self in quick electrical sympathy with his audience, and every breath and current of thought and feeling by which it is affected, sweeps through his own soul,—when he feels a stream of mental influence from every person that he addresses, as potent and stimulating as if they were all so many galvanic batteries, with their wires of communication concentring in his own bosom. There are other times when he feels himself so repelled and chilled by the cold, stern gaze of the faces before him, that all his faculties are benumbed. There are moments of inspiration when he feels a kind of divine afflatus, and, instead of making an effort to speak, he seems to be spoken from; his soul is so flooded with emotion, that he seems to be lifted off his feet, and to tread on air. He speaks at such times in a kind of ecstasy or rapture, and hours may pass without any consciousness of fatigue. There are other moments when his thoughts and ideas, instead of flowing apparently from an inexhaustible fountain, can only be pumped up with great effort; when expression and illustration, instead of flocking to his lips, seem to fly from them. Again, how often when he has carefully prepared a speech, does he have to wait for an opportunity to deliver it, till the fire and glow that attended its preparation have become extinct! How often do the happiest ideas and illustrations flash upon him after he has sat down! He could pulverize his adversary were the debate to be repeated, but his crushing arguments have presented themselves too late. William Wirt had once an afflicting experience of this kind, which, with others that might be cited, tends to show that oratorical victories are due to sudden inspirations, to opportunity or luck, as often as victories in the field. "Had the cause been to argue over again on the next day," he wrote to a friend, after having grappled with Pinkney, "I could have shivered him, for his discussion revived all my forgotten topics, and, as I lay in my bed on the following. morning, arguments poured themselves out before me as a cornucopia. I should have wept at the consideration of what I had lost, if I had not prevented it by leaping out of bed, and beginning to sing and dance like a maniac." as It will be seen by these examples that there are OCcasions when courage, coolness, presence of mind, and promptness of decision are required of the orator truly as of the general on the field of battle. Especially does he require them on field-days, in parliamentary duellos, in the hand-to-hand encounter of intellects, where the home thrust is often so suddenly given. At such times, it is not enough to be endowed with the rarest intellectual gifts, unless he is able also to command his whole intellectual force the moment he wants to use it. We believe, therefore, that there is no grander manifestation of the power of the human mind, than that of an orator launched suddenly, without warning, on the ocean of improvisation, and spreading his sails to the breeze; coolly yet instantaneously deciding upon his course, and earnestly and even passionately pursuing it; at the same moment guiding his bark amid the rocks and quicksands on the way, and forecasting his future course; now seemingly overwhelmed in a storm of interruption, yet rising stronger from opposition; now suddenly collecting his forces in an interval of applause, battling with and conquering both himself and his audience, and mounting triumphantly billow after billow, until with his auditory he reaches the haven on which his longing eye has been fixed. CHAPTER VI. THE ORATOR'S HELPS. AS language is the orator's principal instrument of con viction and persuasion, it is evident that a perfect command of it is absolutely indispensable to the highest success. It is evident, too, that such a command does not come by instinct or inspiration, but must be gained by dint of study and painstaking. The power of speaking in clear, vigorous, racy, picturesque, and musical English,- of employing the "aptest words in the aptest places,"-demands of him who would possess himself of it, as careful and persistent culture as that of sounding the depths of metaphysies, or of solving the toughest mathematical problems. But how shall this power be acquired? We answer, partly by the constant practice of composition with the pen (of which we shall speak more at length further on), and partly in two other ways, viz., by reading and translation. Next in value to the frequent use of the pen, is the practice of carefully reading and re-reading the best prose writers and poets, and committing their finest passages to memory, so as to be able to repeat them at any moment without effort. The advantages of this practice are that it not only strengthens the memory, but fills and fertilizes the mind with pregnant and suggestive thoughts, expressed in the happiest language, stores it with graceful images, and, above all, forms the ear to the rhythm and number of the period, which add so much to its impressiveness and force. If we study the masterpieces of eloquence we shall find that it is in a large measure to the rhythmus, the harmony of the sentences, that many of the most striking passages owe their effect. The ancient orators paid especial attention to this point. They bestowed incredible pains not only upon the choice of words, but upon their metrical arrangement, so that they might fall most pleasingly upon the ear. Cicero quotes half-a-dozen words from a speech of Carbo, which were so exquisitely selected and collocated that they almost brought his hearers to their feet. It may be thought that so much attention to form may distract the speaker from proper attention to the substance of his discourse, and tempt him to sacrifice sense to sound; and such, indeed, was the effect in the times that succeeded the dissolution of the Roman Republic. Quintilian states that it was the ridiculous boast of certain orators in the days of the declension of genuine eloquence, that their harangues were capable of being set to music, and sung upon the stage. So far was this affectation carried by the younger Gracchus, that when he harangued the populace, he used to employ a skillful flute-player, to stand behind him in a position where he could not be observed, and, by the tones of his instrument, regulate the proper pitch of his voice! It was this depravity of taste which gave rise to what Tacitus calls "the very indecent and preposterous. though very frequent expression," that such an orator speaks smoothly, and that such a dancer moves eloquently. But the abuse of an art is no argument against its use. The example of the Prince of Orators shows that, in cultivating the form, we need not separate it from the sub stance; that this is not true art, but the want of art, since for true art the most perfect form is nothing less than the clearest and most transparent appearance of the substance. - It is the melody of a sentence which, so to speak, makes it cut, which gives it speedy entrance into the mind, causes it to penetrate deeply, and to exercise a magic. power over the heart. It is not enough that the speaker's utterances impress the mind of the hearer; they should ring in his ears; they should appeal to the senses, as well as to the feelings, the imagination, and the intellect; then, when they seize at once on the whole man, on body, soul, and spirit, will they "swell in the heart, and kindle in the eyes," and constrain him, he knows not why, to believe and to obey. Let the student of oratory, then, brood over the finest passages of English composition, both prose and poetry, in his leisure hours, till his mind is surcharged with them; let him read and re-read the ever-varied verse of Shakspeare, the majestic and pregnant lines of Milton, the harmonious and cadenced compositions of Bolingbroke, Grattan, Erskine, Curran, and Robert Hall. Let him dwell upon these passages and recite them till they almost seem his own,and insensibly, without effort, he will "form to theirs the relish of his soul," and will find himself adopting their language, and imitating them instinctively through a natural love for the beautiful, and the strong desire which every one feels to reproduce what is pleasing to him. By this process he will have prepared in his mind, so to speak, a variety of oratorical moulds, of the most exquisite shape and pattern, into which the stream of thought, flowing red-hot and molten, from a mind glow |