[Frontispiece: “Hush thy babble, O fountain! Let me listen, let me listen!”]
THE SPEAKER’S
Ideal Entertainments;
FOR
HOME, CHURCH AND SCHOOL.
CONSISTING OF
Recitals, Dialogues and Dramas.
WRITTEN AND EDITED BY
GEORGE M. VICKERS.
With Annotations, Hints upon Gesture and Dramatic Poses, by
FRANCES E. PEIRCE,
PRINCIPAL OF MT. VERNON INSTITUTE OF ELOCUTION AND LANGUAGES, PHILADELPHIA.
S. I. BELL & CO.
PHILADELPHIA AND CHICAGO.
COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY S. I. BELL.
INTRODUCTION.
In preparing this work for the public it has been our aim to choose the very best, and every selection has been made with a special view to elocutionary merits. The “Speakers’ Ideal” is composed of carefully selected pieces from the writings of well known authors, and as a source of supply to the giver of dramatic entertainments, from which they may obtain at once a suitable subject for declamation, recital, dialogue and drama, this volume is without a peer.
The work contains many new pieces not found in any other book, and we have been able to secure a number of selections in the original manuscript, which are here published for the first time. Most of the recitations are accompanied by Annotations for Gesture, by which the amateur, as well as the elocutionist, may be guided in the necessary action, and by a method so extremely simple that the novice who has never had the privilege of instructions in the art of elocution will be enabled to give that indispensable accompaniment, without which, there can be neither natural, oratorical, nor dramatical delivery. This important feature has been carefully prepared by one who stands at the head of the profession as an instructor of elocution, and is found in no other “Speaker.”
Another of the chief characteristics of this work is the large number of full-page and exquisitely engraved half-toned plates, which have been taken from life and produced at large expense expressly for this book. The “Speakers’ Ideal” contains every characteristic of a complete book of elocution, and is, strictly speaking, the only “Speaker” ever published.
The unprecedented success that has attended the sale of the first editions, is proof that our hope to supply a long-felt want has been fully realized, and it is with entire confidence in its merits that we present this work to the public.
THE PUBLISHERS.
NOTATION OF GESTURE.
As a tree without leaves, so is recitation without gesture; but the most beautiful pieces are sometimes marred and burlesqued by awkward or inappropriate action. Our object, therefore, in presenting our system of notation is not to teach gesture――for that can only be acquired from a teacher――but to guide the reciter in a general way.
GESTURES are divided, 1st, into front, oblique, lateral and backward; and 2d, into descending, horizontal and ascending; for instance, if the hand is thrown to the front, it must take a position on a level with the shoulder, or above, or below, which three divisions constitute the positions last named. The same applies to the oblique, which lies anywhere between the front and the lateral; to the lateral, which, as its name indicates, lies to the side; and to the backward. These positions are designated by the following letters: D. F., descending front; D. O., descending oblique; D. L., descending lateral; D. B., descending backward; H. F., horizontal front; H. O., horizontal oblique; H. L., horizontal lateral; H. B., horizontal backward; A. F., ascending front; A. O., ascending oblique; A. L., ascending lateral; A. B., ascending backward. b placed before the above combinations indicates that both hands are used. When not mentioned to the contrary, the supine hand, palm upwards, is used. P. represents prone hand, or palm downward; V. vertical, or palm outward; Ind., index finger as in pointing. This must be carefully distinguished from P. Ind., which means Prone Index or the back of the hand upward, and finger pointing. Cl., expresses clinched hand or fist. Par. expresses both arms parallel towards right or left. If a gesture is illustrative and cannot be expressed by any of the above letters, it will be called special and designated by Sp. All GESTURES of a bold, descriptive, or emphatic character should be made from the shoulder, whilst unimportant or conversational gestures proceed from the elbow. Good taste dictates that a few gestures, properly made, are preferable to a large number crudely constructed.
Let your gestures be so modulated, and so accord with the sentiment, that they may seem a part of a perfect whole.
FRANCES L. PEIRCE.
The Gallant Fifty-First.
Then came the memorable order from Burnside, which must have thrilled every member of the regiment: “Tell Sturgis to send the Fifty-first Pennsylvania to take the bridge.”
Along the valley’s narrow gorge The morning mist outspread, While rifle-pit and breast-work strong Frowned grimly overhead. The sluggish stream that only served To slake the thirst of kine, Was soon to see a drearier sight With men drawn up in line.
Along the crest a flash of fire Breaks red against the sky, Along the hillside’s narrow slope Comes back the quick reply. Ferraro dashes up in haste, His countenance aflame, “The Fifty-first must storm the bridge,” ’Twas thus the order came.
“Fix bayonets!” over Hartranft’s face A strange smile sent its beam; The red blood flushed, his dusky cheek―― His dark eyes all agleam. Sturgis and Cook in vain essayed, And others yet may try, But now the gallant Fifty-first Must storm the bridge or die.
Bright flashed the sword their leader drew―― “Charge!” Like a simoon’s blast, The Fifty-first, mid shot and shell, Dashed on――the bridge is passed; The beaten foe in wild retreat Is flying o’er the bridge, Huzza! huzza! The Fifty-first Has stormed Antietam’s bridge!
Oh, men of Pennsylvania, Along your bloody route Lies many a comrade, dull of ear, Who may not have heard you shout; But o’er your country’s wide domain A pæan grand shall burst; A nation’s accolade be thine―― O gallant Fifty-first!
The Dead Letter.
There, now! I’ve read your letter through Three times; I’ll read it once again If you say so; it rests with you.[2] What? loan you paper, ink and pen? Why, man you’re weaker than a child. To-morrow I will gladly write Whate’er you wish. Be reconciled,[3] Compose yourself and rest to-night.
You think we nuns are good to tend The sick, to count our beads, and pray, But that we do not comprehend How worldly people dread delay In getting word from those they love: Why, sir, you know not what you say―― Ah! this dark robe too well doth prove The sorrow of that by-gone[4] day――
No, no; I fully understand What you would say. There’s no offence; Naught to forgive. There take[5] my hand. We now are friends. In confidence The story of a broken life, Before the doctor comes, I’ll tell: Of how I shunned[6] the cold world’s strife And sought a quiet convent cell.
Far back[7] in life I loved a man, A gen’rous, noble heart and true: And he loved me as only can, As only gallant natures do. Our days passed by so quietly, Love’s dream so rosy-hued had grown That seasons glided by[8] ere we Would note that e’en a month had flown.
Thus ran my girlhood and his youth, Till came the naming of the happy day―― Our wedding day――that would in truth Have made us man and wife for aye, When, like a blow from one we love, There came an unexpected woe; In vain ’gainst[9] fate we madly strove; Each cherished hope lay scattered[10] low.
A crime had been committed in The village where lived he and I; And ’mid the first wild, senseless din That marked the people’s hue and cry, Suspicion on him[11] fell, and so, To ’scape the frenzied, ‘vengeful mob, He, innocent, resolved to go Away[12]――and I to stay and sob.
Then, bending low, said he, “This thing Will only for a season last, A moment full relief may bring; At most our grief will soon be past; But, darling, should it not be so, Write” (he whispered a fictitious name), “And I will by your letter know That in your eyes I bear no shame.”
The rain fell from a dark’ning sky,[13] The apple blossoms scattered[14] lay, The chill wind moaned, and night drew nigh, As with a sigh he turned away[15]―― I watched[16] his form till lost in gloom, And, save the dripping of the rain,[17] There fell a stillness[18] of the tomb―― A lull that seemed to daze my brain.[19]
The morning after that sad night The guilty one was found; and I, With woman’s haste, sat down to write, And wrote in joyous ecstasy; The letter mailed, each moment seemed An age; but days and weeks passed by―― With visions dread my fancy teemed―― But came he not, nor made reply.
One day, when hope had almost fled, The post-man thrust it in my hand: “This is from Washington,”[20] he said, “Dead-letter office, understand?” With throbbing heart I broke the seal, My face grew whiter than a sheet, The dreadful blunder made me reel And drop[21] the letter at my feet.
Instead of the fictitious name He gave, it bore his own, Which knowing not, he could not claim―― To him my lines were never known―― In loneliness he died: and here I nurse the sick; but I have done―― And, sir[22] no longer have a fear To trust me, though I’m but a nun.