ng to such studies; but
they are indispensable to the feigned passion of the actor. How useful
would it not be to the actor who wishes to represent madness or wrath,
to know that the eye never expresses the sentiment experienced, but
simply indicates the object of this sentiment! Cover the lower part of
your face with your hand, and impart to your look all the energy of
which it is susceptible, still it will be impossible for the most
sagacious observer to discover whether your look expresses anger or
attention. On the other hand, uncover the lower part of the face, and if
the nostrils are dilated, if the contracted lips are drawn up, there is
no doubt that anger is written on your countenance. An observation which
confirms the purely indicative part performed by the eye is, that among
raving madmen the lower part of the face is violently contracted, while
the vague and uncertain look shows clearly that their fury has no
object. It is easy to conceive what a wonderful interest the actor,
painter, or sculptor must find in the study of the human body thus
analysed from head to foot in its innumerable ways of expression.
Hence, the eloquent secrets of pantomime, those imperceptible movements
of great actors which produce such powerful impressions, are decomposed
and subjected to laws whose evidence and simplicity are a twofold source
of admiration.

"Finally, in what concerns articulate language M. Delsarte has assumed a
yet more novel task. We all know the power of certain inflections; we
know that a phrase which accented in a certain way is null, accented in
another way produces irresistible effects upon the stage. It is the
property of great artists to discover this preeminent accentuation; but
never, to my knowledge, did anyone think of referring these happy
inspirations of genius to positive laws. Yet, whence comes it that a
certain inflection, a certain word placed in relief, affects us? How
shall we explain this emotion, if not by a certain relation existing
between the laws of our organization, the laws of general grammar, and
those of musical inflection? There is always, in a phrase loudly
enunciated, one word which sustains the passionate accent. But how shall
we detach and recognize it in the midst of the phrase? How distribute
the forces of accentuation on all the words of which it is composed? How
classify and arrange them in relation to that sympathetic inflection,
without which the most energetic thought hal