CHAPTER III.

TONE-THE LANGUAGE OF PASSION.

66

THE two rules propounded in the first chapter are a responsible guide to the proper rendering of all unimpassioned literature; that is, in all reading and speaking which simply appeals to the understanding or the reason without enlisting the emotions. But, although there is a wide disparity between the oral rendering of Euclid's Elements or a passage from the logic of John Stuart Mill, and a passage from "Hamlet" or Childe Harold," yet, in both cases, the laws which regulate their proper delivery are fundamentally the same. We have only to superinduce upon the language of the exact sciences what may be called in general terms the language of passion. This latter certainly transcends all arbitrary rules, and must yield in a great measure to individual temperament; but there are certain broad and definable landmarks which may be thus laid down.

TONE.

THE COMMONPLACE TONE OF SIMPLE NARRATIVE.

Once upon a midnight dreary,

While I ponder'd, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping,

Suddenly there came a tapping,—

C

As of some one gently rapping-rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber

door,

Only this, and nothing more."

GRAVE TONE.

She is far from the land where her young
And lovers around her are sighing;
But coldly she turns from their gaze

For her heart in his grave is lying.

hero sleeps,

and weeps,

Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,
When they promise a glorious morrow;

They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west,
From her own loved island of sorrow.

THE SOLEMNLY GRAND.

Winds rose from 'neath his settling feet were driven great drifts of snow;

Like hoary hair from off his head did white clouds stream

ing go.

The gulphy pine-woods far beneath roar'd, surging like a sea; From out their lairs the striding wolves came howling

awfully.

The lofty cedar on the hills, by viewless storms was

swung,

And high the thunder-fires of heaven among its branches hung.

TENDERNESS.

There is a lip which mine hath prest,
And none had ever prest before;
It vow'd to make me sweetly blest,
And mine, mine only press it more.

There is a bosom, all my own,

Hath pillow'd oft this aching head;
A mouth, which smiles on me alone;

An eye, whose tears with mine are shed.

GENTLE COMPLAINT.

Must it be?-then farewell,

Thou whom my woman's heart cherish'd so long; Farewell! and be this song

The last, wherein I say, "I loved thee well."

Many a weary strain

(Never yet heard by thee) hath this poor breath Utter'd of love and death,

And maiden grief, hidden and chid in vain.

Think of me-still so young,

Silent, though fond, who cast my life away,
Daring to disobey

The passionate spirit that around me clung.

Farewell again! and yet

Must it indeed be so-and on this shore
Shall you and I no more

Together see the sun of summer set?

For me my days are gone!

No more shall I, in vintage times prepare
Chaplets to bind my hair

As I was wont-oh, 'twas for you alone!

But on my bier I'll lay

Me down in frozen beauty, pale and wan,
Martyr of love to man,

And, like a broken flower, gently decay.

HEROIC ANIMATION.

Then out spake brave Horatius,
The captain of the gate :
"To every man upon the earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods,
And for the tender mother

Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses

His baby at her breast.”

The various characters and modifications of TONE might be multiplied to an infinitesimal degree, and the same may be said of TIME in its bearings upon orthoepy. But reading or speaking in the logically and grammatically analytical system propounded in the second chapter, will, if scrupulously adhered to, involve, or rather suggest, the appropriate TIME and TONE, if there be a careful and judicious perception of the context and general drift of the speaker or author's subject. There is no other conceivable data from which to propound rules as to elocutionary tone and tense. Like everything else in oratory, they are in no way assimilated with arbitrary rules, but with the legitimate efforts of human thought and the wide grasp of human sympathies-not a tax upon the mnemonic nor imitative faculties, but a culture and exercise of the ethical and aesthetical life of man. Read or speak, understanding rightly and sympathising freely, and tone and tense will take care of themselves. Speak THOUGHTS, not WORDS.

The same remarks apply to the Language of Passion, involving the physiognomical and gesticulatory adjuncts. BE IN EARNEST. One who feels an emotion will express it. However, we think it strictly warrantable to append the following examples, scrupulously based upon nature. The external demonstrations are no bad medium through which to work one's self into the particular emo

tion desiderated, and a description of them must consequently be of service to the student of Elocution.

THE PASSIONS.

1. LOVE.

The voice is low, soft, impressive, and in tone approaching to rapture. The eyes have an expression of languishment, delight, and tenderness. The lips are neither aperient nor pressed together. The head is thrown slightly back, the frame has nothing of stiffness and rigidity. The open right hand is laid upon the heart. There is an air of delicacy and embarrassment.

EXAMPLE:

Where art thou, glorious stranger! thou,
So loved, so lost, where art thou now?
Foe-Gheber-infidel-whate'er

Th' unhallow'd name thou 'rt doom'd to bear,
Still glorious, still to this fond heart
Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art!
Yes-ALLA, dreadful ALLA! yes-
If there be wrong, be crime in this,
Let the black waves that round us roll
Whelm me this instant, e'er my soul,
Forgetting faith, home, father, all,
Before its earthly idol fall,

Nor worship even Thyself above him-
For, oh so wildly do I love him,

Thy Paradise itself were dim,

And joyless, if not shared with him!