in 
 audiences or congregations. 
 
 It is not always our good fortune to address refined and cultivated 
 assemblies, who are willing to overlook a dull, prosy, wearisome delivery, 
 and awkward or defective manner, for the sake of the excellence of the 
 matter. A preacher has not always a learned university for his congre- 
 gation, and a barrister is not always, as I have said already, arguing 
 abstruse and intricate points of law before the Courts of Chancery, a 
 Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, or judges sitting iti banco. 
 The minister of religion has to endeavour to rouse the torpid mind, the 
 apathetic disposition or stolid ignorance of millions of village labourers 
 and " city arabs " throughout the land ; and the barrister has to address 
 juries draAvn from many varied sources in London and on circuit, as 
 well as learned, courteous, and patient judges. And so, too, if a man 
 is looking to the Senate as the object of his ambition, let him remember 
 that election meetings and dinner assemblies of constituents have to be 
 addressed, as well as a critical and fastidious House of Parliament. 
 
 I do not hesitate, then, to say that public speaking, public reading, 
 or, in one comprehensive word. Elocution, should be studied by every 
 man who is intended for professional life, or likely at any time to be 
 called upon to address popular assemblies. I believe this to be true as 
 regards all professional or public life, but I think it bears with peculiar 
 lorce upon those who are designed for clerical life. And for this reason 
 — when we speak in public, we warm with the feelings of the moment, 
 we are carried away often by the rush of our emotions and the flow of 
 our ideas, and even the man who in ordinary circumstances is of a 
 lethargic or unexcitable temperament, often, under the influence of 
 powerful passions, rouses up and seems to become almost a different 
 being. This, too, will hold equally good with regard to extempore 
 preaching, but it is often the reverse in the case of the clergyman who 
 has written his sermon, and afterwards reads it aloud to his congregation. 
 In reading, especially if the subject is one very familiar to us, such as 
 the form of morning and evening prayer in the Church Service repeated 
 by the minister every Sunday, and often every day, there is a tendency, 
 I fear, even if the voice be audible and the articulation distinct, to pro- 
 nounce the words tamely and monotonously, and to make the reading 
 seem, at least in extreme cases, as if it were a mechanical task that must 
 be got through in a given space of time. Now we want something more, 
 whether it be the reading of the Bible, the Church Liturgy, or the 
 delivery of a discourse from the pulpit, than mere audibility of tone and 
 distinctness of utterance. We want that full pure voice, with its proper 
 inflection, modulation, and poise, which will make the reading thoroughly 
 significant, and bring out all the meaning contained in each sentence of 
 the discourse with the utmost power and expression consistent with
 
 Lect. II] ON ELOCUTION. 29 
 
 personal ease and the dictates of good taste. When this is done there 
 seems indeed to be a soul, a life (if I may use such a metaphor) per- 
 vading the sentences so read, and we perceive at once a power and 
 beauty which before we scarcely seemed to feel or recognise. 
 
 Now, with regard to pubUc reading, I cannot but think (as I do of 
 most things in life), if it be worth doing at all, it is ivorth doing well. 
 " Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might : " and I say, 
 whatsoever words we have to utter, let us speak them so as to bring them 
 home to our hearers' minds and hearts with all the truth and power of 
 which they are capable. 
 
 I cannot think it is a matter of indifference whether a man opens the 
 sacred volume and reads to his congregation a chapter in the hurried 
 and unmeaning "gabble" (to use a plain but most expressive Anglo- 
 Saxon word), or drawls through it in the weary, listless, monotonous 
 tone and manner with which some of us, I am sure, must ere now in our 
 wanderings have heard the Word of God — I was about to say — profaned ; 
 or whether, in voice and accents full and clear, solemn in tone and 
 emphatic in meaning, he makes every word of the inspired page fall 
 not merely on the ear, but on the heart, there abiding, there awakening, 
 there comforting. 
 
 Surely, if there be such an art, such a power, that art is worth study- 
 ing, that power is worth acquiring. 
 
 I was much struck with the truth of a passage I met with while 
 perusing a very well-known work by the Rev. James Pycroft — I mean 
 "Twenty Years in the Church." In the chapter to which I allude, Mr. 
 Pycroft says: "To read in a church is no easy matter. You are 
 required to use your voice in a manner wholly new to you. You have 
 to pitch your voice in a certain key, to dwell upon your vowels, and to 
 read much louder than you ever read before. If really natural, you 
 seem artificial, and you must become in a degree artificial to seem 
 natural. Like an actor, you really must, till habit forms a second nature, 
 appear to yourself to exaggerate, that you may not sound flat and feeble 
 to your audience. 
 
 " The adventures of any poor curate in quest of a proper tone of 
 voice would often be amusing indeed. At one time I was told I was 
 too low ; next Sunday this made me thin and wiry. Then I read in a 
 monotone, to avoid which I became uneven, as if trying every note of 
 the gamut by turns. When at last I was settling down into some regular 
 habit, our doctor, who had been reading some paper on Elocution, asked 
 me if I happened to have a pretty good stomach, for he could tell me 
 that I tasked that department not only with my Sunday dinners, but 
 also with my Sunday duty : for, in short, I read from my stomach. 
 Then, in altering this, I was alarmed at being told that I read from my 
 throat, and what with bending my chin, and with a stiff cravat, the 
 dreaded ' clerical sore throat ' must come in no time. Add to this, I 
 was informed anatomically that the roof of the mouth was nature's 
 sounding-board, and that the nostrils were intended to act like the holes 
 of a flute, and that what was called ' reading through the nose ' was a 
 misnomer ; for I really ought to read through my nose, and that I had
 
 30 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. II. 
 
 only to hold my nose while I read to acquire at once the true conventicle 
 twang. 
 
 " I am only relating a simple fact when I say that every error in the 
 use of my poor lungs, stomach, throat, palate, tongue, teeth, and nasal 
 organ, had their day with me ; and rarely do I hear a clergyman read 
 but I recognise one or more of the same blunders. 
 
 " A common fault in reading is the monotone ; and when, as I some- 
 times hear, there is this drowsiness of tone, added to a ' drift ' or see-saw 
 of measured cadences at the same time — why, then even the old nursery 
 tune of ' lullaby baby ' itself cannot be compared to such soothing sounds 
 for rocking the cradle of the hearer's brains. 
 
 " Now, reading in church requires so much breath, you cannot afford 
 to waste any. The labour is so great to vocal organs (especially, I may 
 add, when not accustomed to the work), that you cannot afford to tire 
 them needlessly. The voice required is so loud, you cannot afford to 
 lose any of the aids of intonation, articulation, or reverberation. In one 
 word, your lungs, throat, and mouth form one most complicated machine. 
 In reading in church these organs are applied to a new purpose, almost 
 as different as singing is from talking, and the very wisest thing a young 
 curate can do is to take a course of lessons from a good EloczUion master. 
 Nor could any benevoletit Churchman spetid his money better than by main- 
 taining a clerical reading master for the benefit of the diocese. 
 
 " Many a clergyman, for want of knowing the benefit he could derive 
 from a course of reading lessons, inflicts a cruel drawl upon his congre- 
 gation, and most unnecessary labour upon himself. As to the ' clerical 
 sore throat,' the barrister and the speaker are alike free from it. The 
 dissenting preacher is also free from it. It is for the most part a truly 
 orthodox complaint. It arises not from talking, but from reading, and 
 no doubt from reading badly. Though I would impress that any man 
 may sustain injury if he reads w^hen he has a sore throat. To show 
 what may be attained by taking a course of reading lessons, I will add 
 an anecdote relating to one of the most able and experienced elocution- 
 ists of the day. A certain eminent actor, being rather indisposed, 
 resolved one night, not actually to absent himself, but to deliver his 
 part without exertion. Much to his surprise, he was told he never 
 spoke so distinctly or could be heard so well before. From that 
 observation he discovered the grand secret of reading audibly without 
 
 effort, or comparative fatigue, and Mr. formed his system of 
 
 instruction accordingly." 
 
 Now there is very great truth contained in the passages I have just 
 read to you, and the experience of the poor curate who is the hero in 
 "Twenty Years in the Church," must, I am convinced from my own 
 observations, be the experience of thousands. 
 
 But there are many other ways in which men, whether clerical or lay, 
 may find it of inestimable value to be able to speak at the right time 
 the right word in the right way, and possessing this power, may find 
 results flowing from it scarcely calculable by human wisdom. 
 
 Though it is in the Senate,' in the Church, and at the Bar that the 
 advantages of being skilled in the art of Elocution will be most manifest,
 
 Lect. II.] ON ELOCUTION, 31 
 
 yet there is scarcely any calling now pursued by men of liberal education, 
 in which a knowledge of its principles and moderate efficiency in its 
 practice will not be found at times most useful. The medical man has 
 to lecture to his pupils in the anatomical theatre ; the officer in the army 
 or navy to give commands and issue orders, and sometimes, moreover, 
 make addresses to the men who are under his authority ; the engineer 
 to explain intricate calculations and elaborate plans before committees 
 and other persons ; and all these, and I might mention other vocations, 
 cannot (it must be admitted, I think) but derive great benefit from 
 acquiring an art which enables them to speak clearly and intelligibly to 
 their hearers, and with ease, comfort, and freedom to themselves. 
 
 But I will view the subject now in another light, and on a much 
 lower ground — I mean simply as an intellectual recreation. And let 
 me ask, save music and song, what social pleasure is there greater than 
 that of reading aloud, as they should be read, the great masters of English 
 prose and poetry? The public readings which are now being carried 
 on during the winter months for the amusement and relaxation of toiling 
 thousands in so many parts of England, as well as in the metropolis, 
 sufficiently prove this. To any person who has been present at these 
 social gatherings, and witnessed the delight of an audience when a skilful 
 reader has brought home to their hearts as well as senses " the universal 
 and unparalleled opulence of Shakespeare, the sacred harmony of Milton, 
 the gentle fancy of Spenser, the nervous energy of Dryden, the tender 
 flow of Goldsmith, or the moral gravity of Cowper," * not to mention 
 the great writers, whether in prose or poetry, of more recent times and 
 of the present day, the truth of the remarks I have just made will at once 
 be evident. 
 
 While bestowing, then, due attention to the grammatical construction 
 and right pronuncation of other languages, do not neglect to pay equal 
 care on these points to our own. Do not, I beseech you, undervalue 
 our fine, expressive, noble English tongue. I am very far from seeking 
 to depreciate other languages, but I do assert this, that there is no argu- 
 ment, however learned or profound ; no poetry, however beautiful and 
 affecting ; no drama, however grand, spirit-stirring, and sublime, to which 
 its wondrous comprehensiveness has not been adapted with force, vigour, 
 and propriety almost unrivalled. 
 
 I have, however, yet to dwell on one most important result which I 
 have ever found to follow from the practice of reading aloud to others, 
 and to young perso/is especially, the works of our best authors, and that 
 is, the taste for reading which is engendered by the auditors ; and this 
 taste, I firmly believe, once awakened, lasts as long as life endures. And 
 when once we are taught really to know what books are to us, can we 
 ever sufficiently estimate their value ? 
 
 They are the sources of our learning, the elevators of our souls, the 
 cheerers of our solitary hours, the means by which we taste the purest 
 sources of enjoyment. Nay, if our lives be measured by the ideas 
 which arise within our minds, and not by the minutes or hours of the 
 dial, we may almost be said to lengthen our existence even on earth 
 * From a lecture by Lord Carlisle.
 
 32 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. II. 
 
 indefinitely, and to live, as it were, at once in the past, the present, and 
 the future. 
 
 Great, however, as are the blessings, and manifold as are the pleasures, 
 which attend the perusal of the master-spirits of literature, the blessings 
 and the pleasures are comparatively only selfish, so long as we confine 
 ourselves within the walls of our studies. But when we read aloud effec- 
 tively and significantly they lose this character, and then they become 
 blessings and pleasures spread abroad and shared by others in common 
 with ourselves ; and a higher, purer, and cheaper pleasure I can scarcely 
 imagine. 
 
 I do not for one moment attempt to deny that to attain proficiency 
 in this art of reading aloud requires, of course, the due cultivation, not 
 merely of the voice and ear, but also of the various faculties of the 
 mind ; for I hold it to be utterly impossible that an unintelligent, an 
 unrefined person, can ever (no matter what natural advantages he may 
 possess in the way of voice or person) be a really good reader. Unless 
 there be taste, refinement, and discriminating power within, the corre- 
 sponding intonation, emphasis, and modulation will either be wholly 
 w'anting, or else will be found lamentably misplaced. I do not deny that 
 the art of Elocution does require much cultivation, much study, much 
 practice to attain perfection ; but let me remind you, so does every art 
 that is worth acquiring at all. The eye, the ear, all our senses, indeed, 
 require to be cultivated to enjoy the full gratification of which they are 
 capable. Do not, then, be discouraged by what I frankly tell you. You 
 will require to give thought and attention, followed by careful practice 
 in reading aloud the best works of the best authors, if you would attain 
 anything like success in the art which I profess to teach. It shall be my 
 endeavour in the more practical lectures which will follow this, to make 
 my rules and illustrations as plain and simple as I possibly can. I have 
 hitherto, as you will have noticed, confined myself to the task of 
 endeavouring to lay before you as strongly as I could the various reasons 
 ivhy all men of liberal education, but more especially those about to 
 enter the Church, or preparing for the Bar, should include Elocution 
 among their studies. My succeeding lectures will more especially en- 
 deavour to show you hoiv this art should be studied and its principles 
 carried into practice. 
 
 In concluding my Lecture this evening, I have only to remark that, 
 desiring to carry out as much as possible the principles of Technical 
 Education — a subject which was so admirably treated and illustrated by 
 our excellent Principal in the last opening Lecture, which he gave on 
 the annual opening of this Department of the College, upon the relation- 
 ship between " General and Technical Education " — I propose in the 
 course of my Lectures, this and subsequent Sessions, introducing the 
 following subjects in reference to the art which I have to teach. You 
 are aware that in the Department of Law the subject of public speaking 
 forms part of the course of study. I propose, therefore, introducing, 
 when I come to the subject of Extejnpore speaking generally, one or two 
 special Lectures on the various classes of speeches which from time to 
 time the barrister or advocate has to make in the discharge of his
 
 Lect. II.] ON ELOCUTION. 33 
 
 various professional duties — such as addressing special and common 
 juries in London or on circuit — arguing points of law before the 
 judges, &c., from which I would venture to hope some useful suggestions 
 may be gleaned. 
 
 In another respect also I am going to depart a little out of the beaten 
 track. In scarcely one of my classes yet have there not been some 
 young clergymen, or students who intended to make the clerical profes- 
 sion their ultimate calling in life. In the hope of aiding them a little in 
 the general composition and delivery of sermons, I propose devoting at 
 least one Lecture to the subjects of reading the Bible and Liturgy, the 
 construction of sermons, and the art of preaching. I need not say this 
 will be given entirely from a laymafi's point of view as an art, and not 
 have the smallest reference to any points of theological doctrine — so 
 that I trust I shall escape the slightest imputation of unwarrantably 
 going out of my proper sphere, and venturing where I have no right or 
 authority to tread. 
 
 I hope also to touch on the various kinds of extempore speeches which 
 it is the lot of most men, at some period of their lives, to be called on to 
 make at public meetings of various descriptions, and to be able to offer 
 a few practical suggestions, which I trust may be of service on these as 
 well as on some less formal occasions, when a man may be called on to 
 "make a speech," as it is familiarly termed. I have just given you this 
 bare outline of the different subjects on which I propose touching in 
 my present course of Lectures this Session, in addition to those I have 
 always hitherto included, that you may see my endeavour has been to 
 make it as comprehensive as I possibly could in its application to all 
 members of my class, whatever may be their present or future vocations 
 in life. 
 
 Note. — While the second edition of these Lectures was going through the press, 
 a letter was received by me from a well-known American clergyman and professor, 
 now on a visit to our country, who, speaking of the Social Science Congress, then 
 being held at Bristol, and of the various papers which were read there, says — "Not 
 one speaker or reader in six could I hear without a painful effort which destroyed the 
 pleasure of hearing. All nearly seemed to be rivals in the ' unsocial science,' ho7v not 
 to be heard. But this does not apply to any of the practised speakers whom I heard, 
 and Canon Kingsley's address was a most excellent one in every way."
 
 LECTURE III. 
 
 How Elocution can best be studied — Analogy between the Study of Music and that of 
 Elocution — Quotations from the American Physiologist, Dr. Rush — General Description 
 of the Organs of Respiration — The Thorax or Chest — The Vertebrae, Ribs, and the 
 Diaphragm and Muscles concerned in Respiration — The Lungs — Physiology of Respira- 
 tion — Capacity of the Lungs — Results of Experiments made by Dr. Hutchinson — 
 The Trachea or Windpipe — The Bronchial Tubes — Mechanism of Respiration, 
 
 HAVE in my two preceding Lectures confined myself chiefly 
 to bringing before you the principal reasons why the art of 
 Elocution was one worthy the earnest attention of all persons 
 of education and refinement. Having, then, thus endea- 
 voured to show you why, I have next to show you how, 
 according to the best of my judgment and experience, this art can most 
 successfully be studied and acquired. 
 
 Supposing any one were desirous of acquiring the accomplishment of 
 singing, he would in the first place try to secure the services of some 
 master of eminence in the art. This master the student would diligently 
 attend ; he would be well drilled in the very first elementary principles ; 
 daily would he have to practise the Solfeggio, and pass through what 
 would seem at first long and weary courses of scales and other exercises 
 of the voice, before the master would permit him to try its power or com- 
 pass in any regular air or song. This he does, though he has scarce 
 anything to learn but the mechanical execution of what lies in the 
 visible form of notes of various descriptions before his eyes. Or, sup- 
 posing he were desirous of devoting himself to the study of the organ, 
 what months and years would he labour that he might know its compass, 
 and be master of its stops, and be able to draw out at will all its various 
 combinations of harmonious sound, and all its full range of richness as 
 well as dehcacy of expression ! Or again, if it were the piano which the 
 student had selected as the instrument for his study and practice, he 
 would, after being well grounded in the first elements of the science of 
 music, as he would of course be in all cases, no matter what instrument 
 he might choose, be then made acquainted with the mechanism of the 
 piano, and be shown the right method of eliciting the various notes, and 
 of increasing and diminishing their power and volume at pleasure, 
 together with the means by which the duration of the tones may be
 
 Lect. III.] KINGS COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 35 
 
 prolonged or abbreviated. A man knows all this well enough ; and yet, 
 strange to say, he will fancy that the grandest, the most varied, the most 
 expressive of all instruments, which the Creator has formed by the union 
 of an intellectual soul to the organs of voice and speech, may be fitly 
 played upon without any study or practice. He comes to it as a novice, 
 as an uninstructed tyro, and imagines that he can, while knowing 
 nothing of the delicate and marvellous instrument which produces human 
 voice and speech, yet be able to manage all its stops and command the 
 whole compass of its wonderful and comprehensive powers. Such a man 
 too often finds out his mistake at a time when the mortification of his 
 failure in public is most distressing to himself and most painful to his 
 audience. 
 
 There is a passage from the celebrated work on the voice by the 
 eminent x\merican physiologist, Dr. Rush, which I may well quote here. 
 After lamenting that, as a rule, at most colleges and schools the only 
 attempt at anything like training for public speaking or reading is the 
 annual series of recitations which takes place on what are termed the 
 Speech Days, when boys of fifteen or sixteen are sent on to the platform 
 without any instruction, as a rule, in Elocution, to act certain scenes and 
 recite certain orations, affording in general more amusement to their 
 schoolfellows than pleasure by their proficiency to the assembled friends 
 and auditors. " Now in contrast to this," says Dr. Rush, " visit a Con- 
 servatorio of music ; see the orderly tasks, the masterly discipline, the 
 unwearied superintendence and the incessant toil to produce the full 
 beauty and all the accomplishments of voice ; and afterwards do not be 
 surprised that the Pulpit, the Senate, the Bar, and the Chair of Medical 
 Professorship are filled with such abominable drawlers, mouthers, mum- 
 blers, clutterers, squeakers, chanters, and mongers in monotony." 
 
 These are strong terms, and in commenting upon them and some 
 other remarks made by Dr. Rush, a reviewer very pertinently says, " We 
 cannot leave our public institutions without taking notice, further, of 
 what seems to us the prodigious waste of study and talent which the present 
 systcni involves. Here and there a man, from some fortunate direction 
 of his mind, or strong natural propensity, or favourable situation, breaks 
 through the difficulties that keep down other men, and rises to a con- 
 siderable measure of eloquence, and becomes conspicuous in his neigh- 
 bourhood or in the country at large. But do we not know that there 
 are hundreds of others whose powers and acquisitions are equally good, 
 who think as clearly and feel as deeply, but whose talents are buried in 
 comparative obscurity ? who think eloquently, who feel that it is within 
 them to address eloquent thoughts to their fellow-men, but who can 
 never say with Sheridan, ' // shall come out ! ' It is not for want of study 
 that these men, the majority, fail. What years have they spent, and spent 
 all their substance too ; what days of toil and evenings of patient thought 
 have they pursued to the midnight hour ! The waning lamp has been 
 no romance to them, the fixed brow and the feverish pulse no poetry ; 
 they have toiled reckless of health and comfort ; they have kindled and 
 rekindled the fire within them, that has wasted away the strength and 
 prime of their youth ; and when they come to the crisis of their fate, when
 
 36 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. III. 
 
 they stand before the great public and are put to the trial in which they 
 are to rise or fall for this world, they find, alas ! that the very ofifice 
 which they have there to discharge is the office for which they are least 
 of all prepared. With all the sciences and arts they have laboured to under- 
 stand, they have never learnt the grand art of communication, the science 
 of Speech ; with all the languages they have mastered, they have never 
 learnt the language of eloquence ; and their acquisitions, their reason- 
 ings, the collected wisdom of sages, the gathered lore of centuries, sink 
 comparatively to nothing before the pretensions of some flippant de- 
 claimer. It is from this cause, no doubt, it is from want of this power 
 of communication, that preachers are so often unreasonably charged with 
 dulness. It is not always that the man is dull ; but it is that, being 
 placed in a situation for which he has not been properly trained, he 
 sinks into a mechanical habit from the very inabihty to give just and 
 natural expression to his emotions. Many and many a sermon has been 
 written (it is not too much to say) with burning tears, and when it came 
 to the delivery has been struck, as if by magic, with the coldness of 
 death, and he whose breast glowed with sacred fervour in the closet, has 
 appeared in the pulpit as cold as a marble statue. May we be permitted, 
 in passing, to suggest to our preachers and public speakers the propriety 
 — nay, the duty — of now paying some attention to this subject ? " 
 
 To this question of the reviewer surely all must answer in the affir- 
 mative. And then next arises another question — How can Elocution, 
 in the widest sense of the term, be best studied, practised, and ac- 
 quired ? I revert then to the analog)' which I drew at the beginning of 
 this Lecture between the student of the organ or the piano, and the 
 student who wishes to make the most effective use he can of his powers 
 of voice and speech ; and I say, acquire first a knowledge of the various 
 parts of the instrument you are going to use, and then you will have a 
 scientific basis for the art you are about to practise. 
 
 On these walls you see before you various large drawings and diagrams, 
 illustrating the anatomy and physiology of those several organs and 
 portions of the human frame which are concerned in the production of 
 voice, and the conversion of that voice into articulate speech ; and on 
 the right use of which depend so much the health, ease, and comfort of 
 the public reader, speaker, and preacher. The first of these drawings 
 to which I now direct your attention is that marked Fig. i. 
 
 Here you have a representation of the thorax or chest, which contains 
 and affords protection to the most important organs of respiration and 
 circulation. It consists, you see, of a portion of the backbone or spine, 
 the ribs, and the breastbone. I propose saying a few words in reference 
 to each of these portions of that bony framework which constitutes the 
 chest or box that contains the all-important organs to which I shall have 
 shortly more particularly to call your attention. 
 
 The spinal column, which you see here at the back part of the figure, 
 consists of twenty-four irregularly-shaped bones, forming together a long 
 tube which contains and protects the spinal marrow or cord — the most 
 important part of the nervous system. These bones, I should tell you, 
 have a slight rotary motion upon each other, whence they are termed
 
 Lect. III.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 37 
 
 the vertebm, from the Latin verto (I turn). Each is further connected 
 with the other by certain gristly elastic substances, which are called 
 the intervertebral cartilages. Now of these twenty-four vertebrcB of 
 which the spinal column is composed, seven belong to the cervix or 
 neck, and are termed the cervical vertebrce ; twelve constitute the 
 dorsum or back, and are called the dorsal vertebra ; and the remaining 
 five have received the name of the lumbar vertebrce, from lutnbus, the 
 loin. You will perceive that the dorsal vettebrce have each four articu- 
 lating processes, as they are termed, two transverse ones and a spinal 
 one. The two transverse processes stand out on each side, and serve as 
 places for the attachment of the ribs. 
 
 Fig. I. 
 
 Let us now pass on to the consideration of the ribs. In general, I 
 must tell you, we are furnished by nature with twenty-four, twelve on 
 each side ; but occasionally we meet with cases in which this normal 
 number of twelve ribs on each side is either increased or diminished by 
 one or two ribs. You perceive that the ribs are articulated behind with 
 the dorsal vertebra, and in front with the sternum or breastbone. 
 
 I suppose I need hardly tell you that the belief which some of the 
 uneducated classes still seem to entertain, that man has one rib less than 
 woman, arising no doubt from the narrative given in the Book of Genesis 
 regarding the formation of Eve, is simply a vulgar and absurd error. 
 The upper seven ribs, to which I am now pointing, are called the true or 
 sternal ribs, because they are immediately connected with the sternum, or 
 breastbone, by means of cartilages. In contradistinction to these upper 
 seven ribs, the lower five are called the false nh?,. The last two of these 
 ribs are floating, but otherwise they are supported by the breastbone, and
 
 38 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. III. 
 
 cartilaginous appendages attach the two floating ribs to each other and 
 to the one above. 
 
 The breastbone in early life consists of various pieces, of which two 
 can be distinctly seen even in manhood. You will see that its lower 
 extremity has an appendage bearing some resemblance to the end of a 
 sword. From this it has been termed the ensiform cartilage, from ensis, 
 a sword. It is not till quite an advanced period of life that this finally 
 ossifies. You will also notice that the breastbone has on either side 
 seven depressions. These are for the purpose of giving admission to the 
 cartilaginous extremities of the upper seven or true ribs. They are 
 not articulated with the spine at right angles, but take a slanting direc- 
 tion downwards, — an important modification, because upon this chiefly 
 depends what is termed costal respiration. 
 
 So much, then, for the osseous or bony portion represented in the 
 diagram. I must now speak of the muscles which carry on the function 
 of respiration. I may say, generally, that most of the muscles con- 
 nected with the trunk are indirectly concerned in aiding the function 
 of respiration ; but the direct muscles which regulate the respiratory 
 actions are the following, viz., the intercostals, the elevators of the ribs, 
 the triangular muscle of the breastbone, and the serrated muscles on the 
 back. All these are directly concerned in elevating the ribs so as to 
 enlarge the capacity of the chest. But I must tell you that the principal 
 agent in carrying on ordinary respiration is this to which I now point, 
 forming, as you see, a partition between the contents of the chest and 
 those of the abdominal regions. It is hence called the diaphragm, and 
 may be said to form X\\q floor of the chest, and the roof oi the abdominal 
 cavity. To the former it is convex in shape, and to the latter concave. 
 Though you often hear the diaphragm spoken of as a single muscle, it 
 really consists of two muscles and a central tendon. It is also worthy 
 of notice that the diaphragm takes a slanting direction from the breast- 
 bone to the loins. When in a state of relaxation, the lateral borders, 
 which are movable, present convex arches, which reach up sometimes as 
 high as the fourth rib. On the other hand, the arches, when in a state 
 of contraction, present nearly plain surfaces, by which the capacity of 
 the chest is increased to the same extent as it was previously diminished 
 by the diaphragm being relaxed. 
 
 It is right, however, that I should mention that a modern German 
 physiologist of considerable reputation, Herr Merkel, has expressed his 
 doubts whether the English physiologists have not attached too much 
 importance to the diaphragm as an organ of respiration. He considers 
 it to be not a direct but an auxiliary muscle in involuntary respiration, 
 though he admits it becomes active in voluntary respiration, and when in 
 consequence of disease the other respiratory muscles cannot easily act 
 
 Now, then, let us examine a little in detail what is for our purpose the 
 most important portion of the contents of the chest, or box, as the word 
 literally means. In this large diagram which you see before you, you 
 have a representation of the human lungs. (Fig. 2.) 
 
 You perceive that they consist of two bodies somewhat conical in 
 shape. They are situated within the lateral cavities of the chest, and
 
 Lect. III.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 39 
 
 are divided from each other by two layers of the pleura, which form a 
 membraneous partition called the medtcesteriiwi. Thus the lungs have 
 no direct communication with each other. Between them is situated 
 the heart. In front they are covered by the ribs, behind by the spine, 
 and their bases rest upon that muscular floor I have just spoken of, the 
 diaphragm. The weight of both lungs varies from thirty to forty-eight 
 ounces, and not only are they absolutely heavier in mian than in woman, 
 but also' relatively in proportion to the weight of the body : still they 
 are the lightest viscera in the whole body. Each lung is divided into 
 
 Pi^lit Cum . Carotid v ,. ^m -t ^^_,^,-^ LeftCom. Carotid 
 
 parts called lobes, and these again are composed of smaller lobes, or 
 lobules, as they are called. But the right lung is rather larger than the 
 left, and has three distinct lobes, while the left has only two, and presents 
 in its anterior border a deep notch, into which the apex of the heart, 
 enclosed in the pericardium, is inserted. It is not the least exaggeration 
 to say that the spongy substance of the lungs consists of millions of 
 microscopic air-cells, varying in the adult from J^ to -^^^ of an inch in 
 diameter. Indeed, by the eminent physiologist, Kiel, they were estimated 
 to be about a hundred and eighty millions ! I know scarcely any more
 
 40 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. III. 
 
 interesting object under a powerful compound microscope than a section 
 of the human lung. It is through the trachea or windpipe that the air 
 is conveyed into the lungs by means of the bronchial tubes, and thence 
 it is carried by means of still smaller vessels into ramifications, that at 
 last are of the most minute size. I shall speak more fully of the 
 mechanism of respiration subsequently, but I may just say at present 
 that the philosophy of respiration may be thus briefly explained. 
 
 The air, so long as we have life, is of course continually passing in 
 and out of our lungs, thereby oxygenating the blood, and then passing 
 out again. The impure venous blood and the chyle produced by the 
 digestion of our food are distributed over these millions of microscopic 
 air-cells I have just spoken of, by means of most minute vessels, called, 
 from their extreme fineness, the capillary vessels, from the Latin capilla, 
 a hair, and are derived from the pulmonary artery. They form a perfect 
 network over the surface of each of these air-cells. It is during the 
 circulation of the venous blood upon these air-cells that its properties 
 and colour, too, are completely altered. For whenever we take in the 
 air in the act of inspiration, as it is termed (and hence the great impor- 
 tance of good, deep, steady inspirations as regards health, especially 
 in a fresh, pure atmosphere), the blood and the air we breathe in are 
 divided only by a membrane so marvellously fine and delicate, that 
 while it is sufficiently thick to retain the blood, it yet allows the oxygen 
 of the air and the impure gases of the blood freely, as it were, to filter 
 through it ; and this, indeed, is the special vital property of the mem- 
 brane in question. A portion of the oxygen is received into the blood, 
 changing its character from venous to arterial, which transformation is 
 characterised by the colour of the blood passing from a dark purple hue 
 to a bright red. The remainder of the oxygen then combines with car- 
 bonaceous compounds of the blood to form carbonic acid gas, which 
 poisonous product is cast out in the act of expiration. And is it not 
 a marvellous thing to reflect upon, that it is in this very act of casting 
 out what is not only useless to the system, but a deadly poison if 
 retained, that we are endowed with the wonderful power of communi- 
 cating our thoughts to our fellow-creatures in articulate speech ? It has 
 always appeared to me a most striking instance of the Divine economy, 
 as worthy of admiration as the great problem which has been solved in 
 the structure of the lungs, viz., to expose the largest quantity of blood 
 to the contact of the air within the comparatively moderate space to be 
 occupied by the lungs. 
 
 It may not be uninteresting for me to mention some curious facts 
 arrived at by Dr. Hutchinson in regard to the capacity of the human 
 lungs for containing air. After extensive experiments made with the 
 instrument called the spirometer, he found that a male adult of an 
 average height can, after a complete inspiration, expel from the lungs 
 by a forced expiration no less than 225 cubic inches of air, at a tem- 
 perature of 60 degrees. Even after this forced expiration, 109 cubic 
 inches of air are still retained in the lungs, so that these two amounts 
 being added together will give 335 cubic inches of air as the total 
 capacity of the organs of respiration for air in the adult male of average
 
 Lect. III.] ON ELOCUTION. 41 
 
 stature. Dr. Hutchinson also found that the capacity of the lungs bears 
 a uniform relation to the height of the individual, increasing eight cubic 
 inches for every inch above five feet ; and, lastly, he discovered that 
 when we are sitting or lying down there is a considerable diminution in 
 the capacity of the lungs for containing air ; being in the former case 
 lessened from 260 to 255, and in the latter to 230 cubic inches. After 
 a hearty meal, too, the capacity of these organs is lessened from ten to 
 twenty cubic inches.* 
 
 And now, before I close this Lecture, let me say a few words in refer- 
 ence to the trachea or windpipe, and the bronchial tubes. You see that 
 the former is nearly a cylindrical tube, and forms the common air passage 
 to both the lungs. It is partly situated in the neck and partly in the 
 chest, and measures from about four to four and a half inches in length. 
 Its structure consists of from sixteen to twenty cartilaginous rings, con- 
 nected with each other by a ligamentous substance mixed with muscular 
 fibres. It is to be noticed that these cartilaginous rings are, however, 
 not quite complete, for they terminate behind in a muscular and liga- 
 mentous membrane, which, whilst completing the tube, admits yet of 
 compression. Loose cellular tissue surrounds the trachea, so that it can 
 move freely on the surrounding parts. You observe this other tube 
 behind it. This is called the cesophagus or gullet. It is the canal down 
 which all that we eat and drink passes. It is covered with a soft 
 membrane, secreting a mucous fluid, which defends the surface from 
 the acrimony of the air. 
 
 Now let us see the course which the trachea takes. You notice that 
 after it has passed down the neck it divides as it enters the chest into 
 two parts, one for each lung ; but you perceive they differ from each 
 other in size and direction. These two smaller tubes are called the 
 bronchi (from the Greek word ^ioy^og, the throat), and you will remark 
 that they differ from each other in size, and also in the course they take. 
 The right bronchus is shorter but wider than the left, and is usually 
 about an inch in length, while the left bronchus is nearly twice as long. 
 Their general structure resembles that of the trachea. The number of 
 rings in the right bronchus varies from six to eight ; in the left from nine 
 to twelve. Before penetrating the substance of the lungs, the bronchus 
 divides again into further branches, one being intended for each lobe of 
 the lungs. As they proceed, they still further ramify through the lungs, 
 becoming smaller and smaller, and the cartilaginous rings less and less 
 distinct, until finally they quite disappear, so that the air-cells in which 
 they terminate appear to be but an extension of the mucous membrane 
 which lines the bronchi. It is evident that the cartilaginous structure of 
 the trachea and bronchi serves to keep the air-passages open ; and it has 
 been suggested that if we do not find them in the minuter branches, the 
 probable cause is that they can never be completely emptied of air after 
 the first inspiration of " the breath of life " has been taken at the time 
 of birth. 
 
 Now, as the proper regulation of the act of respiration is one of the 
 most important things to be attended to by the public speaker or reader as 
 * Medico. Chi. Transactions, vol. xxix.
 
 42 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. III. 
 
 regards health and comfort in himself, as well as the effectiveness of his 
 delivery upon his audience, I think it right to enter somewhat fully 
 into a description of the mechanism of respiration. 
 
 Two distinct processes, dependent upon each other, constitute the act 
 of respiration. The one is called inspiration and the other expiration. 
 Let us examine these, in their order, a little in detail. We have seen 
 already that that movable frame, the thorax, is, by the action of its 
 muscles, capable of being enlarged transversely by the elevation of the 
 ribs, and vertically by the descent of the diaphragm. When we take a 
 full inspiration, the la>ato7-es costarum and the intercostal (and, in women 
 especially, what are termed the scaleni muscles) elevate the ribs. At the 
 same time the diaphragm descends as the ribs rise, which causes the ab- 
 dominal viscera to be pushed down. Thus the thoracic cavity is enlarged 
 in all directions ; the lungs expand in proportion, and a vacuum of some 
 extent is formed within their air-cells. A mechanical consequence follows. 
 The denser external air, possessing greater gravity than the air within 
 the chest, rushes through the nostrils into the trachea to occupy the 
 vacuum that has been formed, and with this ends the act of inspiration. 
 After this the intercostal and other muscles begin to relax, and gradually 
 the ribs are restored to their former position, partly by their own elasticity 
 and partly by the external pressure of the surrounding atmosphere. At 
 the same time the abdominal muscles react, and the diaphragm rises up, 
 and resumes its former position as the floor of the chest. The inflated 
 lungs contract, too, simultaneously ; the air that has by the former process 
 been taken in is now forced gradually out, and the thoracic cavity is 
 restored to its former dimensions, and so concludes the act of expiration. 
 Common experience will tell us how greatly the acts of inspiration and 
 expiration vary in degree. When, for instance, we are sitting quietly 
 studying or writing, respiration is performed almost entirely by the rise 
 and fall of the diaphragm, and we can scarcely perceive the movement 
 of the ribs. But now let us rise from our books or papers, and refresh 
 ourselves with a good, deep inspiration, and we shall at once find how 
 much more vigorously ribs, diaphragm, and all the muscles of respiration 
 are acting. Let us, as an experiment, try to inspire as much air as we 
 possibly can, and we shall feel that the diaphragm has now descended 
 to its lowest degrees, while the chest has, by the action of the various 
 muscles I have before spoken of, become enlarged to its utmost capacity. 
 It is just the same as regards the reverse process when we increase the 
 force and depth of our acts of expiration. Occasional exercises of the 
 organs of respiration in this way are very serviceable for giving them 
 vigour and flexibility of action, besides contributing to the general health 
 of the system : for there can be no question that the grand object of 
 respiration is, as we have already seen, the regular purification of the 
 blood, which, as it courses through the body, becomes charged with 
 noxious elements, that, if retained, would be absolutely destructive to 
 life ; but, by the blood being constantly brought into contact with the 
 air, the poisonous constituents of venous blood are eliminated, and 
 from the new elements, derived from the atmosphere, it is converted into 
 the pure, bright arterial blood. This is the primary result of respiration ;
 
 Lect. III.] ON ELOCUTION. 43 
 
 but there is another secondary effect, scarcely less essential to life and 
 physical well-being ; and that is the evolution of heat, or caloric, as it is 
 scientifically termed ; and this is produced chiefly, if not entirely, by the 
 chemical combination of the carbon of the blood with the oxygen of the 
 atmosphere. All this will show you how important it is in every way 
 that the lungs should be regularly and properly exercised. I have now, 
 then, finished all I have to say in regard to the organs and functions of 
 respiration, and in my next Lecture I hope more especially to bring 
 before you the subject of the vocal and speech organs, and to show you 
 how voice is produced, and afterwards converted into man's grand pre- 
 rogative — articulate language.
 
 LECTURE IV. 
 
 General Description of all the Vocal Organs and their Respective Functions, with Illustra- 
 tive Drawings — The Discoveries made by means of the Laryngoscope and its History 
 — Formation of Voice by the Vocal Cords — Results of the Experiments of Garcia, 
 Tiirck, Czermak, Sir G. D. Gibb, and others— Drawings of the Vocal Cords when 
 at rest in silent Respiration and when producing Voice — Change of Voice at Puberty — 
 Retention of the Effeminate Voice in Manhood, and proper Mode of Cure — Auxiliary 
 Organs of Voice — Voices of Animals — Quotation from Dr. Carpenter — Brief Summary 
 of the Articulating Organs. 
 
 [N my last Lecture I described to you fully the chest and those 
 respiratory organs which are subservient to the phenomena 
 of the voice. This evening I propose occupying your atten- 
 tion with an examination of the structure and functions of 
 those organs which are more immediately concerned in the 
 production of voice. 
 
 Let me, as I did on the former occasion, endeavour to render my 
 remarks the clearer by a reference to the drawings and diagrams before 
 you, and the first to which I call your attention is this, which is the 
 external appearance presented by the larynx. (See Fig. 3.) 
 
 And next I have to bring before your notice this, which represents a 
 section and exhibits the interior of the larynx. (See Fig. 4.) 
 
 And then this, which exhibits the interior of the air-passage in a larynx 
 and trachea slit down behind. The letters in the preceding drawing 
 refer also to this. (See Fig. 5.) 
 
 It is a most delicate, complicated, and important organ, for it is the 
 instrument that produces all vocal sound. You see it is situated in the 
 anterior portion of the neck, and rises out of the windpipe, and it con- 
 sists of five principal elastic cartilages, of which one is always very per- 
 ceptible to the eye, and two of them still more discernible through the 
 integuments that cover them by the sense of touch. Let us then 
 examine them in detail. The tube thus composed is itself called the 
 larynx. This cartilage, G, which you see here connected by ligaments 
 and membranes to the first ring of the windpipe, is called the cricoid, or 
 ring-shaped cartilage. It is, as you can feel by placing the finger on 
 your own necks just at that spot, very firm and solid in structure, serving, 
 in fact, as a substantial foundation for the parts above it. Above this you 
 notice a very marked cartilage. This is termed the thyroid, or shield-
 
 Lect. IV.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 45 
 
 shaped, cartilage. It is composed of two portions, which unite in front, 
 forming a decided protuberance in the throat of the full-grown man. It 
 has received the fanciful appellation of the pomum Adam/', or Adam's 
 apple, from the strange idea, or legend, that a portion of the forbidden 
 fruit stuck in his throat, and has in appearance been perpetuated in all 
 his descendants. The thyroid differs from the cricoid cartilage in this, 
 that it does not surround the larynx, but at the back presents at its 
 
 3 
 
 Fig. 3- 
 
 External aspect of the larynx, trachea, and thyroid gland, i. Thyroid cartilage. 
 2. Cricoid cartilage. 33. The superior horns of the thyroid cartilage. 4 4. The thyroid 
 gland. 5. The trachea. 6. Bifurcation of the trachea. 7. Subdivision of the bronchi. 
 
 extremities prolongations upwards and downwards, E and F. The 
 former are called its great horns, and are connected by ligaments to the 
 tongue-bone, while the latter are much shorter, and are connected by 
 muscles and ligaments to the cricoid cartilage. 
 
 Now, then, I come to two cartilages much smaller than the others, H. 
 They are named the arytcenoid or ewer-shaped cartilages, and are placed 
 in the highest part of the cricoid cartilage. In shape they are pyramidal, 
 and are so connected to each other and the other cartilages by muscles
 
 46 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. IV. 
 
 and membranes, as to be capable of motion in several directions. 
 These two cartilages are most important in regard to the production of 
 voice, for it is to them that the vocal cords, O, are attached. 
 
 And now, before I speak of thv'^se wonderful vocal cords and the way 
 in which voice is produced by them, I hope it will not be uninteresting 
 if I give you some account of the invention and means by which our 
 present knowledge of human vocal phenomena has been attained. The 
 subject has always been one of the greatest interest, especially to physi- 
 
 Fig. 4- 
 
 ologists ; and as early as the seventeenth century attempts had been 
 made, by means of artificial contrivances, to obtain a view of the more 
 deeply situated portions of the interior of the throat in the living human 
 subject. But no name, I think, calls for any special mention until we 
 come to that of Dr. Babington, who, at a meeting of the Hunterian 
 Society in March 1829, showed an instrument he had constructed for 
 rendering visible the interior of the larynx. It was, really, almost 
 essentially the same as the instrument that is now in use for that purpose,
 
 Lect. IV.] 
 
 ON- ELOCUTION. 
 
 47 
 
 and is thus described in the third volume of the " Medical Gazette," 
 at page 585 :— 
 
 " It consisted of an oblong piece of looking-glass, set in silver wire, 
 a long shank. The reflecting portion is placed against the palate, while 
 the tongue is held down by a spatula, when the epiglottis and the upper 
 part of the larynx became visible in the glass." 
 
 The impetus now seems to have been given to further improvements 
 and discoveries. In France, MM. Traupeau and Belloc published in 
 
 A. Great cornu of the hyoid bone. 
 
 B. Body of the os hyoides. 
 
 C. Small cornu of the hyoid. 
 
 D. Thyroid cartilage. 
 
 E. Upper cornu of the thyroid. 
 
 F. Lower cornu of the thyroid. 
 
 G. Cricoid cartilage. 
 
 H. Arytsenoid cartilage. 
 
 I. Cartilage of Santorini. 
 
 J. Crico-arytrenoideus posticus muscle. 
 
 K. Cuneiform cartilage. 
 
 L. Epiglottis. 
 
 M. Thyro-hyoid ligament. 
 
 N. Crico-thyroid ligament. 
 
 O. True chorda vocalis. 
 
 P. False chorda vocalis. 
 
 Q. Ventricle of the larynx. 
 
 R. Rima glottidis. 
 
 S. Sacculus laryngis. 
 
 T. Thyro-hyoid membrane. 
 
 U. Arytseno-epiglottid fold. 
 
 V. Arytsenoideus posticus muscle. 
 
 W. Interior of the trachea. 
 
 X. Muscular part of the trachea. 
 
 Y. Rings of the trachea. 
 
 Fig. 5- 
 
 1837 the result of the investigation they had made by means of an 
 instrument made by an ingenious mechanic of the name of Selligue, 
 and which they call a speculum laryngis ; and in 1838 M. Beaumes, of 
 Lyons, exhibited a mirror he had constructed for examining the throat, 
 larynx, and back of the nostrils ; while in England the names of the late 
 Mr. Avery and Dr. Warden should also receive honourable mention for 
 their efforts in the same direction. 
 
 But I must pass on now to a name that must ever occupy a very high 
 place in the list of those distinguished men who have, within the last
 
 4S KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV. 
 
 twenty years, not merely metaphorically, but lUerally, thrown so much 
 light upon the larynx. I mean M. Garcia, the celebrated teacher of 
 singing, and brother of the great prima donna of thirty years ago, 
 Madame Malibran. M. Garcia had for many years made the anatomy 
 and physiology of the larj'nx, as the organ of voice, a subject of con- 
 stant study, and had long felt a great desire to witness the mechanism 
 and movements of the organ of the human voice in the act of singing. 
 This he carried out successfully by a very simple plan, making his own 
 throat the subject of his experiment, when he was at Paris in September 
 1854. Standing with his back to the sun, he held a looking-glass in his 
 left hand before his face ; the sun's rays were thus reflected by the glass 
 into his open mouth. Then, having previously warmed a small mirror, 
 similar to that used by dentists, he placed it at the back of his mouth, 
 and then he saw reflected in the mirror his own larynx, with the vocal 
 cords in action as he sung an air. He next performed a series of ex- 
 periments in relation to the movements of the vocal cords and the 
 general action of the larynx in various persons in the act of singing, 
 with a view to determine the chest registers of the voice, and the means by 
 which the falsetto is produced. The result of M. Garcia's observations 
 were given by him in a very interesting paper entitled " Physiological 
 Observations on the Human Voice," which were read before the Royal 
 Society on May 24th, 1855, and which, if you desire to read (and well 
 will it repay perusal), you will find in the Proceedings of that Society for 
 the year 1855. Many important observations and discussions resulted 
 from the publication of this paper. The eminent physiologist. Dr. Tiirck, 
 of Vienna, became acquainted with this paper, and was induced by it to 
 use the laryngeal mirror in the wards of the general hospital of that city 
 during the year 1857, for the purpose of making a diagnosis in cases of 
 diseases of the larynx. In the autumn of that year he lent his mirrors 
 to Dr. Czermak, who very soon made a great improvement in the in- 
 vention. Hitherto sunlight had been the means employed for illumi- 
 nating the interior of the throat, which, of course, was not always to be 
 attained. He conceived the idea of adapting the ophthalmoscopic 
 mirror, designed by Ruete, for the purpose of concentrating and reflecting 
 artijicial light, thus making the laryngoscope, as he now termed his in- 
 strument, available at all times as a means of inspecting the larynx and 
 of guiding the hand in the application of local remedies. He also em- 
 ployed mirrors of various sizes and perfected them in every way. The 
 name of Czermak has ever since been prominently associated with what 
 is termed the art of laryngoscopy, though we ought not to omit men- 
 tioning, with high honour, the names of Sir G. D. Gibb, Dr. George 
 Johnson, and Dr. Mackenzie in our own country, and those of Battaille 
 and Merkel on the Continent. Czermak travelled over the best part of 
 Europe in order to make known his researches, and the views he held in 
 consequence. But with a most praiseworthy modesty he never failed 
 to give Garcia all the merit his originality deserved ; and the very first 
 essay Czermak published, which was in 1858, bore as its title "Physio- 
 logical Researches with the Laryngeal Mirror of Garcia," showing the 
 importance and value he attached to the experiments and researches of
 
 Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 49 
 
 the latter in thus giving his name to the mirror. That Garcia has a 
 rightful claim to originality in what is called auto-laryngoscopy, or the 
 means of inspecting one's own larynx, cannot, therefore, now, I think, 
 be disputed. Still, Czermak must have the just merit given to him cf 
 being considered the discoverer of the art of laryngoscopy in its appli- 
 cation to the diagnosis and treatment of diseases of the larynx ; and 
 he was also the first to practise the application of a somewhat similar 
 contrivance to rhinoscopy, or the inspection of the posterior recesses of 
 the nostrils. 
 
 I quite agree with the late Sir George Duncan Gibb, who has written 
 a most valuable and elaborate work on the laryngoscope,* where he 
 says that the experiments of Czermak are many of the most important 
 that have ever been, or are likely to be, made, and reflect the highest 
 credit upon the sagacity and genius of their originator. They are so 
 beautiful, and so physiologically true in relation to the human voice, 
 and help us so much to appreciate the pathology of vocalisation, that 
 we cannot be too grateful for them as they appear under the title of 
 " Observations on the Human Voice," in the Proceedings of the Royal 
 Society. Sir G. D. Gibb himself, in a lecture which he delivered on 
 the nth of March 1863, before "The Musical Society of London," 
 entitled " On the Influence of Musical and other Sounds upon the 
 Larynx, as seen by the aid of the Laryngoscope, illustrated by a large 
 number of coloured Diagrams," took the opportunity of acknowledging 
 how much we owed to Garcia, and stated that his researches, which 
 had given the first impulse to the study of laryngoscopy, had formed 
 the basis of experiments for all subsequent observers. 
 
 Now, then, let me show you in this diagram a general view of the 
 larynx, and of these vocal cords in particular, when they are in a state 
 of repose and silence. (See Fig. 6.) 
 
 Fig. 6. 
 
 View of the larynx in a state of repose and silence, as seen in the laryngoscope. 
 
 a. Upper or lingual surface of the epiglottis, b. Lip of the epiglottis on its laryn- 
 geal surface, c. Cushion of the epiglottis, d. Vocal cords, on the outer side of which 
 is a dark line, the entrance of the ventricles, e. Cricoid cartilage. /. Trachea. 
 g. Glosso-epiglottic folds, h. Aryteno-epiglottic folds. /. Regulator of the glottis 
 (false cord), k. Cartilage of Wrisberg. /. Capitulum Santorini, forming the apex 
 of the arytenoid cartilage, m. Arytenoid commissure. 
 
 * " The Laryngoscope in Diseases of the Throat." By Sir George Duncan Gibb, 
 Bart., M.D. Churchill & Sons, New Burlington Street. See also the two Lec- 
 
 D
 
 50 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV. 
 
 These two long narrow bands marked d d are the vocal cords, 
 extending, you perceive, from the angle of the thyroid cartilage to the 
 base of the arytenoid cartilages. They are always quite unmistakable, 
 for their colour is a brilliant, pearly, glistening white, sometimes partaking 
 of a tinge of grey, and, in the act of vocalisation, capable of the most 
 astonishing rapidity of movement. The average length of each of the 
 vocal cords in man is rather more than half an inch, in woman some- 
 what less. Miiller states that the relative lengths of the vocal cords in 
 the male and female larynx are as three to two, both in the relaxed and 
 in the extended state. As regards their structure, they consist of a 
 bundle of fine elastic tissue, covered with a thin mucous membrane. 
 You notice that each vocal cord has two free surfaces, one internal, 
 which looks to its fellow, and one above, where it bounds the ventricle ; 
 and the free edge between those two surfaces is the part that is made to 
 vibrate by the out-going current of air, as I shall explain to you shortly. 
 This diagram, then, shows you the position of the vocal cords when we 
 are silent, and you perceive that their vibrating edges are at a distance 
 from each other and divergent behind, and the air that we expire 
 passes by them, when we are in a state of health, without producing 
 any sound whatever. But now, in order that voice should be produced 
 either for speaking or singing, these edges of the vocal cords require to 
 be approximated and put parallel to each other by certain specific 
 muscles, which perform that office, and thus be placed in what is called 
 the vocalising position. This is instantly done at the command of that 
 marvellous and mysterious power — the human will. The expired air 
 
 Fig. 7. 
 
 View of the larj-nx during the act of phonation, as seen in the laryngoscope. The 
 same parts above the glottis are seen as in Fig. 6, only that the glottis is closed whilst 
 sounds are being uttered, and the larynx above the glottis forms a sort of hollow, with 
 the walls somewhat approximated. 
 
 a. Vestibule of the larynx, b. Capitulum Santorini, below which is the arytenoid 
 cartilage, c. Arytenoid commissure, d. Vocal process, e. Cornu of hyoid bone. 
 f. Pharyngeal surface of cricoid cartilage. 
 
 now puts the free edges of the vocal cords into a state of vibration, and 
 then sound or voice is immediately produced. The diagram I now 
 
 tures on the Laryngoscope, delivered at the Royal College of Physicians, by Dr. 
 George Johnson, Professor of Medicine in King's College. Hardwicke & Co., 192 
 Piccadilly.
 
 Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 51 
 
 show you exhibits the position of the vocal cords in the act of producing 
 voice. (See Fig. 7.) 
 
 Now, is it not a wonderful thing to reflect upon that all the exquisite 
 music, and the variety of notes we hear in the voice of a great singer, 
 and the expressive and delicate inflections and modulations of the voice, 
 which we hear in a great orator or actor, are mainly produced by the 
 condition and action of these two little cords, each but little more than 
 half an inch in length ? * 
 
 The more the vocal cords are relaxed, the lower is the note in the 
 musical scale, whether in song or in the inflections of the voice in Elocu- 
 tion ; and, on the contrary, the more they are tightened, the higher is 
 the note that is produced. Alterations in the degrees of tension in the 
 vocal cords are produced and caused by the action of specific and most 
 delicate controUing muscles. But the larynx also plays its part in the 
 production of all the varieties of notes in the musical scale. To produce 
 the deepest note of the voice, the larynx is depressed about half an inch 
 below its mean position, by which the aperture between the vocal cords 
 called the rima glottidis (or chink of the glottis) is opened in its whole 
 extent, and the tension of the cords is very slight. When the larynx is 
 in the lowest position, the voice not only takes its lowest note, but from 
 a diminished action of the air in its egress becomes scarcely audible. On 
 the other hand, when the voice ascends from the lowest to the highest 
 notes of the register of the chest voice, the larynx gradually rises until 
 it reaches half an inch above its mean position, and the aperture of 
 the rima, or chink, diminishes in breadth in proportion as the larynx 
 ascends, t 
 
 I find it is stated in "Once a Week " that "Dr. Marcet, of the Erompton 
 Consumption Hospital, has been examining the throat of one of the 
 Tyrolese singers who have lately been warbling at St. James's Hall, the 
 object of the inspection being to ascertain the physiological conditions 
 which produce the beautiful falsetto notes for which the Swiss artists are 
 celebrated. The observations were made by means of the laryngoscope. 
 It is pretty generally known that the human vocal apparatus consists of 
 a pair of membranes situated horizontally in the throat, and just touch- 
 ing at their edges. A drum head, with a slit across it, may convey a 
 popular idea of them. In the act of singing, the lips of these cords, as 
 they are called, are brought into contact, and they approach each other 
 throughout their whole length and remain parallel. When they are set 
 in vibration, by the passage of air through them, under these the ordinary 
 
 * A full report of Sir. G. Duncan Gibb's Lecture on " The Influence of Musical and 
 other Sounds upon the Larynx, as seen by the aid of the Laryngoscope," delivered 
 before the Musical Society of London, will be found in the Appendix. 
 
 t In November 1873, a wonderful operation was performed for the first time in the 
 annals of surgery in the chief hospital at Berlin, by Professor Billroth. The patient, 
 owing to malignant disease of the larynx, was utterly voiceless. After excising the 
 diseased portion, Professor Billroth supplied its place with an artificial larynx and vocal 
 cords, composed of indiarubber and metal. Voice and speech were restored to the 
 patient, though, of course, the voice had a very abnormal sound. A full account of 
 the operation, with a description and engraving of the artificial larynx, was published 
 Vy Dr. Gussenbauer, at Berlin, in 1874.
 
 52 AVjVG'S college lectures [Lect. IV 
 
 conditions, a full chest note is emitted ; but if they do not meet in their 
 entire length, either a posterior or anterior portion of them remaining 
 apart, the sound is no longer full, but feeble and shrill : the note emitted 
 is what the stringed instrument player calls a harmonic, and what the 
 singer calls a falsetto, or head note. The vioUnist who would bring out 
 a harmonic, so touches a string that, instead of making it vibrate as a 
 whole, he divides it into segments, each of which vibrates by itself, and 
 emits the note due to its short length, instead of that which the full 
 length of the string would yield. The same sort of thing seems to be 
 done by the falsetto singer : the adept can at will shorten his vocal cords 
 so as to pass instantly from any note to its harmonic. The muscular 
 process by which this transition is effected is not clearly made out, so 
 that it cannot be determined whether all singers are alike gifted with 
 powers of head-singing equal to the Tyrolese, or whether Alpine melody 
 grew out of peculiar capabilities of Alpine throats." I am indebted to 
 Dr. Gordon Holmes for the subjoined illustration from his " Vocal Physi- 
 ology," of the vocal cords in the act of producing the falsetto. 
 
 Fig. 8. 
 
 I have now, I think, given you a sufficiently full description of the 
 vocal cords and the functions they perform ; and to witness their move- 
 ments in the act of vocalisation by means of the laryngoscope, as I have 
 done repeatedly (and strongly advise you to do if you ever have the 
 opportunity), is certainly one of the most wonderful and interesting 
 sights that can be imagined. 
 
 I mentioned just now the rima gluttidis, or glottis, as it is usually 
 called, and told you it is the narrow interval or chink between the vocal 
 cords. Its extent is greater than that of the cords, for it reaches across 
 the larynx. It measures from before backwards usually nearly an inch, 
 and across at the base, when dilated, about one-third of an inch in men, 
 but in women and boys less. During inspiration the space is larger 
 than in expiration. It forms two changes with its dilatation. In a state 
 of rest the interval resembles in shape a spear-head, with the shatt 
 placed backwards ; when dilated it is triangular in form, the base of 
 the interval being behind. It is provided with wonderfully delicate 
 muscles, by which it is contracted or expanded, and assumes, according
 
 Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 53 
 
 to circumstances, a great variety of shapes. At that period of life when 
 the boy becomes the young man, and the girl becomes the young 
 woman, a marked change takes place in the size of the glottis, as well 
 as in the character of the tone produced by the vocal organs. Usually, 
 in less than a year at this period of life, the opening of the glottis in- 
 creases in man in the proportion of five to ten, its extent being doubled 
 both in length and breadth. In woman the change is not so remarkable 
 in character ; her glottis usually increases in the proportion only of 
 about five to seven, which at once accounts for the much greater change 
 which takes place at this time in the voice of man. As the glottis 
 enlarges with the progress of years and the continual practice, on sound 
 physiological principles, of public speaking, or reading aloud, the voice 
 becomes stronger, fuller, and deeper. In woman, the voice always 
 remains comparatively weaker and higher in pitch, her glottis being, 
 according to the eminent physiologist, Richerand, a third smaller than 
 in man. Sometimes w^e meet with instances of men retaining in mature 
 life the effeminate, cracked, falsetto, disagreeable voice which marked 
 the period of puberty. In almost every case where there is no organic 
 defect or malformation, a single course of lessons under a good elocu- 
 tion master, acquainted with the anatomy and physiology of the organs 
 of speech, will remove the evil. The epiglottis is the uppermost of 
 the five elastic cartilages forming the larynx, and its office is to direct 
 the expired sound, and to open and shut like a valve the aperture of 
 the exterior glottis. 
 
 Such, then, is a brief description of the larynx and its functions, and 
 these are manifestly so highly important in connection with the produc- 
 tion of voice, that the necessity is apparent to all, that care should be 
 taken by every one, but especially by the public speaker or reader, to 
 avoid contracting bad habits in speaking or reading, which may in any 
 way injure so wonderful and delicate an organ. 
 
 I have now to speak of what I may term the influence of the auxi- 
 liary organs on the voice. The variation of the length of the trachea, 
 as the prefixed tube, seems to have but little influence on the note pro- 
 duced in the larynx. It is admitted, however, that the elongation of 
 the superadded tube above the glottis facilitates, by the descent of the 
 larynx, the production of low notes, while its shortening, by the ascent 
 of the larynx, favours the production of higher notes. 
 
 There are two little cavities, readily seen in many persons as dark 
 lines on the outer margin of each vocal cord, between the latter and 
 the regulators of the glottis. These are called the ventricles of the 
 larynx. Sir G. D. Gibb says it is a curious fact that in most negroes a 
 view can be obtained of their interior, from the obliquity of their position 
 in that race. The chief office assigned to these cavities is to afford 
 sufficient space for the vibration of the vocal cords. The ventricular 
 sacs, moreover, appear to supply the vocal cords with the requisite 
 amount of moisture while they are vibrating. The French physiologist, 
 Savart, maintained that the air may vibrate in the ventricles, indepen- 
 dently, and may produce sounds in such cases, when the other elastic 
 parts are incapable of sufficient tension.
 
 54 
 
 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. IV 
 
 Let me now ask your attention to this diagram, to which I shall have 
 to refer not merely in this Lecture, but when I come to speak of articula- 
 tion and impediments of speech. (Fig. 9.) 
 
 Fig. 9. 
 
 Median section of the head ; F, frontal bone ; S, frontal sinus ; B, bone of the nose ; 
 C, cartilage of the nose ; A^, external nostril ; U, upper spongy bone ; ^f, middle 
 spongy bone ; L, lower spongy bone ; O, occipital bone ; V, vertebrae ; F, the spinous 
 processes; i to 12, the cranial nerves; 13, the spinal cord; 14, superior maxillary 
 bone; 15, hard palate; 16, soft palate; 17, uvula; 18, tonsil; 19, tongue; 20, 
 frsenum ; 21, genio-glossus ; 22, genio-hyoideus ; 23, hyoid bone ; 24, palato-pharyn- 
 geus ; 25, epiglottis; 26, hyo- epiglottic ligament ; 27, hyo-thyroid ligament ; 28, supe- 
 rior ligament of the glottis ; 29, arytenoid cartilage ; 30, inferior ligament of vocal cord; 
 31, thyroid cartilage ; 32, cricoid cartilage ; 33 33, incisors ; 34 34, lips. 
 
 It represents, you see, a sectional view of the human head, from the 
 central line at the top of the skull to where the larynx terminates. 
 Now, much of the resonant quality of the voice is influenced, not merely 
 by the state and size of these ventricles of the larynx, of which I have 
 just spoken, but by the dimensions and condition of the fauces, the oral 
 and nasal cavities, and the development of those hollows in the long 
 part of the forehead, marked S, and which are called ihe frontal sinuses. 
 The eminent physiologist, Professor Owen, is of opinion that that want
 
 Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 55 
 
 of resonance for which the voices of the natives of Australia are so 
 remarkable, is most probably owing to the fact that the frontal sinus 
 is not fully developed in that race. It may thus be considered that 
 the parts above the glottis, in regard to the production of these secon- 
 dary vibrations of sound which we term resonance of the voice, serve 
 (to use the comparison of the late Dr. Hunt) the office of a short 
 speaking-tube. 
 
 Much also depends on the proper expansion and position of the 
 chest, for when this is rightly carried out, not only can you then hear 
 the vibrations of the voice in singing or speaking, but if you place your 
 hand on the chest, you can actually 7^1?/ that the whole cavity of the 
 thorax is resounding within. 
 
 The influence of the epiglottis, too, must not be passed over un- 
 noticed. When it is pressed down, so as to cover the larynx, vocal 
 sounds are rendered deeper and rather duller. Miiller states, " in 
 uttering deep notes, we evidently employ the glottis in this way ; such, 
 at least, seems to me the object of the depression of the tongue, when, 
 endeavouring to produce very deep notes, we press down the head." 
 
 An eminent Italian physiologist, Bennati, remarks that the soft palate 
 rises and assumes an arched shape in the formation of low notes, and 
 sinks in those of higher notes. 
 
 The uvi4la keeps its normal position in the lower notes of the voice, 
 but nearly disappears from sight in the production of the highest notes. 
 The importance of this organ in regard to the tone of the voice is very 
 considerable; for if it be of unusual size or deficient in contraction 
 power, the purity and power of the voice are greatly impaired. Accord- 
 ing to the same authority, the tonsils also swell and approach each other 
 when high notes are being produced.* 
 
 Dr. Carpenter, to whom we are indebted for one of the best works on 
 mental physiology, as well as physiology generally, when treating in his 
 "Principles of Physiology" of the degree of precision with which the 
 muscular contraction of the glottis can be adapted to produce a designed 
 effect, says, " The natural compass of the voice in most persons who 
 have cultivated the vocal organs, may be stated at about two octaves or 
 twenty-four semitones. Within each semitone, a singer of capability 
 could produce at least ten distinct intervals ; so that the total number, 
 240, is a very moderate estimate. There must, therefore, be 240 diffe- 
 rent states of tension of the vocal cords producible by the will ; and, as 
 the whole variation in the length of the cords is not more than one-fifth 
 of an inch, even in man, the variation required to pass from one interval 
 to another, will not be more than tsVt)^'^ °^ ^" inch. And yet this 
 estimate is much below that which might be made from the performance 
 of a practised vocalist. It is said that the celebrated Madame Mara 
 was able to sound 100 different intervals between each tone. The com- 
 
 * Since the above was written, I have had the privilege of seeing a most ingenious 
 working model of the larynx, just designed (1875) t)y Mr. Edmund J. Spitta, late 
 demonstrator of anatomy at the school of St. George's Hospital, illustrating his view 
 of its various movements, and constructed by Mr. Hawkesley. A full description of 
 it will be found in the Appendix.
 
 56 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IV. 
 
 pass of her voice was at least three octaves or twenty-one tones ; thus the 
 total number of intervals was 2100, all compressed within an extreme 
 variation of one-eighth of an inch ; so that it might be said that she 
 was able to determine the contractions of her vocal muscles to nearly the 
 seventeen-thousandth part of an inch." 
 
 The late Dr. Hunt stated in 1859 that some physiologists have endea- 
 voured to calculate the changes of which the human organ of voice is 
 capable, on the assumption that the number of changes must at least 
 equal the number of muscles employed. Considering that at least seven 
 pair of muscles belong to the larynx, and that they can act singly, or in 
 pairs, or in combination with the whole, or with part of the next, they 
 are, according to Dr. Barclay's estimate, capable of producing upwards 
 of sixteen thousand different movements. When to the proper muscles 
 of the larynx are added those attached to the cartilages and hyoid bone, 
 which may act independently, or in co-operation with those of the larynx, 
 the estimate would have to be very largely increased. But as all the 
 respiratory muscles have directly or indirectly an influence in the pro- 
 duction of the voice, the changes which they are capable of producing 
 in the relative position of the vocal organs will scarcely admit even of 
 an approximate calculation. The number of movements of which the 
 vocal apparatus is susceptible, and the variety of tone which it can 
 produce, may indeed be said to be beyond conception. 
 
 To students who may be desirous of investigating more fully and 
 minutely the nature and action of the mechanism of the larynx in pro- 
 ducing all the various elements of voice and speech, I recommend very 
 strongly the admirable translation by Mr. Lennox Browne of the elabo- 
 rate and interesting work by the eminent physician. Dr. G. J. Witkowski, 
 of Paris, so fully and copiously illustrated, that no less than one hundred 
 and forty-nine different parts of the throat and tongue are pictorially 
 brought before the eye of the reader, and fully described by the author, 
 and to which the translator has added some most valuable and original 
 notes and observations.* 
 
 Before I leave the subject of the vocal organs, it may not be un- 
 interesting to you, especially in these days, when Professor Huxley's 
 Lectures, Darwin's " Origin of Species," " Descent of Man," and 
 other works, have drawn popular as well as scientific attention so 
 much to the various points of resemblance and difference between the 
 anatomy and physiology of man and animals, if I touch briefly on the 
 voice of animals, and the mode by which it is produced. In all the 
 mammalia, the general structure of the larynx resembles that of man. 
 The power and peculiar character of the cries or sounds made by 
 various animals, such as the roar of the lion, barking of the dog, lowing 
 of cattle, or bleating of sheep, &c., depend on different degrees of de- 
 velopment of the vocal cords, and some peculiarity of structure in the 
 larynx and other organs ; for instance, the " howling " or " preacher 
 monkey," of South America, though by no means large in size, yet 
 possesses a voice which is capable of being heard at a distance of more 
 than two miles. This extraordinary intensity and power of voice is 
 
 * Published, price los. 6d., by Bailliere, Tindal, & Cox, King William Street.
 
 Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 57 
 
 produced by certain pouches connected with the larynx, and to a large 
 drum-like development of the hyoid bone.* On the other hand, those 
 animals which are wholly silent, such as the giraffe and armadillo, owe 
 their inability to produce any sound to the fact of their possessing no 
 vocal cords. If you wish to enter more fully into the interesting subject 
 of the voice of animals, I would refer you to the works of Carpenter, 
 Darwin, Cuvier, Lehfeldt, and Brandt, the latter of whom has treated 
 especially of that order which has the closest resemblance to man — 
 the quadrtimana. 
 
 Birds differ most remarkably from all other classes in their vocal 
 organs, in the fact that they possess a double larynx, that on the top of 
 the trachea being partly cartilagenous and partly osseous, and its chief 
 function that of regulating the function of respiration. The lower 
 larynx, whence solely the voice of birds has its origin, is situated at the 
 bottom of the trachea, and is formed by several of its lowest rings. It 
 varies greatly both in form and structure, and possesses special muscles 
 by which the distance between the vocal cords may be either lessened 
 or increased. Just as we find certain of the mute mammaHa without 
 any vocal cords, so we find rare instances of voiceless birds, such as a 
 few of the vulture tribe, that possess no lower larynx. The birds of 
 song that so delight us with their melody, have no less than five pairs 
 of muscles that act upon their vocal cords ; and, moreover, possess at 
 the inner edges of each compartment of the larynx an additional mem- 
 braneous fold, called, from its shape, the semi-lunar membrane, which 
 is of relatively considerable size in parrots, magpies, and other birds 
 that can be taught to speak. My authority for all these statements is 
 the eminent French physiologist, M. Savart, and to him I refer you, 
 if you wish to enter more fully into all the curious and interesting 
 particulars and differences in the vocal mechanism of birds. 
 
 When we descend to reptiles and the amphibia, we find the larynx of 
 the mammalia, as it were, in a rudimentary condition, and their vocal 
 organs, in regard to structure, exhibit considerable difference. The 
 roar of the alligator, and the croaking of the frog, are alike produced 
 by the vibration of their vocal cords ; but snakes possess no vocal cords, 
 and, consequently, can only produce a hissing sound, which is caused 
 by the air being forced out through the narrow opening of the glottis. . 
 The French naturalist, M. Hanle, has given a very elaborate descrip- 
 tion of the anatomy and physiology of the various families of reptiles, 
 particularly in regard to their vocal organs. 
 
 Most fishes are mute, with certain very rare exceptions, of which the 
 mackerel is one, for, if taken out of the water and seized with the hand 
 by the lower part of the body, it produces a kind of moaning sound, 
 which is caused by the friction of the bones of the larynx, as, indeed, 
 may be distinctly seen, says Dr. Hunt, if its mouth be opened.' 
 
 With regard to the sounds produced by insects, such as crickets, 
 
 grasshoppers, bees, &c., the quaint remark of the French naturalist, M. 
 
 Goureau, is generally applicable, that they are rather to be considered 
 
 as imisicians than singers. With most of them the sounds they produce 
 
 * Humboldt's Zoological Observations, vol. i. p. 9.
 
 58 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [I.ect. IV. 
 
 are caused either by the friction of their wings together, or their almost 
 inconceivably rapid vibration in the act of flight ; but the German 
 entomologist, Burmeister, has demonstrated that in many of them, such 
 as bees, wasps, and flies, the sounds which they make are not caused 
 solely by friction, but by the air also passing rapidly through the tho- 
 racic air-holes. Some insects, too, like the death-watch, cause a sound 
 resembling the ticking of a watch by striking against wood or other 
 hard substances with their horny mandrils, which is generally believed 
 to be a noise made for the purpose of attracting the mate ; and others 
 of the grasshopper tribe, such as the male cicada of Brazil, can, through 
 the agency of certain internal organs with which they are provided, 
 produce sounds which can be heard at an enormous distance, con- 
 sidering the minute size of the creature by which they are caused. 
 The chief organ that forms this sound appears to be a strong elastic 
 membrane that is stretched across a cavity, acted upon by opposing 
 bundles of muscular fibres ; and the resonance of the sound is further 
 increased by external plates ; and, to quote the words of Dr. Carpenter, 
 '' so effectually do they act, that a certain cicada of Brazil is said to be 
 audible at the distance of half a mile, which is as if a man of ordinary 
 stature possessed a voice that could be heard all over the world." 
 
 The subject of articulation is necessarily connected so closely with 
 that of the formation of voice, that perhaps it ought to be discussed 
 next in point of order ; but, as I shall have to enter very fully into the 
 nature of the various articulating organs and their respective functions, 
 when I come to treat of the different kinds of impediments of speech 
 and defective articulation, I shall reserve this portion of our inquiry 
 until that occasion ; only remarking, for the present, that by the arti- 
 culating or enunciative organs, are meant those organs by which the 
 stream of sound is so modified and acted on, after issuing from the 
 larynx, as to produce the several letters which are the elements of 
 human speech. A vowel is a simple sound formed by the impulse of 
 the voice only, by the opening of the mouth in a particular manner, 
 whilst a consonant is an interruption of the vocal sound, arising from 
 the application ot the organs of speech to each other ; and all the 
 articulating organs are found in the mouth, and consist of the tongue, 
 the lips, the uvula, and soft palate, which are movable, and the gums, 
 'teeth, and bony palate, which ^xq fixed. 
 
 But we have yet to inquire what is that organ by which the mind, not 
 only conceives ideas and the language in which those ideas shall be 
 clothed, but exercises the power of calling voice into existence, and by 
 means of influencing the muscles which move tongue, lips, and other 
 articulating organs, forms the various letters, and produces man's highest 
 prerogative — the gift of human speech ? This dominant organ is the 
 brain, and the light that has been thrown upon its various mental and 
 physical functions by very recent scientific researches and discoveries, 
 has been of the most marvellous and important character. It has now 
 been ascertained, says Dr. Julius Althaus, in his most deeply interesting 
 article on " The Functions of the Brain," which appeared in the " Nine- 
 teenth Century" for December 1879, P- 1023, that \.\\q medulla oblongata
 
 Lect. IV.] ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 59 
 
 contains the nerve-centre which controls the formation of articulate 
 speech, that is, the pronunciation of vowels and consonants in such 
 fashion as to form words. These facts are well illustrated by the symp- 
 toms of a peculiar disease which, although it has no doubt always 
 existed, has only recently attracted the attention of the medical world, 
 and which consists in a wasting away of those nerve-cells in the medulla 
 which preside over the functions just named. As the disease progresses, 
 more and more letters of the alphabet become lost, the vocal cords 
 become at length paralysed, and voice ultimately is completely lost. 
 "But one of the most suggestive results of recent researches," continues 
 Dr. Althaus, at p. 1028, "has been to show that the faculty of intel- 
 ligent language, as distinguished from articulate speech, is situated in 
 that portion of the hemispheres of the brain, which is called the third 
 left frontal convolution, and its immediate neighbourhood. We have 
 already seen that the pronunciation of letters and words is effected in 
 the lowest portion of the brain, viz., the mediilla, but this, and all the 
 other inferior organs concerned in speaking, form only, as it were, the 
 instrument on which that small portion of the brain's surface, which I 
 have just named, is habitually playing. Lower centres are able to hear 
 spoken words, and to see written words, but the intelligent appreciation 
 of the connection which exists between words and ideas, and the faculty 
 of expressing thoughts in sentences — that is, what the Greeks called 
 ' logos ' — only reside in the third left frontal convolution. This dis- 
 covery was foreshadowed by Gall, but actually made by Broca." Well 
 indeed may such discoveries as these be given in illustration of the 
 remark of the late Charles Kingsley, which I quoted in my opening 
 Lecture, that, "to the minute philosopher, few things seem more 
 miraculous than human speech." 
 
 Note. — In a most interesting article by Mr. J. G. Romanes on "Animal Intelli- 
 gence," which appeared in the "Nineteenth Cefttury," for October 1878, he says : 
 "So that all our lines of evidence converge to one conclusion, viz., that the only 
 difference which analysis can show to obtain between the mind of man and the mind 
 of the lower animals, consists in this — that the mind of man has been able to develop 
 the germ of rational thought, whic'' is undeveloped in the mind of animals, and that 
 the development of this germ has been due to the power of abstraction which is 
 rendered possible by the faculty of Speech. I have therefore no hesitation in CTivin"- 
 it as my opinion that the faculty of Speech is alone the ultimate source of that 
 enormous difference which now obtains between the mind cf man and the mind of 
 the lower animals." If this be so, it is no wonder that in the earlier history of mankind, 
 we continually meet with divine powers attributed to Speech. The idea of Speech as 
 a divine emanation or energy first arose in the human mind in India. There can be 
 traced continually in the old Sanscrit literature a deification of Speech, and this idea 
 wherever it spread seems to have exercised a fascination on mankind.
 
 LECTURE V. 
 
 Respiration and the proper mode of Managing the Breath in Public Reading and 
 Speaking — Dr. Morell Macl^enzie — Dr. Shuldham — Mr. Lennox Browne — Mr. 
 Lunn, &c. 
 
 N my preceding Lecture I endeavoured to give a general 
 description of those portions of our frames which play so 
 important a part in the formation of the voice and the 
 articulation of the speech. In this Lecture I have to make 
 you acquainted with what, from my own experience, as well 
 as the testimony of others, seems the best way of using this wonderful 
 and complicated vocal machine, so as to enable it to discharge all its 
 various functions in such a manner as will not only afford pleasure and 
 satisfaction to our hearers when we read or speak, but, at the same 
 time, will contribute most to our own personal health and comfort. 
 
 I quite agree with a well-known physician,* when he says, " It is 
 certainly great inconsistency to lavish all our care and attention in stor- 
 ing the mind vfith knowledge, and yet make no provision for cultivating 
 the medium by which this knowledge may be made available to others." 
 It is now, while the vocal organs are flexible, and the whole frame exults 
 in the fresh and elastic vigour of early manhood, that you may cultivate 
 the art of speaking, reading, and other branches of elocution, with such 
 comparative ease to yourselves and such advantage to others. Now is 
 the season when you can most profitably bestow attention on the cultiva- 
 tion of the voice, and the improvement of delivery, as well as the cor- 
 rection of those faults of accent and intonation, which in general spring 
 from ignorance, inattention, or instinctive imitation. In a word, as I 
 have said before, so now I say again with all emphasis and earnestness, 
 the human voice, with its wonderful and varied powers, its infinite and 
 delicate shades of expression, ought to have as much care and attention 
 as we bestow on the development and cultivation of any of our other 
 faculties. 
 
 From what I have observed in my own experience as a Public 
 
 Lecturer in this College, as well as a private teacher of the art of Public 
 
 Reading and Speaking, I really think few persons out of the medical 
 
 i:)rofession reflect on the enormous space which the lungs occupy in 
 
 * Dr. Mackness on " Dysphonia Clericorum."
 
 Lect. v.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 6i 
 
 our frames, and how all-important their sound and healthy condition 
 is to us. To nearly all those who soon break down from physical exhaus- 
 tion after reading or speaking, I would say : — " How much of your lungs 
 do you think you habitually use in this same act of breathing ? " A 
 very limited portion, I fear ; in fact, just that portion which lies at the 
 upper part of the chest, and no more : and what is the result when you 
 attempt, thus breathing, to read or speak for any length of time ? I fancy 
 I can tolerably well describe what you experience. Do you not find that 
 your breath very soon becomes exhausted, and being again taken rather 
 hastily, and not sufficiently deep, the results which ensue are the follow- 
 ing, with more or less aggravation according as the natural constitution 
 is more or less robust : you feel a sense of weight at the chest, of general 
 oppression, exhaustion, and weariness, and very possibly other and more 
 alarming symptoms. And can you wonder at these disastrous conse- 
 quences not unfrequently following ? Can you feel surprised that your 
 health should suffer by so wrong an exercise of such an important organ 
 in the system ? I want to impress upon you that proper breathing is 
 healthy breathing ; and that reading aloud, speaking, and singing are, 
 when correctly performed, ??iost healthful, invigorating, and beneficial exer- 
 cises to the body as well as to the ?nind. If, however, from habit or inatten- 
 tion, you do not as a rule properly inflate the lungs, why, ^portion only, 
 instead of the whole, is brought into play, and the portion so overworked 
 often pays the penalty for the additional labour imposed upon it, while 
 the great mass of the lungs, being left unused and uninflated, is often 
 marked by morbid symptoms of various kinds, which lead to serious 
 diseases, of which the " clerical sore throat " is the most common. 
 
 Now, then, on this head alone, viz., the right management of the 
 breath in respiration generally, but especially when reading aloud or 
 speaking in public, there is much to be said. It is, in the first place, 
 highly important that the speaker or reader should, both for the sake of 
 complete ease and freedom in the performance of the function of respira- 
 tion, as well as for the influence of those secondary vibrations of the 
 upper portion of the trunk of the body, place himself in the best position 
 for the discharge of the task he has undertaken — the position that is 
 most favourable for speaking at the same time with energy and personal 
 comfort. What, then, is this position ? It is, in fact, just the attitude in 
 which the drill-sergeant would make you stand — the chest thrown fully 
 open, and kept properly expanded by the shoulders being thrown back 
 and the head held easily erect. Do not here misunderstand me. I do 
 not mean to assert anything so absurd as that a man should always stand 
 in the same position. But the speaker ought to have a normal position 
 to which he habitually returns after every brief deviation from it. These 
 deviations may sometimes be for relief, by a slight change in the atti- 
 tude, sometimes for the sake of expressing some particular emotion. But 
 I again strongly urge upon you that this is to be the normal and habitual 
 position ; because it is that which is the most favourable for the full and 
 free inflation of the lungs in consequence of the expansion of the chest ; 
 and also for the production of those secondary vibrations which tend 
 to increase the power and volume of the voice. Above all things, then.
 
 62 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. v. 
 
 avoid the habit which so many men have, who have never received any 
 training in the art, or at all considered the subject, of advancing on a 
 platform to the railings in front, leaning upon them with one or both 
 hands, and making that their normal position. With the larynx and, 
 chest so contracted, nothing can be more ungraceful and nothing more 
 destructive to all energy and freedom in speaking. 
 
 Mr. Lennox Browne says very truly that the lungs may be primarily 
 expanded or inflated in three different ways, viz. : — (i.) By pressing 
 them downward against the lower wall, which is purely muscular and 
 elastic, and has on its opposite or inferior side soft and yielding parts. 
 In this manner the shoulders remain unmoved, and the chest-walls 
 are gradually dilated from below upwards. (2.) By pressing the lungs 
 outwards against the more or less elastic framework of the ribs. In 
 this method also the upper part is not brought into movement. (3.) By 
 drawing the lungs upwards with the collar-bone (clavicle) and shoulder- 
 blades (scapula), those parts which are fixed in the first and second 
 methods. 
 
 The first WMy is called the abdominal or diaphragmatic (after the 
 muscles which regulate the movement) ; the second is known as the 
 lateral, or better, as the costal (costa, a rib) ; the third as the clavicular, 
 or scapular. All breath-taking, alike in speaking, reading, singing, and 
 in ordinary life, should be diaphragmatic or abdominal. Inspiration 
 should commence by the action of the abdominal muscles, and the 
 descent of the diaphragm — in other words, by pushing forward the 
 
 Fig. 10. Fig. II. 
 
 walls of the abdomen and chest. As the lungs inflate with the descent of 
 the diaphragm, the inspiration, being prolonged, becomes lateral, and 
 the ribs expand on all sides equally, but the shoulder-blades and collar- 
 bone still remain fixed.* If respiration be further and unduly pro- 
 
 * I advise all who wish to have a clear knowledge of the process of respiration, 
 and indeed of vital functions generally, to study the admirable "Science-Primer on 
 Physiology " of Professor Michael Foster, or the "Elementary Lessons" of Professor 
 Huxley, both published by Macmillan.
 
 Lect. v.] on elocution. 63 
 
 longed, it becomes clavicular ; but clavicular breathing is a method 
 totally vicious and to be avoided. By it the whole lower part of the 
 chest is flattened and drawn in, instead of being distended ; consequently 
 the lower or larger part of the lungs is not inflated. It is a method 
 never exercised by nature in a state of health, but only when from 
 disease, either the abdominal or chest muscles cannot act ; and it is 
 the method least efficacious in filling the lungs, as it is the one calculated 
 most to fatigue the chest ; for it compresses the vessels and nerves of 
 the throat, and this leads to engorgement and spasmodic action of the 
 muscles. The lateral method is more commonly exercised by women 
 than by men, and is, to some extent, considered necessary to them ; 
 for in women the siernum or breast-bone is always pushed more forward 
 than in men ; but it is an error to suppose that the clavicular method is 
 ever necessary to either sex in a state of health. (See Figs. 10, 11.) 
 
 The above diagrams illustrate the varying capacity of the chest, 
 according to the method in which the lungs are inflated. The front 
 outline A, of the shaded figure represents the chest after complete 
 expiration ; the black continuous line B gives the increase in size of the 
 chest and the descent of the diaphragm, indicated by the curved 
 transverse lines, in full abdominal respiration. The dotted line C, shows 
 the retraction of the diaphragm and of the abdominal muscles in forced 
 clavicular inspiration. The varying thickness of the line B, indicates 
 the fact of healthy breathing in man being more abdominal than in 
 woman. The outlines of forced inspiration in both sexes are remark- 
 ably similar. 
 
 In sleep or repose respiration goes on with regularity ; but in speaking, 
 or singing, there is always a certain struggle between the inspiratory and 
 expiratory muscles. It is clear that, as the elasticity of the opposing 
 parts is least in the clavicular, and greatest in the diaphragmatic respira- 
 tion, the resistance is in the same relation greatest in the former method, 
 and consequently the fatigue experienced by this method is in propor- 
 tion increased.* 
 
 In regard to expiration in speaking and singing, which is not less 
 important than the act of inspiration, Mr. Lennox Browne very justly 
 remarks that " the expiration should be equally easy, not wasted, jerky, 
 or in gasps, but steady and gradual ; for it is on the extension combined 
 with the regularity of expiration, that the intensity or power, the steadi- 
 ness and duration, of vocal vibrations depend. And here it may be 
 remarked that he is the best singer (and it is almost needless for me to 
 add the best reader and speaker also) who can so control the expiration, 
 that the least possible amount of air sufficient to cause vibration is 
 poured with continuous effect upon the vocal organs.! Hence, as one 
 so well knows, the greatest singers appear to have an inexhaustible 
 supply of breath. The method of respiration I have indicated as the 
 
 * " Medical Hints on the Management of the Sintring Voice," by Lennox Browne, 
 F.R.C.S., pp. 14, 16. London: Chappell & Co. Price is. 
 
 t The direction of Senor Garcia, to practise his voice with a lighted candle before 
 his mouth, is known to many. If the flame be extinguished, or even wavers, it is a 
 si^n that too much air is being expended.
 
 64 KINCS COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. V. 
 
 natural, and therefore the best, was the one taught by the Italian school 
 of the last century. There is just as much teaching of what may be 
 called the decorations of the voice in the present day as then ; but the 
 art of forming a solid basis of voice by long exercise on a right method 
 of breathing, seems to be almost lost, or, if not lost, is overlooked.* 
 
 Dr, Shuldham, in his valuable and interesting work on "Clergyman's 
 Sore Throat," takes precisely the same view of what constitutes true and 
 healthy respiration ; for, in language quaint but forcible, he says, " Here 
 are the lungs waiting to be stocked with air, warehouses ready to be 
 filled in, basement first, or second story : there are the cranes, pulleys, 
 and ropes ready to do the storage. Which is the most important part 
 of our warehouse — which will stretch most to accommodate the goods ? 
 Why, the basement. The bases of our lungs fill best, most easily, and the 
 parts below the bases are the most accommodating : therefore that form 
 of breathing called by some authors the abdominal, and by others the 
 diaphragmatic, is the one which should be adopted for all physiological 
 reasons. The bases of the lungs rest on soft, yielding structures. The 
 tliaphragm is a large muscle that separates the lungs from the abdominal 
 viscera : it is, in fact, a kind of lift between the upper story of the chest 
 and the lower story of the abdomen ; but, though it constantly goes 
 below into the abdomen, it only carries the same passengers, and these 
 are the lungs. When we take in a deep breath, the lungs expand and 
 down goes the diaphragm lift, with the lungs resting on the upper 
 surface ; when we let out air from the lungs, up goes the lift, and carries 
 back its passengers quietly and with great care. 
 
 " But there are other ways of breath-taking besides the use of this 
 muscular lift. There is the lateral or costal method, or breathing by the 
 ribs, and there is the clavicular or breathing by the collar-bones. Now, 
 when we mark out all these methods specially, we do a right thing, for 
 we individualise the methods and draw attention to the physiology of 
 breathing ; but truly there can be no breathing by the diaphragm without 
 some use of the ribs and the muscles that set those ribs in motion ; 
 therefore these two forms verge into each other, only with this difference, 
 that the use of the diaphragm should be thought of first, and the use of 
 the ribs should be an after-thought in this great act of breathing. In 
 the effort to fill the lungs with air we find that as there is less opposition 
 to lung expansion from below, than from the bony corset above and at 
 the sides, therefore to breathe by the diaphragm is less fatiguing, and 
 also allows of greater lung expansion. Can we hesitate, then, to choose it ? 
 
 " The breathing by clavicle or collar-bone is wrong in every way, and 
 we believe that really it is not often put into practice, for one good 
 reason, viz., because it is a difficult method and requires great muscular 
 effort. As the apices of the lungs are encased by unyielding upper ribs 
 and stout muscular tissue, we can at once see that lung expansion in 
 this upper story can never be great, nor easy of management, and 
 therefore breath-taking by the collar-bones should never be practised, as 
 its results are disastrous to health and voice production. It leads to 
 muscular strain, inartistic use of voice, weakness, and finally perhaps to 
 
 * Ltnnox Browne's " Medical Hints on Management of the Singing Voice," p. 17.
 
 Lect. v.] • ON ELOCUTION. 65 
 
 loss of voice, with irritation of pharynx, and thus to ' Clergyman's 
 Sore Throat.'"* 
 
 Nor are Dr. Shuldham's remarks in regard to the necessity of pro- 
 perly controlling the expiration of breath, in order to produce the best 
 effect when reading, speaking, or singing, less true and appropriate ; for 
 he says: — "The breathing should be handed to the care of the diaphragm 
 and ribs, and therefore ribs and diaphragm should again do their service 
 in driving out the air from the lungs. Both processes require judgment. 
 To take in breath is to provision one's self; to let out breath is to part 
 with one's stock. Unless the lungs are well provisioned with air, we 
 cannot carry on the business of speech or song effectively ; and unless 
 we part with our stock with judgment, our respiratory affairs become 
 embarrassed, and in desperate cases become bankrupt. In plain 
 English, an artist must learn to expire, to part with breath, just as much 
 as to inspire or take in breath. His inspiration should be quietly made, 
 without effort and without sound ; the shape of the mouth should in 
 the very act of speaking be moulded in harmony with the different 
 vowel sounds. The head should be erect, the muscles of the neck free, 
 the shoulders thrown back, the chest thrown forward, and both chQst 
 and abdomen free from all restraint of tightly-fitting dress. Then, as 
 the air is rightly taken in, the muscles of the abdomen should relax, 
 and the speaker or singer should almost feel the diaphragm descending, 
 the ribs rising, and the abdomen filling out. I say almost feel : he 
 should never he. painfully conscious of this act of breath-taking, as thfn 
 it will become at once a forced muscular effort. Instead of a second 
 nature acquired by art, it will, by arresting the speaker's attention, 
 interfere with the perfect finish of his speech or song. The breath- 
 taking should never be spasmodic nor hurried. This comes of too 
 frequent inspirations and lack of art ; this leads to the panting sounds 
 of inelegant speakers ; this brings about rapid fatigue of voice, and 
 sooner or later develops the symptoms of ' Clergyman's Sore Throat.' 
 The speaker or singer should regulate his inspiration according to his 
 subject, his phrase, his power ; his provision of air should not be too 
 scant, nor yet should it overload his lungs. In very deep and pro- 
 longed inspiration, there is a tendency to part with the air too suddenly, 
 as the muscular power that raised the ribs is being counterbalanced by 
 those muscles that lower the ribs ; for there is a constant interchange 
 of force going on when breathing in and breathing out. If the act of 
 inspiration is too prolonged, the act of expiration will be shortened ; and 
 what a speaker or singer looks for, is perfect harmony of adjustment, a 
 balance that shall never be so rudely disturbed as to interfere with the 
 practice of his art. I feel that this point has not been sufficiently 
 dwelt on by writers on Elocution or Singing. The faults of too frequent 
 and spasmodic inspirations have been pointed out over and over again, 
 and the invariable lesson given has been ' Inspire long and deeply.' 
 A good lesson, in truth, but it has its dangers, and I feel it is right to 
 point them out. We would say, ' Inspire long enough for the musical 
 
 * Dr. Shuldham on " Clergyman's Sore Throat," i2mo, pp. 42-44. London : 
 Gould, Moorgate Street. Price 2s. 6d.
 
 66 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. V. 
 
 or elocutionary phrase that is to follow the breath-taking, not long 
 enough to fatigue the lung tissue or the inspiratory muscles.' Yes, 
 truly ' fatigue ; ' as, though the strain is but short-lived, yet, if continued, 
 it leads to this condition. 
 
 " The expiration should also be easy and without effort. When the 
 air leaves the lungs to be converted into sound, there should still be no 
 strain, no visible effort ; but the sound should flow out evenly, and 
 without any consciousness on the artist's part of his possessing a larynx 
 to warble through, or a pair of bellows to propel the sound. There 
 should be even less effort in breathing out sound than there is in 
 breathing in air. The artist may be, and must be, conscious of purity 
 and intensity of sound, but this must be produced without visible 
 muscular effort. All swelling of the veins of the neck and of the 
 forehead, and all getting red in the face, point at once to the use of 
 clavicular breathing and lack of art in voice production." * 
 
 We can hardly bestow too much attention, or devote too much time, 
 to a full investigation and thorough comprehension of this most im- 
 portant branch of our subject ; for, as Mr. Charles Lunn says in the 
 fourth edition of his very interesting and suggestive little work on "The 
 Philosophy of Voice" t (which I strongly recommend to every student of 
 the art of singing or speaking) : " Voice production affects the pulpit, 
 the platform, the forum, and the stage ; and the principles of restora- 
 tion should be known to every national school teacher throughout 
 the kingdom, and especially should they be known to every medical 
 practitioner; for voice production embraces a far wider sphere than 
 music, and penetrates where the latter never enters. It is said that 
 ' prevention is better than cure ; ' by true use of voice, chest disease in 
 many who have its tendency could be successfully warded off ; and this 
 because a greater consumption of carbon takes place, quickening 
 circulation, and hastening digestion ; so that true speakers and singers 
 feel only hunger after work. Surely, as a question of health, the voice 
 should be cultivated collaterally with the culture of words ; both spoken 
 words and vocal tone should grow up together, but each power should 
 be taught in its specific mode. While medical men have often recom- 
 mended the healthful exercise of song, they have not (with rare excep- 
 tions, I would remark), made their word of the worth it might be made, 
 by troubling to go deeper into the question and deciding what work is 
 right work ; this they should now do. We know how important it is to 
 change the air we breathe, so that what we take in be not vitiated ; 
 how much more important, then, that the air within us be pure, and not 
 potable poison ; yet all cannot be thoroughly vitalised within us, unless 
 we take violent bodily exercise or obtain true use of voice." Further 
 on, Mr. Lunn states that, in his opinion, " the whole gist of study may 
 be summed up thus : Hold the breath on deep inflations ; by ceasing to 
 will to hold. Nature sets the instrument in accurate action ; let the 
 involuntary pressure continue the sound ; and by repeated use in such 
 manner, the instrument will, in time, become habituated to right action^ 
 
 * Dr. Sliuldham, pp. 47, 48. 
 t Baillifere, Tindal, & Cox, King William Street, Strand, London. Price is. 6d.
 
 Lfxt. v.] on elocution. 67 
 
 — a servant to our wills, instead of a tyrant crippling and frustrating our 
 desires. It is strange that exactly at the same time German assumption 
 was doing its utmost to destroy the little known in voice training, a 
 medical man should be making experiments in Edinburgh, which 
 ultimately resulted in the greatest scientific discovery affecting the 
 science of voice production that has ever been put before the public, 
 and which discovery conclusively supports, from a scientific point of 
 view, the teaching of the ancient school of song. Dr. Wyllie's explana- 
 tion of the use of the false cords and the ventricles gives the true 
 solution to the right use of voice, the air in the ventricles acting some- 
 what analogously to the air which a trumpet-player imprisons in his 
 cheeks ; the greater reservoir of air keeps the lesser one always full, and 
 the control of measured force from the greater is dependent upon the 
 fulness of the less, this simply owing to the distribution of nerves. 
 Now, no man can speak or sing with perfect self-possession and 
 accurate response to will, unless he has masterful control over the 
 respiratory apparatus ; and no man can have this control, unless his 
 organs of voice be rightly used — a corroborative proof, being the 
 connecting link between Dr. Wyllie on the one side and Senor Garcia 
 on the other, is found in the fact that sound can be whispered at the 
 false cords, the air escaping in an elongated hiss, while the true cords, 
 being open, do not vibrate. The breath under these conditions is held 
 back in sustained escape, and is consumed in about the same time as 
 it would be consumed were a vocal tone accompanying it." * 
 
 Dr. Shuldham's remarks on this subject are well worthy of being 
 quoted. He says : " When the breath-taker wishes to convert the air 
 stored within his lungs into musical sound or intelligent speech, then 
 comes ' the tug of war ; ' the expiratory muscles are engaged in driving 
 out musical air, whilst the inspiratory muscles are busy in making the 
 expulsion as slow as possible ; there is a muscular antagonism going on, 
 and this Dr. Mandl in his interesting work, ' L'Hygiene de la Voix,' 
 calls the ' lutie vocal/e,'' or vocal contest. We can see, therefore, that to 
 make the contest as even as possible, and as little fatiguing as possible, 
 in speech or song, the abdominal breathing should be adopted, for this 
 allows the lungs to be fully expanded without laying extra stress on the 
 intercostal muscles, and lets the shock of this ' vocal contest ' fall on 
 the soft parts of the abdomen, which yield to pressure, rather than 
 letting all the violence of the ^ lutte vocaie' fall on the hard and less 
 yielding structures of the bony thorax. If the pressure is taken off the 
 chest-structures, other parts concerned in voice production will suffer 
 less, as, for instance, the larynx and pharynx ; there will be consequently 
 less fatigue of voice complained of by the use of abdominal breathing, 
 and ' Clergyman's Sore Throat ' may be written about but not pre- 
 scribed for. 
 
 " In the exclusive use of the lateral method of breathing by the help 
 
 of rib movements, or of the clavicular method, i.e., by the help of the 
 
 collar-bones, we shall find that the ' vocal contest ' will make itself 
 
 severely felt, and the evil consequences of these methods of breath- 
 
 * Lunn's Philosophy of Voice, pp. 67, 68.
 
 68 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. V. 
 
 taking will be fatigue of voice, irritation of pharynx, aching of chest-walls, 
 and oppression of breathing ; and these several symptoms will eventually 
 lead, if the vicious method is persevered in, to hoarseness, congestion 
 of pharyngeal mucous membrane, glandular inflammation in the whole 
 vocal tract, partial lung congestion, asthma, and even heart disease. 
 
 " Here is a sufficiently long train of ills which follow the use of badly- 
 managed respiration. With the knowledge of these facts before us, is 
 it not wise to use this knowledge and avert the disastrous results ? An 
 incident in the life of Talma, the great French tragedian, is worth 
 relating : it points a moral on the art of taking breath. It is quoted 
 from M. Legouve's ' L'Art de la Lecture,' a little book full of interest 
 and instruction to all who value the reader's art. It is as follows : — 
 ' When Talma was still a young man, he was acting in Diderot's Pere 
 de Famille. After the delivery of the celebrated passage, " An income 
 of fifteen hundred a year, and my Sophie," he left the stage and went 
 behind the scenes, exhausted, out of breath, and leaned against a side 
 scene, panting like an ox. "Idiot !" said Mole, looking at him, "and 
 you want to play tragedy ! Come and see me to-morrow morning, and 
 I will teach you how to personate passion without getting out of breath."- 
 Talma called on him, but whether the master failed in patience, or the 
 pupil in docility, we cannot tell ; at any rate he only half profited by the 
 lesson. About the same time there was an actor of the name of Dori- 
 val, a ypare, weakly fellow, without any power of voice, yet nevertheless 
 he played tragedy with a certain amount of success. " How can the 
 wretch do it ? " said Talma ; " I am ten times as strong as he is, and yet 
 he tries himself ten times as little as I do. I will ask him his secret." 
 Dorival put off the question with the gently sarcastic reply, which, by the 
 way, smacked somewhat of jealousy : " You are so successful, M. Talma, 
 that you do not require any lessons." " I will make you give me some, 
 for all that," whispered Talma to himself 
 
 " ' One day, as Dorival was playing Chatillon in Zaire, the young man 
 (Talma) hid himself — where do you think ? — in the prompter's box, so 
 as to see and hear unobserved. There, crouched in obscurity like a 
 "beast of prey in its den, he watched every movement, took note of it, 
 looked, listened, and after the famous declamatory speech in the second 
 act, left the box, exclaiming, " I have it, I have nailed him " {je Pat pince). 
 What had he discovered? That Dorival's whole art consisted in a 
 certain talent for taking breath before the lungs are completely emptied 
 of air (I copy one of Talma's own notes) ; and to prevent the public 
 from noticing these frequent inspirations, which would have marred the 
 even tenor of his speech, and arrested the current of his emotions, he 
 made use of them especially before the A, the E, and the O sounds, 
 that is to say, at the time when his mouth being open, he was able to 
 breathe lightly without the audience perceiving it.' 
 
 " Talma might, it is true, fill his lungs completely and control the man- 
 agement of his breat^h, but it is clear that he had by his observations 
 only discovered part of the secret and <-he golden rule of all, the 
 disclosure of which we owe to a great English tragedian, as we 
 shall shortly see, and without which the right art of managing the
 
 Lect. v.] on elocution. 69 
 
 breath is only partially acquired, aj-jDears to have been unknown to the 
 French tragedian." 
 
 Dr. Shuldham's closing remarks in this chapter are well worthy of 
 being quoted. "We see," he observes, "what an important part respira- 
 tion plays in the art of speaking. Its rules are the only ones which 
 should never be violated. The actor once launched forth in a passage 
 full of movement, carried away by emotion, by anger, by tears, may 
 forget the laws of punctuation, set aside full stops and commas, but he 
 must always be master of his breath, even at the very time when he 
 seems to lose it. A good actor has no right to be out of breath, except 
 for dramatic effect. Talma had reduced all these rules to one emphatic 
 maxim : ' The artist who fatigues himself is but an indifferent artist.' " * 
 
 * Dr. Shuldham, pp. 50-53.
 
 LECTURE Vr. 
 
 Testimony of ihe late Rev. A. S. Thelwall— Quotation from the Rev. J. Hewlett's 
 Work on "Reading the Liturgy" — "The Great Secret" of Respiration, and the 
 history of its transmission — Extracts from the recent Works of Mr. Sergeant Cox 
 and Professor Frobisher — Sanitary advantages resulting from the Mode of Respira- 
 tion here described— Testimony of George CatUn, the North American traveller — 
 Emmanuel Kant and De Quincey — Causes and cure of "Clerical Sore-Throat — 
 " Dr. Shuldham — Dr. Abbotts — Control of the Breath in Expiration— Opinions of 
 Professor Hullah and Mr. Kingsbury — Summary rules for the management of 
 respiration in Public Reading, Speaking, and Singing. 
 
 OW, then, I come to a subject of paramount importance in 
 every way, the right mode of managing the breath in speak- 
 ing or reading. Nothing can be more hurtful to the pure 
 quality of the voice, and nothing scarcely more injurious to 
 the larynx and the lungs, than the habit of gasping in the air 
 without any system or method by the open mouth. Take this as a golden 
 rule, that the breath should, not merely when reading or speaking, though 
 then I hold it indispensable, but at all times, and under all circumstances, 
 be taken into the lungs only through the nostrils. I assure you most 
 earnestly that if there be any tendency to disease or weakness of the 
 hings or of the laryjtx, trachea, or bronchial tubes, the observance of this 
 rule is of vital importance to health — nay, I am sure I am not going too 
 far when I say it is in some extreme cases a matter almost of life or 
 death. Believe me, that almost all the injury which clergymen and 
 public speakers do themselves in the discharge of their duties in the 
 church or on the platform, arises from this very common, but most erro- 
 neous, habit of gasping or pumping in the air through the open mouth. 
 This habit of taking in the air only through the nostrils has very great 
 and very many advantages, and I have also reason to know, that this 
 great but simple rule in respiration has not only been regarded in the 
 light of a grand secret, but actually sold as such by some teachers of 
 elocution under a promise — nay, in some cases under an oath of secrecy, 
 as if it were peculiar to theinselves. I cannot do better here than read 
 you a letter on the subject in my possession, written in the year 1861, 
 by my late friend, the Rev. A. S. Thelwall, who was the first appointed 
 Lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking in this College, and who ful-
 
 Lect. VI.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION 71 
 
 filled all the duties of his office here, from his appointment by the Council 
 in the beginning of the year 1850, till his death fifteen years ago. The 
 letter places the matter in its true light, and contains so many excellent 
 hints that I make no apology for reading it to you in fiiU. 
 
 " The importance of the habit of taking in the breath only through the 
 nostrils, on which Mr. Brock insists in his letter of October 2, cannot 
 be well overrated ; but I beg leave to observe, that though Mr. Broster 
 might make a great secret of it, and exact a promise, if not an oath of 
 secrecy, from those to whom he imparted it, the rule itself, for more 
 than half a century, has been no secret. It was insisted upon by my 
 late father, and imparted by him to all his pupils from the year 1802, 
 when he first began to give instruction on elocution, really scientific, 
 both by public lectures and by private lessons. I myself learned from 
 him to form the habit at that early period, and I have adhered to it (and 
 felt the very great advantage of so doing) ever since. I have imparted 
 it to several of my brethren in private ; and in my Lectures at King's 
 College (commencing in the beginning of the year 1850), T have always 
 given it great prominence ; and I have explained the importance of it 
 very fully, on what every medical man would acknowledge to be scientific 
 principles. Moreover, I have openly expressed my conviction that this 
 was the rule, which (as a great secret, and even under an oath of secrecy) 
 was sold at a considerable price, not by Mr. Broster only, but (as I under- 
 stand) by more than one teacher of elocution besides. Some medical 
 men, looking at the subject on merely medical principles, and in a 
 medical point of view, have seen the importance of the same rule, and 
 enjoined the strict observance of it upon their patients; so that, in the 
 medical profession, it has certainly been no secret. 
 
 " I would add that (excellent and important as this rule is) there are 
 other rules connected with it which need to be observed in order to 
 insure the full benefit of it, — such as the taking and keeping of that 
 position which is most favourable to the free and full inflation of the 
 lungs ; and taking advantage of every legitimate pause to take in a 
 fresh supply of air ; for, in whatever way the speaker may take in his 
 breath, if he goes on speaking to the end of it, his speech will become 
 both laborious and inaudible. Moreover, if he be not carefi'lly atten- 
 tive to distinct articulation, the best mode of managing the breath will 
 not suffice to make him intelligible to any large portion of his congre- 
 gation. 
 
 "In short, it ought to be well understood, that really good speaking 
 depends on constant attention to various rules, and to agreat number of 
 minute particulars. And at least nineteen persons out of every twenty 
 require judicious instruction and careful training — and persevering ap- 
 plication on their own part, — in order to make them good readers. I 
 know by my own experience and observation that all these three things 
 are indispensable — except in some very extraordinary cases. And it is 
 a well-known historical fact, that the greatest orators have attained to 
 excellence only by great exertions and persevering toil. So that, while 
 it has been said, '■Foeta nascitiir, non fit,' it might almost be said, on 
 the contrary, ' Orator fit, non ?iascitur.' He must, indeed, have some-
 
 72 A'/NG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VI. 
 
 thing in him for instruction and labour to work upon ; but Demosthenes 
 was not born a rhetorician. — I remain, &c., 
 
 "A. S. Thelwall." 
 
 You notice here, that Mr. Thelwall speaks of this mode of conducting 
 the process of respiration having for a long time been kept and sold as a 
 great secret by certain teachers of elocution. The late Rev. J. H. Howlett, 
 who was for many years Chaplain of Her Majesty's Chapel at Whitehall, 
 and an excellent reader, published shortly before his death an admirable 
 little work on clerical elocution, entitled " Instructions on Reading the 
 Liturgy," and in the preface to it, at page 21,* occurs the following 
 passage : — " A suggestion for diminishing the exhaustion produced 
 by loud speaking, reading, and preaching has lately been brought into 
 public notice, and is so very i77iportant that it ought to be made known to 
 all who wish to acquire the best management of the voice, and it is this, 
 inhale always through the nostrils, instead of through the open mouth. 
 The breath, when drawn through the mouth, absorbs the saliva, and 
 renders the palate and fauces dry and clammy. This unpleasant effect 
 is commonly felt on awaking in the morning by those who sleep with 
 their mouths open, either through a cold in the head, peculiar position 
 in bed, or through natural obstruction in the nostrils. In the case of 
 the speaker, reader, or preacher, the dryness of the mouth renders more 
 exertion necessary and increases the fatigue. The cause of this fact was 
 for many years not duly noticed, and the knowledge of it was the great 
 secret, which became very profitable to a late eminent and successful 
 teacher, who communicated it only under solemn promise that it would 
 not be revealed." Mr. Howlett was one of my old and valued friends, 
 and in the course of conversation once gave me the history of the origin 
 and transmission of this "secret" in elocution, which, as I have never 
 yet seen it in print, may not be uninteresting to you, if I take the oppor- 
 tunity of relating. 
 
 In the early part of the present century, there was a very eminent 
 tragedian of the name of George Frederick Cooke, who at one time 
 seemed likely to be a formidable rival even of John Kemble himself 
 Among other qualifications for success in his profession, Cooke pos- 
 sessed a singularly powerful, melodious, and expressive voice, which, 
 even after great exertion on the stage, never showed any signs of 
 hoarseness or symptoms of flagging, and this, too, although it was 
 notorious he led a life by no means characterised by prudence or tem- 
 ])erance. Eventually, the scandal his irregular life created drove him to 
 America, where he died. His conduct had afienated nearly all his old 
 friends ; but in his last illness he was attended and kindly cared for by a 
 brother-actor of the name of Broster. Cooke, shortly before his death, 
 while lamenting his lack of means to leave any pecuniary bequest as a 
 proof of his gratitude for all Broster's care and kindness, told him that 
 he yet thought he could leave him something, which, if well " worked," 
 would be the means of bringing him a large remuneration. He then 
 communicated to Broster the secret, telling him that he had found by 
 
 * " Instructions on Reading the Liturgy." By the Rev. J. H. Howlett. T. Murby, 
 32 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street.
 
 Lect. VI.] ON ELOCUTION. 73- 
 
 always carrying on respiration through the nostrils he avoided any sense 
 of fatigue to the vocal organs, however arduous his performance, and 
 believed it was the means by which he had been able to preserve all 
 the power and compass of his voice. He then advised Broster to return 
 to England, and adopt the profession of a teacher of elocution, and 
 only communicate the secret to his pupils on the payment of a large fee 
 and a solemn promise, if not an oath, that it never would be divulged 
 by them. As soon as Cooke was dead, Broster followed his friend's 
 advice, and came to this country and announced himself " Professor of 
 Elocution," soon had a large ch'eniele, realised a handsome income, and 
 eventually was able to retire upon an independence to the Isle of Wight, 
 where he died. One of the students in my class here last year told me 
 a curious circumstance connected with Broster, which I think will amuse 
 you. My pupil said he had been mentioning to a very old friend, the 
 widow of a clergyman, the account I had given him of Broster and his 
 success, and which I have just now been relating to you, when she said, 
 "Well, the next time you go to King's College, you can tell your Lecturer 
 something more about Broster which he may not know. When my hus- 
 band was a very young man, more than sixty years ago, and about to 
 enter into holy orders, he went to Broster for the purpose of receiving 
 from him lessons in elocution, when, before the secret was disclosed, 
 Broster not only made him pay the heavy fee he demanded, and give 
 the required pledge that it should never be revealed, but made him sign 
 a bond that in the event of his ever becoming a Bishop he should pay a 
 further fee of a Jumdred guineas, and this was a course, Broster said, 
 which he adopted with all his clerical pupils ! " Shortly before his death, 
 Broster imparted the secret to his friend, John Thelwall, who had been 
 just then acquitted of a charge of sedition. Thelwall, therefore, relin- 
 quished the troubled career of a political agitator in those stormy times, 
 and betook himself to the more quiet life of a lecturer and teacher 
 of elocution, and became very eminent and successful in his new voca- 
 tion. He communicated the secret to his son, the late Rev. Algernon 
 Sidney Thelwall, who on his father's death carried on his profession, 
 and, as I told you, was the first lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking 
 ever appointed in this College. From the first session he lectured within 
 these walls,. he disclosed what was once guarded so rigidly to all his 
 pupils, freely and unreservedly, deeming, as he said, this mode of always 
 carrying on respiration to be so exceedingly important, not only as 
 regarded elocution, but general health, that he desired to make it as 
 widely known as possible. It was from Mr. Thelwall that I first acquired 
 it ; and there is not a single advantage which he said would follow from 
 adopting the practice that I cannot most heartily confirm. 
 
 Indeed, the matter has now quite ceased to be a secret. In a very 
 useful work written by Mr. Serjeant Cox, entitled " The Art of Writing, 
 Reading, and Speaking," * I find in a passage treating on the right man- 
 agement of the breath, at p. 96 of the second edition, the following 
 remarks : — " There is an art in breathing properly, and it consists in 
 breathing always through the nostrils, and not through the mouth. The 
 * Published by Horace Cox, Wellington Street, Strand.
 
 74 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VI. 
 
 uses of breathing through the nostrils are many. The air is filtered in 
 its passage by the hairs that line the nostrils, and the particles of dust 
 floating about are thus prevented from touching the sensitive organs of 
 the throat ; and you are saved many an inconvenient cough." (This 
 remark of the author has gained additional significance and importance 
 since the lecture on " Dust," recently delivered by Professor Tyndall 
 at the Royal Institution, in which he expressed his belief that to the 
 particles of dust floating about in the air of great cities, and often con- 
 sisting of organic germs and the produce of decomposition, might be 
 traced the origin of many zymotic diseases. If such disease-bearing 
 particles can be arrested in their passage by the filtering apparatus which 
 Nature has provided in the air-passages of the nostrils, and thus be 
 prevented reaching more vital organs, I need not say how important it 
 is that the mode of respiration I have spoken of should be always 
 adopted.) Serjeant Cox then goes on to say :— " In breathing through 
 the nostrils, the air traverses a small, long, and very warm tube before it 
 reaches the windpipe, by which its temperature is raised to that of the 
 delicate membrane on which it there impinges, and thus all inflamma- 
 tion or even irritation is avoided. But if you breathe through the open 
 mouth, the air rushes in, carrying with it impurities that make you cough 
 by their contact with the mucous membrane, while the cold irritates the 
 sensitive organs and produces temporary inconvenience, possibly pro- 
 tracted illness. There is also another result of breathing through the 
 mouth peculiarly unpleasant to readers and speakers, — the drying of the 
 lips, tongue, and throat, which is the consequence of the contraction 
 and closing of the salivary glands. Accustom yourself, therefore, to 
 breathe always through the nostrils." The passages by which the air 
 entering by the nostrils at the external orifices passes out at the pos- 
 terior nares into the lungs, are shown by the illustration on the opposite 
 page, for which I am indebted to Dr. Gordon Holmes, the author of an 
 excellent work on "Vocal Physiology," published last year.* 
 
 It is also perfectly certain that the once "great secret," as Mr. Thel- 
 wall calls it in his letter, is now widely known and practised on the other 
 side of the Atlantic ; for very recently I had a work sent me from New 
 York, on "Voice and Action," by Professor J. E. Frobisher, who is, I am 
 informed, considered to be the most eminent teacher of elocution in that 
 city, and it happened rather curiously that, on opening the book as soon 
 as it reached my hands, the first passage my eye lighted on was the 
 following, at p. 60 : — " As soon as possible learn to breathe always 
 through the nostrils instead of the mouth, as this process will never 
 parch the throat or cause any irritation. This manner of breathing 
 will dilate the nasal cavities, strengthen the muscles of the nostrils, 
 keep the lungs perfectly healthy, and wonderfully improve the quality of 
 the voice. Even when walking, especially if moving rapidly, learn to 
 keep the mouth y?r;///y sJmt and breathe exrlusively through the nostrils. 
 Lung and even other diseases are brought on more frequently from an 
 open mouth, particularly when sleeping, than from almost any other 
 cause. By putting the mind upon it with a detennination to succeed, 
 
 • Churchill & Co.
 
 Lect. VI.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 the habit of keeping it shut can be acquired both for waking and sleep- 
 ing hours ; for the results of what is resolutely done in the ofie time will 
 then unconsciously be carried into the other. There is, too, 2i philosophy 
 in this breathing process, that perhaps need not be explained in a work 
 of this character." 
 
 The "philosophy of this breathing process," to which Professor 
 Frobisher alludes, is, I imagine, the same as that arrived at by the late 
 Mr. George Catlin, the well-known author of so many works, recording 
 
 Fig. 12. 
 
 his travels and adventures among the North American Indians. His 
 last work was one which was published under the title of "The Breath 
 of Life," ■'' — an(;l a very curious work it is in many respects. The author 
 states, in his introduction to his book, that it is generally known in the 
 reading portion of the world that he has devoted the greater part of his 
 long life to visiting and recording the habits, customs, and appearances 
 * Published by Triibner & Co., Ludgate Hill.
 
 76 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VI. 
 
 presented by the various native races of North and South America ; and 
 that during those researches, observing the healthy condition and physical 
 perfection of those tribes in their primitive state, as contrasted with 
 the deplorable mortality, the numerous diseases, as well as deformities, 
 in civilised communities, he was led to search for, and has been able, he 
 believes, to discover the main cause leading to such different results. 
 He further states, that during his various ethnographic labours amongst 
 these wild people, he has visited no less than a hundred and fifty diffe- 
 rent tribes, containing more than two millions of souls ; and therefore 
 has had in all probability more extensive opportunities than any other 
 man living of examining their sanitary system, and, if from those 
 examinations, he has arrived at results of importance to the health and 
 existence of mankind, he will have achieved a double object in a long 
 and toilsome life, and will enjoy a twofold satisfaction in making them 
 known to the world, and particularly to the medical faculty, who, he 
 hopes, may turn them to good account. 
 
 Tne summary of Mr. Catlin's conclusions may be briefly stated to be 
 the following : — that those tribes, where they have not contracted habits 
 of intemperance and other vices from contact with the white man, are 
 distinguished by remarkable health and vigour ; that they are free from 
 consumption, bronchitis, and other diseases of the respiratory organs ; 
 that they seem to have a singular immunity from fevers and infectious 
 diseases, and preserve their teeth sound and white to extreme old age — 
 and all these blessings, these wild children of nature believe, and Mr. 
 Catlin expresses his conviction that they are right in that belief, they 
 owe to the habit in which they are strictly brought up from the earliest 
 infancy, of always breathing through the nostrils only — indeed, he 
 says he has seen repeatedly an Indian mother watching her infant 
 as it slept in its cradle by her side, and carefully pressing its lips to- 
 gether if by any chance they were apart, so as to secure the habit in her 
 progeny, which enables them, as far as regards healih and vigour^ to 
 command, to use the author's own language, the envy and admiration 
 of the world. 
 
 Conversing with these tribes, among whom Mr. Catlin moreover says 
 he never met with a case of idiotcy, deafness, dumbness, neuralgia, 
 curvature of the spine, or other deformity, he found that this mode of 
 breathing was universal with them all, and the reasons given by them 
 lor its adoption are, in Mr. Catlin's opinion, so sound and cogent as to 
 be quite unanswerable. In substance they are as follows : — Man's cares 
 and fatigues of the day become a daily disease, for which quiet refresh- 
 ing sleep is a cure. The all-wise Creator has so constructed him that 
 his breathing apparatus supports him, if rightly used, through that sleep, 
 like a perfect machine, regulating the circulation of the blood, and the 
 digestive functions, and carrying repose and rest from the brain to the 
 extremity of every limb ; and for the protection and healthy working of 
 the whole machine throughout the hours of repose. He has furnished 
 him with nostrils intended for properly measuring and regulating the 
 temperature of the air that keeps alive the moving principle and fountain 
 of life; and, in proportion as the quieting and restoring influence of the
 
 Lect. VI.] ON ELOCUTION. 77 
 
 lungs in sleep, when the air reaches them only through the passages of 
 the nostrils, is carried to each organ and limb of the frame, so the very 
 reverse is the case when the individual has the habit of sleeping and 
 receiving the air into his lungs directly by the open mouth. 
 
 There is no animal in nature, excepting civilised man, that sleeps with 
 the mouth open ; and this usually is the case where his earher life has 
 been passed amid enervating luxuries and unnatural warmth at night, 
 when the injurious habit is easily contracted. The physical conforma- 
 tion of man alone affords sufficient proof that this is a habit against 
 nature and instinct; and that he was made, like other animals, to sleep 
 with his mouth shut, supplying the lungs with vital air through the 
 nostrils, the natural channels ; and the strongest corroboration of this 
 fact, says Mr. Catlin, is met with among the North American tribes, 
 who, strictly adhering from earliest infancy to nature's law in this respect, 
 show the beneficial results in their fine and manly forms, and their 
 exemption from some of the worst and most fatal forms of physical and 
 mental disease. The mouth of man was made for the reception of 
 sustenance and the production of speech ; but the nostrils, with their 
 delicate and fibrous linings for purifying and warming the air in its 
 passage, have been marvellously constructed and designed to stand 
 guard, as it were, over the lungs, to measure the air and equalise its 
 draughts alike in our hours of waking life as in those of repose. The 
 atmosphere, charged as it often is with noxious particles of various kinds, 
 is, in fact, nowhere pure enough for man's breathing till it has been passed 
 through this mysterious, refining process ; and therefore the imprudence 
 and danger of admitting it in an unnatural w-ay in undue quantities 
 upon the lungs, and charged, it may be, with the surrounding epidemic 
 or other infections of the moment, must be beyond all question. But 
 the impurities of the air are arrested by the intricate organisation and 
 natural secretion of the nostrils, and most frequently thrown out again 
 immediately by the returning passage of the breath ; and the air 
 which thus enters the lungs by the nostrils is as different to that which 
 reaches them by the open mouth as filtered water is from that in an 
 ordinary pond or cistern. 
 
 Mr. Catlin goes on to say that he firmly believes if this mode of 
 respiration were only as universal amongst us as it is amongst the wild 
 tribes with whom he spent so many years of his life, we should soon 
 find a wonderful diminution of those unhappily now most frequent and 
 fatal maladies — consumption, bronchitis, quinsy, croup, and other 
 diseases of the respiratory organs, as well as a marked improvement in 
 the general health and vigour of the people. He concludes his v/ork by 
 giving the results of his own personal experience, stating that until the 
 age of thirty-four he was of very feeble health, which his friends and 
 physicians believed to be the result of disease of the lungs, and that 
 up to that time he had been in the habit of breathing, whether 
 sleeping or waking, as often by the open mouth as not. At that age he 
 abandoned the profession he was following and devoted himself to 
 exploring the vast wildernesses of America and their native inhabitants. 
 Here it was that he first 'earnt what is the only proper mode of carrying
 
 •jS A'liVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [I,ect. VI. 
 
 on respiration, and declares that since he has acquired tlie habit of the 
 Indians of breathing always exclusively by the nostrils, he has, though 
 sleeping often for nights together in the open air during his wanderings, 
 exposed to the vicissitudes and changes of temperature of widely diffe- 
 rent latitudes, enjoyed, up to the time of writing his book, a robust 
 vigour of health, and freedom from all aches and pains, to which he 
 was, previously to acquiring the habit, an entire stranger; and he winds 
 up by stating that the one sole motive which he has in publishing his 
 book is, that he may make others acquainted with all the advantages 
 which he has derived, and the simple, easy, and yet most important means 
 by which he is firmly convinced all those advantages were gained. 
 
 The subject of Elocution is never once named, nor even incidentally 
 glanced at, by the author throughout his whole work, and it is confined 
 exclusively to all the sanitary advantages which he asserts will be gained, 
 and the ills that will be avoided, by always using nature's own respirator 
 (far superior to any artificial instrument), the nostrils, for the purpose of 
 supplying the lungs with the requisite amount of air. 
 
 It is certainly rather curious to find these uncivilised children of 
 nature thus carrying out a mode of breathing systematically, because 
 they believe it to be attended by so many and great advantages ; and to 
 find the very same process, until comparatively a recent date, jealously 
 kept as one of the refinements of Art, as a secret in Elocution, and sold 
 as such at a considerable fee. 
 
 I can only say that my own experience is quite in accordance with 
 Mr. Catlin's. I was more than thirty years of age when the late Mr. 
 Thelwall communicated to me the once " great secret." Previously to 
 that I was very liable, especially in winter, to attacks of cold, sore throat, 
 hoarseness, and sometimes a complete loss of voice. But since follow- 
 ing Mr. Thelwall's advice, and carrying on respiration as he directed, 
 invariably by the nostrils, I can most truly say, although for about eleven 
 months in the year I am using my voice, morning, noon, and night, in 
 lecturing or reading in public, or giving instruction in Elocution to 
 pupils, and consequently submitting the alleged advantages of this mode 
 of respiration to no slight test, I am never conscious of any sense of 
 heat, dryness, or fatigue in the vocal or speech organs ; and the only 
 effect of prolonged vocal exercise with me, is just that healthy appetite 
 which would and ought to follow any physical exertion that is beneficial 
 to the 'system. Exposed as I am, too, to constant sudden changes of 
 temperature in going from heated or crowded rooms into the cold night 
 air of winter, I scarcely, if ever, get the least cold, and never a cough ; 
 and all this I attribute entirely to my having been taught to use " nature's 
 respirator," the nostrils only, in the act of breathing. Dr. Shuldham, in 
 his "Clergyman's Sore Throat"* (pp. 58, 59), says, in reference to the 
 alleged advantages of wearing moustache and beard: — " We cannot help 
 thinking that too much importance has been attached to these append- 
 ages as respirators, and too little given to that common respirator of 
 the human race, the nose. The beard is an accident of sex, nay, it is 
 an accident of individual capacity for hair growing ; but nature has 
 * Gould & Son, Moorgate Street, London, i2mo, price 2s. 6d. 
 
 I
 
 Lect. VI ] OiV ELOCUTION. 79 
 
 been generous enough to give to all her children a nose. . . . The. nose, 
 then, being a common gift to all the human race, it must serve some 
 good purpose ; it was not made for purely ornamental conditions. The 
 nose, in addition to its capacities as an organ of smell, was given us to 
 breathe through, both for taking in and letting out air ; it warms cold 
 air, it purifies doubtful air ; and this is all we can expect or hope for 
 from the respirator. Let us, then, cultivate the art of breathing through 
 the nose." 
 
 Again, Dr. Abbots, in his work on " Stammering and Stuttering," says 
 at p. 29: — "The mouth has its own distinct functions to perform, 
 namely, in connection with eating, drinking, and talking ; in other words, 
 to serve as a means of ingress for food, and of egress for the sound 
 of the voice. The nostrils, on the other hand, with their beautifully 
 designed passages and their various recesses, lined by a highly vascular 
 fibro-mucous membrane, are destined for the purposes of smelling (through 
 the numerous branches of the olfactory nerve distributed in the nasal 
 fossae) and of respiration. If this last-named fact were generally under- 
 stood and properly appreciated, we should have a vast diminution in the 
 number of cases of sore throat, cough, and various serious affections of 
 the lungs ; cases of temporary, often passing into permanent, deaf- 
 ness, would also be less frequent than they now are ; caries, and other 
 affections of the teeth, would, I believe, be rare, as compared with their 
 present frequency, if people breathed through the nostrils." Mr. Catlin 
 also expresses his belief that stammering may be frequently traced to a 
 nervous hesitation and vibration of the under jaw when brought up from 
 its habitual hanging position in persons who keep the mouth open, to 
 perform its part in articulation.* 
 
 There is but one more authority I will cite in reference to this subject, 
 and that is the great German metaphysician, Emmanuel Kant. In De 
 Quincey's "Last days of Emmanuel Kant," at pp. 114, 115, you will 
 find the following passage : — 
 
 " After dinner Kant always went out for walking exercise ; but on 
 these occasions he never took any companion ; partly, as I happen to 
 know, for this very peculiar reason — that he wished to breathe exclusively 
 through his nostrils, which he thought he could not do so well if he were 
 obliged continually to open his mouth in conversation. His reason for 
 this was, that the atmospheric air, being thus carried round by a longer 
 circuit, and reaching the lungs therefore in a state of less rawness and 
 at a temperature somewhat higher, would be less apt to irritate them. 
 By a steady perseverance in this practice, which he recommended con- 
 stantly to all his friends, he flattered himself that he might enjoy a long 
 immunity from coughs, hoarseness, catarrhs, and all modes of pulmon- 
 ary derangement ; and the fact really was, that these troublesome affec- 
 tions attacked him but very rarely. Indeed, I myself, by adopting only 
 occasionally this rule, have found my own chest not nearly so liable 
 as formerly to such attacks." 
 
 I have dwelt thus fully on the right mode of managing respiration, 
 not only in public reading and speaking, but at all times, sleeping and 
 * Pitman, Gower Street, 1879.
 
 8o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VI. 
 
 waking, because I deem it to be of such vital importance to every class 
 of the community, but especially to public speakers, preachers, barristers, 
 readers, lecturers, actors, and singers ; for of all such professions it may 
 in most cases literally be said that the voice is " the means whereby they 
 live," and to lose the voice, or have its quality impaired by hoarseness, 
 is for the time frequently to lose the very means of subsistence. If there 
 is a way by which the voice may be preserved, unimpaired in power and 
 compass, even to a very advanced period of life, and the general 
 health and vigour of the system maintained as well, surely it will be the 
 wiser course for every man and woman to try persistently to adopt it, 
 until by practice it has become an unconscious habit, carried out upon 
 all occasions ? 
 
 And now for the easy and simple modes by which the air may be 
 made always to reach the lungs by the passage of the nostrils. There 
 are two. Of course, when we are silent and the lips are closed as they 
 should always be, easily, but yet firmly, when we are not using the voice, 
 the air can only enter the lungs by the nostrils ; and this happily is the 
 way in which the generality of us are accustomed to breathe ; for it is 
 not very often, I think, that we meet with individuals who are always 
 seen with the mouth more or less open. To say nothing of the irresolute, 
 vacant, idiotic look which such a habit always gives the countenance, 1 
 can certainly, from my own observation of such cases, assert that such 
 persons always have a tendency to hesitation, stammering, or other 
 impediments of speech, or the voice is wanting in purity and clearness 
 of tone, and there is a constant liability to colds, coughs, and other 
 bronchial affections. But those persons who always, when silent, keep 
 the lips closed, and so consequently breathe through the nostrils, are 
 yet (unless they have been made acquainted with the art) generally in 
 the habit, when they are called upon to speak in public or read aloud, 
 of breathing by the open mouth, and even in this mode inadequately 
 filling the lungs with air, and replenishing them on no kind of system. 
 Dryness of the mouth, soreness of the throat (most frequently that form 
 of inflammation termed "clerical sore throat"), hoarseness of voice, and 
 a general sense of fatigue and exhaustion after prolonged and continued 
 efforts of this nature, soon make them aware that something is wrong. 
 Now, none of these ill effects would have been experienced if they had 
 had recourse to the second method of supplying the lungs with air by 
 the nostrils, which is this :— There is no occasion at the end of every 
 sentence, or during the various pauses in a long sentence, to stop and 
 close the lips, and then to take the breath by the nostrils ; for if done to 
 any great extent in this way, it is apt to be heard even at some little 
 distance, and the sound is not agreeable. But if at the moment of taking 
 in the breath, the upper surface of the tongue is just pressed gently but 
 firmly against the middle part of the hard palate, it serves in that posi- 
 tion as a barrier to prevent the passage of any air beyond. Then if the 
 head and neck are very slightly drawn back, and the chest is properly 
 expanded, a large amount of air enters by the nostrils, and in a very few 
 seconds completely fills the lungs quite inaudibly ; for not a sound should 
 be heard even by the nearest bystanders. — This is the " great secret " 
 
 {
 
 Lect. VI.] ON ELOCUTION. 8i 
 
 that was sold at such a heavy price by the older elocutionists to their 
 pupils. But in order to inspire the requisite amount of air quietly, 
 inaudibly, and yet effectually, the inspiratory effort should not be made 
 with the external orifices of tlie nostrils, but at the back of the posterior 
 nares, where the canal opens into the pharynx. By the former passage 
 it is scarcely possible to avoid the inspiratory effort being both seen and 
 heard, but by the latter the inspiration is as inaudible as it is invisible. 
 Here, perha^DS, as much as in anything, the old motto ^^ ars celare artem" 
 holds good ; and a little practice may at first be required by some in 
 order to acquire "the art to hide the art." But a single personaliWw^- 
 tration of the way in which this ought to be done, shown you by an 
 experienced teacher of Elocution is worth far more than any mere 
 verbal explanation of the process ; and such, each student amongst 
 you in these King's College Classes will have from me when we come 
 at the close of this course of Lectures to our individual practical lessons 
 in the arts of public reading and speaking. 
 
 Professor John Hullah, who has for so many years filled the office of 
 Professor of Vocal Music in this College, and after a long term of 
 honourable service has only this year resigned, published lately a very 
 useful little manual, forming one of the Clarendon Press Series, entitled 
 ■'The Cultivation of the Speaking Voice."* There are some excellent 
 remarks in it on that which is equally important to the public speaker, 
 reader, and singer, viz., respiration, which I may well quote in this part 
 of my lecture : " Though Respiration," says Professor Hullah, " must be 
 made at intervals not infrequent, whether the voice be active or passive, 
 the conditions under which it has to be made are not in both instances 
 the same. When the vocal mechanism is at rest, respiration is made 
 regularly: the lungs are filled with air, and emptied again at about 
 equal intervals of time. But during speaking or singing this is not so : 
 /aspiration and ifjcpiration must then {both of them) be regulated in 
 extent, as well as in frequency, by the length and construction of the 
 phrases, rhetorical or musical, or both, which have to be said or sung. 
 Not only is the art of taking breath at certain intervals physically neces- 
 sary, but when those intervals are dictated by the matter to be uttered, 
 it may, of itself , become a powerful means of expression, and itself add 
 largely to the force and clearness, whether of oratory or of song. The 
 action of the lungs during speaking or singing would seem to differ 
 from their action when the voice is at rest, chiefly in this: — that 
 in the latter condition (as we have seen) inspiration and expiration are 
 made at, or nearly at, equal intervals of time ; whereas in the former the 
 act of /aspiration should be made as quickly as possible " (consistently 
 with thorough inflation of the lungs, I would add) " and ^.rpiration as 
 slowly as possible. The first of these acts, though demanding some 
 care, is not hard of attainment ; the second, deliberate and controlled 
 expiration, is somewhat more so. Both will be rendered easier, if we 
 consider that the animal economy is as well cared for when expiration 
 is the cause of sound as when it is not. Every particle of air, therefore, 
 which a speaker or singer (in action) exhales silefitly is tvasted — is some- 
 * Macmillan & Co., Clarendon Press, Oxford. 
 
 F
 
 82 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VI. 
 
 thing taken from the power and volume and ease of his utterance. As 
 the sound of the violin reaches the ear the instant the bow of the skiltul 
 violinist touches the string, so should that of the voice at the instant 
 expiration — the bowing oi the vocalist— begins ; no interval of time being 
 left during which air may escape from the lungs, without being turned 
 to account in the production of sound. Many speakers and readers, 
 and even singers, disregard this ; having taken breath, they give some 
 of it out again before their utterance cofumences, — obviously with a loss of 
 power." 
 
 I would summarise, then, all that I think can be said upon this branch 
 of the subject in the following practical directions : — 
 
 Remember, in order to ensure personal ease and fluent utterance, 
 that the lungs must receive in the way I have described a volume of air 
 much greater than that which is taken in, in ordinary respiration. You 
 must also avail yourselves of the opportunity afforded by grammatical or 
 rhetorical pauses, which I shall explain hereafter, and always at the full 
 stop which marks the close of a sentence replenish the lungs by taking 
 in a fresh supply of air ; for if, neglecting this regular and systematic 
 replenishment of the lungs, you go on reading or speaking to the very 
 end of your breath, you will find not only that your utterance becomes 
 both laborious and feeble, but you will produce much less effect, with 
 very much more of physical exhaustion, which, to say the least of it, is 
 very bad economy. I think it is always best before beginning to read or 
 speak in public to thoroughly inflate the lungs by a full, deep inspiration, 
 and then by replenishment at the proper pauses to keep up the normal 
 amount of air within the lungs as far as possible. 
 
 I need not, I am sure, stop to dilate at any great length upon the 
 proper management of the breath in the act of expiration, being an 
 essential element of Elocution, and, like the act of inspiration, an all- 
 important consideration. The breath being, as I have shown you, the 
 primary cause of vocal sound, and the lungs being nature's reservoir for 
 the reception of air, and containing only a certain amount of it propor- 
 tionate to their depth and extent, it is most incumbent on the speaker 
 or reader to know how to economise, as it were, and make the most varied 
 and effective use of that supply. Besides the personal sense of fatigue 
 that will follow from an error in this respect, too large a stream of breath 
 exercises an injurious influence on the pitch and quality of the voice, 
 and, moreover, tends to destroy all purity and delicacy of tone, by the 
 very efforts which are made to sustain the art of expiration. 
 
 In dwelling upon this portion of my subject, I do not think I can do 
 better than quote the remarks of Mr. Kingsbury,* because, though his 
 work professedly refers to singing only, yet in this respect all that he 
 says applies with equal force and propriety to reading aloud and speak- 
 ing : " Although we all know that in the common operation of breathing 
 the air passes out of the lungs as quickly as it passes into them, yet 
 it cannot too much be insisted upon that in singing" (and in reading 
 aloud also, I would observe parenthetically) "the lungs must acquire the 
 power to control the passage outwards of the breath ; that is, instead 
 * Kingsbury, " On the Voice."
 
 Lect. VI.] ON ELOCUTION. 83 
 
 of the quick, gushing exhalation, as in breathing, the stream of breath 
 must be rendered as small as possible, so that the sound may not only 
 be prolonged, but that, too, with a degree of clearness of tone and com- 
 pleteness of control indispensable to perfect vocalisation. The diffe- 
 rence will be at once evident by trying to produce a sound, emitting the 
 breath as in the act of breathing, and it will be found that although the 
 larynx may have been placed in the vocalising position, yet the sound 
 will be of a disagreeable, husky quality, and of very short duration, for 
 the lungs will have become exhausted almost instantaneously.- If, on the 
 contrary, the process be repeated at the same time that we endeavour 
 to prolong the outward passage of the breath, the result will be a clearer 
 and purer quality of vocal sound, together with a much augmented 
 power of sustaining it. 
 
 "The vocal sound, then, does not require a large stream of breath, 
 and I shall only give one example more in this place tending to show the 
 advantages of a modified form of using it. 
 
 "A practised reader takes breath but seldom, and yet what a number 
 of words he will pronounce, sentence after sentence, in the same breath ; 
 and when he does replenish the reservoirs within, it is done so quickly 
 and quietly as to be almost imperceptible. 
 
 "This is equally required in speaking and singing, for all are per- 
 formed by the same physical means ; with this only difference, that in 
 singing, the changes of articulation not being generally so frequent or 
 so rapid, the vocal sound to compensate for this should be caused to 
 dwell upon the vowal of the syllable or word expressed : thus the singer 
 substitutes sustained sound for that which the speaker uses in more rapid 
 succession ; the reader, speaker, and singer alike requiring but a small 
 stream of breath to effect a clear and elegant enunciation. 
 
 " Enough has been said, it is now hoped, to show the desirability of 
 economising the breath in the production of the vocal tone. The pupil 
 may rest assured that there is nothing so pernicious to the true develop- 
 ment of the vocal sound or tone as a too profuse expenditure of breath. 
 The smaller the stream the better, if it is the wish to acquire a really 
 good tone, and likewise the facility of prolonging it." 
 
 These, then, are the remarks of Mr. Kingsbury, and of the sound- 
 ness of the principles contained in them I am thoroughly convinced. 
 
 One of the modes by which the supply of breath is wasted, instead of 
 being economised^ I continually observe in the pupils I have had under 
 my care, and it consists in the following error. Instead of seizing the 
 sound, as it were, and articulating the very instant the mouth opens, 
 the lips are suffered to remain apart for a few seconds before the pupil 
 begins actually to read or speak. By this mistake much valuable breath 
 is lost, and the sound of the voice most seriously injured in quality, to 
 say nothing of the personal fatigue and speedy exhaustion caused by 
 this erroneous habit. And now, as a means of fixing the rules I have 
 been laying down firmly in your minds, I will practically illustrate my 
 remarks to you by reading some few selections, with articulation clear 
 and distinct enough, but committing the errors I have been warning 
 you against. You will, I think, find by the great care I shall bestow
 
 84 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. VI. 
 
 on the articulation of each word, I shall be perfectly audible even in 
 the remotest part of this hall, but you will perceive in my reading that 
 all the mistakes I am now pointing out and warning you against, have 
 precisely the same results. Whether I only half fill my lungs with air, 
 or whether I take the inspiration by the mouth, or whether I suffer the 
 lips to be open for a second or two before I begin to read or speak, I 
 shall equally injure the fulness of tone. What musicians call roundness 
 of voice will be in a great measure gone ; it will sound comparatively 
 thin and flat, and you will hear that the power of conveying with any- 
 thing like due effect the various passions or emotions portrayed in the 
 piece which I am about to read, is almost entirely destroyed. 
 
 I will then read the same passage, taking care to inflate the lungs 
 adequately, and properly economise the supply of breath I have thus 
 obtained, and you will hear how very differently the whole of it will 
 sound.* 
 
 I am inclined to think that these occasional practical illustrations 
 in my own person, as I proceed with my course of Lectures, will serve 
 materially to explain my reasoning, and tend perhaps more than 
 anything else to fix the principles I am laying down firmly in your 
 memories. 
 
 * A passage from one of Buike's speeches was here read by way of illuslralion.
 
 «m 
 
 M 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 
 ^K^^ 
 
 1 
 
 i/'^^s 
 
 
 § 
 
 LECTURE VII. 
 
 Analysis of the elements of the Human Voice — Professor Hullah's suggestions in 
 regard to the best mode of Developing and Cultivating the Speaking Voice — 
 Different degrees of Aperture of the Mouth and the Shape taken by the Lips 
 for the pure Sound of the different Vowels — Herr Georges' method of ascertaining 
 these — Illustration of the positions of the Lips, by Signor Lanza — Classification of 
 Voices — Causes of the different Classes of Voices — Philosophy of Sound and its 
 Phenomena — Chladni's Experiments — Causes that produce the different degrees 
 of Intensity of Sound, Pitch, Tone, and Timbre — Range of Human Perception 
 in regard to Sound — The Telephone, Phonograph, Microphone, Phoneidoscope, 
 and Audiphone — Difference between Sound and Noise — Resemblance and differ- 
 ences between the Music of Speech and the Music of Song. 
 
 fE have now, I hope, arrived at a fair understanding of the 
 marvellous mechanism and process by which the human 
 voice is produced. Let us next proceed to analyse the 
 subject of voice in some degree at least, and inquire of 
 what its elements consist. It is obvious that words are 
 composed of vowels and consonants, and very rarely of vowels only. 
 "Though it be not without exception true," remarks Professor Hullah, 
 in the work I mentioned in my last lecture, " that consonants have 
 no individual phonetic existence, it is certain that vowels have ; that 
 consonants are practically initiatory, distributive, or interruptory only, 
 indeed, altogether dependent on vowels ; and that of necessity, there- 
 fore, vowels are pre-eminently the soiinds of speech (consonants being 
 rather the noises) and form the sole element in it which admits of any 
 appreciable variety of pitch, duration, intensity, or timbre. As it is in 
 the utterance of voivels alone that we can estimate the voice, whether of 
 speaker or singer, so it must be through their instrumentality exclusively, 
 in the first instance, that we can hope to develop its sweetness and 
 power, whether in speaking, reading, or singing. Not only so : on one 
 vowel only is the tijnbre of the human voice to be heard in its highest 
 perfection, the vowel A, as pronounced in the English word 'Father.' 
 During the perfect utterance of this vowel, the teeth will be at least 
 sufficiently apart to admit of the insertion of a finger between them : 
 the tongue will lie along the bottom of the mouth, its tip resting on tho 
 lower teeth, and forming a curve corresponding to that presented by 
 the roof of the mouth. If the teeth be not sufficiently apart, the timbre
 
 86 AYA^G'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. 
 
 will want resonance and openness ; if the tongue be not sufficiently 
 advanced, or if it approach the roof of the mouth too nearly, it will also 
 want purity, — become guttural or nasal. This last imperfection may 
 likewise be produced by extravagant retrocession of the corners of the 
 lips. 
 
 " Recent physiological researches have justified the choice of the long 
 open A, not merely as the vowel on which the voice is heard to the 
 greatest advantage, but also as that on which, with a view to its improve- 
 ment, it should be most frequently exercised. Professor Willis has 
 shown that by setting a reed in a state of vibration, and gradually 
 elongating the tube which augments and governs its sounds, a series of 
 sounds closely resembling in their timbre the vowels E A (narrow, as in 
 the word day) A (open) O and 00, as in the word coo — is produced. 
 In like manner, the tube which augments and governs the vocal 
 mechanism — the mouth — is, so to speak, elongated as the vowels are 
 uttered in the above order; />., more and more of it is brought into 
 operation, E being formed at the back of the mouth ; 00 at the most 
 advanced part of it, indeed by the lips almost exclusively, whilst the 
 open A proceeds from the centre, where the utmost resonance is 
 possible. This discovery not only justifies the choice of the open A as 
 the vowel on which the voice should be first and most exercised ; but 
 also suggests the order in which the practice of the other vowels should 
 be taken up. As the open A is formed in the central position of the 
 oval tube, so are O and the narrow A in that nearest to it, the former 
 involving the employment of more of the tube than the latter. 
 
 " To the utterance of these vowels on the dominant notes — those 
 nearest to the middle of his voice — now fully sustaining them, now 
 attacking them suddenly and quitting them in like manner, at various 
 degrees of intensity, the student should devote a good deal of his time 
 and his very best attention. He should begin with, and often return to 
 the practice of, the open A ; begin with it because it is the easiest, and 
 return to it because experience has shown it to be the most useful. The 
 practice of the open A had best be followed by that of O, and that of O 
 by that of the narrow A, 00 had better follow, and E, incomparably 
 the most difficult, be attacked last. The maintenance of the proper 
 degree of adjustment of the variable cavity of the mouth and lips may 
 be tested from time to time by the eye, with the aid of a looking-glass ; 
 and that of the pitch, by an occasional reference to a musical instru- 
 ment." 
 
 So much for the judicious remarks of Professor HuUah. 
 
 Whilst we are considering the different vowels, or, in other words, the 
 elements of voice, a most important subject, for on them only can 
 inflection and modulation take place in elocution, and the different notes 
 of the musical scale in song. I may mention here, that a very excellent 
 and ingenious German teacher of singing, Herr Georges, has lately 
 brought into notice a simple mechanical instrument which he has 
 invented, and used with great success among his pupils, for the purpose 
 of making them acquainted with the different degrees of aperture 
 which the mouth should have for the pure formation of the different
 
 Lect. VII.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 87 
 
 vowels, which, I need hardly repeat, ought to be formed, so far as 
 regards purity of sound, exactly in the same manner, whether in song 
 or in elocution. 
 
 The instrument is a little ivory wedge, of the size and shape sub- 
 joined. 
 
 Fig. 13- 
 
 The mode in which it is to be used is to apply it to the position of an 
 upright triangle, as in the illustration. The notched line may be called 
 the hypotenuse. The distances for the various degrees of aperture of 
 the mouth are measured by the perpendiculars, from any given point 
 in the hypotenuse to the base of the wedge. The latter is inserted 
 between the upper and lower front teeth, and the teacher determines the 
 respective distances for the various vowels ; for, as we all know, the size 
 of the human mouth varies very much in different individuals, and the 
 notch that would suit one person for the pure production of a given 
 vowel, such, for instance, as the open A, would not suit another if his 
 mouth were materially larger or smaller. The ear and judgment of the 
 master, therefore, must determine what notch in the wedge is proper for 
 each pupil. As a general rule, the scale subjoined will hold good in 
 most instances. 
 
 The open A. as in the word " father," should, as Professor Hullah 
 says, be the first vowel practised, and for its pure formation the range is 
 from notch lo to 14. The position of the tongue and other particulars 
 have already been given in my quotation from Professor's Hullah's little 
 work. For the vowel O, as in the word " rose," the variation in the 
 opening of the mouth is from notch 8 to 12. In its pure production, 
 moreover, the lips assume a globular or elliptical shape, something like 
 the form of the letter itself, and also slightly protrude. The position of 
 the mouth in the production of O is particularly favourable for resonance, 
 as the cavity obtained is neither too small nor too large. In the true 
 formation of this vowel, the tongue is somewhat raised and slightly drawn 
 back, remaining in a spread position, and the edges of the upper and 
 lower teeth require just to be visible, in order to prevent the soft 
 substance of the lips from absorbing the sound. The shape of the 
 mouth being ascertained, great care should be taken to continue the 
 form during the whole time the vowel is dwelt on. This remark holds 
 good, indeed, with icgard to all the vowel sounds ; lor the slightest 
 deviation is felt, E being very liable to merge into the narrow A, and 
 the open A into O, and I into E, and a very minute change in the
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. VI L 
 
 opening of the mouth or the position of the tongue or lips will effect 
 this modification. 
 
 In the formation of the narrow A. or in the gamut of long E, which 
 is sounded like A in the word "pale," the range of the wedge is from 
 notch 4 to 6, and in its formation the lips have to be fairly open and 
 extended a little laterally ; the apex of the tongue is raised towards the 
 hard palate, and its tip pressed gently against the lower front teeth. 
 
 In the production of E, or in the gamut I, and pronounced like ee in 
 the word " see," the form of the mouth resembles that of a narrow A, 
 in speech, or E in the gamut, but the lips, however, require to be more 
 laterally extended and the tongue raised a little higher. It is said to be 
 the most troublesome of all the vowels to form quite purely, and very 
 apt to merge into the sound of others ; but it only requires a little 
 attention to the right mode of its production, and perseverance in its 
 practice, to easily overcome the difficulty which its formation presents. 
 
 Last of all, we come to the vowel U, in the gamut sounded as oo in 
 the word " moon," and for its proper formation the range of the wedge 
 is from notch 6 to 8 ; and the most eminent teachers advise that its 
 right sound should be acquired by taking first O, and, as it were, gliding 
 into it, by protruding the lips a little more, narrowing the aperture of 
 the mouth, and drawing down the tongue. 
 
 If the formation of these vowels be carefully studied and practised, 
 the ear will soon become sufficiently tramed to acquire easily every 
 modification of vowel sound that the right pronunciation of words may 
 require, whether in speech or song. 
 
 You will have noticed that for the pure sound of the different vowels 
 to be heard, it is not merely sufficient that the mouth should be open 
 to the requisite degree, but the proper position of the lips must also be 
 borne in mind. 
 
 The subjoined illustrations, designed by the celebrated Italian 
 
 Mi 
 
 Si 
 
 Fig. 14. 
 
 \ 
 
 singing master, Signor Gesualdo Lanza, and for which I am indebted 
 to Herr Georges, will serve to show what these positions are.
 
 Lect. VII.] ON ELOCUTION. 89 
 
 The voice of the pupil in the art of singing is formed and developed 
 by what is termed the practice of the solfeggio, that is, by the formation 
 of these vowels purely, and then sustaining them in a certain prescribed 
 manner upon that scale of notes which in music is called the gamut. 
 
 By a modification of the principle may the voice of the pupil in the 
 art of elocution be formed and developed where it is impure, weak, or 
 defective in the way suggested by Professor Hullah in his able little 
 work on the cultivation of the speaking voice, and for this purpose he 
 appends to his treatise a series of tables of words, consisting of vowels 
 and consonants, specially adapted to such an end. 
 
 In this place I may as well, perhaps, mention that voices are 
 classified in each sex under three principal descriptions — in men, the 
 bass, the baritone, and the tenor ; in women, the contralto, the mezzo- 
 soprano, and the soprano. 
 
 The bass, which is the lowest voice in the scale, surpasses all others 
 usually in volume and power, but is apt to be wanting in richness or 
 roundness of tone. Next above in the scale we have the baritone, 
 which would seem to be the normal male voice, and is generally found 
 to be characterised by the most compass, flexibility, and timbre. Lastly 
 comes the tenor, the highest in the Scale, and the smoothest and most 
 tender and delicate in quality. 
 
 The contralto is the lowest female voice, and full and rich in quality. 
 The mezzo-soprano is the next in the scale above, and is to woman what 
 the baritone is to man. As a rule, the baritone and the mezzo-soprano 
 voices preserve their power, tone, and compass longer than any others, 
 and instances are recorded of their having done so long after the age of 
 threescore years and ten. 
 
 It is a somewhat perplexing question to decide which of the class of 
 voices above enumerated should be considered as the most perfect ; but 
 most physiologists and musicians give the preference in males to the 
 baritone, and in females to the mezzo-soprano, as being the most expres- 
 sive generally, as well as the most serviceable and permanent. 
 
 Dr. Hunt asserts that all these various descriptions of voices depend, 
 mainly, both on the dimensions and length of the vocal cords, but other 
 circumstances must, however, be taken into consideration. It is certain, 
 at all events, that an elastic ligament of a certain thickness will yield a 
 deeper tone than a hgament of the same length and tension, but thinner 
 in structure. The physiologist Harless found on examination that the 
 vocal cords of old people are much thinner in proportion to their length 
 than those of children, whose vocal cords are much thicker. Moreover, 
 the character of the voice is besides determined by the elastic capacity 
 of the vocal cords. There can be no question but that stretched liga- 
 ments must, cceteris paribus, yield a higher normal sound than slackened 
 ones, and it is chiefly upon this difference that the varieties of bass, 
 baritone, and tenor depend in men, and contralto, mezzo-soprano, and 
 soprano depend in women. Merkel, a name of high authority that I 
 have quoted before, states that the vocal cords of high tenors and 
 sopranos are generally thinner, proportionately, though not narrower, 
 than those of bass and contralto voices.
 
 90 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. 
 
 It may be interesting' to you to know what are ihc physical requisites 
 that, taken collectively, may be said to constitute the ideal of perfection, 
 and if the intellect, judgment, imagination, and taste be of equal 
 excellence, to form the highest type of public speaker, reader, or singer. 
 The physical requisites, then, are these, according to the best medical 
 and scientific authorities : — a large, well-developed, and elastic chest ; 
 lungs well-proportioned in size and sound, and healthy in condition : 
 neck of proper dimensions and muscular, but not too long ; the thyroid 
 gland sufficiently developed to receive the disposable blood, and to 
 sustain the exercise of the voice without any hoarseness or sense of 
 fatigue, nor should it be in a state of hypertropy, for if it is so, the 
 gland then presses unduly upon the veins of the neck, and renders the 
 movements of the larynx more difficult The larynx itself should be 
 rather above the average size. The two portions of the thyroid cartilage, 
 but especially the arytaenoid cartilages, must be perfectly symmetrical, 
 and the all-important vocal cords should be perfectly elastic, and exactly 
 opposite to each other. It is also very necessary that the ventricles of 
 the larynx and the frontal sinuses should be larger, in order to give full 
 resonance to the voice. Dr. Hunt remarks that as the tongue, the 
 soft palate, and the uvula undoubtedly exercise a paramount influence 
 on the modulation of the voice, it is essential that these organs should 
 be in a perfectly healthy condition as regards volume, texture, and 
 mobility. It has been observed that the thinner and more movable the 
 soft palate, the more flexible is the voice ; and that those with whom it is 
 comparatively thick have voices stronger but less flexible. It is hardly 
 necessary, after what I have already said in a former lecture, for me to 
 repeat that the hard palate, the nasal passages, the lips, and the teeth 
 should all be well formed and in good condition. 
 
 Herr Georges says very truly, in his " Guide to Vocalisation," that 
 the thorough cultivation of the voice requires as much labour, ability, 
 and care as the study of the piano or violin ; and if it ensures success 
 sooner than these instruments, it simply proves its superiority over 
 them ; but with equal truth I believe I can say that, although there 
 may be comparatively but few persons possessing all the essential 
 requisites to become pre-eminently great speakers, readers, or singers, 
 there are still fewer who cannot by judicious cultivation arrive at some 
 excellence, and I am sure my own experience among the many 
 hundreds of pupils that I have had in this College since the time I 
 was first appointed to my present Lectureship here, fully justifies me in 
 asserting (without any reference to private pupils, who necessarily have 
 much more individual care, time, and attention bestowed upon them) 
 that there is no voice which may not, under judicious instruction by 
 the teacher, and careful practice on the part of the pupil, be wonderfully 
 improved in tone, strength, volume, and compass : and a similar remark 
 in regard to the matter of articulation in cases of defective utterance or 
 impediments of speech, may with equal truth be made. This holds 
 good, I am sure relatively, though certainly not in the same degree, 
 with regard to all ages of life, as you know in our Public Reading and 
 Speaking Classes in this College we have had among our students all
 
 Lect. VII.] ON ELOCUTIO.V. 91 
 
 ages, from sixteen to sixty, just as we have had all professions repre- 
 sented. Of course, in early youth and manhood, the vocal organs and 
 muscles generally are more flexible, and consequently more susceptible 
 of improvement, than they are when the culture of the voice is taken 
 up for the first time at mature or advanced life ; but still I say again 
 from what I have remarked among my pupils, here and elsewhere, there 
 is no age at which the voice may not be greatly improved under judicious 
 instruction and careful practice. 
 
 As I shall have in this and subsequent Lectures to speak of the sound- 
 wave and other kindred technical terms, it may not be out of place here 
 if I give you a few brief facts which I hope may be of some interest to 
 you respecting sound in general, and of the sound of the human voice in 
 particular ; but for all full details I would refer you to the admirable 
 course of lectures on Sound recently delivered by Professor Tyndall 
 at the Royal Institution, and which are published in the Annual Trans- 
 actions of that Society. 
 
 Whensoever the molecules of matter of which any solid body is 
 composed are by a blow, or some other disturbing force, thrown into 
 a state of agitation, they will communicate it to all surrounding bodies 
 composed similarly of molecules or atoms, as the smallest conceivable 
 ultimate particles of which matter is composed are termed. Thus we 
 commonly speak of the molecules in a block of wood and of the atoms 
 in a certain quantity of gas or air. The alternate motions to and fro 
 which are the result of the disturbed equilibrium of the component 
 molecules or atoms are called vibrations, waves, undulations, or oscilla- 
 tions. You strike a bell, for instance, a powerful blow with a hammer. 
 What instantly takes place on the impact of the hammer upon the bell? 
 The molecules of which the metal of the bell is composed are no sooner 
 driven in by the force of the blow, than they are urged back beyond 
 their former position by repulsion, and again carried beyond their 
 position of repose by cohesive attraction. All the adjoining particles 
 of the metal of the bell being necessarily affected, the whole mass will 
 partake of the vibratory motion, which will only cease after a certain 
 time has elapsed, longer or shorter, in proportion to the force of the 
 concussion. 
 
 Now these vibrations may be transmitted through any substance, 
 whether liquid, solid, or aeriform ; but the ordinary medium by which 
 these undulations are propagated is the atmosphere, and when these 
 waves or vibrations reach the brain by means of the auditory nerves 
 through the ear, the sensation we experience is termed sound. That 
 it is necessary there should be a proper medium for thus transmitting 
 these vibrations is perfectly demonstrable ; for, if we ring a bell under 
 the exhausted receiver of an air-pump, we can scarcely perceive any 
 sound at all ; but, as we gradually let in the air again, the sound of the 
 ringing, or vibrations of the particles of which the metal of the bell is 
 composed, becomes more and more audible in proportion to the quan- 
 tity of air readmitted. So, too, when we stand on the summit of a 
 lofty alpine peak and attempt to speak or sing, not only do we experi- 
 ence a difficulty in doing so from the rarity of the air we are breathing,
 
 92 KIS'G'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. 
 
 but the sound we produce as voice is for the same reason audible only 
 at a comparatively short distance. These vibrations, too, may be distinctly 
 felt as well as heard ; for if you take an ordinary dessert finger-glass, half 
 fill it with water, then dip the finger in water and gently rub the edge 
 of the glass with the end of the finger so wetted in a circular direction, 
 not only will a musical sound be produced, but, if you gently touch the 
 outside of the glass with the fingers of the other hand, you will distinctly 
 feel the vibrations of the particles of which the glass is composed. Or, if 
 you take up a tuning-fork and strike it, and suddenly stop it with the 
 finger, you will at once feel a peculiar sensation arising from the fork 
 rapidly striking the finger. But these vibrations may not only be heard 
 as sound by the ear, and felt by the sense of touch — they may also be 
 actually seen by the eye, and most wonderful and interesting are the 
 figures produced by these vibrations, as seen in that form, called after 
 the discoverer, Chladni's Figures. These are the figures which are 
 exhibited by fine sand, when strewn upon a horizontal plate, clamped at 
 one point, and set in vibration by a violin bow. The formation of the 
 figure is an immediate consequence of the formation of nodal lines, or 
 lines of rest. If the plate used be square, and clamped in the middle, 
 the lowest, or fundamental note, is produced when the plate vibrates in 
 four segments. Now, if the finger be lightly placed at one corner, and 
 the bow be drawn across the edge at the centre of one of the adjacent 
 sides, the only lines of rest will be the two diagonals. These will divide 
 the square into four segments, of which the two opposite ones are always 
 in the act of ascending and descending, while the neighbouring segments 
 are so related, that when one is going up, its neighbours are going down, 
 and vice versa. The particles of sand are tossed about as long as they 
 are upon the moving segments, but when they fall upon the nodal lines 
 (in this case the diagonals), they remain at rest. The result is that the 
 sand quickly accumulates on these lines. A square plate may also be 
 made to vibrate in four segments, by touching the centre of one of the 
 sides with the finger and drawing the bow across the corner. The lines 
 of rest in this case are the two straight lines joining the centre of the 
 opposite sides. Now, if in either of the above cases, the finger being 
 placed as before, the bow be drawn more lightly and rapidly, it is pos- 
 sible to make the plate sound the higher octave. This is immediately 
 exhibited by the nodal lines, four curved fresh lines not crossing the 
 original ones being produced, so that the whole plate is now divided 
 into eight segments. By varying the point at which the finger is placed 
 and the bow drawn, a countless variety of figures of great beauty may 
 be produced. The number may be still further increased by varying 
 the point at which the plate is clamped. In all cases the point touched 
 by the finger, and all symmetrically situated points, are the extremities 
 of the lines of rest, while the point scraped by the bow, and all symme- 
 trically situated points, are in maximum vibration. The relation between 
 the pitch of the note and the number of segments in which the plate is 
 divided, is well shown by means of a circular disk, clamped in the centre. 
 If the finger and bow are one-eighth of the circumference apart, the 
 segments are four in number, and the fundamental note is produced.
 
 Lect. VII.] O.V ELOCUTIOy. 93 
 
 If the distance between the two is one-sixteenth of the circumference, 
 the higher octave is produced, and so on. Circular segments may be 
 obtained by clamping the circular disk, eccentrically making a hole in 
 the centre, and drawing a few horse hairs through it. The point where* 
 the plate is clamped will be a point in the nodal circle. The same effect 
 may be shown in a still more striking manner by fastening a rod of wood 
 or brass to the centre of the disk and (holding the rod in the middle) 
 setting it in longitudinal vibration by rubbing it with resined leather. 
 Sand then strewn on the disk will arrange itself in the rings of nodal 
 lines, which will be more numerous the shorter the rod. Sand figures 
 produced in any of these ways may be rendered permanent by transfer- 
 ring them to blackened paper, the surface of which has been moistened 
 by gum. If iron filings be used for the purpose of exhibiting these 
 most curious experiments instead of sand, they may be exposed to the 
 vapour of nitro-hydrochloric acid until some perchloride of iron is 
 formed ; then, if a piece of white paper, moistened with ferro-cyanide of 
 potassium, is pressed upon them, the forms assumed by the iron filings 
 will print themselves indelibly in deep blue. I have entered into all 
 these curious particulars for the purpose of showing you what a marvel- 
 lous, interesting, and beautiful phenomenon sound is, and what mysteries 
 are involved in it past our comprehension. 
 
 Sound, if the atmosphere is in suitable condition, may be propagated 
 to very great distances. It is recorded in one of the Polar Expeditions 
 that, over a level surface, the air being calm and frosty, Lieut. Foster 
 was able to make his voice heard and carry on a conversation with a 
 person at a distance from him of fully a mile, if not more. But this 
 distance is trifling compared to what is stated in the " Philosophical 
 Transactions" of 1708, on the authority of Derham, who asserts that 
 the human voice has been heard across the Straits of Gibraltar, that is 
 to say, upwards of ten miles. 
 
 The fact that all sounds proceed in waves of greater or less length 
 and of greater or less number in a moment of time, will at once explain 
 the cause of the annoyance to which a speaker or reader is liable when 
 he is addressing an audience in a large hall, not well constructed on 
 acoustic principles, and finds his words coming back to him in a kind 
 of reverberation or echo. When sound-waves impinge upon a hard sur- 
 face, or a surface more or less elastic, they are partly transmitted and 
 partly reflected, causing often an echo ; and, with regard to the direction 
 of the sound-wave reflected from a surface, it is found to follow exactly 
 the same law as the reflection of light and heat, viz., that the path of the 
 sound-wave after reflection makes precisely the same angle with the 
 reflecting surface, if plane, as it did before reflection. The curvature of 
 the walls in the interior of many public buildings is such, that the sound 
 of the voice when the speaker is near one wall will often be twice 
 reflected, so that those who are situated at a corresponding point near the 
 opposite wall will hear the speaker quite distinctly, while those between 
 the two, and, therefore, nearer the speaker, will fail to do so. When 
 a person is obliged to speak or read under such disadvantageous cir 
 cumstances, the only suggestion I can offer to mitigate the difficulty he
 
 94 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. 
 
 will have in making his words heard, is to be slower and more deliberate 
 than usual, to make the proper grammatical and other pauses in the 
 construction of his sentences of somewhat longer duration, and to be 
 •very firm and careful in the use of all the articulating organs, tongue, lips, 
 &c., so as to lessen the confusion of sounds as much as possible. 
 
 Sounds are distinguished from each other by their intensity, pitch, 
 or timbre. The intensity or loudness of a sound will always depend on 
 the extent of the vibrations of the sounding body. By varying the 
 force of the concussion, as when we beat a drum, or when we put our 
 vocal cords in action in speaking or singing, by directing the current of 
 air against them through the windpipe and larynx ; by varying the force 
 of the impact and rendering it more or less powerful, we can from the 
 same instrument produce at will sounds differing in degrees of loudness. 
 The intensity of the sound heard by us will also depend on our nearness 
 or remoteness from it, and sound also in this respect seems subject to 
 the same law as light — viz., that it will diminish in force in proportion 
 to the square of the distance. This law, however, only applies to sounds 
 that reach us immediately from the instrument that produces them 
 through the medium of the air ; for when sounds are confined within 
 tubes, as in the case of the speaking-trumpet, so that the sound-waves 
 cannot diverge, but are successively reflected from the sides of the in- 
 terior of the trumpet, the voice may be conveyed to a very considerable 
 distance, which, but for such an instrument, it could not, under opposing 
 circumstances (such as when the captain gives his orders to his crew on 
 board ship in a gale of wind), possibly have reached. In this way even 
 whispers may be rendered audible at a long distance, as in the case of 
 the common india-rubber speaking-tube, so lamiliar to us in our counting- 
 houses and offices. 
 
 Since the last edition of these Lectures was jiublished, a marvellous 
 advance has been made in our acquaintance with and command over 
 the phenomena of sound, by the inventions of the telephone, the 
 phonograph, and the microphone. A few short years ago and it would 
 almost have seemed like some of the fair)- gifts in the " Arabian Nights," 
 had we been told that articulate speech would ere long be transmitted 
 from a speaker to a hearer a hundred miles away, and heard distinctly ; 
 that speech itself should be registered and reproduced at will ; and 
 perhaps, most wonderful of all, that feeble sounds, so feeble indeed as 
 to be absolutely inaudible to the human ear, should be so magnified as 
 to be heard with an intensity and power almost painful miles away ; and 
 yet such are the marvels accomplished by the telephone (invented by 
 Mr. Graham Bell), the phonograph (which we owe to Mr. Edison of 
 New Jersey, in the United States, who has still further developed the 
 powers of the telephone), and the microphone (for which we are indebted 
 to Professor D. E. Hughes of London). An excellent account of these 
 wonderful triumphs of science, revised by Professor Huxley, will be found 
 in the number of the "Nineteenth Century " for June 187S. Another 
 singular instrument for making visible the changes of figure produced 
 by sound, called the phoneidoscope, has also quite recently been invented 
 by Mr. Sedley Taylor.
 
 Lect. VII.] ON ELOCUTIOy: 95 
 
 In the phonograph and in the telephone, a thin metal disk is thrown 
 into a state of vibration by the human voice. In order to make such 
 vibrations visible, Mr. Sedley Taylor takes advantage of the extreme 
 tenuity of a film of soap, like that of a soap-bubble. This fprms a 
 resonant medium of great delicacy, which strikingly exhibits to the 
 eye the agitation which it suffers when in the neighbourhood of a 
 sounding body. 
 
 The phoneidoscope consists of a cylindrical brass tube, of L-shape, 
 having one of its limbs horizontal and the other vertical. The horizontal 
 limb is furnished with a caoutchouc tube, which terminates in a wooden 
 mouthpiece. The open end of the vertical limb is surmounted by a 
 brass ring which supports a blackened brass disk pierced with an 
 aperture, which varies in size and shape in different disks. This aperture 
 is covered with a film of viscous soap-solution, which soon becomes 
 sufficiently thin to reflect the well-known iridescent colours which confer 
 such beauty upon a common soap-bubble. On singing near the mouth- 
 piece, the air in the tube is thrown into a state of vibration, and thic 
 motion is immediately taken up by the soap- film. The rainbow-tinted 
 bands of colour share in the movement, and arrange themselves in 
 definite forms. Regular curved bands may be seen to alternate with 
 eddies of colour which rapidly revolve around fixed centres. An endless, 
 variety of patterns may thus be obtained, and as the film grows thinner 
 and thinner the colours often become extremely gorgeous. The shape 
 and size of the film exert considerable influence on the character of the 
 colour-figures, as may be seen by using disks with apertures of different 
 forms and magnitude. Change of pitch produces remarkable changes 
 in the reflected figures ; and it may generally be noted that the com- 
 plexity of the coloured pattern increases with the acuteness of the 
 sound. Differences oi timbre, or quality, also has its effects upon these 
 phenomena, as is well seen by sounding the same note on different 
 mstruments, and marking the corresponding changes in the colour- 
 figures. It appears, however, that variations in intensity or loudness of 
 sound, though not without effect on the rate of motion of the figures, 
 do not produce decided changes of pattern. 
 
 In Cliladni's experiments, the sonorous vibrations of a plate of glass 
 or metal are rendered visible by means of sand lightly strewn over the 
 surface of the sounding body. In the phoneidoscope a medium of 
 exquisite delicacy is substituted for the glass or metal ; and the inter- 
 loliated colours displayed by this gossamer give an entirely novel and 
 beautiful effect to the experiment. 
 
 Another wonderful instrument has also recently been invented by 
 Mr. Rhodes, called the audiphone, by which sounds may be heard even 
 by those persons who are quite deaf to them if attempted to be con- 
 veyed by the external ear. 
 
 The " Philadelphia Ledger" gives an interesting account of a public 
 experiment with this remarkable invention upon deaf mutes at an 
 asylum in that city. The audiphones exhibited were of two kinds. 
 The conversational audiphone is fan-like and made entirely of hard 
 rubber. The fan itself is a very thin plate of rubber about eight inches
 
 96 AGING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. 
 
 square. A siik cord is attaclied to the plate near its upper edge, and 
 passing down through the handle where it is held by a clutch, is used to 
 bend the plate over. Having been bent over, the convex side of the 
 plate is held towards the source of sound, while the upper edge is 
 pressed against the edge or end of one or more of the upper teeth, the 
 eye-teeth generally giving the best results. The vibrations of the upper 
 edge of the disks caused by sounds impart the sound-waves to the teeth, 
 and through the auditory nerve to the brain. The " opera audiphone," 
 for use at lectures, concerts, &:c., is similar to the other, except that it 
 has two plates or disks, which, on being bent down, describe two different 
 curves, so that they are an inch or more apart in the centre, whilst the 
 edges of both disks are pressed against the teeth. By the use of this 
 a deaf mute can hear the sound of his own voice. Mr. Rhodes, the 
 inventor, explained that in trying experiments in many asylums he had 
 found that where the conditions were the same the results were the 
 same — with good brains, good auditory nerves, and good teeth, the deaf 
 mutes could hear well. Where, however, any of these conditions were 
 absent, the hearing would be imperfect. Where people have been 
 totally deaf and, as a consequence, are mutes, the audiphone may be 
 efficient in conveying sound, but cannot make them understand. It is, 
 however, very useful in educating them. The general result of the 
 experiment on the occasion in question was satisfactory, the audiphone 
 being certainly capable of improving the hearing of some of the deaf 
 mutes. A little practice is sometimes needed to enable the deaf person 
 to hear distinctly, and bad teeth or loosely-fitted false ones are an 
 impediment to the transmission of sound-waves through them. 
 
 Now, with regard to the pitch, tone, or note, in the musical scale, 
 whether of the human voice as produced by the vocal cords, or of the 
 string of the harp, or any other instrument that depends entirely upon 
 the number of vibrations or sound-waves that take place in a second of 
 time, the less frequent the vibrations of a sounding-body, the graver 
 or lower in the scale will be the sound produced, and the more frequent 
 the vibrations, the higher or more acute will be the sound that is heard. 
 The lower or graver the sound, the longer in extent is each of the sound- 
 waves produced by the vibrations ; and the higher and more acute, the 
 shorter is each wave. "It has been generally assumed," says Dr. Hunt, 
 "that the lowest or gravest sound which the human ear is capable of 
 perceiving is formed of thirty-two vibrations in a second." M. Savart, 
 on the other hand, from numerous experiments, has come to the 
 conclusion that the perceptive power of man in relation to musical 
 sounds, extends from only seven vibrations in a second, to the enormous 
 number of twenty-four thousand vibrations in a second. 
 
 Dr. Wollaston considered that the power of the human ear to perceive 
 sounds in regard to rapid vibrations, extended but a very few notes 
 above the sound produced by the field cricket. He states that he had 
 known several persons whose hearing was considered generally good, 
 but who had never been able to hear the chirping of the common house 
 cricket ; whence he concluded that the faculty of hearing certain notes 
 did not depend so much upon the intensity of the sound as upon the
 
 Lect. VII.] O.V elocution. 97 
 
 pitch or number of vibrations in a second. It is asserted that the chirp 
 of the long-eared bat is the most acute sound produced by any animal, 
 and that on the average in a company of six persons, there will be found 
 one who cannot distinguish the sound. The timbre, quality, expression, 
 or clang, depends on the nature of the vibrating body, whether it be the 
 vocal cords of the human larynx, or the strings of the harp, or the tube 
 of the trumpet, or any other kind of musical instrument. By the term 
 is understood a certain peculiarity which enables us to discriminate the 
 individual voices of two speakers or singers, or two similar notes in the 
 scale produced by two different instruments of the same description, 
 such as the piano or violin. A distinguishable sound composed of 
 precisely double the number of vibrations is termed its octave, and the 
 intermediate seven sounds form the diatonic scale or gamut, as it is 
 usually termed in music. 
 
 What constitutes the difference between musical sounds and those 
 sounds which we call mere noises ? This — that musical sound is the 
 result of periodic, isochronous, or equal-toned vibrations of the atmo- 
 sphere, i.e., vibrations following one another at an appreciable pace or 
 rate. Sounds of which the vibrations are irregular in their succession, 
 and the pace of which is therefore inappreciable, are mere noises. 
 
 Though instances are to be met with of persons wholly insensible to 
 the beauty of musical sounds, whether of the human voice or of some 
 instrument of music, and who cannot even distinguish between one air 
 or tune and another (Dr. Johnson, the great lexicographer, was one to 
 whom all music, however excellent, sounded as mere noise), yet still, 
 for the enjoyment of mankind, such instances are comparatively rare ; 
 and to most ears musical sounds are much more agreeable than 
 unmusical. Music is undoubtedly preferable, and by the world in 
 general is preferred to mere noise. But musical sounds have the 
 advantage not only from the pleasure they afford the ear and mind, 
 but isochronous vibrations, which I have said from that very fact 
 constitute musical sounds, are far more extensive in their range than 
 others, and are audible and appreciable at far greater distances. As 
 Professor Hullah says in familiar language, music "travels farther" 
 than noise, and this is equally true of the music of speech, as of the 
 music of song or any other kind of music. The recognition of this 
 unquestionable fact can be traced up to the earUest dawn of oratory. 
 You may perceive its truth when you listen to the oldest and simplest 
 form of ecclesiastical chant, or even in the nature-prompted utterance 
 of some street criers. If you have been in Paris in the autumn and 
 listened, as I often have, to the peculiar musical cry of " Pommes de 
 Chartreux," or in Edinburgh at the herring season, and heard the 
 Newhaven "fishwives" call out their "caller herring and cod" (an 
 illustration quoted by Professor Hullah, with the exact notes in the 
 musical scale given to each syllable), I think you must have been 
 struck, as I have often been, with the enormous distances, compara- 
 tively, to which not merely the sounds but the words conveyed by 
 them reached the ear.* 
 
 * A most able and interesting article appeared in the " Westmins.ter Review" 
 
 G
 
 98 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VII. 
 
 I am entering into all these details for the purpose of gradually lead- 
 ing you on, and preparing you, I hope, to understand more easily the 
 important subject on which I shall enter in my next Lecture — viz., the 
 Inflections of the Voice ; and now, for the rest of my remarks this even- 
 ing, I must once for all express my great obligations to Professor 
 Hullah for the illustrations he has given, and views he has advanced in 
 his excellent book so recently published, in support of those theories 
 and principles which I have endeavoured every session for nearly 
 twenty years to impress upon the minds of all the students who have 
 attended my classes in this College ; and I gladly avail myself of his 
 high authority to confirm now what I have always' maintained and 
 advocated. 
 
 "The first person" (says Professor Hullah) "who ever attempted to 
 address a very large assembly must have discovered, by the time he 
 had uttered a dozen words, that if what he had to say was to be made 
 not only audible but intelligible to any but those immediately 
 about him, his utterance must be partially musical ; and that the more 
 numerous his audience, and the larger his auditorium, the more musical 
 must that utterance be. If it is true, then, which few will be found to 
 dispute, that musical is more agreeable than any other kind of sound ; 
 and (which may not be at first equally obvious, but is equally true) that 
 musical is audible over a greater area than any other kind of sound, 
 — it would seem desirable to introduce as much as possible of it into 
 our utterance, whether it be addressed to few or to many, in small places 
 or in large. Indeed, universal assent to this might seem to be implied 
 in the epithet, more than any other, by which a pleasing voice is char- 
 acterised. The epithets strojig, dear, siveet (figurative all three), are no 
 doubt familiar to us in connection with voices ; as are their opposites, 
 feeble, husky, and harsh. But, by universal consent, the highest tribute 
 to the excellence of a voice is conveyed in the word viiisical, not used 
 figuratively or analogically, but simply and directly. By a musical 
 voice is always meant a voice, the very sound of which gives pleasure, 
 although irrespective of, or (it may be safer to say) over and above the 
 sense conveyed by it." 
 
 It would seem that the sweetness and power of vocal utterance are 
 greater or less as they are more or less musical ; and, to advance 
 another step, that words spoken fall more or less pleasantly upon the 
 ear, and also spread themselves over a larger area, as they approximate 
 to, or partake of, the character of words sung. Yet the two acts of 
 speaking and singing are different acts notwithstanding ; they have their 
 different uses and their different occasions of use — occasions when it 
 would be most inconvenient and impertinent to exchange them. And 
 unless we keep this in mind we may injure both ; rob song of its special 
 charm and make speech ridiculous. How is speech to be made more 
 musical without being turned into song? We shall be able to answer 
 this question more confidently by and by. As a good preliminary 
 
 for October 1875, on Helmholtz's work, the " Sensations of Tone as a Physiological 
 Basis for the Theory of Music," and Professor Tyndali's Lectures on Sound delivered 
 at the Royal Institution.
 
 Lect. VII.] ON ELOCUTION. 99 
 
 foundation for what I shall enter upon fully in my next Lecture, let us 
 ascertain what are the particulars in which speech and song essentially 
 differ from, as well as resemble, each other. 
 
 In speech, then, the voice glides up and down what, by an allowable 
 figure, may be called an inclined plane ; in song it makes steps, the 
 proportion of which to one another are ascertained. 
 
 Speech is for the most part heard only during the passage of the 
 voice from one sound to another : it is the result of intervals ; in song 
 intervals are traversed silently, and the voice is heard only on sounds — 
 the terms or boundaries of intervals. The variations of the inflections of 
 the voice in speech may be compared to the effect produced by sliding 
 the finger up and down the vibrating string, such as that of the violin 
 Avhen it is being played on ; those in song to that produced by " stop- 
 ping" such a string at certain points and at no others. In brief, speech 
 consists almost exclusively (for we do not often make use of the stac- 
 cato in delivery) of coficrete sounds ; song almost exclusively of discrete 
 sounds. 
 
 But as the differences between speech and song are great, so also are 
 their resemblances. True speech consists of concrete, and song of 
 discrete sounds ; but sounds are sounds, whether concrete or discrete. 
 Moreover, in speech and in song they are produced by the same 
 instrument — the voice ; and though in a somewhat different manner, 
 yet by the same mechanism, and governed by the same laws ; similar 
 varieties of pitch, intensity, and even tirnbre resulting from its action on 
 both, only resulting more frequently and rapidly in the music of speech 
 than in the music of song ; and when all those elements which form the 
 music of speech are developed and cultivated by judicious instruction, 
 based upon sound and scientific principles on the part of the teacher, 
 and regular and careful practice on the part of the pupil, the process by 
 which those elements are brought to their highest attainable perfection 
 is that which I understand by what is called the "Art of Elocution." 
 
 An excellent translation of Hehnholtz's work, the " Sensations of 
 Tone as a Physiological Basis for the Theory of Music," by INIr. A. G. 
 Ellis, has recently been published by Messrs. Longmans, which is well 
 worthy of being read by the student who feels an interest in further 
 investigating the subject. 
 
 The question of the composition and length of waves of sound is 
 fully discussed in the second chapter. As an analogy, the various 
 simultaneous waves produced on water are exemplified, and we are told 
 that we must imagine the same kind of action taking place in the air. 
 In a crowded ball-room, for instance, we have the various sounds of the 
 musical instruments, the rustling of dresses, the voices of men and 
 women, and so on; and here "we have to imagine that from the mouths 
 of men, and from the deeper musical instruments, there proceeds waves 
 of from eight to twelve feet in length ; from the lips of the women, 
 waves of two to four feet in length ; from the rustling of the dresses 
 a fine, small crumple of wave, and so on ; in short, a tumbled entangle- 
 ment of the most different kinds of motion, complicated beyond con- 
 ception." See review of Mr. Ellis's translation of Helmholtz's work in 
 the "Quarterly Journal of Science" for October 1875.
 
 100 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect, VII. 
 
 I must, ere I close this Lecture, revert once more to the subjects 
 of the transmission of voice and speech by the telephone, and their 
 reproduction by the phonograph, in consequence of certain facts 
 and discoveries regarding them having only just now been com- 
 municated to me, and which I state on the authority of the Comte du 
 Moncel, Member of the French Institute. The first experiment, 
 although easily performed, has only been suggested a few months ago by 
 a Pennsylvanian newspaper. It consists in the transmission of speech 
 by a telephone simply laid on some part of the human body adjacent 
 to the chest. It has been asserted that any part of the body will 
 produce this effect ; but, according to Comte du Moncel's experience, 
 he could only succeed when the telephone was firmly applied to his 
 chest. Under such conditions, and even through his clothes, he could 
 make himself heard when speaking in a very loud voice ; from which it 
 appears that the whole of the human body takes part in the vibrations 
 produced by the voice. In this case the vibrations are mechanically 
 transmitted to the diaphragm of the sending telephone, not by the air, 
 but by the body itself acting on the outside of the telephone. 
 
 Speaking of the phonograph, Comte du Moncel says : — " That as the 
 height of the notes of the musical scale depends on the number of 
 vibrations effected by a vibrating substance in a given time, speaking 
 will be reproduced in a tone of which the pitch will depend on the 
 velocity of rotation given to the cylinder on which the tinfoil is wound. 
 If the velocity is the same as that which was used in registration, the 
 tone of the words reproduced is the same as that in which they were 
 uttered. If the velocity is greater, the tone is higher ; if less, the tone 
 is lower ; but the accent of the speaker may always be recognised. 
 Owing to this peculiarity, the reproduction of songs is nearly always 
 defective in instruments turned by the hand ; they sing out of tune. 
 This is not the case when the instrument is moved by a well-regulated 
 system of clockwork, and in this way a satisfactory reproduction of a 
 duet has been obtained. 
 
 " The phonograph is still in its infancy, and it is probable that it may 
 soon be enabled to register speech without the necessity of speaking into 
 a mouthpiece. According to the newspapers, Mr. Edison has already 
 discovered a way of collecting, without the aid of an acoustic tube, the 
 sounds uttered at a distance of three or four feet from the instrument, 
 and of printing them on a metallic sheet. From this there is only a 
 step to the power of inscribing a speech uttered in a large hall at any 
 distance from the phonograph ; and if this step is taken, phonography 
 may be substituted with advantage for shorthand."
 
 LECTURE VIII. 
 
 Theory of the Inflections of the Human Voice — Practical illustration — Inflections of 
 the Voice as a means of expression natural to man— Remarks of the Abbe Thibout, 
 Mr. Darwin, Mr. Herbert Spencer, and Mr. Litchfield — The first attempt to reduce 
 the inflection of the Voice to a System of Notation made by Josliua Steele in 1775 
 in his " Prosodia Rationalis,"' David Garrick and Steele — The use of the Inflections 
 known to the Greek and Roman Orators — Quotation from Quintilian — Walker's 
 views in regard to the two Primary Inflections — Great importance of a knowledge 
 of the chief principles that govern the Inflections in regard to Elocution. 
 
 N this Lecture I have to enter fully upon what I think a 
 most interesting branch of our subject, viz., the inflections 
 of the human voice. What these are, and in what they 
 differ from the music of song, I endeavoured to explain in 
 the concluding part of my last Lecture. But to make the 
 matter clearer, let me take this personal and practical illustration : — I 
 assume that one of you is a man of quick intelligence and good powers 
 of imagination — one who can enter vividly into the feelings, passions, 
 and emotions contained in a fine poem or drama. I assume, too, that 
 he has become well skilled in that all-important point, the right mode 
 of managing the breath in inspiration, and its right control in expira- 
 tion when reading aloud or speaking in public ; so that all his clauses 
 and sentences can flow on smoothly, and without any failure as regards 
 purity of tone and power, and that he well observes the law^s of the prosody 
 of our language, that the vowels which are long are properly sustained 
 and finished after they have been truly formed, while there is no undue 
 prolongation of the vowels which are short, and that all the consonants 
 of his words are clearly articulated — On these assumptions, what shall 
 we have ? We shall have, at all events, a clear and audible voice and 
 a distinct pronunciation. But I assume that his acquaintance with the 
 art of Elocution has not gone beyond this — so for the effect of anything 
 he has to deliver, he must depend upon the guidance of his own taste, 
 feelings, and discretion. All these let us take to be good, that he is 
 free from any affectation or mannerism, and is a man gifted by nature 
 with a strong dramatic power in the true and high sense of the word, 
 that is, the power of truly conceiving to himself, and then conveying to 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CATJFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA
 
 I 
 
 102 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 Others, the various passions and emotions of humanity — I ask such a 
 man to read to me a scene from Shakespeare — one where the characters 
 introduced speak under the control of strongly contrasted passions and 
 emotions — for instance, the scene between Hubert and the young Prince 
 Arthur in King John (act iv. scene i). He reads the scene to us, and we 
 will take it for granted that he reads it thoroughly well, and at its close 
 we are conscious that he has made us quite feel all the apparent stern- 
 ness, harsh authority, and cruelty of Hubert, until the change takes place 
 in his character which is shown in the last three speeches he has to 
 utter ; and on the other hand, that our reader has made us feel, equally 
 well,all the affection, tenderness, and supphcation of the " little Prince " 
 as he pleads for mercy. Now if we have listened attentively to our 
 reader, what shall we have remarked ? This, in the first place — his voice 
 was not upon one note all the time, which may be represented thus 
 
 by a straight line. But as he read the speeches of Hubert, 
 
 his voice will have been descending in the musical scale for the most 
 
 part, which may be represented thus X^ while, as he gave 
 
 expression to all Arthur's prayers 'and supplications, his voice will on 
 the contrary have been rising in the scale, as thus 7 - 
 
 Now these ascents and descents of the voice are what are termed the 
 inflections of the voice ; and as the voice rises or slides upward on a 
 number greater or less of concrete notes in the musical scale (to use 
 Professor Hullah's. expression) it is called a rishig inflection: and on 
 the other hand, as the voice in the same manner descends in the 
 musical scale, it is called d, falling inflection. These are the two great 
 divisions of the ordinary simple inflections of the voice in speakit>g or 
 reading. But you do not imagine that all the effect given to the 
 dialogue that I assume to have been read with so much true expression, 
 was gained by the reader employing these two inflections only. No, 
 there were other inflections also often employed of which, in due time, 
 I hope I shall be able to give you a clear explanation. There were 
 also many changes in what is termed the modulation of the voice 
 — there was proper observance of the great physiological law of 
 poise, besides due judgment in discrimination shown in the degrees of 
 emphasis that are given to what are called the rhetorical words 
 in each sentence ; and also other elements of expression, all of which 
 we shall sufficiently discuss and explain as we proceed in our course 
 of Lectures. But for the present I wish to confine your attention — (i) to 
 the subject of inflections generally, and (2) to these two classes of 
 inflections in particular. 
 
 I contend that in all emotional speech there is an increased prolon- 
 gation of the vowels, especially noticeable when they are long in point 
 of quantity in the principal words of the sentence in which they occur, 
 and this is produced quite automatically under the influence of the
 
 Lect. VIIL] ON ELOCUTION. 103 
 
 dominant emotion. The same thing takes place in the case of the 
 great actor when he embodies the emotion in the language uttered by 
 him in the character he is personating on the stage ; but with him it is 
 the result of studying the mode in which the language of emotion is 
 spoken by those who really feel it ; or else by stimulating his imaginative 
 faculty sufficiently to enable him to fully realise the emotion for the 
 time, and as it were project his mind into, and for the period in which 
 
 " He struts and frets his hour upon the stage," 
 
 seem to become the character he is representing. But whether the 
 cause be actual feeling, or close study and observation, or vivid imagi- 
 nation, the result will be the same. Just in the same manner as voice 
 can only be heard on vowels in the discrete notes of the music of song : 
 so it is only upon vowels, the voice can sustain the concrete notes that 
 form the simple rising and falling, or the compound or circumflex 
 inflections in the music of speech, and nature demands a sufficient 
 prolongation of these vowels in order to produce vocal waves of sufficient 
 duration on which she can as it were play, and have material enough to 
 render her inflections fully perceptible ; for without these inflections she 
 cannot render her emotions communicable in spoken language from one 
 human being to another. 
 
 How true this is may be shown by the following simple illustration. 
 I take just one brief speech from Shakespeare's play of " Measure for 
 Measure," and I read it first of all with what are termed wide ranges of 
 the rising inflections — and those inflections pitched in a comparatively 
 high key : — 
 
 " Go to your bosom ; 
 Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know 
 That's like my brother's fault. If it confess 
 A natural guiltiness, such as is his, 
 Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
 Against my brother's life." 
 
 Read in this way, I think it will be admitted it conveys an earnest, 
 pathetic appeal. Let it be read now a second time, but with what are 
 termed emphatic falUng inflections, and pitched in a low key, as thus : — 
 
 " Go to your bosom ; 
 Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know 
 That's like my brother's fault. If it confess, 
 A natural guiltiness, such as is his, 
 Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
 Against my brother's life." 
 
 Thus read, it will be perceived the impression made on the hearer is 
 wholly different, and though the words are still the same, they convey 
 to the mind, through the different impression made by these vocal waves 
 upon the ear, the idea of a stern command, instead of an earnest appeal. 
 
 Let the same passage be now re'^id a third time, in one unvarying key 
 and without any inflection at all, as thus : — 
 
 ^^ Go to your bosom ; 
 Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
 
 I 
 
 lOd KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 That's like my brother'' s fault. If it confess 
 A 7iatHral guiltiness, such as is his, 
 Let it not sound a thought upon, your tongue 
 Against 7ny brother s life." 
 
 Thus read, without any change in regard to modulation and without 
 any variation in inflection, it becomes almost meaningless, and conveys 
 no emotion whatever. ' 
 
 Now, what is it that causes such different feelings to be conveyed to 
 the mind, as the passage is read in these three different ways ? Why, 
 this — As read the first time, the voice is in every clause rising in the 
 musical scale ; as read the second time, the voice is descending in the 
 musical scale ; and as read the third time, the voice is little more than 
 a mere succession of monotones. 
 
 It seems to me that in the expression of these various passions and 
 emotions through the medium of the human voice, that there may be 
 traced a general prevailing law of antithesis — i.e., that if a particular 
 emotion is conveyed by a series of vocal waves rising in the musical 
 scale, and pitched in keys more or less high, it will be found that the 
 opposite emotion is expressed by a series of notes (or inflections, as 
 they are technically termed) descending in the musical scale and pitched 
 in keys more or less low. Let me endeavour to render this proposition 
 clear by an illustration. I take the emotion of prayer or supplication 
 as conveyed by the following lines : — 
 
 " O save me, Hubert, save me ! 
 For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bov'uid. 
 Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb. 
 O spare mine eyes ! 
 Though to no use, but still to look on you ! " 
 
 And here it cannot but be noticed that the voice is throughout, as the 
 lines are spoken, rising in the musical scale and pitched in high keys. 
 Now, what is the opposite to supplication? Surely command; and 
 accordingly, I take this passage embodying command, and let it be read 
 thus in low keys and with falling inflections : — 
 
 " Spirits of earth and air. 
 Ye shall not thiis elude nie. By a power 
 Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant spell, 
 Which had its birth-place in a star condemned, 
 The burning wreck of a demolished world, 
 A wandering hell in the eternal space ; 
 By the strong cinse which is upon my soul 
 The thought that is within me, and around me 
 I do compel ye to my will. Appear !" 
 
 And as this illustration is thus read, I think it must be equally perceptible 
 that the voice is descending in the musical scale, and that it is pitched 
 in low keys. 
 
 I do not think sufficient attention has been paid hitherto to the great 
 influence which the free movements of the whole neck, alike upward 
 and downward, exercise in facilitating the production of the higher and 
 lower keys and inflections of the voice in the music of speech. I have,
 
 h 
 
 Lect. VIII. j on elocution. io5 
 
 for some time past, paid considerable attention to the attitudes taken 
 by great orators, preachers, and actors, and more especially by those 
 of France and Italy, who certainly, in general, in the expression of 
 emotions, indulge more freely and unrestrainedly in movement, attitude, 
 and gesture, as well as the expression of countenance, than those of 
 our own country ; and I have invariably noticed that when making 
 earnest, pathetic appeals, or expressing hope, love, or joy, or giving 
 utterance to surprise or wonder, the whole neck has been more or less 
 elevated ; while the keys and inflections of the voice have, at the same 
 time, been ranging high in the musical scale. On the other hand, when 
 giving utterance to solemn affirmation, stern denunciation, awe, gloom, 
 or dejection, the neck has been more or less depressed, while at the 
 same time the keys and inflections have all been low in pitch and range. 
 I cannot help, therefore, coming to the conclusion, that in powerful 
 emotional speech, it will be found that free and untrammelled move- 
 ments of the neck, either ascending or descending, according to the 
 emotion we have to express, do greatly facilitate the production of the 
 appropriate keys and inflections, according as they may be high in pitch 
 and rising in the musical scale, or low in pitch and falling in the musical 
 scale. The Abbe Thibout in his "Action Oratoire," p. 72, speaking of 
 the movements of the head and neck, says : — " On ne peut trop en regler 
 les mouvements, pour qu'ils ne presentent rien de choquant ni de 
 defectueux. . . . Evitez soigneusement de tenir la tete raide, comme 
 si vous aviez le torticolis. Aimez a I'elever avec modestie et a conformer 
 ses mouvements avec ceux des dpaules et de la main, quand vous 
 adressez la parole a Dieu, aux esprits celestes ; quand vous parlez du 
 soleil, des astres, des montagnes, &c., dans les eloges, dans la joie, 
 quand il faut en produise les sentiments. Baissez la tete dans la 
 tristesse, dans les recits lugubres, dans les sentiments de penitence, 
 dans les calamite's publiques, dont vous exposez I'image funeste, dans 
 I'aveu de vos faiblesses. En un mot, souvenons nous toujours que la 
 tete tient le premier rang dans Taction, entre les autres parties du 
 corps; qu'elle contribue plus qu'aucune autre aux agrements de la 
 prononciation." So also the great naturalist Buffon remarks : — " La 
 tete en entier prends dans les passions, des positions et des mouvements 
 differens ; elle est abaissee en avant dans Thumilite, la honte, la tristesse ; 
 penchee \ cote dans la langueur, la pitie ; elevee dans I'arrogance ; droite 
 et fixe dans I'opiniatrete ; la tete elevee fait un mouvement en arriere 
 dans I'etonnement, et plusieurs mouvements reiteres de cote ; et d'autres 
 dans le mepris, la moquerie, la colere et I'indignation." * 
 
 Mr. Lennox Browne in his translation and comments on Dr. Wit- 
 kowski's recent work on the mechanism of the larynx, says at p. 2, 
 quoting from the work, "The larynx is able from its mobility to take 
 part in the production of voice. For example, during the act of phona- 
 tion, the larynx is raised during the emission of acute sounds and 
 lowered for grave sounds, hence the attitude of tenors and crowing 
 cocks with the head raised." And, commenting on this, the translator 
 adds the following remark : — " In the translator's opinion this elevation 
 * Buftbn, Hist. Nat., 4th edit. vol. iv. p. 531.
 
 io6 /^LVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 and lowering of the larynx influences the pitch of the emitted note 
 by means of a corresponding shortening or lengthening of that portion 
 of the vocal apparatus which lies above the voice box, a corresponding 
 contraction in the diameter of the canal, both above and below, assisting 
 to the same result. By such a provision the vocal organ is not only 
 one with reeds, having power of alteration of length and size, but with 
 pipes, having a similar capability, both as regards conduction of the 
 motor force, air, and in emission of the note pitched." — Medical Hints 
 on the Production ajid Management of the Singing Voice (tenth thousand, 
 1S78), p. 27.* '^ 
 
 On this subject 1 also consulted a very eminent American physician, 
 Dr. Theo. H. Kellogg of New York, who most obligingly favoured me 
 with the following interesting letter, which I give in extenso : — • 
 
 "29 West 36TFI Street, New York, 
 A/>ri/ 2$f/i, 1879. 
 
 "My dear Friend, — Your welcome letter of April 12th has just 
 come to hand, and I have laid aside all work to give it an immediate 
 answer, and to express my regret that time should have stolen such a 
 silent march upon me since the receipt of your previous favour. 
 
 " You have raised a question of considerable interest in phonology, 
 in that matter about which you ask my opinion. I fully agree with you 
 in your very practical observations. The free movements of the larynx 
 certainly do exert a decided control over the pitch of the voice. It is 
 not easy to suggest a fully satisfactory theory for this fact. 
 
 " The vocal apparatus of man has striking resemblances to many 
 sound-producing instruments, and yet, considered as a whole, it is 
 perfectly unique. 
 
 " It is most nearly approached in its mechanism by strings, flute- 
 ])ipes, and reeds, and still it so far transcends these in the full range of 
 its possibilities, that it is in vain to seek in them for strictly analogous 
 laws to account for all its phenomena. 
 
 " It is only in a suggestive way, therefore, that I speak of the fact in 
 question in connection with certain points in acoustics which I venture 
 to recall to your mind. 
 
 "The pitch of a vibrating cord, depends in the first place on its 
 length. This fact accounts in a great measure for the natural varieties 
 of pitch in the human voice, viz., the basso, barytone, tenor, contralto, 
 and soprano registers, in which the cordce vocales diminish in length 
 in the order named. Many even explain the falsetto in like manner, 
 supposing the cords to vibrate in only a part of their length. 
 
 "The number of vibrations of a stretched cord, however, increases 
 also in direct ratio to the square root of the tension weight, and the 
 voice will accordingly undergo an elevation of pitch in proportion to 
 the force of contraction of the cricothyroid muscles, and the resulting 
 tension of the true vocal ligaments. Physiological experiments show 
 that this rule, though true in the main, cannot be applied with mathe- 
 matical exactness to the human larynx. 
 
 ■* Bailliere, Tindal, & Cox, King William Street, Strand. 1S7S, price is. 6d.
 
 Lect. VIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 107 
 
 " It is quite in keeping with your view, that the cricothyroid muscles 
 greatly depress the thyroid cartilage when they contract, and render 
 the vocal cords tense, just as the antagonistic thyroarytenoid muscles 
 elevate this part of the larynx when they act to relax the cords ; and 
 these movements of the larynx are certainly the concomitants, if not 
 the proximate cause, of the changes in pitch. 
 
 " The same holds true if we compare the vocal apparatus to a reed 
 instrument, with which it has stricter analogies, the vocal ligaments 
 representing the tongue, or double membranes drawn over the mouth 
 of an air-tube, the trachea, or rather between two tubes, considering 
 the air passages above the larynx as the second tube. And here, as in 
 the first instance, the tension of the cords is, of course, the chief 
 regulator of the pitch, though I am inclined to attach considerable 
 importance to the theory of harmonic and reciprocal vibration of the 
 tracheal column of air. 
 
 "It seems to me also, that no writer, unless it be yourself, has laid 
 sufficient stress on the remarkable changes in the voice produced by 
 muscular and tendinous contraction, not of the larynx alone, but also 
 of the neck, chest, and of all the internal organs which can be rendered 
 tense by volitional or emotional impulses. 
 
 " Your interesting observation, that there is a vigorous play of the 
 vocal organs only in impassioned orators, accords exactly with the 
 recent views of physiologists, who hold that the muscular movements 
 of speech are never the result of simple volition, but that they are always 
 the result of sensations or emotions. 
 
 " But I fear I shall try your patience if I extend these remarks, so I 
 hasten to express my extreme satisfaction that there is so soon to be a 
 third edition of your ' King's College Lectures on Elocution.' I assure 
 you I am not the only one in New York who will welcome the book. 
 
 " With kind regards, I am, most faithfully yours, 
 
 "THEO. H. KELLOGG, M.D. 
 " To Chas. J. Plumptre, Esq., 
 Maida Vale, London, N.W." 
 
 I think, therefore, it is clear that while the elevation of the whole 
 neck facilitates the production of the higher notes, alike in the music of 
 speech as of song, its depression renders more easy the production of 
 all those that are low in pitch. 
 
 Of course, this peculiar quality of the voice has been inherent in man 
 ever since he was endowed with speech ; and he has used it naturally, 
 and has developed its power more and more as his ideas multiplied, his 
 civilisation advanced, and reason, imagination, and the various emotions 
 of humanity were called into action. In the same manner has he used 
 modulation of the voice, carried out its poise, given emphasis to his 
 words, and, in fact, more or less employed all the other elements of 
 Elocution, in all ages and in all countries, guided by the instruction of 
 nature only : just as I assumed, a few minutes ago, that our reader of 
 Shakespeare, having had his voice cultivated and developed, but know- 
 ing nothing further of the principles of the art of Elocution, but guided
 
 io8 A'JjVG'S college LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 solely by the exercise of his intelligence and imagination, had read to 
 us and read well. Indeed, I cannot too earnestly impress upon you 
 that true Elocution must be the result of a close and scrutinising 
 examination of nature ; of a diligent observance of the principles on 
 which the inflections and other phenomena of the voice are based ; and 
 then of a scientific classification of these principles. 
 
 Thus the native Indian orator, whom Lord Erskine in the brilliant 
 peroration to his speech in defence of Stockdale, mentions as having 
 heard in his youth, and whom he describes as " a naked savage, holding 
 a bundle of sticks in his hand as the notes of his unlettered eloquence," 
 appears to have had all the resources of Elocution at his command. In 
 the same manner men and women in all ages, and often in the lowest 
 ranks of life, and wholly devoid of musical or any other education, have 
 yet sung, so as to not merely give even critical hearers pleasure by 
 the native beauty of their voices, but to touch their emotions by the 
 powers of expression the singers naturally possessed. I could give 
 instances of such vocalists of nature having fortunately been heard by 
 some discriminating bystander, who has afterwards sought them out, 
 removed them from their lowly sphere in life, given them a thorough 
 musical education, and has been rewarded by seeing the objects of his 
 beneficence eventually occupying a foremost position on the lyric stage. 
 Thus, good as they were before, proper cultivation of their gifts made 
 them far better ; and the same remark applies with equal truth to 
 Elocution, provided the instruction be sound and judicious, and the 
 practice of the pupil steady and persevering. 
 
 That a true system of developing and cultivating the inflections and 
 modulations of the human voice, so as to give the pupil eventually the 
 highest powers of expression of which the range of his voice is capable, 
 must be, and can only be, based on nature, is an assertion that I make 
 most emphatically. And I say so, because inflection and modulation 
 are inherent in man, and their employment is based on and governed by 
 the laws of his nature. 
 
 Mr. Darwin, in his recent most interesting work on "The Expression 
 of the Emotions in Man and Animals," * says at p. 36 : " The character 
 of the human voice under the influence of various emotions has been 
 discussed by Mr. Herbert Spencer in his interesting essay on music. 
 He clearly shows that the voice alters much under different conditions 
 in loudness and quality, that is, in resonance and fitnbre, in pitch and 
 intervals. No one can listen to an eloquent orator or preacher, without 
 being struck with the truth of Mr. Spencer's remarks. It is curious how 
 early in life the modulation of voice becomes expressive. With one of 
 my children, under the age of two years, I clearly perceived that his 
 ' humph ' of assent was rendered by a slight modulation strongly em- 
 ])hatic ; and that, by a peculiar whine, his negative expressed obstinate 
 determination. Mr. Spencer shows that emotional speech, in all the 
 above respects, is intimately related to vocal music, and consequently 
 to instrumental music ; and he attempts to explain the characteristic 
 
 • "The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals : " John Murray, Albe- 
 marle Street.
 
 Lect. VIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 109 
 
 qualities of both on physiological grounds, namely — on 'the general 
 law that a feeling is a stimulus to muscular action.' It maybe admitted 
 that the voice is affected through this law ; but the explanation appears 
 to me too general and vague to throw much light on the various differ- 
 ences, with the exception of that of loudness, between ordinary speech, 
 and emotional speech, or singing. This remark holds good, whether 
 we believe that the various qualities of the voice originated in speaking 
 under the excitement of strong feelings, and that the qualities have 
 subsequently been transferred to vocal music ; or whether we believe, 
 as I maintain, that the habit of uttering musical sounds was first 
 developed as a means of courtship in the early progenitors of man, and 
 thus became associated with the strongest emotions of which they were 
 capable, namely, ardent love, rivalry, and triumph. 
 
 "That animals utter musical notes is famihar to every one, as we may 
 daily hear in the singing of birds. It is a more remarkable fact, that an 
 ape, one of the gibbons, produces an exact octave of musical sounds, 
 ascending and descending the scale by half-tones, so that this monkey, 
 as Professor Owen says, ' alone of brute mammals may be said to sing.' 
 From this fact, and from the analogy of other animals, I have been led 
 to infer that the progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones 
 before they had acquired the power of speech, and that consequently 
 when the voice is used under any strong emotion, it tends to assume, 
 through the principle of association, a musical character. . . . That the 
 pitch of the voice bears some relation to certain slates of feeling is 
 tolerably clear. A person gently complaining of ill-treatment, or slightly 
 suffering, almost always speaks in a high-pitch voice. . . . Laughter 
 may be either high or low in pitch ; so that, with adult men, as Haller 
 long ago remarked, the sound partakes of the character of the vowels 
 (as pronounced in German) O and A ; whilst with women and children, 
 it has more of the character of E and I ; and these latter vowels 
 naturally have, as Helmholtz has shown, a higher pitch than the 
 former ; yet both tones of laughter equally express enjoyment or amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 In considering the mode in which vocal utterances express emotion, 
 we are naturally led to inquire into the cause of what is called " expres- 
 sion " in music. Upon this point Mr. Litchfield, who has long attended 
 to the subject of music, has been so kind as to give me the following 
 remarks. "The question. What is the essence of musical 'expression'? 
 involves a number of obscure points, which, so far as I am aware, are as 
 yet unsolved enigmas. Up to a certain point, however, any law which 
 is found to hold as to the expression of the emotion, must apply to the 
 more developed mode of expression in song, which may be taken as the 
 primary type of all music. A great part of the emotional effects of a 
 song depends upon the character of the action by which the sounds are 
 produced. . . . But this leaves unexplained the more subtle and specific 
 effect which we call the musical expression of a song, the delight given 
 by its melody, or even by the separate sounds which make up the melody. 
 This is an effect indefinable in language — one which, as far as I am 
 aware, no attempt has been made to analyse, and which the ingenious
 
 no KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 speculation of Mr. Herbert Spencer as to the origin of music leaves 
 quite unexplained. For it is certain that the melodic Q^toX of a series of 
 sounds does not depend in the least upon their loudness or softness, or 
 in their individual absolute pitch . . . The purely musical effect of any 
 sound depends on its place in what is technically called ' a scale ; ' the 
 same sound producing absolutely different effects on the ear, according 
 as it is heard in connectioti with one or another series of sounds.'^ 
 
 " It is on this relative association of the sounds that all the essentially 
 characteristic effects which are summed up in the phrase ' musical expres- 
 sion ' depend. But why certain associations of sound have such and 
 such effect is a problem which yet remains to be solved." 
 
 Now, all these remarks of Mr. Darwin, Mr. Herbert Spencer, and Mr. 
 Litchfield, in regard to the sounds which produce the music of song, 
 apply, more or less, to the sounds which produce the music of speech, 
 or, in other words, the inflections of the human voice. Why words 
 spoken in a certain key, descending by a series of concrete sounds in 
 the musical scale, should convey to the mind the idea of stern determined 
 will and command, as when a man (without even being seen) in such a 
 manner pronounces merely the four words, " Let me do this ; '"' and why 
 the very same words spoken in a different key, but with the voice 
 ascending in the musical scale, will convey the impression of earnest 
 entreaty and supplication, we cannot tell. They are ultimate facts 
 beyond which we cannot go — mysteries that we cannot penetrate. We 
 must rest content with the knowledge that the various inflections of the 
 voice do produce certain specific different impressions upon the mind ; 
 and that the law that such should be so, is universal as regards all the 
 races of mankind. 
 
 As far as I know, the first attempt to investigate this melody of speech 
 in regard to our language, and to reduce it to a system of notation, was 
 made just a century ago by Joshua Steele, who gave the result of his 
 labours in a large 4to volume entitled "Prosodia Rationahs ; or. An 
 Essay towards establishing the Melody and Measure of Speech to be 
 expressed and perpetuated by Peculiar Symbols." 
 
 He states in the opening chapter of the work, that he had long enter- 
 tained opinions concerning the melody and rhythm of modern languages, 
 and particularly of English, and was very desirous, if possible, to con-, 
 trive a method of notation by which might be marked the varying sounds 
 in common speech, which, it was quite clear to him, ran through a large 
 extent between acute and grave. He appears, too, to have been the first 
 person, in this country, at all events, who gave a true and scientific defi- 
 nition of the essential distinction between the music of song and the 
 music of speech — a distinction that has been accepted and adopted ever 
 since by every author who has written on Elocution — for he says the 
 former consists of a series of sounds moving distinctly from grave to acute 
 or vice versa, either gradually or saltim by intervals, of which the semitone 
 commonly so cajled, may be the common measure or division without 
 a fraction ; and always dwelling for a perceptible space of time on one 
 certain note, wTiereas the melody of speech moves rapidly up or down 
 by slides, wherein no graduated distinction of tones or semitones can be
 
 Lect. VIII.] ON ELOCUTION. in 
 
 measured by the ear. "Every one admits," he says, "that singing is 
 performed by the ascent and descent of the voice through a variety of 
 notes, as palpably and formally different from each other as the steps of 
 a ladder." It seems, therefore, at first sight somewhat extraordinary 
 that men of science should not have perceived the slides of the voice 
 upwards and downwards in common speech. But the knowledge of 
 the various distinct notes of ordinary music is not only laid open to 
 those multitudes who learn that art, but also, being rendered visible and 
 palpable to the unlearned by the keys of organs and such-like instruments, 
 it happens that almost every one knows the variety of music to arise in 
 part from the difference of acute and grave tones. In travelling through 
 a country apparently level, how few people perceive the ascents and 
 descents that would astonish them if the man of science were to demon- 
 strate them by his instrument ! In like manner, when the flow of the 
 melody of speech shall be ripened into method by art, even the vulgar 
 may be taught to know what the learned seem now scarce to comprehend. 
 Joshua Steele then adopted this system of notation for the music of 
 speech. In order to mark the quantity of syllables or words, that is the 
 duration of time during which the voice rests or dwells on the vowel in 
 proportion as the same is long or short according to the law of the lan- 
 guage, he took the ordinary notes in music, viz., semibreve, minim, 
 crotchet, and quaver. The same he did in regard to pauses or rests. 
 For the increase and diminution in the volume of the voice, he also 
 adopted the ordinary marks of the crescendo and diminuendo and the 
 same with all the other marks, forte, piano, &c., used in the music of song, 
 so far as they could be made applicable to the music of speech. Then, to 
 indicate how the voice ascended in the musical scale, he adopted this sign 
 
 /, as when a man in supplication exclaims Oh ! 
 
 and to show how the voice in a similar manner ^^^I 
 
 descended in the scale he took the stroke \, as 
 
 when a person sternly says No ! qi^ t 
 
 No! 
 
 and these marks have been generally used ever 
 since, and have received the names of the marks 
 of the rising and faUing inflections. To indicate 
 
 those peculiar turns of the voice accompanied by an increase and then 
 diminution in the volume of sound, more or less marked, and to which 
 the names of circumflex inflections have been given, Steele adopted 
 the following signs : — for the falling circumflex inflection, this ^ and for 
 the rising, this^_^. These last-named inflections and their particular uses 
 I hope I shall be able to explain clearly to you after we have sufficiently 
 examined the two groups of the simple rising and falling inflections. 
 
 You may now be interested in seeing Joshua Steele's method of 
 notation of the music of speech applied in its entirety to a line of 
 poetry, as an illustration, and here you have it before you as given by him. 
 (Fig. 15.) 
 
 But our author did not end his labours here. Having investigated 
 all that seemed to lie within his power in regard to melody of speech,
 
 112 
 
 KIXG 'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. VIII. 
 
 Oh, 
 
 'happiness! our 
 
 teing'g 
 
 end and 
 
 aim! 
 
 .\^M 
 
 VVWVvVvvw , 
 
 fVW^^v 
 
 wvv\v^ 
 
 aWVV\ 
 
 
 Fig. 15- 
 
 
 
 
 his next attempt was to discover, if possible, the laws which govern its 
 rhythm ; and in this attempt I beheve he fully succeeded ; for his system 
 is, I am convinced, founded on truth, and based on physiological laws. 
 I shall reserve all explanation of it until I come to my Lecture on 
 Poise, only remarking for the present that it was a system always main- 
 tained and warmly advocated by the late Mr. Thelwall within these 
 walls, as it always had been by his father previously. 
 
 Joshua Steele states that when his system of noting the melody and 
 rhythm was explained by him fully to David Garrick, the great tragedian, 
 among many judicious remarks which he made, and questions that he 
 put, asked the following : — " Supposing a speech by him were noted 
 according to these rules in the exact manner in which he spoke it, 
 would any other person by the help of these rules be able to pronounce 
 his words in the same tones and manner, exactly as the speech had 
 been originally delivered ? " To which Steele answered," Supposing a 
 first-rate musician had written down a piece of music, which he had 
 played exquisitely well on an exceedingly fine-toned violin ; another 
 performer on an ordinary fiddle might undoubtedly play every note the 
 same as the great master, though, perhaps, with less ease and elegance 
 of expression ; but still, notwithstanding his correctness in the tune and 
 manner, nothing could prevent the audience from perceiving that the 
 natural tone of his instrument was execrable. So, though these rules 
 will enable a master to teach a just application of the rules when the 
 voice should rise in the musical scale, and when it should fall, though 
 it will make the pupil acquainted with the laws of poise, emphasis, and 
 all the other proper expressions of the voice in reading and speaking, 
 Avhich will go a great way in the improvetfient of Elocution, yet they 
 cannot give a full, sweet, and flexible voice, where it has been denied 
 by nature." 
 
 A very wise and judicious answer of Mr. Steele, which puts elocution 
 in its true hght, and gives it neither more nor less than its just claim 
 and assigns it what is its undoubted due. Under a proper system of 
 instruction, and with careful regular practice on the part of the pupil, 
 even voices weak in power and poor in qualify may be much 
 strengthened and improved, and an indifferent reader or speaker 
 rendered much better ; but still, where the vocal and speech organs are 
 naturally ill-formed or defective, or if taste, imagination, and feeling be
 
 Lect. VIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 113 
 
 wanting, not the most skilful master in the world will be able to make 
 such a pupil an absolutely good reader or speaker. 
 
 That the Greeks and Romans in the old classic times knew perfectly 
 well what we now call the inflections and modulations of the voice and 
 the uses served by them in oratory, though they have left no analysis or 
 system of principles in regard to their application for our instruction, is 
 perfectly evident from what Quintilian says ; for in Book XI. c. 3, occurs 
 the following passage : — "The second observation on the true manage- 
 ment of the voice relates to variety^ which alone constitutes an eloquent 
 delivery. And let it not be imagined that the equability of the voice 
 already recommended is inconsistent with variety ; for unevenness is the 
 fault opposite to equability, and the opposite to variety is that monotony 
 which consists in one unvaried form or tone of expression. The art of 
 varying the tones of the voice, not only affords pleasure and relief to the 
 hearer; but by the alternation of exercise relieves the speaker, as 
 changes of posture and motions, of standing, walking, sitting, and lying 
 are grateful, and we cannot for a long time submit to any one of them. 
 The voice is to be adapted to the subject and the feelings of the mind, 
 so as not to be at variance with the expressions ; this is the great art. 
 We should, therefore, guard against that uniformity of character called 
 by the Greeks monotony {fiomih-hi). , . Even in the same passages, and 
 in the expression of the same feelings, there must be in the voice certain 
 nice changes, according as the dignity of the language, the nature of the 
 sentiments, the beginning, the conclusion, or the transitions require. 
 For painters, who confine themselves only to one colour, nevertheless 
 bring out some parts more strongly and touch others more faintly ; and 
 this they are obliged to do, in order to preserve the just forms and lines 
 of their figures." 
 
 The first writer who took up Joshua Steele's theory in regard to 
 these inflections of the voice and expanded them into a very full and 
 elaborate treatise, was John Walker, the author of the well-known pro- 
 nouncing dictionary. It may be read with some interest by the curious 
 in such matters, but it is so exceedingly elaborate in the niceties to 
 which it carries the rules for inflection of the voice in regard to almost 
 every conceivable form of sentence, that I could not recommend it to 
 any one just entering on the study of elocution, as a work likely to be of 
 much practical utility. It has, however, some useful remarks in regard 
 to the theory of inflection, and the uses it serves in speaking and reading, 
 which I think I may endeavour to epitomise with some advantage. 
 
 Mr. Walker introduces the subject by showing how necessary proper 
 pauses are in order to convey the sense of any sentence which we 
 speak or read, and then goes on to assert that besides these pauses, 
 which indicate a greater or less separation of the parts of a sentence, 
 and a conclusion of the whole, there are certain slides of the voice, or 
 inflections (as they are termed), which accompany those pauses, which, 
 indeed, are as necessary to the full sense of the sentence as the pauses 
 themselves ; for, however exactly we may pause between those parts 
 which are separable, if we do not pause with such an inflection of 
 voice as is suited to the sense, the composition we read will not only 
 
 H
 
 114 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 want its true meaning, but will have a meaning, indeed, very different 
 from that intended by the writer. How desirable, therefore, must 
 any effort be that can notify to us that particular inflection of voice 
 which is best suited to convey to the hearer the full sense of the passage 
 read or spoken ! But it is not unlikely that this at first sight may be 
 pronounced by some to be impossible. What ! (it will be said) will 
 any one pretend to convey to us upon paper, all that force, beauty, 
 variety, and harmony, which a good reader throws into composition 
 when he enters into the full spirit of his author, and displays every part 
 of it to the best advantage? No (it may be answered), this is not 
 attempted ; but because all this cannot be done, is it impossible to 
 do any part of it ? Because the exact time of pausing is not always 
 denoted by the points in use, is it valueless to have any marks of pausing 
 at all? Because the precise degree of emphatic force is not conveyed 
 by printing some words in a different character, cannot we sometimes 
 assist the reader in apprehending the comparative force or feebleness 
 of pronunciation by printing the emphatic words in letters of a different 
 type ? The practice of this in books of instruction sufficiently shows 
 it is not entirely useless; and, if executed with more judgment, there 
 is little doubt of its being rendered still more useful. 
 
 The truth is, something relative to the pronunciation can be con- 
 veyed by written words, and something cannot The pauses between 
 sentences and members of sentences may be conveyed ; the emphasis 
 on any particular word in a sentence may be conveyed; and it is 
 presumed it can be also demonstrated that certain inflections of the 
 voice which show the import of the pauses, form the harmony of a 
 cadence, distinguish emphasis into different kinds, and give each kind 
 its specific and determinate meaning, may be as clearly conveyed upon 
 paper as any of the foregoing elements in pronunciation. 
 
 Though they were contemporaries, it is rather curious that neither 
 in the elaborate works of Steele nor Walker do we find any allusion 
 made by one to the other; and of the theory of the poise, the dis- 
 tinctive feature in Steele's "Prosodia Rationalis," and on which he 
 based his whole system of measure in speech. Walker appears to be 
 entirely ignorant. But Steele's theory and definition of the inflections 
 he accepts fully ; for he admits that all vocal sounds are capable of 
 being divided into two kinds, viz. : musical sounds and speaking sounds ; 
 and his definition is just the same as Steele's, for he says that musical 
 sounds are such as continue a given time on the precise point of the 
 musical scale, and leap, as it were, from one note to another ; while 
 speaking sounds, instead of dwelling on the note they begin with, slide 
 either upwards or downwards to the neighbouring notes without, save 
 on very rare occasions, any perceptible rest on any ; so that speaking 
 and musical sounds are essentially distinct ; the former being generally 
 in motion from the moment they commence ; the latter usually being 
 at rest for some given time on one precise note. The difficulty of 
 arresting speaking sounds for examination, he says, has made all authors 
 suppose it impossible to give any such distinct account of them, as to 
 be of use in speaking and reading : and, indeed, the wonderful variety
 
 Lect. VIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 115 
 
 of tones which a good reader or speaker throws into delivery, and of 
 which it is impossible to convey any idea but by imitation, has led us 
 easily to suppose that nothing at all of this variety can be defined and 
 reduced to rules. But when we consider that whether words are 
 pronounced in a high or low key ; in a loud or soft tone ; whether they 
 are pronounced swiftly or slowly, forcibly or feebly ; they must neces- 
 sarily be pronounced either sliding upwards or sliding downwards, or 
 else go into a monotone ; when we consider all this, we shall find that 
 the primary division of all speaking sounds is into the upward and 
 downward slides of the voice ; and that whatever other diversity of 
 time, tone, force, &c., may be added to speaking or reading, it must 
 necessarily be chiefly conveyed by these two sHdes. Consequently, 
 these two slides, or inflections of the voice, are the axis, as it were, on 
 which the variety, power, melody, and general effect of all speaking and 
 reading must turn. They may be considered as the great outlines of 
 pronunciation; and if these outlines can be tolerably conveyed to a 
 reader, they must be of nearly the same use to him that the rough 
 draught of a picture is to a pupil in the art of painting. 
 
 I trust, therefore, now that you clearly understand what an inflection 
 of the voice is ; that it is not the key or pitch of the voice in which 
 the whole word is pronounced, neither is it that loudness or softness 
 which may accompany any key ; but that the ordinary simple rising or 
 falling inflection is just that upward or downward slide which the voice 
 makes in pronouncing a word or clause of a sentence ; and which is 
 specially perceptible even to the unpractised ear, when the vowel in the 
 word on which the inflection chiefly takes place happens to be long in 
 point of quantity — as when I ask this question, " Does Caesar deserve 
 fame or blkme ? " I am sure if you listen to me, or if you pronounced 
 the question yourselves, you cannot but perceive that, from the beginning 
 of the word " fame " till its close, the voice is sliding upward in the 
 musical scale; whilst, on the contrary, in pronouncing the word "blkme " 
 the voice, from the commencement to the end of the word, was sliding 
 as evidently downward in the scale. 
 
 Our great orator and statesman, and present Prime Minister, the 
 Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, in a communication with which he kindly 
 favoured me on this subject and gives me permission to quote, says at 
 the close — 
 
 " Accent is not to be confounded with emphasis. It may be best 
 defined as musical pitch, which is a matter entirely distinct from em- 
 phasis, as it is from time. We really in our speeches, as indeed in 
 ordinary conversation, run up and down the musical scale without giving 
 any heed to it ; not, it is true, with the separate and full notes of song, 
 but with partially formed notes that melt or slide, as it were, into one 
 another, either ascending or descending in the musical scale. 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 ">«^ii^/m877. "W. E. GLADSTONE. 
 
 C.J. Plumptre, Esq." 
 
 In my next Lecture I hope to be able to give you some plain general
 
 ii6 KTNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIII. 
 
 rules for the right use of these inflections ; and, in drawing my remarks 
 to a close this evening, I would only impress upon you that so im- 
 portant is the right use of these two inflections, that the moment they 
 are neglected our reading and speaking become expressionless and 
 monotonous; and if they are misemployed, the cultivated taste is not 
 only offended, but the sense and meaning of the sentences we pronounce 
 often totally destroyed. If the meaning of a passage should require 
 the voice to use the rising inflection on any particular word, either in 
 the middle or at the end of a phrase, variety and melody demand the 
 falling inflection on one of the preceding words; and, on the contrary, 
 if completion of sense, melody, emphasis, or any other principle, should 
 require that the falling inflection should be used on any particular word, 
 it will be found that the word immediately preceding almost always 
 demands the rising inflection ; so that, as a general rule, it may be said that 
 these two inflections of the voice are, in point of order, nearly alternate. 
 You will notice that this is very observable when we read a sentence 
 and discover that we have made a mistake in the connection between 
 the clauses, either by supposing the sense is to be continued when it 
 really is completed, or by supposing it completed when it really is to be 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Jf thou dost stan — der her and tor — tur-e me. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ ^ ^^ Atf^ ^ m^ ^^ 9^ AM' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Ne — ver pray more: a — han—don all re — morse; 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^ ti^ tr ^ */■ ^ ^ •('•^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 On hor— rorv 'head hor — ror's ac — eu — nm — late; 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Ho deeds io make He a — ven weep, all earth a — mazed; 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Far no — iking canst ihou to dam — na — Hon add. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 •^ ^ m^ m/ 1 
 
 1 
 
 Great — er than that. 
 
 continued ; for in either of these cases we find it necessary to return 
 pretty far back to some of the preceding words in order to give them
 
 Lect. VII I.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 117 
 
 such inflections as are suitable to those which the sense requires on the 
 succeeding words. 
 
 We are indebted to America for what is, as far as I know, the most 
 elaborate work that has yet appeared on the inflections of the voice, viz., 
 the large 8vo volume, entitled " The Philosophy of the Human Voice," 
 by Dr. James Rush of Philadelphia, and which has now gone through, 
 I believe, eight or nine editions. It is well worthy perusal by those who 
 wish to study the subject in all its minuteness of detail. 
 
 Dr. Rush invented a peculiar form of notation of his own for the 
 purpose of typifying the mode in which the vowel sounds in the 
 music of speech seem, as it were, to gradually end in what he terms a 
 "vanishing point," of which the foregoing is an illustration. 
 
 Another work which may be studied with the greatest advantage, and 
 which we owe to France, is the " Traite Theorique et Pratique de la 
 Declamation pour la Chaise, pour le Barreau, et a I'usage ce ceux qui 
 lisent en pubUc," by the Abbe Thibout, a new edition of which, by M. 
 De Pradel, has lately been published. 
 
 The Abbe Thibout for his system of notation in elocution adopts the 
 ordinary notes of music, though he points out how in practice the music 
 of speech must necessarily differ from the music of song. I show you 
 here an illustration of the Abbe's system of notation. 
 
 EXEMPLE D'ExCLAMATION INTERROGATIVE. 
 
 lA-: 
 
 l^ii 
 
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 In concluding this Lecture on the Theory of the Inflections of the 
 Voice, I may remark, as a preface to my next Lecture on the principles 
 that govern their practical application in reading and speaking, that three 
 degrees are commonly assigned to each of the classes of inflection ; and
 
 ii8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. VIIL 
 
 no doubt such a classification is very useful for practice, but while the 
 principle of the application of each class of inflection is easily and clearly 
 defined and well understood, yet the degrees of each class must be left 
 much to the individual taste and judgment of each reader and speaker, 
 and many more than three degrees of each inflection are certainly to be 
 heard in a well-trained and cultivated voice. 
 
 As a rule, you will always remark that the more powerful the emotion 
 or passion under which a man speaks, the wider is the range which the 
 voice takes in the rising or faUing inflection, according as the particular 
 emotion or passion is one that nature always makes us convey either by 
 one or the other, as, for instance, supplication by a rising, and stern 
 denial by a falling inflection. 
 
 A few excellent remarks on "time" in deUvery may not inappropri- 
 ately be introduced here. They are those of the late Mr. George Henry 
 Lewes, and will be found in a very interesting work published five years 
 ago (Smith, Elder, & Co., 1875), entitled, "On Actors and Acting." 
 He says (p. 194) : "The great difficulty in Elocution is to be slow, and 
 not to seem slow. To speak the phrases with such distinctness, and 
 such management of the breath, that each shall tell, yet due proportion 
 be maintained. Hurry destroys the effect ; and actors hurry because 
 they dread, and justly dread, the heaviness of a slow utterance. The 
 art is so to manage the time that it shall not appear slow to the hearer ; 
 and this is an art very rarely understood by actors. No sooner have 
 they to express excitement or emotion of any kind, than they seem to 
 lose all mastery over the rhythm and cadence of their speech. Let them 
 study great speakers, and they will find that, in passages which seem 
 rapid, there is a measured rhythm, and that, even in the whirlwind of 
 passion, there is as strict regard to ' tempo ' as in passionate music. 
 Resistant flexibility is the perfection of elocution." 
 
 Sanson, the excellent Professor of Elocution, tells us how — 
 
 " D'un mot plaisant, terrible, ou tendre ; 
 On double la valeur en le faisant attendre," 
 
 a point well understood by the elder Kean, who, however, allowed his 
 pauses to degenerate into tricks. 
 Sanson adds — 
 
 " Tantot I'agile voix se pr^cipite et vole, 
 
 Tantot il faut savoir ralentir sa parole. 
 
 Ignorant de son art, les plus vulgaires lois 
 
 Plus d'un acteur se laisse entrainer par sa voix ; 
 
 Sa rapide parole etourdit I'auditoire ; 
 • II semble concourir pour un prix de m^moire." 
 
 Again, at p. 209 of the same work, Mr. G. H. Lewes, speaking of the 
 Drama in Germany, says: " Be the reasons what they may, the result 
 is that, always in a German Hof Theater, one is sure of the very best 
 ensemble that the company can present ; and one will often receive as 
 much pleasure from the performance of quite insignificant parts as from
 
 Lect. VIII.] UN ELOCUTION. 1I9 
 
 the leading parts on other stages. The actors are thoroughly trained ; 
 they know Xhe pri7idples of their art — a very different thing from know- 
 ing ' the business.' They pay laudable attention to one supremely 
 important point, recklessly disregarded on our stage — namely, Elocu- 
 tion. They know how to speak — -both prose and verse ; to speak with- 
 out mouthing, yet with effective cadence ; speech elevated above the 
 tone of conversation, yet without being stilted. How many actors are 
 there on our stage who have learned this ? How many are there who 
 suspect the mysterious charm which lies in rhythm and have mas- 
 tered its music ? How many are there who, with an art which is not 
 apparent, except to the very critical ear, can manage the cadences and 
 emphases of prose, so as to be at once perfectly easy, natural, yet 
 incisive and effective ? "
 
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 LECTURE IX. 
 
 The Rising Inflection of the Voice— Principles that govern its application in regard 
 to the Logical expression of Clauses and Sentences : (i) Where the meaning is as 
 yet Incomplete ; (2) Where Clauses or Sentences are Negative in Construction ; 
 (3) To connect Kindred Thoughts together ; (4) Where Clauses or Sentences are 
 Contingent ; (5) Interrogative Sentences that can be answered by a simpU Affirma- 
 tive or Negative — Principles that govern the Rising Inflection in regard to Emotional 
 Expression: (l) Where Sentences convey Appeal of any kind ; (2) Where Sentences 
 are in the nature of Supplication or Prayer ; (3) Where Sentences expre<s Love, 
 Joy, Hope, &c. ; (4) Where Sentences express Wonder, Amazement, or Strprise ; 
 (5) Where Sentences are of an Exclamatory Character. 
 
 ilN this and the following Lectures, I hope to make you 
 acquainted with the principal rules for the employnient 
 of the different classes of the inflections of the voice. It 
 seems to me that each class has a twofold use, first as 
 regards the expression of the logical meaning of a sentence 
 and next as regards the expression of the onotiofis. The same remark, 
 too. may be made in regard to the modulation of the voice. Let us, 
 then, take in succession the rising, the falling, and the circumflex inflec- 
 tions, and see what are the broad and general principles which govern 
 each.* 
 
 And, first, as regards the logical uses of the rising inflections, I should 
 give this direction, as : 
 
 Rule I. — So long as the meaning of a clause or sentence is incom- 
 plete or kept suspended, the rising inflection is to be used. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 Whate'er of life d,ll qiiickening ether keeps. 
 
 Or breathes through air, or shoots beneath the deeps, 
 
 Or potirs profuse on edrth ; oiie nature feeds 
 
 The vital flame, and swells the gt^nial seeds. 
 
 * The first illustration of each rule is alone marked with the signs of the inflection 
 of the voice, as it is most desirable that the student should read from a knowledge of 
 the principles on which the rule is based, and not merely mechanically, because certain 
 marks are placed on certain words.
 
 Lect. IX.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 2. Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 
 Or, failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 
 Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 
 Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. 
 
 3. 'Twas said, by ancient sages. 
 
 That love of life increas'd with years 
 So much, that, in our later stages, 
 When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages. 
 The greatest love of life appears, 
 
 4. Of all the causes which conspire to blind 
 Man's erring judgment and misguide the mind, 
 What the weak head with strongest bias rules, 
 Is Pride. 
 
 5. Who builds his hope in th' air of men's fair looks, 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, 
 
 Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
 
 6. .\ soul immortal spending all her fires. 
 Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 
 Thrown into tumult, raptur'd or alarm'd 
 
 At aught this scene can threaten or indulge. 
 Resembles ocean into tempest Avrought 
 To waft a feather or to drown a fly. 
 
 7. Lo ! when the faithful pencil has design'd 
 Some bright idea of the master's mind, 
 Where a new world leaps out at his command, 
 And ready nature waits upon his hand ; 
 When the ripe colours soften and unite, 
 
 And sweetly melt into just shade and light ; 
 When mellowing years their full perfection give 
 And each bold figure just begins to live : 
 The treacherous colours the fair art betray, 
 And all the bright creation fades away. 
 
 8. Of systems possible, if 'tis confess'd 
 That wisdom infinite must form the best. 
 Where all must fall, or not coherent be, 
 And all that rises, rise in due degree ; 
 Then in the scale of life and sense, 'tis plain 
 There must be, somewhere, such a rank as man. 
 
 9. When round the lonely cottage 
 Roars loud the tempest's din. 
 And the good logs of Algidus 
 Roar louder yet within ;
 
 122 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 When the oldest cask is opened, 
 And the largest lamp is lit ; 
 When the chestnuts glow in the embers. 
 And the kid turns on the spit ; 
 When young and old in circle 
 Around the firebrands close ; 
 When the girls are weaving baskets, 
 And the lads are shaping bows ; 
 When the goodman mends his armour, 
 And trims his helmet's plume ; 
 When the good wife's shuttle merrily 
 Goes flashing through the room ; 
 With weeping and with laughter, 
 Still is the story told, 
 How well Horatius kept the bridge 
 In the brave days of old. 
 
 lo. The horrid crags by toppling convent crown'd, 
 The cork-tree's hoar that clothe the shaggy steep, 
 The mountain moss by scorching skies embrown'd, 
 The sunken glen whose sunless shrubs must weep, 
 The tender azure of the unruffled deep. 
 The orange tints that gild the greenest bough, 
 The torrents that from cliff to valley leap, 
 The vine on high, the willow-branch below, 
 Mixed in one mighty scene with varied beauty glow. 
 
 11. Though he who excels in the graces of writing might have been, 
 with opportunities and application, equally successful in those of conver- 
 sation ; yet, as many please by extemporary talk, though -utterly unac- 
 quainted with the more accurate method, and more laboured beauties, 
 which composition requires, so is it very possible that men wholly accus- 
 tomed to works of study, may be without that readiness of conception, 
 and affluence of language, always necessary to colloquial entertainment. 
 
 12. Man's study of himself, and the knowledge of his own station in 
 the ranks of being, and his various relations to the innumerable multi- 
 tudes which surround him, and with which his Maker has ordained him 
 to be united for the reception and communication of happiness, should 
 begin with the first glimpse of reason, and only end with life itself. 
 
 Rule II. — All clauses or sentences that are negative in structure 
 take the rising inflection. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 I. Let not my cold words here accuse my z^al, 
 'Tis not the trial of a woman's wdr, 
 The bitter clamour of tw6 (?ager tongues, 
 Can arbitrate this c^use betwixt us twain :
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 123 
 
 And can I not of such tdme patience boast, 
 As to be husht and naught at all to say. 
 
 2. Not all the water in the rough, rude sea 
 Can wash the balm from an anointed king : 
 The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected by the Lord. 
 
 3. 'Tis not enough — No ! 
 
 Vengeance cannot take away the grace of life : 
 The comeliness of look that virtue gives. 
 Its port erect with consciousness of truth, 
 Its rich attire of honourable deeds, 
 Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues 
 It cannot lay its hands on these, no more 
 Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun, 
 Or with polluted finger tarnish it. 
 
 4. I doubt not that. ' 
 
 We carry not a heart with us from hence, 
 That grows not in a fair consent with ours 
 Nor leave one behind, that doth not wish 
 Success and conquest to attend on us. 
 
 5. Never was monarch better feared and loved 
 Than is your majesty : there's not a subject 
 That sits in heart-grief or uneasiness 
 Under the sweet shade of your government. 
 
 6. 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
 The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. 
 The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 
 The farced title running 'fore the king, 
 The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp, 
 That beats upon the high shore of the world ; 
 No, not all these thrice gorgeous ceremonies. 
 Not all these laid in bed majestical 
 
 Can sleep so soundly as that wretched slave 
 
 Who, With a body filled, and vacant mind, 
 
 Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread. 
 
 1. I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. 
 Who else must be let blood, who else is rank : 
 If I myself, there is no hour so fit 
 As Csesar's death-hour ; nor no instrument 
 Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich 
 With the most noble blood of all this world. 
 
 Live a thousand years, 
 I shall not find myself so apt to die : 
 No place will please me so, no means of death 
 As here by Caesar, and by you cut off.
 
 124 AVNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX 
 
 8. " No, no," said Enid, vext, " I will not eat, 
 Till yonder man upon the bier arise 
 
 And eat with me. ... I will not drink 
 Till my dear lord arise and bid me do it. 
 And drink with me ; and if he rise no more 
 I will not look at wine until I die. ' 
 
 9. I did not mean to gall your pride. 
 
 No leader of our host in sounds more lofty 
 Talks of glorious war. Speak not thus. 
 Let not our variance mar the social hour. 
 Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph. 
 Nor frowning anger, not yet wrinkled hate, 
 Shall stain my countenance. 
 
 10 Not high-raised battlement, 
 Nor laboured mound, 
 Thick wall, nor moated gate ; 
 Not cities proud, nor spires, 
 Nor turrets crowned, 
 Nor bays, nor broad arm'd ports \ 
 Not stars, nor spangled courts, — 
 These do not form a State. 
 
 11. Great and acknowledged force is not impaired, either in effect or 
 in opinion, by an unwillingness to exert itself . . . Do not entertain 
 so weak an imagination as that your registers and your bonds, your 
 affidavits and your sufferances, your dockets and your clearances, form 
 the great securities of your commerce. Do not dream that your letters 
 of office, and your instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the 
 things that hold together the great contexture of this mysterious whole. 
 These things do not make your government. 
 
 12. The peace we seek is not peace through the medium of war; 
 not peace to be hunted through the labyrinth of intricate and endless 
 negotiations ; not peace to arise out of universal discord, fomented from 
 principle in all parts of the empire ; not peace to depend on the juridical 
 determination of perplexing questions, nor the precise marking of the 
 shadowy boundaries of a complex government. 
 
 Rule III. — It not unfrequently happens that a clause or sentence 
 containing a complete logical proposition, which, if it stood alone, 
 would properly end with the falling inflection, is yet followed by another 
 clause or sentence carrying on a similar or approximating train of thought 
 Ending the first clause or sentence with a rising inflection, will have the 
 requisite conjunctive effect of linking the two thoughts together.
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION, 125 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
 Creep, in this pe'tty pace, from day to day, 
 To the last syllable of recorded ti'me ; 
 And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
 The way to dusky death. 
 
 2. Oh ! who can hold a fire in his hand, 
 By thinking on the frosty Caucasus : 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite. 
 By bare imagination of a feast ; 
 
 Or wallow naked in December's snow, 
 By thinking on fantastic summer's heal ? 
 
 3. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds ; _ 
 
 Save where the beetle wheels its drony flight. 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 
 Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
 The moping owl does to the moon complain 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower. 
 Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 
 
 4. Admit me, Mirth, to live with thee 
 In unreproved pleasures free; 
 To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And, singing, startle the dull night 
 From his watchtower in the skies 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
 Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 
 And at my window, bid good morrow, 
 Through the sweetbrier or the vine, 
 Or the twistled eglantine : 
 While the cock, with lively din, 
 Scatters the rear of darkness thin, 
 And to the stack, or the barn-door. 
 Stoutly struts his dames before ; 
 Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn 
 From the side of some hoar hill 
 Through the high wood echoing shrill. 
 
 5. The poet's eye, in a fine phrenzy rolling, 
 
 Doth glance 'from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven 
 
 And as imagination bodies forth 
 
 The form of things unknown, the poet's pen 
 
 Turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing 
 
 A local habitation and a name.
 
 126 A'AVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 6. The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; 
 And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a rack behind. 
 
 7. Beauty is but a vain, a fleeting good, 
 A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly ; 
 
 A flower that dies when almost in the bud, 
 A brittle glass that breaketh presently ; 
 A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower. 
 Lost, faded, broken, dead, within an hour. 
 
 8. Proclaim it, Westmoreland, throughout my host. 
 That he who hath no stomach for this fight. 
 May straight depart ; his passport shall be made. 
 And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
 
 We would not die in that man's company. 
 This day is called the feast of Crispian : 
 He that outlives this day, and comes safe home. 
 Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named. 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
 He that outlives this day and sees old age, 
 Will yearly, on the vigil, feast his neighbours, 
 And say. To-morrow is Saint Crispian : 
 Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars. 
 Old men forget \ yet shall not all forget. 
 But they'll remember, with advantages. 
 What feats they did that day. 
 
 9. Then shall our names. 
 
 Familiar in their mouths as household words, — 
 Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered : 
 This story shall the good man tell his sons ; 
 And Crispian's day shall ne'er go by. 
 From this time to the ending of the world, 
 But we in it shall be remembered. 
 
 10. The temperate man's pleasures are durable, because they are 
 regular ; and all his life is calm and serene, because it is innocent, 
 
 11. He that is truly polite, knows how to contradict with respect, and 
 to please without adulation ; and is equally remote from an insipid com- 
 plaisance and a low familiarity. 
 
 12. No object is more pleasing to the eye than the sight of a man 
 whom you have obliged ; nor any music so agreeable to the ear as the 
 voice of one that owns you for his benefactor.
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 127 
 
 13. There is scarcely a thinking man in the world who is involved in 
 the business of it, but lives under a secret impatience of the hurry and 
 fatigue he suffers, and has formed a resolution to fix himself, one time 
 or other, in such a state as is suitable to the end of his being. 
 
 Rule IV. — Clauses or sentences that express doubts or contingency 
 take the rising inflection. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. If that the face of men, 
 
 The sufferance of our soiils, the time's abuse, 
 
 If these be motives weak, break off betimes. 
 
 But if the'se 
 
 (As I am siire they do) b^ar fire enough 
 
 To kindle cowards and to steel with valour 
 
 The melting spirits of women, the'n, countrymen. 
 
 What need we any spiir but our 6wn cause ? 
 
 2. It is doubtful yet, 
 
 I f Caesar will come forth to-day or no. 
 It may be these apparent prodigies, 
 The unaccustomed terror of this night. 
 And the persuasion of his augurers, 
 May hold him from the capitol to-day. 
 
 3. If that thy valour stand on sympathies. 
 There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine. 
 If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, 
 
 I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness. 
 
 4. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
 
 I would not draw them : I would have my bond. 
 
 5. If thou tak'st more 
 
 Or less than a just pound, be't but so much 
 
 As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 
 Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale turn 
 
 But in the estimation of a hair, 
 
 Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 6. If it be proved against an alien, 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 
 He seek the Hfe of any citizen, 
 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
 Shall seize on half his goods.
 
 128 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 7. If I am traduced by tongues which neither know 
 
 My faculties nor person, yet will be ■ 
 
 The chroniclers of my doing, let me say, ■ 
 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 
 
 That virtue must go through. j 
 
 8. If in the course ^ 
 And process of this time, you can report, 
 
 And prove it too, against mine honour aught, 
 My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty 
 Against your sacred person : in God's name 
 Turn me away. — 
 
 9. If thou hast any sound or use of voice, 
 Speak to me : 
 
 If there be any good thing to be done, 
 
 That may to thee do ease, and grace to me. 
 
 Speak to me : 
 
 If thou art privy to thy country's fate, ^ 
 
 Which, happily, fore-knowing may avoid — 
 
 Oh, speak ! 
 
 Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life, 
 
 Extorted treasure in the womb of earth. 
 
 For which, they say, your spirits oft walk in death, 
 
 Speak of it : stay and speak. 
 
 10. If they shall chance, 
 
 In charging you with matters, to commit you, 
 The best persuasions to the contrary, 
 Fail not to use, and with what vehemency 
 The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties 
 Will render you no remedy, this ring 
 Deliver them, and your appeal to us 
 There make liefore them. 
 
 11. Such a man as this that I have described, may reach the bench. 
 He may be a man without passions, and therefore without vices : he 
 may be, my lord, a man superfluously rich, and therefore not to be 
 bribed with money ; such a man, inflated by flattery and bloated in his 
 dignity, may hereafter use that character for sanctity which has served 
 to promote him as a sword to hew down the struggling liberties of his 
 country \ such a judge may interfere before trial, and may at the trial 
 be a partisan. 
 
 12. If a cool, determined courage, that no apparently hopeless struggle 
 could lessen or subdue — if a dauntless resolution, that shone the 
 brightest in the midst of the greatest difficulties and dangers — if a heart 
 ever open to the tenderest affections of our nature and the purest plea- 
 sures of social intercourse — if an almost childlike simplicity of character, 
 that, while incapable of craft or dissimulation in itself, yet seemed to
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 129 
 
 have an intuitive power of seeing and defeating the insidious designs and 
 treacheries of others — if characteristics such as these constitute theii 
 ])OSsessor a hero, then, I say, foremost in the rank of heroes shines the. 
 deathless name of Washington ! 
 
 Rule V. — Sentences that are interrogative in character, and to which 
 a simple afifirmative or negative can be returned as an answer, end with 
 the rising inflection. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Old' John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, 
 Hast thou according to thy oath and bond 
 Brought hither Henry He'reford, thy bold son. 
 Here to make good the bofst'rous late appeal 
 Which then our leisure would not let lis hdar 
 Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 
 
 2. Must I do so, and must I ravel out 
 
 My weav'd-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, 
 If thy offences were upon record 
 Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop 
 To read a lecture of them ? 
 
 3. No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck 
 So many blows upon this face of mine 
 
 And made no deeper wounds ? 
 
 Was this face the face 
 
 That every day under his household roof 
 
 Did keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face, 
 
 That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ? 
 
 Is this the face which faced so many follies, 
 
 And was at last outfaced by Bolingbroke ? 
 
 4. Think you a little din can daunt my ears ? 
 Have I not in my time heard lions roar ? 
 Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, 
 Rage like an angry bear? 
 
 Have I not heard great ordnance in the field ? 
 And Heaven's artillery thunder in the sky ? 
 Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
 Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang ? 
 And do you tell me of a woman's tongue .'* 
 
 5. Shall I cease here ? Is this enough to say 
 That my desire, like all strongest hopes, 
 By its own energy fulfiU'd itself. 
 
 Merged on completion ? Would you learn at full 
 How passion rose through circumstantial grades 
 Beyond all grades developed ?
 
 I30 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 6. Have I lived thus long (let me speak myself 
 Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one ; 
 A woman (I dare say without vain-glory) 
 Never yet branded with suspicion ? 
 
 Have I with all my full affections 
 
 Still met the King ? lov'd him next Heaven, obey'd him ? 
 
 Been out of fondness superstitious to him ? 
 
 Almost forgot my prayers to content him ? 
 
 And am I thus rewarded ? 
 
 7. Have I not made you 
 
 The prime man of the State ? I pray you tell me. 
 If what I now pronounce, you have found true, 
 And if you may confess it, say withal, 
 If you are bound to us? 
 
 8. My Lord of Suffolk, say is this the guise ? 
 Is this the fashion in the Court of England ? 
 Is this the Government of Britain's isle ? 
 And this the Royalty of Albion's King ? 
 What ! shall King Henry be a pupil still 
 Under the surly Glos'ter's governance ? 
 Am I a Queen in title and in style, 
 
 And must be made a subject to a Duke ? 
 
 9. When was the hour 
 I ever contradicted your desire. 
 
 Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your friends 
 Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
 He were mine enemy ? What friend of mine 
 That had to him derived your anger, did I 
 Continue in my liking ? 
 
 10 Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate 
 Call all in all sufficient ? — Is this the nature 
 Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue 
 The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, 
 Could neither graze, nor pierce ? 
 
 II. Has our Maker furnished us with desires which have no corre- 
 spondent objects, and raised expectations in our breasts with no other 
 view than to disappoint them? Are we to be for ever in search of 
 happiness without arriving at it, either in this world or in the next ? Are 
 we formed with a passionate longing for immortality, and yet destined 
 to perish after this short period of existence ? Are we prompted to the 
 noblest actions, and supported through life under the severest hardships 
 and most trying temptations, by hopes of a reward which is visionary 
 and chimerical ? by the expectation of praises which we are never to 
 realise and enjoy ?
 
 LECT. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 131 
 
 1 2. Can we believe that a thinking being, that is in a perpetual pro- 
 gress of improvement, and travelling on from perfection to perfection, 
 after having just looked abroad into the works of her Creator, and 
 made a few discoveries of His infinite goodness, wisdom, and power, 
 must perish at her first setting out, and in the very beginning of her 
 inquiries? Would He, who is infinitely wise, make such glorious 
 creatures for so mean a purpose ? Can He delight in the production 
 of such abortive intelligences, such short-lived reasonable beings? 
 Would He give us talents that are not to be exerted? capacities that 
 are never to be gratified ? 
 
 Under these foregoing rules, may, I venture to think, be classed the 
 ])rincipal uses served by the rising inflections of the voice as regards 
 the elucidation of the logical meaning of sentences. We now come to 
 their emotional uses ; but it is necessary, in considering this branch of 
 our subject, to premise that in emotional expression much depends on 
 the reader or speaker not only using right inflections, but also the 
 appropriate keys of the voice which nature always makes us employ 
 when we are really influenced by our different emotions and are giving 
 utterance to them in articulate language. Professor Tyndall, in one of 
 his celebrated Lectures, spoke lately of the advantages of cultivating 
 the imagination in regard to science. I am sure the advantages are 
 not less when the imagination is cultivated in regard to art, and 
 especially such an art as that of elocution. The poetic or sympathetic 
 temperament that can vividly conceive and realize the various passions, 
 feelings, and emotions expressed by an author, and in the "mind's eye" 
 behold all the scenes and circumstances in which the language of such 
 emotions either really was, or is supposed to have been, uttered, will 
 ever possess the strongest power of influencing the hearts of others ; 
 and nothing will enhance this power so much as the culture of the 
 imagination. 
 
 I shall have to speak more fully in a subsequent Lecture of the 
 principles which govern the different keys of the voice, or, in other 
 words, its modulation ; so I shall speak only briefly and incidentally of 
 this element of expression in giving you now what seem to me to be 
 the principal rules for the emotional uses of the rising inflections. 
 
 Rule. I. — When a sentence is in the nature of an appeal, it takes 
 a general rising inflection throughout its delivery, and the key of the 
 voice is usually more or less high in pitch ; but in sad and solemn 
 appeals the pitch of the inflection is always low. 
 
 lllusiratiojis for Practice. 
 
 I. Go to your bosom, 
 
 Knock there and ask your hedit what it doth know 
 
 That's like my brother's fault. If it confess 
 
 A natural guiltiness such as is his. 
 
 Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
 
 Against my brother's life.
 
 t32 AVNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 2. My dear, dear Lord, 
 
 The purest treasure mortal times afford 
 Is spotless Reputation. That away, 
 Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. 
 A jewel in a ten-times barr'd up chest, 
 Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
 Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ; 
 Take honour from me and my life is done. 
 Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try 
 In that I live and for that will I die. 
 
 3. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my Sovereign's hand 
 And bow my knee before his Majesty : 
 
 For Mowbray and myself are like two men, 
 That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; 
 Then let us take a ceremonious leave 
 And loving farewell of our several friends. 
 
 4. Think upon the time 
 
 When the clear depths of thy yet lucid soul 
 Were ruffled with the troublings of strange joy, 
 As if some unseen visitant from heaven 
 Touch'd the calm lake and wreath'd its images 
 In sparkling waves ; — recal the dallying hope 
 That on the margin of assurance trembled, 
 As loth to lose in certainty too bless'd 
 Its happy being ; — taste in thought again 
 Of the stolen sweetness of these evening-walks, 
 When pansied turf was air to wingM feet ; 
 When circling forests, by ethereal touch 
 Enchanted, wore the livery of the sky ; 
 When thy heart, 
 
 Enlarg'd by its new sympathy with one. 
 Grew bountiful to all ! 
 
 5. All good people. 
 
 You that thus far have come to pity me, 
 Hear what I say. You few that lov'd me, 
 And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, 
 His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave 
 Is only bitter to him, only dying; 
 Go with me, like good angels, to my end ; 
 And as the long divorce of steel falls on me. 
 Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice 
 And lift my soul to Heaven. 
 
 6. King Adrastus, 
 
 Steel'd as thy heart is with the usages 
 Of pomp and power, a few short summers since 
 Thou wert a child, and canst not be relentless. 
 Oh, if maternal love embraced thee then, 
 Think of the mothers who with eyes unwet
 
 LECT.IX.] ON ELOCUTIOIT. ^^ 
 
 Glare on- their perishing children ; hast thou shared 
 The glow of a first friendship which is born 
 'Midst the rude sports of childhood, think of youth 
 Smitten amidst its playthings, let the spirit 
 Of thy own innocent childhood whisper pity. 
 
 7. Haste to your seats : I will but speak a word 
 
 " With our brave friend, and follow ; though convened 
 In speed, let our assembly lack no forms 
 Of due observance, which to furious power 
 Plead with the silent emphasis of years. 
 
 8. Ye eldest Gods, 
 
 Who in no statues of exactest form 
 
 Are palpable ; who shun the azure heights 
 
 Of beautiful Olympus, and the sound 
 
 Of ever young Apollo's minstrelsy ; 
 
 Yet mindful of the empire which ye held 
 
 Over dim Chaos, keep revengeful wrath 
 
 On falling nations and on kingly lines 
 
 About to sink for ever : ye who shed 
 
 Into the passions of Earth's giant brood 
 
 And their fierce usages the sense of justice : 
 
 Who clothe the fated battlements of tyranny 
 
 With blackness as a funeral pall, and breathe 
 
 Through the proud halls of time-emboldened guilt 
 
 Portents of ruin, hear me ! 
 
 9. Come with those downcast eyes sedate and sweet, 
 Those gentle looks that deeply pierce the soul. 
 Where with the light of thoughtful reason mixed 
 Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart ; 
 
 Oh, come ! and while the rosy-footed Ma 
 
 Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
 
 The morning dews ; and gather in their prime _ 
 
 Fresh blooming flowers to grace thy braided hair, 
 
 And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. 
 
 See where the winding vale its lavish stores 
 
 Irriguous spreads. See how the lily drinks 
 
 The latent rills, scarce oozing through the grass 
 
 Of groth luxuriant, or the humid bank 
 
 In fair profusion decks. Long let us walk 
 
 Where the breeze blows from yon extended field 
 
 Of blossoming flowers : Arabia cannot boast 
 
 A fuller gale of joy than from thence 
 
 Breathes through the sense and takes the ravish'd soul. 
 
 10. Maiden, with the meek, brown eyes. 
 In whose orb a shadow lies 
 
 Like the dusk in evening skies ;
 
 134 AVNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 Thou whose locks outshine the sun, . 
 Golden tresses wreathed in one 
 As the braided streamlets run. 
 
 Standing with reluctant feet 
 Where the brook and river meet, 
 Womanhood and childhood fleet. 
 
 Gazing with a timid glance 
 
 On the brooklet's swift advance, 
 
 On the river's broad expanse. 
 
 Deep and still that gliding stream 
 Beautiful to thee must seem 
 As the river of a dream. 
 
 Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 
 In thy heart the dew of youth. 
 On thy lips the smile of truth. 
 
 11. In the name of every generous and honourable feeling — for the 
 sake not merely of those on whose behalf I specially appeal, but for 
 your own sakes, and as you value your own dignity and character, and 
 prize the future independence of your country, come forward, and by 
 one simultaneous exclamation, signify your assent to a measure which 
 will not only have the effect of rescuing the peasantry from ruin, but of 
 rescuing your own character from ignominy and disgrace. Do it in the 
 name of justice, — do it in the name of humanity, — do it in the name of 
 Ireland, — and I trust I do not take His name in vain, when I say — do 
 it in the name of God. 
 
 12. "Press on!" Never despair; never be discouraged, however 
 stormy the heavens, however dark the way; however great the diffi- 
 culties, and repeated the failures, " Press on ! " 
 
 If fortune has played false with thee to-day, do thou play true for 
 thyself to-morrow. If thy riches have taken wings and left thee, do not 
 weep thy Hfe away, but be up and doing, and retrieve the loss by new 
 energies and action. If an unfortunate bargain has deranged thy busi- 
 ness, do not fold thy arms, and give up all as lost ; but stir thyself and 
 work the more vigorously. 
 
 If those whom thou hast trusted have betrayed thee, do not be dis- 
 couraged, do not idly weep, but " Press on ! " find others ; or, what is 
 better, learn to live within thyself Let the foolishness of yesterday 
 make thee wise to-day. If thy affections have been poured out like 
 water in the desert, do not sit down and perish of thirst, but " Press 
 on ! " — a beautiful oasis is before thee, and thou mayest reach it if thou 
 wilt. If another has been false to thee, do not thou increase the evil 
 by being false to thyself. Do not say, the world hath lost its poetry 
 and beauty ; 'tis not so : and even if it is so, make thine own poetry 
 and beauty — by a brave, a true, and above all, a religious life.
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 135 
 
 Rule II. — Sentences that convey supplication or prayer take a 
 general rising inflection throughout their delivery, the key of the voice 
 varying from a low one, if the prayer is very solemn in character, to 
 one more or less high, if the supplication is simply pathetic in its nature. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Oh, save me, Hubert, sdve me. 
 
 For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound— 
 
 Ndy, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, 
 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb. 
 
 Oh spare mine eyes — 
 
 Though to no use but stfll to look on you. 
 
 2. Oh, upon my knees, 
 
 Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, 
 Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom 
 Forethought by Heaven. 
 
 3. It is not more than midnight now. Have mercy ! 
 Oh, do not grasp me with such violence. 
 
 Oh, spare me ! sure I have not injur'd thee ; 
 Let me not weep and pray to thee in vain ! 
 
 4. Oh, look upon me with an eye of mercy ; 
 And, as there dwells a godlike nature in thee. 
 Listen with mildness to my supplications ! 
 
 5. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. 
 
 I know not by what power I am made bold, 
 Nor how it may concern my modesty, 
 In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; 
 But I beseech your Grace that I may know 
 The worst that may befall me in this case, 
 If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 
 
 6. I pray you tarry ; pause a day or two 
 Before you hazard ; for in choosing wrong 
 
 I lose your company ; therefore forbear awhile. 
 
 7. Oh ! you blessed ministers above, 
 
 Keep me in patience ; and with ripened time 
 Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up. 
 
 8. Oh, I beseech thee, 
 
 If my obedience and blameless life. 
 If my humility and meek submission 
 In all things hitherto, can move in thee 
 One feeling of compassion ; if thou art 
 Indeed my father, and canst trace in me 
 One look of her who bore me, or one tone
 
 136 AYATC'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 That doth remind thee of her, let it plead 
 In my behalf, who am a feeble girl — 
 Too feeble to resist ; and do not force me 
 To wed that man. 
 
 9. Oh ! do not let my loved one die ; 
 But rather wait until the time 
 That I am grown in purity 
 Enough to enter Thy pure clime, 
 Then take me — I will gladly go 
 So that my love remain below. 
 
 Oh, let her stay, she is by birth — - 
 What I through Death must learn to be ; 
 We need her more on our poor Earth, 
 Than Thou canst need in Heaven with Thee, 
 She hath her wings already ; I 
 Must burst this earth-shell ere I fly. 
 
 Then, do Thou take me ; we shall be near, 
 More near than ever — each to each ; 
 An angel's ears will find more clear 
 My heavenly than my earthly speech \ 
 And still as I draw near to Thee, 
 Her soul and mine shall closer be, 
 
 TO. O Thou, 
 
 That didst uphold me in my lonely isle, 
 
 Uphold me. Father, in my loneliness 
 
 A little longer ; aid me, give me strength 
 
 Not to tell her, never to let her know ; 
 
 Help me not to break in upon her peace. 
 
 My children too — must I not speak to these P 
 
 They know me not — I should betray myself. 
 
 Never — no father's kiss for me — the girl 
 
 So like her mother — and the boy, my son, — 
 
 Aid me, give me strength 
 
 Not to tell her — never to let her know. 
 
 11, And now, in conclusion, I pray from the bottom of my heart, 
 that He who is the Author of all mercies to mankind, whose divine 
 providence, I am persuaded, guides and ever superintends the trans- 
 actions of this world, and whose guardian spirit has ever watched over 
 this prosperous island, direct and fortify your judgments ! 
 
 12, Yes, I beseech, I entreat you, for the sake of your country, for 
 the sake of your high fame — upon every motive, personal and public — 
 from every consideration, national and individual — pause before you 
 repudiate the means, the only means, by which the spirit of coercion, 
 now carried into a system, shall be restrained, and by which the country 
 shall be saved from all the suffering, the affliction, and the debasement 
 with which at such times it is attended, and without which there is not
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 137 
 
 a glimpse of hope, not a chance the most remote, that the sHghtest 
 palliative will be applied. 
 
 Rule III. — All sentences that express Joy, Love, Friendship, Hope, 
 and in general all the more pleasurable and amiable emotions, partake 
 of a rising inflection, and the voice is usually pitched in keys more or 
 less high ; though where great tenderness, pity, or pathos mingles with 
 the affection, the voice is often modulated into a low soft minor key, as 
 it has been termed in elocution. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Sw^et child of air. 
 
 Never did I behold thee so attired 
 And garmented in beauty as to-night. 
 There's nothing fair or beautiful but takes 
 Soraething from th^e that makes it beautiful. 
 
 2. What you do. 
 
 Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, 
 
 I'd have you do it ever ; when you sing, 
 
 I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms, 
 
 Pray so ; and for the ordering of your affairs, 
 
 To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you 
 
 A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do 
 
 Nothing but that ; move still, still so, 
 
 And own no other function : each your doing, 
 
 So singular in each particular. 
 
 Crowns what you're doing in the present deeds. 
 
 That all your acts are queens. 
 
 3.. Oh, let me breathe my life 
 
 Before this ancient sire, who, it should seem, 
 Hath sometime lov'd ; I take thy hand, this hand, 
 As soft as dove's down, and as white as it. 
 Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow 
 That's bolted by the northern blast twice o'er. 
 
 4. It is a dream, sweet child, a waking dream, 
 A blissful certainty, a vision bright 
 
 Of that rare happiness, which even on earth 
 Heaven gives to those it loves. Now thou art rich. 
 As thou wast ever beautiful and good, 
 And I am now the beggar. 
 
 5. Oh, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
 As glorious to this night, being o'er my head 
 As is a winged messenger of heaven 
 
 Upon the white upturn'd wondering eyes 
 Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him 
 When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
 And sails upon the bosom of the air.
 
 13^ A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [I.ect. IX. 
 
 6. All the stars of heaven, 
 
 The deep blue noon of night, lit by an orb 
 
 Which looks a spirit, or a spirit's world — 
 
 The hues of twilight ; the sun's gorgeous coming — ' 
 
 His setting indescribable, which fills 
 
 My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold 
 
 Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him, 
 
 Along the western paradise of clouds. 
 
 The forest shade, the green bough, the bird's voice — ■ 
 
 The vesper bird's, which seems to sing of love. 
 
 And mingles with the song of Cherubim, 
 
 As the day closes over Eden's walls, — 
 
 All these are nothing to my eyes and heart. 
 
 Like Adah's face ; I turn from earth to heaven 
 
 To gaze on thee. 
 
 7. Ah ! simple heart and sweet, 
 
 You loved me, damsel, surely with a love 
 Far tenderer than my queen's. Pray for thy soul ! 
 Ay, that will I — Farewell, too, now at last, 
 Farewell, fair lily ! 
 
 8. Thy bright image, 
 
 Glassed in my soul, took all the hues of glory. 
 And lured me on to those inspiring toils 
 By which man masters men. For thee I grew 
 A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages. 
 For thee I sought to borrow from each Grace 
 And every Muse, such attributes as lend 
 Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee, 
 And Passion taught me Poesy — of thee ; 
 And on the painter's canvas grew the life 
 Of Beauty. Art became the shadow 
 Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes 
 AEen called me vain — some mad — I heeded not ; 
 But still toil'd on, hoped on, for it was sweet 
 If not to win, to feel more worthy thee ! 
 
 9. O Annie ! 
 
 It is beyond all hope, against all chance, 
 
 That he who left you ten long years agb 
 
 Should still be living ; well then, let me speak ; 
 
 I grieve to see you poor and wanting help : 
 
 I cannot help you as I wish to do. 
 
 Unless — they say that women are so quick — 
 
 Perha[)s you know what I would have you know — • 
 
 I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove 
 
 A father to your children. I do think 
 
 'i'hey love me as a father — I am sure 
 
 That I love them, as if they were mine own ;
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 139 
 
 And I believe, if you were fast my wife, 
 That after all these sad uncertain years, 
 We still might be as happy as God grants 
 To any of His creatures. 
 Oh think upon it, Annie, for I love you. 
 And I have loved you longer than you know. 
 
 10. Hear me, hear me ! 
 
 Astarte ! my beloved ! speak to me. 
 
 I have so much endured — so much endure — 
 
 I know not what I ask — nor what I seek — 
 
 I feel but what thou art — and what I am ; 
 
 And I would hear yet once before I perish. 
 
 The voice which was my music — speak to me ! 
 
 For I have call'd on thee in the still night. 
 
 Startled the slumbering birds from the hush'd boughs, 
 
 And woke the mountain wolves, and made the caves 
 
 Acquainted with thy vainly-echoed name, 
 
 Which answer'd me — many things answer'd me ; 
 
 Spirits and men — but thou wert silent all. 
 
 Yet speak to me — I have outwatch'd the stars. 
 
 And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee — 
 
 Speak to me — I have wandered o'er the earth 
 
 And never found thy likeness. Speak to me — 
 
 Speak to me, though it be in wrath, but say — 
 
 I reck not what — but let me hear thee once — 
 
 This once — once more ! 
 
 11. Nay, speak not; my heart has broken its silence, and you shall 
 
 hear the rest. For you I have endured all the weary bondage of this 
 
 house ; yes, to see you, hear you, breathe the same air, be ever at hand, 
 
 that if others slighted, from one at least you might receive the luxury 
 
 of respect : for this — for this I have lingered, suffered, and forborne. 
 
 We are orphans both — friendless both ; you are all in the world to me ; 
 
 turn not away ; my very soul speaks in these words — / love you ! 
 
 a 
 
 1 2. And now, as I close my task, subduing my desire to linger yet, 
 these faces fade away. But one face, shining on me Hke a heavenly 
 light, by which I see all other objects, is above them and beyond them 
 all. And that remains. I turn my head and see it in its beautiful 
 serenity beside me. My lamp burns low, and I have written far into 
 the night ; but the dear presence without which I were nothing bears 
 me company. O Agnes, O my soul, so may thy face be by me when I 
 close my life indeed ; so may I, when realities are melting from me, 
 like the shadows which I now dismiss, still find thee near me, pointing 
 upward ! 
 
 Rule IV. — Sentences that express wonder, amazement, or surprise 
 take an extreme degree of the rising inflection, and the voice is usually
 
 140 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 pitched in very high keys, unless awe, dread, or terror mingle with the 
 emotion, when keys more or less low in pitch prevail 
 
 Illustratiofis for Practice. 
 
 1. Whdt ! Michael Cassio, that came a-w6oing with you, 
 And md,ny a time when I have spoke of you 
 Disprdisingly, hath ta'en your part. 
 
 To hdve so much to do, to bring him in ! 
 
 2. See ! See ! King Richard doth himself appear, 
 As doth the blushing discontented sun, 
 From out the fiery portal of the East, 
 
 When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
 To dim his glory and to stain the tract 
 Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
 
 3. We are amaz'd, and thus long have we stood 
 To watch the fearful bending of thy knee. 
 Because we thought ourself thy lawful king ! 
 And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 
 
 To pay their awful duty to our presence ? 
 
 4. Are not you mov'd, when all the sway of earth 
 Shakes like a thing infirm ? O Cicero, 
 
 I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds 
 Have riv'd the knotty oaks ; and I have seen 
 The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam 
 To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds ; 
 But never till to-night — never till now, 
 Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 
 
 5. A common slave (you know him well by sight) 
 Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn 
 Like twenty torches joined ; and yet his hand, 
 Not sensible of fire, remained untouched. 
 Besides (I have not since put up my sword), 
 Against the Capitol, I met a lion, 
 
 Which glar'd upon me, and went surly by, 
 Without annoying me : and there were drawn 
 Upon a heap, a hundred ghastly women. 
 Transformed with their fear ; who swore they saw 
 Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. 
 And yesterday the bird of night did sit. 
 Even at noon-day, upon the marketplace, 
 Hooting and shrieking. 
 
 6. Can such things be, 
 
 And overcome us like a summer cloud, 
 
 Without our special wonder? You make me strange 
 
 Even to the disposition that I owe.
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 141 
 
 When now I think you can behold such sights, 
 And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, 
 When mine are blanch'd with fear. 
 
 7. My gracious lord, 
 
 I should report that which I say I saw, 
 
 But know not how to do it : — 
 
 As I did stand my watch upon the hill, 
 
 I look'd towards Birnam, and anon, methought 
 
 The wood began to move — 
 
 Let me endure your wrath if it be not so : 
 
 Within these three miles may you see it coming — 
 
 I say a moving grove. 
 
 5. What ! I that kill'd her husband and his father, 
 To take her in her heart's extremest hate. 
 With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
 The bleeding witness of her hatred by, 
 With God, her conscience, and these bars against me. 
 And I, no friends to back my suit withal 
 But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, 
 And yet to win her ! 
 
 9. Oh beautiful ! oh wondrous ! oh divine .' 
 A scale had fallen from my sight, 
 A marvellous glory was call'd forth 
 And shone upon the face of Earth. 
 I saw millions of spirits darting 
 To and fro athwart the air — spirits 
 That my magic had never yet discern'd, 
 Spirits of rainbow hues, and quivering 
 With the joy that made their nature. 
 Where'er I cast my gaze, life upon life 
 Was visible, — every blade of grass 
 Swarm'd with myriads, invisible 
 To the common eye, but all performing still. 
 With mimic regularity, the varied courses 
 Of the human race ; every grain of dust, 
 Every drop of water, was a universe 
 Mapped into a thousand tribes, and all 
 Fulfilling the destinies of mortality 
 Love, Fear, Hope, Emulation, 
 Avarice, Jealousy, War, Death. 
 
 10. But if all around was life, the life 
 Was of enchantment, harmony, 
 And every element of delight. 
 Speech left me for very joy. I gazed, 
 Thrilled with amazement, on all around me, 
 As I entered, as it were into this new world
 
 142 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 Of life — these inner temples of the great 
 And glorious system of the universe. 
 I stood alone amidst this new 
 And populous creation, and I stretch'd 
 Myself beneath a tree voluptuously, 
 To sate my soul with wonder. 
 
 11, I am astonished, I am shocked to hear such principles confessed 
 — to hear them avowed in this house or in this country. What ! to 
 attribute the sacred sanction of God and nature to the massacres of 
 the Indian scalping-knife — to the cannibal savage torturing, murdering, 
 devouring, drinking the blood of his mangled victims ! 
 
 1 2. It fills us with amazement when we see the reins given unchecked 
 to the passions, even in youth ; but there is some allowance to be made 
 to that boiling season of life when nature is all-impetuous, and the 
 attractions of the world are so intimately felt and so readily obeyed. 
 But what must be our wonder — our astonishment — when we see men, 
 as they decline from their meridian, burning fiercer and fiercer for that 
 world ; shocking the wrinkles on their brow by an insatiable desire for 
 more wealth and distinction ; sacrificing their glorious reversionary 
 hopes for acquisitions that are on the point of being torn from them, 
 and promising themselves a kind of immortality here so long as they 
 behold a single human being one step nearer to the grave ? 
 
 Rule V. — All sentences that are of an exclamatory nature take a 
 general rising inflection ; but the keys in which the voice is pitched 
 vary from very low to very high, in accordance with the character of 
 the emotion of which such sentence is the expression. — (See "Lectures 
 on Modulation of the Voice.") 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. 6 God ! God ! that e'er this tongue of mine 
 That Idid the sentence of drt^ad bdnishment 
 On you, proud man, should take it off again 
 With words of sooth ! Oh, that I were as great 
 As is my grfef ; or lesser than my name ! 
 
 Or that I could forget what I have been. 
 Or not remember what I miist be now ! 
 
 2. Oh, crueller than was ever told in tale 
 Or sung in song ! O vainly lavish'd love ! 
 O cruel ! there was nothing wild or strange 
 Or seeming shameful ; for what shame in love, 
 So love be true, and not as yours is — nothing ? 
 
 3. Stabb'd through the heart's affections to the heart ! 
 Seethed like the kid in its own mother's milk ! 
 Kill'd with a word, worse than a life of blows !
 
 Lect. IX.] ON ELOCUTION. 143 
 
 I thought that he was gentle, being great. 
 
 God, that I had lov'd a smaller man ! 
 
 4. Ah, Richard, with eyes of heavy mind 
 
 1 see thy glory, like a shooting star. 
 
 Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! 
 Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, 
 Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest : 
 Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ; 
 And crossly to thy good all fortune goes ! 
 
 5. Oh, now for ever 
 
 Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell Content ! 
 Farewell the plumed troop, with the big wars 
 That make ambition virtue ! Oh farewell ! 
 Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, 
 The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
 The royal banner, and all quality. 
 Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious War, 
 Farewell ! 
 
 6. Oh ! when the last account 'twixt Heaven and Earth 
 Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal 
 Witness against us to damnation ! 
 
 How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
 Makes ill deeds done ! 
 
 7. Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts 
 Come crowding thickly up for utterance, 
 
 And the poor words of common courtesy 
 
 Are such a very mockery — how much 
 
 The bursting heart may pour itself in Prayer ! 
 
 8. Alas ! for this gray shadow, once a man — 
 So glorious in his beauty and thy choice, 
 Who madest him thy chosen, that he seemed 
 To his great heart none other than a god ! 
 Ay me ! ay me ! with what another heart 
 
 In days far off, and with what other eyes 
 1 used to watch — if I be he that watch'd — 
 The lucid outline forming round thee ; saw 
 The dim curls kindle into sunny rings ; 
 Changed with thy mystic change, and felt my blood 
 Glow with the glow that slowly crimson'd all 
 Thy presence and thy portals while I lay. 
 Mouth, forehead, eyelids growing dewy-warm 
 With kisses balmier than half-opening buds 
 Of April ; and I could hear the lips that kiss'd 
 Whispering, I knew not what, of wild and sweet. 
 Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing. 
 While Ilion, like a mist, rose into towers !
 
 144 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. IX. 
 
 9. Oh, thou beautiful 
 
 And unimaginable Ether ! and 
 Ye multiplying masses of increased 
 And still increasing lights ! 
 Is your cause still measured for ye ? or do ye 
 Sweep on in your unbounded revelry 
 Through an aerial universe of endless 
 Expansion, at which my soul aches to think, 
 Intoxicated with Eternity ? 
 
 God ! O Gods, or whatsoe'er ye are, 
 How beautiful ye are ! how beautiful 
 Your works, or accidents, or whatsoe'er 
 They may be ! Let me die, as atoms die 
 (If that they die), or know ye in your might, 
 And knowledge ! My thoughts are not in this hour 
 Unworthy what I see, though my dust is. 
 
 Spirit ! let me expire or see them nearer ! 
 
 10. My mother Earth, 
 
 And thou, fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains ! 
 
 1 cannot love ye ! 
 
 And thou ! the bright eye of the universe, 
 
 That openest over all, and unto all 
 
 Art a delight ! I'hou shin'st not on my heart. 
 
 And you, ye crags ! upon whose extreme edge 
 
 I stand, and on the torrent's brink, beneath. 
 
 Behold the tall pines, dwindled as to shrubs 
 
 In dizziness of distance, when a leap, 
 
 A stir — a motion, — even a breath would bring 
 
 My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed, 
 
 To rest for ever ! Beautiful ! 
 
 How beautiful is all this visible w^orld ! 
 
 Hark ! the note ! 
 
 The natural music of the mountain reed ! 
 
 INIy soul would drink these echoes ! Oh that I were 
 
 The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, 
 
 A living voice, a breathing harmony, 
 
 A bodiless enjoyment, born and dying 
 
 With the blest tone which made me ! 
 
 II. Ay? And this man dares to talk of conscience ! Conscience, 
 forsooth ! It is enough to make one's blood boil to think on't ! That 
 he who had publicly, and in the open light of day, thrown off every 
 coverlet of shame — that he should, without sense, or memory, or feeling, 
 before the eyes of the whole empire, with the traces of his degradation 
 still fresh upon him, presume to call upon the name of the great and 
 eternal God, and in all the blasphemy of sacrilegious cant, dedicate 
 himself, with an invocation to Heaven, to the everlasting oppression of 
 my country ! This it is that sets me, and every true patriot, on fire !
 
 Lect. IX.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 145 
 
 This it is which raises, excites, inflames, exasperates ! This it is which 
 applies a torch to our passions ! This it is which blows our indignation 
 into flames ! 
 
 12. No ! you will not consign the man whom I defend to the spot to 
 which the Attorney-General invites you to surrender him ! When the 
 spring shall have come again, and the winter shall have passed — when 
 the spring shall have come again — it is not through the windows of a 
 prison-house that the father of such a son, and the son of such a father, 
 shall look on those green hills on which the eyes of many a captive have 
 gazed so wistfully in vain ; but in their own mountain-home again, where 
 they shall Hsten to the murmurs of the great Atlantic, they shall go 
 forth and inhale the freshness of the morning air together ; " they shall 
 be free of mountain solitudes ; " they will be encompassed with the loftiest 
 images of Liberty on every side ; and if time shall have stolen its supple- 
 ness from the father's knee, or impaired the firmness of his tread, he 
 shall lean on the child of her who watches over him from Heaven, and 
 shall look out, far and wide, from some high place, over the island whose 
 greatness and glory shall be for ever associated with his name ! In your 
 love of justice, — in your love of Ireland, — in your love of honesty and 
 fair play, I place my confidence ! I ask you for an acquittal, not only 
 for the sake of your country, but for your own ! And when, upon the 
 day when this trial shall have been brought to a termination, and in 
 answer to the question you will be asked, you shall answer, " Not 
 Guilty," with what a transport will that glorious negative be welcomed. 
 How will you be blessed, adored, worshipped ! And when, retiring from 
 this scene of excitement and of passion, you shall return to your own 
 tranquil homes, how pleasurably will you look upon your children, in 
 the consciousness that you will have left them a patrimony of peace, by 
 impressing upon the British Cabinet that some other measure besides 
 a State prosecution is necessary for the pacification of your country !
 
 LECTURE X. 
 
 Tlie Falling Inflections of the voice — Logical Principles of their application : (i) 
 Where the meaning of a Clause or Sentence is complete ; Illustrations ; (2) Where 
 it is required to keep Clauses distinct and independent ; Illustrations ; (3) Where an 
 Interrogation cannot be answered by a simple Affirmative or Negative ; Illustra- 
 tions ; Exceptions ; Illustrations ; Emotional Uses of the Falling Inflections!: (i) In 
 Sentences expressing Strong Conviction or Solemn Affirmation; Illustrations; (2) 
 In Sentences that Express Command or Authority ; Illustrations ; (3) Where 
 Sentences express Hatred, Anger, &c. ; Illustrations — Use of the Staccato ; 
 Illustrations — Climax, how best Rendered ; Illustrations — Gradual Inflections or 
 Monotone — Uses of the Monotone — When Passa^jes are characterised by Awe or 
 Solemnity ; Illustrations. 
 
 j|E have now to enter upon an examination of the falling inflec- 
 tions of the voice, and of the uses they serve in Elocution. 
 Let us take these first in reference to the logical principles 
 which govern their application, and afterwards consider them 
 
 as regards emotional expression. With respect to the former division, 
 
 I should give this as 
 
 Rule i.— As soon as the meaning of a sentence, or clause of a sen- 
 tence, is logically complete, then the falling inflection must be employed. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 The princely David with his outlaw band, 
 Lodged in the cave Adullam. Wild and fierce, 
 With lion-like faces and with eagle eyes, 
 They followed where he led. The danger press'd ; 
 Far over all the land the Philistines 
 Had spread their arrhies. Through Rephaim's vale 
 The dark tents muster'd thick, and David's home — 
 His father's city Bethlehem, owned them lords. 
 'Twas harvest, and the crops of ripening corn 
 They ravaged ; and with rude feet trampled down 
 The tender vines. Men hid themselves for fear 
 In woods or caves. The brave, undaunted few, 
 Gathering round David, sought the mountain hold.
 
 Lect, X.J KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 147 
 
 2. The setting sun fell low on Zutphen's plain ; 
 The fight was over and the victory won ; 
 And out of all the din and stir of war, 
 They bore the flower of Christian chivalry, 
 
 The life-blood gushing out. He came, the pure, 
 The true, the stainless \ all youth's fiery glow, 
 All manhood's wisdom blended into one ; 
 To help the weak against the strong ; to drive 
 The Spaniard from a land which was not his. 
 And claim the right of all men to be free. 
 Free in their life, their polity, their faith. 
 
 3. Elaine the fair, Elaine the lovable, 
 Elaine the lily maid of Astolat, 
 
 High in her chamber, up a tower to the east. 
 
 Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ; 
 
 Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray 
 
 Might strike it and awake her with the gleam ; 
 
 Then, fearing rust or soilure, fashioned for it 
 
 A case of silk ; and braided thereupon 
 
 All the devices blazoned on the shield 
 
 In their own tinct ; and added of her wit 
 
 A border fantasy of branch and flower. 
 
 And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. 
 
 4. I will tell you : 
 
 The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne 
 
 Burned on the water : the poop was beaten gold. 
 
 Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that 
 
 The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were silver ; 
 
 Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 
 
 The water, which they beat, to follow faster. 
 
 As amorous of their strokes. For her own person. 
 
 It beggared all description : she did lie 
 
 In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue) 
 
 O'er picturing that Venus, where we see 
 
 The fancy outwork nature : on each side her 
 
 Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, 
 
 With diverse-coloured fans, whose wind did seem 
 
 To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, 
 
 And what they undid, did 
 
 5. Now came still evening on, and twilight grey 
 Had in her sober liv'ry all things clad. 
 Silence accompanied : for beast and bird. 
 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests. 
 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale : 
 She, all night long, her am'rous descant sung. 
 Silence was pleas'd. Now glow'd the firmament 
 With living sapphires : Hesperus, that led
 
 I4S KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 The starry host, rode brightest ; till the moon, 
 Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
 Apparent queen, unveil'd her peerless light. 
 And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. 
 
 6. We stood beneath the concave of a blue 
 And cloudless sky : 
 
 With clear voice 
 That falter'd not, albeit the heart was mov'd, 
 
 The Wanderer said : 
 
 " One adequate support 
 For the calamities of mortal life 
 Exists — one only ; an assur'd belief 
 That the procession of our fate, howe'er 
 Sad or disturb'd, is ordered by a Being 
 Of infinite benevolence and power ; 
 Whose everlasting purposes embrace 
 All accidents converting them to good." 
 
 7. I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd 
 With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake, 
 And entering on discourse, such stories told 
 As made me oft revisit his sad cell. 
 
 For he had been a soldier in his youth, 
 
 And fought in famous battles, when the peers 
 
 Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, 
 
 Against the usurping infidel, display'd 
 
 The blessed cross, and won the holy land. 
 
 Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire 
 
 His speech struck from me, the old man would shake 
 
 His years away, and act his young encounters ; 
 
 Then, having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him down, 
 
 And all the livelong day discourse of war. 
 
 To help my fancy, — in the smooth green turf 
 
 He'd cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts, 
 
 Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use 
 
 Of the deep column, and the lengthen'd line, 
 
 The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm. 
 
 For all that Saracen or Christian knew 
 
 Of war's vast art was to this hermit known. 
 
 8. Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue, 
 Pour'd forth with fervour in continuous stream. 
 Such as, remote, 'mid savage wilderness. 
 
 An Indian chief discharges from his breast. 
 Meantime the sun. 
 
 To us who stood low in that hollow dell, 
 Had now become invisible, — a pomp 
 Leaving behind of yellow radiance, spread 
 Over the mountain sides, in contrast bold
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 149 
 
 With ample shadows, seemingly, no less 
 Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest, 
 A dispensation of his evening power. 
 — Adown the path that from the glen had led 
 The funeral train, the shepherd and his mate 
 Were seen descending : forth to greet them ran 
 Our little page ; the rustic pair approach. 
 And we are kindly welcom'd — promptly serv'd 
 With ostentatious zeal. — Along the floor 
 Of the small cottage in the lowly dell 
 A grateful couch was spread for our repose, 
 Where, in the guise of mountaineers, we slept, 
 Stretched upon fragrant heath, and lull'd by sound 
 Of far-off torrents charming the still night. 
 And, to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts, 
 Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness. 
 
 9. Dear is the memory of our wedded lives, 
 And dear the last embraces of our wives, 
 And their warm tears ; but all hath suffered change. 
 And surely now our household hearths are cold : 
 Our sons inherit us : our looks are strange, 
 And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy : 
 Or else the island princes over-bold 
 Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings 
 Before them of the ten years' war in Troy 
 And our great deeds as half-forgotten things. 
 
 10. The lotos blooms below the barren peak : 
 The lotos blows by every winding creek ; 
 All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone. 
 Through every hollow cave and alley lone : 
 
 Round and round the spicy downs the yellow lotos-dust is blown. 
 We have had enough of action and of motion, we 
 Rolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, when the surge was seething 
 
 free, 
 Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. 
 
 II. In the first place, true honour, though it be a different principle 
 from religion, is that which produces the same effects. The lines of 
 action, though drawn from different parts, terminate in the same points. 
 Religion embraces virtue, as it is enjoined by the laws of God ; honour 
 as it is graceful and ornamental to human nature. The religious man 
 fears, the man of honour scorns, to do an ill action. The latter considers 
 vice as something that is beneath him, the other as something that is 
 oifensive to the Divine Being. The one as what is unbecoming, the 
 other as what is forbidden. Thus Seneca speaks in the natural and 
 genuine language of a man of honour, when he declares, that were there 
 no God to see or punish vice, he would not commit it, because it is of 
 so mean, so base, and so vile a nature.
 
 ijo KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 12. Virtue is the foundation of honour and esteem, and the source of 
 all beauty, order, and happiness in nature. It is what confers value on 
 all the other endowments and qualities of a reasonable being, to 
 which the}' ought to be absolutely subservient, and without which, the 
 more eminent they are, the more hideous deformities and the greater 
 curses they become. The use of it is not confined to any one stage of 
 our existence, or to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches^ 
 through all the periods and circumstances of our being. — Many of the 
 endowments and talents we now possess, and of which we are too apt to 
 be proud, will cease entirely with the present state ; but this will be our 
 ornament and dignity in every future state to which we may be removed. 
 Beauty and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and all the arts of life 
 be soon forgot ; but virtue will remain for ever. 
 
 Rule II. — Inasmuch as a falling inflection always suggests to the 
 mind a certain degree of completeness of meaning (just as a rising inflec- 
 tion does of incompleteness) it may be usefully employed in those 
 sentences which consist of several clauses, conveying imperfect sense, 
 and independent of each other's meaning, for the purpose of keeping the 
 several clauses separate and distinct from each other. 
 
 Illustrations for Fraciice. 
 
 1. Swarth figures clothed 
 
 In strange apparel from the further East, 
 
 Bringing their spice and balm from Lebanon 
 
 To tempt our Western beauties ; Ethiop boys, 
 
 Bound for the market, crouching side by side 
 
 With blue-eyed Thracians ; merchants with their wares 
 
 Were mingled on the deck. 
 
 2. You, Lord Archbishop, 
 
 Whose See is by a civil peace maintained ; 
 
 Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched : 
 
 Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored ; 
 
 Whose white investments figure innocence ; 
 
 You do ill translate yourself 
 
 Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war. 
 
 3. And then when Harry Bolingbroke and he 
 Being mounted, and both roused in their seats ; 
 Their neighing coursers daring of the spur ; 
 
 Their armed staves in charge ; their beavers down ; 
 Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steelj 
 And the loud trumpet blowing them together — 
 Then, then the King did throw his warder down. 
 
 4. The passionate prayer — 
 
 The wild idolatry — the purple light 
 Bathing the cold earth from a Hebe's urn. 
 
 I
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 151 
 
 Yea, all the soul's divine excess which youth 
 
 Claims as its own — came back when first I loved thee. 
 
 5. The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself — 
 Yea, all which it inherit — shall dissolve, 
 
 And like this insubstantial pageant faded 
 Leave not a rack behind. 
 
 6. Thy false uncle, 
 
 Being once perfected how to grant suits, 
 
 How to deny them ; whom to advance and whom 
 
 To thrash for overtopping, new created 
 
 The creatures that were mine, or changed them. 
 
 7. The name appended by the burning heart 
 That long'd to show its idol what bright things 
 It had created — yea, the enthusiast's name 
 
 That should have been thy triumph was thy scorn. 
 
 That very hour — when passion, turned to wrath. 
 
 Resembled hatred most — when thy disdain 
 
 Made my whole soul a chaos — in that hour 
 
 The tempters found me a revengeful tool 
 
 For their revenge. Thou hadst trampled on the worm — 
 
 It turned and stung thee. 
 
 8. Yea, the very walls 
 
 And moats of castled forts — the barren seas — 
 The cell wherein the pale-eyed student holds 
 Talk with melodious science — all are sown 
 With everlasting honours, if our souls 
 Will toil for fame, as boors for bread. 
 
 9 Annus from green Tifernum, 
 Lord of the Hill of Vines ; 
 And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves 
 Sicken in Ilva's mines ; 
 And Picus, long to Clusium 
 Vassal in peace and war ; 
 All these led forth the Umbrian powers 
 From that great crag where girt with towers 
 The fortress of Neguinum lowers 
 O'er the pale waves of Nar. 
 
 10. ]\Ien who live a life of moral decency, 
 
 Men who can hear the Decalogue and feel 
 No self-reproach, who of the moral law, 
 Established in the land where they abide, 
 Are strict observers ; men not negligent 
 In acts of love to those with whom they dwell ; 
 Many such as these there are,
 
 152 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 And peace be to them : but such 
 Cold abstinence from evil deeds 
 Is not enough to elevate the soul 
 
 11. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own hearts and 
 characters ; to restrain every irregular inclination ; to subdue every 
 rebellious passion ; to purify the motives of our conduct ; to form 
 ourselves to that temperance which no pleasure can seduce ; to that 
 meekness which no provocation can ruffle ; to that patience which no 
 affliction can overwhelm ; and to that integrity which no interest can 
 shake : this is the task which, in our sojourn here, we are required to 
 accomplish. 
 
 1 2. The causes of good and evil are so various and uncertain, so often 
 entangled with each other, so diversified by various relations, and so 
 much subject to accidents which cannot be foreseen, that he who would 
 fix his condition upon incontestable reasons of preference must live and 
 die inquiring and deliberating. 
 
 Rule III. — Where a sentence is interrogative in its character, but to 
 which a simple affirmative or negative cannot be returned as an answer, 
 but something definite in expression must be given instead, such sentence 
 requires at its close the falling inflection. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Why was I born to taste this depth of woe? 
 Why closed not darkness o'er my infant lift- 
 On that accursed day, when joyful lips. 
 Unknowing of the future, raised the cry, 
 
 " Rejoice, O mother ! Lo ! a child is born ?" 
 
 2. In what have I offended you ? what cause 
 Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure 
 That thus you should proceed to put me off 
 And take your good grace from me ? 
 
 When was the hour 
 
 I ever contradicted your desire, 
 
 Or made it not mine too ? Which of your friends 
 
 Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
 
 He was mine enemy ? What friend of mine 
 
 That had to him derived your anger, did I 
 
 Continue in my liking? 
 
 3. Why droops my lord like over-ripened corn, 
 Hanging the head at care's plenteous load ? 
 Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows 
 As frowning at the favours of the world ? 
 Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth, 
 Ga/.ing on that which seems to dim thy sight ? 
 What seest thou there ?
 
 Lkct. X.] 
 
 ON elocution: ^53 
 
 4 What ! my young master ? Why, what make you here ? 
 Why are you virtuous ? Why do people love you ? 
 And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ? 
 Why would you be so fond to overcome 
 The haughty pride of the humorous Duke? 
 
 c. Why have you made your other love 
 
 (Who even but now did spurn me with his foot) 
 To call me goddess, nymph, divine, and rare, 
 Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this 
 To her he hates? And wherefore doth Lysander 
 Deny your love, so rich within his soul. 
 And tender me, forsooth ! affection, 
 But by your setting on, by your consent ? 
 
 6. For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, 
 Have found the ground of study's excellence 
 Without the beauty of a woman's face ? 
 And where is any author in the world 
 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? 
 And when would you, my liege, or you, or you, 
 In leaden contemplation have found out 
 Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes 
 Of beauty's tutors have enriched you with ? 
 
 n. How can I sleep? 
 
 How can you wish that I should sleep when night 
 Succeeds to night, and still the unconquer'd wind, 
 Laden with snow and hailstones dashes round us 
 As if in scorn of Highlanders, content 
 To yield the fastnesses in which it held 
 Joint empire with our sires ; and still the fear 
 That it hath dealt its vengeance on the head 
 We love, increases ;— with the time o'erpast 
 For sad and shameful travel ? 
 
 8. Why, who cries out on pride 
 
 That can therein tax any private party ? 
 
 What woman in the city do I name? 
 
 When that I say the city-woman bears 
 
 The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? 
 
 Who can come in and say that I mean her, 
 
 When such a one as she, such is her neighbour? 
 
 Or what is he of laxest function 
 
 That says his bravery is not on my cost, 
 
 Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits 
 
 His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
 
 9. Tell me who thou art ? 
 
 What generous source owns that heroic blood 
 
 Which holds its course thus bravely ? What great wars
 
 154 K'lNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 Have nursed this courage that can look on death — 
 Certain and speedy death — with placid eye, 
 Whence came that tone, that smile ? What idle dream 
 Of long-past days hath melted me ? 
 
 ro. Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell 
 
 Why thy canonised bones, hearsed in death, 
 
 Have burst their cerements ? Why the sepulchre 
 
 Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned 
 
 Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws 
 
 To cast thee up again ? What may this mean 
 
 That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel 
 
 Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon. 
 
 Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature 
 
 So horridly to shake our disposition 
 
 With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 
 
 Say, why is this ? Wherefore ? What should we do ? 
 
 11. What war has thus laid waste the fertile fields of this once 
 beautiful and opulent country ? — what civil dissensions have happened, 
 thus to tear asundfer and separate the happy societies that once possessed 
 these villages? — what disputed succession, what religious rage, has, 
 with unholy violence, demolished those temples, and disturbed fervent, 
 but unobtruding piety, in the exercise of its duties? — what merciless 
 enemy has thus spread the horrors of fire and sword? — what severe 
 visitation of Providence has dried up the fountain, and taken from the 
 face of the earth every vestige of verdure ? — Or, rather, what monsters 
 have stalked over the country, tainting and poisoning with pestiferous 
 breath what the voracious appetite could not devour ? 
 
 1 2. Who is it that causes this river to rise in the high mountains, 
 and to empty itself in the ocean ? Who is it that causes to blow the 
 loud winds of winter, and that calms them again in the summer ? Who is 
 it that rears up the shade of these lofty forests, and blasts them with the 
 quick lightning at His pleasure ? Who but the same Great Spirit who gave 
 to you a country on the other side of the waters, and gave ours to us ? 
 
 I think I have now given you what seems to me, after the best con- 
 sideration I have been able to bestow upon the subject, the principal 
 rules that govern the falling inflections, so far as regards the logical 
 uses which they serve in reference to the utterance of clauses or 
 sentences that come within their application. But before I proceed 
 to any illustration of the emotional uses of the falling inflections, I 
 have to mention one rule regarding the pronunciation of penultimate 
 clauses which forms apparently an exception to the first general rule 
 given above ; and the exception is this : — we ought not, without 
 absolute necessity, to adopt the falling inflection upon the last member 
 but one of a sentence. The foundation of this rule is the natural 
 perception of melody by the ear, which (as Walker observes) has as 
 much dislike to a too great similitude of consecutive sounds as the
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 155 
 
 understanding has to a want of sufificient distinction between members 
 differently connected. When this distinction, therefore, is sufficiently 
 obvious, and no improper connection is formed by using the rising 
 inflection, the ear always requires this inflection on the penultimate 
 member ; for, as the last member must almost always be terminated by 
 the falling inflection at it's close, a falling inflection immediately pre- 
 ceding it in the penultimate member would be too close a repetition of 
 similar sounds. Hence arises the propriety of the general rule that a 
 penultimate clause takes a rising inflection. The following sentence 
 will serve to illustrate the principle on which this rule is based : 
 
 " The Deity has annexed a secret pleasure to anything that is new- 
 er uncommon, that He might encourage us in the pursuit after know- 
 ledge, and engage us to search into the wonders of His creation ; for 
 every new idea brings such a pleasure along with it as rewards any 
 pains we have taken in the acquisition, and consequently serves as a 
 motive to put us upon fresh discoveries." 
 
 When, however, the penultimate clause terminates with a word that 
 is specially emphatic, or which implies an antithesis, the desired effect 
 is best produced by ending the penultimate clause with either a simple 
 falling inflection in the first case, or what is termed a falling circumflex 
 in the latter. Of the circumflex inflections I shall speak fully in my 
 next Lecture. The following sentence will serve as an example of this 
 principle : 
 
 "I must therefore desire you to remember that by the pleasures of 
 the imagination I meant only such pleasures as arise originally from 
 sight, and that I divide these pleasures into two kinds." 
 
 In this sentence you observe that the word " sight " is emphatic, and, 
 though ending the penultimate clause, should have, not the rising, but 
 the falling inflection, as this inflection best brings out the effect of an 
 emphatic phrase. 
 
 I now proceed to consider the principal emotional uses of the falling 
 inflections, and this, as being the nearest allied to the logical uses, I 
 should place as 
 
 Rule I. — Where it is desired to convey the impression of solemn 
 affirmation or strong conviction of the truth of what we say, emphatic 
 falling inflections on the principal words, even though the sentence may 
 be negative in form of construction, produce the desired effect ; and 
 the keys in which the inflections are pitched are in general low. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 Besides, I sky, and will in battle prove, — 
 
 Or h^re, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge 
 
 That ever was surveyed by English eye, — 
 
 That all the treasons for these eighteen years 
 
 Complbtted and contrived in this land. 
 
 Fetch from false Mowbray their first h^ad and spring.
 
 156 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 Further, I say, and further will maintc\in 
 
 Upon his bad life to make all this good, 
 
 That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death. 
 
 Suggest his soon-believing adversaries. 
 
 And consequently like a traitor-coward 
 
 Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood ; 
 
 Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries 
 
 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth 
 
 To me, for justice and rough chastisement ! 
 
 And by the glorious worth of my descent. 
 
 This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 
 
 2. Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, ■ i 
 Disburst I duly to his Highness' soldiers ; 
 
 The other part reserved I by consent, 
 
 For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, 
 
 Upon remainder of a dear account. 
 
 Since last I went to France to fetch his Queen : 
 
 Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, — 
 
 I slew him not ; but, to my own disgrace, 
 
 Neglected my sworn duty in that case. 
 
 3. God's is the quarrel ; for God's substitute. 
 His deputy anointed in His sight, 
 
 Hath caused his death ; the which if wrongfully, 
 Let God avenge ; for I may never lift 
 An angry arm against His minister. 
 
 4. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, — 
 I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs, 
 And laboured all I could to do him right : 
 But in this kind to come in braving arms. 
 Be his own carver, and cut out his w^ay, 
 
 To find out right with wrong, it may not be ; 
 And you that do abet him in this kind 
 Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all. 
 
 5. Tell Bolingbroke (for yond' methinks he is) 
 That every stride he makes upon my land 
 Is dangerous treason. He is come to ope 
 The purple testament of bleeding war : 
 
 But e'er the crown he looks for hve in peace 
 Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons 
 Shall ill become the flower of England's face. 
 Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace 
 To scarlet indignation ; and bedew 
 Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. 
 
 6. I will avenge this insult, noble Queen, 
 Done in your maiden's person to yourself; 
 And I will track this vermin to their earths :
 
 Lect. X.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. ^57 
 
 For though I ride unarmed I do not doubt 
 To find, at some place I shall come at, arms 
 On loan, or else for pledge ; and, being found, 
 Then will I fight him, and will break his pride. 
 And on the third will again be here. 
 So that I be not fallen in fight Farewell. 
 
 7. And if there were a hundred in the wood, 
 And every man were larger limb'd than I, 
 And all at once should sally out upon me, 
 I swear it would not ruffle me so much, 
 As you that not obey me. 
 
 8. jMe you call great : mine is the firmer seat, 
 The truer lance ; but there is many a youth 
 Now crescent, who will come to all I am, 
 And overcome it ; and in me there dwells 
 No greatness, save it be some far-off touch 
 Of greatness, to know well I am not great. 
 There is the man. 
 
 9. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood : 
 Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ; 
 For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
 Shall blow each dust, each straw, each litde rub 
 Out of the path which shall directly lead 
 
 Thy foot to England's throne ; and therefore mark : 
 
 John hath seized Arthur ; and it cannot be 
 
 That whilst warm life plays in that infant's veins. 
 
 The misplaced John should entertain an hour, 
 
 One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. 
 
 A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand 
 
 Must be as boisterously maintained as gained ; 
 
 And he that stands upon a slippery place 
 
 INIakes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 
 
 That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall. 
 
 10. Your Grace must pardon me : I will not back, 
 I am too high-born to be propertied. 
 
 To be a secondary at control. 
 
 Or useful serving-man, and instrument 
 
 To any sovereign state throughout the world, 
 
 Your breath first kindled the dead coals of war, 
 
 Between this chastised kingdom and myself. 
 
 And brought in matter that should feed this fire, 
 
 And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out_ 
 
 With that same weak wind which first enkindled it. 
 
 T I Gentlemen, in thus declaring my opinion, I place it as my own 
 opinion in front of my address to you, and I wish you not to mistake 
 for the mere zeal of professional duty the energies of truth and freedom.
 
 158 AGING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 For although, in ordinary cases, the advocate and the private man ought 
 in sound discretion to be kept asunder, yet there are occasions where 
 such separation would be treachery and meanness. In a case where 
 the dearest rights of society are to be supported by resisting a prosecu- 
 tion of which the party accused is but a mere name ; where the whole 
 community is to be wounded through the sides of that party ; and 
 where the conviction of the individual will be the subversion or 
 surrender of public privileges, the advocate has a more extensive charge. 
 The duty of the patriot citizen then mingles itself with its obligation to 
 his client, and he disgraces himself, dishonours his profession, and 
 betrays his country, if he does not step forth in his genuine character, 
 and vindicate the rights of his fellow-citizens, which are attacked through 
 the medium of the man he is defending. Gentlemen, I do not shrink 
 from that responsibility upon this occasion, but desire to be considered 
 the fellow-criminal of the defendant, if, by your verdict, he shall be 
 found a criminal. 
 
 12. From the Star-Chamber, gentlemen, the prevention and punish- 
 ment of libels descended to the courts of common law : and, with the 
 power, they seem to have inherited much of the spirit of that tribunal. 
 Servility at the bar, and profligacy on the bench, have not been wanting 
 to aid every construction unfavourable to freedom : and, at length, it is 
 taken as granted, and as clear law, that truth or falsehood is quite 
 immaterial, constituting no part of either guilt or innocence. 
 
 I would wish to examine this revolting doctrine ; and, in doing so, I 
 am proud to tell you that it has no other foundation than in the oft- 
 repeated assertions of lawyers and judges. One servile writer has stated 
 this doctrine, from time to time, after another — and one overbearing 
 judge has re-echoed the assertion of a time-serving predecessor — and 
 the public have at length submitted. I do, therefore, feel not only 
 gratified in having the occasion, but bound to express my opinion upon 
 the real law of this subject. I know that opinion is but of Uttle weight. 
 I have no professional rank or station to give it importance ; but it is 
 an honest and conscientious opinion, and it is this; — that, in the 
 discussion of public subjects, and of the administration of public men, 
 truth is a duty and not a crime. 
 
 Rule II. — Sentences that express command, reprehension, or 
 authority, take emphatic falling inflections, and the range of the voice 
 in pitch is usually from the middle to lower keys. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 I. We are not born to sue, but to command, 
 Which since we cannot do to make you friends, 
 Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, 
 At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day. 
 Th^re shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
 The swelling difference of your settled h^te.
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 159 
 
 Since we cannot atone you, you shall see 
 Justice decide the victor's chivalry. 
 Lord Marshal, bid our officers-atarms 
 Be ready to direct these home alkrms. 
 
 2. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, 
 Which I with some unwillingness pronounce 
 The fly-slow hours shall not determinate 
 The dateless limit of thy dear exile : 
 
 The hopeless word of 7iever to return, 
 Breathe I against thee upon pain of life. - 
 
 3. i must prevent thee, Cimber. 
 
 These couchings and these lowly courtesies 
 
 Might fire the blood of ordinary men, 
 
 And turn pre-ordinance and first decree 
 
 Into the law of children. Be not fond 
 
 To think that Cssar bears such rebel blood 
 
 That will be thaw'd from the true quality 
 
 With that which melteth fools — I mean sweet words, 
 
 Low-crooked courtesies, and base spaniel fawning. 
 
 Thy brother by decree is banished ; 
 
 If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him, 
 
 I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. 
 
 Know Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause 
 
 Will he be satisfied. 
 
 4. While'we waited for his words 
 
 Another voice from the deep shade that gloom'd 
 Beyond the death-bed came; and 'midst it stood 
 The squalid figure of a woman, WTOUght 
 Beyond the natural stature as she stretched 
 Her withered finger towards the youth and spoke — 
 " Halbert, obey. The hour which sees thee rule 
 O'er the Macdonalds of Glencoe, shall bring 
 Terror and death." 
 
 5. Spirits of earth and air, 
 
 Ye shall not thus elude me ; by a power 
 Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant spell. 
 Which had its birthplace in a star condemn'd, 
 The burning wreck of a demolish'd world, 
 A wandering hell in the eternal space ; 
 By the strong curse which is upon my soul, 
 The thought that is within me and around me, 
 I do compel ye to my will. Appear ! 
 
 6. Convey this man to the Shreckhorn — to its peak, — 
 To its extremest peak — watch him there 
 
 From now till sunrise ; let him gaze and know 
 He ne'er again will be so near to heaven.
 
 l6o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X 
 
 But harm him not, and when the morrow breaks 
 Set him down safe in his cell — away with him. 
 
 7. You will not, boy ! you dare to answer thus ! 
 But in my time a father's word was law, 
 And so it shall be now for me. Look to it ; 
 Consider, William : take a month to think, 
 And let me have an answer to my wish ; 
 
 Or by the Lord that made me, you shall pack, 
 And never more darken my doors again. 
 
 8. Give this answer to the envoys — 
 
 This to De Chavigny — he knows the rest — 
 No need of parchment here — he must not halt 
 For sleep, for food. In my name ! mine ! — he will 
 Arrest the Duke de Bouillon at the head 
 Of his army. Ho ! there. Count de Baradas, 
 Thou hast lost the stake. Away with him ! 
 
 9. Yes, gold — no one can need it more than I — 
 I who lurk about in dismal suburbs 
 
 And unwholesome lanes ; I who am housed 
 
 Worse than the galley-slave ; I who am fed 
 
 Worse than the kennell'd hound ; I who am clothed in rags ; 
 
 I, Beltran Cruzado, here do tell thee now, 
 
 I want the Buzn^'s gold, give me his gold. 
 
 And if I have it not, I tell thee this, 
 
 Thou shalt no longer dwell here in rich chambers. 
 
 Wear silken dresses, feed on dainty food, 
 
 And live in idleness ; but go with me, 
 
 Dance the Romalis in the public streets, 
 
 And wander wild again o'er field and fell ; 
 
 For here we stay not long. 
 
 10. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
 In all my miseries, but thou hast forc'd me. 
 Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 
 Let's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, Cromwell, 
 And when I am forgotten, as I shall be. 
 And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
 Of me must more be heard, say then I taught thee; 
 Say Wolsey, that once rode the waves of glory, 
 And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, 
 Found thee a way out of his wreck to rise in : 
 A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
 Mark but my fall, and that which ruin'd me : 
 Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ; 
 By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then 
 (Though th' image of his Maker) hope to win by't ? 
 Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that wait thee ; 
 Corruption wins not more than honesty.
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. l6r 
 
 Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
 
 To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 
 
 Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy Country's, 
 
 Thy God's, and Truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, 
 
 Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the King 
 
 And pr'ythee lead me in 
 
 There take an inventory of all I have, 
 
 To the last penny, 'tis the King's. My robe, 
 
 And my integrity to Heav'n, is all 
 
 I dare now call my own. 
 
 11. A\Yay ! then, with impiety; peace! to those turbulent discords 
 and dissensions which break and dissolve the concord of human society, 
 the heavenly bond of public union, and let our study be, to make 
 ourselves good and beneficent to the utmost of our power. If some- 
 thing more than a common share of riches and wealth fall to our lot, 
 let it not be squandered for the pleasure of one, but imparted for the 
 welfare of all. For pleasure is as short-lived as the body to which 
 it ministers ; but justice and beneficence are as immortal as the soul 
 that by its good deeds assimilates itself to God. Let us consecrate 
 Him not in temples, but in our hearts ; for all things are destructible 
 which are made with hands. Let us purify that temple which is defiled, 
 not by smoke or by dust, but by evil thoughts ; that temple which is 
 illumined, not by burning tapers, but by the clear light of wisdom : in 
 which, if we think that God is ever present, we shall so live as to have 
 Him always propitious, without any cause to fear His wrath. 
 
 12. Let the young go out, in these hours, under the descending sun 
 of the year, into the fields of nature. Their hearts are now ardent 
 with hope — with the hopes of fame, of honour, or of happiness ; and, 
 in the long perspective which is before them, their imagination creates 
 a world where all may be enjoyed. Let the scenes which they now 
 may witness moderate, but not extinguish, their ambition ; — while they 
 see the yearly desolation of nature, let them see it as the emblem of 
 mortal hope ; — while they feel the disproportion between the powers 
 they possess, and the time they are to be employed, let them carry 
 their ambitious eye beyond the world ; — and while, in these sacred 
 solitudes, a voice in their own bosom corresponds to the voice of 
 decaying nature, let them take that high decision which becomes those 
 who feel themselves the inhabitants of a greater world, and who look to 
 a Being incapable of decay. 
 
 Rule HI. — It may be said as a general principle that all the sterner, 
 harsher, and more vindictive passions, such as anger, hatred, detesta- 
 tion, &c., take the most extreme degree of the emphatic falling inflec- 
 tion : and the voice, though for the most part loud in power, is pitched 
 in the lowest keys.
 
 163 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Now by the sacred radiance of the sun, 
 The mysteries of Hecate, and the night, 
 By all the operations of the orbs, 
 
 From whom we do exi'st and cea^se to be ; 
 Here I disclaim all my paternal ckre. 
 Propinquity, and property of blood, 
 And as a stranger to my hekrt and me, 
 HoPd thee from this for ever. 
 
 2. Hear me, recreant. 
 
 Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow. 
 Which we durst never yet, and with strained pride 
 To come betwixt our sentence and our power. 
 Our potency made good, take thy reward. 
 Five days we do allot thee for provision, 
 To shield thee from disasters of the world ; 
 And on the sixth day to turn thy hated back 
 Upon our kingdom ; if the tenth day following 
 Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, 
 That moment is thy death. Away ! by Jupiter, 
 This shall not be revok'd ! 
 
 3. Life and death ! I am ashamed 
 
 That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ; 
 That these hot tears which break from me perforce, 
 Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee ! 
 The untented woundings of a father's curse 
 Pierce every sense about thee ! 
 
 4. Poison be their drink ; 
 
 Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste j 
 Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ; 
 Their sweetest prospects, murdering basilisks ; 
 Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings ; 
 Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss, 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full 
 With the foul terrors of dark-seated Hell. 
 
 5. He is my bane ; I cannot bear him ; 
 
 One heaven and earth can never hold us both ; 
 Still shall we hate, and with defiance deadly 
 Keep rage alive till one be lost for ever ; 
 As if two suns should meet in one meridian, 
 And strive in fiery combat for the passage. 
 
 6. I know not ; if they speak but truth of her, 
 
 These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her honour, 
 The proudest of them well shall hear of it. 
 Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. i6: 
 
 Nor age so eat up my invention, 
 Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 
 Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, 
 But they shall find awak'd in such a kind 
 To quit me of them thoroughly. 
 
 7. Nothing I'll bear from thee 
 
 But nakedness, thou detestable town; 
 Take thou that, too, with multiplying banns. 
 The gods confound — hear me, ye good gods all ! — 
 The Athenians, both within and out that wall, 
 And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow 
 To the wb.ole race of mankind, high and low. 
 
 8. Look to your hearths, my lords — 
 
 For there henceforth shall sit as household gods 
 Shapes hot from Tartarus — all shames and crimes — 
 Wan Treachery with his thirsty dagger drawn — ■ 
 Suspicion poisoning his brother's cup — 
 Naked Rebellion with the torch and axe. 
 Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 
 Till Anarchy come down on you like night, 
 And massacre seal Rome's eternal grave. 
 
 9. This, and all illusion do I curse. 
 
 All that beguiles us, man or boy — that winds 
 
 Over the heart its net, and chains us here 
 
 In thraldom down or voluntary chance. 
 
 This magic jugglery that fools the soul. 
 
 These obscure powers that cloud and flatter it. 
 
 Oh ! cursed first of all be the high thoughts 
 
 That man conceives of his own attributes ; 
 
 And cursed be the shadowy appearances. 
 
 The false, delusive images of things, 
 
 That slave and mock the senses. Cursed be 
 
 The hypocrite dreams that soothe us when we think 
 
 Of fame, of deathless and enduring names. 
 
 Cursed be all that, in self-flattery. 
 
 We call our own — wife, child, and slave, and plough. 
 
 Curse upon Mammon, when with luring gold 
 
 He stirs our souls to hardy deeds, or when 
 
 He smooths the couch of indolent repose. 
 
 A curse upon the sweet grape's balmy juice, 
 
 And the passionate joys of love, man's highest joys. 
 
 And cursed be all hope and all belief; 
 
 And cursed, more than all, man's tame endurance. 
 
 10. I grieve to see the company thou keepest — 
 The man whom thou hast ever at thy side, 
 
 I hate him from the bottom of my soul.
 
 r64 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 The very sight of him makes my blood thrill. 
 
 To most men I feel kindliness — but him 
 
 Do I detest ; and with a feeling strong — 
 
 Strong as my love for you — strong as my wishes 
 
 To have you with me — does a secret shudder 
 
 Creep over me when I behold this man. 
 
 He is — I cannot be deceived — a villain. 
 
 I would not, could not, live together with him. 
 
 He feels no love for any living soul ; — 
 
 And when I am so happy in thine arms, 
 
 Forgetting everything but thee, then, then 
 
 He's sure to come, and my heart shrinks and withers. 
 
 This hatred overmasters me so wholly 
 
 That, if he does but join us, straightway it seems 
 
 As if I ceased to love thee. Where he is 
 
 I could not pray. This eats into my heart. 
 
 1 1. The right honourable gentleman has called me " an unimpeached 
 traitor." I ask, why not "traitor," unqualified by any epithet? I will 
 tell him ; it was because he dare not. It was the act of a coward, 
 who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I 
 will not call him villain, because it would be unparliamentary, and he 
 is a privy councillor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to 
 be Chancellor of the Exchequer. But I say he is one who has abused 
 the privilege of Parliament and freedom of debate, to the uttering 
 language which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with 
 a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his character, how 
 contemptible his speech ; whether a privy councillor or a parasite, my 
 answer would be a blow. 
 
 The right honourable member has told me I deserted a profession 
 where wealth and station were the reward of industry and talent. If I 
 mistake not, that gentleman endeavoured to obtain those rewards by the 
 same means ; but he soon deserted the occupation of a barrister for 
 that of a parasite and pander. He fled from the labour of study to 
 flatter at the table of the great. He found the lord's parlour a better 
 sphere for his exertions than the hall of the Four Courts ; the house 
 of a great man, a more convenient way to power and to place ; and that 
 it was easier lor a statesman of middling talents to sell his friends, than 
 a lawyer of no talents to sell his clients. 
 
 12. I have returned, not, as the right honourable member has said, 
 to raise another storm — I have returned to discharge an honourable 
 debt of gratitude to my country, that conferred a great reward for past 
 services, which, I am proud to say, was not greater than my desert. I 
 have returned to protect that constitution, of which I was the parent 
 and the founder, from the assassination of such men as the honourable 
 gentleman and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt — they are 
 seditious — and they, at this very moment, are in a conspiracy against 
 their country. I have returned to refute a libel, as false as it is
 
 Lect. X.] ON ELOCUTION. 165 
 
 malicious, given to the public under the appellation of a report of the 
 committee of the Lords. Here I stand ready for impeachment or trial : 
 I dare accusation. I defy the honourable gentleman ; 1 defy the 
 government ; I defy the whole phalanx : let them come forth. I tell the 
 ministers I will neither give them quarter nor take it. I am here to lay 
 the shattered remains of my constitution on the floor of this House, in 
 defence of the liberties of my country. 
 
 Rule IV. — In sentences that express gloom, dejection, melancholy, 
 and similar distressing emotions, falling inflections predominate, and 
 the voice is pitched in keys more or less low, and the time is slow. 
 
 Illiisiraiiofis for Practice. 
 
 1. My soul is sad that I have roamed through life, 
 Still most a stranger, most with naked heart 
 
 At mine own home and birthplace : chiefly then 
 When I remember thee, my earliest friend — 
 Thee, who didst wktch my boyhood and my youth, 
 Didst trace my wanderings with a father's eye ; 
 And boding evil, yet still hoping good. 
 Rebuked each fault, and over all my woes 
 Sorrowed in silence. 
 
 2. Sad lot to have no hope ! Though lowly kneeling, 
 He fain would frame a prayer within his breast. 
 Would fain entreat for some sweet breath of healing. 
 That his sick body might have ease and rest. 
 
 He strove in vain — the dull sighs from his chest. 
 
 Against his will, the stifling load reveahng 
 
 Though nature forced ; though like some captive guest, 
 
 Some royal prisoner at his conqueror's feast, 
 
 An alien's restless mood but half concealing, 
 
 The sternness on his gentle brow confessed 
 
 Sickness within and miserable feeling. 
 
 3. A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear — 
 A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief 
 Which finds no natural outlet or relief 
 
 In word, or sigh, or tear. 
 
 My genial spirits fail, 
 
 And naught can these avail 
 
 To lift the smothering weight from off my breast. 
 
 It were a vain endeavour 
 
 Though I should gaze for ever 
 
 On that green light that lingers in the west. 
 
 4. I am not sleepy. 
 
 And yet I must to bed ; I fain would say 
 To rest, but something heavy on my spirit,
 
 I 
 
 l66 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 Too dull for wakefulness, too quick for slumber, 
 
 Sits on me, as a cloud along the sky 
 
 Which will not let the sunbeams through, 
 
 Nor yet descend in rain and end, but spreads itself 
 
 'Twixt earth and heaven, hke envy between man 
 
 And man — an everlasting mist. 
 
 5. Death — I know not what is, 
 Yet it seems horrible. I have look'd out 
 In the vast, desolate night in search of him; 
 And when I saw gigantic shadows in 
 
 The umbrage of the walls of Eden, chequer'd 
 
 By the far flashing of the cherubs' swords, 
 
 1 watch'd for what I thought his coming ; for 
 
 With fear rose longing in my heart to know M 
 
 What 'twas which shook us all— but nothing came : ■ 
 
 And then I turned my weary eyes from off 
 
 Our native and forbidden Paradise, „ 
 
 Up to the lights above us in the azure, 
 
 Which are so beautiful. 
 
 6. My head is low, and no man cares for me ; 
 I think I have not three days more to live ; 
 My God has bowed me down to what I am ; 
 My grief and solitude have broken me ; 
 Nevertheless, know you that I am he 
 Who married — but that name has twice been changed— 
 I married her who married Philip Ray. 
 Sit, woman, sit and listen. 
 
 7. All within is dark as night ; 
 In the windows is no light ; 
 And no murmur at the door, 
 So frequent on its hinge before. 
 Close the door, the shutters close. 
 Or through the windows we shall see 
 The nakedness and vacancy 
 Of the dark, deserted house. 
 Come away : no more of mirth 
 Is here, or merry-making sound ; 
 The house was builded of the earth, 
 And shall fall again to ground. 
 
 8. Her tears fell with the dews at even ; 
 Her tears fell ere the dews were dried ; 
 She could not look on the sweet heaven. 
 Either at noon or eventide. 
 After the flitting of the bats, 
 When thickest dark did trance the sky. 
 She drew her casement curtain by 
 And glanced across the glooming flats.
 
 Lect. X.I ON ELOCUTION. 167 
 
 She only said, " The night is dreary ; 
 He Cometh not," she said; 
 She said, " I am aweary — aweary ; 
 I would that I were dead." 
 
 9. Peace — I have sought it where it should be found, 
 In love — with love, too, which perhaps deserved it ; 
 And in its stead a heaviness of heart — 
 A weakness of the spirit — listless days, 
 •^ And nights inexorable to sweet sleep 
 
 Have come upon me. Peace — what peace ? the calm 
 
 Of desolation, and the stillness of 
 
 The untrodden forest, only broken by groaning, 
 
 The sweeping forest through its boughs : 
 
 Such is the sullen or the fitful state 
 
 Of my mind overworn. The earth's grown wicked, 
 
 And many sighs and portents have proclaimed 
 
 A change at hand, and an o'er whelming doom 
 
 To perishable beings. 
 
 10. Say that again — 
 
 The shadow of my sorrow — ay, let's see 
 'Tis very true, my grief lies all Avithin ; 
 And these external manners of lament 
 Are merely shadows to the unseen grief 
 That. swells with silence in my tortur'd soul; 
 There lies the substance : and I thank thee, king. 
 For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st 
 Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way 
 How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon. 
 And then begone and trouble you no more. 
 
 II. I have of late (but wherefore I know not) lost all my mirth, 
 foregone all custom of exercises ; and indeed it goes so heavily with 
 my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile 
 promontory ; this most excellent canopy, the air — look you — this brave 
 o'erhanging firmament — this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire 
 — why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent 
 congregation of vapours. 
 
 12. My soul is weary of my life. I will leave my complaint upon 
 myself I will speak in the heaviness of my heart. Though I speak, 
 my grief is not assuaged ; and though I forbear, I am not eased. 
 Behold, I go forward, but God is not there ; and backward, but I 
 cannot perceive Him. I seek Him on the left hand where He doth 
 work, but I cannot behold Him ; He hideth Himself on the right 
 hand, so that I cannot see Him. 
 
 I trust that practice in reading the foregoing illustrations of the several 
 rules will not only soon give you the requisite compass and flexibility of 
 voice, but will also make you quite familiar with the principles on which
 
 i68 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [I.ect. X. 
 
 they are founded. You cannot carefully go through them yourselves, 
 or, indeed, listen to them when properly read, without perceiving that 
 the kinds and degrees of the two classes of inflections with which words 
 are pronounced are peculiarly expressive of their logical relation to the 
 context, as well as of the emotional feeling of the speaker. Indeed, 
 it may be said that the inflections constitute a natural language, of which 
 all the races of mankind are intuitively conscious ; and any close 
 observer will soon discover that the language of the inflections is most 
 developed when the feelings are the most excited, and the speaker is 
 most free from any necessity to restrain their expression. 
 
 Before I pass from the two great groups of the simple rising and 
 falling inflections, I have to speak of sentences of peculiar forms of 
 construction, which take exceptional uses of the inflections. 
 
 In general, the words of a sentence, as we pronounce them, flow on 
 upon continuous waves of sound, except where the current is, as it were, 
 interrupted by grammatical, or what are termed rhetorical, pauses. Thus 
 the sentence is broken up, if I may use the expression, into groups of 
 words, each group flowing on upon its own wave of inflection, either 
 rising or falling in the musical scale. Such an illustration as the follow- 
 ing will serve to exemplify my meaning. 
 
 When 7 at-length 7 Hyder-Ali 7 found "T that-he-had-to-do-with-men 7 
 who-either-would-sign-no-convention '\' or-whom-no-treaty 7 and-no-signa 
 ture 7 could-bind \" and-who-were-the-determined-enemies 7 of human- 
 intercourse- itself r he decreed 7 to-make-the-country 7 possessed-by- 
 those-incorrigible 7 and-predestinated-criminals "^ a-memorable-example- 
 to-mankind— He-resolved \*in-the gloomy-recesses-of-a-mind 7capacious- 
 of-such-things "* to-leave-the-whole-Carnatic 7 an-everlasting-monument- 
 of- vengeance \* and-to-put-perpetual-desolation "^ as-a-barrier ^ between- 
 him \* and-those 7 against-whom 7 the faith 7 which-holds-the-moral- 
 elements-of-the-world-together ^ was-no-protection. 
 
 Mr. B. C. Bell very justly observes that perhaps the readiest mode of 
 acquiring a correct idea of rhetorical punctuation is, to consider every 
 cluster of words so connected as to admit of no separation, and con- 
 taining a distinct primary or modifying idea, only as one oratorical word. 
 These oratorical words must be separated from each other by pauses of 
 greater or less duration. 
 
 The division of sentences into oratorical words is equally necessary to 
 present a composition in intelligible groups to the ear of the auditor, 
 and to enable the speaker to replenish his lungs for the easy delivery of 
 the words. The necessities of respiration are thus combined with the 
 partial developments of sense, till the completion of the proposition or 
 of the period is made. They also give time — the most important 
 adjunct of effect in expression and action. 
 
 The only exception to this is when every word, or nearly every word, 
 in a clause or sentence is all-important or emphatic, and then the rare 
 use of what is called in music the staccato comes into the service also of 
 Elocution, as in the following passage : —
 
 lect. X.] ON elocution: 169 
 
 What' men' could' do', we've' done' already'. 
 
 Heaven' and' Earth' will' witness', 
 
 If Rome' must' fall', that' we' are' innocent 
 
 This staccato delivery, combined with an extreme degree of the rising 
 inflection, expresses in a very striking manner exclamatory or interroga- 
 tive surprise, as in the following illustrations :— 
 
 I' an' itching' palm ? 
 
 Gone' to' be' married' ? gone' to' swear' a peace ? 
 
 The most extreme increase of the voice, alike in range of inflection 
 as well as in modulation and power, takes place in those passages which 
 are characterised by what is called a climax. As the Greek word xX/,aa^, 
 whence we have taken the term, literally signifies " a ladder," on which, 
 of course, every step we mount takes us higher and higher, and pro- 
 portionately increases our range and vision, so we apply, metaphorically, 
 the word climax to passages where there is a regular increasing rhetorical 
 gradation of meaning. Each clause in a sentence characterised by 
 climax is in general delivered with an increase in the range of inflection, 
 modulation, and emphasis, as well as crescendo in regard to volume and 
 power of voice. We may take the following passages by way of 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Though all the world should crack their duty to you 
 And throw it from their souls ; though perils did 
 Abound as thick as thought could make them. 
 And appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty. 
 
 As doth a rock against the chiding flood. 
 Should the approach of this wild river break, 
 And stand unshaken yours. 
 
 2. This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
 Which serves it in the office of a wall, 
 Or as a moat defensive to a house 
 Against the envy of less happier lands ; 
 
 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, 
 This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings 
 Feared by their breed, and famous by their birth ; 
 This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land, 
 Dear for her reputation through the world, 
 Is now leased out (I die pronouncing it). 
 Like to a tenement, or pelting farm. 
 
 3. You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
 
 \nd bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
 You may as well use question with the wolf 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops and to make no noise
 
 I70 AVA^G'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. X. 
 
 When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ; 
 You may as well do anything most hard 
 As seek to soften that — than which what's harder ? — 
 His Jewish heart. 
 
 4. The quality of mercy is not strained : 
 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd ; 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes ; 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
 It is an aifribute to God Himself ; 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
 When mercy seasons justice. 
 
 5. I impeach Warren Hastings, Esq., of high crimes and mis- 
 demeanours. 
 
 I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, in 
 Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betrayed. 
 
 I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain, whose 
 national character he has dishonoured. 
 
 I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, 
 and liberties he has subverted, w-hose properties he has destroyed, 
 whose country he has laid waste and desolate. 
 
 I impeach him in the name, and by virtue, of those eternal laws of 
 justice which he has violated. 
 
 On the other hand, we meet with passages occasionally which, in 
 order to produce their best effect, require to be rendered in what is 
 sometimes called a monotone. 
 
 I need hardly say that in the speaking voice there is strictly no 
 unvaried repetition of the same note, and consequently in its exact 
 meaning the term monotone can scarcely be employed in elocution. 
 That which is usually denominated monotone is in fact an emphatic 
 prolongation of the contimiative tone in which the inflections are subdued 
 as much as possible. It has been well remarked that these subdned 
 inflections, judiciously introduced, especially on the lower notes of the 
 voice, in solemn and sublime passages as well as in prayer or supplica- 
 tion, serve to the reader or speaker the same end that the shades do 
 with which a skilful artist sometimes invests the principal objects in his 
 painting. 
 
 Illustrations foi- Practice. 
 
 I. Methought I heard a voice cry — "Sleep no more. 
 Macbeth doth murder sleep — the innocent sleep : 
 Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care,
 
 Lect. X.J ON ELOCUTION. 171 
 
 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, 
 Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, 
 Chief nourisher in Life's feast." 
 Still it cried " Sleep no more ! " to all the house : 
 " Glamis hath murdered Sleep, and therefore Cawdor 
 Shall sleep no more ! — Macbeth shall sleep no more ! " 
 
 2. Of all the youth in great Jerusalem 
 
 My fame stood fairest, and the honoured seats 
 Nearest the Ark in every synagogue 
 Were offered me of right. And yet I sinned 
 A sevenfold sin, corroding all the life 
 
 More deadly far than thine, defying cure 
 But for the mercy, wide and wonderful, 
 Of God our Father. 
 
 3. The sun is in the heavens, and the proud day, 
 Attended with the pleasures of the world, 
 
 Is all too wanton and too full of gawds 
 To give me audience : if the midnight bell 
 Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
 Sound on into the drowsy race of night ; 
 If this same were a churchyard where we stand. 
 And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ; 
 Or if that surly spirit, Melancholy, 
 Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy, thick 
 (Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, 
 Making that idiot, Laughter, keep men's eyes, 
 And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
 A passion hateful to my purposes), 
 Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes, 
 Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
 Without a tongue, using conceit alone, 
 ■ Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words. 
 Then, in despite of brooding, watchful day, 
 I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. 
 
 4. High on a throne of royal state, which far 
 Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
 
 172 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. X. 
 
 Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand 
 Showers, on her kings barbaric, pearl and gold, 
 Satan exalted sat. 
 
 5. In thoughts from the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth 
 upon men, fear came upon me and trembling, which made all my bones 
 to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face : the hair of my flesh 
 stood up : it stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an 
 image was before mine eyes : t here was silence, and I heard a voice 
 saying— Shall mortal man be more just than God? Shall a man be 
 more pure than his Maker ? 
 
 6. I conjure you, by the hearth profaned, by the home violated, by 
 the canons of the living God foully spurned, save, oh ! save your country 
 from the crime, your firesides from the contagion, and all mankind from 
 the shame, and sin, and sorrow of this example ! 
 
 The apparent monotone used on the words which are underlined will 
 add greatly tc the aw^e and solemnity designed to be conveyed.
 
 LECTURE XL 
 
 Compound inflections or Circumflexes — Tlieoryof tiieir Formation — Rising and Fallincr 
 Circumflexes — Their uses in suggesting Antithesis — Illustrations — Principles of 
 their Application where the Antithesis is expressed — Illustrations — ^Uses of the 
 Circumllexes in regard to Emotional Expression — Principles that govern their 
 Application — Illustrations — Analysis of the Range of the Inflections in the Musical 
 Scale — Results. 
 
 HAVE now to bring before your notice the last group of the 
 inflections, viz., the compound inflections or circumflexes, 
 as they are now generally termed. It is to Joshua Steele 
 that we are indebted for the first attempt at a scientific 
 analysis of these peculiar vocal waves, and a philosophical 
 investigation of the purposes which they serve in regard to the develop- 
 ment of the logical meaning of certain forms of sentences, as well as in 
 reference to emotional expression. 
 
 The extent and form of these compound inflections or circumflexes 
 are, as Steele justly remarked, very various in our language ; and two or 
 three-quarter tones more or less make little difference in the sense of 
 their application, though it will, of course, increase or diminish the 
 effect in degree. They are divisible into two distinct classes. The first 
 consists of a simple falling inflection, which, after descending to a note 
 more or less low in the musical scale, then, as it were, turns and slides 
 upward in the scale, and ends, in fact, with a rising inflection. The 
 name given by Steele to this peculiar inflection was the grave-acute, and 
 to exhibit different degrees of it he adopted this mode of notation. 
 
 ^ ^^> ,_/ '^ 
 
 Fig. 1 6. Grave-acute. 
 
 This is now called the rising circumflex. The other compound 
 inflection consists first of a simple rise of the voice to a note more or 
 less high in the musical scale, then turns and slides downward, ending 
 with a falling inflection. Steele termed it the acuto-grave inflection, and 
 represented its different degrees thus —
 
 174 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. 
 
 Fig. 17. Acuto-grave. 
 
 This is now generally called the falling circumflex. 
 
 In the formation of both the rising and the falling circumflexes the 
 following principle is to be observed : — The voice reaches the middle or 
 turfiifig point in the pronunciation of a single syllable ; but the termina- 
 tion may be prolonged through any number of subsequent unaccented 
 syllables. As you will see by the diagrams, the termination of a circum- 
 flex inflection may extend to the same pitch as the commencement, or 
 it may fall short of it, or extend beyond it ; but the intensity of the 
 expression will of course vary with the degree of range. 
 
 Now, then, let me endeavour, by the illustrations which I am about 
 to give, to make you acquainted with the sound of these various degrees 
 of rising and faUing circumflexes, and the principles which govern their 
 application. And the first use, and one of the most general uses, of a 
 circumflex inflection is to suggest an antithesis to the mind, without 
 openly expressing it in words. When we come to reflect upon it, is it 
 not a wonderful thing that a mere peculiar inflection or turn of the 
 voice should have the power of suggesting to the fnind whole trains of 
 ideas which are not embodied in language ? And yet such is the unques- 
 tionable effect of a circumflex. For instance, when I pronounce this 
 sentence with the circumflex inflections as here marked, and say — 
 
 " The labour of years is often insufficient for a complete reformation, 
 
 and Divine help is needed to keep us in the path of virtue." 
 
 Do I not, when I say " the labour of years " imply that it is not the 
 
 labour of iveeks or months 1 When I speak of " a complete reformation," 
 do I not suggest — not a partial reformation? When I assert that 
 
 " Divine help is needed," do I not lead you to infer that the help of man 
 
 is not sufficient ? And lastly, when I speak of Divine help being needed 
 
 to keep us in " the path of virtue," do I not imply that we can tread the 
 path of vice readily enough by ourselves ? Thus, then, you see, in this 
 simple sentence we have had four distinct ideas suggested to our minds 
 by these four circumflexes being used on the words marked with the 
 sign of that peculiar inflection. 
 
 These circumflexes, like the other inflections, may, as regards their 
 uses, be classified in two divisions, viz., (i) those which serve certain 
 purposes in the logical expression of the meaning implied or expressed 
 of certain forms of sentences, and (2) those which aid in emotional 
 expression. Let us take these, then, in their due order ; and, as 
 regards the former division, I should give the following as 
 
 Rule 1. — When any word is introduced which suggests an antithesis 
 without openly expressing it, such word should have emphatic force,
 
 Lect. XL] ON ELOCUTION. I75 
 
 and be pronounced with a circumflex inflection. An affirmative or 
 positive clause takes a falling, and a negative or contingent clause a 
 rising circumflex on the words suggesting an antithesis. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous, 
 Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls 
 That welcome wrongs : unto bad causes swear 
 Such creatures as men doubt. 
 
 2. You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life 
 
 That should be in- a Roman, you do want, 
 Or else you use not. 
 
 3. Why so can I ! 
 
 So every bondman in his own hand bears 
 The power to cancel his captivity. 
 
 4. I am debating of my present store, 
 And by the near guess of my memory 
 
 I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
 Of full three thousand ducats. 
 
 5. Never fear that ; if he be so resolved, 
 
 I can o'er sway him ; for he loves to hear 
 That unicorns may be betrayed with trees, 
 Lions with toils, and men with flatterers ; 
 
 But when I tell him he hates flatterers, 
 
 He says he does, being then most flattered. 
 
 6. But were I Brutus, 
 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony, 
 Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 In every wound of Caesar that should move 
 
 The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 
 
 7. You say you are a better soldier ; 
 
 Let it appear so : make your vaunting true 
 And it shall please me well. For mine own part 
 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 8. Remember thee ? 
 
 Ay ! thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat 
 
 In this distracted globe. Remember thee ?
 
 l^t KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [I,ECT. XI. 
 
 Yea, from the table of my memory, 
 
 I'll wipe away all trivial fond record, 
 
 All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, 
 
 And thy commandment all alone shall live 
 Within the book and volume of my brain. 
 Unmixed with baser matter. 
 
 9. Believe me, noble lord, 
 
 I am a stranger here in Glo'stershire. 
 
 These high, wild hills, and rough, uneven ways 
 
 Draw out our miles and make them wearisome ; 
 
 And I bethink me what a weary way 
 
 From Ravensburg to Cotswold will be found 
 
 In Ross and Willoughby wanting your company, 
 
 Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd 
 The tediousness and process of my travel. 
 
 10. The mercy that was quick in us but late. 
 
 By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd. 
 
 You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy ; 
 
 For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, 
 As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. 
 
 11. Gentlemen, the time has now arrived when you have to perform 
 your part in this great trial. You are now to pronounce upon a publi- 
 cation, the truth of which is not controverted. The case is with you ; 
 it belongs to you exclusively to decide it. His Lordship cannot control 
 
 your decision ; and it belongs to you alone to say, whether or not, upon 
 the entire matter, you conceive it evidence of guilt, or deserving of 
 punishment. 
 
 12. Justice is not a halt and miserable object ; it is not the ineffective 
 bauble of an Indian Pagod : it is not the portentous phantom of despair; 
 it is not like any fabled monster formed in the eclipse of reason and 
 found in some unhallowed grove of superstitious darkness and political 
 dismay. No, my Lords, Justice resembles none of these ! 
 
 Rule II. — When words or clauses are antithetic in meaning, and 
 emphatic in character, the falling circumflex inflection should be used 
 on the positive or absolute member, and the rising on the negative or 
 relative.
 
 lect. XL] ON- elocution: 177 
 
 Illustrations for Pi act ice. 
 
 1. Seems, Madam ! nay, it is ; I know not seems. 
 
 Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, 
 Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
 Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, 
 No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
 Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage. 
 Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief. 
 
 That can denote me truly. These, indeed, seem ; 
 
 For they are actions that a man might play : 
 
 But I have that within which passeth show. 
 
 These but the trappings and the suits of woe. 
 
 2. It must be by his death, and for my part, 
 
 I know no personal cause to spurn at him. 
 
 But for the general. He would be crown'd — 
 
 How that might change his nature, there's the question : 
 
 It is the bright day that brings forth the adder 
 
 And that craves wary walking. 
 
 3. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, 
 
 To cut the head off, and then hack the limbs. 
 Like wrath in death, and envy afterwards ; 
 
 For Antony is but a limb of Caesar. 
 
 Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius, 
 
 We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar ; 
 
 And in the spirit of man there is no blood : 
 O that we then could come by Caesar's spirit 
 
 And not dismember Csesar ; but alas ! 
 Caesar must bleed for it. — And gentle friends, 
 
 Let's kill him boldly — but not wrathfuUy 3 
 
 Let's carve him as a dish fit for the Gods, 
 
 Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds. 
 
 4. Cowards die many times before their death, 
 
 The valiant never taste of death but once : 
 Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
 
 It seems to me most strange that men should fear, 
 
 Seeing that death, a necessary end, 
 Will come, when it will come.
 
 178 K'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. 
 
 5. O Father Cardinal, I have heard you say 
 
 That we shall see and know our friends in Heaven : 
 
 If this be true, I shall see my .boy again. 
 
 For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, 
 
 To him that did but yesterday suspire, 
 
 There was not such a gracious creature born ; 
 
 But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, 
 
 • And chase the native beauty from his cheek, 
 
 And so he'll die : and, rising so again. 
 When I shall meet him in the Court of Heaven 
 
 I shall not know him ; therefore, never, never 
 Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. 
 
 6. Thou sayest that I have many years to live. 
 But not a minute. King, that thou canst give . 
 Shorten my days, thou canst with sullen sorrow, 
 And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow. 
 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, 
 
 But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage : 
 Thy word is current with him for my death, 
 But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 
 
 7. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour, 
 
 You urged me as a judge : but I had rather 
 
 You would have bid me argue like a father. 
 
 Oh, had it been a stranger, not my child, 
 
 To smooth his fault, I should have been more mild. 
 
 A partial slander sought I to avoid. 
 
 And in the sentence my own life destroyed. 
 
 8. All places that the eye of Heaven visits 
 
 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. 
 Teach thy necessity to reason thus : 
 There is no virtue like necessity : 
 
 Think not the King did banish thee. 
 
 But thou the King : woe doth the heavier sit, 
 Where it perceives it is but faintly borne ; 
 
 Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour. 
 
 And not the King exiled thee : or suppose
 
 Lect. XI.] ON ELOCUTION. 179 
 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 
 
 And thou art flying to a fresher clime : 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 
 To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou coia'st ; 
 
 Suppose the singing birds, musicians, 
 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd, 
 
 The flowers, fair ladies, and thy steps, no more 
 
 Than a delightful measure or a dance ; 
 
 For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
 
 The man that mocks at it and sets it light. 
 
 9. My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time. 
 
 And makes as healthful music. It is not madness 
 That I have uttered : bring me to the test, 
 
 And I the matter will re-word, which madness 
 Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, 
 Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, 
 
 That not your trespass but my madness speaks. 
 It will but skin and film the ulcerous place. 
 Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, 
 Infects unseen, 
 
 10. It is not night when I do see your iace. 
 Therefore I think I am not in the night ; 
 Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, 
 For you, in my respect, are all the world. 
 Then how can it be said I am alone, 
 When all the world is here to look on me ? 
 
 II. True liberal charity is wisely divided amongst man}', and propor- 
 tioned to the objects upon which it rests. It is not, it cannot be, con- 
 fined to near relations, intimate friends, or particular favourites. These 
 
 it will never neglect ; nay, to these its first attentions are naturally 
 directed. But whatever may be its partialities to those immediately 
 
 connected with us, or who love and resemble us, it cannot remain under 
 these restrictions. The principle which gave it birth extends its influence 
 in every possible direction. The objects which solicit the friendly aid 
 
 of charity are many and various. Here we find the afSicted body, — 
 
 there the grieved mind. Here tx. mourning desolate widow, — there ^q%- 
 
 titute orphans. — Perhaps both together sitting in silent dejection, or
 
 iSo KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. 
 
 agitated with all the violence of grief. At one time we hear the 
 plaintive voice of the solitary mourner — at another, the united cries of 
 a numerous starving family. Turn to the one hand, and feeble totter- 
 ing age requests support — turn to the other hand, and the deserted 
 
 infant, or neglected youth, requires a kind interposition. These, and 
 many similar cases of urgent necessity, claim the attention and care of 
 the compassionate and generous. 
 
 12. The true Christian spirit of moderation, of charity, of universal 
 
 benevolence, has prevailed in the people, has prevailed in the clergy of 
 
 all ranks and degrees, instead of those narrow principles, those bigoted 
 
 passions, that furious, that implacable, that ignorant zeal, which had 
 often done so much hurt both to the church and the state. But from 
 the ill-understood, insignificant act of parhament you are now moved to 
 
 repeal, occasion has been taken to deprive us of this inestimable advan- 
 tage. It is a pretence to disturb the peace of the church, to infuse idle 
 
 fears into the minds of the people, and make religion itself an engine of 
 sedition. It behoves the piety, as well as the wisdom of parUament, to 
 disappoint those endeavours. Sir, the very worst mischief that can be 
 done to religion, is to pervert it to the purposes of faction. The most 
 impious wars ever made were those called holy wars. He who hates 
 another man for not being a Christian, is himself not a Christian. Chris- 
 tianity, sir, breathes love, and peace, and goodwill to man. 
 
 I now proceed to notice the principal uses of the circumflex in regard, 
 to Emotional Expression. I said in the earlier part of this Lecture that 
 it seemed to me very marvellous that a mere compound of two opposite 
 slides of the voice in the musical scale (such as the circumflex inflections 
 are) should have the power of suggesting ideas to the mind without such 
 ideas being embodied in language. Not less wonderful does it seem to 
 me that another kind of circumflex should have the power of completely 
 conveying to the mind of the hearer the very opposite of what the words 
 literally signify. And yet such it must be admitted is the case, for if I 
 use what is termed a prolonged emphatic circumflex, pitching the voice 
 in certain keys on whatsoever words I employ such inflection, I in- 
 stantly make them ironical, that is, of course, I convey to the hearer 
 that I really mean the very opposite of what the words in their gramma- 
 tical sense import : as, for instance, when I say — '* Oh yes, he is a man 
 of honour indeed. His words and deeds show it. He would be a gain 
 to our society." — No one, I should think, would like a witness to his 
 good character to testify to it using these inflections, for the most 
 uncultivated would at once perceive that the speaker really meant the 
 very opposite of what he said.
 
 Lect. XL] ON ELOCUTION. i8i 
 
 When this peculiar inflection, to which the name of the prolonged 
 emphatic circumflex has been given, is analysed, it is found to consist 
 of the ordinary compound fall, finishing with a rising inflection, the 
 voice reaching the second turning point in the pronunciation of the 
 accented syllable or word. It is sometimes spoken of as the Rising 
 Double Wave, and is certainly one of the most expressive of the inflec- 
 tions. For its use I should give this as 
 
 Rule I. — Whenever it is designed to make any passage ironical, an 
 emphatic prolonged circumflex inflection should be given to the words 
 in which the irony is meant to be conveyed. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. You, my lords, and fathers 
 
 (As you are pleased to call yourselves), of Venice, 
 
 If you sit here to guide the course of Justice ; 
 
 Why these disgraceful chains upon the limbs 
 
 That have so often laboured in your service ? 
 
 Are these the wreaths of triumph you bestow 
 
 On those who brought you conquest, home, and honours ? 
 
 Are these the trophies I have deserved for fighting 
 
 Your battles with confederated powers ? 
 
 2. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny, 
 
 They that have done this deed are honourable. 
 What private griefs they have, alas ! I know not 
 That made them do it : they are wise and honourable 
 And will no doubt with reason answer you. 
 
 .•^. Lie there ! possess the land thy valour gains, 
 And measure at thy length our Latian plains : 
 Such rich-deserved rewards I still bestow. 
 When called in battle, on the vaunting foe : 
 Thus may you build your town, and thus enjoy 
 These realms, ye proud, contemptuous sons of Troy ! 
 
 4. Satan beheld their plight, 
 
 And to his mates thus in derision called : — 
 " O friends ! why come not on those victors proud ? 
 Erewhile they fierce were coming ; and when we — 
 To entertain them fair with open front 
 And breast (what could we more ?) — propounded terms 
 Of composition, straight they changed their minds. 
 Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell 
 As they would dance : yet, for a dance, they seemed
 
 lS2 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. 
 
 Somewhat extravagant and wild — perhaps 
 For joy of offered peace : but, I suppose, 
 If our proposals once again were heard, 
 We should compel them to a quick result." 
 
 5. This is some honest fellow 
 
 Who having been praised for bluntness, doth affect 
 
 A saucy roughness and constrains the garb 
 
 Quite from his nature. He can't flatter, he 
 
 An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth, 
 
 An they will take it so ; if not he's plain. 
 
 These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness 
 
 Harbour more craft and more corrupted ends 
 
 Than twenty silly ducking servitors 
 
 That stretch their duties nicely. 
 
 6. Say, that she rail ; why then I'll tell her plain 
 She sings as sweetly as a nightingale ; 
 
 Say, that she frown ; I'll say she looks as clear 
 As morning roses newly washed with dew ; 
 Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word, 
 Then I'll commend her volubility. 
 And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. 
 
 7. Good, my Lord, 
 
 You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory 
 
 Of your best graces in your mind, the which ♦ 
 
 You were now running o'er ; you have scarce time 
 
 To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span, 
 
 To keep your earthly audit ; sure in that 
 
 I deem you an ill husband, and am glad 
 
 To have you therein my companion. 
 
 8. Fairly answered, 
 
 A loyal and obedient subject is 
 Therein illustrated ; the honour of it 
 Does pay the act of it, as i' th' contrary, 
 The foulness is the punishment. — 
 Take notice, Lords, he has a loyal breast 
 For you have see him open't. 
 
 9. The trade of medicine's easiest of all : 
 'Tis but to study all things — everywhere — 
 Nature and man — the great world and the small — 
 Then leave them at haphazard still to fare. 
 
 It is, you see, plainly impossible 
 
 That one man should be skilled in every science.
 
 Lect. XL] ON ELOCUTION. 183 
 
 Who learns the little that he can, does well : 
 
 The secret of this art is self-reliance. 
 
 A man can learn but what he can ; 
 
 Who hits the moment is the man. 
 
 You are well made j have common sense, 
 
 And do not want for impudence ; 
 
 Be fearless, others will confide no less, 
 
 When you are confident of your success ; 
 
 The only obstacle is indecision ; 
 
 But, above all, win to yourself the women — 
 
 They have their thousand weaknesses and aches, 
 
 And the one cure for them is the Physician. 
 
 A due consideration for the sex 
 
 Will teach the value of decorous seeming ; 
 
 Let but appearances be unsuspicious 
 
 And they are everything their Doctor wishes. 
 
 10. Sweet pastime this ! most charming occupation ! 
 Delight indeed ! yes. transcendental rapture ! 
 In night and dew lying among the hills, 
 In ecstasy embracing earth and heaven, 
 To swell up till you are a kind of god — 
 To pierce into the marrow of the earth 
 In a god's fancies — all the six days' task 
 Of the creation in thy breast to feel — 
 And in the pride of conscious power enjoy 
 I know not what of bliss, — to cherish love 
 That has no limits, but must overflow 
 Till it loves everything that is, till earth 
 And man's poor nature, in the trance forgotten. 
 Has passed away, and then the glorious hour 
 Of intuition ending — how it ends 
 I must not say. 
 
 11. And it came to pass at noon that Elijah mocked them, and said, ' 
 Cry aloud : for he is a God : either he is talking, or he is pursuing, or 
 he is on a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth and must be awaked. 
 
 12. Thy integrity got thee absolved; thy modesty drew thee out of 
 danger ; and the innocency of thy past life saved thee ; for you meant 
 no harm : oh, no : your thoughts are innocent ; you have nothing to 
 hide ; your breast is pure, stainless, all truth. 
 
 Rule II. — All passages that express scorn, contempt, or reproach, 
 take emphatic prolonged circumflexes on the principal words, the keys
 
 l84 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XT. 
 
 in which the voice is pitched varying according to the dominant 
 emotion.* 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. "What ! shall one of us 
 
 That struck the foremost man in all this world, 
 But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honours 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
 I had rather be a dog and bay the moon 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 2. You say you are a better soldier ; 
 
 Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
 And it shall please me well : For mine own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 3. You have done that you should be sorry for. 
 There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; 
 For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
 That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
 Which I respect not. I did send to you 
 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; — 
 
 For I can raise no money by vile means : 
 
 By Heaven, I had rather coin my heart, 
 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash 
 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 
 To you for gold to pay my legions. 
 
 Which you denied me : was that done like Cassius ? 
 
 Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. 
 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
 
 Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts. 
 
 Dash him to pieces ! 
 
 4. Wherefore rejoice ? that Caesar comes in triumph ! 
 What conquest brings he home ? 
 
 What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
 To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels ? 
 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things ! 
 Oh, you hard hearts ! you cruel men of Rome ! 
 Knew you not Pompey ? many a time and oft 
 Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, 
 To towers and windows, yea to chimney-tops, 
 Your infants in your arms, and there have sat 
 The livelong day with patient expectation. 
 To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome ; 
 * See Lecture on the Modulation of the Voice.
 
 Lect. XL] ON EL CUT/ON. 185 
 
 And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
 Have you not made a universal shout, 
 That Tiber trembled underneath his banks 
 To hear the replication of your sounds 
 Made in his concave shores ? 
 And do you now put on your best attire ? 
 And do you now cull out a holiday ? 
 And do you now strew flowers in his way 
 That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ? 
 
 Begone 
 
 Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 
 Pray to the gods to intermit the plagues 
 That needs must light on this ingratitude. 
 
 5. All this ? ay, more : Fret till your proud heart break ; 
 Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? 
 Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
 Under your testy humour? By the gods, 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
 I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
 When you are waspish. 
 
 6. Thou Jafifier ! thou, my once lov'd, valu'd friend ! 
 By heav'n thou li'st ; the man so call'd my friend, 
 Was generous, honest, faithful, just, and valiant ; 
 Noble in his mind, and in his person lovely ; 
 Dear to my eyes, and tender to my heart : 
 
 But thou, a wretched, base, false, worthless coward, 
 Poor even in soul, and loathsome in thy aspect ; 
 All eyes must shun thee, and all hearts detest thee. 
 Prithee avoid, nor longer cling thus round me, 
 Like something baneful, that my nature's chill'd at. 
 
 7. Life ! ask my life ! confess ! record myself 
 A villain for the privilege to breathe, 
 And carry up and down this cursed city 
 
 A discontented and repining spirit, 
 
 Burthensome to itself, a few years longer, 
 
 To lose it, may be, at last, in a lewd quarrel 
 
 For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art ? 
 
 No, this vile world and I have long been jangling 
 
 And cannot part on better terms than now ; 
 
 When only men like thee are fit to live in't. 
 
 8. I was born free as Csesar ; so were you : 
 We both have fed as well ; and we can both 
 Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
 
 i86 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI. 
 
 For once, upon a raw and gusty day, 
 
 The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, 
 
 Caesar said to me, " Barest thou, Cassius, now 
 
 Leap in with me into this angry flood, 
 
 And swim to yonder point ?" — Upon the word, 
 
 Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, 
 
 And bade him follow : so indeed he did. 
 
 The torrent roared, and we did buffet it 
 
 With lusty sinews ; throwing it aside, 
 
 And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 
 
 But ere we could arrive the point proposed. 
 
 Cgesar cried, " Help me, Cassius, or I sink." 
 
 I, as /Eneas, our great ancestor, 
 
 Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
 
 The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber, 
 
 Did I the tired Csesar ; and this man 
 
 Is now become a god ; and Cassius is 
 
 A wretched creature, and must bend his body 
 
 If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 
 
 He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
 
 And, when the fit was on him, I did mark 
 
 How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake ; 
 
 His coward lips did from their colour fly ; 
 
 And that same eye, whose bend does awe the world 
 
 Did lose its lustre : I did hear him groan : 
 
 Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
 
 Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 
 
 Alas ! it cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius," 
 
 As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
 
 A man of such a feeble temper should 
 
 So get the start of the majestic world, 
 
 And bear the palm alone. 
 
 9. Mock-king, I am the messenger of God, 
 His Norman Daniel ! Mene, Mene, Tekel ! 
 Is thy wrath Hell that I should spare to cry, 
 Yon heaven is wrath with thee ? Hear me again . 
 Our saints have moved the church that moves the world, 
 And all the Heavens, and very God, they heard : 
 They know King Edward's promise and thine — thine. 
 Now bide the doom of God. Hear it through me. 
 The realm for which thou art forsworn is cursed ; 
 The babe enwomb'd, and at the breast is cursed ; 
 The corpse thou 'whelmest with thine earth is cursed ; 
 The soul who fighteth on thy side is cursed ; 
 The seed thou sowest in thy field is cursed ] 
 The steer wherewith thou plow'st thy fields is cursed ; 
 The fowl that flieth o'er thy field is cursed ; 
 And all for thee — for thee, usurper, liar !
 
 Lect. XL] ON ELOCUTION. 1S7 
 
 10. Poor child of earth ! and could'st thou then have borne 
 Thy Hfe till now without my aid ? 'Twas I 
 That saved thee from imaginations idle ; 
 I guarded thee with long and anxious care ; 
 And but for me even now thou would'st have been 
 Idling in other worlds ! Why sittest thou there, 
 Lingering in hollow cave or sifted rock, 
 Dull as the moping owl ? Why, like the toad, 
 Dost thou support a useless life, deriving 
 Subsistence from damp moss and dripping stone ? 
 
 11, Do you think to frighten me? you! Do you think to turn me 
 from any purpose that I have, or any course I am resolved upon, by 
 reminding me of the solitude of this place and there being no help 
 near? Me, who am here alone designedly? If I had feared you, 
 should I not have avoided you ? If I feared you, should I be here in 
 the dead of night, telling you to your face what I am going to tell ? 
 But I tell you nothing until you go back to that chair — except this once 
 again. Do not dare to come near me — not a step nearer. I have 
 something lying here that is no love trinket ; and sooner than endure 
 your touch once more, I would use it on you — and you know it while I 
 speak — with less reluctance than I would on any other creeping thing 
 that lives. 
 
 12. As a private man, you are unworthy of my anger, beneath con- 
 tempt. In that capacity you have every claim to compassion that can 
 arise from misery and distress. The condition you are reduced to 
 would disarm a private enemy of his resentment, and leave no consola- 
 tion to the most vindictive spirit, but that such an object as you are 
 would disgrace the dignity of revenge. But in the relation you have 
 borne to this country, you have no title to indulgence ; and if I had 
 followed the dictates of my own opinion, I never should have allowed 
 you the respite of a moment. I should scorn to keep terms with a man 
 who preserves no measures with the public. Neither the abject submis- 
 sion of deserting his post in the hour of danger, nor even the sacred 
 shield of cowardice, should protect him. I would pursue him through 
 life, and try the last exertion of my abilities to preserve the perishable 
 infamy of his name, and make it immortal ! 
 
 I have now finished all that I have to say with regard to the general 
 principles that govern the application of the inflections of the voice to 
 reading and speaking, and I have only now to mention some points 
 that have reference to the several classes of the inflections. In regard 
 to a simple rising inflection, the beginning, relatively to the end, is low ; 
 of a simple falling inflection, it is relatively high. It is to be noticed, 
 too, that the inflection always begins on the accented syllable, which is 
 thus pitched, it may be raid, comparatively low for a rising, high for a 
 falling inflection ; and that the rise or fall is continued directly upward 
 or downward from the accented syllable through whatever number of 
 secondarily accented syllables may follow.
 
 iSS KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XT. 
 
 I have spoken in general terms of simple rising and falling inflections, 
 as well as of rising and falling compound inflections or circumflexes ; 
 but it must be always borne in mind that in proportion to the degree in 
 which the voice rises or falls in the musical scale, much of the logical 
 as well as the emotional expression of a sentence depends. The final 
 inflection of a clause or sentence, rising or falling through the interval 
 only of a semitone, is chiefly plaintive, and expresses melancholy, 
 dejection, and subdued grief or pathos. If the falling inflection descends 
 through the interval of a tone (or a musical second), it conveys simply 
 the logical completion of the meaning of a clause or sentence, but 
 without any passion or feeling being expressed ; if the inflection rises 
 through the interval of a tone, it merely shows that the logical meaning 
 of the clause or sentence is in progress of development, but conveys no 
 emotion. If the rising inflection is carried through the interval of a 
 tone and a half (or in music, a minor third), the inflection becomes 
 strongly plaintive, and characterises all pathetic appeals ; whilst, if the 
 inflection falls to the same extent, it marks all assertions with an air of 
 grief and lamentation. If the voice rises through an interval of two 
 tones (or a major third), it expresses strongly doubt, appeal, and inquiry, 
 and if it falls in the same degree it conveys strong assertion. When the 
 voice rises through the greater intervals of the musical fifth, or, still 
 more, the interval of the octave, it expresses earnest appeal, wonder, 
 amazement, and exclamation \ while if it falls through these intervals it 
 expresses the strongest conviction, command, reprehension, hate, and 
 all the sterner passions. A similar increase of meaning or emotion 
 characterises the extent to which the rising or falling circumflexes may 
 be carried in those cases where they are specially applicable. 
 
 Those students who may desire to study more fully the various points 
 of analogy existing between the music of song and the music of speech, 
 will find them very carefully and minutely considered and copiously 
 illustrated in ]\I. De Pradel's enlarged edition of the Abbe Thibout's 
 Action Oratoire, ou Ti-aite Thcorique et Pratique de la Declamation^ 
 pour la Chaire, pour le Barreau, et a V usage de tous ceux qui lisent en 
 Public, ou qui dell te?it tin dtscours quelconque, published in 1846.
 
 LECTURE XII. 
 
 I 
 
 Modulation of the Human Voice — Explanation of ilie term Modulation when used in 
 reference to Reading and Speaking — The views of Walker, Sheridan, and Bell — • 
 The Rev. G. Sandlands on a mode of developing the Sense of Modulation in 
 Speech — Illustrations of Different Keys in Modulation — General Rules for the 
 Modulation of the Voice. 
 
 AVING finished the subject of the Inflections of the Voice, I 
 have now to bring before your notice what is termed the 
 Modulation of the Voice, that is, a knowledge of the various 
 keys of the speaking voice in which those inflections are 
 pitched, and the principles on which, from time to time, 
 they are varied. 
 
 A person may use quite proper inflections in reading and speaking, 
 and yet, from keeping entirely to one key, or shifting from key to key 
 improperly, without any system or method, possibly resorting to high 
 keys when he should take low, or vice versa, may wholly fail to produce 
 the effect he would desire ; nay, it may be, the very opposite effect 
 would be the result. 
 
 Before I proceed further in the subject, let me guard you against a 
 mistake that is frequently made, and that is, confounding the terms 
 " high " and " low " in modulation of the voice, with " loud " and " soft " 
 as regards the variation of the voice in power. The distinction between 
 the two must be always borne in mind. Those who are acquainted 
 in the slightest degree with the rudiments of music, will know perfectly 
 well that the terms high and loud and iow and soft are by no means 
 necessarily connected together ; that we may sing a very high note in 
 the very softest manner {piatiissi/no), and sing a very low note with the 
 fullest power of the voice {fortissimo) ; just (to use Walker's illustration) 
 as a smart stroke on a bell produces exactly the same note as a slight 
 one, though it is considerably louder. Indeed, to make this matter quite 
 clear to those who are wholly unacquainted with music, I cannot do 
 better than resort again to another illustration given by Walker, who 
 says, that when we speak of a high key, we mean that which we 
 instinctively and naturally take when we wish to be heard at a distance, 
 as the same degree of force is more audible in a high than in a low 
 tone, from the acuteness of the former and the gravity of the latter ; 
 and that a low tone is that we naturally assume when we are speaking
 
 I90 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 to a person at a small distance, and wish not to be heard by others ; as 
 a low tone with the same force is less audible than a high one ; if, there- 
 fore, we raise our voice to the pitch we should naturally use if we were 
 calling to a person at a great distance, and at the same time exert so 
 small a degree of force as to be heard only by a person who is near us, 
 we shall have an example of a high note in a soft tone ; and, on the con- 
 trary, if we suppose ourselves speaking to a person at a small distance, 
 and wish to be heard by those who are at a greater, in this situation we 
 shall naturally sink the voice into a low note, and throw just as much 
 force or loudness into it as is necessary to make it audible to the persons 
 at a distance. This is exactly the manner in which actors speak the 
 speeches that are spoken aside. The low tone conveys the idea of 
 speaking to a person near us, and the loud tone enables us to convey 
 this idea to a distance. By this experiment we perceive that high and 
 loud, and soft and low, though most frequently associated, are essen- 
 tially distinct from each other. 
 
 Thomas Sheridan (the father of the great orator and statesman, the 
 Right Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, who doubtless owed much of 
 his fame and eminence to the thorough training in Elocution which he 
 received in early life) very truly observes, that if a speaker does not 
 know how to pitch his voice properly, he can never have the due 
 management of it, and his utterance will be painful to himself and 
 irksome to others ; and further, that it may be fairly said that every 
 speaker, who is not corrupted by bad habit, has at least three pitches 
 in his voice, the high, the low, and the middle pitch. The middle 
 pitch is that which is used in ordinary discourse, from which he either 
 rises or falls according as the matter of his discourse, or the emotions 
 of his mind, require. This middle pitch, therefore, is what ought 
 to be generally used, for two reasons — first, because the organs of the 
 voice are stronger, and more pliable in this pitch, from being most 
 frequently used ; and, secondly, because it is more easy to rise from 
 that pitch to high, or descend to low, with regular proportion. 
 
 Most persons, through want of skill and practice, when they read or 
 speak in public, fall into one or other of the extremes. Either through 
 timidity or diffidence they use the low pitch, in which they are scarcely, 
 or not at all, heard by those who are remotely placed, and even if heard, 
 it is with so much trouble to the listeners as soon to weary attention ; or 
 if speakers aim at avoiding this fault, they run into the high pitch, 
 which is productive of consequences equally bad. The organs of the 
 voice in this unusual pitch are soon wearied, and languor and hoarseness 
 ensue ; and as the reason for continuing it will be equally strong during 
 the whole discourse as for the first setting out in it, the speaker 
 must lose all the benefits which arise from variety of pitch, and (to use 
 Sheridan's own words) " fall into a disgusting monotony." 
 
 The prevalence of this practice arises from a common mistake in 
 those who speak for the first time in a large room and before a numerous 
 auditory. They conclude it to be impossible they should be heard in 
 their ordinary pitch of voice, and therefore change it to a higher. Thus 
 they confound two very distinct things, making high and low the same
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 191 
 
 with loud and soft. Loud and soft in speaking is equivalent to "C^t forte 
 and piano in music ; it only refers to the different degrees of volume 
 and power of voice used in the same key, whereas high and low imply a 
 change of key. A man may speak louder or softer in the same key ; 
 when he speaks higher or lower he changes his key. So that the 
 business of every one is to proportion the volume or loudness of voice 
 to the size of the room and the number of his auditory, but not 
 necessarily to alter the pitch. 
 
 It is evident that he who begins in this high pitch on a supposition 
 that he could not otherwise be heard, must for the very same reason 
 continue in that pitch throughout ; and they who set out under this 
 delusion are apt to continue in it all their lives, having but little chance 
 of being informed of their error. So that whenever they have to deliver 
 anything in public, they, of course, fall into that strained and unnatural 
 key ; and (says Sheridan) this error is nowhere more observable than in 
 the usual manner of reading divine service. May I ask if this remark 
 is less applicable now than it was when Sheridan wrote, more than a 
 hundred years ago ? 
 
 The volume of sound necessary to fill even a large room is much 
 smaller than is generally imagined ; and to the being well heard, and 
 clearly understood, a good and distinct articulation contributes far 
 more than mere power of voice. You may rest assured, that if a man 
 with a naturally weak voice be only possessed of this qualification, he 
 has infinite advantages over the loudest voice devoid of clearness of 
 articulation. He who delivers himself in a moderate pitch, whenever 
 the logical meaning of his subject, or its emotional expression, demands 
 that his voice should rise to a higher or sink to a lower key, does it 
 with ease and due proportion, and produces the effects which are to 
 be expected from such properly regulated change and agreeable 
 variety ; whilst he who takes a high pitch cannot rise upon occasions 
 without running into a discordant strain, nor sink with any rule ot 
 proportion to guide him. Those persons who, to avoid this, run into 
 the opposite extremes, and begin in too low a pitch, err indeed on the 
 safer side, but are equally distant from the point of truth. It is true 
 it is more easy to rise gradually and proportionately than to descend ; 
 but while they remain in that low key, it will appear equally unnatural 
 and more languid than the other, and they will be very apt throughout 
 their discourse to run chiefly into that key with which they first set out. 
 I think Sheridan well sums up the subject when he says the true, safe, 
 and sure rule is (unless upon some extraordinary occasions, such, for 
 instance, as some special form of exordium), always to begin in the 
 middle key of speech, and if that should not prove strong enough, it 
 should be developed and strengthened by practice, on right principles, 
 and by proper management of the breath, alike as regards the functions 
 of inspiration and expiration, so as to avoid all straining ; for he who 
 strains his voice will scarcely be able to articulate well. The office of 
 articulation (justly remarks Sheridan) is of a very delicate nature, and 
 requires that the organs which perform it should not be disturbed 
 or suffer any violence, which must always be the case when the voice is
 
 192 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 unnaturally forced. The golden rule for a speaker to observe, is never 
 to produce a greater volume of voice than he can afford without pain 
 to himself or any extraordinary effort. Whilst he does this, the other 
 organs of speech will be at liberty to discharge their several otfices with 
 ease, and he will always have his voice under proper control. But 
 whenever he trangresses these bounds, he gives up the reins, and has 
 no longer the management of his voice under his command ; and it will 
 ever be the safest way, too, to keep well within his compass rather than 
 at any time to go to its utmost limit, which is a dangerous experiment, 
 and never justifiable but upon giving utterance to some unusually 
 powerful emotion, upon some extraordinary occasion, demanding its 
 expression. 
 
 Sheridan closes his dissertation in regard to the modulation of the 
 voice with two rules : one for giving strength and power to the voice in 
 its ordinary pitch, the other for adjusting the proper loudness or 
 volume of voice proportioned to the size of the room and the number 
 of the auditory. His first rule, for giving volume and power to the 
 voice, is this : any one, who, through habit, has fallen into a weak 
 utterance, cannot hope suddenly to change it ; he must do it by degrees 
 and by constant practice. Let him therefore exercise himself daily in 
 reading, reciting, or speaking in the hearing of a friend, and this, too, 
 in a large room. At first his friend should be placed at such a distance 
 only as the speaker can easily reach and be audible and distinct in his 
 usual manner of speaking. Afterwards his friend should gradually 
 increase the distance, and the speaker will in the same manner increase 
 the volume of his voice ; for the method of increasing by degrees is 
 easy in this, as in everything else, when sudden transitions are 
 impracticable, and every new acquisition of power enables one the better 
 to go on to the next degree. 
 
 Sheridan's second rule for acquiring a proper degree of volume and 
 power of voice, proportioned to the size of the room and the number of 
 the audience, is this : let the speaker, after having looked round the 
 assembly, fix his eyes on that part of his auditory which is farthest 
 from him, and he will almost mechanically increase the volume of his 
 voice so that it may reach them. This is what we constantly practice 
 in common discourse, for we always proportion the loudness or softness 
 of voice according to the distance we are from the person to whom we 
 are speaking. But still the speaker must take care not to go beyond 
 the proper pitch of his voice in order to do this, but only to add 
 increased degrees of volume or loudness in proportion to the distance. 
 He therefore who sets out in a higher key than is natural or proper to 
 the occasion, the sentiment, or the emotion contained in the language 
 he is uttering, in order that he may be heard by the most distant, may 
 be justly said not to speak his speech, but to bawl it.* 
 
 Such, however, is the nature of the human voice, that to begin in 
 the extremes of high and low are not equally dangerous. The voice 
 naturally slides into a higher tone when we want to speak louder, but 
 not so easily into a lower tone when we would speak more softly. 
 
 * See Lecture V. in Sheridan's " Lectures on Elocution," 4th Edition, 1762.
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 193 
 
 Experience shows us that we can raise our voice at jjleasure to any 
 pitch it is capable of ; but the same experience tells us that it requires 
 infinite art and practice to bring the voice to a lower key when it is once 
 raised too high. It ought, therefore, to be a 'first principle with all public 
 readers and speakers, rather to begin under the common level of their 
 voice than above it. The attention of an auditory at the commence- 
 ment of a lecture or oration makes the softest accents of the speaker 
 audible, at the same time that it affords a happy occasion for intro- 
 ducing a variety of voice, without which every address must soon tire. A 
 repetition of the same subject a thousand times over is not more tire- 
 some to the understanding than a monotonous delivery of the most 
 varied subject to the ear. Poets, to produce variety, alter the structure 
 of their verse, and rather hazard uncouthness and discord than sameness. 
 Prose writers change the style, turn, and structure of their periods, and 
 sometimes throw in exclamations, and sometimes interrogations, to 
 rouse and keep alive the attention ; but all this art is entirely thrown 
 away, if the reader does not enter into the spirit of his author, and by a 
 similar kind of genius render even variety itself more various ; if he 
 does not, by an alteration in his voice, manner, tone, gesture, loudness, 
 softness, quickness, slowness, adopt every change of which the subject 
 is susceptible. 
 
 Every one, therefore, who would acquire variety of tone in public 
 reading or speaking, must avoid as the greatest evil a loud and vociferous 
 beginning ; and for that purpose it would be prudent in a reader or 
 speaker to adapt his voice as if only to be heard by the person who 
 is nearest to him ; if his voice has natural strength, and the subject 
 anything impassioned in it, a higher and louder tone will insensibly 
 steal on him ; and his greatest address must be directed to keeping 
 it within bounds. For this purpose it will be frequently necessary for 
 him to recall his voice, as it were, from the extremities of his auditory, 
 and direct it to those who are nearest to him. This it will be proper 
 to do almost at the beginning of every paragraph in reading, and at the 
 introduction of every part of the subject in discourse. Nothing will so 
 powerfully work on the voice, as supposing ourselves conversing at 
 different intervals with different parts of the audience. 
 
 Speaking broadly and generally, a change in the pitch of the inflec- 
 tions takes place, or, in other words, there is a transition of key in the 
 modulation of the speaking voice always required for the purpose of 
 marking the distinction between appeal or interrogations from their 
 responses, and general statements from inferences or corollaries. A 
 change in th$ key, too, always marks the introduction of passages which 
 are quotations ; and it is specially required to indicate the commence- 
 ment of a new subject or a new division of a subject, or any change in 
 the character of the speakers in a dialogue. A different key (a lower 
 one generally) is necessary whenever similes, metaphors, or other 
 figures of speech are introduced. Every change of passion, emotion, 
 or sentiment is always shown by a change to the appropriate key ; and 
 when we really feel such passion, emotion, or sentiment. Nature has 
 her own special keys for each, which she will not fail to make us employ
 
 194 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XI I. 
 
 rightly. Passages, too, that are parenthetic, explanatory, or subordi- 
 nate, should never be read in the same keys as those which are primary 
 or important. 
 
 Mr. Melville Bell, of • Edinburgh, speaking of what he terms 
 " Harmony of Modulation," observes (I think, very sensibly) that " a 
 harmcmy of modulation must prevail in the reading of parts that are 
 syntactically co/mected, especially when they are separated in composition 
 by intervening clauses or sentences. The subjective and predicative 
 clauses should always stand out in correspotident modulation from the 
 circumstantial passages by which they are frequently separated and 
 broken up. These interpolating clauses will generally be pronounced 
 in a lower key of modulation than the principal clauses of a sentence ; 
 but they may require a higher key : whatever their relative modulation, 
 it must always be distinctive from that of the subject and predicate." 
 
 The authors who have written on this subject during the last hundred 
 years have, in general, taken five keys as representing the range of the 
 speaking voice in its modulation, which they have represented as rising 
 from the lowest key to the highest, in the following manner : — 
 
 5 Highest key. 
 
 4 Higher key. 
 
 3 Middle key. 
 
 2 Lower key. 
 
 I Lowest key. 
 
 The middle key (marked 3) is the one that is most frequently 
 employed. It is the key of our ordinary conversation, when no par- 
 ticular emotion or feeling governs our minds ; and the other keys are 
 not absolutely fixed, but considered only as relative to this middle key. 
 When we become animated, earnest, or energetic in our speaking or 
 reading, the voice usually ascends to a higher key, and in all the 
 strongest manifestations of what we may term the exciting passions and 
 emotions, such as courage, defiance, triumph, joy, &c. (as opposed to 
 the depressing, such as sorrow, awe, dread, &c., which express them- 
 selves in the lower keys), the voice ascends in general to the highest 
 keys. The lower key is usually employed to vary the uniformity of the 
 middle key, and is the one in which parenthetic, subordinate, and 
 explanatory passages are usually read or spoken. The lowest key of 
 all is chiefly employed in passages characterised by extreme solemnity 
 or awe. 
 
 In a very useful little work by the Rev. J. P. Sandlands, entitled 
 " The Voice and Public Speaking," * which contains some excellent 
 hints on the management of the vocal and speech organs, he advises 
 that for the purpose of training the ear, as well as the voice, to pass 
 readily from what he terms one "key-tone" to another, it may often be 
 desirable for the student to have recourse to the aid afforded by a piano. 
 Mr. Sandlands says : — "The power of acquiring the key-tone and that 
 of modulation, passing from one key-tone to another, enter very largely 
 * Hodder & Stoughton, Paternoster Row. Price 3s.
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 195 
 
 into the cultivation of the speaking voice. There are ihree principal 
 key-tones. These are the high, low, and middle key-tones. Between 
 these tones, as well as above and below them, there is a great variety. 
 The speaker should be able to fall on any tone the moment he has it 
 in his mind, and he should also be able to pass easily from any one 
 to any other. Now it is a matter of experience that the voice, when 
 not under control, will readily pass from a low note to a high one. 
 The contrary can only be accomplished by a cultivated voice. It is a 
 very common occurrence for a speaker to rise higher and higher as he 
 proceeds, especially if he warms to his subject, till he finds himself 
 exhausted with the effort of speaking. He does not know what is 
 wrong. He stops, takes a little water, begins again, and finds himself 
 in the same predicament. It is unpleasant and very fatiguing. The 
 truth is, his voice is not under control. It runs away with him. It 
 is just as if he were riding an unbroken steed that will not brook bit 
 and curb. What is to be done is obvious. He must break it in. 
 
 " And now for the process. It is somewhat difficult to describe, but 
 we shall, perhaps, be able to accomplish something. It may here be 
 remarked that the exercises help each other. They accomplish their 
 specific purpose and something more, so that if the exercises have been 
 faithfully and diligently practised, the work now will not be beyond our 
 power. 
 
 " If we can take a single word and pronounce it to any key-tone, and 
 with any degree of softness or loudness, we can do the same with a 
 sentence ; and if with a sentence, with a series also. Our object, then, 
 is simplified. We will practise on one word. 
 
 " In order to acquire the power of choosing our key-tone and changing 
 it at pleasure, we must give our ear a little training, as well as our 
 voice. A good exercise is this : — Sit down to the piano. Strike any 
 note within the compass of your voice. Take the hand off the piano 
 and let the sound die out. Then sing the note from memory. Strike 
 another note at any interval, so long as it is within the compass of 
 your voice, and sing it in the same manner. Continue the exercise 
 on different notes. Test yourself by striking the note while singing, 
 whether you are right. This exercise might be varied, and withal 
 rendered useful for other purposes by holding out the note as long as 
 possible. The object is twofold— to train the ear to appreciate the 
 difference between high and low notes, and also to acquire the facility 
 of passing from one key-tone to another. We must not forget to take 
 in the breath very deeply, and the mouth should be well open for the 
 open vowels that are sung. The exercise should be varied by singing 
 one syllable and now another. 
 
 "The syllable kah is a good one, as its tendency is to open the mouth. 
 Ska again, is a useful syllable, as by forcibly articulating the s and k 
 the ' clear shock of the glottis ' is produced. This exercise is nothing 
 unless it is gymnastic. It must be energetic. Gentle exercise, whatever 
 some may say, is, for our purpose, "of no use whatever. ... I do not 
 know a more useful exercise than this, and I earnestly advise the 
 student to practise it well.
 
 196 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 " When this exercise has been faithfully practised and considerable 
 progress made, the student may proceed with this one : — Take a list 
 of words with a full vowel sound, as, now, thou, plough ; fall, tall, 
 small ; tone, moan, cone ; toil, spoil, coil ; far, tar, car ; park, dark, 
 shark; boy, toy, coy ; fatne, name, shame, &c., &c., and repeat them 
 very slowly in succession. Do this as loudly as possible on the lowest 
 key-tone of your voice. Elongate the vowel sounds as much as you 
 can. Pay special attention to the consonants, and hit them, so to 
 speak, very smartly on the head. Don't be afraid. Exaggerate the 
 powers of the final consonants. Let each word stand out and apart 
 from the other. 
 
 " After practising on the lowest key-tone, take it on the highest, and 
 then on the middle. It will not be advisable to do more than these 
 three for some time ; but when the ear has befcome quite accustomed 
 to them, and the voice can take them up readily, the intermediate key- 
 tones, and the very highest and the very lowest, may be practised. 
 
 " ^^'ork this up well and effectively ; then take a single word — any 
 word will do^and put it through the key-tones. Modulation, which is 
 certainly one of the sweetest charms of oratory, as it is of music, will, 
 after this, become natural and comparatively easy. This is the chief 
 end to be gained by the exercises we have been describing. It cannot, 
 of course, be attained all at once. It comes as the result of practice. 
 It seems to me the greatest absurdity to talk of, and advise, the speaking 
 and reading of certain and certain pieces, in such and such key-tones, 
 until the voice can do it. Fit the voice, by training, for its work, and 
 it will naturally seek the work to do. j\Ir. Spurgeon, I think, it is who 
 compares a monotonous speaker to a drummer beating constantly on the 
 same part of his drum. He says, that just as the drummer soon wears 
 a hole though the drum-head, so the speaker very soon wearies his throat 
 with speaking. The comparison is so far just ; but only so far. It would 
 be possible for a speaker, with a trained voice, to speak for any length 
 of time, if he chose, on the same key-tone and feel no injury. He 
 would not do it, however ; for his voice would naturally seek variation 
 in the power of modulation which it had acquired. But the comparison 
 is true in another sense. The monotonous speaker very soon beats a 
 hole, if we may so say, through the drum of the ears of his audience. 
 This is a more serious matter. A dull, heavy, unvaried tone of voice 
 tells very soon and very unmistakably on an audience. It tires, wearies, 
 and disgusts an audience beyond measure. The remedy is here. It 
 is in the power of modulation. It is worth the while then, as it .is 
 within the reach of us, to set to in good earnest and acquire it. 
 
 " There is, however, another feature. Speakers often experience in 
 their discourses, as well written as extempore, that certain and certain 
 passages should be spoken in a different key-tone from certain and 
 certain others. They feel, at least, something like this. Now the fact 
 of having acquired the power of speaking in any key-tone at will, and 
 passing from one to another, will suggest the propriety of determining 
 the key-tone in which every passage, or part of a passage, should be 
 spoken. Hence it follows that no speaker or reader should ever think
 
 Lect. xil] on elocution. 197 
 
 of beginning to speak or read without determining his key-tone. The 
 character of that to which he is to give expression will determine this 
 for him. Speaking generally, solemn subjects will suggest low key-tones, 
 and less serious subjects higher key-tones. But here there is large 
 room for the exercise of discretion. The speaker will not, if he is wise, 
 as a rule, speak in public without having first well digested his matter 
 and determined its character. It is impossible to convey clearly to 
 others that which is hazy to ourselves. Clear ideas alone can be 
 intelligibly imparted. The reader is in a different position. I do not 
 say better. It is quite within his power to digest his matter and 
 determine his key-tones beforehand. This he should always make a 
 point of doing. It does not matter how simple the character of the 
 piece may be, this must never be omitted. I have little sympathy with 
 those who think they can do anything off-hand. If reading and 
 speaking are worth doing at all, they are worth doing well. To do 
 things well takes time and involves the preparation of matter and 
 manner. I do not, therefore, advise that these things should be done 
 with the least trouble possible, but with the most that can be given to 
 them. A reader therefore should, in my opinion, practise beforehand 
 that which he is going to give in public. He should go over it a 
 number of times with different tones, and be well satisfied that those 
 upon which he has fixed are the best. This involves, as is readily 
 seen, very much labour ; but unless we are disposed to bestow it, we 
 should be careful to consider whether we should not act more wisely 
 by ceasing to make an infliction upon our hearers. I hope I shall not 
 be considered harsh when I make these remarks, but rather be credited 
 with a desire of prompting ourselves to do our work in the best way 
 possible." * 
 
 Having now, I hope, said enough in regard to the theory of the 
 modulation of the speaking voice anS* the principles by which it is 
 governed to make the subject quite clear to you, I shall next give you a 
 summary of them in a i^w general rules, followed by illustrations for 
 practice. I shall endeavour to simplify this matter as much as possible 
 by using at first the following signs to indicate the various keys in which 
 the selected passages should be read, the inflections, of course, being 
 governed by the principles contained in the rules given in my three 
 preceding Lectures. 
 
 M. will stand for the middle key; H. for the higher, and HH. for 
 the highest keys ; while L. will signify the lower, and LL. the lowest 
 keys. As I did in the case of the inflections, I will take those rules in 
 modulation first in order which have reference to the expression of the 
 logical meaning of a sentence. 
 
 Rule I. — Clauses which are of a parenthetic nature, and important 
 in their character, should be read or spoken in a lower key in modu- 
 lation, and generally in slower time, than the other clauses of the 
 sentence. 
 
 * Sandlands on "The Voice and Public Speaking," pp. 1 19-129.
 
 I9» KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. (M) If, where these rules not far enough extend 
 
 (L) (Since rules were made but to promote their end), 
 (M) Some lucky license answer to the full 
 
 Th' intent proposed, that license is a rule. 
 
 2. (M) If there's a Power above us 
 
 (L) (And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
 
 Through all her works), (M) he must delight in virtue; 
 (H) And that which he delights in must be happy. 
 
 3. (M) For one end, one much-neglected use, 
 
 Are riches worth our care (L) (for nature's wants 
 
 Are few, and without opulence supplied); 
 (M) This noble end is to produce the soul ; 
 
 To show the virtues in the fairest light ; 
 (H) And make liumanity the minister 
 
 Of bounteous Providence. 
 
 4. (M) On a rock whose haughty brow 
 
 Frowns o'er old Conway's foamy flood ; 
 Rob'd in the sable garb of woe. 
 With haggard eyes the poet stood 
 (L) (Loose his beard, and hoary hair 
 
 Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air) ; 
 (M) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, 
 Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 
 
 5. (M) To Pandemonium t^e summons call'd 
 
 By place or choice the worthiest : they anon 
 With hundreds and with thousands trooping came 
 Attended : all access was throng'd ; the gates 
 And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall 
 (L) (Though like a cover'd field where champions bold 
 Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chair 
 Defied the best of Paynim chivalry 
 To mortal combat or career with lance), 
 (M) Thick swarm'd, both on the groifnd, and in the air 
 Brushed with the hiss of rustling wings. 
 
 6. (M) The bliss of man (L) (could pride that blessing find) 
 (M) Is, not to act or think beyond mankind. 
 
 /• 
 
 (M) Woe then apart, (L) ( if woe apart can be 
 
 From mortal man,) (M) and fortune at our nod, 
 
 The gay, rich, great, triumphant, and august, 
 
 What are they? The most happy, (L) (strange to say,] 
 
 (M) Convince me most of human misery.
 
 Lect. XII.] OJV ELOCUTION. 199 
 
 8. (AI) And now, 
 
 As though 'twere yesterday, as though it were 
 The hour just flown, that morn with all its sounds 
 
 (L) (For those old Mays had thrice the life of these^ 
 
 (M) Rings in mine ears. 
 
 9. (H) Lo ! they come, 
 
 The loathsome waters in their rage ! 
 
 And with their roar make wholesome nature dumb ! 
 
 The forest's trees (L) (coeval with the hour 
 
 When Paradise upsprung, 
 
 Ere Eve gave Adam knowledge for her dower, 
 
 Or Adam his first hymn of slavery sung), 
 (H) So massy, vast, yet green in their old age. 
 
 Are overtcpped, 
 
 Their sun-mer blossoms by the surges lopped, 
 
 Which rise, and rise, and rise. 
 
 Vainly we look up to the lowering skies 
 (L) (Alas ! they meet the seas !) 
 (H) They shut out God from our beseeching eyes. 
 
 I o. (M) Signors, >'Our pardon ; this is mockery. 
 
 Juggle n> more with that poor remnant which, 
 A momait since, while yet it had a soul 
 (L) (A soul ty whom you have increased your empire 
 And made your power as great as was his glory), 
 (M) You baiishd from his palace, and tore down 
 
 From hs high place with such relentless coldness ; 
 And new (L) (when he can neither know these honours, 
 Nor would accept them if he could), you, Signors, 
 (M) Purpos, with idle and superfluous pomps. 
 To m;ke a pageant over what you trampled. 
 
 1 1. (M) Thoufh religion removes not all the evils of life ; though it 
 promises no coninuance of undisturbed prosperity (L) (which indeed 
 it were not salutay for man always to enjoy), (M) yet if it mitigates the 
 evils which necesarily belong to our state, it may justly be said to give 
 rest to them wh< labour and are heavy laden. 
 
 12. (M) It 'ften happens that those are the best people whose 
 characters are nost injured by slanderers (L) (and who so great or good 
 that slander dires not assail ?), (M) as we usually find that to be the 
 sweetest fruit A'hich the birds have been pecking at. 
 
 Note. — Bit if the parenthetic clause be of a comparatively unim- 
 portant c'lar.icter, it may be given in a higher key and somewhat quicker 
 time. 
 
 (M) Pride, (H) in some particular disguise or other, (M) is the most 
 ordinay spring of human action."
 
 200 AVA'G'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 Rule II. — Antithetic portions of sentences should ahvays be marked 
 by the voice being modulated into an appropriate change of key, as well 
 as opposite inflections. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 J. " (M) Hereafter, in that world where all are pure, 
 We two may meet before high God, and thou 
 Wilt spring to me and claim me thine, and know 
 I am thine husband, (L) not a smaller soul, 
 Nor Lancelot, nor another." 
 
 2. O Happiness ! our being's end and aim ; 
 
 Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name : 
 That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, 
 For which we bear to live, or dare to die ; 
 Which still so near us, yet beyond U3 lies, 
 O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise. 
 Plant of celestial seed ! if dropt belov. 
 Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'sl to grow? 
 Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shine, 
 Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? 
 Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laarels yield. 
 Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field t 
 
 3. Where grows ? — where grows it not ? If vain our toil, 
 We ought to blame the culture, not th« soil ; 
 
 Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere, 
 
 'Tis nowhere to be found, or ev'rywhen \ 
 
 'Tis never to be bought, but always free, 
 
 And fled from monarchs, St. John ! dwells with thee. 
 
 4. Ask of the learned the way : the learn'd^re blind ; 
 This bids to serve, and that to shun mai^ind : 
 Some place the bliss in action, some in (^se, 
 Those call it Pleasure, and Contentmentlhcse : 
 Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end ii pain : 
 Some, swell'd to gods, confess e'en Virtue vain : 
 Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. 
 To trust in everything, or doubt of all. 
 
 5. But mutual wants this Happiness increase ;\ 
 All Nature's diffrence keeps all Nature's pei 
 Condition, circumstance, is not the thing ; 
 Bliss is the same in subject or in king ; \ 
 In who obtain defence, or who defend, \ 
 In him who is, or him who finds a friend, 
 Heav'n breathes through every member of the A'h^le 
 One common blessing as one common soul. 
 
 6. But Fortune's gifts if each alike possest. 
 And each were equal, must not all contest ?
 
 Lect. XII.] OiY ELOCUTIOaV. 
 
 If then to all men Happiness was meant, 
 God in externals could not place content. 
 Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, 
 And these be happy call'd, unhappy those : 
 But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear, 
 While those are plac'd in hope and these in fear : 
 Not present good or ill the joy or curse, 
 But future views of better, or of worse. 
 O sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise, 
 By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? 
 Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys. 
 And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 
 
 7. Discomfortable cousin, know'st thou not 
 
 That when the searching eye of Heaven is hid 
 
 Behind the globe that lights the lower world. 
 
 Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen. 
 
 In murders and in outrage bloody here ? 
 
 But when from under this terrestrial ball 
 
 He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines. 
 
 And darts his light through ev'ry guilty hole. 
 
 Then murders, treasons, and detested sins. 
 
 The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, 
 
 Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves. 
 
 S. Not all the water in the rough, rude sea 
 Can wash the balm from an anointed king ; 
 The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected by the Lord. 
 For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd 
 To lift sharp steel against our golden crown, 
 God for His Richard hath in heavenly pay 
 A glorious angel : then if angels fight, 
 Weak men must fall ; for Heaven still guards the right. 
 
 9. Whatever crazy sorrow saith. 
 
 No life that breathes with human breath 
 Hath ever truly long'd for death. 
 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, 
 Oh ! life, not death, for which we pant. 
 More life and fuller that we want. 
 
 10. But through the palm and plantain, hark, a voice! 
 Not such as would have been a lover's choice, 
 In such an hour to break the air so still ; 
 No dying night-breeze harping o'er the hill, 
 Striking the strings of nature, rock and tree. 
 Those best and earliest lyres of harmony, 
 With echo for their chorus ; but the alarm 
 Of the loud war-whoop to dispel the charm.
 
 202 A'/.VG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIT. 
 
 11. The proposition is peace. Not peace through the medium of war ; 
 not peace to be hunted through the labyrinth of intricate and endless 
 negotiations ; not peace to arise out of universal discord, fomented from 
 principle in all parts of the empire ; not peace to depend on the 
 juridical determination of perplexing questions, or the precise marking 
 of the shadowy boundaries of a complex government : it is simple peace ; 
 sought in its natural course, and in its ordinary haunts. It is peace ; 
 sought in the spirit of peace, and laid in principles purely pacific. I pro- 
 pose—by removing the ground of the difference, and by restoring the 
 former unsuspecting confidence of the colonies in the mother country — 
 to give permanent satisfaction to your people ; and (far from a scheme 
 of ruling by discord) to reconcile them to each other, in the same act, 
 and by the bond of the very same interest, which reconciles them to 
 British government. 
 
 1 2, Man was made after the image of God ; and the human form 
 divine, the seat of so many heavenly faculties, graces, and virtues, 
 exhibits a temple not unworthy of its Maker. Men, in their collective 
 capacity, and united as nations, have displayed a wide field of exertion 
 and of glory. The globe hath been covered with monuments of their 
 power, and the voice of history transmits their renown from one genera- 
 tion to another. But when we pass from the living world to the dead, 
 what a sad picture do we behold ! — the fall and desolation of human 
 nature, the ruins of man, the dust and ashes of many generations 
 scattered over the earth ! The high and the low, the mighty and the 
 mean, the king and the cottager, lie blended together, without any order ! 
 A few feet of earth contain the ashes of him who conquered the globe ; 
 the shadows of the long night stretch over all alike : the monarch of dis- 
 order, the great leveller of mankind, lays all on the bed of clay in equal 
 meanness ! In the course of time the land of desolation becomes still 
 more desolate ; the things that were, become as if they had never been. 
 Babylon is a ruin, her heroes are dust ; not a trace remains of the glory 
 that shone over the earth, and not a stone to tell where the master of 
 the world is laid ! 
 
 Rule III. — When in the course of a passage interrogation occurs, 
 followed by its answer, the clause in which such answer is contained, if 
 strictly subordinate to the question, is generally given in a lower key of 
 modulation. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. (M) What must the King do now? Must he submit? 
 (L) The King shall do it : (M) must he be deposed ? 
 (L) The King shall be contented : (M) must he lose 
 The name of King ? (L) why let it go. 
 
 2. Say is my Kingdom lost ? Why 'twas my care, 
 And what loss is it to be rid of care? 
 
 Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we ? 
 Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God,
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 203 
 
 We'll serve him too and be his fellow so. 
 Revolt our subjects ? That we cannot mend ; 
 They break their faith to God, as well as us. 
 
 3. Oh, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
 
 The sweetness of affiance ! Show men dutiful ? 
 Why so didst thou : or seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why so didst thou : come they of noble family ? 
 Why so didst thou : seem they religious ? 
 Why so didst thou : or ate they spare in diet, 
 Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger ; 
 Constant in spirit, nor swerving with the blood, 
 Garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment. 
 Not working with the ear, but with the eye, 
 And but in purged judgment trusting neither? 
 Such and so finely boulted didst thou seem. 
 
 4. What ! shall one of us 
 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world 
 But for supporting robbers ; shall we now, 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes. 
 And sell the mighty space of our large honours. 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
 I had rather be a dog and bay the moon, 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 5. Must I budge? 
 
 Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch . 
 Under your testy humour ? By the gods ! 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
 FU use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
 ^Vhen you are waspish. 
 
 6. Heavens ! And think'st thou, Coriolanus, 
 
 Will stoop to thee for safety ? No, my safeguard 
 
 Is in myself, a bosom void of fear. 
 
 It is an act of cowardice and baseness 
 
 To seize the very time my hands are fettered 
 
 By the strong chain of former obligation. 
 
 The safe, sure moment to insult me. 
 
 7. What would I more, proud Roman ? This, I would : 
 Fire the curs'd forest, where these Roman wolves 
 Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them, 
 Extirpate from the bosom of this land 
 
 A false, perfidious people, who, beneath 
 The mask of freedom, are a combination 
 Against the liberty of human kind — 
 The genuine seed of outlaws and of robbers.
 
 204 A^JNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 8. Life ? Ask my life ? Confess, record myself 
 A villain, for the privilege to breathe ? 
 
 And carry up and down this hated city 
 
 A discontented and repining spirit. 
 
 Burdensome to itself a few years longer, 
 
 To lose at last, it may be, in a base quarrel. 
 
 For some new friend, treacherous and false as thou art ? 
 
 No ; this vile world and I have long been jangling, 
 
 And cannot part on better terms than now, 
 
 When only men like thee are fit to live in't. 
 
 9. Hear me ! oh, hear me ! am I not 
 Thy worshipper, thy priest, thy servant ? 
 Yea all these I am. Have I not gazed 
 On thee both at thy rise and fall, 
 
 And bow'd my head beneath thy midday beams, 
 
 When my eye dared not meet thee ? 
 
 Have I not watch'd for thee, and after thee. 
 
 And pray'd to thee, and fear'd thee ? 
 
 Thou knowest I have. Have I not asked of thee, 
 
 And thou hast answered ? But 
 
 Only to thus much. While I speak he sinks — 
 
 And leaves his beauty, not his knowledge, 
 
 To the delighted West, which revels in 
 
 Its hues of dying glory. Yet what is 
 
 Death, so it be but glorious ? 'Tis a sunset ; 
 
 And mortals may be happy to resemble 
 
 The gods but in decay. 
 
 10. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death. 
 And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? 
 My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought, 
 And yet his punishment was bitter death. 
 Who sued to me for him ? Who, in my wrath, 
 Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised ? 
 Who spoke of brotherhood ? Who spoke of love ? 
 Who told me how the poor soul did forsake 
 
 The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? 
 ^Vho told me, in the field at Tewkesbury, 
 When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, 
 And said, " Dear brother, live and be a king"? 
 Who told me when we both lay in the field. 
 Frozen almost to death, how he did wrap me 
 Even in his garments, and did give himself 
 All thin and naked to the numb, cold night? 
 Not one. — Not one would beg his life. 
 All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
 Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you 
 Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
 
 Lect. XII.l ON ELOCUTION. 205 
 
 1 1. Are the oppressors and the oppressed so reconciled to each other 
 that no trace of enmity remains? Or, is it in reason, or in common 
 sense, to claim a prescriptive right, — not to the fruits of an ancient and 
 forgotten crime, committed long ago, and traceable in all its conse- 
 quences — but to a series of new violences — of fresh enormities, to 
 cruelties — continued — repeated ; and of which every individual instance 
 inflicted a fresh calamity, and constituted a fresh, a separate, and 
 substantive crime ? Certainly not ; — and I cannot conceive that, in 
 refusing to sanction the continuance of such a system, the House will 
 feel itself, in the smallest degree, impairing the respect due to the 
 establishments of antiquity, or shaking the foundations of the British 
 Constitution. 
 
 12. They tell us, sir, that we are weak— " unable to cope with so 
 formidable an adversary ! " But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be 
 the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when we are totally dis- 
 armed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? 
 Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? Shall we acquire 
 the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and 
 hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies have bound 
 us hand and foot .'' Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of 
 those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three 
 millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a 
 country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our 
 enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles 
 alone. There is a just Power who presides over the destinies of nations, 
 and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, 
 is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. 
 Besides, sir we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, 
 it is now too late to retire from the contest. 
 
 Note. — To this rule there is, however, an exception, for if the answer 
 contains some new matter of special importance to the general meaning 
 of the sentence, then such answer should be read in a higher key and 
 stronger tone. 
 
 (L) Must we but weep o'er days more blest? 
 (M) Must we but blush? (H) Our fathers bled ! 
 
 (H) Are they Hebrews? (L) So am I. (H) Are they Israelites? (L) 
 So am I. (H) Are they the seed of Abraham? (L) So am I. (H) Are 
 they ministers of Christ? (HH) I am more. 
 
 (H) Art thou poor? (HH) Show thyself active and industrious, peace- 
 able and contented. (H) Art thou wealthy ? (HH) Show thyself bene- 
 ficent and charitable, condescending and humane. 
 
 Rule IV, — The last general rule that I should give respecting 
 changes of key in regard to the full elucidation of the logical meaning 
 of a sentence is this, that the most important sentences, or clauses in a 
 sentence, are those which are given in the higher keys as well as the 
 louder tones of the voice.
 
 2o6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 I. (M) Thus far into the bowels of the land 
 
 Have we marched on without impediment. 
 (H) Richard, the bloody and devouring boar, 
 
 Whose ravenous appetite has spoiled your fields, 
 Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropped 
 Its ripened hopes of fair posterity, 
 (HH) Is now even in the centre of the isle. 
 
 Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just ; 
 (L) And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted ; 
 (LL) The very weight of Richard's guilt shall crush him — 
 (H) Then, let us on, my friends, and boldly face him ! 
 (M) In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man 
 
 As mild behaviour and humanity ; 
 (H) But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 (HH) Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment I 
 (L) For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
 
 Shall be— this body on the earth's cold face ; 
 (H) But, if we thrive, the glory of the action 
 
 The meanest soldier here shall share his part of. 
 (HH) Advance your standards, draw your willing swords, 
 Sound drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully ; 
 The words — " St. George, Richmond, and Victory 1 " 
 
 2. Son ! Methinks this high assembly might well 
 Have claimed thy presence. A great ruler's heir 
 Should be familiar in the people's eyes ; 
 
 Live on their tongues ; take root within their hearts ; 
 Win woman's smiles by honest courtesy. 
 And force man's tardier praise by bold desert ; 
 So, when the chief shall die, the general love 
 May hail his successor, 
 
 3. Add, that my boasted Schoolcraft 
 
 Was gained from such base toil ; — gained with such pain 
 
 That the nice nurture of the mind was oft 
 
 Stolen at the body's cost. I have gone dinnerless 
 
 And supperless (the scoff of our poor street, 
 
 For tattered vestments and lean hungry looks), 
 
 To pay the pedagogue. Add what thou wilt 
 
 Of injury. Say that, grown into man, 
 
 I've known the pittance of the hospital, 
 
 And, more degrading still, the patronage 
 
 Of the Colonna. Of the tallest trees 
 
 The roots delve deepest. Yes, I've trod thy halls. 
 
 Scorned and derided 'midst their ribald crew — 
 
 A licensed jester, save the cap and bells :
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 207 
 
 I have borne this — and I have borne the death, 
 
 The unavenged death, of a poor brother. 
 
 I seemed to be a base ignoble slave. 
 
 What am I ? — peace, I say ! — what am I now ? 
 
 Head of this great republic, chief of Rome — 
 
 In all but name, her sovereign ; last of all, 
 
 Thy father. 
 
 4. But this I will avow, that I have scorned, 
 And still do scorn, to hide my sense of wrong : 
 Who brands me on the forehead, breaks my sword, 
 Or lays the bloody scourge upon my back, 
 
 Can't wrong me half so much as he who shuts 
 
 The gates of honour on me — turning out 
 
 The Roman from his birthright ; and for what ? 
 
 To fling your offices to every slave — 
 
 Vipers that creep where man disdains to climb ; 
 
 And having wound their loathsome track to the top 
 
 Of this huge mouldering monument of Rome, 
 
 Hang hissing at the noble man below. 
 
 5. This is his answer ! Must I bring more proofs? 
 Fathers, you know there lives not one of us 
 But is in peril of his midnight sword. 
 
 Lists of proscription have been handed round. 
 In which your general properties are made 
 Your murderer's hire. Bring in the prisoners, 
 
 6. Fathers of Rome ! If man can be convinced 
 By proof as clear as daylight, there it stands ! 
 Those men have been arrested at the gates. 
 Bearing despatches to raise war in Gaul. 
 Look on these letters ! Here's a deep-laid plot 
 To wreck the province ; a solemn league. 
 Made with all form and circumstance. The time 
 
 Is desperate, all the slaves are up; — Rome shakes ! 
 
 Xhe heavens alone can tell how near our graves 
 We stand even here ! — The name of Catiline 
 Is foremost in the league. He was their king. — 
 Tried and convicted traitor, go from Rome ! 
 
 7. Heavens ! with what pride I used 
 
 To w'alk these hills, and look up to my God, 
 And think the land was free. Yes, it was free — 
 From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free — 
 Free as our torrents are that leap our rocks. 
 And plough our valleys without asking leave ; 
 Or as our peaks that wear their caps of snow 
 In very presence of the regal sun. 
 How happy was I then ! I loved
 
 208 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 Its very storms. Yes, I have often sat 
 
 In my boat at night, when midway o'er the lake — 
 
 The stars went out, and down the mountain-gorge 
 
 The wind came roaring. I have sat and eyed 
 
 The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
 
 To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head, 
 
 And think I had no master save his own. 
 
 — On the wild jutting cliff, o'ertaken oft 
 
 By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along ; 
 
 And while gust followed gust more furiously, 
 
 As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink. 
 
 Then I have thought of other lands, whose storms 
 
 Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 
 
 Have wished me there ; — the thought that mine was free 
 
 Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head. 
 
 And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, 
 
 " Blow on ! This is the land of liberty ! " 
 
 8. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more : 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man 
 As modest stillness and humility : 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage ; 
 Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head, 
 Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it, 
 As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
 O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
 Swilled with the wild and wasteful oceaa — 
 Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide. 
 Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit 
 To its full height ! Now on ! you noblest English, 
 Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-prOof; 
 Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
 And sheathed their swords for lack of argument ! 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips. 
 Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot ; 
 Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge, 
 Cry, Heaven for Harry, England, and St. George ! 
 
 9. Worst in this royal presence may I speak, 
 Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
 I would that any in this noble presence 
 Were enough noble to be upright judge 
 Of noble Richard ; then true nobleness would
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 209 
 
 Teach him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
 
 What subject can give sentence on a king ? 
 
 And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject ? 
 
 Thieves are not judged, but they are by to hear, 
 
 Although apparent guilt be seen in them : 
 
 And shall the figure of Heaven's Majesty, 
 
 His captain, steward, deputy elect, 
 
 Anointed, crowned, planted many years, 
 
 Be judged by subject and inferior breath. 
 
 And he himself not present ? Oh, forbid it, Heaven, 
 
 That, in a Christian climate, souls refined 
 
 Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! 
 
 I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
 
 Stirred up by truth, thus boldly for his king. 
 
 My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king. 
 
 Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : 
 
 And if you crown him, let me prophesy — 
 
 The blood of English shall manure the ground, 
 
 And future ages groan for this foul act ; 
 
 Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, 
 
 And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars 
 
 Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound ; 
 
 Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny 
 
 Shall here inhabit, and this land be called 
 
 The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. 
 
 Oh ! if you rear this house against this house, 
 
 It will the wofuUest division prove 
 
 That ever fell upon this cursed earth ! 
 
 Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, 
 
 Lest children's children cry against you — woe ! 
 
 10. Honour, thou bloodstained god ! at whose red altar 
 Sit war and homicide : oh ! to what madness 
 Will insult drive thy votaries ! In truth, 
 In the world's range, there does not breathe a man 
 Whose brutal nature I more strove to soothe 
 With long forbearance, kindness, courtesy. 
 Than his who fell by me. But he disgraced me, 
 Stained me — oh, death and shame ! — the world looked on 
 And saw this sinewy savage strike me down. 
 Rain blows upon me, drag me to and fro, 
 On the base earth, like carrion. Desperation, 
 In every fibre of my frame, cried Vengeance ! 
 I left the room which he had quitted. Chance, 
 (Curse on the chance !) while boiling with my. wrongs, 
 
 Thrust me against him, darkling, in the street 
 
 I stabbed him to the heart and my oppressor 
 
 Rolled lifeless at my foot. 
 Would you think it ? 
 
 o
 
 210 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XII. 
 
 E'en at the moment when I gave the blow, 
 
 Butchered a fellow-creature in the dark, 
 
 I had all good men's love. But my disgrace. 
 
 And my opponent's death thus linked with it, 
 
 Demanded notice of the magistracy. 
 
 They summoned me, as friend would summon friend, 
 
 To acts of import and communication. 
 
 We met — and 'twas resolved, to stifle rumour, 
 
 To put me on my trial. No accuser, 
 
 No evidence appeared, to urge it on 
 
 'Twas meant to clear my fame. How clear it then? 
 
 How cover it ? — you say. — Why, by a lie — 
 
 Guilt's offspring, and its guard. I taught this breast. 
 
 Which truth once made her throne, to forge a lie, 
 
 This tongue to utter it ; — rounded a tale, 
 
 Smooth as a seraph's song from Satan's mouth ; 
 
 So well compacted, that the o'erthronged court 
 
 Disturbed cool Justice in her judgment-seat, 
 
 By shouting "Innocence !" ere I had finished. 
 
 The court enlarged me ; and the giddy rabble 
 
 Bore me, in triumph, home. Ay! — look upon me. — 
 
 I know thy sight aches at me. 
 
 11. I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty com- 
 mensurate with, and inseparable from, British soil ; — which proclaims 
 even to the stranger and sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon 
 British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and conse- 
 crated by the genius of Universal Emancipation. No matter in what 
 language his doom may have been pronounced; — no matter what 
 complexion, incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun 
 may have burnt upon him ; no matter in what disastrous battle his 
 liberty may have been cloven down ; — no matter with what solemnities 
 he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery ; — the first moment 
 he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together 
 in the dust; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty ; his body swells 
 beyond the measure of the chains that burst from around him ; and he 
 stands — redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled by the irresistible 
 genius of "Universal Emancipation." 
 
 1 2. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose 
 be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other 
 possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter 
 of the world to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies ? 
 No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us : they can be meant for 
 no other. They are sent over to bind and to rivet upon us those chains 
 which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have 
 we to oppose to them ? Shall we try argument ? Sir, we have been 
 trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon 
 the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of
 
 Lect. XII.] ON ELOCUTION. 211 
 
 which it is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to 
 entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find which 
 have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, 
 deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be 
 done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned, 
 we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves 
 before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the 
 tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have 
 been slighted ; our remonstrances have produced additional violence 
 and insult ; our supplications have been disregarded ; and we have been 
 spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these 
 things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. 
 There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we 
 mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we 
 have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the 
 noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we 
 have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our 
 contest shall be obtained, we must fight ; I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! 
 An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us ! 
 
 I have already spoken of the different emotional uses of the keys of 
 the human voice in the Lectures I have given you, when treating of the 
 emotional uses of the inflections, and I shall refer to the subject again 
 when I come to speak of the various passions and emotions of human 
 nature as indicated by expression of countenance, gestures, and voice 
 generally. And now, last of all, in this division of our subject, I have 
 to bring before your notice that special modulation of the voice — often 
 combined with considerable variation as regards tiine as well as power 
 of voice, ranging in the one from very slow to very quick, and in the 
 other from very soft to very loud — which has received the name of 
 
 IMITATIVE MODULATION.
 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 M 
 
 ^Tl 
 
 f 
 
 P 
 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 l^^iJ^^K 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 difi^ 
 
 
 ^^Sp 
 
 
 LECTURE XIII. 
 
 Imitative Modulation — What is meant by it — Views of Lord Kames in reference to 
 Imitative Modulation — Illustrations — Time in Reading and Speaking, and its 
 Varieties — Slow, Medium, and Quick Time — General Suggestions — Illustrations 
 for Practice. 
 
 THINK we are indebted to Lord Kames, the eminent Scotch 
 judge and critic, as being one of the earliest writers in our 
 language who has entered into anything like a full and 
 philosophical examination of this interesting subject. In 
 that chapter in his " Elements of Criticism," which treats of 
 " Beauty of Language," he justly remarks that a resemblance between 
 the sound of certain words and their significaiiofi is a beauty that has 
 escaped no critical writer, and yet has scarcely been handled with 
 sufficient accuracy by any of them. They have probably been of 
 opinion that a beauty so obvious to the mind required no explanation. 
 This is an error, says Lord Kames, and to avoid it in his own work he 
 enters into a very learned and elaborate disquisition on the subject, 
 giving a great number of examples of the various resemblances between 
 sound and signification, accompanied with an endeavour to explain why 
 such resemblances are so beautiful. He begins with illustrations where 
 the resemblance between the sound and the signification is the most 
 complete, and then goes on to examples where the resemblance is less 
 and less obvious. 
 
 There being frequently, he says, a strong resemblance between one 
 sound and another, it will not be surprising to find an articulate 
 sound resembling one that is not articulate. Thus the sound of a bow- 
 string when the arrow is discharged is well imitated by Pope, in the 
 following italicised words : — 
 
 " The string let fly, 
 Twang d short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's cry." 
 
 Again, in a well-known passage from his translation of Homer's Iliad, 
 what admirable words has he selected to express the sound of felling 
 trees in a wood : — 
 
 " Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on strokes, 
 On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks
 
 Lect. XIII.] K2NG'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 213 
 
 Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown, 
 Then rustling, cracklifig, crashing, thunder down." 
 
 Or again from the same poet : — 
 
 " Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, 
 And here Chary bdis fills the deep with storms ; 
 When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves. 
 The rough rock roars ; tumultuous boil ihe waves." 
 
 Now no person can be at a loss about the cause of this beauty of 
 sound and sense combined in the foregoing passages ; it is obviously 
 that of imitation. That there is any other resemblance of sound to sig- 
 nification must not be taken for granted. There is no resemblance of 
 sound to motion, nor of sound to feeling or sentiment. But we may be 
 deceived, as it were, by the artful delivery of the accomplished reader 
 or speaker. The same passage may be pronounced in many different 
 keys, tones, and time ; the modulation may be high or low, the tone 
 sweet or harsh, the time quick or slow, so as to be in accordance 
 with the character of the thought or emotion. Such concord must be 
 distinguished from that concord between sound and sense which is per- 
 ceived in some words, independent almost of the skilled delivery of the 
 elocutionist. The former is the poet's work ; the latter must be attributed 
 to the art of the reader or speaker. 
 
 There is another thing which contributes still more to this pleasing 
 delusion to which the hearer so readily yields himself In all languages, 
 Greek, Latin, and all its modern derivatives, in the Teutonic group, and 
 especially Anglo-Saxon and modern English, and I doubt not also in all 
 the Oriental tongues, the properties of sound and sense being ifitimately 
 connected, the properties of the one are readily communicated to the 
 other. For example, the attributes of grandeur, of sweetness, or of 
 melancholy, though belonging to the thought only, are transferred to the 
 words, which by that means resemble in appearance the thought which 
 is expressed by them. 
 
 That there may be a resemblance between articulate sounds and some 
 that are not articulate is therefore manifest. That such resemblances do 
 indeed exist, and are successfully employed by writers of genius, is clear 
 from the preceding examples, and from many others which might be 
 given. But we may safely pronounce that this natu?-al resemblance can 
 be carried no further. The objects of the different senses differ so widely 
 from each other as to exclude any resemblance. Sound in particular, 
 whether articulate or inarticulate, resembles not in any degree motion, 
 taste, or smell ; and as little can it resemble any internal sentiment, 
 feeling, or emotion. But must we then admit that nothing but sound 
 can be imitated by sound ? Taking imitation in its strict and limited 
 sense, as importing a direct resemblance between two objects, the pro- 
 position must, I think, be admitted ; and yet in many passages that are 
 not descriptive of sound, every person of cultivated taste and judgment 
 must be sensible of a peculiar concord ox harmony between the sounds of 
 the words and their meaning. As there can be no doubt, I apprehend,
 
 214 KLVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIII. 
 
 of the truth of such an assertion, it remains for us in the next place to 
 inquire into its cause, and if possible ascertain its reason. 
 
 Now it has been well remarked by Lord Karnes, that resembling 
 causes may produce effects that have no resemblance ; and causes that 
 have no resemblance may produce resembling effects. A magnificent 
 building, he says, for example, resembles not in any degree an heroic 
 action, and yet the emotions they produce are concordant, and bear a 
 certain kind of resemblance to each other. We are still more sensible 
 of this resemblance in a song, when the music is properly adapted to the 
 sentiment. There is no resemblance between thought and sound ; but 
 there is the strongest resemblance between the emotion raised by music, 
 tender and pathetic, and that raised by some plaintive elegy. Now, 
 applying this observation to the present subject, it appears that in some 
 instances the sound even of a single word makes an impression re- 
 sembling that which is made by the thing it signifies. Witness, for 
 instance, the word running, composed of two short syllables ; and still 
 more remarkably such words as rapidity, impetuosity, precipitatioti, &c. 
 Brutal manners produce in the spectator an emotion not unlike that 
 which is produced by a harsh or rough sound, and hence the beauty of 
 the figurative expression, rugged manners. Again, the word little, being 
 formed by a very small opening of the mouth, has, as it were, a feeble 
 and faint sound, which makes an impression resembling that made by a 
 diminutive object. This resemblance of effects is still more remarkable 
 Avhere a number of words are connected in a sentence. It will be often 
 found that appropriate words, pronounced in succession, often make a 
 very strong impression on the mind ; and when this impression happens 
 to accord with that made by the sense, we are sensible of a complex 
 emotion peculiarly gratifying; one proceeding from the sentiment, and 
 the other from the melody or sound of the words. But the chief pleasure 
 proceeds from having these two concordant emotions combined in per- 
 fect harmony, and carried on in the mind to a full close. Except in the 
 single case where sowid is described by words expressive of the different 
 varieties of sound, all the examples given by critics of sense being 
 imitated by sound, resolve themselves into a resemblance of effects. 
 Emotions raised by sound and signification may have a resemblance ; 
 but sound itself cannot have any resemblance to anything but sound. 
 
 Proceeding, then, now to particulars, and beginning, then, with those 
 cases where the emotions have the strongest resemblance, I observe 
 first that, by a number of syllables in succession, an emotion is frequently 
 raised extremely similar to that raised by successive action or motion. 
 This will be evident even to th6se who are most defective in sensibility 
 of ear or delicacy of taste, from the following fact, that the term 7nove- 
 ment, in all languages, is equally applicable to both. In this manner 
 successive motion, such as walking, running, galloping, can be imitated 
 by a succession of long or short syllables, or by a due mixture of both. 
 For example, slo7v motion may be justly imitated in a verse where 
 syllables long in point ^quantity chiefly prevail, and the idea is properly 
 carried out by the reader or speaker pronouncing such passage in what 
 is termed slow time — take the following, from Tennyson : —
 
 Lect. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 215 
 
 " And slo7vly, sloivly, more and more. 
 The moony vapour rolling round the king, 
 Who seem'd the phantom of a giant in it, 
 Enwound him fold by fold, and made him grey 
 And greyer, till himself became as mist 
 Before her, moving ghost-like to his doom." 
 
 Secondly, on the other hand, swift, rapid, impetuous motion may be 
 successfully imitated by a succession of short syllables, delivered in 
 quick time, and with the short poise of the voice combined, as in the 
 opening lines of Browning's " Good News from Ghent " :— 
 
 '^ I sprang to the saddle, and Joris and he, 
 I galloped, Dirck galloped.^ we galloped all three. '^ 
 
 Thirdly, a line composed of monosyllables makes an impression by 
 the frequency of its pauses, aided by the slow time and appropriate 
 rhetorical pauses zx^di full poise of voice on the part of the reader, similar 
 to that which is made by heavy laborious interrupted motion. Pope 
 will supply us with a good illustration in the last of these two expressive 
 lines : — 
 
 " First march the heavy mules securely slow, 
 O^er hills, o'er dales, der crags, der rocks they go." 
 
 Fourthly, the impression made on the ear by rough harsh-sounding 
 syllables in succession resembles that made by the sound of rough or 
 tumultuous motion, especially when properly carried out by the art of 
 the cultivated reader; whilst on the other hand, the impression of 
 smooth sounds, gently and flowingly delivered, resembles that of soft 
 gentle motion. 
 
 The first couplet in the following lines, from Pope's translation of 
 the Odyssey, will give us an admirable illustration of the former, while 
 the concluding lines will serve well to exemplify the latter : — 
 
 " Two craggy rocks projecting to the main, 
 The roaring wind's tempestuous rage restrain : 
 Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide, 
 And ships secure, without their hawsers ride." 
 
 Perhaps a still better illustration of the latter, and then of the former, 
 is to be found in the same poet's " Essay on Criticism : " — 
 
 " Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently bloivs. 
 And the smooth stream ifi smoother tuonbers flows ; 
 But when loud surges lash the soundi?ig shore, 
 The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar." 
 
 Fifthly, to illustrate prolonged motion of various kinds, let us take 
 some of the Alexandrine lines which the same poet so artfully and
 
 2i6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIII. 
 
 judiciously introduces in some of his most beautiful passages. The first 
 shall be of slmv motion prolonged : — 
 
 " A needless Alexandrine ends the song 
 That like a wounded snake drags its slo7v length along.'' 
 
 The next o( forcible motion prolonged : — 
 
 " The waves behind i?npel the waves before, 
 
 Wide rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shored 
 
 And our last example shall be of rapid motion prolonged. 
 
 " Not so when szvift Camilla scows the plain, 
 Flies o'er the unbending cor?i and skims along the main." 
 
 I think I have now given a sufficient number of examples to illustrate 
 adequately the leading principles of what, in default of a better term, is 
 called imitative modulation. I just read, in concluding these various 
 illustrations, one magnificent passage from Lord Bvron, in which every 
 line may be cited as an example of imitative modulation : — 
 
 " Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell, 
 Then shrieked the titfiid, and stood still the brave , 
 Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell, 
 As eager to anticipate their grave : 
 And the sea yawn'd arouiid her like a hell ; 
 And down she sucked with her the whirling wave, 
 Like one who grapples with his enemy, 
 And strives to strangle him before he die. 
 
 " And first one universal shriek there rusJid 
 Louder than the loud ocean — like a crash 
 Oi echoing thiuider — and then ^/Z/was hush'd 
 Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 
 Oi billotos ; but at intervals ihtxo. gtish'd, 
 Accompanied with a convulsive splash, 
 A solitary shriek — the bubblifig cry 
 Of some strong swimmer in his agony." 
 
 Thus, then, it will be seen that in all descriptive reading much 
 .expressive beauty is gained by " making the sound seem echo to the 
 sense." As far as possible, the pronunciation of words should be such 
 as will, consistently with the requirements of good taste, convey by their 
 sound the actions they describe, and the objects which they represent. 
 By availing himself of all the aids afforded by intonation, inflection, 
 modulation, and poise, the skilful reader or speaker can often convey 
 to the mind as vivid and impressive a picture as the artist can convey 
 to the eye by means of his canvas, brush, and palette. In discussing 
 this portion of the subject. Lord Kames well observes that the only 
 general rule that can be given for directing the pronunciation, is to
 
 Lect. XIII.] OiV ELOCUTION. 217 
 
 sound the words in such a manner as to imitate or convey to the mind 
 as strongly as possible an idea of the things they signify. In pronounc- 
 ing words signifying what is elevated, the voice ought to be raised above 
 its ordinary tone ; whilst, on the other hand, words expressive of grief, 
 pathos, melancholy dejection, and kindred feelings of depression, should 
 be pronounced in a low key of modulation. To convey the idea of 
 stern, harsh, or impetuous passion, the tone in which the words should 
 be pronounced is loud and strong. On the contrary, again, a gentle 
 and kindly passion should be delivered in a soft, flowing, and melodi- 
 ous tone. In Dryden's poem of " Alexander's Feast," the line " fallen, 
 fallen, fallen ! " represents a gradual sinking of the mind, and therefore 
 any person of taste, even without instruction in the art of elocution, 
 would be almost certain instinctively to read each repetition of the 
 words with a tone becoming more and more subdued. Another cir- 
 cumstance which contributes greatly to the resemblance between sense 
 and sound, is slowness or quickness of time in delivery ; for though the 
 length or shortness of the syllables in point of quantity be ascertained 
 accurately, yet the whole clause or sentence may be delivered either in 
 slow, medium, or quick time. A clause or sentence ought to be pro- 
 nounced slowly when it expresses a similar action, or when it conveys 
 to the mind that which is grave, deliberate, solemn, or important ; while, 
 on the other hand, it should be pronounced quickly when it describes 
 action which is brisk or rapid, or conveys emotions that are lively, joyful, 
 or impetuous. And now a few words in conclusion, in more especial 
 reference to those who will read these Lectures hereafter. It is no more 
 to be expected that a person will become an accomplished reader or 
 speaker versed in all the resources which are afforded by the art of elocu- 
 tion merely by becoming acquainted with the theory of the art and 
 learning a determinate set of rules, than that he should become a 
 finished vocalist by studying a treatise on the art of singing and learning 
 the names of the different notes in music, their meaning and value. In 
 one art as well as the other theory is requisite, but in elocution the power 
 of properly inflecting and harmoniously modulating the voice is to be 
 acquired only by example and practice, such as these King's College 
 Evening Classes afford to every student who enters them. To you who 
 listen to me, these Lectures hereafter may serve, I hope, as useful aids 
 to memory in connecting mere theory with actual practice. By pro- 
 nouncing immediately after a correct reader a series of exercises in 
 inflection and modulation, a good ear will convey an impression to the 
 mind of the leading principles of both, and practice will soon make an 
 indifferent reader or speaker advance rapidly in improvement. But of 
 course all persons vary in their natural gifts, and there is no art in which 
 the advantage of possessing y^^//«^, taste, discretion, a7id education is more 
 apparent than in that of Elocution. 
 
 Last of all, I would say, in order to acquire the power of easily chang- 
 ing the different keys in which you read or speak, at pleasure, accustom 
 yourselves to pitch the voice in various keys, from the highest to the 
 lowest you can command in range. It is very probably the case that 
 few occasions will arise for employing so wide a latitude of modula-
 
 2i8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIII. 
 
 tion in ordinary reading aloud or speaking in public ; but still the 
 practice is most useful, and the actual exercise will give you such a 
 power and command of voice as cannot be acquired by any other mode. 
 Having duly carried out this practice till you can read with ease in a 
 wide range of modulation from low keys to high, and from high to low, 
 then read as exercises on this rule such compositions in poetry or prose 
 (perhaps at first the former is best, on account of the better opportunity 
 for sustaining the vowel sounds in syllables that are long in quantity), 
 such compositions as have a variety of emotions, actions, or speakers 
 introduced, or dramatic dialogues, observing the various keys in modu- 
 lation which seem best adapted to each, and endeavouring to change 
 them as nature and art jointly direct. Such practice will prove as bene- 
 ficial to the voice as it is pleasant and profitable to the mind. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF HORATIUS. — Macauloy. 
 
 Meanwhile the Tuscan army, 
 
 Right glorious to behold, 
 
 C^Tde flashing back the noonday light, 
 
 Rank behind rank, like surges bright, 
 
 Of a broad sea of gold. 
 
 Four hundred trumpets sounded^ 
 
 A peal of warlike glee ; 
 
 As that great host, with jneasured tread. 
 
 And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 
 
 Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head. 
 
 Where stood the dauntless Three. 
 
 The Three stood calm and silent. 
 
 And looked upon the foes, 
 
 And a great shout of laughter 
 
 From all the vanguard rose : 
 
 And forth three chiefs came spurring, 
 
 Before that mighty mass ; 
 
 To earth they sprang. 
 
 Their swords they drew, 
 
 And lifted high their shields, and^<?zc 
 
 To win the narrow pass. 
 
 But all Etruria's noblest 
 Felt their hearts sink to see 
 On the earth the bloody corpses, 
 In the path the dauntless Three ; 
 And from the ghastly entrance, 
 Where those bold Romans stood, 
 All shrank, like boys who unaware, 
 Ranging the woods to start a hare. 
 Come to the mouth of the dark lair
 
 T-KCT. XIII.] ON elocution: 2ig 
 
 Where, growling low, a fierce old bear, 
 Lies amidst bones and blood. 
 
 Was none who would be foremost, 
 To lead such dire attack ; 
 But those behind cried "Forward !" 
 And those before cried " Back ! " 
 And backward now and forward. 
 Wavers the deep array ; 
 And on the tossing sea of steel. 
 To and fro the standards reel ; 
 And the victorious trumfet-peal 
 Dies fitfully are'ay. 
 
 But meanwhile axe and lever 
 
 Have manfully been plied ; 
 
 And now the bridge hangs tottering 
 
 Above the boiling tide. 
 
 " Come back, cotne back, Nor alius ! " 
 
 Loud cried the fathers all. 
 
 " Back, Lartius I back, Herminius / 
 
 Back, ere the ruin fall I " 
 
 Back darted Spurius Lartius ; 
 
 Herminius darted back : 
 
 And, as they passed, 
 
 Beneath their feet 
 
 They felt the timbers crack. 
 
 But when they turned their faces, 
 
 And on the farther shore 
 
 Saw brave Horatius stand alone, 
 
 They would have crossed once more. 
 
 But with a crash like thimder. 
 
 Fell every loosened beam. 
 
 And, like a dam, the mighty wreck 
 
 Lay right athwart the stream : 
 
 And a long shout of triuynph 
 
 Rose from the walls of Rome, 
 
 As to the highest turret-tops 
 
 Was splashed the yellow foam. 
 And, like a horse unbroken. 
 
 When first he feels the rein, 
 
 The furious river struggled hard, 
 
 And tossed his tawny mane, 
 
 And burst the curb, and bounded. 
 
 Rejoicing to be free ; 
 
 And wJmiing down in fierce career. 
 
 Battlement, and plank, and pier, 
 
 Rushed headlong to the sea. 
 
 Alone stood brave Horatius,
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lecx XIIL 
 
 But constant still in mind ; 
 
 Thrice thirty thousand foes before, 
 
 And the broad flood behind. 
 
 " Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, 
 
 With a smile ofi his pale face ; 
 
 " Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 
 
 " Now yield thee to our grace." 
 
 Round turned he, as not deigning 
 
 Those craven ranks to see ; 
 
 Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, 
 
 To Sextus nought spoke he : 
 
 But he saw on Palatinus 
 
 The white porch of his home ; 
 
 And he spake to the noble river 
 
 That rolls by the towers of Rome. 
 
 " O Tiber, Father Tiber, 
 To whom the Romans pray ; 
 A Roman's life, a Roman's arms. 
 Take thou in charge this day ! " 
 So he spake, and speaking sheathed 
 The good sword by his side, 
 And, with his harness on his back, 
 Plunged headlong in the tide. 
 
 No so7ind of joy or sorrotv 
 
 Was heard frotn either bank ; 
 
 But friends and foes i?i dumb surprise, 
 
 IVith parted lips and straifiing eyes, 
 
 Stood gazing where he satik ; 
 
 And when above the surges 
 
 They saw his crest appear. 
 
 All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry ; 
 
 And e'en the ranks of Tuscany 
 
 Could scarce forbear to cheer. 
 
 'Bnt fiercely ran the current, 
 
 Swollen high by months of rain : 
 
 And fast his blood was flowing. 
 
 And he was sore in pain, 
 
 And heavy 7vith his armour. 
 
 And spent with cha?iging blows : 
 
 And ofttluy thought him sinking, 
 
 But still again he rose. 
 
 Never, 1 ween, did swimmer, 
 
 In such an evil case, 
 
 Struggle through such a raging flood 
 
 Safe to the landing-place : 
 
 But his limbs were borne up bravely 
 
 By the brave heart within, 
 
 And our good father Tiber 
 
 Bare bravely up his chin.
 
 lect. xiii.j on elocution. 
 
 " Curse on him ! " quoth false Sextus; 
 
 " Will not the villain drown ? 
 
 But for this stay, ere close of day, 
 
 We should have sacked the town ! " 
 
 " Heaven help him ! " quoth Lars Porsena, 
 
 " And bring him safe to shore ; 
 
 For such a gallant feat of arms 
 
 Was never seen before." • 
 
 And now he feels the bottom ; 
 
 Now on dry earth he stands, 
 
 Now round htm throng the fathers 
 
 To press his gory hands ; 
 
 And notv with shouts and clapping, 
 
 And noise of weeping loud, 
 
 He enters through the river-gate, 
 
 Borne by the joyous crowd. 
 
 THE EXECUTION OF MONTROSE. — Aytoun. 
 
 1. Come hither, Evan Cameron ! 
 
 Come, stand beside my knee 1 
 I hear the river roaring down 
 
 Towards the wintry sea. 
 There's shouting on the mountain-side, 
 
 There's war within the blast : 
 Old faces look upon me, 
 
 Old forms go trooping past : 
 I hear the pibroch wailing 
 
 Amid the din of fight, 
 And my dim spirit wakes again 
 
 Amid the gloom of night. 
 
 2. 'Twas I that led the Highland host 
 
 Through wild Lochaber's snows. 
 What time the plaided clans came down 
 
 To battle with Montrose. 
 I've told thee how the Southrons fell 
 
 Beneath the broad claymore, 
 And how we smote the Campbell clan 
 
 By Inverlochy's shore. 
 I've told thee how we swept Dundee, 
 
 And tamed the Lindsays' pride ; 
 But never have I told thee yet 
 
 How the great Marquis died. 
 
 3. A traitor sold him to his foes, 
 
 Oh deed of deathless shame ! 
 I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet 
 With one of Assynt's name,
 
 222 KING'S COLLEGE, LECTURED [Lect. XIII. 
 
 Be it upon the mountain-side, 
 
 Or yet within the glen, 
 Stand he in martial gear alone, 
 
 Or backed by armed men, 
 Face him, as thou wouldst face the man 
 
 That wronged thy sire's renown ; 
 Remember of what blood thou art, 
 
 And strike the caitiff down. 
 
 4. They brought him to the Watergate, 
 
 Hard bound with hempen span. 
 As though they held a lion there, 
 
 And not a fenceless man : 
 They set him high upon a cart — 
 
 The hangman rode below : 
 They drew his hands behind his back. 
 
 And bared his noble brow. 
 Then, as a hound is sUpped from leash, 
 
 They cheered, the common throng, 
 And blew the note with yell and shout, 
 
 And bade him pass along. 
 
 5. It would have made a brave man's heart 
 
 Grow sad and sick that day, 
 To watch the keen malignant eyes 
 
 Bent down on that array. 
 There stood the Whig west-country lords 
 
 In balcony and bow ; 
 There sat their gaunt and withered dames, 
 
 And their daughters all a-row ; 
 And every open window 
 
 Was full as full might be 
 With black-robed covenanting carles, 
 
 That goodly sport to see ! 
 
 6. But when he came, though pale and worn. 
 
 He looked so great and high, 
 So noble was his manly front, 
 
 So calm his steadfast eye, 
 The rabble rout forbore to shout, 
 
 And each man held his breath, 
 For well they knew the hero's soul 
 
 Was face to face with death. 
 And then a mournful shudder 
 
 Through all the people crept, 
 And some that came to scoff at him 
 
 Now turned aside — and wept. 
 
 7. But onwards, always onwards, 
 
 In silence and in gloom,
 
 Lect. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 223 
 
 The dreary pageant laboured, 
 
 Till it reached the house of doom. 
 Then first a woman's voice was heard 
 
 In jeer and laughter loud, 
 And an angry cry and a hiss arose 
 
 From the heart of the surging crowd ; 
 Then, as the Graeme looked upwards, 
 
 He saw the ugly smile 
 Of him who sold his king for gold — 
 
 The master- fiend — Argyle ! 
 
 8. The Marquis gazed a moment, 
 
 And nothing did he say. 
 But the cheek of Argyle grew deadly pale, 
 
 And he turned his eyes away. 
 The painted harlot by his side 
 
 She shook through every limb, 
 For a roar like thunder swept the street, 
 
 And hands were clenched at him ; 
 And a Saxon soldier cried aloud, 
 
 " Back, coward, from thy place 1 
 For seven long years thou hast not dared 
 
 To look him in the face." 
 
 9. Had I been there with sword in hand. 
 
 And fifty Camerons by. 
 That day through high Dunedin's streets 
 
 Had pealed the slogan cry. 
 Not all their troops of trampling horse, 
 
 Nor might of mailed men ; 
 Not all the rebels in the south 
 
 Had borne us backward then. 
 Once more his foot on Highland heath, 
 
 Had trod as free as air, 
 Or I, and all who bore my name. 
 
 Been laid around him there ! 
 
 10. It might not be — they placed him next 
 
 Within the solemn hall. 
 Where once the Scottish kings were throned 
 
 Amidst their nobles all. 
 But there was dust of vulgar feet 
 
 On that polluted floor, 
 And perjured traitors filled the place 
 
 Where good men sat before. 
 With savage glee came Warriston 
 
 To read the murderous doom ; 
 And then uprose the great Montrose 
 
 In the middle of the room.
 
 224 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES FLect. XIII. 
 
 11. " Now, by my faith as belted knight, 
 
 And by the name I bear, 
 And by the bright Saint Andrew's cross 
 
 That waves above us — there ! 
 Yea, by a greater, mightier oath — 
 
 And oh, that such should be ! — 
 By that dark stream of royal blood 
 
 That flows 'twixt you and me ! 
 I have not sought in battlefield 
 
 A wreath of such renown, 
 Nor dared I hope on my dying day 
 
 To win the martyr's crown ! 
 
 12. " There is a chamber far away 
 
 Where sleep the good and brave, 
 But a better place ye have named for me, 
 
 Than by my father's grave. 
 For truth and right 'gainst traitor's might, 
 
 This hand hath always striven, 
 And ye raise it up as a witness still 
 
 In the eye of earth and heaven ! 
 Then nail my head on yonder tower. 
 
 Give every town a limb, 
 And God who made shall gather them ; 
 
 I go from you to Him ! " 
 
 i'^. The morning dawned full darkly, 
 
 The rain came flashing down. 
 And the jagged streak of the levin-bolt 
 
 Lit up the gloomy town. 
 The thunder crashed across the heaven, 
 
 The fatal hour was come, 
 Yet aye broke in with muffled beat 
 
 The 'larum of the drum. 
 There was madness on the earth below, 
 
 And anger in the sky, 
 And young and old, and rich and poor. 
 
 Came forth to see him die ! 
 
 14. O God ! that ghastly gibbet ! 
 
 How dismal 'tis to see 
 The great tall spectral skeleton, 
 
 The ladder and the tree ! 
 Hark ! hark ! it is the clash of arms, 
 
 The bells begin to toll ! 
 " He is coming ! he is coming ! 
 
 God's mercy on his soul ! " 
 One last long peal of thunder, 
 
 The clouds have past away. 
 And the glorious sun once more looks down 
 
 Amid the dazzling day !
 
 Lkct. XIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 225 
 
 15. " He is coming ! he is coming !" 
 
 Like a bridegroom from his room, . 
 Came the hero from the prison 
 
 To the scaffold and the doom ! 
 There was glory on his forehead, 
 
 There was lustre in his eye, 
 And he never walked to battle 
 
 More proudly than to die. 
 There was colour in his visage, 
 
 Though the cheeks of all were wan. 
 And they marvell'd as they saw him pass, 
 
 That great and goodly man ! 
 
 16. He mounted up the scaffold, 
 
 And he turned him to the crowd ; 
 But they dared not trust the people, 
 
 So he might not speak aloud. 
 But he looked upon the heavens, 
 
 And they were clear and blue, 
 And in the hquid ether 
 
 The eye of God shone through. 
 Yet a black and murky battlement 
 
 Lay resting on the hill, 
 As though the thunder slept within : 
 
 All else was calm and still ! 
 
 17. The grim Genevan ministers, 
 
 With anxious scowl, drew near, 
 As you have seen the ravens flock 
 
 Around the dying deer. 
 He would not deign them word nor sign. 
 
 But alone he bent the knee. 
 And veiled his face for Christ's dear grace 
 
 Beneath the gallows-tree. 
 Then radiant and serene he rose, 
 
 And cast his cloak away, 
 For he had ta'en his latest look 
 Of earth, and sun, and day ! 
 18. A beam of light fell o'er him. 
 
 Like a glory round the shriven. 
 And he cUmb'd the lofty ladder 
 
 As it were the path to heaven ! 
 Then came a flash from out the cloud, 
 
 And a stunning thunder-roll. 
 And no man dared to look aloft 
 
 For fear was on every soul. 
 There was another heavy sound, 
 
 A hush, and then a groan, 
 And darkness swept across the sky. 
 The work of death was done !
 
 LECTURE XIV. 
 
 Elocution considered as a Science — Mr. Thelwall's Opinions — The Knowledge of 
 Human Nature and the Philosophy of Mind^The Theory of the Poise — Ancient 
 and Modern Authorities on the Poise of the Voice in Reading and Speaking — Steele's 
 "Prosodia Rationalis" — The Laws of Quantity — The Proper Observance of the Poise 
 essential to good Reading and Speaking — Special Function of the Larynx in reference 
 to Poise — Neglect of the Observance of Poise a frequent Source of Stammering 
 and Stuttering — The Laws of Rhythm — Pauses — Rhetorical words — Mr. Herbert 
 Spencer's Views on Rhythm. 
 
 REMEMBER well that the first Lecturer on Public Reading 
 and Speaking who was appointed in this College, the late 
 Rev. A .S. Thelwall — whose name I have already quoted on a 
 former evening- — never spoke in his Lectures of the "art'' 
 of Elocution, as people are generally in the habit of calling 
 it ; but he always termed it the '' science" of Elocution, and claimed for it 
 invariably the rank and dignity of a science. And if we are to take the 
 word " science" in the sense of its original {scientia), as meaning know- 
 ledge, I think that a systematic and orderly arrangement of knowledge 
 on any important subject may fairly be said to reduce such a subject to 
 a science. 
 
 I "think I should be strongly inclined to follow the example of my late 
 excellent predecessor when lecturing here, and, like him, speak of Elocu- 
 tion as a science. For any instruction that really deserves that character 
 ought to be founded on truly scientific principles, upon an intimate know- 
 ledge of the anatomy and physiology of the organs of voice and speech, 
 and an accurate acquaintance with the principles of spoken language. 
 Mr. Thelwall always contended (and here I quite agree with him) that 
 a scientific study of Elocution must involve some consideration of the 
 principles of music ; for unless we understand so much of that science 
 as to be able to discern how far the principles of music apply to spoken 
 language (as indeed they do in a measure to all vocal sounds), and 
 wherein the music of speech differs from the music of song, we sliall not 
 only be destitute of any sui'e foundation for those rules by which the 
 management of the voice must be regulated, but we shall be liable to 
 many errors and mistakes, and unable to show how various defects are 
 to be remedied. And, moreover, we must have continually to make 
 some reference to a higher and nobler science still, viz., the knowledge 
 of human nature and the philosophy of mind. Indeed, without due 
 attention to this, how shall we be enabled fitly to express, and intel- 
 ligibly and effectively to communicate to others, the various passions.
 
 Lect. XIV.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 227 
 
 emotions, sentiments, and convictions of the human mind ? There is 
 nothing more certain than that if the principles we define and the rules 
 we lay down have not constant reference to this high and important 
 department of human knowledge and study, they w'ill most assuredly be 
 in constant danger of failing to have their foundation in truth and nature: 
 for it is mainly by means of spoken language that mind in this life here 
 communicates with mind ; and therefore it necessarily follows that not 
 only the words which we employ to express in language our manifold 
 thoughts and feelings, but the manner in which we pronounce such 
 language so as to produce its fullest effect, must have continual reference 
 and adaptation to the nature and constitution of the human mind. 
 
 Now, when it has been shown that the principles by which the inflec- 
 tion, modulation, and poise of the voice must be regulated, especially 
 in public reading and speaking, and that the rules by which the errors, 
 mistakes, and defects into which so many readers and speakers fall, are 
 to be corrected and overcome, involve a constant reference to those 
 branches of science to which reference has been made, in order to inves- 
 tigate, ascertain, and point out the true foundations on which they rest, 
 it neither can nor will be long a matter of surprise if Elocution claims 
 and receives the rank and dignity of a science. No doubt it is indeed 
 perfectly true that, when those rules have once been investigated and 
 laid down, and when the scientific principles on which they are founded 
 have been clearly ascertained, it will, generally speaking, be quite suffi- 
 cient to give to the pupil the i-esult, without entering at large with each 
 individual into the whole logical process of examination and reasoning 
 by which we have arrived at it. Yet still, an educated and scientific 
 instructor should always be prepared to explain fully the ratioiiale of 
 every rule laid down for inflection, modulation, and other elements of 
 Elocution, whenever occasion may require ; though of course there is no 
 need of his burdening the mind of every pupil who comes to him for 
 practical instruction, with all the details of the whole process of reason- 
 ing by which he has himself come to his conclusions. 
 
 When Mr. Thelwall delivered his introductory lecture on Elocution 
 in this college many years ago to a large and distinguished audience, 
 at which I had the honour and advantage of being present, he said, 
 when closing his argument in support of his favourite proposition, that 
 Elocution was a science — 
 
 " Let me consider that if Elocution claim to be considered as a 
 science, it must, first of all, have its clear definitions. We cannot lay 
 down our rules for the management of the voice without using certain 
 terms of art, which, in the ordinary course of instruction, will con- 
 tinually recur ; and those terms should be clearly defined and strictly 
 appropriated. 
 
 "To illustrate this general principle, I need only refer to Euclid, or 
 to any work on any particular branch of mathematics, ^^'hen these are 
 opened, it will be seen at once that they regularly commence with defini- 
 fiofis. If these be not distinctly set forth in the first instance, and strictly 
 Hidhered to in what follows, there will be endless confusion. Especially 
 it is evident that, if the same word were continually used to express
 
 228 A'lNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 things essentially different, there would soon be such confusion and 
 uncertainty, that all hope of coming to clear and satisfactory conclusions 
 would be utterly at an end. Only imagine a teacher of mathematics 
 who should insist on using the same word to designate an angle and a 
 circle ! what could be expected as the result but endless confusion ? 
 
 " These remarks are very important in connection with our present 
 subject. For though, in regard to sciences in general, they are so 
 obvious as almost to deserve the title of mere truisms ; yet, with 
 reference to Elocution and the phenomena of spoken language, they 
 have been most strangely and lamentably forgotten ; insomuch that 
 many able and learned men have got thoroughly into the habit of con- 
 founding things which ought to be distinguished (because, indeed, they 
 are, in their very nature, distinct) ; and this habit has laid the founda- 
 tion of many rooted prejudices. Hence it has come to pass that those 
 who have attempted to mark out a wiser course and to proceed upon 
 truly rational and scientific principles in treating of Elocution, have 
 heretofore found too much reason to complain that, even from men of 
 science and learning, they could scarcely get so much as a patient hearing. 
 
 " For example : What confusion has there been on the subject of 
 accent and quantity ! And the term accent itself has been used, and is 
 still continually used, to express ideas which are totally distinct — ideas, 
 indeed, which it is of the highest importance to distinguish — if we would 
 really understand the nature and the principles of spoken language. 
 
 "We speak oi accetits as acute, grave, and circumflex. This mode of 
 speaking has evident reference to the rising and falling of the voice in 
 the musical scale. And when we speak of an Irish accent, a Scotch 
 accent, a provincial accent, or a foreign accent, we have, generally, a 
 reference to the peculiar tones of the voice, which characterise persons 
 who come from different countries or provinces (though sometimes, 
 perhaps, we speak more vaguely, and include, under the term accent, all 
 the peculiarities of pronunciation by which such persons are distin- 
 guished ; but this is evidently a vague and incorrect way of speaking). 
 
 " But when we speak of the accented syllable of a word — when we say 
 that constant, pare/it, and teacher, are accented on the first syllable, and 
 that exalt, detect, and avoid are accented on the last, is it not evident that 
 we use the word accefit in a totally different sense ? We commonly call 
 the first syllable in the former words and the last syllable in the latter 
 that on which the acute accent falls ; and we use the note or sign of the 
 aaite accent, to mark what we call the accented syllable. But has this 
 really anything to do with acute and grave ? — with the rise or fall of the 
 voice in the musical scale ? Let us endeavour to bring this to the test 
 of careful observation." 
 
 Mr. Thelwall then gave his audience an illustration by pronouncing 
 the two following short interrogative sentences : — 
 
 " Is that a man?" 
 
 " Are you content ? " 
 
 Pronouncing these two sentences in the proper way as laid down in 
 the rules of inflection, he said reasonably enough that the individual in 
 his audience must have a very dull or unpractised ear, who did not
 
 Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 229 
 
 perceive that the speaker's voice rose to a higher note on the last syllable 
 of each of the two sentences he had just uttered. But who, among 
 his hearers, he went on to say, did not perceive with equal clearness, 
 that when the sentence is affirmative the note on the final syllable is 
 wholly different ? that the voice descends in the musical scale. 
 
 " Yes, that is a man." 
 
 "I am content." 
 
 And this essential difference between an affirmative and an interroga- 
 . five sentence is so essentially rooted in the very nature of things, he 
 continued, that we all make the distinction naiurally ; and naturally, too, 
 we all perceive and feel it. So that when the very words, and the order 
 in which the words are placed in the sentence, are in every respect 
 precisely the same, one speaker will make them sound like an interro- 
 gation, and another like an affirmation by the mere inflection of the 
 voice according as it is rising or falling at the end of the sentence. 
 
 "The king comes here to-night." 
 
 This, now, so pronounced, is meiely a simple affirmation. But sup- 
 posing, for a moment, that the sentence was not fully heard or under- 
 stood at first, the question for further information or assurance of the 
 fact might be asked in precisely the very same words, but with another 
 inflection, the rising instead of the falling. 
 
 " The king comes here to-night ? " 
 
 And yet some persons will speak of these inflections under the name 
 of accent. 
 
 I was so much impressed with a sense of the learning, labour, and 
 research exhibited by Mr. Thelwall in the portion of his lecture which 
 more immediately followed in reference to this subject, that 1 waited on 
 him afterwards, and had a very long and interesting conversation with 
 him on this, as w^ell as other questions in connection with Elocution. 
 He very kindly gave me a copy of his lecture, and shortly afterwards it 
 was printed and published by him under the title of "A Lecture on the 
 Importance of Elocution, delivered at King's College, London, on 
 entering upon the duties of Lecturer on Public Reading, Jan. 30, 1850." 
 Thirty years have elapsed since then. Mr. Thelwall is now dead, and his 
 lecture is, I believe, now entirely out of print. . I am sure, therefore, you 
 will consider it a valuable addition to your information, if here I give 
 you Mr. Thelwall's own language from the copy still in my possession. 
 
 " Now it is evident that the words king and night in these two cases 
 have equally that stress upon them, which is commonly denoted by 
 what (in speaking of polysyllables) is called the acute accent (as, when 
 we say kingly or 7iight'ly, the first is commonly called the accented 
 syllable, and it is marked in Pronouncing Dictionaries with the sign of 
 the acute accent accordingly) ; and yet, to speak correctly of the musical 
 inflection, in the affirmative sentence we pronounce them both with a 
 grave accent, and must do so in order to convey our meaning ; and, in 
 the interrogative sentence, by merely using the acn/e accent on each, we at 
 once convey, even to the dullest ear, the unmistakable impression of a 
 question. 
 
 " Is there not, then, some strange confusion, in denoting two things
 
 230 AViVG-S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 SO entirely distinct in their nature as tlie stress that is laid on particular 
 syllables, and the rise of the voice in the musical scale, by one and the 
 same term ? 
 
 "The fact is, that we want other terms to express the distinction 
 between what are so commonly, but very improperly, called the accented 
 and unaccented syllables. And for the adoption of such terms I must 
 earnestly plead ; for we commonly find that confusion of terms leads to 
 confusion of ideas. And, in reference to all discussions respecting 
 spoken language, this has been continually the case. 
 
 " We must have, in the very outset of all our inquiries on this subject 
 (if we would ever hope to bring them to a satisfactory issue) — we must 
 have clearly before our minds a threefold distinction. 
 
 " I. Quantity has reference to the comparative length of syllables ; 
 and includes the differences of long and short., or lotiger and 
 shorter. * It may be sufficient in all ordinary cases to denote 
 these distinctions by the usual marks of " for long, and " for short. 
 If more accuracy is required, the musical notes of quantity 
 
 o Semibreve, P Minim, ^ Crochet, T the Quaver, Avill serve 
 
 every purpose ; especially if (when needful) we add a dot to 
 the right, which makes the note half as long again. Thus 
 
 ,^ = r r and r = V r 
 
 ' 2. Accent has reference to the rise and fall of the voice in the 
 musical scale, or to musical inflection ; it includes acute ('), grate 
 ("), and circumflex ("). (Adopting the usual notation.) 
 
 "3. Let us, then, confine these words to their proper meanings. 
 And when we are clear as to the meaning of our terms, we are then 
 prepared to enter upon the discussion of the question, How far there 
 is any necessary connection between quantity and accent 1 or in other 
 words. Whether or not the long syllable is necessarily, or naturally, 
 aaite-^ or the short grave I 
 
 " But we must have a third term to express a third set of differences ; 
 namely, that which we observe between the first and second syllables 
 of the Yfoxds, patience, glory, conflict, pitfall ; ox delight, consists, maintain, 
 pronounce. 
 
 " This distinction is expressed by the thesis and arsis of the Greeks ; 
 which had, I conceive, reference to the planting and lifting up of the 
 
 * " I say longer and sJiorter, and not merely long and short, for it is a great mistake 
 to suppose tliat all long syllables are equally long, and all short syllables equally short. 
 An able and learned author, to whom reference is subsequently made, has clearly 
 shown that English syllables differ in length, in all the varieties of from eight to one. 
 That is to say, if the longest syllable in spoken language be denoted by a setitibreve, 
 there are other syllables continually used, of which the quantity can only be fitly 
 denoted by a quaver. My late father had come to the same conclusion, before he 
 had even heard the name of the author alluded to. This author also aptly illustrates 
 the various length of syllables, which are all called shott, by reference to the primary 
 meaning of the word dactyle : 5d/cruXos, a fi)tse>\ is indeed lon^ a.nA izuo sluvt ; but 
 who does not see, by looking at his own linger, that the two short joints are not 
 equally short? We have, in fact, long, short, and shorUr.^''
 
 Lect. XIV.] OM ELOCUTION. 2jt 
 
 foot in walking, or to the fall and rise of the time-beater in beating time 
 to music. 
 
 " I am well aware that there have been disputes and dififerences as to 
 the meaning and application of those terms ; insomuch that some writers 
 use them in an inverted sense — some calling that arsis which others call 
 thesis; and vice-versa. Baccheius says: — '"Asc/i/ woiav XiyoiJ.iv mai ; 
 ' Orctv /xir'soj^og ij 6 'ttovc, r,\iiKa dv fjLsXXufxsv i/x^uhcui. &iaiv d'e, -ttoiolv -^ ' Otolv 
 ■/.uiMivoa.' ' What do we call arsis 1 When the foot is lifted up with the 
 intention of taking a step. What thesis ? When it is put down.' 
 
 "And the Scholiast to Hermogenes:* '"Apff/; xai 6sgi; xvsmg p-h 
 6tiofMa.<^s~ai, <na^u rot; Mouff/xo/i, sV/' ruv tou ttooo, ■A.souf/.dTUv a.\/u r, xdru rriu 
 o^iMTiv XufilSdvoiTog.' ' ^rsis and Thesis are the names properly bestowed 
 by Musicians upon the beats of the foot, lifted up or put down.' And 
 Marius Victorinus says, to the same purpose, in one place, 'Arsis et 
 thesis, quas Grceci dicunt, zd'^i'/, sublatio ^/positio, significant pedis motuni : 
 est enim arsis sublatio pedis., sine sono ; thesis, positio pedis, cum sono.' 
 ' Arsis and thesis, as the Greeks say, that is lifting up and putting dotun, 
 signify the motion of the foot ; for arsis is the lifting up of the foot, 
 7i'ithout sound, t/iesis, the putting down of the foot, with sound.'' Other 
 passages might be quoted, to illustrate the use of the words in these 
 senses. It is true that Marius Victorinus immediately gives another 
 definition, which leads us to a totally different apphcation of the terms. 
 ' Itetn arsis est elatio temporis, soni, vocis : thesis depositio et gucedam 
 contractio syllabaruin ' t — the purport of which, did it stand alone, 
 would, I think, be somewhat dubious ; but he explains it by reference to 
 Pyrrhic and Spondaic and other feet, in a manner which leaves no dotrt)t 
 as to his meaning. Priscian fully agrees with him, and explains himself 
 yet more clearly : ^ Natn in U7iaquaque parte orationis arsis et thesis sunt, 
 nan in ordine syllabaruin, sed in pronunciatiofie, velut in hac parte, natura ; 
 i^t quando dice natu, elevatur vox et est arsis in tu ; quando vera ra, dcpri- 
 mitur vox, et est thesis.'' \ And this, so far as I have observed, is the view 
 that is more commonly taken. Nevertheless, it appears to me, that the 
 former explanation is the more simple and natural. And the authors, 
 to whom I am indebted for the most valuable hints and information on 
 
 * "See Stephan. Thesaur. Linguae Graecce, in voce ^eVis. It may not be amiss to 
 transcribe the whole passage : — 
 
 " Ernesti Lex. Rhet. Techn, Gr. "Apcns, Grsecis dicta Sublatio pedis in saltatione, 
 lit ^e'cris, ejusiem pedis Positio. Inde forma loquendi ad spatia ilia traducta est, quae 
 sunt in syllabis longis et brevibus. Hinc Quintil. 9, 4, 48. Rhythmo, inquit, indif- 
 ferens est, daclyhis ne ille priores habeat breves, an sequentes. Tempus enim solum 
 metitur, ut a sublatione ad positionem (h. e. ab dpcrei ad ^eo-tviisdem sit spatiis pedum. 
 Cf. Aristid. Quintil. p. 31. Meibom., ubi hjec sunt : "Apais earl <popa <Tw/xaTos iirl rb 
 avw. Beats Si, iirl t6 Karu ravrov fxepovs. Schol. Anon, ad Hermog. irepi Id, I, p. 400. 
 T. 2, Aid. Rhet.' Then follow the words which are quoted in the text, to which are 
 subjoined the following : — wapa oi rots 'VrfTopcn, to Kara dTr6<pa(jiv nai KardcpaxTLi' 
 arifiaivfL — pointing out that the use of the words dy Rhetoricians is entirely distinct. 
 We are concerned, of course, with the use of them by Music2ans. 
 
 t Mar. Victorini Artis Gramm., 1. i. 
 
 :J: Priscian de Accentibus lib. 
 
 Both these authors are to be found in the Grammatica; Latinas Auctores Antiqui of 
 Putschius. ;Hanov. 1605.) See coll. 2482 and 1289.
 
 232 KIXG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 this subject, take very decidedly the same view. While, therefore, it may 
 well become me to say — 
 
 Non nostrum — tantas componere lites. 
 Not ours to reconcile so great a strife — 
 
 still — as, in using the words, I must make my choice, and use each word 
 in a fixed and uniform sense — I can only take that which commends 
 itself to my own judgment ; and I may as well state, once for all, that 
 I understand by thesis and arsis that which corresponds to the/t^/Zand rise 
 of the foot or time-beater. I would express the same things in English 
 by the words heavy and light. * And this quality in syllables, which has 
 reference to the difference between heavy and /ight. I would call poise. 
 
 " In this view, and in the use of these terms, I follow the ablest writer 
 on these subjects that I have ever yet met with. This was a gentleman 
 named Joshua Steele, who wrote during the last century a book entitled 
 ' Prosodia Rationalis ' (of which the first edition seems to have been 
 published in 1775, and the second, of which I have a copy, in 1779). 
 This writer was a thorough scientific and practical musician, with a very 
 nice and practised ear. He was also well acquainted with Greek and 
 Latin authors. — whom he freely quotes in his work. The form of that 
 work did not much commend it to general readers ; so that it seemed 
 to fall into general neglect, till my father met with it. He derived from 
 it very great assistance ; which he was always ready to acknowledge : 
 so that, both in his public lectures and in his private conversation, he 
 was in the habit of mentioning it continually ; and that with very high 
 commendation. 
 
 " Steele continually makes this threefold distinction between quantity., 
 accent, and poise. Indeed, great part of his work is occupied with estab- 
 lishing and illustrating that threefold distinction. 
 
 " In addition, then, to the qualities of — 
 
 " I. Quantity, and 2. Accent, which I have already spoken of, I must 
 now add — 
 
 " 3. Poise — which has reference to the alternation of thesis and arsis, 
 or heavy and light. Adopting a notation first used, I believe, by Steele, 
 I would denote heavy by A) and light by .*. , placed under the respective 
 syllables. 
 
 " Now it appears from an anatomical examination of the lar}-nx, and 
 from experiments and observations as to the action of that delicate and 
 
 * Thus in the line — 
 
 '• Man, on the dubious waves of error toss'd," 
 I should call the first, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth syllables heavy, or in thesis and 
 the other syllables light, or in arsis. 
 
 This would agree with Aristeides Quintilianus, who says : — 
 
 "Ta/t/3oj, e| -rj/juaiias dpcrews Kal onrXaaiov deceus. Tpoxaios €k onryaffiov Oiaewi 
 KoX ^paxeias dpcrews. — De Musica, p. 37. 
 
 And with Baccheius : — 
 
 "'lafiSos avyKeirai €k ^pax^os Kal /xaKpoO XP^"""- Spx""^' 5' dwo dcreu^. otov, OeoO 
 Xopeios avveffTijKe de eK /xapKov Kai ^paxios x.o<5>'oi'. S-px^Tai 5 aTro Becrewi. oTof, irQXos. 
 — Introd. Artis Musicae, p. 25. 
 
 I refer to both these authors, as I find them in the Antiqu.-e Musicce Auclores Septeni 
 of Meibomius. — (Amste', 1652.)
 
 Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 233 
 
 wonderful part of the mechanism of the human body, that this alterna- 
 tion and distinction of heavy and light is (from the very structure and 
 action of the organs of voice) inherent in all spoken language. There 
 is, and must be, an action and reaction regularly going on, which is the 
 foundation of all measure in speech ; and which serves so to regulate 
 our utterance, whether in reading, public speaking, or common conver- 
 sation, — that all spoken language may be divided into musical bars, 
 which have their regular and proper beginning and ending. There is a 
 measure in speech, marked out and defined by a regular succession of 
 action and reaction in the organs of voice, just as really and truly as 
 there is in music. Now, in the action of the heart or beating of the 
 pulse (and also in the ordinary process of respiration), the law of health 
 is regularity: — so that the pulse beats time : and, when that regularity of 
 action is disturbed, the physician immediately recognises a symptom of 
 disease ; — a fact which did not escape the observation of Shakespeare ; 
 for he makes Hamlet say — 
 
 ' " My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep titne 
 And makes as healthful inusic.'' 
 
 So also in walking — whether quickly or slowly — we naturally keep time 
 (so that a whole party can, and do, comfortably walk together, and keep 
 step with step) ; and if we see a man walking irregularly, and not keep- 
 ing time, we at once begin to think there is something the matter with 
 him. Thus it is also in speaking or reading. The Law of Nature 
 enjoins regular time-keeping — a regular measured alternation of heavy 
 and light. And if we violate this law, and invert the process — so that 
 the alternation proceed from light to heavy — the effect would be offen- 
 sive and strange (even to those who could not tell why). And if the 
 law be broken in regard to the regularity of the alternation, stammering 
 and stuttering will be the almost inevitable consequence.* 
 
 "I am not here going to explain the anatomical mechanism, and its 
 action, upon which this regular alternation depends. That would require 
 
 * "On this point, the following remarkable passage occurs in Steele's ' Prosodia 
 Rationalis ; ' which is, to my mind, one of the most remarkable proofs of the accurate 
 observation and penetrating judgment of the writer that can be found in the whole 
 volume : — 
 
 " 'The dislocated order of the Poise (if any one could pronounce so) would give 
 pain to an audience. 
 
 " ' People wlio stutter pronounce partly in this latter manner ; but it is notorious, 
 when sucli persons sing, they never hesitate or stutter ; whence it may be supposed, 
 the most easy and effectual method of curing them would be to accustom them to beat 
 time to their reading and common discourse, by which means they might learn to speak 
 in just time to the proper measure of their words and phrases. For it should seem, 
 the cause of their hesitation and stuttering arises from some inaptitude to fall in 
 immediately with the rhythmical pulsation or poise befitting their words; but which, 
 in singing, they are enabled to do by the additional influence of the diastematic melody, 
 wherein the CADENCES are more certainly pointed out than even in poetry, or any 
 language, without additional music' 
 
 "The principle here so clearly enunciated by anticipation, as the result of scientific 
 observation and reasoning, had been discovered, adopted, and acted upon by my father 
 in the cure of impediments, before he had ever heard of Steele's name ; and it was 
 pursued by him, with great success, to the end of his life."
 
 234 AGING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 a lecture of itself. But I must urge upon your attention the importance 
 of keeping in remembrance the threefold distinction to which I have 
 referred. It is highly important in various points of view. It is impor- 
 tant in connection with all scientific and judicious instruction as to 
 the management of the voice ; and in correcting various defects into 
 which public speakers are liable to fall. 
 
 " In short, without continual reference to the distinct nature of 
 Quantity, Acce7if, and Foise, we cannot explain the phenomena of spoken 
 language. But when we are clear upon these points we may go on to 
 the consideration of other points, important in their place, such as force 
 and loudness (between which also a distinction must be noted), and the 
 different ways in which emphasis may be expressed. 
 
 " And here I would also observe, that the threefold distinction I 
 have insisted on is well worthy of the attention of the classical scholar. 
 We all know that the subject of the classical metres is one of great diffi- 
 culty. Whether we shall ever be able so to understand it, as to enter 
 fully into the harmony and beauty of the versification, and especially the 
 lyrical versification, of Greece and Rome, may be greatly doubted. The 
 accounts of the Greek metres which have come down to our times, are 
 (as is well known) derived mainly from the writers of the Alexandrian 
 school. That these, apart from the labours and researches of modern 
 scholars, would afford us very little satisfaction, is, I believe, admitted 
 by all who have looked into the subject. And, with regard to other 
 departments of their labours, we all know that, while the Alexandrian 
 grammarians have transmitted to us a vast amount of useful information, 
 of which we are very glad to avail ourselves, yet we cannot follow them 
 implicitly as guides. We did not begin to have clear and enlarged views 
 of the Greek language, or to make much real progress in the knowledge 
 of it, till we began to shake off their trammels, and to use their materials 
 with independence of judgment, and with far deeper insight into the 
 philosophy of language than they ever possessed. If we have found this 
 to be the case, in regard to the principles of grammar, and the knowledge 
 of the language in general, may it not be fairly assumed that we must 
 pursue a similar process in regard to what they have left us on the sub- 
 ject of prosody ? We may gladly make use of all the information which 
 they have transmitted to us. But, before we can be prepared fully to 
 understand what we find in their writings, or to judge how far to receive, 
 and how far to correct or reject, their principles and conclusions, does it 
 not seem necessary to call to our aid the discoveries of modern science, 
 that we may investigate the true principles of all spoken language? 
 And is it not evident, that this can be done with immense advantage, 
 by investigating those principles, in the first instance, with reference to 
 a living language — with reference to our own mother tongue ? for, if we 
 take this course, w^e can bring very many questions to the test of observa- 
 tion and experiment, which (if taken up in reference to a dead language) 
 would inevitably be matters of mere speculation. But, with the help of 
 such experiments and observations, we may be enabled clearly to discern 
 what must, from the very conformation and action of our vocal and 
 enunciative organs, be common to all languages. And thus alone
 
 Lect. XIV.] ON elocution: 235 
 
 can we expect to be enabled rightly to understand, and duly to use, 
 and wisely to correct, what ancient authors have handed down to our 
 times. 
 
 "And here I would more particularly observe, that, while learned 
 authors have written with much erudition and with much abihty, to 
 point out the distinction between accent and quantity ; it is not probable 
 — I think I may say it is not possible — that they should lead us to any 
 truly satisfactory conclusions, so long as they seem themselves to be in 
 darkness and confusion as to that threefold distinction on which I have 
 already insisted. I will not venture upon the question, whether or no 
 the view which has been taken of the nature of acceiit be the true and 
 correct one. I am not desirous of entering into controversy on that 
 point. But I cannot understand how it is possible for us to be in a 
 right position to enter upon that inquiry until we have disentangled 
 ourselves from that confusion which has resulted, and which must result, 
 from using the one word accetit to denote two things which are essentially 
 distinct. We must, I think, distinguish between accent and poise, as well 
 as between accent and quantity : we must, in short, distinguish/(?/i-(f from 
 both accent and qua?itit)\ before we can have the whole question fairly 
 before us. 
 
 " But if these distinctions were clearly understood, and kept con- 
 tinually in view, as Joshua Steele keeps them in view ; if it were seen 
 that these distinctions are involved in the very nature of all spoken 
 language — that they result from the structure and action of the organs 
 of voice ; and that they lie at the foundation of the measure and melody 
 of all verse ; then I think that some of our young and aspiring scholars, 
 who are yet in the vigour of their years, might apply themselves with 
 great advantage to a more thorough investigation of the Classical IMetres 
 than has yet been accomplished. And I am persuaded that, in studying 
 the science of Elocution, with reference first of all to a hving language, 
 they would be enabled to discover principles which would lead them to 
 a simple and natural solution of some of the anomaUes of the Homeric 
 versification ; * in regard to which some of the explanations which have 
 been attempted seem little better than guesses, which do not rest upon 
 clear and definite principles. I therefore earnestly and confidently 
 invite the attention of men of science, and men of literature, to the 
 system which I endeavour to explain, and to the principles which I 
 propound, as the foundation of that system of instruction which I 
 pursue." 
 
 Convinced as I am of the soundness of the views held by Mr. 
 Thelwall, and so learnedly supported by him in the lecture from which 
 I have just given an extract, I have always, you may have possibly 
 remarked, refrained from ever using the term accent in the sense of 
 
 * "Suppose, for instance, that careful observation should detect the continual use of 
 a Digamma in our language. If it could be shown that the formation of such an ele- 
 ment is involved, of necessity, in the natural action of tlie organs of voice, in passino- 
 from one vowel to another; and that this element is 7iaturally an element of quamitv, 
 of which the tendency is, to convert the preceding vowel into a diphtliong ; would not 
 this go far to help us in thoroughly understanding and appreciating the force of the 
 Disramma in the versification of Homer ? '"
 
 236 KJiVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 ijifledion of the voice. No terms can better define what are commonly 
 called accented and unaccented syllables or words than those of heavy 
 and light ; for there is or should be always a decided -weight of the voice 
 on the former that makes them heavy, and a corresponding lightness of 
 the voice on the latter, that keep up together this alternation of thesis 
 and arsis. Now as I said in one of my earlier lectures, the ligaments 
 of the larynx or vocal cords {cordcB vocales) are acted upon in different 
 ways, by various minute muscles of wonderful delicacy, connected with 
 the several cartilages I then enumerated. You will remember howl 
 then explained that they must be brought into a certain position in order 
 to produce sound or voice at all ; for in the ordinary state (\^hen we are 
 not desiring or attempting to speak) the air passes in and out of the 
 lungs through the vocal cords without producing any sound whatever 
 in a state of health. But when these vocal cords have been brought 
 into the vocalising position, their precise relation to each, and to the 
 breath which passes between them, must be so modified as to produce 
 all the varieties of high and low in the musical scale, as I have already 
 stated, at greater length, and this seems to be effected chiefly at least by 
 contracting or expanding, and so delicately modifying the size of the 
 aperture. Now it is by a regular action and reaction that these marvellous 
 vocal cords produce and keep up that alternation which is so well 
 termed /m^, or that regular succession of the heavy 2iW^ the light, which 
 is the foundation of all fluency and measure in speech, as well as in song. 
 This, then, is produced by a slight but decided action between the 
 thyroid and cricoid cartilages, which occasions an alternate tension and 
 relaxation of the vocal cords. 
 
 You will find that in many careful and elaborate works on the 
 anatomy and physiological functions of the larynx, this most important 
 action and reaction is overlooked, and it is only comparatively recently 
 that attention has been directed to it, especially by those who have given 
 their attention to the cure of stammering, and the removal of other 
 impediments of speech. The truth is that poise, or the regular alterna- 
 tion of heavy and light, has until the last thirty years been almost 
 entirely forgotten, alike by physiologists and the great majority of the 
 practical teachers of Elocution, as well as by those who have written 
 works on the subject. The natural consequence was that in consider- 
 ing the structure and physiology of the larynx, no notice whatever was 
 taken of the mechanism and action by means of which this alternation 
 is produced ; and yet without due attention to this point, the most 
 accurate and scientific anatomist and physiologist will not be able to 
 explain satisfactorily the other functions of the larynx. We ought to 
 have, and indeed must have, clearly before our minds, all the several 
 functions of that most wonderful, complex, and important organ to the 
 human race, and the various phenomena which have to be accounted 
 for, before we can be prepared to investigate its various parts and the 
 special action of each, by means of which the various functions are 
 performed, and each of the phenomena produced. Without these 
 distinctions being carefully borne in mind, we may possibly attempt 
 to explain one function, by reference to the means which are really
 
 Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTIOX. 237 
 
 employed to carry on another, and hence all kinds of mistakes may 
 arise. 
 
 Now, that such regular alternate action and reaction is in fact con- 
 tinually going on, may indeed be felt distinctly with the finger, if you 
 place it just between the thyroid and cricoid cartilages. Indeed, as Mr. 
 Thelwall truly said on the occasion I alluded to, this is wholly "distinct 
 from, and independent of, the varieties of loud and soft, forcible and 
 feeble, high and low in the musical scale, and long and short in regard 
 to the relative quantity of the syllables which form a bar in music or a 
 foot in verse : it continues to take place in the absence of sonorous 
 vibration, when the voice is hushed down to a mere whisper. Hence, 
 in the nature of things poise, or the alternation of heavy and light {thesis 
 and arsis), must be essentially distinct from acute and grave, io/ig and 
 s/iort, loud and soft. Insomuch that the heavy syllable may be either 
 long or short, acute or grave ; nay, although, cceteris paribus, the heazy 
 syllable is more forcible than the light, and, therefore, yi'/rZ/^/i^ might be 
 more naturally confounded with heavy than acute or lo7ig ; yet these 
 are really distinct — insomuch that, in the almost imperceptible interval 
 between a light syllable and the heavy one which naturally follows it in 
 the succeeding bar, the voice might drop from its loudest elevation to 
 a mere whisper, and yet the whispered syllable would still retain its 
 proper poise — it would still be heavy" 
 
 Many persons naturally carry out this poise admirably in delivery with- 
 out ever having had any instruction in Elocution, especially those persons 
 who are possessed of strong feelings, lively imaginations, and warm tem- 
 perament, and particularly when they are speaking in public, or reading 
 aloud any powerful descriptive or dramatic passage. Others, on the 
 contrary, who are of cold, lethargic, unimpassioned temperament, or 
 languid health, allow only the slightest amount of range of action and 
 reaction to be perceptible, and hence the poise is inadequately main- 
 tained, and the delivery in reading or speaking is poor, tame, and feeble, 
 void of all proper expression, and often accompanied with a tendency 
 to stammer or stutter. Indeed some of the worst cases of impediments 
 of speech among the pupils who have come to me for their removal, I 
 have found to arise chiefly from an almost total neglect from childhood 
 of this important function of the larynx in properly carrying out its 
 action and reaction or poise. The aim of the skilled and experienced 
 instructor in elocution should be in all cases, but especially such as I 
 have mentioned last, to show the pupil, by his own practical illustration 
 first, and then by the pupil carefully following out his instructions, how 
 the larynx can best be made to exercise the functions of action and 
 reaction effectively, and so properly carry out the poise, without which 
 all delivery must be ineffective, and neither poetry, blank verse, nor any 
 other kind of rhythmical structure can be rightly rendered, or proper 
 time in reading such' compositions truly observed. In fact, all English 
 verse is constructed, and must be pronounced, with a regular succession 
 and alternation of heavy and light syllables. No heavy sounds can 
 successively follow each other without a slight pause occurring between 
 them, the time of which might serve for the sound of a light syllable.
 
 238 
 
 A7NG'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. XIV. 
 
 Let us take the following signs, which my predecessor here used for his 
 pupils in the exercises which he made them go through in illustrating 
 the doctrine of the poise. This mark A shall signify the heavy syllables, 
 this .*. the light syllables, while an oviitted heavy syllable we will indicate 
 by this mark • , and an omitted light syllable by this o, and a vertical 
 line I shall be our time measurer, and separate the verse into its proper 
 bars. As I have said already, the natural order of verse, and of its 
 harmonious rendering in delivery, is from action to reaction, or from 
 pulsation to remission, that is, from heavy to light. It is certain that 
 the first bar of every line in poetry must have one syllable in thesis, or 
 a heavy syllable, and though it may be followed by two or more in arsis, 
 or light syllables (and perhaps, for the sake of simplicity and uniformity, 
 we had better henceforth speak only of syllables which are heavy and 
 those which are light), yet it is equally certain that tivo heavy syllables 
 cannot be contained in one bar. That which is called in poe'try common 
 measure, consists of bars of which each begins with a heavy syllable and 
 ends with a Hght one, as the following illustration from an old poet of 
 the seventeenth century will show us : — 
 
 Wit's per- 
 
 fection. 
 
 Beauty's 
 
 wonder 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A .•. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 Nature's 
 
 pride, the 
 
 Graces' 
 
 Treasure. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A ••. 
 
 Triple measure is so called because it consists of three syllables in 
 each bar, of which the first is heavy, and the two that follow in succession 
 light. A well-known couplet from Dryden's " Alexander s Feast " will 
 supply us with a good illustration — 
 
 The 
 • o .". 
 And the 
 
 prmces ap- 
 
 king seized a 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 A 
 
 d with a 
 
 furious 
 
 joy 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 A.'. .•. 
 
 A o 
 
 o 
 
 
 flambeau with 
 
 zeal to de- 
 
 1 stroy I 
 
 A .-. 
 
 
 A 
 
 ' 
 
 1 
 
 A oo 1 
 
 You will often find that a very pleasing and melodious variety of 
 rhythm is introduced by artistically uniting common with triple measure, 
 as well as by the judicious introduction of what are termed imperfect 
 measures. Now in reading these imperfect measures, as they are called, 
 remember that pauses (of which I shall have to speak more fully here- 
 after) must compensate or makeup the time, which the ///// measure 
 requires, for do not forget that pause is just as much an element of 
 rhythm as sound ; and bear in mind, also, that when you are reading 
 aloud poetry of which the accurate conveyance in delivery requires the 
 observance of rhetorical pauses, such pauses must occupy the full time 
 of the regular measure — that is to say, every heavy syllable must be 
 followed by either a light syllable or the time of one, and every light 
 syllable must either be preceded by a heavy syllable, or else the time 
 of the omitted syllable must be compensated for by a pause. Let us 
 take these lines in illustration of examples of pause, and of imperfect 
 measures : —
 
 Leg 
 
 r. XIV. 
 
 ] 
 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 
 Ye 
 • .*. 
 
 
 
 Ao 
 
 
 airy 
 
 A .•. 
 thou 
 
 Ao 
 dark 
 
 
 sprites 1 
 
 A o 1 • o 
 
 that with 
 
 • o Ao • .'. 
 
 dark dark | 
 
 wh 
 
 A 
 
 sur- 
 
 a- 
 
 D oft as 
 
 o A.' 
 passing 
 
 A .-. 
 
 mid the 
 
 fancy calls 
 A.-. A o 
 glory crowned 
 A.'. ,A o 
 blaze of | noon 
 
 
 Ao 
 Covei 
 
 A o 
 -ing the 
 
 A o 
 beach 
 
 
 A o 1 
 and 
 
 .-. A .•• 
 
 blackening 
 
 
 A 
 
 all the 
 
 '. 1 A o 
 strand. 
 
 
 A • 
 
 
 
 Ao 
 
 
 
 • •*• 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 A o 
 
 239 
 
 In pronouncing certain important or rhetorical words, as they are 
 sometimes termed — that is to say, the words with which the rhetorician 
 desires to make the most impression on his auditors — the heavy and 
 light percussion may, as Mr. Bell, a well-known teacher of Elocution in 
 Dublin, truly remarks, take place not unfrequently on one syllable ; the 
 time of the simple sound being, as it were, distinguished and extended 
 by a connected kind of swell and fall of the voice, as thus : — 
 
 1 Hail 
 1 A.-. 
 
 • 
 
 holy 
 A.-. 
 
 light 
 A 
 
 offsprin 
 A .. 
 
 gof 
 
 heaven 
 A .-. 
 
 first- 
 
 born 
 A.". 
 
 1 Brought 
 1 A 
 
 Death 
 A.-. 
 
 into the 
 A. .. 
 
 world 
 A 
 
 and 
 
 all our 
 A .-. 
 
 woe 
 A.". 
 
 Oh 
 A.-. 
 
 • 
 
 that th 
 A .•. 
 
 IS 
 
 too 
 A- 
 
 
 too 
 A--. 
 
 sc 
 
 li 
 
 d 
 
 fles 
 A 
 
 h 
 
 
 woul 
 
 d 
 
 melt 
 A.-. 
 
 The number of measures in a line, either caused by soimd or pause, 
 is immaterial, so that the ti/ne of each is regularly preserved. You 
 will also have noticed that the weight of the voice in reading these 
 illustrations has varied much in point of degree as it pronounced the 
 heavy syllables of the words. As a general rule, I may remark that a 
 greater degree of weight is given by the percussion of the voice on the 
 heavy syllables of nouns and ve7-bs than on the other words in a sentence, 
 as they are usually the most important. Indeed the latter must always 
 be considered as a rhetorical word ; for it is in fact what its origin 
 (iierbiini) imports, th^ word of the sentence, or that which (to quote 
 from Archbishop Trench's admirable book " On the Study of Words ") 
 constitutes, as it were, the soul of the sentence, and gives it all its power 
 and vitality. 
 
 Sheridan in his third lecture alludes to one fault which he says was very 
 common in his day among public speakers, and more especially among 
 actors on the stage, and that was making light syllables improperly heavy, 
 so that such persons, for instance, instead of saying " horror, nature, 
 
 A.-. A 
 delightful, forgiveness," as they ought to 
 
 .-. A .-. .-. A .-. 
 words thus — -"horror, nature, delightful, 
 
 AA A A A A A 
 
 do, would pronounce the 
 thereby im- 
 
 forgiveness, 
 AAA 
 
 projDerly making every syllable heavy. He asserts that in his time
 
 240 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 (1766), the chief fault of theatrical pronunciation consisted in this ; and 
 adds that, in his opinion, there can hardly be a greater fault in pro- 
 nunciation, for it is an offence against the very constitution of our 
 language. Has this fault ceased to exist among our present preachers, 
 speakers, or readers, or has it altogether passed away from our modern 
 actors and actresses ? 
 
 All persons, says Sheridan, who are tolerably well educated, and 
 pronounce English words properly, of course lay this weight (or accent, 
 as he and all other writers before Steele's time termed this percussion 
 of the voice) properly and on the right syllables and words, and do not 
 use it when it ought not to be employed ; and in conversation no faults 
 of this nature are commonly observable. But many, when they come 
 to read or speak in public, begin at once to transgress the rules of 
 poise as well as quantity, and light syllables are made heavy and short 
 vowels long. This arises from a mistaken notion, entertained by some, 
 that words are rendered more distinct to a large assembly by making 
 all the syllables of words heavy, and all the vowels that are short more 
 or less improperly long; and some would seem to think that it adds 
 to the solemnity and impressiveness of a sermon, speech, or recitation, 
 if everything is made different from what it properly ought to be and 
 usually is in private discourse. The elements of poise and quantity 
 may be intensified according to the strength of the emotion we have to 
 express, and the size of the area we have to fill with the voice, but never 
 violated by making light syllables heavy, and short syllables long. Any 
 error in this respect at once gives an artificial air to language so delivered 
 in public ; inasmuch as it differs from the usual, and what is called 
 natural, manner of utterance, and is on that account, of all others, to be 
 avoided most by public speakers, whose business it is industriously to 
 conceal all appearance of art ; and especially should this be avoided by 
 actors and actresses, whose very office it is, in Shakespeare's phrase, 
 "to hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature." If any one, says Sheri- 
 dan, pronounces the words "fortune, encroachment, conjecture, grati- 
 
 A .-. .-. A .-. .-. A .-. A.-. 
 tude, to-morrow, happiness, patience," as "fortune, encroachment, con 
 
 .-. .-.A .-. A.-. .-.A .-. AA AA A A 
 
 jecture, gratitude, to-morrow, happiness, patience," he does not use 
 
 A A AAA AA A AA AAA 
 words, at least English words, but disjointed syllables ; and yet this is 
 an error into which many persons fall when they desire to speak with 
 what they think to be becoming gravity and solemnity ; and all this is 
 done for want of knowing in what true solemnity of delivery consists, 
 which, though it may demand in point of time a slower utterance than 
 usual, yet requires that the same proportion, as regards poise and 
 quantity, be observed on the syllables, as is the case in musical notes in 
 an air which, however, may be played or sung in quicker or in slower time. 
 The true rule, and the only one, in my opinion, consistent with good 
 taste, is for all public speakers who can pronounce English properly to 
 lay the weight of the voice always on the same syllable, and the same 
 letters of the syllable, which they would in ordinary discourse, and to
 
 Lect. XIV.] ON elocution: 241 
 
 take special care that they do not lay any weight or stress upon any 
 other syllable, unless there be a reason for it, as when we desire to 
 suggest an antithesis ; as, for instance, when I say, " This is my book," 
 
 A 
 implying not yours or any other person's book, or, " and when you have 
 read it put it on the table," meaning, "and not under the table." This 
 
 4 
 
 is a rule so plain, simple, and easy to be remembered, that nothing but 
 affectation, or bad habits contracted from imitating others, can prevent 
 its always being observed and properly carried out. And yet the want 
 of knowing or attending to this rule is one of the chief sources of that 
 artificial mode of reading and speaking in public which is so often 
 observed, and which is so justly complained of by persons of refined 
 ear and cultivated taste. 
 
 On the whole, it may be said that there are few points in our language 
 so well settled as the question on what syllables in words the weight or 
 stress should be thrown. But still there are, it is true, some few words 
 that have occasioned disputes as to what syllable should receive the 
 stress or weight of the voice ; and of course, where reasonable doubt 
 exists, every man is at liberty to choose the mode of pronunciation 
 which seems to him the best ; and in giving the preference, the ear 
 ought, beyond all doubt, to be consulted as to that which is the most 
 euphonious mode of pronunciation. 
 
 It will be perceived, from what I have already said, how close is the 
 analogy between the rhythm of speech and that of song ; and in the 
 rhythmical illustrations which I have given of the former, it will be seen 
 that the principle on which they are divided into bars is essentially the 
 same as in the latter. In music, the strong accent, also called the 
 down-beat, always falls immediately after the bar-line ; and if we take any 
 melody, and desire to mark the accents or down-beats, we must draw a bar- 
 line before each strong or down-beat of the melody. Thus, whether we 
 sing a fine song, play a grand piece, recite a beautiful poem, or deliver 
 an impassioned oration, the rendering of all will fall naturally into bars, 
 and time may be marked and beaten to them all on the same principle ; 
 and whenever the true orator uses gesture, he does it unconsciously and 
 automatically, on this very principle. 
 
 In Mr. Herbert Spencer's third edition of his "System of Synthetic 
 Philosophy," * there is a most interesting chapter in the first volume en- 
 titled "The Rhythm of Motion," the whole of which will well repay the 
 most attentive perusal. But there is one passage in it, at p. 265, bearing 
 so closely upon the subject of this lecture, that I cannot refrain from 
 giving you the quotation at length. Mr. Spencer says : — 
 
 "A much more conspicuous rhythm, having longer waves, is seen 
 during the outflow of emotion into poetry, music, and dancing. The 
 current of mental energy that showsitself in these modes of bodily action 
 
 is not continuous, but falls into a succession of pulses Poetry is 
 
 a form of speech which results when the emphasis is regularly recurrent ; 
 that is, when the muscular effort of pronunciation has definite periods 
 
 * Williams & Norgate, London, 
 
 Q
 
 i^2 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. XIV. 
 
 of greater and less intensity — periods that are complicated with others 
 of like nature answering to the successive verses. Music in still more 
 various ways exemplifies the law. There are recurring bars in each of 
 which there is a primary and a secondary beat. There is the alternate 
 increase and decrease of muscular strain implied by the ascents and 
 descents to the higher and lower notes, ascents and descents composed 
 of smaller waves, breaking the rises and falls of the larger ones in a 
 mode peculiar to each melody. And then we have further the alterna- 
 tion of piano and forie passages. That these several kinds of rhythm 
 characterising aesthetic expression are not, in the common sense of the 
 word, artificial, but are intenser forms of an undulatory movement, habi- 
 tually generated by feeling in its bodily discharge, is shown by the fact 
 that they are all traceable in ordinary speech ; 7uhich in every sefitence has 
 its primary and secondary emphasis, and its cadence, containing its chief 
 rise and fall, complicated with subordinate rises and falls, and which is 
 accompanied by a more or less oscillatory action of the limbs when the 
 emotion is great." 
 
 The whole of this admirable chapter is well worthy the closest study, 
 and abounds in materials for thought and reflection. 
 
 As an exercise in the art of acquiring and properly maintaining poise, 
 or the distinction between words or syllables which are heavy and those 
 which are light when reading poetry or prose, I append the follow- 
 ing Illustrations, selected from a very useful little manual by Mr. R- 
 G. Parker, entitled " Progressive Exercises in Rhetorical Reading." * 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 HOHENLINDEN. 
 
 7 On 
 A/. 
 
 Linden 
 A .•. i 
 
 77 
 
 
 when the 
 A .-. 
 
 sun was 
 A .-. 
 
 low 
 A.-. 
 
 
 7 All 
 A.'. 
 
 bloodless 
 A .-. 
 
 77 
 A .'. 
 
 lay the un- 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 trodden s 
 A .-. I 
 
 now 
 
 77 
 
 7And 
 A.-. 
 
 dark as 
 A .'. 
 
 winter 
 A .-. 
 
 7 was the | flow 
 A .'. .•. 1 A/. 
 
 
 7 Of 
 
 A.-. 
 
 Iser 
 A.-. 
 
 rolling 
 A.'. 
 
 rapidly. 
 A .•. .•. 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 
 7 But 
 
 a:. 
 
 Linden 
 A .-. 
 
 77 saw an- 
 A .-. 
 
 other 
 A.'. 
 
 sigh 
 A/ 
 
 
 When the 
 A .'. 
 
 drum 
 A.". 
 
 beat 7 ^t 
 A.-. A.' 
 
 dead of i 
 . A/. 
 
 light 
 A .-. 
 
 7 Com 
 A.-. 
 
 - mandinf 
 
 A :^ 
 
 y fires of c 
 A .'. i 
 
 leath 
 
 7 to 
 A.'. 
 
 light 
 A.-. 
 
 
 7T 
 A 
 
 he 
 
 dar 
 A 
 
 mess 
 
 7 
 A 
 
 o 
 
 fl 
 
 ler 
 
 seen 
 A .' 
 
 ery 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 
 Allman, 463 Oxford Street, price is.
 
 Lect. XIV.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 243 
 
 7 By 
 
 A/. 
 
 Each 
 
 A.-. 
 
 7 And 
 
 A .'. 
 
 7 To 
 
 A/. 
 
 Then 
 
 A .•• 
 
 Then 
 
 A.-. 
 
 torch and 
 
 A .'. 
 horseman 
 
 A .-. 
 furious 
 
 A.-. .-. 
 join the 
 A .-. 
 shook the 
 
 A /. 
 rushed the 
 A .-. .'. 
 
 trumpet 
 
 77 
 
 fast ar- 
 
 rayed 
 
 A .-. 
 
 
 A .'. 
 
 A.'. 
 
 drew his 
 
 battle 
 
 blade 
 
 77 
 
 A .'. 
 
 1 A 
 
 
 A .• 
 
 
 
 77 
 
 77 I 7And 
 I A/. 
 Far flashed 
 A/. A/. 
 7And redder 
 
 dreadful 
 A .•. 
 h 
 L 
 
 c 
 I 
 
 louder than the 
 A .'. /. .'. 
 
 every 
 A.-. .-. 
 revelry, 
 A .-. ••. 
 
 charger 
 A .'. 
 
 77 
 
 neighed 
 A .'. 
 
 7 
 
 hills 
 
 7with 
 
 thunder 
 
 riven 
 
 A.-. 
 
 A.-. 
 
 A .•. 
 
 A.'. 
 
 steed ! 7 to 
 
 battle 
 
 driven | 
 
 A.-. 
 
 lA.-. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 
 A.-. 1 
 
 7 the 
 
 A.-. 
 
 yet 
 
 A/. 
 
 red 
 A/. 
 7 those 
 
 A ••. 
 
 bolts of 
 A .*. 
 7ar- 
 A.'. 
 
 heaven 
 A .'. 
 
 77 
 
 scarce 
 A.'. 
 
 A .'. A 
 
 7 On Linden's hills of 
 A .'. A .'. A /. 
 7 And darker yet 7 '^^^ 
 A /. A.'. A.-. A .'. 
 7 Of Iser rolling rapidly. 
 A.-. A.'. A.-. A.'..'. 
 7'Tis morn 77 7 but 
 A /. A .-. A .-. 
 
 7 Can pierce the war-clouds 
 A.-. A .-. A /. 
 7 Where furious Frank 
 A .'. A/..'. A.'. 
 77 Shout in their sulphurous 
 
 A .•. .'. A .'. .-. 
 7 The I combat deepens 
 A /. I A /. A .•. 
 7 Who rush to glory 
 A .•. A .'. A/. 
 Wave 77 
 A .'. 
 
 7 And charge 
 A .-. A ••. 
 Few few shall 
 A.'. A.-. 
 
 tillery. 
 A/./, 
 fires shall 
 A .*. 
 blood-stained 
 A .•. 
 be the 
 A.-. 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 glow 
 A/. 
 
 snow 
 A.", 
 flow 
 A.-. 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 yon lurid sun 
 
 A.". A/. A/. 
 
 rolling dun 77 
 
 .•./. A.-. 
 
 7 and j fiery j Hun 
 
 A .'. A."./. A.'. 
 
 77 
 
 canopy. 
 
 A .•. /. 
 On 
 A/. 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 7 ye 
 A/. 
 
 brave 
 A.". 
 
 77 
 
 Munich 
 
 A .-. 
 
 7 with 
 
 A .'. 
 
 part 
 
 A.'. 
 
 77 
 
 7 or the 
 A .-. .-. 
 all thy 
 
 A .'. 
 
 grave 
 A.". 
 
 banners 
 A.'. 
 
 77 77 
 77 
 
 wave 
 A.'. 
 
 all 
 
 A.'. 
 
 where 
 
 A.-. 
 
 7 thy 
 A .'. 
 many 
 A .-. 
 
 chivalry. 
 A /. .'. 
 
 meet 
 A/. 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 77 
 
 77
 
 244 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. XIV. 
 
 7 The 
 
 A /. 
 7 And 
 A .-. 
 
 7 Shall 
 A 
 
 snow 
 
 7 
 
 shall be their 
 
 winding 
 
 shee 
 
 h 1 ^*i 
 t' / / 
 
 A.-. 
 
 A .-. .-. .-. 
 
 A .'. 
 
 A.-. 1 ' 
 
 every 
 
 turf 
 
 7be- 
 
 neath their 
 
 feet 
 
 
 A.-..-. 
 
 A.-. 
 
 A.-. 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A.'. 
 
 
 be a 
 
 soldier's 
 
 sepulchre 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 
 .-.A 
 
 
 A .-. 
 
 A.- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 [The pupil will observe that prose as well as poetry is made up of similar measures 
 of speech. The only difference in sound, between poetry and prose, is tliat poetry 
 or verse consists of a regular succession of similar measures, which produce an 
 harmonious impression on the ear; while in prose the different kinds of measure 
 occur promiscuously without any regular succession. The following example affords 
 an instance of prose divided off into measures.] 
 
 Revelations, Chap. v. ir. 
 
 And I be- 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 round a 
 
 A .-. 
 
 held 
 A.-, 
 bout the 
 A .-. 
 
 77 
 
 7 and the 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 7 and I 
 
 A .'. .-, 
 
 throne 
 
 A.-. 
 
 number of them 
 
 A .-. .-. A 
 
 heard the 
 A .-. 
 7 and the 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 7 vvas 
 A .-. 
 
 voice of 
 A .-. 
 beasts 
 A .'. 
 
 ten 7 
 
 A .'. 
 
 many 
 
 A .-. 
 
 7 and the 
 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 thousand 
 
 A .'. 
 
 angels 
 
 A^•. 
 
 elders 
 
 7.-. 
 
 times 
 A.-. 
 
 ten 7 
 A .-. 
 
 thousand 
 A .-. 
 
 oud 
 
 A 
 
 voice 
 A.-. 
 
 7 and 
 A.-. 
 
 77 
 
 thousands of 
 A .-. .-. 
 Worthy is the 
 A .-. .-. .-. 
 
 thousands 
 
 A .-. 
 Lamb that was 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 77 
 
 Saving with 
 A .-. .-. 
 
 slain7 
 A .-. 
 
 7 to 
 A.-. 
 
 re 
 
 ceive 
 A.-, 
 strength 
 A .-. 
 
 power 
 A .-. 
 
 7 and 
 A .-. 
 
 7 and 
 
 A 
 
 honour 
 A .-. 
 
 7 and 
 A.-. 
 
 riches 
 
 A.*. 
 
 glory 
 A.'. 
 
 7 and 
 
 A.-. 
 7 and 
 A .-. 
 
 wisdom 
 A .'. 
 blessing. 
 A .-. 
 
 7 and 
 A .-. 
 
 [In the following extracts the marks of the accented and unaccented syllables are 
 omitted, but the bars and rests are retained. The usual punctuation is also restored ] 
 
 Part of the Ninth Chapter of St. John. 
 
 And as | Jesus | passed | by,7 | 7 '^"^ I saw a | man which was 
 blind from his | birth. | 77 I 77 I ^^'^ '""^^ d^^' I ciples | asked him, 
 saying, | Master, | who did | sin, | 7 this | man | 7 or his | parents, 
 that he was | born 7 | blind ? | 7 7 I 7 7 I Jesus | answered, | Nei 
 ther hath this | man | sinned | nor his [ parents : | 77 I ^^'^ ^'"'^'^t the 
 works of I God | 7 should be | made 7 | manifest in | him. 77 I 77 
 I must I work the | works of | him that | sent me, | while it is | day; 
 77 I 7 '■^^e I ^'ght I cometh | 7 when | no 7 | I'lian | can 7 | work.7 
 77 I 77 I 7 ^s I long I 7^s I I am in the | world, 7 | I | am 
 the 1 light I 7 of the | world. | 77 | 77 | When he had | thus 7 |
 
 Lect. XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 245 
 
 spoken, | 7 he [ spat on the | ground, 7 | 7 ^^^^ I i^i^de ] clay ] 7 of 
 the I spittle, | and he a- | nointed the | eyes7 | 7ofthe | blind | man 
 7 with the I clay,7 | 7 ^'^^ I ^^^^ yxnlo him, | Go, 7 1 wash in the 
 ])ool of I Siloam, | 7 7 I (which is, by in- | terpre- | tation, | Sent,) 
 7 717 717 -^^ went his | way, | therefore, | 7 ^nd | washed, 
 7 and I came | seeing. 1771771 
 
 7 The I neighbours, | therefore, | 7^'^'^ I they which be- | fore 
 had I seen him, | that he was ] blind, | 77 I ^^^^' 7 I ■'■^ "°^ I ^^'^ 7 
 he that | sat and | begged ? I 7 7 I 7 7 I Some | said, 7 I This | is 
 he ; I 7 7 i others | said, 7 I He is | like him : | 7 7 I 7 but | he 
 
 said they unto him, 
 77 I 7^^ I answered 
 
 said, 1 7 I I am I he. | 7 7 | 7 7 | Therefore 
 
 77 1 How I were thine | eyes | opened? | 77 
 
 and I said, | 7 A ] man | 7 that is | called | Jesus | made | clay, 
 
 7 and a- | nointed mine | eyes, | 7 and | said unto me, | Go to the 
 
 pool of I Siloam, | 7 and | wash : 7 1 7 7 I 7 ^^^ ^ 1 went and 
 
 washed, | 7 and I re- | ceived | sight. | 7 7 I 7 7 I Then | said they 
 
 unto him, | 77 Where | is he? | 77 | 7 | He | said, | 77 | I know 
 
 not. 177177 
 
 7 They I brought to the ] Pharisees | him that a- | fore time I 7 was 
 blind. 1771 ^"^ ^'^ ^^"^^ th^ I Sabbath | day 7 I 7 when | Jesus 
 made the | clay, | 7 and | opened his | eyes. | 7 7 I Then a- | gain 
 the I Pharisees | also | askedhim | howhehadre- | ceived his | sight. 
 7717 He I said unto | them, | 7 He | put 7 | clay 7 | 7 upon mine 
 eyes, | 7 and I | washed | and do | see. | 7 7 I 7 7 I T-herefore said 
 some of the | Pharisees, | 7 This | man is | not of | God, | 7 because 
 7 he 1 keepeth not the | Sabbath | day. | 7 7 I C>thers | said, 7 | How 
 can a | man that is a | sinner | do such | miracles ? | 7 7 I -^^"^ there 
 was I 7 a di- I vision a- | mong them. 17717717 'Th^Y ^^7 I unto 
 the I blind | man a- | gain, 717 71 ^^' hat j sayest j thou of him ? j 
 that he hath | opened thine ] eyes? | 77 I 7 He said, 7 I He is a | 
 prophet. 1771771 
 
 4. 
 Psalm cxxxix. 
 
 O I Lord, 7 I thou hast | searched me, j 7 and | known me. j 77 I 
 77 I 7 Thou I knowest my | down | sitting 1 7 and mine 1 up- 7 | ris- 
 ing ; 1 7 thou 1 under- | standest my | thoughts j 7 a- | far j off.7 | 7 I 
 77 I Thou 1 compassest my | path, 7 1 7 ^"d my | lying | down, 7 j 
 and art ac- [ quainted with j all my | ways. | 7 7 I -^or there is | not a | 
 word in my j tongue, | 7 but | lo, 7 j O 7 1 Lord, | thou 7 I knowest 
 it I alto- I gether. | 7 7 I 7 7 I Thou hast be- | set me | 7 be- | hind 
 and be- j fore, 7 I 7 ^"<i I ^^i<^ thine | hand up- j on me. 1771771 
 Such7 I knowledge is ] too | wonderful for | me : | 77 I ^^ is | high,7 | 
 7 I I cannot at- | tain unto it. | 7 7 I 7 7 I Whither shall I | go 7 | 
 7 from thy 1 spirit ? | 7 7 I 7 O'' I whither shall I | flee from thy | pre- 
 sence ? I 77 I 77 M^ ^ ^^' I ^^"^^ 7 I up into I heaven, | 7 7 I thou 
 art 1 there : | 7 7 I ^^ ^ I rn^^e my | bed in | hell, | 7 be- | hold, 7 
 thou art | there. | 77 I 77 1 -^^M take the | wings of the | morning, 
 7 and 1 dwell in the | uttermost | parts of the ] sea : | 7 7 I Even
 
 246 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV 
 
 there | 7 shall thy | hand 7 I ^e^d me, | 7 and thy | right 7 I '^arid 
 shall I hold me. 7 71771 ^^^ I ^^7' I Surely the | darkness shall 
 cover me : | 77 ^^"^^ ^^^^ I night 7 | 7 ^^^^^ ^^ I ^ig^*^ ^- \ t'O^^ "^^ 
 
 7 7 I Yea, I 7 the darkness | hideth not from | thee : | 7 7 I ^^^ the 
 night I shineth as the | day : | 7 7 I 7 the | darkness I and the 
 light 7 1 7 are I both a- | like | 7 to j thee. | 77 | 77 | 
 
 5- 
 
 Marco Bozzaris. 
 
 7 At I midnight, [ 7 7 M'^ ^^^ I guarded [ tent,7 [ 
 
 7 The I Turk j *1 was | dreaming | 7 of the | hour, | 
 7 When I Greece, [ 7 her | knee in | suppliance | bent, 7 I 
 
 7 Should I tremble | 7 at his | power; | 
 77 I 7-'-'^ I <^reams, | 7 through | camp and | court,7 | 7^^ I bore 7 | 
 7The I trophies | 7 of a | conqueror. | 
 
 In I dreams, | 7 bis | song of | triumph | heard ; | 7 7 1 7 7 I 
 Then 7 wore his | monarch's | signet | ring, | 7 7 I 
 Then 7 press'd that | monarch's | throne, | 77 I 7a | King;7 | 77 I 
 7As I wild his | thoughts,7 | 7 and | gay of | wing,7 | 
 
 7 As I Eden's | garden | bird.7 | 7 7 | 7 7 I 
 7 At I midnight, | 7 in the | forest- | shades, | 7 7 I 
 
 7 Boz- I zaris | ranged his | Suliote | band, | 7 7 I 
 True I 7 as the | steel | 7 of their | tried | blades, | 
 
 Heroes | 7 in | heart and ] hand ; | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 There had the | Persian's | thousands | stood,7 | 
 There | 7 bad the | glad 7 I earth 7 | drunk their | blood 7 | 
 
 7 I On I old Pla- | taa's | day : | 
 7 And I now, 7 | 7 tbere | breathed that | haunted | air 7 1 
 The I sons | 7 of | sires who | conquered | there, 7 1 
 7 With I arm to | strike 7 I 7 and | soul to | dare, | 
 
 7 As I quick7 1 77 I 7as I far as 1 they. 7 | 7 7 | 7 7 [ 
 
 7 An I hour pass'd | on ; 7 I 7 7 I 7 the | Turk a- | woke : | 7 7 I 
 
 That 7 I bright 7 | dream | 7 was his | last ; 7 I 7 7 I 
 7 He I woke, 7 | 7 to | hear his | sentry's shriek, 
 7 "To I arms! | 7 they | come! 
 7 He I woke, to | die | 7 niidst 
 7 And I shout, and | groan, and | sabre-stroke, 7 | 
 7717 And I death-shots | falling | thick and | fast 7 | 
 7 As I lightnings | 7 from the | mountain | cloud ; 7 I 7 7 I 
 7 And I heard, 7 | 7 ^^'ith | voice as | thunder | loud, 7 | 
 
 7 Boz- I zaris cheer his | band ; | 
 7 7 I "Strike 7 7 tiH the | last | armed | foe ex- ] pires, 7 I 7 7 I 
 Strike I 7 7 I 7 for your | altars | 7 and your | fires, 717 71 
 Strike | 7 for the | green | graves of your | sires, | 7 7 1 
 God 7 1 7 and your | native | land ! " 7 | 7 7 | 7 7 | 
 
 They [ fought, 7 | 7 ^i'^^ | brave | men, 7 | long and | well,7 | 7 7 
 7 They | piled that | ground | 7 ^vith | Moslem | slain,7 | 
 
 7 the I Greek,7 | 7the | Greek, 
 flame and | smoke, 7 |
 
 Lect. XIV.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION 
 
 24T 
 
 7 They | conquer'd, | 7 7 I 7 ^^^ S°2- I ^^•"'^ I fell,7 I 
 
 7 7 I Bleeding at | every | vein.7 | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 
 7 His few sur- | viving [ comrades 7 7 I ^^^ 7 I 
 
 7 His smile, | 7 when | rang their proud 7 | hurrah, | 
 
 And the | red 7 | field 7 | was | won ; 7 I 7 7 I 
 Then | saw in | death 7 | 7 ^^^^ I eyelids | close 7 | 
 Calmly, | as to a | night's re- | pose,7 | 
 7 Like I flowers at | set of sun. 7 I 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 
 6. 
 
 Antony's Oration over Caesar's Body. 
 
 7 7 I Countrymen ! | 7 7 I Lend me your | 
 Caesar, | 7 7 I ^'-'^ ^^ I Praise 1 him. | 
 
 Friends, | 7 7 I Romans, 
 
 , ears; I 77 I 77 I 
 7 I I come I 7 to I bury 
 
 771771 
 
 7 The evil, | 7 that | men | do, | lives | after them ; | 7 7 I 
 
 7 The good | 7 ^^ I oft in- | terred | 7 with their | bones : | 7 7 
 
 So let it I be I 7 with | Cssar ! | 7 7 I 7 The | noble | Brutus 1 
 
 7 Hath I told you, | Caesar | 7 was am- | bitious. | 7 7 I 
 
 If it I were so, | it was a | grievous | fault j | 7 7 I 
 
 7 And I grievously | 7 hath | Caesar | answered it. 
 
 Here, | under | leave of | Brutus | 7 ^ud the | rest, 
 
 7 (For I Brutus | 7 is an | honourable | man, 
 
 So are they | all, 7 | all | honourable I men ;) 
 
 Come I I 7 to I speak | 7 iu Ceesar's | funeral. 
 
 77 
 
 77 
 77 
 77 
 
 77 
 
 .771 
 1771 
 
 wept; 
 
 He was my [ friend, | 7 7 I faithful | 7 and | just to me : | 7 7 
 7 But I Brutus I says | he was am- | bitious ; | 7 7 I 
 7717 ^"<^ I Brutus I 7 is an I honourable | man. | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 He hath | brought | many | captives | home to | Rome, I 
 7 Whose I ransoms | 7 did the | general [ coffers | fill : | 
 7 Did I this I 7 i'^ I Caesar | seem am- | bitious ? | 7 7 I 
 When that the I poor have I cried, I 7 7 I Caesar hath 
 
 771 
 
 A Am- I bition [ 7 should be | made of | sterner | stuff. 
 7 Yet I Brutus | says | 7 be | was am- | bitious ; 
 7 7 I 7 -^"d I Brutus I 7 is an I honourable | man. 
 7 You I all did | see, | 7 that, | on the | Lupercal, 
 7 I I thrice pre- | sented him | 7 ^ I kingly | crown ; | 
 7 7 I Which he did I thrice I 7 re- I fuse. 17 717 Was I this am- ! 
 bition? I 77 I 77 I 
 
 .177 
 
 771 
 177 
 
 77i 
 
 177 
 177 
 
 7 Yet I 
 7 And 
 
 Brutus 
 
 I says 
 
 7 he I 
 
 he was am- | bitious ; 
 7 an I honourable 
 
 77! 
 
 man. 
 
 77 
 
 7 717^1 speak not | 7 to dis- 
 7 But I here | I am to | speak | 
 
 I prove I what | Brutus | spoke; 
 
 what I do I know. 17 717 7 
 7 You I all did | love him | once ; | 7 7 I '^ot without | cause : 
 What I cause with- I holds you I then, I 7 to I mourn for him ? 
 
 771 
 
 77 
 77
 
 248 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIV. 
 
 O I judgment, [771 thou art | fled to | brutish | beasts, 1771 
 7 And I men | 7 have | lost their | reason ! | 7 7 I 7 7 I ^^^^^ ^^'^^h 
 me : I 
 
 77 
 77 
 
 7 My I heart 7 I is in the | coffin | there | 7 with | Csesar; | 
 And I must | pause 7 | till it | come | back to me. | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 
 7 But 1 yesterday, | 7 the | word of | Caesar | might | 
 
 7 Have I stood a- | gainst the | world ! | 7 7 I "°''^ I hes he | there, | 
 
 7 717 -^""^ I J^one I so I poor | 7 to | do him | reverence. | 7 7 i 
 
 771 
 
 I masters ! | 7 7 I ^^ ^ ^^^^ ^i^" I pos'd to I stir [ 
 
 7 Your I hearts and | minds | 7 to | mutiny | and | rage, | 
 
 1 should do I Brutus | wrong, | 7 and | Cassius | 7 7 I wrong ; ] 
 
 7 7 I ^Vho, I 7 you I all I know, | 7 are | honourable | men. | 7 7 I 
 
 771 
 
 7 I I will not I do I them ] wrong : | 7 7 I 7 7 I I I rather | choose ] 
 7 To I wrong the | dead, 1 7 to | wrong my- | self | 7 and | you, | 
 Than I will [ wrong | such */ | honourable | men. | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 
 7 But I here's a | parchment | 7 with the | seal of | Caesar : [ 
 
 7 I I found it 1 7 in his ] closet ; | 7 7 | 'Tis his | will : j 7 7 | 
 
 Let but the | commons | hear | 7 this | testament, | 7 7 1 
 
 7 (Which, I pardon me, | 7 I I do riot | mean to | read) — ■ 
 
 7 7 I ^rid they would | go | 7 and | kiss | dead | Csesar's [ wounds, | 
 
 7 And I dip their | napkins | 7 iri his | sacred | blood; J 
 
 7 7 I Yea, I beg a | hair of him | 7 for | memory, | 
 
 7 And I dying, | 7 7 I mention it j within their | wills, | 
 
 7 7 I 7 I^e- I queathing it | 7 as a | rich 7 | legacy, | 
 
 Unto their issue. 17 71771 
 
 If you have | tears, | 7 pre- | pare to | shed them | now, | 77 1 77 I 
 7 You I all do I know | this | mantle : | 7 7 I ^ ^^" i niember f 
 7 The I first | time | ever ] Caesar | put it | on ; | 7 7 I 
 'Twas on a | summer's | evening | 7 in his | tent ; | 7 7 I 
 That I day | 7 he ] overcame the ] Nervii : | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 Look, I 7 i" I this | place | ran ] Cassius' | dagger [ through ! | 7 7 I 
 
 771 
 
 See what a ] rent | 7 the | envious | Casca | made : | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 Through | this | 7 the | well be- | loved | Brutus | stabbed, | 7 7 I 
 
 77 
 77 
 
 And as he | plucked his | cursed | steel a- | way 
 
 Mark 7 I how the | blood of | Ceesar | followed it ! | 7 7 | 7 7 
 
 This I 7 was the | most un- | kindest | cut of | all : | 
 
 7 717 ■'^or I when the | noble | Caesar | saw | him | stab, | 
 
 7 In- I gratitude, | 7 more | strong than | traitor's | arms, | 
 
 Quite I vanquished him : | 7 7 I then | burst his | mighty | heart ; 
 
 771 
 
 And in his ] mantle, | 7 7 I muffling up his [ face [771 
 Even at the | base of | Pompey's | statue, ]
 
 Lect, XIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 249 
 
 7717 (Which I all the ] while | ran | blood,) [ 7 7 | great | Caesar | 
 
 fell. I 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 
 O what a ] fall | 7 was | there, | 7 my | countrymen ! I 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 
 Then | I, | 7 ^^^ 
 Whilst 7 I bloody 
 
 you, I 7 3.nd [ all of us, | fell | down, 
 treason | flourished | over us. | 7 7 I 7 7 I 
 Oh ! I now you | weep ; | 7 7 I 7 ''^"^ I P^^' I ceive | 7 you I feel, | 
 7 The I dint of pity ; | 7 7 1 these | 7 ^^^ I gracious | drops, | 7 7 I 
 
 771 
 
 Kind I souls; | 77 1 ^^^'^a^ 1 weep you | 77 I when you but be- | hold 
 7 Our I Csesar's | vesture | wounded ? | 7 7 I 7 7 I Look you [ here ! 
 
 771771 
 
 Here is him- | self, | 7 7 I marr'd ] 7 as you | see, ] 7 by | traitors. | 
 
 77177! 
 
 Good I friends, | sweet | friends, ] 7 7 M^^ me not | stir you | up ] 
 7 To I such a I sudden | flood of | mutiny. | 7 7 I 
 7.7 I They that have | done this | deed, | 7 are | honourable : | 
 77 I What I private | griefs | 7 they | have, | 7a- 1 las! I | know not, ] 
 7 That I made them | do it : | 7 7 1 they are | wise, | 7 and | honour- 
 able. I 
 7 And I will 7 I 1^0 1 doubt, | 7 with | reason | answer you. | 7 7 I 
 
 771 
 
 7 I I come not, [ friends, ] 7 to ] steal away | 7 your | hearts ; | 7 7 I 
 
 I am I no ] orator, ] 7 as | Brutus is ; | 
 
 7 7 I I^'^t as you I know me | all, 1 7 a | plain | blunt | man, | 
 
 7 That I love my | friend ; | 7 7 [ 7 and ] that | they | know [ full | 
 
 well : 1 
 7 That I gave me [ public | leave | 7 to | speak of him. 17 717 7! 
 For I have | neither | wit, | 7 nor | words, | 7 nor | worth, ! 7 7 ! 
 Action, I 7 nor | utterance, | 7 nor the | power of | speech, | 
 7 To j stir I men's | blood. | 7 7 I 7 I only | speak | right | on : | 7 
 
 7! 
 7 I ! tell you I that | 7 which | you yourselves | 7 do | know ; | 
 
 7 7 ! Show you I sweet | Cssar's \ wounds, | 7 7 ! poor, | poor | 
 
 dumb j mouths, | 
 7 And 1 bid | them | speak | for me. ! 7 7 ! 7 7 I ^^t were | I [ Biu- 
 
 tus, I 
 7 And I Brutus | Antony, | 7 7 ! ^^'^^^^ "^^^^^ ^'^ ! Antony | 
 7 Would I ruffle | up your | spirits, | 7 7 ! 7 ^"d | put a | tongue | 
 7 In j every ] wound of | Cjesar, | 7 that should | move | 
 7 The I stones of | Rome | 7 to ] rise in | mutiny. | 7 7 ! 7 7 ! 
 
 The preceding examples, including both poetry and prose, it is 
 thought, will be sufficient to explain the principle embraced in this 
 lesson, entitled the " Measure of Speech." The pupil should endeavour, 
 in all his reading exercises, to form the sentences, whether of poetry or 
 prose, into measures, for the purpose of reading with facility and- with- 
 out fatigue. The pauses or rests which occur in the imperfect measures 
 will afford him an opportunity of taking breath at such intervals, that,
 
 250 RING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XIV. 
 
 in the words of a modern writer, "Reading will cease to be laborious, 
 and the sense will be rendered clear, as far as it is dependent on the 
 capital point of the distribution of time or measure." The principle 
 explained in this lesson, when well understood and judiciously applied, 
 will make the pupil acquainted with the nature of all the different kinds 
 of versification ; for he will perceive that all the varieties of poetry (or 
 verse) are dependent upon the regular succession of the various mea- 
 sures of speech. 
 
 On this subject the student may also read with considerable advan- 
 tage the Lecture on "Vocal Expression," delivered at the Royal 
 Academy of Music by Mr, Charles Lunn, on 17th May 1878.* 
 
 * Published by Lucas, Weber, & Co., 84 New Bond Street, price is. 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 LECTURE XV. 
 
 Emphasis — Definition of the term — Its use and abuse — Illustrations — Varying Degrees 
 of Emphasis — Selections for Practice — The Use of the Elements of the Forte and 
 Piano in Elocution, and their varying Degrees — Selections for Practice — The Shir 
 in Elocution — Its uses — Illustrations for Practice — Punctuation, Grammatical and 
 Rhetorical — General Rules for Rhetorical Punctuation — Various Requisites in good 
 Delivery — Expression, Attitude, Gesture — Orators of Antiquity — Plutarch's Anec- 
 dotes of Demosthenes and Cicero — Suggestions in reference to Attitude and 
 Gesture in Public Speaking — Mistakes to be avoided — Quintilian on Gesture — 
 Mr. Smart's Classification of Gesture — Erasmus Darwin on the Exoression of the 
 Emotions. 
 
 |N this Lecture I propose touching on several subjects, to all 
 of which attention is necessary in order to speak or read 
 correctly and effectively ; and the first of these to which I 
 shall direct your notice in that of Emphasis. What is 
 Emphasis in Elocution ? As I understand it, it consists in 
 giving a certain amount of prominence, which may vary greatly in degree, 
 to particular words, clauses, or sometimes, indeed, whole sentences, so 
 as to make them stand out, as it were, in rehef, or contradistinction to 
 others, either implied or expressed. Emphasis, judiciously given, points 
 out the precise meaning of a sentence, shows in what manner one idea 
 is connected with or arises out of another, gives point to the several 
 clauses of a sentence, and so conveys to the mind of the hearer, 
 thoroughly and fully, the entire meaning or import of the whole. A 
 long, involved, and complicated sentence may be made to appear 
 perfectly intelligible and perspicuous by the discriminating power of 
 Emphasis. But to do this rightly, it is requisite that the reader should 
 be perfectly acquainted with the exact construction and full meaning of 
 every sentence in the composition he is reading. The eye must be 
 trained to grasp (if I may venture on such an expression) the full 
 meaning of the passage at a glance, and thus the mind will constantly 
 be in advance of the voice. Dr. Enfield, nearly a century ago, most 
 truly remarked that without this habit is thoroughly acquired, it is 
 impossible to give those inflections and modulations of the voice and 
 that variety of Emphasis which nature requires : and it is for want of 
 this previous study, more perhaps than from any other cause, that we 
 so often hear persons read with an improper emphasis, or with no 
 emphasis at all, as a modern writer (the Rev. W. Cazalet) openly advo-
 
 252 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 cates as a correct mode of reading, but which must end in, and can 
 only be (I quote Dr. Enfield's own words), "stupid monotony." — No 
 doubt much study and pains are requisite in order to acquire in every 
 way an elegant and effective delivery in reading and speaking, and it 
 is only by close attention and constant practice that we can be able 
 with a mere glance of the eye to read any piece with good emphasis 
 and discretion. As I said at the close of my last Lecture, 71011ns 
 and verbs are almost always emphatical words in a sentence, but, 
 of course, the degree of emphasis to be given must dej^end on the 
 character and nature of the sentence, and is a question of taste and 
 judgment. 
 
 Emphasis, acording to Sheridan's definition, discharges in sentences 
 the same kind of office that the stress or weight of the voice does in the 
 syllables of words. As the latter is the link which ties syllables together 
 and forms them into words, so emphasis unites words together and forms 
 them into sentences or members of sentences. As stress or weight 
 dignifies the syllable on which it is laid, and makes it more distinguished 
 by the ear than the rest, so emphasis ennobles the word on which it is 
 given and presents it in a stronger light to the understanding. It may 
 be said in its several degrees to point out the various degrees of relation- 
 ship which words, when they are arranged in the form of sentences, bear 
 to each other, and the rank which they hold in the mind. Verse 
 addresses itself to the ear only ; emphasis through the ear to the under- 
 standing. The necessity of employing emphasis, and more especially 
 of observing proper degrees of emphasis, is so great that the true mean 
 ing of sentences cannot be conveyed without it : and, as we shall see, a 
 sentence may have as many different meanings as there are words in it, 
 by varying the place and the degrees of emphasis. 
 
 Simple emphasis serves merely to point out the plain, logical meaning 
 of a sentence, and addresses itself to the calm understanding ; but when 
 emphasis is accompanied by the inflections and modulation of emotion, 
 then it is sometimes termed complex ; and now not merely the intellect 
 but the passions and imagination are addressed. It is this latter use of 
 emphasis that chiefly gives hfe and spirit to discourse, and enables it to 
 produce its noblest effects and most important results. By this it is 
 (to condense Sheridan's remarks) that we have it in our power not only 
 to make others conceive our ideas as we conceive them, but to make 
 them also feel them as we feel them. By the use of simple emphasis, truths 
 may be conveyed and the understanding enlightened, if the hearer will 
 be at the pains of commanding his own attention. But by the judicious 
 use of the complex emphasis, the affections, passions, and imagination 
 are all aroused, and the attention of the hearer engaged by the delight 
 which accompanies the very act of attending. In the former the mind 
 is for the most part passive ; but in the latter its activity is aroused, and 
 it is conscious of that activity without any labour of its own : and this is 
 one of the chief reasons why dramatic representations, when performed 
 with truth and fidelity to nature, have ever exercised in all ages and 
 over all classes of mankind the most powerful influence, when, in wit- 
 nessing them (to quote the words of Horace) —
 
 Lect. XV.] ON elocution: 253 
 
 " Pectus inaniter angit, 
 Irritat, mulcet, falsis tenoiibus implet." 
 
 It is on the same principle that the powers of oratory are reckoned 
 amongst the noblest that belong to human nature, and productive of the 
 highest delight that the mind can receive. But as the powers of oratory, 
 whether displayed in the form of sermon, speech, or any other shape, 
 cannot be exerted at all without the right use of simple emphasis, or the 
 emotions of an audience excited, or their understandings enlightened 
 by or interested in what is addressed to them, without the use of this 
 complex emphasis, is it not to be greatly regretted that so little care 
 comparatively is taken in regard to the proper employment of these 
 varieties of emphasis in speaking and reading? This neglect too often 
 mars the effect of the former, and still more frequently of the latter, and 
 it is (to use Sheridan's own words) the chief reason why public speaking 
 is so unaftecting and public reading in general so disgusting. If the 
 young were only properly instructed in the proper use of emphasis, com- 
 plex as well as simple, and made not merely to understand, but feel, 
 what they read, the yet unsophisticated ear and the flexible organs of 
 voice and speech would be rendered capable of receiving, distinguishing, 
 and uttering all the variety of tones in their just proportions of inflection 
 and modulation. 
 
 Every man who is interested in any subject on which he is speaking 
 to a friend in private life, and clearly comprehends what he is saying, 
 never fails to lay the right emphasis on the right word. When, there- 
 fore, he is about to read, or repeat the words of others, or his own. in 
 public, he cannot adopt a better principle by .which to be guided, than 
 that laid down by Sheridan, which is in substance as follows : — Let him 
 only reflect on the place where he would lay the emphasis, supposing 
 these words had proceeded from the immediate sentiments of his own 
 mind in private discourse, and he will have an infalUble rule for 
 laying the simple emphasis right in all sentences the meaning of which 
 he clearly understands. This rule is so obvious, so plain, and so easy 
 to be observed, that it is astonishing to find so often and in so many 
 places as we do, such a neglect or improper use of emphasis in reading 
 and reciting. But the cause of this is easily explained. In teaching to 
 read by the eye, masters instruct pupils, of course, in the use of such 
 marks as are by type presented to the eye. Now, as in ordinary print- 
 ing there are no visible signs but letters, stops, and the marks of interro- 
 gation, exclamation, &c., and as the words are distinguished from each 
 other only by a greater distance between them than between the letters of 
 which such words are composed, and the different clauses of sentences 
 by the marks of commas, semicolons, and colons, the eye has no assis- 
 tance as regards inflection, modulation, poise, or emphasis ; and therefore 
 it is in these that the chief errors are committed, either by wrongly giving 
 them or scarcely giving them at all. It is true, whoever is told he ought 
 always to read a sentence with just the same elements of elocution that 
 should be employed in speaking it, need not have any visible niarks, 
 such as those I have used in this book for the purpose of aiding the 
 pupil in his practice of the selections which I have given in illustration
 
 2S4 AVyC'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 of the different elements of Elocution, provided only that he be master 
 of the right principles on which these elements should be employed. 
 But even this simple rule is so seldom inculcated, that there are few 
 comparatively who do not display mistakes in one or other of these 
 particulars, especially when they have to read or recite anything that 
 they think demands more than ordinary dignity or solemnity in delivery. 
 But with respect to emphasis, it is impossible to give it rightly unless 
 a man thoroughly comprehends the meaning of what he is about to 
 read ; and as this is somewhat difficTult to be done at sight, even after 
 long practice and experience on the part of the best readers, how much 
 less are we to expect it from such as are only learners, even under the 
 best instruction ; but least of all from those who are taught in such a 
 method as does not make this a necessary part of their instruction in 
 the art of reading aloud. May we not appeal to the experience of man- 
 kind, whether in general anything else be taught w^hen we are learning 
 to read but the right pronunciation of words and the due observance of 
 punctuation ; and does not many a person who has got only as far as 
 this think himself qualified to read anything aloud at sight ? All this 
 arises from a mistake into which men naturally enough fall who judge 
 of language only in its written state — in that " Mummy-like embalm- 
 ing " of ideas and emotions, which you may remember I told you in my 
 opening Lecture written language was termed by Wilhelm von Hum- 
 boldt. But the man who considers language in its original, its primary, 
 and its noblest state, as addressed not to the eye, but to the ear, will 
 find that the very life, the soul, the essence of speech consists in what 
 is utterly unnoticed in writing, viz., inflection, modulation, poise, and 
 emphasis : and as the man who attempts to pronounce words without 
 observing the law of poise, does not really utter words but syllables, so 
 the man who attempts to pronounce sentences without any emphasis 
 really does not utter sentences, but a succession of words ; or if by 
 courtesy such words may in a logical sense be said to form a sentence, 
 it is a lifeless one, for all the elements that should give it vitality are 
 wanting. So that in speech it may be truly said, words are the body ; 
 rhetorical and grammatical punctuation will give it shape and form, and 
 distinguish the several parts of that body ; but inflection, modulation, 
 poise, and emphasis are the nerves, blood, life, and soul which put it in 
 motion, and give it power to act, and influence the intellect and emotions 
 of those to whom such sentences are addressed. 
 
 If any one has fallen into this dull, lifeless mode of reading so much 
 complained of, and is anxious to free himself from an old and bad 
 habit and acquire a new and good one, I would advise him, if he has 
 any composition to read or recite in public, to reflect in what manner 
 and with what kind of inflection, modulation, and emphasis he would 
 point out the meaning if he were to deliver those words to his auditors 
 as proceeding from the immediate thoughts and sentiments of his own 
 mind ; and keeping this rule steadily in view, he cannot fail of finding 
 out the proper inflection and modulation of voice with which each 
 clause should be read, and the proper words on which the emphasis in 
 its various degrees should be laid. At first it may be well for him to
 
 I.ECT. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 255 
 
 mark the sentences with the signs used in this book to indicate the 
 various elements of Elocution, so that whenever he reads he may be 
 reminded of them by these visible marks ; otherwise he will be apt to 
 fall into his usual dull, monotonous manner of reading ; for it is rather 
 difficult at first to get out of long-established bad habits, and constant 
 self-watchfulness will for some time be required. Such a mode as this 
 which I have indicated is, I apprehend, the best and surest way of 
 eventually freeing ourselves from those faults which arise from the 
 defective manner in which we are too often taught and practised in the 
 art of reading aloud and reciting in early life. 
 
 As regards the Physiology of Emphasis, it is the result of a more 
 powerful action of that part of the mechanism of the larynx which gives 
 the weight of the voice to the syllable that should receive it in words, 
 and makes it properly heavy, as I explained in my preceding Lecture. 
 To judge from the stiff, ungainly, rigid manner in which some speakers 
 and readers keep their necks, one would almost be induced to imagine 
 that they thought emphasis could be given by the mouth alone, and 
 that the larynx had nothing to do with its production ; whereas it is 
 essentially by an intenser action of the mechanism of the larynx on the 
 syllable that is in thesis, or heavy, that it is made more heavy, and so 
 becomes the emphatic word ; and the wider the latitude of movement 
 of the neck, the greater the momentum acquired, and consequently the 
 more powerful the emphasis. We have but to watch an impassioned 
 orator to see how the vigorous movements of the neck intensify the 
 emphasis : but, if you desire to see an illustration of this in its fullest 
 extent, the next time you take a Continental holiday, and happen to 
 witness a quarrel between two or more Frenchmen, Itahans, or 
 Spaniards of the lower orders, where little restraint is put upon the 
 expression of the passions, just observe the wide-ranging and powerful 
 movements of the larynx, neck, arms, and body generally, as they abuse 
 each other, and consequently the tremendous emphasis that falls upon 
 the oaths, curses, and vile language that are shot, as it were, from their 
 infuriated lips. But of course, when we, as a matter of art, in some 
 highly emotional speech or recitation, desire to give powerful emphasis 
 to powerful language, we must take especial care to remain masters of 
 the emotion, and not to be carried away by it, or we shall soon become 
 breathless and inarticulate, as we often find to be the case when men 
 are under the influence of ungovernable passion ; and so the orator's 
 and actor's art must be to allow proportionate pauses, during which they 
 may thoroughly replenish the lungs, and never neglect the proper 
 control of the breath in the act of expiration. In the words of Hamlet, 
 we must, in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind 
 of our passion, acquire and beget a temperance that may give it 
 smoothness. 
 
 I have shown, I hope, already sufficiently in previous Lectures, how 
 much opposite inflection and modulation bring out the meaning of 
 antithetic words and clauses in a sentence. The judicious introduction 
 of emphasis on such words or clauses will add greatly to the power of 
 the antithesis. You will find in Pope's " Essay on Man," and also in
 
 256 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 his beautiful " Moral Essay's," many admirable passages for exercises on 
 emphasis ; and the whole Book of Proverbs abounds in illustrations and 
 examples for practice. In some instances the antithesis is double, and 
 even treble, and this must be rendered apparent to the hearer by the 
 reader giving not merely opposite inflection and modulation, but also 
 due emphasis on each important word of the antithesis. We may take 
 the following sentences as illustrations. 
 
 '■'• Anger msiy glance into the hearts of the wise ; but rests only in the 
 bosom oifoois.^' 
 
 "An angry man, who sztppj-esses his passion, thinks worse than he 
 speaks : and an angry man that will chide, speaks worse than he thinksP 
 
 Emphasis also serves to express some particular meaning, not directly 
 arising from the words, but depending upon the intention of the reader 
 or some accidental circumstance. The following short sentence, — Do 
 you intend to go to London this summer? — may have three different 
 meanings, according to the different place of the emphasis : as — 
 
 V)o you intend to go to London this summer? 
 Do you intend to go to London this summer? 
 Do you intend to go to London tliis summer'^ 
 
 Here the question, as first marked, inquires whether the person spoken 
 to will go to London this summer : as secondly marked, whether London 
 is the place to which the person spoken to will go this summer : and, as 
 thirdly marked, whether this summer is the time at which the person 
 spoken to will go to London? 
 
 In order to acquire a habit of speaking with a just and forcible em- 
 phasis, nothing more is necessary than previously to study the con- 
 struction, meaning, and spirit of every sentence, and to adhere as nearly 
 as possible to the manner in which we distinguish one word from another 
 in conversation ; for in familiar discourse we scarcely ever fail to express 
 ourselves emphatically, and seldom place the emphasis improperly. 
 
 The most common faults respecting emphasis are laying so strong an 
 emphasis on one word as to leave no power of giving a particular force 
 to other words, which, though not equally, are in a certain degree 
 emphatical ; and placing the greatest stress on conjunctive particles, 
 and other words of secondary importance. These faults are strongly 
 characterised in Churchill's censure of Mossop the actor. 
 
 With studied improprieties of speech. 
 
 He soars beyond the hackney critic's reach. 
 
 To epithets allots emphatic state, 
 
 Whilst principles, ungraced, like lacqueys wait : 
 
 In ways first trodden by himself excels, 
 
 And stands alone in indeclinables ; 
 
 Conjunction, preposition, adverb, join 
 
 To stamp new vigour on the nervous line : 
 
 In monosyllables his thunders roll. 
 
 He, she, it, and, we, ye, they, fright the soul.
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 257 
 
 It must be remembered, however, that there are other means by which 
 words may be rendered emphatic or prominent, besides that special 
 weight or stress of the voice which is the general but Hmited sense in 
 which the word emphasis is understood. I have already indicated how 
 words or clauses may be rendered full of significance and power by 
 appropriate change of inflection and modulation. Emphatic prominence 
 may also be effected by change of time, that is, either by a prolongation 
 of the sound of the word or by an abbreviation of it, and" this, in com- 
 bination with a change of key, is often used in passages where irony, 
 sarcasm, &c., are the characteristics. Mr. D. C. Bell, a well-known 
 teacher of Elocution in Dublin, also says (in a work on the subject to 
 which I have alluded before), that emphatic prominence may also be 
 truly given to words or clauses (and I quite agree with him) : — By 
 Aspiration — in which the voice becomes harsh, broken, or whispering. 
 It is used to express fear, terror, disgust, horror, &c. By Monotone — 
 by prolonging the voice on one key with limited variety of inflection. 
 It is employed to give expression to dignified or sublime passages. By 
 Pause — by separating the emphatic word from those parts of the sen- 
 tence that precede and follow it. This is the most important of these 
 various modes, as it may be employed in combination with all the others ; 
 and as it affords great relief and power to the speaker, by enabling him 
 to replenish his lungs with air before and after its use. The only rule 
 that can be given for distinguishing the words that should receive em- 
 phasis is, to place it on those that directly convey the meaning, or that 
 denote the antithesis : the parts of a sentence charged with the greatest 
 degree of sense, should be pronounced with the greatest prominence. 
 The various kinds of emphasis mentioned above may be employed on 
 any kind of composition, but subject to the nature of the sentiment that 
 is to be expressed. 
 
 Emphasis, generally, may be divided into two kinds. Emphasis of 
 Sense and Emphasis of Eeeling, or Simple and Complex, as termed by 
 Sheridan. 
 
 Emphasis of Sense determines the meaning, and, by a change of its 
 position, varies the sense of the passage. 
 
 Is your friend dead ? Do you ride to town to-day ? Could you wish 
 me to think unkindly ? 
 
 Emphasis of Feeling is suggested and governed by emotion : it is 
 not strictly necessary to the sense, but is, in the highest degree, expres- 
 sive of sentiment. 
 
 Could you be so cruel ? That sacred hour can I forget ? 
 Then miisi the Jew be merciful. 
 On what compulsion jnnst I ? tell me that. 
 
 When the emphasis is accumulated, or heaped successively with 
 increasing energy, pi-ogressive force is given to the meaning. 
 
 I have thus shown, from the gentleman's own argument, that the 
 doctrine advanced by him is not at present received ; that it never was 
 received; that it never can by any possibility be received; and that, if 
 admitted, it must be by the total subversion of liberty itself 
 
 You blocks I you stones 1 you worse than senseless things ! 
 
 R
 
 2S8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 STACCATO FORCE. 
 
 When several words in succession are accented and separated by brief 
 emphatic pauses, a kind of general emphasis is formed, called Staccato. 
 
 I 1 I I 1 t I .1 
 
 How ! will you tell me you have done this ? 
 1 1 1 i 
 What men could do 
 
 1 1 II. .1 
 
 Is done already : heaven and earth will witness, 
 t 1 t t 
 
 If Rome must fall, that we are innocent. 
 
 I referred a short time ago to the opinions held on the subject of 
 emphasis by the Rev. W. Cazalet, and maintained by him at some 
 length in a work he has recently published " on the voice " which is in 
 many respects very valuable, but here I cannot say I at all agree with 
 him. In discussing this part of Elocution, Mr. Cazalet says, " The 
 method of delivery generally adopted is one based upon a system of 
 emphasis. Now the effect of an emphasis on any one word is to weaken 
 the force of the others. By making one word prominent, the full mean- 
 ing is in a manner lost, for the whole sentence is important, not the mere 
 word. Moreover, the emphasis must often be on parts of words, for it 
 can only be given on one syllable and so weakens the power of the 
 whole. The system of emphasis resolves itself into an effort to produce 
 effect by accenting words which in reality have no more force than 
 others in the same sentence. Hence it has become a monstrous abuse 
 in delivery ; for the speaker or reader, feeling that each word has a force 
 or power, gives at length an emphasis on so many that all expression is 
 lost. The effect upon the hearer is perhaps not so severely felt in 
 speaking as in reading. But the sensation produced by emphasis on 
 emphasis, is perhaps more wearisome even than monotony. 
 
 " Now the two principal causes of bad speaking and reading are 
 monotony and emphasis. I have already shown how monotony may 
 be relieved. I now proceed to consider how emphasis may be avoided, 
 and for this purpose it will be necessary to give my rules for delivery. 
 
 " My system is based on a theory of pauses, as entirely opposed to 
 and disposing of emphasis. A pause on a word gives a point to that 
 word on delivery, and the sentence that follows is made prominent by 
 the pause. A sentence therefore spoken or read with the full quality 
 and continuous flow of the voice, and with the pause made in right 
 places, will necessarily have all its force and meaning, and this without 
 the least effort, which is the very essence of emphasis. An emphatic 
 delivery is one continued straining after effect. My theory of pauses, 
 on the contrary, necessarily divides each sentence into its component 
 parts, and each pause in delivery, while giving point to its own phrase, 
 necessarily brings that which follows into prominence. In the one case 
 the individual aims at the effect ; in the other the system itself produces 
 it. The emphasis is, as a consequence, artificial, the pause natural ; the 
 inference is inevitable ; the emphasis must yield to the pause as an 
 element in delivery."
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 259 
 
 So far I have given you Mr. Cazalet's own words. He then 
 proceeds to argue that the verb is always the principal word in a 
 sentence, and should be marked by a pause after it. 
 
 Now I am far from undervaluing the importance of pauses in their 
 proper places. I think their effect after any chief word, be it noun, 
 verb, adjective or pronoun, most striking; and after any fine simile, 
 noble metaphor, or other beautiful passage, a pause of some duration 
 adds marvellously to the weight and power with which it falls on the 
 ears of an audience, sinks into their hearts, and fixes itself in their 
 memories. But I cannot admit that pauses are to be entirely sub- 
 stituted for emphasis. Let any one try to read such a passage as that 
 in which King Lear curses his unnatural daughters, giving no emphasis 
 or stress to a single noun or verb in it, but merely pausing after every 
 verb, and see what the effect would be ! The injudicious abuse of a 
 good thing is no argument whatever against its use, and I confess Mr. 
 Cazalet's arguments seem to me to have weight only as against the 
 abuse oi emphasis by injudicious readers and speakers. Nature and art, 
 I hold, are equally strong here, as supporters of the use of proper 
 emphasis in right places as one of the chief means of expression. 
 
 No one can listen to a first-rate reader, speaker, or actor, without 
 noticing that there is a great variety in the degrees of emphasis which 
 he gives to the various words that he pronounces, the importance of 
 the idea conveyed by the word being the standard by which the degree 
 of emphasis is regulated. For the purposes of practice, these degrees 
 are usually divided into primary, secondary, and tertiary ; the primary,, 
 or most important, being signified by the largest capitals, the secondary 
 by smaller capitals, and the last by italics. Let us take, as an illustra- 
 tion of this, Hamlet's famous Soliloquy, and his address to the Players : 
 
 To BE — or NOT to be that is the question 
 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 
 The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune 
 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles 
 
 And — by opposing — e7id them ? To DIE ? — To sleep 
 
 No more — and by a sleep to say we end 
 
 The heartache and the thousand natural shocks 
 
 That flesh is heir to 'Tis a consummation 
 
 Devoutly to be wished To die to sleep — 
 
 To SLEEP ! Perchance to DREAM !— Ay, there s the rub- 
 Tor in THAT sleep of death what dreams may come, 
 
 When we have shuffled off this mortal coil ■ 
 
 Must give us pause There's the respect 
 
 That makes calamity of so long a life. 
 
 For who would bear the whips, and scorns of time- 
 
 The oppressor's wrong the proud man's contumely- 
 
 The pangs of despised love the law's delay 
 
 The insolence of office — and the spurns 
 
 That patient merit of the ufiworthy takes 
 
 When he hifn self itih^i his quiettis make
 
 26o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 With a bare bodkin ? Who would fardels bear, 
 
 To grunt and sweat under a weary life 
 
 But that the dread of something after death 
 
 That undiscovered country — from whose bourn 
 
 No traveller returns puzzles the tvill 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
 Than fly to others that we know not of. 
 
 Thus CONSCIENXE does make cowards of us all ■ 
 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought — 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment 
 With this regard their currents turn awry 
 And lose the name of action. 
 
 Speak the speech — I pray you — as I pronounced it to you trip- 
 pingly on the tongue But if you mouth it — as many of our players 
 
 do — I had as lief the tozan-crier spoke my lines Nor do not sa70 the 
 
 air too much with your hand thus but use all gently for in 
 
 the very tor?-e?it tempest — and — as I may say whirlwind of your 
 
 passion you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it 
 
 smoothness Oh ! it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious 
 
 — periwigpated fellow tear a passion to tatters — to very rags to 
 
 split the ears of the groundlings who — for the most part — are 
 
 capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows and 7ioise 1 
 
 would have such a fellow whipped for derdoing Termagant it 02it- 
 
 Herods Herod Pray you avoid it Be not too ta?ne — neither 
 
 but let your ouni discretion be your tutor suit the 
 
 action to the word the word to the action with this special 
 
 observance that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature • 
 
 for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing whose end 
 
 both at the first — and now 7C'as and is to hold — 
 
 as 'twere — the mirror up to nature to show virtue — her own 
 
 feature scorn — her own image and the very age and body of the 
 
 timehxsfor?n a.nd pressure Now this overdone or come tardy 
 
 off though it make the ^//skilful laugh cannot but make the 
 
 judicious — grieve the censure of which one must in your 
 
 allotuance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others Oh ! there 
 
 he players — that I have seen play and heard others praise and 
 
 that highly not to speak it profa7iely that neither having the 
 
 accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian — pagan — nor 
 
 MAN have so strutted and bellow^ed that I have thought 
 
 some of Nature's journeymen had tnade men and not made them 
 
 WELL- they imitated humanity so ABOMINABLY And 
 
 let those that play your clonuis speak no more than is set down for them 
 
 for there be of them that will themselves laugh to set on 
 
 some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too though — in the 
 
 m.eantime some necessary question of the play be then to be 
 
 considered that's VILLANOUS and shows a most pitiful 
 
 ambition in the fool that uses it.
 
 Lect. XV.J on elocution. 26£ 
 
 As regards another element in expression, viz., the rise and fall of the 
 voice in regard to power, or, in other words, the crescendo and diminuendo 
 of the voice, in speech as in song, we may take the following signs and 
 illustrations for practice, for which I am indebted to a member of the 
 University of Cambridge. If read according to the following instruc- 
 tions, they will be found useful exercises as regards the power of acquir- 
 ing a good command of the voice over these two important adjuncts to 
 expression in impassioned delivery. 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS. 
 
 Words printed in ordinary type (as used in these instructions) are to 
 be read in the ordinary tone of voice. Small capitals denote that the 
 voice is to be slightly raised ; medium-sized capitals denote an increase 
 in vehemence of expression, whilst words printed in the thickest capitals 
 are to be delivered with the full power of the voice. The three kinds 
 of capitals thus form an increasing or crescendo scale. The diminishing 
 or di?ninuendo scale is formed by the two sizes of type smaller than the 
 ordinary. The largest of these denotes that the voice is to be lowered 
 in tone, and the smallest type denotes a still further decrease in 
 intensity. 
 
 In general, crescendo passages are to increase in rapidity of utterance 
 as well as vehemence with each successive word, till the climax is 
 reached : on the other hand, diminuendo passages are to decrease in 
 rapidity and intensity with each successive word, till the voice sinks 
 almost to a whisper, the last word, however, being distinctly audible. 
 
 The following signs are employed : — 
 
 < before a crescendo passage. 
 ^ before a diminuendo passage. 
 These signs affect all the words they precede, to the next full stop. 
 
 — signifies a pause, equivalent in duration to a full stop. 
 "= signifies an abrupt termination. 
 
 — signifies that the passage following it is to be read slowly, 
 
 but without lowering the voice. 
 Italics, in ordinary type, denote emphasis, without raising the voice. 
 
 1 STOP = for thy tread — is on — an Empire's — dust. — 
 An EARTHQUAKE'S spoil — is sepulchred below 
 WHAT = < Is the spot marked — by no colossal bust? 
 Nor column trophied for triumphant show? 
 
 NONE = Yet the moral's truth — tells simpler so. 
 As the ground was — so let it be. 
 < And is THIS all — the world has gained by thee, 
 lihou first and last of fields, — king-making victory ? 
 
 2 What man dare, / dare, — 
 
 << Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
 The aj-vied rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, — 
 Take any shape but THAT, and my firm nerves
 
 262 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 Shall never tremble. — < Or be ALIVE again, 
 And dare me to the desert with thy sword 
 If trembling I inhibit, THEN PROTEST ME 
 THE BABY OF A GIRL. 
 
 3 " But still NO peace, for the lifeless clay 
 
 Will wave or mould allow. 
 < The horrid thing pursues me STILL, 
 XT STANDS BEFORE ME NOW.=" 
 ~^ The fearful boy looked up, — and saw — 
 Huge drops — upon his brow. 
 
 4 Then came wandering by 
 
 A shadow — like an angel — with bright haii — 
 
 Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud, — ■ 
 
 " CLARENCE IS COME,— FALSE,— FLEETING,— PERJUR'D 
 CLARENCE 
 
 "THAT STABB'D ME ON THE FIELD BY TEWKESBURY. 
 
 "SEIZE ON HIM FURIES,— TAKE HIM TO YOUR TOR- 
 MENTS." 
 
 5 Cannon to right of them, — 
 Cannon to left of them, — 
 Cannon behind them 
 Volley'd and thunder'd. 
 Storm'd at with shot and shell, 
 — While horse and rider fell, 
 < They that had fought so well, 
 Came through the jaws of death, 
 BACK FROM the MOUTH OF HELL,= 
 All that was left of them, — 
 
 ^> Left — of six hundred. 
 
 6 ^^ Then the third day after this, — 
 
 While Enoch slumbered — motionless and pale, — 
 And Miriam watched, — and dozed, — at intervals, 
 < There came so loud a calling of the sea. 
 That all the houses in the haven RANG. — 
 He woke, — he ROSE, — he spread his arms abroad, 
 Crying WITH A loud VOICE ; — "A SAIL, — A SAIL, — 
 I AM SAVED-I AM SAVED. = 
 
 ^^ And so fs^^ back, — and spoke no more. 
 
 7 DosT thou come here to whine ? 
 
 To OUTFACE me by leaping in her grave? 
 
 > Be BURIED QUICK WITH HER, and so will / 
 
 And if thou prate of Mountains, — let them throw 
 
 Millions of acres on us, < till our ground 
 
 Singeing his pate, against THE BURNING ZONE, 
 
 MAKE OSSA LIKE A WART.^Nay, an' thou It mouth 
 
 /'// RANT as well as tliou.
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 263 
 
 In opposition to emphasis, we have in Elocution an element which is 
 termed the slur. It is such a management of the voice in reading or 
 speaking as is opposed to emphasis. It will be remarked in general that 
 when a word or clause of a sentence is pronounced with any degree of 
 emphatic power it is usually louder, and the inflection is more noticeable 
 from the duration of the vowels being rather longer than ordinary. When 
 a clause or sentence is technically said to be shirred, it is meant that 
 it is intended to be read in a different tone of voice, usually lower, more 
 rapidly as regards time, not so forcibly as regards power, and with sub- 
 dued inflections on the words so slurred. In the illustrations for practice 
 which follow, the words which receive the chief emphatic force are printed 
 in capitals, whilst the parts which are intended to be slurred axe: printed 
 in italic letters. The judicious introduction of the slur will add much 
 to the beauty and expressiveness of delivery, particularly where there 
 are great number of parenthetic, explanatory, or subordinate clauses 
 or details. The slur forms, as it were, the background, which throws 
 into strong relief the more important w^ords and clauses, and so adds 
 greatly to the clearness of its meaning, and general power of expression. 
 
 Illustrations for Practice. 
 
 1. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more : By Sinel's death, I 
 know I am thane of Glamis ; but how of Cawdor ? The thane of Cawdor 
 lives, a prosperous gentleman ; and to be king stands not within the pros- 
 pect of belief, no more than to be Cawdor. Say, from WHENCE jF(?« 
 otve this strange intelligence 2 or WHY upon this blasted heath you stop our 
 way with such prophetic greeting ? 
 
 2. PRIME CHEERER, LIGHT ! of all material beings FIRST 
 AND BEST ! EFFLUX DIVINE ! NATURE'S RESPLENDENT 
 ROBE ! without zvhose vesting beauty all were wrapt in unessential gloom ; 
 and THOU, O SUN ! SOUL of surrounding WORLDS ! in whom best 
 seen shines out thy Maker / — may I sing of thee ? 
 
 'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, as with a chain indissoluble 
 bound, thy system rolls entire ; from the far-bourn of utmost Saturn, 
 wheeling zvide his round of thirty years, to 'M.Qrc\xxy,%iihose disk can scarce 
 be caught by philosophic eye. lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 
 
 3. But yonder COMES the powerful KING OF DAY, rejoicing in the 
 east. The lessening cloud, the kijidling azure, and the mountain's brow 
 illumed with fluid gold, his near approach betokeri glad. LO, NO^V 
 APPARENT ALL, aslant the de7v- bright earth atid coloured air, he looks 
 in boundless MAJESTY abroad, and sheds the shining day, that bur- 
 nished plays on rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams, 
 HIGH-GLEAMING from afar. 
 
 4. THOU, glorious mirror, where the Almighty'' s form glasses itselj in 
 tempests ; in ALL time, calm or convulsed, in- breeze or gale or stortn, icing 
 the pole, or in the torrid clime dark-heaving, BOUNDLESS, ENDLESS 
 and SUBLIME — the image of Eternity — the throne of the Invisible ; 
 even from out thy slime, the monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
 obeys thee— thou goest forth, DREAD, FATHOMLESS, ALONE.
 
 264 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 CENTRE OF Light and energy ! thy way is through the unknown 
 void ; thou hast thy throne, morning and evening, and at noon of day, 
 far in the blue, untended and alone : Ere the first-wakened airs of 
 earth had blown, on didst thou march, triumphant in thy light. Then 
 didst thou send thy glance, which still hath flown wide through the never- 
 ending 7C'orlds of night ; and yet thy full orb burns with flash unquenched 
 and bright. 
 
 In thee, FIRST LIGHT, the bounding ocean smiles, when the 
 quick winds uprear it in a swell, that rolls in glittering green arowid the 
 isles, ivhere ever-springing fruits and blossoms dwell. 
 
 THINE are the MOUNTAINS,— w/^^r^ they purely lift S7wws that 
 have never wasted, in a sky which hath 710 stain ; beloiu the storm may drift 
 its darkness, and the thunder-gust roar by ; ALOFT, in thy eternal smile, 
 they lie, DAZZLING but COLD ;— thy farewell glance looks there, and 
 when below thy hues of beauty die, girt round them as a rosy belt, they 
 bear into the high, dark vault a brow that still is fair. 
 
 I have now to ask you to consider the uses of, and the effects produced 
 by, those suspensions of all vocal sound during a perceptible, and in 
 numerous forms of composition, especially Poetry, a measurable space 
 of time, which occur in reading and speaking; and which may be 
 termed Rhetorical Punctuation. To the speaker and to the hearer, 
 such pauses in the utterance of language are equally necessary : to the 
 former, that he may take breath, and replenish the amount of air in his 
 lungs, without which he cannot proceed far in his reading or speaking, 
 any more than he could do in singing ; and to the latter, that the ear 
 may be relieved from the fatigue of listening to a continuous and 
 uninterrupted flow of sound ; for the organs of hearing, like those of 
 voice and speech, require these temporary rests, brief though they may 
 be, in order to carry on their several functions easily and without fatigue. 
 These are good physiological reasons for proper pauses being introduced; 
 but there is a sound psychological one as well. The mind requires a 
 certain amount of time to appreciate fully the words that are uttered, 
 to mark the distinction of sentences and the several clauses of which 
 they are composed ; and these pauses are not only thus necessary and 
 useful, but they become also highly aesthetic and ornamental in the 
 recital or reading aloud of poetry, when reduced to definite proportions 
 of time, in the same way as the rests do in music : and as carefully as 
 these latter are observed by the vocalist when singing, should the reader 
 or reciter observe the rhetorical pauses or ccesuras of poetry, in order to 
 mark its time and rhythmical flow, as you have seen explained in my 
 preceding lecture on poise, and exemplified by the illustrations therein 
 given. 
 
 Sheridan in his fifth lecture on Elocution enters very fully and 
 elaborately into the subject of pauses ; and Sir James Burrow, Dr. 
 Bowles, Johii Walker, John Thelwall and his son, the late Rev. A. S. 
 Thelwallofthis College, Ewing, Dr. J. E. Carpenter, Frobisher, and other 
 writers in England and America, have written fully on the great impor- 
 tance of rhetorical punctuation and the principles by which it should be
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 265 
 
 regulated. I shall take an eclectic course in addressing you on this essen- 
 tial element of Elocution, and from all these writers select those views and 
 rules which seem to me the most consonant with reason and good taste. 
 
 In the first place I would observe broadly and generally that pauses 
 in reading aloud, recitation, and public speaking, must be formed upon 
 the manner in which a good and fluent talker expresses his views in 
 ordinary, sensible conversation ; and not upon the artificial manner apt 
 to be acquired from reading books with no other principle to guide us 
 save that of attending to the pauses that are indicated by commas, semi- 
 colons, colons, and full stops. It will be by no means sufficient to 
 attend only to these marks of punctuation, as they are used by the 
 printers ; for these are far from marking all the pauses which should be 
 made by the public speaker, reader, or reciter. A mechanical attention 
 to these resting-places for the voice, and to none but these, has been 
 perhaps one cause of that monotonous reading so wearisome to the ear, 
 and so much complained of as characterising a large part of the clerical 
 reading of the present day, and which, I am disposed to think, has been 
 very possibly induced in no small degree by such readers paying this 
 kind of mechanical attention to the marks of punctuation only, and so 
 being led to adopt a similar tone at every stop, and a uniform mode of 
 terminating every period. The primary use of these printers' marks of 
 punctuation is to assist the reader's mind through the eye in discerning 
 the grammatical construction ; but it is quite as a secondary object that 
 they serve to regulate his pauses in reading aloud, or in recitation. 
 
 There is also another most important rule in regard to pauses, that I 
 would earnestly impress upon your recollections, and it is this : In 
 order to render them pleasing to the ear and expressive to the mind, 
 they must not only be made in the right places, but the words forming 
 the clause which precedes such pauses, must be delivered in that pitch 
 or key, and with that appropriate inflection of the voice, by which the 
 character of the pause is intimated, much more indeed than by its 
 length in point of duration, which can seldom be exactly measured ; for, 
 as regards this, a great deal must be left to the good taste and discre- 
 tion of each individual reader and reciter; and the only general rule I 
 can give in regard to these particulars is, that in all cases we should 
 endeavour to regulate ourselves by attending to the manner in which 
 we naturally speak, and the pauses we naturally make, when engaged in 
 real, earnest, animated discourse with others. The great utility of 
 attending to this rule will be obvious to you at once, when you consider 
 how necessary it is that the hearers whom you are addressing should 
 be able to follow you easily with their minds, throughout the whole of 
 the composition which you are reading aloud or reciting to them. 
 Now, if pauses had no other distinction but the time of their duration, it 
 is evident that not only must the reader or speaker always be exceedingly 
 particular in observing the exact proportion of time with regard to the 
 different pauses (a thing scarcely practicable in common discourses o*: 
 ordinary conversation), but there would be a further disadvantage if such 
 a principle as this only prevailed. The hearer would have to give up 
 almost his whole attention during these pauses to measuring their dura-
 
 266 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 tion, without which their nature, of course, might be mistaken. This, 
 too, would be a thing absurd in theory and ahnost impossible to reduce 
 to practice ; or if attempted to be carried out, must, by this distraction 
 of the attention, have a very injurious effect on the mind of the 
 hearer, whose main object should be to concentrate all its powers to 
 attaining the principal end in view, which every attentive hearer has, 
 viz., a full, clear, and accurate idea of the speaker's or reader's meaning. 
 But, on the other hand, when the very nature of the pause is indicated 
 at its beginning by the very inflection with which the immediately 
 preceding clause or word was ended, it really matters not how much 
 the pause may be prolonged ad libitum ; for the mind of the hearer is 
 prepared by the very nature of the inflection used, to go along with that 
 of the speaker or reader, as soon as the latter thinks proper to resume, 
 whether it be after the shortest pause or after one of longer duration 
 than might seem absolutely necessary. 
 
 It must not be forgotten, however, that in the reciting or reading 
 aloud of all poetical compositions, the cultivated ear will miss one 
 important source of gratification, if a due proportion of rhythmical pauses 
 be not observed, as well as proper inflections and right modulation 
 employed. The aesthetic sense demands that this observance of 
 metrical time be satisfied, and there is a feeling of disappointment if 
 it is neglected. But still, so far as the mind is concerned, no further 
 harm is done ; for the employment of the right inflections will convey 
 to it clearly enough the real meaning of the verse. 
 
 But speeches, sermons, and other prose compositions are untram- 
 melled by the fetters of metre ; and this very circumstance gives the 
 reader or speaker such a discretionary power over the pauses as, 
 judiciously used, may contribute much to the main end he should ever 
 keep in view, viz., that of making his meaning as clear as possible, and 
 impressing it strongly on the minds of his hearers. For this reason he 
 may always proportion the length of his pauses to the importance of the 
 sense, and not merely to the grammatical structure of clauses in sen- 
 tences, in which like pauses are always placed in clauses and sentences 
 of like construction. I shall give a summary of the rules laid down by 
 the best authorities, and gathered from their various works, and also 
 illustrate them by selections for practice, before I close my remarks on 
 the subject I am at this time discussing. But I may say at present by 
 way of illustration, that if there should be any proposition or sentiment 
 that you desire to enforce more strongly than another, you may precede 
 it by a longer pause than usual, which will awaken attention, and give 
 what you deliver the more weight and importance ; and you may also 
 allow a longer pause to take place after it has been delivered, which 
 will give time for the mind to meditate upon it, and by such reflection 
 allow it to sink the deeper. The long pause before and after some 
 specially important word, even where neither the grammatical sense nor 
 ordinary custom would admit of any, is also a powerful means, espe- 
 cially when accompanied with an unusual degree of stress upon the word, 
 of giving it emphatic prominence ; but this license, of course, requires 
 to be exercised with considerable judgment and discretion.
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 267 
 
 If you are only careful to use the proper inflections on the words that 
 precede all pauses, you may at any time, when reading or speaking, take 
 breath, if necessary, even at the smallest pause, without prejudice to the 
 sense ; as the inflection will sufficiently indicate the nature of the pause 
 without reference to its duration : and there is an infallible rule to guide 
 you as to what is the proper inflection in such cases, and it is this : give 
 exactly the same inflection that would be appropriate to the clause 
 preceding the pause that you w^ould do if you were to proceed more 
 quickly to the next clause of the sentence and were not to make a stop 
 of greater length than usual. Sheridan most truly says, that ignorance, 
 or rather the false rule under which people are too often instructed in 
 the art of reading aloud, viz., that the breath is never to be taken but 
 when there is a full stop or completion of the sense of the passage, has 
 made it exceedingly difficult to many persons to utter long sentences at 
 all, and impossible to those whose powers of respiration are at all 
 defective. Such persons therefore are very apt when reading or speak- 
 ing either to run themselves entirely out of breath (a misfortune painful 
 to themselves and most disagreeable to their hearers, destroying all grace 
 and power), and not to stop until they are compefled to do so from utter 
 failure of breath and the necessity of replenishing the lungs with air in the 
 best way they can ; and this is often likely to occur at the most improper 
 places for taking breath : or else, if it is a very long sentence, they sub- 
 divide it, as it were, into as many distinct sentences as they make 
 occasions for breathing, often to the utter destruction of all perspicuity 
 of meaning. It may be truly said that it is quite as important to a speaker 
 or reader that he should at all times have his lungs supplied with a 
 sufficient quantity of breath, as it is for the pipes of an organ to have a 
 sufficient quantity of air supplied them to produce vibration and conse- 
 quently proper musical tone. Nothing therefore can be more practically 
 useful to him to bear in mind than the practice of the rule just given, 
 as it will enable all persons who do not labour under some serious defect 
 in the organs of respiration, to deliver the longest sentences that can be 
 constructed with perfect ease, and with the voice properly sustained to 
 the very last. 
 
 Sheridan lays down the axiom that poise is the link which connects 
 syllables together and forms them into words ; but that emphasis is the 
 link which connects words together and forms them into sentences, or 
 clauses of sentences ; and that emphasis alone will not adequately distin- 
 guish the members of sentences without the introduction of such rhetori- 
 cal pauses as those I have mentioned, and the use of the right inflection 
 on the words before and after such pauses : and he illustrates this by two 
 of the examples given in his Lecture on Emphasis ; for in the line that 
 concludes Macbeth's well-known speech — 
 
 " Making the green one red," 
 the meaning could not have been mistaken had a comma been placed 
 after the word green, as thus — 
 
 " Making the green, one red j" 
 and if the line taken from "All for Love,"
 
 268 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 "To place thee there where only thou couldst fail," 
 
 had only been punctuated thus, with a comma after each of the three 
 emphatic words — 
 
 " To place thee there, where only, thou, couldst fail " — 
 
 the full meaning of the passage would have been at once unmistakably 
 perceptible by the pauses made after the words where the commas are 
 placed, accompanied of course by the right inflections. 
 
 If, therefore, you wish to practise yourselves in the art of reading 
 aloud correctly, punctuate according to Sheridan's rule. Find out and 
 mark each emphatic word with one or more lines drawn under it, 
 according to the degree of emphasis which you think its meaning 
 requires, and after (or if occasion specially demands also before) such 
 word place a comma, or such other stop as you may think proper, by 
 which to indicate the duration of the pause. Then consider what 
 inflections should be used, and for what time the voice would be sus- 
 pended if you were speaking the sentence as embodying your own 
 sentiments, and mark it accordingly, together with the appropriate 
 changes of key ; and it may be as well, until quite familiar with the law 
 of poise on which the rhythm of speech so essentially depends, to use 
 the signs which show what syllables are heavy and what are light. You 
 will thus have the piece, whether prose or poetry, completely scored, 
 as it were, with all the elements that combined make up the music of 
 speech ; and as the vocalist sings a song according to the notes before 
 him, so do you read the piece according to the signs you have put 
 down indicating all the various elements in Elocution that should 
 properly be employed in its delivery. 
 
 A few days' steady practice on this principle will soon make you 
 familiar with the laws by which their employment should be governed ; 
 and you will soon find that you begin to use them all correctly, almost 
 as unconsciously and automatically as a well-educated man writes and 
 speaks his language grammatically, without having in his mind every 
 rule in grammar which governs its construction and composition : and 
 if at any time you should suddenly be called upon to read anything 
 aloud at sight, put into practice that power which the eye with a Httle 
 training speedily acquires, of being able to take in all the words of a 
 clause at a glance and convey their meaning to the brain, and speak 
 them looking at your audience, and not, as is too often the case, with 
 your head and neck bent down and your eyes fixed upon the page, to 
 the destruction of all ease, grace, power, and expression. In other 
 words, briefly, let your chief aim in reading aloud at sight be thus, to 
 gather the full meaning of the sentence yourself and then by a knowledge 
 of the principles of Elocution, convey that meaning thoroughly to the 
 minds of your hearers by your mode of delivery. 
 
 I must now call your attention to another kind of pause, of which I 
 have hitherto only spoken incidentally, a pause not governed so much 
 by laws relating to the meaning of the passage, as dependent on the 
 esthetic sense being gratified through the ear. This kind of pause is,
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 269 
 
 as I have said, called thec?esuraor rhythmical pause ; and I have given 
 you some illustrations of this in my Lecture on Poise, 
 
 Sheridan enters into the subject of rhythmical pauses as an essential 
 element to the reading aloud of poetry, at some little length, Walker 
 more minutely, and Lord Kames still more copiously and analytically 
 in the chapter on Beauty of Language in versitication, in Cap. XIII. 
 section i of his " Elements of Criticism ; " and if you wish to investi- 
 gate thoroughly the philosophical theory on which the laws of rhythmical 
 pauses are based, you cannot do better than study the subject in all the 
 variety of its applications in the works of the three authors I have just 
 mentioned. 
 
 Broadly and generally it may be said that almost every kind of verse 
 in English poetry requires, when read aloud, a rhythmical pause, or 
 caesura, as it is termed by most writers on the subject, to be made in or 
 near the middle of each line ; and the reader must take care always to 
 observe this, or much of the distinctness and almost all the melody of 
 the versification will be destroyed. It will cause as much pain to the 
 cultivated ear to hear poetry read aloud without due observance of 
 these rhythmical pauses, as it would distress the musician to hear a song 
 sung, or a piece played, without the rests required in music being 
 observed by the performer. Let me here give you a practical illustra- 
 tion, which I hope will make clear my meaning and serve to impress it 
 on your memories. I take the following eight lines from Pope, and I 
 read it to you with no other pauses than those marked by the printer. 
 
 Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit, 
 And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit ; 
 As on the land, while here the ocean gains. 
 In other parts it leaves wide, sandy plains ; 
 Thus in the soul, while memory prevails, 
 The solid power of understanding fails ; 
 Where beams of warm imagination play, 
 The' memory's soft figures melt away. 
 
 In such reading, is there not something wanting to complete the 
 musical flow of the lines, some element absent, that if introduced, 
 would have rendered the rhythm much more perceptible and satisfactory 
 to the ear ? What then is that missing element ? It is the ccesura or 
 rhythmical pause. If I had introduced this pause after the word t/migs 
 in the first line ; after curfd in the second ; after land in the third ; 
 after parts in the fourth ; and so on — the rhythmical flow of the lines 
 would have been much more observable by the ear, and the aesthetic 
 sense consequently much more satisfied. Let me now recite the 
 passage to you, using the same inflections, modulation, poise, and 
 emphasis as before, but now adding the proper rhythmical pauses at the 
 places required by the laws of poetry. 
 
 Nature to all things ^ fix'd the limits fit. 
 And wisely curb'd — proud man's pretending wit ; 
 As on the land — while here the ocean gains, 
 In other parts — it leaves wide, sandy plains \
 
 270 AVA'-G'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 Thus in the soul — while memory prevails, 
 The solid power of understanding — fails ; 
 Where beams of warm imagination — • play, 
 The memory's soft figures — melt away. 
 
 I think it will be admitted by every one who has any sense of rhythm, 
 that this delivery of the lines is more satisfactory to the ear and mind 
 than the former. You will have noticed, I apprehend, that in all these 
 lines save the three last, the principal rhylibmical pause occurred pretty 
 nearly about the middle of each line. But in the three last lines, I was 
 obliged by the laws which govern the division of a sentence, as laid 
 down by the best authorities on the subject, to postpone introducing the 
 principal pause until quite the latter part of the line. We may therefore 
 say that though generally the most harmonious place for introducing 
 the chief rhythmical pause is after the fourth syllable of the line, yet for 
 the sake of expressing the sense strongly and fully, and sometimes even 
 for the sake of variety, it may be placed at several other intervals. 
 
 But besides this principal pause in the lines as I Just recited them, I 
 dare say you noticed there were other pauses of shorter duration. 
 These subordinate pauses, though not so essential to rhythm as the 
 principal pause, yet according to our best writers on the prosody of our 
 language, produce some of the greatest delicacies of rhythm in the 
 reading aloud of poetry, and are an inexhaustible source of melody and 
 variety in the composition of verse. To this kind of subordinate pause 
 the name of the demi-cgesura has been given; and its judicious employ- 
 ment depends essentially on the cultivated ear and good taste of the 
 reader. 
 
 Now comes a question on which authorities differ in their opinions. 
 Should there be a rhythmical pause introduced at the end of every line 
 in blank verse or rhymed poetry, whether required by the sense or not, 
 when read aloud or recited ? Sheridan in his " Art of Reading," insists 
 most strongly on the necessity of making a pause at the end of every 
 line of poetr}', no matter if the sense does or does not demand its 
 employment ; and this, he goes on to observe, is so essential, that with- 
 out it we change verse into prose. In this view the renowned tragedian, 
 David Garrick, Lord Kames, Dr. Johnson, and Bishop Lowth concurred, 
 and, in my recollection, the delivery of blank verse on this principle was 
 always adopted by Macready and Charles Kemble. Walker is opposed 
 to it, though he says it is with great dififidence he expresses his opinion. 
 I am disposed rather to concur with the first-named authorities, with 
 the qualification that if not demanded by the sense at all, the pause 
 should be of the shortest duration, and especial care must be taken in 
 the delivery of the words immediately preceding it, that the right inflec- 
 tion be employed. 
 
 In concluding this part of my subject I give, for the practice of the 
 student in rhetorical pauses, the rules laid down and the illustrations 
 supplied by Mr. Ewing in his " Principles of Elocution." * 
 
 * Simpkin & Marshall, London, 1839.
 
 Lect. XV. ] ON EL OCUTION. '27 1 
 
 RHETORICAL PAUSES. 
 
 Rule I. — Pause after the nominative when it consists of more than one 
 
 word.* 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. The fashion of this \vox\d passeth away. 
 
 2. To practise virtue is the sure way to love it. 
 
 3. The pleasures and honours of the world to come a?-e, in the stric- 
 test sense of the word, everlasting. 
 
 Mote I. — A pause may be made after a nominative, even when it consists of only 
 one word, if it be a word of importance, or if we wish it to be particularly observed. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Adversity ?V the school of piety. 
 
 2. The fool hath said in his heart there is no God. 
 
 A'oie 2. — When a sentence consists of a nominative and a verb, each expressed in a 
 single word, no pause is necessary. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. George learns. — 2. The boys read. — 3. The tree grows. — 4. He comes. 
 
 Rule II. — [Fhen a?iy member comes betzveen the nominative case a7id the 
 verb, it must be separated from both of them by a short pause. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Trials in this state of being are the lot of man. 
 
 2. Such is the constitution of men, that virtue however it may be 
 neglected for a time will ultimately be acknowledged and respected. 
 
 Rule III. — When any member comes betzveen the verb and the objective or 
 accusative case, it must be separated from both of them by a short pause. 
 
 example. 
 
 I knew a person who possessed the faculty of distinguishing flavours 
 in so great a perfection, that, after having tasted ten different kinds of 
 tea, he would distinguish zvithout seeing the colour of it the particular 
 sort which was offered him. 
 
 Rule IV. — When two verbs come together, and the latter is in the infini- 
 tive mood, if any words come between, they must be separated from the 
 latter verb by a pause. 
 
 example. 
 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And by opposing end them ? 
 
 * The place of the pause is immediately before each of the words printed in italics.
 
 272 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 Note. — When the verb/^ be is followed by a verb in the infinitive mood, which may 
 serve as a nominative case to it, and the phrases before and after the verb may be 
 transposed, then the pause falls between the verbs. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 The greatest misery is to be condemned by our own hearts. 
 
 Rule V. — When smeral siibstatitives become the nominative to the same 
 verb, a pause must be made between the last substantive and the verb, as 
 well as after each of the other S2ibsta7itives. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Riches, pleasure, and health become evils to those who do not know 
 how to use them. 
 
 Rule VI. — If there are several adjectives belonging to one substantive, or 
 several substantives belonging to one adjective, every adjective corning after 
 its substantive, and every adjective coming before the substa?itive except 
 the last, must be separated by a short pause * 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. It was a calculation accurate to the last degree. 
 
 2. A behaviour active supple and polite, is necessary to succeed in life. 
 
 3. The idea of an eternal, uncaused Being, forces itself upon the 
 reflecting mind. 
 
 4. Let but one brave, great, active, disinterested moin arise, and he will 
 be received, followed, and venerated. 
 
 Note. — This rule applies also to sentences in which several adverbs belong to one 
 verb, or several verbs to one adverb. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. To love wisely rationally fl«^ prudently, is, in the opinion of lovers, not to love 
 at all. " _ 
 
 2. Wisely rationally and prudently to love, is, in the opinion of lovers, not to love 
 at all. 
 
 Rule VTI. — Whatever words are in the ablative absolute, must be separ- 
 ated fro?n the rest by a short pause both before and after them. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 T. If a man borrow aught of his neighbour, and it be hurt or die the 
 owner thereof not being with it he shall surely make it good. 
 2. God, from the mount of Sinai, whose grey top 
 Shall tremble he descending will himself 
 In thunder, lightnings, and loud tempests' sound 
 Ordain them laws. 
 
 * No pause is admitted between the substantive and the adjective in the inverted 
 order, when the adjective is single, or unaccompanied by adjuncts. — Thus, in this 
 line, — 
 
 They guard with arms divine the British throne — 
 The adjective divine cannot be separated by a pause from the sulistantive amis.
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 273 
 
 Rule VIII. — Nouns in apposition, or words ifi the same case, where the 
 latter is only explanatory of the jorvier, have a short pause between the?n, 
 either if both these noutis consist op many terms, or 'the latter only. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Hope, the balm of life, soothes us under every misfortune. 
 
 2. Solomon, the son of David and the builder of the temple of Jeru- 
 salem, was the richest monarch that reigned over the Jewish people. 
 
 Note. — If the two nouns are single, no pause is admitted ; as, Paul the apostle ; 
 King George ; the Emperor Alexander. 
 
 Rule IX. — When two substantives come together, and the latter, which 
 is in the genitive case, consists of several words closely united with each 
 other, a pause ts admissible between the two principal substantives. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 I do not know whether I am singular in my opinion, but, for my own 
 part, I would rather look upon a tree in all its luxuriancy, and diffusion 
 of boughs and branches, than when it is cut and trimmed into a mathe- 
 matical figure. 
 
 Rule X. — Who, which, when in the nominative case, and the pronoun 
 that, when used for who or which, require a short pause before them. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Death is the season which brings our affections to the test. 
 
 2. Nothing is in vain that rouses the soul : nothing in vain that keeps 
 the ethereal fire alive and glowing. 
 
 3. A man can never be obliged to submit to any power, unless he can 
 be satisfied who is the person who has a right to exercise it. 
 
 Note. — There are several words usually called adverbs, which include in them the 
 power of the relative pronoun, and will therefore admit of a pause before them ; such 
 as, when, why, wherefore, hotv, where, whether, whither, whence, while, till, or until: 
 for zvhen is equivalent to the time at which ; why, or wherefore, is equivalent to the 
 reason for which; and so of the rest. It must, however, be noted, that when a 
 preposition comes before one of these relatives, the pause is before the preposition ; 
 and that, if any of these words is the last word ol the sentence, or clause of a sentence, 
 no pause is admitted before it : as, "I have read the book, of which I have heard so 
 much commendation, but I know not tlie reason why. I have heard one of the books 
 much commended, but I cannot tell which," &c. 
 
 It must likewise be observed, that, if the substantive which governs the relative, 
 and makes it assume the genitive case, comes before it, no pause is to be placed either 
 before which, or the preposition that governs it. 
 
 The passage of the Jordan is a figure of baptism, by the grace of which the 
 new-born Christian passes from the slavery of sin into a state of freedom peculiar to 
 the chosen sons of God.
 
 274 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 Rule XI. — Pause before that, wheti it is used for a cotij unci ion. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 It is in society only that we can relish those pure delicious joys which 
 embellish and gladden the life of man. 
 
 Rule XTI. — When a pause is necessary at prepositions and conjunctions, 
 it must be before and not after them. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. We must not conform to the world iii their amusements and 
 diversions. 
 
 2. There is an inseparable connection between piety and virtue. 
 
 Note I. — When a clause comes between the conjunction and the woid to which it 
 belongs, a pause may be made both before and after the conjunction. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 This let him know, 
 Lest, wilfully transgres.'^ing, he pretend 
 Surprisai. 
 
 A^ote 2. — When a preposition enters into the composition of a verb, the pause comes 
 after it. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 People expect in a small essay, that a point of humour should be worked up in all 
 its parts, and a subject touched upon in its most essential articles, \\itliout the 
 repetitions, tautologies, and enlargements that are indulged to longer labours. 
 
 Rule XIII. — /// an elliptical sentence, pause where the ellipsis takes place. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. To our faith we should add virtue; and to virtue knowledge ; and 
 to knowledge temperance ; and to temperance /(7//<?«r(f/ and to patience 
 godliness ; and to godliness brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly kind- 
 ness charity. 
 
 2. The .vain man takes praise for honour, the proud man ceremony 
 for respect, the ambitious man power for glory. 
 
 Rule XIV. — Words placed either iii opposition to, or in apposition with 
 each other, must be distinguished by a pause. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 I. The pleasures of the imagination, taken in their full extent, are 
 not so gross as those of sense, nor so refined as those of the under- 
 standing. 
 
 2. Some place the bliss in action, some in ease : 
 Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 275 
 
 Rule XV. — When prepositiotis are placed in opposition to each other, 
 a7id all of them are intimately connected ivith another tvord, the pause 
 after the second preposition must be shorter tha?i that after the first, 
 and the pause after the third shorter than that after the second.* 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Rank, distinction, pre-eminence, no man despises, unless he is 
 either raised very much above, or sunk very much below, the ordinary 
 standard of human nature. 
 
 2. Whenever words are contrasted with, contradistinguished _/>-<?w, or 
 opposed to, other words, they are always emphatical. 
 
 As those classes of words, which admit of no separation, are very small and very 
 few, if we do but take the opportunity of pausing wiiere the sense will permit, we 
 shall never be obliged to break in upon tlie sense when we find ourselves undt r the 
 necessity of pausing, but if we over-shoot ourselves by pronouncing mure in a breath 
 than is necessary, and neglecting those intervals where we may pause conveniently, we 
 shall often find ourselves obliged to pause where the sense is not separable, and, con- 
 sequently, to weaken and obscure the composition. This observation, for the sake of 
 the memory, may be conveniently comprised in the following verses : — • 
 
 In pausing, ever let this rule take place, 
 
 Never to separate words in any case 
 
 That are less separable than those you join : 
 
 And, which imports the same, not to combine 
 
 Such words together, as do not relate 
 
 So closely as the words you separate. 
 
 Exercises on Pausing. 
 
 1. The path of piety and virtue pursued with a firm and constant 
 spirit will assuredly lead to happiness. 
 
 2. Deeds of mere valour how heroic soever may prove cold and tire- 
 some. 
 
 3. Homer claims on every account our first attention as the father 
 not only of epic poetry but in some measure of poetry itself. 
 
 4. War is attended with distressful and desolating effects. It is con- 
 fessedly the scourge of our angry passions. 
 
 5. The warrior's fame is often purchased by the blood of thousands. 
 
 6. The erroneous opinions which we form concerning happiness and 
 misery give rise to all the mistaken and dangerous passions that eiribroil 
 our life. 
 
 7. Peace of mind being secured we may smile at misfortunes. 
 
 8. Idleness is the great fomenter of all corruptions in the human 
 heart. 
 
 9. The best men often experience disappointments. 
 
 10. The conformity of the thought to truth and nature greatly recom- 
 mends it. 
 
 11. Hatred and anger are the greatest poison to the happiness of a 
 good mind. 
 
 * In the examples annexed to this rule, the prepositions, as they are emphatic, are 
 printed in italics, and the pause comes ajter them.
 
 276 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 12. A perfect happiness bliss without alloy is not to be found on this 
 side the grave. 
 
 13. The true spirit of religion cheers as well as composes the soul. 
 
 14. Reflection is the guide which leads to truth. 
 
 15. The first science of man is the study of himself. 
 
 16. The spirit of light and grace is promised to assist them that 
 ask it. 
 
 But now I pass on to another very important division of our subject, 
 viz., that which relates to attitude, expression of countenance, and 
 gesture in public speaking and reading. Words, tones, inflections, 
 gesture, and expression should always be in harmony together. Let 
 any one hear, as doubtless many of us have heard, a preacher delivering, 
 what is, in point of language, a most earnest and impassioned warning, 
 or a solemn appeal to his congregation, and all the time his eyes are 
 fixed upon his sermon, his arms hang lifelessly at his side, and his hands 
 are only raised to turn over the pages of his discourse — and then say 
 whether the preacher's apparent apathy and frigidity of manner have 
 not almost neutralised the effect of his language ? A man may be 
 earnest, but that is not enough ; there is something more needed in 
 preachi'ng and public speaking, and that is to appear also to be in 
 earnest — if a strong impression is to be made on the minds of those to 
 whom the address is delivered. On the other hand, we sometimes see, 
 though much more rarely in this country, instances of gesture carried to 
 excess, the arms " sawing the air," and the hands beating time as it 
 were to every period of the discourse by emphatic thumps on the pulpit 
 cushion, or the platform railing. We may take Hamlet's advice to the 
 players as the best of all directions for the speaker to follow ; for it 
 guards against either extreme, and may well be borne in mind by every 
 one of us when addressing any public assembly. 
 
 There is a certain amount of prejudice even now existing against 
 studying the art of delivery and action, on the ground that a stilted, 
 formal, and artificial style must be the result of such lessons. And yet 
 how stands the fact? Have not all the very greatest orators, from 
 Demosthenes and Cicero to Lord Mansfield and Lord Chatham, made 
 the study and practice of delivery and gesture under competent masters 
 part of their regular training in the art of rhetoric? Doubtless the story 
 Plutarch has told us of the patience and perseverance of Demosthenes, 
 whose very name has become to us almost a synonym for the perfection 
 of oratory, is familiar to most of you ; but I think it may well be repeated 
 here, as the most memorable instance which history has recorded of the 
 advantages which nature may derive from the resources of art. 
 
 Demosthenes, says Plutarch, after an unsuccessiul attempt to address 
 the Assembly, was returning to his house, burning with shame and mor- 
 tification at the disgrace of his failure. In this state of mind he was 
 met and accosted by his old and intimate accjuaintance Satyrus, the actor, 
 to whom he confided the whole story of his misfortunes, adding that the 
 most bitter thought of all was that he had been in study the most indus- 
 trious of all the advocates, and had spent almost the whole of his strength
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 2Ti 
 
 and vigour of body in that profession, and yet could not make himself 
 acceptable to the people; while, to crown all, he had the mortification of 
 seeing all kinds of inferior and illiterate men ascend the rostrum, while 
 he himself was ridiculed and despised. What was the answer of Satyrus 
 to all these complaints? "I must admit," said the actor, " that what 
 you say is perfectly true, and yet I will engage ere long to remove all 
 these impediments to success, if you will repeat some lines to me from 
 the great tragedies of Sophocles or Euripides." 
 
 Demosthenes accordingly did so after his own originally uncouth and 
 ungainly manner. Satyrus then recited them with all that grace of 
 delivery, mien, and gesture which his art had given him, producing such 
 an effect on his hearer, that it seemed to Demosthenes as if the whole 
 passage was changed and wore quite a different appearance. 
 
 Convinced by this how much effect and grace may be given to a 
 speech by a proper delivery, and the accompaniment of an appropriate 
 action, he began now, Plutarch tells us, to think it of little consequence 
 for a man to exercise himself in making public addresses if he neglected 
 the effective pronunciation of words, and the other aids lent by Elocution. 
 Accordingly he built forthwith a subterranean room (which the biographer 
 says was in existence at the time of his writing), to which he retired every 
 day to exercise his voice and form his action ; and in this room, Plutarch 
 states, he did not disdain to avail himself of the aid afforded by a large 
 mirror, before which he would stand and repeat his orations, and so be 
 enabled to see how far his action was graceful or awkward. 
 
 Plutarch also relates that on a certain occasion a citizen of Athens 
 came to Demosthenes, and besought him to plead his cause against one 
 by whom he had been treated with great cruelty. Now the person 
 having made his complaint with an air and style of perfect coldness and 
 indifference, the orator was not inclined to believe him.* " This affair 
 cannot be as you represent it ! You have not suffered hard usage ! " 
 Here, merely from the want of earnestness and expression, the veracity 
 of the person was disputed, and that, too, by Demosthenes ! A pathetic 
 address, with finely interwoven phrases, was not essential to convince 
 the orator of the fact. He only required, perhaps, a probable picture 
 of the mind of the sufferer, or an earnest recital of the transaction. 
 He then would have acknowledged, in true sympathy, the justness of 
 the charge ; and the other, instead of doubting, might have readily con- 
 sented to plead the cause. Perhaps the circumstance, if adequately 
 scrutinised, might come under the class of feeling called the " moral 
 sense ; " and it may be urged, that the external sense would have had, 
 in that case, nothing to do with the instance of the apathy and indif- 
 ference of the Athenian. Although it may not be disputed, that the 
 divine Author of our nature has endowed man with an innate principle 
 
 * Ae'7eTat 5^ avOpuwov irpoffeXffdvros Seofievov cvvriyopiai, Kal Sie^tovro^ ws virorov 
 Xd/3ot irXriyas, " AXXd ai/ye ((fidfai, rbv Ar^fioadlvriv) tovtwv Cdv Xe'-yets ovo^v iriirov- 
 6as.'' 'EtnTeivauTos be ttjv <f>wvriv toO &p(ppu.Trov Kal ^owvos, " £701, ArnxocdeveSy 
 oiiSiv viirovda ;" — "Ntj, Ai'a {(pavai) vvv clkovo] <po}i>T]i> ddiKovfxevov /cat ireTrov66Tos.^' 
 'OvTUS ijieTo p^eya. irpbs irLcmv ehai rbv tovov Kal rr]v viroKpLdiv tQ}V XeybvTOiv. — 
 Plutarch, in Vila Demosthenis.
 
 278 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 oi desire of virtue, it is well known that his reason is frequently per- 
 verted by the baser passions ; therefore, as the citizen might possibly 
 have been an obscure individual, Demosthenes was at full liberty to 
 suppose, by the coolness and indifference of his manner, that he was 
 actuated by some more violent motive than a sense of moral good. But 
 when the orator intimated his disbelief of the fact, Plutarch informs us, 
 that the citizen immediately expressed himself with the utmost emotion, 
 which proves to us, beyond all controversy, that, as it is through the 
 medium of the external senses the mind receives its primary impressions, 
 so the pleasure or aversion occasioned by them, and retained by the 
 memory or mind, should actuate the expression of consciousness or 
 mental feeling. " I not harshly used ! I not ill-treated ! " " Nay, now," 
 says Demosthenes, " I begin to believe you — that is the form, that the 
 language of an injured man, I acknowledge the justice of your cause, 
 and will be your advocate." We perceive the earnestness of the Athenian 
 citizen was excited by the feeling of pride ; and this probably brought 
 the circumstance of the cruelty more strongly before his mind ; his 
 veracity was disputed, and he replied to the orator in a feeling manner, 
 agitated by anger, i.e., an imitation of that expression, which was imme- 
 diately caused by the cruelty of the transaction, strongly tinctured with 
 the passion of indignation. 
 
 As with the first orator of Greece, so with the first orator of Rome, 
 for Plutarch also tells us that Cicero, at first, was, like Demosthenes, very 
 defective in delivery and action, and therefore diligently availed himself 
 of the instructions of the two great actors, Roscius and yEsopus. 
 
 We shall find the object of this illustration shown more at length by 
 the Roman orator. Calidius is represented by Cicero to have had great 
 suavity of manners. No one knew better how to charm the attention 
 of his audience, or more perfectly understood his subject. " He had 
 not a single expression which was either harsh, unnatural, or far-fetched." 
 His sentences were round and swelling, his action was graceful and 
 agreeable, and his whole manner very engaging and very sensible. But 
 the illustrious Roman insists that it is the business of the orator, not 
 only to instruct and please, but also to prove and to inflame the passions ; 
 Calidius, he observes, was perfectly master of the first and second, but 
 entirely destitute of the third, which, he adds, is of much greater effi- 
 cacy than the other two. " He had no force, no exertion." Cicero, 
 however, candidly relates the following : — " I perfectly remember, that 
 when Calidius prosecuted Q. Gallius for an attempt to poison him, and 
 pretended that he had the plainest proofs of it, and could produce many 
 letters, witnesses, informations, and other evidences to put the truth of 
 his charge beyond a doubt, interspersing many sensible and ingenious 
 remarks on the nature of the crime ; I remember," says Cicero, " that 
 when it came to my turn to reply to him, alter urging every argument 
 which the case itself suggested, 1 insisted upon it as a material circum- 
 stance in favour of my client, that the prosecutor, while he charged him 
 with a design against his life, and assured us that he had the most in- 
 dubitable proofs of it then in his hands, related his story with as much 
 ease, and as much calmness and indifference, as if nothing had hap-
 
 lect. XV.] ON elocution: 279 
 
 pened." "Would it have been possible," exclaimed Cicero (addressing 
 himself to Calidius), "that you should speak with this air of unconcern 
 unless the charge was purely an invention of your own ? — and, above all, 
 that you, whose eloquence has often vindicated the wrongs of other 
 people with so much spirit, should speak so coolly of a crime which 
 threatened your life ? Where was that expression of resentment which 
 is so natural to the injured ? Where that ardour, that eagerness, which 
 extorts the most pathetic language even from men of the dullest capa- 
 cities ? There was no visible disorder in your mind, there was no 
 emotion in your looks and gesture. You were, therefore, so far from 
 interesting our passions in your favour, that we could scarcely keep our 
 eyes open, while you were relating the dangers you had so narrowly 
 escaped." 
 
 In this manner did Cicero employ the natural defect, or what he 
 believed to be a defect of nature (lor he had before said that Calidius 
 "had no force, no exertion"), as an argument to invalidate his charge ; 
 and thus have I endeavoured to show that orators, readers, and speakers, 
 who do not deliver their sentiments with appropriate feeling and earnest- 
 ness, are liable not only to have their arguments confuted, but also to 
 have their characters branded with insincerity, vice, and falsehood. This 
 conclusion is naturally suggested to the discreeter part of an audience, 
 and the narrow-minded, unthinking, and ignorant do not feel their 
 attention sufficiently excited to enable them to remember, even with 
 common interest, that which was advanced for their most serious con- 
 sideration. 
 
 As students in oratory, we should be reminded, that we must never 
 cease to avail ourselves of information— that we must observe, read, 
 converse, and meditate. The speaker must not only acquire thejustest 
 conception of the things which he presumes to utter, but he must know 
 how to communicate them in their proper order ; they must be clothed 
 in the most agreeable, as well as the most forcible, language. The 
 speaker must avoid redundancy of expression ; he must be neither too 
 close nor too diffuse ; and, above all, he must perfect himself in that 
 branch of oratory, which has been pronounced to form the first, second, 
 and third part of the science — Elocution. This will enable him, at all 
 times, to command attention ; its operation will be electric : it will strike 
 from heart to heart ; and he must be a mere declaimer, who does not 
 feel himself inspirited by the fostering meedof such approbation, — mute 
 attention ; and returns his sentiments with a sympathetic feeling, energy, 
 and pathos. 
 
 In Lord Bacon's great work on the " Advancement of Learning," you 
 will also find some very interesting and remarkable narratives of the 
 power of good delivery, and appropriate action and expression. But it is 
 needless to multiply our illustrations under this head further, and I 
 proceed therefore to give such general directions in reference to attitude, 
 expression, and gesture, as I trust may be of some practical service to 
 the novice in public speaking. 
 
 At first, then, when called on to address a public assembly, the 
 speaker should not, the moment he is on his legs, begin without any
 
 2$o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 pause or preparation to pour forth his thoughts in words, because if he 
 does this he will be very apt to get out of breath, lose self-possession, 
 and become embarrassed. But I would suggest that on rising he should 
 place himself in the best position alike for ease, grace, and freedom of 
 action, the weight of the body being poised on the ball of one foot, the 
 other being either slightly in advance or behind, and in all changes of 
 position that foot should be moved first on which the weight of the body 
 is not supported. Of course dramatic action permits a much more 
 extended motion of the lower limbs than would be fitting elsewhere, but 
 in the case of the preacher, barrister, lecturer, or public speaker, about 
 one square yard is the limit within which he has to move, though in the 
 case of the two last-named, there appears to be a growing custom to 
 allow them a wider range for movement than was the case twenty years 
 ago. The head should be held erect, but still in a perfectly free and 
 natural position ; nothing stiff or rigid should be seen either in the 
 position of the head or neck. The latter must not be in any degree bent 
 down or lean forward too much, so as to cause the chin to protrude, for 
 this though a common, is a very ungraceful position, especially if the 
 speaker leans with his hands on the railings of the platform (as some 
 men often do) ; and such an awkward attitude not only greatly impairs 
 the general expression of the countenance, but most materially injures 
 the tone and power of the voice, as well as the general freedom of delivery. 
 The chest should be well expanded, and the shoulders thrown back, but 
 still carefully avoiding all appearance of stiffness or formality, and so the 
 lungs will be able to be easily but yet thoroughly inflated, and perform 
 all their important functions without any sort of restraint or hindrance. 
 Then let the speaker or reader endeavour calmly to survey the audience 
 he has to address, and quietly, noiselessly, but thoroughly inflate his lungs 
 by a full inspiration performed in the manner I have so fully explained 
 in the early portion of these lectures. The lungs being thus well sup- 
 plied with air at the beginning can easily be kept so afterwards by com- 
 paratively slight inspirations, taken steadily and systematically at all the 
 proper pauses at the different clauses of the sentence, and the full stop 
 which closes the sentence always allows the speaker or reader oppor- 
 tunity and ample time for completely recruiting his lungs with air. All 
 these suggestions, though they may seem minute and formal, will yet, 
 when carried out properly, contribute greatly to give personal ease and 
 self-possession to the novice in public speaking and reading. 
 
 The countenance is the primary seat of all expression, and in the 
 changes seen in the forehead, eyebrows, eyes, and lips, all the passions 
 and emotions of the soul may be successively seen as in a mirror. For 
 these to be wholly without expression is enough to destroy almost all the 
 power of the most earnest, vigorous, and impassioned language, so far 
 as the mere words are concerned, and there should always be appropriate 
 harmony in the expression of face, gesture, and language. But it is here 
 perhaps, more than in anything, that discretion must be our tutor, and 
 teach us to shun violence of action, and exuberance of gesture and 
 expression of countenance, on the one hand, and tame, cold, motionless 
 demeanour, and stolid, changeless face on the other. Due regard must
 
 LecT. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 281 
 
 always be had to the size of the place in which we are speaking, the 
 character of our audience, the nature of our subject, and the language 
 we have to utter ; and these being borne in mind, our chief instructors 
 must be sound judgment and good taste in these and kindred matters. 
 As you proceed with your speech, and warm with your progress in it, 
 there will doubtless occur some word or clause which you desire to 
 make emphatic, and you will almost instinctively use some action of the 
 arm and hand to enforce it on the attention of your audience. Now 
 avoid all narrow, awkward actions, proceeding only from the elbows. 
 Remember that the arms should always perform their chief motions 
 from the shoulders, the elbows by a gentle bend contributing to the prin- 
 cipal action. Grace depends on freedom and ease of movement, and the 
 curve which the hand usually describes in action, depends, as regards 
 its latitude of motion, very much on the character of the language that 
 is being uttered. If very earnest, passionate, or dignified in character, 
 the action of the arm or hand should be free and waving in the ampli- 
 tude of the curve it takes, but avoid, if possible, all mere violent angular 
 action. Of course, in quieter passages the curves of the arm and hand 
 are naturally very much less in extent. It is in elevated, declamatory, 
 and poetical passages, that the language is best accompanied by extended 
 motions ; in ordinary discourse, simple and easy transitions are alone 
 appropriate. 
 
 A chapter almost might be written on the use of the hands in ora- 
 tory. The ancient rhetoricians placed the highest value on the service 
 afforded by the hands in aiding the effect of public speaking, and seem 
 to have used them in a much gieater degree than we in our country 
 at the present time are wont to do. Quinctilian, in writing on this 
 part of our subject, says : — " It is a difficult matter to say what number 
 and variety of motions the hands have, without which all action would 
 be imperfect and maimed, since these motions are almost as various as 
 the words we speak. For the other parts of the body may be said to 
 help a man when he speaks, but the hands, if I may so express myself, 
 speak themselves. Do we not by the hands desire a thing ? Do we 
 not by the hands promise, call, dismiss, threaten, act the suppliant, 
 express our abhorrence or fear? By the hands do we not interrogate, 
 deny, show our grief, joy, doubt, confession, penitence, &c. ? Do not 
 these same hands provoke, forbid, entreat, approve, admire, and express 
 shame ? Do they not in pointing out localities and persons supply the 
 very place often of nouns, pronouns, and adverbs, insomuch that amid 
 all the number and diversity of tongues upon the earth, this infinite 
 use of the hands seems to remain the universal language common to 
 all ? " 
 
 Although, as I have said before, the hands should in all graceful 
 motion describe waving lines or curves, yet in energetic actions they 
 very often are, and to a considerable extent may be straightened. It 
 will be found that natural impulse almost always makes, and properly 
 makes, the termination of the motion of the hand on the emphatic word 
 or syllable, and this by a kind of stroke or beat, proceeding mainly from 
 the wrist, wliich, varying in power and degree with the character of the
 
 282 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XV. 
 
 language employed, and the personal energy and temperament of the 
 speaker, not only perfects and determines the action, but will be found 
 to increase materially the due weight or percussion of the voice. It 
 must be remembered that the right hand is essentially the hand of action, 
 and that the left hand is almost always used in mere subordination to 
 the right. The late well-known writer and teacher of elocution, Mr. 
 B. H. Smart, was accustomed in his instruction to pupils to group all 
 gesture under four heads, which he classified under the names of — I. 
 Emphatic; II. Referential; III. Impassioned; IV. Imitative. Of 
 these four groups what is meant by emphatic action is sufficiently 
 explained by the term. 
 
 " Referential Gesture is of frequent occurrence. By it the 
 speaker calls attention to what is actually present, or to what is imagined 
 for the moment to be present, or to the direction, real, or for the moment 
 conceived, in which anything has happened, or may happen. When 
 Lord Chatham speaks of the figure in the tapestry frowning on a degene- 
 rate representative of his race, he refers to the place by correspondent 
 action. When Canute is described ordering his chair to be placed on 
 the shore, the narrator, by action, fixes attention to some particular spot, 
 as if the sea were really present. When a picture of any kind is to be 
 exhibited to the mental view, the speaker will convey a lively impres- 
 sion in proportion as he himself conceives it clearly, and by action refers 
 consistently to its different parts, as if the scene were before the eyes of 
 his auditors. 
 
 " Of Impassioned Gesture it may be observed in this place, that, 
 though all gesture of this kind ought to be the effect of natural impulse, 
 yet the assumption of the outward signs of expression is one of the means 
 of rousing in the speaker the real feeling. This consideration, and this 
 alone, can justify any perceptive directions where nature seems to offer 
 herself as sole instructor. 
 
 " Imitative Gesture often takes place with good effect in speaking, 
 particularly in narration or description of a comic kind. To use it in 
 serious description would generally be to burlesque the subject ; though 
 even here, if sparingly and gracefully introduced, it is not always mis- 
 placed. For instance, in Collins' ' Ode on the Passions,' the narrator 
 may use imitative action when he tells us that — 
 
 *' ' Fear his hand its skill to try 
 Amid the chords bewildered laid, 
 And back recoiled : ' 
 
 and that 
 
 " ' Anser rushed- 
 
 In one rude clash he struck the lyre, 
 
 And swept with hurried hands the strings : * 
 
 and so, throughout the ode, wherever imitative action is possible without 
 extravagance. 
 
 " Of gesture thus discriminated, it will not be difficult to determine 
 the species which this or that department of speaking calls most into 
 play. The pulpit, for instance, hardly admits of other than emphatic 
 
 i
 
 Lect. XV.] ON ELOCUTION. 283 
 
 gesture, seldom of referential, not very often of impassioned, never oi 
 imitative. The senate and the bar may more frequently admit of refe- 
 rential and impassioned gesture, very seldom of imitative. It is only 
 the stage that makes full use of gesture drawn from all the four sources 
 that have been indicated. Yet the practice of i\\e pupil, whatever may 
 be his destined profession, ought not to be confined only to one or two 
 of these species of gesture. For, in order to bring forth the powers of 
 intellect and sensibility, a wide range of subjects must be chosen ; and 
 in all these, his business will be, to ' suit the action to the word, the 
 word to the action.'" 
 
 Some remarks in reference to the use of the arms and hands in 
 speaking, fell from the lips of our present Prime Minister, the 
 Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, last year at a literary and artistic 
 dinner, which are well worth consideration. He was regarding voice 
 and gesture from an aesthetic point of view, and in reference to the 
 latter, said : — " You know very well that, as far as Englishmen in general 
 are concerned, when engaged in argument, even in invective and decla- 
 mation, they make no use of their hands and arms. You would think 
 they might as well be cut off, as being really superfluous appen- 
 dages. I remember reading — and it is always very desirable to 
 read books that foreigners write about us ; depend upon it, it is the way 
 to know ourselves — a book written about forty years ago by an Italian 
 gentleman named Count Pecchio, recounti.ig his experiences in England; 
 and on visiting the chief people in London he says that he found their 
 drawing-rooms not only well furnished, but overcrowded with all kinds 
 of nick-nacks and bijouterie QdisWy liable to fracture. Being of a philoso- 
 phic turn, that gentleman began to connect in his mind causes and 
 effects, and he said, 'I now see the reason why the English people 
 never gesticulate. If they did, the whole of these beautilul objects — 
 their china, their Venetian glass, all the interesting but fragile arti- 
 cles with which their rooms are complete — would come to grief 
 I am not afraid that we should depart from our respective national 
 qualities, and it would be a great misfortune that we should do so, 
 but with the modern and innocent tendency to cosmopolitan fasiiions, 
 it may be that the Englishman will begin to unglue a little, and that the 
 idea will gradually find its way into his mind that Nature gave him 
 arms and hands, not merely for the purpose of digging the earth, or 
 navigating the sea, but likewise for purposes in connection with the 
 higher operations of the mind in giving effective and graceful expression 
 to his thoughts and feelings." 
 
 I shall enter more fully in my next Lecture into the subject of the 
 Expression of the Emotions by countenance and gesture, and examine 
 their influence in the portrayal of the various passions and feelings of 
 human nature in detail. It is a subject well deserving our attentive con- 
 sideration, when it is remembered that intonation, inflection, modulation, 
 and all the other elements that combined give true vocal expression 
 fail, however perfect they may be, to give delivery its full effect, if the 
 countenance, and indeed the whole body, do not sympathise and express 
 in harmony all those passions and feelings which are manifested in the
 
 I 
 
 284 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XV. 
 
 tones of tlie voice. Nothing can be more at variance with nature, and 
 destructive of all effect, than for an orator to maintain a rigid stillness 
 and an unvarying countenance. Indeed, where there exists anything 
 like imagination and warmth of natural feeling, it will be seen that the 
 tendency to manifest emotion is so spontaneous, alike as regards the 
 play of countenance and gesticulation, that the aid of any instruction 
 will more likely be required to chasten and subdue than to stimulate the 
 manifestation of the emotion by gesture and facial expression. In the 
 order of nature, as we see in the case of uncivilised races, and in the 
 children of all races, civilised as well as uncivilised, we shall, I think, 
 invariably find that in the manifestation of any passion or emotion it is 
 first indicated in the expression of the countenance, then by gestures, 
 and, last of all, by articulate speech. In calmer feelings, and in the 
 expression of the milder sentiments, I have noticed that in general 
 gesture does not precede but accompanies language. Dr. Erasmus 
 Darwin, in his " Temple of Nature," notices the manifestation of the 
 emotions by external signs in the following verses : — 
 
 " When strong desires or soft sensations move 
 The astonish'd intellect to rage or love. 
 Associate tribes of fibrous motions rise. 
 Flush the red cheek or light the laughing eyes. 
 
 Whence ever-active imitation finds 
 Th' ideal trains that pass through kindred minds ; 
 Her mimic acts associate thoughts excite, 
 And the first language enters at the sight. 
 
 Association's mystic power combines 
 
 Internal passion with external signs ; 
 
 From these dumb gestures first th' exchange began 
 
 Of viewless thought in bird, and beast, and man : 
 
 And still the stage by mimic art displa) s 
 Historic pantomime in modern days ; 
 And hence the enthusiast orator affords 
 Force to the feebler eloquence of words."
 
 LECTURE XVI. 
 
 The Expression of the Emotions by the Human Countenance — Quinctiliin's remarks 
 on the Head and Face generally — Diagrams of tlie Muscles of the Face from Sir 
 Charles Bell's work and Henle's "Anatomic des Menschen " — The Forehead — 
 The Eyes — Remarks of Dr. Austin — Buffon's description of the Eyes and their 
 Power of Expression — Engel's Views on this Subject — Delsarte's opinions in regard 
 to the Eyes — Letter from Mr. Darwin on the question — The Eyebrows and 
 Eyelids as Adjuncts in Expression — Quinctilian's Oljservations — The Nostrils — The 
 Mouth and Lips — Quotation from Buffon and Dr. Austin — The Functions of the 
 Mouth and Lips in the Expression of the Emotions. 
 
 N this Lecture I propose entering into an examination at some 
 length of those different features of the human countenance 
 which express so vividly the various passions and emotions 
 of human nature. The authorities I have consulted have 
 been many, but I am chiefly indebted for the results I shall 
 present you with this evening to Dr. Gilbert Austin's " Chironomia," 
 Sir Charles Bell's " Anatomy and Philosophy of Expression," Moreau's 
 edition of " Lavater on Physiognomy," the last edition of the Abbe 
 Thibout's admirable work, entitled, "Action Oratoire," and Mr. Charles 
 Darwin's most deeply interesting book " On the Expression of the 
 Emotions in Man and Animals." 
 
 As regards the head and face generally, no better remarks can be 
 offered than those made by Quinctilian, who says : " As the head gives 
 the crowning grace to the whole body, so does it principally contribute 
 to the expression of grace in delivery. It should be held in an erect 
 and natural position. For when hung down it expresses humility, when 
 thrown backwards arrogance, when inclined to either side languor, and'^ 
 when stiff and rigid it exhibits a want of polish and refinement. Its 
 movements should be suited to the character of the delivery, and be in 
 harmony with the actions of the hands and the movements of the body. 
 The eyes are in general directed to the quarter to which gesture points, 
 except when we have occasion to condemn, to refuse, or to require any 
 object to be removed; on which occasions we should at the same 
 moment express aversion in the countenance and reject by the gesture, 
 as in these lines, 'Banish, ye gods, this monster from the earth.' 
 "I hold myself not worthy of such honour."
 
 286 
 
 AVA^G'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Lect. XVI. 
 
 D-1 
 
 Fig. I. — Diagram of the muscles of the face 
 from Sir C. Bell. 
 
 Fig. 2. — Diagram from Ilenle. 
 
 A Occipito frontalis, or frontal muscle. 
 B Corrugator supercilii, or corrugator 
 
 muscle. 
 C Orbicularis palpebrarum, or orbicular 
 
 muscles of the eyes. 
 D Pyramidalis nasi, or pyramidal muscle 
 
 of the nose. 
 E Levator labii superioris alteque nasi. 
 
 3. — Diagram from Henle. 
 
 F Levator labii proprius. 
 
 G Zygomatic muscle. 
 
 H ]Mal:uis muscle. 
 
 I Little zygomatic muscle. 
 
 K Triangularis oris, or depressor anguli 
 
 oris. 
 L Quadratus nienti. 
 M Risorius, part of the Platysma myoides.
 
 Lect. XVL] on elocution. 287 
 
 The head alone is capable of many expressive movements ; for 
 besides those inclinations of it which show assent or rejection, approval 
 or disapproval, there are other well-known motions known to humanity 
 which indicate modesty, doubt, admiration, or indignation. But to use 
 a motion of the head alone, unaccompanied by any other gesture, is 
 considered ungraceful in action.* 
 
 Let us now direct our attention to the countenance generally. Plato 
 says most truly that in the head and countenance may be seen the 
 whole man. And this we feel instinctively to be true, and there are 
 few countenances by which we are not more or less attracted or 
 repelled, even at the first glance. It is in the human face that the 
 passions and emotions of the soul may most vividly be read. The 
 language that is written there, is one that is understood by all countries 
 and all races of mankind, and speaks often with a power that equals 
 even if it does not surpass, that of voice and speech. Let us take this 
 subject analytically first, and consider the different parts of the 
 countenance that are the chief seats of emotional expression. The 
 excellent diagrams (see opposite page), showing the muscles of the face, 
 are taken from Sir Charles Bell's celebrated work and Henle's 
 " Anatomic des Menschen ; " and for the use of them here, I am 
 indebted to the courtesy of Mr. Darwin. 
 
 Nothing contributes more to the general nobility of the countenance 
 and expression of intelligence than an ample and well-developed fore- 
 head. The frontal muscle {occipito frontalis) with which it is provided 
 is a powerful instrument of action in the wrinkling of the forehead ; but 
 as far as I can judge never acts alone, but always in conjunction with 
 the corrtigator muscles of the eyebrows. 
 
 Next in order I take the eyes and their powerful adjuncts in expression 
 — the eyebrows and eyelids. The remarks of Dr. Gilbert Austin in the 
 third chapter of his ' Chironomia,' in reference to the power of the 
 eyes in commanding the attention of an audience, are well worthy of 
 being quoted here. " As the principal object of every public speaker," 
 he says, "must be to obtain the attention of his audience, so every cir 
 cumstance which can contribute to this end, must be considered most 
 important. In the external demeanour nothing will be found so 
 effectually to attract attention and to detain it, as the direction of the 
 eyes. It is well known that the eyes can influence persons at a distance ; 
 and that they can select from a multitude a single individual and turn 
 their looks on him, though many lie in the same direction. The whole 
 person seems to be affected in some measure by this influence of another's 
 eyes ; but the eyes themselves feel it with the most lively sensibility. It 
 is in the power of a public speaker to obtain the attention of any indi- 
 vidual by turning his eyes upon him, though the matter of his discourse 
 may not be particularly addressed or relating to that person. But if he 
 direct his looks into the eyes of any one of his audience, he holds his 
 attention irresistibly fixed. We seem to have the power, as it were, of 
 touching each other by the sense of sight, and to be endued with some- 
 thing of that fascination of the eye, which is attributed toother animals, 
 * Quinct., lib. xi. c. 3.
 
 288 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI. 
 
 and which the serpent is particularly said to possess. Not only is every 
 one conscious when he is looked ui)on himself, but he even perceives 
 when others are looked upon. The line of tlie direction of the axis of 
 the eye, however invisible or imaginary, seems in effect as if it could be 
 seen, and that in every instance throughout a great assembly, crossing 
 and radiating in a thousand directions from the centre of every orb of 
 sight. 
 
 However these circumstances may be accounted for, the public 
 speaker will judiciously take care to avail himself of them in a proper 
 manner. He will therefore turn his eyes upon the eyes of his audience, 
 and in the more important and earnest passages will seem to look, as it 
 were, into the very pupils of their eyes.* 
 
 The foregoing passage is as applicable to the art of Public Reading 
 as that of Public Speaking. For if a reader keeps his eyes fixed upon 
 the pase the whole time he is reading aloud, he loses one-half the 
 effect he would otherwise produce, to say nothing of the waste of power 
 caused by so much of the vocal wave of sound falling direct upon the 
 page he is reading, and so being thrown back upon himself, instead of 
 travelling on in a series of successive undulations and reaching properly 
 the auditory nerves of his hearers. For one who has to read aloud, the 
 art cannot too soon be acquired of training the eye to gather at a glance 
 the words in each clause, and then successively pronouncing them with 
 the head held easily erect and the eyes directed towards the reader's 
 audience. Another remark of Dr. Austin is also worthy of notice. "If 
 it be surprising," he says, "that the direction of the axis of vision (as it 
 may be called) of every eye is capable of being traced by any observer 
 as accurately as if a radiant and visible line were drawn from each ; not 
 less surprising is the power of judging by the expression of another's eye 
 when it is that it exercises no. speculation, even though the axis be in 
 the direction of a particular object. This singular expression may be 
 termed bending the eye on vacancy ; in which case distinct vision is 
 not intended, but the focus falls short of the objects in the line of the 
 axis of the eye. Persons in deep thought often look in this manner 
 with their eyes perfectly open, directed towards some objects and yet 
 manifestly not seeing them ; but void of speculation, as those who walk 
 in their sleep. Of this expression every beholder is sensible ; it gives 
 the appearance of abstracted meditation and inward retirement. The 
 short-sighted eye, however near to the description, is easily distinguished 
 from the eye bent on vacancy. In the vacant eye the peculiar expression 
 is observed; in the short-sighted eye the peculiar conformation.! 
 
 No writer has described more eloquently and poetically the power of 
 the human cpuntenance to express emotions, and especially of the eyes, 
 than the great French naturalist, Buffon. He says, in language as truth- 
 ful as it is beautiful : — 
 
 " Lorsque I'ame est tranquille, toutes les parties du visage sont 
 dans un ^tat de repos ; leur proportion, leur union, leur ensemble, mar- 
 quent encore assez la douce harmonie des pensdes, et re'pondent au 
 
 * Austin's Chironomia, pp. 103-4. t Ibid., pp. 105-6.
 
 Lect. XVI.] ON ELOCUTION. 289 
 
 calme de I'interieure ; mais lorsque lame est agitee, la face humaine 
 deviant un tableau vivant, ou les passions sont rendues avec autant de 
 delicatesse que d'energie, ou chaque mouvement de I'ame est exprime 
 par un trait, chaque action par un caractere, dont I'expression vive et 
 prompte devance la volonte, nous decele et rend au dehors par des signes 
 path^tiques les images de nos secretes agitations. Mais c'est surtout 
 dans les yeux qu'elles se peignent et qu'on peut les reconnaitre ; I'oeil 
 appartient a I'ame plus qu'aucune autre organe ; il semble y toucher et 
 participer a tous ses mouvements; il en exprime les passions les plus vives 
 et les emotions les plus tumultueuses, comme les mouvements les plus 
 doux et les sentiments les plus delicats ; il les rend dans toute leur force, 
 dans toute leur purete tels qu'ils viennent de naitre ; il les transmet 
 par des traits rapides que portent dans un autre ame le feu, Taction, 
 i'image de celle dont ils partent ; I'oeil regoit et reflechit en meme temps 
 la lumiere de la pensee et la chaleur du sentiment, c'est le sens de I'esprit 
 et la langue de I'intelligence." 
 
 Dr. Austin, too, in his "Chironomia," justly remarks (pp. 106, T07) 
 that, " as much of the mind is discovered by the countenance, and par- 
 ticularly through the windows of the eyes, so all men examine the 
 countenance and look into the eyes of those from whom they have any 
 expectations, or with whom they are to have any important intercourse 
 or dealings. Nay, the very domestic animals learn thus to read the 
 human countenance, and the dog is found to look for his surest and most 
 intelligible instructions into his master's eyes. To look fairly in the 
 face, or rather into the eyes 6f those who are objects of respect, bespeaks, 
 in youth especially, a candid and ingenuous mind ; as on the contrary 
 an habitual cast-down look, as it is commonly called, and averted or 
 unsteady eyes, are universally understood to indicate the opposite 
 character. The reserve and dark consciousness of an unworthy heart 
 do not willingly expose themselves to be penetrated by the beam of a 
 searching eye. But this is altogether different from the occasional down- 
 cast bashfulness of modesty, which as soon as it is encouraged to look up 
 becomes enlightened with candour and intelligence. 
 
 The remarks of an eminent writer of the eighteenth century, M. 
 Engel, who published a learned and elaborate work on the subject, 
 entitled " Idees sur le geste," in the form of a series of letters, says in his 
 sixth letter : — 
 
 " L'ame parle le plus souvent, et de la maniere la plus facile et la 
 plus claire par les parties dont les muscles sont les plus mobiles ; dent 
 elle s'expliquera le plus souvent par les traits du visage et principalement 
 des yeux ; mais ce ne sera que rarement qu'elle emploiera les change- 
 ments dans les attitudes caracterisques de tout le corps. La premiere 
 espece de ces expressions, savoir celles des yeux, s'opere avec tant de 
 facilite et si spontanement en ne laissant, pour ainsi dire, aucune inter- 
 valle entre le sentiment et son effet, que le sangfroid le plus refle'chi et 
 Tart le plus exerce a masquer les pense'es les plus secretes, n'en pou- 
 vent pas arreter I'explosion, quoiqu'ils maitrisent tout le reste du corps. 
 L'homme qui veut cacher les affections de son ame, doit surtout prendre 
 
 X
 
 290 KJNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVF. 
 
 garde de ne pas se laisser fixer dans les yeux ; il ne doit pas moins 
 veiller avec soin sur les muscles qui avoisinent la bouche, qui lors des 
 certains mouvemens interieures se maitrisent tres difficilement. ' Si les 
 hommes,' dit Leibnitz, ' voulaient examiner davantage avec un veritable 
 esprit observateur les signes exterieures de leurs passions, le talent de se 
 contrefaire deviendrait un art moins facile.' ' Cependant I'ame con- 
 serve toujours quelque pouvoir sur les muscles ; mais elle n'en a aucun 
 sur le sang,' dit Descartes ; et par cette raison la rougeur ou la paleur 
 subite dependent peu ou presque point de notre volonte." 
 
 It is right, however, that I should mention that the late most eminent 
 teacher of the art of Dramatic Elocution in Paris, Francois Delsarte, 
 who died about five years ago, and whose pupil, Rachel, was perhaps the 
 highest type of his school on the stage of France, as Macready was on 
 the stage of England, always contended that the eyes themselves, apart 
 from the other features, did not express the emotions, but only indicate 
 the objects that excite the emotions. He says : " Cover the lower part 
 of the face with your hand, and impart to your look all the energy of 
 which it is susceptible, and it will be impossible for the most sagacious 
 observer to discover whether your look expresses anger or attention. 
 On the other hand, uncover the lower part of the face, and if the 
 nostrils are dilated, if the contracted lips are drawn up, there is no doubt 
 that anger is written on the countenance. An observation which confirms 
 the purely indicative part performed by the eye is, that among raving 
 madmen, the lower part of the face is violently contracted, while the 
 vague and uncertain look shows clearly that their fury has no object." 
 
 Now, the opinion of such an accomplished instructor, and one who 
 could number among his pupils not only such artistes as Rachel and 
 Macready, but the gifted Sontag, Madeleine Brohan, Barbot, Pasea, and 
 others of eminence on the French stage ; and among the orators of the 
 French pulpit, such men as Pere Lacordaire, Pere Hyacinthe, and other 
 celebrated preachers, is undoubtedly entitled to liigh respect. But I 
 cannot think here that Delsarte is altogether right. Undoubtedly the 
 eyelids, eyebrows, and mouth are most powerful adjuncts in the expres- 
 sion of the emotions ; but I am certainly disposed, from the observations 
 I have made, to come to the conclusion that the eyes themselves do grow 
 bright or dull under the influence of certain emotions, that they do 
 sparkle in mirth or melt in pity. On this point I was anxious to obtain 
 the opinion of so distinguished a naturalist and so careful and accurate 
 an observer as Mr. Darwin, and I accordingly wrote to him on the sub- 
 ject, saying that I ventured to differ from Delsarte, and should like 
 much to know whether Mr. Darwin's views on this point were in accord- 
 ance with mine or not. In compliance with my request, Mr. Darwin 
 favoured me at oace with an answer, which I give in his own words : — 
 
 " Down, Beckenham, Kent. 
 
 " My Dear Sir, — I thank you for your very obliging letter, and for the 
 information in regard to Delsarte's views respecting the eyes. Although 
 it is very easy to deceive one's self on such a point, yet after reading over
 
 Lect. XVI.] ON ELOCUTION. 291 
 
 what I have said, I cannot think that we are in error. Surely the different 
 appearance of the eyes in hectic fever, and during great exhaustion to 
 which Dr. Piderit alludes, cannot be accounted for simply by the posi- 
 tion of eyelids and eyebrows. Could you not observe the eyes of some 
 one looking grave, and then smiling ? I will endeavour to do so. 
 
 " I remain, my dear Sir, 
 "August 19th. "Yours faithfully, 
 
 " C. J. Plumptre, Esq. " Charles Darwin." 
 
 I am very glad to find that the opinion I had formed is confirmed by 
 so eminent an authority as Mr. Darwin.* Extended observation will, I 
 think, further confirm the fact that the eyes themselves, apart from the 
 adjuncts of any other features, do in themselves vary in brightness and 
 expression under the influences of various emotions. In the recently 
 published volume of the " Life of the Eminent Tragedian, Charles 
 Young," by his son, the Rev. Julian Young, the author, speaking per- 
 sonally of what he had noticed in the great actor, Edmund Kean, says : 
 "When kindled by real passion off the stage, or by simulated passion on 
 it, his eye gleamed with such scorching lustre as to make those who 
 stood beneath its rays quail." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, in the accounts he gives to Lockhart of his interview 
 with Burns, says : " There was a strong expression of sense and shrewd- 
 ness in all his lineaments ; the eye alone, I think, indicated the poetical 
 character and temperament. It was large and of a dark cast, which 
 ■ glowed (I say litej-aUy glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. 
 I never saw such another eye in a human head, although I have seen the 
 most distinguished men of my time.f 
 
 In Meister's account of Diderot, contained in the 13th volume of 
 Grimm's " Correspondance Litte'raire," I find it stated that " Diderot's 
 eyes were habitually kindly and sympathetic in expression ; but as he 
 grew excited in conversation, they literally sparkled like fire." Many 
 more similar instances might be given in support of the opinion I hold, 
 that the eyes in themselves have the power of growing bright or becoming 
 dull under the influence of different emotions. Addison in " The Spec- 
 tator" for June 8, 171 1 (No. 86), says, " I have seen an eye curse for half- 
 an-hour together, and an eyebrow call a man a scoundrel." And again, 
 "The Spectator" for November 26, 1712 (No. 541), says, "But the fact 
 is, the face is the epitome of the whole man, and the eyes are the epitome 
 of the face." No, 250 of the same journal for December 17, 171 1, has 
 also a very amusing paper on the eyes. % 
 
 It appears to me, then, in regard to the expression of the various 
 emotions, we are warranted in saying that the eyes sparkle, and, as it 
 were, dance in mirth ; that they beam with a tender light in love and 
 
 * Since this letter was written, now more than four years ago, Mr, Darwin has 
 favoured me with another communication, stating that further observation has in no 
 way altered his opinion. 
 
 + Life of Burns by Principal Shairp, pp. 50, ^1. 
 
 X In Mr. R. Brudenell Carter's excellent work "On Good and Bad Eyesight" 
 (London, Macmillan), just published, will be found some very interesting remarl^s 
 on the emotions that cause the eyes to grow bright or dull in appearance.
 
 292 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVI. 
 
 affection ; that they blaze and seem to flash fire in rage ; tliat tliey melt 
 in grief and pity ; that they are raised up in joy, hope, and supplication ; 
 that they are cast down in gloom, despondency, and shame ; that in the 
 expression of scorn and contempt, they appear to measure their object 
 from head to foot; that they are widely opened, and stare more or less 
 in amazement, wonder, and surprise ; that they are protruded in horror ; 
 are restless in anxiety; are fixed and resolute in confidence, courage, and 
 secrecy ; and seem cast on vacancy in abstract thought. The muscles 
 which perform these varied functions are the orbicular muscles. (See 
 diagrams.) 
 
 The eyebrows and eyelids are most important adjuncts to the expres- 
 siveness of the eyes. The eyebrows are elevated in amazement, joy, and 
 hope ; they are depressed in grief, despair, and authority ; they are 
 knitted together and produce the frown of anger and the other sterner 
 passions, and seem to droop in weakness and dejection. The muscles 
 which control these actions are the corrugator and orbicular muscles. 
 (See diagrams.) 
 
 What Quinctilian says on these points is as truthful as it is eloquent. 
 He states, in the third chapter of his eleventh book, as follows : — "In 
 order to bring about all the various expressions of the eyes, the eyelids 
 and the cheeks lend assistance by their auxiliary service, and the eye- 
 brows also contribute greatly. For they give the form to the eyes in 
 a certain degree, and altogether control the forehead. By them the 
 forehead is contracted, raised, or lowered ; and accordingly as any cir- 
 cumstance particularly affects the mind, the blood which is affected in 
 its movement by the emotions, when it reaches the skin, delicate with 
 modesty, is diffused in blushes ; and when it suddenly retires through 
 fear, it entirely forsakes the forehead, which it leaves pale and cold. 
 When the blood is temperate, the forehead appears like the serene sky. 
 It is a fault in the eyebrows either to be altogether immovable or to 
 move too much, or to be at variance by being unequally raised, or to be 
 in any manner different from what we have mentioned. For anger is 
 manifested by the contraction of the brows, sorrow by their depression, 
 and cheerfulness by their relaxation." 
 
 The nostrils play comparatively a subordina.te part in the expression 
 of the emotions. When we are calm and composed they are relaxed, 
 but become rigid in violent passion, in which condition also, the Abbe 
 Dubroca says, he has observed that the ahz of the nostrils become 
 swollen and are greatly distended. In disgust, scorn, and contempt 
 the nostrils are drawn up, and (according to Quinctilian) in the mani- 
 festation of pride and haughtiness. The muscles which act upon them 
 are those of the pyramidalis nasi and the levator labii superioris alccque 
 fiasi. The cheeks contribute to expression chiefly by their becoming 
 more or less flushed or pale under the influence of certain emotions. 
 
 Last of all we come to the mouth and lip, which, as organs of expres- 
 sion, are as important, even if not more important, than the eyes them- 
 selves. The mouth indeed may well excite our deepest interest and 
 attention, whether on account of the variety and precision of its action, 
 or the language and tones which issue from it, or the general impression 
 
 I
 
 Lect. XVI.] ON ELOCUTION. 293 
 
 which its shape and character make upon the beholder. The descrip- 
 tion which Buffon gives of the mouth and lips may well be cited here, 
 for it is as eloquent as it is true : — " La bouche et les levres sont, apres 
 les yeux, les parties du visage qui ont le plus de mouvement et d'expres- 
 sion ; les passions influent sur ces mouvemens ; la bouche en marque les 
 differens caracteres par les diffe'rentes formes qu'elle prend: I'organe de 
 la voix anime encore cette partie et la rend plus vivante que tous les 
 autres ; la couleur vermeille des levres, la blancheur de I'email des dents, 
 tranchent avec tant d'avantage sur les autres couleurs du visage qu'elles 
 paraissent en faire le point de vue principal : on fixe en effet les yeux 
 sur la bouche d'un homme qui parle, et on les y arrete plus longtemps 
 que sur toutes les autres parties. Chaque mot, chaque articulation, 
 chaque son produisent des mouvemens differents dans les levres. Quel- 
 ques varie'es et quelques rapides que soient ces mouvemens, on pourrait 
 les distinguer tous les uns des autres. On a vu des sourds en connaitre 
 si parfaitement les differences et les nuances successives, qu'ils enten- 
 daient ce qu'on disait en voyant comme on le disait."* 
 
 Dr. Austin well remarks that it is more important to attend to the 
 mouth than even to the eyes themselves. " The eyes," he says, " can at 
 all times assume the character suited to the expression of the moment. 
 But the mouth being one of the softest features is soonest changed, and 
 if it once loses its character of sweetness, it changes perhaps for ever. 
 How few mouths which have been beautiful in youth (that season of 
 happiness and smiles) preserve that character beyond youth ; whilst the 
 eyes are often found to retain their lustre, or to flash occasionally with 
 their early brightness even in advanced life. Every bad habit defaces 
 the soft beauty of the mouth, and leaves indelible on it the traces of their 
 injury. The stains of intemperance discolour it ; ill-nature draws it 
 down ; envy deforms, and voluiJtuousness bloats it. The impressions of 
 sorrow upon it are easily traced ; the injuries which it suffers from ill- 
 health are manifest, and accidents may often deform its symmetry. It 
 is sweetened by benevolence, chiselled by taste, rendered firm by wisdom, 
 and composed by discretion ; and these traces, if habitually fixed, last 
 unaltered in its soft forms throughout every varying stage of life. We 
 should, therefore, labour in our own persons, and watch those of the 
 young under our control, to form, if possible, this pliant and characteristic 
 feature to that grace and beauty of form which is so apt to be marred by 
 ill-temper and bad passions. But whatever may be the beauty and 
 expression of the mouth which prepossesses in favour of an orator, a 
 well-formed mouth is to be desired on another and most important 
 account, which is for the advantage of more perfect articulation and 
 grace in delivery. An ill-formed, uncouth, underhung or gaping mouth 
 can never finish perfectly or correctly the articulation of words, nor 
 deliver them with that winning grace which delights the ear as well as 
 the eye of every hearer. The authors of the fantastic legends of the 
 ' Fairy Tales ' often allude to the magic gift of dropping at every 
 word pearls and diamonds from the lips. A near approach to this 
 imaginary gift is made in real life by those who acquire the most perfect 
 * Buffon : "liist. Nat. de rHomme," p. 527.
 
 29d KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION: [Lect. XVI. 
 
 eloquence ; who join to correct and finished enunciation the graces of 
 a refined taste and the riches of a cultivated mind. On their lips sit 
 persuasion and delight, and the words which fall from them may well be 
 compared to the brightest gems." * 
 
 The muscles which act upon the lips are the levator labii stiperioris ZLnd 
 t\\e levator labii propriiis, while the shape and opening and shutting of 
 the mouth are produced by the actions of those muscles which are termed 
 the zygomatic, the inalaris, the little zygomatic, the depressor atiguli oris, 
 the quadratus meiiti and the risorius. The lips play a most prominent 
 part in the manifestation of all the emotions. In joy and laughter they 
 are drawn back at the corners and raised ; in sorrow and dejection they 
 are depressed, and in some instances slightly projected ; in scorn and 
 contempt they are curled upwards, in disgust downwards ; in decision 
 and energy they are firmly compressed together ; in weakness and irre- 
 solution they are relaxed ; in agony they are often tightly pressed 
 together ; and in the case of vexation, it may frequently be noticed that 
 the lower lip is bitten by the upper front teeth. I have also observed 
 that in persons of quick and lively intellect the lips are highly muscular, 
 elastic, and mobile in their actions ; while in persons of weak intellect 
 the lips are loose and pendulous. 
 
 In fear, in languor, in wonder, and in the act of eager listening, it will 
 be observed in most cases that the lower jaw falls, and the mouth is con- 
 sequently more or less open in extent. Mr. Darwin in his " Expression 
 of the Emotions " notices all these facts, and the last eight chapters of 
 his most deeply interesting work may be read by the student with the 
 greatest profit and advantage. 
 
 * Austin's "Chironomia," pp. 123. 124.
 
 LECTURE XVII. 
 
 Erasmus Darwin's Theory of the IMode in which we become acquainted with the 
 Emotions of others — Opinion of Edmund Burke — Views of the Tragedian, Betterton 
 - — Expression of the various Emotions :Joy, Pleasure, Cheerfulness, Love, Affection, 
 Sympathy, Pity, Devotion, Veneration, Gravity, Seriousness, Perplexity, Attention, 
 Surprise, Wonder, Amazement, Admiration, Appeal, Persuasion, Hope, Desire, 
 Tranquillity, Acquiescence, Nei^ation, Raillery, Irony, Anxiety, Dejection, Grief, 
 ]\Iisery, Despair, Fear, Terror, Horror, Meditation, Abstraction, Reverie, Vexation, 
 Ill-Temper, Determination, Shame^Views of Dr. Burgh, Sir C. Bell, and Mr. 
 Darwin. 
 
 [N my last Lecture I brought before your notice analytically 
 the various features of the human countenance, and the 
 parts they severally play in the manifestation of the different 
 emotions. This evening I propose regarding the subject 
 synthetically, and examining how they act in combination 
 in expressing the emotions. 
 
 The elder Darwin justly remarks in one of his notes to his " Temple 
 of Nature," that "there are two ways by which we become acquainted 
 with the passions of others : first, by having observed the effects of them, 
 as of fear or anger, on our own bodies, we know at sight when others 
 are under the influence of these passions. So children, long before they 
 can speak or understand the language of their parents, may be frightened 
 by an angry countenance, or soothed by smiles and blandishments ; 
 and secondly, when we assume the countenance, or put ourselves in the 
 attitude that any passion naturally occasions, we soon, in some degree, 
 acquire that passion ; hence, when those who are angry indulge them- 
 selves by giving vent to their anger in loud oaths and violent actions of 
 the arms. and hands, they actually increase their anger by the very mode 
 in which they express themselves ; and on the contrary, the counterfeited 
 smile of pleasure in indifferent or disagreeable company soon brings with 
 it a portion of the reality, as is well illustrated by ^Ir. Burke in his 
 ' Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful,' when he says that public speakers 
 who use gesture not only seem in earnest, but for the time actually 
 become so, even though at first they might have been indifferent ; and 
 again Burke remarks : ' It appears to me very clearly from this, and 
 from many other examples, that when the body is disposed by any means 
 whatsoever to such emotions as it would acquire by the means of a
 
 296 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. 
 
 certain passion, it will of itself excite something very like that passion 
 in the mind.' " 
 
 I think there can be no doubt of the truth of this, and it is confirmed 
 by the authority of many eminent observers in past and present times. 
 I have in my possession an old book (date 1 710) containing the biography 
 of the great tragedian of the latter part of the seventeenth century, 
 }3etterton, which contains also an elaborate treatise by him on the art of 
 dramatic elocution, of the existence of which few seem to be aware. 
 This treatise abounds in illustrations of the truth of the remarks of 
 Edmund Burke and Dr. Darwin, and similar instances may also be found 
 in the recently published biographies of the two eminent actors, Young 
 and Macready. 
 
 No doubt the restraints which high moral principles, or the culture of 
 good society, lay upon the external and uncontrolled expression of our 
 more violent passions, will do much to keep them within proper bounds ; 
 and hence one of the advantages of education and civilisation. 
 
 I propose, then, now to enter into an examination of the mode in which 
 our various passions and emotions affect our physical organisation, and 
 render themselves externally visible to others ; and in this investigation 
 I will take first in order the more pleasurable and amiable feelings of 
 our nature, and then those of a sterner and more painful character. 
 Such an investigation is well worthy of our most attentive study, for, as 
 Betterton observes in his " Treatise," every passion or emotion of the 
 mind has its proper and peculiar countenance, tone of voice, and gesture ; 
 and the whole body of man — all his looks, and every sound of his voice, 
 like strings on an instrument, receive their sounds from the various 
 impulses of his passions. Joy, especially when sudden and intense, 
 expresses itself by clapping the hands, leaping, shouting, loud laughter, 
 and other apparently purposeless actions. The sound of laughter is 
 produced (as Mr. Darwin remarks) by a deep inspiration, followed by 
 short, interrupted, spasmodic contractions of the chest, and especially 
 of the diaphragm. Hence we hear of " Laughter holding both his sides." 
 The lower jaw often quivers up and down, and during the action of 
 laughing, the mouth is opened more or less widely, with the corners 
 drawn much backwards as well as a little upwards, and the upper lip is 
 somewhat raised. The drawing back of the corners is best seen in 
 moderate laughter, and especially in a broad smile — the latter epithet 
 showing how the mouth is widened.* The eyes are bright and sparkling, 
 opened wide, save in the act of laughing, and are often, when the joy 
 partakes of a religious character, cast upwards, and not unfrequently in 
 extreme joy or rapture are suffused with tears. The voice is pitched in 
 the highest keys, and abounds in extreme rising inflections — the light 
 bounding poise and quick time. In what may be termed moderate joy, 
 such as pleasure, high spirits, cheerfulness, we have the characteristics of 
 expression as in joy, only more or less subdued in their manifestation. 
 Indeed, Sir Charles Bell says, " In all the exhilarating emotions, the 
 eyebrows, eyelids, the nostrils, and the angles of the mouth are raised, 
 and the whole face seems to expand." 
 
 — " Darwin's '■ Expression of ihe Emotions," p. 230,
 
 Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 297 
 
 I come next to Love, affection, and what are usually called the softer 
 or more tender passions. In all these, but varying in degree according 
 to the intensity of the passion, we have the forehead smooth and open, 
 the eyebrows slightly raised and arched ; the eyes beaming with a gentle 
 lustre, and smiles playing upon the lips. The tendency to embrace, 
 caress, and kiss the beloved object appears to be universal among the 
 civilised races of mankind ; but Mr. Darwin says the last-named sign of 
 affection is wholly unknown to the New Zealanders, the Tahitians, 
 Papuans, Australians, the Somals of Africa, the natives of Tierra del 
 Fuego, and the Esquimaux. In the expression of love, affection, &c., 
 by the voice, we have a considerable range of rising inilections pitched 
 in keys more or less high, and they are often modulated into a tender 
 minor key. 
 
 Sympathy is, in Mr. Darwin's opinion, a separate or distinct emotion, 
 and one that is especially apt to excite the lachrymal" glands. The eye- 
 brows are contracted usually, and in Pity, which is a mixed emotion, 
 for with sympathy there is usually blended a certain amount of sorrow 
 and regard, the eyes are bent upon the object that excites the feeling, 
 are frequently suffused with tears, and all the features seem, as it were, 
 drawn together. In the voice rising inflections prevail, and these are 
 usually pitched in minor keys. 
 
 Devotion may be considered a mixed feeling compounded of love, 
 veneration, and often a certain amount of dread or fear. The eyes are in 
 general cast upward ; the worshipper sinks upon his knees, the hands--' 
 are raised commonly as high as the breast, are upturned, and the palms 
 folded together. The direction of the eyes upwards is, in Mr. Darwin's 
 opinion, a movement that " is probably a conventional one — the result 
 of the common belief that Heaven, the source of Divine Power to which 
 we pray, is seated above us." He further goes on to observe that a 
 humble, kneeling posture, with the hands upturned and palms joined, 
 appears to us, from long habit, a gesture so appropriate to devotion that 
 it might be thought to be innate ; but he states that he has not met 
 with any evidence to this effect with the various extra-European races 
 of mankind. He thinks that Mr. Hensleigh Wedgwood has appa- 
 rently given the true explanation, though this implies that the attitude is 
 one of slavish subjection : " When the suppliant kneels and holds up 
 his hands with the palms joined, he represents a captive who proves 
 the completeness of his submission by offering up his hands to be bound 
 by the victor. It is the pictorial representation of the Latin dat-e manus, 
 to signify submission." Hence it is not probable, Mr. Darwin thinks, 
 that either the uplifting of the eyes or the joining of the open hands 
 under the influence of devotional feelings are innate, or truly expressive 
 actions ; and this could hardly have been expected, for it is very doubt- 
 ful whether feeUngs, such as we should now rank as devotional, affected 
 the hearts of men, whilst they remained in past ages in an uncivilised 
 condition.* In gravity, or serious thought, such as when the mind is 
 meditating upon some important subject, the eyebrows are somewhat 
 drawn down, the eyes often seem to be bent on vacancy, the mouth is 
 
 * Darwin's "Expression of the Emotion?:," p. 221.
 
 298 A'ING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVIL 
 
 shut, and the lips firmly pressed together. Mr. Darwin remarks that '"a 
 man may be absorbed in the deepest thought, and his brow will remain 
 smooth until he encounters some obstacle to his train of reasoning, or is 
 interrupted by some disturbance, and then a frown passes like a shadow 
 over his brow." This is caused by the action of the corrugator muscles, 
 which, by their contracting, lower the eyebrows and bring them closer 
 together, thereby producing vertical furrows in the forehead, or in other 
 words, a frown. Sir. C. Bell* expresses his opinion, that the corrugator 
 is " the most remarkable muscle of the human face. It knits the eye- 
 brows with an energetic effort, which unaccountably, but irresistibly, 
 conveys the idea of mind." The posture of the body and limbs is 
 usually composed, and without much motion ; but, as Mr. Darwin 
 observes, in perplexed reflection we find that it is often accompanied by 
 certain movements or gestures. At such times we commonly raise our 
 hands to our foreheads, our mouths, or chins ; but we do not act thus, 
 as far as he has seen, when we are quite lost in meditation, and no diffi- 
 culty is encountered. We can understand why the forehead should be 
 pressed or rubbed, as deep thought tries the brain, but why the hand 
 should be raised to the mouth, or chin, or other parts of the face, is not 
 so clear.f It is pretty nearly certain that men of all races frown when 
 they are in any way perplexed in thought. When grave meditation 
 expresses itself in language, the voice is usually pitched in low keys ; sub- 
 dued inflections and the heavy poise prevail, and the delivery in point 
 of time is slow. 
 
 We are led next, by an almost imperceptible gradation, to consider 
 attention, surprise, wonder, and amazement, for, as Mr. Darwin very 
 justly remarks, attention, if sudden and close, often graduates into sur- 
 prise ; and this into astonishment ; and this into stupefied amaze- 
 ment. The latter frame of mind is closely akin to terror. Attention 
 is shown by the eyebrows being slightly raised, and as this state in- 
 creases into surprise, they are raised to a much greater extent, with the 
 eyes widely opened. Mr. Darwin also says that the mouth is widely 
 open. It is so usually, I admit, but I do not think invariably. I have 
 noticed it always with the lower classes, but I do not think it is so com- 
 monly seen among the more highly-cultured classes of society, or in 
 those who have been trained to carry on respiration properly, i.e., by 
 the nostrils. But the eyes are more or less widely open and the eye- 
 brows elevated in all cases where surprise and wonder are really felt. 
 Mr. Darwin says a person may often be seen to pretend surprise by 
 merely raising his eyebrows. All authorities seem to agree that the 
 most common gesture of surprise and wonder is to raise the opened 
 hands either to the level of the face, or, in more extreme cases, high 
 above the head. The utterances of surprise, wonder, and amazement 
 are almost always delivered in rising inflections of considerable extent, 
 pitched in high keys ; unless awe is mingled with wonder when the 
 rising inflections are subdued, and keys more or less low prevail. Admi- 
 ration is a mixed feeling usually consisting of some degree of wonder, 
 which produces also a sense of pleasure, with approval or esteem, 
 
 * Sir C. Bell's "Anatomy of Expression," pp. 137-9. + Darwin, p. 230.
 
 Lect. XVII.] OM ELOCUTION. 299 
 
 When great admiration is excited, the eyebrows are raised, the eyes 
 widely open, bright, and sparkling, the lips smiling, and the hands not 
 very unfrequently raised up with the palms expanded. Its expression 
 by the voice is always in extreme rising inflections, pitched in high keys. 
 Appeal or persuasion usually has the forehead smooth and unruffled, 
 the eyes opened wide, with an eager, discerning look, the lips inclined 
 to a smile, and the voice takes a considerable range in rising inflec- 
 tions pitched in moderately high keys. 
 
 In the manifestation of hope, we lind in general, more or less, accord- 
 ing to degree, of the following characteristics : — ■ 
 
 The whole countenance has a bright expanded look, the eyebrows are 
 arched, the eyes sparkling, and the lips inclined to a smile. In its 
 expression by language we find the voice taking a considerable range in 
 the use of rising inflections, pitched in keys more or less high, and the 
 delivery is almost always quick in point of time. "Desire," says Dr. 
 Burgh, " differs from hope, as regards expression, chiefly in this particular, 
 that there is more appearance of doubt and anxiety in the former than 
 in the latter ; for it is one thing to desire what is agreeable, and another 
 to have a prospect of its being obtained." 
 
 In tranquiUity, the countenance is calm, open, and composed, the 
 forehead smooth, the eyebrows slightly arched, and the eyes mild and 
 placid in expression. The mouth is gently closed, and there is a general 
 repose of the body and limbs. The language that is uttered in this 
 frame of mind is expressed in moderate ranges of inflection, and in a 
 voice that is almost always limited to the middle keys and moderate 
 time. 
 
 Before passing on to the consideration of the sterner and more pain- 
 ful passions and emotions, I just say a word in regard to the external 
 signs which either act as substitutes for or accompany expressions of 
 acquiescence or negation. The nod of the head to signify acquies- 
 cence or approval, and the shake of the head to signify refusal, negation, 
 or disapproval, seem not only to be expressive signs of our feelings, but 
 to be almost general throughout all the races of mankind, civilised and 
 uncivilised, though there are exceptions of which Mr. Darwin gives 
 some curious instances. These two signs would seem, however, to be 
 instinctive or innate among the Anglo-Saxon race and their descendants, 
 for in the well-known case of Laura Bridgman, who was born blind and 
 deaf, it is said that she constantly accompanied her_>w with the common 
 affirmative nod, and her 7io with our negative shake of the head.* 
 
 Another sign of negation, though one more frequently seen abroad 
 than at home, is to raise the finger or whole hand and shake it from side 
 to side. 
 
 Raillery and irony may be said to range in their degrees from playful 
 innocent badinage to a spirit of bitter mockery and contempt. In the 
 former, the countenance has much of the general aspect of cheerfulness, 
 the inflections abound in delicate rising circumflexes, pitched in mode- 
 rately high keys, combined with the light poise of the voice. When, 
 
 * " On the Vocal Sounds of Laura Bridgman," Smithsonian Contribution?:, 1851, 
 vol. ii p. II.
 
 300 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. 
 
 however, the feeling becomes more or less mingled with contempt and 
 passes into irony and satire, the eye glances laterally at the object which 
 excites the emotion, the mouth has what is called a satirical smile, and 
 the circumflex inflections become much more prolonged in range and 
 varied in key. 
 
 Anxiety, dejection, and grief may pass by almost insensible grada- 
 tions into each other, and partake correspondingly of the same general 
 characteristics. There is a relaxation of the whole tone of the system. 
 The eyebrows assume a peculiar, oblique shape from the outer corners 
 of the eyes upwards, while at the same time, instead of a smooth, 
 they present a roughened appearance, in consequence of the hairs 
 being made to project. Mr. Darwin says that the eyebrows assume 
 this position, owing to the contraction of certain muscles (namely, the 
 orbiculars, corrugators, and pyramidals of the nose, which together tend 
 to lower and contract the eyebrows) being partially checked by the more 
 powerful action of the central fascice of the frontal muscle. These 
 latter fasciae by their contraction raise the inner ends alone of the eye- 
 brows, and as the corrugators at the same time show the eyebrows 
 together, their inner ends become puckered into a fold or lump. This 
 fold is a highly characteristic point in the appearance of the eyebrows 
 w'hen rendered oblique. Dr. J. Crichton Browne has also often noticed 
 in melancholic patients, who keep their eyebrows persistently oblique, a 
 peculiar arching of the upper eyelid. This pecuHar arching of the eye- 
 lids depends, Mr. Darwin believes, on the inner end of the eyebrows 
 being raised, for when the whole eyebrow is elevated and arched, the 
 upper eyelid follows in a slight degree the same movement. But the 
 most conspicuous result of the opposed contraction of the above-named 
 muscles, is exhibited by the peculiar furrows formed on the forehead. 
 These muscles, when thus in conjoint, yet opposed action, may be 
 called, for the sake of brevity, the grief-muscles. When a person 
 elevates his eyebrows by the contraction of the whole frontal muscle, 
 transverse wrinkles extend across the whole breadth of the foreliead ; 
 but in the present case, the middle fascicc alone are contracted, con- 
 sequently transverse furrows are formed across the middle part alone of 
 the forehead. The skin over the exterior parts of both eyebrows is at 
 the same time drawn downwards and smoothed by the contraction of 
 the outer portion of the orbicular muscles. The e3'ebrows are likewise 
 brought together through the simultaneous contraction of the corru- 
 gators ; and this latter action generates vertical furrows, separating the 
 exterior and lowered parts of the skin of the forehead from the central 
 and raised part. The union of these vertical furrows with the central 
 and transverse furrows, produces a mark which has been compared to a 
 horse-shoe ; but the furrows more strictly form three sides of a quad- 
 rangle. They are often conspicuous on the forehead of adult or nearly 
 adult persons when their eyebrows are made oblique ; but with young 
 children, owing to their skins not easily wrinkling, they are rarely seen, 
 or mere traces of them only can be detected. Mr. Darwin further 
 states that few persons, without some practice, can voluntarily act on 
 their grief muscles, but after considerable trials a certain number sue-
 
 Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 3or 
 
 ceed, while others never can. The degree of obliquity in the eyebrows, 
 whether assumed, voluntary, or quite unconsciously, differs much in 
 different persons. With some who apparently have strong pyramidal 
 muscles, the contraction of the central fascice of the frontal muscle, 
 although it may be energetic, as shown by the quadrangular furrows on 
 the forehead, does not raise the inner ends of the eyebrows, but only 
 prevents them being so lowered as they otherwise would have been. 
 Mr. Darwin adds that, as far as he has been able to observe, the grief 
 muscles are brought into action much more frequently by women and 
 children than by men. They are rarely acted on, at least with grown-up 
 persons, from mere bodily pain, but almost exclusively from mental 
 distress. The power to bring the grief muscles freely into play appears 
 to be hereditary, like almost every other human faculty. A lady belong- 
 ing to a family famous for having produced an extraordinary number of: 
 great actors and actresses, and who can herself give this expression with 
 singular precision, told Dr. Crichton Browne that all her family had 
 possessed the power in a remarkable degree.* These muscles may be 
 observed strikingly in action in all great tragedians, and their full 
 development is specially noticeable in the portraits of Mrs. Siddons and 
 all the Kemble family representing their impersonations of most of their 
 tragic characters. 
 
 Another very marked characteristic in dejection, grief, and all melan- 
 choly emotions, is the drawing down of the corners of the mouth, which 
 is effected by those muscles called \.\\q. depresso7-es anguli oris. (See dia- 
 gram.) When the lips are closed and this muscle is called into action, 
 the line of the junction of the two lips forms a curved line with the con- 
 cavity downwards, and the lips themselves are generally somewhat pro- 
 truded, especially the lower one.f These expressions of grief, dejec- 
 tion, and low spirits generally, appear to be universal among all races 
 of mankind. 
 
 Violent and sudden grief is seen frequently to manifest itself by beat- 
 ing the head with the hands, grovelling on the ground, stamping the feet, 
 lifting the eyes from time to time to heaven, violent weeping and scream- 
 ing, hurrying to and fro, running about distracted, and fainting away. 
 We read, too, in the Old Testament and other ancient records, of rend- 
 ing the garments, tearing the hair, beard, and even flesh as signs of 
 violent grief, distress, and lamentations, and they prevail to the present 
 day among Oriental nations and uncivilised races. 
 
 When grief and distress find utterance in words, extreme rising inflec- 
 tions prevail, pitched in keys more or less high in proportion to the 
 intensity of the emotions ; but mere melancholy, or dejection, usually 
 expresses itself in subdued inflections, low keys, and the delivery is 
 slow in point of time. The other physical signs of dejection are, that 
 the circulation of the blood being slow, the face is pale, the eyelids 
 droop, the muscles become flaccid, and the head hangs down on the chest. 
 Respiration, too, is slow and feeble, and it is often interrupted by deep 
 
 * Darwin's "Expressions of the Emotions," cliap. vii. 
 
 t Duchenne: "Mecanisme de la Fhysionomie Humaine," vol. viii. p. 34; Darwin, 
 P- ^91-
 
 302 AYXG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. 
 
 sighs. It is said by Dr. Burgh that the culmination of all misery, 
 despair, such as is sometimes seen in criminals condemned t'o death, or 
 in those insane patients who believe themselves doomed to perdition, 
 is shown in the eyebrows being strongly contracted and bent down, the 
 forehead furrowed with deep lines, the eyes frequently roll frightfully, 
 the mouth is strongly curved downwards, the lips are often bitten, and 
 the nostrils widely distended. Tears do not often flow, but the eyes 
 glare, and the white part surrounding the eyeball is red and inflamed 
 like those of an animal in a rabid condition. The head sinks down 
 upon the breast, the arms are bent at the elbows, the hands clenched 
 tightly, and the whole body strained and often violently agitated. The 
 skin is livid, and all the veins and muscles swollen. Groans, expressive 
 of inward torture, are more frequently uttered than words. As this 
 state of mind so often leads to madness and suicide, it can hardh', in 
 Dr. Burgh's opinion, be ever acted by those who have to represent it 
 dramatically. 
 
 Fear is of all emotions the most depressing, Mr. Darwin states, and 
 it soon induces utter helpless prostration, as if in consequence of, or in 
 association with, the most violent and prolonged efforts to escape from 
 the danger, though no such attempts have been actually made, neverthe- 
 less even extreme fear often acts at first as a powerful stimulant. A 
 man or an animal, driven through terror to desperation, is endowed 
 with wonderful strength, and is notoriously dangerous in the highest 
 degree. What j\Ir. Darwin says in reference to fear and terror and 
 their effects upon man is so interesting, and so strictly true to nature, 
 that I am sure the whole passage is well worthy of being given /« extenso. 
 
 " The word ' fear ' seems to be derived from what is sudden and 
 dangerous, and that of ' terror ' from the trembling of the vocal organs 
 and body. I use the word ' terror ' for extreme fear ; but some writers 
 think it ought to be confined to cases in which the imagination is more 
 particularly concerned. Fear is often preceded by astonishment, and 
 is so far akin to it, that both lead to the senses of sight and hearing 
 being instantly aroused. In both cases the eyes and mouth are widely 
 opened, and the eyebrows raised. The frightened man at first stand:? 
 like a statue, motionless and breathless, or crouches down, as if instinc- 
 tively, to escape observation. 
 
 " The heart beats quickly and violently, so that it palpitates or knocks 
 against the ribs ; but it is very doubtful whether it then works more 
 efficiently than usual, so as to send a greater supply of blood to all parts 
 of the body ; for the skin instantly becomes pale, as during incipient 
 faintness. This paleness of the surface, however, is probably in large 
 part, or exclusively, due to the vaso-motor being affected in such a 
 manner as to cause the contraction of the small arteries of the skin. 
 That the skin is affected considerably under the sense of great fear, we 
 see in the marvellous and inexplicable manner in which perspiration 
 immediately exudes from it. This exudation is the more remarkable, 
 as the surface is then cold, and hence the term, a cold sweat ; whereas, 
 the sudorific glands are properly excited into action when the surface is 
 heated. The hairs also on the skin stand erect, and the superficial
 
 1,ECT. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 303 
 
 muscles shiver. In connection with the disturbed action of the heart, 
 the breathing is hurried. The salivary glands act imperfectly, the 
 mouth becomes dry, and is often opened and shut. I have also noticed 
 that under slight fear there is a strong tendency to yawn. One of the 
 best-marked symptoms is the trembling of all the muscles of the body, 
 and this is often first seen in the lips. From this cause, and from the 
 dryness of the mouth, the voice often becomes husky or indistinct, 
 or may altogether fail. ' Obstupui, steteruntque comre, et vox faucibus 
 hKsit.' Of vague fear there is a well-known and grand description 
 in Job. ' In thoughts from the visions of the night when deep sleep 
 falleth upon men, fear came upon me and trembling, which made all my 
 bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my 
 tlesh stood up. It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof : 
 an image was before my eyes ; there was silence, and I heard a voice, 
 saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God ? Shall a man be 
 more pure than his Maker?' (Job i. 4-13). 
 
 "As fear increases into an. agony of terror, we behold, as under all 
 violent emotions, diversified results. The heart beats wildly, or may 
 fail to act and faintness ensue ; there is a. deathlike pallor ; the wings 
 of the nostrils are widely dilated ; ' there is a gasping and convulsive 
 motion of the lips, a tremor on. the hollow cheek, a gulping and catching 
 of the throat ; ' * the uncovered and protruding eyeballs are fixed on 
 the object of terror, or they may roll restlessly from side to side, hue 
 iliuc volvens oculos totumqite pererrat. The pupils are said to be enor- 
 mously dilated. All the muscles of the body may become rigid, or may 
 be thrown into convulsive movements. The hands are alternately 
 clenched and opened, •often with a twitching movement The arms may 
 be protruded, as if to avert some dreadful danger, or may be thrown 
 wildly over the head. ... As fear rises to an extreme pitch, the 
 dreadful scream of terror is heard. Great beads of sweat stand on 
 the skin. All the muscles of the body are relaxed. Utter prostration 
 soon follows, and the mental powers fail" t 
 
 Dr. Burgh, writing a hundred years previously, enumerates many of 
 the signs of fear and terror which are mentioned by Mr. Darwin. It 
 remains only to state that when these emotions find vent in language, 
 the voice is weak and trembling, and the sentences often broken and 
 disjointed. Horror may be said, I think, to be the culmination of fear 
 and terror. Horror, says Sir C. Bell, is full of energy ; the body is on 
 the utmost tension, not unnerved as it is in mere fear. In the expres- 
 sion of horror by the countenance, the forehead is deeply furrowed by 
 the strong tension of the muscles which draw the eyebrows from the 
 outer ends upwards ; the eyes themselves are wildly protruded, and the 
 mouth is opened. A cold perspiration bedews the body, convulsive 
 shudders agitate the frame, and there is often, in extreme cases, an 
 involuntary bristling up of the hairs of the head. Shakespeare has 
 well described these indications of horror, when he makes the ghost 
 in Hamlet exclaim : — 
 
 * Sir C, Bell, " Anatomy of Expies.sion," pp. 88, 164-169. 
 + Darwin: " Expression of the Emotions," pp. 289-292.
 
 304 A'LVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. 
 
 " I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
 Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, 
 Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, 
 Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 
 And each particular hair to stand on end, 
 Like quills upon the fretful porcupine." 
 
 In horror, as, in somewhat less degrees, in fear and terror, there is also 
 a strong contraction of that muscle which is spread over the sides of 
 the neck, and extends downwards a little way beneath the collar-bones, 
 and upwards to the lower part of the cheeks ; and a portion termed the 
 risoriiis may be seen in the diagram (2, letter M). This great muscle is 
 called ih.e piatysnui myoides, and when it contracts, it draws the corners 
 of the mouth and the lower parts of the cheeks downwards and back- 
 wards. The result of this action is to produce on the sides of the neck, 
 in young persons, prominent, longitudinal ridges, and in old, emaciated 
 people, tine transverse wrinkles. Duchenne emphatically calls this great 
 muscle the viuscle of fright.''' The gestures of horror vary in different 
 individuals. Sometimes, according to Dr. Burgh, the arms have the 
 elbows tightly pressed against the sides, the open hands are lifted up to 
 the height of the breast, so that the palms face the dreadful object that 
 excite the horror, as shields opposed against it. One foot is often seen 
 to be drawn back behind the other, so that the body seems to be shrink- 
 ing from the object of horror. The heart beats violently, and respira- 
 tion is quick and short. ISIr. Darwin, too, remarks that, "judging from 
 pictures, the whole body is often turned away or shrinks, or the -arms 
 are violently protruded, as if to push away some dreadful object. The 
 most frequent gesture, as far as can be inferred from the acting of 
 persons who endeavour to express a vividly imagined scene of horror, 
 is the raising of both shoulders, with the bent arms pressed closely 
 against the sides or chest. These movements are nearly the same with 
 those commonly made when we feel very cold ; and they are generally 
 accompanied by a shudder, as well as by a deep expiration or inspira- 
 tion, according as the chest happens at the time to be expanded or 
 contracted. The sounds thus made are expressed by interjections 
 iike'z^/;' or 'ugh.' It is not, however, obvious why, when we feel 
 cold, or express a sense of horror, we press our bent arms against 
 our bodies, raise our shoulders and shudder." t 
 
 In regard to meditation, abstraction, reverie, &c., our remarks need 
 not be at any great length. In this condition, the head may often be 
 observed to droop forward in consequence of the general relaxation of 
 the muscles, and the eyes have a peculiarly vacant expression, and are 
 often, moreover, slightly divergent ; and when meditation passes into 
 perplexed reflection, as when doubts and difficulties arise in the mind, 
 the change is frequently shown at once by the corrugator muscles con- 
 tracting and consequently lowering the eyebrows and bringing them 
 close together, thereby causing vertical furrows on the forehead, or 
 
 * Duchenne : "Mecanisme de la Pliysionomie Humaine," Album. Legende XI. 
 t Darwin's " Exinession of the Emotions," p. 307,
 
 Lect. XVII.] ON ELOCUTION. 305 
 
 in a word, a frown ; and also by peculiar actions, such as raising the 
 hand to the forehead, or rubbing it, or by raising the hand to the 
 mouth, cheek, or chin. Plautus, in one of his plays (" Miles Gloriosus," 
 act ii. sc. 2), notices this as a sign of perplexed meditation, when he 
 says, "Now look, he has pillowed his chin upon his hand." We can 
 understand, Mr. Darwin says, why the forehead should be pressed or 
 rubbed when deep thought tries the brain, but why the hand should 
 be raised to the mouth or face is far from clear. When this state of 
 mind finds utterance in language, the voice is in general characterised 
 by low keys, subdued inflections, heavy poise, and slow time. 
 
 Vexation and ill-temper may sometimes arise out of perplexed 
 meditation, and then, in addition to the frown, we find the corners of 
 the mouth drawn downwards. If the frown is intensified by the strong 
 contraction of the pyramidal muscles of the nose, thereby causing 
 deeply marked lines across the base of the nose, an expression of 
 obstinate, sullen moroseness is induced. A protrusion more or less 
 of the lips gives what is termed an appearance of sulkiness to the 
 countenance. 
 
 Nothing gives so much the expression of determination and a strong 
 will as a firmly closed mouth. I have never yet met with man or 
 woman, of energetic character, who failed to show this external indi- 
 cation. The habitually open mouth is, I believe, one of the surest signs 
 of a weak and vacillating disposition. I have also noticed it as one 
 of the frequent characteristics of persons who stammer or stutter. 
 Mr. Darwin accounts, I think, most truly and reasonably for the firmly 
 closed mouth being the sign of the firm and resolute character, when 
 he says : " A prolonged effort of any kind, whether of mind or body, 
 implies previous determination ; and if it can be shown that the mouth 
 is generally closed with firmness before and during a great and con- 
 tinued exertion of the muscular system, then, through the principle of 
 association, the mouth would almost certainly be closed as soon as any 
 determined resolution was taken. Now several observers have noticed 
 that a man, in commencing any violent muscular effort, invariably first 
 distends his lungs with air, and then compresses it by the strong 
 contraction of the muscles of the chest, and to effect this, the mouth 
 must be firmly closed. , , . Dr, Piderit accounts for the firm closure of 
 the mouth tiuriilg strong muscular exertion on the principle that the 
 influence of the will spreads to other muscles besides those necessarily 
 brought into action in making any particular exertion ; and it is natural 
 that the muscles of respiration and of the mouth, from being so 
 habitually used, should be especially liable to be thus acted on," * 
 
 It appears to me that there is probably some truth in this view, for 
 we are apt to press the teeth hard together during violent exertion, and 
 this is not requisite to prevent expiration, whilst the muscles of the 
 chest are strongly contracted. 
 
 Lastly, when a man has to perform some delicate and difficult opera- 
 tion, not requiring the exertion of any strength, he nevertheless 
 generally closes his mouth, and ceases for a time to breathe ; but he 
 
 * "Mimik und Physionomik," s. 79. 
 
 U
 
 3o6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII. 
 
 acts thus that the movements of his chest may not disturb those of his 
 arms. . . . To perform an action, however trifling, if difficult, implies 
 some amount of previous determination. 
 
 There appears nothing improbable in all the above assigned causes 
 having come into play in different degrees, either conjointly or separately, 
 on various occasions. The result would be a well-established habit, 
 now, perhaps, inherited, of firmly closing the mouth at the commence- 
 ment and during any violent and prolonged exertion, or any delicate 
 operation. Through the principle of association there would also be a 
 strong tendency towards this same habit as soon as the mind had 
 resolved on any particular action or line of conduct, even before there 
 was any bodily exertion, or if none were requisite. The habitual and 
 firm closure of the mouth would thus come to show decision of char- 
 acter, and decision readily passes into obstinacy.* 
 
 When determination expresses itself in language, the voice is 
 characterised by emphatic falling inflections, generally pitched in 
 low keys. 
 
 Shame is peculiarly characterised by blushing, which seems to be 
 specially a human manifestation of emotion. It is owing to the relaxa- 
 tion of the muscular coats of the small arteries. When this takes 
 place, the capillaries become suffused with blood ; but this results from 
 the proper vaso-motor centres being affected by an emotion of the 
 mind. All races of mankind exhibit the phenomenon of blushing, 
 though of course the darker the race the less is it perceptible. Mr. 
 Darwin remarks that, under a keen sense of shame, there is a strong 
 desire for concealment. We turn away the whole body, more especially 
 the face, which we endeavour in some manner to hide. An ashamed 
 person can hardly endure to meet the gaze of those present, so that 
 he almost invariably casts down his eyes or looks askant. As there 
 generally exists at the same time a strong wish to avoid the appearance 
 of shame, a vain attempt is made to look direct at the person who 
 causes this feeling ; and the antagonism between these opposite ten- 
 dencies leads to various restless movements in the eyes. An intense 
 blush is sometimes also accompanied by a slight effusion of tears, 
 and this, Mr. Darwin says, he presumes is due to the lachrymal glands 
 partaking of the increased supply of blood, which he knows rushes 
 into the capillaries of the adjoining parts, including the retina. He 
 further remarks that many writers, ancient and modern, have noticed 
 the foregoing movements. Ezra cries out (ix. 6), " O my God ! 
 I am ashamed, and blush to lift my head to Thee, my God ! " In 
 Isaiah (i. 6), we read, "I hid not my face from shame." Seneca 
 remarks in his eleventh epistle that the Roman actors hang down 
 their heads, fix their eyes on the ground, and keep them lowered, but 
 are unable to blush in acting shame. According to Macrobius, who 
 lived in the fifth century (Saturnalia, B. vii. c. xi.), " Natural 
 philosophers assert that nature, being moved by shame, spreads the 
 blood before herself, as a veil, as we see any one blushing often 
 
 * Darwin's " Expression of the Emotions," pp. 236-238.
 
 Lect. XVII.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 307 
 
 puts Jiis hands before his face." Shakespeare, in Titus Andronicus 
 (act ii. sc. 5), makes Marcus say to his niece, "Ah ! now thou turn'st 
 away thy face for shame."* Shame shyness, and extreme modesty, 
 all in different degrees manifest themselves by blushing. When these 
 feelings are shown in language, the voice is in general weak and 
 faltering. 
 
 * Darwin's "Expression of the Emotions," pp. 322, 323.
 
 LECTURE XVIII. 
 
 The Subject of the Expression of the Emotions continued — Guilt — Remorse — Craft 
 — Slyness — Pride — Courage — Helplessness — Obstinacy — Resignation — Indignation 
 — Anger — Hatred — Rage — Jealousy — Contempt — Disdain — Scorn — Disgust — Con- 
 clusion of the Analysis of the Human Emotions. 
 
 UILT in many respects presents the same external signs as 
 shame. There is the same tendency to blushing, the same 
 restless, shifting movements of the eyes, which, however, 
 exhibit, it is said, a special reluctance to look upon the per- 
 son wronged. Many of the marks which characterise fear 
 are also to be noticed in guilt in many instances. Mr. Darwin mentions 
 in the case of one of his own children it was shown at a very early age 
 by an unnatural brightness in the eyes, and by an odd, affected manner, 
 impossible to describe. 
 
 Remorse, which seems to be a complex emotion, consisting of guilt, 
 shame, anxiety, and sorrow, exhibits the several characteristics of feel- 
 ings. Dr. Burgh says that remorse casts down the countenance and 
 clouds it with anxiety, draws down the eyebrows, and the eyes are often 
 bent upon the ground. The lips are firmly pressed together, and in 
 extreme cases the teeth are gnashed. The muscular tension is often 
 extreme, and the whole body is strained and violently agitated. If 
 this strong remorse is succeeded by the more gracious disposition of 
 penitence or contrition, then the eyes are often raised to heaven, but 
 with a great appearance of doubt, anxiety, and fear, and as often cast 
 down again to the earth. Tears frequently flow. The knees are bent, or 
 the whole person is prostrated on the ground. The arms are extended, 
 and the hands clasped in supplication. The voice of deprecation is 
 interrupted by frequent sighs ; comparatively high keys and rising 
 inflections prevail, and the tones are weak and tremulous. 
 
 Craft and slyness are manifested by dispositions that betray themselves 
 more by the eyes and their peculiar movements, than by any other feature 
 in the countenance. Mr. Herbert Spencer in his " Elements of Psy- 
 chology" (2d edit, p. 552) says, "When there is a desire to see some- 
 thing on one side of the visual field without being supposed to see it. 
 the tendency is to check the conspicuous movement of the head, and 
 to make the requisite adjustment entirely with the eyes, which are there- 
 fore drawn very much to one side. Hence, when the eyes are turned to 
 one side, while the face is not turned on the same side, we get the natural 
 language of what is termed slyness."
 
 Lect. XVIII.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 309 
 
 Pride assumes a lofty look, bordering upon the aspect of firmness and 
 determmation. Dr. Burgh states it is characterised by the eyes being 
 open, but with the eyebrows considerably contracted and drawn down. 
 The mouth is firmly closed, and the lower lip in general slightly pro- 
 truded. Mr. Darwin says, of all the complex emotions, pride, perhaps, 
 is the most plainly expressed. A proud man exhibits his sense of 
 superiority over others by holding his head and body erect. He is 
 haughty (Jiaui) or high, and makes himself appear as large as possible ; 
 so that, metaphorically, he is said to be swollen or puffed up with pride. 
 The arrogant man looks down on others, and with lowered eyelids hardly 
 condescends to see them ; or he may show his contempt by slight move- 
 ments about the nostrils or lips ; hence the muscle which everts the 
 lower lip has been called the inuscidus sttperlms. The whole expression 
 of pride stands in direct antithesis to that of humility, so that nothing 
 need here be said of the latter state of mind.* 
 
 Courage gives a free, open air to the whole countenance. The eyes 
 are bright and sparkling, the lips firmly pressed together, the chest ex- 
 panded, and the whole figure erect and free in movement. The voice 
 is firm, full, and often characterised by the hght, bounding poise. 
 
 Helplessness, or the inability to do as desired, is often shown by 
 an action that appears to be common throughout the world, namely, 
 shrugging the shoulders. Mr. Darwin says that this gesture implies an 
 unintentional or unavoidable action on our own part, or one that we 
 cannot perform ; or an action performed by another person that we 
 cannot prevent. It accompanies such speeches as " It was not my 
 fault;" "It is impossible for me to grant this favour;" "He must 
 follow his own course, I cannot stop him." Shrugging the shoulders 
 likewise expresses patience, or the absence of any intention to resist, 
 hence the muscles which raise the shoulders are sometimes called, as 
 I have been informed by an artist, "the patience muscles." Shylock 
 the Jew says — 
 
 " Signor Antonio, many a time and oft 
 In the Rialto you have rated me 
 About my monies and my usances : 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug." 
 
 In this action, while the shoulders are raised, the arms are usually 
 bent at the elbows, showing the palms of the hands with extended 
 fingers ; the head is thrown a little on one side, the eyebrows are raised, 
 and at the moment of the action the mouth is commonly open. 
 
 Obstinacy, or a dogged resolve not to do a thing, is shown by the 
 shrug of the shoulders being higher and more decided, and mouth 
 compressed. 
 
 Resignation, or submission, appears to be often manifested by the 
 open hands being placed one over the other on the lower part of the 
 body, and the countenance is mild and placid in expression. 
 
 I come now to the consideration of those passions which may be 
 called the strongest and most painful in their character, alike as regards 
 * Darwin's "Expression of the Emotions," p. 263, 264,
 
 3IO KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVII I. 
 
 their subjects and objects. I take first under this head indignation, 
 anger, hatred, and rage ; for these emotions of the mind differ from 
 each other only in degree, and it cannot be said that there are any 
 precise boundaries that separate the one from the other. These passions 
 appear to be manifested in nearly the same manner among all races of 
 mankind. From the stimulus which indignation and anger give to the 
 general system, the action of the heart is increased, and in consequence 
 of the more rapid circulation of the blood, the eyes become bright and 
 the cheeks flush. The corrugator muscles are called powerfully into 
 action, and a strongly-marked frown is produced, while at the same 
 time the corners of the mouth are drawn down and the lips are closely 
 compressed ; respiration being also quickened, and all the muscles 
 that contribute to this function acting in conjunction, the alee or wings 
 of the nostrils are somewhat spread out to allow of a freer ingress 
 of air. 
 
 Shakespeare admirably describes all these signs in Henry the Fifth's 
 address to his soldiers before the siege of Harfleur — 
 
 " Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 
 Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man 
 As modest stillness and humility : 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. 
 Disguise fair Nature with hard-favoured rage ; 
 Then, lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
 Let it pry through the portage of the head, * 
 Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm ir, 
 As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
 O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
 Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean — 
 Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide ; 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full height ! Now on ! you noblest English, 
 Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof; 
 Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
 And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument ! 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot ; 
 Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge, 
 Cry, Heaven for Harry ! England ! and St. George ! " 
 
 Henry V., act iii. sc. i. 
 
 In certain cases the action of the heart is so much impeded in 
 extreme rage, that the countenance, instead of flushing, becomes deadly 
 pale, or livid, or sometimes almost purple. Mr. Darwin says that, in 
 general, energy is given to the will and strength to the muscles Dy the 
 excited condition of the brain under the influence of anger and rage.
 
 Lect. XVIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 311 
 
 "The body is held .erect commonly, as if ready for instant action ; but 
 sometimes it is bent forward towards the offending person with the limbs 
 more or less rigid. The mouth is generally closed with firmness, show- 
 ing fixed determination, and the teeth are clenched or ground together. 
 Such gestures as the raising of the arms with the fists clenched as if to 
 strike the offender are common. Few men, in a great passion and telling 
 some one to begone, can resist acting as if they intended to strike or 
 push the man violently away. The desire, indeed, to strike often 
 becomes so intolerably strong, that inanimate objects are struck or 
 dashed to the ground, but the gestures frequently become altogether 
 purposeless, or frantic. . . . However, the muscular system is some- 
 times affected in a different way altogether, for trembling is a frequent 
 consequence of extreme rage. The paralysed lips then refuse to obey 
 the will, and the voice ' sticks in the throat,' * or it is rendered loud, 
 harsh, or discordant. There is in most cases a strongly marked frown 
 on the forehead, for this follows from the sense of anything displeasing 
 or difficult, together with concentration of mind. But sometimes the 
 brow, instead of being much contracted or lowered, remains smooth, 
 with the glaring eyes kept widely open. The eyes are always bright, or 
 may, as Homer expresses it, 'glisten with fire.' They are sometimes 
 bloodshot, and are said to protrude from their sockets, the result, no 
 doubt, of the head being gorged with blood, as shown by the veins being 
 distended."! When anger expresses itself in language, it is in very 
 varied keys, but always in the most emphatic falling inflections and the 
 heaviest poise of the voice. 
 
 Jealousy is of all the mixed emotions perhaps the most complex in 
 character. Dr. Burgh sa>;s it is compounded of love, hatred, hope, 
 fear, shame, anxiety, suspicion, grief, pity, envy, pride, rage, cruelty, 
 vengeance, and madness. Therefore, to portray jealousy well, as 
 represented in such a character as Othello, requires that the actor should 
 know how to represent truly all these passions by turns, and several of 
 them together. The following is the description of the manifestations 
 of this emotion given by D. Burgh: — 
 
 "Jealousy shows itself by restlessness, peevishness, anxiety, and 
 thoughtfulness. Sometimes it bursts out in piteous complaint and 
 tears, then a gleam of hope that all is yet well lights up the countenance 
 with a momentary smile. The next moment, perhaps, the face clouds 
 over with a general gloom, showing the mind again overcast with horrid 
 suspicions and frightful imaginations. Then, perhaps, the arms are 
 tightly folded or. the breast, or the hands may be violently clenched, 
 while the rolling, bloodshot eyes dart lightning glances of rage and fury. 
 The jealous man, tortured with all these conflicting passions, hurries to 
 and fro, and has no more rest than a ship has, tempest-tossed in 
 a troubled sea, the sport of winds and waves. Again, after awhile, 
 his passion is for a time subdued, and he dwells in his imagination on 
 the memories of past happiness, and calls up the image of his beloved. 
 
 * In Sir C. Bell's " Anatomy of Expression," p. 95, there are some e.^celienc 
 remarks on the expression of rage. 
 
 t Darwin's "Expression of the Emotions," pp. 241, 242.
 
 312 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XVIII. 
 
 Then his monster-breeding fancy represents her as false as she is fair ; 
 he cries out as one upon the rack, when the cruel engine rends every 
 joint and every sinew snaps. Anon he casts himself upon the ground, 
 then springs up, and with the look and action of a demon bursting 
 from the abyss of hell, he snatches the instrument of death, and after 
 stabbing the woman so loved, suspected, hated, and lamented, plunges 
 the dagger in his own heart, exhibiting a terrible proof of what a man 
 may become by the indulgence of an infernal passion."* 
 
 Dr, Burgh has evidently drawn this picture of a man tortured by 
 excess of jealousy from the leading incidents in the character of Othello. 
 It is almost needless to observe that the voice exhibits all the various 
 characteristics of the different conflicting emotions through which the 
 jealous man passes as he gives utterance to his feelings. 
 
 Contempt, disdain, scorn, and disgust seem to me to be emotions so 
 closely allied that they pass by almost imperceptible degrees into each 
 other. Quiet, calm contempt is usually conveyed by a slight smile and 
 elevation of the upper lip, whilst at the same time the nose is somewhat 
 raised up, and the alee of the nostrils contracted. Duchenne and 
 Gratiolet both speak of the partial closing of the eyelids, or the turning 
 away of the eyes, or the whole person, as being signs that are highly 
 characteristic of disdain. f " These actions seem to imply." says Mr. 
 Darwin, " that the despised person is not worth looking at, or is dis- 
 agreeable to behold." The elevation of the upper lip at one corner and 
 the uncovering of the canine tooth by this action, while the face itself 
 is a little upturned and half-averted from the person who is the object 
 of scorn, is very strongly expressive of that feeling, and Mr. Darwin 
 devotes the latter portion of his tenth chapter to a consideration of the 
 subject and the origin of the action. The snapping of the fingers is 
 also a very frequent and well-known gesture of extreme contempt 
 and scorn. Mr. Tyler, in his " Early History of Mankind," % says, in 
 reference to this action, "It is not very intelligible as we generally see 
 it ; but when we notice that the same sign, made quite gently, as if 
 rolling some tiny object away with the thumbnail and forefinger are 
 usual and well understood deaf and dumb gestures, denoting anything 
 tiny, insignificant, or contemptible, it seems as though we had exag- 
 gerated and conventionalised a perfectly natural action, so as to lose 
 sight of its original meaning." There is a curious mention of this 
 gesture by Strabo. 
 
 Disgust, as far as my own observations have extended, is in general 
 shown by an exaggerated protrusion of the lips, accompanied by a draw- 
 ing down of the corners of the mouth, and the utterance of certain 
 peculiar, but well-known and strongly expressive, guttural sounds. A 
 shudder more or less in degree may often, in extreme disgust, be seen 
 to run through the whole frame, while a frown contracts the eyebrows 
 and wrinkles the forehead. The arms may be noticed to be closely 
 
 * Dr. Burgh's "Essay on the Passions and Humours," pp. 23, 26, publislied 1784. 
 t Duchenne: " Physionomie Ilumaine," Album. Legende VIjI. p. 35; Gratiolet: 
 ' I)e la Physionomie," 1S65, p. 52. 
 :J: Second edition, p. 45.
 
 Lect. XVIII.l ON ELOCUTION. 313 
 
 pressed against the sides, and the shoulders raised, where strong disgust 
 is felt. 
 
 I have now, I think, examined the principal passions and emotions 
 to which human nature is liable. There may be some few others that 
 might be named, but I believe they will be found to be gradations of 
 the foregoing, or else to resolve themselves into complex emotions, and 
 in justification of the time devoted to the full consideration I have given 
 to this subject, I cannot do better than quote the words of Dr. Burgh. 
 
 " If it be alleged that some of these passions and emotions are such 
 as hardly ever are likely to come into the way of the speaker at the bar, 
 in the pulpit, or in either House of Parliament, or, indeed, save on the 
 stage, in public hfe generally, it does not therefore follow that the labour 
 of studying and practising the proper ways of expressing them is useless. 
 On the contrary, every speaker will find his account in enlarging his 
 sphere of practice. A gentleman may not have occasion to fence or 
 dance every day ; but has occasion to go into society every day, and he 
 will enter a room with all the better grace for his having learnt to fence 
 and dance in the most elegant manner. The orator may not have occa- 
 sion actually to express anger, malice, hatred, jealousy, and some few 
 others of the more violent passions ; but he will, by practising his 
 organs of voice in the art of expressing them, acquire a masterly ease 
 and fluency in giving utterance to those he has actually occasion to 
 express." * 
 
 In closing this general review of the emotions of human nature, it 
 would be impossible for me to find a more eloquent peroration than that 
 afforded by Mr. Darwin's closing v;ords. 
 
 " The movements of expression in the face and body, whatever their 
 origin may have been, are in themselves of much importance to our 
 welfare. They serve as the first means of communication between the 
 mother and her infant ; she smiles approval, and thus encourages her 
 child in the right path, or frowns disapproval. We all readily perceive 
 sympathy in others by their expression ; our sufferings are thus mitigated 
 and our pleasures increased, and mutual good feeling is thus strengthened. 
 The movements of expression give vividness and energy to our spoken 
 words. They reveal the thoughts and intentions of others more truly 
 than do words, which may be falsified. Whatever amount of truth the 
 so-called science of physiognomy may contain, appears to depend, as 
 Haller long ago remarked,! on different persons bringing into frequent 
 use different facial muscles according to their dispositions, the develop- 
 ment of these muscles being perhaps thus increased, and the lines or 
 furrows on their face due to their habitual contraction being thus rendered 
 deeper and more conspicuous. The free expression by outward signs of 
 an emotion intensifies it. On the other hand, the repression, as far as 
 this is possible, of all outward signs softens our emotions.^ He who 
 gives way to violent gestures will increase his rage ; he who does not 
 
 * Dr. Burgh's "Essay on the Passions and Emotions," p. 27. 
 f Quoted by Moifeau in his edition of" Lavater," vol. iv. p. 21 1. 
 X Gratiolet, in his " De la Physionomie " 1865, p. 66, insists on the truth of this 
 conclusion.
 
 314 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XVIII. 
 
 control the signs of fear will experience fear in a greater degree ; and he 
 who remains passive when overwhelmed with grief, loses his best chance 
 of recovering elasticity of mind. These results follow partly from the 
 intimate relation which exists between almost all the emotions and their 
 outward manifestations, and partly from the direct influence of exertion 
 on the heart, and consequently on the brain. Even the simulation of an 
 emotion tends to rouse it in our minds. Shakespeare, who from his 
 wonderful knowledge of the human mind ought to be an excellent judge, 
 says, in the person of Hamlet : — 
 
 ' Is it not monstrous that this player here, 
 But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, 
 Could force his soul so to her own conceit, 
 That from her working all his visage warm'd. 
 Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, 
 A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
 With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing ! ' " 
 
 We have seen that expression in itself, or the language of the emotions, 
 as it has sometimes been called, is certainly of importance to the welfare 
 of mankind. To understand, as far as is possible, the source or origin 
 of the various expressions which may be hourly seen in the faces of the 
 men around us, not to mention our domestic animals, ought to possess 
 much interest for us. From those several causes, we may conclude that 
 the philosophy of our subject has well deserved the attention which it has 
 already received from several excellent observers, and that it deserves still 
 further attention, especially from any able physiologist. 
 
 Note. — The student may consult with the greatest advantage Mr. 
 Herbert Spencer's chapter on " The Language of the Emotions " in the 
 second volume of his "Principles of Psychology," p. 539.
 
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 LECTURE XIX. 
 
 Hindrances to Fluency of Speech — Dr. Abbotts — Stammering and Stuttering — 
 Definition of eacli of these Impediments — Various Causes of Stammering and 
 Stuttering — Other Varieties of Defective Articulation — i\Ieans by which all Impedi- 
 ments of Speech may be removed — Special Directions for the Self-cure of Stammer- 
 ing and Stuttering, and the Correction of all Imperfect and Defective Articulation. 
 
 PROPOSE in this Lecture treating exclusively of those hin- 
 drances to fluency in delivery which commonly are classified 
 under the names of stammering, stuttering, and impediments 
 of speech. Dr. Abbotts, in his work on "Stammering and 
 Stuttering,"* says that these painful affections, like many 
 others which depend in some degree upon the nervous system, have of 
 late years been greatly on the increase, especially in our large towns. He 
 considers these maladies to be essentially belonging to a state of civilisa- 
 tion, and asserts that in a condition of savage simplicity stammering and 
 stuttering are next to unknown, a fact which we have upon the authority 
 of many travellers in different parts of the world. He states that Mr. 
 George Catlin, whose name I have so frequently mentioned, informed 
 him, in answer to his inquiries, that, during the whole of his travels in 
 North and South America, he never met and never heard of any one 
 who stammered, although two millions of savages came under his obser- 
 vation. Dr. Livingstone stated that he saw no native who stammered 
 during the long period he spent in Central Africa, and Commander 
 Cameron, R.N., whose African experience is of course very consider- 
 able, fully confirms Dr. Livingstone's observations. Dr. Abbotts Smith 
 thinks that, from such data as he has to go by, he should be disposed to 
 set down the proportion of persons suffering under impediments of speech 
 as about one in looo of the whole population of England. Some 
 writers put the estimate much higher, at two and even three per looo 
 of the population. In some localities these high rates might, however, 
 prevail, particularly if all cases of slight impediments were taken into 
 consideration. A singular circumstance which has been remarked with 
 respect to the frequency of stammering is, that it is much more common 
 in some neighbourhoods than in others. The reason of this is not 
 apparent, but the fact still remains incontrovertible, if an observer will 
 take the trouble to compare in this respect the various districts wi^h 
 which he is acquainted. 
 
 * Seventh Edition. Pitman, 140 Gower Street. 1S79.
 
 3i6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX, 
 
 In some localities it is very rare to meet with persons afflicted with 
 impediments of speech, while in others, of which, says Dr. Abbotts 
 Smith, some parts of Lancashire may be taken as examples, it is not 
 unusual in the course of a single day to meet several persons who suffer 
 from these affections. In the northern districts of Ireland stammering 
 is a common affection, while in Dublin it is comparatively rare. 
 
 According to the special correspondent of the " Daily News " in Spain, 
 it is very rare to meet with a native of that country who is a stammerer. 
 Dr. Abbotts Smith thinks this may perhaps be attributed to the soft, 
 readily-flowing character of the Spanish language, in which opinion I 
 concur, as also in regard to the language of Italy, in which country 
 stammerers are also comparatively very rare. But I think a still 
 stronger reason is to be found in the full, sonorous tone in which 
 Spaniards and Italians as a rule produce, sustain, and finish the 
 numerous recurrent open vowels in their respective languages, and 
 which give them this " easily-flowing " character ; and these national 
 characteristics of pronunciation are, I believe, the result of the operation 
 of the law of heredity, as well as of unconscious imitation in early life. 
 
 In Germany, on the contrary, stammering is frequent ; and it was 
 ascertained by official returns some years ago that in Prussia the 
 proportion of stammerers was as high as two per looo. 
 
 There is no doubt, I think, alike from my own experience and the 
 observations of others, that impediments of speech are more common 
 among men than women, for which fact it is rather difficult to offer 
 any satisfactory explanation. The proportion of male to female 
 stammerers or stutterers is, in the opinion of Dr. Abbotts Smith, pro- 
 bably about three to one, and when impediments of speech do occur 
 in women, he thinks they are generally more difficult to cure than in 
 the case of men. Lisping, on the contrary, is more prevalent in women ; 
 and often, in Dr. Abbotts Smith's opinion, originates in mere affectation, 
 just as rhotacism, or changing the rough r into the sound of w, was at 
 one time an affectation of the " Sir Fwedewick Blounts " of fashionable 
 life, until at last that which was at first voluntarily adopted became by 
 long habit very difficult to shake off. The late Dr. Graves, of Dublin, 
 mentions in his Clinical Lectures a very remarkable case in confirma- 
 tion of this majority of males labouring under impediments of speech 
 as compared with females, and states that he was acquainted with a 
 family in which not a single female stammered, although there had 
 been three generations of male stammerers in this family. Dr. Abbotts 
 says that a very similar instance has come under his own observation, 
 and I may add that I have had under my own care all the male 
 members of two different families in the higher ranks of life who 
 stammered frightfully, while not one of the females had any impedi- 
 ment. Persons, in general, use the terms stammering and stuttering 
 indiscriminately, and call every variety of defective pronunciation by 
 one or the other of these names, as if they were only synonyms. 
 Stammering is the difficulty, in some cases the inability, to properly 
 enunciate some or many of the elementary speech-sounds, accompanied 
 or not by a slow, hesitating, more or less indistinct delivery, but 7iot
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 31? 
 
 altended with frequent repetitions of the initial sounds, and consequent 
 convulsive efforts to surmount the difficulty. 
 
 Stuttering, on the other hand, is a vicious utterance manifested by 
 frequent repetitions of initial or other elementary sounds, and always 
 more or less attended with muscular contortions. 
 
 The above is the definition of these two affections laid down by Dr. 
 Hunt in his admirable and exhaustive book on the subject,* and to him 
 is to be given the merit of having been, 1 believe, the first English writer 
 to discriminate accurately between these two disorders, which differ both 
 in kind and origin. To those who wish fully to investigate the history 
 of these painful and unfortunate affections, w^hich, unless removed, so 
 often mar all the sufferer's prospects in life, as well as to see the many 
 severe, cruel, and useless operations and mechanical appliances which, 
 from time to time, and by various persons, have been proposed, and too 
 often adopted, for the cure of these maladies, I most strongly recom- 
 mend Dr. Hunt's work on stammering, as well as his larger work, 
 entitled " The Philosophy of Voice and Speech." f I avail myself of 
 Dr. Hunt's excellent resume to place before you the chief causes of 
 stammering. 
 
 ''Vowel Stammering. — The belief that stammering occurs only in the 
 pronunciation of consonants is certainly erroneous ; the vowels are 
 equally subject to this defect, though not to the same extent as the con- 
 sonants. The proximate causes of defective-vowel sounds may have 
 their seat either in the vocal apparatus, or in the oral canal. The 
 original sounds may be deficient in quality, from an affection of the 
 vocal ligaments, as in hoarseness ; or the sounds may be altered in the 
 buccal and nasal cavities, from defects, or an improper use of the velum ; 
 in which cases the vowels are frequently aspirated. Enlargement of the 
 tonsils, defective lips and teeth, may also influence the enunciation of 
 the vowels. But the whole speech-apparatus may be in a healthy state, 
 and yet the enunciation of the vowels may be faulty, from misemploy- 
 ment, or from defective association of the various organs upon which 
 the proper articulation of the vowels depend. In some cases the faulty 
 pronunciation may be traced to some defect in the organ of hearing. 
 
 "defective enunciation of consonants. 
 
 " Consonantal Stammering may, like that of the vowels, be the result 
 of an organic affection, either of the vocal apparatus, or of the organs 
 of articulation. When, for instance, the soft palate, either from existing 
 apertures or inactivity of its muscles, cannot close the posterior nares, 
 so that the oral canal may be separated from the nasal tube, speech 
 acquires a nasal timbre, and the articulation of many consonants is 
 variously affected. B and/ then assume the sound of an indistinct m ; 
 d and / sound somewhat like n ; and g and k like 7ig. The action of 
 the velum during speech is thus described by Sir Charles Bell : — 
 
 '" In a person whom I had the pain of attending long after the bones 
 
 * Hunt on "Stammering." Longman & Co., i86i. 
 t Longman iSc Co., 1859.
 
 31 8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect XIX. 
 
 of the face were lost, and in whom I could look down behind the palate, 
 I saw the operation of the velum palatl. During speech it was in con- 
 stant motion ; and when the person pronounced the explosive letters, the 
 velum rose convex, so as to interrupt the ascent of breath in that direc- 
 tion ; and as the lips parted, or the tongue separated from the teeth or 
 palate, the velum recoiled forcibly.' 
 
 " On the other hand, closure of the nasal tube, either from a common 
 cold or other obstructions, affects the articulation of ;;/, ;/, 7ig, which 
 then sound nearly as b, d, g hard. 
 
 "the chief causes of stammering. 
 
 " The variety of defects which constitute stammering result either 
 from actual defective organisation or from functional disturbance. 
 Among organic defects may be enumerated : hare-lip, cleft-palate, 
 abnormal length and thickness of the uvula, inflammation and enlarge- 
 ment of the tonsils, abnormal size and tumours of the tongue, tumours 
 in the buccal cavity, want or defective position of the teeth, &c. 
 
 " Dr. Ashburner, in his work on Dentition, mentions a very curious 
 case of a boy who, though not deaf, could not speak. This he attributed 
 to the smallness of the jaws, which, taking at length a sudden start in 
 growth, by which the pressure was taken off from the dental nerves, the 
 organs became free, and the boy learned to speak. Considering that the 
 teeth play but a subordinate part in articulating — for all the speech 
 sounds, including even the dentals, may be pronounced without their 
 aid, as is the case in toothless age — it is certainly not a little singular 
 that the mere pressure on the dental nerves should produce such an 
 effect. It is very possible that in this case the motions of the lower 
 jaw and of the tongue were impeded, but even then it is not easy to 
 account for the fact that the child never attempted to articulate, how- 
 ever imperfectly. 
 
 " When the organs are in a normal condition, and the person is unable 
 to place them in a proper position to produce the desired effect,the affec- 
 tion is said to be functional. Debility, paralysis, spasms of the glottis, 
 lips, &c., owing to a central or local affection of the nerves, habit, 
 imitation, &c., may all more or less tend to produce stammering. 
 
 " From these observations it may be inferred that stammering is 
 either idiopathic, when arising from causes within the vocal and articu- 
 lating apparatus ; or it is symptomatic, when arising from cerebral irrita- 
 tion, paralysis, general debility, intoxication, &:c. Children stammer, 
 partly from imperfect developments of the organs of speech, want of 
 control, deficiency of ideas, and imitation, or in consequence of cerebral 
 and abdominal affections. The stammering, or rather faltering of old 
 people, chiefly arises from local or general debility. The cold stage of 
 fever, intoxication, loss of blood, narcotics, may all produce stammering. 
 Stammering is idiopathic and permanent in imbecility, when the slow- 
 ness of thought keeps pace with the imperfection of speech. It may 
 also be transitorily produced by sudden emotions. Persons gifted with 
 great volubility, when abruptly charged with some real or pretended 
 delinquency, may only be able to stammer out an excuse.
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 519 
 
 " STUTTERING. 
 
 " The main feature of stuttering consists in the difficulty in conjoining 
 and fluently enunciating syllables, words, and sentences. The interrup- 
 tions are more or less frequent, the syllables or words being thrown out 
 in jerks. Hence the speech of stutterers has been by Shakespeare* 
 (and by Plutarch before him) aptly compared to the pouring out of 
 water from a bottle with a long neck, which either flows in a stream, or 
 is intermittent ; the patient in the former case, feeling that his glottis is 
 open, endeavours to pour out as many words as possible before a new 
 interruption takes place. The stoppage of the sound may take place at 
 the second or third syllable of a word, but occurs more frequently at 
 the first, and the usual consequence is, that the beginning of a syllable 
 is several times repeated until the difficulty is conquered. The stutterer, 
 unless he be at the same time a stammerer, which is now and then the 
 case, has generally no difficulty in articulating the eletneiitary sounds, in 
 which respect he differs from the latter ; it is in the combination of 
 these sounds in the formation of words and sentences that his infirmity 
 consists. 
 
 "Stuttering does not attain to the same degree in all persons. In the 
 most simple cases the affection is but little perceptible ; the person 
 speaks nearly without interruption, and merely hesitates at certain con- 
 sonants, vowels, or syllables. In the second degree, the impediment is 
 much more marked and unpleasant to the listener. The repetitions 
 are more frequent, and though the discourse is nearly continuous, it is 
 effected by manifest efforts, and accompanied with gesticulations, by the 
 subjects dwelling sometimes longer than usual upon one syllable or 
 word, and uttering the rest of the sentence with greater rapidity, as if 
 they distrusted themselves. 
 
 "Sometimes the efforts of the patient are truly formidable. The 
 tongue flies about the mouth, the face reddens, the countenance is 
 distorted, even the eyes partake of the general commotion ; most of the 
 respiratory and vocal muscles are thrown into a spasmodic action, which 
 extends to the limbs. The patient fumes and stamps, sometimes pinch- 
 ing and hitting himself; frequently he feels a choking sensation, and 
 the perspiration flows from his forehead ; but despite of all his efforts, he 
 can only produce some discordant and inarticulate sounds. The whole 
 of these distressing phenomena is frequently the effect of the slightest of 
 all causes, the effort to articulate a difficult syllable ; for the paroxysm 
 can be instantly checked by the patient relaxing his effort, f 
 
 * " I pr'ythee, tell me who is it? quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst 
 stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes 
 out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I pr'ythee 
 take the cork out of thy mouth, that I may drink thy tidings." — As You Like Jt, Act 
 iii. Sc. 2. 
 
 t "Dr. Semmola (Opere Aliiio)-!., Nap., 1S45), states a case of a young .water- 
 carrier, who had not the aspect of disease. On asking him what was the matter, he 
 was seized by the most terrible convulsions, wliich continued until he brought out the 
 word, and returned on his attempting to speak. But when silent they immediately 
 ceased. The affection had come on a few days ago from a fright. Dr. Semmola con-
 
 320 AVA'G'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 " Vinvel Stuttering. — There prevails generally a belief that stuttering 
 only occurs when the initial sound is a consonant; this is an error, for 
 the affection may extend to all the sounds, vowels as well as consonants. 
 In order to understand this, we must bear in mind, that though a word 
 may commence with a vowel, it is still requisite that the glottis should 
 be previously narrowed or closed, for the purpose of placing the vocal 
 chords in a proper position to vibrate. In normal speech the contraction 
 lasts but an instant, being immediately followed by the requisite vibra- 
 tion of the ligaments. In certain conditions, however, the contraction 
 of the glottis lasts longer than usual, and the vowel sound is stopped 
 in the glottis ; or, as is not quite correctly said, vox faucibus hceret. 
 This state may be merely transitory, the result of some sudden powerful 
 emotion or passion. Tears, grief, joy, anger, all may take away the 
 power of utterance. The greatest singers are frequently, on making 
 their first appearance before an audience, upon whose approval their 
 fate depends, unable to utter a single note. The vowels u (as heard in 
 rude) and o seem to offer to the stutterer greater difficulties than e (as in 
 ebb) or i (as in it). 
 
 " Consonantal Stuttering. — Though stuttering, as has been shown, 
 extends also to the vowels, yet it chiefly occurs at the utterance of the 
 mute and explosive consonants and their medials, as /, /, k, b, d, g, m, 
 &:c. The aspirated and continuous sounds, as/, w, s, &c., offer much 
 less difficulties, as the oral canal is then not so completely closed as in 
 the explosives. 
 
 "Let me not be understood to join in the common error — first, that 
 it is on account of the difficulty of articulating the explosives that 
 stuttering occurs ; and secondly, that stuttering begins during the 
 enunciation of these consonants. The articulation of the explosives 
 and mutes is, />er se, not more difficult than that of the other conso- 
 nants. The very first letters, indeed, which the child learns to utter are 
 m, p, d, b, papa, mamma, dada, &c. Again, the stutterer (not the 
 stammerer) has no difficulty of articulating the consonants individually, 
 for we hear him repeat in rapid succession b, b, b, b, t, t, t, and so on. 
 What is it then that distresses the stutterer? — surely not the initial 
 explosive. Why, it is the enunciation of the following sound, be it a 
 vowel or a consonant, which is his difficulty ; he cannot join them, and 
 it is this which makes him repeat the explosive until the conjunction is 
 effected. It is, therefore, during the transition from one mechanism to 
 another that the impediment chiefly takes place. 
 
 " A syllable or a word may commence with a vowel followed by a 
 consonant, or it may commence with a consonant followed by a vowel. 
 At first sight, it may appear that it matters very little whether the vowel 
 or the consonant is the initial sound. A little reflection will show that 
 it makes all the difference. In commencing a syllable with a vowel, 
 the oral canal is more widely opened than when it commences with a 
 consonant. In forming the syllables ap, ebb, ott, &c., all that is 
 necessary is to close the buccal cavity to produce the consonant, the 
 
 sidered it a case of hypersthenea cerebralis, and bled and leeched him at the temples. 
 After ten hours he was able to speak well."
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. zz\ 
 
 change in the mouth being easily adjusted, and few stutterers (unless 
 they are also vowel stutterers) find any difficulty in enunciating such 
 syllables. But when a consonant commences the syllable, the mecha- 
 nism is reversed, the oral canal must be opened to produce the vowel ; 
 the articulating organs must be released from the state of contraction, 
 and the vowel must overcome the consonant. This it may appear 
 could be easily effected, if it were merely requisite to give free vent to 
 the interrupted air current by opening the mouth. But it must be 
 considered that in the articulation of the explosives there is, in fact, a 
 double obstruction of the sound, not merely in the mouth, but also in 
 the glottis, as in their enunciation the larynx is fixed, which is not 
 necessary in the other consonants. Both these obstructions nmst not 
 only be suddenly removed, but {and which is the difficulty) there must 
 be at the same moment when the oral canal is opened in front and 
 behind, a sound produced in the larynx by forcing the air from the 
 lungs ; that is to say, that during the formation ot the explosive, the 
 vowel must be ready to follow and to overcome it. If this cannot be 
 effected, the muscles which close the oral canal may continue in a state 
 of contraction, and the formation of the syllable is retarded until 
 repeated attempts prove more successful in liberating the articulating 
 organs. It is the disturbed relation and the antagonism between the 
 vocal and the articulating mechanism which give rise to stuttering ; 
 the spasmodic condition of the glottis, which only takes place in the 
 explosive sounds, is the effect and not the cause of the disturbed relation. 
 Both Sauvages and Joseph Frank * contend that the gutturals g and k 
 offer the greatest impediment to the stutterer, and that the chief cause 
 is the difficulty of moving the velum, the uvula, and the root of the 
 tongue. This is not invariably the case. Some stutterers pronounce 
 these consonants in various combinations easily enough, but stutter at 
 the dentals and labials /, ^, t, d. There are again some in whom the 
 impediment varies ; they hesitate one day at the gutturals, another day 
 at the labials, or may be at the dentals, depending, no doubt, in most 
 cases on their combinations with the succeeding sounds. 
 
 "principal causes of stuttering. 
 
 " Among the exciting causes of stuttering may be enumerated affec- 
 tions of the brain and spinal cord, the abdominal canal, abnormal irri- 
 tability of the nervous system, vice, mental emotions, mimicry, and 
 involuntary imitation. The proximate cause of stuttering is, in most 
 cases, the abnormal action of the phonetic and respiratory apparatus, 
 and not, like stammering, the result either of organic defects, or the 
 debility of the articulating organs." 
 
 I have had, in the course of the private practice of my vocation, a 
 great number of pupils who have presented almost every variety of 
 stammering, stuttering, and defective articulation, so that my experience 
 of such cases, and the successful means to be employed for removing 
 them in each individual case, is tolerably large and comprehensive. 
 * "Nosol. method. 1772. Praxeos Medicse Universie precepta. Lipsia, 1811-23." 
 
 X
 
 322: KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 Since I have had the honour of filling the office of Lecturer on Public 
 Reading and Speaking in these King's College Evening Classes, I have 
 met with some few students who have suffered from impediments of 
 speech of various kinds, but a great many members of the class have 
 had their pronunciation characterised more or less by defective articula- 
 tion, of which I have observed the most frequent to be inability to pro- 
 nounce the rough, or as it is sometimes called, the trilled R, often 
 giving it the sound of W ; the double breath co7isotiant "Th," often 
 giving it the sound of F ; the due aspiration of the H in words where 
 it should be heard ; the proper simple sibilation of the S, converting it 
 into the sound of SH or TH, or what is termed the lisp; inability to 
 sound rightly the last of the letters in words which terminate in NG ; an 
 impure sounding of the voice-consonants M and N, so that they have 
 almost the sound of B and D ; and weakness in the articulation of what 
 are called explosive consonants, particularly P and B. The vowels, 
 too, I have often found to be impurely sounded. 
 
 In all such cases it has been my practice to form a private class, and 
 give them in my own room lessons adapted for the removal of their 
 several defects in pronunciation, before they again joined the general 
 class for PubUc Reading and Speaking. Now for overcoming such 
 defects it is essential the pupil should be shown exactly how each letter 
 in the alphabet is properly formed by the various speech organs ; and as 
 my object in publishing this Lecture is to afford, as far as mere verbal 
 instruction can convey it, a knowledge of this first and most important 
 element in the art of overcoming difficulties in pronunciation, I have 
 thought it best to add to this Lecture an appendix, in which the pupil 
 will find, not merely an exact and minute description of the manner in 
 which each letter in our alphabet is formed by the voice and articulating 
 organs, but also under each letter a series of appropriate exercises, the 
 practice of which should be diligently carried out (if possible under the 
 watchful care of a judicious master) in order to acquire purity, firmness, 
 audibility and distinctness in the pronunciation of all the various letters. 
 I can assure you, from a long and varied experience in treating persons 
 labouring under impediments of all kinds, that a knowledge of the 
 correct mode of forming the different letters is of the most essential 
 service to the stammerer and stutterer, as well as to those who imagine 
 they are incapable of pronouncing certain particular letters. I have 
 never yet met with any individual in either sex who, provided there was 
 no organic defect of structure in the vocal or articulating organs, could 
 not be taught, by proper explanation and practice, to overcome all diffi- 
 culties, and pronounce every letter in the English alphabet. When 
 attempting to pronounce a letter in which the pupil always experiences 
 a difficulty, the trial should be made at first with extreme slowness 
 and precision. This applies equally to letters and to words ; and in 
 the latter instance care must be taken that every syllable (especially 
 the light or unaccented syllable, which is very apt to be slurred over) 
 be clearly and distinctly articulated. It has been truly said, by a late 
 medical writer (Mr. Bartlett), that — 
 
 " Stammering proceeds by steps so gradual, as to be scarcely per-
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 323 
 
 ceptible from a slight hesitation at particular times only, and which a 
 person not accustomed to this kind of disease would not notice, to a 
 constant stammering accompanied with violent efforts at pronunciation, 
 and great contortion of the countenance : these two states, apparently 
 so dissimilar, are produced by the same cause, and are essentially the 
 same, the disease being more violent in the one case than in the other. 
 If this slight hesitation, observable only at certain times, be not attended 
 to, it will, if it occur in a sensitive and diffident person, and especially if 
 a quick talker, come on more frequently, becoming worse each time of 
 its attack, until it is gradually formed into complete stammering. I 
 need scarcely remark, that a hesitation admits of an easier and a quicker 
 cure than a case of confirmed stammering. It therefore becomes the 
 duty of a person who hesitates, a duty not only to himself but to his 
 family also, not to continue to speak in his usual hesitating, undecided 
 manner, but to endeavour to breakthrough his old habits, and to articulate 
 with a precision equal to that of his friends. On the other hand, if he 
 neglect the rules here prescribed, he will be compelled to look forward 
 to a life of confirmed stammering, to an incapability of expressing his 
 thoughts, to a perfect seclusion from society. Let me prevail on all those 
 who hesitate in the slightest not to defer the endeavour to throw off this 
 pernicious habit. The stammerer should be urged to cure himself, not 
 solely on account of his own sufferings ; he should consider also the 
 pain which his futile attempts at pronunciation must inflict on his friends, 
 who are at all times fearful lest his articulation prove defective ; if 
 regardless of himself, he surely ought to study the comfort of his family 
 and his friends. In not curing himself, the stammerer does his utmost 
 to perpetuate the disease in his own family. If the imitation of an 
 indifferent person be so likely to occasion this disease, how much the 
 more probable is it for this malady to be produced when the person 
 imitated is one who is respected and esteemed ! It may be said in 
 extenuation, that the stammerer inculcates the principle to his children 
 that they are to imitate his good points only, and that they are particularly 
 to avoid his manner of speaking : — this may be attempted, but it will 
 not succeed. Imitation is a principle inherent in us ; man will continue 
 to imitate until his nature is changed. How can the stammerer expect 
 his children to accomplish that which was out of his own power? 
 Could he avoid imitation ? Did he not imitate ? Then why is it that 
 he expects his children to possess that exemption from imitation which 
 he himself did not ? 
 
 " Ancient medicine is deficient in information on stammering ; and 
 what Hippocrates, Aristotle, and Galen have said is scarcely worthy of 
 note. They are especially silent on the treatment : this is the more to 
 be wondered at, since elocution opened the road to honours and the 
 first dignities of the State." 
 
 I differ, however, entirely from Mr. Bartlett when he advises patients 
 suffering from imperfect articulation to practise reciting or reading Greek 
 and Latin passages, rather than what he calls our " harsh and rugged 
 English." I utterly deny that the English of good composition is either 
 a "harsh or rugged" language, when properly read or spoken, unless
 
 324 laNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 words of " harsh and rugged " sound be purposely introduced on the 
 principle I have before adverted to, viz., that oi co?icord h&iwecn sound 
 and sense — a principle that prevails in all languages' with which I have 
 any acquaintance. 
 
 It is a curious fact, but certainly my own experience warrants me in 
 saying that very few, if any, stammerers or stutterers ever habituallv 
 rightly and properly form or duly sustain their vowels in reading, and 
 still less in speaking. I have noticed, also, that this defect is more gene- 
 rally found, not only in northern nations as distinguished from southern, 
 but also in inhabitants of the northern counties of our own island more 
 frequently than in those of the south, and in the natives of Scotland 
 oftener than in those of England and Ireland. On the other hand, I 
 have remarked that in general they possess the counterbalancing advan- 
 tage of articulating the consonants more firmly and distinctly. Persons 
 who have been taught the art of singing, almost always sound the vowels 
 and sustain them in reading or speaking better than those who have not 
 acquired that accomplishment; and I have frequently advised, with 
 manifestly good results, pupils of both sexes, who have laboured under 
 impediments of speech, to take a course of lessons under a teacher of 
 singing, while going through the method of treatment specially adapted 
 to remove their individual defects in pronunciation. 
 
 And now I enter on that branch of the subject to which this Lecture 
 is more particularly directed, viz., the right method of overcoming and 
 effectually removing all impediments of speech ; I venture to think that 
 in comparatively slight cases, and where the malady is only just begin- 
 ning, the regular and steady observance of the rules I am about to give 
 will be amply sufficient to remove all difficulty in delivery. In more 
 serious cases, and in cases of long standing, the aid of the experienced 
 master who has given his time and careful attention to such subjects 
 of study, should be sought without delay, that he by observation may 
 ascertain what are the special parts of the vocal or articulating mecha- 
 nism which are at fault, and point out to the patient what are the rules 
 particularly applicable to his individual case, and which must be at all 
 times and on all occasions observed and strictly carried out by him. 
 And here let me, in the most emphatic manner, say that the removal of 
 every variety of stammering and stuttering, as well as all other kinds of 
 defective articulation, rests, after all, mainly in the ever-watchful self- 
 vigilance, and daily and hourly care and practice of the patient himself. 
 He must be taught to do that at first slowly, and consciously, which the 
 person who has no sort of impediment or defect in speaking does easily 
 and unconsciously. This must be done steadily and perscveringly, until 
 an old bad habit is quite forgotten, and a new and good one is acquired so 
 thoroughly as to form, as it were, "a second nature" with the patient. 
 In my own practice with such cases I repudiate entirely the use of any 
 sort of mechanical appliance, and I rely (provided, of course, that there 
 is no cleft palate or other organic defect) upon a natural process of cure 
 alone. In all such cases I am of opinion that Nature has but to be 
 set to pursue her course in the right direction, and all difficulties in 
 pronunciation will be eventually entirely removed.
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 325 
 
 But again I say most earnestly that all that the very best and most 
 experienced teacher can do, is to ascertain what is the special cause of 
 the impediment, and point out the right rules to be always observed by 
 the patient for its removal. If the latter fail to observe them, he will 
 most assuredly relapse ; but if he will only exercise ordinary patience and 
 self-care and vigilance, and remember to carry out the right method he 
 has been made acquainted with, as specially applicable to his individual 
 case, he will as certainly reap the rich reward of possessing ere long 
 perfect ease, self-possession, and fluency of speech at all times and upon 
 all occasions. And with these words of encouragement, as well as 
 warning, I proceed now to lay down the general 
 
 RULES TO BE OBSERVED FOR THE REMOVAL OF STAMMERING, STUTTERING, 
 AND OTHER IMPEDIMENTS OF SPEECH. 
 
 In the first place, the patient should endeavour to acquire a habit of 
 calm self-possession, and try to free the mind as far as possible, when in 
 the presence of others, of all fear and trepidation, and avoid all excesses 
 of any kind, and all undue causes of excitement. 
 
 Secondly. — Before the patient who is labouring under stammering, 
 stuttering, or any kind of impediment, attempts to speak or read, let 
 him first t^nke care that the upper surface of the tongue is applied to 
 the roof of the mouth immediately behind the front teeth, A calm, 
 but at the same time thoroughly full and deep inspiration, will then 
 cause the air to enter the lungs by its proper channel, viz., the air- 
 passages of the nostrils ; the lungs will become then properly inflated, 
 and the chest and ribs will rise and expand, so that the lungs will have 
 ample room for the due performance of all their functions. It is 
 perfectly certain that all articulation occurs only during the expiration 
 of the air from the lungs in its outward passage through the windpipe, 
 vocal cords, and mouth ; consequently, when the lungs are inade- 
 quately inflated, and there is but a small quantity of air within them, 
 there must necessarily be experienced a great difficulty in speaking. 
 This can be tested readily enough. Let any person run a short distance 
 at full speed, and then be asked at once to relate some story or read 
 some book. He will find it is quite impossible for him to do so, and 
 the chances are that he will not be able to pronounce half-a-dozen 
 consecutive words. Why is this ? The answer is very short and simple. 
 In common parlance, the runner, by reason of the violent exercise he 
 has taken, is "out of breath ;" that is to say, he has not enough air in 
 his lungs for the purpose of articulation. Now then let this exhausted 
 runner rest a minute or two, and take a long and full inspiration, in 
 the manner I have already sufficiently explained, and he will find then 
 that he can speak or read with audibility and distinctness. Now here, 
 in fact. Nature has been her own physician. Is it not the strongest 
 proof of the vital importance it must be to the confirmed stammerer 
 or stutterer, to thoroughly inflate his lungs in the proper way before he 
 begins to speak or read at all, and at every proper pause in his discourse 
 to avail himself systematically of the opportunity afforded of calmly, 
 but adequately, in the same way of replenishing the lungs, and so
 
 326 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 supplying them with a fresh supply of air in lieu of that which has been 
 expended in the production of voice and speech ? Dr. Chervin of Paris, 
 at the general meeting of the International Congress of Physicians, held 
 in the autumn of 1878 at Amsterdam, in a paper which he read on 
 Stammering, defined it as "the rhythm of respiration destroyed," and 
 said that, with perseverance and attention on the part of the patient, it 
 might be cured in three weeks. 
 
 Thirdly. — In the act of speaking and reading, the patient must take 
 care to control thoroughly the outward passage of the breath, and to 
 let it escape as slowly as possible. The expiration should be thoroughly 
 economised ; none of it should be wasted by letting any escape before 
 the act of speech begins. It should not be allowed to come out in 
 jerks or gasps, but its passage should be easy, steady, and gradual ; 
 for it cannot be too firmly borne in mind that it is on the extension, 
 combined with the regularity of expiration, that the intensity, the 
 duration, and the steadiness of all vocal vibrations depend ; and Sehor 
 Garcia's test of practising the voice with a lighted candle held before 
 the mouth may be applied here. If the flame be extinguished, or even 
 wavers much, the patient may take it as a sign that he is expending 
 too much air. 
 
 Fourthly. — I would impress on the patient who may be suffering under 
 any kind of impediment of speech, the indispensable necessity that the 
 greatest care and attention should be given that the lips, teeth, and tongue 
 all perform strictly their several functions when employing the letters 
 requiring the individual or combined use of them. For this purpose 
 let the patient refer to the appendix I have added to this Lecture, in 
 which he will find minute directions for the right formation of every 
 letter in the alphabet, together with a copious series of exercises on every 
 vowel or consonant singly or in combination. The great advantage, or 
 rather I should say, the absolute and indispensable necessity, of observing 
 this rule must be evident to every one who reflects on the subject for a 
 moment ; for how can manifold and widely-different sounds be properly 
 produced by the same structures, if the passage through which they 
 have to pass be not modified in shape ? And yet it will be noticed 
 many persons speak with a very loose action of the lips, and scarcely 
 any perceptible alteration in their forms. Can it be wondered at that 
 such persons are always feeble and indistinct in their delivery, and when 
 they attempt to speak in public, are always very imperfectly heard, even 
 by those who are near them ? It will be seen on referring to the 
 appendix there are very many letters which can be sounded or articu- 
 lated by no other means than a decided alteration in the form of the 
 mouth, and equally marked change in the shape of the lips. 
 
 Fifthly. — Having thoroughly been made to understand the precise 
 formation and clear sound of every letter in the alphabet, next let the 
 pupil compare, and form an accurate notion of, the corresponding sound 
 which exists between the termination of each syllable or word, and the 
 sound of the letter itself which so ends it, that he may thus conceive a 
 proper idea of the sound to be produced ; as, for instance, "m" in the word 
 " them," " n " in " then," " e " in " thee," " o " in " no," " x " in "rex," &c.
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 327 
 
 Sixthly. — Let the patient effectually conquer the bad habit which pre- 
 vails so largely among those who stutter or stammer (I really think my 
 own experience warrants me in saying in ninety-nine out of every hundred 
 stammerers) of keeping the lips apart and the mouth open. Nothing 
 can be worse hi every 7vay thaji this bad habit, either as regards the 
 power of clear articulation and fluent speech, the proper condition of 
 the lungs, or the vacant expression which it gives the countenance. I 
 always tell all stammering pupils frankly, if I see they have this vile 
 habit, that I can do very little, if anything, towards removing their various 
 impediments until they have thoroughly conquered it, and acquired the 
 habit of always keeping the lips firmly but easily pressed together; except, 
 of course, when reading or speaking. Even in sleep, if possible, the 
 mouth should always be kept closed, and the respiration only carried on 
 through the air-passages of the nostrils. To all persons, whether affected 
 with impediments of speech or not, I would say in the most earnest 
 manner, acquire the habit of conducting the function of respiration 
 always by the air-passages which lead from the nostrils ; never by means 
 of the open mouth. If the reader would wish to see minutely in detail 
 «//the good results which follow, and all the evils which are avoided, by 
 acquiring this habit, I refer him again to the book I mentioned, lately 
 published by Mr. George Catlin, the North American Indian traveller, 
 entitled " The Breath of Life." * 
 
 Seventhly. — This rule that I am about to give follows almost as a 
 necessary corollary from the last. All persons, but more especially the 
 stammerer, should acquire the habit of keeping the upper surface of the 
 tongue, when not speaking, closely applied to the roof of the mouth, the 
 point of the tongue being immediately behind the upper front teeth. 
 When the tongue is so placed it is in the best possible situation for 
 beginning to speak or read, for voice is produced by a slight depression, 
 and hence articulation is much facilitated. Keeping the tongue at the 
 bottom of the mouth, instead of placing it in the proper position as just 
 described, is, I can assure the stammerer, one of the worst habits possible 
 for him, or any one affected with impediments of speech. Stammerers 
 anxious to pronounce a word beginning with a lingual immediately 
 endeavour to do so without applying the tongue to the roof of the mouth. 
 This being impossible, they struggle in vain to speak, and are wholly 
 incapable of the slightest articulation. After the tongue has been rightly 
 placed, and a good inspiration taken in the proper way, it is very far from 
 usual to perceive much difficulty after the first syllable has been well and 
 carefully articulated. It may be truly said here, that when not deficient 
 in breath, '■'' c'est le premier pas qui cotlte^' with the stammerer or stutterer. 
 Both may rest assured that it is perfectly impossible for them, or any one 
 else, to articulate without strictly following out this direction, and therefore 
 it is of the very utmost importance that it should be always borne in mind 
 by those who have habitually any difficulty in articulation. The stam- 
 merer, stutterer, and every one affected with any kind of defective articu- 
 lation, should make it a matter of the most scrupulous care when silent 
 to keep the tongue completely and closely applied to the roof of the 
 * Triibner & Co.. Lundoa
 
 328 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 mouth ; for when in this position, it is ready and able to perform all its 
 functions most effectually, and with the greatest promptitude. If per- 
 sons suffering from impediments of speech will only bear in mind this 
 direction, they will spare themselves all those distressing spasmodic 
 convulsions of the tongue, lips, and sometimes the whole countenance, 
 which are almost as painful to the spectator to witness as they are to 
 the sufferer to endure. 
 
 Eighthly. — Let the patient who has any kind of difficulty or impedi- 
 ment in speech, most scrupulously avoid all hasty, careless shirring of 
 words. He must give every syllable that is long its proper quantity, by 
 dwelling on the vowel sound in it, and also avoid making any syllable 
 which is short improperly long. Especially should he observe the great 
 law of poise, and make every syllable that is heavy really so by the due 
 weight or percussion of the voice on it, and let the corresponding 
 reaction be equally perceptible on the syllable that is light. I refer the 
 patient to what I have said already on the necessity of properly using 
 the mechanism of the action and reaction of the larynx for thoroughly 
 carrying out and duly maintaining this poise in all speaking and reading. 
 
 Ninthly. — I earnestly advise all persons with impediments of speech, 
 whether confirmed stammerers and stutterers, or only just beginning to 
 hesitate, to be very slow and deliberate in reading and speaking, espe- 
 cially at first. Among the large number of patients whom I have had 
 under my care for the removal of all kinds of impediments and difficul- 
 ties in articulation, I have met with but very few who did not habitually 
 speak with painful rapidity, and at times almost breathless haste, until 
 they are suddenly stopped in mid career of their impetuous speech by 
 the impediment suddenly coming on. By a spasmodic effort, eventually 
 they recover their power of articulation, and rattle on with their hurried 
 words until they are once more arrested in the same way, in the very 
 midst of a word, perhaps ; and so they go on to the pain and distress 
 of themselves and those whom they are addressing. In the life of 
 Charles Kingsley, recently published, will be found a most sensible 
 letter addressed to a young lady, who laboured under an impediment 
 of speech, which concludes by telling her above all things to take care 
 in reading and speaking {until the impediment is quite overcome) to be 
 " SLOW — SLOW — SLOW." It is well known that the late Canon Kingsley 
 in early life was a great sufferer from stammering, and was cured by the 
 late Dr. Hunt. 
 
 Tenthly. — Let the stammerer, in speaking, have the word he intends 
 to use in his mind before he attempts to utter it with his mouth. In 
 fact, the mind, in speaking, should always be trained to be in advance 
 of the lips. No person should attempt to speak a single sentence until 
 he knows thoroughly beforehand what it is that he intends to say, and the 
 choice of words being mentally made, he should then pronounce them 
 firmly and deliberately. Let the patient begin to acquire confidence by 
 practising reading aloud first, then recitation from memory, and lastly, a 
 short extempore discourse on some subject. Then let him repeat the 
 same series of exercises in the same order to one or two friends, and as 
 his confidence in himself increases, it would be desirable to increase the
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 329 
 
 number of his audience. By these means he will find his difficulties 
 gradually disappear, and ease, fluency, and self-possession will take the 
 place of hesitation, timidity, and self-distrust. 
 
 It is right to mention that Dr. Coen of Vienna, who has acquired a 
 great Continental reputation for his successful treatment of stammering, 
 stuttering, and other defects of speech, strongly advises the use of Ling's 
 Swedish system of gymnastics as a most valuable accessory to all elocu- 
 tionary treatment of the various causes which hinder fluency of speech ; 
 and in doing so he necessarily implies that the whole muscular system 
 requires bracing. Dr. Shuldham also, in the last edition of his work on 
 " Stammering and its Treatment," states that he, too, makes use of the 
 movement-cure, when it is specially indicated, and in addition advises 
 his patients to take strong exercise in the open air. 
 
 In the advisability of such accessories being employed, I most 
 thoroughly concur. It is impossible for the nervous and muscular 
 systems not to be greatly strengthened by such exercises when gradually 
 and judiciously carried out. Dr. Shuldham mentions also that great 
 importance is given by Dr. Coen to elocutionary treatment of defects 
 of speech, and that, as valuable accessories to such treatment, he makes 
 use, when he deems it advisable, of electricity and the water-cure.
 
 SUPPLEMENT TO LECTURE XIX. 
 
 The Functions of the Vocal and Speech Organs in the formation of all tlie various 
 letters of the English alphabet, singly and in combination — Full Tables of Exercises 
 for Practice, as applicalsle to Stammerers, Stutterers, and all persons suffering from 
 any kind of Defective or Imperfect Articulation. 
 
 S an appendix to the forgeoing Lecture on impediments and 
 defects of speech, I subjoin the following series of exercises 
 on the various consonants and vov^'els, singly and in combina- 
 tion, selected from various sources, but chiefly from the large 
 edition (1820) of the treatise on Elocution, by the late Mr. 
 B. H. Smart, the daily practice of the pronunciation of which will be 
 found most useful to persons labouring under defective articulation, and 
 will contribute much to firmness and fluency of speech. 
 
 PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 As the following exercises are intended, not for acquiring the pronun- 
 ciation of our language, but for improving it, the consonants are brought 
 forward before the vowels, because the most usual defects of utterance 
 may chiefly be traced to them. And as an alphabetical arrangement of 
 consonants would not be accompanied with any advantage, the following 
 order, which has been found a convenient one, is preferred : /;, w,y, ng, s, 
 and z, sh and its correspondent vocal, /and v, th and its correspondent 
 vocal, /, m, 91, r, p, and b, k and g, /, and d. In reading ihe praxes on 
 these sounds, the pupil must be careful to form each consonant with 
 strong compressive force, and those formed with the voice should be 
 made distinct from those formed with the breath. To know what sounds 
 are represented, these two directions should be constantly in view : 
 
 1. The letter or letters denoting the sound exemplified, are iji italic. 
 
 2. When a letter or letters denote the sound exemplified aiid something 
 more, they are printed in capital. 
 
 The pronouncing of detached words may be so conducted as to be a 
 very useful preparatory training of the ear and of the voice. As words 
 unconnected in sense require no particular tone, the student will, if left 
 to himself, sometimes adopt an upward, sometimes a downward inflec- 
 tion, according to the impulse of the moment ; that is to say, if he read 
 them in quick succession, the idea of continuation will induce him to 
 pronounce each with a conjunctive inflection ; if he read them slowly,
 
 Lect. XIX.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 331 
 
 the pause after each will probably determine him to employ the dis- 
 junctive. Let it be his object to acquire the power of uttering the one 
 or the other of these inflections at pleasure. This will, at first, be 
 attended with no slight difificulty : though determined, perhaps, to use 
 the downward inflection, the idea of continuation will prevail, and cause 
 him to use the other in spite of himself: being sensible of his failure, 
 he will make a second trial, and probably imagine because he has pro- 
 nounced the word in a lower or softer tone, that he has altered the 
 inflection : this, however, does not necessarily follow ; for the same 
 inflection may be pitched very high or very low, and it may be uttered 
 very gently or very forcibly. To avoid these mistakes, he must, during 
 some time, use the following form of a question as a test : — Did I say 
 strange or strknge ? By this he will be instinctively impelled to utter 
 the word, first, with an upward then with a downward slide, and to know, 
 by comparison, in which manner he had previously uttered it. After 
 some time the ear will become familiar with the slides, and the test may 
 be laid aside. Having them now entirely at command, he must exercise 
 his voice in carrying them, as far as possible, from one extreme to the 
 other, something in the manner of a singer running the gamut from low 
 to high, and high to low. Let him also vary their motion, making them 
 sometimes rapid and sometimes slow. Such an exercise on detached 
 words will probably be thought a little ridiculous, but the student may 
 rest confident of its utility. It will not only give him a clear feeling of 
 the kind of tones he ought to use, but will add flexibility to his voice, 
 and remove from it any unpleasant monotony ; for what is called a 
 monotonous voice, is not, in fact, a voice that never gets above or below 
 one musical key, but one which is incapable of taking a sufficient 
 compass in its inflections. 
 
 The same exercises may be made to serve another purpose, namely, 
 the gradual training of the speaker to the due preservation of rhyihmus. 
 Lists of unconnected words, in pronouncing which there can be no 
 danger of sacrificing sense to sound, seem to offer the best introduction 
 to systematic practice on this subject ; and accordingly, the lists are 
 arranged for this purpose among others, by keeping together, as much 
 as possible, words of similar accentuation. In pronouncing these, the 
 returns of accent will be regular, and the student is desired to mark 
 each return by beating time with his hand, observing to make a pause of 
 equal duration between each word, regulated by the beating of the hand. 
 
 At the end of the praxis on each consonant, an exercise on Liter- 
 junction is given. 
 
 h. 
 
 The sound denoted by this letter consists merely in a forcible expulsion of the breath. 
 In the following exercise, it is judged advisable to intermingle words in which the 
 sound is not required with others that demand it, that the pupil may become secure 
 both in the use of it and in the omission. In some words h is quite silent ; namely, 
 in heir, honest, honour, hour, and all the derivatives. These will be known by the 
 letter not being in italic. In a few words, namely, those in which letter follows 
 •vh, the sound generally denoted by h alone is denoted hy the two letters -mH, which 
 will be known by both letters being in italic. If the w is not in italic, it must* have its
 
 332 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 proper sound, which must follow, and not precede, the forcible expulsion of breath 
 signified by h. 
 
 //all all aunt //aunt who art heir //air hour //ew //uge rc/zole w//ale w//eat 
 
 w//ig //eathen //ydra honest //umble //uman //umour w/zolly honour 
 
 w//irlpool w//imper //ostler «'//olesome co//ort //ot//ouse //arts//orn 
 
 //ereout //erein //ereon //arangue be//ind per//aps inert in//ale ab//or 
 
 //armony artichoke //umanise //udibras humorous hospital ve//ement 
 
 co//obate be//emoth //eteroclite //eterodox //ospitable //ydromancy 
 
 //orticulture //ieroglyphical incompre/zensible //ypochondriacal //elio- 
 
 centrical. 
 
 He-//ad-learned-the-7£'//ole-art-of-angling by-//eart. 
 
 Be-honest //umble and-//umane //ate-not-even-your-enemies. 
 The-portrait-of-an-old-w//ig in-a-bro\vn-wig. 
 With-many-a-weary-step and-many-a-groan 
 Up-a-//igh-//ill //e-//eaved a-//uge-round-stone. 
 
 w: y. 
 
 These letters, when at the beginning of words or syllables, denote consonants, the 
 former of which consists in a forcible action of the lips when in the position to utter 
 the vowel generally denoted by oo ; and the latter in a forcible action of the under jaw 
 when the organs are placed to sound e. Both these sounds are occasionally denoted 
 by other characters, which the pupil will discover by the letters in italic. With the 
 examples other words are mingled, that the reader may make the sound he is practising 
 clearly distinct from those with which it is in danger of being confounded. 
 
 W. 
 
 7£'ay 7£'aft One Once who 7<:'oo 7C'ain vane vine rcine hood w/ood wcAi 
 
 K'omb wo ooze whose woos saloon s?/ite b//oy q?^ake chcir th7£/art 
 
 «.'oman wolsey woo^x 7£'orm7<:'ood f-or7£/ard frozt'ard quorum qz^agmire 
 c?/irass. 
 
 A-7fight 7£/ell-versed-in-7f-'aggery. 
 
 Give-me-free-air or-I-soon-shall-s7£'oon. 
 
 He-7£'ooed-the-7f>oman but-she-Z£'Ould-not-7C'ed. 
 
 j^awn _)'ell he yt jvean hear ear jear jield j^ou U Use hUge nEW dUke 
 
 tUne -j'early jvouthful j(^ew-tree Useful HUmour span/el mill/on gen/i 
 
 pon/ard as/a nausea roseate indian odious dUty tUEsday. 
 
 ye-are-stUd/bus-to-vit/ate. 
 The-nEW-tUne sUIts-the-dUke. 
 
 Fouth with-ill-H Umour is-od/ous, 
 Last-jear I-could-not-hear with-either ear. 
 
 The consonant usually denoted by ng is a simple sound, quite distinct from the 
 sound of either « or g when alone. It consists in an utterance of the voice througli 
 tlie nose, while the back part of the tongue gently touches the correspondent part of 
 the palate. The common fault in sounding these letters is, pronouncing them as «
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION'. 333 
 
 alone. But in avoiding this fault, the learner must not run into the other, and articu- 
 late the g, unless custom has assigned the g to the following syllable ; for then the g 
 must be sounded, and the n in the foregoing syllable pronounced as ng. These cases 
 will be known among the examples by the n alone being in italic. 
 
 gSifig Y\ng ?,Y>r\ng snng young \engih. stre;?^th ba«k si«k co;/ch hQing 
 
 nothi«^ writi;/^ readiw^- smger hx'mger ha.nging hrbigbig robin robbi;/','' 
 chopin choppi;/§" matin matti;;^'' a«ger a;/guish co;/'gress co//course a;zxious 
 
 anchor banquet disti;/guish extiz/guish unthi;«king diphtho;/gal triph- 
 
 tho//gal anxiety. 
 
 Readi/^^i^'-and-writi;;^ are-arts-of-striki;/o--importance ; danc'vig draw- 
 ing and-si;;^iǤ- bei//^-all-accomplishnients are-deservi;/f-of-less-regard. 
 
 Alexander-at-a-ba/?quet with-a-co«course-of-flatterers overcome-by- 
 a/;ger, led-by-a-co//cubine, is-a-stro;;g-example that-he-who-co;/quers-ki;/g- 
 doms may-have-neglected-the-more-noble-co;2quest-of-himself. 
 
 s and z. 
 
 The consonants properly denoted by these letters are formed by touching the upper 
 gum of the lower front teeth with the tip of the tongue, — using, for the former, an 
 utterance of breath, which forces its way at the point, and produces a hissing ; and, 
 for the latter, an utterance of voice, which forces its way in a similar manner, and 
 produces a buzzing noise. It should be remembered that the letter s is always vocal 
 when, in forming a plural, or the third person of a verb, it comes after a vocal sound. 
 The other cases in which it is vocal are frequent ; but they must be gathered from 
 practice, aided by a pronouncing dictionary. 
 
 gai' vi\2iss doi'e mar^ grieff laughj- monthi- vewe dupcy pack.y laX styX 
 
 \\CiS\.s ^s\.s ghoi"t.s" .soil rell scqwq sda^vix psz\.vi\ apj"i.y the^ii' quei'tion 
 
 tarit pin^rers flaccid j-reptre ir/^edule /i'almist /j-yche prei'ide de.fijrts 
 
 dcyign obei'e vei"bo5<? rei'rind dii-.fuade here.yy poei'y dyi'cra^y cher- 
 
 i'one.y^ vacnnate sicrity .y^rymitar .rrintillate. 
 
 When-ajaX-Jtrives-5ome-rock'jr-vaj-t-\veight-to-throw. 
 The-.fophi.ft^-shrewd-i'uggej'tion. 
 Guei'.fing-the-de.yign-was-perreived he-deiixted. 
 ^ee-the-j-nakex-that-they-rear ! 
 How-they \\\ss in-the-air ! 
 To-have-a-thousand with-red-burning-j-pitj'-come-hii'.s'ing-in-upon-them. 
 
 Thou'rt-not-thyi'elf. 
 For-thou-exii't'i't-on-many-thousand-grains 
 That-issue-out-of-dust ; happy-thou-art-not 
 For-what-thou-hajrt-not, i'till-thou-striv'.ft-to-get, 
 And-what-thou-haj-t forget'.s-t ; thou-art-not-certain 
 For-thy-complexion-shiftj' to-.ftrange-effect.y 
 After-the-moon. 
 
 mas^ blas^ a.y \vz.s \s wa.y wayi' viewj- seaj- songi" cavei" niove.f bath^- oathj 
 
 bathe5- breathei' balb domcr paini- bari- babej- plague^' commas- dramax 
 
 dancei' prices- yazts \vowsq.s scij-5-ors noixy brazen mizsen raii-in cou.s-in 
 pus^le weasel ab.yolve.y obxervcy hu.y5ar.y eXert eXist eXempt pox.yess
 
 334 /ir/NG'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 diyrrern suffir^ resume rei-ident metaphrase monarchije mechanism 
 
 sacrifir^ ^enophon ^cenocles- •dispoi'al refuj'al dii'loyal discernment 
 
 complauant complauance luXuriant an^ciety. 
 
 He-gives, as-ii--his-usage-at-this-season, a-seriesof-sermons-on-moral- 
 duties, 
 
 The-frolic-wind-that-breathes-the-spring. 
 Zephyr with-Aurora playing, 
 As-he-met-her-once a-maying, 
 There-on-bedi'-of- violets-blue, 
 And-fresh-blown-roses-washed-in-dew, 
 He-gave-her-thee. 
 
 and its correspondent vocal. 
 
 These sounds are formed by curling back the tongue, so as to leave a large space for 
 the breath or voice to pass by its sides and top. The sound we make with the breath 
 when we require silence, affords a familiar illustration of the former consonant in an 
 uncommon state : the latter is exemplified when the voice mixes with the breath ; and 
 the greater the quantity of voice, the better the consonant is sounded. The former of 
 these sounds is often preceded by the sound of t, and the latter by that of d. Where 
 this occurs in the following exercises without the proper representing mark for the t 
 or the d, the letter or letters that denote these sounds will be in capital. 
 
 Letter x, being an equivalent for k and s, is likewise subject to the rule under the 
 circumstances mentioned, and in these exercises when that letter is in capital, it 
 stands for the sounds k and sk. It should be remembered that the rule does not 
 extend to accented syllables, excepting only the words su7-e, sugar, and their com- 
 pounds. 
 
 sk, 
 
 sas/i! s//rove s//rink mzxsh sure r/^aise matr/; eaCH vouCH s//rubby 
 
 sugar censure naust'ous pens/on asni na//on cap//ous fluXIon fleXIon 
 
 ?,CMtcheor\ trunCHEon CHamberrighTEous venTure naTure assure 
 
 r/ncane ma<r/ane attaCH approaCH s//owery <r//arlatan baths//eba 
 
 luXury CHarity CHiCHester internerion farinaceous surrepti/'zbus 
 
 adventi//ous crucifixion. 
 
 The-s//ade-he-sought and-s/mnned the suns>^ine. 
 The-weak-eyed-bat 
 With-s//ort-s/;rill-s/zriek flits-by-on-leathern-wing. 
 
 Deep-echoing-groan-the- forests-brown, 
 Then-rus/Hng crackling cras//ing thunder-down. 
 
 The-string let-fly 
 Twanged-s//ort-and-s//arp like-the-s//rill-swallow's-cry. 
 
 THE CORRESPONDENT VOICE SOUND. 
 
 rasure clausure leisure roseate fus/bn treasure measure vis/on Gelid 
 
 perjure refuGE Jejune solDier granDeur verDure bad^i? ed^^ rid^^ 
 
 aGEdoGE huGE Jade Jar Gem obliGEd divulGEd exchanGEd
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 335 
 
 suGGest persuai'/on adhe5'/on explo^/on confuj/on immeDiate deci- 
 
 iv'on coUu/on- indiviDual aGGeration. 
 
 He-wants-both-leuure-and-occai-ion. 
 
 A-ro^-eate-blush with-soft-suffuj'/on 
 DivulGEd her Gentle-mind's-confuj-Zon, 
 
 f and 
 
 V. 
 
 The consonants properly denoted by these two letters are formed by pressing the 
 upper teeth upon the under lip, and using an utterance of breath for the former, and 
 of voice for the latter. 
 
 Letter b is pronounced v in of, but not in thecompounds whereof, &c. Ph are gene- 
 rally pronounced as^ but in nephew and Stephen as v, and in diphthcng, &c., as p, 
 
 /. 
 
 dea.f ruff chsfe ca//]aug/i toug/t chou^/it nymp/i sy\f>/i fry p/nase sf/i'inx 
 
 fifth p/na.\ ff/irensy pro/it dea/en rou^//en o/ten sq//en epita/>^ 
 
 //;aeton //frenetic /ebri/uge. 
 
 But-vvith-the-whi^and-\vind-of-that;/ell-swoid 
 
 The-unnerved /ather-/alls. 
 
 Mild-he-was-with-the-mild - 
 
 But-w/th-the;/ro\vard he-was^erce-as;/ire. 
 
 He^/illed-the-drau^/^t and-/reely-qua^d 
 
 And-pu^d-the;;;^agrantyume and-lau^vied. 
 
 V. 
 
 pave we2Lve \)\ve groz/i? ha/z'<? tvreXve ?.o\ve starz;,? r\ewe of rain z-'oid 
 
 raz'el groz'el heaz^en even Stephen giz'en ifiv'id z^otie^e nephew. 
 
 In-china's-groz/es o/-7^egetable-gold 
 
 Progressiz'e-z'irtue and-approz^ing-heaz'en. 
 
 And-z'ainly-z'enturous soars-on-waxen-wing. 
 
 Down-in-the-z'ale where-the-leaz'es-o/-the-groz/e waz'e-oz/er-the head. 
 
 The breath sound of th and its 
 
 correspondent vocal. 
 
 These sounds are formed by placing the tip of the tongue between the teeth, and 
 forcing the breath between for the former, and the breath made as vocal as possible 
 for the latter. 
 
 There is scarcely any fixed rule that determines when th are to have the breath and 
 when the voice sound : practice must teach the different instances ; Bath, path, lath, 
 oath, and mouth, have the breath sound in the singular, but in the plural the voice. 
 Good usage does not extend this practice beyond these words. 
 
 th, the breath sound. 
 
 hath Tpaih \ath oath mouth Width sixth length truths youths rhy//^m 
 
 thwart //;esis ]e///e thu\e hundred//^ thousandth anieZ/^yst 
 
 nia///esis apa///y or///odox logari///m.
 
 336 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 77;rList-///rough-the side. 
 
 He-sat-on-the six///-seat. 
 
 From nature's-chain whatever-link-you-strike 
 Ten/'//-or-ten-//;ousand//i breaks-the-chain-alike. 
 
 tk, the voice sound. 
 
 booth with wreaf/i ha//is pat/is \a.f/is oa///s mouMs hat/ie hrea.f/ie ixfhe 
 
 t/iese t/ieir //;ough ei///er neif/ier heaMen nor//;ern (at/ier hi/Z/er 
 
 tKxthtx inwrea///^ bequea///. 
 
 And-as-I-\vake sweet-music-brea/'//^ 
 
 Above about or-undernea//'. 
 
 And-the-milkmaid singeth-bli/Z/t? 
 
 And-the-mower-whets-his-scy///^. 
 And-the-smoo/Z: -stream in-smoo///er-numbers-flo\vs. 
 
 /, ;;/, 
 
 11, r. 
 
 The sounds proper to these letters, commonly called liquids, are all of them vocal 
 in a high degree, tlie voice being suftered to flow as freely as the several positions of 
 the organs will allow. — For /, the tongue touches tlie upper gum, and the voice passes 
 through the mouth : for ?z, the position is the same, but the voice passes through the 
 nose: for m, the lips are joined and the voice passes also through the nose : for r, the 
 voice passes tiirough the mouth, and the tongue is either made to jar against the upper 
 gum, or is curled back so as to produce a slight vibration and a hollow sound near the 
 throat ; the former being the proper formation at the beginning of words and syllables, 
 and the latter at the end. 
 
 Letters e, i, and o, before / and n, in final unaccented syllables, must frequently 
 be dropped in pionunciation ; but not when a liquid precedes, excepting only fallen, 
 when used as a verb, and stolen, swollen, used either as verbs or adjectives. Neitlier 
 should the suppression of e before / take place when any other letter precedes, as in 
 novel, parcel, model, chapel; excepting, however, the following words: navel, ravel, 
 snivel, slvivel, swivel, drivel, shovel, grovel, hazel, weasel, ouzel, 7ioiisel, and shekel. But 
 e before w, under the same circumstances, should always be suppressed, except in these 
 words : sudden, kitchen, hyphen, chicken, sloven, aspen, patten, viittens, 
 
 L 
 
 oi/ ow/ a// mar/ ear/ isle /e5.ve /oins /ive/>' /ove/y me/on so/ace cas/Z? 
 
 ax/e evil gxovcl cripp/^' ab/^ tack/^ shekt'/ tit/f need/if. 
 Nor-cast-one-/onging /ingering-/ook-behind. 
 Zet-Caro/ina-smooth-the-/iquid-/ay 
 Zu//-with-Ame/ia's-/iquid-name-the-nine 
 And-sweet/v-f/ow-through-a//-the-roya/-/ine. 
 
 m. 
 
 gum blame realm charw rhythw law^ cow/' y^omb calm hymn phlegm 
 
 drachm iamme moment mammon solemn temp>ter empty momen- 
 
 tary ;//a;;nllary ;«atri;«ony. 
 
 Pale-welancholy-sat-retired and 
 In-notes-by-distance-wade-;//ore-sweet
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 337 
 
 Poured-through-the-wellow-horn her-pensive-soul 
 Through-glades-and-gloows the-wingled-measure stole 
 and 
 
 Round-a-holy-ca/m-diffusing 
 
 Love-of-peace and-lonely-wusing 
 
 In-hollow-;/mr;«urs died-away. 
 
 n. 
 
 rmn noon noun nine stolen (aWen swollev^ harn mour;; name gnarl gnaw 
 
 /Cv/eel ^nock deign si^^n linen banner foreign lessen Haxen frozen cousin 
 
 reason deafen often roughs;; even heath^« shapi?;/ oaken wheat^« hriion 
 
 dead^« nuncupative nonentity unanimous. 
 
 To-talk-of-«onentity annihilated was-certainly nonsensical-enough. 
 
 When-lightning-and-dread-thunder 
 
 Rend-stubborn-rocks-asunder 
 
 And monarch's-die-with-wonder 
 
 What-should-we-do ? 
 
 the rouofh r. 
 
 ;-ay raw ;7/eum 7f'rap Wfy fry pray b;-ay crape grape tray dray shrill 
 shriek shroud throw throng— — raiment rampart rhubarb wrestle 
 
 ph;-enzy christian ;ural around erect enrich rebel refine regu- 
 
 lacor rumination memorandum sudorific repercussion repetition. 
 i?end with-tremendous-sound your-ears-asunder 
 With-gun-d;-um-trumpet blunderbuss-and-thunder. 
 Approach-thou like-the rugged-russian-bear 
 The-armed-;'/anoceros. 
 Blow-wind come-wrack. 
 
 Queen-Mab d;-ums-in-his-ears 
 At-which-he-starts and-wakes. 
 
 The-madding-wheels 
 Of-b;'azen-fury-raged. 
 
 the smooth r. 
 
 bar err fir nor cur hare here hire core pure hour terse force marsh 
 scarf swerve heanh pearl arm learn carp ga;'b dark cart card herd 
 
 pardon warden mercy virtue mo/'/gage co/^nel commerce defer 
 
 debar affair appear expire ado;'^ demurs. 
 Wounds-he^'-fair-ear. 
 
 Thine this-universal-frame thus-wondrous-fair. 
 Vi?tue's-fair-form. 
 What-man-da;-^ I-dar*?. 
 
 Ah-fear ah-frantic-fear 
 I-see I-see-thee-near 
 Like-thee-I-start like-thee disordered-fly.* 
 
 * As regards the different varieties of the letter R, see Dr. Kellogg's letter at the 
 end of this supplement to Lecture XIX. 
 
 Y
 
 338 KING 'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 p and b ; k and^; / and d. 
 
 Tlie consonants proper to these letters are generally called mutes ; which epithet 
 is, however, with less propriety applied to the latter of each pair than to the former. 
 In pronouncing /, k, and t, the breath, being checked and confined, is not heard till 
 the organs separate explosively to give it vent : — in pronouncing b, g, and d, the 
 voice is confined in a similar manner ; but an obscure murmur should nevertheless be 
 heard, which, in practising, the learner should endeavour to prolong, and make as 
 audible as possible. In / and b, the lips join ; in k and g, the back part of the 
 tongue meets the correspondent palate ; and in t and d^ the tip of the tongue touches 
 the upper gum. And a just utterance of any one of these consonants requires a 
 forcible and active separation of the organs in completing it. 
 
 Lk are pronounced as k after a and o. CIi are pronounced as k in words from 
 the Greek language, as sh in words from the French, and as tsh in words more 
 purely English. G is generally sounded as / before e and i, but there are many 
 exceptions. D in the termination ed when the e is silent, and the preceding sound 
 is a breath consonant, is necessarily pronounced as t ; but in reading the Scriptures 
 and the Liturgy, this omission of e should rarely take place. 
 
 p\p fiipQ popQ ras/ whel/ vam/ shar/ p'xppm sli//er proper stee/^le 
 
 topple di//;thong tri//^thong na///tha shepherd -/uritan /o/ulous 
 
 tur/itude /a/acy /abular o//;thalmy. 
 
 After-moving-equably-for-some-timeit-was-made-to-sto/ with-a-sudden- 
 sna/. 
 
 Zeal then not-charity became-the-guide 
 And-hell-was-built-on-s/ite and-heaven-on-/ride. 
 
 A-/ert-/rim-/rater of-the-northern-race 
 Guilt-in-his-heart and-famine-in-his-face. 
 
 Abuse-the-city's-best-good-men-in-metre 
 And-laugh-at-/eers that /ut-their-trust-in-/eter. 
 
 Here-files-of-/ins extend-their-shining-rows 
 ./\iffs^wders-/atches bibles-billets-doux. 
 
 cu^ ebb \.wbe bib ^ebe bzbe bnlb baxb bwoy bine accum/!' reverb im^^ue 
 
 errii^ark disi^urse ca<5al baboon ai^rogate fa<5ulous e^^ony o<^stacle bar- 
 
 /;'arous ^ar^ican. 
 
 The-i^ari^arous-Hu^ert-took-a-Zrii^e 
 To-kill-the-royal-(5'a(^^. 
 
 And-no\v-a-(^U/^^le-(^urst and-now-a-\vorld. 
 
 Earth-smiles-around with-(^oundless-<^ounty-/^lessed 
 And-heaven ^eholds-its-image-in-his-/^reast. 
 
 The-south-sea-^uMe put-the-pu(^lic-in-a-hu/'/m/^
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 339 
 
 k. 
 
 see/^ C'sJie coZ'^ pa^r-^' X.Tick &ke ta/X' iolk \o\igh ^^xque ^zxk mil/5 spar<5 -^een Car 
 
 r/i!ord ^//ay ^«a-('^ dear aape panir comi^: /kingdom (randid r/^oler 
 
 conquer ^/a'istian flaccid rollorate (rali^o ai^umber te(r/mi<ral ou/iestra. 
 
 epoc/i conqueror vaccinate si^rcity. 
 
 A-blac>5 .ra^e-of-airious-^uality. 
 
 Blow-wind, come-wrack, 
 At-least-we'U-die-with-harness-on-our-back, 
 
 With-the-rold-^ution of-a-<roward's-spleen 
 Which-fears-not-guilt but-always-seels-a-saee«. 
 
 The-c\umsy-kkchen-c\ock di^>5-clir,^ed. 
 
 hag keg egg gag plague vague teague- rogue brogue guide guise gear gird 
 gigg/iost guerdon ragged cra^g^y gibbous ^niblet ^/zastly ^Aerkin. 
 
 He-^ave-a-^z/inea and-he-^ot-a-^roat. 
 I-cannot-di^ and-am-ashamed-to-be^. 
 
 A-^iddy-^^^lin^-^irl her-kinsfolks'-plao//i? 
 Her-manners-vul^ar and-her-converse-va^;/^. 
 
 L 
 
 pa/ We dus/ haf/ hal/ dream/ flir/ /igh/ /augh/ /rash //^yme ///ames yac/il 
 
 debt laced danced? chaf^^ laughi?^ chopp^^ wreck^^ ma//er /a//er /e//er 
 
 /i//er as//^ma phf/nsis phtJa%\c flourish.?^ practis^^ /estamen/ /i/illa/e 
 
 des/i/u/e /e/rical /aci/urn /an/amoun/ /u/elar /oge/her /es/a/or inde^^/ed 
 
 indi^/ment a//ainmen/ in/es/a/e replenishi?^. 
 
 The /emp/er saw-his-/ime. 
 A-/ell-/ale-ta//ling-/ermagan/ tha/-troubled all-the-/own. 
 He-/alk^^ and-stamp^i/ and-chaf<f^ /ill-all-were-shock^^. 
 
 Shakes-the-old-beldam earth and-/opples-down 
 High-/owers and-moss-grown-s/eeples. 
 
 7b-inhabi/-a-mansion-remo/e 
 From-the-cla//er-of-s/ree/-pacing-s/eeds. 
 
 d. 
 
 bed dead did ma^e long^^ grazed hedged saved writh^^ walk^ charm(f^ 
 pav^^ hear^ ebb<?^ twigg^<^ wou/d cou/d shou/i:/ — —damaged rivak^ 
 
 modest pedant u^^er ^ea^i'ly MelYmm harang/^^^ abri^g^'^ aijudgf^' 
 
 condemn^^ impregn^^ absorbr^ fatig«^^. 
 
 Strikes-through-their-woun^e^-hearts-the-su^^en-^read. 
 He-Hcks-the-han^-just-raise^-to-she^-his-bloo^. 
 
 Ne'er-be-I-foun^by-thee-o'erawe^ 
 In-that-thrice-hallow^^-eve abroad.
 
 340 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 Meadows-trim and-^aisies-pie^ 
 Shallow-brooks and-rivers-wia'e. 
 
 An^-of-those-(/emons that are-foun^ 
 In-fire air floo^ or-un^er-groun^. 
 
 AN EXERCISE ON THE BREATH CONSONANTS. 
 
 hiss h^th S3s/i shot csip sack foot hwshed hddched /iBft shipped parks tax 
 
 speck asp sips posts supped packed coughed hatchet footpace puppet 
 
 sabbath sackbut pocket tufty sceptic cestus attic office cossacks coppice 
 
 statute excess accost except access expect assist coquette success acute 
 
 suspect pickpocket epithet execute poetess cenotaph suscitate catechist 
 
 testacy occiput epitaph specific exsiccate ecstatic auxesis acetous apostate 
 
 pdJhetic capacious facetious. 
 
 AN EXERCISE ON THE VOICE CONSONANTS. 
 
 wall dwell your gajig muse waves zeal cares age nerve bathe lo fie male rare 
 
 globe vagice ranged fnouthed walled willow rosy beauty lafiguid mazes 
 
 grandeur rather lovely moving roman bible guardia?i u?nvise beware 
 
 resume believes obliged absolve beneath farewell around debar imbue 
 
 7VOoingly idolize lingering otherwise gradual libeller dialogues eulogy 
 
 remaining delusio?i aurelia adorer deco'/u::i erosion demeanour 
 
 vermilion. 
 
 EXERCISES ON THE VOWEL SOUNDS. 
 
 The Five regular opeti Vowels under the Accent. 
 a as in f^tal or ia\.&. 
 ia\.e b^the grange paste gauge ba/t paji/ gr^;>' grfat ^ieak vmis d^/gn- 
 
 asia nation angel danger hasten ancient chamber pla/ntive n<?/ghbour 
 
 abase opaque arra/gn convey inweigh fatalist placable aviary 
 
 f(?/gnedly ha//penny bravado dictator occasion umbrageous. 
 
 e as in m^tre or in o-l^be. 
 
 o 
 
 m^ gkbe iee\. m<fan k^y gr/Vve quaj- p/que precept ixeevi\an C^sar treaty 
 
 ^/ther p^^ple concede denid'^-ne impri^^n crit/que prof/le conc«t 
 
 di?ify decency bri^viary shrzVvalty adhesion concretion serp/go xeceivei 
 
 anlceex ob^/sance apotheosis irremediable. 
 
 2 as in bz'ble or p/ne. 
 
 t/me tj'pe m/nd %ign p/nt /sle \iuy eye heighx. fl/Vs /-dyl zVland djer 
 
 ch/na v/jcount X^uyex apply ally mank'md cond/j?n def/es repl/ed 
 
 beg'z/z'le ind/Vt obl/ge sat/ety hel/acal man/acal paradis/acal 
 
 aphrodis/acal hypochondriacal. 
 
 as in n<?ble or n^te. 
 
 n^ w^ c^pe dcme r^gue dr^ve h^st gr^ss clothe r^U folk g^ld bth %\\ew %ew 
 beau oats goal foe dough glow oval sojourn n<?tion soldier mc^lten c^nly 
 
 I
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION, 34t 
 
 ywman raouXdex hauthoy prorogue depose withheld hMxeau tncioach. 
 
 papery C(?hobate pd7etry t<9wardly frt^wardly p<?«lterer. 
 
 u 
 
 as in c^^bic or c^^be. 
 
 c«be t«ne d?Ae fo/d ieod. de7u n^r<:/ hue suit view c?/bic twtor heauty 
 
 ffz^dal t«(?sday repz/te ab?/se imT^ugn reduce imbz^e pursuit late 
 
 \ewd ]ew ']uice l«cid j«ror h^minous jz<!venile. 
 
 The Five regular shut sounds, under the Accent. 
 a as in p«t. 
 
 prt:t b«d wn?p b^de h<zve shall haith pk/d pknt grant ash acrid 
 
 aloe patent tassel basket mastiff castle sample abrogate amorous 
 
 sacrament pacify raillery abandon decanter companion imagine 
 
 inhabit enamel example fantastic bombastic. 
 
 e as in p^t. 
 
 p^t b^d br^-ad sa/d says ieo^ fr/end p^fnsive b(?stial engine sp^rcial 
 
 prrface ^poch f«?tid wamscot breakfast meadow h«fer k^jpard arr<?st 
 
 am^nd forgirt aga/n aga/nst. 
 
 i as in pz't. 
 
 p/t b/d hjj'p g/ve cl/ff szWe mmim cjvgnet v/sor sj-nod W(?mm 
 
 vmeyard b?/sy b/gotry r/dicule dynasty pr/vilege s/'tuate prov/sion 
 
 capr/cious lit/gious adh/bit impl/cit. 
 
 o as in n^t. 
 
 n<?t b^nd wad was c^«gh tr(?de yacht chaps wrath gono. sh^ne mcith frath 
 
 br^th c<?st fr^st tcss mt^ss gbss hostile jocund prologue quantity 
 
 laudanum. 
 
 2/ as in ztCo. 
 
 c«b nz^ll d<?ve d(7St d^ijs d(?th fr^nt s<?n ^ne d(9ne S(?me bb<?d r^?<rgh 
 
 ch^//gh y^wng t^//ch p//ppet p;mish st?^dy C(?vert combat pommel 
 
 ^ni^n h^wsewife d^?^ble coti%va. s^/<!thern ab^ve abng am^ng en^z/gh 
 
 fulminant colander s<?vereign C(?vetous. 
 
 INCIDENTAL SOUNDS UNDER THE ACCENT. 
 
 a as in f(^ther (an open sound). 
 
 path bath ha/f ba/m psa/m sha'n't ah aunt haz/nt daz/nt cali calve g'a«nt 
 father rather a/mond jawndice. 
 
 ^ as in iaW (an open sound). 
 
 fall wall ba/k sa/t a7£'e bar^l pa?/se sawce cawght brmd gr^at ou^\. nought 
 always thraldom falcon water a;/gur nauseate.
 
 I 
 
 34a KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 o as In m^ve (open). 
 
 m^ve pr^ve bse \vh^ d(? ttf»mb X-wo ooze cool \oo hxute tr//e gr<?wp woim<\ 
 
 sh^g bser prc>ving b^som sorely ihxoughly impr£?ve recrwit \mhxue 
 
 can^^ gamboge. 
 
 ^^ as in itiW (shut). 
 
 p«ll huW iuW put puss push ruth would could sho^^/d wolf wood foot soot 
 
 hook look pz^Uey b?^lly fuller Fz^lham ruthless pulpit b?^tcher cz^hion 
 
 s//gar c?^ckoo w^man W(?lsey. 
 
 THE VOWEL SOUND DENOTED BY 01 OR OY (oPEN). 
 
 oil hroil point choice voice noise toy hoy joy troy huoy employ emhroil 
 
 app^mt Siroynt avoid aXloy decoy. 
 
 THE VOWEL SOUND DENOTED BY OU OR OW (oPEn). 
 
 loud hound noun shout thou plough hough now how hrown vow 
 
 b<?«nteous fo?^ntain thousand powder dowry astound prop^wnd with- 
 
 out endow renown. 
 
 VOWEL SOUNDS UNDER THE ACCENT FOLLOWED BY R. 
 
 I St, as followed by r and final e mule. 
 
 dare fair hear th(?re nifVr heir hi?re m^^re ch^^ d^(?r fear near hier tier 
 
 f/re hire sire lyre pyre c^noir hiiyer m<7re oar pour door floor se^cer 
 
 pure cure ewer fewer your poor hoor moor tour sure hrewer 
 
 hour SCOUT flour power sh^z^er. 
 
 2dly, as follotved by r without final e mute, afid ivithout aiiother r or a 
 vowel in the next syllable. 
 
 har star arm mart are clak h^^rt h^^rth. 
 
 e and /. 
 A medium sound between a vcifatc and u mfur. 
 
 CTr ^rst t^m irk mz'rth g/rt g/rl nyrrh earl earn earth dearth heard h^^rse 
 
 learn wae tTe machant n^vous vernal v/rgin v/rtue early learning 
 
 fearful. 
 
 0. 
 
 or for orh form gorge ch^rd war warm dwarf quart bf^rder dt^rmant 
 
 orphan warbler warden q^^arter. 
 
 u. 
 
 fur cur hum turf furl ha hifrs sir stir dirt squ/rt thzrd sh/rt sp/rt.
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 343 
 
 Tfd\y , followed by r in the same syllable and another in the next, or (jvhat 
 amounts to the same thing) a vowel in the 7iext, 
 
 tarry marry arid baron carraway charity paradise. 
 
 e. 
 
 bifrry fory pml V(?ry S(?raph st^il squ/rrel paneg^'ric. 
 
 /. 
 
 sp/rit Ijric syringe m/racle tj'ranny p_>'ramid. 
 
 0. 
 
 torrid c^ral foreign fl(?rid. 
 
 u. 
 
 \\uixy c?/rry s^rup. 
 
 THE VOWELS UNACCENTED. 
 
 I. — THE OPEN VOWELS UNACCENTED. 
 
 ist, final in a syllable. 
 
 a. 
 
 abase baboon cabal alpha villa comma china 
 
 (fject esteem become believe d/vest d/vorce d/lute effect efface dirtj 
 
 lately sundaj* journ^_v plag?/_y appetite beniffice sim/le rec/pe parl/a- 
 
 ment min/ature proph^cjK ci-vWity d/dacz't^ r/g/dity vzcinztj- v/vac/t_>' 
 
 ^pitom^ P^nelop^ g^ographjv gfom^trj'. 
 
 /dea h/atus dmrnal b?dental clzmacter g/gantic n/grescent citation 
 
 pr/meval qualify dignify occup_y multiply prophesy zrascible 
 
 itinerant b/pennated b/ography hj'pothenuse cibarious c/licious p/ratical 
 rivality. 
 
 m^tto sob salv<7 thor^^^^^ {nxXough ?,orro7ii barrow ieWow wind^^w 
 
 pn^fane romance ^bey pr<?cure advc^cate absolute crocd'dile opp<?site 
 
 syllt'gism cc^herent d(?mestic opinion ti?bacc^ (Occasion t'ffensive official. 
 
 b^^reau z^surp fwsee hz/mane stat?/e virt?/e rescue augz/ry emulate 
 
 masculine monz^ment obd//rate residue avenge. 
 
 zdly, followed by a co7isonant and final e mute. 
 dedicate obsolete appet/te telesc(?pe latit^^de.
 
 344 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XIX. 
 
 11. — THE SHUT VOWELS UNACCENTED. 
 
 husband verbal combat abjure admit baptise instantly penalty 
 
 valiantly 
 
 e. 
 
 cobweb anthem siknt complex. 
 
 /. 
 
 bev/1 pencil pup/1 urch/n lat/n marr/age carr/age village courage furnace 
 
 Wallace hhcuit conduit lettz^ce vjomen se'nn/^//t serv/le doc/le bod/ce 
 
 plaint/ve po^t lin^n helm^ housew/fe box^s mus^s prices captam wassa/1 
 
 mounta/n forfot for^z^n beautzVs pit/(fs marrzVs pit/^d marr/<?d 
 
 coward/ce benef/ce juven/le diastole counterfezt sov&xeign handkerch/Vf 
 dignit/^s falsit/>s obsequzVs noveltzVs. 
 
 0. 
 
 command conduce complete postillion combustion. 
 
 u. 
 hubbub cherz^b garnet surpl/^s mammoth parrot blossom nat/on felon 
 
 demon tendon sermon waggon mucoz/s pio//s factio?/s vacuum occipz^t 
 
 unison myrmidon covetoz^s^ decorz^m decis/on horison herbaceoz^s 
 
 umbrageo//s ambitio//s. 
 
 III. THE VOWELS UNACCENTED BEFORE K. 
 
 grammar robbi?r nad/r martjr author sulphz/r acr^. 
 Condudhig Exercise in Interjtmction. 
 
 The-ineligibility-of-the-preliminaries-is-unparalleled. 
 
 Such-individual-irregularities-are-generally-irremediable. 
 
 He-acted-contrarily-to-the-peremptory-injunctions-that-were-given, 
 
 We-alienate-many-by-requiting-a-few with-supernumerary-gratuities. 
 
 Let-the-words-of-my-mouth and-the-meditations-of-my-heart be-always- 
 acceptable-unto-thee. 
 
 Discipline-your-temper not-submitting-to-it-as-a-master but-governing- 
 it-as-a-servant. 
 
 Rising-simultaneously-at-the-irreverential-mention-of-their-leader's- 
 name they-swore-revenge. 
 
 An-inalienable-eligibility-of-election which-was-of-an-authority-that 
 could-not-be-disputedrendered-the-interposition-of-his-friends altogether- 
 supererogatory. 
 
 Note. — The characteristics of a living language are that its ortho- 
 graphy and its orthoepy are almost always slowly changing. A very 
 decided movement of late years has been made towards the improve- 
 ment and simplification of English spelling, notably by Professor Max 
 Miiller, A. J Ellis, H. Morris, A. H. Sayce, E. Jones, I. Pitman, T. 
 Pagliardini, G. Withers, and others. I3ut among the most recent 
 works are two by Dr. George Harley, F.R.S., &c., which may well be 
 consulted by those who take an interest in the subject. The first is
 
 Lect. XIX.] ON ELOCUTION. 345 
 
 entitled " The Simplification of English Spelling" (Triibner & Co., 
 Ludgate Hill), and the other, " National Spelling Reform : a Letter to 
 Lord Beaconsfield " (Hodgson h. Son, Gough Square, Fleet Street). 
 Should the suggestions in these two interesting works be carried out, 
 a modification in the pronunciation of many English words must, I 
 think, eventually take place. 
 
 In regard to the letter R, I append an interesting letter I have 
 received from an eminent physiologist of New York, Dr. Kellogg, with 
 which he has obligingly favoured me : — 
 
 "July \st, 1878. 
 
 " During a conversation we had on the physiology of the production 
 of certain sounds, you said you would make mention, in the next 
 edition of your ' Elocution,' of views I then expressed as to the letter 
 R, and I repeat them therefore in writing, hoping you will do me the 
 kindness to criticise such points as you may not think tenable. 
 
 " I recognise three distinct forms of the letter R in English, viz., the 
 lingual, the laryngeal, and the uvular R. 
 
 "The lingual R is formed by the contact and vibration of the 
 tongue at points of the upper gum and hard palate variously distant 
 from the front teeth. There is no doubt a growing tendency to give 
 more force and duration to this sound, though, as yet, it seems to me 
 that the best usage does not allow the contact to be made and broken 
 more than twice, or three times at the most, 
 
 " An interesting variety of this R is effected by the vibration of the 
 lips, which give a much finer finish to the sound than can be otherwise 
 obtained. As I have met with no mention of this in the course of my 
 reading, I venture to call it the labial R. It occurs more specially after 
 labial and explosive consonants, as/ and b^ and in such a combination 
 of letters the French often give it very distinctly, e.g., the words ' les 
 brunes, les prunes,' &c. It is rare in English, though I have observed it 
 in the word ' pretty ' and in similar relations of consonants. 
 
 " The laryngeal R, or the soft R of most writers, seems to have been 
 erroneously and conflictingly described as due to the vibration of the 
 back part of the tongue, of the soft palate, and of the uvula. It is my 
 belief that none of these parts are immediately concerned in the forma- 
 tion of this letter, but thai it is produced in the larynx solely, and by the 
 vibration of the vocal cords. I am not aware that any English autho- 
 rity has ever held any similar theory. German physiologists have, how- 
 ever, recognised this formation of the soft R in their language. My view 
 of the laryngeal R is also supported by the analogy of Slavic dialects, in 
 which this R is given simultaneously with lingual consonants, showing 
 that the tongue could not be engaged in its formation, 
 
 " The uvular R when purely formed is the result of the vibration of 
 the uvula alone, and it may resemble the lingual R so closely as to be 
 mistaken for it. When the soft palate is allowed to vibrate, the sound 
 becomes less pure and more guttural, 
 
 "The uvular R is a foreign sound, though I have met Englishmen 
 who formed it.
 
 346 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XIX. 
 
 " Frenchmen and Germans, on the other hand, not unfrequently use 
 it, and I have seen cases where it was habitually produced to the 
 entire exclusion of the lingual R ; and it seems almost impossible to 
 acquire the latter where there has been a long confirmed habit of the 
 former. 
 
 " I do not speak of the other varieties of the letter R, as I believe the 
 lingual, labial, laryngeal, and uvular formations of this latter to be the 
 only ones employed by English-speaking people. — Very faithfully yours, 
 
 "THEO. H. KELLOGG."
 
 ^M 
 
 S 
 
 ^^M 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 LECTURE XX. 
 
 Public Reading generally — /Resume of former directions in regard to Attitude, Manage- 
 ment of the Breath, &c., as applicable specially to Reading Aloud — Common 
 mistakes pointed out that should be avoided — Various kinds of Reading — How 
 Poetry should be read — Ordinary faults in reading Poetry — The monotonous and 
 the " sing-song " styles — How to be Corrected — Reading of the Bible — How it ought 
 to be read — Reading the Church Services and Prayers — Prose Readings generally 
 — Dramatic Reading — Use of Referential Gesture. 
 
 PROPOSE in this Lecture to treat on public reading gene- 
 rally, reserving public speaking for a separate subject of dis- 
 course. I assume that the pupil has made himself acquainted 
 theoretically and practically with the chief elements of the 
 art which it is my province to teach within these walls. I 
 assume that he knows what is the normal position the reader or speaker 
 should adopt for the purpose of having all the vocal and speech organs 
 best under control, and that he knows what is the right method of taking 
 breath into the lungs, thoroughly, quietly, and almost silently and imper- 
 ceptibly, l>y the nostrils and the ?iostrils only, as I have shown you all 
 how to do. At the risk of being charged with repetition, I mention 
 this, and urge it upon you once more, because the advantages are so 
 great and manifold that they can scarcely be exaggerated. Numbers of 
 clergymen who have been my pupils, and originally were liable to con- 
 stant attacks of " clerical sore-throat," cough, hoarseness, and other 
 affections of the throat and chest, have told me that they have quite 
 lost these troublesome, and sometimes dangerous, maladies ; some have 
 gone so far as to say the proper acquisition of the art of so breathing has 
 been the means of annually saving them heavy doctors' bills, and some 
 have even told me they are convinced it has been the means of saving 
 their lives. Amongst the last was one of the leading bishops, scholars, 
 and preachers of the day, as distinguished as the head-master of one of 
 our greatest pubHc schools, as he is beloved and revered by all who 
 know him personally. Eminent members of both Houses of Parlia- 
 ment, leading men at the bar, and other public speakers, have also 
 told me that the acquisition of this secret, as it once was, has been 
 of incalculable value in giving them personal ease, comfort, and self- 
 possession, all of which, of course, contribute so much to fluency of 
 speech, and general efficiency in delivery. Not only does the voice 
 become wonderfully improved in fulness and roundness of tone, but 
 the advantages which follow in a sanitary and physiological point of.
 
 348 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XX. 
 
 view are great as they are numerous. For them all in detail I refer you 
 once more to Mr. George Catlin's book, "The Breath of Life." * 
 
 So, then, I assume that you have acquired thoroughly the art of 
 managing the breath, not only as regards the act of inspiration, but 
 also that of properly controlling it in the act of expiration, when reading 
 or speaking. I assume, too, that you have become acquainted with the 
 leading principles of inflection, modulation, emphasis, and poise ; that 
 all impediments of speech or defective articulation, if any, have been 
 conquered, and that your tone is tolerably firm and pure, your articula- 
 tion distinct, and your delivery easy and fluent. Assuming, too, that 
 you have had little experience in facing public assemblies, and are 
 desirous of acquiring confidence, and becoming accustomed to the 
 sound of your own voice in a tolerably large hall, I advise you to make 
 your first essay in the art of public reading, by getting your name put 
 down as one of the readers at one of those excellent and popular enter- 
 tainments now to be found in almost every parish, in town and country, 
 called " Penny Readings." These were first established by a society 
 called "The Public Reading Society," under the auspices of the late 
 Lord Brougham as president, in the year 1858, and to which, in 
 conjunction with my lamented friend the late Mr. Serjeant Cox, I 
 had the honour of being appointed honorary secretary. I strongly 
 recommend such a course, because I am convinced the art of reading 
 well in public is the foundation of the art of speaking well in public ; 
 for it is almost needless to observe that the same expressions of emo- 
 tion, the same modulation and inflection of voice, the same use of 
 poise and emphasis are required when you express your own thoughts 
 in your own language, as are necessary when you utter the ideas of 
 another in his language. And hence it is that I consider public reading 
 to be such an excellent " stepping-stone " to public speaking. 
 
 In the first place, then, I propose giving such general instructions as 
 are applicable to all reading aloud, and then in the next place to con- 
 sider the different classes of reading a little more in detail. You will 
 bear in mind what I said respecting the position best adapted for the 
 production of purity of tone and general fluency of pronunciation. 
 Remember, whether you sit or stand to read (and I think for all public 
 reading the latter position is to be preferred), that the chest is freely 
 expanded and the arms well thrown back, so as to allow the freest 
 possible expansion of the chest, and consequent full room for the 
 thorough inflation of the lungs. Keep the head, too, erect, and avoid 
 all constriction of the larynx by bending the neck, or any kind of tight 
 collar, or other ligatures round the throat. By adopting all these 
 precautions, you will not only allow all the vocal and speech organs to 
 perform their various and important functions with the greatest possible 
 freedom and ease to themselves, but the words pronounced will be sent 
 forth both audibly and distinctly, so as to reach even those of the 
 audience that are farthest removed from you. Let me caution you 
 that, if neglecting these preliminaries, you stoop or lean forward, bending 
 over the pages of your book, you cannot possibly take a full and deep 
 * Triibner & Co., London.
 
 Lect. XX.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 349 
 
 inspiration ; you cannot produce either a pure tone, or properly inflect 
 or modulate the voice; the breath cannot be managed rightly, and 
 instead of the sound-wave of your voice being freely and properly sent 
 forth so as to reach the most distant of your audience, it will fall upon 
 the pages you are reading and be reflected back to yourself, and your 
 delivery will be more or less muffled, confused, and indistinct. To 
 illustrate the right and wrong positions for public reading, I call the 
 attention of the student in Elocution to the two figures subjoined, which 
 he will do well to bear in mind, and learn habitually to adopt the one 
 and avoid the other. 
 
 Ris'ht attitude. 
 
 Wfonp attitude. 
 
 To read easily and pleasantly to yourselves, and effectively to your 
 audience, remember that the mind must ever be in advance of the 
 tongue. How is this best to be done ? Well, then, first of all take 
 care that the book you are reading is placed at such an angle below 
 you that the eye may readily fall upon the sentence, or clause of the 
 sentence, convey its meaning to the mind, and then be read out to 
 your auditors, not keeping your eyes fixed on the page, but looking at 
 the persons to whom you are reading.
 
 356 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XX. 
 
 It is ,in this power of the eye to grasp many words or even Hnes at 
 once in a single glance that one of the secrets of effective reading chiefly 
 consists. Of course practice is required to cultivate this to perfection, 
 but you will be astonished and delighted to find how rapidly you will 
 attain proficiency in this branch of the art by culture and experience ; 
 and at last you will be enabled with a single glance to seize not merely 
 one or two liiies of the work you are reading, but the general meaning 
 of a whole sentence. 
 
 If you desire to mar the effect of the finest passages that were ever 
 written, or to render the liveUest and most inspiring passages tame, flat, 
 dull, and dead, you have but to hold the book close before your face, 
 never raise your eyes from it, and let the voice strike against the pages, 
 and be reflected back to yourself, and you will succeed thoroughly in 
 accomplishing your aim. 
 
 But there is another advantage in having the book belotv you in the 
 way I have explained, for an audience must be able to look at you, as 
 well as be regarded by you, if you would secure their attention. A 
 good reader does not merely convey to his listeners audibly and dis- 
 tinctly the sound of the words he is reading, but he does much more. 
 He makes the ideas and emotions of the author he is reading so 
 thoroughly his own, that by the judicious use of the various principles 
 of the art of Elocution, in reference to inflection, modulation, and 
 poise, he is able to convey them fully to his listeners, and awaken that 
 sympathy between them and himself of which every good and effective 
 reader is conscious at the time, but which it is so difficult to define. 
 Reading, in fact, should be made so like actual speaking, that a person 
 in an adjoining room, who could hear but not see, should be unable 
 to discriminate between them. 
 
 And now, after these general preliminary remarks, applicable, of 
 course, to all kinds of reading, I proceed next to offer such suggestions 
 as my experience enables me to present, in reference to the reading of 
 the various kinds of composition which are most usually met with ; and 
 of these I take poetry first. There are two very common but glaring 
 mistakes in reading poetry, of which it is difficult to say which is most 
 offensive to the cultivated mind and refined ear. The one is reading it 
 almost exactly like ordinary level prose, paying no attention to, and 
 wholly disregarding, time, rhythm, metre, and everything else. The other 
 is, if I may use the term, the sing-song style, such as one may perhaps 
 remember to have heard, commonly in its worst form, in our parish 
 churches or chapels, in the days when parish clerks were wont to give 
 out the first verse of the hymns that were to be sung. This style may, 
 I think, be usually traced to a habit acquired in very early life, often in 
 the very nursery, by the baby rhymes the child is taught to repeat. The 
 fact is, the child chants his earliest nursery rhymes in this sing-song fashion, 
 as he has been taught to repeat them, and is allowed to do so without 
 being corrected by others, and hence I believe the foundation is laid of 
 a habit which subsequent incompetent teachers will but too probably 
 confirm, from having had the same training, and which really to unlearn 
 will most probably require the aid of a judicious and tasteful master, and
 
 Lect. XX.] ON ELOCUTION. 351 
 
 the devotion of much time and patience on his part, as well as that of 
 the pupil. In fact, in nothing more than in reading poetry is the aid 
 required either of a good master, or of the illustration of the example 
 of an acknowledged good reader. 
 
 If the ear of the pupil be delicate and sensitive, much benefit will 
 often follow from the practice of attending readings of the poets, when 
 they are given by persons of admitted excellence and taste. However, 
 I may point out some common errors, the due avoidance of which, to- 
 gether with the attendance on really good public readings of poetry, 
 will do much to enable a student to acquire a correct and elegant style. 
 Avoid, then, that regular pause of equal duration which so many unskil- 
 ful readers are in the habit of making at the end of every line, no matter 
 whether the sense of the passage requires it or not. The observance 
 of the leading principles of inflection, modulation, and poise will also 
 do much to cure all monotonous reading of poetry. Appropriate changes 
 of time are also very important in this respect, and every feeling or 
 emotion must be duly made apparent, and as a general rule I would 
 say, do not fear — at all events at first — seeming perhaps to yourself to 
 exaggerate a little ; for in our country at least, the prevailing tendency 
 undoubtedly is to be too tame, dull, inanimate, and lifeless in reading, 
 rather than to be too full of spirit and vivacity. 
 
 Of prose readings let me take first, as immeasurably superior in im- 
 portance to all, that of the Bible. I have classed it under the head of 
 prose, though really in ideas, language, and beauty of rhythm, in our 
 noble English version of it, it might in many parts, especially the Psalms, 
 Ecclesiastes, the Books of the Prophets and Job, be ranked under the 
 head of the sublimest poetry. It has been very truly remarked that in 
 or out of churches good reading of the Bible is very rarely heard, and 
 that even persons who read other books in general comparatively well, 
 often read this, the greatest of books, most vilely. " Not one clergyman 
 in a hundred " (a recent critic remarked) " really reads a chapter correctly 
 — meaning by that term, the right expression of the sense only, as distin- 
 guished from the graces of expression. Not one in a thousand reads a 
 chapter effectively as well as correctly. So with the Prayer-Book. How 
 seldom are the services delivered as they should be — how few can give 
 to family prayer its proper reading. There must be some cause widely 
 and powerfully operating to produce so widespread and almost uni- 
 versal an effect, and that cause must be understood before a cure can be 
 recommended. Let us seek for it. It is the business of the clergy," 
 says the author from whom I am quoting, " to read, and they have 
 not learned their business if they have not studied the art of reading. 
 . . . Even if they read other things well, they fail for the most part 
 to read rightly that which it is their daily duty to read. Why is 
 this? 
 
 " I believe the foundation of the fault to be a very prevalent, but a very 
 mistaken, notion that the Bible requires to be read in a different manner 
 to other books, and this independently of, and in addition to, the 
 expression proper to the subject treated of. A tone is assumed that was 
 originally designed to be reverential, as if the reader supposed there was
 
 352 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XX. 
 
 something holy in the words themselves apart from the ideas they express. 
 This tone, consciously employed at first, and then kept somewhat under 
 control, soon comes to be used unconsciously and habitually, and rapidly 
 usurps the place of all expression, showing itself in many varieties of 
 sound, from drawl and sing-song to the nasal twang that formerly distin- 
 guished the conventicle. Few readers shake off the infection when once 
 it is acquired, because it ceases to be perceptible by themselves. The 
 voice will swell and fall at regular intervals, the reader all the while 
 supposing that he is speaking quite naturally, while he is really on the 
 verge of a chant ; yet if immediately afterwards he were asked to read a 
 narrative in a newspaper, he would do so in his own proper voice and 
 ordinary manner." 
 
 Now I am sure there is very great truth in the foregoing remarks, as T 
 think most persons also will admit. How, then, can these stereotyped 
 and traditional faults be best got rid of? Well, then, get rid, in the first 
 place, of this cofiventiofial "sanctimonious" tone. Read the Bible, in 
 fact, as you would read any other book, that is, in accordance triily with 
 all the ideas, feelings, and emotions expressed by the words ; where the 
 thoughts are grand, sublime, or reverential, let the voice and all its various 
 attributes be made to convey all such characteristics ; but where any 
 narrative passage occurs in which the incidents mentioned are purely of 
 a simple and ordinary character, read such passages as you would read 
 any narrative of similar character in any other book. 
 
 I think one very common cause of the Bible being read badly is its 
 arbitrary division into verses in our English version, so that the same 
 pause is made by the reader at the end of every verse, no matter whether 
 the sense requires it or not. Try, if possible, at once to forget that there 
 is any division into verses, and read with exactly such pauses as the 
 grammatical and rhetorical sense alone requires. Duly mark by the appro- 
 priate change in the modulation of the voice the difference between 
 narrative dialogue and speech. To all these give just the same tone, 
 inflection, and general expression that you would give to the very same 
 ideas so expressed anywhere else. " Persons who are accustomed to 
 the drone or drawl, which they imagine to be reverential, will very likely 
 object," says Mr. Serjeant Cox, in his treatise " On the Arts of Writing, 
 Reading, and Speaking," " that you read the Bible like any other book, 
 but they will soon get over this when they find how much more effec- 
 tively it is heard and remembered." 
 
 "Another set of hearers," he remarks, "who eschew the beautiful 
 and the pleasing, until they banish with them the good and the true, 
 will raise a louder outcry against the right reading of the narrative and 
 dialogue, that it is ' dramatic ' or ' theatrical,' a vague term of reproach, 
 more formidable formerly than it now is, and which you must learn to 
 despise, if you aspire to be a good reader ; because a really good actor 
 being a really good reader and something more, you cannot read well 
 unless you at least read as correctly as the good actor reads. You 
 cannot hope to conciliate this class of critics, for they will be satisfied 
 with nothing but a monotonous drawl, and will give the sneering epithet 
 to anything that escapes from their bathos ; so you may as well set
 
 Lect. XX.] ON ELOCUTION. 353 
 
 them at defiance from the beginning, and follow the dictates of your 
 own good taste, regardless of the protests of the tasteless. 
 
 " And so with the reading of prayers. Mannerism is more frequent 
 in this than even in the reading of the Bible. The groaning style is 
 the favourite one. Why, asks the author, should it be deemed neces- 
 sary to address the Divinity as if you suffered severe bodily discom- 
 fort? Yet thus do ninety-nine out of every hundred, in public or in 
 family prayer. There is a tone of profound reverence most proper to 
 be assumed in prayer, and which, indeed, if the prayer be really felt at 
 the time of utterance, it is almost impossible not to assume, but this is 
 very different from the sepulchral and stomachic sounds usually emitted." 
 
 So much, then, for the complaints of the mode in which the Bible 
 and prayers are so very frequently mis-read, as set forth by the learned 
 Serjeant, whose experience, I think, will be supported by that of many 
 others. For my own part, the best book I know on the subject of devo- 
 tional reading, is that entitled "On Reading the Liturgy," by the late 
 Rev. John Henry Howlett, M.A., formerly Chaplain at the Chapel 
 Royal, Whitehall. It is a most useful, sensibly written, and thoroughly 
 practical work. I make it my manual with all my clerical pupils, to 
 whom I strongly recommend it, moreover, as a very valuable work of 
 reference.* 
 
 I pass on now to secular reading, and I take, as the most difficult of 
 all, that which may be comprehensively termed dramatic reading. I do 
 not mean by this merely the reading of plays, but reading in the true 
 sense of the word drainaticaUy whatever is dramatic, no matter whether 
 the form of composition be that of a play or not. Do not let me here 
 be at all misunderstood. I use the term dramatically in its best and 
 loftiest sense whenever I may have occasion to employ it, for no one 
 repudiates more emphatically than I do any kind of mere theatrical 
 exaggeration, or what is conventionally called stageyness. I may here 
 most advantageously borrow from Mr. Serjeant Cox's recent work again. 
 "There is scarcely any kind of composition that does not contain," he 
 says, "something dramatic, for there are few writings so dull as to 
 be unenlivened by an anecdote, an episode or apologue, a simile or an 
 illustration, and these are for the most part more or less dramatic. 
 Wherever there is dialogue there is drama, no matter what the subject 
 of the discourse, whether it be grave or gay, or its object be to teach or 
 only amuse, if it assume to speak through any agency other than the 
 writer in his own proper person, there is drama. As in nmsic, we have 
 heard Mendelssohn's exquisite ' songs without words,' wherein the airs 
 by their own expressiveness suggest the thoughts and feelings which the 
 poet would have embodied in choicest language, and desired to marry 
 to such music, so in literature there is to be found drama without the 
 ostensible shape of drama ; as in a narrative whose incidents are so 
 graphically described that we see in the mind's eye the actions of all 
 the characters, and from those actions learn the words they must have 
 spoken when so acting and feeling. Moreover, drama belongs exclu- 
 
 * Hewlett, "On Reading the Lituig)'." Price 5s. T. Muiby, 32 Bouverie 
 Street, Fleet Street. 
 
 Z
 
 354 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XX. 
 
 sively to humanity. It attaches to the qnicqtnd agiint Jiomhies. It is 
 difficult to conceive, and ahnost impossible to describe, any doings of 
 men that are not dramatic. All the external world might be accurately 
 painted in words, without a particle of drama, though with plenty of 
 poetry, but certainly two human beings cannot be brought into com- 
 munication without a drama being enacted. Their intercourse could 
 only be described dramatically, and that which is so described requires to 
 be read dramatically. Of this art the foundation is an accurate concep- 
 tion of the various characters, the perfection of the art is to express 
 their characteristics truly, each one as such a person would have spoken, 
 had he really existed at such a time, and in such circumstances. The 
 dramatist and the novelist conceive certain ideal personages ; they place 
 them in certain imaginary conditions ; then they are enabled by a 
 mental process which is not an act of reasoning, but a special faculty, 
 to throw their own minds into the state that would be the condition of 
 such persons so situated, and forthwith there arises within them the 
 train of feelings and thoughts natural to that situation. It is difficult 
 to describe this mental process clearly in unscientific language, but it 
 will be at once admitted that something very like it must take place 
 before Genius sitting in a lonely room could give probable speech and 
 emotion to creatures of the imagination. That is the dramatic art of 
 the author, and because it is so difficult and rare, it is perhaps the most 
 highly esteemed of all the accomplishments of authorship. For the 
 right reading of dialogue very nearly the same process is required. 
 You must in the first place distinctly comprehend the characters sup- 
 posed to be speaking in the drama. You must have in your mind's eye 
 a vivid picture of them as suggested by the author's sketch in outline. 
 Next you must thoroughly understand the full meaning of the words 
 the author has put into their mouths — that is to say, what thoughts 
 those words were designed to express. As the great author having 
 conceived a character and invented situations for it, by force of his 
 genius makes him act and talk precisely as such a person would have 
 acted and talked in real life ; so the great actor, mastering the author's 
 design, rightly and clearly comprehending the character he assumes, 
 and learnmg the words that character is supposed to speak, is enabled 
 to give to those words the correct expression, not as the result of a 
 process of reasoning, but instinctively, by throwing his mind into the 
 position of the characters he is personating. So does the good reader 
 become for the time the personages of whom he is reading, and utters 
 their thoughts as themselves would have uttered them. In a word, a 
 good reader of such composition must be an actor without the action.''^ 
 
 I think to a certain extent the last line quoted from the learned 
 Serjeant's work may be a little modified. In most dramatic reading 
 there occurs fitting opportunity for the introduction of referential ges- 
 ture, as it is termed. For instance, in reading the well-known poem of 
 " The Execution of Montrose," there occurs a passage where the great 
 !Marquis swears — 
 
 " By tliat bright St. Andrew's cross 
 That floats above us tlure / " . ... 
 
 I
 
 Lect. XX.] OiV ELOCUTION. 355 
 
 Now if in reading this in public neither the hand nor eye of the reader 
 should be raised, I think a very useful adjunct in giving effect to the 
 hero's invocation to St. Andrew's banner would be missed. In almost 
 all dramatic reading continual opportunity occurs, where what is called 
 referential or descriptive gesture may judiciously be introduced. But, of 
 course, good taste and judgment are to be consulted here, and the 
 amount of action that would be quite fit and appropriate to the actor's 
 part when performed on the stage would, in my opinion, be unbecoming 
 the position of the public reader on the platform. 
 
 I think nothing more tends to free a person from monotony, tame- 
 ness, or mannerism than the practice of studying and afterwards read- 
 ing aloud dialogue or dramatic selections, especially where the characters 
 are strongly contrasted and each marked by its own particular individu- 
 ality. The best test of a reader's having successfully studied the art of 
 dramatic reading, is that the audience should know perfectly well what 
 character he is representing without there being any necessity for his 
 prefixing the name of the character each time he has to utter the words 
 put by the author into the mouths of the various drainatis personce. In 
 public reading, and more especially in what are called " Penny Read- 
 ings," where your audiences, as regards the majority, at any rate, are not 
 very highly educated, refined, or critical, experience has shown that in 
 order to secure the attention of the hearers, the selections read must vary 
 in character ; the grave must be followed by the gay, and wit and humour 
 must alternate with sentiment and pathos. As a general rule the earlier 
 portion of the evening should be devoted to the graver selections, and 
 the latter part to those which partake more of the gay and humorous 
 elements. 
 
 Note. — I have frequently been asked, since the last edition of these 
 Lectures was published, to recommend books containing good selections 
 of extracts in prose and poetry that were well adapted for being read or 
 recited before popular assemblies. I may, therefore, be allowed to men- 
 tion, as excellent compilations for this purpose, the following, viz. : — 
 "The Public School Reader and Reciter," by J. E. Carpenter (Warne 
 & Co., Bedford Street, Covent Garden ; price 3s. 6d.); "Penny Read- 
 ings," by J. E. Carpenter (10 vols, at is. each. Warne &Co., London) ; 
 "Original Penny Readings," by Litchfield Mosely (Warne & Co., 
 London); "Original Penny Readings," by G. Manville Fenn (Rout- 
 ledge & Co., The Broadway, Ludgate Hill); "Christmas Penny Read- 
 ings," by G. Manville Fenn (Routledge & Co.) ; " Bell's Modern Speaker 
 and Reader" (Simpkin and Marshall, Paternoster Row); "M'Dowell's 
 Rhetorical Readings " (Simpkin and Marshall) ; " Frobisher's Selection 
 of Readings '' (an American work). 
 
 In his preface to " The Revelations of Peter Brown, Poet and Peri- 
 patetic, found in his Black Box,"* an excellent book, full of original com- 
 positions (well suited for public reading), by John Francis Waller, LL.D., 
 Dr. Waller writes thus : — " Some of these pieces have been selected for 
 public reading by the Rev. Charles Tisdall, D.D., and by Mr. Bellew, 
 and I am very certain that the great favour with which they have been 
 * Published by Cassell, Petter, and Galpin, London.
 
 356 
 
 AYiVG'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XX 
 
 received is largely due to the ability of these accomplished gentlemen, 
 whom I now heartily thank. Of Mr. Bellew, admittedly the finest reader 
 of our times, it would be almost impertinence to speak, yet I cannot 
 refrain from expressing my admiration of the power and pathos with 
 which he rendered 'Isabel Clare.' Dr. TisdalFs recitation of 'Magdalena' 
 was the performance of a master. With a voice of rare compass and 
 variety of intonation, with great dramatic power and thorough apprecia- 
 tion of every sentiment, he was alike happy in humour, tenderness, 
 sprightliness, and vigour. A very general inquiry for these pieces 
 emboldens me to republish them."' 
 
 -vcg-><^
 
 LECTURE XXI. 
 
 Public Speaking — Principal requisites of Extempore Speaking — The Art of Composi- 
 tion — Arrangement of Thoughts and Language — Process of Analysis — Attention 
 and Association — Dangers of delivering written Speeches inenioriter — Suggestions 
 in reference to the Art of Extempore Speaking — The Exordium, or introduction of 
 a Speecla — The principal Subject-matter of a Speech — Varieties of mode of treat- 
 ment — Purity of language — Perspicuity — The Peroration, or conclusion of a Speech 
 — The time when to close a Speech, and how best to end it. 
 
 HAVE now to call j'our attention to the subject of public 
 speaking, to which public reading serves as an excellent 
 introduction ; and all that I have said already in previous 
 Lectures as applicable to the latter, bears with equal pro- 
 priety on the former. But there is much more to be con- 
 sidered. La public reading we have the thoughts and language already 
 provided for us, whether they be our own, or the composition of another ; 
 but in public, or extempore, speaking, the thoughts of our own minds are 
 expected to be given, and we have to clothe those thoughts in our own 
 language. To be furnished with appropriate ideas on the subject about 
 to be discussed, to express those ideas aloud in perspicuous phrase- 
 ology, and to deliver it with ease, freedom, and self-possession on your 
 part, and with the result of producing the effect desired on your audience, 
 are the grand requisites of all public speaking. To enlarge upon the 
 advantages of acquiring an art so important as this in a country enjoy- 
 ing such freedom of speech as our own, would be quite superfluous. 
 As the Arclibishop of York said at the annual meeting of the King's 
 College Evening Classes, when his Grace presided at the distribution of 
 the prizes to the students : — 
 
 "In this country, and in this age, almost every great religious, poli- 
 tical, and social movement was effected by the agency of public speak- 
 ing, and the advantages of being well versed in this art, as well as in 
 that of public reading, were becoming every day more apparent." 
 
 Now the first requisite on the part of any one aiming to be a public 
 speaker is, that he should have certain definite ideas on a given topic, 
 and have them aptly and logically arranged. No man can speak well, 
 unless he knows well what are his thougJits on the subject; in a word, 
 what it is he wishes to say. To those who are entire novices in this 
 branch of our subject, I would recommend, as a very good mode of
 
 358 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXI. 
 
 training the mind in the development of thought and the arrangement 
 of ideas, to take, at first, any question of importance in which the student 
 feels a special interest, and think well and calmly over it. Let him 
 then take his pen in his hand, and endeavour to express his particular 
 views in clear and appropriate language, and state at length the various 
 facts and reasons which have induced him to come to the conclusion 
 he has arrived at, and also endeavour to answer or anticipate the 
 different objections which may be raised in opposition to his views. 
 Finally, let him summarise all his conclusions, and urge in their favour 
 all that will commend them, not only to the intellect and judgment, but 
 to the feelings and emotions of those who are interested in the subject. 
 I can assure the student that he will find exercises of this character at 
 first most useful, for they will teach him to thi?ik and to compose, and he 
 will soon be surprised to find how one idea will seem spontaneously to 
 suggest another, and how thought will become linked with thought. 
 Writing on a subject is one of the hestfoioidatioiis for speaking upon it, 
 and I advise you to cultivate the practice sedulously at first, for it is 
 the only test by which you can distinguish between real thoughts and 
 mere vague, formless, and aimless fancies. My next suggestion would 
 be for you to make a careful analysis of your written speech, putting 
 down on a separate sheet of paper the leading topics, and where the 
 nature of the speech permits your doing so, group these various topics 
 under particular heads. As you do so, reflect alike on the nature of 
 the connection which in your mind leads you on from one head of your 
 discourse to another, as well as on the mental links which group one 
 topic with another under each of the heads into which you have divided 
 your speech. In a word, cultivate and develop to the utmost that 
 which is the leading principle of all systems of mnemonics, viz., the 
 law that governs the association of ideas in the human mind. The 
 great majority of us forget half of what we see, hear, and read from 
 neglecting to cultivate attention and associatio?t. 
 
 There are several useful works on the modes by which the association 
 of ideas may be best developed and exercised, but I have met with 
 some lately that contain really very useful suggestions, the works on 
 memory, by Dr. Edward Pick,* who delivered an extremely interesting 
 course of lectures on the subject in this College not long since, and the 
 books recently written by Mr. Stokes of the Polytechnic Institution. t 
 Now, then, having your page of head-notes before you, give your 
 written speech, if you can, to a friend, and get him to act as your 
 audience, while you deliver your discourse as you would in public. Let 
 him occasionally glance at your written composition, that he may see 
 that no topic or argument of any importance is omitted to be introduced 
 by you in the proper place ; and if you are failing to do so, let him just 
 mention, in a few words, the leading thought that you had passed over, 
 and do you then, in your own language, supply the omission. Remember, 
 I deprecate strongly the habit of writing a speech,, and then delivering 
 it exactly as written. A very striking passage or impressive peroration 
 
 * Published by Trubner & Co., Ludgate Hill. 
 
 + Published by Iloulstou (S: Sons, Paternoster Buildings.
 
 Lect. XXL] ON ELOCUTION. 359- 
 
 may perliaps, occasionally, be written and then committed to memory, 
 and be spoken with effect. 
 
 Some of our most eminent orators have not scrupled to avow they 
 have, on great and special occasions, resorted to this method, and I believe 
 the late Lord Brougham stated that he wrote and rewrote the famous 
 peroration to his speech in defence of Queen Caroline half-a-dozen times 
 before he was satisfied with it himself. But still these are exceptions to 
 the rule I should be disposed to lay down for your guidance. A written 
 speech delivered in extenso et viemoriter, is, I think, a dangerous mistake, 
 for a temporary loss of words from failure of recollection will often so 
 completely cause a man, unused to face public assemblies, to lose all 
 self-possession and confidence, that he will be unable to recover himself, 
 or recall a single passage afterwards. I remember once witnessing a 
 most painful scene of this description at a great religious meeting in 
 Exeter Hall. A young and noble earl had risen to propose an import- 
 ant resolution. He began, and went on for ten minutes or so, with 
 wonderful fluency and ease. I beUeve he had never spoken in any 
 public assembly before, and at first all around me were evidently struck 
 with admiration. His lordship's words were well chosen, and his long 
 and polished sentences beautifully constructed. Alas ! too much so, 
 for it was almost evident at once, to any one who had given his attention 
 to these matters, that it was a very able and carefully written speech 
 that the orator had learned off by heart, and was delivering simply memo- 
 riter. But after the youthful lord had spoken for about ten minutes, 
 there was to one of his statements of alleged facts some demur, and loud 
 cries of " No, no \ " burst forth from one corner of the hall, A slight 
 disturbance ensued, which, was, however, speedily quelled. But slight 
 as the disturbance was, it had had its effect. The thread of the noble 
 speaker's discourse had been suddenly and rudely snapped asunder, 
 and he could not recover it. His self-possession was completely gone. 
 He hesitated and stammered for a minute or two in the endeavour to 
 recall the words of his sneech ; but it was all in vain, and he was obliged 
 to resume his seat in a state of confusion and discomfiture, which must 
 have been most painful to himself and nearly as much so to his audience. 
 No, I say emphatically, do not trust to the tenacity of your memory for 
 retaining the words of a previously well-prepared or carefully-written 
 speech. 
 
 My advice, therefore, would be briefly as follows : — Choose some 
 fitting occasion, when a question is to be discussed at a public meeting 
 in which you feel an interest. Turn the subject well over in your mind, 
 and view it under all the various aspects in which it may be regarded, 
 and then choose that which seems best adapted to your mode of treat- 
 ment. Arrange your ideas after you have well considered the subject, 
 as far as you can, in a clear and logical order, and more especially let 
 your arguments be duly-linked together, so that the conclusions to which 
 they lead may seem to follow as a necessary consequence, and so make 
 a strong impression on the audience you are about to address. This 
 mental arrangement of ideas then commit in outline to paper — but do 
 not write down more. Content yourself with a clear and simple outline
 
 36o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXI. 
 
 of the subjects and the mode in which you propose they shall be treated. 
 Endeavour to fix your thoughts firmly in your mind, and remember how 
 much their proper sequence may be aided by carrying out the principle 
 of the association of ideas as the most powerful of all the aids to memory. 
 When you have thoughts, that is, really something to say, it will not be 
 long, even if your earliest attempts are comparative failures, before you 
 will find the facility of clothing those thoughts in language becomes with 
 every succeeding effort greater and greater. No doubt it is a moment 
 calculated to make any man feel nervous and embarrassed when he is 
 called upon for the first time to address an audience in public. But if 
 you will bear in mind the importance of occupying the first few moments 
 after you have risen on your legs, in placing yourself in the best and 
 easiest position for speaking ; then of calmly, deliberately, and thoroughly 
 filling your lungs, and quietly survey your audience before you begin, 
 you will be astonished to find how much these mere physical adjuncts 
 will assist in giving mental composure and self-possession. 
 
 I would always advise a novice in the art to begin by speaking slowly 
 and deliberately. As he goes on constructing his sentences, let him 
 divide them as much as possible into their proper clauses, between each 
 clause take just such a quiet, easy, imperceptible inspiration as will 
 sufficiently replenish the lungs, and in the pauses between such clauses 
 endeavour to clothe the next ideas in fitting words, and so train the 
 mind to be ever in advance of the tongue. Some of the very best 
 extempore speakers I have ever listened to always begin their addresses 
 very slowly and deliberately — so much so, indeed, that it might be said 
 to be actual hesitation which characterises their opening remarks. But 
 even this is scarcely of an unpleasing effect if the hesitation is between 
 sentences or clauses, and not between the 7vords which compose them. 
 Such speakers, as they enter more fully into their subject, and warm to 
 their work, become every moment more fluent, fervid, and impas- 
 sioned; and this, too, you will find by practice will be the experience 
 of yourselves. Calmness and deliberation at first will, in general, ensure 
 increasing fluency of ideas and language as you proceed with your 
 address. It is well remarked in a very rare and curious old book 
 (p. 123), entitled "The Art of Speaking," translated from the French 
 work on the subject by the Messieurs du Port Royal, and published in 
 London in the year 1676, that "there is a rhetoric in the eye, the lips, 
 and the general motion of the whole body that impresses and persuades 
 as much as arguments. . . . We judge of an orator by our eyes as well 
 as our ears. Every passion has its peculiar tone, its peculiar gesture, 
 its peculiar mien, and as these are pleasing, powerful, and expressive, 
 or the reverse, so do they make a good or bad orator." 
 
 A regular address or speech is a work of art, and ought to be con- 
 structed artistically ; but still the motto " ars celare artem " must be 
 borne in mind. Though the construction be artificial, it must yet seem 
 to be spontaneous and natural in its arrangement, from the introductory 
 remarks or exordium to its close or peroration. By most speakers the 
 beginning of a speech is considered to be perhaps its most difficult part, 
 and this got over at all in a satisfactory manner, they feel themselves
 
 Lect. XXL] ON ELOCUTION. 361 
 
 more at ease, and tolerably sure to be able to go on to a conclusion 
 without fear of breaking down. A good introduction to a speech is not 
 unfrequently " half the battle," and realises the truth of the old French 
 proverb, "r^ n'cst que le premier pas qui coiitey In general I may say 
 the prefatory remarks of a speaker should be designed to awaken the 
 attention of an audience, to conciliate their good-will, and elicit their 
 interest in the subject you are about to discuss. A certain air of defer- 
 ence to the audience whom you are about to address is by no means an 
 unimportant element, especially with a young speaker, in securing their 
 attention and sympathy. It is, in fact, the delicate but silent species of 
 flattery to which public audiences readily yield themselves, and which, I 
 have often noticed, contributes not a little to the good-will and attention 
 shown to an untried or inexperienced speaker. 
 
 You may then proceed to show how much there is in the question 
 to awaken the interest of your hearers, and how much you yourself feel 
 its importance ; and if there are any particular personal or local reasons 
 which qualify you to form an opinion and express your views on the 
 subject, they may be very properly mentioned or alluded to in your 
 introductory remarks. The ground thus cleared, you are now prepared 
 to enter upon the subject itself. Of course, every subject demands its 
 own mode of treatment, and much, too, depends on the particular stand- 
 point whence the speaker views it. But generally, I may say, endeavour 
 to have in your own mind a clear and definite conclusion to which you 
 desire also to bring the minds of your audience ; and mentally arrange, 
 and at first commit to paper, the head-notes of the chain of arguments 
 or reasons by which you propose arriving at such conclusions. Though 
 your chain of reasoning ought to be strictly logical, yet to a miscellaneous 
 popular audience I should not recommend that the Xogxc'A formula be 
 made too obtrusive. Your aim in almost all public addresses is to 
 persuade or convince. A mere dry, formal argument alone, however 
 sound or logical, seldom affords entire satisfaction to a popular 
 assembly. 
 
 A speech requires variety in its progress, and, as far as the nature of 
 the subject will permit, statement should be intermingled with argument, 
 humour with gravity, pathos with gaiety, anecdote and illustration with 
 wit and eloquence. If any scene is described to your audience, en- 
 deavour to form a vivid mental picture of it, and as you see it in your 
 " mind's eye " so narrate it with appropriate action to your audience, 
 especially remembering the service which referential gesture, as it is 
 termed, lends upon all such occasions. Of course the introduction of 
 invective, sarcasm, passionate appeal, rhetorical figures and metaphors, 
 must depend much on the nature of the subject, the character of the 
 audience, and the individual temperament of the speaker. Great caution 
 should be exercised in their employment, for if inappropriate they only 
 serve to make a speaker ridiculous. Eschew, too, all that multiplication 
 of sounding epithets, useless synonyms, strings of adjectives and adverbs 
 and many-syllabled nouns, which " our American cousins " sum up in 
 the phrase, " tall talking.^' Cultivate as much as possible purity 
 and simplicity of language, which will be found to be really the most
 
 362 A'lA^G'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XXI. 
 
 beautiful as well as the most effective in attaining the result aimed at ; 
 and as a general rule, for your own sake and also that of your hearers, 
 avoid all long, cumbrous, and involved sentences. Perspicuity is one 
 of the greatest charms of a speech. The meaning of the speaker should 
 be as visible to the audience whom he is addressing, as the landscape 
 without is apparent through the clear polished glass of the window to 
 the spectator who is viewing it from within ; and everything in a public 
 address, if it is desired to be effective, should be sacrificed rather than 
 perspicuity. 
 
 The peroration, or closing words of a speech, ought, if possible, 
 always to be its most powerful and impressive part. Many of our best 
 orators in the Pulpit, the Senate, and at the Bar, have not scrupled to 
 leave on record that they have written and rewritten the perorations 
 to their most celebrated or most important speeches, until they had as 
 far as possible satisfied their minds with them, and then as diligently 
 and carefully committed them to memory, as a great actor would who 
 was desirous of making a powerful impression in the chief character 
 of some tragedy. In fact, such memorable perorations (the late Lord 
 Brougham's, for instance, in his famous speech on behalf of Queen 
 Caroline) have been acted. If there is any part of a regular set speech 
 that it is desirable to write out, it is certainly this ; and high authority, 
 moreover, sanctions the practice on great occasions. The peroration 
 (to use a homely metaphor) should be the driving to the hilt of the 
 various weapons you have used in the course of your career. It should 
 not be merely a general summary of the argument, but the directing 
 it, sending it home to the minds and hearts of your audience by vivid 
 language and, when fitting, impassioned appeals to the sentiments, 
 feelings, and emotions of your hearers, so as in the most powerful 
 manner to persuade or convince them of the truth or importance of the 
 conclusions to which you have arrived. As soon as this end seems to 
 you to be attained — and to judge of the time rightly is a most valuable 
 gift — close your speech and sit down. To know when the time for the 
 peroration has arrived, and when to end it and sit down, contributes in 
 no small degree to a speaker's success. 
 
 1
 
 LECTURE XXII. 
 
 The subject of Public Speaking and Reading considered in detail, and in reference 
 especially to the various Professions where it is more particularly required— The 
 Clergyman — The Clmrch Services — The Art of Preaching — Construction of a 
 Sermon — Thoughts — Sources of Information — Four principal modes of Sermon 
 Construction — The Narrative — The Textual — The Logical — The Divisional — The 
 Delivery of a Sermon — Delivery as important in its Immediate Effects as Com- 
 position — Styles of Preaching in other Countries — Suggestions in reference to the 
 Delivery of Sermons — Proper use of Gesture in the Pulpit. 
 
 AVING now briefly treated of the art of making public 
 
 addresses in general, I propose in these, my concluding 
 Lectures of our introductory course, viewing the subject more 
 in detail, and inquiring a little into the various requisites 
 Avhich are most demanded and called into action in pro- 
 fessional and public life. As first in importance to his fellow-creatures, 
 I take the ministerial public duties of the clergyman. 
 
 In all that relates to the proper reading of the Liturgy and other 
 Services of the Church of England, I know no better work, none in 
 fact more practically useful in every way to the young clergyman or 
 theological student, than the last and enlarged edition of that entitled 
 " Instruction in Reading the Liturgy," by the late Rev. John Henry 
 Howlett, formerly Chaplain of Her Majesty's Chapel, Whitehall, of 
 which I have already made mention in my previous Lecture. I heartily 
 commend the whole work to the careful attention of all persons who 
 appreciate the innate beauty of our Church Services, and are desirous 
 that that beauty should be made apparent to others, but more especially 
 do I commend it to young clergymen and candidates for Holy Orders. 
 I had the advantage of enjoying the friendship of the late Mr. 
 Howlett for many years, and derived many valuable hints in my vocation 
 from his suggestions and experience. There is so much practical good 
 sense in his introductory remarks, and he points out so ably the 
 principal faults in the manner of reading our Liturgy, and the reason 
 why such faults should be avoided and corrected, that I am sure I am 
 doing a service to many persons in giving the substance of Mr. Hewlett's 
 observations. In effect he says : — 
 
 " The members of the Church of England justly boast of their Liturgy, 
 and affirm that no Service has a greater tendency to answer the purposes 
 of Public Worship. It is, however, certain that this tendency is very 
 much strengthened by means of a good delivery. But that our admir-
 
 364 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 able Ritual is not thus enforced so frequently as it ought to be, is a com- 
 plaint which has been long heard even among the sincere and zealous 
 friends of the Established Church, and which has now been brought 
 prominently into public notice. It may therefore be useful, especially 
 to the candidates for the sacred office, to enumerate the faults which 
 most commonly prevail, to mention the causes to which those defects 
 may be reasonably ascribed, and to suggest some means of removing 
 them. The student, thus instructed, may be induced to pay more atten- 
 tion to the proper manner of officiating ; so that he may individually 
 vindicate the profession from reproach, and, through the Divine blessing, 
 may, by his ministering, powerfully support the cause of true religion. 
 
 " But here an objection will be urged by the advocates for ititoning 
 the Service. They contend that the word ' say,' used in the Rubric, 
 means 'intone.' They also state that a large portion of the Service is 
 devotional, and that a plaintive monotone is best suited for expressing 
 prayer. Undoubtedly a mournful modulation is very agreeable to many 
 auditors ; still, a constant monotony is apt to become wearisome and 
 soporific ; and when accompanied, as it very frequently is, by a rapid, 
 indistinct utterance, the reader is unintelligible to the distant portion of 
 the congregation. But though much of the Service is devotional, /.<?., 
 expressing prayer to the Supreme Being, yet many other parts are of a 
 different character. First come the Introductory Sentejices, which are 
 mostly declaratory, and, according to the Rubric, are to be 'read in a loud 
 voice.' The Exhortation is to be 'said,' but the character of it is such 
 as .to be much less suited to mournful monotone than to plain reading, 
 varied according to the sense, or rather to an extemporaneous way of 
 speaking. In the General Confessio7i, the Lord^s Prayer, and the Creeds 
 — those parts of the Services in which the congregation is directed to 
 accompany or follow the Minister, it is better for both parties to pro- 
 nounce in unison, so as to avoid that confused and discordant gabble 
 which is frequently heard. The Absolution is to be 'pronounced.' The 
 nature of the subject seems to require, not melancholy intoning, but a 
 solemn, dignified delivery. The practice of reading, instead of chant- 
 ing the Psalter, has been adopted in many Churches during the last two 
 hundred years, probably under the authority of the ' Order ' inserted in 
 the ' Preface to the Prayer-Book.' That ' Order ' seems to have been 
 intended for the direction of ' places where they (do not) sing.' The 
 ' people ' hurry and gabble through the alternate verses, allotted to them 
 by custom, and the effect is neither solemn nor devotional. In some 
 Churches, however, the congregation agree to I'ead in a measured and 
 simultaneous manner. All admit that the Lessons, Epistles, and Gospels 
 are directed to be ' read with an audible voice.' The Ten Command- 
 nients are to be ' rehearsed.' This must surely mean a dignified, authori- 
 tative style of reading, rather than melancholy intoning. But as the 
 Prayers and Collects are to be ' said by the Minister alone,' certainly 
 that mode of delivery will be best which makes the deepest impression 
 on the understanding and hearts of the hearers. Least of all is there 
 any sufficient reason for 'intoning' the Grace, or the Lord's Prayer 
 before the Sermon, or the coiicluding Blessing.
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 365 
 
 " As it much easier to intone the Service tolerably than to read it 
 tolerably, many young clergymen attempt to intone. The result fre- 
 quently is a great deal of harsh, dissonant sound, very annoying to those 
 among the congregation who are gifted with musical ears. It should be 
 remembered that hitomng is an accomplishment which, like reading, is 
 not generally to be acquired without instruction and practice. 
 
 "Another objection requires to be noticed. It is asserted by some 
 persons that to read the Prayers of the Liturgy in the manner best cal- 
 culated to convey the meaning and keep up the attention qf the con- 
 gregation, is preacliing the Prayers. They say that the Minister is the 
 mouthpiece of the congregation, and that the mere utterance of the words 
 is sufficient, because Almighty God does not need to have their meaning 
 enforced by the variety of manner and intonation which is adopted 
 when a petition is addressed to a fellow-mortal. This is true, but it is 
 equally true that unless the congregation accompany the Minister's 
 words with their hearts and minds, they do not render acceptable ser- 
 vice. It is universally admitted that the constant repetition of the same 
 form of words naturally produces inattention in the hearers. This will 
 be increased by a monotonous, unmeaning delivery ; whilst, on the 
 contrary, a significant manner, varying according to the sentiment, is 
 found to rouse the drowsy hearer, and to excite him to real and fervent 
 devotion. 
 
 "These remarks may suffice to obviate some objections which may 
 be urged against the present work. In proceeding to enumerate some 
 of the causes which produce an inefficient manner of performing the 
 Church Service, may first be mentioned the incorrect notion which many 
 clergymen entertain on the subject of public reading. They conceive 
 that as everybody can read, it is not necessary to take previous care to 
 qualify themselves for the effective discharge of this part of their official 
 duties. They themselves may perfectly understand what they read ; 
 but they are little aware that to make the congregation, especially if 
 it is numerous, hear and understand, is a task of considerable diffi- 
 culty. Distinct and impressive reading is an accomplishment not 
 usually attained without submitting to the methods by which superiority 
 is commonly acquired in any of the arts and sciences. It is true, 
 indeed, that some persons are better gifted than others for acquiring 
 excellence ; and with regard to reading, some naturally possess so much 
 ease of utterance, so musical a voice, so correct an ear, that it seems as 
 if they could not avoid reading well. But, allowing a few exceptions, it 
 is certain that, in general, instruction, study, and practice are requisite 
 for the acquisition of a discriminating and impressive delivery. It is 
 likewise important to be remembered that this acquirement can gene- 
 rally be attained only in the early part of life, when the ear is quick in 
 perceiving, and the voice is capable of adopting, any suggested variation 
 of tone. 
 
 " 2. — A second erroneous opinion frequently prevails, that seriousness 
 and piety are alone wanted , and that if a clergyman is earnest in the 
 discharge of his duty, he cannot fail being an impressive reader of the 
 Church Service. A serious and solemn manner is certainly indispens-
 
 366 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 able, but when it is applied \Yith little meaning and with no variation of 
 manner to a Service so varied in its subjects, the congregation may be 
 fully convinced of the piety of the Minister, but the monotonous solem- 
 nity of voice will inevitably prevent emotion and produce drowsiness. 
 And even if this heaviness of manner be avoided, still it sometimes 
 happens that either through defect of early instruction, or entire inatten- 
 tion to the subject, a clergyman, though possessing undoubted piety and 
 considerable talents, may have acquired, in his mode of reading the 
 Service, such a peculiarity as not unfrequently causes painful regret in 
 the minds of the serious and devout hearers. 
 
 " 3. — The fear of being thought affected or theatrical must be men- 
 tioned as a third cause which tends to produce inefficient readers. But 
 though everything that savours of affectation is highly disgusting, still 
 the dull and feeble, or the hurried and irreverent, manner is not less 
 injurious in its effects on the congregation. If in the one case they are 
 displeased with the Minister, in the other they become wearied with the 
 Service. 
 
 "4. — A fourth cause why an indifferent manner of reading is preva- 
 lent in the Church may be found in the difficulty of retaining a good 
 manner. To repeat the same words over and over again without insen- 
 sibly falling into some improprieties, without acquiring peculiar tones 
 and inflections, which either convey no meaning at all, or a wrong mean- 
 ing, requires constant and close attention. Hence it happens that those 
 parts of the Service are generally recited best which occur least fre- 
 quently ; hence the Lessons are commonly better read, and the Lord's 
 Prayer w^orse read, more hurriedly and less reverently than any other 
 part. Some defects arising from the same cause may also be fre- 
 quently observed in the delivery of the Grace 'and the final Blessing.' 
 Hence also the number of preachers possessing a good delivery is 
 found to be much greater than that of good and impressive readers. 
 Indeed, such is the effect of frequently repeating the same words, 
 that the best readers need the utmost watchfulness, lest in the course 
 of years they fall into strange peculiarities and improprieties ; and 
 happy is the man who has friends possessing the kindness, as well as 
 the judgment, to point out these defects as they arise. Archbishop 
 Whately justly observes (in his 'Rhetoric,' p. 310): 'The difficulty of 
 reading the Liturgy with spirit, and even with propriety, is something 
 peculiar, on account of the inveterate and long-estabUshed faults to 
 which almost every one's ears become familiar, so that su-ch a delivery 
 as would shock any one of moderate taste in any other composition, he 
 will in this be likely to tolerate and even to practise.' 
 
 " 5. — A fifth and a very usual defect in the reading of young clergy- 
 men is rapidity and, its natural consequence, i?idistindf!ess. It is a mis- 
 take to suppose that the smooth but quick delivery which is very audible 
 and very agreeable in a room of common size, can with propriety be 
 adopted in reading the Service in a church which is of considerable 
 dimensions, and is often very badly constructed for public speaking. 
 Louder tones are in such places absolutely necessary ; to maintain 
 which, a more thorough respiration is rc(iuired ; and to render the words 
 
 I
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUnOiW .367 
 
 audible at a distance, a slower enunciation must be adopted. Indeed, 
 universal experience teaches that it is not those whose voices are the 
 loudest that are best understood by distant hearers, but those whose 
 utterance is deliberate, distinct, and equable. Besides, it must be remem- 
 bered that a rapid delivery is incompatible with the solemnity of prayer, 
 and therefore is wholly unsuited to the character of Public Worship. 
 But whilst endeavouring to avoid the defect of rapidity, the student 
 must not think that he has attained his object merely by introducing 
 very long pauses at the end of every sentence. He must be reminded 
 that each sentence requires pauses of different lengths in various parts of 
 it, besides the principal at the conclusion, and that the length of those 
 pauses must be proportioned to the general rate of utterance. 
 
 " 6. — Some readers also, through their desire to avoid the faults of 
 rapidity and indistinctness, fall into a drawling and whining manner — a 
 defect to which the most zealous and most serious seem to be parti- 
 cularly exposed, and which makes the congregation inattentive and 
 drowsy. 
 
 " 7. — Others adopt a stately and pompous style. Its impropriety 
 may not be striking when employed in reading the sublime language of 
 the Prophets ; but it will be felt to be utterly unsuitable in delivering 
 the greater part of the Service, particularly in repeating the Confession 
 that v/e are ' miserable sinners,' in uttering supplications for mercy to 
 penitent offenders, as well as in reciting the plain narratives of the Holy 
 Scriptures. In fact, it is highly important to remember that one manner 
 will not suit all parts of the Service. This remark naturally leads to 
 the notice of another defect. 
 
 " 8. — -Among young readers (perhaps among many readers and 
 preachers at every period of life) is the common defect of dropping the 
 voice so much at the end of every sentence as to become inaudible even 
 by those of the congregation who are near, or who are slightly deaf. 
 This error often arises from a misinterpretation of the common rule in 
 reading, which directs that at the end of most sentences the voice should 
 be lowered. Lot^<ered it may be as to the place on the musical scale in 
 relation to the note with which the sentence began, but not always 
 loivered in point of loudness and force. The last words are often the 
 most important of all ; and instead of being uttered in an undertone 
 and feeble manner, require the greatest distinctness, and sometimes 
 energy. Observe the mode of managing the voice which nature dictates 
 in private or public discussions — the loudest and firmest tones will often 
 be heard in pronouncing the concluding words. The defect in question 
 frequently arises likewise from neglecting to introduce sufficient pauses 
 between the parts of a sentence, in consequence of an erroneous notion 
 that one inspiratio7i must suffice for one sentence. Such readers draw 
 in a full breath, commence in a loud vigorous tone, run on at a rapid 
 rate, attending very little to punctuation, however correct, and utterly 
 regardless of introducing additional pauses which may add clearness and 
 strength to the meaning ; thus they proceed with tones becoming weaker 
 and weaker, till the breath is exhausted, and the sentence ends wholly 
 inaudible by most of the congregation. One method of remedying this
 
 368 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 defect, especially in the delivery of long sentences, is to search out a fit 
 place for pausing and inhalation somewhere within a short distance of 
 the end of the sentence. Recruited by a fresh supply of breath, the 
 reader is enabled to conclude with distinctness and suitable force ; and 
 not only so, but he will find he can effect it with much less fatigue to 
 himself. In connection with this part of the subject, both readers and 
 preachers should remember the old rule : — 'Take care of the end of the 
 sentence : the beginning will take care of itself Some Preachers are 
 in the habit of suddenly lowering the voice for the purpose of rendering 
 the importance of some concluding remark more deeply felt. Let them 
 be warned against the consequence which frequently follows— viz., be- 
 coming inaudible except to the nearest listeners. 
 
 "9. — In endeavouring to avoid the faults of concluding sentences 
 inaudibly, some readers fall into an opposite error. They terminate 
 almost every sentence with the tipward slide of the voice, that which 
 suggests the idea that the sentence is incomplete, and leads to the 
 expectation that more must be added to complete it. This method may 
 make the final words better heard, but it does not effect this object 
 without injury to the sense. A careful observation of the usual mode 
 adopted in ordinary conversation certainly confirms the correctness 
 of the general rule, that a declarative sentence terminates with the 
 do7Ufi-ivard inflection. 
 
 " The defect last mentioned is often accompanied by a peculiar jerk 
 of the voice, somewhat resembling what writers on elocution denominate 
 the rising circumflex, composed of the downward and rising inflection. 
 It is used more especially when there is a wish to conclude with force 
 and animation, though there may not be any intention of conveying an 
 idea that antithesis is either expressed or implied. This peculiarity 
 is very prevalent among the higher classes of society. Supposing, for 
 instance, the following sentence were to be delivered in concluding 
 a speech in Parliament : — ' In short, I have no hesitation in saying that 
 the prosperity of the nation is closely connected with the present mea- 
 sure.' To communicate some degree of energy to the passage, many of 
 the speakers would pronounce the last word with a peculiar upward 
 twist of the voice and a solemn declamatory tone — ' with the preserit 
 vicasure ; ' whereas, in the ordinary mode of deliver)-, the simple down- 
 ward inflection would be given to the word 'measure.' The same ter- 
 minational jerk is adopted by some eminent PreacJiers. Many hearers 
 may admire it, but Jhe majority consider it a blemish, and it might 
 be easily corrected by attending to the fundamental principle above 
 mentioned in regard to the falling inflection. 
 
 " 10. — The unvaried manner is a fault which may sometimes be ob- 
 served in the delivery of those who are generally considered to be good 
 readers. Their demeanour may be solemn and devout ; their articula- 
 tion clear and distinct; their general style easy and unaffected; but 
 still they are dull and unimpressive, and consequently the hearers be- 
 come drowsy and inattentive. This arises from want of variety. The 
 humble supplications of the Litany, the ardent adoration of the Te 
 Deum, the solemn injunctions of the Decalogue, the sublime prophecies
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 369 
 
 of the Old Testament, the simple, unadorned narratives of the New — 
 all are delivered in one unvaried manner. Many Clergymen, doubtless, 
 adopt this uniformity upon principle, conceiving that the style of read- 
 ing which accommodates itself to the subject, and which they would 
 consider proper on all other occasions, is to be excluded from the 
 Church, as unsuited to the solemnity of the place and the dignity of the 
 sacred office. But it appears wholly inexplicable why that mode of 
 delivery which is found on all other occasions to convey the meaning 
 with perspicuity, and to affect the minds of the hearers in the most 
 powerful manner, should be banished from the Church, where to excite 
 the feelings is of the highest importance. Variety of subject forms an 
 admirable characteristic of our Liturgy ; and that it requires a corre- 
 sponding variety in the reading of the Minister, appears to be most 
 agreeable to the dictates of common sense. This opinion is confirmed 
 by the fact that those readers are found to be most successful in keeping 
 up the attention, and exciting serious and devotional feelings, who can 
 best adapt the manner to the sentiment. To attain this art a happy 
 combination must concur of a clear head, a feeling heart, and a con- 
 siderable flexibility of voice. The best general rule is to study previously 
 the sentiments which are to be delivered, so as fully to understand their 
 true meaning, and then endeavour to suit the manner of delivery to the 
 matter, and occasionally to the character of the person whose words are 
 recited. A disregard of this latter particular is often very offensive. 
 What can be more so than to hear the language of the meek and lowly 
 Jesus delivered in a stern, pompous, authoritative tone ? ' In our Blessed 
 Lord's discourses and instructions,' says Paley, 'all was calmness. No 
 emotions, no violence, no agitation, when He delivered the most sub- 
 lime, affecting doctrines, and most comfortable or most terrifying predic- 
 tions. The Prophets before Him fainted and sunk under the communi- 
 cations which they received from above ; so strong was their impression, 
 so unequal was their strength ; but truths that overwhelmed the servants 
 of God were familiar to His Son.^ (Paley's Sermons, edited by E. 
 Paley, vol. ii. p. 34.) The striking peculiarity in our Lord's discourses 
 and instructions should be carefully remembered by the Minister when 
 he reads them to his flock. Everything that savours of pomposity or 
 haughtiness of manner should be studiously avoided. Such a style is 
 indeed unsuited to, every part of the Service, but it is more especially 
 displeasing when adopted in reciting the words of our Heavenly Master. 
 The manner on such occasions should be particularly mild, tranquil, 
 and dignified. 
 
 " II. But in studying to suit the manner to the sentiment, there is 
 a danger of being theatrical, of becoming either vehement and impas- 
 sioned, or colloquial and familiar. In reading a Scriptural narrative, 
 in which sometimes a dramatic form is maintained, some of the Clergy 
 adopt a striking difference of voice to suit the respective characters, 
 and become actors rather than readers ; but it is to be remembered 
 that reading \% not acting; it may partake of some of its expression, but 
 is more subdued. The great difficulty is to know where to draw 
 the line between a sober, chastened adaptation of manner to subject, 
 
 2 A
 
 370 fCING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 and animated dramatic recitation. Here discretion and right feeling 
 alone can guide. 
 
 "i2. — The student must also be warned against another common 
 fault. Wishing to read feelingly and impressively, some persons will 
 emphasise too much. The matchless simplicity of Scripture is frequently 
 overlaid by too great an anxiety to give weight and dignity. Whilst 
 intending to be very impressive, the injudicious reader often produces 
 a contrary effect. By elaborately taking too much pains, he fails in the 
 very object proposed. 
 
 "To the Clergyman who has been engaged a few years in his sacred 
 office, it may appear unnecessary to look over the Lessons which he is 
 about to read in the Church. But though he may have a general recol- 
 lection of their contents, and may be perfectly aware of what general 
 manner will be best suited to the subject, still it frequently happens 
 that a preparatory reading will recall the full meaning of many passages, 
 which cannot be clearly conveyed to the hearers without considerable 
 skill in the reader, and it will indeed sometimes suggest ideas which 
 never occurred to him before. When such passages present themselves 
 unexpectedly, even the best readers often inadequately express the sen- 
 timent, and feel regret at having omitted a previous examination. The 
 student will find himself much assisted by marking in his own Prayer- 
 Book and Bible with the requisite inflections and notations such parts 
 in the Epistles, Gospels, and Lessons as require more than common 
 care in the reading. A single inspection of those marked passages at 
 any subsequent period will be sufficient to recall the whole to his recol- 
 lection. Let him not, however, content himself with merely perusing 
 the above-mentioned partSi of the Service ; but let him adopt the rule of 
 always reading them aloud in private before he delivers them in the 
 Church. He that is new to the profession should extend this previous 
 study and practice to all parts of the Service. By study he will acquire 
 notions of the general manner of delivery which is best suited to the 
 respective portions, and of the particular manner of reading by which 
 the true meaning of particular passages may be rendered most clear 
 and impressive ; and by recitation in private he will fix right habits so 
 firmly as to be able to retain them with ease to himself, notwithstanding 
 the tremor and nervous feeling which usually attend the novice in the 
 discharge of public duties. 
 
 " In the student's endeavour to acquire a delivery suited to the sub- 
 ject, he will be much aided by adopting the plan recommended by 
 Mr. Sheridan, father of the celebrated orator and dramatist, of deliver- 
 ing the Service from memory. This method will be attended with 
 some difficulty at first, as they who have always been accustomed to the 
 assistance of the book may lose their presence of mind when deprived 
 of that aid, and not be able to repeat even what is perfectly rooted in 
 the memory, like persons accustomed to swim with the help of corks, 
 who would immediately sink it they were deprived of them. Nay, I 
 have known some Clergymen so exceedingly timid in this respect, that 
 they never could venture to deliver even the Lord's Prayer before the 
 sermon without having it written down. The way to get the better of
 
 Lect. XXII.] . ON- ELOCUTION. 371 
 
 such apprehension will be to practise it first in private family duties ; 
 and when they find they can perform it without difficulty they will be 
 emboldened gradually to do the same in public worship also. But for 
 their further security they may, for some time (perhaps constantly, to 
 prevent accidents), turn over the leaves of the Service as they advance, 
 to have the passage before them which they are reciting, to which they 
 may have recourse in case they should at any time find themselves at a 
 loss. Every Clergyman will upon trial find that this change of mode 
 will not only produce excellent effect on the congregation, but will be 
 the source of a perpetual fund of satisfaction to himself. For as nothing 
 can be more irksome than the drudgery and weariness arising from 
 going over continually one and the same settled service, in the usual 
 cold and mechanical way, so nothing can cause greater inward satis- 
 faction than praying from the heart, as all must have felt who pray 
 earnestly in their private devotions." (Every one who has adopted the 
 plan here suggested will have been sensible of its great advantages, and 
 will most heartily concur in acknowledging the truth of the writer's 
 concluding remarks.) 
 
 "Having thus cautioned the student against various defects, and 
 suggested to him various remedies, he may naturally ask by what 
 means he may discover the defects observable in his own mode of 
 reading. The task of discovery is indeed difficult, but not insuperable, 
 provided it be undertaken with a real desire for improvement. If a 
 professed teacher of elocution, one of acknowledged eminence in his 
 art, is within reach, his opinion may be immediately obtained as to the 
 existence of gross defects, as well as his aid in conquering them. Nor 
 will a Clergyman who is earnest in his attempts at improvement allow a 
 false and foolish pride to prevent him from seeking such aid. It has 
 been eagerly sought at the commencement of their pastoral labours by 
 many pious and eminent divines, who have thereby acquired a skill in 
 the management of the voice, a distinctness, and grace, and force of 
 delivery, which have greatly contributed to extend the usefulness of 
 their ministry. If professional instruction cannot be obtained, still the 
 young Clergyman may ascertain some facts for himself He may easily 
 discover whether his congregation consider his delivery too slow or too 
 fast, too loud or too low ; whether in every part of the Service he is 
 audible by all ; whether the aged in particular can hear the Lessons. 
 But whether or not he is free from the other defects which have been 
 enumerated, such as a pompous, theatrical, dull, or laboured manner, 
 it will not be so easy to ascertain the general opinion, as these are 
 matters of taste respecting which the judgments of his hearers will vary. 
 Besides, few would choose to express their sentiments to the individual 
 himself on these delicate points. Here the assistance of a judicious 
 friend may be extremely useful. Nor will it be so difficult as may be 
 imagined to find those who are competent to give a just opinion. For 
 it is in reading as in other arts : a man may be a tolerably good Judge 
 of reading, though a very indifferent reader himself; he may be able 
 to give a very correct opinion respecting the style of others, as well as 
 the effect likely to be produced on the generality of hearers.
 
 372 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 " For the student's encouragement it must be added that if he dih- 
 gently strive to improve his reading, he may be assured that improve- 
 ment will follow. With regard even to those natural impediments 
 which are sometimes pleaded in excuse of an inefficient deUvery of the 
 Divine Service (such as an indifferent voice, an inarticulate utterance, 
 an imperfect pronunciation of certain letters, &c.), the late Bishop 
 Blomfield, distinguished both as a reader and a preacher, justly 
 remarked that ' no one can tell how much may be done in the way of 
 improvement till he has tried all the various aids of advice, and 
 practice, and careful study, with prayer for the assistance of God's 
 Holy Spirit.' It is readily admitted that rules cannot make a finished 
 reader : to produce such a character there must be a rare combination 
 of talent, feeling, and physical powers. But moderate capabilities are 
 the average lot ; and these, through the wise constitution of our nature, 
 are in early life always improvable. It may, therefore, be affirmed with 
 truth that to become a tolerably good reader, capable of delivering the 
 Service in a solemn, earnest, and impressive manner, is placed within 
 the power of every young Clergyman." 
 
 Now I think it cannot be denied that there is much truth in the 
 foregoing remarks of Mr. Howlett, and there can scarcely be a reader 
 to whom these remarks are addressed who cannot, in the course of his 
 experience in the attendance of public worship, have met with instances 
 of the various faulty styles adopted by his clerical brethren, of which Mr. 
 Howlett so justly complains. For the correction of such styles I cannot 
 do better than once more recommend Mr. Howlett's admirable work 
 " On Reading the Liturgy " to the attention of all clergymen and 
 theological students. 
 
 But as regards the sermon, alike in reference to its construction and 
 delivery, a volume might be well written. To treat the subject at 
 any great length, the limits to which I am confined necessarily forbid. 
 Some extremely useful suggestions will be found in the well-known 
 works of the Rev. Daniel Moore, the Abbe Bautain, and others ; but 
 one of the most useful and the most recent with which I am acquainted 
 is an American work by the Rev. William Pettinger, entitled " Oratory, 
 vSacred and Secular."* All that I can pretend to do is to offer a few 
 hints gathered from various sources. 
 
 And first I feel assured that in the construction of sermons, as in all 
 other discourses to be addressed to a public audience, the primary and 
 most important step, after having carefully selected a subject, is calmly, 
 deliberately, and maturely to think it over and revolve it in the mind in 
 all the various aspects under which it may be presented. Thoughts 
 beget thoughts ; but you will find that ideas cannot be always retained 
 equally in view. Let each one be secured as it arises, and noted at 
 the time. After the subject has been thought over for a sufficient 
 ■ length of time, write down all the ideas that have occurred to you as 
 bearing on it, taking but little care for the order of arrangement, but 
 ^pnly just putting such a word or brief sentence as will suffice to recall 
 * Wells, Broadway, New York ; and Triibner, Paternoster Row, London,
 
 I,ECT. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 373 
 
 the idea that is designed to be hereafter more fully expanded. After 
 every thought that has thus occurred to you has been thus secured 
 and rendered permanent, the sketch containing these head-notes may 
 for the time be put aside, and the whole left to be dwelt on at leisure 
 by the mind. If other ideas subsequently arise, let them be recorded 
 in the same manner, and so continue the process, so long as fresh 
 thoughts or illustrations come before your mental view. You will find 
 in the interesting diary and note-book of the popular American author, 
 the late Nathaniel Hawthorne, many instances of this valuable noting 
 down of thoughts, which were afterwards amply and beautifully worked 
 out. Those who have not tried this simple and natural process, will 
 be astonished to find how many ideas will arise even on what is 
 apparently the most ordinary subject, as they maturely revolve it in 
 their minds. Time and deliberation will, ere long, give mental 
 tangible form and substance even to what appeared at first vague and 
 indefinite. The mind, then, having thus evolved all that it can from 
 the accumulated stores of memory and reflection, it will be well, then, 
 to see if new facts can be obtained that will in any degree throw fuller 
 light on, or serve to further illustrate, the subject. For this purpose 
 you will, of course, seek the best channels of information that are open 
 to you, such as the works of those authors who have written on the 
 subject you are proposing to discuss, the conversation of persons who 
 are well acquainted with it, and other kindred means of acquiring 
 ampler stores of knowledge. When you have thus got on paper all 
 the notes you think necessary, your next task will be to arrange the 
 whole in proper order and harmony on another sheet of paper, retaining 
 what appears to you to be proper and serviceable, and rejecting all 
 superfluous or useless matter. On the plan upon which a discourse is 
 constructed no doubt much of its success depends. In some cases 
 this is comparatively an easy task, and in others a very difficult one, 
 according to the nature and character of the question to be discussed. 
 
 Upon this part of our subject, viz., the various plans upon which 
 sermons may be constructed, the American divine I have named (Mr. 
 Pettinger) offers some useful suggestions. He says examination will 
 show that almost all sermons are constructed on one of four plans, 
 which may be thus denominated and described. 
 
 First, the narrative method. This is principally used when some 
 Scripture narrative forms the basis of the sermon. In it the different 
 parts of the plan are arranged according to the order of time, except 
 when some particular reason, borrowed from the other methods, inter- 
 venes. When there are few or none of these portions which give it a 
 composite character, the development proceeds with all the simplicity 
 of a story. Many beautiful sermons have been thus constructed. 
 
 A second method is the textual. Each part of the sermon rests on 
 some of the words or clauses of the text, and these suggest the order 
 of its unfolding, although they may be changed to make it correspond 
 more nearly to the narrative or the logical methods. This kind of plan 
 has an obvious advantage in assisting the memory by suggesting each 
 part at the proper time.
 
 374 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 The third method is the logical, which may be thus described. A 
 topic is taken, and without reference to the order of time or the words 
 of the text, is unfolded as a proposition in geometry is demonstrated, 
 each thought being preliminary to that which follows, and the whole 
 ending in the demonstration of some great truth, and the deduction of 
 its legitimate corollaries. This method is exceedingly valuable in many 
 cases, if not pressed too far, or carried beyond due limits. 
 
 The fourth and last method, and the one employed more frequently 
 than all the others, is the divisional. It is the analytic system, and by 
 it the whole sermon is governed and organised. All the detached items 
 are brought into related groups, each governed by a principal thought, 
 and these again are held in strict subordination to the supreme idea ; 
 so that the entire discourse resembles a tree, with its single trunk, its 
 branches subdivided into smaller ones, and all covered with a beautiful 
 robe of leaves, that rounds its form into graceful outlines, even as the 
 flow of words harmonises our prepared thoughts into the unity of a 
 living discourse. 
 
 A subject will many times arrange itself almost as it were spontane- 
 ously into several different parts, which thus form the proper divisions, 
 and these, again, may be easily analysed into their appropriate sub- 
 divisions. Even when this is not the case, we shall see, as we examine 
 our jottings, that a few of the ideas stand out in especial prominence, 
 and with a little close study of relations and affinities, all the others 
 may be made to group themselves around these. The individual ideas 
 which we put down on the first study of the subject, usually form the 
 subdivisions, and some generalisation of them, the divisions. It is 
 advisable, if possible, not to make the branches of a subject too 
 numerous, or they will tend to introduce confusion, and fail to be 
 remembered. From two to four divisions, with two or three subdivisions 
 under each, are, in the majority of cases, better than a larger number. 
 It is not always advisable to present formally the divisions and sub- 
 divisions of a sermon when preaching it. A congregation in general 
 does not much care how a sermon has been actually constructed, pro- 
 vided it comes to them warm, fervent, and full of life and earnestness. 
 Indeed, to give the plan of a sermon to a congregation before the 
 sermon itself, seems contrary to the analogy of Nature, who in fullest 
 health conceals the skeleton under the rounded and graceful form of 
 life. If it should be urged that this laborious preparation, this careful 
 and orderly marshalling of every thought in order to ensure success in 
 extempore preaching, requires as much time as to write the sermon out 
 at full length, the answer is that it may do so at first, but it will be found 
 to be a most excellent and profitable mental discipline, which will grow 
 easier with continual practice, until the preparation of two or three 
 sermons a week will not be felt at all as a burden. 
 
 If the preacher should be one who always delivers a written discourse 
 from the pulpit, it will be easy enough for him to elaborate a sermon at 
 length from the outline plan which he has sketched out ; but if he aims 
 at that which is certainly the most effective of all, when well carried 
 out and properly delivered, viz., an extempore discourse, his ne.xt step
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 375 
 
 will be to commit the plan to memory, and it is well to do so some con- 
 siderable time before entering the pulpit, for there is then less liability 
 of forgetting some portion of it, and it takes a more full and complete 
 possession of the mind. If this method of committing the whole plan 
 to memory be adopted, it will be found to enable the mind to take a 
 clearer and more comprehensive view of the whole subject, and if 
 the plan be properly constructed, the mind is then in the best possible 
 condition for giving expression to its thoughts in language. The object 
 is fixed in the soul, and will inspire it with earnestness and zeal, and 
 this is just what is wanted in all true preaching. The mind, warmed 
 by the full contemplation of the object, penetrates every part of the 
 theme, investing it with an interest that must awaken attention, and so 
 all the power of which the preacher is possessed, is brought to bear fully 
 and directly on his hearers. I think it is well, until long practice has 
 made it a perfectly easy and familiar task, that all extempore preachers 
 or speakers should have their notes with them at the time of delivering 
 their discourses, lest such an untoward accident should happen as that 
 related by the Abbe Bautain, which once befell him in the early part of 
 his career, when, having to preach before the French king and court, 
 he found, on entering the pulpit, he had alike forgotten text, subject, 
 and plan. 
 
 From these necessarily brief and general suggestions for the con- 
 struction of a sermon, I pass on now to say a few words as regards its 
 delivery. 
 
 In one respect the position of the preacher is unique. He comes 
 accredited with a higher authority than any other, an authority not 
 his own, and he may say from his pulpit what he likes without fear of 
 interruption, or, at all events at the time, any fear of reply, however 
 weak his argument or unsatisfactory his conclusion. In general, too, 
 he has a right to assume that his audience is favourable to him, and 
 that his views are substantially the same as theirs, and that he will be 
 listened to patiently to the end of his discourse. What are the themes 
 on which he enlarges ? The highest, noblest, and most solemn of 
 all, to which all the usual topics dwelt upon in other public addresses 
 sink into comparative insignificance. No subjects surely can be said 
 to approach his in sublimity and importance, for his topics carry 
 the soul beyond the interests of earth to heaven, beyond time to 
 eternity. Argument, persuasion, warning, appeal, statement, descrip- 
 tion, all these powerful weapons of the orator are his to wield at 
 pleasure, and if he be able to realise the divine nature of his mission, 
 beneath all overlying accessories, he has the inner consciousness 
 that no themes can approach his in importance to mankind, for they 
 deal with the immortal soul and all that links it with its Creator, 
 Might it not well be imagined that such a position and such subjects 
 of discourse, Avould, of all others, be the most favourable to elicit the 
 highest manifestations of earnestness and zeal of the deepest feeling 
 and emotion ? And yet practically, what is the result ? A recent writer, 
 alluding to the delivery of sermons, says in language — which, I fear, 
 cannot be called greatly exaggerated — that the discourses too generally
 
 376 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [LEcr. XXII. 
 
 heard from our pulpits in town and country are "prosy, inartistic, 
 unattractive to mind or ear, drawling and slumberous, droning out 
 dreary platitudes in dullest language, unenlivened by a flash of eloquence 
 or a spark of true poetry. To listen to them is an effort, and the result of 
 the effort is pain — pain to the intellect which is unrewarded — pain to 
 the taste which is offended — pain to the ear which is wearied. Added 
 to these is a certain sense of annoyance at a noble opportunity lost, 
 and the involuntary comparison of what that discourse might and should 
 have been, with what it is." 
 
 This language may perhaps seem rather overcharged, but I think 
 most persons will admit there is some substantial foundation for it. 
 The preacher's two great aims in almost all sermons are to convince and 
 to persuade ; and what is the most frequent hindrance to these aims 
 being accomplished ? Is it not, more than anything else, the want of 
 a good delivery ? And can we wonder that a good delivery is so rare 
 when so many men enter holy orders without any preparation what- 
 ever for the art of reading aloud or preaching ? I confess it seems to 
 me almost as reasonable to send a soldier into the field of battle wholly 
 unskilled in the use of his sword or rifle, as to send a young man into 
 the pulpit to preach a sermon wholly untrained, theoretically or practi- 
 cally, in the art of public reading and speaking. 
 
 There is an old story, doubtless familiar to most of us, for it has 
 been current for the last century, that a certain bishop once asked 
 Betterton, the great actor, how it was that audiences were so deeply 
 moved by his performances on ths stage, while congregations listened 
 apparently unmoved to discourses on the most solemn and important 
 subjects from the pulpit ? and the tragedian, it is said, answered, '' I can 
 only suppose, my lord, that it is because fictions on the stage are so 
 delivered as to seem for the time realities, while the most vital of all 
 realities are so delivered from the pulpit, as to seetn Uttle more than 
 fiction." I fear it will be said that the anecdote is but too generally as 
 applicable now as then. However good in matter a preacher's sermon 
 may be, it will be comparatively wasted unless the attention of a con- 
 gregation can be awakened and kept alive by a good delivery. It may, 
 indeed, be almost said that the power of a good delivery is so great, that 
 even an indiff'erent sermon well delivered, is, with the great majority of a 
 congregation, more effective than a good sermon badly delivered. When 
 we go abroad, and attend any places of public worship on the Conti- 
 nent, we certainly find a striking contrast presented in the fervent deli 
 very, and varied and expressive action, that distinguish foreign preachers 
 in general, to the tameness and frigidity that characterise most of our 
 l)ulpit discourses. There may be, to our taste, exuberance of warmth 
 on the one hand, but is there not far too much coldness on the other ? 
 A\'ould it not be better if our pulpits exhibited a style that was more 
 a happy medium between those two extremes ? 
 
 As regards the general rules for the good delivery of a sermon, they 
 are the same as those I have already suggested for the good delivery 
 of any other discourse to be addressed to a public audience. If the 
 preacher be one, who does not yet dare to trust himself to the delivery of
 
 Lect. XXIL] ON ELOCUTION. 377 
 
 an extempore discourse, but reads his sermon, let him endeavour so to 
 read it that it shall resemble as much as possible speaking, and as little 
 as possible 7nere readi?ig. Let him, for this purpose, train the eye to the 
 invaluable art of being able to grasp a sentence, or clause of a sentence, 
 at a glance, and then deliver it, not with his eyes fixed on the page, but 
 looking at his congregation, and varying his regard of them from time 
 to time, as if each individual member of such congregation were per- 
 sonally addressed. There can be no question that the eyes aid mate- 
 rially in riveting attention to any speaker's discourse, no matter whether 
 it be one spoken extempore or read aloud. Just try the experiment 
 of endeavouring to listen to one whom some obstacle prevents you 
 from seeing, and see what a labour it will be to keep up your attention, 
 more especially if the delivery does not rise above mediocrity. We all 
 instinctively like to see, as well as hear, a speaker, and. to watch the 
 varied play of feature and expression of countenance, and appropriate 
 use of action. This last word naturally brings me to the subject of 
 gesture in the pulpit. Certainly the rostrum to which our preachers are 
 confined is by no means favourable to action. All action in it must 
 necessarily be confined to the trunk, head, arms, and hand, but all these 
 portions of the body rightly used, especially in energetic passages, such 
 as convey appeal, warning, or denunciation, may be rendered highly 
 effective, and continual opportunities will arise for the use of emphatic, 
 and what is termed referential, gesture. 
 
 For fuller suggestions respecting the employment of action, I must refer 
 you to what I have already said with reference to it in former Lectures, 
 only observing that in the pulpit more than in any other place " discre- 
 tion " should " be your tutor," and anything like exaggeration of action 
 should be avoided. Because a preacher aims at being earnest, impres- 
 sive, and zealous in his vocation, there is no need to be extravagant or 
 violent. I 'venture to repeat here what I said on our opening night. 
 We often hear well-intentioned persons — but who evidently have not 
 at all fully considered the subject — object to the resources of the art of 
 elocution, which after all means only the aggregate of what constitutes 
 good delivery, being introduced into the reading-desk and pulpit, and 
 say it savours of irreverence or profanity to rehearse over and over 
 again prayers addressed to the Deity, until a mode is attained that shall 
 satisfy the standard set up for the right performance of their public 
 ministerial functions ; and that to recite or practise the reading aloud of 
 their sermons, as an actor would study and rehearse his part, is to reduce 
 the high and sacred calling of the clergyman to an unworthy level. I 
 have heard some such objections raised by clergymen as well as laymen. 
 But let me ask how is the singing of hymns and anthems managed in 
 our cathedrals, churches, and chapels ? Is not the conducting of them left 
 to persons wholly unskilled in the vocal art ? Do not organists, choristers, 
 and singers meet and practise and rehearse over and over again the 
 anthems, psalms, and hymns they have to sing, until all is thought 
 sufficient in point of excellence, to be sung in public worship ? And 
 are psalms, hymns, and anthems less direct appeals to the Deity than 
 the prayers in our Liturgy, and do not all claim to be parts of divine
 
 378 AVA'QS COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 service? I answer, what is not thought to be waste of time or irreve- 
 rence in the one case, is equally neither waste of time nor irreverence 
 in the other. To read the Liturgy and to preach a sermon well is an 
 art that requires just as much to be studied and practised as the sing- 
 ing of hymns and anthems is an art that requires proper training and 
 cultivation. Every part of public worship should be made as excellent 
 as possible, and no portion of it neglected. 
 
 When I first began, now more than twenty years ago, delivering 
 lectures on Public Reading and Speaking at Oxford, I happened to 
 find in the library of University College, a work by Dr. Burgh, on the 
 Art of Speaking, more than a century old, and which I believe is now 
 a very rare one, for I have never met with a copy since. The answers 
 which the author gives to the objections or prejudices entertained in 
 his time to the art of elocution being studied and practised by clergy- 
 men before the public discharge 6f their ministerial functions, are so 
 sound and sensible, and so applicable to our time as well as his, that I 
 feel assured I cannot close this Lecture better than by giving you an 
 abstract of Dr. Burgh's remarks. 
 
 "It may," he says, "perhaps be objected here that sacred truth 
 needs no ornament to set it off, no art to enforce it ; that the Apostles 
 were artless and illiterate men, and yet they gained the great end of 
 their mission, the conviction of multitudes, and establishment of their 
 religion ; that, therefore, there is no necessity for this attention to 
 delivery, in order to qualify the preacher for his sacred office, or to 
 render his labours successful. 
 
 "To all this the answer is ready, viz. : First, the Apostles were not 
 all artless and illiterate ; St. Paul, the greatest and most general propa- 
 gator of Christianity, is an eminent exception. He could be no mean 
 orator who confounded the Jews at Damascus,* made a prince, before 
 whom he stood to be judged, confess that he had almost persuaded 
 him to become a convert to a religion everywhere spoken against ;t 
 threw another into a fit of trembling as he sat upon his judgment-seat :t 
 made a defence before the learned court of Areopagus, which gained 
 him for a convert a member of the court itself; § struck a whole people 
 with such admiration that they took him for the god of eloquence ;|| 
 and gained him a place in Longinus's % list of famous orators. Would 
 the cold-served-up monotony of our English sermon-readers have pro- 
 duced such effects as these? But, further, the Apostles might very 
 well spare human accomplishments ; having what was worth them all, 
 viz., the divine gift of working miracles; which if our preachers had, I 
 should not have much to say about their qualifying themselves in 
 elocution. But, as it is, public instruction is the preacher's weapon, 
 with which he is to combat infidelity and vice. And what avails a 
 weapon without skill to wield it ? 
 
 ■* Acts ix. 22. t Acts xxvi. 28 ; xxviii. 22. % Acts xxiv. 25. 
 
 § Acts xvii. 34. II Acts xiv. 12. 
 
 IT " ' It was with no smnll pleasure I lately met with a fragment of Longiiuis, 
 which is preserved as a testimony of that critic's judgment, at the beginning of a 
 manuscript of the New Testament in the Vatican library. After that author has
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 379 
 
 " Medicines the most salutary to the body are taken with reluctance, 
 if nauseous to the taste. However, they are taken. But the more 
 necessary physic for the soul, if it be not rendered somewhat palatable, 
 will be absolutely rejected. For we are much less prudent in our care 
 for the most valuable part of ourselves than for the least. Therefore 
 the preacher ought, above all other public speakers, to labour to enrich 
 and adorn, in the most masterly manner, his addresses to mankind ; his 
 views being the most important. What grand point has the player to 
 play ? Why, to draw an audience to the theatre.* The pleader at the 
 bar, if he lays before the judges and jury the true state of the case, so 
 as they may be most likely to see where the right of it lies, and a just 
 decision may be given, has done his duty ; and the affair in agitation 
 is an estate, or, at most, a life, which will soon by course of nature 
 be extinct. And of the speaker in either House of Parliament, the 
 very utmost that can be said is, that the good of his country may, in 
 great measure, depend upon his tongue. But the infinitely important 
 object of preaching is, the reformation of mankind, upon which depends 
 their happiness in this world and throughout the whole of their being. 
 Of what consequence is it, then, that the art of preaching be carried to 
 such perfection, that all may be drawn to places of public instruction, 
 and that those who attend them may receive benefit ! And if almost 
 the whole of preaching be delivery, how necessary is the study of 
 delivery ! That delivery is incomparably the most important part in 
 public instruction, is manifest from this, that very indifferent matter 
 well delivered will make a considerable impression. t But bad utter- 
 ance will defeat the whole effect of the noblest composition ever 
 produced. 
 
 "While exorbitant appetite and unruly passion within, while evil 
 example with alluring solicitation without, while these invite and 
 ensnare the frail and thoughtless into guilt, shall virtue and religion 
 hold forth no charms to engage votaries ? Pleasure decks herself out 
 with rich attire. Soft are her looks, and melting is the sweetness of her 
 voice. And must religion present herself with every disadvantage ? 
 Must she appear quite unadorned? What chance can she, then, have 
 in competition with an enemy so much better furnished with every 
 necessary invitation and allurement ? Alas ! our preachers do not 
 address innocents in paradise, but thoughtless and often habituated 
 sinners. Mere cold explaining will have but little effect on such. 
 Weak is the hold which reason has on most men. Few of mankind 
 
 numbered up the most celebrated orators among the Grecians, he says, ' Add to these 
 Paul of Tarsus, the patron of an opinion not yet fully proved.' " — Spectator, No. 633. 
 
 * " I deny not that the theatre is capable of being made a school of virtue. But 
 it must be put under regulations, other than we have ever yet seen it ; and those too 
 various to be specified here ; so numerous are the particulars which want reformation, 
 much more being at present wrong than right." 
 
 t " ' A proof of the importance of delivery,' says Quintilian, 'may be drawn from 
 the additional force which the actors give to what is written by the best poets, so that 
 what we hear pronounced by them gives infinitely more pleasure than when we only 
 read it.' And again, 'I think I may affirm that a very indifferent speech, well set 
 off by the speaker, shall have a greater effect than the best, if destitute of that advan- 
 tage.' — Quint. Inst. Oral., p. 441. 'Documento sunt vel scenici,' &c."
 
 38o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 have able heads. All have hearts ; and all hearts may be touched, if 
 the speaker is master of his art. The business is not so much to open 
 the understanding as to warm the heart. There are few who do not 
 know their duty. To allure them to the doing of it is the difficulty. 
 Nor is this to be effected by cold reasoning. Accordingly, the Scripture 
 orators are none of them cold. Their addresses are such as hardly 
 any man can utter without warmth. ' Hear, O heavens ! Give ear, O 
 earth ! To thee, O man, I call ; my voice is to the sons of men. As 
 I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked ; 
 but rather that he turn from his wickedness and live. Turn ye, turn 
 ye. Why will ye die ? O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! thou that killest the 
 prophets, and stonest them who are sent unto thee ! How often 
 would I have gathered thy children, as a hen gathereth her brood 
 under her wings, and ye would not. Hadst thou, in this thy day, 
 known the things which belong to thy peace ! But now they are hid 
 from thine eyes.' 
 
 " It is true, the preacher is carefully to avoid ostentation. But at the 
 same time he is to ' stir up every gift that is in him ; to cry aloud and 
 not to spare ; to lift up his voice like a trumpet ; to reprove, correct, 
 and instruct ; to be instant in season and out of season ; to become 
 (innocently) all 'things to all men,' consequently to become an orator, 
 if men are not to be affected by simple unadorned truth, however 
 weighty. 
 
 " What can the people think of the sincerity of the preacher, who is 
 cold and languid in his public instructions, while he is as warm and 
 zealous as other men in the defence of an inconsiderable part of his 
 property ? Would he plead as calmly for his life, as he does with his 
 people in the cause of virtue and religion ? Coolness in a matter of 
 the last importance, and about which one is really in earnest, is so 
 unnatural as to be hardly practicable. Therefore Cicero* takes it 
 for granted, that Calidius could not have addressed the Senate in so 
 indifferent and unanimated a manner, if what he wanted to persuade 
 them to beUeve had not been mere fiction. And Demosthenes, when 
 one came to him begging that he would plead his cause against a person 
 who had used him cruelly, of which usage he gave Demosthenes a very 
 cold and unanimated account, could not believe that he had been so 
 injured, till, upon his signifying his suspicion, the man was roused 
 to some warmth ; and then the orator was convinced that his complaint 
 was well founded, and immediately undertook the defence, t 
 
 " If it should be said by preachers, * The people will be as much 
 offended with us, if we overact our part, as they are now indifferent 
 about attending our ministry ; so that it will avail nothing to study a 
 more lively delivery ; ' to this I must beg leave to answer, that there is 
 no reason to fear anything from it. Because a manner of preaching 
 may be used, which shall have ten times more life and vivacity in it 
 than the present, and yet (if it be not unnatural or incorrect) be very safe 
 from all danger of exceeding due bounds as to vivacity and force. 
 And, further, we do, in fact, observe that no preacher is admired (I 
 
 * •' ' Tu ibUc, M. Calidii nisi fingeres, sic ageres.' "' — CiC. Brut., p. iSl. Tom. i. 
 t " Plut. in Vit. Demostli."
 
 Lect. XXIL] on elocution. 381 
 
 do not mean by the mob, but by people of education) whose delivery 
 is dull and unanimated, let his matter be what it will. 
 
 "Lest any reader should think I have been too severe upon the defi- 
 ciencies of men of sacred character, as to deUvery, either in leading the 
 devotions of the people, or in instructing them in their duty ; I will add, 
 by way of apology for what I have said, some passages to the same 
 purpose from one of Addison's papers in the 'Spectator.' 
 
 " ' Sir, — The well reading of the common prayer is of so great impor- 
 tance, and so much neglected, that I take the liberty to offer to your 
 consideration some particulars on that subject. And what more worthy 
 your observation than this? A thing so public, and of so high conse- 
 quence. It is indeed wonderful, that the frequent exercise of it should 
 not make the performers of that duty more expert in it. This inabiUty, 
 as I conceive, proceeds from the little care that is taken of their read- 
 ing while at school, where, when they are got into Latin, they are looked 
 upon as above English, the reading of which is wholly neglected, or, at 
 least, read to very little purpose, without any due observation made to 
 them of the proper accent and manner of reading. By this means they 
 have acquired such ill habits as will not easily be removed.' 
 
 " The writer of the letter then goes on to mention the advantage he 
 himself found, from being led in his devotions by an elegant performer 
 of the service at St. James's GarHck Hill church. 
 
 " ' My eyes and my thoughts,' says he, ' could not wander as usual, 
 but were confined to my prayers. The confession was read with such 
 a refined humility, the absolution with such a comfortable authority, the 
 thanksgivings with such a religious joy as made me feel those affections 
 of the mind in a manner I never did before. To remedy, therefore, 
 the grievances above complained of, I humbly propose that this excel- 
 lent reader, upon the next and every annual assembly of the clergy 
 at Sion College, and all other conventions, should read prayers be- 
 fore them. For then, those who are afraid of stretching their mouths, 
 and spoiling their soft voices, will learn to read with clearness, loudness, 
 and strength. Others, who affect a rakish, negligent air, by folding 
 their arms and lolling upon their book, will be taught a decent 
 behaviour. Those who read so fast as if impatient of their work, may 
 learn to speak deliberately. There is another sort, whom I call Pin- 
 daric readers, as being confined to no set measure. These pronounce 
 five or six words with great deliberation, and the five or six subsequent 
 ones with as great celerity; the first part of a sentence with a very 
 exalted voice, and the latter very low. Sometimes with one sort of 
 tone, and immediately after with a different one. These gentlemen vill 
 learn of my admired reader an evenness of voice and delivery. And all 
 who are innocent of these affectations, but read with such an indifferency, 
 as if they did not understand the language, may be informed of the art of 
 reading movingly and fervently, how to place the emphasis, and give 
 the proper accent to each word, and how to vary the voice according 
 to the nature of the sentence. There is certainly a difference between 
 reading a prayer and a gazette. These are often pretty classical 
 scholars, and would think it an unpardonable sin to read Virgil or
 
 3S2 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 Martial with as little taste as they do divine service.' — Spectator, No. 
 147. 
 
 " And the same standard author, in his 407th paper, complains as 
 follows : — 
 
 " ' Our preachers stand stockstill in the pulpit, and will not so 
 much as move a fing^ to set off the best sermons in the world. We 
 meet with the same speaking statues at our bars, and in all public places 
 of debate. Our words flow from us in a smooth, continued stream, 
 without those strainings of the voice, motions of the body, and majesty 
 of the hand, which are so much celebrated in the orators of Greece and 
 Rome. We can talk of life and death in cold blood, and keep our 
 temper in a discourse which turns upon everything that is dear to us. 
 
 " ' It is certain that proper gestures, and vehement exertions of the 
 voice, cannot be too much studied by a public orator. They are a kind 
 of comment upon what he utters, and enforce everything he says with 
 weak hearers ' [and surely the bulk of hearers are weak] ' better than 
 the strongest argument he can make use of. They keep the audience 
 awake, and fix their attention to what is delivered to them ; at the same 
 time that they show the speaker is in earnest, and affected himself with 
 what he passionately recommends to others. 
 
 " ' How cold and dead a figure in comparison of these two great men' 
 [Demosthenes and Cicero] 'does an orator often make at the British 
 bar, holding up his head with the most insipid serenity, and stroking the 
 sides of a long wig,' &c. 
 
 " Dean Swift (who was no friend to over-doing on the serious side) 
 advises a young clergyman as follows : — 
 
 " ' I take it for granted that you are already desirous to be seen in a 
 pulpit. But I hope you will think it prudent to pass quarantine among 
 the desolate churches five miles round this town, where you may at least 
 learn to read and speak, before you venture to expose your parts in a 
 city congregation. Not that these are better judges : but, because, if a 
 man must need expose his folly, it is more safe and discreet to do so 
 before few witnesses and a scattered neighbourhood. And you will do 
 well if you can prevail with some intimate and judicious friend to be 
 your constant hearer, and to beg of him to give you notice, with the 
 utmost freedom, of whatever he finds amiss either in your voice or 
 gesture. For want of such early warning, many clergymen continue 
 defective, and sometimes ridiculous, to the end of their lives. Neither 
 is it rare to observe, among excellent and learned divines, a certain 
 ungracious manner, or unhappy tone of voice, which they have never 
 been able to shake off.' — Letter to a Young Ciergy^mati. 
 
 "Are the faults complained of by these authors, who wrote almost 
 fifty years ago, amended, or likely to be amended ? Let the answer to 
 this question be collected from the following verses, by Dr. Byram, pre- 
 fixed to Fordyce's 'Art of Preaching,' published a few years ago. 
 
 " ' For, what's a sermon, good or bad, 
 If a man reads it like a lad?
 
 Lect. XXII.] . ON ELOCUTION. 383 
 
 To hear some people, when they preach, 
 How they run o'er all parts of speech, 
 And neither raise a word, nor sink ; 
 Our learned bishops, one would think, 
 Had taken schoolboys from the rod, 
 To make ambassadors of God.' 
 
 " And afterwards — 
 
 " ' In point of sermons, 'tis confest. 
 Our English clergy are the best : 
 But this appears, we must confess. 
 Not from the pulpit, but the press. 
 They manage, with disjointed skill. 
 The matter well, the manner ill ; 
 And, what seems paradox at first, 
 They make the best, and preach the worst.' " 
 
 It is far better that a sermon should consist of many thoughts, 
 enriched by appropriate illustrations and from which sound lessons in 
 religion and morality can be deduced, but close and compact in 
 construction and comparatively brief in length, than that it should be 
 an illustration of a few commonplace ideas spun out and elaborated in 
 long involved sentences, and weakened by diffuseness in composition, into 
 a lengthy, tedious discourse, wearisome to follow and difficult to under- 
 stand. An anecdote of a Bishop who administered a sharp rebuke to one 
 of his clergy, notorious for his long and tedious sermons, has been 
 amusingly told in lines written for "The Church of England Pulpit 
 and Ecclesiastical Review," by the Rev. Charles E. Tisdall,* D.D., 
 Chancellor of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, distinguished for his 
 pulpit oratory, and for the numerous effective readings, pathetic and 
 humorous, which he gives in aid of charitable institutions. I append 
 the verses, as they may serve to warn against the serious fault to which 
 I allude. 
 
 * Chancellor Tisdall was requested by the Moore Centenary Committee, of 
 which Sir John Banington, then Chief Magistrate of Dublin, was chairman, to recite 
 the Ode, "The Centenary of Moore," at the Exhibition Palace, Dublin, which he 
 did, May 28th, 1879, before an audience of 3000 people. In recognition of the masterly 
 style in which he delivered the classic lines specially written for him by Denis 
 Florence MacCarthy, Esq., M.R.I. A., he was presented with his portrait at a meet- 
 ing convened at the Mansion House, on the 14th of October in the same year, and 
 entertained by his Lordship at dinner to meet several of the contributors to the 
 picture. Many celebrities, distinguished in literature and art, were subscribers to 
 the "Tisdall Portrait Fund," and Mr. Henry Irving was among the earliest con- 
 tributors. In a work published in 1S70, " Notation of the Reading of the Liturg}' ; 
 A Guide in the Reading-Desk," by the late Robert James Ball, Professor of Elocution, 
 Dr. Tisdall is thus mentioned, page 133: "He is acknowledged by his clerical 
 brethren in Dublin to be one of the best liturgical readers of the day."
 
 384 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 LONG SERMONS. 
 
 AN EPISCOPAL CENSURE. AN OLD STORY IN A NEW VERSION. 
 
 A Parson oft his flock had bored 
 
 With sermons over long, 
 Till of the Bishop they implored 
 
 That he'd redress their wrong. 
 Then missives from the palace came — 
 
 Epistles not a few ; 
 The preacher droned on all the same, 
 
 And emptied many a pew ! 
 To hear him then his Lordship went, 
 
 But found him brief indeed — 
 The preacher, knowing his intent, 
 
 That Sunday "put on speed.'' 
 Determined he would not be balked 
 
 Of censuring the bore, 
 After the Priest the Bishop walked, 
 
 And shut the vestry door. 
 " A question plain," he thus began, 
 
 " I wish to ask of you : 
 Pray is it your accustomed plan 
 
 To gallop sermons through ? " 
 " My preaching long," the Parson said, 
 
 " My Lord, you'll never find ; 
 Of tedium I've a wholesome dread." 
 
 The Bishop then his mind 
 Spoke plainly — " Best the truth were out, 
 
 So frank I'll be with you : 
 Short the discourse you gave, no doubt, 
 
 But you were tedious too." C. E. T. 
 
 If written sermons be preached, in order to produce proper effect upon 
 a congregation, it is most essential that they should be really preached 
 and not merely read. In order to do this let the student acquire by 
 diligent practice the power of training the eye to take in, not merely 
 individual words, but groups or clauses of words, at each glance he 
 bestow's upon his manuscript sermon (and it is astonishing how much 
 by practice our visual organs may be made to accomplish in this respect), 
 and then, not with his eyes fixed on the page of his book, but 
 directed towards his congregation, speak to them the words, thus, as it 
 were, by him- momentarily learnt off by heart. The pauses, grammatical 
 and rhetorical, which divide such groups or clauses of words from each 
 other, will serve both rightly to divide the sentence into its proper 
 component parts, and afford the same opportunity in the music of 
 speech that the rests do in the music of song, of taking in the breath 
 quietly and fully, but at the same time inaudibly, as I have shown in
 
 lect. xxil] on elocution: 385 
 
 my Lecture on Respiration. Then, if the proper inflections and right 
 modulation of the voice be carried out, correct poise and emphasis be 
 given, and the other elements of elocution properly observed, and the 
 emphatic, referential, or other gesture, when appropriate and in good 
 taste, judiciously introduced, the preacher will really, if the composition 
 be good, make it what a sermon should be, an effective personal address 
 to every member of the congregation. As regards the composition and 
 delivery of sermons generally from a layman's point of view, I do not 
 think it would be possible for the clerical student to follow sounder 
 advice, or act upon more useful suggestions, than he will find in the 
 excellent address on this subject deUvered by Mr. Walter, M.P., on 
 December 2, 1879, and of which I append the full report given in the 
 " Times " of the following day. 
 
 A LAYMAN'S VIEW OF READING AND PREACHING. 
 
 " At the monthly meeting of the Church Homiletical ^ociety, held at the 
 Chapter House, St. Paul's Churchyard, yesterday, Mr. Cecil Raikes, M.P., 
 presiding, a lecture was delivered on ' Reading and Preaching from a 
 Layman's Point of View/ by Mr. Walter, M.P. After the usual devotional 
 exercises, the Chairman introduced the business of the meeting, remarking 
 that the object of that society was to improve the preaching in the Church 
 of England. It was sometimes alleged, but he hoped they did not admit, 
 that the preaching in that Church was bad. The position taken by that 
 society was that the preaching in the Church was so good that it v/as worth 
 improving, and their efforts were therefore directed towards that end. 
 Sermons were addressed to the most critical audience in the world, the 
 best educated of the laity. They were also addressed to an audience 
 which was not able to limit their duration, nor to reply to the propositions 
 advanced in them. All that tended to make sermons the butt of much 
 criticism, and often of much unjust and ungenerous criticism. There was 
 no doubt that the preaching of the Church of England, untrained as it was 
 for the most part, had yet contrived to keep a great hold on the nation 
 since the time of the Reformation. The most illustrious orator of our day 
 had lately been delivering a series of almost matchless orations to masses 
 of the population, and he had shown how for a week an immense number 
 of people might be enchained by the spell of such brilliant eloquence. But 
 no one contended that if those addresses were delivered for tluee hundred, 
 or even for thirty years, audiences would be got to listen to or to benefit 
 by them. The Church of England occupied a position of great authority, 
 which she had used exceedingly well both in regard to the force and the 
 moderation of her preaching ; but she had not, perhaps, the same special 
 training for preachers as other religious bodies possessed. The Noncon- 
 formist denominations had, as a rule, for their ministers men who sought 
 their profession from the consciousness that they had a peculiar gift for 
 preaching, and consequently for their audiences their preaching was effec- 
 tive and powerful. With the Church of England men were impelled to 
 enter her service by various causes, all tending to promote her success, 
 but not necessarily involving that great gift or an acquaintance with those 
 
 2 B
 
 386 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 principles on which good f)reaching depended. All honour, then, to that 
 society for offering to aid the younger men in fitting themselves for that 
 important part of their work, so that the clergy might shine in the pulpit 
 as it was universally acknowledged they shone in all the other functions of 
 their sacred office. He was sure they would all be glad to hear Mr. 
 Walter's views on that interesting subject. 
 
 " Mr. Walter said : When we consider how much the comfort of our 
 daily life depends upon the voice and manner of speech of those around us, 
 it is not unreasonable to suppose that the spiritual benefits which we are 
 intended to derive from the ordinances of reading and preaching God's 
 Word may be greatly promoted or impaired by the manner in which those 
 services are performed by the ministers of the Church. The subject, 
 therefore, would seem to be one of considerable interest both to laity and 
 clergy ; though, from a layman's point of view, I should say it hardly occu- 
 pies the place it deserves in a clergyman's education. The faculty of read- 
 ing, like that of writing, is too apt to be taken for granted ; little or no 
 attention is paid to it at school ; the very mode of construing and repeating 
 lessons, as usually practised, is calculated rather to injure than improve it ; 
 while the annual school speeches, which hand down the tradition of special 
 culture in this branch of education, too often afford painful evidence how 
 little either masters or boys are sensible of its importance. Unless, there- 
 fore, a boy has had the advantage of being taught to read well at home, or 
 is endowed with those gifts which sometimes make up for the want of it — 
 the gift of natural intelligence, combined with a good ear and a good 
 voice — he has little chance of improving his reading from the time he first 
 leaves home till he is called upon to read the Lessons in church, when he 
 becomes conscious for the first time that he is really playing upon an 
 instrument of which he knows neither the compass nor the power. In 
 Evelyn's Diary, August i6, 1691, I find this entry : — 'A sermon by the 
 curate — an honest discourse, but read without any spirit or seeming 
 concern : a great fault in the education of young preachers.' I will 
 venture to say that there is not one of those whom I have the honour 
 of addressing who has not made or listened to a similar remark, and 
 that among a large proportion of the younger clergy the art of reading, 
 as distinguished from the mere repetition of words, is unknown. Besides 
 the want of early and systematic training, there are other causes, both 
 moral and physical, which militate against good reading, and which cannot 
 always be remedied. 
 
 " I, The voice itself is an instrument which its owner can be taught to 
 manage within its proper compass, but of which he cannot materially alter 
 the quality or range. Hence, if its pitch be either too high or too low, 
 especially the former, it is difficult for him to adapt it to the requirements 
 of Scripture reading, which prefer the tenor and baritone to the alto or bass. 
 
 '• 2. There may be defects in the organs of sight, hearing, and speech 
 which art may palliate, but can never wholly overcome, and which are 
 fatal to good reading. 
 
 " 3. In spite of the narrow limits of our isle and its boasted civilisation, 
 there is no standard of pronunciation universally recognised, even in the 
 class of society from which the majority of the clergy come. We cannot
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 387 
 
 go far afield without having our ears offended by provincialisms, which 
 never sound more uncouth than when uttered from the lectern or pulpit, 
 and which are too apt to divert our thoughts from the message to the 
 reader or preacher who delivers it. We often wonder how it is that in 
 this vast exchange of human ideas and language the letter 'h' has never 
 yet found its proper value ; but the difficulty which seems to be experienced 
 in solving this apparently easy problem may serve to illustrate the tenacity 
 with which provincialisms cling to their respective localities and defy all 
 attempts to establish a uniform pronunciation of the mother tongue. 
 
 " 4. Another cause — of a moral rather than physical character — which 
 impedes good reading is nervousness ; a feeling which sometimes proceeds 
 from mere shyness or majivaise honte, sometimes from a painful sense of 
 one's own deficiencies, and which, in either case, it often requires years to 
 get over. "It is not every young curate who can safely apply to himself 
 St. Paul's saying to Timothy, ' Let no man despise thy youth ; ' and it may 
 well happen that many years and much searching of heart are necessary to 
 enable him to give due utterance to the warnings and foreshadowings of 
 the Old Testament and the ineffable mereies of the New. 
 
 " 5. Again, a very serious impediment to good reading is ignorance 
 of the subject one is reading about. To read Shakespeare or any of 
 our great poets or novelists well one must have thoroughly mastered, not only 
 their language and style, but also their moral purpose and the relationships 
 of the characters they bring on the stage in the poem or drama before us. 
 We must realise, for instance, if we have not experienced, the foolish fond- 
 ness of Lear ; the heartlessness of his elder daughters ; the unshaken 
 affection of the younger, whose ' voice was ever soft, gentle, and low ; ' 
 the brutal selfishness of Edmund, the avenging loyalty of Edgar — we must 
 have imbibed almost the very genius of the author before we can throw 
 his spirit into our reading and adopt his language as our own. And if this 
 be the case with profane literature, much more does it apply to Holy 
 Scripture, in which every chord of human sympathy is touched by a divine 
 hand, every character of life painted with an unerring pencil, every disease 
 of the soul detected and ministered to by an All-wise Physician. The 
 story of God's everlasting purpose in the creation and redemption of our 
 race is presented to us, as it were, in a series of tableaux, in which the 
 final triumph of good over evil is perpetually shadowed forth, while the 
 all-important fact of His personal Providence is illustrated by a variety of 
 episodes, like those of Joseph, of Job, of Daniel, of Elijah, in which we 
 seem still to recognise * the voice of God walking in the garden in the cool 
 of the day.' When we add to this the still more wondrous record of 
 God's manifestation in the flesh, in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and our own interest in that event ; how it has restored man to the image 
 of God and made this Hfe a school for immortality ; and when also we 
 bear in mind the power which our English version possesses of giving the 
 utmost effect to the recital of these records of which human language is 
 capable, it seems strange that good reading should be the exception instead 
 of the rule, and that so little pains should be taken to cultivate so powerful 
 an instrument of religious instruction. In old times the reading of Scripture 
 was recognised as part of the office of preaching, and is now, as the very
 
 388 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 term ' Scripture reader ' implies, held to be a subordinate branch of that 
 office. A well-read lesson is, indeed, a sermon in itself, and ' Scripture 
 itself,' says Hooker, ' is not so hard but that the only reading thereof may 
 give life unto willing hearers.' But perhaps the simplest explanation of 
 the phenomenon that good reading is so rare an accomplishment even 
 among the clergy, is to be found in the fact that it is not considered worth 
 their while to aim at it. The art of oratory is far less cultivated now than 
 in the palmy days of Greece and Rome, when public speaking monopolised 
 that control of public opinion which it now shares with the press, and 
 when literature, in the modern sense of the word, was wholly unknown. 
 The benefits which we derive from the inventions and appliances of modern 
 civilisation are not an unmixed gain. The use of note-paper and the steel 
 pen — the tools of the penny post — has tended to cramp and spoil our hand- 
 writing, and I have no doubt that the invention of printing, while it has 
 diffused and equalised the means of knowledge, has weakened the orator's 
 power and diminished the necessity for his existence. I am inclined to 
 believe that the art of reading, which is a branch of oratory, has suffered 
 from the same cause. In olden times, before the schoolmaster was 
 abroad, when the mass of the people were unable to read at all, and the 
 Church Bible was chained to the desk, it was a matter of vital importance 
 that the Scriptures should be read to the people in an earnest and impres- 
 sive manner. It was their only chance of becoming acquainted with their 
 contents and of having them impressed on their memory. In these days, 
 however, when it is considered the duty of all, not only to hear the Scrip- 
 tures, but to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, it may possibly be 
 thought superfluous to take much trouble about reading to the people what 
 they can very well read for themselves ; and thus the proverb, ' that what is 
 everybody's business is nobody's,' may receive an unexpected fulfilment 
 even at the lectern. I will conclude this part of the subject by pointing 
 out some of the means by which I think our public reading might be 
 improved. First, and foremost, the art of reading should be taught 
 and cultivated at home while the voice is flexible, while a child can 
 be more easily taught to recite from memory than to read from print, 
 and before he has contracted the habits of gabbling in ordinary talk and 
 sing-song in reading, which he is pretty sure to acquire at school, and of 
 which it is so difficult to cure him. In former times those who had to 
 gain their living by the use of their voice took no small pains to cultivate 
 it. 'Quid est oratori tarn necessarium,' says Ciero, 'quam vox.'' . . . 
 quse una maxime eloquentiam vel commendat, vel sustinet ; ' while he 
 goes on to complain that the young men of his day could not be induced 
 to give a fraction of the time to its cultivation which was bestowed upon 
 it in the schools of Greece, whose tragic actors, he says, ' et annos com- 
 plures sedentes declamitant, et quotidie, antequam. pronuntient, vocem 
 cubantes sensim excitant, eandemque, cum egerunt, sedentes ab acutissimo 
 sono usque ad gravissimum sonum recipiunt, et quasi quodammodo coUi- 
 gunt.' In the next place I would recommend the study of good models, 
 yet with the proviso that they be studied, not for the purpose of catching 
 their tone and manner, but for the purpose of learning the difference 
 between good reading and bad. In my Oxford days men used to attend
 
 Lect. XXIL] on elocution. 389 
 
 service at St. Mary's, in order to hear the Lessons read by John Henry 
 Newman, and a treat it certainly was. With a voice neither rich nor 
 powerful, but penetrating and plaintive, and modulated with the skill of a 
 consummate musician, he brought out the tones of Scripture with an unerr- 
 ing flow of rhythm which almost rose to melody, and which filled the soul of 
 the hearer with deeper sympathy with the pious resignation of Job, and 
 with loftier aspirations in unison with the sublime utterances of Isaiah. 
 
 " Such, at least, was the impression which Mr, Newman left on my mind 
 of his power as a reader ; but, like other great masters, he had his school 
 of imitators, who, in trying to copy him, acquired only the mannerism 
 without the genius, and were only laughed at for their pains. A man's 
 style of reading, therefore, should be the result of his natural powers, duly 
 cultivated, but not formed upon an ideal model, or it will lack the quality 
 of truth and simplicity which alone can give it due effect. Whether the 
 practice of intoning, now so much in vogue, is conducive to good reading, 
 is a point which ought to be well considered by young clergymen before 
 they adopt a fashion which they may find themselves unable to throw off 
 so easily as they can put it on, A man may intend only to intone the 
 prayers ; but by degrees the habit masters him, and his congregation dis- 
 covers, if he does not, that he is intoning the Lessons, which is intolerable. 
 I will only add that good reading, like every other good gift, confers a 
 double blessing, on the giver as well as on the receiver. There is no surer 
 way of impressing the truths of Scripture on one's own mind than by reading 
 them aloud to others. In the very act of doing so, passages often strike 
 us with a force which we have never felt before ; and thus, while striving 
 to edify others, we gain fresh spiritual strength or comfort for ourselves. 
 So much on the subject of reading. 
 
 " With regard to preaching, a layman in venturing to give his advice must 
 bear in mind that, though he may speak with the truthfulness and simpli- 
 city of a Gil Bias, he may have among his hearers an Archbishop of 
 Granada, and must be prepared for a moral, if not a physical, ejection from 
 the room. 'Judge not the preacher, for he is thy judge,' is one of those 
 counsels of perfection which few, it is to be feared, attain to, and it is only 
 with the view of making it more attainable by ordinary people that I would 
 dare to make any remarks upon preaching v/hich might appear to savour 
 of criticism. Dean Swift, in his letter to a young clergyman, advised him 
 to get ' some intimate and judicious friend to be his constant hearer, and 
 allow him with the utmost freedom to give him notice of whatever he finds 
 amiss either in his voice or gesture ; ' but I observe that the Dean does 
 not extend this freedom of criticism to the matter as well as to the delivery 
 of the sermon, and I therefore conclude that he knew that this would be an 
 ordeal too severe for human nature to bear. I cannot help thinking, how- 
 ever, that the want of some such purifying process in the education of a 
 young preacher is a serious loss to him. Consider the circumstances of his 
 position. From the time he takes holy orders, at the age of twenty-four 
 or twenty-five, till the time he takes his seat as a bishop in the House of 
 Lords, he is never under the fire of contradiction, except at a Church 
 Congress, or a Diocesan Conference, or possibly at home. He may say 
 what he pleases in the pulpit without fear of encountering that hostile
 
 390 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII, 
 
 criticism which awaits every otlier public speaker, whether in Parliament 
 or at the Bar, Hence he is sometimes tempted, like other privileged 
 persons, to express opinions which his mote experienced hearers know to be 
 wrong, but which they are not at liberty to challenge. He may palpably 
 misinterpret or misapply texts of Scripture — as probably most of us could 
 testify — or he may introduce political or scientific topics in terms which at 
 once plunge his hearers into the caldron of the Eastern Question or the 
 mazes of the Darwinian theory. In the meantime, the members of his 
 congregation whom he has thus unwittingly offended have nothing to do but 
 either nurse their wrath for an explosion as soon as they get out of church, 
 or, what is better, endeavour to learn that lesson of patience which George 
 Herbert prescribes as a sovereign remedy for sermons without sense. But 
 if the clergy, from this point of view, may be considered the spoilt children 
 of the learned professions, it must be confessed, on the other hand, that 
 they rarely abuse their privilege, and that they are more liable to err from 
 excessive reticence than from the opposite failing to which I have referred. 
 At the same time it might do no harm if the bishops sometimes reminded 
 the younger clergy in their charges that they are a privileged class; that 
 their exemption from criticism in respect of their pulpit oratory is a source 
 of temptation against which it behoves them to watch, and that as it is in 
 the highest degree indecorous in a layman to indulge in that habit of think- 
 ing aloud by which congregations are sometimes scandalised, so it is their 
 duty not to give occasion to such a scandal by using language in the pulpit 
 calculated to provoke it. It may savour of presumption for one who has 
 had no experience in the composition of sermons to lecture an assembly of 
 preachers on such a subject ; and, indeed, there is probably nothing new to 
 be said about it ; but I will endeavour to state some of the chief points 
 which appear to me to deserve the consideration of young preachers : — 
 
 " I. The object of a preacher should be to rivet the attention of his 
 hearers, to prevent them from going to sleep or thinking of other matters, 
 and to impress some moral or doctrinal truth on their minds. To effect 
 this, his manner must be impressive, serious, and earnest ; it must carry 
 with it the evidence of its own sincerity, and must proceed out of the 
 fulness of his heart. The secret of good preaching must be learnt, if I 
 am not mistaken, on the knees. It is only when a man has probed the 
 wounds of his own moral nature and found the remedy for them by 
 meditation and prayer that he will be able to minister to the spiritual 
 diseases of others : to ' read to them their thoughts,' as has been said by 
 a great master of the art, ' and comfort them by the very reading ; to tell 
 them what they know about themselves, and what they do not know ; 
 and make them feel that there is a higher life than this daily one, and a 
 brighter world than that they see,' 
 
 " 2. In preaching to a mixed congregation a clergyman should use 
 homely language, and not attempt a style above the capacity of his 
 hearers. In the words of a great master of English, ' a divine has nothing 
 to say to the wisest congregation of any parish in this kingdom which he 
 may not express in a manner to be understood by the meanest among 
 them.' In confirmation of this I will mention an anecdote which I heard 
 the other day of Archbishop Whately — that he made a point of submitting
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON elocution: 391 
 
 the proofs of any work which he proposed to publish to one of his 
 daughters, in order to ascertain whether its meaning was perfectly intel- 
 ligible, and whether it was possible to express it in clearer language. I 
 am not saying that it is wrong to address a learned audience in more 
 scientific language than would be suitable to a country congregation ; but 
 I have no doubt that even the magnificent university sermons of the late 
 Dr. Mozley could be translated into language which would make them 
 intelligible to the humblest audience ; and I think it would be a good 
 exercise for any young clergyman to try the experiment. 
 
 " 3. The parochial clergy may be described as the ' general practi- 
 tioners ' of their order. They bear the same relation and about the same 
 proportion to the clerical profession that the country doctors do to the 
 pure surgeons and the physicians in the sister art of medicine. It follows 
 that though there may be a large amount of general ability among them, 
 yet few may possess the peculiar qualities which can enable them to excel 
 as preachers. The weekly sermon is an operation requiring considerable 
 skill and experience ; and with the care and worry of a large parish, few 
 men can find time for sufficient study and meditation to keep them up to 
 the mark in that special branch of their calling. 'A preacher,' says Bishop 
 Bull, 'must have knowledge, not only to spend, but to keep ; not like those 
 that live from hand to mouth, or whose stock of knowledge is quickly spent 
 in a few sermons, but he must have something still reserved and laid up in 
 store.' A man must either keep sinking his well deeper, or pouring into 
 it fresh streams of knowledge, or he will soon find himself pumped dry, as 
 a young clergyman not long ago told me was the case with himself while 
 he recounted the hindrances to study which had beset him while a curate. 
 It is not my business to decide between the respective claims of public 
 worship and preaching, but I would put it to those whom it concerns 
 whether the frequent services which occupy so much of a clergyman's time 
 in our large towns are not responsible for a good deal of the inferior 
 preaching which prevails in those places. If no better remedy can be 
 found for this, I would suggest that clergymen should be given more 
 frequent opportunities of exchanging pulpits, so that they might devote to 
 the preparation of one sermon the time they usually bestow upon two. I 
 would also suggest the expediency of establishing an order of preachers, to 
 be appointed by the bishop, but not limited to particular dioceses, in order 
 that the great mass of churchgoers may have the benefit of an occasional 
 visit from some eminent preacher who can present old truths in a new 
 light, and perhaps awaken consciences which had slept under the drowsy 
 influence of too unvaried a strain. 
 
 " 4. I would strongly recommend young clergymen to keep as closely as 
 possible to the subject of their text, and develop its meaning, and endea- 
 vour to throw light upon it. A layman is apt to go away disappointed if 
 he finds that the text was only selected as a peg whereon to hang a dis- 
 course upon something quite different from the doctrine or practice it was 
 intended to enforce. I will give an example of what I mean. Once upon 
 a time — I will not say where — I was attending the service in one of our 
 cathedrals. The preacher chose for his text part of the epistle for the day, 
 taken from the third chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians: ' If there had
 
 392 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIl. 
 
 been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should 
 have been by the law,' and the following verse. Now this was a text, as 
 I think every one will admit, calculated to whet a hungry layman's appetite 
 and to raise his expectation to a considerable pitch. It is undoubtedly a 
 very suggestive as well as comprehensive text, embracing, as it does, the 
 whole of the relations between the old dispensation and the new. But I 
 doubt if it ever occurred to St. Paul that the chief use which a preacher 
 would one day make of this passage would be to show how wonderfully 
 appropriate was the position which the Epistles held in the English Prayer- 
 Book ; but this was literally all that I was able, with the utmost attention, 
 to gather from that sermon, and I need not say that I went away feeling 
 as empty as I came. I would also warn them against the too-common 
 mistake of perpetually harping upon some favourite doctrine and importing 
 it needlessly into almost every sermon. The constant attempt to enforce 
 particular doctrines, especially of a speculative or controversial character, 
 is apt to set the mind working in the opposite direction, and sometimes 
 produces the contrary effect to that contemplated by the preacher. A 
 remarkable instance of this is mentioned by Robert Hall. ' An excellent 
 man,' he says, ' was so impressed with the doctrine of the Divinity of 
 Christ that he made it the constant topic of his ministry. Every sermon 
 he preached was crowded with proofs or answers to objections relating to 
 this important topic, and the result was that most of his hearers became 
 Arians and Socinians.' 
 
 " 5. And lastly, I would recommend all clergymen to cultivate the habit 
 of speaking instead of reading their sermons. I am not advocating what 
 is called extempore preaching, because I cannot believe that any sermon 
 can require less preparation than an after-dinner speech ; and that, as 
 some of us know by experience, requires enough to spoil a good dinner. 
 But a preacher cannot keep his eyes constantly fixed upon his book, or 
 only raised from it at intervals, without losing that hold on his audience 
 which is only secured when eye, tongue, hand alike appeal to our hopes 
 and fears, and ' enforce attention like sweet harmony.' One has only 
 to imagine how an advocate would fare with a jury if he were to read a 
 written defence on behalf of his client, however cleverly prepared, in the 
 presence of a rival who used all the arts of a speaker to engage their 
 sympathy, in order to appreciate the difference between the two styles of 
 address. ' Verba enim neminem movent, nisi eum qui ejusdem linguae 
 societate conjunctus est ; sententiceque ssepe acutas non acutorum hominum 
 sensus pra;tervolant. Actio, qu£e prge se motum animi fert, omnes movet, 
 iisdem enim omnium animi moribus concitantur, et eos iisdem notis et in 
 aliis agnoscunt, et in se ipsi indicant' (Cic, De Or.). I fear, however, 
 that our pulpits themselves have something to answer for in this matter, 
 and that no great improvement in pulpit oratory is likely to occur till they 
 are altered, 1 will not go so far as to say what I once heard an American 
 preacher say, that ' pulpits were the invention of the devil ; ' but the fact 
 thus roughly expressed is that to be cabined, cribbed, confined in a wooden 
 or stone box a few feet above the ground, with a brass bookstand in front, 
 and a pair of candlesticks on each side, is not the most favourable position 
 for giving that full expression to the impulses of the soul which the attitude
 
 Lect. XXIL] on elocution. 393 
 
 of a preacher towards his hearers requires. For delivering a set of lectures 
 on some theological dogma or even for a bare exposition of Scripture, a 
 pulpit, or even a chair, may suffice ; but when speaking to the souls of 
 men it seems to me that the whole person of the preacher should be visible 
 to his congregation, or the effect must be that of a bust speaking rather 
 than a full-length figure. A clergyman told me the other day that the 
 pulpit in his church being under repair, they rigged up a platform on the 
 top of the pews, and that he found it a far more comfortable position for 
 preaching. But I have trespassed upon your attention too long, though 
 the subject is one which is worthy of far ampler treatment. I can only 
 plead, with the Roman orator, ' Hsec edidi, non ut volui, sed ut potui, et 
 ut me temporis angustis coegerunt.' 
 
 " On the motion of the Rev. Dr. Nolan, a vote of thanks was unani- 
 mously accorded to Mr. Walter for his admirable lecture. 
 
 " Mr. Walter having briefly acknowledged the compliment, the proceed- 
 ings closed with a vote of thanks to the Chairman." 
 
 So, too, the Earl of Carnarvon, at a recent Church Conference, speak- 
 ing generally on the subject of preaching, said at the close of his 
 address — 
 
 " Preaching in the early ages was not confined to the clergy. Up to the 
 tenth century, the monks, who did the most effective preaching, were not 
 in orders, and within the last few years lay readers had very wisely been 
 revived. In London, said the noble earl, and other large towns, there has 
 been an improvement of late years, and vast audiences are now gathered 
 together to hang on the lips of an eloquent preacher, where, till recently, 
 there was a sleepy service and congregation. I will venture to indicate 
 some few amongst many points to which I think attention may not unfitly 
 be devoted. He who is master of the art need not fear a comparison 
 with the best of extempore preachers. Melville always read his sermons, 
 yet so as to attract an overflowing congregation. I recommend the adop- 
 tion at times of the use of printed sermons, of which English theology 
 possesses splendid and noble compositions, wasted now to all but the 
 student. Speaking of extemporaneous preaching, and quoting authorities 
 for and against it, the noble earl said that extemporaneous preaching did 
 not save labour, for it required, if well done, more thought and preparation 
 than a written sermon. Whitfield prepared his discourses, Simeon used 
 to write his out half-a-dozen times, and thus could deliver them with perfect 
 ease and animation. Lord Carnarvon suggested the appointment of a 
 certain number of selected preachers qualified by study to preach. Roman 
 Catholics, Wesleyans, and Lutherans adopted such a system. The Con- 
 ference passed a vote of thanks to his lordship for his paper, and a resolu- 
 tion in favour of the views he had expounded."
 
 SUPPLEMENT TO LECTURE XXIL 
 
 S illustrations of modern pulpit oratory, well adapted from 
 their glowing and poetical language, striking imagery, and 
 general rhetorical character, to serve as selections for the 
 practice of the young clergyman or theological student in 
 sacred elocution, I give, as a supplement to my preceding 
 Lecture, a few passages from sermons preached by some of our most 
 eminent modern divines, whose fame as pulpit orators has reached 
 beyond the confines of the Churches to which they respectively belong. 
 In giving the following as illustrations well adapted for the practice of 
 the student in clerical elocution, my chief aim has been to present him 
 with passages which, from their impassioned or emotional character, call 
 into exercise the highest powers of a well-cultivated voice, and bring 
 into practical use all those principles which in their right application 
 constitute the effective preacher. 
 
 With the following words, Canon Liddon concluded a brilliant 
 discourse, at St. Paul's Cathedral, on the martyrdom of St. Stephen : — 
 
 " My brethren, this habit of thinking that you would do a great deal of 
 good if you were something else than what you are, is fatal to your doing 
 what you might do where you are. As a rule, men who do little in a 
 lower position would do less in a higher. The man who, wasting the one 
 talent, made the one talent the excuse, would have wasted the five. A life 
 which is spent in dreaming of what might be under other circumstances is 
 lost to acting for the best under the present circumstances. If Stephen 
 had said, ' If I were only in the place of Peter, I would dispute with the 
 Hellenists ; I would address the Sandhedrim ; I would die, if need be, as 
 a martyr for Christ,' he never would have done any one of these things. 
 He did what he could, where, and being what, he was. His real greatness 
 was altogether independent of his position. * * * * 
 
 " Men have asked why Christmas Day, of all the days in the year, 
 should be followed by the festival of the first Christian martyr, — the 
 birthday of the world's true King by the anniversary of a tragedy. The 
 answer is, surely, not far to seek, at least for any practical Christian. 
 Yesterday proclaimed a great Christian truth; to-day points the moral. 
 Brethren, the incarnation of the Son of God is not a speculation of the 
 understanding: it is a fact in history which has lessons for the heart. It 
 is, incomparably, the greatest fact in the history of our race; and, as sucli,
 
 Lect. XXII.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION: 395 
 
 it carries with it — it imposes in the sphere of duty — corresponding moral 
 consequences. If the Everlasting and the Almighty laid aside His glory to 
 enter into conditions of time, and to robe Himself in our frail human nature, 
 that He might, by His atoning death and by His gift of a new nature through 
 communion with Himself, recover us to God, surely it is no exaggeration 
 to say, in familiar words, that — 
 
 " ' Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
 That were an offering far too small : 
 Love so amazing, so divine, 
 Demands my soul, my life, my all.' 
 
 And Stephen, shedding his blood thus cheerfully and joyfully for the 
 Master who had redeemed him, shows what faith in an incarnate and 
 crucified God should ever mean for Christians. ' If He has done so much 
 for me, what can I possibly do for Him ? ' — that should be the keynote of a 
 Christian life. He may ask little or much; He may demand heroic sacri- 
 fices, or He may ask only for punctual attention to daily and prosaic duty; 
 but this is certain — that He has a right to make any demand He wills; 
 and it should be a point of honour with every Christian to satisfy Him. It 
 is this simple self-surrender in a spirit of love to God, and for the souls of 
 men, which makes life strong and noble, as was the life of St. Stephen. It 
 is this self-surrender which makes death, whenever or wherever it may come, 
 a falling asleep in Christ. 
 
 " Pray we, brethren, the Divine Child, born as at this time for us, that we, 
 being regenerate and made His brethren, and our Father's children by 
 adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by His Holy Spirit, so that for 
 us, as for St. Stephen and for Stephen's greater pupil, to live may be 
 Christ, and to die our gain." 
 
 The following noble passages occur in one of Canon Liddon's 
 discourses, preached at St. Mary's, Oxford, in 1877 : — 
 
 " How did the Gospel look when placed in juxtaposition with the popular 
 sentiment of the greatness of Rome? If it had yet been heard of in the 
 upper circles of the imperial city, how did men think of it ? What 
 did they say of it ? Was it not relatively to everything in the great capital, 
 as far as the natural senses and judgment of man could pierce, poor and 
 insignificant ? The best informed, who deigned, now and then, to 
 bestow a thought upon the morbid fancies of the Eastern world, could have 
 distinguished in it only a rebellious oft"-shoot from the most anti-social and 
 detested religion in the empire ; it was itself an ' exitiabilis superstitio,' 
 and had about it a touch of inconsequence and absurdity from which 
 Judaism was free." ..." If Christianity meant to propagate itself, where 
 was its organization ? How could the government of a few unnoticed con- 
 gregations enter into any sort of rivalry with the mighty system of the 
 imperial rule .'* To what could it point in the way of literature, at least 
 so far as the literary public knew } How could it compete with the genius 
 of poets and historians who had the ear of the world ? What was the 
 capacity of its leading men, at least in public estimation, when set side
 
 396 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lkct. XXII. 
 
 by side with the accomplished statesmen who had erected and who still from 
 time to time ruled the empire ? Well might it have seemed that Rome, the 
 centre of imperial life, must bring the infant Church to bay ; Rome must 
 teach it to measure itself by other standards than any which could be 
 supplied by a remote Asiatic province. Rome must overawe by the 
 magnificence of its collective splendours the pretensions of any system or 
 teaching, coming forth from some obscure corner of the empire on a mission 
 to illuminate and to change the world." ..." St. Paul was well aware of 
 the insignificance of the Gospel, and of the insignificance of the Church, 
 when measured by ordinary human standards. This very insignificance is 
 power. It was his own observation that 'not many wise men after the 
 flesh, not many mighty, not many noble,' are called to take their places in 
 the kingdom of the Redemption. But then, in his estimate of the relative 
 value of the seen and the unseen, of the Divine and the human, of nature 
 and of grace, this very insignificance is power : ' God hath chosen the foolisli 
 things of the world to confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak 
 things of the world to confound the things which are mighty ; and the base 
 things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, 
 and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are : that no flesh 
 should glory in His presence.' There was nothing in the glories of 
 Rome to arrest the exclamation, ' I am not ashamed of the Gospel of 
 Christ!'" 
 
 Preaching at the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, on the text : " The people 
 gathered themselves unto Aaron, and said unto him. Up ! make us 
 gods which shall go before us : for as for this Moses — the man that 
 brought us up out of the land of Egypt — we wot not what is become 
 of him " (Exod. xxxii. i), the Bishop of Peterborough, the eloquent 
 Dr. Magee, said — 
 
 "Yes, there are not wanting signs in the world — there are not wanting 
 signs in our own country, although they are not yet so loud or so noisy as 
 to compel the attention of all men — there are not wanting signs that a god- 
 less nation, or a degraded and a debased one, has to dread at last that 
 cleansing fire and sword that are the avenging judgments of God upon the 
 nation that has cast off His faith and that has denied His law. 
 
 "And so, brethren, we learn, surely, from this story of sacred history long 
 ago that there is, in the midst of us, still the same justice of Divine pro- 
 vidence. We learn — and all human history has been teaching us from 
 that day to this — that this terrible drama re-enacts itself with infallible 
 certainty in each of its acts, — that, when the nation begins by casting off 
 its faith and ceasing to believe in the invisible, it degrades itself to the sen- 
 suous worship and enjoyment of the visible, and that then there is no check 
 for all those underground fires and forces which threaten even to work their 
 way up and to destroy society, — that there is no check for this but brute 
 force ; and then the question is woe for the weakest and well for the 
 strongest. And so ever does the false faith lead to the foul life, and ever 
 is the foul life cleansed by the terrible judgments of God. 
 
 "My brethren, in these days when men, in the name of free thought, defy 
 
 i
 
 Lect. XXIL] on elocution. 397 
 
 authority, and in the name of philosophy reject the older philosophy, and 
 the deeper and the truer teachings that they can find in their Bibles — in 
 these days when we priests and prophets are invited, not in wrath at men's 
 sins, but in very feebleness and helplessness, to let fall the tables of the law 
 and see them broken at our feet, — in these days when the cry is still, ' As 
 for these stories of the divine law, and as for this story of a divine and 
 incarnate Teacher and Mediator, we wist not what has become of these : give 
 these up and go with us, and we will give you of these ornaments, and you 
 shall make gods for us, and we shall go together to the banquet that life 
 sets before us,' — in these days, more than ever, is needed a heart wakeful 
 to listen to the utterances from the mount where, invisible yet surely, 
 there is enthroned the Giver of all law — the Teacher of all truth. May 
 we, each one of us, lay to heart the lessons that are taught us in this 
 inspired story of how God dealt with the nation of old in the way of teach- 
 ing and of judgment, for all these things happened to them for examples. 
 May God give us grace to shun the sin of national idolatry, and so may He 
 preserve us from the suffering of national judgment." 
 
 The same distinguished speaker — Dr. Magee, when Rector of 
 Enniskillen — thus concluded a lecture on " Scepticism," delivered before 
 the Young Men's Christian Association in Dublin in 1863 : — 
 
 " Be sure of this, that no part of your belief is really yours, save that by 
 which you live — that which has wrought itself into all your life, and struck 
 its roots into all your being. . . Live your faith ; live it until you feel it is 
 your life ; live it so that all men may see how it is your life. So shall you 
 not only learn evidences, but be evidences ; so shall you oppose to the doubt 
 of unbelief, from within and from without, the one perpetual miracle of 
 the Church of Christ, the spiritual resurrection and ascension of the soul ; 
 so shall you establish the one unanswerable, all-convincing proof of a 
 supernatural religion, the presence of supernatural grace. I cannot but 
 hope and believe that this will be the good that God purposes to give 
 to His church by this trial through which He calls her now to pass. The 
 tires of unbelief, like those of martyrdom, purify the Church. The storm 
 that sweeps the dead wood from the forest, roots deeper the living trees ; 
 and ever, as it strains and tosses them to and fro, sends the life-giving sap 
 through all their branches. And though, as the tempest rages at its 
 highest, we start and tremble as we see some mighty branch ' snap in the 
 rushing of the river-rain ; ' yet when 
 
 " ' The storm, its burst of passion spent, 
 Moaning and calling out of other lands, 
 Has left tlie ravaged woodland yet once more 
 To peace ' — 
 
 as we see how the ' forest of our Carmel ' still stands, though storm-swept, 
 yet not overthrown, its stately forest-trees still beautiful and strong, deep 
 rooted in the soil, and, beneath their shade, the forest flowers, the humble, 
 hidden forms of grace and beauty which they shade, lifting up their heads 
 again to drink the light and glisten with the dews of heaven ; aye, and as 
 we see how, ever from the roots of many a broken stem, not dead though
 
 398 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 wounded nigh to death, there spring the young fresh shoots of a new and 
 vigorous life ; we shall see that even the storm and the tempest may be 
 God's messengers, and that ' He holdeth still the winds in the hollow of 
 His hand.'" 
 
 Dr. Trench (now Archbishop of Dublin) famous for the elegance of 
 his diction, as well as for the extent of his learning, said, when preach- 
 ing before the University of Cambridge : — 
 
 " Nor may we suppose that darkness, spiritual darkness at least, is a 
 mere absence of light. It is in itself an evil power and presence in the 
 soul. There is and there can be no vacuum in the heart of man. What 
 the truth does not fill, lies v/ill fill. Who does not obey the one, must obey 
 the other. They are Satan's slaves who will not be Christ's freemen, and, 
 in one shape or another, they must do his work and receive his wages. It 
 was boldly said by one of old, ' All the way to heaven is heaven,' perhaps 
 over-boldly said by one who forgot, for a moment, what life has of burden 
 and toil even for the faithful man. And yet these words have their truth, 
 and being true they are true also in their converse. And if all the way to 
 heaven is heaven, God blessing even now with infinite blessings His 
 servants who walk in that way, so too, which is the same truth on its 
 sadder and sterner side, all the way to hell is hell. 
 
 " ' Vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus Orel 
 Luctus et ultrices posueie cubilia Curse 
 Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque seiiectus.' 
 
 " In that ^forlorn ' old age how powerfully does the great religious poet of 
 Rome put the last terrible touch to his picture, in that single epithet sum- 
 ming up all — the life which is life no longer, the vita non vitalis^ in which 
 all the springs of joy are dried up, in which the man has overlived himself, 
 his joys (and what, perhaps, is sadder still), even his sorrows; — the life, it 
 may be, which, in its outward desolation and abandonment, without honour, 
 without love, is only too faithful an index of that which is within ; — the life 
 from which all the grace and ornament of life has departed, till he that 
 bears it is now weary of it, and desires only to creep by obscure and narrow 
 passages to his grave ! 
 
 " Be it ours, brethren, to make this glorious promise, * He that followeth 
 Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life,' our own. 
 For to have the light of life, what is it ? It is to be in fellowship with Him 
 who is at once the Light and the Life of men, and in this fellowship to 
 become more and more a child of light for whom ' the darkness is now past ' 
 — the darkness of a selfish, a proud, an unholy heart — and for whom the 
 ' true light ' now shineth. That light thou mayest make, if thou wilt, more 
 and more thine own, mayest clothe thyself with it, till it be to thee an 
 ' armour of light,' at once a ' sun and a shield,' a glory and a defence. Arrayed 
 in this thou mayest pass unharmed through all the temptations of this 
 world till thou, being brought at length into a ' meetness for the inheri- 
 tance of the saints in light,' shalt stand within the gates of that heavenly 
 city which ' needeth neither sun nor moon,' for the 'glory of the Lord doth 
 lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.' "
 
 Lect. XXII.] ON ELOCUTION. 399 
 
 Dr. Trench delivered also this forcible passage at the close of a 
 sermon on the Atonement : — 
 
 " Will any faith which is short of this faith satisfy the deepest needs 
 and cravings of your souls ? You may struggle against it with your under- 
 standings (though I think very needlessly, for it seems to me to approve 
 itself to the reason and the conscience quite as much as to demand accept- 
 ance of our faith), but you will crave it in your inmost spirits. There are 
 times when, perhaps, nothing short of this will save you from a hopeless 
 despair. Let me imagine, for example, one, who with many capacities for 
 a nobler and purer life, and many calls thereunto, has yet suffered himself 
 to be entangled in ' youthful lusts,' has stained himself with these, and then 
 after a while awakens, or rather is awakened, by the good Spirit of God, 
 to ask himself, What have I done ? How fares it with him at the retrospect 
 then, when he is made to possess (oh fearful possession !) the sins of his 
 youth ? Like a stricken deer — though none but himself may be conscious 
 of his wound, he wanders away from his fellows ; or, if with them, he is 
 alone amongst them ; for he is brooding still and ever upon the awful 
 mystery of evil which he now too nearly knows. And now too all purity — 
 the fearful innocence of children, the holy love of sister and of mother, and 
 the love which he had once dreamed of as better than these, with all which 
 is supremely fair in nature or in art, comes to him with a shock of pain, 
 is fraught with an infinite sadness : for it wakens up in him by contrast a 
 livelier sense of what he is, and what, as it seems, he must be for ever — 
 it reminds him of a paradise for ever lost, the angel of God's anger guard- 
 ing with a fiery sword its entrance against him. He tries, by a thousand 
 devices, to still, or at least to deaden, the undying pain of his spirit. What 
 is this word ' sin ' that it should torment him so .'* He will tear away the 
 conscience of it — this poisonous shirt of Nessus, eating into his soul — 
 which, in a heedless moment, he has put on. But no, he can tear away 
 his own flesh, but he cannot tear away that. Go where he may, he still 
 carries with him the barbed shaft which has pierced him — 
 
 " ' haeret later! letalis arundo ' — 
 
 the arrow which drinks up his spirit. There is no sovereign dittany 
 that will cause it to drop from his side — none, that is, which grows on 
 earth \ but there is which grows in Heaven — and in the Church of Christ, 
 the heavenly enclosure here. And you too, if such a one be among us, 
 may find your peace ; you will find it when you learn to look by faith on 
 Him, 'the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.' You 
 will carry, it may be, the scars of those wounds which you have inflicted 
 upon yourself, to your grave, but the wounds themselves He can heal, and 
 heal them altogether. He can give you back ' the years which the canker- 
 worm hath eaten,' the peace which your sin had chased away, and as it 
 seemed to you for ever. ' Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean — 
 wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow ; ' — this will be then your prayer; 
 and this your prayer shall be fulfilled. ' The blood of sprinkling ' will 
 purge, and you will feel yourself clean. Your sin will no longer be 
 yourself You will be able to look at it as separated from you, as laid
 
 400 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXII. 
 
 upon another, upon One so strong that He did, but for a moment, stagger 
 under the weight of a world's sin, and then so bore, that bearing He has 
 borne it away for ever." 
 
 The following is the eloquent peroration of a sermon on " The 
 Spiritual Benefits of Retrospection," preached from Deuteronomy iv. 
 9, by the Rev. Chancellor Tisdall, D.D,, in Christ Church Cathedral, 
 Dublin, and reported in "The Church of England Pulpit and Ecclesi- 
 astical Review" — " Lest thou forget the things which thine eyes have 
 seen : " — • 
 
 " If those so addressed could refer their children to the past for lessons 
 of spiritual wisdom, they who are living under the ' new and better 
 covenant ' cannot fail to find counsels, in the retrospect of their experience, 
 to impress upon youthful minds. Of many things * which their eyes 
 have seen ' may they speak, by way of admonition, upon the one hand, 
 and of encouragement, upon the other. They may tell how they 
 have seen evidences, that the fond hopes of religious parents can be 
 blighted by the ungodliness of children, how they have seen health shat- 
 tered by intemperance, brilliant prospects clouded by yielding to the allure- 
 ments of a world at enmity with God ! They may tell how they have 
 witnessed exemplifications of the truth of those words quoted by an inspired 
 Christian teacher from a heathen author, ' Evil communications corrupt 
 good manners ; ' how from one stage to another of the downward course 
 the infatuated victims of excess have gone, until they rivalled in vice the 
 most abandoned of their associates. Or they may turn from painful to 
 pleasurable reminiscences. They may tell of instances of the beneficial 
 results of ' the nurture and admonition ' in which children were brought 
 up to live for Christ. They may speak of homes lightened by the joy 
 imparted to souls influenced by the grace of God. They may speak, too, 
 of what ' their eyes have seen ' in chambers of sickness, when the ' time 
 of departure was at hand ; ' when proof was given, amidst the acute suf- 
 ferings which often attend the approach of dissolution, that the departing 
 felt ' the Eternal God ' to be indeed a ' refuge,' and that ' underneath ' 
 feeble, prostrate, sinking humanity were outstretched ' the everlasting 
 arms ; ' that ' no evil was apprehended in the valley of the shadow of 
 death,' because ' the rod and the staff' of superhuman help were present to 
 ' comfort.' They may tell how in no doubtful death, but in one of well- 
 grounded hope of a glorious resurrection, the servant of Christ ' fell 
 asleep ' in Him ; how, as the ' outward ' man lay perishing the ' inward ' was 
 ' renewed ; ' how, in the solemn moments of nature's weakness, there was 
 absence of fear ; how the stern necessity of dying was not regarded as 
 such, but accepted with thankfulness ; how the enemy was considered to 
 be doing the work of a friend, ' delivering out of the miseries of a sinful 
 world,' consigning to a state of security the soul, to remain in the safe 
 keeping of Him who shall yet enshrine those of all the faithful in bodies 
 fashioned like unto His own, ' according to the mighty working whereby 
 He is able to subdue all things unto Himself ! ' Turn, then, for instruc- 
 tion to the past, to the dealings of the All-wise with the Church, and
 
 Lect. XXIL] on elocution. 401 
 
 with yourselves as her members, and teach your descendants to make a 
 Hke practical use of what may be gathered from the retrospect. The 
 richest heritage to which they can succeed, after you have been laid 
 in the grave, is the memory of your consistency, of your readiness to 
 labour in the cause of Him, who is ' made unto all ' who truly believe 
 upon Him 'wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption.' 
 See that, whether or not you have the ability to leave them earthly trea- 
 sure, you bequeath them an example of the influence upon your lives of that 
 faith which ' purifies the heart, overcomes the world, and works by love.' 
 Teach them, by precept and example, to live mindful of their Baptismal 
 vows, and then, good reason indeed will they have to think and to speak of 
 you with reverence, and even with commendable pride — the pride thus 
 finely described in the lines of a Christian poet — 
 
 " * My boast is not that I deduce my birth 
 
 From loins enthroned, the rulers of the earth, 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise, 
 The son of parents — passed into the skies.' " 
 
 When preaching at a " Harvest Thanksgiving Festival," the same 
 preacher thus spoke of Christian gratitude — 
 
 " While, by a thankful use of ' the means of grace,' the character essen- 
 tial to the enjoyment of heavenly felicity is formed, it is experienced that 
 present rewards attend the exercise of this spirit of thankfulness. There 
 is a happiness associated with the exertion of those powers which a 
 grateful sense of the divine mercies brings into action. There is * the 
 answer of a good conscience toward God.' There are foretastes, in the 
 pleasure of being empowered to please Him, of that joy which grateful 
 natures shall hereafter experience when there shall be poured out upon 
 them in a measure in which they could not be capable of receiving it in 
 the present life, ' the spirit of praise.' It may well be believed that, when 
 a condition of imperfection shall have been exchanged for one in which no 
 trace of it shall remain, the sense of thankfulness shall become intensified, 
 that as the ' children of light ' survey the ineffable splendours of their por- 
 tion, and think of the unassailable security of the inheritance which they 
 have reached, they shall be conscious of an ever-growing love towards Him 
 for the sake of whose merits they were accounted worthy to enter upon it — 
 that they shall ever deepen in gratitude to Him ' who, for the joy that was 
 set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame ; ' that as their cup 
 of bliss overflows, they shall feel that it is theirs, because there was mingled 
 for Him a cup of such anguish that He prayed that ' if it were possible, it 
 might pass from Him ; ' that their crowns are radiant, because upon His 
 sacred brow there was placed, in derision, one ' platted of thorns,' that they 
 are partakers of endless felicity, because, as the ' Captain ' of their ' salva- 
 tion,' He, that ' many sons ' might be ' brought to glory,' was ' made perfect ' 
 ' through sufferings.'" — Extracted from vol. viii., No. 204, of The Chttrch 
 of Englatid Pulpit and Ecclesiastical Review, 
 
 2 C
 
 LECTURE XXIII. 
 
 Public Speaking as regards the professional duties of the Barrister or Advocate — 
 Addressing Juries — Common Juries and Special Juries — Addressing the Court — 
 Arguing in Banco — Suggestions in reference to the Preparation of Legal Arguments 
 — The Senate — Speaking in Parliament — Business Speeches — Orations — Mr. Glad- 
 stone's Opinions on the Training best adapted to form good Speakers — Opening 
 Speech on a Motion of Importance — The Debate — The Reply — Speeches at Elec- 
 tions — Open-air Speaking generally — Injurious Effects often felt by Untrained 
 Speakers — How to Speak in the Open-Air audibly, distinctly, and with comparative 
 personal ease and comfort. 
 
 |N this Lecture my chief object will be to offer a few brief 
 suggestions to students who intend to make the Bar their 
 future profession, though I hope to touch on a few other 
 topics. In the Pulpit of the Church of England there is 
 no absolute necessity for a man being skilled at all in the 
 art of extempore speaking. He may write his sermon out at full length, 
 and if an able and powerful discourse as regards its composition, and 
 read effectually by one who has well studied and practised the art of 
 reading aloud, a sufficiently powerful effect will be produced. But it is 
 very different at the Bar. Here a man must, unless it is his intention 
 to confine himself to what is called "chamber practice," know some- 
 thing of the art of extempore speaking. A speech carefully written out 
 and read by an advocate would no more be tolerated in any of our 
 courts of justice than it would be in a member in the Senate. The 
 only extraneous aid the barrister can have recourse to in the course of 
 his address to the court or jury consists in the instructions contained in 
 his brief, the notes he may have made, and the suggestions or reminders 
 that may from time to time be tendered him by the other counsel who 
 are associated with him in the cause. The facility of extempore speech 
 is therefore one of the greatest advantages an advocate can possess. 
 
 I will assume, then, that the student has, by carrying out some of the 
 suggestions I have already given in preceding Lectures, or by other 
 means, acquired some skill in the art of clothing his thoughts in language 
 on the spur of the moment, and has also gained some little confidence 
 and self-possession by practising at debating societies or other places, 
 where he could find an opportunity, by occasionally speaking. And
 
 Lect. XXIIL] ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 403 
 
 here at the outset let me say a word by way of warning. Debating 
 societies are all very well in their way for the purposes I have alluded 
 to; but the style of language, and the manner of delivery, which one 
 too commonly meets with at debating societies, would only be laughed 
 "at at the bar, and expose the young advocate to ridicule. Before I 
 received my present appointment here, and devoted myself exclusively 
 to my present vocation as a Lecturer and Teacher of the Art of PubHc 
 Reading and Speaking, I followed the profession of the Bar, and went 
 on circuit and sessions for several years, and carefully noted all I saw 
 and heard in Westminster Hall as well as at assizes in the country ; and 
 certainly the experience I thus gained, enables me to say that the first 
 aim of the young barrister should be to study to make his language 
 clear, simple, and pure, and his manner earnest and impressive. Any- 
 thing like grandiloquence, declamation, poetical flights, and rhetorical 
 appeals, should, as a general rule, be most strictly avoided. The 
 modern taste and general tone of thought and feeling in our English 
 courts of justice are utterly opposed to all useless, declamatory froth, 
 and mere rhetorical display. It is only on very rare occasions that the 
 circumstances of a case afford any just ground for what would be 
 termed any of the higher flights of eloquence. Perspicuity of language 
 and earnestness of manner are in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred 
 the chief requisite in an advocate's address. Remember there is 
 scarcely any, if any, branch of public speaking in which so complete 
 a negation of all apparent mere self-display is so imperatively required 
 as at the English bar. The advocate speaks not for himself, but for 
 the client whom he represents, and his object is, or should be, in his 
 speech to promote to the very utmost of his power, consistently with 
 the general principles of morality, the advantage of his client ; and the 
 interests of his client are served only by what will persuade the jury or 
 convince the court. 
 
 A very little experience in attending the Nisi Prius and Criminal 
 Courts in London and the provinces, will show you how much common 
 juries differ in character from each other. A skilled advocate is usually 
 a tolerably good physiognomist, and so accustomed to read character in 
 a great degree from the expression of the countenance. The superior 
 mind will in general control or influence the inferior, and your aim as an 
 advocate must be to persuade at all events the former. How can you, 
 then, best discover the superior minds amongst the jury who will have to 
 give their verdict for or against your client ? As I have said already, 
 the characteristic expression which nature stamps upon the countenance 
 is, in general, a pretty sure index to the mental qualities within ; but do 
 not judge by the first glance you take at the twelve men on whom the 
 verdict of the case depends. Watch them closely during the progress 
 of the cause — see how they note, or are affected by, the examination or 
 cross-examination of the various witnesses. If they desire any questions 
 to be put to the witnesses, mark who are the jurymen who do so, and the 
 relevancy or irrelevancy of such questions. All these hints will aid you 
 in finding out who are the intelligent and who are the stupid, who are 
 the obstinate and who most easily impressed, who are calm and patient.
 
 404 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIII. 
 
 and who hasty, impetuous, or prejudiced. Finding as far as possible 
 what are the mental characteristics of the persons whom you have to 
 address, your aim must be so to frame your speech that not merely the 
 intelligent and patient, but all, may be in the end persuaded or convinced 
 of the truth and justice of your client's case. 
 
 In addressing common juries, especially on circuit and at country 
 sessions, I feel assured that the mistake is often committed by young 
 and inexperienced advocates of using a style of language above that of 
 the ordinary use or comprehension of the persons whom they address. 
 If I may use the metaphor, he fails to hit because he shoots over their 
 heads. The language the advocate should study to employ on all such 
 occasions should be marked, as much as possible, by simplicity and purity, 
 and the more he eschews in his speech long or high-sounding words, of 
 Latin derivation, and uses instead, wherever possible, synonyms of Anglo- 
 Saxon origin, the more readily will his uncultivated hearers follow him 
 in his address and be able to comprehend his meaning. It requires but 
 little practice and experience in our courts to see if a jury understand 
 you. I think I may say you will very soon intuitively 7^1?/ whether they do 
 so or not. There is a certain look of intelligence and attention, even on 
 the face of the most obtuse, that tells us whether the words we utter are 
 conveying definite ideas to the minds that we address, or whether they 
 are sounds, and sounds only, which awaken no interest or sympathy. 
 If possible, make yourself understood by all, by the most stupid as well 
 as the most intelligent of the twelve men in the box before you ; secure 
 and retain their attention as far as you can w-hile you are laying all you 
 have to say before them, and endeavour to close your address before 
 signs of weariness and impatience show that their powers of attention 
 are nearly exhausted. 
 
 With all popular audiences, but more especially with common juries 
 in London and the provinces, inatine?-, I am certain, goes a great way ; 
 argument in such cases will often be comparatively wasted, but never 
 manner. An appearance of confidence in your client's case, an air of 
 good temper, thorough command over yourself in all emergencies, and 
 unexpected turns the case may take, are half the battle with such classes 
 of hearers. The. facts in support of your client's case presented in the 
 strongest and most favourable light, plenty of illustrations, and, when 
 fitting, enlivened by wit, humour, or anecdote, all form powerful weapons 
 in dealing with a common jury in civil or in criminal courts. 
 
 With a special jury it is different ; and both matter and manner must 
 be adapted to hearers of a superior class of life, wider experience, and 
 higher education, and all that I can say may be summed up in a very 
 few words. Deal with them as you would with any number of gentle- 
 men in the same position of life with yourself. A certain amount of 
 deference in manner with an audience of a superior class is always, I 
 think, judicious, especially at first, but still you may combine with it 
 perfect freedom from all restraint, and, in fact, address them just as 
 a gentleman would address gentlemen. But to know when you have 
 «aid enough on any topic in your speech, and when to sit down, is an 
 art no less valuable to be acquired in addressing special juries, as in
 
 Lkct. XXIIL] ON ELOCUTION. 405 
 
 speaking to the inferior mind and uncultivated intelligence that usually 
 characterise a common jury. 
 
 But now I come to a very different sphere of your professional 
 duties ; I mean that of carrying on an argument in Banco as it is techni- 
 cally called, or addressing the Court, that is, the judge or judges only. 
 These occasions require a very different tone and manner to that which a 
 counsel would adopt when addressing a jury, whether special or common, 
 and the difference must be always borne in mind. When you address a 
 jury, it may be assumed in general that you are speaking to a body of 
 men, neither well acquainted with the law, nor trained to the logical 
 process of carrying out an argument and drav/ing strict or necessary 
 conclusions. But it is a wholly different matter when you address your- 
 self to the judges that form the Court, whether of law or equity. Here 
 you speak to intellects greater than your own, more experienced in all 
 the subtleties and nice distinctions of legal argument, of wider reading 
 and longer practice in their profession than the majority of the barristers 
 who address them can possibly pretend to possess. In addressing a 
 jury, especially a common jury, it may be often necessary to go more 
 than once over the same ground, to present the same topic under 
 various aspects, and to resort to such other means as will enable you, in 
 your opinion, eventually to enlighten the dullest man before you, and 
 remove the prejudices of the most obstinate. But all this recapitula- 
 tion and variety of treatment and illustration would, in addressing the 
 Court, be worse than useless. Here your chief aims must be a clear 
 and logical arrangement of thoughts, perspicuity of language, and con- 
 densation of important facts and arguments, supported by cases and 
 authorities of weight that bear directly on the points you are discuss- 
 ing. I do not say that the aids which the study of elocution can give 
 are to be neglected here, for all the graces of voice and manner which 
 are appropriate to such occasions cannot but increase the effect of 
 what you are saying if it be sound and good ; but still here, undoubtedly, 
 the manner is quite secondary to the matter. The Court has not to be 
 persuaded like a jury, but to be convinced, and the soundness of your 
 argument, and the logical coherence of reasoning from premises to con- 
 clusions, are the main things to be attended to in the course of your 
 address. I think the suggestion I have offered before when treating of 
 the construction of speeches in general, the young barrister will find 
 useful here, viz., before addressing the Court to set down on paper an 
 outline of the arguments he intends to use, logically arranged in the 
 order in which he proposes presenting them to the Court, with the 
 names of the cases and the books where they are to be found written 
 in the margin opposite those portions in the chain of argument on 
 which they particularly bear. This analytic sketch of the argument will 
 enable the young counsel to test, in no small degree, its soundness and 
 coherence, and at the same time serve to keep him from wandering 
 away into digressions that do not bear upon the questions at issue. 
 The sketch of the argument should be written clearly, and the various 
 heads and subdivisions duly classified and marked with numbers, so 
 that the eye may readily fall upon them, and find in a moment what is
 
 406 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIII. 
 
 wanted. I need hardly say that whilst the language should be terse 
 and perspicuous, the manner should be calm, quiet, and deferential, 
 as it naturally ought to be in addressing men eminent in station and 
 character, and distinguished by learning and ability. 
 
 I pass on now to a subject on which I can necessarily touch but 
 very briefly, and on which I can only pretend to offer the result of the 
 experience of others — I mean, the oratory of the senate. It has been 
 my good fortune to number amongst the pupils I have had in the Art of 
 Elocution many who have either been, or now are, members of the 
 Legislature, and I have often conversed with them on the subject of the 
 most popular speakers, and the various styles of speaking chiefly adopted 
 in our Houses of Parliament, and the result of the information I have 
 thus gained may be briefly summed up. In both Houses there is much 
 more carried on by mere talking than there is by what is termed regular 
 speech-making, and a member who can talk easily and sensibly, and 
 does not weary his auditors by mere empty platitudes, will almost always 
 carry due weight and receive a patient and attentive hearing. What 
 is most disliked is a mere pretentious speaker, especially if only a recent 
 addition, whose great ambition seems to be constantly addressing the 
 House upon every occasion when he can catch the eye of "Mr. Speaker," 
 and so see his name in the newspapers next morning. 
 
 These men come at last to be considered as the mere bores of the 
 House, and fare accordingly. But a new member who does not thrust 
 himself at once upon the notice of the House, but bides his time, and 
 then a fitting opportunity of expressing his views, upon some question 
 easily and sensibly, and in a pleasant unaffected manner, will in general 
 meet with attention, and gradually feel his way. The great occasions 
 of debate, such as Reform Bills, Irish Church Bills, &:c., are compara- 
 tively rare, and hence the opportunities of hearing a real " Oration "' 
 from any of our acknowledged great speakers are by no means common. 
 A stranger who is in the habit of taking his seat in the gallery of the 
 House of Commons will find, nine times out of ten, that the business of 
 the evening has been carried on far more by mere talking than regular 
 speech-making. Hence, to talk fluently, pleasantly, and sensibly on a 
 topic, to stand up and say what has to be said in clear and brief lan- 
 guage, and to sit down before there is the least chance of the House 
 being wearied, is as valuable an art there, as it is anywhere else, if not 
 more so, and will almost always meet with its reward in the attention 
 the member will receive on a future occasion. 
 
 What may be termed business speeches are by far the most frequent 
 of all others in our Houses of Parliament, and their general style may 
 be gathered from a statement of their objects. Their purpose not being 
 to awaken passions or feelings, the aim of the speaker should be, by 
 a calm, clear, well arranged, and unexaggerated statement of facts and 
 arguments, to convince the impartial judgment of the House, and hence 
 all rhetorical flights and passionate appeals would only be wasted, and 
 expose him to ridicule, derisive cheers, and laughter. The language on 
 such occasions cannot be too plain and unadorned, provided it be well 
 chosen and appropriate. The committees of the whole House form
 
 Lect. XXIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 407 
 
 excellent opportunities for the practice of this kind of speech, and will 
 gradually pave the way to the more ambitious regular set speech or 
 oration. As I have said already, the occasions that arise for a speech 
 of this kind are not so frequent in either House as might be imagined, 
 but when they do arise, formal notice and time for preparation being 
 given, it is expected, and it is well, that the speaker should be thoroughly 
 prepared for the occasion. To make an opening speech on the night of 
 a great debate upon an important question before the Legislature is, 
 perhaps, the most severe ordeal to which any speaker can possibly be 
 exposed. Here the highest mental and physical requisites that are con- 
 cerned in the art of public speaking may well be brought into action. 
 Facts clearly and powerfully stated, arguments elaboratea with logical 
 force and precision, the deductions that legitimately follow shown in 
 their most vivid colours, and in the strongest light — these are the 
 weapons which the orator has to wield upon such occasions : nor these 
 alone — the most powerful appeals, especially in the peroration, to the 
 reason, passions, feelings, and sympathies are all, not merely permissible, 
 but right and proper on great questions of national importance or vital 
 interest to society. The thoughts of the speech cannot be too well 
 matured, nor its plan and mode of treatment too carefully sketched out 
 beforehand, and every aid that the Art of Elocution can lend in the way 
 of delivery may here be well availed of to enforce the general effect of 
 the orator's address. 
 
 The distinguished statesman and scholar who at present fills the 
 office of Premier, and who, however much men may differ in opinion as 
 regards his political views, none can deny, holds the highest position as 
 an orator in the House of Commons — I mean, of course, the Right 
 Hon. William Ewart Gladstone — was applied to not long since, as one 
 well qualified to do so, to give his opinion as to what was the best 
 system of mental training to make a good speaker. To this application 
 he very courteously responded in a letter, from which I make the fol- 
 lowing extract, feeling assured of its interest and value : — " Speaking 
 from my own experience, I think that the public men of England are 
 beyond all others engrossed by the multitude of cares and subjects of 
 thought belonging to a highly diversified empire, and therefore are 
 probably less than others qualified either to impart to others the best 
 methods of preparing public discourses, or to consider and adopt them 
 for themselves. Supposing, however, I were to make the attempt, I 
 should certainly found myself on a double basts, compounded as follows : 
 — first of a wide and general education, which, I think, gives a supple- 
 ness and readiness, as well as firmness of tissue to the mind not easily 
 obtained without this form of discipline ; and secondly, of the habit of 
 constant and searching reflection on the subject of any proposed discourse. 
 Such reflection will naturally clothe itself in words, and of the phrases 
 it supplies, many will spontaneously rise to the lips." 
 
 If to make a good opening speech on bringing forward a motion on a 
 subject of high importance to the country, or asking for leave to bring 
 in a bill affecting deeply national or social interests, be confessedly one 
 of the most difficult tasks a man can undertake, perhaps still more diff.-
 
 4o8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIII. 
 
 cult is it to make a good reply, and it is certainly one of the severest 
 tests of the genius, skill, discretion, and readiness of a parliamentary 
 orator. By the exercise of thought, reading, research, and other forms 
 of preparation, aided by fluent language and an effective delivery, 
 a man of fair capacity may succeed in making a very excellent open- 
 ing speech that will ehcit the cheers and admiration of the House. 
 But all this labour and preparation beforehand will avail but little in 
 a reply. This really must be, in the strictest sense of the word, an 
 extetnpore speech. As the general of an army would watch all the 
 enemy's movements, and as the battle proceeds carefully note what are 
 the weak positions occupied by him, and the chances he offers for a 
 successful assault being made on any part of his lines ; so should the 
 speaker who has undertaken the all-important task of a reply, carefully 
 follow and make notes of what he deems to be the weak points in the 
 arguments of the different speakers who are opposed to him. In a 
 reply, I think it would be best to take these in their logical order of 
 succession, and so endeavour to show weakness, fallacy, or irrelevancy 
 to the real questions at issue. Save for such notes as he may have 
 made, the man who undertakes a reply must really do so wholly 
 impromptu, and his success must depend on his natural and acquired 
 powers of observation, skill to act on the emergency of the moment, 
 and readiness to seize on every opportunity and repel his adversaries' 
 attacks. As he has the great advantage of knowing that his will be 
 the very last words in the debate, he should especially reserve himself 
 for a powerful peroration, so that when he concludes and resumes his 
 seat, he may have the great advantage, if possible, of having made the 
 last and the most powerful impression upon his audience. So con- 
 fessedly difficult is it to make a good and effective reply, that I think 
 I may safely say, where you will meet with a hundred members 
 who are continually making speeches in the House, you will scarcely 
 meet with ten who will undertake the difficult and responsible task of 
 a reply. 
 
 There are only a very few more branches of public speaking on which 
 I wish to say a few words, and the first of these is open-air speeches and 
 sermons. Candidates, proposers, and seconders, and other persons, 
 not unfrequently have to address large and often noisy and tumultuous 
 assemblies around the hustings and other places ; and of late years 
 many excellent clergymen of various denominations have adopted the 
 practice of occasionally preaching in the open air. Of all speaking none 
 is so exhausting to the system, especially in the case of the untrained 
 speaker, who is wholly unacquainted with the resources which a study 
 and practice of the art of elocution in its largest sense would lend him, 
 as speaking in the open air. I have myself had pupils who have told me 
 that, before they received instruction in the art, the efforts they made, 
 and the straining their throats suffered in the endeavour — a vain one 
 they found after all — to make themselves well heard by a large audience 
 in the open air, left them often for days afterwards in a state of utter 
 exhaustion and of hoarseness and laryngeal or bronchial irritation. 
 Indeed I have known cases where an untrained speaker has, for a day
 
 Lect. XXIII.] ON ELOCUTION. 409 
 
 or two after a long effort in addressing an assembly in the open air, so 
 completely lost his voice that it was reduced to a mere whisper. Now, 
 for open-air speaking there is no need for any undue muscular effort or 
 straining. All this is worse than useless — it is absolutely injurious to 
 the speaker, and destructive of the result he desires to produce. The 
 great requisites for success in open-air speaking, that is to be both 
 audible and distinct to a large assembly, are, first, a general acquaint- 
 ance with, and some practice in, the principles of the art of elocution, so 
 far as they bear more especially on public speaking ; and then the head, 
 chest, and whole body generally, being placed in the most favourable 
 position, to remember and fu/ly carry out the following golden rules, 
 viz., that the lungs before beginning to speak should be thoroughly 
 filled by a good deep inspiration, taken in the way I have already fully 
 explained in one of my earlier Lectures, so that the air enters the lungs 
 only by the air-passages which conduct from the nostrils ; that the 
 speaker begins at once then, and suffers no air to escape uselessly by the 
 open mouth, and so be wasted ; that he avails himself of every proper 
 pause in his address to thoroughly replenish the lungs by a full inspira 
 tion, and so supply them with a fresh amount of air to replace what has 
 been expended in speaking ; that the mouth be somewhat more open 
 than would be requisite in a moderately -sized hall; that the vowels be 
 more fully sustained or dwelt on, especially in all syllables or words that 
 are long in point of quantity ; that all the articulating organs that divide 
 the vowel sounds, and so form speech, be used with special energy and 
 due precision of action ; and that the proper action and reaction of the 
 larynx be adequately and regularly maintained, in order to ensure that 
 all-important poise, on which so much of the success of all public 
 speaking and reading depends. If these suggestions are fully carried 
 out, I think I may safely promise the speaker, even if of moderate 
 physique, that he will succeed in making himself well heard in an open- 
 air meeting, where a man of much more powerful frame and constitu- 
 tion, but wholly unversed in the principles of the art, will only succeed 
 in making a noise, not a speech, distinct and at the same time perfectly 
 audible at a considerable distance. 
 
 That the human voice may be trained and developed by a sound 
 knowledge of the principles of public speaking, and a gradual and judi- 
 cious exercise of its various powers, so as to acquire a wonderful increase 
 in its strength, volume, and compass, is a proposition that no one who 
 has had any experience can possibly dispute. Clearness of voice, 
 fulness of sound, and distinct articulation, are the chief points to 
 which the attention of the open-air speaker must be directed in order to 
 insure his being well heard at a considerable distance ; and I should 
 advise, at all events, until the attention has been well secured, that he 
 should speak somewhat more slowly and deliberately than he would 
 probably do in a hall or any other covered building. 
 
 It is impossible, of course, when speaking in the open air, to make 
 use of those varieties of tone and more delicate inflections and modu- 
 lations of the voice which are so effective in a hall or room ; and there- 
 fore a bolder and broader style altogether must be adopted. The Ian-
 
 4IO K'lNG'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. [Lect. XXIIT. 
 
 guage too, on such occasions cannot be too clear, simple, and vigorous. 
 Elaborate arguments, however sound and good, will either be com- 
 paratively unheeded, or utterly thrown away. Statements powerfully 
 enlarged on, facts forcibly put, results and conclusions vigorously 
 driven home, a liberal use of energetic and impressive action, and 
 unfailing self-possession and good temper under all emergencies — 
 these are the chief requisites to make a man a popular favourite at 
 all public meetings, and ensure success in open-air speaking.
 
 LECTURE XXIV. 
 
 The Vocation of Lecturing — Various Classifications — Educational Lectures generally — 
 Professional, Technical, Literary, and Scientific Lectures — Suggestions to Lecturers 
 — Hints on "Social Speech-making" — Public Festival and Dinner Speeches — 
 Duties of Chairman at Public Dinners — Proposing Toasts — Loyal and Patriotic 
 Toasts — ".The Toast of the Evening" — Returning Thanks — Suggestions in 
 Conclusion. 
 
 IN" this, the concluding one of our introductory course of 
 Lectures, I propose dwelling a little on two subjects, viz., 
 the art of lecturing and what I may term social speech- 
 making. 
 
 As regards lectures, I may observe in the first place, they 
 are becoming every year more and more general in almost every de- 
 partment of life, and are now made the medium for instruction through- 
 out the country far more generally, than they were thirty or forty years 
 ago. At our great universities, at leading colleges and schools, at our 
 Inns of Court, at our various hospitals, at our learned societies, in 
 the metropolis, at our literary and scientific institutions in town and 
 country — lectures meet us everywhere, and consequently numbers are 
 every year being added to the ranks of lecturers in every department 
 of professional and public life. However, even yet, from what I have 
 been informed, I am inclined to think, in proportion to the population, 
 we are still, as regards lectures and lecturers, behind the Americans, in 
 point of numbers, at all events. 
 
 Lectures may, perhaps, be divided into the following principal classes : 
 — Educational, whether general or technical, professional, such as legal, 
 medical lectures, &c. ; literary, scientific, and artistic lectures, A few 
 general remarks applicable to all these classes are all that I can pretend 
 to offer. Whatever subject he takes up, the lecturer should endeavour 
 thoroughly to master and comprehend it all in its details, so that in his 
 attempt to unfold and explain it to his audience, he may place it before 
 them in all its bearings in the fullest and clearest light. 
 
 With most lectures, but more especially professional, scientific, techni- 
 cal and artistic lectures, much illustration is needed, for in all probability 
 the great majority come for the purpose of acquiring information, and thfe
 
 412 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. 
 
 subject therefore may be one with which they may be almost, if not quite, 
 unflimiliar, and can most probably be best explained by comparison with 
 subjects with which they are, or may reasonably be supposed to be, quite 
 familiar. Such a lecture should have its leading principles well laid down 
 and explained, its strong central points so forcibly put to the audience 
 that they may be easily remembered, and around them the subdivisions 
 and minor points be well grouped together in systematic arrangement ; 
 for if such a lecture consists merely of a series of isolated facts, strung 
 together without any logical order or attempt at proper generalisation, 
 no clear conception of the whole subject can be received, nor can any 
 distinct impression be made on the mind, or properly be retained, so as 
 to serve any useful purpose hereafter. 
 
 Lectures may be either written and read, or delivered extempore with 
 pretty nearly equal effect, if the lecturer is well versed in the general 
 principles of the art of reading aloud, of which I have already said so 
 much, and endeavoured to explain so fully and minutely. Almost all 
 literary lectures are written and read, and as the lecturer does not aim, 
 as the public speaker does most commonly, to excite his hearers to some 
 immediate action, the advantages of extempore address are not so neces- 
 sarily called into requisition. Certainly the time given for research and 
 mutual reflection, and all that is needed in the preparation of a good, 
 thoughtful, literary lecture, will tend much to ensure the polish, harmony, 
 and beauty of language which render a theme so treated gratifying to 
 the cultivated ear, as well as attractive and interesting to the mind. 
 There is also a middle course between the reading of the manuscript 
 and the extempore delivering of a lecture, which I know some of our 
 most popular lecturers here and in America always adopt, and some 
 with wonderful success, viz., to carefully prepare and write out the 
 lecture, and then to deliver it 7nemoriter with only the aid of a few lead- 
 ing notes, and not always even with this assistance. No doubt this 
 mode does secure the smoothness, compactness, and beauty of the well- 
 written lecture, together with the life, vivacity, and animation which 
 usually and more especially characterise the extempore discourse. But 
 before adopting it, I think I should advise the young lecturer to have 
 acquired some confidence and self-possession by the practice of facing 
 public audiences for a little time previously, as well as some facility in 
 the art of extempore speaking, so that, should the memory at any time 
 prove treacherous, he may be able easily to recover himself, and by a 
 glance at his notes of leading facts and dates, which, at first, it would 
 be imprudent to neglect having before him, be enabled to gather up 
 the broken chain of ideas and resume his discourse. 
 
 Scientific and artistic lectures, more particularly such as abound with 
 experiments, diagrams, and other illustrations, are almost always delivered 
 extempore; and what I have said already in reference to extempore 
 speaking generally will serve, I hope, as useful suggestions towards the 
 preparation and arrangement of a lecture of this description. There 
 can be no doubt that the chief endeavour of a lecturer on any subject 
 should be both to make himself well acquainted with it, and so to 
 present it to his audience that it may be understood as thoroughly as
 
 Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 413 
 
 it can be in the limit of an hour or an hour and a half, to which time 
 lectures are in general restricted. This, after all, is no such very easy 
 matter, for I think it will be admitted generally it is more difficult to 
 condense properly a large amount of information on any given subject 
 than it is to elaborate and enlarge upon it ; and when reflecting on such 
 difficulty, I have often called to mind the anecdote told of Dr. Johnson's 
 apologising to a friend for writing him a very long letter on the ground 
 that he really had not time then to write a short one. 
 
 Of course the mode of treating a lecture as regards alike its composi- 
 tion and delivery, must be adapted to its general subject, but certainly 
 as much animation and variety as can with propriety be introduced, 
 should be fully carried out by the lecturer in his language, as well as in 
 his manner, so as to prevent his audience losing their interest and 
 exhausting their patience and power of attention. 
 
 I now come to the last subject in Avhich I propose to offer a few brief 
 remarks, viz., what I have classified generally under the name of "social 
 speeches," by which I mean speeches at public festivals, anniversary 
 banquets, public or private dinners, and other similar occasions. These 
 are frequent enough, for it has been truly said that any event of public 
 or private interest or importance is certain to be commemorated in our 
 country by a dinner or breakfast, on which occasion toasts have to be 
 proposed and thanks returned. You yourselves, gentlemen, in this very 
 college, in the annual dinners at the close of the winter sessions in each 
 year to which you so kindly and courteously invite all your professors 
 and lecturers, admirably follow out this genuine English custom, and I 
 am sure on those festive occasions we have heard within these walls 
 many excellent speeches ; and I trust I am not making any invidious 
 distinction when I venture to say that the learned gentleman whom you 
 are all proud to rank among the associates of King's College (Mr. John 
 Clark), who so ably filled the post of chairman at a recent anniversary 
 dinner, discharged all the duties of his office with an ease, fluency, and 
 courtesy that would really serve as a good model for chairmen at public 
 festivals to follow. 
 
 But however readily we may admit that the last attribute is very rarely 
 wanting in speakers at social gatherings, are ease and fluency such com- 
 mon attributes ? Is the following description which occurs in a lecture 
 delivered some time ago at the Royal Institution exaggerated or 
 over-coloured, or one but rarely realised? " I allude to those worthy 
 gentlemen who, without any pretensions to eloquence, may wish to say 
 a few words after dinner, or at a wedding breakfast, or possibly aspire to 
 the platform or the hustings — practical men of well-disciplined and well- 
 stored minds, and possessing a fair command of language in ordinary 
 conversation ; yet when called upon to speak, think, and stand, at the 
 same time, the threefold effort seems too much for their nerves. Self- 
 possession disappears, and the wildest confusion reigns. A sentence is 
 half formed, and then dismissed — a word is used, changed, and recalled 
 — nominatives cannot find their verbs — plurals and singulars are joined 
 in ungrammatical wedlock — the head of one period is tacked to the 
 body of another and the tail of a third — premises are laid down from
 
 414 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. 
 
 which no conclusions are drawn, and conclusions appear, ushered in by 
 vehement ' therefores ' from non-existent premises."* Well may the 
 American divine, Dr. Channing, say, as he does in his essay on "Self 
 Culture," that a man who cannot open his lips without breaking a rule 
 of grammar, without showing in his dialect, or brogue, or uncouth 
 tones his want of cultivation, or without darkening his meaning by a 
 confused or unskilful mode of communication, cannot take the place 
 to which, perhaps, his native good sense entitles him. 
 
 Call to mind the public dinners — or indeed any dinners where toasts 
 have been proposed and thanks returned, whether public or private — 
 which you may have attended in the last six or twelve months, and then 
 tell me if the great majority of the speakers were not characterised by 
 vacuity of thought, confusion of ideas, or incoherence of language. 
 I certainly think, from my travels abroad, that in respect to social 
 speech-making we are in general far behind other countries. I have 
 attended many Public Festivals and Literary and other Societies' dinners 
 in foreign lands, and I have certainly never once witnessed any in- 
 stance approaching the failures or " break-downs " which but too often 
 pain us here. 
 
 No doubt it is a much more difficult thing than most persons imagine 
 to deliver a good after-dinner speech with ease and fluency of language, 
 and becoming geniality of manner. Let any man who has had no 
 experience in the construction of an extempore speech, however short, 
 and is unversed in the art of '* thinking on his legs," be called on 
 suddenly at some public or private festival to propose a toast or 
 return thanks, and in nine cases out of ten he will find it by no 
 means such an easy task as he fancied it to be till he rose from his seat, 
 and the eyes of all the guests were bent on him in mute attention. 
 But if a man of fair average abilities will only take the trouble to 
 make himself acquainted with the leading principles that govern 
 the construction of any extempore discourse, and consent to undergo 
 some little amount of training in its practice, he may rest assured he 
 will in a comparatively short time be enabled to play his part, fairly 
 enough, on all such occasions of public or private festivity. 
 
 At all public dinners, whether for some charitable, benevolent, 
 political, or any other purpose, the chief burden of the duties of the 
 evening rests upon the chairman, and upon his efificient performance 
 much of the general success of the evening depends. Some nobleman 
 or gentleman is usually chosen for this office who is either eminent in 
 rank or social reputation, or is known to take a warm interest in the 
 charity or other special object for which the festival is held. It is 
 needless to say that, like a chairman at any public meeting, he pre- 
 serves order, and his decisions on any matter are obeyed as the law of 
 the company. He always occupies the chief place at the principal 
 table, and is supported on either side by the principal visitors who 
 are present ; and when it is what is termed a complimentary dinner — 
 that is, a dinner given in honour of some distinguished individual — 
 
 * "The Study of the English Lansuage,"' by the Rev. A.J. D. D'Oisey. London: 
 Lell and Daldy.
 
 Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 415 
 
 such "guest of the evening," as he is called, is always placed on the 
 right hand of the chairman. 
 
 At the conclusion of the banquet, the chairman's first duty is to go 
 through in succession, with but brief intervals between each, the task 
 of proposing what are usually summed up as the loyal and patriotic 
 toasts. These toasts, it is superfluous to say, at the present time, are 
 the Queen, the Prince and Princess of Wales, and the rest of the Royal 
 Family, and the Army, Navy, and Volunteers. 
 
 A few well-chosen words in reference to the royal toasts are all that 
 are needed. A few expressions of well-deserved eulogy in each of these 
 cases are all that are expected, but any graceful allusion to some passing 
 act of royal kindness or benevolence, or any incidents that may have 
 recently happened in royal life, may with great propriety be introduced 
 and briefly touched on. 
 
 Sometimes, and especially when there happens to be a prelate pre- 
 sent, the toast of the Church, and Bishop and Clergy of the Diocese, 
 is added. On these occasions it is usual to dwell at some little 
 length on the position of the Church in her domestic and colonial 
 relationships, and to advert to any special movements that may have 
 lately taken place for the purpose of extending her influence and 
 widening her sphere of usefulness, such as Church extension, mis- 
 sionary enterprises at home and abroad, &c. The bishop present (if 
 there be one), or the chaplain of the particular society in whose aid 
 the festival is held, or the principal clergyman in point of rank, is 
 usually coupled with the toast and called upon to return thanks, and 
 in doing so he generally touches upon the chief points in connection 
 with Church matters that have been adverted to in introducing the 
 toast. 
 
 Following upon this usually comes the toast of the Army, Navy, 
 and Volunteers, and a glance at the newspaper reports of any public 
 dinner will show that the mode of dealing with it is, with small varia- 
 tion, almost always the same. Allusion to the warm welcome with 
 which such a toast is always received in any company of Englishmen, 
 and the conviction of the speaker that such a reception is what the 
 services are justly entitled to, is in general the formal introduction, 
 and then any particular events in which they have been lately con- 
 cerned are commonly glanced at, and the names of the most distin- 
 guished officers who may be present are coupled with the toast, and 
 they are asked to acknowledge it. This is by no means a difficult 
 task, and it is one that is, for the most part, very briefly performed 
 by thanking the company warmly for the reception accorded to the 
 toast, and assuring them they will ever be found anxious to discharge 
 to the utmost the important duties confided to them as the defenders 
 of their country, and the upholders of her honour and glory. 
 
 At political banquets we always have next the toasts of the Houses 
 of Lords and Commons, not unfrequently coupled together, and always 
 associated with the names of members of either House, when such 
 are present. The speeches delivered at this part of the ceremonial 
 are always of some length, and of course vary considerably, according
 
 4i6 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. 
 
 to the political feeling of the assembly, and the important measures 
 that have been passed during the course of the Session, They are 
 always enlarged on by the speaker who proposes the toast, and of 
 course the members of Parliament who return thanks travel nearly 
 over the same ground in doing so, and dwell on the soundness of the 
 principles that have actuated their political conduct, and endeavour to 
 show how they must promote the welfare and happiness of the country 
 ai large. Of late years a custom has sprung up, and promises to 
 become still more general, of members during each recess meeting 
 their constituents, either at a public dinner or public meeting, and 
 there giving a full " account of their stewardship," so that even the 
 most silent members of the House must on these occasions make a 
 tolerably long speech, and be prepared for it accordingly ; besides, 
 also having very probably to answer, impromptu and at length, a great 
 variety of questions, political and otherwise, that may be put to 
 them in reference to their conduct, speeches, or votes during the 
 Session. 
 
 After the loyal and patriotic toasts, we usually have at philanthropic 
 and complimentary dinners what is denominated as " the toast of the 
 evening," and for this the chairman usually reserves all his powers, to 
 make it as effective as possible, as regards alike composition and 
 delivery. At the former class of dinners, " the toast of the evening" is 
 the particular Institution, Society, or other charity in aid of which the 
 festival is being held. The chairman, as a rule, should begin with a 
 good, commendatory introduction, delivered simply and effectively. He 
 may then enter at some length into the history of the origin and progress 
 of the Institution or Society for which he pleads, show the benevolent 
 objects that were contemplated at its first establishment, and how these 
 have been achieved, and what general good has been or is now being 
 effected in various ways through its instrumentality. If obstacles have 
 been encountered in consequence of apathy, novelty of the object, 
 prejudice, want of adequate funds or personal support, he may very 
 properly advert at length to all or any of them that exist, and show how 
 such obstacles have been overcome, or may yet probably be eventually 
 surmounted. As such banquets are chiefly held for the purpose of 
 raising funds to free the Institution or Society from encumbrances, or 
 still further to promote its efficiency, its present financial position always 
 forms a topic of comment, and the leading features of its annual report 
 afford a further subject of observation. All these lead naturally up to 
 the peroration, which is almost invariably an appeal to the company and 
 the general public for assistance and support in the shape of donations 
 and subscriptions, and the exercise of personal and local influence. It 
 is needless to say that in proposing " the toast of the evening " the 
 speaker should endeavour by all the aids that rhetoric and good elocution 
 can give to make it as eloquent and effective as possible. 
 
 In what I have called " complimentary dinners " — by which term I 
 mean dinners given in honour of some particular individual who has 
 acquired pre-eminence and distinction by the services he has rendered, 
 or the reputation he has won in science, art, literature, &c. — "the toast
 
 Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 417 
 
 of the evening" is the health of the guest so specially honoured. To 
 propose this well seems to me one of the most delicate, difficult, and 
 responsible tasks that can devolve upon a chairman. Of course, the 
 very character and object of the banquet necessarily implies that the 
 speech must be one of eulogy of the guest in whose honour it is given. 
 To praise well — that is, steering between the two extremes of not saying 
 enough in a man's praise on such occasions, and of allowing such praise 
 to degenerate into gross adulation and fulsome flattery — is after all no 
 such very easy task. It has been truly said that all men are open to 
 flattery, more or less, and when we think we hate flattery, all that we 
 hate is the awkwardness of the flatterer. Now, in plain language, in 
 proposing " the guest of the evening," however well deserving of high 
 eulogy he may be, the speech must necessarily be one of flattery, and 
 upon the grace, delicacy, and skill with which such flattery is applied, 
 will the success of the speech chiefly depend. One of the best speeches 
 of this kind that I ever had the pleasure of listening to, was that 
 delivered by the late Lord Lytton on the occasion of his presiding at 
 the banquet given to our lamented great novelist and humorist, Charles 
 Dickens, prior to his departure for America. As far as regards elegance 
 of language and skill and taste in composition, it struck me as being 
 quite a model for all such speeches. Nor was the acknowledgment in 
 answer, on the part of the eminent guest who was the object of so much 
 well-won eulogy and honour, less worthy of praise and imitation as 
 regarded alike its composition and admirable delivery. 
 
 It is only a few suggestions that I can offer in reference to the com- 
 position of a speech of this character, and those only of the most 
 general description ; for, of course, the special individual eminence in 
 arts, arms, science, literature, or philanthropy of the guest honoured 
 by a festival of this nature, must be the guide to the leading features of 
 the speech of the chairman on such an occasion. A graceful allusion 
 to the object for which the company have assembled, and a modest 
 self-depreciation of the powers of the speaker to render adequate justice 
 to the theme with which he has to deal, may form a very proper exor- 
 dium to such a speech, and is what is almost always adopted on such 
 occasions, however experienced and eloquent the speaker may really be. 
 The importance and usefulness of the particular science, art, or pro- 
 fession, &c., which the guest of the evening has adorned, or the services 
 he may have rendered to his country or humanity, may then be very 
 properly introduced and enlarged upon at considerable length. A 
 sketch of the leading incidents in the life and public career of the 
 person whom they are met to honour usually follows, and its material 
 points are dwelt on more or less fully ; and the whole should conclude 
 with warm, but just eulogy of his talents, conduct, and character in the 
 sphere in which he has acquired fame and distinction. 
 
 The speech that follows in acknowledgment of the toast on the part 
 of the honoured guest is in no way inferior in importance to that of the 
 chairman in proposing it, and certainly not less difficult a duty to be 
 effectively discharged. If his health is considered as " the toast of the 
 
 2 D
 
 4i8 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Lect. XXIV. 
 
 evening," his speech in answer is always regarded as emphatically by 
 the whole assembly as "the speech of the evening." 
 
 Among the many public dinners given to distinguished statesmen, 
 artists, men of letters, and others, at which I have been present. I have 
 not met with one in which the guest of the evening did not begin by 
 expressing in earnest words his deep gratitude for the reception given 
 him, and lament his inability to find language that could adequately 
 render his feelings of thankfulness at such a moment. After some pre- 
 fatory remarks of this nature, calculated to enlist the sympathy and 
 indulgence of the audience, it is usual for the speaker to dwell at some 
 length on his personal or professional career, and more especially such 
 circumstances as have led to the crowning honour of the evening, and 
 in the best way he can, express his feelings of gratitude for the distinc- 
 tion conferred upon him. It is almost needless to say that upon the 
 mode of dealing with " the toast of the evening," which the chairman 
 has adopted in proposing it, much of the guest's answer must neces- 
 .sarily depend, but all the leading topics which have been introduced by 
 the former may very appropriately be adverted to and commented on 
 by the latter, and a good peroration expressive of the warmth and depth 
 of his gratitude is more especially desirable. 
 
 Other toasts then usually succeed, and each of these, whether per- 
 sonal or representative, must of course, as regards its composition and 
 arrangement, depend on the nature of its subject. The health of the 
 chairman is usually proposed early in the evening, and in cases of what 
 I have termed complimentary dinners, almost always directly after the 
 lionoured guest has returned thanks and resumed his seat The indi- 
 vidual to whom is entrusted the task of proposing the toast of " the 
 chairman," at important public dinners, is invariably some nobleman 
 or gentleman of political, professional, or social distinction, and it is 
 always regarded as one of the principal speeches of the evening. It is 
 generally made, if possible, an occasion for the display of some eloquence 
 and- warmth of feeling, and a considerable amount of personal eulogy; 
 for, in fact, the speaker has to perform towards the chairman very much 
 the same kind of duty that the chairman has just discharged in reference 
 to the guest of the evening, on the occasion of a complimentary dinner ; 
 and most of the suggestions I have offered in regard to the one case, 
 will be equally applicable to the other. I have remarked, at nearly all 
 the great public dinners at which I have been present, it seemed to me 
 that the aim of the chairman in returning thanks was to make his speech 
 as brief and as effective as possible. 
 
 The toast of " the Ladies " is always the last on the programme, and 
 winds up the proceedings of the evening. It is necessarily always a brief 
 speech, like the response to it, and both are almost always made, if 
 possible, occasions more for the display of a little graceful humour, 
 gaiety, and badinage, mingled of course with a few complimentary 
 expressions in reference to the sex generally, than anything else. 
 
 I have now completed my outline of the speeches usually made at 
 our public dinners. They vary necessarily in some particulars, accord- 
 ing to the special character of the occasion wliich brings the company
 
 Lect. XXIV.] ON ELOCUTION. 419 
 
 together, but the foregoing sketch may, I think, be taken as more or 
 less generally applicable to all. It is superfluous for me to say that my 
 brief suggestions are not intended to apply to speakers of any practice 
 or experience, but only as hints, as helps or materials for thought, to be 
 further and more fully developed by young or untried speakers who may 
 at any time be called on to take an active part at these public or private 
 festivals, at which certainly nearly all our social oratory is usually heard, 
 and which may serve as a school for practice, contribute to give ease, 
 confidence, and self-possession, and prove a good introduction to higher 
 and more ambitious efforts.
 
 APPENDIX I. 
 
 Remarks on Orthoepy, and the rules laid done by various writers on Pronunciation ; 
 — I, The tendency of compound words to shorten the Vowel which is long in the 
 primitives. 2. The shortening tendency of tlie Antepenultimate Accent. 3. The 
 shortening tendency of the Secondary Accent. 4. The shortening tendency of the 
 past tense. 5. The power of w over the subsequent vowel. 6. The aspirated 
 hissing of /, d, j, z, x, and soft c. 7. Faulty pronunciation of accented vowels. 
 8. Pronunciation of tmaccenled syllables. 9. Allowable fluctuation in the sound of 
 some unaccented vowels and diphthongs. 10. Faulty pronunciation of unaccented 
 vowels. II. Suppression of unaccented vowels where they should be sounded ; and 
 the opposite error — The termination ed in. the past tense and participle. 12. The 
 termination el. 13. The termination en. 14. The termination il, in. 15. Tlie 
 termination on. 16. Suppressing the vowel-sound in the termination iion and sion. 
 17. Suppressing t when between two s's. Sac. 18. Suppressing h where it ought to 
 be sounded, and vice versd. 19. Suppressing h before w ; also m skr ; and in the 
 termination ^/i. 20. Sounding r too strongly or too feebly. 21. Suppressing the 
 sound of final consonants. 22. The terminational n^ — Guidance in pronunciation — 
 Alphabetical list of words occurring in the Sacred Scriptures and the Liturgy to be 
 pronounced according to the authority of Walker and others. 
 
 ADD, by way of appendix, some general remarks on the 
 pronunciation of words in the English language, more 
 particularly in regard to those which are most frequently 
 liable to mispronunciation, and on which orthoepists of 
 eminence have expressed an opinion. In the summary 
 that follows I have adopted, with some slight exceptions, Mr. How- 
 lett's views, but I have also, in reference to words in which we find 
 different modes of pronunciation prevalent, consulted and maturely 
 weighed the dicta of such writers as Walker, Webster, Latham, Perry, 
 Morrell, &c. 
 
 Deviations from the common usage of speaking arrest the attention 
 of the higher classes of society, interrupt the current of thought, and 
 turn it from the matter to the manner — from the meaning of the words 
 to the pronunciation of them. This consideration gives to the subject 
 an importance which will influence the student who is anxious to per- 
 form his duty in every respect, and towards all classes of hearers, to the 
 best of his ability ; and may, perhaps, induce him to devote a little time 
 to the perusal of the following pages, in which are incorporated some of 
 the remarks and rules of various eminent writers on the subject of pro- 
 nunciation.
 
 Appendix I.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 421 
 
 Dr. Johnson's general rule, that " those are to be considered as the 
 most elegant speakers who deviate least from the written words," has 
 been justly censured by Mr. Walker. It has already led to much inno- 
 vation, and, in many cases, produced diversity of pronunciation where 
 previously there was uniformity. For example, those who are guided 
 by the spelling, sound the final unaccented vowel distinctly in heaven, 
 opefi, evil, reckon, reason, &c., in which words it formerly was always 
 suppressed. They likewise sound the a distinctly in the terminations 
 of such words as twbleman, combat, &c, instead of adopting the obscure, 
 intermediate, neutral sound which approximates to the sound of u. They 
 also give to some consonants in certain situations their alphabetic sounds, 
 instead of admitting after them that liquid sibilation which constitutes 
 an analogy that runs through the language ; thus they say vir-tue for 
 vir-tshue, ?ia-iure for na-tshure, censure for ce?i-slmre, &c. By following 
 the above-mentioned principle, these discrepancies of pronunciation 
 must increase to an infinite extent, because the words in most common 
 use are those which are pronounced with the widest deviation from the 
 spelling. Instead, therefore, of admitting a rule which tends to make 
 *• confusion worse confounded," Walker recommends that the analogies 
 and tendencies of the language should be studied, as the best guides in 
 orthoepy. But as Johnson'^s rule is much more easily adopted than 
 Walker's, it is not surprising that the former should have more followers ; 
 among whom, it is very natural that young clergymen should be included, 
 particularly at the commencement of their professional labours. Hence 
 are heard extraordinary changes in the pronunciation even of the most 
 common words in the Church Service, in defiance of decided custom : 
 thus, bu-rial, apos-tle, epis-tle, folk, idol, covet, covenant, &c., &c., are fre- 
 quently sounded exactly according to the spelling, instead of being 
 sounded in the usual manner, as if they were spelt thus : ber-ri-al, apos-sl, 
 epis-sl (the /silent in both these words), foke, idul, cuv-et, cuv-e-tiant, &c., 
 &c. If the learned Lexicographer's principle were adopted, what strange 
 changes in pronunciation would be required in reading the following 
 sentences, in which none of the words printed in italics are sounded 
 according to the spelling : — 
 
 The commoj! usage of English people in talking their native tongue proves \\\z\.they 
 do not trouble themselves as to the spelling of the words. It surely is an evil custom, and 
 savours of affectation, to talk otherwise than their fathers, mothers, brothers, and relations 
 have talked. If the professors of colleges and other places of education would give their 
 attention to the principles of English pronunciation, they would see 7-eason not to 
 sanction the fashion ^pronouncing many common words in unusual ways — sounding 
 the final syllables exactly as they are SY>e\i in evil, devil; heaven, leaven; heathen, 
 even ; reason, season ; beacon, deacon ; often, softly, &c., &c. 
 
 " No man," * says the ingenious author of " The Theory of Elocu- 
 tion," has a right to question any customary manner of sounding a 
 word who is unacquainted with the general rules that secretly influence 
 custom. Should the investigation necessary for arriving at these data 
 be deemed too laborious, then let it not be thought too much to follow 
 
 * Smart's " Theory," &c., p. 43.
 
 422 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix I. 
 
 implicity an orthoepist like Walker, who really had made the investiga- 
 tion ; excepting only in those cases in which to agree with him would 
 be to violate indubitable usage — cases which will sometimes occur from 
 the variation of usage since his Dictionary was written." But where is 
 this usage to be learned ? Partly from the writers on orthoepy — Perry, 
 Jameson, Knowles, Smart, Richardson, and Webster. Walker's remark, 
 also, will serve to guide us : " Neither a finical pronunciation of the 
 court, nor a pedantic Grecism of the schools, will be denominated re- 
 spectable usage till a certain number of the general mass of speakers 
 have acknowledged them ; nor will a multitude of common speakers 
 authorise any pronunciaton which is reprobated by the learned and 
 polite." 
 
 Though Pronouncing Dictionaries are in every one's hand, still some 
 advantage may be derived from bringing into one view what Walker 
 (with whose opinions all modern orthoepists generally agree) considered 
 to be some of the remarkable tendencies which prevail in the pronun- 
 ciation of the language.* 
 
 REMARKABLE TENDENCIES OF PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 I. — Compound and derivative words generally shorten the vowel which 
 is long in the primitive words : thus, heroine from hei'o. Christian from 
 Christ, vineyard {xoxi\ vine-yard, Christmas ixova Christ-mass, Michaelmas 
 from Alichael-tnass, breakfast from break-fast, forehead from fore-head ; 
 meadow from mead, primer from prime, knowledge from know, nothing 
 from 710, &c. 
 
 2. — The antepenultimate accent generally shortens the vowel when a 
 single consonant, or two that are proper to begin a syllable, intervene 
 between it and the next vowel : thus, nature, 7idtiiral; parent, parentage ; 
 penal, penalty ; Simon, simony ; globe, globular ; patron, patronage ; metre, 
 metrical ; sacred, sacrifice, sacraments, &c. 
 
 Exception (a). — U is never thus shortened : thus, cube, cubical ; music, 
 musical ; hmar, lunary ; humour, humorous. 
 
 Exception (b). — The antepenultimate accent does not shorten the 
 vowel (unless that vowel be i) when the following syllable has in it a 
 proper diphthong beginning with e or /, as ei, eo, ia, ie, to, iu, eou, or iou : — 
 Ex. A-theist, me-teor, me-diate, a-lien, occasional, me-dium, outra-geous, 
 harmonious. But so great a propensity (says Mr. Walker) have vowels 
 to shrink under this accent, that the diphthong in some words, and 
 analogy in others, are not sufficient to prevent it : thus, vdlia?it, retaliate, 
 national, rational. 
 
 3. — The secondary accent f in derivative words generally shortens the 
 
 * The student may consult with great advantage Smart's " Practical Grammar of 
 English Pronunciation," a work which deserves to be generally known. 
 
 t The secondary accent is that stress which is occasionally placed in words of four 
 or more syllables upon some other syllable besides that which has the principal accent. 
 Thus, accent is placed on \\it first syllable of conversation, covunendation, besides the 
 principal one on the third syllable, when the word is not preceded by an accented 
 syllable. But when it is so preceded, the secondary accent is not used : thus, polite 
 conversation, griat comvunddtion.
 
 Appendix I.] ON ELOCUTION. 423 
 
 vowel which is long, though unaccented, in the primitive words. Hence 
 the first vowel which is lengthened in dc-prive, re-peat, profane, becomes 
 short, through the influence of the secondary accent, in dep'-riva"-tio7i, 
 rep' -eii" -iion, prof -ana" -tio7i. 
 
 (a) The exceptions to this effect of the secondary accent are similar 
 to those which take place under the antepenultimate accent : viz., when 
 u occurs ; as hiaibt-ate, likuora'tion, pu-rify, piiri-fica!' tion ; or when 
 the following syllable contains a semi-consonant diphthong beginning 
 with e or / (see exception (b) under the antepenultimate accent) : thus 
 the long e in de-viate, me-diate, continues long in ae-viation, me-diation, 
 me-diator. 
 
 4. — The past tense frequently shortens the vowel which is long in the 
 present tense: thus, bitixoxa. bite ; said iiovsx say ; read ixova read; and 
 heard from hear. 
 
 5. — IV has a peculiar power over the sound of the succeeding vowel : 
 hence the sound given to the in worm, word, and the broad sound 
 given to the a in water, wan, quatitity (-^zfontity),' quality (-^wolity), 
 qualify [kwoWiy), &c. The u which always follows q is sounded like 
 w ; and as w always communicates a broad sound to a in the syllables 
 al and ant when under the accent, analogy clearly requires that the 
 broad sound should be adopted in quality, qualify, quantity, &c. 
 
 6. — An aspirated hissing is given to /, d, s, z, x, and soft c,* imme- 
 diately after the accent (either primary or secondary), and before proper 
 diphthongs beginning with e or // likewise often before i^. 
 
 (a) T is sounded like sh in the combinations tia, tial, tian, tiate, tient, 
 tience, Hon, tious ; as in ?ni?mticB, partial, partiality, tertial, expatiate, 
 patient, patience, nation, captious, &c. 
 
 (b) T is sounded like tch, in the combinations teous, tue, tuous, tual, 
 tune, ture, tute ; likewise when t follows s, ?i, x, as in righteous, virtue, vir- 
 tuous, spiritual, fortune, nature, statute ; bestial, question, frontier, admix- 
 ture, &c. 
 
 " This pronunciation of / extends to every word in which the diph- 
 thong or diphthongal sound begins with / or e, except in the termination 
 of verbs and adjectives, which preserve the simple in the augment ,with- 
 out suffering the t to go into the hissing sound : as, I pity, thou pitiest, 
 he pities or pitied ; mightier, worthier, twentieth, thirtieth, &c. This is 
 a2;reeable to the general rule, which forbids adjectives or verbal termin- 
 ations to alter the sound of the primitive verb or noun." — Walker. 
 
 (c) JD is sounded like/ in soldier, grandeur, verdure. 
 
 (d) S is sounded likej// in the combinations seate, sient, sion, sure, 
 sue ; as in nauseate, transiefit, aimension, censtire, issue, &c. 
 
 (e) S is sounded like zh when preceded by a vowel or vowel-sound ; 
 as in occasion, Ephesians, pleasure, &c. 
 
 (f) Z is sounded like zh in glazier, grazier, azure, razure. 
 
 (g) JT is sounded like ksh m flexion, crucifixion, anxious, &ic. 
 
 * On minutely considering the position of the organs of speech when pronouncing 
 these consonants and vowels, it appears that this sibilation promotes ease of utterance. 
 See Walker's " Principles," art. 459; also Smart's "Practical Grammar of English 
 Pronunciation," pp. 68, 212,
 
 424 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix 1, 
 
 (h) C is sounded like sh in ocean, testaceous, social, associate, and in 
 similar combinations. 
 
 (i) N.B. It must be carefully remembered that the foregoing remarks 
 are restricted to the case of 7inaccefited syllables. When the accent falls 
 on the vowel immediately after t, d, s, x, and soft c, those letters retain 
 their proper sound : as satiety, tune ; endi^re, due ; pursue, suicide, suit ; 
 anxiety; society. 
 
 The only exceptions are sugar and sure with their compounds. 
 
 7. — FAULTY PRONUNCIATION OF ACCENTED VOWELS AND DIPHTHONGS. 
 
 The irregular sound of 0, as heard in the words dove, love, &c., is 
 frequently disregarded by those who think themselves bound to follow 
 the spelling. Such speakers require to be reminded that 0, when under 
 the accent and followed by w, n, v, or th, very frequently has the 
 above-mentioned short sound of u as in cub. This pronunciation is 
 required in c6»mfort, C(?mpany, dcmong, mongrel, vaong&r, ton, tongue, 
 &:c. ; c^vet, covenant, owtn, &c. ; either, mother, d^th, &:c. 
 
 The same sound is to be admitted in a few instances before z and r ; 
 as in d(?zen, coztn ; borough, atttirney, through. 
 
 U, following r, sometimes assumes the sound of 00, instead of its 
 sound in cube. This happens in the following words, and in their com- 
 pounds : tr?^th, truly, br«te, rum, xuXtr, unr//ly, frz/gal, cxue\, cr«cify, 
 prz^dent, Dr«id, fr«it, &c. 
 
 The following faults in the pronunciation of accented vowels and 
 diphthongs are principally provincial ; but as they are sometimes, through 
 inadvertence, committed even by those who are in other respects accu- 
 rate and elegant speakers, and as they extend to a considerable class of 
 words, they require to be noticed. 
 
 In catch, gather, having, thanks, thanksgiving, &c., the a is often 
 incorrectly sounded as e, as if written cetch, geiher, heving, thenks, 
 thenksgiving. Get, forget, yet, instead, are altered into git, forgit, yit, 
 and instid ; since into sence ; whilst justly, justice, such, shut, &c., are 
 frequently f^xoxiovccvc^di jestly, jestice, sech, shet. 
 
 To change er or ir, when under the accent and followed by a vowel, 
 into ur, is an error which may be considered altogether provincial ; but 
 as the words in which it is observable are of frequent occurrence in 
 the Holy Scriptures, in the Church Service, or in sermons, it may be 
 useful to mention it. In this mode of pronunciation the words impera- 
 tive, heresy, merry, verily, error, 7niracles, irritate, Szc, are altered into 
 t7npur-ative, hur-esy, murry, vur-ily, urror, inur-acles, urritate. 
 
 In pronouncing the diphthong ou, the sound of ah is sometimes 
 wrongly introduced before it : as thah-ou for thou ; rah-outid for round, 
 &c. 
 
 8. — PRONUNCIATION OF UNACCENTED SYLLABLES. 
 
 " Besides such imperfections in pronunciation as disgust every ear not 
 accustomed to them, there are a thousand insensible deviations in the 
 more minute parts of language, as the unaccented syllable may be called,
 
 Appendix I.] ON ELOCUTION, 425 
 
 which do not strike the ear so forcibly as to mark any indirect impro- 
 priety in particular words, but occasion only such a general imperfection 
 as gives a bad impression on the whole. Speakers with these imper- 
 fections pass very well in common conversation ; but when they are re- 
 quired to pronounce with emphasis, and for that purpose to be more 
 distinct and definite in their utterance, here their ear fails them : they 
 have been accustomed only to loose, cursory speaking, and for want of 
 firmness of pronunciation are like those painters who draw the muscular 
 exertions of the human body without any knowledge of anatomy. This 
 is one reason, perhaps, why we find the elocution of so few people agree- 
 able when they read or speak to an assembly, while so few offend us by 
 their utterance in common conversation. A thousand faults lie con- 
 cealed in a miniature, which a microscope brings to view ; and it is only 
 by pronouncing on a larger scale, as public speaking may be called, that 
 we prove the propriety of our elocution." — Walker. 
 
 9. — ALLOWABLE FLUCTUATION IN THE SOUND OF SOME UNACCENTED 
 VOWELS AND DIPHTHONGS. 
 
 (a) A final in a syllable without accent receives a sound between that 
 of a as heard in ah, and that of u in Jur; e.g., d!-bound, tr«-duce, di-a- 
 dem, ide-fl-. 
 
 (b) A followed by a consonant in a syllable without accent receives 
 a sound which wavers between that in at and that in uf. In colloquial 
 pronunciation it will tend towards the latter sound ; in deliberate 
 reading or speaking it will decline less from the former : e.g., comb<2t, 
 nobleman. 
 
 (c) When /or Fis final in a syllable or followed by a consonant, and 
 final e is unaccented, it no longer retains its alphabet sound : thus, 
 i-magine, y-cleped, p-iazza, li-tigious, hypocrisy, ci-viUty, ti-midity, servile, 
 practice, treatise, respite, favourite, getiuine, opposite, are pronounced 
 e-magine, pe-azza, &c., servil, practis, treatis, respit, &c. 
 
 (d) O, followed by a consonant in a final syllable without accent, 
 acquires the sound of short or shut u, as heard in tub ; and if not in a 
 final syllable, it approaches that sound. 
 
 In a final syllable, is sounded decidedly as u; thus mamm^jck, 
 cassock, methtid, pistd, custom, auth<?r, czxrot, &c., are pronounced 
 mammz^ck, cass//ck, meth?/d, &c. 
 
 The same sound is adopted in the numerous class of words ending 
 in ofi, sion, and tion ; as tend(?n, bludgeon, syphon, milli(?n, champion, 
 centurit'n, occasit'n, nati(^m, &c. 
 
 (e) O, not in a final syllable, approaches the sound of short u ; com- 
 mand, Cd^njecture, rec^^llect, rec<?mmend. Consult Walker's Dictionary 
 on these words. 
 
 (f) The sound of u which comes after /, j, s, t, and d, circumstanced 
 as in l2ite, sluice, juice, censure, leisure, nature, verdure, wavers between 
 the sound of u as heard in rude and that in cube.* 
 
 (g) The words the, to, your, for, my, vary in their sound according to 
 their situation. 
 
 * See Smart's " Theory," &c., p. 37.
 
 426 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix I. 
 
 When the precedes a word beginning with a vowel, the e is sounded 
 plainly and distinctly ; but when it precedes a consonant, it has a short 
 sound, little more than the sound of t/i without the e. This difference 
 will be perceptible by comparing the oil, the air, &c., with the pen, the 
 hand, &c. It is obvious in the following couplet : — 
 
 " Some, foreign writers, some our own despise ; 
 The ancients only, or the moderns prize." 
 
 To, likewise, is pronounced long before a vowel, and short before a 
 consonant. This distinction will be evident by the following examples : 
 fo ask, to end, to open, to utter, to begin. " One man went to Eton ; 
 another went to London." Care must be taken not to convert to into 
 tiih. 
 
 Your 2indfor, when unaccented, have their vowels shortened into a 
 sound somewLat like that heard in fur : " Give me your ijur) hand ; 
 I wish for your (yur) help." * 
 
 When my is not accented, the y is pronounced as the y in ably, lady. 
 
 lO. — FAULTY PRONUNCIATION OF UNACCENTED VOWELS. 
 
 E, i, 0, in unaccented syllables, are erroneously sounded like short 
 u, and u like e. 
 
 I. In unaccented cotnmcncing syllables — 
 e final in the syllable is improperly sounded like short // ; 
 event, ?/v-vent ; especial, ?L-special ; before, buf-ioxo. ; believe, bUl- 
 lieve ; beneath, biin-neaih ; peruse, piir-ruse ; repent, riip--pent, &c. 
 
 / final in the syllable f is improperly sounded like uh : bisect, buh- 
 sect ; direct, duh-rect ; digest, duh-gest, mi-nute, muh-nute, &c. 
 
 final in the syllable is improperly sounded like u : + obey, uh-hey ; 
 oblige, ub-h\ige ; opinion, ?//-pinion ; society, sus-ciety, &c. 
 TI. In unaccented w/^^/^ syllables — 
 
 ible is improperly sounded like ubble: visible, vis-ubble. 
 
 il ul : family, fam-uUy, &c. 
 
 isy . . ussy : hypocrisy, hypoc-russy, &:c. 
 
 iiy titty : charity, char-utty, &c. 
 
 o un : agony, agun-ny, &c. 
 
 u e: particular, partic-if-lar, (Sec. 
 
 regular, reg-(?-lar, &c. 
 monument, mon-if-ment. 
 augury, aug-^-ry. 
 
 * Another intermediate sound — namely, between the a in pate, and u in fitr — is 
 sometimes given to the i in virtue, virgin, &c. ; but it is here omitted, on account of 
 its not being very generally adopted. 
 
 + When i ends a syllable immediately before the accent, it is sometimes pronounced 
 long, as in vi-iality, where the first syllable is sounded exactly like the first in vi^, 
 and sometimes short, as in digest, where the i is pronounced as if the word were written 
 de-gest. Consult Walker's "Principles," Nos. I15 10138; also Smart's "Practical 
 Grammar," pp. 113, 134, 
 
 X 'I'he fluctuating sound of the o takes place when is followed by a consonant in 
 the syllable.
 
 Appendix I.] ON ELOCUTION. 427 
 
 III. In unaccented final syllables — 
 
 ed is improperly changed into ud: wicked, wick?/d, (Sec. 
 
 el ul'. gospel, gosp/^1, &c. 
 
 • e7nn uvin : solemn, solemn, &c. 
 
 ence unce : patience, pati?<'nce, &:c. 
 
 ent unt : silent, sil/mt, &:c. 
 
 es uz: wishes, wish//z, &c. 
 
 ess ■ — us : goodness, goodness, &c, 
 
 eth uth : sinneth, sinn7^th, &c. 
 
 up: worship, worship, &:c. 
 
 // . ut : spirit, spir/z-t, &c. 
 
 ite ut : infinite, infin?/t, &c. 
 
 ow 7ir: window, winder, &c. 
 
 The termination ful is sometimes incorrectly pronounced with the 
 short sound of the u : thus, beauti////, dutiful, &c., instead of heauti/ull, 
 duti/ull. Covetous is sometimes pronounced covetshus, for covetous. 
 
 II. SUPPRESSING UNACCENTED VOWELS WHERE THEY SHOULD BE 
 
 SOUNDED, AND SOUNDING THEM WHEN THEY SHOULD BE SUPPRESSED. 
 
 The termination ED in the past tense and participle. 
 
 With respect to the suggestion that the verbal and participial ed should 
 generally be sounded in reading the Church Service, it is deserving of 
 remark, that, though most clergymen admit it to be right in theory, very 
 few are uniform in their practice of it. They adhere to it with tolerable 
 regularity, perhaps, in the unvaried parts of the Service, but they fre- 
 quently neglect it when reading the Psalms, Lessons, and the Gospels ; 
 so that the vowel in ed is sometimes distinctly sounded in one part of 
 the sentence, and suppressed in another. As this irregularity is exceed- 
 ingly prevalent, it ought to be ascribed to some general cause ; and 
 such may be found possessing very extensive, though secret influence, 
 upon the practice of most readers. Their ear inclines them unconsciously 
 to prefer those which are the more harmonious sounds, and the organs 
 of speech naturally slide into that mode of pronunciation which is 
 attended with least effort. 
 
 And here a doubt naturally arises whether the objection which has 
 been urged by Mr. Addison, and by most modern writers on elocution, 
 against the clustering of consonants which is produced by suppressing 
 the vowels, may not have been carried too far. The elision of the e in 
 the verbal termination edst is indeed always harsh ; and that in est is 
 generally so ; and, therefore, is seldom adopted. But the elision in the 
 termination ed is, in many cases, not at all harsh. The consonants may 
 indeed have a crowded appearance to the eye, but they do not sound 
 unpleasantly to the ear ; for instance, the contracted words sinned, 
 oppressed, distressed, may be thought to be barbarous in their look ; but 
 the actual sound of them rhymes with 7vind and Jnd, lest and rest —
 
 428 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix I. 
 
 sounds which surely are not unharmonious. A similar remark may be 
 extended to verbs in which / precedes the terminational ed, as assembl'd, 
 settrd, troubrd, mitigrd, kitidl'd, saddPd, sprinkPd, &c., the sounds of 
 which, as they are usually pronounced in conversation, are not inferior 
 in smoothness and ease of utterance to assem-bied, settled, trou-bled, 
 &c., &c. 
 
 The propriety of sounding or of suppressing the e in the participial and 
 verbal termination ed will depend upon the position of the word. The 
 suppression will be proper when it will promote ease of utterance by 
 lessening the number of unaccented syllables, or prevent an unpleasant 
 tautopho?iy. 
 
 The suppression of the e in the following instances, which occur in 
 the Church Service, would perhaps either promote ease of utterance or 
 prevent harshness of sound : 
 
 I. — Declar'd unto mankind — 
 
 — our fathers have declar'd unto us — 
 
 — number'd with thy saints — 
 
 — sav'd from our e'nemies — ■ 
 
 — order'd by thy governance — 
 
 ■ — -establish'd among us — 
 
 — gather'd together in thy name — 
 
 — scatter'd the proud — 
 
 — promis'd to our forefathers. 
 2. — visited and redeem'd his people. 
 
 — erred and are deceiv'd — 
 
 —afflicted or distress'd. 
 
 In conclusion, it must be mentioned that some clergymen, and even 
 some in the most dignified stations, never make any difference be- 
 tween the pronunciation in reading the language of Scripture and the 
 Church Service, and that which is adopted on all other occasions ; con- 
 ceiving that sufficient distinction is produced by a general solemnity of 
 delivery ; and this course I should advise being adopted. 
 
 In the words aged, beloved, blessed, ciwsed, learned, winged, when used 
 as ADJECTIVES, the final e is seldom suppressed, even in common con- 
 versation, except when compounded with another word ; as ' a fuU-ag'd 
 horse, a sheath-wing'd insect.' It is certainly not to be suppressed in 
 reading the Scriptures or the Liturgy. 
 
 Adverbs formed by adding ly to participial adjectives ending in ed 
 very often retain the sound of ^ in those very words which suppressed it 
 before the composition took place : thus, the e is sounded in assuredly, 
 advisedly, utifeignedly, &c. 
 
 12. — THE TERMINATION EL. 
 
 E before /, in a final unaccented syllable, must always be pronounced 
 distinctly : thus, rebel, chancel, model, afigel, gospel, apparel, lintel, gravel, 
 bowel, &C. 
 
 The exceptions are shekel, 7veasel, ousel, navel, ravel, snivel, hazel, pro- 
 nounced as if written shekle, weasel, &c.
 
 Appendix I.] ON ELOCUTION. 429 
 
 13. THE TERMINATION EN* 
 
 E before «, on the contrary, in a final unaccented syllable, and not 
 preceded by a liquid, should generally be suppressed ; as harden, garden, 
 burden, bounden, roughen, taken, shapen, sharpen, open, chosen, lighten, 
 7vheaten, heathen, strengtheti, burthen, sfmtten, begotten, graven, eleven, 
 heaven, leaven, given, cloven, brazen, flaxen, &c. ; pronounced, hardn, 
 gardn, burdn, &c. 
 
 The same elision takes place in compounds ; as gardner, burdnsome, &c. 
 In the following words — hasten, chasten, fasten, listen, glisten, christen, 
 tnoisten, often, soften, the / is silent as well as the e. 
 
 Even after a liquid, the e is sometimes suppressed ; as m. fallen, stolen, 
 swolle?i ; pronounced /a//«, stoln, swolln. 
 
 The exceptions are few — hyphen, hytnen, aspen, patten, sloven, sudden; 
 kitchen, chicken, pattens, mittens. In these words the e is sounded ; in the 
 last four it has the sound of short /. 
 
 14. THE TERMINATIONS IL AND IN. 
 
 " I before final / and n must be carefully pronounced, the contrary 
 utterance being gross and vulgar : pencil, vigil, pupil, griffin, urchin, resin, 
 germin, Latin. 
 
 " Only four exceptions are admitted, namely, <??'//, devil, raisin, and 
 cousin, pronounced e-vl, dev-vl, rai-zn, cuz-zn." — Smart. 
 
 Most of the words ending in unaccented // and ifi appear to be 
 derived from the Latin, French, or Italian. It is probable that the 
 persons who first introduced them into our language, introduced with 
 them somewhat of the foreign mode of pronouncing these unaccented 
 terminations, which w^ould become current, because it did not interfere 
 with the sound of any other terminations pre-existing in the English 
 tongue. Hence it may be inferred that the terminations il and in have 
 always been sounded distinctly. 
 
 With regard to the exceptions, it is observable that devil and evil are 
 of Anglo-Saxon origin. Of the former, Johnson says, that, on account 
 of its derivation, "it were more properly written divel." (In German, 
 i is sounded e.) Evil also ends with <?/ in the original. Therefore it 
 is not improbable, that, as in numerous other words terminating in 
 el, the e has always been suppressed, and these two words have ever 
 been sounded dev-vl and e-vL All orthoepists adopt this pronunciation. 
 Walker, Smart, Webster, Jameson, &:c. 
 
 Cousin is indeed a French word, but from our national love of pun- 
 ning, it is not unlikely that it has in English been commonly pronounced 
 like the verb to cozen; — so, at least, it was in Shakespeare's time. 
 Hotspur exclaims — 
 
 " Why, what a deal of candied courtesy 
 
 This fawning greyhound then did proffer me ! 
 Look — ' When his infant fortune catne to age'' — 
 And ' Gentle Harry Percy,' — and ' kind cousin' — 
 The devil take such cozeners ! " 
 
 * The remarks under Sections 13, 14, and 15 require the particular notice of those 
 who are inclined to follow the spelling as their guide in pronunciation.
 
 430 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix I. 
 
 15. THE TERMINATION ON. 
 
 The is suppressed in the final unaccented syllable on, preceded by 
 r, k, d,p, s, f, s, as in bacon, beacon, deacon, beckon, reckon ; pardoii; capon ; 
 prison, reaso?i, season, treason, poison, crimson, person, lesson ; cotton ; 
 blazon, &c., pronounced bacn, beacn, &c. 
 
 Walker remarks that " this suppression of the must not be ranked 
 among those careless abbreviations found only among the vulgar, but 
 must be considered as one of those devious tendencies to brevity, which 
 has worn itself a currency in the language, and has at last become a part 
 of it. To pronounce the in those cases where it is suppressed would 
 give a singularity to the speaker bordering nearly on the pedantic ; and 
 the attention given to this singularity by the hearer would necessarily 
 diminish his attention to the subject, and consequently deprive the 
 speaker of something much more desirable." 
 
 The exceptions, particularly observable in solemn speaking, are 
 unison, diapason, horizon, weapon. When xoxn precedes the /, the vowel 
 is pronounced distinctly ; as in wanton, sexton ; and frequently so after 
 / in the names Stilton, Wilton, Melton, Miltofi. It is to be remembered, 
 that in all these words the termination on is sounded un. 
 
 16. — SUPPRESSING THE VOWEL SOUND IN THE TERMINATIONS 
 
 TIOM' AND SION. 
 
 " There is a vicious manner of pronouncing these terminations by 
 giving them a sharp hiss, which crushes the consonants together, and 
 totally excludes the vowels, as if nation, occasion, &c., were written 
 na-shn, occa-shn, &c. These terminations, which are very numerous in 
 the language, ought to be pronounced as distinctly as if written nas/mn, 
 occazliufi." — Walker. 
 
 17. — SUPPRESSING T' WHEN IT OCCURS BETWEEN TWO S' S. 
 
 This fault is frequently observable in pronouncing the following words 
 in the Church Service : lost sheep, Chrisfs sake, hosts, requests, priests ; 
 which are incorrectly sounded as if written loss sheep, Chriss sake, hoss, 
 reqiiess, priess. A similar suppression of / is sometimes heard in saying 
 siibsance, instead ol substance. 
 
 18. — SUPPRESSING ZT WHERE IT OUGHT TO BE SOUNDED; AND 
 INVERSELY. 
 
 H ought always to be sounded at the beginning of words, except in 
 the following and their compounds : heir, heiress, hofiest, honesty, honour, 
 honourable, hour. In humour and its compounds, the first syllable is 
 sounded as if written yeiu. Of late years there has been a decided 
 tendency to give the sound of the weak aspirate to the words human, 
 humorous, and humoursotne, and also in hospital, where it was formerly 
 silent. In the word humble, where the h was formerly quite suppressed 
 in pronunciation, a weak aspirate now generally is given to the //. 
 
 1
 
 Appendix!.] ON ELOCUTION. 431 
 
 19. — SUPPRESSING ZT BEFORE W; ALSO IN SHR ; AND IN THE 
 TERMINATION TH. 
 
 The aspirate h is often improperly suppressed in pronunciation, and 
 we do not find the least distinction between ivJiile and wile, whet and 
 wet, &c. In the pronunciation of words beginning with wh, we ought 
 to breathe forcibly before we pronounce the w. 
 
 The principal exceptions are who, whose, who7n (pronounced hoo, 
 hooze, hoom), 7vhoever, 7vhoso, whosoever, whomsoever ; whole, wholly, 
 7vholesale ; wholesotne, wholesomely, wholesomeness ; whoop — in all which 
 the w is silent. 
 
 The // is sometimes improperly omitted in pronouncing words begin- 
 ning with shr ; thus, shrill, shrink, shrunk, &c., are occasionally sounded 
 as if written srill, srink, srunk, &c. 
 
 The aspirate is likewise dropped by some speakers in the terminational 
 th ; they pronounce sixth, sixthly, &c., as if written, sixt. sixtly, &c. 
 These two latter faults are common, though unnoticed by Walker. 
 
 20. SOUNDING E TOO STRONGLY OR TOO FEEBLY. 
 
 " R has two sounds in our language ; one which may be called rough, 
 and the other smooth. The smooth r ought to be employed only at the 
 end of words, as in bar, lore, bard, dirt, storm ; and at the end of sylla- 
 bles, when r or a vowel does not immediately follow in the next syllable, 
 as in bar-ter, inform-er^ heart-en. In every other case the rough r (accom- 
 panied with a forcible propulsion of the breath and voice) is to be used : 
 as in red, around, bat-rel {r is followed by r in another syllable), peril (r is 
 followed by a vowel in another syllable), tyrant, bring, proud, dethrone. 
 In London, we are too liable to substitute the smooth r in the place of 
 the rough ; and, even in its proper situation, we often pronounce the 
 smooth r with so little exertion in the organs as to make it scarcely any- 
 thing more than the sound of a as heard in father. In Ireland, on the 
 other hand, r, where it ought to be smooth, receives too strong a jar of 
 the tongue, and is accompanied with too strong a breathing. We hear 
 storm, farin, &c., pronounced something like sta7v^-r2i7n, far'-um." * 
 
 The following are common instances in which the r is by some 
 speakers entirely suppressed : Jirsi is converted into fust, wherefore into 
 whuffore, perhaps xnXo pchaps, perform mio peform, mercy into mussy, &c. 
 
 When a word ending with smooth r is followed by a word beginning 
 with a vowel (as bai-e elbozv, nor all your arts), r appears to be in the 
 same situation as r in barrel and peril. In this case, Mr. Smart re- 
 commends the use of the rough r, but not with force. — "Practical 
 Grammar," p. 304. 
 
 21. — SUPPRESSING THE SOUND OF THE FINAL CONSONANTS. 
 
 " One great cause of indistinctness in reading is sinking the sound 
 of final consonants, when they are followed by words beginning with 
 vowels, and of some when the next word begins with a consonant." — 
 Walker. 
 
 * See Appendix to " Lecture on Stammering and Defective Articulation, " where will 
 be found some directions respecting the method of curing a defective utterance of the r.
 
 432 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES. [Appendix I. 
 
 The d in a7id is always to be sounded when a vowel begins the next 
 word, and particularly when that word is the article an. 
 
 When consonant-sounds of different formation immediately succeed 
 each other, the organs must completely finish one before they begin to 
 form the next. If this rule is not attended to, the articulation will not 
 be sufficiently strong. This active separation of the organs in order 
 completely to finish the consonants, when it is a mute, makes the 
 ear sensible of a kind of rebounding. Supposing the following sentence 
 were to be read : ' He received the 7vhole of the reyit before he parted with 
 the land : ' we shall immediately perceive the superior distinctness of 
 pronouncing it with the / and d finished by a smart separation of the 
 organs, and somewhat as if written, 'He rcceive-de the whole of the ren-te 
 bejore he parted-de with the lan-de.' The judicious reader will observe 
 that this rule must be followed with discretion, and that the final con- 
 sonant must not be so pronounced as to form a distinct syllable ; this 
 would be to commit a greater error than that which it was intended to 
 l)revent : but as it may with confidence be asserted that audibility 
 depends chiefly on articulation, so it may be affirmed that articulation 
 depends much on the distinctness with which we hear the final conson- 
 ant; and trifling, therefore, as this observation may appear at first sight, 
 when we consider the importance of audibility, we shall not think any- 
 thing that conduces to such an object below our notice." — Walker. 
 
 2 2. THE TERMINATIONAL NG. 
 
 The terminational ng sound upon the following vowel exactly as they 
 do in singer and bri?iger ; no sound of the g should be heard, as in anger 
 and finger. 
 
 Ex. — Bring-all, among-us, (Sec. — Smart. 
 
 GUIDANCE IN PRONUNCIATION. 
 
 I. The custom of cultivated society is the first guide in pronuncia- 
 tion : e.g., the diphthong ea is commonly sounded like e ; therefore 
 analogy would require great to be pronounced greet ; but custom 
 decidedly prefers grate. 
 
 II. Analogy is the second guide. When custom varies, ascertain 
 how a similar combination of letters in other words is pronounced : e.g., 
 most persons pronounce amo7ig as if it were written amung ; some, how- 
 ever, follow the spelling, and give the alphabetic sound to the o. But 
 as in the syllable 7no>ig in the words monger, mongrel, the sound of u is 
 substituted, analogy is in favour of adopting the same sound in among. — 
 On the same principle, censure is to be pronounced as if written ce7i- 
 shure, because sure, surely, surety, Sec, are sounded as if there were an 
 /i in the words. — Dissyllables, compounded with the syllable "ward," 
 are accented on the frst syllable ; as backniard, forward ; upward, 
 doivnward ; homeward ; o?iward ; 7iortliward, southward; eastward, 
 7iiesttiiard; — therefore analogy requires that the accent should be laid on 
 the first syllable oS. toward rather than on the second. The authority of 
 all pronouncing dictionaries supports the same conclusion. In poetry,
 
 Appendix I.] ON ELOCUTION. 433 
 
 the word is generally pronounced as a monosyllable. — Is it forefather or 
 forefather ? As the accent is on the first syllable in godfather, grand- 
 father, and stepfather, analogy justifies the accent on the first syllable of 
 forefather. 
 
 Guidance may also be obtained in some doubtful instances by observ- 
 ing the strong tendency in pronunciation to shorten in compounded 
 words the vowel or diphthong which is long in the primitive : thus, nd- 
 tio7i, national; Christ, Christian ; globe, globular ; mead, jneadow, &c, — 
 On this principle the a is shortened in sacrament, sacrifice, and the is 
 shortened in knotvledge. 
 
 III. Derivation, either from words in our own or in a foreign lan- 
 guage. When analogy fails, or is conflicting, then consult Derivation. 
 For instance, as receives its alphabetic sound in over and overt, some 
 speakers give it the same sound in covert ; but the derivation of that 
 word from cover will decide the correct pronunciation to be cuvert. — 
 Again, is \t frontlet ox frimtlet ? In some words the syllable ^«i? has the 
 alphabetic sound of the 0, either long, as in the contracted word doji't, 
 or short as m fo?it and f'ofttier ; but a.% frontlet i?, derived horn, front, in 
 which, as well as in affront and confront, is usually sounded as u, the 
 derivation should be pronounced like the primitive. 
 
 IV. Perspicuity. When neither analogy nor derivation will guide, 
 regard should be paid to perspicuity : e.g., if a in haling (dragging) re- 
 ceives the alphabetic sound, the word is liable to be confounded with 
 haili?2g (calling to, speaking to). This doubt will be prevented if the 
 word is pronounced as if written hauling ; and indeed it is now thus 
 usually spelt. In this instance a regard to derivation will assist ; as the 
 word hale is derived from the French verb haler, the sound of the a in 
 the English word may be allowed to resemble that of the French vowel. 
 — Fifty years ago dotne was frequently pronounced doom ; so that the 
 doom of St. Paul's might mean either its fate or its roof. Regard to the 
 spelling now prevents such a mistake, and produces perspicuity. 
 
 V. Euphony, or ease of utterance, will decide the pronunciation in 
 regard to the place of the accent in some doubtful cases. The words 
 corruptible, acceptable, perceptible, susceptible, are more easily pronounced 
 with the stress on the J"^r^;/^ syllable rather than on X}i\& first. — The word 
 pronunciation is smoother when the c is sounded as s, not as s/i, and the 
 word pronounced as li \^ntten pronunseashon, not pronunsheashon. The 
 repetition of the hissing sound of sh is unpleasant. The word " ortho- 
 epist " is more easily pronounced with the accent on the second syllable 
 than on both first and third. Orthbepist requires less effort in utterance 
 than or'tho-epist. The accent is laid on the second syllable in several 
 other similar compounds, orthogonal, orthog'raphy,orthorogy, orthom'etry. 
 
 VI. Orthoepists. When custom varies, and opposite inferences 
 may be drawn from the consideration of analogy, derivation, or euphony, 
 then let the agreement of the majority of orthoepists decide. 
 
 Note. — The student, and those who take an interest in orthoepy, 
 which, like orthography, varies much in the course of centuries, will 
 find in Webster's Dictionary a curious and useful synopsis of words 
 differently pronounced by different orthoepists. 
 
 2 £
 
 4 
 
 ALPHABETICAL LIST. 
 
 A List of Words, occurring in the Scriptures, to be pro- 
 nounced ACCORDING TO THE AUTHORITY OF WaLKER AND LATER 
 
 Writers. — {N.B. Where they differ, the opinion of the majority is 
 followed.) 
 
 *^* The figures refer to the preceding sections 
 
 The accented syllable is distinguished by the acute accent. 
 
 A, article, short, not a, as in the 
 
 first letter of the alphabet. 
 Abhor, {h to be sounded) 
 Above, abuv, not above 
 Absolution, {s sharp) 
 * Accep'-table 
 Ac'-cess 
 
 Accomplish, {o as in not) 
 Acknowledge, ak-nol -ledgc^ 
 Apostolic, ap'-os-tol'-ic 
 Arch-angel, ark-dngel 
 Are, ar {a as in^^r) 
 Authority, aw-thbr-ity 
 Awkward, dwk-wurd 
 
 Aha ! ah-hah' 
 
 Albe'it, all-be-it 
 
 Alienate, die-yen-ate ^ (^) 
 
 Almighty, all-migJi-ty 
 
 Almond, d-mimd (a as in Jar) 
 
 Alms, ajHz (a as mjar) 
 
 Aloes, al-'oze 
 
 Among, amung'~ 
 
 Amongst, amungst 
 
 t And, not end 
 
 % Answer, answer 
 
 Ant, (a as in /at) 
 
 § Any, en-fiy 
 
 Apostle, apos'-sl {p as in not) 
 
 B. 
 
 ft Betroth', betroth, {th as in thin) 
 
 Bier, beer 
 
 Boiled (p as in no) 
 
 Bosom 
 
 Both, not bo-ath 
 
 Break, brake 
 
 Brethren, not bruthren, nor 
 
 breth'-e-rcji 
 Burial, ber-re-al 
 
 f 
 
 Bade, bad 
 
 Balm, bain {a as in Jar) 
 
 Bap-tize', not bap'-tize 
 
 Bath, {a as in far) 
 
 Because,. (^ as z) 
 
 Be-he-moth 
 
 Be-lieve, not blieve 
 
 Beneath, beneeth {th as in this) 
 
 Besom, b'ezum 
 
 * Accep-table.] — Walker regretted that, in his time, this word has shifted its accent 
 from the second to tlie first syllable. It would have afforded him satisfaction to have 
 known that the principle which he recommended has latterly so much prevailed, as to 
 have nearly restored the original pronunciation. His general rule is, that when pox c 
 occurs before t. in words of four syllables, or more than four (as in perceptible, suscep- 
 iible, corrtiptibte, incorruptible, refraclory, refectory , perfunctory , &c.), ease of utterance 
 is much promoted by laying the accent on the syllable ending with the/ or c. 
 
 t And.] — The faulty conversion of and into end is sometimes heard among those 
 v.'ho wish to avoid the opposite fault of making rt^a' emphatic. 
 
 X Answer.]— The a often has, the open sound in this word, as pronounced by some 
 of our best speakers. 
 
 § Any.] — Refer to the remarks under the word "many." If there is reason for con- 
 tinuing to pronounce that word menny, enny will be admitted on the score of affinity. 
 
 II Betroth'.] — But there is a tendency to make the o long.
 
 Appendix I.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION: 435 
 
 Calf, caf {a as mfar) 
 Calm, cam {a as mfar) 
 Catch, not ketch 
 Catholic, {a as in cat) 
 Censure, censhure '° C^) 
 Chamber, chanie-ber 
 Chamberlain, chatne-ber-lin 
 Charity, {a as in chat) 
 Chasten, chase-sn ^^ 
 Chastity ^ 
 
 Chastisement, chds -tiz-mejit ' 
 Children, not childern 
 Christianity, chris-ie-dn-ity *^ 
 Clothes, clothze or cloze 
 Concu-piscence 
 
 C. 
 
 Condemn, {ii silent) 
 Conduit, kun-dit 
 Conquer, kong-kur 
 Conqueror, kong-kur-ur 
 Con'trite 
 * Cor-rup'-tible 
 Courteous, not curtyus 
 Covert, kuv-vurt'^ 
 Covetous, kiw-e-tiis "^ 
 Could, (/ silent) 
 Couldest, (/ and e silent) 
 Coulter, koletur 
 Courtesy, {curtesy) 
 Cru-el, not crool 
 Cruse, krooz 
 
 D. 
 
 Deacon, de-kn'^^ 
 Defend', not defend 
 Decease, s not z 
 Design, desine (not z) 
 Desist, desist (not z) 
 De-spite' 
 t Deuteron'omy 
 Devil, devl^^ 
 Devilish, dev-vl-ish ^* 
 
 Ear, r\o\. year 
 
 Ecclesiastic, ec-cle-zhe-as-tic ^ 
 
 X Either, c-ther, or either 
 
 Em-e-rods, {em as in them) 
 
 % Endow, ow as in down, not as 
 
 in blow 
 Engine, enjht 
 Epistle, e-pis-sl 
 
 De-liv'-er, not de-liv-er 
 Demon, demun ^^ 
 Diamond, di-a-mund'^'-^ 
 Discern, diz-zern' 
 Dissemble, not dizzemble 
 Draught, draft 
 
 Drought, drout, not drouth, 
 draitt 
 
 E. 
 
 Ere, air 
 
 Errand, not arrand 
 
 Error, not urror 
 
 Evil, e-vl^^ 
 
 Ewe, yu 
 
 II Ever-las'-ting 
 
 Ex'-orcist 
 
 * Corruptible.] — See note on "acceptable." 
 
 t Deuteronomy.] — Accordingto analogy, in all other words compounded with deutero, 
 the thh-d syllable is accented : deuterogamist, dcuterS^^amy, deiiterSpathy, deiiterSscopy. 
 
 X Either.]— The general sound of ei in English words is a or e, there being only four 
 words, height, sleight, heigh-ho, eider, in which it has the sound of i. To give it this 
 sound in either and neither is a modern fashion, contrary to the strongest analogies, 
 and discountenanced by most orthoepists and many public speakers, who agree in 
 jireferring ether and nether. The words come from the Saxon ; therefore i?/ in the first 
 syllable is not the Greek diphthong Et. 
 
 § Endow.] — In all derivations, dower, dowry, doimger. Sec, the same sound of ow is 
 adopted. 
 
 II Everlasting.]— In this word, the primary accent may be transferred to the first 
 syllable of " ever," if the sentiments should require it. (Grant's Gram., p. 167.)
 
 436 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Appendix T. 
 
 Father, {a as in far) 
 
 Fellow, fel-Io (o as in no) 
 
 First-fruits 
 
 Flay, x\oifle 
 
 Follow, fol-lo (o as in no) 
 
 Folk, foke 
 
 * Forefathers 
 
 t God, (o as in nof) 
 Gold, (o as in no) 
 I Great, graie 
 
 Hallelujah, hallehiyah 
 Hallow, {a as in fa?i) 
 Half, haf {a as in far) 
 Hatred, (not ha-ter-ed) 
 Have, "(//Jz') 
 Heard, herd 
 Hearth, hdrth 
 Height, kite not hightk 
 Heresy, not her-e-zy 
 
 I, not aye 
 Idol, not idle 
 
 Incarnation, not inairnation 
 Infinite, in-fe-?iit^ 
 
 Jealousy, {s not z) 
 
 Forge 
 
 Forget, ViOtforgit'^ 
 Forthwith, {th as in thin) 
 Frailty, frale-ty 
 Front, frunt " 
 Frontlet, fruntlet 
 
 G. 
 
 Greaves, greves 
 Gross, {o as in no) 
 
 H. 
 
 Herewith', {ih as in thin) 
 Heretofore, here-too-fore 
 Hinder, adj. 
 Hindermost 
 Horn-age 
 
 Hundred, not hunderd 
 Hymn, him 
 Hypocrisy, {s not z) 
 Hypocrite, iiyp-o-crit 
 
 I. 
 
 Inspiration, insperation 
 Instead, insted', not instid! 
 Iron, i-tirn 
 § Issue, ish-shu '^ {^) 
 
 J- 
 
 Justice, not jestice" 
 
 K. 
 
 Knowledge, nol-ledge ^ 
 
 Leasing, leazing Libertines, Lib'-er-tins 
 
 Length {g sounded), not lejith Linen, lin-nin 
 
 Lep'er 1 1 Lord, {o as in 7wr) 
 Leprosy, {s not z) 
 
 * Forefather.]— According to the authority of orthoepists. 
 
 t God.]— The short o and the d must be distincily sounded, so that the word may 
 never be corrupted into Gad, Gaud, Gode, Got. 
 
 X Great.] — Custom is so decided in pronouncing ea in this word like ea in i^ear and 
 hear, that to sound it otherwise is generally considered affectation. 
 
 § Issue.] — But many now pronounce this word isseiv, and Mr. Gladstone so pro- 
 nounces it. 
 
 II Lord.] — Care must be taken to sound the o and r distinctly and fully in this word, 
 to prevent it from being changed into such sounds as the following, which are occa- 
 sionally heard : Lard, Liird, Lod, Lode, Lonid, Lud, Laud.
 
 Appendix I.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 437 
 
 * Many, fuejiny 
 t Manifold, man'-e-fold 
 Master, {a as in far) ^ 
 Marry, {a as in mat, not /ar) 
 Mediator, nie-di-a-tur"^ {^) 
 
 Nature, na-fcJmre^ 
 Natural, ?iat-tcfui-ral ^ 
 National, nash-un-al^ 
 X Neither, nether or nither 
 
 Oaths, othz {th as in this) 
 Ob-tain, not obe-tain 
 Oblige, oblidge 
 Of-fences, not o-fences 
 Often, of-fn i^ 
 
 M. 
 
 Medicine, med-e-sin 
 Merchant, not manhant 
 Mine, not mzn 
 Miracle, (/ as in pin) 
 
 N. 
 
 Nephew, nevvew 
 
 None, nun 
 
 § No-table, not not-able 
 
 O. 
 
 One, wun^ 
 Once, wunse^ 
 Only, owfily, not only 
 Op-press, not o-press 
 Or-di-na-ry or ord-na-ry 
 
 r. 
 
 Person, per-sn ^^ 
 
 Persuasion, per-sua-zhun ^ {") 
 
 Persuasive, (s sharp ||) 
 
 Pitied, pit-id ^ (^) 
 
 Pour, pore 
 
 Pomegranate, pum-gran -nat 
 
 Po'-ten-tate 
 
 Pontius, Font-ius 
 
 Pre-cept 
 
 Preside, {z not s) 
 
 President, prez-e-dcnt 
 
 % Princess, noX. princess 
 
 Paradise, {a as in 7?iat) 
 Pardon, pai--dn ^^ 
 Pardonable, par-d7i-a-bl ^^ 
 Pardoning, par-dn-ing^^ 
 Pa'-rent, x\oi par-etit 
 Parliament, par-le-ment 
 Path, (a as in far; th as in thin) 
 Paths, pathz {th as in this) 
 Pa-tri-arch 2 (^) 
 Perform, {0 as in not) 
 Peril, per'-il, not pur-il 
 Perhaps, {h to be sounded) 
 
 * ]\Iany.] — General custom favours this pronunciation, which has probably always 
 been the sound of the word, derived from the Saxon word mcenig. Amongst old 
 writers it was often written menie or meyny. 
 
 t Manifold.] — Etymology would require this word to be pronounced mennyfold, but 
 custom decides otherwise. A similar deviation prevails in the preposition to-wards, in 
 which has its regular sound, though the primitive word to is sounded like the adverb 
 too. 
 
 + Neither.] — See remarks under the word "either." 
 
 § Notable.] — i.e., remarkable. Abatable s\gn\^&s carefitl or bustling. 
 
 II S in the adjective termination sive is always sharp and hissing. 
 
 IT Princess.] — According to the present fashion this word is accented on the second 
 syllable. This change in the accentuation may be ascribed probably to the fact that 
 the possessive case of the word has come into frequent use in connection with a modern 
 theatre. Ease of utterance has great influence on pronunciation. As it is more diffi- 
 cult to say "The Prin'cess's" than "The Princess's," therefore the latter accentuation 
 is generally adopted. But is this a sufficient reason why the word in any other case 
 than the possessive should lose its original accent on the prst syllable ? If it is, ana- 
 logy would require that we should say "Countess, Marchioness, Duchess." Still, 
 however, the word is allowed to retain the accent on the first syllable when the next 
 word has the accent on that syllable. Every one speaks of the " Piincess Alice,"' 
 not of the "Princess Alice." 
 
 .
 
 438 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES 
 
 [Appendix I, 
 
 Prison, priz-zn ^^ 
 Prisoner, priz-zn-ur ^^ 
 Process, pros'-ess 
 Prophecy, s. prof-fe-se 
 Prophesy, v. prof-fe-si 
 Propitiation, pro-pish-e-d-shun ^ (^ 
 Proving, prooving 
 Psalm, sam {a as in^r) 
 
 Psalmist, sai-mist {a as in Jar) 
 Psalmody, sal-mo-de {a as xxvfar) 
 Punish, not poo-nish 
 Punishment, not poo-nish-ment 
 Pursue, pur-si'i ^ (') not purshu 
 Push, poosh 
 Put, {u as in bulf) 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quantity, {a Hke o in not) 
 R. 
 
 Raisin, ra-zfi 
 Rather, not ruther 
 Ravening, rd-vn-ing 
 Reason, re-z7iy not resun ^^ 
 
 Reasonable, re-zn-a-bl ^^ 
 Rec-oncile, not re-cojicile 
 Revolt, (<? as in bolt) 
 Rule, root, not re-iiW^ 
 
 S. 
 
 Shall, neither shull nor shawl 
 
 Shalt, not shidt 
 
 Shew, shotv 
 
 Should, (/ silent) 
 
 Shouldest, (/ and e silent) 
 
 S6d-er 
 
 Soften, sof-fn ^^ 
 
 Sojourn, sb-Juni (zi as in tub) 
 
 Sojourner, so-Jurji-ur 
 
 Solace, sol' las 
 
 Spirit, not sper-it^ nor spur-it 
 
 % Staves, //. of staff, rhymes with 
 
 calves in some instances, but not 
 
 in general. 
 Starry, {a as vafat^ 
 Strength, {g sounded) 
 Subject', verb 
 
 * Sab^oth 
 
 t Sabbath-day, (only one accent) 
 
 Sac-ra-ment ^ 
 
 Sac-ra-ment-al ^ 
 
 Sacrifice, s. sdk-kre-fice 
 
 Salvation, not sulvation 
 
 X Satan 
 
 Says, sez 
 
 Scarceness, {a as infate) 
 
 Schism, siz}n 
 
 Scourge, sktirje {ii as in tub) 
 
 Season, se-zn^^ 
 
 Second, sck-ku?id, not sek-knd 
 
 Seethe, {th as in this) 
 
 Selves, not stilves 
 
 Sepulchre, sep'-ul-kur^ {u as in tub ] 
 
 Sew, sozv 
 
 * Sabaoth.] — As custom varies in the pronunciation of this purely Hebrew word, the 
 authority of the Masoretic punctuation induces some to pronounce it Sa-ba-oth ; by 
 which mode it is prevented from being confounded with Sabbath. 
 
 t Sabbath-day.] — When two substantives are compounded, one accent is commonly 
 used instead of two. "Thus we should say, the war minister, if there were no other 
 ministers of state beside that one ; but as there are others, we say the 'tvar 7>iinister, 
 with a reference to the others." — Sinart. On the same principle, only one accent is 
 given to Shbbatk-day, mhn-servant, maid-servatit,judgtne7it-seat, &c. 
 
 + Sa-tan.] — The first a is long in the Hebrew : short in the Latin and Greek. (Care 
 must be taken not to pronounce it as if spelt Sa-tn.) 
 
 + Sa-tan.] — Also pronounced "Sat-an" — a custom originating perhaps in the practice 
 of some Greek and Latin versifiers of the middle and modem ages, who shortened the 
 first vowel in the word " Satanas ;" but as the English version both of the New as 
 well of the Old Testament adopts the original I/ebrew word, in which the first vowel 
 is long according to the Masoretic punctuation, " Sa-tan " appears to be the preferable 
 mode of pronunciation. — Care must be taken not to convert it into " Sa-tn." 
 
 § Staves.] — This pronunciation, which analogy justifies, is adopted by some who are 
 generally considered veiy correct speakers. Walker makes it rhyme with caves. 
 
 f
 
 Appendix I.] 
 
 ON ELOCUTION. 
 
 439 
 
 Subjec'-ted, part. adj. 
 Subtil, suttl 
 Subtilly, siittilly 
 Subtilty, not sub-tl-ty 
 
 Such, not setch "^ 
 Suit, not shiite^ (^) 
 Sworn, {o as tio ; w sounded) 
 Synagogue, sin-a-gog 
 
 T. 
 
 Toward, {o as in no) 
 Towards, tb-urdz 
 Treason, tre-zn ^^ 
 Treasonable, tre-zn-a-bl 
 Troth 
 
 Tab-ret 
 
 Talk, tawk 
 
 Terrible, not turrible 
 
 Testimony, testimun-y ^ 
 
 Thanks, not thenks^ 
 
 Thanks'-giving (accent on the first) Truths, {th as in thin) 
 
 Than, not then '-* True, troo, not tre-ew "' 
 
 Thraldom, thrawl-dum 
 
 U. 
 Underneath, t/nder/iethe, {th as in this) 
 
 V. 
 
 Value, val-yoo, not valoo Virtue, vir-tchu ^ 
 
 * Venison, ven-zn Virtuous, vir-tchii-us 
 
 Ver-y, not viir-i-y Volume, vol-yutne 
 
 Victuals, vittlz Vouch-safe', {ch sounded) 
 
 \\\ 
 
 Walk, wajtk 
 
 Wast, wost 
 
 t Weapon, wep-piin ^ 
 
 Whereof, hware-of {o as in not) 
 
 unless emphatic 
 Wherefore, hware-fore 
 Whereunto, hware-un-too 
 Who, hoo 
 Whom, hooin 
 Whose, hooze 
 Whole, hole 
 Wholly, hoie-ly 
 Wicked, wik-id 
 Wickedness, wik-id-ness 
 
 Wi-li-ness 
 
 With, {th as in this) 
 Womb, wootn 
 Women, wim-miii 
 Wonder, wiinder^ 
 Wont, wunt ; not ivant 
 Worship, wurship ^ 
 Would, taood 
 Wouldest, (/ and e silent) 
 Wound, woond 
 Wrap, not wrop 
 Wrath, rawth 
 Wrestle {t silent) 
 "Wroth, roth {o as in 7iot) 
 
 Yea, yay 
 Yellow, yel-Io 
 Yours, {s as z) 
 
 Yonder, not yarjdcr, yender, nor 
 
 yiindcr 
 Youths, {th as in thin) 
 
 Zealot, zcl-ut- 
 
 Zealous, zel-us 
 
 * Venison.] — Walker advises that this word should be a tri-syllable in reading the 
 language of Scripture ; but general custom is against him. If his suggestion were 
 adopted, a similar principle ought to be extended to victuals, and business. 
 
 + Weapon.] — Wep-f>n, according to Walker.
 
 APPENDIX II. 
 
 Lord Brougham's letter of advice — Lord Stanley's speech at University College — 
 Lord Stanhope's speech at Aberdeen — "The Bishops, the Clergy, and the People " 
 — Fraser's yJ/o^az/w^— Contemporary orators — "A Few Words about Sermons" — 
 Cornhill Magazine — " On Clergyman's Sore Throat" — Voices — Pulpit Oratory — 
 Musical Society of London — A Movable Model of the Larynx — The Phonograph 
 and the Microphone — The Telephone — The Edison Telephone — The Edison Tele- 
 phone in London — The Origin of Language — Future of the English Stage — A 
 French Actor's View of the English Stage and English Elocution. 
 
 LORD BROUGHAM'S ADVICE TO THE LATE LORD 
 MACAULAY, ON ENTERING LIFE. 
 
 In 1823, when Lord Brougham was at the mature age of forty-four, 
 he addressed the following letter to Lord (then Mr.) Macaulay's father, 
 Z. Macaulay, Esq. : — 
 
 " My Dear Friend, — My principal object in writing to you to-day is 
 to offer you some suggestions, in consequence of some conversation I have 
 just had with Lord Grey, who has spoken of your son (at Cambridge) in 
 terms of the greatest praise. He takes his account from his son ; but 
 from all I know, and have learnt in other quarters, I doubt not that his 
 judgment is well formed. Now, you of course destine him for the bar ; 
 and assuming that this, and the public objects incidental to it, are in his 
 views, I would fain impress upon you (and through you, upon him) a truth 
 or two which experience has made me aware of, and which I would have 
 given a good deal to have been acquainted with earlier in life from the 
 experience of others. 
 
 " First. That the foundation of all excellence is to be laid in early 
 application to general knowledge is clear; that he is already aware of; 
 and equally so it is (of which he may not be so well aware) that profes- 
 sional eminence can only be attained by entering betimes into the lowest 
 drudgery, the most repulsive labours of the profession ; even a year in an 
 attorney's office, as the law is now practised, I should not hold too severe 
 a task, or too high a price to pay, for the benefit it must surely lead to ; 
 but at all events, the life of a special pleader, I am quite convinced, is the 
 thing before being called to the bar. A young man whose mind has once 
 been imbued with general learning, and has acquired classical propensities, 
 will never sink into a mere drudge. He will always save himself harmless 
 from the dull atmospheie he must live and work in ; and the sooner he
 
 Appendix II.] KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES ON ELOCUTION. 441 
 
 will emerge from it, and arrive at eminence. But what I wish to inculcate 
 especially, with a view to the great talent for public speaking which your 
 son happily possesses, is that he should cultivate that talent in the only 
 way in which it can reach the height of the art : and I wish to turn his 
 attention to two points. I speak upon this subject with the authority both 
 of experience and observation ; I have made it very much my study in 
 theory ; have written a great deal upon it which may never see the light ; 
 and something which has been published ; have meditated much, and 
 conversed much on it with famous men ; have had some little practical 
 experience in it, but have prepared for much more than I ever tried, by a 
 variety of laborious methods ; reading, writing, much translation, compos- 
 ing in foreign languages, &c. ; and I have lived in times when there were 
 great orators among us ; therefore I reckon my opinion worth listening to, 
 and the rather, because I have the utmost confidence in it myself, and I 
 should have saved a world of trouble and much time had I started with a 
 conviction of its truth. 
 
 " I. The first point is this : The beginning of the art is to acquire a habit 
 of easy speaking ; and in whatever way this can be had (which individual 
 inclination or accident will generally direct, and may safely be allowed to 
 do so) it must be had. Now, I differ from all other doctors of rhetoric in 
 this ; I say let him first of all learn to speak easily and fluently ; as well 
 and as sensibly as he can no doubt, but at any rate let him learn to speak. 
 This is to eloquence, or good public speaking, what the being able to talk 
 in a child is to correct grammatical speech. It is the requisite foundation; 
 and on it you must build. Moreover, it can only be acquired young ; 
 therefore let it by all means, and at any sacrifice, be gotten hold of forth- 
 with. But in acquiring it every sort of slovenly error will also be acquired. 
 It must be got by a habit of easy writing (which, as Windham said, proved 
 hard reading) ; by a custom of talking much in company ; by debating in 
 speaking societies, with little attention to rule, and mere love of saying 
 something at any rate, than of saying anything well. I can even suppose 
 that more attention is paid to the matter in such discussions than to the 
 manner of saying it ; yet still to say it easily, ad libitum, to be able to say 
 what you choose, and what you have to say. This is the first requisite ; 
 to acquire which, everything else must for the present be sacrificed. 
 
 " 2. The next step is the grand one ; to convert the style of easy speak- 
 ing into chaste eloquence. And here there is but one rule. I do earnestly 
 entreat your son to set daily and nightly before him the Greek models. 
 First of all he may look to the best modern speeches (as he probably has 
 already) ; Burke's best compositions, as the Thoughts on the Cause of the 
 present Discontents ; Speech on the American Conciliation, and On the 
 Nabob of Arcofs Debt ; Fox's Speech on the Westminster Scrutitiy (the first 
 of which he should pore over till he has it by heart) ; On the Russiati 
 Armament ; and On the War, 1803 ; with one or two of Windham's best, 
 and very few, or rather none, of Sheridan's ; but he must by no means 
 stop here ; if he would be a great orator he must go at once to the fountain- 
 head, and be familiar with every one of the great orations of Demosthenes. 
 I take it for granted that he knows those of Cicero by heart : they are 
 very beautiful, but not very useful, except perhaps the Milo pro Ligario,
 
 442 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 and one or two more ; but the Greek must positively be the model ; and 
 merely reading it, as boys do, to know the language, won't do at all ; he 
 must enter into the spirit of each speech, thoroughly know the position of 
 both parties, follow each turn of the argument, and make the absolutely 
 perfect, and most chaste and severe composition familiar to his mind. His 
 taste will improve every time he reads and repeats to himself (for he should 
 have the fine passages by heart), and he will learn how much may be done 
 by a skilful use of a few words, and a rigorous rejection of all superfluities. 
 In this view I hold a familiar knowledge of Dante to be next to Demos- 
 thenes. It is in vain to say that imitations of these models won't do for 
 our times. First, I do not counsel any imitation, but only an imbibing of 
 the same spirit. Secondly, I know from experience that nothing is half so 
 successful in these times (bad though they be) as what has been formed 
 on the Greek models. I use a very poor instance in giving my own 
 experience ; but I do assure you that both in course of law and Parliament, 
 and even to mobs, I have never made so much play (to use a very modern 
 phrase) as when I was almost translating from the Greek. I composed 
 the peroration of my speech for the Queen, in the Lords, after reading and 
 repeating Demosthenes for three or four weeks, and I composed it twenty 
 times over at least, and it certainly succeeded in a very extraordinary 
 degree, and far above any merits of its own. This leads me to remark, 
 that though speaking with writing beforehand is very well until the habit 
 of easy speech is acquired, yet after that he can never write too much ; this 
 is quite clear. It is laborious, no doubt ; and it is more difficult beyond 
 comparison than speaking off-hand ; but it is necessary to perfect oratory, 
 and at any rate it is necessary to acquire the habit of correct diction. 
 But I go further, and say, even to the end of a man's life he must prepare, 
 word for word, most of his finer passages. Now, would he be a great 
 orator or no .'' In other words, would he have almost absolute power of 
 doing good to mankind in a free country, or no 1 So he wills this, he 
 must follow these rules. — BeHeve me, yours, H. Brougham." 
 
 LORD STANHOPE'S SPEECH AT ABERDEEN. 
 
 " Now there is one scene of success to which you may think my remarks 
 will not apply. I mean speeches, such as you hear in public assemblies — 
 in the Houses of Lords and Commons, for example — where you find an 
 extemporaneous and immediate reply delivered with great force and effect, 
 to some speech which has only just been uttered. You will find, if you 
 consider this more closely, that the power of making such quick replies is 
 only to be gained by great study and by slow degrees. And I will give 
 you on this subject the opinion of one of the most •judicious, perhaps the 
 most judicious writer who ever wrote upon the subject. I will give you a 
 sentence from the great work of Ouintilian. Does Quintilian think that 
 the mere extemporaneous faculty or power of speaking is derived from 
 genius alone ? He says ' Sine hac quidem conscientia (multum in scribendo 
 laborem insumpsisse) ilia ipsa ex tempore dicendi facultas inanem modo
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 443 
 
 loquacitatem dabit et verba in labris nascentia,' Observe that happy ex- 
 pression — 'verba in labris nascentia.' Now I ask you, may not these 
 words remind you of that sort of rant which we sometimes hear on some 
 hustings, and is not this empty babble wholly distinct from that measured, 
 well-considered wisdom which we find to proceed from the leaders of 
 opposite parties in the House? Does it not show, in the clearest manner, 
 that, in the language of Ouintilian, study makes the difference between the 
 mere flow of words, and the real power of addressing argument, and wit, and 
 eloquence, in immediate reply? To make this still clearer to you, I would 
 venture to illustrate my meaning by a story derived from a different career 
 of success. It is related in Italy of a painter, that, having produced a 
 most powerful, though perhaps unfinished, picture, in three days, he asked 
 as its price a hundred sequins. It is said that the churlish patron demurred 
 at the price, saying that the sum seemed to him excessive for the work of 
 three days. ' But what ! ' cried the indignant artist, ' do you forget that I 
 have been thirty years in learning how to make this picture in three days ? ' 
 When, therefore, you see an immediate reply proceed from some of the 
 great leaders of public opinion, do not deceive yourselves by the idea that 
 this was a mere burst of extemporaneous genius, but be assured that 
 there has been study, persevering study, to give the power and faculty of 
 this outburst, which seemed to spring up at the moment, and that there is 
 a deeper source than that moment could supply. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I feel tempted at this place to state to you, from the 
 highest authority, some of the means by which that important gift of 
 readiness of speech can be most easily and completely acquired. And 
 you will observe that the power of extemporaneous speaking is not con- 
 fined merely, so far as utility goes, to men engaged in public life, but 
 may in many circumstances in private life be found of great advantage. 
 Perhaps you may like to hear some practical advice which came from a 
 man of the highest reputation on this point. No man possessed that 
 power of using in his oratory the right word in the right place — no man 
 carried that gift to a higher degree of perfection, as all parties have 
 owned — than Mr. Pitt. Now my father had the honour to be connected 
 in relationship with that great man — and, as such, he had the privilege 
 of being in the house with him sometimes for many weeks together. 
 Presuming on that familiar intercourse, he told me, he ventured on one 
 occasion to ask Mr, Pitt by what means — by what course of study — he 
 had acquired that admirable readiness of speech — that aptness of finding 
 the right word without pause or hesitation. Mr. Pitt replied that what- 
 ever readiness he might be thought to possess in that respect, he believed 
 that he derived it very much from a practice his father — the great Lord 
 Chatham — had recommended to him. Lord Chatham had bid him take 
 up any book in some foreign language with which he was well acquainted, 
 in Latin, Greek, or French, for example. Lord Chatham then enjoined 
 him to read out of this work a passage in English, stopping where he was 
 not sure of the word to be used in English, until the right word came to 
 his mind, and then proceed. Mr. Pitt states that he had assiduously 
 followed this practice. At first he had often to stop for a while before he 
 could recollect the proper word, but he found the difficulties gradually
 
 444 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 disappear, until what was a toil to him at first, became at last an easy and 
 familiar task. Of course I do not mean to say, that with men in general, 
 the same success as in the case of Mr. Pitt, or anything like it, would be 
 found to follow this same course of practice ; although I am able to assure 
 you from other cases I have known, that an experiment of this kind is of 
 great use in removing the difficulties of extemporaneous speaking ; and it 
 not only gives its aid in public speaking, but also in written composition. 
 Moreover, you will find this course has the further advantage of confirming 
 and extending your knowledge of some valuable author who has already 
 been made the subject of study ; and on these grounds it is, as I conceive, 
 by no means unworthy of your adoption." 
 
 LORD STANLEY'S SPEECH AT UNIVERSITY COLLEGE. 
 
 "Gentlemen, there is one characteristic of this College, as of the 
 University of which it forms part, which ought not to pass without notice. 
 You were among the first to break in upon the old routine which practically 
 almost limited English teaching to classical and mathematical studies. 
 Here, too, the older Universities have followed your lead ; but though much 
 has been done in that respect both at Oxford and Cambridge, yet practi- 
 cally it is there the case that classical and mathematical proficiency secure 
 the highest prizes and the most valuable endowments, while the other more 
 recent branches of study are comparatively unendowed. In this place I 
 am told it is otherwise, and that the student who has taken the highest 
 honours in Natural Philosophy, in Modern Languages, in History, or any 
 other of the branches of study for which prizes have been conferred to-day, 
 is not looked upon as in any way inferior to one whose special acquire- 
 ments may have lain in the direction of Latin and Greek, I am glad also 
 to learn that much stress is laid by those who direct the course of teaching 
 here, on a thorough and scietitific knowledge of that language with which 
 we as Englishmen are most concerned, — / mean our own. No word will 
 fall from me in disparagement of classical literature ; I know its value too 
 well ; but it seems strange that in a country where so many students are 
 familiar with every dialect of Greek, and every variety of classical style, 
 there should be comparatively so few who have really made themselves 
 acquainted with the origin, the history, and the gradual development into 
 its present form of that mother-tongue which is already spoken over half 
 the world, which is destined to yet further geographical extension, and 
 which embodies many of the noblest thoughts that have ever issued from 
 the brain of man. To use words with precision and accuracy, one ought 
 to know their history as well as their present meaning. And, depend 
 upon it, it is the plain Saxon phrase, far more than any term borrowed 
 from Greek or Roman literature, that, whether in speech or in writing, 
 goes straightest and strongest to men's heads and hearts. 
 
 " We have heard at the Bar, or in Parliament, men whose instantaneous 
 command of words, whose readiness of thought as well as expression, seems 
 the effect of instinct rather than of training. But what is the secret of
 
 Appendix II.J ON ELOCUTION: 445 
 
 that readiness ? Why, ahnost always it is this, — that the mind has 
 previously been so exercised on similar subjects, that not merely the 
 necessary words, but the necessary arguments and combinations of thought, 
 have become by practice as intuitive as those motions of the body by 
 which we walk, or speak, or do any familiar and every-day act." 
 
 THE BISHOPS, THE CLERGY, AND THE PEOPLE. 
 Eraser's Magazine^ No. 182, Vol. XXXL 
 
 " We repeat, that this mode of slurring the Liturgy is productive of 
 positive injtcry. When the prayers and lessons are mumbled over in 
 this sing-song way (the derisive name in the sixteenth century was ' Mum- 
 ble-Matins '), much of the devotion of the Jirst, and even more of the 
 instruction of the second, are lost. ' You preach the prayers,' is the retort 
 of the intoners to their objecting brethren. Now there may be, and often 
 is, justice in the censure ; but because Tomkins cannot play one of 
 Mozart's masses upon the organ, is Bumble to try it on the hiirdy-gtirdy ? 
 Because A declaims Paul's pleading before Agrippa, as if he were Sir 
 Thomas Wilde personating the indignation of Mr. Carus Wilson at some 
 Jersey jurat, is that any reason why B should drop all emphasis, and stifle 
 every inflection of feeling, as if he were a Westminster scholar at Trinity, 
 determined to outrage the Dean ? The fact is, and, however mortifying, 
 it ought to be told, that very few of the English Clergy know how to read. 
 We can, if required, produce the highest authority for this assertion. 
 We have ourselves heard the late Bishop of London * express his surprise 
 at the getieral deficiency in this most essential accomplishment, even among 
 the clergy of his own diocese. Yet why should he be surprised ? Who 
 can learn except he be taught ? And, however favourable the Poetics of 
 Aristotle, or the Mechanics of Whewell, may be to the growth of spiritual 
 qualities, their most ardent admirers will scarcely claim for them any 
 beneficial influence upon elocution. A partial remedy is easy and 
 at hand. There is already, in full operation at Cambridge, a Theo- 
 logical Examination for students who have taken their B.A. degree. It 
 is familiarly known as ' The Involuntary Voluntary ; ' for, while the Uni- 
 versity leaves it open, many of the Bishops have announced their inten- 
 tion of refusing ordination to all candidates who have not passed it. 
 Now, let reading the Liturgy form a branch of this examination, and let 
 the certificate of the Examiner be essential to afiy Eriday interview at Lon- 
 don House. We confess that one obstacle remains to be removed, and 
 that is, the difficulty of finding an examiner, although unquestionably it 
 is possible to be a judge of reading, without being able to read ; just as 
 one may appreciate a landscape of Claude without having power to 
 paint it." 
 
 * Blomfield.
 
 446 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 CONTEMPORARY ORATORS. 
 
 Fraser's Magazine, No. 184, Vol. XXXI. 
 
 "Anti-Corn-Law Leagues, and Agricultural Protection Societies; 
 Exeter Hall enthusiasts, and Crown and Anchor brawlers ; holders of 
 ' monster ' meetings, and Protestant Operative Associations ; Ministerial 
 speeches at anniversary dinners, and Chartist harangues to the dregs of 
 the populace : each and all, though opposed as the poles in the principles 
 they propound and the objects they seek to attain, agree, with a marvel- 
 lous unanimity only paralleled by the instinct of self-preservation, in sub- 
 mitting their cause to the suffrage of the people, and in seeking to impart 
 in the discussions of the legislature an influence in their favour derived 
 from the public out of doors. The whole empire is from time to time under 
 tlie influence of public speakers. Oratory is a severe and exacting art. 
 Its object is not merely to excite the passions or sway the judgment, but 
 also to produce models for the delight or admiration of mankind. // 
 is a sttcdy which will not brook a divided attention. The orator speaks 
 rarely, and at long intervals, during which he saturates his mind with his 
 subject, while casting it in the mould to which his taste guides him. But 
 the exigencies of modern political warfare have called into being a class of 
 public speakers, whose effusions fall as far short of those of the professed 
 orator in permanent beauty as they excel them in immediate utility. The 
 most popular and powerful speakers in the House are those who, rejecting 
 the beautiful, apply themselves to the practical." 
 
 A FEW WORDS ABOUT SERMONS. 
 CortiMll Magazine, May 1861. 
 
 " And who is in fault — the preachers or the people ? I am about to 
 demonstrate that the preachers and the people are both in fault, and to 
 weigh out to each their due proportion of censure, as impartially as if 
 Themis held the scales herself. 
 
 " In themselves sermons are no worse than they were before, and no 
 better ; but the people are better, that is to say, they expect something 
 better than their grandfathers expected. The constant reading of leading 
 articles in newspapers, and ' crack ' articles in magazines, has created an 
 appetite for luxury in composition. Even the unwashed know something 
 of the difference between good writing and mere declamation ; the school- 
 master has been abroad long enough to make them at home at least in 
 the English language. 
 
 " A modern congregation is probably not more anxious for improvement 
 tlian a congregation of the time of Oueen Anne ; but it is certainly more 
 attentive, and, unfortunately for the preacher, it is certainly more critical. 
 
 I
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. i,i,-j 
 
 It has no idea of taking him, personally, at his own valuation. Nor is it 
 by any means prepared even to take his assertions, indiscriminately, for 
 ' gospel.' 
 
 " All this time the clergy have been stationary. In Greek and Latin, 
 no doubt, they have advanced as fast as their age, or faster. University 
 men now write Greek Iambics, as every one knows, rather better than 
 Sophocles, and would no more think of violating the Pause than of 
 violating an oath. A good proportion of them also are perfectly at home 
 in the calculation of perihelions, nodes, mean motions, and other 
 interesting things of the same kind, which it is unnecessary to specify 
 more particularly. So far the clergy are at least on a level with their 
 age. But this is all that can be said. When we come to their tnother- 
 tongiie a different story is to be told. Their English — the English of their 
 sermons — is nearly where it was a hundred years ago. The author 
 of ' Twenty Years in the Church ' makes the driver of a coach remark 
 to his hero, \}a.-a.\. yotaig gentlemen from college preparing to take orders 
 appear to have learnt everything except their own language. And so they 
 have. Exceptions, of course, there are, many and bright ; but in the 
 main the charge is true. The things in which, compared with former 
 ages, they excel so conspicuously, are the very things which have least 
 concern with their special calling. The course of their progress has 
 reversed the course of charity ; — it began abroad, and has never yet 
 reached home." 
 
 ON CLERGYMAN'S SORE THROAT, 
 Cults ^'■Lecture on Readiftg Aloud." 
 
 " This condition of throat, so common amongst the clergy, is produced 
 either by excessive use of the voice in continuously severe duty, or by 
 misdirected effort in the art of vocalisation. Barristers endure without 
 ill consequences more severe and continuous vocal exercise than the clergy. 
 The chief distinction is, that the voice of the barrister is produced for 
 speaking, that of the clergyman for reading. If this malady were simply 
 the result of overworking the voice, barristers ought to suffer from it as 
 much as the clergy, nay, more, for the rate of utterance being far greater 
 in speaking than in reading, it is evident that the organ of voice performs 
 more work in a given time in public speaking than in public reading. 
 From this circumstance it might be inferred that the organ of voice is able 
 to do more work in speaking than in reading. If all the clergy, and if all 
 other public readers, suffered from this malady, such an inference might 
 be valid : but some public readers only suffer, and those are commonly 
 not the men who read aloud most, or those who are weak of constitution. 
 
 " The organ of voice, it is true, like every other organ, may be over- 
 worked, and very often is tasked beyond its powers by singers, speakers, 
 and readers. Long-continued overwork induces great fatigue, with a sense 
 of exhaustion in the throat, and then pain is experienced in every attempt 
 to vocalise. Morbid conditions of the throat, familiar to medicine, are
 
 448 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix IT. 
 
 found in connection with this state of the voice. Medical treatment, how- 
 ever, is capable of removing these ill effects of overwork, and the voice 
 again becomes able to perform its usual amount of work. 
 
 " The case, however, is different in regard to Clergyman's sore throat ; 
 for although the morbid condition of the throat may yield to medical 
 treatment, yet the voice is seldom able to perform its usual amount of 
 work for long together, in consequence of the occurrence of pain and 
 distress in the act of producing voice to read aloud : and not only is 
 vocalisation painful, but the voice is found to be less under control than 
 formerly, and, as a consequence, the character of the reading is deterio- 
 rated. 
 
 " Rest, continual cessation from vocal effort, which is so beneficial to 
 the overworked voice (whether in singing, speaking, or reading) in regain- 
 ing its power, seems to give but little power to the reader suffering from 
 Clergyman's sore throat. All these circumstances concur in confirmation 
 of the view that Clergyman's sore throat is not the result of excessive, but 
 of misdirected effort in producing voice. 
 
 " The song-note and speech-note are essentially different, yet each may 
 be produced in their respective work of singing and speaking for several 
 hours daily without injury to the throat. It is only the speech-note, as 
 produced for reading, that induces this condition. I observe that the 
 highly-cultivated voice of the singer, and the instinctively-produced voice of 
 spontaneous speaking, can alike be exercised without fatigue and without 
 pain. Thus art successfully competes with nature. The voice instinctively 
 produced for spontaneous speaking is equalled by the highly-cultivated 
 voice of the singing school — the pure tone of the Italian system. This 
 is indeed a triumph of art : and we see the voice of reading, which is not 
 instinctive, on the one hand, nor cultivated on the other, is unable, in most 
 cases, to effect its purpose, and frequently breaks down under moderate 
 work. 
 
 " This suggests that the voice must be either instinctively produced like 
 the one, or highly cultivated like the other, in order to last. But in 
 reading it cannot be instinctive ; for even in those cases where the 
 language is recited from memory, as many clergymen go through our 
 Morning Service, we find that the close connection of the thought, language, 
 and voice of spontaneous speaking does not exist The alternative, there- 
 fore, of a highly-cultivated voice must be adopted ; and by this term I 
 do not mean the application of those rules of reading which are taught 
 by elocution masters, but a cultivation of the voice on sound acoustic and 
 physiological principles analogous to those which are so eminently suc- 
 cessful in cultivating the voice of song. 
 
 " This is not mere theory. Voices have been cultivated on such prin- 
 ciples with great success. Weak ones have been strengthened, and greatly 
 improved in flexibility and tone : and even those supposed to be per- 
 manently silenced by long-continued Clergyman's sore throat have been 
 restored to public usefulness."
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 449 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 " Far before the eyes or the mouth or the habitual gesture, as a revela- 
 tion of character, is the quahty of the voice and the manner of using it. 
 It is the first thing that strikes us in a new acquaintance, and it is one of 
 the most unerring tests of breeding and education. There are voices which 
 have a certain truthful ring about them — a certain something unforced 
 and spontaneous, that no training can give. Training can do much in 
 the way of making a voice, but it can never compass more than a bad 
 imitation of this quality ; for the very fact of its being an imitation, how- 
 ever accurate, betrays itself, like rouge on a woman's cheeks, or a wig, or 
 dyed hair. On the other hand, there are voices which have the jar of 
 falsehood in every tone, and that are as full of warning as the croak of the 
 raven or the hiss of the serpent. These are in general the naturally hard 
 voices which make themselves caressing, thinking by that to appear 
 sympathetic • but the fundamental quality strikes through the overlay, and 
 a person must be very dull indeed who cannot detect the pretence in that 
 slow, drawling, would-be affectionate voice, with its harsh undertone and 
 sharp accent whenever it forgets itself. But, without being false or 
 hypocritical, there are voices which puzzle as well as disappoint us, because 
 so entirely inharmonious with the appearance of the speaker. For instance, 
 there is that thin treble squeak we sometimes hear from the mouth of a 
 well-grown portly man, when we expected the fine rolling utterance which 
 would have been in unison with his outward seeming ; and, on the other 
 side of the scale, where we looked for a shrill head voice or a tender 
 musical cadence, we get that hoarse chest voice with which young and 
 pretty girls sometimes startle us. In fact, it is one of the characteristics 
 of the modern girl of a certain type ; just as the habitual use of slang is 
 characteristic of her, or that peculiar rounding of the elbows and turning 
 out of the wrists, which are gestures that, like the chest voice, instinctively 
 belong to men only, and have to be learnt and practised by women. 
 
 " Nothing betrays so much as the voice, save perhaps the eyes, and they 
 can be lowered, and so far their expression hidden. In moments of 
 emotion no skill can hide the fact of disturbed feeling, though a strong 
 will and the habit of self-control can steady the voice when else it would 
 be failing and tremulous. But not the strongest will, nor the largest 
 amount of self-control, can keep it natural as well as steady. It is 
 deadened, veiled, compressed, like a wild creature tightly bound and 
 unnaturally still. One feels that it is done by an effort, and that if the 
 strain were relaxed for a moment the'wild creature would burst loose in 
 rage or despair, and the voice would break out into the scream of passion 
 or quiver away into the falter of pathos. And this very effort is as 
 eloquent as if there had been no holding down at all, and the voice had 
 been left to its own impulse unchecked. Again, in fun and humour, is 
 it not the voice that is expressive, even more than the face ? The twinkle 
 of the eye, the hollow in the under lip, the dimples about the mouth, 
 the play of the eyebrow, are all aids certainly ; but the voice ! The 
 mellow tone that comes into the utterance of one man, the surprised 
 
 2 F
 
 4SO KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 accents of another, the fatuous simplicity of a third, the philosophical 
 acquiescence of a fourth when relating the most outrageous impossibili- 
 ties — a voice and manner peculiarly Transatlantic, and indeed one of 
 the Yankee forms of fun — do not we know all these varieties by heart? 
 have we not veteran actors whose main point lies in one or other of these 
 varieties ? and what would be the drollest anecdote if told in a voice 
 which had neither play nor significance ? Pathos too — who feels it, 
 however beautifully expressed so far as words may go, if uttered in a dead 
 and wooden voice without sympathy ? But the poorest attempts at 
 pathos will strike home to the heart if given tenderly and harmoniously. 
 And just as certain popular airs of mean association can be made into 
 church music by slow time and stately modulation, so can dead-level 
 literature be lifted into passion or softened into sentiment by the voice alone. 
 "We all know the effect, irritating or soothing, which certain voices 
 have over us ; and we have all experienced that strange impulse of attrac- 
 tion or repulsion which comes from the sound of the voice alone. And 
 generally, if not absolutely always, the impulse is a true one, and any 
 modification which increased knowledge may produce is never quite satis- 
 factory. Certain voices grate on our nerves and set our teeth on edge ; 
 and others are just as calming as these are irritating, quieting us like a 
 composing draught, and setting vague images of beauty and pleasantness 
 afloat in our brains. A good voice, calm in tone and musical in quality, 
 is one of the essentials for a physician; the "bedside voice," which is 
 nothing if it is not sympathetic by constitution. Not false, not made up, 
 not sickly, but tender in itself, of a rather low pitch, well modulated, and 
 distinctly harmonious in its notes, it is the very opposite of the orator's 
 voice, which is artificial in its management and a made voice. Whatever 
 its original quality may be, the orator's voice bears the unmistakable 
 stamp of art and becomes artificiality ; as such it may be admirable — 
 telling in a crowd, impressive in an address — but overwhelming and 
 chilling at home, partly because it is always conscious and never self- 
 forgetting. An orator's voice, with its careful intonation and accurate 
 accent, would be as much out of place by a sick-bed as Court trains and 
 brocaded silk for the nurse. There are certain men who do a good deal 
 by a hearty, jovial, fox-hunting kind of voice — a voice a little thrown up 
 for all that it is a chest voice — a voice with a certain undefined rollick and 
 devil-may-care sound in it, and eloquent of a large volume of vitality and 
 physical health. That, too, is a good property for a medical man. It 
 gives the sick a certain fillip, and reminds them pleasantly of health and 
 vigour ; it may have a mesmeric kind of effect on them — who knows 1 — 
 and induce in them something of Its own state, provided it is not over- 
 powering. But a voice of this kind has a tendency to become insolent in 
 its assertion of vigour, swaggering and boisterous ; and then it is too much 
 for invalided nerves, just as mountain winds or sea breezes would be too 
 much, and the scent of flowers or a hayfield oppressive. The clerical 
 voice, again, is a class voice ; that neat, careful, precise voice, neither 
 wholly made, nor yet quite natural ; a voice which never strikes one as 
 hearty or as having a really genuine utterance, but which yet is not 
 unpleasant if one does not require too much spontaneity. The clerical
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 451 
 
 voice, with its mixture of familiarity and oratory, as that of one used to 
 talk to old women in private and to hold forth to a congregation in public, 
 is as distinct in its own way as the mathematician's handwriting ; and any 
 one can pick out blindfold his man from a knot of talkers, without waiting 
 to see the square-cut collar and close white tie. The legal voice is different 
 again ; but this is rather a variety of the orator's than a distinct species — 
 a variety standing midway between that and the clerical, and affording 
 more scope than either. 
 
 " The voice is much more indicative of the state of the mind than many 
 people know of or allow. One of the first symptoms of failing brain-power 
 is in the indistinct or confused utterance ; no idiot has a clear or melodious 
 voice ; the harsh scream of mania is proverbial ; and no person of prompt 
 and decisive thought was ever known to hesitate or to stutter. A thick, 
 loose, fluffy voice, too, does not belong to the crisp character of mind 
 which does the best active work ; and when we meet with a keen-witted 
 man who drawls, and lets his words drip instead of bringing them out in 
 the sharp incisive way that would be natural to him, we may be sure there 
 is a flaw somewhere, and that he is not what the Americans call ' clear 
 grit ' and * whole-souled ' all through. We all have our company voices, as 
 we all have our company manners, and we get to know the company voices of 
 our friends after a time, and to understand them as we understand their 
 best dresses and state service. The person whose voice absolutely refuses 
 to put itself into company tone startles us as much as if he came to a state 
 dinner in a shooting-jacket. This is a different thing from the insincere and 
 flattering voice, which is never laid aside while it has its object to gain, 
 and which affects to be one thing when it means another. The company 
 voice is only a little bit of finery, quite in its place if not carried into the 
 home, where, however, silly men and women think they can impose on 
 their housemates by assumptions which cannot stand the test of domestic 
 ease. The lover's voice is of course siii generis ; but there is another kind 
 of voice which one hears sometimes that is quite as enchanting — the rich, 
 full, melodious voice which irresistibly suggests sunshine and flowers, and 
 heavy bunches of purple grapes, and a wealth of physical beauty at all 
 four corners. Such a voice is Alboni's ; such a voice we can conceive 
 Anacreon's to have been ; with less lusciousness and more stateliness, 
 such a voice was Walter Savage Lander's. His was not an English 
 voice ; it was too rich and accurate ; and yet it was clear and apparently 
 thoroughly unstudied. Ars celare arieni, perhaps ; there was no greater 
 treat of its kind than to hear Landor read Milton or Homer. Though 
 one of the essentials of a good voice is its clearness, there are certain 
 lisps and catches which are very pretty, though never dignified ; but most 
 of them are exceedingly painful to the ear. It is the same with accents. 
 A dash of brogue, the faintest suspicion of the Scotch twang, even a very 
 little American accent — but very little, like red pepper to be sparingly used, 
 as indeed we may say with the others — gives a certain piquancy to the 
 voice. So does a Continental accent generally, few of us being able to 
 distinguish the French accent from the German, the Polish from the 
 Italian, or the Russian from the Spanish, but lumping them all together as 
 ' a foreign accent ' broadly. Of all the European voices the French is
 
 452 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 perhaps the most unpleasant in its quality, and the Italian the most 
 delightful. The Italian voice is a song in itself; not the sing-song voice of 
 an English parish school-boy, but an unnoted bit of harmony. The French 
 voice is thin, apt to become wiry and metallic ; a head voice for the most 
 part, and evidently unsympathetic ; a nervous, irritable voice, that seems 
 more fit for complaint than for love-making ; and yet how laughing, how 
 bewitching it can make itself ! never with the Italian roundness, but cdli- 
 nant in its own half-pettish way, provoking, enticing, arousing. There are 
 some voices that send you to sleep, and others that stir you up ; and the 
 French voice is of the latter kind when setting itself to do mischief and 
 work its own will. Of all the differences lying between Calais and Dover, 
 perhaps nothing strikes the traveller more than the difference in the 
 national voice and manner of speech. The sharp, high-pitched stridulous 
 voice of the French, with its clear accent and neat intonation, is exchanged 
 for the loose, fluffy utterance of England, where clear enunciation is con- 
 sidered pedantic ; where brave men cultivate a drawl, and pretty women a 
 deep chest voice ; where well-educated people think it no shame to run all 
 their words into each other, and to let consonants and vowels drip out like 
 so many drops of water, with not much more distinction between them ; 
 and where no one knows how to educate his organ artistically, without 
 going into artificiality and affectation. And yet the cultivation of the voice 
 is an art, and ought to be made as much a matter of education as a good 
 carriage or a legible handwriting. We teach our children to sing, but we 
 never teach them to speak, beyond correcting a glaring piece of pronun- 
 ciation or so ; in consequence of which we have all sorts of odd voices 
 among us — short yelping voices like dogs, purring voices like cats, croak- 
 ings, and lispings, and quackings, and chatterings ; a very menagerie in 
 fact, to be heard in a room ten feet square, where a little rational cultiva- 
 tion would have reduced the whole of that vocal chaos to order and 
 harmony, and made what is now painful and distasteful beautiful and 
 seductive." — {Saturday Review, November 27///, 1869.) 
 
 PULPIT ORATORY. 
 
 " Pulpit oratory is not cultivated in England as it ought to be. Such 
 distinguished preachers as Canon Liddon and the Bishop of Peterborough 
 are brilliant exceptions to the general rule; and though many other names 
 might be mentioned, and will readily recur to our readers' memories, yet, 
 looking to the mass of sermon-deliverers, it must be confessed that 
 oratorical powers are sadly deficient, and that half the clergy who know 
 how to write a good sermon, are ignorant of the proper method of preaching 
 it. In fine, at the present day, there is too much Poppy in the Pulpit. 
 Not that this is a very new complaint. We only make it, because we 
 think that it is high time that all ground for the complaint was removed ; 
 either by the establishment of a body of clergy who should m.ove from one 
 place to another, emphatically as ' preachers ' — without ' cure of souls ' —
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION: 453 
 
 or by the more systematic instruction of candidates for ordination in those 
 pulpit exercises which they will be called upon to discharge, and on the 
 performance of which so much of the success, or failure, of their minis- 
 terial work will be due. 
 
 " Dean Swift hoped for the time when churches would cease to be 
 ' public dormitories,' and when ' sleep would be no longer looked upon as 
 the most convenient vehicle of good sense.' So, he freely acknowledged 
 to the presence, in his day, of Poppy in the Pulpit. So, too, did Sydney 
 Smith, in another generation. In the preface to the (original edition) of 
 the second volume of his sermons, he says, ' Preaching has become a bye- 
 word for long and dull conversation of any kind ; and whoever wishes to 
 imply, in any piece of writing, the absence of everything agreeable and 
 
 inviting, calls it a sermon Why call in the aid of paralysis to piety? 
 
 Is it a rule of oratory to balance the style against the subject, and to handle 
 the most sublime truths in the dullest language and the driest manner ? 
 Is sin to be taken from men, as Eve was from Adam, by casting them into 
 a deep sleep ? or, from what possible perversion of common sense are we 
 all to look like field-preachers in Zembla, holy lumps of ice, numbed into 
 quiescence and stagnation and mumbling ? . . . If a preacher despises 
 energy of manner and labour of composition, from a conviction that his 
 audience is willing, and that his subject alone will support him, he will 
 only add lethargy to languor, and confirm the drowsiness of his hearers by 
 becoming a great example of sleep himself ? ' 
 
 '' These are very true words, even when applied to a short sermon. 
 What shall be said of the spread of the Poppy in the Pulpit, when the 
 sermon is like to that by the Scotch minister who prided himself on deliver- 
 ing an interminable discourse that contained ' a haill system of divinity ? ' 
 To be called upon to hear such sermons is, indeed, a heavy trial. It is 
 true that ' holy ' George Herbert recommended his parson not to exceed 
 ' an hour in preaching, because all ages have thought that a competency, 
 and he that profits not in that time will less afterwards.' It is also true 
 that the 'judicious ' Hooker mentioned an hour as the proper length for a 
 sermon ; although Cranmer preached for an hour and a half, and Barrow 
 was even more unconscionable in his demands on his hearers' patience. But 
 we must remember that the times are altered, and men with them ; and 
 we do not now depend upon our pulpit orator for communicating to us 
 either the news of the day or that information which we are too ignorant 
 to be able to read and learn for ourselves. This is an age of newspapers 
 and a cheap press ; and when the schoolmaster is abroad, the preacher 
 may limit his sermons. We are removed by more than a century of pro- 
 gress from that period when Bishop Burnet, preaching at the Rolls Chapel, 
 could turn his hour-glass for a second course of sixty minutes, so that his 
 delighted congregation ' almost shouted for joy ; ' or from that day when 
 the good old Archbishop Usher, preaching at St. Martin's Church, was 
 requested by his congregation to continue his sermon after his hour-glass 
 had run out, and so, testifies his biographer, ' concluded with an exhorta- 
 tion full of heavenly matter for almost half an hour ; the whole auditory 
 being so much moved therewith that none went out of church until he 
 had finished his sermon.' But this was an exceptional instance, for we are
 
 454 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 assured by the same authority, that the Archbishop was accustomed to 
 preach much more briefly ; ' he never cared to tire his auditory with the 
 length of his sermon, knowing well that, as the satisfaction in hearing 
 decreases, so does the attention also, and people, instead of minding what 
 is said, only listen when there is an end.' These are true and sensible 
 words, and might be taken in conjunction with that acceptable advice of 
 Luther to a young preacher, ' Go boldly into the pulpit ; open your mouth 
 like a man, and be brief.' If this were done, how would it put an end to 
 Poppy in the Pulpit, and how much better would it be for those who are 
 called to hear sermons. 
 
 *' Still better would be their condition, if they who were called upon to 
 preach sermons were instructed how to deliver them. The want of uni- 
 versity education in oratory is something grievous. The young man who 
 is to have the pastoral charge of so many souls is diligently taught to 
 perfect himself in all the minuticB of the amours of false gods as described 
 in dead languages ; but he is never taught either to preach or compose a 
 sermon * in the vulgar tongue.' When he comes before his Bishop's 
 chaplain for his ordination examination, he is usually required to write a 
 theological essay on a given text ; and this, most probably, is his first 
 introduction to so important a duty of his future office. 
 
 " The prize for good reading has been established ; but it is yet too soon 
 to pronounce as to its ultimate good, or whether it will drag down the 
 text of the Bible and Prayer-book to the level of a penny-reading. In the 
 debate of the Cambridge Senate on this subject, one of the learned pro- 
 fessors delivered himself of the opinion, that ' good reading is a natural 
 gift, which comes without any effort in many cases ; ' and he probably would 
 allege that good preaching would be similarly developed, and would come 
 to a person in the pulpit as naturally as fruit to a tree or stratagem to Mr. 
 Disraeli. And so. Alma Mater expects her clerical infants to prattle about 
 free will after their own free will, and to bud and bloom with flowers of 
 oratory without any special culture. But what wonder is it, if, instead of 
 the full blossom, we meet with nothing but dry sticks ; and that it should 
 seem like inflicting a needless cruelty on helpless children, to command 
 those who have the charge of their tender years that they should call upon 
 them to hear sermons, when, in a majority of cases, they will find Poppy in 
 the Pulpit?" — {Public opinion, Nov. 6ih, 1875.) 
 
 MUSICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON. 
 
 ON THE INFLUENCE OF MUSICAL AND OTHER SOUNDS UPON THE LARYNX, 
 AS SEEN BY THE AID OF THE LARYNGOSCOPE. 
 
 " This formed the subject of a highly-interesting Lecture delivered before 
 the Society by Dr. Geo. D. Gibb. The first published notice of the 
 instrument was by Mr. Liston, the celebrated surgeon, in his work on 
 Surgery ; but the first person who employed it to study the mechanism of 
 the voice was Professor Garcia, whose researches were brought before the
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 455 
 
 Royal Society in 1866, and published in their 'Proceedings.' His obser- 
 vations were founded upon the examination of his own larynx during the 
 act of singing. Subsequently, in 1857, Dr. Turck, of Vienna, employed 
 the instrument medically ; he was followed by Czermak, Battaille, Merkel, 
 and many others. The lecturer observed that sufficient credit had not 
 been given to Garcia for what he had done, as his researches, although 
 much extended, had not been surpassed, and had been palmed off as their 
 own by some subsequent observers. His great knowledge of music has 
 given to his experiments a value of the highest character, which cannot be 
 too much appreciated. In i860 Dr. Gibb commenced his researches with 
 the instrument, as an agent to stuxiy and understand the hidden diseases of 
 both the larynx and windpipe, and the mechanism of sound, whether 
 musical or otherwise. The results of his labours, together with those of 
 Garcia and Battaille, were embodied in his lecture. 
 
 " The mechanism of the laryngoscope was described and illustrated by a 
 number of reflecting and laryngeal mirrors, manufactured by Weiss and 
 Son. Their mode of application was shown, whether in looking at the 
 interior of the larynx downwards from the back of the throat, or in seeing 
 the back of the nose from below upwards. The lecturer then proceeded 
 to describe briefly the parts of the larynx seen on looking into it with the 
 little mirror ; and this was lucidly done by the aid of a series of large 
 coloured diagrams representing the various cartilages, ligaments, muscles, 
 and membranes entering into its formation. At the bottom of the larynx 
 (which is the prominent cartilaginous box felt in the upper part of the 
 neck externally) is seen an antero-posterior fissure, extremely movable, 
 assuming at times a lozenge, elliptic, or triangular shape, of which the 
 brilliant pearly borders palpitate with surprising rapidity. This is the 
 glottis formed by the true vocal ligaments, or, as they are now generally 
 called, vocal cords. The action of these cords alone gave rise to sound, 
 whether in speaking or singing. The three sets of ligaments attached to 
 the pair of little pitcher-shaped cartilages, called the arytenoid, the lecturer 
 compared to three pair of reins in tandem driving, which acted almost 
 simultaneously during certain acts, such as coughing and swallowing. 
 
 " The subject of his discourse Dr. Gibb divided into the silent move- 
 ments of the larynx, or non-phonetic, and the phonetic, wherein sounds 
 were produced, whether in speaking or singing, either during inspiration or 
 expiration. 
 
 " There are two manifestations possessed by the ordinary expiratory 
 voice, which have been long known under the names of chest and falsetto 
 register. The head voice, so well known to vocalists, Dr. Gibb was 
 disposed to reject in his experiments equally with Battaille as opposed to 
 anatomy and physiology. Its range, laryngoscopically, so to speak, is 
 shown by Garcia in his writings. 
 
 " A series of experiments were now detailed illustrating the determina- 
 tion of the chest register. They consisted of the production of certain 
 sounds of the diatonic scale, and the behaviour of the glottis was carefully 
 noticed and pointed out in the diagrams. The mechanism of the elevation 
 and lowering of sound was next considered, and equally illustrated by 
 extremely interesting experiments and diagrams. In the chest register, ihe
 
 I 
 
 456 ICING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 vocal cords vibrate throughout their whole extent — namely, in their sub- 
 glottic region, their ventricular region, and on their free border; longitudinal 
 tension is generally stronger than in the falsetto register ; and the vibrations 
 become more rapid and ample in proportion as the sound becomes more 
 acute ; the reverse takes place when the sound becomes more grave — the 
 opening of the glottis is rectilinear. 
 
 " Experiments were related wherein the proceeding was taken advantage 
 of to alternate the production of the same sound in the chest voice and 
 falsetto voice by means of an uninterrupted current of air — to study the 
 inherent glottic modifications of the falsetto register in general. The 
 phenomena resulting from these, as seen in the laryngeal mirror, were 
 described, and are full of interest to the vocalist. The results went to show 
 that in the falsetto register the vocal cords vibrate only on their free 
 border and their ventricular region. The subglottic region, which plays 
 such an important part in the chest register, here ceases to take any direct 
 part in the generation of sound, longitudinal tension is feebler than in the 
 chest register, and the vibrations become less ample and more rapid 
 according as the sound becomes more acute ; but when more grave the 
 reverse takes place. The opening of the glottis is more or less elliptic in 
 accordance with the nature of the voice, and the size and density of the 
 vocal cords themselves. 
 
 " The lecturer proceeded to notice some of the other phenomena of the 
 voice, including that of inspiration ; the last very difficult to investigate 
 from the pain produced in its manifestation. It is only by the aid of the 
 falsetto register that the inspiratory notes can be obtained, and the glottis 
 is more open than in the expiratory sounds of this register. In the 
 general summary of laryngoscopic observation, besides the phenomena 
 peculiar to each register, it was shown that there were some common to 
 both ; thus the generation of vocal sound never occurs without the vocal 
 cords being stretched and vibrating wholly or in part. The closure of the 
 glottis behind occurs up to certain tonal limits, and is indispensable to the 
 brilliancy and elevation of sound. The false vocal cords take no part 
 whatever in the generation of sound. 
 
 " Professor Garcia had previously pointed out that the formation of 
 sounds in either register was produced, not from the actual vibrations of 
 the whole or part of the vocal cords, but from the successive explosions 
 which they allowed. Dr. Gibb said his lecture would have been incom- 
 plete without a few words upon the formation of the voice. The vocal 
 cords at the bottom of the larynx exclusively gave rise to the voice, what- 
 ever may be its register or intensity, because the laryngoscope has shown 
 that they alone vibrate in that situation. To one of the Fellows of the 
 Musical Society, Professor Garcia, we were indebted for what the lecturer 
 considered as the true and correct explanation of the formation of the 
 voice. It originated from the compression and expansion of the air, 
 which gave rise to successive and regular explosions in passing through 
 the glottis. The ligaments of the glottis or vocal cords close the passage, 
 and offer a resistance to the passage of air. As soon as the air has 
 accumulated sufficiently, it parts these folds and produces an explosion. 
 But at the same instant, by virtue of their elasticity, and the pressure from
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 457 
 
 below being relieved, they meet again to give rise to a fresh explosion, A 
 series of these compressions and expansions, or of explosions, occasioned 
 by the expansive force of the air and the reaction of the glottis, produces 
 the voice. 
 
 " The sounds ' ha ! ha ! ha ! ' in laughing, offer a familiar illustration of 
 rapid explosions occurring in succession by the opening and closing of the 
 glottis, and form a striking picture in the laryngeal mirror. The quality 
 of the voice is now proved to depend upon simple changes in the mechan- 
 ism of the larynx. The waves of sound generated by the larynx in the 
 column of air contained in the trachea, produce, in a word, vibration of 
 the cords. If they cannot be excited, then sounds are extinguished, and 
 the result is what the lecturer saw instances of almost every other day — 
 namely, aphonia, or loss of voice. 
 
 " Such were the results obtained by the aid of the laryngoscope. They 
 were but an instalment of what was promised by future observation and 
 experiment in the hands of those members of the lyric art who would 
 devote their energies to the task. From what had been described, Dr. 
 Gibb remarked, it would be readily comprehended that the slightest devia- 
 tion from the healthy standard would materially affect intonation, more 
 especially anything that influenced the tension of the vocal cords. Vocal 
 tension, so to speak, must be uniform and equal on both sides — that is, 
 both cords must be equally and simultaneously influenced by the little 
 cartilages called the arytenoid, which govern and direct the three pairs of 
 reins noticed in the early part of this lecture. 
 
 " Setting aside altogether in his lecture the notice of any morbid 
 phenomena which affected the voice, the lecturer requested permission 
 merely to refer to the cause of failure, partial or complete, of a portion of 
 the notes of the diatonic scale — whether the middle, the higher, or the lower, 
 or the junction of either — as revealed by the laryngoscope. This, he said, 
 would be found to depend chiefly upon inequality in the power of tension 
 of the two vocal cords ; that is to say, whilst one cord would become 
 stretched to its required length during the utterance of the middle or 
 higher notes, the other did not become so in an equal ratio — hence the 
 parallelism and symmetry so essential to perfect harmony in singing became 
 imperfect. Dr. Gibb claimed to himself the credit of being the first to 
 point out this important fact. He then referred to the condition of the 
 epiglottis, and denied that the loosening of this cartilage could be accom- 
 plished at the will of the singer, as was supposed by some. The reason 
 of this was given, and measures to remedy it referred to. 
 
 " In conclusion, Dr. Gibb stated, that without any pretensions at all as 
 a vocalist, he had performed various experiments with the view of under- 
 standing the cause of defective voice ; but the interest of the subject grew 
 upon him, and induced him to go more fully into it. Some of the results 
 of his labours he had ventured to bring before them. 
 
 " An interesting discussion followed, in which Professor Garcia, Mr. 
 Charles Salaman, Mr. Tracy Osborn, the chairman, Mr. Godfroi, and Dr. 
 Richardson, took part. The question of the mental faculties in relation to 
 the physical in vocalism, formed the main topic of the debate." — (The 
 Lancef, April 2Sth, i?>62,.)
 
 458 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 A MOVABLE MODEL OF THE LARYNX, 
 
 ILLUSTRATING A NEW VIEW OF ITS VARIOUS MOVEMENTS. 
 
 Dy Mr. Edmund y. Spitta, Late Demonstrator of Anatomy at the 
 School of St. George's Hospital. 
 
 This model has been devised both for the lecturer and the student, 
 being intended to supply the want so often felt of an instrument which shall 
 illustrate mechanically the movements of the Larynx both in respiration 
 and in the production of the voice. 
 
 Before explaining its action, a brief account of its construction will be 
 premised. 
 
 The Model, about three times the size of life, is designed to represent a 
 dissected Larynx surmounting the Trachea ; where the Glottis is open as 
 in ordinary inspiration, and the Vocal Cords in their normally quiet state ; 
 the Hyoid bone and Epiglottis, being unnecessary for the present purpose, 
 having been removed. 
 
 The Laryngeal cartilages are of metal ; the Tracheal rings of iron wire 
 covered with gutta-percha ; whilst the membranous portion of that tube is 
 of indiarubber. 
 
 The two Laryngeal Joints, the Crico-thyroid and Crico-arytenoid articu- 
 lations, are well displayed by the model : the former being seen as a simple 
 double-hinged ginglymus between the Cricoid and inferior cornua of the 
 Thyroid \ the latter, the Crico-arytenoid, being much more complicated. 
 And as it is on the disposition of this last-named articulation that the 
 laryngeal movements in vocal intonation mainly depend, I shall not, I 
 trust, be wasting time in entering rather fully into its construction. 
 
 Each Crico-arytenoid joint may be considered as a lateral curvilinear 
 ginglymus, permitting a curved movement only of the arytenoid on the 
 cricoid in a direction outwards, downwards, and backwards : any move- 
 ment forwards being prevented by the bands of fibres which strengthen 
 the capsular ligament at its posterior part. 
 
 To imitate this articulation was a matter of the greatest difficulty, but at 
 last it has been ingeniously effected by Mr. Hawkesley, the maker of the 
 model, in the following manner. 
 
 The object in the manufacture of the joint was to give the arytenoid a 
 curved movement outwards^ downwards, and backwards, without allowing 
 them the slightest movement forwards. This has been attained by making 
 the articulating surface of the arytenoid concave, and the articulating 
 surface of the cricoid convex, the two cartilages being kept in apposition 
 by means of a screw passing through a curved slit in the latter surface to 
 be firmly fixed into the former. A momentary inspection of the model 
 will show the joint in action ; and each Aiytenoid will be at once seen 
 to glide in its own limited area outwards, downwards, and backwards, as 
 desired. 
 
 One word, en passant, may be permitted on the physiological importance 
 of this articulation, because, in my opinion, it has not received sufficient 
 attention. Many observers still believe that the Arytenoids move forwards. 
 
 1 
 I 
 
 I
 
 I 
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 459 
 
 But this most certainly is an error ; for if it were so, how could the patu- 
 lence of the glottis in respiration be preserved, and how could the increase 
 in- distance between the Thyroid and Arytenoids necessary for the tension 
 of the cords in the production of the voice be obtained ? 
 
 To proceed : — The muscles of the model are for the most part formed of 
 bags of indiarubber, stuffed with wool, having been cast into the shapes 
 required. They are inserted into the metal by plugs of wood. 
 
 The Vocal Cords are represented by tubes of indiarubber stretching 
 from the Arytenoids to the Thyroid, being firmly fixed into these cartilages. 
 Their length is in accordance with their normal state during ordinary 
 inspiration, but not when tensed for vocal intonation. 
 
 So far relative to its Constructiott, we now advance to the Action of the 
 model. >• 
 
 To imitate the laryngeal movements in respiration and vocal intonation, 
 the model must show the two following operations. Opening and Closing 
 the Glottis^ and Tensing and Relaxing the Cords. 
 
 I. — Opening and Closing the Glottis. 
 
 Looking into the model from above, the Glottis is seen open ; and it is 
 hereby intended to show that its ordinary habitual patulence in respiration 
 is not dependent on any one muscle or set of muscles, but rather on the 
 antagonistic tonic action of all the muscles, taken together. Opening and 
 Closing the glottis therefore, in its technical sense, means the disturbance 
 of the natural width of its chink, from whatever causes. Opening the Glottis, 
 viewed in this light, is due to the conjoined action of the lateral <z;/^po3terior 
 crico-arytenoidei considered as one muscle ; and this is demonstrated on 
 the model by depressing simultaneously the external angle of each aryte- 
 noid ; when these cartilages will be seen to take their sliding curvilinear 
 movement, outwards, downwards, and backwards, and to widen the rima 
 glottidis in proportion to the supposed action of the above-named muscles. 
 
 In making this statement I am fully aware that I am not entertaining 
 the generally received opinion ; for most physiologists hold that the 
 glottis is opened by the posterior and closed by the lateral crico-aryte- 
 noids. But a glance at the model which fairly represents these muscles, 
 will show that their Joint action can alone draw the arytenoids in their 
 peculiarly curved direction outwards, backwards, and downwards, as above 
 stated. 
 
 Closing the Glottis, in the technical sense of approximating the cords 
 nearer than their state in respiration, is due to the Arytenoideus only ; 
 and the action of this muscle is illustrated on the model by mechanically 
 approximating the arytenoids ; when the rima glottidis will be gradually 
 lessened until its complete closure is effected. 
 
 2. — Tensing and Relaxing the Cords. 
 
 To see the operation of Tensi7tg the cords, we must view the model in 
 front ; when by depressing the pomum adami with the finger, the Thyroid 
 will swing downwards on the anterior half of the Cricoid as if by the con- 
 traction of the crico-thyroids ; and, the distance between the thyroid and
 
 46o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 arytenoids being increased owing to the fixed state of these latter cartilages, 
 the cords will be tensed. 
 
 To witness the operation of Relaxing the cords, we must look into the 
 interior of the model ; when, after removing the finger from the pomum, 
 the Thyro-arytenoidei — more properly called the Aryteno-thyroidei — from 
 the immobility of the Arytenoides will seem to act. Assisted by the elas- 
 ticity of the cords, they will elevate the thyroid to the normal position ; 
 and the distance between the thyroid and arytenoides being thus reduced 
 to its previous length, relaxation of the cords will be effected. 
 
 And here we might conclude : but I cannot refrain from making an 
 additional remark respecting the nerves of the Larynx, seeing that their 
 distribution so strongly corroborates the new view of the movements as 
 displayed by th* Model. The Inferior laryngeal furnishes all the muscles 
 with motor power except the crico-thyroids which derive their nerve supply 
 from the Superior laryngeal — that nerve sending its superior terminal 
 branch to the arytenoides, so that the last-named muscle is supplied from 
 two sources. 
 
 As the Crico-thyroids act in direct opposition to the other muscles, 
 it is but natural that they should have a separate nervous supply ; whilst 
 it seems equally to be expected that the Arytenoideus, with its double 
 supply of nerves, should have a two-fold action. 
 
 And this is the case. Ordinarily that muscle is influenced by the 
 Inferior laryngeal so that it can oppose the Lateral and Posterior Crico- 
 arytenoids to prevent the Glottis being unduly opened. 
 
 But when its own peculiar action is desired, when the Arytenoideus is 
 called upon suddenly and completely to close the Glottis to preclude the 
 introduction of a foreign body, it is then influenced 07ily through the Superior 
 laryngeal. Were it otherwise, if that extraordinary and violent action were 
 brought about by the hiferior laryngeal, the other muscles supplied by that 
 nerve would be stimulated also ; and being more powerful, would neutralise 
 the action of the Arytenoideus and prevent the spasmodic and absolute clo- 
 sure of the Glottis required. 
 
 THE PHONOGRAPH AND THE MICROPHONE. 
 
 The following articles from the Daily Press, on some of the most 
 wonderful inventions of our time, will be read with interest : — 
 
 Half a century ago Sir John Herschel, referring to the marvels of 
 acoustical science, and its future relation to a kindred sphere of study, 
 said: "The subject is far from exhausted; and, indeed, there are few 
 branches of physics which promise at once so much amusing interest and 
 such important consequences in its bearings on other subjects, and 
 especially, through the medium of strong analogies, on that of light." 
 These analogies between the phenomena of sound and light have culminated 
 in that singularly ingenious invention called the phonograph, which has 
 recently been exhibited before scientific audiences in the metropolis. The 
 fact has long been familiar to the world that the motion alike of light and 
 sound takes the form of waves. The parallel between the number of 
 colours in the prism and the number of notes in the diatonic scale is also
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION, 461 
 
 well known. The seven colours of the spectrum consist of three which may be 
 considered strictly primary, and four more which are composed of those three 
 in certain combinations. The seven notes in the musical gamut — the eighth 
 being virtually a repetition of the first — are, in precisely the same manner, 
 formed of three radical tones and four produced by variously combining 
 these. Again, illuminating power can be not only generated but transmitted 
 by a galvanic battery ; and a system of automatic gas-lighting, based on the 
 communicable property of the electric spark, has recently been tested at 
 the works of the Chartered and Fulham Gas Companies with every prospect 
 of its ultimate adoption in igniting the street lamps of the metropolis. 
 Sound can also be transmitted different degrees of distance according to the 
 conducting power of the vehicle through which it is conveyed ; and, when 
 the possibilities of the telephone are completely developed, who can set 
 bounds to the extent of space it may become capable of traversing ? 
 
 But the crowning analogy between the phenomena of light and sound 
 appears in photography and phonography. An actinic ray from the sun 
 fixes the image of an object reflected on a prepared surface, and by the 
 phonograph sounds can be accurately impressed on a sheet of tinfoil or a 
 thin layer of copper, stereotyped, if desired, and reproduced as often as 
 miay be deemed agreeable with audible distinctness. Babbage, who firmly 
 believed that, according to the principle of mechanical reaction, the atmos- 
 phere retained every impression made upon it by the human voice, eloquently 
 describes the air as " one vast library on whose pages are for ever written 
 all that man has ever said or woman whispered." It may be thought that 
 such ethereal mathematics carry dynamic agency to trackless issues. But 
 the phonograph is no hypothetical creation. It is a veritable machine 
 whose operations are as definite and trustworthy as those of the telegraph 
 or the telephone. Like the latter instrument, this latest scientific novelty is of 
 American origin, and was invented by Mr, Thomas Alva Edison, to whom 
 the world is also indebted for the automatic and quadruplex system of 
 telegraphy. The phonograph, in its latest and most improved form, con- 
 sists of a brass cylinder in the proportion of four inches diameter to a foot 
 in length, having a spiral groove cut in it from end to end. Round the 
 cylinder — which can be rotated on a screwed horizontal axis by a winch- 
 handle — is placed a sheet of ordinary tinfoil or thin layer of copper, and in 
 contact with that surface is the point of a small steel pin projecting from 
 the centre of a thin metallic diaphragm, at the bottom of a short tube or 
 mouthpiece. The mouthpiece and the disc at the lower end of it are in the 
 same relative positions as in the telephone. A word spoken into the mouth- 
 piece of the phonograph necessarily imparts vibration to the metallic 
 diaphragm or tympanum of the instrument, and also to the steel pin attached 
 to it, and thus the sheet of tinfoil becomes indented by the revolution of 
 the cylinder and the movement of the pin. The screwed bearing in the 
 axis is of equal dimensions with the groove in the circumference of the 
 cylinder ; and when it is made to revolve, the point of the vibrating style 
 or pin describes spiral lines of tiny marks on that portion of the tinfoil 
 which is laid over the groove. The cylinder is moved backwards and for- 
 wards by the joint action of the winch-handle and the screw. Consequently 
 that portion of the tinfoil immediatly under the style and immediately over
 
 
 462 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix 11. 
 
 the groove, being without solid support, readily yields to the pressure of the 
 style and to the influence of the vibrations communicated to it by the voice 
 of the speaker when the cylinder is turned. The crank winch-handle is, of 
 course, kept in motion while sound continues to enter the mouthpiece, and 
 the elevations and depressions produced on the tinfoil by the vibrations of 
 the metallic membrane and style answer with undeviating exactness to the 
 various modulations of the speaker's voice. A rough pasteboard trumpet 
 is held to the mouthpiece for the purpose of rendering back the vibrations 
 symbolically embossed on the receiving surface, and this process of repro- 
 ducing uttered words from the instrument is effected simply by reversing the 
 movement of the axis until the first of the traced impressions is placed 
 under the steel pin. A forward movement of the winch-handle, as before, 
 will now reproduce the identical sounds addressed to the mouthpiece, with 
 every minute variety of cadence. The rate of utterance is regulated by the 
 quick or slow revolution of the crank. The songs rendered by the phono- 
 graph at the meeting of the Society of Telegraphic Engineers are reported to 
 have been encored, and the audience stood while the National Anthem was 
 mechanically executed. Before the Physical Society, also, the remarkable 
 feat was achieved of reproducing a duet song through a double mouthpiece. 
 ]\Ir. Edison is, moreover, said to have lately succeeded, by extending the 
 application of the phonographic principle, in constructing a clock which, 
 instead of striking the hours, announces them in a human voice, and adds 
 appropriate remarks. 
 
 It is almost impossible to realise the multifarious uses in store for this 
 most simple and beautiful of scientific inventions, as yet in the initial stage 
 of its development. In the ode addressed to his mother's portrait Cowper 
 exclaims : " Oh, that these lips had language ! " and the Poet Laureate 
 sighs for "the sound of a voice that is still." But the sorrow of bereave- 
 ment can henceforth be materially alleviated by the possession of that 
 particular souvenir of deceased friends which poets desiderate. By turning 
 the crank of the phonograph we may recall their very words. Every inflec- 
 tion of the human voice in speech and song may by this contrivance be 
 securely preserved and conveniently reproduced; nor can it be doubted 
 that the machine will yet become plastic enough to receive and faithfully 
 echo the whole world of expression — the thunderbolt, the waterfall, the 
 rustling of trees, the cooing of doves, the bleating of sheep, the roar of 
 the lion, the warbling of the thrush, and the swell of the organ. The 
 family guest about to emigrate may now sing his favourite ditties and 
 speak his farewell wishes into the tube of the phonograph, in the confi- 
 dence that both can be echoed with precision after his visible presence 
 has been withdrawn. The favourite preacher removed to a new sphere of 
 labour may gratify his old friends by literally rendering his eloquence 
 imperishable among them. Posterity may in future be favoured not only 
 with a physiognomical facsimile of the statesmen, la\vyers, and philanthro- 
 pists of preceding generations, but centuries hence readers of the history 
 of the Victorian Era will, perhaps, assemble to hear the identical voices of 
 the great men whose lives and speeches they read. Who knows but there 
 may be libraries consecrated to treasuring stereotyped registers of voices 
 of all ranks and classes of the illustrious dead, and halls expressly erected
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 463 
 
 to their reiteration ? An entertainment in the remote future may some- 
 times consist of passages repeated alternately by political opposites varied 
 with songs by deceased vocalists and recitations from by-gone actors. 
 That these anticipations are not Utopian is. obvious from the fact that Mr. 
 Edison asserts that his best instrument even now can talk so as to be 
 heard at a distance of four hundred and seventy-five feet ; and that gentle- 
 man recently dictated through the same medium more than a dozen letters, 
 which were afterwards correctly copied in writing by his clerk from the 
 machine, their real import being known only to the speaker himself. 
 The labour of writing long letters may yet be superseded ; communications 
 of importance may be addressed, in future, to the phonograph. After- 
 wards, the metallic record can be removed from the cylinder, packed in 
 a box, and despatched to correspondents, by whom the tinfoil can be 
 rotated in a similar instrument, and the message delivered in the voice 
 and tones of the original speaker. 
 
 Science has lately given the world three new separate inventions so 
 marvellous, delicate, and prospectively useful to mankind, that it is hard to 
 say which can be called the greatest prize of discovery. Indeed, they 
 belong more or less to each other, and are mutually supplemental, like the 
 famous fairy-gifts in the story of Peri-Banou. That Arab tale relates how 
 three Princes who laid claim to the hand of one and the same Princess 
 were sent abroad by the Sultan, her father, to decide their rivalry by seeing 
 who could bring back the most wonderful article. Each was favoured by a 
 special protection ; and thus one obtained a magic pomegranate which 
 would cure all diseases ; another an ivory tube which would enable the 
 most distant objects and scenes to be brought close to sight ; and the third 
 an enchanted carpet, by sitting on which you might be transported anywhere 
 at will. The Princes met at a rendezvous far away from their home, and 
 exhibited these treasures with mutual emulation, each declaring he felt 
 sure of the fair reward, when it occurred to them to test the ivory tube at 
 once, and see by it what the lovely Princess was doing. To the grief of 
 all three suitors, she was plainly observed lying upon a bed of sickness, 
 with the court in tears and despair around. Thereupon the magic carpet 
 was brought into immediate requisition, and, the lovers having flown 
 through the air upon it, the instant and happy cure of her Royal Highness 
 was effected by means of the enchanted pomegranate. If any one forgets 
 how the knotty question of pre-eminence was finally settled between these 
 three fairy gifts, each of which had proved so useful, we must leave him to 
 turn back to this Alf Lailat wa Laila. Just as difficult, however, it 
 would be now to decide whether the palm of merit should be awarded to 
 the Telephone, the Phonograph, or the Microphone, the three latest and 
 most extraordinary gifts of science to our time. All three inventions are 
 closely affiliated in the order and method of their discovery. The tele- 
 phone, which " wafts a sigh from Indus to the Pole," is by this time 
 sufficiently understood, though by no means yet valued as it will be when 
 the ingenious ijiinds to which we owe it have had time to perfect their 
 apparatus. The phonograph, which actually records speech and sound in
 
 i 
 
 464 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 a portable and, reproducible form — outdoing the utmost marvels of the Ara- 
 bian story — was discovered by Mr. Edison, it is said, while trifling with his 
 telephone. The little needle on the diaphragm pricked his finger, and, 
 as he drew it away, made an interrupted line of blood upon its surface by 
 the vibration of the point, whereupon he at once placed some Morse paper 
 so that the diaphragm could travel over it, and, speaking through the 
 tube, found small but familiar " dots and dashes " inscribed. Reversing 
 the process, and so managing the impressed paper as to make the 
 diaphragm vibrate, it repeated to him faintly the "Halloa" which he 
 had shouted at the machine. We might fairly say this was the voice of 
 Science herself rewarding a great inventor with one of the most magical 
 of her hidden secrets, for Mr. Edison went to work forthwith, and, neither 
 eating, drinking, nor sleeping fo'- two days and nights, toiled until he had 
 produced and brought into working order the first phonograph. 
 
 The microphone — the last of these amazing discoveries in that subtle 
 region where electricity, magnetism, motion, and sound execute their 
 invisible interchanges — has sprung forth to startle and benefit the world in 
 much the same curious way. A paper lately read before the Royal Society 
 announces the invention by Professor Hughes of this astonishing instru- 
 ment or apparatus which opens to our ears a universe of sounds hitherto 
 inaudible ; just as the microscope revealed a world of minute life and 
 structure unknown before. Like Mr. Edison, Professor Hughes was one 
 day employing the telephone for various acoustic experiments. He wished 
 to investigate the effect of sonorous vibrations upon the electrical behaviour 
 of conductors, led to this idea by the way in which selenium is known to 
 become electrically affected by light, and also by the researches of Sir 
 William Thomson upon the electrical conduct of strained wires. The 
 professor had a stretched wire on his telephonic circuit, and, though he 
 talked and plucked at it, no effect followed until it broke. At that moment 
 the telephone uttered a sort of " shh," which was very curious. He placed 
 the broken ends together under a weight and obtained again faint sounds, 
 which were improved when the wires were connected by iron nails, or a 
 steel watch-chain ; the more pieces and more diverse in substance from the 
 conductor seemingly the better. Experimenting still farther with his 
 broken circuit, especially in the direction of this whisper from Science 
 about " More pieces," he found metallic powder or fine metal filings won- 
 derfully augment the power of transmitting sounds ; while shot in a bright 
 condition, platinum, carbon, and mercury, also gave good results, par- 
 ticularly the last. Following up this clue, Professor Hughes hit upon a 
 plan of suspending finely-divided mercury in a stick of charcoal by heating 
 the latter and plunging it into quicksilver, whereupon the charcoal becomes 
 infiltrated with the mercury in minutest but continuous particles. Inserting 
 a "transmitter" of this sort in his circuit, an absolutely amazing sensitive- 
 ness to sound, as well as power of conveying it with the utmost fidelity, 
 was displayed by the apparatus. A touch of the finger on the vibrating 
 plate was conducted to the speaking end in volume of vibration like the 
 rustle of a forest ; the stroking of a camel's-hair brush on a card was 
 magnified into the sound of a loud whisper ; the beating of 'a pulse, or the 
 tick of a watch, was found to pass with perfect clearness through a resist-
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 465 
 
 ance representing a hundred miles of space ; and, when a fly happened 
 to walk over the plate, the tramp of its feet was most distinctly caught 
 like that of some six-legged horse trotting, and it was, moreover, heard to 
 trumpet from its raised proboscis like an elephant in an Indian jungle. 
 Sounds, in fact, totally inaudible before to human ears, were arrested and 
 reported by this simple and accidental expedient of interrupting the elec- 
 trical circuit with a finely-divided conducting material. There is scarcely 
 a doubt that the perfected Microphone will convey to us that hidden 
 ripple of the sap rising in growing trees and plants, which Humboldt said 
 might be a continuous melody in the auditory organs of earth's smallest 
 creatures. The " music of the spheres " — if we could only find a way of 
 localising the vibrations of a star, as we can isolate and examine its light 
 with the spectroscope — would possibly become sensible to us ; and 
 Lorenzo, had he known of this magical invention, need not have told 
 Jessica that we should never catch a note of that cosmic anthem which 
 each golden orb " in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the 
 young-eyed cherubims." To "hear the grass grow " has become, by this 
 exquisitely delicate discovery, no longer an utterly inconceivable exercise 
 for sharp ears. It may be expected to replace the clumsy methods of the 
 stethoscope and sphygmograph, with a most accurate appliance, which will 
 tell the doctor's ear exactly what the heart and the pulse have to say about 
 his patient's case. Some application of it, by properly employing a little 
 portable battery and circuit, may probably be hit upon, which will greatly 
 alleviate, or even wholly remove, the disabilities of the deaf. But, more 
 than this, while magnifying audible sound, and reporting to us tones which 
 were before inaudible, this new invention is said to solve all difficulties as 
 to articulateness in telephonic transmission. // conveys speech, or music, 
 or the slightest inflections of accent and timbre, with perfect distinctness, 
 and with a power so complete that it increases indefi)iitely that which the 
 telepho7ie has exhibited with a hoviogetteom conducting wire. In intro- 
 ducing his admirable discovery very modestly to the Royal Society, the 
 inventor remarked : " It is impossible to say what may be the applications 
 or effects of that which I have had the honour of bringing before you ; " 
 and to his great honour Professor Hughes added, " I do not intend to take 
 out a patent, as the facts I have mentioned belong more to the domain of 
 discovery than of invention. No doubt inventors will ere long improve on 
 the form and materials I have employed. I have already my reward in 
 the distinction of submitting my researches to the Royal Society." This 
 is, indeed, a spirit worthy of such great services to human knowledge, and 
 Professor Hughes has enhanced the fame of his invention by the unselfish 
 manner in which he gives the world the full benefit of the discovery. 
 
 Although difficult to convey, the explanation of this wonderful power of 
 the " microphone " to magnify sounds does not seem beyond the reach of 
 simple phraseology. There are two wave-currents running through the 
 telephonic circuit — one of electricity, the other of sound vibrations — and 
 the effect produced by the latter in modifying the resistance and conduc- 
 tivity of a circuit is little or none, so long as tlie wire remains homogeneous 
 and continuous. If, however, a portion of this be, as in the transmitter, 
 composed of a series of very minute subdivisions, electrical continuity being 
 
 2 G
 
 1 
 
 466 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 still preserved, the sonorous waves are no longer neutralised in their effect 
 upon the electric flow. The molecules of the mercury are thrust together 
 or drawn apart, becoming alternately longer and more resistant, or shorter 
 and more permeable, so that every briefest and smallest sound-disturbance 
 acts and records itself in the effect produced upon the electrical flow, and 
 the variations of these electric currents reproduce the order, force, and 
 articulation of the sounds. With diagrams this theory of the action — 
 which is the one put forward by the accomplished inventor — might have 
 been rendered much more intelligible ; but enough is said to afford some 
 notion of the manner in which the microphone is thought to work. As its 
 name implies, it is the magnifier of sound ; but it defines and reveals as 
 well as carries sound, and cannot fail to prove an immensely valuable 
 addition to the telephone, while it may be confidently expected that the 
 phonograph will be made available for recording by its help some of the 
 imexpected things to which we shall be enabled to listen through this fairy 
 gift of science. It has been suggested, for example, that molecular motion 
 itself, under certain circumstances, may be conveyed to our ears by this 
 apparatus. We may overhear, for instance, the inner vibrations of a mass 
 of heated metal, or the sound produced by chemical combinations and re- 
 actions. Step by step man thus explores the hidden marvels and resources 
 of that world of Nature which is at once his palace and his prison. Each 
 great secret wrested from the silent but beneficent Spirit of the Universe 
 confers new powers and makes life richer and more commanding. Is it, 
 then, the caprice of that spirit which has imparted these two splendid 
 secrets of the phonograph and the microphone by apparently the most 
 trivial accidents ? A pricked finger produces one for us ; a broken wire 
 led Professor Hughes to discover the other. There is no caprice in this 
 mystery. The hour comes, the patient seeker is on the right road, and, at 
 the moment when he least expects it. Nature uncloses her hand, and shows 
 another of those far-reaching treasures of knowledge which she keeps for 
 him and his like, the best benefactors of mankind. 
 
 THE TELEPHONE. 
 
 A great change has come over the conditions of humanity. Suddenly 
 and quietly the whole human race is brought within speaking and hearing 
 distance. Scarcely anything was more desired or more impossible. Few, 
 indeed, can fill a room of any size, or even make themselves well heard 
 anywhere ; and the ear itself is the weakest and most treacherous of our 
 faculties. The eye enjoyed an invidious superiority over the sister organ. 
 Not to speak of its celestial achievements over other worlds, or of the 
 kingdoms of the earth it could see in a moment of time, it encroached 
 successfully on the domain of the ear, by beacons, and telegraphs, and all 
 kinds of signals. Some of us may remember the line of telegraphs from 
 the Admiralty to Portsmouth, throwing their arms wildly about, ten minutes 
 sometimes, while the bewildered clerks were turning over the leaves of 
 their key or spelling a word. A storm or a fog, or nightfall, would interrupt 
 ihe message, and there it slept till next day, no matter its importance or
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 467 
 
 its urgency. The railway seemed to compensate for this, but with the 
 railway came all the accidents and delays of personal agency. Then, 
 about a generation ago, came the electric telegraph, too great a boon to be 
 lightly spoken of, but even more divested of the charms that sweeten and 
 assist communication than the old letter-writing. The writer might be 
 known and loved in his letter, which could not help being characteristic ; 
 but the telegram was the dry bones of correspondence. Gushes, sighs, 
 tears, sallies of wit, and traits of fondness do not stand the ordeal of twenty 
 words for a shilling, and the frigid medium of unsympathetic clerks. All 
 at once the telegram is found to be a barbarous makeshift, fit for business 
 purposes, or mere messages, in which names, figures, places, and dates are 
 all there is to be transmitted. For any higher or tenderer purpose the 
 telephone is to take its place. While we are talking about it, and hearing 
 of its performances at scientific meetings, the Americans are bringing it 
 rapidly into use. Already 500 houses in New York converse with one 
 another ; 3000 telephones are in use in the United States ; they are used 
 by Companies and other large concerns wherever the works are some way 
 from the office, in waterworks, pits, and mines. Friends on the opposite 
 side of a broad street converse as if in one room. The known tone and 
 inflections of the speaker, a -whisper, a cough, a sigh, a breath can be heard. 
 The little incidents of human utterance which it takes a wakeful ear to 
 detect, aided by the eye and by familiar acquaintance, are found to pass 
 along miles of wire, many of them under the earth or sea. Silent as the 
 medium may be, and dead as it seems, the sound comes out true. A 
 hundred miles of galvanic agency becomes only one imperceptible link 
 between two human mechanisms. 
 
 England takes discoveries, when they are not her own, very tranquilly. 
 The telephone is said to be in use somewhere in this metropohs by two 
 scientific friends ; but, while Prince Bismarck has already set it to work on 
 German State business, it can hardly yet be said to have emerged for 
 Londoners from the exhibition room or the soiree. Yet it is now plainly 
 nothing more than an affair of mechanism, and, bound as we are to believe in 
 the dominion of man over nature, we cannot doubt we shall master all the 
 material difficulties of this new acoustic problem. The great difficulty at 
 present is the tenuity and feebleness of the result ; but it is evident that 
 difficulty has been surmounted in the United States more than it has been 
 here. That may be owing not merely to the density of our atmosphere, 
 but partly also to our imperfect apparatus ; possibly, also, to that indistinct- 
 ness of ntterance, that slurring over of important consonants, and that 
 dropping of the voice at the end of a sentence, which all foreigners observe 
 in us. The telephone will prove a severe test of both otir speaking and 
 our listening powers. The household wire, it appears, need not be 
 monopolised, or be at the mercy of one inefficient listener. Half a dozen 
 telephones, with their respective wires, can be attached to the same main wire, 
 and as many ears applied. When it was found, now about fifty years ago, 
 that tubes would convey the human voice sufficiently a hundred yards or 
 more, it was immediately suggested that an honest and attentive -body of 
 Christians could stay at home on a rainy Sunday without being deprived 
 of public ministrations. They might sit by their fireside, lend a willing 
 ear to the end of a speaking tube, and hear the sermon delivered at the
 
 468 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 other end of the street. The voice, however, would not ramify to the 
 desired extent. The electric current will ramify to at least a considerable 
 extent. The very idea of such a use being made of it, improbable and 
 even ridiculous as it is, suggests its convenience for many ordinary and 
 secular purposes. The objection to a telegraphic system ramifying itself 
 into every parish and every good house in the kingdom has hitherto been 
 the fact that in very few households is there one who could read or work 
 the instrument. That objection is now likely in time to be entirely 
 removed. Everybody who has an ear can hear a telephone, and every one 
 who has a tongue can speak into one. All that is wanted is a miich- 
 reqicired improvement in our listening and speaking powers, with, of course, 
 some considerable improvements in the telephone. But the last point, 
 however necessary, is simply a case of supply and demand. If wanted, 
 the telephone will be brought to the same pitch of perfection as telescopes, 
 watches, sewing machines, photography, lucifer matches, locomotives, 
 breechloaders, heavy ordnance, and many other things that within living 
 recollection were either very clumsy affairs, or not even yet invented. A 
 time is coming when everybody, we presume, will carry his own telephone 
 about with him. Wherever he goes he will be able to step into a telegraph 
 office, apply his own wire to the public wire, and hold a private conversa- 
 tion with a wife, or a son, or a customer, or a political friend, at the end, 
 without the intervention of a public servant. He will pay by the minute. 
 The wire, it is stated, must be a quiet one, for it is apt to pick up stray 
 sound. On the other hand, it is now announced that a remedy has been 
 found for this, and that a wire thus encumbered can be cleared of strange 
 utterances before it comes to the telephone. Perhaps the use of under- 
 ground wires, now on other accounts much insisted on, may be found a 
 more effectual remedy. 
 
 The discovery has come happily just at the time when there had arisen 
 a dreary feeling that we had arrived at the end of original discoveries, and 
 had nothing to do but work out our old ones. It is true we have been 
 penetrating continents, sounding the deep sea, hunting matter down to 
 molecules, finding perfume in filth, dyes in dirt, and food in refuse. It is 
 also true that the annual catalogue of new facts in science has been stated 
 to amount to a thick, closely-printed volume. But these are not matters 
 that concern everybody, at least directly. They do not revolutionise the 
 world. What the telephone promises is hardly short of this. There is 
 no reason why a man should not hold conversation with a son at the Anti- 
 podes, distinguish his voice, hear, his breathing, and, if the instrument be 
 applied as a stethoscope, hear his heart's throb. Next to seeing — nay, 
 rather than seeing — what would parents give to hear the very voice, the 
 familiar laugh, the favourite song, of the child long separated by a solid 
 mass 8000 miles in diameter ? The telescope is only a prolongation of 
 the eye, and the telephone is only a second ear. For some time there has 
 been a prophetic idea that a speech ought to be able to report itself. There 
 is now no difficulty in the matter, except that the telephone will be only 
 too true, and will serve the orator and the public only too well. Will the 
 telephone be able to convey the singing of our birds to the less vocal tro- 
 pical regions, the breaking of the surge, or any other of Nature's sweet or 
 wild utterances? Will it bring to our metropolis the dreadful sounds of
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION: 469 
 
 the bombardment or the battlefield ? But what next ? There is hardly 
 anything conceivable that may not be hoped for, if not, indeed, expected. 
 We have only to look back the length of an ordinary lifetime and consider 
 how much the world has advanced in that period to form a fair estimate of 
 what is in store for our successors. The world has not exhausted itself ; 
 mind has not done all its work ; Nature teems with fresh wonders ; time 
 has more children yet to come. When shall we store and distribute the 
 manifold bounties of Nature running to waste ? W^hen shall we counteract 
 the uncertainty of the elements ? When shall we penetrate the mystery 
 of the winds .? Shall we ever cover the whole earth with fertility and 
 verdure ? Shall we not only combat, but extirpate disease, as some 
 diseases have, in fact, disappeared 1 To come down to the improvement 
 of existing means, when shall we bring railway travelling to the perfection 
 of speed, comfort, and safety ? All these are mere mechanical problems. 
 The greatest perfection is not so improbable as the railway itself was only 
 fifty years ago. In none of these matters has mankind yet made so serious 
 and persistent an endeavour as to be sure that the failure is not in itself, 
 rather than in the work to be done. They seem impossible ; so did the 
 idea of the telephone but the other day. — The Times, November 19, 
 1877. 
 
 THE TELEPHONE. 
 
 No apter illustration of the amazing adaptability of science to human 
 requirements, psychical as well as physical, can well be imagined than that 
 recently recorded in the columns of the Liverpool Courier. According 
 to our contemporary, the telephone has been laid down from Childwall 
 Church, a Liverpudlian fane, to the house of a lady resident at a distance 
 of half a mile from that place of worship, whose infirmities do not permit 
 of her attending Divine service outside her own dwelling. By aid, how- 
 ever, of the electric " far speaker," as the German Postmaster-General has 
 christened ]\Ir. Edison's invention, ritual performances, we are told, are 
 instantaneously conveyed to this pious valetudinarian's ear every Sunday 
 morning, afternoon, and evening, as she reclines comfortably upon her 
 drawing-room sofa. The distinctness with which she hears the chants, 
 hymns, and lesson, it would appear, leaves nothing to be desired. But, 
 probably owing to some elocutionary shortcomings on the part of the 
 Childwall preachers, she can only "catch fragmentary sentences of the 
 sermons." Let us hope that the disappointment and privation involved 
 in this untoward fact will, now that it has obtained local publicity, be 
 promptly obviated by greater distinctness in the pulpit utterances pro- 
 nounced for the benefit of the Childwall congregation. 
 
 THE TELEPHONE. 
 
 The Rev. G, W. Warr, vicar of Childwall Parish Church, writes : "Allow 
 me to state, in reference to observations on the introduction of the tele-
 
 470 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 phone into the Childwall Church, that the statement as to the defective 
 hearing of the sermons was not, as suggested, owing to ' some short- 
 comings on the part of tlie preacher,' but solely to the temporary and 
 improper position of the instrument employed. That defect has been 
 remedied, and the sermon, as well as the services, were heard on Sunday 
 last, word by word, at a distance of half a mile from the church." 
 
 THE EDISON TELEPHONE. 
 
 The Paris Correspondent of the Standard gives the following par- 
 ticulars respecting the operation of the Edison Telephone in Paris : — 
 
 " Homer tells us of winged words that flew far and fast, but the wondrous 
 agency by means of which a conversation can be kept up between two 
 persons stationed at fifty miles' distance from each other beats the achieve- 
 ments of all the gods and goddesses of Olympus put together. A series of 
 experiments with the Edison telegraph and motograph took place yesterday 
 over the wires of the Compagnie de L'Ouest, at the station in the Rue St. 
 Lazare, which established the power of those wonderful instruments in 
 annihilating time and space as regards the transmission of sound. The 
 Western Company obligingly placed a room at the St. Lazare terminus at 
 the disposal of the Edison Company, and telephonic centres were established 
 at Saint Germain, and Asnieres, and Mantes, the wires being so arranged \^ 
 as to give a complete transit of seventy-eight kilometres. Saint Germain -^ 
 is about twenty-one kilometres from Paris, Asnieres only six, and IMantes * 
 fifty-one. It is clear, therefore, that if the sound was transmitted to 
 Mantes it would travel only over fifty-one kilometres ; but the wires having 
 been connected, the sound first went to Saint Germain, then back to 
 Asnieres, and on to Mantes, thus travelling over seventy-nine kilometres, 
 or in round numbers fifty English miles. Though only the common wires 
 of the Company were used, the result was completely satisfactory. Mantes 
 conversed readily with Paris. Saint Germain was then ordered to converse 
 with Mantes, and did so ; a curious feature being that the sound passed 
 through Paris and the words uttered at Mantes were distinctly heard here 
 before — though the difference in time was not appreciable — they were 
 heard at Saint Germain. A tune was played on the flute at Mantes, and 
 it was distinctly heard at the Paris station, and the large and distinguished 
 company assembled in the Rue St. Lazare withdrew with the conviction 
 that they had been witnessing the working of one of the most wonderful 
 discoveries of an age of wonders. Dr. Puskas, who is in charge of Mr. 
 Edison's discovery here, deserves the thanks of those present for his 
 singularly able and lucid exposition of the working of the machinery and 
 of its practical value. I am not a man of science, and cannot attempt to 
 give a scientific explanation of how the wonderful results arrived at are 
 achieved ; but as a man of business I can perhaps make clear to your 
 readers what it is the Edison, Gower, and other Telephonic Companies 
 propose to do. It is no more than has been done in Boston, New York,
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 471 
 
 and Chicago, and even small places like Danvers. There are three Tele- 
 phonic companies in this city, all of whom have obtained the authorisation 
 of the Government to establish what I may call house-to-house verbal com- 
 munication. I do not know the modus operajidi of the other companies, 
 but here is what the Edison people profess to be able to do. On the pay- 
 ment of a monthly subscription of fifty francs they will place a telephonic 
 apparatus in your house or office, and lay from thence a wire to their 
 central office. There is a frame with numbers corresponding to the names 
 of the other subscribers. If my friend's number is, say 21, and I have an 
 immediate and pressing communication to make to him, all I have to do 
 is to press a knob opposite No. 21. This is a warning to the central office 
 to connect my wire with his wire, an operation which, I am informed, takes 
 up but little time. As soon as the operation is completed, the central 
 office notify it to me by ringing my electric bell. I then go to my tele- 
 phone, speak to my friend and hear what he has to say, and we may go on 
 conversing as long as we like. In a city like Paris such an invention is an 
 inestimable boon. I have only to add that the Edison Company by charging 
 only fifty francs a month for such accommodation must be confident of suc- 
 cess. It is not, moreover, only for short distances. I will assume that I am 
 a merchant in Paris, and have a correspondent in Havre. By means of the 
 special wires they mean to lay, I am informed that I could converse with 
 my correspondent one hundred and fifty miles off as easily as if he were 
 in the same room ; and in course of time, as the working of this wonderful 
 instrument progresses, communications which cannot so well be exchanged 
 by telegram or letter will be able to take place freely between Paris and 
 London. The fact that you may have instantaneous communication with 
 all those with whom it may be necessary to speak, even in a great city, 
 laid on in your house or office, just as water or gas, and on payment of a 
 trifling sum a year, is one of considerable importance, politically, socially, 
 and commercially. It is almost startling to think that before three months 
 are over it may be a. fait accompli, and almost cease to be the wonder that 
 it is." 
 
 THE EDISON TELEPHONE IN LONDON. 
 
 The following extracts are made from a very interesting article in 
 the Times, describing the practical application of the Edison Telephone 
 in London : — 
 
 " Telephonic intercommunication on a practical working scale has at 
 length become an accomplished fact in the City of London, as was 
 demonstrated on Saturday last by means of the Edison loud-speaking tele- 
 phone, to a number of scientific gentlemen and others connected with this 
 exceedingly interesting question, both as regards its scientific and com- 
 mercial aspects. It has for long past been well known that this method 
 of communication is extensively practised in the United vStates, where the 
 system has taken firm root. And it has also been equally well known that 
 endeavours have recently been made to establish a similar system in 
 England. Saturday witnessed the achievement of this object with the
 
 I 
 
 472 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 Edison telephone, when what will probably prove to be but the first instal- 
 ment of a widespread system of public service was successfully inaugurated. 
 The peculiarity of this telephone is, that the diaphragm of the receiving 
 instrument is set in vibration by a process altogether different from -that 
 which obtains in any other telephonic system or instrument. The present 
 very perfect apparatus is due primarily to the fact, that during some experi- 
 mental researches, in 1872, Mr. Edison made the discovery that when a 
 strip of paper moistened with a chemical solution which was readily 
 decomposed when a current of electricity was passed through it was 
 subjected to the action of the electric current, its surface became smoother. 
 When, however, the current was withdrawn the paper regained its normal 
 character, and was comparatively rough. From this it followed that if 
 the paper was drawn with a uniform tractive force over a metal base, 
 having connection with one pole of a gaVanic battery and a strip of 
 platinum foil or wire connected with the other pole was pressed on the 
 paper, the latter would slip whenever an electrical current was transmitted. 
 Upon the current ceasing to flow, however, the travel of the paper would 
 be retarded by frictional resistance. Here, then, was the means of putting 
 in motion matter at a distance by means of electricity without the interven- 
 tion of an electro-magnet. This new principle, therefore, supplied Mr. 
 Edison with a substitute for the electro-magnet in all forms of telegraph 
 instruments, and he was not slow to avail himself of the advantages pre- 
 sented by his discovery in various practical directions in telegraphy! He 
 at once applied the principle to the construction of a telegraphic relay 
 instrument, in which he entirely dispensed with the use of electro-magnets." 
 
 The Times then gives a description of the mechanical arrangements 
 by which sounds are conveyed and reproduced, and proceeds : — 
 
 " The instrument is so arranged that a conversation can be maintained 
 between two persons at a distance without the slightest personal incon- 
 venience or difficulty, the transmitting part of the apparatus being placed 
 conveniently for the mouth and the receiving portion in a line with the ear. 
 The practical application of the system at present extends to ten stations, 
 all placed in connection with a central station called the Telephone 
 Exchange, which is situated in Lombard Street. The stations, or, more pro- 
 perly speaking, the private offices, which are connected with the Exchange, 
 are situated — No, i in Copthall Buildings, No. 2 in Old Broad Street, No. 3 
 in Suffolk Lane, No. 4 in Lombard Street, No. 5 in Princes Street, No 6 
 in Carey Street, Lincoln's Inn, No. 7 in Queen Victoria Street (the offices 
 of the company). No. 8 in George Yard, Lombard Street, No. 9 in 
 Throgmorton Street, No. 10 being our own establishment. At the central 
 office there is a switch-board capable of being connected with twenty-four 
 different stations, but which at present is only connected with the ten we 
 have mentioned. The number twenty-four is the most that can be attended 
 to by one person, but there may be any number of switch-boards in the 
 same room, and any station on one board can be connected with any one 
 on another board. Adjoining the switch-board is a telephonic apparatus, 
 and the operator — who may be a boy- — sits in front of the board. Assuming 
 that station No. 2 wishes to communicate with No. 6, the person at No. 2
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 473 
 
 calls the attention of the attendant at the Exchange by means of an electric 
 bell. At the same moment a shutter on the switch-board falls and discloses 
 the number of the applicant. The attendant acknowledges the signal, and 
 No. 2 instantly says, ' Connect me with No. 6.' The shifting of a pin 
 effects this, and Nos. 2 and 6 are left to communicate with each other. At 
 the close of the conversation No. 2 gives a signal on the bell to intimate 
 that he has finished, and the attendant withdraws the pin, and Nos. 2 and 
 6 are instantly separated. And so with any other numbers ; they can be 
 instantly connected or disconnected, and any number of stations can be 
 connected up in couples and worked at the same time. Of course, only 
 one station can be connected with one other at the same time ; but the 
 coupling and the uncoupling are effected so quickly that a person may 
 communicate with any others in very rapid succession. 
 
 " The practical success of all these arrangements must depend very 
 largely upon the possession of a means of communication which meets 
 certain everyday requirements. In other words, it means that the trans- 
 mitting instruments employed must be able to transmit messages clearly, 
 and either in a loud tone, go as to meet the contingency of the receiving 
 party being a short distance from his instrument, or in a low tone, so as to 
 enable a conversation to be carried on which may be audible to the receiv- 
 ing party, but inaudible to others who may be near and whose ears it is 
 desirable that the conversation shall not reach. These necessary conditions 
 were shown to be amply present, with many others, in the Edison loud- 
 speaking telephone on Saturday, the working being in charge of Mr. E. H. 
 Johnson, the engineer, and Mr. Arnold White, the manager of the com- 
 pany. Loud-speaking this telephone certainly is, but it is none the less 
 soft-speaking also, for conversations were carried on between two parties in 
 whispers, and although a low hissing sound was perceptible to the by- 
 standers, they were unable to catch the words of the speaker at the distant 
 station. On the other hand, words spoken in a loud tone were audible 
 even at times above the hum of conversation. A great many tests were 
 applied by those present in order to prove the system in various ways, but 
 in no case was there any failure, although at some of the stations the 
 operators were quite fresh at the work, and in one or two instances were 
 possessed of rather weak voices. Communications were opened, main- 
 tained, and closed with the various stations in rapid succession, including 
 our own, and with every success. And here we may mention that a 
 paragraph was recently set in type in our office which was dictated through 
 the telephone, the result being a perfectly correct reproduction of the 
 transmitted subject. 
 
 " It will thus be seen that this latest and most important outcome of 
 Mr. Edison's scientific researches has so far proved itself to be a practical 
 success in this country. Its future development will of course be governed 
 by the demand for this method of communication, and although there may 
 not be so large a scope for it in London and some of the provinces as in 
 the cities of the United States, there is still a wide field for its application, 
 more especially perhaps in country towns and outlying districts. With 
 regard to the distance at which communication can be maintained without 
 difficulty by means of the telephone, it is stated that it has been worked
 
 474 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 between stations one hundred miles apart in America. Shorter distances 
 however, are considered to be better than long ones for perfect transmission, 
 and as a rule it may be taken that there is no loss of power up to about five 
 miles' distance. Beyond that point there is a perceptible loss, which goes 
 on increasing with the distance. But in practice even five miles will no 
 doubt be found to be an exceptional distance, and would perhaps only be 
 met with where two stations were each two miles and a-half from the 
 central exchange. At any rate, so far as present requirements are con- 
 cerned, the apparatus as now arranged appears to fulfil all the conditions 
 and requirements of practice, and, while we congratulate its inventor upon 
 its success, we may anticipate its widespread application." 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 
 
 At a recent meeting of the Royal Asiatic Society, Albemarle Street, 
 Professor Abel, of Berlin, read an interesting and suggestive paper on the 
 Origin of Language ; the chair being taken by Sir Henry Rawlinson, 
 K. C. B., and the attendance of prominent members being so numerous as 
 to crowd the Council Room. The well-known philologist commenced his 
 speculation touching the genesis of human speech by premising that 
 language is commonly assumed to have been always as intelligible as it 
 is now. By way of laying the foundation of his inquiry in as remote an 
 age as modern linguistic research has reached, Professor Abel took the 
 early Egyptian, remarking that this was anciently a language of homonyms 
 confused by the use of one sound for a multitude of things, and by the 
 converse phenomenon of a great variety of sounds, all signifying the same 
 thing. These imperfections of language the lecturer identified with what 
 he termed a literature of pictures. And even as these signs and symbols 
 were needed to piece out the sense of written words, so might it well be 
 supposed that gestures must have accompanied lingual speech. The 
 further back we go in the history of man, the more sensuous must have 
 been the subjects of his discourse, and the more easily expressed in panto- 
 mime. As ideas became familiar, a selective process would gradually 
 have fixed the meaning of words, and would have rejected hieroglyphic 
 aid. Professor Abel then showed, by way of illustration, how thirty-seven 
 words, all signifying the same thing, in the earliest hieroglyphic writing, 
 were reduced in number to ten, in the subsequent Coptic literature. 
 The same development from vagueness of sound to clearness and pre- 
 cision he considered by analogy to have been probable in the Aryan 
 and Semitic tongues, and indeed in all forms of language whatever. 
 The rank luxuriance of synonyms was thinned as soon as the systematic 
 process of planting began. Such ascertained phenomena as those adduced, 
 in regard to the most ancient of now decypherable languages, would, 
 he conceived, negative the idea that speech originated in an outburst 
 of inspiration. He then proceeded to notice inversions of sound, inver- 
 sions of sense, and inversions both of sound and sense. Among words 
 whose meaning was exactly inverted, in ancient Egyptian literature, he 
 mentioned those which stand antithetically for strong and weak, to cut to
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 475 
 
 pieces and to unite, to take and to let lie, to receive and to give, to hold 
 fast and to let go. Vast numbers of homophonic words, he contended, 
 were far from fortuitous ; contrasts and antitheses being necessary to the 
 understanding of all things. The school-boy, in a scientific age, must 
 know what one kind of angle is, before he can define another kind. In 
 the childhood of mankind, there was doubtless a mental wrestling after 
 the most elementary meanings. A thing and its contrary had therefore 
 a logical connection so close that, in the infancy of speech, it might very 
 naturally find expression in the same word, slight phonetic differentiations 
 distinguishing between the several meanings of the same word. Contra- 
 dictory prepositions, compounded of two opposites, the lecturer observed to 
 be frequent not only in the ancient Egyptian language, but in modern 
 German and English. He instanced notably the words "without," "with- 
 hold," " withstand," and " withdraw," observing how opposed each was to 
 the sense of the monosyllable word "with." On the conclusion of his 
 paper, Professor Abel was warmly applauded ; and a vote of thanks was 
 unanimously accorded him, on the motion of the President. 
 
 FUTURE OF THE ENGLISH STAGE. 
 
 At the London Institution, Finsbury Circus, on January 2nd, 1880, 
 Professor Henry Morley, of University College, delivered an interesting 
 lecture to a crowded audience on "The Future of the English Stage." 
 
 Professor Morley said that at the present day the attitude of literature 
 towards the stage was entirely friendly, and if they looked at the theatre, 
 it was now in a more hopeful condition than formerly. Managers, authors, 
 and play-goers had recently been discussing in the public press its con- 
 dition, to the great gain of the theatre. There was a strong bending of 
 attention to the subject, and there was a marked improvement in the 
 general character of the performances at the London theatres. He believed 
 that that evening there were being acted nine original plays which were 
 not taken from the French, and there was unquestionably in the public 
 mind a tendency towards the necessity of endeavouring to make the stage 
 their own. In regard to the future, first they would wish to see plays pro- 
 duced by living writers as much as possible, and they wished them to be 
 supplemented, not by translations from the Frencl^ but by drafts on the 
 English dramatic literature of the past. Let the honest work of original 
 wit always be welcome, and let them go and see plays which were honest 
 and wholesome, but failing this they should fall back upon their old 
 resources of dramatic literature. It should be borne in mind that Shake- 
 speare was not their only dramatist, for they could give Shakespeare to the 
 world, and beat the world with their English dramatists. He urged 
 managers to put aside the "cork jacket" of French plays and swim with- 
 out such aid, for the generality of the plays from the French were artificial 
 and not true to nature. The stage could never be elevated while the "man 
 about town " was looked to as its chief patron. It must look broadly to
 
 476 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 the English people for support. In the plays produced there must be art 
 and skill in the construction, and wit and genius. In the future the best 
 actors ought to take their place as professional men side by side with the 
 best men of any other profession in the country. If the profession of the 
 actor was to be thoroughly and generally recognised, it was necessary that 
 actors of the highest class should be educated as men were for other pro- 
 fessions. It was desirable that the higher culture of the actor should take 
 place in London, at any one of the colleges, which would, he felt sure, 
 warmly welcome actors among the students. For the profession, there 
 was no doubt that a dramatic school was wanted. He had put down in 
 writing a sketch of a proposed society, which might be called " The 
 Dramatic Institute," for aid to the liberal training of young actors, and for 
 furtherance of the higher interests of the stage in England. The first 
 and chief work should be the formation of an academy for the training of 
 young actors and actresses, upon a plan similar to that adopted for the 
 training of young painters by the Royal Academy. Study in this art 
 school should be free to all young actors and actresses who have shown 
 skill enough to obtain a first engagement at a London theatre, and to 
 others upon two conditions : (i) That they are really looking to the stage 
 as a profession ; and (2) that they satisfy the managing committee with 
 fair evidence of an aptitude for it. The students in the academy of this 
 institute should be first thoroughly trained in all technical details of their 
 chosen profession under a manager who should be a retired actor of some 
 mark, receiving his salary from the institute, and provided with rooms in 
 the house. This technical instruction would correspond to the more 
 elementary training — the drawing from the antique — in a fine art school. 
 The advance to higher training in the development of original power, 
 instruction in the subtleties of stage interpretation applied to the highest 
 forms of dramatic literature, should be given by the great masters of the 
 actor's profession ; so that apt learners would be taught by the great 
 actors, as apt learners at the Royal Academy are taught by the great 
 painters, who go in turn to give their unpaid help. Several rooms would 
 be needed for this work of teaching. One of them must needs be a large 
 room fitted with a stage. On this stage, used daily in teaching, there 
 should be once in each month a morning performance by the students, 
 open to all fellows and members ; and twice a year there might be a public 
 performance, in some theatre lent for the occasion, by students of the 
 academy, to which fellows, members, and annual subscribers of one 
 guinea should be admitted free, and the public generally upon payment. 
 Associated with the art school there should be a library, which it should 
 be the object of the institute to make, in course of time, a complete collec- 
 tion of English dramatic literature, and of books that treat of it or any 
 of its accessories, as costume, &c. The general culture of the students in 
 the academy of the institute should be encouraged to the utmost, and 
 advanced when necessary, as far as the funds allow, by grants in aid. 
 Scholarships might be founded, tenable at either of the chief London 
 colleges, for the study of languages, literature, and fine art. There might 
 also be travelling studentships for some who were most qualified to profit 
 by the observation of great actors in France, Germany, or Italy. More 
 
 f
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 477 
 
 than this might be done with means sufficient ; but it must not be forgotten 
 that assurance of a very modest income would enable the work to be really 
 begun. Once well begun and steadily worked at, all those developments 
 which time and experience may find to be the best will surely follow. In 
 conclusion, he disclaimed any idea of wishing to deal with the stage in a 
 pedantic manner. He did not desire to see any artificial pampering or 
 altering the conditions of the drama, but let the stage go on as it was then, 
 for both the plays and the actors were improving. 
 
 A FRENCH ACTOR'S VIEW OF THE ENGLISH STAGE AND 
 ENGLISH ELOCUTION. 
 
 The subjoined letter, addressed by M. Got, the distinguished actor of 
 the Come'die FranQaise, to an English friend, will certainly be read with 
 interest, as remarks on the English stage from such a quarter are 
 entitled to great weight : — 
 
 Paris, Friday, August 8, 1879, 9-3° p-M- 
 "You ask for my opinion of your stage. Is it not, however, delicate 
 and awkward for an actor and a Frenchman, especially after the courteous 
 and highly sympathetic reception which the Com^die Frangaise, for the 
 second time in ten years, has just received in London, to speak on such a 
 subject to actors and lovers of the dramatic art in England? But no ; and 
 I think I show my sense of this honour in replying with perfect frankness, 
 the only thing becoming and useful between rivals who esteem and respect 
 each other. Still, I scarcely read English fluently, and spoken English is 
 too often beyond me. I shall not, therefore, commit the rashness or folly 
 of attempting any judgment on your elocution and declamation per se. As 
 to things of the eye and of action, it is different ; they are within the range 
 of all, more especially of me as a practitioner. Expect, therefore, from 
 me the mature impression of a deaf and dumb man, as it were. Let 
 homage, however, be first paid by the French comedians to the great 
 nation to which you belong. We have still to bear the last vestiges of tha 
 prejudice which refused a tomb to Moliere, whereas Garrick has rested for 
 a century among the celebrities of your wonderful Westminster Abbey, at the 
 very foot of the monument raised to Shakespeare. Well, strange to say, in 
 your theatres, however fine the part allotted to the pubHc, the part allotted 
 to the actors seems to us wretched. You dress in black holes without 
 ventilation on second floors below the stage. What .? So honoured 
 morally and so ill-used physically ! Is there not a kind of contradiction 
 here ? But this is an affair between managers and actors ; let us pass on 
 and enter one of your theatres. On the rising of the curtain — a curtain 
 almost always a dull green, threadbare affair — what strikes the French 
 spectator in London is the aspect of decorations, generally more the worse 
 for wear than at Paris. When equally well kept the effect is more glaring, 
 especially with too much electric light, even in theatres where, as at the 
 Lyceum, the Prince of Wales's, and also the Alhambra, attention is now 
 paid to this part of the entertainment. The same thing may often be said 
 of the costumes and the mise-en-scene. It is fair, however, to acknowledge
 
 478 KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II 
 
 and to lay stress on this point — that during the last ten years your progress 
 has been unquestionable and almost marvellous here, as elsewhere, in all 
 the plastic and ornamental arts. There needs no other proof of this than 
 the jealous but, at heart, noble feeling which, at the last Universal Exhi- 
 bition in France, stirred our painters, our sculptors, above all, our water- 
 colourists, and our industrial artists, on seeing the British section. Well, 
 the feeling of the Parisian actors at your theatrical execution was of the 
 same kind ; first a species of surprise — we were not prepared for it, it is 
 true. Frenchmen as we are — and then sincere homage. For my part, 
 I had seen on visits some of your great actors — Phelps, for example, and 
 Charles Mathews, both now dead ; and I had admired the vigour of the 
 former and the rare and original grace of the latter, from whom a Mercadet 
 whom I know well had been happy to borrow considerably in his Game of 
 Speculation. I had also seen Mr. Toole, whose witty and brilliant verve 
 I did not this time witness, Mr. Irving, and Miss Genevieve Ward — an 
 actress, French also, if she likes, some day. I again saw Mr. Irving, so 
 remarkable in the Bells ^ in Charles /., and in Hamlet, while a new and 
 charming Ophelia appeared before one in the form of Miss Ellen Terry, 
 already an acquisition and a promise for the future. I saw the celebrated 
 Mrs. Kendal, a fine actress, at the Court Theatre, and Mr. William 
 Herbert, At the Prince of Wales's I saw, with Mr. Bancroft, Miss Marie 
 Wilton, so deservedly popular ; at the Adelphi, Mr, Neville and Mr. 
 Hermann Vezin, and the handsome Miss Neilson ; at the Princess's, Mr. 
 Warner in Drink ; and beside him, in a difficult and ungrateful part, a 
 young man, whose cleverness and precision much struck me — Mr. William 
 Fx.edmund. I saw Miss Moodie and Mrs. John Wood in the Crisis at the 
 Haymarket : and the Vaudeville company in the last of Mr. Byron's great 
 successes — that is to say, the last but one, for he is ever replacing one by 
 another. How many others, doubtless, whom I either could not see, or 
 now blame myself for having neglected to take their names, but whose 
 clear and graceful acting remains in my memory ! One, for instance, at 
 the Opdra Comique — Mr. Rutland Barrington, if I am not mistaken, so 
 humorous in the amusing and thoroughly English comic opera of Pi7iafore. 
 Such was honestly the effect produced on me by the, alas ! too superficial 
 study to which I devoted myself, with equal curiosity and pleasure, during 
 my few hours' leisure in the various trips I have made to London. What 
 would it be if I could have fully judged of the dialogues of the pieces and 
 the delivery of the actors .'' But did not the applause or laughter of the 
 crowd, after all, guide me ; and do we not know by experience, my dis- 
 tinguished colleagues of the Com^die Francaise and myself, how subtle and 
 discriminating is the judgment of the London public, especially of the 
 ladies, whose perception amazed us from the first by its delicacy ; and of 
 that other grande dame, the Press, whose art critics are recognised behind 
 their incognito by the acuteness and polish of their style and ideas, even 
 those whose pen is sometimes armed with a just point of irony. These 
 lead me back straight to my subject, for if I wish to speak the truth, which 
 is praise, I wish also to be critical, which is truth. Now, if in the French 
 school one may blame, perhaps with reason, the school itself, and conse- 
 quently the conventionality rather too common to all, and of a uniform
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTION. 479 
 
 level, we have at least an unquestionable ensemble, whereas the English 
 manner, inspired by the individuality and 'self of each, necessarily con- 
 duces less to this ensetnble, and sometimes leaves isolated those of the 
 actors whom their individuality brings from the first into prominence. 
 Another reproach : we are told that we sing ; and this is often true, I 
 think ; but French art springs almost exclusively from the ancients, using 
 rhythm even in prose, and measured and universal movement even in 
 passion ; whereas the originality of English art lies in the genial force of 
 the idea ; whether dramatic or burlesque, it is almost always somewhat 
 rude and rough. This art should, therefore, be homogeneous in its 
 expression, But,_ let me assure you, you also frequently sing your words 
 more than you suspect ; and I may add that you are right when it is the 
 author who wishes it — the author, who is the master of all of us. Now, 
 what poet, what lyrical orator, but wishes to be sung, seeing that he begins 
 by singing himself.'' Listen to him. Several times at Westminster I was 
 present at the pleading of your great barristers. One evening, a fine 
 opportunity — for which I am still grateful to the Savage Club — enabled 
 me to hear close by and clearly understand the pure, eloquent, and har- 
 monious voice of the illustrious Mr. Gladstone. What power, what charm ! 
 And what would your actors lose by pronouncing and modulating thus .' 
 But I said in the beginning of this letter that I would treat only of what 
 struck my own eyes. I sum up, therefore, by declaring that the level of 
 theatrical execution in England seems to me considerably rising, I have 
 seen the German stage at Vienna and Weimar and Munich carefully 
 nursed, especially at Vienna ; it is not superior to yours on this head. If, 
 after rendering justice to the actors, I now ventured to go further, and 
 hazarded some judgments on the moral side and the tendencies of your 
 stage, I should then, without doubt, be more exclusive in our own favour. 
 For, if each country providentially bears certain special fruits, has not art 
 in general, and dramatic art in particular, been, and is it not still, rather, 
 the vine, as it were, the peculiarity of France ? It is true that Shake- 
 speare, sweeping suddenly with the great wings of genius above the mysteries 
 and platitudes of the Middle Ages, preceded by several years our grand 
 outburst of the seventeenth century ; but it is none the less true that the 
 stage is still a national product, lovingly appreciated and cultivated, in my 
 own country. You have authors certainly, and brilliant ones ; but are not, 
 after all, our authors, translated or adapted, the chief springs of your 
 dramatic life ? Do not refuse us this piece of pride, for you have a right 
 to so many others. In a word, we are the Greeks, in my opinion, and you 
 are the Romans, Menander does not prevent Plautus, Roscius does not 
 exclude Aristodemus. It is with this I would conclude. Farewell, my 
 dear friend. Give my best remembrances to those members of the Garrick 
 Club who, thanks to you, honoured me with such gracious hospitality. 
 
 " Edmond Got. Doyen of the Comedie Franqaise."
 
 48o KING'S COLLEGE LECTURES [Appendix II. 
 
 NOTE TO LECTURE VI. 
 
 A most useful and interesting little work by Herr Emil Behnke, Lecturer 
 on Vocal Physiology at the Tonic Sol-fa College, has, since the present 
 edition of these Lectures has been in type, been published by Messrs. J. 
 Curwen & Sons, of 8 Warwick Lane, E. C. (price 3s.), under the title of 
 " The Mechanism of the Human Voice." It is full of sound, practical 
 common-sense, based upon true, physiological principles • and in discussing 
 what is the right mode of carrying on respiration, the author says (p. 21) : 
 "With regard to the question whether inspiration should take place 
 through the mouth or through the nostrils, I must enter my most decided 
 protest against making it a practice to inhale through the mouth. There 
 are, of course, occasions when this is unavoidable, as, for instance, where 
 the singer has rapidly to take what is called a 'half-breath.' But 
 complete inflation or ' full-breath ' is not the work of a moment ; it takes 
 time, and must be done gradually, steadily, and without the slightest 
 interruption. This should always be done through the nostrils. The 
 mouth was never intended for breathing, while the nose is specially and 
 admirably adapted for this purpose. Not only can the lungs be well and 
 quickly filled through this channel, but it is so cunningly devised, that it 
 acts at the same time as a ' respirator,' both purifying and warming the 
 air before it reaches the more delicate parts of the vocal organ. On the 
 other hand, when inhaled through the mouth, the air carries with it some- 
 times right into the voice-box [i.e., the Larynx) dust and other impurities, 
 and its temperature is not materially altered. The consequence is, that 
 the throat and voice-box, when heated by singing or talking, or by hot rooms, 
 are often exposed to cold, raw, and foggy winter air, and serious derange- 
 ments of the respiratory organs are the natural consequence. If, moreover, 
 this pernicious habit of breathing be once contracted, we shall soon also 
 sleep with open mouths, thus parching our throats, and sowing the seeds 
 of many a serious disorder." 
 
 Again in that excellent collection of Papers by various writers, edited 
 by Mr. James Hinton, under the title of " Physiology for Practical Use," 
 and published by Messrs. Henry S. King & Co., 12 Paternoster Row, 
 London, it is stated in the Paper on "The Sense of Smell," at p. 103 : 
 " Even if we did not smell at all, we must still have a nose to breathe 
 through. For it may not be amiss to remark — being upon noses — that 
 the habit of breathing through the mouth instead, is a very bad one, and 
 one that should never be tolerated especially in children. Not that it 
 should be combated by command or argument alone, though these also 
 are needful, still less by punishment. It never exists unless there is an 
 impediment to the natural way of breathing, in the form generally of 
 swelling of the lining membrane of the nose, and that impediment should 
 of course be cured. We ought to breathe not through our mouths, but 
 
 I 
 
 i
 
 Appendix II.] ON ELOCUTIOX. 4S1 
 
 through our noses, not only because it is by this means alone we can duly 
 receive and enjoy the odours (when enjoyable) which accompany every 
 breath, or take warning by them, if the contrary, but because the nose is 
 itself a natural respirator. It contains a special provision for warming and 
 moistening the air inspired." 
 
 Two Voices and a Double Epiglottis. — Dr. Thomas R. French 
 relates, in the Annals of the Anatomical and Surgical Society of New 
 York, a very remarkable case of this kind. It is that of a man, thirty 
 years old, by occupation a singer and contortionist at variety shows. He 
 came complaining of a weakness of the voice ; that he could not always 
 grasp the note at the beginning of a piece or turn of a song. He can 
 command with ease the chest and the falsetto registers, and in singing 
 has a baritone and a falsetto voice. Neither gives him the least discomfort, 
 and in ordinary conversation he has no preference as to which to use. In 
 his family he uses the high voice entirely, but in business prefers the low 
 voice. He uses either according to habit or association, and asserts that 
 many of his friends are not aware that he has two voices. He gained 
 the extra voice when he was sixteen years old. In singing he always uses 
 the high voice, as with it he can command a greater compass. — British 
 Medical Journal, August 1880. 
 
 Another very interesting work on the voice, by Mr. Charles Lunn, has 
 just been published {Septcnd)er 1880), entitled "Vox Populi." It forms a 
 sequel to "The Philosophy of Voice" (W. Reeves, 185 Fleet Street, price 
 IS. 6d.), and will well repay perusal. 
 
 2 H
 
 ( 4S3 ) 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS 
 
 . ON 
 
 MR. PLUMPTRE'S PREVIOUS EDITIONS OF "KING'S COLLEGE 
 LECTURES ON ELOCUTION." 
 
 "Mr. C. J. Plumptre lias published a new and greatly enlarged edition of his 
 ' Lectures on Elocution at King's College.' Tlie book is sound, sensible, and interest- 
 ing ; and though the many examples must have had naturally much greater weight 
 when delivered vh'a voce, students of the English Language and of Elocution cannot 
 fail to gather many valuable suggestions. . . . The best mode of learning to read 
 aloud well, no doubt, is to hear some good reader. . . . The next best way is to get 
 such a book as this, and study it carefully. Students will find the passages on the 
 pronunciation of separate letters especially valuable, as well as the appendix on 
 words occurring in the Scriptures. We should like to think that clergymen and 
 members of Parliament could be obliged to attend a course of Mr. l^lumptre's Lectures 
 on Elocution. Those will do well who study this wise book." — IVestnimster Reviezv, 
 October 1876. 
 
 " Mr. C. J. Plumptre has established a reputation as our best living teacher of 
 Elocution, and he has counted among his pupils many of the most distinguished 
 preachers and speakers of the time. He has now embodied in this volume the results 
 of his long and large experience, and it is by far the most useful and practical treatise 
 on the important art of Elocution that our language possesses. Mr. Plumptre has 
 not echoed the almost stereotyped teachings of his predecessors. He has treated the 
 .subject in quite a new form, and much more exhaustively. The description of the 
 vocal organs is a study in itself; and yet so perspicuous is the language, and so clear 
 the engraved illustrations, that a child could understand them. The instructions in 
 the use of them are equally clear and explicit ; and by careful following of them, it 
 will be in the power of any student of either sex to master the excellent art of reading 
 or speaking with propriety. Happily of late years attention has been strongly 
 directed to the importance of this art ; and in every school it should be deemed as 
 necessary a part of education to read well as to write well. That accomplishment 
 will not be so rare in the future as it has been in the past ; and the time cannot be 
 far distant when a ]3erson will be as much ashamed to read badly as to spell badly. 
 In nearly all Ladies' Colleges, teachers of Elocution are now engaged ; for it is under- 
 stood the term does not merely mean 'speaking,' as formerly it was understood to 
 do, but it embraces reading also, and therefore should be learned by both sexes alike ; 
 and all who desire to learn could not find a better instructor than this volume from 
 the pen of the Lecturer on Public Reading and Speaking in the Evening Classes 
 Department of King's College, London." — The Queen, May 27, 1876. 
 
 " In Indian Institutions we labour under difficulties in regard to pronunciation which 
 it is hard to combat. The native student enters upon the study of the English language 
 just as an Englishman would imdertake the study of French or German : to both 
 the language is foreign. Under such circumstances the importance of the purest and 
 most effective mode of pronunciation cannot be overrated. But if it is difficult for 
 Indian students to learn the proper pronunciation of single words, it is still more difficult 
 for them to learn how to pronounce those words when they are arranged into 
 sentences. And here immediately arises the necessity of encouraging instruction in 
 that art of which Mr. Plumptre is as complete a master as a teacher. In language as 
 simple as it is emphatic Mr, Plumptre proves beyond a doubt why elocution should be
 
 4S4 PKESS NOTICES. 
 
 studied by all persons of both sexes, and his arguments must be read to be appreciated. 
 It is a melanclioly fact that, while in England tliere are not wanting masters of almost 
 every art and science, few are to be found, even in that abode of vigour and wisdom, 
 who can justly appreciate and effectually practise the noble art of expressing their 
 thouglits in speech as vigorously as they can conceive and write them. We quite agree 
 with the learned author that perfect elocution owes much to talent and nature ; but 
 we also concur in his opinion that, to acquire proficiency in the art, our natural capa- 
 cities require to be fostered by assiduous cultivation. Those who neglect the study oa 
 the score that as a natural gift it cannot be acquired, put forward, they forget, but a 
 lame excuse for their own indolence and apathy. As our readers will see, we have but 
 briefly glanced at the instructive work before us. On another occasion we hope to 
 lead our readers more deeply into the various subjects that Mr. Plumptre discusses ; 
 and we do not hesitate to say that any one who wishes to gain an insight into the 
 masterly thoughts of the eloquent writer would be amply repaid by a perusal of Mr. 
 Plumpire's 'King's College Lectures on YAozuiion.'' " — IVestern Star\lndia),Jan, 1871. 
 
 "Mr. Plumptre has now for several years fulfilled with signal ability the duties 
 devolving ujion him as the Lecturer upon Public Reading and Speaking at King's Col- 
 lege, London, in the Evening Classes Department. Happily he has afforded us, one 
 and all, the opportunity forjudging of him, not merely by hearsay — of estimating him 
 not simply by the range or scope of his reputation. He has now given to the outer 
 public the means of weighing in the balance his various capabilities as an instructor in 
 elocution. He has, in the shape of a goodly volume of 200 pages octavo, presented 
 to every one who lists a series of fourteen of these King's College Lectures of his 
 on elocution — -fourteen subdivisions of a most instructive and comprehensive theme — 
 the substance of the Introductory Course of Lectures and Practical Instruction he has 
 now for some time past been annunlly delivering. The book is dedicated, by permis- 
 sion, to H. R. H. the Prince of Wales. It is followed by two very remarkable appen- 
 dices^ one of them singularly instructive, the other very curiously interesting. So far 
 as any merely printed book on elocution could accomplish its object, this one by Mr. 
 Plumptre is entitled to our highest commendation. Tlie eye, the face, the voice, the 
 gesture, are, of course, all wanting, but the argument throughout is so lucid in itself, 
 wdiile the illustrations of that argument are so animated and so singularly felicitous, 
 that reading the work attentively page by page and lecture by lecture is the next best 
 thing to seeing and hearing the gifted professor himself, when he is, in his own person, 
 exemplifying the manifold and ever-varying charms of the all-conquering art of the 
 Rhetorician and Elocutionist." — Sun, March 5, 1870. 
 
 "Tliis, although not a law book, is a book for lawyers. Practical treatises on all 
 branches of the law may be essential to store the mind of the advocate with ideas, but 
 unless he has the power of expressing them in such a way as to command the attention 
 of the court, his learning will prove but of little avail. To a barrister the brains are 
 of but little use without the tongue ; and even the tongue, however fluent, may fail to 
 give due expression to the ideas, unless the voice is properly regulated so as to pro- 
 nounce with both clearness and force the words that are uttered, and the gestures of 
 the body enforce vidrat tlie language has attempted to impress. Many are the failures 
 of those who would otherwise have been successful advocates from want of attention to 
 the principles of elocution. Their matter has been excellent, but their manner has 
 been so bad as entirely to destroy the effect that their address must otherwise have pro- 
 duced. We cnuld point to instances of the kind in Parliament, at the Bar, and in the 
 Pulpit. To all such persons the work before us will be found invalualile ; and, indeed, 
 there are few, if any, whose duties require them to speak in public, who will fail to 
 derive advantage from its perusal. The subject is treated in a thoroughly practical 
 manner, and is fully investigated with care and judgment. Mr. Plumptre speaks with 
 the authority of a professor, and he appears to understand his subject entirely, and in 
 all its different branches. He is quite aware of all the difficulties to be encountered, 
 and is ready with advice how to meet them. His work evinces considerable research, 
 extensive classical and general knowledge, and is, moreover, full of interesting matter. 
 We commend it heartily alike to those who aspire to become orators in Parliamenr,^to 
 the Clergy, and to the Bar." — Quarterly Lazv Eevirw, May 1870.
 
 P/^ESS NOTICES. 485 
 
 "In these daj's, when Lectures and 'Penny Readings' are patronised by the 'upper 
 ten thousand,' and Dukes, Marquises, Viscounts, Earls, Barons. Baronets, M.P.'s, and 
 Esquires take part in them, and when at public dinners no one is supposed to be ' un- 
 accustomed to public speaking,' it is highly desirable that those who appear on the 
 platform, or who rise at public banquets, should be able to go through their parts 
 satisfactorily. To accomplish this there are only two ways : one, to take lessons in 
 elocution ; the other, to read works published with a view of imparting as much 
 practical instruction as can possibly be imparted by precept, where practice cannot be 
 attained. Mr. C. J. Plumptre, Lecturer at Knig's College, London, has just published 
 a volume upon the Principles and Practice of Elocution, which will be found to be of 
 the highest value to every one who is called on, either constantly or at intervals, to 
 speak in public. As a teacher Mr. Plumptre is most skilful : he is a master of his art, 
 and those who cannot avail themselves of his services will do well to study his treatise, 
 which is lucid, sound, and practical. The * King's College Lectures ' of Mr. Plumptre 
 have been honoured by the patronage of the Prince of Wales, to whom the volume 
 is by permission dedicated." — Court Journal, December 11, 1869. 
 
 " Mr. Plumptre will be known to most of our readers as a very scientific and success- 
 ful teacher of elocution ; and in this volume he has put forth the substance of the 
 course of lectures that he delivers at King's College, with such alterations and additions 
 as may meet the wants of those who are unable to avail themselves of oral instruction. 
 It is not necessary to enlarge upon the advantage of obtaining complete command of all 
 the powers of tlie voice, or to point out how very much a good manner of delivery 
 may promote the success of a medical practitioner. These considerations are obvious ; 
 and if they stood alone we should hardly have thought the lectures within our province 
 as reviewers. We find, however, that Mr. Plumptre enters at length, and with much 
 ability, into the curative treatment of impediments of speech. We have perused this 
 portion of the treatise with great care, and have much pleasure in bearing testimony to 
 its great merit. The views advanced rest upon sound physiology, and the practice 
 advocated is in complete accordance with them. Mr. Plumptre states, and our 
 experience enables us to confirm his opinion, that all cases ol stavmierivg and stuttering 
 are curable, if only the patient will exercise a certain degree of care and perseverance. 
 It is common for medical practitioners to be consulted alx)Ut such impednnents ; and 
 we feel sure that in Mr. Plumptre's lectures they will find not only much valuable 
 practical information, but also a basis of sound principles, upon which the details of 
 treatment may be founded. We recommend the book very warmly to our readers." — 
 Lancet, February 12, 1S70. 
 
 " Professor Plumptre, who is so well known for his elocutionary attamments, has 
 published a volume of fourteen of his lectures on elocution, as annually delivered 
 at King's College, London. The book is a handsome volume, and is, we perceive, 
 dedicated to the Prince of Wales. A more entertaining work it would be diffi- 
 cult to find, and it is one which we cordially recommend to the student of divinity, the 
 barrister, and the debater ; in a word, to all who desire to cultivate the faculty of 
 speech, and to be able to express their ideas with clearness, force, and elegance." — 
 Irish Gazette, Alaich 19, 1870. 
 
 " Every one ought to cultivate the art of reading ; for though, perhaps, persons may 
 not be required to speak in public, few people escape the task of reading aloud for the 
 benefit of their own family and friends. What a difference it makes if this is done 
 effectively, and how few are able to read with proper energy, correctness, and variety ! 
 This is not a book to review, but to recommend to those wlio are cultivated enough to 
 appreciate the advantages of good reading and speaking. It contains the best possible 
 directions for the management and modulation of the voice." — Victoria Magazine, 
 April 1870, 
 
 " Mr. Plumptre gives in his valuable work a series of practical suggestions which 
 will be most useful to the student, whether he may be preparing for the pulpit, the 
 bar, or the platform." — Oxford University Herald, October 1870. 
 
 "These Introductory Lectures by Mr. Plumptre are most lucidly illustrative of the 
 principles and practice of that art of elocution of which he is himself, in both senses, a
 
 486 FJ^£SS NOTICES. 
 
 ma^^ter, particularly of elocution considered in reference to the learned profession and 
 to Parliament. Mr. Plumptre appears with admirable credentials before his pupils at 
 the University, and before all those who, either in Oxford or in London, may aspire, 
 under his able tuition, to prepare themselves by an elocutionary course for the Church, 
 for tlie Bar, or for Parliament. He is himself a barrister, and is the hon. secretary 
 of the Public Reading Society, of which Lord Brougham is the president. As one 
 of the most accomplished readers of that society, he has frequently had occasion to 
 signalize here, in the metropolis, his capabilities as an elocutionist — capabilities natu- 
 rally very considerable, but, beyond that, by study and practice admirably cultivated." 
 ^Snn, March 20, 1866. 
 
 "This volume contains lectures originally delivered by Mr. Plumptre, at Oxford, 
 designed to impress upon his audience the importance of acquiring the art of elocution. 
 In that region his remarks were properly directed to the clergy and the students for the 
 Church ; but all that he said about the value, nay, the necessity for learning to speak 
 and read, and his contention that it was quite as much an art to be studied as singing, 
 drawing, or any other accomplishment, are equally applicable to our own profession. 
 Certainly a tolerable speaker is not quite so rare among the lawyers as a tolerable 
 reader among the clergy, but we must admit that good reading or speaking is still very 
 rare in either branch of the profession. Even barristers, whose express business it is 
 to speak, rarely deem it necessary to make a study of the art they are to practise every 
 day of their lives. The solicitors have more excuse for the negiect of it, for they are 
 not necessarily called on to speak ; they may escape if they will, though they are always 
 looked to as the proper persons to sustain a discussion in a public meeting, and a 
 lawyer who cannot talk is not held in the same public estimation as one who can. 
 Our own opinion of the importance of making a study of the arts of reading and 
 speaking is best shown by our endeavour to assist those who may desire to attain those 
 accomplishments with such hints as experience and study have suggested. If any 
 doubt the utility of, or even the necessity for, this acquirement, let them read Mr. 
 Plumptre's volume, and it will convince them. . . . We believe that a great 
 stimulus has been given to the subject in Oxford by these lectures, and their wider 
 diffusion will, we hope, produce equally good results, not only among the lawyers, but 
 among the general ^\xb\\c." -— The Law Times, April 2"], 1866. 
 
 "A lucid summary of a course of sound and practical lectures on elocution 
 
 The glimpse of his system which they enable us to obtain gives us a very high idea of 
 Mr. Plumptre's skill and method as a teacher, and we heartily wish him success in his 
 zealous attempt to secure an adequate recognition of this important but most universally 
 neglected branch of a liberal education." — Spectator, March 16. 
 
 " Mr. Plumptre's lectures are here published in a condensed form, so as to impart 
 as much possible information as can be conveyed in a manner necessarily imperfect. 
 . . . We intend now to give an analysis of what is here advanced, not only because 
 the experiment is an important one in its probable results, but also because of the 
 valuable practical information which this volume conveys." — Clerical Journal, 
 April 9. 
 
 "Mr. Plumptre's lectures are sound and practical, entering not only into the prin- 
 ciples but the practice of elocution ; and they will be found to be of great value by 
 the young clergyman or barrister, and, indeed, by every educated gentleman who is 
 called on, either constantly or at intervals, to speak in public — and who is not? Mr. 
 Plumptre suggests the establishment of a professorship of elocution at Oxford, a step 
 which certainly seems to us a move in the right direction." — The Oriaital Budget, July. 
 
 "The neglect of the art of public speaking has always been a just reproach to this 
 country, when, by the form of government, everyone has an equal chance of reaching 
 the highest honours in the state. This crying neglect, it will be seen by the title of 
 the above work, the author has attempted to correct, and that by a series of lectures, 
 in which the subject is handled in all its branches, and in a most admirable and per- 
 spicuous manner. Mr. Plumptre has literally left nothing to be desired, so clearly and 
 so ably has he conveyed his sentiments and opinions on this question. We have great 
 pleasure in rendering our unqualified praise both of the style and composition of this 
 very useful work." — The Era, August j^.
 
 PRESS NOTICES. 487 
 
 " This treatise embodies the substance of a course of introductory lectures on the 
 ]irinciples and practice of elocution, originally delivered in Oxford. The author is 
 well and favourably known here, as well as in London, where his efforts as a teacher 
 of this most valuable art have been highly appreciated, and attended with gratifying 
 
 success Mr. Plumptre is evidently a master of the art, and we strongly 
 
 recommend his treatise to all to whom the subject upon which it treats can be of the 
 least service." — Oxford University Herald, March 9. 
 
 '■' Mr. Plumptre is thoroughly proficient in the elocutionary art, and his book will be 
 found extremely useful to all who are in any way likely to take part in public life." — 
 Oxford CJirofiicle, Llarch 2. 
 
 " Having so recently expressed our opinion on the merits of Mr. Plumptre's lectures, 
 and on his abilities as an elocutionist, we need not do more on the present occasion 
 than cordially to recommend his book to the notice of our readers." — Oxford Journal, 
 March 2. 
 
 . . "We now turn to Mr. Plumptre's volume of Lectures, and, although its 
 main object is to show the value and necessity of elocution, and to announce that he 
 intends to devote some of his time both in London and Oxford to the instruction of 
 the clergy and others in this important but neglected branch of their education, the 
 following extracts will be read with interest, and will be found to be of much use to 
 our readers." — 1 he English Churchman, September 12. 
 
 " It is difificult to conceive a work in which the art of Elocution is more minutely 
 considered in all its various aspects than in that of Mr. Plumptre, where even the 
 smallest detail receives the same consideration and careful attention as is given to the 
 wider application of the subject." — Medical Examiner, April 1876. 
 
 " It is no exaggeration to say that no more complete Manual on Elocution exists." 
 — Sunday Review, April 1876. 
 
 Most favourable Notices have also appeared in other London daily and weekly 
 Papers, and also in the Continental, Colonial, and Indian Journals.
 
 Receiitly published in one vol. post %vo, 8s. dolh. 
 
 A SUMMARY OF THE PRINCIPLES OF THE 
 LAW OF SIMPLE CONTRACTS. 
 
 Ey CLAUDE C. M. PLUMPTRE, 
 
 OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, ESQ., BARRISTER- AT- L.WV. 
 
 {Middle Temple Coninion Law Scholar, Hilary Teri/i, 1S77.) 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 " In our last volume we had occasion to mention with approbation two works by Mr, 
 Arthur Underbill, ' A Summary of the Law of Torts,' and ' A Concise Manual of the 
 Law relating to Trusts and Trustees ; ' the first of these had reached a second edition, 
 and in its preparation the author of the present work was associated with Mr. Under- 
 bill. Li the preparation of this book Mr. Plumptre has adopted the lines laid down 
 by Mr. Underbill ; by means of short rules and sub-rules he presents a summary of 
 the leading principles relating to the law of simple contracts, with the decisions of 
 the Courts by which they are illustrated. Part L deals with the parties to a simple 
 contract, and treats of those persons exempted from the performance of their con- 
 tracts by reason of incapacity, such as infants, married women, lunatics, drunkards, 
 convicts, and bankrupts. Chapter 4 is devoted 10 contracts by corporations and liy 
 agents, and the following chapter to partners and partnerships generally, 
 
 " 1\\ Part IL we have the constituent parts of a simple contract, the consent of the 
 parties, the consideration, the promise, contracts illegal at common law and by statute, 
 and fraudulent contracts. 
 
 " Part in. gives rules for making a simple contract, and treat.s of contracts within 
 the 4th and 17th sections of the Statute of Frauds ; Statutes of Limitation ; the dis- 
 charge of the obligation imposed by the contract by performance ; by mutual atrree- 
 ment ; by accord and satisfaction ; and by oj^eration of law ; oral evidence and 
 written contracts ; damages ; and contracts made abroad. 
 
 "The book contains upwards of one hundred rules, all ably illustrated by cases, 
 and a very full and well-compiled index facilitates reference. It is more particularly 
 addressed to students, but practitioners of both branches of the legal profession will 
 fmd it a useful and trustworthy guide." — -Jtistiee of the Peace. 
 
 "This book is compiled upon the same principle as the works of Mr. Underbill 
 on Torts and Trusts. The object of the present work will appear from the opening 
 paragraph of the Preface: — 'It may cause some little surprise when it is seen that, 
 notwithstanding the many able works on the Law of Contracts that have been pub- 
 lished, I have ventured to add another volume to that already formidable array of 
 legal literature. The reason why I have done so is, because this branch of the law, 
 however diversely treated, still remains unreduced, whether by means of articles and 
 notes, or rules and sub-rules, or otherwise, into the form of a concise summary or 
 digest ; and in the present work I have hoped, to a certain extent, to supply the want 
 thus existing.' 
 
 "The promise thus held out is amply realised in the body of the work, which will 
 be found of the greatest assistance not only to the student who desires to become 
 acquainted with the law of contracts, but to the practitioner who wishes to note up 
 the most recent decisions." — Law Examination Journal. 
 
 LONDON : BUTTERWORTHS, 7 FLEET STREET.
 
 
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