In the full glory stood. With eager hand
He smote the golden harp-strings, till a flood
Of harmony on the celestial air
Welled forth unceasing: then with a great voice
He sang the "Holy, holy, evermore,
Lord God Almighty!" and the eternal courts
Thrilled with the rapture; and the hierarchies,
Angel and rapt archangel, throbbed and burned
With vehement adoration. Higher yet
Rose the majestic anthem without pause,--
Higher, with rich magnificence of sound,
To its full strength; and still the infinite heavens
Rang with the "Holy, holy, evermore!"
3. God, thou art mighty. At thy footstool bound,
Lie, gazing to thee, Chance and Life and Death.
Nor in the angel-circle flaming round,
Nor in the million worlds that blaze beneath,
Is one that can withstand thy wrath's hot breath.
Woe in thy frown; in thy smile victory.
Hear my last prayer. I ask no mortal wreath:
Let but these eyes my rescued country see;
Then take my spirit, All-Omnipotent, to thee.
For examples of pure tone, see "Reading Club," No. 1, pages
54 and 82; No. 2, page 63; No. 3, pages 11, 49; No. 4, pages
29, 36, 81.
For orotund, No. 1, page 42; No. 2, page 64; No. 3, page 25;
No. 4, page 61.
MOVEMENT.
By different emotions you are prompted to speak words in quick or slow
utterance, as in joy or anger you would be prompted to utter words
quickly; while in majesty, sublimity, awe, you would speak slowly. You
should practise movement, that you may be able to read rapidly and with
perfect articulation, and also to read slowly with proper phrasing. In
quick movement, read as fast as you can with proper articulation,
phrasing, and emphasis. In moderate movement, read as in ordinary
earnest conversation. In slow and very slow movement, phrase well, as in
these the emphatic words have the longest time given to them, the
secondarily emphatic ones less time, and the connecting words the least
time; and it is a great art to proportion them rightly. If you do not do
the latter, you will drawl.
QUICK MOVEMENT.
1. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray:
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
2. But hark! above the beating of the storm
Peals on the startled ear the fire-alarm.
Yon gloomy heaven's aflame with sudden light;
And heart-beats quicken with a strange affright.
From tranquil slumber springs, at duty's call,
The ready friend no danger can appall:
Fierce for the conflict, sturdy, true, and brave,
He hurries forth to battle and to save.
3. After him came, spurring hard,
A gentleman almost forespent with speed,
That stopped by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He asked the way to Chester; and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold:
With that he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head; and, starting so,
He seemed, in running, to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
MODERATE MOVEMENT.
1. Yes, Tom's the best fellow that ever you knew.
Just listen to this:--
When the old mill took fire, and the flooring fell through,
And I with it, helpless there, full in my view
What do you think my eyes saw through the fire,
That crept along, crept along, nigher and nigher,
But Robin, my baby-boy, laughing to see
The shining? He must have come there after me,
Troddled alone from the cottage.
2. Oratory, as it consists in the expression of the countenance, graces
of attitude and motion, and intonation of voice, although it is
altogether superficial and ornamental, will always command admiration;
yet it deserves little veneration. Flashes of wit, coruscations of
imagination, and gay pictures,--what are they? Strict truth, rapid
reason, and pure integrity, are the only essential ingredients in
oratory. I flatter myself that Demosthenes, by his "action, action,
action," meant to express the same opinion.
3. Waken, voice of the land's devotion!
Spirit of freedom, awaken all!
Ring, ye shores, to the song of ocean!
Rivers, answer! and, mountains, call!
The golden day has come:
Let every tongue be dumb
That sounded its malice, or murmured its fears.
She hath won her story;
She wears her glory:
We crown her the land of a hundred years!
SLOW MOVEMENT.
1. Within this sober realm of leafless trees
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air,
Like some tanned reaper in his hour of ease
When all the fields are lying brown and bare.
2. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
3. Father, guide me! Day declines;
Hollow winds are in the pines;
Darkly waves each giant bough
O'er the sky's last crimson glow;
Hushed is now the convent's bell,
Which erewhile, with breezy swell,
From the purple mountains bore
Greeting to the sunset shore;
Now the sailor's vesper-hymn
Dies away.
Father, in the forest dim
Be my stay!
VERY SLOW MOVEMENT.
1. Toll, toll, toll,
Thou bell by billows swung!
And night and day thy warning words
Repeat with mournful tongue!
Toll for the queenly boat
Wrecked on yon rocky shore:
Seaweed is in her palace-halls;
She rides the surge no more.
2. Now o'er the drowsy earth still night prevails;
Calm sleep the mountain-tops and shady vales,
The rugged cliffs and hollow glens.
The wild beasts slumber in their dens,
The cattle on the hill. Deep in the sea
The countless finny race and monster brood
Tranquil repose. Even the busy bee
Forgets her daily toil. The silent wood
No more with noisy form of insect rings;
And all the feathered tribes, by gentle sleep subdued,
Roost in the glade, and hang their drooping wings.
3. My Father, God, lead on!
Calmly I follow where thy guiding hand
Directs my steps. I would not trembling stand,
Though all before the way
Is dark as night: I stay
My soul on thee, and say,
Father, I trust thy love: lead on!
FORCE.
Every emotion which you have you feel more or less intensely, and that
intensity is expressed through the force of the voice. The degree of
force with which you speak will be according to the degree of intensity
of emotion; and even in the gentlest tone you can express as forcibly as
in the loudest. According to your strength of body and mind, and
intensity of feeling, you have been accustomed to express in a strong or
feeble voice. Force needs to be practised to enable you to fill a large
hall with your gentlest tone, and to make very loud tones without
straining of throat. In gentle force, sustain the breath well, as in
fulness and power, observing directions there given; and make your tone
soft and pure. In moderate force, be as energetic as in earnest
conversation. In loud and very loud force, observe directions under
"Fulness and Power."
GENTLE FORCE.
1. A noise as of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
2. O blithe new-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee, and rejoice:
O cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?
Thrice welcome, darling of the spring!
Even yet thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing,
A voice, a mystery.
3. Around this lovely valley rise
The purple hills of Paradise;
Oh! softly on yon banks of haze
Her rosy face the Summer lays;
Becalmed along the azure sky
The argosies of Cloud-land lie,
Whose shores, with many a shining rift,
Far off their pearl-white peaks uplift.
MODERATE FORCE.
1. Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat:
White are his shoulders, and white his crest.
Hear him call, in his merry note,
Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink!
Look, what a nice new coat is mine!
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee!
2. O young men and women! there is no picture of ideal excellence of
manhood and womanhood that I ever draw that seems too high, too
beautiful, for your young hearts. What aspirations there are for the
good, the true, the fair, and the holy! The instinctive affections--how
beautiful they are, with all their purple prophecy of new homes and
generations of immortals that are yet to be! The high instincts of
reason, of conscience, of love, of religion,--how beautiful and grand
they are in the young heart!
3. She was a darling little thing:
I worshipped her outright.
When in my arms she smiling lay;
When on my knees she climbed in play;
When round my neck her arms would cling,
As crooning songs I used to sing;
When on my back she gayly rode,
Then strong beneath its precious load;
When at my side, in summer days,
She gambolled in her childish plays;
When, throughout all the after-years,
I watched with trembling hopes and fears
The infant to a woman grow,--
I worshipped then, as I do now,
My life's delight.
LOUD FORCE.
1. Hark to the bugle's roundelay!
Boot and saddle! Up and away!
Mount and ride as ye ne'er rode before;
Spur till your horses' flanks run gore;
Ride for the sake of human lives;
Ride as ye would were your sisters and wives
Cowering under their scalping-knives.
Boot and saddle! Away, away!
2. News of battle! news of battle!
Hark! 'tis ringing down the street,
And the archways and the pavement
Bear the clang of hurrying feet.
News of battle!--who hath brought it?
News of triumph!--who should bring
Tidings from our noble army,
Greetings from our gallant king!
3. And, lo! from the assembled crowd
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
That to the ocean seemed to say,
"Take her, O bridegroom old and gray!
Take her to thy protecting arms,
With all her youth and all her charms."
VERY LOUD FORCE.
1. "Now, men! now is your time!"
"Make ready! take aim! fire!"
2. Up the hillside, down the glen,
Rouse the sleeping citizen,
Summon out the might of men!
Clang the bells in all your spires!
On the gray hills of your sires
Fling to heaven your signal-fires!
Oh, for God and Duty stand,
Heart to heart, and hand to hand,
Round the old graves of your land!
3. Now for the fight! now for the cannon-peal!
Forward, through blood and toil and cloud and fire!
Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of steel,
The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire!
They shake; like broken waves their squares retire.
On them, hussars! Now give them rein and heel!
Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire!
Earth cries for blood. In thunder on them wheel!
This hour to Europe's fate shall set the triumph seal.
STRESS.
In expressing your emotions, the voice is ejected in various ways;
perhaps in a jerky or trembling or flowing manner, as may be, depending
on the kind of emotion you feel. This is called "Stress;" and you have
learned how, mechanically, to make it. Radical Stress is used when you
try to impress upon others your exact meaning. Practise it with that
thought in your mind. Median Stress is used in appeal to the best
affections, and expresses agreeable emotions. The swell comes on
emphatic words. Terminal Stress is used in expressions of anger,
petulance, impatience, and the like. Thorough Stress is used in calling
to persons at a long distance, but has little place in expression. It is
frequently substituted by bad readers or speakers for Median or Terminal
Stress. Compound Stress is used in strong passion; and being a compound
of Radical and Terminal Stress, and used with circumflex inflections, it
combines the meaning of them all, as sarcasm, irony, &c., mixed with
anger, impatience, doubt, &c. Tremolo Stress is used in excessive
emotion; as joy, anger, sorrow, in excess, would cause the voice to
tremble. You should practise this in order to avoid it, as, when Tremolo
does not proceed from real excess of feeling, it has a very ludicrous
effect. Practise the following exercises by thinking and feeling the
idea and emotion.
RADICAL STRESS.
1. Hark, hark! the lark sings mid the silvery blue:
Behold her flight, proud man, and lowly bow.
2. There is the act of utterance, a condition that exists between you
and myself. I speak, and you hear; but how? The words issue from my
lips, and reach your ears; but what are those words? Volumes of force
communicated to the atmosphere, whose elastic waves carry them to fine
recipients in your own organism. But still I ask, How? How is it that
these volumes of sound should convey articulate meaning, and carry ideas
from my mind into your own?
3. I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by the
dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you are and all
you hope to be,--resist every object of disunion; resist every
encroachment upon your liberties; resist every attempt to fetter your
consciences, or smother your public schools, or extinguish your system
of public instruction.
MEDIAN STRESS.
1. The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof;
The world, and they that dwell therein:
For he hath founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the floods.
2. Oh divine, oh delightful legacy of a spotless reputation! Rich is the
inheritance it leaves; pious the example it testifies; pure, precious,
and imperishable the hope which it inspires. Can there be conceived a
more atrocious injury than to filch from its possessor this inestimable
benefit; to rob society of its charm, and solitude of its solace; not
only to outlaw life, but to attaint death, converting the very grave,
the refuge of the sufferer, into the gate of infamy and of shame?
3. How sleep the brave who sink to rest
With all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
It there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than blooming Fancy ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
There Honor walks, a pilgrim gray,
To deck the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall a while repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there.
TERMINAL STRESS.
1. I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak:
I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more:
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors.
2. Nor sleep nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane nor capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice,
Embarkments all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it
At home upon my brother's guard,--even there,
Against the hospitable cannon, would I
Wash my fierce hand in his heart.
3. A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Delivered strongly through my fixèd teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave:
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
My hair be fixed on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban;
And even now my burdened heart would break,
Should I not curse them.
THOROUGH STRESS.
1. "Ho, Starbuck and Pickney and Tenterden!
Run for your shallops, gather your men,
Scatter your boats on the lower bay!"
2. "Run! run for your lives, high up on the land!
Away, men and children! up quick, and be gone!
The water's broke loose! it is chasing me on!"
3. They strike! Hurrah! the fort has surrendered!
Shout, shout, my warrior-boy,
And wave your cap, and clap your hands for joy!
Cheer answer cheer, and bear the cheer about.
Hurrah, hurrah, for the fiery fort is ours!
"Victory, victory, victory!"
COMPOUND STRESS.
1. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward,
Thou little valiant great in villany!
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs.
2. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions,
senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same
weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed
and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you
prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you
poison us, do we not die? and, if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
3. Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?
Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds,
Rage like an angry boar, chafèd with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitchèd battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpet's clang?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
That gives not half so great a blow to the ear
As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?
TREMOLO STRESS.
1. There's nothing in this world can make me joy:
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
2. O men with sisters dear!
O men with mothers and wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives.
Stitch, stitch, stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt;
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A shroud as well as a shirt.
3. Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form:
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
TRANSITION.
The changes from one kind of force to another, or one pitch to another,
or one movement to another, or one quality to another, are many in
expressive reading; and these changes are called "Transition." To
practise it is very useful in breaking up monotony of voice, and adding
expressiveness to it. In practice of these short extracts, you are
showing the benefit of practice in quality, pitch, movement, and force.
Put yourself into the thought and feeling, and vary the voice as that,
guided by common sense, may suggest to you.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, pp. 45, 54; No. 2, pp. 5, 101;
No. 3, pp. 9, 70, 87; No. 4, pp. 26, 42, 75.
1. "Make way for liberty!" he cried,--
Made way for liberty, and died!
2. "Peace be unto thee, father," Tauler said:
"God give thee a good day!" The old man raised
Slowly his calm blue eyes: "I thank thee, son;
But all my days are good, and none are ill."
3. "They come, they come! the pale-face come!"
The chieftain shouted where he stood,
Sharp watching at the margin wood,
And gave the war-whoop's treble yell,
That like a knell on fair hearts fell
Far watching from their rocky home.
4. "Not yet, not yet: steady, steady!"
On came the foe in even line,
Nearer and nearer, to thrice paces nine.
We looked into their eyes. "Ready!"
A sheet of flame, a roll of death!
They fell by scores: we held our breath:
Then nearer still they came.
Another sheet of flame,
And brave men fled who never fled before.
5. Did ye not hear it?--No: 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined!
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
But hark!--that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm, arm! it is--it is--the cannon's opening roar!
6. "Together!" shouts Niagara his thunder-toned decree;
"Together!" echo back the waves upon the Mexic Sea;
"Together!" sing the sylvan hills where old Atlantic roars;
"Together!" boom the breakers on the wild Pacific shores;
"Together!" cry the people. And "together" it shall be,
An everlasting charter-bond forever for the free!
Of liberty the signet-seal, the one eternal sign,
Be those united emblems,--the Palmetto and the Pine.
7. "Ho, sailor of the sea!
How's my boy,--my boy?"
"What's your boy's name, good wife?
And in what good ship sailed he?"
"My boy John,--
He that went to sea:
What care I for the ship, sailor?
My boy's my boy to me."
8. Out burst all with one accord:
"This is Paradise for Hell!
Let France, let France's king,
Thank the man that did the thing!"
What a shout! and all one word,--
"Hervé Riel!"
As he stepped in front once more,
Not a symptom of surprise
In the frank blue Breton eyes:
Just the same man as before.
9. He called his child,--no voice replied;
He searched, with terror wild:
Blood, blood, he found on every side,
But nowhere found his child.
"Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured,"
The frantic father cried;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword
He plunged in Gelert's side.
His suppliant, as to earth he fell,
No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell
Passed heavy o'er his heart.
10. While the trumpets bray, and the cymbals ring,
"Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king!"
Now what cometh? Look, look! Without menace or call,
Who writes with the lightning's bright hand on the wall?
What pierceth the king like the point of a dart?
What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart?
"Chaldæans, magicians! the letters expound."
They are read; and Belshazzar is dead on the ground!
11. _Sir P._--'Slife, madam! I say, had you any of these
little elegant expenses when you married me?
_Lady T._--Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out
of the fashion?
_Sir P._--The fashion, indeed! What had you to do
with the fashion before you married me?
_Lady T._--For my part, I should think you would like
to have your wife thought a woman of taste.
_Sir P._--Ay, there again! Taste! Zounds, madam!
you had no taste when you married me.
_Lady T._--That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter; and,
after having married you, I should never pretend to taste
again, I allow.
12. "And what the meed?" at length Tell asked.
"Bold fool! when slaves like thee are tasked,
It is my will;
But that thine eye may keener be,
And nerved to such nice archery,
If thou succeed'st, thou goest free.
What! pause ye still?
Give him a bow and arrow there:
One shaft,--but one." Madness, despair,
And tortured love,
One moment swept the Switzer's face;
Then passed away each stormy trace,
And high resolve reigned like a grace
Caught from above.
13. _Bass._--Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
_Shy._--To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there.
_Gra._--Can no prayers pierce thee?
_Shy._--No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
_Gra._--Oh, be thou damned, inexorable dog,
And for thy life let justice be accused!
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith,
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
Governed a wolf, who, hanged for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallowed dam,
Infused itself in thee; for thy desires
Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous.
_Shy._--Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud.
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
To cureless ruin.--I stand here for law.
14. _Ham._--Now, mother, what's the matter?
_Queen._--Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended.
_Ham._--Mother, you have my father much offended.
_Queen._--Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue.
_Ham._--Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue.
_Queen._--Why, how now, Hamlet?
_Ham._--What's the matter now?
_Queen._--Have you forgot me?
_Ham._--No, by the rood, not so:
You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife;
And--would it were not so!--you are my mother.
_Queen._--Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak.
_Ham._--Come, come, and sit you down: you shall not budge;
You go not, till I set you up a glass
Where you may see the inmost part of you.
MODULATION.
"'Tis not enough the voice be loud and clear:
'Tis MODULATION that must charm the ear."
A good reader or speaker will vary his or her voice in the elements of
emotional expression (that is, pitch, quality, movement, stress, force),
on words, phrases, and sentences, in such a manner that the listeners
get a suggestion of the meaning of a word by the sound of it. For
instance, the words _bright_, _glad_, _joyful_, _dull_, _sad_, _weak_,
may be pronounced in such a manner as to suggest by the quality of voice
used their meaning; and, in the same manner, phrases and whole sentences
may have variation in voice so as to suggest their meaning. This is
modulation.
To modulate well, first, you must use your imagination, to form a
perfect picture in your own mind of what you wish to describe, just as
you would if you were an artist, and were intending to paint an ideal
picture; and, in reality, you are an artist, for you paint with words
and tones. Secondly, you should understand the exact meaning of each
word, and, when you speak it, make your manner of speaking it suggest
its meaning. Suppose you were to read Tennyson's "Song of the Brook." We
will analyze as near as words may the manner of reading each verse. Read
the whole song, and form the picture in imagination of the flow of the
water, the scenery along its course, the roughness or smoothness of the
water as described, the slowness or rapidity of its flow at different
points, how large or small the brook is, making the picture as perfect
as if you would paint upon canvas the whole scene.
THE BROOK.
1. I come from haunts of coot and hern;
2. I make a sudden sally,
3. And sparkle out among the fern
4. To bicker down a valley.
5. By thirty hills I hurry down,
6. Or slip between the ridges;
7. By twenty thorps, a little town,
8. And half a hundred bridges.
9. Till last by Philip's farm I flow
10. To join the brimming river;
11. For men may come, and men may go,
12. But I go on forever.
13. I chatter over stony ways
14. In little sharps and trebles;
15. I bubble into eddying bays;
16. I babble on the pebbles.
17. With many a curve my banks I fret,
18. By many a field and fallow,
19. And many a fairy foreland set
20. With willow-weed and mallow.
21. I chatter, chatter, as I flow
22. To join the brimming river;
23. For men may come, and men may go,
24. But I go on forever.
25. I wind about, and in and out,
26. With here a blossom sailing,
27. And here and there a lusty trout,
28. And here and there a grayling,
29. And here and there a foamy flake
30. Upon me as I travel;
31. With many a silvery waterbreak
32. Above the golden gravel;
33. And draw them all along, and flow,
34. To join the brimming river;
35. For men may come, and men may go,
36. But I go on forever.
37. I steal by lawns and grassy plots;
38. I slide by hazel covers;
39. I move the sweet forget-me-nots
40. That grow for happy lovers.
41. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
42. Among my skimming swallows;
43. I make the netted sunbeams dance
44. Against my sandy shallows.
45. I murmur under moon and stars
46. In brambly wildernesses;
47. I linger by my shingly bars;
48. I loiter round my cresses;
49. And out again I curve and flow
50. To join the brimming river;
51. For men may come, and men may go,
52. But I go on forever.
As a whole, this piece requires for quality of voice the _pure tone_;
force, _gentle_; movement, _moderate_; pitch, _middle_; stress,
_median_. The variations in modulation must be from these, and will be
mostly variations in quality, movement, and pitch.
Lines 2 to 6. Movement, quick; pitch, high; with quality changing on
words _sudden_, _sparkle_, _bicker_, _hurry_, _slip_, in such a way as
to suggest the meaning of the word.
Lines 7 to 12. Movement, moderate; pitch, middle.
Lines 13 to 16. Movement, quick; pitch, high; the words _chatter_,
_stony_, _sharps_, _trebles_, _bubble_, _babble_, spoken with suggestion
of their meaning.
Lines 17 to 20. Movement, moderate; pitch, middle.
Lines 21 to 24. Movement, quick; pitch, high; make quality suggest on
_chatter_, _brimming_.
Lines 25 to 28. Movement, slow; pitch, middle; change to suggestive
quality on _wind_, _blossom_, _lusty_.
Lines 29 to 36. Movement, moderate; pitch, middle; suggestive quality on
_foamy_, _silvery_, _golden_, _brimming_.
Lines 37 to 40. Movement, slow; pitch, low; suggestive quality on
_steal_, _slide_, _move_, _happy_.
Lines 41, 42. Movement, pitch, quality, all varied on words _slip_,
_slide_, _gloom_, _glance_.
Lines 43, 44. Movement, quick; pitch, high; suggestive quality on
_dance_, _shallows_.
Lines 45 to 48. Movement, slow; pitch, low; quality, very slightly
aspirate; suggestive quality on _murmur_, _linger_, _loiter_.
Lines 49 to 52. Movement, moderate; pitch, middle; suggestive quality on
_brimming_.
This analysis is very imperfect, as it is impossible in words to explain
it. What modulation requires is, as a popular author says, "genius and
sense" on your part, and you will be enabled to do as here is
imperfectly suggested. You will do well to select some pieces, and
analyze them, as here suggested. In Longfellow's launch of the ship, in
his poem "Building of the Ship," picture the whole scene in imagination,
the size and kind of ship, the number of the crowd, &c.
The following pieces are marked so that you may get a general idea of
what is required for emotional expression in each. No marking can give
you particulars of what is necessary, as the modulation of voice or
variety in emotional expression--the light and shadow in the coloring of
your word-picture--must depend upon your artistic "sense and genius."
Imagine your picture, understand the meaning of every word and suggest
its meaning in tone, concentrate yourself in the thought and feeling of
the piece, and let your voice be governed by that, and you will not go
far wrong if you have faithfully practised what has been recommended in
the previous pages of this book.
1. Pure quality, gentle force, slow movement, middle pitch, median
stress.
Those evening bells, those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime!
Those joyous hours are passed away;
And many a heart that then was gay
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.
And so 'twill be when I am gone:
That tuneful peal will still ring on;
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.
2. Orotund quality, with fulness and power, varying middle and low
pitch, moderate and quick movement, median and radical stress mixed.
With storm-daring pinion and sun-gazing eye
The gray forest eagle is king of the sky.
From the crag-grasping fir-top where morn hangs its wreath,
He views the mad waters white writhing beneath.
A fitful red glaring, a rumbling jar,
Proclaim the storm-demon still raging afar:
The black cloud strides upward, the lightning more red,
And the roll of the thunder more deep and more dread;
A thick pall of darkness is cast o'er the air;
And on bounds the blast with a howl from its lair.
The lightning darts zig-zag and forked through the gloom;
And the bolt launches o'er with crash, rattle, and boom:
The gray forest eagle--where, where has he sped?
Does he shrink to his eyrie, or shiver with dread?
Does the glare blind his eye? Has the terrible blast
On the wing of the sky-king a fear-fetter cast?
No, no! the brave eagle, he thinks not of fright:
The wrath of the tempest but rouses delight.
To the flash of the lightning his eye casts a gleam;
To the shriek of the wild blast he echoes his scream;
And with front like a warrior that speeds to the fray,
And a clapping of pinions, he's up and away.
Away--oh! away--soars the fearless and free;
What recks he the skies' strife? its monarch is he!
The lightning darts round him, undaunted his sight;
The blast sweeps against him, unwavered his flight:
High upward, still upward, he wheels, till his form
Is lost in the black scowling gloom of the storm.
3. Pure to orotund quality, gentle to moderate force, moderate movement,
middle pitch, radical and median stress mixed. This contains many words
that can be pronounced with a quality or variation suggesting their
meaning.
* * * * *
Rhetoric as taught in our seminaries and by elocutionists is one thing:
genuine, heart-thrilling, soul-stirring eloquence is a very different
thing. The one is like the rose in wax, without odor; the other like the
rose on its native bush, perfuming the atmosphere with the rich odors
distilled from the dew of heaven.
The one is the finely-finished statue of a Cicero or Demosthenes, more
perfect in its lineaments than the original, pleasing the eye, and
enrapturing the imagination: the other is the living man, animated by
intellectual power, rousing the deepest feelings of every heart, and
electrifying every soul as with vivid lightning. The one is a picture of
the passions all on fire: the other is the real conflagration, pouring
out a volume of words that burn like liquid flames bursting from the
crater of a volcano.
The one attracts the admiring gaze and tickles the fancy of an audience:
the other sounds an alarm that vibrates through the tingling ears to the
soul, and drives back the rushing blood upon the aching heart. The one
falls upon the multitude like April showers glittering in the sunbeams,
animating, and bringing nature into mellow life: the other rouses the
same mass to deeds of noble daring, and imparts to it the terrific force
of an avalanche.
The one moves the cerebral foliage in waves of recumbent beauty like a
gentle wind passing over a prairie of tall grass and flowers: the other
strikes a blow that resounds through the wilderness of mind like rolling
thunder through a forest of oaks. The one fails when strong commotions
and angry elements agitate the public peace: the other can ride upon the
whirlwind, direct the tornado, and rule the storm.
* * * * *
4. Aspirated orotund quality, moderate force, very slow movement, very
low pitch, median stress.
Tread softly, bow the head, in reverent silence bow:
No passing bell doth toll, yet an immortal soul
Is passing now.
Stranger, however great, with lowly reverence bow:
There's one in that poor shed, one by that paltry bed,
Greater than thou.
Beneath that beggar's roof, lo! Death doth keep his state.
Enter, no crowds attend; enter, no guards defend
This palace-gate.
That pavement damp and cold no smiling courtiers tread:
One silent woman stands, lifting with meagre hands
A dying head.
No mingling voices sound,--an infant wail alone:
A sob suppressed, again that short deep gasp, and then
The parting groan.
Oh change! oh wondrous change! burst are the prison-bars:
This moment there, so low, so agonized; and now
Beyond the stars!
Oh change, stupendous change! there lies the soulless clod:
The sun eternal breaks, the new immortal wakes,--
Wakes with his God!
5. Pure quality, moderate force, quick movement, high pitch, radical
stress, suggestive quality on many words.
The Wind one morning sprang up from sleep,
Saying, "Now for a frolic, now for a leap,
Now for a mad-cap galloping chase:
I'll make a commotion in every place!"
So it swept with a bustle right through a great town,
Creaking the signs, and scattering down
Shutters, and whisking with merciless squalls
Old women's bonnets and gingerbread-stalls:
There never was heard a much lustier shout
As the apples and oranges tumbled about;
And the urchins, that stand with their thievish eyes
Forever on watch, ran off each with a prize.
Then away to the field it went blustering and humming,
And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming:
It plucked by their tails the grave matronly cows,
And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows;
Till, offended at such a familiar salute,
They all turned their backs, and stood silently mute.
So on it went capering, and playing its pranks;
Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks;
Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray,
Or the traveller grave on the king's highway.
It was not too nice to hustle the bags
Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags:
'Twas so bold, that it feared not to play its joke
With the doctor's wig and the gentleman's cloak.
Through the forest it roared, and cried gayly, "Now,
You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"
And it made them bow without more ado,
And cracked their great branches through and through.
Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm,
Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm,
And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm.
There were dames with their kerchiefs tied over their caps
To see if their poultry were free from mishaps.
The turkeys they gobbled; the geese screamed aloud;
And the hens crept to roost in a terrified crowd:
There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on,
Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone.
But the wind had passed on, and had met in a lane
With a school-boy who panted and struggled in vain;
For it tossed him and twirled him, then passed, and he stood
With his hat in a pool, and his shoe in the mud.
STYLE.
What you have to say, where you have to say it, when you have to say it,
why you have to say it, and to whom you have to say it,--on these depend
how you shall say it, or your style. Conversational style is as you
would talk in earnest conversation with a friend; Narrative, as you
would tell an anecdote or story to a company of friends; Descriptive, as
you would describe what you had actually seen; Didactic, as you would
state earnestly, decisively, but pleasantly, your knowledge or opinions
to others; Public Address, which generally includes the Didactic,
Narrative, and Descriptive, is spoken with design to move, to persuade,
and instruct, particularly the latter; Declamatory is Public Address
magnified in expression, exhibiting more emotion, both in language, and
in quality, and fulness of voice; the Emotional or Dramatic, in which
the emotions and passions are strongly expressed. In practising these
different styles, the quality, pitch, force, and time must be regulated
by your thought and feeling, guided, as in transition, by common sense,
which will enable you to tell natural from unnatural expression.
Practise these few exercises under each head; but you will do better to
practise pieces such as are referred to under each head in the "Reading
Club."
CONVERSATIONAL.
1. "And how's my boy, Betty?" asked Mrs. Boffin, sitting down beside
her.
"He's bad; he's bad!" said Betty. "I begin to be afeerd he'll not be
yours any more than mine. All others belonging to him have gone to the
Power and the Glory; and I have a mind that they're drawing him to them,
leading him away."
"No, no, no!" said Mrs. Boffin.
"I don't know why else he clinches his little hand, as if it had hold of
a finger that I can't see; look at it!" said Betty, opening the wrappers
in which the flushed child lay, and showing his small right hand lying
closed upon his breast. "It's always so. It don't mind me."
2. _Helen._--What's that you read?
_Modus._--Latin, sweet cousin.
_Hel._--'Tis a naughty tongue,
I fear, and teaches men to lie.
_Modus._--To lie!
_Hel._--You study it. You call your cousin sweet,
And treat her as you would a crab. As sour
'Twould seem you think her: so you covet her!
Why, how the monster stares, and looks about!
You construe Latin, and can't construe that!
_Modus._--I never studied women.
_Hel._--No, nor men;
Else would you better know their ways, nor read
In presence of a lady.
3. "Now," said Wardle, "what say you to an hour on the ice? We shall
have plenty of time."
"Capital!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"Prime!" ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.
"Ye--yes; oh, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I am rather out of
practice."
"Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle!" said Arabella. "I like to see it so much!"
"Oh, it is so graceful!" said another young lady.
A third young lady said it was elegant; and a fourth expressed her
opinion that it was "swan-like."
"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle, reddening; "but I
have no skates."
This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had got a couple of pair,
and the fat boy announced that there were half a dozen more down stairs;
whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely
uncomfortable.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, p. 56; No. 2, p. 49; No. 3, pp.
5, 38; No. 4, pp. 94, 67.
NARRATIVE.
1. Tauler the preacher walked, one autumn-day,
Without the walls of Strasburg, by the Rhine,
Pondering the solemn miracle of life;
As one who, wandering in a starless night,
Feels momently the jar of unseen waves,
And hears the thunder of an unknown sea
Breaking along an unimagined shore.
2. The illustrious Spinola, upon hearing of the death of a friend,
inquired of what disease he died. "Of having nothing to do," said the
person who mentioned it. "Enough," said Spinola, "to kill a general."
Not only the want of employment, but the want of care, often increases
as well as brings on this disease.
3. Sir Isaac Newton was once examining a new and very fine globe, when a
gentleman came into his study who did not believe in a God, but declared
the world we live in came by chance. He was much pleased with the
handsome globe, and asked, "Who made it?"--"Nobody," answered Sir Isaac:
"it happened there." The gentleman looked up in amazement; but he soon
understood what it meant.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, pp. 23, 73; No. 2, pp. 37, 44;
No. 3, pp. 9, 99; No. 4, pp. 26, 49, 89.
DESCRIPTIVE.
1. The morn awakes, like brooding dove,
With outstretched wings of gray:
Thin, feathery clouds close in above,
And build a sober day.
No motion in the deeps of air,
No trembling in the leaves;
A still contentment everywhere,
That neither laughs nor grieves.
A shadowy veil of silvery sheen
Bedims the ocean's hue,
Save where the boat has torn between
A track of shining blue.
Dream on, dream on, O dreamy day!
The very clouds are dreams:
That cloud is dreaming far away,
And is not where it seems.
2. The broad moon lingers on the summit of Mount Olivet; but its beam
has long left the garden of Gethsemane, and the tomb of Absalom, the
waters of Kedron, and the dark abyss of Jehoshaphat. Full falls its
splendor, however, on the opposite city, vivid and defined in its silver
blaze. A lofty wall, with turrets and towers and frequent gates,
undulates with the unequal ground which it covers, as it encircles the
lost capital of Jehovah. It is a city of hills, far more famous than
those of Rome; for all Europe has heard of Sion and of Calvary.
3. It was a fine autumnal day: the sky was clear and serene, and Nature
wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea
of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow; while
some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into
brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild
ducks began to make their appearance high in the air; the bark of the
squirrel might be heard from the groves of beech and hickory nuts, and
the pensive whistle of the quail at intervals from the neighboring
stubble-field.
See "Reading Club," No. 2, pp. 15, 39; No. 3, pp. 28, 97;
No. 4, pp. 19, 36, 92.
DIDACTIC.
1. To teach--what is it but to learn
Each day some lesson fair or deep,
The while our hearts toward others yearn,--
The hearts that wake toward those that sleep?
To learn--what is it but to teach
By aspect, manner, silence, word,
The while we far and farther reach
Within thy treasures, O our Lord?
Then who but is a learner aye?
And who but teaches, well or ill?
Receiving, giving, day by day,--
So grows the tree, so flows the rill.
2. All professions should be liberal; and there should be less pride
felt in peculiarity of employment, and more in excellence of
achievement. And yet more: in each several profession no master should
be too proud to do its hardest work. The painter should grind his own
colors; the architect work in the mason's yard with his men; the
master-manufacturer be himself a more skilful operative than any man in
his mills; and the distinction between one man and another be only in
experience and skill, and the authority and wealth which these must
naturally and justly obtain.
3. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,
This is no flattery: these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, p. 82; No. 2, pp. 88, 76; No. 3,
p. 59.
PUBLIC ADDRESS.
1. Let not, then, the young man sit with folded hands, calling on
Hercules. Thine own arm is the demigod: it was given thee to help
thyself. Go forth into the world trustful, but fearless. Exalt thine
adopted calling or profession. Look on labor as honorable, and dignify
the task before thee, whether it be in the study, office, counting-room,
work-shop, or furrowed field. There is an equality in all, and the
resolute will and pure heart may ennoble either.
2. While you are gazing on that sun which is plunging into the vault of
the west, another observer admires him emerging from the gilded gates of
the east. By what inconceivable power does that agèd star, which is
sinking fatigued and burning in the shades of the evening, re-appear at
the same instant fresh and humid with the rosy dew of the morning? At
every hour of the day the glorious orb is at once rising, resplendent as
noonday, and setting in the west; or rather our senses deceive us, and
there is, properly speaking, no east or west, no north or south, in the
world.
3. In all natural and spiritual transactions, so far as they come within
the sphere of human agency, there are three distinct elements: there is
an element of endeavor, of mystery, and of result; in other words, there
is something for man to do, there is something beyond his knowledge and
control, there is something achieved by the co-operation of these two.
Man sows the seed, he reaps the harvest; but between these two points
occurs the middle condition of mystery. He casts the seed into the
ground; he sleeps and rises night and day; but the seed springs and
grows up, he knows not how: yet, when the fruit is ripe, immediately he
putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come. That is all he knows
about it. There is something for him to do, something for him to
receive; but between the doing and receiving there is a mystery.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, p. 83; No. 2, pp. 77, 79; No. 3,
pp. 74, 91; No. 4, pp. 35, 53.
DECLAMATORY.
1. You speak like a boy,--like a boy who thinks the old gnarled oak can
be twisted as easily as the young sapling. Can I forget that I have been
branded as an outlaw, stigmatized as a traitor, a price set on my head
as if I had been a wolf, my family treated as the dam and cubs of the
hill-fox, whom all may torment, vilify, degrade, and insult; the very
name which came to me from a long and noble line of martial ancestors
denounced, as if it were a spell to conjure up the devil with?
2. I have been accused of ambition in presenting this
measure,--inordinate ambition. If I had thought of myself only, I should
have never brought it forward. I know well the perils to which I expose
myself,--the risk of alienating faithful and valued friends, with but
little prospect of making new ones (if any new ones could compensate for
the loss of those we have long tried and loved), and the honest
misconception both of friends and foes. Ambition!--yes, I have ambition;
but it is the ambition of being the humble instrument in the hands of
Providence to reconcile a divided people, once more to revive concord
and harmony in a distracted land; the pleasing ambition of contemplating
the glorious spectacle of a free, united, prosperous, and fraternal
people.
3. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead?
Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his
gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent
over the field of honor, with the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the
fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage
to the shades of Vernon, is Washington indeed shut up in that cold and
narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die.
The hand that traced the charter of Independence is indeed motionless;
the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed: but the lofty spirits
that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such
men, "make it life to live,"--these cannot expire.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, pp. 66, 75; No. 3, pp. 50, 68,
84; No. 4, pp. 40, 55.
DRAMATIC OR EMOTIONAL.
1. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye!
I feel my heart new opened. Oh, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspéct of princes and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
2. What would you have, you curs!
That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you;
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese. You are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hailstone in the sun.
3. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
See "Reading Club," No. 1, p. 8; No. 2, p. 28; No. 3, p. 60;
No. 4, p. 14.
PART FOUR.
HINTS ON ELOCUTION.
[Sidenote: _Practice._] If you have practised and studied the previous
pages of this book, you will have gained an elementary knowledge of the
science of elocution. Carlyle says, "The grand result of schooling is a
mind with just vision to discern, with free force to do: the grand
school-master is Practice." To make an artist of yourself in elocution
requires much practice and much patience. As Longfellow says, "Art is
long, and time is fleeting;" and the art of elocution is no exception to
that truth.
[Sidenote: _Health._] You must have health, strength, and elasticity of
body; and, to get and keep these, obey the laws of life as to exercise,
rest, pure air, good food, and temperance in all things. Avoid all
stimulants, or tobacco in any form. Practise any gymnastics that shall
help to make you strong and sprightly, but especially the physical
gymnastics here given, as they are designed to benefit the muscles used
in speaking.
[Sidenote: _Position._] When you stand to speak, the first thing that
strikes your audience is the position you assume. Therefore be careful
to assume and keep the speaker's position until some other position is
needed for expression; and return to the speaker's position, as the one
which is an active position, but gives the idea of repose and
confidence, without that disagreeable self-consciousness which to an
audience is disgusting. While you are speaking, avoid all swaying or
motion of body, unless it means something.
[Sidenote: _Bowing._] Do not bow too quickly, but do it with dignity,
and respect to your audience, first with a general, quick glance of the
eye about you. Bend the body at the hip-joints; let the back bend a
little, and the head more than the body. Do not bow too low, nor be
stiff in your movements.
[Sidenote: _Holding book._] How to hold the book has been shown in Part
One; and you will find that to be the position that strikes the audience
most favorably, and gives an impression of ease, which goes a great way
towards making the audience enjoy your reading.
[Sidenote: _Articulation._] When you speak, it is for the purpose of
making yourself understood. And to do this you must articulate
perfectly; that is, give a clear and correct utterance every element in
a word. [Sidenote: _Pronunciation._] You must also pronounce
properly,--that is, accent the proper syllable in a word; and, to find
out what the proper syllable is, refer to Webster's or Worcester's large
Dictionary (Worcester being preferable), and find out for yourself.
[Sidenote: _Emphasis._] You must also give the right phrasing,
subordinating all other phrases to the principal one, and remembering
that the emphatic word of your sentence is the emphatic word of the
important phrase. The emphatic word is usually brought out by inflection
and added force; but it may be made emphatic by particular stress, or a
pause before it or after it, or both before and after, or by a change of
quality. Your own common sense will tell you when these may be proper
and effective and natural.
[Sidenote: _Fulness and power._] You must also make your audience hear
you; and this requires, not a loud, high-pitched voice, but--unless
dramatic expression requires otherwise--your middle or conversational
pitch, with fulness of voice, that shall give you power. Your own mind
will regulate this for you, if you will direct your attention to the
persons in the back part of the hall, and speak in middle pitch, so that
they may hear. [Sidenote: _Avoid high pitch._] Many speakers make the
mistake of using a high pitch, and render their speech very ineffective
by so doing. You will call to mind the fact, that, when we say we cannot
hear a speaker, it is not that we do not hear the sound of his voice,
but that we cannot understand the words. Bearing this in mind, you will
see that perfect articulation is what is wanted, and that fulness added
to your voice in middle pitch will make the voice reach, will require
less effort, and will produce better effect.
[Sidenote: _Feeling._] Having made your audience understand and hear,
you must then make them feel. To do this as public reader, actor,
clergyman, lawyer, teacher, orator, lecturer, you must yourself feel
what you have to say, and, forgetting every thing else in your subject,
concentrate your whole being in your utterance and action. Then you will
be effective, and you will carry your audience with you. And you will
fail in proportion as you fail to lose your own personality in your
subject. "The heart giveth grace unto every art;" and of no art is this
more true than of elocution. You may have all the graces of elocution
which practice will give you; yet, in the effect these will produce,--if
the will, acting alone, not being guided by mind and heart, prompts the
utterance,--something will be lacking, of which learned and unlearned
alike will be conscious.
[Sidenote: _Be natural._] "One touch of nature makes the whole world
kin," and cultivated and uncultivated alike will feel it; and this
"touch of nature" you will show if you enter into what you have to say
with mind, heart, and soul. Your voice will vary in all the elements of
emotional expression, and you will be natural.
[Sidenote: _Mechanical speaking._] When speaking in public, do not try
to remember the first rule of elocution. Leave it all behind you when
you come before the audience. Speak from your thought and feeling, and
be sure you are thoroughly familiar with what you have to say. Be sure
you understand it yourself before you try to make others understand.
[Sidenote: _Words without meaning._] You can read words, calling them
off mechanically, or you can speak words from memory very mechanically,
and not have a clear idea of the meaning the words convey while you
speak them. But do not do this. Always think the thought, as you read or
speak, in the same manner as you would if speaking extempore. You can
express your thought clearly by thinking it as you speak; but at the
same time there may be no expression of emotion. [Sidenote: _Thought
without feeling._] You may have thought without feeling; but you must
impress your thought by feeling. When you read, your mind gets the
thought through the words, and from that thought comes feeling; but,
when you speak your own thoughts, the feeling creates the thought. In
reading, you think, and then feel; but, in speaking your thought, you
feel, and then think. When you read, then, or speak from memory, if you
will let thought create feeling before you speak, you will avoid
mechanical reading and speaking, and be effective in conveying the
thought and feeling both together.
[Sidenote: _Feeling without thought._] You can convey emotion without a
definite thought; and this is as bad as either words without meaning, or
thought without feeling. This arousing the feelings without guiding them
by definite thought is the province of the art of music. Elocution is
superior to music for the reason that it guides both thought and
feeling, for certainly it is better that mind and feeling should work
together, than either alone.
[Sidenote: _Emotion in song or speech._] The elements of emotional
expression are alike in speech and song. In each you have quality, time,
force, and pitch. The variation of these elements makes expression of
feeling; and each sound you make contains all these elements. It has a
certain quality; it has more or less of force; it is relatively high or
low in pitch, it takes a longer or shorter time. [Sidenote: _Variety in
expression._] The more you vary in the elements of emotional expression,
the better the effect, provided the variation is caused by the variation
of your feeling, and not by any artificiality, or seeming to express
what you do not feel.
[Sidenote: _Quality. Force. Pitch. Time._] The quality of voice,
its purity or harshness, its aspiration, &c., will vary with the kind of
feeling; the degree of force will vary according to the intensity of
feeling; the pitch will be according to what we may call the height or
depth of your feeling; the movement, or time, will be according as the
emotion is quick or slow. After having cultivated the voice well in
these elements of emotional expression, your own common sense ought to
be your best guide in the application of them to reading and speaking.
You, for the time being, should be the author of what you read. "Put
yourself in his place," and express as you feel that he felt while
writing it.
[Sidenote: _Feeling without expression._] It is possible for you to feel
intense emotion, and not be capable of properly expressing it, so as to
make others feel it. You may not have had training that will give you
command of sound and motion, those channels of expression through which
the body is made to obey mind and soul, and express their thought and
feeling. [Sidenote: _No expression without feeling._] It is impossible
to express, even with the best cultivation, what, at the moment of
utterance, you do not feel: therefore you must sink your own personality
in your subject; and, according to your conception, so will you
express.
[Sidenote: _Reserve power._] All apparent effort must be avoided; that
is, in the expression of the strongest passion or emotion, you must not
give the audience the slightest indication of want of power. You will
give that impression if you try to express more than you actually feel.
In emotional expression it must seem as if it overflowed because of
excess, and you could hardly control it; but you must never lose control
of it. This control will give the audience the impression that you feel
more than you express, and is what is called reserved power. If--your
well of emotion not being overflowingly full--you use a force-pump, or,
in other words, your will-power, to make it overflow, you will fail in
expression.
[Sidenote: _How to get reserve power._] How are you to get this, you
ask. By study and long practice. As you plainly see, it involves a
perfect command over the feelings; and "he that ruleth his own spirit is
greater than he that taketh a city." Conquer yourself. All art,
elocution included, is but a means of expression for man's thoughts and
feelings; and, if you have no thought or feeling to express, art is
useless to you.
[Sidenote: _Breathing._] Do not let your audience be reminded that you
breathe at all. Take breath quietly through nostrils or mouth, or both.
Form the habit of keeping the chest, while speaking, active, as
recommended in all vocal exercises; and the breath will flow in
unobstructed whenever needed. Breathe as nearly as possible as you would
if you were not speaking, that is, do not interfere with right action of
the lungs. The instant you feel a want of breath, take it: if you do
not, you will injure your lungs; and what you say, feeling that want of
breath, will lack power. The more breath you have, so that it does not
feel uncomfortable and can be well controlled, the more power you will
have: therefore practise breathing until you breathe rightly and easily.
[Sidenote: _Throat trouble._] If your general health is good, your
throat will be well; and therefore pay attention to the general health
of the whole body, and the throat will take care of itself. If, when you
come before an audience, your throat and mouth are dry, use only clear,
cold water, not ice-water: that is too cold. Avoid candy or
throat-lozenges; for the use of either of these is worse than if you
used nothing at all. If you have a cold or sore throat, you had better
not use your voice; but, if you must use it, keep it clear by clear
water. A healthy throat will not need even water: it will moisten itself
after a little use, if at first it is dry.
[Sidenote: _Pausing._] Deliberate movement and frequent pausing are very
expressive in some cases. Where it is applicable may be determined by
what you have to express. Pausing in its appropriate place makes
emphasis strong. [Sidenote: _Punctuation._] Let the pause be regulated,
however, by the feeling, and not all by the punctuation. Express
according to your conception of the thought. Punctuation may be a guide
to you in obtaining the right idea; but it is no guide to correct
expression. Pausing, generally, comes naturally either before or after,
or both before and after, the emphatic word or phrase.
[Sidenote: _Poetry._] Speak or read poetry with the same care and
attention to phrasing that you would give to prose, and you will avoid
all drawling, monotony, or sing-song. In order that the rhyme in poetry
may be preserved, the pronunciation of a word may be changed from common
usage, if, by so doing, you do not obscure the meaning; but never
sacrifice the meaning for the sake of the rhyme. In good poetry, which
includes blank verse, the metrical movement will show itself without any
attempt on your part to make it prominent.
[Sidenote: _Stage fright._] You may feel, when you first come before an
audience, a shrinking, or faintness of feeling, such as is known to
actors as "stage fright." It probably arises from a very sensitive,
nervous organization; and, other things being equal, persons of this
character make the best speakers. As to the real cause of this feeling,
as Lord Dundreary says, "It's one of those things no fellah can find
out." But, whatever its cause, you can overcome it by strong will-power
and self-possession; and, after a time, you will become used to
appearance in public, and that will establish the "confidence of habit."
Some of the best orators and actors that ever lived have had "stage
fright;" and some of them, so far as we know, never had it. So you must
not flatter yourself that this is a certain indication of your power. It
takes much more than a tendency to "stage fright" to make a powerful
speaker.
[Sidenote: _Reading. Speaking. Recitation._] Whether you are reading
from a book or paper, reciting from memory, or speaking extempore your
own thought, you should do all as you would the latter, so that a blind
man, who could not judge which you were doing except by the sound of
your voice, would be unable to tell. In committing to memory for
recitation, you will remember more easily if you will pick out the
emphatic words of the sentences in their order, and commit them, as they
contain an outline of the succession of thought and meaning.
[Sidenote: _Action._] The look upon the face, the gestures of the arm,
the attitude of the body, all speak the language of emotion as plainly
to the eye as elocution proper does to the ear. This action will be
prompted by the feelings, as the voice is; and it will be expressive or
not, it will be appropriate or not, it will be graceful or not,
according as you have natural or acquired ability. Natural ability will
be much aided by a knowledge and practice of gesture as a language, and
much may be acquired by any one with practice.
[Sidenote: _Look. Gesture. Attitude._] I have said nothing of action
in the previous pages, as this book treats of expression through the
voice, or elocution. A few words here upon the subject will not be out
of place. When you read, you should ordinarily make your voice express
much, and use gesture sparingly, but, if you feel prompted to make
gestures, never do so while the eye rests on the book. Look either at
the audience, or as may be indicated by the gesture. When you recite, or
speak extempore, you can add much to the expression by look, gesture,
and attitude. In natural expression the face will first light up, and
show feeling; and the attitude and gesture follow more or less quickly,
according to the feeling; and then comes speech. And all these must
express alike. For the face to be expressionless, or to express one
thing while the speech and gesture say another thing, is in effect
ludicrous.
[Sidenote: _Motion without meaning._] Remember that all motions and
attitudes have meaning; and, when no other gesture or attitude is called
for to express some feeling, stand perfectly still in the speaker's
position before mentioned, that being an active, and at the same time a
neutral position. Don't move, unless you mean something by it. Don't
sway the body, or nod the head, or shrug the shoulders, or move the
feet, or make motions or gestures, unless the proper expression call for
it, and your emotion prompts.
[Sidenote: _The eye._] The eye is particularly effective in expression,
as there the emotion first shows itself; and by it you can get and keep
the attention of your audience. In reading, keep your eye off the book
as much as possible, and on your audience. In recitation or extempore
speaking, look at your audience. The eye leads in gesture, and, in many
cases, looks in the direction of the gesture. In personation of
character, as in dramatic scenes, your eye must look at those to whom
you are supposed to be speaking, as, in common conversation, you usually
look at the person to whom you speak. Never look in an undecided way, as
if you did not have a purpose in looking, but look in the face and eyes
of your audience when emotional expression does not require you to look
elsewhere.
[Sidenote: _Gesture._] When you don't wish to use your arm for gesture,
let it hang naturally at the side. When the emotion calls for gesture,
make it with decision, and let the gesture continue as long as you utter
words explaining the meaning of the gesture. Gesture always comes before
words, more or less quickly, as may be the kind of emotion. Usually, if
the words are quickly spoken, the gesture will be quickly made, and the
words will be spoken almost at instant of the gesture. If the words move
slow, the gesture will move slow, and there may be a perceptible pause
between the gesture and words. [Sidenote: _No rules for gesture._] No
stated rules for gesture can be given; for they are as infinite in
number and variety as the emotions they express. You will find, however,
that gesture may be regulated, as emotional expression of voice is, by
means of your intensity of thought and feeling, guided by common sense,
and aided by genius. Gesture is a science and art, which, as in speech
and song, has elements of emotional expression; and these elements
correspond in each. You have in gesture (as said of the others) quality
or kind of gesture, force or intensity in gesture, time or the degree of
movement in gesture, and pitch, or relative height and depth; and all
these have a meaning something like the corresponding elements of song,
or speech, or other arts. Long and hard study and practice will be
necessary to perfection in this, as in all arts. A graceful habit of
gesture, an appropriate expression of eye and face, united to a voice
full-toned, musical, and varying in all shades of emotional
expression,--what is there more captivating to eye and ear, more
pleasing to the senses, more instructive to the mind, more moving to the
emotions, if only it is, as Mendelssohn says of all art, expressive of
lofty thought? "Every art can elevate itself above a mere handicraft
only by being devoted to the expression of lofty thought."
DEFECTS OF SPEECH.
Defects of speech cannot be spoken of at great length in this book. A
thorough study of articulation in Parts One and Two will cure any of
them where there is no defect in the mouth. The letter _s_ is more often
defective than any other letter, it being pronounced like _th_ in
_thin_, or whistled. In the first the tongue is too far forward: in the
last it is drawn too far back. Cure by imitating somebody who makes it
correctly. _R_ is often defective by substituting _w_ for it; as, _wun_
for _run_. Sometimes it is defective by being made with the whole
tongue, something as _y_ is made; as, _yun_ for _run_: and cure may be
had by imitating the correct sound. Other defects of letters or
elementary sounds are less common, and need not be mentioned here.
[Sidenote: _Too precise speech._] Too precise speech is a defect, and
results from trying to give too much force to the consonant sounds, and
not a due proportion to the vowel sounds. It sounds like affectation on
the part of the speaker, and may be corrected by giving more force to
the vowels, and particular attention to phrasing. (See "Articulation,"
Part Three.)
[Sidenote: _Slovenly speech._] Slovenly speech is a defect, and is
opposite in kind and effect from the above. The consonants are not
pronounced; and, to remedy it, practise to give consonants more force
and precision, and pay attention to phrasing and emphasis.
[Sidenote: _Too rapid speech._] Speaking too rapidly is a defect, and
results from too rapid thought. Put a restraint upon thought,--that is,
control it,--and make the tongue move slower in consequence, being
careful to phrase and emphasize well.
[Sidenote: _Too slow speech._] Speaking too slowly is also a defect,
opposite in kind from rapid speech, and is caused by the mind moving too
slowly in thinking. The remedy is to think faster, and urge the tongue
to move quicker.
[Sidenote: _Stuttering._] When you have too slow thought and too rapid
speech, you have stuttering; for the tongue keeps moving all the time
while the thought is coming, and it repeats syllables or words. Make
the mind of the stutterer move faster, and the tongue talk slower. In
each of these last three defects, let the person who wants to cure it
"know what you wish to say before you attempt to say it."
[Sidenote: _Stammering._] Stammering is caused by too much effort on the
part of the person to make articulate sounds, and is usually the result
of imitating some one who stammered, or formed gradually by habit of
incorrect breathing, and from physical weakness. Stammerers make the
attempt to speak, and the lips or tongue or jaw become immovable, or the
words stick in their throat; and, because this takes place, they make
great effort to overcome it. The more effort they make, the harder it is
for them; and sometimes this leads to contortions and jerkings of body
and limbs that are painful. To cure this takes a longer or shorter time,
depending on the state of health, the length of time the habit has been
in forming, the amount of jerking of limbs to which the stammerer is
subject, and the care taken by the stammerer to practise much. A
stammerer can be cured by teaching articulation thoroughly. (See Parts
One and Two of this book; also Monroe's Fourth Reader.) Show every
element separately, and the position the mouth takes to make it; then
combine into syllables, then into words, then into phrases. Show the
stammerer, that, the less the effort made, the easier will be the
speaking. Impress upon the stammerer's mind, "Make no effort to speak,"
and the habit is to be overcome by long-continued practice and a
thorough and complete training in articulation. When reading, be sure
and read in phrases; that is, speak a phrase, as a long word, without
pause. Stammerers, being usually feeble in health, should practise the
physical and vocal gymnastics (Parts One and Two), and particularly the
breathing exercises. When you have given the stammerer confidence, and
he or she finds that talking is as easy as walking or singing, the cure
is certain. There may be times of excitability or nervousness when
stammering will return; but these times will be less and less frequent
as health gets better and confidence grows, and finally will not return.
Remember, stammerer, "make no effort." Be lazy, and even, at first,
slovenly in speech, and cure is certain.
THE END.
* * * * *
MR. WALTER K. FOBES,
(Graduate of Boston University School of Oratory,)
IS PREPARED TO TEACH
Elocution in Private or Class Lessons,
Either at his room in Boston, his residence in North Cambridge, or
private residences in Boston or vicinity. The private lessons are
adapted to the wants of the pupil as reader or speaker, in the pulpit,
at the bar, on the rostrum, on the stage, or in the parlor. The class
lessons are designed to make pleasing, intelligent readers for the
social or home circle.
Mr. Fobes will also accept engagements from
SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES, OR COLLEGES,
for courses of lessons designed to give a practical drill in the
elements of good reading and speaking.
He is also prepared to cure
STAMMERING, STUTTERING, LISPING,
and other defects of speech, by a simple, natural method, and the use
(when required) of Bell's Visible Speech.
A few engagements will be accepted for _PUBLIC OR PARLOR READINGS_.
149 A TREMONT STREET,
Cor. of West St.,
BOSTON.
Residence, Beach St., No. Cambridge, Mass.
* * * * *
"=Books that our Teachers ought to have on hand to SPICE UP with now and
then.="--ST. LOUIS JOURNAL OF EDUCATION.
GEO. M. BAKER'S
READING CLUB and HANDY SPEAKER,
BEING
_Selections in Prose and Poetry_,
SERIOUS, HUMOROUS, PATHETIC, PATRIOTIC, and DRAMATIC. FRESH and
ATTRACTIVE PIECES for SCHOOL SPEAKERS and READING CIRCLES.
In the words of the GOSPEL BANNER,--
_'From grave to gay, from lively to severe,'
In poetry and prose a judicious mixture here;
Beside outlandish dialects, full of words odd and queer,
Which stir one's sense of humor as they fall upon the ear,
Pleasant to those who read or speak as unto those who hear._
Published in Parts, each Part containing Fifty Selections. Paper Covers,
15 cents each. Printed on Fine Paper, and Handsomely Bound in Cloth,
price, 50 cents each.
READING CLUB NO. 1.
"We have many readers and books that purport to furnish pieces for the
use of amateur speakers and juvenile orators. But the great defect in
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series of authors. We are surfeited _ad nauseam_ with 'The boy stood on
the burning deck,' 'On Linden, when the sun was low,' 'My name is
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some fifty selections which have not been published before in any
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the amateur stage, and achieved a reputation as a public reader, so that
he is eminently qualified by his own experience for the task of teaching
others."--_Phil. Age._
READING CLUB NO. 2.
"Mr. Baker deserves the thanks of the reading public for his
indefatigable endeavors in the field of light and agreeable literature.
The selections are made with good taste, and the book will be of great
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"In its adaptation to day schools, seminaries, colleges, and home
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READING CLUB NO. 3.
"This is one of those books that our teachers ought to have at hand to
_spice up_ with now and then. This is No. 3 of the series, and they are
all brim full of short articles, serious, humorous, pathetic, patriotic,
and dramatic. Send and get one, and you will be sure to get the
rest."--_St. Louis Journal of Education, Jan. 1876._
"The young elocutionist will find it a convenient pocket companion, and
the general reader derive much amusement at odd moments from its
perusal."--_Forest and Stream, N. Y., Jan. 6, 1876._
READING CLUB NO. 4. (_Just Ready._)
_Sold by all Booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of
price._
LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston.
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent
spellings have been kept.
Words surrounded by _ are italicized.
Words surrounded by = are bold.
Small capitals are presented as all capitals in this e-text.
In this e-text, ['w] represents letter w with the acute accent above it
as this symbol is not available in latin-1.
In this e-text, [`w] represents letter w with the grave accent above it
as this symbol is not available in latin-1.
In this e-text, [vo] represents letter o with the caron (v-shaped
symbol) above it as this symbol is not available in latin-1.