feeble the impression which the composition, as a whole, is calculated to make.

THE most eloquent of the French, perhaps, indeed, of all modern orators, Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, terminates in a very moving manner, his funeral oration on the great Prince of Condé, with this return upon himself, and his old age: Accept, "O Prince! these last efforts of a voice which you

once well knew. With you all my funeral dis"courses are now to end. Instead of deploring "the death of others, henceforth, it shall be my

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study to learn from you, how my own may be "blessed. Happy, if warned by those grey hairs, "of the account which I must soon give of my ministry, I reserve, solely for that flock whom I "ought to feed with the word of life, the feeble "remains of a voice which now trembles, and of an ardor which is now on the point of being "extinct *."

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Agréez ces derniers efforts d'une voix que vous fut connue. "Vous mettrez fin à tous ces discours. Au lieu de déplorer la "mort des autres, Grand Prince! dorenavant je veux apprendre "de vous, à rendre la mienne sainte. Heureux, si averti par ces "cheveux blancs, du compte que je dois rendre de mon adminis"tration, je reserve au troupeau que je dois nourrir de la parole "de vie, les restes d'une voix qui tombe, & d'une ardeur qui "s'éteint."-These are the last sentences of that oration: but the whole of the peroration from that passage, ❝ Venez, peuples, venez maintenant," &c. though it is too long for insertion, is a great master-piece of pathetic eloquence.

IN all discourses, it is a matter of importance to hit the precise time of concluding, so as to bring our discourse just to a point; neither ending abruptly and unexpectedly; nor disappointing the expectation of the hearers, when they look for the close; and continuing to hover round and round the conclusion, till they become heartily tired of us. We should endeavour to go off with a good grace; not to end with a languishing and drawling sentence; but to close with dignity and spirit, that we may leave the minds of the hearers warm; and dismiss them with a favourable impression of the subject and of the speaker.

LECTURE XXXIII.

PRONUNCIATION, OR DELIVERY.

HAVING treated of several general heads relating to eloquence, or public speaking, I now proceed to another very important part of the subject yet remaining, that is, the pronunciation, or delivery of a discourse. How much stress was laid upon this by the most eloquent of all orators, Demosthenes, appears from a noted saying of his, related both by Cicero and Quinctilian; when being asked, What was the first point in Oratory? he answered Delivery; and being asked, What was the second; and afterwards, What was the third? he still answered Delivery. There is no wonder that he should have rated this so high, and that for improving himself in it, he should have employed those assiduous and painful labours, which all the ancients takes so much notice of; for beyond doubt, nothing is of more importance. To superficial thinkers, the management of the voice and gesture, in public speaking, may appear to relate to decoration only, and to be one of the inferior arts of catching an audience.

But this is far from being the case. It is intimately connected with what is, or ought to be, the end of all public speaking, persuasion; and therefore deserves the study of the most grave and serious speakers, as much as of those whose only aim it is to please.

FOR let it be considered, whenever we address ourselves to others by words, our intention certainly is to make some impression on those to whom we speak; it is to convey to them our own ideas and emotions. Now the tone of our voice, our looks, and gestures, interpret our ideas and emotions no less than words do; nay, the impression they make on others, is frequently much stronger than any that words can make. We often see, that an expressive look, or a passionate cry, unaccompanied by words, conveys to others more forcible ideas, and rouses within them stronger passions, than can be communicated by the most eloquent discourse. The signification of our sentiments, made by tones and gestures, has this advantage above that made by words, that it is the language of nature. It is that method of interpreting our mind which nature has dictated to all, and which is understood by all; whereas, words are only arbitrary conventional symbols of our ideas; and, by consequence, must make a more feeble impression. So true is this, that, to render words fully significant, they must, almost in every case, receive some aid from the manner of pro

nunciation and delivery; and he who, in speaking, should employ bare words, without enforcing them by proper tones and accents, would leave us with a faint and indistinct impression, often with a doubtful and ambiguous conception of what he had delivered. Nay, so close is the connection between certain sentiments and the proper manner of pronouncing them, that he who does not pronounce them, after that manner, can never persuade us, that he believes, or feels, the sentiments themselves. His delivery may be such as to give the lie to all that he asserts. When Marcus Callidius accused one of an attempt to poison him, but enforced his accusation in a languid manner, and without any warmth or earnestness of delivery, Cicero, who pleaded for the accused person, improved this into an argument of the falsity of the charge, "An tu, M. Calidi, nisi fingeres, sic ageres?" In Shakespeare's Richard II. the Duchess of York thus impeaches the sincerity of her husband:

Pleads he in earnest?-Look upon his face,

His

eyes do drop no tears; his prayers are jest ; His words come from his mouth; ours, from our breast; He prays but faintly, and would be denied;

We pray with heart and soul.

BUT, I believe, it is needless to say any more in order to show the high importance of a good delivery. I proceed, therefore, to such observations as appear to me most useful to be made on this head.