Chapter XII: Part IV (1)

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 Caesar" 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 Caesar, 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 Caesar'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 Caesar'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 fete champetre 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-a-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.)