PART IV
Compare the atmosphere of the first four and a half stanzas of this Part with the first four of Part III, and also with the remainder of Part IV. What is the difference in Pitch, Force, and Time? (Introduction, pp. 22, 26, and 13.)
* * * * *
HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD
From "The Princess"
Home they brought her warrior dead: She nor swoon'd, nor utter'd cry: All her maidens, watching, said, "She must weep or she will die."
Then they praised him, soft and low, Call'd him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee-- Like summer tempest came her tears-- "Sweet my child, I live for thee."
--_Alfred Tennyson_
See Introduction, p. 6.
* * * * *
THE SKY
From "Modern Painters"
1. It is a strange thing how little in general people know about the sky. It is the part of creation in which nature has done more for the sake of pleasing man, more for the sole and evident purpose of talking to him and teaching him, than in any other of her works, and it is just the part in which we least attend to her.
2. There are not many of her other works in which some more material or essential purpose than the mere pleasing of man is not answered by every part of their organization; but every essential purpose of the sky might, so far as we know, be answered, if once in three days, or thereabouts, a great ugly black rain-cloud were brought up over the blue, and everything well watered, and so all left blue again till next time, with perhaps a film of morning and evening mist for dew.
3. And instead of this, there is not a moment of any day of our lives, when nature is not producing scene after scene, picture after picture, glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and constant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite certain it is all done for us, and intended for our perpetual pleasure. And every man, wherever placed, however far from other sources of interest or of beauty, has this doing for him constantly.
4. The noblest scenes of the earth can be seen and known but by few; it is not intended that man should live always in the midst of them, he injures them by his presence, he ceases to feel them if he be always with them; but the sky is for all; bright as it is, it is not "too bright, nor good, for human nature's daily food"; it is fitted in all its functions for the perpetual comfort and exalting of the heart, for the soothing it and purifying it from its dross and dust. Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never the same for two moments together; almost human in its passions, almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost divine in its infinity, its appeal to what is immortal in us, is as distinct, as its ministry of chastisement or of blessing to what is mortal, is essential.
5. And yet we never attend to it, we never make it a subject of thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations; we look upon all by which it speaks to us more clearly than to brutes, upon all which bears witness to the intention of the Supreme, that we are to receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew which we share with the weed and the worm, only as a succession of meaningless and monotonous accidents too common and too vain to be worthy of a moment of watchfulness, or a glance of admiration. If in our moments of utter idleness and insipidity, we turn to the sky as a last resource, which of its phenomena do we speak of?
6. One says it has been wet, and another it has been windy, and another it has been warm. Who, among the whole chattering crowd, can tell me of the forms and the precipices of the chain of tall white mountains that girded the horizon at noon yesterday? Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came out of the south, and smote upon their summits until they melted and mouldered away in a dust of blue rain? Who saw the dance of the dead clouds when the sunlight left them last night, and the west wind blew them before it like withered leaves?
7. All has passed, unregretted as unseen; or if the apathy be ever shaken off, even for an instant, it is only by what is gross, or what is extraordinary; and yet it is not in the broad and fierce manifestations of the elemental energies, not in the clash of the hail, nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the highest characters of the sublime are developed. God is not in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the still, small voice.
8. They are but the blunt and the low faculties of our nature, which can only be addressed through lamp-black and lightning. It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive majesty, the deep, and the calm, and the perpetual,--that which must be sought ere it is seen, and loved ere it is understood,--things which the angels work out for us daily, and yet vary eternally, which are never wanting, and never repeated, which are to be found always yet each found but once; it is through these that the lesson of devotion is chiefly taught, and the blessing of beauty given.
--_John Ruskin_
(_By arrangement with George Allen, Publisher_)
SPIRITUAL, PRECIPICES, SUMMITS, UNOBTRUSIVE. (Appendix A, 8.)
Par. 1. With what is LEAST ATTEND contrasted?
Par. 2. Why is SKY an emphatic word? Give examples of momentary completeness. (Introduction, p. 16.)
Par. 3. What Inflection is placed on PERFECT BEAUTY?
Par. 4. Point out the contrasts in the first sentence. What word is contrasted with DISTINCT?
Par. 5. With what is ONLY AS A SUCCESSION, ETC., connected in sense? How does the voice make the connection? (Introduction, p. 33.)
Par. 7. UNREGRETTED, UNSEEN. Note the transferred emphasis. (Introduction, p. 32.)
Par. 7. AND YET IT IS NOT ... NOR IN THE FIRE. Account for the Inflection. (Introduction, p. 17.)
* * * * *
THE RETURN OF THE SWALLOWS
"Out in the meadows the young grass springs, Shivering with sap," said the larks, "and we Shoot into air with our strong young wings, Spirally up over level and lea; Come, O Swallows, and fly with us Now that horizons are luminous! Evening and morning the world of light, Spreading and kindling, is infinite!"
Far away, by the sea in the south, The hills of olive and slopes of fern Whiten and glow in the sun's long drouth, Under the heavens that beam and burn; And all the swallows were gather'd there Flitting about in the fragrant air, And heard no sound from the larks, but flew Flashing under the blinding blue.
Out of the depths of their soft rich throats Languidly fluted the thrushes, and said: "Musical thought in the mild air floats, Spring is coming and winter is dead! Come, O Swallows, and stir the air, For the buds are all bursting unaware, And the drooping eaves and the elm-trees long To hear the sound of your low sweet song."
Over the roofs of the white Algiers, Flashingly shadowing the bright bazaar, Flitted the swallows, and not one hears The call of the thrushes from far, from far; Sigh'd the thrushes; then, all at once, Broke out singing the old sweet tones, Singing the bridal of sap and shoot, The tree's slow life between root and fruit.
But just when the dingles of April flowers Shine with the earliest daffodils, When, before sunrise, the cold clear hours Gleam with a promise that noon fulfils,-- Deep in the leafage the cuckoo cried, Perch'd on a spray by a rivulet-side, "Swallows, O Swallows, come back again To swoop and herald the April rain."
And something awoke in the slumbering heart Of the alien birds in their African air, And they paused, and alighted, and twitter'd apart, And met in the broad white dreamy square; And the sad slave-woman, who lifted up From the fountain her broad-lipp'd earthen cup, Said to herself, with a weary sigh, "To-morrow the swallows will northward fly!"
--_Edmund William Gosse_
How does the vocal expression of the descriptive parts of the poem differ from that of the call of the birds? Account for the difference. (Introduction, p. 22.)
Point out the contrasts of thought and feeling in the third and fourth stanzas respectively. Show a corresponding contrast in vocal expression.
What line expresses the central idea of the fifth stanza? How is this shown? (Introduction, p. 33.)
Account for the Pitch and the Force used in the slave-woman's speech.
Supply a background of thought for the last four lines. How does this affect the Time? (Introduction, p. 14.)
* * * * *
BARBARA FRIETCHIE
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep, 5 Apple-and peach-tree fruited deep,--
Fair as a garden of the Lord To the eye of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee march'd over the mountain-wall,-- 10
Over the mountains winding down, Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun 15 Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; 20
In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouched hat left and right 25 He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
"Halt!"--the dust-brown ranks stood fast. "Fire!"--out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. 30
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will.
"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 35 But spare your country's flag!" she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word: 40
"Who touches a hair of yon gray head, Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.
All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet:
All day long that free flag tossed 45 Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well;
And, through the hill-gaps, sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. 50
Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.
Honour to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.
Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, 55 Flag of Freedom and Union wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town! 60
--_John Greenleaf Whittier_
PREPARATORY.--Divide the poem into sections, giving each a descriptive title. (Introduction, p. 10.)
Describe the scene portrayed in the first fifteen lines, supplementing your description by a black-board diagram.
ll. 1-2. What is the Inflection? Why?
l. 3. Note the Grouping and Pause.
l. 3. STAND; l. 7, LORD; l. 8, HORDE. What is the Inflection? Why?
l. 15. (Introduction, p. 9.)
l. 20. What are the emphatic words? Are both words of a contrast necessarily emphatic?
ll. 17-22. Note the change in nervous tension. What effect has this on the key of the voice? (Introduction, p. 25.)
ll. 25-26. How do these lines illustrate the truth that the Visualization of a scene is a necessary forerunner of correct vocal expression?
ll. 27-28. HALT! FIRE! What change in vocal expression accompanies the transition to abrupt command?
l. 31. With what do you connect FROM THE BROKEN STAFF? How? (Introduction, p. 16.)
ll. 31-36. What part should Imitation play here? (Introduction, pp. 5 and 6.)
ll. 37-38. (Introduction, p. 14.)
l. 39. Note Grouping and Pause.
ll. 41-42. (Introduction, p. 5.)
l. 43. With what do you connect THROUGH FREDERICK STREET? How? Where do you pause in this line?
l. 51. (Introduction, p. 9.)
* * * * *
BLESS THE LORD, O MY SOUL
Psalm ciii
Bless the Lord, O my soul: And all that is within me, bless his holy name Bless the Lord, O my soul, And forget not all his benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; Who healeth all thy diseases; Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; Who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies: Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; So that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
The Lord executeth righteousness And judgment for all that are oppressed. He made known his ways unto Moses, His acts unto the children of Israel. The Lord is merciful and gracious, Slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy. He will not always chide: Neither will he keep his anger for ever. He hath not dealt with us after our sins; Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.
For as the heaven is high above the earth, So great is his mercy toward them that fear him. As far as the east is from the west, So far hath he removed our transgressions from us Like as a father pitieth his children, So the Lord pitieth them that fear him. For he knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust.
As for man, his days are as grass: As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; And the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, And his righteousness unto children's children; To such as keep his covenant, And to those that remember his commandments to do them.
The Lord hath prepared his throne in the heavens; And his kingdom ruleth over all. Bless the Lord, ye his angels, That excel in strength, That do his commandments, Hearkening unto the voice of his word. Bless ye the Lord, all ye his hosts; Ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure. Bless the Lord, all his works, In all places of his dominion: Bless the Lord, O my soul.
--_As arranged by Richard G. Moulton_
PREPARATORY.--What attitude of mind does the language of this Psalm indicate? What Stress of voice is its natural expression? (Introduction, p. 29.)
Articulation. (Appendix A, 3.)
* * * * *
THE ETERNAL GOODNESS
I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise, Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies.
And if my heart and flesh are weak 5 To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed He will not break, But strengthen and sustain.
No offering of my own I have, Nor works my faith to prove; 10 I can but give the gifts He gave, And plead His love for love.
And so beside the Silent Sea I wait the muffled oar; No harm from Him can come to me 15 On ocean or on shore.
I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care. 20
--_John Greenleaf Whittier_
PREPARATORY.--What attitude of mind is suggested by this poem?
How does it differ from that suggested by the preceding selection? What is the difference in vocal expression?
Account for the Inflection placed on the negative statements in this poem. (Introduction, pp. 17 and 18.)
* * * * *
THE KING OF GLORY
Psalm xxiv
(Anthems for the Inauguration of Jerusalem)
_I.--At the Foot of the Hill_
FIRST CHOIR
The earth is the LORD'S, and the fulness thereof; The world, and they that dwell therein. For He hath founded it upon the seas, And established it upon the floods. Who shall ascend into the hill of the LORD? And who shall stand in His holy place?
SECOND CHOIR
He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; Who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, And hath not sworn deceitfully. He shall receive a blessing from the LORD, And righteousness from the God of his salvation. This is the generation of them that seek after Him, That seek Thy face, O God of Jacob.
_II.--Before the Gates_
FIRST CHOIR
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; And be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors: And the King of Glory shall come in.
SECOND CHOIR
Who is the King of Glory?
FIRST CHOIR
The LORD strong and mighty, The LORD mighty in battle.
FIRST CHOIR
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; Yea, lift them up, ye everlasting doors: And the King of Glory shall come in.
SECOND CHOIR
Who is this King of Glory?
FIRST CHOIR
The LORD of Hosts, He is the King of Glory.
--_As arranged by Richard G. Moulton_
* * * * *
THE FOUR-HORSE RACE
From "Black Rock"
1. The great event of the day, however, was to be the four-horse race, for which three teams were entered--one from the mines driven by Nixon, Craig's friend, a citizens' team, and Sandy's. The race was really between the miners' team and that from the woods, for the citizens' team, though made up of speedy horses, had not been driven much together, and knew neither their driver nor each other. In the miners' team were four bays, very powerful, a trifle heavy perhaps, but well matched, perfectly trained, and perfectly handled by their driver. Sandy had his long rangy roans, and for leaders, a pair of half-broken pinto bronchos. The pintos, caught the summer before upon the Alberta prairies, were fleet as deer, but wicked and uncertain. They were Baptiste's special care and pride. If they would only run straight, there was little doubt that they would carry the roans and themselves to glory; but one could not tell the moment they might bolt or kick things to pieces.
2. Being the only non-partisan in the crowd, I was asked to referee. The race was about half a mile and return, the first and last quarters being upon the ice. The course, after leaving the ice, led up from the river by a long, easy slope to the level above; and at the further end, curved somewhat sharply around the Old Fort. The only condition attaching to the race was, that the teams should start from the scratch, make the turn of the Fort, and finish at the scratch. There were no vexing regulations as to fouls. The man making the foul would find it necessary to reckon with the crowd, which was considered sufficient guarantee for a fair and square race. Owing to the hazards of the course, the result would depend upon the skill of the drivers quite as much as the speed of the teams. The points of hazard were at the turn round the Old Fort, and at a little ravine which led down to the river, over which the road passed by means of a long, log bridge or causeway.
3. From a point upon the high bank of the river, the whole course lay in open view. It was a scene full of life and vividly picturesque. There were miners in dark clothes and peak caps; citizens in ordinary garb; ranch-men in wide cowboy hats and buckskin shirts and leggings, some with cartridge-belts and pistols; a few half-breeds and Indians in half-native, half-civilized dress; and scattering through the crowd, the lumbermen with gay scarlet and blue blanket coats, and some with knitted tuques of the same colour. A very good-natured but extremely uncertain crowd it was. At the head of each horse stood a man, but at the pintos' heads Baptiste stood alone, trying to hold down the off-leader, thrown into a frenzy of fear by the yelling of the crowd.
4. Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of absolute stillness, came the words: "Are you ready?" then the pistol-shot, and the great race had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came the shrill cry of Baptiste, as he struck his broncho with the palm of his hand, and swung himself into the sleigh beside Sandy, as it shot past.
5. Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front, two lengths before the other teams; but, terrified by the yelling of the crowd, instead of bending to the left bank up which the road wound, they wheeled to the right and were almost across the river before Sandy could swing them back into the course.
6. Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French and English, continued to strike through all other sounds, till they gained the top of the slope to find the others almost a hundred yards in front, the citizens' team leading, with the miners' following close. The moment the pintos caught sight of the teams before them, they set off at a terrific pace and steadily devoured the intervening space. Nearer and nearer the turn came, the eight horses in front, running straight and well within their speed. After them flew the pintos, running savagely with ears set back, leading well the big roans, thundering along and gaining at every bound. And now the citizens' team had almost reached the Fort, running hard and drawing away from the bays. But Nixon knew what he was about, and was simply steadying his team for the turn. The event proved his wisdom, for in the turn the leading team left the track, lost a moment or two in the deep snow, and before they could regain the road, the bays had swept superbly past, leaving their rivals to follow in the rear. On came the pintos, swiftly nearing the Fort. Surely at that pace they cannot make the turn. But Sandy knows his leaders. They have their eyes upon the teams in front, and need no touch of rein. Without the slightest change in speed the nimble-footed bronchos round the turn, hauling the big roans after them, and fall in behind the citizens' team, which is regaining steadily the ground lost in the turn.
7. And now the struggle is for the bridge over the ravine. The bays in front, running with mouths wide open, are evidently doing their best; behind them, and every moment nearing them, but at the limit of their speed too, come the lighter and fleeter citizens' team; while opposite their driver are the pintos, pulling hard, eager and fresh. Their temper is too uncertain to send them to the front; they run well following, but when leading cannot be trusted, and besides, a broncho hates a bridge; so Sandy holds them where they are, waiting and hoping for his chance after the bridge is crossed. Foot by foot the citizens' team creep up upon the flank of the bays, with the pintos in turn hugging them closely, till it seems as if the three, if none slackens, must strike the bridge together; and this will mean destruction to one at least. This danger Sandy perceives, but he dare not check his leaders. Suddenly, within a few yards of the bridge, Baptiste throws himself upon the lines, wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and, with a quick swing, forces the pintos down the steep side of the ravine, which is almost sheer ice with a thin coat of snow. It is a daring course to take, for the ravine, though not deep, is full of undergrowth, and is partially closed up by a brush heap at the further end. But with a yell, Baptiste hurls his four horses down the slope, and into the undergrowth. "Allons, mes enfants! Courage! vite, vite!" cries their driver, and nobly do the pintos respond. Regardless of bushes and brush heaps, they tear their way through; but as they emerge, the hind bob-sleigh catches a root, and, with a crash, the sleigh is hurled high into the air. Baptiste's cries ring out high and shrill as ever, encouraging his team, and never cease till, with a plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush heap lying at the mouth of the ravine, and are out on the ice on the river, with Baptiste standing on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and Sandy nowhere to be seen.
8. Three hundred yards of the course remain. The bays, perfectly handled, have gained at the bridge, and in the descent to the ice, and are leading the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh lengths. Behind both comes Baptiste. It is now or never for the pintos. The rattle of the trailing box, together with the wild yelling of the crowd rushing down the bank, excites the bronchos to madness, and, taking the bits in their teeth, they do their first free running that day. Past the citizens' team like a whirlwind they dash, clear the intervening space, and gain the flanks of the bays. Can the bays hold them? Over them leans their driver, plying for the first time the hissing lash. Only fifty yards more. The miners begin to yell. But Baptiste, waving his lines high in one hand, seizes his tuque with the other, whirls it above his head and flings it with a fiercer yell than ever at the bronchos. Like the bursting of a hurricane the pintos leap forward, and with a splendid rush cross the scratch, winners by their own length.
--_By arrangement with the Westminster Co., Limited, and Rev. C. W. Gordon (Ralph Connor)_
PREPARATORY.--Make a black-board sketch of the race-course, fixing the position of "the scratch," "the Old Fort," "the high bank with the spectators," "the bridge," etc.
In what passages does the excitement reach its greatest height? How are the Pitch and Time affected? (Introduction, pp. 13 and 22.)
What is the Stress employed throughout? Where is the Stress most marked? Give reasons. (Introduction, pp. 27 and 28.)
* * * * *
MRS. MALAPROP'S VIEWS
From "The Rivals"
The scene is Mrs. Malaprop's lodgings at Bath. Present, Lydia Languish. Enter Mrs. Malaprop and Sir Anthony Absolute.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--There, Sir Anthony, there sits the deliberate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling.
_Lydia._--Madam, I thought you once--
_Mrs. Malaprop._--You thought, miss! I don't know any business you have to think at all: thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow; to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory.
_Lydia._--Ah, madam! our memories are independent of our wills. It is not so easy to forget.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--But I say it is, miss! there is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor dear uncle as if he had never existed--and I thought it my duty so to do; and let me tell you, Lydia, these violent memories don't become a young woman.
_Sir Anthony._--Why, sure she won't pretend to remember what she's ordered not! Ay, this comes of her reading!
_Lydia._--What crime, madam, have I committed to be treated thus?
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Now don't attempt to extirpate yourself from the matter; you know I have proof controvertible of it. But tell me, will you promise to do as you're bid? Will you take a husband of your friends' choosing?
_Lydia._--Madam, I must tell you plainly that had I no preference for any one else, the choice you have made would be my aversion.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion. They don't become a young woman; and you ought to know that as both always wear off, 'tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he'd been a blackamoor; and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made? and when it pleased Heaven to release me from him, 'tis unknown what tears I shed! But suppose we were going to give you another choice, will you promise us to give up this Beverley?
_Lydia._--Could I belie my thoughts so far as to give that promise, my actions would certainly as far belie my words.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Take yourself to your room. You are fit company for nothing but your own ill-humours.
_Lydia._--Willingly, ma'am--I cannot change for the worse. (_Exit_)
_Mrs. Malaprop._--There's a little intricate hussy for you!
_Sir Anthony._--It is not to be wondered at, ma'am: all this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by heaven I'd as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet!
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Nay, nay, Sir Anthony: you are an absolute misanthropy.
_Sir Anthony._--In my way hither, Mrs. Malaprop, I observed your niece's maid coming forth from a circulating library! She had a book in each hand; they were half-bound volumes with marble covers! From that moment I guessed how full of duty I should see her mistress!
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Those are vile places indeed!
_Sir Anthony._--Madam, a circulating library in a town is an evergreen tree of diabolical knowledge,--it blossoms through the year! And depend on it, Mrs. Malaprop, that they who are so fond of handling the leaves will long for the fruit at last.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Fy, fy, Sir Anthony! you surely speak laconically.
_Sir Anthony._--Why, Mrs. Malaprop, in moderation now, what would you have a woman know?
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning; I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman: for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning; neither would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments. But, Sir Anthony, I would send her at nine years old to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts; and as she grew up I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries: but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be mistress of orthodoxy, that she might not misspell and mispronounce words so shamefully as girls usually do; and likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is saying. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know; and I don't think there is a superstitious article in it.
_Sir Anthony._--Well, well, Mrs. Malaprop, I will dispute the point no further with you; though I must confess that you are a truly moderate and polite arguer, for almost every third word you say is on my side of the question. But, Mrs. Malaprop, to the more important point in debate: you say you have no objection to my proposal?
_Mrs. Malaprop._--None, I assure you. I am under no positive engagement with Mr. Acres; and as Lydia is so obstinate against him, perhaps your son may have better success.
_Sir Anthony._--Well, madam, I will write for the boy directly. He knows not a syllable of this yet, though I have for some time had the proposal in my head. He is at present with his regiment.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--We have never seen your son, Sir Anthony; but I hope no objection on his side.
_Sir Anthony._--Objection! let him object if he dare! No, no, Mrs. Malaprop, Jack knows that the least demur puts me in a frenzy directly. My process was always very simple: in their younger days, 'twas "Jack, do this"; if he demurred I knocked him down, and if he grumbled at that I always sent him out of the room.
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Ay, and the properest way, o'my conscience! Nothing is so conciliating to young people as severity. Well, Sir Anthony, I shall give Mr. Acres his discharge, and prepare Lydia to receive your son's invocations; and I hope you will represent her to the captain as an object not altogether illegible.
_Sir Anthony._--Madam, I will handle the subject prudently. Well I must leave you; and let me beg you, Mrs. Malaprop, to enforce this matter roundly to the girl. Take my advice--keep a tight hand: if she rejects this proposal, clap her under lock and key; and if you were just to let the servants forget to bring her dinner for three or four days, you can't conceive how she'd come about. (Exit)
_Mrs. Malaprop._--Well, at any rate I shall be glad to get her from under my intuition. She has somehow discovered my partiality for Sir Lucius O'Trigger: sure Lucy can't have betrayed me! No, the girl is such a simpleton, I should have made her confess it. (Calls) Lucy! Lucy!--Had she been one of your artificial ones, I should never have trusted her.
--_Richard Brinsley Sheridan_
What is the difference between Mrs. Malaprop's mental attitude toward Lydia and toward Sir Anthony? How is this difference indicated in the Stress of voice? (Introduction, pp. 27 and 28.)
* * * * *
THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS
King Francis was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport, And one day, as his lions strove, sat looking on the court; The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side, And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make his bride; And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, 5 Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar, they roll'd one on another, Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thund'rous smother; 10 The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air; Said Francis then, "Good gentlemen, we're better here than there!"
De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous, lively dame, With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd the same: She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as brave as brave can be; 15 He surely would do desperate things to show his love of me! King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the chance is wond'rous fine; I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine!"
She dropp'd her glove to prove his love: then looked on him and smiled; He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild: 20 The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon regain'd his place; Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face! "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat: "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that!"
--_Leigh Hunt_
PREPARATORY.--Divide the poem into four scenes, and describe each scene.
What are the difficulties of Articulation in ll. 2, 9, 10, and 14.
What attitude of mind is indicated by the King's first speech? By his second speech? What difference in Stress? (Introduction, pp. 27-29.) What is the Force in each case? (Introduction, p. 25.)
15, 16, and 17. Use these lines as an illustration to show that Visualization is necessary in order to secure good vocal expression.
In what Time do you read the lady's thoughts! (Introduction, p. 13.)
Give examples from stanzas ii, and iv, where the sympathy with the picture may be sufficiently strong to lead to imitation of movements or sounds. (Introduction, pp. 5 and 6.)
* * * * *
THE FICKLENESS OF A ROMAN MOB
From "Julius Cæsar" Act I. Scene i.
_Enter_ FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, _and certain Commoners over the Stage._
_Flav._ Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home. Is this a holiday? What! know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk Upon a labouring day without the sign Of your profession?--Speak, what trade art thou? 5
_1 Cit._ Why, sir, a carpenter.
_Mar._ Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule? What dost thou with thy best apparel on?-- You, sir, what trade are you?
_2 Cit._ Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am 10 but, as you would say, a cobbler.
_Mar._ But what trade are thou? Answer me directly.
_2 Cit._ A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.
_Mar._ What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, 15 what trade?
_2 Cit._ Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.
_Mar._ What mean'st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow?
_2 Cit._ Why, sir, cobble you. 20
_Flav._ Thou art a cobbler, art thou?
_2 Cit._ Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl. I meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's matters, but with all. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I re-cover 25 them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork.
_Flav._ But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?
_2 Cit._ Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get 30 myself into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Cæsar, and to rejoice in his triumph.
_Mar._ Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? What tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in captive bonds his chariot wheels? 35 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, 40 Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome; And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, 45 That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? 50 And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 55 That needs must light on this ingratitude.
_Flav._ Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault Assemble all the poor men of your sort; Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears Into the channel, till the lowest stream 60 Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
[_Exeunt all the Commoners_]
See, whe'r their basest metal be not moved! They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. Go you down that way towards the Capitol; This way will I. Disrobe the images, 65 If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies.
_Mar._ May we do so? You know it is the feast of Lupercal.
_Flav._ It is no matter; let no images Be hung with Cæsar's trophies. I'll about, 70 And drive away the vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceive them thick. These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, Who else would soar above the view of men, 75 And keep us all in servile fearfulness.
[_Exeunt]_
--_Shakespeare_
In what Stress do Flavius and Marullus speak when questioning the citizens? Why?
What Stress does the first citizen use?
How does the mental attitude of the second citizen influence his Stress and Inflection? (Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.) Where does he change his Stress? For what reason?
WHEREFORE REJOICE? Point out the various examples of Climax in this speech, and show how the voice indicates them. (Introduction, p. 31.)
Account for the Inflection on the various questions. (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)
SEE WHE'R THEIR BASEST METAL, ETC. Note the change in tension and energy. What change in Pitch and Force is the natural result? (Introduction, pp. 25 and 26.)
* * * * *
SIR PETER AND LADY TEAZLE
From "The School for Scandal"
_Sir Peter._--Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!
_Lady Teazle._--Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and, what's more, I will, too. What though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.
_Sir Peter._--Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?
_Lady Teazle._--Authority! No, to be sure: if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.
_Sir Peter._--Old enough!--ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance!
_Lady Teazle._--My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.
_Sir Peter._--No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. To spend as much to furnish your dressing room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a fête champêtre at Christmas!
_Lady Teazle._--And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet!
_Sir Peter._--Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you.
_Lady Teazle._--No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you.
_Sir Peter._--Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working.
_Lady Teazle._--Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led. My daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog.
_Sir Peter._--Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.
_Lady Teazle._--And then, you know, my evening amusements! To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play Pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox chase.
_Sir Peter._--I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your coach--_vis-à-vis_--and three powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach horse.
_Lady Teazle._--No--I swear I never did that: I deny the butler and the coach horse.
_Sir Peter._--This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank,--in short, I have made you my wife.
_Lady Teazle._--Well, then, and there is but one thing more you can make me to add to the obligation, that is--
_Sir Peter._--My widow, I suppose?
_Lady Teazle._--Hem! hem!
_Sir Peter._--I thank you, madam--but don't flatter yourself, for, though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.
_Lady Teazle._--Then why will you endeavour to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense.
_Sir Peter._--Oons! madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?
_Lady Teazle._--Lud, Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?
_Sir Peter._--The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion before you married me?
_Lady Teazle._--For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste.
_Sir Peter._--Ay--there again--taste! Zounds! madam, you had no taste when you married me!
_Lady Teazle._--That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and, after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.
_Sir Peter._--Ay, there's another precious circumstance--a charming set of acquaintance you have made there.
_Lady Teazle._--Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.
_Sir Peter._--Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves! Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.
_Lady Teazle._--What! would you restrain the freedom of speech?
_Sir Peter._--Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society.
_Lady Teazle._--Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tolerable grace.
_Sir Peter._--Grace indeed!
_Lady Teazle._--But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse: when I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good humour: and I take it for granted they deal exactly the same with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too.
_Sir Peter._--Well, well, I'll call in, just to look after my own character.
_Lady Teazle._--Then, indeed, you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So good-bye to ye. (_Exit_)
_Sir Peter._--So--I have gained much by my intended expostulation! Yet with what a charming air she contradicts everything I say, and how pleasantly she shows her contempt for my authority! Well, though I can't make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her; and I think she never appears to such advantage as when she is doing everything in her power to plague me. _(Exit_)
--_Richard Brinsley Sheridan_
Select the passages where Lady Teazle tries to enforce her opinion by (a) strong assertion, (b) peevishness and whining.
In what passages does her desire to taunt and ridicule Sir Peter predominate?
In what passages does she address Sir Peter in the tone of ordinary conversation?
What Stress is used in each case? (Introduction, pp. 28-30.)
HAD YOU ANY OF THESE LITTLE ELEGANT EXPENSES? What Stress is placed on the last four words?
* * * * *
THE PARTING OF MARMION AND DOUGLAS
From "Marmion"
Not far advanced was morning day, When Marmion did his troop array To Surrey's camp to ride; He had safe-conduct for his band, Beneath the royal seal and hand, 5 And Douglas gave a guide.
The ancient Earl, with stately grace, Would Clara on her palfrey place, And whispered in an undertone, "Let the hawk stoop, his prey is flown." 10 The train from out the castle drew, But Marmion stopped to bid adieu: "Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest, Sent hither by your King's behest, 15 While in Tantallon's towers I stayed; Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive my hand."
But Douglas round him drew his cloak, Folded his arms, and thus he spoke: 20 "My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open, at my Sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my King's alone, 25 From turret to foundation-stone: The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall, in friendly grasp, The hand of such as Marmion clasp."
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, 30 And shook his very frame for ire; And--"This to me," he said, "An't were not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head! 35 And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: And, Douglas, more I tell thee here, 40 Even in thy pitch of pride Here in thy hold, thy vassals near (Nay, never look upon your lord, And lay your hands upon your sword,) I tell thee, thou'rt defied! 45 And if thou saidst, I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"
On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage 50 O'ercame the ashen hue of age: Fierce he broke forth: "And darest thou, then, To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall? And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?-- 55 No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!-- Up drawbridge, grooms!--what, Warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall."
Lord Marmion turned,--well was his need,-- And dashed the rowels in his steed, 60 Like arrow through the archway sprung, The ponderous grate behind him rung: To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, grazed his plume.
The steed along the drawbridge flies, 65 Just as it trembles on the rise; Nor lighter does the swallow skim Along the smooth lake's level brim: And when Lord Marmion reached his band, He halts, and turns with clenched hand, 70 And shout of loud defiance pours, And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
"Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!" But soon he reined his fury's pace: "A royal messenger he came, 75 Though most unworthy of the name. A letter forged! Saint Jude to speed! Did ever knight so foul a deed! At first, in heart, it liked me ill, When the King praised his clerkly skill. 80 Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line. Saint Mary mend my fiery mood! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood; I thought to slay him where he stood. 85 'Tis pity of him, too," he cried: "Bold can he speak, and fairly ride: I warrant him a warrior tried."-- With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle halls. 90
--_Sir Walter Scott_
In what Quality of voice should the following passages of this poem be read: (_a_) the descriptive parts; (_b_) l. 10; (_c_) the first speeches of Marmion and Douglas, ll. 14-18, and ll. 21-29; (_d_) the second speeches of Marmion and Douglas, ll. 32-49, and ll. 52-56; (_e_) ll. 57-58, and ll. 75-88?
* * * * *
COLUMBUS
Behind him lay the gray Azores. Behind him the gates of Hercules; Before him not the ghost of shores, Before him only shoreless seas. The good mate said: "Now we must pray, 5 For, lo! the very stars are gone. Brave Adm'r'l, speak; what shall I say?" "Why, say: 'Sail on! sail on! and on!'"
"My men grow mutinous day by day; My men grow ghastly wan and weak." 10 The stout mate thought of home; a spray Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. "What shall I say, brave Adm'r'l, say, If we sight naught but seas at dawn?" "Why, you shall say, at break of day: 15 'Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!'"
They sailed and sailed as winds might blow, Until at last the blanched mate said: "Why, now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead. 20 These very winds forget the way, For God from these dread seas is gone. Now speak, brave Adm'r'l, speak and say--" He said: "Sail on! sail on! and on!"
They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate: 25 "This mad sea shows his teeth to-night; He curls his lip, he lies in wait, With lifted teeth as if to bite: Brave Adm'r'l, say but one good word; What shall we do when hope is gone?" 30 The words leapt as a leaping sword: "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck And peered through darkness. Ah, that night Of all dark nights! And then, a speck-- 35 A light! a light! a light! a light! It grew, a starlit flag unfurled! It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. He gained a world; he gave that world Its greatest lesson; "On! sail on!" 40
--_Joaquin Miller_
--_By permission of the publishers, Whitaker & Ray-Wiggin Co._
WHAT, SHALL, WHY. (Appendix A, 7 and 8.)
Give examples of words or phrases which when repeated become (1) unemphatic, (2) more emphatic, (3) equivalent to a climax. (Introduction, pp. 31 and 32.)
Compare the mate's attitude of mind with that of the Admiral. How is the difference indicated by the Stress?
* * * * *
FROM THE "APOLOGY" OF SOCRATES
From "The Dialogues of Plato"
1. Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name which you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that you killed Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even although I am not wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little while, your desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For I am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking now only to those of you who have condemned me to death. And I have another thing to say to them: You think that I was convicted through deficiency of words--I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have gained an acquittal. Not so; the deficiency which led to my conviction was not of words--certainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence or inclination to address you as you would have liked me to address you, weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying and doing many things which you have been accustomed to hear from others, and which, as I say, are unworthy of me. But I thought that I ought not to do anything common or mean in the hour of danger; nor do I now repent of the manner of my defence, and I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For neither in war nor yet at law ought any man to use every way of escaping death. For often in battle there is no doubt that if a man will throw away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may escape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding death, but in avoiding unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I depart hence, condemned by you to suffer the penalty of death, and they too go their ways, condemned by the truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my reward--let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be regarded as fated,--and I think that they are well.
2. And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for I am about to die, and that is the hour in which men are gifted with prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that immediately after my death punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me will surely await you. Me you have killed because you wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give an account of your lives. But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. For I say that there will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whom hitherto I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be more severe with you, and you will be more offended at them. For if you think that by killing men you can avoid the accuser censuring your lives, you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible or honourable; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be crushing others, but to be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter before my departure to the judges who have condemned me.
3. Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you about this thing which has happened, while the magistrates are busy, and before I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then a while, for we may as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my friends, and I should like to show you the meaning of this event which has happened to me. O my judges--for you I may truly call judges--I should like to tell you of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the familiar oracle within me has constantly been in the habit of opposing me even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error about anything; and now, as you see, there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition, either as I was leaving my house and going out in the morning, or when I was going up into this court, or while I was speaking, at anything which I was going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing I either said or did touching this matter has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the explanation of this? I will tell you. I regard this as a proof that what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us who think that death is an evil are in error. This is a great proof to me of what I am saying, for the customary sign would surely have opposed me had I been going to evil and not to good.
4. Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is a great reason to hope that death is a good, for one of two things: either death is a state of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change and migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you suppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed even by the sight of dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king will not find many such days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if death is like this, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if death is the journey to another place, and there, as men say, all the dead are, what good, O my friends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world below, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos and Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus, and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What would not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I, too, shall have a wonderful interest in a place where I can converse with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and other heroes of old, who have suffered death through an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall be able to continue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also in that; I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise and is not. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to examine the leader of the great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus, or Sisyphus, or numberless others, men and women too! What infinite delight would there be in conversing with them and asking them questions! For in that world they do not put a man to death for this; certainly not. For besides being happier in that world than in this, they will be immortal, if what is said is true.
5. Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a truth--that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He and his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own approaching end happened by mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be released was better for me; and therefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my accusers or my condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of them meant to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.
6. Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, to punish them and I would have you trouble them, as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything, more than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they are really nothing,--then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caring about that for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are something when they are really nothing. And if you do this, I and my sons will have received justice at your hands.
7. The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die, and you to live. Which is better God only knows.
--_Benjamin Jowett_
Illustrate from this extract the general principle that incompleteness is expressed by means of the Rising, and completeness by means of the Falling Inflection.
Par. 1. FOR NEITHER IN WAR NOR YET AT LAW ... DEATH. Explain the Inflection placed on this negative statement. Give a similar example from Par. 2.
I MUST ABIDE BY MY AWARD ... LET THEM ABIDE BY THEIRS. Explain the opposite Inflections on antithetical words and phrases. If one part of the antithesis is a negation, what is the Inflection? (Introduction, pp. 19 and 20.) Give examples from Par. 2.
I AM OLD AND MOVE SLOWLY ... WRONG. Explain the Emphasis in these sentences. Which one of a pair of contrasted words is necessarily emphatic? Give examples from this and the following paragraph, in which both are emphatic, and explain why. (Introduction, pp. 30-32.)
Par. 4. Explain the Inflection on the questions. (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)
What clauses in this paragraph are really parenthetical in force? How does the voice subordinate them? Give similar examples from other paragraphs. (Introduction, pp. 24 and 25.)
* * * * *
HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY
From "The Lady of the Lake"
The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell; Enough remains of glimmering light 5 To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe. With cautious step, and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake; 10 And not the summer solstice there, Tempered the midnight mountain air, But every breeze that swept the wold, Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold. In dread, in danger, and alone, 15 Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journeyed on; Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned.
Beside its embers red and clear, 20 Basked, in his plaid, a mountaineer; And up he sprung with sword in hand,-- "Thy name and purpose! Saxon, stand!"-- "A stranger."--"What dost thou require?"-- "Rest and a guide, and food and fire. 25 My life's beset, my path is lost. The gale has chilled my limbs with frost."-- "Art thou a friend to Roderick?"--"No."-- "Thou darest not call thyself a foe?"-- "I dare! to him and all the band 30 He brings to aid his murderous hand."-- "Bold words!--but, though the beast of game The privilege of chase may claim, Though space and law the stag we lend, Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend, 35 Who ever recked, where, how, or when, The prowling fox was trapped or slain? Thus, treacherous scouts,--yet sure they lie, Who say thou camest a secret spy!"-- "They do, by Heaven!--Come Roderick Dhu, 40 And of his clan the boldest two, And let me but till morning rest, I write the falsehood on their crest."-- "If by the blaze I mark aright, Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight."-- 45 "Then, by these tokens mayest thou know, Each proud oppressor's mortal foe."-- "Enough, enough; sit down and share A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare."--
He gave him of his Highland cheer, 50 The hardened flesh of mountain deer; Dry fuel on the fire he laid, And bade the Saxon share his plaid. He tended him like welcome guest, Then thus his further speech addressed:-- 55 "Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu A clansman born, a kinsman true; Each word against his honour spoke, Demands of me avenging stroke; Yet more,--upon thy fate, 'tis said, 60 A mighty augury is laid. It rests with me to wind my horn, Thou art with numbers overborne; It rests with me, here, brand to brand, Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand: 65 But not for clan, nor kindred's cause, Will I depart from honour's laws; To assail a wearied man were shame, And stranger is a holy name; Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 70 In vain he never must require. Then rest thee here till dawn of day; Myself will guide thee on the way, O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward. Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 75 As far as Coilantogle's ford; From thence thy warrant is thy sword."-- "I take thy courtesy, by Heaven, As freely as 'tis nobly given!"-- "Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 80 Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." With that he shook the gathered heath, And spread his plaid upon the wreath; And the brave foemen, side by side, Lay peaceful down, like brothers tried, 85 And slept until the dawning beam Purpled the mountain and the stream.
--_Sir Walter Scott_
PREPARATORY.--Connect this scene with the rest of the poem.
Give a dramatic form to this extract, describing definitely the scenery and stage-setting. One reader may render the descriptive parts, another the speeches of Roderick Dhu, and a third those of Fitz-James.
WANDERER'S STEPS, CAUTIOUS STEP, TRECHEROUS SCOUTS, BOLDEST TWO. (Appendix A, 6.)
25 and 70. (Appendix A, 5.) 1-4. Note the word-pictures. How do they affect the Pause? (Introduction, pp. 7 and 8.)
7. NOT ENOUGH. With what is it contrasted? Which word is emphatic? Where do the Pauses occur in this line?
9. What is the atmosphere of this line? What is the Quality of voice? (Introduction, p. 34.)
10-11. What Inflection? Why? What is the Shading when compared with the two following lines? (Introduction, p. 24.)
16-17. Give an example of Grouping.
18-19. Compare the Shading of these two lines.
22. What feeling and movement are here expressed? How does the voice give expression to them? (Introduction, pp. 5, 6, and 27.)
Describe the mental attitude of each of the speakers. What is the Stress in each case? (Introduction, pp. 27-29.)
38. THE PROWLING FOX ... SCOUTS. What is the mental attitude here? What Stress is the result? (Introduction, p. 28.) How does the rest of the speech differ from the preceding? What is the Inflection? (Introduction, p. 18.)
What is the Stress of ordinary conversation? Illustrate from the above selection.
32-39. BOLD WORDS ... SPY. (Introduction, p. 24.)
48. Why should SIT DOWN be kept distinct from SHARE? How is this effected?
60. 'TIS SAID. How does the voice subordinate this phrase? (Introduction, p. 24.)
66-69. Which are the emphatic words and why are they emphatic?
77. What feeling is introduced here? How does the voice express it?
* * * * *
THE OUTLAW
From "Rokeby"
O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there, Would grace a summer queen.
And as I rode by Dalton-Hall, 5 Beneath the turrets high, A Maiden on the castle wall Was singing merrily,--
"O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green; 10 I'd rather rove with Edmund there Than reign our English queen."--
"If, Maiden, thou would'st wend with me, To leave both tower and town, Thou first must guess what life lead we 15 That dwell by dale and down. And if thou canst that riddle read, As read full well you may, Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed As blithe as Queen of May."-- 20
Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair, And Greta woods are green; I'd rather rove with Edmund there. Than reign our English queen.
"I read you by your bugle-horn, 25 And by your palfrey good, I read you for a Ranger sworn, To keep the king's greenwood."-- "A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, And 'tis at peep of light; 30 His blast is heard at merry morn, And mine at dead of night."--
Yet sung she, "Brignall banks are fair, And Greta woods are gay; I would I were with Edmund there, 35 To reign his Queen of May!
"With burnish'd brand and musketoon, So gallantly you come, I read you for a bold Dragoon, That lists the tuck of drum."-- 40 "I list no more the tuck of drum, No more the trumpet hear; But when the beetle sounds his hum My comrades take the spear.
"And O! though Brignall banks be fair 45 And Greta woods be gay, Yet mickle must the maiden dare Would reign my Queen of May!
"Maiden! a nameless life I lead, A nameless death I'll die! 50 The fiend whose lantern lights the mead Were better mate than I! And when I'm with my comrades met Beneath the greenwood bough, What once we were we all forget, 55 Nor think what we are now.
"Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer queen." 60
--_Sir Walter Scott_
PREPARATORY.--"The Life of an Outlaw." Speak on this subject, illustrating from such characters as Rob Roy, Robin Hood, etc., and emphasizing the pathos of such a life.
For dramatic rendering see preparatory notes on _Highland Hospitality_.
1-4. What Stress indicates the state of mind reflected by these lines? (Introduction, p. 29.)
3, 11. What Inflection is placed on THERE? (Introduction, p. 16.)
12. What word may be supplied after REIGN? How is this indicated in the reading? (Introduction, p. 10.)
13-20. Read these lines with a view to Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)
Give examples of Grouping throughout the poem and show how the Pause is affected. (Introduction, p. 11.)
What words in stanza iii are emphatic through contrast? In stanza v?
What feeling in the last half of stanza v? (Introduction, pp. 10-12.) In what Time, Pitch, and Force are these lines read? Give your reasons.
* * * * *
OF STUDIES
From the "Essays"
Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots, and marshalling of affairs, come best from those that are learned.
To spend too much time in studies, is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humour of a scholar. They perfect nature and are perfected by experience: for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience.
Crafty men contemn studies; simple men admire them; and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider.
Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things.
Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a good memory, if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not.
If a man's wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again; if his wits be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the schoolmen; if he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' cases. So every defect of the mind may have a special receipt.
--_Lord Bacon_
Preparatory.--Observe the sentence structure employed throughout this extract, and make a list of the antithetical words and phrases.
This lesson may be used as an exercise to illustrate the principle of Inflection as applied to antithetical words or phrases and to series of words or phrases parallel in construction. (Introduction, p. 20.)
* * * * *
THE INFLUENCE OF ATHENS
From essay "On Mitford's History of Greece"
If we consider merely the subtlety of disquisition, the force of imagination, the perfect energy and elegance of expression, which characterize the great works of Athenian genius, we must pronounce them intrinsically most valuable. But what shall we say when we reflect that from hence have sprung, directly or indirectly, all the noblest creations of the human intellect; that from hence were the vast accomplishments and the brilliant fancy of Cicero, the withering fire of Juvenal, the plastic imagination of Dante, the humour of Cervantes, the comprehension of Bacon, the wit of Butler, the supreme and universal excellence of Shakespeare?
All the triumphs of truth and genius over prejudice and power, in every country and in every age, have been the triumphs of Athens. Wherever a few great minds have made a stand against violence and fraud, in the cause of liberty and reason, there has been her spirit in the midst of them; inspiring, encouraging, consoling;--by the lonely lamp of Erasmus, by the restless bed of Pascal, in the tribune of Mirabeau, in the cell of Galileo, on the scaffold of Sidney.
But who shall estimate her influence on private happiness? Who shall say how many thousands have been made wiser, happier, and better, by those pursuits in which she has taught mankind to engage; to how many the studies which took their rise from her have been wealth in poverty, liberty in bondage, health in sickness, society in solitude?
Her power is, indeed, manifested at the bar, in the senate, in the field of battle, in the schools of philosophy. But these are not her glory. Wherever literature consoles sorrow, or assuages pain; wherever it brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears, and ache for the dark house and the long sleep,--there is exhibited, in its noblest form, the immortal influence of Athens.
The dervish, in the Arabian tale, did not hesitate to abandon to his comrade the camels with their loads of jewels and gold, while he retained the casket of that mysterious juice which enabled him to behold at one glance all the hidden riches of the universe. Surely it is no exaggeration to say that no external advantage is to be compared with that purification of the intellectual eye which gives us to contemplate the infinite wealth of the mental world, all the hoarded treasures of its primeval dynasties, all the shapeless ore of its yet unexplored mines. This is the gift of Athens to man.
Her freedom and her power have, for more than twenty centuries, been annihilated; her people have degenerated into timid slaves; her language, into a barbarous jargon; her temples have been given up to the successive depredations of Romans, Turks, and Scotchmen; but her intellectual empire is imperishable.
And when those who have rivalled her greatness shall have shared her fate; when civilization and knowledge shall have fixed their abode in distant continents; when the sceptre shall have passed away from England; when, perhaps, travellers from distant regions shall in vain labour to decipher on some mouldering pedestal the name of our proudest chief, shall hear savage hymns chaunted to some misshapen idol over the ruined dome of our proudest temple, and shall see a single naked fisherman wash his nets in the river of the ten thousand masts,--her influence and her glory will still survive,--fresh in eternal youth, exempt from mutability and decay, immortal as the intellectual principle from which they derived their origin, and over which they exercise their control.
--_Macaulay_
Illustrate from this lesson the principle of Inflection as applied to (1) a series of words parallel in construction; (2) rhetorical questions.
How should the principal clause in the last paragraph be made prominent by the voice? (Introduction, p. 33.)
* * * * *
NATIONAL MORALITY
1. I believe there is no permanent greatness to a nation except it be based upon morality. I do not care for military greatness or military renown. I care for the condition of the people among whom I live. There is no man in England who is less likely to speak irreverently of the Crown and Monarchy of England than I am; but crowns, coronets, mitres, military display, the pomp of war, wide colonies, and a huge empire, are, in my view, all trifles light as air, and not worth considering, unless with them you can have a fair share of comfort, contentment, and happiness, among the great body of the people. Palaces, baronial castles, great halls, stately mansions, do not make a nation. The nation in every country dwells in the cottage; and unless the light of your Constitution can shine there, unless the beauty of your legislation and the excellence of your statesmanship are impressed there on the feelings and condition of the people, rely upon it, you have yet to learn the duties of government.
2. I have not pleaded, as you have observed, that this country should remain without adequate and scientific means of defence. I acknowledge it to be the duty of your statesmen, acting upon the known opinions and principles of ninety-nine out of every one hundred persons in the country, at all times, with all possible moderation, but with all possible efficiency, to take steps which shall preserve order within and on the confines of your kingdom. But I shall repudiate and denounce the expenditure of every shilling, the engagement of every man, the employment of every ship which has no object but intermeddling in the affairs of other countries and endeavouring to extend the boundaries of an Empire which is already large enough to satisfy the greatest ambition, and I fear is much too large for the highest statesmanship to which any man has yet attained.
3. The most ancient of profane historians has told us that the Scythians of his time were a very warlike people, and that they elevated an old scimitar upon a platform as a symbol of Mars, for to Mars alone, I believe, they built altars and offered sacrifices. To this scimitar they offered sacrifices of horses and cattle, the main wealth of the country, and more costly sacrifices than to all the rest of their gods. I often ask myself whether we are at all advanced in one respect beyond those Scythians. What are our contributions to charity, to education, to morality, to religion, to justice, and to civil government, when compared with the wealth we expend in sacrifices to the old scimitar?
4. Two nights ago I addressed in this hall a vast assembly composed to a great extent of your countrymen, who have no political power, who are at work from the dawn of the day to the evening, and who have therefore limited means of informing themselves on these great subjects. Now I am privileged to speak to a somewhat different audience. You represent those of your great community who have a more complete education, who have on some points greater intelligence, and in whose hands reside the power and influence of the district. I am speaking, too, within the hearing of those whose gentle nature, whose finer instincts, whose purer minds, have not suffered as some of us have suffered in the turmoil and strife of life. You can mould opinion, you can create political power,--you cannot think a good thought on this subject and communicate it to your neighbours,--you cannot make these points topics of discussion in your social circles and more general meetings, without affecting sensibly and speedily the course which the government of your country will pursue. May I ask you, then, to believe, as I do most devoutly believe, that the moral law was not written for men alone in their individual character, but that it was written as well for nations, and for nations great as this of which we are citizens. If nations reject and deride that moral law, there is a penalty which will inevitably follow. It may not come at once, it may not come in our lifetime; but, rely upon it, the great Italian is not a poet only, but a prophet, when he says:
The sword of heaven is not in haste to smite, Nor yet doth linger.
5. We have experience, we have beacons, we have landmarks enough. We know what the past has cost us, we know how much and how far we have wandered, but we are not left without a guide. It is true, we have not, as an ancient people had, Urim and Thummin--those oraculous gems in Aaron's breast--from which to take counsel, but we have the unchangeable and eternal principles of the moral law to guide us, and only so far as we walk by that guidance can we be permanently a great nation, or our people a happy people.
--_The Right Honourable John Bright_
BARONIAL, CASTLES, CHARACTER, PAST. (Appendix A, 1.)
Par. 1. MILITARY GREATNESS, MILITARY RENOWN. Note the transferred Emphasis. (Introduction, pp. 31 and 32.)
CROWNS, CORONETS, ETC. Explain the Inflection on each member of this series. Give similar examples from this paragraph and from Pars. 3, 4, and 5.
UNLESS WITH THEM, ETC. How does the voice prepare the listener for this clause? Give a similar example from Par. 4.
YOU HAVE YET TO LEARN, ETC. How is this clause made prominent?
Par. 2. Give an analysis of the second sentence from the standpoint of Perspective.
THE EXPENDITURE ... SHIP. How is the Climax brought out?
FOR THE HIGHTEST ... ATTAINED. Note the Grouping. Give another example from this sentence.
Par. 4. NATIONS. What Inflection on this word? With what is it contrasted?
* * * * *
HAMLET'S ADVICE TO THE PLAYERS
Act III. Scene 2
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very 5 torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, 10 who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.
Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion 15 be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror 20 up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now, this overdone or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one 25 must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that neither having the accent of Christains nor the gait of Christain, pagan, nor man, have so 30 strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
--_Shakespeare_
MOUTH, TOWN-CRIER, TAME, JOURNEYMEN. Why are these words emphatic? (Introduction, p. 30.)
Explain FROM THE PURPOSE OF PLAYING, COME TARDY OFF, THE CENSURE OF THE WHICH ... OTHERS. What are the emphatic words in each?
TORRENT, TEMPEST, WHIRLWIND. Observe the Climax.
Give other examples of Climax from this selection and show how the Emphasis is employed. (Introduction, p. 31.)
Select parenthetical clauses and show how they are subordinated. (Introduction, p. 24.)
Read the last two sentences with a view to Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)
* * * * *
ROSABELLE
From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"
O listen, listen, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
"Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
"The blackening wave is edged with white; To inch and rock the sea-mews fly; The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, Whose screams forebode that wreck is =nigh=.
"Last night the gifted Seer did view A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay; Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch; Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?"--
"'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir To-night at Roslin leads the ball, But that my ladye-mother there Sits lonely in her castle-hall.
"'Tis not because the ring they ride, And Lindesay at the ring rides well, But that my sire the wine will chide If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle."--
O'er Roslin all that dreary night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam; 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moonbeam.
It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud, Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie, Each Baron, for a sable shroud, Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seem'd all on fire within, around, Deep sacristy and altar's pale; Shone every pillar foliage-bound, And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.
Blazed battlement and pinnet high, Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair-- So still they blaze, when fate is nigh The lordly line of high Saint Clair.
There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle; Each one the holy vault doth hold-- But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!
And each Saint Clair was buried there With candle, with book, and with knell; But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung The dirge of lovely Rosabelle!
--_Sir Walter Scott_
PREPARATORY.--Describe the scene suggested by the first stanza.
Make three scenes of the rest of the poem, and give a descriptive title to each.
Articulation. (Appendix A, 1, 3, and 6.)
Stanza i. How is the ellipsis in l. 3 indicated?
Stanza ii. What is the difference between the way the speaker addresses the crew and that in which he addresses the lady?
Stanzas iii-iv. How does the reader make prominent the four different arguments of the speaker in ll. 9-15, at the same time showing that each is a stronger warning than the last? (Introduction, pp. 24, 25, and 31.)
Stanzas v-vi. What is the Inflection on the negative statements in the first two lines of each stanza?
Stanzas vii-xi. What feeling pervades the description of the ominous light over Roslyn? What Quality of voice is the natural outcome? (Introduction, p. 34.)
What are the central ideas in stanzas vii, ix, and x?
How is the break in the thought after FAIR, (stanza xi) shown? (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)
Stanzas xii-xiii. What phrases contrast the burial of the Saint Clairs with that of Rosabelle? What contrast of feeling?
* * * * *
THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS
December, 1697
The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,-- "Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er? For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail; The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail. God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win; 5 Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?" "The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide; Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side. See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried bayonets gleam; They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe have cross'd the stream! 10 Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints! I trow There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!"
So spoke the bold French Mareschal with him who led the van, Whilst rough and red before their view the turbid river ran. Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine, 15 And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line. Hard by there stood a swarthy man was leaning on his sword, And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word. "I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there; I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare. 20 If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true? There may be danger in the deed, but there is honour too."
The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said, "Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart awaken'd from the dead? Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know, 25 That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow, And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may: If honour is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,-- The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way, And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,-- 30 Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!"
Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say, But he turn'd him to his little band, O, few, I ween, were they! The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray. No one of all that company but bore a gentle name, 35 Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame. All they had march'd with great Dundee to where he fought and fell, And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well; And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim, As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn; 40 And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either side. To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died; And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell. Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men, 45 Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.
"The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is the foe,-- Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go? From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide, And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside. 50 No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall; The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all. But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air. Come, brothers! let me name a spell shall rouse your souls again, 55 And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart and vein. Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more; Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.
Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,-- Again upon the Garry's banks, on Scottish soil we stand! 60 Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring; Again I hear our leader's call: 'Upon them for the King!' Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn? The soul of Græme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in?"
No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each other's hand, 65 Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band. High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore, Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot, and cannon-roar,-- "Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began, Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man!" 70 Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd the flame: The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came. Yet onward push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd, With thousand armed foes before, and none behind to aid Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong the torrent swept, 75 That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept. Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before: "The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach the shore! See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line! Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them in the Rhine!" 80
Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding shrill, And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill? How they toss their mighty branches struggling with the tempest's shock; How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock? Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river; 85 Though the water flashed around them, not an eye was seen to quiver; Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold; For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts of old. One word was spoken among them, and through the ranks it spread,-- "Remember our dead Claverhouse!" was all the Captain said. 90 Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while, Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd toward the isle.
The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong; The German foot goes seldom back where armed foemen throng. But never had they faced in field so stern a charge before, 95 And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore. Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline, That rises o'er the parent springs of rough and rapid Rhine,-- Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven than came the Scottish band Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it sword in hand. 100 In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!
O lonely island of the Rhine,--where seed was never sown, What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown? What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through the rain, She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream, and plain? 105 A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round; A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound; And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its quivering glare To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there.
And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for those who fought so well? 110 And did they honour those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell? What meed of thanks was given to them let agèd annals tell. Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup with wine? It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,-- A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed: 115 The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed. And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer? What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer? What matter'd it that men should vaunt and loud and fondly swear,
That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere? 120 They bore within their breasts the grief that fame can never heal,-- The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel. Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might see again,-- For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountains, loch and glen-- For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea, 125 Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!
Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood: And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die-- The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by, 130 And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep and dangerous ford The Passage of the Scot.
--_William Edmondstoune Aytoun_
PREPARATORY.--Narrate briefly the events of this poem, and show by a blackboard diagram the situation of the island, the position of the armies, etc.
Into how many dramatic scenes can the poem be divided? Describe each one, showing what part of the poem it covers.
For exercise in dramatic rendering, see notes on _Highland Hospitality_, pp. 153 and 154.
In what state of mind are the first two speakers? Compare their speeches in this respect with the first speech of the Scottish Captain--"I'VE SEEN A WILDER," ETC. What is the difference in Time, Pitch, and Stress?
3. RIVER'S SWEEP, FOE. Which is more emphatic? Compare MAN and HORSE, l. 8.
10-12. Give some examples of Climax in the second stanza and show how the Force and the Pitch are affected.
24. "HATH BOLD DUGUESCLIN'S," ETC. Supply the undercurrent of thought between the first line of this speech and the second. How is this suggested in reading? (Introduction, p. 14.)
33. HE TURNED HIM TO HIS LITTLE BAND--O FEW, ETC. How can the break in the thought be indicated? (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)
33-46. O FEW I WEEN ... NOT TURN AGAIN. What two feelings predominate?
Compare the first part of the Captain's speech with the second part from the standpoint of energy. What is the difference in Force and Pitch? (Introduction, pp. 23 and 26.)
65. NO STAY,--NO PAUSE, ETC. What part does spontaneous Imitation play here, and in the following stanza? (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)
69. NOW, BY THE HOLY CROSS! ETC. Where should the longest Pause be made in this line?
78. THE CURRENT'S STRONG, ETC. What are the Pitch, Force, and Stress? (Introduction, pp. 22, 26, and 29.)
93. THE GERMAN HEART, ETC. Emphasis. (Introduction, p. 31.)
96. AND NEVER HAD THEY FELT, ETC. Note Grouping and Pause.
99. SCARCE SWIFTER, ETC. What is the Stress? Why? (Introduction, p. 28.)
101. IN VAIN. Note the transition at this line. (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)
113. WHY SHOULD THEY BRING, ETC. How does the voice indicate the insincerity of thought in these lines? (Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.)
What Inflection is used on the various questions in this and the preceding stanzas? (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)
127-133. Note the Grouping and the Shading. (Introduction, p. 33.)
* * * * *
CRANFORD SOCIETY
From "Cranford"
In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all the holders of houses above a certain rent are women. If a married couple come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he is either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Cranford evening parties, or he is accounted for by being with his regiment, his ship, or closely engaged in business all the week in the great neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on a railway. In short, whatever does become of the gentlemen, they are not at Cranford. What could they do if they were there? The surgeon has his round of thirty miles, and sleeps at Cranford; but every man cannot be a surgeon. For keeping the trim gardens full of choice flowers without a weed to speck them; for frightening away little boys who look wistfully at the said flowers through the railings; for rushing out at the geese that occasionally venture into the gardens if the gates are left open; for deciding all questions of literature and politics without troubling themselves with unnecessary reasons or arguments; for obtaining clear and correct knowledge of everybody's affairs in the parish; for keeping their neat maidservants in admirable order; for kindness (somewhat dictatorial) to the poor, and real tender good offices to each other whenever they are in distress--the ladies of Cranford are quite sufficient. "A man," as one of them observed to me once, "is _so_ in the way in the house!" Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's proceedings, they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions. Indeed, as each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity, pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation; but, somehow, good-will reigns among them to a considerable degree.
Then there were rules and regulations for visiting and calls; and they were announced to any young people who might be staying in the town, with all the solemnity with which the old Manx laws were read once a year on the Tinwald Mount.
"Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after your journey to-night, my dear" (fifteen miles in a gentleman's carriage). "They will give you some rest to-morrow; but the next day, I have no doubt, they will call; so be at liberty after twelve--from twelve to three are our calling hours."
Then, after they had called--
"It is the third day, I dare say your mamma has told you, my dear, never to let more than three days elapse between receiving a call and returning it; and also, that you are never to stay longer than a quarter of an hour."
"But am I to look at my watch? How am I to find out when a quarter of an hour has passed?"
"You must keep thinking about the time, my dear, and not allow yourself to forget it in conversation."
As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether they received or paid a call, of course no absorbing subject was ever spoken about. We kept ourselves to short sentences of small talk, and were punctual to our time.
I imagine that a few of the gentlefolks of Cranford were poor, and had some difficulty in making both ends meet; but they were like the Spartans, and concealed their smart under a smiling face. We none of us spoke of money, because that subject savoured of commerce and trade; and though some might be poor, we were all aristocratic. The Cranfordians had that kindly _esprit de corps_ which made them overlook all deficiencies in success when some among them tried to conceal their poverty. When Mrs. Forrester, for instance, gave a party in her baby-house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofa by a request that she might get the tea-tray out from underneath, every one took this novel proceeding as the most natural thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and ceremonies as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular servants' hall, second table, with house-keeper and steward, instead of the one little charity-school maiden, whose short ruddy arms could never have been strong enough to carry the tray upstairs, if she had not been assisted in private by her mistress, who now sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes.
There were one or two consequences arising from this general but unacknowledged poverty, and this very much acknowledged gentility, which were not amiss, and which might be introduced into many circles of society to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabitants of Cranford kept early hours, and clattered home in their pattens, under the guidance of a lantern-bearer, about nine o'clock at night; and the whole town was abed and asleep by half-past ten. Moreover, it was considered "vulgar" (a tremendous word in Crawford) to give anything expensive, in the way of eatable or drinkable, at the evening entertainments. Wafer bread-and-butter and sponge-biscuits were all that the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson gave; and she was sister-in-law to the late Earl of Glenmire, although she did practise such "elegant economy."
"Elegant economy!" How naturally one falls back into the phraseology of Cranford! There, economy was always "elegant," and money-spending always "vulgar and ostentatious;" a sort of sour-grapeism which made us very peaceful and satisfied. I never shall forget the dismay felt when a certain Captain Brown came to live at Cranford, and openly spoke about his being poor--not in a whisper to an intimate friend, the doors and windows being previously closed, but in the public street, in a loud military voice, alleging his poverty as a reason for not taking a particular house. The ladies of Cranford were already rather moaning over the invasion of their territories by a man and a gentleman. He was a half-pay captain, and had obtained some situation on a neighbouring railway, which had been vehemently petitioned against by the little town; and if, in addition to his masculine gender, and his connection with the obnoxious railway, he was so brazen as to talk of being poor--why, then, indeed, he must be sent to Coventry. Death was as true and as common as poverty; yet people never spoke about that loud out in the streets. It was a word not to be mentioned to ears polite. We had tacitly agreed to ignore that any with whom we associated on terms of visiting equality could ever be prevented by poverty from doing anything that they wished. If we walked to or from a party, it was because the night was _so_ fine, or the air _so_ refreshing, not because sedan-chairs were expensive. If we wore prints instead of summer silks, it was because we preferred a washing material; and so on, till we blinded ourselves to the vulgar fact that we were, all of us, people of very moderate means. Of course, then, we did not know what to make of a man who could speak of poverty as if it was not a disgrace. Yet, somehow, Captain Brown made himself respected in Cranford, and was called upon, in spite of all resolutions to the contrary.
--_Mrs. Gaskell_
Give examples of momentary completeness in the second and sixth sentences of Par. 1. (Introduction, p. 16.)
What Inflection is placed on the Interrogative sentence in Par. 1? (Introduction, p. 19.)
Select words throughout the lesson which are emphatic through contrast and tell what Inflection is placed on them. (Introduction, pp. 20 and 21.)
How are the parenthetical clauses kept in the background? (Introduction, p. 24.)
WHEN MRS FORRESTER ... SPONGE-CAKES. Account for the Inflection on the various phrases and clauses of this sentence.
THOUGH SHE KNEW, AND WE KNEW, AND SHE KNEW THAT WE KNEW. Explain the Emphasis. (Introduction, pp. 30-32.)
* * * * *
SIR GALAHAD
My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure. The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 5 The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel: They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, 10 Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies' hands.
How sweet are looks that ladies bend On whom their favours fall! For them I battle till the end, 15 To save from shame and thrall: But all my heart is drawn above, My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine: I never felt the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine. 20 More bounteous aspects on me beam, Me mightier transports move and thrill; So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer A virgin heart in work and will.
When down the stormy crescent goes, 25 A light before me swims, Between dark stems the forest glows, I hear a noise of hymns: Then by some secret shrine I ride; I hear a voice but none are there; 30 The stalls are void, the doors are wide, The tapers burning fair. Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean, The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 35 And solemn chaunts resound between.
Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark; I leap on board: no helmsman steers: I float till all is dark. 40 A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the Holy Grail; With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! 45 My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars.
When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, 50 The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, The streets are dumb with snow. The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 55 And gilds the driving hail. I leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields; But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 60
A maiden knight--to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here. I muse on joy that will not cease. 65 Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose odours haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armour that I wear, 70 This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.
The clouds are broken in the sky, And thro' the mountain-walls A rolling organ-harmony 75 Swells up, and shakes and falls. Then move the trees, the copses nod, Wings flutter, voices hover clear: "O just and faithful knight of God! Ride on! the prize is near." 80 So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the Holy Grail.
--_Alfred Tennyson_
PREPARATORY.--Point out the contrast of scene in stanza i. How has the poet obtained contrast of sound? Note the difficulties of Articulation.
Enumerate the manifestations by means of which Sir Galahad apprehends the continual proximity of the Holy Grail.
Select the lines in which the mystical element is most strongly marked. What feeling is aroused in reading these lines?
In what Quality of voice does this feeling find expression? (Introduction, p. 34.)
What is the prevailing Quality of voice?
A ROLLING ORGAN-HARMONY, ETC. What idea predominates? How does it affect the Quality of voice?
* * * * *
SONG FOR SAINT CECILIA'S DAY
November 22, 1687
From harmony, from heavenly harmony This universal frame began; When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, 5 The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise ye more than dead. Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, In order to their stations leap, And Music's power obey. 10 From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began; From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man. 15
What passion cannot Music raise and quell? When Jubal struck the chorded shell, His listening brethren stood around, And, wondering, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound; 20 Less than a God they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
The trumpet's loud clangour 25 Excites us to arms With shrill notes of anger And mortal alarms. The double double double beat Of the thundering drum 30 Cries, Hark! the foes come; Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!
The soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers, 35 Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depth of pains, and height of passion 40 For the fair, disdainful dame.
But oh! what art can teach, What human voice can reach The sacred organ's praise? Notes inspiring holy love, 45 Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above.
Orpheus could lead the savage race, And trees unrooted left their place, Sequacious of the lyre: 50 But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher: When to her organ vocal breath was given An angel heard, and straight appear'd Mistaking Earth for Heaven.
GRAND CHORUS
As from the power of sacred lays 55 The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise To all the blessed above; So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, 60 The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.
--_John Dryden_
What feeling pervades the first and last stanzas? The second stanza? In what Quality of voice does each of these feelings find expression? (Introduction, pp. 33-35.)
Illustrate by means of the third, fourth, and fifth stanzas the extent to which Imitation enters into reading. (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)
Account for the gradually increasing Emphasis in ll. 11-15, 48-54, and 60-63. (Introduction, p. 31.)
3-6. What is the Shading and Inflection? (Introduction, pp. 16 and 33.) Compare with these ll. 55-61.
16. What is the Inflection on this question? (Introduction, p. 19.) Compare with this ll. 42-44.
21. THEY THOUGHT. How does the reader give to these words the force of a parenthetical clause? (Introduction, p. 33.)
22-23. Note the Grouping.
31. How does the voice make the transition to direct discourse? (Introduction, p. 24.)
42-54. What is the mental attitude? What is the corresponding Stress? (Introduction, p. 29.)
44. ORGAN'S. Account for the marked Emphasis on this word. Compare BRIGHT CECILIA, l. 51.
* * * * *
THE DAY WAS LINGERING
The day was lingering in the pale northwest, And night was hanging o'er my head,-- Night where a myriad stars were spread; While down in the east, where the light was least, Seem'd the home of the quiet dead. 5 And, as I gazed on the field sublime, To watch the bright, pulsating stars, Adown the deep where the angels sleep Came drawn the golden chime Of those great spheres that sound the years 10 For the horologe of time. Millenniums numberless they told, Millenniums a million-fold From the ancient hour of prime.
--_Charles Heavysege_
PREPARATORY.--Compare other passages from literature which suggest the "music of the spheres," for example: Dryden's _Song for Saint Cecilia's Day, The Moonlight Scene_ from _The Merchant of Venice_, Milton's _The Hymn_.
What is the atmosphere of ll. 1-4? Of ll. 5-14? In what two different Qualities of voice do the corresponding feelings find expression?
Read ll. 6-11, with a view to Perspective.
Note the Grouping in ll. 9-11.
* * * * *
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER
Much have I travelled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been, Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told 5 That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet never did I breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; 10 Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific--and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
--_John Keats_
PREPARATORY.--How is the fundamental idea of this sonnet illustrated in _The Key to Human Happiness?_ (p. 266.)
What feeling pervades the last six lines? In which line is this feeling most marked? In what Quality of voice does it find expression? (Introduction, pp. 33-35.)
Select the words which are emphatic through contrast, expressed or implied. (Introduction, p. 32.)
* * * * *
GREAT THINGS WERE NE'ER BEGOTTEN IN AN HOUR
Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour; Ephemerons in birth, are such in life; And he who dareth, in the noble strife Of intellects, to cope for real power,-- Such as God giveth as His rarest dower 5 Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,-- Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower Till the long shadows of the night arrive, Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won, Plucked from green boughs, soon wither; those that last 10 Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon And summer's fiery glare in vain are past. Life is the hour of labour; on Earth's breast Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.
--_Sir Daniel Wilson (By permission)_
PREPARATORY.--What is the essential thought in this sonnet? Quote corresponding passages. Give illustrations from history and fiction.
What words are emphatic because of (_a_) contrast expressed, (_b_) contrast implied? (Introduction, pp. 30 and 32.)
Read ll. 3-9, with a view to Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)
* * * * *
A WOOD LYRIC
Into the stilly woods I go, Where the shades are deep and the wind-flowers blow, And the hours are dreamy and lone and long, And the power of silence is greater than song. Into the stilly woods I go, 5 Where the leaves are cool and the wind-flowers blow.
When I go into the stilly woods, And know all the flowers in their sweet, shy hoods, The tender leaves in their shimmer and sheen Of darkling shadow, diaphanous green, 10 In those haunted halls where my footstep falls, Like one who enters cathedral walls, A spirit of beauty floods over me, As over a swimmer the waves of the sea, That strengthens and glories, refreshens and fills, 15 Till all mine inner heart wakens and thrills With a new and a glad and a sweet delight, And a sense of the infinite out of sight, Of the great unknown that we may not know, But only feel with an inward glow 20 When into the great, glad woods we go.
O life-worn brothers, come with me Into the wood's hushed sanctity, Where the great, cool branches are heavy with June, And the voices of summer are strung in tune; 25 Come with me, O heart out-worn, Or spirit whom life's brute-struggles have torn, Come, tired and broken and wounded feet, Where the walls are greening, the floors are sweet, The roofs are breathing and heaven's airs meet. 30 Come, wash earth's grievings from out of the face, The tear and the sneer and the warfare's trace, Come, where the bells of the forest are ringing, Come, where the oriole's nest is swinging, Where the brooks are foaming in amber pools, 35 The mornings are still and the noonday cools. Cast off earth's sorrows and know what I know, When into the glad, deep woods I go.
--_William Wilfred Campbell (By permission)_
PREPARATORY.--"An Afternoon alone in the Woods." Tell what one may see, and think, and feel. Illustrate by quotations from the poets.
Give numerous examples of momentary completeness throughout the poem. (Introduction, p. 16.)
How does the reader show that ll. 7-12 are merely anticipative? (Introduction, p. 17.)
What change is made in the Force in l. 13? (Introduction, p. 33.)
How is l. 15 connected with l. 13?
Observe the transition from description to appeal in l. 22. What is the change in vocal expression?
* * * * *
TO NIGHT
Swiftly walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, 5 Which make thee terrible and dear,-- Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, 10 Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand-- Come, long-sought!
When I arose and saw the dawn, 15 I sighed for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, 20 I sighed for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee 25 Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me?--And I replied, No, not thee!
Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon-- 30 Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, belovèd Night-- Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon! 35
--_Percy Bysshe Shelley_
* * * * *
THE OPENING SCENE AT THE TRIAL OF WARREN HASTINGS
From "Essay on Warren Hastings"
On the 13th of February, 1788, the sittings of the Court commenced. There have been spectacles more dazzling to the eye, more gorgeous with jewelry and cloth of gold, more attractive to grown-up children, than that which was then exhibited at Westminster; but, perhaps, there never was a spectacle so well calculated to strike a highly cultivated, a reflecting, an imaginative mind. All the various kinds of interest which belong to the near and to the distant, to the present and to the past, were collected on one spot and in one hour. All the talents and all the accomplishments which are developed by liberty and civilization were now displayed with every advantage that could be derived both from co-operation and from contrast. Every step in the proceedings carried the mind either backward, through many troubled centuries, to the days when the foundations of our constitution were laid; or far away, over boundless seas and deserts, to dusky nations living under strange stars, worshipping strange gods, and writing strange characters from right to left. The High Court of Parliament was to sit, according to forms handed down from the days of the Plantagenets, on an Englishman accused of exercising tyranny over the lord of the holy city of Benares and over the ladies of the princely house of Oude.
The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of William Rufus, the hall which had resounded with acclamations at the inauguration of thirty kings, the hall which had witnessed the just sentence of Bacon and the just absolution of Somers, the hall where the eloquence of Strafford had for a moment awed and melted a victorious party inflamed with just resentment, the hall where Charles had confronted the High Court of Justice with the placid courage which has half redeemed his fame.
Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers, robed in gold and ermine, were marshalled by the heralds under Garter King-at-Arms. The judges in their vestments of state attended to give advice on points of law. Near a hundred and seventy lords, three fourths of the Upper House as the Upper House then was, walked in solemn order from their usual place of assembling to the tribunal. The junior Baron present led the way, George Eliott, Lord Heathfield, recently ennobled for his memorable defence of Gibraltar against the fleets and armies of France and Spain. The long procession was closed by the Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marshal of the realm, by the great dignitaries, and by the brothers and sons of the King. Last of all came the Prince of Wales, conspicuous by his fine person and noble bearing.
The gray old walls were hung with scarlet. The long galleries were crowded by an audience such as has rarely excited the fears or the emulation of an orator. There were gathered together, from all parts of a great, free, enlightened and prosperous empire, grace and female loveliness, wit and learning, the representatives of every science and of every art. There were seated round the Queen, the fair-haired young daughters of the house of Brunswick. There the Ambassadors of great Kings and Commonwealths gazed with admiration on a spectacle which no other country in the world could present. There Siddons, in the prime of her majestic beauty, looked with emotion on a scene surpassing all the imitations of the stage. There the historian of the Roman Empire thought of the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against Verres, and when, before a senate which still retained some show of freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of Africa.
There were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and the greatest scholar of the age. The spectacle had allured Reynolds from that easel which has preserved to us the thoughtful foreheads of so many writers and statesmen, and the sweet smiles of so many noble matrons. It had induced Parr to suspend his labours in that dark and profound mine from which he had extracted a vast treasure of erudition--a treasure too often buried in the earth, too often paraded with injudicious and inelegant ostentation; but still precious, massive, and splendid. There appeared the voluptuous charms of her to whom the heir of the throne had in secret plighted his faith. There too was she, the beautiful mother of a beautiful race, the Saint Cecilia, whose delicate features, lighted up by love and music, art has rescued from the common decay. There were the members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised, and exchanged repartees under the rich peacock hangings of Mrs. Montague. And there the ladies, whose lips, more persuasive than those of Fox himself, had carried the Westminster election against palace and treasury, shone round Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire.
The Serjeants made proclamation. Hastings advanced to the bar and bent his knee. The culprit was indeed not unworthy of that great presence. He had ruled an extensive and populous country, had made laws and treaties, had sent forth armies, had set up and pulled down princes. And in his high place he had so borne himself that all had feared him, that most had loved him, and that hatred itself could deny him no title to glory except virtue. He looked like a great man and not like a bad man. A person small and emaciated, yet deriving dignity from a carriage which, while it indicated deference to the court, indicated also habitual self-possession and self-respect; a high and intellectual forehead; a brow pensive, but not gloomy; a mouth of inflexible decision; a face pale and worn, but serene, on which was written, as legibly as under the picture in the council-chamber at Calcutta, _Mens aequa in arduis_; such was the aspect with which the great Proconsul presented himself to his judges.
His counsel accompanied him, men all of whom were afterwards raised by their talents and learning to the highest posts in their profession--the bold and strong-minded Law, afterwards Chief-Justice of the King's Bench; the more humane and eloquent Dallas, afterwards, Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas; and Plomer, who, near twenty years later, successfully conducted in the same high court the defence of Lord Melville, and subsequently became Vice-chancellor and Master of the Rolls.
But neither the culprit nor his advocates attracted so much notice as the accusers. In the midst of the blaze of red drapery, a space had been fitted up with green benches and tables for the Commons. The managers, with Burke at their head, appeared in full dress. The collectors of gossip did not fail to remark that even Fox, generally so regardless of his appearance, had paid to the illustrious tribunal the compliment of wearing a bag and sword. Pitt had refused to be one of the conductors of the impeachment; and his commanding, copious, and sonorous eloquence was wanting to that great muster of various talents. Age and blindness had unfitted Lord North for the duties of a public prosecutor; and his friends were left without the help of his excellent sense, his tact, and his urbanity.
But in spite of the absence of these two distinguished members of the Lower House, the box in which the managers stood contained an array of speakers such as perhaps had not appeared together since the great age of Athenian eloquence. There were Fox and Sheridan, the English Demosthenes and the English Hyperides. There was Burke, ignorant, indeed, or negligent of the art of adapting his reasonings and his style to the capacity and taste of his hearers, but in amplitude of comprehension and richness of imagination superior to every orator, ancient or modern.
There, with eyes reverentially fixed on Burke, appeared the finest gentleman of the age--his form developed by every manly exercise, his face beaming with intelligence and spirit--the ingenious, the chivalrous, the high-souled Windham. Nor, though surrounded by such men, did the youngest manager pass unnoticed. At an age when most of those who distinguish themselves in life are still contending for prizes and fellowships at college, he had won for himself a conspicuous place in Parliament. No advantage of fortune or connection was wanting that could set off to the height his splendid talents and his unblemished honour. At twenty-three he had been thought worthy to be ranked with the veteran statesmen who appeared as the delegates of the British Commons at the bar of the British nobility. All who stood at the bar, save him alone, are gone--culprit, advocates, accusers. To the generation which is now in the vigour of life, he is the sole representative of a great age which has passed away. But those who, within the last ten years, have listened with delight till the morning sun shone on the tapestries of the House of Lords, to the lofty and animated eloquence of Charles, Earl Grey, are able to form some estimate of the powers of a race of men among whom he was not the foremost.
The charges, and the answers of Hastings, were first read. The ceremony occupied two whole days, and was rendered less tedious than it would otherwise have been by the silver voice and just emphasis of Cowper, the clerk of the court, near relation of the amiable poet. On the third day Burke rose. Four sittings were occupied by his opening speech, which was intended to be a general introduction to all the charges. With an exuberance of thought and splendour of diction which more than satisfied the highly raised expectations of the audience, he described the character and institutions of the natives of India; recounted the circumstances in which the Asiatic empire of Britain had originated; and set forth the constitution of the Company and of the English Presidencies. Having thus attempted to communicate to his hearers an idea of Eastern society, as vivid as that which existed in his own mind, he proceeded to arraign the administration of Hastings, as systematically conducted in defiance of morality and public law.
The energy and pathos of the great orator extorted expressions of unwonted admiration from the stern and hostile Chancellor, and, for a moment, seemed to pierce even the resolute heart of the defendant. The ladies in the galleries, unaccustomed to such displays of eloquence, excited by the solemnity of the occasion, and perhaps not unwilling to display their taste and sensibility, were in a state of uncontrollable emotion. Handkerchiefs were pulled out, smelling-bottles were handed round; hysterical sobs and screams were heard; and Mrs. Sheridan was carried out in a fit. At length the orator concluded. Raising his voice till the old arches of Irish oak resounded: "Therefore," said he, "hath it with all confidence been ordered by the Commons of Great Britain, that I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes and misdemeanours. I impeach him in the name of the Commons' House of Parliament, whose trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of the English nation, whose ancient honour he has sullied. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose rights he has trodden under foot and whose country he has turned into a desert. Lastly in the name of human nature itself, in the name of both sexes, in the name of every age, in the name of every rank, I impeach the common enemy and oppressor of all."
--_Macaulay_
This lesson is an exercise on Inflection, especially as it occurs on antithetical words or phrases and on series of words or phrases parallel in construction. (Introduction, pp. 19 and 20.)
* * * * *
PERORATION OF OPENING SPEECH AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS
1. In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to you.
2. My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of national justice. Do we want a cause, my Lords? You have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of the first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted kingdoms.
3. Do you want a criminal, my Lords? When was there so much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one? No, my Lords, you must not look to punish any other such delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not left substance enough in India to nourish such another delinquent.
4. My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have before you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors; and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world, does not behold a more glorious sight than that of men, separated from a remote people by the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral community--all the Commons of England resenting, as their own, the indignities and cruelties that are offered to all the people of India.
5. Do we want a tribunal? My Lords, no example of antiquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of human imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this. My Lords, here we see virtually, in the mind's eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose authority you sit and whose power you exercise. We have here all the branches of the royal family, in a situation between majesty and subjection, between the sovereign and the subject--offering a pledge in that situation, for the support of the rights of the Crown and the liberties of the people, both which extremities they touch.
6. My Lords, we have a great hereditary peerage here; those who have their own honour, the honour of their ancestors, and of their posterity, to guard, and who will justify, as they always have justified, that precision in the Constitution by which justice is made an hereditary office. My Lords, we have here a new nobility, who have risen and exalted themselves by various merits, by great civil and military services, which have extended the fame of this country from the rising to the setting sun. My Lords, you have here, also, the lights of our religion; you have the bishops of England. My Lords, you have that true image of the primitive church in its ancient form, in its ancient ordinances, purified from the superstitions and vices which a long succession of ages will bring upon the best institutions.
7. My Lords, these are the securities which we have in all the constituent parts of the body of this House. We know them, we reckon, we rest upon them, and commit safely the interests of India and of humanity into your hands. Therefore, it is with confidence that, ordered by the Commons, I impeach Warren Hastings, Esquire, of high crimes and misdemeanours. I impeach him in the name of the Commons of Great Britain in Parliament assembled, whose parliamentary trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of all the Commons of Great Britain, whose national character he has dishonoured. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose laws, rights, and liberties he has subverted, whose property he has destroyed, whose country he has laid waste and desolate. I impeach him in the name and by virtue of those eternal laws of justice which he has violated. I impeach him in the name of human nature itself, which he has cruelly outraged, injured and oppressed, in both sexes, in every age, rank, situation, and condition of life.
--_Edmund Burke_
What effect would the solemnity of the occasion and the gravity of the accusation have on the Quality of the speaker's voice? (Introduction, p. 34.)
Par. 2. CAUSE. What words in Pars. 3, 4, and 5 are emphatic through contrast with this word? Point out similar contrasts in Par. 6.
Account for the Inflection on the various questions.
How are the Climaxes in Pars. 2, 5, and 7 interpreted vocally? (Introduction, p. 31.)
* * * * *
THE SONG MY PADDLE SINGS
West wind, blow from your prairie nest, Blow from the mountains, blow from the west. The sail is idle, the sailor too; O! wind of the west, we wait for you. Blow, blow! 5 I have wooed you so, But never a favour you bestow. You rock your cradle the hills between, But scorn to notice my white lateen.
I stow the sail, unship the mast: 10 I wooed you long, but my wooing's past; My paddle will lull you into rest. O! drowsy wind of the drowsy west, Sleep, sleep, By your mountain steep, 15 Or down where the prairie grasses sweep! Now fold in slumber your laggard wings, For soft is the song my paddle sings.
August is laughing across the sky, Laughing while paddle, canoe, and I, 20 Drift, drift, Where the hills uplift On either side of the current swift.
The river rolls in its rocky bed; My paddle is plying its way ahead 25 Dip, dip, While the waters flip In foam as over their breast we slip.
And oh, the river runs swifter now; The eddies circle about my bow. 30 Swirl, swirl! How the ripples curl In many a dangerous pool awhirl!
And forward far the rapids roar, Fretting their margin for evermore. 35 Dash, dash, With a mighty crash, They seethe, and boil, and bound, and splash.
Be strong, O paddle! be brave, canoe! The reckless waves you must plunge into. 40 Reel, reel, On your trembling keel, But never a fear my craft will feel.
We've raced the rapid, we're far ahead! The river slips through its silent bed. 45 Sway, sway, As the bubbles spray And fall in tinkling tunes away.
And up on the hills against the sky, A fir-tree rocking its lullaby, 50 Swings, swings, Its emerald wings, Swelling the song that my paddle sings.
--_E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)_ (_By arrangement with the Author_)
By examples from the above poem show to what extent Imitation enters into vocal expression. (Introduction, pp. 4-6.)
* * * * *
THE DEFENCE OF THE BRIDGE
From "Horatius"
... The Consul's brow was sad, And the Consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall And darkly at the foe. "Their van will be upon us 5 Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, What hope to save the town?"
Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: 10 "To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, 15 And the temples of his gods?
"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me, Will hold the foe in play. 20 In yon straight path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?"
Then out spake Spurius Lartius,-- 25 A Ramnian proud was he,-- "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee." And out spake strong Herminius,-- Of Titian blood was he,-- 30 "I will abide on thy left side, And keep the bridge with thee."
"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou sayest, so let it be." And straight against that great array 35 Forth went the dauntless Three. For Romans in Rome's quarrel Spared neither land nor gold, Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life, In the brave days of old. 40
Then none was for a party; Then all were for the state; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great: Then lands were fairly portioned; 45 Then spoils were fairly sold: The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.
Now, Roman is to Roman More hateful than a foe, 50 And the Tribunes beard the high, And the Fathers grind the low. As we wax hot in faction, In battle we wax cold: Wherefore men fight not as they fought 55 In the brave days of old.
Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs, The Consul was the foremost man To take in hand an axe: 60 And Fathers mixed with Commons Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, And smote upon the planks above, And loosed the props below.
Meanwhile the Tuscan army, 65 Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded 70 A peal of warlike glee, As that great host with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three. 75
The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose: And forth three chiefs came spurring 80 Before that deep array; To earth they sprang, their swords they drew, And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow way;
Aunus from green Tifernum, 85 Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves Sicken in Ilva's mines; And Picus, long to Clusium Vassal in peace and war, 90 Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar.
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus 95 Into the stream beneath; Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth; At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; 100 And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust.
Then Ocnus of Falerii Rushed on the Roman Three; And Lausulus of Urgo, 105 The rover of the sea; And Aruns of Volsinium, Who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, 110 And wasted fields, and slaughtered men, Along Albinia's shore.
Herminius smote down Aruns; Lartius laid Ocnus low; Right to the heart of Lausulus 115 Horatius sent a blow. "Lie there," he cried, "fell pirate! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark. 120 No more Campania's hinds shall fly To woods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursèd sail."
But now no sound of laughter Was heard among the foes. 125 A wild and wrathful clamour From all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance Halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth 130 To win the narrow way.
But hark! the cry is Astur: And lo! the ranks divide, And the great Lord of Luna Comes with his stately stride. 135 Upon his ample shoulders Clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand Which none but he can wield.
He smiled on those bold Romans 140 A smile serene and high; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, And scorn was in his eye. Quoth he: "The she-wolf's litter Stand savagely at bay; 145 But will ye dare to follow If Astur clears the way?"
Then, whirling up his broadsword With both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius, 150 And smote with all his might. With shield and blade Horatius Right deftly turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh: 155 The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow.
He reeled, and on Herminius He leaned one breathing-space; Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds, 160 Sprang right at Astur's face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, So fierce a thrust he sped, The good sword stood a hand-breadth out Behind the Tuscan's head. 165
And the great Lord of Luna Fell at that deadly stroke, As falls on Mount Alvernus A thunder-smitten oak. Far o'er the crashing forest 170 The giant arms lie spread; And the pale augurs, muttering low, Gaze on the blasted head.
On Astur's throat Horatius Right firmly pressed his heel, 175 And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel. "And see," he cried, "the welcome, Fair guests, that waits you here! What noble Lucumo comes next, 180 To taste our Roman cheer?"
But at his haughty challenge A sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, Along that glittering van. 185 There lacked not men of prowess, Nor men of lordly race; For all Etruria's noblest Were round the fatal place. But all Etruria's noblest 190 Felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corpses, In the path the dauntless Three.
Yet one man for one moment Strode out before the crowd; 195 Well known was he to all the Three, And they gave him greeting loud. "Now welcome, welcome, Sextus! Now welcome to thy home! Why dost thou stay, and turn away? 200 Here lies the road to Rome."
Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread; 205 And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay.
But meanwhile axe and lever 210 Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. "Come back, come back, Horatius!" Loud cried the Fathers all. 215 "Back Lartius! back Herminius! Back, ere the ruin fall!"
Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they passed beneath their feet 220 They felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces. And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more. 225
But with a crash like thunder Fell every loosened beam, And, like a dam, the mighty wreck Lay right athwart the stream: And a long shout of triumph 230 Rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops Was splashed the yellow foam.
Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind; 235 Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. "Down with him!" cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face, "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, 240 "Now yield thee to our grace."
Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, To Sextus naught spake he: 245 But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome:
"Oh, Tiber! Father Tiber! 250 To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, Take thou in charge this day!" So he spake, and speaking sheathed The good sword by his side, 255 And with his harness on his back, Plunged headlong in the tide.
No sound of joy or sorrow Was heard from either bank; But friends and foes in dumb surprise, 260 With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, 265 And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer.
But fiercely ran the current, Swollen high by months of rain: And fast his blood was flowing, 270 And he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armour, And spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking, But still again he rose. 275
Never, I ween, did swimmer, In such an evil case Struggle through such a raging flood Safe to the landing-place: But his limbs were borne up bravely 280 By the brave heart within, And our good Father Tiber Bore bravely up his chin.
"Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus: "Will not the villain drown? 285 But for this stay, ere close of day We should have sacked the town!" "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena, "And bring him safe to shore; For such a gallant feat of arms 290 Was never seen before."
And now he feels the bottom; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands; 295 And now, with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd.
--_Macaulay_
PREPARATORY.--What is the historic back-ground of the ballad from which this selection is taken? Narrate briefly the events as told by Macaulay in _Horatius_. Where is the scene of the dramatic events here portrayed? Who are the chief actors? Who are the speakers?
Show whether the words and phrases repeated in the following lines are accompanied by increased Emphasis or whether the Emphasis is transferred: ll. 1-4, 41-46, 108-109, 118-121, 188-190, 198-199, 202-205, 214-217, 240-241, 244-245, 252, 292-295. (Introduction, pp. 30-32.) Give examples of Emphasis through contrast, throughout the selection.
What Inflection is placed on the questions in ll. 8, 13-16, 23-24? Give reasons.
Compare the mental attitude of Horatius in ll. 11-16, and ll. 17-24. What is the difference in Stress?
ll. 38-39. What Inflection and Emphasis on the series of words? (Introduction, pp. 20 and 31.)
In what way does Imitation enter into the reading of ll. 72-75, 82-84, 95-100, 160-163, 218-221, 292-299? How are the Time and Stress affected? How does Imitation affect the Pitch in ll. 230-233, 156-157, 172-173, 238-241, 265-267, 284-291?
ll. 144-147. In what Quality of voice should Astur's speech be read?
l. 153. What is the most important word?
ll. 178-181, 196-201. How does the derision affect the Stress and the Inflection? (Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.)
ll. 186-187. Explain the Inflection on this negative statement.
ll. 238-241, 284-291. Compare the feelings of Sextus with those of Lars Porsena. How is the difference shown in the Quality of voice? (Introduction, pp. 33-35.)
* * * * *
ON THE DEATH OF KING EDWARD VII
Delivered in the British House of Commons, May 12th, 1910
The late King, who has been suddenly taken away from us, had, at the time of his death, not yet completed the tenth year of his reign. Those years were crowded with moving and stirring events, both abroad, in the Empire, and here at home. In our relations with foreign countries they have been years of growing friendships, of new understandings, of stronger and surer safeguards for the peace of mankind. Within the Empire during the same time the sense of interdependence, the consciousness of common interests and common risks, the ever-tightening bonds of corporate unity have been developed and vivified as they had never been before. Here at home, as though it were by way of contrast, controversial issues of the gravest kind--economic, social, and constitutional--have ripened into a rapid maturity.
Sir, in all these multiform manifestations of our national and imperial life, history will assign a part of singular dignity and authority to the great Ruler whom we have lost. In external affairs his powerful personal influence was steadily and zealously directed to the avoidance not only of war, but of the causes and pretexts of war, and he well earned the title by which he will always be remembered, "the Peacemaker of the World."
Within the boundaries of his own Empire, by his intimate knowledge of its component parts, by his broad and elastic sympathy not only with ambitions, and aspirations, but with the sufferings and the hardships of his people, by his response to any and every appeal whether to the sense of justice or the spirit of compassion, he won a degree of loyalty, affection, and confidence which few Sovereigns have ever enjoyed. At home, we all recognize that, above the din and dust of our hard-fought controversies, detached from party and attached only to the common interests, we had in him an arbiter ripe in experience, judicial in temper, at once a reverent worshipper of our traditions and a watchful guardian of our constitutional liberties.
One is tempted, indeed constrained, on such an occasion as this to ask what were the qualities which enabled a man called comparatively late in life to new duties of unexampled complexity--what were the qualities which in practice proved him so admirably fitted to the task, and have given him an enduring and illustrious record among the rulers and governors of the nations? I should be disposed to assign the first place to what sounds a commonplace--but in its persistent and unfailing exercise is one of the rarest of virtues--his strong, abiding, dominating sense of public duty.
King Edward, be it remembered, was a man of many and varied interests. He was a sportsman in the best sense, an ardent and discriminating patron of the Arts, and as well equipped as any man of his time for the give-and-take of social intercourse; wholly free from the prejudices and narrowing rules of caste; at home in all companies; an enfranchised citizen of the world. To such a man, endowed as he was by nature, placed where he was by fortune and by circumstances, there was open, if he had chosen to enter it, an unlimited field for self-indulgence. But, Sir, as every one will acknowledge who was brought into daily contact with him in the sphere of affairs, his duty to the State always came first. In this great business community there was no better man of business, no man by whom the humdrum obligations--punctuality, method, preciseness, and economy of time and speech--were more keenly recognized or more severely practised. I speak with the privilege of close experience when I say that wherever he was, whatever may have been his apparent preoccupations, in the transactions of the business of the State there were never any arrears, there was never any trace of confusion, there was never any moment of avoidable delay.
Next to these, Sir--I am still in the domain of practice and administration--I should put his singular, perhaps an unrivalled, tact in the management of men, and a judgment of intuitive shrewdness as to the best outlet from perplexed and often baffling situations. He had, in its highest and best development, the genius of common sense. These rare gifts of practical efficiency were, during the whole of his Kingship, yoked to the service of a great ideal. He was animated every day of his Sovereignty by the thought that he was at once the head and the chief servant of that vast complex organism which we call the British Empire. He recognized in the fullest degree both the powers and the limitations of a Constitutional Monarch. Here, at home, he was, though no politician, as every one knows, a keen Social Reformer. He loved his people at home and over the seas. Their interests were his interests; their fame was his fame. He had no self apart from them.
I will not touch for more than a moment on more delicate and sacred ground--on his personal charm, the warmth and wealth of his humanity; his unfailing considerateness for all who in any capacity were permitted to work for him. I will only say, in this connection that no man in our time has been more justly beloved by his family and his friends, and no Ruler in our or in any time has been more sincerely true, more unswervingly loyal, more uniformly kind to his advisers and his servants. By the unsearchable counsels of the Disposer of Events he has been called suddenly, and without warning, to his account. We are still dazed under the blow which has befallen us. It is too soon, as yet, even to attempt to realize its full meaning, but this, at least, we may say at once and with full assurance, that he has left to his people a memory and an example which they will never forget, a memory of great opportunities greatly employed, and an example which the humblest of his subjects may treasure and strive to follow, of simplicity, courage, self-denial, tenacious devotion up to the last moment of conscious life to work, to duty, and to service.
--_The Right Honourable Herbert Henry Asquith_
WITHIN THE BOUNDARIES ... ENJOYED. Make an analysis of this sentence with a view to Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)
DETACHED ... INTERESTS. Note the contrasts and indicate the Inflection on each.
TEMPTED, ... CONSTRAINED. What difference in Emphasis? (Introduction, p. 31.) Compare SINGULAR, PERHAPS UNRIVALLED; IN OUR OR IN ANY TIME.
* * * * *
THE HEROES OF MAGERSFONTEIN
Dec. 11, 1899
1. During the night it was considered expedient that the Highland Brigade, 4,000 strong, under General Wauchope, should get close enough to the lines of the foe to make it possible to charge the heights. At midnight the gallant but ill-fated men moved cautiously through the darkness toward the kopje where the Boers were most strongly intrenched. They were led by a guide who was supposed to know every inch of the country, out into the darkness of an African night.
2. So onward until three of the clock on the Monday. Then out of the darkness a rifle rang sharp and clear, a herald of disaster--a soldier had tripped in the dark over the hidden wires laid down by the enemy. In a second, in the twinkling of an eye, the searchlights of the Boers fell broad and clear as the noonday sun on the ranks of the doomed Highlanders, though it left the enemy concealed in the shadows of the frowning mass of hills behind them. For one brief moment the Scots seemed paralysed by the suddenness of their discovery, for they knew that they were huddled together like sheep within fifty yards of the trenches of the foes.
3. Then clear above the confusion rolled the voice of the General: "Steady, men, steady!"--and like an echo to the veterans out came the crash of nearly a thousand rifles not fifty paces from them. The Highlanders reeled before the shock like trees before the tempest; their best, their bravest, fell in that wild hail of lead. General Wauchope was down, riddled with bullets; yet gasping, dying, bleeding from every vein, the Highland chief raised himself on his hands and knees and cheered his men forward. Men and officers fell in heaps together.
4. The Black Watch charged, and the Gordons and the Seaforths, with a yell that stirred the British camp below, rushed onward to death or disaster. The accursed wires caught them around the legs until they floundered like trapped wolves, and all the time the rifles of the foe sang the song of death in their ears. They fell back broken and beaten, leaving nearly 1,300 dead and wounded, just where the broad breast of the grassy veldt melts into the embrace of the rugged African hills; and an hour later, the dawning came of the dreariest day that Scotland has known for a generation past.
5. Of her officers, the flower of her chivalry, the pride of her breeding, but few remained to tell the tale--a sad tale truly, but one untinted with dishonour nor smirched with disgrace, for up these heights under similar circumstances, even a brigade of devils could scarce have hoped to pass. All that mortal man could do the Scots did; they tried, they failed, they fell, and there is nothing left us now but to revere their memory and give them a place of honour in the pages of history.
6. Three hundred yards to the rear of the little township of Modder River, just as the sun was sinking in a blaze of African splendour, on the evening of Tuesday, the 12th of December, a long shallow grave lay exposed in the breast of the veldt. To the westward, the broad river fringed with trees runs murmuringly; to the eastward, the heights still held by the enemy, scowled menacingly; north and south the veldt undulated peacefully; a few paces to the northward of that grave, fifty dead Highlanders lay dressed as they had fallen on the field of battle: they had followed their chief to the field, and they were to follow him to the grave.
7. How grim and stern these men looked as they lay face upward to the sky, with great hands clutched in the last agony, and brows still knit with the stern lust of the strife in which they had fallen. The plaids, dear to every Highland clan, were represented there, and out of the distance came the sound of pipes. It was the General coming to join his men. There, right under the eyes of the enemy, moved with slow and solemn tread all that remained of the Highland Brigade. In front of them walked the chaplain, with bared head, dressed in his robes of office; then came the pipers with their pipes, sixteen in all, and behind them, with arms reversed, moved the Highlanders, dressed in all the regalia of their regiments, and in the midst the dead General, borne by four of his comrades. Out swelled the pipes to the strains of "The Flowers of the Forest," now ringing proud and high until the soldier's head went back in haughty defiance--and eyes flashed through tears like sunlight on steel, now sinking to moaning wail like a woman mourning for her first-born, until the proud heads drooped forward till they rested on heaving chests, and tears rolled down the wan and scarred faces, and the choking sobs broke through the solemn rhythm of the march of death.
8. Right up to the grave they marched, then broke away in companies, until the General lay in the shallow grave with a Scottish square of armed men around him. Only the dead man's son and a small remnant of his officers stood with the chaplain and the pipers, while the solemn service of the church was spoken.
9. Then once again the pipes pealed out, and "Lochaber No More" cut through the stillness like a cry of pain until one could almost hear the widow in her Highland home mourning for the soldier she would welcome back no more.
10. Then, as if touched with the magic of one thought, the soldiers turned their tear-damped eyes from the still form in the shallow grave toward the height where Cronje, the Lion of Africa, and his soldiers stood. Then every cheek flushed crimson, and strong jaws set like steel, and the veins on the hands that clasped the rifle handles swelled almost to bursting with the fervour of the grip, and that look from those silent, armed men spoke more eloquently than ever spoke the tongues of orators. For on each frowning face the spirit of vengeance sat, and each sparkling eye asked silently for blood.
11. At the head of the grave, at the point nearest the enemy, the General was laid to sleep, his officers grouped around him, while in line behind him, his soldiers were laid in a double row wrapped in their blankets. No shots were fired over the dead men resting so peacefully, only the salute was given, and then the men marched campwards as the darkness of an African night rolled over the far-stretching breadth of the veldt.
--_From "The London Daily News" (By permission)_
Par. 1. Note the Grouping, Pause, and Shading in the last sentence. Compare the Grouping in the preceding sentence, in the last sentence of Par. 4, in the first sentence of Par. 7, and in the second sentence of Par. 10.
Explain the Inflection and Emphasis on the phrases parallel in construction, in the fifth and sixth sentences of Par. 7, and the second sentence of Par. 10.
* * * * *
THE FUNERAL OF JULIUS CÆSAR
From "Julius Cæsar," Act III. Scene ii.
The Forum. _Enter Brutus, Cassius, and a throng of Citizens._
_All._ We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied.
_Bru._ Then follow me, and give me audience, friends.-- Cassius, go you into the other street, And part the numbers.-- Those that will hear me speak, let them stay here; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; And public reasons shall be rendered Of Cæsar's death.
_1 Cit._ I will hear Brutus speak.
_2 Cit._ I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons, When severally we hear them rendered. 10
[_Exit Cassius, with some of the Citizens. Brutus goes into the rostrum._]
_3 Cit._ The noble Brutus is ascended: silence!
_Bru._ Be patient till the last. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, 20 this is my answer.--Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would 30 not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
_All._ None, Brutus, none.
_Bru._ Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. 40
[_Enter Antony and others, with Cæsar's body._]
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart,--that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
_All._ Live, Brutus, live! live!
_1 Cit._ Bring him with triumph home unto his house.
_2 Cit._ Give him a statue with his ancestors. 50
_3 Cit._ Let him be Cæsar.
_4 Cit._ Cæsar's better parts Shall now be crown'd in Brutus.
_1 Cit._ We'll bring him to his house with shouts and clamours.
_Bru._ My countrymen,--
_2 Cit._ Peace! silence! Brutus speaks.
_1 Cit._ Peace, ho!
_Bru._ Good countrymen, let me depart alone, And, for my sake, stay here with Antony: Do grace to Cæsar's corpse, and grace his speech 60 Tending to Cæsar 's glories; which Mark Antony, By our permission, is allow'd to make. I do entreat you, not a man depart, Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [_Exit_]
_1 Cit._ Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony.
_3 Cit._ Let him go up into the public chair; We'll hear him.--Noble Antony, go up.
_Ant._ For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you.
[_He goes up into the rostrum._]
_4 Cit._ What does he say of Brutus?
_3 Cit._ He says, for Brutus' sake, 70 He finds himself beholding to us all.
_4 Cit._ 'T were best to speak no harm of Brutus here.
_1 Cit._ This Cæsar was a tyrant.
_3 Cit._ Nay, that's certain: We are blest that Rome is rid of him.
_2 Cit._ Peace! let us hear what Antony can say.
_Ant._ You gentle Romans,--
_All._ Peace, ho! let us hear him.
_Ant._ Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. 80 The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus Hath told you, Cæsar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,-- For Brutus is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men.-- Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral. 90 He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. 100 You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, 110 And men have lost their reason!--Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar, And I must pause till it come back to me.
_1 Cit._ Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.
_2 Cit._ If thou consider rightly of the matter, Cæsar has had great wrong.
_3 Cit._ Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place.
_4 Cit._ Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 't is certain he was not ambitious. 120
_1 Cit._ If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
_2 Cit._ Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.
_3 Cit._ There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.
_4 Cit._ Now mark him, he begins again to speak.
_Ant._ But yesterday the word of Cæsar might Have stood against the world: now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. O masters! if I were dispos'd to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 130 Who, you all know, are honourable men; I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cæsar; I found it in his closet, 'tis his will: Let but the commons hear this testament,-- Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,-- And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood. 140 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue.
_4 Cit._ We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.
_All._ The will, the will! we will hear Cæsar's will.
_Ant._ Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Cæsar lov'd you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar, 150 It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
_4 Cit._ Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony; You shall read us the will,--Cæsar's will.
_Ant._ Will you be patient? will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. I fear I wrong the honourable men Whose daggers have stabb'd Cæsar-, I do fear it.
_4 Cit._ They were traitors: honourable men! 160
_All._ The will! the testament!
_2 Cit._ They were villains, murderers: the will! read the will!
_Ant._ You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar, And let me show you him that made the will. Shall I descend? and will you give me leave?
_All._ Come down.
_2 Cit._ Descend.
_3 Cit._ You shall have leave.
[_He comes down from the rostrum._]
_4 Cit._ A ring; stand round. 170
_1 Cit._ Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.
_2 Cit._ Room for Antony!--most noble Antony.
_Ant._ Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.
_All._ Stand back! room! bear back!
_Ant._ If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle; I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on; 'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii:-- Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: 180 See, what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cæsar follow'd it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar lov'd him! This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, 190 Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep; and I perceive, you feel The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. 200 Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here. Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
_1 Cit._ O piteous spectacle!
_2 Cit._ O noble Cæsar!
_3 Cit._ O woeful day!
_4 Cit._ O traitors, villains!
_1 Cit._ O most bloody sight!
_2 Cit._ We will be revenged.
_All._ Revenge! About,--seek,--burn,--fire,--kill,--slay! 210 Let not a traitor live!
_Ant._ Stay, countrymen.
_1 Cit._ Peace there! Hear the noble Antony.
_2 Cit._ We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him.
_Ant._ Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honourable; What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, That made them do it; they are wise and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 220 I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 230 And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Cæsar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
_All._ We'll mutiny!
_1 Cit._ We'll burn the house of Brutus!
_3 Cit._ Away, then! come, seek the conspirators.
_Ant._ Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak.
_All._ Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble Antony. 240
_Ant._ Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Cæsar thus deserv'd your loves? Alas, you know not: I must tell you then: You have forgot the will I told you of.
_All._ Most true;--the will!--let's stay, and hear the will.
_Ant._ Here is the will, and under Cæsar's seal. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy-five drachmas.
_2 Cit._ Most noble Cæsar!--we'll revenge his death.
_3 Cit._ O royal Caesar! 250
_Ant._ Hear me with patience.
_All._ Peace, ho!
_Ant._ Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever,--common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Cæsar! when comes such another?
_1 Cit._ Never, never!--Come, away, away! We'll burn his body in the holy place, 260 And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. Take up the body.
_2 Cit._ Go, fetch fire.
_3 Cit._ Pluck down benches.
_4 Cit._ Pluck down forms, windows, anything.
[_Exeunt all, with the body._]
_Ant._ Now let it work! Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt!
--_Shakespeare_
PREPARATORY.--For dramatic rendering see notes on _Highland Hospitality_ pp. 153 and 154.
The long speeches of Brutus and Antony may be practised by themselves as exercises in Emphasis and Inflection.
88-89. How is the parenthetical clause subordinated? Give other examples from the extracts.
153-154. Select the emphatic words.
160. What Stress is placed on TRAITORS and HONOURABLE respectively? Account for the difference.
210. ABOUT, ... SLAY! What is the Stress? Compare ll. 236-237, and ll. 259-265.
* * * * *
THE REVENGE
A Ballad of the Fleet, 1591
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away: "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward; But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, 5 And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?"
Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward; You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 10
I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard, To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain."
So Lord Howard past away with five ships of war that day, Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven; But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land 15 Very carefully and slow, Men of Bideford in Devon, And we laid them on the ballast down below; For we brought them all aboard, And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, 20 To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord.
He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight, And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight, With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. "Shall we fight or shall we fly? 25 Good Sir Richard, tell us now, For to fight is but to die! There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set." And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good English men. Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, 30 For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet."
Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roar'd a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe, With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, 35 And the little Revenge ran on thro' the long sea-lane between.
Thousands of their soldiers look'd down from their decks and laugh'd, Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft Running on and on, till delay'd By their mountain-like San Philip that, of fifteen hundred tons, 40 And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns, Took the breath from our sails, and we stay'd.
And while now the great San Philip hung above us like a cloud Whence the thunderbolt will fall Long and loud, 45 Four galleons drew away From the Spanish fleet that day, And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay, And the battle-thunder broke from them all.
But anon the great San Philip she bethought herself and went 50 Having that within her womb that had left her ill-content; And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand, For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers, And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears When he leaps from the water to the land. 55
And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, Ship after ship, the whole night long, with their battle-thunder and flame; Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame: 60 For some were sunk and many were shatter'd, and so could fight us no more-- God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?
For he said "Fight on! fight on!" Tho' his vessel was all but a wreck; And it chanced that, when half of the short summer night was gone, 65 With a grisly wound to be drest he had left the deck,
But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead, And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head, And he said, "Fight on! fight on!"
And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the summer sea, 70 And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; But they dar'd not touch us again, for they fear'd that we still could sting, So they watch'd what the end would be. And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, 75 Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, And half of the rest of us maim'd for life In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife; And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold, And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent; 80 And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, "We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We have won great glory, my men! 85 And a day less or more At sea or ashore, We die--does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner--sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain!" 90
And the gunner said "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply: "We have children, we have wives, And the Lord hath spared our lives. We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go; We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow." 95 And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe.
And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last, And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace; But he rose upon their decks, and he cried: 100 "I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do: With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!" And he fell upon their decks, and he died.
And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, 105 And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; Was he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, But they sank his body with honour down into the deep,
And they mann'd the Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, 110 And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, 115 Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself went down by the island crags To be lost evermore in the main.
--_Alfred Tennyson_
PREPARATORY.--Give a series of titles suggestive of the events narrated in this ballad; describe the picture that each title calls up, and tell on what part of the poem it is based.
What different ideals of bravery are brought out in this ballad, and by whom is each presented? Compare them with those set forth in _The Private of the Buffs_ (Fourth Reader), and _Horatius_.
1, 3, and 13. (Appendix A, 1 and 6.)
'FORE GOD ... sick. What Inflection prevails? (Introduction, pp. 17 and 18.)
What Inflection is placed on the questions in ll. 7, 25, 62, 88, and 108? (Introduction, pp. 18 and 19.)
FOR THE GLORY OF THE LORD. How is the irony brought out by the voice? (Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.)
25-28. (Introduction, p. 18.)
Compare the speech of the men (ll. 25-28) with that of Sir Richard (ll. 29-31) from the standpoint of mental attitude. How is this difference indicated by Stress?
32. Which are the emphatic words? Give your reasons. Select words that are emphatic because of contrast from ll. 34, 35, and 91. What Inflection is placed on the emphatic words in each case?
How does repetition affect the Emphasis in ll. 37-38, 53-54, 58-60, 63, and 89? (Introduction, pp. 31-33.)
40. With what word is THAT connected in sense? How does the voice make the connection? (Introduction, p. 33.)
43-47. Analyse these lines from the standpoint of Perspective.
66-67. Where do the Pauses occur? How does the Grouping affect them?
68. Why is HIMSELF emphatic?
75-81. Give examples of "momentary completeness".
93. Which is the most emphatic word in this line? Give your reason.
101-103. To what extent should Imitation enter into the reading of this speech? (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)
112-117. How can the effect of this Climax be brought out by the voice? (Introduction, p. 31.)
118. Note the transition in thought and feeling. By what change in Time, Pitch, and Force is it accompanied?
* * * * *
HERVÉ RIEL
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two, Did the English fight the French,--woe to France! And the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue, Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue, Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance, 5 With the English fleet in view.
'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full chase; First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship, Damfreville: Close on him fled, great and small, Twenty-two good ships in all; 10 And they signalled to the place, "Help the winners of a race! Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick--or, quicker still, Here's the English can and will!"
Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on board; 15 "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?" laughed they: "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred and scored, Shall the _Formidable_ here, with her twelve and eighty guns, Think to make the river-mouth by the single narrow way, Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons, 20 And with flow at full beside? Now 'tis slackest ebb of tide. Reach the mooring? Rather say, While rock stands or water runs, Not a ship will leave the bay!" 25
Then was called a council straight. Brief and bitter the debate: "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them take in tow All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow, For a prize to Plymouth Sound? 30 Better run the ships aground!" (Ended Damfreville his speech.) Not a minute more to wait! "Let the captains all and each Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the beach! 35 France must undergo her fate.
Give the word!" But no such word Was ever spoke or heard; For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck amid all these,-- A Captain? a Lieutenant? a Mate--first, second, third? 40 No such man of mark, and meet With his betters to compete! But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the fleet, A poor coasting-pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.
And, "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé Riel: 45 "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or rogues? Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings, tell On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell 'Twist the offing here and Grève, where the river disembogues? Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's for? 50 Morn and eve, night and day, Have I piloted your bay, Entered free and anchored fast, at the foot of Solidor. Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than fifty Hogues! Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's a way! 55 Only let me lead the line, Have the biggest ship to steer, Get this _Formidable_ clear, Make the others follow mine, And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well, 60 Right to Solidor past Grève, And there lay them safe and sound; And if one ship misbehave-- Keel so much as grate the ground-- Why, I've nothing but my life,--here's my head!" cries Hervé Riel. 65
Not a minute more to wait. "Steer us in, then, small and great! Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its chief. Captains, give the sailor place! He is Admiral, in brief. 70 Still the north wind, by God's grace! See the noble fellow's face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound. Keeps the passage, as its inch of way were the wide sea's profound! 75 See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock, Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! The peril, see, is past, 80 All are harboured to the last, And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate, Up the English come--too late.
So, the storm subsides to calm: They see the green trees wave 85 On the heights o'erlooking Grève. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. "Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance 90 As they cannonade away! 'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!" How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance! Out burst all with one accord, "This is Paradise for Hell! 95 Let France, let France's King, Thank the man that did the thing!" What a shout, and all one word, "Hervé Riel!" As he stepped in front once more, 100 Not a symptom of surprise In the frank, blue Breton eyes, Just the same man as before.
Then said Damfreville, "My friend, I must speak out at the end, 105 Though I find the speaking hard. Praise is deeper than the lips: You have saved the King his ships, You must name your own reward. 'Faith, our sun was near eclipse! 110 Demand whate'er you will, France remains your debtor still. Ask to heart's content and have! or my name's not Damfreville."
Then a beam of fun outbroke On the bearded mouth that spoke, 115 As the honest heart laughed through Those frank eyes of Breton blue: "Since I needs must say my say, Since on board the duty's done, And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a run?-- 120 Since 'tis ask and have, I may-- Since the others go ashore-- Come! A good whole holiday! Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!" That he asked and that he got,--nothing more. 125
Name and deed alike are lost: Not a pillar nor a post In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing-smack, 130 In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack All that France saved from the fight whence England bore the bell. Go to Paris: rank on rank Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank! 135 You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Riel. So, for better and for worse, Hervé Riel, accept my verse! In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife the Belle Aurore! 140
--_Robert Browning_ (_By permission of the owner of the copyright and Smith, Elder & Co._)
PREPARATORY.--Narrate briefly the events of the poem and describe (_a_) the council, (_b_) the scene after the ships are safely anchored.
How does this poem illustrate the truth that the highest motive in life is duty? From this standpoint compare Hervé Riel with Sir Richard Grenville in Tennyson's _The Revenge_.
Give other examples to show that true nobility does not depend on such externals as rank and position.
2. WOE TO FRANCE. How does the voice indicate that this phrase is parenthetical?
4. What is the subject of PURSUE? Its object? How does the reader make the meaning clear?
3-5. What is the Shading?
8 and 14. Supply the ellipsis in each case. How is the reading affected by an ellipsis? (Introduction, p. 10.)
12-14. What is the Stress? (Introduction, pp. 27 and 28.)
16-25. What energy characterizes these lines? With what Stress should they be read?
TWELVE AND EIGHTY GUNS, TWENTY TONS. What is the difference in the Quality of voice? Compare MAN OF MARK, SIMPLE BRETON SAILOR, ll. 40 and 42.
26. Where is the Pause? Why?
Note the transitions in ll. 27, 31, 32, and 33. How is each one indicated?
38. STOOD, STEPPED, STRUCK. Observe the increased Emphasis. Compare ll. 46 and 69.
41-43. Note the contrast. What is the Inflection on each part? (Introduction, p. 20.)
45-66. What state of mind does Hervé Riel's speech indicate throughout? What feelings predominate when he addresses (_a_) the Malouins, (_b_) the officers? What Time, Pitch, Force, and Stress are the natural expression?
46. COWARDS, FOOLS, ROGUES. What is the Inflection on each word? (Introduction, p. 20.)
65. KEEL SO MUCH, ETC. Note the Pause and Grouping.
72, 73-76, 77-84. What is the predominant feeling in each passage?
104-113. Compare the self-control of Damfreville's speech with the impulsive shout of the preceding stanza. What is the resulting difference in vocal expression?
114-116. Note the Pause and Grouping.
118-122. What is the Inflection? (Introduction, p. 17.)
129-132. Observe the Grouping.
* * * * *
THE HANDWRITING ON THE WALL
Daniel V
Belshazzar the king made a great feast to a thousand of his lords, and drank wine before the thousand. Belshazzar, whiles he tasted the wine, commanded to bring the golden and silver vessels which his father Nebuchadnezzar had taken out of the temple which was in Jerusalem; that the king, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines, might drink therein. Then they brought the golden vessels that were taken out of the temple of the house of God which was in Jerusalem; and the king, and his princes, his wives, and his concubines, drank in them. They drank wine, and praised the gods of gold, and of silver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone.
In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaister of the wall of the king's palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote. Then the king's countenance was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote one against another. The king cried aloud to bring in the astrologers, the Chaldeans, and the soothsayers. And the king spake, and said to the wise men of Babylon, Whosoever shall read this writing, and shew me the interpretation thereof, shall be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold about his neck, and shall be the third ruler in the kingdom. Then came in all the king's wise men: but they could not read the writing, nor make known to the king the interpretation thereof. Then was the king Belshazzar greatly troubled, and his countenance was changed in him, and his lords were astonied.
Now the queen by reason of the words of the king and his lords came into the banquet house: and the queen spake and said, O king, live for ever: let not thy thoughts trouble thee, nor let thy countenance be changed: There is a man in thy kingdom, in whom is the spirit of the holy gods; and in the days of thy father light and understanding and wisdom, like the wisdom of the gods, was found in him; whom the king Nebuchadnezzar thy father, the king, I say, thy father, made master of the magicians, astrologers, Chaldeans, and soothsayers; Forasmuch as an excellent spirit and knowledge and understanding, interpreting of dreams, and shewing of hard sentences, and dissolving of doubts, were found in the same Daniel, whom the king named Belteshazzar: now let Daniel be called, and he will shew the interpretation.
Then was Daniel brought in before the king. And the king spake and said unto Daniel, Art thou that Daniel, which art of the children of the captivity of Judah, whom the king my father brought out of Jewry? I have even heard of thee, that the spirit of the gods is in thee, and that light and understanding and excellent wisdom is found in thee. And now the wise men, the astrologers, have been brought in before me, that they should read this writing, and make known unto me the interpretation thereof: but they could not shew the interpretation of the thing: And I have heard of thee, that thou canst make interpretations, and dissolve doubts: now if thou canst read the writing, and make known to me the interpretation thereof, thou shalt be clothed with scarlet, and have a chain of gold about thy neck, and shalt be the third ruler in the kingdom.
Then Daniel answered and said before the king, Let thy gifts be to thyself, and give thy reward to another; yet I will read the writing unto the king, and make known to him the interpretation. O thou king, the most high God gave Nebuchadnezzar thy father a kingdom, and majesty, and glory, and honour: And for the majesty that he gave him, all people, nations, and languages, trembled and feared before him: whom he would he slew; and whom he would he kept alive; and whom he would he set up; and whom he would he put down. But when his heart was lifted up, and his mind hardened in pride, he was deposed from his kingly throne, and they took his glory from him: And he was driven from the sons of men; and his heart was made like the beasts, and his dwelling was with the wild asses: they fed him with grass like oxen, and his body was wet with the dew of heaven; till he knew that the most high God ruled in the kingdom of men, and that he appointeth over it whomsoever he will. And thou, his son, O Belshazzar, hast not humbled thine heart, though thou knewest all this; But has lifted up thyself against the Lord of heaven; and they have brought the vessels of his house before thee, and thou, and thy lords, thy wives, and thy concubines, have drunk wine in them; and thou hast praised the gods of silver, of gold, of brass, iron, wood, and stone, which see not, nor hear, nor know: and the God in whose hand thy breath is, and whose are all thy ways, hast thou not glorified: Then was the part of the hand sent from him; and this writing was written.
And this is the writing that was written, MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN. This is the interpretation of the thing: MENE; God hath numbered thy kingdom, and finished it. TEKEL; Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting. PERES; Thy kingdom is divided, and given to the Medes and Persians. Then commanded Belshazzar, and they clothed Daniel with scarlet, and put a chain of gold about his neck, and made a proclamation concerning him, that he should be the third ruler in the kingdom.
In that night was Belshazzar the king of the Chaldeans slain. And Darius the Median took the kingdom, being about threescore and two years old.
Give a dramatic form to this extract, indicating by suitable titles the various scenes suggested and the parts that would properly belong to the scenery, the action, and the dialogue respectively. The different parts may be read by different readers before one reader attempts all the parts.
* * * * *
PAUL'S DEFENCE BEFORE KING AGRIPPA
Acts xxvi
1. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art permitted to speak for thyself. Then Paul stretched forth the hand, and answered for himself: I think myself happy, King Agrippa, because I shall answer for myself this day before thee touching all the things whereof I am accused of the Jews: especially because I know thee to be expert in all customs and questions which are among the Jews: wherefore I beseech thee to hear me patiently.
2. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the first among mine own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews; which knew me from the beginning, if they would testify, that after the most straitest sect of our religion I lived a Pharisee. And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the promise made of God unto our fathers: unto which promise our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope to come. For which hope's sake, King Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews.
3. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God should raise the dead? I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Which thing I also did in Jerusalem: and many of the saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority from the chief priests; and when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities.
4. Whereupon as I went to Damascus with authority and commission from the chief priests, at midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and them which journeyed with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And I said, Who art thou, Lord? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet: for I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee; delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom now I send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them which are sanctified by faith that is in me.
5. Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision: but shewed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of Judæa, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. For these causes the Jews caught me in the temple, and went about to kill me. Having therefore obtained help of God, I continue unto this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying none other things than those which the prophets and Moses did say should come: that Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first that should rise from the dead, and should shew light unto the people, and to the Gentiles.
6. And as he thus spake for himself, Festus said with a loud voice, Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learning doth make thee mad. But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth the words of truth and soberness. For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak freely: for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him; for this thing was not done in a corner. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest. Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian. And Paul said, I would to God, that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost, and altogether such as I am, except these bonds.
7. And when he had thus spoken, the king rose up, and the governor, and Bernice, and they that sat with them: And when they were gone aside, they talked between themselves, saying, This man doeth nothing worthy of death or of bonds. Then said Agrippa unto Festus, This man might have been set at liberty, if he had not appealed unto Cæsar.
PREPARATORY.--Under what circumstances did Paul deliver this defence? Picture the scene.
What attitude of mind characterizes the chief speaker? How does this affect the reading?
How are the direct speeches in Pars. 1, 4, 6, and 7 made to stand out from the narrative? (Introduction, p. 24.)
How do the mental and emotional states of the various speakers differ? Indicate this difference by the Quality of the voice. (Introduction, p. 34.)
Point out the Climax in Par. 3. How does the voice express it?
IF THEY WOULD TESTIFY. What change in the voice subordinates this clause? (Introduction, p. 33.) Give another example from Par. 2.
* * * * *
THE STRANDED SHIP
Far up the lonely strand the storm had lifted her. And now along her keel the merry tides make stir No more. The running waves that sparkled at her prow Seethe to the chains and sing no more with laughter now. No more the clean sea-furrow follows her. No more To the hum of her gallant tackle the hale Nor'-westers roar. No more her bulwarks journey. For the only boon they crave Is the guerdon of all good ships and true, the boon of a deep-sea grave.
_Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound._
No more she mounts the circles from Fundy to the Horn, From Cuba to the Cape runs down the tropic morn, Explores the Vast Uncharted where great bergs ride in ranks, Nor shouts a broad "Ahoy" to the dories on the Banks. No more she races freights to Zanzibar and back, Nor creeps where the fog lies blind along the liner's track, No more she dares the cyclone's disastrous core of calm To greet across the dropping wave the amber isles of palm.
_Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound._
Amid her trafficking peers, the wind-wise, journeyed ships, At the black wharves no more, nor at the weedy slips, She comes to port with cargo from many a storied clime. No more to the rough-throat chantey her windlass creaks in time. No more she loads for London with spices from Ceylon,-- With white spruce deals and wheat and apples from St. John. No more from Pernambuco with cotton-bales,--no more With hides from Buenos Ayres she clears for Baltimore.
_Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound._
Wan with the slow vicissitudes of wind and rain and sun How grieves her deck for the sailors whose hearty brawls are done! Only the wandering gull brings word of the open wave, With shrill scream at her taffrail deriding her alien grave. Around the keel that raced the dolphin and the shark Only the sand-wren twitters from barren dawn till dark; And all the long blank noon the blank sand chafes and mars The prow once swift to follow the lure of the dancing stars.
_Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound._
And when the winds are low, and when the tides are still, And the round moon rises inland over the naked hill, And o'er her parching seams the dry cloud-shadows pass, And dry along the land-rim lie the shadows of thin grass, Then aches her soul with longing to launch and sink away Where the fine silts lift and settle, and sea-things drift and stray, To make the port of Last Desire, and slumber with her peers In the tide-wash rocking softly through the unnumbered years.
_Take me out, sink me deep in the green profound, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound._
--_Charles G. D. Roberts (By arrangement)_
PREPARATORY.--What is the fundamental idea of the first three stanzas? Of the fourth stanza? Of the last stanza? Of the refrain? Apply these ideas to human life? What feelings do they arouse? Show that these feelings grow stronger as the poem advances.
What Time, Pitch, and Stress are the natural expression of the atmosphere pervading the poem? Where are they most marked?
What effect has the atmosphere of the last stanza on the Quality of the voice?
HER, STIR. (Appendix A, 10.)
STRAND, FAR, CALM, BRAWLS. Distinguish the sound of _a_ in these words, and select other words from the poem with the same sound. (Appendix A, 1.)
What is the Inflection on the negative statements in the first three stanzas? On the entreaty in the refrain? (Introduction, p. 18.)
What effect do the falling Inflection, and the marked Pause after MORE, l. 3, stanza 1 produce?
AND WHEN THE WINDS ... GRASS. What is the Inflection? What is the Shading when compared with the next line?
* * * * *
SIR PATRICK SPENS
The king sits, in Dunfermline toun, Drinking the blude-red wine; "O whare will I get a skeely skipper, To sail this new ship o' mine?"
O up and spake an eldern knight, Sat at the king's right knee,-- "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor, That ever sailed the sea."
The king has written a braid letter, And sealed it wi' his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the strand.
"To Noroway, to Noroway, To Noroway o'er the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis thou maun bring her hame."
The first word that Sir Patrick read, Sae loud, loud laughèd he; The neist word that Sir Patrick read, The tear blindit his e'e.
"O wha is this has done this deed, And tauld the king o'me, To send us out, this time o' the year, To sail upon the sea?
Be't wind, be't weet, be't hail, be't sleet, Our ship must sail the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway, 'Tis we must fetch her hame."
They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, Wi' a' the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway, Upon a Wodensday.
They hadna been a week, a week, In Noroway, but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway Began aloud to say,--
"Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, And a' our queenis fee." "Ye lee, ye lee, ye lears loud! Fu' loud I hear ye lee!
For I brought as mickle white monie, As gane my men and me, And I brought a half-fou o' gude red goud, Out o'er the sea wi' me.
Mak' ready, mak' ready, my merry men a'! Our gude ship sails the morn." "Now, ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm!
I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm! And, if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm."
They hadna sailed a league, a league, A league, but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, And gurly grew the sea.
The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, It was sic a deadly storm; And the waves cam' o'er the broken ship, Till a' her sides were torn.
"O whare will I get a gude sailor, To tak' my helm in hand, Till I gae up to the tall topmast, To see if I spy land?"
"O here am I, a sailor gude, To tak' the helm in hand, Till you gae up to the tall topmast; But I fear ye'll ne'er spy land."
He hadna gane a step, a step, A step, but barely ane, When a bolt flew out o' our goodly ship, And the salt sea it cam' in.
"Gae fetch a web o' the silken claith, Anither o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side, And letna the sea come in."
They fetched a web o' the silken claith, Anither o' the twine, And they wapped them roun' that gude ship's side, But still the sea cam' in.
O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords, To weet their cork-heeled shoon! But lang or a' the play was played, They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather-bed, That floated o'er the faem; And mony was the gude lord's son, That never mair cam' hame.
The ladyes wrang their fingers white, The maidens tore their hair, A' for the sake of their true loves; For them they'll see na mair.
O lang, lang may the ladyes sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand!
And lang, lang may the maidens sit, Wi' their goud kaims in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves! For them they'll see na mair.
Half ower, half ower to Aberdour, 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
--_Old Ballad_
Into how many different scenes does this drama fall? Where is each one laid? How can each one be made to stand out by itself? (Introduction, p. 10.)
* * * * *
KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY
An ancient story Ile tell you anon. Of a notable prince, that was called king John; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right.
And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbùrye; How for his house-keeping, and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne.
An hundred men, the king did heare say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about.
"How now, father abbot, I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee, And for thy house-keeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown."
"My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing, but what is my owne; And I trust, your grace will doe me no deere, For spending of my owne true-gotten geere."
"Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.
And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead, With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe.
Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about. And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what do I think."
"O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet: But if you will give me but three weekes space, Ile do my endeavour to answer your grace."
"Now three weeks space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to mee."
Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.
Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he mett his shepheard a going to fold: "How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home; What newes do you bring us from good king John?"
"Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give; That I have but three days more to live: For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my bodie.
The first is to tell him, there in that stead, With his crowne of golde so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth.
The seconde, to tell him, without any doubt, How soon he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrinke, But tell him there truly what he does thinke."
"Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man witt? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answere your quarrel.
Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lordship, as ever may bee: And if you will but lend me your gowne, There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne."
"Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; With crozier, and miter, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appeare 'fore our fader the pope."
"Now welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say, "Tis well thou'rt come back to keepe thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall bee.
And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Tell me to one penny what I am worth."
"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Amonge the false Jewes, as I have bin told; And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I thinke, thou art one penny worser than hee."
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, "I did not thinke I had been worth so littel! --Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride this whole world about."
"You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth againe; And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, "I did not think, it could be gone so soone! --Now from the third question thou must not shrinke, But tell me here truly what I do thinke."
"Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry: You thinke I'm the Abbot of Canterbùry; But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for mee."
The king he laughed, and swore "by the masse, He make thee lord abbot this day in his place!" "Now naye, my liege, be not in such speede, For alacke I can neither write ne reade."
"Four nobles a weeke, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast showne unto mee; And tell the old abbot when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John."
--_Old Ballad_
PREPARATORY.--Divide this poem into three dramatic scenes. Who are the actors in each scene?
What is the king's attitude toward the abbot in the first scene? Toward the supposed abbot in the third scene? Where does this attitude suddenly change? Show at what points this changed attitude gradually increases in strength and where it reaches its climax. Indicate these changes by means of the voice.
What is the abbot's attitude toward the king in the first scene? How does it differ from his attitude toward the shepherd? What is the difference in vocal expression?
Where does the shepherd's attitude toward the king change? How does the voice indicate this change?
* * * * *
THE KEY TO HUMAN HAPPINESS
From "The Mill on the Floss"
1. At last Maggie's eyes glanced down on the books that lay on the window-shelf, and she half forsook her reverie to turn over listlessly the leaves of the "Portrait Gallery"; but she soon pushed this aside to examine the little row of books tied together with, string. "Beauties of the Spectator", "Rasselas", "Economy of Human Life", "Gregory's Letters",--she knew the sort of matter that was inside all these; the "Christian Year"--that seemed to be a hymn-book, and she laid it down again; but "Thomas à Kempis"--the name had come across her in her reading, and she felt the satisfaction, which every one knows, of getting some ideas to attach to a name that strays solitary in the memory. She took up the little, old, clumsy book with some curiosity; it had the corners turned down in many places, and some hand, now for ever quiet, had made at certain passages strong pen-and-ink marks, long since browned by time. Maggie turned from leaf to leaf, and read where the quiet hand pointed ... "Know that the love of thyself doth hurt thee more than anything in the world.... If thou seekest this or that, and would'st be here or there to enjoy thy own will and pleasure, thou shalt never be quiet nor free from care; for in everything somewhat will be wanting, and in every place there will be some that will cross thee.... Both above and below, which way soever thou dost turn thee, everywhere thou shalt find the Cross; and everywhere of necessity thou must have patience, if thou wilt have inward peace, and enjoy an everlasting crown.... It is but little thou sufferest in comparison of them that have suffered so much, were so strongly tempted, so grievously afflicted, so many ways tried and exercised. Thou oughtest therefore to call to mind the more heavy sufferings of others, that thou mayest the easier bear thy little adversities. And if they seem not little unto thee, beware lest thy impatience be the cause thereof.... Blessed are those ears that receive the whispers of the divine voice, and listen not to the whisperings of the world. Blessed are those ears which hearken not unto the voice which soundeth outwardly, but unto the Truth which teacheth inwardly...."
2. A strange thrill of awe passed through Maggie while she read, as if she had been awakened in the night by a strain of solemn music, telling of beings whose souls had been astir while hers was in stupor. She went on from one brown mark to another, where the quiet hand seemed to point, hardly conscious that she was reading--seeming rather to listen while a low voice said:--
3. "Why dost thou here gaze about, since this is not the place of thy rest? In heaven ought to be thy dwelling, and all earthly things are to be looked on as they forward thy journey thither. All things pass away, and thou together with them. Beware thou cleave not unto them, lest thou be entangled and perish.... If a man should give all his substance yet it is as nothing. And, if he should do great penances, yet they are but little. And if he should attain to all knowledge, he is yet far off. And if he should be of great virtue, and very fervent devotion, yet is there much wanting--to wit, one thing, which is most necessary for him. What is that? That having left all, he leave himself, and go wholly out of himself, and retain nothing of self-love.... I have often said unto thee, and now again I say the same: Forsake thyself, resign thyself, and thou shalt enjoy much inward peace.... Then shall all vain imaginations, evil perturbations, and superfluous cares fly away; then shall immoderate fear leave thee, and inordinate love shall die."
4. Maggie drew a long breath and pushed her heavy hair back as if to see a sudden vision more clearly. Here, then, was a secret of life that would enable her to renounce all other secrets; here was a sublime height to be reached without the help of outward things; here was insight, and strength and conquest, to be won by means entirely within her own soul, where a supreme Teacher was waiting to be heard. It flashed through her, like the suddenly apprehended solution of a problem, that all the miseries of her young life had come from fixing her heart on her own pleasure, as if that were the central necessity of the universe; and for the first time she saw the possibility of shifting the position from which she looked at the gratification of her own desires, of taking her stand out of herself, and looking at her own life as an insignificant part of a divinely-guided whole. She read on and on in the old book, devouring eagerly the dialogues with the invisible Teacher, the pattern of sorrow, the source of all strength, returning to it after she had been called away, and reading till the sun went down behind the willows. With all the hurry of an imagination that could never rest in the present, she sat in the deepening twilight forming plans of self-humiliation and entire devotedness; and, in the ardour of first discovery, renunciation seemed to her the entrance into that satisfaction which she had so long been craving in vain. She had not perceived--how could she until she had lived longer?--the inmost truth of the old monk's outpourings, that renunciation remains sorrow, though a sorrow borne willingly. Maggie was still panting for happiness, and was in ecstasy because she had found the key to it. She knew nothing of doctrines and systems--of mysticism or quietism; but this voice out of the far-off Middle Ages was the direct communication of a human soul's belief and experience, and came to Maggie as an unquestioned message.
5. I suppose that is the reason why the small, old-fashioned book, for which you need pay only sixpence at a book-stall, works miracles to this day, turning bitter waters into sweetness; while expensive sermons and treatises, newly issued, leave all things as they were before. It was written down by a hand that waited for the heart's prompting; it is the chronicle of a solitary hidden anguish, struggle, trust, and triumph--not written on velvet cushions to teach endurance to those who are treading with bleeding feet on the stones. And so it remains to all time a lasting record of human needs and human consolations--the voice of a brother who, ages ago, felt and suffered and renounced in the cloister, perhaps, with serge gown and tonsured head, with much chanting and long fasts, and with a fashion of speech different from ours, but under the same silent far-off heavens, and with the same passionate desires, the same strivings, the same failures, the same weariness.
--_George Eliot_
Par. 1. IF THOU SEEKEST ... PLEASURE. What principle of Inflection does this clause illustrate? Give similar examples from Par. 3.
BOTH ABOVE AND BELOW ... EVERYWHERE. Which phrase in this series has the strongest Emphasis?
THOU SUFFEREST. Which word is emphatic? (Introduction, p. 30.) What phrases are contrasted with it?
Account for the Inflection used in the last two sentences. (Introduction, p. 20.)
Par. 4. Indicate the Grouping in sentences 3 and 5.
HOW COULD SHE, ETC. What is the Inflection and Shading? (Introduction, pp. 24 and 25.)
Par. 5. What is the Inflection on NOT WRITTEN ... STONES? (Introduction p. 18.)
* * * * *
THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL
PART FIRST
"My golden spurs now bring to me, And bring to me my richest mail, For to-morrow I go over land and sea In search of the Holy Grail; Shall never a bed for me be spread, 5 Nor shall a pillow be under my head, Till I begin my vow to keep; Here on the rushes will I sleep, And perchance there may come a vision true Ere day create the world anew." 10 Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, Slumber fell like a cloud on him, And into his soul the vision flew.
The crows flapped over by twos and threes, In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees, 15 The little birds sang as if it were The one day of summer in all the year, And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees. The castle alone in the landscape lay Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray: 20
'Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree, And never its gates might opened be, Save to lord or lady of high degree; Summer besieged it on every side, But the churlish stone her assaults defied; 25 She could not scale the chilly wall, Though round it for leagues her pavilions tall Stretched left and right, Over the hills and out of sight; Green and broad was every tent, 30 And out of each a murmur went Till the breeze fell off at night. The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang, And through the dark arch a charger sprang, Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight, 35 In his gilded mail that flamed so bright It seemed the dark castle had gathered all Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall In his siege of three hundred summers long, And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf, 40 Had cast them forth: so, young and strong, And lightsome as a locust leaf, Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail, To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail.
It was morning on hill and stream and tree 45 And morning in the young knight's heart; Only the castle moodily Rebuffed the gift of the sunshine free, And gloomed by itself apart; The season brimmed all other things up 50 Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant's cup.
As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate He was 'ware of a leper, crouched by the same, Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate; And a loathing over Sir Launfal came; 55 The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, The flesh 'neath his armour 'gan shrink and crawl, And midway its leap his heart stood still Like a frozen waterfall; For this man, so foul and bent of stature, 60 Rasped harshly against his dainty nature, And seemed the one blot on the summer morn,-- So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn.
The leper raised not the gold from the dust: "Better to me the poor man's crust, 65 Better the blessing of the poor, Though I turn me empty from his door; That is no true alms which the hand can hold; He gives nothing but worthless gold Who gives from a sense of duty; 70 But he who gives a slender mite, And gives to that which is out of sight, That thread of the all-sustaining Beauty Which runs through all and doth all unite,-- The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, 75 The heart outstretches its eager palms, For a god goes with it and makes it store To the soul that was starving in darkness before."
PART SECOND
There was never a leaf on bush or tree, The bare boughs rattled shudderingly; 80 The river was numb and could not speak, For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun; A single crow on the tree-top bleak From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold 85 As if her veins were sapless and old, And she rose up decrepitly For a last dim look at earth and sea.
Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, For another heir in his earldom sate; 90 An old, bent man, worn out and frail, He came back from seeking the Holy Grail; Little he recked of his earldom's loss, No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, But deep in his soul the sign he wore, 95 The badge of the suffering and the poor.
Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air, For it was just at the Christmas time; So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime, 100 And sought for a shelter from cold and snow In the light and warmth of long-ago: He sees the snake-like caravan crawl O'er the edge of the desert, black and small. Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one, 105 He can count the camels in the sun, As over the red-hot sands they pass To where, in its slender necklace of grass, The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, And with its own self like an infant played, 110 And waved its signal of palms. "For Christ's sweet sake I beg an alms;"-- The happy camels may reach the spring, But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing, The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone, 115 That cowers beside him, a thing as lone And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas In the desolate horror of his disease.
And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee An image of Him who died on the tree; 120 Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns, And to thy life were not denied The wounds in the hands and feet and side: Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me; 125 Behold, through him, I give to thee!"
Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he Remembered in what a haughtier guise He had flung an alms to leprosie, 130 When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. The heart within him was ashes and dust; He parted in twain his single crust, He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink, 135 And gave the leper to eat and drink: 'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 'Twas water out of a wooden bowl,-- Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, And 'twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul. 140
As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place; The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, Shining and tall and fair and straight 145 As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate,-- Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of God in Man.
His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine, 150 Which mingle their softness and quiet in one With the shaggy unrest they float down upon: And the voice that was calmer than silence said: "Lo it is I, be not afraid! In many climes, without avail, 155 Thou has spent thy life for the Holy Grail; Behold it is here,--this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; This crust is my body broken for thee, This water His blood that died on the tree; 160 The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need; Not what we give, but what we share,-- For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,-- 165 Himself, his hungering neighbour, and me."
Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound:-- "The Grail in my castle here is found! Hang my idle armour up on the wall, Let it be the spider's banquet-hall; 170 He must be fenced with stronger mail Who would seek and find the Holy Grail."
The castle gate stands open now, And the wanderer is welcome to the hall As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; 175 No longer scowl the turrets tall, The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; When the first poor outcast went in at the door, She entered with him in disguise, And mastered the fortress by surprise; 180 There is no spot she loves so well on ground, She lingers and smiles there the whole year round. The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land Has hall and bower at his command; And there's no poor man in the North Countree 185 But is lord of the earldom as much as he.
--_James Russell Lowell_
PREPARATORY.--Read Tennyson's _The Holy Grail_.
Compare the mode in which Tennyson treats the pursuit of the Holy Grail, in _Sir Galahad_, with that adopted by Lowell in this poem.
Show the connection between the fundamental ideas in this poem, and those in Longfellow's _King Robert of Sicily_ and _The Legend Beautiful_.
Point out the various contrasts (_a_) of scene, (_b_) of thought, (_c_) of emotion, and show a corresponding contrast in vocal expression.
Articulation. (Appendix A, 1 and 11.)
5 and 6. What is the Inflection?
11. What changes of vocal expression accompany the transition?
14-20. Note the word-pictures and the effect of the Imaging process on the Time.
22. What is the Inflection on BE?
27-29 and 37-39. Observe the Grouping, Pause, and Inflection.
41. HAD CAST THEM FORTH. With what phrase is this parallel? How does the voice express the parallelism?
42-44. Which line expresses the main thought? How is it made prominent? (Introduction, p. 33.)
51. Where is the Pause?
65-67. Show the relative importance of the emphatic words and phrases. (Introduction, pp. 30 and 31.)
69-78. Read these lines with a view to (_a_) Perspective, (_b_) Inflection.
91. OLD, BENT. Account for the pause between these two adjectives. (Introduction, pp. 7 and 8.)
95. What is the emphatic word? Why?
107-111. Note the difference in the sound of the letter _a_ in the various words.
119-126. What feeling predominates? How are the Force, Pitch, and Time affected?
137-140. How does the voice indicate the contrast between the meagre and the sumptuous? (Introduction, pp. 34 and 35.)
141-142. Note the transition from the subjective to the objective. How is it indicated in reading?
154-166. What atmosphere pervades this speech? What Quality of voice suggests it? (Introduction, p. 35.)
167. Note the transition. What movement is suggested? What is the Stress and Quality of voice?
168-172. What state of mind does this speech suggest? What is the change in Stress and Quality?
* * * * *
ON THE DEATH OF GLADSTONE
Delivered in the Canadian House of Commons, May 26, 1898
England has lost the most illustrious of her sons; but the loss is not England's alone, nor is it confined to the great empire which acknowledges England's suzerainty, nor even to the proud race which can claim kinship with the people of England. The loss is the loss of mankind. Mr. Gladstone gave his whole life to his country; but the work which he did for his country, was conceived and carried out, on principles of such high elevation, for purposes so noble, and aims so lofty, that not his country alone, but the whole of mankind, benefited by his work. It is no exaggeration to say that he has raised the standard of civilization, and the world to-day is undoubtedly better for both the precept and the example of his life.
His death is mourned not only by England, the land of his birth, not only by Scotland, the land of his ancestors, not only by Ireland for whom he did so much, and attempted so much more; but also by the people of the two Sicilies, for whose outraged rights he once aroused the conscience of Europe, by the people of the Ionian Islands, whose independence he secured, and by the people of Bulgaria and the Danubian Provinces, in whose cause he enlisted the sympathy of his own native country. Indeed, since the days of Napoleon, no man has lived whose name has travelled so far and so wide, over the surface of the earth; no man has lived whose name alone so deeply moved the hearts of so many millions of men. Whereas Napoleon impressed his tremendous personality upon peoples far and near, by the strange fascination which the genius of war has always exercised over the imagination of men in all lands and in all ages, the name of Gladstone had come to be in the minds of all civilized nations, the living incarnation of right against might--the champion, the dauntless, tireless champion, of the oppressed against the oppressor. It is, I believe, equally true to say that he was the most marvellous mental organization which the world has seen since Napoleon--certainly the most compact, the most active and the most universal.
This last half century in which we live, has produced many able and strong men who, in different walks of life, have attracted the attention of the world at large; and of the men who have illustrated this age, it seems to me that in the eyes of posterity four will outlive and outshine all others--Cavour, Lincoln, Bismarck, and Gladstone. If we look simply at the magnitude of the results obtained, compared with the exiguity of the resources at command,--if we remember that out of the small Kingdom of Sardinia grew united Italy, we must come to the conclusion that Count Cavour was undoubtedly a statesman of marvellous skill and prescience. Abraham Lincoln, unknown to fame when he was elected to the presidency, exhibited a power for the government of men which has scarcely been surpassed in any age. He saved the American Union, he enfranchised the black race, and for the task he had to perform he was endowed in some respects almost miraculously. No man ever displayed a greater insight into the motives, the complex motives, which shape the public opinion of a free country, and he possessed almost to the degree of an instinct, the supreme quality in a statesman of taking the right decision, taking it at the right moment and expressing it in language of incomparable felicity. Prince Bismarck was the embodiment of resolute common sense, unflinching determination, relentless strength, moving onward to his end, and crushing everything in his way as unconcerned as fate itself. Mr. Gladstone undoubtedly excelled every one of these men. He had in his person a combination of varied powers of the human intellect, rarely to be found in one single individual. He had the imaginative fancy, the poetic conception of things, in which Count Cavour was deficient. He had the aptitude for business, the financial ability which Lincoln never exhibited. He had the lofty impulses, the generous inspirations which Prince Bismarck always discarded, even if he did not treat them with scorn. He was at once an orator, a statesman, a poet, and a man of business. As an orator he stands certainly in the very front rank of orators of his country or any country of his age or any age. I remember when Louis Blanc was in England, in the days of the Second Empire, he used to write to the press of Paris, and in one of his letters to "Le Temps" he stated that Mr. Gladstone would undoubtedly have been the foremost orator of England, if it were not for the existence of Mr. Bright. It may be admitted, and I think it is admitted generally, that on some occasions Mr. Bright reached heights of grandeur and pathos which even Mr. Gladstone did not attain. But Mr. Gladstone had an ability, a vigour, a fluency which no man in his age or any age ever rivalled or even approached. That is not all. To his marvellous mental powers he added no less marvellous physical gifts. He had the eye of a god, the voice of a silver bell; and the very fire of his eye, the very music of his voice swept the hearts of men even before they had been dazzled by the torrents of his eloquence.
As a statesman, it was the good fortune of Mr. Gladstone that his career was not associated with war. The reforms which he effected, the triumphs which he achieved, were not won by the supreme arbitrament of the sword. The reforms which he effected and the triumphs which he achieved were the result of his power of persuasion over his fellow-men. The reforms which he achieved in many ways amounted to a revolution. They changed, in many particulars, the face of the realm. After Sir Robert Peel had adopted the great principle which eventually carried England from protection to free trade, it was Mr. Gladstone who created the financial system which has been admitted ever since by all students of finance, as the secret of Great Britain's commercial success. He enforced the extension of the suffrage to the masses of the nation, and practically thereby made the government of monarchical England as democratic as that of any republic. He disestablished the Irish church, he introduced reform into the land tenure and brought hope into the breasts of those tillers of the soil in Ireland who had for so many generations laboured in despair. And all this he did, not by force or violence, but simply by the power of his eloquence and the strength of his personality.
Great, however, as were the acts of the man, after all he was of the human flesh, and for him, as for everybody else, there were trivial and low duties to be performed. It is no exaggeration to say that even in those low and trivial duties he was great. He ennobled the common realities of life. His was above all things a religious mind--essentially religious in the highest sense of the term. And the religious sentiment which dominated his public life and his speeches, that same sentiment, according to the testimony of those who knew him best, also permeated all his actions from the highest to the humblest. He was a man of strong and pure affections, of long and lasting friendship, and to describe the beauty of his domestic life, no words of praise can be adequate. It was simply ideally beautiful, and in the later years of his life, as touching as it was beautiful. May I be permitted, without any impropriety, to recall that it was my privilege to experience and to appreciate that courtesy, made up of dignity and grace, which was famous all the world over, but of which no one could have an appropriate opinion, unless he had been the recipient of it. In a character so complex and diversified, one may ask what was the dominant feature, what was the supreme quality, the one characteristic which marked the nature of the man. Was it his incomparable genius for finance? Was it his splendid oratorical powers? Was it his marvellous fecundity of mind? In my estimation it was not any one of these qualities. Great as they were, there was one still more marked, and if I have to give my own impression, I would say that the one trait which was dominant in his nature, which marked the man more distinctly than any other, was his intense humanity, his paramount sense of right, his abhorrence of injustice, wrong, and oppression wherever to be found or in whatever shape they might show themselves. Injustice, wrong, oppression acted upon him, as it were, mechanically, and aroused every fibre of his being, and from that moment to the repairing of the injustice, the undoing of the wrong, and the destruction of the oppression, he gave his mind, his heart, his soul, his whole life with an energy, with an intensity, with a vigour paralleled in no man unless it be the first Napoleon. There are many evidences of this in his life. When he was travelling in Southern Italy, as a tourist, for pleasure and for the benefit of the health of his family, he became aware of the abominable system which was there prevailing under the name of Constitutional Government. He left everything aside, even the object which had brought him to Italy, and applied himself to investigate and to collect evidence, and then denounced the abominable system in a trumpet blast of such power that it shook to its very foundations the throne of King Ferdinand and sent it tottering to its fall. Again, when he was sent as High Commissioner to the Ionian Islands, the injustice of keeping this Hellenic population separated from the rest of Greece, separated from the kingdom to which they were adjacent, and toward which all their aspirations were raised, struck his generous soul with such force that he became practically their advocate, and secured their independence. Again, when he had withdrawn from public life, and when, in the language of Thiers, under somewhat similar circumstances, he had returned to "ses chères études," the atrocities perpetrated by the Turks on the people of Roumania brought him back to public life with a vehemence, an impetuosity, and a torrent of fierce indignation that swept everything before it. If this be, as I think it is, the one distinctive feature of his character, it seems to explain away what are called the inconsistencies of his life. Inconsistencies there were none in his life. He had been brought up in the most unbending school of Toryism. He became the most active reformer of our times. But whilst he became the leader of the Liberal party and an active reformer, it is only due to him to say that in his complex mind there was a vast space for what is known as conservatism. His mind was not only liberal but conservative as well, and he clung to the affections of his youth until, in questions of practical moment, he found them clashing with that sense of right and abhorrence of injustice of which I have spoken. But the moment he found his conservative affections clash with what he thought right and just, he did not hesitate to abandon his former convictions and go the whole length of the reforms demanded. Thus he was always devotedly, filially, lovingly attached to the Church of England. He loved it, as he often declared. He adhered to it as an establishment in England, but the very reasons and arguments which, in his mind, justified the establishment of the Church in England, compelled him to a different course as far as that church was concerned in Ireland. In England the Church was the church of the majority, of almost the unanimity of the nation. In Ireland it was the church of the minority, and, therefore, he did not hesitate. His course was clear: he removed the one church and maintained the other. So it was with Home Rule. But coming to the subject of Home Rule, though there may be much to say, perhaps this is neither the occasion nor the place to say it. The Irish problem is dormant, not solved; but the policy proposed by Mr. Gladstone for the solution of this question has provoked too much bitterness, too deep division, even on the floor of this House, to make it advisable to say anything about it on this occasion.
I notice it, however, simply because it is the last and everlasting monument of that high sense of justice which, above all things, characterized him. When he became convinced that Home Rule was the only method whereby the long-open wound could be healed, he did not hesitate one moment, even though he were to sacrifice friends, power, popularity. And he sacrificed friends, power, popularity, in order to give that supreme measure of justice to a long-suffering people. Whatever may be the views which men entertain upon the policy of Home Rule, whether they favour that policy or whether they oppose it, whether they believe in it or whether they do not believe in it, every man, whether friend or foe of that measure, must say that it was not only a bold, but it was a noble thought, that of attempting to cure discontent in Ireland by trusting to Irish honour and Irish generosity.
Now, Sir, he is no more. England is to-day in tears, but fortunate is the nation which has produced such a man. His years are over; but his work is not closed; his work is still going on. The example which he gave to the world shall live for ever, and the seed which he has sown with such a copious hand shall still germinate and bear fruit under the full light of heaven.
--_Sir Wilfrid Laurier (By permission)_
In reading this speech, apply the principles of Pause, Inflection, Grouping, Emphasis, and Perspective illustrated in the preceding lessons.
* * * * *
THE DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY
From "King Henry VIII" Act III. Scene ii.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, 5 And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening,--nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, 10 But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: 15 I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; 20 And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.--
[_Enter Cromwell, and stands amazed_]
Why, how now, Cromwell!
_Crom._ I have no power to speak, sir.
_Wol._ What! amaz'd At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, 25 I am fall'n indeed.
_Crom._ How does your grace?
_Wol._ Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, 30 I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy,--too much honour: O, 't is a burden, Cromwell, 't is a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven! 35
_Crom._ I am glad your grace has made that right use of it.
_Wol._ I hope I have: I am able now, methinks,-- Out of a fortitude of soul I feel-- To endure more miseries, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 40 What news abroad?
_Crom._ The heaviest, and the worst Is your displeasure with the king.
_Wol._ God bless him!
_Crom._ The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place.
_Wol._ That's somewhat sudden: But he's a learned man. May he continue 45 Long in his highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em!-- What more? 50
_Crom._ That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
_Wol._ That's news indeed.
_Crom._ Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, This day was view'd in open, as his queen, 55 Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation.
_Wol._ There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me: all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever. 60 No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the king; 65 That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him What and how true thou art: he will advance thee; Some little memory of me will stir him-- I know his noble nature--not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, 70 Neglect him not; make use now, and provide For thine own future safety.
_Crom._ O my lord, Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 75 With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have my service; but my prayers, For ever and for ever, shall be yours.
_Wol._ Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, 80 Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell: And--when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of--say, I taught thee, 85 Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 90 Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. 95 Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's: then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; 100 And--pr'ythee lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 't is the king's: my robe, And my integrity to Heaven, is all I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! 105 Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, He would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
_Crom._ Good sir, have patience.
_Wol._ So I have. Farewell 110 The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.
--_Shakespeare_
Compare the last words of Wolsey with those of Socrates as found in Jowett's translation of _The Apology_, (p. 145.)
BE JUST ... MARTYR. Show that the life and death of Socrates illustrates this ideal.
Compare the Pitch in which Wolsey utters his monologue with that in which he addresses Cromwell. (Introduction, p. 23.)
How is the parenthetical clause in ll. 6 and 7 kept in the back-ground? (Introduction, p. 24.) Select similar examples from Wolsey's speeches.
AND FROM THESE SHOULDERS ... NAVY. Supply the ellipses.
BY THAT SIN ... WIN BY 'T? Select the emphatic words and account for the Emphasis in each case. (Introduction, p. 30.)
* * * * *
THE ITALIAN IN ENGLAND
That second time they hunted me From hill to plain, from shore to sea, And Austria, hounding far and wide Her blood-hounds thro' the country-side, Breathed hot and instant on my trace.-- 5 I made, six days, a hiding-place Of that dry green old aqueduct Where I and Charles, when boys, have plucked The fireflies from the roof above, Bright creeping thro' the moss they love: 10 --How long it seems since Charles was lost! Six days the soldiers crossed and crossed The country in my very sight; And when that peril ceased at night, The sky broke out in red dismay 15 With signal-fires. Well, there I lay Close covered o'er in my recess, Up to the neck in ferns and cress, Thinking on Metternich our friend, And Charles's miserable end, 20 And much beside, two days; the third, Hunger o'ercame me when I heard The peasants from the village go To work among the maize: you know, With us in Lombardy, they bring 25 Provisions packed on mules, a string With little bells that cheer their task, And casks, and boughs on every cask To keep the sun's heat from the wine; These I let pass in jingling line, 30 And, close on them, dear noisy crew, The peasants from the village, too; For at the very rear would troop Their wives and sisters in a group To help, I knew. When these had passed, 35 I threw my glove to strike the last, Taking the chance: she did not start, Much less cry out, but stooped apart, One instant rapidly glanced round, And saw me beckon from the ground; 40 A wild bush grows and hides my crypt, She picked my glove up while she stripped A branch off, then rejoined the rest With that; my glove lay in her breast: Then I drew breath; they disappeared: 45 It was for Italy I feared.
An hour, and she returned alone Exactly where my glove was thrown. Meanwhile came many thoughts; on me Rested the hopes of Italy; 50 I had devised a certain tale Which, when 't was told her, could not fail Persuade a peasant of its truth; I meant to call a freak of youth This hiding, and give hopes of pay, 55 And no temptation to betray. But when I saw that woman's face, It's calm simplicity of grace, Our Italy's own attitude In which she walked thus far, and stood, 60 Planting each naked foot so firm, To crush the snake and spare the worm-- At first sight of her eyes, I said, "I am that man upon whose head They fix the price, because I hate 65 The Austrians over us; the State Will give you gold--oh, gold so much!-- If you betray me to their clutch, And be your death, for aught I know, If once they find you saved their foe. 70 Now, you must bring me food and drink, And also paper, pen and ink, And carry safe what I shall write To Padua, which you'll reach at night Before the duomo shuts; go in, 75 And wait till Tenebrae begin; Walk to the third confessional, Between the pillar and the wall, And kneeling whisper, _Whence comes peace?_ Say it a second time, then cease; 80 And if the voice inside returns, _From Christ and Freedom; what concerns The cause of Peace?_--for answer, slip My letter where you placed your lip; Then come back happy we have done 85 Our mother service--I, the son, As you the daughter of our land!"
Three mornings more, she took her stand In the same place, with the same eyes: I was no surer of sunrise 90 Than of her coming: we conferred Of her own prospects, and I heard She had a lover--stout and tall, She said--then let her eyelids fall, "He could do much"--as if some doubt 95 Entered her heart,--then, passing out, "She could not speak for others, who Had other thoughts; herself she knew": And so she brought me drink and food. After four days, the scouts pursued 100 Another path; at last arrived The help my Paduan friends contrived To furnish me: she brought the news. For the first time I could not choose But kiss her hand, and lay my own 105 Upon her head--"This faith was shown To Italy, our mother; she Uses my hand and blesses thee." She followed down to the sea-shore; I left and never saw her more. 110
How very long since I have thought Concerning--much less wished for--aught Beside the good of Italy, For which I live and mean to die! I never was in love; and since 115 Charles proved false, what shall now convince My inmost heart I have a friend? However, if I pleased to spend Real wishes on myself--say, three-- I know at least what one should be. 120 I would grasp Metternich until I felt his red wet throat distil In blood thro' these two hands. And next, --Nor much for that am I perplexed-- Charles, perjured traitor, for his part, 125 Should die slow of a broken heart Under his new employers. Last, --Ah, there, what should I wish? For fast Do I grow old and out of strength. If I resolved to seek at length 130 My father's house again, how scared They all would look, and unprepared! My brothers live in Austria's pay --Disowned me long ago, men say; And all my early mates who used 135 To praise me so--perhaps induced More than one early step of mine-- Are turning wise: while some opine "Freedom grows license", some suspect "Haste breeds delay", and recollect 140 They always said, such premature Beginnings never could endure! So, with a sullen "All's for best", The land seems settling to its rest. I think then, I should wish to stand 145 This evening in that dear, lost land, Over the sea the thousand miles, And know if yet that woman smiles With the calm smile; some little farm She lives in there, no doubt: what harm 150 If I sat on the door-side bench, And, while her spindle made a trench Fantastically in the dust, Inquired of all her fortunes--just Her children's ages and their names, 155 And what may be the husband's aims For each of them. I'd talk this out, And sit there, for an hour about, Then kiss her hand once more, and lay Mine on her head, and go my way. 160
So much for idle wishing--how It steals the time! To business now.
--_Robert Browning (By permission)_
PREPARATORY.--What is the historical back-ground of this poem? Suggest the possible details of the exiled patriot's life in England, his surroundings and frame of mind at the moment of speaking.
Reconstruct for yourself the three scenes of which the peasant woman is the centre.
What qualities did the Italian at once recognize in the peasant woman which led him to intrust his safety to her?
79. WHENCE COMES PEACE? In what Quality of voice is this read? Give your reason. (Introduction, p. 34.)
95. HE COULD DO MUCH. How is the doubt in this speech and in the one following indicated by the Inflection? (Introduction, p. 18.)
111-112. With what is THOUGHT CONCERNING connected? How?
120-123. I KNOW AT LEAST ... HANDS. What Quality of voice expresses the feeling here? What succeeding lines have the same Quality? (Introduction, p. 35.) With what is NEXT connected? How?
139-142. FREEDOM GROWS LICENSE ... ENDURE. How is the irony of these lines indicated? (Introduction, pp. 21 and 30.)
How does the mood of the last two lines differ from the preceding? What is the difference in vocal expression?
* * * * *
ADVANTAGES OF IMPERIAL FEDERATION
From an address delivered in Toronto, January 30th, 1891, under the auspices of the Imperial Federation League
I now go on to mention another and greater advantage of Imperial Federation than the one which we have just been considering; an advantage too that is so connected with that of improved trade that the two must be considered together. In fact, in my opinion, the first is not likely to be obtained without the second. We cannot expect Britain to concede preferential trade to us, on the ground that we are part of the Empire, unless we are willing to share the responsibilities of the Empire. I say then, secondly, that only by some form of Imperial Federation can the independence of Canada be preserved, with due regard to self-respect.
If this is true, if Imperial Federation can do this, and if it can be done in no other way, then the necessity for Imperial Federation is proved; for national independence is an advantage so great that no price can be named that is too great to give in payment. It is the same with a country as with a man. Independent he must be, or he ceases to be a man. Burns advises his young friend to "gather gear" in every honourable way, and what for?
Not for to hoard it in a dyke, Not for a train attendant; But for the glorious privilege Of being independent.
And that which is the supreme dignity of manhood is even more essential in the case of a nation.
What do we mean when we speak of the independence of the country? We mean something beyond price, something that is the indispensable condition of true manhood in any country, something without which a country is poor in the present and a butt for the world's scorn in the future. There are men, or things that look like men, who say that as long as we put money in our purse, nothing else counts. How that class of men must have laughed some centuries ago at a fool called William Wallace! How clearly they could point out that it was much better to be part of the richer country to the south. When they heard of the fate of the patriot, did they not serenely say: "We told you so?" Did they not in their hearts envy the false Menteath the price he got for betraying the man who acted as true sentiment bade? But, give it time, and the judgment of the world is just. Even the blind can now see whether the patriot or the so-called "practical man" did most for Scotland's advantage. Now
At Wallace' name, what Scottish blood But boils up in a springtime flood! Oft have our fearless fathers strode By Wallace' side, Still pressing onward, red-wat shod, Or glorious died.
What has his memory been worth to Scotland! Would you estimate it in millions? Superior persons will tell me that Wallace is an anachronism. In form, yes; in spirit, never. It may be said that in the end Scotland did unite with England. Yes, but first, what a curse the union would have been if unaccompanied, as in the case of Ireland, with national self-respect! And, secondly, Canada is ready for union with the States any day on the same terms as those which Scotland got: (1) That the States accept our Queen or King as their head. (2) That we keep our own civil and criminal law and parliamentary constitution, as Scotland did. (3) That the whole Empire be included in the arrangement, as the whole of Scotland was in the union. Surely the men who are never tired of citing the case of Scotland and England as parallel to ours must admit that this is fair.
But, here comes a question that must be faced. Is it worth while preserving the independence, the unity, and dignity of Canada? There are men who, for one reason or another, doubt whether it is. They have lost faith in the country, or rather they never had any faith to lose. It is this absence of faith that is at the bottom of all their arguments and all their unrest. Now, I do not wonder that there should be men who do not share our faith. Men who were brought up in England, and who have seen and tasted the best of it; who are proud of that "dear, dear land", as Shakespeare called it, proud of its history, its roll of saints, statesmen, heroes; of its cathedrals, colleges, castles; of its present might as well as its ancient renown; and who have then come to live in Canada,--well, they naturally look with amused contempt at our raw, rough ways, our homespun legislators and log colleges, combined with lofty ambitions expressed sometimes--it must be admitted--in bunkum. I do not wonder, either, that men who have been citizens of the United States, who exult in its vast population, its vast wealth, and its boundless energy, should think it madness on our part that we are not knocking untiringly at their door for admission, and that the only explanation of our attitude that they can give is that we are "swelled heads", or "the rank and file of jingoism." But, after all, they must know that this question is not to be settled by them. It must be settled by genuine Canadians. We, like Cartier, are Canadians _avant tout_. Most of us have been born in the land, have buried our fathers and mothers, and some of us our children, too, in the natal soil, and above the sacred dust we have pledged ourselves to be true to their memories and to the country they loved, and to those principles of honour that are eternal! God helping, we will do so, whether strangers help or hinder! We do not think so meanly of our country that we are willing to sell it for a mess of pottage. I know Canada well, from ocean to ocean; from the rich sea pastures on the Atlantic all the way across to Vancouver and Victoria. Every province and every territory of it, I know well. I know the people, too, a people thoroughly democratic and honest to the core. I would now plainly warn those who think that there is no such thing as Canadian sentiment that they are completely mistaken. They had better not reckon without their host. The silent vote is that which tells, and though it will not talk, it will vote solid all the time for those who represent national sentiment when the national life is threatened. I am not a party man. In my day, I have voted about evenly on both sides, for when I do vote, it is after consideration of the actual issues involved at the time. Both sides therefore rightly consider me unreliable, but, perhaps, both will listen when I point out that the independent vote is increasing, and that it is the only vote worth cultivating. The true Grit or Tory will vote with his party, right or wrong. No time, therefore, need be given to him. Let the wise candidate win the men who believe that the country is higher than party, and there is, I think, only one thing that these men will not forgive--lack of faith in the country. They have no doubt that it is worth while to preserve the unity, dignity, and independence of Canada.
We are quite sure of this. Are we as sure that it is our duty to pay the price? The United States are paying three or four times our whole revenue in pensions to those who fought to keep the country united. They do not grudge this enormous price. They have besides a respectable army, and a fleet that will soon be formidable. What means do we find it necessary to use? In any trouble we simply call on the Mother Country. The present system is cheap. No! it is dear and nasty, and cannot last.
What should we do? First, let us remember what Britain has dared for us within the last two or three years. Britain would fight the rest of the world rather than the United States,--not because the Republic could hurt her seriously, not because her trade with it is five times as much as with us, but because she is proud of her own eldest child and knows that a war between mother and daughter would be a blow struck at the world's heart. Yet, for us she spoke the decisive word from which there was no drawing back. For us, once and again, because we were in the right, she dared a risk which she hated with her whole soul.
Let us show that we appreciate her attitude. Let us, at any rate, do what Australia has done--enter into a treaty, according to which we shall pay so much a year for a certain number of ships, to be on our own coasts in peace, and in war at the disposal of the Empire. That would be tantamount to saying: "You have shared our risks, we will share yours; we will pay part of the insurance that is necessary to guarantee peace; we are educating officers for the army, and we are willing to give a much needed addition to the fleet". That would be a first step toward the attainment of full citizenship. What would be the next? We could ask that our voice should be heard in some constitutional way before any war was decided on. And we would have the right standing ground from which to urge a wise system of preferential trade in the common interest. These three things are, in my opinion, connected, and I have ventured to indicate the order in which they should be taken.
Would it pay? The experience of the world proves that nothing pays in the long run but duty-doing. How can a country grow great men if it is content to be in leading-strings, and to give plausible excuses to show that that state of things is quite satisfactory?
Only by some form of Imperial Federation can the unity of the Empire be preserved.
The previous advantages to which I referred concerned Canada directly. This one may appear, to some persons, far away from us, but it is not. In another speech I may enlarge on this advantage, but suffice it to say now, that we cannot isolate ourselves from humanity. Canada ought to be dearer to us than any other part of the Empire, but none the less we must admit that the Empire is more important to the world than any of its parts, and every true man is a citizen of the world.
I will not speak to-night of what the Empire has done for us in the past, of the rich inheritance into which we have entered, and of the shame that falls on children who value lightly the honour of their family and race. Consider only the present position of affairs. The European nations are busy watching each other. Britain is detaching herself from them, understanding that she is an oceanic, colonizing, and world power, much more than a European state. The United States and Britain are the two Powers, one in essence, cradled in freedom, that have a great future before them. According to the last census, the first has a population of some fifty-four millions of whites. The census of next April will show that the other has nearly forty millions in the home islands and ten millions in the self-governing Colonies. The two Powers have thus about the same population of white men, and the two are likely to grow at the same rate.
In Britain the rate of increase will be less, but in the Colonies it will be greater than in the States during the next half century. The States will keep united. They have stamped out disunion. We have to prove that we intend to keep the Empire united; but that can be done only by giving the ten millions a gradually increasing share in common privileges and responsibilities. Surely such a work is not beyond the resources of statesmanship. For a long time decentralization was needed. Now, all the signs of the times indicate the necessity to centralize. The days of small powers are over, and modern inventions make communication easy between east and west, as well as between north and south.
If this is not done, what will certainly happen? Separation, first of one part then of another; weakness of each part and weakness all round. Think of the impetus that this would give to every force that makes for chaos among the three hundred millions over whom God in His providence has placed us. The work that the British Empire has in hand is far grander than the comparatively parochial duties with which the States are content to deal. Its problems are wider and more inspiring; yet, at the same time, the white race that alone, so far, has proved itself fit for self-government, lives by itself, instead of being commingled with a coloured race to which only nominal freedom is allowed. Any one who has lived either in South Africa or in the Southern States will understand what a free hand and what an unspeakable leverage this gives us. We need no Force Bill to ensure a free ballot in Britain, Canada, Australia, or New Zealand. Already our sons are taking their part in introducing civilization into Africa, under the aegis of the flag, and in preserving the _Pax Britannica_ among the teeming millions of India and southeastern Asia, those peoples kindred to ourselves, who for centuries before had been the prey of successive spoilers. Think of the horizon that this opens up, and remember that in building a state we must think not of the present but of the future.
In a generation all the best land on this continent will have been taken up. But, thanks to the far-reaching wisdom of our fathers, the greater part of the world will be open to the trade, to the colonizing, and to the enterprise of our children. We shall not be confined to a frozen north or to a single continent. We shall take part in work that is of world-wide significance, and shall act out our belief that God loves not North America only, but the whole world. Only on conditions of the British Empire standing, can this be done. This is the ideal that we should set before us, and remember that no people has ever been a great or permanent factor in the world that was without high ideals. I know that this advantage to which I am referring is not one that can be calculated in dollars, any more than the work of a Wallace or the poems of a Shakespeare, the life of Sydney or the death of Gordon; but it is an advantage none the less for which many of us are content to struggle and, if need be, to suffer. What are we in this world for? Surely for something higher than to still the daily craving of appetite. Surely for something higher than to accumulate money, though it should be to the extent of adding million to million. Surely we are in the world for something better! Yes, we are here to think great thoughts, to do great things, to promote great ideals. This can be done only through faithfulness to the best spirit of our fathers. Society is an organism, and must preserve its continuity. It must work, too, through instruments; and the most potent, keenest, best-tried instrument on earth for preserving peace, order, liberty and righteousness, is the Empire of which we are citizens. Shall we throw away that citizenship, or shall we maintain and strengthen that Empire?
--_George Monro Grant (By permission)_
Apply the principles of Emphasis, Inflection, Grouping, and Perspective in reading this address. Give specific illustrations of each.
* * * * *
COLLECT FOR DOMINION DAY
Father of nations! Help of the feeble hand! Strength of the strong! to whom the nations kneel! Stay and destroyer, at whose just command Earth's kingdoms tremble and her empires reel! Who dost the low uplift, the small make great, 5 And dost abase the ignorantly proud, Of our scant people mould a mighty state, To the strong, stern,--to Thee in meekness bowed! Father of unity, make this people one! Weld, interfuse them in the patriot's flame,-- 10 Whose forging on Thine anvil was begun In blood late shed to purge the common shame; That so our hearts, the fever of faction done, Banish old feud in our young nation's name.
--_Charles G. D. Roberts_ (_By arrangement_)
* * * * *
ENGLAND
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress, built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea.
* * * * *
APPENDIX
A
EXERCISES IN VOWEL SOUNDS AND IN ARTICULATION
1. [=a] as in ate, fate, cave, made, glade, pale.
â as in air, fair, chair, hair, lair, pair, care, dare, bare, share, bear, fairy, compare, parent, prayer, garish, there, heir.
[)a] as in at, that, and, damp, glad, bade, castle, baron, barrel.
ä as in far, arm, hark, charm, march, bard, calm, palm, psalm, balm, half, alms, father, dark, wrath, path, marsh, laugh.
[.a] as in ask, grasp, fast, last, pass, past, branch, chance, dance, mast, vast, gasp, quaff, craft, staff, chant, grass, mass.
[a:] as in all, talk, squall, dawn, warp, hawk, laurel, haughty, halt.
a obscure, in final medial syllables, unaccented, and closed by n, l, nt, nce, nd, s, ss, st, p or ph or ff, m, or d, as in sylvan, vacancy, mortal, loyal, valiant, guidance, husband, breakfast, gallant, ballad, etc.
[=e] as in me, seem, reap, weed, lean, evil, redeem.
[)e] as in met, end, spell, debt, text, jest, when, merry, America, ceremony.
[~e] (coalescent) as in her, fern, earth, mercy, verse, stern, earl, pearl, term, verge, prefer, serge, earn, early.
[=i] as in time, tide, mile, wine, high, size.
[)i] as in pin, grim, king, gift, this, grip.
[=i] (coalescent) as in bird, girl, fir, stir, girdle, circle, virgin, first.
[=o] as in note, old, spoke, pole, wrote, joke.
[)o] as in not, shot, top, odd, honest, comic, on, gone, off, often, dog, (not "dawg"), God, soft, long, song, strong, coral, orange, foreign, torrid, coronet, corridor, correlate.
ô as in corn, lord, stork, orb, form, forlorn, morn, short, adorn.
o as in word, work, worm, worry.
[.o] as in love, done, some, cover, brother, another, month, company, Monday, front, covet, wonder, sponge, smother.
ö as in do, move, who, whose, lose, prove, too, bosom.
[=u] as in use, pure, duke, tune, tube, blue, duty, flew, new, student, subdue, pursue, absolute, illumine, tumult, suit, during, pursuit, presume, lunacy, Tuesday, numeral.
[)u] as in us, up, but, drum, dusk, trust.
[u:] as in rude, brute, fruit, sure, true, construe, recruit.
[u.] as in full, pull, put, push, cushion, bushel, pulpit, bullet.
û as in hurt, burr, cur, fur, furl, burst, purr, recur, curfew, furlong, surge, urn.
Note that ä in far and [.a] in ask are called long Italian _a_ and short Italian _a_ respectively. The quality of the sound is the same in each, but they differ in quantity, the latter being shorter.
The following vowels have the same sound:
[~e] (coalescent) and [~i] (coalescent);
ö as in do, [u:] as in rude, and [oo=] as in food;
o as in word and û as in hurt;
[.o] as in love and û as in us.
After marking the vowels diacritically read the following passages, paying special attention to the vowel sounds:
So Lord Howard passed away with five ships of war that day.
That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel.
The guide, abating of his pace, Led slowly through the pass's jaws, And asked Fitz-James by what strange cause He sought these wilds, traversed by few Without a pass from Roderick Dhu.
The hand cannot clasp the whole of his alms, The heart outstretches its eager palms.
O listen, ladies, ladies gay! No haughty feat of arms I tell; Soft is the note, and sad the lay That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
And when the Angel met him on his way, And half in earnest, half in jest, would say, Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel, "Art thou the King?" the passion of his woe Burst from him in resistless overflow, And, lifting high his forehead, he would fling The haughty answer back, "I am, I am the King!"
Then rest thee here till dawn of day; Myself will guide thee on the way, O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard, 'As far as Coilantogle's ford; From thence thy warrant is thy sword.
Around the keel that raced the dolphin and the shark Only the sand-wren twitters from barren dawn till dark; And all the long blank noon the blank sand chafes and mars The prow once swift to follow the lure of the dancing stars.
2. Distinguish the sound of _[=u]_ in use, pure, duke, etc.,
from the sound of _oo_ in food, hoof, mood, rood, roof, soot, aloof, and from the sound of _oo_ in book, good, nook, hood, rook, look, foot, crook.
Read the following with special reference to these sounds:
Flew flashing under the blinding blue.
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot.
Singing the bridal of sap and shoot, The tree's slow life between root and fruit.
... helter-skelter through the blue Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue.
While on dreary moorlands lonely curlew pipe.
My Lords, you have that true image of the primitive Church in its ancient form, in its ancient ordinances, purified from the superstitions and vices which a long succession of ages will bring upon the best institutions.
3. Double and triple consonant endings present difficulties of articulation:--Robbed, bragged, divulged, mends, breathed, gossips, casques, barracks, depths, heights, lengths, breadths, lists, aspects, seethes, thirsteth, breathest, sheath'st, melt'st, search'st, sixths, twelfths, tests.
Read with special reference to the articulation of the final consonants:
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
Scattering down the snow-flakes off the curdled sky.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked.
The guests are met, the feast is set May'st hear the merry din.
Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's.
Spirit that breathest through my lattice, Thou that cool'st the twilight of the sultry day.
He groped toward the door, but it was locked, He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked, And uttered awful threatenings and complaints, And imprecations upon men and saints.
It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from caverned Hawthornden.
Skilful artists thou employest, And in chastest beauty joyest, Forms most delicate, pure, and clear, Frost-caught star-beams, fallen sheer In the night, and woven here In jewel-fretted tapestries.
4. Sound distinctly the ending _ing_ in: Languishing, blackening, threatening, rushing, ascending, flashing, throbbing.
Roughening their crests and scattering high their spray, And swelling the white sail.
Blazing with light and breathing with perfume.
. . . . a revolting shape Shivering and chattering sat the wretched ape. Lakelets' lisping wavelets lapping, Round a flock of wild ducks napping, And the rapturous-noted wooings, And the molten-throated cooings Of the amorous multitudes Flashing through the dusky woods, When a veering wind hath blown A glare of sudden daylight down.
5. Sound final _d_ in "and":
Rest and a guide, and food and fire.
Away from the world, and its toils and its cares.
And the sun went down and the stars came out.
Peace, and order, and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law.
East and west, and south and north The messengers ride fast, And tower, and town, and cottage, Have heard the trumpet's blast.
Blood and fire on the streaming decks, And fire and blood below; The heat of hell, and the reek of hell, And the dead men laid a-row!
6. Articulate distinctly words in which the same or similar sounds immediately succeed each other:
Spanish ships of war at sea.
At Flores, in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay.
Come Roderick Dhu, And of his clan the boldest two.
Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare.
Cast off earth's sorrows and know what I know,
When into the glad deep woods I go.
The silver vessels sparkle clean.
From the sails the dew did drip.
The sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Thousands of their seamen looked down from their decks and laughed.
7. Sound the letter _h_ in what, while, where, when, which, whether, white, whiten, whine, whist, etc.
8. Avoid the sound of _u_ in:
for, from, was, because, when, what, etc.
for coalescent _e_ in: her, earn, verse, mercy, verge, serge, prefer, ermine, etc.
for _[)e]_ in: enemy, events, poem, etc.
for _[)i]_ in: spirit, family, credible, visible, charity, unity, sanity, humanity, ruin, promise, divide, divisible, dissolve, languid, negative, similar, abominable, imitate, inimitable, purity, native, etc.
for _i_ (coalescent) in: sir, bird, girl, first, virgin, etc.
Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; all is vanity.
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
A wind from the lands they had ruin'd.
Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other?
Alas! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun! Oh! it was pitiful! Near a whole city full Home she had none.
9. Avoid the sound of _ch_ for _t_ in: fortune, fortunate, future, futurity, nature, natural, picture, feature, etc.
King Robert's self in features, form and height.
For this man so vile and bent of stature Rasped harshly against his dainty nature.
One more unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate Gone to her death.
B
PHYSICAL EXERCISES
(_These exercises form a course by themselves and should not be introduced into the regular reading lesson._)
BREATHING.--The proper management of the breath is of the greatest importance in speaking and reading. Inhalation and exhalation should be gradual and natural, not spasmodic. The reader should never allow his supply of breath to be wholly exhausted, but should replenish it at regular intervals. Inhalation should be through the nostrils, not the mouth. This prevents gasping, and promotes and preserves a healthy condition of the vocal organs. It is not necessary to keep the mouth closed in order that the breath be inhaled through the nostrils. Inhalation may be effected when the mouth is open by allowing the tip of the tongue to touch the upper palate. All breathing exercises should be deep, commencing with the abdomen, and should expand the chest to the fullest capacity.
_Exercise I._ Stand erect in a well ventilated room. Inhale slowly from the abdomen while counting five, hold the breath while counting five, and exhale while counting five.
Repeat this exercise, gradually increasing the count by one until the maximum of ten or fifteen is reached.
_Exercise II._ Practise the preceding exercise in the open air while walking, taking five steps while inhaling, holding the breath, and exhaling respectively. The count may be increased as in the preceding.
_Exercise III._ Stand erect, arms akimbo, fingers pressing the abdominal muscles in front, thumbs on the dorsal muscles on each side of the spine. Rise slowly on the toes while inhaling, hold the breath while standing on tiptoe, and exhale while gradually resuming the original position. In each case regulate the count as in the preceding exercises.
_Exercise IV._ Stand erect, arms hanging loosely at the sides. Inhale slowly, rising on the toes, clenching the fists with gradually increased intensity, and raising them to the arm-pits. Expel the breath suddenly, dropping back to the original position.
CHEST AND LUNGS.--Gymnastic exercises, such as develop the chest and lungs, are of great importance, since they regulate the breathing capacity.
_Exercise I._ Stand erect, arms hanging loosely at the sides. Raise the arms slowly to the vertical position over the head, making the hands meet with palms outward, the thumb of the left hand over the right, rising on the toes at the same time; then let the arms fall apart slowly to their original position, while coming down on the heels.
_Exercise II._ Stand erect as in the preceding. Bring the arms slowly forward until the hands meet on a level with the mouth, bending forward slightly and rising on the toes; then throw back the arms in a circular movement, allowing them to fall to their original position, coming down on the heels at the same time.
_Exercise III._ Raise the hands above the head; bring down the elbows to the sides; shoot out the hands in front; bring in the elbows to the sides; shoot down the hands toward the floor; firing up the elbows to the sides. Repeat. This exercise may be practised with hands clenched.
THROAT AND NECK.--Exercises of the throat and neck develop and keep flexible the vocal cords, which are of prime importance in producing pure tones.
_Exercise I._ Stand erect. Look at the ceiling; allow the head to drop backward as far as possible; then bring the head slowly forward until the chin rests on the chest. Repeat.
_Exercise II._ Stand erect. Twist the head slowly to the left, without moving the shoulders, until the chin is parallel to the left shoulder; then slowly twist the head to the right, without moving the shoulders, until the chin is parallel to the right shoulder. Repeat.
_Exercise III._ Press the head to the left until the left ear rests almost on the left shoulder, raising the right arm above the head at the same time. Practise this exercise, pressing the head to the right and raising the left arm. Repeat.
MOUTH.--To produce the finest tones of the voice, three conditions of the mouth are necessary:
(1) The mouth must be well opened. (2) The vocal aperture must be large. (3) The jaws must be flexible.
If the mouth is well opened the tones are full; if partially closed they are muffled. The vocal aperture is the opening in the rear of the mouth produced by the elevation of the uvula, and the depression of the root of the tongue and the larynx. The purity and richness of the voice depend, to a great extent, upon the capacity of the vocal aperture. If it is of small capacity, or contracted, the tones are impure and nasal.
The mode of producing pure tones can be studied best before a mirror placed so that the light falls upon the back part of the mouth.
_Exercise I._ Open the mouth to the fullest extent and close rapidly. Repeat.
_Exercise II._ Open the mouth to the fullest extent, so that the uvula rises and almost disappears, and the root of the tongue and larynx are depressed. The action is similar to yawning, and to accomplish it "think a yawn", if necessary.
C
LIST OF REFERENCE BOOKS.
How to Teach Reading in the Public Schools. S. H. Clark. (Scott, Foresman & Co.)
The Voice and Spiritual Education. Hiram Corson. (Macmillan & Co.)
The Aims of Literary Study. Hiram Corson. (Macmillan & Co.)
Practical Elocution. Fulton and Trueblood. (Ginn & Co.)
Elementary Phonetics. A.W. Burt. (The Copp, Clark Co., Limited.)
Enunciation and Articulation. Ella M. Boyce. (Ginn & Co.)
Clear Speaking and Good Reading. Arthur Burrell. (Longmans, Green & Co.)
Reading as a Fine Art. Ernest Legouvé. (Penn Publishing Co., Philadelphia.)
Lessons in Vocal Expression. S. S. Curry. (The Expression Co., Boston.)
End of Project Gutenberg's The Ontario High School Reader, by A.E. Marty