Thomas Sheridan (1718-1788) devoted his life to enterprises within the sphere of spoken English, and although he achieved more than common success in all his undertakings, it was his fate to have his reputation eclipsed by more famous contemporaries and eroded by the passage of time. On the stage, he was compared favorably with Garrick, but his name lives in the theatre only through his son Richard Brinsley. A leading theorist of the elocutionary movement, his pronouncing dictionary ranks after the works of Dr. Johnson and John Walker, and his entire contribution dimmed when the movement fell into disrepute.[1]

Sheridan attained his greatest renown through his writing and lecturing on elocution, and the fervor with which he pursued the study of tones, looks, and gestures in speaking animates A Discourse Delivered in the Theatre at Oxford, in the Senate-House at Cambridge, and at Spring-Garden in London. This lecture, "Being Introductory to His Course of Lectures on Elocution and the English Language," displays both the man and the elocutionary movement. Throughout the work, Sheridan exhibits his missionary zeal, his dedication to "a visionary hypothesis that dazzled his mind."[2] At the same time, he presents the basic principles of elocutionary theory and reveals the forces that made the movement a dominant pattern in English rhetoric.

It is difficult to account for Sheridan's millennial approach to elocution, but his absorption in language study is most understandable. His father, Dr. Thomas Sheridan, was a minister and teacher, judged to be "a good classical scholar, and an excellent schoolmaster."[3] He supervised his son's early education, and Sheridan was being pointed toward a career as school master. His exposure to, and interest in, English were reinforced by his godfather, Dean Swift, who was long an intimate of the elder Sheridan. In later years, Sheridan was eager to acknowledge that his attitudes had been profoundly influenced by those of Swift.

To some degree Sheridan's dedication to language study is evidenced in his theatrical activities. As an undergraduate, he wrote a play that was later published; and almost immediately after taking his M.A. at Trinity College, he made his professional acting debut in Dublin. This was 1743, and forty years later he was taking part in Attic Entertainments, performances "consisting of recitation, singing, and music."[4] A selective chronology suggests his involvement with the stage: 1744, acting in London with Garrick; 1750, acting and managing in Dublin; 1760, acting in London; 1780, acting manager for his son at Drury Lane.

Successful as an actor, Sheridan appears to have missed greatness because he could not overcome an inflexibility and obstinacy in personality; and the same characteristics helped to precipitate a number of squabbles and riots that marred his managerial efforts. However, much of his frustration in the theatre must be attributed to the more compelling attraction to the theory of delivery in speaking. The stage provided a practical outlet, but Sheridan's fascination with elocutionary theory dominated and deflected the interest in theatre.

That elocution was his primary concern is demonstrated in his major publications: British Education, 1756; Lectures on Elocution, 1762; A Plan of Education, 1769; Lectures on the Art of Reading, 1775; and A General Dictionary of the English Language, 1780. In all of these works the central argument remained unchanged after its initial statement in the complete title of British Education.[5] There, Sheridan suggested that a revival of the art of speaking would improve religion, morality, and constitutional government; would undergird a refining of the language; and would pave the way for ultimate perfection in all the arts.

Having posited this thesis in 1756, Sheridan was reiterating it still in the material prefatory to his pronouncing dictionary in 1780, and he never rested with publication alone. As early as 1757 he lectured on the principles of education, and he first presented his course of lectures on elocution in 1758-59 at Oxford and Cambridge. Over the years the course proved to be both popular and financially rewarding, and Sheridan sometimes presented the lectures in order to relieve financial embarassment. Nevertheless, his devotion to the cause was the crucial factor. His interest in language somehow became an almost blind devotion to spoken English, and through his course he could carry his message to influential audiences in England, Ireland, and Scotland; the Edinburgh Select Society sponsored two series in 1761, and Sheridan was lecturing on elocution as late as 1785.

The Discourse typifies Sheridan's simplistic interpretation and the evangelistic ardor with which he addressed his audiences. He was not content to fault an overemphasis in the study of Latin, nor was he satisfied to argue that "the support of our establishments, both ecclesiastical and civil" rests upon public discussion. Many in his audiences would have agreed, and few would have taken issue with the contention that the "art of elocution" needed further cultivation. But Sheridan pressed on to insist that the written language, being an invention of man, "can have no natural power," and he argued that the "highest delights" of aesthetic pleasures must wait upon the perfection of spoken English. He even went so far as to suggest that the study of "grammar, rhetorick, and oratory" explained the outstanding artistic achievements of Greece and Rome.

Moreover, "other benefits to society" would add to "the glory of the nation" and to the "ornament of individuals, and of the state in general" through a loosing of silent tongues. Sheridan dreamed that the study of elocution, with a voice "far sweeter than the syren's song," would so entrance young students that they would linger long in native academic groves, avoiding the baneful influence of travel abroad "at the most unfit and dangerous season of life." Thus, individual and social perfection had to be predicated upon the study of spoken English, and Sheridan implied that to slight this study was to offer an affront to the divine plan for earthly progress.

This panacean outlook prompted Hume to remark that "Mr. Sheridan's Lectures are vastly too enthusiastic. He is to do every thing by Oratory."[6] And it is not surprising that the critical, the Johnsons and Humes, should have been distressed by Sheridan's enthusiasm, an enthusiasm that permitted him to posit such unlikely goals and to see himself as the sole authority on elocution. Yet, for every negative reaction, the elocutionists enlisted countless believers. Sheridan and other theorists capitalized upon a number of intellectual currents and social pressures of the era that centered attention upon delivery in speaking and that helped aggrandize this facet of rhetorical training. A number of forces can be isolated, but most relate to the classical inheritance, to the belief that tones, looks, and gestures constitute a natural language of the passions, and to the methodology of science.[7]

The classical inheritance was important to the elocutionists because of the impetus given to all language study. Sheridan did no more than echo a common complaint when he worried over the "many bad consequences" attending a neglect of the English language; countless writers addressed themselves to a determination of phonology and pronunciation in the attempt "to methodize" the language. Furthermore, the example of ancient oratory spoke loudly to a people striving to perfect both the individual and social institutions. Any educated man was expected to be able to express himself well in public, particularly if his vocation found him "in the pulpit, the senate-house, or at the bar." The pulpit was a favorite target, and critics regularly lamented the atrocious state of speaking "in the very service of the Most High." The elocutionists and others appear to have been convinced that the doubt and scepticism of the age would be much relieved if only the preachers would learn to speak properly. Theirs seemed the best of all possible religions, and it needed but a vitalization through adequate pulpit oratory to transcend anything accomplished by the Popish devotees on the Continent. Certainly Sheridan's references to the Continent also reflect a strong overlay of nationalism, and the same spirit creeps into his worship of Greece and Rome; but he and the other elocutionists knew that they owed a profound debt to classical rhetorical theory. Beyond supporting language study generally and beyond encouraging an interest in public speaking, ancient rhetoric justified a concentration on delivery.

After centuries of a chameleon-like existence, the complete Ciceronian rhetoric emerged in England just in time to meet a savage onslaught from the methods of science and the new epistemology.[8] Eventually, rhetoricians such as Campbell and Blair were to successfully blend the old and the new, but the elocutionists found fertile ground in delivery alone. They began, as Sheridan did, with the testimony of Cicero and Quintilian because actio, or pronuntiatio, was one of the five established canons of classical rhetoric. A favorite citation, though Sheridan did not use it, was Demosthenes' reputed response when asked to name the three most important parts of rhetoric: "Actio, actio, actio." The endorsement of antiquity lent powerful support to the study of delivery, and this was the one canon that had not been subjected to regular exhaustive analyses throughout the rhetorical tradition. Here was a topic ripe for further investigation, and by Sheridan's day, the tones, looks, and gestures of delivery had achieved commonplace status in discussions of man's emotions.

Sheridan spoke as if this natural language of the passions were "hardly ever thought of," but the belief that tones, looks, and gestures were external signs of internal emotions was firmly established by the middle of the eighteenth century. The notion has received some attention throughout western thought, but most speculation appears to date from Descartes' Les Passions de l'ame in 1650. The increasing concern with mind-body problems encouraged inquiries into the nature and function of the natural language in all areas relating directly to man's emotion and its expression. The topics were as various as religion and physiognomy, but discussions of the natural language construct centered upon human communication, particularly in the arts.

The construct became especially significant in analyses of painting and sculpture. Examples of its impress can be seen in Le Brun's sketches of the passions,[9] in Hogarth's having embraced "the commonly received opinion, that the face is the index of the mind,"[10] and in Dryden's contention that "to express the passions which are seated in the heart, by outward signs, is one great precept of the painters." Dryden added that "in poetry, the same passions and motions of the mind are to be expressed,"[11] and the natural language found its way into most discussions of tragedy and the epic. Other examples of literary analysis in which the construct operated include Steele's Prosodia Rationalis, Say's An Essay on Harmony, Variety, and Power of Numbers, and Kames' Elements of Criticism. In sum, it was almost universally accepted that the creative artist was to observe and record the natural language of the passions. In Sheridan's words, he was to perceive and delineate the "operations, affections, and energies, of the mind itself ... manifested and communicated in speech."

The methodology of science was indirectly responsible for giving added support to this facet of elocutionary rationale. When British empiricism was pressed to the limit, considerable doubt and scepticism resulted; and the Scottish common sense philosophy was, in large part, a counter response. The operation of the natural language became one of the first principles of common sense; and in their discussions of philosophy, aesthetics, and rhetoric, the Scots argued for the study of elocution.[12]

Science contributed directly to the movement by providing the framework for analysis. Without the empirical approach and the confidence in scientific methodology, theorists simply would not have attempted to isolate and describe the elements in the external signs of the emotions. Science forced Sheridan to think in terms of empirical observation and categorization, and science permitted him to call for "sure and sufficient rules" in order that "the art of speaking like that of writing ... be reduced to a system." It is even symptomatic that he should have referred to the design of the "Great Mechanist."

Almost as enthusiastic as Sheridan, a number of other elocutionists expressed similar views and found their theories invigorated by the same forces. James Burgh in the Art of Speaking (1761), John Walker in Elements of Elocution (1781) and a number of other works, and Gilbert Austin in Chironomia (1806) were among the more influential elocutionary theorists. Numerous other writers in both England and America participated in making the study of elocution an established part of the English rhetorical tradition.

In America, the study gained acceptance at all levels of education, and the class in elocution became a standard course in colleges and universities. Elocution centered upon oral reading and public speaking, and written composition came to be the exclusive province of the rhetoric class. The resultant distinctions between oral and written discourse played a significant role in the eventual development of separate departments of speech and English in American colleges and universities.[13]

Although speech departments grew out of elocutionary studies, elocution disappeared from the curriculum because of an association with an excessive emphasis upon performance as performance. Reaction was compounded by a sophistication in psychology that made early theory seem naÏve, but neither later excesses nor seeming naÏvety should be permitted to distort the main thrust of the elocutionary movement. Concentrating upon language in use, the elocutionists encouraged and anticipated analyses now being vigorously pursued in a range extending from linguistics to nonverbal communication. Their contribution has for too long been ignored, and it is happily foreshadowed in Thomas Sheridan's enthusiastic Discourse.

University of California,
Davis