a speech made in public, in the tone and manner of an oration, uniting the expression of action to the propriety of pronunciation, in order to give the sentiment its full impression upon the mind. According to the manners and customs of the present age, public harangues are made only, 1. In the pulpit. 2. In the senate, in council, or other public assembly. 3. By public professors. 4. On the theatre.

I. With regard to the declamation of the pulpit, the dignity and sanctity of the place, and the importance of the subject, require the preacher to exert the utmost powers of his voice to produce a pronunciation that is perfectly distinct and harmonious, and that he observe a deportment and action which is expressive and graceful. No man, therefore, who is destitute of a voice, should ascend the pulpit, and there act the part of a pantomime before his audience. The preacher should not, however, roar like a common crier, and rend the ear with a voice of thunder; for such kind of declamation is not only without meaning and without persuasion, but highly incongruous with the meek and gentle expressions of the gospel. He should likewise take particular care to avoid a monotony; his voice should rise from the beginning, as it were by degrees, and its greatest strength should be exerted in the application. Each inflection of the voice should be adapted to the phrase, and to the meaning of the words; and each remarkable expression should have its peculiar inflexion. The dogmatic requires a plain, uniform tone of voice only; and the menaces of the gospel demand a greater force than do its promises and rewards; but the latter should not be pronounced in the soft tone of a flute, nor the former with the loud sound of a trumpet. The voice should still retain its natural tone in all its various inflexions. Happy is that preacher, to whom nature has given a voice that is at once strong, flexible, and harmonious.

An air of complacency and benevolence, as well as devotion, should be constantly visible in the countenance of the preacher. But every appearance of affectation must be carefully avoided; for nothing is so disgustful to an audience as even the semblance of dissimulation. Eyes constantly rolling, turned towards heaven, and streaming with tears, rather denote a hypocrite, than a man possessed of the real spirit of religion, and that feels the true import of what he preaches. An air of affected devotion infallibly destroys the efficacy of all that the preacher can say, however just and important it may be. On the other hand, he must avoid every appearance of mirth or raillery, or of that cold unfeeling manner which is so apt to freeze the hearts of his hearers.

The body should be in general erect, and in a natural and easy attitude. The perpetual movement or contortion of the body has a ridiculous effect in the pulpit, and makes the figure of a preacher and a harlequin much too similar. But, on the other hand, he ought not to remain constantly upright and motionless like a speaking statue.

The motions of the hands give a strong expression to a discourse; but they should be constantly decent, grave, noble, and expressive. The preacher who is incessantly in action, who is perpetually clasping his hands, or who menaces with a clenched fist, or counts his arguments on his fingers, will only excite mirth among his auditory. In a word, declamation is an art that the sacred orator should study with the utmost assiduity. The design of a sermon is to convince, to affect, and to persuade. The voice, the countenance, and the action, which are to produce this triple effect, are therefore the objects to which the preacher should particularly apply himself.

II. The declamation of a minister or statesman in the senate, in council, or other public assembly, is of a more unconfined nature. To persuade, to move the passions, and gain an ascendency in a public assembly, the orator should himself feel the force of what he says, and the declamation should only express that internal sensation. But nothing should be carried to excess. A suavity in the tone of voice, a dignity of deportment, a graceful action, and a certain tranquillity of countenance, should constantly accompany the statesman when he speaks in public, even when he is most earnestly engaged in debate, or when he is addressing his sovereign in person. A pleasing tone of voice and a distinct pronunciation, prejudice the hearers greatly in the speaker's favour. A young man may improve these to a surprising degree. Demosthenes, who had a natural impediment in his speech, was accustomed to go to the sea shore, and partly filling his mouth with pebbles, he declaimed with a loud voice. The stones by degrees gave a volubility to his tongue, and the roaring of the waves reconciled him insensibly to the noise of the multitude.

III. The principal object of a public professor is the instruction of the studious youth; for which purpose he is to convince and persuade. Every tone of voice, every expression of the countenance, or action of the body, which can produce this effect by enforcing the words, should therefore be employed by those who are Declaiming to teach the science. There is, moreover, one very essential reflection which every professor ought to make, and which is, that the chair from which he hangs is surrounded by young students, naturally possessed with vivacity, not unfrequently ludicrous; and for the most part previously instructed in the preparatory sciences. They are therefore constantly inclined to criticise, to jest, and to ridicule; for which reason, the professor should endeavour to inspire them with respect and attention, by a grave, commanding, and venerable countenance, and carefully avoid all appearance of grimace in his action, and every kind of affectation in his discourse, that he may not afford the least opportunity of pleasantry.

IV. We now come to theatric declamation. This was very different among the ancients from what it is, and ought to be, with us, from the nature of the thing itself, and from the difference of circumstances. Numberless passages in Quintilian, and other ancient historians, critics, grammarians, and commentators, evidently prove, that the ancient dramatic declamation was subservient to the rules of the musical rhythmus; and by this, according to Aristides*, their action, as well as recital, was regulated. But to explain this seeming paradox, it will be necessary to make here some preliminary remarks. The ancients gave a much more extensive signification than we do to the word music (musica), which they derived from the muses, or at least from some of them. It is for this reason that the same Aristides and Quintilian defined it to be "An art that teaches all that relates to the use of the voice, and the manner of performing all the motions of the body with grace:" Ars decoris in vocibus et motibus. Therefore poetry, declamation, dancing, pantomimes, and many other gestures and exercises, were subservient to this art.

2. That part of general music which taught the art of declamation and gesture according to the rules of an established method (and which we perform by instinct, or at most by the aid of common sense), was distinguished by the name hypocritic music; and this musical art was called by the Greeks orchesis, and by the Romans salutio. It was, however, so far from being an advantage to the ancients to have had this art, which we have not, that it was, on the contrary, a mark of great imperfection. For, in the first place, it was an instance of high absurdity to represent a tragedy, or comedy, before an audience of twenty thousand people, the far greatest part of whom could neither hear nor see what passed to any good purpose, unless they were possessed of organs which we have not. The theatres of London and Paris may conveniently contain about a thousand persons; and that is found sufficient in the most populous cities, where there are several places of entertainment on the same day, and where the people are reasonable enough to succeed each other in their diversions. As the features of the face could not be distinguished at so great a distance, and still less the alteration of countenance; in order to represent the different passions, they were obliged to have recourse to masks, a wretched childish invention, that destroyed all the strength and variety of expression. Their action became extravagant, and at the same time subservient to a regular mechanism; which prevented all the refinement, and all the pleasure of surprise, in the performance, and must have had an effect horribly disagreeable to those who were placed near the stage.

3. The egregious imperfection of their language likewise, which consisted of syllables long and short, whose duration was determined by a set measure of time, and their manner of tuning these syllables, after the method of the orchesis of the Greeks, was another disadvantage. For by this means they determined by notes or characters placed after the long and short syllables, not only the nature, but the duration, of each action. Now, nothing could be more affected, more constrained and disgustful, than such a method of declaiming. How far superior in this respect are the moderns, who consult nature alone in their theatric declamation; who can make the audience hear each sigh; who can accompany it with a proper attitude; who can incessantly vary their action; who can seize the lucky moment, and make the countenance fully express the sensations of the mind! Nature does all here; and art, infinitely inferior to nature, did all among the ancients. Modern declamation cannot be subservient to a musical rhythmus, seeing we speak rapidly, and without affectation. Our actors learn their art without art, from nature itself, assisted by reflection; and they arrive at a degree of excellence infinitely greater than that of the ancients, by a method far more simple, and by efforts incomparably more easy.

4. We do not, moreover, precisely know what the theatric declamation of the ancients was; nor what were the musical instruments which accompanied that declamation. The title to the Eunuch of Terence says, for example, "that Flaccus, the freedman of Claudius, made the music of that piece, in which he employed the two flutes, the right and the left." These flutes, it is likely, gave the tone to the actor, which must have had a very odd effect on the audience. Most of the ancient pieces have similar titles. They who would be particularly informed of the art of declaiming among the Greeks and Romans, may read to advantage the Critical Reflections on Poetry and Painting by the Abbé du Bos. The third part of that work consists entirely of learned researches and ingenious reflections on this silly practice of the ancients. But as this art has happily no place in modern declamation, and can at best serve only to make a parade of erudition, we shall say no more of it, but pass to matters of real utility.

5. We think there is good reason to believe, moreover, that the most polished nations of modern Europe do not accompany their discourses in general with so many gesticulations, as did the Greeks, the Romans, and other inhabitants of warm climates. They appear to have found the method of animating a discourse, and giving it an expression, by the simple inflections of the voice, and by the features of the countenance; which is far more decent, more just and rational, than all those contortions which perpetually derange the natural attitude of the body and its members, and give the speaker the air of a harlequin.

6. Expression, therefore, forms at once the essence and the end of declamation: and the means of producing it consists, in a pronunciation that is sonorous, distinct, and pleasing, supported by an action that is decent and proper to the subject. If the best dramatic poet has need of a good declaimer or actor to make his his writings produce their proper effect, the actor has likewise need of a good poet to enable him to please and affect by the action; for it is to little purpose that he endeavours to charm his auditory by uniting with nature, all the powers of art, if the poet has not furnished him with sentiments that are rational and affecting.

7. The actor, in studying his part before a large mirror, where he can see his whole figure, in order to determine the most proper expressions for every thought, should consult nature, and endeavour to imitate her. But in this imitation, he should take care not to make too servile a copy. He has this to observe, in common with his colleagues, the masters in all the polite arts: The theatre is intended to exhibit an imitation of nature, and not nature itself. Tragedy and comedy form pictures of human life; but these pictures are also pieces of perspective, which require strokes somewhat stronger than nature, that they may be discerned at a distance. The actor is elevated to a considerable height from the ground; he is surrounded by scenery, he is separated from the audience by the orchestra, and he speaks in verse; all this is not natural; but the spectator is to accede to this necessary illusion, in order to promote his own pleasure, which would not be so great as it were all these matters otherwise disposed. Declamation, therefore, should somewhat exceed, but never lose sight of, nature.

8. The tone of the actor's voice should be natural, but regulated by the extent of the theatre; sufficiently loud to be heard by all the audience, but not so violent as to rend their ears. A pure and graceful pronunciation, without any provincial accent, is likewise a great merit in an actor; and he should also habituate himself to speak in a manner perfectly distinct. It is a capital point in pronouncing of verse, not to separate the two hemistichs, by resting too long on the caesura in the middle, or dwelling on the end of each hemistich: for, by so doing, the actor falls into a monotony, an insufferable uniformity of cadence, in a piece that consists of some thousand verses. The gradations of the voice demand also a very judicious observance. The speaker, who begins in a high tone, will find it very difficult to sustain it through the whole piece; and he, who clamours incessantly, will find his lungs fail him in those parts where the vehemence of passion requires the strongest efforts. If we may be allowed the expression, the strongest touches, the boldest figures, will not there stand out from the picture in a striking manner.

9. The deportment of an actor should be constantly graceful, decent, and proper to the character he represents. An old man has a different position of body from a young petit-maitre; an aged queen from a young princess; a noble gallant from a valet de chambre. A rational observance of nature, and an imitation of the best actors, are here the surest guides. The same may be said of the action of the hands, the theatric step, &c. An inanimated figure, a body in the position of a statue, and hands immovable, are as displeasing in the scene, as a player whose incessant gesticulation resembles the action of a puppet.

10. Every actor who aspires to make his art something more than merely mechanical, will begin by enabling himself readily to repeat his part, that the defect of his memory may not embarrass his action. When he is so far a master of it, he will make it the subject of serious reflection in his closet; endeavour to seize the true sense of the author; and to find out that expression of each sentiment and passion, which is the most natural, the most striking, and best adapted to the stage; and which he will cultivate by repeated essays, till he is able to render it in its full force.