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INTRODUCTION TO SHAKESPEARE's PLAYS, CONTAINING AN ESSAY ON ORATORY.

LONDON: Printed for JOHN BELL, near Exeter-Exchange, in the Strand; and C. ETHERINGTON, at York. MDCCLXXIII.

DEDICATION. TO DAVID GARRICK, Eſq

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SIR,

IT is matter of great doubt whether any dedicatory addreſs was ever freer from taint of flattery, than the preſent; if we pronounce you the beſt illuſtrator of, and the beſt living comment on, SHAKESPEARE, that ever has appeared, or poſſibly ever will grace the Britiſh ſtage, it is merely echoing the public voice, and concurring with that unparalleled unanimity of praiſe, which, during ſo long a courſe of years, hath attended your incomparable merit.

[iv]This compact edition of SHAKESPEARE is offered you as a grateful, tho' ſmall, return, for the infinite pleaſure, and extenſive information, derived from your exquiſite performance, and judicious remarks, by,

SIR,
Your moſt obedient humble ſervants, THE EDITORS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

[5]

SHAKESPEARE's admirers, even the enthuſiaſtic ones, who worſhip him as the god of their idolatry, have never ſcrupled to admit that his moſt regular pieces produce ſome ſcenes and paſſages, highly derogatory to his incomparable general merit; he frequently trifles, is now and then obſcure, and, ſometimes, to gratify a vitiated age, indelicate: but can any degree of critical taſte wiſh the preſervation of dark ſpots, becauſe they have grown upon dramatic ſunſhine? is not the corrective hand frequently proved to be the kindeſt? critics, like parents, ſhould neither ſpare the rod, nor uſe it wantonly.

There is no doubt but all our author's faults may juſtly be attributed to the looſe, quibbling, licentious taſte of his time; he, no doubt, upon many occaſions, wrote wildly, merely to gratify the public; as DRYDEN wrote bombaſtically, and CONGREVE obſcenely, to indulge the humour, and engage the favour of their audiences: no man can ſuppoſe that the former conſidered his rhiming dialogues as marks of ſublimity, nor that the latter imagined his [6] double entendres were wit; one wanted money, the other fame; for which, pompous ſounds and groſs ideas, were then popular baits; conſequently, chaſte criticiſm and delicacy were without ſcruple, ſacrificed to their ſeveral views.

Our author did not go quite ſo far, but very frequently preſerved himſelf free from taint, reining his fiery PEGASUS with an able maſterly hand; why then ſhould not the noble monuments he has left us, of unrivalled ability, be reſtored to due proportion and natural luſtre, by ſweeping off thoſe cobwebs, and that duſt of depraved opinion, which SHAKESPEARE was unfortunately forced to throw on them; forced, we ſay, for it is no ſtrain of imagination, to ſuppoſe that the Goths and Vandals of criticiſm, who frequented the theatre, in his days, would, like thoſe who over-ran the Roman empire, have deſtroyed and conſigned to barbarous oblivion, the ſublime beauties which they could not reliſh; and it is matter of great queſtion with us, whether the fool, in King Lear, was not a more general favourite, than the old monarch himſelf.

The above conſiderations firſt ſtarted the idea, and induced the undertaking, of this edition; and as the THEATRES, eſpecially [7] of late, have been generally right in their omiſſions, of this author particularly, we have printed our text after their regulations; and from this part of our deſign, an evident uſe will ariſe; that thoſe who take books to the THEATRE, will not be ſo puzzled themſelves to accompany the ſpeaker; nor ſo apt to condemn performers of being imperfect, when they paſs over what is deſignedly omitted. Upon this point, however, it is to be obſerved, that the difference of power, of voice and execution, between different performers, may make one eraſe more than another; nevertheleſs we come ſo near the mark of all, that ſcarce any perplexity can ariſe, in tracing them; beſides we would hope, that a reaſonable ſtandard being thus laid down, profeſſors of the drama will not be ſo forward, as capriciouſly and arbitrarily to deviate from it; it is commendable to conſult the extent of expreſſion, but thro' idleneſs to retrench what is beautiful and neceſſary, or through vanity to retain what is heavy and uneſſential to action, we deem an affront to the public, and a diſgrace to the performer.

As an author, replete with ſpirited ideas, and a full flow of language, eſpecially one poſſeſſing a muſe of fire, cannot ſtop exactly where ſtage utterance and public attention [8] require; ſome paſſages, of great merit for the cloſet, are never ſpoken; ſuch, though omitted in the text, we have carefully preſerved in the notes.

And now, being upon this part of our ſubject, we hold ourſelves bound in juſtice and gratitude to Mr. Garrick, to mention a delicate fear, which he ſuggeſted, when we firſt ſolicited his ſanction and aſſiſtance. This fear was, leſt the prunings, tranſpoſitions, or other alterations, which, in his province as a manager he had often found neceſſary to make, or adopt, with regard to the text, for the convenience of repreſentation, or accommodation to the powers and capacities of his performers, might be miſconſtrued into a critical preſumption of offering to the literati a reformed and more correct edition of our author's works; this being by no means his intention, we hope it will not become liable to ſuch an unmerited miſconſtruction. In juſtification of ourſelves alſo, we take this opportunity of declaring, that to expect any thing more of this work, than as a companion to the theatre, is to miſtake the purpoſe of the editors.

Having been long convinced that multiplying conjectural verbal criticiſms, tends rather to perplex, than inform readers; we [9] have given thoſe readings which to us appear moſt conſonant to our author's manner and meaning, without obtruding one capricious opinion on another.

We have furniſhed an explanation of technical and obſolete terms; pointed out the leading beauties, as they occur, without deſcanting ſo much as to anticipate the reader's conception and inveſtigation; we have ſhewn, with a becoming impartiality, what appear to us to be blemiſhes and imperfections: the requiſites for repreſenting every character of importance are defined, and the mode of performance eſſential for ſcenes peculiarly capital, is clearly pointed out.

We have earneſtly conſulted correctneſs, neatneſs, ornament, utility, and cheapneſs of price; we have avoided all oſtentation of criticiſm, compacting our notes as much as poſſible; in regard whereof, it may be juſtly ſaid, that we could have enlarged the number, and extended the phraſeology, with much leſs trouble, than it coſt us to give them their preſent form; it has been our peculiar endeavour to render what we call the eſſence of SHAKESPEARE, more inſtructive and intelligible; eſpecially to the ladies and to youth; glaring indecencies being removed, and intricate paſſages explained; [10] and laſtly, we have ſtriven to ſupply plainer ideas of criticiſm, both in public and private, than we have hitherto met with.

A general view of each play is given, by way of introduction.

Though this is not an edition meant for the profoundly learned, nor the deeply ſtudious, who love to find out, and chace their own critical game; yet we flatter ourſelves both parties may perceive freſh ideas ſtarted for ſpeculation and reflection.

THE EDITORS.

ESSAY ON ORATORY.

[11]

THOUGH it is not ſtrictly within the limits of our plan, to range at large over the extenſive field of oratorical correctneſs, fancy and excellence, as it reſpects the pulpit, ſenate, and bar; yet it is hoped we ſhall ſo far touch on the eſſentials of them all, as to give hints, which may prove uſeful to each of the three degrees.

If we ſay that an orator, like a poet, to excel, ſhould be born ſuch, it will be no ſtrained aſſertion; and if we add that he muſt be more indebted to nature, than a ſon of the muſes, it will be eaſily admitted. Cultivated imagination, regulated by judgment, conſtitutes one; who, totally void of external requiſites, may ſhine from his cloſet, tho' ever ſo deformed in figure, rude in features, weak in voice, or blemiſh'd in appearance.

[12]The other, though he may, by peculiar excellence of delivery, and the help of a feeling ſubject well treated on, be able to impreſs an audience, with little more than a good voice; yet experience powerfully convinces us that a graceful perſon, reſpectable marking features, expreſſive eyes, and ornamental geſture, are of the utmoſt utility: it is no argument to ſay, that a man, as in the caſe of Sir John Fielding, tho' the viſual gates of ſympathy be ſhut, may ſhow ſtrong marks of oratorical merit; for the queſtion naturally follows, would he not be much more powerful in expreſſion, if the indexes of thought enjoyed their natural and proper vigour, eſpecially where particular feelings are to be excited?

It is too common for ignorance and avarice, to miſapply the talents of youth, eſpecially in this point of view; many are deſtined for, and brought up to the moſt ſerious, the moſt important concerns of life, wherein public ſpeaking is required, who labour under glaring defects and imbecilities of expreſſion; hence ſo many drowſy, irkſome preachers, ſo many ſenatorical cyphers; and ſuch a number of imperfect pleaders: this parental blunder is much the ſame as breeding a purblind boy to watchmaking, or one hard of hearing to muſic.

Suppoſing a perſon qualified by nature, let us ſee how far art may be called in. The complete orator muſt have a general and intimate knowledge of himſelf, the world and mankind; a clear conception of the paſſions and affections of thoſe he is to inſtruct and perſuade; a perfect acquaintance with the various diſtinctions of virtue and vice; he ſhould be critically intimate with all the beauties and blemiſhes of the ancient writers; he ſhould [13] be an hiſtorian and a logician; poſſeſſing a correct idea of, and taſte for, the liberal arts; if a competent knowledge of the mechanical ones is added, ſo much the better; he ſhould poſſeſs a quick conception, and a retentive memory; he ſhould be able to break thro', with eaſe, the cobwebs of ſophiſtry, and, above all, enjoy that grand ingredient recommended by CICERO, ſocial philoſophy.

He ſhould be maſter of all the arguments, for and againſt his ſubject; in ſhort, to ſum up all with the great Roman orator's own words, ‘"he ſhould be furniſhed with logical acuteneſs, philoſophical wiſdom, and poetical imagination, embelliſhed with the moſt poliſhed elocution and geſture of the ſtage."’

To expatiate upon the obvious advantages deriveable from each of the above qualifications required to complete this very comprehenſive character we are conſidering, would be to ſpin out a needleſs length of explanation; which could anſwer no end, but anticipating the reader's reflective inveſtigation; wherefore we ſhall quit this point, with obſerving, that when ſo many requiſites, both internal and external are neceſſary, it is no wonder that a complete orator is ſo very ſcarce a character.

Declaimers, who may be juſtly ſtiled the pageants of oratory, poſſeſs the flowery, but not the argumentative, part; they appeal boldly to fancy and the paſſions, but cautiouſly ſhun rational inquiſition; ſhew and plauſibility completely ſet up one of this dangerous kind of public ſpeakers, who oftener make proſelytes among the weak and ignorant, than ſound orators do; as they are moſtly pleaſing, tho' ſeldom inſtructive. Biſhop Sprat, ſpeaking of them, in his hiſtory of the Royal Society, [14] emphatically ſays, ‘"of all the ſtudies of men, nothing can be ſooner obtained, than a vicious abundance of phraſe; the trick of metaphors, and a volubility of tongue."’

Having come thus far, the three celebrated orators of antiquity ſeem to fall in the way; DEMOSTHENES, ISOCRATES and CICERO; the firſt ſpoke from the heart, the ſecond from the head; the firſt was animated by his ſubject and powerfully enforced it; the ſecond decked it profuſely with rhetorical flowers; one flaſhed conviction, by irreſiſtable imagery; the other amuſed imagination, with fantaſtical alluſions: of ISOCRATES we may ſay, his eloquence reſembled a pleaſant, but ſhallow, ſtream, which tickles the ear with an agreeable murmuring: DEMOSTHENES a deep majeſtic current, that in its courſe thunders on attention, and bears down all oppoſition: ISOCRATES poſſeſſes eaſe and elegance, DEMOSTHENES power and perſwaſion; CICERO who riſes far above the former, does not in our idea come up to the latter; he is however a very maſterly mixture of both, and therefore more likely to obtain general admiration, than either of his predeceſſors.

Oratory is well defined the exerciſe of eloquence; eloquence the fluency of ſpeech; and rhetoric the guide of both. It is odd that theſe three terms ſhould frequently be uſed as ſynonimous, when they ſo eſſentially differ.

Oratorical compoſition ſhould be founded on a progreſſive unity of parts, but not like ſome of our ſermons, which are diſgraced with inſipid methodical formality commonly ſtiled heads; it ſhould enter modeſtly upon, warm into the ſubject, and, if required, kindle to fire, when the audience are ready to receive heated impreſſions; an impaſſioned [15] exordium generally produces a cold concluſion; and that piece, which endeavours to catch attention too ſuddenly, will either not catch it at all, or be obliged ſoon to let it ſlip.

FENELON, ARCHBISHOP OF CAMBRAY, deſcribing the Beauties of Eloquence, ſpeaks to the following effect: ‘"Of what uſe can any ornament be, that does not tend to prove, to paint, or to affect? thoſe ornaments, which only pleaſe, are falſe beauties; thoſe which pleaſe and perſuade, ſolid ones; the juſt and natural emotions of an orator have much grace and beauty in them; his correct and ſpirited painting charms us; all the eſſential parts of eloquencce tend to pleaſe; but merely pleaſing is not the moſt important aim; ideas and expreſſions, which only tickle the ear, may be deemed quaint turns; all graces of ſtyle, which ſerve to invigorate perſuaſion, are to be wiſh'd for; but all witty, punning conceits, all quibbling upon words, all ſtrained metaphors, all forced glaring imagery, and all luxurance of idea, which only ſerve to flaſh and glitter upon fancy, diſgrace ſound oratory."’

In public ſpeaking, as well as in poetry and painting, art ſhould be carefully concealed: where perceptible, it has a coarſe and mean aſpect. The orator ſhould ſo intirely poſſeſs his audience of the ſubject, as to make them forget the ſpeaker.

From the affecting exclamation of Gracchus, mentioned by Cicero, and a dilation of it, we perceive how expreſſion ſtrengthens, or enervates, a ſubject: ‘"Wretched man that I am! whither ſhall I turn myſelf? where can I go? to the Capitol? it ſwims with my brother's blood! ſhall I go to to my own houſe? there to ſee my wretched mother diſſolved in tears, and overwhelmed with [16] ſorrow?"’ This is a beautiful, bold, and affecting picture of perplexed grief: mark how faded the tints of originality appear in the following faint copy: ‘"I know not where to go, nor whither I ſhall turn myſelf, amidſt my misfortunes—the Capitol is the place where my brother's blood was ſhed; and at home I ſhall find my unhappy mother lamenting her ſad condition."’ With very narrow comprehenſion and very dull feelings we may readily perceive the falling off, in this languid extenſion and variation of phraſe.

We ſhall offer an inſtance of the turgid and chaſte, in the following comparative contraſt. Suppoſe a perſon addreſſing an Engliſh audience, on a preſumed decay of Engliſh liberty, ſhould thus declaim; ‘"Moſt renowned Britons—in the magnanimous volume of Time we may read—even purblind eyes may ſee the glaring type, that there was a period, when liberty, diaphanous as ſun-beams at noon, exhilarated this oceanic iſle; when like the bird of Jove it ſoar'd aloft, and gazed with pleaſure on the face of day; now it faintly glimmers, like the fog-wrapped moon, and our glorious eagle is become a bird of night."’

Now let us ſee how the ſame ſubject may be treated, in oppoſition to this over-charged, bloated, tabernacle harangue; which, delivered in the Moorfield manner, muſt prove a laughable morſel of mirth, to divert common ſenſe, and aſtoniſh ignorance.

‘"Fellow citizens, there was a time, when liberty diffuſed its bleſſings thro' this once happy iſle; when its value was known, and its worth revered; when, like the ſun, it was a common [17] comforter; the parent of pleaſure, eaſe, and ſecurity: now corruption and our own depravity have brought it to ſo enfeebled and precarious a ſtate, that every real friend of his country muſt tremble, as I do, at the painful idea of its ſpeedy and inevitable diſſolution."’

If eloquence (a very dangerous weapon in the hands of ill-deſigning men) is uſed to any other purpoſes than the following, we may conſider it as in a cenſurable ſtate of perverſion.

It ſhould enforce the cleareſt proof of any uſeful truth, with ſuch intereſting motives as may affect the hearers, and work their paſſions to virtuous purpoſes; to raiſe indignation againſt ingratitude; horror againſt cruelty; deteſtation againſt vice; abhorrence againſt ſlavery; compaſſion for miſery; love for virtue; reverence for religion; obedience to ſuperiors; and benevolence to all. Thus employed, eloquence appears in its full force and beauty: mere harangues ſeldom fail to catch the ear, but rarely touch the heart, and as ſeldom inform the head.

It is neceſſary that an orator ſhould call the paſſions to his aid; but then he ſhould be very cautious not to impoſe on, or aſſail, them too violently: the one is cruel, the other impolitic. He ſhould be clear in his ideas, and conciſe in his expreſſion: he ſhould perfectly underſtand juſt arrangement of matter, and the proper climax of argument: he ſhould be thoroughly poſſeſſed of every principle and part of his ſubject: he ſhould provide a ſufficient number of appoſite, affecting figures. Thus prepared, he muſt ſpeak, and effectually, from an untrammel'd imagination.

The following paſſages, from Biſhop Burnet's diſcourſe on the Paſtoral Care, ſeems well calculated [18] for the improvement of Lay, as well as Pulpit, ſpeakers. ‘"The extempore orator ſhould frequently converſe with himſelf, to let his thoughts flow freely from him; eſpecially when he feels an edge and heat upon his mind; for then happy expreſſions will ſpontaneouſly come to his mouth. He muſt alſo write eſſays on all kinds of ſubjects; for, by writing, he will bring himſelf to a facility and correctneſs of thinking and ſpeaking: and thus, by cloſe application for two or three years, a man may render himſelf ſuch a maſter this way, that he can never be ſurprized; nor will new thoughts ever dry up upon him. If, in his meditations, happy thoughts and noble pathetic expreſſions offer themſelves, he muſt not loſe, but write them down."’

We perfectly agree with the right reverend Author, that much oratorical merit may be derived from frequent, well-regulated ſoliloquies, and eſſay-writing; and are induced to offer a few more of his thoughts, though not in the exact words nor confined light wherein he has propoſed them.

One moſt eſſential point is, that an orator ſhould have a due and deep ſenſe of the truth and utility of his ſubject: he muſt have a life and glow in his thoughts, with relation to it: he ſhould very ſenſibly feel in himſelf thoſe things which he explains and recommends to others: he ſhould ſpeak as if what he uttered came from the heart: the orator, unleſs he really is, or ſeems to be, in earneſt, will never make any material impreſſion. There is a degree of authority, even in the ſimpleſt matters that can be treated of, if they appear genuine, while the moſt important points fall into neglect, when conveyed through the cold vehicle of languid expreſſion.

[19]For a general well-compacted idea of oratory, we ſhall refer to ſome ſpeeches from FENELON's Dialogue, between DEMOSTHENES and CICERO.

CICERO.

What! doſt thou pretend that I was but an ordinary orator?

DEMOSTHENES.

Not an ordinary one; for it is not over an ordinary perſon that I affect ſuperiority. Thou wert doubtleſs a celebrated orator: thou hadſt great parts; but didſt frequently deviate from "the point wherein perfection conſiſts.

CICERO.

And pray hadſt thou no faults at all?

DEMOSTHENES.

I believe I can be taxed with none, in point of eloquence.

CICERO.

Canſt thou compare richneſs of genius with me? thou, who art dry, unadorned; who art ever confined within narrow and contracted limits: thou doſt not amplify any ſubject: thou, from whom nothing can be retrenched; ſo impoveriſhed, ſo ſtarved is the manner in which thy ſubjects are treated; whereas I extended mine, diſplaying a copious and fertile genius; which gave judicious critics occaſion to ſay, that nothing could be added to my works.

DEMOSTHENES.

He from whom nothing can be retrenched, has ſaid nothing but what is perfect.

CICERO.

He to whom nothing can be added, has omitted nothing that could adorn his work.

DEMOSTHENES.

Thou findeſt thy diſcourſes more replete with [20] flaſhes of wit, than mine—confeſs honeſtly, is not this thy claim to ſuperiority?

CICERO.

Since you urge the point, I acknowledge it: my compoſitions are infinitely more beautified, than thine. They ſpeak far more wit, more ingenuity of turn, more art, more eaſe. I exhibit the ſame thing under twenty different ſhapes: when people heard my orations, they could not help admiring my parts, nor being ſurprized at my art: they were conſtantly ſhouting, and interrupting me with vehemence of applauſe. Thou muſt have been heard very quietly; with, I ſuppoſe, little or no interruption.

DEMOSTHENES.

Thy obſervations on both, are true; but the inference drawn from them, is thy miſtake. Thou took'ſt up the audience with thyſelf; I engaged it only with the affairs I ſpoke upon. People admired thee; I was forgot by the auditors; who ſaw nothing but the courſe I wiſh'd them to take. Thou didſt entertain with flaſhes of wit: I ſtruck down with bolts of thunder. Thou madeſt men ſay, How finely he ſpeaks! I made them exclaim, Come, let us take the field againſt Philip! They praiſed thee: they were too much diſpoſſeſſed of themſelves, to praiſe me. Thy harangues came forth adorned; none ever diſcovered in me any ornament: there was nothing in my pieces, but preciſe, ſtrong, clear argument; and thence impulſes like lightning, which nothing could reſiſt. Thou wert a perfect orator, when thou wert like me—ſimple, grave, auſtere, without apparent art; in a word, when thou wert Demoſthenical: but when wit, turn, and art ſhone in thy diſcourſes, [21] then wert mere Cicero; departing ſo far from perfection, as thou departedſt from my character.

Mr. RAPIN, in his Reflections upon Eloquence, obſerves, that there are two extremes, which ſhould be equally and carefully avoided; the frigid ſtyle, and the boyiſh. The former renders diſcourſes dry and inſipid, by a languid flatneſs of expreſſion; the latter ungrateful and ſhocking, by a turgid loftineſs, and affected amplification. Thoſe who uſe the frigid ſtyle, call in pompous expreſſions, when the ſubject requires plain ones; and they who affect the boyiſh one, employ low expreſſions in the loftieſt themes. The frigid ſtyle properly includes all ſuch expreſſions as are too ſtrong, or too ſparkling, ſtrained metaphors, and frequent witticiſms: the boyiſh ſtyle comprehends ſtrokes of humour, and quaint conceits, upon ſerious ſubjects; looſe and heavy repetitions, in that part of an oration which ought to be cloſe and conciſe; too violent exaggerations, and too laborious figures.

One would think that MALBRANCHE had the enthuſiaſtic religion-mongers of thoſe days in view, when he obſerved, that one of the greateſt and moſt remarkable proofs of the ſtrong influence that ſome heated imaginations have over others, is the power of extenſive perſuaſion, without a ſhadow of proof*.

[22]Stage delivery (for theatrical expreſſion cannot be ſtiled oratory) including more variety, and more force of paſſion, is conſequently more difficult. It requires the fineſt, and moſt ſignificant feelings, in the performer, to create, by ſympathy, proper ſenſations in the audience.

That noble and almoſt peculiar ſenſe of human nature, Sympathy, makes us not only ſhare in the diſtreſs of a fellow creature, but alſo pity the miſerable brute: it varies ſhapes and ſtrength, according to the objects and circumſtances which occur. There are two principal degrees; ſympathy of compulſion and ſympathy of election: the firſt is, when irreſiſtable motives arreſt the heart; the ſecond, when it becomes intereſted, by choice. Compulſive ſympathy inſtructs us to ſigh with ſucceſsleſs love; to kindle with real or well painted rage; to weep with grief; and to mourn for virtue in diſtreſs: elective ſympathy is when we make choice of objects in different ſituations, and become, without any perſonal knowledge or immediate concern, anxious for their ſucceſs: in caſes of competition, whether of a pleaſurable or of a ſerious nature, man cannot remain a ſpectator totally indifferent; he muſt aſſiſt one ſide or the other, with a ſympathetic wiſh: in the choice he is free; yet that choice is frequently ſo capricious, that no firm reaſon can be offered, why it becomes fixed.

Imagination is the vehicle which conveys ſympathy to, and draws it meliorated from, the heart: that which the Theatre raiſes, is produced by the bold painting of the Poet's pen, aided by the natural and forcible talents of a good Actor; who is, in every ſentence, an illuſtrative comment upon his author's idea.

[23]This is that kind of ſympathy, which the ingenious Dr. SMITH, in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, deſcribes to ariſe from the view of emotions in another perſon: the paſſions may be transfuſed from one perſon to another, inſtantaneouſly, and antecedent to any knowledge of what excited them in the perſon principally concerned. Grief and Joy, ſtrongly expreſſed in the look and geſtures of any one, excluſive of voice, at once affect the ſpectator with ſome degree of a like painful or agreeable emotion: a ſmiling face is to every one who ſees it a cheerful object; as a ſorrowful countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy one.

What the ingenious Profeſſor ſays of mankind at large, may be brought to the point we have immediately in view. Every faculty in one man, when he judges of propriety, is the meaſure by which he decides upon the like faculty in another: I judge of your ſight, by my ſight; of your ear, by my ear; of your reaſon, by my reaſon; of your reſentment, by my reſentment; of your love, by my love: I neither have nor can have any other way of judging, about them. This poſition granted, we are not to wonder at the endleſs variety of, and frequent abſurd critical opinions upon, the real and mimic ſtages of life.

If an actor creates ſympathy (which to do ſhould be his foremoſt aim) he will command attention: if not, vain are the beſt requiſites, and all the adventitious aids of theatrical decoration.

[24] For what follows we have been obliged to a pamphlet, written by Mr. GENTLEMAN, ſome few years ſince.

READING and DECLAMATION conſiſt of emphaſis, climax, modulation, pauſes, breaks, tranſitions, tones, cadences, and geſture.

EMPHASIS may be divided into two branches, explanatory and expreſſive: by the firſt is meant that ſtreſs of utterance, which preſents more clearly to conception the meaning of what we deliver; as for example:—‘"A popular man is, in truth, no better than a proſtitute to common fame, and to the people: he lies down to every one he meets, for the hire of praiſe, and his humility is only a diſguiſed ambition."’—By marking the preceding paſſage ſo, the meaning ſtrikes immediately, with full force; whereas, if the ſtreſs was laid upon other words, or if the whole was uttered with monotony (a ſameneſs of tone) the ſenſe would be confuſed; and to a hearer, whoſe apprehenſion was not very quick, perhaps quite unintelligible.—In caſes where the ſenſe is doubtful, proper emphaſis is indiſpenſably neceſſary; for inſtance: "Did the Engliſhman deſerve to die?—If I lay the ſtreſs upon did, then it marks a queſtion ariſing from ſurpriſe; if Engliſhman is diſtinguiſhed, then it implies that others were concerned, and that I would know his caſe particularly.—If die is marked, then it appears that I admit guilt, but want to know if his crime was of ſuch a nature as to deſerve capital puniſhment.

Expreſſive emphaſis is that which we uſe to render a paſſage, whoſe meaning is obvious, more forcible; [25] as may appear by properly marking the following quotation from Shakeſpeare*.

In this, ye GODS, you make the weak moſt ſtrong;
In this, ye GODS, you tyrants do defeat;
Nor ſtony tow'rs, nor walls of beaten braſs,
Nor airleſs dungeon, nor ſtrong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the ſtrength of ſpirit:
But life, being weary of theſe worldly bars,
Never lacks power to diſmiſs itſelf.

Let us take another example, from an higher Epic.

He bids the SPIRY firs ariſe,
The cedar, vig'rous, pierce the ſkies,
From Lebanon's chill brow:
Fearleſs amid conflicting ſtorms,
The tow'ring ſtork his cradle forms,
High on the ſounding bough.
104th PSALM.

By laying the emphaſis on ſpiry, in the firſt line, the peculiar form of the trees mentioned is explained; whereas, had the ſtreſs been laid upon firs, it would leave us at liberty to think upon oaks, elms, &c. ſpiry too.—The word ariſe is marked, as being the purport of a command; and though, in general, the voice falls, at the end of a line, yet, in this caſe, the meaning requires it ſhould be raiſed, but not too high, nor abruptly.

In the ſecond line, vig'rous is marked as a property of the cedar: indeed all epithets, whether [26] they precede or follow, require emphaſis.—Pierce is noted as painting a quickneſs and boldneſs of vegetation, while the imagination is raiſed to a more than ordinary height, by particulariſing ſkies.

In the third line, chill is diſtinguiſhed as a characteriſtic quality of the climate of Lebanon.

Fearleſs, in the fourth line, is pointed out as an extraordinary attribute of a bird; and conflicting ſtorms are emphatical, as a proof of that attribute; enlarging the idea much more than the ſimple word fearleſs, unaſſiſted, would have done.

In the fifth line, tow'ring is diſtinguiſhed as an epithet; and cradle, which happily deſcribes the ſtork's neſt in that rocking ſituation, is pointed out as the motive of the bird's reſolution.

In the laſt line, high is marked as a material circumſtance of the imagery, and ſounding not only as an epithet, but alſo as referring to its turbulent ſituation among whiſtling or roaring gales.

I have choſen the above ſtanza from the Pſalms, as pictureſque poetry reſts more upon emphaſis, than any other ſpecies of writing; and I have been ſo minute in the explanation of it, not only that my meaning might be underſtood, as to this branch of expreſſion, but likewiſe to ſhow that emphaſis ſhould be founded on reaſon, not laid merely for a jingle, or variation of ſound.—Having thus marked and explained one ſtanza, I ſhall propoſe two more for the exerciſe of the ſtudent, without any marks of diſtinction.

He, as a curtain, ſtretch'd on high
The vaſt cerulean canopy,
And gave with fires to glow:
[27]'Twas he, tremendous Potentate!
Built on the waves his hall of ſtate,
Wide as the waters flow.
He walks upon the wings of wind,
And leaves the rapid ſtorms behind;
Their monarch's awful will
Seraphs await in dread ſuſpence,
And, ſwifter than the lightning's glance,
His mighty word fulfil.

After all that can be ſaid, the degrees of emphaſis are ſo many and ſo variable, that no preciſe rules can be laid down for their application.—In reading and declamation, as in muſic, there muſt be taſte, to give beauty; without it mere rectitude will be moſt unaffectingly inſipid. This quality, though improveable, muſt certainly be firſt derived from Nature.—A reader, before he can reach bare propriety, muſt thoroughly underſtand what he reads; for which reaſon the cuſtom of putting children to peruſe the Bible, in which there are many difficult words and abſtruſe paſſages, is by no means to be commended; nay, if we conſider it in another light, it is highly blameable; for by being made the ſubject of puzzle and embarraſſment, by being toſſed about in a careleſs and ſlovenly manner, that love and reſpect which the ſacred writings juſtly claim, are too frequently ſet aſide in youth*. We are told, that among the [28] Turks, if a piece of written paper appears on the ground, it is taken up and carefully preſerved, leſt the word ALLAH, or GOD, be inſcribed on it.—Mark the contraſted irreverence of Chriſtians! who not only profane with their mouths that moſt awful name, upon the moſt trivial occaſions, but alſo frequently uſe, as waſte paper, whole ſheets, in which not only his ſacred name is mentioned, but every letter a part of his divine word.

Another reaſon againſt making the Bible an early book among learners, is the frequency of periods, and peculiarity of ſtyle, in which it differs widely from moſt other compoſitions. It is not rare to find many perſons, who, by laboriouſly conning over the chapters, can ſtumble their way pretty tolerably through any part of it; yet put them to any other book, you ſhall find them lamentably hampered, and frequently at an abſolute ſtand.

But to return more particularly to my ſubject.—As no abſolute rules can be laid down for emphaſis, in general, we muſt be content with remarks upon particular caſes; ſuch as, that oppoſition, or antitheſis, requires an emphaſis upon each of the oppoſed words; and that moſt monoſyllables, beginning a queſtion, muſt be ſtrongly marked: as, Why did he ſo? What can he mean? How did ſhe look? In compound words, that are oppoſed to others, the emphaſis, or rather accent, properly falls on the diſtinguiſhing ſyllables: for inſtance, The virtuous are modeſt—the vicious immodeſt—the righteous are bleſſed—the unrighteous are miſerable.—Here I have oppoſed ſimple to ſimple, and compound to compound; were the words immodeſt and unrighteous to be pronounced without oppoſition, the accent would fall upon the ſecond ſyllable, inſtead of the firſt.

[29]In explanatory emphaſes the very ſame words are differently marked, according to the writer's deſign: as, What did my maſter ſay? If I lay the ſtreſs upon what, it is a general interrogation; if I place it upon my, it implies that other maſters were concerned; if maſter is diſtinguiſhed, it notes that there were other perſons; and if the emphaſis lies boldeſt upon ſay, it ſhows I want to know his particular words.

Both the cauſe and the effect in any ſentence require an emphaſis.—Example: To live WELL, is to die HAPPY—only to be GOOD, is to be GREAT—GUILT is the ſource of SORROW.

CLIMAX is that progreſſive force and exaltation of expreſſion, which more powerfully impreſſes each ſubject on the mind; and is not only of indiſpenſible uſe, but alſo highly ornamental. In the execution of this, there is much nicety, as the riſe, in moſt caſes, ſhould be gradual, always harmonious, and upon many occaſions very forcible.—To illuſtrate the matter, I ſhall offer ſeveral examples of different degrees of climax. Firſt from Shakeſpeare's Brutus; which ſhould riſe with a full, ſmooth, philoſophic weight and dignity.

—If theſe,
As I am ſure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to ſteal with valour
The melting ſpirits of women; then, countrymen,
What need we any ſpur but our own cauſe,
To prick us to redreſs? What other bond,
Than ſecret Romans who have ſpoke the word,
And will not falter? Or what other oath,
Than honeſty to honeſty engag'd,
That this ſhall be, or we will fall for it?

[30]The climax of reaſoning, in theſe lines, is too obvious to be inſiſted on; therefore I ſhall only obſerve, that the glow of expreſſion, as I may call it, ſhould warm, with the argument.

The Sublime and Beautiful, from Moſes' Laſt Song.

‘"Give ear, oh ye heavens! and I will ſpeak; and hear, oh earth, the words of my mouth: my doctrine ſhall drop as the rain, my ſpeech ſhall diſtil as the dew; as the ſmall rain upon the tender herb; and as the ſhowers upon the graſs; becauſe I will publiſh the name of the Lord. Aſcribe ye greatneſs unto our God. He is the rock; his work is perfect; for all his ways are judgment. A God of truth: and without iniquity—juſt and right is he—for the Lord's portion is his people. Jacob is the lot of his inheritance: he found him in a deſart land; and in the waſte howling wilderneſs: he led him about: he inſtructed him, and kept him as the apple of his eye: as an eagle ſtirreth up her neſt; fluttereth over her young; ſpreadeth abroad her wings; taketh them, beareth them on her wings, ſo the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no ſtrange god with him."’

We have an example from Addiſon, which calls for dignity, ſoftened and impaſſioned by the moſt pathetic feeling of manly grief; a feeling which very few have imagination to conceive happily, and as few powers to expreſs properly.

—'Tis Rome demands our tears;
The miſtreſs of the world, the ſeat of empire!
The nurſe of heroes! the delight of gods!
That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth,
[31]And ſet the nations free—Rome is no more.
Oh liberty! Oh virtue! O my country!
* * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
Whate'er the Roman virtue had ſubdued,
The ſun's whole courſe, the day and year, are Caeſar's:
For him the ſelf-devoted Decii died;
The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquer'd;
Even Pompey fought for Caeſar! Oh, my friends,
How is the work of Fate, the toil of ages,
The Roman empire, fall'n!—Oh curs'd ambition!
Fallen into Caeſar's hands!—Our great forefathers
Had left him nought to conquer but his country.

Of Pathetic Lamentation, from Jeremiah.

‘"How does the city ſit ſolitary, that was full of people? how is ſhe become as a widow? ſhe that was great among the nations, and princeſs among the provinces: How is ſhe become tributary? ſhe weepeth ſore in the night; and her tears are on her cheeks. Among all her loſſes, ſhe hath none to comfort her: all her friends have dealt treacherouſly with her: they have become her enemies: for theſe things I weep; mine eye runneth down with water, becauſe the comforter, that ſhould relieve my ſoul, is far from me. My children are deſolate, becauſe the enemy prevailed. My eyes do fail with tears, my bowels are troubled: my liver is poured upon the earth for the deſtruction of the daughter of my people."’

[32] Of pathetic, deſcriptive Melancholy, from Shakeſpeare.

—of comfort no man ſpeak;
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make duſt our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write ſorrow on the boſom of the earth!
Let's chuſe executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not ſo, for what can we bequeath,
Save our depoſed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
And that ſmall model of the barren earth
Which ſerves as duſt, and cover to our bones.
For heaven's ſake let's ſit upon the ground,
And tell ſad ſtories of the deaths of kings;
How ſome have been depoſed, ſome ſlain in war,
Some haunted by the ghoſts they diſpoſſeſſed,
Some poiſon'd by their wives, ſome ſleeping kill'd;
All murther'd—for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court—throw away reſpect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but miſtook me ail this while.
I live on bread like you, feel want like you;
Taſte grief, need friends like you. Subjected thus,
How can you ſay to me, I am a king?
K. Richard II.

The following paſſage from Otway ſhould gradually warm into Rapture.

Can there in woman be ſuch glorious faith!
Sure all ill ſtories of thy ſex are falſe!
Oh woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee
[33]To temper man: we had been brutes without you:
Angels are painted fair to look like you:
There's in you all that we believe of Heaven;
Amazing brightneſs, purity, and truth,
Eternal joy, and everlaſting love.

An inſtance of Climax in vindictive Rage we have in the following lines of Young.

Yet ere I fall, be it one part of vengeance,
To make ev'n thee confeſs that I am juſt.
Thou ſeeſt a prince whoſe father thou haſt ſlain,
Whoſe native country thou haſt laid in blood,
Whoſe ſacred perſon—Oh, thou haſt profan'd!
Whoſe reign extinguiſh'd. What was left to me,
So highly born? No kingdom, but revenge;
No treaſure, but thy tortures and thy groans.

Vindictive Ferocity, from Milton.

My ſentence is for open war—of wiles
More inexpert I boaſt not—them let thoſe
Contrive who need; unworthy of our might.
For while they ſit contriving, ſhall the reſt,
Millions now under arms, who longing wait
The ſignal to aſcend, ſit lingering here,
Heav'n's fugitives; and for their dwelling-place
Accept this dark opprobrious den of ſhame;
The priſon of his tyranny who reigns
By our delay?—No! let us rather chooſe,
Arm'd with hell-flames and fury, all at once,
O'er heav'n's high towers to force reſiſtleſs way;
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Againſt our torturer—When to meet the noiſe
[34]Of his terrific engine, he ſhall hear
Infernal thunder, and for light'ning ſee
Black fire and horror ſhot with equal rage
Amongſt his angels—and his throne itſelf
Mixt with Tartarian ſulphur, and ſtrange fire;
His own invented torments—but perhaps
The way ſeems difficult and ſteep, to ſcale
With adverſe wing againſt a higher foe—
Let ſuch bethink them, if the ſleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benumb not ſtill,
That with our proper motion we aſcend
Up to our native ſeat—deſcent and fall
To us are adverſe—Who but felt of late,
When our fierce foe hung on our broken rear,
Inſulting and purſued thro' the deep,
With what compulſion and laborious flight
We ſunk thus low? The aſcent is eaſy then—
Th' event is fear'd—Should we again provoke
Our enemy, ſome worſe way he may find
To our deſtruction; if there be in hell
Fear to be worſe deſtroy'd—What can be worſe
Than to dwell here?—Driven out from bliſs, condemn'd
From this abhorred deep to utter woe,
Where pain of unextinguiſhable fire
Muſt exerciſe us, without hope of end;
The vaſſals of his anger, when the ſcourge
Inexorable, and the tort'ring hour
Calls us to penance? More deſtroyed than thus
We muſt be quite aboliſhed and expire.
What fear we then? what doubt we to incenſe
His utmoſt ire? which to the height enraged
Will either quite conſume us, and reduce
To nothing this eſſential: happier far
Than miſerable to have eternal being.
Or if our ſubſtance be indeed divine,
[35]And cannot ceaſe to be, we are at worſt
On this ſide nothing; and by proof we feel
Our pow'r ſufficient to diſturb his heav'n;
And with perpetual inroads to alarm,
Tho' inacceſſible, his fatal throne:
Which if not victory is yet revenge.

A Climax of jealous Rage Shakeſpeare give us in the following lines.

I had been happy if the general camp
(Pioneers and all) had taſted her ſweet body,
So I had nothing known—Oh, now, for ever
Farewel the tranquil mind! farewel content!
Farewel the plumed troops, and the big war
That make ambition virtue! O farewel!
Farewel the neighing ſteed, and the ſhrill trump;
The ſpirit-ſtirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner; and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumſtance of glorious war!
And, oh, ye mortal engines, whoſe rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone.

A Climax of more Rapidity, proceeding from a ſudden Burſt of Grief, Shakeſpeare gives as follows.

Come, ſhew me what thoul't do!
Woo't weep? woo't faſt? woo't fight? woo't tear thyſelf?
Woo't drink up Eiſel, eat a crocodile?
I'll do't!—Doſt thou come hither but to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and ſo will I!
And if thou prat'ſt of mountains, let them heap
[36]Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing its pate againſt the burning zone,
Make Oſſa like a wart.

Any perſon who can do juſtice to theſe, or ſimilar paſſages, either by genius or inſtruction, may claim a ſufficient knowledge of climax; which, however, as well as emphaſis, is farther explained under the term MODULATION.

If we conſider the human voice through the whole extent of its ſeveral diviſions, we ſhall eaſily diſcover that nothing can require more the aſſiſtance of art to render it pleaſing and expreſſive.

The art of harmonious expreſſion is diſtinguiſhed by the term modulation; for the better comprehending of which let us borrow a diviſion from muſic; counter-tenor, tenor, and baſe, or upper, medium, and lower notes. Every one of theſe, ſo far as reading and declamation extend, may be found or created, more or leſs perfectly, in every voice, according to the organs of utterance, and the proper uſe of thoſe organs; it then remains properly to appropriate each of the diviſions.

To all plaintive, amorous paſſages, humble inſinuation, flattery, and frequently to exclamations of joy and diſtractions, the counter-tenor is moſt properly applied, as will appear from the following examples, firſt from Otway, in the plaintive ſtrain.

Oh, Belvidera! doubly I'm a beggar;
Undone by Fortune, and in debt to thee;
Want, worldly want, that hungry meagre fiend,
Is at my heels, and chaces me in view.
Canſt thou bear cold and hunger? Can theſe limbs,
[37]Fram'd for the tender offices of love,
Endure the bitter gripes of ſmarting poverty?
When baniſh'd by our miſeries abroad,
(As ſuddenly we ſhall be) to ſeek out
In ſome far climate, where our names are ſtrangers,
For charitable ſuccour;—wilt thou then,
When in a bed of ſtraw we ſhrink together,
And the bleak winds ſhall whiſtle round our heads,
Wilt thou then talk thus to me? Wilt thou then
Huſh my cares thus, and ſhelter me with love?
Venice Preſerv'd.

Inſtance of the amorous Style, from Lee.

—No more of this, no more; for I diſdain
All pomp when thou art by. Far be the noiſe
Of kings and courts from us, whoſe gentle ſouls
Our kinder ſtars have ſteer'd another way.
Free as the foreſt-birds we'll pair together,
Without rememb'ring who our fathers were;
Fly to the arbours, grots, and flow'ry meads,
And in ſoft murmurs interchange our ſouls;
Together drink the chryſtal of the ſtream,
Or taſte the yellow fruit which Autumn yields;
And, when the golden ev'ning calls us home,
Wing to our downy neſt, and ſleep till morn.
Theodoſius.

Humility and Inſinuation are thus happily ſet forth by Shakeſpeare.

Thus, Brutus, did my maſter did me kneel;
Thus did Marc Antony bid me fall down,
And, being proſtrate, thus he bade me ſay:
Brutus is noble, valiant, wiſe, and honeſt;
Caeſar was mighty, royal, bold, and loving:
Say I love Brutus, and I honour him;
Say I fear'd Caeſar, honour'd him and lov'd him.
[38]If Brutus will vouchſafe that Antony
May ſafely come to him, and be reſolv'd
How Caeſar hath deſerv'd to lie in death,
Marc Antony ſhall not love Caeſar dead
So well as Brutus living; but will follow
The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus,
Thorough the hazards of this untrod ſtate,
With all true faith.
Julius Caeſar.

Diſſimulation, which requires the ſame tone of expreſſion, we find in theſe lines of Young.

It hurts not me, my lord, but as I love you:
Warmly as you I wiſh Don Carlos well;
But I am likewiſe Don Alonzo's friend:
There all the difference lies between us two.
In me, my lord, you hear another ſelf,
And give me leave to add, a better too;
Clear'd from thoſe errors, which, tho' born of virtue,
Are ſuch as may hereafter give you pain.—
Revenge.

Inſtances of Exclamation in Joy and Rage are thus ſet forth by Shakeſpeare.

—Oh my ſoul's joy!
If after every tempeſt come ſuch calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death;
And let the lab'ring bark climb hills of ſeas
Olympus high, and duck again as low
As hell's from heav'n—
—Whip me, ye devils,
From the poſſeſſion of this heav'nly ſight;
Blow me about in winds, roaſt me in ſulphur,
Waſh me in ſteep down gulfs of liquid fire—
Othello.

[39] Of Deſpair, from Sophocles.

‘"Alas! alas! the truth now appears too plainly—oh, light! this is the laſt time I ſhall behold thee—alas! alas! wretched man, where am I?—whence comes it that my voice ſo ſuddenly fails me?—oh, fortune, whither art thou fled? unhappy, wretched man that I am!—I feel a raging anguiſh, while I think of my misfortunes!—oh, friends, what can I now ſee, or love, or entertain, or hear with comfort?—oh, friends! immediately forſake a wretch, an execrable wretch; abhorr'd of Gods and men!—Curſed be the man that unlooſed my fetters, and ſaved me in the deſart, where I was expoſed—he did me no real kindneſs. I might then have died with leſs ſorrow to myſelf and friends; I ſhould neither have become the ſanguine murderer of my father, nor the inceſtuous huſband of my mother!"’

The preceding examples may ſuffice for the upper tones of voice; which, however, ſhould never be ſuffered to run into feigned ſqueaking, or unnatural ſoftneſs.

The middle notes, or tenor of expreſſion, ſuit all common narrations, diſſertations, and thoſe parts of declamation which do not touch upon the paſſions. I preſume it would be deemed ſuperfluous to give various examples of what every book which preſents itſelf for peruſal calls for in general; therefore I ſhall only tranſcribe one ſhort paſſage from Milton for the medium notes.

—Know that in the ſoul
Are many leſſer faculties, that ſerve
Reaſon as chief: among theſe Fancy next
[40]Her office holds: of all external things
Which the five watchful ſenſes repreſent,
She forms imagination's airy ſhapes,
Which reaſon, joining or disjoining, frames
All that we affirm, or what deny, and call
Our knowledge or opinion; then retires
Into her private cell, where nature reſts.
Oft in her abſence mimic fancy wakes
To imitate her; but misjoining ſhapes
Wild work produces oft, and moſt in dreams,
Ill matching words and deeds, long paſt or late.
Paradiſe Loſt.

That degree of expreſſion I term baſe, is particularly well applied to gloomy meditation, paſſages of horror, the invocation of fiends, cynical roughneſs, and vindictive rage.—Inſtance of Gloomy Reflection, from Young.

Whether firſt nature, or long want of peace,
Has wrought my mind to this, I cannot tell;
But horrors now are not diſpleaſing to me;
I like this rocking of the battlements.
Rage on, ye winds, burſt clouds, and waters roar!
Ye bear a juſt reſemblance of my fortune,
And ſuit the gloomy habit of my ſoul.
Revenge.

An Example of Horror we have in theſe Lines of Rowe.

—An univerſal horror
Struck thro' my eyes, and chill'd my very heart;
The cheerful day was every where ſhut out
With care, and left a more than midnight darkneſs,
Such as might ev'n be felt: a few dim lamps,
[41]That feebly lifted up their ſickly heads,
Look'd faintly thro' the ſhade, and made it ſeem
More diſmal by ſuch light; while thoſe who waited
In ſolemn ſorrow, mix'd with wild amazement,
Obſerv'd a dreadful ſilence.

Inſtance of Horror from Shakeſpeare.

Is this a dagger which I ſee before me?
The handle toward my hand? come let me clutch thee—
I have thee not—and yet I ſee thee ſtill.
Art thou not, fatal viſion, ſenſible
To feeling as to ſight! or art thou but
A dagger of the mind—a falſe creation
Proceeding from the heat oppreſſed brain?
I ſee thee yet—in form as palpable
As that which now I draw—
Thou marſhal'ſt me the way that I was going,
And ſuch an inſtrument I was to uſe,
Mine eyes are made the fools of th' other ſenſes,
Or elſe worth all the reſt—I ſee thee ſtill,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood
Which was not ſo before—there's no ſuch thing—
It is the bloody buſineſs which informs
Thus to mine eyes—now o'er one half the world
Nature ſeems dead—and wicked dreams abuſe
The curtain'd ſleep—now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wi [...]her'd murther
Alarum'd by his ſentinel the wolf,
Whoſe howl's his watch, thus with his ſtealthy pace,
With Tarquin's raviſhing ſtrides tow'rds his deſign
[42]Moves like a ghoſt—thou ſound and firm ſet earth
Hear not my ſteps which way they walk, for fear
Thy very ſtones prate of my whereabout,
And take the preſent horror from the time
Which now ſuits with it.—
Macbeth.

Invocation of Jealouſy, from Mallet.

—Thou jealouſy!
Almighty tyrant of the human mind,
Who canſt at will unſettle the calm brain,
O'erturn the ſcaled heart, and ſhake the man
Thro' all his frame, with tempeſt and diſtraction,
Riſe to my preſent aid: call up thy powers,
Thy furious fears, thy blaſt of dreadful paſſion;
Thy whips, ſnakes, mortal ſtings, thy hoſt of horrors:
Rouſe thy whole war againſt him, and complete
My purpos'd vengeance.

Invocation of Fiends, from Young.

Ye pow'rs of darkneſs who rejoice in ill,
All ſworn by Styx, with peſtilential blaſts
To wither every virtue in the bud:
To keep the door of dark conſpiracy,
And ſnuff the grateful fumes of human blood;
From ſulphur blue, or your red beds of fire,
On your black ebon thrones auſpicious riſe;
And, burſting thro' the barriers of this world,
Stand in dread contraſt to the golden ſun;
Fright day-light hence with your infernal ſmiles,
And howl aloud your formidable joy.

[43] The following Paſſages of Enraged Diſcontent, from Rowe, claim the under Notes of Expreſſion.

Come, lead me to my dungeon; plunge me down
Deep from the hated ſight of man and day;
Where, under covert of the friendly darkneſs,
My ſoul may brood at leiſure o'er her ſorrows.
* * * * * * * *
I tell thee, ſlave, I have ſhook hands with Hope,
And all my thoughts are rage, deſpair, and horror.
Tamerlane.

Theſe Lines of the ſame Author preſent us with Cynical Roughneſs and Contempt.

—Yes, thou haſt thy ſex's virtues;
Their affectation, pride, ill-nature, noiſe,
Proneneſs to change even from the joy that pleas'd them;
So gracious is your idol, dear Variety,
That for another love you would forego
An angel's form, to mingle with a devil's.
Tamerlane.

Picture of deep Diffident Cruelty from Shakeſpeare.

Good friend, thou haſt no cauſe to ſay ſo yet,
But thou ſhalt have—and creep time ne'er ſo ſlow,
Yet it ſhall come for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to ſay—but let it go—
The ſun is in the heav'ns, and the proud day,
Attended by the pleaſures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gauds,
To give me audience—if the midnight bell,
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
[44]Sound one unto the drowſy race of night;
If this ſame were a churchyard where we ſtand,
Or thou poſſeſſed with a thouſand wrongs;
Or if that ſurly ſpirit melancholy
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy thick;
Which elſe runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making the ideot laughter keep mens eyes,
And ſtrain their cheeks with idle merriment,
(A paſſion hateful to my purpoſes)
Or if thou could'ſt ſee me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue—uſing conceit alone—
Then in deſpite of broad-ey'd, watchful day,
I would into thy boſom pour my thoughts—&c.
King John.

Having thus given examples for each of the three diviſions of voice, it becomes neceſſary to remark, that the variations in each are many; and that the appropriations I have made are only meant in general. There are certainly ſeveral exceptions; but theſe muſt be left to the inſtructor's or ſtudent's diſcernment, as entering into every particular would be, if not impracticable, at leaſt intolerably tedious.

PAUSES next preſent themſelves to conſideration, and chiefly occur in meditation, doubt, or confuſion: no exact time can be fixed for them, but they ought to be made longer or ſhorter according to the importance of the ſubject; and in moſt, eſpecially paſſages of reflection, the voice ſhould have a tone of continuance, which conſtitutes the difference between a pauſe and break; the former is a gradual ſtop, the latter a ſudden check of expreſſion.

[45] Pauſes of the firſt ſort occur in the following lines of Shakeſpeare; and, as the ſubject is of great weight, ſhould be of conſiderable duration, perhaps while one could number ſix, or a period and half to each.

It muſt be by his death: and for my part
I know no perſonal cauſe to ſpurn at him,
But for the general.—He would be crown'd—
How that might change his nature—there's the queſtion—
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking: crown him—that—
And then I grant we put a ſting in him,
Which, at his will, he may do danger with.
Julius Caeſar.

Or theſe Lines, from the ſame Author.

To be—or not to be—that is the queſtion:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to ſuffer
The ſlings and arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take arms againſt a ſea of troubles,
And by oppoſing end them—To die—to ſleep—
No more;—and by that ſleep to ſay we end
The heart-ach, and the thouſand natural ſhocks
That fleſh is heir to—'tis a conſummation
Devoutly to be wiſh'd.—To die—to ſleep—
To ſleep! perchance to dream:—Ay, there's the rub:
For in that ſleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have ſhuffled off this mortal coil,
Muſt give us pauſe.—
Hamlet.

[46] Pauſes of confuſion are ſhorter than thoſe of reflection, and are to be fill'd up with heſitative panting breath, while every ſucceeding word or ſentence varies in tone of expreſſion from the former:—inſtances from Shakeſpeare, as follow;

Nay, good Lieutenant—alas, gentlemen—
Help, ho!—Lieutenant!—Sir—Montano—
Help, Maſters!—here's a goodly watch indeed!—
Who's that?—Who rings that bell?—Diablo?—Ho!
The town will riſe—
Othello.
* * * * * * * *
Yes; 'tis Emilia—by and by—ſhe's dead.
'Tis like ſhe comes to ſpeak of Caſſio's death.
The noiſe was high.—Ha! no more moving?—
Still as the grave—ſhall ſhe come in? were't good!
I think ſhe ſtirs again—no—What's the beſt?—
Othello.

Every diſcerning reader will readily perceive that the latter example is of a ſtronger, but ſlower confuſion than the former.

BREAKS, as I have before hinted, are only pauſes of a different nature, more abrupt and ſudden, as when a paſſion cuts ſhort before the meaning is fully explained: theſe moſt frequently occur in violent grief and impetuous rage; and the tone of voice alters as the paſſion riſes or falls. One general rule in the expreſſion of grief is, that, when gradual, the tones ſhould ſwell pathetically; but, when ſudden, they ſhould burſt forth and break the voice, ſtill avoiding any diſſonant ſcream [47] or croak.—In theſe lines of Shakeſpeare we find pauſes of grief ſwelling ſlowly, and working upon themſelves.

I prithee, Daughter, do not make me mad!—
I will not trouble thee, my Child—farewell.—
We'll meet no more—no more ſee one another;—
Let ſhame come when it will, I do not call it;—
I do not bid the Thunder-bearer ſtrike,
Nor tell tales of thee to avenging Heav'n:
Mend when thou canſt—be better at thy leiſure;—
I can be patient—I can ſtay with Regan.—
King Lear.

Examples of Breaks in Impetuous Rage as follow.

—Darkneſs and devils!—
Saddle my horſes—call my train together;—
Degenerate viper—I'll not ſtay with thee!
I yet have left a daughter—ſerpent! monſter!
Leſſen my train, and call 'em riotous!
All men approv'd—of choice and rareſt parts,
That each particular of duty know.—
—doſt thou underſtand me, man?
The King would ſpeak with Cornwall;—the dear father
Would with his daughter ſpeak:—commands her ſervice,
Are they inform'd of this?—My breath, and blood—
Fiery—the fiery Duke!—tell the hot Duke that—
No—but not yet, may be he is not well.—
King Lear.

[48]Having thus particularly and diſtinctly explained the proper application of the three grand diviſions of the voice, in order to bring what has been ſaid into a narrow compaſs, and to place it in one point of view, I ſhall produce for an example the Seven Ages of Shakeſpeare, and mark the lines according to the variations; which, agreeable to the foregoing obſervations, ought to be made in ſpeaking or in reading this paſſage. The counter-tenor, or upper notes, I diſtinguiſh by italics; the tenor, or medium, retain the common type; and the baſe is marked by CAPITALS.

All the world's a ſtage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And each man in his time plays many parts;
His acts being ſeven ages.—Firſt the infant,
Mewling and pewking in the nurſe's arms:
And then the whining ſchool-boy, with his ſatchel
And ſhining morning face, creeping like ſnail,
Unwillingly to ſchool;—and then the lover,
Sighing, like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his miſtreſs' eye-brow:—then a ſoldier,
Full of ſtrange oaths, and bearded like a pard;
Jealous in honour—ſudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Ev'n in the cannon's mouth: and then the JUSTICE,
IN FAIR ROUND BELLY WITH GOOD CAPON LIN'D,
WITH EYES SEVERE, AND BEARD OF FORMAL CUT,
[49]FULL OF WISE SAWS AND MODERN INSTANCES;
And ſo he plays his part: the ſixth age ſhifts
Into the lean and ſlipper'd pantaloon;
With ſpectacles on noſe, and pouch on ſide,
His youthful hoſe well ſav'd, a world too wide
For his ſhrunk ſhanks; and his big manly voice
Turning again towards childiſh treble, pipes
And whiſtles in the ſound—Laſt ſcene of all,
Which ends this ſtrange eventful hiſtory,
Is ſecond childiſhneſs and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, ſans eyes, ſans taſte, ſans every thing.

Every emphaſis and variation of voice ſhould be founded on reaſon; it may be proper, therefore, to ſhow why the ſeveral parts of the preceding lines are thus diſtinguiſhed. In the firſt age of infancy, the upper notes are moſt deſcriptive of that tender time, as they are alſo of the whimpering ſchool-boy; and their ſoftneſs likewiſe ſuits the ſighing of the lover. The forward confidence of the ſoldier demands a full-ſpirited medium; and the corpulent importance, generally imputed to magiſtracy, is well pictured by the jolly ſwell of the baſe notes, while the feebleneſs of faſt declining age calls for the counter-tenor, tremulated, as it were, with weakneſs.

Thus much for general explanation, which I have delivered in as full and clear a manner as the nature of my deſign would poſſibly admit; and, having ſet forth ſuch examples as, explained by teachers, or carefully inveſtigated by ſtudents, may give a full idea of what is intended, I ſhall proceed to ſome brief remarks upon utterance and [50] action, in which, though it is not probable that many will excel, yet moſt may be improved.

Firſt then, if a voice is naturally harſh, great care ſhould be taken to avoid guttural expreſſion; nor ſhould the tongue be allowed to play too much between the teeth; the breath, drawn, as it were, from the ſtomach, and vibrated upon within the mouth, will ſoften harſh notes, and render them much more tuneable; on the contrary, a weak ſhrill voice ſhould borrow ſolidity and force from the throat: as too great an expanſion of the lips is diſgraceful to the features, ſo unnatural contraction of them will render expreſſion unmeaning and imperfect.

Stops and cadences are a moſt eſſential point of conſideration, and cannot be better ſet forth than in the following remarks of a French author:

'It is neceſſary for us,' ſays he, 'to reſpire from time to time, but the voice does not repoſe equally at the concluſion of every ſenſe; in a ſentence of conſiderable length, we reſpire at every comma; but this ſhort pauſe is made in ſuch a manner as to ſhow, by the tone of continuance, that we are to go farther, the ear remaining unſatisfied, becauſe the pronunciation continues ſuſpended till the ſentence is completely finiſhed; as for example: At ſuch a time, the King, having taken theſe matters into conſideration, determined, here Attention is inquiſitive to know what follows; the colon and ſemicolon are marks of more conſiderable reſpiration, yet ſtill leave Judgment in ſuſpence till the period unfolds the whole, and calls for a concluding cadence.

'In every part, or parts of a ſentence there is elevation and depreſſion of the voice, which never abſolutely repoſes but at the concluſion of [51] a period, all other reſpiration being of continuance.'

There is undoubtedly much judgment in the compoſition of harmonious and comprehenſive periods; a diſſonant unconnected ſtyle will take greatly from the beauty and force of expreſſion, as a diſcordant piece of muſic muſt diſgrace a performance of the ableſt maſter, and injure the utterance of the moſt perfect inſtruments.

Frequent uſe ſtrengthens and meliorates the organs of expreſſion, and practice will teach a moſt eſſential point, that of pitching the voice to any place or number of perſons. There is conſiderable nicety in knowing the different effect which the ſame notes of voice may have in places of equal dimenſions, but of different conſtruction, of a place containing but few auditors, or thronged with a large number; and this point of excellence muſt be attained by much practice and obſervation. Only thus much may be obſerved in general of the operations of ſound; that where it undulates conſiderably, the louder a reader or declaimer goes beyond the juſt pitch, the more indiſtinct he will be, of which we find very frequent inſtances in cathedral churches: a full audience in any place will require at leaſt twice the force of expreſſion of a thin one; which, excluſive of ſome buzz that muſt unavoidably attend a numerous aſſembly, may be philoſophically accounted for by an eſſential denſity of air, from the conjunct reſpiration of ſo many people.

The voice being pitched, and modulated thro' the ſeveral variations which may be found neceſſary, it remains to conſider, to comprehend, and to feel the ſubject; without which expreſſion muſt be languid, unaffecting, and weariſome. What we [52] read or ſpeak unfelt, muſt be like painting without light or ſhade; there may be juſt ſymmetry of parts and good colouring; but unleſs they are raiſed and brought forward, both pall on the view, and die upon the canvaſs.

Spirit and feeling are neceſſary to idea as well as to ſight; for which reaſon teachers ſhould not only make their pupils underſtand every word they read, but their general ſenſe in a ſtate of connection: a point of care ſeldom attended to.

Emphatic expreſſion, feeling, and taſte, are particularly eſſential to poetry, as that, in general, appeals oftner to the paſſions than any other ſpecies of writing. Cadences alſo are more critical in numbers than in proſe; in both they ſhould be ſmooth, gradual, and die away almoſt inſenſibly, yet ſo as to preſerve and to impreſs the laſt ſyllable both upon the ear and mind, without ſnapping ſhort the breath or ſound, which is extremely grating to a judicious hearer.

How often is verſe of every kind miſerably mangled! A ſort of unmeaning pedantic recitative, tedious from a repetition of miſplaced unharmonious tones, is ſubſtituted for dignity; thus we find many, who make a tolerable ſhift with proſe, the moment they ſee any number of meaſured ſyllables, throw aſide nature, reaſon, nay even common ſenſe, to diſplay their knowledge of verſification, and what they think its peculiar importance.—What can be more abſurd? Genuine poetry needs no pompous affectation to dignify it; for as by tranſpoſing the words you cannot reduce it to proſe, neither can you take from its harmony by plain, natural expreſſion.

I know not any thing which has done our language, and the reading of it, more injury than the [53] gingle of rhime, eſpecially that which is thrown into heroic meaſure, it being certain that the more correct an author in that way is, the more he will lead to monotony. Inſtance Mr. Pope, who has been ſo critically exact in accenting particular ſyllables, that very few of his pieces can be read with any tolerable variation of voice; for which reaſon I would have learners kept from rhime in heroic meaſure till they are well grounded in a juſt mode of utterance. Indeed we are not to wonder that the generality chaunt verſe in ſo lamentable a manner, when ſome of thoſe who have ſketched rules for reading, inſiſt upon ſuch a ſervile obedience to the author, as not only to change the accented ſyllable, but even to favour his bad rhime, with falſe pronunciation; for example, to ſound the laſt ſyllable of liberty, as an exact rhime either to flee or fly.—To preſcribe a ſtop or half pauſe at the end of a line, whether the ſenſe requires it or not, is another rule that has been given, equally erroneous and diſguſtful.

In reading, properly ſo called, action has no concern, but declamation is very defective without it; yet, except upon the ſtage, and among many there miſerably methodized, we ſcarce find any.—When I recommend action, I would not be ſuppoſed to intend that a ſpeaker ſhould be in continual motion; or that, puppet-like, he is to lift up firſt one hand and then another, merely to lay them down again.—No—I would have motions few, eaſy, graceful; and, for my own part, I know not how a declaimer can poſſibly feel and ſtand ſtock-ſtill: but, admit the poſſibility of this, I will venture to ſay there is but little probability that his audience will think him in earneſt: I know that ſome delicate perſons are afraid of becoming [54] too theatrical; but there is a very wide difference between the action of an orator and an actor, unleſs when the latter judiciouſly repreſents the former; but I ſhall no further urge the neceſſity of a point ſo obvious, let us proceed to the thing itſelf.

Firſt, then, action ſhould be entirely reſerved for thoſe paſſages which contain ſomewhat intereſting or important, as demonſtration, or the enforcing of a charge. This ſhould be attended with the right arm ſtretched forward to the full extent, the fingers even, and the palm of the hand downwards, or ſometimes the hand turned ſideways, the fore finger only pointing: if the circumſtance demonſtrated, or given in charge, be very momentous, the well known and admired action of St. Paul preaching at Athens, ſtretching forth both arms, palms downwards, has much force and propriety.

Where grief is to be expreſſed, the right hand laid ſlowly to the left breaſt, the head and cheſt bending forward, is a juſt indication of it. To expreſs confidence and reſolution, the ſame hand muſt move to the ſame place, but with quickneſs and vigour, recoiling as it were from the heart, which thereby ſeems to meet it. With this action the head ſhould be thrown back and the cheſt forward. The expreſſion of ardent affection, is to cloſe both hands warmly at half arm's length, the fingers intermingling, and to bring them to the breaſt with ſpirit. If expanſion of mind, or any thing ſimilar, is to be pointed out, then both arms ſhould be caſt different ways, in a parallel line, and the cheſt thrown open. Folding arms, with a drooping of the head, deſcribe contemplation; erection of the head ſpeaks dignity, or, with ſuitable [55] features, contempt. There are ſome few other inſtances of action which may be graceful, and ſerves for variation, though not abſolutely neceſſary; but theſe muſt be left to the choice and diſcretion of the declaimer, and to the unconſtrained operation of judicious feeling: only thus much it may be neceſſary to obſerve, that the left hand ſhould ſeldom or never be uſed by itſelf; and that all action ſhould move between the tip of the ſhoulder and the ſeat of the heart; all above is what Shakeſpeare juſtly ſtyles ſawing the air; all below both unmeaning and ungraceful. Upon the whole, every motion ſhould be the natural attendant of what is ſpoken: if an extreme cannot be avoided, I would rather recommend no action than too much, or than ſuch as muſt offend judicious eyes.—Attitudes, or poſitions of the body, when happily ſtruck off and well applied, are not only pictureſque but ſtriking, all deſcription of them with a pen muſt be faint and confuſed, wherefore we refer to the pencil of ſome able painter.

To what has been already offer'd we ſhall ſubjoin ſome uſeful remarks from an ingenious Treatiſe on the Art of Speaking.

"If nature, unaſſiſted, could form the eminent ſpeaker, where were the uſe of art and culture? which no one pretends to queſtion: art is but nature improved upon and refined; and before improvement is applied, genius is but a maſs of ore in the mine, without luſtre and without value, becauſe unknown and unthought of: the ancients uſed to procure maſters for pronunciation from the theatres, and had youth taught geſture and attitude, by the Palaeſtritae, who taught much the ſame among them, as dancing-maſters do among us.

[56]"It is well when a youth has no natural impediment or defect in his ſpecch; and I ſhould by no means adviſe that he who has, be brought up to any profeſſion requiring elocution; yet there are inſtances of natural defects ſurmounted; and eminent ſpeakers formed by indefatigable diligence in ſpite of them; DEMOSTHENES when he began to ſtudy rhetoric, could not pronounce the firſt letter of the name of that art; and CICERO was long-necked and narrow cheſted; but diligent labour, in what we are earneſt upon, ſurmounts all difficulties, that are not too deeply rooted in nature: for want of proper application we are frequently diſguſted by public ſpeakers liſping, ſtammering, and ſpeaking thro' the noſe; pronouncing the letter k with the throat, inſtead of the tongue, s like th, and ſcreaming above, or croaking below all natural pitch of human voice.

Some unexperienced attempters at oratory mumble as if they were conjuring up ſpirits; others bawl as loud as ſtreet hawkers; ſome ſo precipitate in expreſſion that no ear can diſtinguiſh; others drag words like the heavy pauſes of a great clock ſtriking; ſome have got a diſagreeable habit of ſhrugging up their ſhoulders; others of ſee-ſawing their bodies backwards and forwards, or from ſide to ſide; ſome open their mouths frightfully, others keep their teeth ſo cloſe as if the jaws were ſet; all which, with many other bad, diſgraceful habits, ſhould either be got the better of in early life, or the young perſons put into ſome other path than that of public ſpeaking: neglect of this, occaſions ſuch confirmation of deficiency, that not one ſpeaker in twenty knows what to do with his hands, voice, or eyes.

[57]"Some actors, who ſhould moſt particularly apply to feeling and attention, who ſhould moſt ſtrictly regard decorum, are guilty of monſtrous improprieties as to management of the eyes in particular; to look full at the audience when ſpeaking a ſoliloquy, or a ſpeech aſide, is intolerable; a performer ſhould not in theatrical ſtation ſeem conſcious of an audience, or that there is a ſpectator looking on; and one peculiar fault in performers is, that they don't in general keep a fixed eye on thoſe they ſpeak to, even in impaſſioned dialogue: from whatever cauſe we may derive this diſgraceful, enfeebling inattention, it is ſeverely cenſurable."

It being far beyond the limits of our deſign to enter upon the general minutiae of our ſubject, we refer our readers for a circumſtantial deſcription of the effects which various affections and paſſions have upon the human features, to the ſtudious treatiſe we have juſt now quoted from; publiſhed by LONGMAN and BUCKLAND, Pater-noſter-row; though we think great part of it more curious than uſeful, for where the mind by nature, or repreſentation properly feels, the features will operate conſonantly; if words and looks are contrary, no ſympathy can be gained; in which caſe the main point is loſt.

Notes
*
Falſe eloquence, like the priſniatic glaſs,
Its gaudy colours ſpreads on every place;
The face of nature we no more ſurvey,
All glares alike, without diſtinction gay;
But true expreſſion, like the unchanging ſun,
Clears and improves whate'er it ſhines upon;
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
Expreſſion is the dreſs of thought; and ſtill,
Appears more decent, as more ſuitable.
POPE on Criticiſm.
*
All words printed in Italic (except proper names) are thoſe on which the emphaſis is to be laid; but words in CAPITALS require a more powerful emphaſis.
*
This important point is very judiciouſly enforced by Mr. Hull, in a note on one of Mr. Preſton's Genuine Letters— ‘"He objected to the abſurd cuſtom practiſed then, as at this day, of ſuffering children to learn to read from the Bible; whence they too often contract a diſtaſte to the moſt edifying and important volume, that can, in the proceſs of their lives, be laid before them." Vol. I. Letter 53. Page 241.
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TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3735 Introduction to Shakespeare s plays containing an essay on oratory. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5D93-6