37. The Music Performer and the Orator

The Art of Communication
The Music Performer and the Orator

Music is oratory in tones, and the ancient orators gleaned their best rules from music.

Johann Mattheson (1739)

Performers of Music, orators, actors, ancient poets, and preachers have professions which are largely judged by their success in communicating with an audience. As the quotation above documents, music and oratory in particular have a very long history of sharing information on how to achieve this success. The origin for this has to do with the fact that both have common roots in the remote era of early man before language, when sounds, gesture and emotion all came together in the most primitive and earliest form of communication.

Another thing they have in common is the use of the body to communicate emotion. In the case of the face, this follows from the fact that the face expresses the basic common emotions, as for example a smile is recognizable in every culture. And since the fetus also makes a smile in the same way, without ever having seen a model to imitate, the implication is that basic facial communications, as well as the basic emotions themselves, are genetic.

In the extant writings of ancient philosophers there is considerable discussion of orators, no doubt because of their political impact on society. In these discussions one finds much reference to music and musicians. Sometimes music is used to clarify emotional purpose, but sometimes these early treatises point to musicians as models for orators to study with regard to actual gestures and facial expressions, using music as a mirror to enlighten the orator. But we are presenting this essay with the opposite goal, helping musicians to expand their knowledge of how the body can help in their communication with the audience. Perhaps in the discussion of oratory, especially in its focus on communicating emotion to the audience, the reader will discover some interesting and ancient reflections about the performance of music.

There are several surviving accounts of a famous ancient Roman orator, Gaius Gracchus, who had a servant with a kind of pitch pipe stand behind him when he spoke. Apparently the pitches produced by the servant served to control the speakers pitch, preventing it from rising as the speech became more passionate. Here is an account by Cicero (106–43 BC):

Gracchus made a practice of having a skilled attendant to stand behind him out of sight with a little ivory pipe when he was making a speech, in order promptly to blow a note to rouse him when he was getting slack or to check him from overstraining his voice…. In every voice there is a mean pitch, but each voice has it own; and for the voice to rise gradually from the mean is not only agreeable (because it is a boorish trick to shout loudly at the beginning) but also beneficial for giving it strength; then there is an extreme point of elevation, which nevertheless falls short of the shrillest possible screech, and from this point the pipe will not allow one to go further, and will begin to call one back from the actual top note; and on the other side there is similarly an extreme point in the lowering of the pitch, the point reached in a sort of descending scale of sounds. This variation and this passage of the voice through all the notes will both safeguard itself and add charm to the delivery. But you will leave the piper at home, and only take with you down to the house the perception that his training gives you.1

Marcus Fabius Quintilian (35–100 AD), a rhetorician, mentions the importance of the study of music for preparation for oratory and gives us the name of this pitch pipe, “tonarion.”2 An ode in honor of Nero, by Calpurnius Siculus, records that this pitch pipe was made from boxwood.3 Plutarch (46–119 AD) adds the name of this pitch pipe player, Licinius.4

Quintilian believed the orator must excite the emotions of the listener if he is to be successful. He begins the defense of his contention in a discussion on the difference between “pathos” and “ethos.” This is a particularly valuable passage, not only for its discussion of various emotions, but for comments on the expression of emotions which apply to musical performance as well. He begins by attempting to convey the meaning of these Greek terms to his Latin readers.

Emotions however, as we learn from ancient authorities, fall into two classes; the one is called pathos by the Greeks and is rightly and correctly expressed in Latin by adfectus (emotion): the other is called ethos, a word for which in my opinion Latin has no equivalent: it is however rendered by “mores” (morals) and consequently the branch of philosophy known as ethics is styled moral philosophy by us. But close consideration of the nature of the subject leads me to think that in this connection it is not so much morals in general that is meant as certain peculiar aspects; for the term morals includes every attitude of the mind. The more cautious writers have preferred to give the sense of the term rather than to translate it into Latin. They therefore explain pathos as describing the more violent emotions and ethos as designating those which are calm and gentle: in the one case the passions are violent, in the other subdued, the former command and disturb, the latter persuade and induce a feeling of goodwill.5

He agrees with some authors who maintain that while the ethos is continuous, pathos is more momentary in character. On the other hand, he points out, pathos and ethos are sometimes of the same nature, differing only in degree.

Love for instance comes under the head of pathos, affection of ethos; sometimes however they differ, a distinction which is important for the peroration, since ethos is generally employed to calm the storm aroused by pathos.

But how does the orator develop the ability to express varying emotions? What followed was a precursor of Stanislavsky’s “method acting,” through which one learns to re-experience the emotions one had previously experienced to convey from the stage. Among the performing arts only musicians are spared such processes of “inventing” or reliving emotions, for in music the emotions expressed are the real ones. Nevertheless, Quintilian’s discussion should remind musicians that genuine emotional communication must be founded on genuine emotions. Just as in the case of the actor, the musician must feel the emotions.

The prime essential for stirring the emotions of others is, in my opinion, first to feel those emotions oneself. It is sometimes positively ridiculous to counterfeit grief, anger and indignation, if we content ourselves with accommodating our words and looks and make no attempt to adapt our own feelings to the emotions to be expressed. What other reason is there for the eloquence with which mourners express their grief, or for the fluency which anger lends even to the uneducated, save the fact that their minds are stirred to power by the depth and sincerity of their feelings? Consequently, if we wish to give our words the appearance of sincerity, we must assimilate ourselves to the emotions of those who are genuinely so affected, and our eloquence must spring from the same feeling that we desire to produce in the mind of the judge…. But how are we to generate these emotions in ourselves, since emotion is not in our own power? I will try to explain as best I may. There are certain experiences which the Greeks call “oavradias,” and the Romans “visions,” whereby things absent are presented to our imagination with such extreme vividness that they seem actually to be before our very eyes. It is the man who is really sensitive to such impressions who will have the greatest power over the emotions … It is a power which all may readily acquire if they will.

In another place, Quintilian explains that the ability of the orator to communicate emotions to the audience depends on the use of both the voice and the body. It is interesting that here he recommends to the orator the study of Music for learning how this is done.

Let us discuss the advantages which our future orator may reasonably expect to derive from the study of Music. Music has two modes of expression in the voice and in the body; for both voice and body require to be controlled by appropriate rules. Aristoxenus divides music, in so far as it concerns the voice, into rhythm and melody, the one consisting in measure, the latter in sound and song. Now I ask you whether it is not absolutely necessary for the orator to be acquainted with all these methods of expression which are concerned firstly with gesture, secondly with the arrangement of words and thirdly with the inflections of the voice, of which a great variety are required for law practice. Otherwise we must assume that structure and the euphonious combination of sounds are necessary only for poetry, lyric and otherwise, but superfluous in law, or that unlike music, oratory has no interest in the variation of arrangement and sound to suit the demands of the case. But eloquence does vary both tone and rhythm, expressing sublime thoughts with elevation, pleasing thoughts with sweetness, and ordinary with gentle utterance, and in every expression of its art is in sympathy with the emotions of which it is the mouthpiece. It is by the raising, lowering or inflection of the voice that the orator stirs the emotions of his hearers, and the measure, if I may repeat the term, of voice or phrase differs according as we wish to rouse the indignation or the pity of the judge. For, as we know, different emotions are roused even by the various musical instruments, which are incapable of reproducing speech. Further the motion of the body must be suitable and becoming, or as the Greeks call it “eurythmic,” and this can only be secured by the study of music.6

In a discussion on the goals of the orator, Cicero (106–43 BC) adds here the very important aesthetic topic of Universality. Cicero takes the position that if the fine speaker accomplishes the goals he has listed above, it will always be the masses, and not the experts, who identify the excellent speaker. It is interesting that this is almost identical with one Debussy would make twenty centuries later. Debussy noted that an artist is most complimented when he is complimented by the real experts in his field; however, “fame is a gift of the masses who know nothing.”

In particular, Cicero identified emotion as the universal element which captures the appreciation of the large audience, something which he found similar in both music and oratory.7

For just as from the sound of the strings on the harp the skill with which they are struck is readily recognized, so what skill the orator has in playing on the minds of his audience is recognized by the emotion produced.

But universality is not the same as popularity. Cicero understood this and he makes it very clear that to actually program at the level of the masses is something quite different and something which the artist does not do.

Can it be that while the aulos players and those who play the lyre use their own judgment, not that of the crowd, to tune their songs and melodies…. Is anything more foolish than to think that those whom as individuals one despises as mere hacks and hooligans amount to something when taken all together?8

On the other hand, Cicero did not object in principle to the idea that the orator, or artist, might aspire to be successful with his audience.9

Ambition is a universal factor in life, and the nobler a man is, the more susceptible is he to the sweets of fame. We should not disclaim this human weakness, which indeed is patent to all; we should rather admit it unabashed. Why, upon the very books in which they bid us scorn ambition, philosophers inscribe their names!

Cicero began to associate oratory with music more when he pointed to rhythm as the element which made the orator an “artist.” The development of this style, he points out, has its origin in music.

Who then is the man who gives people a thrill? Whom do they stare at in amazement when he speaks? Who is interrupted by applause? Who is thought to be so to say a god among men? It is those whose speeches are clear, explicit and full, perspicuous in matter and in language, and who in the actual delivery achieve a sort of rhythm and cadence—that is, those whose style is what I call artistic.10

Cicero also discusses in some detail the use of pitch as an important aspect of vocal delivery, once observing “that nature herself modulates the voice to gratify the ear of mankind.”11 In another place he discusses this in more detail with respect to the orator.12

There are as many variations in the tones of the voice as there are in feelings, which are especially aroused by the voice. Accordingly the perfect orator… will use certain tones according as he wishes to seem himself to be moved and to sway the minds of his audience… I might also speak about gestures, which include facial expression. The way in which the orator uses these makes a difference which can scarcely be described …

Demosthenes was right, therefore, in considering delivery to be in the first, second and third in importance… Therefore the one who seeks supremacy in eloquence will strive to speak intensely with a vehement tone, and gently with lowered voice, and to show dignity in a deep voice, and wretchedness by a plaintive tone. For the voice possesses a marvelous quality, so that from merely three registers, high, low and intermediate, it produces such a rich and pleasing variety in song. There is, moreover, even in speech, a sort of singing… which Demosthenes and Aeschines mean when they accuse each other of vocal modulations… Here I ought to emphasize a point which is of importance in attaining an agreeable voice: nature herself, as if to modulate human speech, has placed an accent, and only one, on every word… Therefore let art follow the leadership of nature in pleasing the ear… The superior orator will therefore vary and modulate his voice; now raising and now lowering it, he will run through the whole scale of tones.”

Beginning with the Renaissance we begin to find more discussion regarding the relationships between Music and oratory. Desiderius Erasmus (1469–1536), in The Right Way of Speaking Latin and Greek makes some interesting observations regarding pitch and speech. In particular it is interesting that he touches on what conductors today call the “pyramid principle,” which means playing lower tones louder than upper tones to counteract the tendency of the brain to emphasize higher partials.

Bear. Do you not often find yourself making a low note long or a high note short as well as the other way round?
Lion. Yes. Though the contrast is still more marked with wind instruments.
Bear. So why should we be so crude and unmusical when we talk, making every syllable that is accented high long and all the others short? Even donkeys could have taught us better. When they bray they take longer over the low note than over the high one.
Lion. The cuckoo does much the same.13

Erasmus suggests that in speaking a distinction be made between high, accented syllables, and lower sounds which might be as much as a fourth, fifth or even an octave (!) — although he admits this might be “ungraceful.”14 Erasmus continues his comparison of speech to music by mentioning that a speaker often begins slowly and then accelerates, as happens in music. When the question is raised regarding the relationship of short to long in syllables, the answer is given as one to two, although “in ordinary speech there is no need to keep the ratio so exactly as there would be in choral singing or in dancing to a guitar.”

The interest Erasmus had in the tessitura of the voice was shared by several other Renaissance writers. Vincenzo Galilei (1533–1591) recommended to singers that they go to the theater to study the wide variety of contour of the voice and to observe,

when one quiet gentleman speaks with another, in what manner he speaks, how high or low his voice is pitched, with what volume of sound, with what sort of accents and gestures, and with what rapidity or slowness his words are uttered. Mark what difference obtains in all these things when one of them speaks with one of his servants, or one of these with another; observe the prince when he chances to be conversing with one of his subjects and vassals; when the petitioner who is entreating his favor; how the man infuriated or excited speaks; the married woman, the girl, the mere child, the clever harlot, the lover speaking to his mistress as he seeks to persuade her to grant his wishes, the man who laments, the one who cries out, the timid man, the man exultant with joy….

When the ancient musician sang any poem whatever, he first considered very diligently the character of the person speaking: his age, his sex, with whom he was speaking, and the effect he sought to produce by this means; and these conceptions, previously clothed by the poet in chosen words suited to such a need, the musician then expressed in the tone [tono] and with the accents and gestures, the quantity and quality of sound, and the rhythm appropriate to that action and to such a person.15

One who seems to have disagreed with the importance of a wide vocal tessitura was Marin Mersenne (1588–1648). In the first proposition of the second book of his third treatise of his great Harmonie universelle (1636), Mersenne first provides a definition of music which focuses on the emotions,

The song, or air, is a derivation of the voice, or of other sounds, by certain intervals either natural or artificial, which are agreeable to the ear and to the spirit, and which signify joy, or sadness, or some other passion by their movements.16

Having written this, it is interesting that he seems compelled to clarify the distinction between song and the vocal qualities of speakers and actors. In this regard he seems to suggest that speakers, and preachers in particular, lose effectiveness if they have too wide a tessitura.

Experience has shown us how preachers use the half tone, the tone, the major third, the minor third, the fourth and the fifth, according to their accents or movements which they employ. From this it can be seen that several excellent musicians state that the discourse made by such men form a Faux-Bordon. This is verified by the preachers who speak as if they sang. That is why their discourse is less agreeable, and less profitable.

As the emotions became an obsession with musicians during the Baroque Period, it is no surprise to find that philosophers now also declare that what matters most in oration is moving the emotions of the listeners. The English philosopher, Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) goes so far as to say that in certain cases Truth does not matter, only passion.

In raising an opinion from passion, any premises are good enough to enforce the desired conclusion; so, in raising passion from opinion, it is no matter whether the opinion be true or false, or the narration historical or fabulous; for, not the truth, but the image, makes passion.17

The great English writer, David Hume (1711–1776), criticizes his fellow English orators for not having enough passion. His answer was to follow the model of the ancients, to first find the emotion in themselves.18

Perhaps it may be acknowledged, that our modern customs, or our superior good sense, if you will, should make our orators more cautious and reserved than the ancient, in attempting to inflame the passions, or elevate the imagination of their audience. But, I see no reason, why it should make them despair absolutely of succeeding in that attempt. It should make them redouble their art, not abandon it entirely.

The French writer, La Rochefoucauld, also emphasizes the importance of passion, “The simplest man, endowed with passion, persuades better than the most eloquent man who lacks it.”19

Another Frenchman, Fenelon, goes further and stresses the importance of the orator personally feeling the emotion he expresses.

It is necessary to feel passion in order to paint it well. Art, however great it be, does not speak as does actual passion. Hence, you will always be a very imperfect orator if you are not affected by the feelings which you wish to portray and to inspire in others.20

Fenelon also argues of simplifying the language as an aid in doing this.

B. You would strictly banish all frivolous ornaments from discourse. But tell me by concrete examples how to distinguish them from those which are serious and natural.
A. Do you like flourishes in music? Don’t you prefer animated notes which objectify realities and expressing feelings?
B. Yes indeed. Flourishes serve only to please the ear; they mean nothing; they arouse no feeling. Formerly our music was full of them; and therefore it was very confused and weak. Then musicians began to discover ancient music. It is a kind of passionate declamation; it acts powerfully upon the soul.
A. I knew that music, to which you are very sensitive, would serve me in making you understand what concerns eloquence. There must then be a kind of eloquence even in music; and we must eliminate flourishes from eloquence even in music; and we must eliminate flourishes from eloquence as from music. Do you not understand now what I call verbal flourishes — appointed conceits which always return like a refrain, appointed murmurings of languid and uniform periods? There you have false eloquence, and it resembles bad music.21

Fenelon also mentions the use of the movement of the body to express emotion, giving us a wonderful phrase, equally valid for musicians, that “the movement of the body is a painting of the thoughts of the soul.”22

Certainly philosophers of all ages have agreed that the face is a painting of the soul. Yet, when it came to analyzing this more specifically, philosophers have long disagreed on whether it is the eyes or the face which communicates emotion. Consider, for example, the following brief survey of those voting either for the eyes or face:

The Eyes

Delivery is wholly the concern of the feelings, and these are mirrored by the face and expressed by the eyes; for this is the only part of the body capable of producing as many indications and variations as there are emotions, and there is nobody who can produce the same effect with the eyes shut.23

Cicero (106–43 BC)

No other part of the body supplies greater indications of the mind — this is so with all animals alike, but specially with man — that is, indications of self-restraint, mercy, pity, hatred, love, sorrow, joy. The eyes are also very varied in their look — fierce, stern, sparkling, sedate, leering, askance, downcast, kindly: in fact the eyes are the abode of the mind. They glow, stare, moisten, wink; from them flows the tear of compassion, when we kiss them we seem to reach the mind itself, they are the source of tears… Deep thought blinds the eyes by withdrawing the vision inward…24

Pliny the Elder (23–79 AD)

There is no passion which some particular expression of the eyes does not reveal. For some passions this is quite obvious: even the most stupid servants can tell from their master’s eye whether he is angry with them. But although it is easy to perceive such expressions of the eyes and to know what they signify, it is not easy to describe them. For each consists of many changes in the movement and shape of the eye, and these are so special and slight that we cannot perceive each of them separately, though we can easily observe the result of their conjunction. Almost the same can be said of the facial expressions which also accompany passions. For although more extensive than those of the eyes, they are still hard to discern. They differ so little that some people make almost the same face when they weep as others do when they laugh.25

Rene Descartes (1596–1650)

My feelings seek to break their bonds;
My poor heart dissolves in tears
And rushes to appear at
The windows of my soul, which are
My eyes.26

Don Pedro Calderon (1600–1681)

The eyes have one language everywhere.27

George Herbert (1593–1633)

To express Nature justly, one must be master of Nature in all its appearances, which can only be drawn from observation, which will tell us, that the passions and habits of the mind discover themselves in our looks, actions and gestures.

Thus we find a rolling eye that is quick and inconstant in its motion, argues a quick but light wit; a hot and choleric complexion, with an inconstant and impatient mind; and in a woman it gives a strong proof of wantonness and immodesty. Heavy dull eyes a dull mind, and difficulty of conception. For this reason we observe, that all or most people in years, sick men, and persons of a phlegmatic constitution are slow in the turning of their eyes.

That extreme propensity to winking in some eyes, proceed from a soul very subject to fear, arguing a weakness of spirit, and a feeble disposition of the eye-lids.

A bold staring eye, that fixes on a man, proceeds either from a blockish stupidity, as in rustics; impudence, as in malicious persons; prudence, as in those in authority, or incontinence as in lewd women.

Eyes inflamed and fiery are the genuine effect of choler and anger; eyes quiet, and calm with a secret kind of grace and pleasantness are the offspring of love and friendship….

Eyes lifted on high show arrogance and pride, but cast down express humbleness of mind. Yet we lift up our eyes when we address ourselves in prayer to God, and ask anything of him.28

Charles Gildon (1665–1724)

Richard Wagner (1813–1883) recalls a conversation with Spontini, who attributed all his success as a conductor to his use of his eyes.

One must not wear spectacles as bad conductors do, even if one is short-sighted. I, he admitted confidentially, “can’t see a step before me, and yet I use my eyes in such a way that everything goes as I wish.”

The Face

Thus, when these fictions and contours in feckless colors delight you too much, turn your eyes to Him, who painted feelings on the face of man.29

Francesco Petrarch (1304–1374)

Mine eyes do fear to meet [thine eyes],
My soul doth tremble neath those rays divine,
Nor tongue nor voice can to its function move.
Only my sighs, only my tear-stained face
Must do their office, speaking in their place,
And bear sufficing witness of my love.30

Pierre de Ronsard (1524–1585)

There’s no art,
To find the mind’s construction in the face.31

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

Now good sweet Nurse — O Lord, why look’st thou sad?
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
If good, thou sham’st the music of sweet news
By playing it to me with so sour a face.32

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

I have often guessed, by people’s faces, what they were saying, though I could not hear one word they said.33

Earl of Chesterfield

Only one important early philosopher commented on the possibility that the emotions in the face may not be true. Michel Montaigne, 1533 – 1592, observed,

I want to be enriched by me not by borrowings from others. Those outside us only see events and external appearances: anyone can put on a good outward show while inside he is full of fever and fright. They do not see my mind: they only see the looks on my face.34

Montaigne also contributed a fascinating list of the range of emotion and expressions communicated by the hands alone.

And what about our hands? With them we request, promise, summon, dismiss, menace, pray, supplicate, refuse, question, show astonishment, count, confess, repent, fear, show shame, doubt, teach, command, incite, encourage, make oaths, bear witness, make accusations, condemn, give absolution, insult, despise, defy, provoke, flatter, applaud, bless, humiliate, mock, reconcile, advise, exalt, welcome, rejoice, lament; show sadness, grieve, despair, astonish, cry out, keep silent and what not else, with a variety and multiplicity rivaling the tongue.35

Charles Gildon, in his early (1710) study on the gestures of the actor, also includes a wide variety of communications available in the hands.

The lifting of one hand upright, or extending it, expresses force, vigor and power. The right hand is also extended upwards as a token of swearing, or taking a solemn oath; and this extension of the hand sometimes signifies pacification, and desire of silence.

The putting of the hand to the mouth is the habit of one, that is silent and acting modestly; of admiration and consideration. The giving the hand is the gesture of striking a bargain, confirming an alliance, or of delivering ones self into the power of another. To take hold of the hand of another expresses admonition, exhortation, and encouragement. The reaching out of an hand to another implies help and assistance. The lifting up both hands on high is the habit of one who implores, and expresses his misery. And the lifting up of both hands sometimes signifies congratulation to Heaven for a deliverance…

The holding the hands in the bosom is the habit of the idle and negligent. Clapping the hands, among the Hebrews signified deriding, insulting, and exploding; but among the Greeks and the Romans it was, on the contrary, the expression of applause.36

He also makes one very strong warning regarding the use of the hands by the orator or actor.

If an action comes to be used by only one hand, that must be the right, it being indecent to make a gesture with the left alone… When you speak of your self, the right and not the left hand must be applied to the bosom, declaring your own faculties, and passions; your heart, your soul, or your conscience, but this action generally speaking, should be only applied or expressed by laying the hand gently on the breast.37

Gildon also warns that moving the head from side to side, “wantonly and lightly,” reflects folly and inconstancy. Hanging the head down suggests grief and sorrow, while lifting the head or tossing it up conveys the gesture of pride and arrogance. Carrying the head high is a sign of joy, victory and triumph, but an “hard and bold” forehead suggests obstinacy, contumacy, perfidiousness and impudence. Handing the head on the breast he finds “disagreeable to the eye,” while leaving the head in a position of leaning toward the shoulders is “rustic, affected, a mark of indifference and languidness.”

Thrusting out the belly or throwing back the head he finds “unbecoming and indecent.” Shrugging the shoulders he does not admit in oratory and he relates a story about Demosthenes who attempted to cure himself of this bad habit by having a dagger hung just above his shoulder.

In the end, however, emotions originate in the mind, not in the external physical features. The mind works the body. Thus the orator, or musician, who tries to convey through gesture, or his face, an emotion which is not genuine will always fail to impress the audience. This is because the basic emotions, like music, are genetic and the audience is endowed genetically to read both emotions and music. Thus Gildon’s parting advice,

The orator ought to form in his mind a very strong idea of the subject of his passion, and then the passion itself will not fail to follow…and affect both the sense and understanding of the spectators.38


  1. De Oratore, III, lx ↩︎
  2. The Education of an Orator, I, x ↩︎
  3. Ecloque, IV ↩︎
  4. Concerning the Cure of Anger ↩︎
  5. Quintilian, op. cit., trans. Butler, VI, ii, 8–36 ↩︎
  6. Ibid., I, x ↩︎
  7. Ibid., liv. We might point out that the great early historian, Herodotus, in his Histories, V, 98, observed that it is easier to convince a mob than it is an individual! ↩︎
  8. Tusculan Disputations, V, 104 ↩︎
  9. Pro Archia Poeta, x ↩︎
  10. De Oratore, III, xiv ↩︎
  11. Ibid., III, xlviii ↩︎
  12. Ibid., xvii ↩︎
  13. Collected Works of Erasmus, XXVI, 422ff ↩︎
  14. Ibid., 428 ↩︎
  15. Quoted in Strunk, Source Readings in Music History, 318 ↩︎
  16. Treatise III, Book Two ↩︎
  17. Human Nature, XIII, vii ↩︎
  18. On Eloquence, in The Philosophical Works, III, 169 ↩︎
  19. The Maxims, Nr. 8 ↩︎
  20. Fenlon’s Dialogues on Eloquence, trans. Howell, 104ff ↩︎
  21. Ibid., 114ff ↩︎
  22. Ibid., 99 ↩︎
  23. De Oratore, III, lix ↩︎
  24. Natural History, XI, liv ↩︎
  25. “The Passions of the Soul,” in The Philosophical Writings of Descartes, 412ff ↩︎
  26. The Surgeon of Honor, Act II ↩︎
  27. The Poems of George Herbert, ed. Rhys, 249 ↩︎
  28. The Life of Mr. Thomas Betterton (1710), 41ff ↩︎
  29. Remedies, I, xl, 125ff ↩︎
  30. Songs and Sonnets of Ronsard, trans. p. 7 ↩︎
  31. Macbeth, I, iv ↩︎
  32. Romeo and Juliet, II, iv ↩︎
  33. Letter to his son, March 10, 1746 ↩︎
  34. Essays, trans. Screech, II, xvi, 710. In II, xvii, 726 he admits that “in speaking facial expressions and the voice can lend value to things which in themselves are hardly worth more than chatter.” ↩︎
  35. Ibid., II, xi, 507 ↩︎
  36. Gildon, Op. cit., 40 ↩︎
  37. Ibid., 74ff. This reflects that in previous times the left hand was used for sanitary purposes, hence why we shake hands with the right hand. ↩︎
  38. Ibid., 70. In 42-43, 58-69, Gildon notes that to be a “complete” actor his course of study should include history, moral philosophy, rhetoric, elocution, painting, sculpture, dance, fencing and the pole vault. ↩︎