McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader
by William Holmes McGuffey · English · Gutenberg #16751 · 823,922 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: McGuffey's Sixth Eclectic Reader
Author: William Holmes McGuffey
Release date: September 26, 2005 [eBook #16751]
Most recently updated: December 12, 2020
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16751
Credits: Produced by Don Kostuch
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MCGUFFEY'S SIXTH ECLECTIC READER ***
Produced by Don Kostuch
[Transcriber's Notes:
Welcome to the schoolroom of 1900. The moral tone is plain.
"She is kind to the old blind man."
The exercises are still suitable, and perhaps more helpful than some
contemporary alternatives. Much is left to the teacher. Explanations given
in the text are enough to get started teaching a child to read and write.
Counting in Roman numerals is included as a bonus in the form of lesson
numbers.
The form of contractions includes a space. The contemporary word "don't"
was rendered as "do n't".
The author, not listed in the text, is William Holmes McGuffey.
Passages using non-ASCI characters are approximately rendered in this text
version. See the PDF or DOC versions for the original images.
The section numbers are decimal in the Table of Contents but are in
Roman Numerals in the body.
Page headings are removed, but section titles are followed by the page on
which they appear.
Many items include a preceding biography of the author. This is ended with
three pound symbols. ###
Don Kostuch
end transcriber's notes]
[Illustration: Picture of a young woman and a trunk.]
She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half-open, and her finger up,
As though she said, "Beware!"
(Item XCV. Ginevra)
ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.
McGUFFEY'S SIXTH ECLECTIC READER.
REVISED EDITION.
McGuffey Editions and Colophon are Trademarks of
JOHN WILEY & SONS. INC.
NEW YORK-CHICHESTER-BRISBANE-SINGAPORE-TORONTO
SUPPLEMENTARY READING FOR
GRAMMAR AND HIGH SCHOOL GRADES
ECLECTIC ENGLISH CLASSICS.
Arnold's (Matthew) Sohrab and Rustum
Burke's Conciliation with the American Colonies
Carlyle's Essay on Burns
Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Defoe's History of the Plague in London
De Quincey's Revolt of the Tartars
Emerson's The American Scholar, Self-Reliance and Compensation
Franklin's Autobiography
"George Eliot's" Silas Marner
Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield
Irving's Sketch Book (Ten Selections)
Irving's Tales of a Traveler
Macaulay's Second Essay on Chatham
Macaulay's Essay on Milton
Macaulay's Essay on Addison
Macaulay's Life of Johnson
Milton's L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Comus Lycidas,
Milton's Paradise Lost, Books I and. II
Pope's Homer's Iliad, Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV,
Scott's Ivanhoe
Scott's Marmion
Scott's Lady of the Lake
Scott's The Abbot
Scott's Woodstock.
Shakespeare's Julius Caesar
Shakespeare's Twelfth Night
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice
Shakespeare's Midsummer-Night's Dream
Shakespeare's As You Like It
Shakespeare's Macbeth
Shakespeare's Hamlet,
Sir Roger de Coverley Papers (The Spectator),
Southey's Life of Nelson
Tennyson's The Princess,
Webster's (Daniel) Bunker Hill Orations,
-----
Sent, postpaid on receipt of price.
COPYRIGHT, 1879, BY VAN ANTWERP, BRAGG & COMPANY COPYRIGHT,
1896, BY AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.
COPYRIGHT, 1907 AND 1921, BY HENRY H. VAIL.
M'G REV. 6TH EC.
EP 118
Preface (3)
In the SIXTH READER, the general plan of the revision of McGUFFEY'S SERIES
has been carefully carried out to completion.
That plan has been to retain, throughout, those characteristic features of
McGUFFEY'S READERS, which have made the series so popular, and caused
their widespread use throughout the schools of the country. At the same
time, the books have been enlarged; old pieces have been exchanged for new
wherever the advantage was manifest; and several new features have been
incorporated, which it is thought will add largely to the value of the
series.
In the revision of the SIXTH READER, the introductory matter has been
retained with but little change, and it will he found very valuable for
elocutionary drill. In the preparation of this portion of the work, free
use was made of the writings of standard authors upon Elocution, such as
Walker, McCulloch, Sheridan Knowles, Ewing, Pinnock, Scott, Bell, Graham,
Mylins, Wood, Rush, and many others.
In making up the Selections for Reading, great care and deliberation have
been exercised. The best pieces of the old book are retained in the
REVISED SIXTH, and to the these been added a long list of selections from
the best English and American literature. Upwards of one hundred leading
authors are represented (see "Alphabetical List. of Authors," page ix),
and thus a wide range of specimens of the best style has been secured.
Close scrutiny revealed the fact that many popular selections common to
several series of Readers, had been largely adapted, but in McGUFFEY'S
REVISED READERS, wherever it was possible to do so, the selections have
been compared, and made to conform strictly with the originals as they
appear in the latest editions authorized by the several writers.
The character of the selections, aside from their elocutionary value, has
also been duly considered. It will be found, upon examination, that they
present the same instructive merit and healthful moral tone which gave the
preceding edition its high reputation.
Two new features of the REVISED SIXTH deserve especial attention--the
explanatory notes, and the biographical notices of authors. The first, in
the absence of a large number of books of reference, are absolutely
necessary, in some cases, for the intelligent reading of the piece; and it
is believed that in all cases they will add largely to the interest and
usefulness of the lessons.
The biographical notices, if properly used, are hardly of less value than
the lessons themselves. They have been carefully prepared, and are
intended not only to add to the interest of the pieces, but to supply
information usually obtained only by the separate study of English and
American literature.
The illustrations of the REVISED SIXTH READER are presented as specimens
of fine art. They are the work of the best artists and engravers that
could be secured for the purpose in this country. The names of these
gentlemen may be found on page ten.
The publishers would here repeat their acknowledgments to the numerous
friends and critics who have kindly assisted in the work of revision, and
would mention particularly President EDWIN C. HEWETT, of the State Normal
University, Normal, Illinois, and the HON. THOMAS W. HARVEY, of
Painesville, Ohio, who have had the revision of the SIXTH READER under
their direct advice.
Especial acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Houghton, Osgood & Co., for
their permission to make liberal selections from their copyright editions
of many of the foremost American authors whose works they publish.
January, 1880.
CONTENTS (5)
INTRODUCTION.
SUBJECT. PAGE
I. ARTICULATION 11
II. INFLECTION 18
III. ACCENT AND EMPHASIS 33
IV. INSTRUCTIONS FOR READING VERSE 39
V. THE VOICE 40
VI. GESTURE 55
SELECTIONS FOR READING. (5)
TITLE. AUTHOR. PAGE.
1. Anecdote of the Duke of Newcastle Blackwood's Magazine. 63
2. The Needle Samuel Woodworth. 67
3. Dawn Edward Everett. 68
4. Description of a Storm Benjamin Disraeli. 70
5. After the Thunderstorm James Thomson. 72
6. House Cleaning Francis Hopkinson. 73
7. Schemes of Life often Illusory Samuel Johnson. 78
8. The Brave Old Oak Henry Fothergill Chorley. 81
9. The Artist Surprised 82
10. Pictures of Memory Alice Cary. 88
11. The Morning Oratorio Wilson Flagg. 90
12. Short Selections in Poetry:
I. The Cloud John Wilson. 94
II. My Mind William Byrd. 94
III. A Good Name William Shakespeare. 95
V. Sunrise James Thomson. 95
V. Old Age and Death Edmund Waller. 95
VI. Milton John Dryden. 96
13. Death of Little Nell Charles Dickens. 96
14. Vanity of Life Johann Gottfried von Herder. 100
15. A Political Pause Charles James Fox 102
16. My Experience in Elocution John Neal. 104
17. Elegy in a Country Churchyard Thomas Gray. 108
18. Tact and Talent 113
19. Speech before the Virginia Convention Patrick Henry. 115
20. The American Flag Joseph Rodman Drake. 119
21. Ironical Eulogy on Debt 121
22. The Three Warnings Hester Lynch Thrale. 124
23. The Memory of Our Fathers Lyman Beecher. 128
24. Short Selections in Prose:
I. Dryden and Pope Samuel Johnson. 130
II. Las Casas Dissuading from Battle R.B. Sheridan. 130
III. Action and Repose John Ruskin. 131
IV. Time and Change Sir Humphry Davy. 131
V. The Poet William Ellery Channing. 132
VI. Mountains William Howitt. 132
25. The Jolly Old Pedagogue George Arnold. 133
26. The Teacher and Sick Scholar. Charles Dickens. 135
27. The Snow Shower William Cullen Bryant. 141
28. Character of Napoleon Bonaparte Charles Phillips. 143
29. Napoleon at Rest John Pierpont. 146
30. War Charles Sumner. 148
31. Speech of Walpole in Reproof of Mr. Pitt Sir R. Walpole. 151
32. Pitt's Reply to Sir Robert Walpole William Pitt. 152
33. Character of Mr. Pitt Henry Grattan. 154
34. The Soldier's Rest Sir Walter Scott. 156
35. Henry V. to his Troops William Shakespeare. 158
36. Speech of Paul on Mars' Hill Bible. 160
37. God is Everywhere Joseph Hutton. 161
38. Lafayette and Robert Raikes Thomas S. Grimke'. 163
39. Fall of Cardinal Wolsey William Shakespeare. 167
40. The Philosopher John P. Kennedy. 171
41. Marmion and Douglas Sir Walter Scott. 176
42. The Present Adelaide Anne Procter. 178
43. The Baptism John Wilson. 180
44. Sparrows Adeline D. Train Whitney. 185
45. Observance of the Sabbath Gardiner Spring. 186
46. God's Goodness to Such as Fear Him Bible. 189
47. Character of Columbus Washington Irving. 192
48. "He Giveth His Beloved Sleep." Elizabeth B. Browning. 195
49. Description of a Siege Sir Walter Scott 197
50. Marco Bozzaris Fitz-Greene Halleck. 202
51. Song of the Greek Bard Lord George Gordon Byron. 205
52. North American Indians Charles Sprague. 209
53. Lochiel's Warning Thomas Campbell. 211
54. On Happiness of Temper Oliver Goldsmith. 215
55. The Fortune Teller Henry Mackenzie. 218
56. Renzi's Address to the Romans Mary Russell Mitford. 221
57. The Puritan Fathers of New England F. W. P. Greenwood. 223
58. Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers Felicia Dorothea Hemans. 226
59. Necessity of Education Lyman Beecher. 228
60. Riding on a Snowplow Benjamin Franklin Taylor. 231
61. The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius William Shakespeare. 284
62. The Quack John Tobin. 238
63. Rip Van Winkle Washington Irving. 242
64. Bill and Joe Oliver Wendell Holmes. 240
65. Sorrow for the Dead Washington Irving. 249
66. The Eagle James Gates Percival. 251
67. Political Toleration Thomas Jefferson. 253
68. What Constitutes a State? Sir William Jones. 255
69. The Brave at Home Thomas Buchanan Read. 256
70. South Carolina Robert Young Hayne. 257
71. Massachusetts and South Carolina Daniel Webster. 259
72. The Church Scene from Evangeline H. W. Longfellow. 262
73. Song of the Shirt Thomas Hood. 266
74. Diamond cut Diamond. E'douard Rene' Lefebvre-Laboulaye. 269
75. Thanatopsis William Cullen Bryant. 275
76. Indian Jugglers William Hazlitt. 278
77. Antony over Caesar's Dead Body William Shakespeare. 281
78. The English Character William Hickling Prescott. 286
79. The Song of the Potter. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.290
80. A Hot Day in New York William Dean Howells. 292
81. Discontent.--An Allegory Joseph Addison. 295
82. Jupiter and Ten. James T. Fields. 301
83. Scene from "The Poor Gentleman" George Colman. 303
84. My Mother's Picture William Cowper. 310
85. Death of Samson John Milton. 312
86. An Evening Adventure 315
87. The Barefoot Boy John Greenleaf Wittier. 317
88. The Glove and the Lions James Henry Leigh Hunt. 321
89. The Folly of Intoxication William Shakespeare. 322
90. Starved Rock Francis Parkman. 325
91. Prince Henry and Falstaff. William Shakespeare. 327
92. Studies. Sir Francis Bacon. 332
93. Surrender of Granada. Sir Edward George Bulwer-Lytton. 334
94. Hamlet's Soliloquy. William Shakespeare. 339
95. Ginevra Samuel Rogers. 340
96. Inventions and Discoveries John Caldwell Calhoun. 344
97. Enoch Arden at the Window Alfred Tennyson. 347
98. Lochinvar Sir Walter Scott. 350
99. Speech on the Trial of a Murderer Daniel Webster. 352
100. The Closing Year George Denison Prentice. 355
101. A New City in Colorado Helen Hunt Jackson. 358
102. Importance of the Union Daniel Webster. 362
103. The Influences of the Sun John Tyndall. 364
104. Colloquial Powers of Franklin William Wirt. 366
105. The Dream of Clarence William Shakespeare. 368
106. Homeward Bound Richard H. Dana, Jr. 371
107. Impeachment of Warren Hastings T. B. Macaulay. 375
108. Destruction of the Carnatic Edmund Burke. 379
109. The Raven Edgar Allan Poe. 382
110. A View of the Colosseum Orville Dewey. 389
111. The Bridge Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.392
112. Objects and Limits of Science Robert Charles Winthrop. 394
113. The Downfall of Poland. Thomas Campbell. 396
114. Labor Horace Greeley. 398
115. The Last Days of Herculaneum Edwin Atherstone. 401
116. How Men Reason Oliver Wendell Holmes. 405
117. Thunderstorm on the Alps Lord Byron. 408
118. Origin of Property Sir William Blackstone. 410
119. Battle of Waterloo Lord Byron. 415
120. "With Brains, Sir" John Brown. 417
121. The New England Pastor Timothy Dwight. 410
122. Death of Absalom Bible. 420
123. Abraham Davenport John Greenleaf Whittier. 424
124. The Falls of the Yosemite Thomas Starr King. 426
125. A Psalm of Life Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.429
126. Franklin's Entry into Philadelphia. Benjamin Franklin. 431
127. Lines to a Waterfowl William Cullen Bryant. 434
128. Goldsmith and Addison William Makepeace Thackeray. 435
129. Immortality of the Soul Joseph Addison. 438
130. Character of Washington Jared Sparks. 440
131. Eulogy on Washington Henry Lee. 444
132. The Solitary Reaper William Wordsworth. 446
133. Value of the Present Ralph Waldo Emerson. 447
134. Happiness Alexander Pope. 451
135. Marion William Gilmore Simms. 453
136. A Common Thought Henry Timrod. 456
137. A Definite Aim in Reading Noah Porter. 457
138. Ode to Mt. Blanc Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 462
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS. (9)
NAME PAGE NAME PAGE
1. ADDISON, JOSEPH 295, 438 38. GOLDSMITH 215
2. ARNOLD. GEORGE 133 39. GRATTAN. HENRY 154
3. ATHERSTONE. EDWIN 401 40. GRAY, THOMAS 108
4. BACON, SIR FRANCIS 332 41. GREELEY, HORACE 398
5. BEECHER, LYMAN 128, 228 42. GREENWOOD, F. W. P. 223
6. BIBLE, THE 160, 189, 420 43. GRIMKE. THOMAS S. 163
7. BLACKSTONE, SIR WILLIAM 410 44. HALLECK. FITZ-GREEN 202
8. BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE 63 45. HAYNE, ROBERT YOUNG 257
9. BROWN, JOHN 417 46. HAZLITT, WILLIAM 278
10. BROWNING, ELIZABETH B. 195 47. HEMANS, FALICIA D. 226
11. BRYANT 141, 275, 434 48. HENRY, PATRICK 115
12. BULWER-LYTTON 334 19. HOLMES 246, 405
13. BURKE, EDMUND 379 50. HOOD, THOMAS 266
14. BYRD, WILLIAM 94 51. HOPKINSON, FRANCIS 73
15. BYRON 205, 408, 415 52. HOWELLS. W. D. 292
16. CALHOUN, JOHN C. 344 53. HOWITT, WILLIAM 132
17. CAMPBELL, THOMAS 211, 396 54. HUNT, LEIGH 321
18. CARY, ALICE 88 55. HUTTON, JOSEPH 161
19. CHANNING, WILLLIAM ELLERY 132 56. IRVING 192, 212, 249
20. CHORLEY, H. F. 81 57. JACKSON, HELEN HUNT 358
21. COLRIDGE. 462 58. JEFFERSON, THOMAS 253
22. COLMAN, GEORGE 303 59. JOHNSON, SAMUEL 78, 130
23. COWPER 310 60. JONES, SIR WILLIAM 255
24. DANA, RICHARD H. JR. 371 61. KENNEDY, JOHN P. 171
25. DAVY, SIR HUMPHRY 131 62. KING, THOMAS STARR 426
26. DEWEY, ORVILLE 389 63. LEE, HENRY 444
27. DICKENS 96, 135 64. LEFEBVRE-LABOULAYE 269
28. DISRAELI, BENJAMIN 70 65. LONGFELLOW 262,290,392,429
29. DRAKE, JOSEPH RODMAN 119 66. MACAULAY 375
30. DRYDEN 96 67. MACKENZIE. HENRY 218
31. DWIGHT, TIMOTHY 419 68. MILTON 312
32. EMERSON 447 69. MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL 221
33. EVERETT 68 70. NEAL, JOHN 104
34. FIELDS. JAMES T. 301 71. PARKMAN. FRANCIS 325
35. FLAGG, WILSON 90 72. PERCIVAL, J. G 251
36. FOX, CHARLES JAMES 102 73. PHILLIPS. CHARLES 143
37. FRANKLIN, BENJAMIN 431 74. PIERPONT, JOHN 146
NAME PAGE NAME PAGE
75. PITT 152 93. TAYLOR, B. F, 231
76. POE, EDGAR ALLAN 382 94. TENNYSON 347
77. POPE 451 95. THACKERAY 435
78, PORTER, NOAH 457 96. THOMSON, JAMES 72, 95
79. PRENTICE, GEO. D. 355 97. THRALE. HESTER LYNCH 124
80. PRESCOTT 286 98. TIMROD, HENRY 456
81. PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE l78 99. TOBIN, JOHN 238
82. READ, T. B. 256 100. TYNDALL 364
83. ROGERS, SAMUEL 340 101. VON HERDER. J. G. 100
84. RUSKIN, JOHN 131 102. WALLER, EDMUND 95
85. SCOTT 156,176,197,350 103. WALPOLE 151
86. SHAKESPEARE. 95, 158, 167 104. WEBSTER 259, 352, 362
234, 281, 322, 327, 339, 368 105. WHITNEY, ADELINE D. T. 185
87. SHERMAN, R. B. 130 106. WHITTIER 317, 424
88. SIMMS, WILLIAM GILMORE 453 107. WILSON, JOHN 94, 180
89. SPARKS, JARED 440 108. WINTHROP, R.C. 394
90. SPRAGUE, CHARLES 209 109. WIRT, WILLIAM 366
91. SPRING, GARDINER 186 110. WOODWORTH, SAMUEL 67
92. SUMNER 148 111. WORDSWORTH 440
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. (10)
Page Drawn by Engraved by
GINEVRA Frontspiece H. F. Farney. Timothy Cole.
DUKE OF NEWCASTLE 65 H. F. Farney. F.Juengling
GRAY'S ELEGY 112 Thomas Moran. Henry Bogert.
MARMION 177 C. S. Reinhart. J. G. Smithwick.
THE QUACK 240 Howard Pyle. J. P. Davis.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND 272 Alfred Kappes. Timothy Cole.
THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS 321 H. F. Farney. Smithwick and French.
HERCULANEUM 401 Charles D. Sauerwein. Francis S. King.
INTRODUCTION. (11)
The subject of Elocution, so far as it is deemed applicable to a work of
this kind, will be considered under the following heads, viz:
1. ARTICULATION. 4. READING VERSE.
2. INFLECTION. 5. THE VOICE.
3. ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. 6. GESTURE.
I. ARTICULATION. (11)
Articulation is the utterance of the elementary sounds of a language, and
of their combinations.
As words consist of one or more elementary sounds, the first object of the
student should he to acquire the power of uttering those sounds with
distinctness, smoothness, and force. This result can be secured only by
careful practice, which must be persevered in until the learner has
acquired a perfect control of his organs of speech.
ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. (12)
An Elementary Sound is a simple, distinct sound made by the organs of
speech.
The Elementary Sounds of the English language are divided into Vocals,
Subvocals, and Aspirates.
VOCALS. (12)
Vocals are sounds which consist of pure tone only. They are the most
prominent elements of all words, and it is proper that they should first
receive attention. A vocal may be represented by one letter, as in the
word hat, or by two or more letters, as in heat, beauty. A diphthong is a
union of two vocals, commencing with one and ending with the other. It is
usually represented by two letters, as in the words oil, boy, out, now.
Each of these can he uttered with great force, so as to give a distinct
expression of its sound, although the voice be suddenly suspended, the
moment the sound is produced. This is done by putting the lips, teeth,
tongue, and palate in their proper position, and then expelling each sound
from the throat in the same manner that the syllable "ah!" is uttered in
endeavoring to deter a child from something it is about to do; thus,
a'--a'--a'--.
Let the pupil he required to utter every one of the elements in the Table
with all possible suddenness and percussive force, until he is able to do
it with ease and accuracy. This must not he considered as accomplished
until he can give each sound with entire clearness, and with all the
suddenness of the crack of a rifle. Care must be taken that the vocal
alone be heard; there must be no consonantal sound, and no vocal sound
other than the one intended.
At first, the elementary sounds may be repeated by the class in concert;
then separately.
TABLE OF VOCALS. (13)
Long Sounds.
Sound as in
a hate
e err
a hare
i pine
a pass
o no
a far
oo cool
a fall
u tube
e eve
u burn
Short Sounds.
Sound as in
a mat
o hot
e met
oo book
i it
u us
Diphthongs.
oi, oy, as in oil, boy.
ou, ow, as in out, now.
REMARK I.--In this table, the short sounds are nearly or quite the same,
in quantity, as the long sounds. The difference consists chiefly in
quality. Let the pupil determine this fact by experiment.
REMARK II.--The vocals are often represented by other letters or
combinations of letters than those used in the table: for instance, a is
represented by ai as in hail, by ea as in steak, etc.
REMARK III.--As a general rule, the long vocals and the diphthongs should
be articulated with full, clear utterance; but the short vocals have a
sharp, distinct, and almost explosive utterance. Weakness of speech
follows a failure to observe the first point, while drawling results from
carelessness with respect to the second.
SUBVOCALS AND ASPIRATES (13)
Subvocals are those sounds in which the vocalized breath is more or less
obstructed.
Aspirates consist of breath only, modified by the vocal organs.
Words ending with subvocal sounds may be selected for practice on the
subvocals; words beginning or ending with aspirate sounds may be used for
practice on aspirates. Pronounce these words forcibly and distinctly,
several times in succession; then drop the other sounds, and repeat the
subvocals and aspirates alone. Let the class repeat the words and
elements, at first, in concert; then separately.
TABLE OF SUBVOCALS AND ASPIRATES. (14)
Subvocals. as in
b babe
d bad
g nag
j judge
v move
th with
z buzz
z azure (azh-)
w wine
Aspirates. as in
p rap
t at
k book
ch rich
f life
th smith
s hiss
sh rush
wh what
REMARK.--These eighteen sounds make nine pairs of cognates. In
articulating the aspirates, the vocal organs are put in the position
required in the articulation of the corresponding subvocals; but the
breath is expelled with some force, without the utterance of any vocal
sound. The pupil should first verify this by experiment, and then practice
on these cognates.
The following subvocals and aspirate have no cognates:
SUBVOCAL as in
l mill
ng sing
m rim
r rule
n run
y yet
ASPIRATE.
h, as in hat.
SUBSTITUTES. (14)
Substitutes are characters used to represent sounds ordinarily represented
by other characters.
TABLE OF SUBSTITUTES.
Sub for as in
a o what
y i hymn
e a there
c s cite
e a freight
c k cap
i e police
ch sh machine
i e sir
ch k chord
o u son
g j cage
o oo to
n ng rink
o oo would
s z rose
o a corn
s sh sugar
o u worm
x gz examine
u oo pull
gh f laugh
u oo rude
ph f sylph
y i my
qu k pique
qu kw quick
FAULTS TO BE REMEDIED. (15)
The most common faults of articulation are dropping an unaccented vowel,
sounding incorrectly an unaccented vowel, suppressing final consonants,
omitting or mispronouncing syllables, and blending words.
1. Dropping an unaccented vocal.
EXAMPLES.
CORRECT INCORRECT
gran'a-ry gran'ry
a-ban'don a-ban-d'n
im-mor'tal im-mor-t'l
reg'u-lar reg'lar
in-clem'ent in-clem'nt
par-tic'u-lar par-tic'lar
des'ti-ny des-t'ny
cal-cu-la'tian cal-cl'a-sh'n
un-cer'tain un-cer-t'n
oc-ca'sion oc-ca-sh'n
em'i-nent em'nent
ef'i-gy ef'gy
ag'o-ny ag'ny
man'i-fold man'fold
rev'er-ent rev'rent
cul'ti-vate cult'vate
2. Sounding incorrectly an unaccented vowel.
EXAMPLES.
CORRECT INCORRECT
lam-en-ta'-tion lam-un-ta-tion
ter'ri-ble ter-rub-ble
e-ter'nal e-ter-nul
fel'on-y fel-er-ny
ob'sti-nate ob-stun-it
fel'low-ship fel-ler-ship
e-vent' uv-ent
cal'cu-late cal-ker-late
ef'fort uf-fort
reg'u-lar reg-gy-lur
EXERCISES. (16)
The vocals most likely to be dropped or incorrectly sounded are
italicized.
He attended divine service regularly.
This is my particular request.
She is universally esteemed.
George is sensible of his fault.
This calculation is incorrect.
What a terrible calamity.
His eye through vast immensity can pierce.
Observe these nice dependencies.
He is a formidable adversary.
He is generous to his friends.
A tempest desolated the land.
He preferred death to servitude.
God is the author of all things visible and invisible.
3. Suppressing the final subvocals or aspirates.
EXAMPLE (16)
John an' James are frien's o' my father.
Gi' me some bread.
The want o' men is occasioned by the want o' money.
We seldom fine' men o' principle to ac' thus.
Beas' an' creepin' things were foun' there.
EXERCISES. (17)
He learned to write.
The masts of the ship were cast down.
He entered the lists at the head of his troops.
He is the merriest fellow in existence.
I regard not the world's opinion.
He has three assistants.
The depths of the sea.
She trusts too much to servants.
His attempts were fruitless.
He chanced to see a bee hovering over a flower.
4. Omitting or mispronouncing whole syllables.
EXAMPLES.
Correct is improperly pronounced
Lit'er-ar-ry lit-rer-ry
co-tem'po-ra-ry co-tem-po-ry
het-er-o-ge'ne-ous het-ro-ge-nous
in-quis-i-to'ri-al in-quis-i-to-ral
mis'er-a-ble mis-rer-ble
ac-com'pa-ni-ment ac-comp-ner-ment
EXERCISE
He devoted his attention chiefly to literary pursuits.
He is a miserable creature.
His faults were owing to the degeneracy of the times.
The manuscript was undecipherable.
His spirit was unconquerable.
Great industry was necessary for the performance of the task.
5. Blending the end of one word with the beginning of the next.
EXAMPLES
I court thy gif sno more.
The grove swere God sfir stemples.
My hear twas a mirror, that show' devery treasure.
It reflecte deach beautiful blosso mof pleasure.
Han d'me the slate.
This worl dis all a fleeting show,
For man' sillusion given.
EXERCISES. (18)
The magistrates ought to arrest the rogues speedily.
The whirlwinds sweep the plain.
Linked to thy side, through every chance I go.
But had he seen an actor in our days enacting Shakespeare.
What awful sounds assail my ears?
We caught a glimpse of her.
Old age has on their temples shed her silver frost.
Our eagle shall rise mid the whirlwinds of war,
And dart through the dun cloud of battle his eye.
Then honor shall weave of the laurel a crown,
That beauty shall bind on the brow of the brave.
II. INFLECTION. (18)
Inflection is a bending or sliding of the voice either upward or downward.
The upward or rising inflection is an upward slide of the voice, and is
marked by the acute accent, thus, ('); as,
Did you call'? Is he sick'?
The downward or falling inflection is a downward slide of the voice, and
is marked by the grave accent, thus, ('); as,
Where is London'? Where have you been'?
Sometimes both the rising and falling inflections are given to the same
sound. Such sounds are designated by the circumflex, thus, (v) or thus,
(^). The former is called the rising circumflex; the latter, the falling
circumflex; as,
But nobody can bear the death of Clodius.
When several successive syllables are uttered without either the upward or
downward slide, they are said to be uttered in a monotone, which is marked
thus, (--); as,
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll
EXAMPLES. (19)
Does he read correctly' or incorrectly'?
In reading this sentence, the voice should slide somewhat as represented
in the following diagram:
Does he read cor-rectly or incorrect-ly?
If you said vinegar, I said sugar,
To be read thus:
If you said vinegar, I said sugar,
If you said yes, I said no.
To be read thus:
If you said yes, I said no.
What! did he say no?
To be read thus:
What! did he say no?
He did'; he said no',
To be read thus;
He did; he said no.
Did he do it voluntarily', or involuntarily'?
To be read thus:
Did he do it voluntarily, or involuntarily?
He did it voluntarily', not involuntarily',
To be read thus:
He did it voluntarily, not involuntarily.
EXERCISES. (20)
Do they act prudently', or imprudently'?
Are they at home', or abroad'?
Did you say Europe', or Asia'?
Is he rich', or poor'?
He said pain', not pain'.
Are you engaged', or at leisure'?
Shall I say plain', or pain'?
He went home' not abroad'.
Does he say able', or table'?
He said hazy' not lazy'?
Must I say flat', or flat'?
You should say flat' not flat'.
My father', must I stay'?
Oh! but he paused upon the brink.
It shall go hard with me, but I shall use the weapon.
Heard ye those loud contending waves,
That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state'?
Saw ye the mighty from their graves
Look up', and tremble at your fate'?
First' Fear', his hand, its skill to try',
Amid the chords bewildered laid';
And back recoiled', he knew not why'
E'en at the sound himself had made'.
Where be your gibes' now? your gambols'? your songs'? your flashes of
merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar'?
Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is
Holy; "I dwell in the high and holy place."
FALLING INFLECTION. (21)
RULE I.--Sentences, and parts of sentences which make complete sense in
themselves, require the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (21)
1. By virtue we secure happiness'.
2. For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven': I will
exalt my throne above the stars of God': I will sit, also, upon the mount
of the congregation, in the sides of the north'.
3. The wind and the rain are over'; calm is the noon of the day\: the
clouds are divided in heaven'; over the green hills flies the inconstant
sun'; red through the stormy vale comes down the stream'.
4. This proposition was, however, rejected,' and not merely rejected, but
rejected with insult'.
Exception.--Emphasis sometimes reverses this rule, and requires the rising
inflection, apparently for the purpose of calling attention to the idea of
an unusual manner of expressing it.
EXAMPLES. (21)
1. I should not like to ride in that car'.
2. Look out! A man was drowned there yesterday'.
3. Presumptuous man! the gods' take care of Cato',
RULE II.--The language of emphasis generally requires the falling
inflection.
EXAMPLES. (22)
1. Charge', Chester, charge'; on', Stanley, on'.
2. Were I an American, as I am an Englishman, while a single' foreign
troop' remained' in my country, I would never' lay down my arms'--never',
never', never.'
3. Does anyone suppose that the payment of twenty shillings, would have
ruined Mr. Hampden's fortune? No'. But the payment of half twenty
shillings, on the principle' it was demanded, would have made him a
slave'.
4. I insist' upon this point': I urge' you to it; I press' it, demand' it.
5. All that I have', all that I am', and all that I hope' in this life, I
am now ready', here, to stake' upon it.
RULE III.--Interrogative sentences and members of sentences, which
can not be answered by yes or no, generally require the falling inflection.
EXAMPLE. (22)
1. How many books did he purchase'?
2. Why reason ye these things in your hearts'?
3. What see' you, that you frown so heavily to-day'?
4. Ah! what is that flame which now bursts on his eye'?
5. Whence this pleasing hope', this fond desire',
This longing after immortality'?
Exception.--When questions usually requiring the falling inflection are
emphatic or repeated, they take the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES. (22)
1. Where did you say he had gone'?
2. To whom did you say the blame was to be imputed'?
3. What is' he? A knave. What' is he? A knave, I say.
RISING INFLECTION. (23)
RULE IV.--The rising inflection is generally used where the sense is
dependent or incomplete.
REMARK.--This inflection is generally very slight, requiring an acute and
educated ear to discern it, and it is difficult to teach pupils to
distinguish it, though they constantly use it. Care should be taken not to
exaggerate it.
EXAMPLES. (23)
1. Nature being exhausted', he quietly resigned himself to his fate.
2. A chieftain to the Highlands bound',
Cries', "Boatman, do not tarry!"
3. As he spoke without fear of consequences', so his actions were
marked with the most unbending resolution,
4. Speaking in the open air', at the top of the voice', is an admirable
exercise.
5. If then, his Providence' out of our evil, seek to bring forth good', our
labor must be to prevent that end.
6. He', born for the universe', narrowed his mind,
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
REMARK.--The names of persons or things addressed, when not used
emphatically, are included in this rule.
7. Brother', give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick!,
Let me embrace thee in my weary arms.
8. O Lancaster', I fear thy overthrow.
9. Ye crags' and peaks', I'm with you once again.
Exception 1.--Relative emphasis often reverses this and the first rule,
because emphasis is here expressed in part by changing the usual
inflections.
EXAMPLES. (23)
1. If you care not for your property', you surely value your life'.
2. If you will not labor for your own' advancement, you should regard
that of your children'.
3. It is your place to obey', not to command'.
4. Though by that course he should not destroy his reputation', he will
lose all self-respect'.
Exception 2.--The names of persons addressed in a formal speech, or
when used emphatically, have the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (24)
1. Romans, countrymen, and lovers', hear me for my cause, etc.
2. Gentlemen of the jury', I solicit your attention, etc.
3. O Hubert', Hubert', save me from these men.
RULE V.--Negative sentences and parts of sentences, usually require
the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES. (24)
1. It is not by starts of application that eminence can be attained'.
2. It was not an eclipse that caused the darkness at the crucifixion of
our Lord'; for the sun and moon were not relatively in a position' to
produce an eclipse'.
3. They are not fighting': do not disturb' them: this man is not expiring
with agony': that man is not dead': they are only pausing'.
4. My Lord, we could not have had such designs'.
5. You are not left alone to climb the steep ascent': God is with you, who
never suffers the spirit that rests on him to fail.
Exception 1.--Emphasis may reverse this rule.
EXAMPLE. (24)
We repeat it, we do not' desire to produce discord; we do not' wish to
kindle the flames of a civil war.
Exception 2.--General propositions and commands usually have the
falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (25)
God is not the author of sin'. Thou shalt not kill.
RULE VI.--Interrogative sentences, and members of sentences which
can be answered by yes or no generally require the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES. (25)
1. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation'?
2. Does the gentleman suppose it is in his power', to exhibit in Carolina
a name so bright' as to produce envy' in my bosom?
3. If it be admitted, that strict integrity is not the shortest way to
success, is it not the surest', the happiest', the best'?
4. Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, To wash this crimson
hand as white as snow'?
Exception.--Emphasis may reverse this rule.
EXAMPLES. (25)
1, Can' you be so blind to your interest? Will' you rush headlong to
destruction?
2. I ask again, is' there no hope of reconciliation? Must' we abandon all
our fond anticipations?
3. Will you deny' it? Will you deny' it?
4. Am I Dromio'? Am I your man'? Am I myself'?
RULE VII.--Interrogative exclamations, and words repeated as a kind
of echo to the thought, require the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES. (25)
1. Where grows', where grows it not'?
2. What'! Might Rome have been taken'? Rome taken when I was consul'?
3. Banished from Rome'! Tried and convicted traitor'!
4. Prince Henry. What's the matter'?
Falstaff. What's the matter'? Here be four of us
have taken a thousand pounds this morning.
Prince H. Where is' it, Jack, where is' it?
Fal. Where is' it? Taken from us, it is.
5. Ha'! laughest thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?
6. And this man is called a statesman. A statesman'? Why, he never
invented a decent humbug.
7. I can not say, sir, which of these motives influence the advocates of
the bill before us; a bill', in which such cruelties are proposed as are
yet unknown among the most savage nations.
RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS. (26)
RULE VIII.--Words and members of a sentence expressing antithesis
or contrast, require opposite inflections.
EXAMPLES. (26)
1. By honor' and dishonor'; by evil' report and good' report; as
deceivers' and yet true'.
2. What they know by reading', I know by experience'.
3. I could honor thy courage', but I detest thy crimes'.
4. It is easier to forgive the weak', who have injured us', than the
powerful' whom we' have injured.
5. Homer was the greater genius', Virgil the better artist'.
6. The style of Dryden is capricious and varied'; that of Pope is cautious
and uniform'. Dryden obeys the emotions of his own mind'; Pope constrains
his mind to his own rules of composition.' Dryden is sometimes vehement
and rapid'; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle'. Dryden's page is
a natural field, rising into inequalities, varied by exuberant
vegetation'; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe and leveled by
the roller'.
7. If the flights of Dryden are higher', Pope continues longer on the
wing'. If the blaze of Dryden's fire is brighter', the heat of Pope's is
more regular and constant'. Dryden often surpasses' expectation, and Pope
never falls below' it.
REMARK l.--Words and members connected by or used disjunctively, generally
express contrast or antithesis, and always receive opposite inflection.
EXAMPLES. (27)
1. Shall we advance', or retreat'?
2. Do you seek wealth', or power'?
3. Is the great chain upheld by God', or thee'?
4. Shall we return to our allegiance while we may do so with safety and
honor', or shall we wait until the ax of the executioner is at our
throats'?
5. Shall we crown' the author of these public calamities with garlands',
or shall we wrest' from him his ill-deserved authority' ?
REMARK 2.--When the antithesis is between affirmation and negation, the
latter usually has the rising inflection, according to Rule V.
EXAMPLES. (27)
1. You were paid to fight' against Philip, not to rail' at him.
2. I said rationally', not irrationally'.
3. I did not say rationally', but irrationally'.
4. I said an elder' soldier, not a better'.
5. Let us retract while we can', not when we must'.
REMARK 3.--The more emphatic member generally receives the
falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (27)
1. A countenance more in sorrow', than anger'.
2. A countenance less in anger', than sorrow'.
3. You should show your courage by deeds', rather than by words.
4. If we can not remove' pain, we may alleviate' it.
OF SERIES. (28)
A series is a number of particulars immediately following one another
in the same grammatical construction.
A commencing series is one which commences a sentence or clause.
EXAMPLE. (28)
Faith, hope, love, joy, are the fruits of the spirit.
A concluding series is one which concludes a sentence or a clause.
EXAMPLE. (28)
The fruits of the spirit are faith, hope, love, and joy.
RULE IX.--All the members of a commencing series, when not emphatic,
usually require the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES. (28)
1. War', famine', pestilence', storm', and fire' besiege mankind.
2. The knowledge', the power', the wisdom', the goodness' of God, must all
be unbounded.
3. To advise the ignorant', to relieve the needy', and to comfort the
afflicted' are the duties that fall in our way almost every day of our
lives.
4. No state chicanery', no narrow system of vicious politics', no idle
contest for ministerial victories', sank him to the vulgar level of the
great.
5. For solidity of reasoning', force of sagacity', and wisdom of
conclusion', no nation or body of men can compare with the Congress at
Philadelphia.
6. The wise and the foolish', the virtuous and the evil', the learned and
the ignorant', the temperate and the profligate', must often be blended
together.
7. Absalom's beauty', Jonathan's love', David's valor', Solomon's wisdom',
the patience of Job, the prudence of Augustus', and the eloquence of
Cicero' are found in perfection in the Creator.
REMARK.--Some elocutionists prefer to give the falling inflection to the
last member of a commencing series.
Exception.--In a commencing series, forming a climax, the last term
usually requires the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (29)
1. Days', months', years', and ages', shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll.
2. Property', character', reputation', everything', was sacrificed.
3. Toils', sufferings', wounds', and death' was the price of our liberty.
RULE X.--All the members of a concluding series, when not at all emphatic,
usually require the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (29)
1. It is our duty to pity', to support', to defend', and to relieve' the
oppressed.
2. At the sacred call of country, they sacrifice property', ease',
health', applause' and even life'.
3. I protest against this measure as cruel', oppressive', tyrannous', and
vindictive'.
4. God was manifest in the flesh', justified in the Spirit', seen of
angels', preached unto the Gentiles', believed on in the world', received
up into glory'.
5. Charity vaunteth not itself', is not puffed up', doth not behave itself
unseemly', seeketh not her own', is not easily provoked', thinketh no
evil'; beareth' all things, believeth' all things, hopeth' all things,
endureth' all things.
REMARK.--Some authors give the following rule for the reading of a
concluding series: "All the particulars of a concluding series, except the
last but one, require the falling inflection." Exception l.--When the
particulars enumerated in a concluding series are not at all emphatic, all
except the last require the rising inflection.
EXAMPLES (30)
He was esteemed for his kindness', his intelligence', his self-denial',
and his active benevolence'.
Exception 2.--When all the terms of a concluding series are strongly
emphatic, they all receive the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES. (30)
1. They saw not one man', not one woman', not one child', not one
four-footed beast'.
2. His hopes', his happiness', his life', hung upon the words that fell
from those lips,
3. They fought', they bled', they died', for freedom.
PARENTHESIS. (30)
RULE XI.--A parenthesis should be read more rapidly and in a lower key
than the rest of the sentence, and should terminate with the same
inflection that next precedes it. If, however, it is complicated, or
emphatic, or disconnected from the main subject, the inflections must be
governed by the same rules as in the other cases.
REMARK.--A smooth and expressive reading of a parenthesis is difficult of
acquisition, and can be secured only by careful and persistent training.
EXAMPLES. (30)
1. God is my witness' (whom I serve with my spirit, in the gospel of his
Son'), that, without ceasing, I make mention of you always in my prayers;
making request' (if, by any means, now at length, I might have a
prosperous journey by the will of God'), to come unto you.
2. When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and laying
his left hand upon his breast' (a slender, white staff with which he
journeyed being in his right'), he introduced himself with a little story
of his convent.
3. If you, AEschines, in particular, were persuaded' (and it was no
particular affection for me, that prompted you to give up the hopes, the
appliances, the honors, which attended the course I then advised; but the
superior force of truth, and your utter inability to point any course more
eligible') if this was the case, I say, is it not highly cruel and unjust
to arraign these measures now, when you could not then propose a better?
4. As the hour of conflict drew near' (and this was a conflict to be
dreaded even by him'), he began to waver, and to abate much of his
boasting.
CIRCUMFLEX. (31)
RULE XII.--The circumflex is used to express irony, sarcasm, hypothesis,
or contrast.
NOTE.--For the reason that the circumflex always suggests a double or
doubtful meaning, it is appropriate for the purposes expressed in the
rule. It is, also, frequently used in sportive language; jokes and puns
are commonly given with this inflection.
EXAMPLES. (31)
1. Man never is, but always to be, blest.
2. They follow an adventurer whom they fear; we serve a monarch whom we
love. They boast, they come but to improve our state, enlarge our
thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error. Yes, they will give
enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of
passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection: yes, such
protection as vultures give to lambs, covering and devouring them.
MONOTONE. (32)
RULE XIII.--The use of the monotone is confined chiefly to grave and
solemn subjects. When carefully and properly employed, it gives great
dignity to delivery.
EXAMPLES. (32)
1. The unbeliever! one who can gaze upon the sun, and moon, and stars, and
upon the unfading and imperishable sky, spread out so magnificently above
him, and say, "All this is the work of chance!"
2. God walketh upon the ocean. Brilliantly
The glassy waters mirror back his smiles;
The surging billows, and the gamboling storms
Come crouching to his feet.
3. I hail thee, as in gorgeous robes,
Blooming thou leav'st the chambers of the east,
Crowned with a gemmed tiara thick embossed
With studs of living light.
4. High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous east, with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat.
5. His broad expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will.
6. In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs.
III. ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. (33)
ACCENT.
That syllable in a word which is uttered more forcibly than the others, is
said to be accented, and is marked thus, ('); as the italicized syllables
in the following words:
morn'ing. pos'si-ble.
ty'rant. re-cum'bent.
pro-cure'. ex-or'bi-tant,
de-bate'. com-pre-hen'sive.
Common usage alone determines upon what syllable the accent should be
placed, and to the lexicographer it belongs, to ascertain and record its
decision on this point.
In some few cases, we can trace the reasons for common usage in this
respect. In words which are used as different parts of speech, or which
have different meanings, the distinction is sometimes denoted by changing
the accent.
EXAMPLES. (33)
sub'ject sub-ject'
pres'ent pre-sent'
ab'sent ab-sent'
cem'ent ce-ment'
con'jure con-jure'
There is another case, in which we discover the reason for changing the
accent, and that is, when it is required by emphasis, as in the following:
EXAMPLES. (33)
1. His abil'ity or in'ability to perform the act materially varies
the case.
2. This corrup'tion must put on in'corruption.
SECONDARY ACCENT. (34)
In words of more than two syllables, there is often a second accent given,
but more slight than the principal one, and this is called the secondary
accent; as, em"igra'tion, rep"artee', where the principal accent is marked
('), and the secondary, ("); so, also, this accent is obvious, in
nav"iga'tion, com"prehen'sion, plau"sibil'ity, etc. The whole subject,
however, properly belongs to dictionaries and spelling books.
EMPHASIS. (34)
Emphasis consists in uttering a word or phrase in such a manner as to give
it force and energy, and to draw the attention of the hearer particularly
to the idea expressed.
This is most frequently accomplished by an increased stress of voice laid
upon the word or phrase. Sometimes, though more rarely, the same object is
effected by an unusual lowering of the voice, even to a whisper, and not
unfrequently by a pause before the emphatic word.
The inflections are often made subsidiary to this object. To give emphasis
to a word, the inflection is changed or increased in force or extent. When
the rising inflection is ordinarily used, the word, when emphatic,
frequently takes the falling inflection; and sometimes, also, the falling
inflection is changed into the rising inflection, for the same purpose.
Emphatic words are often denoted by being written in italics, in SMALL
CAPITALS, or in CAPITALS.
Much care is necessary to train the pupil to give clear and expressive
emphasis, and at the same time to avoid an unpleasant "jerky" movement of
the voice.
ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS. (35)
Where the emphasis is independent of any contrast or comparison with
other words or ideas, it is called absolute emphasis.
EXAMPLES. (35)
1. We praise thee, O God; we acknowledge thee to be the Lord.
2. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
3. Arm, warriors, arm!
4. You know that you are Brutus, that speak this,
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last.
5. Hamlet. Saw, who?
Horatio. The king, your father.
Hamlet. The king, my father?
6. Strike--till the last armed foe expires;
Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sites;
God, and your native land!
RELATIVE EMPHASIS. (35)
Where there is antithesis, either expressed or implied, the emphasis is
called relative.
EXAMPLES. (35)
1. We can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth.
2. But I am describing your condition, rather than my own.
3. I fear not death, and shall I then fear thee?
4. Hunting men, and not beasts, shall be his game.
5. He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but for the
sins of the whole world.
6. It may moderate and restrain, but it was not designed to banish
gladness from the heart of man.
In the following examples, there are two sets of antitheses in the same
sentence.
7. To err is human, to forgive, divine.
8. John was punished; William, rewarded.
9. Without were fightings, within were fears.
10. Business sweetens pleasure, as labor sweetens rest.
11. Justice appropriates rewards to merit, and punishments to crime.
12. On the one side, all was alacrity and courage; on the other, all was
timidity and indecision.
13. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the fool,
when he gains the applause of others.
14. His care was to polish the country by art, as he had protected it by
arms.
In the following examples, the relative emphasis is applied to three sets
of antithetic words.
15. The difference between a madman and a fool is, that the former
reasons justly from false data; and the latter, erroneously from just data.
16. He raised a mortal to the skies,
She drew an angel down.
Sometimes the antithesis is implied, as in the following instances.
17. The spirit of the white man's heaven,
Forbids not thee to weep.
18. I shall enter on no encomiums upon Massachusetts.
EMPHASIS AND ACCENT. (37)
When words, which are the same in part of their formation, are contrasted,
the emphasis is expressed by accenting the syllables in which they differ.
See Accent, page 33.
EXAMPLES. (37)
1. What is the difference between probability and possibility?
2. Learn to unlearn what you have learned amiss.
3. John attends regularly. William, irregularly.
4. There is a great difference between giving and forgiving.
5. The conduct of Antoninus was characterized by justice and humanity;
that of Nero, by injustice and inhumanity.
6. The conduct of the former is deserving of approbation, while that of
the latter merits the severest reprobation.
EMPHASIS AND INFLECTION. (37)
Emphasis sometimes changes the inflection from the rising to the falling,
or from the falling to the rising. For instances of the former change, see
Rule II, and Exception 1 to Rule IV. In the first three following
examples, the inflection is changed from the rising to the falling
inflection; in the last three, it is changed from the falling to the
rising, by the influence of emphasis.
EXAMPLES. (37)
1. If we have no regard for religion in youth', we ought to have respect
for it in age.
2. If we have no regard for our own' character, we ought to regard the
character of others.
3. If content can not remove' the disquietudes of life, it will, at least,
alleviate them.
4. The sweetest melody and the most perfect harmony fall powerless upon
the ear of one who is deaf',
5. It is useless to expatiate upon the beauties of nature to one who is
blind',
6. And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them,
because they are brethren'; but rather let them do them service.
EMPHATIC PHRASE. (38)
When it is desired to give to a phrase great force of expression, each
word, and even the parts of a compound word, are independently emphasized.
EXAMPLES. (38)
1. Cassius. Must I endure all this?
Brutus. All this!--Ay,--more. Fret, till your proud--heart--break.
2. What! weep you when you but behold
Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look ye here,
Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors.
3. There was a time, my fellow-citizens, when the Lacedaemonians were
sovereign masters, both by sea and by land; while this state had not one
ship--no, NOT--ONE--WALL.
4. Shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul; and not only of the Alpine
nations, but of the Alps themselves; shall I compare myself with this
HALF--YEAR--CAPTAIN?
5. You call me misbeliever--cutthroat--dog.
Hath a dog--money? Is it possible--
A cur can lend three--thousand--ducats?
EMPHATIC PAUSE. (39)
A short pause is often made before or after, and sometimes both before and
after, an emphatic word or phrase,--thus very much increasing the emphatic
expression of the thought.
EXAMPLES. (39)
1. May one be pardoned, and retain--the offense?
In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offense's gilded hand may shove by--justice;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: but 't is not so--above:
There--is no shuffling: there--the action lies
In its true nature.
2. He woke to hear his sentries shriek,
"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!
He woke--to die--midst flame and smoke."
3. This--is no flattery: These--are counselors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
4. And this--our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues--in tree, books--in the running brooks,
Sermons--in stones, and--good in everything.
5. Heaven gave this Lyre, and thus decreed,
Be thou a bruised--but not a broken--reed.
IV. INSTRUCTIONS FOR READING VERSE. (39)
INFLECTIONS.
In reading verse, the inflections should be nearly the same as in reading
prose; the chief difference is, that in poetry, the monotone and rising
inflection are more frequently used than in prose. The greatest difficulty
in reading this species of composition, consists in giving it that
measured flow which distinguishes it from prose, without falling into a
chanting pronunciation.
If, at any time, the reader is in doubt as to the proper inflection, let
him reduce the passage to earnest conversation, and pronounce it in the
most familiar and prosaic manner, and thus he will generally use the
proper inflection.
EXERCISES IN INFLECTION. (40)
1. Meanwhile the south wind rose, and with black wings
Wide hovering', all the clouds together drove
From under heaven': the hills to their supply',
Vapor and exhalation dusk and moist
Sent up amain': and now, the thickened sky
Like a dark ceiling stood': down rushed the rain
Impetuous', and continued till the earth
No more was seen': the floating vessel swam
Uplifted', and, secure with beake'd prow',
Rode tilting o'er the waves'.
2. My friend', adown life's valley', hand in hand',
With grateful change of grave and merry speech
Or song', our hearts unlocking each to each',
We'll journey onward to the silent land';
And when stern death shall loose that loving band,
Taking in his cold hand, a hand of ours',
The one shall strew the other's grave with flowers',
Nor shall his heart a moment be unmanned'.
My friend and brother'! if thou goest first',
Wilt thou no more revisit me below'?
Yea, when my heart seems happy causelessly',
And swells', not dreaming why', my soul shall know
That thou', unseen', art bending over me'.
3. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth',
A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown';
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth',
And Melancholy marked him for her own'.
4. Large was his bounty', and his soul sincere',
Heaven did a recompense as largely send';
He gave to misery (all he had) a tear',
He gained from heaven' ('t was all he wished') a friend'.
5. No further seek his merits to disclose',
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode';
(There they alike' in trembling hope repose',)
The bosom of his Father, and his God'.
ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. (41)
In reading verse, every syllable must have the same accent, and every word
the same emphasis as in prose; and whenever the melody or music of the
verse would lead to an incorrect accent or emphasis, this must be
disregarded.
If a poet has made his verse deficient in melody, this must not be
remedied by the reader, at the expense of sense or the established rules
of accent and quantity. Take the following:
EXAMPLE. (41)
O'er shields, and helms, and helme'd heads he rode,
Of thrones, and mighty Seraphim prostrate
According to the metrical accent, the last word must be pronounced
"pros-trate'." But according to the authorized pronunciation it is
"pros'trate. Which shall yield, the poet or established usage? Certainly
not the latter.
Some writers advise a compromise of the matter, and that the word should
he pronounced without accenting either syllable. Sometimes this may be
done, but where it is not practiced, the prosaic reading should be
preserved.
In the following examples, the words and syllables which are improperly
accented or emphasized in the poetry, are marked in italics. According to
the principle stated above, the reader should avoid giving them that
pronunciation which the correct rending of the poetry would require, but
should read them as prose, except where he can throw off all accent and
thus compromise the conflict between the poetic reading and the correct
reading. That is, he must read the poetry wrong, in order to read the
language right.
EXAMPLES. (42)
1. Ask of thy mother earth why oaks are made
Taller and stronger than the weeds they shade.
2. Their praise is still, "the style is excellent,"
The sense they humbly take upon content.
3. False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,
Its fairy colors spreads on every place.
4. To do aught good, never will be our task,
But ever to do ill is our sole delight.
5. Of all the causes which combine to blind
Man's erring judgment, and mislead the mind,
What the weak head with strongest bias rules
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
6. Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies,
And catch the manners living as they rise.
7. To whom then, first incensed, Adam replied,
"Is this thy love, is this the recompense
Of mine to thee, ungrateful Eve?"
8. We may, with more successful hope, resolve
To wage, by force or guile, successful war,
Irreconcilable to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and in excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.
9. Which, when Beelzebub perceived (than whom,
Satan except, none higher sat), with grave
Aspect, he rose, and in his rising seemed
A pillar of state.
10. Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget,
Those other two equaled with me in fate.
NOTE.--Although it would be necessary, in these examples, to violate the
laws of accent or emphasis, to give perfect rhythm, yet a careful and
well-trained reader will be able to observe these laws and still give the
rhythm in such a manner that the defect will scarcely be noticed.
POETIC PAUSES. (43)
In order to make the measure of poetry perceptible to the ear, there
should generally be a slight pause at the end of each line, even where the
sense does not require it.
There is, also, in almost every line of poetry, a pause at or near its
middle, which is called the caesura.
This should, however, never be so placed as to injure the sense of the
passage. It is indeed reckoned a great beauty, where it naturally
coincides with the pause required by the sense. The caesura, though
generally placed near the middle, may be placed at other intervals.
There are sometimes, also, two additional pauses in each line, called
demi-caesuras.
The caesura is marked (||), and the demi-caesura thus, (|), in the
examples given.
There should be a marked accent upon the long syllable next preceding
the caesura, and a slighter one upon that next before each of the
demi-caesuras. When made too prominent, these pauses lead to a singsong
style, which should be carefully avoided.
In the following examples, the caesura is marked in each line; the
demi-caesura is not marked in every case.
EXAMPLES. (44)
1. Nature | to all things || fixed | the limits fit,
And wisely | curbed || proud man's | pretending wit.
2. Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall part,
And the last pang || shall tear thee from his heart.
3. Warms in the sun, || refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, || and blossoms in the trees.
4. There is a land || of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven || o'er all the world beside,
Where brighter suns || dispense serener light,
And milder moons || imparadise the night;
Oh, thou shalt find, || howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land--thy country, || and that spot--thy home.
5. In slumbers | of midnight || the sailor | boy lay;
His hammock | swung loose || at the sport | of the wind;
But, watch-worn | and weary, || his cares | flew away,
And visions | of happiness || danced | o'er his mind.
6. She said, | and struck; || deep entered | in her side
The piercing steel, || with reeking purple dyed:
Clogged | in the wound || the cruel | weapon stands,
The spouting blood || came streaming o'er her hands.
Her sad attendants || saw the deadly stroke,
And with loud cries || the sounding palace shook.
SIMILE. (44)
Simile is the likening of anything to another object of a different class;
it is a poetical or imaginative comparison.
A simile, in poetry, should usually he read in a lower key and more
rapidly than other parts of the passage--somewhat as a parenthesis is
read.
EXAMPLES. (45)
1. Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal
With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form.
As when, to warn proud cities, war appears,
Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush
To battle in the clouds.
Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell,
Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air
In whirlwind. Hell scarce holds the wild uproar.
As when Alcides felt the envenomed robe, and tore,
Through pain, up by the roots, Thessialian pines,
And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw
Into the Euboic sea.
2. Each at the head,
Leveled his deadly aim; their fatal hands
No second stroke intend; and such a frown
Each cast at th' other, as when two black clouds,
With heaven's artillery fraught, came rolling on
Over the Caspian, there stand front to front,
Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow
To join the dark encounter, in mid-air:
So frowned the mighty combatants.
3. Then pleased and thankful from the porch they go
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe:
His cup was vanished; for, in secret guise,
The younger guest purloined the glittering prize.
As one who spies a serpent in his way,
Glistening and basking in the summer ray,
Disordered, stops to shun the danger near,
Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear,--
So seemed the sire, when, far upon the road,
The shining spoil his wily partner showed.
V. THE VOICE. (46)
PITCH AND COMPASS.
The natural pitch of the voice is its keynote, or governing note. It is
that on which the voice usually dwells, and to which it most frequently
returns when wearied. It is also the pitch used in conversation, and the
one which a reader or speaker naturally adopts--when he reads or speaks--
most easily and agreeably.
The compass of the voice is its range above and below this pitch. To avoid
monotony in reading or speaking, the voice should rise above or fall below
this keynote, but always with reference to the sense or character of that
which is read or spoken. The proper natural pitch is that above and below
which there is most room for variation.
To strengthen the voice and increase its compass, select a short sentence,
repeat it several times in succession in as low a key as the voice can
sound naturally; then rise one note higher, and practice on that key, then
another, and so on, until the highest pitch of the voice has been reached.
Next, reverse the process, until the lowest pitch has been reached.
EXAMPLES IN PITCH (46)
High Pitch.
NOTE.--Be careful to distinguish pitch from power in the following
exercise. Speaking in the open air, at the very top of the voice, is an
exercise admirably adapted to strengthen the voice and give it compass,
and should be frequently practiced.
1. Charge'! Chester" charge'! On'! Stanley, on'!
2. A horse'! a horse'! my kingdom' for a horse'!
3. Jump far out', boy' into the wave'!
Jump', or I fire'!
4. Run'! run'! run for your lives!
5. Fire'! fire'! fire'! Ring the bell'!
6. Gentlemen may cry peace'! peace'! but there is no peace!
7. Rouse' ye Romans! rouse' ye slaves'!
Have ye brave sons'? Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die'. Have ye fair daughters'? Look
To see them live, torn from your arms', distained',
Dishonored', and if ye dare call for justice',
Be answered by the lash'!
Medium Pitch. (47)
NOTE.--This is the pitch in which we converse. To strengthen it, we should
read or speak in it as loud as possible, without rising to a higher key.
To do this requires long-continued practice.
1. Under a spreading chestnut tree,
The village smithy stands';
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands';
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
2. There is something in the thunder's voice that makes me tremble like a
child. I have tried to conquer' this unmanly weakness'. I have called
pride' to my aid'; I have sought for moral courage in the lessons of
philosophy', but it avails me nothing'. At the first moaning of the
distant cloud, my heart shrinks and dies within me.
3. He taught the scholars the Rule of Three',
Reading, and writing, and history', too';
He took the little ones on his knee',
For a kind old heart in his breast had he',
And the wants of the littlest child he knew'.
"Learn while you're young'," he often said',
"There is much to enjoy down here below';
Life for the living', and rest for the dead',"
Said the jolly old pedagogue' long ago'.
Low Pitch. (48)
1. O, proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
Impostors to true fear, would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire.
Authorized by her grandam.
2. Thou slave! thou wretch! thou coward!
Thou little valiant, great in villainy!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou fortune's champion, thou dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety! Thou art perjured too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and sweat,
Upon my party! thou cold-blooded slave!
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.
4. O Thou eternal One! whose presence bright
All space doth occupy, all motion guide,
Unchanged through time's all-devastating blight!
Thou only God, there is no god beside!
Being above all things, mighty One,
Whom none can comprehend and none explore;
Who fill'st existence with thyself alone,--
Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er,--
Being whom we call God, and know no more!
QUANTITY AND QUALITY. (49)
Quantity, in reading and speaking, means the length of time occupied in
uttering a syllable or a word. Sounds and syllables vary greatly in
quantity. Some are long, some short, and others intermediate between those
which are long or short. Some sounds, also, may be prolonged or shortened
in utterance to any desired extent. Quantity may be classified as Long,
Medium, or Short.
DIRECTIONS FOR PRACTICE ON LONG QUANTITY.--Select some word of one
syllable ending with a long vocal or a subvocal sound; pronounce it many
times in succession, increasing the quantity at each repetition, until you
can dwell upon it any desired length of time, without drawling, and in a
natural tone.
REMARK.--Practice in accordance with this direction will enable the pupil
to secure that fullness and roundness of voice which is exemplified in the
hailing of a ship, "ship aho--y;" in the reply of the sailor, when, in the
roar of the storm, he answers his captain, "ay--e. ay--e;" and in the
command of the officer to his troops, when, amid the thunder of artillery,
he gives the order, "ma--rch," or "ha--lt."
This fullness or roundness of tone is secured, by dwelling on the vocal
sound, and indefinitely protracting it, The mouth should be opened wide,
the tongue kept down, and the aperture left as round and as free for the
voice as possible.
It is this artificial rotundity which, in connection with a distinct
articulation, enables one who speaks in the open air, or in a very large
apartment, to send his voice to the most distant point. It is a certain
degree of this quality, which distinguishes declamatory or public speaking
or reading from private conversation, and no one can accomplish much, as a
public speaker, without cultivating it. It must be carefully distinguished
from the "high tone," which is an elevation of pitch, and from "loudness."
or "strength" of voice.
It will be observed that clearness and distinctness of utterance are
secured by a proper use of the subvocals and aspirates--these sounds
giving to words their shape, as it were; but a clear, full, and
well-modulated utterance of the vocals gives to words their fullness.
LONG QUANTITY. (49)
1. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!
2. Woe, woe, to the inhabitants of Jerusalem!
3. O righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found a grave,
Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save?
Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God?
4. O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay;
Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,
Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
5. O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast
set thy glory above the heavens! When I consider thy heavens, the work of
thy fingers; the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is
man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest
him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast
crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over
the work of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet. O Lord,
our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!
MEDIUM QUANTITY. (50)
1. Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose;
The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
2. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing!
Thy home is high in heaven,
Where the wide storms their banners fling,
And the tempest clouds are driven.
3. At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk lay dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power.
4. On New Year's night, an old man stood at his window, and looked, with a
glance of fearful despair, up the immovable, unfading heaven, and down
upon the still, pure, white earth, on which no one was now so joyless and
sleepless as he.
SHORT QUANTITY. (51)
1. Quick! or he faints! stand with the cordial near!
2. Back to thy punishment, false fugitive!
3. Fret till your proud heart breaks! Must I observe you? Must I crouch
beneath your testy humor?
4. Up drawbridge, grooms! what, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall!
5. Quick, man the lifeboat! see yon bark,
That drives before the blast!
There's a rock ahead, the fog is dark,
And the storm comes thick and fast.
6. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and
though, perhaps, I may have some ambition to please this gentleman, I
shall not by myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his
diction, or his mien, however matured by age or modeled by experience.
MOVEMENT. (51)
Movement is the rapidity with which the voice moves in reading and
speaking. It varies with the nature of the thought or sentiment to be
expressed, and should be increased or diminished as good taste may
determine. With pupils generally, the tendency is to read too fast. The
result is, reading or speaking in too high a key and an unnatural style of
delivery--both of which faults are difficult to be corrected when once
formed. The kinds of movement are Slow, Moderate, and Quick.
DIRECTIONS.--Read a selection as slowly us possible, without drawling.
Read it again and again, increasing the rate of movement at each reading,
until it can be read no faster without the utterance becoming indistinct.
Reverse this process, reading more and more slowly at each repetition,
until the slowest movement is obtained.
SLOW MOVEMENT. (52)
1. Oh that those lips had language! Life has passed
With me but roughly, since I heard them last.
2. A tremulous sigh from the gentle night wind
Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping,
While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard; for the army is sleeping.
3. O Lord'! have mercy upon us, miserable offenders'!
4. So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
MODERATE MOVEMENT. (52)
1. The good', the brave', the beautiful',
How dreamless' is their sleep,
Where rolls the dirge-like music'
Of the over-tossing deep'!
Or where the surging night winds
Pale Winter's robes have spread
Above the narrow palaces,
In the cities of the dead'!
2. Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.
3. Cast your eyes over this extensive country. Observe the salubrity of
your climate, the variety and fertility of your soil; and see that soil
intersected in every quarter by bold, navigable streams, flowing to the
east and to the west, as if the finger of heaven were marking out the
course of your settlements, inviting you to enterprise, and pointing the
way to wealth.
QUICK MOVEMENT. (53)
1. Awake'! arise'! or be forever fallen.
2. Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name.
3. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace--
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the check strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
4. Oh my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring morning
upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees
budding, birds singing, the park so gay, that I took a leap out of your
balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and chased them all
around the park to get an appetite for breakfast, while you were snoring
in bed, uncle.
Quality.--We notice a difference between the soft, insinuating tones of
persuasion; the full, strong voice of command and decision; the harsh,
irregular, and sometimes grating explosion of the sounds of passion; the
plaintive notes of sorrow and pity; and the equable and unimpassioned flow
of words in argumentative style. This difference consists in a variation
in the quality of the voice by which it is adapted to the character of the
thought or sentiment read or spoken. In our attempts to imitate nature,
however, it is important that all affectation be avoided, for perfect
monotony is preferable to this fault. The tones of the voice should be
made to correspond with the nature of the subject, without apparent
effort.
EXAMPLES. (54)
Passion and Grief
"Come back! come back!" he cried, in grief,
"Across this stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! O, my daughter!"
Plaintive
I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have.
Calm
A very great portion of this globe is covered
with water, which is called sea, and is very
distinct from rivers and lakes.
Fierce Anger
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire;
And--"This to me!" he said,--
"An 't were not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
Loud and Explosive
"Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near,
I tell thee, thou 'rt defied!
And if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"
VI. GESTURE. (55)
Gesture is that part of the speaker's manner which pertains to his
attitude, to the use and carriage of his person, and the movement of his
limbs in delivery.
Every person, in beginning to speak, feels the natural embarrassment
resulting from his new position. The novelty of the situation destroys his
self-possession, and, with the loss of that, he becomes awkward, his arms
and hands hang clumsily, and now, for the first time, seem to him worse
than superfluous members. This embarrassment will be overcome gradually,
as the speaker becomes familiar with his position; and it is sometimes
overcome at once, by a powerful exercise of the attention upon the matter
of the speech. When that fills and possesses the mind, the orator is
likely to take the attitude which is becoming, and, at least, easy and
natural, if not graceful.
1st. The first general direction that should be given to the speaker is,
that he should stand erect and firm, and in that posture which gives an
expanded chest and full play to the organs of respiration and utterance.
2d. Let the attitude be such that it can be shifted easily and gracefully.
The student will find, by trial, that no attitude is so favorable to this
end as that in which the weight of the body is thrown upon one leg,
leaving the other free to be advanced or thrown back, as fatigue or the
proper action of delivery may require.
The student who has any regard to grace or elegance, will of course avoid
all the gross faults which are so common among public speakers, such as
resting one foot upon a stool or bench, or throwing the body forward upon
the support of the rostrum.
3d. Next to attitude, come the movements of the person and limbs. In
these, two objects are to be observed, and, if possible, combined, viz.,
propriety and grace. There is expression in the extended arm, the clinched
hand, the open palm, and the smiting of the breast. But let no gesture be
made that is not in harmony with the thought or sentiment uttered; for it
is this harmony which constitutes propriety. As far as possible, let there
be a correspondence between the style of action and the train of thought.
Where the thought flows on calmly, let there be grace and ease in gesture
and action. Where the style is sharp and abrupt, there is propriety in
quick, short, and abrupt gesticulation. Especially avoid that ungraceful
sawing of the air with the arms, into which all ill-regulated fervor
betrays many young speakers.
What is called graceful manner, can only be attained by those who have
some natural advantages of person. So far as it is in the reach of study
or practice, it seems to depend chiefly upon the general cultivation of
manners, implying freedom from all embarrassments, and entire
self-possession. The secret of acquiring a graceful style of gesture,
we apprehend, lies in the habitual practice, not only when speaking but
at all times, of free and graceful movements of the limbs.
There is no limb nor feature which the accomplished speaker will not
employ with effect, in the course of a various and animated delivery. The
arms, however, are the chief reliance of the orator in gesture; and it
will not be amiss to give a hint or two in reference to their proper use.
First--It is not an uncommon fault to use one arm exclusively, and to give
that a uniform movement. Such movement may, sometimes, have become
habitual from one's profession or employment; but in learners, also, there
is often a predisposition to this fault.
Second--It is not unusual to see a speaker use only the lower half of his
arm. This always gives a stiff and constrained manner to delivery. Let the
whole arm move, and let the movement be free and flowing.
Third--As a general rule, let the hand be open, with the fingers slightly
curved. It then seems liberal, communicative, and candid; and, in some
degree, gives that expression to the style of delivery. Of course there
are passages which require the clinched hand, the pointed finger, etc.,
etc.; but these are used to give a particular expression.
Fourth--In the movements of the arm, study variety and the grace of curved
lines.
When a gesture is made with one arm only, the eye should be cast in the
direction of that arm; not at it, but over it.
All speakers employ, more or less, the motions of the head. In reference
to that member, we make but one observation. Avoid the continuous shaking
and bobbing of the head, which is so conspicuous in the action of many
ambitious public speakers.
The beauty and force of all gesture consist in its timely, judicious, and
natural employment, when it can serve to illustrate the meaning or give
emphasis to the force of an important passage. The usual fault of young
speakers is too much action. To emphasize all parts alike, is equivalent
to no emphasis; and by employing forcible gestures on unimportant
passages, we diminish our power to render other parts impressive.
ELOCUTION AND READING. (57)
The business of training youth in elocution, must be commenced in
childhood. The first school is the nursery. There, at least, may be formed
a distinct articulation, which is the first requisite for good speaking.
How rarely is it found in perfection among our orators.
"Words," says one, referring to articulation, should "be delivered out
from the lips, as beautiful coins, newly issued from the mint; deeply and
accurately impressed, perfectly finished; neatly struck by the proper
organs, distinct, in due succession, and of due weight." How rarely do we
hear a speaker whose tongue, teeth, and lips, do their office so perfectly
as to answer to this beautiful description! And the common faults in
articulation, it should be remembered, take their rise from the very
nursery.
Grace in eloquence, in the pulpit, at the bar, can not be separated from
grace in the ordinary manners, in private life, in the social circle, in
the family. It can not well be superinduced upon all the other
acquisitions of youth, any more than that nameless, but invaluable,
quality called good breeding. Begin, therefore, the work of forming the
orator with the child; not merely by teaching him to declaim, but what is
of more consequence, by observing and correcting his daily manners,
motions, and attitudes. You can say, when he comes into your apartment, or
presents you with something, a book or letter, in an awkward and
blundering manner, "Return, and enter this room again," or, "Present me
that book in a different manner," or, "Put yourself in a different
attitude." You can explain to him the difference between thrusting or
pushing out his hand and arm, in straight lines and at acute angles, and
moving them in flowing circular lines, and easy graceful action. He will
readily understand you. Nothing is more true than that the motions of
children are originally graceful; it is by suffering them to be perverted,
that we lay the foundation of invincible awkwardness in later life.
In schools for children, it ought to be a leading object to teach the art
of reading. It ought to occupy threefold more time than it does. The
teachers of these schools should labor to improve themselves. They should
feel that to them, for a time, are committed the future orators of the
land.
It is better that a girl should return from school a first-rate reader,
than a first-rate performer on the pianoforte. The accomplishment, in its
perfection, would give more pleasure. The voice of song is not sweeter
than the voice of eloquence; and there may be eloquent readers, as well as
eloquent speakers. We speak of perfection in this art: and it is
something, we must say in defense of our preference, which we have never
yet seen. Let the same pains be devoted to reading, as are required to
form an accomplished performer on an instrument; let us have, as the
ancients had, the formers of the voice, the music masters of the reading
voice; let us see years devoted to this accomplishment, and then we should
be prepared to stand the comparison.
Reading is indeed, a most intellectual accomplishment. So is music, too,
in its perfection. We do by no means undervalue this noble and most
delightful art, to which Socrates applied himself even in his old age. But
one recommendation of the art of reading is, that it requires a constant
exercise of mind. It involves, in its perfection, the whole art of
criticism on language. A man may possess a fine genius without being a
perfect reader; but he can not be a perfect reader without genius.
ON MODULATION. (59)
FROM LLOYD.
'T is not enough the voice' be sound and clear',
'T is modulation' that must charm the ear.
When desperate heroes grieve with tedious moan,
And whine their sorrows in a seesaw tone,
The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes,
Can only make the yawning hearers doze.
The voice all modes of passion can express
That marks the proper word with proper stress:
But none emphatic can that speaker call,
Who lays an equal emphasis on all.
Some o'er the tongue the labored measure roll,
Slow and deliberate as the parting toll;
Point every stop, mark every pause so strong,
Their words like stage processions stalk along.
All affectation but creates disgust;
And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just.
In vain for them' the pleasing measure flows,
Whose recitation runs it all to prose:
Repeating what the poet sets not down,
The verb disjointing from its favorite noun,
While pause, and break, and repetition join
To make it discord in each tuneful line'.
Some' placid natures fill the allotted scene
With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene;
While others' thunder every couplet o'er,
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar;
More nature oft, and finer strokes are shown
In the low whisper than tempestuous tone;
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze,
More powerful terror to the mind conveys
Than he, who, swollen with impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage.
He who, in earnest studies o'er his part,
Will find true nature cling about his heart.
The modes of grief are not included all
In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl:
A single look' more marks the internal woe,
Than all the windings of the lengthened Oh'!
MCGUFFEY'S SIXTH READER. (61)
MCGUFFEY'S SIXTH READER. (63)
SELECTIONS FOR READING.
I. ANECDOTE OF THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.
A laughable story was circulated during the administration of the old Duke
of Newcastle, and retailed to the public in various forms. This nobleman,
with many good points, was remarkable for being profuse of his promises on
all occasions, and valued himself particularly on being able to anticipate
the words or the wants of the various persons who attended his levees,
before they uttered a word. This sometimes led him into ridiculous
embarrassment; and it was this proneness to lavish promises, which gave
occasion for the following anecdote:
At the election of a certain borough in Cornwall, where the opposite
interests were almost equally poised, a single vote was of the highest
importance. This object the Duke, by well applied argument and personal
application, at length attained; and the gentleman he recommended, gained
the election. In the warmth of gratitude, his grace poured forth
acknowledgments and promises without ceasing, on the fortunate possessor
of the casting vote; called him his best and dearest friend; protested,
that he should consider himself as forever indebted to him; and that he
would serve him by night or by day.
The Cornish voter, who was an honest fellow, and would not have thought
himself entitled to any reward, but for such a torrent of acknowledgments,
thanked the Duke for his kindness, and told him the supervisor of excise
was old and infirm, and, if he would have the goodness to recommend his
son-in-law to the commissioners, in case of the old man's death, he should
think himself and his family bound to render his grace every assistance in
their power, on any future occasion.
"My dear friend, why do you ask for such a trifling employment?" exclaimed
his grace; "your relative shall have it the moment the place is vacant, if
you will but call my attention to it."
"But how shall I get admitted to you, my lord? For in London, I
understand, it is a very difficult business to get a sight of you great
folks, though you are so kind and complaisant to us in the country."
"The instant the man dies," replied the Duke, "set out posthaste for
London; drive directly to my house, and, be it by night or by day, thunder
at the door; I will leave word with my porter to show you upstairs
directly; and the employment shall be disposed of according to your
wishes."
The parties separated; the Duke drove to a friend's house in the
neighborhood, without a wish or desire to see his new acquaintance till
that day seven years; but the memory of the Cornish elector, not being
burdened with such a variety of objects, was more retentive. The
supervisor died a few months after, and the Duke's humble friend, relying
on the word of a peer, was conveyed to London posthaste, and ascended with
alacrity the steps of that nobleman's palace.
The reader should be informed, that just at this time, no less a person
than the King of Spain was expected hourly to depart this life, an event
in which the minister of Great Britain was particularly concerned; and the
Duke of Newcastle, on the very night that the proprietor of the decisive
vote arrived at his door, had sat up anxiously expecting dispatches from
Madrid. Wearied by official business and agitated spirits, he retired to
rest, having previously given particular instructions to his porter not to
go to bed, as he expected every minute a messenger with advices of the
greatest importance, and desired that he might be shown upstairs, the
moment of his arrival.
His grace was sound asleep; and the porter, settled for the night in his
armchair, had already commenced a sonorous nap, when the vigorous arm of
the Cornish voter roused him from his slumbers. To his first question, "Is
the Duke at home?" the porter replied, "Yes, and in bed; but has left
particular orders that, come when you will, you are to go up to him
directly."
"Bless him, for a worthy and honest gentleman," cried our applicant for
the vacant post, smiling and nodding with approbation at the prime
minister's kindness, "how punctual his grace is; I knew he would not
deceive me; let me hear no more of lords and dukes not keeping their
words; I verily believe they are as honest, and mean as well as any other
folks." Having ascended the stairs as he was speaking, he was ushered into
the Duke's bedchamber.
"Is he dead?" exclaimed his grace, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awakened
from dreaming of the King of Spain, "Is he dead?"
"Yes, my lord," replied the eager expectant, delighted to find the
election promise, with all its circumstances, so fresh in the nobleman's
memory.
"When did he die?"
"The day before yesterday, exactly at half past one o'clock, after being
confined three weeks to his bed, and taking a power of doctor's stuff; and
I hope your grace will be as good as your word, and let my son-in-law
succeed him."
The Duke, by this time perfectly awake, was staggered at the impossibility
of receiving intelligence from Madrid in so short a space of time; and
perplexed at the absurdity of a king's messenger applying for his
son-in-law to succeed the King of Spain: "Is the man drunk, or mad? Where
are your dispatches?" exclaimed his grace, hastily drawing back his
curtain; where, instead of a royal courier, he recognized at the bedside,
the fat, good-humored countenance of his friend from Cornwall, making low
bows, with hat in hand, and "hoping my lord would not forget the gracious
promise he was so good as to make, in favor of his son-in-law, at the last
election."
Vexed at so untimely a disturbance, and disappointed of news from Spain,
the Duke frowned for a moment; but chagrin soon gave way to mirth, at so
singular and ridiculous a combination of circumstances, and, yielding to
the impulse, he sunk upon the bed in a violent fit of laughter, which was
communicated in a moment to the attendants.
The relater of this little narrative, concludes, with observing, "Although
the Duke of Newcastle could not place the relative of his old acquaintance
on the throne of His Catholic Majesty, he advanced him to a post not less
honorable--he made him an exciseman."
--Blackwood's Magazine.
[Illustration: Bedroom: The Duke is startled awake, sitting up in bed with
distressed look on his face. A servant is holding a candlestick. A third
man is slightly bowed and holding his hat in his hands. The duke's sword
rests against a chair at the foot of the bed.]
Notes.--Duke of Newcastle.--Thomas Holles Pelham (b. 1693, d. 1768), one
of the chief ministers of state in the reign of George II. of England.
Cornwall.--A county forming the extreme southwestern part of England.
King of Spain.--Ferdinand VI. was then the king of Spain. He died in 1759.
His Catholic Majesty, a title applied to the kings of Spain; first given
to Alfonso I. by Pope Gregory III. in 739.
II. THE NEEDLE. (67)
The gay belles of fashion may boast of excelling
In waltz or cotillon, at whist or quadrille;
And seek admiration by vauntingly telling
Of drawing, and painting, and musical skill:
But give me the fair one, in country or city,
Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart,
Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty,
While plying the needle with exquisite art:
The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle,
The needle directed by beauty and art.
If Love have a potent, a magical token,
A talisman, ever resistless and true,
A charm that is never evaded or broken,
A witchery certain the heart to subdue,
'T is this; and his armory never has furnished
So keen and unerring, or polished a dart;
Let beauty direct it, so polished and burnished,
And oh! it is certain of touching the heart:
The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle,
The needle directed by beauty and art.
Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiration,
By dressing for conquest, and flirting with all;
You never, whate'er be your fortune or station,
Appear half so lovely at rout or at ball,
As gayly convened at the work-covered table,
Each cheerfully active, playing her part,
Beguiling the task with a song or a fable,
And plying the needle with exquisite art:
The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle,
The needle directed by beauty and art.
--Samuel Woodworth.
III. DAWN. (68)
Edward Everett, 1794-1865. He was born at Dorchester, Mass., now a part of
Boston, and graduated from Harvard College with the highest honors of his
class, at the age of seventeen. While yet in college, he had quite a
reputation as a brilliant writer. Before he was twenty years of age, he
was settled as pastor over the Brattle Street Church, in Boston, and at
once became famous as an eloquent preacher. In 1814, he was elected
Professor of Greek Literature in his Alma Mater; and, in order to prepare
himself for the duties of his office, he entered on an extended course of
travel in Europe. He edited the "North American Review," in addition to
the labors of his professorship, after he returned to America.
In 1825, Mr. Everett was elected to Congress, and held his seat in the
House for ten years. He was Governor of his native state from 1835 to
1839. In 1841, he was appointed Minister to England. On his return, in
1846, he was chosen President of Harvard University, and held the office
for three years. In 1852, he was appointed Secretary of State. February
22, 1856, he delivered, in Boston, his celebrated lecture on Washington.
This lecture was afterwards delivered in most of the principal cities and
towns in the United States. The proceeds were devoted to the purchase of
Mt. Vernon. In 1860, he was a candidate for the Vice Presidency of the
United States, He is celebrated as an elegant and forcible writer, and a
chaste orator.
This extract, a wonderful piece of word painting, is a portion of an
address on the "Uses of Astronomy," delivered at the inauguration of the
Dudley Observatory, at Albany, N, Y, Note the careful use of words, and
the strong figures in the third and fourth paragraphs.
###
I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the early train from Providence
to Boston; and for this purpose rose at two o'clock in the morning.
Everything around was wrapped in darkness and hushed in silence, broken
only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly clank and rush of the
train. It was a mild, serene, midsummer's night,--the sky was without a
cloud, the winds were whist. The moon, then in the last quarter, had just
risen, and the stars shone with a spectral luster but little affected by
her presence.
Jupiter, two hours high, was the herald of the day; the Pleiades, just
above the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east; Lyra sparkled
near the zenith; Andromeda veiled her newly-discovered glories from the
naked eye in the south; the steady Pointers, far beneath the pole, looked
meekly up from the depths of the north to their sovereign.
Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As we proceeded,
the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible; the intense blue
of the sky began to soften; the smaller stars, like little children, went
first to rest; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but
the bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged.
Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on. Hands of angels, hidden
from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens; the glories of night
dissolved into the glories of the dawn.
The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the great watch stars shut up
their holy eyes; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon
blushed along the sky; the whole celestial concave was filled with the
inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above
in one great ocean of radiance; till at length, as we reached the Blue
Hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and
turned the dewy teardrops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In
a few seconds, the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open,
and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man,
began his state.
I do not wonder at the superstition of the ancient Magians, who, in the
morning of the world, went up to the hilltops of Central Asia, and,
ignorant of the true God, adored the most glorious work of his hand. But I
am filled with amazement, when I am told, that, in this enlightened age
and in the heart of the Christian world, there are persons who can witness
this daily manifestation of the power and wisdom of the Creator, and yet
say in their hearts, "There is no God."
Notes.--Jupiter, the largest planet of the solar system, and, next to
Venus, the brightest. Pleiades (pro. ple'ya-dez), a group of seven small
stars in the constellation of Taurus.
Lyra, Androm'eda, two brilliant constellations in the northern part of the
heavens. Pointers, two stars of the group called the Dipper, in the Great
Bear. These stars and the Polar Star are nearly in the same straight line.
Blue Hills, hills about seven hundred feet high, southwest of Boston,
Massachusetts.
Magians, Persian worshipers of fire and the sun, as representatives of the
Supreme Being.
IV. DESCRIPTION OF A STORM. (70)
Benjamin Disraeli. 1805-1881, was of Jewish descent. His ancestors were
driven out of Spain by the Inquisition, and went to Venice. In 1748, his
grandfather came to England. His father was Isaac Disraeli, well known as
a literary man. Benjamin was born in London, and received his early
education under his father. He afterwards studied for a lawyer, but soon
gave up his profession for literature. His first novel, "Vivian Grey,"
appeared when the author was twenty-one years of age; it received much
attention. After several defeats he succeeded in an election to
Parliament, and took his seat in that body, in the first year of
Victoria's reign. On his first attempt to speak in Parliament, the House
refused to hear him. It is said that, as he sat down, he remarked that the
time would come when they would hear him. In 1849, he became the leader of
the Conservative party in the House. During the administration of W. E.
Gladstone, Mr. Disraeli was leader of the opposition. In 1868, he became
prime minister, holding the office for a short time. In 1874, he was again
appointed to the same office, where he remained until 1880. His wife was
made Viscountess of Beaconsfield in 1868. After her death, the title of
Earl of Beaconsfield was conferred on Disraeli. He ranked among the most
eminent, statesmen of the age, but always devoted a portion of his time to
literature. "Lothair," a novel, was published in 1870.
###
* * * They looked round on every side, and hope gave way before the scene
of desolation. Immense branches were shivered from the largest trees;
small ones were entirely stripped of their leaves; the long grass was
bowed to the earth; the waters were whirled in eddies out of the little
rivulets; birds, leaving their nests to seek shelter in the crevices of
the rocks, unable to stem the driving air, flapped their wings and fell
upon the earth; the frightened animals of the plain, almost suffocated by
the impetuosity of the wind, sought safety and found destruction; some of
the largest trees were torn up by the roots; the sluices of the mountains
were filled, and innumerable torrents rushed down the before empty
gullies. The heavens now open, and the lightning and thunder contend with
the horrors of the wind.
In a moment, all was again hushed. Dead silence succeeded the bellow of
the thunder, the roar of the wind, the rush of the waters, the moaning of
the beasts, the screaming of the birds. Nothing was heard save the plash
of the agitated lake, as it beat up against the black rocks which girt it
in.
Again, greater darkness enveloped the trembling earth. Anon, the heavens
were rent with lightning, which nothing could have quenched but the
descending deluge. Cataracts poured down from the lowering firmament. For
an instant, the horses dashed madly forward; beast and rider blinded and
stifled by the gushing rain, and gasping for breath. Shelter was nowhere.
The quivering beasts reared, and snorted, and sank upon their knees,
dismounting their riders.
He had scarcely spoken, when there burst forth a terrific noise, they knew
not what; a rush, they could not understand; a vibration which shook them
on their horses. Every terror sank before the roar of the cataract. It
seemed that the mighty mountain, unable to support its weight of waters,
shook to the foundation. A lake had burst upon its summit, and the
cataract became a falling ocean. The source of the great deep appeared to
be discharging itself over the range of mountains; the great gray peak
tottered on its foundation!--It shook!--it fell! and buried in its ruins
the castle, the village, and the bridge!
V. AFTER THE THUNDERSTORM. (72)
James Thomson, 1700-1748, the son of a clergyman, was born in Scotland. He
studied at the University of Edinburgh, and intended to follow the
profession of his father, but never entered upon the duties of the sacred
office. In 1724 he went to London, where he spent most of his subsequent
life. He had shown some poetical talent when it boy; and, in 1826, he
published "Winter," a part of a longer poem, entitled "The Seasons," the
best known of all his works. He also wrote several plays for the stage;
none of them, however, achieved any great success. In the last year of his
life, he published his "Castle of Indolence," the most famous of his works
excepting "The Seasons." Thomson was heavy and dull in his personal
appearance, and was indolent in his habits. The moral tone of his writings
is always good. This extract is from "The Seasons."
###
As from the face of heaven the shattered clouds
Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky
Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands
A purer azure.
Through the lightened air
A higher luster and a clearer calm,
Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign
Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy,
Set off abundant by the yellow ray,
Invests the fields; and nature smiles revived.
'T is beauty all, and grateful song around,
Joined to the low of kine, and numerous bleat
Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clovered vale:
And shall the hymn be marred by thankless man,
Most favored; who, with voice articulate,
Should lead the chorus of this lower world?
Shall man, so soon forgetful of the Hand
That hushed the thunder, and serenes the sky,
Extinguished fed that spark the tempest waked,
That sense of powers exceeding far his own,
Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?
VI. HOUSE CLEANING. (73)
Francis Hopkinson, 1737-1791. He was the son of an Englishman; born in
Philadelphia, and was educated at the college of that city, now the
University of Pennsylvania. He represented New Jersey in the Congress of
1776, and was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He
was one of the most sensible and elegant writers of his time, and
distinguished himself both in prose and verse. His lighter writings abound
in humor and keen satire; his more solid writings are marked by clearness
and good sense. His pen did much to forward the cause of American
independence. His "Essay on Whitewashing," from which the following
extract is taken, was mistaken for the composition of Dr. Franklin, and
published among his writings, It was originally in the form of "A Letter
from a Gentleman in America to his Friend in Europe, on Whitewashing."
###
There is no season of the year in which the lady may not, if she pleases,
claim her privilege; but the latter end of May is generally fixed upon for
the purpose. The attentive husband may judge, by certain prognostics, when
the storm is at hand. If the lady grows uncommonly fretful, finds fault
with the servants, is discontented with the children, and complains much
of the nastiness of everything about her, these are symptoms which ought
not to be neglected, yet they sometimes go off without any further effect.
But if, when the husband rises in the morning, he should observe in the
yard a wheelbarrow with a quantity of lime in it, or should see certain
buckets filled with a solution of lime in water, there is no time for
hesitation. He immediately locks up the apartment or closet where his
papers and private property are kept, and, putting the key into his
pocket, betakes himself to flight. A husband, however beloved, becomes a
perfect nuisance during this season of female rage. His authority is
superseded, his commission suspended, and the very scullion who cleans the
brasses in the kitchen becomes of more importance than he. He has nothing
for it but to abdicate for a time, and run from an evil which he can
neither prevent nor mollify.
The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The walls are stripped of their
furniture--paintings, prints, and looking-glasses lie huddled in heaps
about the floors; the curtains are torn from their testers, the beds
crammed into windows, chairs and tables, bedsteads and cradles, crowd the
yard, and the garden fence bends beneath the weight of carpets, blankets,
cloth cloaks, old coats, under petticoats, and ragged breeches. Here may
be seen the lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused mass for
the foreground of the picture; gridirons and frying pans, rusty shovels
and broken tongs, joint stools, and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed
chairs. There a closet has disgorged its bowels--riveted plates and
dishes, halves of china bowls, cracked tumblers, broken wineglasses,
phials of forgotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds and dried
herbs, tops of teapots, and stoppers of departed decanters--from the rag
hole in the garret, to the rat hole in the cellar, no place escapes
unrummaged. It would seem as if the day of general doom had come, and the
utensils of the house were dragged forth to judgment.
In this tempest, the words of King Lear unavoidably present themselves,
and might, with little alteration, be made strictly applicable.
"Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipp'd of justice.
Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace."
This ceremony completed, and the house thoroughly evacuated, the next
operation is to smear the walls and ceilings with brushes dipped into a
solution of lime, called whitewash; to pour buckets of water over every
floor; and scratch all the partitions and wainscots with hard brushes,
charged with soft soap and stonecutters' sand.
The windows by no means escape the general deluge. A servant scrambles out
upon the penthouse, at the risk of her neck, and, with a mug in her hand
and a bucket within reach, dashes innumerable gallons of water against the
glass panes, to the great annoyance of passengers in the street.
I have been told that an action at law was once brought against one of
these water nymphs, by a person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by
this operation: but after long argument, it was determined that no damages
could be awarded; inasmuch as the defendant was in the exercise of a legal
right, and not answerable for the consequences. And so the poor gentleman
was doubly non-suited; for he lost both his suit of clothes and his suit
at law.
These smearings and scratchings, these washings and dashings, being duly
performed, the next ceremonial is to cleanse and replace the distracted
furniture. You may have seen a house raising, or a ship launch--
recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, confusion, and noise of such a
scene, and you will have some idea of this cleansing match. The misfortune
is, that the sole object is to make things clean. It matters not how many
useful, ornamental, or valuable articles suffer mutilation or death under
the operation. A mahogany chair and a carved frame undergo the same
discipline; they are to be made clean at all events; but their
preservation is not worthy of attention.
For instance: a fine large engraving is laid flat upon the floor; a number
of smaller prints are piled upon it, until the superincumbent weight
cracks the lower glass--but this is of no importance. A valuable picture
is placed leaning against the sharp corner of a table; others are made to
lean against that, till the pressure of the whole forces the corner of the
table through the canvas of the first. The frame and glass of a fine print
are to be cleaned; the spirit and oil used on this occasion are suffered
to leak through and deface the engraving--no matter. If the glass is clean
and the frame shines, it is sufficient--the rest is not worthy of
consideration. An able arithmetician hath made a calculation, founded on
long experience, and proved that the losses and destruction incident to
two white washings are equal to one removal, and three removals equal to
one fire.
This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume their pristine
appearance: the storm abates, and all would be well again; but it is
impossible that so great a convulsion in so small a community should pass
over without producing some consequences. For two or three weeks after the
operation, the family are usually afflicted with sore eyes, sore throats,
or severe colds, occasioned by exhalations from wet floors and damp walls.
I know a gentleman here who is fond of accounting for everything in a
philosophical way. He considers this, what I call a custom, as a real
periodical disease peculiar to the climate. His train of reasoning is
whimsical and ingenious, but I am not at leisure to give you the detail.
The result was, that he found the distemper to be incurable; but after
much study, he thought he had discovered a method to divert the evil he
could not subdue. For this purpose, he caused a small building, about
twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and furnished with some
ordinary chairs and tables, and a few prints of the cheapest sort. His
hope was, that when the whitewashing frenzy seized the females of his
family, they might repair to this apartment, and scrub, and scour, and
smear to their hearts' content; and so spend the violence of the disease
in this outpost, whilst he enjoyed himself in quiet at headquarters. But
the experiment did not answer his expectation. It was impossible it
should, since a principal part of the gratification consists in the lady's
having an uncontrolled right to torment her husband at least once in every
year; to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of government into her
own hands.
There is a much better contrivance than this of the philosopher's; which
is, to cover the walls of the house with paper. This is generally done.
And though it does not abolish, it at least shortens the period of female
dominion. This paper is decorated with various fancies; and made so
ornamental that the women have admitted the fashion without perceiving the
design.
There is also another alleviation to the husband's distress. He generally
has the sole use of a small room or closet for his books and papers, the
key of which he is allowed to keep. This is considered as a privileged
place, even in the whitewashing season, and stands like the land of Goshen
amidst the plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and
ever upon his guard; for, should he inadvertently go abroad and leave the
key in his door, the housemaid, who is always on the watch for such an
opportunity, immediately enters in triumph with buckets, brooms, and
brushes--takes possession of the premises, and forthwith puts an his books
and papers "to rights," to his utter confusion, and sometimes serious
detriment.
Notes.--Lear.--The reference is to Shakespeare's tragedy, Act III, Scene
2.
Goshen.--The portion of Egypt settled by Jacob and his family. In the
Bible, Exodus viii, 22, Goshen was exempted from the plague of the flies.
The teacher should ascertain that the pupils note the satire and humor of
this selection.
This letter was written about a hundred years ago. What word in the first
paragraph that would probably not be used by an elegant writer of the
present day? Note the words that indicate changes in domestic customs;
such as testers, joint stools, wainscots, house raising.
VII. SCHEMES OF LIFE OFTEN ILLUSORY. (78)
Samuel Johnson, 1700-1784. This truly remarkable man was the son of a
bookseller and stationer; he was born in Lichfield, Staffordshire,
England. He entered Pembroke College, Oxford, in 1728; but, at the end of
three years, his poverty compelled him to leave without taking his degree.
In 1736, he married Mrs. Porter, a widow of little culture, much older
than himself, but possessed of some property. The marriage seems to have
been a happy one, nevertheless; and, on the death of his wife, in 1752,
Johnson mourned for her, most sincerely. Soon after his marriage, he
opened a private school, but, obtained only three pupils, one of whom was
David Garrick, afterward the celebrated actor. In 1737, he removed to
London, where he lived for most of the remainder of his life. Here he
entered upon literary work, in which he continued, and from which he
derived his chief support, although at times it was but a meager one, His
"Vanity of Human Wishes" was sold for ten guineas. His great Dictionary,
the first one of the English language worthy of mention, brought him
1575 Pounds, and occupied his time for seven years. Most of the money he
received for the work went to pay his six amanuenses. The other most
famous of his numerous literary works are "The Rambler," "Rasselas," "The
Lives of the English Poets," and his edition of Shakespeare. In person,
Johnson was heavy and awkward; he was the victim of scrofula in his youth,
and of dropsy in his old age. In manner, he was boorish and overbearing;
but his great powers and his wisdom caused his company to be sought by
many eminent men of his time.
###
Omar, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy-five years in honor and
prosperity. The favor of three successive caliphs had filled his house
with gold and silver; and whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the
people proclaimed his passage.
Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance, The brightness of the flame
is wasting its fuel; the fragrant flower is passing away in its own odors.
The vigor of Omar began to fail; the curls of beauty fell from his head;
strength departed from his hands, and agility from his feet. He gave back
to the caliph the keys of trust, and the seals of secrecy; and sought no
other pleasure for the remainder of life than the converse of the wise and
the gratitude of the good.
The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by
visitants, eager to catch the dictates of experience, and officious to pay
the tribute of admiration. Caleb, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, entered
every day early, and retired late. He was beautiful and eloquent; Omar
admired his wit, and loved his docility.
"Tell me," said Caleb, "thou to whose voice nations have listened, and
whose wisdom is known to the extremities of Asia, tell me, how I may
resemble Omar the prudent? The arts by which thou hast gained power and
preserved it, are to thee no longer necessary or useful; impart to me the
secret of thy conduct, and teach me the plan upon which thy wisdom has
built thy fortune."
"Young man," said Omar, "it is of little use to form plans of life. When I
took my first survey of the world, in my twentieth year, having considered
the various conditions of mankind, in the hour of solitude I said thus to
myself, leaning against a cedar which spread its branches over my head:
'Seventy years are allowed to man; I have yet fifty remaining.
" 'Ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and ten I will
pass in foreign countries; I shall be learned, and therefore I shall be
honored; every city will shout at my arrival, and every student will
solicit my friendship. Twenty years thus passed will store my mind with
images which I shall be busy through the rest of my life in combining and
comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellectual
riches; I shall find new pleasures for every moment, and shall never more
be weary of myself.
" 'I will not, however, deviate too far from the beaten track of life; but
will try what can be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife as
beautiful as the houries, and wise as Zobeide; and with her I will live
twenty years within the suburbs of Bagdad, in every pleasure that wealth
can purchase, and fancy can invent.
" 'I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my days in obscurity and
contemplation; and lie silently down on the bed of death. Through my life
it shall be my settled resolution, that I will never depend on the smile
of princes; that I will never stand exposed to the artifices of courts; I
will never pant for public honors, nor disturb my quiet with the affairs
of state.' Such was my scheme of life, which I impressed indelibly upon my
memory.
"The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of knowledge,
and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no visible
impediments without, nor any ungovernable passion within. I regarded
knowledge as the highest honor, and the most engaging pleasure; yet day
stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven
years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them.
"I now postponed my purpose of traveling; for why should I go abroad,
while so much remained to be learned at home? I immured myself for four
years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached
the judges: I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and I was
commanded to stand at the footstool of the caliph. I was heard with
attention; I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise
fastened on my heart.
"I still wished to see distant countries; listened with rapture to the
relations of travelers, and resolved some time to ask my dismission, that
I might feast my soul with novelty; but my presence was always necessary,
and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes, I was afraid lest
I should be charged with ingratitude; but I still proposed to travel, and
therefore would not confine myself by marriage.
"In my fiftieth year, I began to suspect that the time of my traveling was
past; and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, and
indulge myself in domestic pleasures. But, at fifty, no man easily finds a
woman beautiful as the houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired and
rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made me
ashamed of wishing to marry. I had now nothing left but retirement; and
for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from public
employment.
"Such was my scheme, and such has been its consequence. With an insatiable
thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of improvement; with a
restless desire of seeing different countries, I have always resided in
the same city; with the highest expectation of connubial felicity, I have
lived unmarried; and with an unalterable resolution of contemplative
retirement, I am going to die within the walls of Bagdad."
Notes.--Bag dad'--A large city of Asiatic Turkey, on the river Tigris.
In the ninth century, it was the greatest center of Moslem power and
learning.
Zobeide (Zo-bad').--A lady of Bagdad, whose story is given in the "Three
Calendars" of the "Arabian Nights."
In this selection the form of an allegory is used to express a general
truth.
VIII. THE BRAVE OLD OAK. (81)
Henry Fothergill Chorley, 1808-1872. He is known chiefly as a musical
critic and author; for thirty-eight years he was connected with the
"London Athenaeum." His books are mostly novels.
###
A song to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who hath ruled in the greenwood long;
Here's health and renown to his broad green crown,
And his fifty arms so strong.
There's fear in his frown, when the sun goes down,
And the fire in the west fades out;
And he showeth his might on a wild midnight,
When the storms through his branches shout.
In the days of old, when the spring with cold
Had brightened his branches gray,
Through the grass at his feet, crept maidens sweet,
To gather the dews of May.
And on that day, to the rebec gay
They frolicked with lovesome swains;
They are gone, they are dead, in the churchyard laid,
But the tree--it still remains.
He saw rare times when the Christmas chimes
Were a merry sound to hear,
When the Squire's wide hall and the cottage small
Were filled with good English cheer.
Now gold hath the sway we all obey,
And a ruthless king is he;
But he never shall send our ancient friend
To be tossed on the stormy sea.
Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who stands in his pride alone;
And still flourish he, a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are gone.
IX. THE ARTIST SURPRISED. (82)
It may not be known to all the admirers of the genius of Albert Durer,
that that famous engraver was endowed with a "better half," so peevish in
temper, that she was the torment not only of his own life, but also of his
pupils and domestics. Some of the former were cunning enough to purchase
peace for themselves by conciliating the common tyrant, but woe to those
unwilling or unable to offer aught in propitiation. Even the wiser ones
were spared only by having their offenses visited upon a scapegoat.
This unfortunate individual was Samuel Duhobret, a disciple whom Durer had
admitted into his school out of charity. He was employed in painting signs
and the coarser tapestry then used in Germany. He was about forty years of
age, little, ugly, and humpbacked; he was the butt of every ill joke among
his fellow disciples, and was picked out as an object of especial dislike
by Madame Durer. But he bore all with patience, and ate, without
complaint, the scanty crusts given him every day for dinner, while his
companions often fared sumptuously.
Poor Samuel had not a spice of envy or malice in his heart. He would, at
any time, have toiled half the night to assist or serve those who were
wont oftenest to laugh at him, or abuse him loudest for his stupidity.
True, he had not the qualities of social humor or wit, but he was an
example of indefatigable industry. He came to his studies every morning at
daybreak, and remained at work until sunset. Then he retired into his
lonely chamber, and wrought for his own amusement.
Duhobret labored three years in this way, giving himself no time for
exercise or recreation. He said nothing to a single human being of the
paintings he had produced in the solitude of his cell, by the light of his
lamp. But his bodily energies wasted and declined under incessant toil.
There was none sufficiently interested in the poor artist, to mark the
feverish hue of his wrinkled cheek, or the increasing attenuation of his
misshapen frame.
None observed that the uninviting pittance set aside for his midday
repast, remained for several days untouched. Samuel made his appearance
regularly as ever, and bore with the same meekness the gibes of his
fellow-pupils, or the taunts of Madame Durer, and worked with the same
untiring assiduity, though his hands would sometimes tremble, and his eyes
become suffused, a weakness probably owing to the excessive use he had
made of them.
One morning Duhobret was missing at the scene of his daily labors. His
absence created much remark, and many were the jokes passed upon the
occasion. One surmised this, and another that, as the cause of the
phenomenon; and it was finally agreed that the poor fellow must have
worked himself into an absolute skeleton, and taken his final stand in the
glass frame of some apothecary, or been blown away by a puff of wind,
while his door happened to stand open. No on thought of going to his
lodgings to look after him or his remains.
Meanwhile, the object of their mirth was tossing on a bed of sickness.
Disease, which had been slowly sapping the foundations of his strength,
burned in every vein; his eyes rolled and flashed in delirium; his lips,
usually so silent, muttered wild and incoherent words. In his days of
health, poor Duhobret had his dreams, as all artists, rich or poor, will
sometimes have. He had thought that the fruit of many years' labor,
disposed of to advantage, might procure him enough to live, in an
economical way, for the rest of his life. He never anticipated fame or
fortune; the height of his ambition or hope was, to possess a tenement
large enough to shelter him from the inclemencies of the weather, with
means enough to purchase one comfortable meal per day.
Now, alas! however, even that one hope had deserted him. He thought
himself dying, and thought it hard to die without one to look kindly upon
him, without the words of comfort that might soothe his passage to another
world. He fancied his bed surrounded by fiendish faces, grinning at his
sufferings, and taunting his inability to summon power to disperse them.
At length the apparition faded away, and the patient sunk into an
exhausted slumber.
He awoke unrefreshed; it was the fifth day he had lain there neglected.
His mouth was parched; he turned over, and feebly stretched out his hand
toward the earthen pitcher, from which, since the first day of his illness
he had quenched his thirst. Alas! it was empty! Samuel lay for a few
moments thinking what he should do. He knew he must die of want if he
remained there alone; but to whom could he apply for aid?
An idea seemed, at last, to strike him. He arose slowly, and with
difficulty, from the bed, went to the other side of the room, and took up
the picture he had painted last. He resolved to carry it to the shop of a
salesman, and hoped to obtain for it sufficient to furnish him with the
necessaries of life for a week longer. Despair lent him strength to walk,
and to carry his burden. On his way, he passed a house, about which there
was a crowd. He drew nigh, asked what was going on, and received for an
answer, that there was to be a sale of many specimens of art, collected by
an amateur in the course of thirty years. It has often happened that
collections made with infinite pains by the proprietor, have been sold
without mercy or discrimination after his death.
Something whispered to the weary Duhobret, that here would be the market
for his picture. It was a long way yet to the house of the picture dealer,
and he made up his mind at once. He worked his way through the crowd,
dragged himself up the steps, and, after many inquiries, found the
auctioneer. That personage was a busy man, with a handful of papers; he
was inclined to notice somewhat roughly the interruption of the lean,
sallow hunchback, imploring as were his gesture and language.
"What do you call your picture?" at length, said he, carefully looking at
it.
"It is a view of the Abbey of Newburg, with its village and the
surrounding landscape," replied the eager and trembling artist.
The auctioneer again scanned it contemptuously, and asked what it was
worth. "Oh, that is what you please; whatever it will bring," answered
Duhobret.
"Hem! it is too odd to please, I should think; I can promise you no more
than three thalers."
Poor Samuel sighed deeply. He had spent on that piece the nights of many
months. But he was starving now; and the pitiful sum offered would give
bread for a few days. He nodded his head to the auctioneer, and retiring
took his seat in a corner.
The sale began. After some paintings and engravings had been disposed of,
Samuel's was exhibited. "Who bids at three thalers? Who bids?" was the
cry. Duhobret listened eagerly, but none answered. "Will it find a
purchaser?" said he despondingly, to himself. Still there was a dead
silence. He dared not look up; for it seemed to him that all the people
were laughing at the folly of the artist, who could be insane enough to
offer so worthless a piece at a public sale.
"What will become of me?" was his mental inquiry. "That work is certainly
my best;" and he ventured to steal another glance. "Does it not seem that
the wind actually stirs those boughs and moves those leaves! How
transparent is the water! What life breathes in the animals that quench
their thirst at that spring! How that steeple shines! How beautiful are
those clustering trees!" This was the last expiring throb of an artist's
vanity. The ominous silence continued, and Samuel, sick at heart, buried
his face in his hands.
"Twenty-one thalers!" murmured a faint voice, just as the auctioneer was
about to knock down the picture. The stupefied painter gave a start of
joy. He raised his head and looked to see from whose lips those blessed
words had come. It was the picture dealer, to whom he had first thought of
applying.
"Fifty thalers," cried a sonorous voice. This time a tall man in black was
the speaker. There was a silence of hushed expectation. "One hundred
thalers," at length thundered the picture dealer.
"Three hundred!" "Five hundred!" "One thousand!" Another profound silence,
and the crowd pressed around the two opponents, who stood opposite each
other with eager and angry looks.
"Two thousand thalers!" cried the picture dealer, and glanced around him
triumphantly, when he saw his adversary hesitate. "Ten thousand!"
vociferated the tall man, his face crimson with rage, and his hands
clinched convulsively. The dealer grew paler; his frame shook with
agitation; he made two or three efforts, and at last cried out "Twenty
thousand!"
His tall opponent was not to be vanquished. He bid forty thousand. The
dealer stopped; the other laughed a low laugh of insolent triumph, and a
murmur of admiration was heard in the crowd. It was too much for the
dealer; he felt his peace was at stake. "Fifty thousand!" exclaimed he in
desperation. It was the tall man's turn to hesitate. Again the whole crowd
were breathless. At length, tossing his arms in defiance, he shouted "One
hundred thousand!" The crestfallen picture dealer withdrew; the tall man
victoriously bore away the prize.
How was it, meanwhile, with Duhobret, while this exciting scene was going
on? He was hardly master of his senses. He rubbed his eyes repeatedly, and
murmured to himself, "After such a dream, my misery will seem more cruel!"
When the contest ceased, he rose up bewildered, and went about asking
first one, then another, the price of the picture just sold. It seemed
that his apprehension could not at once be enlarged to so vast a
conception.
The possessor was proceeding homeward, when a decrepit, lame, and
humpbacked invalid, tottering along by the aid of a stick, presented
himself before him. He threw him a piece of money, and waved his hand as
dispensing with his thanks. "May it please your honor," said the supposed
beggar, "I am the painter of that picture!" and again he rubbed his eyes.
The tall mall was Count Dunkelsback, one of the richest noblemen in
Germany. He stopped, took out his pocketbook, took out a leaf, and wrote
on it a few lines. "Take it, friend," said he; "it is a check for your
money. Adieu."
Duhobret finally persuaded himself that it was not a dream. He became the
master of a castle, sold it, and resolved to live luxuriously for the rest
of his life, and to cultivate painting as a pastime. But, alas, for the
vanity of human expectation! He had borne privation and toil; prosperity
was too much for him, as was proved soon after, when an indigestion
carried him off. His picture remained long in the cabinet of Count
Dunkelsback, and afterward passed into the possession of the King of
Bavaria.
Notes.--Albert Durer (b. 1471, d. 1528) lived at Nuremburg, Germany. He
was eminent as a painter, and as an engraver on copper and wood. He was
one of the first artists who studied anatomy and perspective. His
influence on art is clearly felt even at the present day.
Newburg, or Neuburg, is on the Danube, fifty miles south of Nuremburg.
Bergen Abbey was north of the village.
X. PICTURES OF MEMORY. (88)
Alice Cary, 1820-1871, was born near Cincinnati. One of her ancestors was
among the "Pilgrim Fathers," and the first instructor of Latin at
Plymouth, Mass. Miss Cary commenced her literary career at her western
home, and, in 1849, published a volume of poems, the joint work of her
younger sister, Phoebe, and herself. In 1850, she moved to New York. Two
of her sisters joined her there, and they supported themselves by their
literary labor. Their home became a noted resort for their literary and
artistic friends. Miss Cary was the author of eleven volumes, besides many
articles contributed to periodicals. Her poetry is marked with great
sweetness and pathos. Some of her prose works are much admired, especially
her "Clovernook Children."
###
Among the beautiful pictures
That hang on Memory's wall,
Is one of a dim old forest,
That seemeth best of all;
Not for its gnarled oaks olden,
Dark with the mistletoe;
Not for the violets golden,
That sprinkle the vale below;
Not for the milk-white lilies,
That lean from the fragrant hedge,
Coquetting all day with the sunbeams,
And stealing their golden edge;
Not for the vines on the upland,
Where the bright red berries rest,
Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip,
It seemeth to me the best.
I once had a little brother,
With eyes that were dark and deep;
In the lap of that dim old forest,
He lieth in peace asleep:
Light as the down of the thistle,
Free as the winds that blow,
We roved there the beautiful summers,
The summers of long ago;
But his feet on the hills grew weary,
And, one of the autumn eves,
I made for my little brother,
A bed of the yellow leaves.
Sweetly his pale arms folded
My neck in a meek embrace,
As the light of immortal beauty
Silently covered his face;
And when the arrows of sunset
Lodged in the tree tops bright,
He fell, in his saintlike beauty,
Asleep by the gates of light.
Therefore, of all the pictures
That hang on Memory's wall,
The one of the dim old forest
Seemeth the best of all.
XI. THE MORNING ORATORIO. (90)
Wilson Flagg, 1806-1884, was born in Beverly, Mass. He pursued his
academical course in Andover, at Phillips Academy, and entered Harvard
College, but did not graduate. His chief Works are: "Studies in the Field
and Forest," "The Woods and Byways of New England," and "The Birds and
Seasons of New England."
###
Nature, for the delight of waking eyes, has arrayed the morning heavens in
the loveliest hues of beauty. Fearing to dazzle by an excess of delight,
she first announces day by a faint and glimmering twilight, then sheds a
purple tint over the brows of the rising morn, and infuses a transparent
ruddiness throughout the atmosphere. As daylight widens, successive groups
of mottled and rosy-bosomed clouds assemble on the gilded sphere, and,
crowned with wreaths of fickle rainbows, spread a mirrored flush over
hill, grove, and lake, and every village spire is burnished with their
splendor.
At length, through crimsoned vapors, we behold the sun's broad disk,
rising with a countenance so serene that every eye may view him ere he
arrays himself in his meridian brightness. Not many people who live in
towns are aware of the pleasure attending a ramble near the woods and
orchards at daybreak in the early part of summer. The drowsiness we feel
on rising from our beds is gradually dispelled by the clear and healthful
breezes of early day, and we soon experience an unusual amount of vigor
and elasticity.
During the night, the stillness of all things is the circumstance that
most powerfully attracts our notice, rendering us peculiarly sensitive to
every accidental sound that meets the ear. In the morning, at this time of
year, on the contrary, we are overpowered by the vocal and multitudinous
chorus of the feathered tribe. If you would hear the commencement of this
grand anthem of nature, you must rise at the very first appearance of
dawn, before the twilight has formed a complete semicircle above the
eastern porch of heaven.
The first note that proceeds from the little warbling host, is the shrill
chirp of the hairbird,--occasionally vocal at an hours on a warm summer
night. This strain, which is a continued trilling sound, is repeated with
diminishing intervals, until it becomes almost incessant. But ere the
hairbird has uttered many notes, a single robin begins to warble from a
neighboring orchard, soon followed by others, increasing in numbers until,
by the time the eastern sky is flushed with crimson, every male, robin in
the country round is singing with fervor.
It would be difficult to note the exact order in which the different birds
successively begin their parts in this performance; but the bluebird,
whose song is only a short, mellow warble, is heard nearly at the same
time with the robin, and the song sparrow joins them soon after with his
brief but finely modulated strain. The different species follow rapidly,
one after another, in the chorus, until the whole welkin rings with their
matin hymn of gladness.
I have often wondered that the almost simultaneous utterance of so many
different notes should produce no discords, and that they should result in
such complete harmony. In this multitudinous confusion of voices, no two
notes are confounded, and none has sufficient duration to grate harshly
with a dissimilar sound. Though each performer sings only a few strains
and then makes a pause, the whole multitude succeed one another with such
rapidity that we hear an uninterrupted flow of music until the broad light
of day invites them to other employments.
When there is just light enough to distinguish the birds, we may observe,
here and there, a single swallow perched on the roof of a barn or shed,
repeating two twittering notes incessantly, with a quick turn and a hop at
every note he utters. It would seem to be the design of the bird to
attract the attention of his mate, and this motion seems to be made to
assist her in discovering his position. As soon as the light has tempted
him to fly abroad, this twittering strain is uttered more like a continued
song, as he flits rapidly through the air.
But at this later moment the purple martins have commenced their more
melodious chattering, so loud as to attract for a while the most of our
attention. There is not a sound in nature so cheering and animating as the
song of the purple martin, and none so well calculated to drive away
melancholy. Though not one of the earliest voices to be heard, the chorus
is perceptibly more loud and effective when this bird has united with the
choir.
When the flush of the morning has brightened into vermilion, and the place
from which the sun is soon to emerge has attained a dazzling brilliancy,
the robins are already less tuneful. They are now becoming busy in
collecting food for their morning repast, and one by one they leave the
trees, and may be seen hopping upon the tilled ground, in quest of the
worms and insects that, have crept out during the night from their
subterranean retreats.
But as the robins grow silent, the bobolinks begin their vocal revelries;
and to a fanciful mind it might seem that the robins had gradually
resigned their part in the performance to the bobolinks, not one of which
is heard until some of the former have concluded their songs. The little
hairbird still continues his almost incessant chirping, the first to begin
and the last to quit the performance. Though the voice of this bird is not
very sweetly modulated, it blends harmoniously with the notes of other
birds, and greatly increases the charming effect of the combination.
It would be tedious to name all the birds that take part in this chorus;
but we must not omit the pewee, with his melancholy ditty, occasionally
heard like a short minor strain in an oratorio; nor the oriole, who is
really one of the chief performers, and who, as his bright plumage flashes
upon the sight, warbles forth a few notes so clear and mellow as to be
beard above every other sound. Adding a pleasing variety to all this
harmony, the lisping notes of the meadowlark, uttered in a shrill tone,
and with a peculiar pensive modulation, are plainly audible, with short
rests between each repetition.
There is a little brown sparrow, resembling the hairbird, save a general
tint of russet in his plumage, that may be heard distinctly among the
warbling host. He is rarely seen in cultivated grounds, but frequents the
wild pastures, and is the bird that warbles so sweetly at midsummer, when
the whortleberries are ripe, and the fields are beautifully spangled with
red lilies.
There is no confusion in the notes of his song, which consists of one
syllable rapidly repeated, but increasing in rapidity and rising to a
higher key towards the conclusion. He sometimes prolongs his strain, when
his notes are observed to rise and fall in succession. These plaintive and
expressive notes are very loud and constantly uttered, during the hour
that precedes the rising of the sun. A dozen warblers of this species,
singing in concert, and distributed in different parts of the field, form,
perhaps, the most delightful part of the woodland oratorio to which we
have listened.
At sunrise hardly a robin can be beard in the whole neighborhood, and the
character of the performance has completely changed during the last half
hour. The first part was more melodious and tranquilizing, the last is
more brilliant and animating. The grass finches, the vireos, the wrens,
and the linnets have joined their voices to the chorus, and the bobolinks
are loudest in their song. But the notes of the birds in general are not
so incessant as before sunrise. One by one they discontinue their lays,
until at high noon the bobolink and the warbling flycatcher are almost the
only vocalists to be heard in the fields.
XII. SHORT SELECTIONS IN POETRY. (94)
1. THE CLOUD.
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun,
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow;
Long had I watched the glory moving on,
O'er the still radiance of the lake below:
Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow,
E'en in its very motion there was rest,
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow,
Wafted the traveler to the beauteous west.
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul,
To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given,
And by the breath of mercy made to roll
Right onward to the golden gate of heaven,
While to the eye of faith it peaceful lies,
And tells to man his glorious destinies.
--John Wilson
II. MY MIND.
My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find,
As far exceeds all earthly bliss
That God or nature hath assigned;
Though much I want that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
NOTE.--This is the first stanza of a poem by William Byrd (b, 1543, d.
1623), an English composer of music.
III. A GOOD NAME. (95)
Good name, in man or woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
Shakespeare.--Othello, Act III, Scene III.
IV. SUNRISE.
But yonder comes the powerful king of day,
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud,
The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow
Illumed with liquid gold, his near approach
Betoken glad. Lo! now apparent all,
Aslant the dew-bright earth and colored air
He looks in boundless majesty abroad,
And sheds the shining day that, burnished, plays
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,
High gleaming from afar.
Thomson.
V. OLD AGE AND DEATH. (95)
Edmund Waller, 1605-1687, an English poet, was a cousin of John Hampden,
and related to Oliver Cromwell. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge.
Waller was for many years a member of Parliament. He took part in the
civil war, and was detected in a treasonable plot. Several years of his
life were spent in exile in France. After the Restoration he came into
favor at court. His poetry is celebrated for smoothness and sweetness, but
is disfigured by affected conceits.
###
The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er;
So calm are we when passions are no more.
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, too certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries.
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made:
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
VI. MILTON. (96)
John Dryden, 1631-1703, was a noted English writer, who was made poet
laureate by James II. On the expulsion of James, and the accession of
William and Mary, Dryden lost his offices and pension, and was compelled
to earn his bread by literary work. It was during these last years of his
life that his best work was done. His "Ode for St. Cecilia's Day" is one
of his most, celebrated poems. His prose writings are specimens of good,
strong English.
###
Three poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn;
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed,
The next in majesty, in both the last.
The force of nature could no further go;
To make a third she joined the other two.
Note.--The two poets referred to, other than Milton, are Homer and Dante.
XIII. DEATH OF LITTLE NELL. (96)
Charles Dickens. 1812-1870, one of the greatest novelists of modern,
times, was born in Portsmouth, but spent nearly all his life in London.
His father was a conscientious man, but lacked capacity for getting a
livelihood. In consequence, the boy's youth was much darkened by poverty.
It has been supposed that he pictured his father in the character of
"Micawber." He began his active life as a lawyer's apprentice; but soon
left this employment to become a reporter. This occupation he followed
from 1831 to 1836. His first book was entitled "Sketches of London
Society, by Boz." This was followed, in 1837, by the "Pickwick Papers," a
work which suddenly brought much fame to the author. His other works
followed with great rapidity, and his last was unfinished at the time of
his death. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. Mr. Dickens visited America
in 1842, and again in 1867. During his last visit, he read his works in
public, in the principal cities of the United States.
The resources of Dickens's genius seemed exhaustless. He copied no author,
imitated none, but relied entirely on his own powers. He excelled
especially in humor and pathos. He gathered materials for his works by the
most careful and faithful observation. And he painted his characters with
a fidelity so true to their different individualities that, although they
sometimes have a quaint grotesqueness bordering on caricature, they stand
before the memory as living realities. He was particularly successful in
the delineation of the joys and griefs of childhood. "Little Nell" and
little "Paul Dombey" are known, and have been loved and wept over, in
almost every household where the English language is read. His writings
present very vividly the wants and sufferings of the poor, and have a
tendency to prompt to kindness and benevolence. His works have not escaped
criticism. It has been said that "his good characters act from impulse,
not from principle," and that he shows "a tricksy spirit of fantastic
exaggeration." It has also been said that his novels sometimes lack
skillful plot, and that he seems to speak approvingly of conviviality and
dissipation. "The Old Curiosity Shop," from which the following extract is
taken, was published in 1840.
###
She was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain,
so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God,
and waiting for the breath of life; not one who had lived, and suffered
death. Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and
green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favor. "When I die,
put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it
always." These were her words.
She was dead. Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird,
a poor, slight thing the pressure of a finger would have crushed, was
stirring nimbly in its cage, and the strong heart of its child mistress
was mute and motionless forever! Where were the traces of her early cares,
her sufferings, and fatigues? All gone. Sorrow was dead, indeed, in her;
but peace and perfect happiness were born, imaged in her tranquil beauty
and profound repose.
And still her former self lay there, unaltered in this change. Yes! the
old fireside had smiled upon that same sweet face; it had passed, like a
dream, through haunts of misery and care; at the door of the poor
schoolmaster on the summer evening, before the furnace fire upon the cold
wet night, at the still bedside of the dying boy, there had been the same
mild and lovely look. So shall we know the angels, in their majesty, after
death.
The old man held one languid arm in his, and had the small hand tight
folded to his breast for warmth. It was the hand she had stretched out to
him with her last smile; the hand that had led him on through all their
wanderings. Ever and anon he pressed it to his lips; then hugged it to his
breast again, murmuring that it was warmer now, and, as he said it, he
looked in agony to those who stood around, as if imploring them to help
her.
She was dead, and past all help, or need of help. The ancient rooms she
had seemed to fill with life, even while her own was waning fast, the
garden she had tended, the eyes she had gladdened, the noiseless haunts of
many a thoughtful hour, the paths she had trodden, as it were, but
yesterday, could know her no more.
"It is not," said the schoolmaster, as he bent down to kiss her on the
cheek, and gave his tears free vent, "it is not in this world that
heaven's justice ends. Think what earth is, compared with the world to
which her young spirit has winged its early flight, and say, if one
deliberate wish, expressed in solemn tones above this bed, could call her
back to life, which of us would utter it?"
She had been dead two days. They were all about her at the time, knowing
that the end was drawing on. She died soon after daybreak. They had read
and talked to her in the earlier portion of the night; but, as the hours
crept on, she sank to sleep. They could tell by what she faintly uttered
in her dreams, that they were of her journeyings with the old man; they
were of no painful scenes, but of people who had helped them, and used
them kindly; for she often said "God bless you!" with great fervor.
Waking, she never wandered in her mind but once, and that was at beautiful
music, which, she said, was in the air. God knows. It may have been.
Opening her eyes, at last, from a very quiet sleep, she begged that they
would kiss her once again. That done, she turned to the old man, with a
lovely smile upon her face, such, they said, as they had never seen, and
could never forget, and clung, with both her arms, about his neck. She had
never murmured or complained; but, with a quiet mind, and manner quite
unaltered, save that she every day became more earnest and more grateful
to them, faded like the light upon the summer's evening.
The child who had been her little friend, came there, almost as soon as it
was day, with an offering of dried flowers, which he begged them to lay
upon her breast. He told them of his dream again, and that it was of her
being restored to them, just as she used to be. He begged hard to see her:
saying, that he would be very quiet, and that they need not fear his being
alarmed, for he had sat alone by his young brother all day long, when he
was dead, and had felt glad to be so near him. They let him have his wish;
and, indeed, he kept his word, and was, in his childish way, a lesson to
them all.
Up to that time, the old man had not spoken once, except to her, or
stirred from the bedside. But, when he saw her little favorite, he was
moved as they had not seen him yet, and made as though he would have him
come nearer. Then, pointing to the bed, he burst into tears for the first
time, and they who stood by, knowing that the sight of this child had done
him good, left them alone together.
Soothing him with his artless talk of her, the child persuaded him to take
some rest, to walk abroad, to do almost as he desired him. And, when the
day came, on which they must remove her, in her earthly shape, from
earthly eyes forever, he led him away, that he might not know when she was
taken from him. They were to gather fresh leaves and berries for her bed.
And now the bell, the bell she had so often heard by night and day, and
listened to with solemn pleasure, almost as a living voice, rung its
remorseless toll for her, so young, so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age,
and vigorous life, and blooming youth, and helpless infancy,--on crutches,
in the pride of health and strength, in the full blush of promise, in the
mere dawn of life, gathered round her. Old men were there, whose eyes were
dim and senses failing, grandmothers, who might have died ten years ago,
and still been old, the deaf, the blind, the lame, the palsied, the living
dead, in many shapes and forms, to see the closing of that early grave.
Along the crowded path they bore her now, pure as the newly fallen snow
that covered it, whose day on earth had been as fleeting. Under that
porch, where she had sat when heaven, in its mercy, brought her to that
peaceful spot, she passed again, and the old church received her in its
quiet shade.
XIV. VANITY OF LIFE. (100)
Johann Gottfried von Herder, 1744-1803, an eminent German poet, preacher,
and philosopher, was born in Mohrungen, and died in Weimar. His published
works comprise sixty volumes. This selection is from his "Hebrew Poetry."
###
Man, born of woman,
Is of a few days,
And full of trouble;
He cometh forth as a flower, and is cut down;
He fleeth also as a shadow,
And continueth not.
Upon such dost thou open thine eye,
And bring me unto judgment with thee?
Among the impure is there none pure?
Not one.
Are his days so determined?
Hast thou numbered his months,
And set fast his bounds for him
Which he can never pass?
Turn then from him that he may rest,
And enjoy, as an hireling, his day.
The tree hath hope, if it be cut down,
It becometh green again,
And new shoots are put forth.
If even the root is old in the earth,
And its stock die in the ground,
From vapor of water it will bud,
And bring forth boughs as a young plant.
But man dieth, and his power is gone;
He is taken away, and where is he?
Till the waters waste from the sea,
Till the river faileth and is dry land,
Man lieth low, and riseth not again.
Till the heavens are old, he shall not awake,
Nor be aroused from his sleep.
Oh, that thou wouldest conceal me
In the realm of departed souls!
Hide me in secret, till thy wrath be past;
Appoint me then a new term,
And remember me again.
But alas! if a man die
Shall he live again?
So long, then, as my toil endureth,
Will I wait till a change come to me.
Thou wilt call me, and I shall answer;
Thou wilt pity the work of thy hands.
Though now thou numberest my steps,
Thou shalt then not watch for my sin.
My transgression will be sealed in a bag,
Thou wilt bind up and remove my iniquity.
Yet alas! the mountain falleth and is swallowed up,
The rock is removed out of its place,
The waters hollow out the stones,
The floods overflow the dust of the earth,
And thus, thou destroyest the hope of man.
Thou contendest with him, till he faileth,
Thou changest his countenance, and sendeth him away.
Though his sons become great and happy,
Yet he knoweth it not;
If they come to shame and dishonor,
He perceiveth it not.
Note.--Compare with the translation of the same as given in the ordinary
version of the Bible. Job xiv.
XV. A POLITICAL PAUSE. (102)
Charles James Fox, 1749-1806, a famous English orator and statesman, was
the son of Hon. Henry Fox, afterward Lord Holland; he was also a lineal
descendant of Charles II. of England and of Henry IV, of France. He
received his education at Westminster, Eton, and Oxford, but left the
University without graduating. He was first elected to Parliament before
he was twenty years old. During the American Revolution, he favored the
colonies; later, he was a friend and fellow-partisan both with Burke and
Wilberforce. Burke said of him, "He is the most brilliant and successful
debater the world ever saw." In his later years, Mr. Fox was as remarkable
for carelessness in dress and personal appearance, as he had been for the
opposite in his youth. He possessed many pleasing traits of character, but
his morals were not commendable; he was a gambler and a spendthrift. Yet
he exercised a powerful influence on the politics of his times. This
extract is from a speech delivered during a truce in the long war between
England and France.
###
"But we must pause," says the honorable gentleman. What! must the bowels
of Great Britain be torn out, her best blood spilt, her treasures wasted,
that you may make an experiment? Put yourselves--Oh! that you would put
yourselves on the field of battle, and learn to judge of the sort of
horrors you excite. In former wars, a man might at least have some
feeling, some interest, that served to balance in his mind the impressions
which a scene of carnage and death must inflict.
But if a man were present now at the field of slaughter, and were to
inquire for what they were fighting--"Fighting!", would be the answer;
"they are not fighting; they are pausing." "Why is that man expiring? Why
is that other writhing with agony? What means this implacable fury?" The
answer must be, "You are quite wrong, sir, you deceive yourself,--they are
not fighting,--do not disturb them,--they are merely pausing! This man is
not expiring with agony,--that man is not dead,--he is only pausing! Bless
you, sir, they are not angry with one another; they have now no cause of
quarrel; but their country thinks that there should be a pause. All that
you see is nothing like fighting,--there is no harm, nor cruelty, nor
bloodshed in it; it is nothing more than a political pause. It is merely
to try an experiment--to see whether Bonaparte will not behave himself
better than heretofore; and, in the meantime, we have agreed to a pause,
in pure friendship!"
And is this the way that you are to show yourselves the advocates of
order? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize the world, to destroy
order, to trample on religion, to stifle in the heart not merely the
generosity of noble sentiment, but the affections of social nature; and in
the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devastation all
around you.
Note.--In this lesson, the influence of a negative in determining the
rising inflection, is noticeable. See Rule V, p. 24.
XVI. MY EXPERIENCE IN ELOCUTION. (104)
John Neal. 1793-1876, a brilliant but eccentric American writer, was born
in Portland, Maine. He went into business, when quite young, in company
with John Pierpont, the well-known poet. They soon failed, and Mr. Neal
then turned his attention to the study of law. He practiced his profession
somewhat, but devoted most of his time to literature. For a time he
resided in England, where he wrote for "Blackwood's Magazine" and other
periodicals. His writings were produced with great rapidity, and with a
purposed disregard of what is known as "classical English."
###
In the academy I attended, elocution was taught in a way I shall never
forget--never! We had a yearly exhibition, and the favorites of the
preceptor were allowed to speak a piece; and a pretty time they had of it.
Somehow I was never a favorite with any of my teachers after the first two
or three days; and, as I went barefooted, I dare say it was thought
unseemly, or perhaps cruel, to expose me upon the platform. And then, as I
had no particular aptitude for public speaking, and no relish for what was
called oratory, it was never my luck to be called up.
Among my schoolmates, however, was one--a very amiable, shy boy--to whom
was assigned, at the first exhibition I attended, that passage in Pope's
Homer beginning with,
"Aurora, now, fair daughter of the dawn!"
This the poor boy gave with so much emphasis and discretion, that, to me,
it sounded like "O roarer!" and I was wicked enough, out of sheer envy, I
dare say, to call him "O roarer!"--a nickname which clung to him for a
long while, though no human being ever deserved it less; for in speech and
action both, he was quiet, reserved, and sensitive.
My next experience in elocution was still more disheartening, so that I
never had a chance of showing what I was capable of in that way till I set
up for myself. Master Moody, my next instructor, was thought to have
uncommon qualifications for teaching oratory. He was a large, handsome,
heavy man, over six feet high; and having understood that the first,
second, and third prerequisite in oratory was action, the boys he put in
training were encouraged to most vehement and obstreperous manifestations.
Let me give an example, and one that weighed heavily on my conscience for
many years after the poor man passed away.
Among his pupils were two boys, brothers, who were thought highly gifted
in elocution. The master, who was evidently of that opinion, had a habit
of parading them on all occasions before visitors and strangers; though
one bad lost his upper front teeth and lisped badly, and the other had the
voice of a penny trumpet. Week after week these boys went through the
quarrel of Brutus and Cassius, for the benefit of myself and others, to
see if their example would not provoke us to a generous competition for
all the honors.
How it operated on the other boys in after life I can not say; but the
effect on me was decidedly unwholesome--discouraging, indeed,--until I was
old enough to judge for myself, and to carry into operation a system of my
own.
On coming to the passage,--
"Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts;
Dash him to pieces!"--
the elder of the boys gave it after the following fashion: "Be ready,
godths, with all your thunderbolths,--dath him in pietheth!"--bringing
his right fist down into his left palm with all his strength, and his
lifted foot upon the platform, which was built like a sounding-board, so
that the master himself, who had suggested the action and obliged the poor
boy to rehearse it over and over again, appeared to be utterly carried
away by the magnificent demonstration; while to me--so deficient was I in
rhetorical taste--it sounded like a crash of broken crockery, intermingled
with chicken peeps.
I never got over it; and to this day can not endure stamping, nor even
tapping of the foot, nor clapping the hands together, nor thumping the
table for illustration; having an idea that such noises are not oratory,
and that untranslatable sounds are not language.
My next essay was of a somewhat different kind. I took the field in
person, being in my nineteenth year, well proportioned, and already
beginning to have a sincere relish for poetry, if not for declamation. I
had always been a great reader; and in the course of my foraging
depredations I had met with "The Mariner's Dream" and "The Lake of the
Dismal Swamp," both of which I had committed to memory before I knew it.
And one day, happening to be alone with my sister, and newly rigged out in
a student's gown, such as the lads at Brunswick sported when they came to
show off among their old companions, I proposed to astonish her by
rehearsing these two poems in appropriate costume. Being very proud of her
brother, and very obliging, she consented at once,--upon condition that
our dear mother, who had never seen anything of the sort, should be
invited to make one of the audience.
On the whole, I rather think that I succeeded in astonishing both. I well
remember their looks of amazement--for they had never seen anything better
or worse in all their lives, and were no judges of acting--as I swept to
and fro in that magnificent robe, with outstretched arms and uplifted
eyes, when I came to passages like the following, where an apostrophe was
called for:
"And near him the she wolf stirred the brake,
And the copper snake breathed in his ear,
Till he, starting, cried, from his dream awake,
'Oh, when shall I see the dusky lake,
And the white canoe of my dear'!'"
Or like this:
"On beds of green sea flowers thy limbs shall be laid;
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow,
Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below;"--
throwing up my arms, and throwing them out in every possible direction as
the spirit moved me, or the sentiment prompted; for I always encouraged my
limbs and features to think for themselves, and to act for themselves, and
never predetermined, never forethought, a gesture nor an intonation in my
life; and should as soon think of counterfeiting another's look or step or
voice, or of modulating my own by a pitch pipe (as the ancient orators
did, with whom oratory was acting elocution, a branch of the dramatic
art), as of adopting or imitating the gestures and tones of the most
celebrated rhetorician I ever saw.
The result was rather encouraging. My mother and sister were both
satisfied. At any rate, they said nothing to the contrary. Being only in
my nineteenth year, what might I not be able to accomplish after a little
more experience!
How little did I think, while rehearsing before my mother and sister, that
anything serious would ever come of it, or that I was laying the
foundations of character for life, or that I was beginning what I should
not be able to finish within the next forty or fifty years following. Yet
so it was. I had broken the ice without knowing it. These things were but
the foreshadowing of what happened long afterward.
Notes.--Brunswick, Maine, is the seat of Bowdoin College.
"The Mariner's Dream" is a poem by 'William Dimond.
"The Lake of the Dismal Swamp" is by Thomas Moore.
XVII. ELEGY IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. (108)
Thomas Gray, 1716-1771, is often spoken of as "the author of the
Elegy,"--this simple yet highly finished and beautiful poem being by far
the best known of an his writings. It was finished in 1749,--seven years
from the time it was commenced. Probably no short poem in the language
ever deserved or received more praise. Gray was born in London; his father
possessed property, but was indolent and selfish; his mother was a
successful woman of business, and supported her son in college from her
own earnings. The poet was educated at Eton and Cambridge; at the latter
place, he resided for several years after his return from a continental
tour, begun in 1739. He was small and delicate in person, refined and
precise in dress and manners, and shy and retiring in disposition. He was
an accomplished scholar in many fields of learning, but left comparatively
little finished work in any department. He declined the honor of poet
laureate; but, in 1769, was appointed Professor of History at Cambridge.
###
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell forever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care;
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike, the inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise;
Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of Death?
Perhaps, in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:
But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
The applause of listening senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,
Their lot forbade: nor, circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne.
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride,
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool, sequestered vale of life,
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Yet even these bones, from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still, erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply;
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate,
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,--
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing, with hasty step, the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn:
"There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;
Now, drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
"One morn, I missed him on the customed hill,
Along the heath, and near his favorite tree:
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:
"The next, with dirges due, in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne:--
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
'Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."
THE EPITAPH.
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.
Large was his bounty and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery (all he had) a tear;
He gained from Heaven ('t was all he wished) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father, and his God.
[Illustration: Man on horseback riding past a church-yard (graveyard).
The sky is cloudy; the church steeple stands in the background.]
Notes.--John Hampden (b. 1594, d. 1643) was noted for his resolute
resistance to the forced loans and unjust taxes imposed by Charles I. on
England. He took part in the contest between King and Parliament, and was
killed in a skirmish.
John Milton. See biographical notice, page 312.
Oliver Cromwell (b. 1599, d. 1658) was the leading character in the Great
Rebellion in England. He was Lord Protector the last five years of his
life, and in many respects the ablest ruler that England ever had.
XVIII. TACT AND TALENT. (113)
Talent is something, but tact is everything. Talent is serious, sober,
grave, and respectable: tact is all that, and more too. It is not a sixth
sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the quick
ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch; it is the
interpreter of all riddles, the surmounter of all difficulties, the
remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times; it
is useful in solitude, for it shows a man into the world; it is useful in
society, for it shows him his way through the world.
Talent is power, tact is skill; talent is weight, tact is momentum; talent
knows what to do, tact knows how to do it; talent makes a man respectable,
tact will make him respected; talent is wealth, tact is ready money. For
all the practical purposes, tact carries it against talent ten to one.
Take them to the theater, and put them against each other on the stage,
and talent shall produce you a tragedy that shall scarcely live long
enough to be condemned, while tact keeps the house in a roar, night after
night, with its successful farces. There is no want of dramatic talent,
there is no want of dramatic tact; but they are seldom together: so we
have successful pieces which are not respectable, and respectable pieces
which are not successful.
Take them to the bar, and let them shake their learned curls at each other
in legal rivalry; talent sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its
journey's end. Talent has many a compliment from the bench, but tact
touches fees. Talent makes the world wonder that it gets on no faster,
tact arouses astonishment that it gets on so fast. And the secret is, that
it has no weight to carry; it makes no false steps; it hits the right nail
on the head; it loses no time; it takes all hints; and, by keeping its eye
on the weathercock, is ready to take advantage of every wind that blows.
Take them into the church: talent has always something worth hearing, tact
is sure of abundance of hearers; talent may obtain a living, tact will
make one; talent gets a good name, tact a great one; talent convinces,
tact converts; talent is an honor to the profession, tact gains honor from
the profession.
Take them to court: talent feels its weight, tact finds its way; talent
commands, tact is obeyed; talent is honored with approbation, and tact is
blessed by preferment. Place them in the senate: talent has the ear of the
house, but tact wins its heart, and has its votes; talent is fit for
employment, but tact is fitted for it. It has a knack of slipping into
place with a sweet silence and glibness of movement, as a billiard ball
insinuates itself into the pocket.
It seems to know everything, without learning anything. It has served an
extemporary apprenticeship; it wants no drilling; it never ranks in the
awkward squad; it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on
no look of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of profundity, but plays with
the details of place as dexterously as a well-taught hand flourishes over
the keys of the pianoforte. It has all the air of commonplace, and all the
force and power of genius.
XIX. SPEECH BEFORE THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION. (115)
Patrick Henry, 1730-1799, was born in Hanover County, Virginia, He
received instruction in Latin and mathematics from his father, but seemed
to develop a greater fondness for hunting, fishing, and playing the fiddle
than for study. Twice he was set up in business, and twice failed before
he was twenty-four. He was then admitted to the bar after six weeks' study
of the law. He got no business at first in his profession, but lived with
his father-in-law. His wonderful powers of oratory first showed themselves
in a celebrated case which he argued in Hanover Courthouse, his own father
being the presiding magistrate. He began very awkwardly, but soon rose to
a surprising height of eloquence, won his case against great odds, and was
carried off in triumph by the delighted spectators. His fame was now
established; business flowed in, and he was soon elected to the Virginia
Legislature. He was a delegate to the Congress of 1774, and in 1775 made
the prophetic speech of which the following selection is a portion. It
was his own motion that the "colony be immediately put in a state of
defense." During the Revolution he was, for several years, Governor of
Virginia. In 1788 he earnestly opposed the adoption of the Federal
Constitution. When he died, he left a large family and an ample fortune.
In person, Mr. Henry was tall and rather awkward, with a face stern and
grave. When he spoke on great occasions, his awkwardness forsook him, his
face lighted up, and his eyes flashed with a wonderful fire. In his life,
he was good-humored, honest, and temperate. His patriotism was of the
noblest type; and few men in those stormy times did better service for
their country than he.
###
It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to
shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that
siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men,
engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be
of the number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear
not the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my
part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the
whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.
I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of
experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past;
and, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the
conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those
hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the
house? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately
received? Trust it not: it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not
yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves, how this gracious
reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which
cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a
work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to
be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us
not deceive ourselves. These are the implements of war and subjugation,--
the last arguments to which kings resort.
I ask, gentlemen, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to
force us into submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive
for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call
for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, she has none. They are
meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind
and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so
long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument?
We have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to
offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every
light in which it was capable; but it has been all in vain.
Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we
find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you,
deceive ourselves longer. We have done everything that could be done, to
avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have
remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves at the
foot of the throne, and implored its interposition to arrest the
tyrannical bands of the ministry and parliament. Our petitions have been
slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult;
our supplications disregarded; and we have been spurned with contempt from
the foot of the throne.
In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and
reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be
free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for
which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon
the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we
have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our
contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, we must fight! An
appeal to arms and the God of Hosts, is all that is left us.
They tell us that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an
adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the
next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British
guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by
irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual
resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive
phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? We
are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of
nature hath placed in our power.
Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such
a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our
enemy can send against us. Besides, we shall not fight our battles alone.
There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations; and who
will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle is not to
the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides,
we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too
late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and
slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains
of Boston! The war is inevitable; and; let it come! I repeat it, let it
come!
It is in vain to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, peace; but
there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps
from the north, will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our
brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that
gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet,
as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty
God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me
liberty, or give me death.
Notes.--Observe, in this lesson, the all-controlling power of emphasis in
determining the falling inflection. The words "see," "hear," and "my," in
the first paragraph, the word "that" in the second, and "spurned" and
"contempt" in the fourth paragraph, are examples of this. Let the reader
remember that a high degree of emphasis is sometimes expressed by a
whisper; also, that emphasis is often expressed by a pause.
It will be well to read in this connection some good history of the
opening scenes of the Revolution.
XX: THE AMERICAN FLAG. (119)
Joseph Rodman Drake. 1795-1820, was born in New York City. His father died
when he was very young, and his early life was a struggle with poverty. He
studied medicine, and took his degree when he was about twenty years old.
From a child, he showed remarkable poetical powers, having made rhymes at
the early age of five. Most of his published writings were produced during
a period of less than two years. "The Culprit Fay" and the "American Flag"
are best known. In disposition, Mr. Drake was gentle and kindly; and, on
the occasion of his death, his intimate friend, Fitz-Greene Halleck,
expressed his character in the well-known couplet:
"None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise."
###
When Freedom, from her mountain height,
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there:
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white
With streakings of the morning light;
Then, from his mansion in the sun,
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land.
Majestic monarch of the cloud!
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumpings loud,
And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder drum of heaven;--
Child of the sun! to thee 't is given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!
Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high!
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on,
Ere yet the lifeblood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn,
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when the cannon mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud,
And gory sabers rise and fall,
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,
Then shall thy meteor glances glow,
And cowering foes shall sink beneath
Each gallant arm, that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back,
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart's hope and home,
By angel hands to valor given,
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float that standard sheet!
Where breathes the foe but falls before us,
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?
XXI. IRONICAL EULOGY ON DEBT. (121)
Debt is of the very highest antiquity. The first debt in the history of
man is the debt of nature, and the first instinct is to put off the
payment of it to the last moment. Many persons, it will be observed,
following the natural procedure, would die before they would pay their
debts.
Society is composed of two classes, debtors and creditors. The creditor
class has been erroneously supposed the more enviable. Never was there a
greater misconception; and the hold it yet maintains upon opinion is a
rem
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