fame breath, and without the leaft feparation. Many a fentence is miferably mangled, and the force of the emphafis totally loft, by divifions being made in the wrong place. To avoid this, every one, while he is fpeaking, thould be very careful to provide a full fupply of breath for what he is to utter. It is a great miftake to imagine, that the breath muft be drawn only at the end of a period, when the voice is allowed to fall. It may eafily be gathered at the intervals of the period, when the voice is only fufpended for a moment; and, by this management, one may have always a fufficient flock for carrying on the longeft fentence, without improper interruptions.

If any one, in pub'ic fpeaking, fhall have formed to himself a certain melody or tune, which requires reft and paufes of its own, diftinct from thofe of the fenfe, he has, undoubtedly, contracted one of the worst habits into which a public fpeaker can fall. It is the fenfe which fhould always rule the paufes of the voice; for wherever there is any fenfible fufpenfion of the voice, the hearer is always led to expect fomething correfponding in the meaning. Paufes in public difcourfe, muft be formed upon the manner in which we utter ourselves in ordinary, fenfible converfation; and not upon the ftiff, artificial manner which we acquire from reading bocks according to the common punctuation. The general run of punctuation is very arbitrary; often capricious and falfe; and dictates an uniformity of tone in the paufes, which is extremely difagreeable: for we are to obferve, that to render paufes graceful and expreflive, they must not only be made in the right place, but alfo be accompanied with a proper tone of voice, by which the nature of thefe paufes is intimated; much more than by the length of them, which can never be exactly meafured. Sometimes it is only a flight and fimple fufpenfion of voice that is proper; fometimes a degree of cadence in the voice is required; and fometimes that peculiar tone and cadence, which denotes the fentence finished. In all thefe cafes, we are to regulate ourselves, by attending to the manner in which nature teaches us to fpeak when engaged in real and earneft difcourfe with others.

When we are reading or reciting verfe, there is a peculiar difficulty in making the paufes jufly. The difficulty arifes from Le melody of verfe, which dictates to the

ear paufes or refts of its own; and to ađjuft and compound thefe properly with the paufes of the fenfe, fo as neither to hurt the ear, nor offend the understanding, is fo very nice a matter, that it is no wonder we fo feldom meet with good readers of poetry. There are two kinds of paufes that belong to the music of verfe; one is, the paufe at the end of the line; and the other, the cæfural paufe in the middle of it. With regard to the paufe at the end of the line, which marks that ftrain or verse to be finished, rhyme renders this always fenfible, and in fome measure compels us to obferve it in our pronunciation. In blank verfe, where there is a greater liberty permitted of running the lines into one another, fometimes without any fufpenfion in the fenfe, it has been made a question, Whether, in reading such verse with propriety, any regard at all should be paid to the clofe of a line? On the stage, where the appearance of speaking in verfe fhould always be avoided, there can, I think, be no doubt, that the clofe of fuch lines as make no paufe in the sense, should not be rendered perceptible to the ear. But on other occafions, this were improper: for what is the ufe of melody, or for what end has the poet compofed in verfe, if, in reading his lines, we fupprefs his numbers; and degrade them, by our pronunciation, into mere profe? We ought, therefore, certainly to read blank verfe fo as to make every line fenfible to the ear. At the fame time, in doing fo, every appearance of fing-fong and tone must be carefully guarded againft. The clofe of the line, where it makes no paufe in the meaning, ought to be marked, not by fuch a tone as is ufed in finishing a sentence, but without either letting the voice fall or elevating it, it should be marked only by fuch a flight fufpenfion of found, as may diftinguish the paffage from one line to another, without injuring the meaning.

The other kind of mufical paufe, is that which falls fomewhere about the middle of the verfe, and divides it into two hemiflichs; a paufe, not fo great as that which belongs to the clofe of the line, but ftill fenfible to an ordinary ear. This, which is called the cæfural paufe, in the French heroic verfe, falls uniformly in the middle of the line; in the English, it may fall after the 4th, 5th, 6th, or 7th fyllables in the line, and no other. Where the verfe is fo conftructed, that this cafural pause coincides with the flighteft paufe or divifion in

the

the fenfe, the line can be read eafily; as In the two first verfes of Mr. Pope's Meffiah,

Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the fong; To heavenly themes, fublimer strains belong; But if it fhall happen that words, which have such a strict and intimate connection, as not to bear even a momentary fepara tion, are divided from one another by this cæloral pause, we then feel a fort of truggle between the fenfe and the found, which renders it difficult to read fuch lines gracefully. The rule of proper pronunciation in fuch cafes is, to regard only the paule which the fenfe forms; and to read the line accordingly. The neglect of the cafural paufe may make the line found fomewhat unharmonioufly; but the effect would be much worfe, if the fenfe were facrificed to the found. For inftance, in the following line of Milton.

What in me is dark, Illumine; what is low, raife and fupport. The fenfe clearly dictates the paufe after "illumine," at the end of the third fyllable, which, in reading, ought to be made accordingly; though, if the melody only were to be regarded, "illumine" fhould be connected with what follows, and the paufe not made till the 4th or 6th fyllable. So in the following line of Mr. Pope's (Epiftle to Dr. Arbuthnot):

I fit, with fad civility I read;

The ear plainly points out the cæfural paufe as falling after "fad," the 4th fyllable. But it would be very bad reading to make any pause there, fo as to feparate "fad" and civility." The fenfe admits of no other paule than after the fecond fyllable fit," which therefore must be the only paule made in the reading.

I proceed to treat next of Tones in pronunciation, which are different both from emphafis and paufes; confifling in the modulation of the voice, the notes or variations of found which we employ in public fpeaking. How much of the propriety, the force and grace of difcourfe, muft depend on thefe, will appear from this fingle confideration; that to almost every fentiment we utter, more especially to every ftrong emotion, nature hath adapted fome peculiar tone of voice; infomuch, that he who should tell another that he was very angry, or much grieved, in a tone which did not fuit fuch emotions, instead of being believed, would

be laughed at. Sympathy is one of the moft powerful principles by which perfuafive difcourfe works its effect. The speaker endeavours to transfufe into his hearers his own fentiments and emotions; which he can never be fuccessful in doing, unless he utters them in fuch a manner as to convince the hearers that he feels them. The proper expreffion of tones, therefore, deferves to be attentively ftudied by every one who would be a fuccefsful orator.

The greatest and most material inflruction which can be given for this purpofe is, to form the tones of public fpeaking upon the tones of fenfible and animated converfation. We may obferve that every man, when he is much in earneft in common difcourfe, when he is engaged in fpeaking on fome fubject which interefts him nearly, has an eloquent or perfuafive tone and manner. What is the reafon of our being often fo frigid and unperfuafive in public difcourfe, but our departing from the natural tone of fpeaking, and delivering ourselves in an affected, artificial manner? Nothing can be more abfurd than to imagine, that as foon as one mounts a pulpit, or rifes in a public affembly, he is inftantly to lay afide the voice with which he expreffes himfelf in private; to affume a new, ftudied tone, and a cadence altogether foreign to his natural manner. This has vitiated all delivery; this has given rife to cant and tedious monotony, in the different kinds of modern public speaking, especially in the pulpit. Men departed from nature; and fought to give a beauty or force, as they imagined, to their difcourie, by fubftituting certain ftudied mufical tones, in the room of the genuine expreffions of fentiment, which the voice carries in natural difcourfe. Let every

public fpeaker guard against this error. Whether he speak in a private room, or in a great affembly, let him remember that he ftill fpeaks. Follow nature: confider how fhe teaches you to utter any fentiment or feeling of your heart. Imagine a subject of debate started in converfation among grave and wife men, and yourself bearing a fhare in it. Think after what manner, with what tones and inflexions of voice, you would on fuch an occafion exprefs yourself, when you were most in earnest, and fought moft to be liftened to. Carry these with you to the bar, to the pulpit, or to any public affembly; let thefe be the foundation of your manner of pronouncing there; and you will take the fureft method of rendering your delivery both agreeable and perfuafive.

I have faid, let thefe converfation tones be the foundation of public pronunciation; for, on fome occafions, folemn public fpeak. ing requires them to be exalted beyond the ftrain of common discourse. In a formal, ftudied oration, the elevation of the tyle, and the harmony of the fentences, prompt, almost neceffarily, a modulation of voice more rounded, and bordering more upon mufic, than converfation admits. This gives rife to what is called, the Declaiming Manner. But though this mode of pronunciation runs confiderably beyond ordidinary difcourfe, yet ftill it must have, for its bafis, the natural tones of grave and dignified converfation. I muft obferve, at the fame time, that the conftant indulgence of a declamatory manner, is not favourable either to good compofition, or good delivery; and is in hazard of betraying public fpeakers into that monotony of tone and cadence, which is fo generally complained of. Whereas, he who forms the general run of his delivery upon a speaking manner, is not likely ever to become difagreeable through monotony. He will have the fame natural variety in his tones, which a perfon has in converfation. Indeed, the perfection of delivery requires both thefe different manners, that of fpeaking with liveliness and eafe, and that of declaiming with ftateliness. and dignity, to be poffeffed by one man ; and to be employed by him, according as the different parts of his difcourfe require either the one or the other. This is a perfection which is not attained by many; the greatest part of public fpeakers allowing their delivery to be formed altogether accidentally, according as fome turn of voice appears to them most beautiful, or fome artificial model has caught their fancy; and

acquiring, by this means, a habit of pronunciation, which they can never vary. But the capital direction, which ought never to be forgotten, is, to copy the proper tones for expreffing every fentiment, from those which nature dictates to us in converfation with others; to speak always with her voice; and not to form to ourselves a fantaftic public manner, from an abfurd fancy of its being more beautiful than a natural one *.

It now remains to treat of Gefsture, or what is called Action in public discourse. Some nations animate their words in common converfation, with many more motions of the body than others do. The French and the Italians are, in this refpect, much more sprightly than we. But there is no nation, hardly any perfon fo phlegmatic, as not to accompany their words with fome actions and gefticulations, on all occafions, when they are much in earnest. therefore unnatural in a public speaker, it is inconfiftent with that earneftness and ferioufnefs which he ought to fhew in all affairs of moment, to remain quite unmoved in his outward appearance; and to let the words drop from his mouth, without any expreffion of meaning, or warmth in his gefture.

It is

The fundamental rule as to propriety of action, is undoubtedly the fame with what I gave as to propriety of tone. Attend to the looks and geftures, in which earnestness, indignation, compaffion, or any other emotion, difcovers itself to moft advantage in the common intercourse of men; and let thefe be your model. Some of these looks and gestures are common to all men; and there are alfo certain peculiarities of manner which distinguish every individual. A public fpeaker must take that manner which is moft natural to himself. For it is here just as in tones. It is not the bufinefs of a fpeaker to form to himfelf a certain fet of motions and gestures, which he thinks moft becoming and agreeable, aud to practife

thefe in public, without their having any correfpondence to the manner which is natural to him in private. His geftures and motions ought all to carry that kind of expreffion which nature has dictated to him; and, unless this be the cafe, it is impoffible, by means of any ftudy, to avoid their appearing ftiff and forced.

However, although nature must be the ground-work, I admit that there is room in this matter for fome ftudy and art. For many perfons are naturally ungraceful in the motions which they make; and this ungracefulness might, in part, at least, be reformed by application and care. The ftudy of action in public speaking, confiits chiefly in guarding againft awkward and difagreeable motions, and in learning to perform fuch as are natural to the speaker, in the most becoming manner. For this end, it has been advised by writers on this fubject, to practife before a mirror, where one may fee and judge of his own geftures. But I am afraid, perfons are not always the beft judges of the gracefulness of their own motions and one may declaim long enough before a mirror, without correcting any of his faults. The judgment of a friend, whofe good tafte they can truft, will be found of much greater advantage to beginners, than any mirror they can ufe. With regard to particular rules concerning action and geticulation, Quinctilian has delivered a great many, in the last chapter of the 11th Book of his Inftitutions; and all the modern writers on this fubject have done little elfe but tranflate them. I am Dot of opinion, that fuch rules delivered either by the voice or on paper, can be of much ufe, unless perfons faw them exemplified before their eyes *.

I fhall only add further on this head, that in order to fucceed well in delivery, nothing is more neceffary than for a fpeaker to guard against a certain flutter of pirits, which is peculiarly incident to those who begin to speak in public. He muft endeavour above all things to be recollected, and matter of himself. For this end, he will find nothing of more use to him, than to ftudy to become wholly engaged in his fubject; to be poffeffed with a fenfe of its importance or ferioufnefs; to be concerned much more to perfuade than to please. He will generally please moft, when pleafing is not his fole nor chief aim. This is the only rational and proper method of raifing one's felf above that timid and bashful regard to an audience, which is fo ready to difconcert a speaker, both as to what he is to fay, and as to his manner of faying it.

I cannot conclude, without an earnest admonition to guard against all affectation, which is the certain ruin of good delivery. Let your manner, whatever it is, be your own; neither imitated from another, nor affumed upon fome imaginary model, which is unnatural to you. Whatever is native, even though accompanied with several defects, yet is likely to please; because it fhows us a man; because it has the afpearance of coming from the heart. Whereas a delivery, attended with several acquired graces and beauties, if it be not eafy and free, if it betray the marks of art and affectation, never fails to difguft. To . attain any extremely correct, and perfectly graceful delivery, is what few can expect; fo many natural talents being requifite to concur in forming it. But to attain, what as to the effect is very little inferior, a forcible and perfuafive manner, is within the

be more frequently employed. Warm emotions demand the motion of both hands correfponding together. But whether one gefticulates with one or with both hands, it is an important rule, that all his motions fhould be free and eafy. Narrow and traitened movements are generally ungraceful; for which reafon, motions made with the hands are directed to proceed from the shoulder, rather than from the elbow. Perpendicular move. ments too with the hands, that is, in the ftraight line up and down, which Shakespeare, in Hamlet, calls," fawing the air with the hand," are feldom good. Oblique motions are, in general, the most graceful. Too fudden and nimble motions fhould be likewife avoided. Earneftnefs can be fully expreffed without them. Shakespear's directions on this head are full of good fenfe; "ufe all gently," fays he, "and in the very torrent and tempeft of "paffion, acquire a temperance that may give it "Imoothness."

power

II.

Means of improving in Eloquence.

I have now treated fully of the different kinds of public speaking, of the compofition, and of the delivery of a difcourfe. Before I finish this fubject, it may be of ufe to fuggeft fome things concerning the propereft means of improvement in the art of public fpeaking, and the molt neceffary tudies for that purpose.

To be an eloquent fpeaker, in the proper fense of the word, is far from being either a common or an eafy attainment. Indeed, to compofe a florid harangue on fome popular topic, and to deliver it fo as to amufe an audience, is a matter not very difficult. But though fome praife be due to this, yet the idea, which I have endeavoured to give of eloquence, is much higher. It is a great exertion of the human powers. It is the art of being perfuafive and commanding; the art, not of pleafing the fancy merely, but of speaking both to the understanding and to the heart of interefting the hearers in fuch a degree, as to feize and carry them along with us; and to leave them with a deep and ftrong impreffion of what they have heard. How many talents, natural and acquired, muft concur for carrying this to perfection! A ftrong, lively, and warm imagination; quick fenfibility of heart, joined with folid judgment, good fenfe, and prefence of mind; all improved by great and long attention to flyle and compofition;

and fupported alfo by the exterior, yet important qualifications, of a graceful manner, a prefence not ungainly, and a full and tuneable voice. How little reafon to wonder, that a perfect and accomplished orator fhould be one of the characters that is most rarely to be found!

Let us not defpair, however. Between mediocrity and perfection there is a very wide interval. There are many interme diate spaces, which may be filled up with honour; and the more rare and difficult that complete perfection is, the greater is the honour of approaching to it, though we do not fully attain it. The number of orators who ftand in the higheft clafs is, perhaps, finaller than the number of poets who are foremoft in poetic fame; but the ftudy of oratory has this advantage above that of poetry, that, in poetry, one must be an eminently good performer, or he is not fupportable;

Mediocribus effe poëtis

Non homines, non Di, non conceffère columne*.

In Eloquence this does not hold. There one may poffefs a moderate station with dignity. Eloquence admits of a great many different forms; plain and fimple, as well as high and pathetic; and a genius. that cannot reach the latter, may fhine with much reputation and usefulness in the former.

Whether nature or art contribute most to

form an orator, is a trifling enquiry. In all attainments whatever, nature must be the prime agent. She muft beflow the original talents. She muft fow the feeds; but culture is requifite for bringing thofe feeds to perfection. Nature must always have done fomewhat; but a great deal will always be left to be done by art. This is certain, that ftudy and difcipline are more neceffaty for the improvement of natural genius in oratory, than they are in poetry. What I mean is, that though poetry be capable of receiving affistance from critical art, yet a poet, without any aid from art, by the force of genius alone, can rife higher than a public fpeaker can do, who has never given attention to the rules of ftyle, compofition, and delivery. Homer formed himself; De mofthenes and Cicero were formed by the help of much labour, and of many affiltances derived from the labour of others.

For God and man, and lettered poft denies,
That poets ever are of middling fize.

FRANCIS.

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