By a freedom from nasal murmur and aspiration.
By a satisfactory loudness and audibility.
By smoothness, or a freedom from all reedy or guttural harshness.
By a ringing sonorous quality of voice resembling certain musical instruments.
The possession of the power of this voice is greatly dependent on cultivation and management, and experiments have proved that more depends on cultivation than on natural peculiarity. Much care and labour are necessary for acquiring this improved condition of the speaking voice, the lungs must be kept well supplied with breath, there must be a full expansion of the chest, causing the abdomen gently to protrude, the throat and the mouth must be kept well open so as to give free course to the sound. Never waste the breath, every pause must be occupied in replenishing the lungs, and the inhalation should be done as silently as possible, and through the nostrils as well as by the mouth.
Excellence in this quality of voice depends on the earnest and frequent practice of reading aloud with the utmost degree of force. The voice may be exerted to a great extent without fatigue or injury, but should never be taxed beyond its powers, and as soon as this strong action can be employed without producing hoarseness, it should be maintained for half an hour at a time.
This practice is very beneficial to the health, especially if prosecuted in the open air, or in a large, well ventilated room, and if pursued regularly, energetically, and systematically, the pupil will be surprised and delighted at his rapid progress in this art, and his voice, from a condition of comparative feebleness, will soon develop into one of well- marked strength, fullness, and distinctness.
1.
Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow
Adown enormous ravines slope amain,—
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven
Beneath the keen, full moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet!—
God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!—
And they, too, have a voice,—yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!
Coleridge.