was not required to construe them sentence by sentence, but to read them aloud to my father, answering questions when asked; but the particular attention which he paid to Elocution (in which his own excellence was remarkable) made this reading aloud to him a most painful task. Of all things which he required me to do, there was none which I did so constantly ill, or in which he so perpetually lost his temper with me. He had thought much on the principles of the art of reading, especially the most neglected parts of it, the inflections and modulations of the voice, as writers on Elocution call them (in contrast with articulation on the one side, and expression on the other), and had reduced it to rules, grounded on the logical analysis of a sentence. These rules he strongly impressed upon me, and took me severely to task for every violation of them; but I even then remarked (though I did not venture to make the remark to him) that, though he reproached me when I read a sentence ill, he never, by reading it himself, showed me how it ought to be read. A defect running through his otherwise admirable modes of instruction, as it did through all his modes of thought, was that of trusting too much to the intelligibleness of the abstract, when not embodied in the concrete. It was at a much later period of my youth, when practising Elocution by myself, or with companions of my own age, that I, for the first time, understood the object of his rules, and saw the psychological ground of them. At that time, I and others followed out the subject into its ramifications, and could have composed a very useful treatise, grounded on my father's principles. He himself left those principles and rules unwritten. I regret that when my mind was full of the subject, from systematic practice, I did not put them, and our improvements of them, into a formal shape." *

So also the excellent and eloquent Scotch divine, who has so lately passed away from us, Dr. Guthrie, in his autobiography just published, thus expresses his opinion of the importance of the art of Elocution, and the importance he attached to its acquisition :

"I had, when a student in divinity, paid more than ordinary attention to the art of Elocution, knowing how much of the effect produced on the audience depended on the manner as well as the matter; that, in point of fact, the manner is to the matter as the powder is to the ball. I had attended Elocution classes winter after winter, walking across half the city and more, after eight o'clock at night, fair night and foul, and not getting back to my lodgings till about half-past ten. There I learned to find out and correct many acquired and more or less awkward defects in gesture to be, in fact, natural; to acquire a command over my voice sc as to suit its force and emphasis to the sense, and to modulate it so as to express the feelings, whether of surprise or grief, indignation or pity. I had heard very indifferent discourses made forcible by a vigorous, and able ones reduced to feebleness by a poor, pithless delivery. I had read of the extraordinary pains Demosthenes and Cicero took to cultivate their manner and become masters of the arts of Elocution; and I knew how, by a masterly and natural use of these, Whitfield could sway the crowds that gathered to hear him at early morn on the commons of Autobiography of John Stuart Mill, pp. 23, 24.

London as a breeze does the standing corn, making men at his pleasure weep or laugh by the way he pronounced Mesopotamia.' Many have supposed that I owe any power I have of modulating my voice, and giving effect thereby to what I am delivering, to a musical ear. On the contrary, I am, as they say in Scotland, 'timmer tuned '-have not the vestige even of the musical faculty, never knowing when people go off the tune but when they stick!" Again, in a rare and curious old 4to volume in my possession, entitled "Aphorisms and Maxims," by Charles Palmer, Deputy-Sergeant to the House of Commons (1758), I find it stated at p. 15, that "delivery is the very life and soul of all eloquence; and it is of such peculiar importance, that none can neglect it without abandoning its greatest strength and beauty, and that which contributes so largely to its force, and composes most of the graces that belong to it. The art of oratory is never so great and potent by the things that are said, as by the manner of saying them; its leading excellence consists in the delivery, and by this it maintains its empire over the hearts of men."

You will grant, I imagine, that the dramatic art, in its highest forms and embodiments, is one of the fine arts. If it is so, let me strengthen my position by the support given to my argument by that well-known American divine, Dr. Channing. In discussing the drama and dramatic amusements generally, he asks "whether there is not a source of the highest intellectual pleasure, having the closest possible approximation to the drama, viz., recitation or reading aloud? To hear a work of genius (he says) recited or read by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm, and powers of Elocution, is a very high and pure gratification. Were this art only more cultivated and encouraged amongst us, great numbers of persons, now insensible to the most beautiful compositions, might be awakened to their full excellence and power. It is not easy to conceive a more effectual way of spreading a refined taste through a community. Should this only be established among us successfully, the result would be that the power of recitation would be more extensively called forth, and this would be a most valuable addition to our social and domestic pleasures."

I might quote many other authorities, English as well as American, but on this point I will content myself with but one more, a name of high and well-deserved reputation, Professor John Hullah, of this College. Mr. Hullah has recently published a most able little work "On the Cultivation of the Speaking Voice," which I would strongly recommend to any one who wishes to see how closely allied to the music of speech is the music of song. Indeed, it would be difficult to draw the exact line of demarcation-if, indeed, there is one at all— between the music of Elocution, as shown in the pure vocal tone, the widely ranging and proper inflections and modulations of the voice in the recitation of some grand or beautiful poem, and the music of song, as shown in the powerful and expressive recitative of a Santley or Sims Reeves in an oratorio by Handel or Haydn. It would be almost impossible, I think, to say where the music of the one art ends and that of the other begins. All the terms that are used in music are, in general,

applicable to Elocution. Piano and forte, with their various degrees; crescendo and diminuendo, legato, sostenuto, and staccato; time, andante and allegro, and their modifications; the marks of emphasis, expression, and à piacere or ad libitum—all these are terms of art which may be applied as fitly to Elocution as to song. But can we go beyond this? Can the music of speech be noted, its inflections in the range which the voice takes rising or falling in the musical scale be duly marked, the duration of the vowel in the syllables of words or in monosyllabic words rightly indicated; can all this be done by external signs or technical marks of indication? It can. But to go further than this, can the music of speech, as shown in Elocution, be divided into bars-regular and systematic bars-upon fixed and definite principles, as in the music of song? It can, and here is the proof. There lies before me on this table a book more than a century old, of which I apprehend the majority in this room have never seen the name or heard of the author. It is entitled "Prosodia Rationalis," and the author is Joshua Steele. It is an old book, a rare book, and a very learned book. As I open it and show these pages to you, I imagine that any one on bestowing a mere cursory glance at them would think I was showing him the score of some song composed a hundred years ago. It is, indeed, a grand and solemn theme to which these notes are set; and how I wish I could but hear them once more rendered by the great artist, whose recital of them thrilled all hearts at our great National Theatre in 1772; for this is Hamlet's famous soliloquy on death and immortality, as rendered (with some slight variations suggested by the author of the work) by that greatest of actors of the last century, David Garrick. Here you have all the technical signs which indicate quantity, inflections, and modulation; the poise which marks the bars, &c.; the very interpretation of the great tragedian, noted from actual observation by Mr. Steele, handed down to us, and rendered capable of being perpetuated for the instruction of future generations. Time warns me that I must not dwell further on this portion of my argument. To those who wish to make fuller investigation into the subject, I would name particularly, in addition to the authors to whom I have already referred, the great American work written, "On the Voice," by the celebrated physician, Dr. Rush; the Abbé Thibout's work, entitled "Action Oratoire ;" and the treatise by the late John Thelwall "On English Rhythmus," based avowedly on Joshua Steele's system, as developed in his "Prosodia Rationalis."

But now in this place arises the question-Is there need for any such instruction in Elocution? Do we really want it at the present time? Let me, as an answer, give you a passage which you will find in a charming volume of short essays published in 1875, by that original thinker and accomplished writer the late Sir Arthur Helps, under the title of "Brevia":

"How few men can talk distinctly and clearly! With how many persons, especially the young of this generation, is their talk a something which combines a lisp, a mutter, a mumble, and a moan! How many times in the course of a conversation amongst English people do you not hear the question, 'What did you say?' Then, as to the reading

I put it to this intelligent company. Do you know amongst your numerous friends and acquaintances ten persons who can read aloud really well? You are silent. Then, as to public speaking-how few have attained to any proficiency in this art, which, however, is not a very difficult art. It is a thousand pities there are not more proficients

in this art; for if there were, it would not have so exorbitant a value put upon it, and men who are proficient in it would not occupy so great a position in the State as they do now. The man who can do a thing well is, unfortunately, often now the last man who can speak about it in public well, or even talk about it well.”—Brevia, p. 145.

Sir Arthur Helps laments in these strong terms the prevalence of inaudible, indistinct, and expressionless reading and speaking. But can we wonder at it when, as a part of our regular education, it is so wholly neglected. I am aware that during the last ten years the Elocution of the English language has been much more made a subject of study and practice at private schools of repute, for both sexes, than was formerly the case. But still, at the present moment, there is no regular professorship founded or endowed for giving instruction in the art at either of our great universities; and (as far as I can speak from my own experience) the only public educational institutions, where lectures or courses of instruction have been given in the art of reading and speaking our native tongue properly and effectively, are this College, University College, Wellington College, the City of London College, the Royal Naval School, the Polytechnic, the Birkbeck, and the Quebec Institutions. As far as I know, there is nothing of the kind at the present moment at Eton, at Harrow, at Rugby, at Winchester, at Westminster, St. Paul's, the Charterhouse, or Christ's Hospital. If I am wrong in this statement, most gladly shall I receive the information that I am mistaken. Now, then, what are the results of this neglect? I put the question, but, as before, I would prefer that the answer should be given by another rather than myself. Let it come, then, from the Rev. Francis Trench, who, in a lecture delivered by him in London some time ago on "Good and Bad Reading in Church, School, and Home," says :

"I must confess I can recall nothing worse than ordinary school reading and recitation (mark, I say ordinary, because I am well aware that there are some exceptions), whether in the institutions for the rich or for the poor in our land. Many amongst us can remember very well the method in which we ourselves said our scholastic lessons in our former days. Whether any improvement in this method has of late taken place, I am unable to say. I trust that it may be so; but at the public school where I myself was, and one, too, not inferior in repute to any in the land-I mean Harrow-the utmost attainable speed in recitation was allowed, a false key and monotonous delivery of the worst kind was never corrected or rebuked, no attempt whatever was made to render or to keep the utterance in harmony with the sense; and bad habits of delivery were formed and allowed, in a manner almost too strange for belief, and on which I can only now look back with exceeding surprise. Nor do I conceive that the system was in the least better at other schools. I cannot let them escape. For should the Etonian, the

Winchester, Rugby, or Westminster man, or the representative of any other public school, ask me what grounds I have for such a statement, my answer to the challenge would be, that at college I had full means and opportunity to judge from the reading of the students there. They were gathered from all schools of distinction; and to any one hearing them, it was evident enough that the general delivery at other schools was by no means superior to that which was allowed and which prevailed at my own. A system, this, not only most objectionable and most injurious at the time, even to a just impression of the sense of the passage read, but also so lasting in its evil consequences, that many never are emancipated or escape from them. I say this advisedly; and even those who do escape, often only escape after many years, and with no little difficulty. Hence, I believe, originates much of the bad reading which we hear in public worship. Hence, I believe, originates that monotonous cadence and drawl, which is so adverse to the due expression by the reader, and to the due comprehension by the hearer, of any passage read. The ear may be lulled, but the mind is not reached; at least, if reached, it is reached in spite of the reader's bad tone and enunciation. And here I quote the words of one who felt this evil very deeply, and laboured very constantly for its removal, or, at least, its mitigation-the Rev. C. Simeon. 'How often,' said he, are the prayers of the Church spoiled, and good sermons rendered uninteresting by bad delivery on the part of ministers !""

Mr. Trench then proceeds to show in detail how the same lamentable neglect of the art of reading aloud prevails equally in private schools, from the highest to the lowest class, and calls attention to the fact that even at the time when he was speaking, so glaring was the evil in our national schools, that a circular letter had been sent from Her Majesty's Board of the Privy Council to the various inspectors of schools, stating that "complaints have been made to their lordships concerning the very small degree of attention which reading (as part of Elocution) receives in elementary schools," and making it imperative to include an exercise on the art of reading in the oral part of the next Christmas examination at the training-schools. Lord George Hamilton, in a speech delivered last October, said: "There was one advantage in connection with a course of scientific training not sufficiently dwelt upon. We might congratulate ourselves that the English was a grand language, and a splendid vehicle for the expression of ideas; but the great majority of us did not speak it in sufficient precision, and the House of Commons, in which he spent a large portion of his time, was not an exception to this rule. Some utterances delivered there, though dignified by the name of speeches, were very slovenly and slatternly performances. There was a very remarkable contrast between the speeches of the young men and the old men, and the advantage was entirely with the preceding generation. Few of them were sufficiently careful in selecting their words, and he who is to be a successful teacher or student of science, must be an accurate worker, and must be precise in the use of his words."*

Even now, as we have seen, there is no complaint more general than * Lord G. Hamilton, October 8th, 1879.