RHETORIC-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

LECTURE VI.-ON TONES.

GENTLEMEN,

In my preceding lecture I stated to you, that the two principles of pause and tone are more intimately connected together than any other two of the five which constitute the correct pronunciation of written language, and that they mutually affect each other; nor is there any thing which contributes more to the just and forcible expression of sentiment than the proper observance of them. I then confined my observations to the nature and proper application of the various pauses now in use, whether grammatical or rhetorical. I shall now discuss that branch of the subject which relates to the tones, or to the nature, modulation, and operation of the human voice, in forming, by its inflexions, those many expressions of sentiment and passion which give energy to language and efficacy to thought. By the tones or modulation of the human voice, as well as by looks and gestures, the various sentiments and passions of the human mind are expressed.

Every person has three pitches in his voice; the high, the middle, and the low. The high is that which he uses when under the influence of violent passion, or when calling aloud to some person at a distance; the low is used under great depression of mind, or when he approaches to a whisper; the middle is that which is employed in conversation, and which should genenally be used in reading aloud. The various modifications of which these three pitches are capable, constitute those tones which give such wonderful animation and energy to language.

"In the beginning," says Mr. Sheridan, "barbarous nations have nature only for their guide, in their speech as well as in every thing else. With them, therefore, all changes of the voice, and the different notes and inflexions used in uttering their thoughts, were the result of the acts and emotions of the mind, to each of which Nature herself has assigned its peculiar note. In this state the people all speak the emphatic language; and the variety of sounds, result from the nature of the sentiments they express. In a calm state of mind the notes of the voice, in unison to that state, are little varied, and the words are uttered nearly in a monotone. When the mind is agitated by passion, or under any emotion whatever, the tones expressive of such passion or emotion spontaneously break forth, being unerring signs fixed to such internal feeling by the hand of Nature, common to all men, and universally intelligible in the same manner as the sounds and cries uttered by the several tribes of animals."

The variety of tones in the human voice arises partly from the dimensions of the windpipe, which, like a flute, the longer and narrower it is, the sharper is the tone it gives; but principally from the size of the larinx, or top of the windpipe, or rather from the diameter of the glottis or little hole in the middle of the larinx, through which the air from the lungs passes: the tone of the voice being more or less grave, according to the diameter of the glottis. The influence of sounds, either to raise or allay our passions, is evident from music: and certainly the human voice, which is the origin or archetype of all music, and consequently the harmony of fine discourse, well and gracefully pronounced, is as capaple of moving us, if not in a way so violent and ecstatic, yet not less powerful, or less agreeable to our rational faculties.

It has ever been considered, by the best writers in all languages, as a peculiar beauty in the art of composition, to render the sound expressive of their sentiments, or an echo to the sense.

In the Greek language, amid a number of similar passages, Homer thus describes the dashing of the waves upon the shore:

ὡς ὅτε κῦμα πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης

Αἰγιαλῷ μεγάλῳ βρέμεται, (μαραδεῖ δέ τε πόν].

Il. ii. 209.

And in another place, the breaking of Menelaus's sword upon Paris's helmet is thus forcibly expressed:

ἀμφὶ δ' ἄρ' αυτῷ

Τριχθά τε και τετραχθὰ διατρυφὲν ἔκπεσε χειρος·

Il. iii. 362.

Here the action is not only forcibly described, but the words so selected as to represent in sound the snapping short of the sword.

The dashing of a vessel through the waves is finely exemplified in this line:

Η δ' ἔθεεν κατὰ κῦμα διαπήρσσεσα κέλευθον.

Virgil thus describes the galloping of a horse:

Quadrupedante, putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.

Il. i. 483.

And in our own language, among various other equally expressive Thomson has finely described the force of a river:

passages,

Wide o'er the brim, with many a torrent swell'd,

And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erspread,

At last the rous'd up river pours along:
Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes,
From the rude mountain and the mossy wild,

Tumbling through rocks abrupt and sounding far;
Then 'er the sanded valley floating spreads,
Calm, sluggish, silent; till again constrained
Between two meeting hills, it bursts away,
Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream;

There gathering triple force, rapid and deep,

It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through.

Winter, L. 94.

As persons are differently affected when they speak, so they natusally alter the tone of their voice, though they do not attend to it. It rises, sinks, and has various inflections given to it, according to the present state and disposition of the mind. When the mind is calm and sedate, the voice is moderate and even; when the former is dejected with sorrow, the latter is languid; and when that is inflamed by passion, this is extended and elevated. It is the reader or speaker's business, therefore, to follow nature, and to endeavour that the tone of his voice appear natural and unaffected. And for this end he must take care to suit it to the nature of the subject, but still always to be grave and decent: neither too low nor too loud; all the music and harmony of speech lying in the proper temperament of the voice between these

extremes.

If that elegantly descriptive poem, Alexander's Feast, by Mr. Dryden, be read or recited in a lifeless, monotonous manner, it will be as uninteresting as a description in a common advertisement; but if with appropriate spirit, expression, and variation of tone, it becomes irresistibly pleasing.

Correct pronunciation, exact emphasis, and the expressive charms of graceful action would all fail to please, whether on the stage or elsewhere, without proper vocal modulation or tone. We are indeed susceptible of strong and lively impressions from silent action; but if the most animated action were accompanied either with a monotonous or a discordant voice, it could not be endured.

The following passage in the Grecian Daughter is said to be one of the many which have so often excited the admiration of thousands, at the wonderful power of Mrs. Siddons to exalt the force and meaning of what she utters, by the tones of her voice.

To the usurper of her father's throne, who had thought to induce her to prevail on her husband to withdraw from the expected assault, by threatening both her father and herself, as hostages in his power, she answers,

VOL. III.

Think'st thou then

So meanly of my Phocion? Dost thou deem him
Poorly wound up to a mere fit of valour,

To melt away in a weak woman's tear?

Oh! thou dost little know him; knowst but little
Of his exalted soul !

Now, these words might be pronounced, even without a fault, and we would hear them without emotion. But when uttered by Mrs. Siddons, they strike through the ear to the heart, kindling a portion of that spirit which prompted her to repel such a threat, with a mixture of calm contempt and glowing exultation: and when she said "Oh! thou dost little know him," it was astonishing to perceive how her expression

"Gave weight to words, and energy to thought."

Every person should regulate his tones by the natural key of his own voice. A voice is said to be clear when the organs of speech are suited to give every single letter, and all the combinations of them in syllables and words their proper and distinct sound: yet an obscure and confused voice is not always occasioned by a deficiency in the organs of speech, but frequently is the effect of custom and a bad habit. Some persons, either from want of due care in their education at first, or from inadvertency and negligence afterwards, run into a very irregular and confused manner of expressing their words, so as to render what they say often unintelligible. But all faults of this kind which proceed from habit, are to be overcome by attention, diligence, perseverance, and correct instruction.

Polite conversation seems to be the best groundwork of the tones of delivery; and if the house in which the speaker appears be not too large, a great many of them may always be introduced.

In studying cadences the capital rule seems to be, to imitate those varieties which occur in conversation where men are in earnest, and express themselves as prompted by the natural feelings of their minds. If we obtain not these colloquial cadences, we cannot reach much eminence, and our only resource will be to adopt some monotonous manner, as inoffensive as possible.

Tones, generally speaking, may be divided into two kinds: natural and artificial. The natural are such as belong to the passions of man in his animal state, which are implanted in his frame by the hand of Nature; and which spontaneously break forth whenever he is under the influence of any of those passions. These form a universal language, equally used by all the different nations of the world, and equally understood and felt by all. Thus the tones expressive of love, lamentation, mirth, joy, hatred, anger, pity, &c. are the same in all countries, and excite emotions in us analogous to those passions, when accompanying words which we do not understand. The artificial tones are those which are settled, as it were, by common consent, to mark the different operations, exertions, and emotions of the intellect and fancy, in producing their ideas;

and these, in a great measure, differ in different countries, as the languages do. The former of these, it is evident, neither require study nor pains, when we are ourselves under the influence of any of those passions; as they are necessarily produced by them: but in attempting to produce them, either in delivering the impassioned speeches of writers, or in assuming them in our own discourses, we shall be deficient in expression, if we do not feel, at the time, the passions we would express. We may, indeed, mimic the tones of those passions; but the affectation will be evident; the eye will immediately detect the fallacy; and consequently the hearts of the hearers will remain untouched. "If you wish me to weep," said a judicious ancient writer upon this subject, “you must first weep yourself :" and this maxim will always hold good with respect to the other passions.

But it may be asked, how can I possibly feel the passions of anger, love, hope, joy, grief, &c. without having a real object in which I am interested to excite it? can I, in a circle of known friends, feel or express, by tones, countenance, and gesture, the frenzy of anger, the disgust of hatred, the malignity of revenge, or the tremulous agitation of fear, in any dialogue with, or address to them? I answer, yes. For such, and so versatile is the human imagination, and so necessary is its operation, in giving energy to sentiment, that various and contrary characters can be assumed, and their natural emotions as fully expressed, as though we were actually in their supposed circumstances. And though this talent is not possessed by every individual, and indeed may be said rarely to exist, from the very few real orators which are to be found in any profession, yet we know that it is practicable, that where the talent is not bestowed in an eminent degree by nature, much may be effected by exertion and perseverance; and that, without the actual assumption of character, there can be no true eloquence. With respect, therefore, to the artificial tones, it will require great pains and much observation to become master of them.

When we consider that all these tones are to be accompanied by suitable looks and gestures (which I shall treat of in subsequent lectures) not only adapted, in the justest proportion to give due force to the sentiment, but regulated also in such a way as to appear graceful, we need not wonder that this species of oratory is so little known among us, because the principles of the art have been so little known and studied. And, indeed, the extreme difficulty of arriving at perfection in it, cannot be more clearly evinced than by the very few instances which appear at the bar, in the pulpit, or even on the stage, where oratory is the chief object and business of the profession. This deficiency chiefly arises from devoting the whole time and attention of our youth to the cultivation of written language, leaving the character