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The last kind of modulation respects the variation of key in entire periods.

“ The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places. How are the mighty fallen! Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the streets of Askelon; lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice,-lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of offerings : for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul,

as though he had not been anointed with oil.” The first of these divisions expresses sorrow and lamentation, and therefore the key is low. The next contains a spirited command, and should be pronounced much higher. The last division, or address to the mountains, where his friends were slain, is an injunction, and requires a middle key.

EMPHASIS OF SPEECH. RULE.-Words which convey the strongest idea should always be uttered with the strongest exertion.

Hell, receive thy new possessor; one who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by place or time!
The mind is its own place; and in itself

Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n. In the second line, the word "place" is particularly emphatic, but in the third line, the same word loses its forcible idea, while the emphasis is transferred to "own."

A somewhat similar instance is a climax of Dr. Young's, where in the same sentence, the repeated word keeps changing its mode of utterance.

Sweet harmonist, and beautiful as sweet,
And young as beautiful, and soft as young,

And gay as soft, and innocent as gay. Here the first “sweet” is more emphatic than the second, and so of “beautiful,” “young," and the other epithets.

Sometimes the spirit of a whole sentence lies in a few words, which should be spoken particularly emphatic.

KNOW YE NOT ME? ye knew me once, no mate,
For you, there sitting where you dur'st not soar,
Not to know me, argues yourselves unknown,
The lowest of your throng; or if ye know,

Why ask ye? Here the words “Know me,” may be compared to the principal object in a piece of painting. The attention is directed to them, and they ought to be much stronger emphasized than all the rest.

In some cases, otherwise unimportant words, become the most striking in a passage, and require a stronger emphasis.

-Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,

a

a

the ring,

If
you

did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I

gave
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,

You would abate the strength of your displeasure. Having acquired those qualities which render the exertion of speech the easiest to our own organs, and the most agreeable to the ears of others,—to point out its meaning in the most forcible manner by the proper use of emphasis, -to exhibit at once the gracefulness of pronunciation, the harmony of cadence, the strength of argument, the beauties of language, and the riches of the fancy and invention! It remains to crown the whole, that it be animated with the SPIRIT OF THE PASSIONS.

To attain this pathetic eloquence, the pupil must not only consult his own feelings, but carefully watch the operations of nature in others. In doing this he will observe, that there is a pathos in words as well as in language, and which when justly pronounced, excite certain ideas independently of articulate sounds. Who, in uttering the following words,

Slow, rapid, strength, weakness, harsh, smooth, torturing, pleasing, crumble, stumble, crash, flash, split, snap, crackle, purling, rustling, &c. does not feel in some degree, an idea of the objects they are intended to represent? How much stronger then must the effect be when such expressive words are combined into speech. Read but the description of the opening of the gates of hell, and of heaven, from Milton.

-On a sudden open fly
The infernal gates, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder!

-heaven open'd wide
Her ever during gates, harmonious sound,

On golden hinges moving. Abstractedly from the sense, the sound in these two passages, speaks their different meaning. Every well formed ear immediately perceives the GRATING HARSHNESS of the former, and the HARMONIOUS MOVING of the latter, and observes their strict adherence to the rule of Pope,-that sound should be an echo to the sense.

So in LEAR, when tortured to madness by the cruelty of his daughters, he thus apostrophizes the storm.

Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow!
Ye cataracts and hurricanes, spout
”Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks !
Ye sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
'Vaunt couriers to oak cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world;
Crack nature's moulds—spit fire, spout rain!

Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters !
Contrast the discord of these lines with the harmony of the next.

Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
And with ese raptures moves the vocal air
To testify his hidden residence..
How sweetly did they float upon the wings
Of silence, through the empty vaulted night,
At every fall, smoothing the raven down

Of darkness 'till it smild. If the mere structure of words can convey such expression, how greatly must that expression be heightened when united to those lively and ever varying tones, which nature sometimes exerts on the dullest words, or even where there are no words at all, as in the voice of laughter, crying, and other indications of mind, which are most frequently exerted unaccompanied by language.

A speaker will affect his audience according to the degree in which he is affected himself. There is a congenial sympathy, which darts like electrical spirit, from heart to heart. Let the pupil, therefore, in studying the pathos of speech, endeavour, according to the nature of the subject, to exert all the powers of his imagination and sensibility. In this consists the very soul of eloquence. He alone who possesses the force and pathos of speech deserves the name of orator. He who can seize the mind, and wind it wherever he pleases. It was this which raised the orators of old to such a height of excellence, and transmitted their names to posterity with such glowing renown.

So commanding, so persuasive is the human voice, that like a well-tuned instrument, it faithfully resounds to every impulse of the passions.

In joy it is clear, lively, and melodious; in grief it is soft,

plaintive, and interrupted ; in anger it is loud, harsh, and hurrying ; in fear it is slow, suppressed, and hesitating. Tender and flowing in persuasion ; stern and

1 awful in threatening, slow in conjecture, firm in assertion. In applause it expands, in reproach it contracts. It warbles in pleasure, swells in courage, storms in rage,

and thunders in command. These effects will be more clearly perceived in studying the nature of the several

PASSIONS AND EMOTIONS Of the mind, the proper expression of which forms the subject of the next part.

SCHOOL ELOCUTION.

PART III.

THE PASSIONS.

TRANQUILLITY. Tranquillity appears by the composure of the countenance, and general repose of the body and limbs, without the exertion of any one muscle. The countenance open, the forehead smooth ; the eyebrows arched, the mouth just not shut; and the eyes passing with an easy motion from object to object, but not dwelling long upon any one. In fact, this affection or state of the mind, like white, in regard to colours, is rather a disposition to receive, or be acted upon by passion, than a passion itself.

As tranquillity of mind, is directly opposite to agitation of mind, or the mind when ruffled by passion; so, unlike the latter, it requires but little modulation of voice in expressing it. Placid descriptions of nature, and other subjects of a like kind, are best adapted to the display of tranquillity; as may be seen in the following examples :

K. DUNCAN AND MACDUFF, AT MACBETH'S CASTLE. Dun.—This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air doth nimbly and sweetly

recommend itself unto our gentle senses. Mac.- This guest of summer, the temple-haunting martlet, doth approve by

his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath smells wooingly here"; no jutty, frieze, buttress, or coigne of 'vantage, but this bird hath made his pendant bed, and procreant cradle. Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed the air is delicate.

a

COMUS ON THE APPROACH OF EVENING.

The star that bids the shepherd fold,
Now the top of heav'n doth hold;
And the gilded car of day
His glowing axle doth allay,
In the steep Atlantic stream;
And the slope sun his upward beam,
Shoots against the dusky pole,
Pacing tow'rds the other goal
Of his chamber in the east;

Meantime welcome jollity and feast.
HOMER'S DESCRIPTION OF EVENING.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night!
O’er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole,
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain's head;
Then shines the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains rejoicing at the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.

EVENING FROM PARADISE LOST. Now came still evening on, and twilight grey ; Had in her sober livery all things clad : Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk; all but the wakeful nightingale ; She all night long her amorous descant sung; Silence was pleas'd: Now glow'd the firmament With living sapphires : Hesperus, that led 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.

EVENING FROM SHAKESPEARE. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon the bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica; look how the floor of heav'n Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims : Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.

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