No. 541. form themselves into an Acute or Grave, Quick or Slow, Thursday, Lowd or Soft Tone, These too may be subdivided into Nov, 20, various Kinds of Tones, as the gentle, the rough, the

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contracted, the diffused, the continued, the intermitted, the broken, abrupt, winding, softned, or elevated. Every one of these may be employed with Art and Judgment; and all supply the Actor, as Colours do the Painter, with an expressive Variety,

Anger exerts its peculiar Voice in an acute, raised, and hurrying Sound. The passionate Character of King Lear, as it is admirably drawn by Shakespear, abounds with the strongest Instances of this kind.

-Death! Confusion!

Fiery?what Quality ?--why Gloster! Gloster!

I'd speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his Wife....
Are they inform'd of this? My Breath and Blood!
Fiery? the fiery Duke? &c.

Sorrow and Complaint demand a Voice quite different, flexible, slow, interrupted, and modulated in a mournful Tone; as in that pathetical Soliloquy of Cardinal Wolsey on his Fall,

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,
And when he thinks, good easie Man, full surely
His Greatness is a ripening, nips his Root,
And then he falls as I do,

We have likewise a fine Example of this in the whole Part of Andromache in the Distrest Mother, particularly in these lines,

I'll go, and in the Anguish of my Heart

Weep o'er my Child-If he must dye, my Life
Is wrapt in his, I shall not long survive.
'Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd Life,
Groan'd in Captivity, and outliv'd Hector,
Yes, my Astyanax, we'll go together!
Together to the Realms of Night we'll go
There to thy ravish'd Eyes thy Sire I'll show,
And point him out among the Shades below.

}

Fear expresses itself in a low, hesitating and abject

Sound

Sound. If the Reader considers the following Speech of No. 541. Lady Macbeth, while her Husband is about the Murder Thursday, of Duncan and his Grooms, he will imagine her even Nov, 20, affrighted with the Sound of her own Voice while she is speaking it.

Alas! I am afraid they have awak'd

And 'tis not done, th' Attempt and not the Deed
Confounds us-hark!--I laid the Daggers ready,
He cou'd not miss them. Had he not resembled
My Father as he slept, I had done it.

Courage assumes a louder Tone, as in that Speech of
Don Sebastian,

Here satiate all your Fury;

Let Fortune empty her whole Quiver on me,
I have a Soul that like an ample Shield

Can take in all, and Verge enough for more.

Pleasure dissolves into a luxurious, mild, tender and joyous Modulation; as in the following Lines in Caius Maríus,

Lavinia! O there's Musick in the Name,

That softning me to infant Tenderness

Makes my Heart spring, like the first Leaps of Life. And Perplexity is different from all these; grave, but not bemoaning, with an earnest uniform Sound of Voice; as in that celebrated Speech of Hamlet,

To be, or not to be?—that is the Question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the Mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outragious Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of Troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep
No more; and by a Sleep to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand natural Shocks
That Flesh is Heir to; 'Tis a Consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep-

To sleep, perchance to dream! Ay, there's the Rub.
For in that Sleep of Death what Dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this Mortal Coil,
Must give us pause.-There's the Respect
That makes Calamity of so long Life;

For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of Time,
Th' Oppressor's Wrong, the proud Man's Contumely,
The Pangs of despis'd Love, the Law's Delay,

The Insolence of Office, and the Spurns

That patient Merit of th' unworthy takes,

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When

No. 541.
Thursday,
Nov. 20,
1712.

When he himself might his Quietus make
With a bare Bodkin? who wou'd Fardles bear,
To groan and sweat under a weary Life?
But that the Dread of something after Death,
The undiscover'd Country, from whose Bourn
No Traveller returns, puzzles the Will,

And makes us rather chuse those Ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of,

As all these Varieties of Voice are to be directed by the Sense, so the Action is to be directed by the Voice, and with a beautiful Propriety, as it were, to enforce it. The Arm, which by a strong Figure Tully calls the Orator's Weapon, is to be sometimes raised and extended, and the Hand, by its Motion, sometimes to lead, and sometimes to follow the Words as they are uttered. The Stamping of the Foot too has its proper Expression in Contention, Anger, or absolute Command. But the Face is the Epitome of the whole Man, and the Eyes are, as it were the Epitome of the Face; for which Reason, he says, the best Judges among the Romans were not extreamly pleased, even with Roscius himself in his Masque, No Part of the Body, besides the Face, is capable of as many Changes as there are different Emotions in the Mind, and of expressing them all by those Changes. Nor is this to be done without the Freedom of the Eyes; there fore Theophrastus called one, who barely rehearsed his Speech with his Eyes fixt, an absent Actor.

As the Countenance admits of so great Variety, it requires also great Judgment to govern it. Not that the Form of the Face is to be shifted on every Occasion, lest it turn to Farce and Buffoonery; but it is certain, that the Eyes have a wonderful Power of marking the Emotions of the Mind, sometimes by a stedfast Look, sometimes by a careless one; now by a sudden Regard, then by a joyful Sparkling, as the Sense of the Words is diversifyed; for Action is, as it were, the Speech of the Features and Limbs, and must therefore conform it self always to the Sentiments of the Soul. And it may be observed, that in all which relates to the Gesture, there is a wonderful Force implanted by Nature; since the Vulgar, the Un skillful, and even the most Barbarous are chiefly affected by this. None are moved by the Sound of Words, but those

those who understand the Language; and the Sense of No. 541, many things is lost upon Men of a dull Apprehension; Thursday, Nov. 20, but Action is a kind of Universal Tongue; all Men are 1712. subject to the same Passions, and consequently know the same Marks of them in others, by which they themselves express them.

Perhaps some of my Readers may be of Opinion, that the Hints I have here made use of, out of Cicero, are somewhat too refined for the Players on our Theatre; in answer to which I venture to lay it down, as a Maxim, that without good Sense no one can be a good Player, and that he is very unfit to personate the Dignity of a Roman Hero, who cannot enter into the Rules for Pronunciation and Gesture delivered by a Roman Orator.

There is another thing which my Author does not think too minute to insist on, though it is purely mechani cal; and that is the right pitching of the Voice. On this Occasion he tells the Story of Gracchus, who employed a Servant with a little Ivory Pipe to stand behind him, and give him the right Pitch, as often as he wandred too far from the proper Modulation. Every Voice, says Tully, has its particular Medium and Compass, and the Sweetness of Speech consists in leading it through all the Variety of Tones naturally, and without touching any Extreme. Therefore, says he, Leave the Pipe at home, but carry the Sense of this Custom with you.

No. 542.
[ADDISON.]

Friday, November 21.

Et sibi praeferri se gaudet———,—-Ovid,

WHEN I have been present in Assemblies where

my Paper has been talked of, I have been very well pleased to hear those who would detract from the Author of it observe, that the Letters which are sent to the Spectator are as good, if not better, than any of his Works. Upon this Occasion many Letters of Mirth are usually mentioned, which some think the Spectator writ to himself, and which others Commend because they fancy he received them from his Correspondents: Such are those from the Valetudinarian; the Inspector of the

No. 542.
Friday,
Nov, 21,

1712.

Sign-posts; the Master of the Fan Exercise: with that of
the Hooped Petticoat; that of Nicholas Hart the annual
Sleeper; that from Sir John Envill; that upon the London
Cries; with Multitudes of the same Nature. As I love
nothing more than to mortifie the ill-natured, that I may
do it effectually, I must acquaint them, they have very
often praised me when they did not design it, and that
they have approved my Writings when they thought
they had derogated from them. I have heard several of
these unhappy Gentlemen proving, by undeniable Argu
ments, that I was not able to pen a Letter which I had
written the Day before, Nay, I have heard some of them
throwing out ambiguous Expressions, and giving the
Company Reason to suspect that they themselves did me
the Honour to send me such or such a particular Epistle,
which happened to be talked of with the Esteem or Ap
probation of those who were present.
These rigid
Criticks are so afraid of allowing me any thing which
does not belong to me, that they will not be positive
whether the Lion, the wild Boar, and the Flower pots in
the Play-house, did not actually write those Letters which
came to me in their Names. I must therefore inform
these Gentlemen, that I often chuse this way of casting
my Thoughts into a Letter, for the following Reasons;
First, out of the Policy of those who try their Jest upon
another, before they own it themselves. Secondly, be
cause I would extort a little Praise from such who will
never applaud any thing whose Author is known and
certain. Thirdly, because it gave me an Opportunity of
introducing a great variety of Characters into my Work,
which could not have been done, had I always written
in the Person of the Spectator. Fourthly, because the
Dignity Spectatorial would have suffered, had I published
as from my self those several ludicrous Compositions
which I have ascribed to fictitious Names and Characters.
And lastly, because they often serve to bring in, more
naturally, such additional Reflections as have been placed
at the End of them.

There are others who have likewise done me a very particular Honour, though undesignedly. These are such who will needs have it, that I have translated or borrowed

many