QUALITY.
As there are all kinds and qualities of emotions, so there are all kinds and qualities of voice to express them. The shade and varieties of these qualities are as infinite in number as the emotions they express. We need, however, in practice, to make but four general divisions,—whisper, aspirate, pure, and orotund. The whisper expresses secrecy, fear, and like emotions. It is seldom required in reading, as the aspirate is expressive of the same, and you would be likely to use that instead of whisper. You should practise the whisper until you can make it very clear, and free from all impurity, or sound of throat, and full, so as to be heard at a distance. In both whisper and aspirate leave the throat free and open; and be energetic, remembering that force is made by control of muscles at the waist, and not by effort of throat or mouth. The clearer you can make a whisper, the better quality you can make in pure and orotund. Pure tone or quality is sound made with no disagreeable quality being heard; and is the same as pleasant quality, spoken of as being necessary to make listeners. Pure quality is made with ease, with no waste of breath, and is used for expression of agreeable feelings. Orotund is a magnified, pure tone, and adds richness and power to the voice in speech. It is the expression of intense feelings, usually slow in movement, as grandeur, sublimity, awe, &c. It can only be obtained by much practice and much patience, allowing the voice to grow in fulness, as it will in time, if practice continues.
WHISPER.
1.Deep stillness fell on all around:
Through that dense crowd was heard no sound
Of step or word.
2. How dark it is! I cannot seem to see
The faces of my flock. Is that the sea
That murmurs so? or is it weeping? Hush,
My little children! God so loved the world,
He gave his Son: so love ye one another.
Love God and man. Amen!
3. Hush! 'tis a holy hour! The quiet room
Seems like a temple; while yon soft lamp sheds
A faint and starry radiance through the gloom
And the sweet stillness down on bright young heads,
With all their clustering locks untouched by care,
And bowed, as flowers are bowed with night, in prayer.
ASPIRATE.
1. Hush! draw the curtain,—so!
She is dead, quite dead, you see.
Poor little lady! She lies
With the light gone out of her eyes;
But her features still wear that soft,
Gray, meditative expression
Which you must have noticed oft.
2. Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh;
I know thy breath in the burning sky;
And I wait with a thrill in every vein
For the coming of the hurricane.
And, lo! on the wing of the heavy gales,
Through the boundless arch of heaven, he sails:
Silent and slow, and terribly strong,
The mighty shadow is borne along,
Like the dark eternity to come;
While the world below, dismayed and dumb,
Through the calm of the thick hot atmosphere
Looks up at its gloomy folds with fear.
3. 'Tis midnight's holy hour; and silence now
Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er
The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds
The bell's deep tones are swelling: 'tis the knell
Of the departed year. No funeral train
Is sweeping past: yet on the stream and wood,
With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest
Like a pale, spotless shroud; the air is stirred
As by a mourner's sigh; and on yon cloud,
That floats so still and placidly through heaven,
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand,—
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form,
And Winter with its aged locks,—and breathe,
In mournful cadences that come abroad
Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail,
A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year,
Gone from the earth forever.