LIFE OF HENRY. 41^
heart. His voice was not remarkable for its sweetness; but it was firm, of full volume, and rather melodious than otherwise. Its charms consisted in the mellowness and fulness of its note, the ease and variety of its inflections, the distinctness of its articulation, the fine effect of its emphasis, the felicity with which it attuned itself to every emotion, and the vast compass which enabled it to range through the whole empire of human passion, from the deep and tragic half whisper of horror, to the wildest exclamation of overwhelming rage. In mild persuasion, it was as soft and gentle as the zephyr of spring; while in rousing his countrymen to arms, the winter storm that roars along the troubled Baltic, was not more awfully sublime. It w as at all times perfectly under his command; or rather, indeed, it seemed to command itself, and to modulate its notes, most hap- pily to the sentiment he was uttering. It never ex- ceeded, or fell short of the occasion. There was none of that long continued and deafening vociferation, which always takes place when an ardent speaker has lost possession of himself — no monotonous clangour, no discordant shriek. Without being strained, it had that body and enunciation which filled the most distant ear, without distressing those which were nearest him : hence it never became cracked or hoarse, even in his longest speeches, but retained to the last, all its clearness and fulness of intonation, all the dehcacy of its inflection, all the charms of its emphasis, and enchanting variety of its cadence.
His deUvery was perfectly natural and well timed. It has indeed been said, that on his first rising, there was a species of sub-cantus very observable by a stranger, and rather disagreeable to him; but that in a very few moments even this, itself, became agreeable, and seem-
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