CHAPTER II.

CONVERSATION, DISCOURSE, ELOCUTION, AND VERSIFI

CATION.

Representative Character of Intonations-Every Man has a Rhythm and a Tune of his Own-Physiological Reason for this-Cultivated by Public Speaking-Recitative, and the Origin of Poetic and Musical Melody— Poetry, Song, Dance, all connected; but not developed from each Other -Poetic Pause and Accent are developed only from Speech-Pause the Source of Verse-Breathing and the Line-Hebrew Parallelism; Greek-The Casura-Accent, the Source of Rhythm and Tune-Feet: how produced in English; in the Classic Languages-Metrical Possibilities of English.

WE all must have noticed that a child too young to

talk, a foreigner using a language unknown to us, a friend speaking at such a distance from us that his words are indistinguishable, can all reveal to us, with a certain degree of definiteness, the general tenor of their thoughts. Their tones, aside from their words, enable us to understand such facts as whether they are hurried or at leisure, elated or depressed, in earnest or indifferent, pleased or angered. This is so because these facts are directly represented by their intonations. Developed with design, these may be made to resemble those of the foremost actors and orators. Hence the art of elocution. Developed without design, they instinctively come to imitate those of the people with whom one most associates. Scotchmen, Irishmen, Englishmen, and Americans can all be distinguished by the different ways in which they utter the same

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phrases. No two of them will emphasize precisely alike a simple expression such as "I can't go there to-day."

Not only men of different nations can be distinguished thus, but even different individuals. Any one well known to us can be recognized in the dark by what we term his voice, by which we mean his method of using his voice; the way, peculiar to himself, of pausing at certain intervals and hurrying at others, of sliding his sounds up and down on certain syllables and phrases, and also, perhaps, of giving in certain places an unusual stress or quality of tone. All these methods impress his individuality on every thing that he has to say. If he becomes a public speaker, his peculiarities in these regards become still more marked. Unconsciously, if not consciously, he develops them so that, in his delivery, similar intonations recur with a certain degree of regularity; in other words, he comes to have what may be termed a rhythm and a tune of his own. The reason why he comes to have these is, undoubtedly, mainly physiological, as is intimated by Herbert Spencer in his "Essay on Style," and Grant Allen in his " Physiological Esthetics." It is owing to a natural tendency to economize labor. Just as the swing

ing of the hands enables one to walk more easily, so what may be termed the swinging of the tones enables one to talk more easily. So, also, as we shall find by-and-bye, do verse and measure, to which these intonations naturally lead. The two together separate the words and syllables, and make them accord with the natural actions of the lungs and throat.

But let us waive this thought, until we reach it in its proper place. Before the age of books those who prepared literature published it by repeating it in public. Every man who did this had, of course, his own peculiarities of

utterance, which, as he continued to repeat his productions, he would cultivate and render more and more peculiar; just as is the case to-day with the venders who cry in our streets, the clerks who read in our courts, and the priests who intone the services in our churches. These peculiarities, moreover, would be shown not only in the elocution of the reciter, but in the arrangement of his words and sentences, so as to fit them to his elocution. At the outset, every literary man would have his own style of delivery and composition, and confine himself to it. But after a little, just as men of the same districts, and preachers and exhorters of the same religious sectsQuakers, Methodists, or Episcopalians,-imitate each other; so these public reciters would drift into imitation. Before long, too, it would be found that one style of expression, or form of words, was better suited for one set of ideas, and another for another set; so, in time, the same reciter would come to use different styles or forms for different subjects. Only a slight knowledge of history is needed in order to prove that this is what has actually taken place. Spenserian verse, and possibly Homeric, as also the Alcaic and Sapphic stanzas of the Greeks, were used first by the poets whose names they bear; but to-day they are used by many others who find them the best forms through which to express what they wish to write.

But to return to our line of thought. A further development in the direction already indicated, would cause these reciters after a time to use versification, so that their rhythms and the variations in them might be more clearly marked; and still later, that the precise length of their verses might be apparent, as well as to assist the memory in retaining them, they would use rhymes. Further developments in the direction of rhythm and tune,

introducing greater variety in both, and making the tones more and more sustained, would lead to the singing of songs-that is, to poetry set to musical melody.

Such, crudely outlined, seems to be the most rational explanation of the rise of poetic forms. It is true that some, like Dr. J. H. Heinrich Schmidt, in his "Introduction to the Rhythmic and Metric of the Classic Languages," hold that "poetry and music had their origin in the dance and song," and that "it must be carefully borne in mind that recited poetry was developed from song." But while he maintains this theory, Dr. Schmidt is obliged to admit that it cannot be substantiated by the known facts of history. He says that the march-melodies, dance-melodies, and purely lyric melodies, which, he believes, to have preceded recitative poetry, were so inferior in quality that none of them have come down to us. Of the products which have come down to us, "recitative poetry, powerfully developed in the great national epics (Homer, Hesiod, Arctinus, Stasinus, etc.), comes first. Then purely lyrical poetry appears with Callinus, Archilochus, etc. The first march-melodies were written by Tyrtæus for the Spartans. And about the same time we hear of the first choric compositions (i. e., dance-melodies), those, namely, of Alcman and Stesichorus."

This order of development, it will be seen, corresponds to that of the theory just presented here. But, while we hold this theory, perhaps we should be going too far, did we carry it to the extreme that Herbert Spencer does in his "Essay on the Origin and Function of Music," in which he seems to argue that every thing that we have in music is merely a development of the forms of speech. It seems more likely that both music and speech, the one instinctive in its nature, and the other reflective, are

equally differentiated from a primitive ejaculatory form of utterance. Speech, as we have it, originated with man; but long before the existence of man, there must have been lower orders of creation in which the tendencies subsequently developed into speech and music, both existed in distinct and different forms. In fact, all the modes of expression mentioned by Schmidt-talking, singing, and dance-gesturing—have dance-gesturing-have correspondences,

respectively, in the chirping, singing, and fluttering of the bird. Spencer is undoubtedly right in saying that poetry is "a form of speech used for the better expression of emotional ideas." It, and all the higher forms of eloquence, are developed from talking with a musical orwhat is the same thing-an emotional motive. And Schmidt is undoubtedly right in recognizing that the three forms of expression which he mentions have a tendency to run into each other. Whether one starts out to talk, or sing, or gesture, he may end by doing all three. This fact has been true, probably, as long as man has existed; and in this sense, dance and song-i. e., music in connection with rhythmical language, undoubtedly preceded the earliest known recitative poems. But it is a different thing to say that poetry, which is distinctively an artistic development of language, is nothing but a development of dance and song. In no true sense can this be affirmed, although of course poetry, music, and dancing have all influenced each other, and in important particulars the principles underlying all are the same.

It has been shown from analogy that language, as used by the early reciters, had a natural tendency to become rhythmical; also from history, that the various forms of existing poetry were developed from the recitative. The strongest argument in favor of the view just advanced,